I'm with you...

I’ve been missing my nieces lately.  They live 2000 miles away and we haven’t seen them in three years.  And despite the modern age of technology that includes cell phones, texting, Facebook and Skype, I haven’t talked to them in about two years.

The sad part is that I’m really not sure why.  

I dreamed of the day that the girls would be teenagers, and I could be the confidante aunt that listened when you had problems with friends or school, and didn’t judge you.  The aunt that sent you little gifts just because, that came at precisely the right moment that you needed to feel loved and cherished.  That we would share secrets and they might call me in the middle of the day just because. 

When CJ was small, she knew exactly what our relationship was to be.  She was helping me put on my makeup, running the brush across her face and saying, “CJ will do it!”  

When I shared this with her dad, he corrected me.  “No, she says it, ‘CJ WILL do it’.”  

“Not with me,” I giggled.  “She doesn’t have to convince me…she knows that I will let her.”

Every time we got the chance to visit them (which was not nearly enough with my brother in the military), I would take lots of pictures and then create a themed scrapbook with the pictures.  One year, I made a book in which each page began with “At Aunt Jaycie’s house…”  Another year, I recorded a piece of advice for each picture.  

The next time that we got together, they would quote the books.  I went to visit them one year, and Allie apologized when I saw the tattered book from their last visit.  

“I’m sorry, Aunt Jaycie,” she said soberly.  “It’s getting ruined!”

I couldn’t have been more excited.  They were reading them.  They were memorizing them.  They were LOVING them.

It was those shared memories that kept us close.  We could laugh together about how their grandmother, my sweet mother…is the worst poor sport in the world.  You have to keep an eye on her, one would say, and then in unison, “Because SHE CHEATS!”

We would talk about how their dad flipped out when his he couldn’t get the film out to develop photos from when he proposed to their mother.  He ended up smashing the camera and the film on the back patio in frustration.

They loved to hear about how they used to tease Uncle Chops that they were “stinkin’ up his spot.”  That once, he took away Allie’s “buh uh gum” because she wouldn’t keep it in her mouth.  He held her over the garbage can until she spit it out, and she cried for an hour.  They promised to never be teenagers and ignore their adoring young cousins, like Tux did when he turned 13 and was too cool to be seen with them.  

We remembered making Fourth of July shirts together, Tie dyeing, and working on the roof of my parents house together.  Eating crab around the island in the kitchen, and the many nights watching Pokemon when Todd and I spent a week with them when their parents were out of town.  How the storm nearly drowned us at the park before we could get back to the van.  Eating Taco Bell and watching CJ cry when her cheese got spilled.  About how JJ kept telling me that I was mean.


The cool aunt train appeared to be going the right direction.

But then the phone calls got fewer and farther between.  They were more hurried.  And soon, calls were not answered.  No return call.  

CJ was nearing those teenage years, and I had hopes that even if her parents were too busy to keep in touch with us, that she and I could keep in touch via social media or her new cell phone.  I texted her one day, sitting in Taco Bell, and reminded her about the spilled cheese.  I told her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how I wished that she were at Taco Bell with me.  

I never heard from her.

Bro told me later that she had mentioned that I texted her.  But she didn’t text back.

I posted on her Facebook wall.  

She never replied.

Bro says that she isn’t your average teenager, and she isn’t into texting.  

I happened to catch Bro one day, and we had just a moment to talk. JJ was there, and Bro asked him if he wanted to talk to me.  He said "No, thank you."


 

I finally quit trying to contact them, because it broke my heart to be ignored.  

No one noticed.

I heard Avril Lavigne’s “I’m with You” on the radio today.  CJ loved that song when she was little, and we found it refreshing that she heard “DAMP cold night”, instead of the lyrics “damn cold night”.  

I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound

We’re also coming up on the Fourth of July holiday – a family favorite.  It reminded me of the time that we were coming home from the beach and a tiny CJ said from the back seat, “You love us, Aunt Jaycie, and when we’re not here, you miss us!”

I smiled at her and at Allie, whose big eyes were looking at me in the rearview mirror.  

“When you’re not here, I miss you all of the time.”

Just so you know…I still do. 

Is it over yet?

Is it over yet?  Can I open my eyes?

So swells the song by Kelly Clarkson, “Cry”. 

Is it over yet? 

Can I open my eyes? 

Is this as hard as it gets?

Is this what it feels like to really cry? 

A few years ago, I attended the State Wrestling Tournament.  The championship matches are intense, as they have come so far, and they are not going to give up now.  Some are seniors, their last chance at achieving greatness.  Some have had an undeafeated season, and don’t want their last and most important match to be the first that they lose.  The emotion is compelling, and it’s almost as entertaining to watch what happens off of the mat as it is to watch what happens on the mat.

Upsets are usually accompanied by jumps, flips, and sometimes even whooping.  Coaches slap one another on the back and wrestlers jump into their arms.   It’s enough to make your heart swell.  But remember, there are two competitors.  The losers show equal amounts of grief, anguish, and despair.  There are a few that behave like gentlemen and congratulate their opponent heartily, but not that many.  A few are downright angry and behave like children, hardly shaking hands with each other or the coaches.  Then, there is Starfish Man.

Starfish man was a tiny little guy, probably about a 125 pounder.  He finished his match, and with tears streaming down his face, he shook hands and walked off the mat with dignity.  And then he crumbled.  I mean, literally fell into a heap on the tarmac, just off of the mat.  He lay prostrate on the ground, pulling at the hair on both sides of his head.  His coaches bent to speak to him, but he didn’t move.   They patted him on the back, but he didn’t move.  They looked at one another and tried to lift him up, but he was dead weight.  They shrugged and just stood there by him until he composed himself and stood up.   It took quite some time for him to come to this point. 

I can identify with that.  In my depressed state of mind, I’ve always felt like I wanted to be a starfish, laying on a rock somewhere.  The water can wash over you, but it can’t move you.  You become one with your surroundings, so much so that you become…invisible.     I could just BE and let everything wash over and past me and I don’t even have to react to it.

I imagine that Starfish man felt the same way.  He was in a crowded stadium with no less than 20,000 people in it, but in that moment, he was all alone.  Face down, eyes squeezed shut, he  could imagine that no one could see him, no one could touch him.  He could let the hurt and anger and frustration just wash over him.

Being depressed becomes such a  great deal of work.  You fight to keep your head above water, you fight to maintain your dignity, you fight to keep the demons from closing in on you.  Your enemy is your own mind, and you cannot escape it.  I’ve envied starfish for so long.

