"I Am the Tree", The Beginning of My Faith Crisis

I have missed writing! I have so many things to say and no idea how to say it all or where to begin. My thoughts the last couple of years have felt like a tornado of sorts. How does one process so many emotions and keep them all straight? The fear of not being able to sort out all of my feelings and be understood has kept me from writing. I have NOT felt, "stronger, braver, fearless". I have longed to be able to write and make sense of how I feel. For me writing is therapeutic and empowering. Through the power of the written word I am liberated from all of the feelings that weigh so heavily on me. In addition, I desire my words to have meaning and possess a beauty that can only exist when hearts are touched. I long to be seen, to be validated, to change lives. The only way to do that is to be vulnerable. Vulnerability for me is a means in which to take what my heart feels, all of the pain and joy this life has given me and do something more with it. Connect with others because of it, help others to also feel seen, feel validated and change their lives. Human connection, vulnerability, and love are the only true and real things I know. The constant threads that weave my life together. So here I am being vulnerable once again. Exposing my heart and soul for someone to read someday. Whether it's my children after I'm gone or whether I publish this on the internet for the world to read. Whomever reads this, I hope they can see my heart and I hope by seeing into my heart, that their hearts will be touched as if my words are enveloping them in love.

I'm back to the question of, where to begin? I guess the best place to begin is not necessarily at the beginning but what I've been thinking about most recently, where my thoughts currently linger which is the start of my faith crisis.

Back in I believe September 2018, my husband confided in me that he was having doubts about whether or not the LDS church is true. I recall feeling concerned but thinking they were only doubts and he would be okay. As time went on, however, I discovered that these doubts had grown to become more serious. They had apparently begun for him when he came across some historical essays the LDS church had published on their website. Many of the things he read didn't match the narrative he had been taught his whole life and they stirred up even more questions for him. His story is much more complex than that but ultimately his doubts grew to a point where he could no longer ignore them. Our marriage had already been rocky (due to baggage we each brought to the table from our previous marriages) so when I realized that these were no longer just questions I was overcome with despair. McClane wept as he relayed to me where his heart was at in regards to the church. He told me he was so afraid I would leave him and how painful his faith crisis was for him. Burned into my mind and etched in my heart is an image of him sitting on the side of our bed just sobbing into his hands, completely broken down, exclaiming over and over again, "I didn't go looking for this, I didn't want this and I wish I could go back to not knowing".

Having lost both of my parents I would relate the grief I saw in him at that moment, comparable to the grief I saw in my siblings at each of my parents deaths. I could see how much pain he was in and how broken he was sitting there sobbing "I wish I could go back, I wish I never read those essays". There was no way I could be angry with him in that moment. I believe when your heart experiences deep loss it then gains the ability to recognize that same loss in others. Looking at McClane in that moment all I could do was hold him and let him cry in my arms. I didn't understand what he was going through and frankly I was terrified of it but my heart could feel the heaviness of his loss. I wanted to take his pain away.

After that night we came to an agreement, McClane would still come to church with me and the kids to support us. I still completely believed in the LDS church. I didn't ask him to come, but because he didn't wanted to be a burden or disrupt our lives he wanted to go to support us. I respected him even more for his loyalty to us and his desire to support us. There was a small part of me at first, that thought maybe if I prayed faithfully for him, over time the Lord would heal his heart and he would find his way back. I mentally committed myself to respecting his boundaries and privately praying for him. That didn't last very long as it became evident to me that he truly no longer believed the LDS church to be true and was never coming back as a "true blue mormon". One Sunday in particular comes to mind as the tipping point in this realization.

We were sitting in Sunday school and the topic that was being discussed was the Plan of Salvation and the three degrees of glory. A woman made a comment about how we will be at peace and content with where we end up because we will be the most comfortable there even if our families aren't in the same degree of glory. McClane said under his breath "that's bull crap".

The Plan of Salvation for me was an area where I had a very solid testimony. After losing both of my parents I put all of my trust in the Plan of Salvation that I would see them again. So to hear McClane say that openly in church felt very unsupportive. I felt betrayed. Uncontrollable tears seared my cheeks. I wept quietly, furious and heartbroken that he would say that. I felt completely gutted and disrespected in that moment. Due to my emotional state we skipped Relief Society and Priesthood and went to talk in the car. Talking with McClane in the car is another poignant memory for me. I cried and told him how I had been nothing but supportive of him, never uttering a negative word about his new beliefs. I told him how alone I felt, how it would be easier if he didn't come to church to support me if he was going to make comments like that. I told him how offensive and disrespectful I thought it was to the other people sitting in Sunday school. I cried and said so many things to McClane that finally he blurted out, "I don't think Joseph Smith was a prophet!" 

Bang! My ears started ringing and time stood still as if a gunshot had been fired. Every detail of that moment still comes so vividly back to my mind: the way I felt sitting in the passenger seat of our suburban, the way my makeup was smearing down my face, the way my nylons were bunching up on my waste, the way the sky seemed so much grayer than it had ever been. I remember feeling like the cold of winter was seeping in through the doors of our car and penetrating my skin. I fixated my gaze on a tree in front of our car, the tree was bare with no leaves and appeared so gloomy, so lonely like it would never know the company of the sun or see the color of leaves again.  I remember thinking, "I am that tree". I felt numb. Everything I had prayed for, everything I had ever hoped or wished for, everything I thought I finally had was officially gone. It was hopeless, McClane was 100% out and never coming back.

 "When did you know you didn't believe in Joseph Smith as a prophet?" I asked. "I thought we agreed we'd communicate about any new beliefs as they evolved so I wouldn't be left in the dark".

