The Stars Are Still There

 

This past year has been one of healing, sorrow, peace, comfort and heartache. As I have waded through the varied emotions that are part of the grieving process, I have been so grateful for the peace that has descended when I needed it most. For the wonderful family members and friends who reached out when I needed a hug, a smile, or a good cry. It has been yet another mountain that I’m still climbing, one step at a time as my heart heals. Words do not adequately explain how a mother’s heart feels as a child suffers, and then courageously faces death. There was peace in knowing that our oldest son was ready when he left this mortal realm. As he quietly slipped away, I was privileged to be there at his side. I was there when he entered this mortal world, and there when he left. I sensed so many things that night, but the item that brought the most comfort was the feeling of joy, and the thought, “Mom, I don’t hurt anymore.” In an interesting coincidence, for the first time in the forty plus years that I have lived in our small Idaho town, we witnessed the Northern Lights later that same night. Many in our family joked about a dance party in heaven, since our son loved music and enjoyed dancing.

Though I miss Kris every day, there have been times when it feels like he is close. Those sacred moments bring peace as I continue forward. One day, I felt drawn to the piano that sits in our living room. I haven’t played it much during the past 2=3 years. Most of that time was spent in the hospital with our son as he did daily battle with cancer. Endless treatments, horrid screams of pain, nausea beyond anything I have ever seen, rotate in my mind and heart. And a few weeks ago, on that day I felt drawn to the piano, I had been plagued with painful memories of how Kris suffered. So I sat down to the piano and began plunking out a song that sounded familiar. I was amazed when it all came back in a rush, but I couldn’t remember the words. So I dug through my piano bench until I found the notation book that contained what I needed.

I play musical instruments by ear, an ability I inherited from a great-grandmother who used to play for the dances in her small community. Most in our clan find that we can play musical instruments and pick out songs. It is a wonderful gift, and yet a handicap when it comes to reading actual music, or trying to write out the songs that we write. Someday people will look through my notation book and shake their heads because it makes no sense to anyone, but me.

That notation book contained the song I was seeking. I didn’t realize why until I reread the words I had written years ago, after an experience that took place in our small Idaho town. Once again, I was looking to the heavens for comfort and answers to a challenge that was taking place in our lives at the time. Troubled, I went out onto our front porch and sat down to listen to the night sounds, something that usually soothes my heart when I’m hurting. That night, as I sat quietly, I was amazed by all of the stars that were glittering in the night sky. It seemed filled with radiant stars, everywhere I looked. Then, without warning, clouds moved in and quickly covered every star. I was stunned by how fast they had all disappeared. As I sat in shock, the strong thought penetrated my heart, “Are the stars still there?”

As an English major in college, I was taught to look for symbolism in everything around me. The symbolism of the lesson I learned that night struck deep within. It stayed with me for days, inspiring me to compose a song about that experience. These are the lyrics:

Are the Stars Still There

Lyrics & music by Cheri J. Crane

1^st verse: Dark were my thoughts, all around were storms of heartache & strife

All those tests that sometimes just go with life,

Mountains that seemed too steep to climb;

I walked outside, to clear my head and ask my Father, “Why?”

My inner peace had dissolved for a time,

Where was the faith that was mine?

Chorus:

Staring at the star-filled sky, my heart revealed its inner cry,

“Father, if You’re listening, help me know the reason why!”

A thousand tiny twinkling lights were covered, hidden from my sight,

Grey clouds veiling light that once had shone so bright,

Darkness seemed to fill the night as every star was veiled from sight,

Yet peace crept in my heart & comfort eased the black despair,

As the question came, “My child, my child, are the stars still there?”

2^nd verse: And now when dark thoughts come, and some nights seem too long,

I remember the words of this song, when everything seems to go wrong.

The answer to my prayer, the night I struggled with despair,

The night my Father heard my silent prayer--

And reminded me, the stars are always there!

Chorus:

Our Father’s love is always there, through layers of grief & care,

Hope is shining brightly through the clouds of dark despair,

A thousand tiny twinkling lights were covered, hidden from my sight,

Grey clouds veiling light that once had shone so bright,

Tho’ darkness seems to fill the night, and every star is veiled from sight,

Peace & love seep through to ease the black despair,

Remember the question, “My child, are the stars still there?”

As I played through the song I had written years ago, I realized I needed that message now, more than ever. The stars are indeed still there. Life is eternal, and continues on after this life is through. How important our family ties are, and the knowledge that we can be together forever when this life is through. Until that time comes, it is important to continue forward, make good choices, and treasure each day, knowing it is a gift from our Father in heaven.

