These Things Come in Threes

Looks like we'll have another funeral in the coming days.

Jay's dear grandma Faye passed away last night.

We knew it was coming, just not quite this soon.

She lived a good, long life.

I can imagine with joy the reunion she is having right now with her husband and daughters.

The last few years it was extremely difficult to watch as Alzheimer's disease set in.

She always thought her husband was just outside and that Jay's mom could not come visit becuase she had to stay in Ogden.

We stopped telling her over and over again that they had passed away years before.

Grandma lived in Idaho Falls, the last time we visited was in January.

She kept on asking where grandpa was, at one point she said, " Grandpa was just here, he's right behind me now, isn't he?"

While we couldn't see him, I wonder if he wasn't often there taking care of her.

She knew, she could feel his love.

I am thrilled they are together, what a sweet moment I wish I could witness.

This will make 3 funerals in 3 months in 3 different states, it feels like too much.

I feel this immense load of grief has just been dumped on our family.

I didn't feel like I had a chance to fully grieve Brad before the tragedy with Josh.

Josh took center stage and all the things I wanted to do for and with Brad's family got pushed to the back burner.

When the week of Josh's funeral was over it was hard to get back into life.

It's hard to explain, I didn't feel like myself.

I needed to do things, but really had to force myself just to get the bare essentials accomplished in the day.

That is not me.

Then I went to Lisa's house last week and walked into her bathroom, through her bedroom, to talk with her as she was finishing her makeup.

Brad was in the bed the last time I had seen him.

Those images filled my mind even though Lisa's bed was neatly made.

There were pictures of the two of them all around the room.

It was too much, I had to fight back the tears.

And the tears for Brad haven't stopped since.

They fall right along side the ones for Josh and now grandma Faye.

They just won't stop falling.

It's hard mourning for so many people at once.

From one minute to the next my mind goes around all their sweet memories.

And I'm mad that all we have left are memories and photographs.

Like really, really mad.

I wasn't ready for any of these loved ones to go, yet they did.

We had so much we still wanted to do with them.

Looks like it wasn't up to me, because if it were this is not what I would have chosen.

But I guess it's time to "cowboy up" yet again  and rejoice in another life well lived and trust in a God that knows more than I do.

He knew it was their time, even if I didn't agree.

So I will be content to trust in His wisdom and try not to cry so much and rejoice in a wonderful plan laid out by our Maker.

  "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

  A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

  A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

  A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. " 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I have had so much joy in my life, with these family members specifically.

The Lord says that time is over and now it's time to weep and mourn.

I look forward with faith the times of healing and laughter and dancing that are still ahead for me and my beautiful life, because it really is beautiful.

Part of me thinks I need just one more baby to counter all this death and dieing. 

What do you think? Sounds like a good idea to me!

 

 

The Airplane Miracle

The days following Josh's passing were nothing short of hellish.

The physical feelings were like nothing I'd ever experienced.

It ranged from sick to my stomach to boughts of uncontrollable sobbing.

Yet, there were plans to be made.

Josh lived here in Utah, just 2 or 3 miles up the road from our family, with his mom for most of his life.

About a year before he died, he went to Texas to live with his father in the same town I lived in until I was in 1st grade when my family moved to California.

That is where he was when he died.

His father began right away with funeral arrangements, so that meant there were lots and lots of family that needed to get to Texas, and fast.

The viewing was held just 3 days after he was found, then the funeral was the following morning. 

It all seems like a whirlwind.

Right away we got online looking for airline tickets, searching for the best deal.

The cheapest price we could find round trip was about $450.

That day was filled with millions of phone calls back and forth and coordinating, finding out who could go, who had to stay for school or work and figuring out the best way to get everyone there that need to get there.

I checked with pilot friends for buddy passes for my sister, but their airlines did not fly into Dallas/Fort Worth.

We tried a hundred different ways to find flights, to no avail.

In fact, that evening, my sister Elizabeth and her husband, Kerry's home teacher had stopped by their home out of the blue.

Elizabeth and Kerry told him of their nephew's passing and that we were trying to get flights for lots of family.

As that sweet home teacher left he offered a prayer and in it he specifically prayed that we would all be able to find affordable flights and that we would be looked after.

Little did we know that our connection to heaven would be better than any other connection we could find with all the people we knew.

Flights did not get booked that day, so the following morning  we got back online to book the flights.

Prices had skyrocketed overnight to about $750.

Regardless of the price we had to get them, there was no way any of us would have missed going for Joshy.

I was put in charge of getting tickets for myself and my other 3 sisters, all of our husbands had to stay with our kids and for work. There's no way we could have brought everyone that wanted to go.

