My Story

THE STORM

A few years ago, I was a busy wife and mom, raising five children. Our days were pretty typical and never easy, but our family was happy. Everything changed when my oldest son, at 15 years old, fell suddenly ill. What began as a terrible rash on his arms and legs soon led to many other health problems, including that he developed allergies to almost every food type. The symptoms of this mysterious illness increased until it stripped away all of my son’s normal activities. It seemed so unfair for a teenage boy who had such a zest for life.

For months we sought answers. My days became a ritual of taking my son to doctors appointments for IV’s and tests, trying to find food he could eat, and reading and researching anything and everything I could get my hands in the hopes that I could find a solution as to what could heal him.

Every night before he went to bed, I applied ointment and gauze all over his raw skin until he looked like a burn victim. He would sometimes wince in pain as I wrapped him, but he rarely complained. I also tried to treat this illness’s emotional wounds by speaking to him with all of the positivity I could muster. I wanted him to fall asleep to the tune of hope and encouragement so his body would heal.

My son’s illness took a toll on our whole family, and I was no exception. There were so many needs to be met. I worked through the day and night, trying to take care of everyone. Not only was my oldest son sick, but I had a nursing baby to take care of and another son with autism- not to mention two other children who had typical children’s needs as well. I tried to be carry it all, but in reality, I was drained and overwhelmed.

The dream, A message, and a Beginning

About a year into this trial, my great-grandpa, whom I never knew in this life, came to me in a dream. He told me that he loved us and knew what it was like to be sick (he suffered the effects of mustard gas from WWI) and he said he was watching over my son. Something he said also nudged me to dig deeper for answers. I felt humbled, comforted, and blessed by that experience.

After that, in the middle of those sleepless nights of waiting, worry, and prayer, I became increasingly curious about my family history. I started researching to take my mind off the stress. It was thrilling to make discoveries about those who came before me. Of course, it began with a hunger to know more about my great-grandpa, my guardian angel, but that led me to want even more! The more I learned about him, the more I also wanted to know my other ancestors too. He sparked a flame in me. Little did I know the role this experience would play in my life when my son finally received a diagnosis.

ANSWERS And More Heartbreak

I’ll never forget the moment when the doctor sat down, looked at me in the eyes and gave me the answer that only raised more questions when she said, “Late-stage Lyme disease.” Then she proceeded by saying, “Lyme disease affects every patient differently, but, unfortunately, it is attacking your son’s digestive system. It is a complicated disease. If he can’t eat, I don’t know how he can fight it.”

She paused to catch her breath, which felt like she robbed straight from my chest. Her next words were reluctant but deliberate. “Do you understand what I am saying?” she asked. I just stared at her, trying to process. I was unable to blink or speak. I tried to nod, but I didn’t know if it was detectable. Tears welled up in my eyes as I fought to will them away. I had naively assumed that getting a diagnosis would put us on a path to recovery, not more pain. At that moment, I was so afraid and crushed.

The days that followed were a blur as we moved towards the next step. I tried to hold everything together while my family’s happiness hung in the balance. Those days were long and hard, and by nighttime, I needed something powerful and personal to lift me. What had begun as a mere curiosity about my family history, now became a lifeline for me. I looked forward to sitting down each night and connecting to my ancestors as I learned about them. A tangible strength built inside of me.  My son wasn’t the only one who needed healing. I did too- although it was in a different way. I felt this healing begin to take place in my life each time I worked on my family history.

Connecting to My Ancestors

I quickly developed a deep connection to the grandmothers in my line as I learned about their lives. They taught me how to carry on in the face of adversity. Their trials, traditions, and triumphs taught me the nature of these amazing women. They helped me to see that there is strength in motherhood.

My great-grandmother, Ellen, touched my heart. She was a beautiful young woman who went through unimaginable heartache with four of her babies’ deaths. A century after her loss, I mourned with her. Never had her story been so meaningful to me. But, the most profound realization I had was that sorrow did not define her life. Grandma Ellen found enough joy and purpose to fill more than a hundred years on this earth.

Another great-great-grandmother, Molly Butler, became a widow with five young children when she was only twenty-five years old. Even though she had the deck stacked against her, she picked up the pieces and went to work. She started a business and also had a car, to the dismay of everyone in town. It was uncommon for a woman to drive at the turn of the century. People would shake their heads as she drove by and say, “There goes that ole Butler woman.” My Grandma Molly B. makes me laugh. I like to think she was a shock-and-awe kind of gal. I love her spunk and that she didn’t give in to tragedy or other people’s opinions.

One by one, I connected to a web of women who, although different, showed extraordinary resilience in the face of adversity. I wondered if I bestowed any of that strength. I studied their faces in old photos and sometimes could see myself. They were part of me. I realized that their genes I carried didn’t only appear in my features but in my heart and spirit too. Learning about my many mothers helped me understand that I was part of something greater than I had ever known, and I gained more confidence in my abilities and looked at motherhood in a whole new way.

The stories and experiences of my grandmothers and grandfathers enriched my life. They were my shining examples. But the real miracle happened on challenging days when I couldn’t summon any strength. In those moments, when I had nothing left to give, I felt their presence. It felt like my grandfathers were offering protection, and my grandmothers were bestowing their guidance and fortitude upon me.

Just as I had encouraged my son many nights when the difficulties seemed too hard to bear, I knew my mothers were doing the same for me. Their spirits whispered to me that everything would be okay. My burdens lifted when I couldn’t carry them alone. It was not an imaginary force because I had no energy for such things. I had angels with me, and I knew who they were.

Visiting some of my grandmothers and the places they lived, walked, and were laid to rest in Mississippi.

Today

A few things have changed since this journey began. My son has made an incredible recovery and is doing very well today. He has even been able to serve a church mission that has brought us so much joy as he has served. My sweet boy is another one of my greatest exemplars of resilience. Not a single day goes by that I am not grateful for these miracles.

Understanding a Mother’s Love

With time, other trials have come and gone, as they tend to do. Although I don’t always welcome new challenges, I take comfort knowing that I can always call on my angels for support. And I do! Anytime I am struggling now, I ask my Heavenly Father to please “Send the Angels!” I know he does. The boundless love of family, past and present, is a reminder that life is so good.

I thought I understood a mother’s love when I held my child for the first time. But now I know that something so powerful could never have been born in an instant. That bond was not only between my child and me but was a continuation of the love passed down for generations. 

I’ve never felt so much like myself since learning about my mothers, who came before me. I continue to sense their spirits guiding and protecting my life and those of my family. As I move forward, I continue to humbly carry my ancestors’ stories in my heart and hope that I am maintaining a legacy they are proud of. 

What I really want you to know more than anything

This journey has changed the course of my life for the better and added a depth to my perspective that I couldn’t have gained any other way. The blessings I have experienced are real and tangible. Although my story may sound like a rare experience, I want to make one thing clear. I’m not entitled to these blessings and experiences  more than anyone else. We are all entitled to them because of the eternal nature of God and our families. My hope is that by reading my story that you will know that these opportunities and connections are available to you too. Of course, it will be personal to your circumstances, but that’s one of the things I love most about family history. Each journey is special and unique. 

 If you are in need of help like I was, for any reason, work on your family history. Pray for guidance and a witness. As you do so, I believe you will have uniquely catered experiences to you and your needs, and I promise you will find strength, healing, and blessings along the way. Have faith that it is available to you, and it will come! Be patient and trust that it will happen for you, too! 

My Family <3

Sharing what I’ve learned

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LOVE WHAT MATTERS.