Missionary Monday

Hello sweet JD,

I miss your kind smile. I miss your honest voice. I miss your quirky moves. I miss you. But that's not why I'm writing this letter. I'm writing to tell you how proud I am of you, and how much I love you. I love that you are on a mission. I love that you are working so hard to help others feel the light and love of Christ in their lives. I love that you have this opportunity, and I am so proud of you. I'm sorry that I've been MIA for a couple of weeks. To be honest, because of the 24th holiday last week I plum forgot that it was writing day. The husband and I spent a couple of nights in Spork, in your old room in fact. Your "true religion" body wash is still in the shower, and I had to giggle as I thought of you in Texas preaching about the true religion. I don't know why it seemed kind of funny and ironic at the time.

The weekend at home with the family was a lot of fun. We helped Bambi's family move, BBQd, laughed and played cards with the family, sang with Allerina in church, cried when the parents gave their talks in church, took naps, took Atrain for a ride in the beamer to watch fireworks, chided dad for buying Allerina a motorcycle, and shot guns. Yes, that's right, dad took me shooting. I expressed an interest when the Hawaina family was over and we were talking about concealed weapons permits. As you know, I've always been somewhat scared of guns. I don't really like them, and holding the power to kill in the palm of my hand just doesn't settle well with me. But, that also may be just because I don't know how to handle a gun. When you don't know a lot about something (or someone for that matter) it's easy to be afraid. So, dad suggested that we go out to Goshen to shoot. And, shoot we did. I wasn't a bad aim, either. It was an educational experience, and somewhat thrilling. I can see why people like to "go shooting." But I think it will take a lot more practice for me to be comfortable handling such a powerful weapon. That's probably a good thing.

A super funny thing happened when we were playing outside in the water with the kiddos on Saturday night. Allerina and I got into a water brawl. That is to say, she wrestled me into a kiddie pool of water--right after she squirted poor Atrain right up the nose with the hose--directly following my immediate warning not to listen to our little devil of a dad tempting her to do it--but not before I dunked her sorry face in the pool first--all the while dad leaned back into his comping chair chuckling at the scnene he had orchestrated. And, then there was poor Atrain, who misinterpreted our sissy screams and giggling grunts as a real live family feud. He stood in the adjacent pool with tears streaming down his face, squiring the hose at Allerina and Amber (who had joined in) with all his might. I probably did more damage to the kid trying to defend him than Allerina did squirting him in the face int he first place. As soon as I saw his dismay the ruckus came to a screeching halt and we all cracked into a thunder of laughs. After a few explanations and a salty cookie trick to get back at mean Allerina, Atrain was as good as new. If only Allerina were still the small, brave little girl who used to run away from home in her pooh suit. Then again, I guess not much has changed--expect that now she drives a motorcycle.

Well, I'm preparing for my lesson next Sunday. Thank you so much for your input. I'm really excited about the member missionary topic and focusing on coming up with a plan to answer questions about the gospel. Because of things said in my patriarchal blessing I was always under the impression that I would serve a mission. I know that I still will, but I want to be doing all that I can now to be a good missionary. I'm excited about the mormon profile suggestion you gave me. And, I contacted the sister missionaries serving in our stake so that I can meet with them and get their input. I think I will also hand out a book of mormon to all of the sisters and challenge them to give it to someone in their lives. But first, I am going to do that this week. I can't preach missionary work if I don't practice it. It is a hard thing for me because I have so much respect for the friends that I have that are not members. I don't want them to get the impression that I think they are sinners, or whatever. Some of the most incredible people I associate with are not members. And I have a great desire to share the thing in my life that is most special, most sacred--that saves me from my own sins and sorrows: the gospel of Jesus Christ. Pray to help me have the courage to invite others to the true gospel of Jesus Christ. I'll pray for you to do the same. Don't be shy to share your talents on the doorstep, brother. It may seem silly, but a guitar may help you open a few more doors and hearts that would otherwise be closed. :)

I sure love you and am proud of you. I'm excited about your 20th birthday. I hope you like the gift I'm sending your way.

