This Month Is Such A Special One...

It's Birthday Time For YOU!!

Today Ruthie is 10

Double Digits!

She was off to school and I was off to prepare. 

All her gifts...

Art supplies

Art drawers

Legos

And...

A skateboard!

We went to dinner at Burrito Grande and she got to wear the birthday sombrero.

 

******

10 years ago today, a mom had a baby girl. You.  She knew she couldn't give you all you would need.  She placed you in front of the Bo Ai Hospital in FengCheng China.  The placement spoke volumes to the love she had for you.  You were found and taken to the orphanage around the corner.  You were weighed, measured and named.  Feng Li Qiu.  Beautiful Autumn Thunderclap.  The Beautiful and Autumn are a given.  Literally.  But Thunderclap?  You must have had some lungs or a striking personality to get a name like that.

 

When I got the translation of your name, I KNEW you were mine. My Beautiful Autumn Thunderclap.  I knew you'd go nicely with my Handsome Spring Thunderclaps, Isaac and Sam.

 

On February 16, 2005 I finally held you in my arms.  I cried tears of joy as you cried tears of fear and unknown.  We spent the next week and a half holding you in our arms.  Saying Mama and Baba while pointing to us.  Saying Qiu Qiu (ChooChoo) and Ruthie while pointing to you in the mirror.  You listened to her brothers' voices on the phone each  morning, loving the sound but unsure of what it was.

 

When we finally got you home, we went to pick up your big brothers.  You kept looking at your boys and then looking at me as if to say, "Are they mine? Really mine?".  You called them "my boys" for a couple of years. 

 

I always say, and truly believe, that I couldn't have made you more "mine" than if I'd made you myself. Heavenly Father was watching over each of us during this process of bringing our family together.

 

Ruthann LiQiu, we love you, and are so so so happy you belong to us.  Eternally.

We are also so so so very grateful to your birth mom and her great sacrifice to give you an opportunity to live a life she couldn't give you.  She loved you so so so very much.  I can't wait to meet her and hug her and thank her for giving you life.

 

Happy Birthday sweet Autumn Thunderclap. 

Double Digits!!

Have You Ever...

Have you ever been able to look back and see that you were prepared for something? 

I look back over my young years and then moving away from home right after high school and then moving back home and then ~viola~ I go on a mission.  And I had been prepared for it.

I look back over my single years.  I was in a singles ward, I went to school, I worked full time, I had good friends, I traveled, I wanted to get married.  Then I dated a couple of, well, strange-lings, and I decided that I would always be single if that's what was left for an almost 28 year old.  I told my parents that I was finished with dating and began making plans for going back to school, changing my job and working in the temple.  Then I met Daniel and I married him.  And I had been prepared for it. 

I look back over the time we were having kids.  The pregnancies that could have taken my life.  I know it sounds dramatic, but pregnancy and I are literally mortal enemies.  Then my OB said that if I had another pregnancy Daniel's second wife would be raising my kids, so I had a tubal ligation. Then I found an adoption agency.  And I had been prepared for it.

I look back over the time we spent looking at the Marshall Islands to adopt the rest of our family.  Everything we did, everywhere we went, everyone we spoke with, led us to the Marshall Islands.  While we waited for our US approval to adopt an orphan from the Marshall Islands, the Islands shut down any further adoptions from their country.  Our agency suggested China.  Then we got to go and adopt our daughter.  And I had been prepared for it.

I look back over the time spent with my brother Aaron.  He was my little buddy.  We spent so much time together before Daniel and I met.  When Sam was born, he came to the NICU with my mom and dad to see Sam.  We have video of him standing at the window and waving to us.  Then 16 days after Sam was born, Aaron died.  And I had been prepared for it.

I look back over the many years we spent waiting and longing for another child to join our family.  Priesthood blessings, time spent in the temple, pleading prayers, never knowing when, experiencing a failed adoption and then, in answer to our pleas, we pulled paperwork from both agencies and chose to be parents to 3.  Then we have been able to focus so intensely on our 3 during some rough patches in each of their young lives.  And I had been prepared for it.

I look back over people I've met, friends I've made, callings I've had and decisions that have needed to be made.  I had been prepared for every one.  I was just called as the Relief Society President in our newly made ward.  I am looking forward to serving such amazing sisters.  I met many yesterday and am so so so excited to get to know them all and serve them!!  Then I will experience sorrow, joy, hope, frustration and I will laugh, I will cry and I will grieve.  And I know that I will have been prepared for all of it.

In Memorium.

It was a bright and beautiful Sabbath morning, just like today, 11 years ago.  April 28, 2002.  My Sammy was just 16 days old.  He had been out of the NICU for just a week and we had oxygen delivered to our house for him.  I was still recovering from a C-Section.  Isaac was 2.  He was cute as could be.  Life was good.  We were healthy and happy.  And the day was beautiful!

We were awakened around 8 am by a ringing phone.  It was my dad.  He said he had distressing news.  Aaron was missing.  He hadn't come home the night before after hanging out with friends.  My dad had been out all night looking for him.  He was 17.  The police don't consider it a priority to look for a missing 17 year old boy.  My dad was asking for help to look.

We got in the car and drove down.  We passed the emergency vehicles on the side of the road, next to the ravine, as we got closer to my parents' house.  I knew they were there for Aaron.  We got to my parents' house as my dad was leaving and told him to go see if it was Aaron.  It was.

