My Christ Story - Watch

 Watch

Who is responsible for your spiritual learning and growth? A lot of times we think that if we show up at church, we will be given all the education we need. We think to ourselves, “If the church isn’t teaching something, it isn’t important.”

President Nelson said “Oh, there is so much more that your Father in Heaven wants you to know….To those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, it is clear that the Father and the Son are giving away the secrets of the universe!”

Do you think President Nelson is teaching us all he knows? If not, why not? Twice a year we have ten hours of worldwide conference. Why doesn’t he just unload all his knowledge upon us? He has seen visions of the future. He knows many of the “mysteries” of the universe. Why can’t he just tell us?

I think it is for the same reason that Christ taught in parables. Elder Bednar explained “The intended meaning or message of a parable typically is not expressed explicitly. Rather, the story only conveys divine truth to a receiver in proportion to his or her faith in God, personal spiritual preparation, and willingness to learn. Thus, an individual must exercise moral agency and actively “ask, seek, and knock” to discover the truths embedded in a parable.”

We understand that Christ taught that way, but we may not realize that the church leaders do the exact same thing in conference and a lot of times we miss the deeper meaning. For instance Elder Bednar’s use of the wedding feast has a lot of scriptural ties to the Second Coming of the Savior (ie Bridegroom). President Nelson’s talk on finding rest has significant deeper meaning also (see D&C 84:19-25).

Another reason that I think President Nelson can’t be more explicit is that as prophet, I believe he actually has less freedom to speak clearly (on certain topics) than if he wasn’t the prophet. Because of his position, if he taught clearly, we would be accountable for the knowledge. And if we weren’t ready and willing to accept that knowledge, it would be to our detriment. Whereas on the other hand, you can easily dismiss my interpretation without being held accountable. In addition to this, I also think that the church is under intense scrutiny and can’t be as clear about warning us as they were in the past.

My point with this is that although the church isn’t telling us exactly what will be coming and when, I believe they are yelling as loud as they can without yelling, that it is time to watch and prepare. 

We know the scriptures foretell very difficult times. I don’t like to dwell on those, but they are foretold by more than a few witnesses. Sometimes these prophecies make us want to avoid thinking about the future. The scriptures describe these events as birthing pains. And like the birthing process there is something exquisitely beautiful that will be born. Isaiah 25 teaches us that “the Lord God will wipe away all tears from off all faces.” Speaking of those worthy in that day, D&C 45 says “they shall multiply and wax strong, and their children shall grow up without sin unto salvation. For the Lord shall be in their midst, and his glory shall be upon them.” We also learn that the lamb will lay with the lion and there will be true peace on Earth as never before known.

My point is that based on what is being taught in conference I believe we may be closer to that day than we think. (I will try to do a post later on why I think this, but for now just wanted to introduce the idea.) And we are taught that if we are prepared we shall not fear. Whether things will change drastically in a year, two, ten or fifty, I think there are certain things that we can do that will better our lives now and help us have peace when and if hard times do come. If we do so steadily and consistently, we can do so without panic or anxiety.

Although there will be hard things in the future, we are promised that we will see miracles that will rival any miracles in the history of the Earth. President Nelson said, “In coming days, we will see the greatest manifestations of the Savior’s power that the world has ever seen. Between now and the time He returns with power and great glory, He will bestow countless privileges, blessing, and miracles upon the faithful.” Note how it says between now and when the Savior returns. So even if you don’t believe He is returning soon, take courage for we still may seen greater miracles and blessings between now and then. See also Jeremiah 16:14-15 which says that the miracles that occur with the return of the ten tribes will exceed those of the Exodus of Moses.

I remember studying the topic of the Second Coming and signs of the times and being really confused. However, like a puzzle, if we work little by little, things start to become clearer and pieces fit together much more easily. President Nelson urged us to study the covenants God made with Israel. These will be essential in the coming days. 

Here’s a good place to start thinking about what to do to be temporally prepared. These things have helped many people in areas where there have been earthquakes, hurricanes, or other natural disasters. They could be helpful to us someday too.

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/gospel-topics/emergency-preparedness?lang=eng 

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/gospel-topics/food-storage?lang=eng 

The lesson we learn is not to be so complacent that we are only willing to prepare when it is obvious the Bridegroom is coming (*by then it will be too late), but also not to panic or feel overwhelmed. I know that God will lead us as we turn fully to Him and trust Him. As we learn to trust Him we can be filled with love, faith and hope. Perfect love casteth out all fear. I know that God loves each of us dearly and is reaching out to us and guiding no matter where we are at in our journey. Even if some of us don’t recognize it or acknowledge Him, He is there in the details of our life. He loves us despite our flaws.

*Note: When I say it will be too late, I don't mean that all hope will be lost. But like buying a stock after it explodes, we will miss the wave. We will be busy preparing both temporally and spiritually, likely in panic. And in doing so we will miss out on some of the blessings and protection we could have otherwise qualified for.

