If Things Get Real Real For Me Down Here

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRX3k_im5I8

"If things get real for me down here, promise to take me to

Before you went away, if only for a day." ~ Missy Higgins

There are days when right from the start I know she's near and I can feel her influencing my song and my space and instinctively I know to follow her. If you had asked me that her death would have left such a void I doubt I would have ever argued but today, as I went through a monster transition I knew she was near and making my fears easier to bare.

I wonder sometimes; how would she feel about me and about my life right now? Am I making her proud or giving her peace, as I knew for many years she felt my turmoil just as much as I did. What would it be like to have a moment of her Heaven. I know it would be a beautiful place filled with all the people I love and she loved before. Is Grandma W and Grandma P polishing the silver?

What I would give for Mom's arms to embrace me and to know she understands my sorrow at her absence. I watch my Dad ache at her empty resting place on the sofa where she would watch  TV or when he stands in the kitchen where she would make his meal, religiously for all those many years.

Christmas is the season I feel her loss the most. Tonight, as I was walking the aisles in the Chapters store searching for Grandpa's gift I could feel her silently lead me to his favorite books, his favorite gadgets and his favorite treats. I know she would be happy that his mincemeat tarts found their way to his house quickly. K2 had the tree up and the house clean, as Mom would have, when he got home. What it must be like now for him. For over 50 years she was always there when he came home. Their marriage wasn't perfect but it meshed in a way that only people who have been together for 52 years could ever understand.

Was she with Dad when I talked to him of my concerns this week and for his soft and caring response so unusual for him. I think so. Tonight, for the first time in such a very long time I drove by Mom and Dad's house without going in. I knew Dad was there but I knew Mom was too and Dad being the solitary man that he is, I left him alone to feel her.

So the song, well, K1 being the creative genius that she is, mourned Mom by choreographing a dance to the song that most reminds her of Grandma; "The Sound of White" by Missy Higgins. Now, when I am returned to the grieving, I reach to the melody too and I can see Mom, watching K1 dance and being the proud Grandma all over again.

Anthem

"Steer"

~ Missy Higgins

Feel it falling off like clothing

Taste it rolling on your tongue

See the lights above you glowing

Oh and breathe them deep into your lungs

It was always simple, not hidden hard

You've been pulling at the strings playing puppeteer for kings

And you've had enough

But the search ends here

Where the night is totally clear

And your heart is fierce

So now you finally know that you control where you go

You can steer

So hold this feeling like a newborn

Of freedom surging through your veins

You have opened up a new door

So bring on the wind, fire and rain

It was always simple, not hidden hard

You've been played at a game called remembering your name

And you stuffed it up

But the search ends here

Where the night is totally clear

And your heart is fierce

So now you finally know that you control where you go

You can steer

'Cos you've been listening for answers

But the city screams and all your dreams go unheard

But the search ends here

Where the night is totally clear

And your heart is fierce

So now you finally know that you control where you go

You can steer

Year get out of the box and step into the clear

'Cos now you finally know you can steer

It's Starting to Look A Lot Like Christmas

Last night, W, K4, and I went to go see Rita MacNeil and Frank Mills at the Southern Alberta Jubilee auditorium. I was hesitant because I had gotten the tickets to take Dad to see the concert not realizing that he usually flies in from Thailand just days before Christmas. We had spent most of the day decorating the house and getting somewhat ready for the rest of the holidays. I thought for sure this might be a bust of a concert but I couldn't have been more mistaken!

Christmases before were very difficult. There were lots of reasons to disagree and even more to want to just be left alone. It was as if Christmas was a reason to judge us even more and in the end you just sat a listened as every part of what was supposed to be a joyous season would be condemned.

Yesterday, as K3 and I were wrapping gifts and setting up the tree and I mentioned how hard is was to shake the dreaded doom that used to define the holidays and getting used to W and his enthusiasm and she agreed. We have been making great efforts to change the feelings and grasp the true reason for finding Joy is the season but somehow the past seems to rear it's ugly head every now and then.