"I just recently came to that conclusion, I'm sorry", he replied. The air around us felt stale and tears streamed down both of our cheeks now. McClane apologized for not being more respectful and promised he would always respect my beliefs moving forward. To be honest his apology didn't mean much to me then because I felt completely and utterly hopeless.

"This is it", I thought, "stay and never know the fullness of joy that being married to a worthy priesthood holder brings or leave and break everyone's heart, mine included".

I felt pretty bleak for a while. There are other things that come to mind that solidified my knowledge that McClane was out of the church forever,  like the time I saw him wearing underwear and not garments for the first time, but none of those moments felt quite as soul crushing as that moment in the car did after Sunday school. And now here I am, nearly a year later, feeling just as certain that I am that tree in the church parking lot. But the crazy thing is that spring came and that tree bloomed. Just as surely as that tree knows winter it also knows the sun. Winters have been long and hard for me and when I am in winter I feel like it will never end. I am here to say that I also know the glory of the sun and the vivid colors of summer. For the first time in my life I feel the innate goodness in myself, the sunshine, and I am learning to access the sun in the middle of winter. I no longer need life circumstances to reflect summer in order to feel the sun on my back. Nor do I need outside praise or approval to be worthy of feeling the sun kiss my cheeks.

There is so much more to my story, to our story. It's been a long, hard year and healing doesn't happen overnight. I have spent countless nights confused and afraid, grappling with my feelings about religion and what life looks like for me and our family moving forward. There have been months on end where I have operated on autopilot because I could not allow myself to feel one more negative emotion or it would destroy me. I have teetered too close for comfort on the thin line between sanity and a true psychotic breakdown. Mormonism is not something you ever just walk away from without any repercussions. It's a way of life, an entire belief system that shapes your world view about everything and everyone. It has been a truly soul searching, gut wrenching, mind boggling year for us. Y'all it has been winter up in here.

And the truth is I AM that tree. I have known winter but now; now I choose to bloom in the sun.

Cold, Hard, Ugly Truth

So here it is, the cold, hard, ugly truth; the real reason I haven't felt like keeping up on my blog is I am afraid of being vulnerable. Somewhere along the way I distorted things in my head and began to feel like I could only write when I was feeling strong or when I had answers or insights that might help others. I had to be inspiring and I wasn't feeling inspired. The truth is I haven't felt strong in a very long time. I think I am more like my mom than I even realized. She was notorious for responding with, "I'm okay" when she really wasn't. In fact, if she said those words we knew she really wasn't. The truth is I'm not always okay and that is okay. The truth is I don't have all the answers or even a handful of them. The truth is my faith is being tested. The truth is I have good days and bad days. The truth is I still have breakdowns once in a while.

Today we sold my mom's house. I went to the title company and picked up a pen and signed my name in all the right places. Except, they weren't really the right places because I shouldn't have had to sign my name at all. Those documents shouldn't have even existed. A sign should never have been stuck in her yard. She should never have gotten sick. She should still be alive! I have had so many conflicting feelings as I process all of the changes that have taken place. I am still having trouble accepting her death. This is grief. These are the emotions people deal with after the funeral is over and everyone has gone home. Life goes on and we're expected to move on with it. I'm trying. Some days it's literally putting one foot in front of the other.

As quickly as negative thoughts come, they are replaced with thoughts of gratitude. "Thank you God for letting me care for her! Thank you God for letting her be my mother! Thank you God for her life and the impact it has had on mine." In the end the gratitude always wins out. I would go through all of the pain a thousand times over for the opportunity to serve her again! For me, love and gratitude will always conquer hate and pain. 

That being said, in the months following her death I have started 17 different blog posts attempting to express my feelings only to stop a few sentences in. Grief is complicated and I've been ashamed that I don't have it all together. "Where is my faith?", "Do I or do I not believe I'll see her again?", "How could God do this to our family?" "I have been doing all the right things, I am a good person and this is how God repays me?", "Haven't we suffered enough?", "Forget about me, how could God do this to my kids?" Even now knowing that these thoughts are a normal part of grief I still feel guilty for having thought them. I have screamed and cursed God's name more times than I care to admit as I wept in a blind rage that my mom, my best friend in the entire world was taken from me too soon. Then came the shame... I KNOW the truth! I have seen miracles firsthand in my life. I CANNOT deny God's existence nor His love for me and yet when my mom passed away I wondered why He didn't care about me. I wondered where He was when I needed Him. After all we had already lost this didn't feel like love. If He was real and could really see me than why did I continue to hurt so much? Why couldn't He throw me a bone and give me a break? I found myself feeling certain I could not write about these thoughts because they were too dark, too moody and who would they help? No, I would have to process the feelings of anger and abandonment silently and privately.

So why am I writing about those feelings now? I'm still not on the other side of this trial. I guess the answer is the same reason I started this blog in the very first place. I want to help someone, even if it's just one person. Hiding my true feelings and brushing them under the rug so that I appear like I'm doing okay doesn't help anybody. Life isn't a perfect package and grief isn't something we can orchestrate. I am making gains with my happiness. I feel myself slowly healing and progressing towards the happiness I know will be mine. Despite the sadness, I have never stopped laughing even when my heart feels heaviest. Most people around me probably had no idea how much I was hurting. I wasn't faking laughter or forcing happiness it just wasn't lasting joy. The moment I was alone with my thoughts I would feel depressed again. I know based on previous experience with losing my dad that one day I'll find that my heart feels light again and laughter fills my soul, not just the moment I'm in. I think I'm over the darkest part of it now, for the first time in a while I feel hope. I want to share that hope with others. I want those that are grieving and possibly thinking some of the same thoughts that I have felt so ashamed of to know that they are not alone! God hasn't abandoned us no matter how much it feels that way (more to come on this later). Today is an important step for me because I'm choosing to be open again, I'm choosing to be vulnerable. Today I choose to be honest and admit I still have fears and doubts. Ironically admitting those fears and doubts is precisely what makes me grow stronger and feel braver. Remembering that I have a Savior who atoned for my pain, my fear, and my shame is the first step to becoming fearless!

