Dear Mom, These are the times that try Bakers’ souls.

And we ask thee, Holy Father, that thy servants may go forth from this house armed with thy power, and that thy name may be upon them, and thy glory be round about them, and thine angels have charge over them. Doctrine & Covenants 109:22

Week of March 24 – 30

I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit that this week has given us a beating. Hopefully writing to you about it will be therapeutic and I will feel better afterward (and hopefully you do not feel worse after reading it. :)

First up was a lethal duel with our taxes – getting them filed in both CO and AR was tricky, even for the kindly AARP accountant who helped me. There was an orthodontist appointment for Fluffy during which a very nice person put implements of torture between his molars. There were bouts with the big D that showed me the inevitable effect of my two weeks of not exercising while ill. And those were just the high points of the week.

Just kidding. Actually there were a couple of brightly shining moments. Like a spring walk with Rosebud.

And visiting teaching was a bright moment, too. Nothing like sharing your testimony to start feeling heavenly strength behind you.

Really, the hardest part of the week was just facing some tough realities about our situation. DC is working his living tail off and still feels like he’s trying to learn it all in a foreign language. He just found out that the seemingly ideal fieldwork assignment for the summer probably is not a good choice after all, and is scrambling to find a different one which he will likely need to commute to. I have started looking for a new place to rent and am despairing at the soaring prices. Our normal everyday schedule of Exacto in seminary and at one school and Fluffy homeschooled and Hummer at another school with no bussing and getting them to Scouts on two different nights and Rosebud having major tantrum issues blah blah blah – just normal family stuff – feels so heavy. The issues I am having with the big D are not helping, and it all feels like too much. We are cracking. The funny farm sounds like a lovely restful place. :)

On Saturday we went early to the temple and just sat in the parking lot for a while as I blubbered and tried to get calm enough to go in. Frankly, I was angry. Angry that we are having so many problems that we “shouldn’t” be having. Angry that our life is so different from what we had planned and hoped and worked so dang hard for. Really and helplessly furious at the fact that we are so strapped for time and money and emotional energy. I just felt like there was no help. That we are basically alone in these struggles. It was not one of my finer moments. (I am only admitting all this because I hope it will help me and maybe it will help someone else who is carrying particularly heavy burdens right now.)

It would be silly to have driven all the way down to Denver and not go inside the temple, so with eyes still red and swollen, I walked in hoping for a change of heart.

I have been going to the temple for nearly half my life now—I received my own endowment just after my 19th birthday and now I am 36. But that morning there were so many new things I learned through the Spirit. Some of them were things I knew but needed reminding – like why life is so hard sometimes. One was an overwhelming sense of awe and gratitude at the gift of the Atonement. How could I not see the hope that is in my life because of Christ?

I came out a different person. I felt strong and happy and grateful, ready to face again this challenging little moment in our eternal development. May those “clouds of glory” I was trailing last for a long time!

I have exposed a rather less-attractive part of my soul. I hope anyone reading this is gentle to me. And oh, how I hope I can continue to grow and change! I am such a baby. Obviously I need these sorts of tough times. . . .

Fort Collins temple site in background

I am really, really excited about general conference this weekend! There I will hear words and feel things that will strengthen and comfort me and make me able to continue on.

Thanks for listening and for all the ways you help us. I know we are not alone, and in fact, ridiculously blessed.

Love,

Michelle

Benjamin's 3rd Birthday: His Place in Our Family

Who can say for certain?
Maybe you're still here.
~ "To Where You Are," Linda Thompson

I wrote Benjamin's story here on the blog in the weeks following his death. Something I wrote at the end has bothered me ever since: "And now it is time to learn to live without this precious son."

A paradox of parental bereavement is that while you are physically separated permanently from your child, you are so consumed by thoughts and feelings about him that it is as if he is always with you in your heart and mind, perhaps even more than if he were physically with you. Yet all that is invisible. For the first few months and even years you walk around with an agonizing hole inside, every heartbeat longing for the child missing from your arms, and the Walmart worker or the new neighbor or the man walking down the street has no idea. There is a sense of almost panic that everyone but you will forget about your child who is so deeply loved and important to you. I struggled with reconciling the lack of physical presence with the intense desire to feel him close, knowing that it was possible.