My Christ Story - Awake

 Awake

In my previous post I told about the trial of my faith and how the Lord helped me overcome it. That was just the beginning of the next chapter in my story though. After re-realizing how literal the scriptures were, I found my spiritual eyes opened to a new world. In a way I can say that I was spiritually asleep and then awoke. This is an oft repeated theme in the scriptures. And this is why I felt prompted to write my story, in the hope that I can help just one person see the gospel in a deeper way than they have before.

I think a big part of my change of heart came as I became fed up with the evil of the world. I was late to the whole “Epstein didn’t kill himself” idea until Kamie’s brother explained it to me. But realizing there was such evil in high places made me sick. For me it wasn't so much a political issue as a moral one.

You probably all know about Epstein and his island for sex trafficking that involved wealthy and powerful people from many countries. Epstein was supposed to appear in court, but was found hanged in his prison cell when the cameras (that were supposed to be always on) were turned off. Many people called out saying that things were very suspicious and repeated, “Epstein didn’t kill himself” because his death was very convenient to the powerful people he should have testified against. 

I then came across an article talking about a show that sexualized young girls. The article said there was a large cry for Netflix to take the show down with the recent revelations on Epstein’s island, but they said they didn’t want to impede artistic creativity even if they disagreed with it. 

At the same time I was having a very hard time finding anything religious on Netflix. One Sunday I was trying to put a Bible story or something on for the kids and found even Veggie Tales had no Bible story episodes, but only Veggie Tales in the House and Veggie Tales in the City. Literally no other options for kids. The hypocrisy of the situation made me mad. How could our world look at things so very upside down?

This really took away almost all desire I had to support them. Kamie and I used to watch a show every night. This would be our relax and unwind time. I now realize we worked to get time to relax and then relaxed a bit so we could go back to work the next day. Everybody’s working for the weekend. I came to realize we were literally wasting our lives away. 

The following scripture came to mind, “Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor labor for that which cannot satisfy.” 2 Nephi 9:51 (See also Isaiah 55:2) https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/9?lang=eng&id=p51#p51 

I realized that I wanted to start doing things that were more meaningful with my time. But like weeding a garden, you have to plant things that are better or the weeds will grow right back. So instead of consuming high calorie, low nutrient entertainment, we started substituting more nutritious entertainment. I may do a post later about some of the things that we found to replace the hours we used to waste. 

Don’t get me wrong, I still LOVE to sit back and watch something, but we do it in far more healthy portions now. One thing we started doing was increasing our knowledge, especially our spiritual knowledge. This is when the scriptures really started to become ALIVE. We started moving beyond just reading a chapter to check a box on our spiritual To Do checklist and really studying to learn. We listened to YouTube speeches about certain topics, downloaded some sweet Audible books and listened to many more conference talks. The following verse sums up how the scriptures became a delight to my soul:

"Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me."

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/bofm/alma/32?id=p28&lang=eng#p28 

I’d ask you now to think about what effect the music you listen to has on you? Does it make you happy, depressed, lustful, angry? Do the movies you watch glorify violence? Do they inspire you and motivate you to be kind? Does it draw you closer to God or distance you from Him? Does it make you love God, your family or fellow humans? Or does it make you cranky and angry? You make all the decisions on what you consume, but I just want to bring awareness that these things do affect us and our subconscious. And a lot of times we make ourselves so busy with the things of the world that we shortchange the growth of our inner spirit. 

Here’s another scripture that I like that resonates with the change I felt take place inside of me.

"And then shall be brought to pass that which is written: Awake, awake again, and put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments…  And then shall a cry go forth: Depart ye, depart ye, go ye out from thence, touch not that which is unclean; go ye out of the midst of her; be ye clean that bear the vessels of the Lord."  3 Nephi 20:36, 41 and also Isaiah 52:7, 11

 

Now I feel so much more peace and confidence and have much more direction and purpose in my life. Kamie and I are much more united and patient with each other. I have almost no temptation to be angry with others as it has mostly been purged from my heart (but I still have a long way to go in many areas). Yet, like all spiritual growth, I don't attribute it to my own power. But rather it is a gift of the Spirit that has changed my heart. It is faith in Christ that has changed me... and can change you. 

My Christ Story- The Trial of my Faith

The Trial and Witness of my Faith

I would show unto the world that ^afaith is things which are ^bhoped for and ^cnot seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no ^dwitness until after the ^etrial of your faith.        -Ether 12:6

I have felt inspired to share my Christ story. I believe we can receive revelation for ourselves, but not for others (that are outside our authority). So although I have felt a need to share this, it is up to you what you take out of it.

The time period that I would call the “trial of my faith” started shortly after finishing dental school. Four years earlier I had come out of BYU full of understanding and love of the gospel and wanted to share that with others. I wanted to stand for truth. 