Cancer Should Be a Four-Letter Word

I’ve been asked in recent weeks if I will ever write anything again. I have pondered doing so, but life has been a blur this past year. For those who don’t know me or my family well, it has been a year of supreme challenge. Our oldest son was diagnosed with Metastatic Gastric Cancer, stage 4 in January. He spent 4 months in a Utah hospital fighting for his life. I spent those 4 months praying, crying, laughing, and begging for a miracle as I stayed by his side. It tore my heart out to watch how our son suffered through radiation treatments, chemo, physical therapy and more tests than I care to remember. He went from being a strong, active young man, to someone who couldn’t even lift his arms, let alone walk. The cancer had morphed, skipping his organs (thank heavens) but it had attacked his entire skeletal frame. After his first PET scan, we were shown, highlighted in yellow, how much of his body was affected by this raging cancer. It went from his shoulders, down his entire spine, and into both legs. It didn’t help that we were told comforting things like, “He will likely live 3 months—there is just too much damage everywhere.” It was a dark time.

I can’t begin to describe how this mother’s heart shattered repeatedly as I watched my son suffer through indescribable pain each day. I will never forget how it felt to hear him scream as he struggled to survive the week he was in ICU, critically ill. But I also saw his determination grow each time he was told how limited he would be. In the beginning, they figured he would never walk again. We were shown a large electric wheelchair that they assumed would be the only way he would ever be able to move around. It took four people to help him move to a gurney that they then wheeled off for further testing/and/or radiation treatments. When they began talking about the care he would need when he returned home, I wondered how in the world we would be able to manage when he required so much help to move around.

The radiation treatments worked surprisingly well—his main oncologist called it “spot-welding.” With each treatment, he regained the ability to move his arms, and then his legs. By the end of his hospital stay, he could walk several yards down the hospital hallway with the use of a walker—something that amazed his doctors and nurses.

The chemo treatments made him so sick, but they also helped in the battle we were facing. Our son was becoming a warrior, courageously fighting each day for further movement and independence.

He spent two weeks in a rehabilitation center after he was released from the hospital. It was during that time that our son really began to regain the ability to utilize what they called core strength. This meant he could stand, supported, for a limited time using his hands to do simple tasks on a table.

After his release from the rehabilitation center, we were able to bring him back to his apartment that was ironically, ten minutes away from the cancer center in Murray. This helped greatly with his continued IV chemo treatments and further tests. He stayed in this location until May, when we were able to move him to our home in Idaho.

I’ve been asked repeatedly how we survived the past few months. It is a question I’ve pondered as well and I’ve come up with the following list:

1. Prayer. I’ve never prayed harder in my life. I prayed silently each day for comfort, guidance, and the strength to endure all that we were facing. I also felt comforting strength from the prayers of those who prayed for us. I learned during my own adventure with cancer in 2020 that there is strength in prayer. I’ve always had a strong testimony of the importance of prayer, but I learned in 2020 that there is an incredible power in prayer. That testimony was strengthened even further this past year. Prayer is a lifeline and I hold fast to it daily.

2. Family support. I will be forever grateful for my siblings, and other family members who sacrificed so much to help us survive this past year. My husband’s mother had shoulder surgery during our son’s battle with cancer, and Kennon spent a great deal of time at home, helping her. In his absence, my siblings took turns staying with me and helping me deal with difficult days. As I mentioned, our single son lived in a small apartment ten minutes away from the hospital which also had a cancer center next door to it. This proved to be such a blessing, since we could leave the hospital periodically to rest, knowing we were just a few minutes away if there was an emergency.

3. Recognizing tender mercies. These occurred daily, and I’ll probably never remember all of them, but each one was a reassurance that we weren’t alone in this battle. Having our son’s apartment so close to the hospital was a huge tender mercy. Having so many family members close by was another tender mercy. And incidents, like the day my clip came loose from my insulin pump. I didn’t realize it had happened until one of my siblings dragged me down to the cafeteria to eat a bite of something. (Let’s just say I didn’t have much of an appetite during that arduous time.) When I reached for my insulin pump (I’m a Type 1 diabetic), the clip was no longer attached. My clothing had help my pump in place. Frantic, I retraced my steps—that clip was important. I knew I could order a new one, but it would take several days to arrive. As my sister and I hurried through the hospital, looking for what was like finding a needle in a haystack, I silently prayed for help.

I felt impressed to go into the restroom I had used earlier. I entered the stall, and felt a strong impression to look through my jeans. I found the clip, inside one of my pant legs. It was such a relief! This may seem like a small thing to most people, but to me it was a huge sign that Someone was watching out for me. This small clip could’ve been easily lost, but it wasn’t.

4. Support from family members and friends. There is no way you can get through a trial of this magnitude without the loving support of family and friends. As I’ve already shared, my siblings sacrificed so much on behalf of our family during this trial. They took turns staying with me at my son’s apartment, and at the hospital so I wasn’t facing hard things alone. Kennon came down in between to help. Our second son did so much to help us sort through all of the paperwork/financial adventures during all of this. He provided a crucial service that quite literally saved the day. I also received so many text messages and phone calls from friends and relatives, it was overwhelming. But those messages were another lifeline.

