Some Thoughts on Trials

Ty has long been encouraging me to write more.  Not just about our family and the goings on, but thoughts and ideas.  I (Michelle, if it wasn't clear already) have had a million starts of posts go through my head millions of times, but I never actually sat down to write them.  Why?  Time, forgetfulness, introversion, fear, and other things are all to blame at some point or another.  But hey, it's still January.  And I've got something on my mind.  So why not?  Ty may soon regret his nudges, but there's only one way to find out.

The topic that's on my mind today is trials.  It actually started while thinking about this: http://herscoop.com/posts/empowering-photo-series/ .  I think this is a great thought (albeit a popular one... I feel like stuff like this has been popping up all over the place lately).  It feels like almost any time I read something, trying to help myself with raising my children, someone somewhere is trying to guilt me into doing something differently.  It's ridiculous.  I'm getting better at being confident in the decisions I make as a parent, no matter what others think I should do.  In fact, this is how my daughter wanted to dress today:

Don't worry, there are pants and socks underneath those tights.

And I let her.  In fact, I helped her.  What kind of mother am I?  Okay, full disclosure here.  That's not a huge deal--we didn't even leave the house.  I just wanted an excuse to post a picture of my cute and funny kid.

Anyways, seem like I'm off topic already?  I'm getting there, don't worry.  As I was thinking about this, I was thinking about how everyone has reasons for the decisions that they make.  I have my own list, but that's not what this post is about.  I was thinking about how often trials dictate our decisions.  Sometimes a child comes with his or her own set of trials, sometimes a parent does, and sometimes trials come from all over the place.  We all have them.  We're human beings.

I've had three experiences that have specifically come to mind since it got rolling on this topic.

My other cute kid.  Just because.

One. Awhile back, I listened to a young mother tell the story of a crazy morning she once had with her kids.  Ultimately her point was that even when things get crazy, we can still find strength and peace through our faith.  I left the conversation feeling both validated and encouraged, which is hard to accomplish--just ask any husband.

Not long after, I was visiting with another friend who was present for that conversation.  She told me she was laughing during this story (as we all were)... because she was thinking, "Oh sweetie, that's nothing.  That sounds like a good day when I had little kids at my house."  I didn't think much of it at the time, except for that I'm glad that particular incident (or whatever "worse" incidents this second friend was referring to) hadn't happened to me yet.  But when my mind got rolling on this topic recently, this experience came back to my mind, but in a different way.

Do we wear our trials like a badge of honor?  Do we do it with some and not others?  Why?

I have my own trials that I tend to pull out when conversations steer their direction.  I have how long I've been in labor, which bones I've broken and ligaments I've pulled.  I've had my share of crappy friends, biased teachers, societal injustices, etc.  Why do I pull these stories out?  Why do I have to "top" the similar stories of others?  Does it make me more awesome?  Do I need an "I walked on the moon" story? (Please watch Brian Regan's "I Walked On the Moon" bit on YouTube if you don't know what I'm talking about).  Do I want pity?  What is it?

Two.  I recently walked into a conversation two of my friends were having.  I was greeted with, "Hey Michelle!  We were just talking about how hard you have it.  We don't know how you do it.  You're awesome."  I've gotta admit, that gave me one healthy dose of validation.  I do feel like I'm in a pretty difficult phase of my life, and there's a lot on my plate, but, like I said before, that's not what this post is about.  It felt good to hear them say that because it's okay to feel like it's hard sometimes.  In fact, most days I count as a success simply because all three of us girls are still alive when Ty walks through the door.  But do my trials make me awesome?

At first, like I said, I felt validated.  Even a little empowered.  But later on, after thinking about it, I was a bit discouraged.  "My life IS hard right now.  This stinks."  What if my friends had said, "Hey, we recognize you've got it kind of hard right now.  But you can do it--because you're awesome.  Please let us help you in any way we can."  I don't think they were wrong--I am just thinking out loud on a computer screen, wondering what a different approach might do.  (I should note that they are actually both a huge help to me very frequently.)

