Fear with Faith

Tonight after I tucked all the kids in bed Bostyn came running out into the hall. She grabbed on to my hand and pulled me back into the twins' room. She was a little bit shaky and said, “Mom . . . today at school we watched a video about electricity and how if the power lines are down and you get too close to them it can kill you. Bailey and I are sort of freaking out about it and we can’t go to sleep.”

I sat down on their bed and tucked them back into their covers. I wasn’t sure what to say but within seconds these words came to my mind. I said, “Girls . . . I don’t think Heavenly Father gives us knowledge so we can fear. I believe that knowledge is given to us to keep us safe. Heavenly Father wants you to know about the dangers of power lines . . . not so you can be in fear all night—and not so you can be paralyzed in fear when an emergency happens and a power line is down—He wants you to have this knowledge so you can have faith—faith in yourself that if that tragedy were to come up in your life . . . you would know just what to do. I believe that Satan wants us to obtain knowledge so we can fear. He wants you to stay awake all night fearing your new knowledge. He wants you to be so worried that you don’t sleep all night long; then tomorrow you are so tired you don’t enjoy any part of your day . . . and Halloween is no fun at all. He wants you to panic for the rest of your life so much that when one day you come to a fallen power line you are so scared you don’t know how to use your knowledge to keep yourself safe.  I know that this knowledge about the dangers of power lines feels new and unknown—but I think that Heavenly Father sent it to you as a tool to store in the back of your mind for safe keeping. Your new knowledge isn’t to be used right now, because the only use for it right now does not come from God, it is fear. God wants us to use our faith to store that message of safety so one day if we need to bring it out . . . it will be our faith—not our fear—that will help us remember how to keep ourselves safe.”

I have no idea where those words came from inside of me—because I don’t believe they did. The power in my testimony to my daughters tonight about power lines spoke a million words to my own heart. There are so many moments in the past few years that I have taken knowledge and turned it into fear. Even in the little every day information given to me by another person—I have developed a skill to put my fear into motion from the tiniest of “facts”.

Since Emmett’s death especially, I have spent days—sometimes months—thinking that knowledge would bring me faith enough to find the peace I was seeking. Knowledge in itself is a worthy cause, but when that knowledge is coupled with fear . . . the aftermath can be devastating—sometimes just as powerful as the event in which you wanted to obtain more knowledge about in the first place.

The trial for me was that knowledge. I craved the facts; I needed them to live. I never stopped searching for them—and any day that I would take a break from my search . . . the facts would find me. It was as if we were on a hunt for each other—the facts and me—each of us just a step behind one another. Sometimes it was as simple as a nurse in the ER, after getting stitches in Tytus’ finger, pulling me to the side of the building to tell me of some facts she overheard on the night of the murder. Other times it was a random phone call from an unknown caller giving me a tip. Information poured in constantly—but when it didn’t, I searched for it.

Every eye staring my way in the grocery store, was a potential bearer of the truth that I craved; every pretty girl a threat to the marriage I no longer had . . . and worse a trigger of fear in the marriage I was trying to build. I was like a sponge that was drying up, but nothing seemed to make things right inside. No amount of evidence called in by detectives brought me one ounce of the peace I still longed for.

I wanted to know why Rob took a gun.  I wanted to know what was said that night. I craved to see the note that was written to me, that sat on Rob’s front seat as he shot a series of bullets into my husband. I longed to hear the emails. I desired with all my heart to know of the details of the life Emmett was living, while I was rocking his screaming infant in my arms. I wanted to know why Kandi and Emmett were there that night . . . but mainly I wanted to know why I wasn’t enough. I secretly hoped that the trial would be scattered with proof of all the evidence of why Emmett was not choosing me. That way I could piece together in my mind all that I did wrong—so I could change whatever parts of me had not been good enough for him. I hoped that the trial would give me all the parts of my life I did not know—and that knowledge would save me from ever living any of it again.

Each time the trial date was changed, it was like another million pound load was placed upon my shoulders. I waited like a baby bird left alone in his nest. My mouth gapping wide open, thinking of little more than what awaited me. Craving the facts to piece together the broken pieces inside of me.

