Firstborn Son

Once upon a time, a baby boy entered the world with a huge scowl upon his face. As his mother touched his hand, she knew that the world had changed forever. She was so in love with the little fellow, she spent every moment with him. She was completely enthralled with every smile, blink, movement. Every wrinkle in his tiny fingers, every sweet eyelash, every breath that the sweet boy took was miraculous.

He didn't stay little for very long! Born at only 6 pounds, by the time he was three months old, he was a hefty 20 pounds. And that was only the beginning. Nothing stood in his way. He grew and grew and grew. Always looking for the next adventure, this boy rarely stood still for more than a moment. His imagination fueled many games and wild fun. For example, his mother didn't allow toy guns, but that didn't stop him. He loved guns. When he was only three, he was playing outside (he loved being outdoors). When he came in the house, he excitedly showed his mother his new gun. He had found a stick (in Western Washington...in a yard FULL of sticks...)that was shaped EXACTLY like a pistol. For months, he toted that little "gun" around in his belt loops, put it safely under his pillow at night, set it next to his plate at dinner, and stuffed it in his pocket to take to church.

Life was a magical story to be lived completely. He taught himself to read when he was three and read everything he could get his hands on. He was chosen to be a narrator for the school program when he was only in the third grade. In the eight grade, he was reading and writing at a college level.

The little boy is now a full-grown man. He still has a fascination with weapons-- especially historical knives, swords, and armor. He still devours books, and life is still a magical adventure. And his mother was right...the world has changed forever.

Adventures yet await the boy. This year, he is in active preperations to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. His spirituality and faith in God are increasing by amazing amounts. He doesn't complain when his gifts include white shirts and ties, and his reading tastes are running toward the spiritual side.

And his mother is standing in the background watching her baby boy, now a man, preparing to leave home and go out into the world to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. She remembers when he was born, how tiny he was. She remembers how she prayed to preserve his life when he was terribly ill. He was unable to breathe and she begged God to let the little boy live. "I promise," she said, "I will do all in my power to make sure this child grows up to serve a mission and to be a righteous man. Please, if You'll just help him breathe..." And he took a breath.

And through all the wild adventures, God preserved the life of this amazing son. With his mission less than a year away, his mother is still doing all within her power to fulfill her promise to God, and God is still protecting and watching over His son.

Consider the Lilies - Mormon Tabernacle Choir

Lead Thou Me On

It's finally a new year. Since May of 2009, when my mom's cancer returned, nothing has been very joyous. Pretty much since then, I have just been putting one foot in front of another and feeling dazed at the atrocities of life. Since the turn of the year, however, I have been feeling refreshed and renewed. I haven't felt this optimistic in years.

I'm embarking on my last semester of school, and the implications of such an end are enormous. When I graduate in May, I will have been in school for seven years. Since I started part-time at the local community college and had so many Math credits to endure, it has been a very long journey indeed. All those years ago, I knew that it would take me a long time to earn my bachelor's degree, but I also knew that the time would go by regardless of whether I was in school or just sitting on my tookus. Now that those years are nearly at an end, I am so grateful to my Mom, my spouse, my sister, and my two amazing sons for supporting me and being my cheerleaders. The victory is bittersweet since my Mom passed away, and I can hardly bear the thought of graduating without her there, but it is a victory nevertheless.

When I first returned to school, I did it because my son would be leaving on an LDS mission when he was 19 (he was only 11 at the time) and I knew I'd need to be successfully salaried in a decent career in order to pay for such an adventure. Additionally, my Mom always told me that a woman should have an education, and my Dad was a firm supporter of college and education for all his children. I grew up knowing that college was essential. My parents always knew and expressed their desire for me to gain an education.

As I persevered in my education, the reasons for going changed. While I was still thrilled that I'd be able to help pay for my sons' missions, I began to see the classes as self-enriching and life-rewarding. I increased in my personal power and knowledge. I learned to love the journey.

Trust me, there have been so many times (especially since Mom died) when I weep and scream and hate going to class. I've had professors that seemed like 3-headed dragons. I felt frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed, and just plain miserable. And I still have a semester left so I'm sure those feelings are far from over! Through it all, there has been a strong push, a strength, a light leading me on. I'm no magical fairy, mind you, and I whole-heartedly attribute Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ for empowering me when I was wrung out and on the ground in tears.

And my Mom is still my cheerleader. I've had several sacred spiritual experiences that have confirmed to me her continued presence and support in my life.

It's all good, even when it seems like it's the end of the earth.

Thanksgiving is more than just a holiday; it is a place in the heart. In order to show love and establish peace, the feeling (and expression of) gratitude is essential. I have much to be thankful for this year, even though my precious mother is no longer here to share in this amazing holiday anymore.

Thanksgiving was always about FAMILY when I grew up. Sure, it was about food too, of course, but the food was just a symbol of the bounty we felt from being part of a family. It was a tremendous day for celebrating all that Heavenly Father had blessed us with.

In Eastern Idaho, where I grew up, winters were cold. Dad set the apple cider (in the gallon sized glass jugs) out in the snow. By the time we ate that afternoon, the cider was slushy, cold, crisp, and delicious. Additionally, each year our parents came to each child (all eight of us) and asked what special food we wanted included in the feast. One year, all I wanted was REAL whipped cream; and it was there!

I miss my Mom. She was the sparkle, the glow, the ba-da-boom in our family. She was funny, smart, loving, and energetic. Since she is gone, the family traditions must be altered a bit to accommodate the huge space she left behind.

There will never be another holiday the same.

