The Monster and the Miracle

August 28, 2011 was just like any normal Sunday. We went to church as usual, and had dinner at my parents' house. Everything seemed fine. Then, that night, after we put the kids to bed, Jad started to get stomach pain. He said he felt like knives were stabbing him. He started to throw up, and he kept wailing in pain. He was freezing cold, but sweating too. He couldn't even stand up. He just kneeled over the toilet and screamed that he needed to go to the hospital.

I was very worried. I knew Jad wouldn’t say that unless something was really wrong. I couldn't take him there because I had two children (one a young baby) asleep in their beds. I then thought of calling my brother, Aaron. He graciously accepted my plea to take Jad to the emergency room.

When Aaron arrived, I had managed to get Jad down the stairs, but he was kneeling over the steps moaning, with a bucket nearby. It would have been comical, had it not been so disconcerting. I watched, feeling helpless, as Aaron slowly led Jad to his car and off to Durham Regional Hospital. Aaron told me he drove as fast as he could, recognizing just how bad it must be… Jad was a very tough person, and he could barely talk.

I didn't sleep well that night. I keep waiting for my phone to ring with an update. The only comfort was in knowing my brother was with him.

Aaron related to me the events of that first night, and it made me even more grateful he was there. When they first got to the emergency room, nobody seemed to notice Jad could barely stand. While he was bombarded with paperwork, Aaron gingerly held up his body weight.

When Jad got to a room, he was given an IV to remove the pain. Ridiculously, though, the nurse had to stab him many times before finding a vein. She kept apologizing, saying she was new. Jad didn’t seem to notice at first, but finally grunted in displeasure.

Jad saw a doctor soon after, and after explaining his symptoms, the doctor recommended that he get a CT scan. Aaron and Jad were then told to sit tight until the doctors transferred shifts. That ended up being several hours. When the second doctor finally arrived, he confirmed the need for a CT scan. Jad had to drink a liquid in three doses to cleanse his body. A nurse was supposed to check on him to give him each dose, but she didn’t. Aaron took it upon himself to administer the liquid to Jad.

Finally, he got the CT scan. Brian McDonald, someone we didn’t know then but do now from church, gave him this scan. The doctor came in to show Jad the x-ray, which showed a large growth on his liver. He told Jad grimly that he most likely had a cancerous tumor.

At receiving this news, Jad wept. He did not want to die and leave his family alone. What would they do? He wasn’t ready to leave this earth yet.

I am so grateful Aaron was with him to comfort him during this heartbreaking time.

I came to the hospital the next morning after taking Casey to school. I asked for prayers from my friends and family, and held on to faith that all would be well. After all, they had not yet confirmed it was cancer.

                                             Rigel and I visiting Jad in the hospital.

We were so blessed and grateful to soon hear that cancer was out of the list of possible diagnoses. If that huge growth were a malignant tumor, Jad would have been dead long ago. We breathed a sigh of relief, but longed to know what was really wrong.

That whole day, we waited to know what was in his body. At one point, a whole room of doctors came in, and said they didn’t have an answer but were still working on it. All they knew was that he had something large, living, and growing inside of his liver. They said that Jad would have to have a lot of blood taken. Some of the blood would be sent to Maryland to be tested.

We were so grateful for the visitors we received during all this waiting. It made it a little easier to endure.

The following day, August 30, the doctors had a theory: Jad had a Middle-Eastern parasite that had been growing inside his body for years. They said his condition must be very rare since none of them had ever seen it before.

Once the blood tests were sent off, Jad was able to return home to await a diagnosis. He would have to return to the hospital once the blood tests came back. The doctors said if the blood tests were inconclusive, he would have to have a liver biopsy.

Exactly one week later, on September 6, Jad and I went to Duke University Hospital to get the news from Dr. Luke Chen, the Infectious Disease Specialist there. After about four hours at the hospital (most of it spent waiting), we got our answer: Jad had Echinococcus.

Dr. Chen, a Chinese man with an Australian accent, drew pictures for us of what was going on in Jad’s liver. He had never actually seen anyone with Echinococcus before, but he said Jad must have had the disease for at least 10 years, based on the size of the cystic matter. He told us how this parasite can infect many organs, and that Jad was very lucky it was the liver, because the liver is the only body part that can regenerate itself. He also expressed relief that the infection manifested itself when it did, because it could have ruptured at any time, ending Jad’s life.

A doctor in the Northeast told Dr. Chen about a patient she had had with Echinococcus. She said that if Jad needed surgery, it would be best for a cancer surgeon to operate. Dr. Chen told Jad that if he had surgery, Dr. Bryan Clary would be his surgeon. He had never operated on someone with this condition, but he was one of the best out there.

