Nathaniel just outgrew his old carseat, and so today I went out and got him a new one.
At the store, I called the DH and he talked me into getting a cheap one.
I bought it, took it home, and HATED IT WITH THE FIERY PASSION OF A THOUSAND BURNING SUNS. I couldn't even fix the straps. After an hour of that, I gave up and called the store in tears (yes! IT MADE ME CRY) and asked if I could return it for the next model up.
The store said sure, but that unfortunately they couldn't give me the next-best model, since they were all out. They'd just have to give me the nicest model instead, at the price of the next-best model.
Darn.
So anyway, several hours later, I have a way nicer carseat. Personally, I feel endebted to God for making the whole thing work out, but you can attribute this fantastic twist of fate to whomever you like, I guess.
...PS, don't skimp on carseats. That's what I learned today.
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
general conference thought: trials
I had a lot of thoughts from General Conference, but we might have to wait for most of them until the November Ensign comes out (with all the talks printed in it).
Baby D was sick all through Conference weekend. On Saturday night I had to suction out his nose like 5 times just so he could keep breathing, and then I did it all of Sunday, too. He hates getting his nose suctioned, a lot, but while he would wiggle until I got the piece in his nose, he would hold still for me to use it. At least, he would most of the time.
This year, one of the themes that stood out to me from Conference was the idea that trials are sent to make us better and stronger. They are for our good. This scripture in particular stood out to me over and over again (my emphasis in bold):
As I listened to one of the talks on this subject, I felt very clearly that sometimes, Heavenly Father just needs to suction out our proverbial noses. It's uncomfortable and gross to get out all the figurative goo from our lives, but it's worth it in the end. It makes everything easier.
That imagery is helping me understand my trials more clearly. I would never suction out Baby D's nose just for kicks; I only do it when he needs it, because I know he hates it. And even when he wiggles, I hold him still so I can get it done, because I know he will be happier once the discomfort is over with. He might cough and cry as I do it, even if he holds still, but once it's over, he can breathe freely and he's much happier.
It's the same with us. Heavenly Father doesn't send us trials that we don't need. And He would never send us any trial that were not ultimately for our greatest good. We might wiggle and cry and be uncomfortable or hurt, but in the end, once it's over with, it's made us better.
Baby D was sick all through Conference weekend. On Saturday night I had to suction out his nose like 5 times just so he could keep breathing, and then I did it all of Sunday, too. He hates getting his nose suctioned, a lot, but while he would wiggle until I got the piece in his nose, he would hold still for me to use it. At least, he would most of the time.
This year, one of the themes that stood out to me from Conference was the idea that trials are sent to make us better and stronger. They are for our good. This scripture in particular stood out to me over and over again (my emphasis in bold):
19 For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.
As I listened to one of the talks on this subject, I felt very clearly that sometimes, Heavenly Father just needs to suction out our proverbial noses. It's uncomfortable and gross to get out all the figurative goo from our lives, but it's worth it in the end. It makes everything easier.
That imagery is helping me understand my trials more clearly. I would never suction out Baby D's nose just for kicks; I only do it when he needs it, because I know he hates it. And even when he wiggles, I hold him still so I can get it done, because I know he will be happier once the discomfort is over with. He might cough and cry as I do it, even if he holds still, but once it's over, he can breathe freely and he's much happier.
It's the same with us. Heavenly Father doesn't send us trials that we don't need. And He would never send us any trial that were not ultimately for our greatest good. We might wiggle and cry and be uncomfortable or hurt, but in the end, once it's over with, it's made us better.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Baby D and the Eye Infection
Ever since he was born, Baby D has had eye problems. Mostly just green gooeys, which I figured were normal. Over time, the gooeys dried up and stopped being a problem--in the right eye. Three days ago, though, his left eye got way worse.
When I saw "way worse," I mean that he had so many gooeys that unless I was washing them off his eyes every hour or so, he couldn't open his eye because his lashes were glued to his cheek. Also in the mornings he would wake up with just a giant encrusted line of green goop, dried, on his lashline. Poor kid.