Two close friends checked on my mother for me each week. My mother was living at the time in an assisted living center near our Idaho home, but I had been taking her to her appointments, and bringing her out to our home 2-3 times a week until our son went into the hospital. It was such a comfort to know that someone was checking weekly on my mother in my absence. One friend provided weekly Zoom chats for my mother and me so that she could visit with me almost in person. The other friend called me on her cell phone during her visits with my mother so that my mom could talk to me again. Both ladies then spent time with my mom, so that she didn’t feel like she was alone.

Another friend who lived in the area near my son’s apartment, brought us meals, kept in touch, and even invited Kennon & I to join her and her husband at the Jordan Temple to do sealings one night. This proved to be a much-needed moment of peace.

And I can’t begin to thank everyone who donated to a “Go Fund Me,” account that my brother and his wife opened on behalf of our son. The outpouring of support was amazing, and very appreciated.

Another friend was diagnosed with cancer during the time my son was in the hospital. We kept in close contact as we faced this dreaded disease together. Her messages were a source of comfort during our own adventure. We still keep in touch on an almost daily basis as we continue forward on this difficult journey.

A favorite aunt went with my husband to help take my mother to an appointment with her retinologist in Logan, Utah. This same lady also took my mother to a hair appointment, providing a needed act of service.

Another close friend drove down to Murray one day and spent time with me and my son at the rehab center. She then took me to lunch, and provided a huge boost to my sagging morale.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea. Letters, cards, and care packages were sent. People surfaced/stepped forward to help when we needed them the most, another indication that our Father was very aware of Kris and me during this fiery trial. I should mention that several of our son’s friends came to see him at the rehab center, and at his apartment, and even here at our home. Their visits were also deeply appreciated.

5. Family time. In the beginning, when we were told comforting things like our son was facing terminal cancer, we drew together as a family. Our youngest son flew into Utah to be with us during the first difficult week. This wasn’t easy for him as he was finishing up his residency in Rapid City, South Dakota. He also drove his family to Utah after Kris was released from the Rehab Center to his apartment. By this time, one of my sisters had helped us get a power-chair for Kris to use to get around in. He could walk on a limited basis, but needed a way to maneuver when his back gave out. The powerchair made it possible for him to go to a nearby park for a family picnic as our family gathered all together for the first time in nearly 2 years. (Another blessing, this power-chair breaks down into 4 pieces and fits nicely in our trunk.)

Kris put together a bucket list of sorts. At the top of this list was the desire to see the ocean. We made plans in May to make that happen and in July, our entire clan journeyed to San Diego and spent a week together in this location. We were able to take Kris to see the ocean several times that week in varied locations. It was a wonderful time, and something we will always treasure.

6. Keep hope alive. From the beginning, we refused to believe that all was lost. Even on the darkest night when all seemed to be going south, as they say, there was still a glimmer of light inside of my heart that persisted in glowing. I saw that same look of determination on Kris’ face each time he was told that he needed to accept what was happening. And as a result, we saw repeated miracles. The fact that Kris can now walk without his walker in our home is a miracle. Also, we have far exceeded the three month life-span that he was initially given. We are currently in month nine. Just saying. And his last PET scan showed that the tumor in his stomach is gone, as is the tumor in his lymph-nodes. The cancer was still in his entire spine, but it was shrinking. As a result of that test, we were told that Kris stands a really good chance of kicking this disease into remission.

7. Remember that attitude is everything. Someone told me that years ago. It is still very true. I’ve seen it in my own life with the battles I have faced compliments of Type 1 diabetes, rheumatoid arthritis, and cancer. I’ve also seen it play a huge role in my son’s life this past year as he has bravely faced an overwhelming diagnosis. We quickly learned to not focus on words like: terminal, stage four, or impossible. Instead we chose a positive approach, and that has made all of the difference.

There are days that are not fun. “Chemo-days,” as we call them. (Kris is still on oral chemo.) On these days, we strive to focus on upbeat things, funny comedies, and important items like chocolate or Coke Zero. We’ve learned to take each day as it comes and to do the best that we can. And we have learned to be grateful for the small things in life that we used to take for granted.

In short, this past year has been a time of heartache, pain, growth, hope, and love. We have constantly felt peaceful comfort, an indication that this life serves a purpose. There is a reason for all things, and we are never as alone as we sometimes think we are. And no matter what kind of journey we face, it’s important to push forward and follow the example my mother has set for us: never give up. We call her the Unsinkable Molly Brown (Molly Brown survived the Titanic adventure) for a reason. And I would have to say that her oldest grandson is living up to that legacy.

