Which Part is Mine?

Healing from a tragedy takes time and often during the healing process we experience some sort of a trigger or a backslide. It had been over a year since that horrible day CPS and a detective showed up at my door when my little family experienced a major backslide emotionally.

It was the end of a long day with the kids and I was feeling strung out, overworked, and frazzled. It had been a tough week with the kids and I had been facing parenting difficulties with them that I didn't know how to tackle alone as a single parent.  It seemed that thing after thing was piling up and my load felt heavy. I was struggling to balance the needs my mom had with the needs of my four kids and I felt like I had let everyone down. I felt like a failure. Nevertheless, the dishes needed to be done one more time. The youngest was still in his high chair finishing up and the other kids were watching a cartoon in the other room while I diligently forced myself to finish the dishes. What happened next has happened many times before, in many homes and many families, and will continue to happen, I'm certain; the baby threw his bowl on the floor. I don't even remember what we ate that night what I do remember is that whatever it was splattered everywhere making a giant mess and creating one more thing I needed to do. I snapped, blind rage came over me and I threw the rag and dish back into the sink and immediately burst into tears. Then I proceeded to exclaim in between sobs, "Why? Just Why? I can't do it anymore! I quit! Nobody helps me! I'm all alone and it's too much! I'm done!"

I had made quite the scene and attracted the attention of the older three kids. They were staring at me with wide, tear filled eyes. My daughter walked over and put her little arms around my waist and then burst into tears of her own. "I miss daddy! I think I might have said something about him and now he's in trouble and can't be with us." What was happening?!? This was supposed to be my turn to tantrum and I thought she had worked through most of these feelings in counseling. I had triggered these feelings to come forward for her again. Guilt washed over me and I felt so discouraged that we were back to this place again. I needed to fix this, I led her to her room so we could talk without upsetting the little boys. I put my arms around her and prayed silently for strength to comfort her, to say the right things. I didn't feel worthy to be the one caring for her. I knew she deserved comfort and help and unfortunately I was all she had in that moment. I humbled myself and asked for forgiveness for losing my cool and prayed that somehow I would know what to do.

"Just love her, let her cry, show her your pain and vulnerability".

So we cried. I held her and we just sobbed. Then the words started to flow from me, "I know baby, I know you miss daddy. It's not fair. I'm so sorry you have to feel this way. I'm so sorry! I wanted childhood to be easier for you. Simple. It's not fair. This is not your fault. You are a brave little girl."

At some point my oldest son came in and started rubbing both of our backs. My SIX YEAR OLD was giving us comfort! My heart broke that he felt so much responsibility to do so at such a young age but it also surged with pride that he was so compassionate. I pulled the two of them in for a group hug and asked them if they thought it would be a good idea to say a prayer. They both nodded their heads so we knelt in prayer. Tears streamed down all of our cheeks as we prayed for comfort and we prayed for Nic, that he might know how much they still loved him and that he might truly repent so that he could see them again someday. In my heart I prayed that he might really see how special they are and how much he hurt them so that he can make it right someday and they might find peace regardless of his actions. (Again, I will NEVER put my children in a compromising situation. I won't force them to have a relationship with him ever. I believe they will each have their own journey in finding peace with him. I simply am hoping for him to work on fixing himself enough to try and do all that he can to help them heal and give them the kind of relationship they think they want with him in the future.)

That moment of prayer with my two oldest kids, although painful, bonded us even deeper. I felt the spirit so strongly testifying to me that I was doing enough. I was teaching them that sometimes we make mistakes and we don't always know the answer. I was teaching them to turn to the one person who did have the answers, their Heavenly Father. I was teaching them that it is okay to be sad sometimes. I was teaching them how to give comfort to others. I was doing better than I thought. So much love filled that little room where the three of us knelt in prayer.

That night when saying my personal prayers my heart was full of gratitude for His love and divine help raising His children. I might be a full time single mom but I am not raising my kids alone! Heavenly Father would always be there to fill in the gaps I am missing. What could have been a major setback for us turned into something that made us more unified and stronger as a family. Our backslide turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

As I've reflected back on that experience a song from Michael McLean comes to mind.



"Which Part is Mine?"

She was only a dairy man's daughter,
she was only a child of thirteen;
but the stars on the radio brightened her nights with a dream.
So she called up her best girlfriend Jenny
'cause she thought they would make quite a pair,
She said, "Let's you and me, try to sing harmony
at the amateur night at the fair."