The rest is history.  Our family history.  Aaron returned to his Heavenly Father earlier that morning.  We miss him.   We KNOW we will see him again.  We KNOW that families are eternal.  We KNOW we will be resurrected.  We KNOW we can live with Heavenly Father again.  We KNOW Aaron is where he needs to be.  And today is a beautiful day!

Aaron, we love you, we miss you.  Come back soon!

Looking Forward.

On Monday night, after watching the bombs explode over and over a few dozen times, and hearing the stories of those who lost limbs or life, I sat down with Isaac to talk.  He was sitting on my bed watching the news.  I could see he was thinking through it all and worried.  We talked about living in the Last Days and that, while we are waiting for Christ to come, we are going to see a lot of destruction and sorrow.  We may even experience some destruction and, we are no strangers to sorrow. 

Uncle Clark was running the marathon.  He had finished the race some 30 minutes before the bombs went off.  He was fine.  We also just recently had a cousin, Dilon, who was in a motorcycle accident.  At first he only lost some toes.  Then he lost his leg.  He is recovering and hopeful.  We got to visit him and see pictures and ask questions. 

We live in perilous times.  So Isaac and I talked about living righteously every day.  No matter what happens to us or around us or anywhere or to anyone else in the world, we know that if we are living righteously we will be okay.  It doesn't mean we will not suffer.  It doesn't mean we won't die.  But it also doesn't mean we sit in our house and board up the windows and hope nothing happens to us.  We live.  We choose the right.  We laugh.  We pray.  We look forward with a perfect brightness of hope.  We look foward to when Christ will come again.

20 Years Later.

20 years ago I was serving a full time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I was stateside and Spanish speaking. It was the best of both mission worlds. I was in my own country, able to get my diabetes care, and because I was Spanish speaking, I was able to teach and work with people from Mexico, Central America and South America. My first area was awesomely incredible. The work was moving, I was working hard and I was happy.

After a couple of months there, when call outs for transfers came, my name was included. I was going to a new area along with a new companion. Together we would open the area for Spanish speaking sisters again. There were elders there already and they were wonderful to us. They gave us families and individuals to teach. They worked on getting dinner appointments for us. They introduced us to many of the members and investigators. They told us the best places to proselyte as well as the not so great places.

It soon became very apparent that we, the sisters, were not welcome there. The member men, Los Hermanos, as they were called, said that because we didn't hold the priesthood we were not really on the Lord's errand. They shunned us. The member women would only sign up to feed the missionaries if the sisters did not accompany the elders. They did not want us in their homes. As we began meeting investigators, we were quickly told they were not interested. They stopped answering their phones and their doors. While looking for service opportunities, we were quickly met with nice people saying they were not in need of help. My companion and I found ourselves in a very difficult scenario. We were not wanted, we were not working and we were not serving.

As a result, we spent a lot of time in our apartment. Soon I became very ill. I stopped sleeping, my blood sugars were sky high, I had gained about 40 pounds, my head was constantly pounding and I had no energy to do anything. I went to a doctor who said I needed to lose weight. That would solve everything. I struggled with that. I couldn't lose anything. We were on a very tight budget and at the mercy of anyone who fed us. I couldn't exercise because I eventually couldn't get out of bed. Weight was no longer an issue. Something else was wrong.

In this process, I stopped studying with my companion. She found that sleeping during the day was best under the circumstances. I also stopped studying my scriptures and praying. Now, this all had happened within a very short time of my becoming sick. Although it felt like an eternity.

I saw a few more doctors and there was nothing they could do for me. They didn't know what was wrong. My mission president was on his way home. And with a new president coming in, I found myself on his radar. The problem was, I scared the new president. We spent some time on the phone for him to become familiar with me and what was happening. When our phone calls would end, I didn't even feel relief that he knew my situation. He was just as stumped as the previous president. He spent time talking with the doctors I'd seen and on the phone with my parents. Everyone was at a loss.

It had only been about 2 weeks. I found myself unable to see any light at all. I described it to one of the elders as “being in a deep, dark pit with no light and no way out”. One night I sat on the bathroom floor crying. I was so completely miserable that I couldn't see anything in front of me. My companion came in and asked what I was thinking. I only told her that I couldn't do it anymore. She said, “so you're just going to sit here and cry?!”. Well. Yes.

Actually I was going through every option I could think of to end my life. But without causing pain. Physical pain and I don't really like each other. And to take my life, I would experience some type of pain. To my clouded mind, it seemed like the only way out. So I was left wondering. With no real answer.

Then the phone rang. It was my grandma. Meme, actually. My family was on a trip to Canada and I had been trying to contact them earlier. I don't remember how it was that she knew to call, but I was grateful she did. We talked for just a few minutes. She said she would have my aunt Ruth call me. She lived just a short drive away. I hung up and waited by the phone. Ruth called and I told her what was going on. I talked for a while. Then she gave me the best advice I think I have ever received. It went something like this... I will send Chuck (her hubby) right now to pick you up. You don't have to pack anything, don't say anything to anyone, just wait for him and leave with him. We'll get you home and in to see your own doctor. We will all support you. You will get better and move on with your life. In 20 years you'll look back and think “I didn't finish, even though I did get better”. OR, You stay and you get on your knees right after you hang up. You talk to Heavenly Father and get His help. You do all you can to get out and work, just a little a day. We will support you. You will get better and in 20 years you'll look back and think “I finished and I got better and I am stronger and better because of it”. She said I just needed to choose. If I needed some time to think about it, all I needed to do was call back and let her know I needed Chuck to come. We talked for just a few more minutes and I told her I would call her back when I'd made a decision.

