Achingly, Beautifully Hard

Sometimes even when life seems easy, it still feels hard.

Achingly, beautifully hard. 

And I used to think that during these times, I was supposed to fight the feelings and pretend that it didn't feel hard.

I now know that that is not the case---I am allowed to feel like life is hard, like it is a never-ending case of bad news and failure.
I am allowed to see the darkness and acknowledge that there are some pretty rotten things in our world.

It is ok to recognize the bad and label it as such.

But recognizing the bad doesn't mean we forget about the good. It doesn't mean that hope is nonexistent.

So today feels bad. It feels like a day I am not strong enough to get through. It feels like a day where everyone is laughing at me behind my back and wondering why I'm making such a fool of myself.

It feels hopeless. 

But somewhere inside of me, there is a glimmer of fragile hope, a reminder that this day isn't the only day of my life.

Twenty-six months of being on my own---stressing about dating---realizing I can't change other people---changing a lot of things about myself.
I couldn't have looked back to twenty-six months ago and seen what I am currently seeing. I couldn't have even guessed the questions and the faith changes and the solidifying peace mixed with sheer terror.

Peace and terror. 

Many people have told me these things can't go hand in hand. They've told me that if I'm questioning my faith and feeling anxious or doubtful, I am not following God. I understand why you would think that but if only in my case alone, I know that isn't the truth.

Truth and fear can co-exist. 

Because quite honestly, either way I go, there are fears. Either path I choose, there will be feelings of anxiety.

I am finding myself and today, that sounds heavy and way too hard.
It surely doesn't sound fun.
It most assuredly isn't something I picked.
But it is something I am doing for me.

I got another year older last week and I have a good feeling about this year. I have a feeling that I am capable of enduring the dark days and basking in the glow of the sunny days.

It isn't a bad life---just a bad day.
And today, that is ok with me. I am grateful for days like today because they remind me that I am a warrior. I am a woman who loves deeply and aches deeply. I am a fighter who is capable of seeing the good even on the worst of days.

I can do hard things---and I will.

Should I Stay?

 Sometimes I look at the views on my blog posts and I'm stunned that 100 of you (and often times more) read my words.

My words. 

I feel blessed that you'd even want to go on this journey with me, through the ups and downs of my chaotic life.
Sometimes it feels weird, blogging openly about my life, but I'd be doing it even if you weren't reading. I'd be sitting at this same chair, typing these same words, even if no one read them.

A part of me feels like they are for you but I know they're really for me, for my healing and sanity in the midst of all the crazy.

I wanted to touch on a subject that I've written about many times---probably more times than most people are comfortable with.

I've had a lot of people over the past two years tell me the bits and pieces of their story and then ask if I think they should stay or go.

Each time this happens, the answer is the same:

I cannot answer that.

Or maybe it is that I will not answer it.
I guess I could very easily tell someone that their marriage sounds like a train wreck and that they should move out and file divorce paperwork.

But that is not my advice to give. In fact, that is nobody's advice to give---except maybe a licensed professional. Maybe.

Maybe I feel so strongly about this because I got opposing advice after my husband left me.
You should file. You should fight for him. You should_______fill in the blank_______. 

And although maybe it should've helped, all it did was confuse me more. Because I wanted to please everyone and take their advice but I couldn't make both opposing decisions.

The truth is that the decision was only mine to make. It wasn't anybody else's---except for my husband's. {duh}
The people who were telling me to fight for him---they weren't there for the nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering what was wrong with me and why I felt the uneasiness that I did.
The people who were telling me to file for divorce---they didn't witness the times my husband supported me and I saw glimpses of a happy future together.

Nobody knew the full story. Nobody knew what I was feeling inside or what answers God had given me.

Nobody felt the pain that I felt or the anxiety that stopped me in my tracks on countless occasions. Nobody saw how truly scared I was that my life was over.

And really, nobody knew how deeply it hurt to feel so abandoned by the person who had promised me eternity. Nobody could see the turmoil that churned inside of me as I put my brave face on each day.

They couldn't have. I never expected them to.

But because they didn't have the knowledge that I had, nobody could make that scary decision for me.

Because of so many personal experiences, I know that I cannot decide whether you should go or stay. I know that I cannot tell you that my story is similar enough to yours that you should mirror my decisions.

No two stories are alike because no two people are alike.

Your heart may want to stay and if it does, you'd have my blessing.
Your heart may want to run away and if it does, you'd have my blessing.

Both choices are brave. 

One does not make you weak while the other makes you strong.

I've been told many times that I'm brave for being a single mom {not that I really had a choice} and I am. I am brave to be raising my kids the majority of the time and going to school and working.
But I've seen women who stay, who fight for their marriage and learn how to trust when they didn't think they could ever trust again and to me, that is equally as brave.

Either one might will most likely cause you to break for a while. 

But as surely as I know that the sun will rise again tomorrow, I know that you won't break forever. I know that you are capable of carrying on with or without a spouse by your side.

If you have children, your decision might be messier but I know that children can be ok. They can heal.
It might take extra late nights or therapy or them spewing their hurt and anger at you daily---and it might even take all of those things. But they can be ok.

For us, it didn't fall into place in a day. In fact, sometimes it still seems out of whack.

I watched as my children became different, less trusting of others and more angry at the world. I watched as the light in their eyes seemed to darken and tears poured out daily. I watched their confusion and pain.

And I've watched it slowly repair. I've watched them show empathy toward others who are hurting. I've watched them love harder and become closer to each other.

It's hard when you're faced with decisions that seem daunting and life-altering. I get it and I'm here for you.
I cannot tell you what decision will be right for you in the end but I do know that you're capable of making that decision---and you're even allowed to change your mind.

Life is a lot more fluid than I used to believe it was. Although it is filled with highs and lows, it is filled with so many second chances.

I remember what it was like to feel like I was in a deep, dark pit where the sun did not exist. I remember how scary it was to separate from my husband and figure out how to live independently.

If you're there, I'm here. 

My biggest advice would be to reach out and let others carry some of the burdens you can give up for a while.
Keep yourself safe. Make your decision based on what will keep you physically and emotionally safe.
Remember to care for yourself. So often, we get caught up in helping others or raising our children that we forget to take care of ourselves too.
Create boundaries with the people in your life. Speak up about what you need and what you don't need. Tell them when they offend you and when they're being helpful. Teach them how to help you---they won't always know what to do.

Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard.
Life is pretty dang hard.

But you are stronger than you think. 

