Important things

Important things to have in your home:

Provo Tabernacle part 1

The Provo Tabernacle caught on fire a little over four years ago. Almost all of the interior was destroyed leaving a blackened shell of the original 1898 beauty.  At first, I wondered why this would happen.  I wondered why everything had to be destroyed like that.  There was so much history and personal memories that me and Jason have from that building.  Jason heard Elder Maxwell speak from the pulpit there the same day he received the Melchizedek priesthood.  He said that it felt personal to him when it was burned....like part of his past had gone up in flames.  I think a lot of people felt that way.

I feel God trying to help me understand something about my own life as I think about this seeming tragedy.  I don't mean to compare our family to the Provo tabernacle in an attempt to exalt us, but I have been able to draw parallels to my own life.

After Eli died our world went up in flames.  Most of the flames have gone out, but there are a few hot spots here and there. It happened suddenly...just like a fire usually does. I look around at what was left and it looks dark and sickening.  I thought, "Why would this happen?" We were doing okay.  There were beautiful things happening in our little tabernacle and we were really progressing.  It's not like we were a bar or a shady corner store.  We wanted good things in our "tabernacle" and invited them in.  Why did you burn it down?  All of that beauty is blackness now.  How can it ever be the same?  How can I ever be the same?  How can this possibly be better for me?  I have been very afraid that if even a small storm comes my way, the exterior will crumble.  There isn't much holding it together.  There would be no way to rebuild it.  It would be finished.

I thought when Eli died it would feel more like a room of the building was burned down. We would quickly put out the fire. It would still be painful.  We would still grieve over that beautiful little room that wasn't meant to stay the same, but it would be a room on the exterior of the building.  We might have a little smoke damage, but it wouldn't be destroyed.  I had no idea that Eli's room was in the middle of the building and that the whole place would burn down.  I was even ready with some fire hoses, but the fire was too intense.  It was too consuming.

 I have felt like I am a shell of what I once was.  I was surprised to feel this way after Eli died...really after we buried him.  I feel like part of me died and was buried along with him.  I thought that mothering my other children would save me, but it was the last thing I wanted to do.  I didn't feel capable or even have a desire to.  I feel like some of the foundation is left in me, but there is a lot of ash and rubble.  And the foundation has been rocked violently.

And here's the part that I wasn't totally prepared for:

We are in a very real battle. This life isn't for fun and pleasure. It is a very real battle between good and evil.  We are in the winding up scenes of the earth and the gloves are coming off.  We are in the last few minutes of the game.  It is intense and the opposing team doesn't play by the rules.  They aren't nice. They take cheap shots and persistently go after anyone on God's team.  I have felt this power more powerfully than ever before in my life.  It is thick and dark and almost tangible.  It isn't a figment of my imagination...that's for sure.  

I was in my basement a couple of weeks ago.  It was early in the morning and was dark and cold outside.  I knew that this assault against me wasn't the same as I have felt in earlier times.  It wasn't insidious or subtle.  It was malicious and blatant.  It makes sense.  My "tabernacle" has burned down.  If you are in a battle, when would be the best time to go after a stronghold?  When the walls are down.  When the defenses are minimal. You go in with heavy artillery.  You use every weapon you have.  You don't hide behind the bushes because you don't care who sees you now.  You are going in while your chances of destroying are as good as they have ever been.  

If you have ever had a weakness or insecurity or past experience that hasn't been dealt with, it will come out when the walls are gone.  You will feel more vulnerable and exposed than you ever have because you are.

And if Satan waits until the walls start to go back up, his chances will diminish because when they build the building up again...it's going to be even harder to penetrate. So, now is his chance to attack.  You better believe this is how Satan works.

I think people think that we are really sad that Eli is gone.  We are.  People probably I am holding a sweet little blanket and crying.  I am.  But there is  a whole lot more going on.  Every problem and struggle and insecurity is being attacked with full force.