Oh how I wanted to go home. How I wanted to just walk away from the misery. How I wanted to just have some light in my life again. But the advice to kneel and talk to Heavenly Father was echoing in my head. Along with the pounding pain. So I knelt.

I knelt for a very long time. I didn't say a word. I didn't know what to say. 2 weeks is a very long time to not pray. I had given up on Heavenly Father so easily that I didn't know if He would even listen. I knelt for a very long time.

Then it was time. I began my prayer with “Heavenly Father. Are you there?..” and with that I felt his arms wrapped around me so tightly and so lovingly that I knew He was there. He was listening, and, by golly, He loved me! So so much. The rest of my prayer came a little more easily. I talked. I asked. I pleaded. I listened. And then I knew. I needed to stay. Not even thinking 20 years into the future. But for right in that moment I knew that He had a purpose for me to be there and work that only I could do. And I knew that I would get better. I knew I would be okay.

I called Ruth back and told her I was staying. She said their family had been praying for me and that they knew I had gotten the right answer. I went to my companion and told her I would be okay and that we needed to get back to the work. We needed to study and pray and get out of the gross apartment.

It was a process to get back on my feet. I soon went to a doctor who simply asked if I was depressed. Um. Yep. He gave me some meds and sent me on my way. That helped clear the clouds out. I was studying and praying again. We were getting out and working as much as I could do each day. It wasn't easy and it wasn't fast. But it was the right direction.

Soon call outs were coming and the mission president had told me that I now needed a whole new view. A new area and a new companion. I was transferred to a beautiful and hard working companion in an area ripe for the picking. Our apartment was on Christmas Tree Lane!  My Spanish was picking up fast and my body was getting stronger. I was sleeping and I was happy.

It has been 20 years now. I do look back with so much gratitude for that phone call from Ruth and the advice she gave. I have often thought over these many years how my life would have been different if I had left that night. Would my testimony be what it is now? Would my courage be what it is now? Would I even be who I am now? I have no idea. And frankly, I'm glad I'll never know. I always say that those 18 months of full time service were the hardest I've ever lived. But the worth of the experience shows in how I live my life, how I love the gospel and in the relationship I have with my Heavenly Father. If I ever wonder how a decision I need to make will impact my life 20 years from now, I think of this one experience. And I know that in seeking the Lord's help and doing what He wants me to do will bring joy and rejoicing. Now, and in 20 years.

In The Bleak Midwinter.

When I lived with my parents I sang in the ward choir.  One of the Winter arrangements we sang was In The Bleak Midwinter.  These last few months those words have been in my head. 

Everyday. 

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

It is a hymn about Christ. 

But as we see snow and ice and snow and ice, I think it perfectly describes this Winter.

I haven't seen the ground in months!

I am so looking forward to Spring.  We are still months away. But I long for it.

 Life. Color. Sky. Warmth.

May this snow and ice melt quickly and bring green grass and beautiful Spring.

Some Days...

Some days my floors have sticky spots

Some days my sink is full of stinky dishes

Some days I eat chocolate cake for breakfast

Some days I feed my kids toast for dinner

Some days the piles of laundry are monumental

Some days there are bionicles all over the house

Some days the bathroom really stinks

Some days I have to have a mom time out

Some days I should get grounded

All days are filled with Joy and laughter because of these guys...

Aren't they cute?!

Whatever the days may be filled with, these 3 fill it the best.

Have You Ever...

Have you ever passed that person on the road going 30 mph when the speed limit is 45 and you are in a hurry and have to go to the bathroom and you're tired and dang cranky and just spilled something on your pants and your kids are arguing in the back and the slow guy in front of you is actually slowing down even though no one and nothing are directly in front of him and you wonder how he manages to drive and breathe at the same time and if the car who is going 38 mph next to you would just speed up or slow down you can pass that other car and get on with your life?? Neither have I.

Have you actually been that slow car? Never mind, don't answer that. 

This morning as I was driving home from Costco, there were a few cars in front of me and the front car decided to hang a left without moving out of the lane which takes like 10 points from the guy's life in my book.  He did turn his blinker on.  Gained 1 point.  As we all slowed down, the guy behind me slammed on his brakes, 3 points off for not being a defensive driver.  Then the winner blammed on his horn.  At me.  At me because I was right in front of him.  I automatically deduct 15 points for honking at old ladies.  Not that I'm old.  Or drive slow.  But I did have a good 20 years on him. And I'm a lady.  As the front guy hanging a left slowly moved out of the lane and out of our way, we got on our way.  Then the psycho winner horn honker behind me trails me so close he can see my groceries.  He is also breathing directly from my tailpipe.  He's losing points so fast he's falling off the planet here.  As we pick up speed, he proceeds to change lanes.  Eek.  The car next to me slows down (hardee har har on you!) and then he hits his breaks and I see that the guy is bald.  Maybe all the hair off his head has made him loony!  Loony! And a horn honker at old ladies.  Not that I'm old I tell ya!

Then, like magic, a third lane opens up and the guy who is in the negative when it comes to points in my book, has moved over to it and sped right passed everyone.  Only. To. Get. Stopped. At. A. Red. Light.  And that, my friends, is when I begin to see life fairly again.  I laugh hysterically to myself to the sounds of REM on the radio and a sweet taste of diet something on my tongue.  Because I'm back on the stuff people.  Why??

