Sunday, July 30, 2017

"My Hands Are Holding You"



I went many years before I would tell this story to anyone for this reason:  Embarrassment over a temper tantrum I threw that ended in a very personal experience between me and Heavenly Father.  This is something that happened almost eight years ago. I started feeling prompted to share it a couple of times starting about four years ago, and for the last few months I have felt I should write about this experience in my blog so I am finally doing it.  To be honest, I felt like I was finished with my blog.  The purpose for it was to help me heal and be whole again through writing out the pain and the blessings I experienced.  What I feel now compared to how I felt when I started this blog is such amazing change.  I am starting to recognize myself again.  There were so many years I didn’t even recognize myself because of the heavy weight of the relentless burdens I felt.  But I’m finding that, valiant, righteous woman again.  For many years I would read through my old journals and I would notice what a better person I was before the severe experiences of life.  They had really taken their toll. 

A month or two before I found out I was expecting Abby, Parker started violently screaming every time something happened he didn’t like or if he had to go through a transition.  I wrote about this in greater detail in an earlier post but it was a very exhausting and depressing experience for me.   During this time for a few weeks I just didn’t feel right.  I told Brent I wanted to get a pregnancy test while we were in town.  He was convinced it wasn’t possible for me to be pregnant.  It took four years for me to get pregnant with Parker and Parker had just barely turned a year old.  We weren’t ready for another little miracle, not while our first little miracle was so impossible to deal with.  At that time, we lived in a tiny condo in the middle of Bailey, Colorado.  It’s a long story how we got there but I do remember we had felt guided to the remote area and I loved it….until we had children.  After that it was just torture.  It took 45 minutes to an hour one way to get to the closest affordable store down in a Denver suburb.  Parker would relentlessly scream if he had been in the car too long and the day we came home after buying the pregnancy test was no exception.  I had become sick because I was unknowingly pregnant.  Brent had to keep stopping the car to, well, let me be sick.  To add to this it was the 4th of July weekend and every celebratory person and their cousin headed to our mountains for camping.  There was also a major rain storm that backed up traffic and the trip took two and a half hours to get home.  Parker screamed for most of that. We were completely rattled and it put us in a terrible mood to find out the news, that I was expecting another baby.  
 

Going up and down that beautiful mountain during this time in our lives was absolute torture and I was convinced we should have moved off the mountain before we had brought Parker home from the hospital, much less have another baby on top of it.  Brent no longer worked for the law firm that had insisted we live in the mountains (because they were in the mountains).  But we were trapped.  We purchased our home a year before the housing prices dropped.  We were still completely unable to sell our condo or even rent it out.  I would make the long and terrible drive up and down the mountain while my moody baby tortured me with his relentless screams. 

There is one day that is still vivid in my memory.  It's the reason I'm wrighting this post.  My OB’s office was as far as a drive for me as it could be.  I would travel to the bottom of the canyon then continue to drive an additional 20 minutes to the hospital.  During this time in our lives Brent would ride a bus to downtown Denver to save on gas and parking costs.  He would drive his car 10 minutes to a bus stop, take a bus down the canyon then into downtown, ride a trax system 6 blocks then walk two blocks to his office.  There was only a morning bus and an evening bus.  On this particular day, I called to let Brent know I was going to a doctor’s appointment, and he asked if I could drive to downtown to pick him up because he would be finished with his work early.  In good traffic this would add an hour to my commute back home, but I loved the idea of Brent returning home with me instead of late at night like usual, so I set out to downtown.  About halfway there the traffic completely stopped.  Parker was full blown screaming at this point and there had to have been at least another two hours ahead of me.  I had no other choice but to cut across town and head back to the mountains without getting Brent.  By time I reached the mouth of the canyon, Parker’s screaming was still building momentum and I had a good 40 minutes ahead of me.  My nerves were absolutely shot and I was beginning to become unraveled.  All I wanted, dreamed of, and prayed for, was to move off that treacherous mountain.  It was so beautiful the first two years we lived there without children.  Even though the drive was long it was pleasant and peaceful.  But as soon as I had to drive back and forth with a stubborn, moody infant with his relentless screams in the back seat the drive was bondage. I didn’t even notice the beauty all around anymore.  It was like a chain was wrapping around me, suffocating and overwhelming me.   I felt a panicked anxiety in the center of my chest that was brewing into anger and I finally lost it. 