Yet, my gratitude for her life, and my life, and her example affecting my life is bounteous.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.

gratitude and attitude

Joey dislocated and broke his kneecap on a camp-out 2 weeks ago. It's been a little difficult for me to focus on the gift and nevermind the gripes. The gripes are coming from me...not Joey. He is happy, in good spirits, and smiling all the time. He remains positive in the face of diversity. Such a great son; he teaches his mother lessons in gratitude and positive attitude. The recovery will be slow, 2 months, and physical therapy consists of a month more. The costs will be high even after insurance pays their part. Nevertheless, I have enjoyed hanging with my son and helping him. He is a wonderful joy.

Plugging Along

On April 15, 2010, my Mom left this world and went to the next. The past few months have been devastating and horrible as we all try to restructure our lives without her.

The grieving process for my Mom began quite some time ago, however, when she started chemo/rad and began to go quickly downhill.

Life moves forward, however, and I am still quite unsure how I manage to live every day without her. I have decided that nothing else in my life is hard, because that one thing has shown me what HARD really is.

The waves keep coming, and life keeps moving on. School is still in session for me, since I decided to take a summer class. Fall semester is rapidly approaching. I'm inviting as many people as I can to my graduation in may of '11, because I know my Mom won't be there smiling and crying and bustin' at the seams with pride and joy over her little girl finally graduating from college.

It just about kills me to consider that she won't be there.

I'm my Mama's girl, and she raised me to just keep on plugging away. So this is me...still plugging along.

True Love

While reading about intimacy in relationships for my homework, I found myself thinking constantly about my mother and father. They’ve been married for forty-six years. Six years ago, my mother was diagnosed with oral cancer. It was devastating news (she’d never smoked/drank/chewed). She endured two surgeries which cut away half of her tongue, all of the soft tissue inside her mouth, and three of her teeth on the right hand side. After the second surgery, the doctors prescribed her a special pill that suppressed the cancer at the cellular level. Although incredibly draining on her system, the medication worked, and the cancer went into remission. Unfortunately, as is often the case with cancer, it returned with a vengeance in May of 2009. Six months of chemotherapy and daily radiation treatments failed to eradicate the tumor. As a last resort, my Dad took her to Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City, Utah.

A world-renowned surgeon at the Institute, Jon Hunt, gave my Mom two options: radical surgery or awaiting death. My Mom and Dad chose the radical surgery. It was performed in January of 2010. For weeks and weeks, my vibrant, bouncy, AMAZING mother has been confined to Huntsman Institute Room #5506. Week after agonizing week, my dear, devoted father has not left her side. Patiently, with great care, he has learned to nurse her around the clock. A calm and patient man, he dislikes conflict and avoids it when possible. In defending and advocating for his bride, however, he was a giant in rendering her the best care available from every staff member. He stood by her bedside and refused to let anyone bully her. He slept on the small couch in her room, ate his meals in a chair beside her bed, and did his laundry in a small washroom just down the hall.

Intimacy in relationships doesn’t just mean physical gratification. It is love so deep that it transcends even cancer. My Dad left everything else behind; the care of their home, livestock, fields; his job; his friends, activities, hobbies. Caring for my Mom was all that mattered.

My mother is finally well enough to leave Huntsman Cancer Institute today. My father is driving her to a skilled nursing facility near their home to finish her recovery. He will be able to return home, finally, only twenty minutes from her location. She will be in the facility, near several of her children and a multitude of friends, for only a little while until her wound completely heals. The wound was a gaping hole encompassing her entire left cheek and part of her neck but has now healed to just a small hole needing temporary care.

Intimacy requires devotion, commitment, and emotional depth. During this ordeal, I have watched my Dad. I realized that everything in his life--all of the learning, skills, and knowledge he has gained--has been for this moment in their lives. There is an 80% chance that the cancer will come back sooner or later in the next five years. Regardless, the level of intimacy between the two of them has been altered forever. And we children have learned life lessons while watching this perfect example of intimacy play out before our eyes. How blessed I am to have such noble parents to set the example.

Pet Therapy Pleasures

As many of you know, I am involved with the Pet Therapy program at West Valley Medical Center in Caldwell. Three years ago, I went through the training with our black lab, Smokey. Last year, however, I retired her because she got liver disease from toxic trash dumped on the canal bank. We thought she was going to die. She didn't, but she is unable to visit at the hospital anymore since her stamina is diminished. This year, I decided that I really missed volunteering with Pet Therapy, and so I took my pug dog, Sally, through the program. She got her first introduction to it when we visited my Mom at the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City, Utah. That was in January. Since then, we have traveled a rewarding journey. Thursday March 25, we graduate from our training and, as soon as I get our Therapy Dogs, Inc. registration cards, we will be visiting patients and creating smiles. Last week during observed visits, we went into the ICU waiting room. It was full of people. When we walked in, I felt like the stress was so thick it could be cut with a knife. People were in tears and pain was etched on their faces and evident in their wringing hands. As the group of Therapy Dogs made their rounds, faces softened, hands petted dogs, and stress was relieved. In particular, one little girl of about 6 or 7 years was petting Sally. Then she stood up and started talking to Sally about visiting the hospital. Sally tipped her head back and forth as the little girl chatted. When the little girl saw Sally's tilted head, she clapped her hands to her cheeks and exclaimed, "She's listening to me!" It made her day to see that a little pug dog was listening to her.

As I mentioned earlier, my Mom is at Huntsman Cancer Center. She had surgery to remove the tumor in her throat that had not responded to chemo/rad. A few times, she nearly died. And I mean...she really was at the edge. At one point, I thought, as I left the hospital, that she would be gone when I went back in the morning. She has defied all odds, however, and is healing even after such a radical surgery. She cannot speak or eat, but she is spunky, sparkly, and still kicking around. The doctors are hopeful to release her to go home in a couple more weeks.

The gripe is that cancer and illness exist. The gift is that there is Pet Therapy to ease the pain and worry, and modern medical miracles which can oft times give us a little more time with our loved ones.