Christine's family were getting their own and there were other family members who booked their own flights separately.

Christine's family had, by far, the most people to buy for. 

As I was online looking, Kerry called, he was looking for a deal, too.

Here we are talking and searching for any other deal we could find.

All the airlines were within a few dollars of each other, so we resigned to go ahead and buy the $750 tickets.

To ensure we were on the same flight, I would pay with my credit card and let everyone pay me back.

Just as I had put in the dates and how many tickets we wanted to purchase, Kerry shouts, "WAIT!"

He had found a deal on one of those flight booking websites, I believe it was cheapoair.com. 

The tickets were $325 each! Less than half of anywhere else.

The catch was that we couldn't pick our flights or even which airline, instead they gave us a window of time that our flights would be departing on the specified day as well as a window of time for our return flight.

And the window was not even bad, it was like between 9:00 am and 6:00 pm.

It wasn't even the red eye.

Plus, they both ended up being direct flights, NO LAYOVERS!

We quickly snatched up our tickets and were beyond thrilled with our deal. 

We were flying Delta and both of our flights left at totally doable times.

While I was waiting for the confirmation for our tickets Kerry grabbed another phone to call Jerry, Christine's husband.

Kerry got Jerry to the site where we had found our deal.

When Kerry called Jerry, he was on the computer at that very moment in the process of purchasing the $750 airline tickets for all the people he was trying to get to Texas.

He had already entered his credit card information and had hit 'submit'.

He was waiting for a confirmation number.

He quickly hit the power button on the computer, crashing it, hoping to cancel out that order before it charged his card.

It worked!

He then was able to purchase enough $325 tickets for everyone who needed to get to Texas, paying less than half, saving him literally thousands of dollars.

Wow, talk about an adrenaline rush. 

About an hour later Kerry decided that since the tickets were not as much as he had thought, that he might come along as well.

He got back on the site and entered the same search.

All the tickets were gone, the prices were back to $750.

Kerry decided to stay home after all, but content in the thought that we had witnessed a miracle.

Those tickets were there just long enough for all of us to get our tickets, it felt as thought the hand of God was directing us, guiding us and holding us in the tender palm of His hands.

Even in the middle of the worst tragedy I had ever felt, I felt the hand of God, His very love and care. 

"I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up."

D&C 84:88

What an amazing answer to that beautiful prayer.

Emotional Overload

I love my blog. I love that it is a way for me to record my feelings and my thoughts and my life.

I love writing, getting out the emotions that would otherwise be trapped and perhaps fester inside me. 

It's the cheapest form of therapy.

But sometimes things happen in life that are too difficult to process, let alone write about. 

Hence, my neglected blog. 

I have had several ideas and blog posts that seem to write themselves in my head, yet I feel hesitant to share, to let it out.

This winter has been difficult.

Lots of heartbreaks, too many to handle with the grace I'd like. 

I feel at a loss of words to express myself.

I like to be light and positive and think of my relationship with my Maker and the joy that brings to my life.

But right now, I'm dealing with some pretty heavy stuff.

Right now that relationship with God along with that of my amazing family are the only things getting me through.

About a month ago our family got some devastating news.

I had a restless night, sleep just would not come.

I found myself at 3:30 am as wide awake as a night owl, I had yet to even fall asleep.

I came downstairs to give Jay some peace from my tossing and turning and checked Facebook in the wee hours of the morning.

I noticed some alarming, but vague posts by 2 of my nieces directed to their brother, my nephew Josh, that were just alarming enough to make me worry.

I quickly sent each of them a private message asking what was up.

I stayed online a few minutes longer with no immediate reply from them, then decided to try sleep again.

The next morning after I dropped the kids off at school I hopped back on Facebook to see if there was any news.

This was my niece's reply:

 "Hes gone Sara, he died."

Immediate denial.

My eyes saw the words, yet my brain could not, would not comprehend them.

That was simply not possible.

He was not old, a mere 20, he was not sick. Just the opposite, in fact, he was in the prime of his life.

He had just started college and bought a car the week before.

The words simply did not compute.

I picked up the phone with my shaky hands and with a pit in my stomach, dialed my sister, his mother. 

My other nephew, Bradley answered the phone.

Brad is married and no longer lives there, yet here he was answering his mom's phone at 9 am when he should have been at work.

Clue #2, yet it still did not register.

The words came from my mouth, but I don't recall what they were, the conversation is a blur.

It was confirmed that Josh had indeed passed away sometime the previous night. 