He put Jad on a pill that is supposed to cure Echinoccocus (it had to be specially ordered), in the off chance that he could be cured. More realistically, though, Dr. Chen expected the medicine to just stop the cyst from growing. Jad had to be on this pill for two months before he could have surgery

We left the office that day a little overwhelmed, but with faith all would be well. We really liked Dr. Chen, and knew Jad was in good hands. He was so interested in Jad’s case, and wanted to learn everything he could. He was also very friendly, helpful, and offered us as much information as possible. We could tell he cared about Jad’s well-being.

After that appointment, we were really curious to find out how Jad got this infectious disease.

Well, after some reflection with his mother, Salma, Jad figured it out:

In the Spring of 1999, when Jad was 17 years old, he and many members of his family went to have a barbecue near a farming community on the Dead Sea. There were people on the street selling lettuce from their farms. Jad’s family ended up buying a large box of lettuce. Jad loves lettuce, so naturally, he started to eat it. One of his mother’s cousins said that the lettuce should probably be washed before it was eaten, but the consensus of the group was that if they just shook the lettuce off, it would be fine. His whole family ate the lettuce without a problem. That evening, though, Jad started to get very itchy. He also had bumps all over his body, and swelling. Salma took Jad to an urgent care to be checked out. The doctor attributed the bumps and itching to an allergic reaction. He gave Jad a shot to help with the itching and swelling. The shot worked, so Jad went home.

This would not be the only time Jad had a reaction over the next few years.

In summer 2002, when Jad was living in Port St. Lucie, FL, he had another reaction. He had gone out to eat and eaten a tuna salad. Late that night, he got very itchy, with bumps and swelling. His uncle Hani took him to the hospital, and the doctor said he probably had food poisoning. He was treated for that, and sent on his way.

Jad's uncle Hani complained to the restaurant about the food poisoning, but the restaurant did not want to take responsibility. The hospital recommended that Jad to go to an allergist to try to find an explanation for his symptoms. After the tests, the allergist told him he had no allergies at all. The restaurant still claimed it wasn't food poisoning, but offered to pay for the allergist appointment.

The following summer, something much worse happened. Jad had eaten dinner at home with his uncles William and Hani, and his other roommate, Ihan. Hani had made chicken wraps with large amounts of onion. After dinner, Jad felt bloated. That night, while he was sleeping, Jad got a huge stabbing pain in the right side of his body. He was terrified because he couldn’t feel or move his right side at all. William and Ihan quickly took him to the same hospital as the year before. The doctor was not that concerned about Jad’s condition, and said he just had bad gas. He gave him a lot of pain medication and pills for bloating.

In late summer 2004, when Jad was in Jordan, something else happened. He got something called a Christmas Tree rash. It lasted for about 45 days. The doctor said it was very common and not dangerous – just an allergic reaction.

Following that summer, Jad did not have any serious symptoms. He would just occasionally have pain under his ribcage. He always assumed it was gas.

After we told Jad’s family that the issues he had all those years were due to Echinococcus, they started to do some research. They said that many people in Jordan over the years had gotten the same infection – many in their lungs – and there had been many deaths. Only in the past 6-7 years had Jordanian doctors finally started to get familiar with the disease.

Did it bother you that all of these doctors just made assumptions instead of finding out the issue? Did you recognize, as we did, that had any of these hospitals done a CT scan, Jad could have easily been cured, with no need for surgery? We had a little frustration over this, but mostly just held on to our hopes that the Lord would bless Jad to make it through this, and that our family would come out stronger with lessons learned.

Before surgery was scheduled, Jad had another CT scan, just to see what was going on in his liver. The cysts, as anticipated, were still there, as big as ever, but there had been no progression. Yes, Jad definitely needed surgery.

He met with Dr. Clary to get options for the surgery, and to set a date. I wasn’t there for that appointment, but Jad’s brother, Tawfeeq, accompanied him. Dr. Clary gave Jad two options: robotic surgery or invasive surgery. With robotic surgery, Jad would only have a couple small scars, but his risks of dying were higher. In contrast, invasive surgery would be less risky, but he would end up with a huge scar, and cold weather would cause him pain going forward. Dr. Clary let Jad choose, but made it clear which was the safer choice. Jad chose the invasive surgery option.

Surgery was scheduled for November 10, 2011.

You may wonder how Jad and I were feeling as the date approached. It’s interesting. Jad and I were never really that scared. We both knew everything was going to work out. We even went into it all with a positive attitude, looking for the benefits for our family. For example, here is my Facebook status post from November 4, 2011:

Ah, I love my family so much! I can't wait for Jad to come home tomorrow. Then we'll be together every day for at least a month while Jad heals from surgery, which is next Thursday. I'm sure this experience will only bring us closer.

                A picture of our happy family just a couple weeks before the surgery.

November 9 arrived, and I asked for my friends and family to pray that Jad’s surgery would go smoothly the following day. I received an outpouring of support, love and prayers. My friend, Jada, put a post on Facebook that brought me great peace. She said:

Much love to Jad and the entire Al-Bjaly family. God has an army of angels to watch over you all. I pray with all my heart that His grace and mercy will be with you and that you will have peace throughout the entire process of surgery and recovery. Much love. Let me know if you need anything.