Never Give Up, Never Surrender

 

We live in a turbulent time. The news is filled with stories of destruction and dismay. There have been a plethora of natural disasters, political upheavals, acts of violence, and a plaguing illness that has swept the globe. In short, we are in latter-day mode. Through it all, our prophet has counseled us on how to survive the trials of this day. If we will heed his direction, we will be able to push through the days ahead and thrive as best we can.

In my own life, it seems as though I have been hit from every direction. We have lost loved ones, we have faced numerous changes in circumstances, and physical, spiritual, and emotional challenges have surfaced in our own lives, and the lives of those we care about. There are days when it seems as though the only way to move forward is through overwhelming obstacles. Those are the days when I sometimes sit on the uphill path and ponder how to accomplish this seemingly impossible task. I know it’s important to move forward, and yet, I fear what lies ahead. And as daunting pain penetrates the very core of my being, it is tempting to curl up in a ball and whimper that it’s all too much.

But, there is another part of myself that refuses to give up. It is that inner moxie that propels me to my feet to begin the process of moving forward despite the arduous course ahead. I suspect it is a trait that has been passed down through the generations from those who have gone before, paving the way before me during other challenging eras.

Years ago, when my father passed away under horrific circumstances, it also appeared to be a time when all was lost. It was like an explosion had gone off in our lives, and yet, somehow, we were expected to continue on. There were decisions to make—difficult paths to consider, and limited resources to make it all happen. We felt abandoned, fearful, and overwhelmed by sorrow. Our hearts were shattered and we were learning to take life one minute at a time. We bowed our heads under the weight of it all, and felt surrounded by a peaceful love that is impossible to put into words. We began to see miracles take place we couldn’t explain, but as they occurred, we began to see and understand that we were not as alone as we thought we were.

Some of those miracles are too sacred to share—but they were vital as we learned to lean on heaven’s guidance for survival. And slowly, bit by bit, things fell into place. We were able to move my mother and siblings into a safe haven in a different state as important healing began to take place. Doors opened that had been firmly shut—one example: my brother was able to serve a mission through a generous donation from friends of my father. Another example: an insurance policy that was unaffected by my father’s suicide surfaced and provided the means for my family to move to a college town where everyone was able to gain an important education. And bit by bit, our lives were pieced back together. It was in a different fashion than what we had anticipated, but looking back, we can see the wisdom of all that transpired.

I was the oldest, already married, and my husband and I had welcomed a son into our lives shortly before my father’s untimely death. My challenges were different, and yet as overwhelming as those faced by my mother and siblings. I found on the nights that I couldn’t sleep, it helped to write out everything I was feeling. I spent hours recording and then shredding painful memories—effectively weeding out negative items that needed to be removed for me to heal. I was also led to other things that helped like walking to clear my head, acts of service that chipped at the inner pain that threatened to consume me, and messages from heaven that helped me realize I wasn’t alone in the battle I was facing.

One bitter afternoon, I felt impressed to pick up a church magazine. I was so upset that day that I remember picking up the magazine and throwing it across the room. It opened to a page I needed to see. On that page was a poem that touched my heart in a way I still have a difficult time describing. It is as follows:

Coins

By Jean Chapin Seifert

Little one,

remember when I took

the five brown pennies

from your hand,

and in their place

I put a gleaming silver dime?

To my surprise,

you cried with rage—

replacing five with one

could not be fair!

I smiled, then,

at childish reckoning …

until I thought how often

that our Father takes away

the copper blessings

from my hand

and in their place

He puts more precious ones.

Yet, angrily, I count myself

defrauded by the gift.

I have not understood

Eternal reckoning.

That poem would give me the courage to continue on life’s path. I removed the page, framed it, and placed it on my desk where I could see it daily. It became an important lifeline as I healed. There were other messages that surfaced when I need them most—scriptures that seemed written just for me that brought comfort on difficult days. I learned that while I communicated with my Father in heaven through prayer, He often answered my questions through scriptures that brought comfort and inspiration.

I began writing out my story, in a fictionalized account, working through emotions that were tearing me apart as I typed each word. And when I was finished, I found I had written my first novel. I called it, “Still Water Runs Deep,” borrowing a phrase my father had written in a note he had left for me a year before he died. And that was the beginning of my writing career. It wasn’t something I had planned on doing with my life, but that was how it started, and I felt Heaven’s guidance each step of the way as I tried to write books I hoped would touch lives in a positive way. In time, my sixth attempt at writing a novel was accepted for publication, and nine of my books were published by Covenant Communications. My brother told me later that when my first book was published, it gave him hope, and the knowledge that our family was being watched over far more than we ever realized. As we each found our niche in life, it became apparent we had all been helped in so many ways. That is why I will never be able to turn my back to a loving Heavenly Father who has always been there for me, especially during difficult days.