Love always,

MJ

PS> Atrain called me to repentance yesterday. Not kidding. After church we were sitting in his room and he looked me strait in the eye and said, "You need to repent." I was a little astonished, and then tried to hold back my laughter as I queried, "Why do I need to repent?" He wore a serious expression and said in a somber tone, "Because of when you did this with winked eyes." He then proceeded to glare at me and shake his finger. I did my best to take the situation seriously. I assumed that he was referring to the moment when he was in the bathtub, refusing to get out, and all I'm left to do (without the ability to communicate with words) is exaggerated my expressions to show him he needs to obey his mother. I never knew he took me so seriously. "Ok, Atrain," I said, "I'm sorry. I will repent. I won't shake my finger at you if you promise to obey me the first time." And that was that. What a great missionary he will make some day.

Missionary Monday

My dear brother,

I hope that you are doing well. I’m sad that you haven’t received any of my emails in the past few weeks. There was not one last week (because of the 4^th I thought you would be checking your email the following day), but there were emails the weeks before. I was a little confused about why you hadn’t responded. I don’t expect large responses at all—I know your computer time is short, so you can make my emails short and sweet if you must. I’m going to send this twice today just to be sure you get it.

So, yes, the husband is home. It’s wonderful to have him here—a little more like life should be. But now the poor guy is on his pediatric rotation, which means he must spend every 4^th night in the hospital caring for sick children. He is ready to be done with medical school. And we are all certainly ready to have a little more time with him. There are so many choices and changes coming up in the next year for our family. We are working on the husband’s residency applications that we will send out to about 80 programs. It’s like fishing, with a lot of lines in the water. Then we just wait to see what bites, and once we get a few fish on the line we size them up and rank them from most to least desirable. Funny thing is, each fish (program) is doing the same thing with all its applicants. And, then a big computer decides which fish and which fisherman are most suited for each other. So, I guess it’s not anything like fishing after all.

We received some disappointing news the other day; the Radiation Oncology program in our state (most likely) won’t be offering any spots this year. So, by the time you get back, I’ll be somewhere else. But, home is wherever my little family can be together—maybe it will be in the great state of Texas. The husband enjoyed his time there on rotation, and when I was with him I liked it too. The people are very kind—hospitable and accommodating. There is something to that “southern hospitality.” The husband is still listening to country music stations. But I’m sure that any state is different from a missionary’s perspective. Did you get the letter where I confessed that I asked your mission president for permission to go to your ward in San Antonio?

Many things have been happening lately. Baby J knows how to crawl. It’s actually more of a hobble/hop crawl and every time I watch him make his way across the room it makes my day. He keeps one leg strait and scoots his lower body forward in one swift hobble. He’s just seven months and he’s already trying to pull up onto furniture. Yesterday at Sunday dinner my father in law said, “He is such an Ike baby….I see so much of his uncle JD in him.” And, he’s right. Jdog somehow ended up a lot like his momma. I would feel bad for him, but he does have a couple handsome uncles, so I don’t think he got too short sided. ;)

We have had a few very busy weeks in the Francypants family. My nephew Shmibbers was baptized and the husband’s brother Esteban got hitched. He had been engaged for a little while, but it was a rather quick decision to move their wedding up a few months. It was a beautiful ceremony—a white wedding in the Manti temple. Great grandpa performed the ordinance. As I sat there reflecting on the covenants we make with God—from baptism to sealing marriage vows—and all that is promised to us I felt so humbled. Sometimes I feel like such a small piece in God’s puzzle. But as I witnessed the progression of promises made in the last few weeks, I felt the Holy Ghost testify that God knows me, and knows how hard I am trying to live up to the covenants I’ve made with him. How often am I like Celopas, whose eyes were holden on the road to Emmaus—walking with God but not able to see Him? I know I feel His presence and His spirit. I need to trust and rely upon the truth that fills and burns in my heart.

Atrain is doing alright. I feel like he’s going through a bit of a rough time right now. A lot has been happening in his busy little life, and I think he’s also trying hard to interpret and keep up with it all. It’s got to be hard for a little guy when his brother begins to encroach upon his time and territory. I’m sure that the craziness of the past month has also taken a toll on him. We’ve been talking about feeling the Holy Ghost and how it’s hard to feel His happy feelings when we make bad choices. Yesterday out of the blue he said to me, “I will make good choices mom, so I can feel the Holy Ghost.” I told him I would do the same. Last night I sat with him reading the “You are Special” book Grandma gave us a few Christmases ago. We read it again and again, and talked about the message. I hope he knows how special he is to me. There is nothing more important than my Atrain and Jdog. I want to try harder this week to help my boys feel that. Especially when life gets busy I want my boys to know that they are the most important pieces of my day.

