Guardian Angel

This morning we had the church cleaning assignment. I love those. I get to rouse the kids early and start a Saturday out right. We always go for donuts afterwards too. Ryan also seemed to be looking forward to it. The girls were OK with the idea too, last night, but his morning it was a little challenging to tear themselves away from their beds. But they did and the four of us made our way to the church (Kara is still out of town.)

Unfortunately, I have to consider my limitations when doing, well, anything, but I could do this. I am feeling a lot better than when we did this last time. This notwithstanding, as we lined up to get our specific work assignments I was secretly hoping for “arrange hymnals.” I did this last time and the nice thing about it is you can sit down whenever necessary. I crossed my fingers. Then I heard the sister ask a pair of 6-year-old girls to do the hymnals. Dang. We should have got there sooner; the competition is stiff for the baby jobs.

They asked me if I would man the big vacuum. Sure, I think. I figured at least it was something I could lean on. It was like a walker with noise! No problem. Well, no problem at first, but as my body temperature rises, my walking skills rapidly decline. I had done about 60% of the job when I noticed that it was getting pretty hard. Just then my “guardian angel” named Ryan appeared. “Dad, I can finish that. Why don’t you rest for a minute?” Whew.  You know, I don't think he just happened to wander past.  He's always mindful of me, which is a concept that brings me a curious mix of joy and sorrow.

I mean, I loved that he offered, but I hated that I had to take him up on it.  Also, I hated sitting on the couch like I was relaxing as everyone was busily cleaning. I know everyone there understands but I wished I had a sign that read “Just cooling off so I can make it back to the car.” OK, that is hyperbole; it wasn’t that bad. How about, “Cooling off but covered by progeny.”

While I sat there, the bishop’s 2-year-old daughter wandered by. She was not cleaning either so I didn’t feel so bad. She was watching her brothers clean the outside of the glass doors; I figured that I could at least keep an eye on her. Probably not necessary but I wasn’t doing anything else. So that is how I spent the last 15 minutes. Many hands make light work and soon we were off to Donut King. Don’t worry; I abstained for my diet’s sake but the kids were well-rewarded. Great morning.

Constitutionally Broke

Not broken, just broke. I mean by that is that I cannot emotionally afford to do things like contemplate or reminisce very much. One evening last month I innocently strayed a little too far in these waters and the result was not pretty. It was just during a nice moment at our family reunion. Dusk was nearing, the evening was cool, and everyone was gathering for fireworks. I was sitting on the patio just observing. The kids were playing so well. Natalie and Erika especially were in “cousin heaven.” I couldn’t help but consider how fortunate I am to be part of this family. Not bragging but it is basically perfect. Not the individuals, but I am convinced that collectively there is no finer group.

As soon as I had these thoughts I quickly changed my focus to something else, anything else, my sandals, baseball cards, fireworks safety, etc. Whew. That was a close call. OK, who do the Angels play today?

Anyway, my sister sat beside me but she didn’t say anything. I think the silence begged for a contemplative statement. I figured I was safe because I’d already had the thoughts; I was OK. I wanted to say “Sometimes I think we have the best family, ever.” I tried to say it quickly but I was not fast enough. The torrent of emotion surged and completely overpowered me cutting off the last two words entirely. I get so mad at this. My family already worries too much about me without my spontaneous sobbing. I hastily excused myself and walked a few steps away. I covered my face and felt racked with emotion. I cursed myself for this weakness. Of course she followed me, concerned that I was not OK. A brother-in-law noticed the little scene and asked if something was wrong.

It was evidence that they are watching out for me. Heaven forbid there really was something wrong. Had I stumbled or something there would surely be ten hands there to catch me. I do not deserve this attention, I do not want this care, and I hate sounding false alarms like this. Nothing was wrong; just the opposite, everything was so right that, when contemplated just for a minute, the signals in my head somehow got all whacked out.

Today my baby left for college. It is a day just begging for reflection, contemplation and tears. But I can’t afford that. I’m broke. I am home alone today, so no need to worry about a scene, but I just stay focused on present concerns. I knew this was coming and I am really excited for her. She is just going to school. In fact, it will be easier for me to communicate with her now. Maybe I can save up a little composure and cry my eyes out next week but not today.

