No Coincidences

Category: Family

  • Morning Commute, Family, Purpose, and Eternity

    Morning Commute, Family, Purpose, and Eternity

    Today I was driving into work and a thought occurred to me.

    This wasn’t the first time this thought has come to me, but seldom has it hit me so clearly and with such impact.

    The thought was this:

    “I’m driving down the freeway and I’m surrounded by people also on the freeway. Most of us on our way to work. A seemingly innumerable number of us. In Phoenix, this is not too far from the truth. A million of us on our way to work. What is the point of all this? I know the point of all this. So few of these people around me know why they’re here or what they’re doing.”

    This is a common theme I write about. The importance of knowing where we come from, why we’re here, and where we’re going. The three ultimate questions that so few seem to care about nowadays.

    A world of billions and how many know their purpose?

    I know my purpose. I know what’s more important than anything. Two things:

    1. My family.
    2. Assisting, however I can, in the building of God’s Kingdom, or sharing the great and important truths with as many people as I can, the truths that no one seems to seek anymore.

    Sometimes I feel like I fall quite short on that second item. Sometimes I feel like I fall quite short on that first item.

    I feel better about the first item every time I see Ivy, Sage, or Beth smile.

    Sometimes I feel like no one around me cares about eternity and that makes item two difficult.

    But we go on caring for, teaching, taking care of, and loving our families (item one) no matter how hard it gets.

    And we go on caring for, teaching, taking care of, loving, and sharing with our eternal family (item two) no matter how much apathy seems to have set in.

    This is eternity.

  • What is Love? And Fatty Steak Pieces

    What is Love? And Fatty Steak Pieces

    Short post.

    I was eating leftovers from a meal Beth made the other night. It was a steak, vegetables, and rice bowl. I was eating the leftovers and every piece of meat I was getting was half fat. I don’t like fatty meat. It’s one of the few foods I don’t like. I started picking out the fatty pieces of meat from my bowl and realized half of them were thus afflicted.

    The strange part was we’d just had this meal and I didn’t remember any fatty pieces.

    I asked Beth, “When you scooped up my bowl the other night, did you intentionally scoop up the non-fatty pieces?”

    She replied that she had.

    That is love.

    Love is choosing the non-fatty pieces of meat when scooping up your husband’s plate because you know they don’t like it.

  • Ivy Goes Ministering

    Ivy Goes Ministering

    For those who don’t know, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has an initiative we call “ministering.” The name has changed over the years, but it’s always been essentially the same thing. The concept is simple. Minister to one another, teach one another, visit with one other, check in on one another. Christ’s church should be a family and the ministering program is the way that the Church tries to keep its members connected, like a family should be connected.

    Ivy recently went with me on a ministering visit. This wasn’t Ivy’s first rodeo. She’s done her fair share of ministering in her years on this earth. What was interesting about this ministering visit was what happened after.

    One Saturday Ivy and I joined the missionaries meeting with a new friend of the church. He was on his way towards baptism. This was my first time meeting him. This person went on to get baptized and has since become a very good friend. So this was a significant visit with the missionaries.

    Afterward, Ivy and I dropped by a family’s home to say hi. I had never met this family. They didn’t know who I was. This was a true “cold” drop-in. They had two young boys under the age of ten and a brand-new baby girl.

    I knocked at the door and heard the normal shuffle going on behind it. The door was opened by two shirtless boys.

    “Hi, my name is Brayden, is your mom or dad home?”

    The younger one ran off yelling, “Dad!”

    The father came to the door, and I introduced myself. I then introduced Ivy to the two boys. We small-talked for a couple minutes, invited them to church, and that was it.

    On the way back to the car Ivy was, as is normal, full of questions.

    Why did we visit them?

    • Because they’re in our church and we want to check on them.

    That home was their church?

    • No, that was their home. But they go to our church, and we just invited them.

    When will they come to our church?

    • Hopefully tomorrow.

    On and on. Anyone who has been around a toddler knows what I’m talking about.

    The next day we went to church and Ivy was very disappointed when her new friends weren’t there.

    After church, we were preparing for our Sunday afternoon nap. As consistent as Ivy’s numerous questions is her desire to avoid a nap. She was giving us her normal fight before lying down.

    I finally said, “Ivy, you’ve been so good today, if you go take a good nap, when you wake up, we can do whatever you want.”

