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August 12, 2018

No. 1 Six years ago, It was August 11th, a Saturday evening like yesterday and my brother called very alarmed that Mom would not make it though the night. He expressed concern that she losing weight and couldn't eat. He also mentioned that she was quite weak and couldn't stand on her own. Needless to say, I went to bed stressed. This was a turning point for me in that I accepted the fact that Mom's health was failing; I could no longer be in denial. The next morning the alarm woke me up to remind me to take my daily prescription. I realized then that my phone did not ring during the night. I thought of a magnet I had on the kitchen stove; Hugh B. Brown's quote "Night never had the last word. The dawn is always invincible." This was such a comfort to read in those early hours. This quote got me through the next month as Mom's health continued to decline and thru the next year as I worked on her estate. It was a reminder that the dawn will come after a dark night.

August 18, 2018

No. 2 — 8.17.12 “Got good news! Now I want to cry. Life is good and yep, it goes on.”

When this post came up on Facebook book memories on Friday, I was confused. My mom had just been diagnosed with stage 4 non-Hodgkins lymphoma cancer. All I could remember is that the news had something to do with my mom. Maybe the news was that her cancer was treatable or some other seemingly small news that was significant enough to make me smile & cry; something that gave me hope. 

Even though I can’t remember exactly what the good news was, I realize that the Lord is mindful of us when we pass through our trials and tribulations. He is our light and walks with us. I’m reminded of the poem “Footsteps”, which gave me comfort when my dad passed away.

August 19, 2018

No. 3 -  August 25, 2012 10:01 PM 

Thanks, Mom for taking care of me. I was glad that I could hear you tonight. Granted I was listening with my good ear while talking on the phone. Your voice was weak and I'm pretty sure you weren't speaking directly into the phone, but I got to hear you. Thanks for all those trips to Salt Lake for my hearing tests and for staying with me when I had my surgery. The bones in my ear may have grown back together, but the surgery wasn't in vain. I learned compassion and to have faith. I don't think I could have gotten thru losing Dad and my other trials if you hadn't spent the time caring for me. I don't know why, Mom, but when I think of the fight you are fighting now; I feel a peace. I don't know the outcome, but I know that somehow things will work out. Love is eternal. I love you and I always will. 

Take care, Susan  

8.27.12 Mom is weak, but she is also a fighter. It is hard for her talk, but she can hear quite well. She had lost weight this summer and was diagnosed about two weeks ago with stage 4 non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. She went downhill quickly. She could talk to me a month ago and now it is simple words or just a nod. My mom is strong and courageous. 

8.28.18 Six years ago this week, my mom was admitted to the hospital in Auburn, Washington where she stayed for two weeks, but at the time it seemed like a month. It was during this time that I bonded in my mom in an unexpected way. When I was twelve, I had surgery on my left ear at the Holy Cross Hospital in Salt Lake City and when I could hear my mom’s weak voice, I felt a strong connection with her; she was a light to me in her final days. Because of her light, I experienced a deep gratitude for the sacrifices that my parents made when I had that surgery. I also witnessed another part of the miracle being fulfilled. Although my hearing wasn’t what it was after my surgery, I could hear my mom’s grunts and other small noises and that meant a lot to me. l felt my mom’s love 900 miles away. My parents will always love me. ️ Because love is eternal.

September 9, 2018

No. 4 - An infectious smile is healthy.

9.9.12 - “My mom is smiling at the world. My sister, Mary texted this picture Saturday evening (9.8.12) while Jay and I were at Stake Conference. When I saw this picture, I had to chuckle. This is her typical smile and it was so refreshing to see after the earlier pictures that had been texted. I saved it on my card in my cellphone and then took the card out and into the PC. I printed off a copy for my brother who does not have cellphone or Internet connection. When I finished that I emailed to my aunts, a cousin and of course my siblings. When I got back to my iPad, I checked my email and saved the picture. Every time I open my iPad there is my Mom smiling at me. And thanks to the digital age, my Mom is smiling at the world. Yeah, I even posted it on Facebook. So, a smile that is infectious is healthy. It was for me.” 

