Dear God . . . why did you choose me?

Dear God,

I didn’t know it would change me.

The moment they looked into my eyes I knew I was never going to be the same. I was now a mother. Every move I made—for the rest of my life—was no longer going to just effect me. I had a purpose much greater than any I had ever had before.

I felt so capable, knowing that you had put so much trust in me. I felt strong and courageous and ever so willing. I just knew I was going to do it perfectly. So I set off on what I thought would be a perfect journey . . . of motherhood.  

Then life got in the way. At first I just pretended I couldn’t see the moments I would fall short—I thought if I ignored them they would disappear. I believed if I didn’t acknowledge that I was sometimes failing—at things I thought would come so easy—I would be able to overcome them. So I continued to chart my perfect course.

 Yet, every day since I am reminded of just how insignificant I am, usually only in my mind. The house is never—always—clean. The food sometimes burns. Some days we are lucky if there is food prepared at dinner time. The weeds take over the garden. The watermelon falls out the back of the car and bursts all over the driveway. But worst of all . . . many times I fail at the one thing I thought I could do perfectly—motherhood.  

Sometimes I wonder why you chose me. Flawed. Emotional. Imperfect.

I look in the mirror and can easily see every disappointment I have ever been. Yet each day, I end the night with a prayer that tomorrow I can be better—more patient and loving . . . more perfect. Then morning comes and—as I pry myself out of bed—I am reminded of all the things that I am not.

The list of to dos is longer than the hours I have in the day. The pile of laundry multiplies over night. Everyone needs me for something. Appointments. Assignments. Ballet classes. Soccer practice. Basketball games. Report we forgot to do is due tomorrow. Homework still needs to be done. Date night has been pushed aside for a month. When was the last time I washed my hair? I forgot to put the clothes in the dryer . . . two days ago.

Some nights we pour a bowl of cereal for dinner—as I remember all the pictures of friend’s perfect dinners I saw posted on Facebook—I wonder why it seems everyone has everything all together but me.

Sometimes I yell . . . over stupid stuff. Little insignificant annoyances that just don’t seem to let up. Kids fighting, or sassing, or messing up my plan.

Sometimes I wonder . . . if I had known how hard it was going to be—would I do it all over again?

And then I stop in my tracks, because that is THE one thing I know for sure. Even though I am flawed, and imperfect and some days a disaster of a mess—I was born to be a mom. And that is my truth.

So today I guess I just want to say thank you for believing in me, even though I am broken. Thank you for loving me even when I mess up. For patiently reminding me to love, even when I have nothing left. For giving me wisdom—in just the perfect moment— to find a reason to be better.

Thank you for sending me answers I could not find on my own. For giving me strength to stand just when I think I have nothing left.

I feel you all around me, when I take the time to listen. I see that grace is the power that pulls me through, when the nights get long and the days get hard.

So though, today I might forget. I truly want to be patient. I want to be loving and fun. I want to be creative, organized, and have it all together. Heck I even want to make some of those amazing dinners I only see in pictures.

But—if we are going to be honest—You know that I am not going to measure up in all of these things every single day. So my prayer today is that I don’t forget the things that are the most important. Help me remember to see this family how You see them . . . but even more, help me to see me . . . just as you created me to be.

Help me to be who I am supposed to be so I can be there for my babies in the ways they need, so they—my children—will remember that they were Your children first.

Help me remember today—as I fail at many things—that I am right where I belong.

Today as I send my babies out into the world—send them angels to protect them. Help them to make a difference wherever they may be. Help them to see those who need help, and need a friend. Help them to remember all that I have tried to show them. Please bless me this day with wisdom—to know where to spend my time. Please give me strength this day to let go of the expectations of what I think I should be. Please help me to see the bigger picture—that I may be the instrument to help them feel of Your love.

If I am to lose my way today, please send me reminders of the truths that I am forgetting. I know I have an enemy who wants me to dwell on all the things I am not—please help me to be strong as I battle through and live my truths.

Because the truth is—I am a perfect mess but—I am the woman you chose to be the mother of this home. So if we were meant to have it all together—then I guess we already would.

Give me courage to let go of the insecurities that only hold me back, and strength to remember the truths that will help me become—not as I think I should be—but as You created me to be.

My random thoughts tonight about how insecurities suck . . . and why I fight.