I am acquainted with two very special people who have dealt with loss in ways that have inspired me. One is Ruth Flake, a sister in the small town in Arizona where my parents live, whose husband was a cattle rancher. They raised a large family, and looked forward to serving a full-time mission when he retired. Not long before they would have been able to go, Bro. Flake contracted serious pneumonia and died. This was of course a crushing blow to his family, and what Sis. Flake did next filled me with awe. She went on a mission. She said that she knew her husband was serving on the other side of the veil, and this way they would be serving together. She included mentions of him in her letters home.

The other inspiration for this post is from Megan. Her two beautiful twin daughters were taken from her even earlier than my son was taken from me. She wrote one time about adjusting to living with her girls "on another sort of plane. They are not gone far. Whenever I go into our backyard, I like to think of them on the other side of the fence." I loved this. It immediately helped me shift my mindset a little bit towards the amazing faith of Ruth Flake. I wanted to learn to live with my son, even though he physically is not here.

The past three years have been spent carving out Benjamin's place in our family and in the world--the place he would naturally have if he were here whenever possible--the place he deserves as our son, brother, nephew, grandson, and cousin. I feel blessed well beyond what I deserve to have family and friends who have supported us so completely and lovingly in this process. The panic I used to feel has dissolved into a peaceful reassurance that no one who loves us will forget our son Benjamin. They love him, too. And that has allowed me amazing peace and healing. It has helped me more than anything to return to enjoying life.

Maybe sometime I will post about specific things family members have done for his birthday and Christmas, or how friends have showed compassion at just the right times. But in many cases it almost feels like that might tarnish a little bit the beauty of what they have done--the quiet privacy of these acts was part of the love shown. So this post will be about our immediate family and the ways we have found to include Benjamin in our family right now, buoyed up by the fact that we are not alone in remembering him.

Some ways we have found to live with Benjamin. . . .

~ We talk about him often, and usually without tears. We always include him in the count when people ask how many children we have. We wonder aloud what he would be doing if he were here.

~ He is on our Family Home Evening chart! This was Hummer's idea. I made the chart back in 2004 with two blank name cards, just in case. :) They stayed blank until a few months ago, when Hummer decided to rectify the situation with a permanent marker. At first it made me sad, but then I realized it was a great way to include Benjamin. If he's on "Prayer", someone gives it for him. If he's on "Share", we look at a page or two in his scrapbook. If he's on any of the others, we just try to think of what he might like to choose if he were here. And I believe he often is here for FHE. :)

 

~ We have rituals and traditions that include him. Nearly every Sunday after church, we go to the cemetery. Exacto, Fluffy, and Hummer don't always actually come to his gravesite, but spend the time down at the lake, chasing the Canadian geese or inspecting the fish and turtles. Rosebud and I walk to his grave and just stand and think for a while, and I usually take a picture. We plant live flowers there in almost every season. We decorate with things that we think are beautiful or that remind us of him.

 

~ We try to find ways to include him in our family portraits. Some ideas we've used are: photoshopping an actual photo of him into the picture, holding a white rose to symbolize him, and this summer at our family reunion, a cute little snail stood in for him. I thought this was appropriate, since Benjamin would have been 2 1/2 in this picture and probably quite enamored with snails. :)

 

~ His birthday includes special meals just like all our other birthdays, and a particular cake. His birthday cake is the most delicious carrot cake you'll ever have, made with whole wheat. Here's the recipe I use:

Benjamin’s Birthday Cake

CAKE

2 cups whole wheat flour

2 cups sugar

2 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tsp. ground ginger

4 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

4 cups shredded carrots (I buy matchstick carrots, then chop a little more)

1 cup chopped walnuts (DC leaves these out)

2 tsp. vanilla

FROSTING

3 oz. cream cheese

¼ cup (½ stick) butter

2 cups powdered sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

Butter & flour two 8” round cake pans. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Sift together dry ingredients. Beat together eggs and oil. Beat in dry ingredients. Add carrots, walnuts and vanilla.

Pour batter evenly into two cake pans. Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes until done. Do NOT overcook. Cool in pans for 20 minutes. Remove from pans and cool completely. Frost and refrigerate for 12 hours or more.

Frosting: Soften cream cheese and butter. Beat together until fluffy. Stir in powdered sugar gradually. Stir in vanilla. Frost cake lightly. Keep refrigerated.

 

~ We have written a special FHE lesson that we give on the Monday night near his birthday. It is always a beautiful spiritual experience to talk together as a family about Benjamin and the hope we have through Jesus Christ of really being with him again. We each take a turn saying what we look forward to doing with him.