    I immediately worried about this open-ended promise I had given. What would she request? Surely her most common requests: a trip to Six Flags or Las Vegas.

    Ivy shocked me with her reply. After her nap, the thing she wanted to do more than anything – go see her new friends.

    I’ve thought a lot about this.

    What was it about that visit that made Ivy’s day?

    You know what I think. I think her little, pure spirit realized she just got to do something special. And she wanted to do it again.

    She wanted more than anything in the world, whether she fully realized it or not – more than a trip to Las Vegas to see family or a fun-filled trip to Six Flags – more than either of those things, she wanted to go ministering. Ivy’s spirit knew the importance of ministering.

    Sometimes I wish we adults could remember the purity of that desire – to minister to one another, teach one another, visit with one another, check in on one another, love one another.

    I saw in Ivy what we all seem to forget. Supporting those around us – ministering – is more important than anything. Even a trip to Six Flags.

  • Response to Depression

    Response to Depression

    On April 11, 2020 Beth posted a thoughtful and vulnerable post about depression. She really put herself out there talking about something that is sensitive for her. I was proud of her for writing it. It’s still one of the most read posts from my blog.

    It was the 10th post ever put on my blog. It was so early in my blog that I didn’t even put a cover image for it.

    I recently went back to read that post and decided, 4 years later, and after 5 years of marriage, that I would like to write my thoughts on her post and the topic of depression. This will be a difficult post to write because, even after these years, I’m still grappling with my understanding of depression – what it means, how it manifests, my role in it, along with all the other complexities that come with depression.

    I’m going to pull quotes from Beth’s post and give my thoughts.

    In her post, Beth said this:

    “Sometimes in frustration, I just want to sum it up as “if you know, you know” and call it good. But that is not enough. Individuals, family members, institutions, others with depression need to know.”

    I definitely need to know. Because I don’t understand it. And that’s hard for me.

    I am married to Beth. I’ve seen depression. I can kind of understand it. And yet, I don’t. I know I don’t. I don’t get it. And that’s hard for me. It’s hard for me to try to understand something that I don’t know where to begin understanding.

    With me… I may upset some people with depression here until you hear my explanation (or maybe even with my explanation) – depression is being sad and not wanting to get up or do anything. That’s my impression of it because I’ve experienced that. What I haven’t experienced is actually not being able to get out of bed. I don’t understand that. I don’t get it. That’s the reason I don’t understand depression. I just can’t relate to it. That doesn’t mean I don’t think it exists. It’s just something I have a hard time framing because it’s not in my personal experience. We have tons of examples of things we can’t understand because we haven’t seen or experienced them ourselves. I’ll dive into an example later on in this post. It’s hard to understand something you have zero personal frame of reference for.

    I must be clear here. I’m not saying I’m not empathetic or sympathetic to the challenge of physically not being able to get out of bed. I desperately hope I am sympathetic to it. I hope that I’ve showed my wife at least some of the support and understanding she needs through her challenges.

    What I’m saying is that I don’t understand it, I don’t get it.

    I hope if you’re experiencing depression and you’re in a close relationship with someone (parent, sibling, friend, significant other, etc.) who doesn’t understand it, that you can have patience with them as we have patience with you. Not understanding doesn’t always mean not caring or not believing it’s real or that it exists. It can sometimes mean really just not getting it, as much as we want to. I think sometimes it’s as hard for a non-depressed person to understand depression as it is for a person with depression to describe what it’s like to a non-depressed person. This is exactly what Beth is talking about in the above quote.

    Next quote I’d like to comment on from Beth’s post –

    “For me, it is not a weight laying heavily on me. I don’t feel like the people in the commercials that have a dark rain cloud following over their head wherever they go.”

    Beth is referring to what her depression is like to her. This struck me. It may seem silly, but as someone who hasn’t experienced “depression” (I don’t think) I kind of assumed it was all the same. Beth reminded me that just like anxiety and fear and all the other plethora of challenges we face in this life, no two people have the exact same experience. Depression for everyone must be unique to everyone. I’d venture to guess that one person with depression might have as much difficulty understanding another person’s version of depression as I have with understanding it at all.

    I think it’s important to remember that this challenge comes in many shapes and forms and to have patience with everyone and their unique circumstance.

    This is where I bring myself into it to try to understand and sympathize better.

