No Coincidences

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  • The Journal Entry of Beth’s Conversion Story

    The Journal Entry of Beth’s Conversion Story

    This is my wife, Beth’s testimony exactly as written.  Names have been changed.

    In a future post I will give some of my thoughts about this, but for now, the power of her testimony should stand on its own, unencumbered by any comments I could hope to make.

    Here it is.

    The Journal Entry of Beth’s Conversion Story

    April 20, 2016

                   I just read my patriarchal blessing for the second time since I got it. It confirmed promptings I’ve been having lately that I should do some journaling for myself and posterity so, even though it is past midnight I felt it better to do this than mindlessly fall asleep to some Netflix show. The past few years have had so much I don’t know how to fit everything I should write to remember. So, because of my failings as a journal writer, it will have to be a highlight reel of life. I just feel some changes that have occurred are too important to neglect to include.

                   I am in my third year at ASU. I love it, I love learning, but my diagnosis with clinical depression in October 2015 has really been a roadblock in my ability to work hard. Luckily, after dropping out for a semester, I’m slowly starting to feel like myself again. I’m not taking medication anymore but I’ve been hiking often and the feeling I get from pushing myself and being physically fit really serves as a great anti-depressant. So I’m back in school with just 9 credit hours, but hard classes. (1920’s senior thesis, history of college sports, and existentialism) I will probably graduate in about a year and do some sort of graduate school program. I previously had been dead set on going to law school. However, I’ve had to rethink my career path after being diagnosed with the depression episode. I don’t really trust myself to be able to go through law school. I always had 100% confidence in my academic capabilities. Now, I’ve taken a real hit to that confidence. My patriarchal blessing does mention that through my righteousness I will have many different career options. That has been comforting.

                   Life has been full of changes the past year. I think the biggest one that I will write on is about the ending of my very serious relationship with John for 2 ½ years and my decision to come back to church. I dated him from senior year of high school all the way up to just short of my 21st birthday. I really thought I loved him. He and I had plans to even get married one day. We were HS sweethearts and he was what I considered my first real love. I feel a real sense of anger at the situation but I also can’t help but think I will always love who he used to be and what we used to have.

    Initially, since about sophomore year of high school, I was set on not being LDS. I didn’t have a testimony of the Book of Mormon, I didn’t believe what the prophets spoke about. I wanted to live contrary to many of the commandments. I never cared to enter the temple. I was prepared to live that life with John too. We were definitely not living by LDS standards and that is exactly what I wanted. I was perfectly happy breaking the word of wisdom and living contrary to the law of chastity, among other things. Our relationship was never perfect. We fought often. He drank. I remember one day he drank so much he wound up in the hospital knocked out. For approximately 5 hours I sat there watching him, angry, upset, feeling betrayed, but wanting to show compassion. He cheated on me many times. I would often find messages on his phone texting other girls. He was perfectly fine with going out and getting drunk with other girls when I wasn’t around. Dramatic scenarios like these were often. I didn’t like who I was when I was with him. But I lost touch with who I used to be or who I could be. And when there were good times, I felt some amazing love. I just started to realize I had a better potential and I deserved better.

                   The changes came slowly at first. I remember when Clark was on his mission, I had one night where I felt so very, extremely alone. Not just physically but much deeper than that. It was dark. I was overcome by hopelessness. It was a feeling I almost lack the ability to explain. I now think it was a result of separating myself so far from the spirit that the light from Christ dimmed. I was prideful. I hadn’t prayed in years. But I did. I prayed in that moment. Desperately. I pleaded with God, please take this feeling from me even though I know I don’t deserve it. Immediately, my fear dissipated and calm overwhelmed me. That was the first time I understood how real prayer was. I wish I could convey that feeling to others. It was painful, scary, optimistic, and inspiring all at once. That was a start.

                   Any institute classes at ASU helped too. I didn’t mind studying the gospel from an intellectual standpoint so I liked going. I read scriptures. I discussed the gospel. I often was so eager to share what I learned with John. Sometimes he’d listen, other times he’d pretend to. It was awkward. I wanted to share what I found profound and he was resistant. But again, there were slow changes creeping in. I was realizing what the words of the gospel could mean. And he was realizing that he wanted nothing to do with it.