Working to Heal

17. That's how many blog posts I have started writing but haven't been able to finish. My heart has been changed in so many ways by this blog and by those who have read it. I truly believe if it weren't for some of my readers I wouldn't be where I am today. One reader in particular has anonymously given my family so much. It is because of her that I was even able to care for my mom the way I did and now attend nursing school. I have taken to calling her my guardian angel, you see she has been paying for childcare for my kids for about a year now. I don't even know her name and she volunteered to pay for childcare for my four kids! That's only one of the many generous things she has done and definitely a story that will be told sometime in the future.

With that being said, nursing school, my kids, my mom's affairs, and my grief have kept me plenty busy. My heart yearns to tell the world about the miracles I have seen, the love I've experienced, the service I've been extended, the healing powers of the Atonement and the grace of God. I know now is not that time. I am in a difficult phase of my life that requires more of me than I would like but because of the selfless love of the Savior I know that this will be just that, a phase. My heart will heal and I will see happier days. I WILL write again and when I do it will be beautiful, raw, emotional, and theraputic for me. Until that day comes I am going to put my all into being the very best mommy, sister, friend, niece, and student I can possibly be. I appreciate every single person reading this and encourage you to stay tuned. One day I will be back and it will be wonderful! I have experienced too much goodness to not share it. I sincerely love you all for allowing me to be vulnerable and for supporting me through some of the most difficult times in my life! Now it's time for me to heal and put in the work to create a beautiful life for myself and my precious babies.

Back to the Beginning

Tonight the rain is pouring outside my window while I'm tucked safely inside my cozy, little basement apartment. Tonight that same rain seems to be reflecting the feelings of my heart. The last few days my heart has been constantly weeping for the loss of my mom. I get up, get the kids to school, run my errands and do my daily tasks, pick up my kids and I smile and play with them, I tuck them in bed and kiss their sweet cheeks trying to soak in every ounce of their goodness and in return give them all of the love I have, and then the tears my heart has been silently crying all day are finally free to slide down my cheeks. Tonight it is time to write again. Tonight I am going to take it back to the beginning.... 

The cooler temperatures of the fall seem to be bringing back vivid memories to my mind. It was this time last year that I moved to Utah. I didn't know then that the months of September and October would be my last two months spent with my mom before she would become dependent on me. We spent those two months in the same manner that we usually spent time together. We were oblivious to the poison inside her body that would soon take her life. Ignorance was bliss.

There is one particular night in September that sticks out to me. Remember the lice my daughter had had the previous spring? Turns out she actually had SUPER lice! Apparently super lice cannot be killed with over-the-counter lice treatments. On this September evening I discovered that not only did she have it, but so did all of my boys! I was distraught. I could not do lice anymore. My mom and I took the boys out back and completely shaved off all their hair. We worked late into the night bagging up all of the pillows, washing the linens, vacuuming, and combing through hair. We decided we better check our own hair as well. My mom and I took turns combing through each other's hair using a fine tooth comb and a magnifying glass (keep in mind we both have very thick heads of hair). Any of you who have dealt with lice before will know what a painstakingly slow process it is to thoroughly check for lice. Seeing as it was now our third go around with lice in six months time (thank you super lice) my mom and I decided to also chemically treat our hair despite not seeing any sign of lice. We were determined to be done once and for all with all things lice! 2 a.m. rolls around and we are both sitting at the kitchen table with this gross chemical treatment in our hair. Out of nowhere I started to sob uncontrollably. Shocked my mom said, "Buggins, what's wrong?" (side note: we're a nickname family) I couldn't get the words to make sense I was crying so hard. I was trying to say, "I'm so tired of hard." It sounded so ridiculous and I felt like a child crying like that that I then began to laugh but I was also still crying. I was legitimately hard core crying and full on laughing at the same time. I have never experienced anything like it prior to that experience or in the days following. I felt like a full on lunatic. "I think you're having a nervous breakdown" was my mom's response through her own laughter. At two in the morning we were sitting at the kitchen table with gunk in our hair, simultaneously laughing and crying like babies who can't decide if they should laugh or cry, except that we were full grown adults. That is one thing I loved best about my mom, she was always a person I didn't have to be anything but me with. I could act like a crazy woman having a premature midlife crisis at 28 and she didn't care. She unconditionally embraced my crazy and always brought hers to the party. Somehow that terrible night has become a treasured and cherished memory. A memory of acceptance and love from a mother to a daughter. There are times I'd give anything to be back in that hard, uncomfortable, kitchen chair with smelly chemicals in my hair. 

The beginning of October I started taking a CNA course. Classes were from 9-2, Monday-Friday all month long. During this time my oldest two kids were in school but my youngest two were not. My mom had agreed to watch my little ones for the month. That month was a priceless treasure for my then four year old. He got so much more attention from grandma that he didn't normally get when the bigger kids were around. They spent many of those beautiful fall days going for walks. The baby has more energy than most people know what to do with and as the month of October progressed, my mom began to experience extreme fatigue. A lingering cough she had had since the spring began to worsen. When she was tired of chasing my youngest around she would buckle him in the stroller where he would be confined and my four year old would walk along beside her. Despite her exhaustion it was usually easier for her to manage a walk than chase the two year old around at home. She never let me know just how bad she was feeling but despite her best efforts to hide it I knew something was wrong. I felt guilty leaving her with my kids but she insisted and at that point there was only a couple more weeks left, therefore, daily walks with my boys became the norm. 

