My parents and younger brother Easton were in town for the weekend. We went swimming and came back to the condo before they left. I said my goodbyes and got in the shower with Ivy to rinse off, as we always do after the pool. My family was packing up to leave.
As usual, I cleaned Ivy up and then yelled for Beth to come and grab Ivy from me. Beth didn’t come so I yelled again. After a couple minutes Beth still hadn’t come so I opened the shower door to make sure the maximum amount of sound waves would travel and yelled again.
I don’t like yelling. It was something I worried about when I started coaching basketball. Yelling feels inherently mean and unkind to me. I try not to raise my voice for almost any reason.
After the third yell I started to feel like a jerk. I wasn’t being a jerk; I was simply trying to make sure Beth heard me. After the third yell she came quickly into the bathroom. I apologized for yelling and said I wasn’t sure if she could hear me. Beth told me she heard me, but my family was just leaving, and she was saying goodbye.
For a split second I thought how my family heard me yelling also and felt ashamed for a moment before I reminded myself my yelling wasn’t malicious in any way. This was practical yelling; it served a purpose. I had to remind myself this because of my aversion to yelling. It wasn’t mean, I was trying to make sure Beth heard me.
This led me to a thought. I hope my parents know they raised me so that they never have to worry about how I speak to or treat others, especially my wife and daughters. I hope my parents know there are certain ways I would never speak to my wife and daughters. I hope they know I would never speak to anyone a certain way. I think they know that.
I hope to raise Ivy so that when she’s a grown up (can’t believe that’s going to happen) I’ll know how she speaks to people. I’ll know there’s certain ways she would never speak to anyone. I’ll know if she’s yelling there’s a purpose for it.
Why do we speak to people a certain way? Because Christ taught us that we’re all brothers and sisters and He showed the way. I hope I would never disappoint my parents or my heavenly parents with my behavior towards others. Of course, we slip sometimes. We aren’t perfect. But the Gospel of Jesus Christ teaches me why I should treat others the way I want to be treated. I hope to instill that in Ivy and Sage the same way my parents instilled it in me, so that I never have to wonder where her values lie and how she treats those she interacts with.
My grandpa Stan recently turned 90 years old. For his birthday, all his children and grandchildren wrote him a letter. This is the letter I wrote to my grandpa.
Grandpa,
One of my earliest memories was my first and only trip to Grandaddy Lake. It was horrible. Keep in mind, I was maybe 4. It rained the whole time. It was so miserable. But I still remember it.
I remember hiking back after the long week there. It was raining. I’m not sure it ever stopped raining. I was walking through mud, and I was crying. Everyone else was hiking with big backpacks for the trip. I had my little toy backpack on, and I was crying about it, about the hike, about the rain, about the mud, about my miserable existence.
You got frustrated with me. It was the only time I recall seeing you frustrated/angry/mad. I cried more.
My dad took my little backpack. I still have a memory of my dad shirtless, hiking in the rain. He was hiking now with his huge backpack on his back and my little backpack on his shoulder.
I looked around at all my aunts, uncles, you, and my dad and realized no one else was complaining. Everyone was cold, wet, and frustrated, but no one was complaining.
This core memory has stuck with me. I like to think it impacted me and in some minor, or possibly major ways, has shaped me.
The Las Vegas Quackenbush clan (my family) has never been to Granddaddy Lake. We have our modern-day equivalent. We now go to the theme park Six Flags Magic Mountain multiple times a year. It is a requirement that any future in-law go through the gauntlet of a 12-hour day at Magic Mountain before they can even think about being accepted into the family.
When Beth came to Six Flags with us for the first time, we were all so happy because there was a high heat warning. The lines were great! Meanwhile, we almost died. My roommate came with us to Six Flags once. He’s sworn to never return.
I now have two daughters that I joke, tongue-in-cheek, about needing to remove as much Cannon from (Beth’s maiden name) and insert as much Quackenbush into as possible.
This is the Grandaddy Lake mindset. More importantly, this is what it is to be a Quackenbush. I take pride in my name.
I take pride in you.
