I didn’t know Brenda then, but I remember watching the massive news coverage of the murder. Joe was shot by a the son of a disgruntled employee, an illegal immigrant who already had one aggravated assault charge on the books. Because it was a politically hot topic (and still is), the media covered the murder relentlessly and unfairly.

Eleven days later little Trevor Joe was born. Brenda and I delivered our babies in the same hospital only one day apart. We remember the same inconsolable baby crying down the hall and we both remember flipping through the TV channels and seeing coverage of Joe’s murder on every channel. I thought, “Losing my husband, watching him vilified on television and then having a baby alone– that is my worst nightmare!”

After selling Joe’s business and paying all the debts Brenda was left with a bank account of $0– and she was grateful for that! With four children to care for and little work experience Brenda had no idea how she would care for her family.

I moved to this area six months later and met Brenda at the swimming pool. As we talked and I pieced the story together I could not believe that this vibrant, cheerful, beautiful woman in front of me was a widow of only six months. There was nothing pathetic about Brenda. She settled into her parents home, went right back to serving as the children’s chorister at church, found a job at a dentist’s office and worked tirelessly to cheer her children.

Brenda was and is wise about accepting help. One woman came and babysat her children every week, a sister filled her fridge with food, a neighbor fixed her car. She let people share her pain and take away a piece of her grief. Brenda had bad days, very bad days, but she never let herself slide into self-pity.

Faith is Brenda’s defining trait; her faith is simple, “God loves me and will lead me.” She isn’t troubled by politics, anti-Mormon banter or defending doctrine like I can sometimes be — she simply believes.

Today Brenda has a home of her own and a manageable work schedule. She is constantly doing something fun: playing tennis, sledding with her kids, visiting the neighbors to play ‘Guitar Hero.’ At the elementary she volunteers as a dance teacher and dresses thematically whether the dance is disco, line dancing, or ballroom. Neighborhood kids often stop by her house just to talk. My kids simply adore her.

Obviously I could go on and on, but the greatest lesson I’ve learned from Brenda is that your attitude– not your circumstances–determine your happiness.

Earlier today we went to the temple to remember Joe. The temple is so calm and pretty and full of sweet old ladies who look you right in the eye. On the way home she told us that she had finally had the courage to watch her wedding video with little Trevor. “Look my daddy talks! My daddy moves! Can we go clean daddy’s grave mommy?” Trevor has grown up with daddy as a story, a photo, a grave to visit, but never as the living, moving father he should have known.

When I dropped Brenda off at home she had a floral delivery of 4 dozen red roses— ah, people are still looking out for her, still taking away a piece of the pain.

The post <i>Portraits of Mormon Women</i>: Brenda appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

Five winters ago I visited Kit and Kevin in their 420 sq. ft. apartment. I was heavy with unborn Mary and in a full-blown knitting frenzy.

The nesting instincts of pregnancy flew straight to my fingers where I spent several months knitting up hats, cardigans and light-as-air baby sweaters. The repetitive movement soothed my queasy stomach and the intricate patterns fed my need for creativity in a time where everything else felt out of control(I’m not a good pregnant woman.) More obsession than hobby, my needles followed me to the doctor’s office, book group and I really, really wanted to knit in church.

Delivery cures me of the compulsion, leaving half finished projects strewn about the house and a sweet little bundle in my arms.

Observing my progress on a little red & white cardigan, Kit begged me to teach her the wonders of knitting. I hesitated. Kit was in her 6th year of infertility, and inspiring her to knit baby sweaters seemed a bit cruel. Besides, I’m a lefty and a klutz at teaching.

But Kit is patient and clever. Following my inept instructions she began to cast on and cast off, to knit and to purl. I left her with a skein of red yarn and a set of good metal needles.

Alone with her new hobby, Kit visited a fragrant huddled yarn store in France where she purchased THE MOST COMPLICATED knitting patterns in creation and a dozen skeins of yarn to create a baby outfit. No one told her that beginning knitters usually stick with scarves and hot pads, no one told her that multi-color projects and cables and fancy stitching were reserved for hobbyists with years of experience. She didn’t know that most people end up with one sleeve 4″ longer than the other and pants two sizes larger than the top.

She didn’t know it was impossibly hard.

Kit carried her projects to doctor’s appointments and failed in-vitro attempts and of course, dozens and dozens of Kevin’s basketball games. Within months, her skills surpassed life-long knitters.

And then, two years later, a baby came to Kit and Kevin’s arms. And with 17 months more– another. Ryn grew too fast and I never got to see her in THE outfit, but petite little Elle has been wearing it comfortably for months.

I asked Kit, “How did you make this, how did you even begin, when you’d had so many disappointments?

Kit laughed, “But I always knew we’d have a baby. Birth or adoption, boy or girl. I knew I’d be a mother; it was just a matter of time. I’d be silly if I didn’t prepare.”

And so, on New Year’s Day when goals paralyzed me and I saw only limitations and impossibilities and age creeping on; I thought of Kit and her knitting needles, of dreams stitched into reality.

See that blue bump in the center? That’s baby girl number 3.

The post <i>Portraits of Mormon Women:</i> knitting up hope appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.