2010

Is it really already here? I am so freakin' glad to see it make it's appearance. I have hope that my life will some day find me in a happier state than I am now. So my apologies if I sound depressing or despondent. But a new year means one more year closer to the rest of my life. Not this earthly life, mind you. But my forever life afterwards.

New Year's Eve is a super fun time for us at the Maile house. I especially love this holiday because there are no games to plan, no presents to purchase, no costumes to prepare, overall no stress! Just getting together with those that mean the most to us and spending time ushering in the new year. When Naki and I got married and our kids grew a little older we decided to pass on the tradition that I had as a child for this holiday on to our girlies. And that is that each child gets to pick one treat to have at the New Year's Eve party, we play all night, eat all those goodies they picked out, and stay up until midnight so we can give smooches to each other at the very beginning of the new year. What better way to start out the new year than with loves. A couple of years ago we added the tradition to go and see a movie before the party. This year was no different. Only this year we were able to use the Movie gift certificate that some very generous people gave us for Christmas and went with m ost of our Maile fam... I just have to say, is there anything better than spending time with all of those guys? I crave time with them. They make me feel safe and comfortable at a time when not much else does. And the girls honestly feel any outing or activity just isn't complete without their cousins, uncles, aunties, and grandparents along for the ride. So thanks guys, for a great night. Oh! And we even used the kitchen for the very first time tonight...

I have so very many thoughts and feelings just swirling around in my head right now. They've been there all night, and I know I am too tired to make them sound like they make any sense. I have both positive and negative ones, but since we're starting a new year, I'll just say the positive one that stands out the most and shouts louder at me than any of the other ones tonight. God knew how difficult this entire experience would be for me, and so He left me in the capable, all encompassing, thoughtful, unselfish, kindhearted, and willing hands of the Maile family. Heaven knows where I'd be right now without them. I was born a Davis and hold that title and love for all my Davis clan proudly and gently, but tonight I want to express how much I feel honored to be a Maile. It is the greatest compliment every time I hear that name to know that I, too, am a Maile. Umas to all you Mailes out there...Happy New Year.

Lost and Found

The week Naki died I remember I was in the car with Line, on our way home from somewhere, and we were talking about Naki's death. During that conversation I used the words "When we lost your Dad..." when describing Naki dying. Before I even finished that sentence, I said to Li,



Mom: Hold on...that doesn't sound right. I didn't lose your Dad...he died. That word "lose" doesn't actually make sense when talking about this, does it?



Line: I know! It makes me think of if I put Dad down over there (motioning off to the side), and then went back to get him later and find him lost...I'd start to think to myself, Where did I put Dad? Did I put him over here, or over here, or over there? Where IS Dad?



We had a good laugh about that, since it's pretty difficult to imagine actually losing Big Naki anywhere, and haven't used that word since when talking about Naki dying. But I've recently had some experiences where I in fact DID lose not just one child, but two. Seriously. Does God realize exactly who he's left these precious children with? I just don't feel up to the job these days.



This past Saturday we were enjoying a loving evening at home. The girls had recently returned from playing at their dance teacher's house (a new favorite activity!), we were getting changed into pajamas, starting the baby's bath, playing video games, men were working in the kitchen, and I was on the phone with one of the girls' Uncles in Florida. After I'd hung up I realized that I hadn't seen Malia since I'd been on the phone and asked the girls who were close by if they'd seen her lately. No one had, but that's not unusual. We don't live in a huge house by any standard, but the way it's designed the basement, the upstairs, and then the addition are in such a way that you are completely cut off from each level when on any of the other ones. You can't see or hear most anything that's going on. So I set off to run upstairs and just check to see what she'd been up to. Imagine my surprise when I didn't find her up there. I came back downstairs and rechecked downstairs...no Malia. Back up I went. By this point, I was alarmed.



I admit it doesn't take much to get me there, though. That is one of the Mourner's Bill of Rights. I don't have the paper handy, but to sum it up in official mourning language, it states that as a mourner I hold the right to pretty much freak out whenever I deem necessary. It is completely common and normal for a mourner to expect the worst. Some might call it waiting for the other shoe to drop. In other words, now that such a horrible and unexpected event occurred in my life I see all future occurances in a new light...I now live in a state of fear, waiting from crummy moment to crummy moment, knowing that surely any minute I'm about to experience another unexpected horrible event. Don't get too comfortable in any sort of peace or happiness...something terrible will just happen to ruin everything. This experience validated all of those feelings.



