Are you there?

So even after all these years of blending our families, Shawn and I still don’t have this marriage thing all figured out. There are times when we struggle with trust issues. Trust is one of—if not—THE MOST important foundation of a healthy marriage, yet one so hard to build after it has eroded.

We still struggle monthly, weekly, daily—even by the hour at times— trusting one another, trying to heal from the trust that has been broken—and often times its not even by the person in front of us.

So we found ourselves on that path again last night, and what could have—and should have—been a relatively easy conversation . . . turned into a fear driven insecurity fest. One of us defending . . . one accusing . . . neither one healing. We were getting nowhere, and fast.

Soon, I gave up and shut down—all the while sitting in my silence, wishing he would just see the truth. I took a break from my frustrations and said a little prayer—at first asking God to change Shawn’s heart, help him to see things MY way.

After my prayer I secretly waited and hoped for the apology I felt I deserved, but soon I found myself telling him all the reasons I loved him—all the things I—had and—was always going to do to protect our marriage, and then asked him if he ever prayed for clarity when trust issues were clouding his view.

He said, “It doesn’t really matter anyway . . . God doesn’t ever hear me. He doesn’t answer MY prayers.” There it was. His fear was that God not only didn’t answer his prayers, but He didn’t even hear them.

A statement I knew in my heart was a lie.

I looked into his big blue eyes and said, “So I want you to think about something . . .

For the past few months Bostyn has been begging for a hamster. And for months we have been saying no. Once Christmas lists started being made—talk of the hamster only increased. It was the only thing she wanted for Christmas. She even spent hours researching facts about hamster breeds and their care—and presented her case in an informal debate against you. Even after all of that . . . we still said no. But then she just kept asking and asking and asking. Each moment of begging, breaking you down a little more until yesterday you went out and bought her an early Christmas present and had it all set up to surprise her when we got home. Not because you wanted a hamster, but because you listened to a little girl who you finally saw as ready for the responsibility— and the blessing— of owning her own pet.

I don’t think prayer is much different. Not that we have to break Heavenly Father down . . . but we do have to show him our willingness to work hard, research, look at all the options, and consistently show him that we are humble enough to keep asking for what we want—and that we have righteous desires we know He can help us achieve. But we can’t do any of it without His help.

And just like us—He is a parent who wants to help His children find happiness. And though I don’t know that buying Bostyn a hamster makes us good parents, . . . I do know that today we listened to one of her desires. But how many times did she have to tell us how important it was to her—before we really took her seriously? 100? If you want answers . . . or blessings, or to overcome struggles, you have to keep asking. He might not send the answer the first 10 or 100 times you ask . . . but I know when you are ready, He will bring you the answers you need to feel peace.”

Prayer is real. It is a direct communication we can have with our Creator. It is a gift we were given way before we came here. And it is—without a doubt—a two-way conversation. So if you have tried it—and didn’t hear back, don’t give up just yet. You might have a few more times to try before your true humility shows through.

Prayer is not something we can do with the expectation of a certain outcome—it is an act of faith that we perform to show God we trust His timing, and we need His help. It is an act of humility—letting go of any pride that we think we can do this life on our own.

Fear is the opposite of faith. Trust issues are fears—of the past and future—brewed together creating chaos. The antidote to fears of the past and future—is faith in the present—faith in the plan that got you here.

So make today count—and never stop asking God for His hand in your life. It might just surprise you what path He has in store . . . to lead you back to Him.

Happy Thanksgiving from our crew (that are all growing way too fast)...

No Excuses

A few months ago we had a landscape designer draw out a vision of what we wanted our yard to one day be. She drew up a rough draft and printed out a large copy to go over and discuss different options of layout and plant ideas. We spent hours going over all the choices and picking out exactly what plants I wanted and where. Shawn said he had no opinion and let me take the reins and design the yard how I wanted it to look. Down to the smallest bush I had it all planned out in my mind. She printed out a few copies of the final draft and dropped them off at our house.

Weeks went by and we finally had picked out a few landscapers to get us bids. A few of them asked for the plans and we freely passed them out. A landscaper was hired and he began his work. Flowerbeds were framed and the day finally came that the plants were being installed.

I looked outside to admire their work, but to my surprise none of the plants I had picked out in our final design were anywhere to be found. I freaked. I ran outside and started demanding answers. The landscaper reassured me that he had done exactly what the plans had stated he should do. He grabbed the sheet and started showing me line by line how his purchases matched our design plan.

I looked closer at the paper and there was handwriting all over it. Then it dawned on me . . . he was given the wrong set of plans. Somehow he was handed the designer's first copy of her purposed ideas. Nowhere on his paper were the hours of work and choices I had made. Nowhere on his paper was my plan. 

I began demanding he replant everything and start over. I ran inside and grabbed a fresh copy of the final design to show him how I wanted it. He reassured me he was sorry we had given him the wrong copy, but that he was unable to return the purchased plants and would not be able to redo my yard.

Deflated I ran to my room and into my closet. I sobbed . . . about plants. I fell to my knees and cried out, “Just one time . . . I can’t just have this one plan work out how I designed it? Really. It is just plants. Why can’t they be the ones I had spent all that time and thought on how I wanted them? Why can’t I just catch a break? What was so wrong with my plan?”

I called Shawn and let it rip. I told him of the tragedy that had just taken place and the upset I was raging in. He tried to calm my anger and reassured me that it would be amazing. He told me how excited he was to come home and see how great it was going to be.

