the baby sister graduates

Well. It's official. My baby sister graduated last week and it was an EVENT. Holy moly. And so exciting. Actually, it was really weird because I realized that Daniel's youngest brother graduated eight years ago - and I was there for it! There were memories happening all over the place. 

We had decent seats - not too high, not too low. Umbrellas all around us that helped a lot when the rain and the HAIL came. Yes, you read that right. It hailed on us. Hence Hannalyn's winter coat and my layers upon layers to keep me warm. Ugh. It was so cold. Megan is the one in the white in the center of the picture - furthest to the left.

We kept ourselves pretty well entertained, though. We loved having family around to play with Hannalyn and keep her covered during the wet parts. We enjoyed the speeches - most of them were short and sweet and only one had an Endgame spoiler that got a huge groan from the crowd . . . Yup. That was too bad, but very deliberate. Ha! I guess that's life.

I'm so proud of Megan. She had a rough four years in high school and has grown so much from her trials. She refused to be beaten down and she won! She made it through the crap and became such an incredible example and leader. She is beautiful inside and out and I'm so grateful that she is my sister.

Congratulations, lady luck! We're rooting for you still and love you SO much!
xoxo
me

daniel's birthday

Daniel is officially 31. Wow! A great milestone. I mean, it's the first birthday past 30 which makes it a big deal right? He had a great day despite the rain ruining his golfing plans. My favorite part was watching him spend the morning with Hannalyn - she was absolutely thrilled to have him home for the day (Daniel took the day off work) and followed him around, interacted with him, and was overall adorable. It was great to see them together outside the "norm" of life. It was such a special day. We ate some delicious food, Hannalyn chose balloons for Daniel's present and was over-the-moon excited to give them to him, and we just hung out.

I'm so grateful for this awesome guy and for all the incredible things he is. It was a rough year being 30 - lots of unexpected ups and downs that Daniel worked really hard to overcome. I'm proud of him for doing it and being better and happier for it. I love seeing him so happy.

You're going to CRUSH 31, love. Happy birthday - and a year full of happy wishes, too.
xoxo
me.

my social media is different than yours

I have a major love/hate relationship with social media. I think many of us do. It's an amazing place to connect with friends near and far, see businesses, look at memes and find inspirational stories. It is also a black hole to the crummy dark world of meanness and hate that we live in fueled by anything and everything that gets a rise out of you or your neighbor or that kid you knew in high school.

I think one of the things I struggle with the most, however, is the judging of how other people use social media.

For example. May is a big month. There was Mother's Day, graduation for my littlest sister, Daniel's birthday, and Mental Health Awareness month. I wrote a post on Mother's Day celebrating my mother. Long, but not terribly. I enjoyed writing it and reflecting on how much I love her and documenting my thoughts with a fun picture and memory.

And then a friend of mine shared a meme that said "I'm one of the few people who said Happy Mother's Day to my mom in person rather than writing a post on social media."

My first thought was, and I am not joking, I SHOULD GO DELETE MY POST ABOUT MY MOM.
Now, I didn't do it and I am so glad that I didn't because then I thought about all the people who can't talk to their mother in person. Or even on the phone. I got very irritated that this post is judging those who choose to show their love by writing words. Sure, not everyone needs to post those words on social media - some journal or write it in a card. For me, I type faster than I can write and I wanted it connected with that picture. I save those posts in a place for myself to revisit later as part of my journaling.

Was I wrong to write about my mom? NO. And I was still able to see her later in the day, give her a hug, help make dinner, tell her I love her in person and she told me that she liked what I wrote and it made her feel good.

What about the people who don't have a mother to call or visit? And don't tell me they can go visit someone else's mom. While true, that's not usually how it happens. When my mom dies, I hope that I still write nice things about her. Some I will share and some I will not. That's how it is now and I foresee it being how it will always be.

I wrote a post about Mental Health Awareness month sharing my story. I was inspired to do so by reading posts written by people who I admire. Now, I'm not sure that I am very admired (at least not in the way that I look up to others) but it doesn't change the fact that we are all having a human experience and it oftentimes helps to remember that. That means sharing the good AND the bad sometimes. This way, we can realize we don't know all that is going on in someone's life and we can be kinder to those around us. Plus, I think it breaks up the monotony of hate that becomes the feed.

And then a friend of mine shared a meme that said "Don't people know sharing their problems on social media won't fix them?"

Again, momentary insanity of OH MY GOSH DID I MAKE A MISTAKE AND SHOULD I TAKE IT DOWN?!
Again, I didn't. And the words I received on that post from people who I know were strengthening, healing, uplifting and uniting. All the things I didn't know I needed. And maybe, just maybe, someone else read something they needed to know for themselves or for a loved one. Maybe.

So here's the thing - social media is different for everyone. Some use it for mindless scrolling to escape life, some use it to promote their business to new and vast audiences, some follow celebrities, some only follow a few close friends, some post every picture of every naked baby they see and some are very private. Everyone does it differently and, in my opinion, that's great! Whatever the preference, we shouldn't be judging who writes about their mom or who posts about their mental health. There are other problems in the world and on the internet. Besides, if you don't like it, don't follow it and allow it in your feed.

