Today, it rained in Provo. And when I say rained, I mean poured.
Our poor driveway washed away...well, not all of it,
but much of the gravel washed away to the street below us.
It was a huge mess.
I only realized the extent of the damage once I had packed
all the Little Nies in the car for our neighborhood block party.
As I drove further down the road, I noticed rocks scattered quite
far from our home and on the road.
I dropped the children at the party and drove back to
Fox Hill, where I began shoveling the rocks up.
Mr. Nielson wasn't home to help me, and I felt exhausted after
my 20th small shovel load.
Soon enough, a band of cars drove up my driveway, and out popped
probably 30 men and boys from my neighborhood
(including Matt, my brother, and my favorite Bishop)
all eager to help and willing to do
whatever it took to get the rocks taken care of.
They all left the neighborhood party to come and help me.
I wanted to hug every last one of them!
I learned early on after my accident that I couldn't do it alone.
I needed help, and for a long time, I needed daily help.
It was hard to see others doing things for me and my family
that I was doing months earlier before
the accident happened- and doing so with ease.
Letting others take care of my children, feed me, and clean my house was hard!
Asking for and receiving help helped me not only learn patience,
but mostly how to be genuinely humble- and humble enough to ask for help.
I learned this lesson again tonight.
I am grateful for good men and women with selfless hearts
who bless my life and know how to "succor the weak, lift up the hands
