town hall

2 years bald

2020-08-14T13:28:00.003-07:00

I've been bald more than two years and I think it's permanent. I lived almost 45 years with hair and, now, God willing, I'll live another 45 without.

Oddly, when my hair all fell out is when we were moving just down the road, from one suburban town to another. So, my old town knows me with hair, and my new town does not. My new town friends can't even imagine me with hair and when any of them see pictures of me with hair I'm practically unrecognizable to them. My old town friends know me both ways and my old town acquaintances do not recognize me at all. My hairlessness feels divided.

My children sometimes mistaken old men for me. They'll see a bald, elderly old man driving down the road and sometimes they'll wave, thinking it was me. I've thought about taking a group picture of myself and all of my bald friends at church. Kind of a #squadgoals type of thing, but how do I explain that to my geriatric pals? They barely use email.

My kids like me bald, at least that's what they say. Spencer is determined I stay bald, always. He seems to forget that I had hair and thinks there is no reason for me to get a wig or anything. It's sweet. He loves his bald mama.

Most of the time I don't think much about it. Us humans adapt to new situations more quickly that we assume. But, in public, I remember. Just today, as I was taking out the trash and then heading over to grab my mail, the street sweeper drove slowly by. He waved and nodded. And, I thought "He can see I'm bald." And, I waved and smiled back.

Isn't it funny that I spend a good amount of time thinking about my baldness when so many people around me barely notice? My family spends zero time considering it. My friends, maybe a little time, and the general public may notice at first, but then move onto other pressing thoughts almost immediately.

I often tell myself that the losing my hair is a small price to pay for being alive. And, it's true. Yet, getting to a deep sense of acceptance for a life of hairlessness is a whole other hill to climb. I spend time looking at wigs online. Raquel Welch has a line of wigs that look nice. How would I choose? The length, the shade, the cut and style? It seems overwhelming and expensive so I put it on the back burner. But, then I remember, 45 years is a long time to have a bald head. I'll need to make a decision at some point. I like hair. I want the option to have hair on my head. Maybe I'd love a wig?

Losing hair for a woman, and a man, too, is multi layered (no pun intended). Hair and hair styles create a lot of femininity for women. Long hair, in particular, evokes all sorts of thoughts and ideals. The decision to curl, straighten, pull back or pull up your hair creates "looks" and gives options. Women often hide behind their hair. Hair can speak to age and ethnicity. The lack of it often feels bland and boring. I have the same "hair style" every day.

Being female and bald lends itself to a need to explain. But there is no succinct synopsis, so I say nothing and let others come to their own conclusions. It came from cancer treatment, but I'm not in the midst of the cancer battle right now, for which I'm grateful, yet it's a permanent reminder of where I've been and where I could go again. Nowadays, the doctors consider it Alopecia, which it is, because it's from my immune system, but my immune system went rogue because of the cancer drugs, and I took cancer drugs because I have cancer. So, you tell me. Why am I bald? Nevermind, it doesn't matter.

Tight like unto a dish

2020-02-05T12:58:00.001-08:00

Giving one of my chickens a bath

I was asked to speak in stake conference last October. This was my first, and perhaps, last time doing so. The subject assigned was "being converted to Christ", which I loved and was thankful to have time to really ponder this topic in my life. I spoke for 14 minutes, and it went well. I'm going to leave a copy of my talk on here if anyone is interested in reading it.

Tight Like Unto a Dish

May 9, 2017 was a watershed day in my otherwise common and unremarkable
life. Just prior, I had been on a quick trip to Utah to pick up my daughter from her
first year of college. While away, I began to feel quite unwell. I had a small, yet
unrelenting cough, my appetite was diminishing, and I was growing more and
more fatigued. I thought, perhaps, I was coming down with pneumonia and by
that Tuesday, the 9th, I was in rough shape. That morning I mustered enough
energy to “get ready” for the day, but half way through I found myself laying on
my bathroom floor wondering why I was taking a nap there. And then it hit me, I
had fainted. Something was very wrong. What next transpired was a trip to
urgent care, an ambulance ride to St. Vincent’s and ultimately a search for why
my lungs were full of dozens of blood clots.

I spent six days in the hospital, first in the ICU, then later on a floor in which I was
the youngest patient by several decades. After countless scans, blood work and
examinations, it wasn’t long before talk of cancer became the leading contender
as to why I was so desperately ill.

From my journal, about that day-
May 11 quote. The first hardest day of my life. I had been moved to a regular
hospital room, and had a multitude of doctors coming in and out of my room
asking me questions and assisting in my recovery. On Thursday morning I met
with Dr. Barber who is a Hematologist/Oncologist. He told Wes and I point blank
that all the signs were pointing toward cancer and he was fairly certain I had it.
He was ordering a biopsy of my swollen lymph node in my hip for the next day.
That biopsy would give us conclusive answers to my situation. Also, he said I had
some spots in my liver and some nodules in my lungs.

So, throughout that day we told our loved ones, one by one, that I most likely had
cancer and we were not sure what kind.

It is a terrible thing to drop a bomb like that on your loved ones. The look of
shock, sorrow and then tears was devastating. But, it had to be done. There is no
gentle way to tell someone you love that you have cancer. Telling our kids was
the worst. I will never forget their faces. The fear, the panic, the devastation, it
cuts like a knife right to your heart. So while Wes and I were still processing the
news ourselves, we were comforting and crying with those that mean the most to
us. unquote

As the weeks rolled by the shock faded and reality set in. Early on I knew I had a
choice to make. I could think thoughts that would lead me to become angry,
bitter and distances myself from my earthly family and my heavenly home. Or, I
could choose to go “all in”. I was tempted to think, why me? Most people do.
It’s natural to wonder as to how you got to the place you are in, especially when
you didn’t “choose it”. Yet, every time my brain wanted to ask, why me, I
responded with, why not me? I had signed up for this the moment I chose to
follow God’s plan of redemption. Sure, it was shocking, and crushing, but it was
my life and I had better get busy with it.

Again, from my journal-
June 6th 2017- quote. Over the weekend a lot of tears were shed. Mostly mine.
I'm angry. I don't want my new reality. I am struggling to accept my situation.
Additionally, I am consistently pained in helping others I love deal with their grief
too. It's raw.

Imagine you spend your whole life living life A. All you know is life A. You
blissfully walk along the path of life A feeling like you have input and bits of
control about how you develop life A. Life A has its ups and downs, of course, but
life A is what you chose and you adore it. Then, you wake up one day and life A is
gone. You've been put in a whole new experience called life B. You have
absolutely no experience with life B. Life B contains new terrain, a new language,
new people and a gigantic boulder that is on your path and your purpose, in order
to keep living, is to push that boulder aside. Gratefully, all the people you love
from life A are with you in life B and they are doing everything they can to help
you adjust to life B, but it is going to take everything you have and everyone you
have to push that massive boulder aside, and there are no guarantees it can be
done. And now that is your life, life B.

I'm grieving life A.

But it is imperative that I and my support team start pushing the boulder. Life B
will not allow me to wait and adjust. Life B is insistent. Unquote

The reason I share this is to let you know, that I know. I have paid, and continue
to pay the price, required to know Jesus Christ. He truly succors me, and in that
succoring I have been transformed into what he wants me to be. And, I know that
whatever is to come will continue to knock off my rough edges as I am refined by
Him.

You are probably familiar with the story of the brother of Jared as he leads the
Jaredites to the promised land. Often, we focus on the brother of Jared’s
experience of lighting the barges and providing air to breathe. But, I would like to
focus on Ether 2:17 where we are told a familiar description of how the barges
were to be built.

Let me share,
And they were built after a manner that they were exceedingly tight, even that
they would hold water like unto a dish; and the bottom thereof was tight like unto
a dish; and the sides thereof were tight like unto a dish; and the ends thereof
were peaked; and the top thereof was tight like unto a dish; and the length
thereof was the length of a tree; and the door thereof, when it was shut, was
tight like unto a dish.

Now, the phrase “tight like unto a dish” is used 5 times in that one verse, perhaps
it is of importance? Built as instructed, these barges were not going to sink. They
were going to be able to withstand the water that would be forced upon them as
they journeyed across the sea. These barges were perfectly prepared for the
journey and there was nothing to fear. Nothing.

We are like these barges. We have been crafted to withstand what comes our
way. Listen closely to the last part of verse 24

For behold, ye shall be as a whale in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves
shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of
the sea; for the winds have gone forth out of my mouth, and also the rains and
the floods have I sent forth.

The wind has come forth out of His mouth. Ask yourself, are calm seas and no
wind going to get you to where you are going? In this scenario you are without a
motor or any other means of projection, so no wind, means no progress.
What about the rains and the floods. That sounds like a lot of tossing to and fro.
Maybe some sea sickness? Darkness and gloom. Yet, these rains and theses
floods are often what propel us forward. Getting us out of our comfort zone, the
rising waters create urgency and movement.

Continuing in Ether 2:25 it says, “And behold, I prepare you against these things
for you cannot cross the great deep. Save I prepare you against the waves of the
sea and the winds which have gone forth and the floods which shall come. “
Save I prepare you. What a simple and profound statement. The winds in your
life are supposed to blow. Maybe it is a result of our own agency, maybe it is a
result of other people’s agency and maybe it’s no one’s fault. Regardless it’s
supposed to be a very rocky ride and we are supposed to be tossed about. For
me, for you and for everyone else on earth.

Now, believe me, I know it is challenging. It can literally take your breath away,
but the Lord, if you’ll recall, never describes this journey as easy. He’s like, yes, it’s
going to toss you and turn you in ways you can’t even imagine. And, you’re going
to have to dig deep. You’re going to need to rely on Me. I am the light and the
life of the world. I have prepared you and I am still preparing you. I’ve got you.
One of the things I have done since being diagnosed with cancer is deciding to be
“all in” with everything. I’m like, bring it. Treatment, I’ll take it. I want the best,
the most, the everything. Additionally, I have devoted time and energy to
understanding everything about my diagnosis. I read anything and everything to
do with my illness. Finally, I embrace all of the side effects of treatment. Typically
my mindset is yes, give’em to me. I can take it. I’m all in when it comes to fighting
cancer.

Again, a blurb from my journal…

January 18th 2019- quote
I have worked really hard to manage my mind around these side effects of
treatment. I’m choosing to absorb them into my life and not let them be a huge
hurdle to overcome in my brain. I just decide to accept them and invite them to
stay as long as they need to and then if they do leave I'm thankful that they have
left, but I acknowledge that another one could come to take its place and that is
okay, it is welcome. Does this make sense? I think I've just been able to make
room for them all and they get to come along for the ride. Instead of thinking
that I don't want them or I can't take them with me. I tell myself of course I can
take them with me. They are supposed to be with me and I am able to figure
them out and then absorb them into my life.

Let me give you an example. For a while I had the side effect of mouth sores.
Mouth sores are physically really painful if you are intent on eating or using your
mouth in any fashion. When the mouth sores showed up for the first time, it was
quite upsetting. I felt defeated and even cried some. Not from the pain I was
experiencing at that exact moment, rather from the thought that this will be hard
to have become part of my daily life. I was crying about the future pain and
frustration I would possibly experience. What would I eat? How would I eat? How
would I maintain my weight? How would I deal with the pain? My mind swirled
with these thoughts. I never thought that I would stop treatment, I just thought,
how can I manage this? This is a tough one to absorb. Slowly, I did. I got as much
help as I could medically with prescription mouthwashes and such. I figured out
what I could eat. I drank a lot, because that didn't hurt. And, most importantly, I
decided in my mind that this experience was okay and that it was part of my
journey and I was supposed to experience it. Then in my brain I let it go. I didn't
fight it. Weeks and weeks went by and this was just another side effect that I
absorbed into my life. Interestingly, it decided to leave after about eight weeks. I
have no idea why. I just stopped having mouth sores after treatment.
But, some of my other difficult side effects have not left, and that is okay too.
And, I will have new issues arise in the future. Guaranteed. I am genuinely
interested to see what those are and how I can embrace them and make room for
them.

I can figure it out. Unquote

Of course, being all in doesn’t just have to do with our physical experiences.
Often what is the most challenging are the mental and emotional battles we
engage in. I am no different. Anxiety, she’s my best friend. We hang out
together a lot. Fear, worry, all of the unknowns- it’s all part of my experience.
I’m getting to learn how to feel them and how to live with them. Instead of
running away from these negative emotions or trying to sooth myself with
distractions like chocolate or Netflix, I lean into them. I feel them all. I talk to God
about it. He’s a great listener. I trust him. I seek to understand that which I am
to learn from my experience. Prayer has become my everything and it can
become yours, too. It is our direct line to God as we are tossed upon the stormy
seas of life. God reveals Himself to us in our utmost need.

We are members of Christ’s church. We have everything we need to be true
disciples of Him. Our personal conversion is the tar that seals our barges up and
makes them tight like unto a dish. I know and believe in the great plan of
happiness. All of these earthly ups and downs are part of the plan. This life is a
journey. There is much for us to experience and learn. I challenge you to lean in.
Experience it, the beautiful and the crushing. Trust Him, listen to Him and come
unto Him.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen

**some of the ideas for this talk come from a podcast by Jody Moore entitled, Tight Like Unto a Dish.

The next chapter...

2019-12-12T07:09:00.000-08:00

Tuesday afternoon I tearfully walked out of my doctors office after having said my goodbyes. He's leaving. On to a new gig that takes him out of my network and insurance coverage. And, in a way, I'm leaving. I'm done with my course of treatment and now my medical team is giving me the proverbial push out the front door. See ya, Steph! Have a great life!

Of course I'm not really done with doctors and medical stuff. I'm on a very detailed "watch and wait" protocol. But, in so many ways the daily grind of blood tests, infusions, scans, specialists and doctors appointments are in my rear view mirror. I'm not sure what to think.

We've all been working so hard to get me to this point. And, now I've made it. I'm still kickin'.

People are like, do you still have cancer? And, I'm like, maybe? Or maybe not? Time will tell is the actual answer. Melanoma is not a cut and dried, you've got it or you've not got it cancer. It's a sneaky bad boy that likes to lurk in microscopic amounts in your otherwise sparkling clean body and then make a grand reappearance whenever the heck it wants to. Could be a year from now, could be 25 years from now. Could be never. The specialists in my field are very reluctant to ever use the word cure when stage four is your game, and melanoma is your name.

So, yeah. And, I'm still bald so I scream sad little cancer patient. I'm not really having an identity crisis, but maybe I am? I've been hardcore cancer fighting woman for almost three years now, and that's done. For now. But, I really can't go back to old me, because pre-cancer Steph is long gone. In ways I barely remember her. She was great and funny, but also fussy and just, I don't know. Not who I am anymore.