                   The real changes began around the start of 2015. I had quit or was about to quit partaking in most of the big sins I had been living in for years. I had already quit drinking and I was ready to cut-off the intimate aspect of my relationship with John. I had an institute class on the Teachings of the Latter-Day Prophets at this time. For some scheduling reason, I missed that class often. To make up absences we had to write papers on general conference talks. (Which I had never listened to previously in my life) So I did it. And that was a blessing in disguise. Again, I took it as an intellectual opportunity, like listening to Gospel TED Talks. At first I learned a lot. But then I began to feel a lot. I studied the atonement. And the friendship and companionship of Christ. I studied talks on being genuine and being compassionate. I began to slowly feel a change of heart, a softening of a heart that had been proud for many years. And even though I thought I was happy before, I started to feel joy. Real joy. And I started to feel love for others. Real Christ-like love. And I started to understand my divine purpose. The real potential I could live up to. Then came the dreams that gave the final push.

                   I’ve had vivid and detailed dreams for a few years now. Often they are silly. But often they are profound. Sometimes they even come true. I know that for many of us, the spirit speaks to us in dreams. For context, it is important to know I never wanted to get married in the temple before in my life and I never had been the kind of girl to dream excessively of my wedding day either. However, I had about four dreams where I was walking out of the temple in a white dress looking happier than I’d ever been lovingly holding the hand of a man. These dreams always ended right before I saw the face of the man I married. One night, I had the fifth identical dream but this time the man was John.

                   In addition, I had another dream that my friend Mike was home from his mission, in white, crying and saying how proud he was while hugging another person dressed in white. As he turned around it became clear it was John on his baptism day! So with these dreams I thought I knew what it meant! John and I would change our ways, repent, convert, and live happily ever after.

                   But of course that isn’t what happened. As a side note, I now have a different interpretation of those dreams. I think God was showing me what could be. What I should want to be. And as I saw that possibility play out in my dreams but realized that it could not be a reality in real life I had to consider what I truly wanted and expected for myself. After I broke up with John I had the wedding dream only once more. It was once again identical to the dreams before. But I saw the man I was going to marry. It isn’t like I could list a particular physical look I had for him but it’s as if I knew who he was anyway. As if the trust and love I had for him made me know him. And it made me desire so much to strive to one day be endowed so that I will get to marry that man and walk out of the temple with him one day. That was the first time I wanted to go through the temple. I now hope to be endowed and sealed one day.

    So after these dreams I tried to appeal to John, first by asking him to quit drinking. I wanted so badly to have the life I thought I knew we could have. But we were sent here with free will and someone needs to want to change in order to truly change. He did not want to change. The last few months were devastating. I thought I loved John, I was otherwise so happy, but my relationship was suffering. I was starting to open up to the gospel, to build a relationship with Christ. I was doing well in school, I was making many friends. But we had diverged. Thankfully I was blessed to be given so many obvious signs of what was right that I knew without any doubt there was no turning back from the Gospel at this point. I either go forward with this change next to John or I go forward without him. But I had to go forward And so June came, he sat on my front doorstep. We talked kindly but distanced. And that was it. I was sad. The man I thought I loved was gone. But inexplicably I felt so at peace. It felt okay. I felt optimistic. I sensed a hard path ahead but I knew it was going to be worth it.

                   So here I am with that journey under my belt. It has left me at times feeling damaged. I’m generally a confident person but I took a real hit to my self worth after this. The depression has made me feel like I’m not as smart or capable as I thought I was. My failed relationship made me feel I’m not worth someone’s loyalty or commitment That no matter how pretty or smart or funny or confident they think I am that a life with me wasn’t worth giving up something as trivial as alcohol. That my friends weren’t wiling to stick around when I chose to give up sin and follow Christ. But the gospel keeps me going.

                   I can’t wait to love someone that chooses to love me fully back. I hope one day I can trust myself to do that. I hope one day I can give 100% of my love and feel it back. I want to trust that I’m worth someone’s loyalty. I want to trust I’m worth a righteous man. I pray to become better through this trial so I can be worth it one day.

    And in the end of this trial I realize I’m grateful for it. I look to those times where I was given a sign and a testimony loud and clear when I’m beginning to doubt. And I’ve doubted. I was proud enough to think blessings would rain down on me immediately after this big step. They didn’t, at least not in the form I had expected. I’ve dated in the YSA ward but there hasn’t been anyone I’m seriously in to. In fact I almost find myself incapable of emotionally attaching to anyone. I’ve dealt with crippling depression. I lost friends. People decided they would choose John over me. They decided it was better to have the partying John than the sober Beth. I lost direction in my career path. But among all these trials I now understand what is temporary and what is eternal. It was the most alone I had ever felt. But I finally knew I wasn’t really ever alone.

