Christmas

I feel like I missed Christmas last year.  I know it happened.  I have pictures.  I have a calendar that says it happened, but I feel like we skipped it.  We only bought gifts for our kids...that is sort of a requirement.  I should probably clarify that Jason bought presents for the kids.  We didn't worry about anyone else.  Jason was a little concerned about it, but I wasn't (he is nicer than I am).  I figured if someone was mad because we didn't buy them a gift that would reveal a lot about our relationship.  Nobody got mad (that I know of).

This holiday season has been much different for me.  I am not missing it this year.  I feel like part of me is alive again.  I look forward to all of the traditions we do together as a family.  I have enjoyed shopping and seeing lights and making gingerbread houses. It is so refreshing to feel that again.  I feel a difference in my attitude towards the Savior.  I think that I always tried to focus on Christ this time of year.  I was constantly frustrated that we had to have relief society activities and books written about how to keep Christ in Christmas.  It seems that we have really gotten ourselves into a mess when that has to be the topic of anything...it is such a given and so unfortunate that it has become a challenge.  I'm not trying to act holier than thou when I say that...it is just so sad that our culture has necessitated that kind of dialogue at all.  So this isn't the first year where I felt that a visit to Santa was completely optional and not at all necessary for a complete December.  It isn't the first year where I've grown tired of hearing about Rudolph instead of Mary and Joseph.  But the birth of the Savior feels more personal to me now...for so many reasons....so many that I could never articulate or do justice to and some that are just too personal.  But, hopefully I can convey one thought about it.

We so desperately need a Savior.  Until He was born the entire human race was in "free fall..." as Jeffrey R. Holland said.  He states:

"What a plight! The entire human race in free fall—every man, woman, and child in it physically tumbling toward permanent death, spiritually plunging toward eternal anguish. Is that what life was meant to be? Is this the grand finale of the human experience? Are we all just hanging in a cold canyon somewhere in an indifferent universe, each of us searching for a toehold, each of us seeking for something to grip—with nothing but the feeling of sand sliding under our fingers, nothing to save us, nothing to hold on to, much less anything to hold on to us? Is our only purpose in life an empty existential exercise—simply to leap as high as we can, hang on for our prescribed three score years and ten, then fail and fall, and keep falling forever?  The answer to those questions is an unequivocal and eternal no!"  Where Justice, Love, and Mercy Meet

I think I sense more than ever the need I personally have for a Savior.  I have felt that need for most of my life, but it feel a little more precarious now.  I have a son in heaven.  He will certainly inherit celestial glory.  If I do not, somehow, get better than I am, I will never be with him.  I have a lot of shortcomings that need improving and feel pretty incapable of doing this.  I need someone to help me become something different than what I am now.  I need a power far greater than my own.  Without a Savior, there would be no hope for me.  Without a Savior, Eli's sweet little body that grew inside of me...that was so alive... would sleep forever in his tiny grave.  I can't really handle the thought of that...and, thankfully,  I don't have to because I know he won't sleep forever.  I need to know that he will be brought forth and his spirit and his body will be reunited again never to be separated.  I think this feels more personal to me because Eli's body was connected to me almost the entire time he was alive. He was part of me.  He is still part of me.  I am very protective of his mortal tabernacle.  He is my child.  I was partner in creation as I helped to form his body.  I am not okay with the situation right now.  I can only survive because I know this isn't a permanent situation.  The maternal instinct in me has never been so heightened.  I need someone to fix this.  Only my Savior can.  He has paid the price so that I can be reunited with my son.  He has paid the price so that I can change and be better through a power that is far greater than my own.  It is very personal now.  And without His birth into mortality, none of this would be possible.  I would be in despair.  So, Christmas feels different to me now.  His birth means something different to me now.  It isn't a nice story about a mother who had to ride/walk almost 100 miles while she was nine months pregnant only to give birth to the very Son of God in a stable filled with animals and who knows what else.... it isn't about some sleepy shepherds on a hill that were unexpectedly visited by angels telling of one of the greatest moments the earth had ever and will ever see.  His birth matters so much because of what Christ came to do and the sacrifices made by his earthly mother and father so He could do it.  Because I feel how personally and desperately I need Him, I rejoice, as did the angels, when I think about His birth.  I rejoice in the King of Kings that came to save us from death and sin and from mortality.  These truly are glad tidings of great joy.  I am happy that I am not missing Christmas this year. 

Me and Jason were lucky enough to attend the Millennial Choirs and Orchestras concert, Rejoice, last week.  It was one of the highlights of this holiday season.  Truly amazing!  My beautiful and dear friend, Kelly, sang in the performance.  They sang one of my favorite Christmas songs: O Come, O Come Emmanuel.  I feel this song captures the desperate need we have for a Savior.  His birth was a truly a time for rejoicing.  Listening to this song in person was so powerful and emotional.  The conductor gave an explanation of this particular arrangement (which I wish I could remember and regurgitate because it helped me understand and appreciate the performance so much more).  It's quite a long song and so much better in person, but this is better than nothing.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel-Millennial Choirs and Orchestras

I also really like this version of the same song by Vocal Point.  It is much shorter and has a very different feel:

O Come, O Come Emmanuel- Vocal Point

Candlelight Vigil

Every year, on December 6th, there is a candlelight vigil held at the cemetery in honor of the children who have passed away.  We went last year.  This was our second year.  It has been a good experience for our family and is was interesting to note the difference I felt within myself from last year to this year.