I hung up the phone and at first I was ticked that he wasn’t just as mad as me, but as I sat there in my frustration an all-too-well-known feeling entered my heart and I was almost embarrassed I had been sobbing about a few plants. Oh Ashlee . . . you and your plans. When are you going to stop basing your happiness on YOUR plan and just enjoy life as it comes?

I looked around my closet, hoping no one had been hiding in there viewing my big baby fit. The coast was clear—it was just me and my bull headedness to wipe away my sulky tears.

Soon I had let it go. My yard was not going to look like it had in my mind—but I could still be happy. I could choose to look at the new plan as a failure and become bitter about a few plants, or I could let go of my plan and enjoy the one that had become.

Life is full of plans. Each big moment that comes is given a set of expectations on what we perceive it to be. Usually without a thought that it might not be perfect, we almost set ourselves up to fail with an unrealistic view of each one of our moments to go exactly according to the plan we have created in our minds.

And its not just the big days . . . it is every day.

I remember one of those days—Bostyn and Bailey’s baptism (May 2013). Their eighth birthday had just passed and they made the decision to be baptized. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The girls looked amazing. We entered the church early to get them ready— they each had a skip to their step. The few family members we invited began to arrive and the chapel filled with love with each embrace.

Soon it was the girls' turn to go into the baptismal room and step into the water. We had determined that Bailey was to go first—since of course . . . she was six minutes older. She walked into the water on one side of the font—Shawn entered from the other—they met in the middle with a smile.

Soon Bailey was dripping wet from head to toe. I hurried her into the bathroom as to get her dressed quickly so we could go out and watch Bostyn take her turn.

In the middle of zipping up Bailey’s dress I heard the water splash and soon the dressing room door slowly opened—it was Bostyn . . . she was soaking wet. My heart sank. I ran over and knelt down, staring into her big blue eyes. I said, “Bostyn . . . did you . . . already go? I . . . how did I miss it? . . . I thought . . . I thought they were going to wait for Bailey and me to come back out and watch you? They didn’t wait for us? We missed it? How . . . I didn’t . . . I didn’t know. I didn’t know I was going to miss it.  I have no excuse. I just . . . I just didn’t know. I am so sorry. I am so sorry.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She cried, “Mom . . . how did you miss it . . . you were right there. I thought . . . we thought . . . you were waiting for me too.  I thought you were watching. You missed it Mom. You missed it.” She threw her wet arms around me and sobbed. She whispered, “You missed it, and so did . . . so did . . . you both missed it.”

I had failed.

I didn’t know what to say. I had missed my daughter’s baptism—her mom, and her twin sister hadn’t been there to see. There was nothing I could do to make it right—nothing I could say to fix what had been done. My heart was broken for my little girl. I felt as though I had given her another loss in her life—I hadn’t protected her like she deserved.

My throat burned and I choked back my emotions. Fears of the past flooded my mind—I was filled with that powerless feeling of not being able to control the disappointments and losses my children would have to face, that vulnerable emotion of realizing I couldn’t control my plan. Her sobs were not just a reminder of how I didn’t watch her get baptized—her tears flashed memories through my mind of the past years that had shown me I would not be enough to prevent her from feeling pain. I felt hopeless and powerless—and like one of the worst parents on the face of the earth.

She was hurting—and it was my fault.

The rest of the day I spent internally feeling sorry for Bostyn . . . and myself. A silent internal pity party was raging, while everyone else celebrated a grand day. I was embarrassed I hadn’t been there for her. A day that was supposed to feel so exciting and joyful started to feel like another epic fail. I smiled for all the pictures, and interacted with all the family . . . but a huge pit in my stomach reminded me of the failure I had been for Bostyn.

It wasn’t until later that evening I was taught a great lesson by my eight-year-old daughter— it was then that I saw the true purpose of that day.

All the other kids were tucked in bed. I walked into Bostyn and Bailey’s room to give them one last kiss and wish them sweet dreams. They were both writing in their new journals. Bostyn set hers on the nightstand and gave me a kiss. I said, “Bostyn, I am . . . I am so . . . so sorry I wasn’t there watching you when you got baptized today. I can’t imagine how that felt for you. I love you and I would have never meant to miss this important choice you made. I am so proud of you and all the wonderful decisions you are making in your life. You are an amazing little girl and I am so sorry I let you down today. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so much.”

Quietly she opened up her journal and handed it to me. I began to read.

Me and Bailey got baptized today. Lots of family came to see us get baptized. I got to wear a beautiful dress. Daddy Shawn baptized me. I love him. When I got baptized mom had already left to help Bailey get dressed. She missed it. She didn’t see me get baptized, and neither did Daddy Emmett. They both missed it. I was really sad it happened that way. I didn’t ever think both of them would miss my baptism. I always thought they would be there. I got lots of gifts today. This journal, a necklace, and a bunch of other things. But the greatest gift I received today was the gift of the Holy Ghost.  What really matters is that Jesus knows I made the right choice and He was there. I don’t have anything to be mad about. I got the greatest gift.

How great it is to behold everything you want your children’s life to hold . . . in one precious little paragraph. The dark fog that had engulfed me all day finally dispersed, and tears of joy fell off my cheeks.

Another moment where my greatest teacher was one who had been sent to me . . . to learn.

