Bruised Foot, Grateful Daughter

Today, I screamed in agony as I dropped something heavy on my foot. Fearing it was broken, my children grabbed the phone to call the emergency number. I cringed as I tried not to yell not to. Thankfully, the toes are just really bruised, but I can walk and I was able to fix dinner for my little foot doctors. Sitting here resting my foot again, my mind wandered to a group who understands my pain. 

"When the Angels Come" by Clark Kelley Price
www.clarkkelleyprice.com

I don't know how they did it.... forced to leave their homes and belongings behind, walking barefoot in the snow for so long their feet were bleeding long before they reached their destination. 

I don't know how they did it.... walking mile after mile each day, never knowing where a safe place was that their enemy would leave them in peace. 

I don't know how they did it.... burying their children along the way, sometimes not even having time or energy to give them a proper funeral, having to leave them only covered by a blanket, knowing the wolves would eat them later on. 

I don't know how they did it.... saying goodbye over and over to their sweethearts so the gospel of Jesus Christ, the message of eternal families, would be shared with strangers in far-off lands.

I wonder if they knew that one day I would stand near a mound of dirt in the Salt Lake Cemetery, listening to the dedication of a grave of one of their own. When he was buried, I could not help but think of them then, too. The land was dedicated so that we, his family, would bring our children and our children's children to that place, to know it was hallowed ground where we stood. We were told to look at the headstones around us to wonder and to ask, "Who was this man?" Then, we would go home and learn about the name of the person buried nearby. I wonder if they were there, greeting my uncle, nodding in agreement as the ground was blessed, guarded by angels, to be protected from destruction of any man. 

Did they know I looked for that plot of land the other day? Do they know I stood there with my son to share my gratitude for they- our grandparents. I wonder if they heard the words I shared with him, that all they went through, all they suffered, was so we could have what we do today: a safe place to live, a right to worship God how we choose, a knowledge of eternal families. "If we do not live up to what they fought for," I told my son, "then all they went through, all they suffered, was for nothing." 

I wonder if they hear me when I cry to them to give me strength to parent on a difficult day, to reach my child who is struggling, to teach me to be patient until I am with my sweetheart again. 

My bruised foot reminds me that someone understands, in ways I can never. Because of them, I am all that I am and have a beautiful life. How grateful, honored, humbled I am to be their daughter. 

Feeling grateful, 

Mama Dragon