Friends

On Sunday I went to my cousin, Trevin's homecoming.  He just returned from his mission to Mozambique.  The sacrament meeting was so, so good.  There weren't 300 kids in there (like our ward), so it was possible to hear.  The topic was friendship.  At first, I wasn't sure what to expect, but the first speaker was a sweet, soft spoken girl who had just completed her service as a church service missionary.  She talked about friendship.  I was amazed how her voice was so small, but her message wasn't dampened because of it.  Trevin isn't as soft spoken, but a lot more so than I remember him being two years ago.

Trevin, you have grown.  You have grown in knowledge and experience and in the spirit.  You have changed.  There is nothing like seeing a faithful and obedient missionary return.  We have had two missionaries return in our family in the last two months (Lindsay and Trevin), and they both came back different; stronger and older and more firm.

Someone recently said to me that the best thing about having a missionary leave, is when they come back. Ya.  I can see that.  I know they didn't think they weren't intending to talk about my life directly, but they were.  I anticipate that day like no other.  I also have  a missionary out.  He isn't coming back in a predictable fashion.  I don't get "traditional" letters, but I do get them.  I don't get to Skype on Mother's Day or Christmas, but I do communicate.  I haven't gotten any pictures yet...  maybe I just need to think harder.

Anyways, they talked about friendship during this meeting, and it was so powerful and so sweet.  Here are some of the thoughts I have had about "friends" lately:

In the early days (I am meaning early days of my experiences....)I worried that because I hadn't talked to many people, the friendships and relationships I had prior to this experience would sink. They would be buried in a deep abyss and I somehow had to hold onto these people if I wanted to maintain and continue these relationships. It really bothered me for awhile as I thought about how I hadn't talked with "so and so" in months.  I think it was frightening for some people to approach me, and I wasn't doing much approaching on my end (not out of fear....just inability).  I worried these relationships were sinking and they wouldn't come back. But I also felt incapable of reaching out and saving anything. I was just helplessly watching them sink because I had no power to do anything else. I felt myself changing and becoming a new person. I didn't know how I would ever reenter their lives because I would be different. It would be a new acquaintance in some ways. I was still getting to know myself. I still am and I was afraid that they wouldn't recognize me anymore.  

As the months have gone on, and many people have never uttered more than a "hi," if that, I am less stressed and more content. I have stopped worrying so much about these relationships that I thought were sinking. I'm not sure what will happen, but if it was ever worth anything in the first place, it will come back. These relationships will come back from the deep water. If there was enough substance to begin with, it will withstand this storm.  Some might stayed buried and that's okay too.  Others will be stronger and deeper and that's the way it was always supposed to be. Nothing stays the same forever. It gets stronger or weaker, but no relationship is constant. 

As JaLaine would say: I don't need a certain number of friends; just a number of friends that I can be certain of. 

If I can be certain of you, that means a lot to me. 

When you are passing through a fire, people filter in and out of your life pretty easily. It was quite shocking to me at first.  I wanted to hold onto certain people, but  realized my "holding on" wasn't amounting to much.  It they were going they were going, and if they were coming they were coming, and the ones that left were probably never there anyways.  Most of the time I wasn't surprised; a couple of times I was and that was really awful to experience.  

We throw around the term "friend" in such a haphazard way.  We call many of our acquaintances "friends" because it sounds too cold and distance to use the term "acquaintance," but that's really all they are.  What is a friend?  To me, a friend is someone who takes you the way you are.  It is someone who doesn't run the other direction when your house catches on fire.  They are willing to run into the flames and get a little burnt if it means staying by your side.  They help you to become better, but don't push or pull you; rather walk by your side. A friend is constant and forgiving.  A friend, simply put, is just THERE no matter what happens.

 In John 15:13 it says: Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

As I pondered on this scripture I thought about how friends don't necessarily have to lay down their lives, but maybe something else.  I have had friends lay down their time to listen to me.  I have had friends lay down their fear, and come talk to me even though it is uncomfortable.   I have had others lay down a part of their selfishness and continue to reach out to me even though I don't always reciprocate fully or at all.  We don't always literally lay down our physical lives for our friends, as Christ did, but we can in so many needed and meaningful ways and I think it forges these bonds to be stronger and lasting.

I am truly blessed to have handful of faithful and true friends. 

Road biking

Happy Birthday to me!  It's not my birthday yet, but I have been wanting to try road biking, so I got an early birthday present.  I have actually wanted to try it for a long time.  I thought about doing it long before I was pregnant with Eli, but while I was pregnant I determined to try it.  I really thought it would be a good thing for me after he died.  I was always too nervous of getting hit by a car before.  People have been telling me all kinds of horror stories about cycling.  I'm not that concerned.  Having someone die has a funny way of changing your fears around.  I could hurt myself a lot of different ways, so there's no point in worrying too much about it.

