Come Visit

These past couple of weeks have been hard. Maybe my most difficult weeks of parenting yet. But, in those hard times, there have also been extremely beautiful and sweet times. Isn't that the way it always is? We learn that there must be opposition in all things. Easy to hear in a Sunday School lesson. Harder to experience. However, we also learn that we must have heartache to experience true joy. Trials to appreciate when life is running smoothly. This was one of those moments.
Our morning hadn't started out so well. My eyes stung with sleep deprivation. I was scrubbing "potty" from the floor. (It was day 1 of potty training.) My shirt was soaked with baby spit-up. Ember's cough sounded like a barking seal. I had a long list of appointments to make and responsibilities to fulfill. My fridge and cupboards were sparse. I was missing my sister more than usual. Jason was out of town. In other words, it was "normal mom day" for many people that I know, but for some reason it was getting to me more than usual, I think mainly due to lack of sleep. I had resigned to letting Reagan watch more "Cat in the Hat" than I usually do, so that I could finish cleaning up and re-grouping. All of the sudden, cutting through the noise of the TV, my barking baby, and the dishwasher - a voice. Sweet and innocent the words came, like wind chimes, and settled deep into my soul, warming the cold and bitterness that feeling sorry for myself had created just moments before.

"Heavenly Father, please come visit us. Please come visit us? Please? Please? Amen."

Reagan has fairly recently started saying her own, very simple, prayers. But this one...this one cut me to the core. Simple and juvenile the words may have been, but deep and poignant was their meaning. Her sincerity hit me like a ton of bricks. We needed a turnaround and her simple prayer brought one. We needed the spirit in our home, and our spiritual appetites were craving a "visit." It took my 2 year old's simple plea to a Heavenly Father that she knows, with stalwart faithfulness, loves her and listens to her to make me realize that I had been doing it all wrong. I stopped feeling sorry for myself right then and there. I am grateful for my children whose sweet spirits, smiles, and simple words bear testimony of a loving Heavenly Father who wants to help if only I remember to ask. Thank you, Reagan.