No Coincidences

Tag: angel

  • You are Loved, You are Worthy

    You are Loved, You are Worthy

    “When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.”

    Think about that statement for a moment. 

    I heard this quote in a recent meditation I did.  The meditation guided this visual exercise:  Picture yourself as a child, truly picture it.  Picture yourself as a baby.  Picture yourself on someone’s lap.  Picture yourself being held, comforted, and played with.  Picture yourself laughing joyfully as someone makes a funny face at you.  Picture yourself young and innocent. 

    You don’t have to earn worthiness; you don’t have to earn love.  You are loved because you are.

    The next time you don’t feel worthy, picture yourself as a child.  You are worthy.

    This exercise led me to an even more powerful thought.  One that speaks not only to our worthiness here, but to our birthright and our eternal potential. 

    Consider Adam for a moment, the first man. When he came to this earth, we are told he was as a child. Adam came to earth meek and humble, a child-like individual. He had forgotten who he was. Who he was in reality was Michael the archangel, the chief angel. Adam was Michael, the angel second in authority. His authority was only exceeded by Jesus Christ Himself (and God, of course). In Hebrew the name Michael means “Who is like God.” This Michael came to earth with his mind wiped clean, with no recollection of his prior authority, no memory of his prior self.

    What about us?  What don’t we remember about ourselves?

    The next time you are insecure, unsure, or afraid, remember that you are a child of divine inheritance.  You are a prince or princess of the most High God.  Consider that for a moment.

    Not only are you loved and worthy of love, you are loved by the God of the universe.  You are in line to inherit all He has to offer (D&C 84:38).  Remember that, and don’t forget it.  Hold to it.

    We are as children here.  We don’t remember our past.  For all we know, we were spiritual giants.  We are spiritual giants.  We can be spiritual giants.  Embrace that identity.  Remember who you might be.  Remember who it is you have been tutored by.  The God of Heaven and Earth.  When we embrace this way of thinking and embrace this possibility, the difficult things of this earth become so inconsequential.  Our true potential is greatness.  May we never forget it.

  • 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.

  • Laura

    Laura

    Tomorrow is the three-year anniversary of my Aunt Laura passing away.  Laura was an inspiration to everyone she met.  She had a profound impact on my life.

    I want to share a little about her and why she was so special.

    Laura was diagnosed with cancer when I was younger.  As long as I can remember, Laura had cancer.  When I first found out, it was scary, but I was young and didn’t understand.  When Laura was still there year after year I really didn’t understand.  What was so scary?  She clearly wasn’t going anywhere, she was as healthy as ever.  I’m pretty sure within a year of her first being diagnosed my next memory of Laura was her, my mom, and another aunt going on a sling shot carnival ride.  I remember thinking, “clearly she’s ok.”

    It wasn’t until I was older that I learned and better understood what Laura went through for many years.  She was diagnosed with cancer at a young age, I believe she was 28.  She wasn’t expected to live too long.  It’s amazing to think that I’m 30 now.  Two years older than she was when she was told she wouldn’t have much longer to live.  I feel invincible every day.  Death is not something that crosses my mind (see Facing Death for the exception to the rule).  The thought of truly coming to terms with my mortality tomorrow is daunting.

    Cancer made Laura live life with a fervor that was powerful to witness.  She lived every moment to its fullest.  She went to school to get (more) degrees, she travelled, she wrote, she served.  She spent every moment in the most worthwhile way.

    When I would visit her, I would want to relax, watch movies, read.  She was a big fan of reading, but relaxing, watching movies?  Not going to happen.  I’ll share a story I told at her funeral. 

    It was 2011 and I was visiting Utah.  I was staying with Laura and my Uncle Jon for a few days.  See You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy and Jonah and the Whale posts for more details on this all-important trip in my life.  Laura used a pass she had for me to do a free skiing class.  I had never been on snow with a board or skis in any capacity.  After the class we were able to go up the mountain.  Remember, this is my first time ever on skis.  We’re going up and I’m seeing signs about diamonds and circles and squares.  I don’t know what it all means.  Laura explains Black Diamonds are the hardest.  We’re heading towards a Black Diamond.  I don’t even know how to get off a ski lift.

