Could it be? and Service

We have a new surgery date! Yay! Although I am still skeptical of it actually happening, it is on the books and scheduled. I am so looking forward to the process of recovery both from the health issues and from the surgery.

I have been thinking quite a bit about service. I read this blog post http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-toed-saints-revisited.html and then this one http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-toed-saints-revisited.html where the author of this awesome blog talks about service and what we need to do to be open to receiving and giving service.

I wanted to share you a man who is one of the most loving men I have ever met. His name is Scott. Scott was my parents home teacher when I was a small child. Scott is NOT the home teacher who dutifully showed at our home once a month with his suit and a carefully prepared lesson in hand. Scott is the kind of person who LOVED his brothers and sisters in the Gospel. When Scott first came to our home I was the only active member in our family. My father smoked cigarettes. He didn't go to church and my mother chose to stay home with him rather than argue with him. They were incredibly supportive of me though and drove me 1/2 hour each way every Sunday so that I could attend church meetings. Eventually my brother and sister started coming. Somewhere along the way, Scott discovered that if one of us had a part of some sort in Sacrament, my parents would attend to support us. Scott was also in the Bishopric. Suddenly about once a month myself or one of my siblings was the youth speaker or saying a prayer or singing a song. From there Scott gave the gentlest invitations to my father to come next week. He did this for years. (Not months, not days, YEARS.) He never pressured my dad. He would always visit, and talk to my dad about trucks or cars or work or hunting. He never hesitated that my father smelled of cigarettes. He was just a friend. After a long while my dad would come to Sacrament, but leave right after. Pretty soon Scott would grab my dad and say "Hey Brother M, I could use your help out at my truck." after Sacrament. My dad would dutifully follow Scott out to the truck, where Scott would ask my dad if he wanted to walk around the block. They would walk around the block while my dad smoked a cigarette and then go back to Sunday School and Priesthood. Once again, this lasted for years. In fact so long that we moved to a new ward. I grew up and got married. I went through the Temple. Six months after I was sealed to my hubby in the Manti Temple my parents were sealed and I was sealed to them. Scott had cheerfully served our family for more than a decade, without judgement and with patient love.

It would make sense if the story ended there, right? A couple of years later Hubby and I moved back into that ward. Scott was assigned to be our home teacher. Scott loved us with the same love that he loved my parents. One day Scott called me. He was concerned about my little brother. He had seen him down town and something didn't feel right. Little did he know that my brother had disappeared the day before. He was missing and I desperately needed the comfort of my home teacher at that time. Thankfully my brother returned home safely. Another time Hubby and I and our small children all went out on to the desert to join my family for a camping trip. We went over a cattle guard and both of our front tires blew at the same time. Hubby put our spare on one side and we carefully inched to the top of the hill. We tried calling my parents, my brother, nothing. For hours and hours we sat out in the desert. Finally a white truck drove by, turned around and came back. It was Scott. He just had a *feeling* he should drive out into the desert. He took our flat tire to town, paid for it to be repaired and returned the tire to us. I paid him the next Monday. Scott was so in tune with what we needed that he was able to be an instrument in our Father in Heaven's hands and provide for our needs. Several months ago I got a call from Scott. He had been feeling like he should call me. (Despite the fact we had moved from the ward a year before." I told him we were happy and doing well. He asked about my parents. Oh well, actually my mom is quite ill. Scott was able to visit and help my dad give my mom a blessing.

I never felt judged by Scott. I never felt that his efforts were insincere. He became the truest of friends to our family. I think that if more of us could be like Scott it wouldn't be so very hard to open our hearts and our homes to those who wish to serve us.

Anemia

This morning I decided to bake apples for my kiddos for lunch. It took me an hour to core the apples and stuff them. Now my arms are achy and sore. My legs feel like rubber and I feel like I could fall to sleep at a moments notice. It's 10:46 AM.

I am remembering years ago when I was first pregnant with my oldest daughter. The nurse at the doctors office did a simple blood test and explained it was for anemia. The test was normal and I forgot about it until the next time they tested when I was pregnant with my second child. My first brush with anemia happened when I lost my baby Nathaniel to stillbirth. I nearly bled to death during his delivery and suffered from anemia in the weeks following, Looking back I cannot separate the many symptoms I was feeling and decide which were from grief and which were from anemia. I do remember the headaches. I remember laying my head on the table at work, in so much pain that it hurt when someone walked by.

My next experience with anemia was after my first c-section several years later. Again, I have a hard time separating the symptoms of anemia and the postpartum depression I had. I was anemic after my next two c-sections. None, and I mean NONE of those experiences come close to the anemia I have experienced over the last year. The closest I can get to describing it is how you feel after a long hard hike, or run. Your muscles feel fatigued and every nerve seems to be jumping. Only I feel like that every minute of the day. Walking across my house or putting a load of laundry in make me gasp for breath. A long walk across a parking lot has me shaking and dizzy before I get to the store. My heart feels like it will pound out of my chest and my head feels like a river is rushing through it. Then there is the constant nausea that never seems to go away. The iron supplements make it worse. At the absolute worst I can not even move my arms. I need help to shower or use the bathroom. Just before the last transfusion, I could not wake myself up enough to help my three year old. (Thankfully there were other people in the house that could do it. )

My point I guess is that so few people really know what is going on with me. I mean, they know anemia. They just assume that I am a little tired and worn down. I don't ask for help because I worry that people will think I am expecting too much. Sometimes I feel invisible. Not because I want people to help me, but because I want to be helping. I want to be useful. I don't want pity. I want purpose. I wonder how many people are suffering with chronic conditions who feel very much the same way. I am hopeful that once this surgery finally happens, I can get back to being a productive member of society. My heart aches for those who have little hope of recovery.