We went to bed that night ready to face the day. We had to be at Duke Hospital really early in the morning, like around 5:30 AM. My mother was an angel to come to our home before we left, and take care of my sleeping children. She would get Casey off to school and then bring Rigel to the hospital to wait with me until the surgery was over.

I remember riding the elevator together when we got to the hospital. We were going up into the unknown. We had only been married for less than two years, and here we were, going through something so serious, something we never would have expected. After Jad was prepped for surgery, I was taken back to wish him well and give him my love. The anesthesiologist said I needed to give him his “goodnight kiss.” I did just that, and then turned to leave him in the surgeon’s hands.

It was amazing how many people were in the waiting room. They were all waiting for a loved one to come out of surgery. My mom and Rigel were with me the whole time, and we watched people. We even had a conversation here and there. I was never afraid. I was a little impatient, though, especially as the four-hour mark went by. He should have been done with his surgery by then. The minutes kept ticking, and I yearned to hear my name over the loud speaker to come get an update. At one point, I did go up and ask. The person at the desk inquired with Dr. Clary for me, and he just said the surgery was taking longer than expected.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Late in the afternoon, Jad’s mom, Salma, aunt Rania, grandmother, Nada, and uncle Hani, came from Kinston to sit in the waiting room and show their support. They brought lots of Arabic cookies. Aaron came to visit too.

After about eight hours, I got called up to the desk. The surgery was finally over. I gave a huge sigh of relief and contentment.

Dr. Clary called all of us into this office to explain what he had found during the surgery. He said that he removed a mass about the size of a football from Jad’s body. The cysts had been attached to Jad’s diaphragm and gallbladder as well. Not only was most of Jad’s liver removed, but also his gallbladder. Removing the cystic matter from the diaphragm was very intricate work, causing the surgery to last so much longer than planned. We were shocked at all this, and even more grateful Jad was alive and well.

My mom and Aaron headed home with Rigel, and I stayed behind with Jad’s family to be able to hopefully see him. After about an hour, I was the first to be able to see Jad. I was a little nervous walking down the long, cold hallway. When I approached my husband, he was moaning and could barely talk or keep his eyes open. He didn’t seem to quite know what was going on. Jad may not have realized I was there, but regardless, I held his hand, spoke sweetly to him, told him I loved him, and sweetly kissed his forehead.

When I was with him, my first feelings were that of sympathy for my poor husband…but then I felt God’s love surrounding both of us. I knew that He was with us, and that Jad’s surgery went well because of faith and prayers, and because Jad had a special mission to perform for the Lord in this life. He would recover, and he would go forward in faith.

It was hard to leave him, but I promised I would be back the next day. Jad’s family members took turns visiting him too. I saw tears as they re-entered the waiting room. We said our goodbyes, and left Jad at the hospital.
He did not remember any of us visiting him that evening. Late that night, though, after I put the kids to bed, I got a phone call. A nurse from Duke told me that Jad had woken up and was asking for his wife. My heart broke a little, and I wished I could be with him. I promised I would be there the next morning.

My cousin, Lisa, yet another angel in this story, came down from Virginia for several days to help watch my kids so that I could be with Jad as often as possible. I drove back and forth to Duke way more times than I ever thought I would in my life during the next six days. Often, Salma came with me. Other times, when Lisa wasn’t able to watch the kids, I would take Salma to the hospital, go home, and come get her later. I wanted someone with Jad as often as possible.

When I first saw Jad that first day after surgery, I was so humbled. Seeing him that way, I realized how much we take our bodies for granted. He needed help with everything – eating, drinking, adjusting pillows - moving at all. As I observed his difficulty, I started to giggle – something I do when I am nervous or unsure. I think the nurse thought I was either really crazy or really insensitive. I actually was a little alarmed. I hadn’t expected him to be so bad off.

Jad told me that the previous night he had a dream. I won’t recount the details, but it was a confirmation to him that there is life after death, and that it was not his time to go.

Throughout the next few days, Jad slept a lot, and I read more books than I had in a long time. He also had to practice walking. The first time I walked with him, both Salma and I helped him, and he literally walked as slowly as a turtle. It was hard to walk that slowly, but I always held his hand.

To quickly summarize Jad’s progress through November 16, the day he went home, here are my Facebook statuses for those days:

Saturday, Nov 12 - For those of you who want an update on Jad, here it is: He will be in the hospital until at least Tuesday. He is lucid, but is still very tired and weak. He is also still in a lot of pain. He has gotten up and walked around a couple times, but it's really hard for him. We were told this is the worst day for him, so hopefully it only goes up from here. He can have visitors any time, as long as they are 12 or older. He is in room 4115 at Duke University Hospital.

Sunday, Nov 13 - Jad was feeling much better today. He isn't hooked up to all the tubes anymore. It is still really hard to get up and walk, and he still sleeps a lot, but he is definitely getting better. Hopefully tomorrow he can get out of the hospital gown and put on some real clothes. I know he's looking forward to it. 