It was on these walks that my four year old formed a bond with her that is quite remarkable. Because of all of the changes from the divorce and the high demands placed on me, he was struggling a bit to be seen. The two of them would walk and talk. She would point out things about nature to him and before long he suggested they start saying prayers on their walks. This tickled her. He would say, "Grandma, Grandma stop we need to say another prayer". She would patiently stop and listen to him pray for his sister and then they'd walk a little further before he would ask her to stop again to pray for someone else. This went on and on the whole walk until he had stopped and said a prayer for every member of our family. My mom cherished these walks and I believe they were a small step in preparing her for what was to come. I know they were a huge step in healing my little boy's heart. 

One day I came home a bit early and discovered the house empty and the stroller gone. Knowing they must be on one of their walks I walked out front to wait for them. Sure enough there they were walking towards me on the other side of the street. My mom was pushing the baby, my four year old was walking eagerly beside her, and they were looking at each other discussing something with smiles on their faces. The sun shone perfectly behind them so that their silhouette's were crisply outlined against the sky. A gentle breeze scattered leaves along the road and ruffled my hair when I distinctly heard, "remember this moment" whispered in my mind. Time stood still for just a fleeting moment. I willed myself to soak it all in, to memorize the way they looked, the way I felt, the sound of their distant laughter, every single bit of it I tried to commit to memory. Tears sprang to my eyes and in that moment I knew....

That was the last walk she ever took with my boys. From that day on, deep in my soul I knew that the "lingering cough" would eventually take her life. The next time I came home from school she showed me her pillowcase. It was speckled with blood from coughing in the night. That was the beginning of the end of her mortal life. 

Not a day goes by that I don't miss her presence.

 Even though I love the changing leaves and crisp air, this fall has been painful for me because this year the changing leaves and crisp air acts like a trigger on a gun where the ammo is a bunch of bittersweet memories. Memories that I know I have to share, I have to let out somehow because if I keep them in I'll drown in them. Some of them are too painful to keep locked away, stuffed inside. Some of them are too beautiful to keep to myself. Grief is funny like that; pain and beauty intertwine until sometimes you don't know where the beauty stops and the pain begins. So like the trees in autumn I'm shedding my memories like falling leaves. Some of the leaves are ugly, dead, and brown, rotting on the ground. However, most of the leaves from my tree are vibrant oranges, reds, and golds; you see most of my memories are more beautiful than painful. To know my mom, to care for my mom, to love my mom and be loved by her in return, that is more beautiful than any autumn leaf! How fortunate that life is eternal and that like the tree that loses it's leaves every fall, new memories will come forth like fresh leaves growing in the spring!

                                                Treating her hair for lice. lol

                                              Grandma time with the little boys

                               

The Hospital

Yesterday afternoon I went back to the hospital I spent so much time at with my mom. Towards the end of her life she had a procedure done where they inserted a catheter into her left lung so we could drain the fluid more frequently at home which is called a thoracentesis. In order to do a thoracentesis you have to use a special lung drainage kit that is packaged so that each kit is completely sterile. The drainage bottles and kits are quite expensive. We had about ten of them left when she passed away and the company that manufactures them wouldn't refund them. I decided to take them to the hospital to donate them for other patients who couldn't afford them. I had been putting it off for days, knowing that returning to the hospital was going to be difficult for me emotionally.

As I pulled up to the hospital I turned down the music in my car and took some deep breaths. "It's okay, you're okay right now just get out of the car and go inside. You'll be fine."

 I forced myself to open the car door and cautiously got out as if I was expecting the grief to hit me with sudden force."Okay, so far so good." 

I opened the back of the mini van, grabbed the big box, and made my way towards the Cancer Center with the wind whipping my hair. As I approached the door I noticed a sweet looking older woman and we made small chat and then exchanged smiles when we parted from the elevator on the 2nd floor. "This is not bad. I can do this. No biggie."

 I made my way to the familiar oncologist's office hoping to leave the kits with the P.A. that had taken a particular interest in my mom and been so kind to us. I noticed a few nurses that I recognized and felt a small twinge of pain. The receptionist smiled in recognition when she saw me. It was a pity smile. I explained to her that I was hoping to see Heather and donate the drainage kits.

 "I'm sorry Heather is with a patient right now. I suggest you take the kits directly to the Heart and Lung Center. I'll tell her you said hello." 

I knew the Heart and Lung Center was where I logically should have gone in the first place but I wanted to thank the P.A. for her sweet card and face my fear of the Cancer Center. It felt like it was some right of passage in my grief process. 

Over the past nine months I had gotten to know the entire hospital fairly well so I took a short cut to the Heart and Lung Center. Again I made my way through the wind and as I passed people coming and going I wondered if they were curious what was in the box I was carrying. They couldn't possibly know how difficult carrying that box was or that every time I looked at one of the kits inside it my mind flashed to images of myself trying to calm and console my mom as I drained the fluid from her lung. They couldn't possibly know that the first time I saw blood in the fluid from her lung I silently panicked and had a meltdown when the home health nurse was not concerned. She knew what I was trying to deny. My mom was dying and she was dying soon; there was nothing to be done about the blood.

 I forced those memories and images from my mind and turned on the "numb switch". I decended the stairs into the Heart and Lung Center and approached the front desk. In one breath I spat out the following like a rehearsed line,  "my mom passed away and we had all of these lung drainage kits they're brand new and still completely sealed I know how expensive they are and thought some of your patients might be able to use them." The two receptionists just looked at me trying to process what I had just said then their faces softened and with great compassion one of them asked, "What was your mom's name?" Ouch! In my mind I was thinking, "her name IS Kathleen Ewell, not was". I knew she meant well, most people do, so I blew it off and told them her name. They exchanged a quick glance with each other and then looked back at me with tears in their eyes. "Yes, we remember her. We're so very sorry for your loss. Thank you for donating these kits. Somebody is going to be very grateful." I quietly responded, "It's what she would've wanted. She received some free samples from other patients as well. It's come full circle now." 

