The Heart Healing {Chapter 4}

This is the final chapter of my heart story - at least for now...

A week passed and life started up again full throttle. All summer we had been preparing for something new - homeschool to start in the fall. The Lord had placed this desire, this mandate so to speak, upon my heart earlier this spring and countless hours had been spent researching and planning and preparing for the start of this new adventure. 

With such a busy summer I knew I would need to rest after having the baby so I would be refreshed and revitalized when school commenced. But life rarely goes according to plan - it's a lesson I keep learning again and again. And the week I had penciled in my planner - the week Patrick had off work - I planned to rest. I had visions of snuggling my new baby boy, getting to know him, napping - just slow, gentle time easing our family into this new season.

But the "heartbreak" happened and the restful week turned into a testing week. We were exhausted, but still we plunged on - charged with the energy of what seemed a second chance at life.

So, with my heart on the mend, the children were ready and anxious to begin school, and before I knew it, we were thrown back into life. The zest of excitement in teaching my children, the magic sparkle of embarking on a learning adventure with them every day was rich and soul-satisfying. I felt I had stepped into a fairy tale. Motherhood took on new layers of depth and meaning I never before knew existed. My heart swelled with a joy so complete that I almost forgot about my heart complications.

And yet, in the midst of all this goodness, there was a nagging inside me. It was a small feeling of unease but I couldn't decipher what it was trying to tell me. Not until last weekend, when I came down with a cold, did the small feeling turn into a small voice...I needed to process the trauma I had been through. I stumbled upon Ann Voskamp's most recent blog post and the hot tears that coursed down my cheeks as I read about her daughter's recent heart surgery made me realize I hadn't journaled about my experience fully. You see, there's a danger in moving too quickly from the wake of a storm back to regular life. We need time. Time to process the lessons as we heal. Otherwise, the lessons are lost. The Master Sculptor is ever trying to shape us into beautiful works of art. But if we don't take the time to learn from our trials, our sculpting process is slowed or halted altogether. Yes, there was more to be discovered from my Peripartum Cardiomyopathy and it could only be found in the stillness.

And like He always does, the Lord provided a way for me to do just that. To my delighted suprise, my sweet grandparents called me up and offered to take my three older children for a visit to their house. They came on Tuesday, and with the flexibility of school at home, my children left with their backpacks bulging and ear-to-ear grins on their faces. I was alone with my baby and it was time to go within.

I opened my rose-gold planner-journal to a clean, smooth sheet and titled it: "Heart Pondering." For the next several hours, my pen flew across the page as the words flowed through my mind.

I started with questions: "My heart was breaking and it hurt to breathe. Why was it breaking? Why was it beating so slowly? Why was it enlarged? Why was there excess fluid around my heart and lungs?"

And as I pondered there, the answers came. Perhaps I had been packing away too much "unnecessary fluid" in the forms of criticism and judgments toward myself and others, and the ever-alluring path of perfectionism. Perhaps on a mental and emotional level, this lack of love had slowed my heart down.

On a physical level, perhaps I had asked my heart to do too much. With all good intentions, I had planned to rest during this pregnancy, but instead I increased my pace with moving to the Middle House, planning homeschool, and living out family vacations. I had over-sacrificed myself throughout the pregnancy and despite the fact that I had promised myself I would slow down and take it easy, I sped up.

And when the heart problems came, they forced me to slow down and come to a complete halt as I lay there in the emergency room feeling so close to death. All I wanted was my family. All I cared about was my family. And all I wanted was to be healed so I could go home and hold them once more. Nothing else mattered. Life felt altogether so overwhelmingly beautiful and so achingly fragile. 

And while the lessons from that fateful night were so poignant and my perspective had shifted permanently, I realized that my actions had not. Soon after the trauma I was right back to where I had started - over-sacrificing and not taking enough time for myself to rest and recharge.

I determined the lessons would not be lost on me. 

"Listen to the beat of your own heart. Listen to what it's telling you, to the rhythm it wants you to keep. Listen to the bravery of your beats -- believe that your heart is pounding together something new. This is how He made a heart to work. Listen to this and rest. The way to recover is to cover everything with grace." -Ann Voskamp

This grace? This love? It's the antidote to every heartbreak on earth. It was the love of my Savior through words of scripture. Love of my husband and love for my children that I held onto for dear life. Love of family and friends through their charitable service and those heavenly angels that are just across the veil. I was mended back together in that broken place by Love.

And now it's time to love my heart back to wholeness. I will love my Savior stronger than I ever have before. He will be my anchor and my rock. I will love myself better through the continual gift of stillness and self-compasision. I will love my family with kind words and kisses, gratitude and grace, shared memories and lots of listening. I will love my friends and my enemies with just a little bit more service, just a few more prayers in their behalf. I will love my life by leaving the "path of perfectionism" to pursue the "art of excellence."

Because in the end? Love is all that matters. Love binds up our hearts, binds us to Christ, and binds us together. Yes, it is true. Overwhelming love is the prescription to all our heart afflictions and it's this love that will keep our hearts beating strong.

The Heart Healing {Chapter 3}

Ann Voskamp described it this way:

"You must surrender to a breaking that must happen if you want any of your brokenness to heal.