I believe this was the only day Jad saw Casey and Rigel during his hospital stay. My mom brought them to Duke, and we talked to Jad in the hallway. He was still in his hospital gown. The kids couldn’t go into his room, which is why he had to venture out. It was so nice to have us all together, even just for a little while.

Tuesday, Nov 15 - Jad is feeling much better today and after today, no more tubes. He should be going home tomorrow or Thursday. It's still hard to walk and move a lot because of pain, but hopefully that will get better in a couple weeks.

Wednesday, Nov 16 - I am so proud of Jad. I walked into his hospital room this morning, and he had gotten a shower, shaved, gotten dressed, and done his hair all by himself. AND, he is coming home today!!!!

It sounds kind of silly to say I was proud of him for doing normal things, but honestly, after such an intense surgery, the ability for him to do anything on his own was impressive.

Later that day, I was able to bring Jad home. I was thrilled. I had longed for our family to be together again. I remember going to get the van, and waiting by the front for him to come out. I kept looking and looking. Such joy overcame me as I saw him being wheeled out of the hospital. After being assisted into the van very slowly, we started our journey back home and to recovery. I felt bad because I know that he was in so much pain the whole way home, but he tried to be strong. When we got home, it took us several minutes to get him out of the car, down the steps, and down the walkway to our townhome. Each step was a victory.

The first thing he wanted once he got situated on the couch was Jello with pineapple in it. He had really enjoyed his Jello at the hospital. He had been on the “bland diet”, so that was the most exciting food he had eaten there.

The next week or two were very hard on me. I was taking care of my husband and my two children by myself. We so appreciated the meals our friends brought to us, as well as the love and support from everyone. Going up the stairs was really hard for Jad for a while, and he had to sleep sitting up with lots of pillows around him. Slowly, though, the pain started to lessen and the wounds started to heal.

                       The first picture of Jad holding Rigel after his surgery.

                  The family on Thanksgiving Day, not long after the surgery.

Now, Jad is healthy and life is back to normal. We will never forget that time of our lives, though, for we learned so many lessons:

 We knew that the scare that Jad had was a blessing from God, for without it, he may have eventually died from a ruptured cyst.

We gained a stronger testimony of the Word of Wisdom. Jad quit drinking in 2008, when he was investigating the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He used to drink every night. Had he kept drinking, he very well may have died from his infection, because his liver would have been completely destroyed.

We received a second confirmation that leaving my job was the right thing to do. It had been really hard for me to adjust to not working, but, had I still been working when all this was going on with Jad, I would not have been able to be with him and help him through it. Those times in the hospital, and the weeks following, were such a tender experience for us. I needed to be with him during that time.

We found one more reason that Jad was supposed to live in North Carolina: excellent doctors and surgeons who would take the time to properly diagnose him and operate on him.

We felt so much love from family and friends. We will always remember the kindness, generosity, faith and prayers.

Most importantly, we felt God’s love for us. We knew He was with Jad, that He was always with Jad. This was all part of the plan, and He prepared a way for him to survive, from moving to United States, to joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to moving to North Carolina. This trial he faced was only a test. It would make him stronger, and was for his good.

Maybe it is a good thing Jad has such a large scar. It is a constant and profound reminder that miracles do happen.

***If you would like to see pictures of Jad's liver, see below. If you get queasy easily, you probably shouldn't scroll any further. Enjoy!***

The Holy Ghost led me home

Exactly one year ago I had a spiritual experience behind the wheel. This is how I told it on Facebook that night:

I have to share a spiritual experience I had last night while driving home from babysitting my good friend's kids. I got in my van and tried using my trusty phone GPS to get home since I haven't been to my friend's house enough times to memorize the route (she lives way out in the country, by the way). There was no signal. I couldn't find my car GPS.

 I hoped there would be a signal by the time I got to the end of the gravel street. There wasn't.

 I sat at the stop sign trying to fiddle with the GPS, and then and older man turned onto the gravel street, rolled down his window, and started talking to me. That freaked me out a little, so I quickly turned right since I could get away from him faster that way. I was pretty sure I went the wrong way, but I figured I could just turn around soon.

 I kept trying to get my GPS to work, to no avail. Remember, it was pitch black outside.

 I decided to turn onto the next street I saw and turn around. Big mistake. This was a very narrow gravel road that went on forever it seemed. I saw signs saying Private Property and then got nervous about being shot at. Finally, I saw a spot to turn around, and then I drove for about half a mile to get back to the road. 

I turned right, back towards my friend's house. I knew I was going the right way but still had no idea what to do next.

 I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to help me get home. My GPS did not magically start working - no, it never worked. However, though I didn't know where I was going, I managed to remember road names when I got to them. I never passed a turn, and I never went the wrong way on a road. The final test was when I wasn't sure whether to turn right or left onto a road I would had to drive five miles on. I turned the way I felt I should, and five miles later, I recognized my surroundings.