I remember talking to an associate just a few weeks after I was diagnosed, and he said something that was so startling and enraging that I kinda hated him for it. I had just made my way back to attending church. I so desperately wanted to take the sacrament, but so much else about church was difficult for me- the music, the relationships, The Spirit. But, anyways, I'd gone because I needed to and as I was speaking with this man he said "You must feel really lucky that God thought so much of you as to give you this experience?" And, I mean, you guys, I was tied to an oxygen tank and could barely walk thirty yards at this point. And, this man, in whom I hold no ill will at all, was not trying to be mean or unkind, he really genuinely meant what he said, I just was not ready to hear it. And, I felt rage when he said that to me. White hot fiery rage boiled up inside me as he suggested that my "trial" was some sort of grand gesture of love toward me from my Heavenly Father.

But, now. Maybe. I'm getting there. I don't really think of it as a luck thing. We aren't really being doled out challenges based on luck. But, I am grateful. And, I don't really think God gave me this challenge as much as being a mortal person made the opportunity to have this challenge possible. Like, I don't really see it as God as some big card dealer in the sky who is throwing cards your way and you have to just make the best of what your dealt. It's not that simple.

I will admit that I am so much more than I ever was before this experience. And, I never want to not be what I've become through it, so...

Life is wild right? I remember a couple months after being diagnosed and I'd think about how I was literally living some, actually a lot, of people's worst nightmares. Like being told you have stage 4 cancer and have a high likelihood of dying is not what most people want to hear or live with, but I was. I was walking around with it. Owning it. Thriving.

But, actually, cancer isn't your worst nightmare. Other things may be, but to me, no. It's a challenge, do not get me wrong, but it is also a beautiful refining process that can shape you into so much more than you ever dreamt you could become.

I'm thinking about writing a book. Seriously, I feel compelled to. Not because I have aspirations of becoming some sort of famous author, but because I want this all written down in a nice clean compartment in which I or anyone else who is interested can access it.

Teenage girls- life on an emotional roller coaster

2019-10-16T13:38:00.004-07:00

Raise your hand if you've ever sat down for dinner with the family, and out of nowhere your teenage daughter bursts into tears, mumbling incoherently about the injustices of her life, and runs, screaming, toward her bedroom. Hello? Hello? Y'all out there? How ya doin'? You surviving? Take a deep breath.

You're fine, and we're fine. It's all fine, even though in the throws of it, nothing feels fine.

Let me set the stage. A certain daughter, who we'll call Barbara to preserve her dignity, sat around the dinner table with the other three kids and myself. Wes was running late- in our house if you get home from work 5 minutes later that we expect, we will all be sitting there staring at our food, cursing your name, because we eat on a mighty tight schedule, and flexibility is not our forte when it comes to breaking bread together. Anyways, Wes finally arrives and someone quickly blesses the food and off to the races we go, eating and catching up on our day. Real quick, from the corner of his eye, Wes notices that Barbara is sporting a new hairstyle. One chunk of her hair is draped over her right eye. Like the slab of hair has been brushed and sprayed very solidly in such a way as to swoop down and cover her right eye completely. Now Wes and I don't say a word about it. We just look at Barbara and speak to her and her one eyed-ness like it's the most normal thing in the world. Barbara is 13 and we know we must tread lightly when it comes to anything to do with appearance. Babs is a bit, ummmm, sensitive.

Suddenly, and literally, from nowhere, Barbara starts telling us she has had the most horrible rotten day of her life. The tears are flowing freely as she gnashes her teeth and wails inconsolably. The story she's telling us is difficult to discern. Through the sobs and snot that follow we finally piece together that she is distraught about who is, or is not, sitting by her at lunch. I can't remember if she was rejected by another or if she was upset by an intruder, but the dynamics of her lunch table associations is the trigger for an enormous emotional outburst that completely decimated our dinner table tradition.

This is life with a teenage daughter.

If you have not experiences this type of emotional outburst yourself, or within your family dynamic, this all may seem quite illogical and hard to understand. And, if you have experienced this personally or within a family dynamic this may seem quite illogical and hard to understand, too. It is not logical my friends. There is absolutely no rhyme or reason to it. If you think you may be able to "figure it out" you are sorely mistaken. Nothing is to be figured out. Everything is to be experienced to the highest level, treading lightly. Time will eventually right this ship.

One time I found another daughter, lets call her Mabel, weeping and wailing on her bed. It was loud, hard to miss or dismiss. Dutifully, I knocked on the door and inquired as to her grief and she said "I'm crying and I have absolutely no idea why." Loud crying ensues. I gently nod my head and ask, "What can I do to help you?". She's beside herself and unable to use her words, so I hug her tightly and let her cry. Mabel has repeatedly had "cry sessions" over the years. This is simply part of her development. Nothing has gone wrong. Nothing needs to be fixed.

What are we do think as the parents when we encounter these emotional outbursts? I've been a crazed emotional teenager myself, and I've raised a few too, so I thought I'd share a few of my own tips.

1. Don't get emotional yourself. Stay cool. Be the steady rock your child needs. The drama is quite unsettling, but you can do it. Use a calm voice.

2. Empathize. Whatever they are feeling, they are really feeling it. Listen. Don't offer solutions. Acknowledge how they feel.

3. Have a sense of humor. Don't be funny in the moment, heavens no. But, be your own Jim Halpert- even look at the camera if you need to. Keep it all in perspective and for the love of all that is good in the world, write it down in your journal. This stuff is family gold!

4. Be patient. This "phase" is lengthy. Could be 4-5 years if your lucky, a decade if your not. Settle in. Whisper phrases to yourself like "bring it" and "this is going to be fun".

Now, to give you all a glimpse into my past and help you understand that your emotional train wreck of a daughter (or son, who knows?) is not beyond redemption and that someday she will be supporting her own emotional landmine children herself, so I'll end with one of my own favorite emotional upheavals of my teenage past.

When I was 16, I was madly in love with a boy from my high school. We had been an item, sort of on, and a little bit off for the better part of my junior year. I had set my sights on him asking me to my junior prom that was just a couple months away. After spending the day skiing together wherein we did a lot of skiing and a lot of kissing, I thought is was a "sure thing" that he would ask me to prom in the next few weeks. For some reason, we had been exchanging audio tapes of us chatting to each other. Like we'd tape ourselves speaking on a blank audio tapes and give them to each other to listen to and then record over with a new message, and on and on. Why we did this? I have no idea. Anyways, one day, at the end of the school day, he handed me a tape that he had made for me. I was excited and busily headed out to my red Rabbit GTI and popped the tape into my car audio system. He talked about this and that, and then, out of no where told me that he had decided to ask another girl to prom "as a favor" because she was going through a difficult time. I lost it, right then and there. This girl, lets call her Sally, became enemy #1. I loathed her immediately, and this guy. This guy I was in love with...well, while wearing my cheer leading uniform, I made a quick u-turn away from direction of my house, and I drove with wild abandon to his house. I knocked on the door with steam pouring out of my ears and just a few choice words for him. Nonchalantly, he invited me in. He was alone, making a sandwich to pack for dinner before he headed off to his part-time job at the local market. He said something like "what's up? Are you okay?" and I lost it. Crying. Ugly crying. Yelling. Threats. Words like "how could you?", "I'll never" and "don't ever" rolled off my tongue with absolutely no thought. No processing was going on. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would never speak to him again in my life and was done. I turned around, marched out of the kitchen, through the front door and jumped into the front passenger seat of my GTI, as my door handle on the drivers side was broken at the time. I scooted over to the drivers seat and drove off with tears pouring down my face. I was crushed. I had zero ability to see beyond that exact moment. I thought my life was over and I was lamenting my whole existence. As I drove, and cried, I spotted a cat on the side of South Shore Blvd, and for some, inexplicable reason, I pulled over and scooped up the injured cat, placed in on the seat next to me and headed for home. The cat had been mortally injured, and my mom, bless her heart, took him to the vet to be put down, and I mourned what I thought I would never get over.

And, you know the rest of the story. I got over it. I lived. And, so will my teenage daughters, and so will yours.

BTW, I still have the tape. #neverforget

50/50

2019-09-09T12:55:00.000-07:00

Is it just me is or is everyone these days overusing the term "hard"? High school is hard. Being a mom is hard. Going on a mission is hard. Being old is hard. Being young is hard. Working a 9-5 is hard. Not working a 9-5 is hard. Being married is hard. Being single is hard. Life is hard. We do hard things. Hard, hard, hard. It's becoming the buzz word to make us feel what? Okay? Understood? Better? Worse? Victimized? Resigned? I don't know what the purpose is of describing life as hard. Life is just life. It's good and it's bad. It's wonderful and it's terrible. It's exciting and it's boring. It's everything. Hard is just one element, perhaps a crucial element, but it's not everything. It's a piece of the pie, not the whole pie. Side note- when parent's purposefully choose for their child to have a "hard" experience so they can encourage them to do hard things I want to wash my hands of the human race. Concocting hard things for your kid to do so they can feel like they do hard things is asinine. Amen.

Life, in general, is a mixture of positive emotions, whether you are crossing the plains pulling a handcart or you are sitting in the basement playing video games all day long. We humans, no matter how hard we try, cannot escape the reality of life being a mixture of positive and negative emotions. It's supposed to be that way. We are designed by our Heavenly Creator to have opposition in all things. All things. All.

We just dropped Alice off at Brigham Young University a couple of weeks ago. If ever their were a person who everyone would believe was ready to take on college as an out-going, hard-working, fun to the max freshman, it would be my Alice. Excellent student with superb study habits, check. Outgoing and friendly with no qualms about starting conversations and creating groups of friends, check. Organized, punctual, careful with money, check, check, check. Yet, she ventured off into the great unknown of Provo Utah with a head and heart full of mixed emotions. Homesickness, worry, confusion and frustration. All of those feelings nestled right up to excitement, eagerness, joy and confidence. Along the path of life, even when we are confident it's "the right path", she still experiences a solid mix of 50% positive emotions and 50% negative emotions. Sounds about right?

I will never forget the painful days, now over two years ago, when Wes and I had to tell our loved ones the crushing news of my diagnosis. We literally felt like we were, one by one, brutalizing our family members as we explained my diagnosis and the possible terminal-ness of it. I've never experienced anything like it before and I hope to never have to go through it again. And, of course we sobbed and cried desperately. I'm crying right now as I recall it, it was so horrendous. But, I remember saying something on those difficult days that has been true, and will continue to be true. It was this, "today is a terrible day. And, we will probably have some more terrible days to come, but every day will not be like today. We will have many wonderful days, too. Today is just one day." And, you know what? I was right. We have had some difficult days. Worry, anger, sorrow and fear have been part of this cancer journey, no doubt. But, we have also felt plenty of happiness, peace, excitement and hope. In reality, it's been 50/50. To quote Charles Dickens, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."- Tale of Two Cities.

While at BYU, I was fortunate enough to run into an old friend and her daughter. Her daughter is the same age as Alice and had grown up here in Oregon, before later moving to Utah during high school. This daughter was waiting the final few weeks before she heads off to serve an 18 month mission for the church. While I was talking to her about her upcoming experience, my mouth kept wanting to say how excited I was for her and how I knew she would be a fantastic missionary. And, saying those things wouldn't have been unkind or untrue, but I stopped myself from saying any of it. I told her I loved her. I told her that if I were in her position I would probably be feeling anxious and worried and scared as well as feeling excited. I offered her reassurance that feeling uncertain and petrified seemed absolutely normal and nothing was going wrong. She exhaled and her shoulders let down just a bit. She told me she did have a lot of anxiety and fear and was grateful that I hadn't told her how she should feel, but offered her the option that she should feel it all. Going on a mission is exciting and us friends and family who are left behind often want these young missionaries to "have a great experience" and "be happy in their service" and "feel joy" or, heaven forbid, "do hard things", or whatever other expectations we inadvertently set for them. And, it's really not wrong to think or say any of these kinds of encouragements. But, we also have to remember that going on a mission is a mix. Even at it's best, it's a mixture of ups and downs.

I try to remind myself of this 50/50 rule whenever I assume someone is so blessed and "seems" to have a life of ease. Or, when I think of someone I know who's really struggling with "life challenges". It's not black or white. It's not good or bad. It's both. Exactly how it's supposed to be.

Stop luxuriating in indecision!

2019-07-30T13:11:00.003-07:00

I'm yelling this at myself. This is a thought that I repeat almost as a mantra, because being "stuck" in indecision is one of my favorite pastimes.

Why do I say luxuriating, you may ask? Here's why. I use indecision to be lazy. I use indecision to avoid doing what I want and need to do. Do you? Think about it, and then think a little harder. I'm of the opinion that I am not truly undecided. If you were to strap me to a lie detector machine and asked me if I really didn't know what the answer to my query was, I'd be failing all over the place, because 99.9% of the time, I know. Deep down, I know. Perhaps you do to?

This past winter Wes and I started our much anticipated kitchen remodel. If ever there was a time for me to luxuriate in indecision this would be it! What kind of floors do we want? What style of cabinets? Which appliances should we buy? Should we knock out a wall or two? How about counter tops? Or back splashes? It can be amazingly endless if you get caught in the thick of it all. And, for me, I absolutely love to dither around in the pro's and con's of every sort of everything.

For the longest time I believed that my time spent in indecision was simply a personality trait. Ha! I'm so cute thinking that. I thought I was just born that way! Oh sweet Steph, how adorable was this thought pattern. Sorry kids! I can't decide whether or not to get a trampoline for our backyard so let me take a measly ten years to decide. True story.

So, when we embarked on the kitchen remodel I decided to experiment on my belief that it's hard for me to make final decisions. Interesting? Here's what I did...I have given myself exactly 45 minutes to make any needful choice. How does this play out? Let's take a look at an example- Wes and I had to decide on the flooring. We demoed enough to know that indeed we do have hardwood floors under all of the layers of linoleum and vinyl we dug through. We had some pieces tested because our home is old and there was a decent chance that we'd find asbestos in some of the flooring we were set to remove. And, we did. We have asbestos in the glue and material that the linoleum is made of, and our linoleum in glued directly onto the hardwoods. So, we could either go through the entire process of remediation or we could tile over it. I spent 45 minutes thinking it over and then chose. I could have spent 45 days thinking it over, and then I would have chose. But those 45 days would have just been an avoidance technique because in my gut I knew that I didn't want to deal with the asbestos. I wanted to move forward more quickly and tile was the answer. I just decided.

I think the concept of indecision being something we choose to do rather than simply a fact of our lives is powerful. I'm of the belief that we really don't need very much time to make a decision. Most often our gut is giving us our answer. Often we just know. But, knowing isn't enough for many of us. We can "know" and still mull it over. We'll be like hmmmmm.. just let me ponder. Pondering sounds productive. Sometimes yes, but often no. And, in our heart of hearts we know that deciding must lead to action. Vacillating means we want to avoid doing what we already know we should be doing. Inaction is easy, but we aren't on this earth to wallow in passivity. Passivity hurts our soul. Passivity makes us the victim and life's circumstances the perpetrator. But, you are not a victim. You are on this earth to overcome. And, overcome you must, even if it's frustrating or scary sometimes.