But she only had the range of an alto,
so the part she knew best went to her friend.
And when Jenny's soprano drowned out the piano
they'd have to start over again.
And the dairyman's daughter would then say,

"Which part is mine?
and Jen, which part is yours?
Could you tell me one more time;
I'm never quite sure.

And I won't cross the line
like I have before.
So please help me learn which part is mine,
and which part is yours."

She grew up and got married to Bobby
kept him working on his MBA
they had two little redheaded children,
and one on the way.

Everybody said she could work wonders,
and she wondered what everyone meant.
She played so many roles, it was taking its toll
and she feared that her time was misspent.

So she opened her heart to her husband.
They discussed everything on her list.
from the kids, to the job,
to her feelings for her Bob.
But what it really boiled down to was this: She said:

"Which part is mine?
and Bob, which part is yours?
Let's review it one more time;
I guess I"m not sure.

And I won't cross the line
like I have before
if we just define which part is mine,
and which part is yours."

Every sleepless night knows many mothers
who are wond'ring if they've done alright.
And the dairyman's daughter knew
more than a few of those nights.

Had she given her son too much freedom?
Had she smothered her two teenage girls?
Did she spoil them too much or not trust them enough
to prepare them for life in this world?

So she opened her heart to the heavens
and she spoke of her children by name.
And the prayer that she prayed
that her kids would be saved had a very familiar refrain.

Which part is mine?
And God, which part is yours?
Could you tell me one more time,
I'm never quite sure.

And I won't cross the line
like I have before.
But it gets so confusing some times.
Should I do more, or trust the divine?
Please, just help me define which part's mine,
and which part is yours.

Did you hear me?
I can feel you near me.
It is the answer
that I've been longing for;

just to know you hear me,
and to feel you near me.
It's all the answer
that I've been longing for.

Did you hear me?
I can feel you near me.
It is the answer
that I've been longing for;

just to know you hear me,
and to feel you near me.
after I've done my best,
I know you'll do the rest.
It is the answer that I've been longing for!


I had forgotten to play just my part. I had been trying to do it all because I thought I was the only one there was to do it all. I had forgotten about Heavenly Father's part! As a single parent I blurred the lines and it was easy for me to take ownership of more responsibility than I really needed to. I didn't have to be a perfect parent to make up for the parent they were missing. I just needed to do my best to love them the way only I can. My favorite part of that whole song is the line that goes, "after I've done my best, I know you'll do the rest." So much comfort flooded my heart when I realized I just have to do my best and that is enough. When I've done my part Heavenly Father will do the rest! I have spent many nights praying and wondering if I was enough to raise these four kids. Praying a good man would come along and help me, thinking if he didn't I wouldn't be able to successfully raise these kids alone. Now I know being a single parent does NOT mean I am raising them alone! I have faith that if I never remarry, or even if I do for that matter, that after I've done my best, He will do the rest!

Raising kids will undoubtedly be harder than I can even imagine. You never know the temptations and trials that they will face. They have already experienced very challenging things at such a young age. I'm certain it will be the hardest thing I ever do if I do it well. I don't know what their futures look like but I'm choosing to have faith that even when it doesn't seem like it, my faith and love combined with Heavenly Father's will work in their favor even when I can't see it. 

Because He Lives

I've been feeling for a few weeks now that I need to write about my dad and his passing. With Easter Sunday quickly approaching I think it's become even more relevant to share this particular story. It's a very difficult thing for me to be so publicly open about because those memories are so special and sacred to me but I can't shake this nagging feeling that I need to share. A portion of this I have already shared in a different post, "Not as I will, but as thou wilt."  It's time that I tell the complete story. Here goes nothing and hopefully ya'll will understand how special this is to me. Some things you never forget...

It was a lazy summer morning and I had been out late the night before with friends. It was just my mom and I at home because my dad was working out of town in Rock Springs, Wyoming with his brother. I was sitting at the breakfast table enjoying a bowl of cocoa puffs when the phone rang. My mom was out on the front porch waving goodbye to my Aunt Shar so I got up and answered the telephone; it was an old fashioned one with large buttons and a long, curly cord. I didn't know it yet but what was about to happen next would change my life forever.

"Hello."

"Hi Celeste, this is Uncle Walter is your mom there?"