Last year, it had only been a month since Eli had died.  His grave was very fresh.  I had never been to a candlelight vigil before.  I saw them on tv, but never attended one, so I wasn't sure if it would be healing or weird or something in between.  Each year they have a short speaker; someone who has lost a child and their experiences, insights and encouragement.  So far, both years a parent has talked about a child who died at a much older age, but the the emotions resonated so easily with me.  They also have a musical number.

Last year, I don't remember looking around very much.  I was in my own world and sort of wondering what I was doing at a "function" like this...wishing I didn't have to be here in a lot of ways. I remember we saw a couple that we had met at the cemetery at Thanksgiving.  They were kind and compassionate and reached out to us.  The mother had seemed very sorrowful...almost distraught the first time we met.  Her demeanor was less weighed down at the vigil, but there was still something heavy and forlorn about her.  It had been nearly 5 years since the loss of their little one and it scared me that she was still so filled with grief.  (Of course, I was only seeing a snapshot of her, but still...it scared me).  Me and Jason talked about them...about how I didn't want to be like "that..."  When we saw them again this year, her look seemed more familiar to me.  I understand her better now.  I understand in some ways how changed she is.   I understand that she carries a weight because part of her heart is missing...part of her is still with her child and she is straddling two worlds in order to stay connected to all of her children.  I understand that the intensity of her love hasn't diminished because her child has been gone 6 years now.  She loves him the same.  She grieves on his first day of preschool and kindergarten.  She grieves when she sees her kids running in the backyard wishing he could be with them.  Her heart probably aches when he isn't home on Christmas morning.  Because I understand her better, I saw her totally differently this year.  I saw myself in her and it didn't scare me.  Last year I wanted to run because I thought I could run away from these things.  I hoped I could escape the effects of death and mortality and grief, but I can't.  I feel more settled in my grief...it isn't raw and unrelenting like it was months ago, but it is still very much a part of my life.  I don't feel uncomfortable and distraught about this being part of my life.  I feel so much more accepting of the waves that come.   I feel the beauty in the pain.  Maybe I am like that...

I looked around at so many parents and families this time...there were too many.  I thought of  how they were going through the holidays without someone they love and it is painful and challenging at times, but they are ALL doing it.  It gave me courage and compassion.  They give everyone a white flower, and near the end, they invite everyone to place their flowers on the angel monument.  They invite anyone who has lost a child that year to place their flowers first.  I remember that moment last year.  Of course, I didn't see it coming because it was the first year...I walked up (while making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone) and put my flower down.  This year, I knew it was coming and I knew it wasn't me...but would be someone else.  When it happened and I saw those sweet mothers and father and sisters and brothers walk up and place their flowers, I  was overcome with emotion.  My heart broke for them and I wanted to reach out and take their pain and burden.  I knew I couldn't just as no one can take mine, but my heart had such compassion, knowing something of what they felt and the freshness of their loss.

On a lighter note, Lincoln was wild while we were there this year.  I talked to him about using a "quiet voice" and not running everywhere because I knew so many people would be there. He really isn't great about that sort of thing...ever.  I knew people would be there...some overcome with grief and everyone somewhat somber and it wasn't a time for Lincoln to be himself.  We got there and had to park in a place we don't usually park.  Lincoln wanted to know where Eli's grave was.  It was dark, so he couldn't see it.  When he saw the glow of his little lantern, he recognized it and started took off running .  He started yelling, "I see him!  I see him!"  Oh sweetie...I wish...  It was so sweet and brought tears to my eyes because someday that will be a highly appropriate thing to do.  We each received a white flower and Lincoln ended up breaking 2 of them because he was using them as swords.  Me and Jason ended giving all of the intact ones to the kids when it was time to put them on the monument.  I told Lincoln that he could put his up by the angel and he looked at me perplexed and told me he didn't want to.  He said he wanted to give it to Eli instead. I told him that was okay so he ran through the darkness, over to his grave again and carefully placed it there.  It was so tender and sweet.

The  musical number was: My Shepherd Will Supply My Need.
I listened to that song so much while I was pregnant.  I truly needed God to be there and I trusted that He would be.  The days before seemed so daunting and impossible and I relied on God in a way that I never have.  I have very tender feelings about this song.  It was such a beautiful gift for me to hear that night.

My Shepherd Will Supply My Need

Foreigner

A few weeks after Eli died, a dear friend showed up at my door.  She knew I needed a compassionate friend in that moment.  I opened the door, trepidatiously.  There were so few people that I could talk to in those moments with where my mind and heart were...even if they were good friends.  She said something to me that penetrated my heart. Her exact wording and analogy she used were something that could only be understood by me and God (and now her, it seemed...).  She tells me that my eyes lit up...like I could UNDERSTAND what she was saying.  I grabbed her and brought her inside.

She later asked me if I had ever been to a place where I didn't understand the language and really needed to.  I hadn't.  She shared an experience with me where she had been in that situation.  I believe her distress came because of a passport issue and no one around her spoke English.  Allof the sudden she heard some words she understood and saw someone a little ways away speaking English.  If I remember the story right, she made eye contact with this person and they immediately knew her need.  Someone was speaking her language and she could hear those familiar words out of crowd of people.  This person understood and could help her even though, up until then, this person was a stranger.  When she came to my door and started talking, she said I had that same look in my eye.

"You understand me.  You speak my language."

And that's why I pulled her inside. I desperately needed someone to know where I was and how to communicate with me.

