Untitled.

I have a friend who lost her baby when she was 38 weeks pregnant. I met her when I was 36 weeks pregnant. Let's just say those were a long final four weeks while I waited for my baby to arrive safely in my arms. I know another woman who has had a cancer-rain-cloud looming over her for five years. It keeps teasing her--disappearing and reappearing--and now it's back all over again. She has three little boys. Stories like these make me weepy. If I think about them long enough it gets hard to see and to swallow so I have to start thinking about the young James Garner (The old one makes me happy, too). I am so sad for these women, but I also don't know how to put into words my gratitude for what their trials are teaching me. It sounds like such an odd and almost morbid thing to say, but the other night when Scarlett relapsed and woke up every hour, I felt the impatient, over-tired, frustrated Carly creeping up; and for some reason, I thought of my friend who didn't have a baby to wake her up, and I held mine a little longer. Later that day, I didn't want to run. I kept looking at the treadmill thinking, "You can't make me." Then I thought of my friend with cancer who is undergoing unbearable treatments where she is confined to a hospital bed and I thought, "I can run. I can run a marathon." I have no intention of running that far unless being chased, but I could do it if I had to, because my body is healthy and strong. People wonder why God let's bad things happen. I wonder that all the time, but it sure gives those of us who have healthy babies and bodies perspective. I am a much nicer mommy and less worried about my stretch marks because of stories like these. At the same time, though, I don't think perspective should diminish our own problems. My problems, though NOTHING like their problems, are still my problems. They needle me and make my day hard and sometimes they feel so heavy. In comparison, they are light, but they are mine, so they are real. I often look at little kids who are screaming about not getting dessert or losing a toy or something equally tragic, and I think how interesting it is that those problems are their reality. When someone takes their toy away, they feel the same flood of emotion as I do when medical school takes my Jordan away. The only difference is that I have learned not to kick and scream... most days. I guess what I am saying is that we have all felt something similar. I think God let's bad things happen because empathy makes better things happen. I think that's why Heavenly Father asks us to "mourn with those that mourn" (Mosiah 18:19; Romans 12:15). He wants us to learn from each other and take care of each other, to hold our babies longer and run farther, because we can and sometimes we need someone who is suffering to give us perspective.