"I hadn't known this or felt this -- but I have now and I cannot forget.

"And this is a harder thing -- You have to trust that the breaking of your heart will heal you into a kind of stronger."

The morning dawned bright and beautiful after that eventful night in the Emergency Room, but the pain was still there. I hoped for answers as we took our newborn son to the doctor for his 5-day old check-up.

Our little boy looked wonderful, but my doctor was concerned about me. After reviewing the cat scan from the night before, he gave me the diagnosis: Peripartum Cardiomyopathy. It's a rare form of heart failure induced by pregnancy. My symptoms of pitting edema, chest pain, stabbing back pain, and shortness of breath all checked out with the results from the scan. My heart was slightly enlarged and there was fluid around my lungs and heart. In effect, my heart was backed up with all the exertion of trying to eliminate the excess fluid. But it couldn't keep up and had subsequently slowed down. He ordered more blood tests, prescribed medication, and sent me to a bigger hospital for an echocardiogram.

And so the week progressed. Tests and more tests. More anxiety. More worry. "Even though you're in recovery, you're still in pain. This can happen. And somehow you still have to keep breathing through the ache."

But through it all my Savior was there - to lift me up and strengthen me to meet the demands. We marveled at the tender mercies He was showering upon us day after day. Tender mercies like how my case was mild - it did not result in cardiac arrest or more severe complications. Tender mercies like how Patrick was able to take a whole week off work to take care of me and the children and drive me around to all my doctor's appointments. Tender mercies like prayers and calls and texts from sweet family and friends. Tender mercies like sweet sisters from my Relief Society bringing us meals each night. After each taxing day in the hospital we would return to a warm, home-cooked meal made with love and pure, Christlike charity. Indeed, the Lord never forgets us in these dire moments of need. We need only to notice.

By the end of the week, my body was healing. I lost fifteen pounds of fluid which eased the excruciating pain in my back and chest. My heart gradually picked up its pace and returned to a normal rate. I could finally sleep because I could finally settle into my bed and get comfortable.

It seemed my heart was on the mend and I knelt, weeping, before my Maker in praise and thanksgiving. Gratitude that He had sent me early warning signs to signal something was amiss. Gratitude that I had listened. Gratitude that there was no clot and no cardiac arrest. Gratitude that my doctor had answers and treatments for my condition. Gratitude for sparing my life and most of all, gratitude for my family and the promise of eternity.

Our hearts break many times as we journey through life. I know mine has. And I don't know what you are facing in your life story right now. I don't know how your heart is breaking - may it be physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. But I can promise you this. There is a purpose. And it will be sorted out in the end. And when your heart finally heals, it will be even stronger than before, because it will be stitched back together with the threads of grace by the Master Healer. 

My heart healing story? I thought it was over. I thought I was healed. But in the week to follow, I would learn even more about what it takes to mend a broken heart and how God leads us forward, ever forward, to the place He wants us to be...

To be continued...

{Chapter 4 coming soon}

The Heart Healing {Chapter 2}

I couldn't ignore it any longer - that pain in my chest. Each breath felt like a knife stabbing right in the center of my back. Perhaps most disconcerting of all was the slow thrum of my heart - as if giant hands were holding it tight and each beat was trying desperately to break free. It felt like it would drop out of my chest at any moment. Just feeling that slow, pounding drop of my heart beat after beat sent a wave of nausea over me. I don't do well when I think about blood.

The pain had been my companion since just after the birth, but it had gradually worsened over the two short days since coming home. I felt for my pulse. Could it really be ticking this slow? Lightheaded as I stood up, I carried my baby into my husband and told him my symptoms. I asked him to check my pulse. He's a physical therapist - I knew he'd know what to do.

The concern in his eyes betrayed his voice as he told me my heart rate was only 37 beats per minute.

Just the thought that my heart was not working properly sent me into a wave of panic. I remembered how the hospital monitors beeped a warning every time my vitals were checked. My heart rate was low then, but now it was even lower and physically palpable. I couldn't get my mind to think of anything else except the pain. And the ever-present nagging that something wasn't quite right.

So I tried to rest as the hours ticked by. But the pain persisted. By 11:00 that night, Patrick started worrying that my symptoms were pointing towards a possible blood clot in my lung. He consulted with his uncle, a PA, and then made a decision. "We're taking you to the Emergency Room," he said with urgent soberness.

But how could we leave when our little ones were asleep in their beds? What would we do with our baby? I thought about calling my sweet friend, but knew she has four little children of her own and I didn't want to wake her. We tried calling several kind neighbors, but to no avail. Everyone was either asleep or out of town. I contemplated calling my parents, but I knew they would have a long drive ahead of them. We were getting frantic. I mustered the courage and called my dear friend. I prayed she would answer.

Hearing her sweet voice made me choke up with relief and gratitude and all the worry spilled out as I asked her if she could come sit with our children while we were gone. There have been few times in my life when I have ever been so grateful for true friendship.