I sure love you, brother. I get to teach Relief Society on the first Sunday of next month and I think I need to teach about missionary work—having a game plan about what to do when you’re asked, “What is the difference between you’re church and mine,” like I was that day in Texas. (Did you get that letter?) Any pointers? I’m sure you have a lot. Keep up the good work, brother. I love you.

Love,

MJ

Missionary Monday

Hello Brother,

I hope that you are doing well. I sure love you, and I'm so proud of you. It's been a busy couple of weeks in my little family. I've been doing a lot and learning a lot. And, yes, I talked to your mission president. It was more by accident than anything. We wanted to see where you had been transferred to and get your package address. I thought that I was calling the mission home, but nope. When the phone was picked up on the other end the voice said, "Hello, this is President Jones." I was a little stunned, and apologized for calling his personal number by accident, but went on with my original question anyhow. He was very nice. It was fun to listen to his voice and wonder how he sounds as a mission president.

I actually also emailed him, but for a totally different reason. When I was just a few hours away from you in Texas I wanted to come see your sweet face. We thought that it would possibly be a good idea to go to church in the ward you are serving in. But I guess it wasn't such a great idea, after all. President Jones relayed the official mission rule (in a very strait forward, matter of fact way...seems like a good, by-the-book kind of guy), and after hearing that missionaries are not allowed to have visitors from home, it really made sense in my mind and heart. I'm sure it would be quite distracting to have a visit from your sister and her family. And, I wouldn't want to do anything that would make your mission any harder, or make you long for home any more. It was hard, though, showing up to church on my last Sunday in Texas and seeing the missionaries in the ward there, knowing that I could have been seeing you. But it was for the better, I'm sure.

So...life. It's been kind of interesting lately. I have had a few experiences that have challenged and helped me build my testimony. In my Patriarchal blessing I'm told that my testimony will be challenged as I go through life and that I will face obstacles--but it also says that I will make the correct choices and that I will be courageous in my pursuit of excellence. It was sweet to reread that after this experience. I have a friend from high school who has fallen away from the church. So sad. It has made me do a lot of thinking about my own testimony and which areas need to be stronger. Then, while in Texas I had an interesting conversation with a mechanic (our car broke down while we were there) who asked me point blank, "What is the difference between your church and my church." Elder, I stumbled in my response. I mean, I did my best to tell him about the Book of Mormon and the restoration of the gospel through Joseph Smith, but I was so unpracticed and rather unprepared. When it came to telling someone who has no knowledge about the church and its beginnings, I felt so unsure of my words. Right then and there, I wished that I had served a mission. I would have known exactly what to say. But I didn't.

After thinking a lot about that moment, I came to the conclusion that I need to work of a few things. I need to have a game plan for when that question comes at me again. I don't want to fumble that opportunity (though dad believes positive things probably came from that interaction). I need to gain a stronger testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and practice sharing it with others. Not that I don't have a testimony of the Prophet, I do--I know he was called by God to restore the fullness of Christ's gospel in these latter days--but I need more confidence and practice sharing it. I read a conference talk that was given by a convert from Brazil who read the history of the Joseph Smith that is included in the scriptures and prayed about its truthfulness. Thus far, that has been a great experience for me. For members of the church like me--the "average Jane"--who haven't served a formal mission for the church yet, and was baptized when they turned eight years old, I think it's good that I had a moment like this. It helped me realize what I need to do to be a better "member missionary." And, I'm excited to work on it.

This weekend was Gavin Aina's baptism. It was a very sweet moment for me to watch this young boy make those big promises, especially considering the thoughts that have been flying through my mind lately. I cried as I watched him be immersed in the water. I felt the spirit so strongly, telling me that the promises I made with God are real. They are still intact. And, that I always need to work to keep my testimony growing. Sure, I was baptized at eight years old and perhaps I didn't understand the incredible promises that were made at that point in my life, but I think that knowing, understanding and sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ will be a lifetime pursuit. I know that this is God's church and that Christ is at the head of it, instructing our latter-day prophet to help me navigate this life, and make something more of me than I could ever make of myself.

Well, brother, I must go. The babes are waking. They sure love you. I'll leave you with a funny story from my blog about the weekend that I know you will enjoy.