When I talk about someone "understanding" me or "speaking my language,"  I think it's obvious that I'm not talking about a literal language barrier.  When your child dies...or is going to die, you suddenly become immersed in this new language.  The words may not sound different, but everything means something different.  The way you see life is different.  The way you respond to people is different.   The things that matter are different.  And it isn't just a theoretical exercise.  It is reality.

 When you meet someone that has lost a child, there is a new language that is spoken.  There is bond that is instantly and deeply formed even if the words you speak are inadequate....because your words are always inadequate, but somehow your heart isn't and this is conveyed in a way that words never can. You know them and their pain in a way that most people can't.  It simply isn't a language that can be learned unless you've lived it.  You can learn about it...you can read and observe and study about it, but it doesn't penentrate your heart.  The language isn't really yours.  When you meet someone that knows your language, it is so comforting and healing and immediately obvious.  There is someone you can talk to.  They understand what you are really saying.

I am in the midst of conversations at times and just hope someone will understand what I'm saying.  It is kind of like explaining to someone who doesn't have children how you love yours.  Love for a child can't be explained with just the words we have.  When you experience the birth of your first child, you are changed.  You use your language and clumsily string together words for how you feel about them... you would do anything for them...they are your world....you would sacrifice anything for them including yourself,  everything about your world changes....etc, but it really isn't sufficicnet to convey how deeply you feel for them...how much you really love them...how they are forever connected to you.  We just do the best with the words we have, but when someone else has also experienced this love, they understand what you are talking about and an instant, additional bond is formed.  The same comes with loss.  My words are inadequate to explain my feelings of sorrow and pain upon losing Eli, but when someone speaks my language, they understand what I am saying even though my words are clumsy and inadequate.  Of course, no two losses are the same...but there is a commonality that comes along with such a loss.

I think this language barrier that is so painfully obvious to me, eludes most people on the "outside."  This has made many interactions very difficult; especially when my grief was very fresh and or feels raw.  I  need to communicate and people think that's what they are doing, but the words seem to have no meaning.  There are times when I feel perfectly capable of being bilinguaul and using the language more common to the masses, but there are times when I can't speak that old language, try as I might.  I probably appear unresponsive and confused.  I am.  It's like I am a foreigner and I can't communicate with those around me.  I am so thankful for those angel friends that I have that do understand my language.  And, in time, I will learn how to be more proficient with my biligual skills.

The perfect tree

Oh, it's the 5th...it's the 5th!  I had the most touching thing happen today.  I have to tell the backstory.  December of last year was our first 5th without Eli.  We had talked about getting a little Christmas tree for Eli's grave, but the idea was hard for me.  I was too upset that these were the kind things I got to buy him...things for his grave...things you find in the lawn and garden area.  It just isn't the same as buying soft blankets and cute onesies, and the reality of it was hard to swallow.  We happened to be at Wal-Mart a few days after we buried him...you should know how I feel about that place from my previous posts.  Jason thought it would be good for me to get out of the house.  We saw the ugliest, crappiest little trees you can even imagine.  Sparse and plastic looking and just awful.  There was no way I was buying THAT for Eli.  Sorry..I would rather have nothing.  It felt insulting, but Wal-Mart can be like that.

The 5th came and we hadn't "planned" on doing anything.  We didn't have an routines or traditions in place.  I didn't have anything in place in my life. Trying to wrap my head around the idea of finding the tree I wanted required a lot of steps...getting up, getting dressed, going to multiple stores, interacting with cashiers...  It was all I could do to keep breathing and moving.  That evening, my friend, Ashley, arrived at my door with a beautiful, tiny Christmas tree. It had no resemblance to the pathetic offerings Wal-mart supplied.

It was alive.  It was simple.  It was perfect.

It was what I wanted without ever seeing it.  I felt such gratitude and was overwhelmed that that this perfect, tiny tree for Eli had literally showed up at my front door.  It felt like a gift from God himself.

On the 6th we went to the cemetery to attend a candlelight vigil in memory of anyone that had lost a child.  We were able to take the tree to Eli.  His little grave was still so fresh...the dirt was wet...the grass dead.  The small rectangle of sod was still completely separated from the surrounding grass making it painfully obvious how big the hole was that they had dug for his casket.  Putting the little tree on top of his grave made it more bearable to look at.

This year I knew I wanted another Christmas tree.  I didn't feel like I was being too particular in my specifications.  I wanted it to be alive and I wanted it to be simple.  Little details mean a lot to me when it comes to some things and when it deals with Eli, the details hold special meaning.  We had no luck finding one.  I didn't think something like this would be so hard to find during this time of year, but it truly was.

Today came and we still didn't have a tree.  I wanted to take it to his grave tonight.  I needed to take one to his grave, but I didn't have one.  Our day suddenly filled up with other things and I didn't think it would happen.  I told myself I would find one another day and take it there, but that's not what I really wanted.  I called my friend and asked where she had found this rare thing.  There was no answer so I left a ridiculously long message trying to sound less desperate about getting the tree than I felt.

Just a couple of hours later I heard a knock at my door.  Ashley was there with a perfect little Christmas tree.  I gave her the biggest hug.  I really couldn't believe she was there...with the tree I NEEDED....again!  I really love this sweet, sweet friend.  I tried to express how much it meant to me and how truly grateful I was.  I think she understood something of how I felt despite my excessive talking...I tend to do that.  She said she had been thinking about Eli and the little tree for a few days and felt the spirit whispering to her...when she received my phone call, she sprung into action.  She must have literally stopped everything she was doing to get it to me so quickly.  It warmed my heart in a way I can't describe.  I feel so grateful she listened to a prompting.  Sometimes things seem so little, but as a grieving mother, it meant the world to me.  In a strange way, it was sweet that me and Jason couldn't find a tree.  One was provided...it felt straight from heaven.  I can't wait to take it to Eli tonight.