When Reality Sucks

This quote hit me hard tonight as I was scrolling through some old posts and crying my swollen eyes out.
Because crying is apparently my new thing.
Just kidding---kind of. 

My car wouldn't start tonight. Actually, it started acting funky this morning but I prayed that it was just a fluke.

It wasn't. 

I cried the entire drive home {in my mother's car that she so kindly offered to let me borrow} because I was stressed beyond belief. I had an emotionally exhausting day---and then this.

Really?

My kids asked why I was crying so much and I voiced my feelings briefly about money and wanting to be the best mom for them and feeling like every time I try to get ahead, I get punched in the face. They were both so empathetic toward me and reminded me that it would be ok.

Because cars are just cars. It will get fixed and all will be well again. The car breaking down doesn't determine my happiness or my goodness or my worthiness. It is just a car.

But my goodness, if I could just CATCH A BREAK, that'd be super great. Most of the time, I feel like I'm drowning, like I'm stretched so thin that it wouldn't even be possible to fit in one more second of "life". I know that isn't true. Single mom life might be hard but there are so many reasons that it isn't hard. There are so many positives to the life I'm living now.

There has been so much growth. 

But with that growth comes questioning and doubt---it always seems to do that. I question if I'm really a good mother or if I'm just depicting myself that way on the internet. I question whether this is the real me or if the girl who heads straight to the couch after work and sits there for a while doing practically nothing is the real me---which would make me lazy and selfish. Is that really me? Or is there a greater amount of goodness that resides within my bones that once in a while needs a break after a long day of providing/school/homework/bills/parenting?

I think tonight I'll try to see myself in that second girl and not count the minutes I spend on the couch each afternoon while I tell my children to do their homework.

I always envisioned myself to be this super involved mother who sits at the kitchen table with a homemade snack for the kids and reads through every homework assignment with them. I envisioned the amazing talks we would have and the laughter that would accompany the conversation..

And reality is far different than the vision in my head of the mother I am "supposed" to be. Reality is telling the kids to get themselves breakfast in the morning or dinner at night when I am feeling too overwhelmed and tired. Reality is mindlessly scrolling through Facebook and answering random homework questions as they come. Reality is fast food and dirty clothes on the floor and not taking the time to shower for a few days because I'd much rather just sit---just sit and breathe and thank God we are all still alive.

Sometimes reality sucks.

But most of the time, the reason I think it sucks isn't because I am truly unhappy but because I have this vision in my head of what I'm supposed to be doing every second of every day. I have created this vision in my head of what the perfect mother would be doing.

And I have to remind myself that I am not the perfect mother nor will I ever be her. Part of that has to do with my current relationship status but let's get real here---I wasn't an amazing homemaker before my divorce. I struggled with cooking and cleaning and making sure everything was always in order.

But the kids? I didn't used to struggle with that. I didn't used to need so many breaks or accept the fact that independence would be coming much sooner for them than it would for most children their same ages.

I had help almost every day. I could rely on another adult to come home from work and be present in our home. I could go to the damn grocery store by myself!
Obviously these things are small and seem insignificant but they make a difference.

Sometimes I wish this wasn't my life but every time that happens, all I have to think about is the woman I am now versus the woman I used to be and then I remember that I wouldn't trade the person that I am for anything---not even for a husband.
And maybe that's weird. Maybe that seems confusing because had I not gone through all of this, I wouldn't have known any different. But the fact is that I do know different. I have learned things that have enabled me to teach my children things I never would've thought to tell a 5 and 7 year old. I look around at the people in my life who are all struggling uniquely and I can recognize that every single one of them is going through something that is hard for them.

We don't get to decide what is a hard trial and what isn't.

I might feel like a failure a lot of the time but during the small moments where my children are curled up in my arms or I witness them showing kindness toward others, I remember that I am getting some things right.

The next step is remembering those small victories during these exhausting and hard times.

I'll get there eventually...

Two Years Later

August 23rd, 2013:
I lived a seemingly normal life as a stay-at-home mother. I had been married for 6.5 years. I was happy.

I had no idea.

No idea.

And although I tell myself I wish I would have had an idea of what was coming, the truth is that I don't.
Because if God had come and told me what I would go through over the next two years, I would've given up. I seriously would've thrown in the towel and said, "I can't handle those hard things. I'm already drowning from this infertility mess and trying to figure out my marriage."

I would've told Him I can't do this hard thing He knew I was going to do.

But because I didn't know, I didn't give up.

On August 24th, 2013, I woke up on a seemingly cheery Saturday and spent the morning with my children. I awaited my husband's arrival from work at lunch time. And when he didn't come home, I knew.

I knew.

And there were no signs other than the Spirit telling me.
I think that's why, although I've wanted to many times over the past two years, I haven't given up on God. I can never discount His presence because He is real. I don't doubt that He is real.

I've broken down about this anniversary twice this weekend, each time with different people. My therapist would say that's a healthy thing---crying in front of people and letting my feelings out---and I think I agree with her. I feel like the vulnerability of sharing this anniversary with others is healing for me. It's not something I do because I am living in the past but because this is a part of me. It always will be. It shapes an essential part of who I am and why I treat others the way that I do.

As I was speaking with my friend, she asked me where I am in the healing process and I realized I could honestly answer that divorce does not run my life. I am healing. I fight my eating disorder. I feel empathy for myself. I feel empathy for my ex-husband.

It isn't perfection. I am not great at being an ex-wife. It's hard work, friends. It really is. But it works out each and every time.

I lost myself as I was going through divorce. I lost faith in myself, love for myself, and I was not nice to myself.
As I was gaining compassion for others, I didn't leave any for myself.

I was breathing but I wasn't living. And there are still days that I don't fully live. There are still hard days where I look at the clock and two hours has gone by and I'm on the couch eating chips and watching television.

I thought I had found my eternity but I hadn't. And although there is nothing I can do about that decision that I did not make, there are still times where it really hurts, where my healing seems back at the beginning.

But I guess the way that I can tell I am healing is that I stand up for myself more now. I fight against the lies in my own head that tell me I'm not good enough. I fight for my children and my friendships and my family. I know the kind of person I want to be and I try my damndest to be her.

I am starting to remember who I was when I was a little girl, long before the world told me who I should be. I am starting to remember how much compassion and love God gave me before I even knew what compassion meant.

And I love her. I love that little girl.

I am her.

