Merry Christmas

Dear friends,

We wish you all a season of peace.

Christmas is slowly getting better each year. A little less painful.

Birthday season was the same way.

I have had many days and even weeks where I feel ok. Like we are going to be ok. Like life can be good again.

The kids are so wonderful. They have hobbies, interests and activities that keep them busy. They have made good friends. They are helpful at home and generally so good to each other. They are so good to me and almost daily help me feel of God's love.

I am regaining so much energy and enthusiasm. It is amazing what it feels like to have just a little joie de vivre. It is like a rebirth to be living as a {mostly} functional human being again.

As much as I was so often surprised in those first years of grief by the things that would send me down into a spiral of pain, I am likewise surprised now so often by the things that bring me energy, fulfillment and even joy.

God is good.

I can see it. He has not left me, or our children or our family members to suffer through this life alone.

He sent Jesus.

His one perfect Son. He came as a baby in a {stone} manger.

To fulfill the law and the prophets.

To save.

I've become familiar with both the Savior's acquaintance with grief as well as His healing wings.

I am a recipient of the power of covenant. The one established with Abraham, renewed with Joseph Smith and bound to me by ordinances in the temple.

I love Jesus Christ. I love my Father in Heaven.

I am a witness that they are present- working in us and for us continually.

You are not alone.

I pray that you will feel of Their love and Their nearness this holiday season and the whole year through.

All my love,

Jordan

The Old Testament

It has been a looooong time.

I love how I have the best intentions to write and then life happens and I don't follow through like I want to. I think that happens to everyone.

So I have a new love in my life.

The Old Testament.

It is so beautiful, inspiring, mournful, educational and instructive.

I had the chance to attend a BYU religion class this last semester. Since I didn't take tests or write papers my sister teases me that I was attending a "lecture series" and if so that is how I wish I could go back and complete all of my college courses.

We studied the 2nd half of the Old Testament- from 1 Kings to Malachi and I can honestly say that it was the first time I'd read most of that material. Sure, I had heard the main stories of that time- of Solomon's anointing, the separation and destruction of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, the stories of Daniel, Jonah, Job, and Esther. But there were so many things that I was no familiar with- the preaching of Amos, Jeremiah and Ezekiel (along with Joel and Micah), specific ways that Elijah and Elisha were types of Christ, Jehu the destroyer, Hosea and Gomer typifying our relationship to Christ, Josiah the righteous king, the reasons for the destruction of Israel and Judah, Zechariah's preaching about rebuilding the temple, and Malachi's rebuke of Judah for their lame (literally) offerings of sacrificial animals.

I have over 35 pages of typed notes plus those I wrote in a notebook as I read each scripture section. I won't share all of those here (sigh of relief) but did want to write down in no particular order some of the impressions that have come to me over these 3 months.

1- The Old Testament is not as off putting as I first thought. It definitely helped to have a guide (teacher) to lead me through it and to put in context most of the books. The thing I didn't realize before is that the OT is not chronological (how did I not know this???). The books are placed generally as the law, the writings and the prophets and so of course reading cover to cover leaves one very confused. You must first know and understand the history of what is happening to God's covenant people so that the preaching and the stories can make sense in the larger picture.

2- The Old Testament shows how frail and consistently inconsistent human beings are. They work hard, they turn to the Lord, they become puffed up, they turn away from the Lord (often in the OT to other gods) they are called to repent, they don't repent, they are stricken, the Lord calls after them in their affliction, they turn back to him (sometimes), they work hard, and on and on and on. I loved the beautiful and gentle language in Ezekiel 18 that the Lord has no pleasure in the wicked dying and remaining in their wicked ways. He wants us to put off our transgressions so he can make us a new heart and spirit. He pleads, "turn yourselves and live ye."

3- The Old Testament is full of stories of good people who suffer. I don't know why this is comforting to me, but I appreciated so much reading about prophets who loved God and wanted to serve him and were tried in every possible way- swallowed by a whale, fed by ravens, told to not marry nor have children, placed in the mire, exiled and jailed, physically afflicted, deserted by friends and family, etc. It is a tale full of suffering and woe yet the writings we have in the Old Testament show how each of these prophets stay with the Lord. No matter what. Jeremiah is my favorite example of this as his life seemed to be one of suffering from beginning to end. That guy drew the short straw and his book of Lamentations is a painfully beautiful expression of his suffering for his unrepentant people. And yet like Mormon and Moroni he fulfilled his mission and did what God wanted him to do even though it came at great personal cost.There is so much soul felt, mournful, pain evident and heart breaking writing in the Old Testament and reading it was like a balm to my soul. 

4- The Old Testament shows clearly why and how we so often break the first commandment- to have no other gods before the true and living God. It is a commandment that I have often brushed over in my life rationalizing that "of course I have no other god but Heavenly Father" when in really looking at myself I have all kinds of other gods. Just like the Israelites of old who worshipped golden idols and set up high places I have all kinds of things that I set my heart on and in a way worship- in various degrees distracting me from the true and living God. It was eye opening to read about how often Israel broke this first and most important commandment and how we likewise today fall prey to this same vice. It was also a wonderful reminder that if I can keep the first commandment and really love God with all of my heart so many things fall into their proper place.

5- The Old Testament is a record that teaches us how the Lord works with His children. Our teacher would often say that "Once we have made covenants with the Lord we have left neutral ground forever and He will seek after us in one way or another eternally." That is the story of the Old Testament- the Lord working with his covenant people again. And again. And again. Whether we 1) come to him on our own or 2) are humbled and choose to come to him or 3) are compelled to come to him through affliction it does not matter- the end goal is the same. He is our God and wants us to be his people. End of story. Well I guess there is one more option 4) we refuse in every case to choose Him. But since we can't see into the eternal realm even in that seemingly damning option there is probably still room for the Lord to continue His work on us.

6- The Old Testament teaches that God will never act to destroy his people or break the covenant without first warning them and calling them to repentance through His prophets. Amos, Joel, Micah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel are some examples of this. Even when Israel and Judah are ripe for destruction they are warned to repent and given opportunity to change. That is a comforting thought for us individually and as a people today. God will not come and destroy without warning us first through the voice of his prophets. His pattern, established anciently in the Old Testament and employed in the Book of Mormon is still un use today. If we listen to the voice of the prophet and follow his counsel we will be protected.

I could go on and on but think this will suffice for now. Needless to say I'm a convert to the Old Testament and really feel like reading and coming to understand these scriptures over the past three months was a great gift to me. It helped to heal my heart. It gave me greater understanding. It gave me strength to carry on. And taught me again about the everlasting kindness of Jehovah and His mercy and grace. 

I love Him.

Jehovah, God of the Old Testament and Jesus Christ, God of the New. I want to be with Him and know Him and give Him my heart.

That is the power of scripture.

To get inside of us and turn our hearts closer to God. It had that effect on me this semester and I look forward to the chance we have to study scripture in the coming year as individuals, as families and as a whole church.

Traumatized Children

Over the summer I read another article in the newspaper that I liked a lot.

It was written after the separation of children from their parents at the Mexican border and commented that when a child is traumatized, the consistent presence of a stable and nurturing parent is the most important factor in how a child overcomes the trauma.

Hence why removing children from their caregivers is such a damaging thing.

But as I continued to read this article I was grateful to see how, for our children, many of the listed suggestions have really helped them work through the trauma of losing their father.

First, I feel profoundly grateful that I am still able to stay home and have as my full time job the care and nurture of our children. That is not something every widow can do and I recognize it as a great mercy from the Lord to me and to our children. Not only did our kids lose their father, but if I had had to start up with full time employment immediately after his death they would have in many respects lost their mother too.

Not everyone knows this, but the social security system is also a sort of "life insurance" system, where some of the taxes you pay go providing benefits to your widow or widower and dependent children upon your death. The introduction of the Survivors Benefits pamphlet states "The loss of a family wage earner can be devastating both emotionally and financially. Social security helps by providing income for the families of workers who die."

Everyone who has ever paid social security tax receives a statement of your approximate payout amounts. Part of that statement (which I had never even paid attention to until Jacob got sick) has a segment that says "If you died today, your dependents would receive $___ per month. Check it out. You and your spouse have a statement and it lists an amount.