I have been running, but there are some drawbacks.  It hurts my foot and I can't go that fast or far.  I like the idea of covering a lot of ground.  I also like the idea of moving fast. It is proving to be just as fulfilling as I had imagined.  I also like the idea because it isn't so pounding on your body and won't make me hurt like running does.  I guess that is until I wreck?

A couple of things to remember:

1.  Unclip before you get off your bike.  It is hard to get used to clipping in and out of pedals.  I have fallen a couple of times, but luckily, only Katelyn saw me so my ego wasn't too bruised.  Another part of my body was....today I fell on my shoulder.  There isn't a lot to catch you when your feet are clipped in and your hands are on your bike.

2.  Close your mouth on the river trail (I got a little extra protein this morning).

3. You can't drive your car like you ride your bike.  There are laws about speed, etc.  I got in the car after a nice ride this morning and realized I needed to take it back a notch.

England

I wanted to write a little more about our amazing trip to Europe!  But I don't know where to start; I guess at the beginning.

We flew to London.  I honestly have to say that during the first leg of our flight, I already felt like I was on vacation.  I was on a quiet plane with minimal interruptions, a soft seat, and a good book.  That was enough for me.  I felt recharged after just a few hours of that.  Of course,  I knew that the trip was just going to get better from there, but you know you need a break if you think the plane ride is wonderful.  We arrived in London and it was technically the next day even though we hadn't slept much.  We somehow made it to the hotel while dragging our luggage onto the "tube" (London's version of the subway).  We checked our bag into the hotel and went and found a little place to eat.  They didn't know how to split the check for some reason, which I found annoying and entertaining all at the same time.  We used a "hop on, hop off" tour bus to get around the city.  You get on and off as you please.  London was a very fast paced city.  They drive on the opposite side of the road, which I never got used to.  The lanes are very narrow compared to what we are used to here, and defensive driving is on a whole new level there.  It is survival of the fittest.  We were on a double decker bus and were just sure that it was going to hit a lamppost or a building several times.  Their ability to maneuver is amazing, I must say.  I was also shocked with all the luxury cars.  Almost every car was a black Mercedes.  Occasionally, we would see other cars, but they were mostly high end vehicles.  No Fords or Kias.  The people seemed very abrupt.  At first I thought they were rude, but after awhile, it just felt like they didn't have time to be friendly or polite.  It seemed like they valued efficiency more than kindness.  It didn't totally bothered me.  We only had one day there and we wanted to fit in as much in as possible.  Here are some of our favorite visits:

St. Paul's Cathedral

London Tower

Big Ben

Kensington Palace

London Bridge

More Kensington Palace in the gardens

Hyde Park

We walked about 13 miles that day and were exhausted when we got back to the hotel.  We hadn't eaten dinner and I was perfectly content to just go to bed, but Jason insisted that we eat something.  I did have a little meltdown at that point.  It was overwhelming to interact with so many people and not feel able to talk about Eli at all.  I think we were exhausted and hungry and Jason made the right decision to get us food.  He walked across the street to a little store.  He bought some cottage cheese, yogurt, cheese and crackers.  I started eating the cottage cheese and was confused for a minute or two; seriously.... I looked at the package over and over again to make sure it was really cottage cheese.  It tasted soooo much better than the cottage cheese I buy at Costco, and I was sure it was something else because the discrepancy was that big.  As we ate the rest of the dairy, it was pretty clear that Europe had completely different standards for food.  It was so, so much better. Before we left on our trip, I was reevaluating my relationship with dairy, and since we've been home, I can hardly eat it.  I know what REAL cottage cheese tastes like now, so I won't be duped anymore.  This went for all the dairy in Europe.  We had whipping cream, ice cream, cheese.  Even the dairy on the airplane that was stocked with food from the UK was head and shoulders above anything I have ever had here.  It is really quite embarrassing how awful the dairy is here.

The next day we drove across the countryside to Stonehenge, I decided that I was born in the wrong country.  I'm pretty sure.  I really like dairy, I would look just fine in a black Mercedes, and I value efficiency more than some other traits that I should probably work on developing.  I felt I would fit right in if I were to buy a little English cottage in the countryside.

I didn't know much about Stonehenge before, but it was such an incredible thing to see in person.  From what I remember, it was constructed by a "sophisticated prehistoric" people.  The rock formation helped them keep time.  There was special significance with the winter and summer solstice.  It was a sacred place; a place of worship.  It was also a place of burial.  They have no idea how the people moved the massive stone into place, which is a lot of the reason that this place is so intriguing.

