This past year has been a dynamic one for our family. We have experienced many joys and many sorrows.
As far as life in general goes, Richard is still enjoying the work he does as a scientist at Moxtek and the added convenience of working so close to home (3 blocks). He is relieved to have been released from his calling as a Gospel Doctrine teacher (although he was very good) and is now serving as the Sunday School President. After two years of exhaustion for us, Tommy is finally sleeping straight through the night and we are starting to feel like real people again, instead of sleep deprived zombies. This added energy has helped me do things that otherwise seemed impossible. I have joined the Millennial Choir with Rachel and truly enjoy the time I get to spend with her singing songs about our Saviour, as well as some fun classics. (More on that later). I have also started working from home as a research assistant for a competency based education platform called Learning Objects, (job courtesy of Jon Mott, an old boss and friend). It has been validating to work within the field of my degree again and my mind has appreciated the intellectual stimulation and challenge. I also love that I can still be at home with my sweet Tommy and do all the important things first, like going to the park, playing with trucks and cars, and eating icecream.
A week or two before I was offered the job, I watched a TED talk about time management that was especially impactful for me. The presenter explained that when people say “I just don’t have time for that” what they really mean is that it is not a priority for them. People make time for the things that they really want to do and the things that are truly important for them. If life feels out of control or off balance, it is because you have lost sight of your priorities and you are spending your time on things that don’t really matter to you.
When I was offered the job, I considered the time it would take from my already busy week and examined where and how I was spending my time each day. I was able to identify at least 2 hours a day that I was wasting on unimportant things (such as social media and well, just social media). As I’ve realigned my priorities, I’ve been able to find the hours I need to complete my work and still put my home and family first. I’ve found that I have a great capacity to live in the moment as well, and really soak up my one-on-one time with Tommy, or my date nights with Rich. I’m learning to importance of quality time versus quantity time. I am also more driven to push past my morning grogginess and get in that extra load of laundry or dishes. Not every day is perfect or stress free, but I am finding a good groove and running with it. My new favorite quote is one that my choir director tells us frequently, which I have applied to finding this balance of time and priorities in my life. The quote goes, “Don’t get discouraged; get determined!” This in my personal mantra now as I attempt to have my cake and eat it too, per se. Or rather, as I seek to do two things I really love at the same time: be a good, nurturing and present mother and engage in an intellectually stimulating career. It has required discipline, but so far, it has been worth it.
Tommy is exploding developmentally. He has become a grand mimic and jabbers away all day, sometimes saying new words or phrases that we know we did not actively teach him. He loves playing/pestering the kitty and playing with his trucks, cars, and trains. It has been a joy to watch his mind work things out, like how to use a screwdriver or how to plug headphones into the computer. I think we may have a future engineer on our hands. In addition to being a curious little boy, he is also very kind and sweet. He is obedient and helpful and loves putting his toys away, throwing garbage in the bin, washing his face, hands, and feet, and helping me with the dishes. He is a bit of a neat freak, which is weird, because Rich and I struggle in that department. It has challenged us to be a bit cleaner though, which has been good all around. The best part about raising Tommy so far has been re-discovering the world as he discovers it for the first time. Things that had become mundane or commonplace are now new, interesting, and inspiring. I think God definitely knew what he was doing when he designed families and sent parents these tiny people with huge capacities for learning and love.
When I have pondered what I would like to share most with our family, my mind has been drawn to the passing of my sweet mother-in-law, Diane, and what that experience has taught me. I’d like to first share a personal journal entry/musing, entitled The Dying, that I wrote in January when her health was rapidly declining. It is raw and personal, and keep in mind I was reading a lot of John Steinbeck at the time. I want to share it though, because I’d like to be transparent in regards to how life has been for us lately, including the good and the bad. Because in the end, it has all enlarged my capacity for love and empathy and opened my eyes to the grand complexities of the human experience our Heavenly Father designed for us.
“The Dying”
I’ve never experienced the dying of someone close to me. I say the dying, instead of the death, because death is an instance, a happening of once, and dying is a process. My father died when I was an infant, so I didn’t experience the dying, but only the aftermath of lifelong grief. My sister died while I was abroad in Europe and my grandpa died while I was in missionary service in England. For all three relatives, I escaped the dying, and entered the experience in medias res, just coping with the aftermath of death. Like only seeing the second half of a movie, or starting a song halfway through. I’m finding out that it is a very incomplete experience.
