Look at me – Look at us.                            December 23, 2017

Some members of Carter’s family have what they call the “look at me” gene. It’s fun for me to watch the ones who have it have so much fun in the limelight. I don’t have that. Carter doesn’t either. But looking back, as I still do sometimes, I can see that we started to exhibit  a little of that family trait a few months after Ashton died, in a different kind of way, and it lasted for a few years.

I believe it was a plea in an unconscious way saying, “Look at me (Please notice that this is hard for me)…Please help me…..I need help from you…I can’t handle this alone.” We were unknowingly reaching out in a big way because it was just too hard to bear by ourselves. Knowing that others knew seemed to help us.

We are in Salt Lake City, Utah for Jacob’s wedding. Candace’s family arrives tonight and then everyone will be here, together again for a week. We’ve all been in our own isolated world connected by instant messaging. What a blessing for that. We are soaking in the grandchildren and just met our new little Ashton last night. He is 3 months old with big brown eyes…..sweet and pure from heaven.

Coming out of Costco today, I saw raspberries in someone’s cart. Ashton’s favorite. It reminded me that it’s not so important this year that we have Ashton’s favorite things. What is important is that we are together.

Many people we meet on our mission….missionaries young and old, members, mission presidents… have a heartache of some kind. It seems that our focus has changed now to “look at us”. Look at all of us. Look at how many people struggle. Let’s help each other through them.

Counting Ashton – The Census in Peru             Sunday – October 22, 2017

Today was census day in Peru. Everyone is supposed to stay home from 8-5. No businesses are open. We got special permission along with the other leaders at the CCM to be here instead of our home.  The census workers came right when it was time for Sunday school, so we missed Sunday School and Priesthood/Relief Society meetings. They taught us how to fill out the census form and then we helped the missionaries fill theirs out.

One question on the form for women was, how many live births have you had? I wrote down 4. The next question was, how many are still living? I wasn’t expecting that.

One thing I have to say is that I always count Ashton. When I send an email to my children, I send it to him too, still. When I’m praying for my children, he gets prayed for too. When someone asks how many children I have, its always four. I always include him. I did have 4 live births. I do have 4 children. I always will.

Today I couldn’t count him. I had to write down the number 3 on that second question. It was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. The question was in Spanish and I had to ask Carter to be sure I read it right. We looked at each other, knowing what I needed to write. Carter didn’t know how hard that was for me then. I told him later. I pushed back the tears until we went back to the auditorium to help the missionaries fill out their forms. I rushed to the bathroom, thank goodness no one else was in there, because I needed to cry. I cried softly and prayed that I could have some help to feel peace again. I asked for Ashton to come help me. I don’t ask for him as much any more, but felt like I needed to. I had to be helping missionaries in a few minutes, a class to teach on Faith in Jesus Christ after lunch and I needed help. I blew my nose, wiped my eyes and went back in. It was good to feel peaceful again. I needed to cry. Glad I found a safe place to do it.

This is proof those sneaker waves still will come….even when writing that simple number 3.