Mostly, there isn't just one right choice. If you think there is, you'll paralyze yourself into not making any choice, fearing that you may make the wrong one. What ever you choose it exactly what you were supposed to choose. And, if you want to make a different choice later you can. But, not choosing, in the end, becomes it's own choice, often the choice that we prefer the least.

Just decide. Decide and move forward. Whatever you choose will have good and bad parts of it. Life always has good and bad parts, and it is in the dealing with the good and the bad that we become. The choice is secondary.

parenting-where a job well done is never done

2019-06-06T11:34:00.000-07:00

I've heard many parents say in great exasperation, "I just want everybody to be happy!" This thought is so appealing. It entices us in as if it is within our power to make our kids happy, even more to make everyone happy at once. All of this is so we can feel happy isn't it? We want happiness, and we think that we can be happy if we think others are happy, namely those we love and care about. If I believed that I would be happy once all of my kids were happy I'd be very unhappy most of the time. Let me ask you this? When you were a kid, or perhaps a teenager, were you always happy? Did you enjoy every single aspect of life? Chicken Pox? Scraped knees? Not being invited to a birthday party? How about a monstrous zit on your lip? Maybe you experience your first heartbreak? Or loss of friendship?

Alice is in the middle of finishing up the loose ends of high school and when she walked through the kitchen door today I expected her to be happy. But, she really wasn't. Instead she had decided to start worrying about the next phase in her life- college, particularly the financial aspect of it. At first I felt irked, like dear, can't we celebrate this mountain you just finished climbing, rather than focusing on the next mountain that will be before you in a matter of months?

This is one of the tough parts of parenting. Just as you feel like you and your child have finished climbing a mountain of unfamiliar and challenging terrain and finally you both summit into a beautiful sunrise of peace and rest, yet another mountain comes into view. Sure you may have a respite for a time, but eventually the climb starts again. Maybe it's with a different child this time, or maybe it's a mountain that is not as difficult to overcome as the prior one, but inevitably it shows up. And sometimes you just don't want to do it. You feel sorry for yourself because you are tired and want things to be smooth and comfortable for a while. A long while to be exact.

But, parenting doesn't work like that. You're the guide. You know the mountain can be climbed. You've done some of them before. You understand what it takes and you are somewhat familiar with the terrain. A huge part of the climb is knowing when to step in and guide and when to step back and let them take the lead. Often they push you away. This is how reaching the summit works.

As your kids become young adults they don't really want you as a guide, but sometimes they do. Often they prefer to treat you like the rescue team that flies in with a helicopter to pluck them off the mountain when the cliffs get too steep or they take a tumble along the way. Technically they don't require a guide. For many parents this is impossible to accept. But think- did you want a guide when you were 20? There will be many mountains during these years, as their should be. They are perfecting their mountianeering skills for the next generation. Before you know it they will be the guide.

How do we handle this responsibility we are called to do? We teach. We train. We make sure they are geared up. We insist on helmets and safety ropes. And then, we stop talking. If they want help from us they will ask us. Sometimes they will blame us for the difficulty they face. Sometimes they will take many twists and turns on their journey to overcome. Don't worry, that's exactly the way it is supposed to be. They are taking exactly the route they were supposed to take. Maybe they take a different path than you did when you climbed this mountain in your past? That's okay. That's is the plan for them all along.

All they really need at this point is for us to encourage them. Love them. Accept them. We struggle with this because we know so much. We think that if they just knew what we know then they wouldn't have to struggle so much. If they would just make the right decisions at the right time then the path up the mountain will be relatively smooth and comfortable and then we can feel better about their experience. But this whole climb is not about us. It's not about how we feel or what we want. We cannot and should not try to control their experience. Maybe they don't even need to climb this mountain. Maybe they are supposed to do nothing when we think they are supposed to be doing something. Maybe they are supposed to camp out at the bottom of the mountain for months, even years, before they take their first few steps up it.

I need to stop believing that there will never be another mountain on the horizon. There will always be. We live upon the rock, what else should we expect? If I am tired, or sad, or maybe I get frustrated, or feel defeated while my children become mountain climbing experts, I must be okay with taking those feelings along with me. I can feel defeated and still continue. Sadness is fine. It can hang out with me as I trek along. Tired is my friend these days. We spend a lot of time together. I climb with tiredness regularly.

How's parenting going for you? Do you feel like you're free climbing right now, and are barely hanging on by your finger tips? Perhaps you're in a crevasse and see no way out? Maybe you've made it to the summit and you're taking pictures and enjoying the view? Let me know. I'd love to hear!

Drop by drop

2019-05-10T12:38:00.001-07:00

Cate is such a role model for me!

Last week I spent two days in Utah attending Women's Conference with Cate. It was wonderful and renewing. Just two years ago I had attended the same conference and the day after I returned home is when my life with cancer began. It was almost surreal to be in attendance this year because it didn't feel like it had been two years in the interim and yet, in many ways, it felt like a lifetime in the interim.

Kathy Christofferson spoke at the final session of the conference and she addressed the concept of "By small and simple things great things come to pass". She referenced visit she had made to the Panama Canal and what inspired her as she had toured it with her husband. They were informed that the rainwater in the surrounding area of the canal provides an adequate water supply to power the innovative lock system that is used to lift and move the enormous ships through the canal giving them passage to make it to the other ocean in which they are destined for. The rainwater that accumulates and powers the canal arrives in the landscape of the canal drop by drop. Little tiny rain drops, when poured down in large amounts over time and space are sufficient to bring to pass massive power that literally connects one ocean to another.

Our lives are like that. Daily behaviors spread over years and years of life result in true change and development. One of my favorite quotes ever is a Peruvian Proverb:

Little by little, one walks far

I think this is why I ran a full marathon once. I needed to literally experience this truth. If you've run a marathon you know exactly what I mean. You watch your body learn to suffer, and in that acceptance of suffering it transforms you. You no longer see it as suffering. You no longer listen to your primitive brain screaming for you to stop. You have risen above. The miles you run, or the steps you take are the droplets of rain destined for grand accumulation. You run as if your mind and body are no longer speaking to each other. It takes thousands and thousands of steps to get there. Running shoes are literally worn through on the way. But, when you arrive in that space of suffering ceasing to hurt, you know in that moment you have finally tapped into the true power of the brain.

This concept of little by little one walks far is applicable in every part of our lives.

When I was a young mother I often listened to all of the well-intended, but seemingly unattainable messages swirling around me. Prepare healthy meals, read books to your children, have family scripture study, keep an orderly home, grow a garden, do family history work, co-sleep with your babies, volunteer to chaperone you children's class field trip, volunteer in the classroom, exercise daily and so on and so forth. These messages often left me feeling like there was no way I could accomplish what I was supposed to accomplish so why try? What good is preparing healthy meals when the majority of your kids are picky eaters and complain about the dinner you painstakingly prepared? How would I keep this home clean when my children seem set on destruction every waking moment? Eventually I realized that these messages may be helpful to some, but to me they made me feel frustrated and unhappy. So, by the time Spencer showed up on the scene my mantra was this "my goal is to keep them alive, and if I get a shower in before Oprah then it is truly a banner day." Once I lowered the bar so low that it would be very easy to meet it, I began to relax and enjoy. Things didn't need to be a big production. Family Scripture study was one scripture a night, for years. The kids and Wes and I cleaned up the toys once a day, right before bedtime. Dinners were simple and sometimes healthy. I told the school I would volunteer in a few years. And, many other things were just dropped completely to be picked up later. Much later.

Young Motherhood in all it's glory!

The things we do each day, that we deem necessary, don't have to be overwhelming. Stop expecting perfection, rather do what you can and then thank yourself for doing it. A couple of Sundays ago we had a lesson in Laurels class about scripture reading. Each of these girls had had at least 23 prior lessons on the exact same topic, so nothing we were talking about was new necessarily, but it was still valuable material. Halfway through the class I could tell that the majority of the girls had checked out. I get it. A lesson about something you have been told to do your entire life, and perhaps you weren't doing it as you knew you should can easily lead to disinterest and disconnection. So, I raised my hand and asked this "tell me how scripture study, or the lack there of, is really going for you guys?" and then some real discussion ensued.

Scripture study is a great example of how we humans get stuck in the mindset of thinking everything is all or nothing. If we can't do diligent scripture study every single night, then maybe we should just give up and do nothing? It's just too much to do what everyone is telling me to do, so I won't do it at all and then I'll beat myself up about it. Helpful? No. I told the girls that years ago I had experienced something similar to what most of them were feeling. I often forgot to read. I sometimes just didn't want to. Personal scripture study just seemed like another thing that was asked of me and since I didn't do it perfectly, it was just easier to not do it at all. At some point, during my twenties, I made a commitment to myself that I would do this: every single day, no matter what, I would read at least one verse of scripture. I lowered the bar so low that is was extremely achievable. And, as the years rolled forward my desire to read grew. I never felt guilty when others preached the importance of scripture study, rather I just, drop by drop, dug in. One verse, one column, one page, one chapter- whatever I could do, I would, but bare minimum, I would read one verse.

This concept of drop by drop, rather than all or nothing, leads to enormous results over time. Try it. It works on almost any goal you may have. Want to journal more? Write one sentence a day. Want to plant a garden, grow one pepper plant. Want to get in shape? Walk ten minutes a day. Want to meditate more? Meditate for one minute a day. Want to learn how to knit? Practice knitting for 10 minutes a day. We often think that to achieve a goal we have to do something radical, and usually unsustainable. Most of the time that strategy fails because it is just too much of a leap for our brains. Our brains will scream back "I don't want to do X for 60 minutes!" So we quit. Try getting your brain to commit to X for 5 minutes instead.

I challenged the Laurels to read just one scripture a day, if they were not in the habit of daily scripture study.

Right now I'm challenging myself to write for 15 minutes a day.

What are you challenging yourself to do?

mini life update...spring edition

2019-04-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Lets go from youngest to oldest so my baby isn't always last. Sidebar- funny story about going last. Spencer was full of angst many times as a young boy and his biggest complaint on the planet was that he was expected to be a gentleman and let girls go first when it came to dishing up food, going in and out of doors, etc...and, I'll never forget the time Wes sat down with him on the couch and explained to him the importance of being gentlemanly and polite and this included letting girls go first and Spencer sobbed and sobbed. He kept saying that he goes last in everything. He was the last born, he was the only boy, and it's just not fair. Oh sweet boy. Life isn't fair, is it?

Spence got his braces off! He's my final one and it feels like sweet relief to have finally finished the eight year slough of taking kids to ortho appointments, making sure they brush and floss correctly, getting frustrated when the pop off a bracket and forking out so much cash. It was worth it, though. Look how beautiful those pearly whites are.
Spencer has given up Fortnite for the most part. -huge exhale- He realized that is too much of a time suck and not helping him become a better person. Of course I had put some pretty heavy limits on it, but I knew that this was a realization that he needed to come to instead of me forcing him to give it up. That may seem controversial to some, but I often find it a more permanent change if the kid decides themselves instead of Wes or I making them do something. Sometimes the patience that is required for them to make the change can seem excruciatingly long.
Alice got a job at Abby's Pizza so if you go there anytime soon you may see her doing her thing. She also spoke this past weekend in our Stake Conference. And, she just started her final year of Track and Field. It's bittersweet. She has loved every moment of T&F- the friendships, the coaches, the meets, the camaraderie, the competition and the achievements. But, all good things come to an end, and so it goes. Hopefully this will be her best year ever and she will end on a high note.

(She made a paper chain from now until the last day of school)

She also just found out who her roommates will be at BYU next fall and now she is finally showing a bit of senioritis. Alice has enjoyed her high school experience like no one else I've ever known. The secret to her success is this- she is all in. Whatever she is involved in, she is all in. Yes, she's had some amazing highlights, but she's human just like everyone else. She gets sad, lonely, frustrated, tired, bored and every other negative emotion, but she still chooses to be all in. Typically, she'll decide to make the absolute best of every situation. She has a teacher who doesn't like her? She will go all in on trying to win them over. She has a friend who is bringing her down? She will go all in on keeping her emotional health protected. She is struggling with a subject? She will go all in on figuring out how to figure it out, and find the help she needs. It has been a privilege to watch her enjoy high school so mightily.
Oh my Emma. She's a newly minted Relief Society Pres. in her YSA branch and it's cracking me up. I love every minute of watching her march out of the house with a plate of cookies in one hand, and church bag in the other, wearing a darling sweater and pencil skirt as she rushes of to meetings. I never thought I'd see the day. Just thinking about it makes me smile. God works in mysterious ways. She's also my partner in chicken-keeping and we spend many hours discussing the behaviors of "the ladies". She is currently trying to get me to buy a couple more chicks to add to our brood, but I'm not up to raising chicks while I'm thick in the middle of our kitchen renovation.
Cate and Trevor are living it up in Provo, but their definition of living it up includes plenty of Netflix and baking. Cate just got a promotion at work, which we are beaming with pride about. She is a hard working woman and, of course, she would be recognized for it. She absolutely loves the working life. Cate was made for it. She is industrious, responsible and dependable so being a full-time accountant makes a lot of sense. I'm heading down to Utah to attend Women's Conference with her and I'm so excited. Two full days of inspirational classes, along with good food and drinks. Sign me up!
Wes is my rock. He is so in tune with my physical challenges. I can always count on him to be checking in with me and making sure I'm as comfortable as possible. He also has been the backbone of our kitchen reno. He does almost all of the demo (which is not as fun as television portrays) and he is a pretty good sport when I tell him what the plan is. I'm like "this wall needs to go" and he takes it out. No complaints. He has also been dealing with a cellphone that is on it's last leg. Yesterday it was so nonfunctional that he decided to do a factory reset. And, guess what? It made a huge difference. Eventually, he'll have to replace it and we have all made him take a blood oath that he will finally ditch android and go apple. We can't wait.
Me. I'm great. I stopped itching. I itched for an entire year, and then one day it just stopped. I have no idea why. I'm overjoyed and my doctors are baffled. Maybe some day my hair follicles will be like, "hmmm lets start growing hair again?" A girl can dream, can't she?
I've also stopped luxuriating in indecision. This has been life changing. I just decide. If I need a little time, I give myself one hour. Tops. I had been using indecision as a crutch. I thought it was a personality trait. Ha! I was just being lazy. I've also decided to let go of fear as much as possible. What the heck is fear good for? Really, think about it. Does fear help you progress in your life? Does fear help you make better decisions? Fear is about the future. Fear is a roadblock to a better life. In college I read the book "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyways" by Susan Jeffers, so this has been a life long practice for me. That book fundamentally changed my brain. But, fear is always there. If you think about it, fear, most often, is because we want to avoid negative emotions. Our brains are like "don't talk to him, don't flirt and, don't fall in love with that person because they might break your heart and you'd rather remain fearful, it's so much better that feeling the negative emotions of heartbreak, or what ever else fear might be protecting you from". It is our choice whether to obey that voice in our heads. I'm staunchly in the not listening to it camp.

