How to receive the Spirit of Revelation

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Sometimes the Lord takes us Kicking and Screaming to our Blessings

My daughter, Emma, began college three years ago at Kutztown University near Philadelphia.  Her roommate was a best friend since the fifth grade.  That first year, they had a small cinderblock room on the third floor of a very antiquated dormitory--sharing showers and restrooms with about twenty other girls. 

 

I’ve always been a nervous mother; always worrying about my children when they were out of sight.  My daughter was the only child to go away to school.  I worried about her constantly those first few months.  But eventually, I learned to love the school and felt the dormitory life was safe.  Emma lived there for three years—it had become home away from home.  During that time, she had picked up a third roommate who had become another very close friend.

 

 

During her junior year of college, the girls learned that Kutztown would be changing on-campus living arrangements the following school year.  All the original dorms (including the one she had been living in) were to be freshman only dorms. Only the most expensive apartment-style dorms would be available for upper classman to rent.  This left my daughter and her roommates with the task of finding off-campus housing for their senior year. 

After searching  for a few weeks, they found housing:  a fully furnished student only apartment complex called Sacony Commons--not too far from campus. Each apartment had three bedrooms, a huge bathroom, living room and kitchen, central air, and washer & dryer.  It was very modern with painted walls, new furniture, new kitchen cabinets, etc.  The price was similar to the dorm they had been living in.  It seemed perfect. We paid our deposit and signed leases in January--eight months before they would even need it.

When summer break came around, my daughter was more excited than ever about having her very own apartment with her two best friends come September.  However, I was concerned.  I kept thinking about how she would have to park in a dark lot at night to enter the building (the building was in a secluded area) and make her way through hallways and stairwells to reach her apartment.

Money was also an issue.  I no longer worked full time and I was not sure there would be enough to get her through that final year.  Things just seemed unsettling to me.  I began praying to my Heavenly Father about the whole situation—explaining my concerns about finances and safety.  As the upcoming school year grew closer, I prayed and fasted for HIS help.

Three weeks before school began, a catastrophe happened.  My daughter and her roommates (along with all the other students who had made the same arrangements) were sent an email explaining all housing contracts were cancelled—they no longer had housing at Sacony Commons—they no longer had housing anywhere!

We freaked out: we cried, we yelled, we worried--we were absolutely sick!  We immediately began calling the office at the apartment complex but no one would answer to give us any information as to what had happened.  We checked with the college, but all they knew was that all the housing contracts with that unit had indeed been cancelled—they didn’t understand why—but hundreds of students were now scrambling for housing for a school year that would begin in just three weeks.

My daughter couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, and she cried a lot.  She had an extremely busy school year coming up—18 credits worth of classes and she was president of the girl’s rugby team with tons of practice and meetings.  The only solution the college offered was to put my daughter with a stranger in a very expensive dorm.  All her dreams of having a place with her two best friends—the two girls she had shared the past three years of college life with—down the drain.  She begged me to help her find a better solution. 

 

I turned to the Lord in prayer.  Oddly, I felt calm and peaceful--sure that everything would work out—not to worry.  I had this overwhelming feeling that what was occurring was actually an answer to my earlier prayers about finances and safety.  But how could that be--there wasn’t available housing anywhere.

My daughter and her roommates drove to Kutztown a few days later determined to find something.  Right behind the school was another off campus housing unit for students called The Cliffs.  The Cliffs were old 1970’s style townhouses.  Normally, they had tons of vacancies available each school year, but, because the college had changed the less expensive dorms to freshman only—they had filled up even before the Sacony Commons crisis.  My daughter had called them the minute we received the infamous email, but the office would be closed for several days due to vacation—we left tons of messages. 

When they arrived in Kutztown, they immediately went to The Cliffs.  The lady in the office was kind and understanding, but, she sadly informed them that they were filled and already had a long waiting list for cancellations.  My daughter put their name on the list anyways and the three of them left to seek other options. 