During dental school I at one point commented on a post about a moral issue and what I said wasn’t very politically correct. I was ostracized. Not so much by my dental classmates, but by the medical students that we shared classes with. It hurt bad. I also realized how my comments may have hurt others (indirectly because I was just addressing the topic in general and meant no offense). 

I felt crippling guilt and insecurity after experiencing a taste of cancel culture. I may have become ashamed of the doctrine of Christ. The next few years were very difficult. I also realized how I didn’t understand or have good answers to all questions.

I was still exhilarated by doing the work of the Lord and served as a ward missionary and later as the ward mission leader. But I wasn’t as Christlike as I should have been. Dental school was a stressful time with moving partway through school, getting diabetes, etc. I was doing good in some areas, but lacked in others. I wasn’t as patient or loving as I should have been. Our ward in Seattle was interesting. We had great people and also several people who would in Elder’s Quorum say why they didn’t believe in the church or God (sometimes even those teaching the lesson). 

My faith still burned bright and I often had discussions with a classmate of mine that was atheist, but was interested in debating the Bible. His parents pushed Christianity on him and he studied to push back by knowing more than them. I viewed this as a chance to share my belief, but it also fed my temptation to try to prove the gospel. I had learned on my mission that you can’t prove it and only the Spirit can convince people. But I started to forget that lesson because of the intellectual culture of the area and also the false belief that as a young professional I had to share intellectually instead of based on the Spirit.

I later realized that over time I had grown frustrated that you can’t prove the gospel. I didn’t see it as it was happening, but in hindsight I realized this helped lead to a weakening of my faith. But I started to wonder how science and religion fit together. I questioned why there wasn’t more evidence of the Book of Mormon and why we didn’t know where in the Americas it had taken place. I was confused about carbon dating and the history of the Bible.

I continued to serve in the church and was doing my best. But life was hard and stressful and Kamie struggled with bad postpartum after Lydia was born. After becoming Young Men’s President I realized how hard it was to have everyone looking to me. I loved serving, but I felt most excited by the self-help books I was reading that were helping me through the stressful time of starting my professional career. I didn’t feel nourished by the scriptures, even though I was reading them. I felt like I knew the scripture stories from my youth and wasn’t getting a ton of new info from them. It didn’t help that I didn’t know what was literal and what was figurative. I was serving to the best of my ability at the time, but if I had been born of the Spirit I could have done much better in my labors. I wish I could change that now. But I worried too much about making others think I was doing well in my calling and got run down by the managerial aspects and wasn’t thriving in the Spirit. 

After we moved back home closer to family we still struggled. I kept pressing on in faith because I wanted it to be true, despite not having all the answers. 

But the Covid shutdown was a good opportunity to slow down. Doing sacrament in our own home helped me turn to God and feel power from using my priesthood to bless my family. Having more time helped me connect with God and feel His hand again. I started getting more out of Come Follow Me. I had no calling and no responsibility (since we were new) and it was a long time before we attended our own ward again (due to Covid). Having this chance to escape from the mindset of pleasing man helped me start to worry more about pleasing God. 

At the beginning of 2021 my parents said they had a trip planned to Mexico and their friends were too worried about Covid to go. They asked if we wanted to go. We were excited. They said we would go to Chichen Itza. I had a friend that had went to the pyramids in Egypt and I remember thinking “I want to go to one of the wonders of the world.”  I was happy to see Chichen Itza was one of the “new” wonders of the world, but didn’t know much about it other than it was some ruins.

We got to Mexico and had a really good time. A few days into the trip we went to the ruins. As we got in I remember there being a unique feeling around the place. The way they had designed it to create echoes and aligned it with the nearby cenotes was cool. You could feel why it was a wonder of the world. Then our tour guide showed us the “white bearded god” with the twelve men around him. It was at this time I realized Chichen Itza was one of the places Christ visited after his resurrection. I knew more than ever that the Book of Mormon was true. It wasn’t the evidence, but the way the Holy Ghost spoke to me about one of the key elements that had been part of the trial of my faith. 

I had gone to other ruins in the past and always remember feeling a bit disappointed that I didn’t see more Book of Mormon history in them. But here I got plenty of evidence when I wasn’t looking for it and from a tour guide that wasn’t a member of the church.

I was able to see carved in stone an image of Jesus Christ with my very eyes. I remember having before looked up evidences on FairMormon, etc. and just feeling like there was less evidence in support of the Book of Mormon than I would have liked. But having an unexpected testament to the veracity of everything I had believed, with the Spirit communicating the truth of it to my heart was something that opened my eyes. I remember thinking, “It’s true. It’s all true.” I had already started to have a change of heart, but to receive the witness after a trial of my faith was so sweet and so perfect for me and my personal struggles. I remember thinking that no matter what evidence the world could conjure up, I knew that the gospel is true. Nothing would ever dissuade me again. The world lies. The world confuses us. But, the gospel is true and it is more literal than we realize. It is all true.

How Chasing the Wrong Dream Led Me Exactly Where I Needed to Be

I was going to be a writer. Period. 

