Tag Archives: faith

by | July 5, 2015 · 11:05 am

The Refiner’s Fire

“If there were no night, we would not appreciate the day, nor could we see the stars and the vastness of the heavens. We must partake of the bitter with the sweet. There is a divine purpose in the adversities we encounter every day. They prepare, they purge, they purify, and thus they bless.” James E. Faust

How true this is! I have come to have a great testimony of how true it is that we need adversity and trials to help us grow, to strengthen us spiritually and to give us a greater capacity for love and joy. The road however is not easy.

Our Darkest Hour

Beckett had been admitted for the long haul. We wouldn’t be going home until he received a transplant. He was still doing ok but each day was difficult. We didn’t know what his labs would show and it felt like each time we attempted to fix one problem, a couple more complications would happen in the process. It was stressful. Trying to stay on top of the information we were given each day became a chore. Usually I can comprehend what is being said and process it. But this all became too much.

I remember each day being told that his kidneys were getting worse. Each day we heard he may need dialysis but we weren’t quite there yet and we would keep a close eye on them. His peeing slowed way down. He wouldn’t drink anything. He was fussy and sad and his belly was so big. My heart would ache watching him but I still felt like he would be ok, even though we knew he was so sick. He had been granted 50 exception points. The highest I had ever actually seen was 52. So we knew he was not doing well. And then to top it off, he had been granted status 1B meaning he was at the top of the list and needed a transplant very soon. I still felt he would be fine.

Our ward family decided that they would fast for Beckett on June 7th. I also heard of so many friends and family that also decided on their own to pray and fast for my son. We felt such strength and encouragement that day. I felt the prayers, physically felt them engulfing me in strength and power. That Sunday was one I will never forget. Monday morning I headed up to the hospital to take care of Becks for the next couple days. I thought Shawn would be at work by the time that I got there but I was surprised to see him in the room. I came in happy and said hi and that’s when I saw Shawn’s face and my heart dropped. He was crying. He said, “We have some hard choices to make.”

We sat down and started talking. He told me of the conversation that he had with our doctor. She told him that even being status 1B there were quite a few other children ahead of him. We were told that kids can wait 2-3 months at a Status 1B and Beckett did not have that time. He was worse than we thought. I was devastated. I knew the reality of him passing away was something we might experience but this was the first time where it actually felt real. We could lose him. The team wanted to cross list him for an incompatible blood type. It would be risky but it could bump him higher on the list and his chances of getting a transplant sooner were much better. We both felt like we needed to do it. Anything to save our baby.

I was shattered. I felt my faith shaken really for the first time since we started all of this. Only the day before communities of people had come together to pray and fast in our behalf. And now we get this news? I did not understand. I tried to rationalize what was happening. Tried to process. And I was angry. I had been strong. I had faith that things would work out. But that’s not real faith is it? No. Faith is aligning our will to the Father’s and accepting the outcome even if it isn’t what we wanted. I prayed harder the next couple days than I have in a long time. At first I was just saying the words. “I want my son to live BUT IF NOT I will be ok.” But a peace came to me. I came to truly mean what I was saying. I was given a blessing from our bishop that I will never forget. Faith was a big part of the blessing. I have the faith. Now I just needed to focus on the Savior and let him be my light, my guide.

The Miracle 

Throughout the next couple days, I truly came to know that I would be ok if things did not happen the way that my soul desired. It would be devastating and it was the last thing I wanted but I WOULD be ok. I would. And as the week went on I cried less and celebrated more. Friday was my day of complete peace and then Saturday our miracle came. It came in the 11th hour. We were brought to the lowest of lows before the relief came. Before the light shone through and the weight was lifted. I now understand what the scriptures and prophets mean by “after the trial of your faith”.

When we found out that the liver was perfect for him, perfect size and it was his blood type, I was stunned. How? This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a miracle. A true blessing from a Father in Heaven who is aware of me and loves me. The morning after his transplant, all the doctors rounded to discuss Beckett and the plan for him. There were 32 people there- surgeons, transplant team, kidney doctors, liver doctors, pharmacists, nutritionists, PICU doctors, an ultrasound technician, our nurse and social worker. It was intense. The conversation lasted about 30 minutes as they went over everything about Beckett and consulted each other as to how they should proceed. Towards the end, someone asked us if we had any questions. I asked our surgeon, who was on the opposite side of the massive circle of people, about the size comparison between Becks old liver and the new one. He started to talk to us and as he did people broke off into small conversations of their own. Then the surgeon said, “I used to not believe this at all but after doing transplants for awhile now I truly believe it.” As he spoke all the conversations stopped and the room went silent. He continued, “I truly believe that organs find the recipients that they are MEANT to be with. There is no way that Beckett should have gotten this liver but it was meant for him. This liver is supposed to be his.” Shawn and I were in tears. To hear a surgeon speak so emphatically showed us yet again how much of a miracle we were witnessing.