One thing these ladies failed to take into account was their own situations.  Their husbands are gone just as much as mine.  One of them has just one single toddler with a pretty mild temperament.  But she also goes out with the missionaries at least once a week and spends a lot of time serving other people.  The other lady has three kids.  One is a toddler, and the other two are in school.  She teaches piano to her older boys and helps them with their homework.  Why am I awesome simply because I keep myself, a toddler, and a baby alive?  I don't do the things that they do on top of mere survival. We are all just in different situations, and our varying situations force us or allow us to do different things.

Three.  This one isn't a single experience--it happens repeatedly.  Eliza is a happy baby.  No denying that.  People comment on that to me a lot.  I don't want to leave them hanging, so of course I should say something in response.... and sometimes I choose that darned "look at my trials" road.  "Well, we earned her after having Afton.  SHE was not a happy baby."  "Oh, I am well aware that she's happy... we've experienced the opposite before."  "She has her own set of difficulties."... Why oh why?  Does it make me a better mom that I've handled a more difficult baby?  Is it some weird way of shielding or compensating for my own insecurities?  Shouldn't I just be grateful that Eliza is an easy baby?  (Seriously.  I don't know what I'd do if she wasn't).  Couldn't my experience dealing with a difficult baby be put to better use by reassuring and encouraging another mother who is currently struggling with something I've been through?  Would it help her to say, "Oh, you should have seen MY kid"?  Probably not.


Maybe our trials should be put to a more productive use.  I mean this in two ways.  One is the universal fact that when we endure our trials well, we are made to be better.  Trials can destroy us too.  God gives us trials because He knows that if we handle them appropriately, we will become better for it.  We don't just become better simply because we've been through something difficult.  I know this is the truth because I have lived it.  I've been through some hard things, as have we all.  Some of them have made me better and some of them, I admit, have not.  It was all about how I handled it.  Being in labor for 36 hours that one time... not sure what that did, but I know it certainly didn't qualify me as Mom of the Year.  It just happened.  That's it.

The other way I reference using trials productively is best illustrated by Jesus Christ.  After all, isn't that one of the things we love about the Savior?  He has been through it all.  You and I take comfort in the fact that He's been in our shoes.  We know that we can overcome our trials through and because of Him.  When we are leaning on Him for support or simply letting Him carry us, does He smile down and say, "Oh Michelle, this is nothing.  You should see what I'VE been through."  Yeah, that probably wouldn't be very effective, would it?  He uses His experience to help us, not to minimize us.  Minimizing my trial doesn't help me handle it better, but understanding and encouraging does.  Powerfully.

"It is only an appreciation of this divine love that will make our own suffering first bearable, then understandable, and finally redemptive." - Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, "Like a Broken Vessel" (http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/10/like-a-broken-vessel?lang=eng)  (Blogger won't let me make that into a hyperlink for some reason... Copy and paste the address into your browser.  It's a great talk.)

I'm going to try thinking more like He would.  I don't need to "top" someone else's story.  My trials don't make me great.  God gives me trials to give me opportunities to become better.  He does it for everyone because He loves everyone.  Instead of attempting to artificially inflate my own self worth because I do hard things, maybe I need to think about becoming great by how I get through those hard things.  I need to recognize that others are doing the same thing.  They can handle more in some areas than I can, and maybe not so much in others, not because one of us is more awesome than the other, but simply because we are different.  I won't go so far as to say everyone is doing his or her best, because I don't think everyone truly is.  But I have absolutely no way of knowing with each person because we are all so incredibly unique, so it's best just to assume that they are.  And I'll probably be right.  I'd want them to do the same for me.

I have trials.  You have trials.  They don't define us or make us great.  How we handle our own personalized trials helps us become the awesome people we need to be.

There you have it.  A quick dip into the puddle of mush inside my skull.  If you hated it, don't worry, I'll probably be posting just some family catch-up for awhile.  If you hate the online public documentation of our lives, I may try to think a deep thought sometime soon.  Maybe.