    I struggle with anxiety. It’s not something I talk about a whole lot. I think I treat it like Beth treats depression: with a little bit of embarrassment and avoidance. But now I’m an adult. I’m no longer a scared and confused kid. I’m still sometimes scared and confused, but no longer a kid. I now realize that lots of people struggle with anxiety. It’s not something to be ashamed of.

    Beth and I have talked about depression and anxiety together. She talks about depression which, as I noted, I don’t understand. Then when I try to explain how anxiety manifests in me, I see the confusion descend upon her like the aforementioned cloud of depression. She can’t figure out what I’m talking about. She’ll say outright, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Do I take offense to this? Of course not! She hasn’t experienced it. I return to my point earlier – people experiencing depression: don’t blame or get upset with others that don’t understand what you’re going through. Your depression is unique to you. Don’t mistake lack of understanding for lack of caring or believing.

    “Eventually, when you’re in the midst of a depressive episode, you begin to convince yourself that this is the new you. You will never be successful again. You will be a burden and failure for the rest of your life. I was very lucky to never feel like I wanted to end my life but, with feelings like that, it isn’t difficult for me to see how people get there.”

    When I read that, it breaks my heart. When I read that it helps me to remember that this is a real and difficult challenge despite my lack of understanding. I can’t comprehend the idea of taking my own life. I think this is similar to how I don’t comprehend depression. I hope anyone reading this that, like me, struggles with understanding the dynamics and impact of depression on someone’s life, can read that quote and realize how serious this is. In whatever ways depression can feel “unreal” – suicide is not. Suicide is very, very real. We must have sympathy, love, compassion, patience, and as much understanding as we can possibly have to help those in our lives that have depression-like feelings. It can save a life.

    “So why don’t you just get up? Go on a hike, play a game, talk to someone, you’ll feel better.”

    This is my way of thinking.

    “I ask, can you still support me and sympathize with me even if you can’t understand? While that seems like a fair compromise, I still think I can try to help others get a glimpse of my perspective. We can meet in the middle.”

    I reiterate my point made earlier. We can try to understand. Those with depression, we only ask that you try to understand that often we without depression really are trying to understand and sympathize. It’s hard to understand something you can’t comprehend. It’s the catch-22 of sympathy. We sympathize, but ultimately, we can’t understand. If we understood, we’d know. All we can do is our best. Have patience with us as we have patience with you.

    “Sometimes that means lowering expectations for a while. Sometimes that means just learning to listen instead of feeling like you must come up with the solution.”

    This is the part I struggle with the most. I’m the standard guy who wants to fix things. Just listening doesn’t seem productive. I’ve tried over the course of my marriage to be better at this part. Listening. Beth will have to comment on whether or not I have gotten better at this. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

    I also struggle with lowering expectations. I’m not sure how to best say this without sounding insensitive but deep down inside I feel like lowering expectations for someone isn’t the answer. I coach basketball and deciding I don’t expect much from my players doesn’t seem like a great answer. In Beth’s whole post, that’s probably the line I most struggled with.

    “While my depression has been well controlled for years now, it’s never truly gone. It can sneak in when I least expect it. I make sure to take my medication daily and be mindful of triggers and warning signs. I try to be vocal with my husband when I feel it creeping in.”

    I’ve been married to Beth for over 5 years now. In that time, I’ve seen the warning signs. I can see when something is coming. I can see when Beth is starting to not be herself. Usually she is short with me, impatient with the girls and I, little things seem to put her on edge, and then there are hours of sleep.

    I guess I have lowered my expectations in the moment. But my way of thinking is so much that aforementioned – “Get up and fight through it”… I can’t help but wonder if lowering expectations is the right thing. Is the best thing to do to let a person with depression lie in bed for hours and days at a time? I’m not sure it is. I’m not sure we’re supposed to lower expectations.

    That said, that’s what I’ve done. In those moments I’ve tried to let Beth know I love her and I’m there for her and I give her the time to “come back.” Usually this is only for a day or two. A day or two where Beth doesn’t leave her room and I take care of the girls, the house, and the responsibilities. If it were more than a day or two, with everything we have going on, I’m not sure I could make it happen.

    This is difficult. It’s made more difficult for my lack of understanding.