There is a difference between sadness and despair.  Sadness comes from Eli being gone.  Despair comes when the darkness closes in.  You try to gather strength to fight back, but it doesn't come as readily as it did before; at least not from inside yourself. There is a difference between sorrow and darkness.  Sorrow is wrenching, but darkness is scary.  So I feel sadness and sorrow from being separated from Eli.  But I feel darkness and despair, at times, because of the battle being waged against me. I can't imagine anyone going through a horrific event and not having this happen to them.  They may not recognize who or what it is, but it is happening.  I think its hard to distinguish between Godly sorrow and despair at times.  They aren't the same thing, but when you are in the smoke, it is hard to separate them. I feel like I can deal with the sorrow and longing...terrible as it is.  But the battle is whole different thing.

For some reason, I feel like the pile of ash is all my responsibility.  I feel like I have to rebuild it myself.  I know how illogical that is.  It isn't like I "caused" the fire.  Even if we do "cause" the fire, doing it ourselves was never God's plan.  Jesus Christ already came a paid the price for us... because it was virtually impossible to do it ourselves.  But despite this knowledge, I look around and think, who in the world would want to set foot in here.  Especially when you could go to a different building that has a heater on and some reruns of Psych?  This place isn't feeling fun or pleasurable.  So when people tell me they WANT to be here, a part of me doesn't believe him. I don't want to be here, but I don't have a choice.  You do have a choice.  You don't have to be here. God is trying to help me understand this.  I am a slow learner.  It's not totally my fault.

The thing that saves me is that I already know who will win the battle.  We don't have to wonder if we are outmatched or outgunned; even, and especially when, our tabernacles are destroyed. We don't have to recoil in fear (even though I do sometimes...  I'm trying to sound like a brave soldier even though, sometimes, I'm hiding in a dark corner of the rubble hoping the enemy will just go away and let me clean up my mess in peace.)  God has promised to send people to our rescue.  He has promised to send people to shield and protect us if we need a little rest from the battle.  They will stand in front of you with their shield and take the heat for a minute so you can regroup.  This is absolutely true and has happened to me.  For some reason, I thought I had to do this myself.  The bullets and arrows started raining down and I wondered how I would ever protect myself....I felt weak from the burning of the fire and wondered why I had to fight the battle now....now that Eli was gone.  Wouldn't I be spared from the battle because I had given all I had to God?  Wouldn't he quench the fire quicker and send the opposing army away...because he surely has power to do that.  I thought I would be spared for some reason.  That was never a conscious thought, but it must have been there because I feel really picked on.

It's like ALL those movies with a depiction of a war or battle.  The "good" guys seem to be holding their own, but about 3/4 into the fight, things take a turn for the worst.  Things look hopeless and you fear they will be defeated.  You want them to win so badly, but the odds are against them and they are beginning to lose faith.  Then, the reinforcements come and save the day.  You weren't expecting them, but if they didn't come, you would be dead.  I have felt that. Only, this battle isn't in a movie.  It's real and its the only battle that matters in the end.  And some people are walking around, picking their noses, and don't even realize that we are at war.  It's probably all those people who are in the heated building watching reruns of Psych.

I have people ask me, "How are you doing?"  In what context? In the context of a blackened building and having my leg stuck under some rubble?  Well... I feel better than yesterday when my torso was stuck under the rubble, but it's still pretty precarious in here.  It you are asking me in THAT context I can give you an honest answer...but if you have no idea where I am, I don't know what to say to you. If there are people right next to me helping defend the fortress and are fighting off the enemy, I seem to be able to answer them most of the time.  If people are yelling at me from the safe outskirts of the building, I don't have enough energy to yell that far.  I'm not necessarily upset that you're not in here.  I just don't have the wherewithal to answer everyone...not until I am on safer ground.  

The right question

Life is all about asking the right questions.  We get so wrapped up in getting the right answers to the wrong questions.  The truly right answer will follow the asking of the right question.