 I know with all my heart that the Holy Ghost led me home. Not once did I make a wrong turn. Not once did a vehicle drive behind me, forcing me to hurry and making me nervous. Not once did I see a deer or any other animal. Though this was a scary experience for me, it was a testimony builder. God is there for us. We need only to trust in Him.

Don't try to be hot. Try to be you.

My mind has been going to modesty lately, and I realize I have a lot of experiences and thoughts I would like to share with you to help you see just how crucial it is.

Members of my church think about modesty on a daily basis. You usually won't see active Mormons wearing short skirts, low-cut tops, saggy pants, or even sleeveless attire. Why?

Here is some of the official reasoning from the leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints:

Your body is God’s sacred creation. Respect it as a gift from God, and do not defile it in any way. Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Prophets of God have always counseled His children to dress modestly. The way you dress is a reflection of what you are on the inside. Your dress and grooming send messages about you to others and influence the way you and others act. When you are well groomed and modestly dressed, you invite the companionship of the Spirit and can exercise a good influence on those around you.

Never lower your dress standards for any occasion. Doing so sends the message that you are using your body to get attention and approval and that modesty is important only when it is convenient. (For the Strength of Youth: Dress and Appearance)

I was also interested to see what the dictionary defines modestly as. A couple ways dictionary.com defines modesty are:

1. Freedom from vanity, boastfulness, etc.

2. Regard for decency of behavior, speech, dress, etc.

I love these definitions, because they go so perfectly with the standards of my church. The way we dress does matter. It affects what others think about us; it reflects our own feelings of self-worth; it brings different kinds of attention.

I really believe that vanity plays a huge part in how we choose to dress. There are certain ways to dress that will definitely be great for our egos. I like the second definition too, though, because modestly isn't just about dress. Our speech and behavior can be immodest as well. Let me tell you some stories from my life to help illustrate this:

As a little girl, there were certain clothes I liked better than others, and I would choose my clothing accordingly. All kids are that way. It wasn't until middle school, however, that I felt pressured to dress and look and act differently than I would naturally choose to.

I started 6th grade not really caring a whole lot how I looked. I remember wearing my mom's old shirts that she didn't want anymore. They were obviously too large for me. I also remember wearing some boy clothes because they were more comfortable. I was happy in this style (or lack thereof), until kids started to talk. I remember one day I wore a casual pink dress to school and paired it with dark blue Tweety Bird tennis shoes. A girl in Technology class laughed at me and said that my clothes didn't match. On another occasion, I was wearing my favorite long-sleeved pink shirt with a satin pink bear on the front. Someone remarked rudely that I always wore the same shirt, and didn't I have anything else to wear. I told that person I wore that shirt often because I loved it, but from that day on I made sure to wear it less.

At 11 years old I was starting to learn that clothes mattered. People were going to either praise you or make fun of you for your clothing choices. At some point in that year I noticed that girls were starting to wear make up. I soon found some old blush of my mom's in our hall closet, took it secretly, and then started to put blush on my cheeks after gym class every day so I would look prettier.

Then after a summer, my parents took me to get new clothes and I started 7th grade. I remember sitting down in one of my classes and a boy saying a little too loudly for a whisper, "That's Mandy? She looks different. She looks good!" I was wondering why that boy was saying that, but I blushed a little, excited to be looked at so differently than the year before. I recall that year making more certain I looked pretty at school. I even rolled up my shorts sometimes to make them just a little shorter. I wanted to get the attention the other pretty girls were getting. At that age, girls were starting to develop, and noticing I didn't have much, I started to stuff my bra. I am not sure if someone told me to do that, or if I came up with it on my own, but I did it. I also took some large hoop earrings that my mom didn't want me to wear, and wore them to school. I also remember on the days I wore button-down shirts, unbuttoning them from both ends so I showed way more skin that I should have. Why did I do all this? I knew it was wrong because on my walk home after getting off the bus, I would take off the earrings, remove the stuffing, and button my shirt. I was starting to learn that girls who dressed like that got more attention from the boys. That's why. I liked not being the nerd anymore.

I think I calmed down a bit in 8th grade. I wasn't stuffing my bra anymore, but boys were still talking about breast sizes on the bus. I remember one day there were a couple boys pointing to different girls and yelling out a letter - a guess at cup size. I got embarrassed. I started thinking about it. I didn't stuff my bra again, but I did make sure to pull my shirt down in the front whenever I could to make it look like I had something there. One day after school, right after I had gotten home from the bus, I got a phone call from a boy in my neighborhood. He told me I had looked extra hot that day, and he was wondering if I wanted to come to his house and make out. I was horrified. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't dressed like that so that boys would want to do stuff with me. I was doing it because I wanted to be pretty and just wanted attention from the boys. I didn't know they were thinking about that. I turned him down saying I wasn't like that. I never told my mom about it, but oh had I wished she had been home when I got home from school that day.

