A BLOG FOR MY ANCESTORS: happiness

A few years ago, I asked my grandmother Helen Marie Goulé Smith what it felt like to almost be 100 years old. She replied with a chuckle and a twinkle in her eye, "Darling, I feel trapped sometimes. I still feel 20 years old inside. I feel like a young person inside a body that doesn't seem like mine anymore." Even though I know she was trying to find humor and connect with me as a younger person, her response terrified me. Aging is something that I have been rumbling with lately, especially as I have watched my parents age.

Helen boating in California, 1940's

Recently I visited my grandmother, Helen in the retirement home where she lives. As a family, we had celebrated her 100th birthday just days earlier. When I entered her room I saw that she was sleeping perpendicular on her bed with her legs hanging off the side. It was around 3:00 pm and too early for bedtime. When I first glanced into her dark bedroom and saw her laying this way, my stomach dropped. I thought she had passed away. She had collapsed onto the bed while her favorite Hawaiian music played loudly from her stereo. I turned the volume down and went over to stir her. I breathed a sigh of relief when she moved, smiled, and then closed her eyes again. We laughed about how she was laying on the bed the wrong way and I helped move her feet around and under the covers. Then she said in her grandmotherly way, "Everything will be alright, darling! Everything is going to be OK."

I crawled in next to her and spooned my sweet, frail grandma. I could hear her crying softly, but since her back was to me I could not see her face. This position allowed me to let my own tears flow freely and which to my surprise came so quickly and abundantly. As I laid there I wondered if she was sad because she missed grandpa or if she was frustrated from being caught between earth and heaven. She was sleeping more and the moments she was alert and cognitive required more of an effort. I am sure that her aging body was aching and that she was in pain. Then I wondered about my tears. I knew that I was mourning with her and I felt of her loneliness. She missed grandpa dearly. I missed him also. However, I think that I was also crying about the whole aging thing!

Helen and Harold Smith on their wedding day.

Growing old can be obviously painful and lonely at times. Yet, there is no way to stop the process so I have done a lot of soul searching lately on the subject. Our culture and the media seem to celebrate youthfulness in such a way that there tends to be some shame associated with looking older. As people mature into their 40's, it seems that society immediately looks for and discusses any physical signs of aging. Oftentimes a person's wisdom or life experiences are hardly ever mentioned or valued until their eulogy is written. I wish our society valued wisdom more than beauty.

I would like to grow old gracefully and I believe obtaining wisdom is part of that process. Otherwise one just becomes a wrinkled teenager. A person can grow older and not become wise. I believe wisdom is gained when a person continues learning while remaining humble and self-reflective.

While organizing and unpacking some boxes, I found a photo of my Grandmother Helen. It was taken by my daughter, McKenna when she was just 14 years old. She titled it, Beauty is Wisdom and entered it in a photo contest at school.

"Beauty is Wisdom" by McKenna Petty. The subject of her photo is her 95 year old great grandmother, Helen Smith.

I looked closely at the photo and my grandmother's face and how her wrinkles hugged her smile and wrapped around her bright eyes and I saw joy. I remember when the photo was taken in our front yard at the little Orem house. McKenna got up close to her great-grandma's face that day and started snapping away. While she took these photos, she told her how beautiful she was and lovely her skin was and how she wanted to show others what wisdom meant. Grandma was flattered and joyful and we all smiled in the sun together on that fall day just five years ago. My daughter appreciated how her grandmother's face had changed over time because she recognized the knowledge that she had gained in the process of aging. McKenna knew through family stories and time spent together, that her grandmother valued education and chose to study nursing before marrying grandpa.

Helen Goule, Nursing School Graduation Photo 1937

She had also heard the stories of about how Grandma Helen, as a young mother in the 1940's, worked night shifts at the hospital so that she could be with her children during the day while grandpa worked as an Electrician. McKenna knew in detail how Helen felt about and coped with the polio diagnosis of her small daughter, my mother Penney. Throughout our lives we have all heard our grandmother wisely say, "Don't worry, be happy!" as she has faithfully lived her life.

Penney Smith, polio survivor with her mother, Helen G. Smith

The morning after I found McKenna's photo of my grandmother and had been reminiscing about her 100 year long life, I came across the beautiful, heartfelt story of a mother who was gracefully preparing to die after battling cancer for two years. She was in her forties and ached for more time in her life. Her husband wrote of their life together and their faith and their family and it all brought tears to my eyes.

