Is the crust really the best part?

I just finished reading Same Kind of Different as Me - by Ron Hall & Denver Moore. On the cover it says, "A modern-day slave, an international art dealer and the unlikely woman who bound them together."

One of the volunteers that I work with recommended it to me last year and I've just now had the courage to read it. This volunteer is an amazing woman who lost her 4 year old son to leukemia six years ago. Amidst their pain, they brought together a community of supporters and have been instrumental in raising tens of thousands of dollars that have gone to research and patient services. They've also started their own family foundation that gives financial support to families in their community who have children who are fighting cancer.

I wanted to share a paragraph that is echoing in the empty halls of my heart these past few days.

From Denver's words, "I know when somebody you love is gone, that's the last time you feel like thanking God. But sometimes we has to be thankful for the things that hurt us cause sometimes God does things that hurts us but they helps somebody else (p. 211)."

Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught, "Irony is the hard crust on the bread of adversity" (Ensign, May 1989). I feel like I've been carbo-loading for the past two years and I'm stuffed.

You would think that when someone says, "You have been an answer to my prayers" that I would feel like the personification of a miracle, empowered, humbled, awed, overwhelmed and grateful for being an instrument in the Lord's Hand in bringing respite and relief to one or more of His children in need. Most of the time, I do.

But sometimes, I don't.

In fact, there have been times that I've said in my heart, "I'm glad your prayers were answered, but what about mine?" You would think that I would love to receive this ultimate compliment to me and my humble and spiritually discerning self (please hear my sarcasm).

If I'm 100% honest about how I feel in my heart, sometimes being the answer to someone's prayer is hard. How ironic is that? I give and in return there's pain.

Welcome to the Savior's life, Tracy.

In a similar vein, Elder Maxwell also cautioned not to wait around the altar of sacrifice for a receipt from the Lord. I guess the Lord won't overlook my constant loitering any longer so maybe I should take one last look at what's there and let it go.

Like Denver said, "sometimes God does things that hurts us but they helps somebody else." He goes on to say, "If you want to know the truth about it, nothin ever really ends but begins somewhere else where we can't hear it or see it or feel it."

Walking away - walking away - looking back - walking away - walking away.