thank you sisters

This post has been on my mind for at least a month. I have been writing it, and re-writing it in my head when I shower, when I walk, when I am driving in the car... Over and over and over. How do you express your heart felt thanks? How do you tell someone how much you appreciate their thoughtfulness? How do you ever begin to repay someone who has so easily and freely offered a service on your behalf. I feel so grateful. So full. So loved.

I like to be the one who hears, "thank you," from others. My kids thank me multiple times a day. I serve them constantly and I like it that way. That is who I am. I serve my husband and my family my friends and my neighbors. Not all the time, I'm just saying, I like to be the one who is doing the service.

Lately I have been more on the receiving end. It's a humbling place to be. I have thought a lot about the words "thank you." Are they enough? When I say them does the person I am speaking too actually understand how I feel? Do those words really express my heart felt gratitude?
Not really, right.
I don't know for sure but my heart is grateful.

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for my sisters. The women around me who see a need and fill it. The women who aren't even my good friends, but who are just other women who get it. Who have been there and who have the innate gift to give.

My mom, my sister, my grandmas and aunts, of course. My friends, yes. They have all helped me more lately than ever before. Folding laundry, bringing meals, watching kids, listening.... They are wonderful and I am not undermining them whatsoever. The visits, phone calls, prayers, emails and texts have all buoyed me up and I am so grateful for all of them.

But then there were the others. The other women.

There was the mom of the girl in Braxton's class who brought me dinner and homemade cookie dough when I had Gage. We know each other from dropping off our kids at the same school. That's it. She doesn't really know anything other than that and the only reason she knows where I live is because she drives by as we are walking to school and we wave.

There was the friend, of a friend, who I haven't seen or talked too for a good 3 years who called me the week before I went into labor and during our phone conversation said a prayer for me and asked God to bless my baby's delivery.

There was my dear midwife who delivered Adelle and Emmett and who saw me throughout my whole pregnancy with Gage and then was out of town during his delivery. (I knew this would be the case going into it by the way). The woman is in Europe for 3 weeks backpacking with her son and husband and on my darkest day after Gage was born she calls me, all the way from across the ocean, because she couldn't get me off of her mind. What? Just called to see how things were going.

There was the package we received from my brothers new mother in-law with the homemade gift for Gage.

There was Mary, a woman I had never even met, who was at my bedside during Gage's delivery holding my hand and offering encouraging words. Honest, a complete stranger who is interning to be a doula, in my room talking me through my labor. I can still see her face when I close my eyes. She came by the other day just to see how Gage and I were doing. I don't even know her last name.

Then there was the message I received on my phone a couple Sunday's ago. It was from someone who had never called me before. Never been to my house. Never gone on a play date with me. Never even really had a conversation with. We know each other very casually. This person takes her son to the same preschool my sister takes her son too. She had talked to my sister, heard I had had my baby, heard about the complications and called to say that she was bringing me something. That night she showed up on my doorstep with food, for me. Not for the family, just for me. Quinoa, apple and walnut salad, Cesar salad with homemade dressing.. Then she told me something like, "this is all for you. You need to take care of yourself and I know as a mom that is a hard thing to do."

These women all get it. They get me. We are all the same, really.

I don't know how to really thank these people. These women. These daughters of God who know who they are and why they are here.  Who know what it is like to think outside of themselves. I am so grateful. So proud to be one of these sisters. To be blessed with the divine quality of being a nurturer.

I want to be the woman who serves those who she doesn't even know. Who notices life outside of herself and acts on it. Who offers charity because she gets it.

I want to be the woman who changes someone else's life, for the good, because she noticed her.

Thank you sisters.

"We must cherish one another, watch over one another, comfort one another and gain instruction, that we may all sit down in heaven together." Lucy Mack Smith (Joseph Smith's mother).