A male student they knew from their old dorm had called and asked if he could also room with them.  He had lost his housing at Sacony Commons as well, and his roommate (and good friend) had dropped him like a hot potato as soon as he found his own housing with others; this young man had nowhere to go.  As a matter of fact, a lot of friendships ended over the housing crises as students abandoned each other.  My daughter and her friends were determined to stay together, and being the compassionate girls they are, they were even more determined to find a place for the four of them--an impossible task.

After many hours of searching, they sent me a text and told me they had found an old farmhouse out in the country about a 20 minute drive to school.  I asked for a picture.  When the picture arrived on my phone, I knew it was not the right place—there was no way my daughter was going to live way out in the country, far away from everyone, in an old dilapidated building--but this was all that was available.

 I immediately got down on my knees and begged my Father in Heaven to help my daughter and her friends—there were only two weeks left till school began. 

Disappointed they started for home. On their way, my daughter received a call from the lady in the office at The Cliffs—she explained that they just had a cancellation and she was willing to give it to the girls (moving them to the top of the list).  She also stated that this particular unit had FOUR bedrooms.

Yesterday my daughter Emma, along with her two best friends, and a sweet young man, all moved in to their 70’s style Townhouse.  The rent is $1400 cheaper than Sacony Commons.  They park right in front of their own door with just a few steps till they are safely inside, they are surrounded by other students--no seclusion.  It is closer to the campus than Sacony Commons, so no need to buy a parking pass—she can walk to classes just as she always had in the past.  They each have their own furnished bedroom, TWO bathrooms, fully furnished kitchen and living room, and—Emma’s favorite--central air.  The townhouse is older with dark paneled walls, but it’s  adorable and has character.

Without my even realizing it, the Lord was answering my prayers for help with finances and safety just as I had asked Him. The whole experience was a reminder, that sometimes when we think all is lost and hopeless, well, that is when the Lord is actually taking us kicking and screaming to our blessings.

 

© August 27, 2012

(Matthew 17:21)

To learn more about the power of fasting:
https://www.lds.org/ensign/2009/04/fasting-with-power?lang=eng

 

 

 

 

 

The Miracle

The year my daughter Emma entered high school, she decided to join the popular South Western Marching Band.  She made this decision for two reasons.  The first:  friends she had since the fifth grade would also be in the marching band.  The kind of friends you do everything with--sleepovers, share your hopes and dreams, hang out with outside of school, etc..  The second: the marching band took elaborate, exciting trips each year.  Trips that would make a lifetime of wonderful memories shared with best friends.

That first year, the trip would turn out to be the most exciting of all the trips she experienced in high school.  The band was going to ride to Florida on a bus, take a three day cruise to the Bahamas, and spend two full days at Universal Studios.

 The excitement and preparation for a trip that wouldn’t happen till spring began at the beginning of the school year.  The girls had their cabin mates all lined up by October and anxiously awaited April.  I scrimped and saved every penny to make the payments for such an expensive trip—knowing that to miss out on such an event (when all her friends were going) would have been detrimental to a fourteen year old girl. 

Something else happened the beginning of that school year--Emma kept getting sick.  She would have these bouts of painful nausea that would last for several days and then she'd be fine again.  As spring approached, the flu-like symptoms increased.  We made several trips to the doctors and kept getting a diagnosis of "acid reflux".  However, my gut kept telling me the diagnosis was wrong.

Week after week, I watched Emma suffer from the strange illness.  Often times, I had to run and pick her up in the middle of the night at a sleepover because she became sick again.  Each time, we would return to the doctor, hear the same diagnosis, and try a new medicine.

The Friday before Emma was to leave for her marching band trip (the following Thursday) she became very ill.  The pain was excruciating; she was doubled over the entire weekend and couldn’t get out of bed.  I kept calling the doctor’s office asking if I should take her to the hospital.  They told me I’d be wasting my time—it would pass just as it had before, “just increase the meds” the doctor insisted. 

I decided to call the priesthood from my church and have them give my daughter a blessing.  Priesthood blessings for the sick are common in my religious beliefs.