                I started screaming at the top of my lungs and yelling at God.  We had always been so faithful to Him and this was unfair.  How could I have another child in that tiny condo that was only big enough for two?  We were about to become a family of four!  How could I add another screaming child to that drive and mentally survive it? How could we all be safe in the blizzards that plagued the mountain each winter?  How could I handle being so isolated and alone when life was so overwhelming, when I needed friends and support?  It all came out.  I had never lectured God before and my screaming and whaling only frightened Parker and made him cry louder.  I finally got to a point that I could breath instead of scream.  I waited a minute, forcing myself to calm down.  I began to pray again.  I asked for forgiveness then I asked for help to calm down.  I don’t know how it was possible to hear the whispering of the Holy Ghost in that crazed state of mind, but I felt prompted to turn on the local Christian station. The first words that came out of the radio were “I love you, I love you, I want you to know that I love you.  I’ll never let you go. No, no.  And I’ll be by your side where ever you fall.  In the dead of night whenever you call, please don’t fight these hands that are holding you.  My hands are holding you.”  I was stunned into silence. I began to weep. I wrapped my arms around the steering wheel as I slowly moved back and forth on the winding mountain road.  I don’t even remember hearing the crying any longer. Maybe Parker finally stopped, but it was just me and my Father in Heaven and He was telling me how much he loved me.   It was as if the steering wheel had become the chest of God for me to rest on and a peace settled upon me. 

Our young little family continued to live in that condo an additional year and a half before Brent was out of work and we lost it.  Those were some of the darkest and loneliest times in my life.  I didn’t  know that day that things were going to get so much worse for our family before it got better. But, a God in Heaven had spoken to me and gave me a renewed strength.  I downloaded that song and over the last eight years I’m sure I’ve listened to it over a thousand times.  When my sanity is slipping or my doubt is high I turn it on and listen to Heavenly Father tell me all over again how much He loves me.  It gives me brighter hope and greater strength to never give up no matter what life is putting us through. 

Here is the link to the song  By Your Side, 10th Avenue North

Sunday, October 4, 2015

“The Price We Pay To Become Acquainted With God”



 Sometimes Brent and I will be going through life when something reminds us of our awful experience.  I think about the mounting stress we went through and the panic starts to rise inside of me, like post-traumatic stress disorder only not as severe as someone who has gone to war.   My heart starts to race and my chest tightens, then I force myself to think of something else, anything else.  We’ve learned it’s important to address these things and not burry them away so we talk for a bit, remember what we’ve been through, and then share with each other our gratitude of how things have changed for us.   Healing still needs to happen and one of the ways it happens for me is writing it out on these blogs.  The other week when we were driving up to St George to see a Tuacahn play with my parents, memories of the drive from Denver to Las Vegas came pouring in.  As we were talking about it Brent said, “I don’t know how I physically did it knowing the mental state I was in.  How did I drive that moving van all by myself with all that wind, over mountain passes and in the dark after everything we had been through?”   Then I thought about our move.  It was the great crescendo after a string of difficult times; Colorado’s last kick in the pants. 

One of the things I have grown to greatly dislike is when I am surviving a difficult trial and someone with good intentions tries to minimize what I am experiencing by saying, “At least you aren’t going through what the pioneers went through”.   When did that ever become the right thing to say?  How can you even compare my life to theirs?  Everything is different, there is no way to really even put the two experiences side by side.  I have pioneer ancestors that were driven out of Nauvoo and Brent has pioneer ancestors that came across the plains in both the Willy and Martin handcart companies.  There is no way for me to understand their pain and suffering they experienced, but likewise there is no way to compare it to what I am currently going through in this day and age.  The one thing I can almost guaranty is they suffered and struggled and almost lost the strength and the will, but sometimes putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward against impossible odds is the only choice there is.  That is one thing I can relate to, putting one foot in front of the other and clinging to your faith like it is an unraveling thread because there are no other options.  That is often when heaven finally intervenes on your behalf.

