A Weight to Carry

I understand Frodo. He had to carry the ring -- his burden to bear -- and over time, the burden became heavier. "It's such a weight to carry," Frodo cried out to Sam, as the ring pressed upon his soul, and threatened to ruin him. But he had to carry on, he had to complete his task. Everything depended on his ability to carry the load. Of course he was never alone, but to shoulder the weight of the ring was his individual contribution to the mission. He had to endure, to outlast the strength of darkness, that tried to overshadow the courage of his Hobbit-heart.

Sometimes I feel like Frodo.

I find that as time goes on, the weight of grief becomes more of a burden. In all honesty, I felt more light and free in the first year after Charles passed away. They say that time heals. The passage of time is very helpful, as moments fade to memories; but it does not remove the weight, or lift the pressure that seems to push against my heart and mind. That pressure grows ever stronger.

Grief sits like a blanket of cold steel, on my soul and body. I think everyone who has ever experienced grief would describe it as "a weight." When you are packing around sorrow, it is like going through life hefting a box of bricks. Sometimes that grief-pressure manifests itself spiritually, sometimes physically: often both.

I have felt both the physical and spiritual effects of sorrow. It ebbs and flows over time, as I continue to adjust to my new reality. The other night I was brought to my knees in agony. I had to retreat to my closet, so I could fully release my tears and sobbing without waking the children. I poured my heart out to my Heavenly Father, and poured my tears out on an available shirt on the ground.

I thought everyone was asleep, and I was safe to unleash the white-water rapids from my eyes.

But I was wrong.

I was still sniffling when I walked out of the closet, and crawled into bed. Sammi could hear me from her room, and she said, "Mom, you are beautiful, and daddy loves you."

More tears.

With time I have learned how to shoulder the grief-weight more gracefully, but it has never left. I do not think the sorrow from losing Charles will ever fully leave in this lifetime. My spiritual skin just grows thicker, and more firm; to protect me from the rawness of my reality that Charles is in another world. But that reality can come and smack me in the heart at unexpected moments, leaving me like a spiritual newborn, crying for my Heavenly Father to scoop me up, and hold me. Only He can look upon my heart, and see my need at every hour of every day, and into the stillness of the lonely night.

He is always there.

In this life we carry scars. They are reminders of the pain we have gone through, and the experiences we have had -- the burdens we carry. I appear "normal" on the outside. Those who see me at the grocery store, or out and about, do not know the load I carry. But my scars are deeply etched in my heart, sometimes throbbing as a painful reminder of what I have seen and experienced. The scars will be with me always. Though I may move forward, I will never forget.

Death. I have seen death. And not just of my husband, but of my hopes and dreams for our future life together. My whole world has been turned upside-down, and what I imagined for the future has all been changed to having a hope for a life so different from what I dreamed. I still dare to hope. I will never stop hoping for a new bright future. I battle with two opposing forces daily: I hurt, and I hope.

There is a loneliness that spreads in my heart like a disease. I am never really alone. I am surrounded by people, and often. But there is something about being without a companion that rips a hole in my heart, and leaves an empty space that craves to be filled. The love of friends, and children, and family... these are all different kinds of love. The love that can exist in marriage is another level of sweetness and romance; I find myself deeply aching without such love in my life.

I have read that it is important to be "whole" before getting married, especially getting remarried after a dramatic event like death or divorce. I agree, to some degree, that being whole is ideal... but who ever really feels like they have arrived at perfection, and are ready to embark in a perfect life, with another perfect person? I have been given counsel to "get myself in order" and I find this very good advice. I am not meant to "make myself perfect."  I am just meant to prepare myself as best I can, to be ready for future relationships. I am doing my best to prepare myself.

For me, part of feeling whole would be filling the hole in my heart with love. I know what love is, I know what a good marriage is, and I miss it. I know it will not be the same as it was with Charles, not just because it would be a different companion, but I am not the same -- not at all. I have changed so much, from all that I have gone through.

The loneliness of life without a companion adds to the weight of sorrow. When things happened that were challenging before, Charles was always there to comfort when he could, or he would at least try. We shared an intimacy of understanding and love that made life's challenges bearable. Now I tackle all things with the moxie in my own heart, and the power that is given from my Heavenly Father. I would wish the closeness to Heaven on everyone, minus the sorrow of grief you must pass through to get there.

Sometimes working things out in my own mind, without a sounding board, can be dizzying. I have to carve out time just to be still and ponder, to receive the revelation I need to make decisions large and small. The message I continue to hear is to be patient, and all things will come together for my good.

I love being patient. It is my favorite.

Who knows what the future holds... it is a mystery to me. I just have to take life one day at a time, and trust in my Heavenly Father that things will work out, as I do what He needs me to do.

I will carry my load... there and back again.

