Sunshine and scribbles

{Six Months Along - July 2008}

The first "emotional breakdown" I had when I was pregnant came when I was nearly six months along and it happened in the parking lot of the grocery store. I had been fairly even-tempered until then (Jared agrees). I only remember tearing up a few times here and there, until that evening.

I had been standing in line for nearly thirty minutes while the cashier battled with a woman’s WIC check. The woman was using it towards her purchase of baby food and formula, diapers and a few other items and her little bundle was in hysterics by the time she was finally pushing the cart away from the checkout counter, her form of payment settled and her goods bagged.

On a normal, un-pregnant day, I may have tapped my foot (or something like that). I am not that patient. I am not that kind. And when it comes to welfare and financial assistance, it frustrates me that it’s abused way too often, way too much.

While I stood there behind the woman, my baby moved within me and caused me to ponder about her situation. Was she a single mother? Was she a student? Did she have a husband? The baby had a father. Where was he? What were her circumstances?

What were her sacrifices?

I questioned.

Then, somehow, in place of any form of judgmental assessment, my heart warmed for this woman. And even more so, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that within my purse, I had the means to make my purchase. And not just gratitude for that alone. Because money is money. We may have it in fortune, we may not.

And it can only buy so much. What I felt in my heart that day was gratitude for two goodly parents, gratitude for their prudence and wisdom, and for the things I had been taught in my younger years.

I paid the cashier with tears in my eyes (a truly sappy, pregnant moment), then I walked quickly to my car and sobbed there in my seat, alone. When I could breathe enough, I called my mother and cried more. I cried and cried, and mumbled for her not to worry, and that I was okay. And when I could talk more, I told her my whole heart.

I told her what I had just seen there in the store, and that it wasn’t anything special, or particular, but that instead of feeling judgmental, there was gratitude in my heart. Gratitude for the gospel, for its teachings, and for the fact that all of my needs were (and always had been) met. I was grateful that our baby would be born within the bonds of our eternal marriage and that because we had been taught to do so, we had prayed and saved and waited until the perfect moment.

I was grateful that when that perfect moment arrived, we were prepared.

I told my mom that I loved her (and my dad) so much more now that this tiny baby had deepened my heart and changed my perspective and helped open my eyes to all things real and all things important.

Since then, I have tried to change my heart and teach myself to leave judgment behind, and replace it with understanding. The fundamentals of our country are built in such a way that we have the means to take care of those in need. Thankfully, it is not up to me to decide who is in need, and who isn’t. I only know that because I have been given much, I too must give. And work. And save. Continually prepare.

Being prepared brings about more blessings than could ever be counted. Being prepared brings about the blessings of obedience. And by being obedient, we find happiness.

Happy, I am.