Thank you, God, for my trials.

A family in our ward has a daughter who has some type of cancer. I first met her at bbq only two months ago. She is in her 20-30's and has lost all of her hair, but wore a wig. She talked to me for a few moments and was especially happy about Fox, and shook his hand. Over the next two months I had heard different things from different people about how she was "going down hill" and wasn't "doing too well."

I talked to her for a few seconds again yesterday. She hardly looked and acted like the same woman. In the short two months, her face had bloated, and turned scaly and red. She acted more like a child and less like a woman. She once again was happy about Fox but wasn't sure how to show that happiness, and had to be led away by her mother. Her mother is heaven sent. A woman who should be happily enjoying her retirement and grandchildren, now is in a place where "there is no peace and quite at my house." She not only has to know that her child is dying, but has to watch as her body and mind slowly deteriorate. I can't even imagine.

Thank you, God, for my trials.

Saturday, we were able to go to Nauvoo. We were able to hear different stories about Joseph Smith, see his home, and have a small taste of his life. Later that day we went to Carthage jail, where Joseph Smith was martyred. The spirit there was overwhelming. I could help but sob for Emma, who had always lived with the knowledge that there was a high probability that her husband would never come home. I also cried for Lucy, who lost three sons within a matter of days.

Thank you, God, for my trials.

I can handle my messy screaming children. I can handle a limited amount of money, even though my husband is always working. I can handle moving some where new. I can even handle the uncertainty.

Thank you, God, for my trials.