How many?

Today I had to take Katelyn to a doctors appointment.  It was a longer appointment than Lincoln would have liked, but he was doing pretty good and I was proud of him for trying at all.  The woman helping us decided we needed some ice cream coupons because of long visit and Lincoln's patience.  She asked how many kids I had....I hear a lot of people say this is a dreaded question for them.  It isn't for me. I don't mind the question at all and sometimes am really happy to answer it.  I almost say 4.  Sometimes I talk about about Eli for a second, which I love.  I love that I get to say his name and claim him as mine even thought he isn't physically with me.  It isn't uncomfortable or awkward for me, but it is for some of the question askers...which is kind of sad really because people die all the time and I don't understand why its so taboo talking about them.  And it seems the younger they are, the more awkward it is.  If you tell someone your grandma isn't around, no one acts skittish, but if you mention a spouse or child, it really can make people feel uncomfortable...I guess they don't want it to hurt you worse than it already does and ignoring things usually makes them go away, right?  Not so.  I always answer the question of "how many?" correctly.  When one of your kids goes away to college or on a mission, do you just stop counting them?  That would be a very strange practice...they don't count anymore because they don't live at home?  I feel like Eli has gone away in a similar way.  I feel how temporary it is and it would feel strange to say that he wasn't part of our family.

Anyways, she asked how many kids I have and in this particular situation I chose to answer 3 because she was really asking how many coupons I needed.  On a different day, it may have really hurt to have to say 3, but I was okay about it today.  As soon as I said three, Katelyn jumped in and corrected me by saying, "We actually have 4 kids in our family."  I looked at the woman and explained that one of my children was in heaven so he didn't need a coupon for ice cream.  I said he wouldn't be getting ice cream until another time.  She was really sweet about it and didn't act awkward at all.  She asked how old he would have been .  I gave Katelyn a big hug and let her know how happy it made me that she included Eli.  I always include him unless it is something like a count for ice cream coupons, but even then, I was grateful that Katelyn corrected me.  I didn't realize how special it was to hear my childs name and have the chance to talk about them until I had one that people couldn't dote on.  Hearing his name is the sweetest sound I can imagine....almost.

Laena

Just thinking about my dear friend, JaLaine, tonight.  It is her daughter, Laena's, birthday today.  Laena went back home to Heavenly Father just 22 days after Eli.  Me and JaLaine were friends before this, but never close.  There wasn't a reason...we just weren't; nothing had brought us together.
It has been a tender experience to have had my heart so closely knit to JaLaine as we grieved our little ones together. 

JaLaine went in for her routine ultrasound about halfway through her pregnancy only to find that her sweet baby's heartbeat had stopped.  She then had to go to the hospital to deliver the baby that she would never meet alive.  They sent her to the hospital the next day (Wednesday), but as the process unfolded she was there much, much longer than she had hoped.  Laena was not born until Thursday making her arrival on Thanksgiving.  In some ways this just seems like extra salt in the wound.  I am not trying to speak for JaLaine.  (She is much sweeter and poetic than I am).  I am just telling the story from my perspective.  So many people didn't even know that she was pregnant.  I didn't know.  So she went from some people knowing that she was going to have a baby, to not being pregnant at all.  I feel like because of the timing of Laena's death (and JaLaine's tiny little body that kept her pregnancy a secret), Laena went unnoticed by too many people.  Again, this is my opinion.  I think that some people see it as an "oh darn...just try again...." like a battery that didn't work or a burned out light on the strand of Christmas lights.  But I assure you that a mother doesn't feel that way.  JaLaine didn't feel that way.  Her husband, Mike, didn't feel that way.  Laena's siblings didn't see it that way.

When you child dies, it just sucks.  I don't care how old they are.  I'm not saying that some ways of dying aren't more traumatic...of course some ways are.  I'm not saying the age of the child makes no difference....of course it does.  I'm just saying that no matter how it happens or what age it happens at, it sucks.  Some children are more acknowledged than others which is unfortunate and complicates your grief, but in the end, a mother is a mother.  You miss your child not matter what.  You don't feel completely whole because part of you is gone.  Your heart will ache and grieve until you are reunited.  But there is also tremendous beauty in the pain because the pain came about because of your love. I know that JaLaine continues to love and yearn for Laena.  I can't wait to meet her too.

Unsubscribing from life

The day after we buried Eli I did something kind of odd.  I spent some time unsubscribing to all of those emails you get that you never really subscribed to.  I changed my Facebook settings so I would no longer get emails about anything...whether they pertained to me or not.  
I'm not sure why it felt so important to do this, but it did.  I didn't want things cluttering up my mind or my inbox.  I felt like I needed to keep things as simple as possible.  
But besides simplification, I felt detached from the world I had once belonged to.  So much of that world was now irrelevant to me now.  I felt I lived somewhere else now and didn't need information from this planet anymore.  I still feel a lot of those emotions.  I continue to unsubscribe from most things.  I continue to block emails from Facebook.  I have deleted most of the apps on my phone, although Pinterest has found its way back.  I pin things, but keep all of my pins "secret."  Did you know you can do that?  I guess I don't want people watching me and seeing where my heart is that day.  Sometimes I pin recipes.  Sometimes I pin activities for the kids.  Sometimes I pin quotes about grief and sometimes I pin hopeful quotes.  (I should probably disclose that I am not on pinterest that much).  But I feel like I want to control what people know about me.  At times I laugh at myself for keeping all of my pinterest pinnings a secret because I post many intense and personal feelings and moments on my blog. But...I have control over that, so maybe that is the difference.