I take pride in our pioneer roots.
I take pride in the foundation of faith I have been afforded.
I take pride in what you and Grandma built, for me.
I take pride in what you and Grandma built, for my family, for my daughters.
I want to thank you for choosing an eternal companion of from among the devoted young women of The Kingdom. That is a line from my patriarchal blessing. I was able to choose an eternal companion who is an amazing mother, wife, and person because of you. I am able to raise my daughters with a confidence in things eternal because of you and Grandma. I am able to see the bigger picture, endure, have faith, progress, learn, grow, and get better, all with an understanding of who I am and where I come from, because of you and Grandma.
I don’t know what I did to earn the position in the family I’ve been given, but I thank you.
I look forward to one day having a life review. I hope to see some or all of your life review and Grandma’s life review. I look forward to one day seeing all the sacrifices endured and trials met head on by Grandma and yourself so that I could have the mortal experience I have been afforded. You and Grandma are a foundation. You created a foundation. In this life I’ll never fully understand all you went through and struggled with so I could have what I have. One day, I hope to understand. On that day, I will stand, and I will kneel, and I will thank my progenitors, you, for what you did for me. We all will.
It’s time for one of my favorite posts to write – Ivy thoughts!
This is a good one.
One of the funnest things about being a parent is watching your child start to mimic you. It’s in those moments that I get a snapshot into how closely she is watching me. The other day Beth texted me and said, “I can tell when there’s a habit you do because Ivy does it. Like tapping your toothbrush on the edge of the sink. I said, ‘Does Daddy do that?’ And she said, ‘Yeah Daddy like tap tap tap.’”
Other examples are the words she copies. The other day she said to her grandpa, “Papa, come hang out.” Another time they were playing a game and she said, “You give it a try.” My favorite example showing Ivy paying attention and learning, she was standing at the kitchen counter while her grandpa cut vegetables. He set the knife down and she, unprompted, said, “Ivy no touch knives.” Ivy helps me put the dishes away. I’ll hand her cups, plastic bowls, plastic plates, forks, spoons and she’ll put them in the dishwasher. Early on I would start to hand her a knife and then pause and say, “Does Ivy touch knives.” Of course, in the beginning, she would say, “Yes,” and I would say, “No, no, Ivy doesn’t touch knives,” and she’d quickly say, “No, no, Ivy no touch knives.” So we’d continue and if I started to hand her a knife to test her she would quickly say, “No, no, Ivy no touch knives.” Glad to see the things I’m teaching her are travelling.
I had Ivy for an hour while I worked one day. She sat on the couch and watched Curious George by herself for 30 minutes. 30 minutes in she wanted to work with me. I tell her she can sit on my lap as long as she doesn’t touch anything. She proceeds to touch everything and say, “Can I touch this.” This I accept, having played this game before, as long as she doesn’t touch my keyboard. Then she starts throwing things. I gently set her aside and tell her it’s back to Curious George. This whole time she hasn’t said a word about the bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs on the right side of my desk. I’m amazed until… 2 minutes later she comes back. She walks up to my right arm which is on my chair’s arm rest. She gives my arm a huge hug and says, “Daddy, I’m so proud of you.” She gives it a good squeeze. I say, “Aw Ivy, thank you, I love you,” and give her a kiss. She promptly reaches over for the bag of chocolates and starts to walk away. I grab them just before she is out of reach. I tell her she can have one. I unwrap it and give it to her. As she walks out she says, “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” Is this what being wrapped around a finger feels like?
Ivy and I were cuddling in bed after a nap and totally out of nowhere Ivy looks up at me and says, “You have sharks on your water bottle, Dad?” I looked over at my water bottle and said, “No, my water bottle is just green.” Ivy said, “It OK Dada, one day when you’re bigger you’ll get sharks on your water bottle TOO.”
The other day Beth asked Ivy if she tooted and she said, very seriously, “No. There’s just a bobcat in my bum.” The same day, after I left for work, Ivy asked Beth, “Where Daddy going?” Beth responded that I went to work and Ivy said, “Again?!?!” You and me both sweet girl. She had a lot of personality that day.
