About a month ago, I had the impression that I needed to read Narnia to the girls again. I posted about the last time I read it to them - in 2010. I felt it calling me again and it has been a wonderful experience.
Every evening, after they get in their jammies, the girls and I pile onto our bench swing in the front yard and read about the adventures of Digory, Polly, Lucy, Susan, Edmund, and Peter. And now we're just beginning the adventures of Shasta and Bree. My girls LOVE these stories. I LOVE that they love them. Next to the scriptures, the Chronicles of Narnia are my favorite books. They are, in a way, like scriptures to me. They bring me closer to my Savior. As I came to the first mention of Aslan in The Magician's Nephew, I had to stop reading as tears filled my eyes and emotion choked my throat: "The earth was of many colors: they were fresh, hot and vivid. They made you feel excited; until you saw the Singer himself, and then you forgot everything else. It was a Lion. Huge, shaggy, and bright, it stood facing the risen sun. Its mouth was wide open in song and it was about three hundred yards away." I was filled with such love - love for my Savior, love for my family, love for Aslan, love for C.S. Lewis for writing these books.
Here are a few more quotes that touched my heart:
“But I cannot tell that to this old sinner, and I cannot comfort him either; he has made himself unable to hear my voice. If I spoke to him, he would hear only growlings and roarings. Oh, Adam’s sons, how cleverly you defend yourselves against all that might do you good!” - Aslan in The Magician's Newphew
-----------
“But please, please - won't you - can't you give me something that will cure Mother?'
Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
'My son, my son,' said Aslan. 'I know. Grief is great.” - The Magician's Nephew
-----------
“No great wisdom can be reached without sacrifice.” -- The Magician's Nephew
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“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
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"Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do." ― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
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“I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
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And one quote that comes from the Introduction of this particular book (which is very precious to me, because it was a gift from my Aunt Althea, who died a few years ago). It is from Douglas Gresham, stepson of C.S. Lewis and I had never read this before:
"As you read The Chronicles of Narnia, let them carry you too to a place that you know well and store it in your mind. There will be times when you need to go back to your Narnia to seek the kindliness and comfort of this magical land; when you do, you will find Aslan waiting for you."
This is a time when I needed to go back. I am so thankful I did - and that I got to take my children with me. And, yes, Alsan was there waiting for me with messages of love, comfort, wisdom, and peace.
"To Narnia and the North! Bra-ha-ha!" - Bree, The Horse and His Boy.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Link's Story
Many of the people that have read this blog know that Link died, but many don't know how he LIVED. Link had quite a journey in his short life on this earth, and our family did as well. I wanted to document his entire life adventure here & hope to have it as a separate page to keep on this blog.
found out we were having a boy, we were a bit
disoriented. After three girls (ages seven, five, and three), we wondered if it
was possible for us to ever have a boy. But we were filled with joy and
excitement. Visions of father-son campouts, matchbox car races, and
dinosaur-printed onesies filled our minds.

After an exhausting 18-hour labor, Link was born the evening
of November 7, 2012. They handed him to me and at 9 lbs, 6 oz, I just remember
thinking “Are you sure he is really mine? He is huge!” He had beautiful,
enormous cheeks and broad shoulders. We
were instantly in love. Our fourth child. Finally a son.
We spent two long weeks in the St. George NICU with Link as
they tried and tried to wean him off the glucose. Link’s sisters got to visit a few times and
they were enthralled by their new brother – they loved to feed him, hold him,
and kiss those chubby cheeks – even if it was only through the isolette or with
him attached to any number of IVs and monitoring devices. This was a trying
time. Physically, I was recovering from just having a baby. Emotionally, I was
torn apart from wanting and needing to be there for my baby and also knowing
that my three daughters needed me, too. Thankfully, we had a lot of support
from family and friends in helping with our daughters. I spent a lot of time in
prayer, asking for the Lord to heal my baby and let me take him home. I also
prayed for patience, peace, the ability to learn what He wanted me to learn
from this trial, and pleading for an eternal perspective. Gratefully, we had a
visual reminder right outside our hospital window of eternal perspective – a
beautiful view of the St. George temple. I also worked on keeping a gratitude
journal to remember all the miracles and blessings we experienced along the
way. They were not few. At the end of two weeks, Link’s doctor came to visit
with us in our boarding room at the hospital. He said that everything they had
done to get Link to wean off the glucose was not working. They were going to
try a new medicine, but if that didn’t work, he was recommending transport to
the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, where they had specialized diagnostic
equipment and experienced physicians and surgeons. Again, shock prevented me from
processing this information. Philadelphia? That’s across the country! We have
three little girls at home! Still… we had to do what was best for our son and
all we could really do was trust God and hold on for the ride. Link's doctor also arranged for Jason, Link, and I to have blood drawn for a genetic test that might provide more answers.
