Shelter for a King

The past few weeks I have had a couple experiences that have made me realize there are a lot of people in this world who need us.

For a long time I believed that I needed other people . . . to make me feel good about myself, to fix me when I was hurting, to tell me I was of worth so I could feel it inside. I thought life was about waiting around for angels.

For a long time I believed that I had been robbed: of life, of love, of family—of the past, of the future, of worth, of value. Only in those moments I never once realized . . . I had no idea what it was like to have nothing.

A few nights ago I heard a story about a woman who worked at a homeless shelter who noticed a new lady walking in the soup kitchen door with no shoes on. She ran into her office and searched high and low to find the shoeless woman a voucher so she could send her to a store to purchase some shoes. When she walked out to deliver it, she noticed that the woman's feet were now covered. Confused she looked around the room to find that one of the shelters usual dinner guests was now barefoot. She hurried over to the woman walking around with no shoes and questioned what had happened. The hungry, barefoot woman exclaimed, "Well . . . I noticed she didn't have any shoes, and I have two pairs." The very humbled shelter director walked into her office in tears wondering how on earth she had never seen things that way. In her closet at home sat twenty pairs of shoes, but she had never once taken them from off her feet to protect the naked feet of another. 

It is stories like this that motivate us to want to help someone else, but it is moments where we get to help that we gain a testimony of the impact we can have another person's life and the blessings it can bring to our own.

I have been battling impressions for a few weeks on how to share some stories that have changed my life. So today these impressions win. I am going to share some tender moments, not to bring attention to the people in them, but to help bring to light the others in the story who need you. 

Each week our family does some sort of activity together. Some days we watch a few motivational videos; others we play at the park.  Sometimes we read the scriptures and study a bible story, or attend a dance recital or basketball game.

The last few years we have been trying to incorporate situations where the kids can develop empathy and learn to serve someone else—babysitting for a friend; cleaning our church building; or making dinner for a family in need.

This month we decided to try something new. We signed our whole family up to serve dinner at a soup kitchen at a men’s shelter. Honestly, I originally called the shelter because I was looking for an eye opening moment for my children, wake them up to life outside of our bubble. Help them gain some appreciation for all that they had. Help them to be more accepting of each other, and the sacrifices that are made for them every single day.

I knew it was going to be an eye opening experience for our very sheltered children, but I didn’t realize the impact it was going to have on all of us.

We had talked about it for weeks, but once Sunday night came everything seemed to try to keep us from getting there. Determined to carry out our commitment, we loaded our family in the car and headed to the shelter.

We entered the building, unsure of what exactly we had signed up for. To get to the kitchen we had to walk down halls lined with men from all walks of life.  The kids kept their heads down and walked silently in a row. Once we got to the kitchen, we washed up and were given our assignments. The four big kids would be dishing up the food, and Shawn and I were assigned to help the two youngest serve the trays to all the men who had come for dinner.

The meal looked like Thanksgiving—including a giant tray of Jell-O. All of which had come in as donations. The kids each took a job and did their best to get their assigned food onto the tray. Sometimes they spilled gravy all over the rolls, sometimes the turkey fell in the Jello, but each time I went back for another tray they were laughing—grinning from ear to ear. Talking to the other volunteer that had come to serve that day. She was telling them stories of the men she had met there, and about all she had learned from serving them.

Every tray we delivered was greeted with a, “Wow. Thank you so very much.” One gentleman said to Tytus, “I have been coming here a while now . . . and every time I have had to stand in line for a long time to get this tray. What a treat to have a kind little boy serve me. Eating like a king today. ”

My heart stopped for a minute, as I stared into this humble man's eyes. A king? All Tytus had done was say hello and bring him a tray of food. I looked around the room. It was full of kings, grateful for a meal . . . but even more excited to see a smile. 

The workers said that it is rare to have more than two volunteers to help dish up the food every night, let alone be able to serve these men individually.

After the last man was served their food, Kaleeya and Tytus went around taking orders for drinks. We only had two options—water and tea—but the sparkle in their eyes as they pushed the button and filled those cups was that of pure love. 

Those cups were not the only ones being filled in that room. There were eight of us who went to the shelter that night, thinking we were going to fill up trays and cups for hungry men. I think we were the ones there to be filled. 

By the end of the night our kids didn’t want to leave. They asked if we could stay just a few more hours.