This was one of those equally heartbreaking and also wonderful parenting moments. I took Ivy with me to an open gym for basketball a couple months back. I expected it to go well. It went as poorly as it could have. I had to leave early and it was the last time I took Ivy to open gym. In my frustration, after Ivy was upset and throwing a fit and crying, I told her I’d hoped I could take her with me to basketball more this season but that I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Like I said, I hadn’t taken her back with me since. Recently, I was at basketball. Ivy saw me leave with my bag and ball. “Where you goin Daddy?” “I have to go to basketball sweetie, I’ll see you when I get back.” She just looked at me with the most beautiful eyes and content face. But it wasn’t the normal – ‘see ya later’ face. While I was at practice Beth texted me, “Ivy’s been packing a bag and saying ‘I’m packing because I have to go to basketball soon. I know you will miss me when I’m at basketball. I come back though.’” I realized I need to give her another shot.
Apparently when I was gone for work an entire day Ivy kept saying, “Say what’s wrong Hero Boy.” So Beth replies and asks what’s wrong with Hero Boy. “I lost my daddy.” Heart. Broken.
We’ve had a few days of complete toddler turmoil. I love Ivy. She’s been a monster. She’s in the stage where if you ask her not to do something it’s instantly the next thing she does. Not kidding. We’ve been letting her play Battleship. You know, like the old school board game. She sits and puts the ships and pegs in and plays Battleship with herself. On occasion, the little pegs drop and I had to emphasize to her that it was important those didn’t drop because we didn’t want to lose pieces and Sage could choke on them. Ivy got out of her chair, walked across the room to where Sage was, and started to hand her one of the little pegs. It wasn’t like the temptation was even there. Sage wasn’t right next to her. She had to get out of her seat (a lot of work) and walk across the room to find Sage and willfully disobey what I just said. It was like she was possessed by some irrepressible urge to do exactly what I just told her not to do. These are the parenting moments that are teaching us patience, I guess.
On that note of Ivy being difficult and us trying to be patient – I was leaving for basketball the other day and it had been a particularly stressful day for Beth. I went to Ivy before I left and quietly talked to her. I asked her to be my best girl. To help her mom, to take care of her sister, and to be my best, sweetest girl. “Can you do that for me?” “Yes, Daddy.” Beth texted me while I was at basketball: “We finally had a quiet moment to sit down after a walk and crafts. I’m trying so hard and yet she’s being so difficult! Ivy has a cold drink and Sage is eating her dinner. Ivy looks up at me and says in a sweet little voice, ‘Mom, I am doing my best.’ I have no idea where she heard that or if she even knows what that means but it was so sweet and probably true so I told her, ‘I know, my sweet Ivy’ and felt a little calmer. The student becomes the teacher yet again.” Ivy knows what that means. And she’s amazing. And she’s teaching us so much, while we try to teach her just enough to survive and not choke her sister.
“Now, you’re going to get a lot of attention. A LOT. You will be the center of their world for years. This will give you a huge advantage in life. That early love will carry you for your entire mortal experience.”
My upcoming birth and place in life were being discussed.
“But, there is a downside. Your parents are young, inexperienced. They can barely take care of themselves. Now they’ll have to take care of you. They will make mistakes. Every mistake they make will be made up for by the outpouring of love you receive, but there will still be mistakes. You will have to grow up as they learn to take care of a child.
“Also, being the first-born will be a huge responsibility. If things go according to plan, and they always do, you will be the first of many children. Your younger siblings will be as much your responsibility in life as your parents. You will have to answer to how you treated them, how you watched over them, how you protected them, how you supported them. It will start at a young age, but it will be for your entire mortal life. You will have to watch over them.”
I loved each of them so much already. Of course, I would do that.
“Being the oldest will provide many unique opportunities. Sometimes you will be a bully. This will be to teach you something later in life and to teach your siblings. Over time your relationship with them will grow and develop. You all will mature mortally and spiritually.
“It won’t be easy. But being the first-born child will set you up to achieve your highest potential. It’s what He has in store for you. It will help you become who you can become.”
