Again with the murmuring

 I've been reading in Exodus about the children of Israel and their murmuring.  When I was younger, I thought, "Those children of Israel.  They can't get it right.  They keep getting saved and they still murmur."

Now, I see myself.

When I can't see around every dark corner, I think, "Well, this is it.  I'm in trouble now...."

And just like the children of Israel, I keep getting help.  It isn't always how I expect.  It wasn't always how they expected.  Manna?  (Adam compared it to Dippin' Dots and I like that.) No one was expecting manna, yet there it was.

Every day.

Thinking about this has caused me to think about God observing our whining, our ill-founded panic, our murmuring.

Does he feel about it like we feel about a beloved baby, who cries for food even though they get food every time they cry?  We don't fault the baby for crying.

Does he feel about it like we feel about a petulant toddler? It's tiresome, but part of the package.

Does he feel about it like we feel about a morose and complaining teenager, who you'd just as soon go away for a while?

My guess is just like we expect more of children as they grow, He expects more of us over time.

This all makes me feel like I need to get it together!

Welcome back

 You know those videos of a soldier returning where their families clamor around them, hugging them?  That was basically the scene at school yesterday morning.  My students acted like they hadn't seen me for years.  I knew it wouldn't last.

Sure enough, by math, they were scowling at me.

Someone drew a heart on the pavement outside my door and wrote Dais in it.  Of course, then the other students had to point out they'd spelled my name wrong.

"There's no 'v'," twenty students informed me.

Yes, I know.

The student I had said hi to at Winco on Saturday told me that he had seen me at Winco on Saturday.

Yes, I know.  

I broke my ID badge and a secretary ordered me a new on.  I asked how I was going to get in this morning and they told me that I guess I can just stay home....

I will just hope someone gets there the same time as me or I guess I'll be waiting outside a while.

A student threw up in the garbage can.

We celebrated two birthdays.

A girl was shivering at recess and Alissa asked her why she was wearing shorts.  She said, "It's about the outfit."

Alissa said, "But it's cold."

My student said, "Beauty is pain."

(She has a teenage sister and it shows.)

I had a Big Meeting with a parent and therapists and lots of school personnel.  It lasted 85 minutes.  Not that I was keeping track....

I was letting my students in after afternoon recess and I noticed six big sixth graders surrounding one of my students.  I left no one in charge of the rest of my class and hightailed it across the playground.  Some of the boys were bigger than me, but I also had some of them as 3rd graders, which removes any intimidation factor of big boys, so I sent them packing and pulled my student back to the classroom.

The difference between yesterday and a week ago when I sitting in the sunshine by a pool is...vast.

Weekend

 The weekend was largely unremarkable.  I was very pleased that I didn't feel too many effects from my infusion.  I was kind of tired on Friday, but I decided to pretend I wasn't and it worked!

Also, a bonus on Friday, I talked to both sisters and my dad on the phone.

I pruned some plants on Saturday and told Mark that I thought I was ready to take over their care again.

It feels great to feel like I'm back!

Shannon and I went to lunch on Saturday and it was so nice to reconnect.  She kindly asked me if I wanted to talk about my mom and I did.  (Sometimes I don't.)  It felt good to recount a little about the funeral and my feelings surrounding it all.  

Saturday afternoon, Mark and I took a walk.  He asked if he could interview me because he needed to interview someone with cancer for his health class.

I said, "What if you didn't know someone with cancer?" He said it was one of the choices.  

It was a thought provoking conversation.

He asked me the biggest lesson I've learned from having cancer. I told him that I had learned about the power of prayer.  There have been many days that I didn't know how I was going to make it through the day.  I would pray the whole way to school.  It always worked.  Also, I've felt help and strength from the prayers of others.  I never realized how much of a difference it made when people pray for you.

He asked about the response of friends and family to my cancer.  I couldn't have asked for better support and help.  That is humbling to realize.

He asked what advice I would give someone who had just been diagnosed with cancer.  I said I would tell them what Janet told me: take one day at a time.  Figure out what you can control and what you can't and try to only focus on what you can control.  Also, don't google it.  Finally, let people in.  Let people help you.  