Patrick had called ahead to the hospital so they were waiting for us. I was poked and hooked up to all kinds of machines and for a few minutes I was calm knowing everything would be all right. I would soon be taken care of. But then the waiting began...waiting for blood results which came back too astronomical to be accurate...waiting for the cat scan...waiting for the second set of blood results...and the cat scan results...It was amidst all this waiting in that cold, sterile room that I think my panic attack began. Tears poured uncontrollably down my cheeks. You could have cut through the silence with a knife. The clock wouldn't move and I couldn't stop hyperventilating. And why was I so cold? They brought me a blanket but the shivering continued. Why could I not get warm? If it was a blood clot, it could be fatal. I wondered if I was going to die.

The white board on the wall, displaying the care team and treatment measures had not been erased from the previous patient. I couldn't stop staring at the words on the bottom of the board: "Going Home." I assumed this section was meant to be filled with a time of discharge, but I couldn't help wondering which "home" I would be returning to that night.

Thoughts like that only made my blood pressure skyrocket. If my health condition didn't kill me, my anxiety surely could.  I tried to think of my sweet family to get my mind off the stress, but each memory was haunting. Flashes of my children played before my eyes like scenes on a movie screen. I saw them playing and dancing, their laughter echoing through the corridors of my mind. Would I ever get to see them again? My heart sunk - in the rush of getting to the ER, I hadn't kissed their sleeping faces. What if I never had the chance to say goodbye? I called my husband over and squeezed his hand. "If something happens, will you please tell the children that I love them? I didn't get to say goodbye." We were both crying at this point.

"Everything is going to be okay. You will be fine," but his voice was shaky.

"I know," I cried, "But what if something happens? I had to ask you -- just in case."

Ann Voskamp once said, "And the people who love you, right in the midst of the aching? They will need to be brave. (Sometimes the greatest courage is to trust enough to let go.) They will need to hope that miracles can make a home right inside of broken people. They will need to believe that broken things can become new things.)"

He placed his hands on my head and gave me a blessing. I felt the peace enter the room, but my heart just wouldn't accept it. Every single thought would lead me to remember my children and each memory broke my heart in pieces wondering if I would be granted the opportunity to continue to raise them. All I wanted was to go home and play with them once more - to wrap my arms around them and hold them tighter than I ever had before.

Finally, when I felt I couldn't take it anymore, my mind caught hold of one glimmer of hope - my mother's example. I remembered back to when she had her thoracotomy - those long agonizing nights in the hospital when she nearly died. But instead of giving in to the despair, she reached over with the little strength she had, picked up her cell phone, and called her sister. She could barely talk, but she managed to ask her if she could read to her from the Book of Mormon. It was the middle of the night, but my aunt stayed up for hours, reading chapter after chapter of the scriptures. I remembered when my mom later told me this, how I felt her faith, and the power of the word of God.

And when my mind caught hold upon this thought, I knew this would be the only thing that would bring me peace - that would calm my state of panic. Days later I would find this quote for the first time and it would ring true: "The best kind of intensive care for a broken heart is to let the words of Christ intensively care for you...If you let His Word wash your wounds, let His grace caress your pain, let His Truth touch your bruises, let His hope heal your ache, you can feel a kind of resurrection on earth. His promises are more than true - they are your resuscitation."

With tears blurring my vision and threatening to overtake me, I looked to Patrick: "Would you read to me from the Book of Mormon?"

He read from 3 Nephi - when our Savior, Jesus Christ ministers to the Nephites, heals their afflictions, and blesses the children.

As I listened, I could feel the tension leave and my body relax. The beautiful words drifted through my mind and I clung to each one like a lifeline tossed out to a drowning sailor. I silently prayed that my life would be spared and that I might have the opportunity to continue to raise my three precious children and my new baby boy. I pleaded that the Lord would allow me to stay. I just wasn't ready to go Home yet.

As I prayed, I felt angels nearby and I pleaded that they would surround my sweet children as I could not be with them at this time. The calm washed over me like a gentle summer wave. I finally felt a semblance of peace. It was going to be okay.

Finally the doctor came in with the news - there was no blood clot and everything looked good. He didn't know why my heart rate was so slow or why it was hurting so badly, so he ordered a Holter monitor for me to pick up the next day - one that would track my heart.

With tears of gratitude swelling in my eyes, we walked out of the hospital that night with assuaged fears, but nagging doubts. I was ever so grateful my life had been spared, but still I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The ache was still there, the heartbeat still slow and thrumming so painfully. My body was trying to tell me something, but what I didn't know. 

But even with all the unanswered questions my perspective had shifted and light flowed into the broken cracks of my heart. I was going home and no matter what the morrow held, my Heavenly Father's mercy had rescued me on the darkest night of my life. I would never be the same.

"It's okay to let the tears come, to weep over all this pain, all this love, all this beauty, all this brokenness and the hard roads that we somehow find ourselves walking, forcing one step in front of the other...Turn to the window and wait for the sun to rise, to keep always rising. Never stop being surprised that it does, never get over the miracle that you get to see it."

 

To be continued...

{Chapter 3 coming soon}

The Heart Healing {Chapter 1}

My heart was hurting. Deep inside my chest, I felt a heavyweight pounding with each slow, strained heartbeat -- as completely confusing as it was altogether disturbing. Pressing my fingers into my wrist, I felt for my pulse.