Please, No Empty Chairs - FHE Lesson

 

There are many others. I always love discovering new ways to include him in our everyday life. Someday I will know how close he really is right now, and how often he was actually with us when we couldn't see him.

Day 49 - { time }

Look back on time with kindly eyes,   
He doubtless did his best;   
How softly sinks his trembling sun   
In human nature’s west!

~Emily Dickinson

This past Sunday was our 3rd opportunity to attend the annual SHARE memorial service and balloon release, held at the hospital where Benjamin and Rosebud were born. I groaned and started praying when I saw the forecast -- heavy chance of rain and possibility of tornadic activity.

The highlight of the event is writing notes to our babies, attaching them to the balloons, then riding the elevator to the top of the parking deck, where a song is sung, and the balloons are released. To have an Arkansas-style storm, complete with tornado sirens going off, would put a decided damper on things. I know I wasn't the only one praying for the skies to be clear at least during the balloon release!

When we arrived, it was threatening but not actually raining. It had already poured buckets that morning, but seemed to be holding off for a while. The service was beautiful, and we proceeded with faith to fill out the notes for the balloons.

 

 

Our family's balloons got tangled together as we went through doorways and rode the elevator, but we decided that was nice and symbolic. :) Some of us still held on to our own string so we could feel the pull skyward. Still no rain.

 

 

It was pretty windy, and when we let go, the balloons quickly drifted behind us, passing right over the hospital.

 

 

Rosebud's balloon got stuck in one of those lower trees (you can barely see it in the picture above), but soon the wind pushed it out and it wended its way up alone.

 

 

Such a feeling of peaceful contentment comes when I am with my husband and my living children and we are remembering together our Benjamin, who is so present in our hearts, but invisible to all who see us. Something about being with people who recognize that there is one more person in our family--who look at the 6 of us together and visualize 7--always makes me happy.

 

 

We came in and gorged ourselves on sugar (especially those younger male members of our family :) and as we headed back out to our car to go home, the rain started to fall with a vengeance. The tornado sirens went off, and suddenly there was lightning and thunder and all heck broke loose. We ended up having to wait in the parking garage for a while, listening to the radio to know when it would be safe to get on the road.

What a miracle! We thanked Heavenly Father for holding back the rain until after that special event.

But the really amazing thing was this:

I realized that earlier I had been praying for the sake of the new babylost parents, and not so much for me! I couldn't stand the thought of those recently bereaved moms and dads, with that awful rawness of grief that I remember all too well, missing out on this special chance to have their children recognized and remembered. I would have been disappointed, but okay if this time we couldn't release the balloons!

Now that is a miracle!

 

Thinking back on the past two October 31st's and November 1st's. . . . there was a sort of panicky desperation to those days. . . .I wanted to avoid any reminders of what had happened on those days in 2007.

This year it is different. I still have no intention of celebrating Halloween. I think that will always be too painful (which is too bad, because Rosebud would be awfully cute in a little costume. :) As we approach those days of significance again, I am amazed and grateful at what I feel now, three years later. It is more of a peaceful longing sort of feeling, rather than fear or depression.

How grateful I am that the grief has indeed lost its sharpness. It is not unbearably heavy anymore, although its bittersweet pang still comes daily.

It will be okay.

Thank You, dear Heavenly Father, for bringing me through three years' Time .

Eighteen Months

Today marks Benjamin's 18-month birthday. It would have been his first day in Nursery! So sweet to think about! Of course, he would be the cutest little curly headed boy ever, toddling around on chubby legs. I think he has light blue-gray eyes. . . .

And I would be sitting so comfortably in Relief Society, breathing a huge sigh of relief that I didn't have to wrassle with him all through Church anymore.

Today I'll probably sigh, but it won't be of relief. It won't be completely of sadness, either. The sadness is still potent sometimes, but it tends more towards a wistful thoughtfulness now. I feel more of the reality that I have such a beautiful son, about whom I never need to worry.

The poem I want to share for this post is one I started writing well over a year ago. I had had this powerful thought about the fact that having a piece of my heart permanently missing from earth, while painful, has the useful effect of loosening the hold this world has on me. It totally changed my perspective about the length of mortal life, and the purpose of trials.  So I wrote about it.