                   I had to go through my own repentance process with the bishop. (Farnsworth then Thurston) It was scary. But I now love and feel the atonement for real. Every time I pray, I thank Heavenly Father for Christ’s atonement. I needed the atonement then, and I need it now. My testimony in the atonement holds me over when my testimony in other aspects is less stable. My testimony of the eternal nature of being is so strong. My testimony of Christ’s personal relationship to us through prayer is tangible.

                   I love Christ. I feel him there because he knows my pain. He’s been my friend when all hope was gone. I’m not completely myself again but I find joy in reaching out to those who I sense also feel alone, damaged, or scared. My trial has given me an ability to reach out to those in pain just as Christ does. And I feel real, Christ-like love that I’ve never felt before. I look at people with a new light now because of it.  I try to understand the principle of forgiveness because I need it. I long to maintain an eternal perspective because I knew what challenges there were to face on Earth yet I boldly said I was ready to do it. And I will continue to do so.

                   I look forward to the day I can look back and understand the ‘why’ of my experiences and trials. But for now I will press on with hope and gratitude. I know my Savior lives. I hope I never doubt it! I hope I never forget. I am so grateful for the hard times. I’m grateful for humility and for this clarity. I’m so grateful for my story.

    Elisabeth Brooke Cannon

  • RIP Coach

    RIP Coach

    I often think about the people God put around me in my life.  I’m obviously not the center of the universe, but sometimes, when I think about all those who have looked out for me throughout my life, it’s hard not to feel like that.

    There’s an individual in my life who played a critical role at two of the most important junctures in my life.  He was a dear friend, coach, mentor. 

    What’s so funny is, Coach Gonzalez never actually coached me.  Jessie Gonzalez was the athletic director at my high school.  Coach Gonzalez got close with most of the teams he looked over as athletic director.  The basketball program was no exception.

    My senior year at Cimarron we went to a tournament in Hawaii.  Coach Gonzalez came on that trip to “watch” us, or chaperone, I guess.  On that trip, Coach Gonzalez went from Coach Gonzalez to Gonzo, or just Coach.

    Gonzo looked out for me throughout high school.  Many don’t know this now, but I needed a lot of looking out for at that time. 

    I had bonded with Gonzo a bit on the Hawaii trip, but he wasn’t someone I would have considered a close friend or confidant.  That is until I really, really needed someone to talk to.  Then he was there, at the most difficult time of my life.  Somehow, for reasons I won’t understand until I see the bigger picture, Gonzo was the phone call I made.  He helped me through some very difficult things. I look forward to speaking to God, and Him showing me how critical that moment was.  I look forward to seeing why Gonzo was there at that precise moment, and why God made sure I reached out to him.

    We stayed in loose contact as I left high school.

    Gonzo had a few of us he took under his wing and looked out for.  I felt truly blessed to be “one of his boys.”

    After high school, this fascinating thing happened where the roles Gonzo played in my life morphed.  He went from 100% mentor to 50% mentor and 50% friend.  Gonzo was only 11 years older than me.  Not that many years, in the grand scheme. 

    In 2015 I went to a birthday party in Houston.  It was a relative of Gonzo’s and made no sense for me to be there.  It was really just an excuse to go to Houston and see Gonzo, who had moved to Michigan, and I hadn’t seen since high school.  That trip is so memorable.  I’m not going to elaborate any further.  During that trip Gonzo stayed a 50% mentor but also became one of my closest friends, a lifelong friend.

    The second, extremely critical cross roads in my life-  I was trying to return to church.  Who did I turn to?  Who talked me through a year plus of difficulty, repentance, trials, temptations, questions, doubts, uncertainties?  Countless hours were spent on the phone with him.  He was going to see me through.

    Gonzo isn’t a member of my church.  He’s a member of a grander organization.  He’s a brother and an angel that was here to look over me and guide me.  I’m not sure I’d be an active member of my church today without his guidance. That was the power of Coach.  He didn’t need to be a member of my church to help me with something so important.  He only needed to listen, love me, help me.

    Another moment I’ll never forget, I was only a couple months into trying to return into activity in the Church.  Satan was hard at work in those first months.  I could go on and on about what he put before me during those months.