One of my favorite church history story’s is when a man that was in the handcart companies stood in a Sunday School class years later and bore witness to what he experienced.  This is a portion of the account that was given: 

“Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities.”
“I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.” He continues: “I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.”
“Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.’” (Relief Society Magazine, Jan. 1948, p. 8.)



I may feel it is out of context to compare my life to the pioneers’ lives because it is like comparing apples and oranges.  But, it does not lessen the absolute love, respect and appreciation I have for their experience.  And no, you cannot compare what I am about to share with you with anything they experienced or anything you’ve experience.  What you can take away from my experience is that God in all his glory allows us to suffer and experience life’s sorrows, but he also offers us help and the Savior’s atonement.     

You may know by now from my previous posts some of what we experienced in Colorado.  Leading up to our move to Las Vegas it didn’t feel like we were ever going to leave our suffering or move on from our sorrows and I honestly didn’t think it could get any worse, and then it did.

I never felt as alone as I did during the weeks leading up to Brent’s job offer.  I had gotten close to losing my baby during his birth, had literally seen his heart rate almost turn to zero.  I had hemorrhaged, was in danger of losing my own life and had a C-section to save us both.  Nothing could have prepared me for how awful recovering from a C-section was.  I remember Dr. Lamb very sternly telling me that for the next six weeks I was not to do anything but take care of the baby, that it was my turn to be taken care of and that it was very important in order for me to heal. That didn’t even come close to happening.  Brent had no other choice but to be gone looking for employment.  January and February are the times most law firms hire and it was a small window of time for Brent to get work and we could not afford his attention to be put anywhere else.  He was gone most of the day applying for jobs and talking to contacts.  When he was home he was often preoccupied with how he would get employment.  My parents had sold their home and were literally packing up and leaving for Utah at that time as well. 

We had moved out of their home six months prior and moved into a friend’s basement when it was offered to us because of the stress we were putting on my parents.  They were trying to sell their house at the time and we sincerely thought we would only have to stay in our friend’s basement for a month or so.  We were not prepared to be there for six months.  Both Brent and I were mortified that we were still in their basement and Brent was still out of work.  They were amazing for letting us stay as long as they did and helped us so much.  When Ethan was a couple of weeks old my friend came down with pneumonia.  She was also expecting a baby and I felt awful for her and wanted to do more to help her.  But I was still recovering from my surgery and after almost loosing Ethan during his birth my mommy protective instincts went into full force and I was constantly petrified that he would also get sick at such a vulnerable age.  Unfortunately I couldn’t be there for my friend in her time of need like she had been there for me.  I tried to do little things.  I even shoveled their driveway once even though I was not supposed to lift anything but it wasn’t enough to get rid of the mounting guilt I felt over the whole situation. 

Brent got the job offer we so desperately needed in Las Vegas.  He left three days later and like I wrote in a previous post I basically feel apart.  I had to pack up what we had in our friend’s basement on my own with a nursing baby and two young kids and everything felt like it was one step forward then two steps back.  I could barely stay calm and civil.   I had to constantly fight my instincts to go bat crazy on my kids for just being kids.  Children innocently have the ability of taking a situation and making it a hundred times more difficult just by being children.  The more children you have involved the more complicated the situation becomes and I was consumed by it.  It was like drowning slowly, I could not get my head above water. 

