Heritage

I awake in the middle of the night to feed my baby daughter. These 3 am feedings can be harsh on a tired mommy. As I feed my sweet Ella I turn on my iPod to stay awake, and I read family letters from my parents - old letters from their law school days when I was just a baby, and emails sent today from across the world in Siberia.

I can't put these old letters down, identifying with my parents as they happily struggle through school with a young family, raising little ones, couponing, serving in the Church, facing the future with faith, relying on each other, Dad studying away while Mom took care of everyone. Food on the table, house cleaned, children taught, husband happy. Can I be a wife and mother as she was? We are in their shoes. I can't stop the smiles as I realize that I, once that chubby little girl with cereal on her head who wouldn't say a word, am now the mother - feeding, teaching, raising, quizzing my husband before exams, shopping on a tight budget, taking care of it all. I wonder if I can do it all as well as she did. 

And I read their letters now - devour them, really - blinking back my tears as they step out of their comfortable world, out of the life they have always known, into the vast and cold land of Siberia, to serve the Russian people - preaching amazing sermons in halting Russian, visiting tiny congregations in ancient Russian cities, sleeping on Arctic trains, bringing the Gospel to sweet people in old Soviet apartment buildings, bidding farewell to tiny congregations of Saints who, with tears in their eyes, thank them for coming and visiting them in distant cities. Teaching, serving, building, testifying, parenting and grandparenting from afar, doing the work of our Savior across many miles of Siberia, sharing His love and His message and His work.

I now run to my son's bedside as he awakes from a nightmare with a fright. I hold him and utter a quick prayer to put his mind at ease. My tiny baby daughter sleeps in her bassinet at my bedside, full and content. My husband in the bed next to me sleeps, probably dreaming of optometric terminology in anticipation of his exam tomorrow. As I am about to close my eyes for some much-needed sleep, I at once feel gratitude for my blessings, for the examples of my noble parents, and for this season of life I am in just as they once were, despite all the sleepless nights, long days, tiny bank accounts, dishes and laundry piled high, children needing me every moment. 

Life is wonderful. And I am grateful.