Because I am that lady who loses 50 points when I follow so close to you I can see your groceries.  Because I am the one who would like to honk the horn at you for going 30 in a 45 zone but I choose not to because I don't want to lose those points too.  I am the one who has to pee and has kids arguing and just spilled something and is boxed in by people who can't seem to go the speed limit.  I'm not asking that you go a zillion miles an hour.  Don't hurt yourself!  But the speed limit is more than a suggestion.  It keeps you safe.  Can you hear me?  Please go 45 in a 45 zone.  And also let me add, when going through a school zone, go 20.  I tend to go about 18.  They double those fines and kids are hard to replace if you hit and kill one! 

The problem is, you can't get caught at a red light after you speed past everyone who refuse to go the speed limit, like the guy up there.  It's just embarrasing and people laugh at you for being a jerk who didn't get far.  So when I pass you and speed along at the speed limit or slightly above (slightly, because I don't want to lose too many points) I must make it past that first light in order to make it worth it.  If I don't I will go a bit faster to make it past the next light.  It's an illness.  I know.  Although I have noticed that I drive slower many more days than I drive fast.  I guess I am just getting old. I also like watching the jerks who pass and then get caught at the light.  Mwaa haa haa. As long as I'm not that jerk.  Anyway, if it were all about the points, it is my book.  And that's just fine with me.  Just don't get in my way!

Joy And Reality.

A moment of Joy.  I was in the kitchen and heard Sam playing the piano.  Ruthie came in and asked if he was going to start taking lessons again.  He said "No. You're going to teach me." So Ruthie began his first lesson.  They even played a duet.

I just love moments like this.

A moment of reality.  I am putting together the list of cub scouts going to day camp.  And getting Sam and Daniel's med forms filled out for Webelos camp.  And getting ready to take Isaac in for a physical before he goes to Scout camp.  And making myself available to go to day camp with Ruthie.  And the thought occurred to me that this is the last year for day camp for Sam.  And Ruthie is just beginning.  But in 4 years she'll be getting ready for girls camp.  And Isaac is going to Scout Camp!  What the??  And when I am released as a den leader I won't be going to cub day camp anymore.  Anymore.  And  a small part of me was sad.  And another part of me can't wait for someone else to be a den leader.  And another part of me is ready to paint something.

And so I show you this.  The yellow and red are my inspiration for the work I am about to do.  Yes, my kitchen is already splashed with red.  But the yellow is new.  And the idea in my head, thanks to another PTA mom, is ready to pop out all over the place. 

Just you wait!

Goodbye To Our Friend.

Yesterday afternoon Isaac went out to visit the goats.  The next thing we knew he was running into the house, crying, and saying that Vegeta was dead.  We are all very sad.  We have an idea of what happened.  A pneumonia that acts quickly.  Within hours and without much warning.  So I thought I'd put up some of our favorite Vegeta moments to remember him.  

Born March 24, 2011 under our deck.

The boy and his goat.

Grass smorgasbord in the backyard.

Playing tough with his friend Mama Cass.

What's up chicken butt?

Ruthie's driveway message.

We love you Vegeta.  We will miss you terribly.

Random Updates.

I'm thinking I should just start doing A Day In The Life again.  Instead, I keep doing these random updates.  Maybe I'll begin again...  Maybe I won't. 

Last night Isaac had his first official Scout Camp Out as a Deacon.  It was a practice session for Scout Camp this summer.  When he will be hiking in 3 miles and staying there for 4 nights.  It was supposed to be Monday-Saturday, but they squashed it to Wednesday-Saturday.  It's a Wilderness Camp Out this summer.  So we got the pack ($55 at Costco. Bam!) And a good sleeping bag that fit into the bottom compartment and then got his dad packed.  The pack almost took Isaac out.  But he did it.  They are back and smell like campfire and dirt. 

On Friday I got out a big bag of M&Ms and put a few into a little bowl.  OK.  I put a lot into a medium bowl.  I found this sad oddly shaped brown M.  He was so forlorn amongst all the shiny round Ms.  I took his picture for posterity sake.  Then I ate him.  He didn't taste as good as his friends. I thoroughly enjoyed eating all of his friends.

Today marks 10 years since my brother Aaron died.  We miss him.  But the lessons learned and the blessings received because he died are immense.  One lesson-slash-blessing is that I have this sacred partnership with Aaron.  He works on the other side of the veil teaching and proclaiming.  I work here, side by side with my sweetie, in the temple.  Now Isaac joins that sacred partnership because he can go to the temple to do baptisms for those Aaron has taught.  Oh my heart.

Aaron, we love you. We miss you. Come back soon.

Sorrow And Joy.

It's been over a year. Usually when I'm asked about it, I just say what happened. I am getting better at just saying it, not feeling it. I can walk away without sorrow flooding my heart. But there are still times when I'm asked, or when a baby is born, a pregnancy announced, that the flood gates open and I grieve as if it just happened yesterday.

Our family is complete. I know it is. I know that another baby will never come. But there is still a part of my heart that can't accept it. When I see a baby I think, That could have been me again. It could have been our family with a new baby. It's easier to look at a toddler who is throwing a tantrum and feel peace that my baby is 8 and there will be no more. But still...

