Broken

It's been awhile. I haven't wanted to write. It's hard to explain.

A part of me feels so guilty for not moving on or letting go or getting over the grief. I still feel so stuck in denial and in a playback of emotions and feelings. I feel bad for not being a happy person at times that I probably should.

I can be so productive in a day and by that afternoon I'd rather hide away and sleep to push away emotion. Some days I just feel sad and I don't want to change it. Some days I feel guilt. Other days I feel angry. Either way, I feel like I'm trying to run from the feelings but they just keep catching up to me.

Driving down the road, on a Sunday about a week ago while listening to Sounds of Sunday I heard the song I used for part of the words at my dad's funeral. It's all about being broken and the growth that can come from that as a result of the Atonement of Christ.

But see, I've been angry a lot. I've literally pounded on walls, slammed doors, screamed into a pillow, and used MMA workouts to try and dispel that feeling. It still comes back, though not as consistently as it did before. I haven't connected much hope or healing to my dad's death yet.

When I heard that song over the radio, I listened again to those words and thought of Father's Day with my family. I was taken back remembering my family shedding tears over that broken earth used for the burial services. I thought of the sod pieced together but broken and struggling to connect all those pieces.

This is my heart and I know the hearts of my family; broken and struggling to put the pieces back together. Our tears that fell over my dad's grave that day and so many more that have fallen and are to fall, may over time contribute to the healing and connecting of that broken sod. So, while I don't feel the connection yet and I know that it won't ever be as it was before, hopefully there will be healing in time. Hopefully the broken hearts will find a new "normal" and mend the tattered pieces.

Hopefully I can learn to better take part in the healing and enabling powers of the Atonement and Resurrection, remembering they are there.

Dad

My dad is gone from this Earth. I no longer have his tangible presence. The rest of his presence is hard to feel right now through the pain, the hurt, the anger, the sadness.

Writing is one of the only ways I feel like I can adequately express feelings so they are no longer stuck in my head. I still don't feel like I know how to write about my dad being gone. I still want him to come back.

My mom asked the kids to share some memories for the funeral. These are the ones I felt I could fit into five minutes. There are so many more and so many I wish we could still make. Until more can be made I will strive to remember all I can.

Memories

I put off compiling this until last night. I didn't know how or what to share. On Tuesday driving back here from Logan I prayed silently for a long time that my Heavenly Father would help me remember and recall the memories.

I just remember him being my dad. I remember hearing the story of him sitting watch outside my hospital door to ensure my mother and I were able to rest when finally getting to sleep after surgery to remove a tumor in my spinal column. He would NOT let the nurses come through that door when his girls were trying to rest. They had to go through him first!

I remember him reminding me constantly, "Daddy loves you." His long distance hugs over the phone which I got plenty of being the long distance kid for the last 10 years. Our phone conversations ended with these so very often that he would tell me to take my left hand and put it on my right shoulder, my right hand and put it on my left shoulder and squeeze. "That's daddy giving you a hug."

I remember every time I walked out the door of the house, his chair sits right by that front door, and he would almost always no matter if we hugged already, stick his hand out and grab mine to squeeze before leaving. I remember sitting on his lap, even with his 30 year old daughter, he'd pull me in tight with my head on his shoulder and tell me that he was proud of me, Nathan, and all three of our little ones.

My dad would give anything to anybody but some things were harder for him to part with, like his hat. He didn't let many people handle certain hats but once he had grandkids all his hats became fair game. I know Nathan and Kamden have a number of hats given to them from dad, including a nice brown cowboy hat to Kamden like the one sitting with my dad here today. My mouth hung open a little bit the day my dad handed that hat over to his grandson without hesitation.

I remember him telling me countless times as a teenager in his serious voice, "Don't you roll your eyes at me!" I remember watching the 5-8 minute train video called "Give it Your Best" that I have no idea where he found, every morning before school for months. We sighed every morning he'd pull us into his room, sit us on his bed and push play to that VHS. I think we all expected it to last for a week or so but instead it last for at least a month if not longer! Every morning! We sang "Love is Spoken Here" often in our house, but very begrudgingly, when my dad caught us fighting.

I remember strict curfews, guns being talked about when we went out on dates, and strict questions of approval to an incoming son-in-law. I remember seeing my sleeping babies on his lap, huge bear hugs, and kisses to those babies, and his face light up when they walked in the door. I remember him being scared to hold his brand new grandbabies, worrying about being so very gentle with those hands of his.

I remember his hands. In 2012 on my family blog I wrote about these hands.

"My dad is not a small man, and neither are his hands. Although, he does not have lengthy fingers or hands, they are solid and if you've ever met the man, you have probably met his strong handshake as well. He's not afraid to use those hands for all jobs, rough and tough. However, I know of many times he has used those hands to smooth back some hair from his daughters face or to cradle his grandchildren.

