Clear Communication

I was laying in bed the other night feeling things that are hard for me to explain in words. I can only try and explain by using words that I've already used before. I lay there and felt such an intense craving to be anywhere but where I was, doing and experiencing anything but what I am. I wanted to escape in anyway possible, but knew and know that there isn't a way. At least, not any that I'm comfortable with. The desire to be out of my skin, my body, my temporal existance was so strong. I lay there and prayed for this experience to go away. I want to not feel this way anymore. I just want to be done...can't I please just be done? And I had the most direct and undisguised communication from my Heavenly Father on the topic. Some may ask, 'How do you know it was from Him?'. To that question I say that I have learned through the years the way that God communicates with me. Or, I guess I should say, I've learned the way that I recognize when He's communicating with me. Certainly He communicates with us all constantly. It's just what we're able to recognize. I've discovered that I can absolutely distinguish His communicating with me at times in my life when I have a certain focus, or thoughts, that are unwavering and are fixated on one particular point of view. In this instance, my desire to be finished with this particular trial. I acknowledge and welcome His teaching me in these moments. He does so by helping my mind to see new angles to my point of view or by giving me ideas, solutions, or insights that my mind on it's own may not have discovered. That night, Heavenly Father let me know that Yes, if I wanted it that badly, that I could in fact be finished. He could make that possible. But to be aware of the consequences of such a decision. My aspirations for my eternal life with my family is just that...eternal life with my family...all of these munchkins. By skipping out early I was compromising those hopes and wishes. My ideal image when I picture all of us together is like it was before he died... We all love one another, we love God, we strive diligently to make faithful choices, and we just thirst for being with each other. Were He to grant me this desire, I would in fact be jeopardizing the very thing that I wanted to escape to. It was a lightbulb moment for me. Was I willing to give it all up just to escape this temporary torment? The answer was clear. No. Never. Absolutely Not. Not an option. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it's one more insight that can help balance out all the negative that I feel.

One More Loss...

I am aware that by admitting the following I may expose myself as even more neurotic than I already at times appear. Regardless, let it be known that since Naki's died I occassionally open his closet when I am alone and bury my face into his shirts and inhale for all I'm worth, just to try and connect with him. Today I was brought to tears when I discovered that I can barely barely make out that beautiful scent that is only his...(no jokes from his brothers, now!). You know what I mean. We all have our own unique identifying scent that is ours alone...no cologne or soap enhancements...just him. And today I sadly discovered that it's almost completely disappeared. I am DYING to just hug that big boy. Can't wait.

I was visiting with one of the therapists yesterday by myself, about myself, which I haven't really ever done. We were talking about traumatic experiences in general and varying reactions to them. He shared with me that these kind of events are very revealing. They bring to light the feelings of those impacted by the event in a very extreme and intense manner. In particular, we were discussing religious beliefs and individual relationships with God, our Heavenly Father. If having a relationship with Him was important to you before the trauma, you will find yourself seeking an even more close relationship with God in an effort to heal. If believing in God and following His teachings was not a priority before the trauma, then you will most likely turn away from God because of your anger and confusion. This isn't to say there isn't a little bit of both going on no matter what side you started on or that this is true for everyone who finds themself traumatized, but it became clear to me that this fact was true for me...I have been angered, I have questioned, but more than anything I have felt loved and know that God is aware of me and my aching heart. Makes no sense...I feel confused at my ability to continue to have faith when so many of my dreams have been unexpectedly yanked out from underneath me. But I can without any doubt state that I know that God loves me and continues to watch out for me and the girls.

I want to write today about testimony and the lack of or gaining of it. Testimony...an interesting word. It is a word commonly used in the Latter Day Saint language. I use it to describe what I believe and know to be true on a spiritual level. Out of curiousity I looked it up in an online dictionary. The two definitions that I thought applied best were, "An open acknowledgment" or "A public profession of religious experience". We all have spiritual experiences every day, or can have them every day, if we choose to. We can either shut those experiences out of our lives and turn off our internal honing device that leads us to Him or turn it on and become skilled at recognizing the Lord's embracing love and influence on a daily basis. Either choice requires quite a bit of practice. You can get really good at either one.