I now started opening doors and looking in closets. All the way back downstairs. By now the girls could tell that something wasn't right. I don't know what gave it away. Who would think anything was wrong by just looking at my pale face, sweat starting to bead across my upper lip, shaking hands, loud name hollering every 2 seconds? I'd never be any good at a game of poker. I have no game face, as hard as I try. By now Auntie Ginny who was here for the holiday had put on her coat and took off outside and started looking around the backyard, the shed, and up and down the streets. I'd told all the girls to sit in one spot so that I didn't end up looking for one of them as well, and grabbed the phone and dialed 911. "Could this really be happening? Am I seriously dialing 911 AGAIN?", I thought. But I couldn't see any alternative. Before Ginny was outside I'd run outside myself. I'd noticed that all the doors were locked from the inside, something she couldn't have managed with these particular locks if she'd gone out those doors. I was so confused. Again, I am running through all the rooms, starting to fear the worst. After experiencing the death of a loved one I've decided that it's my trial of choice when it comes to loved ones...I would much rather see them just die and be finished than know that something awful and terrible has happened to them that they have to live through. Especially the girlies...and I'm talking terrible terrible things that can happen to girlies...abductions, rape, any kind of torture, you name it. My apologies for being so frank, but death has done that to me. It's removed my layer of subtlety and indirectness and replaced it with abrasiveness and sharpness. And so it's with an amount of embarrassment that I admit that at this point, since I couldn't find her and I was pretty positive she hadn't left, I started to suspect foul play by the men working in my kitchen. What do I know of them? I didn't know them from Adam, and they could have easily manuevered something right under my nose and I would never have known it. I'm aware I sound paranoid, but when you've been searching for your child unsuccessfully for as long as I had been, and you've already experienced a devastatingly life changing event, you expect the worst.



Thank you to the sweet responders from Orem City, some of whom were here responding to my other 911 call the night of October 16th. Let me tell you, I don't think I'm a bad parent. But when they asked me how long it had been since I'd last seen her, and I had to admit that it'd been about 45 minutes, I sure felt like one. I know realistically that no family sits in the same room with each other every minute of every day, but at that moment I felt like I should have had all of them within my sight so that I could say...well, I don't know what I'd say. But at least I wouldn't have had to say anything since I'd never lost her in the first place! They did a thorough sweep of the whole house, and found her, asleep, listening to her ipod christmas present, curled in a ball under baby Ane's crib. Thus, her inability to hear us screaming her name over and over for almost an hour. Yes...I'm also embarrassed to admit that on one of my first sweeps before I started panicking that I swept my foot under the crib but felt the pillow that we always keep under there, and moved on. Like I said before, who deemed me qualified for this job anyway? And I want to know if anyone's accepting resignations?



I did not order any repeats of that awful experience, but oh-so-lucky-me got one tonight. My 3 big girls were at their family's house for dinner and a late-over, so I decided that Eli and I would have some special time together while they were gone. I first got Ane to bed, and then Eli and Eva and I watched a movie. After some amazing dancing and rocking out to High School Musical on the Wii, I put Eva to bed. Eli and I then started making a treat for our New Year's Eve party tomorrow night in our current kitchen, otherwise known as the laundry room. (The kitchen is SOOO close to being completed...any day.) In our lovely bomb-shell-style room the laundry machines were both going and the furnace had kicked on, so I was quite surprised when I could make out some clunking and kind of non-descript sounds over all that noice. Again...never play me in poker. Eli knew I had concerns immediately by my face. I told her to stay put, I was just going to check and make sure Eva wasn't kicking down her door...or something along those lines. See? I at least attempted to make light of everything when my heart was pounding out of my chest.



Recently I tried to describe to my sister one of my not-so-favorite new emotions/thoughts that I've started feeling since Naki's died. I have a very very real fear of getting mugged, robbed, beat up, and overall just being taken advantage of. I've always set my purse in the cart when I'm shopping...now I'm constantly checking to see if anyone's gonna grab it when I'm not looking. When I walk to my car from the gym and I'm by myself I do a parameter scan and I don't unlock the door until right before I get in and then immediately lock it as I'm pulling it shut. At night every little sound makes me catch my breath. Now here's the thing that's so silly about all of that. In all of those scenarios, (I didn't even list them all because you'd REALLY think I'd lost it) I'm not doing anything different, going anywhere different, than I did when Naki was alive. I went to the gym alone every time. I put my purse in the cart in every store. Since we were married I've spent more time at night alone than with him home. The difference is that I feel the unwanted and unwelcome presence in my life of vulnerability that I've never before felt. He couldn't have changed the outcome of any of the things I'm now fearful of if he were alive. I think it's the combination of having him die and not being able to control it, being vulnerable to it, and then just not having such a protector presence in my life anymore that brings these frightful and fearful feelings front and center in me. I hate them. I hate the way it feels. I've never before felt it, and I pray it leaves SOON. No one can fix it. I have to wait this out, just like all the other crappy feelings I'm waiting out, and pray that they dissolve into a distant memory someday. However, I don't know when, but I would definitely like to take some self defense classes, and then teach those things to the girls so they can be empowered with that information as well.