Love,
MJ

A Texas Weekend

Dear Elder I,

Well, it is hot! And humid. As soon as I stepped off of the plane in Houston I felt like someone had forgotten to turn off Texas’ shower. Thick, steamy air wrapped ran its fingers through my hair, making a mess of the curls I had arranged early that morning to impress the husband when I saw him for the first time in two weeks. Not that he really cares. He would have beamed with the same sweet crooked smile whether or not my appearance drooped with humidity and exhaustion. It was so good to see him.

It is strange to be in this state, knowing that you are just a three hour drive away. As we drove through the city I half expected to see you riding your bike along the busy roads. But I’m glad that I didn’t. I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but the cars here don’t leave any room for a couple of missionaries to pedal from appointment to appointment. And, what’s with the mandatory left turn signal? And, why isn’t there a right hand turn lane? I do kind of like how Texans hang their traffic lights horizontally. And, I love how helpful everyone is here. If I ask for directions in the grocery store or within a park, people insist on walking me to my destination. There is a southern charm about this state. I’ve never been called “mam” so much in my life, and I adore driving through different residential neighborhoods to admire old southern homes with wrap around porches and columns. The vegetation kind of confuses me. It seems swamp-like and wild in some places—overgrown trees with sweeping branches mixed in with coniferous-looking varieties that look (to me) like they belong in the mountains. But in other places, the plants are perfectly trimmed and coifed, arching elegantly across the roads, inviting me to come explore. When the husband was worried about what I would do with myself while he worked the week days away I told him not to worry because exploring is one of my strengths. I do enjoy having my sense of structure thrown off. It’s surprisingly refreshing.

We have had so much fun exploring Texas together this weekend. On Friday after the husband came home from work we all went to an Astros baseball game with Glenn, our good friend from high school. Glenn took his boy, PJ, who is exactly Atrain’s age. It was a three year old’s paradise. PJ and Atrain immediately bonded as they ran amuck, stomping on and slapping every baseball-like image in sight. Then they made their way through the stadium seats, dancing to the stadium organ music and chasing each other up and down the stairs. It was a bit challenging to corral them in when we got a few dirty looks from more serious baseball fans. Luckily there weren’t many—dirty looks, that is. Most enjoyed their unabashed excitement for the baseball scene. The night ended with the top of the Astros dome rolling back for our Friday night firework viewing pleasure. The boys loved it. Jdog sat calmly in my arms, watching the bursts of colored light with wide eyes. Atrain sunk into his father’s arms, soaking in the dancing explosions. It was one of those family moments I tried hard to carve into my memory.

Saturday we were off to Galviston to visit Stewart beach. It was our first exposure to the gulf coast. I loved Galviston. I wish that I had a whole weekend to wander around its roads and snoop into the historic homes that dot the streets. It’s amazing many of them are still standing after Hurricane Ike just a few years back. We made our way to the crowded shoreline, and despite the throngs of people and the miniature sandstorm coating our sunscreen in a layer of grit—it was an awesome afternoon. As soon as we got Atrain’s cochlears waterproofed (swim cap + aloksak bag), the husband carried him into the waves to “surf.” Jdog and I sat happily on the shore, playing in the mud. Jdog’s first instinct was to grab a first full and shove it into his mouth—an act he clearly regretted, as he didn’t try it a second time. But, he did enjoy feeling the warm, salty water tickle his toes. Our little family just sat there on the shore for about an hour, enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, listening to each other giggle as we played in the mud, watching the little clams dig their way into the sand. I’m trying to let that feeling dig its way into my memory forever. Then, we ate out at Chili’s—much to the husband’s dismay. Saturday is supposed to be “local cuisine” day, but I had a sneaky feeling Atrain wouldn’t enjoy a tray full of crawdads. Or maybe that’s me. Either way, I think we had enough adventure for the day.

On Sunday we went to church wish Glenn’s family. Sometimes church is hard with a 6 month old (can you believe Jdog is already 6 months). He’s not in nursery, is usually tired, is always hungry, and inevitably needs to change his entire outfit (because of a poopy diaper) at least once before we return home. I spend most of the three hour block in the mothers’ room, or wandering the halls. But, it’s worth it. Even if all that I get to do during church is take the Sacrament and dote, without distractions, on my baby--it’s definitely worth it. And, that’s exactly what I did during church yesterday. Somehow Jdog learned the funniest little snort trick; he crinkles his notes and breathes quickly in and out of it, producing small happy snorts whenever he’s excited about something. It couldn’t be any cuter.