This is hard stuff. It has been an extremely emotional weekend because I'm crazy and my mind says, "Two years ago, at this particular time, you were spending time with your husband on a Friday night." "Two years ago, tomorrow, he told you he didn't love you." "Two years ago, you had no idea what was coming and you shattered."

Two years ago, I was left to tell my children why their dad wasn't home yet---and they were angry at me. They were so angry because they didn't understand.

Two years ago, they changed. They had to grow up faster than they should have and it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that I had to tell them alone or that they had to split their parenting time. None of it was fair.

But it happened and I am so proud to be the mama of those strong warriors who lifted me up when my world crashed. I am so proud to have seen the ugliest times and the most beautiful times with them these past two years. They have worked hard to heal and they are amazing children.

We stick together. These kids are my buddies and they always will be. My children are the most important thing in the world to me.

Two years sounds like a long time. Sometimes it feels like it's been longer and sometimes it hits me like it was yesterday.

I am proud of where we are as a family. I am proud of who I am.

Although I still struggle and life feels so scary most of the time, I am not giving up. I am not going to let the ugliness of the past two years become me---because there has been beauty too. So. Much. Beauty. So many nights where my kids are snuggled up in my bed and I wonder how God could've given me such amazing children. So many days where my children speak with love and understanding for the heartache of their friends or family members. So many times where Andersen opens my car door or rubs my back "because that is what gentlemens do for their ladies".

They are wise beyond their years and I often stare at them and wonder how they got that way---and then I realize that I am that way.
I am compassionate and loving. I am empathetic. I would find a way to help a struggling friend on the busiest days of my life.
I would.

And it is in these times of realization that I am more fully aware of the love my God has for me because I am His daughter. I am His and He won't ever leave me.

I am lovely not because of the clothes I wear or the make up on my face but for the way that I act and the person that I am on the inside.

These aren't easy things to say. They aren't things I always believe. These are certainly things my eating disorder tells me are lies.
But they are truths.

I am worthy and good and lovely.

And on this day where I painfully remember the trauma that started two years ago, I am reminded that I am a warrior and I have done so many hard things. Among the negativity, love has still won.
Love will always win.

Kindergarten: Round Two

 If there's one thing I've learned it's that divorce has made me a more protective mother.

Because I was there in the middle of the night, stroking the hair of a crying child who missed their dad. I was there when the confidence level shifted and there was worrying about stability and abandonment.

I watched it all.

And I have to tell you, over these past few years, my children have been some of the most incredible warriors I've ever seen. They've taught me so much about bravery.
I mean, I'm the adult and I haven't handled the past few years as eloquently as I could have but these kids? They've been amazing, all things considered.

Tonight I want to focus on my little man. I've had thoughts of this post in my head for about a month now but I wasn't sure if I could explain it or get through it without crying or breaking down---because my little man is so amazing. So so amazing.

From the time he was young, I knew he was sent here for a reason. I know, I know, we could each say that about each individual child but there was something different when Ninja was born.

I was protective of this boy. I remembering breaking down when he was a week old because we had visitors over and I hadn't held my boy in over 20 minutes. As I cried and the visitor kindly handed him back, I kept thinking, "What the heck is wrong with me? How could I miss a baby that was sitting right next to me in someone else's arms?"

I seriously thought I was crazy.

It's a little funny to me that I am so attached to this boy. He gives me a run for my money. He was our poop painter, our permanent marker wall artist, and he has a hard time not getting too aggressive with other kids when he's playing.
His listening skills aren't great---they're almost non-existent---but we've always been close.

When his dad left, I was so scared for this kid. I was afraid of what divorce would do to his little heart. He was only 3 when we separated.

And over the past two years, I've watched some significant changes in him and some of them have been messy.

I was scared about Kindergarten. I was seriously so so so so scared. I don't want my son to be labeled a 'problem' because he can't sit still or because sometimes he still has daytime accidents. I was worried about him because he isn't a big fan of academic work and he would much rather watch tv or play video games---both of which I try to limit in our home.

Leading up to the first day of Kindergarten, I was worried about whether his teacher would care about him and be able to help him in the best possible way---and I wasn't sure.
I wasn't sure because I don't believe anyone can be the kind of mother that I am for Ninja.

Sidenote: The irony?

Many times over the past year, I have argued with my therapist that I'm not an outstanding mother and that many women could do a better job than me. Each and every time, she would shake her head and disagree---firmly. And leading up to the start of Kindergarten, somehow I can see it now.

I can see how I am the best mother for this boy. It isn't a perfect job but it is what Ninja needs from me right now.


I was still worried on the first day of school. He looked so adorable and our morning was so positive so I made sure to keep my worries to myself so they wouldn't show. As I dropped him off, I felt ok about leaving him with his teacher and I smiled as I got in my car and started my drive to work.

But when I got on the freeway, I was a mess. Tears started to stream down my face and I realized these tears weren't about my fears for Kindergarten but somehow, I hadn't even thought about the fact that it is HARD to accept that my BABY is in school full day.

Because in my perfect world, I would be a stay-at-home mom right now with two or three more children running around this house. In a perfect world, I didn't plan on Ninja being my baby and I certainly didn't plan on ALL of my children being in school full time this soon.

I called my mom and she talked to me the whole way to work. I'm grateful she answered her phone that morning because I needed her to tell me this is all going to be ok.

You'd think this was the end, that our "Starting Kindergarten" story is over but it isn't quite wrapped up yet.

I had picked Ninja's particular school for two reasons: the full day schedule and the curriculum. The bus came and picked him up right at our neighborhood school and it seemed perfect.

And it was perfect---until he got home from school at 4:30 on the first day. Or when he got home at 4:45 on the fourth day.

I started to panic a few days ago when I realized this schedule wasn't working. I didn't want him gone so late and he wasn't doing well in the evenings after sitting on a hot bus for an hour after school every day.

So yesterday, I made the decision to switch him over to our neighborhood school. I called them, set it all up, and went in to sign him up this morning.

He even went with me to take a peek at his new-new school.

I am hoping that tomorrow goes well and that Ninja has another great first day of Kindergarten.
He is excited and I can tell he's a little nervous but I feel so much peace when I think about him being so much closer to me and to our home.

I'm still worried---I don't think that'll ever end---but at least I feel much more at ease.

Parenting is hard. Parenting school-aged children is hard. Parenting children of divorce seems extra hard. But we can do hard things.

In fact, we do hard things. Every single day.

I'm proud of this brave warrior that I get to call my son. He is so special and I feel so lucky to be able to raise him and watch him grow.