Today also marks my Grandpa Bailey's 91st birthday. He died just a few days after Benjamin. (My poor dad--he went from speaking at his grandson's funeral to speaking at his father's funeral only six days later!) I miss him today, too.

The sealing power of temple covenants through the Atonement of Jesus Christ is what makes experiences like these not only bearable, but cause for joy! Treasure laid up in heaven cannot rust or decay. Each painful loss here equals the deepest happiness there.

So I added to the poem about my treasured son, and revised it a few times, and here it is: :)

 

Day 21 - { heavenly conference weekend }

This weekend was heaven on earth for me.

To spend eight hours listening to gorgeous music and the powerful, uplifting words of the prophets while seated on the couch next to my Darling Cutie. . . .

And on a blanket in front of us, three of our sons enjoying MnM's and colored pencils and Conference packets. . . 

It really felt like we came out of the world for a couple of days.

Didn't it seem like a lot of the talks were about being "of good cheer" in the face of adversity?

Elder Scott's talk in particular struck me deeply.

In fact, I need to repent. I have shared a lot of negative emotion on this blog lately, and I am sorry!

Starting from the moment I felt the Spirit prompt me during Elder Scott's talk, I have resolved to stop complaining about this trial. Start focusing as much as possible on the eternal joy I have to look forward to.

The words of the prophets this weekend made eternity seem not so far away.

I know it doesn't mean I will suddenly stop feeling pain. In fact, I realized yesterday for the first time that I will surely go through loss again before this life is over. I will likely have to say goodbye to many of my loved ones before eternity arrives.

So I want to be like Elder Scott and not complain. I want to focus on the wonderful, living people around me that I love so much. I want to look toward eternity as something that will arrive sooner rather than later and live each day completely and as joyfully as I can.

{ Hummer is up from his Quiet Time now, and I need to end this post. }

Can't wait till the transcripts are posted on the Church's website so I can post some of my favorite one-liners!

Until then, I sing out my gratitude for this beautiful weekend. I feel so refreshed and strengthened!

I thank Thee, Heavenly Father!

Day 18 - { photoshop! }

Don't you think Photoshop is a "tender mercy"? I do! This may seem like a rather frivolous thing to be grateful for. :) I am grateful for Photoshop just for how fun it is to play with and to learn how to design stuff with.

But I am grateful on a deeper level for it because it granted me a wish--to see all of my family in one photo together.

 

At Benjamin's birth in November 2007, we were so blessed to have many beautiful pictures taken, by my mom and also by Jaime, the nurse who attended us. However, one of my sons was not willing to come into the room. He said it was "too sad." This broke my heart. I tried and tried to convince him, reminding him this was his only chance to see his little brother in this life. He simply couldn't overcome his fear of the sadness.

So we never got that family picture I wanted so desperately.

 

Later I got an idea. I can't remember how exactly. (Was it from you, Becky?)

 

Last autumn we arranged for our sweet friend Sonja, who is a very talented photographer, to take family photos of us at the cemetary. We tried to time it just right for when the trees had the most brilliant colors. The picture we used for our Christmas card was one from this photo session.

I told her about my idea, and she was so sweet to work with it and make helpful suggestions.

Beforehand I studied pictures of me holding Benjamin and tried to memorize exactly how my hands were.

Then at the photo shoot I held a white blanket just the same way.

It was wonderful to have these special pictures taken at the peaceful place where Benjamin is buried, and at the time of year when we welcomed him into our family! It really felt like he was there with us!

Sonja was so awesome to give me a disk that very night, and I came home and immediately set about putting Benjamin into the pictures. I used Photoshop to "cut him out" of the pictures from his birth, and edited them as best I could to fit well in these new pictures. Then I moved him over! :)

 

And here is the shot that fulfilled my fervent wish:

That night I must have spent several hours putting Benjamin into these pictures. It felt SO GOOD to see us ALL TOGETHER!!!!! I just loved it!! I slept so well that night with those images in my head. It was sweet.

 

Andrea taught me how to put a photo on canvas, and I plan to do that with the picture of the whole family, and put it above our fireplace mantel. . . .

 

Heavenly Father is so good to us! He has sent us here to earth to pass through pain and difficulties so that we may learn and develop our spirits. Yet He doesn't just sit back and feel sad for us. He is right with us every step of the way, finding ways to show His love even in the midst of our sorrows.

To me this was one of His "tender mercies," to be able to "see" our family as it really is.

The Lord is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works.

                                                                                      ~Psalm 145:9