The Refiner’s Fire

Malachi 3:3 And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver: and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.

“Out of the refiner’s fire can come a glorious deliverance. It can be a noble and lasting rebirth.” James E. Faust

We have been in the refiner’s fire. I guess you could say we are still in that fire. Each day is a new chance to decide how we will act, what path we will choose. Will we learn from what we are going through? Will we let it purify us and turn us into something greater than we were before? Or will we let it consume and destroy us?

I remember watching a video after Beckett was first diagnosed. I sobbed through the whole thing. In the video the woman said several things that have stuck with me to this day and I hope to carry them with me forever. She talked about Newton’s law. For every action there is an opposite and equal reaction. So the greater our sorrow, the greater our capacity for joy. I believe this. As odd as it sounds, our lives are so much brighter and happier now. Even before our miracle, I still had felt more joy than ever before in my life. It’s also given me a much greater understanding and empathy for others. We are not the first to go through a really hard trial. And we will not be the last. I want this refiner’s fire to help me be able to help others. To reach into the depths of despair and grab someone and say, “I have you. I know what you are feeling and I am here to help.”

We have been through the night. I have a greater understanding of the universe, of God’s greatness, of my Savior’s atonement. And now we see the dawn of a new day and it is beautiful. It’s more beautiful than ever before because we endured the pitch black of night. Our faith has been tried, our courage tested, our souls put through the fire. And we are emerging changed forever. Changed for the better.

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by | June 19, 2015 · 1:43 pm

Faith of a Child

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One evening 3 months ago we had just got the girls and our man cub settled into bed. Kim and I nestled in on the couch and started our nightly routine of, “what do you want to watch?” As we were scrolling through our Netflix list trying to make a decision Kim heard the unique sounds that only a child knows how to make coming from the stairs. She turned around from the couch to face the stairs to discover which of the two mobile children it could be. It was Addie. She had tears in her eyes. Kim noticed the tears immediately.

“Addie, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“I just want Jesus to come to our house.”

“You want Jesus to come to our house?”

“I just want Jesus to come to our house.”

I chimed in, “Addie, come down and talk to me sweetheart.”

Version 2She came quickly running down the stairs as if trying to escape a fire. I pulled her onto my lap and asked why she wanted Jesus to come to our house. She replied,  “I just really love Beckett. I want Jesus to come to help Beckett and Mommy feel better. I just want him to come to our house. “As the realization struck Kim and I of what Adalyn was saying and what she had been internalizing in her little mind, our eyes welled up with tears.

I didn’t know how to respond. I was speechless and felt stumped by my 4 year old. How do you tell your child that Jesus isn’t going to come to your house? He is not going to knock on our door and we are not going to get to see him. How do I explain this to her?

I wrapped my arms around her and I thought about it for a minute. I decided a prayer would be our best course of action. I asked her if we could say a prayer and she agreed. In that prayer I asked that Mommy and Beckett would be watched over by Jesus. That seemed to do the trick and Addie went back to bed.

I have pondered this experience countless times since it has happened. I have played it back in my mind over and over again. I think sometimes as adults we over complicate the simple and easy things. We poke fun of those who are innocent. We grown ups “know” too much when in reality we forget that the beauty is in the innocence of not knowing. We over analyze rather than seeing the situation or truth for what it is. We anticipate and make plans for the outcome or future without really having a knowledge of what the future has in store. At least I do. We (big people) draw a line in the sand between faith/hope and reality of life. To children this line does not exist.

IMG_1270As much as I prayed for a miracle that Beckett would get his transplant I did not exactly feel confident that he would get one. For a while the plan that God had for Beckett seemed unclear, uncertain, and often times completely non existent. My hope was diminishing quickly. I could honestly compare myself with the father in the New Testament who took his child to Jesus and said, “Lord I believe; help thou my unbelief.”  After watching Beckett’s miracle gift come together and looking back at all the moving pieces there is no doubt in my mind that God was at the helm the whole time. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was a true miracle and nothing short of a miracle. I feel ashamed for doubting. I am embarrassed by my lack of faith. I was trying so hard to be a father, protector and a provider that I completely overlooked the fact that I needed more than ever to become as a little child.