I am so sensitive to "places of burial" and it seemed like we went to a lot of places like this while in Europe.  They would often bury people in their places of worship (like below their churches or at Stonehenge).  That idea makes perfect sense to me now.  Places of burial are sacred ground. 

I felt mostly reverence as we visited Stonehenge and wished that there weren't so many people there (a common complaint I seem to have).  I wondered about these people and their way of life.  I felt like it was a sacred and beautiful place.  

Empty temples

I have had the wonderful privilege of helping with the Payson temple open house a couple of times. I have lots of things I could say about this, and maybe I will later, but I wanted to talk about the idea of an empty temple.

When I say, empty temple, I don't literally mean "empty." Let me explain. I have been to three different temple in the last five months that had very few people inside.

The first time was very shortly after Eli passed away.... a week and half after. I went to the last session at the Provo temple on a Monday, which is mid morning. I take my sweet time in the celestial room, and because I was in the last session, almost everyone was gone as I sat there. When I finally got up and started walking downstairs, I realized that most of the temple workers were gone too. It seemed very empty. It looked empty. It didn't feel empty. I think there are many.... many people at the temple...all the time. They talk about angels several times during different ordinances. I don't  think they are just saying it to sound nice. Of course they are there.  As I walked thought the seemingly vacant halls, I could feel that it wasn't empty at all. I think that having so many patrons and workers there makes it harder to feel this...for me at least. But as soon as most of them left, it was not hard to feel.

The second time this happened was at the St.George temple. We took the kids down there for a little spring break getaway and me and Jason took turns going to the temple. I happened to go to the last session on a Monday morning again. As usual, I took my time in the celestial room. This celestial room is very unique because there are sealing rooms attached to the room that you can go into. I was in very large sealing room all by myself. The sun was coming in through the east facing window. After some time, I knew that almost all the people I could see were gone.  I could see a temple worker pacing about, so I knew it was time to go. It was the same feeling as I walked through the halls. It appeared empty, but it didn't feel empty.

And last, but not least, I went through the Payson temple on a sort of impromptu tour. It was the day before the temple was opened to the public and I was privileged enough to help that day. There were very few people around as I walked through the temple. I was with a group, but walked off several times by myself to explore a room here or there. I felt so at home there. I was perfectly calm and at peace. This is what the sprit world is like, in my mind, only amplified. It felt the same as the hospital room where I held Eli. It feels the same as the cemetery. I have felt it in my home. It is the same feeling: warmth, safety, calm, peace....I guess it is home. I seem to loose track of time in these places. I certainly did that day in the St. George temple. There was one point where I was completely alone, but I knew I wasn't.  I don't think there are more people, angels, ancestors, spirits (whatever term suits your fancy), there when everyone leaves. It is just easier to feel them. That's my theory. It seems like a good one. If you ever have a chance, go to the last session at the temple.

And, I can add that going first thing in the morning, while most people are still sleeping, is just as beautiful.

Of course, I don't meant to say that this is the only time you can feel this intense presence.  A couple of Sundays ago,  me, Jason, and Katelyn went to the Payson temple dedication. This day, by contrast, was not an empty temple day, but it was easy to feel the spirit there. It was so powerful; almost tangible. We walked out and there were people lining up against a rope line. At first, I wondered what they were doing, but quickly realized they were lining up in hopes to see the general authorities exit the building. (Talk about being in the right place at the right time). Shortly after we walked out, we saw several general authorities exiting....Henry B. Eyring, Neil L. Andersen, Bishop Gerald Causse, and Sister Cheryl A. Esplin. Katelyn was able to shake President Eyring's hand!  It was such a great end to the beautiful dedication. I was so happy Katelyn was old enough to be there.  She commented on how even though she was not allowed to do work in the temple until she was twelve, she did get to be inside the temple after it was dedicated. I think she felt pretty special.  I feel a deep connection to the Payson temple.  It is more than just the fact that I have been there and helped with things a little.  It is more than the fact that I am in this temple district.  I feel like many people in the spirit world have been waiting for this temple. I feel like I have been waiting for this temple, but didn't realize it.  It feels like home.  As my friend, Lindsay, said to me the other day...a feeling of familiarity is different than a feeling of home.  Just because something feels "familiar" doesn't mean it feels like home.  Absolutely.  When I go to a temple (besides the ones I normally attend),  I feel like a visitor.  I feel welcome, but I definitely feel like a visitor.  I felt like I had arrived at home the first time I went to the Payson temple.

                             

unfinished business

There a feeling that seems to stay with me.  Sometimes it is intense and I can't focus on anything else.  Sometimes it blurs into the background.  But, it is always there, on some level.  I feel like something is unfinished.  I feel like I mowed half of the lawn, or made the batter for a cake, but never baked it.  I feel like I prepared the soil for a garden, but never planted.  I feel like I turned the car on, but never drove anywhere.  It is an unsettling feeling.  It is an unfinished feeling.

