Two Walks, One Day

Today I went on a walk with Etta around our neighborhood. We covered a little over a mile on our walk together. I had my music playing very softly in my headphones and I could hear the groans and noises Etta was making throughout our walk as her eyes filled with tiny tears for a brief moment. We looked at trees, snow, ice, and plants as we walked together. I told her some stories about this neighborhood, this city, this world that she is still getting adjusted to, but that I know and that I have adjusted to. I knew where I was going. I knew that she depended on me at that moment to help her learn and get back home.

I didn't know that while I was on a walk with Etta here in Utah, my Uncle, Jimmy Kuehnau, was in Sacramento, taking his last few breathes on this earth. My mom's brother passed away today. He succumbed to liver disease at the age of 55.

Admittedly, I didn't know Jimmy very well. I don't think I'd seen him in person in nearly 14 years. We were Facebook friends, although with the amount of activity on his Facebook page, I highly doubt he actually knew we were friends on the site...or that he knew he actually had a page at all. :)

But what I do know is that he is sorely missed. By me. By my mother. By my grandma. By my aunts , and my other uncle. And by his family, including his one adorable little granddaughter.

My grandpa passed away nearly nine years ago, and while it may have come sometime after the walk I had with Etta this morning, I believe that today, somewhere better than earth, a father was taking a similar walk with a child who was new to his environment.

Maybe my grandpa and my uncle covered a little over a mile on their walk together in the next world. Perhaps there was music playing softly. Maybe they were both shedding some tears reminiscing about the time they spent together on earth and sharing stories about the pride they have in their grandchildren. Maybe they looked at the scenery of wherever they are...trees, snow, ice, plants, etc. I bet my grandpa told some stories about the neighborhood, city or world that my uncle was going to need to adjust to, but that my grandpa had spent the last nine years becoming acquainted with. I believe my grandpa knew where to go and that my uncle was depending on him to help him get around.

And furthermore, I believe that they both have found their ways back home. I believe that my uncle has had a chance to meet his Father, his God. Maybe my grandpa reintroduced them.

Even though I didn't have regular contact with Jimmy, I'll miss him. 

I hope they enjoyed their walk with each other as much as I enjoyed mine with Etta.

And in 100 years, I hope to take a similar walk with Etta.

Dear God, Please Help

Editors Note: Belief in God is a personal choice. I have friends who don't share that choice with me. I love them and respect them. This post centers on God. 

I've started and deleted this blogpost a dozen times tonight. I've written paragraphs. And I've deleted those paragraphs. I've cried. I've mourned. I've looked through photo slideshows. I've read articles. I've watched videos.

And yet, I can't figure out how to put my emotions into words. A Utah Jazz beat writer, Jody Gennesy, wrote a wonderful piece on the Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy, and I echo every single one of his sentiments.

Then, as I learned more about the tragedy in Connecticut this afternoon, my thoughts turned to my daughter. My thoughts turned to the little six-month old blessing that sleeps in the room next to me. My mind wandered to her smile. Her laugh. Her cries. Her eyes. Her hands.

I longed to hug her. I needed to hold her. I needed to see her.

I thought of those that I love dearly. I thought of my nieces who were on an airplane coming to visit. I thought of my nephews. I thought of my nephew who is due this week. I thought of the world he was coming to. I thought of the phone call I had earlier in the day with my friend Cora--a kindergartner herself. She asked for my address so she could mail a letter to our family dog. I gave her my address. She said she loved me. I told her I loved her too.

I thought of her sister, Penny. I smiled.

I thought of our friends, Olivia and Hannah--both elementary school children. I thought about their families. I thought about how much I enjoy their visits. I thought of all my friends with young children. My friends who take so much pride in their children's accomplishments. My friends whose eyes light up when talking about their kids or their nieces or their nephews.

I finished work. Got in my car. Drove to my mother's home eagerly--to pick up Etta. I fought back tears pulling into the driveway. I fought back tears walking to their door. And I fought back tears as she reached for me when I walked in the room.

I held her. Kissed her. Hugged her. Laughed with her. Smiled with her.

I thought about how she wasn't aware of what happened across the country.