But this morning it seems to have cleared up. Here is what I did:
1. Prayed
2. Dripped breastmilk into his eye every time we breastfed, and also used it on tissues and cotton balls to clean out the goopies
3. Massaged his tear duct every time we nursed (I tried to at other times, but he wouldn't hold still--but given a choice between nursing and having his tear duct rubbed or not nursing and not getting it rubbed, he picked nursing)
I will say that we only started the tear duct massage yesterday morning after some Google research, but it seems to have worked.
Yesterday I took him over to my mom's house so she could see him, and while he was sitting in his little chair his eyes got all goopy. So I used a tissue to wipe all the goo away. He didn't cry or anything, and he didn't really move that much. My mom noted this and said, "He trusts you."
That kind of melted my heart a little bit. She's right. This baby does trust me. Every time he gets goo in his nose I grab the nose bulb and suction it out. He hates it but he'll just look in my eyes and hold still while I do it, despite. I'm so glad he knows, at the tender age of, what? eleven weeks, that I only do things he hates because they're good for him.
That level of trust has come from a bunch of things: our breastfeeding relationship in which I feed him with my own body every time he shows signs of hunger (I try to catch it before he has to cry). Our bedsharing that means we basically cuddle all night long and he never has to be cold or lonely or scared or hungry in the night. Our showers together. How promptly I try to change his diaper (he hates being wet there so much!). How I carry him all the time, either in my arms or in a sling or wrap, so he never has to be lonely or bored.
And really, all those things have made my life infinitely easier. He rarely cries, because he never really needs to. It makes things way less stressful around here. I'm so glad I stumbled across natural parenting. It has been a real blessing.
When I saw "way worse," I mean that he had so many gooeys that unless I was washing them off his eyes every hour or so, he couldn't open his eye because his lashes were glued to his cheek. Also in the mornings he would wake up with just a giant encrusted line of green goop, dried, on his lashline. Poor kid.
But this morning it seems to have cleared up. Here is what I did:
1. Prayed
2. Dripped breastmilk into his eye every time we breastfed, and also used it on tissues and cotton balls to clean out the goopies
3. Massaged his tear duct every time we nursed (I tried to at other times, but he wouldn't hold still--but given a choice between nursing and having his tear duct rubbed or not nursing and not getting it rubbed, he picked nursing)
I will say that we only started the tear duct massage yesterday morning after some Google research, but it seems to have worked.
Yesterday I took him over to my mom's house so she could see him, and while he was sitting in his little chair his eyes got all goopy. So I used a tissue to wipe all the goo away. He didn't cry or anything, and he didn't really move that much. My mom noted this and said, "He trusts you."
That kind of melted my heart a little bit. She's right. This baby does trust me. Every time he gets goo in his nose I grab the nose bulb and suction it out. He hates it but he'll just look in my eyes and hold still while I do it, despite. I'm so glad he knows, at the tender age of, what? eleven weeks, that I only do things he hates because they're good for him.
That level of trust has come from a bunch of things: our breastfeeding relationship in which I feed him with my own body every time he shows signs of hunger (I try to catch it before he has to cry). Our bedsharing that means we basically cuddle all night long and he never has to be cold or lonely or scared or hungry in the night. Our showers together. How promptly I try to change his diaper (he hates being wet there so much!). How I carry him all the time, either in my arms or in a sling or wrap, so he never has to be lonely or bored.
And really, all those things have made my life infinitely easier. He rarely cries, because he never really needs to. It makes things way less stressful around here. I'm so glad I stumbled across natural parenting. It has been a real blessing.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
finding the wallet
On Sunday my husband lost his wallet. For the next few days, a bunch of people helped us search all over for it, but to no avail. We prayed and prayed and couldn't find it.
This morning, as I drove Carl to work, I prayed to find Carl's wallet.