    One of those temptations was a staycation at my favorite place at the time, Talking Sticks Resort.  I was still playing poker.  During this weekend that TSR gave me a free suite to stay in, there was a huge summer pool party.  My room overlooked the pool, of course.

    Imagine me for a moment.  Just a couple months into not drinking.  Here I am at Talking Stick Resort, in a super nice room, overlooking a pool filled with beautiful people and all my temptations.  I was literally in the great and spacious building.  I had alcohol in the fridge.  For those who don’t know this feeling, I can’t describe the pull.  I don’t have words to describe the need to drink alcohol, go to the pool, let myself fully embrace this staycation.

    I had worked so hard.  I was going to church and making good choices.  Surely, I could give myself this one weekend, right?

    I was going to drink and join this party.  There was really no doubt.  As much as I told myself I wouldn’t, I was going to. 

    I can’t remember if I called him.  There’s a chance he called me.  I talked to Coach Gonzo.  In true Jessie fashion, he didn’t tell me not to drink.  He talked me through it.  He told me it was a choice I had to make.  He reminded me how hard I’d worked to return to church and stop drinking.

    Then, almost nonchalantly, as if an afterthought, Coach said the most critical thing.  He said, “You can drink and get wild and crazy, but man, after not drinking for as long as you’ve gone, tomorrow is going to suck.  That hangover is going to be bad.  Hangover aside, how are you going to feel about yourself in the morning?”

    That was all I needed to hear.

    For those wondering, I did join the pool party.  I hung out, walked around.  I didn’t embrace the party.  I owe Jessie, Coach, Gonzo for that.  I may owe him my now 5 years of sobriety.

    Jessie Gonzalez left this stage of his coaching journey 6/8/21.  He had some new people to coach and mentor, and he couldn’t do that here.  I will miss him dearly.  I already wonder who I will turn to when I need to be guided through the next trial.  Part of me thinks he could move on because he already got me to the point where I can take care of myself.  Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need him anymore. The greater and more comforting truth is that you always need a mentor and friend like Gonzo, and he’s still there for me, more than ever now.

    He was light.  And he was joy.  Nobody brought together a room like him. 

    He protected me from harm while here, both physically and spiritually.

    I thought of something interesting last night.  It hit me that Gonzo likely, just recently, had his life review.  It brought me so much joy to think of him getting to see all the good he had done.  I considered him getting to see every moment he impacted me and how big a role he played in my life.  I thought about the net of goodness and light he spread while he was here.

    It brought a smile to my face to know that he got to see his Savior.  He was embraced, and loved, and free from the difficulties of this world.

    He can coach in purity now, for, a purer heart there never was. 

    I miss him a lot now. Though I can’t hear his voice or see his face, he’ll continue to be with me, coaching from above. I look forward to the reunion.

    I love you Jessie, Coach, Gonzo, and I thank you for all you did for me.

  • Facing Death

    Facing Death

    “We need to wait for a helicopter.  It’s 2 hours by road to the nearest hospital.  You might have internal bleeding in your brain.  You might die before we could get you there.” 

    I was in the back of an ambulance for the first time.  It’s an interesting thing to wonder if you’re being melodramatic about dying and then being told by an EMT that you might die.  It becomes a real possibility, if it wasn’t already. 

    My family rented ATVs over the weekend.  We rented a cabin and stayed in Duck Creek, near Cedar City, Utah.  We had the ATVs for four hours.  My family went out first while Beth and I stayed at the cabin with Ivy.  Then Beth and I swapped in for my mom and sister. 

    There were nine of us total and three ATVs.  Two of the ATVs held four people and one of them held two.  When Beth and I swapped in I drove with Beth in the front seat, my dad and brother in the back seat.  We drove to Mammoth caves and explored.  After 30 or so minutes looking at the caves, we went back to the ATVs to off road for our last 90 minutes before the ATVs had to be returned. 

    Moments before the accident

    Beth hadn’t driven so we made her drive.  My brother Garrick and his girlfriend Arielle rode in the back.  We reminded Beth that if you’re not flipping the ATV you’re not trying.  My uncle Jon led in the two-seater and my brother Dresdan drove the other four-seater behind them.  We took up the rear so Beth could go at her own pace and not feel the pressure of Dresdan bearing down on her.

    I had one glove off because I was eating airheads from my pocket. Beth was driving as cautiously as expected and the other two vehicles got ahead of us.  I had a thought cross my mind: ‘I bet it would be safer to have no seatbelt on.  It would probably be safer to be thrown out of this thing than stuck and crushed inside of it.’  I did have my seatbelt on.  That thought I had was undoubtedly wrong.

