For Dustin

The hardest things for me to write about are the hard things. I can conjure up good and funny memories and write so seamlessly, but when I try to write about the hard times, the words just don't flow. I reread what I've written, and it just seems either empty or dramatic.

So hopefully this won't come out that way. I've been trying to get it down on paper for a very long time since it is a big part of my story. It hasn't come together very well in the past. But his has been on my mind a lot, as it is every year in October and November.

I want to be able to write about the accident that changed my life and helped me to ultimately find out that I have a Heavenly Father that knows me and loves me.

In October 2004 I was a senior in high school. I was excited about a lot of new things that were happening in my life. One night, I was getting ready to leave work when I had a strong impression to not take the freeway home. I was a little surprised at the force of what I was feeling, and then immediately wondered if the reason for that was to guide me to avoid an accident on the freeway.

As I was driving home on some side streets in the pouring rain, a car made a left turn in front of me and I was unable to stop. The roads were so wet, and there just wasn't enough time. I swerved hard but I knew there was no chance to avoid the accident. Fortunately, I was unhurt. I jumped out of my mangled minivan and ran across the road to help the people in the other car. Door panels were lying on the side of the road. I saw three teens in the car and recognized the driver as a classmate from my high school. A doctor who had stopped was trying to help the passenger in the backseat who was holding his head in his hands. Or that is how it appeared to me. After a flurry of police reports, ambulances, and shaky adrenalin-filled questions my parents and I headed home. I was told that the people in the other car had sustained minor injuries. When I got home I watched 90210. I remember feeling that everything was surreal. It was so odd to be sitting there doing something so mundane when something so important had just happened.

The next day at lunch my dad pulled me into his classroom (he was a seminary teacher at my school) and informed me that the boy in the backseat of the car had suffered serious injuries and would either be brain damaged, or he could possibly die. It took me awhile to process what he was saying. When the bell rang and the hallway cleared, the tears came and I lost it. A nice person offered me a ride home. I think those days were tortuous. Like there was this feeling of suffocation that nothing would shake.

A few days later Dustin passed away. He was an amazing violinist; his dad’s beloved son. I think about how hard that must have been for his family. I have an only son, and I can only imagine the heartbreak of losing a child. It was a very, very difficult time for them, as well as for the other teens that were in the car with him. I think about Dustin and the accident every day.

A lot of emotional days followed for everyone involved. I’m sure my struggles paled in comparison to the others. But even for me, there were lots of tears, rumors, stress, and struggling to understand the grief process. I had a hard time wanting to do anything when I got home from school except sleep. Finally my mom made a long list of things that we needed to do and she kept me busy checking all of those things: opening a checking account, getting my social security card, etc.

In mid-November (coincidentally it was fifteen years ago tonight) my fears and frustrations and feelings culminated in one miserable night. I felt so lonely, so unhappy. I didn't know anything anymore. Was there a Heavenly Father after all? Did any of the things I was doing matter? What was the purpose of all of this struggle and pain? It was honestly the hardest night of my life.

I was angry and feeling incredibly sorry for myself. And probably not in the right mindset to be receptive to the tender answer. But what I did get was a very direct challenge. I was basically told that I wasn't doing what I needed to be doing and that I needed to try harder if I wanted my questions answered.

The next day, I got a phone call from someone I had a big secret crush on. To this day, I think that phone call was a little blessing. The night before, I got the justice I deserved. Next, I got to experience a tender mercy. I felt that out of the blue, he blessed me with exactly what I needed: some fun and light-hearted friends that would distract me and get me through the next few months.

The following year the course of my life changed again when I took a semester abroad in Russia to teach English to pre-school aged kids. I had a lot of time on my hands. A lot of time to read the Book of Mormon, do tons of service, and focus on the gospel. I had a few unbelievable experiences there that really let me know that there were angels with me--I finally felt like I was doing what I needed to be doing and that felt good.

I learned a great lesson about Heavenly Father when I was in Russia that has stayed with me. When we taught English, we gave the kids little tokens when they used English correctly. It was an immersion program, and that was our way to reinforce what they were doing right so they would continue to do it. If we gave them a token when they said something incorrectly, it would confuse them and they wouldn't learn. I think Heavenly Father is like that too. When I'd been started my senior year of high school, I really wanted to gain a testimony and know for myself what was true, but I didn't put forth the effort necessary. I was extremely busy with work, school, extra curricular activities, etc. I slacked when it came to reading the scriptures. And reading the Book of Mormon is pretty much the foundation for gaining a testimony. So that was key, and I wasn't doing it. If Heavenly Father had rewarded me then, my growth and understanding of the gospel would have been stunted.

When I did finally read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover, and I prayed and asked if it was true, I didn't just get a warm feeling--I felt what it was to be in the Lord’s presence. There is nothing on Earth that compares with how I felt—it was concrete. I knew in that instant that he knew me, loved me, that I was on the right track, that he wanted to be with me again. And I knew why we go through so much pain and got a little glimpse of what is on the other side.

