Hope

Hope seems to be more tangible. Much easier. More real.

I don't know if it is because the bad news doesn't seem to be coming as often.

Or if it is because I have totally thrown myself into the Williams Warriors fundraiser.

Or if it is because there is

lightness...

happiness...

joy...

in my moms voice again,

which is like a breath of fresh air.

I don't know what it is, maybe it is a combination of everything but for this very second in time my life seems to be "normal" again.

While sitting in church on Sunday I found myself recalling the events of the previous week.

How it felt like I was sucker punched when my dad said, "they have found cancer."

How I didn't think that it could hurt any worse... until it did.

How I sobbed into my husbands arms after finding out how far the cancer had spread.

How he sobbed into mine.

However, among all the feelings of hurt, sadness, pain, and difficulty there was one overriding feeling of love.

The thought kept coming to me, "you have learned. If you do not share it, why have you learned it?"

At that moment I knew

I couldn't take my dads illness away.

I couldn't take my moms heartache away.

I couldn't change the facts.

However, I COULD share. Share what God has taught me.

It is amazing to me how the Lord teaches and allows us to learn. I have sat in and taught lesson after lesson about our Savior, about His atonement, about His love. All of them done with every energy of my heart. However, it is amazing how once we think we "know" something the Lord kindly allows us to

dig deeper,

to study harder,

to understand better.

What a blessing it is that He not only suffered in Gethsemane for our sins so that we can return to Live with Him again but that He suffered for our pains, our weaknesses, our sadness so that He completely understands as well.

I remember when I was in labor with Cade.

It got to point that I found myself thinking that if the contractions could stop for just 10 seconds so that I could get 1 deep breath then I would be okay.

They didn't stop.

But we both made it through.

I found myself thinking the same thing as the tears flowed for my dad. That all I wanted to do was escape. For just one minute. Just to breath.

It was then that it occurred to me. Even though it hurt... a lot. I was not holding this burden alone. The Savior completely and wholly understood.

He had walked that path and was now walking it with me.

I could breath.

How thankful I am that He didn't just take the pain away, although I wished for it.

In these short yet eternal 7 days I have learned more about the Lord, His gospel, and myself than I could have ever imagined.

I am sure there are more tears to be cried. More aches to feel. More sleepless nights.

However, now I understand, even more than I did before, that we are not expected to hurt alone.

He is there.

Arms wide open.

All we must do is turn to Him.

It might still hurt.

But we will NEVER be alone.