No excuses. Just love.

Bostyn had a list of things she could have dwelt on that day. She could have made the choice to be angry at me, at Emmett . . . or at God. But instead she saw the light. She saw the beautiful things that surrounded her—and didn’t hold onto the failures that had tried to bring her down. She pushed away the excuses to be bitter—and became better.

My testimony of many truths grew stronger in that moment—the greatest in my daughter and her evident love for her Heavenly Father and her brother Jesus Christ.

What do we believe? What is it that strengthens us when others might fall? Where do we turn when life gets hard? For some of us it is a TV show, or inspirational quotes. Some turn to exercise or spending money. Some turn to virtual realities, others can’t seem to find life in any reality. Some of us turn towards our families—others run away. Some of us turn to addictions—others fight to be free from them. Some of us get angry and loud—others stop interacting altogether. Some of us turn to another person to give us strength—a spouse’s praise . . . or our mother watching us as we make a big life decision.

Sometimes our search for support leaves us feeling isolated and alone. In those moments of feeling desperate we search for light in any form—even many times grabbing onto darkness disguised as hope. We seek for something to hang on to—because inside we do not feel like we can make it on our own.

I am starting to learn that life isn’t about how much light we can borrow from someone or something else—or our false comfort in our own plan—it is about how much light we can gain for ourselves through God’s plan.

Bostyn was at a crossroad. She could have felt alone. She could have easily felt forgotten or picked on. She could have questioned her decision to get baptized and wondered why Heavenly Father had let her down.

The possibilities for excuses were there—they always are.

Every day is going to present us with some sort of crossroad. Each moment will present us with an excuse, a reason to be the exception, or an easier road. It is up to us—which way we choose to go. God has a plan for each of us . . . but has given us the freedom to choose His way, or our own plan. Either way we will have a final destination, but if our goal is to be with Him in the end—we have to choose Him now.

Just like Satan—if we get too caught up in our own plan—our pride will keep us from the true plan of happiness. It wasn’t the goal of the end result that got Satan to fall . . . it was his love for his own plan. (A temptation he tries to use on me often.) His initial goal was just like ours: to get to live with God forever . . . but because of his stubbornness in his own plan, he gave up the end goal all together.

Our end goal has to be what keeps our faith in HIS plan. Without excuse, and without pride we can, and will, make it through anything even stronger. With a Heavenly brother as our greatest advocate when we pray—and one coming to us as a still small voice to answer our prayers—we can make it through everything we are asked to endure. In the name of Jesus Christ, and through the gift of the Holy Ghost, we can have our own communication with our Heavenly Father. We don’t need any other earthly person, or thing—just a willing heart and an open mind—to receive His divine personal revelations.

This course of testing—we call life—works perfectly for us to prove our eternal love for our Eternal Father. At the end of it all He won’t have to wonder where we belong  . . . because we will have shown Him every day.

So those moments—when you want to run to your closet and scream, “Uncle . . . I give up, I can’t take any more. Can’t I just get one break? Can’t I just have it easy this one time? What is so wrong with MY plan?”—those are the defining moments for each of us. The plan was always for us to be tested often to make sure we remembered Him. It is not because we aren’t grateful or we are unworthy—but because He loves us that much. As we show Him we choose His plan—even when presented with an excuse not to—He sees that we love Him. He loves us so much He gives us opportunities to remember Him and rely on his grace. He loves us enough to make sure we are among the crowd gathered at His feet—praising His plan and the ability it gave us to strive to not only be like Him . . . but to be with Him forever.

Our daily trials—our losses and our pains—are not just to keep us humble . . . they are gifts and opportunities for us to show that we choose grace to get us through. Sometimes we don’t turn to Him until our spiritual crutches are taken away. If Bostyn would have had the day she had always planned, with Emmett and me by her side . . . I honestly don’t believe she would have fought to see what the greatest gift was. It wasn’t until she stood at the crossroad—alone—and choose better over bitter that she could see the true purpose of her baptism day. Without someone else telling her how great her decision was, she was blessed to receive that still small voice telling her it was right. It was then that she was able to receive her own inspiration straight from her Father in Heaven.

When the chips are down, and the sky is dark . . . where are you? Are you searching for the love of man to lift you up, or are you seeking for the grace of Jesus Christ to set you free?  

Life is going to try to bring us down. Take it from a little eight-year-old girl who has lost much—some days will be a reminder of the pain of those failures—but we still have things to be grateful for.  Happiness is ours to CHOOSE. Even with a million excuses—we can use our pain to become better. We don’t have to be bitter. We can choose to remember we are not alone. Even when others let us down, there is One who is pleading for us to remember Him.

I am grateful for a daughter, who despite her many excuses to fall . . . has shown me even more reasons to stand.

Maybe you are running to your closet to cry about plants—maybe you just realized no one was watching when you thought that they would . . . You aren’t alone. We have all been there. But those plants . . . they will be beautiful. That life . . . it will be worth it. Don’t give up. Do not let yourself quit because of a few ugly bushes that look like they came straight from the 70’s. Your plan has not failed . . . it is not over—just different.

Not one of us is living our perfect plan, but each of us can—without exception—live the one that was written for us. No excuses—just a lot of life. Make it count. The greatest gifts aren’t those that come with ease—they are the ones that come when we turn to Him—without excuses—but filled with hope in His plan.  