At a red light, I checked the glove compartment. Empty. So I reached under the seat. And lo and behold, my fingers closed around the wallet.
And not a moment too soon--four days is a long time to miss that!
This morning, as I drove Carl to work, I prayed to find Carl's wallet.
At a red light, I checked the glove compartment. Empty. So I reached under the seat. And lo and behold, my fingers closed around the wallet.
And not a moment too soon--four days is a long time to miss that!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
answered prayer
I still have some leftover injuries from birth. Given Baby D's size, I believe this is understandable.
Well, I hadn't been doing a very good job of taking care of some of my wounds. In my defense, I didn't know how bad they were.
On Monday, I called my midwives and they said I needed to clean out the wound. I started doing it at one point, and it was so excruciatingly painful I ended up unable to walk, and just trembling with pain. So I gave up. But it still needed to be done.
I was so upset and afraid to just bite the bullet. I kept praying that I would be protected from the pain. But I was still so scared.
Finally I decided I had just better do it--better to get it over with than risk further infection or anything else. I said a final prayer, but then prepared for pain, faithless. I was sure it would leave me as incapacitated from pain as the last time.
But just as I was about to do it, I heard this:
And it made me brave enough to get it over with. The pain was terrible and I cried, but I survived and it was okay.
The words came from my favorite hymn growing up. As soon as I thought the questions, I knew the answers. Heavenly Father hears all our prayers, even if He doesn't answer them the way we want. I still felt all the pain. But He gave me the strength to go on through it.
as performed by Sweethaven
Well, I hadn't been doing a very good job of taking care of some of my wounds. In my defense, I didn't know how bad they were.
On Monday, I called my midwives and they said I needed to clean out the wound. I started doing it at one point, and it was so excruciatingly painful I ended up unable to walk, and just trembling with pain. So I gave up. But it still needed to be done.
I was so upset and afraid to just bite the bullet. I kept praying that I would be protected from the pain. But I was still so scared.
Finally I decided I had just better do it--better to get it over with than risk further infection or anything else. I said a final prayer, but then prepared for pain, faithless. I was sure it would leave me as incapacitated from pain as the last time.
But just as I was about to do it, I heard this:
Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?
And it made me brave enough to get it over with. The pain was terrible and I cried, but I survived and it was okay.
The words came from my favorite hymn growing up. As soon as I thought the questions, I knew the answers. Heavenly Father hears all our prayers, even if He doesn't answer them the way we want. I still felt all the pain. But He gave me the strength to go on through it.
Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?
Some say that Heaven is far away,
But I feel it close around me as I pray.
Heavenly Father, I remember now
Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:
"Suffer the children to come to me."
Father, in prayer I'm coming now to Thee.
Pray: He is there.
Speak: He is listening.
You are His child, His love now surrounds you.
He hears your prayers; He loves the children.
Of such is the Kingdom, the Kingdom of Heaven.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
random miracle story
No, this is not about the miracle of birth. X.x;; My midwife mentioned that for 6 out of 7 people, the castor oil works--and for the 7th person, it just makes them really sick and doesn't work. I am apparently the 7th kind of person.
Anyway. The other day, I was a little bugged because I was running out of checks. Paying bills is a little hard without those guys, and I knew we had at least 2 more pads of them around SOMEWHERE in this house. Somewhere. And I couldn't find them anywhere.
So in the morning, I prayed that my checks would just be sent to me and it would be great.
Well, then in the evening Carl got home and wanted to play a game. So we played Guess Who for a while. When we were done, we had to find a place for it to live, since it was a new game and we hadn't found it a home yet.
I suggested that he maybe put it in this one random drawer I saw. And then, lo and behold, he decided that would be a dumb place for the game--but there were the checks! So he picked them up and gave them to me. My missing checks had randomly been sent to me. By my darling husband from across the room.
Prayer is awesome, guys.