I don't remember saying bye to them, I hope I did. The next thing I remember I was practically running up the stairs trying to get out of there as fast as I could. "I shouldn't be here right now. This can't be real". When I got outside, memories of times spent with her in that very hospital came in a continuous stream. Her stroke, PET scans, CT scans, MRI's, when she was diagnosed, a class I took about chemotherapy, weekly appointments to check her INR, an endoscopy, radiation and chemotherapy treatments, a blood transfusion, and the final time she was admitted for severe confusion and hallucinations before they sent her home with home health, all came rushing back.

 I could see us sitting in the chemo room while she received an infusion of poison into her veins, my mom talking to everyone she sat by and wishing them luck. I could see myself rubbing her back, as we waited to be called back for her endoscopy. My mom was nauseous that day and curled up in a ball on the waiting room chairs. I could see my mom lying in her hospital bed telling us that she was forced to marry Osama Bin Ladin with terror in her eyes, fully convinced it was real. I could see my siblings and I eating together in the cafeteria discussing what should happen when she dies. I could see all of this and so much more as if I were out of my body, standing there watching it. 

My eyes began to fill with tears and depsite my best efforts to keep them in, they began to trickle down my cheeks. Finally I made it to my car, opened the door, sat down and promptly laid my forehead on the steering wheel and sobbed. I sat there in the hospital parking lot crying in my mini van for a few minutes before I felt her. 

Suddenly an indescribable peace came over me and I felt my mom's presence in the front passenger seat next to me. I didn't audibly hear her with my ears, nor did I see her with my physical eyes but I knew she was there and somehow she spoke these words to my heart, "It's okay baby, it's okay". Such a simple message but it was exactly the kind of thing she always said to comfort me in her physical body. Moms have a gift to calm our hearts without saying very much, at least mine does. She just lets me cry and allows me to feel how I feel, silently validating her unconditonal love for me. 

With that I sat up, dried my eyes, and turned the key in the ignition. Upon leaving the parking lot a contentment washed over me and the distinct thought came to me that I needed to share some more of my experiences caring for my mom on my blog. I don't know why. Perhaps, like with the experiences I shared about the abuse of my daughter and my divorce that followed, it is for me to heal more fully. Perhaps it can help someone, somewhere who has lost a loved one to cancer or is facing the ugly monster in the face right at this very moment. My hope is that they feel a little less alone and a little more understood. I don't fully understand the whole reason and maybe I never will. All I know is that the nine months I cared for my mom was life altering. It was simultaneously the hardest, most difficult thing I have ever done and the sweetest, most tender, and sacred thing I have ever experienced. It was nine months of my life that I look back on with no regrets. I learned all about a different, deeper kind of love. An eternal love that I could never have comprehended before. I thank you all in advance for allowing me to be vulnerable and share a very special piece of my heart; caring for my mom. 

Kathleen Abrams Ewell, A Believer

I'm not sure this post will make any sense. It is most likely going to be a jumbled mess of my thoughts and feelings. I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head and I know I just need to get them out somehow. I don't know how to write about such tender things while it is still so fresh but feel it is important to do so. I have written quite a bit in my journal but feel the need to share some of these thoughts with others. My mom was one of my biggest supporters of this blog and I know she would want me to share some of these things if it might benefit someone. I still feel so amazed and humbled that what I have to say makes a difference in the lives of others. I feel so normal, so ordinary, but perhaps that is where my power is. I can help others because I'm normal and ordinary and I have been blessed with the courage to share. So with a little apprehension I am once again going to be vulnerable and share with y'all another piece of my heart. I'm going to share some of my grief with you. I'm going to share one of the most valuable things to me with you, my mama.

On July 13th at 3:01 a.m. my dad came to take my sweet mama home and end her mortal suffering. It was a beautiful and tender blessing to hold her hand and feel her heart beat its last few beats. The love that was in that room with my siblings and I surrounding her bed as she left this life is something that cannot ever be described by words we have here in this life. Her nine month battle with stage 4 lung cancer tested and tried her to her limits in every way. Emotionally, spiritually, and physically she fought EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Some would say the cancer won, I have even said she lost her battle but as I look back now I realize I was wrong. Despite extreme pain and moments of doubt and fear she never lost her faith. She never lost who she was as a mother, a sister, a cousin, a grandma, a daughter of God. Her love and faith remained strong the whole way through. I call that a victory! Those who know my mama know she has always had a fierce determination to rise up and be counted as a believer. And that she did!

A week ago we held her funeral and put her body to rest next to my dads. The last week or so has been surreal. None of this feels like it really happened. Occasionally a memory will rush back to me and with it comes emotion, shock. This is reality. With that reality comes the impression that I need to share who my mom was and is. I need to share my testimony that she lives, that death is not the end! I need to share experiences that I've had that have taught me that although awful, bad things happen sometimes to good people, God is real. I have had so many special, sacred experiences these last nine months while caring for my mom. I know I need to write about some of them but I'm still trying to process and decipher what to share. Some things are too special to my siblings and I to ever share publicly.

