My Mom Inadvertently Joined the Cancer Club

It was hard to hear my dad report back everything the doctors had told them about my mom's colon cancer as I sat in their home. Hard for many reasons, but partially, it's hard because apparently, I had expectations. My mind kept rethinking, "This is that moment where my mom tells me she has cancer." I didn't realize I had an idea of what a moment like that would entail, but I did. 

The most encouraging phrase she and my dad offered was that the oncologist had told them, "It will be a rough year." There were no final sentences or timeframes, just "a rough year."

For the most part, my mom's month of chemo and radiation treatment has been very calm. Her body handled it pretty well until the last week. With burns on her hands and feet and feeling too weak to walk, my mom heroically pushed through the last few rounds of treatments. 

The side effects of chemo are subsiding, and now, she will have her tumor removed surgically in the next little while. We think things will be fine, but we appreciate prayers sent our way nonetheless. She has shown a new courage and fortitude since this all began. She surprises me every day with her ability to take it all. 

I wonder if people realize they have such strong ideas about cancer before it taps them on the shoulder. We interact with it so frequently in forms of billboards and fundraisers, but those don't mean as much until you realize you've somehow joined the cancer club. 

Pardon my lightness. It's just comforting to think sometimes that cancer isn't something you can entirely avoid. EVERYONE should be screened, of course: colonoscopies, mammograms, whatever it takes to be on the defensive, do it. 

But outside of those things, and maybe smoking, cancer isn't exactly something you get because you were too unhealthy. Modern medicine may reveal otherwise eventually, but for now, it's simply: my mom has colon cancer and we fight it. There aren't any what-ifs.

So far, the fight is going well. When she completed her radiation treatment, the doctors gave her a certificate of completion and a bottle of sparkling cider to celebrate. 

She says that aside from her own birth and giving birth to my brother and me, it's the only certificate she's ever earned. I, for one, though, am very proud of her involvement in each one. 

My Grandfather's Garden: Tomato Soup

The latest additions to my grandfather's garden are the two mourning doves. The funny part is they've always been around. At my parent's home, I've been woken up by their soft but unmistakable coo for as long as I can remember.

But now my grandfather has trained them with food. He calls out and shakes the box of seed. They land on the stand he built to keep them safe from my mother's cats. If he's late for dinner, they scope the neighborhood looking for him and gently swoop over his bald head when they find him across the street helping with someone's yard work.

The garden has changed but the tomatoes are just the same. Nothing makes better soup than the tomatoes my grandfather grows.

Happy Fourth of July!

I'd like to take a time-out from cake to wish you a happy Fourth of July. I really like this holiday for many reasons.

I should probably be celebrating by saying something meaningful or at least posting pictures of my handsome Marine brother. But there are celebrations calling and buttermilk syrup to be made. (Why do I have buttermilk on hand, you ask? It has less to do with syrup and more to do with me finally having ingredients for Super's cake!)

So, I give you three of my favorite Fourth videos. The first, one my co-worker and I used to sing at work.
The second, from the musical 1776, which I love deeply. Mr. Feeny is my John Adams. And this man is so much my Ben Franklin, I can't even remember the actor's name.

And the third from the West Wing, which is self-explanatory and makes me cry every time.

God bless America; my brother, who stands up for it; Mrs. Thompson, who taught me to love it; and Aaron Sorkin, who made me less worried about how it all runs.

The Best Things from My Birthday Month

1. Snow on the orchards, not on the roads. Sun everywhere.

2. I took a trip to JoAnn by myself. All the things I needed were on sale and in stock. But the best thing? Three very happy ladies surrounding me in line as well as two very happy children. Their kindness and smiles were infectious and warm. May their new years be blessed.

3. My mom made me buttermilk syrup and pancakes. I told her we're not allowed to worry about the effects of corn syrup on my birthday.

4. My brother and I laughed at Mormon memes and the Hey Girl tumbler.

5. Getting wished happy birthday by Super twice—once on New York time and once on Utah time. Super and I share the same birthday! Wild, I know. It's pretty much worked wonders for making my birthday a much more enjoyable day.