These hands, of my father's have not seen the likes of lotion too many times but we couldn't count how many times they have been covered in grease or dirt. The roughness in his hands tell of many trials, small and great that have been fought head on, while those small smooth spots tell of humility in times that he pulled himself up, always working harder and harder."

My dad taught me to Never give up. When I was thinking of what I felt portrayed the life of my dad, and what he would want me to remember, I thought of one of my favorite songs called, "Broken" by Kenneth Cope.

The song reads:

Broken clouds give rain
Broken soil grows grain
Broken bread feeds man for one more day

Broken storms yield light
The break of day heads night
Broken pride turns blindness into sight

Broken souls that need His mending
Broken hearts an offering
Could it be that God loves broken things..?

Broken chains set free
Broken swords bring peace
Broken walls make friends of you and me

To break the ranks of sin
To break the news of Him
To put on Christ til His name feels broken in

Broken souls in need of mending
Broken hearts an offering
I believe that God loves broken things

But, oh, our broken faith
Our broken promises
Sent love to the cross...

But still that broken flesh
That broken heart of His
Offers us such grace and mercy
Covers us with love undeserving

My broken soul that cries for mending
My broken heart an offering
I'm convinced that God loves broken me...

Praise His name, our God loves broken things.


My dad had plenty of "broken" moments in life. He was broken down and built back up a number of times but he never gave up. He learned to partake of a perfect Atonement from his Savior every day of his life and he used the brokenness to improve. No matter the challenges he didn't give in. He learned to hold strong and keep going.

This is my dad and so much more. He was mine and that is a tender mercy I was blessed with greatly. Thanks daddy. I look forward to the day I will sit on your lap again and feel you squeeze me tight. You always told me, "Daddy loves you."

I love you too.

Sunday Will Come

My thoughts are turned heavenward today.

I've been intensely focused on making plans in our lives right now; trying to make sense of the uncertainties I feel but my thoughts the last few days have kept turning to stories I hear in the lives of others. Right as I am beginning to become frustrated with those uncertainties the Lord has reminded me of a very real struggle in the life of another. He's trying to soften the heart of mine that sometimes bears stony ground.

I'm reminded lately of friends and family with much more uncertainty in jobs or moving, those dealing with a very real struggle of depression and anxiety, some living with struggles and the fear of terminal cancer, family fighting a valiant, but tiring fight against cystic fibrosis,  parents mourning the loss of a child, strangers and those I know battling infertility and more. The struggles in this life can be so very real and raw.

I've also seen great miracles  and cause for celebration happen in the lives of some I know closely, not so closely, and not at all. The miracle of adoption for a sweet family waiting many years, the birth of precious new babes into the world, vacation for some who haven't experienced one in years, and solutions to health problems coming in the lives of others.

I've wanted to envelop each and every person, struggling or celebrating, in a hope to send them one more bit of hope and love in their journey. I look at the two, those struggling and those celebrating, and don't know why some have cause to mourn or endure pain at the moment while others have cause to celebrate, but one thought comes to mind with Easter last weekend  and the words of the prophet and apostles of my church spoken in a worldwide General Conference. We each have a Savior, He is real and he is involved in the daily struggles and celebrations we experience. Each name is written on his heart, in his blood, and on the palms of his hands. He knows our struggles and our joys. He knows the each twist and turn on the path we are called to walk. He knows the way because he is the way.

I find the joining together of hearts a miracle. Sometimes hearts are joined together more deeply through struggle and sometimes through joy, but I believe the Lord joins our hearts together in an effort to show us a glimpse into the very real and personal love he feels for us.

He is forever our advocate with the Father, in joy or pain. He is fighting your cause. He is walking by your side and at times carrying you in arms that will never fail you. Sunday will come.

Leaning on the Lord in Motherhood

Motherhood is on my mind this morning in relation to this scripture!

The thought above comes from what has always been one of my favorite scriptures. I have a habit of trying to lean on my own understanding sometimes and it never works out quite right when I do!

Yesterday was quite the day at our house! It was full of lots of messes, spaghetti everywhere, bread crumbs, nibbled carrot bits everywhere, torn books, wet sheets, crying kids, and some definite disagreements between mom and children. There were so many times I would sit down to finally take a breather before I went crazy and then something else would happen ro littles ones would be knocking on my door or taking over my relaxing, hot bath as their own.

For most of my day yesterday I leaned on my own understanding, frustrated that what I was doing all day, every day didn't seem so important. But, after the day was more than half over I said a little prayer and realized how much the Lord cares for me and what I am doing.

I asked my husband the other day why as a mother sometimes I feel that I hear the Lord less than I did at other times in my life. It seems terrible to say or think that but it is true for me most of the time. It seems it's hard to hear him over the screaming children and the stress of another thing to be done even though I feel I am doing his work.