Our family is in a great place right now. We can go anywhere at anytime and just play. Just do. We don't have to plan for nap times, feeding times, diaper changes. We just stop for a treat or a pit stop. It's fun having kids who will challenge you to do something. I was challenged by Sam to ride the Re-Entry ride at Lagoon. I would rather be bit by a rattle snake. But I did it. The Joy on Sam's face when we got off and he saw my face was enough for me! They are all good joke tellers. And joke deciphers. They crack me up. They can be reasoned with and instructed. Understanding is evident when we teach a principle that they've been taught all their lives, but now clicks. They are growing up so fast.

And so we move on with preteens and look forward to more exciting events as they grow. Do I wish I needed to change a diaper at times?  I would do it if it were here.  Will that place deep in my heart continue to hurt?  Not as much as it used to, but it will always be there. So I find Joy in my family as it is.  Joy in what we are and what we can do and become.  And it is spectacular.

My Hips Hurt.

So last night I was in the midst of reading volume 9 of a 9 volume set of historical fiction. I'll stop right there and breathe for a sec. Because 9 volumes is a lot of reading. Okay. Ready. I was finishing a chapter where they were talking about northern California and Sutter's Fort. I then went back to my childhood growing up in northern California and really not appreciating the rich history there. There are missions all along the California coast line and many inland as well. I wish I could just go back and enjoy the history. Then my thoughts went to an old TV show Daniel and I have been watching called Psych. It's on Netflix and we stay up late every night watching 2 or 3 episodes and I'm truly exhausted. But the show is set in Santa Barbara, California. And in a recent episode they were at one of those historical missions. And then I thought about Santa Barbara being in my mission and I never got there. I served in 4 other places. 2 coastal and 2 inland. I like the coastal areas best. Not that I got to go to the coast because water is a missionary's enemy. But they were beautiful areas! Stopping now to think about the beauty of Oxnard and Santa Maria. Aaahhh. Okay. Ready. So then my thoughts go to when we drove through Rancho Cucamonga in So Cal where I lived many years ago. We got off the freeway there so we could get breakfast on our way home. As we drove through I realized I had no idea where we were. It has grown and changed so much. And I wanted so bad to drive through and find where I lived and where I worked so I could show the kids. But we got a late start and needed to go. But it really had changed and I really didn't recognize it at all. And then it occurred to me that it was 22 years ago that I moved there. 22 years. And so I got Daniel's attention and told him that I feel old and then went through all of what I just shared with you. And then, in some weird way, my hips started to hurt.

A Beautiful Butterfly.

Yesterday we had a great opportunity to celebrate Lyndsay's life with her family. Her brother and mom passed out Monarch Butterflies for us to release. Just like we did a year before. Here is one of our butterflies before flying away.

On Tuesday I took Ruthie up to the cemetery to leave some flowers and be by ourselves. Ruthie asked if she could say a prayer. I never say no to such a request. She knelt down by Lyndsay's headstone with our flower and said a little prayer. I just stood back and cried. Then cursed myself for not bringing the camera. Dang! I brought the camera on Wednesday, but she didn't want to re-enact.

When more family and friends came, they brought glorious flower arrangements. Ruthie took a couple of pictures of them. Our little flower got drowned out fast! But we feel sure that Lyndsay liked our flower too.

More beautiful flowers. It was a beautiful day and a wonderful tribute to an incredible little girl. In looking back over the last year, I realized that one thing has been left behind at our house. Dress up. Lyndsay always played dress up with Ruthie at our house and at hers. When Lyndsay passed away, Ruthie just never played dress up again.

These two little girls have a lot of dress up to play later when they're together again. Oh yeah. AND! Lot's of tea parties to plan!

One Year.

Every Spring for the past 9 years, I would have an overwhelming sense of “down”. Kinda depressed and just down. It didn't last long, just a few weeks, maybe a month. I finally, that first year, realized why. My brother Aaron died in the Spring 9 years ago. And even though I knew it was coming over the years, I still was surprised when I felt that sharp sting. But it isn't as painful a sting as it used to be.

Earlier this year when our dream of adding another child to our family was finished I had a conversation with my mom. Knowing what it was like to lose a child, she told me, that over time, the loss wouldn't be the first thing I think of when I wake up. At the time, I just thought it would take forever! But over this short time since, that sting has lessened and it isn't the foremost thought in my mind.

Over the past couple of weeks I have had a struggle of sorts. Was is that school was starting? Was it that summer fun was done? I began again to go through all the feelings I know of and could possibly be ignoring about the adoption. But I still couldn't place it exactly. Until Sunday night. Ruthie and I had already made a plan and executed part of that plan and knew what this week represented. But the sting was sharp all at once. It was one year ago, Monday, August 30, that Lyndsay came to the door as Ruthie was getting ready for bed. I told Lyndsay that Ruthie couldn't play, but to come back tomorrow after school! For sure she could play then. That night Lyndsay was swept away by Life Flight and swiftly returned to her Heavenly Father. Ruthie didn't get to play with Lyndsay again.

We miss Lyndsay. We hope the morning of the first resurrection comes swiftly. I know that only a year later, the sting is still sharp and isn't easily lessened. Time doesn't take the memories away. Time doesn't end the sting. Time doesn't heal all wounds. Time only gives us time to ponder and remember and look forward to a wonderful reunion. For 9 years I have looked forward to seeing my baby brother again. For 1 year I have looked forward to seeing our sweet Lyndsay again. And boy do I look forward to it!

