“Tell me about your family…”
I hung on those words for several days after I met her, agonizing over what I didn’t say, what I couldn’t say in the few seconds I felt I could take of her time.
She was kindness, empowerment, and love in human form. The epitome of feminine accomplishment and influence, the perfection of motherhood. I had come to hear her speak to our Stake about raising children unto the Lord and by the time the benediction was offered had felt overwhelmingly inspired. Her words had touched my heart deeply and I simply had to meet this marvelous woman and thank her. But she was an important person, and I was…well, nobody. No one of consequence, anyway. Would I be imposing on her time with all these other people she seemed to know waiting to greet her?
As my husband urged me closer, I finally gathered my courage and approached her. In true groupie fashion, and feeling hopelessly unversed in conversation with a person of her spiritual stature, I opened my mouth not knowing what would come out.
“Sister Wixom, you don’t know me…”
“Oh, I think I do!” She kindly retorted as she pulled me in for one of the warmest embraces I’ve ever received.
That was all it took.
Tears sprung to my eyes, my throat tightened up, and I felt the ugly quiver in my mouth as I tried to express to her how grateful I was for her message.
After a few moments of woman to woman emotional profusion that probably didn’t include a single complete sentence, she sweetly inquired, “Tell me about your family.”
And just like that, I forgot how to speak.
It was as though every thought, every feeling I have ever had about the topic came to a screeching halt right at the left frontal lobe of my brain.
My family.
My greatest joy, my keenest challenge, my entire purpose for living. The thing that occupies the majority of my thoughts at all times, every single day…what could I possibly say in that brief moment between us?
Of course, I eventually said something. I remember words coming out about a bad first marriage, finding my Seth a while later, having just had our first baby girl after five boys, and the Gospel keeping us together. But nothing that even remotely gave justice to our story.
After a few more expressions of gratitude and admiration, we parted.
Doh! Why could I not think of something better to say? And what on earth was that bit about a bad first marriage? That certainly wasn’t a necessary detail to share. Good heavens.
In the week or so since that exchange I have thought a great deal about what I wish I could have told her, what I wish she could know about me and the seven other people I am privileged to grow with, love, and nurture on this earth. What would I say to her if I had another chance?
The more I have thought, the more I realized that, actually, every bit of information I included in my answer to Sister Wixom told an important part our life, of what defines who we are today. Really, the only thing missing from that awkward, little synopsis was context.
So today I want to share that context, perhaps as a way of satiating this unsettling desire to set the record straight, as it were. Though I will probably never have the chance of meeting her again, that elusive narrative must not remain unspoken.
A bad first marriage.
Not much is required to say here. I met someone my freshman year at BYU who charmed his way into my heart. With as much knowledge and experience as I had at the age of 19, I felt that marrying him was the right thing to do. This was followed by a confirmation of the Spirit as I understood it and we were sealed in the temple a very short time later. I quickly discovered that the agency of others is something we cannot always predict and over which we do not have control. I had three beautiful, sweet boys during this marriage of eight years, something I cannot feel sad about. If ever there was a purpose for pain and heartache, these precious children were it.
Other significant outcomes of those octadic years were learning to rely on the Lord, an increase of personal testimony of my Father’s love for me, and the close friendships I built with many amazing women who unwittingly carried my burdens with me. I would not be who I am today without those experiences.
Finding my Seth.
Dating again after being consumed in domestic life for so long was not something I welcomed easily. In fact, I dreaded the thought to my very core. How could I possibly trust a man ever again? And furthermore, who would want me? Who with the kind of qualities I now knew to look for would choose to take on this life when he could have a “normal” one? I was certain I would be single for the rest of my life. And I was okay with that, quite honestly.
Now, I don’t believe in “soul mates,” necessarily. But I do believe with all of my heart that God had been preparing someone for me; someone whom I could trust, someone who would be willing to step into the instant dad role that my boys would so desperately need; and most importantly, a faithful, kind, and loving man who would truly honor, respect, and even admire me as his equal. I’m not sure why I was so blessed to find such a man, but I did. Seth entered the scene in 2008 and my life changed forever. We dated for over two very important and necessary years and were sealed in the Oquirrh Mountain Temple on April 28th, 2011.
For the first time ever I knew what it felt like to be truly cherished and to have complete faith in a man, because of his faith in God. And over the course of these last seven years I have watched my Seth transform from a guy who had never so much as changed a diaper to a man whose dedication, humor, protection, sacrifice, wisdom, spirituality, and love have earned him the title of Dad from every one of our now six children.
Our first baby girl.
Every one of my boys has been a delight, a blessing, and a joy. I cannot imagine my life without any one of them. They are my world. But from the time I was old enough to understand that I would one day be a mother, I have longed for a daughter. As I matured into my child bearing years, this desire grew stronger and stronger, stemming not from a need for more frill and femininity, but from a place deep within my soul that yearned for a kind of restitution. You see, in my youth my own identity as a female had so often felt smothered, stifled, and restrained. For reasons too cumbersome for this particular post, I felt for much of my life a diminished sense of self-worth and did not recognize my value beyond what I could either produce intrinsically or display physically.
However, over this last decade of study, self reflection, and divine communication, I feel I have finally shattered that erroneous paradigm and replaced it with an understanding of who I really am: a daughter of God who is loved by Him unconditionally, simply because I am His. This ameliorated perspective had been the undergirding factor in my desire for a daughter these last five years especially. I so desperately wanted a girl because now I had a husband whom I knew could be my partner in passing these principles along, principles that could be the foundation for a life lived without the limitations of self-doubt. And what a light her life would be!
And now she is here.
In our family. A family that is now complete.
This past Sunday our angel girl was the recipient of her first priesthood blessing, an event that felt as surreal as it did celestial. Through the hands and voice of her earthly father, our precious Clara was given a message of love and promise from her Father in Heaven just for her. What an incredible and sacred gift for her to carry throughout her life…both the words of the blessing and the blessing of having a father like this. A man so worthy and so in tune with the divine that when acting in God’s name, power and profundity can fall from his lips so effortlessly.
We celebrated the occasion after church with yummy food, family, and lots and lots of pictures.
{ Yes, the flower is gigantic. But it holds personal significance. I made her headpiece from the hair accessory I wore for my wedding }
{ Dress details }
{ For as long as it took me to make this thing, we had to give this dress ample attention. }
{ All the good photos: credit of my talented sister-in-law, Tara Crane }
And tucked away in my heart was a wish that Sister Wixom could be with us for a few minutes, just to see what my words could not express. Because this was a day that told so well our family story.
And the overarching theme, the premise of our life in general, is in fact the last coherent thought that I did manage to utter in that conversation…
the Gospel keeping us together.
❤❤❤❤❤