He asked what advice I would give the friends and family of someone diagnosed with cancer.  I said, "Be like Adam and Mark.  And everyone else who has been so kind and supportive to me."

Then, Mark told me the ways he had seen me learn and change.

So if you saw me crying on the Murdock Canal Trail Saturday, blame that conversation....

Sunday I led the singing in primary.  I had them roll a die (you can take the girl out of Nevada, but you can't take Nevada out of the girl apparently) and the number corresponded to a song we would sing.  If they rolled a 6, they got to choose a song.

They chose Gethsemene.  I knew they would.  And I don't mind at all because I love that song (also it was number 4, so we sang it twice).

The hardest thing that ever was done,

The greatest pain that ever was known,

The biggest battle that ever was won—

This was done by Jesus!

The fight was won by Jesus!

I know why they like it so much.

Grateful Friday

Yesterday I drove myself to my infusion because Adam is having an extra intense work time (which is saying something because his work is always intense) and Mark had class.  It felt weird going alone, because I usually have my entourage.

In the morning, before leaving I saw that I had a text message from Stephanie and another from Tabor, wishing me well and sending their love.

I realized I wasn't going alone and that means the world to me.

I am also grateful for the good week I've had.

Early Monday morning, Mark dropped us off at the Provo Airport and Adam and I flew to Las Vegas.  It is a very short trip.  The captain said we were at 30,000 feet and we could use the bathroom if we needed to and that we would begin our descent in about 10 minutes.

We rented a car and went to the Aria.  There was supposed to be fine art there, which we determined to look at before our lunch reservation at Din Tai Fung.  We mostly struggled to find the art.  There was a map on an app that was really unhelpful, but we saw some pretty things all the same.

Not the art, just a seasonal display in the lobby.  I took exactly one picture (to send to Emma) and Adam took all the rest.

Adam had been wanting to take me to Din Tai Fung ever since he ate there.  I don't love Chinese food in general, but this was exceptional.  We had these amazing soup dumplings, some OK cucumber salad (I love cucumbers, but it had a strong sesame oil flavor), fantastic green beans, spicy chicken wontons and the show stopping finale: chocolate dumplings in salted cream sauce.  

I look kind of silly in this picture, but I was so proud of myself for using chopsticks to eat, I'll post it all the same.

The cucumber salad came first and I'd struggled so much with the chopsticks that I just stabbed the cucumber and ate it that way.

We walked around some more and went to the Bellagio to look at all the pretty things.  I don't know how anyone would think they had a chance to win much at those casinos.  It's clear the house usually wins!

We drove to our hotel eventually.  It was in Midtown, away from the Strip, and we liked it.

Our hotel was The English.  It was a small boutique hotel with a lot of eclectic style and none of the Las Vegas ick.

This was Adam's office.  He sat under the cabana and worked and I read.

We walked a few blocks to Good Pie for dinner.  It was another restaurant Adam wanted me to try.  We got delicious pizza and enjoyed our quirky waiter.

After dinner we drove to Seven Magic Mountains outside of the city.

Each of the rocks was about 6 feet tall.  There were people there, but I erased them with my editing feature on my phone.  It feels like cheating, but I'm here for it.

Tuesday we lived a life of leisure.  At least I did.  Adam worked quite a bit.  Besides sitting by the pool and working/reading, we went to a nearby state historic site, Old Las Vegas Mormon Fort.  It was pretty fascinating.  The oldest building in the state, built by pioneers sent there to make an outpost for people on their way to San Bernardino, settled it.  We love history and learning about places.

We had an interesting dinner at a restaurant called Chicago Joe's.  Adam hadn't eaten there, but it was in a cute brick house and had good reviews and was in walking distance to our hotel.  

There was a man smoking on the front porch and a Closed sign next to him.  According to the website, they were supposed to be open.  We asked the guy and he said, "Yeah, go in, they're open."

It was a bizarre dining experience.  The waiters seemed wholly surprised that we were there.  They also were taken aback by two other parties that joined later.  The food was pretty good and we were entertained by the once again quirky waitstaff and a very dramatic phone call several of them participated it (the man who had been smoking on the front porch was an employee too and he had a session on the phone with the rest of them).  There was a landline at a nearby desk and one of them would talk urgently, then set the phone down and get another employee to talk to whoever was on the phone.  

