nothing left unsaid

Last night we were gathered around the dining room table reading scriptures with the girls.  (We are going to do better.)
We spent a few minutes talking about what happened a few weeks ago and how close we came to me leaving our family.  I cried.  And then I talked to them about something I had been thinking about. 

The past few days have been wonderful being home again, because this is just where I want to be.  I'm so glad to be a mom again.  But when I hear the girls being grouchy with each other, it makes me a little sad- even though I know it's normal.  It's just that I know how fast things can change.  Sometimes we don't get a chance to say "I'm sorry".  Sometimes we don't have time to tell someone how much we really do love them.

Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time thinking back over the last few hours before my surgery (I have a lot of time to think right now).  It was a difficult, painful few hours, but the hardest part for me was most definitely watching Courtney.  I was scared, but trying so hard to not act scared because I could see the panic in his eyes.  It broke my heart.  But what I have been so thankful for was those last few minutes before surgery.  The quick, last minute request that I made as they were wheeling me out of the room, when I asked if Courtney could give me one last blessing.  He did- it wasn't long, but it was inspired, and I know it made all the difference- it allowed me to feel the peace I needed and enabled my body to do what it needed to do. We didn't have much time, and we knew it.  At that point, everything was rush, rush.

We only had a few minutes, but it didn't matter.  Everything we wanted to say to each other had already been said.  Not that night, when all was upside down.  But in the minutes, days, and years before.  There were no apologies to be made, no fences to mend.  We knew how we felt about each other.  We knew where we stood.  We voiced the knowledge that regardless of what happened, everything would be the way it should be.  Everything else?  We already knew. 

That's what I wanted the girls to know.  In our family, and in our lives, I hope we can realize that the words we say matter.  Courtney taught the girls last night that the way we live our life is much like gardening.  The things we say, and the way we act, are seeds that will become memories to those we love.  He asked the girls to consider if they are planting sweet memories, the kind they will be proud of.  He compared the ugly, hurtful memories to thistles. 

It was unanimous.  The girls heartily agreed with their dad that they wanted to plant more "watermelon, daisy, and tulip memories", and less thistles. 

It is a lesson I hope to never forget.  As I pondered over what could have been my last few moments with Courtney, I was so grateful that we didn't have to fill the precious little time we had with rushed words that shouldn't have waited.  There was no "weeding" of thistles that needed tending to.  But what about the other people in my life?  What words need to be voiced that I have left unsaid, and what things am I saying that I shouldn't?

It gives me much to think about.  From now on, I hope to take better care of my little garden.