Speaking of cute, Atrain has somehow been misinformed that our apartment is Texas. It’s so funny to hear him say, “let’s go back to Texas now,” whenever we are out and about. I’ve tried explaining to him the idea of states, but he’s determined to believe that Texas is where his Dada lives right now—which is the little one bedroom apartment we are renting for the couple of weeks. But don’t worry, I’m sure that as soon as the husband comes home, Texas will return to being where Uncle JD lives right now.

Well, my dear, I must go. The boys will be waking up soon and I can’t wait to greet them. I am blessed to have three sweet boys to nurture and care for in life. I sure love them. I want to be a better mother and wife for them. I know God can help me do that if I work harder to do the small, simple things that mean the most each day. I always need to be working on strengthening my testimony. We have a good friend we have known for a while who stopped going to church because he doesn’t think he has a testimony any more. Harold B. Lee said, "Testimony isn't something you have today, and you are going to have always. A testimony is fragile. It is as hard to hold as a moonbeam. It is something you have to recapture every day of your life.” I want to work harder this week to do that. I sure love you. I’m so proud of you. I’ll keep an eye out for you while I’m exploring this great state, though I know it’s doubtful that I’ll see you. Keep up the hard work.

Love,

MJ

PS- Have you tried Blue Bell Ice cream? Heaven. It’s definitely our biggest discovery in the Lonestar State. You must try it. Pralines and Cream is a dream.

Missinaries Tuesday

Dear Elder I,

It’s late, and a lot of things are running through my mind tonight. This past week I felt stuck in a torrent of bad luck: I lost my key card, lost my keys, temporarily misplaced my husband, locked my keys in my car, and then ended it all with a bang in the ER with Atrain. Normally, I consider Sunday the first day of the week, but on this special occasion I’m officially kicking Sunday to the back of the line. No offense, I loved talking to you for a few seconds, but any day that ends with Atrain in the hospital is the worst day of the week.

We went to ER for another extreme case of vertigo. I can’t even imagine how it must be to feel like you hopped aboard an endless Gravitron ride. My poor boy. I wish there was more that I could do. He’s doing so much better now. In fact, we spent the day like many others: masquerading as Peter Pan, Wendy, and Michael; and then switched over to and Dar[k] Vader, Princess Leia and Yoda. Then we went to have sandwiches at Subway for dinner—a special treat, indeed. Atrain loves ham, olive, mayo and lettuce sandwiches.

We parked in front of Subway along a strip mall that is connected to our favorite grocery store. It’s our favorite because it reminds me of the grocery store back home: happy people, yummy samples and nice baggers who are always willing to push my cart out to the car when my hands are full of kiddos. I definitely took advantage of that service tonight. Atrain insisted on “checking out” all of the stores down the strip, so how could I refuse? I loved holding Jdog in my arms, pushing the stroller and watching Atrain walk so nimbly around the various store obstacles. He was perfectly balanced with such a determined stride. I like letting him lead the way. It’s often impractical, but he soaks those moments in—he asks questions, the makes observations, he discovers.

Before long, I discovered that we had walked all the way to the grocery store. Then, of course I had to get bread, milk, bananas, cheese, cereal, etc. I even picked up a bright blue dollar sword to surprise Atrain. I love surprising him. Before I knew it the basket of Jdog’s stroller was overflowing. But, the grocery store clerk insisted that one of their nice young baggers accompany me all the way to my car (about a block away). That bagger’s picture should be immortalized in a museum of amazing employees. What a nice young man. Service is the best way to sneak your way into someone’s heart.

We have been served a lot lately. I guess I’m just in a time of life where I need a lot of help, especially this last weekend. Jdog is still nursing, so I needed him at the hospital with me, and I needed to be with Atrain. Everyone in our family and the husband’s family volunteered to go. Mom won the “coveted” spot, and she endured a pretty sleepless night with me and the boys. The husband’s mom is planning on spending the night with us on Wednesday to help me while I’m working. I have been so blessed. I yearn to do more, to help more people, to be better, to have more faith. It was especially difficult on Sunday when I couldn’t even help my son. Sometimes it’s hard to pray and ask for a miracle. I never know what to expect, and often feel like the father of the child Christ healed who said, “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.”