Is it over yet?

Can I open my eyes?

Is this as hard as it gets?

Is this what it feels like to really cry?

The first time that I heard this song, I stopped dead in my tracks.  That’s exactly how I feel when I think that I can’t go on anymore!  When I’ve been battered by the waves for so long, and there’s no end in sight.  If I knew that daylight were just around the corner…if I knew that this was the worst of it…then I might be able to bear the unbearable.    

This past couple of days have been rough in our household.    We’ve had some standard family drama, with a bit of door slamming, raised voices, and emotional outbursts.  We’ve not had a great deal of this with the boys growing up, thankfully, but now that they are nearly grown, we’ve added girls to the mix.  Enough said?

Things were said that I’m sure that we don’t mean, not really.   In the heat of the moment, it is blurted out and then there’s no taking it back.  You can apologize, but the damage is done.  That kind of hurt takes a while to wash away.  The really difficult part is that in loving my children, in wanting the best for them, I fail.  It is the desire to make their lives perfect that exacerbates the situation and frustrates me.  Their inability to understand these actions and more importantly, their motives, often puts me in an adversarial position. 

One of my children has turned his back on me, and my heart is broken.  It might be for a day, for a week, or for years, I have no way of knowing.  Is it over yet?  Can I open my eyes?

I feel like I’m waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.  The fear creeps in.  The doubt.  The self-evaluation.  I should have, I could have.  I haven’t done enough.  I’ve done too much.   I begin to see so many other things that I have failed at.  My failure as a child to my parents.  My failure as a mother.  My failure as a wife, as a disciple of Christ, as a worker, as a friend, as a sister, a cousin, a .  They are all so connected, and when one thing falls, it brings the whole lot with it. 

I’ll give myself a few days to feel sorry, to worry, to feel helpless.  I might even lay down on the floor and pull my own hair.  Is this as hard as it gets?

And then…it will be time to get up off of the mat and leave the stadium.  You can’t be a starfish forever, and you can’t let the depression and cognitive dysfunction sweep you away.  What’s left?  Where do you go from there? 

I’m not sure yet.  I have no idea what the future holds for me and my child. I guess that is up to him.  It has definitely pointed out that we have some things to work on as a family.   Right now, it feels like everything is my fault, and everyone is placing the blame entirely on my shoulders.  Thanks to a great therapist, I know that is not true, and there are more personalities involved that need to share in the responsibility.  I know where I need to get to, I just don’t know how to get there. 

I have to let go with my little suckers, leave the rock, and just keep swimming. 

When words are not enough....

There’s a hurt from which I’m not sure that you can recover…I think that it cuts so deep that you will always feel the pain. It might be dull, it might be manageable, but it is always always there. Like the spot on my stomach that is tender to the touch, even 16 years after giving birth to Addy the Musician. I asked my doctor why it hurt so much, and he figures that there are stitches there from where he sewed the fat pad back in place. (the fact that I had a fat pad is almost as disturbing to me as the knowledge that he had it essentially off and then sewed it back on!) To this day, I can tell you where that spot is, because if I touch it just right, the scar is still there.

Of course, I’m talking about losing a child.

I cannot imagine losing a child and getting out of bed the next morning. A friend once pointed out that I would get out of bed because I still have other children, but I disagree. I would want to bring them all into my bed with me and protect them from the world.

I even dread my children leaving home. I know that it must happen, and that I cannot stop the hands of time. I just hope that when that day comes, I will be strong enough to survive. I love having my children in our home, and I think that I would love to have them and their families in a great big compound so that we can be together always.

This deep and abiding love was born the moment that I learned that Tux was going to be coming to our family. I was about 6 weeks along, and not yet feeling any morning sickness or discomfort. I began to feel some discomfort, and freaked out . I cried, I prayed, and I hoped. My doctor told me that it was merely my uterus growing rapidly that caused the discomfort, but I still worried.

I was anxious throughout my entire pregnancy with Addy. I don’t know why, but I had the idea that I was not going to get to keep this baby, and so I was worried to get too attached. Even driving to the hospital, I felt concern that I would not be bringing him home.

My worst fears came true when I found out that I was pregnant with Todd. I began to spot, then bleed, and then outright hemorrhage. I was on bedrest for two weeks as we waited to see if I would miscarry. It turned out that I had placenta previa, and it was the placenta attaching near my cervix that was causing the bleeding, but it was a nerve wracking two weeks.

I would sob every time I saw the bleeding that meant that I might be losing my baby. I begged my Heavenly Father to let me keep him. I had a priesthood blessing that said that this ‘surprise would bring great joy to my family.’ It didn’t promise a baby, but it was encouraging.

Hubby would tell me that it was okay, that I was probably worried about nothing. Well meaning people would tell me that it would be okay. But NO, it would not be okay. It would never be okay if I lost my baby. I talked with a cousin that had endured early pregnancy bleeding, and she, too, felt that no amount of encouragement could lift her spirits. Nothing that anyone said could take away the fear and pain.

This pregnancy was difficult all of the way through. I was on restrictions for most of the pregnancy, on bedrest at the end. Todd was ultimately premature. The fear never ended.

I have someone that I love very much who is struggling with this fear right now. I know that fear, I know that ache. I know that nothing that I can say will make it better, and that is heartbreaking. There is nothing to say, nothing to offer, other than the support that someone who has been through this can offer.

What I do know is that my children were my children from the moment that I learned that they existed. I don’t care how many cells they were, or how perfectly or rudimentally formed they were at the time. I got to see Todd in an ultrasound when he still had an egg sac, and he was still my baby. I could see his tiny heart beat, and he was a person to me. I would have grieved their loss the same whether I was barely pregnant or had raised them. The hurt would be the same.

Another cousin recently lost a baby at 19 weeks gestation. The hospital that she gave birth at was incredibly loving and allowed the parents time with their baby, giving him little clothing and blankets and letting them say goodbye. What compassion they showed to a family that had lost a member, when often, it is considered merely a miscarriage, and not a lost life.

For this reason, I could never choose to terminate a pregnancy for any reason. Nor could I participate in IVF, where multiple eggs are fertilized and frozen. I would have to carry each of them, like Octomom, or allow them to be adopted. I could not destroy even that early stage of life.