Thankfully, since Jacob was the primary wage earner in our family his amount is substantially more than mine. For now that money enables me to stay home and care for our children, as though Jake were working full time bringing home a paycheck each month. There are many ways to be a stable and nurturing parent and I am grateful for the opportunity I have to care for our children and provide stability in their lives by being home with them.

Second, the article notes that "another way to help ramp down the biological response to stress is to quickly re-establish routines." This was something we learned even as Jake was sick and going through treatments. The more we could keep our kids lives consistent and routinized, even as his health was unpredictable and out of control, the more they were able to ride the wave of his illness while having security in their individual lives.

I was kind of fanatical once we moved to Utah to get routines established for our kids (and for me). Everything felt so new and scary and I really felt like creating some sort of predictable routine gave us a baseline of stability that helped us navigate so many new experiences and relationships. Routine is critical for all children, but especially those who have or who are experiencing major trauma in their lives. Having some things be predictable makes it easier to manage the things that cannot be controlled.

Finally, the article states that "once the primary relationship is strong and routines are established, the parent can help the child learn that there is nothing wrong with negative emotions like fear or anger, but that there are positive ways of dealing with them- such as immersing themselves in something they enjoy, such as drawing, reading, playing an instrument or taking part in a sport."

I can say that this is true too. I think some of our neighbors may think I am crazy for shuttling our kids to and fro for lessons and sports practices and games, but more than giving them something to do with their time I really feel like these activities have given our kids a positive outlet for their grief. Grieving takes great energy- it creates great energy- and that energy has to have somewhere to go. I would much rather have our daughter take that energy out on a soccer ball than on her siblings and I have seen how having positive outlets has really helped our kids process their feelings and have a release for their pain.

That said, I also know that our children's emotions will come out, manifest and take work for their entire lives. Many widows that I've spoken to say that their children grieve deeply again during their teenage years or even in college and just watching our kids for two years I can see that we are in it for the long haul. There will continue to be a great need need for conversation, counseling, routine, hobbies, sports and activities, meditation, prayer, building and maintaining a secure relationship with them, and relying on the help of the Savior to walk them through this experience.

Luckily they are some of my favorite humans ever and as long as we can work together, be on the same team, and rely on the merits of Him who is mighty to save,  I have great hope that they will survive and maybe even thrive from this experience.

Jesus the Christ

I've got a few blog posts that I started over the last year and a half but never finished. Although they're not perfect and could use some more work, I want to clear my draft list and will be posting them in the next few days.

So from spring of 2018...

In preparation for my trip to Israel I decided to re-read the book Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage.

I had read it once previously while on my mission to Venezuela and in this January started to read it again.

It is a very long (793 pages) and thought provoking book and I feel smarter just by being exposed to the language that Talmage uses. The footnotes were also fascinating and I read them at the end of every chapter.

To aid my memory I wanted to record some thoughts and things that impressed me as I read this volume about the Savior.

1. Jesus learned line upon line

In his discussion of the Savior's earthly life, Talmage states that "He came among men to experience all the natural conditions of mortality; He was born as a truly dependent, helpless babe as is any other child; His infancy was in all common features the infancy of others; His boyhood was actual boyhood, His development was as necessary and as real as that of all children. Over His mind had fallen the veil of forgetfulness common to all who are born to earth, by which the remembrance of primeval existence is shut off. His advancement was from one grace to another. He garnered knowledge by study and gained wisdom by prayer, thought and effort. Jesus was all that a boy should be, for His development was undeterred by the dragging weight of sin; He loved and obeyed truth and therefore was free." (p. 111-112)

I am sure that I read this chapter before, but for some reason it struck me deeply that Jesus grew up learning from grace to grace. It gave me comfort that though imperfect and sinful, I can also grow and learn incrementally. It is ok and actually by design that we ALL learn that way. He was a child who had to gain knowledge, skills and abilities. He did not come as a king, but rather through study and experience learned of His kingship and divine mission. He, like us, did not come knowing who He was. Jehovah, Creator of world, God of the Old Testament came as a baby and like all babies and children had to grow, develop and learn about His role and calling in this life.

This produced another thought. What was that like for Him to listen to or read in the scriptures and understand, little by little, who He was and what His divine mission was to be? How did it feel for Him to read the record and then have the overpowering realization that the prophecies of a deliverer, of a Messiah, of one to atone for the sins of mankind were ALL talking about Him? It is impossible for me to even contemplate. I am sure that this realization did not happen in one moment or instance, but rather that He was taught and led and instructed line upon line as to who He was, whose He was, and what He was sent here, at His own offering, to do.

2. Jesus was a Jew

I know this should be obvious, but I think that we sometimes forget that Christ was a Jew. He was born to a Jewish mother and taught and lived the law of Moses and went to synagogue and learned out of the Torah. Talmage states that "Christ had not come to destroy the law, but, as He affirmed at another time, to fulfill it." He came to fulfill the ends of the law that His nation had been observing for years and was truly the Messiah.

3. Before his death, Jesus' disciples did not always understand what He taught

Again, I think this should be obvious, but I did not realize that even the apostles who talked and talked with Christ could not always understand His teachings.

At a critical juncture- when the Savior talked about being the bread of life- that whosoever would eat of the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood. hath eternal life and be raised up at the last day- many of his disciples walked with Him no more. They could not accept Him as the literal Son of God and Savior of the world and fell away. Upon seeing this, Jesus even turned to his 12 apostles and seeing that they were unable to comprehend the meaning of his teachings and asked,  "Will ye also go away?" He could even sense that those closest to Him could not understand his teachings and were troubled.

However, Peter's response to this question is SO encouraging. Even though he did not know, did not fully understand he responded "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." His answer has given me great hope that even as questions arise in my own life and situations occur that I do not understand, as long as I choose to stay with the Lord and rely on his word I will make it.

4. Even thought He was willing to suffer for us, Jesus was sorrowful and heavy as that time approached

I have heard much about what the Savior suffered and endured for us in Gethsemane and on the cross of Calvary. But reading Jesus the Christ gave me a newfound understanding of how painful it was for the Savior as he contemplated and grew closer to those excruciating events. Each approaching day must have been so long and difficult and agonizing. In my little experience I have had some very hard days and can only use them as a tiny template to imagine His feelings about his approaching battle and suffering.

As Talmage cites Jesus' experience in the final weeks of His life (chapters 31-33) I was struck by how heavy and sorrowful the Savior must have felt. As you read in the scriptures about His lament over Jerusalem, His denunciation of the scribes and pharisees, His final withdrawal from the temple, and His final teachings to the apostles you can tangibly feel how excruciating and heavy He was feeling as He contemplated what was still to come.

5. The apostasy was real

Chapter 40 about the apostasy was a fabulous read.

Really understanding that "the windows of heaven had been shut toward the world so as to preclude all direct revelation from God...and mankind had ceased to know God; and had invested the utterances of prophets and apostles of old, who had known Him, with a pall of mystery and fancy so that the True and the Living God was no longer believed to exist" is paramount to understanding the claim of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints-  that God has again spoken to man on earth and that His gospel, including the ordinances and covenants of salvation, have been restored.  If the truth was never lost in the first place we would not need a restoration so knowing what the apostasy is and how it has affected our world is critical to anyone hoping to gain a knowledge of God, as He really is, today.

6. The restoration was and is an incremental process

Finally, chapter 41 discusses the process of the restoration and how God brought back truths that had been lost for centuries. I was grateful to remember that all learning is incremental- for the Savior, for individual people, and for the church as a whole and that revelation comes line upon line. I am grateful to belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and for the revelation that is  coming through a living prophet today. It has blessed my life immensely and is available for everybody on earth today. 

I spoke too soon

I am learning about the nature of pain.

Like any normal person, I think in my pre-great hardship life I honestly did almost anything in my power to avoid pain. Or to distract myself from it. Or to ignore it or shut it down.

Then I was introduced to pain of a completely different magnitude.

The kind that you cannot stop, cannot deny, cannot escape. The kind that you must traverse.

I can say that my experience with pain is a learning process and I am definitely still in the middle of the experiment.

It is too unrealistic to think that I will escape special/holiday/celebratory days pain free.