I have faith that God can heal Atrain—he has and he does. It is a miracle that my child was born profoundly deaf, but he talks clearer than many hearing three year olds. It’s is a miracle that Atrain can be on the floor—unable to move with such extreme cases of vertigo, then 36 hours later be up on his feet, pretending to fly like Peter Pan. It is a miracle. And as I sat by his side, praying that God would heal him, and listened to Dad give him a Priesthood blessing that told him he would feel better soon, there was a part of me that wants to ask, “Now, please—heal him now.” But why would Christ heal one blind man on the spot, and then in a separate case make clay spittle, rub it on another blind man’s eyes and command him to wash in the pool? God knows what we need. Miracles and faith are interdependent, but I don’t think there is a “miracle quota” to fill: x amount of faith = x amount of miracles. Faith is the process by which miracles come to pass, and as my faith grows, the comprehension of the miracles God brings to pass in my life also grows. I believe in God. I hope for a better world, especially for my sons. My hope anchors my soul, and my faith helps me keep going—keep trying, keep praying, especially when I’m searching for a miracle.

I love you brother. Keep up the good work.

Love,
MJ

A Weekend in the ER

Dear Elder I,

Hello sweet brother. Thank you for your letter. I would love to write you back a more personal, hand written letter some time. I hope I can make the time to do that this week. I sure do love and appreciate you.

This weekend was a doozy. I’m still recovering emotionally. Atrain was in the ER at Primary Childrens hospital. There’s nothing like a weekend in Primary Childrens to help you realize how fragile life is, how helpless we all really are, and how dependent I need to be upon God.

On Friday our little family went to Spork to spend the night. A friend of the husband’s had passed away and we were planning on attending his funeral; so sad, such a great man. He died from using dirty Heroin. But, we were trying to make the most of the time in Spork with Atrain, so we took him to a little play with Grandpatty and his cousins. “No Dogs Allowed,” was the name of it—it was funny, but not for the reasons the writer intended I’m sure. At least it kept the kids entertained.

Atrain had a good time with the cousins, and we went home and settled in bed like usual. He was so excited to be sleeping at Grandpatty’s with his favorite little people. I love watching him run around with them, reading books with them, trying to exercise his negotiation skills with them, etc. He’s such a huge light in my life. After a few hours of sleep he woke up yelling for me, so I laid down by him. Then I heard him gag, and up came everything he ate for dinner. About fifteen minutes passed and it happened again, then again, and again and again. I sat by him watching him wallow in his misery, feeling so sorry for my little guy. He hates throwing up and I hate watching him. He’ll let the initial upchuck come, then fight the rest, swallowing it back down. When Baby J woke up and needed attention the husband came by Atrain’s side.

By 7am he had thrown up about 15 times. When he saw that it was morning he tried to get up, but couldn’t stand. His eyes were spinning from side to side. He said he was dizzy. He said he was going to fall over. Every time he moved from one position he cried and his eyes kept spinning. We made a call to Dr. Grandpappa and he said to take him into the ER at PCH. Spinning eyes are not a typical flu-like symptom…they usually always mean something worse, especially when your kid has cochlear implants.

Within 15 minutes and after a quick Priesthood blessing, we were on our way to the hospital. The husband and I weren’t saying much. Worrying about our little Atrain kept our minds too busy to think about talking. Occasionally I would ask the husband what he was thinking, hoping that his thoughts were more optimistic than mine—his Cochlears? A tumor? Extra fluid in the brain? Balance issues? Flashbacks to the weeks after his CI surgery…he can’t get an MRI, what if the ER docs need to do an MRI? What if they have to remove his internal devices just to figure out what’s going on? I kept praying and hoping that he was just dehydrated, which made him dizzy. But I knew that probably wasn’t the case.

When we pulled into the ER instead of home Atrain started crying, “I don’t want the doctors. I want to go home and watch Peter Pan. Home! I want to go home,” he said. “I know Atrain, so do I,” I said, “but the doctors will help you feel better.” We signed all of the paper work and waited for them to call us back. The husband was looking up everything he could about nystagmus—spinning eyes. Jdog slept in his car seat. Atrain kept his eyes closed as he laid on my chest and clung his little arms around my neck. As I wrapped my arms around his long, skinny body I tried to divert my mind from its destructive thoughts. But it kept pushing my imagination right over the deep end. I wouldn’t know what to do without this little man in my life.