Divorce Defines Me

 We are back from Washington DC. Actually, we got back four days ago but I have been swamped with homework to try and catch up. 
I will blog about our trip in a few different posts but there has been a post I can't seem to get out of my mind so I decided to try and write it out while it's fresh. 

Haven't we all heard those "uplifting" quotes that say, "My trials don't define me" or "Don't let your past define your future"? I know I have. And each time I hear a quote like that, I feel something stirring inside of me that says, "This does define me! How could it not?"

I don't know why or when it became negative to allow our past to define our future but maybe I'm looking at it differently.

When I think of something defining me, I think of it molding me into a better person. This includes my good experiences and the really horrible ones. I look at who I am now versus who I was two years ago and guess what? My divorce is part of what defines who I am. It is a part of me and because of those experiences, I am a much different---a much stronger---me.

At the beginning of the week, I was awoken at 1:30am to fire alarms blaring throughout our hotel. I jumped out of bed and quickly realized that this could be a legitimate emergency.

I was scared and alone in a hotel room with my two children and my first reaction was to grab them and run to my parents room down the hall.

This wasn't the first time I have had to experienced incredible fear when thinking about caring for my children alone.

In fact, I was pretty much thrown into that world weeks after my husband moved out when an intoxicated man was banging on my door in the middle of the night and yelling profanities.

But for a few moments, I was so panicked---and then I remembered, I can do this. I can get them out of here and snuggle my scared 7 year old while my 5 year old runs around and laughs and plays {Two VERY different personalities}.

It was one of those moments that I was reminded that divorce does define me. It has changed who I am as a mother and as a woman. I have more empathy and compassion for so many trials, most of which I could never begin to understand.

I don't think it's a negative thing. Maybe you do but I really don't. I don't think this is me not moving on from the past. In fact, I have moved on a lot more than I dreamed I'd be able to. I don't think that talking about the past means that I'm ignoring the present or future.

I think sometimes when we break, we have to reshape ourselves and it's ok to look at the person we once were and see how far we've come.

Divorce will always be a part of my life. It isn't something I can hide nor do I feel ashamed and want to hide it. Divorce has brought some of the highest highs and lowest lows into my life.

And I'm ok with that defining who I am today.

Eight Years

 Eight years ago, I made a decision that ultimately affected my life forever.

I married my then-husband in the Mesa, Arizona temple.

 Soon we had children.

 The cutest freaking children in the entire world!

 Although marriage wasn't perfect, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

 My whole life revolved around raising children. I was home with them all day and all night. I felt like life was what I had hoped it would be.

Eight years.

I was exactly 19.5 years old the day I got married (So happy half-birthday to me today!). I hadn't planned it that way. In fact, as my friends were dreaming of marriage, I was planning on becoming a nanny in another country or attending college in another state. I wanted to move out and have some time to grow.

But I did it exactly the way I was supposed to do it. I fell in love and got married. I was exactly the age I was supposed to be and it all fell into place.

 Life was rocky and beautiful. There was so much good.

Last year, as April 14th crept up on me, I knew I didn't want this day to be full of sadness for what could've been. I wanted it to be full of good memories and happiness. So we started a tradition of celebrating the day our family became a family.

It may look different. We might be a split family. But without April 14th, 2007, my children wouldn't be here. So today, we celebrate the choices two people made to bring those amazing little chicklets into the world.

 We celebrated today by having dinner at Texas Roadhouse and I told my children stories of my wedding day. I told them how happy we were and how amazing it was to welcome each of them into the world.

 And when they asked why it ended, we talked about how sometimes things don't go the way we planned them.

But God is always there. Even when the hardest thing we ever thought possible happens, we are never alone.

And each time they would start to get stuck on the heartache of our divorce, I would bring them back with a happy memory.

I emphasized how real those memories are. I emphasized that no matter what life is like now, back then it was how it was supposed to be. I loved their dad and he loved me. And together, we love the two of them so very, very much.

I really can't believe it's been 8 years since that sunny April day.

Sometimes I'm sad that it turned out this way but then I look at my two children and how much I've grown and all I have is a heart full of gratitude for these past 8 years.

Dear Women

Dear lady who judges the less active members at church,
I used to be you.
I have sat in a congregation and wondered why certain people weren't there. I have thought to myself, "If they would just pray more, read their scriptures more, etc., their testimony would be stronger and they would be here." I used to judge that they didn't have their priorities straight and that all it would take is them trying harder.

And then I became the girl who struggled going to church. I became the girl who often fought prayer at night because she didn't have the energy to recount every hard thing that had happened that day. I became the girl who was afraid to cry because she feared she wouldn't be able to stop---and prayer always brought tears.

I have learned that this isn't black and white, that my Heavenly Father understands my intentions every single night. He knows my choices and He waits patiently for when I come to Him. But He never scolds me for not showing up. He knows I am doing my best right now.

Dear mom who judges other moms for allowing their children to watch exuberant amounts of tv,
I used to be you.
Before I had children and even for a few years after having them, I made sure they didn't watch too much television. I thought moms like that were just lazy and didn't want to spend the time with their children. I vowed never to be that mom.

And then I became the mom who allowed her children to sit in front of the tv for hours on end. Although not a daily thing, on my hardest days as a single mom, I turn the television on and lay down in my bed or get homework done. I try my hardest to make the other times count, the times when the television isn't on, and I feel like for now, that's the best I can do.

I have learned that this isn't black and white, that parenting is different for everyone. There is no one right way. I have learned that parenting is hard and that no one is perfect at it. We all make mistakes...but the important thing is that we try again the next day.

Dear woman who views divorced couples as weak and selfish,
I used to be you.
There was a time when I looked down on divorced couples because of their lack of commitment. Why choose to get married and have children if you're just going to break up your family? Why not fight harder, try harder, be better?

And then I became the woman who filed for divorce. Years ago, I would've judged my choices as selfish and the thing is, maybe there is some truth to that. Maybe filing for divorce was selfish---because I was losing myself. I knew I had done everything I could do up until that point. I knew my husband wasn't coming back. I wanted relief from the pain that had been present in a lot of my marriage.

I have learned that this isn't black and white, that on the outside we might judge why a couple is getting divorced but we will never know the full story. We have not been there every second of their lives. We don't know their emotions, their pain, and their betrayal. And even to the couples who seem to get divorced when "they could've made it work", it just doesn't matter. Who are we to judge their decisions?



