Too Cute for Words

I am moving

to Baltimore very soon. I had planned to wait until the end of summer and go before grad school starts, but the plan now is to drive across country, arriving in Baltimore around the 15th of December. I feel great about this and I've received nothing but support for my decision, even though it will be difficult to say goodbye. A whole lot is happening now also, and the time before me feels as though it will shrink and disappear like a dark highway seen from a moving car. I'm working on Christmas presents so I can leave them here rather than ship them from the east coast. I'm doing the cooking for Thanksgiving this year--when have I not?? Then I'm going to Idaho with family right after Thanksgiving to attend and speak at a funeral for one of the dearest women in the world--my mother-in-law--a bittersweet experience. When I get home I have to pack--books, china and crystal, clothing; get the car tuned up and ready; decide on which things to take with me and which things to leave for the moving company; and there are a few people that I must see in person before I leave. Have I forgotten anything? Oh yeah, I really, really want to weed my garden one more time and leave it looking satisfied and happy. My niece Jasmine is planning to take it over after I go. Thanks, sweetheart! I can't think of anything that would make me happier.

In case anyone is wondering, I'm also seeing my oncologist right before I leave. My Kaiser will transfer to the Baltimore/D.C. Kaiser area. Woo-hoo! I'll continue with health care but as far as I'm concerned, the cancer is gone and it's not coming back.

My 76 year-old mother has decided to be my traveling companion from Utah--about 1/3 of the way there. It's been many years since I've had Christmas with my Mom. Her presence in Baltimore will make four generations under one roof. With the passing of my mother-in-law, I realize how precious the time with my own mother is. Mom can be a hoot but I've learned that when it comes to her, expect anything. Time stops. Expectations drop. It's a different world and I just go with the flow. At any rate, Mom and I will be making memories. (Just last night she told me about a staged food fight she and my dad had while they were entertaining guests! Forty-nine years old I had never heard that story until now.) I'm going to let AAA map our route for us, but maybe we'll meander a bit and stop in the old neighborhoods in Kansas City and/or St. Jo. I'm also hoping to blog during our trip, at least a time or two.

Bottom line is that I really do feel led to Baltimore by the hand of the Lord. This is not a move that I'm taking lightly. Many unknowns await me and sometimes I have these mini anxiety attacks where I stop what I'm doing and concentrate on breathing...inhale...exhale...Most of the time though, I have the feeling that I'll enjoy many new and wonderful experiences. Please don't be sad. I'll be back often for visits. After all, my little Rolan is here as are my sons and many others I hold dear. Speaking of Rolan, I copied this photo from Michele's and Clayton's blog so you can see how fabulously cute my newest grandson is...

A True Story

One evening in the small rural town of Burley, Idaho, Mother and Dad were at home and Dad was listening to BYU sports on the radio. It was after supper and their five children had long since married and moved away. Mother didn't want to interrupt the game and besides, she wasn't even sure what was happening, so she waited awhile before telling her husband about the pain in her arm and chest. Needless to say, they made a mad dash to the local hospital where the doctors determined that Mother was having a heart attack. She was life-flighted to Salt Lake City, Utah.

While Dad and their daughter, Beverly, drove south in the car toward Salt Lake, Mother felt her spirit leaving her body. She was in a white mist and moving. She knew she was going and she prayed. She didn't try to bargain. She simply told Heavenly Father that she wasn't ready to go yet. She told him that she wanted to spend more time with her family and she trusted that he heard her and would answer. She was 72 years old then and God answered her prayers. He gave her another twenty years together with us.

I've been trying to think of how my life would have been different if Mother had died then instead of now.

I wouldn't have had the pleasure of introducing mother to the women in my ward as "my good friend, and my mother-in-law."

We wouldn't have had the joy of having Mother and Dad living right over the back fence every winter during tree farm season, letting the children play and take turns eating dinner with them.