I was convinced I could write something deep and beautiful that was going to change the world, at the same time impressing all the publishing big wigs in New York. Oh, and not to mention, I was going to do it WAY better than those other New York Times Bestselling authors (cause really, a lot of what they write is just garbage 😋).

If your eyes are rolling about now with how niave and prideful that sounds, I'm totally with you, trust me! But that is where my head was when I began my writing journey. The hilarious thing is, after spending nearly 10 years writing my perfect book, I was soooo close to accomplishing my goal. But it was right at that moment that God gave me something better. We'll get to that later. 

I loved writing. But was I HAPPY being a writer? No. It was isolating and time consuming. Worst of all, I was so busy being in an imaginary world that I never really saw the beauty of being in this one. 

So why did God allow me to keep writing for so long? I mean, couldn't He have bopped me on the head a lot sooner and let me know I was in need of a course correction? Well, yes, but then I would've missed out on the miracle. 

See, there's things you learn as a writer that, really, you don't learn any other way. Most people don't care to unravel human nature the way writers do. And if they do (e.i. a psychiatrist or counselor), they rarely get to take that person from beginning to end and decide what happens to them and whether they'll change. No, an author is a creator, and as such they hold a unique perspective. A perspective, dare I say, quite similar to Christ's, because their medium is people's hearts. After all, didn't He call Himself the AUTHOR and FINISHER of our faith? 

First, a few things about writing. The really good writer's know about something called a character arc. This is, in short, who your character is at the beginning of the story and how they will change as the story progresses. If it's a positive arc, your character is going to change for the better in some way by the end of the story. We crafty little artists have the job of figuring out exactly how to test and torment our character throughout the story to make that happen (all the while keeping you entertained). It's not an easy job, believe me, but it is insightful. If a character starts the book believing they'll never be accepted, you've got to bump that character up against all sorts of acceptance until, finally, they accept that they can be accepted! We call this beginning belief the LIE THE CHARACTER BELIEVES. Along the way, things happen that cause the character to first question, and then ultimately reject the lie in favor of the TRUTH. (Don't forget, truth is basically a synonym for Christ throughout scripture 😉). 

As I was learning all of this, I was also busy having babies, moving lots of times, and struggling depression and anxiety. Writing was, in some ways, a coping mechanism. But what I couldn't see then was that I was full of my OWN LIES, and Christ was doing His best to bump me up against all the right hard edges until finally I could see HIM, and by extension, the truths that would set me free. 

You see, we all have our lies that we believe. In the mental health world they have all sorts of fancy names for these lies, but I love the simplicity of looking at it from an author's perspective. We may be the character that has given up on love, or we may be the one whose forgotten how to trust. More likely, we're the character whose forgotten who we are and needs life to jostle us around till we wake up! The challenge is getting out of our own head long enough to be able to identify our lies rather than letting them have free reign.

For me, I was totally lost in the lie that my worth came from worldly achievements (which were few and far between in the world of motherhood), and the lie that what other people believed was more important than my own intuition (e.i. the spirit). The list goes on, but basically, these lies held me captive, and I wasn't free to live my life the way the Lord had intended me to live it as long as I kept clinging to them. And as long as I was captive, I would continue to spin into bouts of depression or anxiety.

There was a very clear "wake up" moment for me. Someone shared some information with me that helped me see that one of my lies was not true. There was a huge mental shift that happened for me at that time. But just as an author uses a whole string of plot devices to get their character from point A to point B, Christ lead me along step by step, carefully unraveling the beliefs that were keeping me so miserable. Because that's what lies do! Our spirit will always recognize them as untrue and will resist them. This leads to a battle within ourselves (it may sound like an "inner critic") and ultimately it make us unhappy. I learned that, though it is initially difficult and sometimes painful to see the truth, it is usually less painful than keeping the lie. 

I promised you a miracle, and here it is: when I finally gave my lies over to Christ, I CHANGED. I no longer get trapped in Satan's whisperings that would pull me down into depression and anxiety. Also, I recognize who I really am and am busily doing the work the Lord has given me to do. For the first time in my life, I am experiencing JOY. 

I give Christ full credit for this change, because I know that for years I did everything in my own power to overcome my challenges. I even sought help from professionals that proved insufficient. But it wasn't until I gave my whole heart to Christ (which, in my case, included giving up writing altogether) that the healing finally came. That healing came in the form of TRUTH. The truth about my real identity. The truth about my purpose. The truth about God's plan in these last days. The truth about Satan and his desire to destroy me. The truth about right and wrong. The truth about what really pleases God. And much much more! Life still has it's challenges, but now I can face those challenges armed with truth. 

I still have plenty to learn on this journey, but I am finding that I'm on the lookout for my lies and am more willing to allow Christ to teach me truth. It's a beautiful process that I highly recommend to you!

My prayers for others have also changed. I can now fully love and accept others without accepting their lies. And I can pray that Christ will help them to see the truth that they need at this time. Because He really is the author and finisher of their faith, and yours, and mine. 