Seeing my grandmother's photo, pondering her life, and then reading this dying woman's story all in the same morning had a powerful effect on me. It made me think deeply about my feelings regarding aging and my lack of excitement about wrinkles, etc. I felt extremely humbled as I had this strong realization that growing old is luxury not afforded to many. And then I felt grateful because I felt a little wiser.

Grandma and Grandpa living it up on their Catalina Island Honeymoon, 1937

Grandpa and Grandma Smith loved life and were always up for an adventure!

12:26 PM
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Gratitude

adversity

We have a special tradition in our family that begins around my youngest daughter's birthday during the first week of November. It continues throughout the holidays and has expanded to include my dear husband, son-in-law, grandparents, and other extended family members. It is our family's Gratitude Journal. It sits on the mantel or dining room table where it is always available to the family. I started the tradition of writing in it quite a few years ago. At the time, I was a single, working mother. The holidays were around the corner, along with seemingly endless challenges and I soon found myself in a dark place

I was in the midst of wallowing. It was deep and muddy wallowing full of painful emotions and financial burdens. I was reeling from the effects of betrayal, abuse, messy divorce proceedings, and I was chin-high in bills and financial obligations that were left behind as a result of it all. My children were in the thick of it with me. It was painful to see them suffer innocently and so eventually I found myself also wallowing deep in self-pity. Then I did the most dangerous thing a person can do when wallowing, I started to compare.

I began to look around and compare my life to others. Everywhere I went and everyone that I saw seemed blissfully happy. I falsely assumed and was sure that behind their smartly-wreathed and decorated front doors there was only laughter, joy, and peace. The more I compared myself and my family to those around me, the more miserable I became until I was literally in fetal position in bed one night, full of self-pity and paralyzed with grief. I began to wonder what had I done to be dealt such a sour deck of cards. Then I started the negative self talk which included a list of all the reasons why I of course, didn't deserve happiness. I was in a bad place!

When I am in trouble I have learned to do two things; I reach up and out! I pray and read inspirational books or scriptures! While reading one day, I came across this advice, "When you are struggling to feel grateful, have an attitude of gratitude. Keep a journal and write down something daily that makes you feel grateful."

Initially, when I read that advice I thought to myself, "Well, that's a bunch of hooey (or some other descriptive word)!" Sometimes when you feel miserable, wallowing can feel so good but only temporarily. So then I eventually decided to act on that advice. I found a notebook that would become my gratitude journal. I started to write down specific things that made me feel grateful each day. It took awhile at first to think of something to write. I was so focused on everything in my life that difficult and sad at the time.

My list started out simple and short; air, food, water, life.

Then over time I couldn't stop writing. My list was getting longer and more detailed.

My life hadn't changed, but my attitude did and so then my burdens became easier to bear.

Soon, I encouraged my children to participated in the gratitude journal writing and I bought a special book with a picture of the resurrected Christ on the cover. The picture reminded me of His promise to heal my broken-heart (Luke 4:18) and it gave me additional strength.

Our Family Gratitude Journal

Being grateful helped me to feel closer to Him and my children felt this peace as well. I felt humbled and blessed when my children expressed their gratitude for the simple things we had in our lives and for the small blessings that can easily be taken for granted.

These words are a treasure to me now. A collection of all that we truly had during a time in our lives when at first, I thought we had almost nothing. Christ keeps his promises! He blessed me with the desire to feel gratitude while experiencing adversity. Through this experience, He healed my broken heart and helped me to see more clearly.

When we first started the tradition, Bella wasn't writing by herself. We transcribed her words as she spoke. In her first gratitude entry she said that she was grateful for her name! In this entry above, she wrote that she was thankful for all of our food and the vegetables that we had harvested from our garden.

One of my favorite pages

My sweet girls

12:18 PM
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Grace

adversity

God's Grace has blessed me over and over again throughout my life. Over the past few days I have been pondering one of the many miracles that He performed in my life during the darkest of days.

I had just left the Women and Children in Crisis Center with my daughters. The youngest was just two and half. We had returned to our family home after a judge granted us the house through a protective order. Our lives had imploded and I felt shell-shocked and full of the fear of the unknown. Each day was a challenge as I would rise wearily from a sleepless night and put on a happy face for my children. The dark shadows of anger and rage was now gone within our home and this brought me great relief.

However, I was faced with heaping bills of debt, a house that was in the early stages of foreclosure, legal fees, and consistent threats of and violations of the protective order. I had no idea how I was going to meet all of the financial obligations of the family, including all of the debt left behind for me to assume completely, on just my teacher's salary.