My hopes are that my girls get really good at having their own little devices turned on and tuned in so that they can have the kinds of experiences that help and teach them to realize the greater purpose and meaning in their precious lives. Having their Dad die has rocked their boat of a testimony quite a bit, and for some, has completely capsized it.

Since I've known Naki, one of his favorite things to do at this time of year is to go Christmas caroling. He always manages to drag me along. If I were left to my own devices I probably would go once per season and call it good...If I missed a year it wouldn't eat away at my conscience. I'd check it off of my list as one of the kinds of things I know I should do and one of the kinds of things that I want my kids to experience but wouldn't be troubled if we didn't do it absolutely every single year. There are many great reasons to go Christmas caroling. But I know Naki's ultimate purpose for doing this was because he loves people and he loves serving them. He just wants everyone around him to be as thrilled to be alive as he is and to show each and every person how much he loves them. So last year he told me that he wanted to start a new tradition within our Maile family. This would include us and our kids, his two brothers and their families, my sister and her family, his parents, and several other dear friends and their families. For the month of December he wanted to take the kids to different places each Monday night to carol to people and visit with them afterwards. Uuugh. Thrilling. Just thrilling. All I heard him say was that now I have to rush home from teaching piano on Monday afternoons, help the kids inhale their food so that we can have enough time to swing by the church and pick up some hymnals in time to get wherever we're caroling that week, and also plan enough time for making sure everyone went to the bathroom and get all bundled up...that means making sure we can find everyone's winter gear each Monday. Oh yes...and at that time I had a 3 month old baby...so that also meant that I had to make sure she was fed and well insulated for the weekly cold excursion. Add to that that one of my girls, 3 years old at the time, has extreme phobias of elderly people and in general people that she doesn't know, and we definitely made the perfect caroling group. Oh Christmas Tree...

So we started the weekly caroling adventure. And as much torture as it was for me I can only imagine that it was even more torture for him. Not only did he have just as many crazy kiddos to deal with as I did...he had to deal with psycho post-baby Abby too...not a pleasant Abby, I assure you. And yet as every Monday night rolled around, here comes Mr. Cheerful home from work, excited about wherever our Caroling would take us and more importantly, to whom it would take us. He loved it! And his attitude was contagious. Despite my private grumbling the girls immediately caught the attitude of service and couldn't wait for Monday night to come. And so, as this Christmas season approached, I started receiving text messages from his brother letting us know that the Caroling would indeed still be happening. Even after learning last year that the invaluable lessons my girlies learned completely outweighed the difficulties I experienced in doing the service, I still privately grumbled to myself. There were so many reasons I didn't want to do this.

1. Singing now makes me cry WAY more than it used to, especially when I'm singing songs about the Savior.

2. Doing anything without Naki that I used to do with him is indescribably painful.

3. I have grieving children...the hardest parenting challenge I've ever faced. They are obstinate, disobedient, rude, beligerant, and argumentative. Dealing with that is so much easier at home than in public.

4. I'm exhausted. I did not want to expend the energy to do this that I knew it would take.

Despite all of that, I knew that to honor my husband and to give the girls another opportunity to have a spiritual experience by serving others, I needed to go. *sigh* We went. I was chatting about a couple of things with the girls before we got there, one of which was that when you sing about Jesus it really is like singing your testimony. What better way is there to spend this Christmas season than to sing about the actual purpose of the holiday.

The girls started to unload out of the car and into the frigid night as Line, in her now ever present worrying and anxious way, had the following conversation with me.

Line: Mom..what should I do? I can't sing tonight.

Mom: What do you mean you can't sing? Are you sick?

Line: No...but you said that we should sing our testimonies, and I don't have one.

Mom: You don't think you have a testimony?

Line: No, I don't think so.

Mom: Okay. Do you believe in Jesus Christ?

Line: No. (hiding her head because she was having a hard time telling me this)

Mom: Well, do you believe that Jesus was born?

Line: I don't know...I'm not actually sure.

Mom: Line, I can tell you absolutely that it is fact that there was a baby named Jesus born to a woman named Mary in a town called Bethlehem...it's recorded historical fact. Okay?

Line: 'Kay.