Sometimes the pain comes in anticipation of the event. Sometimes it comes after everything is over and the dust has settled. And other times it occurs right smack in the special event itself. The irony is that you can never know when it will hit, you cannot control it nor predict it and every time it catches you off guard and hurts all the same.

I had a few painful days several days after my birthday. I was sad and again felt for the loss of Jake's physical presence in our lives and missed so very much the ability to communicate with him.

I can say that as you go through the grieving process the pain becomes more manageable. I assume it is like any great wound. At first it is acute, open, raw and gnawing. But as time passes and it slowly starts to heal the festering nature of the wound lessens and it just becomes a dull ache. However, the wound can be reopened and the healing scratched off and the injury revealed anew. And even when a wound is totally healed, if bumped or scratched or torn it can send a sharp pain throughout your body forcing you to remember that it is there. And no matter how much time goes by or how much it is healed a deep wound will always leave a scar.

I reread this post I wrote in a dark time after Jake's death. That was a terrible time and those feelings were raw and consuming. Thankfully I do not feel that heavy, all the time, anymore. I am so grateful to the Savior for the relief from that absolute pain. But the painful feelings definitely come back, in varying intensities and may for many years to come.

The thing I've learned about pain is that it is real. It comes and it hurts and you have to go through it.

I've recently been reading more in the Old Testament and have been comforted by many verses there.

I've loved the books of Ecclesiastes and Job and appreciate the feeling- the depth of pain, sorrow and grief- evident in their words and experiences. I would recommend a reading of them to you, especially if you are experiencing pain right now. They helped me feel like I wasn't alone- like someone understands and like I am not the first person on earth to feel these huge, heavy and sorrowful feelings.

The writer of Ecclesiastes (assumed to be Kind Solomon) feels so sad. His questions- asking why is there nothing new, why does nothing satisfy, commenting that all is vanity and chasing after wind exhibit real human emotion and experience when confronted with the stuff of life. He asks if the increase in wisdom and knowledge also bring an increase in sorrow and I would say yes in some ways. The more we experience and learn the greater our capacity to feel both good and bad emotions.  We cannot pick up one end of the stick without picking up the other.

And Job.

Dear, wonderful, honest Job.

I had read chapters or verses but never the whole book and the thing I appreciated most was his authentic lamentation over his situation in life. He wished he had not been born so that could have been spared so much pain, he saw no value in his life, he felt like God was against his nature and he loathed living. If you are in a state where you can relate to his feelings you'll find good company in his book.

There are many parts to the story of Job, but the thing that interested me most were the last few chapters. You must read chapters 38-42. After Job has had chapter after chapter to bemoan his lot in life and complain about his station God finally speaks to answer Him. I will quote some verses here because no one can say it better than God himself:

In chapter 38 the Lord answers Job out of the whirlwind and says:

"Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me."

Job had been lamenting and clamoring to the Lord for a very long time and finally He came to answer him. But the Lord's reply is not apologetic. Instead, it seems as though God has come to the battle, He will meet Job on the field of his complaints and He hopes Job is man enough to take it.

Then for the rest of chapter 38, chapter 39, chapter 40 and chapter 41 the Lord proceeds to ask Job where he has been as for eons God has been acting as God- laying the foundation of the earth, shutting up the sea by dry ground, preparing the snow and the hail in their season, managing the clouds to bring forth rain, giving the animals their strength, abasing the proud, creating and managing the fiercest animal on the planet. Where was Job in all of this? What contribution did he make? Where was his power to conduct God's business? Does Job want to be God?

The answer Job gives, to me, is the climax of the story. Upon seeing and hearing of God's power and greatness and glory, Job is humbled to the dust. Job exclaims in chapter 42, that he now knows that God is God and that all of his former utterances were of things he understood not. Then Job- the guy who lost everything and didn't do anything wrong and was righteous and still loves God- repents in dust and ashes. He repents of wanting to change his lot in life and manage his own situation. He decides that he is ok to let God be God.

I love the scriptures.

I love what they teach me about the Lord, his plan and how he works with his people.

And I love that the Lord is willing to work with me, human as I am, giving me chance after chance after chance to learn to let Him be God in my life.

Aging

This last week was a fabulous whirlwind.

I took Lauren on her 12 year old trip to New York, to visit our brother and sister in law who live in Connecticut (Jake's brother) and their sweet little Rosie.

We had a fantastic time, they were wonderful hosts and both Lauren and I came back renewed and grateful for the experience. I'll write more about that if I can get the pictures sorted out.

Then it was my birthday the day after we returned. And boy oh boy were people again kind and loving and good to me. I'm not going to lie. The first birthday after Jake died was horrendous. So terribly painful and exhausting. The second was definitely better. Still very painful but somehow alleviated by the goodness of others. And this year it was a lovely day. No pain. None. It helps that my expectations were also none so I was happily surprised to greet a day full of kind texts, emails, FB posts, flower deliveries, donuts, balloons, decorations, presents and love. Our kids were so darling and were so excited to get me presents and make the day a celebratory experience. My SIL Jenny helped so much in that process and was so kind. I met with friends I love for lunch and talked to dear family members on the phone. My Mom was wonderful to get donuts, balloons and my parents took us to dinner that night.  All in all it was a wonderful day and I felt so cared for and loved.

Then the following day I completed a recent goal to hike to the top of Mt. Timpanogos for the first time. Yes, I am an Orem native but somehow hiking to the top of Timp was never anything I was particularly keen on doing. But with my two trusty hiking friends we got it done and it felt like an amazing accomplishment. These sweet friends entered my life at the all time low, and both figuratively and literally pulled me out of bed, got me up and moving and slowly built back my strength and my ability so that standing on the top of that mountain two years later was finally a reality. I am so grateful for them.

And I am one year older.

It has been a very reflective experience turning an age that Jake will never get to be.

38.

It definitely feels so young. So very very young. I remember once when Jake was sick we were with a friend who was about to turn 40. As expected, this friend was both bemoaning the aging process and anticipating all that they hoped for the next phase of their life. I remember that Jake leaned over to me and whispered "lucky."

Yes, they are lucky.

We who get to age, who get to grow old, who get to achieve and experience and live are lucky. Growing old is a gift.

I think I have an atypical sense of aging.

I look forward to it and hope that the years rush by. The thought of turning 40 (and then 50, then 60, and maybe even 70) makes me happy. I have someone I can't wait to get to. But at the same time I realize more than I could before what a gift it is to be alive. To draw breath. To have a body. To make choices and exercise agency.

Somehow I am healed enough to feel like I want to make something good out of the days I have left. I want to use them to learn. To serve. To love. To comfort. To grow. To feel. To increase. 

In these days there will most definitely be pain, and heartache, and fear, and loneliness and grief. But lately I seem to welcome much more frequently the wonderful aspects and feelings and experiences of mortality into my daily life. I am grateful that most days really are good days.

And I know that it is ok for the two sides of the coin to co-exist. To feel both happy and sad. To find pleasure amidst pain. To feel peace even in times of distress. And living with these co-existing experiences is making my life and my heart so much richer in the process.

Good Men

Many months ago I read a little editorial in the Deseret News that I loved. It was titled Helping men become the positive influence they need to be and you can read the whole article HERE. 

The premise of the article was that with the increased incidence of mass shootings and the 'me too' movement, the trend has been to demoralize men for their terrible behavior. While I in no way condone such action by men, I was grateful that the article called raised a call for more good men. That it stated the need, the great need, our world has for men who are good, who are true, who are kind, who are hardworking, who are examples and who encourage the children and women in their lives.

Such men do exist. I know. I was married to one.

Not having a man living in our home, I can see more clearly the essential role that Jacob played in our family. I can see the things he did, the ways he helped, his role in encouraging and teaching and loving our children now more than I ever could when he was alive. What an oxymoron but truism to many things in life. We cannot fully appreciate what we have until it is taken away. Then our eyes our opened and our ability to understand how good it was is increased.

With that understanding I am now more aware of the good men around us. I watch their interactions with their wives. I see how they treat their children. I listen to them talk about their work and church service. I see them help and serve and support in so many ways. And I feel impressed that they are still many SO good men in the world. They go about their lives quietly and without fanfare, but the contributions they are making to the raising generation are critical. They are teaching, loving and encouraging their children and my children through their good choices and their watch care. They are truly trying to emulate the Savior.