Then there was screaming and crying and panic and shock and horror and gut wrenching physical pain, it was difficult to suck in air, I found myself hyperventilating, struggling to control my body. My arms and legs literally flailed about as I writhed in shock. 

It felt like my very spirit was struggling to be still, it did not want to be contained.

Then came the details involving a call to the suicide hot line, police notifying family of the call, an overnight search for him  and the shocking discovery in the early morning hours, just as daylight was breaking. 

The shock and horror were too much to bare. 

I have lost loved ones before, and not even that long ago, but this was by far the most shocking situation I had ever found myself in. 

My brain simply could not make sense of it.

How could this be real, and yet my head was telling me that it was.

I could go on and on about the next few days and weeks and all that has happened, and I likely will over the next little while simply so that I can process this in my way. 

For now I have a few predominate thoughts.

Suicide is one of those things you never think will touch your life, until it does.

For me it was more of a concept than any sort of reality.

I remember learning about the word in a vocabulary unit in high school. It was lumped with words like herbicide and genocide.

The thought that someone could or would end their own life had never even occurred to me.

But the idea of it seemed so far from anything anyone would ever really do that I really didn't give it much thought.

It feels different than losing someone  in other ways.

Maybe it's just the sheer fact that no one sees it coming.

Or maybe it's all the unanswered questions and guilt, that we perhaps could have done something to prevent this.

Did I mention the questions we will likely never have answers to until we leave this realm ourselves and see our beloved Josh again?

Then there's the stigma about it.

Like it's a taboo word and that there is shame in it.

A few days later I started having nightmares about it, which took me completely by surprise because I usually have quite pleasant dreams.

I don't fully understand why it feels so much more harsh, but it does.

All I know for sure is that I miss my Joshy.

I feel heartbroken that he was suffering enough to do this and I did not know, that none of us knew until it was too late.

I miss his little boy self with the white blond hair and the infectious smile and the one million questions a day.

I seriously have never met another little kid who asked as many questions as he did.

I miss his giant teddy bear hugs and how he loved the children.

I am sad that it had been so long since I had seen him.

I am sad I didn't get a proper goodbye.

Most of all I feel broken and tired and ready to get back to my life and my kids and away from this heartache. 

I know healing will come and that it's a process, I just wish I could fast forward through this part.

What I Know For Sure

I will be the first person to admit that I don't have all the answers.

I frequently question if I'm doing a good job at this thing called life.

I hope that I am.

I am beyond hesitant to even attempt this blog post, but given the circumstances, I can't help but feel compelled to. 

Last Friday same sex marriage was made legal in Utah by a federal judge.

I am a Mormon by faith, no secret there.

If you know anything about Mormonism, you know those two things don't mix.

It's like oil and water.

I believe in my faith, The Bible, The Book of Mormon and living prophets as much as I believe the sun will rise in the morning. 

It's a part of who I am, I truly believe I am who I am and where I am today because of my faith, it shaped my life and I live it as much as I possibly can.

If you know anything about how I grew up and my family circumstances you will believe me when I say my faith literally saved me.

I clung to it like a lifeline when everything else unraveled around me, it saved me from dark paths and bad choices.

I wish I could go into more detail about that, but this is not the post for that, maybe another time.

As much as I am Mormon, Mr Bird's sister is lesbian.

She and her partner have 2 beautiful sons.

Their lifestyle is just as much a part of their life as my Mormon faith is to mine.

They live it, they breath it, they love it.

They have been together since before Mr Bird and I even met, I don't even know for sure how long they've been together.

I do know their oldest son was 3 years old when I met the Weaver clan.

And can I say, he was absolutely the cutest little boy I had ever seen to that point.

 He literally captured my heart from day one.

He was always so happy and kind and giving.

And his eyes, they were to. die. for.

I could go on and on about him.

A few months before Beano was born they had another son.

Their second son is Beano's favorite cousin.

They are our favorite people to go camping with and to Bear Lake with and to have at Weaver Sunday.

So can you see my dilemma?

The dilemma the Weaver family has faced for over 15 years?

This week in particular I am feeling torn between my faith and this part of my amazing family whom I love dearly.

It feels as though a gaping whole has opened up and is dividing our family in two.

It breaks my heart and I have no idea what to do about it.

None of this changes how I feel about my family.

I still love them to pieces and would do anything for them.

With opposite views on this hot topic in this state it's easy to think that one of us is wrong.

One of us has to be wrong, and I honestly don't know which one of us it is.

I have not seen an angel or heard the voice of God telling me one way or the other, and as far as I know, neither have they.