W grew up in a religion that didn't celebrate Christmas so for him, all of it, the songs, the decorating, the remembering why we celebrate it, is the most important part of the season and I can say that it is catching on. Last night, as two absolutely amazing Canadian talents sang of their love for the season and the many reasons why we celebrate it I found myself understanding just how lucky I am for the changes that have happened and for finally having JOY through the season.

Another thing I realized last night; it was kind of an AHA moment. It was that others, meaning those not a part of my faith, can and do have a very real and deep understanding of this holiday and the importance of family. I am finding myself more and more looking at how others work their way through their own faith and beliefs and seeing that we (my faith) don't have a monopoly on belief or the ideology of family or should we ever be sanctimonious about others and there traditions of belief. I have driven by the Catholic church for years on my way to Grandma's house during the holidays and the parking lot is full as our the streets surrounding the building. The Baptist church, the United, Lutheran churches all have full parking lots as well. Christmas means as much to those folks as anyone else. It's funny, I am almost 50 years old and just now I am starting to see a whole world outside of being Mormon.

 I think it would be safe to say that at this point I, by doing nothing, have in fact decided where I stand and how I feel. Church should never be hard or harmful to anyone and asking someone to remember that it's not the people but the church seems to be a cop out to accountability to how we are treating each other. I hate being judged and I hate even more being scrutinized. It seems that I may never be able to undo the damage done by the words of my ex or the feelings that others have towards me and the role they feel I played in breaking the family that for all intents and purposes was irrevocably shattered anyway.. I don't think for a moment that people care about the truth of what really happened. The culture breeds looking at people and judging and yet professes to do quite the opposite and I am tired of trying to fit in. I am focusing on my family and finding the Joy we always deserved to have. What Christmas means now is the start of a new life. I have found true happiness and Joy within my life now and focus on my family and finding ways for them to know just how special they are to me.

Today, we are making Poppycock, because for all the years I can remember, we did just that at Grandma's house and when we do this it gives us Grandma Joy back and all that she represented during the Christmas season.

Eagles

“Eagles: When they walk, they stumble. They are not what one would call graceful. They were not designed to walk. They fly. And when they fly, oh, how they fly, so free, so graceful. They see from the sky what we never see.”

My Father's family is from the Comox Valley on Vancouver Island. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth with the advantage of having majestic mountains and the ocean close at hand without all the congestion of the urban feeling of Vancouver. I can't even begin to tell you how at home my soul and my song feels there. I absolutely love that place.

When I had my surgery a few years back, Dad sent me to Comox to recover before I returned to work. I spent a week by myself, no TV, no radio, no pressure; just books and the ocean out the back deck and the beauty of that wonderful place. While I was reading on the deck one morning a bald eagle flew by. It was majestic, inspiring and so natural and my heart just felt full at the magnificence of it all. Bald eagles nest in and around the valley and there are some places where you can come across dozens of mating pairs. If you ever wondered if there was a God, you know there is when you see these beautiful creatures soar through the air and hunt for their food.

I watched as this unbelievable creature soared through the air and played with the currents to seem as if, at times, he merely floated. I think he knew I was watching and was showing off because each time I looked up he would swing by the house and then cast himself even higher over the bay. It felt at times, like it does in the temple, or on the mountains sides or when I just know how wonderful this journey is really meant to be. I felt blessed to be the recipient of watching his great ability at flight.

I went for a walk the next day down to Goose Spit beach. All along the driftwood were dozens and dozens of eagles. I believe that someone had been feeding them there and as they walked along the beach I realized that in fact, they weren't nearly as graceful in their earth bound movements as they were in flight. How ironic was it that something so beautiful could be so awkward. I recalled thinking of all the many people I knew who had such enormous talents in one area and yet seemed so ordinary in others. That unless you were witness to these extraordinary gifts you would never really know of the magnificent abilities these people had in flight. How many people do we know that we really don't know just how amazing they really are. I wonder?