Life is tricky. It's messy and confusing. We have all been the judge and the judged. We all know what it feels like to wish the whole world knew our pain so they would understand why we make the choices we do.

But we aren't perfect. We all make mistakes. The best thing we can do is own our mistakes and try harder to have compassion the next time.

We may never be able to walk in someone else's shoes but we can choose to trust that they are doing the best they can with the life they're living.

Owning Our Stories

Blogging isn't always easy for me. Often times I worry about how my words will be perceived when I hit that orange "publish" button.

Owning who I am right now is scary because who I am right now is messy.

I've seen the blogs where everything seems picture perfect and many times, I've later found out that things weren't picture perfect. I try to make sure I'm not just showing you 'picture perfect' but I also don't want you to think that it's all bad or that I am always struggling.

It's a rollercoaster.

I'm currently experiencing an emotional hangover from The Togetherness Project, which was held in Phoenix over the weekend.
I felt a lot of feels this weekend. Some were highs but a lot were extreme lows. It's hard to trust life the way it currently is. It's hard to spend a weekend with friends while feeling guilty for leaving my kids after a busy week where I hardly spent time with them. Balance has been tricky and it's incredibly exhausting.

The classes at Togetherness were my favorite by far. The day was long but I was able to hear some pretty remarkable people teach and tell their stories.

I was able to meet some out of town friends that I had only cultivated a relationship with online. They came from all around, including Kansas and Alaska. Although I already knew I loved them, meeting them in person cemented those feelings much deeper. Togetherness is an interesting world. It is a place made up of women who live all different lifestyles but understand and empathize with each other. It doesn't matter what religion you are, where you live, or how you dress---Togetherness blends us all together to create an amazing group of warriors.

Enduring the addiction of a loved one is painful and hard. Often times you feel alone. You lose hope and feel discouraged that life will never get better. You may try and rescue your loved one or cut yourself off from them but no matter how you deal with it, you experience heartache.

A few years ago, this was me. I didn't even understand my feelings of anxiety back then. I didn't know why I always felt unstable in my seemingly stable marriage. It took years for all of the pieces to fall into place and when they did, I felt so alone and rejected and terrified of what the future would hold.

Togetherness changed that. I was suddenly meeting women who understood my fears and I was able to provide support for others who had felt alone.

It was beautiful. It is beautiful. 

As I fight through the despair that tries to grip my heart and diminish my faith, I am reminded that I am not alone. I am reminded that people love me. They love the things that I hate about myself. They stick around even when I struggle to believe that I am worthy of them. They are my heroes, my sisters, and my friends.

And in my life, I am blessed that they are not only the people I've met this past year. They are childhood friends and church members and neighbors and family. They surround me and pick me up when I fall to the ground.

I am truly scared of how my life will turn out. I am angry and insecure and my life feels unstable---but during these times when owning my story means telling you it's really hard, I also need to own the part where others pick up my slack. I also have to include the many times I've found others loving my children and giving them the attention that I can't always give or the people who have pulled weeds or helped with the housework I find myself struggling to accomplish.

Although I am struggling to love myself, I am so very loved. I am so very wanted on this earth and when I repeat that over and over again, it helps me to get through these times when I don't feel like I'm worthy of life.

365 Days of Divorce

 I wasn't quite sure what I expected to feel this week because the feelings I had these exact moments a year ago were quite confusing.
When the papers arrived in the mail with the date stamped February 18th, 2014, I knew what they held. In that large manila envelope was a series of paperwork, all signed and dated by a Maricopa County judge.

It was over.

Seven years of the life we had built were over.

Goodbye, commitment.

It all seemed so broken.

But I had been waiting for those papers because I wanted things to move on. I think I figured if those papers came, I could feel a sense of closure and healing.
That didn't happen. 
Instead I panicked. I turned to the comfort of my eating disorder. I started failing classes. I was full of anxiety most days. I cut off my friends and family slowly.
I didn't realize just how badly I was hurting. I didn't realize how much fear was the deciding factor in my daily choices.

This morning, I was on the computer and thinking about a year ago and the 6 months before that where the separation and lawyer meetings and fights and anger and figuring out custody were pretty much running my life. I looked up pictures from that time---I found the pictures I had uploaded 2 days before he left me. None of them had been edited or saved correctly on the computer. I don't think I had looked at them at all since sliding that memory card into the computer that day because two days later, my life was so drastically changed.

My kids seemed so little back then. I wish I could've bottled them up like this and protected them in so many ways. And then I think about it and I'm glad they've gone through it with me because my kids are some of the bravest I know. They have had to learn a lot about themselves throughout the past year and a half.

 The thing about divorce is that you and your ex-spouse are in charge of how things go.
In the beginning, these questions are started with: Who is filing the paperwork? Will you get lawyers? Who stays in the house? How often do the kids go from one house to the other? Who pays the other or is it evenly split? 
Those questions seem kind of obvious with divorce. Everyone has to figure them out.

But then there are the questions such as: What goals do we have after our divorce? Are we working together to keep our kids healthy and loved? Are we fighting in front of them? Are we going to swallow our pride and treat each other with respect? Are we going to allow the kids to be with the both of us in the same room?

 It's confusing sometimes. 
None of those questions were answered in a day. I've thought about all of them multiple times throughout this past year. I've figured out my personal boundaries and then changed them a few times to make sure I feel safe. I've prayed about my childrens' needs and tried my best to make sure they are ok. In fact, that alone has been the cause of a lot of my anxiety.

I want my children to come out of this as emotionally healthy as possible.

 And I believe they will.

Not only because of what I do for them but because of what their dad does for them. I don't need a marriage contract to know that he is a good dad. He has learned to be there for them too.

My anger toward my ex-husband has eased an incredible amount in the past year. I am working on forgiving him and I believe with the help of my Savior and His atonement, I will be able to completely heal and find my heart at peace.

 I really CAN believe it has been this long. In fact, it feels like it's been even longer. I feel like I've been single for years and I'm kind of, sort of, REALLY ready to change that.
But...God's timing is not my timing...and for today, I'm ok with that. Actually, my heart and my brain don't quite agree on what "my timing" should be anyway so I think it's best to just trust that God knows.

In the meantime, we are a year stronger and wiser. I really would never trade these past few years for anything. I know not everyone would say that and it may seem odd. It's not that I WANTED to be divorced---I didn't. But this past year has taught me just how capable I am of being on my own. I have grown up a lot and have become a much better person. I find myself looking at the entire world differently---more lovingly than I did before. I find myself realizing that sometimes the people we think are the meanest and rudest are the people who need us the most. Often times, the people not smiling are hurting inside and are longing for human connection.