2018 - I keep this picture of my mom by bed side. I still talk to this picture, but not as often as I did 5 or 6 years ago. Sometimes I laugh with her, sometimes I tell her my concerns and sometimes it is just a chat. She is still with me, even though she’s in heaven watching over me. And I still imagine that infectious healthy smile.

September 14, 2018

Finding peace in Christ 

No. 5 - I was at the Salt Lake Airport when my sister called to tell me that she didn’t think my mom would make it. When I made the reservation a few weeks earlier, I decided that I would go to Seattle no matter what; I could always visit with my sisters, even if my mom wasn’t there. And besides I had already gone through security. Awhile later my other sister called and told me that my mom had passed. I couldn’t even cry; I was so numb with shock. And an airport is no place to freak out. But I did feel a peace when I was standing in line to board. I sensed my mom beside me in the tunnel from the building to the plane. She was my angel in time of distress. 

9.14.12 “My Mom is well. She is with my Dad once again and having a joyful reunion with her sister, Verla and her parents. She has even met my Grandpa Jackson for the first time. I will miss my Mom, but I have the faith that she is where she needs to be, with her family that she hasn't seen for so long. Mom, like my Dad will continue to watch over me. Thank you all for your support and prayers during this ordeal. It has meant a lot. Prayers were answered and will continue to be answered.”

I wrote that two or three weeks before my mom passed away. When she made it through another tough night and I knew mom didn’t have long on earth. So I wrote the words that I would post later on Facebook. After my niece picked me up at the Seattle airport and as she took me to the care center, I got my iPad out and posted it. What strikes me is how peaceful I felt at the care center. When my niece told me that we heading to the care center, I wanted to tell her no. I’m not a fan of dead bodies or care centers. But I kept quiet. Seeing my mom’s body wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. I was okay touching her; she was still soft. I even managed to move her arm without her protesting. And when the mortuary person wheeled her out of the room, I saluted her; she served her family, her neighbors, her community well.

9.14.15 “Three years ago at the end of the day, I knelt to say my prayers. Mom had passed earlier that day and I found wanting to pray for her family like I would when a dear friend or neighbors' loved one had died. I paused and then I realized that there were those who were praying for me and my siblings that we would be comforted and strengthened in our time of need. I was humbled at this impression. People really do care about each other, especially in our times of need.”

September 22, 2018

Remembering smiles on a tough day

No. 6 - 9.22.12 “Long tough day ahead.” What I posted on Facebook that Saturday morning before I left to go to the church in Paul. When we got to the church before the service, I didn’t recognize my mom. Someone fixed up her hair real fancy, so much that she looked more like the clerk at the Fairfield Inn than my mom. The only way I recognized her was by her flat chest & the color of her hair. I’m glad my niece drove me to the care center before the mortuary took her away. 🤭

9.22.12 “Still tender. On the way back to Burley, we stopped at the cemetery for quick visit at Mom's new place. Thanks to all the family and friends who came. I even got to see my old bus driver, Missy, who did my Mom's hair and my 4H leader.” Reminds me of what someone said at my sister’s wedding - most family reunions happen at weddings and funerals. I think I like wedding and baby blessing reunions better. But it is still good to have a family reunion during a funeral potato fest. Except my mom wanted a taco bar celebration when we returned from the cemetery. My niece thought my mom was the coolest grandma ever.  

9.22.12 “I learned from my Mom's old home teacher that we shared an addiction - chocolate.” I was shocked that she craved chocolate like me. My mom’s former home teacher told the audience that my mom would sneak chocolate. And it was true, I never caught her snitching chocolates, but I did take a picture of her enjoying some sweets at the Kennecott visitors’ center once. 🤫

Facebook replies - 

Your mom was very strong woman... a homesteader... raised you and family in some tough times... It was a wonderful life... may she rest in peace... and may you cherish that you had such a good mother... from Randy

May God continue to heal and comfort you and your family during this difficult time. I'm sure you have so many memories to treasure forever and although I didn't know her, I know she left behind a legacy that lives on through you and other family members. from Sylvia

What Change Taught Me In 2018

If I could sum up 2018 in one word, it would be change. And it will probably be the same for 2019.