This afternoon Adalyn and Raemee are coming to visit their brother in hospital for the first time since his liver transplant. I can’t wait to squeeze them both and tell my oldest princess, “Guess what Addie? Jesus came and Beckett’s getting better!”

 

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by | February 3, 2015 · 6:21 am

I’m beginning to learn…

Life with Beckett has magnified anything and everything’s capacity to be difficult. Raising kids, marriage, faith, employment, and I won’t go into the personal interests that have been tossed out the window. It’s been frustrating and exhausting on all levels. Several people and friends have told Kim and I that we are amazing and they don’t know how we do it. Thank you but let’s take a time out. Don’t overlook the hard things that you have to deal with. Don’t discount your own trials because we have a sick kid. Fact of the matter is, life is down right ugly and dirty, ruthless, hard, and sometimes very unforgiving. That’s how it was intended to be for everyone. Not just the family with the sick kid. Yet, there is supposed to be great joy with all of this. Tunnel vision and focus on the hard things make it difficult to experience joy and learning.

At some point you have to accept that you cannot do it all. For example, what comes first, church or family? Wait for it, wait for it… Neither. God comes first. If you are building a relationship with Jesus Christ and our Father in Heaven then you know which things should take priority. When you know what God wants of you, there is no guilt. Guilt doesn’t come from God. God only motivates and invites you to become your best self. You cannot transform when feeling fear and guilt.

I strongly believe that your best self changes depending on the scenario you find yourself in. For the past two weeks I have come down with an anger problem. I have never been a very angry person. However, my behavior reflects my four year olds when it comes to me being frustrated and not getting what I personally want. It’s embarrassing and I’m ashamed but while discussing my feelings with Kim she said the following:

“Where there is a greater capacity of anger and emotion, there is a deeper capacity for happiness and love.”

So do I feel more anger now because I feel more love than I ever have in my life? I think so. My anger is now an expanded part of my emotional system because I care about my family, relationships, and people more than ever before.

Beckett’s turnaround to good health after the holiday season was nothing short of a miracle. It was a much needed answer to prayers to prayers that for a while I thought were not being heard. It was a tender mercy from heaven that touched our family’s spirits in so many ways. It was a sign that God lives and he is ready to help. He is a loving Father who knows how to help is children stretch themselves. About a week into our “healthy vacation” as I call it, Kim and I began having interesting feelings. Promptings that we shouldn’t get too comfortable. They have prepared us for the past two weeks as Beckett has spiraled steadily into a state that has his medical team and parents concerned.

This crazy train has been the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with. It has brought out the best and worst side of me. I have questioned my faith and I have doubted my doubts. There are a few things which are clearer than others. I have learned more than I ever would have without this trial, sometimes I am grateful for that and sometimes I’m not. Yet, the thing I feeling strongly about right now is I have to find a way to understand what it means to have a true relationship with God. Lip service and Sunday worship is not going to do it any longer. Past experience has taught me that when life decides to do its worst I am not strong enough on my own to do my best.

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by | January 1, 2015 · 10:17 am

“Look Not Behind Thee…”

It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. The Christmas tree lights are on. My babies are asleep in their beds, occasionally coughing. I text Shawn at the hospital. Happy New Year’s Eve. What a year this has been. What joy we’ve felt. What peace. And then what heartache, anger and frustration. I start to feel myself sinking. Sinking into sadness at the direction my life is taking.

I need the Spirit. I need my soul to be taught. I say a small prayer and act on the first thought that comes into my mind. I find a video about New Years. And my soul soars.

We had a hard year. We’ve been terrified. We’ve learned many medical terms that I wish I didn’t know. We know how to take care of NG tubes and PICC lines. We have watched our baby endure surgery, blood draws, and watched as his belly fills up with fluid only to get to the point where he is struggling to breathe and needs the fluid to be drained. 8 times now. 8 times in two months. We are watching him waste away. Watching as his spine sticks out more and more. Watching as his arms and legs and bum get skinnier and more saggy with just his skin. It’s hard. It breaks my heart.

