Change is Good

One year ago, I was easing into married life. I was working my way through season after season of Psych while Graham worked long hours at Ernst & Young, and I was still unpacking boxes in our new apartment.

Now, I'm contemplating when I should start packing those boxes again. I'm wondering if we'll have a new room to decorate in a new house before this little boy makes his debut in May. I'm making guesses as to what time Graham will get home tonight from his first day at his new job.

I feel like I'm in the middle of a game of Yahtzee. I've rolled the dice, but I'm still waiting for the dice to land and to see what score I get.

Yes, we're crazy. We know. We've seen the looks people give us when we tell them that there's a good chance we'll move within a month of the baby's due date. I mean, who decides to have a baby, buy a house, and switch careers all in just a few months? Oh right, that's us.

Still, these are all good changes, and I'm excited at the direction our life is going. So...

BRING ON THE CHANGES!

That's a big statement to come from the fingertips of a girl who really doesn't like decisions and thoroughly enjoys the stability and comfort of a life well-planned. But I mean it. Bring on the paperwork of housing, the sleepless nights of motherhood, and all the uncertainty of starting something (or somethings) new.

Speaking of new, I'm SO not used to this belly of mine. I don't know how he's going to keep getting bigger for three more months!

The above picture is mostly for my mom, who has patiently waited for me to show her a pregnant shot. Here are some more shots for Mom, but you're welcome to admire my cute baby, too.

One Step

I have been thinking a lot about fog lately. Not because much fog actually exists in Utah, because it's a rarity. Maybe it's because fog always makes me think of the dark, wintery nights of my childhood in the valley where fog was our version of a white Christmas.

Fog is an interesting phenomenon. Basically it's the equivalent of being inside a cloud. It's completely traversable, but often it looks completely solid. I have a memory of riding in the car one particularly foggy night when we truly could not see more that ten feet in front of the front bumper of our station wagon. We could see so little that my mom had my brother get out of the car and walk in front of it as a reference point. By doing so, we doubled our visibility distance. As we crawled along, hoping there was nothing dangerous ahead, the fog dissipated foot by foot with each bit we moved forward, and the world behind that wall of mist was revealed. We couldn't see the entire road, but enough landmarks emerged from the nothingness that we were able to keep going. Finally, the shadowy outline of our house appeared and we were safe at home again.

As I was remembering this story today, a verse from the hymn "Lead Kindly Light" came to mind:

Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home; lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

So often in life, we want to see the whole picture, but one step at a time is all we get. We have to take that step and hold on in faith that we will be able to see enough to take another one after.

Sometimes, if we could see the whole scene, we wouldn't want to take even that first step, like in the story of a woman who told her mother, "I can't stand having sixteen more of those [radiation] treatments."

Her wise mother responded, "Can you go today?"

"Yes."

"Well, honey, that's all you have to do today."

One day. One step. One moment at a time. That's all we have to do. Life has an uncanny ability to become overwhelming, but when we take a piece at a time, it becomes manageable.

I feel hugely blessed in life right now, but I know that trials will surely come my way again. Life isn't always (or even often) easy. As I prepare to become a mother in the next few months, I've begun to think about the massive undertaking that this is. I'm thrilled about it, but I'm also sure there will be days that will overwhelm me as I try to figure out how to raise this little boy that is being sent to me. I may not know how he'll turn out as an adult, and I may not even know how I'm going to get dinner on the table with everything else going on, but I can still enjoy the moment I'm in. My goal for this year is to take one step, one day, one moment at a time. By doing that, I hope to savor the present more and look to the Savior for guidance about where and how to move forward.