No Coincidences

Tag: love

  • Wren Sonora Quackenbush 1/20/2025

    Wren Sonora Quackenbush 1/20/2025

    It’s interesting considering what you can glean about a soul in the signs they give before their arrival.

    On Monday 1/20/25, someone asked me if I wanted to play basketball that night, I said I probably shouldn’t because Beth wouldn’t appreciate that. He asked when the baby was coming. I said, “Any day now. She’s being stubborn.”

    Maybe because Ivy and Sage both came a week early, maybe because Beth was extremely done with this pregnancy, maybe a combination of factors, but for 14 days leading up to Monday 1/20 we were thinking it would be any day.

    That led to a lot of anticipation. WHY AREN’T WE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL?

    Friday 1/17 Beth and I spent the night on the couch as she was having irregular contractions most of the night. We were ready at any moment to pack up and leave.

    Flash forward to 1/20 and I was at basketball practice when Beth called. She thought it was really happening this time. I told the team and was off, not super optimistic that it was actually happening. Once I arrived at the house, I knew it was happening.

    We quickly gathered our bags and were out the door. Ivy and Sage waved with Grandma and Aunt Jane from the front door. I’ll probably always remember that image. My two girls, my world, not fully realizing how their worlds were about to change – in challenging but amazing ways.

    I’m writing this from the hospital and I’m so excited for them to meet their new sister.

    What Wren lacked in initiative pushing us to the hospital she made up for once we arrived. We got to the hospital around 5:00pm and she was born at 6:05pm.

    Ivy and Sage’s births were fast and felt whirlwind-like. This had a whirlwind feel given the pace, but it really didn’t feel frantic at all. It felt very under control. Of course, who am I to say? Beth would probably say it was a complete whirlwind of chaos.

    When Beth and I were planning to get married our Bishop at the time had a sit down with us. I remember him commenting on how Beth came from a family of five children and I came from a family of six. He made a statement that I’ve remembered ever since. It was something like, “You two will have no problem having children.”

    I’m not sure how he meant it at the time, but with how Ivy, Sage, and now Wren have come, I can’t help but feel like it was a Bishop’s blessing. That’s how I’ve taken it ever since.

    Wren’s coming could not have gone any more smoothly.

    It felt like a blessed and sanctified process.

    It felt guided and protected.

    Again, Beth might not agree, I’m ultimately just a bystander to the process. I think she would agree though. Maybe we should ask her.

    This isn’t to say that difficult pregnancies or deliveries are any less special. On the contrary, challenges sometimes make the blessings more powerful. We all have our own experiences with this miracle. And that’s what each and every birth is: A miracle.

    I am grateful for a strong and capable wife that can do this unimaginable thing. We are blessed that this process has gone well for us three times. I do not take this for granted.

    So Wren arrived with a lot more hair at 6:05pm.

    I’ve described this process before. See Ivy and Sage’s welcome to life posts. I’ll try to put it into words for a third time.

    My heart didn’t split, it expanded. As I looked at Wren, Ivy and Sage flashed before my eyes. I thought about how I loved each of them so powerfully. I can’t remember if I was brought to tears immediately with the other two. Maybe I should go back and read their posts. I wanted to write this before reading Ivy or Sage’s so this could be completely original.

    But as I looked at Wren I had to hold back tears. Not sure why the third hit me so hard. Maybe it was the pace of things. Maybe three is a special number, and when your heart expands that third time, something special happens.

    I don’t know.

    All I know is I love her so much.

    It’s crazy, you know. I can’t believe I’m here, on earth. I can’t believe I’ve been given the power and ability to create life. The greatest gift of all existence, the power to create life, and it’s been entrusted to me. I can’t believe I have three daughters. I can’t believe I have a wife that is so special and such a great mother. I can’t believe I’ll get to be with them forever, for the rest of this life, and beyond. I can’t believe Wren was born into a covenant, ensuring that as long as I do my part she will be mine forever. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I often think about what I did to deserve all this. And I can’t for the life of me figure it out.

    But I’m anxious to say thank you one day.

    So, welcome to this life Wren. It’s hard but rewarding. It’s scary, but if you know why you’re here, there is peace. It is overwhelming, but you’ve been given a family to help with that.

    I love you baby girl and look so forward to seeing how your personality shapes and develops to add to our family. Thank you for coming to join us. We love you so.

  • Morning Commute, Family, Purpose, and Eternity

    Morning Commute, Family, Purpose, and Eternity

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

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

    The thought was this:

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

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

    A world of billions and how many know their purpose?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    This is eternity.

  • What is Love? And Fatty Steak Pieces

    What is Love? And Fatty Steak Pieces

    Short post.

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

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

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

    She replied that she had.

    That is love.

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

  • Ivy Goes Ministering

    Ivy Goes Ministering

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

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

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

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

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

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

    The younger one ran off yelling, “Dad!”

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

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

    Why did we visit them?

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

    That home was their church?

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

    When will they come to our church?

    • Hopefully tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I’ve thought a lot about this.

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

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

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

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

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

  • Yelling Coaches

    Yelling Coaches

    I grew up with a lot of yelling coaches. There’s one in particular I still have nightmares about. He was a coach who communicated in only one way: yelling as loudly as possible. I always had the feeling he hated me. As an adult, looking back, I haven’t gained a new perspective on this. It hasn’t become one of those, “He yelled at me to make me stronger, and he really did care about me.” No. I still think he hated me.