Keep praying that this kid decides to be born already. :^/
Anyway. The other day, I was a little bugged because I was running out of checks. Paying bills is a little hard without those guys, and I knew we had at least 2 more pads of them around SOMEWHERE in this house. Somewhere. And I couldn't find them anywhere.
So in the morning, I prayed that my checks would just be sent to me and it would be great.
Well, then in the evening Carl got home and wanted to play a game. So we played Guess Who for a while. When we were done, we had to find a place for it to live, since it was a new game and we hadn't found it a home yet.
I suggested that he maybe put it in this one random drawer I saw. And then, lo and behold, he decided that would be a dumb place for the game--but there were the checks! So he picked them up and gave them to me. My missing checks had randomly been sent to me. By my darling husband from across the room.
Prayer is awesome, guys.
Keep praying that this kid decides to be born already. :^/
Friday, June 24, 2011
another answered prayer story
Carl will be home soon, and then we're going to go eat spicy food and go on long walks and practice going to the hospital. But I just remembered I wanted to share this story with you!
We moved into the new house last Saturday, and since then, well, we've lived here. Which has been cool. Except for that I lost a box of my cooking stuff.
Over the past week, I realized that my placemats, my silverware, and my cooking utensils were all missing. I could distinctly remember packing them, and making sure they got into the car for the ride from Utah to Maryland, and then from there into my parents' house--and then I couldn't remember where it went.
Every day for a week I have spent time looking for this box--especially after the first night I tried to cook Carl dinner and then realized that the only thing I had on hand to cook with was a single spatula that I randomly found in a pile of junk. My mother kindly bought us silverware she found on sale at Target, but we were still missing crucial things.
Yesterday, my nana and I went to Target and got another set of cooking utensils. But I knew that my box was out there somewhere.
So today, I went back to my parents' house and started looking. I'd already torn apart (metaphorically speaking) the garage, the basement storage, and the two attics, and I was starting to get a little frustrated. But finally I went into the library, checked the attic there one more time, and then got on my actual knees and prayed. I hadn't done the "actual knees" thing yet in my prayers for this box. Anyway. While I was on my knees, I suddenly realized that the daybed in the library was the perfect height for a box of this particular size to go right underneath it.
Lo and behold! IT WAS THERE!!!
So hooray! All my dining stuff was found! We can now cook food with our own utensils and eat with our own silverware on our own placemats, and use our own table runner! Hooray! I have been so thrilled ever since. I know I never would have found that blasted box without kneeling down to pray. And actually praying, as well.
It reminds me of this time that my little brother lost his iPod, a few years ago. He searched EVERYWHERE but couldn't find it. Finally my mom asked him if he had gotten on his knees to ask God for help. He hadn't. So he went up to his room to pray. He knelt down by the side of his bed, prayed for help, opened his eyes, turned his head, and saw his iPod chilling on the lower shelf of his nightstand (or thereabouts).
It always amazes me how God answers our prayers--even the ones that seem silly. I find myself praying for things all the time that I feel dumb about (for example, that awful haircut). But I forget that Heavenly Father prioritizes us. And because of that, what is important to us is important to Him. My problems may be extremely trivial in comparison to the trials of a woman in Sudan, for example, but if they are important to me, that's enough. The things that are important to us are important to God, too, for the very reason that they are important to us. He wants us to be happy and He wants us to develop faith in Him.
And part of Him helping us develop faith, I guess, is sometimes leading us to our boxes of silverware or our lost iPods. No, these things are not life and death: but they are still important, and prayer still works.
In other news, went to the chiropractor this morning and I think he may have actually fixed my lower back. When I was seven I was doing one of these numbers:
and I somehow fell to the side and hurt my back. Ever since I've had a wack vertebra. During the pregnancy--yes, 15 years later--the pain there got noticeably worse, until that time two weeks ago when I fell on my back and it got to be awful.
Anyway, the chiropractor actually managed to fix it, I'm pretty sure. I have been amazed at how pleasant walking is. Walking is suddenly about ten times more enjoyable than it used to be--and I used to like it before.