Mom: But what purpose he serves in your life you're not sure about?

Line: Yeah.

Mom: Well, do you believe that God loves you?

Line: No.

Mom: Well, do you believe that your Dad loves you?

Line: Yes, of course.

Mom: Then sing about that. That's what your testimony is right now, today. You know that for sure and can sing of the love you feel from your Father, okay?

Line: Okay, Mom. Thanks for helping me.

Mom: Of course, sweetie. But I want you to do something tonight while you're singing.

Line: What?

(Don't remember exactly how I said this next part...it's a bit of a blur, considering I was trying to have this significant conversation while simultaneously making sure none of the girls were running into traffic in the parking lot. I was trying to get Eva to stop making the little sores on her hand and face bleed. And I was also trying to get Boo out of her carseat. Not to mention my heart was racing while I searched inside my heart and mind and prayed for the guidance that I needed to help my sweet Line. So my memory's a bit foggy as to how my response went...)

Mom: I want you to pay real close attention to how you feel inside tonight while you're singing. Your feelings are going to be the things that will teach you and show you what you actually have a testimony about. Okay?

Line: 'Kay.

So we went on inside and caroled our hearts out. To me all I heard was the missing Bass. Man how I miss hearing that Bass. Even at church singing the hymns just isn't the same without him singing beside me. But even while trying to sing as the only alto while chasing Eva and holding Boo who didn't want to be held I knew that we were in the right place doing the right thing. In this nightmare of my life one of my only lifelines to sanity and someday hopefully some peace is to keep putting my spiritual feet one in front of the other. I am richly blessed when I remember God and others before myself. I knew for certain I'd made the right decision to go as I listened to the chatter behind me in the car as we were driving home. "That was so fun!", "I loved singing to all those people!", "I love doing things with our family!" were just a few of the exclamations I heard. But the one that caught my ear was when I heard Line say, "It just feels so good doing things for other people".

Mom: What did you say Line?

Line: It just feels so great to do things for those people, Mom.

Mom: Whats it called when you do things for other people, Line?

Line: Service?

Mom: Yeah. Remember what I told you about listening to your feelings tonight?

Line: Yeah...

Mom: Well, now you know from the feelings you're talking about that you definitely like thinking of others before yourself. You can now say with a surety that you have your very own testimony of service.

Line: Oh yeah!

I thought that was a phenomenal opportunity that God gave me. Remember what I said about testimonies? Acquiring one and keeping one require a lot of practice. I was so grateful to the point of tears that night as I drove home that I had been willing to go and do something hard because I knew it was the right thing to do. It was a very difficult night logistically, but was more than completely worth it when I realized the impact it had on a little girls' heart who was struggling to feel the love of God since her Dad died.

A couple of weeks after that we were in church for our monthly testimony meeting...an hour when any individual can share from the pulpit their personal testimony. Those meetings are so incredible to listen to and participate in. For me they help me redirect that honing device in the right direction so that I'm trying to be as tuned in as possible. Early on into the meeting Line frantically leaned over to me and with a bit of a terrified face exclaimed that her and Dad used to talk to each other about whether or not they were feeling like they needed to share their testimony that day, and now she wasn't sure whether or not she should do it. Again, picture me corralling Eva and Ane on the pew while trying to say the words God would want her to hear...I calmly told her to stop panicking...she would know, again, through the feelings in her heart, if she should stand that day to share her feelings. No one can make that decision but you, I told her. So take a deep breath and just follow your heart.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later she stood to go and take her turn at the microphone. I could not stop the tears rolling down my face as I heard my baby share her first pure testimony borne through her own trials. Line has shared her testimony in these meetings many times and has always expressed what she felt in her heart...her love for her family, her love for those that live around us, her love for the scriptures, and her love for God. And I don't doubt that she was following the promptings she felt to do so. But for the first time I heard her share what she now knows to be true on her own, through her own soul-searching motivated experiences. She told the story of how her Dad started a caroling tradition last year and how it's given her the opportunity to know that she has a testimony of service and what it means to her. It was simple and sweet, and only I knew of the efforts it had taken on her part to earn that sweet testimony and was so proud of her for all of it: going caroling when she didn't think she had a testimony to share, recognizing what service meant to her, calming herself down when Naki wasn't there during the meeting to talk to her about sharing her testimony, and then actually having the courage to stand and share her own private experience with hundreds of people. Did I mention I was so so so proud?