This is how I imagine the conversation in heaven was before I came here. It would continue,
“You will have a bumpy path. You’ve always had to learn things through trial and error. You will taste much of the bitter to realize how sweet obedience is.
“Eventually we believe you will come back. Of course, that will be up to you. But Father doesn’t misread these things. When you come back you will find a companion from the devoted women of the kingdom. You know her already.
“When the time is right, we will send you His choicest spirit. She will enter in much the same position you entered this world. Your wife and you will have much to learn, and she will teach you. You will be sent a strong, powerful, spiritual, kind, gentle, intelligent spirit to be a cornerstone of your family. She will be followed by another choice spirit, one who even now can’t wait for her experience to start. She will bring a spark and a light to your family. Your family will be stronger for the two pillars sent to expand it. You will be greatly blessed by your daughters.”
Doesn’t this bring so much meaning to life? The truth of premortal existence speaks to my soul. I know it to be a fact. It is too sweet for my spirit to deny. I know its truth. I knew where I was coming, I knew who I was joining, I knew my wife and daughters before I came here. I was guided and trained for my time here on earth. I was sent for a purpose. I believe I’m still learning that purpose. Every mortal experience I’ve had has led me to the purposes I’m finding in life.
“Your purpose will be to come to Him. Because you will taste so much bitter, you will be able to help others find Him. This will be your purpose.”
I’m grateful for this truth of premortality. I know it’s true. I feel it. I know there’s a reason I’m here. I’m grateful for that.
We were in Flagstaff after New Years. We drove up the morning of 1/2/23 in a brand new year. We met my family, who drove from Las Vegas, for lunch. My family included Mom, Dad, Dresdan, Kodi Joe, and Easton. After lunch, we found some little hills at a park to go sledding. Ivy loved sledding. It’s possible she loved it a little too much. The moment the sled stopped at the bottom of the hill, and sometimes before the sled even stopped, she would be saying, “again, again, again.” If I paused a moment to catch my breath she’d get upset.
After sledding, we went back to our hotels to get cleaned up. My family came to our hotel and we played games.
The next day we went sledding again. It was interesting how quickly Ivy turned on sledding. She was excited to get out there, and after we went down one hill I received the normal, “again, again, again.” After the second time down the hill, she was done.
“Do you want to go again?” I asked.
“No.”
Just like that, Ivy was done sledding. We did a little more sledding, which she tolerated. Then Ivy saw the park and swings that were nearby. All she wanted to do was swing after that. Ivy loves swings.
We all had lunch after sledding and parted ways. The drive to Las Vegas is nearly four hours and it was pretty stormy. It had been snowing for some time and the temperature was around 25 degrees.
Beth and I sat in the parking lot trying to decide what to do. We were in Flagstaff primarily for a St. Mary’s basketball game. We still had some time before we needed to be at the gym. The plan had been for us to drive home after the basketball game. Beth was worried about driving home after it had been raining and snowing with the roads being icy. My lack of concern came not from bravery but from a complete ignorance of snow.
Beth had strong feelings against driving home at night on unsafe roads which trumped my blissful ignorance. We audibled to finding a hotel room for the night and then went to the gym.
The team was late due to bus troubles but ultimately arrived safely and we were able to have a basketball game. All I’ll say about this game was Flagstaff High School, on top of having a very good team, also had a significant home-court advantage. You try getting a bus of Phoenix high school girls that never see snow to focus on a basketball game after driving up in a snowstorm. After the game, the Flagstaff High School team looked confused as our team ran outside to roll around in the snow. We overheard, “they must not see snow much” as we walked to our car.
We checked into a new hotel that night. Hotels with Ivy are fun. She gets so excited. She likes to walk around the room and be present with the whole family. Ivy and I share a bed while Beth and Sage get the other.
Sleeping in the same bed as Ivy is an extreme adventure. I never know when I’m going to get kicked or slapped. Every time I wake up and look at Ivy she’s in a completely different position.