Mothers Day is just around the corner . . . please remember to encourage the mothers you know who are making a difference in all the right ways . . . especially you! 

What if . . . I Jump?

 I will never comprehend how I was able to move forward or why Heavenly Father asked me to become okay with the thought of finding love again so quickly. I can only say that I didn’t do it alone. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t prepared, and I didn’t feel able to do it . . . but I knew it was exactly what I was supposed to do. 

On the Fast Sunday before going to Emmett’s grave for Memorial Day, I fasted for my little family to be blessed with healing in our hearts so we could one day move forward. My fasting and prayers were answered . . . more quickly than I ever thought possible, but I wasn’t quite emotionally prepared for that immediate response.

   

Sometimes for months . . . or even years Heavenly Father keeps telling us to have patience. Let’s be honest. Throughout most of my life, God had constantly been reminding me to have patience . . . and that was just exactly the lesson I needed to learn in every one of those instances. I think I was finally beginning to understand the platitude that patience is a virtue and I had almost mastered it . . . patience in His timing, and patience in His plan. I felt like I had finally begun to get the hint . . . because He kept taking the time to remind me to slow down and wait.

   

Then one day . . . He threw a man into my life . . . and told me to jump with both feet. Leap with faith. He asked me to stand, despite my fears and regardless of all the rational thoughts that were running through my mind . . . and the things being said by everyone else.

   

The first time I even saw a photo of Shawn, I knew there was something special about him. He had a light in his eyes that drew me in. On our first date, it felt like we had been lifelong best friends. There was never a dull moment in our conversations. I told him my story, and he shared his with me. We knew a lot of the same people, but we’d never met before.

   

I knew when I met him for the very first time that Heavenly Father had sent me someone special. I felt peace in my decision to take a leap of faith and go out with him . . . and as the weeks that followed came to show me . . . soon, I was going to be asked to jump.

     

It’s funny that in those moments when we think we have all the answers . . . the Lord asks us to be patient and wait. But in this instance—when it had been drilled into my mind so often that I knew nothing—He asked me to show Him that I could still have faith in His timing.

Shawn and I got engaged, and with all the opinions of the community pouring in, I began to panic. I worried about everyone judging my decision, and I struggled as people told me about the timing they thought I should be respecting.

One night, I called my mother. I didn’t even say hello, but just went off on a rampage of questions. “What if he cheats on me, or what if he dies? What if I give him my whole heart and he breaks it? Mom, I know what I’m supposed to do, but I have no idea how I can do it. I keep getting calls from all sorts of people telling me what I’m supposed to do, and it is making me doubt the answers I know I’ve received for myself. What if . . . what if he cheats on me, and someone shoots him in the head?”

With her usual wisdom, Mom spoke the words I needed to hear that day . . . “Ashlee, what if everything happens that has already happened? You have been where most of us in this life will never be. You have felt more pain at your young age than most people who walk the earth will ever see in all their years. You loved Emmett, and he broke your heart, but he didn’t break you. You are capable of still living all the dreams you have ever had. Even if Shawn walks away and leaves you, you will be the same person you are now. You will still be standing.”

I ended the conversation with my wise mother and called Shawn. “I need to marry you, and I want to marry you. We are supposed to do this. Let’s just do it. Why sit around and plan, and have the world tell me all the reasons why we shouldn’t get married? What do you say I call my bishop and we just get married this week?”

He laughed, thinking I was joking, then said, “You know what. As long as you and the kids, and my parents are there . . . that is all I care about.”

 (Engagement pictures taken by my friend Cheryl who did the bunny pics)

So our mission to plan a wedding came to an end. I called my bishop on a Monday, and by Thursday afternoon we were standing in front of him saying our vows. Surrounded by our children, some of our siblings, my Aunt Diane and cousin Tiffanie, and our parents . . . we committed to each other and our family that we would give our marriage all that it deserved . . . for better or for worse.

My mother, who at the time lived some distance away, told me she wouldn’t be able to make it to the wedding, but to my surprise, she showed up a few minutes before it started. She walked into my bathroom as I was putting on the last of my make-up, and I was so excited to have her there that day. 

I felt calm and collected. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t doubt, and I didn’t fear. I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, feeling completely confident about this new family unit Shawn and I were about to create.