A Happy Home

My world was falling down around me. Everything I thought I knew seemed to be slipping away. My bishop had visited with hubby, and now he was visiting with me. I don't think I heard most of what the bishop had said, but I heard this.

"What are you doing to make sure your husband comes home each day to a happy home?" the bishop asked. My mouth opened and closed without making a sound. I went back and forth between shock and anger. I hadn't done anything wrong. Hubby had ruined everything. It was all his fault. Why should I worry about making a happy home for him, when he had so badly hurt me?

I think it took me a full two days to calm down and really think about what my bishop was asking. I am a wife. I am a mother. My primary obligation is to my husband and children and making a home for them. The fact that I had been hurt by the choices that my husband was currently making did not diminish my responsibility to my family. In fact it was even more important now. When I finally stopped sulking, I noticed a difference in my family right away. Little things made all of the difference. I tried to make little efforts, (I know this sounds pathetic, but in my defense I was 8 months pregnant at the time.) Hubby liked it when he came home and our bed was made, dinner was at least in process and the kids happy. I tried not to unload on him the million and one things that I was frustrated with as soon as he walked in the door. I tried (and still try) to meet him with a smile, ask how his day was.

Now, a few years later we do things a little differently. Hubby calls me from the van on the way home. Don't worry, he puts the phone on speaker and puts it in his front pocket. I have 25-35 minutes to vent away. If the kids are driving me crazy, if something new broke (happens way too often at our house), if we got an unexpected bill in the mail, it all comes out in that phone call. In turn he complains about every crazy driver, every red light and every pot hole that annoys him. By the time he pulls in the driveway, we both feel better and can enjoy our evenings. With my current health issues in play, even getting the bed made or dinner on the table is hard. (Once again, in my defense, I do home school 4 children for 5 hours a day.) Hubby has been great to overlook my shortcomings and acknowledge my efforts. I think the biggest part of having a happy home really has been my own attitude. I am grateful to my bishop for asking me to re-evaluate what I was doing. It may not been easy advice to hear, but it made a huge difference for our home.

Do or Do Not

When my two oldest children were small I worked for a school that served mentally disabled children and adults. One day when I was feeling particularly frustrated at some task, I said "I am trying to...." An older member of the staff stopped me right there. He instructed me to "try to pick up the salt shaker on the table." Obediently I reached over and picked up the salt shaker. He took it out of my hand and sat it back on the table. "You picked up the salt shaker. I only asked you the *try* to pick up the salt shaker." I must have looked horribly perplexed, as I reached for the salt shaker a second time. He laughed a bit and said "Either do or do not. There is no try."

I have heard this sentiment a few times since then, and it has always struck a cord with me. How often do we choose to stay in "try" mode and do not commit one way or another. I think this is particularly relevant to our marriages. We need to be completely in our marriage. We can not have one foot in and one foot ready to run. For example, I sometimes hear people say that they are going to work on their marriage for six months, or a year....and then if they still are not happy then they will file for divorce. Another thing I hear is "I'll stay until I finish school" or "I'll stay until all of my kids are in school full time." There should not be an easy out button. Of course there has to be a safety zone for every person. We should never expect someone to stay in a dangerous situation. I am *not* addressing cases of abuse.

For those of us who are working on our marriage, I have found the following things helpful.

1) Be committed for the long run. Problems may not be able to be resolved in six months or a year.

2) Be compassionate, even if you feel you have been disappointed and betrayed.

3) Seek professional help as needed. Our first line of defense was our Bishop. We consulted with his regularly through the first part of our marriage. We also visited a marriage counselor.

4)Forgive and seek forgiveness, even for the little things.

5) Do all you can do to have a happy home.

6) Take care of your own health and encourage your spouse to do the same.

7) Take care of your spiritual health. Read your scriptures, say personal prayers, go to church, visit the temple.

8)Seek a pro-marriage support system. This can be difficult because the people you normally lean on may no longer be a option.

9)Look at your priorities and simplify as needed. It may mean giving up some things for a time.

10)Remember why you fell in love in the first place. Look for new ways to love your spouse.

Long Suffering

I hate that phrase. It just sounds horrible. Someone recently used that phrase to describe me. They meant it as a compliment....but really, when I hear it, it reminds me of a festering splinter. Not pleasant....at all. I actually looked up the definition of this odd phrase. Apparently, it means "patiently enduring." I guess that's ok. After all, we have been asked to "endure to the end." Another well meaning person once said "I know no one else who is as good at settling as you are." Ya, that wasn't my favorite compliment either.

I think both of these wonderful people were kind of missing the boat all together. I married the man I love. We were married for several years before we hit a major road block. It took some time, and was very painful for both of us. We took the opportunity to forgive each other and build and rebuild our relationship. Since then we have once again enjoyed a happy healthy relationship. OK, that's the condensed version, but what people forget the focus on is the last part. We *are* happy! We got to this point, because we worked at it. We did not give up. Most of all, the atonement of our Savior, which healed our wounds and repaired our hearts. When I look at my husband, I don't see the man who hurt me. In truth I don't think that man even exists any more. When I look at him, I see a man who loves me and I love him.

So many times, I think that people get stuck. They can't or wont let go of past hurts and remember that our Savior suffered for all of our sins and our pain. Everyone! He has already done the work and we don't have to carry that around with us. We don't have to feel all of that pain. So many more people could be happier. Maybe then we wouldn't consider it "long suffering" and just consider it love.