I was fearful of losing my job, especially if my personal problems leaked out and patrons of the school heard of them and were worried about safety issues. I didn't fully understand the social stigmas associated with domestic violence until I was in the midst of trying to escape it. I was beginning to realize that people, hearing stories through the media or having innate fears or misunderstandings of their own, could pull away and back off and not want any part of something that they didn't understand.

This realization came to me like a blow to the face when my daughter's daycare provider came to me and told me she could no longer watch my youngest daughter. This woman felt like I may of over-reacted by filing a protective order and that she couldn't support me in my decision to leave my husband and that I needed to find a new baby-sitter. Apparently, my husband at the time went to her and tearfully told her a story. I don't know exactly what was said, but it was enough to convinced her to pass judgement on me and refuse to watch my daughter.

I was shocked and hurt, but mostly so very worried about who would care for my daughter now while I worked. What if others from my place of employment or parents of the children in my classroom, what if they felt the same way? What if this whole thing (wanting to free my children from witnessing violence at home and wanting my own freedom from humiliating physical and psychological abuse) caused me to lose my job?

How would I support my children? How would I feed them? Where would we live? What if we had to move? The children would lose their friends at school and church. The only support systems they had ever known. I began to panic. What if I was wrong? Doubt filled my mind. I began to doubt myself. Then I could hear the voice of the adversary repeating the words spoken to me often throughout my marriage, “I told you no one would believe you. You are crazy. You always over react. What an idiot. Without me you're nothing.”

I ended up in fetal position on my bed that night. The girls were already asleep. It was a Friday. I remember being grateful to have the weekend to get myself together before the work week started again and I was bombarded with more unknowns. My prayer was just three words at first. Help, Help, Help! I repeated them over and over again in my mind.

Then, I remember calling out to God reminding Him in a childish way. You promised to help me. You led me to the shelter and brought me here. What do I do? These are your daughters too. I know you love them. You loved them first before they ever came to me. Please, help me know how to take care of them. Protect them from all of this. Please Father, just put a bubble around them that can deflate all the negativity, sorrow, and pain. I will take is all for them. Just help me protect them from having to suffer because of the actions of a parent.

Bella's blessing day and McKenna's baptism day!

Finally and from exhaustion, I stopped speaking and slinging words up to heaven. I laid in silence and wept and then very slowly I felt the anxiety slowly dissipate and I heard the sweetest words in my mind, "I am HERE. Wendy, I am here! I have ALWAYS been here and I am waiting for you to give me your burden. Lay it at my feet!" My heart began to overflow with love and soon, I was sobbing with gratitude. Peace entered my soul and I felt calm and protected.

Then, the scripture came to me 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. I had heard this scripture many times in my life but in that moment it became so real to me. I had been trying to carry this immense burden alone and was buckling under the weight of it. All I had to do was surrender and give it to Him. He who knows all the sorrows of the world and is the only great Healer of hearts. The last impression I remember feeling that night before finally fell fast asleep, was that everything would work out and that I needed to ask for help at church on Sunday.

Throughout the next day as I went about my duties, I had to continually visualize in my mind wrapping up my burden in a bundle or package and literally laying it at the feet of Jesus. Or I would visualize two Oxen yoked to together and then visualize my Savior standing next to me helping me carry my burden. If I didn't do this I would fill myself slipping back into that fearful, anxious state I had found myself the day earlier.

The next day was Sunday and I was craving the peace that I would find there as I worshipped with others. I was nervous about asking for help. Some of my close friends knew about the details of my marriage ending but I had done a very good job of keeping everything a secret for many years. So, many people were shocked and I expected there was confusion and talking, but I didn't care. I was mostly worried that some would misjudge me. However, if I began to feel fearful of that or of the future I would remember those sweetly and simple words, I am here!

I asked the Relief Society President to announce for me in the Sunday meeting for the adult women, that I needed a new babysitter for my youngest child immediately and that I wouldn't be able to pay much, if anything for a while. I felt slightly humiliated asking for a handout but was desperate for help and then I went to sit in the Young Women's class (youth class) where I served at the time.

After church was over and people were exiting the building, one of the ladies walked right up to me in the hallway. She grabbed me smiling and said, "I want to watch Bella!" I couldn't believe it! I was on the verge of tears, I tried to explain, but I can't pay you much, if hardly anything." I started crying then and her eyes filled with tears. She said, "Wendy, I want to take care of Bella! I am not doing it for money. I want to care for Bella." I was overcome with gratitude.

How do you thank a woman who is willing to step into your place as a mother, when you can't be there yourself? How I ached to be with my daughter all day, but that was not a possibility for me and so the Lord provided a way for my daughter to still be loved and nurtured and He soothed my aching heart in the process.