The missionaries from my church came over, lay their hands upon my daughter’s slumped over head, and blessed her that she would seek the proper medical attention needed, AND, that she would indeed go on her school trip the following Thursday.  This was Saturday night.  The possibility that Emma would be well enough to board a twenty hour bus trip in a few days, well, that seemed impossible.

The following morning (Sunday—4 days left till the trip) I took Emma to the ER—tired of listening to the doctors and knowing in my gut that they were wrong.  It only took five minutes after a blood test for the ER doctor to return and explain that Emma had pancreatitis—a life threatening illness. She had to have surgery NOW. 

I saw the look on Emma’s face right away.  I knew exactly what she was thinking:  “but mom, I’m leaving in four days for the trip of a lifetime, a trip that we worked all year to go on, please fix this!  I can’t miss it!”  It was as if we were communicating telepathically.  I anxiously explained to the doctor our situation—hoping he’d give us meds and let us wait till she returned for the surgery—but he was adamant, the surgery could not wait.

Emma was moved to a private room where we awaited the arrival of the surgeon—Dr. Horn—who was going to schedule the procedure and perform the surgery.  The nurses were all aware of the fact that Emma wanted to leave for her trip on Thursday and kept instructing me to explain to her that she would not be going.

But how could I?  How could I explain to a fourteen year old girl that she was going to miss out on a trip that was so important to her—she had waited months with anticipation; how could I explain that all her friends would be leaving in a few days and she would be left behind. 

My heart was laden with grief and so I turned to my Heavenly Father for help.  I knew He would understand how important this trip was to my daughter.  Emma had faith. She kept reminding me of the missionaries’ blessing and how they stated she would go on her trip.  But I lacked faith—I was sure that would never happen, and the nurses and doctors kept confirming it.

I prayed all day for my daughter.  I poured out my heart to the Lord, explaining how important this band trip was to Emma, how her heart would be broken if she missed out on it.  I knew that a loving Father in Heaven would understand. 

Her room was quiet most of the day—the surgeon never made it in to see us; the nurses assured me he’d be in the following morning.  I cried a lot that evening.  I would go into her bathroom, get down on my knees, and cry out to my Heavenly Father for help and comfort.  I didn’t sleep at all that night; I kneeled beside my tiny cot in her room and quietly prayed as she slept.

The surgeon did not come in till noon the following day (3 days left).  He examined Emma and informed us that he would be able to perform the surgery on Thursday (the day the bus was leaving).  He saw the look on our face and heard the sighs of anguish.  After we explained our disappointment, he seemed sympathetic to our situation; however, he went on to state emphatically that surgery any sooner than Thursday was impossible.  The hospital had a list of patients ahead of Emma who needed surgery, and, he had a long list of his own patients that were waiting to be seen at his office the next two days.  Thursday was the date. 

After he left, Emma kept insisting that she was going on the trip—she constantly reminded me of the blessing.  The nurses thought she was being silly and ridiculous to even think such a thing was possible. 

Tuesday morning arrived (2 days left) and I decided to leave the hospital for a few hours to take care of some much needed business.  I continued my prayers, but my faith was lacking.  Shortly after I left the hospital, Emma called me.  Her voice was frantic.  “Get back to the hospital Mom!”  She yelled into the other end of the phone. “They’re taking me down to surgery!”

I rushed back to the hospital in a state of confusion.  When I arrived Emma was already prepped for surgery.  Dr. Horn explained that he had cancelled all of his patient visits for that day and that the operating scheduled was moved around so they could fit Emma in.  “I can’t think of a better place to recuperate from surgery than a cruise ship,” he added with a wink.  Later, Emma told me that as the anesthesiologist was preparing her for sleep, she heard him whisper in her ear, “You’re going to the Bahamas Emma!”

Emma did go on that cruise ship.  She slept most of the twenty hours or so on the bus and rested most of the first day on the boat by the pool.  She played along with the band at every event on that trip.  One week to the day of her surgery, I proudly stood on the sidelines and watched my daughter march through Universal Studios with the South Western Marching Band.  Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as she went by.  I knew that I was witnessing a true miracle—a tender mercy from the Lord for my daughter.