In high school, I dressed pretty modestly. I think the incident in 8th grade woke me up a bit. Plus, in high school, kids just weren't as mean. I actually was shocked when girls I knew from church would go to school and change their clothes in order to show off more skin. It really bothered me, actually. At the end of my junior year, I went to the Senior class dance because I was a Junior Marshall. One of my church friends, a Senior, came to the dance in a halter top and mini skirt. I couldn't understand it, and I was upset by it.

I was a little vain in high school, though. There was a time (Freshman year, maybe?) when I had to check my face almost constantly to make sure it looked good. I would hook my powder case to the drawstring in my gym shorts just so I could check my face periodically. Every time before I went up to the front of the class, I would have to check my face too. I didn't want to look ugly and be laughed at.

Though I dressed modestly in high school, my behavior didn't stay so modest. Being in the theater program introduced me to a whole different way of behaving. I will say I was probably really good my Freshman through Junior year, but my Senior year was when I had my first kiss. I was in a musical called Pippin and I had to kiss the boy playing Pippin. I didn't know this when I got the part, and freaked out when I realized I had to. I was also freaked out that I had to get under bedcovers with him in one scene. My parents laughed when I told them about it, probably because they knew I was so anxious about it and could be trusted;  I ended up performing in the musical.

After having my first kiss during a rehearsal on stage, and then practicing kissing for months, I got pretty good at it. That opened me up to other boys wanting to kiss me, you know, just acting. I remember I would kiss random boys for fun. I just got way more comfortable with boys in general. That lead me to not always having modest behavior. Teenage boys like girls that will show them affection. Teens expect each other to have boyfriends or girlfriends. If you don't, you are lame. Some of my friends had very immodest speech. They would talk about making out, and even sex. I couldn't believe some of my friends were having sex. People would ask me about my sex life at school, and at work too. I was too afraid to say anything about it, so I would either be silent, or say that was personal. Was my speech modest? Well, it wasn't immodest, but I probably led people to believe I was doing things I wasn't.

After high school, I started going to the Singles Ward - a Mormon congregation for Singles. I met MEN there. No more boys. Immediately I got the attention of men 3-5 years older than me. In high school, you were lucky to get the attention of someone one year older. I started dating. There was one guy after an activity who told me, as he drove me home, that he would stop the car right then and make out with me. I told him no because I had already kissed a guy that day. No joke. I had actually threatened a guy I had talked to most of that activity that he was being annoying and that if he didn't stop, I would kiss him. He didn't believe me. Well, I am a woman of my word... That annoying man and I actually dated for a  few weeks, and he was the first man I ever "fell in love" with. He would spend time with me, kiss me, and take me out, only to break my heart when he went back to school.

After my first love left, I started dating again here and there. One evening, a guy who I had just been out on a date with, and who had given me a ride to an activity, asked me if I wanted to fog up the windows. I didn't even know what he meant at the time. If I had, I would have been tempted to smack him and never talk to him again. You can see from these early adult experiences, I was still pretty naïve. The immodest people were the men I was going out with. But, I was getting a feel for why they liked me. I started to assume again that men only liked girls who were attractive to them. During my time before I went off to college, I really fell for a guy. He was so funny and sweet, and good looking. I remember one time at an activity I gave him a hug and lifted my leg around his waist to be funny. Thinking back, I have no idea why I did that. That wasn't appropriate at all, and he told me he didn't want me to do it. Mixed messages. So hard to figure out what behavior was best.

Then I went off to college in Utah. From my first day there, I had men flocking to me. I went out on a date my first night after Institute (scripture class). I dated a lot of guys my first semester in college. They would all tell me how pretty I was. Many of them would try to put their arm around me or kiss me way before I was ready - sometimes I wasn't even attracted to them. One evening, I went to a guy's house to play games with his other friends. During one of the games, it came out that one of the guys loved my legs. I wasn't wearing a short skirt, but he still felt he had to mention that. After the games were over, everyone went home, but the guy whose house we were at asked me to stay to talk. He told me he cared about me. He spoke words that made me want to stay with him a little longer. He gave me clothes to change into to be more comfortable.  He took advantage of me - of my innocence, naivety and trustworthiness.

During this first semester, there was one man, only one, who treated me like a real person. He admired me for my personality - for being me. He didn't spend all the time telling me how pretty I was. I was not attracted to him for months, but he kept being my friend and helping me. He never pressured me to date him. Then one day, I realized that I was in love with him. He was someone who saw passed physicality. He didn't try to get me to engage in immodest behavior. I ended up marrying him... and ironically, he had a pornography addiction. What a conundrum.

So, after two years of marriage, I was single again. I felt the lowest self-esteem I had ever felt. I was heavier because of having a baby. I was way too young to be divorced. I was desperate to find someone else. I expressed that desperation probably more than I realized, and it turned men off.