I feel that because I did mow half the lawn.  I did make the batter, but never baked the cake.  I did prepare the soil, but never got a chance to plant.  I did turn the car on, but never drove anywhere. Now the car is running and I am wondering what to do.  I have all this energy to finish what I began, but have no ability to do so. I just want to finish it.  I wouldn't even care if it were hard or painful or tedious.  I don't care how laborious it is.  I just want to feel like I can finish what I started.  (And not necessarily for the sake of finishing.)

I guess that's what happens when you nurture and care for and give birth to a child now, but have to wait until later to raise them.  It doesn't flow the way it should and it has left me with an unfinished feeling.

There are times when I remember the events of November 5th and wonder how I was able to walk away when it was all done.  How could I give birth, watch death, and then bury my child, and walk away?  It seems crazy.  But even through those events, I was still doing something. It may not have been something pleasant but there was something to do. There was something.  I had to do those things.  Maybe I didn't even want to do some of them, but it was necessary. But, now that there is nothing tangible to do.  I recognize that those things were better than nothing. It was care of some type. Dressing his body, even though it was cold, was better than dressing nothing. And nothing it what I have now.

I can go to the cemetery and clean up his grave.  I can move his belongings around to different boxes. I can write. But, it just doesn't satisfy that feeling.  Nothing does because nothing is supposed to.

I think to myself (in a totally irrational way) why did I leave it unfinished?  I should have finished it!!!  I should have finished.  But....I did finish.  It is so hard to have the feeling like I didn't.

I know that I completed the work that God needed me to do at that time.  I felt that impression and knew it was truth.  That was all I needed to do for Eli....for now.  At least physically.  There are things I can do, but they are not physical things for him as a baby.  They are not tangible.  If I completed the work I was supposed to do at this time for Eli, why do I feel so unfinished?  Because I can't just flip the switch and turn off that part of me that  wants to mother him in the traditional nursing, rocking, caring sense.  That part of me keeps playing but the rest has been silenced.

I will always feel this way in some sense, but I believe time will ease and dull it.

A couple of years ago I had some unfinished business.  I used to run quite a bit in high school and college and I thought it would be fun to change up my routine and start running more regularly again.  It didn't go very well. I tried to train for a half marathon, but my leg was giving me such trouble and I eventually stopped running all together.

It has stayed unfinished all this time and has bothered me.  Not a lot, but enough to annoy me.  I knew it was an easy thing to resolve and I wanted to wrap up this loose end.  (Not everything can be resolved).  I ran a half marathon the end of April.  It felt good to finish this.  I don't need any extra unfinished business floating around in the back of my mind.  I very much enjoyed the run.  It was through the gardens at Thanksgiving Point during the tulip festival.  It was beautiful.  It is a rather small race, which I really enjoyed.  I liked that we were all doing the same thing.  Probably many different reasons, and many different skill levels, but we were all running the same race.  It was nice to do something hard with so many people around doing the same hard thing. I feel, oftentimes, that I am doing something hard, and am doing it alone.  I know this isn't totally true, but part of it is true.  There are parts of grieving that are just lonely.  It's not necessarily that you don't have support or friendship, but certain roads only have access for one.  I think that's why I enjoyed the race so much.  Everyone was doing something hard.  I also noticed the effort it took for people to run.  The race was set up so that you have to do some backtracking.  You would run to a certain place and then turn around and run back for awhile before the trail diverted again.  I could see people that were ahead of me and behind me because of this.  There were many people ahead of me who looked like gazelles as they ran effortlessly along the trails.  (I'm no gazelle).  There were many people behind me who looked like they were exerting extreme effort to move forward even one step.  So the effort people exerted didn't have much to do with where they were on the path; which I found interesting and inspiring in many ways.  Around mile four we were running on a gravel path.  I thought about how grief and this race were similar.  We were running on an odd little path and there was no one around, and I wondered where are those people were that I saw at the starting line.  Why isn't there an aid station here or some family members cheering?  Sure, it's nice to have someone at the starting line and the finish line, but what about some of the miles in between? What about the gravel road at mile four? I could have used a friendly face right then.

And as for the aid stations: Sometimes the aid stations don't have what you want or need.  It's not like they aren't trying.  People with bright, shining friendly faces hold out a cup of water to you, but sometimes you refuse it.  Sometimes drinking the water would do more harm than good. I am a minimalist when I run so I refused most of the smiling faced offerings. Sometimes it's just not what you need.  Another nice parallel.

When I got near the end, I kept waiting for Mile marker 12. It never came.  I kind of wonder if it even existed. I was trying to save just a bit of steam for that last mile, but before I knew it, I was just a block away from the finish line. I should have been relieved.  I was a little, but kind of bugged because I was ready to go and there was no race left. I was ready for a part of the race that never happened.  (That is a feeling I have felt before).