But I guess sometimes we get so used to things how they are, we don't realize how good things can be if we just make a tiny change. A tiny change like getting your right pelvis unjammed from your spine (or whatever he did). The whole thing took maybe a full minute to do, but it made such a difference. It was a little bit painful, but the tiny moment of pain was worth the change it made.
I feel like there's a deep metaphor in there for life, the universe, and everything. I'll let you ponder it, though.
We moved into the new house last Saturday, and since then, well, we've lived here. Which has been cool. Except for that I lost a box of my cooking stuff.
Over the past week, I realized that my placemats, my silverware, and my cooking utensils were all missing. I could distinctly remember packing them, and making sure they got into the car for the ride from Utah to Maryland, and then from there into my parents' house--and then I couldn't remember where it went.
Every day for a week I have spent time looking for this box--especially after the first night I tried to cook Carl dinner and then realized that the only thing I had on hand to cook with was a single spatula that I randomly found in a pile of junk. My mother kindly bought us silverware she found on sale at Target, but we were still missing crucial things.
Yesterday, my nana and I went to Target and got another set of cooking utensils. But I knew that my box was out there somewhere.
So today, I went back to my parents' house and started looking. I'd already torn apart (metaphorically speaking) the garage, the basement storage, and the two attics, and I was starting to get a little frustrated. But finally I went into the library, checked the attic there one more time, and then got on my actual knees and prayed. I hadn't done the "actual knees" thing yet in my prayers for this box. Anyway. While I was on my knees, I suddenly realized that the daybed in the library was the perfect height for a box of this particular size to go right underneath it.
Lo and behold! IT WAS THERE!!!
So hooray! All my dining stuff was found! We can now cook food with our own utensils and eat with our own silverware on our own placemats, and use our own table runner! Hooray! I have been so thrilled ever since. I know I never would have found that blasted box without kneeling down to pray. And actually praying, as well.
It reminds me of this time that my little brother lost his iPod, a few years ago. He searched EVERYWHERE but couldn't find it. Finally my mom asked him if he had gotten on his knees to ask God for help. He hadn't. So he went up to his room to pray. He knelt down by the side of his bed, prayed for help, opened his eyes, turned his head, and saw his iPod chilling on the lower shelf of his nightstand (or thereabouts).
It always amazes me how God answers our prayers--even the ones that seem silly. I find myself praying for things all the time that I feel dumb about (for example, that awful haircut). But I forget that Heavenly Father prioritizes us. And because of that, what is important to us is important to Him. My problems may be extremely trivial in comparison to the trials of a woman in Sudan, for example, but if they are important to me, that's enough. The things that are important to us are important to God, too, for the very reason that they are important to us. He wants us to be happy and He wants us to develop faith in Him.
And part of Him helping us develop faith, I guess, is sometimes leading us to our boxes of silverware or our lost iPods. No, these things are not life and death: but they are still important, and prayer still works.
In other news, went to the chiropractor this morning and I think he may have actually fixed my lower back. When I was seven I was doing one of these numbers:
and I somehow fell to the side and hurt my back. Ever since I've had a wack vertebra. During the pregnancy--yes, 15 years later--the pain there got noticeably worse, until that time two weeks ago when I fell on my back and it got to be awful.
Anyway, the chiropractor actually managed to fix it, I'm pretty sure. I have been amazed at how pleasant walking is. Walking is suddenly about ten times more enjoyable than it used to be--and I used to like it before.
But I guess sometimes we get so used to things how they are, we don't realize how good things can be if we just make a tiny change. A tiny change like getting your right pelvis unjammed from your spine (or whatever he did). The whole thing took maybe a full minute to do, but it made such a difference. It was a little bit painful, but the tiny moment of pain was worth the change it made.
I feel like there's a deep metaphor in there for life, the universe, and everything. I'll let you ponder it, though.
Monday, April 18, 2011
an answered prayer!
I wanted to share this story with you guys.
