On November 19, 1823, a young man named Alvin Smith died. The Smith family asked a Presbyterian minister to officiate at Alvin’s funeral. “As Alvin had not been a member of the minister’s congregation, the clergyman asserted in his sermon that Alvin could not be saved. William Smith…recalled: ‘[The minister]… intimated very strongly that [Alvin] had gone to hell, for Alvin was not a church member, but he was a good boy and my father did not like it.” (Teachings: Joseph Smith, 401, 403).
On January 21, 1836, while in the temple at Kirtland, Ohio, the heavens were opened up to a still young man named Joseph Smith. It was recorded:
1 The heavens were opened upon us, and I beheld the celestial kingdom of God, and the glory thereof, whether in the body or out I cannot tell.
5 I saw Father Adam and Abraham and my father and my mother; my brother Alvin, that has long since slept;
6 And marveled how it was that he had obtained an inheritance in that kingdom, seeing that he had departed this life before the Lord had set his hand to gather Israel the second time, and had not been baptized for the remission of sins.
7 Thus came the voice of the Lord unto me, saying: All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel, who would have received it if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God;
8 Also all that shall die henceforth without a knowledge of it, who would have received it with all their hearts, shall be heirs of that kingdom;
9 For I, the Lord, will judge all men according to their works, according to the desire of their hearts.
10 And I also beheld that all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven.
Matthew 7 of the Joseph Smith translation has an important clarification:
1 Now these are the words which Jesus taught his disciples that they should say unto the people.
2 Judge not unrighteously, that ye be not judged; but judge righteous judgment.
“President Dallin H. Oaks explained these teachings and their application, basing his comments on the principle “that there are two kinds of judging: final judgments, which we are forbidden to make, and intermediate judgments, which we are directed to make, but upon righteous principles:
“First, a righteous judgment must, by definition, be intermediate. It will refrain from declaring that a person has been assured of exaltation or from dismissing a person as being irrevocably bound for hellfire. It will refrain from declaring that a person has forfeited all opportunity for exaltation or even all opportunity for a useful role in the work of the Lord. The gospel is a gospel of hope, and none of us is authorized to deny the power of the Atonement to bring about a cleansing of individual sins, forgiveness, and a reformation of life on appropriate conditions.
“Second, a righteous judgment will be guided by the Spirit of the Lord, not by anger, revenge, jealousy, or SELF-INTEREST(my emphasis added). …
“Third, to be righteous, an intermediate judgment must be within our stewardship. We should not presume to exercise and act upon judgments that are outside our personal responsibilities. …
“Fourth, we should, if possible, refrain from judging until we have adequate knowledge of the facts. …
“A fifth principle of a righteous intermediate judgment is that whenever possible we will refrain from judging people and only judge situations. … We can set and act upon high standards for ourselves or our homes without condemning those who do otherwise. …
“Sixth, forgiveness is a companion principle to [this] commandment. … In modern revelation the Lord has declared, ‘I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men’ (D&C 64:10).
“Seventh, a final ingredient or principle of a righteous judgment is that it will apply righteous standards” (“‘Judge Not’ and Judging,” Ensign, Aug. 1999, 7, 9–12).”
I will refrain from judging that minister at Alvin’s funeral who failed in almost all these points laid out by President Oaks. I will leave that judgement to God for such behavior.
What I will say is this: the hateful, vengeful God that condemns young children and the ignorant to eternal hellfire, is not my God. My God doesn’t create someone, give them a body, send them to earth, only to condemn them to eternal damnation because they never committed to a God they never heard of.
Where is the justice, mercy, and LOVE of that God? There is no love in that God. That is not my God.
My God loves all His children.
1 Peter 4:6 “For for this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit.”
How can it be, then? How can men be judged in the flesh when their flesh has long since been laid in the ground and returned to the dust from which it was formed?
Salvation for the dead through ministering to the dead. Baptisms and ordinances for the dead. Ordinances that the dead cannot, once dead, perform for themselves. For we, without them, cannot be made perfect, as they, without us, cannot be made perfect (Hebrews 11:40, D&C 128:18).
Truth.
Pure.
Simple.
If this doesn’t make sense to you, please, re-read it. Then read it again, then read it again. New wine is difficult to fit in old bottles. Then ask me, and maybe I can explain in better. I know the missionaries can.
God doesn’t condemn you or your loved ones to hell because you haven’t met or been taught of the true Him. This is the great evil that Satan has perpetuated throughout Christianity.
THAT IS NOT GOD.
God is love. You, your father, your father’s father. He loves all of you. And you will all be able to hear the truth before any judgement is made. I love that God, and I am grateful for Him. And I am grateful for Joseph Smith for these pure, simple truths that he restored. And I am grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, who affords me all this: forgiveness, love, peace, eternity with my family. Because He suffered for me. Again, and again and again and again I say, thank you.