    I can usually tell when Beth hasn’t taken her medication. It’s a bit disarming to immediately see the results of this. It’s a palpable and obvious difference. With lack of understanding it’s hard for me to understand how this can so drastically shift behavior so quickly. And yet… when I’m tired, how quickly does my demeanor, patience levels, and personality change?

    I know so little about the body and how it functions. What do I know? I know nothing.

    Ultimately, I have to rely on something bigger for understanding. I’ll close this post in much a similar way to how Beth ended her post 4 years ago. My understanding of God, this life, and His plan makes these things more understandable. We’re here to be tested. We’re here to go through tests that we don’t understand, to test our faith. We’re here to grow. Every challenge in our life is an opportunity to grow. I believe Beth’s depression is an opportunity for her to learn about herself and to become something so much more. I believe her depression is also a part of my mortal experience. It’s meant to teach me something important.

    I hope I’m still learning something important. I hope I’m always patient and understanding and helpful. I hope Beth knows she can always trust me to be there to make up the difference. I also hope Beth knows she’s always good enough.

    The hardest part, I think, about being married to someone with depression is seeing someone smart, and strong, and brave, and kind, and patient, and talented – think she is not those things. There have been many times that I’ve had to remind Beth that just because she doesn’t feel like those things in a particular moment – she is still those things. She will always be those things. They are more innate to her personality and being than depression is.

  • Ivy and Sage Thoughts

    Ivy and Sage Thoughts

    This would have been the fifth installment of “Ivy Thoughts” but instead we get our first “Ivy and Sage Thoughts”! Welcome to my world of two adorable daughters. Come on in.

    Let’s start with Sage since she’s new to the segment. She hasn’t started forming full sentences yet, but it’s time she became an official part of these posts.

    Sage loves the Bluey song. For those who aren’t familiar, you can click HERE.

    In the song where it yells “Mom,” “Dad,” “Bingo,” and “Bluey” Sage yells “Dad!” every time. If she hears that song she stops, stares, and yells “Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” I enjoy her rendition of the theme song.

    Sage is off the charts shy, including around family she doesn’t get to see that often. It’s really interesting because this “shyness,” for lack of a better term, has been a part of Sage since she was a baby. When she was a baby she would sometimes start screaming and crying if someone looked at her. That has continued into her toddler-hood.

    Sage doesn’t like extra attention on her, besides from Beth and I. There was a moment where this became clear. We were doing Sage’s first birthday party at her grandparents. There were great grandparents, aunts, uncles and family there. We put a cake and candles in front of Sage. We sang happy birthday to her. What would normally be a dream come true, a whole cake in front of her, turned quickly to a nightmare when we finished singing and she looked around at all this mass amount of love and attention on her. Sage burst into tears. The collective attention and singing was too much for her to take.

    We’ve seen my family four weekends in the last 6 weeks. Every time we see my family Sage needs at least 24 hours to warm up. She will not go near anyone, gets upset if she gets picked up (or even looked at), and is excessively shy. She will cling to Beth or myself, often laying her head on our shoulder or snuggling her face into our arm to avoid anyone looking at her.

    What’s interesting about this is Sage is the outgoing one between her and Ivy. Sage is wild and crazy and outgoing when comfortable. But if there are strangers around, she gets quiet and closes in on herself. I think I’m like this. It’s interesting how our characteristics are passed onto our children and how some things are just built into us, even as babies. Sage is shy and reserved the same way I was always shy and reserved growing up.

    This past weekend when we were with my family it was fascinating watching Sage’s transformations. At one point Sage was sitting on my lap outside. My mom was in a chair across from us. Sage was snuggling next to me and being her normal (for this weekend) shy, quiet, timid self with my mom nearby. My mom got up to walk inside. The second she was gone Sage stood up and started laughing and screaming and playing. It was an instant transformation. She loves my family once she warms up. Once she warms up she’s crazy and laughing and playing, but until then she is terrified of any outside attention coming her way.

    Sage has inherited plenty of nicknames already. Some of her nicknames include Sagey Sunshine, Sagerific, Rif, Rific, Sage Laura, Roo, and Smudge. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head. That’s to say nothing of the dozens and dozens of nicknames Ivy has given her.