Stories and thoughts for children grieving: 

Standing Strong Together 

Born to Fail

Life began to feel normal for a minute. Shawn and I grew closer, and for a time the past seemed to be so far behind me. I started to enjoy some of the things I had enjoyed before the tragedy.

One day, Shawn came home with a gym membership for me. I was excited because a few days after the shooting, I had cancelled the gym passes for me, Emmett, and ironically, Kandi. I had not spent much time at the gym earlier, but I had loved the convenience of being able to go there for some down time at night. So having a new membership to a new gym was exciting. I was grateful for the gift.

For a while, I went to the gym off and on randomly. Then one week, I really got into it and went several nights in a row. It felt amazing to be moving my body in a way I hadn’t since long before Tytus was born. It was relaxing and soothing to turn on my video iPod and lose myself in a movie while exercising. I started a movie, which I then continued watching the next day from where I had left off the night before. On the third day, I finished that movie and the next film in my collection began. I didn’t think much of it as the opening song began, and I soon found myself walking on the treadmill to P.S. I Love You!  It was a movie I had seen with Emmett for the first time, and one which I had also watched alone not long after his death.

I felt I should turn it off, knowing my emotions might get the best of me, but I kept watching it anyway. It sucked me in. After my time on the treadmill came to an end, I headed to the mats to stretch. I didn’t take my eyes off the screen as I silently did my stretches with the earphones in my ears. As time passed, I was no longer stretching, but was engulfed in the movie.  Subtle tears fell down my cheeks as I became more and more enmeshed in the emotion of the film’s message. The main character in the movie had so much in common with me, and yet our stories were so different. She knew exactly what it was like to be a widow, but she also had the knowledge I longed to have: she knew her husband deeply loved her as he took his final breath. She didn’t have all the feelings of regret and betrayal that I still carried, stored inside every part of my soul. When she looked back to the past, she longed to hear her husband’s voice repeating the words of love he had uttered in his last days, while I longed for my husband’s unspoken apology.

My mind traveled back in time to the “P.S I love you!” moment I had experienced in the Walmart parking lot after buying flowers to decorate Emmett’s grave. I almost resented the movie for reminding me of all the other times I hadn’t received such a validation. In my frustration, I realized there was no point staying at the gym to work out because I was wasting my time on thoughts and movies that did nothing for me. I looked at my phone. It was getting late, and I figured I better head for home.

I turned off the movie, secretly hoping to return to it the next time I came back to the gym, but also realizing I shouldn’t do that to myself again. I threw my iPod into my bag and dug around for my keys. I started to stand up to head toward the stairs and something caught my eye. It was a woman who looked really familiar. She looked like she was probably a few years older than me and she was talking to a younger guy, probably in his mid-twenties. He had on a wedding ring and so did she, but it was clear from their conversation that they weren’t married to each other.

I sat there watching in shock as they flirted back and forth with each other. Did she know he was married? Was he aware that she was taken? My blood began to boil. I threw down my bag and pretended to be stretching again. I listened to them for a few minutes and became sick to my stomach. I burst into tears, and silently turned the other way. An inappropriate relationship was taking place just a few feet from me, and there was nothing I could do about it! It was almost as if I was frozen in that corner, unable to get up to spare myself from watching the disgusting scene. From the way the blood boiled in my veins, it was as if I were watching Emmett and Kandi. I wanted to walk up to the man and grab his face, as I had Emmett the night he was killed, and scream all the things I still longed to yell at him. “You have a wife . . . go home . . . and find out what it is about her that you are not seeing. Turn around and walk away from here. Don’t give into this temptation! Go home and show your family all the reasons you choose them!”

I didn’t ever say a word, but huddled in my corner sobbing for a woman who was sitting at home, probably cooking his favorite food, wondering if he would be coming home that night. I shed tears for any babies that man was forgetting as he was being swept away by another woman’s charms.

The irrational part of my brain kept begging me to go over and remind him of all the paths this choice could lead him to, but in an effort to keep myself safe, I remained silent. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the woman’s angry husband waiting around the corner.

Soon, I couldn’t take any more torture and I grabbed my bag and ran past them, around the corner, down the stairs, and out to my car. Once inside the car, I sobbed like I had never sobbed before. I cried for all the husbands and wives who have ever felt betrayed. I wept for the heartache that their insecurities could make them believe. I prayed for all the spouses who had been duped into thinking they could live their lies in both lives and not have it affect anyone else. I cried for all the families who had been destroyed because of one partner’s decisions. I cried for my own soul that still sought peace from the pain my husband’s infidelity had brought me. I cried for my babies, who I yearned to protect from hearing the ugly details of the truths from their past. I cried for all the wives, husbands, and children who had felt broken. Yes, I cried for my own family . . . but mainly, I cried for our world.  

And that is when the fear set in . . . What if that man had been Shawn? What if all men were the same? What if no matter who I was married to, the ending would always be the same? What if Shawn cheats on me, and one day finds himself dead in a parking lot? What if all marriages are doomed to fail, and I couldn’t survive another one? What if this crazy life I asked Shawn to share with me becomes too much for him and he turns to someone else for comfort? What if I was born to fail?

It was as if a small match had ignited and turned into a raging forest fire, and my hallucinations reached the point of insanity. I sat in the parking lot for a good twenty minutes trying to figure out which way was up.

By the time I got home, it was late. I didn’t say much to Shawn as we turned in for the night and went to sleep.