Something was wrong.

But it hadn't started out that way.

Just three days prior I was counting minutes between contractions instead of number of heartbeats. My mother recorded the minutes on a sticky note as I talked to her on the phone, pacing my bedroom.

I wondered if I should go in to the hospital. She thought yes, but I wasn't convinced. This pain felt different than the last pregnancies, just a dull, uncomfortable ache in my abdomen that wouldn't go away.

But the odd contractions continued and I could barely walk. After a few more hours, Patrick came home from work and picked me up. It was time to go.

I told the nurses it might just be a waste of a visit, coming in when I wasn't in excruciating pain. But a check revealed that I was indeed progressing in labor so the doctor was called.

After the initial procedures and epidural, the doctor and nurses left the room, explaining that maybe in an hour I would be ready. But just fifty minutes later, I felt a plunging drop of my heart and a wave of nausea came over me. We called for the nurse and she said it was time.

The labor was more laborious this time around. Each push left me utterly drained and exhausted. But thankfully, less than twenty minutes later, and with a last-minute turning from posterior to anterior, our little baby boy made his grand entrance into this world.

He was glorious, so fresh from heaven and angelic. I held him close and I'll never forget how he curled right up, so content. This skin-to-skin contact had been recommended by the doctor, but our little one was so content, he just snuggled into me and wouldn't breathe consistently. It wasn't until after I asked the nurses to take him to check his APGAR score that he finally started to cry and turn a healthy rosy pink.

But oh the rapture I felt during our hospital stay. Everything was perfect. The instantaneous love for this precious boy came just as suddenly and powerfully as it had for his brothers and sister before him. I studied every feature of his perfect face and marveled over the exquisite details of his tiny body. I breathed in his newborn scent and wondered at the sweet nobility of his spirit.

The next day the children came and met their new baby brother. They were absolutely smitten. My oldest son, who usually isn't too interested in baby events like this lit up like a candle when he held him. His dimples were glowing at the peaks of his genuine smile.

My second son exuded a peaceful calm as he tenderly placed his head on his baby brother and gave him the gentlest of snuggles.

Then my daughter was given a turn and tears brimmed up in my eyes at the sound of her sweet, angelic voice singing her new best friend the most beautiful lullabies I've ever heard.

How could my mama heart be any fuller? Nothing could compare to the love I witnessed that day.

And nothing could prepare me enough for the trials I would face in the coming few days. But one thing's for certain. As the battle ensued, I would cling to this memory with all of my heart...

To be continued...

{Chapter 2 coming soon}

The Christ-Centered Home

With the celebration of Mother's Day yesterday, it's natural for mothers to enter this new week wondering where to go next. With cards and flowers, breakfasts in bed and little homemade gifts, our hearts are renewed to continue strong in our mothering journeys. And yet, we desire to be just a little bit better; we long to make a greater difference in our children's lives. We fully realize our role as homemakers is to be the heart of the home and create an atmosphere of love, peace, and refuge for our families. And yet, does it ever feel a bit daunting when we consider just how to accomplish this?

May I suggest a little book that might help?

"The Christ-Centered Home" by Emily Belle Freeman


I have dearly loved every book by Emily Freeman, but this one is my new favorite. With her gift of weaving stories and ideas into practical life lessons, Emily invites us on a 12-month journey to center our homes on our Savior, Jesus Christ.

In addition to inspirational stories and scriptures, each chapter includes journal questions for introspection and a lesson to teach our families (complete with a conversation, a connection activity, and a celebration treat to make together).

This book came at just the right time for me - in this transition phase of renting a little home while building our farmhouse. I've been searching for a way to unite my family and provide some sort of stability for them in this bit of upheaval. My answer is clear - I must create a Christ-centered home. Because it is only through Him that we will find the peace and stability we all seek in this ever-changing world with its continual trials. As I've taken the time to read, my cup has been filled with joy and resolve to reclaim my position as homemaker and home-changer. I hope that throughout this year, my family will feel a noticeable shift in the atmosphere of our home and by next Mother's Day, our hearts will be knit together in Christ.

Perhaps one of my favorite quotes from the book is this:


This is how I feel every. single. day. I feel to rejoice with all my heart for all of the ordinary and spectacular miracles He grants me each day. The tender mercies never stop raining down upon me, and the more I notice them, the more I find. Heaven has not forgotten me and heaven has not forgotten you. I hope that with the start of this new week you will feel how very much your Heavenly Father loves you and your family. He wants you to succeed and receive all the glorious blessings He has prepared for you. And if you seek for His grace, you will surely find it.

With love for all of you,

Your friend,
Jamie

Everyday Moments

On a little Spring Break getaway this last week, I was able to finish a book I have been savoring for the past little while. It's called, Everyday Moments - Discovering Christ in the Details of Motherhood by Jessica Poe.

Jessica and I have been blogging friends for a long while now and I have been so excited for the release of her new book. Today, I wanted to post a short book review and feature a few of her amazing quotes.

