Just When You Think Your Day Can't Get Any Worse

I thought today was going to be horrible.  I just didn't know  how horrible.  It was the team captain's luncheon for the heartwalk today.  I psyched myself up and went; sat by myself;  and answered questions about who I was. 

The nice long power point about heart disease killing people indiscriminately did wonders for my ability to actually eat the food I was served.  I overheard one of the business team leaders nonchalantly say she'd decided to get involved because a boy in her daughter's class died of heart disease this past year.  I listened to the director tell me that the boy who was supposed to speak (who I know) was in San Francisco at his cardiologist's office because he was having issues and the surgery that has been looming since he was born might need to be now.  I made it out of there with my dignity.

About an hour later,  I asked Mikey where he wanted to go next week while Lucy was gone to camp--San Francisco,  Monterey, Santa Cruz?   He turned to me and said he didn't want to go anywhere because when we do it doesn't turn out well.  What the Hell?  I had this fantasy  that at least Mikey was still fooled into thinking I was a good mom,  a fun mom,  something.  Nope.

No,  I'm not done yet.  I took dinner to a grieving man tonight.  I asked Keith to drive me because I was in such a bad mood.  When we got in the door, he started telling us he's been faking his beliefs for decades and now wonders if there's a God at all.  Whew.   Is that Heavenly Father's was of showing me that it could be worse?  I'm not exactly the poster child for resilient strength.  I just hope I didn't say anything wrong.   Tomorrow might be better  for me—I hope it is for him.

Time Travel

Ian's 6th Birthday--the Superhero Party

One of Ian's favorite topics of conversation was superheros.  I wish I had super powers.  I would choose time travel.  Guess why?

Storage

The teacher in Sunday School today read a scripture--one I'm very familiar with.  I heard something very new in it.  It shouldn't have been new, but it was.  The verse was Doctrine and Covenants 4: 4.   "For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in store that  he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul;"   It's the missionary section.  I've memorized in both English and Chinese.

The words:  "layeth up in store that he perisheth not"  rang a bell in my head.  I felt like all the spiritual experiences and blessings I've received in the  past 40+ years may have been laid up; or treasured up; (1Tim 6:19) or not wasted;  (Alma 26:5)  and have helped me to not perish over the past year--during my spiritual famine.
I feel that just like filling the pantry with extra food in case of unexpected bad times, we can literally fill our spirit with extra testimony to carry us through when we are unable to replenish what we need everyday.  This should have been obvious to me after as many times as I've read the story of the ten virgins, but it wasn't.  I guess I've never needed a reserve of strength as much before.  I hope I have enough.  I better get my head together and fill a few extra jars this summer--with testimony and strength.

Platitudes

"I never said it would be easy,  I only said it would be worth it."

Who said that?  Show me.  Who is it that dares put words in God's mouth?  Why do limited-thinking mortals feel the need to break down the meaning of the universe into 10-15 word platitudes?  This is just the first example that came to mind.  There are millions of little one-liners out there and great quotes by incredibly intelligent people.  I guess they motivate a lot of people.  I guess even the title of this blog is meant to have a broad reach in meaning but...

Today my answer is--Baloney.

Life is tough.  There isn't a little phrase that can fix things.  There isn't a support group or a pill that can make my problem go away.  The truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ offers a happy ending that I can wait 30+ years for, and even with that in mind, it's going to hurt the entire time.  I'm not of the opinion that burying our son was a challenge given to us to teach us things.  I think it will make me a different person, certainly, and I can choose whether it makes me stronger in a productive way or hardens me in a destructive way.

But there are no magic words (from anyone on this planet)  that I can attach myself to that will make any difference.

No Wishes

Lucy and I went to San Francisco today, even though she told me she didn't want to.  After all the crap she finally admitted she didn't think I could get us there and back.  Wow,  I hope someday my daughter will be proud of me and see me as more than the maid.  I think I've navigated as many big cities as some people ever even get to see--on my own.  Anyway,  I explained to her that fear doesn't keep me from doing things I want to do and I didn't want it to ever keep her back either.  (Besides, What fear?  I've driven her to SF a few times.  She just doesn't remember.) 

We went on BART--even more adventurous.  I had to ask questions and figure things out--SO.  That's what you do, right?  We shopped at Union Square for hours and found a sushi restaurant for lunch.  So now we can check those things off the list.  I had to drag her into the ritzy stores because she's embarrassed that we can't spend $700 on handbags.  Hopefully next time I'll even get her to try some fancy things on--baby steps.

