There is a great responsibility for firstborns to love.
Think about it.
I was thinking about Sage. For her whole existence up to a point she will have shared, to some extent, the love and affection she receives with Ivy. Does this mean Sage is loved any less? No, absolutely not. She is endlessly loved.
That said, she has shared her love with Ivy.
It made me think, yet again, of all the singular love poured out on Ivy in her first 21 months.
It made me reflect on the love I received in the 45 months before Adie joined our family.
How did that shape me?
Given the measure of love and affection I received from two loving parents, singularly focused attention and love for 45 months, does that increase my responsibility to love?
Given this theory, I think firstborns have a higher responsibility to love. With great power comes great responsibility. There is no greater power in the world than love.
Maybe this is why the firstborn gets the birthright (wink face).
Thos of us who have experienced love, been given love, have felt love, it’s important for us to share that. There are so many in the world that don’t grow up in a loving household. If you’re reading this and you did grow up in a loving household, you’ve been given an advantage in life worth more than a huge inheritance. You’ve been given a huge leg up in this life if you were born into a loving home.
Share it.
Don’t waste the gift you’ve been given.
Now, here’s some food for thought to counter my “firstborn love theory” (Trademark pending) –
Other ideas to consider, did my love actually expand with the arrival of Adie (my little sister) because I had experienced love and now I got to share it with my little sister? Did my first learning experience of giving love outside of my parents who already loved me so much grow my capacity to love even more? Did getting to love somebody who couldn’t do anything for me help my capacity to love, learning at a young age to love somebody without getting anything in return? Does that add to my responsibility as the firstborn?
Or is Adie’s capacity to love greater than mine because she was born into loving a 3 person family, unlike myself? Does that make Easton’s (youngest of 6) capacity to love 3x mine since he was born into a family 3 times bigger than the one I was born into? How does this balance with my personal capacity to love expanding every time a new baby joined our family?
Love.
We need to think about it more.
Which leads to the ultimate, and powerful question: is love in limited supply?
We all have an infinite capacity to love. I don’t believe there is any limit on how we can love. I think God is our example in this. Think about how much He loves you. Whether you come from a loving household or not, whether you’re the firstborn of 10, an only child, an orphan, the youngest of 2, and all examples in between, you have a divine capacity to love. Divine. Your Father is God. He loves you. Your capacity to love is infinite. Use it. Share it.
Epilogue
The above post was written in May of 2023. I kid you not, as I opened it to review and post in 2026, Beth sent me a video with a text attached.
The text read: “Wren kept asking, “Where Ivy?” Then Ivy came down and Wren waved and said, “Good morning Ivy!” And gave her a hug. But Ivy was still waking up a bit so when she sat down to eat, Wren came over, gave her another gentle hug, and started gently rubbing Ivy’s back. It’s like Wren is teaching them how to love.”
I replied, “Reminding them.”
And Beth said, “Blog post!”
She knows me too well. But I didn’t realize I was about to post this!
We’ve been struggling a little with Ivy and Sage being gentle and loving with Wren as they get older. They are the older sisters, a lot more rambunctious and a lot more physical. Sometimes Wren messes up their “set ups” (toys they’ve setup). Wren wants to be with them and play with them but she’s very destructive. They struggle sharing with Wren. Wren is still little. So they’ve had a hard time.
But I know that Ivy was sent here to be an example as the oldest sister. I know that Sage was sent here to be a peacekeeping, independent, strong second daughter to keep everyone connected. Maybe Wren was sent to remind us all how to love. Maybe she’s meant to teach us to be a little more patient with one another.
Sage is very much forming full sentences now (callback to last post). She has a lot to say. A really neat thing to see is Sage’s adoration for her big sister. She follows Ivy around everywhere she goes. She’s started wearing Ivy’s slides to school, even though they’re way too big for her, because they’re Ivy’s old shoes.
Sage is still shy. She’s getting better, but still has her moments. She’ll open up to people rarely. If a stranger is around she becomes super coy. She’s gotten especially better with family and people she sees regularly. But once she knows you and trusts you, she is full Sagey Sunshine. She is a linchpin in nursery at church. She walks in and gets other kids toys. It’s weird because despite being shy she likes to sing as loudly as she can during sacrament meeting in church. The only way to get her to be quiet is to tell her everyone is watching her because she’s being too loud. She immediately quiets down and starts looking around. I hope I’m not irreparably damaging her psyche.
Ivy’s growth and transformation since Wren was born is extraordinary. She still has her toddler moments. but overall she seems like a new person. A new maturity has immerged. She is smotheringly loving with Wren.
Ivy and Sage are constantly asking to hold Wren. They love her.