That's it. That's what we are up to. How about you? What's new?

How to love teenagers more- stop fixing their problems

2019-03-22T12:20:00.004-07:00

Yes. Yes they should.

I love everything about my teenagers and all of the teenagers I get to spend time with. I feel so fortunate to have a church calling that offers me so much time with the teenagers in our ward. When I have a moment to myself, and I think about all of these teenagers, I always think, "I love them, I respect them and they are amazing".

I'm not going to go into the traditional diatribe on how hard it is to be a teenager these days. I think it has always been hard to be a teenager and I think it does absolutely no good to compare and contrast the challenges faced today with the challenges faced of yesteryear. Lets stop focusing so much on who had it worse and instead, focus on how fabulous they are and how we can help them.

The first thing we can do is to stop trying to fix all of their problems. Yes, we may know better. But, maybe we don't? Maybe they need to have the space to figure out some of their stuff without us shoving our best of intentions down their throats. We often want to fix their problems because we are trying to help them avoid making mistakes. Right? What if they are supposed to make mistakes? What if that is how they learn best? What would happen if they end up never making mistakes because you had made all of their choices for them? How will that work for them once they leave your home. It won't.

Why are us parents so unremitting when it comes to fixing their problems? Because we are scared. We are scared silly these days. We operate from fear when it comes to teens. We fear they will do something that will derail their entire lives so badly that we over compensate and we try to micromanage them in order to avoid the chance that they will make a poor choice. Guess what? They will make plenty of good choices and they will make plenty of poor choices. That's how this is works. That is what life is like.

Instead of trying to fix their problems, try just holding the space for them. Imagine that your teen is a tiger in a cage and they are thrashing about in that cage. You, as a parent, are not supposed to tell them to stop being a tiger or to stop thrashing about. Rather you are there to simply hold the cage for them. You provide stability and love. You are calm. You encourage them as they do their thrashing because that is what they are supposed to be doing. It is okay. Everything is just as it should be. Just hold the cage. One of the phrases I say the most is, "I totally know you will figure it out." And, I mean it. They will figure it out.

When we try to fix their problems, instead of just holding the space for them, our teens will not want to come to us with their challenges because they will feel unheard and marginalized. Most often they know exactly what they should do to fix their problems. They know what is right. They are just battling themselves (thrashing around in the cage) and need to feel unconditional love and encouragement. That is it.

Now, please don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying we should just let our teens completely fend for themselves and hope for the best. Yes, of course we should teach them correct principles. We should have appropriate rules and enforce them. Boundaries are of great importance to children and adults alike.

Your teens will come up against problems and feel a whole array of emotions on a regular basis. That's normal and necessary. But, next time they do, try not to fix it for them. It will take enormous restraint on your part and at times you will resort back to your impulse to fix. If you do, just apologize to them and do better the next time. Listen, love, encourage and simply hold the space. They can figure it out. They know how.

The past- stories we tell ourselves

2019-02-28T10:31:00.000-08:00

The past is only stories we tell ourselves. It may be sprinkled with bits of provable facts, but most of it is just a story we tell ourselves in order to make ourselves feel a certain way.

Let me give you an example: Ever since I've known Wes he has loved to share the story of how he didn't like rice as a child, and his mom had threatened him that he would be called to serve a mission in an area of the world that insisted on him eating rice every day. And, of course, that came true when he opened his mission papers 30 years ago and found out he would be serving his mission in Kobe, Japan. So, when he got to Japan, of course, he hated rice and was "forced" to eat it three times a day and it took three solid months before he came to like rice, blah, blah, blah...

I had heard this story at least 25 times over the years and just assumed it was true. And, Wes knew it was true because it was his story and he believed that his memory was accurate and this story was just simply the facts.

A few weeks ago Wes decided to read the letters that he had sent home to his parents while he was on his mission. He had a large stack of them in a manila envelope that his mom had dutifully collected and preserved for him. And, Wes had never taken the time to read through them until now. So, he starts reading them out loud to me one night in chronological order and low and behold, it had not taken three months for Wes to learn to like rice. It had only taken three WEEKS. Of course I pointed this out to him. He had been telling himself and everyone else in his life that it had been 3 months of pure rice eating torture he had endured, when in reality it had been only 3 weeks of it. Isn't that interesting? He was super surprised, and then a little baffled. How was it possible for his past story to be incorrect? Why had he thought the rice eating situation had been much longer than it actually was?

Why did he do this? I have no idea.

But, it does make me question the stories of my past and how I tell them to myself. Maybe they just aren't as important as I like to think they are? Maybe they aren't as factual as I think they are? Is it possible that I give them more weight than I should? Can I tell myself stories about my past that will better serve me? That will put me into a better frame of mind? Probably. I've been trying to do that more deliberately for a while and it is so much better in so many ways.

Last month I had a routine appointment with my oncologist. He brought up the fact that it has been almost two years since we'd met and what a blessing it has been in his life and in the lives of his staff to know me and to be on this journey with me. He reminisced a bit about what it was like the first time meeting me in my hospital room. How ill I had been. How scared I was. And, it was really sweet and tender. And, I cried a little bit. I then told him how I believe that one of the biggest blessings in my life was that my body developed the dozens of pulmonary embolisms in the spring of 2017 and that I had fainted in my bathroom on May 9, 2017. Because of this I would know that something was wrong with me and I would be able to start my cancer experience. I had needed those blood clots in order to have everything else come to light. He was a little taken back when I expressed my gratitude for experiencing such a physically painful challenge. But, then he got it. He understood.

This is how I frame my experience. This is the story that I tell myself. This story gives my current situation meaning and makes me feel grateful and peaceful. I could very easily tell myself a completely different story about this particular past experience and it would give me a totally different feeling and attitude.

I try to purposely tell myself stories about my past that move me forward in positive ways.

I think so many of us are really invested in the belief that we need to tell ourselves our past in the most factual way possible. That we need to be "real" about it. And, I get that. I have had a tendency toward that thinking most of my life. But, is it really factual, or is it just the story we like to tell ourselves? Does that matter? What if you have experienced something in your life that was difficult and you tell yourself a story about it and that story keeps you stuck or hurts you? Could you tell yourself a different version of that story? A version that serves you better?

Your past is just a story you tell yourself. You are the author of that story. You can tweak that story to propel you current self forward. You can also stop telling yourself that story if that story is not helping you. Think about it.

This is the best ever

2019-01-31T13:16:00.001-08:00

Last spring, when we moved ten miles from Sherwood to Newberg, we changed wards. I've written a bit about it here in the past, in case you're curious. Anyways, as soon as we started attending our new ward (Newberg 2nd woot!) we came home from church the first Sunday and Alice said, "This is the best ward ever!" And, that was it. We all immediately decided yes. That is true. The Newberg 2nd ward is the best ward ever.

Now, this may seem like a small and insignificant thing to decide on, and maybe that is true, but maybe it isn't? There is no factual basis for all of us in our family to believe that our ward is the best ward ever. None of us, or anyone around us, can prove in any meaningful way that our ward is so fabulous. If anyone of you were to attend our ward, on any given Sunday, you would all make different assumptions and have differing opinions on what it is like and how much you do or don't like it. Our ward is just a ward. It is full of all sorts of unique people with all variety of strengths and weaknesses. Our ward has strong members and weak members. Our ward has fussy members and amiable members. Our ward has ridiculous members and reasonable members. Just like your ward (or company, or neighborhood, or family, or city...)

Yet, we have decided it is the best. And, because of this belief, all of us are very easily able to come up with dozens of reasons why this ward is the best. So, recently I spent some time trying to figure out how we've made this belief true for us and I think I know. Once we all decided it was the best then our minds spent time looking for evidence to prove this. And prove it, we have. Likewise, we could totally flip this around if we wanted to and get a different result. We could all decide that our ward was the worst ward. Or too small. Or too big. Or to cliquey. Or to old, or whatever. And our brains would spend plenty of time trying to prove this to us. And, we'd believe it and then we would think our belief was not just a belief but a fact. But our beliefs are just beliefs, and we can change them any time we want to and then find evidence to prove them to ourselves.

Since our family has decided, and now truly believes, that our ward is the best, we love every single thing about our ward. We love the people. Each one. We love the leadership. We love the activities. We love the different organizations. We love being at church and/or helping/serving. Wes and I both have callings that are considered by most people "big". And, that may be true. We have lots of responsibility. And yet, it is awesome and we love it. We don't feel put upon or stretched thin. Since we have the best ward ever, we also have the best youth ever. And we love serving those youth. It's a privilege. The trickle down effect is huge.

I've mentioned to other people in our ward that this is the best ward ever and they don't all seem to agree. Some folks are like "but you are new, you don't understand." and other folks are like "I'm not sure best is the right word, maybe crazy is more accurate." This doesn't surprise me at all. I love to tell others in my ward how much I adore this ward and then listen to their reaction. Some people agree, and some don't. We all get to chose how we see things and what we believe and then we all look for evidence to back up our belief. Humans are great at this. I'm at master level in this skill.

My parents are in a ward in which a lot of people complain or suggest that it is simply too small. My dad has mentioned many times that a number of ward members have been embracing a "small ward complex", if you will. Many think that all of the problems and struggles can be traced back to the ward being too small. My mom has been trying to resist this idea. She doesn't want to get caught up in the complaining and fussing that can go on when you think your ward is too small. What would happen if everyone in that ward decided that their ward wasn't too small? Instead they decided to believe that their ward was just the right size. A perfect size for them.

Everything would change.

Have you ever experienced something like this? Have you decided something first and then found evidence to support it? Let me know. I'd love to hear.

Embracing difficulty

2019-01-18T13:34:00.000-08:00

My backscratchers. They are invaluable to me. Unprompted, my mom got me the green one, and then later, my sister the purple one. Having two of them is a huge luxury for me.

True story: I decided this morning that I wanted to do some writing. So, I thought it would be the least distracting if I drove over to the public library to write so I wouldn't be distracted by all the stuff at my house that often calls to me whenever I am home; i.e. the fridge, the television or the people living there. So, I hopped in the car to come here, and just as I pulled into the parking spot, my eyes began to water and burn. And, of course I tried to think of the reason they would water and burn. Had I used a new eye makeup product that my skin was reacting to? Did I have some sort of particle in my eye that was making them water? Was the air in my car filled with an irritant that could bother my eyes? Of course, after a bit of investigation I concluded that no, nothing had happened to my eyes that I had done, that was making them water and burn. Instead, I was just having watering and burning eyes because things like that just happen to me at seemingly random times and it is probably just a reaction from my treatment medications. So, I quickly drove back home to take some medication that might help counteract the problem so I could go on with my initial intentions, that of writing. Life, what a journey!

Stuff like what I just described above happens to me all the time. Maybe it happens to you too? I don't know.

The other day, when I was at the hospital getting treatment, somebody asked me how I was feeling. I think it was Chris, my research nurse. Anyways, I answered right away that I'm feeling great! That is exactly how I feel. I feel 100%, totally and fully, great. And, he looked at me and was like, really? You're not bothered by...and he listed like a half dozen different side effects that I've been managing and putting up with in the last 9 months or so.

Isn't it crazy that I didn't even think, when asked the question "How are you doing?" to circle back to the ever growing list of side effects I manage. Instead, I was like- great! I'm doing great!

I've mulled over in my mind how I have chosen to decide that I am doing great, and truly believe that and feel that way, even though I do, in reality, manage a whole slew of side effects that on paper, and in practicality, are irritating and hard to "manage".

Every morning and evening when we gather together for family prayers whomever is praying usually says something to the effect of "please bless mom that the medicine she is taking will work and that she will have a durable response and that the side effects will be manageable". Or something else like that.

I don't know if you would look at my situation and say that the side effects I'm dealing with are not a big deal, or are not too bad, or whatever. If I take the time to list them all out and describe them in full detail it would be kind of an overwhelming and depressing list. I guarantee.

Instead, I think I have been blessed to be able to absorb them into my life and not let them be a huge hurdle to overcome in my brain. I just decide to accept them and invite them to stay as long as they need to and then if they do leave I'm thankful that they have left, but I acknowledge that another one could come to take its place and that is okay, it is welcome. Does this make sense? I think I've just been able to make room for them all and they get to come along for the ride. Instead of thinking that I don't want them and I can't take them with me. Of course I can take them with me. They are supposed to be with me and I am able to figure them out and then absorb them into my life. Does that make sense?

Let me give you an example. For a while I had the side effect of mouth sores. Mouth sores are physically really painful if you are intent on eating or using your mouth in any fashion. I would have an infusion on Tuesday, and by Friday or Saturday my lips would start to swell up. Then, by the next day, I would have sores in my mouth, mostly on the sides of my tongue. After three or four days the sores would go away, and then I'd have a small respite before the next infusion and the cycle would start all over again. Now, this side effect didn't show up when I first started immunotherapy treatment. I had been on treatment for at least six months or so before I first experienced it. And, I will admit, when the mouth sores showed up for the first time, it was quite upsetting. I felt defeated and even cried some. Not from the pain I was experiencing at that exact moment, rather from the thought that this will be hard to have become part of my daily life. I was crying about the future pain and frustration I would possibly experience. What would I eat? How would I eat? How would I maintain my weight? How would I deal with the pain? My mind swirled with these thoughts. I never thought that I would stop treatment, I just thought, how can I manage this? This is a tough one to absorb. Slowly, I did. I got as much help as I could medically with prescription mouthwashes and such. I figured out what I could eat- gummy bears and yogurt. I drank a lot, because that didn't hurt. And, most importantly, I decided in my mind that this experience was okay and that it was part of my journey and I was supposed to experience it. Then in my brain I let it go. I didn't fight it. Weeks and weeks went by and this was just another side effect that I absorbed into my life. Interestingly, it decided to leave after about eight weeks. I have no idea why. I just stopped having mouth sores after treatment. Absolutely no rhyme or reason.

But, some of my other difficult side effects have not left, and that is okay too. And, I will have new issues arise in the future. Guaranteed. I am genuinely interested to see what those are and how I can embrace them and make room for them.

I can figure it out. It's meant to be.

I think what I've come to understand is that how I feel, has nothing to do with what I'm experiencing. In my brain I've decided that I feel good. So, I feel good. And, what I am experiencing physically is interesting. It's really quite curious.

I love this quote by Bryon Katie-

“There’s only one thing harder than accepting this, and that is not accepting it.”