In my dreams that night, I found Shawn and Kandi in my bed. I woke up in a cold sweat, hardly able to breathe. The next morning, my mind still lingered on the thoughts that had overcome me the night before. I was almost mad at Shawn for the acts he had preformed in my dreams, and just looking at him made me feel angry . . . like he had actually done something wrong.

As he was about to leave for work, he finally questioned my coldness. “Hey . . . are . . . are you okay? You haven’t said much this morning, and I . . . I am worried about you. You doing alright?” I broke. “It was just . . . I had a dream . . . and you and . . . her . . . and I am so mad at you . . . and Kandi . . . you and her . . . were in our bed . . . and I am just disgusted with you this morning for being everything that Emmett was.”

No harsher words had ever been spoken between us. He stared at me and said, “Ash, I’m sorry about your awful dream, but I am not Emmett. I am never going to be Emmett. I am sorry you had that dream, but it isn’t fair for you to hold something against me that isn’t even real. It’s not my fault that Emmett did what he did, and I don’t deserve to be punished for his actions. You have to learn to trust me. Hopefully, some day you will see that not all men are going to cheat.”

I apologized for snapping at him, but in the back of my mind, I was still really mad . . . not specifically at Shawn, but at men in general.

The feeling of disgust I felt towards men lingered with me throughout the morning and by early afternoon, I was again on the verge of a meltdown. I needed answers to the past to try to figure out how to let go of it. I picked up my phone and called the Attorney General’s office to ask a few questions.

We set up an appointment and the next morning, I was driving down to meet her at her office. The whole way there, I could barely swallow because my mouth was so dry. I checked in at the front desk and received a visitor’s name badge. Then, someone escorted me into her office.

I sat down, still fighting back tears. The lump in my throat felt like a hot coal. She asked about the kids, and how we were all doing. I replied with basic answers. She finally got to the point. “Okay, you said on the phone you had a few questions you needed answered. I can’t promise I can answer all of them, but I am willing to try.”

Then out they came, with very few breaths in between. “Well, I am just struggling with a few things. It still doesn’t make any sense. Where did it all begin? With Emmett . . . I mean . . . Was she the only one, or is there any proof that there were other women? Are they sure there was an actual affair or is it just a suspicion? Did it all start out with a porn addiction . . . or was this just a one time thing to further his career? I just . . . it doesn’t make any sense. Why wasn’t I enough for him? Did you find that . . . Did you find any letter that maybe he wrote to Kandi, saying that he just wanted me? Was there evidence as to why he would choose her . . . and not . . . and not us? Was there anything that showed that he knew . . . that he had made a mistake? Did he have other women? Were there other affairs? Do you have any answers for me that can help me let go of all the things I don’t know? I’m trying to figure out how to trust and love again, and I can’t even begin to understand how it all went wrong the first time. And am I just destined to fail again? . . . I wonder that because I don’t even know where it all went wrong . . . and I don’t know when I stopped being enough. And I don’t know how to be enough . . . without figuring out why I wasn’t enough for Emmett.”

By then, I was sobbing uncontrollably, hoping that she was able to understand even a single word of all the words I spewed out. She also had tears in her eyes. I could see that she could feel my pain, and it was apparent that she truly cared about my plight.

I received a lot of answers that day—none which helped increase my trust in men—but many that helped me see that Emmett had been struggling more, and to a greater extent, than I had ever imagined.

There were some facts I learned that did comfort a part of my heart that day. Emmett talked about me a lot in emails. He spoke highly of me to many of his friends. He bragged about the kids. Our attorney told me that day that she truly believed he adored me and loved our children, and that is why he fought so hard to protect us from his secrets. It didn’t change much about our past, but it did brighten my spirits about myself a bit.

Emmett’s soul must have been so tormented. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted, but at the same time, he had no idea. He wanted the life he had created with us, and yet something inside of him was pulling him away from us. He walked down dark roads in his journey, but he also did so much good along the way. But where had it begun? Where was I going to find the facts that helped it all make sense?

I walked out of that office with a lot of the answers I had gone in to seek, and yet . . . I knew nothing. I still didn’t know how to let it all go. I still had no clue as to how I could move past the urge to despise and hate, not only everyone else . . . but myself. I wanted nothing more than to be able to move forward, but my soul was tormenting me by hanging on to the past and the pain that past had caused me.

I never went back to that gym again. Months passed and Shawn continued to patiently pay the monthly fee until the period of my contract had expired. Though he will never understand the struggles I have faced, he has been understanding in those moments when I got lost in them.

To anyone who has ever wondered where to turn when the days get hard, to everyone who has questioned if they are enough, I can promise you that you are not alone in your battle. Searching for answers in the past may not change the future, but it can give you a perspective as to where the problems all began. In my case, I felt that learning where it had all begun to go wrong would help me stop holding all men hostage for the mistakes made by one man. But I didn’t find the answers to those questions, and I still had to learn to move forward.

To anyone who is looking for happiness in the wrong places . . . Stay true to the promises you have made. If you are trapped in a corner feeling yourself slip, get out of that corner! You do not have to go down those paths that will destroy your family, or the life you are living. You do not have to battle with the torment that will lead you astray from everything you have created, or which you hope to have one day. Having an affair may seem like a quick fix to the troubles you are facing, but it will not take away or change those troubles. It may seem like an easy road compared to the one you are on now . . . but I can promise you, that lie will only last so long.