Lincoln

Lincoln is my best little buddy right now.  He was such a healing balm for me during my pregnancy and has started to be again.  He loves me no matter what.  He doesn't look at my hair that hasn't been fixed in three days or that fact that I never wear makeup anymore.  He isn't nervous to give me an extra hug if he feels like it.  He doesn't complain when he eats pretzels and grape juice all day.  He just loves me and lets me start fresh each day.  I don't have to explain my misdeeds or bizarre behavior the previous day.  I don't have to fake it for him or put on a front for him...not that I do that a whole lot anyways...He gets excited about everything...samples at Costco, playing with old boxes, finding a rock.  And best of all... he loves music.  It speaks to his big soul.  He loves to hear it LOUD in the car.  It is such a blessing to have him right now.

He has been pretty unaffected by Eli and his death.  He didn't know that babies normally come home from the hospital, so it didn't feel abnormal to him when Eli didn't.  He talks about Eli and accepts our explanations that Eli WAS at the hospital and now lives in heaven with Jesus.  He also accepts that Eli is at the cemetery. I thought he might get confused with all the places we say he is, but he just accepts what we say.  A few weeks ago I told him that we were going to go see Eli.  He asked if we were going to the hospital.  (I so wished we were).  I told him we were going to the cemetery to see him.  He also, somehow, accepts that the patch of grass on Eli's grave is somehow Eli.  He doesn't question it.  During Eli's burial services, Lincoln was running back and forth on the fake grass right by Eli's casket.  He was spilling his pretzels all over. He had no idea what was happening.  It didn't bother me.  I thought it true to form for Lincoln, and I'm sure Eli liked that.  He runs all over when we go to the cemetery.  I have thought I should teach him "cemetery etiquette," and have tried a little, but I think that a little boy running around is a beautiful thing...and I know Eli would prefer that to a somber group of people.  

A day for miracles

The 5th is a day for miracle babies.  Eli was born on the 5th.  My nephew, Grayson, was born on the 5th.  Both of them are miracles.  You may wonder why I call Eli a miracle...didn't he die?  A miracle has so much more to do with God giving us great things than is has to do with life and death.  A miracle is a beautiful, profound and, sometimes, an unexplainable way that God speaks to us.  

Eli was definitely a miracle.  He was the result of much fasting and prayer.  He was able to fulfill his mission here because of the prayers offered in our family's behalf.  He has taught me so much and continues to teach me all the time.  He is connected to me in a more powerful way than flesh and blood.  His spirit can reach my spirit.  It is the strongest kind of bond.  

Grayson was born September 5th.  He is a miracle as well.  He came about because of in vitro. Grayson had a twin, who died in utero.  He was born after much fasting and prayer and waiting and waiting and waiting...  He was meant to be here at this time.  He is a miracle.  

Grayson wasn't supposed to be born on the 5th.  He was supposed to be born on the 9th.  But, somehow, the schedule was changed, and he arrived on the 5th.

I was worried about having Eli on the 5th.  We had our ultrasound October 28th and Dr. D wanted to induce me ASAP.  I had always wanted to carry Eli as long as possible. She reluctantly allowed us to wait until Ethan's birthday was over (November 1), but the first day Dr. T was available was the 5th.  He wouldn't be available again until the 12th.  I knew we had to do it the 5th.   I was 37 weeks and 5 days.  It didn't seem long enough.  I stressed over the schedule of my doctor.  I had the spirit whisper to me that God was in control of their schedules.  Eli was coming exactly when he was supposed to. So, two cousins, two miracles, two 5th's.

2 months

Eli was born 2 months ago today.  The "birthday" thing has taken me a little while to figure out.  I don't want to say he would have been 2 months old today, because that just isn't true.  He isn't here and he was never meant to be here, so imagining a 2 month old does a lot more harm than good (as you can imagine...).

But Eli was born 2 months ago today.  He became an official part of our family.  He received his mortal body as an essential step to his eternal progression.  It is 2 months closer to when I will see him again.  It is the his birthday in so many senses of the word, and this day matters to us and to him.

