Moments...

I found myself with a strange yearning as December started this year. I began to see beautiful newborn babies everywhere I looked. And I wanted to snatch them up, and cuddle them and rock them, smell their hair and bury my face in their soft cheeks. This is very out of my normal so I thought a lot about what I might have been looking for in these feelings. It was as I sat, for the first quiet moment in weeks, at the relief society program that I knew that it was the simple peace that I had always felt as I spent those quiet moments, sometimes forced in the middle of the night, alone by myself with my own little babies. I love the celebration of Christ as a baby during this season. 5 years ago I had my own Christmas baby on the way. She was due on Christmas day but as I miserably plodded into my doctor’s office a few weeks before, he told me that I had been walking around at an 8 and would be having a baby that day. I was far away from my home. I didn’t have my mother close by to call to take care of my other girls. I was in a strained marriage and felt so uncertain about so many things at that time and didn’t really feel any support from him but I knew that this baby was meant to come at that time and meant to be mine. My other deliveries had been easy. They were routine and quick and I loved being able to finally have a baby in my arms. But this one was different. I only remember staring at the clock on the wall as hours passed by. The tick-tock was the only sound I could tolerate. I cannot imagine how Mary must have felt as she lay down in a dirty corner of a stable, knowing what would imminently be required of her, and that she would do it in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers. I feel an empathy that I know goes beyond an measure of my understanding for this young girl who was given what must have seemed an insurmountable task and she responded with a faith I can’t comprehend, trusting that God knew her worth and that He would provide for the means for her to accomplish the mission she had been given of bring the Savior of the world into His earthly ministry. When the time finally came for me to begin the work of bringing my own baby into the world I can only remember thinking “This is too hard.” I had done this twice before, it shouldn’t have felt like that. After hours of pushing and no progress I thought, I just can’t. I cannot keep going. This is too hard. I had no hand to hold. I had no cheerleaders. I trusted my doctor and the nurses who surrounded me but I so strongly felt that I would not be able to do what they needed me to do. “This is too hard.” And then the moment that should have been immense relief only brought panic as I knew immediately that something was not right. The tears couldn’t be stopped even as they reassured me that it was going to be okay. My baby was whisked away and I felt my heart shatter at the distance put between me and the spirit I had held so close for months. The frenzy in the room increased as they attempted to repair the damage done by an almost 11 pound baby. I began to go in and out of consciousness and when I fully woke up again the room was dark and quiet. I heard the ticking of the clock again and the panic of the night came on as I remembered what had happened. Then I saw the shadow in the corner of my hospital room. My doctor had pulled a small desk into the room and was quietly making notes. I would realize later that he had been there for 3 hours. In the hundreds of deliveries I had worked in labor and delivery, I don’t think I had ever seen a doctor pause more than 15 minutes after a birth before running out the door. My condition didn’t merit him staying, the bleeding had stopped and my body just needed rest but I believe he saw the heart of a young, worried mother and did not want me to wake up in an empty room. As Mary tucked her newborn baby in and the fatigue she must have been shouldering bore down, I can imagine her relief as God sent those he knew would go with haste to bring joy to those first few hours of Christ’s life. The scriptures tell us how Mary took all this in, quietly with grace. She had to be worried knowing all that would be required of her role. She had already endured so much. Her reputation, her impending marriage, all could have been ruined and lost, yet Mary never doubted. She only worried she would fail the child being placed in her care. The power given to this one woman as she became a mother was probably not realized by her all at once. I don’t know if our human minds and temporal understanding can handle all that may be asked of us to endure sometimes. The next morning I was finally given my cell phone again and I called my mother. I had spent the night hearing the overwhelming list of challenges my baby was dealing with and again felt myself thinking, “This is too hard.” I didn’t know if she would be okay. How would I take care of my other girls while trying to take care of her. The worries were completely overtaking me and the doubt was crippling. I needed so badly to have that feeling of loneliness dissipate. I simply said hello and heard my mother start to cry on the other end of the line. My mom is very composed under pressure and the emotion wasn’t what I expected. She quietly choked out, “Heather, we almost lost you.”

In that simple sentence my entire perspective changed. I had only been thinking of all the external problems coming at us at that time. I had shriveled as I focused only on the trials still looming. But in that sentence I realized without any shred of doubt that God had asked me to come to Him in all things. He was there. He was taking me and helping to make me what he would need me to be. He had protected me and he had been there, suffering with me, but he knew the power that would come as I realized that.

We often marvel that our king would begin his life in a dirty, murky stable surrounded by livestock with only a trough to be laid in. But I often think about poor Mary, being so far from home and in such a dire place, alone bringing her baby into this world. She had to struggle with the loneliness of her task, but seeing the peace she always seemed to show leads me to believe that she had also found the strength that comes when you have to be so utterly dependent on the Lord. How else could she have raised the Savior, the only person who would ever truly experience true loneliness on this earth. Without knowing the importance of her mission how could she have helped prepare him for his? She had to endure some degree of the suffering her son would go through as it would be necessary of her to support Him, through persecution and disdain. There is nothing like a mother’s broken heart. But feelings like that are what open us up to allowing God to let us know how strong we can be through him. It causes us to be vulnerable enough to allow his fortifications to come in and build us up to what we are truly capable of being. It is when focusing on Him and reaching for his outstretched hand, that we can walk on the water with Him and not be sunk in our storms.    

Angels watched as Mary changed God’s diaper. The universe watched with wonder as the Almighty learned to walk. Children played in the street with him. Jesus may have had bad skin. He may have been tone-deaf. Perhaps the girl down the street had a crush on him. One thing is for sure: He was, while completely divine, completely human. For thirty-three years he would feel everything  that you or I have ever felt. He felt weak. He grew weary. He was afraid of failure. He was susceptible to wooing women. He got colds, he burped, he got his feelings hurt. His feet got tired and his head ached.

To think of Jesus in that light is almost uncomfortable. It is much easier to keep humanity out of it. Clean the manure from around the manger. Wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Pretend he never snored or blew his nose or hit his thumb with a hammer. He’s easier to stomach that way. There is something about keeping him divine that keeps him distant, packaged, predictable. But don’t do that. Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him into the mire and muck of our world. For only if we let him in can he pull us out. Listen to him. Love your neighbor was spoken by a man whose neighbors tried to kill him. The challenge to leave family for the gospel was issued by one who kissed his mother good-bye in the doorway. Pray for those who persecute you came from lips that would soon be begging God to forgive his murderers. I am with you always are the words of a God who in one instant did the impossible to make it all possible for you and me. It all happened in a moment, and in my life as in Mary’s, the power that can be found in one miraculous moment can be the beginning of finding our relationship with God and finding the purpose and power of our life as only He can intend. 

Broken

I’m not sure why I think I am the exception. I thought I had felt the sting before. It seems to be an undulating staircase that ever so slowly and subtly pulls me down further and further. When I think the worst has hit there is just more waiting. Another ruling today. Why can’t I tell my story. I don’t know the players. I don’t understand the game. I am yet again crushed by a flawed system that doesn’t allow for any naive moves from an untrained participant. I thought I had found some reprieve but someone more cunning than me knew how to outplay it. And when I stood up for my rights. When I asked to be recognized as a mother, I was told to sit down and be quiet, I would just make them mad…and then the punishment came, More money I don’t have. I didn’t do the right things. I should have had help. I should have played by their rules but I thought it wasn’t necessary. They proved to me it is. Drag you down…and I just keep thinking, this must be it. This is the time I break. This is the time the pieces shatter and don’t get put back again. My hands are numb as I type this. I moved from my spot on the floor just long enough to take the kids to storytime and get them from school. I am so scared to do anything else. The tears come and go. I’m grateful today that my kids have been more clingy than usual. I desperately needed them close. But now they are gone as Wednesdays always come. And I just keep thinking, broken…I tried even harder the last few months to invite Christ into ALL of my relationships. And I knew the most important to work on was with my x. He has caused so much disruption to so many innocent people. My children were spending 4 hours in the car each week because we had to meet at the police station. They were late to school and church and every day was a fight. If the police weren’t at the parking lot he was mean and contentious. I had asked for BM’s shoes back, he had kept 2 of her 3 pairs, and he wouldn’t let them bring them home. He ignored me until I said please and then berated me so loudly about not having manners that a lady in the parking lot stopped and walked over. Last year I didn’t make him bring the girls home for Easter, even though I was entitled to the holiday because they had a trip planned. This year we had to cancel our spring break trip because the same courtesy isn’t extended. It was his birthday on Sunday. We each get to celebrate our birthdays with the kids. It would be the fourth Sunday the girls missed in a row. I was struggling with that. I offered an earlier pick-up time from the house so that I could fulfill my calling and because the most important part of the Sabbath is worshiping my Lord and I didn’t want to be late to church. He refused and told me pick up was at the police station. I had decided early that morning that I was going to have a good Sunday. I love Sundays. They are a day of beauty to me. I think happy things and get so excited to go to church. And it feels broken when the girls aren’t there. But I still wanted to find the beauty in the day. I was going to act as if I was meeting the Savior and giving him the 3 little spirits I wanted so badly to keep with me. Treat him like the Savior would had become my mantra. So that meant they would be happy. We had a yummy breakfast, I made sure their hair was combed. Their faces were clean. Their teeth brushed and beds made. This is not the condition they are in when it is Monday morning and they are coming home for school. And they had the biggest smiles I could get as we drove and sang Saturday’s Warrior in the car. And I got a sarcastic text as I drove away about how I was so easy to work with…don’t let it break you…I know that I can’t control anyone else’s actions. And I know that it is so much better for me when I choose an attitude of joy over one of revenge. I find my strength in the words of the scriptures. I find a life line in those around me who offer advice, and friendship and support and love. I see God’s hand in every moment of every day. And maybe that was where I was still lacking. Maybe I was hiding behind strength. Maybe I was only acknowledging the moments where I felt on top of everything. Those moments are good too. We need to have times when we become bigger than we think we can be. We need times when we see the size of the fight God puts in our hearts. We have to stand for what we know, we have to fly our title of liberty and push back against the forces that threaten us. But maybe it isn’t always us against them. Maybe the good versus evil is just another tool of the adversary to distract us from the refining of ourselves that God is trying to create. How can I expect him to fortify me when I am pointing and shouting, "but that is bad, that is wrong! that over there is at fault." Take away the bad guy, take away the darkness. I know you can do it. I know you are powerful. I know that you have blessed me with everything I have. And I know I don’t deserve it. I am playing nice and it’s hard and now you protect me.

