I consider myself a relatively laid-back individual. I have some high-strung tendencies that I try to keep under control. I would hope most people would say I’m a “go with the flow” kind of person.
There is one specific circumstance where all my patience, laid-back, go-with-the-flow ability goes right out the window. That’s for road trips.
I know I’m not alone on this. I’m one of those people that considers the 4.5 hour trip to Las Vegas as a Nascar race. That analogy holds true more for pit stops than in actual speed. I consider a bathroom break a great opportunity for that semi-truck I so meticulously passed to quickly catch right back up to me.
This angst once on the road starts well before we even enter the car. The week leading up to a trip I’m constantly thinking about what I need to do, what I need to pack, creating a checklist of what I need to pack, double and triple checking my list of what I need to pack, etc.
I drive Beth absolutely crazy. I’ve tried to tone it down for her sake. I’ve tried to “enjoy the ride.” She can comment on how successful I’ve been in that.
Last week we were travelling for Christmas. Imagine my average travel angst multiplied by 10. What presents do we need to bring? Are they wrapped? Did we bring warm clothes? On and on it goes. Which is why the coincidence of my Monday guided meditation was bizarre in its timing.
It was literally titled, “Daily Trip – My Urgency Story.” The meditation was described as “the antidote to your own urgency story.”
I listened to it a couple times throughout the week to try to mellow myself out. I’m not going to provide any advice here on mellowing out on trips. I already posted a hypocritical post two weeks ago. Don’t need another.
All I’ll say is this: if you think God doesn’t have a vested interest in your day-to-day life, stop and look.
That’s all.
He’s always watching and helping. We just need to see it.
I was meditating and thanking God for all He has given me in this life. It was the day after Thanksgiving. I had just watched Ivy with so much love around her, as detailed in Love has Afforded Me Much. Ivy was surrounded by aunts, uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents, cousins, second cousins, great uncles, great aunts and the list goes on. She was receiving so much love.
That visual again brought me to realizing and remembering that was me 30 years ago. I was the one having love poured out on me. It brought me to a repeated thought: what did I do to deserve this?
What did I do to deserve the family I was born into? Now, how lucky I am to be one half of the uniting of two families – the Quackenbushes and the Cannons. How blessed will Ivy be from a life of love from those two extended families she’s been born into?
How blessed have I been from being born into the Leaches and the Quackenbushes? An un-quantifiable amount of blessed.
Where does that blessing come from? Where does it stem from? What was the catalyst of this blessed, love-filled life I’ve been given? The catalyst, the starting point, is the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. Three of my four grandparents converted to the church. My fourth grandparent came from a faithful family back to the days of Joseph Smith. I am forever grateful for my grandparents and the generations of love and family they’ve created.
A similar story can be said from Beth’s side of the family, the Cannons and Vauterlauses.
The thought that occurred to me while meditating, to add to how Love has Afforded me Much, was this: I started to pray to God to please bless all those who didn’t have all the love Ivy had on Thanksgiving Day. All those who don’t have great family dynamics, who feel lonely, who feel lost, who feel afraid; I asked God to let them feel His love. I asked Him to spare no angels in pouring out blessings on those who don’t feel loved in this world.
Then it occurred to me. Love has Afforded me Much. God has given me a surplus of love. A love I can’t quantify. It’s my responsibility to share that excess of love I’ve been blessed with, with God’s children, my brothers and sisters across the globe. I pray that I can share the love that’s been given to me with those around me.
I believe the greatest thing I can do to share that love, the greatest thing any one of us can do that have been given (Luke 12:48) so (D&C 82:3) much (Boyd K. Packer), is to share the source of that love. The source of that love is Jesus Christ, His Gospel, His Church. It is our responsibility to share with others what has blessed us so.
Love is important. Supporting someone, listening to someone, loving someone, these are all noble. But what of generational love? What of the love that permeates through families – of children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren? That’s what my grandparents created. That love started with missionaries sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with three of my grandparents, and with the gospel being shared to one of my Great Great Grandparents by Joseph Smith.
I am grateful for this Church. I am grateful for the blessing it has been to me and my family. I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for allowing me this greatest of all blessings. I feel a noble responsibility, a beautiful weight to share it with others. My wish is that the world can accept Jesus Christ and experience the love he has to share.
I love Jesus Christ, and I am forever grateful to Him.
“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.
We’ve been having a difficult time with Ivy’s sleeping the last couple weeks. This morning I woke up and Beth was awake. I asked if Ivy got up during the night.
Beth laughed.
Not a good sign.
Beth said yes Ivy did get up during the night. She said she was rocking Ivy and could tell that Ivy was not going to go back to sleep. So she did something drastic.
Warning: this strategy is not recommended, and we know full and well this is NOT a good idea.
Beth said she GOT IN IVY’S CRIB WITH HER. My first thoughts, it didn’t break?
I looked at Beth and said instead, “…is that ok?”
Beth responded that of course no, it’s not ideal. It’s not safe and the crib could have broken. All bad things. Like the title of the post says, Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures.
Beth continued to tell me that after a while she got out of the crib and successfully returned to our bedroom. A hero had slain the dragon. A cute little booty-up-in-the-air-dragon, but a dragon nonetheless.
She said she got into bed and Ivy started to stir and cry. Beth asked me if I remembered in the middle of the night her saying, “oh no.” Beth told me I then started patting her on her back. I vaguely remember this.
But then a miracle happened! Ivy went back to sleep. Hallelujah.
After hearing Beth’s tale, I started to meditate to prepare for the day. My mind drifted to this story as the mind is wont to do during meditation. I thought about that moment when Ivy cried and very well should have continued screaming until one of us came to get her.
A past successful night of sleep resistance. The smug face of a champion saying, “I’m the boss here,” cross-legged and all.
The coolest visual came to me as I was meditating. You see, that night was the first time in months that I slept a night without getting out of bed. MONTHS.
This is the visual that came to me. Ivy started to cry, and God said, “someone do something!” And a legion, thousands of angels came pouring out of heaven to comfort and console Ivy back to sleep. Heavenly Father was like, “give that man one full night in his bed.”
It was a true miracle and that’s the only possible explanation.
So I say, thank you Heavenly Father, I sure needed that.
“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 