Probably the 1st thing I learned about change is that my ♥️ heart needs to be all in with the change that I'm making. My doctor asked me to give up gluten friendly foods. She had asked me to give up wheat 🌾 and 🥔 potatoes 3 years earlier, but my ♥️ heart wasn’t into giving up the wheat while I gave up the potatoes. This time my heart was more into becoming gluten-free; I found easier to adapt to the changes in my diet. 

As the year progressed, I found change can be good, but it's hard, because change is like repenting. Changing my diet involved changing my ways. Another doctor also asked me cut down on my🧂sodium intake. I wasn’t in the habit of adding salt to my food I ate, but I had to eliminate the processed foods I did eat. No more 🌭 hot dogs . I was checking labels more throughly.

Change was also hard because I got depressed. Sometimes I felt like I no longer belonged at the table. I thought people didn’t want to involve me in their lunch plans because I was burden. Going to McDonalds was frustrating because the menu was very gluten friendly. But I found out if I asked the cashier to wrap it in lettuce, I could enjoy a 🍔 burger or other sandwiches. And 🌽 corn tortillas make for a great grilled cheese. 

Change also involves forgiving. One Sunday as the sacrament tray was being passed, I took the tiny piece of bread 🍞 instead of the Cheerio. When I popped into my mouth I realized my mistake. I couldn’t put it back, so I just swallowed it. I found myself resolving not to do it again and forgiving myself for not paying attention to what I was doing. 

Forgiveness is letting go and not taking offense. Forgiving was understanding why people didn’t involve me because they were also going through changes. Forgiveness involves a change of ♥️ heart. My friend suggested that I pray to have both my heart & a neighbor’s heart soften. Forgiving is repenting of a grudge. As I would scroll through Facebook posts, I found it best to ignore the angry, self righteous words and let that person have his or her opinion; it was okay to disagree on the Supreme Court nominee. 

A lot changed in 2018; it wasn’t just my diet. There were changes at work and quite a lot of changes in my church. The news 📰 media always reports on various changes. And as I said earlier, it will probably be the same for 2019. 

Be A Light

10.23.17 Choose The Right. While I was reading Jeffrey R. Holland's October 2017 General Conference address Sunday night, I felt the words "Be a Light" enter my mind. I had just walked "Light The Night" with some of my family the night before. After I read the talk, I thought of how being a light to others is choosing the right. We don't always realize that others are looking to us for direction, maybe because we are looking for the light that others provide. I realized that being a light is thinking of others, which is the essence of being kind. Thinking of others isn’t ignoring ourselves at the expense of others. We can focus on others while being mindful of ourselves. It has been said that humility isn’t thinking less of ourselves but thinking less about ourselves. 

11.9.17 Be More Open. As I rode the bus this morning I thought of what it is to be a light.  And to my surprise, I found myself thinking about being more open and not being embarrassed about our weaknesses. Often we let the need to be perfect hide our weaknesses. Pride can cover or hide our true self and then our light doesn’t shine as brightly as it could. Being transparent about our struggles can be inspiring to other who are also struggling. We all have our Gethsemane to walk through in our lives. Our sufferings can teach us to be more compassionate and understanding toward others; to be more like Christ, who loved us unconditionally. During one of her toughest trials, a friend discovered that she had been an inspiration when a person sent her a note thanking her for the positive attitude.

11.19.17 “How are you?” Sometimes it is the simple acts that do the most good. Today one of the speakers in Sacrament Meeting talked of the hymn “Have I Done Any Good?” He spoke of the little acts of kindness that we do each day. Like asking how someone is doing, greeting a person with a warm welcome, opening the door, smiling when passing in the hallway and etc. One of the best acts of kindness I received was when someone didn’t offer advice; she just listened.