Disclaimer: I know these two friends were likely not sharing those memes as a result of my post, but it gave me pause to think and I'm glad that it did.

And for goodness sake, love your people - on social media and off. We don't need more psycho-analyzers of why someone wrote about their garden or their car or their mom. We need more love. So get out there and love today.

Book Review: Snatching the Catcher

Yes yes yes! This BOOK!

I'd been waiting for this one for what felt like forever but was in reality only a couple of weeks. I was so excited to get this one and read Grizz's story (admittedly a character I was immensely curious about from the other books in the series) and let me tell you - this did NOT disappoint! I loved it. In fact, I read it twice in one week. True story. The first time I inhaled it - read it fast because I was excited to finally have it and was swept up in the fun. The second time I took my time and read it leisurely and oh my goodness it was even better the second time through.

OK. This story has it all - romantical romance, fun, beautiful detailing of Rachel and her dancing, so many exciting baseball happenings, realism, adventures, heartache, happiness, witty dialogue, and incredible characters! 

I may have found a new favorite in the Six Pack. ;)

But seriously. If you want a fun read, this is perfect for summer time enjoyment. Or any time enjoyment. Multiple time enjoyment! I'll stop now. ;)

Find it on GOODREADS or AMAZON

"Jesus saw their faith"

There is a story in Matthew 9 / Mark 2 (KJV) that I have recently discovered and love. I'm not sure why I haven't noticed this teaching before, but I am so grateful to have it now. Let me give you the background:

Jesus' ministry was just beginning. He had performed a few miracles and the people were very curious about this man who called Himself the Son of God. There began to be a crowd of people following Christ wherever He went, watching to see the miracles - some to believe and some to belittle. Some people heard of Him from far away and came specifically to hear the teachings and see the Christ with their own eyes.

Some couldn't come on their own.

In Matthew 9 / Mark 2, we read of "a man sick of the palsy". Jesus was in Capernaum and was in a house where so many were gathered, there was no space to get through the door or to a window. This man had four friends who had carried him on a stretcher to see Jesus and be healed. But a man on his own could not walk through the people, much less four men and a stretcher make it through the crowd to get close to Christ.

So this man's friends climbed the building - bringing the man on the stretcher with them - put a hole in the roof and lowered their friend to it to Jesus.

There are so many thoughts go through my head at this!
1 - how strong and determined would the friends have had to be to carry a man up a building? I assume there wasn't a ladder conveniently placed to help them up, so they climbed and lifted on their own. Would I go through that much effort for a friend? Or would I wait until the crowd disappeared and just try to get through the door? Or go home to try another day?
2 - what did all the house owner think of his roof being opened up and a person coming through it? haha!

But this line profoundly touched my soul:

"When Jesus saw their faith. . . "

THEIR faith - the faith of the sick man's friends! Not his faith, he couldn't do anything but be carried. The friends were the ones who brought the man to Jesus, couldn't reach Him and so carried the man up a building and lowered him through the roof. Jesus saw THEIR faith.

And what did He do?

Christ healed the man - first of his sins and then of the palsy. The once-sick man stood up immediately and took up the stretcher which had borne him in and walked on his own feet from the house.

He was healed because of the faith of his friends.

When Hannalyn got pneumonia, I was terrified - both for her and for myself. Selfish it may seem, but just walking into the emergency room I was immediately struck with flashes of memories from the traumatizing experiences we had getting her to Primary Children's hospital. I felt dark clouds circling my brain and I knew that I would be unable to fight off depression for long.

We immediately messaged our families and I know the exact moment when the first prayer was said on our behalf. The clouds were gone. I was still fighting an internal battle, but I received so much strength and was able to think and act rationally to be a strength to Hannalyn in her struggle with depression and illness while we were in the hospital. That wasn't because of my faith, that was the faith of our family.

When we got out of the hospital and had our first follow up with Hannalyn's doctor a couple of days later, we left feeling discouraged. We had received great news - Hannalyn was improving and showed all signs of regaining full health. We had also received hard news - recovery would take much longer than we wanted and she will always be weaker. I fought an impression to share her story on social media because I am a private person and didn't want to look like I was unduly complaining - especially on the internet for all the world to see. However, when the feeling didn't leave, I took a deep breath and posted about her experience.

I know the exact moment the first prayer was said on Hannalyn's behalf because she smiled for the first time in three days.

I share these experiences because I need to express my immense gratitude for the people who prayed for Hannalyn, for Daniel and for me over the last week. We were, literally in a sense, the man sick with palsy who could not get through to Christ on our own. And YOU - the people who prayed for us - are the friends who got us near the Savior to be healed.

Hannalyn's improvement from Sunday in the hospital to Wednesday at home was significant - her infection was fought by antibiotics and she had improved appetite and color in her cheeks.