    I’ll describe what I remember next.  Then I’ll tell the whole story from the perspective of those who stayed conscious throughout. 

    We were coming up on a turn.  We were not going that fast.  I had driven with much more reckless abandon when I was behind the wheel.  We came up on this turn and Beth began to break and then we started to tip.

    The next thing I remember was feeling pinned down and stuck.  I couldn’t see anything.  But I was stuck.  My arm couldn’t move.  I believe I started yelling.

    The next thing I remember was the feeling of flipping over.

    I still couldn’t see anything. 

    The next thing I remember was hearing crying and screaming from Beth.  I told her I was going to be ok.  It was going to be ok.  I still couldn’t see anything.

    The next thing I remember was moving.  Jon was in the driver’s seat next to me.  Someone was behind me holding something down firmly on my head. 

    It is fascinating how the brain works in moments of trauma.  How was I thinking so clearly?

    I asked if an ambulance was called and was told yes.  It occurred to me, we drove way out into these trails.  We were at least 30 minutes from anything.  I asked who was behind me.  Dresdan.  It crossed my mind: the firmer whatever is on my head is being pressed down, the more likely I am to survive.  I asked Dresdan to push down harder.  He did, and it hurt.  I asked him to push down less hard.  I put my hand up and held it myself and asked Dresdan to support on top of my hand.  I felt him start checking my neck and spine with his other hand.  I put my right, gloved hand out the window and started flexing my fingers.  I was tapping my legs repeatedly.  I was acutely aware of the importance of staying awake.

    I was staring through the windshield and thought I saw a crack.  I stared harder and realized there was no crack, my vision was getting blurry.  I was so tired.  I told Jon and Dresdan that my vision was getting blurry and I was very tired.  I told Dresdan to talk to me.  He said something to me, and I can’t remember what it was.  It wasn’t a conversation starter.  I put my hand on Jon’s leg and squeezed.  He put his hand on mine and held it.  I asked Dresdan about the book I’d given him to read.  He told me it was good and that I’d really like the one he gave me for Christmas.  I talked about the book he had just read briefly, then got quiet.  I was awake enough.

    I asked Dresdan to give me a blessing.  It was too loud.  He would have to yell it.  The talking I’d already done had made my head throb.  I asked him to quietly give me a priesthood blessing. 

    I’ve always wondered how I would react at the prospect of death. It’s easy to say you don’t fear dying but what about when you actually might die?

    I’ve always hoped there would be no fear, just faith.

    On a destroyed ATV, soaked in my own blood, I learned the answer.  I wasn’t afraid to die.  While I wasn’t afraid to die something kept coming to my mind on repeat.  My daughter is 6 weeks old.  I want to see her again.  Beth was driving, she can’t live with this guilt.  I love my daughter more than anything in the world, I need to see her again.  I love Beth so much and can’t have her live with this pain.  I want to see my daughter again.  I love my wife. 

    Beth’s cries in that moment of blackness were in my mind.  I could hear her grief.  Could she live with this?  I might die.  Probably not.  I was conscious.  I was awake.  Dresdan was keeping pressure on the wound.  I would be fine.

    But what if I wasn’t?

    In that moment I confirmed what I’d always known.  The two most important things in this world are God and family.  In that moment I prayed relentlessly.  I believe the blessing and my prayers kept me awake.  What else mattered in that moment but God and my family?

    Nothing.

    I wanted to see my mom again, I wanted to see my dad again, I wanted to see my brothers and sisters.  More than anything I wanted to see Ivy again.  It hit me, maybe I wouldn’t.  I realized, just in case, I should say something that needed to be said.  I told Jon he had to tell Beth that I was ok, and it wasn’t her fault.  It was an accident. 

    We came to a crossroads in the trail.  I remembered where we had come from and told Jon.  Adie and Jared drove up in the two-seater and told Jon to follow them to the main road.

    We got out to a main street and started driving.  We came to an intersection and there was the ambulance.  We pulled into a dirt lot.  I was surrounded by people I didn’t know.  I was asked a lot of questions.  They cut my clothes off of me and told me not to move my neck if I could help it.  I was able to get my seatbelt off.  They asked if I could get to the stretcher.  I said I could with some help.  I took the couple steps to the stretcher and they buckled me in.  As I was taken to the ambulance, I saw Beth.  Her eye was extremely swollen.  She said she was ok.  I was put into the ambulance.