11.25.17 Walk With Others. Life is not a race to the swiftest; it is a journey where we walk with each other to each of our finish lines. It doesn’t matter who gets there first. One thing I’ve noticed about “Light The Night” is that is a walk, not a race. No one gets a reward or medal for being first, second or third. Various teams are walking together and there is no “official” start or finish line to cross. Everyone who is registered for the event carries a lantern, a symbol to bring a light to the darkness of cancer. Walking with another isn’t walking ahead or behind, but together beside each other towards the finish line. Although at times it may seem that we walk alone, we really aren't. I have found support as I passed through my trials and it has been comforting to know that others cared.

12.03.17 Who Needs Me Today? (Bonnie Oscarson)  It is easy when we are struggling to ask what others can do for us. It is harder to ask what we can do for others. But it can be done. If my mom can do it, anyone can. In her final days, my mom was not only bed ridden, but she couldn’t speak either. She could still smile at the nurses and somehow managed to thank them for the service they gave her.  Our burdens can be lighter when we serve others. It doesn’t have to be big; it can be a random act of kindness, like opening the door for a person who hands are full or like my mom - smiling at others. So instead of thinking what others can do for you; ask yourself what you can do for others. So let's be a light in our communities, let's bear one another's burdens. Let us love others as Christ loves us.

Day of the Dead Post 4

I have a nephew who reminds me of my grandma. My grandma died six months after my dad passed away, so my nephew has never met her. Except for maybe heaven. My nephew has a kind soul just like my grandma did.

My grandma would make  caramel popcorn balls for her grandchildren each Christmas. One year she told my mom that she wouldn’t make the popcorn balls because the price of sugar had gone up. But my grandma had a change of heart and we were surprised with a box of caramel popcorn balls. Maybe not as much as the years before. Grandma just couldn’t deprive her grandchildren of a treat they grown to love. 

A few years or more after World War II ended, my aunt introduced a young Japanese-American to her parents. My grandma welcomed my soon-to-be uncle into the family. Her kindness had touched generations since. 

When my mom had to have surgery one November, my grandparents came up from Colorado to tend us. My grandma made Thanksgiving dinner for seven starving children and my dad while my mom was in the hospital or recuperating at home. 

That is just a few examples of the kind soul my grandma possessed in her life. Even her finals months I knew she cared; she was there to comfort my mom when my dad passed away suddenly on a February day. 

Dad's Birthday

It’s my dad’s 100^th birthday. Yes, you read that right, my dad made his big debut on July 29, 1917 in the San Luis Valley of southern Colorado. He has been gone for almost forty years. What I remember the most is the love that my dad had for his family. We were his #1 priority in his 62½ years.

My dad showed his love by his kindness. My younger brother shared one example of when I was posting memories together of my parents. While my brothers were being potty trained, my dad taught them to put the seat down after they were done. And the seat was usually down when I used the bathroom. My dad was just teaching my brothers respect for women. I struggled with math and I remember that my dad would sit me and help me with my homework. I appreciate the time my dad spent with me and for the unconditional love he gave to me and my siblings.

I still feel my dad’s comforting love that he has for me and the rest of his family (extended as well as immediate.) When I had a scan years ago, I felt my dad’s presence.  He has comforted me from time to time through the years. The latest being the day after Father's Day when I had another procedure. This past February, I got reminders to be kind and look for kindness; because my dad knew that was what I needed at the time. 
My dad’s legacy lives on.

Lessons From Heaven

My mom has been gone for almost five years, but I still feel her influence. She still worries about me and she definitely still loves me. I’m pretty sure that along with my dad, she is watching over me as much as she can. And she is still teaching me the lessons I need to learn.

I felt my mom’s concern a lot two years ago when I began seeing the doctors a bit more than I should. I remember right after my first surgical procedure as I was coming out of anesthesia, I saw in mind a younger mom; she had the same worried look on her face when I was brought into the recovery room at Holy Cross after my ear operation when I was 12. And my mom still worries. I’m convinced that Mom didn’t like me waiting at a cold dark bus stop in the morning. A member of my ward who happens to work at the University of Utah noticed me at the bus stop and at a work meeting for our division. My mom is someone who cares and worries about her children and I am glad that my neighbor listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

One lesson my mom has taught me in the last four years is about forgiveness. Mike has been delusional for some time and still thinks that Mom lives in Washington state. One Labor Day weekend, Jay and I were in Idaho visiting our brother. Mike supposedly spent the whole weekend writing a letter to our mom that we would deliver to her. Our brother was reluctant to let us return to our home and demanded that we stay until he finished the letter (which he hadn’t started).  On our way back to Utah, we stopped at the cemetery for one last visit with Mom. As I knelt by her grave, the thought came to me that my mom had forgiven Mike. Thanks to the promptings of the Holy Ghost I was able to forgive my brother for his weaknesses.   

