Tripping as we go.....

The #1 challenge in blending our family is...................

Disciplining -or- raising our children with a united front.

It has been difficult to the extreme. However, on a scale of one to ten for what my husband and I have been through in this lifetime- it's probably ranked at a 4, and that's only because of the emotional fallout.

Parenting, even in a traditional household, comes with snares and pitfalls.  If you consider the fact that you have two individuals who are from separate homes and backgrounds, who in our culture are typically younger, then you throw in a few children and expect said individuals to raise those children in a healthy and loving environment- all the time....well.....it is possible, but not always perfect.  Now compound that with two individuals, who have been raising children in a relationship, while growing up together, and figuring out said snares and pitfalls and learning to raise children in step with one another; anticipating each other's needs- but then suddenly find themselves grieving, having to adjust to another relationship and new children (who have been raised with the same guiding principles, but with differing personalities)..........................there are bound to be a few:

To be quite frank the biggest mistake I made with my children was giving them everything after Stevie died in hoping that it would fix their broken hearts and assuage the guilt I felt for being the one left here, when Steve was so much more patient with our children and so much more adventurous. He was their joy and suddenly he was gone- so I gave, and gave and gave.  This did far more damage than any other mistake I may have made.  Rules that had always been hard and fast suddenly became negotiable and loose.  Strict adherence to principles that had always been in place became more than I could manage and the result has been 18 months of trying to reign in what was done in 6, following Steve's death.  I wish I could go back and undo what I've done, but as the saying goes, "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." So we live and learn,  I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that this scenario is probably more prevalent than parents in grieving households like to admit.  It is truly amazing how quickly our children adapt to new rules (or the lack thereof) and how quickly they become children that we don't even know sometimes.

Please don't misunderstand me, most days are a delightful walk down easy-peasy lane.  We allow one another to take the lead with said individual children.  He governs, and guides his, while I govern and guide mine.  It is bliss.  It is easy.  Sometimes it is lonely, but only when I've taken my youngest back into his bedroom for the fourth time in the same day and asked him to please treat others better, calm down, or stop using such thick sarcasm to which he replies, "Oh! Okay," with a massive eye roll.

This is not new to my life.  When parenting with my late husband, mealtime circus acts would occur often and would conclude with my firm and possibly loud plea to, "Please engage!!!" which was then followed by a child being plucked from his dinner chair and speedily taken into the other room. In short, parenting has never been a walk in the park 100% of the time.

In our current home it is complicated further by a house filled with healing hearts, several children at various stages of grief, teenagers working on figuring out their place in the world, parents figuring out their first year of marriage (AGAIN) and everything else that life throws at a typical family. Sometimes my heart yearns for the natural parenting that occurred when it was Steve and I. With a little bit of self-reflection the yearning comes from a place of familiarity, which came from having time to grow and figure it out together.  This is exactly what is happening now with Eric and me.

And so the question remains: how do we get on the same page?  How do we gently guide our children towards choices that will help them be successful adults, who understand their place in the world and appreciate all that they've been through; trials included?  I have to be honest here- there are days where I feel like my head will explode with the lack of responsible actions that are occurring and the selfish desires that are running rampant.  On the flip side there are days where I want to run to the highest mountain and proclaim my joy for the selfless service that I see and the gratitude that has been expressed freely. 

We've been counseled to let each other lead out with our separate broods of kids and it is what our current tactic has been.  What I appreciate more than anything else is that we don't keep secrets from each other.  We have found that life runs much more smoothly when we're fully aware of what's going on with our children- collectively.  We are attempting to become better at counseling together when any of our kids are struggling so that we can figure out the best possible solution- it also helps to keep the eyebrow raising to a minimum when we're fully aware of everything going on. 

So I guess my suggestions for parenting in blended families are these:

1. Recognize that it won't be rainbows and butterflies all the time. (There's nothing wrong with accepting that it will be challenge).

2. Put your marriage first.  This just means 100% honesty and transparency with any household issues/situations.

3. Love and pray for each others' kids until there is no degree of separating in your heart. 

4. Allow each other to lead out with your own children, and be supportive (in front of the kids) no matter what.  It's okay to disagree with parenting styles, but not in front of the family.