When we come to those crossroads . . . those moments when we decide to continue on the path we are on, or to start down a new one . . . that is the time when we have to make certain that all the “doors” of the past have first been shut. All the relational “doors” behind me had been slammed shut by other people, and it was difficult for me to open new doors when the doors of the past had been locked and prevented me from finding the answers I sought.

Other crossroads are even more critical. The man and woman at the gym that day . . . they were at a different kind of crossroad. They were at a moment of decision. They still had “doors” open in their lives, but they were toying with the idea of opening new ones. 

In relationships, and especially in marriage, we cannot open more than one door at a time. We were not meant to have secret doors that we have to hide from our loved ones, and I am sure that anyone who has them, has found their own personal torment in that secret.

If you find yourself in that moment when you are thinking about opening a “door” without first shutting the one behind you . . . please step away for a minute. Think about first time you kissed your husband; ponder on the first time your wife held your hand. Picture the day when you knew for certain you wanted to plan your life around that person. Think about the commitments you have made. Before you reach for that handle for the new and exciting “door”, pray to remember all the reasons you opened the first door to begin with.

Maybe you will find that you need to go home and shut and lock door number one, but maybe you will just remember all the reasons that door was worth loving and fighting for. Maybe you will even see why that door should always be your one and only.

There is not always going to be a tomorrow. Live today with your whole heart. Turn to the people who are waiting at home with your favorite meal just for you. What if today was your last chance to show them you care; what if tomorrow never comes? Now is your time to live true to the relationships in your life. Today is the day to stand up to those choices that will bring you down. Walk a little taller, choose a little more wisely, and let go of the torment that is blinding your path.

Everything begins somewhere, including secrets. Every life has a beginning and an ending. Every relationship has a beginning, but it does not have to end. With love and hard work, relationships can last forever. We were not created to fail. Maybe your past has proven that theory wrong, but it doesn’t mean it is. My marriage to Emmett didn’t have to determine who I was going to be as a wife, and it did not mean that Shawn was going to succumb to the same trials.

Each of us is unique. Maybe you have been hurt in your past. Maybe you have learned to withhold your trust from anyone and anything. Don’t spend your life blocking out everyone because of a fear of failure. Maybe you have lost or maybe you have loved and received nothing in return. Don’t stop. Love is powerful. It has no end and no beginning.

For everyone who has lost at love . . . you are not alone. Don’t spend your life dwelling on it . . . because that will not bring it back. You may not ever learn where the destruction began, but you can start again. Begin a new chapter. Losing love does not mean that you lost your ability to do it.

Whenever you find your self crying in your car for the world, remember that the world is only as strong and as good as each one of us in it. We do not have to fail. Even if our marriages don’t last, people around us die, or a dream we were living ends . . . it doesn’t mean we have failed.

I wish I would have known back then what I have now learned, which is that we were born for greatness. Greatness doesn’t come through ease and perfection. Greatness comes as we stand tall when others do not. Greatness comes to us as we get back up when we fall. Greatness isn’t born . . . it is made. Greatness is found as we stand tall . . . but sometimes even more when we walk away.

If you find yourself standing at a crossroad today, don’t take the wrong path because you have come to believe that you were born to fail. No one was sent to earth to fail. We are here to find out who we were before we came, and who we can become, and where it is we want to be when we die.

 Maybe the past has let you fall, but the only time you fail . . . is when you believe you cannot get back up and start again.  You were born to stand. Stand tall and stand true . . . you were born for greatness. 

Walk away

Kandi Hall . . . I had met her many times. She had held my baby and apparently been on dates with my son. She had willingly and with perfect knowledge defiled my family. She had slept with my husband. My anger toward her was boiling. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't stew about what I would say to her if given the chance. Every time I was driving in the car, I would internally rehearse the conversation I would have with her. I knew our paths would cross eventually. It was inevitable. We lived in a fairly small town, and our houses were only a few miles apart. I had many friends tell me they saw her here or there, or that they were in line behind her at the grocery store. It was going to happen . . . and I was going to be prepared. 



Well, that day inevitably came. I craved it like a lion craves its prey. I dreaded it, and yet I needed it to be. I felt it coming every day for a week. Everywhere I went, I could feel her getting closer. I searched stores for her and checked the driver of every car I passed.

Tiffanie called that week and said she was on her way to our house, and that Shawn and I needed to make hotel reservations so she could come and spend time with the kids. In other words, she was kind enough to realize that we needed some newlywed alone time.

It was fun having a weekend to get away and not think about parenting, or any of the daily tasks that occupied so much of our time together . . . or the trial. It was like a two-day-long date, which made up for the months we had hardly been alone for a second.

While on our getaway, Shawn and I were out for lunch, watching the big Boise State football game at THE RAM. We hadn’t been there long and hadn’t even gotten our food yet. I was looking around for a bathroom, and as I turned to look in the other direction . . . there she was. She was walking into the restaurant with a friend. She looked exactly the same as she did the last time I had seen her at Emmett’s office, and she was smiling as if nothing in her life had ever gone wrong.

I flipped around and almost screamed at Shawn, “She’s here!” He looked over his shoulder and let out a few swear words. Both of us huddled down in our chair in shock. I started shaking and hyperventilating. My whole body went cold and limp. I couldn’t breathe. Once again, it felt just like the detectives were sitting on my leather couch telling me the whole story of my husband’s murder. Her, him . . . the affair. My chest stopped working and my heart tried to stop beating.