Lyndsay, Aaron, Rebecca, Heidi, Opah, Grandpa, Grandma Shelba, Zenda...We love you. We miss you. Come back soon.

Today.

A couple of weeks before Sam was born I measured big enough to be carrying twins at full term. And I was only 32 weeks! Not long after that appointment the doctor was concerned for both me and the baby and asked what I'd had for breakfast. Oatmeal. He said we'd have to wait a few hours, so call Daniel and get registered. When they felt my belly was empty of breakfast, they hooked an IV up and got me to the operating room. I was 35 1/2 weeks and both Sam and I were in mortal danger. He was born big. 9 1/2 pounds big. His lungs quickly distressed and they took him to the NICU and hooked him to oxygen and an IV. I was rolled away to recover. Over the next couple of days we learned that Sam would need to be there longer than I did. It was devastating to me. How could I leave my baby in the hospital and just go home?

I did go home and left my baby in good hands. I wondered why things went the way they just did. Why so early? Why didn't the doctor give me stuff for his lung development? But I was so grateful for the relief of knowing he was mine eternally. If anything should happen, he would always be mine. My mom and dad and brother Aaron came to visit him in the hospital. Because they only allow a couple of people into the NICU at a time, my parents came in first and Aaron stood at the window. My dad took a picture of him there, waving to us. He then got to come in and see his newest nephew.

A week after Sam was born, he was released. We brought him home and got a delivery of oxygen tanks. We would need to have oxygen going into his nose for at least another couple of weeks. And again I wondered why.

Early Sunday morning, 16 days after Sam was born, April 28 to be exact, I got a phone call from my dad. He said he had distressing news. Aaron was missing. He didn't come home that night. the police wouldn't help because he was a 17 year old teenage boy. I guess it's normal for them to disappear. They didn't know Aaron. My dad said he knew we had a new baby and I was recovering from surgery, but he was hoping the men could come help look. I got off the phone, showered, got my boys dressed and we all got in the car and drove down. That was a very long and painful drive. Where was he? What could have happened? So many questions.

We got off the freeway and drove up the road that led to my parents house. As we drove up to the gully, getting closer to my parents' house, we saw all the emergency vehicles. A car had gone off. I told Daniel to stop. He didn't. We told my dad as he was leaving the driveway again. My brother and brother in law got there when my dad did. They wouldn't give any information to them about who. They did say what kind of car. It was Aaron's.

He was killed on impact. While my parents waited for him to come home, he had gone home. Home to his Heavenly Father. The following days were excruciating. How could He take him from us? I held my baby and my toddler so close. There were so many questions. But at the same time there were answers right in front of us. Aaron was done. He'd done all he was required to do. He passed. He was now working hard on the other side. I looked at all I had believed and felt was true. Eternal families. A Savior. The Atonement. Heavenly Father's plan. Celestial Glory. Was it all really true? This was the moment that each of us needed to decide.

It would be easy to walk away at that point. To choose to believe that Heavenly Father didn't care about us. That He had no mercy or love for us. That Aaron was taken selfishly and cruelly. That would be easy.

It would be more "work" to trust in God. To choose to believe that Heavenly Father's plan was real and that now was the moment of putting our trust in Him more fully. A time to choose to believe that our family was eternally bound together. That Aaron's work here on earth was done and that he is now free.

I chose the latter. In fact, we all chose the latter. But instead of believing, we knew. I know. Aaron and I are eternally bound as brother and sister. Isaac and Sam (and eventually Ruthie) were bound to me eternally as my children. Daniel and I had the greatest blessing of an eternal marriage. Heavenly Father knew Aaron and now has a special work for him to do on the other side of the veil. I am beyond belief. I know.I also understood better why Sam came so early. I needed to be physically able to bear the burden of loss. And Aaron needed to be able to see Sam. Sammy loves to hear about when uncle Aaron came and waved through the window while he was in the hospital. Heavenly Father knew he would.

I still miss Aaron. He was my baby brother. He made a shrine for me when I moved away from home when he was just 3. I cracked his head in the windshield when I slammed on the brakes in our little car because everyone was bugging me. He sucked his middle and ring finger for years and always had blisters on his knuckles. He would sit on my bed waiting for me when I'd come home from work so he could just hang with me. He helped me wash my car every Saturday and always got a treat from 7-11 after. The nachos were good! He was an artist with a pencil and paper. He loved to build with K'Nex. My Isaac loves to build with them now.

This is one of his drawings. Beauty Amidst Bleakness.

Every time we pass the cemetery we wave and say "Hi uncle Aaron. We love you. We miss you. Come back soon!" That last part refers to the day he will rise with the just on the morning of the first resurrection. And we can't wait!

One Journey's End.

I haven't been ignoring the fact that I posted about ending our adoption journey and then haven't said anything more. But I have been grieving and I haven't had the heart to write about it. Until now. I think General Conference last week bolstered my spirit. I feel stronger and feel I can now share a little with you.

We began this journey 5 years ago knowing that at least one more child needed to come to our family. How did we know that? We just did. And when you feel that pull, you act. Some people work to get pregnant. We filled out paperwork. We felt very strongly about China. Ruthie would have a sister that looked a lot like her. She talked about black hair and almond shaped eyes and about how they could think about China together. But very quickly we saw that going to China was a long shot. The process was slowing significantly. 2 years into the wait, I struggled with depression. The wait became a huge burden. My heart could hardly stand it. Would we ever come to the day when we would meet our child?