I think that I am going to go out of my way to truly see the flights of my friends and recognize them for it. Maybe that should be a resolution for the new year. Maybe that should be the way I see my way through the funk I have found myself in lately.

Each Person Knows Only Their Own Pain

“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.” ~ Paulo Coelho

When someone has been the victim of mental/emotional abuse for so long one of the difficult and lasting effects rests directly on self esteem. It’s insidious in nature and can affect the victim for life. Years of counseling and trusting the Lord has helped me to surface and breathe again. My daughters struggle as well. My son escaped most of it because we left before any lasting scars could take hold.

A residual result of this abuse has been to be angry at everything that comes close to the emotional weapons that were used against us for so many years and unfortunately, one of those weapons was the church.

It has been brought to my attention that I may sound angry at the church and have offended some who feel it’s a personal attack against their belief system. For this, I am sorry; that wasn’t my intent. I have to be clearer as to whom my disappointment rests. It isn’t the church, it is very much a people issue and when I say that, I don’t mean everyone.

Let me explain.

For many years, the church was used as a weapon in our home. In my case, for example, I was never my ex.’s spiritual equal, ever. He reminded me of this my whole married life to him and saw it as the reason he was failing at everything in his life. His prayers, his blessings, his everything was used to remind us of how we were failing him. Through family prayers, scripture reading, family home evening lessons he would simple batter the lessons home and call us to repentance. Now please, let me say here, that the Father does have and should use the gospel to help children grow and learn but when it is used in such a narcissistic way, it only compares to a hammer, heck, an anvil being bluntly used to beat you down. Doctor Z alluded to it being the equivalent of rolling up the Ensign magazine and striking over and over again until you begged for mercy, and even then, he didn’t stop. How many times I prayed for some sort of change, something that would make our family succeed.

This was a difficult life for us and while in it, hope was difficult to fathom. One expectation he did have was that our dirty laundry was to stay within the walls of our home. Airing it anywhere else was forbidden and so, nothing changed. It wasn’t until it became unbearable and that it was written over all of our faces that people began to notice. Someone reached out and healing began for us and campaigning became his new weapon. His comments equaled calling his daughters horrible names not just to their faces but to any one who stopped and listened, or for that matter, didn’t stop. He was aggressive in his defense and it didn’t matter who he took down in the process. Ultimately, there were no more family secrets and the dirty laundry from his perspective was blowing all over the place.

This is when it started to get very difficult for me.

M told anyone who would listen what he felt were the reasons for the demise of our family. To this day he tells people I walked out on him. He hasn’t the ability to understand that walking out was the only option left as he refused to even acknowledge he was doing anything wrong. It was a sink or swim situation and I chose to swim and free myself and the kids from his tyranny.

I have paid a dear price to this day for his words he continues to use to describe our marriage. People who feel strongly that I deserted him and took away his family are openly hostile towards me. I could give examples but the point would be mute. What I can describe is the heartache that accompanies it and the feeling of surrender I fight with daily.

Imagine someone who has known you since you were a little girl, who has been an open supporter and friend suddenly turns his back on you, snarls and curses you and when assigned to HT you will not enter your home but teaches you in the middle of the street because of what or why, you never get to know, you just feel the hatred and say nothing because in the end, what purpose does it serve. Imagine not be acknowledged or spoken to by people who have known you for ever. Having someone at a High Priest Social, who doesn’t even know you goes to address your new fiancee about how evil you are because he was told by a reliable source, the ex’s step mother, because she truly is unbiased, right? Imagine your own brother turning his back on you. If you can, then you have walked just a short time in the shoes I wear each day.

I am not trying to sound like a pity party. I am just tired and sad and hurt because I have dedicated my whole life to being a member and now, I find myself so dispensable, so unliked, so forgotten and everyday is a struggle to survive in the faith I love. I can’t address the financial and emotional abandonment that has occurred of my children by the man these people think is a saint. I can’t even address the abuse because it serves no purpose to do so and because of that, church has become difficult, downright hard. Feeling accepted and safe is not something that I have in the chapel and building I have gone to for over 25 years. That is what I am frustrated with, that is what brings me great pain.