This sweet sister had two older sons the same ages as my two older daughters. She had not been blessed with anymore children after that and I know her heart ached for more. Bella would help fill a void in her life too.

This Christ-like sister was a surrogate mother to my daughter for over two years. She loved, taught, and nurtured her in her home. Bella received her undivided and loving attention during a very difficult time in our lives. This situation ended up being so much better than the daycare Bella had originally been attending. The Lord was well aware of Bella's needs and He knew both of our motherly hearts as well. He had lovingly orchestrated the entire thing.

To others it may seem like a simple story full of coincidences. I know different. Through the Grace of God it was one of many miracles that occurred during those dark days of my life. Those miracles were like beacons of light that illuminated my path helping me see how and what I needed to do to help my children.

I never felt truly alone as a single mother during those years. I felt God's hand in my life constantly and whenever I turned to Him, He helped show me the way. He put others in my path who were earthly angels, inspired to administer to the needs of my daughters. He was always actively helping me raise my precious daughters. All I had to do was ask and for this I will be eternally grateful. Our Father in Heaven is the Father of us all. He knew and loved our own children first. He knows and loves them still and He will always help us in our divine role as a mother. All we need to do is call upon Him and His Grace and He will lead us lovingly home.

My daughters and I together at Sariah's wedding in 2012

5:42 PM
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Thirst

adversity

My head injury was the catalyst that helped me to see how important it was for me to change my life. Up until the point of the horse accident, I realized that my children had mostly seen me sad, stressed, or scared. When I did seem happy, it was usually forced and fake for the children's sake. So while lying on my back in a horse corral and staring at the dark sky on that spring night in 2004, I thought to myself that if I die now my children will have never known me to be truly happy. That thought caused me to feel a deep sadness for my children. I wanted a chance to make that not be true and that is when I started to change my life.

Recovering from a traumatic brain injury is like being in a deep and sluggish fog that slowly starts to dissipate over time. I knew that I had hurt myself, especially my brain when my head made contact with the metal fence. However, I didn't know the extent of my injury immediately.

After arriving at the hospital by ambulance the night after the horse accident, my world started to get very foggy. I guess the adrenaline which had hit my blood stream after being thrown from the horse had finally stopped pumping through my veins. The swelling of my forehead had continued. Apparently the right side of my head had sort of a Frankenstein quality to it. At least that was what I was told by the ER nurse. It wasn't aesthetically comforting to know that my head looked large and squarish, but medically it was probably good news! Most of the swelling was occurring outside of my skull. Initial brain scans showed no bleeds on my brain and so the doctors stated I had a severe concussion and should consider myself lucky. They kept me for observation for a few more hours and since I had never lost consciousness, they released me.

I wanted to get home to my girls. My daughter was fine and I was so grateful knowing that nothing had been injured or broken on her little body. She had been released hours earlier after all of her scans and x-rays came back normal. So I tried to get out of my hospital bed and move to the wheel chair.

The problem is I couldn't walk. Whenever I moved the world started spinning so fast I had to fall to the floor and hold on for the ride and then hold perfectly still until it stopped. Even in bed I fought the vertigo. If I turned over or re-positioned my head, I felt myself and the bed start spinning in a fast circle. I was grateful the vertigo didn't cause nausea for me like it can for others, but I still couldn't function because I couldn't move. They told me that the intense vertigo would gradually go away and before I left the hospital they fitted me with a pair of crutches to use to get around.

So I went home and was soon left alone to recover with my six month old baby. Holding a baby while using crutches is impossible and since I was afraid of falling while carrying her, I crawled. I have memories of crawling across my bedroom floor to her crib. Using the crib to hoist myself up and get her out. Then I would use the crib with my one free arm to slowly drop to the ground and one arm crawl back to bed. It was awkward but safe and it got us to my bed where I could lay down and nurse her. She would sit and play on the bed until I crawled back to her crib and put her in. Thank goodness she hadn't started crawling yet herself.

I don't know how long it was before my mother and sister arrived and saw me like this. They were shocked when they saw the condition that I was in and that I was alone. I hadn't thought to call for help, I was so out of it. I was a sight to behold. The large hematoma on my head had slowly changed to a deep purplish blue and the color dripped down my face under the skin. In addition, to the dramatic purple and blue hues on the right side of my face, my eye was black and swollen. My hair was matted and still had remnants of dirt from the horse arena. I was so grateful that they could help me wash it.