 (wedding pictures by my friend Gabriela)

It was a beautiful day, one I will never forget. It was simple. The twins begged me to wear my wedding dress from my marriage to Emmett . . . and Shawn said it didn’t matter to him, so I did.

My friends Brittany and Lindsay couldn’t stand the fact that I hadn’t arranged for any flowers, so they did some flowers for us. They even snuck in and decorated the clubhouse. It was beautiful.

When it was time to exchange the rings, Teage and Jordyn were our ring-bearers. The sun was shining, and in fact, it was so hot that we were all sweating in that tiny room.

Shawn didn’t take his eyes off of me. Tears rolled down my face as I thought of the years that had lead me to this moment. I had flashbacks of the last time I had worn that dress, but my heart made room for the new memories I was creating in it.

Just as with the first time I had worn that dress, my hopes for my future soared out of that hot room and on past the sun. I considered the six children who I now called mine. They were no different from the ones I had pictured on my bed on my sixteenth birthday. They were sweet, and kind, and respectful. They were beautiful, they were loving . . . and they were mine. I didn’t have to wait for that dream to come true. This time around, I wasn’t going to be a first-time newlywed . . . but a wife and mother living a life that looked as if we had been building it for ten years.

Although Shawn and I had not walked down all of our roads together, we deserved each other. We had no idea of the hard work that lay before us to blend our two families and to clean up messes from the past, but quite frankly, on that perfect day, we didn’t care. We were just happy to call that family ours.

We took a three-night honeymoon to a local hotel. Neither of us wanted to be too far away from the children since they had so many adjustments to make, as did we.

Our honeymoon was relaxing and wonderful, and it gave us the opportunity to get to know each other without any other cares. In fact, it was actually fun to pretend to be young newlyweds. In every restaurant we went, someone would inevitably ask us if we had just gotten married, because apparently, we were a bit dreamy-eyed!

I enjoyed those three days, but I also couldn’t wait to get home . . . back to real life. I couldn’t wait to have a husband to call my own, and I longed to snap out of the funk that had put me in a state of panic every time I cleaned, did laundry, or tried to prepare food. I was just certain that all my cares would be soothed, and all my triggers would be mended . . . now that I was a married woman again.

I felt certain that the healing Shawn would bring, which had been promised to me, would now be complete. After all, we were a family . . . that was all the healing I would need, right?

I wish that one ‘I do’ would have been the answer to all the pain Emmett’s murder had planted inside of me. I think a part of me thought my new marriage would fill all the holes inside of me, as they were filling the holes in my household. My bed was no longer empty, my nights were no longer lonely . . . but inside, there were still wounds gaping open and parts of me still screaming. I had so many questions still left unanswered, I had so many wrongs to forgive, and I still had mountains to climb to find the peace that I still sought. But, I had no regrets about taking that leap of getting married.

What if? Two little words that we, especially we women, can spend a life time asking ourselves. We hallucinate. We map out scenarios. We try to find answers to our recurring states of panic. We search for peace inside ourselves because we fear going through what another person HAS lived. What if he doesn’t call back? What if I get in a car crash? What if this cancer is my final test in life? What if I get hit by a car? What if I never meet Mr. Right? What if . . . the girl I am supposed to marry already married the wrong guy? What if my child chokes on an apple? What if I give my whole heart, and it gets destroyed?

So many ‘what ifs!’ . . . and there will always be something. There will always be a reason to fear. Cars can crash, dogs can get sick, babies can drown, cancer can spread, spouses can cheat, and people will die. But ‘what if’ we never jump because of all our fears?

What if every single ‘what if’ we fear all came true all in one night? Where would be? Who would be left? We will never know until we jump. And when we jump, both feet must jump together. We cannot have one foot in one world, and one in the other.

Jumping with both feet may hurt. There are always risks with jumping. And even if it doesn’t hurt immediately, it may hurt later. It may cause you years of new battles to fight in the future. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t leap with faith in the first place.

What if? What if I never took another breath for fear I might get hurt? Life is too short to not live it fully because it may hurt. We will not grow if we do not feel the growing pains that are sent to refine us. We don’t know what pains lie ahead, or which pains from the past have actually purified our souls . . . but with the two soles we use to tread along our path in life . . . we also have the power to jump. We can’t be afraid to use our power to jump because of the risks, but we have to use that power wisely and choose to jump in the right direction.