    I didn’t respond well to yelling.

    One of my concerns when I started coaching basketball 5 seasons ago was how I would handle yelling. As I mentioned in How do we speak to others, I have an inherent aversion to yelling. I didn’t want to yell period, let alone at my girls. I was worried how the girls I coached would respond to me if I wasn’t willing to yell at them. Would they respect me? Could I discipline them?

    What I’ve found, and I’m grateful to report, is that in my experience you don’t need to yell at anyone to get them to respect you. A quiet, private chastisement or loving criticism is 1000 times more effective than yelling or publicly embarrassing a player.

    There was one game I’ll never forget. We were beating the team badly in the second half, but it hadn’t always been that way. It was a close game through the first half. But as the second half got going, their coach started to get flustered. The coach was yelling at the refs and their players constantly. It was a classic case of a coach losing their cool as the game stayed close. This was obvious from my seat. As the coach yelled at the refs more, their players lost focus and started complaining about the officiating as well. Then the coach started turning their frustration on the players, yelling at them after turnovers or mistakes. I saw their team quickly devolve. Players were throwing their hands up in frustration. After every play, they were looking to their coach to make sure they weren’t about to be yelled at. It reminded me so much of my time playing for my yelling coach.

    That was the reason our lead extended in the second half until we were blowing them out. I always wonder how a coach can expect their players to stay calm and composed if the coach themselves is unable to do so.

    At one point in that game, when the opposing coach was yelling at one of their players, a player on my team who was sitting next to me on the bench looked up at me and said, “Thank you.”  I replied, “What?” and she said, “Thank you for not being like that coach and yelling at us.” That was about the best coaching compliment I’ve ever received.

    I explained to that player my coaching philosophy. Yelling doesn’t help. All yelling does is put everyone on edge.

    That same player, at the end of the season, gave me a card with a note that read, “Thank you so much for this season. I loved playing with you as a coach, thank you so much for being the coach. I hope you have a great time with your wife and Ivy” (this was before Sage).

    If you’re wondering why and how coaching is rewarding, there it is.

    So, do I yell? The season from this example (3 seasons ago now), I actually had to apologize to my team on a couple occasions. There were a couple games where I wasn’t proud of how I acted on the bench. I lost my cool, exhibited frustration on the bench, and sometimes yelled. One time I snapped at a player in the heat of a game. I felt really bad about that. I pulled that player aside afterward and apologized. At practice after a game where I got frustrated and started yelling, I explained to the team my philosophy: how can you stay composed if I don’t? I told them I was disappointed in my behavior and planned to be better.

    I hope that taught those kids something about accountability. If I don’t hold myself accountable, how should I expect to hold them accountable? I doubt they’d ever had a coach admit to being wrong. I wonder, how can we expect these athletes to respect someone who doesn’t admit when they’re wrong?

    One more story from this last season, our first at Notre Dame Prep. We had a really good team this year. We were 15-0 with two games to go. I knew this second to last game would be our toughest test. At halftime, my worries were justified as we were down two points. Throughout the first half I had to constantly reign myself in to keep myself from losing it on my players. They weren’t playing like themselves and I was disappointed. It was only after that I realized they were doing their best, but the lure of that undefeated season had really gotten into their heads. As I was walking from our bench to our locker room, I was prepared go crazy on my team under the guise of lighting a fire under them. If you’ve played serious sports, all these coaching tropes probably sound familiar.

    As I walked from our bench, I received wise words from Cameron. He said, “Before you go in there, remember that these girls have never been down at halftime.” He clearly saw in my face what was about to happen in that locker room. I’m glad he did. He saved me from what would have been a mistake. He was right. These girls didn’t need to get more flustered by not only being down at halftime but then getting yelled at in the locker room. How could I expect them to be composed if I wasn’t? Instead, I put a smile on my face, walked in, and told the girls how awesome it was to be in a close game for once. I then got into the things we needed to do better.

    Now, our team had some stern halftimes throughout the season. As a coach, you’re perpetually trying to lift your team higher, no matter how much you’re winning by. But, what would I have taught those girls if, in the one game they were losing, I walked in and blew a gasket? I would have taught them the worst possible thing – that habits, and effort, and sportsmanship, and accountability were not as important as winning and losing. That is not a lesson I want to instill in any young person.

    As for yelling productively, another fear I had, that didn’t end up being a problem. I used to wonder if I could coach when I don’t like to raise my voice at all. I quickly learned, that in the intensity of a game, I can’t help but raise my voice – to the players on the court, so the ref can hear a question I have, in the huddle over a crowd. This is what I consider productive yelling. My fear of not being able to yell during a game is lost. If anything, I need to tone it down. Those games can get exciting and intense and sometimes I’m tempted to run to half-court in the middle of a play to call a timeout because the ref won’t look at me (that happened).

    Productive yelling is good. Yelling to try to demean a player or to get their respect is not. Especially when that yelling is insulting or embarrassing, which it often is. I didn’t respond well to yelling when I played and it’s my experience that a lot of kids don’t.

    Winning is fun, but it’s not our primary goal as a coaching staff. These girls will all go on to have jobs, be professionals, get married, have kids, and do all the things that make this life rewarding and challenging. Our primary goal as a coaching staff is to prepare our student-athletes to be prepared for life. Basketball will pass. But learning to keep your cool under pressure, have confidence, do your best, and treat and speak to people with respect will better them for life.