Probably one of more tender lessons that my mom taught about forgiving was when I had my endoscopy ultrasound in December 2015. My mom had threaten me with ulcers when I was in junior high or high school  because she had them and so did her mom. Being a teenager, I probably gave her the stink eye. After the procedure was done, the doctor stopped in to explain what had happen while I being scoped. The nodule in my stomach was so small that he decided not to remove it. I could sense my mom breathing a sigh of relief. I felt as she had forgiven herself for threatening me.  And I found myself forgiving her for being a bossy mom. Once more without realizing it, I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

Maybe the lesson I’ve learned the most from my mom is recognizing the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. It also the lesson that taken me the longest to recognize. I don’t think I’ve ever asked to feel her presence when I needed it like I do with my dad. It was the Holy Ghost prompting me that my mom was at my side as I boarded the plane one September day. I was at the airport waiting my flight to arrive at the gate when I learned of my mom’s passing. I asked for my dad, but I couldn’t feel his presence. I got a bit ticked off at him because I had felt abandoned. It wasn’t until I had calmed down that I sensed my mom waiting in line with me.
I am grateful that for the lessons that my mom has taught me since her passing. And I am grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost. As Jesus taught in the Book of John, the Holy Ghost is indeed the comforter.

Retelling of the Other Wiseman

Last year, Jay and I had Christmas Eve dinner at a neighbor's. After dinner, they had a program like my family did on Christmas Eve. Their youngest son shared "The Night Before Christmas" like my brother, John would. Except John read the book while their son had it memorized. When Grandma read a story I was reminded of my mom reading "The Other Wiseman". So from memory I will tell the story. 

As we all know, there were many wisemen from the East, who anxiously seeking the signs of Christ's birth. There was another wiseman, Artaban, who planned to meet up with the other wisemen so they could meet with the Christ child together. Artaban had three jewels that he wanted to give the new born king. 

When Artaban saw the star, he saddle up his camel (or his horse) and set off. Along the way, he came across a traveler who had been robbed. Like a good Samaritan, he stopped and helped the man. Artaban gave the man rest his food meant for the trip. He use the sapphire to pay for food so he could continue his journey to meet with the other three wisemen. Artaban hurried on his way only to find that other wisemen had waited as long as they could and left without him. Artaban traveled alone to Bethlehem, but when he got there, he found out that Joseph and Mary had fled to Egypt with the baby Jesus. In his search for the departed Christ child, Artaban stopped at young mother's home. When the soldiers came to take her toddler away, Artaban gave the soldiers a ruby so that they would not search the home. As he gave away his second jewel, he felt remorse because that was his gift to Christ child.

Artaban left Jerusalem and headed for Egypt. He didn't find Jesus there and eventually he returned to Israel and searched for Jesus there. Artaban sought Jesus for the rest of his life, serving others in their time of need. Finally, he heard that Christ was to be crucified, so Artaban headed back to Jerusalem. On his way to Calvary, Artaban came across a young woman who was being sold into slavery to pay for her father's debts. Artaban took pity on her and gave his last jewel,the pearl to free the young woman from slavery. He immediately felt like he had betrayed Christ. Three times he had given away the gifts he wanted to give to Christ. 

