You Can Have What You Want, or You Can Have Something Better

How many times have you struggled to make sense of life's circumstances, your own or someone else's? How many times have you asked "why" only to have the weight of that question press you down, and still remain unanswered? How many times have you pleaded with God for an answer to your prayers, the one that YOU want, the only answer you'll take, and failed to see the way that He was actually answering?

Holding a newborn in my arms, I remember crying to my mother that it wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to be a single mom to two boys. I wasn't supposed to be divorced. My family wasn't supposed to be in shambles. My husband wasn't supposed to be out there, wherever he was, apart from me, apart from the life we had built together. Not when I had prayed so hard and asked so nicely, and had all the faith that Heavenly Father was going to fix this and fix us, and we'd continue being married forever and living in all the happiness I ever wanted. That kind of faith fixes things, it generates miracles. But my miracle of a fixed marriage and together family didn't come. 

Instead, my heart healed, a day at a time. What seemed impossible to recover from became easier to bear, a little at a time. My children still laughed and brought joy into my heart. I still loved God even though I wondered at what I mistook as His absence or indifference to my situation. I was surrounded by family and friends and happiness and realized that life could go on, even though it went on differently than I had anticipated or planned out. 

Then I met my husband, Jacob, we married, and I learned something about Heavenly Father. I learned that He had something better for me ahead. That all those prayers that I had prayed WERE answered, and that He gave me something more than I had hoped for. Eight years being married to Jacob, and I stand in awe at the goodness of God and His wisdom. I look at this man that I get to spend my days with, and oh, how grateful I am that THIS is the man I'm married to. THIS was the answer to all those prayers I prayed. When I imagined that God stood by in apathetic silence, He was working His miracles, pouring out His goodness, bringing me my sweet Jacob. Jeffrey R. Holland said, "You can have what you want, or you can have something better." God gave me something better, and I never stop thanking Him for that.

I didn't see how good God was that until the "better" came, though. If God is good, is He not ALWAYS good? Sometimes the "whys" go unanswered for a time. Sometimes we have to wait for the "why" to manifest itself, and then we remember that God is good. But I want to remember that when I don't know the "why". I want to remember that in the middle of the pain, in the middle of uncertainty and changes, in the middle of loss, in the middle of suffering, in the middle of the darkness. I want to know then as much as I'll know later that God is so very good, and He is always good. I want to remember that when everything is falling apart, God will help me build something better. 

What we don't see now is that there is ALWAYS goodness ahead. There is always a brighter hope, a fuller joy, the sun breaking through the clouds, a miracle. We may not know His time frame or comprehend His ways, but they are the better ways. I know that just as I thank Him for my sweet Jacob, I'll thank Him for His goodness in every situation. For God is good all the time. And all the time God is good. 

Faith Climbs Mountains

Faith moves mountains. I believe that. There is no doubt in my mind that miracles occur daily, sometimes quietly or other times in an undeniable manifestation. But more often, faith CLIMBS mountains. Those mountains that won't move -- that God doesn't see fit to remove from our path for reasons that I'm certain we will thank Him for later -- those ones, we have to climb. And that takes faith from the deepest reserves of our soul to trust that we are capable of climbing, that we will reach the top, and that there is a view up there more majestic than we can imagine. One that we don't see from the bottom looking up, but only from the top looking down and out and around.

I rocked my baby girl this afternoon for her nap while she drank her bottle and rustled her hands through her hair like she does every single time she drinks her bottle. Bottle goes to her mouth, hands go to her hair, and I love it. As I watched her, I smiled, and I reflected on the beauty and fullness of this moment in my life as a mother. My last baby, barely a baby anymore. Remembering how I waited, counting every minute and second for the first few months of all of my babies' lives to fly by so that the postpartum anxiety and depression would dissipate and let me have my life back. It always did. But those days when I had to suffer through it were harrowing, to say the least. Those times are just memories now. Mountains that I already climbed. The views at the top WERE and ARE worth it. Absolutely worth every tear and every torn muscle.

While I rocked her and thought of the happiness of my life these days, friends, and even strangers, came to my mind who are in the process of climbing their own mountains right now. Some are still standing at the bottom looking up and wondering why it won't just move, how they're going to make it up there, and if there is anything for them at the top. A friend who lost her husband unexpectedly in his sleep one night and raises three children on her own right now is always on my mind. Another friend trying so desperately to have a baby, losing her dad to cancer recently and watching her mom barely hanging on because of another illness. A mother, whom I do not know, who took her own life this week because of a battle with postpartum psychosis and leaves behind 6 of her babies and a heartbroken husband. The sister of someone in my family dealing with her husband's brain tumor. A beautiful young girl, spreading light and hope while she is confined to her bed with bipolarity, living in a world of darkness and, ironically, teaching others of light. A beautiful friend struggling with the consequences of her husband's addiction.

Because I've climbed and made it to the top several times,  I believe it is my responsibility to urge on other climbers. I know how lonely it can feel when you're hanging on to the side, praying you don't fall off, wondering if Heaven is even listening. I know how tired you can feel up there when you've been climbing for days, weeks, years and still haven't reached the top. I know what it's like, even if we climb different mountains for different periods of time. And if there's one thing that climbing mountains has taught me it's compassion. I didn't want to do it alone, and I don't want others to do it alone if I am able to cheer them on and send my voice to Heaven along with theirs.

Everybody has mountains. Everybody. That was something that used to make me angry with God. If you love us all so much, why do you let us cry out in pain? I just couldn't make sense of it. I was always annoyed at Heavenly Father when they came, my mountains and other people's mountains. Do you not hear us? What are you doing up there?

But after reaching the top of one of the steepest and most strenuous climbs of my life, one that I was sure would break me body and soul, I saw something. The view from the top took my breath away. THIS is what I had climbed for. I knew then, and I know every time now, that God is in the details of our lives. He sees that view from the top. He knows what's coming when we keep climbing. He knows that we can climb, that we are capable. And He is cheering us on.

So long ago, a baby was born. That baby grew and became a perfect man. He loved, forgave, healed, blessed, lifted, regenerated, bled, died, and overcame so that He could climb mountains for us and with us. You are not alone. The God of Heaven and Earth does hear you, He knows your pain, and "He and the angels of Heaven weep with you." What my mountains have taught me I thank Him for daily. Faith can move mountains, but I am so grateful that faith often climbs them instead.