We haven’t said anything yet but when we came into the hospital this last Monday, we found that his portal vein is clogged. This is the reason we can’t get his fluid buildup under control. His surgery worked. It worked! But there is this weird disconnect where his liver is able to drain the bile but the blood can’t circulate the way it needs to because of the clog in the portal vein and the scarring of his liver. This means that the fluid leaks out of the veins into his belly. There is no fix except through a transplant. So the decision was made to list Beckett for a transplant. We were relieved. Finally a reason for why he is still so sick. Finally a direction to go. And then reality hit. A transplant. He is not even five months old. He’s so little. He’s so scrawny. Now we’re moving to major surgery. And lots of waiting for an available liver that matches him. Knowing that he is going to get so much worse before he gets better. We could lose him. We haven’t had enough time with him. So much fear and anxiety.

I’ve had many moments of wanting to go back. Wanting to go back to the time when life was easy and perfect. When we didn’t know about liver disease. When I didn’t know heartache the way I know it now.

But I’ve made a choice. I am not Lot’s wife. (Genesis 19:17,26). I will not look back. “She doubted the Lord’s ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently, she thought that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as what she was leaving behind” (Jeffrey R. Holland ‘The Best is Yet to Be’).

As I watched the New Year’s video last night about Lot’s wife, I had a glimpse of my future. I saw vacations with my whole family. I saw laughter. I saw late night conversations. I saw a little boy running around with joy on his face. I saw a future missionary for our church. I’m never looking back. I’m never wishing away this life I have now. I’m never wishing away the person I am becoming nor the people I’ve met who have helped me and changed me. I know that this year is going to be hard and painful as we potentially will watch our son receive a transplant. We will have many scary days. Lots of time in the hospital. And yet, I know that the Lord has such amazing plans for my family, whatever form they come in.

Today is the first day of 2015, the first day of the rest of my life. The first day of the rest of all our lives. Stop looking back. Focus on the future. Because it’s bright. And shiny. And wonderful. And God loves us. He loves me. And He loves my son. IMG_7496

 

 

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by | December 24, 2014 · 2:03 pm

Life is Everything but Routine

“So, they drained between 400 and 500mls of fluid. We are going to have him stay the night and monitor the output of his fluid through the drain. We should have him home tomorrow.”

“Just another routine stay right Dr. Book?”

She stops, turns around, looks up at me and says, “There is no such thing as routine. Each one of these kids is special.”

IMG_01655 miserable days later Beckett and I still find ourselves in the hospital. It’s Christmas Eve. It’s the most magical time of year and it feels anything but magical. If there is one thing I have learned from this hospital stay is that life as we know it is anything but routine.

There is a 2 year old boy from St. George, UT with Pneumonia in the room next door. St. George is roughly 5 hours away from Salt Lake City where Primary Children’s Hospital is located. He has a 1 year old little brother at home. Both his parents are here trying to get him home before Christmas. All he has to do is drink liquid orally and they can go home. He doesn’t want to.

Down the hall there is the most precious little girl who is just under the age of two. She was born with one kidney and has fought through hospital stays her whole life. They found out earlier this week that she needs a kidney transplant. They have been able to stabilize everything except one of her levels. If it stabilizes then they can return home to Idaho for Christmas.

Then there is Beckett. This boy has taken me to the cliff and brought me back from the edge. Only because of how much I love him. In the past 3 months we have now stayed 29 days/nights in the hospital. This stay out of all of the others has been the most painful and excruciating for me. I believe Beckett feels the same way.

IMG_0185Kim and I felt strongly that we needed to bring him into the hospital last Friday. We knew something was not right since Beckett’s demeanor changed drastically over a 24 hour period. Since then, he has endured being drained twice, daily blood work, IVs, a picc line, multiple antibiotics, change in diet, hydrating oxygen tube, and a catheter. For 4 days he wouldn’t sleep more than 1 hour for every twelve hours in the day. His breathing was strained, he ran a fever, and the only way to console him was to push him around the hospital in a stroller. I have never seen him so worn down and uncomfortable. In the meantime, nurses and doctors confirmed that something was wrong but didn’t seem to know the right course of action. When trying to address one issue, it would create others.

As a parent you can imagine the fear and frustration. You can imagine the pain I felt for my child who was suffering. I was confused. I still am confused. Regardless, slowly the anger snuck in. “Fix him! Figure it out!” Beckett’s behavior started reminding me of a visit we made to one of our liver friends who was teetering on existence in this life and how uncomfortable and irritable she was. I began visualizing my future with Beckett. The horror struck as I realized that this will one day be my constant reality and that Becks is only going to get worse before he can get better. I was not prepared for this life lesson and rude awakening.