Hannalyn's improvement from Wednesday (when I posted) to Friday was breath-taking. She began to smile and laugh, she was willing to talk to and look at us again. She walked on her own. She slept through the nights and her oxygen levels were steady. Hannalyn started to be herself again and I know that it was because she felt, as I did, the faith and prayers of our friends and the people who care about us.

I cannot thank you enough for YOUR faith. I cannot express in words the miracles we have witnessed this week and the power we have felt. Thank you for carrying us with your prayers and for supporting us with your faith so that we could be healed by Christ. We are so so very grateful.

one year anniversary

I have felt strongly the need to share this story beyond this platform but I am terrified to do so. Despite my talk and moderately improved self-confidence, I am worried about the retaliation, the judgment and the effects on my family and my business. I hope that anyone who reads this can know that my purpose is not to garner pity or admiration, but simply to share my experiences through this ever-changing journey of life.



Today is a really big day for me.

One year ago - May 15, 2018 - I did two things that would forever change me:
1 - Visit a therapist
2 - Open the Book of Mormon for the first time in four years.

I feel immense pride for doing those things - and writing about it now. I also still feel shame and embarrassment. My weaknesses are many and they impact every aspect of my life from being a mother and wife to being a daughter and sister to being a business owner. That impact gives me cause frequently to mourn and wish that I were different, better, stronger. And while I've been learning a lot about grief and being open to feelings of all shapes and strengths and validating those feelings, today I want to write about the GOOD. Because there is much of it.

I'm just not sure where to start.

. . .

My therapist invited me a while back to think back on why I struggle with self-worth, to try to figure out when that started and how it effects me now. As I pondered and dug through memories, I was shocked to find how many things I had stuffed down deep beneath the surface. I was dismayed when I learned that there are several painful parts of my life that I hadn't dealt with at all - just shoved them into a dark corner of my heart where they began to fester. Now, don't get me wrong, my life has been so so good and very richly blessed. I was just brought face-to-face with a darker version of myself that was bitter and angry, tired and sad, hurt and grieving.

Before this experience, I was blaming my problems on other people (as we all tend to do). Through the counsel of my bishop and the inspiration of others who love to me, I was finally willing to start doing something about the PTSD induced depression and anxiety that was effecting my life more and more frequently. At that first meeting, I knew exactly what it was that was causing my pain - and it was another person. I could not, would not, forgive and I refused to self-reflect to see how else this pain was influencing my actions.

So we talked about that, and I still wasn't happy. I thought back to another experience where I blame a person for causing me pain, we talked about that, and I still wasn't happy.

Three of these specific times in my life, and the trauma that was introduced into my life by these people is real. They hurt me in indescribable ways that most people don't know about and don't understand if they do. Before these experiences, I can honestly say that I was happy in life. There were things I wasn't dealing with and problems that I had like everyone else, but it was three specific instances with three specific people that caused trauma to my soul and sent me on this downward spiral. But this isn't the point of today.

One of the first things my therapist invited me to do was to begin reading my scriptures again - to forge a relationship with God and learn my eternal worth. I grudgingly opened my scriptures that night and felt all my pride and hurt slip away. As I read, I was fascinated. I knew the words, I knew the stories, but I suddenly was understanding the meaning that was just for me. In less than one year, I have read the Book of Mormon four times over and I have absolutely loved it.

The next step for me was going back to the temple. I felt so unworthy and guilty about having let my temple recommend expire nearly three years prior. I was sure that I would be asked about why my recommend hadn't been renewed when I went to the interview and that I would be unable to give a satisfactory answer. But I wasn't. I was told how happy they were for me that I would be going to the temple soon. It took me five more months before I finally worked up the courage to go through the door. I didn't want to go alone, but I didn't want to go with anyone either. My therapist recommended I start in the Initiatory - a personal place that is one-on-one receiving ordinances. So I did, and I wept through my time there. I have since been going about once a month as I can. I have done two sessions in addition to spending time in Initiatory and I have felt so much love and peace from my Heavenly Father. I've always loved hearing about Eve and learning more about her has brought me so much joy.

I have to focus on that joy a lot. There is a tendency in me, and I think in many of us, to let guilt sneak in and take away our joy. Instead of being happy that my mental health is so improved on this day from one year ago, guilt and shame would have me focus on the embarrassment it is that I need help at all, that I can't do it myself. Guilt would leave me bereft of confidence in my mothering or business operating skills. Shame would drive me to a corner thinking of what others will think of me once they know that I need to visit regularly with a therapist.

Today, they can't do that. Today is about JOY.

I fought long and hard doing anything about what I suspected what PTSD. I knew that I was depressed. I knew that I felt more anxiety than I had previously. I googled my symptoms (never do that, I know) and was told that I was dying. No surprise, right? ;) But I was so convinced that I had to do it all on my own. I couldn't let anyone know what was happening to me. I was supposed to be an example, a leader, a support and strength - not someone weak, or sad, or "crazy".

But one year ago today, I took those two incredibly massive and yet surprisingly simple steps toward a better and brighter future for myself and I can honestly say, for the first time in years, that I am happy. I have more good days than bad ones. I look forward to getting out of bed. I reach out to people who I care about. I write. I read. I play. I enjoy my work.

