Friday, March 30, 2012

The parable of the dandelions

"One weekend my girls and I took a drive together. We passed through acres and acres of farmland. My eyes were drawn to the overwhelming number of dandelions that had taken over the fields. The green landscape was dotted with a mixture of bright yellow flowers and white, fluffy balls of seeds.

We had spent weeks trying to kill the dandelions in our own yard, and I thought about what a job that farmer would have trying to clear those weeds from his landscape. My daughters saw something different: acres and acres of dandelion fluff just waiting to be blown from the stem.

A thousand weeds or a thousand wishes.

It's all in your perspective.

My girls were able to discern something good in an object most of us view as an irritant or a bother. The lesson in this parable is so clearly defined: Our eyes see what we want them to see."

(excerpt from "Love Life and See Good Days" by Emily Freeman)

Adultery dating sites

Did you know ...

There are actually dating sites for married people. It's shocking, but true. They brandish slogans like "Life is short, have an affair" or "Meet the hottest cheaters in town." Right on the home page (at sign-in, like you'd have with facebook) there are options such as married male seeking married female and single female seeking married male, etc. Some of these sites are national, and some are local. The ones my spouse got caught up in were free to join and pornographic in nature.

Things like these are not pleasant to think about, but it is important to be educated and to know your enemy. Look it in the eye, and defeat it! So much of what happens on the pornography and sex addiction front happens in a dark, secretive manner. So, help me shine a spotlight on it! Let the world know it is NOT okay.

Because knowledge is power.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

ARP calls for stories

Hey, y'all. Did you know that the Addiction Recovery Program for the LDS Church (the 12-step program adapted for all addicts including those recovering from sex addiction) is calling for stories in preparation for the website they are going to launch later this year? Read the story on the Church website here.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Workin' on the railroad

"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he's been robbed. The fact is that most putts don't drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to be just people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old time rail journey...delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride." -Gordon B. Hinckley

Thursday, March 15, 2012


It was a rough day. Unpacking has been harder than I thought. Every time I open a box, I'm met with more memories like sharp knives that stab my already wounded heart. Today I shed tears over an outfit I wore when I went to my husband's mission homecoming, donated lingerie from my wedding night, bagged baby clothes that I no longer need to keep as hand-me-downs, pitched shoes I've climbed mountains with my boys in, and neatly folded some fleece pants that I snuggled in with my little family on Christmas morning. My little family. My little now-broken family.

And every time I walk into the garage and stare at the stack of boxes that still need to come into the house, one by one ... I cringe at the thought of what might be inside them. How many more knives can there be? How many more stabs can my heart take?

Friday, March 9, 2012

My move

Well ... I survived. I made the cross-country trip, retracing my steps back to the doorstep that I ran from. It was rather like reliving a nightmare in reverse.

Just as some quick background: The boys and I have been living with my parents for almost two months now. The first time we left, we brought only one small duffle bag (and the diaper bag, of course). Now the attorneys have managed to work out a temporary agreement that has allowed us to bring the rest of our things, which is an enormous blessing.

And as I drove the rental car around the streets where I used to live, I kept having the nagging feeling that I was inside a dream. (You know the dream. Every so often you have it, and you think, "Hey, I've been here before! I recognize this dream!" Ah! I hate that dream!) Over the next 48 hours, I frantically tore apart the life I'd built for my husband, my family, and myself in our little house over the past eight years and tossed it into the back of a moving truck. All the while, our family friend and legal representative of my husband stood by helping out and marking things off on a carefully prepared list to make sure we were in accordance with our rights to "remove our property from the premises." I was given strength beyond my own -- physically, mentally, and emotionally -- to do what I needed to do in such a short amount of time. Looking back, I still don't know how I managed it. I did it for my boys.

Next was the three-day pilgrimage the other direction, this time driving the big truck with my five-year-old and my father beside me. (My baby flew back with my mom to wait for us on the other side. Whew!) I wish I could say the journey was exhilarating and liberating. Moments were. I drove across the border myself, and felt the wind on my face and the adrenaline rush through my body like I hadn't imagined was possible. But a lot of the time, I felt guilty and afraid. I guess old habits die hard. I suppose I have felt so terrified and so humiliated for so long that it is going to take a long, long time to rewire my brain.

We drove a million miles. We saw the beauty of our country. We watched the sun set over the Great Plains. We saw gigantic white wind mills (and talked about why renewable energy is so cool)! We drew pictures, sang songs, snuggled, watched movies, ate yummy snacks and did mad libs. Spending three uninterrupted days with my son was irreplaceable. I don't think either one of us will ever forget it. I love my little boys more than words can express. We really missed the littlest one. I had a taste of what his Daddy must feel like, allowing us to live far, far away across the country during my healing process. And my heart ached.

We pulled the moving van into our driveway around sunset on the third day. Tomorrow we unload and I begin trying to rebuild the haphazardly disassembled life that I just dragged across the country in dozens of assorted boxes, bins, and suitcases. I am overwhelmed with so many emotions as our family begins this transition. Making this move is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I'm so exhausted and disoriented and exhilarated all at the same time. But at the end of the day, mostly I cling to my precious boys. And I have to believe that tomorrow will be a brighter day because of the steps I've taken today.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Saturday, March 3, 2012

The Master Weaver

My life is but a weaving 

Between my Lord and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly 

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand 

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares; 

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.

~Benjamin Malachi Franklin