Eli, of course, did not stay put where I told her to, as I quickly walked upstairs to just make sure Eva was behaving. Imagine my surprise to find her bed empty, and her no where to be found. I was pretty alarmed because all the house lights were turned off...all of them, except for where Eli and I had been, and she's scared of the dark. But I searched the entire house for Eva anyway. Up and down, up and down, up and down, hollering her name the entire time. In closets, showers, under beds, in the garage, in the car, in cupboards, in all the rooms,out the front and back door (no footprints in the snow, so I knew she HAD to be in the house...) Yes, I felt the urge to almost call 911 again. If I were to have called I can just imagine them rolling their eyes when they find out who the caller is. But I learned from losing Malia that I better search my bestest bestest before I end up looking like an incompetent idiot. I searched the house about 4 times, you guys...that little girl is sneaky. I finally realized she kept moving hiding spots, because I could hear her. When I was in the garage I finally heard movement above me in the addition part of the house. By the time I came in and ran up there, she wasn't there anymore. After this happening a couple of times I figured out that if I stood still enough and stopped breathing so heavily I could actually hear her stealthy 3 year old-style combat maneuvers. At round 4 of the house sweeps I told Eli to stay put on one of the big chairs sitting at an angle in the basement so I'd at least know where she was. I then made my way back up to my room back up in the addition, held still, and realized that I could make out Eli talking to someone. I rushed back down to see her on her knees, leaning over the back of her assigned chair, telling Eva that she was in BIG trouble. Yup...she was crouched down behind that chair with her blanket. I can just see her joyriding out of bed at first, not thinking too much about it. But after she heard me searching, I can just picture her doing her best not to get caught, hiding anywhere she could in the amount of time she had.

Seriously...resignations?

Close Your Eyes...A Bit Gory

Let this be a lesson to one and all to keep yourself aware of suspended shelving corners, you know, your everyday surroundings, at all times. I've been able to deduce from my experience this evening that it is not considered wise while at your daughter's 3rd birthday party to lean down to pick up a napkin you dropped, only to not pay attention to said napkin's slow drifting flying pattern and most importantly, it's final landing destination (in this particular case, directly under my "surroundings") and then stand up quickly from picking it up and consequently whack the crap out of your head on the corner of a suspended book shelf. It could end up with you seeing double, spewing expletives unconsciously, simply wondering "Why me?", and then sitting in the InstaCare getting 13 stitches while missing not only the end of the birthday party, but also watching your 4 year old daughter's preschool Nativity Reenactment that you were to attend immediately after the party.

On a good note, it's over...I always wondered what it would be like to get stitches. I've never had them until now. Not that big of a deal, I guess, and in case any of my kids ever get them I'll be better able to commiserate with them. Another good note is that once again my incredible family stepped in and filled in for me all over the place. I have the most incredibly loving and giving family EVER, I'm convinced. The foremost good note of them all, the biggest blessing, I think, of the entire stupid thing is that I was able to ask the doctor who stitched me up about the maximum dosage a person can take of Ibuprofen and Tylenol per day. I discovered that I'd been taking way way way too much for what my liver and kidney can handle...See, I've been taking them for the excrutiating pain radiating to my upper and lower jaw, into my ear canal, up to my eye and nose, all from an infected tooth that I had worked on a couple of weeks ago. I needed to know the answers to some of those questions, and I was put in the exact right place to find them. Look at me! looking at the silver lining of things like this...I'm so proud of myself. Almost proud enough to not feel like a complete idiot for not looking where I was going in the first place.

61...

61 days...the amount of days since Naki's died as of today. 61 days since the girls found out they will have to live the rest of their earthly days without him around to enjoy it with. 61 days now that I've been wearing my new glasses...you know, the ones that if you don't have on, or don't have the cause to wear, you live an unaffected life. A life in which you still have troubles and difficulties, but don't realize how good you really have it because you have nothing else to compare it to. My new glasses discolor all experiences I started having 61 days ago...they aren't what I expected AT ALL, but they also bring eternity as a goal into clear focus. 61 days since I've been kissed by my Baby. 61 days since the girlies have had a hug or a reprimand by their Dad. 61 long days of tedious details about things like: life living wills, getting all our ducks in a row for receiving Social Security, trying to figure out what health and life insurance to have now, going to church as a widow, etc. 61 days that included Halloween, nieces' and nephews' birthdays, BYU football games, dentist appointments where I cried in the chair with my mouth hanging open, Thanksgiving, Malia's birthday, Malia's baptism, Eva's birthday, Ane's 15 month checkup, Tithing Settlement, the church annual Primary Program, Christmas caroling, Family Home Evenings, others' wedding anniversaries, the ward Christmas Party, and more that I'm sure I'm forgetting. 61 days of home rennovations that he would have loved to be around for. 61 days of crying...never knew a body could make that many tears. 61 days of being surrounded by God's earthly angels..everyone should have the good fortune to feel what that is like. I never knew people could be so kind, generous, and selfless.

Point is, we've made it 61 days. Here's to hoping we can make it the rest of the time, babe. We just can't wait to be reunited with our own BigNox #61.

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.