6. My grandpa giving me "hamburger money."

7. Getting a birthday text from my cousin Nan in the middle of the night.

8. Having our sink filled with pink water from the red velvet cake my mom made.

9. Watching Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs with my family.

10. My dad's perfect hexagonal wrapping job.

11. My brother coming to say good night when he got home in the middle of the night.

12. Hearing Super remind me how much he loves me and truly feeling loved by a wonderful man. 

13. Lunch with Elisabeth and her gift of a dinosaur sandwich maker.

14. Dinner with my good friend Jamie. If you ever think, gee I want to go to Tucanos, but I don't want to come back with a zero balance in my bank account, try Braza Express! Slightly more authentic Brazilian food for nearly a third of the price. It is very, very yummy, and there's a great atmosphere about the place with really nice people putting your food together.

15. A party with my friends! Sitting around chatting was a truly sweet moment for me. There was also lots of great food. I invented something that worked out for once! Well, first I tried to make brownies in muffin top pans, which is possible but didn't work that well for me. So then I crushed those brownies into chunks, added sliced strawberries, and a dollop of this great buttercream frosting (the best buttercream frosting ever). It was lovely.

We also made Brazilian lemonade using a bottle of Minute Maid strawberry lemonade and a can of sweetened condensed milk. It was a bit too sweet, but the color was gorgeous.

Bang!

The fantastic people I used to work with made this lovely video about Sounds to Astound, the acoustics  outreach club at BYU. They put on an awesome and free show with fire, science, and a crowd of cute kids (usually). I've really enjoyed going. It's a great way to teach your kids about sound, fill up your family night with love, or decide if your date is science-savvy enough to marry.

So, check out the video, and make your free reservation for November 26 or 30 here.

Am I cut out for this motherhood thing?

My friends all seem to be having babies lately. So, in my latest post for Women's Services, I wrote a little bit about how nurturing fits into those of us who feel less like nuturers.

Read the full post here.

If you feel alone, please consider this:

Loneliness has often been a battle in my life. I need people. A lot. I need people who care about me to check in with me, to share with me, and to sit with me. Sometimes, I need someone there all the time, which while it is a real need, can sometimes be an impossible demand for the people I love to meet. I have many good people in my life who give a lot of their time to me. I'm really grateful for them. Still, I have days and moments when I am very alone, despite all they can do for me. Check out my post on the BYU Women's Services blog about how I handle these moments.

My Debt to Spongebob and SG-1

Between the hours of 1:30 a.m. to 5:00 a.m. this past week, I've seen ships destroyed, a wrongly accused man, alien abductions, a drug that makes you hate your neighbor, an army of brave men slaughtered, one good-looking psychiatrist, and the joyous return of that same psychiatrist—only as his usual anthropologist self, but with amnesia.

No, these have not been my early morning hour dreams. Rather, I've been watching the television show Stargate SG-1 with my brother, Shawn. On Sunday, we sent him off to become a marine.

Read more here.

Shawn's the one who looks most like a marine

When I see WinCo ads...

I worry and worry about how to cook for my children someday. I'm terrified I won't be able to keep making meal after meal after meal forever. I've done it before for my parents and siblings before, but still it scares me.

Moreover, I'm really afraid of being able to pay for meal after meal after meal. Today though, I saw the ad for WinCo this week. I took one look . . .  Read more

War Horse—Savor it

I’m not really a fan of animal movies. When the wellbeing of an animal becomes greater than the wellbeing of a person, it rubs me the wrong way. So it was a pleasant surprise to find that War Horse is really about people. People who drink. People who mock. People who hate. People who love. People who care. People who overcome. And people who die. The film intersects stories of men and women who do whatever it is they do with grace and kindness, and when they tried with the worst, they continue with simple goodness.

In the same sense that this is much more than an animal movie, it’s also its own breed of war movie. Death here is appropriately horrific and appropriately reverenced. The nightmare of the trenches flashes into you in a way no history book catches, yet with a gentle enough hand for you to grab hold of the respect you need and nothing more.