We stopped at a street vendor who was selling personalized bracelets.  He even had a LUCY, but it was pink,  so  he made her a blue and black one on the spot.  I got one too.  I really wanted the one that said IAN,  but I didn't indulge.  When he tied them on ours wrists, he told us to make a  wish.  It's hard to know your wish can never come true.  I'll never have a different wish, and it will never be granted.  Ian can't come back to me.  As we walked away,  Lucy asked what my wish was.  I said, "I didn't make one."  She said, "Me neither."  I knew we'd both cry right there on the street if I asked her why.

I hope she has long enough left in her life to get a new wish.

Full Circle

Lucy noticed I wasn't wearing my wedding ring today--too many Pringles yesterday.  She gave me the look of disdain and I just laughed and said,  "Who's more married than me?"
"You're right,"  she answered,  "you're quite the Holly Housewife."

I think that is absolutely perfect.  From "Holly Hellrasier"  to "Holly Housewife".   I got a kick out of telling her that story--not Molly Mormon,  not Polly Pureheart,  but Holly Hellraiser.  To that she said,  "Mom,  I think you and I are more alike than either of us want to think."

I'm flattered and flabbergasted.

Why Choose?

Lucy and I watch "Tuck Everlasting" this afternoon.  It was okay--another 'somebody dies at the end' movie.  Shocker.  There was a quote in it that made me think.    "Don't be afraid of death...be afraid of the unlived life."  

What does that mean?   Am I not living my life if I get up and do my housewife chores everyday?  Is Keith not living because he fills his responsibilities first and has little time to play?   I think the term "unlived life" is a justification for many people to shirk their obligations.  I know people who just got up one day and decided they didn't want to be a parent or spouse any more and walked out the door.  I know people who just decided they didn't enjoy their career and walked--without any alternative plan in place. 

There's more to living than being fulfilled.  In fact, sometimes I think fulfillment is a luxury.  I mean, if I put out my easel and painted all day everyday, a part of me would be full, but 14 other parts would be empty.  If we used the little leftover money we have to visit some exotic location instead of yielding to the knowledge that we'll have to buy a new car soon,  would we be living our lives  more or better?   I don't think so.

The other thing that got me thinking in the movie was how Winnie had to choose between living now--with all that entails, e.g. changing, having children, growing old;  and being with the one she loved--forever. 

I'm glad I don't have to choose.  Temple marriage is a good thing.

Mornings

It's 9:38 am.  Keith and Mikey left for scout camp at 4:30 am.   Without Ian.   This was to be the year all 3 of them got to go together.   They had been talking about it for years.  I told Mikey I wouldn't be surprised if he felt Ian with him and to be sure and tell me about it when he got  home.   Lucy's still asleep--I know, 9:38 am.  It's giving me time to get a few things done and have quiet time to myself.   Besides, maybe she's doing what I do whenever I can--trying to dream about Ian.

I've heard several people say that mornings, when you first wake up, are the worst when you are grieving because for an instant, you wake and then have to re-remember how bad things are.  For me, mornings--especially now that school is out, are an opportunity.   I'm a dreamer.  I dream every night and usually remember them all.  Morning dreams are better though.  You can almost make yourself dream if you have long enough in bed.  I drift in and out 10 times on a good morning and can go back into the same dream if  I want to. 

I try to get time with my son in the mornings.   I'm not very successful.  This week,   I've dreamed about being a missionary several times.  I've dreamed about college.  I've dreamed about being kidnapped in exotic locations and many other things.  But I figure odds are in my favor.  The more dreams I have,  the more of them can have Ian in them.

Keith had a dream a week or so ago where Ian actually brought him a message.  While I was extremely jealous,  it scares me a little bit to think what message he would bring me from the other side.  My mom only remembers one dream about my brother in all these years and it was about him telling her if she didn't shape up, she couldn't be with him.  Wow,  my mom's pretty straight-arrow.  I can't think of much she could change. 

I also hope Mikey dreams of Ian.   I worry about him remembering.  I have so few memories of Stan.   I was younger, but not all that much.   I remember that today is the anniversary of his death--not technically.  It was the 18th of June, but it was the Monday after Father's Day.  I remember scenes from photos in the Christmas albums.  Is that actually a memory?    I hope we talk and look at photos and laugh enough for Mikey to lock in the memories of his older brother.  