Did the trials come to a halt after what my family had already endured? The answer would be a resounding, “NO!” As a very wise friend of mine told me one day as we walked together, the trials don’t stop until this life is over. And despite what we’ve already faced, there will be other lessons to learn, growth to be attained, and faith to be tested. In short, as my paternal grandmother once told me, this life is a giant classroom, and we never know when we’re going to get hit with a pop quiz. Words to live by . . . literally.

Surviving Latter-day Mode

 

Salu! To state that it has been a while since I’ve written anything would be a great understatement. Life has been crazy . . . for all of us! (Yet another understatement!) There has been a plethora of adventures, good and bad as we daily face the challenge of these latter days.

I look back over the past few months and marvel over all that has transpired. Turmoil, tempests, illness, and grief have hit with a fury throughout the world, and in our own corner of it. In recent weeks, we have lost loved ones through varying ways. Their passing has filled my heart with a deep sadness as I have struggled to help in a limited fashion. In a two week period, my husband and I attended funerals for 3 friends/relatives. Our hearts are tender, but in quiet moments, we have felt a comforting peace that keeps us going—it reminds us that we are not alone in the heart-rending battles taking place at this time. Heaven has felt close on occasion—an indication that we have far more help surrounding us than we may ever fully realize.

This past month has been a blur of health issues, mostly for my dear mother, who is fighting a huge battle with a body that is refusing to cooperate. One morning I received a phone call letting me know that I needed to hurry to the ER of our local hospital—my mother (who is currently residing in an assisted living center) was being rushed there by an ambulance. As I was led to the room where she was being helped, she smiled brightly and said, “Well, there’s my kid!” Her continued perseverance is amazing. And though we are still at a loss as to why her body is currently acting up big time, she still smiles and does her best to push through each day.

Her example gives me the courage to continue to fight my own health battles. There are days when I feel as though my spiritual armor has taken a few nasty blows—leaving behind numerous dents. Those are the days when I spend time on my knees, begging for relief, peace, and healing. I often find what I am seeking in a worn out triple combination that I keep close by.

I’m finding that it’s crucial these days to keep in touch with others—with family members and friends. As someone told me recently, we need each other. We were never meant to endure these difficult moments alone. And yet, in many ways, we feel more isolated now than ever before.

It has also saddened me that words like politeness, empathy, and compassion are being replaced by a hardened self-centeredness as some feel it’s their duty to force their opinion on everyone else. We all have the right to our own beliefs—but it is important to remember that this applies to everyone round us, as well. There is a need for patience, charity, and faith as never before.

This past year, as I have continued to fight a battle with cancer, (I’m doing well, but I’m still working on regaining my strength—an ongoing challenge.) I’ve had to take a few precautions. I wear a mask when it is appropriate and needful. I strive to socially distance myself from others as I continue to heal. And I’ve had to learn a simple, two-letter word when I simply don’t have the energy or ability to tackle whatever I’ve been asked to do. As my family can witness, in the past, that didn’t happen very often. It has been a humbling trial—I always have tried to do my part to help wherever I could. Now my body is letting me know in unsubtle ways that I need to rethink a few things.

I am grateful for those who understand, and give me time and space to heal. I am also grateful for the courageous example set by our church leaders. They have pointed the way to safety and peace during this tumultuous time.

To say that we’re all being stretched in a variety of ways would again, be a gross understatement. As I look around, I can see that nearly everyone is facing a battle of some kind. We all carry inner heart wounds that only our Savior and our loving Father in heaven can see. As such, we need to be kind, as a brave young woman that I know recently stated in an online post—we need to be considerate of those around us. We may be having the worst day ever, but we’re not the only ones enduring trials.

It is my hope that in the days ahead, we will pull together to survive all that is taking place during these turbulent latter days. We cannot win these overwhelming battles alone. It will take every bit of strength, courage, and faith that we can muster to push forward and succeed in becoming the people we are meant to be.

Smiling is My Favorite Exercise

 

I found myself wide awake early this morning, and feeling great. This is an unusual combination, compliments of health issues I have faced this past year. So you can understand why I also felt a tiny bit suspicious, figuring there was something I was supposed to do. And when words started going around inside my noggin, I figured this is what was going on.

I haven’t written a blog post for quite a while. In my defense, life . . . fatigue . . . holidays . . . did I mention life? So here goes . . . my first attempt at a blog post in 2021.

As this new year approached, I found myself dealing with conflicting emotions: excitement, apprehension (considering all that took place this past year) dread, and eager anticipation. I’ve always been a bit of an optimist. Through the years this has tended to annoy people. In high school I was accused of being one of those silly people who smile all the time. Was my life easy then . . . no, it was not. Did I have reasons to be happy . . . yes and no.

