Blessed

Last night, I decided to do some researching on the Internet.  We've been trying to think of a middle name if we end up having a girl.  We know our boy names, we have a first name for a girl, but now we're looking for a middle name to go with it.  Jon Mark thought it would be a good idea if we went back into our family history to find an old ancestor from once upon a time and use her name.  So, I googled McAvoy, and I didn't come up with much.  I googled Haws and so much came up.  I was related to half of the people who had written anything about the name Haws and I even found my parents' names.  But I also happened upon a very interesting article.  I don't know why this particular article came up when I googled my maiden name, but there it was...  Why I Can't Stop Reading Mormon Blogs  

Basically, the article is about a feminist atheist who is addicted to reading blogs written by Mormon women.  She doesn't understand why she has such a fascination with them, but she reads several "Mormon Blogs" on a daily basis in an effort to escape from reality and enter into a world of fantasy.  The fantasy world of which she speaks is one where husbands love their wives, wives stay home with the children, the family is happy and slow-paced, the children are well cared for, and where frugal crafts and keeping a home are pleasant activities.  The author doesn't understand where this happiness comes from, she claims she doesn't desire to attain it, but she views it through the Internet as a way to escape from her own reality. 

I thought about my own life in comparison to the life of this feminist atheist (as she describes herself).  I felt for her.  I felt for her when she writes, "...the basic messages expressed in these blogs -- family is wonderful, life is meant to be enjoyed, celebrate the small things -- are still lovely. And if they help women like me envision a life in which marriage and motherhood could potentially be something other than a miserable, soul-destroying trap, I say, "Right on." I won't be inviting the missionaries inside for hot cocoa now or ever, but I don't plan on stopping my blog habit any time soon."  She sees how the gospel brings happiness, and yet she doesn't believe that she can attain it herself, or maybe she doesn't want to... 

I'm grateful for the gospel and the joy it brings to my life.  I look around me and see my children playing with each other on the floor and laughing hysterically over something that I am sure I wouldn't find nearly quite as amusing.  I think of my husband.  I'm thankful he's such a good man, a moral man, a man who so often puts my needs ahead of his own (but let's be honest, he wasn't thinking of my "needs" yesterday when he ate the last Twix bar out of the candy bag!).  He loves me and our children.  He works so hard for us.  That's not to say our marriage is perfect, we're still growing and learning new things about each other every day.  There are still adjustments that need to be made and there are sometimes discussions as to how those adjustments ought to go... but we love each other more than we did six years ago and we're best friends. 

My children often cause me to question my sanity, and most of the time I am sleep-deprived, but serving them, loving them, teaching them, and playing with them brings me such satisfaction and joy.  At the end of the day as I am reading scripture stories with my kids, or as I watch Joshua kneel to say his prayer all by himself, my heart swells.  In those moments, I'm not thinking about how many times I stepped on Joshua's train or how many times I had asked him to put it away.  I'm not thinking about how Mercedes nearly drove me mad with me having to constantly get her down off of the furniture.  No, in those moments, all I am thinking about is how much I love them, how thankful I am for them, and how much I want them to make good choices so that they can feel the same sort of happiness. 

I feel blessed by all those in my extended family as well.  I have such a big, and close-knit extended family.  I feel blessed by both sides and love the relationships that I have with all of them, but especially the women in my extended family.  I have a mother and a mother in law who are wonderful to my children and offer wonderful advice and whom I love dearly.  I have sisters and sister in laws who I consider my very best friends.  And these women will tell me when I'm being crazy... and they'll tell me I'm not alone when I am feeling discouraged.  They listen to me talk, and they let me know when I need to snap out of a funk. 

I do feel blessed.  I'm not trying to say that I am more or less blessed than someone else.  Nor am I attempting to brag in any way.  I have my faults, things aren't always perfect.  Sometimes I complain.  I wish I were as giving as others.  I wish I were as good of an aunt as Jessica is.  Sometimes I don't feel I measure up to other stay-at-home moms who make adorable and completely perfect birthday cakes for their children.  I certainly don't measure up to the women who can bargain shop and save more than they spent.  If I'm not careful, I fall into the trap of coveting others who own their own houses and have them decorated like interior designers.  I can lose my patience.  I like to talk about myself.  I sometimes gossip.  Did you know that I sometimes tell Jon Mark that I have had something for weeks when I really just bought it the day before?  He knows I do that.  My house isn't always spotless (but my toilet is--seriously, I clean it every single day).  And, on most days the only makeup I have on is some mascara and lip gloss and my hair is pulled back into a low ponytail.  The point is, I am feeling blessed with the things that matter most: the gospel, my family, and the happiness that both bring to me.