    Garrick and Laura skiing

    I voiced some concern about this, and she told me to quit worrying, I’d be fine.  So, my first time ever on a mountain and I’m doing Black Diamonds.  How could I possibly argue?  Here’s my aunt in her 40’s daring me to say something so she could call me all sorts of wimpy and scared.

    We started down the mountain and I was having a rough go.  I was up and down constantly.  I was spending more time on my back than on my skis.  I hadn’t mastered stopping yet so whenever I gained speed I would fall to keep from losing control.  Laura, meanwhile, was the epitome of consistency.  Left to right… left to right… slow and steady.  She’d get way ahead of me then stop and watch me clumsily fall down the mountain. 

    When we finished, I was exhilarated.  It was the most fun I’d ever had.  I loved the mountain.  We were driving home and I called my mom.  I excitedly told her about the day.  When I mentioned Laura and I went down the mountain together she yelled over the speaker, “Moofy you what?!?!”  Moofy was Laura’s nickname.  I learned that Laura had recently had pelvic surgery on her pelvic bone that had shattered.  I don’t think she was supposed to leave the house.  Her consistent nature down the mountain was partly to protect her frail bones from any potential impact from falling.  In fact, if she fell, she likely would have broken multiple bones.

    I learned something that day that I’ll never forget.  Laura was consistent, smooth, never wavering.  She was steadfast until the end.  She was always an example of strength and perseverance.  They were qualities I admired in her.  The other thing I learned was that Aunt Laura was never going to let anything slow her down.  She didn’t care if she was supposed to stay in bed, she wanted to ski with her nephew.  No wonder she had no sympathy for my worry about Black Diamonds.  I was young, healthy, the worst that was going to happen to me was a sore backside by the end.  She had the real possibility of a shattered bone with any fall.  What did I have to worry about?

    That is one of my fondest memories.  Laura taught me so much and I’m forever grateful for the example she was to me.  It brings me so much comfort to know she’s now moved on from my angel here on earth to my guardian angel in heaven.  I know she’s very busy up there because someone with her will, faith, and drive is being put to work by Heavenly Father.  But, in times when I’m in the most need, I will pray for Heavenly Father to spare her for a brief moment to be with and comfort me.  When I make this request, it warms my heart to know she’s quickly coming to my side.  I am excited to one day see her again and thank her for all she did for me here. 

    Love you, Aunt Laura.

    Rest in peace doesn’t work for you so instead I’ll say, keep busy, and I’ll see you soon.

  • Ivy’s First 48 Hours

    Ivy’s First 48 Hours

    The first 48 hours, it turns out, is not just a homicide drama on television or the most important time after a homicide, it’s also an important time after the birth of a newborn.

    The first 24 hours in the hospital went amazing.  There’s no better word than amazing.  Ivy slept the whole time.  Beth would have to wake her to eat.  She would eat and immediately go back to sleep.  We were warned of the calm before the storm.

    Nurses would come in and do this test or that.  She cried once when I was holding her for like 5 seconds.  She didn’t cry at all during her first bath.  She looked like she was enjoying a spa day.

    When another nurse pricked her foot for blood I asked if babies usually cried during that.  She said, “well, I gave her sugar water.”  I don’t know what that means but maybe we should be keeping sugar water on hand.  What I do know is there was no crying while at the hospital after her initial couple hours coming into the world.

    We brought her home around 4:30pm 12/5/20.  Becky (mother-in-law) and Jane (new aunt) were at the condo.  Apparently Bengie was disturbed by how we left the previous morning.  He had been acting strange while we were away and licked us even crazier than usual when we got home.  He didn’t seem to notice the new addition.  Yet.

    Becky made dinner.  Jane held Ivy.  Keith (father-in law) came over after his shift at the hospital.  Everyone expressed joy at a newborn.

    The first night was interesting.  While I think she was still pretty well behaved, it’s crazy how small interruptions to sleep can be completely disorienting. 