I'm not saying that I believe in fate, or destiny. I don't, really. Instead, I believe that the experience I'm having right now is exactly the experience that God intends for me to have. It's kind of like that biblical term "kicking against the pricks". We can all chose to not do so, but so many times, instead we choose to kick, because we think that kicking will make a difference. I think maybe the difference we want can be found by not kicking, rather embracing.

How do you make sense of the experiences you are having? Have you ever tried embracing something very difficult? How has that been for you?

a bald woman

2019-01-08T13:39:00.001-08:00

It's been exactly 9 months since Wes shaved my head in our family room on a Sunday evening. It wasn't traumatic, like you might imagine. Earlier in the evening I had been scratching my scalp quite fiercely. My hair was falling out in gobs and I just knew that it was time to let it go.

About a week prior to the big shave, I had had the undeniable realization that indeed, my hair was falling out...completely. I had been blow drying my hair in my parent's guest bathroom and as I ran my fingers through it, the amount of hair being gathered together by my fingers was massive. I bundled it all into a ball (the size of a grapefruit) and took a picture to send to Wes. It was that moment in which I knew I would lose all of my hair. I did cry for a few minutes and my sweet dad comforted me (lucky him! He was the only one around).

You see, I had been told multiple times, by a variety of people that one of the great parts of immunotherapy as a cancer treatment is that you don't lose your hair, like you may with chemo. So, the thought that I might lose my hair had not been much on my mind. Of course, I was seeing plenty of fellow patients at the infusion center who were bald, so I was aware of it, but I knew they were all on chemo and I was not. So, when I came to the realization that I was indeed going to lose my hair it was a bit of a shock. Evidently, it is a very rare side effect of immunotherapy, and they consider it to be folliculitis (inflammation of the hair follicles). My research nurse, Chris, knows of only a couple of other patients who have experienced it in a huge pool of people he follows through out their treatment experience. So, I'm part of a very small percentage. And, it's okay. There are much worse things I could be struggling with, and as much as hair loss can be emotionally rattling, it does not cause me any discomfort. And, for that, I am enormously thankful.

So, how is it to have no hair? It feels vulnerable, to be completely candid. Showing my bare head in a large crowd setting is the most difficult hurdle for me. I'm completely okay being bald in my house, even when we have guests over. I'm fine being bald in my car. I'm fine being bald in any family or friend situation. When I go to church, I mostly wear a hat. When I run errands or am in a large public gathering (like when we went to the rodeo, or at Cate's commencement ceremony), I always wear a hat, mostly a beanie cap. Now, I am fully aware that just because I wear a hat doesn't mean that everyone around me can't easily tell that I'm bald. I don't believe I'm fooling anyone or that they don't notice, they do. It's more that I feel less vulnerable when my head is covered. Not sure why that is, but it is. My hat is a bit of a security blanket and there is one part of my brain that tells me I need to give it up and not rely so heavily on it. And then, there's the other part of my brain that tells me it is totally okay to have this security blanket and to just be thankful I have hats and to not question myself. I mostly listen to the latter part of my brain.

My family is completely used to my baldness. My kids often comment that they can't remember me with hair. Say what?! They've even told me that when I tell stories from my childhood they just imagine me as a tiny little 9 yr old that is bald, doing whatever I'm talking about. Bald Steph- the cheerleader, bald Steph- the softball pitcher, bald Steph- the gawky middle schooler. Its kind of funny, actually. Wes tells me I'm beautiful whether I'm bald or not. My hair seems to have zero weight in my beauty to him. His decision to love me just as I am is so amazing and strengthening. It is lovely to experience that sort of love. All of my family has been completely supportive of whatever I want to do as far as covering or not covering my scalp. I do have a wig, but I don't wear it. It just doesn't feel like me, ya know? It's a great wig- high quality and a looks like my hair, not a wig. But, I've never worn it. Alice often asks me why I would want a wig anyways? She sees no need, but still I have it, just in case.

Sometimes other women who have been bald, or are currently bald (but wear a wig) come up to me to ask me about my health and to tell me they are so impressed with the way I've embraced having a bald head. I love these women. Initially, they are complete strangers to me, but as we share our common experience of hair loss, we become supporters, and sisters, really. I don't walk around bald to make a statement or to elicit attention. In reality, the opposite is true. I wish I didn't elicit attention and that it was not a statement to be bald. Rather, it is just a life experience that I'm getting to have. I know it is somewhat unique to get to experience female baldness. I'm grateful for it. I've learned that being bald is chilly. My head gets cold quite easily. We really do lose most of our body heat from our heads. I've learned that eyelashes serve a very real purpose. Of course they are lovely to look at and try to make a statement with, but in reality they are on our bodies to keep things out of our eyes. I've learned what it is like to have strangers look at you with pity in their eyes because they associate my bald head with being a cancer patient. Instead of being upset that they "pity" me, I choose to think how wonderful it is that there are people in the world who care and feel for others. I've learned that life can be totally wonderful even when we lose something we thought was so important and essential to our physical attractiveness. I don't need hair to feel beautiful. I don't need hair to feel feminine. I can choose to think I am beautiful and think I am feminine instead. And, it works.

Of course, I do miss having hair. If I could snap my fingers right now and I'd have a full head of hair again I would do it. I've also considered the possibility that I may never grow hair again. Admittedly, it would be disappointing, but not crushing. Hair is a blessing, but I can live a full, happy life without it. Life often doesn't go the way we thought it would. And, we can be so upset when something happens, or doesn't happen, that we thought should happen, or not happen. Our expectations are difficult to manage at times. Yet, I've been trying on a thought that I heard from Jody Moore, on her podcast Better Than Happy. And the thought is this, "everything that is meant to happen does." This one thought can be hard to accept/believe, but it is an amazing thought once you stop resisting it. It's like this for me, "I was meant to lose my hair", or "I was meant to experience metastatic melanoma", or "I was meant to be the Young Women President", or "I was meant to be my kids' mom". I absolutely love this thought. I believe it is true for me, and I believe it is true for you. It can be a hard thought to embrace, but I do it, because I know it is true. Try it. Let me know how it is for you.

Life Update

2018-09-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure where to begin, so I'll just dive in and hope this post isn't too haphazard and rambling for everyone.

If you don't have the time or interest in reading a lengthy update I'll give you the super short version first:

We are doing great. Life is beautiful.

And now on to the longer version...

Health update:

I'm well. I had scans in August and the verdict was: No detectable signs of cancer! My treatment is doing a bang up job on my cancer and keeping it under control. People often ask me if I'm cured or in remission or something like that. Unfortunately, the truth is no. I'm not cured. I may never be cured. And, as far as remission goes, normally they don't use that term with melanoma. Most often they use the term "no evidence of disease", or NED. Like I have said before, melanoma is sneaky. It can hide in microscopic amounts for long periods of time and then pop back up and be super aggressive and rotten. The medications I am on right now are relatively new, so they don't have enough data (they need 10 years) to give much in the way of predictions. I am having an awesome response to my treatment (praise Jesus), but the doctors don't have answers for me. I live with lots of unknowns. That is my life.

My auto-immune type side effects are still in full swing. No hair, check. No fingernails, check. Soon to be no toenails, check. Dermatitis, check. Arthritis, check. And the latest, and not greatest one- mouth sores! Those babies come and go. I had them two weeks ago and it was rough. I lost like seven pounds or something because I couldn't bear to eat for five days. I tried a whole bunch of remedies such as mouthwashes, mouth sprays and eating cold soft foods. Eventually they disappeared and that was it. I told my team about it. They were baffled (what's new?) and I moved on. It's amazing how adaptable you become. No fingernails, fine. I do everything a little different and just deal. Arthritis, okay. I exercise each morning and try to work it out of my joints. Dermatitis, whateves. I scratch like a mad woman (back scratcher or ask others to scratch me because I don't have nails. And no, the irony of this is not lost on me.) and continue. Life gives me lemons and...

Also, I want to clarify something real quick because I think my bald head is throwing people off. I am not on chemotherapy. I do not have breast cancer. These two assumptions are easily made and I understand why. But, in reality I am on immunotherapy and I have melanoma.

Lastly, I am scheduled to be on nivoluminab until March 2020. I have an infusion every other week, usually on Tuesdays at Newberg hospital with all my BFFs.

My kids:

Spencer got his permit. It's wonderful and terrifying. He didn't read one bit of the drivers manual. Instead, he only took practice tests online. He is actually a pretty good driver and I am very grateful that he is our last kid to learn to drive. I've said this before, and I'm sure I'll say it again, but teaching your kids to drive is one of the worst parts of parenting. Worse that potty training, IMO.

Emma is still living at home, but only for a little while longer. She started her own business. She is studying marketing in college and to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if she were plotting to take over the world in her spare time. I love having her in our home and it will feel like a huge loss when she moves out again. But, we get it. Wes and I aren't a great boon to her social life and she's probably getting a little sick of us.

Cate and Trevor are doing great. Cate is working as an accountant full time and Trevor is in school full time. They are living in Orem, but plan to get out of there ASAP. Some people really love living in the motherland, but not those two. The only thing keeping them there is the affordability of higher education that Utah provides.

And, Alice. This past Monday she transferred from Sherwood High to Newberg High. It seems a little crazy, but it was the right thing for her. I had been encouraging her to finish up at Sherwood for a multitude of reasons, but in the end she just wasn't happy. Normally, Alice loves school in a way that is teetering on extreme. I'll never forget the time she came home from school after finishing her Spanish final and was in tears. Not because she had done poorly, rather because she was distraught at the knowledge that she wouldn't be with her friends in her Spanish class anymore. She loved that class and those people with such intensity that she was verklempt at parting. This girl loves school and she loves people and she is all in, one hundred percent. So, the first couple of weeks at school this year she had been coming home miserable. She knew in her mind that everything should be great. She had the right classes, plenty of great friends in each class, lots of fun school activities she was part of and of course, a huge group of friends that she adored, so why was she so unhappy? It was distressing to her and to us. In the end, it came down to the fact that she hated straddling two places. She lived in Newberg, but went to school in Sherwood. She felt like she just didn't belong. Her head was in one place, but her heart was somewhere else. Alice is, if nothing else, dedicated. She wants to be all in, always. All in with her academics. All in with her friends. All in at church. She doesn't do things halfway and she felt split. So, even though it seemed crazy and she knew it would be difficult to switch high schools her senior year, she felt it was the right thing. She wanted to be "all in" in Newberg. (BTW, she loves Newberg so much its weird. She should be the town promoter, because she is adores this city in an absurdly huge way.) Anyways, we jumped through all the hoops and made the switch and it's done. And, she's content. And back to loving school. It's been a little rocky though, don't misunderstand. She had a crazy first day this past Tuesday with plenty of funny stories she can tell, but I'll leave that up to her. Overall though, everyone at NHS has been unbelievably helpful and welcoming. She is astounded at the kindness that has been shown her.

Wes and I. Well, we are good. Busy, but good. We both just recently got new callings. Young Men's President and Young Women's President. The dynamic duo. I don't have time to write about that today because I need to shower. All I'll say it that we love it. It's the best.

Being Refined

2018-05-23T06:41:00.000-07:00

Just laying around waiting for my hair to come back.

Well, howdee! Boy have I been lazy/uninterested/full of procrastination when it comes to updating my medical situation. No news is good news they say, so I'm sure you haven't lost any sleep worrying about my health of late. But, the truth is is that a lot has been going on, but I don't have definitive results that encapsulate the entire picture, so I keep putting off this update thinking maybe I should wait until those scan results come in. Instead, I'm going to update you right before that most important phone call (should be today!), just so I can squeeze this in and pat myself on the back for getting it all laid out first and then leave you (and myself) with a monster of a cliff hanger. Yay me! And anyways, I get sick of cancer. It's so boring. Cancer is such an ugly word in our society. I can't tell you how many times people refer to other things or people as "cancer". Every other sob story you hear about is connected to some person having cancer or someone dying from it. Cancer is the ugliest of the ugliest in our world. I don't love dwelling on such a seemingly terrible topic. But, alas! I still have it and I've had things happen these past few months in relation to it so lets get down to business.

So in late January I was madly checking my entire body for unauthorized lumps and bumps that had no business being on my body, as one does when they have melanoma. And, I felt the tiniest little eraser-sized bump deep down on my upper thigh near my scar from my lymph node biopsy last May. And, I knew what that meant. I knew that my first treatment had lost efficacy and that I was in for a switch in treatment. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wasn't wildly disappointed. Of course, we had anticipated this to be the eventual outcome (my first treatment was predicted to only work around 9 months on average, and I was at the 8 month mark). But, still. I was hoping to be an ultra-super responder or something like that, and I wasn't. Of course I made Wes feel the spot, which was kind of difficult because it was not easily detectable. Soon after I called the doctor and told him my findings. We went to see him. He seemed unimpressed with the mini lump- it was very small, but still...within weeks I had another CT scan and of course it was exactly what we thought- a very slight uptick in cancer growth near my lymph nodes, and a possible spot in my lung, but the lung spot was not round and quite inconclusive. I have now concluded that my lungs love being labeled inconclusive during this journey. They were so badly beat up by my pulmonary embolisms that just have a tough time being read.

So, I gave myself one day to cry about my situation and then I put on my big girl panties and got to work. Switching treatment entails lots of tests and scans to reestablish a baseline picture. So, I hurriedly had another MRI, EKG, blood work and all that kind of stuff. Super fun. Then I had to wait two whole weeks before starting my new treatment to make sure their wasn't any overlap of medications. I did not enjoy that at all. Waiting is not enjoyable and I fussed and moaned about it quite a bit.

Finally, on March 6 I had my first immunotherapy infusion (a double infusion of nivolumab and ipilimumab). It took forever. Like five hours. You first go into the hospital and have blood work done, then you meet with your oncologist to go over everything (particularly possible side effects), then you find out your blood work results (gosts to be good!), then you settle in for vitals, a one hour infusion, vitals, vitals again, a 90 minute infusion, vitals and then you get to go home. The combination of these two immunotherapy drugs are one of the best treatments out there but they also, when combined, can be the most aggressive and harsh on the body. The biggest concern, besides its ability to go buck wild all over my freakin' melanoma, is the difficulties associated with those darn, dreaded side effects. Basically, these drugs point out the cancer to my immune system and then they push the gas pedals of my immune system into hyper speed. So, I can/could develop anything that ends in "itis". You guys, stop and think about that. There are a lot of "itises" out there. A lot. How about Hepatitis? Shall we try a dollop of colitis? How about a side of Pneumonitis? Oh the list of possibilities is quite long and rather frightning. I decided that I would just deal with whatever came my way and move forward. What else could I do? Die? No thanks.