Motherhood Karma

Sometimes my kids do things that make me so stinking frustrated. Then in the midst of my anger, I realize that I did the same at their age. It is like all the Karma gods are laughing at me.

The other day I hauled a bag of rice down to the food storage closet in the basement and put it down a little too roughly and one of the seams ripped. Oh well--I put them in plastic pails anyway.

Along come my two youngest children. I see exactly what they are going to do as they are looking at the rice. I head them off with a stern "don't touch the rice!" I thought my scary voice would let them know how serious I was.

Didn't work. They dumped out the whole very large bag when I was upstairs, and proceeded to play in it--kinda like a sandbox. Sneaky boy blamed it all on Simone. "She said she was going to bite me if I didn't." Yeah right, the 25 lb two-year-old is not all that threatening these days.

I was so angry. I sent them both to their rooms. And just sat feeling sorry for myself and frustrated that my basement was covered in rice, regretting the next hour that would be spent trying to get it all up and my wasted $15.

But as I sat and explained to Jared how mad I was, a vision popped into my head. My two little sisters and me prying open cans of our mother's food storage wheat and putting our feet into the cans. Oh it felt so good! The sensory experience was wonderful. We pulled out handfuls of that wheat, and started throwing it everywhere. It was sprinkled on the lime green shag carpet remnants for months.

Then a few days after our basement had flooded, we went downstairs to find wheat growing in the light of one of the windows. The pale green shoots coming up in a thick rectangle. We laughed and thought that was so funny. And we never even got in trouble for it. I don't know who cleaned up the wheat grass.

I guess life has come full-circle and it was my turn to clean up the rice. Although I did make them help!

My middle child

I think my little Monet needs a little recognition. I feel like I post all about the younger kids because they are constantly changing. And with Elise being the oldest, things are new on that end too. Simone is the youngest, Miles is the boy, and Elise is the oldest. But Monet is the awesome middle child!

Monet is an amazing kid. She's got this little sponge of a brain that pretty much soaks up everything. But what is even more amazing about her is her eagerness to learn. She loves a challenge.

When she was two, I was taking a load of stuff to the D.I. In it was a toy with the alphabet letters on it. Monet played with that toy the whole trip there, and I decided that maybe we should keep it afterall. I'm glad I did. It totally taught her the alphabet and the sounds.

When she was nearly three, her grandpa challenged all the kids and grandkids to learn Helaman 5:12, and promised them all a chocolate bar if they could memorize this super long scripture.

So as I was trying to memorize it as I was cooking, I was saying the verses over and over, and suddenly here is little tiny Monet who can't say many of her consonants, and she has it all memorized with me.

She was very motivated by that "big, big chocolate bar!"

In Kindergarten, she acquired her first American Girl doll, Nicky. And because she had the doll, she felt she needed to read the book. So she read her first AG doll chapter book in Kindergarten. More recently, she's been flying through the Harry Potter books and keeps us updated regularly on which page she is on.

Her teachers are amazed with how quickly she catches on to things and retains the information she is learning.

Monet is super tough! She went out for a run with me one day and did three miles just like that. We did another mile for a family reunion, and her short little legs finished the race in eleven minutes or so. I thought that was great! We've started biking a lot more recently and Monet was keeping up with us on her little 16" bike she's had since she was three. She was pretty awesome because even without gears, she didn't want to stop on the huge hills.

Jared is coaching her basketball team this year. It is her first year and she is one of the smallest. But she is great at rebounding and she finds a way to get that ball away from the other team.

I love that Monet still really wants to sit by me and cuddle with me. When I was pregnant with Miles, she'd always lay on the couch with me when I wasn't feeling well. And when he was born, she had to reach up and hold his hand when I had him in the sling. She had a real need to touch him. Even when they were in the car, she'd figure out a way to hold onto his foot in the carseat. She was such a sweet sister. She loved to cuddle. I think I need to do a better job at remembering that just because she is older now and there are toddlers occupying my lap, she still needs some of that cuddling.

Simone's Sniffer

Simone has a great sense of smell. She loves to smell candles and will sit for literally an hour smelling all the candles at the store. We tried this once at the home show when we were waiting for Jared. She can last for a long time when she has something good to smell.

However, her sensitivity to smells can be a bit of a problem. At the Fourth of July, she had her first experience ever using the port-a-potties. My other kids thought of port-a-potties as really interesting and kinda fun. Simone's first reaction on entering was "it smell stinky in here!" And she refused to use it.

When she climbs into the car, one of her first statements is either, "it smell stinky in here!" or "MM, smell good."

And she complains like no other if someone has gas. She gets this fully disgusted look on her face, and usually takes out her anger on Miles.

So yesterday at Ikea, we were still back by all the plants and she said "I smell bread, and it smells good!" I couldn't smell anything and was wondering what in the world she was talking about. About twenty five yards later we turned the corner to the warehouse and I smelled their cinnamon buns. I was amazed that she could smell something so far off.