The article ends with a quote by Edmund Burke "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." I have every reason to hope that because of the things I see the good men in our life doing for me and our kids- giving priesthood blessings, playing sports with our children, taking them to the temple, watching football games with them, attending their games, listening to our worries, spending time with us and helping out with projects in our home that evil still has its work cut out for it and that good men will, in the end, with He who is goodness personified triumph.

Catch up

Hello again friends.

It is good to be back.

Tommy started preschool this week and I am relishing a few hours alone in the mornings. I could fill that time doing things- laundry, dishes, cleaning, weeding, money, email, etc. but I really want to be wise in the use of my two free hours per day and use that time to do something that is self-replenishing, rejuvenating and fills up my bucket.

Writing is one of those things so I plan to do more of it.

In recap, we had a good and busy and family/friend filled summer.

It was kind of crazy and the weeks flew by.

The girls were very entrepreneurial and each created a business. Lauren had a "kids club" with two of her friends where they would have kids come to the house for 2.5 hours, and with a theme entertain them, learn and make things with them while the parents got a break. It filled up every week and they made some good coin and learned some great babysitting fundamentals in the process.

Ellie and Ada created a carwash business where they would clean the inside and outside of cars for $5 each. They worked hard and saved up enough to buy a hover-board, after which their motivation to work dramatically decreased although they did keep their car wash commitments to the end. I love the new skills they learned as they can now clean our car as well as the detail shops. :)

Tommy continued to be darling, playing with cars, weapons, legos and dress-ups acting out his favorite scenes from Clone Wars and the Book of Mormon. The war chapters are his definite favorite and any time he has the family night lesson we are acting out a story with a battle between the Nephites and the Lamanites. Luckily there are a few of those.

I felt pretty good through the summer and finished my training for the marathon, after which I've only run a handful of times. I kind of dropped off in the self-care area, so come the end of August I was feeling pretty spent and burned out. Can I say this- taking care of your self if CRITICAL especially when your full time job is to take care of others. This is not a selfish pursuit, but rather filling your bucket gives you reserve to help fill the buckets of others. Thankfully with school starting again (PS. when you are a single parent school becomes the 2nd parent- taking the kids and giving you a predictable break in the day) I've been able to get back to better routines and able to sleep, exercise, read, meditate and even start on a study of the Old Testament and am feeling renewed energy and motivation. Praise heaven.

I can say that when I am physically depleted, mental and emotional depletion are close on its heels and I tend to slide back into the grieving abyss. Thankfully those periods are more brief and less regular than before and I feel like I have some tools to help me climb out of the pit.

Here is my best recap of the summer months. I took very few pictures so you'll have to use your imagination:

June- visit from Phoenix friends, visit from CA Robertson cousins, weekend trip to Rupert to visit my cousins and lots of club time/earning money and soccer practice.

July- Provo freedom festival and stadium of fire, visit from more Robertson cousins, trip to Santa Cruz for the Robertson reunion, trip to LA and San Diego to see my brother and SIL and friends, trip to Phoenix to see friends and swim, soccer tournaments

August- Summer cleaning and house organization, school supply and registration, school clothes/shoes/backpack shopping, organizing and preparing my Let's Play Music classes, school starting, BYU education week, visit from Romney family, fall soccer season starting

And now September is almost halfway over. We have continued with soccer, mutual and activity days and the kids are doing well. I was released from my calling as the co-primary chorister and am now serving as the beehive advisor. It has been a lot of fun and having Lauren in there (and Ellie next year) is exciting.

We have a good morning routine where they help pack their lunches and do a chore while I make breakfast and after school they have time to play, practice piano and make it to a soccer practice. I have been grateful for the cool mornings and the turning leaves that bring on my favorite season- FALL. Weekends are filled with extended family, football games and sports and all in all things are going well and I feel grateful to be in a place where life is predictable, comfortable and enjoyable for all of us.

My race of life

Yesterday I ran in the American Fork Canyon run against cancer half marathon.

One of Jake's high school friends had formed a team to run in his honor and with several more of Jake's high school friends, our family members and friends from Phoenix we formed team "In memory of Jacob Robertson."

I wasn't emotional at all yesterday, but rather felt so grateful and buoyed up from the love of many people who would come and run for Jake. Who love him and miss him too. I was also excited at the prospect of running in a race. I love the energy at a big race and was riding on cloud nine.

But I wasn't unaffected by the experience. You can't be at a race where you know that everyone running has been affected in some way by cancer. Where you see signs all along the route of love and encouragement and remembrance to and from beloved family members and friends. And tonight, once the kids were in bed and I had some time alone with my thoughts the tears and the feelings came.

I cried and cried as once again my heart ached for my beloved spouse. My companion. My true love. My Jacob. 

And my thoughts took me back to a time more than 7 years ago when I ran the Huff to Bluff marathon from Blanding to Bluff, Utah. I wrote all about it HERE. 

In January of 2011 I was finally having a moment to reclaim my body. I'd been either pregnant or nursing for nearly 6 years straight and was looking forward to the chance to exercise regularly/predictably again. After asking a good friend in Phoenix if she'd like to run a 10K race, she told me how instead she and her husband were training for a marathon in May and asked if I would be interested in running it with them.

Without thinking I said yes, and thus ensued my training from couch to marathon in 5 months. I almost backed out, but Jake reminded me that a commitment is a commitment and encouraged me to stick it out. 

So I did. 

I ran and ran and ran. I got a gym membership and ran my weekday runs on a treadmill while the girls played in the gym daycare. My friend and I found babysitters to stay with our kids for several Saturday long runs. And Jake took many shifts early in the morning for hours at a time to watch the kids so that I could train. I remember once running from our house to his work (about 15 miles) and having him pick me up in the van loaded with our girls and taking us all to breakfast. 

Race day came in May and Jake and I loaded up in his car to drive 6 hours to Blanding. My brother and sister-in-law kindly watched the girls that weekend and Jake and I enjoyed the trip together. We arrived the night before the race and stayed in a small hotel. I was SO nervous and worried about the race, but in his usual way Jake was able to calm me down and give me encouragement. He drove me to the starting line and stayed with me until the start,  reminding me of my training and telling me that I could do it. I could hear him cheering for the first many yards of the race. Even as we got going and I couldn't see him anymore, I knew that I was in his thoughts and that he was cheering me on. 

I ran the whole race and ended up doing better than I anticipated. With his busy schedule, Jake had work to do on one of his cases and spent the marathon in our hotel room working away at his computer. We decided that he would not be there along the course. He would see me off at the start, I would call him with a report halfway through the race and then he'd be there to celebrate with me at the end. 

I called him halfway, giving him a slower estimate, and so as I approached mile 25 I called in a panic telling him that I'd be finishing nearly 20 minutes faster than I anticipated. He told me later that he grabbed keys and flew out the door- driving like a demon to get to the finish line in time. He pulled up just as I was at mile 26 and was there to cheer me on for the last .3 miles of the race and watch me cross the line. 

Jake was so supportive after the race, nearly crying when he thought he would miss me finish the course, letting me rehash it all with him, telling me how proud he was of me, tending to my every need and driving me safely home. 

And as I reflected on my first marathon experience I realized that in many ways it is an analogy for the rest of my life. 

I started out this race- this family- our nearly 12 years of marriage- with my dearest friend and companion by my side. 

Jake helped me prepare, he gave me encouragement and he saw me off at the starting line. 

But now I run the race alone. 

Each of the miles, each milestone, each new challenge, each hill to climb are mine to tackle. 

He is not there along the course, although I know he is aware and concerned and cheering for me as I run. 

And so I run.

I keep going. I find strength from the Savior, from friends and family members, from our children, from within. 

And I run.

I may only be at the start of this long race of life without Jake, with two years down and dozens to go but it gives me great hope that if my marathon is analogous to my life, then maybe I will do better than I think. That I won't quit. That I will keep going and surprise us both with the results. 