In the Silence of the Night

I miss having someone to talk with. I am very blessed with great friends, family, and even wonderful children who are lovely communicators. Truly, I am so grateful for the people around me, my heart is filled with gratitude as I think of how lucky I am to be surrounded by such tremendously good people. I would go crazy without those who have stuck with me, and listened to my sometimes ridiculous and silly thoughts and feelings. I love the people that have been put in my life, and I will remember to thank my Heavenly Father for friends and family, as I say my prayers tonight.

However, I miss having a companion to talk with: especially at night. Talking with the love of your life is different than talking with friends and family. I miss the closeness and the affection that is shared when you really connect with someone by talking, and attempting to understand each other. Sure, there are other aspects and things I miss from a marriage relationship; but there are some nights that the sound of silence makes me want to cry.

Some of my favorite moments with Charles, were staying up late at night, and talking about everything. He was super chatty, and had lots of thoughts, and I adored listening to him and his insights from his perspective on the world. His perspective was very different from my own. Sometimes we would discuss deep doctrine and other fun topics, and he would help me to see clearly things I had not considered before. I learned so much from him, and I miss that.

I miss that right now. All I hear are the croaking frogs out my window, and the sound of my fingers clicking away on the laptop. Oh, and I hear Henry's deep-breathing as he falls asleep cuddled next to me.

One of the reasons I want to get married again, is to have that closeness, and someone to talk with. At the end of the day, I crawl in bed alone. (Well, I often find Henry next to me.) I lay in bed to the sound of silence, except for an occasional stirring coming from the children. Do not get me wrong, I enjoy silence as much as the next person, especially after a long day. But night after night, I put a lid on my thoughts and feelings, and store them deep inside. Of course my feelings have the potential to be unleashed in blog form, if I feel like sharing -- but there is no comparison between clicking on the keyboard, and true communication with a companion. Though I am grateful for my blog, it does not cuddle me when I am through sharing my thoughts and feelings. And sometimes I just need a hug... it has been a really long time since I have been good and hugged. (Friends and family hugs are great, not the same though.)

Honestly, I am so grateful for technology, and the ability to communicate with others in different ways, because it helps me to feel connected to the world, and it helps that silence a little, by having the ability to get some raw emotions out. But, wow, what I would give to have a real live human crawl in bed with me at the end of the day. Wouldn't that be nice? (Henry is a human... but his communication skills are a little limited, he is only 4.)

I would love someone to talk to at the end of the day, someone to listen, someone to hold me. I miss the sound of a whispered "I love you" in my ear, before I drift off to sleep. I miss whispering, "I love you, too."

The silence grows more thick and pressing on my heart. My longing grows ever stronger.

If, someday, I do find a companion... we will have some pretty interesting conversations, that is for certain!

The Joys and Glories of Creation

Heavenly Father wants me to find, and use my talents. He wants me to know the joy of creation. I am meant to develop the gifts that He has given me, and share them with others. Perhaps the world will be the recipient of my talents, or perhaps my audience exists in my own home. The size of the audience does not matter; the size of my joy matters.

My joy matters to Heavenly Father.

I recently received a blessing -- a Father's blessing -- and I was reminded of the need to use my individual talents, in very specific ways. It was a uniquely special blessing, and it filled my heart to know that my Heavenly Father wants me to develop, and improve, in the things that I love to do. He wants me to take the time to become more skilled and proficient in the particular things that I enjoy, and might even have a knack for. I was a bit shocked at some of the "requests" that Heavenly Father made of me, but my heart filled with hope, especially knowing that He cares what I choose to do.

It has taken me a while to discover what I really love to do. I was the kind of girl in college who could not settle on pursuing just one field of study. I tried a bunch of different kinds of courses, but nothing was calling to me: nothing felt natural.

I thought I might be inclined towards Psychology, and become a counselor. I took a lot of courses, to see if it was right for me. I liked the idea of helping others overcome their problems. But the deeper I got, the less appealing the idea became. I knew I would have a hard time abiding by such rigid rules, when offering guidance to others. I determined I would make a dreadful counselor; I am far too opinionated for such a career. I would also have a serious problem becoming emotionally involved with each client; separating business and personal is not an easy task for me.

As time has gone on, I have learned more about myself, and what I really love and enjoy doing. I am inclined towards things that require creativity and observation. I have discovered that I am a sort of extroverted-introvert. I love to speak, teach, sing, and be in front of others in various ways: I enjoy it, a lot. But when it comes down to having a social life, I lean towards intimate family and friends, and I am totally happy being at home doing my thing. I prefer one-on-one interaction over having large groups of friends, because I love to deeply connect with others.

The more I learn about myself, the more it makes sense why I love to do certain things, and not others. For example, I love to do Photography because it is a way that I can step back and observe the world around me, while capturing the beautiful things that I see. I have always been an observer, even a philosopher of sorts. It is very distracting, actually, when I am in a classroom setting. I can have a hard time focusing, as my mind wonders and wanders, to the moon and back.