When I was carrying the older boys, I wondered when their little spirits entered their body. Tux was insanely active in utero. He bounced off of the walls the entire time. We fought over my ribs, he teased. He rarely slept or rested.

This is exactly Tux’s personality, even now.

Along came Addy, who was more laid back. Once a day, he would slowly roll over in my stomach, barely making a ripple. No fights over vital organs and who should or should not be stepping on them. No stretches that made me want to gasp as my bones were pushed apart with great force. And true to this, Addy is my more laid back child. He sleeps more, is less wild and active, and generally acts exactly as he did before his birth.

Todd is much like Tux, wild and crazy and active. Both in, and out. You cannot convince me that their spirits are not with them right from the beginning.

To anyone who has ever lost a child, whether that child was full grown, or barely bigger than a dot, my heart goes out to you. To even breathe after such a loss is commendable. I wish that there were something that I could say to make the hurt go away, to ease it even slightly. All I can offer is my love and support, and that is not enough, I know.

We always wonder where the lesson is in each life trial. For some, we may never know. We just have to have faith and continue to trust in our Heavenly Father. He will keep us and comfort us, and use each experience for our own good. We can’t let it shake our faith or keep us from loving again.

To my sweet loved one that is suffering, I wish that I could take some of the burden. My arms are around you always. I wish that I had more to offer.

I’ve always believed in the power of words, but at this time, they seem all but powerless.

Come what may and LOVE it.

In October of 2008, I heard a talk at the General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints that made me laugh and touched my soul at the same time. At the time, we had no idea that it would be the last Conference address given by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin. He was a frail old man, hardly even able to speak, and he gave his talk from a sitting position. His body was frail, but his words were powerful.

His theme was “Come what may, and love it”. The concept is easy enough to understand…when life hands us lemons, we must make lemonade. We must learn to love the things that are thrown at us, and not let adversity destroy us. It’s an excellent talk, and one that I recommend that everyone read, regardless of your faith or denomination.

At the time, it was easy to see the message implied. I had recently been unemployed, and life was looking pretty bleak. We had lost half of our income, my self-esteem, and many of my friends in the process. I understood and tried to apply his advice, I really did. That path was longer and more winding than I had hoped, but I finally got to the point where I loved the situation that I was in.

Now we are on the other side. But you know what? His advice still applies! He said come what may…and that means in adversity, but also in our successes. Change in our lives is inevitable, and even if it is a good change, it’s a change that causes stress for us.

I have been so busy lately that I can hardly keep up. I have two clients that I work with that are requiring a great deal of time right now. They were freelance projects that I was working on during the time that I was looking for work, and for businesses and business owners that I respect very much.

I also had the chance to take engagement pictures for a friend’s son. Not only was it something that I wanted to do for my friend, but it was a fantastic opportunity to build my photography portfolio and I couldn’t pass it up. They were both photogenic and easy to work with, and I had a great time getting to know them. This meant an hour or so taking the pictures, and then a few hours editing and perfecting the photos. I suppose if I were a better photographer, I could have sped that process up, but I wanted them to be nice and so I spent a bit of time on them.

As all of these incredible opportunities presented themselves just as I received a job offer. Again, it was something that I just couldn’t pass up, a job that I had been waiting for. I started last Thursday, and hit the ground running. I am working 40+ hours a week and running all of those. It requires a bit of brain power, as well as some physical running (it’s a large office), both of which I’ve not had to do for months. I have worked from home for years, and was always able to adjust my schedule to fit my life. Not so with this new job, which requires regular office hours onsite. That’s not a bad thing at all, merely a big change for me.

And I still have the side jobs that need my attention and deserve it. I will not let them down just because ‘something better came along.’

Crazy times.

I’m also feeling sad that I am leaving Todd. We have been together now for over three years. He’s been my buddy, my sidekick, my every minute. He is my last child, and we have had an amazing three years together as homebodies. It would be easy to be bummed over the whole thing.

I’m not bummed. I am grateful for these blessings, even if the Lord has chosen to pour them all upon me at once. He waited until I had healed, until I was ready to handle the stress. I thank Him for that great mercy.

I will follow Elder Wirthlin’s advice. When I am stressed and have no time to myself for a few weeks, I’ll be glad that I have good work and an income to help my family. When I am away from my children and missing them, I will make the most of my time away. I won’t bemoan our separation; I will rejoice in the adult time that it gives me, and the self-esteem that it is restoring. I will learn everything that I can, I will accomplish all that I can, I will make my employer as successful as I can.

At the end of the day, I will go home and love my babies.

We don’t know what the next day might bring. It may bring unemployment again…with the economy as it is, there are no guarantees. Now I know that is not the worst thing that can happen, though, and I know that I can not only survive, I can THRIVE.

In my current work state, I am busy and sometimes need five minutes just to do what I want to do. (Which is usually working my farm in Farm Town) But I can not only survive this wild time, I can THRIVE.

That’s what Elder Wirthlin was referring to. Not just “endure to the end”, which is good advice…but come what may and LOVE it. Embrace it. Don’t just survive. And never, ever wish away the time that is now.

When life gives you lemons....

She planned the party carefully. It had to be perfect…she was hosting the event of the year. Celebrating her newfound freedom, she wanted to make sure that it was both festive and fun, as well as fruitful for attendees and hostess alike.

She pressed her dress, laid it out on the bed the night before. The morning would come too soon, and she wanted to be ready. Her guests would be arriving promptly at 10AM, and she would need to be on the top of her game. The lemonade was chilling in the refrigerator already.

When morning came, she loaded box after box into the front yard, arranging them just so. When the finishing touches were done, she took the invitations…signs, as it were…and drove to the nearest intersections to post them.

“New-Husband-Ditched-Me Garage Sale”, they boasted. She had to admit, they were brightly colored and would surely generate attention. If not for the cheery colors, they might intrigue passers by with the honesty of her signs.

Then, returning home, she donned the wedding dress, carefully pinning a “for sale” tag on the lapel. With a grin and a deep breath, she was ready.

The day was a huge success, as she greeted her patrons and guests with ice cold lemonade…an homage to the old adage that when life gives you lemons…you make lemonade. Her wedding dress, now a mockery of the short marriage, was almost fun to wear in this instance. It certainly gave her plenty to talk about! Her wares were fascinating, especially when the guests noticed that HIS things were for sale across the yard – far, far away from the things that she was selling. She would reap the rewards of the things that he left behind, but they would not be allowed to mingle with her things.

