With bright eyes my two-year-old daughter emerged from the
basement, her arms full of play kitchen accessories. She dropped them on the floor, picked out a
little rolling pin, and waved it in the air with delight.
“Look Mommy! Pink
roller! My pink roller!”
She had found part of her Christmas present. Oh no. How
could I take something away from her that brought her such joy? My eyes brimmed with tears as I took the
rolling pin, scooped up the plastic pots, pans, and spatulas, and ran
downstairs, stashing them in a better hiding spot while she stood completely
confused in the kitchen. When I came
back up, I gave her a hug, told her that she couldn’t have those toys yet, and
tried to console her with an old toy.
Oh I felt like such a mean mom.
But little did she know that I’ve been eagerly scouring the
internet for weeks to find the perfect play kitchen, finally found it, have it
hidden away, and I can’t wait to give it to her. I have so much more in store for her than a
little pink rolling pin! My heart broke
as I realized that she doesn’t know that.
She is unaware of all the ungiven gifts that await her…
As we are unaware of all the ungiven gifts that await us.
Last week I felt a little like my toddler standing so
confused in the kitchen. A couple of
months ago, I accepted an opportunity to go back part-time as a writer for the
public relations firm I’d worked at before Abbey was born. I would have to wait a couple of months for
some work issues to be settled, but I was thrilled with the chance to use my
skills and have more adult interaction. It seemed like just what I needed. Well, suddenly in the midst of settling those
issues, the company closed. I felt like
someone had stolen my little pink rolling pin!
But now I realize that there are ungiven gifts that await
me. There’s something better in store.
I’ve been thinking about that little play kitchen and
wondering if I did the right thing. What
if, instead of taking away the accessories, I had led her to the main Christmas
gift right then and there? The timing wouldn't have been right.
My then future husband was 29 when we happened to sit next
to each other at a church fireside. I said hello and asked for his name and he
asked for my number. Over the next year,
we fell in love and were married. In our
LDS culture, most people marry in their early twenties, not their early
thirties, and I'm sure my husband had wondered what was wrong with him. Nothing was wrong with him---it was me. I hadn't grown up yet. On that spring evening we sat next to each
other, I was only 19. Now, almost eight
years later, it's clear to see that the Lord arranged to give us the gift of
each other as potential spouses as soon as He possibly could--as soon as I was
ready.
Later, we struggled for three years to have a baby. Finally
after some fertility treatments and thirty-six negative pregnancy tests, we
conceived. Again, the Lord arranged to
give us a beautiful gift just as soon as He possibly could. Those three years
were so hard for me, but now I realize that we needed that time of being a
family of two to strengthen our relationship and prepare for what would follow the
birth of our little sweetheart--my postpartum depression and the onset of my
bipolar disorder.
As bright as my daughter’s eyes were at the thought of
having her very own rolling pin, I can’t wait to show her that there’s so much
more, and that with disappointment and loss comes hope. I truly believe the Lord has countless
ungiven gifts awaiting each of us and He enthusiastically waits for just the
right moment to grant them in a way so that our eyes will light up just like a
child’s on Christmas morning.