But today He says, I will let you break.

Because it is only then that you will let me heal you my child.

I knew where my testimony stood. I knew where my salvation came from. I knew my source of peace. But I wasn’t willing to promise Him that I needed it. As a parent I know that there is no other pain like watching your child suffer. I listened to BK tell me that no one would play with her at recess and cried and cried until all my tears ran out, I don't want them to hurt. I hate Easter. I hate it because I hate hearing about the suffering Jesus had to endure. And I hate when I hear about God, retreating to his darkest corner of his universe because he couldn’t bear to see his Son go through pain he should never had to have suffered, and cry out in agony when he had to leave him to do it alone. I was reminded today by someone that He already knows my pain. He has gone through it. But He doesn’t leave me alone. He comes to my desperate cries, finds my broken soul, picks up all the pieces because he created them and says again, “Now my child. Now, I can heal you.” 

I sit looking at 37 black wood tiles on the wall of my living room. They were cut out by hand, sanded one by one and each bear a letter that altogether spell out the names of each member of our family. It was an extensive amount of work put in by a man who has no idea how much his efforts to bond our family run deep. The kids were thrilled to see it hung on the wall and talked about how much we each needed one another, if any piece were missing it would mess up the others and they talked about the day we got married and how our lives are now. They even made their own scrabble family version with our game this morning. I had stared at that wall early one morning, a day when I was feeling fearful about the things to come, and I knew that what mattered was right there. It is firm and it everlasting. No force of evil in any form can take that from me if I fight for it. That is when you need to be loud. That is when you need to protect your flock. For that is where my heart is.

And for whatever reason God sees fit that now I needed to be quiet. He is refining me to be ready for what He needs me to be. Perhaps one day the fight will be bigger than I could have handled, or maybe sometime I will finally be able to help someone else who is falling behind. I want to be ready for any of it. But today I will wait for Him. I will know that I need His healing. I will cry and I will beg and I will hurt and I will let Him start to heal. Scar tissue creates the strongest bond our skin can form. It comes from trauma, it is the only way. But I will let Him in now. I cannot do it without his healing power. He will “turn my mourning into joy, and will comfort them, and make them rejoice from their sorrow…I have satiated the weary soul, and I have replenished every sorrowful soul.” I have to make my will align with his. I have to allow him the room to take me and make me what he knows I need to be. So I will let him dry the endless tears, “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes…neither shall there be any more pain.” Faith and hope will replace heartache. We “should suffer no manner of afflictions, save it were swallowed up in the joy of Christ.” That joy will come. That healing is His and mine will come. I won’t remain broken.

They probably barely weighed more than the huge court file I had flung over my shoulder. 3 tiny women standing on the other side of a metal detector. Strong and silent and meaning more to me than even I knew at the time. I had finally asked for what I should have a long time ago and opened up the raw mess of this emotional turmoil of divorce and admitted it was too much for me. Maybe it was a blessing to be pushed past the point of tolerance, to attack the only piece of this that I give any real importance to which is my girls, because it then became too big for just me to fight for. But I had no idea how much having this backing in my corner would mean. These were women who had taken care of me my entire life, played with me, laughed with me and been right where I needed them when I needed them countless times before. And now they stood here, behind me once again. Not worried about the cost or the inconvenience or even the fear and ugliness that can come from being in court. I had asked and they were there. And then they picked up the fight for me. They wanted to stand where they were, they wanted those who were coming to know what they were doing. This was not some game that was to be played behind closed doors and in moody text messages. They were affecting lives and now they would have to answer for it. Cowards do things in secret, and we weren't playing that game anymore. In a last ditch effort to bully their way through this they pulled me into a room to "talk." They had slithered and sidled through the crowd that had ridden up in the elevator with them, my sister, more aunts, grandma, parents and others. It was a scene that I will certainly never forget. Once in the room they again offered nothing. No solutions, it was just contempt. After it became quickly evident that they had nothing to actually say, and were just trying to intimidate a coercion out of me, I again didn't have to fight alone. Two of the men who have done more for me in my life were there, pushed past their own point of tolerance. My dad has seen me go through all of my ups and downs in life. He personally witnessed and experienced so much of the sabotage and destruction my x caused. He spent so many hours talking, listening, crying and taking care of so much I needed. He has never asked for recognition or reward in any of it. He is the reason why I knew men should be better. And the other man is better than I could have ever thought. And he is who I will look for and lean on for the rest of forever. He wasn't going to allow that to happen that day, and called out the lawyer trying to take advantage of someone she had been able to push around before. I am endlessly grateful for him. We listened in the courtroom to two cases before us. It is all the same, "I want more stuff, I want more money, I want to punish you because that will somehow make me feel better about my mistakes and the lacking I feel in my own life." It won't. And they know that, but since they won't admit it ti themselves we go back again and again and again. They say there is no victimless sin and it is a shame that he can do this over and over. Every time he gets mad, or bored, or questioned on his own behavior he can turn it around and pull my family and our world down into his mess. But that day as we took our seats at the two tables, with the dusty microphone and water rings from the leaking plastic pitcher, I was fine. I calmly spread out my papers, knowing that it is easy to defend an honest life, lived with good intentions. I know I'm not the best mom in the world. I wasn't even close to being the tenth best mom in that room. But because of the women who were there, I knew the power that a righteous mother could command. And I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that when I needed to ask for it that God would defend that role when it is questioned. I didn't have to frantically shuffle my papers that day, I didn't have to question what I had written, I didn't have to try and remember what lies I had told, or what defense I had to spin for myself. I just told about my life, because this is simply who I am and what I do. Every minute of every day, I am a mom. It is so easy to be strong when you are defending your most important treasures. I had gone into that day knowing that I would refuse to be dismissed. My value as a mother was in question and the consequences were too important to have that degraded. I would not shrink in my duties just because some small minded brat was not getting his way on his demands. What I was doing had so much more meaning and the time had come to stand up for that. But I didn't have to do much. There were good people there, who care about children, and since that was what I was defending it felt very good to be backed up in that. The endless list that he and his mother had written was dismissed as the immature drivel that it was. They stammered and stumbled, attempting to vilify me. The solutions I had provided in an attempt to improve our situation were brought into play and each time someone tried to use my kids as pawns or move another person's role as more valuable than that of a parent, it was quickly stopped. The x and those who manipulate were told to stop playing games and to begin acting like adults, to face the reality of being a divorced family and handle the consequences maturely. They are not above the rules, just like everybody else they would be required to play along.
I have always struggled with the feelings being around lawyers and in the courtroom bring to me. I didn't understand why I couldn't control the physical pains of discomfort that came when I was in that environment. But as I sat in my place of refuge, as far removed from the world as I can get, a few days earlier I realized it was because I had tried to move myself and my life as far from the yuckiness of the world as we could get it. I don't want to be anywhere that is so easily influenced by the adversary. And that is why these places are such a source of discomfort to me. But the room that day was different. Each of those people in my life had prepared themselves so faithfully to stand behind me and the girls and were so filled with the spirit that it literally changed that room. I had been there many times before and that day it was a different place. And that change permeated so deeply that I know it affected the events of that day. There were too many small things that happened to deny that it was absolutely under the control of God's hand. I only glanced over my shoulder to the side of the room once. I don't think I could have handled myself if I had turned all the way around. There is power in a faithful person. There is strength in a righteous family. That room was filled with people I could see and more that I can't wait to see again. My burden was made lighter that day by sharing my yoke with so many who were more than willing to bear up my struggling and walk with me when I needed them.
I was on a pioneer trek a few years ago. I was barely older than most of the kids I had been given charge of. My daughters on that trip were young and small. They had struggled with so many different things that week and then we were asked to pull our handcart up a hill, in sand a foot deep by ourselves. I was terrified, again I was surrounded by skinny women being asked to accomplish insurmountable tasks. But they were willing so we sang a chorus of "Carry on my wayward son..." and we pulled as hard as we could and they were adamant about not having help in their task. My heart broke as I watched my little girl next to me struggle with each step as she gave absolutely everything she had to barely move our wagon inches. I didn't even know I was silently crying until I saw the trail of mud the drips had left on my forearms. I knew I had to give more than I felt I could if we were going to keep going at all. I don't know how long we pushed or how far we actually traveled. I knew that I wasn't going to make it much further when I felt a very sudden and abrupt lurch forward. My handle fell slack as my efforts no longer kept up with the push from behind the cart. The boys from our family had stood on the hill and watched with difficulty as we went by. When they couldn't stand it any longer they had broke through the crowd and without permission caught up to us, put their heads down and pushed with all their might as soon as they could reach us. They took the weight and they took it on themselves, I learned that day what it means to really need the help of others. I cried harder as my oldest son pried my stuck fingers off the handle and said, "Let me take this Ma, you take a rest."
There were no tears as I happily walked out of that room, hugs and relief were everywhere. Finally some peace, even though it lasted a short moment, it was such a blessing that I can't even start to express the gratitude I felt that day.
That night as we sat on the floor of our living room and enjoyed the the safety and security that comes when all of our family is in one room, without the gloom of court and custody hanging imminent as it had for weeks before, I was deeply moved as I began to picture each of the individuals who had prayed and fasted and expressed their love for us. It is true. Each of these people had knelt in prayer, believing that they were personally asking God to show His hand in my life. They believed this. It is true. It is how we can survive these trials we are asked to endure. It gives meaning to the hard and and to the menial tasks we have to accomplish. Many people actually expressed thanks for the chance to go through this with me as their own faith grew because they were willing to act on their beliefs. This is what it is about. It is about using these experiences to connect with God, to come closer to Christ and to learn to succor one another as He did, for that is how we will live when we are with Him again. Each soul is of such infinite worth and I am so grateful that mine is valued by this army of people who matter to me. I didn't know people cared. I thought it was better to try and handle it by myself, it is embarrassing and degrading, it is painful and it isn't something I wanted to put out as part of my life to people. But what I didn't know was how that didn't matter to any of them. They loved me for my bumps and bruises and scuffs and shortcomings. My Grandma said it simply when she just said, everybody has scars. And sometimes we need to share them with others to truly begin to heal. After the previous week I felt so battered and bent but I had been lifted up, not just because of the court hearing, but because of the blessing of knowing I was cared about. My dad had found his faith in dirt that week, and he knew that if God cared about something as simple as topsoil then he certainly cared about his son and daughters. He found God hand in his life and it helped to know He was always in mine.