One day I got a call much different than any I had received. Mediation. Rob had agreed to try to mediate the case. Mediate—like a no fault divorce? You take your truck, I will take ours . . . and we will call it fair . . .? I wanted to throw up, but I agreed. My desire to have the trial over out weighed my need for every nasty detail.

The days leading up to mediation were heavy.  I could not wait to put a face to his mug shot. To me, he was a mystical creature—maybe like a big green hulk—that had come and destroyed my world. I wondered if he even had a heart—maybe he would look like the tin man, who could feel nothing inside.

I hallucinated almost hourly what the mediation would hold. In my mind, I pictured us ending the day in the same room—me screaming and yelling at Rob all of the things I had been through because of his decision. I hoped my words would be given the floor—regardless of anyone’s feelings. I longed to stand in front of the whole room and show them that this “victim” had a voice.

The day of the mediation came. I awoke to an excitement I had never felt before. I was nervous, but even more I was ready to have my voice heard. I had asked my step dad to accompany me to the courthouse. By the time we reached the parking lot I was shaking. The excitement to explode my emotions was like a bomb waiting to go off. My nerves had set in full force. I wasn’t ready to face Rob, but I could not wait.

We were shown our room. Emmett’s parents were both waiting inside with our attorneys. Rob was in a room down the hall. We waited for what seemed like four years before the mediator came to our room. He began to speak. He said something along the lines of, “Well, I appreciate all of you being here today . . . we hope to come to some sort of resolve by the end of the day. I will be going back and forth between the two rooms in hope that we can come to some sort of bargain that we can mediate this case out on. Once I meet with Rob and his attorneys, I will come back in here and discuss with the victims what they are willing to settle with . . . and we will just go back and forth until we reach an agreement.”

My heart dropped. Isn’t this the day when I am no longer just a victim? Isn’t this my time to let it all out . . . and piece together all that was broken by this man?

I couldn’t stop it. I said, “Sir . . . I appreciate you being here and trying to work with all of us. This case . . . is probably just another day on the job for you, but . . . it is a hard one for us. I need you to know something—we . . . we aren’t just victims. I know that your job is to just listen to facts of the case and settle on words . . . but what about us? We are not just victims. I have a picture with me of five of the little “victims” of this case. Is there a time today when you get to see that, or hear about them? They each have names and stories of how this murder affected their lives. So though I am so grateful that you are here to listen to the facts . . . I just . . . I need you to know that this case is not just about facts and victims. It is about people with names, and testimonies of truths that came after the gun. So please, today as you speak with Rob about the hours that lead up to that gun fire . . . please don’t forget us and everything that has happened to us after it—please don’t forget that we are more than just victims in a crime movie . . . we are people and this has been our real life.”

All eyes were on me. Though I didn’t get to tell my stories, it felt good to have a voice. Rob didn’t end up settling on anything that day. I didn’t even get to see his face . . . but for once since he had pulled that trigger I felt like my voice was heard. Maybe not in the way I had anticipated it would be—but that day I showed myself that I did not have to live in fear. I was not a victim. I was a person. Though I still waited silently to find the answers I craved at the trial, I was not afraid of the person who was inside of me.

Fear. It is like an epidemic. Once it settles in us—it is nearly impossible to set it free.

I feared more in those eighteen months—that I waited to break free from the victimhood Rob’s gun had imprisoned me in—than I have in the rest of my entire life combined. Fear robbed me of life. Just like Rob had robbed his victims of the life they once knew, and Emmett of the breath he once took—fear stole my soul from my body every single day.

In one way or another we have all been imprisoned by fear. It drives us to say and do things out of anger. It passively waits silently for us to allow its power to overwhelm our minds. Sometimes in the dark of the night about a truth we have learned—or sometimes in the light of the day about a truth we long to hear.

Just like I testified to my little girls tonight about the power of God, I have whispered to my own heart many times as I was trapped in the plaguing power of fear—He is there. He does not want fear to destroy us. We cannot be exempt from the power of fear, but we can turn it over to God. We can testify to our broken souls that it is through Him we can find faith.

