Worry Dolls

Dave and I spent most of the afternoon on Sunday watching the LDS videos on the new website, and I was just bawling the whole time. All of the stories they shared were so powerful and amazing. A man who lost his pregnant wife and two of his four children in an accident caused by a drunk teenager, and how he was able to immediately forgive this boy--even moments after the crash. A woman and her husband who were in a plane crash and severely burned, but survived and live every day in pain and in bodies that are marked by ugly scars and faces that make people stare...so different from their once attractive shells. And how strong they both are and live their lives very happily with their 4 children, showing gratitude to their Heavenly Father for their many blessings.

I just couldn't help watching them and feeling so incredibly selfish about my own life. How my biggest problem in my life is the fact that I can never seem to catch up on my house cleaning. And how I can sit and cry about the fact that Dave has to leave on a trip and I have to be home alone for a week. How I complain that I don't have the money to buy the clothes I want. How I don't get to travel and vacation like other people do. It's so humbling then to watch a video about a boy in the Dominican Republic who was abandoned by his parents and taken into an orphanage, and who never had toys to play with. He always wanted a ball and never had one until the church brought some supplies and toys for the children of the orphanage. And how his happiness could hardly be measured for that simple ball.

Here I am, with a wonderful Husband and a baby on the way. I have a wonderful family. I live in a free country with so many opportunities and luxuries. I have a good job. I have a solid belief in a religion. I have a nice apartment with running water and all the amenities we need. I have never really had to deal with a tragedy in my life. And I guess I start to worry when I realize how good I have it. Because those are the times that tragedy always hits, in my eyes. I do worry about that-all the time. Somehow losing my husband and having to be alone with our new baby, or even the thought of something happening to me and leaving Dave alone to deal with losing his pregnant wife and child. Or losing a member of my family. Or getting in some type of accident and losing the ability to walk or move. Or losing my baby. And I can't imagine how much I'm going to worry as a Mom, when I already worry so much as it is.

My Mom would always tell me that I worried too much when I was younger, too. I worried that a tornado would hit. That a volcano would erupt. That I would be the victim of a crime. That I would embarrass myself. That I would break a bone.

After awhile, Mom brought me home a gift from New Mexico to help with my worries. They're called, "worry dolls", and this is the message they came with:

"There is a legend amongst the highland indian village of Guatemala. If you have a problem, then share it with a Worry-doll. Before going to bed, tell one worry to each doll, then place them beneath your pillow. When you sleep the dolls will take your worries away."

I keep my little box of worry dolls near my bed still, and it's a treasure to me. It makes me think of Mom, reminding me not to worry so much and not to live in fear. That life is good, and no matter what comes along, I would be able to handle it with Heavenly Father's help. At least, I know that Mom would be able to handle anything, and I try to be as strong as she is.