And I love to picture that in a distant day my sweet Jake will be racing to meet me when it is time for me to cross the finish line.  That he will make it, even just in the nick of time, to embrace me, to say how proud he is of me, to stay with me and to lovingly take me home. 

No joke

Sometimes you have the best intentions...and then you break your arm.

I was really going to be able to spend more time writing.

About my trips. Books I've read. Summertime. Jesus. Raising kids. Widowing. You know, the usual.

And then the day after school got out we had a fun day with neighbors playing games at the sand dunes and at the end of the night just before we were about to leave....

I broke my left radius in a game of capture the flag. I collided with a friend in our ward and somehow it hit the sweet spot and broke my arm.  That or I'm a candidate for early onset osteoporosis.

I'll have my cast on until June 28 and can only type with one hand so this little entry is all you'll have for now.

Until then happy summer to all.  May your days be filled with late nights, ice cream and sunshine.

Today

Hello again friend.

Things have been busy. The kids and I had a great spring break trip to Northern CA to see Jacob's brother Christian and his family and had a fabulous time.

I finished up two first year Let's Play Music classes and held a recital.

The girls and Tommy all played a sport or two this spring- soccer, volleyball, and track as well as attended a few cooking classes and continued with piano lessons and had a recital.

And then I left them in the care of our lovely friend and babysitter Rebekah and went on a trip to Israel for two weeks with my mom.

I think I could write a dozen blogposts from that experience alone.

I am {mostly} looking forward to summer and having kids around, fewer schedules, more daylight hours and time.

And maybe being able to write some more.

I started to read the Book of Mormon again from the beginning and was grateful to reread this experience of Nephi, especially as I contemplate my role as a widowed mother.

He had received instruction from God that he didn't quite know how to accomplish. Nephi was willing to act, but didn't have all the information or know exactly how to get it done.

But he started the journey and recounts that "I was led by the spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do. Nevertheless, I went forth."

I really feel like that is often how it works for me.

I don't know exactly what I'm doing. I don't have all of the answers. But I am willing and I can go forth and trust that the spirit will lead me, and all of us, on this journey that we're on.

Two years

I have had so many feelings about this day.

There is so much that you think about and relive and remember as your spouse was dying and on the day they died. All month I have had images, memories, conversations, and experiences run through my mind about that time. Jake's final weeks on earth.

I feel like I am in a different place and can understand what happened to us with a little more clarity.

We were so worn down by the end of Jake's disease.

I have been reading a journal I kept through those months before he died and over and over wrote about how we both wondered how long we could keep going and what was in store. I can look back and see how exhausted we were from battling his disease and pursuing every option we knew of for treatment.

I also have felt increased sympathy for the pain and heartache we experienced in those final weeks. It's almost as though I am an outside observer, looking in at those heart-wrenching scenes in my mind and my heart aches for the family I am watching. For those 3 little girls and the 2 year old boy who are spending their last moments with their Dad. For the wife who is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. For the husband who is in the depths of sorrow and does not want to die. It is impossibly heavy and I feel for our situation now more than I ever could when we were in it.

Having this new perspective also enables me to gain a better sense of what everyone around us was experiencing. How our friends and family members were aching for our family and how their heavy hearts were burdened and mournful and broken. Oh dear ones, I feel for your pain. I am so sorry but yet so grateful that all of you were willing to go down this difficult road with us. That we were not alone. All week I have had kindness pouring in- letters in the mail, plants delivered, hugs shared, cookies dropped off, texts and emails and messages communicating one message.

Love.

Pure and compassionate and filling in the gaps of my broken heart kind of love. Thank you for being so wonderful and kind to us even as your own hearts are heavy. That is the definition of charity- the pure love of Christ. 

I have also newly ached for what Jake experienced as he died. He could not communicate much in those final days and I do not have any sense of what that pain and suffering was like for him. As his body ceased to function, as his organs and systems closed down and as his life ended. I could always sense that he was terribly heavy and sorrowful and have felt increased sorrow for the lonely road he trod.

I have spent many days wondering how we did it? How did we get through those days? How did we carry that heavy burden? How did we march toward Jake's death, knowing it was inevitable but fearing it nonetheless?  I cannot understand it.

I have also remembered many scenes from after Jake's death. His funeral, his memorial service and his burial. I remember meeting with scores of friends and family members. Hugging, crying, remembering. It was very bitter-sweet.

This whole month has been one of constant remembering. It is good to remember. It is good to feel. It helps me see that with all that was difficult, heavy, trying and impossible there was so much that was encouraging, uplifting, peace giving and love imparting.

And today, two years after Jacob died I would say that my prevailing feeling has been one of gratitude. I know that seems impossible, but as I sit here typing it out that is the overwhelming feeling that comes to my heart.

I am grateful to be alive.

I am grateful to be sealed to Jake.

I am grateful for our four beautiful and thriving children.

I am grateful for the sun that warms each day.

I am grateful for a home that is a sanctuary for our family.

I am grateful for devoted and caring friends, co-workers, ward members and neighbors both past and present.

I am grateful for supportive family members.

I am grateful for scriptures, the temple and prayer.

I am grateful for Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world.

I am grateful for my Heavenly Father who holds the reigns.

Recently I found notes Jake wrote from a testimony that he gave in church one month after he was diagnosed with a GMB. I leave them with you to consider as you go about this new week.

And I quote,

1. My life is a gift from God

2. People are good

3. A lot of people pass through hard things and learn how to better mourn with those who mourn

4. Priesthood leaders, including the bishop, are inspired

5. Few things bring the spirit more strongly than selfless service

6. God hears and answers prayers of our friends from all faiths

7. Living the word of wisdom gives us spiritual and physical strength

8. God loves children and hears and answers their prayers

9. Priesthood blessings are a gift from God to bless our lives

10. The words from the prophets and apostles are inspired

11. The temple brings peace by giving us an eternal perspective

12. God lives. He knows me and loves me and those I love.

End quote.

LDS General Conference

Wow, that was a power packed general conference experience! I loved it so much and felt the spirit renew my faith and enthusiasm for the work.

For those of you who don't know, general conference is a semi annual gathering of the LDS church where instead of meeting in our regular local church meetinghouses, the entire world wide membership of the church gathers to hear messages from our prophet and apostles. These messages are streamed through various sources and families often gather in their homes to watch the conference sessions held over a Saturday and Sunday the first weekend in April and October. Some members outside of the United States gather to local meetinghouses to watch broadcasts of these meetings.

I have always loved general conference. It is a spiritual lift to my life and offers me the chance to reevaluate where my heart is and ally myself closer to the Savior. I love spending a weekend hearing talks prepared through inspiration that remind me of my purpose here on earth and help me renew my dedication to faith in Jesus Christ.

Once a general conference session is over, the talks shared in those two days become the basis for much of our instruction in church meetings over the following six months. Members are encouraged to re-read different discourses and listen to the talks again as much as possible. In the last month I've started training for a half-marathon and have used my running time to listen to general conference talks. It has really been an enlightening time for me and I often come back from a run with inspiration about a problem or a change of heart about an issue after having listened to a conference talk.

I especially loved this conference session as there were many changes made to programs of the church. It was so exciting I didn't want to miss a single session for fear of not being in the know about was going on. I would say the feeling was almost pentecostal in the revelation and inspiration present as the changes were announced and explained. I felt the Holy Ghost in great measure as President Nelson invited the men to stand in the priesthood session (start at 12:50), calling them to arise by quorum and then sing "Rise up, O Men of God." It was incredible.

I am also so grateful for the new Ministering program of the church. Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints take seriously the Lord's instruction to watch over the church and care for the members of our local congregations.  As our family has been the beneficiary of this sort of loving, insightful, and ministering care for years I can see the benefit of this intuitive service in the lives of more members of the church.

Elder Jeffery R. Holland gave a talk entitled "Be with and strengthen them," explaining the change from home teaching to ministering.  To cite an example of what that effort means, he shared a story about a couple in Arizona who had a medical emergency and talked about how in that moment of extreme crisis the husband had the thought to call their home teacher.