Living with empathy is a much better way to live life. I wouldn't change the infertility or the divorce or the many 'disorders' I have on my medical records. Each and every time I am given something, I learn a whole slew of new things and I become a better person than I was before.

It's weird to think that I've only known about The Togetherness Project for a year because those people that I've met have been life-changing for me. It's weird to think that a year ago, I still didn't know why my marriage had ended. That came later. And although I have many days where the effects of my failed marriage haunt me, I know that I am strong enough to live with the memories and even smile when remembering some of them.

It wasn't all bad. In fact, a lot of it was good. 

Most importantly, I am grateful that it all happened. I am grateful for seven years of a marriage. I find myself learning from those experiences every day. I wouldn't change it. That took a while for me to be able to say. For a while, I blamed myself for getting married in the first place. Who does that at 19?!! (just kidding, to all of my teenage married friends) I didn't know if I could forgive myself for making what I had decided was a stupid decision.

But without my marriage, I wouldn't have my children. Without my marriage, I wouldn't have Togetherness or my ward family or the extended in-law family I was able to fall in love with for seven years. And without my divorce, I wouldn't be the person that I currently am. I probably wouldn't be pursuing a bachelors degree in Human Development and a masters degree in Counseling.

It isn't that staying married would've been horrible. It could've been amazing. We had the choice to make it amazing---and we did not both choose for that to happen.

Three hundred and sixty five days of this life---and I have faith that we will all be ok. 

Another Storm

I've endured many storms in my life. Some are big and some are small. Some are ingrained in my memory and others are forgotten.

I can remember quite well the summer I was 10. That was probably the summer I spent the most time having sleepovers with my cousins. There were 3 girl cousins my age growing up. One who lived in California and two that lived here---including a step-cousin I had met when I was 8. We spent a ton of time together that summer. My California cousin came for a visit and I can remember one night in particular during monsoon season, a storm had come into town and our power had gone out.
My cousins and I all huddled around a battery-operated night light that was my baby brother's at the time. My dad had gone outside to check the power and I was so scared. I was scared he would never come back or that our house would catch on fire or flood.

But I had my band. I had my team. My cousins kept me brave that night. I watched the shadows dance off the walls as the thunder cracked louder and louder but I knew I would be ok because I wasn't alone.

Another storm I will never forget was during my days at ANASAZI. Because I was there from June to July, I ended up enduring monsoons in the middle of nowhere---with a 8x8 tarp for protection. The first time I experienced a monsoon on the trail, I started to cry. I begged and pleaded for them to let me go home. I told them I was afraid of storms when I was in my own bed and that I couldn't possibly endure it out in the desert.
We hiked through most of it but when the sun started to go down, we built personal shelters out of our tarps and were sent to bed. This was the very first time I remember feeling completely alone during a monsoon. I sobbed under my tarp and pulled my journal out, aware that the lack of light would prove difficult. But I didn't care. I knew I needed to write. I knew writing would help.
I scribbled out most of my fears almost illegibly but the rain was still pouring and I didn't feel much better.

So I started to pray. I prayed out loud. I pleaded with God to stop the storm because I was scared. I was afraid of dying or getting hurt. I was afraid of the loneliness.

I ended my prayer and laid there for a minute, wishing that God was actually real so that He could answer my prayer.

And just like that, the rain stopped.
I could hardly believe it. I had never received an answer to prayer so bluntly before.
I pulled my journal back out and began to scribble the events of the night. I wrote, "Tonight while it was raining, I said a prayer and asked God to stop the rain because I couldn't take it anymore. And you'll never believe it! THE RAIN STOPPED! There is a God. I know He is there. I know He heard me. I felt Him tonight."

It was during ANASAZI that my testimony of prayer began to grow. I was so afraid of death and I felt like we faced so many dangerous obstacles but each time, we were lead to safety.

The storms I have faced have taught me so much about who I am and who I want to be. Some of them have knocked me off of my feet for a period of time but I've gotten up eventually.

I can see that happening with my current storm. I've been knocked down and I'm not up yet. I'm still figuring this all out and trying to repair the damage. But today something clicked. Today, on another Sunday that we were late for church because I dread sacrament meeting alone with my littles, I was listening in Relief Society about patterns becoming habits and how quickly we can become comfortable and set in our ways and I realized, I don't want to be this. I don't want to struggle to go to church. I don't want my children to get used to this example and think that it's normal that we miss the sacrament 50% of the time, sometimes more.

I may not be where I want to be. I may be struggling with this picture of my life and how it's turned out. I may still question why this has all happened in the particular timing that it has.
I will still struggle to feel like I fit in on Sundays. Some of the lessons will still cause a lot of pain in my heart. I will still feel alone and stressed out most of the time in sacrament meeting.
But it won't be this way forever. 
Because eventually, I'll figure this all out. Eventually I'll be standing taller than I've ever stood. I will face this storm and beat it.

Because I know I am capable of greatness. I know I am strong enough to endure the hard days and enjoy the good days.

Although I don't understand it all, someday I will. Someday I will be able to look back and think, "Wow. I made it through another storm."

Beautiful Heartbreak

When I was diagnosed with infertility in August of 2011, my world seemed to come crashing down. It was on that day, August 17th, that I found fear knocking on my front door.
I spent those first two months crying most of the time and shutting myself off from my friends and family. I didn't know how to be around anyone without feeling so incredibly awkward.

My mom, sisters and I headed off to Time Out for Women after one of my really hard weeks. {I blogged about that here.} I wasn't sure what I would get out of it. I wasn't sure I wanted to be there and have to see people and fake a smile.

It was at that conference, in November of 2011, that I heard Hilary Week's new song, Beautiful Heartbreak. I remember watching the video and sobbing uncontrollably next to my sister. I had already learned about the beauty of infertility. The friendships I made, the empathy and compassion I learned---in only two months, although I was struggling so much and prayed daily for another child, I knew deep down in my heart that my trial was filled with so much beauty.

Beautiful heartbreak.

Those words would genuinely become my mantra for the next 3+ years.

As each trial would hit {oddly enough it was every August for three years straight}, I would go through a period of grieving and pain but almost immediately, I could also pick out the beauty involved.

I would listen to that Hilary Weeks song on repeat, laying in bed, feeling so heartbroken and alone. I would pray that God would show me a glimpse of the beauty ahead and each time, He would. Sometimes there was so much beauty that it confused me.