Lucy brought up Ian this week.  That was good.  We got Keith a BBQ for Father's Day.  We were talking in the car and she said,    "Remember when Ian made chicken wings marinated in root beer and peanut butter?  They were so good!"  --and they were.  She does several things now that I think are in memory of  Ian.  She now loves the Beatles;  She wants to watch "Whose line is it anyway?";  She wants to name her son Garrett--that one is obvious.  There are a few others but I can't remember them.

So mornings are a luxury,  drifting in and out of sleep to catch a glimpse of my son.   I won't  pray for a dream again though.  I got an answer and what God gave me wasn't  happy.  This week maybe I'll just daydream  and fantasize that both my sons are together with their dad at scout camp.  Yeah,  I like that.

Adam's Transgression

I read  many scriptures today and really felt as though they were speaking to me and thought it would be easy to write about them.   When I sat down tonight,  I decided those messages were just for me.  I thumbed through and found a verse with a note by it that intrigued me.

Mosiah 3:16 " ...for behold, as in Adam, or by nature,  they fall,  even so the blood of Christ atoneth for their sins."

My note says, "4-4-08  This is speaking of the spiritual death.  See 1 Cor 15:22  It speaks of the physical death."

1 Cor 15:22 is the more common verse that says,  "For as in Adam all  die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive."

I've made quite a distinction between the two parts of the atonement since my mission.  I'm not sure I really understood how separate, but equally important they were before that.  Christ overcame physical and spiritual death for us--not in that order.  First, he suffered for sin and pain and anguish before he died.  Then he came back into his lifeless body and made it possible for us to be resurrected.  We, on the other hand,  will be resurrected first and reunited with our Father second--if we repented and the atonement may be applied to us.  First,  last,  last,  first.  Whatever.  I have to say,  what good would one be without the other?Would I want to live forever if I couldn't be forgiven?  What good would it be to be clean and worthy if it was all over--no progression,  no afterlife?

I wonder if those two scriptures, were supposed to read differently or if through translation the one was altered.  I wonder if I'm supposed to see them the way I do. 

Blind Faith

When primary got to be too much for me yesterday,   I snuck into relief society and sat in the back.  I was really surprised at the discussion that was going on.  I disagreed on so many levels, but since I came in in the middle,  I didn't want to comment.  Now I do.

The instructor was talking about obedience and saying we need to do it without questioning.  She used the term "blind faith" more than once.  I was really uncomfortable with it.  To me, it's one of those things like predestination--something that is at odds with the plan.

I think I question too much and too often.  I think I have serious trust issues,  even with God,   but I also think we are supposed to question.  After all,  aren't we supposed to become as little children if we want to enter the kingdom of heaven?  Who asks more questions than little children?  What adult asks why as often as a child?  How else can we possibly know the nature of God without asking questions?

Somebody told me something wise recently.  I think it was my brother.  He said the only real test of faith is to be pushed so far past what we know that we have no choice but to question--in that questioning we come closer to God.  I think that's true.  I think blind faith is close to ignorance.  We are supposed to do things for the right reasons and I'm all for obedience being a good reason,  but if we don't wonder and ask what the reason is, how do we learn what the right reason should be?

"I will go,  I will do, the things the Lord commands.
I know the Lord provides a way.
He wants me to obey."   

This primary song about Nephi even suggests to me that we need to ask.  How do we learn about the way that's provided without asking the why and the how questions?  Maybe it's just semantics.  We need to obey,  but to me,  the asking,  seeking and knocking are intertwined and without them, there is no knowledge or testimony to go along with the obedience.

Leave it to Hillary

What can I say?  One of the kindest, most thoughtful people I know also reads my blog.  She knows I hate Sundays.  I think I've said it now about 25 times.  You know what kind, thoughtful people do?  They think of things to do to make people feel better.   She made my Sunday so much better.  She made hot fudge sundaes with homemade hot fudge and invited us over.  What a great friend.  My other blog readers are great friends too.  They just live too far away to invite me over for ice cream.

Wouldn't it be great if I could stop there and just say my Sunday was better.  When I get to be more like my great friends,  I'll stop when I finish saying good things and not whine and complain and be a curmudgeon.  What the heck,  I can do it.  I already vented on Keith anyway.

There.  I did it.

It's Not Over For Me

I went to see the marble slab  for Ian's tombstone today.  While it's not the best day starter,  I thought it was beautiful and was relieved,  feeling it was the right choice.  (Too bad it was cracked and another has to be ordered.)