I was praying constantly. So many people reached out and mentioned that they were praying as well. Yet Beckett, wasn’t getting any better. I began to feel like I was not praying correctly. “Maybe I am not worthy of God’s miracles” I thought. Why is Beckett not getting better? My faith began to crack. Doubt crept in. I felt the only way to be able to fix him is if I do it on my own. Yet, I didn’t know where to start. I am not a doctor. All I have is limited knowledge that has accumulated over the past 3 months. I knew I was missing something and I didn’t know what. I couldn’t see the clear picture. I wanted to scream and throw things. I remember just wanting to break something. At the same time, I knew that none of my desired temper tantrums would help.

IMG_0176Pondering Beckett’s scenario and racking my brain trying to come up with what God is trying to teach me, I realized that these feelings apply in so many scenarios. Knowing that you need a new career but not knowing where to start or where to go. Being turned down interview after interview. Understanding if you don’t get a new job your family is in jeopardy. Or having a loved one struggle with addiction. Doesn’t matter what kind. They are all consuming and life threatening. How do you help them? What do you say? Why do they keep doing these things despite how much you fast and pray? The list goes on.

Life is everything but routine. There are no official manuals or how to books that say “Do this and your whole life will be perfect!” However, there is a source of self dependency and humility that is required in these terrible situations. If you are not humble enough to admit you do not know what to do, that you need Gods help, and if you are not willing to grab the reigns and do your part then nothing is going to get better. I strongly believe it’s ok to be afraid, angry, and doubtful. Those feelings are normal as long as they drive you in the right direction towards results and hope.

We finally found the right direction with Beckett. He slept through the night and we are restarting his feeds today after withholding them for 24 hours. There are many obstacles that lay in this warriors path, but we will take them as they come. For now, we will give him what he needs and keep hoping and praying for the Christmas miracle.

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by | December 13, 2014 · 2:15 am

Quit Missing the Miracles

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I am lounging on the corner of the hospital couch. Kim is fast asleep occupying most of the couch on my left. I can’t blame her. Being beautiful ain’t easy! Beckett is sleeping comfortably in his bed to my right. It’s the first time this week that he has slept more than an hour without waking up. The only light in the room is from the glow of monitors that are pumping fluids into Beckett’s body. Outside the closed door of our plainly painted hospital room is the nurses station. I can hear them chatting it up and laughing. I feel comfort knowing they are so close.

These hospital weeks are brutal. I thought they would get easier. The problem with them is the tension starts long before the hospital stay begins. We have always had appointments on Wednesdays with our liver doctor. Monday rolls around and your body begins to tighten with anticipation. On Tuesday your stomach is sick and your head is wanting to explode from all of the unknown and “what if” scenarios that have been racing through your brain. Wednesday, your heart beats outside your chest and you have a shortness of breath because you know something bad is going to happen.

IMG_0126This week for some reason has been unusually harder than others. The initial shock of Beckett’s liver disease has officially come and gone and now we are facing the bare bones reality of it all. I am feeling overwhelmed from the stressful/emotional roller coaster. From good news that Beckett’s Kasai surgery is working to bad news that Beckett has Portal Hypertension, which could cause him to need a transplant sooner even though his surgery is draining bile from his liver. Good news that Kim can start breastfeeding again to bad news 24 hours later that leads Kim to decide to stop breastfeeding entirely. Good news that “you’ll go home tomorrow” to bad news of “it will be three more days.” I watched our doctor drain 16.5oz of ascites fluid from Beckett’s abdomen. I have been covered in multiple ounces of throw up on several different occasions. Tomorrow I will learn how to stick a feeding tube up my sons nose and down his throat into his stomach.

It is not uncommon that when we are in the hospital we receive extremely encouraging words and support from friends and family. Most often these messages come via Facebook and Instagram. These notes of love keep us going and help us see the positive in all the negative. Today I received a text message from a friend that said:

“Just when all seems to be going right, challenges often come in multiple doses applied simultaneously. Those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more. He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding, and compassion, which polish you for your everlasting benefit.”— Richard G. Scott

IMG_7344 copyIf I step back a minute from liver disease, discussions of transplant timeframes, vomit, and feeding tubes I can count the blessings of all that is going right. I can see the growth that Kimmie and I have experienced. I can take pride in what I am doing and what I have learned. I can feel comfort and peace from the prayers of hundreds who are reciting Beckett’s name in personal and family communion with God. That is a miracle! I question. How many miracles have I glanced over because I have been selfish and not compassionate? Would this week have been better if I had opened my perception up to greater understanding? Have I disrupted my own spiritual growth pattern because I have chosen to be comfortable with my attitude and daily routine?