Jessica writes: "To find the extraordinary spiritual side of my ordinary life, I have to swap my thoughts with His." When I read these words, my interest was instantly piqued and I wondered how I could learn this lovely art of seeing the spiritual side of motherhood. Thankfully, the rest of her book models for us how to do just that. Jessica's ability as a master storyteller is captivating. It's her ordinary, yet magical stories that draw me in and teach me how to elevate my own mundane and even frustrating moments to profound spiritual symbols.

Along these lines, one of the most empowering parts of her book is that it's a workbook and not just an inspiring read. The chapters end with thought-provoking questions and challenges that help us take the messages and put them into practice.

Jessica has even included a complimentary study guide (that I was privileged to help create) that goes hand in hand with the book chapters. (You can download the study guide here.)

For me, reading Jessica's words was like sitting down with a good friend and letting her stories, (which were so similar to my own), wrap me up with a blanket of comfort.

With poignant words, she teaches us where to go with the deep questions of our hearts:

"...I feel [that little girl inside of me] when my questions seem beyond my capacity, and I wish someone would just hand me the answer. Deep down I know I need to pray more and talk less. I know I need to trust more and worry less. I know I need to seek Him--and seeking takes time, effort, and heart. But when I'm tired, confused, and flustered, I just want to know now. Here's the thing, though: on the heavy-weight questions--the ones that can transform lives here and through eternity--it doesn't matter how many people hand me the answer. None of their answers matter. Only the all-knowing, all-loving, perfect One can provide the answer to settle my soul. He sends the answer, and He is the answer. Maybe that is what I really need to say to...that girl within me."

Lacing stories and experiences throughout the pages, she teaches us how to treasure the little moments of our lives:

"I want to thank Him for bubbles in the puddle, for mile-high stacks of stuffed animals, for crayon love notes, and for rich soil etched into the bottom of rain boots. It's time to notice little things with a big, grateful heart."

But most of all, Jessica teaches us how to take these moments and see them with new eyes. Through her wisdom, I've been given a paradigm shift, a higher vision, and a holy purpose to this challenging role of motherhood. Everyday Moments is not just a book with a few tips and tricks to a more meaningful motherhood--it's an invitation to a deeper, richer, holier way of life.

If you know of a mother who could use some extra encouragement and a fresh dose of hope, this book would make the perfect Mother's Day gift. It's a treasure, and I feel so blessed to have learned how to discover Christ in the details of motherhood.

Secrets to a Heartfelt Valentine's Day

Is there a way to elevate Valentine's Day from one of high expectations and disappointment to one of meaningful, heartfelt memories?

I've experimented over the last nine years to find the secret formula for the perfect Valentine's Day. These 5 simple tips below are the essence of what I have found.

1. Give Love. First and foremost, change your focus from "getting love" on Valentine's Day to "giving love." This tip is the single most important thing I can offer you.

It will change your world.

Dream up all the ways you can make this day magical for your family, friends, and loved ones, and watch your heart expand and open. This one simple shift in thinking will allow you to receive more love than you can possibly imagine.

2. Celebrate YOUR Family. I could easily call this tip, "Don't compare," but I don't like the negative statement. Instead of allowing yourself to get caught up in all the ways your friends, neighbors, and social media photos celebrate Valentine's Day, be unique. Be authentic and create your Valentine's Day in a way that brings you and your family joy. It doesn't matter how anyone else is celebrating. Honestly take stock of what is important and meaningful to you and cut out the rest guilt-free. This tip is vitally important as you read the rest of my tips. I offer our family's celebrations as mere ideas. Please don't feel like you have to do or be like me. Just be YOU.

3.  Simplify Traditions & Decor. Not all the loving plans and gifts we dream up will be realistic or even feasible. Hone your list of dreams to the very most meaningful ways you can make Valentine's Day special.

{Our simple Valentine's Day celebrations include gifting the children a bowl of candy and chocolates when they wake up, along with a new book or two that I have recorded reading to them so they can listen anytime they would like. My husband and I take turns planning our evening date for after the children go to sleep.

My Valentine's decor is very simple, yet lovely. I fill my red glass basket that belonged to my grandmother with Valentine's chocolates, and place an empty chocolates box on the table. This empty box is sometimes filled with love notes that we write to each other. This year I am on the lookout for when my children are kind and serve one another. I write it on a little heart and place it in the box. On Valentine's Day I will assign one of the children to be Cupid, and they will get to pass out the hearts to those who did the service. I hang on my shelves a simple banner of 5 vintage Valentine's cards on red & white striped twine. And the final touch for me is a big bouquet of fresh flowers. This is the icing on the cake for me...my flowers have yet to arrive this year, but I will be posting a photo on Instagram when they come if you follow me there.}




4. Create a Heartwarming Meal. Now, this meal doesn't have to be fancy or glamorous or even homemade. Plan a meal that will bring you joy (and not much stress). If our holidays are so consumed with busyness, they lose their sparkle and cease to be a joy and delight. Make your menu, then don't second-guess yourself. If a night out at a special restaurant would be more joyful to your family than hours in the kitchen, don't hesitate. But if you prefer a gourmet feast with all the trimmings, follow your heart. There is no right way to create a heartwarming meal. The key is to make sure whatever you do is heartwarming to you and those you love.