I thought going through a divorce couldn't involve so much beauty mixed in with the heartache. But it could and it did.

For the past few years, my sisters and I have been trying to find a feasible way to record a cd for my parents. My mom had asked for one in the past but between finances and time, we couldn't make it happen.

This year, we decided to push forward and make it happen. At times, it didn't seem like we would get it done. It took a while to find a studio within our budget and since we have a sister who lives in Virginia, scheduling was a little tricky.

But we did it. We each recorded a solo, a duet with a sister, and 2 songs with all four of us---and a bonus track of a song we sang with my brother.

The day I went in to record all of my songs, I wasn't really that nervous. I felt good about the song I had picked and was excited to sing the other songs I'd be recording.

The first song went well. The second, third, and fourth songs I recorded went well. And then it was time for my solo. I had practiced for weeks and knew I could do it well but the second I got in the booth, my heart started pounding. I don't think it was really nerves---just emotions. I knew this song was perfect for me. I had known that for years. I wanted it to be perfectly sung but instead, it was perfectly felt.

Every time I listen to it, I remember what it felt like to sing it that day. It means so much to me to have this recording forever. It means so much to me to have the entire cd of recordings. They are all beautiful.

But this one contains more than beauty. It represents a huge part of my journey.

And although my journey is far from over, I am grateful for the beauty I have been able to witness in my life up to this point.


Some of my favorite posts about my beautiful heartbreaks:
The Tornado
My Messy Beautiful
No One is Youer than You
Bravery
Fearfully, Faithfully, Beautifully

I Am Enough

Why is this so easy to forget?

The words look so simple on paper.

You are enough.

12 letters full of truth.


I have been on a struggling roller coaster through hell lately and I'm trying to swim up for a breath of air.
It's been quieter this time, slowly seeping through the cracks of the warrior walls I've been working so hard to build. It wasn't a sudden change but I may not be telling the truth if I said it wasn't expected. I think somewhere deep down I knew my work wasn't over. Deep down, I knew I didn't believe my own recovery words.

But although my fight hasn't ended, I haven't given up. In between the really low moments, I take a deep breath and become more authentic and empathetic. I learn new things. I am able to understand more.

I find myself longing to just be home with my children and realizing just how important my life is with them in it. I find myself wanting a marriage that will last through eternity and trying to work toward whatever that will look like when the time comes. I find myself reciting affirmations in the mirror every morning when I get up.

I've come on here to write this post five different times in the past few weeks and each time I try to finish it, I am pulled away by children or I get frustrated because 'authentic me' is afraid of this blog. Authentic me doesn't know which learning experiences to share and which ones to save for face to face conversations. I'm pretty much an open book. I try to be that way because I believe God gave me experiences that can help others. I want to share my life with whomever needs to hear it. Sometimes I just struggle with what that looks like.

My life has changed so much in the past 2 years. I went from struggling to find friends to having so many friends that I want to spend my time with. I went from married to single. But most importantly, I think the reason I would never in a million years change these past few years is because of how much I've learned about life and love and happiness.

I struggle every day of my life with the thoughts that "I'll be happy once I'm married again". I thought that marriage is what made me worthy. Marriage meant somebody loved me. But although I genuinely still struggle with those beliefs, there is a part of me that knows it isn't true.

First of all, sadly, marriage does not guarantee someone loves me. A good marriage is made up of two people who are willing to be authentic with each other and strive to meet the needs of their partner. I wish I could say that is the case with all of our marriages but it isn't.

As a young 19 year old girl, I thought marriage was going to fix all of my past problems. I was marrying a returned missionary in the temple. He was supposed to be perfect. We would have five children and I would stay home while he finished school and provided for us and LIFE WOULD BE GRAND, DAMNIT! I know...it's quite laughable now. Now that I am on the other side of my fairy tale life, I can see how detrimental that kind of thinking is. Because life isn't some fairy tale and I think if we could all learn from our experiences the way I find myself learning, we wouldn't want it to be a fairy tale. 

Marriage doesn't fix problems. Ugh. Groan. Sigh...
I feel like I've heard that message a million times. Suzanne, getting married won't fix your problems. And yet, I find myself arguing, "Well, maybe marriage doesn't fix everyone's problems but surely it'll fix mine..." because I'm all sorts of stubborn and I like to argue with reality.
But the reality is that marriage doesn't fix problems. This is something that has taken me a while to really grasp. Because if marriage gives me worth, it certainly would fix half of the problems I currently have. I've fought with these ideas time and time again but what I've learned is that the above statement is true.
Although marriage can be beautiful, it isn't going to fix your problems.

This is one of the reasons I still fight for myself and my recovery. I want to be married and I know a marriage would fail or at least be much harder if I step into it still entrapped by an eating disorder. I understand that...and so I fight.
I fight for myself and for my future. 

I was talking to a friend about this the other day---about how I believe it's possible to love my life without loving myself. It seems kind of backwards. You would think if I'm not happy with who I am, I wouldn't be happy with what I have but the truth is, that is my life most of the time. I struggle to look at myself in the mirror and believe that I am enough. I spend a lot of time thinking about the "if only's". But I recognize the good all around me. My friendships, my family, my children---each one brings so much light into my life.

I want to believe that I am capable of greatness. I want to believe that I can love myself fully someday.

It has been a long journey and I expect it to continue. But I often think about the future, when I'm old and gray and am looking back on the past. I imagine it will be truly amazing to be able to see the whole picture and realize that I never gave up on myself.

Because warriors don't give up.
And I am a warrior.

Just Try Harder

I remember when I first became a stay at home mom back in 2010 and my kids were 2.5 years and 9 months old. I remember thinking to myself that I had it all.
I had a husband who was in school and working. I had gorgeous, healthy children. I had friends. I loved church.
Money didn't matter. We weren't ever rich but I didn't care. We payed our bills. We fed our children.
I was happy.
I had everything I had ever wanted.

It's been 4 years and 3 months since then. Everything has changed. Most of the things I loved don't feel existent right now.

I miss out on so many things with my children. Parties at school, playdates, moments when they just want their mom, etc. I'm not always there. I can't always be there.

I hate it.

I don't hate my job. I don't hate school. But I really, truly find myself resenting divorce because of the many changes.

A lot of the times I can get through the hard moments, trusting that there are also many beautiful moments ahead. I try to stay positive. I try to forgive and not judge and love the people around me.