I am thankful for a Savior who allowed me to wander for many years until I was ready to fully come into Him, He who possesses all TRUTH. I know He was by my side even when I was lost, and was guiding me and preparing me to be healed from my lies. My hope and prayer for all of us today is that we can have the same healing and blessing, to surrender our lies and see ourselves, each other, and Christ as we truly are. When this happens, broken hearts will heal, conflict will cease, and we can finally be ONE in Christ. 

All my love, 

Kamie

Lydia's Birth Story: Part Two

I wasn't quite the calm, collected and in control mom I'd imagined I'd be in the months leading up to the birth of my third child. Life had been an unforgiving ocean, and though each wave had taught me a priceless lesson, I was also in need of a giant breath. I had grown leaps and bounds, true, but I was exhausted. 

In spite of this, the whole family was thrilled at the prospect of another girl joining us. It was right, and thanks to my experience with James' birth, my relationship with childbirth had transformed. I was excited for our baby girl to be born, but I also knew it wasn't going to be easy. I needed to be ready.

I trained my body and my mind, but the thing keeping me from feeling ready was deeper than that. 

There was the pressure. I'd had an unmedicated birth before. I couldn't NOT do it this time.

And the dreaded, ever present reality of: What if something went wrong? 

Lastly, there was the fear that I was destined to fail. After all, victory comes from strength, right? And my strength was gone. 

36 weeks came, but I wasn't dilated. And the contractions I usually had nonstop by that point never started, leaving me unsure of what to expect.

My mom came into town, and we waited, though not very patiently. We distracted ourselves by installing the last of the baseboards in our home (can you say nesting?).

My first two children were born on a Sunday. My sister's birthday was on the upcoming Sunday. It was the perfect day. But when my labor didn't start, I bore my testimony in church, sharing that I trusted God. And I did trust Him, perhaps more than I ever had. It was myself I wasn't certain I could count on. Little me, so totally human, how could I trust that I'd have the answers when the tests of life came knocking?

Monday morning my water broke. Not a gush like with Emma. No. A trickle. But Nate and I headed to the hospital even though I wasn't having any contractions.

I figured they'd start by the time we got to the hospital.

I was 38 weeks pregnant, which was full term. They had to start.

But they didn't.

My doctor came in. My water had broken. The baby had to come today. Pitocin, she said. 

My heart nearly caved in. This wasn't the plan. No, I don't want it. 

Four hours. That's all the time they'd give me to get labor going on my own. 

My heart was set on having another unmedicated birth. I'd spent months preparing. So I trusted myself enough to be willing to try. I had four hours to remove whatever mental hurdle was blocking my labor, keeping me from my baby girl. 

The nurse came in. She was from the East Coast. She turned off the lights and whispered, They don't trust birth here. It's okay. You have each other. 

Nate smiled at me. Held me. Believed in me.

Oxytocin. The love hormone. The nurse had it tattooed on her arm. A labor and delivery nurse marked by the thing truly responsible for birthing babies. Snuggle each other, she said. The best way to get babies out is how you got them in. 

We laughed. Sheepish. But Nate turned on a song. Swayed with me around the hospital room. Wiped my tears as they fell.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess

I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it,

Darling, you look perfect 

He loved me. I finally accepted that. It had always been hard for me, believing I could be loved. It was a weakness that had caused me much needless grief, but in spite of it, I was never alone. None of us are ever far from the Savior's care. He'd been my survival. And He was there with me in that hospital room.

I knew He loved me. I could feel it fueling me, forcing tears down my cheeks as everything in me tried to deny it. But it was too strong. Undeniable.

You are loved.

That love was the beginning of breaking down my barriers, but I also needed light. Truth. 

My baby girl. Why can't I reach you? 

The nurse mentioned working through my fears. It's a mental battle. So I prayed. Which fear was holding me back? There were so many.

I'm not enough.

I took a deep breath. I held the fear up to the light. Maybe. Maybe I'm not enough. But I don't have to be.

I breathed out, accepting that I might need help. Maybe I would need the pitocin. Maybe that's okay.

I felt a burden slide from my shoulders. 

It's okay. It doesn't have to go the way I planned. 

And then I was reminded of what I already knew. Surrender. That's where the true power lies.

So I gave it up to God.

I started to hope. It was small, but it was there, soothing the ache inside me and untangling the tension of my muscles.

I had a few contractions. I'd worked so hard for them, but they told me I wasn't in labor.

Trust yourself. 

A truth from God. But so hard. Seemingly impossible.

Trust yourself. You know.

It didn't matter if they believed. I needed to trust the truths my soul sought to reveal.

Nate continued to sway with me. He hummed the words to the song Perfect. It was ironic. For so long perfection had been my idol. Not anymore.

We are still kids but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

For a time the contractions were consistent. Four minutes apart. Strong. Real. I knew I was in labor. 