But, I was reminded yesterday that even when I might not be hearing him because there are a million other things going on he is there. The thing is do we trust in him and remain faithful even on those days we feel we don't hear him over the screaming children, beeping timer, stress of bread crumbs and wet sheets?



Even though I am doing the divine work of motherhood that doesn't mean the Lord's work is always easy. Some moments it's exhausting and it includes broken hearts, sacrifice, and tears. But other moments it includes restoration, complete comfort, and more tear, but of joy. It is the daily consistent work whether exhausting or restoring that brings us to him as we do his work.

Keep going! Motherhood is hard and it's not always very glamorous. It's sacrifice and exhausting but it's also restoring, divine, and incredibly joyful. Keep going! There is joy to be found in those trenches!

Consistency: Turn Your Test into Your Testimony

I've always been my worst critic. Most of us are, right? And, I've always worried about what other people thought of me. If someone disproved of something I did it would affect me for days. Sometimes it still does.

Here's the thing. Some of us are both with an inherent sensitivity and it can be both a blessing at times and other times it can be incredibly hard to reason through. Naturally, I am an introvert so my thoughts, which are many, wander through my head and most often they stay there. Along with that I worry often about others as well and how they are doing in this journey called life. Some days it's like one big boatload of worry.

Many of you know I struggled with postpartum depression after having both of my babies. I was supposed to be incredibly happy and beaming with love but inside I was torn apart, feeling alone, and defeated. I did not feel adequate and it was a challenge to get through the day to day activities as a mother, let alone anything else. Emotion (good and bad) swirled within my head and my heart and it seemed to rest their permanently, sometimes feeling as if I was unable to function and paralyzed to act.

I started a journey into improving my health last year, both mentally and physically. I started reading my scriptures more regularly and personal development daily as well. I relied on my Savior to pull me through and to help me to work on myself. Regular exercise and good nutrition became a part of my daily habits. I didn't feel better overnight. It took time and hard work. It took consistency compounded over time but within time I was feeling much more alive. I am grateful for the courage, understanding, and empathy I gained from this experience.

So, one would think that depression would be a thing of the past for me. I have to tell you, and anyone else who has experienced depression can as well, that some days I find myself feeling those intense emotions again or complete numbness. And, I know it comes on both good days and bad days sometimes. I'm not sure the reasons and this post isn't about those. It's about more than that. It's about the journey.

It's easy to go through life thinking that once we move past one hurdle it will forever be in our past. This isn't true of anything. I know this to be true with both my depression and with my obsession over food and my body I have had in the past. I've never dealt with addictions of alcohol, drugs, or other things but I know it is true for those things as well. Days will come that it seems harder to pull yourself from that life of depression or addiction or obsession no matter who you are. The true test is in how we combat that and deal with it. Do we take action to move ourselves forward or do we wallow? Are we consistent with the actions that we know keep us from giving in to that old self?

Life is about consistency for me. Some things I'm still really struggling to find consistency with...even some of my strengths but we can't gain a testimony without the test. That testimony comes through consistent, daily effort to better ourselves...to do the things that are easy to do but also easy not to do. Power comes through action and that is the hardest thing to do sometimes! But, do we want to look back realizing we let things slip right through our grasp? NO! We work for the good things...we hold on so tight that blisters form because we know in the end it will be worth it. In the end we will look back and realize that when it got tough and it was really easy to give up and give in, we didn't. Instead we fought the good fight, we finished the course, we kept the faith!

Fighting our Silent Battles

As a mother I can't tell you how many times I've woken up in the middle of the night to the cries of one of my babies and I can't find any specific reason why they are crying but it is more than aware through their cries that they are in some kind of pain, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional. Part of the unspoken job of a mother is to comfort our children, to ease their pain and when we can't do that  we feel a pain (I would venture to say at times) as intense as our dear child's.

As my companion and I were Visiting Teaching (a calling to minister to individual sisters in my church) a sister in my ward we learned that her daughter in law had been diagnosed with brain cancer, which was found to be inoperable. While discussing her thoughts and feelings she told us of how it was much more difficult to see her children go through the struggles of life and learn those lessons than it was to experience them herself.

We spoke of seeking the comfort and aid of the Lord in our times of struggle. We spoke of the Lord's hand reaching for ours always and how we also must reach in order to receive the help he so eagerly wants to provide us with.

The most challenging battles we fight in life are fought in silence. Those around us can not know of our pain. These silent battles, whether they are those of a child crying out in the middle of the night, or those of the child's mother, aching for the ability to ease the pain of that innocent child in her arms, are difficult but essential. In The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery it says, "It's only with the heart that one can see rightly. What's essential is invisible to the eye."

It is true in our lives that the lessons to be learned in life are only seen with the heart. They are invisible to the eye and therefore the silent struggle used to lead us there can only be seen and experienced in the throes of the heart. It is also true that the only healing balm adequate for these struggles comes through our Savior, Jesus Christ who took those silent battles upon himself one by one.