Emmett and I lost a lot of family and friends in the years that followed our marriage.  Almost every year we found ourselves at a funeral of someone who was very close to us.

  

One hot summer Sunday while living in Washington for law school, we got a call that one of my best friends had committed suicide. Everything inside of me went weak. It broke Emmett to the core; he was very close to her and her husband. Emmett had summer school that he couldn't miss, but we got in the car and drove straight down to see her husband and the two beautiful children she had left behind.

She had been suffering from a severe post partum depression that eventually caused her to end her own life. Little did I know as I held her husband and we sobbed together that night, that Emmett would be joining his sweetheart in just a few short years.

After Emmett’s death, I had a dream one night about Emmett and our friend. In the dream, they were talking to each other as if they weren’t aware of the fact that I could hear them. They discussed their respective family members who were still living. She was saying how proud she was of her husband who was working so hard to raise their children and who was moving forward and finding love again. She also told Emmett how brave he was for helping me to find love again. She told him how happy she was that her husband and I were both finding ways to move forward from our tragedies.

Emmett began to cry and she put her arms around him. She whispered into his ear, “I wish I could do it all over again too . . . but they still can.”

I woke up from that dream unable to fully understand what it all meant at first. It took me some time to process. She had taken her own life because of an illness that compelled her to take a leap in the wrong direction. She felt the weight of her pain that came as a result of losing control over her actions. Emmett had also taken a leap in the wrong direction. He had jumped over the edge of the cliff he had been scaling, and the decisions that followed his leap ultimately got him killed.

My dear friend’s message to me in that dream rings so true. She and Emmett were suffering from the pain of their past mistakes that ended their lives, and unfortunately, neither of them had the mortal ‘do-overs’ that are still possible for the living. In spite of their regrets, my friend and Emmett could see the value in their spouses’ continued progress and search for peace in their mortal lives after they found themselves alone.

We have all had the occasion to approach the edge of a cliff. We know there is a great risk in getting too near, and yet . . . so many of us continue to tiptoe closer and closer. Some of us willingly choose to flirt with the edges in life. We seek cheap thrills, and purposefully find our way to uncharted waters. However, the way doesn’t have to be life-threatening if we would just remember to stay as far away from the edge as possible.

My dear friend and Emmett have taught me so much. Although I loved them both with all my heart, my heart also aches for the years they are missing with their families. They have moved on past mortality, but their desires for us are no different than their desires for themselves. They have taught me the importance of putting one foot in front of the other and continuing to move forward. We must endure to move beyond our pain, and we must jump with both feet—not in the wrong direction—but into the good things of this world.

Even if all of your leaps so far have resulted in your falling on your face, you have to develop the faith that as you practice jumping with both feet in the right direction, one day, your feet will get a little lighter . . . and you will no longer fall. Some day, that same faith may require you to take a giant leap, and you will want to be certain it is in the right direction, and that both feet are equally committed. And even with that, there is no guarantee of a soft landing.

“What if I get hurt?” You will.

“What if I get rejected?” Yup . . . that too!

But ‘what if’ you never jump? It is only when you leap with faith that you will find your wings.

("Jesus with our family" by Bostyn)

Something is Wrong

The detectives investigating Emmett’s murder had put items from his office they no longer needed into a giant plastic box. I put the box in my garage, afraid to throw anything away . . . I just knew that something in that box had to be evidence. Sometimes I would go out there in the middle of the night looking for clues . . . looking for something they had missed. I would rummage through all the paperwork, reading every bank statement, every chicken scratch on every sticky note. When I found receipts for purchases at the mall or restaurant bills, I created stories in my mind about what might have happened on that particular day. To me, everything had to be a clue, a clue to what? That was the only problem. Something was wrong, I couldn’t wait around for the trial for answers. I had to dig deeper for myself. I spent hours out there pretending that it was my job to find answers for the detectives . . . to do their job for them. I guess realistically, I knew I wouldn’t find what they needed, but I still searched for something . . . that I needed. Maybe by chance, I would find the missing family portrait. Maybe I would find a hidden letter he had written to me telling me how much he loved me. I hoped to find correspondence between the two of them . . .  maybe Emmett telling her he wanted out because he already had a wife whom he loved. I don’t really know for sure what I was searching for—because I never did find it—but I sure knew how to waste a lot of time trying.