They finally took us back and Atrain was brave as they examined him. The ER doc didn’t have many answers. The Neurologist didn’t have many answers, but helped us rule out some of the scarier tumor scenarios. The ENT doc had a few guesses that weren’t all that comforting. We called all the specialists and friends we knew to get more input. Nothing. The docs decided to do an IV to get some fluid into him. He protested when I told him, but when the nurses came in to place it he didn’t even make a peep. They wrapped his IV arm in a little splint to keep it in place. Once they were gone he examined his hand and concluded that it was broken. Then he said, “I was so brave.” That tipped me over the edge. As I bounced baby J down the halls my breath shuttered as I cried and plead with God to help him be OK. I was trying not to let my fears overwhelm me. I was trying to hold onto my hope and my faith, but I needed help. I thought of the father of the child in Mark 9 who said to Christ, “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.”

After a few hours the ER doc came in our room with a possible explanation. He had pulled a research study done by a few docs at PCH. The study discussed the episodic occurrence of vertigo among individuals with Large Vestibular Aqueducts. LVA is the congenital defect that causes Atrain’s deafness, the reason why he has CIs. Apparently 48% of kids with LVA experience random episodes of vertigo—the “room is spinning” sensation that can happen to people in old age. I guess the Vestibular system controls your balance and when it’s a little large, sometimes your world can start spinning.

We didn’t expect this. No one had ever warned us about the possibility of random vertigo episodes associated with LVA. I guess that LVA is such a unique condition, and episodic vertigo only happens to a portion of the tiny LVA population—so it’s not well known or well researched. We don’t know what can trigger it. We don’t know how often it may occur. We’re not even 100% sure that this is what happened, but it was the most likely explanation.

Atrain kept the IV fluids down and they moved us to the overnight watch unit. When we got there he asked for dinosaurs. The dinosaurs came. He asked for Peter Pan. Peter Pan followed. He asked for chocolate milk. They started him on popsicles, which made him and us happier than we had been all day. He loved them. I loved the root beer slushy and jello that he didn’t eat. He began opening his eyes more, and could now lie on his back. He kept his head glued to the pillow, but it was progress. Soon enough he started to lift off of the pillow to tell us, “It’s my sick day today,” and “My broken arm is taking a big drink,” and “I’m not so dizzy any more.” Every time he spoke the husband and I smiled brightly, then exchanged relieved glances.

Night soon came and Atrain was keeping down the pizza, crackers, water and popsicles he dined on to his delight. Jdog needed a better place to sleep. The husband and I agreed that it was better that I take poor J home, away from the RSV floating around in the hospital. Hopefully he hadn’t already caught it. I was torn, especially when Atrain cried as I left, but I knew that the husband was the best company he could have. When I got back to our apartment I opened the door and saw all of Atrain’s toys, the unfinished plate of his food on the table, and his shoes lying next to the cubbies. I lost all composure. After putting baby J to bed I got into the shower and sobbed. The thought and fear of not having little Atrain in my home shook me.

I know that everything I have is from God. I know that it all can disappear in a moment—not because God is cruel, but because that’s just life. Even though God can, I don’t think He takes what He has given away from us. Loss and suffering and sickness and sin are just part of the world we live in. But that doesn’t mean that I should stop trying to rise above it all, to hope for something better. That’s why I believe in God—“whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men…” (our scripture, Ether 12:4). As I stood there sobbing and praying that my son would be alright, I simultaneously knew that sometimes some things aren’t alright and it’s not God’s fault. But in the chaos and calamity I also know that He has the power to save and to heal.

I couldn’t wait to get back to my boys at the hospital. When I went in the room they were snuggled by each other on the bed, sleeping. Atrain quickly awoke and asked for a snack. Good thing I had brought him some “sugar toast” from home. He sat up and snarfed it and I knew he was going to be fine. Soon enough he tried out his legs and exclaimed, “I can walk, look, I can walk,” although his balance was still visibly impaired, he was walking. We went home a few hours later. He is a miracle.

We still don’t know what to expect from here. It was a huge wake-up call that the condition that caused his deafness also has other miserable surprises lurking in Atrain’s future. But, we will keep going with a better perspective on what He faces, and also a better understanding of how much we really don’t understand. Such is life, right? I’m thankful he is well, hoping his improvement will continue and recommitted to praying more sincerely, with the certainty that life is uncertain and all I can really do is fasten my hope to God.

I better be on my way, brother. The kids will be waking soon and it is another day with many more unknowns waiting for me. I sure do love you. I’m so thankful for your service, your perspective and example. Keep up the good work.

