Spill #1

On warm summer mornings, when the ground smells like wet cement and freshly cut grass, Travis used to wake me up to go fly fishing on the Weber River. We'd pack a few sandwiches, make sure there was some green Extra gum in the glove compartment, and load the fishing gear into the truck. I guess I'm not really sure why Trav let me tag along; ten-year-old bean pole girls don't exactly make significant contributions to the sport of fishing. But those morning trips made me feel special and needed.

I remember numerous occasions when we'd have to cross the river or stand in the middle of the current to fish. Trav would tell me to grab the tackle box and climb on his back. "Hold on to me tight, Ashley", he would say, "Hold on tight." With his little sister clutching onto his back, he would slowly glide his weighter-clad feet into the rushing current. I don't remember watching his fly dance across the water as he cast his line back and forth. As we stood in the middle of the rushing water, I closed my eyes and kept repeating the words: "Hold tight to your brother, Ashley." "Hold on tight."

On April 18th, Trav and I sat in Kearstin's living room and talked for hours. We didn't talk about fishing, but we talked about "holding tight" - holding tight to important things when we really aren't feeling like it. He comforted me by telling me about his realization over the past several years of how treacherous life's waters without God really are. His story and testimony of what it means to really hold tight to our older Brother, Jesus Christ helped me to start feeling peace again. I needed that conversation so badly that day.

Five days later, we received a phone call informing us that Travis was in the ICU. A former Major League Baseball player accidentally threw a 70 mile per hour ball that hit Travis in the face. Travis immediately started having seizures before the ambulance could even arrive at the baseball field. They rushed him to the hospital and had him on life support for the first several hours. The next few days were unnerving for all of us as we waited to see whether his brain had been damaged from the accident. Dad and I sat with Travis throughout the night and tried to comfort him the best we could. Travis asked me to climb on his bed and sleep next to him. Tears streamed down my face as I snuggled up to him and prayed that my wonderful big brother would be okay. Hold on tight.

Travis is doing much better now. He went through reconstruction surgery to get his facial bones back in place, had dozens of stitches to sew his lips back together, and is now the proud bearer of braces (oh the joys). His experiences made me realize the remarkable power of the Atonement and the Savior's capacity to heal all of us, physically and most importantly, spiritually. Travis is doing well due to that wonderful healing power. I'm doing better because of it too.

Hold tight.