{For breakfast we are trying out a new tradition of a special Valentine's cereal bar where the children get to create their own bowl of "cereal love" (Rice Crispies topped with heart-shaped marshmallows, tiny dehydrated marshmallows, and sprinkles). Dinnertime always involves hearts of some kind. Some years we make a heart-shaped pizza, but usually, we have heart pancakes.

This year the menu will be: heart-shaped pancakes topped with strawberry or raspberry jam & a dollop of whipping cream, along with cherry pomegranate juice, bacon, eggs, raspberry pretzel salad, and chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert.}

5. Let this holiday be a pattern for your life...

Day 27: I'll Love You Forever

Do you know this book? It was one of my very favorites growing up. I'll never forget the sound of my mother's voice as she read it to us.

And now I read it to my own children and feel so blessed. These children we have been given are truly the greatest treasures.

Traditions bind the generations together.

Do you have a sweet and simple memory you are making a tradition with your own children?

Day 23: Never Grow Up

Fridays=family time and so on this Friday, I can't help but think of my sweet family and all that they mean to me. I have three children ages 8, almost 7, and almost 4. Truly, they are a bundle of delight. I don't know how I got so lucky to receive these three special gifts from my Father in Heaven. Their personalities amaze me and their valiance leaves me in awe.

But I have a problem. You see, no matter how hard I try, they keep growing up.

The change is almost imperceptible in the days, but when you look back at a picture or video from even just a year ago, the change is drastic. I hardly notice it happening, but it happens in the blink of an eye.

My mother used to give me "stay-little pills" and I just recently heard from my Grandfather that he used to give my mother "stay-little pills." Apparently, they don't work, because I keep trying them on my own children to no avail.

In my mind, I know they need to grow up and experience all the beauty that life has to offer. I want them to have all the joy I have. But still my heart cries out, "Please, just never grow up!"

With each passing day, they bring me more and more joy. Their personalities are emerging and blossoming in such delightful ways. Every year brings me blessings unimaginable. So naturally, I love to see them grow up and learn new things and become this wonderfully unique and capable little human being. But at the very same time, I want to cradle their faces in my hands and freeze time just exactly as it is now. {Don't even get me started on the heart-wrenching feelings that emerge when I look at their little toddler pictures...}

Oh this growing up business is not for the faint of heart. It's ever so bittersweet as a mother.

Maybe tomorrow, sweet children, you can grow older...but not today.

Stay little...just for today...



{To view this print in my shop click here.}

Day 22: Moments

Do you have a collection? I collected many things growing up--stamps, teddy bears, dalmatians, bookmarks, and tea pots to name a few. I was a collector.

I still am. But my main collection now is that of memories. I love the moments that make up my cherished memories. I collect moments through photos, journaling, writing, and video recording. And my favorite moments to collect are family memories.

I kept a family blog from 2008-2015 and now I have a special print instagram account for family memories. These I print into books so I can always treasure the words and photos from our family's memories.

My other favorite thing to do is record my children on video. I record the big moments and the small moments and those in-between. Then in the fall time I pull out all the recordings and make one short movie for every month that recaps our memories through video and music. On New Year's I give them to my family and we curl up together to watch them.

Material things get old, break, become outdated. But moments? They are priceless. They're worth more than all the money in the world.

Truly, memories, and the moments from which they are made, will live on forever.

How do you collect moments? Please comment below...

{And to view this print in my shop click here.}

Day 20: Speak Love

One of the most beautiful hymns from the Children's Songbook is "Love is Spoken Here." The lyrics are so timeless and empowering. They have become a motto for me--a vision of what I want our home to look and feel like:

I see my other kneeling with our family each day.
I hear the words she whispers as she bows her head to pray.
Her plea to the Father quiets all my fears,
And I am thankful love is spoken here.

Mine is a home where every hour is blessed by the strength of priesthood power,
With father and mother leading the way
Teaching me how to trust and obey;
And the things they teach our crystal clear,
For love is spoken here.

I can often feel the Savior near
When love is spoken here.

(words and music by Janice Kapp Perry)


We all make mistakes and there are times when the words in our homes are not very loving or kind. But I believe with all my heart that one person can make a difference. One mother, one father, or one child can change the very atmosphere of the home by committing to this practice of speaking love. How would your home feel if you were the one who made that difference? How would your love ripple outwards, lifting the attitude and actions of all present in your home?

Might you commit to try for just one day to only speak love?

Our homes can become the heavens on earth as we embrace this practice with all our hearts.


{To view this print in my shop, click here}

Day 10: My Heart

This quote was requested from a sweet mother who won my giveaway a few weeks back and I just love it so much. There is never a shortage of love in your heart. With each new child (or grandchild or niece or nephew) added to a family, your heart just increases its capacity to love. It's amazing really. And I think it's part of our divinity as mothers...

We just returned home from a lovely weekend with family, canning homemade applesauce, relaxing, and birthday partying. My hands are so full with my children at this stage in their lives but my heart is fuller still--with love and gratitude and warmth and memories. My children are my greatest treasures on earth and I am who I am because of the person they've helped me become.