Then, I thought about how she was one person I know who has more insight to where these young shooting victims now were.

Then I thought about God. Certainly He was pained as these young children were taken from their families in such a senseless act of violence. Certainly He wept. Certainly He hurt. He had to have put His hands to His face as these children's lives were cut short. He had to have been in pain as He watched another one of His creations exercise agency in such a heinous way.

Then I thought about His reunion with each of those children. I thought about Heaven's newest additions. I thought about God meeting each child with a hug. A kiss. And a smile.

I acknowledge God's hand in so many things in my life and in the lives of those I love. I think He loves to help His children. I think He helps His children all the time. I think He is there even when I'm not seeking Him out.

Then I stared at a blank page and composed a letter. A letter to God. A request for continued help.

Dear God, 

Please help. 

Please help those families whose homes feel empty tonight. Please help those mothers and fathers who have one less tucking in to do tonight. One less bedtime story to read tonight. One less set of teeth to remind they need brushing. One less goodnight kiss. 

Please help their hearts. Please help their spirits. Please help. 

Please help us all put aside our differences. Please help us all mourn together. Comfort each other. Smile at each other. Help each other. Love each other. Be there for each other. Be tolerant of each other. Be friends. 

Please help us recognize our blessings. Please help us take nothing for granted. Please help. 

Please help our society come together. Please help our leaders. Please help our future. Please help. 

Please help, 

Me

"Don't Give Up, Don't Ever Give Up."

"Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It can not touch my mind. It can not touch my heart. And it can not touch my soul." -Jim Valvano-

This evening as I was sitting downstairs with Annie and our nearly permanent house guest Tyson (who we love), I saw that the Monday Night Football crew was reminding their viewers that this week was Jimmy V Cancer Research Week and I instantly thought of one of the most stirring speeches and moments I've ever heard and seen--a speech that makes me literally weep when I watch it.

Lots of emotions run through my mind when I think of this speech, and I don't really know where to start when I think about writing them all down.

I think of a very sweet co-worker/friend who is taking on cancer right now and she's giving it everything she has. She's fighting so hard.

I think of some of my best friends who I know are struggling with an array of things in their lives. I love these people like family and I hurt when they hurt--even if I don't always show it.

I think of those I know that have lost little ones in recent times, and who continue to be examples to me of never giving up.

I think of my family.

I think of Etta.

Then, I think of this quote from Valvano. "Don't give up, don't ever give up."

While I'm not battling many of the things my close friends and family are or have, I still have daily battles in my mind and my moments of giving up on certain things seem more and more frequent.

And it takes a quote and a speech like this to help me keep perspective. Valvano delivered a speech at the 1993 ESPY Awards that has created a legacy. The entire speech can be found here, and if you find yourself with 11-12 minutes, I suggest sitting down and watching the speech in full.

But if you only have a couple minutes, then please watch this two minute clip as people remember that moment and some of the most inspiring lines ever delivered from a podium are shared (if it doesn't play embedded here, click the YouTube icon to watch it in YouTube where it will work). 

If you aren't familiar with Jim Valvano, please visit the website for more information on the inspiring coach and his foundation.

In the full speech, Valvano gives three suggestions that every one should do every day.

1. Laugh-I love that the first suggestion he gives to everyone is to laugh. This is a man who would die less than two months after giving this speech. A man who knew that there would be no cure in his lifetime, but who wanted a cure so badly for future generations. A man who stared death in the face. And he laughed daily. It was the first suggestion he gave to people.

Today, I walked in the house after work, put my keys on the table and turned around to a smiling Etta playing on her toy and watching me. I laughed. And not a boisterous or out of control laugh. It was a simple laugh, but it was a real laugh. A genuine laugh. It was the kind of laugh that I believe Valvano was suggesting we have each day. Annie walked in the room and Etta lit up, like she always does around Annie, we both laughed real laughs.

2. Think-Valvano said that everyone should spend some time in thought each day. I wonder what my thoughts would be like if  I was faced with his situation or my co-worker/friend's situation. How would I react in my mind? I believe that Valvano's moments of thoughts were clear and I know my co-worker/friend finds absolute clarity in her thoughts.