But Christ appeared to Artaban in a vision when a brick from building hit him and quoted Matthew 25:40 - "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Remember

On September 11, 2001, I was at Cottonwood Mall in Holladay doing my usual morning walk before heading to work. As I passed through the food court, the TV was on. I didn't realized it was breaking news, even when a retiree said something to me. I got to my car and listened to my usual radio station, which was also reporting breaking news of the World Trade Center being attacked by airplanes. Later that morning I found out that another airplane flew into the Pentagon. The two towers in Manhattan fell, while the Pentagon had a gaping hole for all of Washington to see. Thousands of people of different nationalities and demographics died that day. Not only did the passengers and crews of the plane die, but people who worked in the buildings, firefighters and police who went to the rescue and probably those who were visiting the buildings. Later in the day, United 93 crashed in Pennsylvania as some brave and courageous passengers took a plane down that terrorists had gained control. It was rumored that the plane was headed toward the White House or Congress.

As I watched the news, I had a impression that I knew someone who perished in these attacks. I  had a cousin who flew for American Airlines, but he was on vacation that day. Still I had that nagging feeling that I knew someone. A day or two later, I found out that my niece, Tracie lost a dear friend in the attack on America. She met Eugene Whalen while she was nanny in New York. Tracie missed her family in Portland and when she came home, Eugene followed. But when the call came to fulfill his dream of being a New York firefighter, he returned home. Eugene's shift had just ended when the call came in to rescue those in the World Trade Center.
I learned that day that not all patriots are in the military. Some wear the uniform of a firefighter or a policeman. Eugene was one who gave his all as were those who were on Flight 93.

As firefighters and other volunteers were clearing and finding people who had perished at Ground Zero, some firemen found an American flag. They found a flag pole and stood it up again. Once more the flag was flying, but this time in the rubble of the World Trade Center. Hope was raising once more that America would heal and move forward.
In the picture, there is a young boy standing at the monument. His father (or mother), who may or may not be in the picture may have brought him to the healing fields. He is like most students in elementary and  middle school who were born after 9/11, so it is important to tell them about what happen 15 years ago when we as nation stood together. As we teach them, hopefully we will remember the courageous people who died to save others. Like Eugene, like Flight 93. And those who survived who saved others from perishing like the men in one of the towers who brought carried a woman in wheel chair down all those stairs and the firemen who flew the flag over Ground Zero.

A Summer Miracle

Twenty plus years ago, Mike quit his job and went on the road. He settled for a time in Henderson, Nevada. After Henderson, he visited with Steven's family in California for a week and supposedly headed north to visit my sisters, but he never got there. For weeks, we did not hear from Mike. I remember having a dream that Mike came home. I wasn't sure what to make of the dream. Shortly after the dream, my brother came home to live with Mom again. He never set foot off the property again, which is why my mom told her home teacher that her oldest son would probably leave the house in a body bag. In all that time, we continued to pray for Mike that his spirit would heal.

Weekend of July 4, 2015

"Be still and know that I am God." These words from Psalm 46:10 kept coming to me during the 4th of July weekend last year. I was with my sisters on the Oregon coast. And I found the words invading my thoughts as July progressed. Why now? I was pretty much back on my feet after a health scare I had a few months earlier. Maybe it was because of my possible food allergies and being scheduled for another procedure in August. Or maybe it was because Laura and her husband brought up the declining health of my oldest brother. As we discussed Mike's current situation, we discussed his need to be removed from the house in Idaho. Laura could tell he wasn't doing well. Either it was her own observation or the regular calls she got from Jay who would often go to Idaho to buy Mike groceries. 

But whatever the reason Psalm 46:10 kept popping into my thoughts, it was reminder to think positive, stay calm and have faith that all would be well as another storm approached.