One of those weak moments came in the middle of the day . . . an urge that something was wrong pushing me to go and search through the box for clues. The little ones were napping. It must have been a Saturday because everyone was home. I took the three older kids out into the garage and told them they could play, but that I had some ‘work’ to do. As I searched my box, they began to wander out of the garage over to where some neighbor kids were playing. I was actually proud of them for leaving my side, and I enjoyed searching for my ‘prize’—all alone—in that box full of emptiness. This time, I was convinced I would find the missing piece to the case.

Soon, I found a file with some bank statements I hadn’t seen before. I began to scan through the dates and places where our credit cards had been used, trying to picture where I had been on the days in question. I turned the page over to skim through the other side. February 14^th . . . Valentine’s Day. Victoria’s Secret. A hotel. A fancy restaurant. My heart dropped. We hadn’t spent any time together that day. No, on that Valentine’s Day—just a few months earlier—I had been at home with the kids . . . waiting for my husband. I remember having wondered that day why Emmett’s work was more important to him than me. Valentine’s Day was not that big of a deal to me . . . but oh how I had hoped to see him walk in the door with some flowers and kisses to let me know that he loved me. He hadn’t . . . and at the time, I had soothed my loneliness by helping the twins make elaborate Valentine’s boxes for their cards. We had spent the holiday without him, but apparently, all those things he should have done for his wife, he had spent the time doing . . . for her. My blood was boiling. How could he have done that to me . . . when I was at home taking care of our babies, with Tytus less than a month old? I read through the purchases he made that day—over and over. Each time I glanced back at the date, my heart thumped out of my chest, as if that day were happening all over again, right then.

All of the sudden, I heard Bostyn screaming. It sounded like she had been hurt. I dropped the file back into the box and ran towards the sound of the cries, but she came running to me first. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the garage. “Something is wrong,” she cried. “Why are guns real? Why, Mom? Why is this world so bad? … Why do we have to do this? I hate that we have to live here. Why are guns real . . . why does this world not care about anyone? Nobody cares . . . why are guns even real! SOMETHING IS WRONG!”

She had no idea about what I had just read in her father’s files and how badly, at that same moment, I hated the world as well. I stumbled for the words to say to her. “Bostyn, I . . . don’t . . . what happened?” She threw her hands over her face and started screaming. “Those kids out there are playing with guns and one of them shot the other one. Why did Heavenly Father make guns at all? Why can’t everyone just go away? They don’t understand that guns will ruin them. They think this is fun. I wish we could just never do this . . . I never want to play ever again . . . something is wrong.”

I wasn’t sure how to comfort my daughter. Nothing was really wrong, it was just a couple of kids playing with some toys. I looked out to the street where innocent children were laughing and chasing each other. I glanced over at my box . . . it was just a box full of garbage and some law books. If I told her that “nothing was wrong” it would be hypocritical. After all, just look at me, with my box full of crap . . . pretending I was finding answers to what was wrong . . . in that moment. No matter what I found in that box, nothing was going to change for me. No matter how many times I poured through the information in that box . . . I was still going to be right where I was. Nothing NEW was wrong. But it felt like it. Just like my little girl sitting there blaming her tears on the events of that day, I too was taking the horrible events of the past and transforming them into brand new horrible events in the present.

A few days before Emmett died, I sat in a counselor’s office for the first time, pouring out my heart to him . . . begging him to fix me. “I just have trust issues,” I told him. “I just need you to fix me. I just need to believe in things and not question them. I am here so you can fix all the issues from my past . . . and help me stop feeling so scared all the time. So if you can just let me know what I need to do to fix myself, I will do anything. I have a husband whom I love more than anything! He insists that everything is great. WE are great . . .  and so if you can just tell me how to trust . . . I will do whatever you think I need to do. This is how I can save my family . . . I have to let go of my trust issues from the past!” The counselor sat and mostly listened to me that day. He listened to all the fears I had been bottling up inside myself. I told him of the loneliness I had been feeling. I felt as if I had been pushed away by my husband. I told him I was worried that Emmett didn’t love me or the children anymore, and that something felt wrong. He sat there, quietly. I could tell he was listening with his heart. Finally, at the end of my begging him to fix my trust issues he said, “Ashlee . . . you know those feelings that come from way deep down . . . those times when you feel like something is very wrong . . . ” I cut him off. “Yeah, those . . . those are the feelings I need you to FIX,” I said. “Ashlee,” he continued, “those . . . those feelings are there for a reason. Maybe you were hurt in your past, maybe you are afraid to be hurt now . . . but those deep feelings inside of you . . . are there to keep you safe. In marriage, and in any relationship, you have to work through those feelings together. It is the job if each partner in a marriage to really take a step back and look at how to support each other through those fears . . . as irrational as they may seem! Every single person on this earth has insecurities and fears. Sometimes they are because of our past, but other times, they are there for an immediate reason. So each person in a relationship has the role of helping the other person find safety, through trust, love and respect. The things you are telling me today . . . I really believe you are right. It sounds to me like those feelings are there for a reason.”