Shawn rubbed my back as my panic attack took over. I was so light-headed, I thought I was going to pass out. How was this real? As much as I had craved the chance to give her a piece of my mind, how was I going to spew it out if I couldn’t even breathe?

Shawn put his arm around my shoulder and whispered into my ear. Over and over again he said, “It is going to be okay, Ash. Breathe . . . everything is okay. I am right here. I promise I will protect you. Breathe. Please take a breath. Be calm, Ashlee. I am right here. You are okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Breathe.”

With the help of Shawn’s words, I calmed down enough to take a full breath. I leaned into him and said, “Shawn, I have been waiting for this. I will be right back.” I got up to go confront her and Shawn grabbed my arm. “Ash . . . this isn’t the time. Your anger at Kandi is not going to change anything, and your going over there in this restaurant is NOT going to end well. Please, let’s just leave and forget that we even saw her.”

I looked him in the eyes, my body still shaking. “Shawn,” I replied, “I have been waiting for this opportunity every single day. I have rehearsed in my mind exactly what I’d say. I have been given this chance, and I am not about to let it pass. She has to hear what she has put me through. She needs to hear about the pain my children have endured. She needs to know exactly what I think about her, and about what her selfishness has done to my family. She just got seated across from us in this restaurant, and I’m going to take that as a sign that she needs to hear about all the emotions and pain in my heart. I am not leaving here until every word of it is said today.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Ashlee. I love you. I can’t imagine what you are going through, but I don’t think you should do this. However, I am here for you and I support you.”

I was still trembling, uncertain about what I should do. “Shawn, I am going to go into the bathroom, but I promise you, I’m coming back out and I’m going to let her have it. She deserves this, and I deserve to give it to her.”

I went into the bathroom without her having seen me. I ran into the stall, hoping to let my tears out so I wouldn’t break down in front of Kandi. But no tears came. All I felt was anger. I prayed for the words to say, the words that had been storming around in my mind since the day of the murder. I whispered out loud the pleas of my heart. “Heavenly Father, I know that I need to forgive this woman who has wronged me, and yet . . . my entire body is shaking because of all the hate I feel for her. Because of her, Emmett stepped out on me. Because of her, Father, I was made a widow. Because of her, I have had many sleepless nights, sometimes because of the taps on my shoulder from my children paralyzed by their own fears. Because of this woman, I have felt immeasurable pain and heartache; and because of her . . . Emmett got shot. And today she is here before me, and she needs to be held accountable for all the pain I hold in my heart. This is my chance. This is a gift I’ve been given to let her know of all the wrongs she has done to my family and me. Please give me the words to say and the power to address everything she needs to hear. Please let me have this chance to put her in her place. I need this moment to help me heal. I have craved it every day. She needs to hear the words that have built mountains inside of my heart. Please let me have this moment today.”

In the silence of my bathroom stall, I didn’t receive the peace I thought would come about my proposed plan of action. The only feeling that came to my heart was, “Ashlee BE STILL. She didn’t care then, and anything you say now won’t change a thing. She will not be affected by your pain.”

I almost stomped my foot in rebellion. “No . . . please. I need this! I need to scream and slam things on the table. I need to tell everyone in this restaurant of the heartache she has caused my family. Please. I am going to go out there, and I need to let this out, so I can let it go.”

Nothing. Silence.

I had made up my mind, and regardless of the impressions I’d received . . . I knew I would regret it if I just walked away from her.

So, I marched myself out of the stall. I was not going to let this chance pass me by. This woman had to hear from me about the mess she had made, and I wasn’t about to spare anyone’s feelings, including Shawn’s.

I walked over to her table and our eyes locked. Her friends began to laugh. Kandi had a look of fear on her face, but there was also a defiant look of "you can’t hurt me!" She didn’t say a word. We just continued to stare at each other.

Chills covered me; Shawn said he could see my heart beating in every vein of my body. I have never felt so much fear, sadness, anger, hatred, and pure disgust in my entire life as I felt as I stared at the woman who had not only slept with my husband, but whose husband had shot bullets into the head and heart of my children’s father.

Just staring. A minute went by. Shaking, staring. Just as I felt in the bathroom, I realized that this woman didn't care about me. I felt hopeless as I stared into her eyes and saw nothing in return. Still staring . . . waiting for the words I thought she might say; hoping to release all the pain I held . . . waiting for her words.

Nothing. Silence.

I threw my hands up in the air, and without a word I turned back toward my table. Shawn—patiently waiting and hoping that I would finally take a breath—had our food all boxed up and ready to go. He grabbed the bags and motioned for me to follow him. I did not take my eyes off of Kandi the entire way out of the restaurant. I walked away with all those words I had scripted out in my mind still stored in my heart.

Forgiveness was walking away.

All the words in the world weren’t going to change the past. My forcing her to see my pain was not going to release it from inside of me. I was just going to add one more thing to the list of things I still had to overcome. The last thing I needed was to add something I needed to repent of to my list.

Regret. I knew I had done the right thing, but where were all those words supposed to go? For the next two hours, Shawn drove us around as I screamed out everything I had wanted to say at the top of my lungs. Everything that woman deserved to hear . . . but which wasn’t worth my spouting off in hatred.