Despite the pain I feel at the loss of her physical presence I feel a deep, intense peace inside my heart. Nearly every day of my life I have talked to my mom. She was my confidant, my counselor, my best friend. We would talk about a variety of things ranging from things as mundane as what we did that day to our deepest pains and heartfelt desires. Losing her is odd because the person who always helped me the most with this kind of thing was her. I would call her and cry and vent and cry some more. She always validated my feelings and knew exactly what to say to motivate and empower me. In fact, it was she who gave me the words: stronger, braver, fearless as my mantra! I find myself now in a position where I am once again at a crossroads. My whole life was about caring for my mom these last nine months and of course my kids as well. Now I have to create a new life for my kids and I. I don't know exactly what that looks like and that can be terrifying but I have an idea and hope for the future. I don't regret the decision to drop everything and care for her in the least. Besides my decision to become a mother, choosing to care for her was the best thing I have ever done!!! I have now experienced a different, deeper kind of love than I ever thought possible. I am grateful to have experienced that kind of sacred, selfless, eternal love! Every pain I feel at her loss is matched with an equal amount of gratitude. Gratitude for that time. I never in my wildest dreams envisioned myself being an "orphan" before I was thirty but I don't feel that way. I feel so grateful for the parents I have, for the time I had with each of them before they were called home. I have been blessed to have had noble and loving parents. With that gratitude comes peace, I feel their love every day of my life. They are still here with me, in all that I do. I read my moms journal this week and I realized that she also lives on in me. She gave me the best qualities about her. Because of her example I have her strength, her ability to love, her sense of humor, and an unwavering dedication to family and Heavenly Father. I don't necessarily think I'm amazing but she was and through her constant example she has given me the ability to develop those same qualities. They are in me and because of her I will rise up and be counted as she lives on through me. So even though I want to call her and ask for her advice, "What do I do next?", I know what she would say. "you can do hard things", "gird up your loins and fresh courage take", "the gospel isn't for wimps", "put one foot in front of the other", "move forward with faith", "I believe in you and you will rise up to meet what life has handed you", "just do this day", and most importantly, "I love you, you can do this!". Sometimes the grief and fear is debilitating but then I think about her life and the things she overcame and the words of advice she would have for me and I KNOW without a shadow of a doubt that although the road will be challenging and overwhelming at times, I will succeed!!! I will know true joy and happiness can be found even in the most difficult times. I choose light, I choose happy, I choose to believe, and I will rise!

Kathleen Abrams Ewell was a lot of things in this life: a daughter, a sister, an actress, a nurturer, a granddaughter, a cousin, a poetess, a teacher, a "ding-a-ling", a friend, a comedian, a devoted wife, a superb mother, and most importantly, she was a believer!

All That Matters

Many times I've sat down and attempted to write over the last couple of months and nothing seems to come out the way I want it to. My mom has fought long and hard to keep her cancer at bay and it has become evident the last couple of months that it's not a battle she is going to win. How do I accurately convey my life the last couple of months? How can I possibly describe the intensity of the love that I have felt? I can't. There are no words adequate enough to describe the ache I feel every time I see her wince with pain. There are no words that can describe the sorrow I feel when she looks at me with tears in her eyes because she doesn't know where she is. There are no words sufficient to explain how much it kills me to watch her suffer in so many ways and I can't take it away from her. It is the most heart wrenching thing I've ever experienced to watch her body slowly give up on her. To watch my vibrant, positive, active, strong mother become weak and helpless. So why do I do it? Why do I keep caring for her even though it's breaking my heart? Why did I decide to stay home and care for her full time when there is no paycheck? The answer is so simple; LOVE. It's all about love. Period. There are nights when I'm so emotionally and physically exhausted and the tears won't stop and I wish this wasn't real and there are nights when I'm scared to death of how much I'm going to miss her. Sometimes I think the pain is more than I can bear and then I remember that love is so much stronger than pain and fear. Love takes over and my personal concerns for myself don't seem to matter anymore. I look into her big blue eyes and I know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her. She is worth it! Then I feel the sweet love of our Savior, Heavenly Father, and Heavenly Mother and I know I will never regret loving her this way. There is no pain that can equal the love I feel. I am so grateful for that sweet love that reinforces my faith in life after death. There are so many family members and dear friends waiting with joyous anticipation to embrace my faithful mother and envelop her with their love. What a sweet reunion she will have! After all she has done for me, surely the least I could do is help her through this last difficult chapter of her life and get her home.

In my last post I wrote to my mom that her kids would love her through this horrific plague that is cancer. I haven't been able to write since then because we have been too busy loving her through it. Mom, you're almost done. You've lived a good life. You've taught us well. You have loved us unconditionally. We love you more than any words could ever possibly convey. Our love for you is deeper than this mortal life. Our love for you is eternal!

                                                    Loving Her Through It:

 

                                                 

         

The whole purpose, the reason for it all is love. It all comes back to love. That's what matters. 

Love You Through It : a Mother's Day message about unconditional love.

With Mother's Day quickly approaching my thoughts have been turned towards my own mother. Often when I think about her, words feel inadequate to explain the mother she is. From the time I was little I remember nothing but love and perhaps that is the greatest lesson she ever taught me, to love unconditionally.

In 2004 my dad passed away very suddenly and as I was the youngest, that left just her and I at home. To say that was a hard year and a strain on our relationship would be an understatement. We each grieved differently as our relationships with him were very different. I was a teenager about to start my final year of high school and a whole new phase of life. She was a woman about to be an empty nester and now a widow, which meant she would be completely alone. Our fears were great and there were a few occasions when we took those fears out on each other leaving us both with hurt feelings. What came after the hurt feelings is an important life lesson I'll never forget. After giving me some time alone my mom would always knock on my door, sit on my bed and apologize. "I'm sorry, I'm doing the best I can. Parents aren't perfect but I love you so much. Can you please forgive me?"

If only she knew then how much those words would help me when I became a mother! She taught me that it's okay to not be a perfect parent. That it's okay to be real with your kids. That we respect those that are honest with us about their shortcomings. That there is nothing that can't be mended by sincere humility and unconditional love. That all we are ever expected to do, is our personal best.