The doctors were correct. The vertigo slowly left over time and a week later I was back at work teaching and wearing sunglasses. I didn't want to scare my first graders when they looked at my face. The swelling had gone down but now my bruising was starting to turn green and brown on my face and neck. I still struggled with positional vertigo. When I would focus with my right eye to write on the board, my classroom would start spinning. If I changed position and held still it would eventually stop. There were other subtle things that I noticed. It was hard to stay focused on a task for an extended amount of time. For the first time in my life, I suffered from headaches. I would become extremely fatigued by the end of the day and then I started to get thirsty.

It wasn’t a normal thirst, like the kind I had experienced in the past. This intense thirst started gradually until it became so powerful that I would have licked up a dirty puddle off the ground if that is all I could have found to drink.

I first noticed it when I was pumping breast milk during morning recess for my baby. There were a couple of us working moms and so the school had turned a large closet in the building into a lactation room where we could plug in the pumps and collect the milk for our babies. I remember thinking. Wow, I'm really thirsty. It must be the change of the weather (it was getting hotter outside) or I must be producing more milk.

Every day I would get a little thirstier. Eventually, I got to the point where I was drinking a full water bottle hourly and then running to the bathroom to pee it all out. This lasted all day and all night long. For the hour that I would sleep in between hydrating and dehydrating sessions at night, I would dream of water. Water, Water, Water! Tall glasses of water, streams of ice cold water, waterfalls, waves of water and in my dreams I would be trying to drink the water and yet I never could get it to my mouth. I would wake up desperate for water and running to the bathroom to pee out more water. It was as if every cell in my body was shrinking and screaming for water at the same time. I would gulp it down and it still wasn't enough. It was exhausting and I knew something was seriously wrong with me.

I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. I needed to see him anyway. It had been a month since the accident. He specialized in emergency medicine and sports medicine and he knew right away what was wrong with me. “It sounds like you’ve injured your pituitary,” he stated matter of factly. “The small master regulatory gland located in the center of the brain. It's very hard to injure that." He said, "Especially without damaging other areas of the brain.” He ordered an MRI to confirm it and called me after receiving the results. He further explained, "Your pituitary was almost ripped from its location when you jolted your brain in the fall. Its blood supply was compromised." He concluded that my pituitary was no longer functioning and had begun to atrophy.

He also went on to explain that my body would no longer be able to retain water on its own. Treatment consists of taking a synthetic hormone every 4-6 hours daily or when the crazy thirst starts for the rest of my life in order to avoid dehydration. The medical diagnosis was Central Diabetes Insipidus.

"Be grateful you didn't break your neck or suffer cognitive brain damage," he went on to say. "It really is quite a miracle." I left slightly in shock and trying to feel grateful but mourning the loss of my pituitary. I began to wonder how my life would be affected by this change.

As my pituitary shrunk and atrophied, my courage grew. I knew now how short life could be now. A slight change in the angle I fell or the force of the fall could have easily changed the outcome of the injury causing it to be much more debilitating or fatal. How easy my life could have ended that night. Every day was a gift now and I knew it!

My mother once wisely said to me, "Wendy, you live with what you allow and if you choose to allow it and live with it, you must accept it!" Well, for almost 15 years I had lived with abuse and allowed it to happen. I wasn't going to accept it anymore.

I had given all of my power and control to someone else and trying to take that back is a very hard thing to do. It almost seems impossible at times.

I had made the mistake for years thinking that someone and something outside of myself was responsible for making me happy. I kept waiting for things to change, for him to change. When all a long I was the one needing to change in order to find happiness!

I felt empowered now and I couldn't be intimidated. I felt stronger and more confident with the knowledge that happiness was attainable and within my reach. I was determined to make a better life for my daughters.

Every time I felt thirsty, I was reminded of this and so constantly I was recommitting myself to moving forward with this change. If I felt weak I would eventually soon feel thirsty and then be reminded again. This process helped to strengthen me.

I knew that God had protected me and had spared my life. I felt His help and hand in my life. I also began to clearly see that my happiness did not include the man that I had been married to for all of those years.

When I started to express this and assert myself, the violence increased. However, my thirst for happiness and peace were far greater than my fears and so I was able to slowly begin to change my life.

12:09 PM
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Journeys

Thoughts on Aging and Wisdom

Gratitude

Grace

Thirst

Every time I felt thirsty, I was reminded of this and so constantly I was recommitting myself to moving forward with this change. If I felt weak I would eventually soon feel thirsty and then be reminded again. This process helped to strengthen me.

Hi, I'm Wendy!

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