Love, MJ

Ps-looks like the husband will be in Texas for two months this summer. He’ll be at MD Anderson Cancer Center doing research with the awesome docs there. It will be hard, but also an amazing opportunity to help him match at a good residency program in Radiation Oncology. Many things happening these days….hopefully I can write you more about the other humdrums of life soon. Love you.

Missionary Monday

Dear Elder I,

Hello JD. I hope that you are doing well. I have been thinking about you so much lately, wondering where in the world you are now, if you’ve been planting any more palm trees, if you’ve had any more opportunities to teach “golden” investigators, etc. I’m sure a lot of investigators are golden—some just need more time to refine than others. I sure need a lot of refining. I’m glad that the Lord has patience with us.

Yesterday was an interesting Sunday. The husband left for meetings really early and didn’t get back to pick us up until five minutes before church started. I was doing my best not to be impatient, especially with myself. I couldn’t seem to find anything to wear and I was getting more and more flustered by the minute. I don’t know why. I stood there flinging through the dresses in my closet, feeling sorry that my little one just wanted to be held, that I hadn’t don’t a great job preparing for Primary’s singing time (a calling that I don’t technically have any more—it’s complicated) and that I was a little miffed that my husband wasn’t home yet (he had the car and I’m trying to be early for church these days…). So, when the hubby came through the door at five minutes to the hour I was relieved to see him, but I shot him a wide-eyed “what took so long” look. As we rushed out the door he apologized, explained that the meeting went extra long, and then went on about concerns that were much more substantial than my “what should I wear” worries. Clothes don’t matter. People do. I felt stupid and sorry that I had even cared about which skirt to put on.

I sat there at the beginning (well, partway through the opening song if you want to be technical) of the meeting trying to pinpoint what exactly I was feeling: ashamed—sort of; restless—yes; tired—always; sorry—yes; guilty—no. I think that we Mormons misuse the word guilty. At least, I do. I stick it to situations like being late for church or not making cutesie home-baked refreshments or not dressing up enough for meetings, as if I’ve committed a moral crime. Perhaps a cultural crime, but that’s not what is most important.

I need to be better at the basics, like Elder Uchtdorf said last October, “As we turn to our Heavenly Father and seek his wisdom regarding the things that matter most, we learn over and over again the importance of four key relationships: with our God, with our families, with our fellowmen and with ourselves.” I think that the last couple of months have thrown me off in a few of these areas. I’ve readjusted pretty well after baby J’s birth, but I’m still relearning how to use my time. If I try a little harder to be a little better at developing these relationships, I know that I’ll find more happiness and fulfillment in each day. I know that it will help me be a better wife and mother. I know that God can help me understand the person I am and who I can become.

I don’t know what you’re going through out there, but I hope you don’t get discouraged over things that are not the most important. Don’t follow my lead on that one. J I’m going to do better at focusing on the simple, most important thing in my life. In Oct. 2006 Elder Ballard gave a great talk about Jacob’s “O Be Wise” call. He said:

Brothers and sisters, may we focus on the simple ways we can serve in the kingdom of God, always striving to change lives, including our own. What is most important in our Church responsibilities is not the statistics that are reported or the meetings that are held but whether or not individual people—ministered to one at a time just as the Savior did—have been lifted and encouraged and ultimately changed. Our task is to help others find the peace and the joy that only the gospel can give them. In seven words, Jesus summarized how we can accomplish this. He said, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).

I sure do love you JD! Thanks for your example and all that you are doing to bring peace and joy to others. I hope I can do the same out here, at the very least in my own family. That is what is most important.

Just so you know, I’m not this crazy every Sunday. Last week was much better. We got to take a loaf of our bread to church to be used for the sacrament. We went early and sat in the pews to watch the husband set things up. We talked about it a little, but I didn't really notice how much Atrain was soaking in until we got home from church. Atrain insisted on carrying the bag of left over bread in from the car. Then, when we got home he told me to sit down on the bench. He then told me to be reverent while he opened up the bag and passed me an entire slice. "I'm a sacrament boy," he said. "Just like dada." I hope he continues to see himself as a sacrament boy. Now we'll just have to work on saying prayers that are longer than, "Dear Heavenly Father...Amen!" Two steps forward, one step back, right.

I’m proud of you.

Love always,

MJ