Something about that moment felt wrong. I don't know if it was the tone in my Uncle Walter's voice or something else but I knew from just that one sentence that something was seriously wrong. I remember feeling a sense of urgency to get my mom. I went to the porch and told her as calmly as I could that Uncle Walter was on the phone for her. I remember following her back to the kitchen like I was her shadow. I didn't want to miss a word she said. At that point I have blacked out the memory and I don't remember exactly what was said or the expression on her face when she heard the news. The next thing I remember she was telling me to follow her back to her bedroom. Words came out of her mouth in a blur. My brain couldn't catch up and my heart couldn't process what she was telling me.

"Dad had a heart attack."

 "He's being life flighted to LDS Hospital downtown Salt Lake."

 "We need to call Kenton".

The next thing I knew we were praying and my mom was pleading over and over again, "Lord, please help us to accept Thy will!" I'll never forget that prayer and the impact it had on me.

My brother Kenton was called and he came to pick us up and drive us to the hospital. My mom and I were a wreck of nerves and he was calm and peaceful. Once we got to the hospital we sat with other family members in the waiting room for what seemed like forever until we finally heard the helicopter that was bringing my dad in from Wyoming. It was both comforting and nerve wracking to know that he was finally in the same building as us and that the doctors would be able to see how bad the damage was. Was he going to live?

The next week was one of the most difficult weeks of my life. My dad had no brain activity so they decided operating on his heart would be pointless. He was in a coma and it was up to us, his family, to decide what to do. We waited to see if there would be any mireacles, any improvement at all, any sign that he might live. We waited for all of the family to have a chance to see him. My mom and I stayed in one of the hospital rooms so we could be near him and so other family members from out of town could have more space to stay at our house. I paced those hospital halls so many times and quickly I felt like I had the place memorized.

LDS hospital is up on a hill in the avenues of downtown Salt Lake. One day I just had to get away! I couldn't stand being in that hospital one more minute agonizing over the details of my dad's condition. I took off on a walk down the hill in a rage. "How is this real life? If I lose my dad now he won't see me graduate from high school, get married, or even have babies. It's not fair!" I was particularly upset that he wouldn't be around when I had babies. My dad was the best grandpa! He loved the grand kids and could always be found wherever they were even if that was down on the ground hiding in a fort. As I made my way into temple square with these heavy thoughts on my mind I noticed what a beautiful day it was. People were out and about enjoying the weather and one another's company. I saw a group of people laughing and felt genuinely surprised that there was still happiness in the world and life was going on for everyone it seemed but my family. I felt like I was in an alternate reality where time stood still for me but went much too quickly for the rest of the world. I wandered into the General Conference building (which was fairly new at the time) and I sat upstairs in the room with all of the statues of the prophets in a state of disbelief and shock. "Lord, help me! I'm just a girl. I don't know how to do this! Girl's need their dads!"

Eventually I ended up in the Joseph Smith Building watching a screening of, "The Testaments of One Fold and One Shepard". The movie is about Christ's appearance in the America's after He is resurrected. I completely lost control at the end of the movie when Christ showed the people the prints in his hands and feet. There I was in the most pain I had ever experienced in my young life and the pain didn't go away necessarily, but in that moment I knew my dad wasn't going to live and that it was going to be okay someday. The answer I had been dreading, the answer I knew deep down to be true was there smack dab in my face. I couldn't hide from it. My dad was going to die. He was not coming back to me in this life. I didn't know how I would go on but I knew I would go on and things would eventually heal. I knew it was okay because when I watched those people in the movie touch Christ's hands and feet the spirit testified to me that that was real! It really happened! Christ died and rose again on the third day and because of Him death was not really the end!

Eventually the doctors gave us the cold, hard truth; if he did come back he would most likely be a vegetable. We had a decision to make as a family and on July 14, 2004 we pulled the plug on all of the equipment that was keeping him alive. I have never felt more love in one room than I did that day. My entire family crowded around his bed and my mom asked my brother to read a scripture:

Psalms 23:4

Yea, though I walk through 
the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil: for
thou art with me; thy rod and 
thy staff they comfort me. 

Ocean waves were playing in the background. My dad so dearly loved the Oregon and northern California coast, it was a part of his soul the same way it is now a part of mine. A prayer was said and the equipment unplugged. My mom whispered in my dad's ear, "fly, baby fly, you're free" and one single tear slid down my dad's cheek. Many things happen naturally when a person dies, a physical reaction to the body shutting down but I believe that was his way of saying how much he would miss us and how sorry he was for all of the sadness we would feel. Within a few minutes his chest slowly stopped rising and falling and he was no longer with us in his mortal body. My sister Laura turned to me and with thick emotion embraced me and wept on my shoulder, "oh Buggie, I'm so sorry!" My grown brothers who were always so calm and safe, my protectors, were bawling on my shoulder. That day changed all of us forever.