I ran through the last stretch before the finish line. There were fences up to separate the runners from the crowds. I looked anxiously for my family. I saw many faces and didn't care an ounce about the other people I saw. I just wanted to see my husband and kids. I finally did. They were right next to the finish line. I saw their faces and was so happy, relieved, comfortable. They had their team G shirts on. During the race, I thought I should have planned better and had everyone wear their shirts. I should have worn mine. My planning skills haven't been as honed as they normally are.  I felt such gratitude when I saw those shirts. Jason had known what to do. I can't totally describe the feeling I had, but I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself. I felt I represented my family. I felt they all cared about my race. It was just a silly  race, but the symbolism was important for me.

 When I was very near the finish line and there was a pacer running just ahead of me. For those not savvy in the running world, they have "pacers" that run with a sign stating what pace they are running at. I guess to help motivate and help you regulate your pace. I hadn't seen this pacer since the beginning. I didn't care. I wasn't trying to keep up. But, the person looked at me and kind of waved the sign in the air; almost most in a taunting way.  They could have meant to to be encouraging, but there was a least a hint of taunting. I don't like being taunted.  I knew I would have to sprint as fast as I could (which isn't that fast) to catch them before the finish line. I did and caught up right before I crossed. I'm sure I looked ridiculous as I ran in front of all of those people. Didn't care. It was a great day.

Thanks for being so smart, honey, and wearing your shirts to the race. I was happy to have my team there. I was happy that they were there to support me and love me. I was happy to have that small piece of unfinished business finished.

As for the much larger and more significant piece of unfinished business....it will have to stay unfinished and I will have to learn how to live with that feeling....until later...

Gymnastics

All of my kids are in gymnastics.  I just put Lincoln in.  They don't really do much when they are four years old, but his siblings are doing it, and I knew he would feel so big and so excited to do something like them.  He loves it!  Lincoln is in a little gym separate from the big kids.  In order to see him, you have to sit on a bench and look through a window.  I went the first time, excited to watch him.  All of the other mothers there were younger than me.  It was their oldest child in the class, as opposed to their youngest, like me.  I was the last one to take a seat in the little area where where we could see our kids.  As I approached, I saw that the girl on the end was holding a baby.  Then I looked at the next mom, and sure enough, she was holding a baby, and the next one and the next one.  Well, there are only 6 kids in the class and every single mom (except me, obviously) was holding a baby.  I just stopped for a second and thought, "Seriously?"  I know I am in UT county and all, but.... seriously?  I was having a good day and wanted to be brave and sit down next to all of these moms with babies in tow.  I didn't really want to sit by them, but there was no where else to sit where I could see Lincoln, and I felt like I could do it.  I sat down.  No one knew each other.  They all started chatting and getting to know one another.

Oh, what's your child's name. How many years apart are they? Where do you live? etc.  They ended up talking about their pregnancies and and babies and how this one slept and this one didn't.  They were excited (or not) about the crawling stage and all seemed very concerned about their oldest and baby getting along with each other.  I felt a lot older.  A lot older.  Not just because I was.  I wanted to say "old people" things like: This too shall pass.  It is only a phase.  (Which I knew were true statements because I used to have two little kids.  I remember when Katelyn was 2 1/2 and Ethan was a baby. Time has given me more perspective).  I also wanted to say a grieving mother phrase like: stop whining about your baby that is alive.  As they sat there, innocently talking about their babies and pregnancies, I wondered if I would ever be part of that kind of conversation again?  The kind where you talk about how much you hate your stretch marks and how fat you got and what kind of food you ate while you pregnant,  How sick you were (but inserted the caveat that you knew the sickness was "worth it"...).  I decided I probably wouldn't be part of that conversation again because pregnancy and babies will always mean something different to me.  It doesn't mean I will always hurt, but I will always see through a different lens.  That is going to leave me out of a lot of conversations around here.  Maybe I should move into a retirement community?

 They talked and talked about the baby stage and how tired they were and how they wished they didn't have to hold their baby all day.  I understand that this is where conversations go.  It is the only thing they have to talk about.  I didn't enjoy the conversation I had to overhear, but it was tolerable.  I was surprised I could sit there on that day.  Well, I only sat there for half of the class before I got up, but that was still a big deal for me.  No one talked to me, and I didn't talk to them, and it was just as well because I'm such a sucky liar.

 I was in a store the other day and a toddler wanted to be held.  Her mom said, "I carried you for nine months while I was pregnant.  Then, I carried you for 9 more months while you learned how to walk.  I am not carrying you anymore."  Well, lucky you.  At least you get to pick if you carry her or not.  It is so difficult for me to hear things like this. I wish people would talk softer.

