Three

Our little girl turned three yesterday. I distinctly remember some of my thoughts and fears when I was pregnant with her. I remember being comfortable with the thought of being a mother to an infant, but couldn't fathom the idea that eventually she would be 2 or 3, or heaven forbid, 5! That scared me to death. I just hoped that by the time she was had reached those ages, I would have learned enough to have some idea of what to do with her. That plan has worked out pretty well so far. I still don't know how on earth to be the mother of a five year old, but we survived the twos and I think I can handle the threes. Each year truly gets better as I come to understand and love her more, so I'm exited to see what the next year of her life will bring.

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I'm grateful today for the chance I have to serve our daughter. It certainly would be an easier lifestyle to not have children. Scott and I would have more freedom to do and go where we want. We wouldn't have had to deal with sleepless nights, diapers, whining, extra laundry, tantrums, etc. But I wouldn't trade her for an easier life. I wouldn't trade the early mornings, the endless hours spent coloring, or the meals made for her. Serving her brings me joy. I feel a deep sense of purpose to my life. As I serve her, my love for her grows and I slowly become a less selfish person. Some days are very monotonous and feel like drudgery, but I am thankful for the chance that being a mother has given me to grow as a person.

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This is one of my favorite quotes:

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"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coifed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking the kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

-Marjorie Pay Hinckley