A year and a half later, we felt very strongly that a child would be born here and we needed to be ready. That was a shocking experience. Our prayers thus far had been answered with “Be still. Wait. It will come. Don't change anything.” So we never thought we'd be doing anything different. But now, another child would be coming. Did that mean 5 kids? Could we do it? Of course we could.

So we prayed about where to begin our paperwork and got our answer. We went to LDSFS. I was not fully into it, to tell the truth. I thought that if we went to another agency, our desires would be met easier. But when the Lord commands, we do it. And we're always right! I learned a lot during that process. I gained a deep respect for birth mothers. For a very short time after Ruthie's adoption, I had been grateful that we didn't have to “deal” with a birth mom. Can you even believe it?! But very quickly after she came to our family, I grieved for the loss of knowing her birth mom. Ruthie and I would have long conversations about who she is and what she does and what her name could be. For a little while we called her Abigail.

During the classes we took with LDSFS, I began to love our future birth mom as if she were already a part of our family. We were jazzed about the prospect. Our kids were so excited to have another baby come while waiting to go to China. We felt that because of the urgency we felt to get started so quickly we would have a baby very quickly. So we began what we hoped would be a short wait. Again.

During that wait Daniel and I received very distinct and specific answers and direction. In October we felt an urgency to have a family fast for our birth mom on the first of November. What a marvelous experience. Then we felt an urgency to get our pass along cards out to everyone we know. We sent those out for Christmas. Then our answer was to “Be still. Wait.” Of course.

By July, we were emotionally and mentally exhausted. We had been riding this roller coaster for so many years. When were we going to have our turn?? In August Daniel and I talked about pulling all our paperwork and finally being done. But we were still being told to wait. So Daniel suggested we take 6 months and see what happens. And if, at the end of 6 months, we still didn't have any changes in our situation, we would give ourselves permission to be done. I looked at the calender. February 5 was the timetable. My 40th birthday. I guess turning 40 is old enough to say my family is done. So we waited. Again.

In January, only 5 months into the 6 month time-line, and 5 years since beginning this whole journey, I wanted to just be done. China was still years away and the special needs program was not the right path for our family. We still hadn't had a birth mom look seriously at us. We had been preparing ourselves to be done and I needed to just move on. We gathered our kids and told them. That was a really crappy Saturday for all of us. The following Tuesday I called our agencies. Our caseworker at LDSFS was hesitant, but said she would pull us.

Then on Thursday I got an email from my sister in law. A man she works with has a niece with a 6 month old baby girl she must place quickly. She told him about us. Daniel and I talked quickly and decided that, since our deadline hadn't come, we should go for it. So I called our caseworker again. She had been slow to get to our paperwork so we were still in place. If she had pulled us, we wouldn't have been able to go through the agency. The next couple of weeks moved quickly. Yet they went so slow. We knew that this baby could quite possible be ours. She was conceived when we had our family fast. She was born but not placed when Daniel and I felt defeated and wanted to be done. Birth mom got serious about placing just before our deadline. I had a powerful experience when looking for a name for her, among many other experiences. And then there were all the tender mercies. How could she not be ours?

Last July a good friend told me something that I blew off as insensitive and dumb. She said, “Maybe she (birth mom) chose something different.” Whatever. Heavenly Father has a plan. And that plan is perfect. But looking at the birth of this baby, I realized that she did choose something different. She tried to parent, even though she had looked into placing. But that statement came to mind again, more strongly, very quickly.

We learned that birth mom placed with another family. I felt like we had been tossed aside and rejected cruelly. Grief came quickly and harshly. My heart felt like it had been ripped to shreds by a young girl who didn't understand how important this baby was to us. This was a brutal loss for our family. This baby could have been placed with us. But birth mom chose something different. Not wrong, because either couple could be considered “right”. Just a different choice than what we would have chosen.

Over the past weeks my grief has been very real. It is lessening, but is still there. This is a loss. The loss of a dream of more kids in our family. The loss of a trip to China to pick up our daughter. The loss of having another child sealed to our family for eternity. The loss of bottles and hiccups and giggles and diapers and teething toys. I cleaned out the baby and toddler stuff from our basement quickly. I didn't go to several baby showers. I haven't held my new niece. I walk away when I know I won't be able to bear it. I cover my heart when new babies or pregnancies are announced. I cry when there is nothing left to say.

In conference, Elder D. Todd Christofferson shared an experience once shared by Elder Hugh B. Brown, who had purchased a run down farm. As he cleaned up and repaired, he found a current bush standing more than 6 feet tall and bearing no fruit. So Elder Brown cut that current bush way back to just stumps. He saw what looked like tears coming up from the stump and could almost hear the bush cry and say, “How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” Elder Brown replied, “I am the gardener and I know what I want you to be. I don't want you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a current bush. And one day when you are laden with currents you are going to say “Thank you for loving me enough to cut me down”.”

I had already asked the question. Feeling like I had been cut back too far, I did go to Him and say, “I thought you were the Gardener here. How could you do this to me? Why did I have to be cut back so far?” And Heavenly Father, in that moment of conference, answered, “I am the Gardener here. And I know what I want you to be.”