    We went to sleep around midnight.  Mistake number one.  I’ve been told this by many people, but I think I’ll have to learn firsthand.  Really – take sleep whenever it’s available.  Ivy and I were watching ASU football until 11:30pm.  Beth fed her and put her down to sleep around that time.

    At 2:00am Ivy started crying.  I’ll do my best to replay the events of the night, but Beth and I had great difficulty piecing events together in the morning. 

    I believe Beth tried to feed her, but she wasn’t really eating.  Cluster-feeding?  I don’t know. 

    *Beth update when reading this – she did feed her before I woke up at 2:00am, we think?

    Things that happened, order unknown:

    Beth made a bottle. Beth passed a blood clot. She was upset and scared and talked to her mom. Determined it was ok unless other symptoms/things happened. Beth was upset and having a hard time. I swapped spots with her and laid by Ivy’s bed, which for the first couple months (I think?) will be lying next to our bed. I fed Ivy half of the bottle Beth prepared.

    Ivy was somewhat fussy and always on the verge of crying.  Between 2am and 4am I realized she had a very messy diaper.  Explained the fussy.  I changed Ivy in the other room and laid her back down in her bed.  She was much better.  I’m not sure if Beth was completely sleeping during this time.  I think she was kind of in and out of it.  She was exhausted. 

    I laid with my hand on Ivy or helping to keep her pacifier in which seemed to settle her down.  I think I slept around 4am.  Again, not sure how things transpired, but at some point I woke up because Ivy was fussing.  Looked like she was hungry.  I talked to Beth around 5am (maybe?) about Ivy being hungry.  I think at some point Beth turned the hot air on in the room.  It had gotten cold in the room.  I could have sworn I passed Ivy to Beth around 5am to feed but in the morning neither of us could recall if that actually happened.  Funny, but being serious. 

    At some point I was really hot, and Ivy was fine.  She was sleeping like a, you guessed it, baby.  Really, she was sleeping well.  Interesting we use that phrase to indicate deep sleep when in reality sleeping like a baby is more like up every 90 minutes wanting some attention.  The living room was cooler, so I curled up on the couch and slept there.  Again, at some point (8am?) I woke up to the loud carbon monoxide alarm.  It beeped loud, 3 times.  I saw Beth coming from the kitchen.  I couldn’t fathom why she would make 3 loud beeps happen.  She seemed in a haze.  She ignored the loud beeping.  That confused me more.  I learned Bengie was sleeping on my legs.  His number one fear is loud beeps.  He jumped and ran to the bedroom, under the bed, tried to jump on the bed but Ivy’s bassinette was in the way.  He ran back and jumped on me.  He repeated this 3 times.  I held and pet him and he was shaking like crazy.  When I stopped petting, he ran to the bedroom, found his way onto the bed, and burrowed into the blankets.

    The new addition was proving to be a major interruption to his routine, peace, and quiet.

    **Beth addition number two – “you must have been in a haze too, when the beep went off, I yelled ‘oh –.’” (followed by a bad word).

    I am not denying any sort of hazy phase.  I was a cloud of confusion.

    I guess the morning had started.

    Ivy was peaceful as could be, as far as I could tell.  She’s been an angel ever since.  While writing this she was curled up on my legs/lap in front of me.  Already learning to multi-task. Her pacifier just fell out.  She likes her pacifier. 

    I still got to meditate that first day.  That was big.

    Becky came by and made some food.  I decided to fast in gratitude to Heavenly Father for all this.

    Beth proofread this and told me to insert “I was a Rockstar” talking about myself.  That’s a bit much.  Beth’s done all the hard work and is completely exhausted.  I’ve gotten to sleep next to Ivy and take care of the most important person in the world.  And she’s so cute.  And when I sleep, I get to put my hand on her and be with her. 

    Good deal.  I’ll take it.

    Ivy may be the “Coo Monster.”  She’s constantly coo-ing.  It’s heart-melting.  The cutest little hums and noises.  I love her very much.  It’s amazing how much I like caring for her.  It’s crazy how exhausted I can be already and yet how happy.

    Ivy went on a short walk in her stroller today.

    She loves her swing.