Up on the ceiling above us was a sign, “You can’t save a man by telling him of his sins. He knows them already. Tell him there is a pardon and love waiting for him . . . Make him understand you believe in him, and never give up.” Fanny J. Crosby

Sometimes it is easy to forget that we are all children of God. We almost get entitled—thinking maybe because of our faith we are loved just a little bit more. But if we really study the books that our faiths are built on, we will find that God loves the sinners, the hypocrites, and the imperfect—so all of us.

I always pictured that I would need to go over seas to feed the world and teach my children how to serve them, but turns out there are many who are poor—in body and in spirit—right in our own back yard. The simple act of seeing someone sitting alone at a table, and brining them food can help them feel remembered—like they are eating like a King.

On the way out I took a picture of another sign. It was small and taped on the wall in the back kitchen, “Go make the invisible God visible.”

My heart has been full thinking of that shelter these past few weeks. Remembering times in my life when I was the poor being helped.  Knocks at my own door with trays of food, arms to hold babies, and hearts to bring peace. 

I wish I could go back and spend a little more time in appreciation for all that was done for me. I wish I would have known that many of those hands holding my babies were probably hurting too. 

Sometimes God sends others to help save us—from pain, from fear, from starvation. And other times we get to share our love—and be saved in a different way. We don't have to have it all figured out to be able to help another. In both experiences I have felt closer to God, because it is Him who is blessing us with the light. 

Even the broken, can comfort the lonely. Even the imperfect can show perfect love. 

I am so grateful we live in a world that still has people who care—for every mouth and every heart is numbered in heaven.

We can #lighttheworld. It doesn’t cost anything to bring light to another, and we don’t have to give it up to share it. It multiplies inside the more we give it away.

This holiday season . . . let us remember the One. The one who washed the feet of those who served Him, and let them do the same for Him.

We are all in this together—children of God.

I have the goal to travel around this country sharing hope . . . with victims, with the broken, with the hurting. I always thought that maybe words were my only mission to do that. And then I saw there are some people who don't even have food to eat and shoes on their feet. So these communities that I visit. I want to do more than tell stories and share hope . . . I want to give it. 

Every single person you meet has a story. For some, life has failed them . . . others have failed at life. But we are all God's children and it is up to us to help them find Him. It is amazing to see that in those moments . . . so do we.

These experiences have made me ask some questions to myself. How many pairs of shoes do you have? How many meals do you take for granted? How many times do you withhold a smile, to someone looking for a sign their life is worth living?

I know individually we can't save the world—that is like thinking we can fill the ocean all on our own—but we can put in our two drops to try. We can make a difference. I need your help. Get out in your community. Send money to organizations who are seeking to save. It is our job alone to share our light with everyone we meet. 

Someday we will all stand before God. He won't be proud of how many shoes we collected at the end of our life . . . but how many we took off of our feet to give to one of His children.

Be the light. This holiday season, and forever. 

December 2016:
I am going to be teaming up with some local organizations and Mormon.org for their #lighttheworld campaign. Please join us. If you have any way you can help, us or others, just find a way to bring light the world. No matter your religion, your skin color, your socioeconomic status, your faith—or lack of faith—you can make a difference. 

We are going to be collecting donations for the local shelters and families in need and having a little Christmas devotional. Please stop by and come say hello. I will announce the location next week along with all the details. If you know of a family who could use anything specific please contact me directly themomentswestand@gmail.com so I can get that organized. If your family wants to sponsor a family or if you want to make a donation and will not be able to come meet up with us please feel free to contact me. 

Thank you all in advance. We have all been blessed with so much. As we clean out our closets this week, and make purchases through the next month for strangers in need I know we will have angels assist us to direct us where to go, who to feed, and what feet to cover. Those shoes taking up dust in your closets . . . could change someone's life. 

Happy Thanksgiving. I am thankful for all of you. 
Ashlee

So much to be thankful for

I can't believe it is here again. Thanksgiving.  I love bringing the family together. I love all the wonderful food, but mostly I love hearing the ones I love talk about what they are thankful for.

I always thought, years ago, that blessings were found in perfection. I didn't realize blessings could be found through heart ache, or happiness could be felt after fears. I am starting to realize that one thing I am the most thankful for is joy. Joy cannot be taken away by heart ache, or cried out through tears. Joy is still possible even after we feel broken. Joy has the ability to come, even after the hardest days. So this year, I am thankful for joy. It is not one of those emotions that can always be felt, but when it lightens my heart there is nothing better.

Those moments give me strength to keep looking for the good.

Even through the tears and the smiles, life is full of amazing blessings. 

