December 25, 2021
Having just finished my first semester back in college, I am grateful to have had today to reflect a bit. I got a 98.05% in Chemistry and a 103.89% in Biocalculus . . . Honestly, I consider it a miracle. Going into this semester, I was secretly terrified. Nathaniel’s residency continues to get busier and more demanding, we have 3 kids (2 still at home during the day), I was the YW President, I was running my business from home, COVID still freaked me out, and finances were extremely tight. It seemed like an uphill battle. But I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to go back to school and take the steps necessary to apply for medical school, and I couldn’t afford not to listen. So we just awkwardly jumped in and limped along. Somehow I got A’s. Somehow we were blessed with amazing childcare. Somehow, even though it doesn’t make any sense, we are making it through financially. Somehow my relationship with my daughters seems better than ever. And somehow the first semester is over and it still feels like we are on the right track. I believe now more than ever in loving Heavenly Parents who bless us when we “cheerfully do all things that lie in our power and then stand still to see the salvation of God and for His arm to be revealed” (D&C 123:17). That has been our family scripture since we started med school 7.5 years ago, and it continues to inspire us to kneel down and look up when things get hard. This Christmas, I am so grateful for the miracles that continue to exist around us. And I am grateful and excited that God has a work for me, and I can’t wait to figure out what my divine assignments are as I work to be who I believe He wants me to be.
Here is a poem I wrote inspired by our favorite scripture D&C 123:16-17:
Large ships tossed on waves of uncertainty.
Small helms steer, keeping us afloat.
Weighty doors shut, blocking all clarity.
Small hinges swing open, the future is broached.
Through the lens of waves, the lens of doors,
Can now be seen a view better than hoped.
Scarring times, low times it’s said of most,
Merely come knocking with wrinkles and mopes.
Yet thriving, not surviving, the refining fire’s heat,
Will lift us higher to the castle atop the slope.