Hubby attended her sale, and laughed as he recounted her careful preparations and forethought. Surely, the most memorable garage sale that he had ever attended.

Think of our little bride next time life gives YOU lemons. Don’t just make lemonade…throw a party. Laugh about your situation. Sell the stuff that offends you.

Living well is the best revenge, don’t you think?!

Stop Worrying about the Sequins!

Some years back, Mom and I were working on costumes for our local Junior Miss Program. Budgets were tight, but we wanted to make a splash, so it always required some creative costuming, and this year was one of our better ones. The girls would be wearing black leggings and black t-shirts, over which different layers were added to make two very different costumes for the production number and then for Fitness.

The production number was to Debbie Gibson’s “Electric Youth”, and it was going to be stunning! To really make it glitzy, we went for sequin-embellished tops. In order to accommodate our budget we did this by gluing sequins on to mesh netting, which would be worn over their black t-shirts. A good swath…or rather, starburst…of glue was laid down, and then we used tweezers to lay out fuchsia sequins. It was tedious, but we only had about 10 of them to do, and we could laugh and visit while we made them.

Mom, however, was getting frustrated. She would lay out her sequins, and then when they dried, she would find some that fell off. She’d lay it out again, put on more glue, and put down the sequins. And of course, more would fall off when she picked it up the next time. I was finishing three to her one.

I kept trying to explain to her that individual sequins didn’t matter, it was the overall effect that we were going for. Having been in charge of costumes for years, I had learned that you didn’t have to make it picture perfect up close, so long as the end product was pleasing on stage. (Honestly, I used Saran Wrap as big wide bow belts one year!)

Still, she muttered and puttered until I finally got irritated.

“Stop worrying about the sequins, woman!” I reminded her. “Do you really think that the audience is going to notice a few dropped sequins from off of the stage?”

In truth, you couldn’t even tell that there were any sequins missing if you stood back a foot or two. You could be missing 25 or 30 sequins, for that matter, but the effect was still the same as if we had spent days sewing on each tiny little glittery speck. There was an acceptable level of loss, given the circumstances. It was a costume. It was meant to last five minutes on stage, and it didn’t have to be perfect.

She was not convinced, at first, but agreed to stop focusing on each sequin. We finally completed the tops and were ready for the big night.

Some days later, we were talking about another issue that had come up in our lives, and she had an epiphany. The ‘sequin rule’ applied in that instance, too! She had been worrying so much about a singular subject that she neglected to step back and look at the big picture. In the grand scheme of things, the problem was minor – a few dropped sequins. It didn’t ruin the pattern of her life, however, and therefore…she needed to just stop worrying about the small stuff.

From that day forth, she catches herself as she gets caught in one of those situations, and she’ll laugh and say, “I’m worrying about the sequins again, aren’t I?”

How many times have we focused on one little sequin, while losing sight of the glorious masterpiece that we are creating in our lives? Have we spent too much time on little details that will be lost in the long run? Kept ourselves from progressing because we were trying to put back every little thing that fell out of place, when it really didn’t affect our eternal salvation? What more could we achieve if we could look at our work, be satisfied with what we have accomplished, and then move on to bigger and better things? Do we really need to control everything so tightly that we cannot lift our heads to enjoy the complete work?

Tonight, I was talking with a friend about the injustices that some endure here on earth. She was trying to understand WHY. The only thing that I could say was that sometimes, we have to go through trials to learn something, or to grow in some way. But I also believe that sometimes, we suffer in order to help another to learn something. When you look at it that way, it makes these things easier to bear. If, in the end, we have helped another along the path, then our own tiny bit of suffering – for that is what it is in the eternal scheme of things – is worth it. We will have lost a single sequin, for the sake of a grand production.

Our costumes were dazzling, by the way, and the production was perfect. The tops were cast aside, never to be worn again, and not a single person commented on any missing sequins. Life is good.

My one good poem

Things are crazy right now, and I haven't had a moment to write this weekend! So I'll leave you with a poem that I wrote when I was a teenager. Prophetic, of sorts, as it describes my life as a adult, and the process of losing your humanity when others disappoint and abandon you.

"A Paper Heart of Deepest Red
Fell upon the floor...
...and bled

It's sides were ragged, ripped and torn
It's center sagging, sad and worn
And then that little paper heart
began to shred and fall apart
No one saw it's final show
No one saw it's lifeline go...

...it laid upon the cold, stone floor
for hours, days, or maybe more
'til someone came and swept it away.

That's why I have no heart today"

The reason that I recite it now is that I'm no longer that little paper heart. I'm not even shredded or ragged. I've found that you can actually CHOOSE to let go, and to move on. I have a heart...and though there are those in my past that will never be allowed to touch it again, I am open to new relationships. I'm not even angry anymore, because it just doesn't matter. I don't have to be the product of what has been dealt to me, and I don't have to take it out on the people that I meet, just because I've been hurt before.

Sure, my heart was swept up and thrown away, but I've found a new one!

Losing a Child

My thoughts keep turning back to the Borovec twins, the headstone that we found at the graveyard cleanup project, and discussed in "When Pigs Fly". My sweet cousin found their death records, and we discovered that they died of “gastroenteritis”, a digestive issue of some sort.

How sad to think that they were unable to help them; this is something that with today’s technology and knowledge, they could certainly manage in any hospital. In 1917, it was another story. I know from my readings about the Flu Epidemic that doctors were not very well trained at that time, and had very limited resources anyway. Not much was really known about the body and it’s systems, and those who knew were generally not doctors. Did you know that back then, you didn’t have to graduate from any medical school, or even prove your competence? Truly a scary time to be sick!

It is apparent that it was either environmental or contagious, as both twins were affected. Was it something that they ate that caused gastric distress? Food practices also being suspect at the time, it may be that they ate something that they simply could not deal with as tiny boys, only three years old. (The age of TODDler!) Their parents may have eaten the same thing, and not been affected at all. Or was it a bug?

I of course think of their mother, who likely cared for them and watched them go, five days apart. To lose first one, and then, still grieving that loss, to lose the second. I cannot even imagine her pain.

Being a mother is the most important thing in my life, and I am dreading the day that my children move out…I can’t stand the thought of losing them in any other way. When I found out that we would be having Todd, it was a total surprise. An unplanned pregnancy. (considered as an ‘unwanted pregnancy’ by government agencies who track this sort of thing, but I assure you that unwanted and unplanned are two entirely different things!)

