A good find

I've been going through documents on our computer lately and came across this talk Jake wrote some months after being diagnosed with GBM. I love reading his words. There is something about written language that helps to convey the essence of a person- their ideas, though processes and personality in such a beautiful way. I love every treasure I find that Jake wrote down and feel grateful that there is more than I thought there would be. He wasn't a prolific writer, but he was sure a good one when the opportunity presented itself.

So without further ado here is Jake's talk. 

"Last October, the prophet encouraged us to “ponder the path of our feet.” Where are we going? Who are we following?

We lived with God as Spirits before we came to the earth. We chose to come here. We wanted to be here because we knew that we would get experience that we could only get while separated from our heavenly parents. We learn from the book of Abraham that we came here so that we could prove ourselves, “to see if [we would] do all the things whatsoever the Lord [our] God shall command [us].”  We must walk as the Savior walked.

As I’m sure you all know, this past year has been a trying one for me and my family. I want to briefly share two things I’ve learned as I’ve battled grade four brain cancer.

First, After the Darkest Night, the Sun Always Rises

One year ago this morning, Jordan called Bishop Smart before the sun came up. This is the kind of wake up call a bishop doesn’t want but often gets. She told him that she’d picked me up from work the afternoon before b/c I thought I might be having a stroke. Faintness and right sided numbness. After a stop at urgent care, I ended up in the emergency room.

In the emergency room, among the many tests, they decided to do an MRI of my head. They found a small mass deep inside my brain. They didn’t know exactly what it was, so they decided to admit me overnight to observe and do more tests first thing in the morning.

Due to logistical problems created by an unplanned emergency and 4 young kids, including a nursing baby, I ended up that night in the hospital alone googling words like “high grade astrocytoma” and “demylenating.” I was supposed to be sleeping. I was beyond exhausted and had just worked a very long week. 

Darkness and dark thoughts set in as I thought about dying or becoming permanently disabled. I tried sleeping but just cried and cried. I was desperately tired. I was relieved when Jordan called around 2 or 3 because she couldn’t sleep either. We wept together as we discussed our children and what could happen to me. More than anything else I wanted to be with Jordan. Hold her. Wipe away her tears. Let her wipe away my tears.

President Monson reminded us: “Jesus walked the path of pain. Consider Gethsemane, where He was “in an agony … and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”  And none can forget His suffering on the cruel cross. . . . Likewise shall we walk the path of pain. We, as servants, can expect no more than the Master, who left mortality only after great pain and suffering.”

But the Savior’s pain and suffering was not eternal.  Three days after he passed away, he was gloriously resurrected. Nor is our suffering eternal. In my case, after the darkest night of my life, two men armed with the priesthood came to be with me. I can still remember the sunlight creeping through the hospital room window that morning and Bishop Smart and Brother Case appeared in their suits, full of compassion and love for me and my family. They had already been by the house and given Jordan a much needed blessing of comfort that I couldn’t give. I don’t remember what was said.  The only thing I remember is that once the priesthood was there, the darkness that I felt throughout the night started to leave. Just like the Lord reminded Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail, “thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment.” 

The sun always rises after a dark night.

Second, We Have Only One Thing to Learn Here on Earth — To Submit Completely to Heavenly Father

The Lord has blessed us with a lot of stuff. We have families. We have food. We have clothing. We have shelter. We have a wonderful meetinghouse. We have bank accounts. We have jobs. We have bodies. We have friends. All these things, however, we can lose in an instant. 

But there is one thing that God nor anyone else can ever take from us — our free will. We always have a choice as to how we will respond to a challenge or even a blessing. I think submitting my will to God’s will might be the biggest thing I’ve had to learn and relearn over the past year.

One example is after my tumor came back in early August. It was really the first bad news in a long time. From my initial overnight hospital stay to the biopsy in February there was nothing but worst case scenario. It might be an autoimmune disease like MS or it might be a high grade rapidly enhancing brain tumor. Bad news. While we were waiting for the biopsy, the tumor quadrupled in size. Bad news. The surgeon who did the biopsy doesn’t feel like he could safely remove it. Bad news. After we found a surgeon who could take the tumor out, it was nothing but good news. They got the tumor out. Good news. I regained my full faculties after the surgery. Good news. I had a wonderful first scan. Good news. I was back to work and had been rebuilding my case load. I’d just travelled to San Diego to meet a prospective client. Good news.  Our family took a trip to Hawaii. Good news. 

Naturally, I expected the good news train to keep rolling. But it wasn’t to be. I was back under the saw and knife of the operating room in a few days after the August scan showed new tumor growth.

I was sorely disappointed at this setback and decided that part of the reason why it came back was because I was pushing myself too hard.  So, I decided that I would totally check out after I came back from the hospital. I did nothing helpful and just let Jordan do everything. Meals in bed, check. Kids bedtime, check. I withdrew from my family. By the end of the week, I felt horrible. Jordan and the kids were at their wit’s end. I think she felt guilty for feeling that way. As I prepared my Sunday School lesson, I got a prompting that I needed to serve my family. So I woke up early on Sunday and made waffles for everyone and brought Jordan breakfast in bed with a note of appreciation. The feeling in our home changed instantly. Feelings of love and overwhelming joy vanquished the stress and sorrow.