I wanted to use the bath. It'll only slow your progress, the nurse said. We have to wait for real labor to begin. 

I was crushed. Doubt crept back in. Time was closing in fast.

My mom dropped by with James. We chatted. Smiled. Laughed. Then my doctor came in. She didn't want to check if I'd progressed, said it wasn't good for the baby. We'll give you a little more time. 

I was standing up as I was talking with her. I had a contraction that took my breath away. It was real. She couldn't see it.

They left. Nate never lost faith. He kept smiling, kept cheering me on. Trusted me. 

The contractions picked up. I rocked on the birth ball. Nate rubbed my back. I listened to my hypnobirthing track. This was happening. I was focused. I knew.

Trust yourself.

The doctor had wanted the contractions to be consistent. She had needed proof. Now she was nowhere to be found as they came one after the other, their intensity multiplying in minutes. 

With James' birth there had been little pain. But my water hadn't broken. It had cushioned the contractions. It had eased the pain. Not this time. This time I felt it. It was so close, but not threatening. I knew that suffering came with resistance. So I held to the pain instead, let it take me on a journey. 

It was surreal, the stretching sensation, the way each contraction opened me up, making room for my baby girl to come into the world. I marveled at it, this beautiful experience God had given me. I wanted to be here, to not miss a moment of the miracle. 

I breathed, focused, seeing my baby girl in my mind's eye. Fear couldn't remain when I thought of my love for her. She still didn't have a name, but it didn't matter. I knew her already. Our souls had resided beside each other for nine months, and I knew she was cheering for me. 

I stopped caring that things hadn't begun the way I'd planned. My pride was gone, but I had gained so much more.

You are enough.

Another truth from God. One I devoured as I crept up to the forboding wall of what seemed impossible. I began to tremble as my body temperature dropped. Nate cranked up the heat of our still dark haven. We knew what this meant. This was transition. We we're nearing the end, but first I had to walk through the fire.

Nate held my hand, watching as I observed rather than resisted the fierce contractions that should've brought tears to my eyes. 

We were alone, just the three of us, but it was as it should be. The nurse had gone on lunch. The doctor was back at her office. The monitor beeped with the incessant storm of contractions that tumbled forth. The proof they had asked for, but they would be too late to witness it for themselves.

Someone came in. The resident doctor. I knew she was speaking, but I was somewhere else, braving the beauty of the end. This was what it was like to walk right up to the edge of the impossible, to stroke it with curious fingertips, knowing it was only ever impossible because the world had been whispering it for longer than you'd been able to hear. Yes, this was all-consuming, almost more than could be borne, but it was also essential - it had to be experienced. Needed to be known. Longed to illuminate my mind with the learning that could not be gotten any other way.

She's coming. 

The resident said something about wanting to check my progress. Nate urged her to listen to me, though my voice was barely audible.

She's here. Call the doctor. 

The calm smile remained plastered on her face. Your doctor asked me to check you.

My body was already begging to push, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold it back once it began. James had been out in three persuasive pushes. I was out of time.

Nate knew. He lifted me onto the bed as an endless contraction roared. It was almost over, that much I was certain of, but the vulnerability raged. There was no trust there, no tethering between this resident and I to comfort me. She announced what I already knew. You're 10 cm plus one! 

And then my body took over, startling all in the room with it's efficiency. The resident begged me not to push. I would've laughed if I hadn't been consumed by the need of the moment. I wasn't pushing. My body was, and it could not be stopped.

Help me, I pleaded, knowing I was in confounded hands.

It had only been an hour. My doctor had left an hour ago. She hadn't believed I was in labor. But I had known. Now the baby was coming, and they were scrambling. Unready. Disbelieving.

The next seconds were overwhelm. There was pressure, pleading, and the power of the push. There was me and my body, and a blur of everyone else around me. And there was her, a precious little parcel about to be delivered.

She twisted inside me, then breezed through the birth canal, entering the world with hardly a sound. Prolapsed cord, I heard, though the words couldn't reach me over the momentous relief. The pressure was gone. She was here!

Is she okay? I wanted to ask, but my strength was spent. What comforted me was the collectedness of the staff, which had tripled in size in the last three minutes, and the soft sound of her tiny cry. 

You did it, Nate congratulated me, his smile wide. He bent to cut her umbilical cord, the last thing connecting her to me. I'm so proud of you, he said, his hands still bloodied. He'd helped deliver her. He'd untangled the umbilical cord from her neck. Neither he nor the resident had had on gloves.

Thank you, I exhaled, exhausted. Where is she?

Amidst the haze, I heard the beeping. What's wrong?

Her oxygen is low, a new nurse said. They patted her limbs, prodded her to cry. She screamed while the resident pressed on my stomach, forcing the placenta to flow from my body. The pain was nothing next to the need to be reunited with her.

My baby girl. 