After laughing with Etta post-work. I stared at her. I ran my hand through her hair. I tickled her neck and squeezed her cheeks. And I thought. I thought real hard. I thought about the kind of dad I currently am and the kind of dad I want to be. I thought about providing for her. I thought about my career. I thought about where I was going. I thought about what our relationship will be like as she grows older. I thought about how I can ensure that relationship is strong. And for the first time all day, I thought about NOT giving up. It's so easy for me to give up these days at work. It's so easy for me to quit fighting that sometimes the thoughts of giving up can cause me to be lethargic and depressed, quite frankly. But when I sat there with Etta, I realized that giving up is simply not an option. Regardless of my state of mind at work, church or whatever, giving up is not an option. It wasn't an option for Valvano and it's not an option for me. It can't be.

3. Have your emotions moved to tears-Valvano suggested that everyone cry every day. He suggested that we all find something that moves our emotions to tears. At first I thought how easy it must have been for him to find something that causes his emotions to move to tears when staring death in the eye. But I don't think his physical status had anything to do with his emotions being moved to tears.

A couple of my really good friends pride themselves on not crying. However, I've seen them both cry at different times over the last little while. They may not know it or have realized it, but their moments of emotions moving them to tears triggered my emotions that, at some point, moved me to tears, and I'm thankful to them for that. I truly think Valvano knew that when our emotions are moved to tears, it's not always only a good thing for us--but for those around us. The other night Annie was telling me about a lady she knows who has a baby grandchild that is really struggling physically and is in and out of the ICU. Annie's emotions were moved to tears because of gratitude for Etta's well-being. This caused me to tear up. And I think it caused us both to offer a silent thanks for our little girl.

After laughing and thinking while sitting next to Etta this evening, my emotions moved me to tear up (literally, how could they not? Look at her!). I caught myself before the water works completely set in, but I wish I wouldn't have. I wish I would have let the tears flow. There were a variety of reasons for my emotions being moved to tears and I should have let them move. The overwhelming reason was Etta. She brings so much happiness to our home. She's everything.

I'm so thankful to have come across the Jim Valvano speech again. I watch it at least once a year, usually during this Jimmy V Week, and each time I watch it, I resolve to have more resolve, and I needed that today.

Sometimes I just want to hug my friends or family that I know are going through some difficult times in their respective lives. Other times I want to shake them violently and literally grab their eye lids and open them (I realize that the latter is not a good approach).

Then I realize that perhaps, at times, they want to do the same thing to me. Perhaps at times, they feel that I've given up. And sometimes, maybe they're right.

I think what I need to do is think of Jimmy V. Look myself in the mirror. Hug myself as I go through difficult times. And, if needs be, shake my face violently and literally grab my eye lids and open them to all the blessings I have.

"Don't give up, don't ever give up."

Don't Take Etta's Future Away

If you know me very well, you know that no one enjoys a bit or a joke or a sarcastic comment more than me. I list these things as hobbies. So I joke about things a lot--including politics in my comedy special, "That's the Democrats for Ya" (edited and narrated by Tyson Camp). I shouldn't think I'm that funny...but I do. :)

For our election night festivities, we went to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner--where Etta passed on the apps and cheesecake and opted for an Enfamil-filled bottle.

I've watched Etta when we've gone to restaurants and malls. No one gets love of all people more than Etta. She smiles at everyone--and she doesn't care what their race, religion, sexual preference, political party affiliation or whatever is. She just wants to make them smile...and I think there's a lot to learn from that--even if she is just five months old.

But, all joking aside, I was actually bothered tonight with the conclusion of the election...and I'm not referring to the outcome. I'm not referring to Ohio, Virginia, Florida or any state. I'm not referring to the candidates at all. I'm not even referring to the stupid celebrities speaking out in favor or against the reelection of Obama (let it be known that I despise celebrities in general and I especially despise them when they insert themselves into politics so flippantly and wrecklessly).  I'm referring to the people in my own neighborhood and communities. I'm referring to the people who damn the whole the world from an election. I find these people a lot more dangerous than any politician.