I've been fighting an urge lately.  I told a friend about it today and she said it wasn't creepy--said it made perfect sense to her, so who knows,  maybe I'll act on it,  to what extent I don't know.   At the hospital,  Keith made all the calls and informed everyone that Ian was gone.  When we got home,  Keith sent out an email to let others know and tell them--I don't know what.  It's a blur.  I didn't want to call anyone.  I didn't want to talk to anyone.  In fact, truth be told, I don't think I would have let anyone know until the next morning.  When I finally did tell anyone,  it was a couple sentence email saying Ian's finished fighting heart disease and I don't have anything else to say.  Wow, that doesn't really proclaim my eternal love for him, does it?

So here's the urge:  I want to know what everyone said.  I want to know if they gasped.  I want to know if they cried.  I want to know who they called and what they said.  I want to know how they felt when my world ended.  Creepy, right?  Someone told me they knew when the phone rang what had happened.  I want all those  connections now.   Did they make 10 calls or did they sit and stare?  I'm sure it's another thing I feel guilty for.    I couldn't even call my own parents.  Maybe I'm thinking about it  because it's over for most of those other people and I don't want it to be, because it isn't over for me.  It's not going to get over.   I want to talk to all the people I didn't get to talk to at the funeral and hear all the incredible things they have to say about my son. 

Part of me thinks it's the dumbest thing in the world and would just make everything even fresher and more painful-- I should just stop thinking and analyzing and replaying and bawling, but I can't.  Another pare of me knows no matter how much information I accumulate,  there will always be a hole that never fills up and there will never be an explanation good enough to make me not wonder and question and want more.  He's not here.  That's not going to change and even if I could stop time and go to that precise moment in the 5 o'clock hour of August 2nd and see what every single person on the planet was doing, it still wouldn't make any sense.   I still couldn't be convinced that he needed to leave me.

For the Birds

I took this photo.  It's not one of the stock shots that I took off the google image page.  I love seagulls.  I love all birds.  I've recently turned into a middle-aged person who watches birds.  I always notice the hawks on the way to school.  I love the cranes and the herons we see in the winter when it's cold and misty.

I just read a book about  pelicans.  The author told of all the wisdom that could be learned by watching pelicans.  Then he said what I've he heard so many Californians say:  "Seagulls are garbage eaters; scavengers;  common birds who are loud and pesty at the beach."  He also said nobody loves gulls except the Mormons.   I told Keith about it and read him a quote.  He just laughed and said,  "Well, Michelle,  you are a Mormon."  

I love seagulls.  I think they are beautiful.  I always said when I was a kid that if I could come back as an animal,  I would be a seagull.  I'd be able to fly and live by the ocean.  No real deep meaning today,  just one more thing about me.

Best Book Ever

Book club is at my house this month.  It had to be a  Potok book.  I decided to choose the one that got me started.  I think I've read it twice before.  I started on Sunday evening.  I'm done with it.  If every author in the world was as good as Chaim Potok,  I would be a much more prolific reader.

My Name is Asher Lev  is a perfect blend of family, religion, coming of age, and art.  It makes me want to get out my easel.  It makes me proud of my Jewish heritage.  I couldn't give a book a higher recommendation than this.  Read it.

Same Everywhere

I'm glad we took this photo at the cemetery. 

Keith wanted to get a lot of flowers because he wanted it to look like more than just us had been there.  We went to Home Depot and got pots of beautiful blooms.  We filled one of our big Easter baskets with marigolds--bright orange ones just for Ian.  My parents sent the ceramic bird's nest back with us from Utah so that they could show their love on Memorial Day.  The rock is from a hike on the hill behind Grandpa's house.  It's got rings that circle it almost like a tree.

We put everything on the grave on Saturday.   Went back Sunday and Monday.  It looked perfect.  The cemetery removes flowers after 10 days, so I went to get everything today so we could plant them in the yard and always keep the nest.  All gone.  Just the rock is left. 

I've been watching my parents deal with people stealing things off my brother's grave for over 35 years.  I guess it happens everywhere.  It still hurt.  A lot.  I have to say, people who steal from a grave are just evil.  I'd say ignorant, but that's just not it.  It's evil.  I won't ever forget the year we went to Stan's grave for Christmas to decorate the blue spruce my mom had been nursing along for a decade or so.  Somebody cut it down.  Good place to get a free Christmas tree, huh?  They didn't even take the whole thing--probably measured for the ceiling height.

Like I said,  I'm glad we took the photo.   Maybe what the tombstone should say is   "Please don't steal my Flowers!"

