The Things That Don't Know to Pause

Mike’s brother Greg and his wife Rhonda just found out their oldest — Ruby, age 12 — has leukemia. Rhonda had just finished up her first semester towards a PhD at BYU (all while juggling a move, five young kids, their part-time COVID-style schooling, and managing a home) and was looking forward to the break of Christmas with her family. Ruby had been dealing with some nausea, joint pain and fatigue, so, on Tuesday, Rhonda took her to see their pediatrician. After running a few tests and taking a little blood, they were sent home. ... Only to receive a call later that very same night with the shocking news that Ruby had leukemia. Within less than an hour they were headed to Primary Children’s hospital. And by Thursday — not even 48 hours since the diagnosis (and with a million unknowns and questions and fears still looming in all of their minds) — chemotherapy treatments were already beginning. Their entire world drastically and unexpectedly flipped in an impossibly short amount of time.

All of us have been stripped bare by their news. Our hearts suddenly extended out — almost as if they’ll be pulled right from our chests — in some sort of laser-like focus towards their family in a helpless desire to somehow wrap them up safely and take some of this away. Prayers exiting our minds and ascending up to heaven over and over like a mantra. “Bless them, help them, strengthen them, lift them, bless them, help them!”

And it feels, as it always does when the most enormous things are happening to ourselves or those we love, that there should be some sort of a cease on the ordinary bits of living. Life should know to halt everything for a moment while this huge thing plays out.

But it doesn’t know.

Just now, as I wedged myself between the coats and boots along one wall of our narrow laundry room, held a basket firmly against the washing machine with my hip, and folded a batch of laundry in my rather sloppy way (you should see how Mike folds a shirt — all sharp edges and perfectly smooth), Mette drifted in. She was wearing a crown and had a long blue scarf draped about her. She spoke in a high, gentle voice and, referring to Hans (I assume) asked, “Is that little boy out there yours?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Why?”

“Oh,” she said airily. “I was just wondering.”

And then she drifted away again in the same graceful and stately manner she’d come.

Those things don’t know to stop. Laundry or homework, last Christmas presents purchased or kids playing princess, sending a package to Abe or checking on how Daisy’s finals are coming. But, even though they refuse to take the time out it seems they should, they do feel different.

They stand out more starkly.

And they exist amidst a backdrop of prayer and thoughts surging out constantly.

With that said ...

Jesse and Abe both had birthdays last week.

Jesse just turned 12. And it’s a marvel to me that he’s been bearing the Aaronic priesthood and passing the sacrament for nearly a year already when, in the past, he would only just be receiving it. The hamburgers he requested I make for his dinner were far too spicy — and almost none of us could finish them. But we made graham cracker ginger bread houses. And I told the story of his birth that began with a lot of fear that something was horribly wrong (and ended with a perfect boy with tiny elf ears in my arms). And I reminded him of the dream my sister had (as I woke with no baby day after day following his due date) of some evil spirit flying madly around my parents’ house (where we were staying when Jesse was born) desperately trying to somehow block this righteous and powerful soul from being born. (Literal or symbolic, it’s a strong truth about the good Jesse came here to do. Good that will prove a “disturber and annoyer of [Satan’s] kingdom”.) And his Sunday school teachers brought him a birthday treat and sang to him. And we let him stay up late and watch another episode of The Mandalorian. So it was a pretty good birthday.

Here are two of his birthday signs that I particularly liked. The first is from Abe. (He hasn’t yet forgotten to send a birthday sign for a sibling’s birthday. I love the “lucky water bottle filled with enemies’ tears”.) The second was from Goldie. Pretty clever.

Also, this birthday sign from Summer of Jesse becoming a “rich man” on his birthday isn’t bad. Nor is the sign from Mette: Jesse chasing a gingerbread man for his birthday.

And Abe turned 20. (Which catapulted me, quite suddenly, into a bracket of people much older than I ever thought I could be! I could have teenagers, certainly. But a 20 year old? It feels especially hard to wrap my mind around when there still exists such a host of babies toddling about this house.) He’s now had his second mission birthday and nearly his second mission Christmas. (Another thing that seems impossible to have come to pass.)

We got to speak to him briefly on his birthday. Not long enough to hear much. So I was overjoyed when, that evening, I received a small text from a woman in his ward with a little video of him at her home with birthday cake and pupusas. It was such a blessing to know that, while I couldn’t be there, God was placing willing others in spots to fill in. And that text became even more meaningful to me when I read this from Abe in his email home a few days later:

“The night before my birthday at around 9:30, the elders' quorum president called and told us that the next day the ward was doing a combined fast for the bishop, because he had just been taken to the hospital for COVID and was doing pretty bad. Now, I definitely shouldn't have, but at first I was kind of thinking, ‘Aw man! I was looking forward to some birthday food!’ My big plan was to go to a pupuseria for lunch where they sell a dozen pupusas for $15. Now I wasn't sure how I was getting some pupusas. I wrestled with it for a little, but finally as I went to bed I humbled myself and figured, ‘Oh well, I'm sure if I fast, God will provide a good birthday.’

