Tears...

I think I must be a crier. I am easily brought to tears in prayer, bearing testimony, hearing testimony, listening and watching children, hearing music, or any other time when I am still and brought to a realization of My God and his tender mercies in my life. I often feel like the Nephites after their witness of Heavens help "their hearts were swollen with joy, unto the gushing out of many tears, because of the great goodness of God in delivering them out of the hands of their enemies; and they knew it was because of their repentance and their humility that they had been delivered from an everlasting destruction." (3Nephi 4:33) It was only recently I read that among the obvious powerful gifts of the spirit is a simple gift of being able to weep. (Elder Marvin J. Ashton "There Are Many Gifts")

Very rarely in my life do I shed tears of sadness or frustration. Yesterday I had such an occasion...

I had just run to the bathroom when seconds later my little Kamorah came towards my direction with a plastic bag. I soon noticed it was medicine and that she had some remnants of the coding on her face. After quickly examining the bag I was in distress. I had no idea what medicine it was nor how many she could've taken. I got terribly concerned. Tragic thoughts spilled into my mind as I strategized what to do. I called my husband (trying not to freak out on him as I knew he was responsible for the medicine being left in a children accessible location). Indeed he had just cleaned out a bag of old IBUprofen from his car. At least I knew what it was.

A personal encounter my dad had with a child dying due to accidental overdose kept replaying in my mind. I tried gagging Kamorah to throw up into the sink, my tears gushing now. And with repeated efforts in plunging my hand down her throat she wouldn't throw up, and even occassionally would laugh at me, thinking I must be playing a game. Please Kamorah, just throw it up!

I looked down at Adelaide who had been lovingly stroking my leg and I sensed a calm feeling, a reassurance of the spirit saying "she's going to be fine". It slowed me in my panic, but unfortunately, I ignored it at first. "Don't worry, she only sucked on them" I heard in my mind...but too worried, too untrusting of "feelings", I didn't listen. I didn't think she could've had more than a few since she was literally only apart form me for a few seconds, but how could I know for sure? I was doubting and questioning. I tried to see if she would be tempted for another one and she strongly pushed me away. I called poison control who confirmed the peaceful promptings, saying IBUprofen was one of the safest drugs and that a child her size would've had to consume more than 13 to go to the hospital. Spencer said there were not even that many in the bag to begin with. I finally gave in. She would be okay. I let the peace and comfort in. I was so relieved. I just held my little Morzy, and began to cry again. This time the other tears. The tears when you realize you've been given a gift from Heaven. Tears when you're reminded of what really matters. That each day is precious, each child a miracle, each moment something to be grateful for. The tears of a heart swollen with joy.

:)