5. Take a step back as needed, and realize that everything worthwhile takes time.

Good luck with loving, praying for and guiding your families.  Hopefully someday soon we can look back on these moments with a sense of accomplishment for who our children have become.

Much love,

Kami

Nothing worthwhile......

is ever easy.

I have thought and rethought this post at least a bazillion times.  It never gets any easier. Tonight I'm just going to go for it and hope that it all makes sense.

Please keep in mind that I'm only speaking from my experiences and from what I've observed/heard, etc. 

When Eric and I decided to marry, we discussed at great length that we would have a combined SEVEN children.  His oldest is married and has two beautiful children of her own and a delightful husband.  They live in a surrounding state, but not close at hand- this makes blending a bit difficult, but not impossible.  Add into this a returned missionary turned college freshman, a future missionary who is working diligently to save money for her mission, a high school sophomore and my lot of boys and well......there is never an end to the stories to be told.

At first everyone was on their best behavior- even my lot whose ages range in the more immature realm.  We then slowly transitioned into summer chaos that was filled with fun family visits and adventures.  I'm not sure we ever got to a "normal" sense of our nuclear family, but I'm learning that normal is relative.

When the "kids" are all together it is fun for the most part of they all tend to divide out into their separate groupings when left for a lengths of time.  It happens naturally, as life events have been shared by some and not by all.  The immaturity that happens in youth tends to be a bit much for those with a bit more life experience and so drifting is the result.  I'm sure there are several psychological books that could be read as to how to force this- but that's just it....I don't want to force the kids to have a relationship with each other.  I would rather they choose that for themselves.  I have faith this will happen and with time it just may: I've seen glimpses of this and it brings me joy.

This brings me to my biggest fault- patience.  Agreeing to God's time in all things is easy when the road is simple ahead.  Taking a deep breath and allowing things to unfold is hard when you desperately love all parties involved and yearn for that connection.  I feel like I'm always tapping my toe in anticipation.

So we go through our days; trying.  Trying to get along.  Trying to let one another in.  Perhaps even trying to keep each other out.  It can be hard to know.

What I do know is this: everyone is trying to do and be the best they can in this situation for which no rules are written.  I can honestly say that I love each of the kids and adore the grand-kids that I get to call mine.  Time will tell how they chose to love each other, and for now that has to be enough. Unconditional love, prayer and patience is the key to all things worthwhile.

Always-
Kami

Finding Comfort

On March 21st, I remarried.  The man that I married had recently lost his wife to a terrible, degenerative disease called muscular sclerosis.  Their story is theirs to tell and so I will leave it be.  I will say that I married into a remarkable family with a strong legacy of love.

For the most part, our marriage has been met with great optimism and acceptance. There has been some lingering feelings that I feel are part of this journey that I feel are necessary to talk about.  I'll do my best to keep the tone of the this entry from becoming too heavy.

When Eric and I met I had no intention of marrying anyone.  In fact, during our first dinner together he looked so nervous and uncomfortable (more out of place) that I merely said to him, "Relax, it's not a job interview."  I was a bit wrong because that night turned out to be so much more.....

I had not forgotten Steve.  There were warring feelings of betrayal and guilt that kept circulating, but throughout it all came the feeling of correctness and comfort.  I chose to follow the more positive route, as I had already had 14 months of the darker one.  As the dates progressed and he came to see us more, as I went to where he lived- I realized one over-arching truth: when we were together it all felt so much better than when we were apart and he made me laugh.  Away from Eric the world was filled with teaching, masters programs, scouts, baseball, schedules, homework, dinner, cleaning, kiddos and very little joy.  I was lacking an intricate part of the whole scheme that made it work for me.

Not everyone is like me.  There are those people out there who function just fine and do so with grace, and strength- needing never to rely on another.  I applaud those who can do so with a smile.  What I found out about myself was that on the outside I was independent and perfectly capable, and on the inside I missed someone to share my life with.  Just because I could do it alone, didn't mean that this is what I had wanted.

