Welcome to the Daylight

The Good Life? As if facing cancer wasn’t challenging enough, towards the end of my treatments, my husband broke his leg and required surgery. His procedure was scheduled at IMC Hospital in South Salt Lake, about 45 minutes away. This presented a significant challenge, as I was still managing my own health, with a compromised immune system from chemotherapy, making hospital visits risky. Thankfully, our families stepped up, providing meals, helping with the kids, and taking turns staying overnight at the hospital. Despite my condition, I felt I should check on my husband every now and then. One day, as I left the hospital, I discovered someone had hit my car and fled without leaving a note. Although the damage was just a small dent, it felt like yet another blow. Sighing, I got into the car and pondered whether we were destined to be cursed forever. As I turned on the radio, the song “Good Life” by OneRepublic began to play: "Oh this is going to be a good life, this could really b...

Even IF In the spring of 2012, just after Mother’s Day, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It all began when I discovered a lump and decided to get it checked. After a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy, I was scheduled for a follow-up appointment a week later to discuss the results. I didn’t think it was anything serious—after all, we rarely do—and went about my week as usual. On that Friday morning, since my youngest daughter had afternoon kindergarten, I brought her along to the appointment. After I checked in and settled into the waiting area, the nurse called me back. However, seeing my daughter was with me, she looked horrified and asked if my little girl could stay with the registration staff.  At that moment, I knew something was wrong so I got my daughter situated and followed the nurse into a back office. She sat me down and delivered the news: I had grade 3 invasive ductal carcinoma breast cancer. I would need surgery to remove the lump, followed by radiation and chemoth...

Stay Once we returned to Utah, my husband completed his physical therapy and chose a new career path. I finished my college education, and we settled into what felt like a somewhat normal life. With his medical retirement, he never had a full-time job, which gave him ample time to travel and seek out every opportunity for Military Space-A flights to various destinations. I went with him on a few trips, however, with the goal of finishing my degree and working a part-time job I could rarely go with him, which sadly, he seemed fine with. We welcomed our first daughter a few years after his accident and our second daughter was born four years later, so with two young children to care for I figured this should be the time to settle down and focus on them, however, he continued to travel and didn't see a problem leaving us behind. Because of this I felt like a single mom most of the time, however, anytime I brought it up he would say there was no use both of us being stuck at home and t...

Little Wonders My husband’s brothers arrived around August 11th, 1999, spending the next couple of days sightseeing and enjoying the beach. On August 14th, my husband decided to take them sailboarding, so they rented kayaks, grabbed his sailboard, and headed to the base Marina. It was a beautiful summer day, with just a light breeze—perfect for windsurfing. I stayed home to work on homework. After a couple of hours, I took a break to water the plants outside. While I was out there, I heard thunder in the distance, which struck me as odd since there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I went back inside, and within 15 minutes, the sky turned black, rain poured down in sheets, and thunder and lightning flashed everywhere. I started to worry about the boys and was about to go looking for them when my neighbor knocked on the door. He was from New Orleans and knew the dangers of sudden Southern storms; he offered to check on them, and I was grateful for his help. Thirty minutes later, he returned wi...

Your Losing Me I dated my missionary for a few more years before we got married. Like many young couples starting out, we found an apartment, continued our studies, and worked hard to support ourselves. Everything seemed to be going well until a few months into our marriage when my husband revealed that he didn’t truly believe in the Mormon Church and never really had. To him, it might not have seemed significant, but for me, it felt monumental. I had always believed in it and dreamed of creating the “perfect Mormon family", making up for what I felt I missed growing up.  I didn’t express much to him at the time, only that I didn’t want to attend church alone like my mom had. I asked him if he could at least come with me to church, which he agreed to, and I appreciated. Externally, I may have appeared composed, but inside, I was completely shaken. We had just been married in the temple, and now that sacred union felt empty. My dreams had shattered, leaving me with a profound reali...

Neon Moon I met my husband in high school and, just as I had hoped, I found someone from a wonderful Mormon family who was planning to serve an LDS mission and would take me through the temple. We began as friends, but as he prepared for his mission a few years later, our connection transformed into something more. He gave me a promise ring, and I was convinced we'd marry when he returned. I was determined to wait for him, however, I still hadn’t completely closed the door on dating so when I unexpectedly ran into  Ryan, a guy I knew from high school, and he asked me out, I said yes. He was a few years older so I didn't know him well, however, between his blond hair, tan skin, sweet personality, and a smile that melts your heart, who could resist? We ended up dating throughout my missionary’s absence and grew incredibly close so when my missionary returned home, I struggled to let Ryan go. I knew, however, that I needed to see if things were going to work out with my missionary...

A Million Dreams The Beginning Growing up, I always thought different than the mainstream Mormon and now, reflecting on my upbringing, I understand better why. Although I attended church throughout my childhood, my father never participated, and my mother stopped attending when I was a teenager. My dad, raised in a traditional Mormon home, was active in the Church until graduation when he faced immense pressure to serve a mission, but ultimately chose not to go. This decision resulted in his Bishop mandating classes for individuals looking to quit smoking or drinking, which must have felt deeply hurtful to my dad. He wasn’t doing anything wrong; he simply didn’t want to go. That moment marked a turning point for him, and instead of complying with the Church’s expectations, he chose to walk away. My mother took me and my four siblings to church when we were young, but by our teenage years, she had also stopped attending. I suspect this was partly due to the challenge of going without my...