So on those dark nights when fear is caving in—PRAY. Ask Christ to send his grace. Pray for reassurance that the knowledge of this world can strengthen your faith. We will not fear when we are blessed with faith—faith in God; faith in this world; faith in our future . . . and even more—faith in ourselves.

Faith that even when the scores cannot be settled in a day of words; faith that we cannot control the power lines in our lives—but that we can stand tall where ever we are. Faith did not carry me through the mediation day until I realized that I had no need to fear. That moment when I told a room full of people that I wanted to be seen as more than a victim—that was the second I finally did. I saw my strength, for the first time the way God had seen me all along. And I was standing.

The Tempting Road

In the past few weeks I have had the unique experience of hearing hundreds of personal stories of heartbreak and pain. I can tell you one thing—I have never felt so surrounded by support of those who have been where I have—but I also have never felt such a heavy heart for so many people I have never met. A cloud of gloom has surrounded me as I have stepped into the shoes of each and every woman and man who have told me their story.

I have an overwhelming amount of empathy for all the victims who have suffered because of the actions of another person—but for the first time in my life I have an outpouring of empathy for the victims who are suffering because of their own mistakes.

One email I received I will never forget. It started out like this—“I am like Emmett. I have done everything wrong. I have lost everything—and for what? My selfishness has destroyed my family and I hate myself for it. It is too late for me, just like it is for Emmett. There are no apologies that will take away the pain that my choices have caused.”

As I continued to read this heart felt email from a man in pain—my heart hurt for him. Tears fell down my face as I thought of all the men and woman who have stood at the crossroads where Emmett once fought with that powerful temptation to walk down a dark road for “just a minute”.

I don’t think I have ever viewed the world with such a somber heart as I have come to terms with this truth—we are all victims. At times we have all been wronged against a life we set out to live. We have all been down a road we never intended on traveling—yet so many of these diversions in our path have come because of pain we have caused ourselves.

Infidelity is not something anyone plans—yet so many relationships will experience it. So my heart goes out to all of the victims who have suffered watching someone they love give into that temptation . . . but today my heart goes out to all who have become a victim of their own mind—a puppet in the enticement that was orchestrated to make them fall.

No one plans for their life to be one that hurts others. None of us want to fall into the temptations that have plagued our thoughts. We don’t always remember that Satan has a plan of his own—and he will do everything he can to make us believe his lies.

Not one of us is exempt. That moment when our eye catches someone’s gaze or we sense that someone is trying to be flirty. That moment . . . that one moment—is ours. In that very second our mind stops us to question how we will handle our thoughts, and it is there that we must take the power. It is at that crossroad where we decide if we win—or if Satan does.

He wants us to think that because a temptation has entered our mind—we have already failed—and we are not worthy. It isn’t about our worthiness. Every single person will be tempted at some time—with something.

Just because an unhealthy enticement comes to your mind . . . that doesn’t make you a bad person. It is what you do with your thoughts that will determine what road you will take.  Carnal desires come naturally. They do not mean that something is wrong with you. We all have desires to know we are: successful, valued, appreciated, attractive, glamorous, sexy, wanted, and enough. Being accepted and seeking approval is basic human nature. It is where we turn to fill those desires that can lead us astray.

There are so many healthy desires that can, and should, be kept in the relationships they were promised to. Your spouse can meet those cravings and needs your body yearns for. Realistically the excitement and butterflies may not last, but they can be replaced by commitment and respect that can help your love last forever.

If you have felt the temptations of the world—you are not alone.  That is part of our mortal test. We will be tried and tempted—just as Christ was. It is through our resistance to these temptations that we will learn true obedience. We will gain greater faith, empathy, and compassion for those who struggle. We will have a greater perspective when we step in another’s shoes and feel the pain they have felt, as they have been plagued with temptation.

Robert D. Hales taught of Christ’s resistance to temptations when he said, “Then Jesus expressed His commitment to obey, saying, ‘Father, thy will be done, and the glory be thine forever.’ Throughout His ministry, ‘He suffered temptations but gave them no heed.’ Indeed, He learned obedience by the things which He suffered.’”

Jesus chose to feel all our pain—including those put upon us by our own choices.