One of the nice things about Photography, is I give a purpose to what I already do naturally. I have always been taking pictures. I take notice of everything around me. I love people. I love to people-watch. I love to capture people in pictures, because it allows me to see the very best in them, as I zoom in on the details of their eyes, or face, it helps me to see, perhaps, a bit of who they really are. And nature, well, I love taking pictures of nature, because it is simply capturing the beauty that God has created.

I also love to write. I have always loved to write. I do not recall doing extremely well in my English classes, or anything technical like that. But I have always enjoyed writing things down in a journal, or on a blog, or just getting out my thoughts and feelings. It is like a form of exercise for my brain and emotions. Getting the thoughts out of my head and down in words, is like busting out a 10 mile run; I receive a sense of peace and accomplishment when I finish and walk away.

Anne Frank expressed my thoughts exactly:

I want to go on living even after my death. And therefore I am grateful to God for giving me this gift, the possibility of developing myself and of writing, of expressing all that is in me. I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn. 

Writing and photography, seem to be patterned perfectly for my particular personality. I am able to do my introverted-observer thing, and yet I can still let out the extrovert in me, by sharing my thoughts, and my pictures. When I write, or work on a batch of pictures, it feels so natural for me, it makes me feel alive: I enjoy it immensely. 

It makes me happy, to have found what I love to do.

I am a writer, and I am a photographer.

It makes me a little nervous to say out loud that I am a writer, because I have not been exposed to the study of writing in a college classroom, or other educational venues (other than the core English requirements). But I do write. And there are plenty of English majors that never lift a finger to share their thoughts with the world. Even though they have the ability to craft a perfect sentence, they do not do it, and therefore, they are not a writer.

We are what we consistently do, or so they say.

I have just recently allowed myself to acknowledge that I am a runner. I am not built for running. I do not have the body of a sleek gazelle, that can outrun a predator. But I do run. I run almost everyday. This makes me a runner. The same concept applies to writing, photography, singing, or any other talent that can be developed simply by doing it.

So, what is my point? Do I even have a point? I often don't, and yet I still write.

My point is, it is good to seek out the things that you love, and then do them. If you love to bake, then make a batch of cookies, and share them with your family or friends. If you love to draw, then pull out your sketch pad, and start to doodle a masterpiece. If you love to sing, then pull out your favorite music, and belt it out like a Diva. If you love to dance, then go and shake it, baby!

I was told in my blessing, that by using my talents, I will find great joy. This has been repeated in each blessing I have received, since Charles passed away. If I am having a particularly lame day, or if I am feeling low, I know it is time to whip out the camera, or start writing. (I take pictures and write when I am feeling happy, too.)

I need to experience the joys and glory of creation.

When I create, sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.

Sammi Sunshine

I love my Sammi. I am so grateful that she was sent to our family. She has always been a ray of sunshine in our lives. We have called her "Sammi Sunshine" from the time she was just a little baby: her light still shines. 

Sammi is my only girl. I have needed her in my life; especially in the last few years without Charles. She is who I call on when I want to watch sappy love movie, she runs with me, and I can talk to her about pretty much anything. I am still her mother, of course, but I also consider Sammi my dear friend. 

I am positive that Heavenly Father knew I would need sunshine in my life, with the intense storms that would come my way. He made sure that Sammi was sent to be with me on this journey. She is just one of many angels, who have buoyed me up. She makes me happy, when skies are gray. 

Sammi is the kind of girl who goes to school, the day after finding out her father died. She is the kind of girl who has unshakable faith, and a firm testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Not too long after Charles passed away, I expressed a desire to see him -- I just wanted to have a glimpse of him in the Spirit World. Her response was, "Mom, you just need to have faith." She was right. 

I recently asked Sammi what gets her out of bed in the morning, and she said, "I just think to myself, if I get out of bed, I know I am going to have a good day." She also said she just loves going seminary, and it makes her happy to go first thing in the morning. (This morning glory is not something she inherited from me! But I agree, getting out of bed is the hard part, but once you get up, life is not so bad, right?) 

She also finds so much of her joy in music. She is always singing, playing the piano, and her heart is full of song -- like a Disney princess. I am so grateful that she has music in her soul. I pray it will ever remain throughout her life, and that it will help her to keep her joy, and her sparkle, as she shares her love of song. 

Sammi loves to read. She reads a lot. 

I just love this girl. Yes, I have made her sound like a glorified angel-princess. That is because to me, as her mother: she is. She is not infallible, and we have silly mother-daughter moments that are pretty ridiculous. But when I stop to think about her... when I stop to write about her... all my mind can grasp is the good. 