Things are still hard. And some days, they are stupidly hard. I get so frustrated that one year later, I'm still not perfect! I still struggle to think positively and find motivation. I hurt when I see other people having fun together and I am struggling to sit up straight in my chair. I weep because I feel so alone.

And then I go to bed, I read my scriptures and write in my journal, I list a few things I loved about Hannalyn's antics during the day and somehow . . . I feel peace. Just a little bit, sometimes. Just enough to know that there are better days ahead and I am moving forward to a better place.

Do you want to know the best part about it all? How insanely grateful I am for the beautiful new relationships I have found through this devastating trauma. I have been able to connect with a few people in amazing ways that I never imagined possible. These people, and the closer relationship I have with my God, keep me on that forward trajectory. My hope is found in Christ and my reason to continue on is in the people who are around me.

One year ago, I struggled to see any reason to life other than being with Hannalyn.
Today, I look forward to finding more reasons to life, including being with my family every day.

And that is a miracle worth living a full and happy life for.

wallet purge

I needed something to distract me when we were in the hospital, so I took the time to clean out my wallet and look at all the goodies I found!

The yellow card is my very first library card from when I was 8 years old. And Blockbuster?! I remember being suckered into that at the desk as a 14 year old and thinking I'd get in so much trouble at home. Ha!

Happy Tuesday.

Book Review: The Paradox of Love

This was a fascinating read. I was easily pulled in with the beautiful descriptions and multi-faceted characters and landscape. The author did a great job pulling me in with feelings and incredible imagery. The characters were varied and had real depth to them. There is abuse in the story - both physical and emotional as well as some alcoholism that adds intensity to a plot line that is initially created from fear, mistrust and hatred of differences. A thorough and satisfactory story that compels you to finish and has a resolution that is surprising and yet happy while remaining realistic.  I really enjoyed it.

Find it on GOODREADS and AMAZON

the zoo! (weekend part 1 part 2)

Is there a point and purpose to the labeling of these posts as parts 1 or 2 or both? Not really, except now I know I didn't miss anything. ;) Ha!

Saturday we spent at the zoo with three of my siblings, my grandparents and my cute cousin who tagged along for the fun. It was a glorious day and Hannalyn's first time there in close to three years, so very overdue. We'll return again soon when she can run and enjoy it a little more. 

Lions.

Just like last time, she was SO apprehensive of that lion fountain! Hahaha!

Too cool to look at the camera for pictures. Thanks, Larissa. *eye roll*

I love these cute cousins. <3

Hannalyn's favorite exhibits by far were the water ones - she actually willingly got out of her stroller to get closer and sit and watch the sea lions swimming by. It made my heart so so happy.

#coolaunt

On the train. :)

Poor kid was pooped and slept the whole train ride between these two loving people. I'm so grateful for family who love my child so very much. 

Also - we bought a car! Ruby (Daniel's red car) decided she hates us and is on the verge of combustion so since we were in Salt Lake with more options we decided to do some looking and found a car we love. 2009 Honda Accord. 92k miles. Great price. So we did a crazy thing and bought it. She doesn't have a name yet, but we'll find it.

After the zoo, we picked up the car and then Hannalyn and I drove home while Daniel stayed for a bit to chat with his dad and grandma. I'm so so glad they had that time together.

The weekend was amazing. Thanks to everyone who made it so. <3

matthew & katrina's wedding (weekend part 1 part 1)

I win at blog post titles ;) 

Here are some pics I got from the happy day that was May 3 and our adventuring in Provo.

Not pictured: the beautiful walk from the temple to Provo Bakery and the delicious donuts we enjoyed, the test driving of cars we did and how excited Hannalyn was to ride in said cars, more pictures of incredible time spent with family including the luncheon and seeing my Grandparents in the evening, or the indescribable joy we felt being on the temple ground - Daniel specifically in the sealing room with all 10 of his siblings and his Dad physically there and Mom spiritually there.

It was a truly beautiful day.

I've affectionately named the above the #templecrew - 13 cousins having a ball and me getting ALL the baby cuddles. I need more of those. <3

Look at how Maylee is holding Hannalyn's hand to show her how to play the game!!! <3
And the kids tried to get her in this shot, but she was not interested.

So we did this one instead. <3 Love these sweet cousins.

13 Jackson cousins came out to play . . .

Daniel got lots of pictures with his siblings but somehow this was the only one on my device. *shrug* And Daniel has his eyes closed! (William probably does too and you just can't see through the sun glasses. Ha!)

These girls took such good care of my girl. It made my heart so so happy and so sad that we don't see them more often. As soon as we pay off these stupid medical bills, we want to take a trip! Hopefully it doesn't take too long. *sigh*

Mary snapped this incredible picture of us. Poor Hannalyn is so pale and looks so exhausted (she was) but I love this photo of us. Despite her sickness and the early morning driving, we cleaned up pretty ok. <3 Also, it's the first family picture of us that is a non-selfie in probably two years so . . . Yay!