I am reminded of a paragraph I highlighted in the book I'm slowly but surely reading. I know I've mentioned this book before. It's titled 'When You Can't Do It Alone' by Brent L. Top. This was the paragraph I've had in my mind for some time now, especially after this experience.

"True learning -- life-changing learning -- cannot be obtained without an immersion in the font of personal experience. I am not just talking about a kind of common sense that inevitably comes with personal experience or the education acquired in the "school of hard knocks," but a deeply spiritual linking of experience and intelligence, "or, in other words, light and truth" (D&C 93:36), that causes a person to see with new eyes, hear with new ears, and feel with a new heart."

Even though all of us girls over here are struggling to mend our broken hearts, I am so immensely grateful for our 'immersions in" our own "font(s) of personal experience". Those immersions continue to bring peace to my spirit at a time when we need them the most.

Big Smooches

I miss kissing...don't be so shocked. We all know that we all love kissing. And I miss kissing my baby.

I Wish I Could Take Their Pain Away

This morning as I was driving the little girls to Grandma and Grandpa Maile's house before I went to the gym, Eli said to me..."Mom? Can we get one of those things that helps you have good dreams? (a dreamcatcher) Because all I have is bad dreams now."

Conflicted

There is a strange and somewhat unexplainable experience that has become normal for me...I am consistently and constantly conflicted. Always. Or maybe not always, just sometimes. See? I'm conflicted. I've even wanted to write about it for some time, but then didn't want to write about it because I opposed my original thoughts on the matter. I've discovered that for me the process thus far in grieving and losing Naki has brought a new dimension to me, Abigail. I am a very conflicted individual. Nothing I say or feel makes any sense, and yet everything does. Uuugh.

People ask me often, several times a day, "How are you doing?". How am I to answer that question? I know all who ask it mean that they care about me and the girls and think of us often. Everyone who asks truly wants me to be okay, and yet that will never be an answer that is an honest description of how I view myself ever again. There is never an easy honest answer to that question, because I've learned that no matter what I feel in that moment, I also simultaneously feel exactly the opposite. That might sound impossible, but I'm here to promise you that oh yes, it's completely possible. Here are just a few examples of how I am constantly conflicted.

After losing my best friend I find myself shocked and angered when all those I encounter throughout a normal day are unaware of my new circumstances. How could their lives continue in such a trivial manner when mine has forever been altered? How can they not know and thus not comment on how terrible it must be for me and the girls? And when I see someone who is aware of his death I'm frustrated with myself when they chit chat with me for a moment about this or that and never once mention Naki's name, or don't hug me and tell me they're thinking of me and hoping and praying for our little family. With no logical explanation I find myself feeling the exact opposite emotions in the exact same scenario, maybe even just 5 minutes later. How can someone who is aware of my circumstances think to keep talking to me about it? Couldn't they just chit chat with me about this or that and never once mention Naki's name or not hug me and tell me they're thinking of me and hoping and praying for our little family?

Poor Naki...ever since he met me he's spent all his energy trying to convince me of how beautiful I really am inside and out. He would always joke with me that he could give me a compliment and I was so used to hearing it and had grown so accustomed to his complimenting me that it wouldn't hold the same significance as someone else complimenting me about the same exact thing. Why did I do that to the poor guy? Now I find myself being complimented so many times in a day, and I don't want to hear it from anyone but him.

Please DO NOT think I am morbid or that I need to be put on death watch when I tell you my next conflict. When I look at the girls and spend time with them, I know that they are my purpose here on this earth. I love them for who they are and for who they've helped me become. They are the reason I breathe. And yet I want to die. Hold on folks...calm down. I mean, I want to be dead. I guess that doesn't sound any better. What I mean is that I want to have lived the rest of my earthly years having raised our girlies successfully and be done with this mortal existance already. I want to live with my girlies and yet I want to be done doing it. Makes no sense. For a while I couldn't figure out how the loss of one person could make my existance seem so bleak. Then I figured out that it isn't only the loss of having him with me right now that makes death sound so appealing as much as it is not living with the pain of that loss. I am so exhausted from the emotional pain of it all, I just want to go to sleep and when I wake up be finished already.