We wouldn't have enjoyed going to ward parties together, having family home evening, or just visiting in the living room in the evenings after the sun went down.

We wouldn't have pictures from the year we made old-fashioned tree garland from popcorn and cranberries.

I wouldn't have heard Dad bear his testimony of the Book of Mormon, sitting on a stool in the out building where he read the Book of Mormon cover to cover in between customers shopping for the perfect tree. It was the first and only time he ever said anything about it and I'll never forget the feeling I had, hearing his words.

If mother had died twenty years ago, she wouldn't have felt the influence of the holy ghost which prompted her to call us and beg us to tell Brandon not to drive across Nevada at night--a premonition that went unheeded. Such is the power of agency--but that's a different story.

They wouldn't have watched their grandchildren grow into responsible, kind, and loving adults with children of their own.

Mother wouldn't have heard Alyssa and Serena sing to her during a visit when they were students at BYU, something she enjoyed immensely and spoke of often.

If Mother had died twenty years ago, we wouldn't have her life story which she wrote and added to occasionally until it was pushing thirty pages and which we now can draw on as a source of strength.

Mostly, if mother had died twenty years ago, we wouldn't have enjoyed the blessings of a woman whose entire life revolved around loving her family and keeping her covenants with God. Her faith that God would answer her prayer became a great blessing to all of us. Mother, we love you and we'll miss you so much.

Mother, Oh Mother

I'm feeling a combination of sadness, anticipation and wonder right now. Mother's time is drawing to a close and I weep as I write this, even as I rejoice that she and Dad will finally be together again. Mother has said repeatedly that she doesn't know why the Lord has kept her here so long. I don't have an answer for her, but for our sakes, I'm glad she has lived these many years and I feel blessed every time I think about her influence in my life.

I was one day of 16 when I got married. I had met Mother only a few times and we really didn't know each other at all. I know that she and Dad were heartbroken when they got into Larry's room one night and found the note he'd left telling them of our whereabouts and our plans. They went to see the bishop who told them there were a lot of things worse than getting married. Mother and Dad decided right then that they would support our decision. Surely they must have worried and wept and wondered, especially since our decision eliminated the hopes they had for their son to serve a mission and marry a nice Mormon girl. It wasn't long before I became that girl, but in the meantime and forever after we never felt anything from them but support.

The evening of our wedding (we were in Salt Lake City after a fruitless but mad dash to Las Vegas) Larry called his parents. They both got on the phone. Mother said to me, "You are our daughter now and we love you." I felt something touch my heart and I think that right then I began to love her in return. Now that I have grown children of my own, I marvel at Mother's and Dad's commitment to stand by us no matter what. They spent the rest of their lives teaching by example and showing us all what real love is all about.

Hanging Out

I just spent the last several days at Marty's and Sheila's in Burlingame. Every night Marty lit a fire for us, either in the living room or the outside barbeque. Dinner was sheer pleasure sitting down together in the dining room with big band or jazz playing in the back ground. I love that family. They have been through hell the past year but seem to be coming back to a new normal now that Andrew has finished chemo and he's finally eating and putting on weight again. He is both precious and precocious.The other night he said, "Mom, I think I'm coming back!" He loves nothing more than to "prep" for dinner by washing and cutting vegetables, setting the table, and helping to serve the food. Family mealtime is really important to that little guy. When he's in charge, we sit where he directs. Samantha is an amazing young woman also. She works, attends jr. college, saves money, and has good relationships with everyone in her family. She is fun to talk with and has a strong element of common sense about her.

Andrew is a fabulous artist. The family room wall is covered in art that Andrew created. Most of it looks like it came from a gallery, honestly. Some pieces are painted while others are collaged and still others are 3-dimensional. Yesterday we shopped at Michael's together, picking up scrapbooking paper, stickers, clay, clear glass ornaments and other supplies. I'm on an art kick myself, I guess because of the holidays, but also because I discovered through an art class recently at the Wellness Center (cancer related) that art can be very therapeutic.