Initially my first side effects issues were dermatitis and allergies. It was weird and annoying, but fine. Livable and I didn't have to sit on the toilet all day or anything like that. After the second infusion party (they were every three weeks) I started to notice my hair falling out in gobs. It was distressing to say the least. I had been told my many medical professionals that loosing your hair is not something that happens with immunotherapy. So, I was like, what the heck? I texted my team and told them what was happening. Finally it was so terrible that we just sat around our family room one Sunday evening and I had Wes shave my head with his beard trimmer. I didn't cry or anything. It felt right. My head had been horribly itchy (dermatitis) and once the hair was gone it felt like sweet relief. My kids thought I looked cool and honestly, it was fine. Hair is just hair. I'm going to write a whole post about going bald because it is such a weird society/female/emotionally charged thing I have a lot of thoughts on it. Anyways, I went to my third infusion appointment with a bald head and teased my doctor mercilessly for telling me I wouldn't loose my hair. He said I had developed a very rare case of folliculitis from the treatment. Only something like .05% of folks get it. Lucky me! Also, word on the street is that most likely my hair will grow back straight up white and super kinky. I have no words for this yet.

On May 8th I had my final double infusion (you only have four double infusions and then are put on "maintanance- nivolumab for a long time. Like two years). I felt so happy that I had weathered the storm so to speak. A lot, maybe most, of folks can't make it through all four doses. It just becomes too toxic and they have to pause treatment and go on steroids until the recoup before going on just nivolumab. But, not me. I powered through it like a bad a. And then, two days AFTER the final double infusion my body was like yeah. You done. Wave that white flag girl. We hit your max. I developed Hypophysitis- inflammation of my pituitary gland. It started when I woke up two days after treatment with a headache. The headache was persistent. And, since I'm on blood thinners, I can only take Tylenol, which is garbage. So, I dealt with the pain. Then I began waking up in the middle of the night with headache pain. By Saturday it was bad. By Sunday (Mother's Day) it was unbearable. It felt like an ice pick in the middle of my head (your pituitary gland in in the middle of your head, right behind your nasal cavities). I just sat around crying at this point. Finally, Wes called the on-call Oncologist and explained the seriousness of my pain. I was allowed to take some Aleve temporarily as long as it was short lived- the concern is internal bleeding). The Aleve helped a lot and I was on the phone with my doctor Monday morning telling him this was a side effect and needed to be addressed. I got in for an MRI lickity split- 6:30 am, Tuesday morning and by Tuesday mid morning my doctor confirmed our suspicions- my pituitary gland was double the sized it normally should be. Off to a round of Prednisone I went! Within two hours of taking my first dose of those blessed steroids my headache had vanished (after 5 long days!) and now I'm in the lengthy process of graduating myself down and off the steroids ever so slowly. I should be there, barring any other issues by the end of June and then back to treatment I go (maintanance of nivolumab) on a every two week schedule for the foreseeable future.

I freakin' made it! I pushed through the hardest part of this treatment like the boss that I am and now I'm off to the more "enjoyable" phase of my treatment. I realized I got super lucky with the timing of all of my side effect issues. Had the Hypophysitis happened earlier I would have been dropped from my clinical trial. Had it happened earlier I wouldn't have been able to have all four double doses and, let me tell you, I wanted to have all four of those doses like I wanted nothing else in the world. Tucking those doubles into my belt just feels better. I like knowing I got all I can get. Leave nothing on the table. Nothing.

My hair should start growing back soonish. I think I have developed a certain kind of vitiligo (Michael Jackson becoming white disease) that has affected my hair and nails. My nails (fingers and toes) are super weird right now. My nail beds are dark purple and now have a stripe of white at the part closest to my fingers/toes. Weird. I have pics but yuck. No one likes to look at toes. They are gross.

Through this whole process I have spent plenty of time reading and researching about melanoma. I'm one of those information junkies and I just like to learn about it all. No head in the sand for me. Through my reading I've noticed that a lot of people who are battling cancer become defined by it. It becomes who they are. What they are. How they see everything. It is the lens in which they view their world. I get it. It is omnipresent for us. It's hard not to have it be the first thing that comes to mind because so much of your every day routine revolves around it. I resist this. I don't want to be defined by my medical condition. Yes, I have cancer. But, you know what? Cancer doesn't have me. I doesn't need to set up permanent residency in my brain, or my body and dictate how I think, how I talk, or how I feel. Rather, I'm choosing to let it refine me. It can help smooth off my rough edges. It can help me love more. It can open my heart to others who are going through their own refiners fire. Cancer is my tool. Cancer is not me.

Latest test results are due today.

Moving wards

2018-05-01T15:51:00.000-07:00

(Us, prior to joining the Woodhaven Ward. I apologize for my hairstyle. We had recently left Utah and the only terrible thing about that move was leaving Geoff, my stylist.)

When Wes and I decided to pull up stakes and move into a new (old) home this past March, we knew there was a 98% chance that we would also be moving wards. (Wards= church congregation. Mormons have weekly worship services with their church congregation based on geographic location, not preference.) Anyways, we knew this would be one of the biggest adjustments for our family when deciding to move.

Well, we up and moved wards and are gradually settling into our new situation (I almost typed sitiation, because that's how I say that word in my brain). And, it's been fabulous. Everyone in our new ward seems so darn happy that we are there. We never have to approach anyone, instead they approach us. I feel like a glamorous superstar at times because the moment I think I can catch my breath and sit quietly, I'm interrupted again by some sweet ward member wanting to shake hands and introduce themselves to me. Additionally, they keep acting thrilled that we keep showing up week after week. I'm hearing the same phrase over and over again: "You came! We're so happy you came back!" At first I was like, "Sure. No problem. We'll be here every week." But now, I'm going to start saying things like, "You won't be able to shake us, no matter what happens!", or, "We'll be here every week, come hell or high water!"

Another interesting thing about our new ward is how diverse it is. Of course, it's not the most diverse group you can imagine (that award might go to my YSA ward in central London), rather it is much more diverse that our last ward. And, that is not a tall order in reality, because our last ward was super homogeneous, simply based on the teeny tiny geographic boundaries. This ward is full of folks from various ethnicities, age ranges, family dynamics and socioeconomic back rounds. I love it. It is amazingly refreshing. I feel like the instruction and dialogue that goes on in classes is just so much more unique and diversified. I feel like I'm not quite hitting the head on the nail with how I'm describing it, but nonetheless, I love it.

Also, this ward is such a massive blank slate for us. We don't know anyone from Adam. Someone could be in high up leadership calling, or a new member, and we have no clue. Not knowing peoples history's is nice in ways. I obviously take everyone at face value, which of course we should all be trying to do anyways, but when you know someone else's lengthy, and perhaps sordid history, it can be harder to interact with that person with fresh eyes. The Hall family is so freakin' fresh, it's kinda funny.

My kids seem to be adjusting well. The number of youth in the ward is much smaller that our last ward, as we expected it to be. So, this means our kiddos needed to jump in and participate fully. No trying to get out of serving, because if they don't serve, there's no one else to take their place. It's good for them. They are needed, not that they weren't in our last ward too, it's just in this situation, it's more obvious and they don't have any other option that to jump in with both feel and get busy.

We had several people tell us, before we moved in, that this ward we were going to join was amazingly friendly and close-knit. And, like any good Mormon woman, I was a bit skeptical. And, it is possible that this whole open-arms-we-love-your-family-so-much reception we've received so far is some crazy ruse enacted upon us to fool us into lulled submission and captive dedication, but I think that's a stretch. So many of our new ward members are 75+ it would really be tough for them to all pretend that they like us for that long without someone letting the cat out of the bag. Nah, instead I'm coming to the conclusion that it is genuine and heart felt.

I do miss our old ward. We were there for 18 years. I had basically become the ward's oral historian. I knew everything about everything. It was ridiculous. New people would move in and as we became friends I'd have to fill them in on all that had ever gone on in the last 18 years or so, basically since the wards inception. It was like a second job at times. I don't mean to say it was terrible or anything, it just reinforced to me, over an over again, that I had been there too long. I knew too much. I was old in that ward. I was seriously old you guys. Last December I looked around at the entire congregation one Sunday and realized there were only four other families (out of like 400 people) who had been there longer than us. It was that day that I realized we had to move. We were every body's security blanket and it was time for them to get rid of the things of their childhood (us) and to become the adults they were always destine to become. Just kidding! Kinda.

BTW, it's kinda a bummer to be meeting everyone in my new ward when I'm bald. But, whatever! If they adore me now, with my baby smooth noggin, think how much more they'll adore me when my hair starts growing back in. So much to look forward to!

Reasons to love Costco

2018-03-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

1. Over-sized parking spots. I think we often don't give enough credit to the wonder that this gift truly is. We are all so used to parking in lots that have the skimpyist sized parking spots, that we fail to recognize the sweet relief we feel when we cruise into a costco parking lot and the parking spots are not only deep, but are plenty wide. We can open our car doors with wreckless abandon. We can manuever around, between and in our cars without fear of scraping our car, or the shopping cart, or heaven forbid, the other cars parked next to us. I don't even drive a big honkin' SUV, and I deeply appreciate space in a parking lot, I can't imagine the joy a big 'ol Suburban driver must feel.

2. The $1.50 polish dog and pop. For a measly buck fifty you can have yourself a delicious polish dog, and a soda. It's the best lunch (or dinner) deal around. Add those diced onions, or if you're really sophisticated, a bit of sauerkraut, and you've got yourself a bonifide meal that satisfies. Now, is it healthy? Probably not. But, is it tasty? You betcha!

3. Costco gas stations. Holy huge! They just remodeled the one at our Costco and it is large enough to fill up 24 cars at one time. Twenty four freakin' cars at once. I love that. And, the gas is always the cheapest at Costco, so why go anywhere else? And, now that they take Visa, you don't have to get out of your car to type in your pin number. Costco gas- inexpensive and efficient. Two of my favorite things.

4. The cheese section. Need I say more? I was thinking the other day, would I rather peruse the shoe department at Nordys or the cheese section at Costco. No contest my friends. It's cheese for the win. I love cheese. It's my favorite food. I love it in all forms, from cheese whiz to fancy dancy cheese logs. I'll eat it all. The thought of being allergic to dairy breaks my heart. That would be the saddest of all. And, the Costco cheese section is just so mouth watering. So many delicious options! And, the prices, again, are the best. I always stock up on our normal family cheese- Tillamook Sharp Cheddar, and then I treat myself to some kind of special cheese- often Dublinar, but sometimes something else like a nice cranberry goats cheese or maybe a delicious smoked gouda. Then, I hide it from the family and eat it in seclusion. Life is grand when cheese is involved.

5. Less choice. Costco doesn't carry 25 types of peanut butter. No, they carry three types, Jif Crunchy, Jif Smooth, and some other healthy garbage type that's probably organic and needs stirring. Often you hear the media praising the concept of many choices. But, I don't have the same love for so many choices when I'm shopping. I find it easier and faster to shop when you don't have to make so many decisions. I don't have to peruse the 25 kinds of peanut butter at Costco, because they don't have them. I only have to decide if we want crunchy or smooth, or none at all. The shopping process is streamlined at Costco. Yes, of course this means that Costco many not carry some other more obscure items I need to purchase, but I go into the store understanding that that is not what Costco is about. Costco is about bulk, low prices, and qualtiy- not necessarity selection. And, I like it. I can shop at Costco in almost a zombie-like trance because I don't have to think too much.

We moved!

2018-03-08T13:56:00.000-08:00

and, we are buying a new (old) house.

Y'all, I am so sorry. Whenever my life jumps into hyper speed, my inclination to update all of you vanishes. It's not personal. It's me, not you. I just can't think during manic-like stretches and when there is so much to talk about that I turn mute. So, lets just lay out a time line of events to help you guys understand the craziness that has been the last three months of my life. BTW, did we have winter? I was too harried to notice. I seriously can't remember January or February.

December 2017- I finally come to my senses and agreed with Wes that we should sell our big, beautiful family home. It has been such a wonderful house. We bought it new, 14 years ago, and it's the home our kids will always think of when they think of their childhood home. Wes and I have done plenty of updating and character-adding to the house over the years, and honestly, we were pretty much done. The only thing left was to finish the master bathroom renovations. So, we grabbed a spare piece of granite (that we have had in our garage for 10+ years), cut it, sanded it, and installed it as our vanity counter top. Then I finished up the tile work, and boom, we were done. It looked so lovely, and it meant our house was ready to be gussied up and put on the market.

January- House goes up for sale and sells in 8 days. Yay! While all of the house selling hoopla transpires, Wes and I start looking for our next house.

Here is our checklist:

Old, at least 50 years old, preferably older.
Three bedrooms
Two bathrooms
Wood burning fireplace
Garage/shop
Hardwood floors
Character/charm
Safe neighborhood/quiet street
Minimum 1500 sq. ft.
Needs work, but not massive work (I'm not interested stuff like foundation work)
Decent yard

February- Back and forth negotiations with the buyers of our house (house selling and buying is messy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise). Papers signed. House sold. Sigh of relief that that part of the process is finished. The last week of February we actually moved out of our old home, put everything in storage (PODS for the win!) and moved in with my parents for a temporary stint.

March- Living large in L.O.! It has been a blast living with my folks. My parents house is large enough to accommodate us all. The kids are living in the third for loft bedroom- it has a queen and a twin bed. Wes and I are in the guest bedroom and we are all basically sharing one bathroom and no one has yelled or banged on the door once, yet. My parents are really chill, and funny. Emma forced my dad to watch the last three episodes of The Bachelor with her and he practically came unglued. He is not an Arie fan! We share meals together, watch tv together and have loads of conversation and laughs. Wes has been knocking out my parent's handyman list items like a champ. And, overall, we are all relaxing and resting before the next move.

And now, onto our next home. We are buying a 1940s Cape Cod in.....NEWBERG! I know. Newberg. I'm sorry. We looked endlessly (for like, three months) for something in Sherwood, but it was super slim pickings. I only saw three houses in Sherwood that were sorta close to what we were looking for and all three had huge drawbacks (septic tanks, foundation issues, one bathroom, etc...) So, when we saw this home in Newberg, I knew instantly it was "the one". It has just under 2000 sq. ft. Three beds, two baths. A full basement?!?! Hardwoods throughout. Wood burning fireplace. Amazing shop/garage. Large lot (9500+). We made an offer the day we saw it, and it was accepted a couple hours later. We just finished the inspection phase of the process (list was long folks!), had contractors coming out for bids and such, and the work should be done on the big items that the sellers are fixing before we close in a few weeks. We will be moving in at the end of March. This house does need work, like a total kitchen remodel. Bathrooms will need to be done too. But it has good bones and lots of charm. And, it has every single thing on our list, and, most importantly, it was in our price range. Can I get a woot, woot! Wes and I are so freaking excited! Plus, I'm getting chickens.

Here she is in all of her glory. I know she looks kinda small, but she's not. The attic has been finished and is the master bedroom and bathroom, and, she has the full basement too. This is her official before photo. Many, many after photos will come in time.