And yet.......

Alone seemed to be the only answer if I was going to be true to my heart's desire to only yearn for Steve.  The human existence is such a tricky one.  I think Heavenly Father gave us two hands so that we could always be weighing at least two options.  On one hand: I would yearn forever for my Stevie and chose to never love again, and on the other hand I found myself entertaining the idea of loving someone else and seeing the world in living color once more.  How blessed to be given two choices.

I chose to open my heart.  This has caused some grief for others.

One thing that I wish people would remember when talking to, attempting to relate, or even wanting to engage in conversation with widows/widowers/survivors is: they are one person and the world is filled with people meaning well- who want to tell said person everything they are feeling, thinking or have thought about said persons current situation.  This can be so overwhelming to try to grief counsel, accept, listen to, entertain, or relate to what is coming from another person (times 100).  It is overwhelming and yet part of the process of grieving and also part of our journey here on earth: to mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort - whether or not it is your own grief they need comfort for.

Since Steve's passing I've become quite thick-skinned and have even stopped crying when others are crying over my situation, mostly because I am used to the feelings that overwhelm others and have taken many nights in the quiet to let out what most only deal with when they see me or Steve's family out and about.  Life without Steve has been my 24/7, while others are able to push it aside until they are reminded.

This brings me full circle to the title of this post: we must find comfort where we can in this life.  It has always been my prayer that comfort be found in the close relationship I have with my Heavenly Father, and with those who love me best.  Comfort has also been found in Eric and his sweet family. Our paths of grief are similar in the loss that we've felt, but so different and parallel in the path that has brought us to that loss.  The choice I made to love again, marry again, rebuild my shattered world, and find solace for our boys, was made with the full understanding that others might not understand.  It was a choice I stand firmly behind- and have not regretted for a moment.

With that being said: we are not all on the same path of healing over the loss of such a remarkable man.  It has been challenging at best for those who didn't live close and see the transformation of my family as our new life was beginning.  This is not to say that we don't still have moments of bittersweet memories and sorrow- that will never end.  There are still times when tears fall silently down faces for a time that is over- for now.  We can all only do the very best that we are doing to make this life as full as the one that was....before- this goes for everyone in our situation.

I am sorry for the hurt that continues.  My heart aches for those that don't understand.  I am sorry for the pain that has been caused.  However, when I look into the eyes of my boys at night as I ask them how they are and I see the joy that has so long been missing re-emerging: all is well.  This brings me great comfort in knowing that we all must be true to ourselves and to the legacy that has been left in our stewardship.  Such is mine, such is yours, and hopefully such is that we may all find comfort in the choices we have been given to make.

All my love- Kami

Combining Lives.......

On the day that my world shattered into obscurity, I found myself sitting on the floor of my closet feeling as though it would be impossible to ever love anyone else again.  In honor of true transparency, I must admit that it took me a good 10 years to love Stevie the way that he should have been loved all along- totally and completely.  I had a hard time believing that someone this good could really love someone like me.  We all have that view of ourselves- don't we? The one where we struggle to accept that, knowing all that we do about ourselves, it must be impossible to love someone so broken.
This was not the case for Steve and I remember clearly one night, after treatments, when I vowed to learn how to love him as unconditionally as he had always loved me.  6 short months later and he was gone.

In March, I married another special someone.  Having known love like I have with Steve- it made it easy to recognize that goodness and unselfish nature in another.  I still cannot fathom how lightening has struck twice in my life, but am thankful every day that it has.  It truly is a gift.

When we combine both of our families we have a total of 7 children, I am officially a grandmother, and I delight in the aspect of fully embracing completion again.

None of this is without small (relatively step-overable) hurdles.  One of which being- I want to talk about our late spouses quite a lot.  I want to ask questions about his sweet wife and I want to tell stories about Stevie and am never quite sure what's okay and what's not.  Do you want to know something equally nuts? I could just ask- but I don't.  Not yet.  By the time I actually publish this I will have had that conversation, but in this moment.....I don't know how to even begin.