I guess it's just one of those things we'll have to wait and ask when we stand before our maker when this life is over.

But for now we each think we are right, respectively.

So again, like so many times in my life I admit I don't have all the answers.

But here are a few things I do know for sure:

• God loves each and every one of us the same, no matter if you're black or white, rich or poor, Mormon or Jew or Muslim or lesbian or anything in between.
• I only pretend to know what I am doing most of the time.
• It is not my job to tell people what to do, I have a hard enough time deciding what I should do myself, let alone getting these 5 small people who call me mom to do what I tell them to do.
• I love chocolate so, so much and eat it anytime it's available to me. 
• I am not perfect, nor will I be in this life nor will any of you, so can we all just get on with the serious business of loving each other already?
• Christ is the answer, I have complete faith that He is the only one that can and will make sense out of this for us one day, and it will be all right.
• Every single person was placed on this earth with agency and the right to choose and to live the best life we can, the life that makes us happy. We answer to no one but God.
• My Mormon faith is my truth and makes me happy just as much as their life makes them happy and is their truth.
• I have no idea how those two things can both be truth, yet they do seem to be. Or  are they? I'm so confused.
• This life is short and we find happiness when we love one another and find ways to bridge the gap.
• I have enough of my own sins to worry about without worrying about if what someone else is doing is a sin or not.
• All we need is love, and chocolate. Every single person craves love and acceptance (and chocolate, unless you're one of the weird ones that doesn't).
• This is getting really cheesy, embrace the cheese.
• Being hurtful and judgmental and even having a greater than thou attitude are not attributes I want to have. 
• Family First, always and forever and no matter what!
• I can not stand the thought of having this issue divide our family or ruin future camping trips.
• I would do anything for my family, even attend a same sex marriage, because I love them and I know that that act speaks volumes of the love I have for them, I really would do anything for them.

Beautiful Burdens

Today is Winter Solstice. 

The shortest day of the year, and the first day of winter.

From here on out, slowly, the daylight will linger a little longer until eventually there will be enough sunlight to call the days Spring.

In Utah the winters are long and cold and stunning.

We had freezing rain the other day in the wee hours of the morning. 

By daylight the drops had turned to flakes which stuck, then froze fast to the ice encrusted world at our fingertips.

The result was nothing short of stunning, magical and breathtaking.

Every time I look outside this is what I see.

 I can not think of any thing more lovely for Christmas, which is just days away.

Talk about a Winter Wonderland, up close and in person.

But if you look closely at the trees you'll see something else.

Some of the branches are bending beneath the weight, literally breaking off and crashing to the ground.

A huge branch of one of the gnarled together bunch of trees at the end of our road broke beneath the heavy snow and ice, blocking the road for a short time.

Other branches on our tree lined road are hanging so low that our suburban hits them as we drive past.

How can something so beautiful be so heavy to bear?

This time of year, as we celebrate the birth of our Savior, and thus the putting into motion the grand plan of salvation God has in store for each of us and our families, I find myself asking the same question. 

His plan is simply stunning.

The love, the simplicity, the design.

To think He sent a Savior so that each of us could overcome sin and death takes my breath away.

I wonder that He suffered for me.

For my shortcomings and blatant sins, which are many.

For my heartbreaks.

At times I feel as though my heartstrings strain at the weight and are ready to snap, much like the fragile branches under the thick snow and ice.

A few short days ago my dear brother-in-law, Brad, lost his battle with cancer, and did he ever fight the good fight!

He never backed down, not for a second.

I still can hardly believe that such a mighty man as Brad can possibly be gone.

He is the newest angel in heaven, watching over his beloved wife and children and grandchildren.

He was too young to leave us this way.

How could he go with most of his grandchildren still unborn, one in the womb this very moment?

Then, a couple days ago was the anniversary of my mother-in-laws passing.

The sting of my children's sweet grandmother being taken is still so fresh.

It's been six years and their memories of her are beginning to fade, which absolutely crushes me.

The loss of my mother figure, my example of how to be a wife and make a marriage with a difficult man last, seemed more than I could hold.

My heart is broken.

I haven't made it thorough a day this season without the tears falling in torrents.

I seem to be going through the Christmas motions, mostly for the kids.

But along with the tears there is incredible joy and peace and gratefulness and beauty.

At times like these it's vital to think of God's beautiful, flawless plan.

Logically we know that death is a certain part of that plan, it simply would not work if none of us ever faced death.

I can't help see the beauty of it, as well as the burden of this life, which for those of us still here, must go on.

It's up to us now to square our shoulders and bear the weight of it all. 

But we need not bear it alone.