The gospel is important to me. The testimony I have has transitioned into something much more personal. I don’t bear my testimony on Fast Sundays; I barely speak at church because it hurts so much to be there. Why does it hurt? Because plenty of members have made it clear that I am not equal.

How I long to feel like I belong there. How much I wish that the members could see me for who I really am and not the person that M painted me to be? Church used to be such a friendly and welcoming place, it is so much different for me now. I have tried to ignore it, tried to be positive, tried to oversee the weaknesses we all have, me included and just keep going. Over and over again I am gently and not so gently reminded of my station on the LDS cultural ladder. When things do happen, I am given the advice to continue to utilize the atonement and find forgiveness. It never seems to end, ever.

Recently, the circumstances were so much more personal. I felt stripped and bare to my efforts. Now, even in my hopes of bringing attention to the issue of how we treat each other and to finding ways to have church a welcoming place, some have felt my attacks too personal and against the church. I can’t win for losing here. How much would it take to drawn attention to the harm caused by the judgment and criticism so readily practiced within our faith or to simply find voice and have it addressed to allow those who feel already so bad about themselves, safe within the place they choose to worship? Too much I think, too much.

When we look at the statistics of the church, I am not alone in this. Over and over again I hear of the many who simply gave up because it just wasn’t worth it anymore. I am fighting that so much right now, so very much. It would be easy to join my children and to just be with them. They speak so much of the freedom from not being there, of the value you can find in yourself when you aren’t undervalued by the organization which holds your truths.

So, I will state, unequivocally my belief in the gospel of Jesus Christ and in its purpose here on earth. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet and a man and I know that for me it is the gospel that holds my heart. If at anytime you have felt that I have no love for the gospel I am sorry. It is, above all else, the people that give me great pause. I will be more careful to be clear on that in future blog entries I make. I am sorry if I have offended you.

Musings and Other Habits - Overthinking or Deciding

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace” ~ Jimi Hendrix

It’s funny; I lived in this surreal environment for so long that I have a hard time determining normal from dysfunction. It’s when I have the help of others that things are brought into a better perspective.

Have you ever wondered why the Savior had a three year mission before the very real reason he came here for was finally brought about. I am speaking of the atonement here. I was reading a dialogue between two people once, one was a member of a religion very familiar to me and the other, a Born Again Christian. The BAC was speaking of the words of the Savior and as he did, you could really understand the message. The other kept asserting the atonement and the resurrection and then it dawned on me. We study four volumes of scripture and they, one. Their entire focus is Jesus Christ and for that, hands down, they have an edge in knowing Him in their perspective.

It made me think; do I know the Savior? Besides His atonement, which I have great debt for, what more do I know about His life, His mission and what He taught in those three years He travelled with his disciples through Israel. I went about finding out, I still am, and because of that I have learned so much.

When Jesus laid down the tools of a carpenter and went forth changing a system ill equipped or wanting of change He came across so many unwilling to hear Him. The same could be said now, how many of us hear Him?

My sister taught me the greatest lesson of all about this when she said, “it isn’t about having others treat you as you would have them do but to find out how THEY wanted to be treated and then go about it”. In other words, serve – and then serve again and when you think you have served enough go out and do some more. I have slowed considerably in this department and always though it meant the church callings you had. Not so. Serving is done in so many different ways and can be just about the service to your family. I have a long way to go before I am anywhere near perfect here but alas, at least I get the message now.

I am making a monumental decision right now, one that Mom had to make at a certain point in her life as well. When I asked her why she made this one, her answer was so simple, “It just wasn’t worth it anymore”. I think now, more than ever, I get what she was saying to me. Sometimes, it just isn’t and turning yourself inside out about it doesn’t make sense. She set herself to being the matriarch of our family and she did a damn good job of it. She was and continues to be a great example of what the priorities should be in your life.