That evening we went to Donny Osmond.  Earlier in the afternoon, I'd napped while Adam scoped out the show.  He is excellent at figuring out ways to make things seamless for me.  As a bonus, he got to try out a gadget.  It was a win win.

We took a Vay.  There was one waiting for us down the street a bit from our hotel.  Adam unlocked it with his phone, we hopped in, drove to the Strip and parked behind the super sketchy Best Western casino.  The car drove away by itself.

Adam led me on a little path he'd figured out through the unsavory low end casinos.  At Harrah's we went right up an escalator to the show.  Adam is a wonder.  He figures things out.

We were very much in the cheap seats, but when the show was about to start, an usher tapped Adam on the shoulder and said, "Follow me."  He led us down to the not cheap seats and we found ourselves in the 6th row!  

The show was great.  Donny Osmond is an amazing entertainer.  We were about 15 years younger than most people there.  He sang a lot of songs from his 60 years in show business.  My favorites were from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and the song from Mulan.  There were dancers and a live band and lots of audiovisual marvels.  He sang "Puppy Love" with an avatar of himself as a 14 year old.  The whole thing was very enjoyable.

At one point, Donny went down the stage, giving high fives.  I could have very easily stood up and reached for a high five.  Adam said that I should.

I said, "That doesn't sound like something I would do."

Adam concurred.

We wend our way back to the parking lot behind the Best Western and a driverless car drove up.  We got inside and drove back to our hotel.  The alternative would have been to self park.  Adam was pretty proud of the fact that the Vay was cheaper than parking would have been.  Self parking was a ways away and I was also very grateful that we didn't need to walk much.  He always takes such good care of me!

Wednesday, we lounged by the pool.  It was restful to be so lazy!  We walked down the street for a delicious lunch--again at a place Adam had eaten at before.  I like traveling to places where he knows all the good places.

In the afternoon we flew home, Mark picked us up and we were happy to see him and happy to be home.

After my infusion yesterday--easier without chemo, but I was still pretty wiped out--I sat in my chair mostly.  Mark and I took a very short walk and he makes an excellent personal trainer.  He tells me over and over that I'm doing well.  He says, "You're getting stronger all the time!" and "You can do this!"

He also asks me every few minutes how I'm doing.  I'm grateful to have a Mark in my life.

Weekend

 I looked forward to the weekend and it did not disappoint. 

Friday night we went to YEN (Young Empty Nesters--a self designation because there is an old, really old, group).

We met at the Roberts' house and everyone brought food.  Good food.  Stephanie had set the table with china and crystal and candlelight.  Palm leaves ran down the center of the table.  We ate and visited, then there were small plastic eggs along the table and we took turns reading the scriptures inside that were about Holy Week, the crucifixion and resurrection.  Some people shared reading glasses.  (We really aren't that young, it turns out.)

We stayed visiting about all sorts of things, important and trivial, and finally I couldn't do it anymore and we left.  It was past my bedtime and my body was feeling it.

I'm glad we had a chance to get together though.  I love that group.

Saturday I felt kind of sick--staying up late, cumulative fatigue from the week, I don't know.  I do know that it is frustrating.

We watched General Conference and I loved it.  I loved hearing talks about Jesus Christ and our place in His kingdom.  Between sessions we drove to Via 313 for lunch.  On the way, Adam asked me what I was thinking about and I said Jesus.  He said, "Well, that's good."

I was thinking about what exactly He knew.  He had a lot more perspective than the rest of us, but I think He also had the inborn desire that mortals have not to want to suffer, not to want life to end.  I was thinking about my mom.  She had those inborn desires too.  I have those desires.  I feel frustrated so often about my inability to do what I want to do without getting exhausted.  I just want to live my life and then I remember what Adam reminded me of once:  this is my life.

Jesus didn't shrink from God's plan for His life.  It gives me a lot to think about.

During conference, I peeled the labels off broken crayons I have been collecting all year.  I crushed them and melted them into letters.  I am going to give them to my students at the end of the school year.  I needed 6 A's because that is how many students I have whose name start with an A.  

That night, I slept nearly 10 hours.  I am going to make it!