I was talking to Jason tonight and telling him how I wanted to do everything again.  Not because I regret anything...but just to have the experience again.  I want to do it over and over and over.  I think I would do it all the same...but maybe record a little more of it.  

We all wear our Team G shirts on the 5th of every month.  We are working on a name for this day...maybe "Team G" day...not sure yet.  I'm not sure what we will do each month, but today it felt right for each of us to write Eli a letter and send it up to him with a white balloon.  I believe that Eli literally receives the messages we send to him.  I have thought a great deal about what happens to what we write down (to him and in general).  It can't be lost when we die.  It is written somewhere in heaven.  That is just my opinion...hopefully someone in heaven recorded my whole pregnancy and my 4 hours and 51 precious minutes with Eli.  I will be expecting a copy of this when I die.  Me and Eli will be watching and reading it together. 

We went to the cemetery to send him our letters.  The sunset was beautiful...painted just for us on this special day. We felt close to him.

I have hesitated to post pictures of the cemetery.  I'm not sure why.  It is a very sacred place... like the temple to me.  It is easy to feel Eli there.  I hope you can sense the sacredness of this place too.

The amazing thing is that I did not edit the sunset pics at all...

physical feeling of loss

I was talking with my friend, JaLaine, the other day.  She recently lost her baby, Laena.  She was saying that things seem to take longer in the morning (getting ready, etc).  I liked her analysis of this.  She said that when she woke up, her body was sad.  It wasn't because she had necessarily recalled anything.  Her body just felt a perpetual sadness and refused to move as it once had.  I feel that sadness...waking and sleeping and most of the time in between.  It is heavier at times than other times, but it is always there.  It is a void that makes your body feel heavy.

In my previous experiences having babies, I always felt a sense of loss after delivering a baby.  It was surprising to me when I had Katelyn.  I felt a need to be near her, usually holding her all the time for a few months.  That worked out just fine because she constantly needed to be held, and I didn't have any other children to take care of.  I couldn't figure out why I felt that way, but it was undeniable.  As I had Ethan and Lincoln I realized that I felt a sense of loss because they were no longer inside me.  Part of me was gone.  It was okay, because I could just pick them up and fill that void.  I wanted them close to me; against my chest or nursing was the best way to fill the void.  There was a physical sensation of loss, but also a handy way to soothe it.

After identifying this pattern, I realized that when Eli was gone it would be quite horrific.  I already feel a sense of loss when I have a baby, so what is going to happen when I have a baby and he dies? It is quite a problem.

I woke up one morning several weeks ago and laid in bed... awake.  I felt the left side of my chest caving in.  It felt like someone had taken a very large ice cream scoop and dug out part of my chest.  I'm totally serious when I describe this.  It feels very physical.  I had felt this feeling many times before that day, but it was as intense as it had ever been.  I honestly thought that if I moved my body at all, it would cause more pain in my chest, so I laid there, motionless, for quite some time.  I kept hoping I could find some sort of putty to fill in the hole.  It felt physical enough that putty or caulk seemed like a viable option.

It's interesting, because I held Eli in one specific spot on my chest.  I was hooked up to IV's and a blood pressure cuff, so I had to hold him on my left side.  I normally don't hold a baby on that side.  But, that is where I held him.  That is where my body aches.  I think my spirit must ache for him.  I have heard of this "chest caving in" or "aching arms" feeling.  I didn't realize it was quite literal.  My arms don't ache, but my chest does.

Do you think if I held another baby, just like I held Eli, the ache would go away?

Well, there is an inordinate amount of babies around here, so I thought I would try out my hypothesis.  I waited until my chest was really aching to try it because I thought it would be easier to tell what was happening.  It didn't work. In fact, it felt really weird to hold another baby in that same place.  It was like I was trying to jam the wrong puzzle piece in the right spot.  It was very unpleasant.  I guess that is Eli's spot.  I will keep it safe for him until I hold him again.