At 7.5 weeks, I began to hemorrhage. This carried on for days, and my doctor had no explanation. He told me that if I was miscarrying, there was nothing that he could do to save my baby. I remember sitting in his office, sobbing to his nurse. I was already committed to and loved this child more than anything. I couldn’t imagine losing him, even though he was something that we had not planned for.

Thankfully, it turned out to be a case of Placenta Previa, easily overcome and everything was fine. When he was delivered at 33.5 weeks, we worried again about losing him, but were spared any further concern, as he was healthy and hearty.

Being in NICU made you realize how very blessed you were. Babies all around us were struggling, having heart issues, breathing issues, and there was always the threat of losing one of them. I saw a note on the cart that they use to take baby photos with, indicating that if the staff was taking ‘bereavement photos’, to be sure to get the parent’s permission, signed. It reminded me that not all of the babies that I saw each day would go home. Even with today’s medicine, we still lose babies. Life is fragile.

My cousin lost a little baby, born too soon. He was so early that there was really nothing that they could do to help him. In years past, they called it a miscarriage, and treated it as such. At 17 weeks gestation, however, he was fully formed and beautiful. They were fortunate to have delivered in a hospital that allowed them to hold him, to love him, and to celebrate his very, very short life. They buried him in a ceremony sponsored by the hospital, and he has a tiny grave and everything. He lived. He deserves to be remembered. My cousin still misses him, even though she knows that she will see him again. She keeps his memory alive with her remaining children, and looks forward to the day that she will hold him forever.

It really doesn’t matter at what point you lose your child…you just shouldn’t have to deal with that.

I had an ancestor that delivered some 15 children, and only about 5 of them lived beyond the age of 10. Times were much harder, and accidents were frequent with the type of lives that they lead. To bury one child would devastate me. I suppose you would have to become somewhat hardened against the loss, having buried 10.

When Tux was a little boy, I had to take him to the oral surgeon to have some teeth removed. They allowed me to hold him as they gave him the sedative, as he was highly agitated. Whatever they gave him began to work almost immediately, as his little eyes glazed over and began to twitch a bit. Then he just relaxed in my arms and closed his eyes.

I burst into tears.

Not only was this hard for me to see, but a young boy in our ward had recently died, and I know his mother well. She had stayed with his body until they came to remove the organs that he would be donating, then held him as they took him off of life support and let him return home to his Heavenly Father.

All of this came back to me as I held Tux, knowing that in a short period of time, he would awaken and I would have him to hold. This Sister had to hold her son, knowing that he was leaving her. Through my tears, I tried to explain this to the surgeon, who was rethinking the wisdom of allowing a mother to see her child sedated.

We just don’t know how lucky we are, to have healthy children. It’s something to remind ourselves of every day, so that we don’t take our time with them for granted. Tonight, I am giving my boys an extra hug and kiss. Maybe two, one for each of the Borovec twins.

Don't get your panties in a wad...

When I was a teenager, one of my cousins wrote back to me about not having written sooner…”Don’t get your panties in a wad, I’m working on it!” It cracked me up.

Tonight, I heard one better. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot; It solves nothing and makes you walk funny.”

Of course, as a teenager, I was just tickled that a Mormon relative of mine was talking about panties, to begin with, and that was enough to make me giggle all day. I could picture it, quite literally, and the idea of my panties in a wad made me right uncomfortable, I must say.

I have a broader perspective now, as time, experience and AGE seem to do to us. I know that not only is it uncomfortable to have bunchy panties, but that no one seems to know your suffering except for you. I mean, truly, think of the last time that you wore bad underwear. Drove you crazy all day long, and no one noticed, right? Except for the little dances that you did to try to get it to lay correctly, and the sidesteps into private places so that you could pull it where it needed to be?

The term “panties in a wad” or “knickers in a knot” refers to being upset or mad about something…and it’s the same scenario. Often, we feel the discomfort of being upset, but everyone else is oblivious. So who are we hurting, besides ourselves? NO ONE.

Too many times, we let ourselves get worked up over things that really don’t matter in the big picture, or are so far out of our control that we need to just accept it and move on. Today’s example is the video of President Obama swatting a fly. I cannot believe all of the airtime that it has gotten, with folks who are amazed at his cat-like reflexes, or the ones who are all up in arms because he killed a fly. It was a FLY, folks, and people swat them all of the time. Nothing amazing happened here, nothing tragic happened here. Let’s save our outrage for something really important.

I once had a friend that was upset with her father for remarrying. She didn’t like the new stepmother, and even if she had, she simply did not want to accept the situation. I kept telling her that she needed to let it go, and just learn to get along. Not for the stepmother’s sake, who really couldn’t care less about what my friend thought. But because in the long run, the only one that it hurt was my friend. She was alienated from her father, and disappointed all of the time with their relationship.

I know this first hand, as well. I apparently don’t practice what I preach! I was walking around, carrying anger and resentment as if it belonged to me. The folks that deserved it didn’t even KNOW…and wouldn’t care even if they did…so it was only making me miserable. The day that I decided that I just didn’t care anymore was like buying brand new undergarments. They were no longer constrictive or ill fitting, and I was able to walk upright for the first time in months. I feel so much better, having thrown out those nasty panties.

Which leads to another great saying, “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.” Also some great advice.

BTW, Toddler decided that he was a comedian tonight, so he tells me, “Mom, do you want me to tell you a joke?”

When I said yes, he says, “Okay, I’ll say ‘broarkejbasdfahjkhpatriotadjjhblkjtrz’ and then you laugh.” He gets into a stand up comedian kind of pose, and then says, “broarkejbasdfahjkhpatriotadjjhblkjtrz” and stares at me.

Kid needs a laugh track.

Sometimes, the answer is NO

This picture breaks my heart…it was taken at the exact moment that Tux realized that he would never compete at the state level in wrestling. He had wrestled throughout junior high and high school, worked hard, pushed himself…but it was not to be. It was something that I knew that he wanted very much, and at this moment, it had become out of the question.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. He knew more about wrestling than many of his contemporaries, as my dad has been a wrestling coach for nearly 30 years and often works with the boys. It was all there, and yet, success seemed to be elusive for him.

His freshman year was particularly difficult, as he had a coach that only believed in winning. He pushed the kids until they nearly broke, lavishing praise on the ones that won, and ignoring those that did not. I thought that he might give it up at one point, and I was devastated to think that a coach could make it so hard on them.