And so, that is how I see her: Sammi, my glorified, sunshine, angel-princess. 

You'll never know dear, how much I love you. 

I have an angel in Sammi, and a pack of warriors, and protectors, in my boys... more to come on the boys later. 

A Walk in the Park

The smell of the river enticed me towards the rushing water. The aroma of the spring trees intoxicated my mind, and lured me hence: like a fish to a hook. The powerful flavor that filled the air was so... yummy. I just had to go, and partake of the glorious spring day. 

I had not planned to take a walk, but it was simply too beautiful to stay inside. 

I loaded up Henry and my camera, and off we went to the river. 

Henry was very happy to be out and free. He is feeling much better, and being outside is his favorite. 

 The river was rushing like crazy. It has flooded in many areas.

 This is not a pond, this is a sidewalk.

This is an area we normally like to go and throw rocks.

The ducks seemed to appreciate the newly created flood-pond. 

 The clouds were like marshmallows, and the hills were blanketed in Hobbiton green.

 Henry found some rocks to throw. He would throw rocks all day if he could.

 We found a spot that was safe for Henry to play in. The main river is rushing way too fast to get too close.

 I love Idaho.

 Happy Henry

 The Spring blossoms are out in full force right now. It is absolutely magical.

 Henry loves to run.

 Run, Henry, run!

 And... he biffed it. He was ok. He shook it off, and was fine.

 Spring is such an enchanting time of growth.

 I think Heaven will smell like Spring blossoms.

 It was a really lovely day.

 I love the color pink. It is one of my favorites.

 Henry wanted a picture on the rock.

 Oh, how I love Spring in Idaho. I am so grateful to live here.

It is gently raining outside now as I write. Spring blossoms, plus rain... wow. It smells amazing! 

Henry Update

I had to take Henry to the ER on Sunday. He had been running a fever of 103 for more than a day, and all of his symptoms pointed towards a UTI, like the one he had over a year ago. 

For more on Henry's Kidneys click: HERE

Henry was born with some of his internal plumbing out of order. He has extra compartments in his kidneys, and extra tubing as well. A little more than a year ago, he had surgery to reconstruct what was all wonky on his insides. The surgery went super, and things were looking good, and Henry has been doing awesome for this last year -- no signs of troubles at all. 

I knew that what was going on with Henry was more than just a flu or other sickness, and I knew he needed help to heal. It was Saturday night/Sunday in the middle of the night, that he really started burning up, and I was eager to get him to the hospital. I did not want to leave in the night, and leave my other children home alone. It was about 3:00am. Sure, I could have called friends, and I would have if I thought it was life-threatening. I gave him some Tylenol, he was able to sleep, and we held out until about 6:30am and rushed off to the ER. 

While in the ER, they pumped him full of antibiotics, and he has been taking medicine daily since then. The first few days following, he was still spiking a really high fever, and he was acting really tired. I went to our family doctor and found out that was quite normal, as the infection was running its course and the antibiotics fought against it. It concerned me because his fever actually went higher to over 104. 

As of today, Henry is doing much better. He still sleeps a little extra in the morning, and so do I, because we had some nights of zero sleep. He is playing and acting normal, and all is well with him. At least it sure seems that way. We will find out more on his internal issues, but externally he is doing so much better. 

We have a follow-up appointment with his urologist next week, to see what might have been the cause of the UTI. He has a scheduled ultrasound in a few weeks to see how things are looking on his insides. The surgery was meant to make it so he would be fine into the future. Hopefully things are all in order as they should be. We will find out soon.

Life is never boring. That is for sure. 

Messages To Heaven

Our friends wanted to do something special for us, to celebrate the 2 year mark of Charles' passing. The Harlins had us follow them up to our family spot, where we always watch fireworks together, on the 4th of July. It's been tradition for many years. 

It was the perfect spot to do what Rachelle had planned. 

We went at night on April 1st. I had just returned home from my 20 mile run, I showered quick, and off we went up to our spot in the Foothills. It was a beautiful evening, the weather was perfect, and the sun was setting which made it very pleasant. Rachelle had planned to have us all write messages to Charles on balloons, and then we would let them fly up to Heaven. 

Here we are getting our balloons in order. (Rachelle took all the pictures.) 

Then we wrote our messages to Charles... Sammi was willing to share her thoughts for a picture.

I am sure the neighbors thought we were crazy.

We all wrote our messages and then got ready to launch...

On the count of 3 we all let go...

And the messages went up towards Heaven

It was really a beautiful event

We watched them float away until we could not see them anymore

After letting off the balloons, we all gathered in a circle for a treat, and to share some memories about Charles. It was very precious, and everyone agreed that Charles is awesome and we miss him.

It was a great way to celebrate Charles on such a special day.

Thanks so much to the Harlins for making it happen! We love you guys!