Thanks Matthew and KaTrina for getting married! We love you guys! And we loved seeing everyone at the temple. We hope we'll get to do it again very very soon.

come follow me revelations

It hit me yesterday, with a rather loud gong in my head to be honest, that I need to write about some revelations that I've been having both personally and in talks with my therapist. I love talking with her because we talk about Christ and the scriptures and we both love the New Testament and teach Sunday School (though different classes).

When Come, Follow Me started at the beginning of the year, Daniel and I did awesome for the first month at setting aside time to read and study as a family. . . . Then for a couple of months we didn't. Now we're not regular, but we're trying really hard and making good progress and studying more often than not. Lots of room to improve, but that's ok. Anyway, I had not done personal study from the manual because I was finishing the Book of Mormon on a personal goal of mine. (Lame excuse cuz I could have done both, but I think something powerful happened.)

I had not read my scriptures in almost two years before I started going to therapy 51 weeks ago (almost a year, but not quite and it's important). Two weeks before I started going, and even in my first meeting with my therapist, I felt as though I was being banged over the head with the instruction to start. reading. scriptures. So I finally threw up my hands and did it.

The blessings have been countless.

Clearly my life isn't loads easier and my trials haven't magically disappeared. But the peace I feel and the revelations I've received, and the power I have felt literally lifting my head on dark days is truly fantastic.

I had a goal to read the Book of Mormon in one year from the time I started reading daily again. That was May 15, 2018. On April 1, 2019 I had read from the Book of Mormon 295 days (not all consecutively because life) and completed the book four times - three since October General Conference and the challenge from President Nelson to read between October and the end of the year. I wrote in my journal:

I can bear witness to the strength that comes from spending time with God in this Book. I do feel God's Spirit and see His hand in my life more often. I do feel stronger and braver and happier. I do listen better and love deeper. I am being oh so very blessed.

This coming from the girl who oh so stubbornly refused to pick up the book for two years or do anything spiritually for two years (including attend the temple) . . . and for what reasons I really couldn't say except pride and hurt and stubbornness.

So I finished my personal goal, and a couple of extras, and decided since I wasn't reading the Book of Mormon twice a day any more I needed to fill that time with Come, Follow Me. And it has been adding to the spirit-building experiences more than I ever dreamed possible. Just in the last few days with Hannalyn's pneumonia and our time in the hospital, I have been terrified that my PTSD will raise its ugly head and drag me back under. It has been there along the edges, but I have been managing it. Mostly. ;) But managing! I'm not under its control. I think it's because of the following scripture stories I've studied over the last couple of months in the New Testament and the power they give when I remember them and apply them directly to my experiences.

Are you ready for this? I think this is incredible and I'm kind of geeking out about it. Here we go:

The first one that hit me when I saw my therapist this week was the reminder of what I wrote about a couple of weeks ago when God mourned the death of His Son. Heavenly Father - for three days! - went and hid Himself in some corner of His universe as His Son was slaughtered by His other children. Even though He knew what was coming. He grieved. And then, He came back and gave us all the greatest gift that was ever given.
Expand this to the incredible and powerful reminder when reading the story about Lazarus dying. Jesus was literally on His way to that place to perform that miracle when He received the news. He knew what had happened and what was going to happen. And yet He didn't just cry, He wept. He still felt the sadness and the sorrow of the event. And we would never censure or judge Him for feeling sad! Yet for some reason, we expect ourselves to be better or stronger than God and not feel sad for the hard things that happen in life.  . . . what?! (ps read and you'll find this actually happened a few times - where Christ needed time to be alone, not that He always got to be, but where He took time to feel the emotion and let it work through Him then returned to serve. <-- a powerful principle there.)
Lesson for me: I have to let this pain run its course. To try to push it aside or shove it under will only feed it and make it worse. My body and brain will process it eventually. If I let it happen now - with prayer to God to keep me strong through it, I can come out on top. In fact, I'll be stronger because it won't be with me for months or years. I'll be ready to return and serve as Christ did.

I've been thinking a lot about faith over the last week. Hannalyn has had a couple of Priesthood blessings and I was reminded at one point that I need to have faith in those blessings and not need more and more of them. I had the thought at one particularly low point the other day that maybe my faith just isn't strong enough to heal her. I started sobbing as I worried that I, as her mother, didn't believe enough and she would be sicker longer because of me and my lack of faith. Almost immediately, several stories came to mind:

• "Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief." 
• The man with palsy who was healed because of the faith of his friends 
• The Good Samaritan helping the man (me) lying in the road (spiritually)
• When His apostles asked whether a man or his parents had sinned because he was born blind, and Christ said neither - but that the works of God may be made manifest.

And then miracles:

• Peter walking on water - he knew he could because he knew Christ was inviting him
• The woman healed immediately from touching His cloak
• When I, like the woman taken in adultery, receive mercy instead of condemnation

By small and often inadequate (in our mind) offerings are incredible miracles brought to pass.