Light speed to the current time . . . is my life easy . . . no, it is not. Do I have reasons to be happy . . . yes and no. So in essence, nothing has changed, and neither has my tendency to smile even when things don’t warrant that expression.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I frown a bit. We all do. It’s part of the human experience. Bad days happen. Like that one a couple of days ago . . . when our nation seemed to be a bit off balance. Just sayin’ . . .

In my own personal life, I have been enduring a series of nasty arthritis flares the past couple of weeks. The kind that leaves you feeling like a walking canker sore. Not my idea of a fun time. And when I’m in a bit of pain, my blood sugar levels tend to run low. . . a lot. Go team . . . and Type 1 diabetes.

The doctor who has been helping me with my cancer adventure, is convinced this less than fun escapade will resurface. We have agreed to disagree on that one. So far I’m winning.

Daily I do my best to help my mother with her varied challenges. Her eyesight is dimming, and I know if I feel like a walking canker sore, she is feeling the same x 10. Character building moments, as we call them.

I’m also still doing my best to help my husband deliver our county’s version of meals on wheels twice a week, and we are still serving as the housing coordinators for the missionaries who serve in our area. And while I’m busy helping my mom, my husband is helping his, since she recently moved to our valley. So we are rarely bored. And maybe that is what is keeping us going. Each day we look at our list of things to do and attempt to accomplish the most important items. I think that’s all any of us can do.

Granted, we live in a precarious time. I find that I can only stand to watch the news for a few minutes before turning to my current favorite show: “Chopped,” on the Food network. I get a kick out of seeing what these creative cooks come up with using the strange ingredients they are required to use. In some ways I guess I can relate to that challenge in my own life. I’ve been given an interesting set of character building items to make things entertaining. It’s up to me to determine what I do with them. ;)

I’m taking satisfaction in finally regaining some of the strength I lost this past year. This gives me hope that one of these days when I cross off my long list of things to do, I might just actually feel well enough to venture into my new craft room and do something fun.

I guess in essence, we are all facing similar adventures. And because we are all so different, our challenges will vary. But the emotions are the same. We deal with fear, weakness, irritation, etc. quite a bit these days. And yet, there are still good things taking place . . . we just have to look for them. There are reasons why I keep pictures of my family in a place where I can see them everyday. And reasons why I also treasure items that close friends have given me. Their love and faith in me often keep me going on days when all seems lost.

All is never lost. That is something I have learned repeatedly in my life. Even during the darkest moments when my heart has felt like shards of glass, there has been a tiny flicker of hope that has kept me going. It is the knowledge that I am a daughter of God. Despite everything, I know that He is there, helping me survive the perilous journeys I am often called upon to make in this life. Through it all, I am never alone. I also have the guidance of a beloved Elder Brother who sacrificed so much for me . . . and for all of us. His example lights the way and gives me something to cling to when the world seems crazy.

So during these times when we don’t seem to know from day to day what we will face or endure, know that hope lives on . . . always. Despite everything, there are still reasons to smile. And someday, when we find ourselves at the summit of this uphill battle we call life, we will know that it was all worth it in the end.

Thanksgiving 2020

 

 To say that this year has been interesting, would be a huge understatement! Our entire world has been affected by events that we’re still striving to survive. And to me, the past few months have been a blur of healing, regaining strength, and chaos as life continuously threw curve-balls our direction.

And now, as we approach the holiday season that most of us enjoy and look forward to, I think we’re all experiencing an exhaustion of epic proportions. One can only live in flight or fight mode for so long before feeling drained emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

As a huge holiday approaches (Thanksgiving) I’m still finding that I’m too tired to even contemplate putting up my usual decorations for this time of year. This is sad to me. I found it sad last month, when all I seemed to have the energy to tackle was a few half-hearted Halloween decorations that I managed to set up outside with my husband’s help.

The past few days as I’ve attempted to keep up with my daily list of activities, responsibilities, etc. I’ve realized that all things considered, I’m doing remarkably well. Even if there are days when I feel much like our refrigerator that just died: “I’m done now.”

So I’ve taken a step back and tried to ponder all of the things that I’m very grateful for. It’s helping me take stock of the things that really matter as I sort life out in my head and heart.

I am grateful for the power of prayer. Even though things this year did not go according to plan . . . at all . . . I’m still standing because of prayer. I have survived cancer in the middle of a world-wide pandemic because of prayer. We have seen miraculous things take place (see my earlier blog posts for details) because of our personal prayers, and the prayers of others. Prayer is our lifeline to our Father in heaven. And currently we need His help . . . a lot. Prayer is crucial!