I think the days (and months) after Eli died  I unsubscribed from life.  I didn't really feel like I had a choice.  My grief washed over me and I was unaware of many things I had been aware of before.  After unsubscribing from almost everything (except sleep) it was easier what I had left. There was no clutter getting in the way.  As I "resubscribe" to things in my life I am very selective what I sign up for.  There are some things that I will never subscribe to again, but you have to subscibe to some things again (like paying your bills on time and making meals), and there comes a time when signing up feels right and makes sense again.  It is a pretty slow process for me.  I am usually comfortable with that because you shouldn't sign up for too many things too quickly. You shouldn't sign up for too many things at all.  

Ethan's baptism

Ethan was baptized last Saturday.  It was a sweet and memorable day.  We had so much support from family and close friends.  We were able to share the day with JaLaine's family as her son, Logan, was born just three days after Ethan on November 4th.  I felt so fortunate to share the day with their family.

Both of our boys were so handsome and they both possess somewhat of a tender heart.  I have such a sacred spot in my heart for Ethan.  After they were baptized they each took their turn sitting in a chair as a group of Priesthood holders surrounded them to give them the gift of the Holy Ghost.  I couldn't help but notice how big the men looked compared to these two little boys, but I could sense how powerful the boys were despite their tiny frames.  It was a beautiful image to see the strength and size of these men surrounding someone much smaller, much less experienced, much more innocent, but I knew that their potential to be powerful instruments in the hands of God had nothing to do with their size.  Ethan has lots of great men to look to as he navigates through his life and I am grateful for that.  He also has a remarkable brother in heaven to help guide him.  We felt a little piece of heaven today.

Nearer My God to Thee

We buried Eli on November 10th last year.  The wind was blowing towards the east.  Those who are native to Spanish Fork know that this is a rare occurence.  The wind always blows FROM the east...out of the canyon.  It was significant to me.  We let white balloons go for the first time and they blew towards the east.  What a symbol and comfort that was to me.  I commented on the wind to many people.  Someone said..."A storm is blowing in..."  That may have been the understatement of the year.  I knew a storm was blowing in...it came fast and furiously and nothing could have prepared me for it.

The days leading up to Eli's birthday last week were so sweet and peaceful.  I was surprised, but grateful.  It's not like I've ever done this before.  I don't know what to expect.  I can predict some of the storms or sorrowful moments I will feel, but I am wrong as much as the weather man.  Grief isn't something you can tame, even when it is your own.  It is still unpredicatable.

The weather outside today was what I would have expected with the first snowfall.  Wet and messy and not really that substantial with too much wind and not enough light...just cold and miserable.  It matched how I feel inside.  I'm not sure if I appreciate it or not?

I have been listening to this version of Nearer My God to Thee.  It is by Vocal Point.  I really love so many of their songs, but this one has struck a cord with me as of late.  I have known this song for many years, but a certain line hit me the other day.

In the first verse it says: E'en (even) though it be a cross that raiseth me...  I finally undestand that line in some context.

The song continues in the 2nd verse: darkness be over me...my rest a stone.  Sometimes life feels that way.  The darkness washes over me and it feels as if my only rest is a stone.  I'm not exactly sure what the writer meant by "stone."  Stones are hard and cold and don't remind me to warmth or comfort.  If you are searching for a warm blanket, a stone doesn't really feel that great, but that's what you get sometimes.

I love the line in the 3rd verse that says: Angels to beckon me... Sometimes our lives will be difficult...the storm will come and the comfort we seek won't come as readily as we would like.  But, in that process, I have come closer to God and know that He isn't absent while it is dark.  If I am patient enough and look for it, I can feel and hear those angels beckoning me to keep going.  There will be just a glimmer of light until it grows brighter and brighter.  But in the meantime; and sometimes the meantime is a long time, our relationship with God becomes stronger and deeper if we let it happen and don't lose faith.

Nearer My God to Thee

Happy Birthday

We celebrated Eli's birthday 2 days ago.  I have had quite a few emotions going into this.  I'm sure this will be a long post.

I wasn't sure what to expect with the 1st birthday.  Aren't 1st birthdays sort of infamous.  The little one, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling, chubby hands, messy face, too much noise...am I right?  I always felt it was more a party for me than my baby.  It was a huge milestone...we made it!  And look how beautiful my baby is!! I wasn't sure how these previous experiences were going to merge with having a celebration for Eli one year after he came and went.  Thankfully, Heavenly Father must work out all of those details because my heart was in such a grateful and peaceful place going into the days before Eli's birthday.  I have felt so much gratitude as I think about Eli and his beautiful and meaningful life.  I feel like the spirit brought so many things to my remembrance and I could step back and see the impact Eli has had in my life.  I could see so many of the things I have learned and the ways I have grown.  Taking a step back has been a challenge this last year as so many of my feelings are in the immediacy of life and so big that the other emotions get crowded out.  A couple of days before his birthday I felt a peace wash over me.  I would talk to people in the few days leading up to his birthday and I think people expected me to be a mess.  I wasn't.  I felt peace.  I felt gratitude.  It wasn't just an idea...it had entered into my heart.