He has been where we have been—even in our strongest temptation. He has felt those deep dark secrets that bring sorrow to our souls. He has felt the temptations that each of us has battled, and He has given us a perfect example of how to resist them. He gave them no heed. That doesn’t mean it was easy—but He knew the resistance to these temptations would be worth it.

He didn’t just know of our personal demons, and deepest temptations—He felt them in his soul. It is His sacrifice that makes it possible for Him to kneel at God’s feet and be our number one advocate. He knows how hard these battles are to overcome—because He has.

I don’t think I truly understood the magnitude of His sacrifices, until I was in a position that I too had to overcome my own difficult battles. I can’t imagine the torment Christ felt enduring our sins and failures. Just as He was tempted—and overcame—we too can follow His example, leaning on His strength to pull us out of the deepest trenches.

No temptation is too great, no darkness too bleak, for us to call upon His help. Those feelings that our mortal bodies crave can be used for good. Cherish the relationships that they were meant for—and those desires will bring you closer to God. We can be stronger than the negative thoughts that pop into our minds. We can overcome any temptation that is leading us away from our true selves.

We are going to be tempted—not just in our fidelity to each other—but also in everything we are . . . and everything we do. Our temptations might be as simple as having hate in our hearts. Some might be tempted to forgo forgiveness. Some struggle with: addiction, fear, anger, resentment, entitlement, abuse, and deceit.

Temptations are enticements—when put into action they keep us away from our goals. I believe that Satan is the author of all temptations, for he knows if he can get us to sway on the simple things—he might be able to get us to fall for anything. However, I believe that God allows us to feel those enticements because they are the tools we need to gain greater faith in obedience. When we battle our enticements with God by our side—we learn of our need for Him to help us overcome; but when we lose to our temptations—we are given the opportunity to return to Him and seek true repentance for our sins. Either way, though hard to bear, the enticements serve a great purpose for us in developing our faith in our Creator.

Sometimes it is our reactions to another person’s struggle that can help them remember who they are. One morning I walked into Teage’s room to see he had taken snacks from the pantry in the middle of the night and had an all night party. I wanted to scream and yell at him. I wanted to tell him what a stupid decision he had made. I was tempted to swat his butt and make him stay in his room for the rest of the day. I didn’t understand the irrational thoughts he must have had to make him steal food and hide it from me. I was totally out of my mind frustrated.

I stepped outside of his room and said a small prayer that I could know how to handle the situation and stay centered on my goal to help my son learn from this mistake.

As I walked back into his room these were the words that came out of my mouth, “Teage, there is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.” Now this doesn’t mean we didn’t talk about the consequences and the choices he was expected to make in the future. All that statement meant, to me, was he needed to know that no matter what choices were made—he was loved.

Separating actions from the love we have for someone else is not easy to do, but it is what Heavenly Father does for us. No matter what we have done—the mistakes we have made do not change the love God has for us.

My temptations have never involved a gun. I have not felt the need to seek another person outside of my marriage—but I have been tempted to be less than I am. I fight the enticement to hate those who have hurt me; I struggle to see my own worth. I have doubted my story and feared my chance for happiness was taken from me. I have questioned the goodness of others, and I have forgotten myself. There has even been a day when I have been tempted to smile back when an inappropriate glance has been sent my way; I have been enticed to spend too much time in front of the mirror—or my phone. Some days I have been tempted to just stay in bed; some times I have battled the feeling to hate myself. I have been annoyed with my children; I have been angry with my spouse. In all of these temptations, I have grown closer to God as I have fought my way through them—some successful, some less so.

I have felt the darkness of the world in those moments when my thoughts have wandered from my goals. I have been reassured that there is light—when I steer my thoughts back to Him. In those dark moments when Satan wants my mind and my heart to believe the lies of the world, I have found that I can be stronger than him. I can get on my knees and pray to God that He sends me the help I need to overcome my enticements and not give into Satan’s temptations.

