Perfectly flawed

A waterbearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole, which she carried across her neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it. While the other pot was perfect, and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the mistress's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to her master's house.

The perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream: "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."

Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your mistress's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in her compassion she said, "As we return to the mistress's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some.

But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?

“That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them.

“For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my mistress's table. Without you being just the way you are, she would not have this beauty to grace her house."

Moral: One person might feel proud of their situation, and look upon yours as it is flawed. You might even feel yourself as flawed. We all are flawed pots. Whether the flaw is to have cracks, or not have cracks. It is what we do with our ability that makes the difference.

I don't look at my situation and think I have a lot of misfortunes as others might. I feel a purpose, I find the blessings every day. There always are blessings to be seen. And I share my flaws openly, not to complain. But to let others who may struggle more emotionally in their life that they are not alone.

I also share my triumphs and joys. But if that is all I was willing to share about my life, then I wouldn't consider myself being a good steward with those blessings. Some of them come after trials or losses. And the gratitude I have for my life is to give thanks for it all.

What a pain

Last weekend, I woke up Friday morning with the worst headache I had ever felt. Sharp pain in the base of my skull/ neck, down my entire spine. And nerve pain radiating down both legs. I was just a day over the "watch for symptoms week" after having a spinal injection in my back. I worried a little, looked up meningitis symptoms, then thought maybe I was just getting a weird sickness, since I didn't have a fever.

So I put it out of my mind to focus on Easter weekend with the kids. Easter Bunny visits on Saturday, and I woke up that morning to excited kids in a sugar rush...and a fever for me.

By Sunday morning, we weren't happily getting ready to go to church and feel the spirit of the resurrected Christ. Instead, I was on my way to the ER with a 102 fever.

Some blood work, a CT without contrast of my brain, and a chest X-ray showed all normal results. Except a depleted white cell count. So I had to have a spinal tap (awful experience!) which showed a trace of bacterial infection, but not meningitis. A bag of antibiotics later, I was sent home to mend.

James had just dropped me off and was taking care of 4 kids at home. So he came back to get me. The gas tank was empty, but he was hoping we would make it.

We did. Sort of. The car started to shut things down and we were coasting through the intersection. James barely rolled into the gas station parking lot! Luckily, there was a kind police officer to came to help push us up to a pump, and seeing his example then two other guys felt inclined to help too.

Meanwhile I was sitting in the front seat feeling like death. I had never felt so awful, I was kind of scared. I mean, they did just pierce a hole in my spinal cord! One of the men had asked if I was ok, James informed them we just left the hospital, and I proceeded to throw up in the little blue souvenir bag they gave me. So lovely.

By the time we got home, I was in excruciating pain and wanted to lay down. Every time I would sit up, my head was in worse pain than before I went to the hospital. After reading some of the paper work i learned I now had a spinal headache.

So Monday we went back to the ER. They tried a few tricks of helping the pain, but finally resorted to doing a blood patch. I thought the spinal tap was awful, I was wrong! This is where they took a catheter into position in my spine where they had done the spinal tap, then took a vial of blood out of my arm and immediately injected it into my spinal cord. Sheer pain from my tailbone to my skull! After about an hour, my headache eased up, and they tried to get my blood pressure to perk up enough to help me make it home.

But it wasn't for long. Because it was another injection into the spine, the blood helped patch the leak caused by the spinal tap. But it likely caused another leak, and the excruciating pain returned. So Thursday we went back. For the third time.

This time they kept me overnight to monitor me. They said a second blood patch should fix it. But I was less than inclined to have another needle poked in my back. Ever. Instead, I had my bishop and the Elders come by and give me an anointing and a blessing of healing.

The pain was manageable with medicine after that, so I was sent home with instruction to lay horizontal as much as possible and give it a week.

It has been a rough year for us with many trials. But we have had amazing warriors helping us through it. Between the friends who came into my home and cleaned it, who gave me a ride home from the hospital, who fed my family, James's mother mowing our lawn...we have been greatly blessed and sustained through this trial. How can I have any other opinion than that we will be ok through it all?

Boy Scouts

Kellan is finally at that age where all things boy scouts fill his little mind. I was so happy when he said he couldn't wait to join scouts. But because we preferred him to join our church's troop, he did have to wait. 2 extra years. Which, to a little boy DYING to be involved is an eternity! The Boy Scouts of America start at 6 for tiger scouts, but our church didn't adopt the tiger program. They start with bobcats. But they also combined the scouting program with activities days for boys 8-11, so our church boys are 2 years older when they start scouts.

We contemplated letting Kellan join another local troop when they came around to the elementary school. He was dealing with a lot of anxiety and we felt like he needed something individual to feel involvement with. But with James out of work, it limited our choices so we decided on scouts. Then, in talking with some of our ward scout leaders, they invited Kellan into the troop because he was old enough to be a bobcat in their program. He was over the moon! If I let him, he would have slept in his scout shirt. I was so relieved to see my little boy stress a little less about his life and enjoy himself again.

I was surprised to find controversy after being in the program for almost 6 months. An email came from one of the leaders, because a parent complained about "fairness" of her child having to wait until he was 8. Kellan wasn't earning any of the achievements for the boys who were already 8. He was only accomplishing tasks based on the BSoA outline, no unreasonable exception was made on his behalf. It was petty. He was heartbroken to learn that the feelings of a parent may take president over the feelings of a little boy, and that he might have to miss scouts for 2 months until his birthday. But we challenged the discussion by pointing out in the handbook it replaced activity day boys but did not have to restrict the age of scouts if the individual scout leader was accepting of the age set by the BSoA. Kellan was allowed to stay. (just not earn any awards. Despite that he was old enough. Oh well. It was a small victory we were happy with.)

So the day for the pinewood derby arrived, he was so happy to be included in it and talked about his car for days before he started on it! The idea and method were all his own ideas, with help from his dad for the initial cutting of it. I was so proud of him for how satisfied he was with his work.

Of course every little boy wants to win first place. We didn't search the Internet for secrets and tips to maximize that, we wanted his first experience to be genuine to his own achievement and level. And now he has some ideas on how to improve on it for next year! He was thrilled to win against a couple of the boys, and humble to lose too.

He watched the score board keep track of the racers as it narrowed down, getting so excited to see who would win. A couple rematches ensued, lots of cheering for their friends. He loved it thoroughly.

Until he saw a boy who came in second place not get the award. It was mistakingly given to another boy, who's parents watched every detail of the race, knew their son had lost ( you could tell they were disappointed.) but when their son was given the award mistakingly, they said nothing. This was not lost on Kellan, and he was quite sad for the little boy who didn't get the award. The irony of "following rules" and trying to keep Kellan out of the program, but accepting an award for their son that he did not earn was not lost on us.

He congratulated both boys anyway, and was an amazing sport about the whole situation. It wasn't his place or award to make a fuss about.

He painted flames on his car, and the number 88 after Earnhart Jr's car. So he was given an award for "most realistic." And his mock drivers license went right into his wallet.

This is the stuff that makes life worth it. The smile that was glued to his face for days afterward makes me look forward happily to many more boy filled events and activities. He's a pretty cool kid. When asked about his car, he said "My dad gave me lots of good tips. It was awesome." He's so right.