Yesterday we went to gymnastics and it wasn't as good as day as last time.  The conversations continued.  Then, one of the babies threw a pretty large tantrum.  I'm not sure if you can call it a tantrum when they are a baby, but this mom did.  This baby couldn't have been too old.  He couldn't walk.  I'm not even sure if he could crawl.  His mom just laid him in the hard floor and let him scream for awhile while he writhed around.  He had quite an awful cry. I wasn't sure how long I could sit there and "not watch" that go on.  I'm sure this mom was rightfully tired.  She was pregnant (of course) and looked exhausted.  Maybe both of her kids had been screaming all morning and she was done.  I get it.  But, it was still hard to witness.  I wanted to grab her shoulders and tell her to pick up her baby.  I wanted to pick up her baby.  Not really, but I thought someone should!  It was horrible.  I did leave at that point. I decided I am going to bring headphones next time and listen to music while I watch Lincoln.

Jason

I wrote this awhile ago.  I think it is about time I post it.

Well, I have at least a few more things to say about Jason:

Jason had to go on a business trip in the middle of March.  I knew it was coming up and it would only be a couple of days.  My days are so mixed up that I seem to rarely pay attention to the actual date (unless it is the 5th and sometimes the 10th).  I don't see very far ahead.  Usually a day if I am lucky.  I didn't realized he was really going until a day or two before.  He hasn't gone out of town since we found out about Eli's diagnosis.  He had one trip back in September that someone went on for him because we were too nervous about what was going on.  I have been so dependent on Jason, so I was little worried with him leaving.  I am not really a dependent person.  I am pretty self sufficient and don't NEED Jason every second.  Well, right now I do, and I was worried about him leaving.  He is the one I need and go to.  There isn't really a substitute for him.  It is very strange for me to need him so much, because I am usually okay.  I have discovered that if I fall, he will catch me.  I have never "fallen" quite like this.  I have never needed that.  I didn't expect to need it. I have learned that when it really matters Jason is there.  What a beautiful thing to experience.

Several weeks ago, we were having a conversation....rather I was talking, a bit frantically, I recall, and he was patiently listening.  I preface a lot of my thoughts with, "Don't hold me to this," or "You know how I REALLY feel, but I need to get this off my chest," etc.  I need to say things, sometimes, to get them out of my system, but would have to throw in a testimony at the end with a lot of people so they would know what my true feelings are.  I have learned that Jason isn't going to lecture me on irrational thoughts and uncontrolled feelings.  I don't have to preface things anymore.  At one point during our "conversation,"  he said something to the effect that "I understand that what you say and feel today is only limited to today.   I know that it may change dramatically in a day or week.  It could all change in 10 minutes.  I'm okay with that. You can tell me."  I think I was speechless for 3 or 4 seconds; which hardly ever happens.  I looked at him and thought, "You are the smartest man alive".  Seriously, those were the exact words in my head, and I don't throw around compliments haphazardly.  A man that allows me to have crazy and irrational and angry or depressed thoughts and doesn't try to FIX it!  Jason doesn't.

You should have seen him the first 6 weeks after Eli died.  Making lunches for the kids, doing their homework with them, making dinner, taking them to gymnastics, and taking care of me.  What was I doing? I have no idea.  I was wandering around in a fog half dead and the other half drunken with sorrow and pain.  He just did everything. I didn't even realize it until he left to go back to work.  I thought I would be "forced" to do the things I used to.  I wasn't actually forced, because I still didn't do a lot of things.  I never imagined I could feel like that and need to be cared for like a toddler.  It isn't in my nature.

I don't usually need people to speak for me.  I am quite capable and usually Jason would never even try to assume that role, but he has done that for me on more than one occasion.  It makes me feel slightly sick and terribly feeble to think about, but he did it because I couldn't.

This experience has greatly strengthened our marriage.  I know that I can go to him.  He never makes me feel like I am wasting his time or that he is sick and tired of hearing me talk.  And, if you only knew how long I can talk you would be astounded.  Truly.  I don't ever feel like I need to pull myself together and put on a fake happy face to make him happy.  I can just be myself, which I think it a little frightening right now.  Many a man would be frightened by me.  He is confident in my ability to make it through this when I am not.  There have been times when my heart is so heavy and my strength almost nonexistent.  He believes I will be okay.  There have been many times where that has been enough for me.  I believe he can see something I obviously can't and he reassures me over and over and over again.  I have put so much weight on him to carry so much of my burden.  I have unloaded so, so much on him.  I have to dump it somewhere and there isn't a lot of places you can dump some of this crap.  I don't know how he carries it.  I don't know how he carries our family.  I don't know how he grieves and carries his own weight and mine.  I really don't know, but I love him.  I had no idea our relationship would ever be like this.  I never thought I could get to a point where I would need it, but I am grateful that he has risen far beyond what seems humanly possible.  I am grateful that when I need to be dependent on him, I can be.