The world can only win if we give temptations a second glance or allow ourselves to be attracted by them. It is not our enticing thoughts that will define who we become. It is the strength we use to control them that will empower us to stand, to show Satan who wears the pants in our relationship with him. He isn’t waiting for us to give him permission—he steps in any time he sees a crack in our armor. He tries to make us believe that those negative thoughts—are just who we are. If he can get us to doubt ourselves because of the thoughts that have entered our mind—he knows that our fall will come naturally.

Enticements are just thoughts; but when we follow these thoughts and put them into action we give into temptation.  We do not have to be perfect—but I can promise you . . . as you take control of your thoughts . . . you will have better control over the decisions you will make.  

So to all the “Emmetts” who feel they have lost their chance to right their wrongs—your time is not done. You have not lost your chance—just as I believe Emmett still has the opportunity where he is now—to right the wrongs of your imperfections. Every day is a fresh start, an opportunity to be better . . . to do better . . . to be more. It is not too late for any of us.

Even if you feel like you have gone too far down the wrong path—it is not too late. Turn to Him even in the pain that you have inflicted upon yourself. Those temptations were real—and the decision to make them was tragic—but those choices do not revoke the love God still has for YOU. I know that God lives, and as His sons and daughters He sees our worth no matter what mistakes we have made. He believes in our dreams and He will do all that He can to bring us back to the light our hearts still long to find.

To all the imperfect sinners of the world—so to every single one of us—we are not alone. We can overcome this world.  Because of Him—even we can find a higher road when we are tempted to settle for the dirt. Because of Him—we can walk away from the deceiving powers of Satan. Because of Him—even on the road to temptation we can find strength to help us overcome. His grace can make us whole. 

Last words

I remember a day sitting at the play land at McDonald’s. I am not sure if anyone else was there, but my kids were just running around having fun. Tytus was in my arms. Tears were falling down my face. I watched the kids as they played, but my mind was elsewhere. It had gone back in time . . . rehearsing over and over the day Emmett died.

Friday, March 11, 2011. I spent the whole day preparing to spend a wonderful evening together as a family. I had made all of Emmett’s favorite foods. The kids were dressed to the nines. I had decided no one would go to sleep that night until we spent some quality time together as a family. I needed Emmett to see that these babies and I knew he was at a low point . . . but that we still loved him with all of our hearts. Everything was just waiting for him. A few hours went by, but he still wasn’t home. I had my mind made up . . . we would all be waiting for him when he got home. We waited . . . and waited. Finally, I heard the garage door open, and his truck pulled in. Emmett walked into the house. He was expressionless. He didn’t notice any of my preparations. I tried to give him a kiss, but he just threw his head to the side and walked towards the kitchen. I asked about his day. No reply. He just kept looking out the window and checking his phone. The baby was asleep in his bouncy chair and the kids had gone off to play upstairs, so I decided this might be an opportunity for me to speak alone with him. I followed Emmett into the kitchen and hoisted myself up onto the countertop next to him.

We chit-chatted for a minute. As we sat there in the kitchen, he said, “I can’t wait to go to a counselor one of these days so he can tell you how crazy you are!” My heart dropped. This was not the conversation I had been looking forward to having. I said, “So that is our answer? We just need a counselor to tell us how crazy I am . . . and that will fix our marriage? You honestly don’t think you play any role in what has been going on in this house the last few months?” For the first time in weeks, I had dared to question out loud something he had said. He stared back at me, shocked. “What the hell would he tell me to do better?” I said, “Do you . . . do you . . . really want me to tell you?” Emmett replied, “Yeah, Ash, tell me what on earth a counselor would ever say to me!” So I said, “Well . . . will you listen and let me talk? Will you let me share some things I’ve been struggling with . . . without getting mad at me?” He said, “I won’t say a word!”