I wear a purple bracelet that says Lyndsay No Regrets. Lyndsay's dad gave it to me after she passed away. I have always worn it as a reminder of my sweet Lyndsay. But its message has helped me these past weeks. I don't know the complete worth of these past 5 years. I do know that I don't regret any of it. Would I do it again knowing there wouldn't be a baby at the end? Well, right now, today, I would seriously have to ponder that. But knowing all I've learned and how much I've grown and matured and stretched, I would do it in a heartbeat! Why? Because I trust God. I trust Him with my life and my family. He knows me. He knows the righteous desires of my heart, even if I won't be blessed with them all in this life. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said, “Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don't come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come.”

Only one part of our journey is over. There is much more of our whole journey ahead. And as I now begin to grow again as a pruned back bush, I look forward to the day when I will be able to say to the Gardener, without sadness, with tears of gratitude and with a bound up heart, “Thank you for loving me enough to cut me down”, because then I will see just what He sees I can be.

Monday Madness.

Two mornings in a row now. The silly goat on top of the calf shed. She makes us laugh. And laughing is better than crying!!

Today marks 4 years since China filed our paperwork for another baby.

It stinks!

But laughing is better than crying!

4 years and 9 months of knowing another child should be here.

And having empty arms.

But I have to remind myself.

Laughing should be better than crying.

My kids are awesome.

Sam had his little guy here lift a cucumber. So very strong!

Little every day reminders that my family is by far the best family in the world.

And I'm strongly reminded that laughing is way better than crying!

Today was the deadline for showing proof of fixing or selling or whatever with our van. Cause I got a ticket. So I called the police dept and talked to a clerk. Shouldn't they be nicer while dealing with people? I told her all the proof I have is pictures. I haven't gotten the check yet from the insurance. I don't have proof of towing. Except pictures.

She told me I could have until the 30th. Then she hung up on me.

I almost cried.

Then I remembered my incredible family.

Then I remembered the silly goat on the calf shed.

And Daniel said, "What do you expect from a government worker?"

And I laughed.

Because laughing is better than crying.

A Butterfly Wish.

What a beautiful day. Clear skies. Sunshine. Warmth. Butterflies. Ruthie said it would have been better if Lyndsay could have been there. We said she was there. In spirit. But alive. We'll have to tell her all about it when she's resurrected. Okay. We'll remember all the details. The purple. The flowers. The butterflies. The love. The tears. The thumbs up. The bracelets. The talks. The music. The strong spirit. The knowledge that we will see Lyndsay again.

We said our goodbyes as a family on Monday night. Ruthie wore her princess dress that we bought especially for this day. She had a sparkly headband. When we got there, Lyndsay's aunt took our VIP (Very Important Princess) and her family up to cut in the line. We saw Lyndsay. She wore makeup! Yes!!! A big thumbs up from mom. I told her to bring lipstick when she rises with the just. It will complete the look. And Lyndsay will be elated.

The funeral was absolutely beautiful. A wonderful tribute to Lyndsay and to our loving Savior. Little children are alive in Christ. What more can you say!? The music was beautiful. We all sang the Popcorn Song and did the actions. Lyndsay was probably chuckling at that.

At the graveside, Lyndsay's mom asked all the moms in the family to come up and get a butterfly. They had gotten Monarch Butterflies, all individually boxed, (Safely and humanely! No butterflies died!!) to give to each family. Lyndsay loved butterflies and if you make a wish on a butterfly, it will fly to heaven and make your wish come true! Our family went and took our butterfly box and when I asked my family what our family's wish would be, well, we were all thinking the same thing. We made our wish and let our butterfly go. She left the box and flew straight to heaven. She had a special purpose...to get our wish right to heaven. Right away. Other butterflies stayed on fingers and sleeves. What a sight it was! So many beautiful butterflies.

As we left Ruthie said Lyndsay would have loved being there.

She was.

A Mark.

Last night we had a Relief Society dinner/Stomp. Does that scare you? Stomp. High School. Yikes. We brought our yearbooks and had taco salads and talked and talked. Then we had our lesson. Jen talked about making our mark in high school. Sports. Choir. Band. Cheerleading. Debate Club. Chess Club. Nerd. Druggie. Throwing up on someone. Etc.

It's been 21 years since I graduated from high school.

I went to my first 3 years of high school in California. That's where I grew up. And we started high school as freshmen in 9th grade. I'd show you my 9th grade picture, but...I won't.

During my 17th summer, right before my senior year, our family moved to Utah. Oh dread.

I hated it.

My point here is that while thinking about the mark I made in high school, I realized something.

I left a hole.

A deep dark hole.

I left my high school in California without graduating. So I wasn't remembered when planning reunions.

I only spent one year in high school in Utah and didn't talk much.

I hated it.

Remember?

I graduated, but am not remembered when planning reunions.

I didn't leave a mark large enough anywhere to be on a mailing list.

But you know, I don't mind. I wouldn't go back to California to a reunion because leaving that school was a huge blessing for me.

And I wouldn't go to a reunion here in Utah because I don't know any of them.

You see, about a week after graduation, I left. I moved to So Cal and started working and going to school.

When I did come back to Utah I was getting ready to go on a mission.

To California.

When I got back, I just moved on to other things.

So in thinking about leaving a mark in high school I had my eyes opened to having not left a mark at all. And I'm okay with that. High school is just a short and really awkward stage everyone has to go through. I would rather leave my mark as a wife. A mom. A teacher. A friend. A woman.

And I think I am doing just that.