Tonight as I ponder how miserable my week has been, my feelings turn to gratitude for the reminder that I received today from a friend. I am grateful for why these hospital stays are hard. I take pride in understanding that my Father feels I am prepared and ready to grow. It’s not fun and it’s not something I wake up in the morning and look forward to. It’s hard. Growing pains are uncomfortable and unlocking true understanding is going to take some practice. It’s a challenge and I don’t know if it will ever get easy. What I do know is that I don’t want to miss the miracles that are taking place all around me.

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by | November 12, 2014 · 9:05 pm

Understanding the Universe

“In a very short period of time, our understanding of the universe changed forever… The immensity of the universe didn’t suddenly change, but our ability to see and understand this truth changed dramatically. And with that greater light, mankind was introduced to glorious vistas we had never before imagined.” – Dieter F. Uchtdorf

I have thought often the past few weeks on these words. I can relate to them. They tell my story. I see the value and meaning of life differently than I had ever seen or pictured it before. The veil over my face has been lifted to see a greater universe than I knew previously. I strangely feel the dark and sunny places of other individuals emotions and can relate to them. As much as my own experiences will allow me to of course.

Before Beckett’s diagnosis of Biliary Atresia, we had what I considered a great life. Kim and I found the chaotic rhythm for our family of 3 beautiful well mannered kids. Our marriage was thriving as we established weekly dates and activities together. I was starting to find the groove of my career after being promoted to a new position of visibility. Talk of insurance and financial planning was for “other” people. Adalyn and Raemee, our two oldest girls, have never had ear infections. No medical threats would ever happen to us. Life was as close to perfect as it could get.

IMG_3184The text message I received from Kim on that sunny Tuesday was the start of my eye opening experience that is now the life I live. Since that Tuesday, 35 days have past. In those thirty-five days, 17 of them to this day have been spent in the hospital. Puddles of tears have been shed, hard conversations have taken place, and ultimately God has provided me with a humbling blow to my core that has made me grow up in areas I have never wanted to. Nor did I know existed within me or my capacity. I think we have all experienced this to different degrees.

In the end I am grateful for the deeper capacity of gratitude, empathy, perspective, and emotion that I feel for others. It has enabled me to love. To see the universe for what it’s supposed to be. I have a changed soul and I can’t describe it. You can’t put words next to something like what I feel inside now that is so powerful. I can say that it runs deep, it’s consuming, and it requires me to take action.

I’m not grateful for what is happening to Beckett. I would never wish this on my son. Though he be a warrior, it’s not a fight I want him in so that I can learn a soul transforming lesson. However, I am grateful for the level of communication it has provided me. As I looked into Beckett’s eyes last night, I saw him. I saw the fear that exists inside him. That same fear I see on the faces of parents of sick kids in the hospital. The same look I see when I look in the mirror. I felt how tired he was from a week of being poked (5 different IVs and multiple blood draws), sedated (twice), and drained (the excessive fluid from his abdomen). I understood for a brief moment the exhaustion of being administered 6 different medications one after the other, or the toll that deep vomiting multiple times a day can take on a 3 month old body. When he wrapped his little fingers around my thumb, he was asking me to not leave him alone and I heard through his expression him say “I am trying dad!” For a second, time stopped and I was learning from my man cub. He has a mission to complete. A battle to fight. My son has a purpose and he knows it. We all do. Just like I love my son, our Father in Heaven loves us all. I understand now why “in the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land” (Matthew 27:45) and in the ninth hour “the earth did quake, and the rocks rent.” (Matthew 27:51) It wasn’t easy for the Son, and clearly it wasn’t easy for the Father, but they saw and were aware of the glorious vistas of the universe.

Beckett is a warrior. Even though he has already been through so much, his battlefield is going to get harder, scarier, and so much worse. In all of this there is a lot that will be asked of him. He will pay a steep price to gain the life he has waiting for him post liver transplant. I am so proud of him and through him I am finally seeing and understanding what life is really about. #loveyaBeckett

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by | October 26, 2014 · 8:30 am

Little Warrior

IMG_6708When we first started figuring out what was going on with Beckett, I posted a picture to Instagram about what we had experienced. I mentioned that Beckett was going about everything with such a happy demeanor and I called him my little warrior. I don’t know why that word popped in my head specifically instead of a more common word like fighter. But it came so clearly. He was a warrior. I’ve pondered a lot lately trying to figure out why that word was so important. As I was thinking about it last Wednesday, a story in The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ about the 2,000 stripling warriors came to mind. I decided to make that the object of my scripture study the next day.

