Always Learning the Same Lesson

It's happened again. I thought I had learned my lesson when I finally broke down and learned to trust in the Lord's timing in my marriage and then in my pregnancy. I thought I had learned it even before then when I didn't find a teaching job in the way I thought I would 8 years ago.

Although I have had to relearn countless times, I gain new insights into what Heavenly Father has planned for me each time I struggle against Him and His will for me. Joseph Smith Jr. described himself as a "rough stone rolling." Each time one of his rough edges hit the ground hard, it would break off a little piece at a time and become smoother. I think I can identify with that analogy better than I can with any other. Only, I think I must be made of a pretty dense stone because it takes a multiple strikes to the same flaw to wear me down.

Tonight, I had Mike give me a blessing of comfort and strength before I have the baby. I wanted it to go something like this, "I bless you that your body will allow you to have this baby in plenty of time for your current insurance to cover your maternity expenses." That was all I needed. I could have written it down for him if he wanted me to. Of course, he didn't say those words because those weren't the words I needed to hear--or the words that were supposed to be said. He never said it wouldn't happen, but there was no promise of an early delivery. When our home teacher, who was helping with the blessing, left, Mike apologized because he knew he didn't make the promise I was waiting for. I pressed him to know his gut feeling after giving the blessing. Did he feel like there was no way it would happen when we wanted it to happen, or did he hesitate to be bold just in case he was mistaken? He told me he didn't really have an impression one way or another. Then, he told me that he had been talking to men he works with in the Young Men program at church an hour earlier. He told them that if he had the choice to pay an extra $1000 for a healthy baby, he would do it without question. Somehow, that and the blessing were what I needed to hear. The blessing reassured me that things would go well with the labor. The baby and I would both do well. And that's all that really matters. We may end up paying extra money, but we have been promised that things will go well. There isn't a price tag big enough to put on that promise.

I have spent day and night fretting over something I can't control. It is the exact same story that has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. (Jobs, marriage, baby, etc., etc.) Just a few days ago I got so frustrated when my sister-in-law suggested that the money didn't matter in the long run. I thought she was somehow jinxing me by saying it wouldn't be the end of the world if our baby comes late. I felt like she was somehow not on my side. I thought her faithless when it was I who lacked the faith. I would pray that if it was God's will I would have the baby before my due date. I said it, but I didn't mean it. It was much more like I was trying to convince Heavenly Father that I had it figured out, so all He had to do was to grant my wishes. It's a good thing He doesn't work that way. I wouldn't have learned anything.

I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off of my shoulders. Neal A. Maxwell, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, said, "The submission of one's will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God's altar." My will was the thing I held onto the tightest. I had a death grip on the way I wanted things to work out. But, once that chunk of roughness hit the ground hard enough to finally break off, I felt lighter and reassured. His burden is light.

I'm going into this uncharted territory of child birth smoother and lighter. My roughness is being polished away by the blessings of struggling to remember to submit my will to the Father. He will bless me in the way I need to be blessed. Proverbs 3:5 "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding." Maybe next time I won't struggle as much to remember I'm not in charge here.