I am so thankful for the lessons I have learned through the tears that I have cried. For the gratitude I have felt through the days that I have smiled... And for the bright rays of hope that surround me each day to remind me . . . I am right where I am supposed to be. 

Even if today was one of the hard ones... Many tomorrow's will bring the smiles again! So don't give up. There is so much to be thankful for.

Last years post about Thanksgiving: 

Our first Thanksgiving as a family

Thankful

Tonight I had planned on spending a few minutes working on my post about the murder trial, but instead I have other thoughts that have been on my mind about Thanksgiving and what it has been in my life.

-The definition of Thanksgiving is: the expression of gratitude, especially to God.

-Gratitude is defined as: the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.

I have so many memories of the Thanksgivings of my past . . .

I remember cramming sixty or so people into my grandma and grandpa's farm house and eating the most delicious food ever. I remember cousins and aunts and uncles, and most of all, my great grandma who lived in a little house next door.

I remember staring at her paralyzed arms that hung by her side, and listening to her stories of Thanksgivings gone by. I would sit in her living room for hours—and watch her little space heater light up and turn off—as she repeated old stories and remembered new ones. I studied her white hair and her wrinkled skin. Every word she spoke to me was filled with life, and so many memories of her past.

I never thought about the memories I was creating—that they would one day be the stories I would sit and tell my great grand daughter some day. I just figured life would always be the way it was. It never crossed my mind that each holiday I spent would one day be a distant snap shot in my mind. I always thought I would be the young carefree child running through pastures and chasing pigs. I had no idea that Thanksgivings would ever be any different—but I soon learned that truth.

When my parents got divorced our traditions changed. Everything that once seemed concrete and secure—was all the sudden different every year. I came to understand my new normal and appreciated the different kinds of memories that were created each year—at the two different houses. My parents both remarried and our families grew. New relationships brought an even broader spectrum to the memories of my holidays gone by.

I remember Thanksgivings at my mom’s with our blended family. They were full of people, and full of love. We had so much to be thankful for—and we were.

Every year was a different group of siblings, and different memories created.

Soon I was off to college. I stuck to the rotations of holidays with my little sisters—switching off at our parents' houses each one. A few weeks after Emmett and I started dating I planned to go to my dad’s for Thanksgiving—by chance his dad lived in the same town. We decided to go together. We drove a few hours out of our way to pick up my little sisters, and headed to see our fathers.

By the time we were half way there snow had begun to fall—and we were in a full on snowstorm. We could barely see the road and I started to get nervous. Emmett reassured me that everything was going to be ok—that he could see the tracks of the truck in front of him and he would follow them closely.

Way past midnight we rolled into town. We met each other’s fathers for the first time the next day. That was our first Thanksgiving together, and the first time Emmett told me he loved me.

The next time Thanksgiving came around we were married. We went down to Arizona with Emmett’s mom to visit his stepbrother and their family. We hadn’t found out I was pregnant with twins yet—but my belly was huge! Everywhere we went people would ask me when I was due. . . I was only three months along! A few weeks later, on Christmas Eve, we found out there were two babies—and they were identical girls!!

The next few years of Thanksgiving traditions were filled with babies. We always traveled to see family—switching between our four sets of parents. With so many parents, we always had somewhere fun to go and celebrate. I loved watching our babies with the extended parts of our families that meant so much to us.  

Thanksgiving 2009 we moved into our house. The next Thanksgiving, before Emmett died, we went and stayed with my Aunt Diane and Uncle Dave. The house was filled with people. It reminded me of the Thanksgivings from my childhood—filled with cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents.

So many memories of Thanksgiving bring peace to my heart. It is weird to look back, and hard to not wish to have a piece of those days come to life again. So many family members, in my memories, have passed away. It is strange sometimes to continue to celebrate without them.

Thanksgiving is a tradition that has always meant a lot to me, but one memory in particular stands out in my mind—the moment I felt in my heart the true meaning of Thanksgiving.

Shawn and I had not been married long when Thanksgiving rolled around. We had no traditions together—and frankly we were both a bit scared to share any traditions from our previous marriages—neither one of us wanted to feel like a replacement in the other person’s holiday celebrations.

My brother Josh invited us over for dinner. My sisters, and dad were all getting together there, so we decided to go and take Shawn’s parents with us.