At some point in the middle of the night, I awoke to a thump sound on the opposite side of the bed. You know how when you’re awoken by a noise, it usually takes your brain a minute or two to understand what it just heard? That didn’t happen with this sound. I knew exactly what happened the moment my brain woke up to it. I can’t remember how I got to the other side of the bed. I don’t know if I jumped to all fours on the bed like Spiderman and leaped to the other side, or if I jumped off the bed and ran around. It was most likely the latter. However I got there, I arrived before the tears even started.
I found Ivy’s shape on the floor with my hands as it was pitch dark and I couldn’t see anything. I scooped her into my arms as she started to cry. I held her head to my should and told her it would be ok. As I rocked her I told Ivy that we were going to get back in bed but I would hold her and she would be safe. She stopped crying immediately and said, “yes.” We got back into the bed and I slept the rest of the night with Ivy in my arms.
As I thought back on this, I was struck by something. I was struck by how quickly Ivy stopped crying. The moment I told her I was going to hold her and she was going to be safe, her simple reply “yes” and she was completely at peace. I was so glad I could be there for her and make her know she was safe.
I think in this life we can often feel like God isn’t there to hug us and make us feel safe as quickly as we’d like. I think we forget that in God’s time, His reaction is instant. It just feels longer for us. I believe God is always there ready and willing to wrap us in a protective hug, whether we realize it or not.
Another thing I was struck by was how quickly I reacted. If there was ever any doubt in my mind about whether I would jump in front of a moving vehicle to save my daughters, that doubt is gone. I would throw myself in front of danger for my girls without hesitation. I know that.
Back to that Flagstaff High School basketball game, I wasn’t skimming over the details of that game only because I wanted to move creatively through the story. I didn’t want to talk too much about how badly we got our butts kicked.
We’ve had mostly close games this season and a couple bad blowouts to two of the best teams in Arizona. Thinking back on that game, I realized how proud of the team I was. The first half was the lowest low. Our team gave up and practically stopped playing. Their heads were down and they were resigned to a bad loss. We had a serious talk with them at halftime about doing their best no matter what the score was. I pulled some girls aside that were leaders on the team and told them I was disappointed in their reaction to losing. I told them I knew they were disappointed, frustrated, upset, and embarrassed; so was I. But they had to be leaders, stay positive, and encourage their teammates.
The second half we were like a different team. We still weren’t the better team, but we were a better team. I got slightly emotional thinking about how big a turnaround those girls showed in the second half. Instead of continuing to pout and give up, they encouraged each other and really tried to be better.
I don’t get emotional like that thinking about the average game. It’s the intensely adverse games that I think back on and get very proud of our teams.
I would never wish for Ivy to fall off the bed. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of glad it happened. It was a chance for me to see how quickly I would react to the pain of my daughter. It gave Ivy a chance to see I am there for her and I will protect her. Will I always be able to react that quickly? No. But Ivy is starting to learn I am always there.
I think this life is about learning God is also always there.
Would I ever wish my basketball team to get beaten by an obscene amount of points? Of course not… except, well, it gives them the greatest opportunity to grow. Getting blown out is a real opportunity to see what kind of person each girl is. I truly believe getting blown out in a basketball game is teaching those girls a valuable lesson about getting your teeth kicked in in real life and how you react to it.
Moth’s come to a flame because it is warm and comforting. While the flame is warm and comforting, eventually warmth and comfort make you stagnant, and before you realize it, you’re stuck or worse, burnt. It’s the adversity and challenges in life that shape us and keep us on our toes.
Adversity can give us amazing opportunities to see what kind of person we are. It’s easy to be kind, encouraging, and happy when life is all good and nothing difficult is happening. It’s a little more challenging when life is throwing all the roadblocks your way.
I know (Doctrine and Covenants 121) that this is how God feels about adversity. He doesn’t love that we have to go through it, but He knows we have to go through it.
Adversity is our greatest opportunity to see what we’re really made of. As I get older and more “mature” I can say with more and more honesty that I am grateful for adversity as it gives me the best opportunity to find out what kind of person I really am.
No Coincidences 