I learned a lot from that experience.  I learned to have faith when things seem impossible and when those around you keep insisting they are impossible.  I learned that my Heavenly Father understands fourteen year old girls and what is important to them.  I learned that HE knows who we are personally; he loves each of us, and wants his children to be happy.   Mostly, I learned that miracles still happen.

Emma was able to go on all the band trips through high school.  She went to Niagara Falls, Colorado, and to fun amusement parks in Ohio.  She had a great time with her best friends and made incredible memories on all of them.  However, none would be as memorable as the cruise ship she went on in the ninth grade.  After all, that one was a gift from God.

Emma marching through Universal Studios

                                 © August 3, 2012  

                                   More on Priesthood blessings: http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?autoplay=true&index=3&locale=0&sourceId=b8096fb9634a5210VgnVCM100000176f620a____&vgnextoid=bd163ca6e9aa3210VgnVCM1000003a94610aRCRD

A SINGLE MOM'S SUMMER PRAYER

I went from being a stay-at-home mom to a single mom overnight.  It was difficult trying to find balance between work and taking care of my young children.  I shed many tears over the fact that I was no longer home when they arrived from a long day of school.  Before I was forced to take a job outside of the home, our afternoons were spent having cookies and milk while watching reruns of Lassie and Flipper on Nick Jr.--it was all very Normal Rockwell. 

After the divorce, my children had to come home to an empty house for a couple of hours each day.  When I finally arrived from a long day of work, I was exhausted. 

I began the new job at the beginning of the school year in order to meet my financial obligations and support my children the best I could.  However, I never thought far enough ahead about what I would do when summer came around.  As May neared, I became depressed at the thought of my kids having to go to a sitter.  In the past, they had always had carefree summers at home with me:  sleeping in, going swimming, day trips, summer movies, and fun adventures.  The thought of dragging them out of bed early each morning and leaving them at a stranger’s house all day was more than my heart could bear.  Unfortunately, there were no family members available to help my situation out.

I began praying to my Father in Heaven—pouring out my heart to Him about my situation and worries for my family.  I begged Him to help me find a way to be home with my kids for the summer months.  There were days at work that I was so overwhelmed with the thought of those summer months approaching, that I’d go into the restroom, get down on my knees, and beg Him for help—for an absolute miracle.

A week before school let out, my boss called me into his office for a private chat.  I had no idea what was up; just a few months earlier he had given me a raise due to the fact that the company was pleased with my overall performance.  Currently, I was being trained to take on more difficult duties around the office. 

As I sat there wringing my hands, I could tell he appeared uncomfortable.  He began by explaining to me that the dwindling economy was causing the company to make major cutbacks and they were forced to lay me off. My heart leaped! He then went on to explain that the company was concerned about the fact that I was a single mom and encouraged me to apply for unemployment insurance immediately.  Most employers discourage unemployment insurance because it cost their company money—some even fight like heck to keep their former employee from getting any insurance.  But he was adamant about the fact that they wanted me to be compensated while I was searching for another job.

Though he seemed upset about sharing this difficult news with me, I had to suppress my emotions.  I wanted to jump up and down and sing praises to the Lord—my prayers had been answered; I would be home with my children the entire summer.  I went home that evening and celebrated with my kids; we ate hot dogs off the grill and danced around the kitchen.

We had a wonderful summer that year.  We went swimming, took day trips, slept in, played in the yard, went to the movies, and enjoyed lazy days together.  I felt very thankful to be given such an incredible gift.  My kids were still adapting to the divorce and the desire to be home and provide them the stability needed was a righteous desire.  A loving Heavenly Father saw fit to bless our family and answer a mother’s fervent prayers for her children. 