The medicine did not help Link’s condition and on November
26th, 2012, Jason, Link, two nurses, a pilot, and I flew across the
country in a small life-flight plane to Philadelphia. Link’s three sisters went
to live with their grandma and grandpa in Salt Lake City, Utah. I felt like my
heart was being stretched in two – one part of it stayed behind in Salt Lake City with my daughters. The other part across the country in Philadelphia with my husband and son. The genetic
test results came back within a couple days of arriving in Philadelphia, showing that Link had received a recessive-mutated
gene from Jason, giving him a rare genetic condition – hyperinsulinism.
Hyperinsulinism is a condition where the pancreas simply produces too much
insulin. The
genetic test results pointed to the likelihood that Link’s
hyperinsulism was coming from a focal lesion on his pancreas. They performed a
PET scan and confirmed that he had a focal lesion in the body of his pancreas.

Throughout Link’s hospital stay in St. George and Philadelphia,
we formed a strong bond with him. He was such a good baby – even with all the
pokes and prods (typically he was poked every three hours to check his blood sugar level) and IV lines. He started smiling just before he reached a month
old and had such an amazing, pure, sweet spirit. Beautiful blue eyes. Adorable
cheeks that were impossible not to kiss repeatedly. Being in the hospital with
him for almost two months was so very difficult, but looking back, we also feel
so very blessed for that precious one-on-one time we had with him. Especially
Jason never would have spent as much time with him if he hadn’t been in the
hospital so long.

The next two and a half months were joyful bliss for our
family. We didn't travel. We mostly stayed at home and warmed ourselves in the
glow of the happiness of being together as a family. Link’s sisters smothered
him with kisses and hugs. We had to set a timer to make sure everyone got
enough time to hold him. We had to take turns with who got to take a bath with
him, sit by him in the van, etc. He was truly loved and cherished. Beautiful
memories were made and strong bonds were formed with his sisters. He was healthy. All his follow-up appointments
went well. There was no lasting effect from his condition. He grew. He smiled.
He giggled and laughed. He cooed. He "talked." He played with his toes. He was always putting his fingers in his
mouth. He was getting really good in his exersaucer and jumper. His presence
and effect in our family was profound. He was our miracle baby. He was our
duder-dude. He was treasured and held and loved. March 3 was his blessing day. He was so incredibly handsome in his little white outfit - complete with a tiny bow tie. I remember dressing him in that outfit, trying to wipe the tears away. I just was so thankful for him and he was JUST so handsome. Both sides of our family came to celebrate him, hold him, kiss him and rejoice in his good health.
Then, on March 26th, 2013, without warning, our world
was turned upside-down. I had put Link
down for a regular afternoon nap. When I went in to get him up and feed him, I
saw that he had rolled over. I thought that was
strange, but I didn't panic until I picked him up. He was limp. He was cold. He
was blue. He wasn't breathing. I held him as I ran out of his room. I screamed.
I called 911. I put him on our living room rug. They walked me through giving
him CPR. After a while some police officers came & took over for me -
giving him CPR. I called Jason. I cried. I screamed "He HAS to be okay! He
has been through too much in his life already! He HAS to be okay!!" They
were asking me questions & I was trying to answer between sobs and screams.
I felt nauseous. I felt sick. I felt despair into the bottom of my
stomach. Jason came. The paramedics came. Jason went with Link in the
ambulance & I waited till my sweet friend came to get my two younger
daughters. Then I rode with a police officer to the hospital. He drove fast,
but not fast enough. I called my mom. She said she had to look at the caller ID
to make sure it was really me. I was frantic. We said a prayer on the phone.
OUR "LINK" TO HEAVEN
We discussed names. I knew it had to start with the letter
L. We had names in our family that started with the letters H, I, J, K and M.
We were just missing the L. My husband, Jason, liked the name Lincoln – as in Abraham
Lincoln. Good, strong, noble American name. But I wanted just Link – as in, he
would link our names and our family together. In the end, we compromised and
decided to name him Linkin – and just call him “Link.” His middle name, Dallin, comes from a combination of his grandpas' names - Dan and Billy. Each of the girls also have names from grandmas & great-grandmas.

