"But tonight, You are mine"

I'm in love.

I've always enjoyed lullaby-type Christmas carols and songs about Mary, the mother of Jesus. I have several favorites, including "Mary's Lullaby" from the Primary Children's Songbook and "Mary, Did You Know?" by Buddy Greene.

I heard a new one last Sunday at our stake (regional church group) Music of Christmas concert. It's called "Mary's Lullaby (Tonight You Are Mine)," by Bertha A. Kleinman and Wanda West Palmer. The vocalist sang with great feeling, and the lyrics touched me deeply.

The mortal birth and death of Jesus Christ were predicted by prophets for centuries. We just read a beautiful description by King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon in our family scripture study:

And lo, he shall suffer temptations, and pain of body, hunger, thirst, and fatigue, even more than man can suffer, except it be unto death; for behold, blood cometh from every pore, so great shall be his anguish for the wickedness and the abominations of his people.

And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning; and his mother shall be called Mary.

And lo, he cometh unto his own, that salvation might come unto the children of men even through faith on his name; and even after all this they shall consider him a man, and say that he hath a devil, and shall scourge him, and shall crucify him.

Mosiah 3:7-9

Mary would have been taught the prophecies about the Messiah. Surely, she had at least a small glimmer of understanding that the holy child she was chosen to bear was destined to go through unimaginable suffering and pain, not because He deserved it in any way, but because He volunteered before the Earth was formed to perform an atonement for the sins of us imperfect beings. To save us.

I imagine Mary knew this intellectually. But surely, it became incredibly and heartbreakingly more real when Jesus was born. When I think of my own little son and how precious he is to me, and consider how Mary must have felt about Jesus, my respect and admiration for her absolutely explode. She was truly an elect woman.

Back to the song I heard last week. It's written as if Mary were speaking to, or perhaps praying over, Jesus. This is the verse that touched me so deeply (plus the chorus):

Away, spectered future of sorrow and plight.

Away to the years that must follow tonight.

The pangs of Gethsemane, let them be dim;

The red drops on Calvary, not, Lord, for him!

Oh, let me enfold thee, my baby, tonight;

While legions are singing in joyous delight.

A new star has risen to hail thee divine,

For you are a king, but tonight you are mine.

Isn't that powerful? Sometimes we just have to take life one day at a time, and that's what Mary is choosing to do in this lullaby. She knows exactly Whom she's holding in her arms, and she's choosing to enjoy every minute she has with Him.

I'm reminded of my own (sometimes) sleepless nights with Will, holding him and rocking him to sleep. It's tiring for sure, but there's also a sweetness in those early morning hours with a baby in my arms. My baby. A gift and a great responsibility, straight from God.

It's a special time of year to have a new baby boy.

To Will

I thought I was happy when we were just two,

But then we found out we were going to have you!

We had prayed for a child, according to God's will;

With each passing day, we grew more excited still.

The day you were born, suddenly we were three.

As we held you, we knew it was all meant to be.

My indomitable dad

It was Tuesday, May 26, 2020. Clayton and I had plans to babysit our toddler nephew Archer while his parents went to the gender reveal ultrasound of their next baby.

As we were getting ready to go, I got a text from my sister Melanie, informing me that our dad had been in an accident earlier that day and that our brother Graig, his wife, and a close friend were missing. (They went camping for Memorial Day weekend and weren't answering their phones for a while. Within hours, we figured out they weren't actually missing and everything was okay.)

It was a shock. Initially, I was more worried about Graig. I knew my mom and Aunt Connie were with my dad in the hospital, and that was a big comfort. I felt peace and knew he would be okay.

Looking back, maybe that's why I was surprised when he ended up losing his left leg. When I received the impression that everything would be okay, I think I assumed that life would go back to exactly the way it was before.

I knew from the text updates I was getting from Aunt Connie that Dad's accident was serious. In that initial emergency surgery, he lost all the blood in his body at least twice. But I didn't really understand how serious his injuries really were until I saw him on the hospital grounds.

Due to COVID-19 restrictions, he was only allowed two visitors (who were Mom and Aunt Connie), so we didn't get to see him for weeks. Because we didn't get to see him for a while, I was somewhat insulated from the severity of his pain and the challenges he faced while recovering (like MRSA). It enabled me to pretend that he wasn't as badly hurt as he was.

When I finally did see him on June 12, I was a little shocked at how pale and thin he looked. His skin was tissue paper soft.

Still, I held out hope that Dad would make a complete recovery. He was my dad, after all. Invincible. Indomitable.

It was another shock when my mom called later that day to say she and Dad were seriously considering amputation. Clayton and I were on our way to a peaceful, remote reservoir for an overnight camping trip. My first reaction was, "What? But everything was supposed to be okay!"

My next thoughts were, "Mom says she and Dad have prayed about this and they feel it's the right decision. I trust them. I'll support them."

As I had those thoughts that night in the campground, I again felt peace wash over me. And I realized that even though our lives--especially my parents'--weren't ever going to be the same as before Dad's accident, everything would still be okay.

My dad may not be invincible physically. But he is indomitable. His reaction to becoming an amputee, and his frank forgiveness of the driver who hit him, continue to amaze and inspire me. And I'm not alone; I'm positive that he inspires many other people too. As does my mom, who has shown incredible faith and resilience throughout this entire trial. I'm a lucky daughter.

"You don't have to give them back"

Clayton was ready to start having children right from the beginning of our marriage. Ironically, I thought I would be ready... until the time actually came. Then, suddenly, I could think of all sorts of reasons to wait. The biggest thing that held me back was fear. Fear of pregnancy, of childbirth, and of child-raising. I felt so inadequate.

Heavenly Father had the perfect plan for me, though. My first assignment in our new church congregation in Orem was to teach the three-year-olds on Sunday with Clayton, and we had a darling group of kids. The following year I was asked to move up with my class, and I spent the next two years teaching adorable, excitable four-year-olds.

I enjoyed teaching the kids, but it was always a bit of a relief when their parents came to pick them up.

At the same time, I was experiencing the aunt life. When we first got married, Clayton had two nieces and four nephews -- a recipe for "instant aunt." Two of those nephews lived close by. They're darling but super energetic, and as a result, family dinners were usually lively and fun, but super tiring at the same time.

Again, I enjoyed playing with our nephews, but I left most of the running to Clayton and it was always a bit of a relief to go home to our quiet apartment. I often thought how nice it was to be able to give our nephews back after a while.

Long story short, my short, regular interactions with these cute groups of kids gradually helped me overcome my fears and take the leap of faith required to start trying to get pregnant.

Fast forward to this year. Clayton and I had just moved to Reno in November 2020. The sister missionaries were at our house for dinner one night and we got to talking about kids. (I was very pregnant at the time.) One of the sisters had nieces and nephews, and recited something her sister had told her about being a mom: "The best part is, you don't have to give them back."

That phrase really hit me. It touched on one of my lingering fears about having a child -- that Clayton and I wouldn't be able to give him back to his parents when we were tired or when he got fussy because we would be his parents. I didn't know how to address that fear other than to trust that God knew what He was doing, and that He would help me through the hard times.

But now Will is here. And I'm beginning to understand why not having to give them back is a good thing. Just look at that face. You wouldn't want to give that back, either!

Of course, there have already been times when I've wanted a break. Clayton is really good about spotting me in those times -- changing a diaper or bottle feeding Will so I can nap, or taking a turn holding Will when he's fussy. Also, grandparents are angels straight from heaven.

When I see Will smile, though, it's all worth it.