I am happy to say that I am doing  better than when I wrote this.  I am less dependent and more interdependent with Jason now.  I am grateful for this experience because it has taught me that if I fall, he will be there.

Why we should be kind to our siblings

This was written by Katelyn after a rather frustrating trip to the park.  Trying to be creative in my parenting, I told she had to write a 2 page report explaining why we should be kind to our siblings.  I told her that if she didn't do a good job, she would have to redo it.  She was having more than a little trouble with it that day.  I was hoping that the 20 minutes it took her to write the report would be 20 minutes of peace for me.  I didn't know I would enjoy the report so much.  I've never read something like this from her before.  I post this, mostly, because it is so entertaining.  It was one of those moments when I realized she really does hear me.  It was quite a witty regurgitation of what I tell her all the time:

Why we should be kind to our siblings

                First off, we are stuck with our siblings forever.  And if you hate your siblings, too bad!  You will be living with them 24/7 for the rest of your life until you go to college and get married.  You need to learn to like your siblings(and if you already do, good for you!), because you will be miserable if you don't.

                If you are kind to your siblings, they will probably be kind to you.  Sometimes I am very kind to Ethan, and he returns it.  Your younger siblings (like Lincoln) will probably always be stinkers, and there is nothing we can do about it.  But you should still be kind to them.  It will teach them to be kind.  And if you are the oldest, you need to set an example to your younger brothers/sisters. 

                It drives your Mom CRAZY if you and your brothers or sisters are fighting constantly.  I know it drives me crazy when Ethan and Lincoln are fighting and screaming and crying.  You really do need to respect them because (this doesn't seem true) you and your siblings could actually be best friends.  You just need to be kind to each other.  When you get into high school and you can't find any friends, Voila! Just go home and find your siblings.

                You also need to use a kind voice with your siblings, too.  Once you have said something, it's out.  NEVER  say something when you don't mean it.  It's lying, and it can hurt someone's feelings too.  You know the saying, "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never hurt me." Wrong!  Of course words can hurt you.  Really painful words can.  So don't say that you hate one of your siblings, because you don't!  You really don't!  Even if you think you do, you don't!

                This will also make your dear mom happy. No, thrilled.  Moms try so hard to make their kids be nice to each other.  And think of all they do for you.  Just think of it as returning the favor.  If you want your mom to be mad, shame on you!  How would you feel if your Mom wanted you to be mad?   Horrible, am I right?

                It hurts to have an older sibling or even a younger sibling be rude to you.  Everybody has been teased by a sibling, and I know that 99.999999999999 % of the people on earth don't like it.  I don't.  Ethan doesn't.  I don't think Lincoln does, or anyone else who's reading this.

                How would you like being in trouble or grounded all the time? Not my idea of a party.  So be kind.  It really pays off.  My dad and my uncle were brothers, and they never fought.  A miracle, right?  Wrong again!  No!  You can start being nice to your siblings today and end up like my dad and my uncle Justin.  You want to know how they turned out?  Terrific!!!  Every time they see each other, they're talking, kicking a soccer ball to each other, or throwing a Frisbee. 

                I would love if my brothers and I always got along like my dad and my uncle Justin.  I would really do anything to make that possible.  I bet your siblings would secretly like to be nice to you, but they are nervous to see how you react.  So YOU start it.  There is nothing you can't do.

(actually when I said that, I meant to your siblings. So don't go jumping off a cliff into a deep pool).

Why you should respect your parents

                I don't even know where to start.  There is a TON of things that your parents have done for you.  You want me to list them all? Ok.

                Mom: Takes care of us, does the laundry, does the dishes, drives us places, feeds us, cleans, bathes us, does fun activities with us, and pays for our sports and school.  SHE GAVE BIRTH TO US!!! What an amazing lady.

                Dad: goes to work, pays for our everything, plays with us when not busy, and finds cool movies for us.  HE BOUGHT OUR HOUSE!!!  What an amazing man.

                Just like kids, parents can get affected, too.  Use kind words with them.  And use them in a kind voice, otherwise they aren't technically kind words.  If you are nice to them, it will make them more eager to do fun activities with you.  If you are at a fun place, for example, Hang time, and you are rude there, it will remind your parents when the next time they feel like going, they'll remember that they didn't have a good experience last time, and they won't take you.  Sad, right?

                Remember the list above?  (BTW there is more things than just  those things)  Well, all the stuff they've done for you, pay them back.  Pay them back with kindness, extra chores, and stuff like that.  It is the least you can do for them after all the stuff they have done for you.  Remember, if it wasn't for them you wouldn't be where you are right now.