I sat and listened to this story with tears in my eyes as I could personally relate to that experience. It was in the middle of the night on Sunday, March 8 when I woke to Jake having a grand mal seizure in our bed. Terrified and not knowing what to do, the thought came to my mind to call our home teacher Blair Smart. He had been our former bishop and was a dear friend and had been, for only the last month, serving as our home teacher. His name was the first that came to my mind on that terrible night and he and his dear wife Gina were at our home within minutes, helping me watch over Jake until the paramedics arrived, following the ambulance to the hospital and taking charge of our children in the morning when they woke up and we were gone. They were and are our dear friends and I knew instinctively that I could call on them at any time for help.

Ministering seems to be an invitation to learn to love people, to befriend people, to help people and to get to know people on a level so that when and if a need arises you will come to mind as a person they can call for help. The Savior is that person for all of us, but I am so grateful for Blair and Gina and for many other people like them who stand in for Him and answer the call to minister to the temporal and spiritual needs of His people.

Books

First I wanted to thank everyone who has been so kind to me and shown your support. I appreciate your comments, your texts and emails and your prayers. I am grateful to be surrounded and cared for by good people.

I could not do it without the verbal, tangible, emotional and spiritual support of dear friends and thoughtful family members.

Thank you all.

So.... I have always loved to read.

When I was a little girl I would spend hours reading books. I read after school, late into the night and for hours at a time on summer days. Books to me have always been a gateway to different experiences, new frontiers, and uncharted emotions. I love a good book and am usually more happy to read than to watch something on a screen.

Thankfully, our girls love to read too and will choose to sit and read after school, on the weekend or at bedtime. They love books. One of our Phoenix friends once told me a darling story. He and his wife had offered to watch the kids to Jake and I could go to a Sun's game (with their tickets) and were charged with putting the girls to bed. They followed the routine which outlined that the girls could read for 30 minutes before turning out the light. Our friend commented that when he went in to enforce the lights out rule, the girls begged to keep reading and he was at a crossroads of what to do. He knew they needed sleep, but found it unusual that they were begging to read with the same intensity as if they were begging for candy. He found it hard to tell a child "stop reading" when generally reading is a good thing for kids to do.

I love that we are a reading family.

Understandably, my ability to read over the last few years has diminished drastically. Reading is a pleasure for a more stable lifestyle and having hours to read has not been a luxury I've enjoyed as much as I used to.

So as I have found a few more free hours in the day I have been able to spend more time reading and wanted to share some of my thoughts about books.

1. I love the public library

Both Phoenix and Provo have wonderful public libraries and we try and take full advantage of them. Our Phoenix house was only a quarter mile away from a library branch and the girls and I would walk there weekly (in the winter...drive in the summer) to get books.

When at the library we check out a LOT of books.

Usually 50-60 at one time.

We keep them for several weeks and that seems to give the kids time to work through their pile. Especially when they were little and Jake and I were reading to them, we would tire of reading the SAME books over and over so we got new books often to add some variety to story time at night.

I think the same thing is true for children. If you only have a few books at home, and your kids have read them all, they will need new material or else they will get bored with reading. Since I don't want to buy a hundred dollars worth of books each month, I can check them out for free each week at the library.

I know what you might be thinking...if you check out 50 books some will get lost!

That is true and has happened to us at least once a year.

However, we usually keep the books in the same place so we know where to find them and I consider the cost of replacing one or two lost books a year to be a nominal expense for the trove of books the kids have had access to and been able to read during that time.

So even paying $50.00 a year to replace several lost books seems very reasonable to me to have had access to over 600 books in that same time.

2. I love audiobooks

This goes without saying- audiobooks are awesome and allow you to have all the advantages of reading while having your hands free.

I have a giant yard with tons of garden beds (topic for another day...not ideal for a widow) and as I've tried to start pruning I've had an audiobook going to help keep my mind occupied. Our library checks them out on a system called overdrive, but you can also get audiobooks as CDs or through subscription services such as audible.

I like to play an audiobook on a road trip as well. The kids and I get engrossed in books as we drive and Jake and I commonly checked out an audiobook for our drive to and from Phoenix to Utah. It gave us something to do with the time, taught us new ideas, and inspired great conversations about the things we listened to.

3. I love good writing

This is hard to describe but I love to read good writing. Words that move me, stories with problems to resolve, sentences with correct grammar and structure, and language that is descriptive and beautiful.  Good writing.

I think good writing fits the saying "you know it when you read it."

I love finding authors who write well and find myself drawn to their stories as their words elicit my imagination, my heart and my mind in their tales. Good writing pulls you away from reality and allows you an escape into another world.

In this vein I have loved using the website Goodreads.com to share book ideas with friends and family.  It is a tool that allows you to share books you've read, that you want to read and that you are currently reading with your friends and rate them and write a review.  I have several friends who appreciate good writing and I can count on their recommendations to provide me with my next good read.

4. I love book clubs

I belonged to the best book club in the world in Phoenix and miss attending with those dear friends each month. It was a book club where one thing always happened- people actually read the book!

I know, surprise, surprise, but there are enough "book clubs" out there that are a disguise for a women's night out with the pretense of talking about a book where few people actually even cracked the cover. Don't get me wrong- I LOVE those kind of girls night out and talking opportunities, but in my mind calling something a book club necessitates the reading of the book.

Our book club met in the day and it was one thing I participated in that served just to fill my cup. I had to find babysitters for our kids for years to be able to attend, but it was such a boost to my mind that Jake regularly encouraged me to do whatever I needed to do to make my attendance possible.

We would start our meeting with someone giving a bio of the author and talking about their background. Then for the next hour or so another person would have a prepared list of discussion questions about the book and we would have the most wonderful conversations about the characters, plot and takeaways from that particular read.  Then we'd end with a pot-luck luncheon where we had time to gab and share about our families and it was always the perfect way to spend a morning.

I have been warmly invited to attend a co-ed book club here in Provo over the last year and have really loved this new book club experience. People come prepared to discuss the book and there is usually some sort of refreshment and I enjoy the interaction and stimulation that comes from participating with this new group of friends.

Book clubs are also great because they expand your reading repertoire by exposing you to books you might not read on your own. They also ensue discussion and collaboration about the things you learned during the read and are an enriching way to connect with other people.

So that's my take on books.

I just finished listening to one of my ALL TIME favorite books.

These is my Words. 

Oh it is such a wonderful, compelling, inspiring and raw story. I was in tears listening to it again and could relate SO much to the main character's feelings and relationship with her spouse.

It's a good one. I highly recommend it.

Books.

I love them. I learn from them. I escape in them. And I am so grateful for them.

Jesus wept

There is no adequate way to write this post.

I know from the outset that even though you will read these words and feel for their meaning, they cannot be understood until becoming a widow or a widower is your own experience.  They will not make sense until you live them.  I know that because it happened to me.

I thought I was prepared for Jake's death.

We knew that he had a terminal disease and for 2 years and 3 months I lived with the prospect of his passing constantly. It tortured my heart and soul and was something I had to work on in therapy, in prayer, in faith, in submission so that I could even cope with the possibility of it.

And in those years, although I dreaded his death with my whole being, I also changed and became willing to accept it if that was God's plan for our family.

You all know what happened.

In March of 2016 Jake had a shunt surgery, which afterward revealed that the cancer cells had diffused in his brain to now the right hemisphere (they had previously only been on the left side) as well as the brain stem and he would only have a few months to live.

And on April 23, 2016 Jacob died.

For the next many months I was in the honeymoon phase of grief and from different people I have talked to I think this is a common experience.

You are given an uncommon strength- a peace from heaven as you face the immediate aftermath of the passing of your loved one. You are comforted by memories with them and the love and kindness and thoughtfulness of people around you is overflowing. You are sort of in a haze and not even capable mentally, emotionally or physically of grasping the reality of what has happened to your life. It is probably that way by design.

But then time marches on and inevitably the honeymoon phase is over.

And your descent into grief begins.

For me that started to happen in earnest almost 5 months after Jake died and remained relatively constant until, for the first time, I've experienced a small reprieve these last two months. And even though I can sense the beginning of healing inside of me, it is and will definitely still be a touch and go, an up and down, a roller coaster ride sort of experience.

There are several things I hope to share about what you experience and what you learn as you mourn the passing of your spouse. I am just beginning to find the words- to find expression for the things I have been feeling for the last two years. And I imagine that the passing of time will continue to reveal more about the grieving experience and help me understand things I was going through that initially I could not even identify, explain or characterize in any way.