Faith

She handed me the beautiful paper chain she had made in primary and sweetly said, "See Mom, it's just like the one you taught me about in your dream..." It was seven circles, all connected, each bearing the name of a member of our family carefully handwritten in her neat little writing, and two other links, stapled to her own circle that had the name of her father and his soon to be wife. And my heart melted, it was the perfect illustration of a scene we had worked very hard to get this little girl to understand as we watched her struggle with questions and worries no child should bear the previous months. She is the middle child in our family and typically personifies that with her peaceful temperament and fun, easy-going ways. But she had been steadily losing her sparkle in recent months and I worried about her downward turn as she became more sullen and difficult. I tried to talk to her but she was unable to open up about what was bothering her. I could feel her internal struggle, her allegiances were being questioned and her love was being devalued because it wasn't absolutely and entirely given only to him. He is insecure and an insecure adult can do absolute devastation to a vulnerable child. Stomachaches started happening more frequently on Wednesday mornings, she stopped using words and had complete and utter meltdowns over little things like clothes and after school snacks. I was angry, why would someone knowingly make their child suffer but it's because their world is so small and only about themselves. Then she got scared. And fear is a truly terrifying emotion. It makes your mind create what your heart can't handle and begins to convince yourself of horrible things that may or may not happen. She was scared of her room, she was scared at night and she was scared to tell me why. And I wanted to rip open someone's chest and tear apart the mean and cold heart that had put this fear into my baby. Because those thoughts never go away. When someone loses respect for women and destroys their conscience mind with the kind of filth you can find in this world, it can make boundaries blur and it can give power to physical temptations and it can make people do unthinkable things and I didn't know if that was what she wasn't telling me. But you can't stop the visits. You can't express your concern because it doesn't matter to anyone until there is blood drawn. No quantifiable damage, no problem. So we did everything we could. Extended family prayed, And fasted and cried and prayed. She was given a magic crystal from a grandma to drive the evil spirits away. There were lots of extra hugs and lots of kind words. But she still struggled. And when she would have to leave she would just put on "the mask." She would smile and go Stepford wife. Completely hollow inside, like she blew out her flame every time. It is sickening to see a seven year old become such a skilled actress. And I went to the place where I know peace is always waiting and I pleaded for answers. Any knowledge that would help open her up, and I prayed that the fear would subside. Just a little, just for a moment, too calm the mother bear inside and to give that little girl back her light. I was involved that night with working with five women. I didn't know them, their names were beautiful but a very vague representation of someone who had a luven a real life once long ago. But when I walked in the worker stopped and looked at me, looked at her lists and switched them, saying, "I'm going to give you this one." As I listened that night to the promises I had heard many times, I felt the immense and unstoppable strength in them. I felt that the women I was working with were strong as well. They were excited to begin what they had been waiting to do. They had a great mission before them and I was grateful to be a part of that, I knew they would be a part of me now and I thought of all the strong women who I have been blessed to know and come from in my life. I knew that I should tell her about this. But when she came home it was worse than it had ever been, my husband said it actually scared him to see the darkness that threatened to envelope her. I asked her to tell me what was wrong and she flatly refused, would not even look at me. So I grabbed her hand, prayed for help and just started talking. Then suddenly knew what I needed to tell her. I shared an experience that I had a few years earlier. It was 7 years before, the first time I had separated from their father, and I was holding a sleeping baby in my parent's kitchen. The tears were flowing while I wondered why God had sent me two innocent little spirits to such a bad family situation. I felt like I had failed everyone in my life by choosing to be in this marriage and I wondered why God had allowed me to do that. I had tried to make good choices, tried to do the things I knew were right, married what I thought was a righteous person and I couldn't understand now why I had to see these children suffer through the effects of other's bad decisions. I felt absolutely hopeless and heartbroken when I went to bed that night. But in those are the times that God can truly affect and teach your soul and I experienced something that has given me such a profound peace and been a source of strength countless times since. I knew in that moment that I had understood many of the challenges that I would face during my earthly life. I believe that K had been sent to his family and given the task to cleanse his family line of the misdeeds that had happened for generations. He came into a difficult role, he would be asked to withstand the most difficult form of persecution, that which comes from those who proclaim to be friend and who should be valiant parents. He has gone through abuse. He has been used for gain by his own parents as children should not be. He has suffered as his accomplishments have not been celebrated and his burdens have not been lifted and many times he has had circumstances to withstand as those who profess to be his biggest cheerleaders have actually been working towards keeping him tied down in the enabling of sin and failure. But K had a mission, he would be given every tool and sent with the ability and support to fulfill his role. His link in the chain of his posterity could be one that was stronger and more pure than they had ever been. It would be hard but he could cleanse generations. And I agreed to sustain in him that. I knew the suffering that would be endured but I knew that we could overcome it and I promised to help. But the Lord knows about moral agency and understands that not everyone succeeds at the tasks they are called to accomplish. So he fortified me. Should K fail at his mission and succumb to the flailings of a life lived the easy way, God would ensure that the cycles of abuse ended with my children. I was put in the way to stop that. God knew that no matter would happen in my marriage that I would always, endlessly and without wavering protect my children and raise them under the stewardship that God would require. Because my children had a much bigger mission to accomplish in their own lives. He needs them as valiant soldiers to prepare the way for the Savior to return in these last days by bringing their brothers and sisters to God through their example and discipleship in Christ. They have to be living a righteous life and gaining the pieces of a testimony that will carry them through the days when their generation will be the most wicked the earth has seen. And I had to ensure that by protecting them from the things that would hurt them, by teaching them the things they needed to know and by giving them the ability to learn to stand up, on their own strength for the things they knew to be right. Her little hand, that had been trying to hold a weight that was much too heavy for its tiny grasp, softened just slightly and I hoped she had understood what I was trying to tell her. I told her that I knew that God loved her, that He would help her when she couldn't do it on her own. She was offered a blessing but she struggled with what to say. She had been wrongly told that only one person should give her blessings, that power should be limited and those blessings should be cut off if it didn't from only one source. But that is simply not true. The peace and power that comes from using the priesthood and the power of God does not need to be withheld or diminished by anyone. She was given a powerful blessing and promised the ability to banish the darkness from her life when she needed too. She was reminded of her power over those who would try to harm her and again reminded that God loves her dearly. And after we told her again how much we love her. And that God loves all her family, including her father. I want him to be better. People often make jokes that it would be better if he just fell off a cliff and I don't deny that I have had those thoughts, but I don't believe them. It will be best if everyone, of their own accord, is together and happy throughout all of our existence. I know that it is better for the girls to have an involved father in their life. We try to facilitate that as much as we can, but just as you can't bring someone to salvation, they have to make an effort in that. But there is more than enough happiness to go around in this life. we express to our children often that there is always room for everyone at the table. We want everyone they love and care about to be as close to them as possible. Only those who are unhappy with themselves will feel the need to break someone else's joy into pieces. They have to see the destruction, just like a cracked mirror. When you can't stand to look at yourself you have to smash any source of reflection and often that is those who are closest and most willing to help. I could have helped him, I want to help him. But he has to open himself up to be willing to accept that. And right now he doesn't want to do that. It is too hard to admit to yourself what you have allowed yourself to do and become. So you look desperately for the next thing you can break. Last week I was told that I would be responsible for half of the extreme amount of debt he racked up without my knowledge while we were married. I though it was $12,000. It was over $70,000. I have to give him the minivan I drive and pay him dividends of money that I have used to compensate the $400 a month he has paid for 3 children in child support, because they can't live on air...but all those things are disposable and while painful in this temporal life, nothing of true value. I heard him lie and it still shocked me so much that I couldn't breathe in, I watched his mom enable him to live a life of misery as she is willing to say whatever necessary to remove responsibility from her son. But as I sat at that courtroom table, trying to stop the fear that was coursing through my body in waves, I looked at the empty chair the judge would soon sit in and there make decisions that would so profoundly affect the course of my families life, and I pictured my true and final judge sitting there. I thought about the day that I will answer to my Savior for the actions of my life. The mistakes have been many. The sins will be painfully accounted for. My lacking and failings in this life sometimes feel constant and I think I will never be able to get things right. And that makes me doubt myself. Have I done enough? Have I truly tried my best? And the fear returns. But when I thought of meeting Jesus that day I knew that despite my shortcomings, His would never fail. The price had already been paid and it wasn't some unreachable sum I set for myself that I had to meet. I just had to accept what he had already suffered for me. So I declared that whatever the outcome that day, I would act in a way that I could answer to the Lord for. And I did. I didn't seek vindication, I didn't attempt to deceive or manipulate the situation, and I didn't ask others to cover for my mistakes. I looked every person in the room in the eye, and after I lost everything I had to gain in that case that day, I walked out knowing I could still look each person in the eye with a clear conscience, just a broken spirit.
But it hasn't stopped, for when one gets a taste of what the devil is offering it becomes an obsession to get more. So we go to court again. This time it is a list of grievances attacking my character and insinuating I am unfit to be their mother. And I don't want to do this. I have a life that is beyond amazing in what I have been blessed with. But that isn't okay to someone who is miserable. So instead of living that life, I have spent weeks poring over false documents, dredging up past fights, reliving horrible memories of arguments, getting reports from Child Protective Services after he made reports that were found to be completely unfounded and police reports when he called yet again to cause a scene in our home, trying to breach the safety of the borders it provides. But it all falls through. Because what he doesn't understand is that you can't put out the light that comes through a person that comes from truth. People see our family and they can see what we are together. They know our character, and the kind of lives we have because we live it at all times. They know we have integrity simply by seeing how we handle ourselves. No need to proclaim it, no need to prove and no court ruling can take that away.
So I pray that tomorrow goes well. That the truth will be seen by the commissioner, That the support for what I'm doing will be felt in that courtroom tomorrow at 10:00 am and the hands that so vehemently want to hurt us will be stayed back for awhile.