Over the years my mom has been there for me as I have parented my own children and she has continued to comfort and gently nurture me through some of the most difficult moments of my life. I am her caregiver now but a year ago she was mine. It wasn't that long ago that my world was falling apart and she was helping me pick up the pieces. She worked tirelessly to keep my house clean and help care for my kids while I handled legal issues and worked through my grief. Many mornings she let me sleep in and mope in bed as I mourned the end of my marriage and the horrible abuse my daughter endured. She was patient with me as I slowly began to heal and get stronger. Quite simply, she loved me through it. Now it is my turn to allow her to grieve and mourn the loss of her health while I take care of business. I see it not as a burden but a privilege, an honor. Unconditional love is serving one another through the trials and heartbreaks in life. She taught me that.

Mom, if you get a chance to read this, you need to know how much your kids love you. It is okay to not be the strong one taking care of us anymore. You have taught us everything we need to know. We know to trust in God because of you and that turning to Him is ALWAYS the answer. We know how to love both purely and unconditionally because of your example. Spending time with you and caring for you is a privilege for us all. You have been and are a noble mother! Your faith and love have sustained us and will continue to do so because yours is a love that will last for eternity! Enjoy your time and try not to stress about the magnitude of this trial as you face your cancer. You have never let us fall or left us alone in our times of need and we will not let you either. We've got your back mama. Quite simply, we will love you through it!

This Mother's Day I challenge all of you to think about your own mother's and the ways they "loved you through it" and as a mother myself, I know that sometimes we have a tendency to look inward and reflect on our own mothering skills and sometimes we are tempted to compare ourselves to other mothers we know. To that I challenge you to 1. Remember the love you have for your child is the MOST important part of being a mother! Nothing else we will ever do will even touch the love they feel from us. The pinterest worthy birthday parties and perfectly packed sack lunches don't matter if they don't feel our love. Loving them deeply and making sure they feel that love IS ENOUGH! 2. Love yourself through it. There is no such thing as a perfect parent!!! Be patient and kind with yourself. Repeat after me as I repeat after my mom : "I'm doing the best I can." No more comparisons. I know my mom sounds pretty amazing from all of the things I've written about her but even she forgot my brother's 7th birthday. ;) He still loves her and is a functioning happy adult (mostly hehe).

Let's make this Mother's Day about love, unconditional love. Not comparisons, feelings of inadequacy, guilt, or even anger. This Mother's Day lets focus on the positive, the happy, and loving ourselves and each other through the trials and heartbreaks of life.

Growing Pains

What a difference a year of "growing pains" can make! 

(Still awkward but so much cuter! haha)

8th grade versus 9th grade

When I was a kid, every once in a while, I would get this horrible pain in my legs. My mom always told me it was "growing pains" and she would usually give me a little medicine and send me to bed. In my eighth grade year I was one of the shortest girls in my choir class and by my ninth grade year I was one of the tallest. In just one year I had grown from shortest row to tallest row. What a difference a year of growing pains can make! Lately I find myself thinking often about emotional and spiritual growing pains. I seem to have established this pattern with God that usually entails a horribly hard phase where things seem to get worse and then BAM, the insights come all at once and I feel almost a constant flow of personal revelation.

A while ago I was definitely struggling. In fact, I had a full blown temper tantrum. I don't know quite what triggered it, I think it must have been time for me to grow. I was really suffering with feelings of loneliness and inadequacy. I literally threw myself on my bed and started punching the mattress all whilst sobbing and repeatedly uttering, "God you don't care about me!" Even in that moment I was fully aware that wasn't true but I was angry. How many times had I pleaded for some sign, some clear answer that I would have an eternal companion? How many nights had I knelt in prayer and said, "Thou knowest the desires of my heart and that they are pure and true and I want a husband for all of the right reasons. I know how to sacrifice and give and I know how to make a marriage work. Please grant me this true and good desire"? I was angry because my heart is particularly centered on love. I love others so easily. It is one of my gifts that Heavenly Father has given me but in that moment it felt more like a curse. I ached to love and nurture a companion. I was mad that He created me this way and was allowing me to suffer because of it. "If it isn't in my plan to get married the least you could do is take these feelings away from me!" I was mad that despite my anger and the depth of my pain I still could not deny my testimony and I was mad that I felt so much love for Heavenly Father, even in my anger, that I would do this all over again if that's what it took. Yep, I was a raving, bitter lunatic that night, truly I was. 

Somehow I managed to humble myself enough to kneel down and utter a more respectful prayer before going to bed. Although I was still angry and confused I at least managed to tone down the rage and speak to Heavenly Father like an adult. Almost immediately after praying and making the choice to LISTEN I received an answer. A prompting came to me to read out of a book I had received at Christmas time. It is a book that is compiled of short stories and testimonies from women to strengthen and motivate other women. It is called In His Hands, because it is short stories I haven't read it consistently. I have just picked it up, reading a story here and there. That particular night the story I opened up to was called, "Unfulfilled Expectations" by Camille Fronk Olson. She references Job 5:18  "For he maketh sore, and bindeth up: he woundeth, and his hands make whole". She goes on to discuss how, often, the Lord makes us exercise patience and she uses the example of barrenness in the scriptures. Sarah, Rebekah, and Rachel are all examples of women who experience barrenness. Women who were required to wait faithfully for the blessing of a child. The process of patiently waiting teaches us to trust in God with even more conviction. I didn't like this idea. Who does? I mean who wants to be patient? We live in a day and age where we want everything instantly. A popular country singer, Miranda Lambert, even has a song about it called, "Automatic". I am no exception, I loathe waiting. I have only been officially single for 6 months and alone only just over a year and you'd think I'd been single my whole life by some of my attitudes!