1. You lose your identity

I was speaking to a dear friend last week and she said that after her husband died she felt like she lost her confidence. Similarly, my experience has been that I have completely lost my sense of identity- I do not know who I am anymore, I do not know what I like, I do not know what brings me joy, I do not know what my future holds, I do not know how and where I fit in.

I have a new appreciation for all that marriage does to benefit, strengthen, define and bless two people as individuals who come together as one. Marriage is a literal coming together in EVERY possible way. And oh how Jake and I loved being married to each other. You physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually bond and blend yourself with another being and really have no idea of the depth of that relationship until it is severed and you are left as just one half of a whole.

It is upending and infuses every aspect of your way of life and functioning.

No wonder some widows/widowers go crazy. They make bad decisions. They are irreparably changed. They stop living. They are not themselves. They are lost.

This is almost impossible to see from the outside and does not make logical sense.

To anyone looking in, I usually appear to be "doing well," I have remained functional and I appear to be the Jordan I have always been to them. I think most widows retain some level of functionality during this mourning period. Especially those with small children. It is not possible to cry all the time and never get out of your bed. Kids need breakfast every day.

And there is comfort in doing things that require no emotional effort, that are innate, that are rote. So grocery shopping, loading dishes, moving laundry, and reading bedtime stories continue and are a gift of normality when your heart and mind are in turmoil.

But because I cannot be exactly the same Jordan I was when Jacob was alive, because I do not recognize this "new/old" me,  because I feel like half of a whole, this feeling of identity loss that is so pervasive and diffuse has been the hardest for me to bear.

2. You go through chemical withdrawals

There was a very interesting talk I listened to in the BYU widow/widowers conference archive where the presenter spoke about the very real dopamine withdrawal you face as an individual who has lost a spouse.

He talked about how when you are married and experiencing a physically intimate relationship you receive dopamine hits many times a day through those sensory experiences. You have someone there to hug and kiss and touch and when that individual is suddenly gone you go through a real period of physical, and dopamine depleted, withdrawal.

I have never been a drug addict, nor even taken a drug in my life, but when I heard this idea it made complete sense to me. I knew what he as talking about.

Some of the effects of dopamine withdrawal are insomnia and sleep difficulties; anxiety, stress and other forms of fear; headaches and stiffness in muscles; fatigue and weakness; depression, despair and other forms of sadness; lack of focus, attention, concentration (brain fog); mood swings; frustration, irritability, annoyance and other forms of anger; flu, nausea, fever and other forms of sickness; desire to avoid socializing.

I can and have felt the reality of that dopamine withdrawal and it adds a very physical layer to the feelings of loss and pain and grief that you are already experiencing.

3. You experience a level of pain you never knew existed

One of the most startling things that I felt around the five month mark after Jake's death was the immensity of the pain- it was pain that I had no previous experience with and that was so shocking in its force, its depth and its complete control over my mind and heart.

And those first many experiences with this new magnitude of pain are terrifying.

You do not know if you will make it out. You feel encompassed about by its darkness. You do not know if it will ever end.

I was describing it to someone like this- that the hardest thing about that kind of pain is that you do now know where the bottom is. It feels like being thrown into a lake with a weight tied around your feet and you are sinking and sinking and sinking and only want to bottom out, but have no idea where (or more terrifyingly IF) there is a bottom.

I have a new friend who has said that she has rarely seen me cry. I think other people I interact with may say the same thing. I have thought about this and realized that I often don't cry- that sobbing, uncontrollable, body heaving cry in front of other people because when it first started it was so unsettling for me that I did not dare to let it out when I had no idea what would happen. How long it would go on or if I could even recover in the presence of another person. Jake saw me in that state a few times before his death and it was very hard for him to witness because he felt powerless to help. I have also learned that at times the depth of these feelings surpasses tears. It is an internal pain that sometimes cannot even be expressed through weeping or other times it takes weeks for feelings to process before they can even be cried out. It is all part of plumbing the depths of grief and pain.

I wrote about this kind of experience over a year ago. Even re-reading it brings back the reality of those feelings and the raw nature of that pain. I can say that time does help and time does heal. Not that the intensity of the experience is any less painful when it comes, but it does come with less frequency- the waves lengthen out and you start to have moments of peace in between each painful spell. You also become familiar with the pain and it is neither so shocking nor so startling as it was when it was new.

The pain is what you cannot anticipate, you cannot pre-determine, you cannot be prepared for even if you know your loved one will die. My mom lost her father when she was 28 and was acquainted with this sort of pain. I remember a conversation with her shortly after Jake died where she expressed her sorrow at the pain me and the kids would experience. At the time I could not understand that she was talking about. I did not know what that sort of pain felt like. Only after having experienced it can I understand why her heart was sorrowing for us. Why we all sorrow for those who have lost a loved one. The pain is unimaginable.

4. You understand the finality of death.

In the honeymoon phase of grieving you are incredibly comforted with the knowledge that the spirit of your loved one is still there, that they continue to exist and that you can live as a family unit with them again eternally.  This doctrine is an especially comforting assurance found in the LDS church. If you want to learn more about these beliefs CLICK HERE.

I can say that overarching my grief is the knowledge I have gained through the witness of the Holy Ghost that because of Jesus Christ, the resurrection is a reality for Jacob, and for everyone who has ever lived and died on the earth. Because of that gift I will be with my beloved husband again.

However, the blessing of the resurrection seems very very very far away while the reality of death is part of my daily life.

Death is real.

It is final and it changes everything. It has no antidote and it lasts for the rest of your mortal life. Death stings.

And until someone you love has died you almost cannot comprehend the shocking finality of it.

I have come to appreciate a story from the New Testament that sheds light on the truth of this painful experience.

It is the story of Lazarus.

It is the story where Jesus wept.

The record of John states that the sisters of Lazarus sent unto Jesus, notifying him that Lazarus was sick. But instead of coming hastily he abode two more days where he was while Lazarus died. Finally, the Savior starts his journey to Bethany to see his friends Mary and Martha and Lazarus, whom he loved.

Upon hearing that Jesus was coming, Martha ran to him and testified that while she knew he could have saved her brother, she still believes that He is the Son of God and that whatever He asks God will give it to Him. Christ testifies that He is the resurrection and the life and Martha goes to find Mary.

She tells Mary that the Master is come and He is calling for her. Mary comes to where Jesus is and seeing him, falls down at his feet weeping and says "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." And when He sees her- Mary whom he loves weeping, and the Jews that were with her also weeping the record states "he groaned in the spirit and was troubled" and said "Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see."

And so it is that Jesus, himself hurting and surrounded by those he loves who are wounded, who are in pain, who are mourning the death of his and their beloved friend makes his way with them to the place where Lazarus was laid.

And Jesus wept.

He wept.

He did not tell them it would be ok. He did not wonder why they were struggling. He did not ask them to remember the plan or consider the big picture or promise that families can be together forever.

Jesus wept.

That one verse speaks volumes to anyone who has ever looked upon their loved one in death. To anyone who has ever felt the sting. To anyone who ever weeps and hurts and mourns death's blow.

You do not weep alone.

The Savior of the world weeps with you. He sees and feels and knows of this pain- the pain of the sting of death- and He cries with you.

I know because He has cried with me.

Even though Jesus knew what He would do- that in the coming moments He would raise Lazarus from the dead- He still groaned for the aching pain of death that must come before the glorious reality of life.

And if He can weep and groan and feel troubled then so can we. Death is painful and Christ knows it. He knows it and felt it and feels it now.

I am so grateful for Jesus.

For the Word made flesh, who came and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.

He does, so completely, understand.  He has felt what we feel. He stands ready to succor us. He descended below. He is the resurrection and the life.

And He wept.

Many ways to love

I have a dear friend named Susan who did something selfless for me.

She and I served together for three years in our stake (an geographic region of people who attend worship services together) and became good friends in the process.

I love Susan and appreciate the many creative gifts she has, especially her ability to quilt.