So I wait for someone else to bring up stories, or to talk about it and then I feel comfortable listening.  I feel like I am not only the witness of Steve's life in our short 14 years together, but I'm also the keeper of her legacy as I am blessed to be able to see her children grow and discover their lives as adults.  It is an honor and one that I hold dear.

Meanwhile, I step around small landmines of what to say, what to do, how to make a whole life out of two full halves and how to help the hearts of those around me to heal.  Prayer and time...those are the only answers that I keep getting: prayer and time.  With that being said, I'm off to pack another box, tape it shut and somehow move this menagerie north to begin again in this whirlwind that is life.

All my love - Kami

Beginning Again......

In less than 48 hours I will be once again be a wife in this life.  I will no longer have to check the box that decides whether I am merely "single" or actually "widowed."  I will no longer be merely....me, again.

This all comes with beautifully mixed emotions.  That really is the point of this life, isn't it?  The experience of great pain and the rise of such joys.  I've felt quite a few of those in the past 5 years.  I've embraced them and am stronger for them.

The boys and I went to see the new Disney movie "Cinderella" yesterday.  A common quote throughout the movie was, "Have courage and be kind."  That resonated so deeply with me.  It's a whisper that I hear as I navigate through my own grief, my children's grief, my family's grief and even the joyous occasions.  Sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones that bring about the most joy and are the ones that require the most courage to make.

In less than 48 hours I believe I will once again wrap my arms around joy.  I've noticed that little by little the color that was drained from my existence at Steve's passing has slowly been swirling back in.  It hasn't been a rush all at once, but rather a gradual, quiet, oftentimes hard to discern movement much like ink being dropped into a glass of water or smoke swirling up from a lit flame.  Anything loud or sudden would have scared me back into the refuge of my sadness, Heavenly Father knew this and has sent the perfect antidote to my grief- he is patient, kind, silly, wise- he is strong, and most of all he is quiet in the way that he cares for me.  His kindness runs so parallel to the way that I've been loved before that it is comforting and peaceful.  I love him differently than I loved before and this is also comforting, as he reminds me constantly that neither of us is replacing- we are adding to and thus differences are necessary.

In less than 48 hours new beginnings will happen.  The boys are thrilled to be uncles and I am delighted to be a grandmother.  I don't imagine for a moment that it will always be smooth sailing, but then again- why not?  We both have champions on each side of heaven and Earth.  We both have walked through a refiners fire that books are written about.  We both have struggled and prayed, remained faithful and endured.

In the words of Cinderella's beautiful mother on the eve of our new beginning, my prayer as we all walk the path laid out for us by our loving Creator is that we will all "have courage and be kind," for that is the true mark of love and hope.

All my love,
Kami

Children and Closets.....

working through it all......

I'm getting married in less than a month to a wonderful man.  We both share the heartache of love and loss, and we both have remarkable families and friends that have supported us through it all.  We are counted among the lucky in this regard.

As the day get closer and closer to becoming a wife again, there are things that must be worked through.  One thing in particular was working through the process of letting go....again.

In the days, weeks and months that followed Steve's passing I found myself standing in the doorway of our walk-in closet, looking at the clothes that Steve used to give life to.  Two shirts in particular stood out under such scrutiny.  One is a blue and white button down that he wore the first time he took me out.  The second one is a red plaid button down that he wore in some of our fun engagement pictures and quite possibly every week since then until he passed away.  They spoke of memories, of happiness, of quiet moments tucked safely within his arms as tears soaked through to the skin.  Those clothes helped in being the keeper of Steve's memories for our family.

After a conversation with our Bishop today I realized that I was standing & moving.  That I had gone beyond just surviving.  I am living.  I am loving.  I am back.  When I said a heartfelt "Yes!" nearly two weeks ago, I chose life and love and happiness and new memories that are flavored by past joys. With this epiphany came the realization that I could not hold onto what was in hopes that it could once again be what is.  What is can have joy.  It can.  It does.  It is joyous.