I feel mucky. Not like an all the time, down-in-the-dumps kind of yuck. Overall I am way happy. But these forgotten nooks and crannies inside of me still need cleaned out. Maybe it was the hint of spring cleaning and wanting to shake out the cobwebs, or the fact that we just had an awesome garage sale and it felt so good to de-junk and now it's time to clear my head, or it could be just the rolling on of the clock, just simply time to be D.O.N.E. It's like my compulsion to vacuum and detail my van before a road trip. I know it's going to get so messy along the way but I just love the feeling of climbing into a clean space to start the next adventure. It's not always a good idea but it makes me feel so much better so I do. So I need to toss out the muck and I have struggled with how to do that on here. I like to tie things up with sparkle, I don't want this to turn into a bash session. Because that isn't where I live my life. I don't think to much about him. I care even less. Yet the annoyance is always there, and it seems to know when I am ignoring him. And then the buzz gets bigger, and you keep swatting and it doesn't go away until all you can think about is smashing that dang mosquito into bits and pieces as hard as you can. So I plan to make this pretty. Don't lose faith and think I have turned into the recently accused "bitter ex-wife." I've got plenty of glitter and sparkle to throw at you all in a minute, like some really good stuff going on here, but first I am going to release the pressure valve and let some things out. Bear with me, I need a minute...and a really large flyswatter.

To whom it may concern:

                I have been asked to share my thoughts and feelings about my former husband and some of the circumstances surrounding our marriage. I feel that K being married again will most likely be a benefit to both me and my children. My main concern in all major decisions that affect my children is their safety and happiness, and I believe that his new partner is kind to them and shares the same morals and values as I do, and I feel that having a stable influence when they are with their dad will be a good thing. I have not heard or witnessed anything that has raised any concerns with me about her behavior with them. I look forward to possibly having another person to help facilitate better communication between K and I, and I think that having someone who has a fresh perspective will help us have a more effective co-parenting, ex-spouse relationship.

                Unfortunately being asked to write this letter in an open and honest matter also means that I am forced to acknowledge the negative circumstances that still surround our divorce. It has been very difficult for K and I to agree too many of the terms we have tried to set. During two sessions of mediation, in which I presented the extensive parenting plan and terms of support and alimony, K would not agree to anything or offer a counter opinion. We finally appeared before a judge who granted us a bifurcated divorce, which means that the state agrees to allow us to be divorced without settling on any terms or conditions. We have a pending court date for August 2013. K was ordered to provide financial documents showing the assets that we had at the time of our separation and his check stubs or proof of income. He has refused to do so and they have had to be subpoenaed by the court. K was supposed to file our income taxes for 2012 and has still not done so. He also admitted that he had made false claims on previous taxes that I was unaware of, and that the IRS is demanding money from that. He refuses to acknowledge the joint savings and checking accounts, and he won’t show the records for an account that he refused to put my name on when we were married into which he was moving money into, from our checking accounts and an individual savings account from me. We also have bills from the hospital and doctors when I delivered our last child, that total about $1,500.00. They are all under my name, because K had his name removed from them when I left our house. He had told me multiple times that he would pay these bills, and that we would use the tax refund to take care of them, but they are now with debt collectors and are having negative effect on my credit. He is now claiming that it is my fault that Medicaid did not pay those bills and that I should have taken care if it before I left Kentucky, though he was the one who had filed all the paperwork with Medicaid and the applications were all in his name. We are both supposed to be responsible for 50% of the medical expenses for our children. I have not paid K for the insurance premiums for the last few months because he has not paid his half for the office co-pays, lab bills and prescription costs that have to be paid out of pocket. We are still both unpaid in those areas, but the last two months K has held back, against legal advice, the cost of the insurance premium from his child support check. He has refused to provide paperwork about the insurance when he changed it in January and I have no proof of the coverage that is actually being provided. For now he has not paid $170.00. K has said multiple times that he will pay for additional activities for the children such as dance and preschool but he has not done so. We have temporary orders in place but have not signed any permanent orders or allocated any marital assets. When I have asked for personal possessions that he unloaded from the moving truck without discussing it with me at his house, he simply says he didn’t bring them from Kentucky, though my children have personally seen many of the items I have asked to have returned at his current residence. K kept the car he had been driving and I kept our mini-van, which I have paid to maintain, register and insure, but he will not put my name on the title.