It was a normal day for fifth grade Brayden. My fifth-grade teacher was one of those memorable educators. Mr. Adams was equal parts kind and disciplinarian, stern and patient. To this day, still one of my favorite teachers.
I remember little else from that day.
What I do remember was this:
In class that day, first thing in the morning a square tv was brought in on a stand. Kids today likely can’t picture what I’m describing. Yes, the tv was square, and it was wheeled in on a stand.
“Yay!” The class shouted. What a treat! A movie this early in the day? The surprise and joy were nearly overwhelming for a class of 10- and 11-year-olds
Yet something was different. All classrooms from K-12 know the excitement of a tv being wheeled in. Even the teacher showed pleasure on these special days. A well-earned break. A day off on a technicality.
Something was different. As Mr. Adams wheeled in the television and plugged it in, there was no joy. He was oddly somber. Remember, disciplinarian, stern, never somber.
What was happening?
Mr. Adams turned to us. He was grave, and he was serious.
He told us that this was a day we would never forget. Interesting that’s the most vivid memory from that day: Mr. Adams telling me I would never forget this day.
20 years later I remember those moments.
He turned on the television to some news station and our 5th grade class watched the worst ever attack on American soil.
Never forget. But have we?
As opinions run rampant, protests get violent, arguments over masks, arguments over vaccines, arguments over Texas, fighting, arguing, contention, hatred.
Beth and I watched a 6-episode documentary titled, 9/11 One Day in America. This documentary was extraordinarily well done. Viewers be warned. It is deep, dark, and heavy. Just as that day was deep, dark, and heavy. A tragic day in American history.
Some things struck me as I watched: teamwork, bravery, compassion, love. This documentary was filled with extraordinary examples of selfless service to others in danger. It occurred to me, a New Yorker that might have bumped someone out of the way for a taxi was hours later putting their life in danger for a stranger in a stairwell.
I hope we never forget that day. I wish it didn’t take a tragedy to unite a country. Unfortunately, the pride cycle is real. We couldn’t be more divided now. Maybe if we truly remember, feel, and consider the unity that existed during and immediately after 9/11, we can reclaim that love for our fellow man.
I write this with as much humility as possible. Fully knowing and understanding my weaknesses have given me perspective. It is my faults and errors that make me feel like I can write this letter.
I remember when I came back to church I was asked to not take the sacrament for three weeks. It was one of the more difficult things I had to do, although it doesn’t sound like much. I think it was the moment I realized I had changed. Something that in the past might not have affected me too much, really hurt. It was difficult coming back and immediately feeling like maybe I’m not enough. Maybe I could have gone the route of resentment. Instead I realized how much I didn’t want to have to go through that again.
I don’t in any way imply I’m better than someone who can’t take the sacrament and does feel resentment. We all have our own paths. Mine was of being completely away, coming back, and realizing I deserved my three weeks. Some are never officially away so that state of probation seems unfair or not right. I understand that.
This is my letter to the sinner. A reminder, that includes all of us. This is the sinner who has made mistakes. This particular sinner might come from a perfect family and part of their struggle is feeling like they don’t fit in in the one place they should feel welcome. This sinner might feel judged by the very people that should love them the most. It doesn’t matter if those family, friends, and caring loved ones are right or wrong. It matters how the sinner interprets things. We all live our own experiences and encounter the world in different ways. We must, to the best our abilities, see the world in perfect light and perfect truth.
Here is my letter to a hypothetical sinner:
You will never be like the “perfect” people you see around you. You won’t. Your path has been set. Your path has been set partly by different “luck,” different experiences. Partly by your choices. My life was set by very bad choices. But now that I’ve come out of the other side, my joy is greater than I could have ever imagined. You won’t be “perfect”, but you’ll be who Heavenly Father sees you can be. You won’t be “better” than those who never made the mistakes you made, but you might be stronger. Your path will lead you somewhere wholly different. And if you decide you want to come through to the other side: to truly know your Savior, to know forgiveness, to know what being welcomed home feels like even if you don’t think you’ll ever deserve it – if you come to that other side with that relationship with your Savior, your testimony will be welded in steel, as hard as diamond. You’ll have gone through the refiner’s fire and come out united with He who gives all strength. This is no excuse to continue to sin. You know the light. You’ve seen and felt the light. I knew the light and I turned from it. I hope to help anyone not make the same mistake.
You will make mistakes. You will sin. But no matter what, you have to remember Jesus Christ. Because while the world will judge you and you’ll have to struggle with that, He will judge you with a perfect love and comprehension. Remember that those around you are trying to judge you with love. They’re trying to love you righteously. Jesus Christ doesn’t try. He is perfect love. Don’t forget it. Don’t forget that those around you whose points of view you can’t understand, they’re trying to be like Jesus Christ. They may be falling short. But that’s not for you to judge. Just as they can’t judge you, you can’t judge their intentions or efforts. Just love and do your best.
