Following Patterns of Suffering

Last night was a hard night, no doubt about that.
I'm okay with hard nights.
I have been through the ugliest of them and come out with poofy eyes that still see and an aching heart that still aches.
I am okay with suffering, it is meant to make us more beautiful and understanding.
I am even okay with sleeplessness...though I utterly hate it after working so many night shifts for four years that gave no hope of sleep the following day.

You'd think all of the suffering would get easier once you experience it time and again, but the truth is....it doesn't.  There are still poofy eyes, an aching heart, and sleepless nights when you really do have the opportunity to rest your mind and body.  I believe those things still exist because I can still carry a seed of empathy in my heart time and time again....

Even when I have been written a direct letter stating my trials have been nothing comparatively....that I need to buck up and be a woman, and sadly, through means which should have never occurred, she learned about all of the ugly history regarding our family (yes, the ugly histories that every family has, but nobody talks about....because they are just that HISTORY, and when you take it a step further, they aren't even History when repented of, it's something that can be erased).  Yes, even losing a child was a "get over it" statement in that letter...  I think that hurt worse than everything else because you never get over losing a child.  Vivid tragic memories linger, and the spirit of that tender soul is with you on so many occasions bringing that reminder near and dear, "I am here, but you must wait to receive the joy of my existence."

Last night, I had asked the boys to get ready for bed.  We did our scripture, prayer, and song routine as a family and with the chaos of pack meeting, I herded them into their separate rooms and hugged and kissed them, goodnight.  I was in my room when I heard the boys looking through the kitchen cabinets. I reminded them that it was bedtime, they grabbed a bowl of cereal and left into their bedroom.  No more than 5 minutes later, Connor comes in crying a fit.  I was kinda furious...after all, I did say it was bedtime.  He explained, in minute detail, what happened, and I got flustered stating, "If you would have only listened the first time, none of this would have happened and you could have been asleep by now!"

I followed Connor into the room, I saw the mess that his cereal had made and instantly had a reality check..."Connor is far more important than DS systems and Lego instruction packets."  SO, with that reality check, I expressed the deep thoughts I had.

"Connor, you are amazing.  I simply adore you, and the DS will be fine, the papers will lay beneath the fan tonight and dry just fine, but what is more important here is YOU.  I am sorry I hurt you by putting the papers and the DS above your need to be comforted."

Turns out that he opened up to me and said that the experience reminded him of when his Grandma Fultz was here for Christmas.  He has spilt milk on his DS, and she cleaned it for him, comforting him all the while.  It was a bad experience that brought forth a good memory, which caused more pain....because he misses her so dearly.  You see, this little incident was an opportunity for Connor to see how the Lord will work in patterns with him as he lives his life.

Connor cried some more, actually with the sensitive spirit he has (directly a trait from me and Daddy), he wept.  He had asked me at 9:30 to lay in bed with him and cuddle for a bit since he never has that time with me.  I let him know it was late and he needed to rest at that time.  Now, however, I was given a second chance; I took that chance, and I laid with him for a long while until the tears stopped flowing and the breathing turned into normal slow rhythmic sleep ready sighs.  All was well in the end...because I placed the needs of a hurting soul above my perception of what looked to be the BIG problem.

I ended up tossing and turning all night with nightmares.  I went to bed early only to wake to sleeplessness at 1:30 am...went back to sleep at 3, only to be waken by my screaming daughter at 3:30.  She finally calmed closer to 4:30, only for all of us to be waken by my other screaming daughter at 5:30...both girls were begging for syrup and milk, so by the time syrup and milk came bright and early, I was loathing syrup and milk.

After that long hard night, I woke to a frustrating drama that could have been resolved by the same means I implemented with Connor last night.  Offense was taken over things that were not understood by an individual in our lives and when I attempted to make things right, and explain myself further, things simply remained stagnant.

And....
I'm okay with that.
I am okay with allowing a person to have their free will to accept an explanation or not.
I am okay with everything that I said, because they came from my experiences which only me and God can fully understand...
I am okay being called something I don't believe I am because I am simply not known in the proper light.
I am okay with gaining a terrible reputation amongst so many who should regard me in the kindest light.
Yet, I am only okay with these things because I know who I am and I know who I belong to.
I know that my Savior had to endure greater things than I, and I know, through the spirit of peace, that I have done all I can, in the swiftest manner that I can, to patch misunderstandings, even if it is not reciprocated in the proper manner.

I honestly wish I could say that I want thick skin, but I don't.
I have been through too much which has molded me into someone of understanding people in their grief to want thick skin.  I want to feel the pain of my experiences to learn how to help another when they are feeling that stab, that open wound, and that piercing heart.  I want empathy.  What I could ask someone take from me is my partial dependency on another's opinion of me.  I don't want to be known as a gossiper or anything else I have been called, and I don't want to effect me even for a moment.  It gets easier in time to stand in confidence, but I suppose there is meant to be pain in hearing these things.  Pain can always be of benefit...if we allow it to mold into empathy.

There is one thing amidst it all I wish I could have....loving arms that know 100% of what I am experiencing come to my aide and wrap me so tight that the tears stop falling and the labored breathing becomes effortless.  There is only One who can truly do that, yet I do believe we should act in His name and attempt to minister to people in pain, in that pattern.  That is truly what we have covenanted to do, to take one another's burdens, that they may be light

I pray I move forward with the ability to do that a little better every day.