I’ve been telling people the oldest child has to grow up fast, the middle child has to learn to survive, and the youngest child will be the toughest. Wren has been mauled since the second she got home. If you look closely at her eyes you can’t help but see a, “I left heaven for this?” Look on her face.
It’s interesting watching this dynamic develop between Ivy, Sage, and Wren, and then think about myself and my siblings. I think about how quickly I had to grow up, how Adie followed me around, and how much I used to beat up Garrick and Dresdan.
Recently Garrick sent me a video. It was a guy talking about his older brother. He was saying how he was grateful for his older brother because he watched his older brother take all the speed bumps so he didn’t have to. That meant a lot to me.
Now I’m seeing Ivy already start taking the speed bumps that Sage and Wren won’t have to.
Transition into a heartwarming sister story.
Bedtime is of course an adventure/disaster/struggle pretty much every night. Ivy and Sage share a room. Most nights they lay down, all seems quiet, then Sage gets out of bed, turns on the light, climbs onto Ivy’s bed, and they start playing. This would be okay, except that it turns into tears and pain almost 100% of the time if left unchecked.
One night we put Ivy and Sage to bed a little earlier than usual. I watched on the monitor as Sage turned on the light and got into Ivy’s bed. I went upstairs and opened the door. Sage immediately reacted by starting to frantically scoot towards the edge of the bed, as she was used to me angrily coming in to tell her to get back in bed. This night I decided to give another message. I told Sage she could stay with Ivy as long as they did calm and quiet activities like read and tell stories. Sage got so excited. The smile on her face. She scooted back toward Ivy and started quietly clapping with the biggest grin on her face.
Ivy said, “Okay, I be just a little crazy.”
I told her no crazy at all. She said, “Just this much crazy,” and showed her forefinger and thumb pressed tightly together indicating a tiny bit of crazy. I reiterated that there was to be no crazy. I left them to quietly play. They ended up peacefully going to sleep.
Bedtime, sitting and playing quietly together, turning on the light, I’ve learned every so often it’s okay to just let it go. It eventually ends up in Sage crying, but at that point she’ll just get in bed and go to sleep. Ivy will usually lie down quietly facing her lamp going through her books and audio sleep stories.
We recently moved. The days during the move were…hard. It was difficult for the girls. I could tell. It’s interesting how our personalities, the things people don’t see, get passed onto our children. I could sense my girls feeling unsettled because I felt unsettled.
I didn’t recognize Ivy and Sage during the move. They were not themselves. In the midst of this chaos, after they went to sleep, I had to write as I do every night. I came back to this post to continue on it.
Writing about them was just what I needed. I re-read this in progress post and it reminded me of the normal disposition of my girls. This wasn’t them.
I came back and read this –
I was in the car with Ivy on a long drive. I was zoned out, in my own head.
Suddenly Ivy said something to me. I just responded automatically without even thinking about what she said, “Yeah, Ivy.”
Then I processed what she said. “The moms on the bus go beep beep beep.”
Once I processed it, I realized Ivy was making our classic joke, saying something on the bus does something it doesn’t actually do.
I cracked up and told Ivy she got me, and that it was really funny.
She was silent so I didn’t know if she was over it because I took too long.
I looked in the rearview mirror and she was sitting in her car seat with a smug grin on her face.
“I made Dad laugh,” she said just loud enough for me to hear.
Gosh I love these girls so much and I’ll try not to turn this Ivy and Sage moments post into a parenting post but… parenting is so hard. All the cliches – there is no playbook for this, I don’t know what I’m doing, etc.
I am an apprentice parent. And who am I an apprentice to?
The Father of the universe. What an honor. I know I’ve written about this before but how could He possibly entrust me – so incredibly flawed and faulty – to care for these precious souls?
Anyways, back on to the positive, funny, and uplifting moments of parenting two amazing girls.
Sage is crazy in the pool. Ivy as a baby had a semblance of this behavior before she got old enough to know better, but it was nothing like Sage. If we’re sitting on a step in the pool, Sage will repeatedly walk to the edge of the step and dive out into the water as far as she can. She’s not just stepping off the edge, she is diving. She’ll do one of two things at this point. She will either curl up into a ball or she will stretch out completely like she’s trying to reach the other end of the pool. It goes without saying we watch her very closely in and near the pool.
My family likes to go cliff jumping at the lake. It’s one of our favorite activities. Looks like Sage is going to be my cliff jumper. Ivy will too, but Sage seems to have an innate desire for danger.