Brent flew back three weeks later so we could move the next day.  The plan was we would hire a moving company to pack up our stuff and drive it to Las Vegas. I had spoken with a sales person at a moving company and he had quoted that it would cost about $1300.  We planned to pay for it with our tax return and I had to put down a $550 deposit.  I thought it was a great deal and a blessing……….little did I know.   Most of the stuff we had in our friend’s basement was our children’s things and baby stuff but you know how much space that can take up then we would have the drivers go over to our storage unit and pack that up.  Since I was nursing Ethan and driving long distances had been difficult with our kids in the past I really wanted Brent to drive.  We stayed up until 2 am to finish packing and woke up at 6 am so we could be ready for the packers.  When Abby woke up she had a high fever and was very sick.  Then when the packers showed up at 8 am all the despair I had been feeling from all the stress reached a whole new level.  The movers looked baffled and told me the $1300 wouldn’t even cover what we had in the basement and wanted to look at our storage unit before they packed anything.  They looked at our storage unit and the new estimate was in……..$5,000.00.  I had a full on panic attack and started screaming at them that they had to give us our $550 dollars back so we could rent a U-Haul.  They told me it was nonrefundable and I started screaming that I had been lied to by their sales person.  Suddenly Brent and I switched rolls and he was the level headed, calm, problem solving one and went into full gear renting a truck and calling the missionaries to come help us move.  Thank goodness we had three sets of missionaries in our ward at the time.

Our plans completely changed and suddenly we were no longer leaving at 9 am to drive to Las Vegas.  We had a friend we actually knew from when we lived in Las Vegas before  and currently lives in Colorado answer our call for help on FB.  Even though he lived 20 minutes away he showed up and helped at the storage unit as well as the six missionaries helping to pack us up.  My kids were in the car most the time because Abby was battling a 103 degree fever.  Half way through the packing I wondered about taking her to the doctor because she had a severe cough.  Ethan was sleeping a lot because he had gotten his vaccines the day before but I had to stop packing a few times for about 45 minutes to an hour to nurse him throughout the day.  We filled up the truck and had to rent an additional trailer for the stuff we still had in our friend’s basement.  After the storage unit we had to carry all our stuff up a hill from the basement to the truck so even though it was half the amount of stuff it took twice as long.  Finally at 4:00 pm the last item had been packed and then I heard a blood curdling scream.  Parker had put his hand on the back of the truck at the same time someone was slamming the metal door to the truck shut.  When I saw his hand it looked broken and I wondered if we should even leave with Abby sick and Parker’s hand severely hurt.  Ethan also absolutely hated his car seat and would scream hysterically every time he was buckled in.  I was beyond the point of being overwhelmed.

 I held it together long enough to say a quick good bye to my friend and her kids but as soon as I got myself and my kids in the car and saw Brent pull away in the moving van I started to violently sob.  My poor children; I’m so glad they were fairly young during this time in our lives and forgave easily because both Brent and I were a complete mess during the entire six months but most especially the last couple months.  I sat there barely able to breathe, knowing there were winding roads and mountain peaks both Brent and I would have to drive.  Brent was in a moving van with a trailer and I would have to drive with the kids stopping every few hours to nurse.  Knowing I would be driving in the dark after the day we had was almost more than I could handle.  I had lived in those Rocky Mountains and I knew they were a force to be reckoned with.   Not only that but all three of my children were not doing well.  It was at this point that I remembered a blessing I had received just before Brent had been offered a job.

I remembered being told that during this time of difficulty I would have the company of angels and that I would especially have the company of my brother.  I was also told in the blessing that the Lord saw the sacrifices I had encountered and been called upon to face as equal to what the pioneers had faced.   I turned to my kids and told them to be reverent for a very special prayer.  I prayed earnestly that Heaven would come to our aid, that even though we were blessed with vehicles we still had a long and dangerous journey ahead of us and I asked that all of us would have angels to help us and accompany us like the pioneers did on their journey.   I told Heavenly Father that I was too weak, both spiritually and emotionally, and I needed Heaven to come to my aid.

We jumped on the E-470 that turned into the C-470 then came to a complete stop.   There had been an accident on C-470 during rush hour and we ended up spending almost two hours in it before getting off at the mouth of the canyon leading into the Rocky Mountains.  I hadn’t even left Denver yet before I had to stop and nurse my baby; we were just starting our journey at 7 pm at night.  I drove up the ramp heading onto the I-70, my kids were listening to the Frozen sound track and then I felt it.  Heaven came and Cordell was there.  It was like a butterfly landing on my hand.  I was scared to make any sudden moves I didn’t want him to fly away.  I’m not sure if it was just Cordell or if each one of my children had someone there to help them but they were calm and the best behaved they had ever been.  Ethan slept the whole way, Parker’s hand was doing much better and Abby’s fever lessoned and she wasn’t as sick.  I kept quietly talking to Cordell and begging him not to leave.  I can count the times I’ve felt him in my life since he passed on one hand and I was worried he would leave.  The kids asked me if they could keep listening to Frozen over and over.  I joke that I must have heard, “let it go” 200 times on that trip.  For whatever reason it brought them comfort and I was able to handle it without getting tired of listening to it.  I thought it was a little prophetic for our situation hearing, “Let it go, let it go” over and over again as we crossed the Rocky Mountains and state I had loved so much.  I also desperately wanted to let go of the pain and the anguish and with Cordell supporting me it was somewhat of a start. 