Going Nuts

So after a month of eggs and turkey bacon five days a week I wanted to branch out. I know toast is on the prohibited list for me (something about flour being a thyroid stressor) but what about hash browns?

I asked Dr. Ardis and in a display that he’s starting to anticipate possible ulterior motives, he said, “At McDonald’s? No, not OK.”

“No,” I explained, at home, where I actually shred potatoes, brown potatoes, organic turkey-brown potatoes I think.”

He said that would be OK, but that I should fry them in coconut oil. Even though I’d never heard of that, I nodded as if I was an old hand at alternative oils. I didn’t even know coconuts had oil, but sure, why not? If turkey can have bacon…I'm learning all kinds of things.

I secretly crossed my fingers then I timidly asked, “Ketchup?”

He asked, “At home?”

Lesson #8

So, it is Lesson Eve again. This week I am combining two lessons because the fist one just didn’t have enough traction, by that I mean I just could not glean 45 minutes worth of actionable teachings. Besides, I have five more  sessions this year to cover seven lessons.

I will say that I feel very ready this week. I think I’ve gotten past worrying about the voice. The class is used to it by now. I’m sure I will still be a little self-conscious and while teaching I will get a little frustrated but it will be OK.  The highlight is sure to be Ryan joining us to do some role-play.  He'll be reading a couple of short scripted dialogs opposite a friend of mine.

Health update: Wednesday I began a new treatment.  It is a spray called "Metal Free" and is supposed to be very potent at removing metals from your system.  I am having a pretty good week diet-wise.  I think the doc will be happy.  I've eaten no candy or had no soda.  For most of today I felt very tired, but not uncomfortable. My biggest stress was getting the lesson finished.

Worlds are Colliding

I’m finding that my new doctor, the nutrition guy, is not a “hit-you-over-the-head-with-it-granola-zealot”, but he is gradually indoctrinating me. He has me keep a detailed food journal and each week we review it. He highlights the items that he disapproves of and explains why. The list of prohibitions is getting long: sweets, breads, soda, fried or processed food, and even pasta. It’s basically sugars, oils, and grains. (The latter due to FDA-mandated chemical treatments.) Each week I do a little better and get fewer highlights. It isn’t so much that these things are bad for MS, he is just trying to do everything to promote healing from within as he is steadily detoxifying my system.

Today I stopped in for a quick question. Ryan was with me and we were planning on grabbing some lunch afterward. I had an idea: I’d ask his advice on what might be tolerable from the Taco Bell menu. I said “So, we’re going to Taco Bell and…” He cut me off with “No you aren’t.” I asked, “Wendy’s?” He said I should avoid all fast food. What? That is one of the staples in my diet – probably the healthiest. I tried to explain. You see, we are really bad, nutritionally, at our house. If he went through our pantry and refrigerator, he would say “Go to Taco Bell.” The most wholesome and natural thing we have is a box of Good n Plenty. He laughed, “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Oh, it is.

I went to a movie over the weekend with Kara and passed on the popcorn and soda, but I did indulge in some chocolate-covered raisins and a few Bit o’ Honey. While perusing my food log the doctor asked, (showing his junk food shelter level) “Bit o’ Honey? Is that a cough drop?”

“What?! I thought it was a food group.”

 

By the way, energy level: better, vision: good (I'm reading a Dickens novel), but the voice is still a disaster.  I can go up the stairs without the handrail but not down.

Crawling through Pages

So, this is my single adult fireside talk I gave tonight, essentially. It is actually a Reader's Digest version. (It might be helpful to read my previous post for more background on this first.) My introduction did include a few words on my background and my MS.
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Let me begin by apologizing for my voice. A few months ago Bev Roberts (former Stake President's wife) asked me how I was feeling. I told her, “A lot better than I sound.” She answered, “Good!” Truth is that my voice makes it sound like I’m WAY worse than I am. My voice trouble is without question my biggest MS challenge at present.
So when I was a teenager I heard the following poem called “Don’t quit”

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When funds are low and debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest! if you must; but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Success is failure turned inside out;
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt;
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit;
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