Sunday, I think I enjoyed General Conference even more.  I couldn't have ordered up better messages for a girl who is grieving the loss of her mother and stressing about the uncertainty of cancer. 

We had an Easter feast, prepared largely by Adam.  I set the table and Emma made the deviled eggs and Mark reached the blue goblets from the top shelf.  We enjoyed our time together.  Emma went home and the rest of us took a walk.

After our walk, we watched a few episodes of The Count of Monte Cristo.  I had the thought I should tell my mom about it, because she would like it.  Then I remembered.

Today, Adam and I are flying to Las Vegas for a speedy little getaway before my immunotherapy infusion on Thursday.  I am looking forward to spending time together and doing a whole lot of nothing.  I am not taking my computer, but I'll be back!

Grateful Friday

 I'm grateful that we've had rain and snow (mostly on the mountain).  I'm grateful that all the faithful people who are praying for rain are having their prayers answered.

I wish they'd be a little more specific.

I would love all the rain, except for during recess.  The past two days were inside recess and it is going to be my undoing.  They need recess and I need them to have recess.

We went out to our second recess yesterday afternoon.  I had recess duty.  It was 25 degrees and the wind was blowing hard.  It was so cold.  There wasn't a chance I was going to call it off though.  Run, children!  Run!

They came in all buzzed up and I sat everyone down and made them do a little iReady then we passed out papers and cleaned out desks.  Then we had a few minutes left and I put a Pixar short on the screen.  I just needed them to stop yelling.

I'm really (really) grateful for Spring Break.  I'm looking forward to some time with Adam.  I'm getting my first infusion of immunotherapy without chemotherapy so we'll see how that goes.

I'm grateful I don't need a sub for that occasion.

I'm grateful Mark (and Adam) have been walking with me when Kim can't.  I want to walk to build up my strength and they are kind to go with me.

I'm grateful we have a special Good Friday YEN tonight.  

It's a good life.

The little sister

 The summer I was fourteen, I went to youth conference at BYU.  Marianne had gone for two years previously and had regaled us with tales of youth conference.  One thing she loved was the huge dance they had in the Wilkinson Center ballroom.  Hundreds and hundreds of kids from all over packed into the ballroom.  Marianne had been asked to dance again and again.  It seemed thrilling to me.

Alas.

I stood awkwardly with a group of friends until they were gradually asked to dance, one by one.  I moved miserably to another group until they were gradually asked to dance, one by one.  It was humiliating.  I felt ugly in my glasses and braces and completely wrong with my inability to be even a little bit flirty.  I was a failure, I was sure.

My mom happened to be a chaperone for youth conference that year.  She watched me and could have chalked it up to no big deal.  How important is one youth conference dance in the scheme of things?  In reality, not that important.  The reason I remember the night so clearly, the reason it stands out from other occasions of social awkwardness, is because my mom didn't just assume I'd be fine.

She witnessed my mortification and asked me if I wanted to go get ice cream.  We left the dance and went to buy a scoop of the BYU Dairy's best.  Then, we walked around the Wilkinson Center and my mom didn't give me any platitudes about how this dance's success wouldn't make or break my life.  I don't remember her saying anything about it.  We just walked around and chatted and she showed me where she used to sit in the Wilkinson Center and the ways it had changed and the ways it had stayed the same.

She saw me.  I was good enough.  

A few years later, I was in Mr. Swabb's history/government classroom.  At our tiny school, he had taught Marianne in the same class.  Marianne, who would go on to get a degree in teaching speech and debate, loved sparring with Mr. Swabb.  I think he loved it too.  

He didn't love that I was quiet.  I had no beef with anything he said, I just drew flowers in the margins of my dutifully taken notes.  At parent teacher conferences, Mr. Swabb told my mom that he wished I were more like Marianne.

My mom said, "We already have a Marianne.  We want Thelma to be like Thelma."

My mom told me about the conversation when she got home.  She knew full well that everyone at our school compared me to my successful older sister, including me.

She wanted me to know that she didn't.

She saw me.  I was good enough.

Today is my mother's birthday.  I will never forget how she made me feel.  I will never forget that she wanted Thelma to be Thelma.  I will never forget that she saw me.