    This is where our story started.  The EMT told me I might die.

    Oh.

    Ok.

    It was real then.

    Still no fear.  Maybe that’s natural.  Maybe the panic and shock takes precedence.  I don’t know, I’ve only almost died this one time.  The main EMT was a young blond guy. I asked him,  “Are you a member of the church, you know, we’re in Utah right?”

    He told me he wasn’t, he was raised in the church but had distanced himself from it.  We had a conversation about the comfort I felt having that hope.  He told me that hope was a powerful thing.  He told me that hope told me that even if I died today, I would see my daughter again.  He told me the other EMT in the ambulance was a member of the church.

    I was told we had to wait for a helicopter.  The drive was too long.  I might die on the way.  We had to wait.  I was tapping my toes repeatedly.  I was doing it to stay awake.  I asked the EMT, Aidan, if it was ok.  He said it was a panic response, my anxiety was high.  He said it was natural, but if I could take some deep breaths and calm my body, that would help.

    I haven’t been meditating all this time for nothing.

    I took a few deep breaths and felt my body relax.  He said my vitals (I don’t know, blood pressure?) improved and I was looking good.

    They asked if I wanted my clothes that they’d cut off thrown out.  I told them my garment top was there and it needed to be disposed of properly.  Every person I saw from then on got the message that my garment top was present, and it was important it went with me.

    The helicopter arrived and I was airlifted to the hospital.  I asked the man sitting with me in the helicopter if he was a member of the church.  He said he was just Christian.  I told him we were part of the same family.  He said he loves to discuss the differences.  Oh, if I could have gotten his phone number.

    In the ambulance they gave me pain medicine.  What a difference that made.  I was also told it was ok to sleep.  I don’t know if I slept, I’m sure I at least dozed off.

    At one point the man nudged me and told me we were going over Zion.  I turned my head best I could and looked out.  My first helicopter ride could have been better.  Wasn’t the worst, though.

    I arrived at the hospital and was wheeled in.

    I can’t emphasize enough how kind every person was to me.

    From Aidan, the first person I saw at the ambulance, to the helicopter, to the hospital.  Every person treated me with love.

    The next bit is a blur, so much happened.

    I was given more pain medicine, my skull was numbed, they tried as best they could to clean out the wound in my head and arm, I did x-rays and a CT scan.

    At one point a nurse told me something I did not want to hear.  She tried to see if I wanted to hear it and I misunderstood and got much more information than I wanted.  She could see my skull.  Cool.

    Eventually they determined I didn’t need surgery.  Everything was good.  They could staple me up.

    The doctor counted 51 staples in my head, I counted 52.  He said it wasn’t often they had to use a whole stapler.  I was released the same day.

    Sounds like it wasn’t that bad, right?  You should see me now.  My head has been leaking for three straight days and my shoulder is pretty morbid.  I’ll put some pictures at the bottom for the sickos in the audience. 

    It all ended up being fine.  I lived.  I’m fine.

    I should have died. If a couple things didn’t happen I wouldn’t have survived. 

    The parts that you (and I) missed.  Apparently when the ATV flipped, my brother who was sitting back and to the left of me saw my body.  He thought I was literally drowning in a pool of my blood.

    The other two ATVs had stopped.  They said something about knowing that was a slippery turn and wanting to wait.  If the other two ATVs had gone on, I’m almost sure I would have died.  Them stopping was the difference between me bleeding out in a tipped over ATV and living.

    I firmly believe that I am protected by angels.  Not just that day, but every day.  I tell Beth often that God won’t take me a minute sooner than is my time.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that angels resided with me that day.  I know the others were prompted by the spirit to stay.  They were feet away when we flipped.

    It is difficult to get a group of 8 people to do anything in a quick and organized fashion.  Set aside the panic and fear that might have set in.  I’ve never been more proud of my family than when I heard the steps they took to save my life. 

    My brother-in-law Jared heard me yelling and thought I was crushed.  Every male in the group, my dad, Jon, Garrick, Dresdan, Jared and Easton immediately grabbed the ATV and flipped it over.  Jon got in to drive.  Dresdan got in behind me to keep pressure on my head.  I learned later that Easton was in my ATV also. 

    Adie and Jared jumped in the two person ATV and drove off to get cell reception to call an ambulance.