{To view this print in my shop, click here}

5 Things I Wish I'd Known as a New Mom

A sweet friend who is expecting her third child wrote me the other day asking for any advice or tips I have for transitioning from two to three children. So to my dear friend, and to anyone else who has asked the same question, this message is for you.

This post, though, can apply to any mother--whether you have one child or 10 children. I wish I would have known these things with my first child, or my second, or my third. But now I do, and I'm so grateful for what I've learned.

I can't say I have any great wisdom or surefire secrets, but I can offer a few little ideas from my own experience, and perhaps they will help you too. So take a deep breath, relax, and read on.

1. Before anything else, know this: You are cut out for motherhood and for mothering the three sweet children you have been sent. The very fact that you have been entrusted with this stewardship is a declaration that with the Lord's help, you can do it. He trusts you, so trust yourself. And when the whispering doubts creep into your mind, dissolve them with positive thoughts and faith in Jesus Christ.
2. Your heart always has room. Just because you only have two hands and you think you're outnumbered with three children, your heart never gets too full. Yet, even though your love augments naturally, your time does not. So take just a few minutes to spend with each child individually. Maybe your daughter wants to have a tea party with you. Sit down for a few minutes and eat the pretend sprinkle cookies. Maybe your son just walked through the door from school and needs a little cuddle or a listening ear to hear all about his day. Do your hobbies with them and help them with theirs. It doesn't need to be much or fancy, because as you set aside this heart time for your children in whatever way you choose, you will feel that your time is sufficient.
3. Every routine is perfect--for now. It used to bother me that my daily routine changed almost every month as my new baby required adjusted feeding schedules and nap times. I wondered why I could never get it right. Then I realized that there is no "right" schedule. Whatever routine you create is perfect--for now. And in a few weeks or a few months, a new routine will emerge and that one will be perfect too. Go with the flow and trust that every time your schedule needs to be changed up, you will find another perfect rhythm.
4. Your children need YOU--not your Pinterest boards. Do you ever see every gourmet recipe, every natural homemade cleaner, every math activity, every art project, every creative home decor project and wonder how these women do it all?? They don't. The mother you see baking the decadent desserts may not do intricate preschool lessons with her children. The mother who embraces complex art projects may not have an immaculately clean home. You see, we have this perception problem--thinking that we have to compile all these pins and become this wholly perfect mother. It's simply not true. We give and take. And our children love us for what WE offer. So choose what you love and bring your children into your circle. If you love to read, read to and with your children. Make up stories and act out skits. But maybe that's not your thing. If you love to bake, create lovely snacks and let your children help you in the kitchen or play with play-doh while you cook. If you love to watercolor, let your children paint their own masterpieces right alongside you. Don't do anything out of guilt--only love. This is the secret to contentment in motherhood.
5. Nourish yourself. If there is anything I have learned it is this: you have to fill up your own well in order to give water to others. So don't let your well run dry. Fill it daily with the things that nourish your body, mind, and soul. Spiritual anchors like prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance will connect you to heaven and fill you with the Spirit. Physical habits like exercise that you love, drinking plenty of water, eating healthy foods, and getting enough sleep are pretty much non-negotiable. When I do these things I feel strong and confident. When I don't, my life suffers. Other practices such as meditation, continual learning, gratitude, and taking a break to spend time doing the things you love will help your mind and emotions stay fit. Customize your life-giving practices to fit you and your lifestyle and then put these things in your schedule so they happen. If practiced consistently, these anchors will make the biggest difference in your mothering abilities.

I hope you know you are treasured by your Heavenly Father for the calling you have accepted to be a mother. And you are amazing! If you don't believe, just pray for Father's acceptance and you shall surely find.

What wisdom have you mothers gained as you have raised your children? What do you wish you would have known earlier on? I'd love to learn from you!

Never Ask "WHAT'S FOR DINNER" Again!

Thanks everyone who joined me for my live periscope broadcast today! If you are not familiar with periscope, it's super easy! Just download the free periscope app on your phone, register your account, and then follow me--my username is: JamieInTheStillness. The fun thing about periscope, is that if you are watching live, you can comment and ask questions so it is very interactive and engaging. I'd love for you to join me on my next periscope episode. I post to Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook before I go live, so follow me there to stay updated on when my next periscope will be.

If you missed today's, don't worry! You can watch the replay for 48 hours on the periscope app or you can watch it here on Youtube.

Today's broadcast features easy meal planning tips so you never have to ask "What's for Dinner Again!"

Enjoy and Happy Thursday!
P.S. If you have an idea for a periscope video that you would like me to do, send me an email at writinginthestillness@gmail.com
P.P.S. Here is the link to the recipe box I promised you. :)

Elsie's Rescue.

Just a few weeks ago, the youth in our stake piled on school buses and traveled the long way to the barren plains of Wyoming to undergo a pioneer trek experience. If you are not familiar with the Mormon pioneers, in a nutshell, these faithful people sacrificed everything they had to come to Zion in Utah. Some of the pioneers of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came from England and Denmark and traveled by handcart, and two of these handcart companies (the Martin and Willie company) suffered extreme privation in crossing the plains during early winter storms. Every year thousands of youth visit the sites of the Martin and Willie handcart companies in present-day Wyoming to dress up as pioneers, reenact parts of the pioneer trek, and feel the faith of these heroic saints.