That was a big lesson to me that self-pity and self-indulgence drive away the Spirit while service and love bring the Spirit instantly. As President Monson taught: “As we strive to place Christ at the center of our lives by learning His words, by following His teachings, and by walking in His path, He has promised to share with us the eternal life that He died to gain. There is no higher end than this, that we should choose to accept His discipline and become His disciples and do His work throughout our lives. Nothing else, no other choice we make, can make of us what He can.”

We’ve been first-hand witnesses the Spirit of love and service in this ward and from our friends and family members. Words are impossible to express how much we love all of you and how grateful we are for all that you’ve done for us. I know that God lives and loves us."

April

As usual there is much I want to say but little time and energy to say it.

We made it through the month of April.

The spring generally can be a difficult time for me. There are so many memories of Jacob- his birthday, his many surgeries, and his death that occurred during the springtime. Easter and general conference also bring these memories to the surface and it can be a hard month.

Thankfully I know that now. I know that the month of April is emotional and I can better plan for the ups and downs. They are not exactly predictable and I am still caught off guard by how painful the waves of grief can be but I am not a stranger to them anymore. And I know that they will not last forever.

I was introduced to the ball and box analogy of grief that I found very true and applicable. You can find it here. I do think that my ball has shrunk down so much in size and mostly bangs around the box unhindered. But occasionally it still hits the button and the pain comes roaring back with the same searing intensity and gutting predictability. I had a few painful days this month, but honestly I can say that it was better than the last two years. Although I could not believe it (and kind of hated it when people would say it to me) time really does heal. Years of time DO make a difference.

We had some very happy times. April 4 would have been Jake's 40th birthday and I could not let the day pass without doing something. I LOVE his birthday. I am so glad and grateful that Jacob was born and came into the world. I always will be.

Jake had often told me that he would love to get a BMW for his 40th birthday. And I often shot him down telling him that we couldn't afford such a car and that it was impractical.

As I was bemoaning the fact that he would never get his beemer to a friend she gave me a great idea- she told me to rent a BMW and drive it around all day on his birthday.

So that is just what I did. We found a BMW to rent for the day and I kept it a surprise for the kids. I told them we'd be doing someting Jake had talked about for his 40th birthday but kept them guessing as we drove to Salt Lake that morning for the surprise. We got out of our van and got into the BMW and drove it around for the next 10 hours.

It was amazing!

I am no car person. I always felt like if something has four wheels it is good enough. But after spending the day in that car I am converted to the wonder of a fine vehicle.

We drove 240 miles in one day. We stopped and gave rides to our family members in town- my dad, my mom, my sister and her kids, Jacob's parents, our sister-in-law and her kids. Jacob's brother took it for a spin that night. It was so so fun.

Riding in that car was a true joy and helped the kids and I feel and remember our love for Jake.

We also had a small BBQ party with our family members and some dear friends in our ward. We ate dinner and played games and sang happy birthday while Ada and Tommy blew out candles on a sheet of BYU brownies. It was a happy thing to celebrate Jake's birth and be together. Although my littlest kids may not have their own memories of Jake I am grateful that they can create have new memories of celebrating his birthday that can still help them feel connected to him.

Then came April 23. 3 years since the day Jake died. I'm not going to lie. It was kind of a crappy and horrible day. For all I try and talk myself out of giving much space or attention to his death date it is still pretty painful as the reality that he is gone- and has been now for 3 years- comes crashing down on me.

3 years feels like a really long time.

And I think I start to ache as I propel it into the future.  3 years becoming 13. And then 30. And then 53. It can kind of feel like forever.

Thankfully I was not left alone in my sorrow. People came to my aid- remembering. Calling and texting me messages. Bringing flowers. Hugging me. Listening as I cried. And I got through it. My greatest happiness came when the girls came home from school and saw me tear faced and asked what was wrong. As I told them it was the day Jake died 3 years ago they all said- "Oh yea, I forgot" and I was so grateful. April 23 does not need to be a horrible day for the rest of our kids lives. They ache for him plenty- on days that are meaningful to them. Their birthdays, at their sporting events, when the daddy-daughter son campout is announced. They don't need to have another heavy handed mourning day placed on their already sensitive hearts.

Then on April 24 I spent the day in the temple.

It was a balm to soothe and bind up and restore my fragmented heart. That is Christ's transcendent power offered to us through covenants made in the house of the Lord- the miraculous exchange of sorrow and heartache for peace and joy.

I was joined by wonderful friends and family members as we spent 7 hours doing the temple ordinances in sequence- from baptism to sealings. And I was grateful for other family members far away who participated in temple work at times that suited them best.

There was such a comforting peace as I saw again how the ordinances and covenants work together- literally lifting us from our present state and preparing us for the joy that awaits us in the presence of God. 

And I was also comforted to know that we were doing work in behalf of those who are dead.

Work that they, without physical bodies, cannot do for themselves. My mind was pacified as I heard again and again the phrase who is dead and recognized that I am certainly not the first, and definitely not the last person to lose someone who they love. To mourn and ache during this separation period. I am not so special or unique.

But rather I felt empowered and comforted to know that death has been part of the human story since the beginning. Death is a reality for everyone. And as Paul stated "for since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead" I was again assured of the truth that for Jacob- and for every person whose work we did in the temple that day- and for every person who has ever died- the resurrection is a reality. They will ALL live again. They will have opportunities to progress. They will be empowered through covenant. They will, as Job testified, in their flesh see God.

And that is the greatest miracle of all.