                I wish that I could say that I felt like K would handle himself differently in this marriage than he did ours, but I honestly cannot feel anything different about him when I see him. I worry about his emotional and psychological state entering into another marriage. K had struggled immensely in maintaining boundaries with other women while married to me. He saw no problem with emotional infidelity and it often was with girls who were still in their teens, sending text messages and following them closely through social media though I had expressed a number of concerns with his behavior. He finds ways to be around them as a volunteer athletic coach but the last team he was with asked him not to return after one season of coaching cross country running. One girl quit the team because she could not deal with K’s behavior and another family who had two girls on the team and who also attended the church ward we were in has said they were very displeased with the way K handled himself and his relationship to their daughters as a coach. K would use emotionally abusive tactics to get what he wanted from the girls, including silent treatment, berating them in front of the team or telling them their performance was inadequate. The parents felt that K struggled with a great deal of immaturity and an inability to handle competition in a healthy way. He spent a great deal of time one on one with female clients at the gym as well, and told me that he sympathized with a man who was having an affair on his wife because she did not provide for his sexual needs. K claims to have suffered sexual abuse as a teenager from a family member but he will not talk to his family about it or seek psychological treatment. I believe K has deep resentment and power issues with females and I do not think he has the ability to love someone in a selfless way. I worry about his treatment towards our children as they are all girls. I have had many talks with my seven year old about maintaining the standards she is comfortable with while under his care. He listens to music that uses vulgarity or sexually suggestive lyrics and he has makes the girls wear immodest bathing suits even though they have personally expressed the desire for something that keeps their stomachs covered. Our children often say they have a difficult time getting their father to listen to them and he does not allow them to make choices for themselves. It is a very selfish relationship and our daughters often resort to crying in order to get attention for their needs. He has had anger management issues and has had a lot of difficulty keeping a job because he refuses to comply with behavioral expectations. He has been fired for grand theft, sexual harassment, and complaints from patients or students about his behavior when working with them. His relationship with me has continued to be very difficult and contentious throughout our separation and divorce. He will often not respond when I ask about scheduling with the girls or questions about them when they are with him. He won’t acknowledge me when we are in physical proximity. I have tried to include him in activities for the girls, I believe it would be beneficial for them to see us interacting peaceably, but he will not come or he tries to illicit an explosive reaction from me when people are around. It is unfortunate because he misses a lot of things he could be involved in if he was able to handle it more maturely, but I refuse to put our children in a place where they are exposed to negative or manipulative behavior.

                The events that led up to my leaving our marriage were a very long process. K has struggled with an addiction to pornography since before we got married. I wasn’t aware of it until we had our first child and we spent some time separated then. After our second child he was still viewing pornography, and I found out about an inappropriate relationship he was having with a fellow female student, and one night I found him on the porch with a 14 year old girl from our ward. He was also moving money from our savings account into a secret account so he could spend it without accounting to me. We spent eight months living apart and we both attended counseling and after extensive work with the bishop and counselor, we got back together. He moved our family to Georgia where he failed out of the school program he was in. He got a job at a waterpark where he would not speak to us or acknowledge us as his family when we went to swim there. After losing that job he lied about interviewing for a job in Utah that did not even exist. He flew to California under the pretense of an interview that did not actually occur. We packed all of our belongings and drove not knowing where we were even going. He found a job in Kentucky working at a gym and proceeded to be involved in the same behaviors, again moving money into an account without my knowledge and buying almost $6,000 in stuff for himself even though we were taking out student loans to pay our rent. While I was pregnant with our third child K and I had almost no interaction in our daily lives. He was uninvolved in any activities due to an overnight work schedule and the fact he spent all his free time with the high school athletes he volunteered to coach. He would be gone for an entire day and I would have no idea where he was, when he was returning. After the birth, K made threats to my physical safety, even inferring that he would kill me, and tried to say it was a joke when I got upset. When my parents came to visit he took money from my mother to pay for our heating bill and then proceeded to have hundreds of dollars of sporting equipment and clothing delivered to our house. He bought a bike without my permission and said he paid $200 for it, he really paid $1,400. He continued to lie about where the stuff and the money was coming from and when I confronted him his only defense was to tell me I would never get a temple divorce over this if I left him.

                He quit his job to move closer to where I was staying with family after we seperated. Both he and his family spent less than ten minutes with our youngest child during the first six months of her life. Only after the mediator and both lawyers told him he had to make an effort to have some sort of relationship with her did he even try to spend any time with her. He has tried to be consistent with his visiting times, he never fails to show up and I don’t think the girls are going to be harmed intentionally while with him but he will not make plans ahead of time, he expects everyone to work around his schedule on very short notice and he continues to make threats about money and legal proceedings when he doesn’t get his way. It is a very selfish relationship and unless someone is telling him how great he is he doesn’t have a very deep interest in their lives beyond what they provide for him. He began attending the singles ward before our divorce was finalized, accepting a calling and speaking assignments because he claimed that when he met Elder Holland, in a parking lot while on a vacation, that he told him it would be okay to do so. Only after my bishop contacted his (under his own discretion, I had nothing to do with this call) did K finally cooperate in getting our divorce done.

                I believe K lives his life in a self-serving way. I believe this marriage is happening because it can provide for some of his needs at this time, but I don’t believe he is capable of having a fulfilling and success relationship until he begins to think of others before himself. He has never acknowledged or apologized for any of his behaviors towards me, I do not think he used this experience to learn or progress; he continuously blames me or other circumstances for our divorce. I hope with all my heart that he is able to make his next marriage work. I think he has found a very nice girl who deserves all the happiness she has always believed she deserves from a husband. Nothing would be more detrimental to my children than having to endure another ugly demise of a relationship in their parent’s lives but it is unfair for K to attempt to start another relationship with another person, who deserves a husband who is fully invested in her and their marriage, while he still has unfinished issues in ours. It is time to be responsible and take care of these things, we all need it to be finished so that we may attempt to move on and make something more of our lives. 

Sincerely,

Me

-I don't want this to be our script anymore. I don't want to think about the past when I see him. I don't want to judge every move he makes through this filter. I want it to be better. I believe it can be and it should be. We are better than this. So as easy as it is to repair a relationship with only one person (not!) I am going to keep trying. Because it is good for me. I don't like hating him. I don't like being angry, or impatient or cynical. I like being me. I feel good in that skin and that is not a bitter anything. After a few days of tubing and jumping off things and playing at Lake Powell last summer, my youngest brother said, "Who is this new Heather??" He didn't remember much of me before I was the wife and mom and not quite myself all the time but my sister piped up and answered, "This was always how Heather has been. Now she's just free to be it." Best feeling ever knowing that you actually get to be yourself in your own life! I can't believe I ever let someone steal that from me. Never again, and now I am going to shake out the dust, tie up the knots, and let this piece of history crumble into my past. It's not going to be pretty but its mine, and I don't have any room for muck anymore!

   Come what may and live it. My life was so completely opposite of what I had thought it would be when I first said those words. It was so extremely opposite of where I thought I would be that I was very secure in just admitting, "Yep... This is where I am at now." It was something I did almost with a laugh, because I'm sure from the outside looking in, it might have seem like it was in shambles. I had a brand new baby, two little girls, had just moved across the country to move back in with my parents and go back to school as my 30th birthday loomed around the corner. But I was secure in who and what I was. I knew it was crazy but I knew God was there, taking care of me and guiding me through the wreckage. Then I started to get my feet under me. I stopped needing help at every turn, I started standing again on my own. My life took its new direction and I started finding the confidence in that independence. I began thinking my own thoughts, finding my own ground and slowly coming to be comfortable in my new identity. And there was a lot of happiness in that. The fear started fading away and strength came in it's place. And I was happy. A kind of happy that I don't think I had ever felt. My life was my own and there was so much good in it. I had been blessed with amazing people around me, I found joy in my kids and our life as a new different kind of family, my faith continued to grow and I realized that it was okay to finally really enjoy my life. And not in a next year will be good kind of way, or a when such and such is different I will feel better kind of thing. It was good right now and I didn't need anything else to feel that way. There was still lots of things that weren't going my way. some days it seemed like everything wasn't going my way. But it wasn't a fleeting joy I had found, it was a happy that was based on things that never fade, I had a found a security in my life of turmoil and I was enjoying that.
   And then something affected me. And I felt that nudge again. I know God is directing my life in the way it should go because I am doing everything I can to allow Him to do that. I have gotten really good at doing things that feel right in my life. I try to do things for the right reasons too, and sometimes that can change, from day to day even, and that's ok. And sometimes I stumbled in being comfortable with that. I had a long conversation with my much wiser, younger sister when I told her that I still felt deep down that I still believed the voice that had told me for so long that I wasn't worth the time. I was lucky to have someone tolerate me in a marriage, that I really was as small as he wanted me to be. I still dismissed my value as a person worthy of something good. And she told me that made her more mad at him than anything else had. She told me if she could scream the opposite into my head she would. Then she hit me with the question that shows how amazing of a woman she is and asked, Have you prayed to not feel this way? I will pray for you to not feel like that. And I sunk. Because she was so right. I hadn't prayed. I had held onto that battered and bruised and beaten part of my heart and guarded it with all the fierceness I had left inside. Not on purpose, not even knowing I was doing it, but I had.
    So I prayed. Again, And then again, and then a few more times. And I finally started to believe it. Because happiness isn't and ending, it was already here. The timeline we like to put on things doesn't really exist. Because our lives don't stop and start with singular events. Things don't really begin on anniversaries or dates on a calendar. Those are just days when the time is right for the stars to align. And God can finally show what he has been getting ready for you while you had no idea. He is aware of us. He takes care of us. He loves us and wants to bless us with things we cannot even imagine might be possible. Happiness is available and I no longer want to stand in the way of mine.

thirteen and counting...