At dinner I asked the boys what they thought about going through Dad's closet.  My oldest answered, "I'm ready."   My youngest said, "Me too!"  My second child merely looked back at me with wide eyes and slowly nodded.  I explained to them that they could have whatever they desired: ties, t-shirts, shoes, sweaters, anything- but to remember that these were merely things.  Their dad's love went beyond ties, t-shirts, shoes, sweaters and anything that was to be found in that closet.  We began with a prayer.  In it was the key to the peace that was found.

We knelt/sat down on the cream carpeting and began with the ties.  One by one their new owners claimed them.  Each tie brought about a new story of origin or use.  Each tie brought about a smile, or teary eyes.  We then moved onto the t-shirts.  Each boy collected 7 to 9 shirts to be used later in his own, unique quilt.  They then chose a couple of extra shirts to wear to bed if they wanted.  Then my oldest said, "The rest should go to dad's brothers if they want."  I gulped down the lump in my throat as each son nodded solemnly.  A text was sent out regarding such and we continued on through pajama pants, shorts, jeans, slacks, button downs, hoodies, shoes, belts. and all the items that make-up the wardrobe of a well loved man.

My favorite moments were when a shirt was pulled from the rack and stories tumbled out over the top of each other.  Each child remembering something different, or stories that overlapped in general idea but separate in details.  It was beautiful and healing.  It was exactly the right thing for this night.

Sitting in the corner of my room now are 5 large, black lawn bags.  Gazing back into the closet I realized something very profound.  In this life, Steve's things took up very little physical space. However, his life continues to consume vast eternities in my heart and the hearts of his children, family and friends.  It is remarkable how content he was to let me sprawl throughout the house of our dreams while he quietly rejoiced in the laughter of his children & the love of the Gospel; taking up very little space but leaving the largest of impacts.

It is because of his goodness and our shared life that I can love again.  It is because of the joy that I find in remembering the way he looked in each shirt in that closet and the twinkle in his eyes when they met mine that I am fearless in giving my newly healed heart to another.  What we have is eternal and I am secure in that knowledge.  I am also grateful for the patience and love of another who sees the need to work it through and understands the value of the process.

Children and closets- typically incomparable, but tonight both very good for this soul.

All my love,
Kami

There is no timeline.....

not in life and not on grief.
I've found myself over the past few months running towards happiness with wild abandon. Occasionally I trip myself up with over-thinking and concern for what the community, who loves our family, might think.  When I find myself so completely lost in what I think other's might be thinking- I have found that taking a moment to pause and reflect saves me from myself.
When Steve and I met in July, 1999; it was easy.  The conversations were quick, hilarious, and we were drawn towards one another by a desire to know more about life and love.  He and I quickly became an 'us' and 5 short months later, we were married.  The next chapter of our life was spent learning about each other.  Likes, dislikes, pathways to happiness and histories of sadness.  We learned so very much about what it takes to care for someone else, and to put another's joy above our own.
We also moved.....and moved........and moved.......had children......and moved.
Our last move together brought us to where I am now.
The boys and I are nestled in a lovely community, where we've been loved, and protected and prayed for time and again.  We have grown stronger, and with that strength the longing for what might have been becomes less sharp.  Instead, I've found myself longing for joy-memories-happiness, again.
There are those who would say that finding someone, falling love, and risking hurt is too great a price to pay.  That a year must pass before healing has taken place.  There are still others who think that to love again means that you love less the one before.  I emphatically disagree.
When I made the choice to move forward, I did it in a way that I believe Steve would be proud: head back, arms wide, completely.
I recall a conversation that he and I had shortly after cancer treatments had begun. In this conversation we talked about what he should do- if I didn't survive the treatment or the cancer.  It was decided that our boys needed a mother and as such he should find someone (preferably a nice someone) to marry.  This someone would need to shine, to have joy, and to fill our children's days with laughter.  He reassured me that he would never need to find another because I would be fine.  He was correct in this. However, he then told me quite clearly that should something ever happen to him that I was to find someone to serve as an example to our boys.  A righteous priesthood holder who loved to laugh, could find it in them to love the boys (even when they were grumpy trolls) and who loved the Lord.  The thought took my breath away and at first I denied the need for this conversation.  However, in his wisdom- he made me promise him that this would be the goal; and I agreed.
Such wisdom is a comfort now to me.  I feel that I have been given the gift of acceptance by my eternal companion to find another to love and share my life with.  In this gift is an assurance that my heart is safely bound to his and that in the view of everlasting light- there is the promise of forever with him.  There is also the agreement that I would not have to navigate the rest of this existence without someone physically by my side to lift me, strengthen me, and help me to raise our boys.  The timeline of searching, finding, and progressing towards that lifetime belongs to no one but myself.
The timeline of grief and desire to live beyond that- belongs to no one but those who walk that path.
Please recognize that grief is different for every person.  That the loss of a spouse comes in all forms and all stories.  My grief will not align perfectly with yours, and that's okay.  It is this remarkable ability to be separate in the process, but united in hope for better days to come, that makes this experience so rich and full of growth.
I choose life.  I choose to live and to find happiness in this life again; secure in the knowledge that this is okay; because I've been told so.  May you find the happiness that you're seeking as well and that you're a bit kinder with applying timelines to others rather than seeking to enjoy yours.
All my love,
Kami