I worked hard to lose all my baby weight, and that helped my confidence a bit. I started to try to look prettier, "hot," even. I dated around. That seemed to help some of the men look passed my past and go out with me. None of the men I dated were right for me, though.

At work, I started noticing that I got some attention on the days when men around me liked the way I looked. I don't know why, but these men had no filter and would tell me straight up if they liked the way my butt looked in certain jeans, etc. One Halloween, I dressed up as Miss Scarlett because the supervisors in my department were doing a live Clue game. One of the IT men, an older man in a wheel chair, told me how much he liked how I looked. I don't remember his exact words, just that he really found me attractive, and that I threw up a little knowing that. The outfit I wore wasn't revealing, but looking back, your clothes don't have to be revealing to be immodest. They don't have to be revealing to get men's attention. There are certain colors, fits and fabrics that make the men look a little harder and a little longer.

Towards the end of 2007, I became good friends with a couple new people I met at work. We called ourselves "The Trio." By the beginning of 2008 I realized I had strong feelings for the male in this trio. He wasn't a member of my church, and I figured his values weren't the same, but I felt this overwhelming desire to be with him. One night, he and I went to an art show that my work told us about. He went willingly because he loved art and was an artist himself.

We had a wonderful time, and decided to watch a movie at his apartment afterwards. I didn't think anything of it because we were just friends. He was so nice and rubbed my feet for me during the whole movie, and afterwards, I was ready to go home. He told me how attracted he was to me. I found this as a complete shock because he had never told me he had feelings for me.

Well, he ended up kissing me. It didn't take long, though, before he said nobody could know because I was a supervisor and he wasn't. For months, I went through a roller coaster "relationship" with him. He kept telling me that we weren't right together, but he was just so attracted to me at the same time. I found myself not dressing as modestly as I should. It wasn't that I was wearing really revealing clothing either. I just made sure to show just a little bit of cleavage, wear really beautiful and flattering clothes everyday, and walk, talk, speak and look at him just right. Where did I learn how to do all that? I still don't know. But I knew how to swing my hips just right, bend over at the right moments, ask him about how hot I looked that day, smile with my eyebrow raised and my lips pursed. That was how I got him to stay along with me, and not totally let go.  Don't get me wrong. I wasn't playing him. I was madly in love with him, in fact. I wanted to marry him. He knew my son and got along well with him. I helped him get a promotion at work. I talked to him about religion all the time. He, however, even though he said he loved me, treated me like a doll. He would put me on the shelf whenever he was done with me. He would act tenderly with me, and then turn around and tell me we couldn't be together.  It was terrible. We ended up never really being together as a steady couple.

I realized throughout that time, though, that other men looked at me a certain way when I looked good. They would follow me with their eyes, almost hungrily. It was a little creepy at first, but then I learned to relish it because at least I was getting attention. Maybe some of the other women at work were even jealous of me.

I got out of this phase when I met another man (a member of my church) a couple months after my work love ended. I never felt a need to talk, act, or dress immodestly with him. However, I still tried to look "hot" most of the time so that he would stay attracted to me. I guess I never really realized he grew to love me for me, and not how I looked. My relationship with him didn't work out, though, because of personality issues and goal differences.

 Then I met my wonderful future husband, Jad. When I first met him, we were at a church dance. He had a very strong accent and I didn't understand him well. All I knew was he was really handsome, knew how to dress, and smelled amazing. My first attraction to Jad was looks (and smell). His first attraction to me was also looks, so he tells me.

The thing that was different was that our relationship never dwelled on our looks. He fell in love with me and I him for reasons having nothing to do with looks. He accepted my past without judgment. I wanted to look beautiful for him when we were first getting to know each other, but I never felt I had to look perfect. We went out and did activities where I didn't always look my best. He loved me anyway. I never dressed immodestly with him. I never spoke that way, or acted that way either. In fact, I never liked it when he would call me "hot" or some other word like that. I was different. I think after my work love, I realized that when someone said he loved you, it wasn't always love. Sometimes it was lust, and it stemmed from immodesty.

I have been married to my husband for 4 1/2 years. You might be wondering if I have let myself go. No, I haven't , actually. I still care about my appearance, but I don't wear make up every day, and I don't take nearly as long to get ready anymore. I don't leave the house every day making sure I look "hot" or "sexy" before I get in the car.

No, I don't care about looking "hot" anymore because I have learned from all the experiences I just told you that when someone's goal is to look "hot," a lot of things happen:

She forgets who she really is and what makes her special, and starts to become something she isn't. She starts to make looks a priority, becoming vain. She desires men to desire her, and is often successful. She is viewed outwardly so penetratingly, people assume that is who she is inwardly. She starts to make poor choices because she does not have the Holy Ghost right there with her warning her of temptation and testifying to her of truth.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to look good, sophisticated, beautiful, or well-dressed. It is not vain to take care of yourself, and to help express on the outside who you are on the inside. There is something wrong, though, with turning away your self-respect just to gain attention. Your outside should match who you want to be on the inside.