Forgiveness for me was walking away. Forgiveness wasn’t going to come to me by making a scene in a restaurant full of people. And though in that moment, it is what I wanted to do almost more than anything, I would have regretted it.

Forgiveness doesn’t come to our hearts through angry words, but it would start to come to me as my Heavenly Father blessed my heart with peace for doing the right thing in that moment when I wanted to carry out my own will. It came through trusting that God had the power to heal my soul. It wasn’t Kandi’s words that would help me find peace; it wasn’t the screaming and yelling I craved to do that would help me let it go. God had the gift to bless me with power from the Heavens in a vulnerable moment when I felt like crumbling and screaming and making sure that woman knew what was in my heart.

I grew a little taller that day, knowing that I had the power . . . not her. She would no longer control my thoughts. I was going to live with a purpose . . . and that was no longer going to be spent searching the town for her. The power I had been giving her had only brought me more heartache. She didn’t own any part of me. That power was going to be for me. That energy was going to be used for good. 



Being able to forgive doesn’t come just from hearing the words “I’m sorry.” Kandi Hall will probably never say those words to me. It is not through her actions that I can forgive her for the pain she has caused in my life. Being able to forgive is a gift from God that we can only receive from Him. As we seek to follow His counsel and rely on His timing, we can feel peace no matter how or by whom we have been wronged. Forgiving is a process and not something we check off a list. We will find a need for its power over and over again. It is not a magic pill or a one-time event. But each time we do it in our Heavenly Father’s timing, we will gain a testimony of its power and feel its healing in every aspect of our lives.

Sometimes forgiving is confronting our fears at the Walgreens parking lot; then other times, it is walking away from something we want more than anything else in the world.

I never knew how much strength I really had inside of me until that moment I walked away. I saw myself as a warrior laying down my weapons of war. I have never lacked knowing exactly what to say when confronted or put on the spot. My weakness has always been knowing when the heck to shut my mouth.

Warriors don’t always fight battles with guns and bombs, or even harsh words. Each one of us has a warrior inside of us. We put on our armor as we leave our homes every day. We know that we may be confronted with a temptation. For some of us, that temptation may be as simple as spouting off our mouths anytime we have an opinion. For others, the temptation might be to remain the shy girl in the corner who never makes a friend, and never sticks up for herself. Some of us are tempted to bully others and put people down; others are tempted to laugh when someone else is the brunt of a joke.

We have all been in these situations. Sometimes we are the top dog, and other times we are the one being shoved in the locker. Wherever you find yourself today, you are not alone. You have mountains to climb in your pain, but also waters to tread in your river of learning to forgive. We all do.

If you are barely keeping your head above water, and waiting for the other person to throw you a life raft . . . stop. There is a life raft already keeping you afloat. You do not need anyone else to help you find peace. Jesus Christ’s atonement is as real for the sinner as it is for the abused. It is our life raft. Whether or not the person who has wronged you ever comes to you with an open heart to ask for forgiveness, you CAN let it go. You do not need their life raft to keep your head above water, and you do not need their “I am sorry” to heal your heart.

In the New Testament (John 8) we read the story about the woman taken in adultery who is brought before Jesus by the scribes and Pharisees. The Savior says to them, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” Jesus doesn’t look up, but continues drawing in the sand. As the accusers all depart, the woman is left alone on the ground waiting for Jesus to condemn her. He finally turns to her and says, “Where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee?” The woman looks to him and replies, “No man, Lord.” Then Jesus simply says to her, “Go . . . and sin no more.”

We are all sinners waiting for Christ to forgive us for our sins so that we can let go of them and become better people. And yet, we have also at times been among the accusers, waiting for permission to cast the first stone, unable to forgive those who have wronged us. However, many of us are waiting for someone to come and show us how to let go of our fear, and to trust, love and forgive the sinner. In this parable, Christ didn’t say go and harbor all of your pain and never forget that you messed up. Furthermore, He didn’t send off the accusers with the idea that they should throw stones at this woman every time they saw her. He didn’t ask them to stand above her. He simply reminded them that they, like her, were also imperfect.

That day at the restaurant, the words I had planned to speak would not have been kind, and all my eyes could see was hatred . . . but I chose to walk away.

As we go about this life, sometimes we will be the woman taken in sin. We will be the one waiting with tears in our eyes for someone to still be able to see our worth. We will mess up, and at one time or another, we may lose sight of our goals. Our mistakes may even make waves in the lives of others, or they may just cause us to struggle without impacting anyone.

We will snap at our partners. We will get frustrated with our two-year-olds. We may fight with our fathers, or sneak behind our mothers’ backs. We will say unkind words, we will think degrading thoughts. We may even lie, steal and cheat at times to get what we want.

Whatever it is in your past that has humbled you to your knees, look to the Savior’s encouraging words for hope that even you, in spite of your imperfections, can change the course of your life. “Go and sin no more.” Even if you tripped over your shoes today, tomorrow is a new day. Take one step forward and be a little bit better tomorrow. Today, you may have slid down the mountain of your life, but tomorrow, you can still try to keep working your way up to the top.

It may be words that help you forgive those who have wronged you, or it may be silence that reminds you that you have the power to forgive. Even in the moments when you don’t want to stand tall . . . do it anyway. Sometimes standing tall takes courage, and other times it only takes humility. Walk away.

Go and Sin No More