Do I think that President Obama deserved another shot at fixing our country? No, I don't. Do I think that he will lead our country back to economic stability better than Mitt Romney? I don't know. Did I think Romney has the tools and experience and leadership to bring us back economically? Yes, I did.

And I voted for Romney. I voted for Romney because he spoke of bipartisanship. He spoke of reaching across the aisles and working together, both parties, to accomplish great things. And that's why I voted for him.

Do I support President Obama now that the election is over? Absolutely. 100%. I hope and pray now that he too will use a bipartisanship approach to work and bring our country along to where it needs to be. One man is not the answer. It's a collaborative and cooperative approach that will bring us back, and that's what I hope happens and what I think can happen if pride and egos are set aside from both parties.

Here's why I refuse to accept the reelection of President Obama as such a miserable thing: Because my little girl has a lot of living left to do. She has a lot of potential. She's earned the right to have a dad that is supportive of the country she lives in. And you can say "but Kyle, the national deficit will continue to grow under Obama, etc." To which I say "ok, so what?"

What am I going to do about that now? Guess what? Regardless of who won tonight's election, I am getting up at 5am to make a bottle and change her diaper. Regardless of whether Obama or Romney lead our country, I'm responsible for making sure Etta is safe and warm. Don't take Etta's future away from her by damning the whole world because one man was reelected. You don't have to agree with Obama or the reelection of Obama...there's plenty of things about the last four years that concern me. But they don't concern me enough to start freaking out about Etta's national deficit. Right now, all Etta needs to worry about is her next bottle.

I can't stand the ney-sayers and people who are willing to chalk the next four years up to the worst in our country and to tout that the world is ending. My world just begun. Five months ago. It's not ending. Not in our home.

We'll continue to evolve and adjust to whatever is thrown our way--and we'll continue to support America along the way. Why would I lose faith in America at this point? It's too exhausting. I stood next to Etta's crib tonight and smiled. I didn't care about 16, 20, 25 trillion dollars or whatever the debt is or will be. I just cared that she was breathing. I just cared that she was smiling. I just cared that she was here, in my house and my family.

Tough times may come and if they do, fine, we'll handle it. Yes, there are things that will affect Etta and our family, I recognize that. And those issues are important and I wouldn't begin to mark them irrelevant.  But that's ok. I'd be fooling myself if I didn't think we'd ever have to overcome any obstacles at all regardless of who our President was.

I want Etta to live in a country of people that work together to make decisions. Gay or straight, black or white, Republican or Democrat, Christian or Atheist, I want Etta to see people working together. I want her to see gracious losers and dignified winners. I want her to see winners welcome losers and together continue to build a country worth living in--which I still believe we have, Obama or NO-Bama (see what I did there?).

Don't take Etta's future away just because we have a reelected leader.

Pumpkins, Politics, and Perfection (And Garth From Wayne's World)

Editor's Note: I should mention that in no way do I find the three subjects in this blogpost title related at all...particularly the politics and perfection. 

Pumpkins

I've never really cared for Halloween much. In fact, the last Halloween I really remember getting dressed up for and participating in must have been 1993 or 1994. I was Garth, from Wayne's World--which looking back on should have won some type of 'best costume award' from the church in Bountiful that was throwing a Halloween party. But, instead, I grabbed the microphone mid-party, asked for everyone's attention and provided a very Garth-like "Scchhhwwiinngg", complete with the famous body gesture.

The party stopped. I put the microphone down and carried on with the activities--only to find out later what a faux pas this really was.

However, this Halloween I've been a little bit more excited--because of my very own little person to decorate unbeknownst to her and laugh and be entertained. While she won't be a character from a Lorne Michaels movie, she will be Repunzel and it will be adorable.

The other day we took a walk, the three of us, to a nearby pumpkin sale and purchased a few pumpkins for our porch. We threw little E up on the table in her bumbo and began carving the pumpkins. You'll see from the two videos below, just how insanely funny she found this to be (of course, Annie's antics aren't on video, but they would be reason enough for a great laugh).