When fall arrived, and they once more returned to school, I was offered a job in a Civil War Sutler—a small mom-and-pop shop--in Gettysburg, Pa..  My boss was a wonderful man.  He made sure I left work each afternoon in time to be home when my kids got off the bus.  If they were sick, he told me to stay home and take care of them.  When they had a day off of school for a holiday or a teacher in-service etc., he allowed me to bring them to work—often times paying them a little salary for doing some small task around the store. My job soon became our second home—a place my kids loved to hang out.  When the following summer rolled around, there were no worries.  They hung out with me at the store, or spent the day playing with a few neighborhood children.  If I wanted to take them swimming one day, or to the movies, or just needed to stay home on a particular day, my boss allowed me to work in the evening—there was never an issue. It turned out to be the best job I have ever had.  When the company sold the store a few years later, both my kids and I were saddened by the loss.  I still miss that job.

From that experience, I learned that I was never alone as a single mom—my Father in Heaven was always there to help me.  He hears the prayers and concerns of all mothers on behalf of their children—single or not—and is anxious to help.  We only need to remember to ask.

For more information on how to get answers to your prayers read here:  http://www.lds.org/new-era/2012/07/how-to-pray-and-seek-answers?lang=eng&query=prayer+souls+sincere+desire

© July 16, 2012

  

He'll Carry You

Listen to one of the most inspiring singers I've ever heard--Ms.  Hillary Weeks.  She reminds me often that my Father in Heaven hears my prayers.

The Tender Mercies of the Lord

 Ocean City, Maryland  2011

Last year, shortly before the end of June, I surprised my only daughter, Emma, by inviting her to take a mother/daughter vacation to the Ocean.  She already went on yearly vacations to the Ocean with my x-husband—her father.  However, on those trips, she always invited several friends to go  hang out with while away with her dad—it turns out to be a large group.

I wanted our vacation to be different:  no friends, boyfriends, brothers, men, etc.--just a girl’s getaway for the two of us.  I was positive she’d say no—but, surprisingly, she accepted.  I was positive she’d be bored to tears—but, surprisingly, she wasn’t.  We actually had a wonderful time together.

We stayed in a little run-down hotel right on the boardwalk.  The three days we were there, the weather was picture-perfect.  Not a cloud in the sky, temperatures in the high 80’s (perfect beach weather).  We spent our days lying out on a blanket or chairs near the water.  We sun bathed, chatted with one-another about life and dreams and goals, we read books, and played in the ocean’s surf.  At lunch time, I’d stroll up to the boardwalk and get us some delicious food for lunch that we’d share sitting together on a blanket beneath our protective beach umbrella. 

Our evenings we great too.  We'd spend them having another wonderful meal (usually crabs—yummo!!), or eating junk food along the boardwalk, and, of course, shopping! When we were exhausted, we’d retire to our room, find something we both enjoyed on the television, and drift off to a peaceful sleep. 

It was a perfect vacation with my only daughter, and a wonderful memory was made.  On the ride home-- tanned bodies and five pounds (or so) heavier-- we decided that we should have a getaway together-- just like this one-- every year.

Well things changed over the past year.  My daughter now had a steady boyfriend, and she spent every spare moment home from college with him.  I had lost my full time job and my income was cut in half.  But, when April rolled around, I decided to ask her to go again, and save every cent I could.  She surprisingly said “yes” once more. 

I called the same hotel (fingers crossed that they’d still have a vacancy this late in the game) and upon making the reservation, I requested the same exact room.  When I explained to the voice on the other end of the phone that this was a special mother/daughter getaway and that we had had such a wonderful time the year before, the voice promised they’d try as hard as they could to meet that accommodation.

I saved every dollar I could and grew more and more excited as the time neared; we would be going the same week we had vacationed the year before.  However, the weather was strange this spring.  We had a lot of rain in May, some days it was hot, but many days the temperatures dropped and were almost fall-like.  I worried that we would not have the summer heat we needed to enjoy laying on the beach, playing in the surf, and swimming in the pool.  Perhaps the nights would even be too cold to walk along the boardwalk—or worse--raining. UGH!   