"I decided last year 13 was going to be our lucky number, I knew this year [2012] would be rough and I thought if we could just get through it then we would work on the next one [2013] being great. Last week I lost my car keys, with my gym pass on it and have torn apart the house, including going through the trash in 2 big outside cans with no luck. A few days later I realized I threw away my temple reccomend that I had stuck in an old magazine, so I dumpster dived for the 2nd time this month again with no luck. Then this morning I got my van completely stuck in a snow bank. In front of my exes house. In high-heeled leather boots. Yay, independent woman... But I have a spare key, my bishopric got me a new reccomend, and Kevin smiled the entire time he and a neighbor pushed my car out and on its way. So while I am more than thrilled to slam the door shut on last year and quickly welcome in 2013, because I am pretty sure there is some room for improvement for me, I learned you can't throw away the most important things in life, spending some time wading through the crap makes you realize what you have, and even crow doesn't kill you when you have to eat it once in awhile. Bring on the next, "lucky 13" here we come!"


This was something I wrote the first week of this year. I had no idea what would actually be in store for me but I have to say that "lucky 13" has held true. It has been so much more than I would have ever thought was even possible. More trying, more busy, more crazy. And with all that has been more happiness, more joy, and more impossibles becoming possible than I would have ever imagined possible. Lucky seems like it's almost too shallow of a word to use to describe my life this past little while. Blessed fits better. 2013 was yummy, joyfully, abundantly blessed!

teach your men to be men, so their women don't have to be..

I can open my own door. I carry my own bag. My dad taught me how to change my oil and my mom taught me that I am strong enough to do whatever needs to be done. It's not always a matter of what someone is capable of, but sometimes it should be about how much you can do to ease that for them.
We are still fighting about dollars. Because that is what drives some people. And I am totally dependent on it. And that gives people power. And that makes some people ugly. When you believe something is owed to you, or that you deserve something you have, it makes you blind to it. Where your treasure is there will your heart be also. And so we go back to court. And I explain why my children cannot live on less than the $300 they get each month. And I defend why even though I am capable of making wages, and have not fought his insistence on my imputed income of $1,700, that I simply could not do that while not putting my kids in daycare, and going to school full time. Because 10 years ago I made the choice to drop out of college. I enrolled in a trade tech and worked two jobs while I went because we were investing in the dream together. He was going to be a doctor, so it was okay for me to sacrifice a bit. We were investing in a future. I didn't mind the fake diamond in the ring, I was working towards something bigger. So I worked. I got a job and spent 16 hours some days working. And when a position opened up above me, that I wasn't qualified for, I was given it, because I was good at it, and I worked for it. Then the baby came and I thought my life was going to be different. But six months later, after yet another job loss, store don't like when their employees steal from them, I went back to work. We couldn't pay our bills yet again and the welfare was running thin. My mom took me grocery shopping so I could pack my lunch and loved my baby, and I went to work. Because that is what you do. And I got another call, this time the job loss was because of sexual harassment claims from a fellow employee. And then I got another job, one I again wasn't qualified for, but one that I did well, and that worked better for my family. Because that is what you do. Especially when he doesn't. I cried on tuesdays when I drove into work after I dropped her off when she cried that I was leaving. I came home to dinner cooked by a friend who knew how tired I was. I went grocery shopping, and cleaned the house and crammed in a week's worth of mommy time into my day off because that is what you do.
And he got fired from a minimum wage job, and dropped classes and our future seemed to become more uncertain all the time. There was always a next thing and always a reason. If he had spent half as much time just doing something as he did justifying why he was constantly the victim he would have been set. And I got good at telling the story of why I wasn't being taken care of. Hard times happen, I would never expect to be exempt from that but constantly allowing yourself to succumb to selfish urges or think only about how something affects you is not how a man should live his life. Work is hard, that is why it is called that. But we were commanded to go to work. Just as Adam was told he would prosper only by the amount of work he put into his life, we are expected to do that.
But sometimes men quit their jobs. And sometimes they live in their parent's basements for years because they would rather drive a car that is worth more than their annual salary and leased in their parent's names because no one with any logic would given them a car loan like that. And they get a Best Buy credit card and put a flat screen tv and speakers in their "lair", and they buy "their kids" an ipad for Christmas that has to stay at their house, and they pay $50 for haircuts and $80 for car washes and they spend $1,000 in Disneyland, not for tickets or hotels, but just on stuff because they are "making memories". And they don't pay for preschool, and they don't pay for backpacks or dance lessons or book orders because that kind of stuff isn't what is important. And then they find out they probably won't have a job in a few months so they go to a conference in Vegas, and buy the group dinner, and take the girlfriend to California and buy some new clothes from Banana Republic and put a lift kit on the beloved Jeep. And when the job isn't there you simply look around at those who depend on you and say, deal with it.
Because he knows I will. I will do what needs to be done because that is who I am. My parents will yet again pay for bills and buy Christmas gifts and take me grocery shopping because that is who they are. My dad has never considered anything that he works endlessly for to be his own. He considers it a righteous stewardship and he has blessed my life endlessly because of that. My mom buys boxes of diapers. And church shoes that worn too thin. And she quietly sneaks my van down to the gas station before anyone wakes up because that is who she is. They are motivated only by helping to ease my burden.
I recently met a man who I quickly came to adore. He saw a moment of simple need. I had something in my shoe and I was trying to balance on one foot while I couldn't get my shoelaces untied because my fingers were too cold. He grabbed my arm and helped me with the shoe and kindly said, "You just need someone to take care of you once in awhile." And I bit back tears. Not because I needed someone to do it but because he simply had. He is a man who has been taught what that means.
Teach your men that they should constantly be striving to do more for those around them. Make sure they understand the value of another person. Tell them that the quiet moments they spend creating homes of peace and enjoyment are the things that will shape future generations. Teach them that a lie should sting when it comes out of their mouth, instead of rolling out with ease. Make sure they know how to work, it is a requirement not a luxury we choose when we want to. Make sure they know how to enjoy when things are easy, but more importantly they persevere when things are hard. Don't let them yell at waiters, or old women, or their wives whether it be when others can hear or not. Teach them that fear is not the kind of power they should want to create but that respect is something you can't force. Teach them the value of what they achieve. Don't take that away by lessening the consequences of bad choices. Teach them to handle those defeats with grace. Push them a little harder than they want you too, greatness is never achieved without a little discomfort. Teach them that others feelings should always come before their own. Success that is found at an other's expense is not really success. Do not show them how to get out of responsibilities, teach them how to handle them and treat them as top priorities. Make sure they know that just because you can get away with something it doesn't make it okay to do so. Please show them what it means to righteously preside over a home. A wife should not be something that is tolerated or mistreated but should be loved and adored and respected as the celestial being she may one day be. Teach them that children are a gift and that misuse of that sacred duty to raise them will not be tolerated with any degree of allowance. Teach them what being a man of God means, that it is in the quiet, private moments where that truly manifests itself.
I know so many real men. I have been flooded in my life with good ones and I am grateful for that. They show my girls what should be expected of a man in this life and they are aware of the differences. This lessens the impact of those who haven't quite been able to reach that yet. So we go back to court. Because he doesn't want to pay as much, he shouldn't have to sacrifice his own needs to provide that. But we will be okay. Because I have been taught the ultimate example of what a man should be. And for awhile I will be both in my life, but I know He is aware of that and that compensations will be made. Because He is what man should be and that will never be lacking.

I read something that said, "If you run, you are a runner." I don't agree, I am definitely not a runner. But I run, and sometimes it feels like I run a lot. Today is National Running Day so I ran 7 miles and I thought about why I run. It's something that a lot of people do, but it is not something I ever did. I hated it. I thought the one mile fun run in junior high was actually going to kill me one day. Then last summer I just stepped out the door and started running. It came from a place of pain actually. I wanted my body to hurt as much as my soul did. I needed something to burn more and drown out what was going on inside of me. So I would run until that happened. It wasn't very far at first but it helped. I knew I was doing something that I couldn't have done the year before. It was hard and that was what I liked about it. I craved the feeling of overcoming something I thought I couldn't do. Some days I ran to get away from the house, from the legal paperwork and constant care of a new baby, and the monotony that can sometimes get to a young mom. It was the only thing that had a start and a finish, one thing I could actually check off that I had done that day. Some days I turned the music as loud as I could stand and just enjoyed the songs and the time I had to myself. And some days the steady thump of my sneakers on the asphalt was the absolute only thing in my life that seemed to be in control. And then my heart would be beat with the same constant rhythm and pretty soon my thoughts would slow from a frenzy of panicked fears and fuzzy, disorganized fragments into something that I could actually handle. Things made more sense after a run. Life wasn't so scary, if I could handle 5 miles I could handle other things. I was capable of doing hard things and that power was what running had given me. So I keep running. Some days it feels good, other days it sucks. Ha, which is just like life. So I may have started to run to outrun and escape my life, but now I run because it has helped give me back my life. Just like that one mile never killed me in seventh grade, the things that I would have thought I was never capable of handling have only made me stronger. It feels so great to push myself and the satisfaction of achieving something hard is the best feeling you can have. No I am not a runner. I am just a girl with a pair of running shoes and a "you can"t tell me what" kind of attitude. But most days that gets me a lot further than I would have ever thought possible. So I don't run for anyone else, I don't run for the races, I don't run for the times, I run because I can and most days that is pretty amazing!

