A kink in my neck

Last night Darin and I had a visitor in our bed in the form of a very sad two year old. The cry that brought him to our bed was an intense scared cry, and he was anxious to be consoled. As I snuggled him next to me, I realized that his sadness required the "every inch of my body must be touching yours" kind of reassurance. David was invited to snuggle up next to Dad, but only Mom would do. After he had calmed down, I looked over to see the mile and a half in between Darin and I and tried to move David to the middle so we all (meaning I) could sleep comfortably. His tears started again, and he once again molded to my body. I was hanging off the edge of the bed, my neck was twisted in an inhuman position, and I was tempted to be annoyed about it. Then my mind went where it has been often lately, to Stephanie and Christian Nielson. I don't know them. In fact, I hadn't even discovered NieNie's blog until after the plane crash. But, like many in the blogging world I was instantly smitten, and I spent much of my computer time reading past entries, then reading about their recovery. So in the very early hours of the morning with a sleeping child next to me, my tears started. I thought about how grateful the Nielson children would be to be able to snuggle up to their parents, and how anxious Christian and Stephanie would be to allow it if it were possible. I thought of how fragile life is, and how important it is to live every day with purpose. My heart broke for the whole family, and at the same time I was touched by their faith, their strength, and their commitment to each other. My tears turned into a prayer. I prayed for the recovery of Christian and Stephanie, the children, the extended family, the doctors, the family of the flight instructor who died, peace for all involved, and then I was filled with an immense sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to be a wife and a mother to an amazing husband and beautiful children. Gratitude for the gospel. Gratitude for the peace that can only come through the whisperings of the Spirit. I fell asleep with this sense of peace and with a strong and heartfelt desire to to better. To be the kind of wife and mother I know I am capable of. To be a little more kind. To "enjoy the journey" instead of endure it. To smile more and frown less. To praise more and criticize less. The thing about tragedy is that it forces us to take a step back and look at the big picture; to help us re-prioritize and see again what really matters. I am a stranger to these people, and yet their life and their struggles have been a big part of a profound life lesson learned. I pulled David closer to me, kissed his sweaty head, and put my arm around him. I awoke to a substantial kink in my neck; the result of the position of sleep through the night. I used it as a reminder for the lessons I learned in the wee hours of the morning. Every time I turned my head, I remembered to be grateful for my many blessings. I came downstairs this morning, and instead of thinking about donating to the Nielson fund, I did it. My contribution will likely not pay for much, but my donation added to the thousands of others who have already donated will make a difference. (If you want to donate, click here.) I am also planning on ordering this necklace. It will be my reminder when the kink in my neck is gone.