Heaven is here.

You've all heard the saying that if you saw a pile of everybody else's problems and had to choose which ones you wanted, you'd hurry to pick your own back up, right? 

It's a good reminder that even when you think it can't get any worse, someone close to you is going through something even harder. 

But that doesn't make your own trials any easier, does it? 

I'm pretty much the worst at getting wrapped up in my problems and forgetting about all the wonderful things that are happening right alongside the bad ones. 

There's something about watching someone you love suffer that breaks your heart in a way you can't really explain. There's this incredible feeling of gratitude for getting one more day coupled with this longing for their hurt to stop. It gives a whole new definition to the word "bittersweet."

And in the middle of this chaos of emotion there's an overwhelming sense that you're constantly and completely encircled in the arms of a thousand angels--angels trying to make things easier. Angels supporting the idea that heaven is all around us, that heaven is here.

When I was nine years old, my dad's side of the family decided they were better off without me and my family in their lives. It's a long, confusing, and frankly rather boring story, but ultimately it left me sans one entire side of my extended family. For a long time, this was a huge deal to me. But now, almost 12 years later, I've [more or less] accepted it for what it is, and life has gone on as it always does--with the help of the people in my life. 

As it became more and more apparent that my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins weren't coming around anytime soon, it became a subconscious priority to fill the metaphorical hole in my heart with the people I lived by. 

Lucky for me, that was basically every family in my ward, every leader I had in church, and every family friend we made along the way. 

We moved into a new house when I was in high school, and little miss Mary fell in love with the Frodsham family. 

As Mary's friendship with Bret and Kristi developed from playing in their backyard to motorcycle rides around the neighborhood to finding her their whenever our house got a little too quiet, our families became closer and closer; close enough to title our mismatched group of humans the "Lindsham-Frodberg" family. 

Because family is exactly what they've become. 

Bret and Kristi have filled a hole I forgot I had, and I'm so grateful for the love they show my little sisters. 

Watching Bret these last few months has brought flashbacks of the heartbroken and confused high-schooler I was when my grandma passed away, but it's also strengthened my testimony in a thousand different ways. 

I'm more sure now that the Plan of Salvation is real than I ever have been before. My faith in missionaries and missionary work has increased like I didn't think it could, and I don't just mean missionaries here on Earth. 

But I think the most important thing I've learned is how completely we are surrounded by heaven. 

I feel it the nights we spend reading stories with the Frodsham's. 

I felt it watching my cousins running around making gingerbread houses like we did with my grandma. 

It's in the hugs from past YW leaders in my home ward and the comments my neighbors make on everything I do. 

I read it in the texts from my best friends and emails from my parents. 

I hear it in the late-night talks with Brian and Ashley.

I felt it Christmas morning as the fireplace crackled and we got the most perfect snow storm, right on time. 

I feel it every time I go to, or even see, the temple, open my scriptures, or say a prayer. 

Heaven is so close. It's in every single detail of every second of our lives. Every thoughtful act, every kind word, every person we interact with is a direct influence of the heaven we are surrounded by.

So even though my heart is experiencing a new kind of hurt, it's also this strange sort of happy and full at the same time.

Heaven is here--and for that reason, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.