"Scriptures that I Own"

Someday I will publish a book with this title.  I scribbled it down in primary of all places a couple of weeks ago.  I've pondered on it a long time, but I finally mapped it out in outline form and decided what shape it should take.  I think I'm excited about the prospect of doing something that's new.  I don't have much confidence in accomplishing any task right now, but I prayed about it and am prepared to give it a try.  Since my blog has been so "despairing" lately, I don't really have to worry about too many people reading it and squashing my idea.

We are supposed to make the scriptures our own;   put them into our context;  liken them unto us;  so, I figure as long as I'm not completely out of the doctrinal ballpark, I can write about what selected verses mean just to me.  There will be different sections of verses: 
1.  Verses that I inherited from family; 
2.  Verses I borrowed or stole from other peoples' talks, but tweaked to relate to me; 
3.  Verses I worked for and earned all on my own; and
4.  Verses that were given to me in the form of counsel or advice by people I'm close to.   

I will include the quotations and the date I 'acquired' that verse and the story of why it's important and what it means to me.  Then I think I conclude with encouraging others to "own"  the scriptures they read.

It's scary to put this out there, even if only Keith will read it.  It makes me vulnerable and I have to say, over the past 10 months, that's all I've been.   I always seem to look at the scriptures differently than those around me and come away with a totally different point of view.  While that's interesting, It's a little scary too.   If I write short, rough  attempts here though, it will give me a place to start.

I have a few favorites.  Maybe I should start with one of them. 
1 Corinthians 10:13 is normally quoted like this,  "...God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able;".    I feel very strongly about this verse.  I think so many people in the world are lulled by it when it's quoted that way.   In it's more full context it reads like this, starting in verse 12,  "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.  There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able;   but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it."

I  have a dated notation written next to verse 12 which says,  "10-8-02  I think this may very well be the most pertinent of all verses of scripture!  The minute we feel unbeholden or independent of the Savior we better brace ourselves for a fall.  See Alma 13:28 and Alma 38:11."

What I mean by my note is that we can never think we're strong enough without help.   We never will be.  The devil is always going to be more experienced than we are.  There are lots of temptations he can put in front of us that we may not be able to bear without being prepared in advance.  Alma 38:11 says,  "See that ye are not lifted up unto pride; yea see that ye do not boast in your own wisdom, nor of your much strength."  If we look at the original, oft quoted scripture the way it's normally presented, we get a false sense of our own power--power that isn't really ours.  It's the power that comes from total reliance on the Spirit that makes temptations bearable.  That's an interesting word choice too.  Bearable isn't exactly a synonym for beatable or winnable is it?

I really like the footnoted scripture in Psalms 34:17, 19  that says "the righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.  We aren't just given trials we are able to overcome.  What would be the point of that?  We are given challenges that require us to seek for help from above.  The test is in whether we ask for it or not.

Finally, my answer whenever I hear this temptation verse quoted in a class or anywhere that lends to a discussion is Alma 13:28.  "But that ye would humble yourselves before the Lord, and call on his holy name, and watch and pray continually, that ye may not be tempted above that which ye can bear..."  This one goes on too, but for this particular answer, ending there is okay.  Doesn't that sound like it is  possible to be tempted above your threshold unless you are on your toes and being obedient?  It does to me.  It screams accountability, responsibility and the humility to not lean on your own strength when temptation (or anything else) comes.

So that's the first example of a scripture that I own.  I worked for that one.  Nobody handed it to me.  In fact, you can probably tell, it came from my unwillingness to accept  what was given to me.

Gentle Cycle

The first thing I thought of when I started to type was this:

Grief doesn't fade.  It's as real  today as it was 10 months ago today.

Mikey's 11

Mikey went to Mars for his birthday this year.  We all had to pool our funds to get him on the rocket, but we did it.  This is the only photo that made it back to earth, but at least we know he's okay.

NOT!

I haven't put any of the real photos of the big day into the computer yet so here's Mikey's B-day in a nut shell.

A yeti, and a skeleton--What more could you want?

Chess and Risk had a baby and named it Stratego.

Just in time for scout camp.

One last thing for his room and the saber glows in the dark.

Lunch.  May I say stolen gift cards cause problems when trying to pay.

Only Mikey's had chocolate drizzle.  Red velvet, yum.

There's never been a sweeter boy than Mikey.  When he was little, people would ask him what his name was.  I felt so bad when he answered,   "I'm just a kid."  I told him he was my little sweetie.  So from then on when anyone asked his name he answered,   "Mommy's little sweetie."   I don't think he said his name for a long time and I was fine with that.