So here’s what it is in a nutshell. I don’t fit in, too many words, too many accusations, too much pain. It’s not a timeout – it’s a a break until I can figure out why I am there in the first place.

Winter's Arrival

“Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.” ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

It’s cold here! I mean really – really – really cold. It is almost minus 30c without the wind-chill. When you factor that in you have almost minus 50c. I can’t describe to you the feeling of walking outside a warm home into that cold except to say, go sit in your deep freezer for a bit and then we’ll talk.

I have such vivid and wonderful memories of growing up here in this miserably cold climate. Included in those memories is skating at the community rink outdoors until you couldn’t feel your toes anymore, getting out of the Saturday night dance to a freezing car and hearing the engine clug-clug-clug to life and cuddling until the car got warm enough to finally get going and fires at Lake Bonavista while you were skating, tobogganing behind Willow Park chapel and walking home from school with the snow crunching under your feet and your breath visible through your scarf that was wrapped around over and over again. All of them bring smiles to my face.

My asthma has worsened through the years and the biggest trigger I have is cold. I can’t be out in it long before my lungs begin to labor and the pain intensifies with each indrawn breath. I get frustrated sometimes because I would love to sit and enjoy the fire by the lake or walk through the crystallized forests of Fish Creek after a hoar frost has settled in the valley.

This morning, I saw something I hadn’t ever seen before. It was beautiful. Outside my window of the 26th floor of the downtown office building I work out was literally a vision of layers of snow crystals. The light fractured through them and it looked like someone had sandwiched the beauty the snow and cold has to offer. It can be so hard to find beauty in such a miserable thing as a freezing cold day could be. I think it was a blessing because when I sat down and turned to put my boots away I was begrudging the cold and finding the misery in it.

It’s another of those LIFE LESSON moments for me. Even in the worst of circumstances you can, if you look hard enough, find the beauty in it after all.

Winter came down to our home one night

Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,

And we, we were children once again.

~Bill Morgan, Jr.

The Miracle of a Single Flower

"If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change." ~ Author Unknown

My Mom, after years of working so many difficult jobs found her niche in the world when she formed the company – JOY OF FLOWERS. Hundreds if not thousands of brides fell in love with my Mom and her artistry as she brought the beauty of floral arrangements to their weddings and receptions. I worked for her for nearly 15 years, both paid and unpaid and what she taught me in the basement flower shop was that beauty can be found anywhere if you look hard enough.

She had her favorite flowers; I think it’s a tie between the gladiola and the gerbera daisy. You would have thought it would have been something exotic or rich in texture like a rose but she loved the simple and beautiful garden flowers. She would go to the wholesalers and buy hundreds of flowers every Wednesday and I would tag along just to stand in a room full of beautiful blooms with a remembered fragrance I can still smell now as I write. They loved my Mom at the wholesalers; I can’t even begin to tell you how much. Her genuine respect for their jobs and they prepared and packed her flowers gave me a life long lesson in the admiring and respect of every job held by every person and their value to the place of employment as a whole.

Every time I go over to the house I am brought pack to the fragrance and commotion of a seven wedding weekend. My sister-in-laws working busily to get the rentals out and mom patiently teaching everyone to design flowers. There was a time, for about 5 years where I would go to workshops and clinics and she had I had such different styles. Mom’s was traditional, mine, very European and when we settled on that, the eclectic brides would be sent my way and then some pretty funky stuff was sent out and the traditional brides found favor in everything Mom designed. I often would say that being eclectic with flowers was easier because there was no rhyme or reason to it but when you have to conform and rules play into it, for me, it was much more difficult. I loved the creativity of that basement workshop and the given’s like cantaloupe, cheese and crackers, the TV on “One Life to Live”, “The Young and The Restless” or Oprah. We laughed until we cried and week after week Mom’s business became everything to all of us.

By the end of a Saturday – all of us would gather around her island to Chinese food and laugh about all the ways we nearly screwed up or on the exchange of church flowers to set-ups. I miss her as I write this. She made life so much fuller then it ever could have been without her.