When I dressed immodestly, or acted or spoke as such, that wasn't me. I am not by nature a vain, selfish, immoral person. I was starting to become that way, though.  I also found myself being different in different places. I was a hypocrite. I didn't want my fellow church members, or my parents, seeing me act that way. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care. I care now, and that is why I have written all this.

The stories I told each of you are very personal, and at times embarrassing. I told them so that you can see what I have come to know. I want the young girls, just starting to feel the pressure, to know that they should remain true to themselves. Don't change your clothes, speech, or behavior to try to be popular or to get attention. Be you, and be the best you!

What I told my son when he asked me about bullying

Bully: a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people.

Last week my 9-year-old approached me and asked me if a certain word was a bad word. He was asking because a kid on the bus last year used to call him that over and over. He hadn't really known if it was bad, and that was why he hadn't told me about it before.

I told him it indeed was a bad word, and that it was wrong for the kid to say that to him. I told my son he should never use that word, and that if a kid says something like that again, that he should tell his bus driver immediately, and talk to me or his dad about it after school.

Then, Sunday, he came up to me again and wanted to talk about it some more. I asked him what specifically he wanted to talk about, and he wasn't sure. So, I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer for guidance, and found myself saying:

You should have compassion on kids who use bad language,  are mean, or make fun of you.

Why do kids do these things? There are many reasons: they have friends or family who set bad examples; they don't feel loved or encouraged at home; they are abused by parents or other family members; they have been bullied before; their media choices champion bullying; they don't have many friends;  they don't know that you or they are children of God; they don't realize that true joy comes from helping and loving others. It could be any of these reasons, or others.

Look at the list. Though their behavior should not be excused, they are not just bullies. They have pain and struggles too.

That being said...

You are not what these kids say you are. You can get to a point where you won't feel bad when kids are mean to you.

It is so important not to believe what bullies say. They don't know you. They either pinpoint one quality they don't like about you and define you by it, or they make something up just for laughs and to see you flinch. Do not let someone who doesn't care about you define who you are.

Just say to yourself, I know that this isn't who I am. I am a child of God. I have a family who loves me. I have good friends. I do my best in school. I am not going to let this bother me. I am not going to let them pull me down and try to change me. I know my self-worth.

Don't let someone else try to change you.


Sometimes kids take it to heart when people say mean things. If they are bullied about their clothes, they want to wear cooler, nicer clothes. If they are bullied about being nice to an unpopular kid, they stop being nice to that kid. If they are bullied about being helpful in class, they stop helping their teacher. Some kids even think that if they become bullies, they can then escape bullying.


Don't bend to them. They will not suddenly be your friend if you change. They will just laugh and realize they have exercised power over you.

Always remember you are special. Remember what matters. Remember who you are.




Kids will always find a way to make fun, whether it is clothes, body type, intellect, values.
Sometimes kids make fun of qualities that are good.

Oftentimes, kids bully because they are jealous. That is why they sometimes make fun of good things, like being a nice person or doing well in school. Never assume that you are doing something wrong if you are bullied.

Don't lie to avoid being made fun of.

As a teen I remember sometimes lying about silly things, like saying I had two pairs of the same jeans when in reality I wore the same pair two days in a row. I lied many times in high school when I was asked out on dates and I wasn't 16 yet. Every time I lied it was because I was afraid of the mockery, the gossip and the finger-pointing at my expense.

You should never lie. What I did was wrong. I may have avoided one wrong, but I invited another. Have integrity. Tell the truth and don't be ashamed of it.

Never pick a fight.

If bullying goes beyond harsh words, and a kid wants to fight you, you should not engage in a fight. If a kid hits you, defend yourself if you must. Do not get angry and do not continue the fight. Make sure to tell a teacher and always tell the truth.

Not all mean words are curse words. Never call kids bad names.

Never use curse words, whether in conversation or to bully. There are other words that are not necessarily curse words, but are meant to put others down. For example, when I was in school, I was often called a "goody goody" because I got good grades and helped my teacher willingly. Basically, don't use any words that have a damaging intent.

When someone else is being bullied, you should take a stand.

Sometimes when you see a kid being bullied, you might be afraid to do or say anything for fear of retaliation. You never have to be afraid to do the right thing, though, and showing support for a victim is always a good thing. Ask the mean kids to stop. If they don't, talk to the kid and make sure he/she is okay. Be that kid's friend, even if it means you are also made fun of. Think of what good you can do.

If you set an example by not being mean, and not participating in bullying, others may follow.

Not all kids want to bully, or be quiet when they see it. They are just afraid. If they see you standing up for others, you will be surprised how many will follow you instead of the bully. You be a force for good.

You can talk to me and your dad any time, about anything.

There is nothing that you can't talk to us about. We will be understanding. We will listen. We will give you a hug. We will talk you through it. We will pray with you and for you.

We love you. You are a good boy. Thank you for coming to me and talking about this today.