My sweet mother-in-law is dying now, from cancer, and I am experiencing all that perhaps I missed before in the dying. It’s longer than I thought it would be. I’m learning that the dying is not just heartbreak at the moment the ghost is given up, but little breaks and fractures all along the way, as signs of death become more evident, pronounced, obvious, glaring. These signs I didn’t expect either. They’re not just signs of an aggressive illness--the hair loss, the fatigue, the rapid aging. They are the moldy vegetables I find when I clean out her refrigerator. They are the simple things she forgets, like the names of my son and husband, (her grandson and son). They are the forgotten birthdays. They are her quiet house, smelling stale, and aging and decaying in sync with her sick body. They are the vase of decaying flowers in her living room--still lovely in a way, but dried up, frail, and disintegrating. The unopened Christmas presents in January that lay under an undecorated tree. There are worse signs of the dying: the empty conversations--because I don’t know what to say. Because it is hard to know what to talk to her about when she can’t remember the past and cannot plan for the future. It’s the shedding of her own tears, mourning the loss of her own life--the cruel reality for her of being aware that she is dying and not being at peace about it. It’s the not knowing what to say to console this dying woman. It’s a sad awkwardness and emptiness that fills the house. The not knowing how to act, not knowing if my expressions of love for her resonate to her through her veil of painkillers and anti nausea medication and chemo-brain and sleep deprived madness. The worse signs of the dying are the moments of self-loathing and weakness when I need to be strong for my husband, but am not. The wishing that she didn’t mean so much to me so I could be the one to be there for him. Because he means so much to me, my husband. It’s the hurting for him, as I see him in pain, and the hurting for me, because I love her too.
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While I wrote that entry two months ago, this quote sums up a lot of my current feelings:
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go” ~ Jamie Anderson
Throughout the weeks that have followed Diane’s passing, as I search through my grief for divine understanding, these three thoughts have come to my mind in quiet moments.
1) I understand now what Mom meant when she called me a blessing. I never questioned Mom’s sincerity when she told me that I was a great comfort to her and the family after Dad died, I just didn’t understand how that could be. It seemed to me that having a new baby at such a sad and stressful time would only make things worse. Now, I am understanding what a blessing it is to have a young, happy, innocent, oblivious toddler in your midst during a time of such sorrow. Tommy has truly been our saving grace, to use a cliche phrase. He brings laughter and fun to our home and we have been able to experience so much joy through our sadness because of his sweet, fun-loving personality.
2) I will need to lean on my Savior to know how to move forward and how to heal. For a few weeks, I was stuck, as you might say, in the phase of grief labeled “anger”. I wasn’t angry at anyone or anything, or even angry at God. I was just angry. Whenever I‘ve thought about Diane, I just hated it! Hated that it happened and there was no way to reverse it. Hated that Tommy would miss out on knowing such a delightful grandmother. Hated that I missed her so much. As the days pressed on and I found no respite from my anger, I began to wonder how I would ever move past this, or if I ever would. Would I always be angry about it? One day, as Tommy was napping and I was washing the dishes, in a quiet moment it occurred to me that I hadn’t yet appealed to my Saviour for aid. It was an obvious answer, but one that I hadn’t yet considered. And while I am still a little angry, but mostly sad about it now, I have great hope and faith that my Saviour will guide me through this. I trust in Him because He has never failed to help me in the past. It is also a comfort to know that He will help me know through the divine power of the atonement how I can best help Richard and his family.
3) On that same note, I have experienced an especially tender mercy from the Lord just this week. The choir that Rachel and I sing in is performing in just two weeks. We are singing a variety of songs, both classic and spiritual, that should be a real treat for us and our audience on the saturday just before Easter Sunday. Our conductors have asked us to pray for our audience; pray that the spirit will work through the music to strengthen their faith in Christ. Richard and some of his family members will be attending our concert and I have had them in mind as I pray. Then, this week, the morning of our last rehearsal, we received an email letting us know that a new song had been added to our program and that we would be learning it tonight. The song is an arrangement of “Be Still My Soul” and as I have practiced it and sung the lyrics, it has been clear to me that it is a song that I need to sing, and a song that Richard’s family needs to hear.
Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side; With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain. Leave to thy God to order and provide; In ev'ry change he faithful will remain. Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav'nly Friend Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
I look forward to our concert with a humble and grateful heart. God is truly in the details of our lives, and our Saviour Jesus Christ truly knows us personally and knows how to heal our hearts.
“And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:12).
I’m grateful that we are in the loving hands of our Savior, the master healer. I know I can look to the future with faith and trust in His ability to guide my little family through these hards times with compassion and love. I am grateful for the love and service each one of you have extended to us. I hope you know that you kind words, service, and prayers have been a great comfort to us. I love you all and look forward to strengthening our family ties through this newsletter and am excited to read through your experiences and thoughts.