    She loves if I gently tickle her head or face with my fingers.  Her eyes will instantly flutter closed.

    Bengie and Ivy

    I love her.

  • Jonah and the Whale

    Jonah and the Whale

    Answer to prayer – but not what you expect!

    One of the most spiritual experiences I ever had, referenced in the post You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy, happened in the basement of my Aunt and Uncle’s home.  Go read the post to get some back story on why I was there, ie soul searching.

    During that trip, by some coincidence, my cousin had his farewell to go on his mission.  I went to the farewell and I felt stuff.  I felt an urge.  I felt guidance.  I came to Utah to search my soul and here it was. 

    That night I went back to the bedroom I’d been staying in.  With just Bengie (my aunt, uncle, and cousin’s dog) in the room I knelt, and I prayed.  I prayed like I hadn’t in so long.  I asked what I was supposed to do.

    Have you heard the story of Jonah and the whale?  For those who don’t know, the Bible tells us that Jonah, a prophet of God, was commanded to go to Nineveh to prophesy to its inhabitants.  He was to command them to repent and preach of their forthcoming destruction if they refused.  Nineveh was described as a scary place.  It was a near certainty Jonah would be murdered upon telling the inhabitants of their wickedness.

    I always heard that story and couldn’t imagine, couldn’t comprehend.  GOD told Jonah to do something.  If God tells you to do something – you do it!  It doesn’t matter how afraid you are or how scary it is.  You DO WHAT GOD COMMANDS.  Especially when it’s that clear.  If God told you to do something, you would listen, wouldn’t you?

    That’s what I always thought.

    That night in the basement I asked what I should do next with my life.  The answer couldn’t have been clearer if an angel appeared in the room and said it to my face.  I knew.  I needed to go on a mission.  I can’t stress this enough.  I knew what I was supposed to do.

    Then the doubts.  “I can’t go on a mission.  Where would I even begin?  I have so much to repent of.  I don’t even know who to go to” were my thoughts.  Also, I would have to give a GOING AWAY speech like I just watched my cousin give that very day.  Out of the question.  The thought of getting up in church and giving a talk was enough to make me feel sick.  I couldn’t do it.  I was too afraid.  On top of that I had big plans in the coming weeks.  It was my friend’s birthday and we had partying to do.  You know, the important stuff.  I couldn’t repent NOW.

    In the story of Jonah he gets on a ship to run away (From God- I know, crazy).  But here I was, running away from God.  I pretended like I didn’t know the answer to my prayer, but I knew.  I ran.  I ran away.

    I didn’t get swallowed by a whale.  Instead I moved on, distracted and forgetting.

    After Jonah’s whale incident, he finally agrees to do what God asked of him.  He was spit up on the shore of Nineveh and followed what God asked him to do.

    I think in a way, the few years after that moment in the basement, I was figuratively in a storm and swallowed by a whale.  Not for three days but for four years.  Eventually God had the whale spit me back up on shore. 

    You’d think I missed my chance, right?  I never went on a mission.  For a long time I thought I could never be forgiven for ignoring God.  Then I got my patriarchal blessing.  In it I am told to trouble myself not over lost days.  I can’t explain in words the comfort that simple phrase gave to me.

    Back to Jonah.  He ignored God.  Yet still, somehow, God used Jonah’s mistakes to bring about His work.  I don’t know how God makes up for our mistakes.  It recently occurred to me that in that basement I gave the first sincere prayer in a long time.  Then I ignored God.  I showed a modicum of faith followed by an excess of fear.  After that I found a job in Arizona, I settled down, and have been here in Arizona ever since.  Then I returned to church.  Now I’m here, writing to you, hopefully you’ve stuck with me this far.

    It’s so much better to do what God asks the first time.   I think we avoid a lot of heartache if we do.  But never forget – trouble yourself not over lost days.  God will have you spit up on shore when you’re ready.  When you’re really ready to trust in Him.  It took me some time.  Somehow, He accepted that.  Somehow, He waited.  I’m not saying I’ll ever fully make up for disobedience, not sure exactly how that works.  But I know that Christ will forgive me because He loves me.  There is no greater comfort than that.