Not going to lie, I feel a little sick with how nervous sharing this makes me. I have no problem sharing and expressing my feelings when it comes to how much I love and care about someone or other happy, positive things. But really personal, poignant things get kept much closer to the chest. Even opening up to Gabe about such things has been a learning experience these past 7 years. My inclination is to become quiet, draw inward, and do anything but share it with others. But I'm turning over a new leaf, right? So here goes.
Journal entry from Wednesday, September 4, 2019:
"Last night was...hard? strange? unexpected? unusual? I don't know that there's a proper word to appropriately describe it. I had a wonderful and enjoyable day yesterday. I have felt an abundance of the Spirit lately and great satisfaction with where life is at. Which is why last night caught me so off-guard.
Just before going to bed I had very deep, poignant feelings hit me. A profound sense of longing for children overcame me. It almost took my breath away. The pain was physical. I couldn't restrain tears. I thought of my various interactions with children lately and my opportunities to "mother" others' children. How easy it is in those scenarios to envision children of our own - to see what could be ourselves in some future day.
The innocence and purity of children and getting to be a part of their lives brings me joy and satisfaction. But it can also surface pain. It makes my own lack so much more apparent. It takes my focus off of what I have and places it squarely on what I lack. Sometimes I just want to be able to join in on the "mommy stories" and woes rather than merely listening. As much as I trust the Lord's wisdom, sometimes I just want that to be my life.
But as a whole lately I have felt such peace, joy, and contentment with my life. Which is why last night was so confusing. It seemed to come out of nowhere and was almost all-consuming. It was so painful, and so very real. I thought I had composed myself, and then it started again. I didn't know where it was coming from, but it almost seemed like somewhere other than myself.
After sharing it with Gabe and laying close to him, I thought of the children that await us. I wondered if they were there, right then, strengthening me. I sensed many children. I wasn't sure if they were to come in this life or the next, but I sensed a small group together.
Poetic words expressing my emotions ran through my head during the experience. I could see them as the beginning of longer, written prose. The desire to write it, to express myself, almost pulled me out of bed to do it then. If not for the late hour that we had gone to bed, I think I would have. I felt a need to write about it, a compelling, an inspiration.
As I think back and ponder on it all now, there seems to be an almost sacred nature about it. I can still vividly remember the depth of feeling. It's as though the very poignance of it makes it sacred. Because anything with that depth of emotion deserves regard and respect. Any other such profound experience I can remember has clearly been of a spiritual nature, and so by association it must also be regarded as such and considered sacred like the others.
And so I have done my best to record it, to convey the inexpressible through word, that it may be kept sacred and remembered, even when memories dim."
I'm not entirely sure why I felt the need to share this now. It was one single incident that took place over 3 months ago. But I'm learning the importance of really opening up to those you love, and sharing not just the happiness and joy, but also the pain and the struggles. Because that's what really bonds and brings you closer. How can they really understand and comprehend your joy if they haven't known your sorrow?
When others ask how I'm doing, I always say I'm doing really well. And I am. It's true that the Lord has given me a great deal of peace and assurance with where our life and family is at. Like I wrote in my journal, as a whole I feel great joy and contentment with my life. But that doesn't mean that the wishing and the hoping and even at times the longing has gone away. Because if it had, where would I be? We're supposed to want children and families. Why would the Lord take away my desire for the very thing He has ordained?
And so even with His carrying my burden, sometimes that means I feel a little sadness in my wishing, some longing in my dreaming. It means I have experienced a pain that hits with such unexpected force that I cry uncontrollably, confused and hurt and literally fighting for breath while I wonder where it's even coming from.
But it also means I've gained an undeniable testimony of the love of my Savior and the power of His atonement. Because without Him, that one isolated and unfamiliar moment is where I would be stuck all of the time. He gives me the strength to be happy now. And that is a gift of such tremendous value. Because life is never going to be exactly what we expect. There are always going to be twists and turns, bumps and bruises. But as we learn to fully give our will to Him, He opens up doors for us we never could have imagined.
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