I feel a bit disconnected emotionally in this next conflict. You'd think that having experienced the loss of someone dear to me through death that I'd be especially sensitive to those around me who have gone through or are going through the same life altering experience. I can logically feel that I should have empathy towards them and that I should be able to relate to some of the grief that they're experiencing. I even feel as if I should send them a thoughtful note, let them know I'm thinking of them, that they aren't alone, blah blah blah. But I just can't do it. I feel heartless and somewhat disappointed in myself for being so incapable of caring, being so self centered, and being so insensitive to someone else's tragedy. But I just do not have the ability right now to pull myself out of the manhole that I have fallen into, enough to peer over the top and wave at those passing by. I just want to lay at the bottom of it in the underground sewage called my life and forget about anyone else's needs but my own. I hate how I sound when I actually admit that out loud...I know that I should be caring, but I can't think of anyone else but me the and girls.

Driving around Orem and Provo has whole new meaning for me. Every street I turn on brings with it memories of a time I was on that same street with my baby. A time we were going somewhere with the girls to play, a time we were going to the grocery store to just pick up milk and diapers, a time we were driving the girls to dance, a time we were driving to go trick or treating, a time we were going to visit his family, a time we were going to the movies with the girls for our annual New Year's Eve movie night, a time we were going to the softball fields to watch his games, a time we were going to a BYU sporting event. You name it, we've been everywhere in this town together. It brings a smile to my heart to think of all the fun things we've done together in our little towns of Orem and Provo. It also tears my heart out to think that I will no longer be doing those things with him in our little towns of Orem and Provo. Because of that, I constantly think of picking up and moving...just getting away. I know I could never do that. We need to be around his family for as long as we possibly can. I see no reason to ever move. But my emotional roller coaster every time I'm in the car makes me erratically think, "That's it...we're moving."

I've known for a long long long time that I have lived a fairy tale of a life up until now. I'm not sure how Naki's being gone fits into that image I've had. But I've loved the life I've had. Now I hate it. I hate imagining life without him. Every time I walk into a room in my house and don't see him there, the thought runs through my head, "I hate my life". Every time Eli and Eva come to my room crying at night I think, "I hate my life". When I have to take the girls out of school early once a week for therapy, therapy for heavens sake, I think "I hate my life". When I went to see the girls running in some races in school and he wasn't there to cheer them on or give them advice, I thought "I hate my life". At church when I am wrestling all the girls at the same time on the pew and don't truly hear anything that's being taught I think, "I hate my life". When I think of the time when all the remodeling is finished and my dad's no longer here, I imagine putting all the kids to bed and then sitting alone, truly alone, without Naki to talk to, and think, "I hate my life". When I anticipate our anniversary on which we always went to the temple to perform temple sealings, and him not being here and me going by myself, I think, "I hate my life". When I was getting all the baptism details and birthday party details done this past week and he wasn't there to discuss my plans with I thought, "I hate my life". When I was watching Monday night football and he wasn't there to tell me which guy had come from which college team, which guy was a rookie, which guy he had on his fantasy football team, and what BYU player had been drafted there, I thought "I hate my life". When I wake up, go to the gym, pick up and drop off kids, and overall go anywhere where there are other human beings that I smile at when I'm screaming inside, I think, "I hate my life". When I hear people talk about how blessed they are with their sweet little family, I think "I hate my life". When I see loving couples holding hands, talking, or even arguing, I think "I hate my life". And yet, when I come home from a hard day at church and find a sweet little bag on my front porch with a cute little pair of Christmas socks for each of the girls, I think ....well, I don't know what I think, but I don't think "I hate my life". When I go to Malia's birthday party, and everyone there is my extra pair of hands and arms in holding my baby, chasing one of my babies, helping clean and pick up garbage and put away tables and chairs, I think "I'm not alone". When I go to the grocery store and pay for my groceries with a gift card that the responders from that horrible night from the Orem Fire Department dropped off for us, I think "I am not alone". When I arrive to church hoping to find a seat and see a dear friend sitting sideways with her legs outstretched, saving the bench where we've always sat, I feel "I am not alone". When a sister in the ward offers to take Ane out of Sacrament Meeting so I can hear something that's being said, I feel "I am so loved". When I am trying to prepare a talk for Malia's baptism and the thoughts just won't solidify and I can't get anything prepared, only to stand at the podium and have words flow so smoothly and effortlessly, I feel "God really is aware of Malia and me today". When I come home on any given day and see complete strangers working for nothing on a house that is everything to me, I think "God is taking care of you, Abby". When one of my daughters is struggling to believe in God, and words to answer her questions come so easily and quickly into my mind, I know, "God loves this little girl...and he loves you, too".