    The others got in the other ATV.  Initially they were going to drive ahead also.  Someone realized, since the other ATV had flipped, it might have an issue driving.  They drove behind us the whole way in case the ATV I was still seat-belted into broke down.

    Can you believe that?  In minutes, every person in my family did exactly what was necessary.  Without a moment’s hesitation they saved me.

    The doctors at the hospital told me they couldn’t believe I still had my right arm.  They told me they’d seen a ton of these accidents and almost every time the person’s arm is destroyed or gone.  They said if I’d reached out my arm would be gone.  I think the airhead I was eating might have played a part in saving my arm.

    God and family.

    It’s weird to look back on nearly dying.

    I’m amazed at the peace I could feel in what should have been a terrifying moment.  I knew if I was meant to die, I would.  The only thing that mattered to me was that my wife knew I loved her and it absolutely, positively, was not her fault.

    Leaving Ivy would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  But I know that she would have been so loved.

    I know what’s important in this life.  I’m grateful for trials and scary moments to reaffirm what I know.

    God and family.

    To all those that have prayed for me, thank you.

    To the Hollerbach’s, thank you for sending us food the night we drove back from Utah.

    Beth has been off the charts amazing since the accident.  She is currently caring for a newborn and someone with a traumatic head injury.  She drove us back from Utah, 7 hours, the very next day.  I just wanted to get home.

    Ivy slept the entire way.  We had to wake her for the two stops to feed her.  She would get back in her car seat and zonk out.  God has blessed me with so much.

    I feel it necessary, because Ivy will read this one day, to say something to her.

    To my sweet girl when you were born my world stopped revolving around the sun.  When I thought I might die, you were my first thought.  I hope you never doubt how much I love you.  You and your mom are the most important things in the world to me.  Never doubt it.  Because I did come close the other day.  I know what’s important.  I love you, Ivy.  I love my family and I can’t say enough how grateful I am for them.

    God and family.

    The pictures below are kind of gross. View them at your own risk. I’ll keep the pictures I wish I never saw private.

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  • Ivy James Quackenbush 12/4/20

    Ivy James Quackenbush 12/4/20

    Ivy came today. I’m writing this in a bit of a haze. I keep getting told to get used to it.

    Beth started having contractions around 2AM this morning. Apparently I asked her if she was OK around 2:30AM. Don’t have a complete recollection of that.

    Around 5AM her water broke. We were at the hospital around 6AM. Beth got checked in and I believe was around 3.5cm.

    At 6:30AM I received a text from my father-in-law (shout out Keith Cannon), “Of course we’re praying for Beth and Ivy. But also for you. I hope you stay conscious. Good luck.”

    Between 6AM and 8:30AM things moved very quickly.

    At 7:57AM I texted my mom and told her Beth seemed to be in so much pain. They wanted her to finish some pitocin.

    I think it was 8:30AM when they came back in and kind of freaked out. Beth was in excruciating pain and at about 9cm. 10cm (I learned) is what is needed to start delivery.

    I started getting our stuff together while they quickly wheeled her to the delivery room. When I came out into the hallway they were gone. I started wandering and came upon a man in scrubs. I asked him if someone came this way and he asked who. I told him he would have known if they did. I walked down the other hall and came up to a nurse. She asked what I was looking for and I said, “the screaming.” She led me to the delivery room.

    I texted my mom from the delivery room at 9:07am, “Close.”

    They finally got the epidural in at that time which made things drastically better. Beth improved immediately.

    From 9:07AM to 9:23AM Beth went from writhing, screaming, and crying in pain to texting my mom. “Epidural has kicked in and I’m 10cm. I’ll probably deliver in an hour or so. They were shocked how fast I was moving.”

    I’ve heard over and over about this thing that happens when becoming a father. I can’t emphasize it enough. I can’t say it with adequate enthusiasm or exaggeration.

    When I first saw Ivy James Quackenbush my heart expanded, my world flipped upside down. In an instant I realized I would do anything, I would give my life without a second thought and at a moment’s notice for that beautiful soul. She was perfect, so beautiful.

    I wish I could put it into words, but they’re not enough. My life as I knew it was over. And I knew it. This little thing was the new center. The center of my universe- along with Beth.

    Watching what Beth went through, so much pain, to bring this life into the world. I instantly had something open up inside of me. Appreciation for my mother. ‘She went through this for me?!?!’ Love and awe at the strength of my wife and all women. How can a man walk out on a wife after seeing her bring the most important thing in the world, into the world? I thought of so many mothers – Eve, Mary, my mom, my wife. My Ivy.