I had the thought this week when talking to my therapist that I need to talk more to Christ and less to myself. The natural man is inside each of us - in the lies we tell ourselves consciously and unconsciously and even in just the simple circles we talk to ourselves. Why do I indulge and talk to that side of me that is happy to just keep me in the rut? Instead, what if I talked to Christ? Maybe this sounds crazy, but I think we need the mindset of remembering that Christ has already borne this sorrow. He won't do it after I do it, He isn't waiting to see how I handle it before He jumps in to help - He's already done it. And beating myself up about what happened or didn't happen in any part of my life isn't going to change that He already did it. He as an innocent person and powerful God took every pain and sorrow and wrong from my life - and the lives of everyone around me (and just everyone) - and takes care of it. Christ loves us so much that He comes to us and says, "Please. Let me carry this for you." And all we have to do is touch His cloak to be healed.

As I cried in my heart, "Please, God. Help thou my unbelief." I felt immediate and all-consuming peace. Suddenly my tears stopped, these beautiful and powerful and true stories were brought to my remembrance, I was comforted by knowing that Hannalyn isn't cursed because I did something wrong, and I felt . . . light. I felt His arms around me and knew that - whatever happens - He will carry me and Hannalyn and Daniel through it. 

The faith of our family and friends have worked miracles in our lives - both now, as well as in the past and will in the future. We could not do it without the prayers of those who love us. Thank you for giving us your strength and power and helping us make it through the crowd to the Savior to receive His healing touch. Your faith and His power give me strength and hope.

Thank you. <3

Book Review: All For You

I have been loving the Pine Valley Series. I think it is so much fun to have books that tie into a community of people so that you can see how the character's lives progress in small ways outside of their specific story. I feel as though there can be more depth and more authenticity to the story when it includes a world full of other people - not just the one or two characters focused on. So I really enjoyed this new addition to Pine Valley.

The story was entertaining with two great characters leading out. Their paths intertwine in perfect ways that lead for a fun, clean romance. There was suspense and some hero-action, I enjoyed the rawness of emotion and comedy of being in a new situation, and overall found this story's telling to be one of my favorites in this series. 

Read it yourself! Find it on AMAZON or GOODREADS

weekend part 2 (part 1)

I'm writing about our weekend backwards.

So this is the second part of our weekend that I'm writing about first. Why do I feel I need to explain that and keep explaining it? Not sure. But whatever. Let's move on now. . .

So last week, Hannalyn started getting sick. She developed a fever on Tuesday and added a small cough on Thursday. I didn't send her to school, but I also didn't worry too much about it because I didn't feel I needed to. We felt good about taking her with us to Provo for Daniel's youngest brother's wedding so we did. We also went to the zoo the next day. More of the fun details will come later in part 1 (part 2). The short of it is, even though Hannalyn wasn't at the top of her game, she was able to rest and sat in a stroller for the most of it. So we still didn't worry too much.

When we got home Saturday night, her cough worsened and she hardly slept Saturday night. We woke up the next morning and I knew that we would be taking her to the ER. So I showered and took some time getting things gathered. Daniel wanted to take her to a woman we know who does wholistic therapy, so we went there first and then headed to the ER.

We were admitted, they attached oxygen and an IV for fluids, did strep & RSV tests as well as x-rays. Eventually they came back and told us that she had pneumonia and we'd be staying 24-48 hours for treatment.

Even though I had been prepared for an overnight stay at the hospital (call it a gut feeling), I was not excited. I mean, who ever is? But I could feel my mind trying to slip back into the protective shadows that I wallowed in while Hannalyn was at Primary Children's after she was born. I kept telling myself that this was going to be different, she is older and stronger and we know exactly what is wrong. And really, pneumonia is fairly easy to treat even though it takes forever to recover from it and her lungs will always be a little more delicate now. So I kept trying to point out the good even as my soul shied away from the pain that I knew was coming.

The first few hours weren't too bad. I was scarily familiar with the routines and remembered more about the machinery than I had expected. Hannalyn was doing ok, even though she kept trying to pull out her oxygen and the IV. They eventually put stickers on her cheeks and wrapped her hand to keep the equipment safe. She was so mad at me - wouldn't look at or talk to me. And I don't blame her. I was mad at me, too. Mad that I'd let it go so far, mad that I couldn't do more myself to help her, mad that the doctors and nurses seemed completely unsympathetic. And scared - mostly of myself and what I recognized as PTSD re-manifesting itself through flashbacks and feelings of shock and despair. I also recognized, though, that because I knew what had happened before to me, I was better equipped this time to fight it and stave off the fear. For a time, anyway.

We checked in at 10a and she was moved to a room for the overnight stay about 11:30a. She was started on antibiotics almost immediately after and we were left to our own devices. Daniel had gone back to church but my dad was with me and I was so grateful. When church ended, we were visited by my mom and siblings and Daniel came back, too. The rest of the day was off and on having people there with Hannalyn and I and just watching out for her as she slept. She had some Tylenol for a fever that keep jumping up and I learned that she holds her breath during movies (something I really didn't need to know).