The sensor stopped beeping. Her oxygen was normal. The nurse held her out to me, smiling and saying something about how thrilling the birth had been. Everyone in the room was amazed, marveling, but they were impressed for the wrong reasons. They did this every day, but they didn't see the sacredness of this moment.

As soon as she was in my arms, I felt the wholeness of all she was. There were so many falsities claiming to be perfection, but none of them could come close to this; an angel trailing glory, a soul that knew no bounds. She was perfect, and yet had chosen me.

I love you, I whispered down at her, feeling the overwhelm of the mantel of motherhood as it again settled on me. And wanting to share with her what I had learned, I breathed, Trust yourself. You are enough. 

Hours later her siblings came to meet her. Emma, my little mommy, loved her instantly and could not be kept away. James got his fill of her in thirty seconds and wanted to watch the helicopter outside. What's her name? we asked Emma. She beamed, ecstatic to be given such an honor.

Her name is Lydia. 

I've struggled to write this story because a part of me wanted the perspective of the witnesses of her birth to be true. It would be simpler to accept the truth as they'd seen it, to take pride in her birth only because it had been "fast and easy." But that strips the beauty from the story. The truth is, we are all on a journey, and vulnerability is the bridge we must walk over on the road to discovering, and accepting, who we truly are.

I now believe something I think I've always known: The greatest victories are those won in the face of great opposition.

In light of this, I've started asking others how did you do it? I want to learn their secrets, to be privy to the truth of their story. A hero may come from nothing, but he never comes from easy.

Never.

In the weeks since Lydia has been a part of our family, we have all felt the sincerity of her spirit. She is a gift, and true to the middle name we felt guided to give her, Esther, she's every bit the dauntless heroine, facing the oodles of snuggles she gets from her siblings with little complaint.

When I look down at her, I'm struck with awe at how amazing she is, and then I realize how small, how fragile, how vulnerable she is. Yet I adore her. And I wonder, is this how my Heavenly Father feels about me? Could He love me not in spite of my vulnerabilities, but because of them?

I would never demand of my sweet four month old little girl that she get up and walk. I know she simply isn't capable of that yet, but I don't blame her for it. I'm not standing above her, keeping tally of every moment where she needs me, depends on me, cries out for me, and yet I assume my Father in Heaven is doing that very thing to me. After all, I'm keeping track, I know exactly how much I owe Him. But Lydia, she owes me nothing. In fact, her very existence is a blessing to me, regardless of what she is capable of.

Could my Father feel that way about me? About you? About all of us?

I'm beginning to see now how skewed my perspective of life has been. For now, what I'm certain of is that one day I will be whole, but today, I am merely a vulnerable soul in His hands.

And that is enough.

All my love,

Kamie

Lydia's Birth Story: Part One

Our sweet little Lydia Esther Bushman was born November 6. She has already been a tremendous blessing to our family. The story of her birth is a beautiful one, unique to her and our circumstances right now, but before I share it, I need to share the spiritual journey that lead me to be ready for Lydia to join our family.

Lately I've been thinking about how surreal time is, how eager it is to run away with you, and then you blink, and there's three precious souls counting on you to fill them with all the goodness they were born with the potential to contain. I know I'm a little late on the curve, but it's just now hitting me, the magnitude of all the responsibilities wrapped up in the single word mother. No longer is my obsession merely over proper feeding, sleeping, and safety. Instead, I'm filled with the understanding that what my children become is in large part a result of what I am seeking to be.

I think I've always been a seeker. I've always wanted to know everything, to find answers and wrap my head around anything that just didn't sit right.

It was this habit of seeking that helped me know there was a spirit waiting to join our family, and it was what gave me the courage to take the leap of faith to bring her here despite the fact that life was messy and we had no idea how it was all going to work out (more on this in another post). So, ready or not, Lydia was on her way.

I've gotten to the point where I love childbirth. However, like most of you, I didn't start out knowing that was possible. When Emma was born, something about the experience didn't sit right, though, and I knew there had to be more. As a result, I set about seeking for a more complete answer for me on how to make the whole pregnancy and childbirth thing become what I felt it should be, which is, in a word, sacred.

Now I know this is the part where I lose people. It's so culturally ingrained in us to believe in the other side of the coin - childbirth is discomfort, even agony, and terror. We've been taught this our whole lives. Ultimately, bearing children is supposed to be a burden, we're told. However, I can't help feeling that we've been cheated by our culture (it wouldn't be the first time, would it?).

I think of Eve, and the choice that she made to partake of the fruit, knowing full well that the road ahead wouldn't be easy but that it would certainly allow for far more joy than living in the garden had. Her choice wasn't met with punishment and scorn, but rather the promise of a Savior and the bestowal of a most precious title:

Mother.

In God's eyes, Eve, the first mother, is to be honored. So why was this feeling of honor so lacking in my own experience? Why did I feel like an incubator and then a food source rather than a daughter of Eve, carrying on the torch of her sacred calling?