No one character is particularly glorified or outstanding. They each exhibit greatness as they cross paths momentarily. I was distracted throughout the movie because each new character seemed to look just like someone I know: my dad’s boss, my piano teacher, my neighbor. As I watched soldiers descending into the depths of WWII, it occurred to me that these are people I know.

These average looking and ordinary people represent the men who come before me—at least one of my direct descendants—but more so they stand in for the souls that were just down the street from my relatives, who gave and shared bread with them before they died. Where many family lines ended, mine did not, and it survived with the traces of good neighbors who gave their lives in full in the end and who had likely given bits of their time and spirit to their friends before.

War Horse sweeps across these stories lightly against a color palette of hope in bleakness. See it, and savor it.

Good people striving

I've been learning a lot about just how mortal everyone is, especially myself. We all have struggles in life and different weaknesses that we deal with. I'm only just beginning to see mine more clearly. I can be a very negative, discouraged, and fearful person. It's really true that this is a part of who I am, but it's not who I'd like to be. Heavenly Father knows this is part of who I am, and He is working with me everyday to make me into something better. I'm accountable for how I deal with my challenges, but it's not as if He has made me imperfect so I will fail or as if He's cursed me in any way. I am just imperfect, and God uses those weaknesses to teach me.

I'm learning that everyone around me has challenges. These challenges all look very different—some more visible, some more hidden. This is something I'm learning on a lot of levels, and I fear I might miscommunicate my intent or opinions by linking this idea with this video, but I'm going to try to express these things clearly anyways.

I believe that "marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God." Family life can be very hard because we are all mortal and imperfect. There are abusive husbands; there are materialistic wives; there are parents who neglect their children; there are addictions; there are fears; there are emotionally abusive people; there are prideful people. In short, there are a lot of hard things to be dealt with. Yet no matter what we struggle with or what the people in our lives struggle with, God cares about those problems and He understands them far better than we do. Marriage and family still have the greatest potential to bring us happiness. That doesn't instantly happen because we have to work at it, but it is still true.

I don't quite endorse every single word of this video, but as a whole, I love it because I think it says, in effect, "I am struggling with this, but it is still a part of who I am now." My challenges in life are not the same as the good people in this video, but they are challenges. I think we can all understand what it's like to have something that we hurt over, we stress over, we cry over, and that we don't always know how to deal with. These things are a part of who we are, but they aren't everything about us. I believe that they are challenges to overcome and deal with, and I recognize that how to do that isn't always clear or easy. For all of us, we have to keep pressing forward, trusting true principles, and trusting that God does know us and wants us to be happy. He will teach us how to do that, as we seek Him.

A mother's heart

Today, I went walking in search of the playground near my house. I took the long way, wandering down 7th East towards the school there instead of the smaller park. To my delight, I found a playground beyond my wildest dreams. They just installed it: a pirate ship—each turn of wood work gloriously crafted to make some child sure this is the real deal.

Yes. There is pirate candy.

Mostly though, it just looked cool. I walked around it and thought about how I could climb in it, but then what would I do? If I had a friend, I'd throw back a Jones soda and tell stories about the wind and how spring is coming. But I worried that there wasn't really much to do with the pirate ship besides just being in the pirate ship.

How very demanding that all sounds of me. As a child, I would have been far more capable of coming up with entertainment. I realized that I still am. I just need a child who will appreciate my efforts.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a mother. The idea of it thrills me. I get so excited when I think I want to be a mother. I want to have a family. These thoughts are beautiful and good, but sometimes, when I think more about what that entails, I get worried. I start thinking about what I will do all day with a house of children. I worry about filling the time everyday. I worry about always drowning in a mess. I worry about my kitchen looking like this play one I found today.

I'm afraid of not being able to handle the day-to-day living part of it, so much so that when I think about actually being a mom, my focus shifts to these areas and the excitement I feel at the simpler thoughts evaporates from me.