                You can tell them anything. It is like a storage case for secrets.  Pretty sweet, huh?  Don't ever lie to your parents.  They need to know the truth.  Sometimes they can help with some of your problems if you tell them.  If your friend, for instance, says "Don't tell your Mom," tell your Mom.  She can help.

                Have you ever considered being nicer to your friends than to your siblings or your parents?  Why is that?  Our friends are just like our siblings, except they're our age.  Treat your parents and your siblings just like you would treat a friend.  It's that simple.  All you do is think, this is Emma, or, this is Ashton and you are nicer.

                You are with you family forever.  Why not find a way to be nice to them while at it.  Families are one of the most important blessings we have ever received and ever will receive.  I'm not going to say it again.  TREAT.  YOUR.  PARENTS.  AND.  YOUR.  SIBLINGS.  WITH.  RESPECT. 

                And keep this in mind:  Your family can be your best friends you will ever have.  Ever.  You might move or your friends might move away.  You won't see them again.  But at least you still have your family forever.  And ever and ever AND EVER!

                You love your family, even if you don't think you do.  You are an important part of your family, so don't fall away. 

written by Katelyn Gause on June 2, 2015.

To Mom.

(I didn't make her redo it).

"Starts"

Now that summer is here and my kids are home from school, I have less time to write my thoughts down; at least in a way that someone could understand them. My kids require the energy that I have, so I haven't been writing very much lately. When I do get some quiet time, I am usually too exhausted to figure out how to put my feelings into words.  Writing this blog has been very therapeutic for me and I feel I could use a little more therapy right now.  I'm surprised how much mental and emotional energy it takes to bring the thoughts and feelings I have swirling inside my heart and head, to the surface and articulate them.  But I have found that drawing those things out, has been the best thing for me.  

I have so many of what I call "blog starts:" partial writings, but not a lot of blog ends. I go back and discard some "starts" because they don't  make sense to me anymore or don't warrant the strength it would take to finish them. But I don't see it as a waste of time.  It was useful in the moment.  When I went on my trip, I thought  I would finish a lot of my blog starts, but instead, I just came home with a whole slew of new ones.  Being in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people has a way of getting your thoughts stirring.  

7 months

It has been 7 months since Eli was born.  Our last month marker seems like a really long time ago.  I'm not sure why.  I was really geared up for the 6 month mark; it felt so important for some reason.  This one was easier for me to take in.  I felt more gratitude today and less pain.  It was a peaceful and reflective day. In some ways I felt relief as I looked back on previous months....relief that somehow we made it through the first months alive.  

I was very grateful for the token of love that Eli's cousins left on his grave.  I'm not sure why it touched me so deeply; I guess I felt someone else's love for him.  I felt that he has a place in not just my heart, but aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparent's and friends hearts as well.  This is tremendously helpful to me.  I am grateful for his connection to other people in my family.

A foreign country

Back in probably December-ish time me and Jason read a book called:

Healing a Parent's Grieving Heart: 100 practical ideas after your child dies.

Not really a book your would add to your recreational reading list, but was a great read for us.  It was very short and concise written with 1 new idea per page, followed by bullet points.  At the time, my brain wouldn't have been able to digest much, so it was perfect and opened up a lot of conversation between me and Jason. There was one idea; number 31.  It stated: Get away from it all.  One of the bullet points said:

I remember laughing and thinking, "Oh, okay....I'll just visit a foreign county."  Me and Jason aren't big travelers.  I have only ever been out of the country to cross the Mexican and Canadian borders for a few hours each.  I just thought it was so laughable at the time.

Weeeeeelllllllll.... Jason earned a trip through his work to go on a cruise to Europe, so I guess it was a good idea after all.  We were gone for 10 days and visited England, Belgium, Denmark, and Norway.  We were supposed to visit Sweden, but it didn't work out : (

I have a lot to say about the trip, but I'll keep it simple for tonight.

Favorite country: Belgium

Favorite food:  Belgium waffles and Belgium chocolate and the chicken sandwich in Norway and the chocolate ganache on the airplane (weird, right?) and all the dairy that could be found in Europe. All of it. There was a lot of good food.

AND...

AND, just to be sure...

And, of course...

Jason said it perfectly when he explained that Belgium chocolate is a form of currency for me.

Favorite site: Church of our Lady in Copenhagen, Denmark.  It holds the original Christus sculpture
and sculptures of the 12 apostles.

In a talk by Boyd K. Packer in 2008, he talks about a visit that Spencer W. Kimball made to this church and his conversation with a custodian that worked there: The Twelve

Favorite sound: The bells in Belgium and silence.