It has been such a long minute since I have written anything on this blog and I am sad about that. I think I missed the moments to remember the feelings I was having and the lessons I have learned, but more than anything I think my brain needs to let thoughts out sometimes. No scratch that, my heart needs to let things out. My brain seems to process them okay but my heart sometimes gets a little encumbered with all the things it feels. But my heart doesn't feel as heavy anymore. I have made some some little jumps ahead and perhaps the urgency to write it out has waned just a bit. And the reason is that I have been busy. I have been racked with school work, I have been having fun with my family, going out with girlfriends, crying with girlfriends, laughing and laughing some more with friends and even squeezing in a date or two.
   My world is so filled with beautiful people and the overwhelming majority of them are women. Utah seems to have a monopoly on them. I see them everywhere I go. They are at the school picking up their kids or teaching others. At church, teaching a lesson or reaching out a helping hand and giving me hugs. And in the text message I get from a friend, thousands of miles away, at just the right time reminding me that I am doing something amazing. They are in my home and in my family and all I have to do is turn around to find someone who amazes with their absolute drop dead gorgeous beauty. And I'm not talking about the "glitterbums" which is what my sister and I call the drones here who all wear the same jeans, have eyelash extensions that curve to the back of their head, and who seem to do nothing more than follow their crowd of friends from one fad to the next. I mean the real women. An aerobics teacher told us that she used to tell her classes to go until they couldn't do anymore. Push yourselves as far as you can, then she realized that these women would literally kill themselves before they felt they would stop! They were beyond tough, they had nothing inside that would tell them to slow down, they would not stop unless they were told to because they refused to give up. The women I know don't give up. They have been through things in life that would kill someone and yet they keep going. And they do it with energy, and joy and happiness. They are smart and funny and so wonderful to be around that it is addicting. It is so intoxicating and I am constantly amazed at how strong they are in handling the challenges they have been handed in their lives.
   I recently sat across from a guy, very nice, who was attempting to explain some changes he had recently made in his approach to dating. He knew some of my background, not all of it, and he was sincerely trying to express what he felt had been a positive step in being more open-minded. But I just smiled, as all I heard him say was he was now at a place where he was okay with dating someone in my kind of a situation. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of my sharp tongue knows how white hot I was seething inside. For someone to think that they are offering me benevolence in my life by agreeing to even get to know me because I have children in my life and some scars on my heart, is in Southern terms "cock-a-mammy crazy." I thought how sad for all that he doesn't even know he was missing. He wanted someone more sparkly, someone that he felt was new, maybe a few more starts in their eyes. I get that. Everybody is entitled to what they feel they need in their life. Most people that walk through the pound want a new puppy, they are dang cute to look at, but who knows what you are going to get with it after you get home. My friends laughed when I compared us to the old dogs at the humane society but I did tell this certain guy what I felt, how I see the beauty in these women who have lived a little more life. I am so infatuated with the things they know and the brilliant lessons they teach me. They may not be as enthusiastic as someone who hasn't experienced as much but they know who they are, they know where they stand because they have had to withstand the storm. They appreciate all the good things because they know how it is to be without. I don't know how anyone can't see the diamond, but maybe it is because they don't always have to show it to know their worth. They may not desperately need the man in their life, but that only means that if you are there it is because they want you to be. Their lives are so much richer and so much more beautiful to me because they have created it that way, they have worked for it, they have earned it when they would have had every excuse to just give up. There are also wonderful people who are young, who may not have had to endure some of the trials that might await them. I love the young women in my life, they are pure and happy and they also help me remember how it feels to be optimistic and not weighed down with life, for it is meant to be lived happily. But the beauty that I strive for is not something that is found on the outside, it comes from a clear view of who you are, where you came from and what you are capable of when you turn your life to Christ and find your peace through this craziness we live in Him. Women are special to the Lord, and I know more of that now, as I have felt His sorrow for what they have to endure. And I have felt his strength and pride when they do it well. Women are sacred and they should always be treated as such, their power is so much more infinite they often realize. I love the women in my life. I love the joy they give to me. I love their examples and their humor and I love the special beauty that I so profoundly see in them each day. My quote in my bedroom says "Good Women: May we know them, may be them, may we raise them." I definitely know them, I have begun to raise a few, and because I am allowed to walk among them I am slowly beginning to take part and become one.

hypocrisy makes me crazy. I figure if you want people to believe something about you then you act that way. No need to talk about it all the time, no need to write about it on Facebook or say things from a microphone to a room full of people. Because let's be honest, we aren't that dumb, we can tell when things are what they seem or if someone is quite what they profess. But yet it still makes my skin crawl when someone says something and then acts in total opposition of that. Today should have been my ninth wedding anniversary. I had dreaded this day for awhile because it was a day that was something that will always be his and mine, a day that was picked on the calendar (we were at a fireside at the conference center) and then talked about endlessly and anticipated with so much excitement. I can tell you almost of every detail of how we celebrated this day for the past eight years, the first that he so carefully planned, the second, fourth and eighth that I spent pregnant, the fifth that was miserable and I found out why two weeks later when we first separated  and all the others that no matter what were marked as a passage of time that only we exclusively shared. Our wedding day was beautiful, all the fighting in the planning was forgotten and for the most part the ex in-laws were held at bay, and the day was just a day that we got to be happy. I wanted to hug everyone, I was that happy. I thought this was the day the rest of forever would start. I had waited for him for what seemed like so long and we could finally start what I was so excited for. I still remember our first weekend together, we just stayed in Salt Lake but it was such a wonderful time. We had a really nice dinner out (the most expensive I had and still ever have had) and I remember his wedding ring catching the light and I was so happy that he was my husband. It was the best feeling, at the time I didn't think we would ever need anything more than we had in that very moment. I am so glad we didn't know what the future would hold. I can't bear to think about myself as that girl and to know all the heartache that would come. I knew marriage would not be easy and I knew that we would have challenges but I guess I had been protected from the real world. I didn't know how mean people could be, I had no idea how bad it could get. There were so many dreams wrapped up in that day and I still mourn the loss of what I think should have been. Some days I am still bitter that promises weren't kept and bad feelings and rotten experiences came at the hand of someone who was supposed to love me and take care of me. But really those thoughts are just bitterness and dwelling on them only creates sadness so I take solace in the fact that I am who I am because of my life and that is something I have earned and it can't be taken away from me. A cute friend passed on a quick screen shot of something my x had shared today, maybe she thought it was sweet but in reality it felt like salt in a wound, because if you claim to be grateful for something then you should act like it. Don't treat the things you value terribly and then be surprised when you can't keep them forever. I knew today would be a fight, he was mean and controlling when I was married to him, I don't know why I keep expecting him to change now that I'm not. My daughters teacher called to ask that I come pick up the cookie dough they ordered for a fundraiser, it was all over the classroom and the boxes were to big for the kids to try and carry out themselves, so I did. He had taken the order form and I hadn't heard about it until the last day when I hurried and told him that I had some orders I would like added. I was grateful he had sold some too, B was thrilled she had a few orders but I didn't grab it from the freezer when he first picked up the younger girls. I have a class I have to leave immediately for so I figured we could exchange it later that evening but he called within a few minutes and screamed at me that he had to have the cookie dough that minute because he had people waiting for that cookie dough (really? is someone going to die from lack of dough) . He yelled that he didn't even know why I would have picked up the cookie dough in the first place. I hung up, stopped what I was doing and put his orders on the front porch. I couldn't believe we were screaming at each other over this today. I wanted today to be different. I wanted to remember the reasons we loved each other before and maybe even for just a second allow myself to feel sad that that was gone, and not feel guilty about it. I maybe even wanted to really see him again, for just a second be able to remember him the way it used to be but maybe that was never really the way it was. Maybe he was always this guy and I just didn't see it. But I prefer to think that he wasn't always like this, he used to say things and mean them, he used to be more happy with himself, that I wasn't just too dumb to not see through it. Today I will tell myself that, and even if it's just for the last hour of November 7th, I will believe it.