The second video is where she really picks up the pace with her laughter and it was at this moment that I realized that I could rally behind this whole Halloween thing. Pumpkins will always mean a little something more to me now. :)

Politics

I generally hate politics and generally feel like most candidates are more concerned with themselves than they ever will be for me or my family.

However, this year, I've had some other thoughts along with my usual cynicism. I've been extremely grateful that Etta will grow up in a country where she does have the luxury of freedom--regardless of what politicians do.

Besides, it's been kind of nice this year during the debates and political ads that run relentlessly on television...Etta and I have been able to do something together during them all--vomit.

Perfection

I think a lot about perfection. Almost too much. In fact, you could say that I am perfect when it comes to thinking about perfection.

If you know me, you know just how imperfect I am (calm down...it's true. I'm sorry if this is a surprise to any of you). But I think about my imperfections all the time--to a fault, I think.

Truly, I preach to other people that they should give themselves some slack at times. That they should understand their imperfections can be a blessing and that they can learn from them. But when it comes to me, I don't afford myself the same benefit for some reason...instead, I just beat myself up for them (another blog post for another day my friends).

Where I'm really going with this is that even with all my imperfections, every day I am able to hold something that is perfect. I'm able to look into the eyes of perfection. I'm able to shake the hands of perfection. I'm able to tickle the legs of perfection. Kiss the cheeks of perfection. Rub noses with perfection. Feed perfection. Hug perfection. Smile at perfection. Cry happy tears at perfection. And of course, that's little E. She's perfect.

I was watching her earlier today while I laid beside her next to her floor toy thing (which she loves!), I watcher her blink. I watched her eyes move side to side. I watched her grab for the toys and kick her legs. I watched perfection operate and it made me happy. I don't anticipate that I'll ever know the joys of what it's like to feel perfection in oneself, but I know the joys of watching perfection every day.

And that's what I've learned from pumpkins and what no politician in the world can take away from me.

Two Guys I Don't Know

I didn't know Border Patrol agent Nick Ivie (although I know his mother quite well).

I don't know famous mountain climber, outdoorsman, and inspiration for the movie "127 hours", Aron Ralston (although I like to think that after working closely with him while he was the keynote speaker for our Nu Skin convention last week, I can say I know him...right???).

I don't think Nick Ivie knew Aron Ralston at all either--but both men had a big impact on me in very different ways last week...and in very real ways.

Basically, the chain of events began on Tuesday, October 9 when I received a phone call from the UCCU Center at Utah Valley University--the venue that we were using for our 2012 Nu Skin Convention.

My contact at UVU was calling to ask me if Nu Skin would be able to change our schedules around a little bit to accommodate the memorial and funeral service for Agent Nick Ivie--who was killed in action down on the Arizona/Mexico border.

There were several other phone calls made, I'm sure, and I'm happy to know that both Nu Skin and our vendor, Webb AV were willing to put things off for a short time to accommodate the memorial on Thursday, October 11.

Webb AV had set our stage up on Tuesday and Wednesday and when I showed up for a technical rehearsal on Wednesday afternoon, I was surprised to see a funeral rehearsal taking place instead.

I parked in the back lot of the venue and when I got out of the car I heard bagpipes playing from inside the arena. I walked in and found more than a dozen Border Patrol agents rehearsing the proceedings for the next day's funeral.

The bagpipes were leading a band in the arena before practicing their exit. The pallbearers were rehearsing their walk and how they would carry Agent Ivie's casket into the arena and how they were going to exit the arena.

I took a seat several rows up in the bleachers and took my notebook out to start working on some stuff during their rehearsal. I was immediately drawn to the rehearsal. I was quickly touched by what I saw. I put my notebook away and sat there quietly. Alone in the arena while these agents rehearsed the funeral of one of their own. I sat there watching them fight their emotions. I sat there with my own emotions.

On the screens on the stage was a slideshow of photos of Agent Ivie--ranging from when he was young to his days in training with the Border Patrol to his days as an agent to his time spent with his beautiful family.

Pictures of him and his daughter flashed across the screen and I could tell through just those photos the type of love he had for his daughter. I sat alone in the arena bleachers, with tears filling my eyes. I had to take deep breaths to keep from losing it. I had to wipe the tears away.

