COME WHAT MAY, AND LOVE IT

A wise man once said, "COME WHAT MAY, AND LOVE IT."
Actually it was his mom who said it.
And the wise man was Joseph B. Wirthlin, the grandfather of one of my dear missionary companions (I love you Katie Cannon Miller!) and someone I believe to be an apostle.  (Yes, Mormons believe that there are twelve modern day apostles today, just like in the Bible.  Think that's a little weird?  Maybe I'll talk about it later here.)



The reason why I bring this up is because I fully plan on having this in big letters somewhere in my house one day so that when my kids complain about doing chores, or my daughter has her heart broken, or our house burns down I can look at that and remember. (I guess if the house burns down I won't be looking at it, but I'll have looked at it enough to remember.)
The other reason I mention it is because it's how I feel about our time with Hope.

Let me be very, very honest for a moment.

Those 37 days we had with Hope were the MOST difficult, MOST heart-wrenching, MOST agonizing, thinking-I-was-losing-my-sanity and sinking-into-an-endless-dark-hole kind of difficult I have ever experienced.  I remember a few days after coming home from the hospital sitting in bed with Hope in my arms, who was peacefully sleeping, and Tyler had just left for work.  I was completely alone and suddenly an emptiness I can only call 'death' washed over me to the point I started to feel like there was no more good in this world and I had no place or purpose in it.  I was bawling uncontrollably when my mom showed up to help me for the day.  I have never been so happy to see someone.  It was like that every day.  I was almost afraid to be alone because of the thoughts and feelings that would inevitably come.

Let me repeat a little more of what Elder Worthlin said:

"How can we love days that are filled with sorrow?  We can't--at least not in the moment.  I don't think my mother was suggesting that we suppress the discouragement or deny the reality of pain.  I don't think she was suggesting that we smother unpleasant truths beneath a cloak of pretended happiness.  But I do believe that the way we react to adversity can be a major factor in how happy and successful we can be in life."

And so I went to war.

At least that's the way I like to think of it. (I also like to pretend I'm Joan of Arc sometimes.)  There may be a better metaphor for you.

I decided to turn on the music.  Literally.  I made a list of happy, comforting, encouraging songs on iTunes and it literally played non-stop.  For me, it created a more positive environment.

I tried to laugh about things more.  Even when I didn't think things were funny.

I tried to remember that the best rewards are often invisible--who I am becoming because of this experience, how I will have more compassion for others and maybe be a little more understanding.

And then there was my faith.  The comforting teachings that I will have my Hope again, that just as I laid her down in the grave, she will rise up physically perfected and I will raise her in a better world, and we will be family forever, if I live my life well.

The 37 days with Hope changed me...I try to have more patience with tele-marketers now.  I say nicer things to the crazy drivers on the road.  When I think of time, I don't think 5 or 10 or 30 years down the road.  I'm thinking about 60 or 70 when I join Hope and what I want to have become by then and what I can do now to be that way.

My time with Hope was THE sweetest, THE most consecrated time of my life.  I know I walked with Christ.  She made me feel like no one has ever made me feel.  To this day I have never felt the exquisite happiness I felt watching Tyler hold and blow raspberries and talk to his little daddy's girl.  Hope's smiles changed my world.
I can say that was the sweetest time of my life, not because every minute was peachy, but because of Hope and family and of what I was able to overcome.  To me, the sense of accomplishment that I endured well, without ending up a bitter, fearful, doubtful person means everything.  And in that sense, I have come to believe that hard knocks, or trials or whatever you call them are one of the most EMPOWERING things in our life.  Sooo...Come what may, and love it.

Next time I'm going to continue with more of her story, but for now, watch this and see if it doesn't lift you a LITTLE, whether you are Mormon or not...

P.S. This was Elder Worthlin's last talk before he passed away, so he is a little older than you and maybe not the best public speaker (that's not a requirement to being an apostle) so don't be a hater, just hear to the message.  :)

Love, C