I’m sorry you have to go through trials. But do not lose sight of Jesus Christ. Do not. He is the only person true peace can come from. Whatever you do, whatever mistakes you make, do not forget HIM. He won’t forget you. I promise.
At this point I must apologize. Throughout this letter I’ve referred to you as “the sinner.” I know that phrase hurt the whole way through. I know it because I’ve felt it. I did it throughout the whole letter to get to this point. I want to remind you, “sinner” is not who you are. It will never be who you are. We all sin but that’s not what God and Jesus Christ see in us. No matter how many mistakes we make. No matter how many slip ups or downright wrong things you do, you are not a sinner. You are a child of Heavenly Father. You are growing. You are learning. I reiterate something I said earlier, this does not excuse your sin. Sin is wrong, you know that. Christ will see your sin. What means much more to Him is your repentance. He doesn’t see who you were but who you will be.
“God cares a lot more about who we are and who we are becoming than about who we once were. He cares that we keep trying.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund in April 2015 Conference talk “Latter-day Saints Keep on Trying”
Since I wrote that dramatic post about my near death it’s probably good etiquette to write a follow up about how I’m recovering.
The human body is a truly extraordinary thing. Blows my mind that some people think this thing that has a trillion parts working perfectly together can have fallen together like a puzzle from the sky. My healing has gone extremely well. It’s gone so well that Beth has had to remind me on multiple occasions about the seriousness of my accident.
Seriously. I think about what happened, and it doesn’t coincide with how smoothly my recovery has been. That’s not to say it’s been a complete walk in the park. There is a fair amount of pain, my head is constantly leaking, my arm hurts. All in all, it’s not that bad.
The truth is, my comfortable recovery may be due in large part to my on-staff nurse (I love you!). Beth has been the most attentive, caring, helpful person ever. Sometimes I wonder how she’s caring for me and a newborn all at the same time. Beth has daily and sometimes multiple times a day re-dressed my wounds. She’s taken off the bandages, helped clean, re-anoint, re-bandage my head and shoulder at least once a day since I was hurt. No wonder I’m healing well.
There was one night that was extraordinarily painful. The fifth night I think it was. We had wrapped my arm and shoulder like normal. Over the course of the night it itched and stung and hurt. Around 11pm I unwrapped the wound. I applied more ointment which didn’t help. Then I made a potentially grave mistake. We have some antiseptic numbing spray that in bold red letters on the bottle says “NO STING.” The greatest act of false advertising in the history of false advertising. The only defense I can think of is maybe they claim it’s no sting, instead it BURNS. It hurt so bad.
I spent four hours basically pacing around in pain. It’s crazy, a gaping head wound and it’s the road rash that is hurting, by far, the most.
Again, I feel extraordinarily blessed with how I’ve improved. I even worked a half day the first week. I would have worked another half day if not for the great night of burning arm. I attribute my recovery, apart from my visible angel here with me (Beth), to the same thing I attribute my life. I believe God and angels I can’t see are attending to me daily.
I want to thank everyone for their support while I’ve been hurt. It’s heart-warming to get messages of love and care from so many people.
In my last post I talked about the two things my mind rested on. God and family. There’s something that wasn’t said that I want to make sure is extremely clear. Family doesn’t only mean blood family. We’re all family here and while I’ve been blessed with the most amazing blood family, in-laws, wife, and daughter, it’s my extended, non-blood family that feels over the top.
As I’ve been hurt I’ve thought about all the people in my life that I can rely on. When I came to Arizona I moved away from all family. I didn’t know that I’d end up having so many people basically adopt me into their care. Friends that will drop anything to help me, offers for me to come over for holidays, help moving, help with my car. I was blessed with a roommate who’s family became my family away from home.
There are so many people I owe so much to.
This is personal, something I’ve never told anyone. In my prayers I often ask God what I did to deserve so much love? A loving family, loving friends. So many people that care for and watch out for me. It’s something I’ve asked often. I don’t know what I did to deserve so many amazing people in my life. All I know is I’m grateful for them.
So, thank you everyone for continuing to help us and watch over us. Thank you for the love. It means so much.
God and family.
____________________________________
Here is the progression of my arm healing (If you’re looking for day by day healing updates on my head, gross, go watch pimple popper videos). By the way, I’m not flexing in all those pictures, I still can’t fully extend my right arm:
Day 1
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 3
Day 3
Day 3
Day 4
Day 4
Day 5
Day 11
Day 11
Can’t end with mutilated arm pictures, to lighten things up:
“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.
No Coincidences 