I began to pray to my Father in Heaven.  I explained to him how important the weather was for our trip.  I knew that rainy, cold days would not make for a good beach vacation.  Being stuck in our hotel room, looking out at a grey, gloomy ocean and walking along the boardwalk huddled beneath umbrellas would be depressing and disappointing at the very least.  I also explained in my prayers, that even though my daughter and I promised we’d do this together every year, this was her last year of college coming up; our lives could possibly change in the near future.  After all, my daughter might not even live in this area after graduation—she had made so many new friends where she went to school.  She might marry, have children, a new job with no vacation time, responsibilities that limit her from going anywhere.  My life could change also, my health could change—who knew what the next twelve months could bring--we had to make the most of this vacation. 

So, each day I once again knocked on the Lord’s door and explained to him how important it was for us to have hot, summer weather and clear blue, perfect skies above during our three days away. 

As the time neared, the weather wasn’t looking too good.  The days seemed cold to me—at least cold for this time of the year.  It was always cloudy and threatening to rain.  The day before we were to leave, the temperature was 52 degrees when I got up that morning.  52 degrees! That’s almost winter weather!  I again prayed and begged the Lord to let my daughter and I make yet another wonderful memory of our time together—a memory that would last a lifetime. 

The morning we were to leave finally arrived.  My daughter was up at six o’clock and announced that the sun was actually up.  As we packed the car, I still felt it was too chilly but knew that I had prayed fervently, and if the Lord saw fit to give us this special blessing, well, we would receive it. 

It takes close to four hours to drive to the Ocean.  As we got closer and closer, the few clouds in the sky disappeared and the temperature started to rise with each passing mile.  By the time we were an hour away from our destination, it was already in the 80’s and it wasn’t even lunch time yet—things were looking better.

When we got to the hotel and I checked in, the woman behind the counter informed me that they could not give us the room that we had requested, but had to give us the one next to it.  I didn’t complain; I just took the keys and we headed down the hall.  As we struggled along with our suitcases, I tried to reassure my daughter-- telling her that I was positive this room would be just as nice as the one we had the year before.  I was wrong.  This room had been newly renovated—everything in it was brand new, clean, and beautiful.  The air conditioning welcomed us with its cool breeze as we unlocked the door and entered.  We dropped our luggage to the floor and fell onto the beds laughing at our good fortune.  (I knew in my heart that good fortune had nothing to do with it.)

That day, and the next, turned out to be picture perfect.  Not a cloud in the sky either day, the weather was in the high 80’s with just enough breeze blowing to keep us comfortable.  We once more sat on the beach, tanned, chatted, read books,ate, and played in the surf.  At night, we again strolled along the boardwalk, shopped, and had yummy fattening food. 

My daughter loves to sleep-in in the mornings; However, I am up early and ready to go.  I joke, saying: “I can sleep at home; I’m not wasting my vacation in bed!”  So, we compromise.  I let her sleep and I go out and walk along the boardwalk.  It’s a great time to meditate and contemplate the day ahead and enjoy the beauty of the ocean as the sun rises above it.  About nine o’clock, I return to the room and get her up for breakfast at one of our favorite spots. 

Our last night in the room, we kept hearing threatening weather reports about heat advisories for the following day.  Temperatures were to be above 100 degrees (too hot can be just as bad as cold and rainy) and bad storms were being predicted.  (Storms at the Ocean—scary stuff!!)

When I woke that last morning and left for my stroll, I was greeted by cool weather and cloudy skies.  I was grateful it wasn’t as hot as they were predicting, but, I must admit, I was also disappointed that we would not have another lovely, sunny day on the beach.  Even though check-out was eleven, we weren’t planning on going home till that evening.  Stormy weather would force us to change our plans and go home early.

I felt guilty for feeling disappointed.  The Lord had come through for me and given us two perfect, hot summer days to enjoy.  How dare I grumble over one cloudy one. 