Jason and I as well as his grandmothers got to spend some
truly sweet, precious moments with him before the hospital did their first checks
and tests. That was when they first
noticed that his blood sugars were critically low. He was rushed to the Newborn
Intensive Care Unit (NICU) to get started on a glucose IV. We were assured that
it was more of a precautionary step and that he should be able to wean off the
glucose in the next day or two and come home to three very excited, anxious
sisters. I remember a photographer coming into our room the next day and asking
about pictures. I informed her to come back tomorrow. Link would be out of the
NICU by then and we should be ready to take pictures before we headed home. The
next day came, and with it came a phone call from our doctor, telling us that
Link was still having low blood sugar issues and he needed to be transported to
a larger regional hospital, 45 minutes away, in St. George, Utah. He said the
ambulance would be there for transport in about an hour. I hung up the phone in
complete shock. What was going on? This was not
how it was supposed to be. How was this possible? All our other babies were so
perfect & healthy! We were supposed to be able to take him home and be a
family.
On December 7, 2012, when Link was one month old, he
underwent surgery. That day there were more than 200 people fasting and praying
for Link. The surgery was successful and
he ended up having a 50% pancreactectomy. After the surgery, everything about
Link’s recovery was amazing – nothing short of a miracle. They said he was in
the top five fastest recoveries they’ve seen for his condition. Within a few
days, Link was up to full feeds and within a week, he was taken off the glucose
IV. What a joyous, blessed day that was! We finally had our “wireless Link”!
On December 19th, after an 18-hour fast without
dropping blood sugars, the doctor came in, raised his hands in the air and
proclaimed “he’s cured! He’s a cured baby!”
Tears came to my eyes as I heard those words and I could not stop the
grin that formed on my face. After just
three and a half weeks in Philadelphia we had a cured baby. What a miracle!
What a blessing! During his recovery, we
never let the family really know how
well he was doing. We didn't want them to get their hopes up. We also thought
if it was possible, we would like to surprise them for Christmas. When we had
first arrived in Philadelphia, the doctors informed us it would be 4-16 weeks
before Link could be discharged, so we bought round-trip tickets to Salt Lake
for Christmas to be with the girls. No one anticipated he would recover so
quickly that we wouldn't need to use the ticket back to Philly! On December 21st,
we flew to Salt Lake City with our son – but none of our family or friends knew
Link was coming home with us! There was a couple on the plane that we had met in
the Philadelphia LDS ward we attended while we were there and we asked if they
would help us carry out our Christmas surprise. After we got off the plane, Jason and I went to meet
grandma and our daughters and hugs were shared and tears were shed – the girls
were so thankful to have their mommy and daddy home – even if it was for a short
time. But – to their surprise, the people we met in Philadelphia came a few minutes behind us with the car seat carrier. On it was a huge red bow. As she handed the car seat to us, she
said “I think you forgot this! Merry Christmas!” Oh the joy and happiness! More tears! The girls and grandma were
overjoyed at this true Christmas miracle! We surprised each member of our
families with the news that Link got to come home with us – he was home – for
good! He was a beautiful, healthy, cured baby! He was seven weeks old when he
finally was able to come home to Cedar City, Utah. To be a complete family in
our very own home felt too good to be true. I wept freely many times at the
miracle to be home with a healthy baby.
![]() |
Taken the night before he died |
When we got to the hospital, Jason met me in the
hallway. We went to the room that they were working on my baby, my Link. There
were no signs of life. I sobbed. I went to where his body lay & held his
tiny hand and the doctor told us that he was gone.
Everything else is kind of a blur. People were there at
the hospital - helping, talking, giving hugs & holding hands - our bishop,
our friend, Jason’s brother. An officer put us in a tiny room and asked a
bunch of questions. I kept looking at him like he was speaking a foreign
language. I was just in such shock.
Eventually we left the hospital and went home. I went
into my room & sobbed. My friend brought the girls to our home & we had
to tell them that their baby brother had returned home to Heavenly Father.
Friends, family, ward members were coming & going - helping with the girls.
Cleaning.
That night was the hardest night of my life. Every
time I closed my eyes, all I could see was his little blue face. All I could
feel was his cold lifeless body. We let the girls sleep in our room. Jason
slept on one side of me. Our oldest daughter on the other. We were all so close
& they were breathing in and out, in and out. I just felt like they were
breathing for me. They were my life support when I felt like
I couldn't make myself breathe. Still, even though they were
breathing for me, my heart was shattered, and I could not sleep. I tossed &
turned. I felt shock and grief in the pit of my stomach that kept coming.
Finally, sometime in the middle of the night, I got up & went into Link’s
room & grabbed the blanket from his crib. I laid down in the bed next to
his crib & just sobbed & sobbed. Oh, how I needed my baby boy in my
arms. How I NEEDED him. My prayers were desperation. They were pleading. They
were demanding. They were "God - can't you see? Can't you see how badly I
NEED him? I need him! Please NO!" They were "Oh God, NO! You have the
wrong girl! I CAN'T do this! I CAN'T! Other women can. They are strong. They
are courageous They are faithful. But I can't. Please don't make
me!"