Because of these great experiences I have been able to see a single rose and understand the creativity of HF and his great plan. I remember when hybrid roses started to come into the wholesaler. It all began with the Lady Di rose which the Holland Botanists created by splicing two different roses together for her upcoming nuptials. It was beautiful and now, when I see the new colors of roses I am so amazed at how far they have come. I wonder what they will come up with for Kate and William’s wedding.

Mom taught me about beauty without ever making it a lesson I had to learn. She was like that, without even trying she made living a classroom and she was the greatest instructor.

So what am I on about?

Sometimes life will throw so much at you all at once and what you have to do is remind yourself of the beauty of just that one flower or that one person or that one thing that makes a significant difference in your thought patterns so you can emerge form the chaos and focus. When simplifying it all and making sure you aren’t overwhelmed you can then see just what it is that should be important and prioritized. This is the one of the many life lessons I have to relearn all the time. I wish it wasn’t so but it is.

Mom had a way of making things sort and become clear. I am sure it was in all those old Scottish sayings that have been handed down from generation to generation that give wisdom at the times you need it most.

So here’s my “Go-Team-Go” for today. You can and you will make it. If at times it feels differently, focus on the one thing that matters most and accomplish it, then the next, and the next after that and what will happen is you will be accomplishing what at first you felt insurmountable. How do I know this works, because I live it everyday.

An Irish Blessing to end with;

May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields and, until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Where Do You Want To Go?

“One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. Which road do I take? she asked. Where do you want to go? was his response. I don't know, Alice answered. Then, said the cat, it doesn't matter.” ~ Lewis Carroll

 What is it about choice that can confound the most intelligent people and yet the simple mind can find it to be little more than a moment’s thought? I am not even going to tell you where I lay on that occasion but really; is the fork in the road that much of a road block?

Decisions can be heart rendering and sometimes the best ones are made on the spur of the moment but how can you know which ones will be? So, as you can see, from the way I am even writing about this, I am one of those that stand at that fork and OVER ANALYZES EVERYTHING. It’s a crazy way to live and can be the source of way too much frustration. Just ask my new husband who I adore as he has the patience to offer the advice and to watch as I flounder in the decision making process. I love him for that.

The “what if’s” are the part of this process that’s killing me. I worry so much about making the wrong choice or even lack the confidence sometimes to make a choice. Then there are times when I just know, deep in my heart, that the thing I may need to do is just do it and trust my instinct. The part of me that’s changing is the instincts are happening more often which then results in those times when it’s not there to be very, very confusing.

I know those parts of my life that require me to choose the fork and quickly, that part I get. It’s when the decision can be ambiguous that I falter, you know, like Alice in the quote. If the choice you make doesn’t really come quickly, does it in the end, matter? I think so but where does it rank on the grand scale of life?

I feel beaten down right now. I am not sure why. Whether it’s because of the weather – burr, its cold – minus 30c out, or just from the drama that has plagued my life recently, but for whatever reason, there are some decisions I am having a hell of a time making.

My children are unique and noisy. They have strong opinions and I love them for that. They have thought, as I have in the past, that they and even I should have a say in each others lives. We are passing through the land of developing boundaries and re learning what all should have known from the start, that having an opinion may not always mean you have a say. I like to hear peoples opinions, they help me in the decision process but are there some decisions so important that having that many can inhibit choices or allow you to hide from the decision making process all together? I think so and I am a perfect example of it, here and now.

I am so worried that I may disappoint people that I would rather sit on a prickly, barbed wire fence than jump off on either side. I know in my heart how I feel but there is a part of me that wonders “what if”? See, there you go, those damn “what if’s” coming at me again.

If you think this blog entry is confusing, you should dwell a time in this crazy mind of mine. When I get overwhelmed and my head and heart start to hurt, I go into W’s arms and rest a bit. There usually isn’t much talking, I just fit perfectly there and when I am in that position, I feel very safe. He gives me the space and patience to think it through silently and for some odd reason, he trusts my opinion. This is all new to me and I am kind of digging it.

