A Nice Definition of a Good Life

We've experienced a lot of changes in the past few months. Most of them are good changes, but with them has come a really frustrating side effect. We have real estate to sell in a terrible market, Travis has to start a new economy-driven job in a terrible economy, one of my kids is having a really hard time making a good friend since we moved, and finances are stressful and difficult.

I really think that in the long run, the changes we've sacrificed to make are going to be worth it. The real estate will eventually sell (I'm exercising faith), the job will hopefully improve and even if it doesn't, the atmosphere for Travis is far superior to what he was dealing with before. My friendless child will eventually get a friend (faith in my prayers again), and we'll look back on these things and the pros will outweigh the cons.

In the meantime, I feel torn, frayed, and frazzled. I have prayed for resolution to these trials. We've fasted for them, as well. I find myself sighing a lot. Several years ago, it seemed my daughter was having trouble breathing. She would gasp in a ragged breath that seemed inadequate to fill her lungs, then she'd let out a long, sad sigh. Being concerned that she was having trouble breathing, I took her to the doctor. He examined her and then asked her to wait in the waiting room while we went over a few things.

After she was gone, he informed me that she had a condition called "sighing." What on earth is that? you ask. It is a very real mechanism our body uses to try to deal with sadness, loneliness and stress. She didn't have a good friend and was spending her recesses sitting alone and watching the other kids play, shyly unwilling to push herself into any group that she might not be wanted in. It broke my heart and I went on a campaign to try to help her through it. Her aunt took her on a special outing, just the two of them. We talked at length about how she could find someone to befriend. I talked to her teacher. Many of us prayed. Together we helped her through it.

Now I find myself sighing. A lot. I look around me and the ironies are incredible. We're living in the nicest house of our marriage--by miles. But finances are more strapped than they ever have been. Overall, my kids are in schools that are just as good or better than the schools they left, and yet I have a child not adjusting and fitting in. We've spent most of our marriage sacrificing so we could own real estate--the surest investment--and yet we can't get them sold now that we need to.

I know others carry burdens greater than mine and would gladly trade me trials, but I have been feeling so overwhelmed lately. Many times I have been brought to tears as I try to figure out how we're supposed to follow the counsel of the prophet (on many subjects) and still survive until this trial passes.

It is with these things in the back of my mind that I drove to Bountiful today to take pictures of our house there so that we can get it listed as soon as the renters leave. They had so much garbage and so many cars in front of the house, that we were unable to accomplish that reason for the trip. I was frustrated and feeling a little panicky at what lies ahead of us before things get better.

We were listening to a song on a cd. Most of the song was pleasant but meaningless to me, but in the middle of the song, there's a line I've heard many times and even sung along with. But today it was like I was hearing it for the first time. The line goes, "It's when you cry just a little, but you laugh in the middle that you've made it."

That line really stuck out to me. We still laugh. We still love each other. We still have fun together. Does that mean we've made it? Maybe it does. Maybe I need to continue to hope and pray that things improve, but maybe I need to realize that life is good now--not just when the job improves, or the houses sell, or everyone has a friend outside the family. We do have each other, after all.

I'm still worried about all the things I've mentioned, but I think that line told me that I need to realize that we're okay, right here, right now. Even with the tears that are mixed in with the laughter. I'm going to try to remember that.