Several weeks ago, I was having a day. And feeling very alone. (Not the good kind where you have a few minutes to yourself to read a book or shower or something equally as lovely.) Because I wasn’t actually alone, I had three little people who needed my help and attention. There were a million things to do and places to be. I’m sure it is familiar. Most days I handle it. Not always beautifully, but still, we get through.

Not this day. This day I was ready to wave the white flag. And I may have muttered something about “I can’t be a single mom anymore.” Which is really, really far from the truth and not something my children need to hear me complaining about.

Background: My husband is currently serving as Branch President of our church unit. And while we have been blessed immeasurably, sometimes I just really miss/need him. His schedule is crazy. Full of visits and meetings. Planned or at the drop of a hat. On Sunday he is gone before the kids and I (or the sun, for that matter) are up and only sometimes makes it home for dinner. He works hard and he is tired but he doesn’t complain. I’m so grateful he is willing and worthy to do it.

But this particular day I just needed him. And I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself, inside. And my heart was definitely turning a little hard.

The end of the day found me in the foyer of our church building following a Memorial Service (see, and I’m complaining about a bad day?) surrounded by a few other members of our congregation. Out of the blue, one gentleman put his arm around my shoulder and said, “You’re doing a good job. You’re doing a good job as the branch president’s wife. I know you all sacrifice a lot for him to be able to serve.” I sort of got a lump in my throat. He continued about what a good man my husband is and told me to never forget that.

Then another friend spoke up and said, “I pray for you every day. Every day. And I pray for your children by name.” And it really touched my heart. And suddenly it didn’t feel quite as hard as it had earlier in the day. (But I also thought, lady, that may be the only reason we make it some days!)

And then I talked about Sister Jones, she was standing there too, and how grateful I am for her. She has sat with me nearly every Sacrament meeting for over 4.5 years to help me with the kids. And the lump in my throat started to rise and my eyes were filling up with wet because then I remembered.

I remembered that my Heavenly Father is aware of me. He knows this is not easy for our family. He knows my struggles. And He allows me to have them so that I can stretch and grow. And lean on Him. But also, He blesses me with sweet experiences that remind me that I am not alone.