    One last special Sage moment that I think exemplifies strong second child. I dropped Ivy and Sage off at school recently. This was out of the ordinary as Beth usually takes them to school and Ivy was letting it be known this was not in routine. She was crying, saying she was sick, and making a big hubub. While Ivy was melting down I set all our stuff down – snacks for the school for the day, draw bags of washed sheets, lunch boxes, and waters. The teacher patiently gathered all our stuff while I consoled Ivy. Sage meanwhile had walked in through the first gate and was waiting to be let in to go play. The teacher was holding Ivy’s lunch box and looking around. “Where is Sage’s lunchbox?” She asked looking all over the place. I looked around too. It was just there. Sage walked back from the second gate and pointed on the shelf where she had set her lunchbox. She then turned around with a complete, “See the people I have to deal with?” look on her face as she waited to be let in to school to start playing.

    Now onto some classic Ivy thoughts.

    After getting home late from grandparents’ home one night, I asked Ivy for a hug and a kiss. She gave me a big hug then she got her face really close to mine and said, “sticker time,” patted her chest and said, “Ivy tired” and got into bed. Still not sure what sticker time meant or was referring to.

    Ivy flushed a toy down the toilet. I told her if she did that again the toilet would break and we’d need to go to the store when we needed to go to the bathroom. She seemed perplexed about this and continued to ask questions. I emphasized that flushing things down the toilet could break the toilet. “I break the house?” She asked. Seizing the opportunity to potentially get her to understand the severity of flushing something down the toilet I replied, “Yes, flushing toys down the toilet could break the whole house.” This had a big impact. She proceeded to tell Beth that she was worried she was going to break the house.

    The next day we were at church. Beth took Ivy to the bathroom. Ivy looked up at Beth and said, “If I flush a toy down the toilet, I break the church?” Beth told me later, that time I caught Ivy flushing a toy down the toilet was the second straight day Ivy had flushed something down the toilet at home. Beth hadn’t told me because she didn’t want me to freak out. Well, now Ivy is convinced our house is going to collapse into a pile of rubble if she flushes anything besides toilet paper down the toilet. She hasn’t put anything in the toilet since. Parenting win.

    Ivy really doesn’t like crane flies. They freak her out. We explained to Ivy that crane flies aren’t bad. They’re actually pretty good because they don’t bother people, but they eat the little bugs that annoy us. Ivy said, “They kill little bugs?” “Yes,” we replied. “They don’t kill people?” That made us laugh. “No,” we explained, “they don’t even hurt people.” Ivy said, “I’m glad they don’t kill people.”

    There’s a toy I grew up with called Playmobil. They’re little figures that I played with nonstop. I still love Playmobil. Ivy has the same love of them and they are all she plays with when we visit Grandma and Grandpa Q’s house in Las Vegas. Ivy has the same love of order that I do and can spend hours lining them up in orderly groups.

    These little figures have plastic hair pieces that click into their heads. When a Playmobil figure is missing its hair its head becomes bowl-like. The top of their head basically becomes a hole. Ivy saw a Playmobil figure without its hair once and exclaimed, “Oh no! He has a hole in his head. Let me see the hole in your head.” I showed Ivy the spot in the back of my head where hair still doesn’t completely grow. “Awww,” she said sympathetically.

    Before one more heartwarming story, I’ll share a full on threenager moment. This morning Ivy got out of bed and came out of her room. I was just about to walk out the door. Ivy does the cutest thing right now. She walks out and says, “Good morning, Dad, Cory is here” (new alias, Cory Matthews from Boy Meets World).

    I said, “Good morning, Cory, come give me a hug before I leave for work.”

    She walked over and said, “A hug and a big smooch.”

    She hugged and kissed my leg. I put my arm around her and patted her head. She started to walk away then came back and did it again. I again patted her head. She started to walk away then came back again. Same process. I started to think she was broken when on the fourth return walk she said, with feirce anger in her eyes, “No, no, no, Dad, don’t touch my head.” So I didn’t touch her head this time and she hugged my leg, gave it a kiss, and walked away. Then she turned around and looked at me and said, “When you touch my head my hair gets so so so crazy! Don’t pat my head, Dad!” She was holding back tears as she walked to our room to say good morning to Beth. As she walked into our room she slammed our door. The teenage years are going to be great, I can feel it.

    But to balance that, let’s end with a heartwarming Ivy moment. Ivy recently hugged me one night and looked up at me and said, “You’re the best, Dad.”

    I love being a dad.