August 9, 2015

I woke up my usual time and had my liquid breakfast. I told Jay that I would only go to Sacrament meeting since I was prepping for procedures the next morning. As we were listening to Music and the Spoken Word, a call came from Mary that we needed to get to Idaho as soon as possible. Apparently Jay got a scary text from Mike which sounded like he needed emergency care.  John who lives nearby came and picked up Jay and they headed for Idaho. Their mission was to convince Mike to go to the hospital. After they left, I got out one of new coloring books. After looking thru the book "Mantra Mandalas Coloring Pages - Circles of Healing" by Delaina Miller and Kristin Hatch, I selected one that read "All is Well". Before l started coloring I texted Mike to ask him what his favorite colors were. I had decided to color in his honor as I sought comfort. I also thought of my pioneer ancestors who had crossed the plains with the Willie and Martin Handcart Parties. Pioneer Day had been celebrated a few weeks earlier, so the sacrifices that any pioneer had made to come to the Salt Lake Valley was still on my mind. My great grandfather Philpot froze to death somewhere in Wyoming and later his wife passed away also, leaving his daughters, Julie and Martha, my great grandmother, to come to the Salt Lake by themselves. Ann Grimshaw Jackson, another great grandmother had heart problems, so she and her would walk each day as her older children would push the handcarts. Her son, Joseph passed away shortly after arriving in Utah. As I colored I realized that despite the hardships my an ancestors suffered, all had turned well.  I even remember twenty something years ago during Pioneer Weekend when the roof of my apartment building had collapsed and my brothers and I were evacuated. While we hunted for an apartment, my adopted family let us stay with them, even though their kitchen was being remodeled. Remembering these stories reminded me that my siblings and I were not alone and somehow things would be okay. All would be well. 

Later that night my brothers came home safe and sound from their quick trip to Idaho. Mike had decided against going to the hospital, even after Suzie, a RN and LaRue, a CNA begged him to go. But my brothers had both mention that his heart had been soften. Mike admitted his health was failing and that he would need care soon.

August 30-31, 2015

Mike had called earlier to ask Jay to come up to Idaho to move a case of bottled water. Jay wasn't able to drive the almost 200 miles, so he asked LaRue to help out. She went to the house on a Sunday morning, knocked on the door, but Mike couldn't answer the door. He was too weak to get up and she couldn't get in because the door was locked and none of the neighbor's had a key. (Mike strictly forbade any neighbor from having the key because of his delusions.) LaRue called Jay or Mary just after 9am. Jay called the home teachers for a blessing and before I knew it he was heading to Idaho solo. I may have been teaching Primary that Sunday and with school starting at the university I didn't go. Jay arrived safely and got Mike off the floor and on to the cot in the living room. The case of bottled water was moved and both brothers slept in the house that night.

The next morning, the ambulance came because Mike got worse during the night. My brothers stayed at the hospital for a few hours. In the afternoon hours, all my siblings except for Mike had a emergency family council by the way of a conference call. The attorney brought us up to date. Our youngest brother, Jay had been appointed temporally as guardian for our oldest brother, Mike, who was being transported to St. Marks in Utah so he could be closer to family. From the attorney I learned that a high school classmate, RoZan was a nurse was riding with Mike in the ambulance. Another classmate of mine, Jay suggested that Mike listen to Gordon Lightfoot during the long drive. Knowing that two of my former high school classmate were at the hospital in Idaho at the time was a tender mercy for me.

After the conference call, I headed to St. Marks to meet Mike. Jay stayed in Idaho to tie up a few loose ends. I caught the bus and got off at the all too familiar hospital.(I've had a few procedures there.) I went to the ER to wait but was directed to go to the waiting room on the second level, near where I had surgery a few months earlier. I sat near the window where I could look over the hospital entrance, but I never saw the ambulance pull up. While I was waiting, I noticed that one of my neighbors was performing a surgery. It was another tender mercy to know that he was there.  A man from the ER came up to tell me that Mike had arrived and when he was situated in his room, I would be able to visit him.Then I turned my attention toward the entrance of the Critical Care Unit. Not long after, I saw Mike on the stretcher as he was brought into the CCU. I was still waiting when John arrived a half hour later. We both walked to the CCU  and before long we saw Mike. Before we left, my neighbor stopped to talk to me. I choked up when he asked about Mike; how does one explain a 20 plus years nightmare ending as a unexpected miracle. 

After I got home from the hospital, my sister forwarded a text from LaRue. I was touched when I read ". . . Many miracles happened today. Your prayers were felt and answered in many ways. The doctor and the nurse did an amazing job; everything worked together like clockwork. . . The Lord worked trough many people today to make things happened. . . My prayers are with you all as many others here, it was an amazing day of miracles."

"Be still and know that I am God."  
Psalm 46:10