He got all of the bad breaks…state champion competing in his weight class, difficult brackets, it just seemed that he could never catch a break. Year after year, we prayed that he would find his niche and excel.

He didn’t go without success, as he placed in many tournaments, as high as second place. That was an incredible tournament! He had struggled all that year (his junior year), and was frustrated and down on himself. He was upset that we were even attending this tournament, which was for much larger schools and a tough tournament for a small school like ours. He kicked some butt, though, and when he won the match that put him in the finals, I nearly deafened everyone in the building. No one was near me, so I just screamed. I was so happy for him!

He finished out that year with more medals, although he didn’t get past the regional level. We thought that perhaps his senior year would be the one.

We were wrong. His senior year was as difficult as ever, as he faced opponents that were just that much better than him, or caught the lucky breaks. He wrestled against kids that wrestle year round in Freestyle Tournaments. It was never an easy path for him, but he kept going.

We learned valuable lessons along the way. Sometimes, the answer is no...no matter how much we want something, no matter how much we pray, no matter how hard we work...we are unable to achieve the thing that we are striving for. It hurts, it’s confusing, and it both discourages and frustrates us beyond comprehension.

If it were up to me, he would have been State Champion. I felt that he deserved it! He had worked SOOOO hard, and he wanted it so much.

We kept telling him that there were plenty of other wrestlers that were having the same issues. Not everyone competes at State…not everyone realizes their dreams along the way. But even though we can tell ourselves that we have it better than some...how can it make us hurt less to know that someone else hurts more???

We think that we know what we need. We feel like it is something that we simply cannot live without. But we can...and we will. The Lord has a much larger view, and He knows what is best for us now, and what is best for us in the long run. That is why sometimes, He says NO.

I’m sure that it hurts Him as much as it hurts us, especially when it is something like this. I know that it hurts me as much as it hurt Tux, because I am his mother and I love him and want everything for him. I know how hard he had tried and how much he sacrificed, and I would move heaven and earth to give him a State Medal. UNLESS...I knew that this would not be the best for him in the long run...and so, I have to trust that Heavenly Father is taking care of things, and that He has our best interests at heart. I can trust Him in this. But I still would like to understand WHY some day!

I am incredibly proud of him for all that he accomplished. In wrestling, as well as in life. He persevered even when it wasn’t easy; a most admirable trait in anyone. He didn’t quit, He didn’t turn on his teammates or coaches, he never wavered in your dedication to wrestling.
THIS is what he will take away – not the accolades or medals. In the long run, this is much more valuable.

As heartbreaking as this moment was, it was also a victory of sorts. He proved that no matter what happened, He was the man. He wouldn’t give up. He wouldn’t back down from the challenge, and he proved that he was stronger than anything that was thrown at him.

He’ll always be a hero in my eyes!

It's the Climb

"There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb"

I’ll admit it…I’m a Miley Cyrus admirer. Not the kind that would camp out for tickets or anything, but she’s a cute girl with a lot of talent. We gained a great appreciation for the Disney Channel when I was in the hospital with the baby, and Hannah Montana was one of our favorite shows. (even the big boys!)

When I heard this song on the radio, I loved it. It is so apt…there will always be a mountain to climb, whether it’s a struggle or trial that we are experiencing, or simply the long difficult road to where we want to be. And we almost always want the mountain to just MOVE. Wouldn’t life be a lot easier if the mountains just jumped out of the way, or flattened themselves for our benefit?

But that’s not how mountains work. It would make the road much easier, but there would be nothing to see from what used to be the top. We’d still be right where we started, having gained nothing and without the lessons learned along the way.

This is my anthem today. On this day after Tuxedo Boy made me SO proud, I am feeling more blessed than ever before. I have made such tremendous progress with the depression and my self-esteem in the last few weeks. I visited with my counselor today and was telling her how excited I was that I had reached a place where I was feeling good, and confident. She was thrilled. And then she noted that this would be our last session, as she is going on an extended trip overseas.

I had known this when I contacted her. She is hoping to retire, and with this trip on the horizon, wasn’t taking on new patients. Somehow, though, she agreed to see me on a short term basis. I assured her that I was highly motivated to get better, and that I would fast track things.

I had no idea how quickly this would happen, or how good I would feel at this point. And frankly, I had all but put this deadline out of my mind. It was a tearful goodbye, and I cried for a long while after leaving her office.

Unlike the tears that I shed after our first session, these were tears of joy and gratitude. I would miss her and I would certainly miss her perceptions, but I am so incredibly thankful that I had this time with her. I know…I KNOW…that she was an answer to my prayers. I know that I was sent to her at just this time. I know that the progress we made was because there were three of us working on the issues.

I feel the presence of my Heavenly Father so near to me today. I feel His love and concern for me, and I can see His hand at work in the world around me. I see things falling into place everywhere that I look. I hear His voice telling me that things can happen for good…now that I am ready. I just had to get to where I needed to be in order for Him to start the processes that will help me to build the life that I want. I needed some time to process what had happened to me. I needed time to distance myself from the forces that were dragging me down. I needed some perspective.

Sadly, we will not always make it to the summit. There are times that we fall short of the goal, or are distracted from the path. Sometimes, we have to lose, or else the winning would not be so sweet. I wondered, this time, if I would be able to find my way up.

I was being hard on myself because months had gone by, and my outlook had not improved. My counselor assured me that it takes time to heal, and that we cannot expect ourselves to beat the depression overnight. “It ain’t about how fast I get there….”

I still do not know exactly what my life will look like a year from now. I just know that I can make the journey as long as I know that I am not alone. “It ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side…” I am just so thrilled to have survived this first leg of the journey, and to be ready to head into the next.

I want to remember this moment, the one in which I have reached the summit and am feeling strong and triumphant. I want to remember the view from the top, so that I can remind myself of what I’m working for if I ever find myself at the base of a mountain again. I can assure you that the vista before me is the most spectacular sight that I have seen in a long time. I can’t wait to get going.

See you on the other side!

Letting go is a major theme!

I was looking through years of photos recently, and came across the picture of these shoes. They were my favorite shoes for such a long time! They were easy to slip on and off, comfortable, and because they were white, matched everything. This is actually the second pair, as the first became so dilapidated that I had to throw them out…but not before I had found an adequate replacement.