After breakfast, we returned to the room and packed all our stuff.  We sat on the beds and contemplated whether or not to go to the beach one last time.  After a few moments pause, we agreed--cloudy or not, we were going! 

By the time we packed the car with everything but what we needed for the day and found our usual spot on the sand, the clouds had departed and there was nothing but clear, blue skies as far as the eye could see.

Though the threat of extreme heat was heard again and again on the television set that morning, the day appeared no hotter than the two days previous.  There was a nice breeze and we were both perfectly comfortable all lathered up with our sunscreen and blue-striped umbrella.  We read books, chatted, played in the surf.  At lunch time, seated comfortably in the cool shade on our red, plaid Gingham blanket, we had yummy subs from the local Italian shop next to the hotel.  When we had had enough sun and sand, we changed our clothes, and walked along the boardwalk to buy last minute souvenirs for loved ones waiting at home.

About six o’clock that evening, we started on the road.  We were shocked when we reached the halfway point and decided to stop at a fast food joint for a drink; shocked because when we stepped out of the car, we were immediately hit in the face with heat so thick and hot that you could taste it as it tried to steal your breath away.  It was well over 100 degrees and there was not a breeze blowing anywhere—not at all like the beautiful, breezy weather we left back at the ocean. 

As we got closer to home, thunder and lightning storms teased and threatened the skies above, and about five miles from our house the rain started coming down lightly.  We made it home that night and were safely inside before the heavy rain and storms descended.  My daughter and I laughed and hugged and agreed that we’d do it all over again—“same time next year.”

I realize that many of you reading this might think we were just lucky to have had such incredible weather.  But, I know in my heart it was a tender mercy from the Lord.  He understood how important this trip was for me and my daughter, how much closer it would bring us, and he was showing us love and kindness.  It reaffirmed the fact that someone does hear and answer our individual prayers—no matter how silly they may seem to others; and it reaffirmed the fact that someone does love and care about our happiness.   

I’m not a perfect person—oh no!  Far from it!  I’ve made many mistakes along the way and don’t deserve these tender mercies.  And yet, the Lord still sees fit to bless me and my family with them.  If he can bless a non-perfect person like me, then surely he can bless you and your family also. 

I’m so grateful for prayer.  As a mother, I don’t know how anyone—let alone a mother--can make it through this life without it.  Prayer has helped me raise my children, get through college, make wiser choices, stay out of danger, run from danger, and so much more.

I don’t know if my daughter and I will make it back to the ocean next year—I hope so.  But, one thing is for sure: as time passes on, and I remember fondly our little vacation together, I will always remember it was so much fun and so perfect due to the tender mercies of the Lord.

Ocean City, Maryland  2012

© June, 30, 2012

For more spiritual awareness and education:  http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2005/04/the-tender-mercies-of-the-lord?lang=eng

My Lil Man

I'm so new to blogging, you must bear with me.  I decided to dedicate this blog to prayers.  I've prayed all my life and I have seen prayers answered.  Not always in the time frame that I had hoped they would be answered, but yes, God has answered many of my prayers. 

      So, the reason I chose this subject for a blog was to let all of you out there--especially my children--understand that someone up above is listening, he does know you by name, and he will answer righteous desires. 

     I'm going to begin by telling you about a prayer that was answered for me recently and the reason I chose to name this blog Mom Mom's prayers. 

Ten years ago, I went through a painful divorce.  The worst pain I experienced was knowing that my children were so hurt by my decision to leave what I considered a very unhappy marriage.  It is difficult enough to watch your children suffer or get hurt, but to know that you, the mother, caused the pain, is the worst feeling of all.  The person that seemed to get hurt the worst, was my oldest son.  Our relationship became very strained after the divorce; he moved in with his dad, and stopped speaking to me.  Ten years passed, my son grew into a man and through a set of circumstances became a father to a beautiful little boy named Ben.  My son was now a single father raising his son on his own. 