We got to Fruita, Colorado late and stayed in a hotel there.  Because Brent had to go so slow I would pass him and get pretty far ahead then I would have to stop and nurse the baby and he would pass me.  He made it to the hotel before me and got a room then when I got there we carried the sleeping children up.  Somehow I managed to wake up early even though I was exhausted.  Brent left an hour before we did so I could get the kids breakfast and let them eat it as we started out again on our journey and there he was again.  Cordell had come again and even though he was there I was totally on edge.  It was March and the wind was blowing through the canyon like a hurricane.  At one point I caught up to Brent and saw the truck and trailer struggle to stay upright under the force of the wind.  Everything about the drive was intense and difficult but we were not alone and we felt peace. I was sure that Brent was receiving the same heavenly help that I was.  A half an hour outside of Las Vegas, out in that barren dessert, I felt Cordell leave, like a butterfly that takes off because it has somewhere else to go.   I cherish the time I got to spend with him and was so grateful my big brother came to take care of his little sister one more time.  I can’t tell you how much I still miss him, all these years later.

We got to our town house an hour before the management closed on a Saturday and then realized we never had the utilities turned on and would have to wait.  I was moving into my old roommate’s ward and she had managed to scramble a few guys together at the last moment and our family that lives in Las Vegas showed up.  Brent and I were spent down to the last part of us and we still had to unpack.  Brent looked beat up and exhausted and we didn’t see any way that we would be able to stay in our house that night without utilities or go to church in the morning.  The elder’s quorum president seemed especially concerned and didn’t want to leave us.  We were obviously a disaster that had plopped ourselves into Las Vegas and into his ward. He left for a while and came back with a few flashlights and camping lamps and told us if we needed his help the next day even though it was Sunday not to hesitate to call him.  I remember him telling us if we at least needed help with setting beds up before it got dark the next day to please call him.  Even though it was the Sabbath we felt we had no choice but to collect ourselves instead of going to church the next day.  We couldn't even attempt to find church clothes in the chaos.  Brent’s sister Stephanie let us come and stay at her house and sleep in their beds.  It was marvelous; we even got a quick shower.

The next day we desperately tried to get organized but between the kids, a new born and not knowing where anything was I reached a point that I felt we had no other choice but to call Shawn, our elder’s quorum president and ask him for help setting up the beds.  He seemed relieved that we had called and promised he would be over as soon as he was home from church.  He came in and an hour later he had not only set up our beds before dark he had helped us to organize the boxes and furniture so we could maneuver around the house.  It was one of the most Christ-like acts I have witnessed in my life.  Not once did he judge us or make us feel that we had no right to interrupt his Sabbath but he helped a suffering family with a pure and serving heart, only concerned for our welfare. 

The next day a couple of miracles happened and we got both our electricity and our gas turned on.  I've heard horror stories since this experience that a number of people have gone weeks without gas in the Vegas area so it was a great blessing.  There was also an investigation done with the moving company and they eventually returned our nonrefundable down payment.  It took a full month to get the house organized and another month to get the garage to a point of parking both our cars in it.   Things weren’t immediately better.  In fact it took months upon months and things even got a little worse again before they got better.  But, eighteen months later, we are finally, slowly but surely seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.   I will never forget the help we received during that time from angels both on this side of the vail and the other.  As I have written this story I can see the miracles intertwined with the sorrows and I am truly grateful for the opportunities that have helped me to become acquainted with God.