It just so happened that Thursday, Shawn took Addie to preschool and Beckett took a long nap. We had a very quiet morning and I was able to spend some good time with my scriptures reading the story of the 2,000 stripling warriors and thinking about it. This story is about a group of people who after repenting of their wickedness, made a covenant with God that they would never take up arms again. Well war came upon them. Their brethren were fighting for them and they felt bad because they weren’t helping. They were about to take up arms and fight when their sons (who had NOT made the covenant) said that they would go to war for their fathers. As they fought, they were injured but NOT ONE of the 2,000 sons was killed in battle. What I learned from reading this story was amazing. It has changed the way I view our situation.

I started in Alma Chapter 53 and got to verses 20-21.

20 And they were all young men, and they were exceedingly valiant for courage, and also for strength and activity; but behold, this was not all—they were men who were true at all times in whatsoever thing they were entrusted…

21 Yea, they were men of truth and soberness, for they had been taught to keep the commandments of God and to walk uprightly before him.

Then I moved to Alma Chapter 56:46

46 For as I had ever called them my sons (for they were all of them very young) even so they said unto me: Father, behold our God is with us, and he will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth…

Here Helaman (their commander) is describing these young men. I felt so strongly in my core that this is Beckett. I believe that my little man is so courageous and is doing much better with this situation than either Shawn or I. It doesn’t matter that he is a two month old baby. I remember when he first smiled at us after his surgery. There was a look in his eyes. He had this. He was ok. It was like he was telling us that he was fine. His courage strengthens mine. And then I read that last line again, “Behold our God is with us, and he will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth.” How true this is. Our God is behind us. He will watch over us and protect us. Those 2,000 warriors knew that and they went forward in faith. Beckett is the same. He is so happy and trusting, even with the scary things that have happened to him.

I then moved on to Alma 56:47-48.

47 Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death… yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them.

 48 And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it.

Now I have read this story many times in my life. I have always thought of how amazing those mothers were. But reading it this time with Beckett in mind, it struck me so differently. I am now the mom of a warrior. This is me. This is my responsibility. And in order for me to teach my son, I need to believe this. And live it. Faith. It all comes down to faith. Their mothers instilled such faith in them that they were willing to go into battle. I want my son to be strong. I want him to be able to handle things with courage and with happiness no matter how bad things get. And in order for that to happen, I need to be the example. By this point I was in tears. I felt such a greater love for those mothers. I knew that I wanted to be just like them.

At this point in the story, these young men went to war. Alma 56:56 reads:

56 But behold, to my great joy, there had not one soul of them fallen to the earth; yea, and they had fought as if with the strength of God; yea, never were men known to have fought with such miraculous strength; and with such mighty power…

And then moved to Alma Chapter 57:21, 26-27.

21 Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea, and even according to their faith it was done unto them; and I did remember the words which they said unto me that their mothers had taught them.

26 And now, their preservation was astonishing to our whole army, yea, that they should be spared while there was a thousand of our brethren who were slain. And we do justly ascribe it to the miraculous power of God, because of their exceeding faith in that which they had been taught to believe—that there was a just God, and whosoever did not doubt, that they should be preserved by his marvelous power.

27 Now this was the faith of these of whom I have spoken; they are young, and their minds are firm, and they do put their trust in God continually.

I started to think of Beckett’s future. Oh how I wish this for him. He has already proved to be so strong but I pray that he can fight with the strength of God as he undergoes many challenges in his life. I know that he can have a wonderful life despite the health issues. I love that last verse because I can see my son in it. He is young. His mind is firm. And I can see him putting his trust in God for the rest of his life. I know God is there for him. Christ knows exactly what Beckett has been through and what he will endure. He knows it perfectly and is the perfect person to rely on through all this.

That’s not to say that we aren’t going to have hard days. We will. Probably a lot of them. We are going to struggle at times. But if we will trust, if we have faith in our Savior, we will conquer whatever comes our way.

I love my son. I love him so deeply that I will be strong for him. I will teach him what I know. I will teach him faith. We will make it through this together.