And yes, we are moving wards. And no, my kids aren't moving schools, for now.

Who's my enemy?

2017-12-08T12:36:00.000-08:00

(Second Grade- my mom made my outfit!)

If you spend any time on the internets these days you are probably aware of, or have seen, the LDS church's "Light the World" campaign that is going on during the month of December. I am privileged to hear each morning, from Alice, what the days challenge is and what she's going to do to accomplish it. And then I just sit back and let her do her thing, because I'm not doing anything but head nods and words of encouragement. I tried one day to do the challenge where you were suppose to give water to those that need water. I love that idea! But, I never left my house that day, and it rained like Noah was loading up the ark around these parts, so my yard didn't need water, and I don't like just water myself and then I forgot and then it was over. Is this kind of approach familiar to anyone else? My intentions are good- water! My follow through is terrible- squeeze in one more episode of Longmire before I fall asleep.

Today's challenge has something to do with enemies. Love your enemies, I think. And then, I started to think...who's my enemy? I can't think of one. Have I ever had an enemy? I pondered this a while, because when you think of your enemy you think of someone you may have punched. Or someone who stole your boyfriend. Or maybe someone who slashed your tires. You may be surprised to find out this little morsel of truth about me, but I'm not really into yelling, or screaming or any kind of confrontation. Especially as a kid, I just hated anything to do with fights, so, I avoided any situation that might involved raised voices or surly remarks, much less real fighting. Once, in high school, I went on a date with my boyfriend and some other couples and we went to a Winterhawks hockey game at the Memorial Coliseum. Halfway through the first period a fight broke out. Like a legit pull off the masks, punch in the face, blood all over the ice melee. And, I felt sick. I seriously became physically ill. I had no idea this kind of thing happened in hockey games and I was baffled that the refs just stood back and watched. Like it was entertainment or something? Guess the joke was on me, because it was "entertainment" and everyone else seemed jazzed by the fight, while I just closed my eyes and prayed another skirmish would not erupt during the rest of the game.

But then, I remembered back in the day that I once had an enemy. A secret enemy. No one else knew she was an enemy because she was my friend too. A frenemy! I had a frenemy and I didn't even know it. We didn't use cutesy clever words like frenemy in the eighties. We didn't even know such a thing was a thing. We just said terms like friends, or jerks, or idiots. It was a simpler time. Anyways, I guess I did have a frenemy, but I kept it quiet. I keep trying to think back and figure out why she was my enemy, but I can't come up with one solid reason. She never crossed me or anything. She was nothing but nice. Almost too nice. I think that's what led to my secretly viewing her as my enemy. She was too good. Too nice. Too pretty. I was jealous of her goodness, so I created the enemy status for her to take her down a couple of notches in my head. Wow, typing that out really brings home how selfish and me-centric I was as a kid. Instead of being inspired by her goodness, I was jealous of it and sought to make her not so perfect to me. But, I never did anything about it. I just had these thoughts in my mind, but outwardly I treated her well and we were friends. It was all very covert and illogical.

But these days, I just don't have any enemies, or even frenemies. I like everybody I'm around. We all get along. No one has egged my house, or given me a wedgie lately. It's like blah and boring in the enemy department. So, that got me thinking more philoisophically. Lets look at the bigger picture. Maybe its just Satan who is my enemy? I mean, yes. I have to say that we are not on the same team, and he is trying to take me down. But, I don't really fight with Satan. I just try to ignore him. I think if someone is your enemy you have to be actively engage in something with them. No? I don't know. But, I'm not going to serve my enemy today if that means serving Satan. Or maybe I do serve him every day and that's the real problem and so instead of serving my enemy, I need to not serve my enemy today and that will mean I'm really doing the challenge of serving my enemy? This is all getting too complicated. I need to simplify, I think. Okay, maybe if I just drop the word enemy, and instead use the words "person who is irritating me" then I can make this work. The next person who annoys me, I will serve them. And, by serve, that may just mean I will put up with them and remain calm, rather that replying to them with a quick, sassy comeback like I'm apt to do. Doable. Herein friends lies yet another example of how if you just lower the bar low enough, you can accomplish much. Go forth and serve your enemy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cancer update:

I had my every three month scans last week and everything is going great! I hate the term scanxiety (another more recent cutesy/clever word) but, it is real. I have a heavy dose of anxiety the few days leading up to my scans and then even more as I wait for the results. I think its a natural reaction. I mean, I'm basically going into a doctors appointment and waiting to hear whether my cancer is getting the best of me or not. I don't know how someone would deal with that scenario every three months and not get nervous/scared.

But, once again, Dr. Barber waltzed in to my exam room and said "everything looks great!" And, I immediately said "are you sure?" And, he was like "yes", and I exhaled.

I don't think about cancer each day as much as I used to. I mean, it's really hard to keep up that kind of intensity. The shock finally wears off and you move forward. Life always moves forward. I don't think of myself as a cancer sufferer really. I just think of myself as a normal person who is working really hard to push this huge boulder out of my way while living as a normal person. Like my job is boulder pushing along with writing, making dinner, shuttling kids all over town and cleaning the house. It's just part of my life, not my whole life.

I love life so much, I sometimes get sad at the thought of not having enough time on earth to enjoy all that it has to offer. But, as of right now, my body is doing a bang-up job for me. My cancer is running scared and lets hope these meds keep it at bay for as long as they possibly can. Because at some point, round one (my current treatment) of my fight is going to end, and round two (next treatment) will begin. And, although round two may be the treatment that delivers a more intense knock out punch, I really want round one to last as long as it can. That's what we keep praying for.

5 random things

2017-11-27T20:51:00.000-08:00

(Wes' favorite picture ever)

1. I'm getting rather worked up that I don't have enough time in my schedule to watch as much television as I need to. My shows are racking up, and I haven't even begun to make a dent in them. Do you ever feel stressed about your lack of tv time? Every time I run into a co-watcher of one of my current shows I have to cut them off at the pass as soon as we strike up a conversation because I am not up to date and I don't want them spoiling anything for me. And, then we have nothing to talk about.

2. I made a new friend in the waiting room at the hospital today. Dale. He's a farmer/trucker. I know his whole life pretty much. After checking in, I sat down in a nearly empty waiting room this morning (CT scan) and started in on my radioactive beverage when not two minutes later Dale sat down right next to me and before you know it he struck up a conversation with me. He's a divorced father of four (uber smart) kids, lives on a farm and grows corn. Two kids at Oregon State, one at Oregon Technical Institute and one sophomore in high school (the turd of the group). He has back problems (from being so tall?) and spent time as a trucker hauling cranberries from Canada to Woodburn, Or. He's a talker, but eventually he dragged my story out of me. We bonded over the difficulties of life, and in the end I bore my testimony of Jesus Christ to him. He told me I was a real fighter and that he'd pray for me. Oh, and if I ever wanted to ride in an 18 wheeler he'd be happy to help (he bought a used on for $12,500 a few years ago). People are great, aren't they?

3. We watched approximately 13.5 Hallmark Christmas movies over Thanksgiving break. We spent the holiday in Idaho Falls visiting Wes' mom and several siblings, and their families. Wes' mom cares about only two channels on her tv- Hallmark channel and whatever channel NCIS is on. I have to say, I particularly enjoyed 'The Christmas Train'. Dermot Mulroney is aging quite nicely.

4. I seem to get overly stressed each year, right about this time, because I start feeling the pressure of wanting to make sure I get the right gifts for the right people. And, the right amount, blah, blah, blah. And it's not in my nature to be spending so much money, so that feels weird. And, some people are hard to shop for and, some people are too easy to shop for. And, how to make sure things seem even and stuff. It gets conflicting and overly commercial sometimes. But then, I keep thinking back to my favorite memories of Christmas when I was a kid, and they rarely had anything to do with gifts. I can barely remember any of the gifts I received (Monchhichi, LJ Simones, Guess jeans), but what I do recall are the traditions we did. Going to Fantasy Forest to pick out the perfect tree (and watch my dad lay on the muddy ground to chop it down), decorating sugar cookies, watching 'It's a Wonderful Life', listening for Santa's sleigh bells and Rudolph's hooves on the rooftop, church Christmas parties and every other sight, sound and smell of the season. I need to stop getting so internally worked up about the presents aspect.

5. I love being in my mid forties. It's just the best age. I remember watching Oprah and she'd always talk about how being 40+ is so wonderful because you finally reach the point in life where you don't give a crap about what other people think of you. And, I guess that is true. I think I got to that point a while ago, maybe 35. At this age, I think I still look good enough, I feel great (minus cancer), my kids are so awesome as teens/young adults, life is so interesting and beautiful and Wes and I enjoy the simple things of life even more (good food, long walks, working on a house project together, etc...). I love it. I remember when my folks turned 40, and I thought they were so old. They were babies. Old is a state of mind, not a state of body.

Foundation of Testimony

2017-11-02T06:30:00.000-07:00

Hey all! A few weeks ago I was asked to speak at church. In our church meetings we do not have a paid clergy that addresses us weekly. Rather, we have regular old church members, like yours truly, give talks during our sacrament meeting (main meeting). In our ward (congregation) we all take turns with these speaking assignments and typically we are given the opportunity to speak once every 2-3 years. I knew my time to be asked was approaching, so I was not surprised at all to be given the assignment. I spoke for about 14 minutes in front of a crowd of probably 250-275 people? Not sure on the exact number. Anyways, a few friends have asked if I would share my talk, so I'm putting it on my blog for them, and for anyone else who is interested. Warning: It's long.

Building a Strong Foundation of Testimony

Have you ever had the experience of having the wind knocked out of you? I expect that by the time most people reach adulthood they have experienced the painful and scary feeling of not being able to catch their breath because an object has literally taken your breath away. Panic usually sets in as your diaphragm is temporarily paralyzed and you can’t re-inflate your lungs for 30 seconds or so. Those thirty seconds are a long thirty seconds in which all you can think of is one thing- air.

Sometimes life has a way of punching us in the gut, so to speak. The world around us stops spinning. Our hearts are shattered and the waves of pain and or grief pound us while we desperately cling to something, maybe anything, that will keep us afloat while we just try to steady ourselves and ride out the storm.

I believe it is our Heavenly Father’s great desire that we will choose to desperately cling to Him as we regain our footing. And seek to always remain as close to Him as possible even when life begins to settle back down.

In an October 2006 conference talk, President Monson addressed the topic of fortifying our foundations of faith and our testimonies of truth so has to help us to not falter, rather to rise up when the storms of life descend. He spoke of an experience he had while serving as the president of the Canada Mission wherein he was able to meet N. Eldon Tanner, who at the time was a prominent businessman who headed up the Trans-Canada Pipelines and was serving as the President of the Calgary Canada Stake. During their meeting, President Monson asked President Tanner why the roads and highways in western Canada typically remained intact during the harsh, brutal winters, showing little or no signs of cracking or breaking, when the road surfaces in many areas where winters are less severe developed cracks, breaks and potholes?

President Tanner replied that “The answer is in the depth of the base of the paving materials. In order for them to remain strong and unbroken, it is necessary to go very deep with the foundation layers. When the foundations are not deep enough, the surfaces cannot withstand the extremes of weather.”

President Monson pondered on this profound statement and deduced that “if we do not have a deep foundation of faith and a solid testimony of truth, we may have difficulty withstanding the harsh storms and icy winds of adversity which inevitably come to each of us.”

As many of you know, almost six months ago I was metaphorically punched in the gut by mortality. My birth certificate was stamped with a possible, or maybe probably, expiration date. And, although I am doing all I can to try to erase that stamp, just having the experience of receiving it rocked my world and the world of those I love. During the ups and downs of the last six months I have been known to say “I don’t remember signing up for this!” But, in reality, that is not true at all. I did sign up for this. We all signed up for the difficulties of mortality when we chose to follow our Father’s plan of Happiness in the premortal world. And by so doing we have an ever growing need to strengthen our personal foundations of faith and increase our testimonies every single day.

So, how is this done? How do we build a foundation of testimony that is strong enough to withstand the vicissitudes of life? Is there a special experience we can have, or maybe a holy pilgrimage we can go on that can guarantee us the strength we need to stand firm in our faith our whole lives long? Although special spiritual moments in life can surely add to the foundations we create, they are not sufficient enough to maintain our testimonies over time. Rather, it takes a daily effort of diligent discipleship to place each brick needed to build our testimony upon the rock of our Redeemer, Christ the Lord.

Helaman 5:12 teaches us:

“And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.”

President Monson suggests three ways in which we can fortify our personal foundations so as to strengthen our testimonies.

First, is prayer. Sincere prayer. Heavenly Father has blessed us with the opportunity to communicate with Him at any time. We are His children. His literal spirit sons and daughters and He wants to have a close relationship with us. He knows us. He knows everything about us. He wants to listen to our greatest hopes and dreams and to comfort us in our deepest pains and sorrows.

Heavenly Father loves us deeper and more profoundly that we can understand. He wants what is best for each one of us. If we pray with real sincerity and thought we will develop a more personal and meaningful bond with Him. Besides speaking to Him and sharing with Him, it is just as important for us to listen to Him. Listen for His answers to our questions. It is easy to become routine and perfunctory with prayer, but it is we who are missing out if we don’t pause and take the needed time to come before our Heavenly Father and truly share with Him, and then let Him share back with us. If we put effort and thought into our prayers, we will get to know our Heavenly Father in a more personal manner and we will begin to understand His great purpose for us in our lives. Developing a rich relationship with God, through earnest prayer, will undoubtedly strengthen our foundation of faith and increase our testimony of prayer.

On a personal note- when life beats a mighty storm upon you, often the only thing you can do is pray. What a gift prayer can be. One of the most challenging parts of dealing with the whirlwinds of life is how out of control you feel. Having no control over your life can feel like a wild roller coaster ride in which you cannot get off of. Yet prayer can bring you back to center, so to speak. It calms the troubled heart. It soothes the angry soul. It helps you know you are not alone. It is interesting to me that when people are confronted with what seems to be almost an insurmountable challenge they often first turn to prayer. Maybe it takes overwhelming odds for us to remember whose team we are really on and where our true strength comes from.

Second, is scripture study. You’ll often hear people say that the answers to our prayer can be given to us if we study our scriptures. And, I’m sure there are plenty of times when this really is the case for us. But, the scriptures can be so much more.

We are counseled by our Savior in Joshua 1:8 that it is important for us to “meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therin.”

Daily scripture study has the power to change us to our very core. There is no doubt that it can strengthen our foundations of faith and our testimonies of truth if we make it a daily ritual. We will learn the will of the Lord through diligence in scripture study. I testify that personal scripture study each and every day can have a soul-changing impact that is one of the richest blessings that our Heavenly Father can give us in mortality.