When this happens, I think of this quote from a woman who has nine children now. This comes from her essay titled "To the Mother with Only One Child." 

"When I had only one child, I told myself over and over that motherhood was fulfilling and sanctifying and was filling my heart to the brim with peace and satisfaction.  And so I felt horribly guilty for being so bored, so resentful, so exhausted.  This is a joyful time, dammit!  I should enjoy being suddenly transformed into the Doyenne of Anything that Smells Bad.

"I loved my baby, I loved pushing her on the swing, watching squirrels at the park together, introducing her to apple sauce, and watching her lips move in joyful dreams of milk.  But it was hard, hard, hard.  All this work:  is this who I am now?"

This quote is comforting, because even for this woman, who is what we could call a good mother now, it was a struggle to make this change to all day care. Her days were long and hard, but she still felt moments of joy. Over time as she had more children, those long, hard days changed into more times of enjoyment, though the initial move may be very hard.

It's a shift to fill your entire day with the needs of one other person. But how glorious it becomes as you grow. It's a difficult balance to strike: realizing it's demanding, but stepping up with faith and cheer anyways.

I told a friend yesterday that I didn't feel like I was wanting the right things, meaning that my desire to be a wife and mother is sometimes shallow and overwhelmed by my worries about the less glamorous parts of it. She said, "Well of course! No one wants to be wiping butts all day." This bothered me. I suppose she was trying to make me realize that my worries are normal. But that wasn't what I needed to hear.

What I really want is to change my desires so that my focus is on the why and the beautiful rather than the how. The how is so important: you cannot give love to your family without being willing to give them the deepest acts of service, the "feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants" (Mosiah 4:26). For me, I need to focus on why those things are so important and what they say: the why, which is love—deeper and purer than anything else—for both God and His children.

After my frustrating encounter, I came across this quote from Kristen Oaks, an LDS woman who did not marry until her 50s.  

"I got a doctorate and became so involved in my profession that I forgot about being a good person. I would say to everyone in this room, always remember that your first calling is as a mother or as a father. Develop those domestic talents, talents of love and talents of service."

Her words validated the thoughts of my heart.

My dearest friend Kent once told me about a new mother who blogged. Her mom commented that all her daughter wrote about was pee and poop. The younger mother exclaimed, "You understand it now! That is my life." I love that this story was important to him. I believe it stuck with him because he understood the struggles of parenting, yet he has a much deeper conviction of the joys behind the struggles. He was willing to take it all.

For him it was so obvious that these things all fit together. Finding matching shoes, cleaning counter tops, and preparing food—all means to joyful moments of standing in holy places, creating praiseworthy projects, and partaking of the Bread of Life together. Those all sound pretty great to me. I can live with the means to get there if those are the ends.

On the clatter of children

As a single woman, I've become unrealistically and unnecessarily dependent on silence. It's because I'm selfish sometimes. I think, "My brain can only handle this homework assignment if I have utter and total silence so that I can concentrate on it."

I sell my brain short. I also sell the Spirit short too. I forget that even in the noise and craziness of the world, thinking clearly is still an option. God won't abandon me because it's loud around me. We need quiet time to think and ponder. This is certainly true, and it's true that we need to search for and create that quiet time to have more intimate moments with the Spirit and with ourselves. But this need not happen at the expense of those people around us who need to share a space with us.

When I break out of my silent studying, I come to the Erying Science Center on campus, which is filled with little science demonstrations. Today as usual, the building was filled with second graders clanking ropes, weighing space matter, and generally enjoying their lunch. Rather than distracting, it was cleansing and clearing.

As part of my studying, I read a small snippet about how Americans have a sense of space, rather than one of place. We are not rooted in our surroundings, but instead fix our focus on what is outside of just where we are, riveting on a horizon and a future before us. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. I feel this endearment and this desire in my heart for the clatter of children around me, but I get nervous when it comes too close. I shouldn't be. God sanctifies us in close conditions of sound, silence, and heart beats. 