Written by: Kimber

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by | October 24, 2014 · 11:25 pm

Bicycle Therapy

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Now that we have been home from the hospital a few days and have had some time together as a family a few things were becoming very clear. First, the girls are getting extremely clingy and needing some love and attention from Kim and I. Second, as much hope and comfort as Kim and I feel, we spend far more time feeling pain and hollow. Third, I’m starting to feel cooped up at home and the take out/cafeteria food from the hospital is making itself comfortable in my abdominal region.

The girls were upstairs for quiet time so I asked Kim if I could escape for an hour. I quickly threw on my cycling kit, did a few necessary stretches and was out the door.

Getting on the bike had never felt so good. It had been weeks since my last ride and I was definitely having some withdrawals. I couldn’t exactly tell why at first. I thought it might be because of the warm air passing through my kit or the smells of the outdoors. It wasn’t until I approached a small hill that I recognized exactly why and what I was feeling deep inside. My first challenge. I stood up on my pedals and thrust my right heel into the ground and pulled up with my left knee and repeated one after another. I could feel my heart rate increase. The beating not only pounding in my chest but pulsating in my arms and head. I changed my grip on the handle bars to a firm grip and I was now pulling up on them with my upper body. During this beautiful moment of synergy I look down at the ground ahead of me to see my shadow. The realization hit me, “you are in control!”

Since Beckett was diagnosed with Biliary Atresia I hadn’t been in control of anything in my life. Everything was determined by Beckett’s needs and what the hospital nurses or doctors would say that we could do. On the bike I felt alive and free again. I knew that the pain I felt in my legs was self inflicted and was managed by my own desires. The pain wasn’t forced on me like the facts that Beckett will someday need a liver transplant and the life that we dreamed we/he would have will never be what we originally wanted for our son.

I get to the top of the small hill and sit back down on my seat. An overwhelming sense of freedom hits me followed by the same amount of emotions. I yearned to be in control of my sons fate. I wanted all the answers to questions that nobody could give me. I wanted our old life back. The one where all we worried about was what was for lunch and dinner that day. The one that didn’t require administering 3 kinds of prescriptions numerous times a day for the rest of our boys life.

For the remainder of my ride I pondered about the decision I needed to make. I could feel angry about the lack of control I have over life, or I could control what was controllable.

So for now, I will love my son. I will cherish every minute I have with him and be grateful for every day he is alive. I will put faith in God that the lifestyle that Beckett will have and timing of a transplant is in His hands. I will seek the best medical attention and rally my support group for prayers. I will voice the need to be an organ donor to as many people as my voice can reach. Once I am done, I will count my blessings and start over again. Wouldn’t you do the same?

Written by: Shawn

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by | October 19, 2014 · 2:30 pm

The Messenger

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We have been home from the hospital now for almost 24 hours. It’s an amazing feeling to be in the comfort of your own home. However, even though I am comforted by the familiarity, now that we are home, I feel heavy. My head hurts, it’s hard to breath, my stomach still feels sick, and my eyes just want to close. I’m pretty sure these are the side effects of being overwhelmed, scared, and completely weighed down from the pressures of life. As the hours pass by I gradually accept that these feelings are going to be my new way of life.

Kno, knoc, knock! Kimmie and I look at each other with a puzzled look. “Who could be at the door?” I thought. I open the door and recognize the mans face but I don’t know his name. He introduced himself and mentioned that he is a member of our ward (a ward is an group of members of our church defined in a specific area). He was holding a plate of cookies and I felt like I should invite him into our home. He came in and informed us that he was prompted to stop by yet had no idea what he was doing or why he was now sitting in our home. The next 15 minutes were filled with this man bearing testimony of the divinity of our Savior, Jesus Christ, the power of prayer, and even though we are scared of the unknown, God knows exactly what he is doing. He looked me in his eyes, called me his brother, and promised me that everything was going to be ok. The Spirit of God surrounded me like a warm hug and I knew what this man was telling me was true. I knew that God had sent this man as a servant to deliver a specific message for Kim and I.

The weight was immediately lifted and I could feel of Gods love for our family. I was suddenly ok and accepting of this new way of life. What an indescribable and marvelous feeling it is to have confidence that God is in your corner. I am not oblivious to the facts that the road ahead is going to be hard and will stretch me in ways that will hurt, but I am sure that we won’t be on this journey alone. Our Father in Heaven knows what his children need and with this knowledge I find peace knowing Beckett is in better hands than my own.

Written by: Shawn

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