I am so thankful for healthcare workers who daily put their lives on the line for all of us! I saw firsthand this year the huge sacrifice nurses, doctors, dietitians, and the hospital support staff make on our behalf. Three of our immediate family members have bravely stood on the front lines of this horrid battle with the Covid virus, trying to save lives and make a positive difference in this troubled world. They wear uncomfortable gear that most of us would balk at on a daily basis. I only had to wear a similar outfit one day while helping with last week’s interesting election adventure, and by 7:30 that night (my shift started at 7:30 that morning) I was so done with wearing gloves, a face mask with a filter, and a face shield. And that’s only a small part of the protective gear that our hospital crews have to endure each day. We owe our healthcare workers a huge standing ovation for all that they have done to help us survive this pandemic. And is it really such a hardship that we’ve been asked to wear a simple mask to help ease their load?

This year has been a reminder of what is important, and what is not. I am so appreciative of teachers, counselors, and principals who put in countless hours trying to help kids learn both on and offline. This is another brave group of people who deserve a standing ovation. We may never fully realize just how much these courageous souls have sacrificed to make things work this year. Just as we may never fully understand how much time parents have put into helping their children endure this strange year of learning and coping. They also deserve a huge debt of gratitude for all that they have done! Their creativity is astounding as they help their offspring survive a time that has been difficult and taxing.

We also owe a huge debt of gratitude to those who work in grocery stores and other places of business. Daily they face huge risks to their health status as they help us get the items we need for every day life. Where would we be without their willingness to bravely face crowds of people knowing that at any time, they may come in contact with Covid?

I would also like to give a huge shout out to those who are working hard to finalize a vaccine that is being developed in a miraculous fashion to help stifle this Covid virus. I have a sibling who is among those courageous individuals involved in running tests for this all-important vaccine. Kudos to all of those who have spent countless hours researching something that is coming together faster than any other vaccine ever did.

I am grateful for toilet paper . . . and other items we take for granted until we can’t get it. We have so much in comparison to other eras—those little things that make life easier. How sad is it that we don’t fully appreciate what we have until it’s no longer available?

So this year, my list of items/people that I’m grateful for is very long. As I count my numerous blessings, it is a reminder that as draining as this year has been, it could’ve been a lot worse. Yes, there have been lots of disasters, natural and otherwise, and sadly, we have lost loved ones along the way, but we have never been alone. When we stop to ponder all of the challenges we have survived this past year, it becomes clear that through it all, we had more help than we realized. I suspect that if we could truly see what is going on, we would find that we have been surrounded by angels throughout the past few months. When we have experienced a touch of comfort here, or a bit of peace there, it has been a reminder that in the midst of our suffering, our Father and Elder Brother are very aware of us and all that we are enduring. Hope lives on, and faith will thrive if we will be charitable to one another and express gratitude for the tremendous blessings taking place all around us.

Someday we will look back on this time with wonder. Our great-grandkids will marvel over all that we survived, and hopefully, we can truthfully state that it was indeed the best of times, and the worst of times, but we came through with flying colors because we never fully gave in to despair.

Lessons Learned

 

We live in an interesting time. Understatement of the year . . . decade . . . era! Our lives have become whirlwinds of challenge, trials, heartache, and change. And yet, there is hope! Words to live by, literally!

This past year I have battled a fierce opponent that most call cancer. I will freely admit I may have called it other names, some I won’t share here, but this challenge has taught me many lessons. And in light of recent events (ie: life in Covid mode) I feel impressed to share some of them.

It is normal to feel scared. We are human and we deal with a lot of emotions as a result. Some things are frightening. I believe it is our responsibility to face those fears and not allow them to control us.

On the morning of my first surgery, one of my nurses made a less than helpful list. She brought it into my hospital room to share:

“You are a Type 1 diabetic.”

“Yes.”

“You have a form of heart disease.”

“Yes.”

“You have lupus.”

“Correct.”

“And a crippling form of rheumatoid arthritis.”

I’m sure at this point in that particular conversation I was probably wearing my Scott’s face (We Scottish types tend to be stubborn on occasion.) I thought the following: “And your point is?!!!” But I have been raised to be polite, so I merely said: “Yes.”

“And now you’re facing cancer.”

In my mind I was thinking something like: “Thank you, Captain Obvious!” Yes, I have a warped sense of humor. It has helped me survive many things. But I try to behave, most of the time. That morning I forced myself to reply:

“That’s what my doctors tell me.”

She merely nodded, made a note in my chart, and said something like: “Good luck today.” I could tell what she was thinking by the look on her face: “You’re going to need all the luck in the world.”

That enlightening conversation should’ve scared me spit-less. Instead, it added to my determination to come through with flying colors . . . and I did. But I didn’t do it alone. Prayer is huge. I’ve shared this part with several others, and I feel impressed to share it now—I was carried by the prayers of others. I literally felt wrapped in love and peace that day, and on the morning of my second surgery a week later. I will be forever grateful for everyone’s prayers on my behalf—they were answered in a big time way.