In my childhood home we didn’t have regular family scripture study. Of course we all had scriptures, and we read them and referenced them regularly, but we didn’t hold family scripture study as a regular part of our everyday activities. Once Wes and I were married, and started a family of our own we decided that we wanted to make daily family scripture study part of the fabric of our family unit. I’ve told this story before, so if you’ve heard it in the past, I apologize.

We started with the Book of Mormon. Our oldest two were a toddler and a baby at the time. We gathered together before the nightly bedtime routine started and we read 1^stNephi 1:1. We then closed the book, had family prayers and put the girls to bed. Yep, we read just one verse. We had chosen to start small in hopes that we wouldn’t get frustrated and we’d make the experience as peaceful and doable as possible. Over time we went from one verse to two. Then one column. Eventually some of our kids began to read and we changed to one verse per person, then two and so on and so forth. It took us five years to make our way through the Book of Mormon for the first time as a family. Now our kids are older, and we have read all of the other books in the standard works too, but mostly we stick with the Book of Mormon. When our kids have friends over in the evening, and it’s time to do family scripture study, we invite their friends to join in. They all do it and happily it seems, because, so far, no complaints! Family scripture study and prayer has provided some of the best moments together in our little family unit. It truly is one of the most beautiful ties that bind us all together.

Finally, our beloved prophet suggests we participate in service as the last piece that helps us to build a strong personal foundation of faith and testimony.

The greatest service we can give is that of service unto the Lord. Being on the Lords errand. King Benjamin set a great example of this when, in the Book of Mormon, we read his account of his desire to serve his people as to lead them in paths of righteousness. He declares to them:

“And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” –Mosiah 2:16-17

There are many reasons Heavenly Father desires for us to serve Him and in turn, serve our fellow man. Whether it be to build up the kingdom of God, to bless the lives of others, to be an answer to another person’s prayers or to simply help those who need our help, I think an often overlooked reason we are asked to serve others is so we can get outside of ourselves. With the trials and tribulations that we face during our lives, it is so easy to become focused on ourselves and our own particular challenges. If not kept in check, we can create a personal narrative that keeps our minds inwardly facing. How hard things are for me. How unfair it is for me. How no one understands me and my difficulties. The personal challenges we face can so easily turn us and our mindsets to solely focus on our own little world.

But, when we make the choice to serve another, we start to turn our focus from ourselves and we begin to look outward. We begin to see that there is so much more going on around us that just our own challenges. We begin to forget ourselves as we focus on helping others. Serving others puts our own problems into perspective. And, most importantly, serving others helps us to develop Christ-like love for those we serve. We begin to experience a glimpse of the kind of love that our Heavenly Father has for us as we serve His children in whatever capacity we are able to. And, as we continue to serve, our capacity to serve increases, along with our capacity to love.

Just like it says the primary song “The wise man and the foolish man”, the rains will come down, and the floods will come up and if we can be purposeful in building our house on the rock, we will be blessed to have that house stand still. I testify that our Lord and Savior is that Rock, and He reaches his hands out to both you and me. He invites us to come unto Him and to simply come as we are and take those steps we need to in order to fortify our own foundations in the truth and light of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Hey! That's mine.

2017-10-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

Belle- she hates sharing.

I'm a writer, so I'm going to write. And, I can't always write about cancer, because I get sick of thinking, talking and writing about it. So, I'm moving on to other topics of grand interest to me.

Let's talk sharing. I share a lot. I share my bed. My bathroom (big sacrifice). My car. My books. My dry shampoo. I often share my thoughts and insights. I love to share my opinion. I share my clothes. My phone. My baked goods.

But, sometimes there are little things, here and there, that I just don't want to share. I assume that every adult, and kid too, has their "items" that they want to be just theirs and theirs alone.

A funny thing about sharing is my dad's difficulties with it. He grew up an only child, and although I'm not saying all only children have difficulties with sharing, I do think his lack of siblings contributed to his "sharing challenges". The funny part is that every time he shares he always makes an announcement about it. For example, say he shares his last bite of cake with one of his grand children at Sunday dinner. He will always stop the conversation and say "See, I just shared my last piece of cake. I'm such a giver." The rest of us share our stuff too, but it typically goes unnoticed because we don't point it out. We've been sharing since we can remember. BTW- I love this about my dad. So him!

Moving on. Here are a handful of things I rather not share:

1. My drinks. This has been a long standing issue in our home. Everyone from Wes on down has some sort of magnetic draw to whatever I'm drinking. I swear I could be drinking poison and somebody would try to sneak a sip of it. It got so bad once that when Cate was a toddler she took a sip from a pop can that she could barely reach that was sitting on the kitchen counter, and unfortunately for her, it was filled with bacon grease that had cooled down to room temperature, but still. She thought it was my drink and went for it, but was shocked to find herself swigging a big gulp of liquid fat. I'm not sure why everyone else can't just get their own drink? I don't drink their drinks. Why do they drink mine?

2. Cheese. Ok, I admit it. I buy different levels of cheese for different people in our home. Kids get medium cheddar. They like it. It's cheaper. It's fine- for them. I get the premium cheese because cheese is my kryptonite. Sharp or very sharp Tillamook cheddar. Dubliner if I'm feeling fancy. Sometimes goat cheese. Every so often a bit of brie or smoked gouda. But, if I see one of my kids slicing or grating "my" cheese I lose it. My generous and kind heart tolerates sharing only with Wes. But that's it. Just a today Wes discovered the most decadant cheddar I had purchased at Costco last week due to a "treat yo self" moment. As I watched him slice himself a few pieces of it it stretched my not so generous heart close to its breaking point.

3. Bubble Bath. Y'all know I'm a bather. I take a bath every single day. The other day I tried to think of the time in my life when I started being a bather, and I traced back through the course of our marriage, college, high school and so on and I came up with day one. The day of my birth I'm fairly certain they gave me a bath and that was it. I was hooked. I'd be interested in finding out the percentages between shower people and bath people. I'm guessing its a 95/5 ratio. I know of some other bathers (ironically mostly men) but the numbers are small. Anyways, when I bathe, I want to use delightfully smelling bubble bath. So, this is one thing I will spend money on (and not buy from the big blue bins at Goodwill) because it matters to me. Simple pleasures are not to be neglected. Once in a while I find my bubble bath in the kids bathroom and I get a big case of the grumpies. You kids can use shampoo, or dish soap (J/K) for all I care, but stay away from my bathing products!

4. Candy. I'm not even going to opine about this one. Every sane mother on the planet has her own candy stash. It's how we survive. The biggest issue regarding a mom and her candy stash is the need to find new hiding places for it regularly. My kids are like well-trained drug sniffing dogs when it comes to finding where the goods are and partaking when I'm not around.

5. Headphones. My kids, namely the one with big hair and a sassy attitude, seem to believe it is totally okay to adopt my headphones without permission and then misplace them in random pockets, drawers and backpacks. It has gotten to the point where I purchased a pair of very distinctive headphones (they're green) and have given them a home wherein they are not allowed to be disturbed unless I give permission. If they go missing, and they have from time to time, I loose my cool and become a ranting and raving lunatic until the thief has located and returned them. The kids have learned to leave them alone, but have now begun "borrowing" Wes's and just last night as he was laying down at bedtime to watch a few of his favorite woodworking YouTubers he went to grab his headphones and "poof" they were gone. Of course I knew the culprit, but...I just don't want to get drawn into that battle so I didn't interject. I feel ya Wes.

How about you? Is there anything that you just can't bear to share?

So much, so little

2017-10-19T16:27:00.000-07:00

So much has happened during the past six weeks, yet I'm bereft of words. I keep trying to figure out what to write and nothing bubbles to the surface. Too much is boiling beneath, I guess. So, I am forcing myself to put pen to paper, so to speak, so I can push through this. Sorta like when a basketball player goes through a shooting slump, the only way out is to keep shooting.

Health. My health, besides having stage 4 metastatic melanoma, is great. Mostly. Mostly, it's great. I had another every six weeks check-up and round of blood work last week. My labs were swell, although my white blood count was on the lower end. Doc didn't seem overly concerned. My treatment seems to be doing a bang-up job at keeping the cancer at bay. Thank heavens. We discussed how my body seems to be doing a-okay, but my mind struggles at times. It's understandable seeing as I'm living with a ticking time bomb running through my veins. It's hard not to stress about every minor ache or pain, lump or bump, because...Mostly, I do fine though. I had some very unpleasant fevers and chills last week. The picture above is Wes literally holding my head while I'm shaking. Ugh! I just couldn't regulate my body temperature well and it caused me to have chills for about 30 minutes at a time and then a hearty fever of 103 or so for a couple of hours and then a blessed break until the cycle started all over again.

Around the house. Well, we started the fall off with some sad news. Wes' dad passed away on September 14th. It was fairly unexpected, but not a complete shock. He had been recovering from open heart surgery for a couple of weeks, and sadly, he died from complications stemming from the surgery. It is always such a shock to experience a loss. Wes has had quite the year with his wife getting cancer and then his dad dying. Life can really dole out the punches every so often, huh? Anyways, we traveled to Idaho for the services and it was a wonderful to honor the life of such a valiant man who set the best example as a husband and father for so many. It truly was a celebration of a life well lived.

Spencer and Alice both started school in September. We have two high schoolers now and it's fabulous. Spencer said the other day "Mom, Alice really was right. High school is the best time in your life." So, I gather he's enjoying it thus far. Alice is squeezing every last ounce of fun out of every possible aspect of her life. Homecoming with her friends was "the best!", school, cross country, soccer, Friday night football games, dates, sleeping in, homework and everything else that is quintessential "high school junior" is what she's up to.

Emma went back to school too- online. Plus she got fired and re-hired at work (by her dad). She informed us a couple of weeks ago that "no offense, but you two are kinda boring and I'm planning on heading back to Utah after Christmas for school." So, it looks like she will be heading to Provo in January. I'm happy and sad about it. Happy for her. She's ready to jump back into the fun college social scene and enjoy her independence again. Sad for us. Boy are we going to miss having her around. She has been enormously helpful and stabilizing for us.

How I entertain myself. A few months ago Emma and I joined the Sherwood Community Facebook group. This has, single-handely, been the most entertaining thing in my life. As I typed that sentence it sounded kind of sad and like I have no life, but seriously, the amount of drama and intrigue in this group is beautiful. I never post or interject myself on the page, rather I just observe (and make judgments!) all the goings on within our city and it's crazy political issues. Love, love, love it.

Well, there you go. I love you all. Life is harshly beautiful. Keep on keepin' on!

Progress, not perfection

2017-09-07T10:21:00.000-07:00

(My preschool years- Mid 1970's)

Let me start with the good, because there is so much good in my life right now. We just wrapped up a fantastic summer full of much needed sleep, time spent enjoying the gorgeous surroundings in which we live, and an abundance of family fun out on the lake. Our new hammock was well worn in by the kids and half of my planned "summertime" projects got finished here at home. Success!

Overall, I feel fantastic. I have very minor side effects from the treatment medications I am taking. Little things like sore joints and fatigue are really the only thing I have to contend with, and most of the time they just come and go, so it isn't a constant issue. I feel so fortunate in this regard because many people on these same meds have a very hard time tolerating them and sometimes their treatment is cut short because of the harshness of the side effects they experience. I have not had that challenge and am so thankful to be able to stay the course with "my pills" so I can hopefully reap the greatest benefit these drugs have to offer.

Last Thursday I spent half of the day at St. Vincents having multiple scans and tests in order to assess my current health. Then, on Friday, Wes and I met with Dr. Barber and Chris to go over my results. Dr. Barber walked into the room and said "Your scans look great!" and it was such a relief. Honestly, I expected my scans to show good progress because I feel so great and the one tumor in my left groin lymph node has shrunk to the point that I can't feel it any more.

After the initial good news, Dr. Barber started to explain that he and Dr. Curti had discussed possible surgery to remove the other mass that was behind the surface tumor I could feel. They both felt that surgery to remove it would not be a good idea for two reasons. First, it would be very invasive and probably compromise my quality of life too much. They would need to remove parts of other organs of mine in order to get the margins they would need and that would mean removal of my uterus, part of my bowel and maybe part of my bladder. Yikes! Additionally, they knew that there was no way they could ensure that ALL of the cancer cells had been removed. It just wasn't possible. So, surgery for now is not on the docket. But, good news! This mass that initially was 3 cm by 4 cm (in May) has now shrunk down to the size of the tip of a thumb and is no longer hard, but filled with a fluid like substance. So, basically it is imploding on itself and turning to mush. It reminds me of what a potato does if it is left to rot. Hopefully by my next scan it will be gone completely. As for the mass that I had biopsied in May (the swollen lymph node) there is really nothing to see there anymore. Just scar tissue. Also, the rest of my body is clear as far as tumors go. Brain looks good, liver is clear and my lungs are tumor free. The doc said we may never know for sure if I had cancer in my lungs during my initial diagnosis, but as for now, they are good to go. Thank you Mom and Dad for all of those prayers directed at my lungs!

So, all of this is great news and truly, we could not be more thrilled with the progress I am making. My body is responding to the medications in the best way we could have hoped for.

Okay, now that all of the wonderful stuff has been covered, I feel like I owe it to you all to share that I have not been doing so well with the mental part of this situation. Even when I listened to the doctor tell me the great news about my scans I felt defeated. I knew my feelings were illogical and that I "shouldn't" be feeling them, but it didn't matter. I still did. Feelings don't always care about rationality. Going in for these scans and hearing the results form the doctor opened up this emotional wound for me. I started crying again. I felt like I was taking a thousand steps back in my acceptance of my new reality. Once again I felt stirrings of a pity party in the making because, gosh darn it, I don't want this. I don't want to have cancer.

I felt this way for two full days. The funky town blues was enveloping me, when in reality, I had just received splendid news that was truly what we all had been hoping and praying for. It took until Sunday morning for me to get over myself and to stop feeling upset. I had been so terribly ungrateful while wallowing in my open scar sadness. Sunday morning, while getting ready for church, it hit me like a good stub to the toe that I need to accept what is. Accept what is. Sounds simple, and it is simple. And hard. God needs me to get over myself and accept what is. Even more, I need to love it. Accept what is means living in the present. Accept what is means rolling with the twist and turns of life. Accept what is means not having unrealistic expectations. Accept what is means to love my life, as it is right now.

You guys. I love you all so much. I can feel your care, concern, love and prayers for me. It is the best feeling in the world to have the most amazing support system doing everything possible to help me along the way. God is good and you are good, too!

P.S. While at the hospital Wes requested copies of all of my scans up to now. So, we came home with five or six CDs that had all of my CT scans, my MRI and my PET scans on them. And then, Wes proceeded to go over each scan with a fine tooth comb for the next two hours. I got bored within 20 minutes, but he was enraptured by looking at all of my internal organs, observing that yes, my brain fills my entire skull and yes, my eyeballs are quite wide set- he even did measurements on those babies. It was all amusing and bizarre.