That answer gave me hope that I wasn’t totally crazy, but it also left me stirring in my fear. If those feelings were there for a reason . . . then maybe something really was wrong, and how could I find answers to that? I had begged for help—from him and from others—but no one seemed to know how to quiet my fears.

A few weeks before Emmett was killed, my friend Emily stopped by to spend the day with me. It was one of those days when sheer panic had stopped me in my tracks. She finally asked me what was wrong, and it was as if she had turned on a faucet! I told her about all that was going on. I opened up to her—for the very first time— about how frightened I was that I was losing my husband. I told her about all the clues that led me to believe that something was seriously wrong. She said, “Well, let’s go follow him. Let’s go find out what’s going on.” At the time, a part of me had thought about doing that very thing . . . like removing a band aid . . . just rip out the truth and find out for myself, and quit waiting around for him to tell me. I knew that following him might lead to answers that could be very hard to accept. It was like my heart longed for some reassurance that I wasn’t crazy, but my mind knew that ‘curing my crazies’ might mean facing some very harsh realities. Maybe Emily and I should have followed him, and found out right then what was going on, but I was afraid to see it . . . I was afraid to feel it. I was afraid that if I did find out what was really wrong, our blaming it all on my ‘trust issues’ wouldn’t hold us together any longer. So I just sat there and did nothing . . . allowing the “something is wrong feeling” to just fester inside of me.

I remember the first time in my life when I got that “something is wrong” feeling. I was in third grade and my best friend lived just a few blocks away. We had permission that day to walk over to her house. As we approached her doorstep, I could hear crazy screaming and yelling inside. My friend looked so scared. She whipped her head around to me and said, “Hey . . . uh . . . my mom has probably been drinking. Wait here, and I’ll be right back.”

I waited outside, but I could hear everything. Her mother was screaming at everyone, and then I could tell she had started beating my friend. I could hear her begging her mother to stop . . . but she didn’t. She hit her a lot. I was nauseous as I listened . . . but I did nothing. I just sat down near the side of their house, literally scared out of my mind, crying my eyes out. Something was wrong . . . and there was nothing that I, a little seven-year-old girl, could do about it. Until then, I had not realized that the world could be mean. My only experiences up to that point in my life had been all about pretty things and kind words. That was the day I learned about fear. I learned that day that there will be moments when everything inside of you tells you “something is wrong!”

Later that same year, I was walking home from school with a friend. As we turned a corner, a little, white car pulled up along side of us. There were two older men in the car. The man in the passenger seat said, “Hey we need some help . . . we need you to get in our car and come help us find where our friend lives.” He grabbed onto my arm. Something was wrong! I could feel it. Everything inside of me told me to run. I screamed, “Run . . . RUN!” I ripped my hand out of his grip and my friend and I took off and ran around another corner. We hid behind a huge bush before the men had time to catch up to us. We stayed behind that bush for some time . . . silently breathing in deep breaths, watching the car drive past us, over and over again. That little, white car must have passed that bush about six times before the scary feeling finally left and I knew it was safe to head home. Later, as the police sat in my driveway and asked us questions about the car and men . . . I felt frozen in fear. I learned more bad things about the world—that it didn’t care, and that there were real-life bad guys!

Trust issues. Pain from the past. Fear. We all have them. We all need them to some degree . . . to keep us safe in situations when the spirit tells us to run. But then at other times, we all need our insecurities to be calmed and to go away so that we can continue on and live through our past pain. It is our job, in any relationship, to be loving, and to be respectful of the fears others might have. If someone you know and love comes to you with a concern, or tells you that something feels wrong . . . listen.