“So anyways, the birthday continued with the fast. And it was really good! The assistants called in the morning to sing happy birthday, and about a million of you guys sent me some awesome emails. Thanks so much! Lunch came and went and it looked like pupusas were going to have to wait for another day. We went to visit a member later on who asked us to come help with some service. When we walked in, they turned on, ‘Mañanitas,’ the classic Spanish birthday song, and they had a cake, balloons . . . and pupusas!”

You can’t tell me God didn’t nudge that woman to decide on pupusas as the very food to serve for the fast-breaking meal at the end of this faithful little missionary’s birthday.

Speaking of Abe. Here is another experience he recently shared that particularly touched me:

“We went past a park, and a guy running around the track stopped and talked to us. He told us that he had been a missionary and asked if we had anywhere to eat that night. We asked what ward he was in, and he said he actually hadn't gone to church in a long time. But anyway, he gave us his address, and we went over. He was just the kindest man ever, and it was easy to see that he had just been terribly lonely. He only had one big plate, because he never has visitors. All he has for company is two cats. But he bought us a bunch of pizza and ice cream. We ate and watched President Nelson's gratitude message. Afterwards, he asked if it would be okay to have a blessing. We could tell that the visit was very meaningful to this lonely man that had not had any contact with the church for years. It was another testimony to me of how awesome God's plan is. If we had gotten to the park even thirty seconds earlier or later, we wouldn't have seen that guy. He really does put us where we need to be when we are about His business.”

The other morning, when I came out early to start waking kids for school, I noticed Mette was already up and sitting at the kitchen table. She was, apparently, in the true Christmas spirit and had written the following (I love “FR FR FR A WA” or “far far far away”.) After that, ... she decided to begin copying down the Book of Mormon. As you can see, that didn’t last incredibly long. ...

Speaking of Mette. This picture slid under my bedroom door (along with about twenty others from her) on a day when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed and had, perhaps, cried in front of my kids:

AND, I shall never cease adoring this Christmas gift she brought home from school for us. Snowman Mette. I laugh every time I look at it. It’s just so great and reminds me slightly of the kid from A Christmas Story all bundled up for his walk to school.

The other day at the grocery store I kept calling to Hans to stay with me as he lingered on the Christmas isle. “But I want to play with the nunchucks!” he protested. I didn’t see any Christmas nunchucks. Since when has Christmas been about ... ninjas and karate? But I was in a hurry and didn’t pay it any heed; until the next day, ... when he pointed out the “nunchucks” in one of our Christmas books. That’s when I realized that most of us know his nunchucks as nutcrackers. But I’m certainly not correcting him.

And look at this! A picture I came across of Mike and Hans just two days after our boy was born. I didn’t remember having taken it. It made me happy.

I think I mentioned in my last post how someone candy-caned our house in early December (which was an utter delight for our children). But we seem to be the favored little Christmas family this year because another someone left this on our doorstep (along with a new Christmas book and a package of Oreos)!

We’ve since received hot cocoa, muffins, coloring books and puzzles. We have no idea who is doing it. And it has been so incredibly fun and exciting for my kids to anticipate some surprise on our porch every single night until Christmas! I’m very grateful to whoever our thoughtful givers have been. It makes me want to be much better at thinking of special little things to brighten people’s lives.

Our ward Christmas party was a drive-in. They set up a twenty foot screen and arranged a radio station for us to tune into so we could hear the messages. Among other things there were surprise, videoed, Christmas wishes from various members of our ward — including our missionaries! It was happy to see Abe on there wishing everyone a merry Christmas. And, while I’d been hesitant to attend (our van loaded with kids is usually not the greatest place to spend an hour!), it went quite well!

My mom came and read Christmas books to the kids. (I know. I know. It’s COVID times. But she won’t be cautious. And so we may as well enjoy her! And our kids did enjoy her! They love this tradition that began sort of accidentally but has continued for probably four years now!)

Lastly, Anders anonymously left this note on the wall last week in hopes of enticing responses from siblings who wouldn’t be able to resist replying (thereby gaining some fantastic teasing powers). Unfortunately he only got one response. ... (Though it looks, from that scribbled out portion, that perhaps someone else responded. Then thought better of it.)

And that’s all for now. My next post will probably be a post of CHRISTMAS! As usual it’s coming far too quickly. And there’s not nearly enough time left for all the Christmas music and Christmas activities that one wants to take in during this month! But, we’ve gotten mostly ready with surprisingly little stress. I’m not even quite sure how. But things are nearly all purchased (though we are still several gifts short and wrapping hasn’t even considered commencing). And I’m excited about the last few days leading up to Christmas with Daisy home, and no more school, and presents, hopefully, getting themselves wrapped!