~by Jennifer

I’m living an unexpected life. But aren’t we all?

My eight-year-old declaration of my life’s work was: I am going to be a mother. My second grade teacher didn’t like that; she kept insisting that I needed to pick a “profession.” I was adamant. I would be a mother, and that was final. Everything I have done from that day forward pointed to that eventual goal. Important decisions all centered around how to best prepare myself to be the kind of mother I knew I was meant to be.

My 13-year-old heart was drawn into the world, with the images of famine in Ethiopia and personal participation in a Church-wide fast for famine relief. I knew one day I’d go to that country to help. My mother heart (see Julie Beck, Ensign or Liahona, May 2004) reached out in compassion as it was being prepared to fulfill my life’s work. My unexpected life’s work.

Years have passed. I’ve obtained various academic degrees. I’ve worked many jobs. I’ve served in many capacities and I’ve seen some of the world and the children of the world. I’ve never married.

I have unexpectedly never expected a child.

There have been minutes, days, months…years of heartache and anguish of this unfulfilled dream. Wondering what I failed to plan that “kept me” from realizing my dream. Wondering if I should have said “yes” to some of the men who’ve crossed my path. Wondering if my expecting was somehow wrong.

But there have also been moments of clarity.

Moments of certainty.

I am living the life I am meant to live.

This IS my perfect life.

AND I am a mother.

A mother of thousands, really.

My decision to teach seminary [youth scripture class for ages 14-18] opened my heart to this reality. It struck me, once again, the other day when I received a picture text of a one hour old baby… the newborn daughter of one of my former students. I must have done something for him to remember ME and want me to know about this child entering the world.

Or the text I received just this morning from a former student entering the missionary training center: “Thanks for your patience, love and support. I love you! Jesus is the Christ and has restored His gospel once more! God be with you ‘til we meet again!” I never expected that.

A year and a half ago I took the trip of a lifetime, traveling to the Holy Land, seeking holiness. I wanted to change. Imagine my surprise when the thought came powerfully to my mind and heart: You need to work on a PhD. So I did. I came home and was enrolled in courses two months later. I’m in my second year now.

Exactly a year ago I met two women who reminded me of my desire to work with the children and families of Ethiopia. I begged them to take me. They needed someone to do research for their organization. It was serendipity. A miracle, really. Unexpected.

I’ve traveled to Ethiopia. Every day includes something to help the children and families I met and will meet. The children of Ethiopia have won my heart. I pray for them, I think of them, I love them. They NEED a mother. (Did you know there are over four million orphaned children in Ethiopia? Over 12% of all children? )

I was studying the Abrahamic Covenant the other day. Oh how I love Father Abraham! I have always thought of the promise of multiplying in the context of bearing children. (See, for example, Genesis 22:17-18, Genesis 32:12.) I’ve expected that multiplication would perhaps only be later for me. In the next life.

Not anymore.

During this early morning scripture study, I felt that sweet whispering: “I’m multiplying YOU so you have a greater capacity to love them.” Multiplying unexpectedly.

I suppose I needed a will alignment. I know that as I’m learning to want what HE wants me to want, my course is smoother, straighter, satisfying. Who knew that my children would come in such painless ways? Who knew that they’d be so vast in ages, experiences, needs — and even live on different continents?

Who knew?

He knew.

He knows.

And so do I.

Oh, how I love mothering.

Just as I expected I would.

The post First Person: Unexpected Life appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

~by Chantal

“We think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years’ difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another, posting to different regiments, the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting – any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of the Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples “ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,” can truly say to every group of Christian friends “you have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another. The Friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others.” –CS Lewis, The Four Loves, p. 85

Choice friends cross our life path at unexpected times and often in ways we don’t recognize at first. Severall years ago, my dear friend-to-be, Cindy, served as the Stake Relief Society President and is a midwife by profession. We had a Stake Relief Society service project in conjunction with the Relief Society broadcast that was no different than many others I’d attended over the years. And yet, this event would end up being a significant experience in the tapestry of my life.

This particular Saturday, we had gathered donations and were assembling birthing kits to go to Mozambique, Africa. Cindy had joined a medical team to give training to traditional birth assistants in rural Mozambique. These kits included a sheet of plastic (for the mother to lie on the ground), a shoe string (to tie off the umbilical cord), a razor blade, and several disinfectant wipes. She then showed a video from her experience there. I cried for the mothers in Mozambique. How is it possible that nearly half of the almost 6 billion people of the world live today in such abject poverty?

A few months later, in my role as Primary President in my ward [local congregation], we were setting up for a Primary activity. I was expecting our 5th child and had to leave early and to go to a doctor’s appointment for a routine monthly checkup — which I felt was a waste of time.

But this checkup turned out not to be routine at all. There was no heartbeat.

Ultrasound confirmed our baby had died inside of me. After a difficult induced delivery, our baby daughter, Ann, was born four days later with a kink in the umbilical cord. We held her, dressed her and buried her in the dust of the earth.

Here I became acquainted with death, grief, and God.

I am always astounded at the depth of pain I felt for a little one I had for such a short time. This heart-searing pain came from the depth of love a mother has for her baby, given only by God. My greatest desire was to hold, love, raise and nurture this beautiful daughter.

Grief was a confusing mystery to me. The anger, the depression, the forgetfulness, the loss of time and motivation all came in waves I did not recognize or understand. Most surprising to me was also the loss of self-esteem and confidence. It doesn’t seem to be mentioned much. But all that I was, all that I knew, all that I believed was crushed into tiny pieces, mixed together and left in a pile of mess at my feet. How do I begin from there?

I won’t go into much detail on the year following except to say that after much fasting, prayer and a priesthood blessing we decided to have one more little baby. Not to replace our little girl, for no one will replace, but we felt to move on. In full confidence and faith we were delighted to learn another little daughter would join our family. Having paid my dues to death and with such astronomical medical odds of such a problem, I moved on in courage, not fear, and hope.

But again at a regular appointment in nearly identical fashion and timing, there was no heartbeat. It had never even remotely crossed my mind that this could happen again. The surprise and shock was more than I could wrap my mind around. There are no words to express the stunned crushing blow that moment held. I literally thought my own heart would stop and I would die of pain on the spot as I collapsed to the floor. It is far more horrific when you know what is ahead and I was hysterical. I learned that death twice is exponentially more painful and difficult.

I fought depression with anger. I was mad. Mad at the world, mad at people, mad that I would have four out of six children to raise here on earth. Logically, I understood everything about the plan of salvation but my heart would not match my logic. The river of emotions came despite my knowledge and faith. It was several years but felt like a lifetime. I felt 90 years old. Then I was numb. I felt nothing. I wondered if as a mother I could ever find joy after such grief or if I would have to die first. I prayed many times my other children would forget and not be too damaged from the difficulty of those years.

Here is where my friendship with Cindy changed my life….

(Please follow this link for Part 2.)

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The post First Person: Hope Arising from the Ashes of Grief, Part 1 appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.