What I Wanted Most

“What I wanted most for my daughter was that she be able to soar confidently in her own sky, whatever that may be.” ~ Helen Claes

To My Daughters;

How amazing is it to know that out there in the world are three of the most amazing women I know. They have hearts filled with gold and compassion and love that would bring a man to his knees and I was so blessed to be able to have them in my life. When I think of the world and all the ways in can knock down a soul I think of my girls and the conquering spirits that are theirs and how, each one, in her own right, came into this world feisty and strong and how, without anyone knowing, they have overcome so much and still share their beautiful smiles to those they trust the most.

Each one came into this world on their own terms.

K1 after being late and going through hours of labor; you made it in time to meet the Grandma that flew across the country and the Grandpa who flew across the world to greet you on your arrival. When Grandma L took you into her arms, tears rolled down her cheeks and all she could say was, “It’s a girl – you are so lucky!” You handled everything so well even being half the size of anyone and when the doctor told me you would be as tall as you are now I remember laughing but he said, he was never wrong and he wasn’t. I remember that day we went and got your first ballet shoes, the smile on your face and the look in your eyes, I should have recognized then the dream that propelled you through so much pain. There are so many moments I regret that we have shared but there are so many more that make me so proud of you always. My dream for you is the one you are living now, to be loved and to be happy. My wish is that you were closer but my heart knows you are where you need to be. I love you, I love you so much.

K2; you tried to make so many early entrances that they hospitalized us for over 10 weeks. I used to lie in that stark and stale hospital room and talk to you for hours. When you came, you wouldn’t even wait for a doctor to get there and thus, a resident on his first day caught you on your way out and he just stared, they all stared, you were so beautiful. Aunt M put it all into perspective with the manila gorilla comment but it never mattered. I couldn’t take you anywhere without being told how beautiful you were. Your strength and will arrived early. “I can do it” was the first sentence you spoke and it has been your mantra ever since. I think of the three girls you and I didn’t see eye to eye the most. I learned early on though to trust you and your instincts. I am so sorry for not measuring up at a time when you needed me to the most. As I look at you know, how I wish I had your fortitude and will power. My dream for you is a love that will see the great value you are and for the life that someone who works so hard deserves. I have no fear that this will come to you, karma will bring it to you, and I know it will. I love you, I love you so much.

K3 entered this world quickly and quietly. You were so small that they thought you were a porcelain doll for over a year. We all learned early that though you were small you were a force and justice was your banner. You were the first to step up if you were wrong and you were the first to step up if someone was accusing the wrong person. You lived through so much so early and yet you seemed unfazed. Everything was brought within and carried alone. You still take on the world and carry it on those tiny shoulders. Through out your life you have also defined it on your own terms without apologies – how I admire that. My dream for you would be for the world to catch up to your vision of it; it would be a much better place if it would. I love you, I love you so much.

One of my Momo friends – I use the ‘friend” term lightly – asked me if I ever regretted unleashing on the world my girls. I have learned to curb my opinions so I simply answered no. My girls are a breathe of fresh air in a world lacking in it. In the world beyond the borders of Mormon Dom my daughters are cherished and respected. For far too long I let those cultural morels determine the value I gave them. NO MORE! What they offer is beautiful and needed and their voices are spoken for the many that remain silent out of fear. I come from a long and wonderful line of matriarchs on both sides whose strengths and words to this day are words to live by. Teaching my girls to “keep Sweet” would have been like teaching a lion to never roar!

I may never garnish the respect or accolades in a culture I barely fit in but as far as the rest of those places I do I am forever and honestly astonished at the three women who will – As the Patriarch blessed me with almost 33 years ago – “be children who will stand on your shoulders and reach higher than you were ever able to.”

They are and they have on their own terms which I am proud of.

Thank you beautiful ladies for allowing me the privilege of calling you my daughters.