I had seen things go wrong in the world, I had felt the urgency to “get out” in an emergency. But with Emmett, I sat there for months silently suffering . . . not knowing how to let those subtle urges move me to action, blaming my fears from the past from allowing me to move forward. It wasn’t because my parents got divorced the summer after I had learned—outside my friend’s front door—that there was darkness in the world. It wasn’t because I had dated a bunch of jerks when I was younger. It was because my marriage was broken . . . and I didn’t even know it, until it was gone. And then, I had to find the answers to my insecurities all by myself. My husband wasn’t there to stroke my back and tell me that everything would be all right. He wasn’t there to hold my hand as I learned to trust again. Emmett was dead . . . and somewhere inside of me . . . I was still searching for answers . . . searching for clues, searching for signs in my garage. I was pretending that finding the answers now, would somehow make everything better.

I believe there is a gift given to each of us to help us discern right from wrong. It is the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Just as there is a force in this world that tries to bring us to darkness, there is also a power of light, and I have felt the power of the Holy Ghost lead me to that light. The Holy Ghost has been for me what a Disney movie describes as our ‘conscience.’ The Holy Ghost works as our constant guide: those silent whisperings in our hearts when something is not quite right. There are moments that stop us in our tracks, when something much greater than ourselves is trying to reach us. I believe these gentle urges come from the Holy Ghost.

When my twins were babies, I remember a day when I had just tucked them into their beds for a nap. I shut their door and began walking down the stairs. Halfway down the stairs, I got an overwhelming impression to go back up and check on them. At first I thought, “No . . . they are fine. I was just in there.” But something kept telling me to turn around and go back in their room to make sure they were okay. I opened the door and heard the weirdest sound coming from Bostyn’s crib. Somehow, she had rolled over and her blanket had wrapped around her head. She was gasping for air, but the blanket over her face was hindering her attempts to breathe. I quickly unwrapped her, and she took a giant breath.

I know I was prompted that day on those stairs. I hardly ever went back to check on the twins during their naps . . . because the door would squeak and wake them up. A power much greater than my own instincts had told me that something was wrong . . . and it was . . . and I did something about it.

Sometimes we are quietly searching alone in the darkness of our garages . . . for answers to our problems, trying to grasp onto anything to help our lives make sense. Wasting hours on nothing. I was so afraid not to know everything Emmett had done . . . but I was even more afraid of the answers I was searching for all by myself. On those days, I didn’t ask for professional help . . . and I certainly didn’t seek guidance from the Lord. Absorbed by complete self-pity . . . I did it all alone.

You don’t have to search alone. Ask for the Holy Ghost to be your companion as you search for what is wrong. He will guide you. And in those moments when you need to stop searching and just look within yourself . . . He will comfort you. He will send you the still, small voice to lead you to what is important. He knows you are searching alone . . . but if you search for Christ, instead, His voice will guide you to the light that only He can bring. Don’t spend your hours searching for clues in the dark. Use His love to light your path. Use His peace to still your soul. Allow His spirit to guide you in your search when you feel that something is wrong. And when you are confused about whether you are suffering because of past hurts, or whether there is something happening right now, His spirit will enlighten you . . . and give you peace.

Bostyn had those fears for a reason . . . but the reason wasn’t in that moment. It was from something that had happened in her past. I was looking for clues about past hurts in a box . . . not because it would change anything for me, but because my fears of the past still motivated me to seek peace. It hadn’t helped to have others tell me I was crazy, but if I had been able to find the love I was searching for, it would have changed me. If Emmett had been there for me in my moments of fear . . . a lot of things would have been different. Bostyn didn’t need me to tell her that she was crazy. It was my job as her mother to comfort her and help calm her fears. She didn’t need to hear how over-dramatic she was being. She needed to find peace in a moment when everything inside of her was telling her that “something was wrong”.

We all have insecurities. We all have fears that drive us to question . . . ourselves . . . our doubts . . . even the truth. It is easy in life to get mixed up about what is an unfounded doubt and what is a truth. Let the Holy Ghost guide you . . . and help you determine if those fears are there because something really is wrong, or because something was wrong in the past, and you haven’t been able to let it go.