Louisville was the first of a few major cities we had to navigate through on our way to Utah. In order to get past it you have to use a bridge and last January that bridge was closed. And so was the bridge we were supposed to detour on. We were only an hour into what already was a totally overwhelming trip and we were lost. We followed the signs and somehow we wound a big circle around the city and ended up right where we started, so we tried again and still couldn't get anywhere. The gps was no help and I was completely turned around and lost by the time we started making our way around again. I never liked Louisville, out of all the cities we had been in, all the slums we had been through I was always the most uncomfortable there. It seemed like a mean, dirty city and I did not want to have to drive through the heart of it that morning. But we knew the way we were going wasn't working so we got off the exit and tried to wind our way through town. We followed a construction truck and at the third stop sign he got out of his truck and ran back to the van. A little cautiously I unrolled it, and he kindly asked if we were lost. He explained the way we needed to go and then told us to follow him he would get us as far as he could, and when we past the exit he waved us on our way. Too bad we didn't quite get the directions and some how ended up turned around and lost again. By this point I was panicked that we were absolutely never going to get out of this city, we had at least three days of driving before us and we were all already tired and hungry. We wound our way through some one way streets and u-turns and my mom thought we should pull over. I was very nervous, we were not in a good part of town but we didn't have any other options so I pulled into the parking lot of a White Castle. There were some cop cars around so I quietly hoped things would be okay. I had to nurse the baby so my mom took the other girls in. My mom isn't scared of much, I think she sincerely sees the good in people and so she doesn't really judge what might be negative, she figures she would help someone so most people would be willing to do the same. She told me she hadn't felt the same nervous about the area as I had and she is so sensitive to the spirit had I known that I wouldn't have worried at all. She asked someone at the counter and as they tried to give her directions another man overheard her from his table and got up to talk with her. He explained exactly where we needed to go, down to the direction we should go when we left the parking lot. He took the time to write down everything for us and then said he would point it out to her since he was about to walk home. She told him that I was feeding the baby and we probably wouldn't be ready to go for a little and thanked him for all his help. She came out to the car and told me she had gotten help and we were so relieved that he took the time to write it down so we wouldn't get mixed up again. It took about 20 minutes to get everyone settled and we drove around back we saw the man from the restaurant standing on the corner patiently waiting for us to come. We rolled down the window and he explained that he just wouldn't have been able to go home because he would have worried about us until he knew we were headed the right direction. I couldn't believe that standing on this yucky street corner, in an old wool cap and dirty sweats stood an angel helping us on a little further. This man didn't know where we came from or where we going, but I believe because he had Jesus is his heart he knew someone had a need and he was there to help. What a blessing and what a lesson in the power that one person can have on another. We can be such a help to those around us and what a good man to wait patiently on that sidewalk just because he cared enough to worry about some strangers he met in a burger joint. I wish I could thank him again for being there, maybe one day I will, I don't think I will ever forget his face. He probably doesn't share my religion but he exemplified what it meant to be a Christian that morning, and some days all that a person can get is that help through another. Be that other person, keep Christ in your countenance so others can be edified through that, be that light to the world that others need you to be, you may never know just what a blessing you have the potential to be!

once in awhile someone will ask about something, or a memory will come back and I have to stop and think about last January. Sometimes we even talk about the miracle it was that we made it to Utah in one piece, sometimes we laugh about it and think did that really happen? I checked B out of school early one day. The secretary at the school asked me if I was okay. I had explained a little bit over the phone and when she saw my face she wanted to make sure I wasn't in danger. To be honest I wasn't sure. I was terrified, I had a lock box filled with some papers in the car and a bag of a few essentials. B's teacher walked her to the office, she was hoping to get a peek at the new baby and my heart broke when I saw her. I couldn't tell her that we were leaving, I couldn't stand the thought of taking B out of her class, it was such a wonderful place, full of kids who loved it and I just couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. We went to McDonalds for lunch and I told him that I didn't want him to be at the house while we packed things up. I was scared that we wouldn't be safe in the house but I needed some time to get a few things together. My mom and I thought we would have to have the house packed before we left so we tried to get a truck, find boxes and figure out how we could even do it all. I sold furniture, packed and we tried to take care of a 2 week old. He wanted to meet with the bishop so we did. It was something we had done so many times before and I was honest when I told both of them I was done. I could not do this again, I was too tired of it. I don't think he knew what he was coming up against as he met with us that night but I will always be grateful for his words of support and wisdom. I had never experienced that before but I knew the bishop was given the grace to see my soul that night, he understood what I was saying and also many things that I didn't say. I am grateful for good men who allow God to work though them in order to bless my life. I called a friend on the way home and told her what was going on, her husband was at the house within an hour and also offered some more inspired words of kindness and comfort. The next few days were a whirlwind of all the things we had to get done. K's dad had offered to bring the moving truck so we didn't have to. It was a relief to not have to do that but I didn't realize that meant he would take the truck to his house first and unload everything he wanted or could sell. I am always amazed at how much work my mom can do, she accomplishes more in an hour than most do in a day and she worked tirelessly. My mind was such a fog and she was a superhero in helping with absolutely every little thing I needed. I had started to say good-bye to some people, it was so difficult that I didn't have the energy for it all. I had to return a baby swing to someone. I thought I was composed but her daughter caught what I was saying and asked if my girls were leaving too. It such a horribly wrenching moment and I lost it again. These people had been so good to me and I hated to think I was just leaving. But that last night I had two girls come visit. They helped me pack up my closet and made me laugh while I put the last few pieces of my life into boxes. These were girls who knew many of the things I had felt that year in Kentucky and they had been so good to me through it all. I needed to see them and I needed to have a few last minutes. It was a surprisingly happy few hours and I still find myself wishing I could be around them again. They told me I looked good, I seemed lighter and they loved on the new baby they had all been so excited to see. The next morning we were up early anxious to be done, my mom packed the van in the freezing cold as the sun came up and we drove out of Lexington. No fanfare, no drama. Just a right turn and the highway and we were on our way in our loaded little minivan.

you know when you sit on the airplane and they tell you that if a situation should arise that you need an oxygen mask you should always put your own mask on before helping anyone around you? Like I was ever actually going to do that... Now by no means am I a saint who worries endlessly about those around me, but I usually think "I am strong enough to handle this, better me than someone else", I can put off myself for a bit if it means somebody else feels a little better. I like those around me to be happy, and if that means I don't say exactly how I feel, or do what it is I want to do, or be quite what I want to be, that was ok. Because I thought that would make them think I was ok, and that was more important. Then I sat in the airplane and buckled the most amazing little thing I had ever had into that seat next to me. There was nothing in the world that had ever meant so much to me, no one who I would have sacrificed more for, nothing I had ever loved the same as I loved her. I would have gladly given up a thousand oxygen masks if it had meant that she had a moment of easy breathing. I could take a little beating here and there because I was working for something bigger now, it wasn't about me any longer. I could tolerate a little more pain, I could see past some rough edges, and soon it became a dull ache that didn't matter as much, because I told myself "she was happy", this family was what I had wanted my entire life and it was ok that it was hard for me, if I tried a little harder it would be easier for them. For now there were two, one on each side, buckled in safely, knowing that I was there, and that was enough for them in the moment. And there were certainly good moments in our life. Pieces of happiness, because it's impossible not to have them when you are with these little girls. Sent from God- handpicked for me, I was chosen to be their steward, to help them through this life while they had to be separated from their Heavenly Father. To care for them when they are hurt, when they are scared or when they don't know what to do. I am their mother and that meant, forever I will fight for them, I will give anything that I have to them and I will do what needs to be done for them. The turbulence came but I thought I could handle it, they didn't see me cry at night, they didn't hear the frustrated fights after they were tucked into their beds and I could always come up with an answer as to why he was missing yet again on another activity, another day when it was just us. Once in awhile he would try, he would take them out for an afternoon, or turn the tv off long enough to help with homework or comb their air after a bath but it was inconsistent at best, and at worst the affection was deliberately withheld and they were left thinking they had done something wrong. And the anger continued to increase and the reach of his rage went further after he told her she was a worthless brat and left her crying in the kitchen,  I hugged her with every fierceness in my heart and told her how wonderful she was and how much she meant to me. She had my oxygen, and that was ok. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell her that. That I was not allowed to take away any of the pain he caused, that was not my right to step over him as a parent and coddle my child. I didn't care what he said I would do it anyway, for that is what I promised those new babies each time I held them. I don't think he meant to do things this way, I think he wanted it to be better but he was also tired and overwhelmed and not sure how fix this. Then the third baby came. She and I struggled a great deal to get her here and after my part was done she struggled even more to adjust to being here. I loved her more than I could imagine possible and I knew she felt when I was there in the hospital unit with her. But when I wasn't there it was ugly; I was told I couldn't go, I was told I couldn't drive myself anywhere, so if he didn't want to take me I couldn't go see my baby. I was exhausted when I came home from the hospital, days before Christmas, to a home that was an absolute mess. Thankfully my wonderful friends made sure that we had good food brought in out of the kindness of their hearts, yummy soups and casseroles and the most amazing plate of fresh fruit all cut up and with yummy dip that was so much better than the hospital stuff we had been living on, but the kids were told to stop eating all that fruit, they didn't need that sugar.. controlling to the max. The older girls were shuffled from house to house at the drop of a hat as we turned around every 3 hours to be at the hospital for feedings and my heart broke when my poor toddler told me 'I just want to stay home with you today.' But if I just wanted to stay home I was berated for abandoning the baby, though she had a full team of qualified nurses and doctors caring for her. I laid on the couch and cried, I was missing something either place I was at, and I couldn't get to the hospital that morning because there was too much to do at the house, with the mess he had made and his inability to do anything other than watch football from the couch. No dishes had been done, no laundry washed, presents for Christmas still needed to be wrapped and I was so overwhelmed with it all. I was no longer truly taking care of any of those babies because honestly, I could not breathe. There was no life in me, it had just become too much. The circumstances of my life at that moment seemed to drown me and the last thing that I needed was to yet again stand up to him and defend myself... But sometimes in life there is no choice, there is only do, so up off the couch I went. I took a deep breath and got to work, the house got cleaned, the girls were played with and the baby was fed and loved. My body was battered, my mind was exhausted and overwhelmed, and I was so alone, but I was still breathing.