Shortly after Jake died, she contacted me and said that she would like to make a quilt out of some of his shirts. I was so grateful for her offer, and as we prepared to move and I sorted through his clothing I chose several of his shirts that had meaning to me. He wore one in a family picture. He loved to go golfing in another. He wore one to church and to the temple. He humored me by wearing one that was sort of unusual. Each held a memory of him and the day before we moved away I took them in a plastic sack to Susan's house.

And then I totally forgot about them.

With the hustle and bustle of moving and getting settled, Ada's broken wrist, kids starting school and then consuming grief, the idea of the shirts and the quilt just left my mind.

But Susan did not forget and was busy at work.

She visited me this last fall (2017) and showed me a picture of the quilt top. I was so surprised and thrilled to see it.



And it is Beautiful. Stunning. Lovely in every way.

I had handed her a very random assortment of shirts. They did not match, or even coordinate and it must have been a trick to figure out how to make them blend together. She told me she looked at different quilting ideas for weeks until she saw a 4 square pattern that she thought would work.

She had to cut the shirts into 2 inch squares.

Two inches.



She carefully cut out elements on the shirts that she knew I would appreciate. A Y from the golf shirt and quail from the unusual one.

And then she sewed each of those squares to another.



Her genius was in using the ombre grey scale as the coordinating fabric and in placing the squares in an ombre pattern. It is modern, classic and brings balance to the random assortment of shirt squares.

When the kids and I returned to Phoenix in December Susan was sewing night and day to get it done. In the rush of the Christmas season she was quilting non-stop for me.  She quilted the entire thing and along with her kind daughter and another dear friend Jeri, finished the binding by hand. She texted me the night before we left and said it was ready.

When I pulled up to her house on my way out of town I was so excited to pick it up.

And as she got it out and showed it to me I just started to weep. I looked over the quilt and saw all the time, effort and love that she put into making it and I couldn't believe that she would do that for me. I could sense how much she wanted to soothe my aching heart by giving me a piece of Jake- by preserving these shirts as memories- by making them comforting to me.  It was a true labor of love.

I have it on my bed and am so grateful for this visual and comforting reminder of my sweet Jacob that I see and use and appreciate every day. It is a treasure to me.

As I hugged Susan and thanked her for making it she said something important. She said,"I love through quilting."

I have thought a lot about that statement and think that it contains so much truth. We all love in different ways. We each have gifts, abilities, talents, proclivities that enable us to show love to those around us in ways that are individual and personal to us.

And as I considered this truth even more I can see evidences of the many ways that we have been loved as a family and as individuals in these trying years.  We have been loved through cooking and baking. We have been loved through hairstyles. We have been loved through organization. We have been loved through babysitting. We have been loved through vacations. We have been loved through flowers. We have been loved through accounting, legal and financial consultations. We have been loved through empathetic conversations. We have been loved through decorating. We have been loved through invitations. We have been loved through prayer.

I am so grateful for our God who, by design, gave us each different gifts. "For all have not every ^agift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God."

I am grateful to know that to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God. I am grateful that these gifts are different. I am grateful that we can develop our unique gifts and use them to bless the people around us. I can love others in ways that are unique to me and be loved by people who love in ways that are unique to them.

If you're ever around and want to see the quilt I'd love to show it to you.

Thank you Susan for loving me through quilting.

It is a treasured gift. 

A gift from our children

I wanted to write about something that our dear kids did for me the day after Valentine's day. 

I was having a hard time on V-day but did my best to make it a good day for the kids. As children often do, they saw right through me and finally in the afternoon I told them that I was having a sad day and that I missed their Dad. They were so sweet and loving and wrapped their arms around me. I instantly felt better. 

Later, as the evening progressed, Ellie and Ada got paper out of my craft closet and went downstairs to "do a craft." I walked in on them and they hurriedly covered whatever it is they had been working on. I didn't think much of it and got them all settled and into bed.

The next morning, February 15, I woke up and heard a sort of soft rustling at my bedroom door. Initially I just thought the kids were playing in the hallway. Several minutes later I heard a knock on the door and little feet running away. I didn't know what to do so I just proceeded to lay in bed. After a few minutes the door drifted open and I could see that it was covered from top to bottom with hearts. I had been heart attacked by my sweet girls and boy, who had set their alarms and woken up at 6:30 am to do it.

I got up with such gratitude and proceeded to read each and every message they wrote to me. Then Ellie beckoned me into the hallway where I saw this sign- and I just started to cry. It said "We love you Mom and so does Dad." 

I don't know how he did it- but that little banner was a message straight from Jacob to me. It was a message that Heavenly Father knows that I am here. That He understands my sorrow. That He has not left me alone. And that through Him, Jacob is still able to have influence in our family.

It reminded me that I am loved, currently, completely and eternally by my dear husband.

I know that because I felt it that day through the loving kindness of our children. 

I am so grateful for my dear Lauren, Ellie, Ada and Thomas and for their ability to listen to and follow a prompting to serve and help and bless me. They are the dearest little people and teach me so much through their examples. 

I am grateful to be their mother.

And I am grateful that they heart-attacked my door and left me just the message I needed that day.

Writing

In some ways I have shied away from writing for the blog for several reasons:

1. You can only write that you are as sad as you've ever been so many times.
2. The daily gring can feel pretty monotonous and uninteresting.
3. Without Jacob's health updates there isn't as much essential information to communicate.

But at the end of the day I really do love writing. It is something that enriches me, that lifts my thoughts and that helps me feel like I can serve in my own small way.

I had a good talk with my visiting teachers yesterday and came away with the idea that in the next months and years I can take some time to explore things that are interesting to me. I can learn a new skill. I can develop a neglected talent. I can volunteer with causes that are meaningful to me.

This idea, today, is still kind of overwhelming as I grapple with a very limited amount of available time. I am kind of hard wired to work first and then play and am finding that in parenting/home maintenance the work is NEVER ENDING.

For real.

For example, yesterday Tommy and my nephew threw pencils and then marbles at the screen of our downstairs TV.

And broke it.

Yep, never ending.

There is almost always something productive that I could or should be doing.

But after trying last week to work all of the time (I had a to do list that filled an entire 8x11 page) while having sick kids, getting inadequate sleep, and fitting in marathon training I burned myself out.

That is not good for anyone.

I am sure many of you know the feeling. You are tired, irritable, feel unproductive, can't get anything (and definitely not everything) done, inefficient, etc. and you just give up and throw in the towel.

That is where I was and this is what happened.

I went to bed one night and had a very clear impression that I needed to stop, slow down and take more time for me.

To do a thing or two that would replenish and not diminish my tank.

So I did.

Saturday I took a nap only 2 hours after waking up.

Sunday I pursued the newspaper.

Yesterday I read a whole book. (...and the tv got broken. Correlation or causation? I don't know :)

But you know what? I feel a little bit better. I have some juice in the tank and feel like I have something to give.

It should be obvious.

I am a human. I am not a machine. I have limitations. I cannot be productive all of the time. I have to stop. I have to replenish. I have to rest.

But when I get in my "to do" mode it can be very hard and unnatural to switch it on and off. When I get working on the list I want everyone and everything out of the way so I can 'get 'er done.' I love the thrill of crossing things off the list. I love tackling tasks that have been bugging me. I love the rush of getting things done. But when it comes at the cost of making me irritable, mean and resentful of the (little) people around me, I have gone too far.

There must be a balance.

Jacob knew this well and helped me so much in this way. His frequent role in our marriage was to give me permission (and often encouragement) to stop, to take a break, to rest. I miss that so much.

I have a scripture in Alma framed by my bed. It talks about how Alma "returned to his own house...to rest himself from the labors which he had performed...and thus ended the ninth year of the reign of the judges." From these verses, it seems that Alma rested for weeks or even months after his hard labor.  He was a prophet and had established the church of God, but he was allowed and even encouraged to rest. I can do the same. Sometimes I forget and burn out, but thankfully I can also remember and rest again.

So back to writing.

Writing is something I love, that replenishes and that makes me happy. It is something I enjoy and it allows me to expel some of the thoughts in my mind. So even though I may not have anything groundbreaking to say I still want to give it a go.

When a day gets long or when I need a break I can come to the computer and I can write. I am giving myself permission.

Just typing that makes me happy.

Here we go friends.

Let the writing begin.