I discovered a lot about childbirth that was very helpful in bringing me closer to the answer when I was pregnant with James. I learned about the importance of focusing on faith and joy rather than fear and pain. As a result, I had a really good experience with his birth and felt much more able to bond with him afterwards. For his birth story, click here.

However, all of that was just a part of the answer. Only recently did I discover an important piece that was missing, and I believe it's going to forever change how I mother.

Lydia's pregnancy was a modern day example of what happened with the people of Alma when they were in bondage to the Lamanites. It was difficult in the way pregnancies typically are for me, with the added stress of a big move on our plates, but at the same time I truly felt the burden being made light so that I was able to bear it. There were days when I felt really close to God, and I could hardly feel the burden on my back. However, when I drew away from Him, things got harder.

Recently, I reread the story of the people of Alma, and something stuck out to me that hadn't before. It was this sentence: And it came to pass that so great were their afflictions that they began to cry mightily to God. Wow! I realized that my prayers had been more like immature whining rather than a mighty prayer given in faith. No wonder my prayers weren't having the desired results.

Finally, after months of waffling back and forth between having faith and then doubting, I became willing to ask the questions that were standing in the way of my growth. I needed to face my fears, and the things I was unsure of, and find faith, peace, and answers.

It was during this process that I got my big aha. I believe I was on my knees, trying to imagine myself actually kneeling before God and speaking to Him. This makes my prayers a lot more effective, and during this prayer I felt a soft reproval. I suddenly saw myself from another perspective - His perspective - and I knew that I was carrying way more than my fair share of the burden of motherhood. I was attempting to fulfill the divine calling without any divine aid. No wonder it had begun to seem so difficult! In addition to that, I hadn't fully accepted the sacred nature of what I was doing - I'd allowed the words of those in the great and spacious building to sap some of the joy out of the calling for me.

It was there, on my knees and with tears in my eyes, that I saw myself for the first time as being like Eve, a woman worth honoring. And it wasn't because of anything special about me, but rather because all women are treasured for their inherent gift of being mothers, whether or not they have any children of their own.

I knew then that if I wanted to do this mothering thing right, I needed to start allowing God to work with me, strengthening me and providing me with knowledge of my children's unique needs. Only with His help could I truly find the joy that I had been missing out on.

Another answer that came during my seeking was this scripture in Hebrews 12.

"Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God."

This scripture is amazing and full of so much more than what I'll go into here. I'll just focus on two of it's essential principles. The first is that when we are armed with a strong faith in our Savior, and when we focus on joy, we are able to endure hard things, just as Christ was able to endure the cross. I used this principle to help me face childbirth with excitement rather than dread.

The second principle is that, if we want to be able to accomplish hard things, we have to stop caring what other people think. This is what it means when it says that Christ despised "the shame there of." He wasn't looking at the great and spacious building when he began walking toward Gethsemane. No, he was focused on Heaven and on His love for us.

For me, this means setting aside the temptation to spend all my efforts fighting for a Pinterest perfect life (and children) and instead focus on the eternal. These crazy kids might not yet seem like the priceless, eternal kings and queens they are destined to become, but if I don't hold the image of their potential in my mind, who will? Who will remind them on their off days or even off years that there's so much more to them than what they are currently capable of right now? Who will shine the light of hope on their path forward if all I see is the back-talking and the giant mess they made again? Who will give them the courage to make positive changes if all I do is remind them of what they've done wrong?

Man this is hard. SO SO HARD. But it's the truth. Motherhood isn't going to be one long day at the spa no matter what we do, but the joy we've been promised IS there. It is already there, just waiting for us to reach for it, to acknowledge it and let it in. But we have to change our perspective for that to happen. We have to open the door and welcome it in before we can have the privilege of basking in it. And it comes not in waves but in small moments, quietly passing by if we don't take the time to recognize it and soak it in.

I am so so bad at this, but I am extremely grateful to have been given the guidance to know what I need to change. 

Another great lesson from the story of the people of Alma. Christ says: And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

So this is my witness. Christ does visit His people in their afflictions, but we have to seek Him, and not just timidly, but mightily. I also know that this calling of motherhood is sacred and beautiful, but we have to believe that, truly, not only deep in our hearts but also at the forefront of our minds on a daily basis, if we want to claim the joy that is already ours, just waiting for us.

Now when I feel myself slipping back into my old ways of dredging up just enough strength to get through another exhausting day of motherhood, I can remind myself of what I've learned. I have dozens of mantras, snippets of truth I use to right myself when I'm starting to stray, and this one might be my favorite: I am mother. Because out of the many ways I could label myself, this is the title that not only means the most, but also carries with it power and wisdom from heaven. I picture the woman with an issue of blood reaching for Christ's robe, believing that just that tiny bit of contact could heal her, only I'm not required only to reach for Christ once, but constantly, relying on His power to make me the mother He intended me to be.

So, with this new perspective, I waited as patiently as possible for Lydia to be born. Look for the rest of the story in Part 2.

All my love,

Kamie