This is a post that is hard for me to share. I don't want all my weaknesses and struggles posted for the world to see. As fake as it would be, I would still love to only share the good angle pictures or moment-of-strength stories.

I'm hoping, though, that here you will find truth to be more powerful and that my doom and gloom won't frighten you away.
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In Lord of the Rings, Bilbo tries to explain to Gandolf what the ring of power has done to him. Stretching out his years... He describes it as butter spread too thinly across a piece of bread (yes, I paraphrased. Its been a while since I've seen the movie.)

This is how I feel. I feel thin. Stretched too far. Transparent.

But I also feel heavy. Weighed down by the pressures of life and the guilt of missed expectations. I could go on and on about it all. How I haven't been pain free in over a year. How that affects me as a person, a wife, and a mother. How I find myself relying on medication for even a sliver of relief. And yet, avoiding it, and making myself sicker in the process, to keep from becoming too dependent on it.

There are changes I need and want to make. I find myself questioning my abilities every day. Can I do it? Do I have anything left to give? What if's plague my thoughts.

I feel stretched thin.

All that said, I have to remind myself of a lesson I learned while living in a Ronald McDonald House, away from my husband and family, doing everything I could while my baby got sicker and sicker needing a heart transplant.

I felt thin and heavy then too. Different than now, yet the same in many ways.

Before I left for Denver, Shane and I met in a private room with my father and a close family friend.

My dad, a worthy priesthood holder, placed his hands on my head and gave me a Father's Blessing. During that blessing, I felt the love of both my fathers. My father here on Earth and my Father in Heaven.

I was promised, that when those times of great need came I shouldn't feel alone. That if I were to get on my knees and ask, I would be given strength beyond my own. That I would be lifted up and sustained through the tough times ahead.

I can say now, that the blessing given to me that day was what got me through the last 2 1/2 years.

I vividly remember having a very rough day. Seeing Noah getting so much sicker and then having to take Shane to the airport to go back home. Driving back to the RMH that night was awful. I didn't even have the strength within me to cry. I was lost and alone and empty.

I walked into my darkened room (Lilly and Jen were sleeping) and I went straight to the side of my bed and fell on my knees. I remembered the promise given to me that day in an empty hospital conference room. And now I found myself on my knees asking for what I needed so badly, comfort.

In the Bible there is a verse in John that says "I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you."

That night, I felt the truth in those words and I put the promise to the test, I asked.(Or pleaded and begged might be more fitting.)

That entire room was filled with such peace and love. A feeling of complete comfort came over me. I laid down and I slept. Knowing that my Heavenly Father was going to help make me strong enough to make it through.

So now, how can I find myself feeling thin and heavy again? Worried about the future?

Because these times aren't as trying as before so I don't deserve to even ask?

Will I ever learn my lesson?

No, these times are not as difficult as before. But I'm struggling just as much because I'm not asking for help. The help I have been promised would come... If I asked!

Don't misunderstand. I still pray. I pray for my children and my husband, I pray for health and healing. I ask forgiveness of my weaknesses. But I haven't gotten down on my knees and asked like I did that night back at the RMH.

Why? Is it pride? Guilt? Do I wonder if I'm still worthy of that same promise if the trial isn't as severe?

But see, we all have been given this same promise. He will not leave us comfortless. He will come to us. He will give us the strength and comfort we need.

It's been said that the Lord will never give us more than we can bare. But what I think He meant was that regardless of what He sends our way, He will be there for us to give us the strength we need. He definitely doesn't expect us to do it alone.

So next time my pain is overwhelming or the withdrawal from the pain pills makes me sick, or in my weakness I struggle to be a good mother, I will remember that I don't have to do it alone.

Now that I've put this out there, I have to hold myself accountable. I have to get over my pride and humble myself before my Savior.

I feel silly even telling you all this. I know that in the big scheme of things and even compared to some people's little things my trials are small. I guess that just shows how truly weak I am.

But I am grateful for my faith. I'm grateful that everytime I'm not perfect (which is every moment of every day) I can be forgiven and try again. I am so grateful that I've been given the tools to make this earthly journey a good one. And yet I am so disappointed in my own stubbornness.

So next time I whine or have a bad day (or post on Face Book "Help Me Tom Cruise! (My FB status when I'm overwhelmed, that I borrowed from Taladega Nights)) Please, give me a swift kick to the rear and remind me where my help really comes from.

Regardless of how stubborn I am, I don't have to do it alone.





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