There were many lessons I learned on trek. I recorded 9 of them in my journal on the long bus ride home. Today I want to focus on the one I call, "Elsie's Rescue."

It was the last day of the trek and everyone knew it would be our hardest. The first two days we had walked 6 miles a day, but the last day would be 15. Even more nerve-racking than knowing we would have to pull our handcarts over the 15-mile stretch called Rocky Ridge, was the secret assignment my husband and I had been given to reenact the story of a pioneer couple, Jens and Elsie Nielson.

Jens and Elsie had emigrated from Denmark and were wealthy enough that they could have acquired a wagon and traveled comfortably to Salt Lake City. But in an action of true Christian charity, they decided to travel by handcart and donated the rest of their money to the Church. Their sacrifice paid the way for 9 other people to travel across the plains.

As part of the Willie company, they were stranded in Wyoming when the winter storms hit in early October. On the day the company parceled out their last rations, express rescuers were seen on the eminence to the west. But it would be several days before they would meet up with the rescue party wagons and receive more food, clothing, and blankets. First, they had to cross Rocky Ridge.

From start to finish, the trek over Rocky Ridge which stretched about 15 miles and took the Willie company 27 hours to complete. It was bitter cold with howling winds and blizzard snows.

As Jens and Elsie climbed over Rocky Ridge, Jens became too ill with exhaustion and illness to continue. He told Elsie to leave him and take the children the rest of the way. But Elsie would not hear of it. She told him to get in the cart and ride. And with that, this tiny woman (who was only 98 lbs.) pulled her husband (220 lbs.) over the ridge.

As the story was told to our youth group on the upper monument of Rocky Ridge, they were told to watch a reenactment. Patrick and I were on a hill a ways away and upon signal, Patrick got in the handcart and I proceeded to pull him down the hill. As I descended, I breathed many prayers for strength and miracles and somehow the cart did not overpower me. But as I started uphill, I hit rocky ledges and then a spot of sand. I knew I would need to run just to make any progress up the steep hill, so I tried to keep the momentum of the cart going. But when the sandy patch came, my feet lost traction, and in an instant the cart overpowered me, began to roll downhill, and swept my feet from under me, dragging me down. I hit my face and chin hard on the ground as I fell.

As the card slid downhill, I tried to get up and start pulling again, but instantly, Patrick was out of the cart and by my side helping me pull. I was crying by now, not because I was hurt, but because I had failed. All I wanted was to go farther. Through my tears I told Patrick to get back in the cart, but he refused to leave me. As we continued up the hill together, I brushed my face with my hand and found it covered in dirt. My mouth was full of sand. Then I saw a drop of blood fall and used my other hand to wipe under my chin, only to find it covered in blood. By this time, a group of young men came to our aid and helped us pull the cart the rest of the way up the hill.

After I had been cleaned and bandaged, we were asked to share our feelings with the youth. The following is a summary of what I recounted:

I have always felt too small, too weak, and too inadequate. But this experience taught me differently, although not in the way I expected. I thought I would make it farther up the hill before I couldn't go on. I thought maybe I'd be given superhuman strength or ministering angels to assist me. I thought I would prove to myself that I can do hard things and that I'm stronger than I think I am if I trust in my Heavenly Father. I thought He might send me a miracle. But that's not what I learned.

I learned that when we don't think we can do it or feel completely inadequate, it's at that very moment  that we can instantly receive our Savior's help. When I kept telling Patrick to get back in the cart because I could do it, he refused, saying, "No! I won't leave you!" Likewise, when we reach our mortal limit and cry out to the Lord for strength, the Savior comes running to our rescue--not to give us more strength, but to stand beside us and help us pull. And when we pridefully say, "No, I can do it," He whispers firmly but ever so lovingly, "No! I'm not going to leave you." He doesn't just give us strength, He is our strength.

The Savior Himself promised:

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

Real life demands of us roles that sometimes fill too big and too hard to fulfill. And in the midst of living out our assignments, we often reach a point where we can't go any farther on our own. But at that very moment when we cry out to Heavenly Father, He will rescue us with His all-powerful strength and grace. This I know.

The hardest calling I've ever been asked to fulfill is to be a mother and raise my precious children unto the Lord. Every day I climb Rocky Ridge, pulling my handcart behind me. And every day I reach a point where I can't possibly do any more on my own. It is then that I cry out and ask for my Savior to help me "pull my cart." He always does. I faithfully declare that I know I will go far in raising my family, not because I am strong, but because He is.

I want to end with a promise given to us from an apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ:

"For those who are discouraged by their circumstances and are therefore tempted to feel they cannot serve the Lord this day, I make you two promises. Hard as things seem today, they will be better in the next day if you choose to serve the Lord this day with your whole heart. Your circumstances may not be improved in all the ways which you desire. But you will have been given  new strength to carry your burdens and new confidence that when your burdens become too heavy, the Lord, whom you have served, will carry what you cannot. He knows how. He prepared long ago. He suffered your infirmities and your sorrows when He was in the flesh so that He would know how to succor you." -President Henry B. Eyring