Actually, I had to resort to extreme measures to get rid of that first pair. I just could not part with them to save my soul. They were ratty looking and a filthy that even bleach and detergent could not correct. I had worn them so much and in wet and warm temperatures, and they didn’t smell very well. But I loved them! Every time I tried to throw them away, I would immediately fish them out of the garbage for “one last wear”. I finally put them in the garbage one day and then left the house. I called my husband to make sure that he would dump the garbage and take the temptation away from me!

Eventually, this second pair met the same death. I think this time, I left them in a hotel garbage, knowing that I could not go back to get them.

First of all, I’m a cheapskate. I love a good deal, and I will make something last forever just to make sure that I get my money’s worth. I rarely own more than five pairs of shoes at one time, because I am so practical; one set of black heels, one pair of black flats, tennis shoes, one pair of light colored heels, and something that I can slip on in a hurry. With these five, I can pretty much cover any outfit that I might wear, and I just can’t bring myself to buy cute shoes for every outfit.

I’m also hesitant about change, because with change, there is the possibility that I will not be as happy with it as if I had stayed with my original option. I get attached to things and people easily, and it’s hard to break that attachment. I actually miss those shoes, even now, and it’s been years. Which is one of the thinking patterns that I need to break. I hold on to things (as previously discussed, like grudges) even when they are not good for me. My poor white shoes, for instance, that were stinky! I knew that they were stinky, and I sprayed them and washed them and all of that to try to get rid of the smell, but they were still stinky. Even so, I was comfortable in them, and I couldn’t bring myself to just throw them away. I keep clothes that don’t fit or are ugly, because I might need them someday. I keep odd things because they are sentimental or might be used in a craft project. Every so often, I have to purge my stash, just to keep my home from being overrun. I have to take full advantage of those moods, because it’s the only time that I can get rid of things and not feel bad the whole time!

I know that this is what happened in my last job. It had become something that I wasn’t benefitting from, and might even be hurting me. Yet, I could not let go because letting go was scarier than facing the facts.

I held on to the friends that I had because they were my friends. Even when it became apparent that they were not making me feel good about myself, or supporting me in the good things that I did. I held on to them because I was afraid of not having any friends. I held on too long, and it made the separation that much more painful, because I had let them hurt me before I walked away. I should have stepped back when things were still good, so that I was able to say goodbye without the anger and resentment.

I love the email that circulates that talks about friends being there for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Sometimes, people come in to our lives for a reason. It might be fleeting, and when they have served their purpose, they move out of our orbit. Other times, they are there for quite a season before falling out. Some friends will be there for a lifetime. I just haven’t figured out how to use this in my life. I keep trying to hold folks close when they are past their time -- their expiration date, if you will! I don’t want things to change, I just want to add to my life. But that’s impossible; one cannot continue to add people to their lives and never change their roles. My counselor says that I miss them because I haven’t replaced those spots in my life, and she is right. I’m working on that. We do need to maintain a certain number of people in our lives, or we will be lonely and isolated.

This doesn’t change the importance of those people in my life at the time that they were supposed to be there. I had some wonderful times with them, I learned from them, and I value the memories that I have. I’ll keep the memories. But the old shoes have got to go!

Living with a Mission

I tried for years to define my “Mission Statement”, a personal document that helps you to outline your purpose in life, so that you can better align your daily activities with what you want to achieve. It’s part of the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R Covey, which I highly recommend as “must read”. I really struggled with it, though, because I couldn’t quite narrow it down the way that I wanted it to read.

Dr. Covey’s website offered a mission statement generator at one point, which asked you a series of questions. You took the one word answers from those questions and formulated a sentence that described how that should be a part of your life. It sounds complicated, but it was really easy to use and the first time through, I came up with what was the perfect Mission Statement. It integrated all that you valued, and I was so pleased with the results!

This is what I came up with:
• I will live my life so that others can trust me.
• I will raise children that can stand on their own and serve others with compassion.
• I will create a family environment that is encouraging, respectful, and spotlights the value of each individual.
• I will strive to live my life so that I may always feel free to run in the rain, laugh with abandon, and take chances when appropriate.
• I will be true and dependable to those around me.
• I will center my life on the Gospel, so that others may see the light that illuminates my world.
• I will embrace others and help them to see the world as a place with endless possibility, and that one has never gone too far to turn back.
• I will have respect for others and expect their respect, as well.
• I will make all decisions and seek the guidance of my Heavenly Father in all things, thanking Him for the blessings that I already receive.
• I will seek to make the world a better place.

I’ve been through a lot since then. I often feel like an entirely different person; but as I re-read my mission statement recently, I felt the familiar comfort of a pair of well-worn jeans. It still fit perfectly.

I’ve wavered in the implementation of my statement, to be sure. I think that the most poignant diversion was to the idea that I will respect others, and expect their respect, as well. I let that one slide, until even I had no respect for me. I’m gaining that back, little by little. But what matters is that my GOAL is still the same, even if I got a little lost along the way.

That is why it is so important to have such a statement, so that once in awhile, you can evaluate where you are headed, and if your daily activities accurately reflect the things that you most value. For instance, if you value time with your family, but are spending your days in search of money…that’s going to create a discord in your life. I think that when we live in harmony with the goals that we have set for ourselves, we are most happy. I know that I am.

The first line is fascinating, in retrospect. Trust was something that became scarce in the world that I lived in recently. I found myself in the middle of the storm, and I’m sure that I deviated from that value. I truly want, however, to be someone that can be trusted.

Let’s take Survivor, for a moment. (timely, as JT Thomas was crowned the winner just last night for Survivor: Tocantins) You often hear them describe their behavior on Survivor by saying, “It’s just a game…that is not how I am in real life.” I beg to differ. I saw more Survivor type tactics in the workplace than I can ever describe, and I think that any time you have a situation in which one person can benefit from deceiving or cutting down another, you will have that sort of behavior. This completely goes against my personal ethics, and I know that I could never play such a game. I would be devastated by the time I left the tribe.

More importantly, it would put me in a position in which it would be advantageous for me to break my first and most basic value: to be someone that can be trusted. I saw this unfold as Survivor: Tocantins wrapped up. JT and Coach, specifically, wanted to play the game with integrity. While all around them, others were saying that you HAD to lie and cheat in Survivor, they maintained their integrity. (Coach is another discussion entirely, and in his defense, I believe that HE believes everything that he said.) JT had the decision at the end to choose to take Erinn to the finals, whom he felt he could easily beat, or Stephen, who was a wild card. At least in JT’s mind.