"Come unto me!" He said, "For my burden is easy and my yolk is light."

So here's to yet another Christmas season encrusted in sorrow and joy and beauty and life and grief and gratitude for a tiny babe born in a stable.

I wonder if Christmas would be so beautiful and meaningful without the depth and weight of all the sorrow and our absolute dependence on His Only Begotten Son.

Mini Me

Lately  M&M is Doodle's little shadow.

She loves her big sister so much and wants to be like her in every possible way.

As soon as Doodle gets home from school the two of them are stuck together at the hip.

I love watching the two of them together so, so much.

It does my mother heart good.

Doodle wanted a little sister for so long, and now she's finally big enough to play with.

Doodle will crochet leashes and attach them to her little sister and lead her all around the house.

And M&M just eats it up!

She becomes a doggie one minute and a horse the next.

Anything to have time with her big sister.

I think Doodle's really excited to start her own sister Saturday just as soon as the two of them are big enough.

It wouldn't surprise me if she started it the Saturday after she gets her driver's license!

Doodle has taken harp lessons for the last year and a half.

Just like everything else, M&M follows her to the harp as she practices.

She sits in on every lesson, most of the time on her teacher's lap.

Whenever Doodle leaves the harp uncovered M&M is right there, plucking the strings.

It's not long before Doodle or Mr Bird or I comes over and tells M&M not to touch the harp.

It is easily the most expensive thing in our home.

Our rule is that you have to take harp lessons in order to touch the harp.

Doodle is very protective of it and even gets upset if Mr Bird or I touch it.

Thant's one thing about harpists, to say they are protective of their instrument is a gross understatement.

They can become like a mother bear protecting their young.

So it was no surprise that when we went to play music at my sister in laws house one Sunday evening (her daughter, my niece, is Doodle's harp teacher) and they let M&M play the tiny harp she immediately became very protective.

Little man came over and sat next to her on the couch and the first thing she did was look him straight in the eye and with a glare that would stop a terrorist cold in his tracks said, "DON'T TOUCH MY HARP!" 

Ah, the sign of a true harpist!

Thanksgiving on Baker Street

It's this time of year I start to crave turkey.

I know Thanksgiving is close and the anticipation is killing me. 

I can almost see myself standing it the kitchen, pulling the first bit of turkey skin off the meat and watching the steam pour through the new opening in the bird.

Now that's Thanksgiving to me.

That and the bacon green beans my grandmother used to make and my sister-in-law, Laura's stuffing.

It's the best in the world.

And then there's the pumpkin pie, on Thanksgiving no other pie will do.

It's easy to associate Thanksgiving with the food, however, it's more about family and traditions.

 It's funny to see how these things have slowly changed over the last 15-20 years. 

When I was a child we spent every Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and birthday dinner at my grandmother's house.

All the cooking was done there in the small kitchen on Baker street.

We went over early to help.

I opened cans of olives, scrubbed and peeled potatoes and cut the ends off the fresh green beans.

I helped fill pies and washed mounds of dishes when the feast was done.

The holidays could not get any better.

Then, when I was in high school, my grandfather passed away too young for any of our liking and things slowly changed.

Grandma moved away from the little red brick house on Baker Street.

Then she remarried and Thanksgiving was never the same again.

The holidays were shared with her new husband's family. All the food was brought over, already prepared.

Then I finished school and got on with my life. 

I spend two Thanksgivings in Canada, away from family, where it is celebrated in October and is barely more than an afterthought.

Canadians don't make a huge deal about Thanksgiving like we do here in the states.

There, boxing day is more of a big deal than Thanksgiving.

I still have not spent another Thanksgiving in California or with my grandmother.

When I returned from Canada, I moved to Utah within a few short weeks.

A few months later I married a local whose roots are so deep here that we'll never leave. 

Before I knew it, I was spending my first Thanksgiving with my new family.

Those first few years were an adjustment for me, finding how I fit in this new family.

We had millions of small nieces and nephews and they were very loud.

Lots of laughter and babies crying and there was a general sense of contented chaos.

But it was not Baker Street.

Now all my sisters live close and we like to have Thanksgiving with my family, too, so we trade every other year.

I love it, but I hate it.

I want to have it all, Thanksgiving with the Angels AND Thanksgiving with the Weavers.

I want my angel mother-in-law there and my sweet, now very old grandmother.

I wish there were a way to meld the Thanksgivings of my childhood with the ones I share now with my own children.

I wouldn't trade the Thanksgiving traditions I have with my own family now, but I'd give almost anything in the world to have just one more Thanksgiving on Baker Street.