I pushed aside my negative feelings and went on to read my normal nightly scriptures. It just so happens I have been studying Job on and off for the past year and was in that exact chapter and read that exact scripture from the previously mentioned book for the second time that night! "Okay I get it" were my thoughts. I am struggling, I have been put in the fire to be refined. Now I need to trust in the Lord and He WILL make me whole.

The next few days I continued to struggle and waffle back and forth with this concept of trusting Him. On one such day my mom was actually having a hard time as well. Her and I were having a discussion about her mood and she was expressing to me that she had some fear about dying. I felt so overwhelmed in that moment. "How can I comfort her and calm her fears?" I silently prayed and began to share my testimony with her. Finally I began to cry with pain as I said to her, "Ultimately it doesn't matter what I believe. What do you believe? I can't give you my testimony on life after death no matter how hard I try, you have to find and know it for yourself. It pains me that I can't give you the comfort I feel. " I continued to tell her about a picture a friend of mine had shared on facebook a while back. The picture depicted a little girl holding tightly to her teddy bear with God kneeling in front of her asking her to give him her teddy bear. What the little girl couldn't see is that He had a much larger, better teddy bear behind His back. The captions says,"Just trust me". I told my mom I felt like the smaller teddy bear for her is her mortal life. She is clinging desperately to it and doesn't want to give it up but what she can't see is that there is a larger teddy bear for her that is eternal life. Then I asked her if she trusted Heavenly Father. I then challenged her to change her prayers from, "please let me live" to "help me to accept Thy will".

Later that night I was struggling again with loneliness and as I often do when I feel that way I drove up to the Draper temple to ponder and pray. Something about seeing the temple illuminated against a dark sky gives me so much hope. As I sat there in the parking lot the familiar question came to my mind, "Am I going to be alone forever?........... Or for a long time?" I began to cry and then like a bolt of lightening I realized what a hypocrite I was. I had asked my mom if she trusted God and I had challenged her to ask for acceptance of His will instead of her own desires and here I was NOT trusting God and absolutely asking for my own desires. Humbled I began to pray right then and there, "please help me to accept Thy will, help me to trust Thy plan for me". Within minutes the despair I felt melted away and comfort took its place. As I drove home a flood of truths came to me all at once.

 First, I realized that no matter what my life plan entailed I would always be happy as long as I continued to turn to the Savior. Despite my life circumstances and the occasional tantrum of loneliness I am pretty happy now. I feel pretty content most of the time. Why wouldn't I be happy even if I was single for the rest of my life? A plan unfolded to me of what single life could look like for me and I could picture myself successful and happy, full of the light of Christ and raising my kids in the gospel. Didn't I have great friends and family? Didn't I have a plan for a career I felt passionate about? Doesn't church bring me joy? Why wouldn't I be happy? If that's what Heavenly Father wanted for me, I could do it and I could do it well! Sure I would struggle from time to time just as I was now but I overall I would be happy!

The next truth that came to me was less of a general thought and more of a direct message from God. "I have spent the past year comforting you, healing you, teaching you eternal concepts, and molding you into the person I have always intended you to be. You weren't ready for a relationship and won't be until I know that you are committed to this person I created you to be. I need to know that you won't change for anyone. You don't need to do anything different to impress anyone and you certainly don't need to stifle yourself the way you have in the past for a relationship. Don't change or give any of this up just because you're lonely. I need you to be this person I created you to be!"

Another truth that came to me is how easy it is to look at someone else's trials and question why they don't have more faith. Why can't they get it? How easy it is to make these subtle judgments of others. I learned humility and even more compassion with our thoughts towards others is absolutely essential when serving them. When the trial is our own it is easy to see why it's so difficult. I apologized to my mom that night. Even though I hadn't been mean or harsh with her, I have no real comprehension for what she's experiencing and perhaps it was appropriate to share my testimony and convictions with her but I also needed to realize sometimes all that is needed is love. She has a testimony, and a strong one at that just as I do, but that doesn't mean we won't all question it from time to time with life's challenges. What's important is that we are slow to judge others who are struggling and quick to extend Christlike love and compassion.

Other even more personal and sacred truths were taught to me that night and continued coming over the course of the following week. I even received a remarkable and very detailed priesthood blessing from my home teacher! What happened to my heart that week was amazing. I had experienced spiritual and emotional growing pains and my heart has now been humbled and opened even more to the blessings of the spirit and Heavenly Father's love. I went from thinking only of myself and my wants to what does He want for me. I have centered myself and my desires with His will for me once again. How easy it is to forget His will for us and to think only of our own desires. I have again put my faith in Him and His plan for me and I DO trust Him!

It is my hope that if you are reading this and you too are struggling, that reading this will give you strength. You are not alone in your questions of doubt. You are not the only one who has wondered where God is and felt hopeless. You are not the only one who has prayed unceasingly for the righteous desires of your heart only to feel those prayers are unanswered at times. Please take heart and know that you are not alone now or ever. I promise if you will challenge yourself to accept God's will and put your trust in Him that you will feel the same comfort I did. I don't know when or how it will come to you but you will feel it. Sometimes the answers we receive aren't the ones we want to hear. As we sufficiently humble ourselves those answers do bring peace as we realize He has the master plan for our life and He will not let us end up unhappy when we seek to do His will. Like the growing pains that hurt me as a child that ultimately made my body stronger and better and made my body into the adult body it is supposed to be, spiritual growing pains can have that same effect. We will suffer and hurt for a period of time as we struggle to gain a deeper testimony of a particular virtue or concept but after the pain subsides our spirits are stronger and better and we are that much closer to the spiritual beings God created us to be.

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.