     Because of our estrangement, I was not permitted to see my grandson--my first, and at this time, only grandchild.  My heart was broken.  I wanted so much to hold my new grandbaby in my arms, take care of him like a grandma should, shower him with gifts, bake cookies, cuddle--all those grandma's love things.  So I did the only thing I knew to do, I cried out to my Heavenly Father and asked him to please fix this situation.  I prayed about the situation daily.  My exhusband--Ben's grandpa--was very involved in his life but we barely spoke.  My other children were also involved in Ben's life, but I didn't want to put them in the middle.  Days went by, weeks went by, Ben's first year of life went by.

My daughter--out of love--would send pictures of my darling grandson via her phone when she babysat, but that only made my heart grow heavier.  I use to have those pictures as my screen saver on my computer and folks at work would often comment about how "cute" my grandson was and ask me questions about him.  I must admit, I'd answer them as if he was an active part of my life, not wanting to share the fact that I had never actually seen my grandson except in photos. 

     Shortly after Ben's first birthday, my exhusband called me on the phone and asked if I wanted to stop by my son's house around 2:30 the following day to visit with Ben.  He explained my son would not be home and I could just slip in for a quick visit.  I couldn't sleep the night before, I dreamt of holding, playing, and cuddling my sweet baby grandson for the first time.

     The moment finally arrived.  I knocked on my son's door, heard my exhusband yell "come in," and walked into the house.  Sitting on the  livingroom floor playing with his toys, was a miniture version of my son--long lashes and big blue eyes, all the same expressions, I felt like I was transported back in time. 

However, when Ben saw this strange woman walk into his home I didn't get the reaction I had dreamed of the night before. He immediately ran to his grandfather for protection and climbed up on his lap.  I sat on the couch and chatted with him, he eventually felt comfortable enough around me to get back down and play, but he would not allow me to hold him.  Thevisit flew by and I had to take my leave; I cried all the way home.  My arms ached to hold my grandson and I once more poured out my heart to my Father above--pleading with him to let me have a relationship with my grandson.

Patience has never been one of my virtues.  Time went by and I was able to have short visits with Ben once or twice a week.  He was not afraid of me anymore, but always chose his grandfather when he wanted to be held or cuddled but I still cherished every moment with him.

    My son eventually found out about my visits and seemed to be ok with it.  After about six months, I got brave enough to ask him if I could watch Ben for an entire day instead of him having to go to the sitters.  He reluctantly agreed and I got to spend my first day alone with my favorite lil man.

  When he woke that morning we cuddled in the recliner and watched his favorite cartoons while he drank from his sippy cup.  I fixed him breakfast, we played, ate lunch, played some more, and then it was time to go home.  I once more cried all the way home and begged my Heavenly Father again for more time with Ben.

Two major events happend after that that seem to change everything.  I began a new job that was only suppose to take up a short portion of my day, but, once I actually began the job, I realized I was misinformed and would be away the majority of the day--long, long hours.  That meant, I would never get to see Ben.  Even worse, the job was not at all how it was described to me and I found my self working in a situation that was dangerous.  I worked around murderers, drug dealers, and in the worst neighborhoods of the city-- all alone.  My anxiety was through the roof and between knowing that I would never be able to see my grandson again and always being fearful for my life, I came crashing down emotionally.  After two weeks, I did something I've never done before--I walked off the job.

During that event, my son left his job for a new one.  This new job began at 4 a.m.--meaning he would need a babysitter for Ben about 3:30 in the morning.  There was only one person available at that time--me.

I began watching my grandson on a regular basis, eventually, I was able to find a part-time job that allowed me the hours that I could watch Ben all day long--no more sitter--yeah!

Things, of course, are not perfect. Without a fulltime job I have no benefits and very little pay, no security.  My son and I still have our ups and downs.  But, my prayer was answered.  My loving Heavenly  Father made it possible for me to, not only see my grandson as I had prayed for, but, to spend my days taking care of him--a tender mercy from the Lord. 

     I now get to hold him in my arms, cuddle with him, play, make cookies, sing, The Wheels on the Bus as we drive along in the car.  Oh, and one more thing, Ben calls me Mom Mom!