On July 19th, a Monday, we held his funeral and shortly after family left to get back to their lives. It was the emptiest feeling on the planet being in our home with just my mom, knowing we would not hear my dad's laughter coming from the other room anymore. For about a month our dog, Charlie, would sit in the window waiting for my dad to come home. A couple of times he even ran out in the street confused, looking for him. Eventually he stopped waiting in the window and it broke my heart. He really was gone.

So many people showed us so much love during that time. We received countless cards and visits from well wishers. A family in the neighborhood brought us a massive breakfast to feed our ENTIRE family. My mom was serving as Young Women's president at the time and I was a laurel and the Young Women made us the most heartfelt cards. During our stay at the hospital my mom and dad had their 18th wedding anniversary. The staff all signed a card and got my mom a cake. I was so touched by their compassion. Many friends and school mates of mine showed up to my dad's funeral, never having met my dad, just to support me. I still look back on all of those kind acts of sympathy and love with such tenderness and gratitude!

My senior year of high school was rough. Grief encompassed me and I did my best to act normal, to be fine, but I wasn't fine. I felt like I was an actor in my own life. Many times after school I would throw my backpack on the floor and collapse onto my bed and just lay there, empty, depressed. Sometimes I couldn't move for hours and no tears would come and other times I couldn't seem to get off of my knees from a prayer and make the tears stop. I never thought the pain would end.

Time went on and I moved up to Idaho, got married, and had four kids. Gradually, with each year the pain got less and less. Sadness turned to gratitude for the time I did have with him and that I got to have him as my dad. I would rather have David Leavitt Ewell as my dad on this earth for only 17 years than any other dad until I was 80.

I have felt my dad's presence here and there over the years; usually when I am enjoying my kids, his grand kids. I have told my kids stories about their grandpa and seen tears in their eyes as they realized how special he is to me. It touches my heart to see them still have a relationship with him on some level. We can't drive by his cemetery without the kids yelling, "Hi grandpa!" On Valentines Day they made him valentines without even telling me and then asked to take them to him. One day I was upstairs helping my mom and I came downstairs to find the kids watching a home video of him completely entranced. They have never physically known him but they do know him and that brings my heart so much joy. Death has not kept them from having a relationship with him! They are learning the eternal nature of families at such young ages and I couldn't be more touched or amazed at their comprehension. It is a beautiful thing!

This last year has undeniably been the hardest of my adult life. One of the many tender mercies I have experienced is the sacred blessing of feeling my dad's presence with greater intensity and frequency. I feel him all the time, all around me. I know he is guiding and protecting me and my little family. I am convinced he was with my daughter giving her comfort and courage when she decided to tell someone she was abused. I know the love he felt for his grandchildren that were living at the time and I know that that love is no different than the love he feels for my kids now.

I have felt him giving me companionship and comfort on some of my darkest days. On one occasion I was praying and missing him terribly. I craved the comfort only a father can give and I said, "I love you dad, Heavenly Father please let him know I love him, I miss him." What happened next was a first for me and a much needed tender mercy. I distinctly heard the words, "I love you too Buggins". Every cell in my body knew he was there and that those words were coming from him. I instantly felt warm and as if I was hugging him once again.

I talk to him frequently about my mom. Not in the regular way you would talk to someone living but I feel things in my heart and send messages to him. "Dad, please help me take care of mom. What should I do?" I have felt him many times around us and I know he is here often even when we can't feel him.

My message today, my whole point in sharing all of this deeply personal stuff, is that life does not end at death! This Easter season my heart is so full of overwhelming love for our Savior. Because He lives I know that my dad will live again too, as will my mom. We ALL will live again because of Him! Death is still hard, there is a hole left in your heart that only time can slowly heal but the sting, the finality of it, is swallowed up in the crucifixion and resurrection of our Savior! As a 16 almost 17 year old girl watching a movie about the Savior's resurrection I knew my road would be long and painful but I also KNEW that it would be okay one day. It will be more than okay, we will all live again, of that I am certain! I don't know why I've been so fortunate to feel my dad when others might not have but I do know because of those experiences he is alive and well right now! Life goes on and we don't need to say goodbye the way we think we do. I feel a deep and immense love for our Savior. Because He lives I don't ever have to wonder if I will see my loved ones again. I still get to have my dad with me and my kids still get help from my dad, all because He lives! What has been made possible for you because He lives?