As you know, my FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR is today--Tax Day! Typically it's the 15th, but due to stupid government things, it's the 18th of April this year.
Of course Carl and I put off doing our taxes, so on Thursday I decided I needed to get my act together and get all my forms in order.
I distinctly remembered gathering them all together to put them in my tax binder. But when I found my tax binder, it only had 2 of the... 6? 8? forms that we needed.
I freaked out.
I spent Thursday night looking. Friday night Carl and I went to see Atlas Shrugged (more on that later), and then I was up until midnight on Saturday looking. I tore everything apart.
Every few minutes during my searches I would offer up another prayer, because the power of prayer has always helped me find random stuff in the past. And each time I would say "amen," think of a new place to look, feel so confident I would find the dang forms, and then AH! They weren't there! But I kept on thinking of that scripture, "seek and ye shall find."
It was at midnight on Saturday that I remembered another scripture: "Be still and know that I am God." So I decided to take Him up on that. I got on my knees and I just laid it all out on the table. I said, "Heavenly Father, I need those tax forms and I have looked all over for them. I can't even think of another place to look. Send me those forms. Instead of having me look for them, bring them to me."
And then I just went to sleep.
Next day there was church, and then I had 4 hours between church and Ward Choir, and in between I had to practice practice practice my piano-violin duet I wrote for me and my friend to perform next week for Easter. At 5:30, Carl and I had a date with Turbo Tax and the hour was swiftly approaching.
And then, while I was practicing with my violinist friend, Carl came into the piano room with his arms full of forms. He had literally brought me the forms I prayed for.
It was really an amazing moment. I've been reveling in gratitude and awe ever since. Carl ended up finding them in a pile of junk in my handicapped brother's bedroom, which is basically a magnet for random things. I hadn't even thought to look there at all.
It was just crazy to me how I had specifically asked my forms to be brought to me, even knowing that it sounded silly at the time--but then my prayer was answered so literally, and just in the nick of time.
Prayer--specific prayer--works, guys!
As you know, my FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR is today--Tax Day! Typically it's the 15th, but due to stupid government things, it's the 18th of April this year.
Of course Carl and I put off doing our taxes, so on Thursday I decided I needed to get my act together and get all my forms in order.
I distinctly remembered gathering them all together to put them in my tax binder. But when I found my tax binder, it only had 2 of the... 6? 8? forms that we needed.
I freaked out.
I spent Thursday night looking. Friday night Carl and I went to see Atlas Shrugged (more on that later), and then I was up until midnight on Saturday looking. I tore everything apart.
Every few minutes during my searches I would offer up another prayer, because the power of prayer has always helped me find random stuff in the past. And each time I would say "amen," think of a new place to look, feel so confident I would find the dang forms, and then AH! They weren't there! But I kept on thinking of that scripture, "seek and ye shall find."
It was at midnight on Saturday that I remembered another scripture: "Be still and know that I am God." So I decided to take Him up on that. I got on my knees and I just laid it all out on the table. I said, "Heavenly Father, I need those tax forms and I have looked all over for them. I can't even think of another place to look. Send me those forms. Instead of having me look for them, bring them to me."
And then I just went to sleep.
Next day there was church, and then I had 4 hours between church and Ward Choir, and in between I had to practice practice practice my piano-violin duet I wrote for me and my friend to perform next week for Easter. At 5:30, Carl and I had a date with Turbo Tax and the hour was swiftly approaching.
And then, while I was practicing with my violinist friend, Carl came into the piano room with his arms full of forms. He had literally brought me the forms I prayed for.
It was really an amazing moment. I've been reveling in gratitude and awe ever since. Carl ended up finding them in a pile of junk in my handicapped brother's bedroom, which is basically a magnet for random things. I hadn't even thought to look there at all.
It was just crazy to me how I had specifically asked my forms to be brought to me, even knowing that it sounded silly at the time--but then my prayer was answered so literally, and just in the nick of time.
Prayer--specific prayer--works, guys!
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