So lesson one: don’t allow fear to control you when life seems to be spiraling out of control. Process that emotion, but allow hope and faith to take the driver’s seat when you’re facing trials.

Lesson two: prayer is a real force. It’s so important for us to pray for others when they are facing difficult challenges. They will draw tremendous strength from those prayers. And we also need to pray for ourselves. It is our link with our Father, a way for us to communicate with Him and a way for Him to communicate with us. I’ve heard it said that we communicate with our Father in heaven through prayer. He communicates with us through the scriptures. I can’t tell you how many times I have turned to specific scriptures that contained just the message that I needed during challenging times.

I mentioned faith a moment ago. This is also huge when we’re facing obstacles in our mortal journey. Someone once told me that attitude is everything. This would be correct. The morning after my second surgery, as I was being walked around the Covid-free environment in the surgery wing of the hospital, I was being myself and making a few bad puns along the way. Something I said made my nurse laugh and she said something I needed to hear: “You are going to be okay! Your attitude will help you survive this challenge.”

Lesson three: No matter what we’re facing, attitude is everything! I’ll admit, when you are aboard what appears to be a sinking ship (and sometimes, it does seem like the Titanic) don’t give up! I believe that is part of our test in this life, to see how we will respond to challenges, heartaches, or loss of any kind. My mother is a great example of making lemonade out of lemons. After our father’s death, she went back to school and became the valedictorian of her class. She worked at a career she loved for many years, supporting us all. She kept moving forward, showing us that it is possible to rise above difficult things to succeed.

Now, I’ll admit, it was a crushing blow to me the day I flunked my first cancer recheck. I had survived two surgeries, and all of the fun that went with that. I had totally shocked my doctor and nurses by how early I was talking, and how well I was talking. (I have a type of oral cancer and a portion of my tongue, etc. was removed.) The day of my second surgery, my nurse stepped into the room and told me to merely nod or shake my head in response to her questions. When I spoke instead, she was stunned, and quickly ran to find my doctor so that he could see this small miracle for himself. She later told me that my doctor had written in my chart that it would be a long time before I would be able to talk. They were all amazed by my ability to speak. All things considered, I was doing well. And so was the cancer. It was refusing to leave. Here’s what I learned from that experience:

Lesson four: there will be setbacks in our lives. Things won’t always work out the way we envision. And sometimes, this makes no sense to us. I believe it’s part of the test. If things always worked out, we wouldn’t appreciate the blessings and miracles that take place all around us. We would come to expect that everything will always go the way we want. Surprise: it doesn’t. These type of challenges become character building moments. Stepping stones as we learn to push forward despite the difficulty of each step.

It would take a couple more months of small procedures to get rid of the lingering cancer cells. These were not fun adventures, but they worked. Eventually. And I finally got to see my doctor smile about 3 months ago when he shared that I was finally cancer free—for now. Through this experience I learned that patience truly is a virtue.

Lesson Five: Patience means trusting in the Lord’s timing. I think I’ve been learning this lesson most of my life. Things have rarely happened when I thought they should. Perhaps you can relate. But when we’ve done all we can on our part, we must then possess enough faith to put our hand in God’s and trust that things will eventually work out. Until then, we endure the storms that pass through, knowing that one day, the sun will shine again. We will find reasons to smile, again. And items like Covid, will become memories that we’ll look back on, not with fondness, but perhaps with an appreciation for all that we survived with God’s help.

So I am now almost 3 months cancer free (yes, I’m hoping for good results next week!). And yes, it has been quite the journey. I’m still learning the importance of pacing myself. I am getting stronger all of the time, but I’ve had to swallow a bit of pride and admit that I am not 100% yet. Periodically, I have to ask for help. (Yes, I know, I can’t believe I shared that either. We Scottish types don’t like asking for help. We are the eternal two-year-olds: “DO IT MYSELF!” souls who struggle with being dependent on others.) I believe that would be lesson 6: it’s okay to ask for help. I said it, but I’m still struggling with it.

Another thing I’m struggling with: I have to avoid some foods with acid content like luscious tomatoes that I love, and can’t enjoy right now. This is sad for me, but I’m dealing with it. Chocolate is still my friend, so I take comfort in it. I’ve been told that it may take up to a year for me to be able to eat items that are acidic. I’ve learned (the hard way) that when I do eat items of that nature, my tongue reacts very badly. Sigh . . .

So to sum up, life happens! There will always be challenges. We are living in a time that will no doubt be recorded in history. And if we look back through history, we will note that there have always been adventures that test what we’re made of. I suspect that’s part of why we’re here. On bad days, reflect on what is really important. Cling to hope, knowing that brighter days are ahead. Learn from the journey, but keep moving forward, and look for the good. We hear a lot about the bad things taking place these days, but there are good things happening, too. Start making a list of those items, and I think we’ll all be surprised by how many positive blessings are taking place all around.