It's actually a funny story - Daniel and I were talking and suddenly Hannalyn's oxygen just tanked. I looked at her, and her eyes were wide on the tv screen. I told her she needed to breathe and she said, "NO." I looked at the movie she was watching and it was Incredibles where the robot is destroying the city at the end. I looked at her again and told her to breathe and she said, "No." I reminded her that everything was going to be ok, because she'd seen it before so she needed to take a breath. She looked at me, then inhaled and her oxygen jumped back to normal. *sigh* Not something I needed to know about her, but kind of funny.

The evening passed slowly and I kept myself as busy as I could, FaceTimed a couple of my siblings and took a nap while Daniel was there. When the night shift came on, I was thrilled to see that one of the nurses was in a show at the theatre. It was so nice to finally see a familiar face and he took such good care of us while we were there - including a 4am changing of the bedding since Hannalyn had been sweating so much and bringing me a recliner to sleep in instead of the regular chair in the room. It was a true tender mercy and I was so so grateful.

Nothing exciting happened until her regular pediatrician came in about 8am and talked to me about pneumonia, what to expect over the next day and coming week, how recovery works, why we needed to be in the hospital and how we'd do at home. It ended with the all-clear to return home after her second dose of antibiotics and with the understanding that we'd bring home oxygen for her as well. She was only on .5 liter so I didn't see a problem with that at all.

Fast forward to noon and we were home! Both my dad and Daniel helped us out and we made it with only a few tears from Hannalyn. We have so much equipment at our house and it is SO noisy that it is driving me up the wall with nerves and anxiety. Ok. It's not SO much equipment, but it is three tanks of oxygen plus a big thing that uses the air around it, plus a humidifier (a big noisy one) and a vital signs monitor to watch the oxygen and heart rate. Pretty minimal, really, but so much for me and especially with the noise. I can't stand it. But I'd much rather be here than at the hospital.

Yesterday passed slowly after we were home. She didn't really get a nap because the guy bringing the oxygen equipment came and went a couple of times and then Daniel got home from work. She was eating more, but still not great and wouldn't move off the couch. We finally got to give her a bath and she loved it - lay in the water for a long time just breathing and relaxing (which she usually doesn't do - she's an in & out kid). After she was ready for bed and so was in bed and asleep by 8pm. She only got tangled up in her cords twice during the night, but I was ok with it because she was relaxing more than she had in the hospital where she lay stiffly on her back. Her oxygen levels stayed up all night, only dropping once during a particularly bad coughing spell and even staying up when she'd twisted so much that her tubing came away from her nose. That made me SO optimistic for taking it out sooner rather than later as we wean her off of it. We're down to between 1/8 and 1/4 liter today. I wanted to move it more, but this morning she was bouncing around a bit in her levels so I've tried to leave it consistent.

The end of the story, for today, is that she is fine. Getting lots better as judged by her appetite, willingness to smile and laugh and increased interaction with me. She's drinking lots of water and I'm making her eat. She prefers laying to standing or sitting, but I make her stand where I can so she can build up her strength again. She won't go to school this week, so she'll have missed two full weeks when she goes back and only have two weeks left until the end of school. I know it's only preschool, but Hannalyn thrives there and has grown so much. I am a very poor substitute and she's not as motivated with me. Especially right now since she's still mad at me for the equipment attached to her.

I am also fine. Not great, not good, just fine. I'm working really hard to stay out of my head and was able to meet with my therapist this morning which was so beneficial. We talked about the energy we waste when we fight processing our emotions - if we let it happen and run its course, we'd be much better off short and long term. I told her about my fears of the PTSD returning in force and she told me that just acknowledging that I know the signs and have already pushed away the temptation is a huge step in the right direction. We talked about how Jesus mourned and was sad - even when He knew the end! He wanted to be alone many times (couldn't always), but occasionally did take time by Himself to commune with His Father. He felt things as we feel them in the moment as He experienced life. We don't need to feel guilty about being sad because in order to be like Christ, we need to feel as He did and He felt sad.

I saw something beautiful lately that made me cry. It talked about how Jesus wept. Even though He was on His way to see Lazarus and knew the miracle that God had planned, Jesus wept when He learned that Lazarus had died. And yet, look at the incredible miracle and lessons we learn from this circumstance. I've been thinking about that a lot as I have revisited what I wrote about God mourning when Christ was killed and the miracles that followed. It's pretty incredible and gives me hope for myself. I can't wallow, but I can grieve. I should grieve.

We also talked about self-talk and how we say things to ourselves and about ourselves that we would never say to or about others. And the thought struck me that instead of talking to myself, I need to talk to Christ. You know what I mean? Especially when sad or mad or in destructive self-dialogue, start talking to Christ instead. He's already covered all these wounds and imperfections, He knows and He's taken care of it - so talk to Him about it instead of to yourself. Myself. I think I stumbled across something really powerful there. I hope I can practice it well and become better.