Moving Forward......

By Taking Baby Steps.

I recently went on a date.  It seems a bit silly to even use the word "date," but that's what happened. To add to the silliness- I really liked it.  We met at a public location, ate dinner, and then walked around the Gilbert Temple grounds here in Arizona.  It was awkward, and nice, and lovely, and made me smile quite a bit.  I liked the whole evening very much.

I realized a couple of things as I've had time to reflect on this process:
1. I'm not moving on, I'm moving forward and
2. I'm still here.

For the longest time I would find myself coming home each day to love my children, and rejoice in their joy while struggling to find joy in the life I was living.  What a waste I was making of the life I'd been asked to live.  What a gift it was to wake up in the morning, to breathe in and out, to have a job where I work with people I enjoy and youth who kept me thinking! What a gift I have been given to know love the way I do- and to be able to recognize it when I see its beginnings and feel it begin again.

The small snapshots of time when I feel guilty for laughing with someone else, or wanting to share my day's stories with another person have started drifting into oblivion.  I realize each day that Steve loved this life, loved the opportunities given and even rejoiced in the trials that had to be overcome. Why should I do anything less?  There have been moments when I have worried about what others would think.  I've come to realize that there is no timeline on grief, or even on life.  We are each asked to do our very best and one day I woke up no longer satisfied with being alone, and missing having someone to share this life with.  It was then that the last remnants of the fog lifted and have not come back.

So, I'm not moving on.  To move on makes it sound like I'm leaving this life that I've built.  That I've packed it away never to be looked at again- but that's not it.  I am part of this life that we've built together.  All that I am and will be has been touched, shaped and created by the experiences that have brought me to this point.  You don't just leave that behind.  Instead it is lovingly placed in the quiet of your heart to be taken out and reflected upon when new joys come and new trials appear.  So I have it tucked away in a special place and am moving forward with it securely placed forever in my heart.

                                                                                                                           www.realfeelproductions.com

Last of all- I'm still here.  On October 8th, 2013, you could have placed me alongside my sweet husband and I would have been perfectly content to be done with the next sunrise.  It was as though my spirit had lost the will to fight for the life's experience still yet to come.  In the past 6 months that spirit has stretched, yawned and zipped back into existence and I've realized what everyone around me has known all along- I didn't die.  Instead I took a step back, reevaluated my purpose and place in this life and have now recognized the job at hand.  I have to live so that my sons will understand the legacy they are; and know that they are never alone in this life.  Neither am I, and neither are you.

The next few posts will probably bring some growing pains and tentative movements beyond baby steps, to toddler steps to possibly even running towards embracing this life again.  As that happens, I'll share with you the 'hows' and possibly even the 'whys' though the 'whens' are still hard to determine as each soul much work through finding their purposes at different moments in time.

All my love,
Kami