So, I began . . . “Well I think he might touch on the subject of the kids missing you and wanting you to be a part of their lives . . .” He sat silently. I continued, “And I’ve felt you have pushed me away, especially in an area that used to be such a healthy part of our marriage. I feel like when you don’t want to be intimate or even sleep in the same room as me, that either I’m not doing it for you . . .” I couldn’t breathe . . .  “or that someone else is!” He lost it. He began screaming at the top of his lungs. Still to this day, I know Angels must have held earmuffs over my children’s ears, because they didn’t hear a thing. I could barely hear their laughter upstairs over his screams. I had to get through to him. I grabbed his face with both my hands and said, “I need you to listen to me right now. I love you. I have always loved you. I am not going anywhere. I know something is going on with you. I need you to talk to me and quit pushing me away. I miss you. Whatever it is . . . I am prepared to support you through it. I have been to the temple, I have talked to a counselor . . . I know we can do this. I have been asking my family to pray for us. They believe in us. We all believe in you, Emmett. I am willing and wanting to know what role I have played in harming our relationship, and I want to be better for you. These kids and I are not going anywhere . . . but I need you to trust me right now when I tell you that I can’t take much more of this . . .  without knowing that we are all on the same team and that we are working together to finding answers for our family.” He stopped shaking and for just a few seconds, there was a glimmer of the old Emmett in his eyes. He took a few long breaths and said, “Ash . . . I am scared . . . I don’t know what I am doing . . . please be patient and wait for me . . . I am so scared.” Just then, his phone beeped with a new text message. As if a magician had waved his wand . . . Emmett snapped out of his moment of sincerity. Then he threw my hands off his face, and at the top of his lungs, he screamed “You and your f...ing family can just go to Hell . . . You guys don’t care about me. You hate me! You don’t love me . . . I could kick all their asses...” He yelled out threats against my brothers and the rest of us, and then screamed that he didn’t want or need any of us.

In a worked up frenzy, he ran into our bedroom, yelling at me as he left the kitchen. I was shaking, and tears were streaming down my face. I fell to the kitchen floor, not sure about what to do next. A few minutes later, the kids came downstairs. I picked myself up off the floor and tried to put on my happy smile. I sat them down around the table and began to serve them all of Emmett’s favorite foods, now a very cold dinner. As they began to take bites, Emmett came and took his seat at the head of the table, as he had hundreds of times at any normal family dinner. I began to dish up his food, but he said, “I am not going to eat this crap.” He just sat with a blank gaze . . . and watched the kids eat his favorite dinner. When they were done, he told them all to go to the couch to watch TV with him. He leaned over to me and said, “See, I am a good dad…”

They had only been watching TV for a few minutes when Emmett’s phone rang. He answered and addressed the caller by name. It was the close family friend I had e-mailed, begging him to check up on Emmett sometime that week. I had shared with him some of my concerns about our marriage. He was not only one of Emmett’s best friends, but he was also a family therapist—someone I hoped could shed some light on what to do . . . if only Emmett would open up to him.

Emmett stepped into our bedroom to continue his conversation. The baby monitor was on in our bedroom, so I could hear his voice coming from the receiver in the kitchen. At first, I walked over to turn it down to give him some privacy, but then I decided I had better take this opportunity to hear just what he had to say about the problems in our marriage. At first, I could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation because the kids were playing nearby. Since it was already way past their bedtime, I decided to get them all tucked into bed and not worry too much about the conversation going on in our bedroom.

Once the kids were in bed, I went back to the kitchen and took a seat next to the monitor to see if I could pick up any tips as to how to start the process to heal our home. What I heard was devastating. Not a single word I heard Emmett speak about me was true. I knew I had shortcomings as a wife: faults, insecurities and fears. I also had shortcomings as a parent . . . and in all aspects of my life, for that matter, but the things I heard being said about me were out and out lies.

I felt the same way I had felt a few days earlier, when I had walked out of the counselor’s office. The information I heard that night gave me no direction and still left me with no answers as to how to be there for my husband, or what to change in myself to be a better wife to him. When their conversation was over, he walked out of the room with a big grin on his face. “Well, he thinks you are as crazy as I do, so I guess this IS all your fault. He said that you make him sick, and he believes every word I told him about you.”

I sighed, my heart pounding out of my chest. “Well, what about me, Em? Don’t I get a chance to talk to him?” He muttered, “Do whatever you want . . . but you aren’t touching my phone.” So I grabbed my own phone and headed to our bedroom. I felt a need to share the feelings and fears that had been plaguing me for the past few months. I got him on the phone and began to pour it all out. … He was definitely prepared to tell me I was crazy. Emmett was an excellent attorney, and with his well-crafted arguments, he had made certain that his friend wouldn’t listen to a thing I had to say.