As a kid I hated roller coasters. Hated. I would be peer-pressured to go on rides, and I would hate it. I remember my cousin Sarah loving roller coasters and having the feeling that I needed to toughen up. My parents now say it was Adie getting old enough to ride roller coasters that made me start embracing them. Now there’s nothing I love more than thrill rides and thrill activities. Roller coasters, sky diving, cliff jumping – these are my favorite things to do. If you told my 8-year-old self I’d grow up and my three favorite things would be roller coasters, jumping out of an airplane, and doing a gainer off a 35-foot cliff, I’d probably have thought that unlikely. It’s interesting how those around us influence us so much, sometimes for the better.
Like I said, I think Sage is going to be a natural cliff-jumper. Ivy may see that and become a cliff-jumper as well.
Ivy does already love the lake, though. Let the record show.
There’s a mini battle Beth and I have had the last two summers when we visit Las Vegas. Beth doesn’t want Ivy to go to the lake with me and my family. I always think it goes without saying that she’s going.
I kind of understand Beth’s reservations.
I understand that Ivy is little, it can be the slightest bit dangerous if we don’t watch her closely (which we do), it’s hot, open water, etc.
On the other hand, Ivy has to come to the lake with us!
Beth’s main concern I know is that I’m not fully engaged in parenthood when at the lake. Hard to watch your daughter while you’re leaping off cliffs. That said, when I’m not jumping off cliffs, there’s nothing I want more than to be sitting with Ivy on a boat, a kayak, or swimming with her.
When we finally did take Ivy to the lake for the first time, she loved it. She spent 8 hours at the lake, took a little cat nap in the shade while cruising around in a boat, went home, drove to St. George, and proceeded to stay up all night. Ivy’s a lake girl.
One last funny Ivy story and Sage story to conclude this post.
Ivy the other day started to say, “We’re going to do Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and Christmas.” As I was starting to think to myself, ‘Wow, how’d she know the order of holidays? My girl is growing up..’ Ivy concluded, “We’re going to do it backwards this year.” That made me chuckle.
As I mentioned, we moved. The new neighborhood is full of little kids under the age of 9. Coming from essentially a retirement community at our condo, that’s been great.
The other day Ivy and Sage were sitting in the grass playing with a new friend. Ivy was talking a lot, telling this new friend stuff. Sage, still her coy and quiet self at times, was repeating everything Ivy was saying, just extremely quiet. So Ivy would say, “This is how you make rock people” and Sage would whisper, “how..make.. rock people.”
This would have been the fifth installment of “Ivy Thoughts” but instead we get our first “Ivy and Sage Thoughts”! Welcome to my world of two adorable daughters. Come on in.
Let’s start with Sage since she’s new to the segment. She hasn’t started forming full sentences yet, but it’s time she became an official part of these posts.
Sage loves the Bluey song. For those who aren’t familiar, you can click HERE.
In the song where it yells “Mom,” “Dad,” “Bingo,” and “Bluey” Sage yells “Dad!” every time. If she hears that song she stops, stares, and yells “Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” I enjoy her rendition of the theme song.
Sage is off the charts shy, including around family she doesn’t get to see that often. It’s really interesting because this “shyness,” for lack of a better term, has been a part of Sage since she was a baby. When she was a baby she would sometimes start screaming and crying if someone looked at her. That has continued into her toddler-hood.
Sage doesn’t like extra attention on her, besides from Beth and I. There was a moment where this became clear. We were doing Sage’s first birthday party at her grandparents. There were great grandparents, aunts, uncles and family there. We put a cake and candles in front of Sage. We sang happy birthday to her. What would normally be a dream come true, a whole cake in front of her, turned quickly to a nightmare when we finished singing and she looked around at all this mass amount of love and attention on her. Sage burst into tears. The collective attention and singing was too much for her to take.
We’ve seen my family four weekends in the last 6 weeks. Every time we see my family Sage needs at least 24 hours to warm up. She will not go near anyone, gets upset if she gets picked up (or even looked at), and is excessively shy. She will cling to Beth or myself, often laying her head on our shoulder or snuggling her face into our arm to avoid anyone looking at her.
What’s interesting about this is Sage is the outgoing one between her and Ivy. Sage is wild and crazy and outgoing when comfortable. But if there are strangers around, she gets quiet and closes in on herself. I think I’m like this. It’s interesting how our characteristics are passed onto our children and how some things are just built into us, even as babies. Sage is shy and reserved the same way I was always shy and reserved growing up.
This past weekend when we were with my family it was fascinating watching Sage’s transformations. At one point Sage was sitting on my lap outside. My mom was in a chair across from us. Sage was snuggling next to me and being her normal (for this weekend) shy, quiet, timid self with my mom nearby. My mom got up to walk inside. The second she was gone Sage stood up and started laughing and screaming and playing. It was an instant transformation. She loves my family once she warms up. Once she warms up she’s crazy and laughing and playing, but until then she is terrified of any outside attention coming her way.