But I don't always succeed. Today I didn't succeed.

Today it wasn't possible to be tough and hold back the tears like I normally do. I couldn't handle the stress.
I couldn't handle the thought of one more day where my kids would have neither of their parents at a school program to cheer them on.
And then I got a call that Ninja had an accident at school and I cried thinking about everything our divorce has put him through. He isn't as emotionally transparent as his sister but the scars are still there. The accidents and the finger-sucking and the baby talk---they are all signs that he is hurting and scared.

The guilt was weighing heavily on me. And along with the guilt, I was angry at the decisions that placed us all in this position. I thought I had let that all go or that I was at least getting better about letting it go but today it all came back.

Today it felt like a punch in the stomach.

All of these things I didn't choose that have effected my life in some of the most heart-wrenching ways just seem so unfair and messy.

When my heart feels this way, it's really hard to not question God. When everything first went down a year ago, I seriously wondered if He had made a mistake in allowing yet another hard thing into my life. Although I know He doesn't make mistakes, I still doubted my capabilities.

Let me rephrase that---I still doubt my capabilities. I do. It isn't a constant doubt but it shows up from time to time.

I used to wonder why certain people didn't seem as engaged at church or didn't attend every Sunday. I used to find myself wondering and maybe even judging people who were less active. Although I was a defiant teenager, I had never truly experienced those feelings {until this past year} and my lack of understanding caused me to think they must've not been trying hard enough.

It sounds so simple. Just try harder.

I love my church. I have a strong testimony and know that Jesus Christ died for me. But I struggle to feel like I belong. I often feel alone when surrounded by some of the most incredible people in my life who are there for me at church. I hold babies and make comments and sing hymns but it isn't always easy. In fact, a lot of the times it is really hard.

I struggle to keep my children in sacrament meeting. That has always been a challenge with my son. I try to stay patient but we usually end up in the hallways or we go late so I don't have to deal with it.

I struggle to stay in Relief Society---especially when we talk about eternal marriage or families. It is really painful to know you don't have what so many people have. It's hard to feel like people don't understand why you're single. It's hard to hear those lessons and feel like a piece of you is missing because your family is broken. You are no longer the "typical Mormon family".

I struggle to substitute in Primary callings. Because after that first hour of "heaven and hell" all I want to do is drop my kids off and breathe for two hours...and then go home and take a nap.

But I should just try harder, right? That's what I would've told myself a few years ago. I should go to church and set the example for my kids and practice more patience.

There are days I don't want to go to church. There have been moments in the past year where I've decided I wasn't going to go back. My testimony has always gotten me there but it doesn't take the struggles away.

It is possible to have a testimony and not want to go to church.

It is possible to feel an aversion to prayer or scripture study and not be a horrible Mormon.

It is.

I know what I want to teach my children. I still fight most weeks to get us all to church. But it is hard. Being a good Christian no longer looks the same way that it used to in my mind. Being a good Christian means trying---sometimes failing---but getting up and trying again. It means fighting for peace when peace seems nonexistent. It means trying to love myself the way my God loves me---and that includes not beating myself up for missing church or falling asleep without praying.

Although I often have an easier time talking about things "after the fact", I want today to be real. I am staying afloat. I am not swimming like a champion and I am not drowning. I am just struggling to float and not fall any further.

I don't necessarily doubt that we will get through this divorce and stand strong like the warriors that we are but somedays, like today, are just so hard.

I know my kids will see my sacrifices someday. I know they will understand when they are older. I'm just so done with missing out on so many things and feeling so exhausted from trying to be their mom and provide for them and giving myself time to be me.

It's probably not impossible---but it seems impossible today.

I am a Child of God

 Tonight was a night of reading old blog posts.

I was reading through the posts of when our separation began and when that separation turned into a divorce.

It was hard to read because I can remember the feelings I felt as I wrote. Even on the most uplifting posts, I know how scared I was in those moments. I know how raw those feelings were.

I read through a few posts about my kids. I was reading about how it wasn't fair for them to have to share their parents and go through these trials. I was so worried about them. Their sweetness had turned to anger and sadness that seemed to last months. Some of the ways they react to situations now are things I noticed had started after their dad left.

But I think of all the ways they've grown.

They were so little back then. I felt so guilty putting my 5 and 4 year old through a divorce. It didn't matter that we were extremely amicable in front of them or that we talked positively about each other when the other wasn't around. Scratch that, it did matter. But they could still feel the changes and the stress and the anger.

I keep thinking about how much I've learned this past year. I am a different person than I was. I am a better person than I was. I am more resilient and less judgmental.

And then I think about my babies. Physically, they look so much older than they did a year ago. But they have grown much more than that. They are different. They are wiser. They are closer to their Heavenly Father.

Often times, instead of giving my kids answers to their every day challenges, I ask what they think they should do. Then I ask them what they think Jesus would do. At ages 6 and 5, they are grasping the concept that they are children of God so strongly.
Every day, as they each leave the house for school or babysitters, I tell them, "Mommy loves you. Jesus loves you. You're a child of God."
One day, as Ninja hopped out of my car for preschool and my mind was thinking about the fact that I was running late and had a busy day ahead, all I said was, "Goodbye. I love you." and a few seconds later, he poked his head back in the car and said, "I'm a child of God, mom!"
I haven't gone a day without saying it since then.

Two days ago, my little Warrior Princess came in my room and handed me a piece of paper.

As I read the words "I have worth. I am worthy of love.", I couldn't keep myself from smiling and giving her the biggest hug.

She sees that message every day of her life when she walks in my room and for some reason, those are the only two sentences on my 'whiteboard of positive messages' she reads outloud to me almost every day.

These same messages have been on my white board for 6 months now. They all apply and help me. And in turn, they help her.

I remember the first day she read "I have worth" and asked me, "Mom, what does that mean?". I got to sit on my bed and explain to my little 6 year old what true worth is and where it comes from.
I pray every night that she always remembers.

We aren't a perfect family. They are not perfect children. I am far from being a perfect mother. But I don't think perfection is the ultimate goal on earth. Perfection is something we attain when Christ makes up where we fall short.

Every day, I try to become like my Savior and every day when I fall short, He sends me reminders that I am still worthy of Him. I always will be. Whether He has to make up 10% or 80% for me, He still loves me.

I'm so proud of my children. I am proud that I am their mother and that we are together for eternity. I am proud of the choices they make and the love they show toward other people.
I love who they are. I love being able to witness who they are becoming.