I didn't even know Nick. I never met him. But I know exactly how he felt about his daughter--because I feel that about my daughter. I resolved right there to always love my little Etta as much as I can each day. I resolved right there that I never want her to wonder if her dad loved her. I want her to always know how much I love her. I want her to never have to think about it--just like I could tell Nick's daughter felt.

If something should happen to me, I want E to have no doubt that she was loved by her daddy.

The funeral rehearsal ended and our convention moved on. Moved on to Friday night--where Aron Ralston came to speak.

Aron was great to work with through his rehearsal (led by the great Shelley Gardner) and through his time at the venue where I got to work closely with him by helping the great Jill McMullin (both ladies are legends in the events world!).

I stood with Aron right before he went on stage and I had the chance to talk to him one-on-one. He was very kind and he spoke with such resolve. In the middle of a story, his intro finished and he headed out to stage.

I had the chance to sit in front of the house for a change during his speech and he continued to speak with great resolve. Resolve for each of us to remove our own boulders in our lives. Resolve for us to find what really matters in our lives. Resolve for each of us to make the best of each day.

I sat there, in the same arena where I sat for Nick's funeral rehearsal, this time with thousands of people, and my emotions were the same. I wanted to do what's best for E. I want to help her remove any boulders she'll face in her life. I gained a perspective that I hope I can remember forever.

It's rare when a convention or event ends and I feel motivated, but after the week's events I did. I was motivated to be the best dad I can be for E. I was motivated to love her unconditionally.

While I'll probably never hang out with Aron Ralston again and while Nick Ivie never knew who I was, I'm grateful for both men. I'm grateful for the opportunity both men's lives afforded me to reflect on my own life.


Maybe someday I'll be able to thank them both. In person.

A Month For A Cause

The past two-and-a-half months have been a whirlwind of emotion--there's no doubt about that. Each day I make at least five requests of Annie, my mother, my mother-in-law or whoever is around Etta that day to send me pictures.

Each day, I anticipate work ending more and more. I can't wait to get home to see this little girl. I can't wait to hold her. To feed her. To change her. To walk with her. And to love and be loved by her.

I have never felt a sense of responsibility and pride in another human more than I do in Etta. I've never felt the desire to protect and defend another person more than her--and I'm reminded every day just how special, precious, and significant her life is in my hands.

I hope I can an effective dad and friend to her.

Today, I saw a Facebook friend of mine, who has recently lost a child,  post a link about children suffering from cancer--namely those children that have been diagnosed with or were taken by Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma. I clicked on the link about myriads of medical professionals who fight daily to defeat this disease and, as I'm prone to do on Facebook, ended up clicking three or four other links that eventually led me to a a series of slideshows that featured children that have suffered from various forms of cancer--including DIPG.

My heart broke.

I've learned that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, and it's something that's been on my mind for the first few days of the month.

I look up to those parents, family members, and friends of those children that have suffered and fell victim to these diseases. With every click I made on the slideshow and with every reveal of the next child who has suffered, been diagnosed with or even died from this disease, I thought of my little Etta.

I would do anything for her. I would fight for her. I would easily die for her. I would give up everything to keep her safe, and it breaks my heart to think of parents who feel like I do and had to watch their children go through difficult situations and trials.

And while the parents are proud of their children for fighting hard--in many cases to the very end, I know that those children that have passed are somewhere better--extremely proud of their parents for how hard their parents fought during those times.

I resolved to help more. I don't know how, but I will find a way to help.

I started with this website, http://www.dipg.org/, and I am hoping to find a way to be more involved in helping end this. If you can donate anything, I know it would be greatly appreciated and used with the utmost care and attention to helping cure these diseases.

This song is by J.R. Richards and it is an amazing message and a beautifully shot video and I think about it often when I look through the pictures and videos of those kids that have gone too soon, but who haven't left us for good.

My little Etta is a healthy, growing little girl, and I won't take that for granted. I will take advantage of all the time I'm afforded to be with her and I want to help other parents, who are struggling with these diseases in their homes, to have more time with their children.