In the middle of our conversation, Emmett walked into the room and said, “I’m going to Walgreens to grab some medicine.” I held the phone away from my ear and begged, “Please, just wait, please . . . we can talk about what you guys talked about. Let’s just spend the night together and try to figure this out. … Please stay! Emmett, I am begging you. I need you to stay here!” He shot back, “No . . . don’t tell me what to do! I’m going to go.”

And those were the last words he would ever say to me. I would never hear his voice again. Those were the words that would ring in my ears forever. They would ring in my soul, and they didn’t just speak to me in that moment. They said to me over and over again, “You aren’t worth staying for, you aren’t worth my time. You aren’t pretty enough, you aren’t skinny enough. You’re not worth living for or fighting for.” Every doubt I had ever had in my life . . .  now rang out in my ears. Those doubts rang true and they rang out clearly. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t worth fighting for, and no one in his right mind would ever see that I was good enough. I felt like I would always be just a broken piece of the “me” I had once been.

As I played out the scene of that horrible evening over and over again as I sat there in McDonalds, I could feel myself getting smaller and smaller. I could smell the fries and chicken nuggets . . . My kids were all around me. I could hear the orders being placed . . . people were everywhere. The world was spinning around me . . . nobody was standing still. My children would come up and give me kisses every few minutes. I could see their cute smiles. I could hear their soft giggles as they went up and down the slide . . . but all I could FEEL was the despair that this truth left inside of me. I WAS nothing.

Why hadn’t I been enough that night? What could I have done or said to make him want to stay? That day at McDonald’s wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, when my body stood in the moment . . . but my mind was somewhere stuck in the past, frozen in anguish.

You cannot rewrite the past . . . not even with all the hurt and anger of the world. My fears all came true in one night, and now they were screaming inside of me . . . that I was worth NOTHING. That I was not even worth living for . . . and that I wasn’t even the one he died fighting for.

Emmett knew I wasn’t going to give up on him . . . but he was also so afraid of losing us that he thought it would be easier to let his secrets destroy him . . . inside. I have never been in that situation. I can only imagine that after one lie turns into another, it is just easier to push everyone away, and pretend that everything is someone else’s fault. What if he had just let us in? What if he had told me everything that night? Maybe it wouldn’t have changed the outcome of the following hours, but it would have changed some things for me. I’m sure he thought he’d have all the chances in the world to come back and apologize for the secrets he was keeping from us, the lies he was trying so hard to conceal. I know his words and actions that evening aren’t what he would have wanted our last memories of him to be. It hurts deep in my soul . . . for him . . . that they are.

We will all speak our last words one day. Just as true as the sun will rise, we will all have a morning that will be the final time we walk out our front door . . . never to return. What will your last words be? What ‘I am sorry’ will be left unsaid? If you were to die today, what will echo in the hearts and minds of those you love? What memories will your family be left with . . . if this breath you take right now . . . were to be your final breath?

For everyone who walks the earth . . . now is your time. Now is OUR time to decide how we want to be remembered when we leave this mortal world. Now is the moment to speak our last words . . . every single day. Now is our time to stand in the places in which we find ourselves, and to love with all of our hearts.

Make every moment count. Take every opportunity to make your last words the ones that truly come from the heart. Leave every room better than when you entered it . . . before you turn around and shut that door. Smile as you leave, just in case that image is the last one your loved ones will have left . . . of the “you” they will remember.

I have watched myself feel small. I have believed with all of my heart that I was worthless. I have had regrets about things I said and things I heard. I have felt the despair of words left unsaid . . . but one thing I have come to understand is that the past doesn’t determine our future. We don’t have to be what we once were. We are not always destined to fall. Even if we have wronged everyone we have ever known, it is never too late to change the words we say or the script we are writing. We have the power to decide who we want to be and what we will become. We can’t change the past . . . but we can help write the future.

Now is the time to live with your last words on your lips, so that when the time comes, you can leave everything behind with no regrets. Live those moments that will never be forgotten as the person Christ would want you to be.