Sum up (again): we are good. Looking down a long road to recovery and essentially some physical therapy from me that Hannalyn will hate, but she's going to be just fine. I am doing better than I expected thanks to many things including people and prayers and therapy. I just need to not go stir-crazy and be grateful for the slower pace and things will be great.

Things will be great. :) 

changing what I'm praying for

I've been thinking a lot about prayer lately. In large part, this is because of a book I am reading called Living a Praying Life Without Fear. It's really stellar, and I've been meaning to blog about it and share some of my journey using it. I haven't though because it has become incredibly personal and touching. It's been amazing, actually, just how much I've learned in just a few pages. I have been looking at myself (and my fears) in very different ways and approaching God in a better way.

I feel so much better. And just saying that makes me smile and want to cry happy tears.

Lately, though, I've had the thought that I need to make another adjustment in my prayers. And it's one that terrifies me.

You see, for four years or so, I have been praying for another child. That probably comes as no surprise to those who actually read this but I know it would be very surprising to some people who see my in "my career"and think that is what I want rather than more children. But I have been praying for years that we could have more children. We haven't been actively trying for children all that time, and God has told me that infertility treatments aren't our answer, but another baby has been on my mind for a long time.

When I had an awful miscarriage in 2015, I thought it was because God wanted to give me the opportunity to do one more theatre production before I "settled down". Well, I did what I thought was my last show and about three months later got literally shoved out the door with the feeling that I needed to start looking for a space for a theatre. The rest is history.

But since then, and since the theatre is doing so well, and since I have met people who I think would be much better at running a theatre than I am . . . I have prayed many times for a child and told Heavenly Father that I would do anything for one - even give up the theatre. I would sell it, I would find new management, I would never do a show again - if only I can have one more baby. For a while it became a one-sided argument with Him.

I would say I know that there are more souls who need to join our family. And He would remain silent.
I would say I know that I am not qualified for this job (the theatre) and I can find someone else to do it. He would remain silent.
I would scream What else do I need to offer? I'm willing to give up anything EVERYTHING! And He would remain silent.

Finally, I lost hope. And for more than a year, my body shut down. Due to the PTSD, anxiety and depression I was not dealing with and now the stress of what I felt was the ultimate rejection - my body went into survival mode. That means that for more than a year, I didn't have a period. Sounds kind of nice, right? But really it was torture. I would still have cramps and added migraines that would last two weeks at a time. And, even worse, in my twisted mind I made it seem as though God was punishing me. For what, it didn't matter. I was inadequate and lacking and so my body would be unable to do the one thing I wanted it to do the very most.

I was surviving, but only barely. And only wanted to because of Hannalyn. That girl has saved me more times in her short five years of life than either of us will ever know. Her light and goodness. Her unending love. Her spirit gave me something to hold on to as I floated in the water - a tether keeping me from just floating away. The guilt that I felt, that I still feel, from "relying on her too much" is enormous. We aren't supposed to put that pressure on our children. And so while I was grateful for the strength, I also continued to sink in despair.

Going to therapy for a year has helped. Serving others in my capacity as a theatre director has helped. Beginning to read my scriptures again, getting my temple recommend, trying to pray to God - all these things have helped. And I feel so much better.

I don't always feel hopeFUL, but I am not hopeLESS. It's an important and significant distinction.

But then out of the blue this week came a new thought. I was getting back into that one-sided argument with God. I started with the usual, saying:

I know there are more souls who need to join our family. And He would remain silent.
What else do I need to offer? You know that I am willing to give up anything EVERYTHING!
. . .
And He said, "What are you willing to keep?"

I was so startled, I almost laughed out loud. And then the thought, oh so gently and oh so quietly came: "You are willing to give up the theatre, but are you willing to keep the theatre and have another child?"

My stomach dropped to the floor.

Because I was not wanting to hope for another child. The one-sided argument started out of bad habits, out of watching women who don't want children have them and feeling resentful, out of feeling inadequate in my position at the theatre and knowing others could do it better. I thought if I put up barriers around my heart and kept praying the same old things, eventually those things would just happen.

But God came in and now I think I need to change what I have been praying for.

Before I was praying for a baby and to find someone new to run the theatre.
Now I feel like I need to pray for a baby and the strength, courage, and energy to continue to run the theatre.

That is WAY more scary. MUCH more stress-inducing. Freaks me out to know that I will be unable to both be a good mom to a newborn and lead the theatre.
And yet . . . I feel so much peace.

I don't know what will happen. I feel so strongly that there are little spirits who desperately want to come to our family. I hope and pray every day that they will come, and now I also pray every day that I will be led by God and be able to continue to lead the theatre in the way He wants it to go - newborn and all, or not.

What I do know is that as I've reevaluated my prayers and started communicating with my Heavenly Father in better, more authentic ways - I have felt my struggles oh so very slowly, becoming easier to bear. They aren't really going away, but I don't feel alone and that has been more than half the battle. 

I also don't let myself get into one-sided arguments. Because that's futile anyway. Ha! :)

Here's to the future in all its unforeseeable glory.