Because of all the remodeling, repainting, and such, most of all the pics we had on the wall are down and stored in one room until all the work is finished. As a result, I really haven't seen many pics of him since he's died. Plus, I was really bad about being able to decide where to hang pictures, and as a result didn't really have that many pics of any of us on the walls to start with. I've pulled one or two pictures of him out and put them where the girls can see them, and in a couple of weeks they'll all get hung. But as a result I havn't had to see his face on a consistent basis since he's died. It's relieving because looking at him is so extremely painful. And yet I want to dig out all the pictures of him that I can find. While looking at them I try to burn their images in my mind for fear of forgetting. But I've noticed that after I've looked at pictures of him I set myself into a downward spiral of gloom and sadness. I've discovered that I feel less empty and bleak when I don't see his face as often. Sounds terrible, I know. But looking at his pictures, which are usually pictures of either me and him or him and the girlies, are just so damn painful that it's almost easier to avoid them...it helps avoid the feeling of not being able to breathe. Just for survival reasons I find myself avoiding the pictures of him. I want to see them, I don't want to see them. I want to see them, I don't want to see them.

Conflicted.

Surprise of the Day

I'm trying to get things ready for Malia's baptism. She's asked me to speak on her special day, and so I've been trying to gather my thoughts. I thought it would be special to include in my talk some of Naki's own thoughts on baptism, and so tonight I've been searching for the letters Naki wrote me while we were missionaries, and I can't find them! I'm positive I kept all of them...but their whereabouts are a great mystery to me...I'm trying not to hyperventilate when I think about not being able to find them. They're just letters, not him. But still, I really want to find them. I do have his missionary journal, which for him is more like a journal just from the Missionary Training Center...he didn't write much consistently after that. But it's been cute to read his words from when he was 19. He copied a practice of mine with his missionary journal. Something I did as a teenager with all of my journals was name each one...seemed to make it more personable to write to 'someone', and so I named each journal. At the beginning of his missionary journal he wrote the following:

"With this journal I wanted to do a little something different. I decided to give this journal a name. I got this idea from my sweetheart Abby. I miss her...I especially miss talking to her. We used to have communications at least 2 or 3 times a week. So with this in mind I name my journal after my sweetheart, Abigail."

One entry I discovered tonight was dated February 26, 1997. It seems he'd just received a letter from me in which I vented some frustrations to him that I'd been feeling about some things he either had or hadn't been including in his letters to me. I can't remember the letter he'd just received, but I do remember that I missed him terribly. It seems that the two years we spent apart as full time missionaries was a dry run for our time apart from each other now. Here's what he wrote to me in this particular entry:

"Right now I want to say I love you and wish I could be with you every second of the day...that's why I miss you like crazy...I don't know why you get like this, thinking that you're alone and things. Don't you think I go through those things? Think about it. I'm here with people I never knew before in my earthly life and you talk about lonely. The only comfort I get from being here by myself is from the Lord. He makes up the difference in my life now. Know that I'd love to be there with you every second of the day but once I think about that, the days turn into eternity and just drag. I'm focused on the work because 1. it is the most important work in the church and 2. because the harder I work the faster the time goes and we can be together again, forever. So don't think like that again, okay Abby? You're not alone. I pray every night for you and worry about your safety. I'm there with you in my heart."

I know he didn't write those words for these circumstances, but they're my coveted Surprise of the Day.