Me and Jason talked a long time about how to spend Eli's birthday.  We combined our ideas and came up with a plan that felt good.

I had looked at the forecast days in advance and saw that there was a chance of snow on his birthday.  I had some pretty intense emotions when the first snow fell last year (more on that another time).  I DID NOT want it to snow on his birthday.  I needed it to be a sunny day.  Well, the closer the day got the smaller the chance of snow, but the clouds didn't look like they were going to dissipate.  The morning of his birthday I didn't have my contacts in and Ethan started yelling that it was snowing.  I am pretty blind, so I couldn't see it.  I got my glasses and sure enough...there is was.  The first snow of the year.  It was beautiful and delicate as it fell.  There wasn't a lot of it falling.  I expected it to pick up and the wind to start blowing wildly, like we are so accustomed to in Spanish Fork, but it didn't.  It just fell softly and lightly.  Me and Jason had previously talked about my first snowfall plight and he reminded me of what we learned about the symbolism of snow this past year:

"Water in all its forms is a symbol of knowledge.  Descending water represents the transmission of knowledge from a higher to a lower place, the flow of information from teacher to student.  If water (wisdom) were to flow continuously, it would totally submerge and obliterate...so water flows in various measures...rain, ice, snow...which are all metaphors for the teacher monitoring and transforming the flow into forms the student can...assimilate."  It goes onto say that snow consists of both earth (dust particles) and water vapor (ice).  "Thus snow, being half heaven and half earth provides the perfect intermediary between the two worlds."

Part heaven, part earth...falling from the sky lightly and beautifully....coming to us as knowledge...the snow can be assimilated in time and not all at once, like rain symbolizes.

Oh, and my maiden name is Snow, so I was feeling pretty great after reading this months ago...

I watched as many of the neighborhood kids ran outside.  They looked up in awe and wonderment.  There aren't many things that can create childlike wonder like the first snow of the year.  As I watched so many kids looking up in excitement and awe and I was so happy.  This was Eli's day.  He has taught us so much.  They were seeing beauty.  I, too, wanted to look up on this day in awe.

We started the day by going to the temple together.  It is a place where we can feel a closeness to Eli that is hard to feel in other places.  We had a sweet experience there.  When we came out, it was snowing again; this time a little harder, but it was beautiful against the red and orange leaves.

Me and Jason went to lunch and then came home.  As we drove around the corner we saw white balloons lining our street.  Because we let white balloons go each month, the sight of a white balloon conjures up sweet emotions for me.  I wasn't sure what the balloons were for at first.  When we pulled into our driveway I realized that they were for us.  Our thoughtful neighbors had organized to have white balloons all up and down our street, placing one in front of everyone's house.  I can't really describe the beautiful emotions that overcame me.  I was surprised...not because they aren't wonderful people; just surprised that people had remembered and that it mattered to them.  Eli is our world right now.  He is so important to us, but I had no idea that he mattered so much to everyone else.  I was deeply touched and so grateful.  I didn't want the feeling I had to end.  Me and Jason walked up and down the street so we could try and soak in the beauty of those moments.  That simple, but very thoughtful and beautiful gesture was one of the highlights of our day as we felt the love and support of so many people that care for our family.  I know we have had so much love and support through this.  I know that last year at this time there was a huge outpouring of care for our family.  But, last year, my heart was so consumed with sorrow that it didn't feel like anything could penetrate it.  This year, I think I felt a little of what people had done for us this entire year...it was like I could finally FEEL it instead of just seeing it.  I feel so grateful.

The pictures don't really do it justice... it was so beautiful...

When the kids got home from school we went to the cemetery to let our balloons go.  This month we made some balloons with our Team G logo on them which was kind of fun.  We also had a huge balloon that our friend, Amy, had made for us.  We tied near his grave.  I love it because it serves a marker.  Everyone that comes into the cemetery looks at it because you really can't help but notice it.  I feel like is shows how loved and wanted Eli is; how important he is to us.  There were many things at his grave...beautiful gifts.  It was so touching to know how many people love him and our family.  I love Eli...I think about him all the time, but today it felt as if so many peoples' hearts were drawn out towards him. I know that people think about him and our family more often than this special day, but I'm not always aware of it.  Today I was and it was sweet.  He means so much to me and having other people care about him does something soothing and healing to my heart.  The cemetery was mostly good.  Lincoln was really having a hard day so there was some usual family drama.  After we had been there for a little while Jason started the car and the kids climbed in because it was so cold.  Me and Jason took just another minute at his grave.  I wanted to sing a special song that we sing to him each night while we were there.  I was surprised as my emotions totally overcame me and I couldn't sing.  We sing this song all the time... I started to feel such an intense loss and sorrow come over me.  My emotions felt so raw and fresh and I wasn't sure I could leave the cemetery without my baby.  It's been a long time since I felt that with such intensity.  Going into his birthday, people had approached me with such sympathy. I think they thought I would be a mess and this day would be so difficult.  I wasn't a mess...I was filled with peace and hope and gratitude.  The moment in the cemetery was probably what everyone expected.  I hated to feel that way after the beauty I had felt.  I had wanted the peace and tranquility to last and last and last...of course it can't, but I was surprised to felt Eli as my sweet, sweet baby that I had to leave.  It was awful.  But, we had to leave eventually.  We still had some things planned and I wanted to enjoy it, but I was honestly so exhausted physically and emotionally and I was just happy the day had been so good for so long.  The rest of the day was still sweet, but I feel like my mortal body took over and I felt a lot of "missing you so, so much sweet baby" emotions.