This space of time

My main problem right now is neuropathy, a debilitating condition that's a result of the toxicity of chemo. I clump around like a little old lady and wait and wait for the day when this is all behind me. My feet burn and hurt constantly. My balance sucks. Night time is the worst. But during the day I'm not unaware of how much healing has yet to take place. It's frustrating. One of the chemo nurses told me it would take "at least a year" before my feet are healed. I'm hoping it's much sooner than that. In the meantime, I read a lot, sleep, surf the internet, watch tv, go for the occasional errand in the car...I can do a little shopping but any weight on my feet makes the pain worse. I have an appointment next week to see an acupuncturist in the city. And every day, and night too, I'm alone with my thoughts, my prayers, and my faith and patience, which are both being tested...thank goodness for my Telly who calls every single day. Only when I'm talking with her do I remember that this condition is temporary, even though it will probably not be over anytime soon. In the meantime, I'm making plans to move to Baltimore and resume my life as soon as my feet and the weather will let me make the drive.

Rebounding

OK. So I'm back on track. I have some work to do emotionally, still, but I'm beginning to see this experience with cancer as a spiritual halt, a time to reflect, to regroup, to decide what I want, to examine my relationships with my family and friends, with the Savior, with my Heavenly Father...Are they where they should be? Do I have any messes to clean up? Words left unsaid? Behaviors that need correcting? Am I taking care of myself the way I should? Is it part of the plan that we live our lives at such a pace? That we're so busy 'producing' that we miss the basics? Sometimes I think all we produce is chaos or more drama. Yes, of course, I have dreams yet unfulfilled, but I have decided that my relationships with others, both here and beyond the veil, are the only things that really matter. All the other 'things' we stress about--bills, insurance, accumulation of wealth, retirement, tomorrow, and what ifs and whys and on and on--most of those take care of themselves, or they're not worth the energy we spend fretting. I've missed a lot of todays by worrying about tomorrows instead.

I will need to come back to this post occasionally, as it's much easier to talk about zen and making changes than to actually do it. But I have had a second chance at life and I hope to make the very best of it. So until next time.................PS...my hair is growing back in! Now doesn't that sound weird? How does hair grow back in? Baby head fuzz...it's growing out!

The real me

is hurting physically and emotionally. A wise relative sent a sweet email this week; she had noticed that I haven't blogged lately and was concerned about me. I appreciate the care. The truth is, that when I'm not blogging, I'm usually down. And when I'm down, I tend to pull away, at least from most of the world. I will make an effort to blog even when I don't feel my best. At least you'll know you're getting the real me!

Lately I feel as though life is happening around me, and to me, and I don't have much say about how it goes one way or the other. (I can hear Madelyn arguing with me now.) I'm not saying she isn't right. I'm saying that these are the feelings I'm dealing with lately. My oncologist gave me a clean bill of health recently. If my feet were in better shape I'd have to ask myself if I really had cancer at all. The effects of the chemo have been harsh and somewhat debilitating. But what doesn't show on the outside is what it's done to my heart. I think I need to explore that now. I was so busy overcoming surgery and going to chemo and overcoming the effects of chemo, I didn't have the time to figure out what it all means. I know that for some people it wouldn't matter. They pick up with their lives and go on. I'm not like that. The artist in me needs to examine the minutiae. I'm no stranger to depression and I can usually ward it off pretty well, but I began to despair last week when my thoughts began to linger on Sylvia Plath. Her poetry. Her three children. Her suicide by putting her head in an oven. All the trials I used to worry about having to face, I was never asked to. But the ones I've had to face felt hand picked just for me as far as pushing my faith to its limit. Each time I faced a big trial I thought I might die of grief, but I didn't. I suppose looking back now at what it means to have cancer maybe I'll learn something new to add to what I learned from the other trials. I certainly don't want to say, like my friend, that I'm the same, even after all this. Truly, that would be a waste.