What people in your life are begging for your patience and love as they work through their insecurities? How many times have you just told them to stop being so paranoid . . . to blindly trust? Maybe it isn’t a lack of trust in you, maybe those insecurities are there because they are failing to see how to let go of their past. How have they felt when you squelched their fear instead of acknowledging it through your trust and love? We have a responsibility to be there for those around us who are afraid. Yes, maybe their fears are not because of anything we did or didn’t do . . . maybe their feelings that something is wrong come from their lives before we knew them, or a part of their past of which we were not a part, but it doesn’t change the fact that the fears driving them . . . feel so real.

Before he died, Emmett had spent months telling me I was just hallucinating . . . that I was crazy. I remember a few times I would run out to his car as he was driving away for work. He would roll down his window to say goodbye. With tears in my eyes I would ask “Is everything okay . . . I feel scared, what is happening? … I need your help.” He would get frustrated with me and tell me to stop being so paranoid. As he would drive away, I would just stand there feeling completely empty inside. The fear in my heart felt more than just my past pains creeping in . . . something felt very wrong.

In my case, something had been wrong. … I wasn’t crazy! I remember when the detectives shut the front door that night after telling me about Emmett’s death, as I sat there with my sister Ali and her boyfriend, Will, my first reaction was to hit the couch and scream, “I told you I wasn’t crazy!” Screaming and punching . . . relieved that I wasn’t crazy . . . punching my hand into the cushion, letting that cushion know I had been right! I punched the couch for all the times I had opened up and no one could help me. I punched it for all the clues that had been leading me to the answers I had been seeking, but mainly, I abused that cushion for all the important people to whom I had pled for help who told me that I just needed to “get over it . . . because this is real life!” Something had been wrong, but nobody, not even me, had known what to do about it. I was humiliated that I found out the truth on the same night everyone else did. Yes, I was scared because Emmett was gone. … I was devastated that he had been murdered . . . and furious that he had been unfaithful to me . . . but my very first emotion was a sense of relief that I finally had an answer to my impression that “something was wrong!”

I will never understand how shock works. In my case, it was as if it shut off my ability to choose which emotions came over me. The first emotion that came for me—as crazy as it sounds—was relief . . . relief that all my feelings that something was wrong . . . were real. I wasn’t crazy. That feeling of relief . . . it scared the hell out of me. I felt like a horrible person. Out of all the emotions I should have been feeling in that moment . . . I was relieved that those impressions that had been churning inside me and eating me alive . . . had been there for a reason. My heart had been right. I wasn’t feeling those things because I was broken from my past. The counselor had been correct . . . but unfortunately, now it was too late. My sense of relief was brief . . . but when it hit, it felt so good to know my instincts had been right. It wasn’t just because I had trust issues . . . it was because the Holy Ghost had been whispering to me and impressing upon my mind that something was wrong.

Understand that your spouse needs to feel that he or she is the most important person to you. Cherish that relationship. If you have any other  relationships—a co worker, an old high school friend, another parent in your kid’s class—that make your spouse feel uncomfortable, no matter how irrational it may seem to you, PLEASE put your spouse first, the person who matters most in your life. Don’t fight over relationships that aren’t worth fighting for. Comfort the fears of those people who truly matter in your life. Eventually, after they see that they come first no matter what, their fears will be calmed . . . but work together until they do. It is not your job to bring others happiness. That is a choice they have to make for themselves . . . but sometimes their fears . . . might actually protect you from unbearable heartache . . . if you will just listen. Emmett thought I was just being insecure when I shared with him the feelings I had the minute I heard Kandi’s name. But my fears were right. Em and I were a team . . . but in that moment . . . he ignored my fears, and placed his desires above our partnership . . . and eventually, our team was shattered.

There will be moments when a feeling will come into your mind . . . telling you that something isn’t right. Yes, sometimes it is something we need to let go of from the past . . . but when it is deep down . . . insisting that something is really wrong . . . don’t let it go. It may be there for a reason. It may be there trying to lead you. It may be there for you to open up a lie that is hiding. Don’t wait until all you have left are the clues in a dark garage in a box full of dead ends. Whatever that moment is for you . . . ask for love as you find answers. Seek for guidance until you find peace. Don’t wait until it is too late, and as in my case, have the answers come to you at the same moment they are told to the rest of the world. Follow the still small voice. It is a voice of warning. It is a voice of comfort. It is a voice of guidance in all the roads you travel. And its power can be a voice of truth to you in the moments when something is wrong.