I thought it was awesome so memorized it. I figured it would be handy to recall during the periods of trial and hardship that were surely ahead. Everything was great at the time: health, family, friends, finances. I envisioned difficulty learning a foreign language on my mission, perhaps some homesickness, some discouragement, I figured I would go to college and it would be hard. Long story short, in my mind I kind of envisioned the adversity I would face and I was ready for it. I had a poem!
I have to tell you, some things were not as bad as I thought, like homesickness on my mission. It wasn’t too bad. Other things were a lot worse than I had envisioned, like mission discouragement. But most things pretty well went as I planned. Work and career, hard but rewarding, church callings, same, raising children? A joy beyond description but also extremely taxing.
And then three years ago I started having issues with my central nervous system and was diagnosed with MS. I expected the trial of serious health problems in my 70s or 80s but this wasn’t right. I was only 41! The poem didn’t say anything about neurodegenerative diseases. I tried to get out of it. I mean, I understand the principle of adversity: makes you stronger, necessary part of life, etc. but I didn’t want to actually have to go through it. At least not at 41. Couldn’t we just put this on hold for 40 years? I had things to do, I am still raising my kids and providing for my family. This was a bad time for adversity.
I saw a lot of doctors and specialists, gave myself over 200 shots, have taken over 1,000 pills yet and three years later I am worse, not better. What about help from the Divine? Maybe I just needed to show a little faith. I got priesthood blessings, I prayed earnestly, I know that my family prayed too, and fasted. I will say that the blessing provided inestimable comfort, and I have felt blessed through the fasts, but for some reason, the Lord’s hand has been stayed from granting me a full remission, so far.
But enough about me. What about you? I am certain that everyone here has their share of adversity. How are you dealing with yours? I want you to think about your biggest problem or two. Will they go away? Probably not. Will they get smaller? Maybe, I don’t know, but I will remind you that without them life would be meaningless. But maybe you REALLY don’t like your challenges. I get that. I hate mine but that’s kind of the nature of adversity.
Why doesn’t the Lord just help us out? Does he have the power? Sure, but will he? Is that how he works? The scriptures are filled with stories of people with problems, good and faithful people. For example, the people of Alma suffered under the hand of their enemies. The Lord didn’t just kill off their oppressors, but he did not forget his faithful people either. Listen to what he did:

5 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

It has been said that we will each have our personal Gethsemane. I don’t know about that – I don’t know if it is fair to compare our trials to the great and infinite atonement- and that makes it sound like there is just one. I do believe that everyone will have adversity in many forms. Maybe it is health, maybe financial, maybe a crisis of faith or testimony, maybe romance adversity, maybe the loss of a loved one. I do not believe that life is supposed to be limited to one major chunk of adversity; one defining day but rather a lifetime of challenges, both great and small.
Our challenges are real, but I think it helps to put them in their proper perspective. Imagine sitting at a ward social in the Celestial Kingdom, sharing a big round table with a handcart pioneer and Abinadi. The first person explains how they had to bury their child in a shallow grave along the trail and then Abinadi tells the story of how he had to preach in disguise and was later put to death by fire. Then they look at me and ask,

“So, what is your story? What did you have to overcome?”

What will I say?

“My voice was real weak. Crazy weak. AND then I had to give this fireside! Hey Abinadi, can you pass the water?”

I don’t mean to trivialize our adversities, my adversity. It is hard. But only compared to my life before MS, not compared to the history of mankind. If you ever start feeling that your trials are too much, the scriptures are filled with stories of men and women who had it way worse than you and me.
I have kept a pretty good journal for 30 years. The other day I was reading one from 1999. It's funny what I worried about back then. Sometimes I wish I could crawl through the pages and say, “Dave, don’t fret so much about work, it’ll be fine.”
I recently read The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom. She was a Dutch woman, a devout Christian, in her 40s during World War 2, working in “the underground” to protect (and hide) Jews from the Germans. In early 1944 she was arrested and imprisoned in Holland and later transferred to a horrible German concentration camp. Her father, sister, and nephew all died in prison. As I read the book, I couldn’t help but feel the same desire to crawl through the pages and through time and tell her, “Don’t worry Corrie, the allies are coming. The war is almost over!”
Although she provides graphic detail, I cannot really understand the horror because I know how it ends. I have hindsight now, perspective. I know that the good guys will win the war, fascism will be stamped out, and Corrie Ten Boom will live into her 90s tirelessly preaching of Jesus Christ and the Bible. Hang in there Corrie, the allies are coming! But when she was suffering this adversity, I’m convinced that part of the trial is not knowing. We can’t know.
Think of the prophet Joseph in Liberty jail. I’m sure that he did not anticipate the adversity he suffered there, and with hindsight I don’t think we can fully comprehend his suffering. This was bad: the Saints were being chased from their homes in Far West, some had been killed, friends were turning on him, the physical privations were severe. He felt forsaken. He cried out, “Oh God. Where art Thou?”
If he had known it was just going to be five months, a pretty rough five months, but then he’d be freed, this experience will make for some great sections of the Doctrine and Covenants, he’d move the saints to Illinois, build Nauvoo, and the Church would flourish. If he could have known that, I think it would have been more tolerable. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. That’s the nature of adversity:

• you don’t always see it coming,
• it can be worse than you expected, and
• you can’t know how long it is going to last.

Are you struggling through some adversity that meets those criteria? You didn’t expect it, it is harder than you thought anything would be, and there is no definite end in sight? Who from the future is trying to crawl through your pages and tell you, “It’s OK, just hang on, just a little while longer, the allies are coming, relief is almost there, everything will be fine.”
Listen to what the Lord told Joseph while he was incarcerated in Liberty:

7 My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
8 And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.
9 Thy friends do stand by thee, and they shall hail thee again with warm hearts and friendly hands.

So although we don’t get to know the specifics of the future of the resolution of our issues, we are not left without comfort. In the last General Conference, Elder Holland spoke on the atonement, and how the Savior had to suffer alone, and how being without comfort or support from anyone, either on Earth or in heaven, was somehow part of that infinite atoning process. However, he counseled that we do not have to wade through adversity alone. I know that I have not been alone for a moment of my little health challenge. I’m actually kind of embarrassed by the amount of love and support I have received from family and friends.
It is my hope that we can each “endure it well” and learn to appreciate the adversity in our lives and trust that it will be for our good someday.

My Latest Adversity

A few months ago I was asked to speak at a stake single adult fireside. The topic was Humor and Adversity. Given that my single biggest challenge at present is my failing voice, I thought the request was humorous, but I acquiesced.

This week the lady in charge e-mailed me and said I would have about 40 minutes. Yeah, you might want to have the brownies ready a little early; I’ll be fortunate to go ten. It would be held in the same room as my Sunday school classes, and I’d have the same little microphone, but in class I am pretty liberal assigning parts to be read. Could I do that in this setting? It might be untraditional but I might have to.

I prepared my talk as best as I could and tried not to worry too much about the actual speaking part. However, I did write it out and printed it with a large font and a lot of page breaks so that I could hand off parts of it if necessary. I liked the talk, and felt guided on several occasions while preparing it.

The finished product was about 3,000 words, or about 20 minutes. I was very worried about delivery. This afternoon Kara said, “It’ll be fine; you’re not as hard to hear as you think.” That was kind of her but I don’t think she understands how hard it is for me to say anything; to say nothing of giving a 20-minute discourse. As I’ve mentioned before, it isn’t just the vocal cords; it’s my throat, my soft palate, my whole mouth just stops responding when fatigued.

I was very concerned about the whole ordeal. As I was driving to the church I had the distinct impression not to be so concerned, this wasn’t about me and my vocal challenge. I would have enough voice, and enough composure to get the message to the person that needed it. Just do my best, use others if I needed to, but this was about getting the lesson taught in that setting, not necessarily about the speaker. That was a relief.

So, how did it go? Pretty much as expected. I was strained, but audible. Two members of the Stake Presidency were seated on the front row and I did ask them to come up and read a few things for me, likely earning me a reprieve from future stake speaking assignments. At about 25 minutes my mouth revolted so I skipped the last section and closed. I think I had made my point.  I was starting to slur words. You know the “I say these things…” ending? I think I said it with like seven syllables. Maybe six.

I’ll post the talk itself later. I called it "Crawling through Pages." (Keep in mind that I think it reads much better than it sounded!)