The fact that JT received EVERY vote last night says much for the idea that you do not HAVE to lie in the game. JT managed to keep his word, as evidenced when Coach was voted out. JT had promised not to oust him; although JT knew that it was coming, he personally did not write down Coach’s name. It wasn’t a cop out. He was playing the game, but in the most honest way that he could. His one moment of questionable ethics arose when Taj was voted off. I think that he instantly regretted it, but it was too late to take it back. A good lesson for us all – one small step off of the path can be irreversible, no matter how much it hurts us or those we love in the long run. No matter how sorry we are.

Debbie, on the other hand, commented in the reunion show that the students at the middle school at which she is a principal ‘knew that she would have to lie’ in the game. WHAT?!! How can she feel that this is acceptable under any circumstances? I completely disagree, obviously, and was disappointed in her behavior.

I’m not commenting on this to be negative, but to illustrate how we think as individuals. I know that I could not be happy in an environment that encouraged me to be at odds with my core values. I believe that my job had taken that path. I was becoming increasingly agitated and felt less confident in myself. I wasn’t happy. But it was a job, and my family has a habit of eating, so I kept at it.

Had I not been laid off with budget cuts, I would still be slogging along. I know that I would not have taken that leap to rid myself of a toxic atmosphere. My Heavenly Father knew that, and I think that this layoff was a means to an end. It hurt, but in the end, I knew that was what He wanted for me.

I felt this reaffirmed as I read my Mission Statement. It doesn’t necessarily make the struggles any less real, but it does soothe my soul to know that my eternal progress is so much more important than whether or not we have money to spare.

A new job will come along, or we will find a way to live on what we have. Either way, I will follow the spirit to find the right place for me. A place where I can live in accord with the principles that are most important to me.

Do you have a personal Mission Statement? Have you been able to identify the things that will keep you well and happy? Try the Franklin Covey Mission Statement Generator…it’s quick and easy, and I think that you will be surprised with what you come up with.

And do share, if you feel comfortable doing so! We can all use a little help from our friends!

LOST much?

I took the night off last night to watch the season finale of LOST. First of all, I must admit that I hated to watch it, because it means that I have months to wait for another installment! This show is amazing on so many levels. Not only the science fiction aspect, the religious references, the themes, but most of all, the character development.

I have always been fascinated with the stories behind the stories, and LOST gave me just that. In flashbacks, flash forwards, and odd dropped in scenes, we were able to see what brought each of the survivors to this point, and what made them who they are today. It added such depth to the idea that each of them was LOST, not only physically, but emotionally and socially, as well.

Through the five years thus far, we have come to understand and love each of the characters, flawed as they are. We identify with their pain, their failures. But to see them grow and develop in a society that was stressful and life threatening at every turn – that was fascinating. Each of them had grown in many ways, and had found themselves in the process of finding their way back to civilization.

Watching the finale brought up a dilemma that I think deserves a bit of pondering. I had spoken with a friend earlier in the day, who mentioned the theory that LOST will end with Flight 815 landing safely in LA as it should have five years ago. I was very disgruntled at this idea, but until we talked, I hadn’t put my finger on why.

It is the growth of the characters, how far they have come. To have it all end happily means that everything that they learned along the way is now LOST. This was reinforced during the scene with Jack and Sawyer. Sawyer did not want Jack to “correct” the future, as it would erase all of the good that he had experienced since he landed on the island. It would take away the happiness and normalcy that he had gained with the Dharma group. This had been sorely lacking before he came to the island. At the moment that he landed on the island, he had anger issues, was a con-man by profession, had just killed an innocent man, and had never had a meaningful relationship in his life. At the end of the 3+ years on the island, he had a good life with Juliette, a good job, and people that he enjoyed being with. He had truly become a community member.


Correcting the future means that this would never have happened. He reminds Jack that if the correction is successful, Jack and Kate will have never met. While Jack seems determined to erase the difficulties, Sawyer is trying to hold on to the joy. Then he asks, “What do you want, Jack?”

Good question. What do you want? We do not ask ourselves this question often enough. We get so busy being busy, spinning our wheels without regard to the direction that our lives have taken, that we forget to course correct. And how do you know which way to go? What do you want? Have you stopped to see if your current movements are taking you closer to that goal?

It reminds me of a list of abstract questions that we used to use when I was a member of the hiring staff at the company that I worked for. We would ask a series of odd questions, nothing related to the job itself, because it revealed more of the values and attitudes of the candidate than the standard job related questions did.

The one question that came to mind was this: “If you could live for one year in complete bliss, everything absolutely perfect – but at the end of the year you would return to your former life with no memory of the year of happiness – would you do it?”

Answers were all over the board, but the one that I found the most compelling was a woman who said that she would not be interested in this scenario. She said that she wouldn’t want to give up a year of her life, even if she enjoyed it at the time. She valued the memories and the personal growth that one experiences in a year’s time.

My personal answer was that I would take it unequivocably – but also thinking that somehow, some way, I would remember it even if they tried to take it from me!

So here’s the question of the day…would you trade in all of the things that you have learned in exchange for losing all of the pain and struggle of your life? Would you want to go back and do it again, without the trials? (which, in the case of the LOST survivors, meant polar bears on a tropical island, a smoke monster that judges you, and whispering trees, but that is another point altogether!)

It is so tempting to hand over those difficulties, I must admit! I have often thought that I would like a nice, peaceful, boring life. But the truth is, I wouldn’t want that. I have learned so much along the way, things that have taught me what is important in life, and what to focus on. I would have none of the joy of having defeated my personal dragons. Happy little ruts cease to be happy when there is no sorrow mixed in. They become mundane.

And each of my trials has prepared me for a bigger trial, which I was able to withstand because of the strength that I had gained in the smaller struggle. Things that would have overwhelmed and broken me if I had not had the experience to prepare me. Eventually, we will all experience some major life changing event, and we need to build up our reserve by regularly exercising our will and determination.

The second half of that thought is that we become too content to be mediocre, when we could be great. We would never make the decision to bring hardship upon ourselves, but these are the moments when we see most clearly, and that help us to redefine who we are and where we are going.

We are left hanging as to the success or failure of Jack’s efforts. We do not know if the future has been ‘corrected’, or if Jack merely did what he had done the first time around, that caused the chain of events in the first place. And we have months before we find out.

But in the meanwhile, I’m going to hope that he failed in his quest to save them from crashing on the island. I think that a little bit of LOST is a good thing, especially when it helps you find yourself.