Walking in I was a little bit nervous. It was our first real family event all together. I didn’t know how everyone was going to respond to each other. Everything was so new. I didn’t want any awkward conversations that made any of the parties feel uncomfortable—or not part of the family. I hoped no one would bring up Emmett, or things from the past we used to do with him. I worried Shawn would feel like a replacement if anyone was to say how they missed Emmett.

Then on the other hand, I didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to pretend they didn’t miss Emmett. There was a hole in our family from his death. He had brought many of them together and had been the glue to so many of the relationships in our family. I wanted to be able to honor their grief . . . but I was so scared it would push Shawn or his family away.

I became so worried about what others were saying and doing . . . I was hardly enjoying the day.

Dinner was great. The food was amazing. Everyone was kind. Nobody brought up Emmett, or said anything to make things uncomfortable. After dinner we were all sitting around and each person began to say something they were thankful for.

When my turn came I stood up. I did not know where to begin. I felt a lump in my throat as I pictured memories of Thanksgiving past. I stared around the room. Gratitude filled my heart as I looked at each face in front of me. Tears came to my eyes as I fumbled for the words to express the thankfulness that was in my heart. I said, “This has been a very hard year for us . . . As I look around this room I am overwhelmed with so much emotion. When Emmett died . . . we were broken—we were lost. That was really hard, trying to be everything for everyone—and wondering how we were going to make it through. Because of everyone in this room, we didn’t do it alone. I am thankful for each one of you. We have been blessed with so many blessings. One in particular—we were given a miracle. This amazing man who swept us up and gave us a reason to find good in this world. Shawn, you didn’t come to replace Emmett—you were sent as an angel to give us hope. You believed in us in a moment anyone else would have walked away.” I looked over at his parents, “Your son is what I am thankful for this holiday—and I am thankful for both of you for raising a noble man who was worthy to be such an angel. Life has not been what I thought it would be—but I have so much to be thankful for. Thank you to everyone in this room for being there for us—and giving us a reason to remember all that we still DO have. I am thankful for this amazing family and the many blessings Heavenly Father has sent us . . . each one of you.”

I hadn’t planned a single word—but once they hit the air, my fear of anyone else making everyone uncomfortable by mentioning the past . . . was gone. I was so afraid that the past was going to ruin the moment—but it was in that moment that I realized  . . . it was the past that had brought us all there.

 (Pictures from our first Thanksgiving)

Every Thanksgiving I had ever celebrated made up my memories—but the things that were in front of me that day—were going to help make up the future. And I was thankful for them all.

Thanksgiving—a time to give thanks. There will be memories of the years gone by; there will always be hopes for the years ahead . . . but really all we have besides a snapshot and a hope—is today.

Wherever you are this Thanksgiving—make it count. Find the beauty in the room with you. Don’t worry about the memories you are missing, or the ones gone by—focus on the memories you are making. Live in the moment. Put away your phones and your computers—and live for today. Make a memory you can tell to your great granddaughter someday as she sits on your couch . . . not knowing all the memories her life will bring.

Life is not going to be the same every year. People will come, and others will go. Traditions of the past are fun—but they do not make a holiday. Holidays are for relationships—strengthening the bonds of the people we love. Don’t let your fear of losing traditions stop you from creating new ones. Embrace the imperfect things you are thankful for just as they are. No year will ever be just like this one—so that makes today pretty dang special.

Thank you for finding hope, for seeking faith, and for embracing your story.The ideals of our pasts and the hopes for our future are only a little part of our lives. 

Thanksgiving is giving thanks for what we have right now. I am thankful for grandparents who have given me so many memories. I am thankful for my parents who have taught me so much and given me life. I am thankful for Emmett and the love I shared with him that brought me five of my babies. I am thankful for my healthy body that made it possible for me to bear each one. I am thankful for my children and the different gifts they have brought into my life. I am thankful for Shawn and his willingness to see past the fractured parts of me—and find the good.  I am thankful for Jordyn who came to complete my motherhood. I am thankful for our very imperfect family that continually teaches me about patience, hope, and hard work . . . but most of all LOVE. 

I am thankful for the broken road . . . that has lead me to today—because without it . . . I am not.

Here is to new traditions—living the stories that will one day just be a faded memory of the past.

God has given us a lot to be thankful for . . . the hope that all of these memories can last forever. The grace of His Son—Eternal families—Life that does not end. And for that, this day—I am so thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving. May your day be filled with gratitude—and your heart be filled with love, for the memories of Thanksgiving past, for the hope of Thanksgivings to come . . . but mainly for what we have to be thankful for today.

Thankful by Josh Groban