    How can women be treated the way they are in the world when they are the entire world? They’re why we’re all here.

    I loved these two in a way I didn’t know was possible.

    I couldn’t stop staring at Ivy. The gravitational pull of the universe had changed.

    Beth held her and she screamed. Let the record show I cut the cord. She screamed and it was simultaneously the most fascinating and most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I didn’t know a scream could be so powerful.

    I put my finger out and Ivy grabbed. She stopped screaming. The nurses started to take her for measurements and she wouldn’t let go of my finger. My heart!

    I followed her. The thoughts I hadn’t let start because her coming had always been surreal started to flood my mind: I’m going to play basketball with her. I hope she loves basketball. We’ll play together. We’ll be best friends. I hope I never hurt her. I hope I can always protect her.

    How does Heavenly Father love me? I’m a little closer to understanding today. I’m a little closer to understanding what true love is.

    Ivy James Quackenbush and Elisabeth Brooke Quackenbush. My family.

    7lb 3oz 21in 10:59am. Perfect.
  • Don Leedy-Resting in Paradise

    Don Leedy-Resting in Paradise

    I remember the first time I met Don Leedy. 

    I met his son Matt in college and Matt quickly became a close friend.  Matt was getting a car for college and so the big guns were brought in:  Mr. Don Leedy.

    I looked forward to meeting him.  Matt had talked about him and it’s always interesting to see who played such a big role in developing the character of a friend.

    Don didn’t disappoint. 

    He was all gregarious, joyful energy from the start. He greeted me warmly.  The second we were all in the car together he was making jokes.  I don’t remember the jokes.  I remember the person.  So much light emanated from him.  He was contagious.  We were on our way to buy a car.  All I knew about car dealerships was that they were boring, and you’d have to haggle, and it would ultimately be a tiring nightmare of an experience.

    I don’t think Don saw it that way.  I think he saw it as an opportunity to hang out with some new individual for the afternoon.  That poor car salesman didn’t know what he had walking through his door when Don Leedy came strolling in. 

    Somehow, in a feat few can replicate, Don turned a day at a dealership into an adventure.  He was shaking hands, patting backs, joking with people he hadn’t known 5 minutes earlier.

    Me, I’d driven with Matt and Don to the dealership, so I was family at that point.  Don talked to me like we had inside jokes going back 10 years.

    That’s who Don was.  He was a spark of energy.  He was quick to laugh.  He was a joy to be around. 

    I had few interactions with Don, but all were memorable.

    He united people.  He brought people together.  He was an example of love and care that you had to admire.

    I feel lucky to have gotten to know Don Leedy.  When someone bright leaves, it feels like the world gets darker.  I like to think about it another way.  In heaven, where Don is now, I believe he truly does emanate light.  Real light.  He is glowing and providing love.  It’s like he’s back at the dealership with a whole new group of people that are lucky to be where he is now.  He’s patting backs, cracking jokes, and making everyone feel like they’ve been a friend for eternity. 

    When someone like Don leaves, it’s up to us to replace that light.  It’s a beautiful opportunity to look at a life well lived.  It’s an opportunity to take all the joy he possessed and let that joy be a part of you.  We have to make up the difference.  We have to be the light Don used to provide.  We can be better, because Don would want it that way.  He would want us all to laugh and cry and remember him fondly, not sadly.

    I know this is a hard viewpoint to take for Don’s family who is missing someone so special.  I know the tears will flow freely for the Leedy family.  Let them flow.  But limit the cloud that hangs over you, limit that sad feeling.  Remember that Don is watching.  Remember when the grief feels overwhelming that he’s still with you and he’ll provide that light straight to your heart so you can be a source for our world, as he is a source of light where he is now.

    Remember the good.  Remember the laughs.  Remember the silliness.  Remember the kindness.  Remember the joy, the friendliness, and the love.  Remember what Don wants more than anything for his beloved family now: peace and happiness.  He will see you again.  I know that.  Take comfort in that.

    When you get to reunite with someone like Don, that will be something you’ll never forget.  He will hug you.  He will laugh with you.  He may jump up and down with excitement at all he wants to tell you about what he’s been up to.  You will have your father, husband, friend back.  You’ll remember you missed him briefly, but now you have him for eternity.

    Look forward to that day.  In the meantime, let’s make Don proud.