I know...he looks like a perfect angel...He brought his ninja turtle camera to take pictures : )

We went to an ice cream shop called Eli's.  I was thrilled to learn they also had steamers...it was a little cold for ice cream.  We had the place mostly to ourselves.  I'm not sure the ice cream or steamers were the best I've ever had, but the little shop could do no wrong because of it's name.

Then we went and picked up some dinner.  The day Eli was born, the doctor came in several times to check on us and him.  He was surprised each time he came in to find that Eli was still with us.  On his last visit before Eli passed away he told us that he had never expected Eli to live as long as he had.  We talked together and it was obvious that Eli was not going to make it through the night.  Then he said something I will never forget.  He told us that we should  continue to enjoy each moment we had.  We should have someone go get us some food and have a family dinner with Eli.  The idea was so sweet to me because it was so simple and so powerful.  The kids went down with my dad and Tawny, I think, and bought some food for us.  While they were gone, me and Jason spent time alone with Eli.  This was the first time we had been completely alone with him.  Eli's color started to look really bad.  We checked his heart rate.  It was 40 ( normal is 120-160 for babies).  His breathing became less and less frequent until he stopped and had only an occasional agonal respiration.  These were the most sacred moments we had with Eli as we felt the veil as thin as we ever have.  We felt it was time for him to go and we felt immense peace as we waited for his last breath.  But then, through a strength and fight and determination that I can't totally understand, Eli resisted the pull from the other side in order to stay with us a few more precious minutes.  His heart rate went back up to 100 (which is as high as it ever was) and his color improved a little.  The kids returned.  We got to have our family dinner.  It was such a normal family moment.  The kids fought over who would hold Eli first.  Lincoln played with a balloon we had been given.  Jason sat back and ate a sandwich and I helped everyone with what they needed.  It was in those moment, those normal family moments, that Eli passed to the other side.  I feel there are many reasons he waited, but I believe one reason was that he wanted to see us being a family before he left.  Maybe he felt it was okay to leave once he saw that we were okay...acting like ourselves.   Eli didn't eat anything for our family dinner.  I realized later that I didn't eat either as I helped everyone with their needs.  For some reason, that felt just perfect to me.  So for dinner, we replicated our one and only family dinner with Eli.  Pizza for the kids and turkey sandwiches for me and Jason. I ate this time.

We had an angel food cake and blew out a candle.  These were sweet moments...although, like I said before, Lincoln was having a REALLY hard day.  It was definitely a normal family moment which made it just like the night we ate with Eli.  Katelyn told me it was the best cake she had ever had...ever!  Wow...she doesn't throw around foodie compliments to me very often...those are reserved for my friend Lindsay and aunt Tawny.  Thanks Betty Crocker, just add water, angel food cake mix.

We received many beautiful and thoughtful notes and gifts.  I was so touched as I saw the thought and sincerity that went into each gift for our family.  I wasn't expecting a thing, so I was so overwhelmed and grateful with the outpouring of support.  I will have to talk about many of these gifts another post because this is already too lengthy and each thoughtful deed touched us in such a different and intense way.

The weather was interesting...we got a little bit of everything.  I felt it mirrored my grief in many ways.  Some beautiful snow, some sun peeking through the clouds but a lot of overcast hours in the day.  It got dark earlier than I am used to...it was a nice metaphor.

I want Eli's birthday to be a day that is looked forward to by our family.  A day of beauty and gratitude.  I felt that his 1st birthday was so sweet.  I know that I can't have all of the wonderful feelings without some of the sorrow...that is just the way things work.  I love Eli so much.  I miss him so much.  I want to touch him and see him so badly, so of course some of this will surface on his special day.  But overall, I wanted this day to be a celebration and it was.

A little son

It is amazing what a little son can do...

Sunrise and Sunset

I have been drawn to the sun more than I normally am since Eli's death.  I notice how it is hidden on overcast days.  It is almost blinding on a clear, summer day.  There is a different light cast when it peeks over the mountain in the morning than when it shows its last rays at night.  The colors that welcome a new day are very different than the colors that say good night. The sun is anticipated and welcomed at the start of a new day.  It is bright, and almost harsh, as it inches its way over the mountain.  The colors that surround a sunrise are like a crescendo until the full light finally shows itself.  On the other hand, the colors that accompany the sunset are usually deeper and richer.  It seems slower and more full than the sunrise. There is a lingering feel to a sunset as you hold onto each moment.

I think of the cycle of life and death.  Sunrise and new life seem to parallel just as sunset and death.  Both are beautiful.  The light of a sunrise is anticipated and waited for.  In contrast,  you hold onto the last glimpses of light before the sun sets.  I think about the rest of the time the sun is up....the rest of the day. It doesn't hold as much beauty.  I never look at the sun at 11am and just stop and stare and soak in the moment.  But I do that a lot when the day starts or ends.  There is unique beauty in beginnings and endings.

 The beauty of a sunrise and a sunset never happen at the same time. There are distinct separate events with different colors; different emotions. They never happen at the same time

...until they do. 

We experienced the splendor and beauty and emotions of a sunrise and a sunset in the same day as we experienced the birth and death of our son.  

In the end, I wasn't left left thinking...

"That was it?  It was so short...."

No.... I was thinking I have never seen anything like it and I never will again. It wasn't a disappointment ...The furthest thing from it.  I didn't feel cheated or short changed.  Rather, I felt it a privilege to get to see that kind of beauty. And knew I would never see anything like it again. I knew it was rare and priceless and a gift that most people don't experience like our family did.