After a while, Jason came in there. He laid there &
cried with me.
The next few days were full of things that no parent
should have to do for their child. And, indeed, my mind would NOT accept that
this was happening. We chose pictures, we went to the mortuary and picked out a
beautiful tiny casket, we went to the cemetery and chose a plot, we
put together a program for the funeral, I put together a slideshow, we dressed
my baby boy's body for burial....and all the while my mind is screaming "I
am not here. This is not happening. I will wake up. He is fine. He is beautiful.
He is healthy."
Words came from my mouth. I blinked. I breathed. I
pumped milk for a baby that wouldn't drink. I cried tears constantly.
And in the background were angels seen and unseen. So
many amazing people were coming & going. Flowers. Cards. Paintings. Gifts.
Food. So much love. I have to admit that at the beginning, I didn't want any of
it. I just wanted it to all go away. I wanted it all to disappear & I just
wanted my baby boy back in my arms. But I felt the love & support. I felt
the prayers.
Most of all, I turned to my husband. He told me
everything was going to be okay - even when I was looking at him with
tear-swollen eyes and asking "How? HOW can it be all right? How can we do
this?" He is my anchor. He is my rock. He helps me to breathe. To
remember. To kneel. To trust.
The day of the funeral was horrible and sweet and
surreal. Somehow
I got up and got dressed. Somehow the girls got dressed, too. Somehow I got to
the church & as a little family, we kissed & talked to Link's body.
Somehow I stood there for an hour and a half while people came. They came. From
all over. Family. Friends. Loved ones. They hugged me. They told me they were
sorry. They told me how beautiful he was. Somehow… somehow I listened as my
father gave a prayer. Somehow I tucked my baby boy into a casket of white and
watched as they closed the lid – never to see his face in the flesh again until
the resurrection. Somehow I sat through a funeral where heartfelt prayers were
said, beautiful talks were given, memories were shared, sweet poems
were read, powerful songs were sung. Somehow we got to the cemetery and I
listened as my sweet husband dedicated the grave. Somehow I stayed there after
everyone left with my groom by my side and watched as they put his tiny casket
into a vault and placed the lid. Then somehow I left the cemetery and came back
to the church and talked some more.
Now... it's been four months since Link died. It still hurts. I know it will continue
to hurt, but I cannot disregard the tender mercies - the love letters from
heaven - that have happened in our lives since the passing of our son.
Some of them are too sacred to share, but they are real. This whole
experience has tested my faith in the Plan of Salvation, but I can say that I know
that I will see my baby boy again. I know he is happy. I know he watches over
us. I don’t know why this had to happen – especially with all he went through
his first two months of life, butI know my Heavenly Father loves me. At first I
wondered how he could do this when he knew how much it would hurt me - and I'm
sure I will keep on wondering that - but at the same time, his peace & love
have abounded. There was a rainbow on the day of his funeral. The
forget-me-not plant that my grandma gave me is blooming like crazy. I've
had some amazing dreams. I've heard some very healing, loving songs. Read and
heard some wonderful talks. The fact that he died on the week of
Easter - with General Conference to follow the next weekend - is a complete
tender mercy. I wrote this the week that he died:
Empty:
An empty crib.
An empty room.
An empty car seat.
An empty exersacer.
An empty jumper.
An empty Bumbo seat.
An empty swing.
An empty tiny chair.
Empty eyes.
Empty arms.
Empty laps.
Empty hearts.
…..
An Empty Tomb.
I am SO thankful for
the resurrection of my Savior. SO THANKFUL! How horrible it would be to think
that this was the end for my precious son. How horrible not to have the
hope that the resurrection brings!
The Lord has taught me so very much through my son Link in
his short turn on earth. The first big lesson was to find joy in the journey. The Lord repeatedly tried to help me understand through prayer, scripture and song the need for me to
submit to His will and not to wait until we got home to enjoy my son – to enjoy
the experience – to cherish every minute with him – to praise God’s name – even
as our family was torn apart and we didn’t know when we would be together
again. I know this lesson is supposed to be applied even after Link’s death. We
are still to find joy – even amidst the “furious winds” – for we know that it’s
these horrible, difficult trials that will push us along in our journey to the
“promised land” - being reunited with our Savior – and our son.
Link’s death has been
an extremely difficult trial for every member of our family – from my husband
down to our three-year-old – and extended family and friends, we have all felt the
aching loss. It really does amaze me how such a tiny person can leave such a
huge hole in our hearts and in our family.
At the same time, this trial has
brought us closer as an earthly family and closer to our heavenly family. It has solidified our knowledge of the plan
of salvation, the power of the priesthood, the infinite atonement of our The
Savior and the resurrection! We truly know that our son is the “Link” that will
hold our family together forever.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
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