A Letter to the Mother with One Child

My first thought as I glanced at this article was jealousy that there are 601 comments on it. Then I read it. If all of those 601 comments are good and positive, Simcha Fisher deserves every one of them.

These are beautiful thoughts, which I agree with completely. (I wouldn't disagree as I don't have the credentials for that.) I wanted to share it with my readers, because I want to hear your thoughts as women, girls, inbetween those two, mothers, grandmothers, and even as men, boys, and fathers.

You can read the article here, http://www.ncregister.com/blog/to-the-mother-with-only-one-child. Then come back here and share some comments. What part of this resonates with you the most?

Here's what resonates with me: we have so many expectations of what we are capable of and of how things should feel. We are usually wrong: we are capable of everything, and there is always deep joy to be had somewhere.

I include this picture of my brother and me from about five years ago because this was a moment when we were deeply grateful for my mom, who tried to get us to win her a cake at the elementary school cake walk for twelve years, between the two of us. At the last time possible, we did it.

One great lady

On January 2nd, my dear grandmother, Gertie, passed away after a long battle with poor health. I'm not really sure what I want to write here that isn't too close to my heart to share in a place like this. I worry about keeping the most tender memories of her safely tucked away.

Sometimes when I write things, the act of putting things down in words pulls them away from my deeper feelings. This makes for a positive experience usually, but occasionally, it lets me forget things that require more pondering than one bout of writing offers.

So instead of words, I'd like to share a few pictures of my grandma, who is a lovely, lovely lady. Also, I would like to express one thought that holds true in my heart no matter what I write about it: my grandma is still very close to me. Those who pass away are never too far away. When I say this, I am not talking about how we can remember them and that makes us feel close to them. No. I am talking about the literal reality of life after death. I know that when we leave this life, we enter the Spirit World where we engage in other work, taking with us all of the characteristics we have developed in this life. Like Jesus Christ, we will all be resurrected and be reunited with our physical bodies, which will be renewed and glorified. There's more to the story, and you can find that here.

The newer photographs are by my cousin, Nate and his wife Lori. The handsome man below is my Grampie.

It's time for one of these things...

I'm feeling the need for some gratitude listing right about now. Why quelch a feeling like that? And why miss an opportunity to say "quelch"? It's at least seventy times seventy more times awesome than saying "quench."

1. My brother played Risk: Factions with me on Sunday. It was a splendid game, and I'm grateful he still agrees to play games with me after our childhoods have ended.

2. I was really hoping and praying for some good deals while shopping. That prayer was indeed answered when I found these awesome boots at Target that will keep me warm and dry and still make me feel good about the way my feet look when I wear them and it doesn't end up snowing. I'm grateful for this insurance against the dark feelings the cold brings.

3. My dad has been reading my blog lately. I'm really grateful for his constant support of everything I do. He has always encouraged me to write, which has been invaluable for making me a happy person. I don't know what I'm do without him. I'm more grateful for him that my heart can hold.

4. My mom made some really great cornbread last night. I'm grateful for her efforts to make dinner for our family, even when it is really difficult to put together a meal in our kitchen and for our family's ever-changing tastes and preferences.

5. I'm grateful for the ability to write, the chance to move thoughts and feelings out through my fingertips. I sometimes wonder, if I couldn't write, would my fingers swell up with everything running through me?

6. I'm grateful for the Christmas holiday. Now, I hate commericalism and things, but I do love having a chance to think about gifts for those I love. Of course, gift giving is a very imperfect means of expressing love, but I enjoy the chance to think through what each person will enjoy the most and how I can create it for them.

7. I'm grateful for phones and text messages and emails that don't cost a fortune. 

8. I'm strangely grateful for the number eight. It reminds me of a memory trick one of my teachers taught me to remember the eighth amendment (it's sort of gruesome, so I'll spare you the mnemonic device) which then reminds me of all the wonderful teachers I've had throughout my schooling.

9. I'm grateful for Super and his general peaceable approach to setbacks.

I could put a number ten, but I don't want to give anyone the false impression that this is the end-all-be-all of lists.