A name

There are few things more powerful than a name.  A single phrase that somehow becomes a symbol for an entire existence.

-Lance Conrad, The Price of Creation

Happy Birthday Ethan

 

Happy Birthday Ethan!

He turned 8 this year.  It is a big birthday for him.  He planned and helped carry out his Pokemon birthday party complete with a homemade pinata.  It was a lot of fun.  We look forward to his baptism in a couple of weeks.  He has grown up a lot this last year.  As I looked at pictures of him from his last birthday, I realized how much bigger he really is.  His maturity has increased as well.  He is such an easy boy to love...so kind and thoughtful.  He always says please and thank you and gives me hugs.  Because he is well behaved, he gets lost in the mix of our family dynamic from time to time.  Katelyn doesn't let herself be forgotten and Lincoln is to full of life to let him out of our sights for too long.  Ethan tempers both Katelyn and Lincoln is different ways.  It is very interesting to watch him and he interacts with them.  He is so needed and loved in our family.  I am so grateful to be his mom.

On a personal note, his birthday seemed a lot further away from Eli's birthday last year.  Their birthdays are only 4 days apart, but it seemed a lot longer last year.  It is due in part to the fact that  everyday was such a gift last year.  4 days was a long time last year.  We had hoped and hoped that Eli would be born after Ethan's birthday and to get 4 days more was such a blessing for us.  We celebrated Ethan's birthday on Saturday and then waited until Wednesday to meet Eli.  This year it has felt that their birthday's are almost on top of one another.  There is no one else that I would rather have Eli's birthday be next to.

  Despite that, planning a Pokemon party and a birthday for my sweet Eli, who is in heaven, in the same week is a little strange.  I have never had to think about what a birthday for my child who isn't here would be like (and it isn't themed the same as Pokemon).  But after witnessing the fun that Ethan had today I understood that is was because his party was age appropriate...games, candy, cake, pinata....Eli's birthday will also be age appropriate and I don't mean that I am planning a party for a 1 year old.  I look forward Eli's birthday as a sweet and memorable day.  The 5th of November was such a beautiful and sacred day...hard, yes, but not bad...not something I dread thinking about or remembering.  It is a day that I treasure more than I can explain.  It will be a sweet celebration of Eli's life and the influence he has had and will continue to have in many lives.

Halloween

 

 

Aversion to Halloween

I have been writing about a lot about my love for the season Fall....HOWEVER...there is one part of Fall I could really do without: Halloween.  I know some people love it.  I don't.  I never have and I assume I never will.  I have more of an aversion to it this year than ever before.

I don't really understand the point of Halloween.  We dress our kids up in costumes and let them knock on doors and get free candy.  I'm not sure the life lesson...don't talk to strangers, don't take candy from strangers (except on Halloween- it's okay on that day).  And the decorations....ugh...makeshift cemeteries in front yards with homemade headstones, skeletons, mummies, zombies...what?  I even saw a little mummy figurine at the cemetery which I thought was more than a little ironic; very, very strange.  I have seen a lot more decorations this year than I remember seeing in past years...the grim reaper, bloody arms...I don't get out much, so the fact that I have seen these things is a little strange and bothersome.

The haunted houses, forests, corn mazes....I don't get it.  I don't enjoy being scared.  It doesn't give me any sort of thrill.  It just feels terrible and sick.  The only haunted things I have been to in my life were with a Young Women's group...which is probably not appropriate?  I once watched a scary movie at a Beehive activity and couldn't sleep for weeks.

I recently helped in Ethan's class and had to help some of the kids write poetry about zombies.  They were telling me all kinds of interesting facts about zombies...their eyes hang out of their heads, they hold their arms straight out in front of them when they walk, they can only say "brains....brains...." (because that is what they eat?).   I am pretty naive when a  bunch of 7 year olds are bringing me up to speed on zombies.  Then, they told me they come out of the ground in cemeteries.  OKAY, OKAY....I had to stop them there.  I went on for a little while about how zombies are PRETEND and when we "come out of the ground" we aren't going to look like that and it won't be scary.  ANYWAYS.....we got back to writing the poems...(just as long as everyone was clear on the facts!) Seriously...who came up with the gruesomeness of this supposed holiday.

Somewhere along the way people came up with these strange symbols and idea.  The grim reaper for one...I have experienced death one time and it was the furthest thing from the ideas that the grim reaper conjure up.  Another idea is the idea of cemeteries being dark and scary places.  Some sacred truths have been twisted and made to be something horrible and sick instead of what they really are.  Does this sound familiar to anyone?

Hopefully I haven't offended all of the Halloween loving people out there.  It is fun to watch the kids get dressed up...I could do without the free candy.  They should at least have to do something for it.  And what ever happened to those tiny tootsie rolls that I used to get?  I used to get 7 or 8 pieces of "good" chocolate and a lot of no name, old candy.  Now, my kids get the GOOD stuff with an occasional orange paper wrapped mess of peanut butter and taffy.  On the bright side, we have so much candy that we can decorate our gingerbread houses around Christmas time.  I would still rather just buy the candy for the gingerbread houses.

All in all, I am sooooo happy that Eli was born in November.  It seems like when November 1st comes, Halloween is OVER and Thanksgiving and Christmas have begun.  I don't know of another holiday that gets the boot so fast.  Hooray for that.  I much prefer Eli's birthday being in the season of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It just makes more sense.  I'm happy Heavenly Father planned it like that.