Healing Hands

I am so tired. I am in so much pain. My body is exhausted. My energy is gone. Waking up in the morning is a battle that I barely win. My mind is clouded. Focusing on anything takes all of my strength. Sleep is stolen by the pain. 

I am so blessed. I live each day. I see the sky. The light shines through the clouds. The rain falls from the heavens. I receive strength to endure each moment. I am given time to do all that needs doing. Peace comes to wipe away my tears. 

It is HIM. My Healer. My Comforter. My Friend. 

Jesus Christ. 

He loves me. He gives me life each day. He opens my eyes to see the sky. He is the light that shines through the trials. He is the rain that reminds me of God's love. He is my Strength to endure each moment. He gives me time to do all that needs doing. He is the Peace that wipes away my tears. 

He is my Savior. 

I love Him. But He loves me more. 

He suffered for me. All my sins. All my pains. All my sicknesses. All my infirmities. He knows it all. He FELT it all. In the Garden of Gethsemane and again on the cross. 

Because He loves me. 

Why would He feel all of those horrible things only to stand by and watch me shake amidst the fierce winds and stumble in the flood of trials. 

He didn't, and He won't. He is always there. Always waiting. Always willing. He offers me his hands. His healing. The scarred hands that heal the "wounded soul and bind up the broken-hearted." 

His Healing Hands reach out to me. His gentle voice whispers, "Come unto me." 

I lift my head. Sarada. I look up. My trembling hand reaches out. 

His fingers close around mine. His peace encircles me. 

I am going to be ok. 

Life is Beautiful

Life is beautiful.

It is uncertain and hard. Painful and heart-wrenching. Yet life is beautiful.

All the pain, the sorrow. It helps us to feel the joy, the peace.

As I have lived, I have felt the pain of heartache, the joy of love, the peace of God. Every moment has helped me to discover who I am and what I can become.

It is a glorious journey of discovery. Discovering myself, discovering the earth, discovering God.
Mistakes and sin are painful. God knew this, so He sent to us the most pure and Holy One, Jesus Christ, the ultimate Healer. He is the Savior. He can heal any would: physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual.

He will not abandon us to wander in the darkness alone. With His light, the shadows flee and the world appears in all of its glorious splendor.

And oh how beautiful it is.

"He Hath Opened Mine Eyes"

My Story: 

Last weekend I went camping up in the Utah mountains. I woke during the early hours of the morning and found myself sitting by the cold fire, gazing up at the stars. They were so beautiful and bright. Wearing my glasses, I could see innumerable stars. But upon removing them, only four or five blurry balls of light were visible.

As I pondered on this miracle of modern technology, I was filled with gratitude to my Father in Heaven. If I lived in any other time period, I would never have the blessing of seeing the stars, or the birds flying in the trees, or the moose walking in the distance.
Truly, the Lord has blessed me with sight.

When I was little, I was diagnosed with Exotropia or, in common English, lazy eye.
One at a time, my eyes would shut off and wander out. The risk was always there though, that when my eye shut off, it would never turn back on. The doctors agreed that the problem needed to be fixed before I became partially or even fully blind.

At age three, I had my first eye surgery. The doctors operated on the muscles in both eyes. My memories of this surgery are as follows: a waiting room, dark shapes moving around me, a pink stuffed rabbit, and a silver stuffed kitten.

At age 10, I had my second surgery. For this surgery, my memories are more detailed. The doctor's appointments in Salt Lake. The tour of the hospital. My mom right beside me the whole time. A stuffed raccoon. Being wheeled into the operating room. Laying on the table with the light above me. Waking up afterwards. The nausea. Throwing up in the bathroom across the hall. And one blood red eye.

I remember later, too, going back to school and scaring my classmates with my eye. Wearing sunglasses in class to hide it. The eyepatches and eye exercises to strengthen my weakened eye.

I remember. But what is more important than remembering is this: I see.

And I am constantly grateful for each tiny detail of the world that I get to witness.

In the quiet of the night, I watch the stars. In the busy of the morning, my eyes follow the fluttering of the birds. In the gray of the clouds, I see the rain fall from the sky. In my niece's face, I see her joy.

Going blind is one of my greatest fears because my sight is one of my most treasured gifts.

Honey's Simple Joys

Now, before I begin, it needs to be said that Honey is my niece, not that sweet, delicious nectar created by bees. (She got the nickname from her older sister who, at 18 months, couldn't pronounce "Marrissa" when her baby sister was born.)

Honey is now two years old.

This week as we were all on vacation together, Honey and I went down to the "mimin pool" (swimming pool).

Everyone else eventually joined us, but the best part was as we were sitting the the hot tub. The jets came on, and the bubbles began to form. "Bubbo!!!"
Honey was ecstatic as she sat on the steps and desperately tried to herd all the bubbles towards her. She scooped up handfuls and smeared them all over the front of her life jacket. "Bubbo! Bubbo on my mimin soop!!!" (bubbles on my swimming suit). Then she laughed. It was the most adorable giggle scream I've ever heard.
This went on and on. Every time she gathered more bubbles, she would call out to grandma, "Maama! Bubbo on my mimin soop!" and then that adorable laugh.
To Kristin: "Bubbo on my mimin soop!"
Again to me: "Bubbo on my mimin soop!"

Over and over. It never got old. She was perfectly content to sit there in the water, surrounded by bubbles, a giant smile on her face.

She was completely happy.

There are a lot of challenges in life. Stress, sickness, disappointments, pain. But life is beautiful.

As we get older, those stresses and trials seem to dominate our lives. Imagine the joy we would feel if we would only forget those things for a moment and let ourselves enjoy the bubbles.

Those simple joys are what make life worth living.

You are my Sunshine

Today we visited my grandmother.
As we all sat and talked together in her living room, I aimlessly strummed on my week-old ukulele. I was suddenly seized by a desire to learn how to play one particular song.

The song was "You are my Sunshine," and it was a song my grandpa used to play on his guitar. It was the song we sang at his funeral. It is a song that reminds always reminds me of him.

I learned the chords during that visit, and as we prepared to leave, my grandmother showed me a box of guitar songbooks. "Here," she said, "These were your grandpa's. You can look through them and take some."

I gently sifted through the pages. Some were white and new, others yellow and creased with age. But they all belonged to my grandpa, and they were beautiful.

Choosing was an impossible task. Several contained ukulele chords, so I claimed those, in addition to several that did not. I couldn't resist. I clutched the pages to my chest as I thanked my grandma and walked to the car.

I felt as though I had a piece of Grandpa Charles there with me.

On one of the first pages I opened to, I found his song:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, 

You make me happy when skies are gray. 

You'll never know dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.