Sage has inherited plenty of nicknames already. Some of her nicknames include Sagey Sunshine, Sagerific, Rif, Rific, Sage Laura, Roo, and Smudge. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head. That’s to say nothing of the dozens and dozens of nicknames Ivy has given her.
One last special Sage moment that I think exemplifies strong second child. I dropped Ivy and Sage off at school recently. This was out of the ordinary as Beth usually takes them to school and Ivy was letting it be known this was not in routine. She was crying, saying she was sick, and making a big hubub. While Ivy was melting down I set all our stuff down – snacks for the school for the day, draw bags of washed sheets, lunch boxes, and waters. The teacher patiently gathered all our stuff while I consoled Ivy. Sage meanwhile had walked in through the first gate and was waiting to be let in to go play. The teacher was holding Ivy’s lunch box and looking around. “Where is Sage’s lunchbox?” She asked looking all over the place. I looked around too. It was just there. Sage walked back from the second gate and pointed on the shelf where she had set her lunchbox. She then turned around with a complete, “See the people I have to deal with?” look on her face as she waited to be let in to school to start playing.
Now onto some classic Ivy thoughts.
After getting home late from grandparents’ home one night, I asked Ivy for a hug and a kiss. She gave me a big hug then she got her face really close to mine and said, “sticker time,” patted her chest and said, “Ivy tired” and got into bed. Still not sure what sticker time meant or was referring to.
Ivy flushed a toy down the toilet. I told her if she did that again the toilet would break and we’d need to go to the store when we needed to go to the bathroom. She seemed perplexed about this and continued to ask questions. I emphasized that flushing things down the toilet could break the toilet. “I break the house?” She asked. Seizing the opportunity to potentially get her to understand the severity of flushing something down the toilet I replied, “Yes, flushing toys down the toilet could break the whole house.” This had a big impact. She proceeded to tell Beth that she was worried she was going to break the house.
The next day we were at church. Beth took Ivy to the bathroom. Ivy looked up at Beth and said, “If I flush a toy down the toilet, I break the church?” Beth told me later, that time I caught Ivy flushing a toy down the toilet was the second straight day Ivy had flushed something down the toilet at home. Beth hadn’t told me because she didn’t want me to freak out. Well, now Ivy is convinced our house is going to collapse into a pile of rubble if she flushes anything besides toilet paper down the toilet. She hasn’t put anything in the toilet since. Parenting win.
Ivy really doesn’t like crane flies. They freak her out. We explained to Ivy that crane flies aren’t bad. They’re actually pretty good because they don’t bother people, but they eat the little bugs that annoy us. Ivy said, “They kill little bugs?” “Yes,” we replied. “They don’t kill people?” That made us laugh. “No,” we explained, “they don’t even hurt people.” Ivy said, “I’m glad they don’t kill people.”
There’s a toy I grew up with called Playmobil. They’re little figures that I played with nonstop. I still love Playmobil. Ivy has the same love of them and they are all she plays with when we visit Grandma and Grandpa Q’s house in Las Vegas. Ivy has the same love of order that I do and can spend hours lining them up in orderly groups.
These little figures have plastic hair pieces that click into their heads. When a Playmobil figure is missing its hair its head becomes bowl-like. The top of their head basically becomes a hole. Ivy saw a Playmobil figure without its hair once and exclaimed, “Oh no! He has a hole in his head. Let me see the hole in your head.” I showed Ivy the spot in the back of my head where hair still doesn’t completely grow. “Awww,” she said sympathetically.
Before one more heartwarming story, I’ll share a full on threenager moment. This morning Ivy got out of bed and came out of her room. I was just about to walk out the door. Ivy does the cutest thing right now. She walks out and says, “Good morning, Dad, Cory is here” (new alias, Cory Matthews from Boy Meets World).
I said, “Good morning, Cory, come give me a hug before I leave for work.”
She walked over and said, “A hug and a big smooch.”
She hugged and kissed my leg. I put my arm around her and patted her head. She started to walk away then came back and did it again. I again patted her head. She started to walk away then came back again. Same process. I started to think she was broken when on the fourth return walk she said, with feirce anger in her eyes, “No, no, no, Dad, don’t touch my head.” So I didn’t touch her head this time and she hugged my leg, gave it a kiss, and walked away. Then she turned around and looked at me and said, “When you touch my head my hair gets so so so crazy! Don’t pat my head, Dad!” She was holding back tears as she walked to our room to say good morning to Beth. As she walked into our room she slammed our door. The teenage years are going to be great, I can feel it.
But to balance that, let’s end with a heartwarming Ivy moment. Ivy recently hugged me one night and looked up at me and said, “You’re the best, Dad.”
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.
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 