Lily's Stage Debut; Mommy's Backstage Debut

Well, it has been a loooong time since I have written on this blog, which is a shame because lots of things have been happening. Well, mostly one really big thing, which is in fact the reason I haven't written on this blog for so long. That thing is called Promised Valley, aka "the play". I have been heavily involved in our stake's 50th anniversary musical representation of the Mormon Pioneers' trek west. The musical was originally written to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the pioneers arriving in the Salt Lake Valley. It has been a lot of fun, and it literally took over my entire life for more than two months.

I auditioned for the play at the beginning of April, but because the director knew I might have to go to my mom's funeral sometime this summer, she put me in the chorus without a part for fear that I might be gone the week of the performances. Then soon after, I did have to go to Utah for the funeral, and was very glad to not have to worry about the play. But when I got back, I learned that the musical director for the play had been a complete disaster. She is a wonderful pianist, but apparently knows nothing about choral music and the practices were completely unproductive and frustrating. She was also too busy to commit, and after a few weeks simply backed out. So they used several different people temporarily to fill in, and by the time I got back, the overall music comprehension was in a terrible state. The director literally begged me to take over the music, and I reluctantly agreed.

Little did I know. Since I had been gone for three weeks, I knew less of the music than anyone in the chorus. At my first practice, before I had even had time to look over the music, at the director's request we dived headlong into the most difficult piece, and I was more than completely overwhelmed. It was SO DIFFICULT!! It would have been an interesting, but demanding, challenge to learn it myself. But to teach it to others was completely over my head! This piece literally changed time signatures multiple times on almost every one of 18 pages. It switched constantly from cut time to 4:4 to 3:4 to 2:4, so it was infuriating to count. The tempos changed multiple times, and all but the last two pages were so dissonant that just learning the melody line was difficult, let alone the harmonies. The accompaniment was also dissonant and lacked coherent melody, so entrances were incredibly hard, and there was intermittent dialogue that completely threw off the music if they didn't say the lines at exactly the right time.

So I practiced conducting at home, listened to the CD recording, and counted out rhythms for literally hours. We hammered out parts over and over and over during rehearsal, in additional to the many other difficult (but not as difficult) numbers we had to learn, and we eventually got them down. In fact, in the end, this terrible beast was our best number! It had the most choreography, was the most dramatically interesting, and sounded the best because we had practiced it so much. But all the numbers sounded really good, and it made me so proud of everyone's hard work. I have to say that I was completely humbled by the experience, but in the end it was so exhilarating to know that we had conquered it, and that I helped bring something about that seemed impossible at the beginning. It was so much fun, and I am sad that it's over.

But it's also a relief to be done. Lily's sleeping schedule was turned on its head. This is primarily because Lily was in the play with me. I wasn't planning on this, but I had to bring her a few times, and the director thought she was so cute that she wanted her in the performances. Lily LOVED being on stage. She learned many of the words to the songs and would try to sing along, she would help me pretend to gather firewood into a basket in the first scene, and she knew when to look sad. She knew exactly when to put her arms up at the end of a few numbers, and often did it before anyone else. Then she would clap enthusiastically. She enjoyed it so much that she cried when we were offstage because she wanted to go on. Almost everyone I talked to said she was their very favorite part of the play, and many mentioned how impressed they were at her stage presence. Every time I have seen the director since (she's in my ward, so that's often), she tells me about more people who have asked her about that "incredibly adorable little, little girl in the play who was their favorite part" and demanded to know why she wasn't in the program.

Here we are "Going West!"

She doesn't look that enthusiastic in these pictures. That's because Adam took them all at the first dress rehearsal when she was SUPER tired.

I guess it is unusual to see toddlers in plays, since they are so unpredictable. It was VERY stressful to have to with me, since I never knew if she was going to suddenly bolt off the edge of the stage, or run behind another cast member and get stepped on, have a diaper explosion onstage, or throw an unexpected tantrum. But none of those things ever happened, although I had to bribe her a number of times with fruit snacks during various parts of the production.

In our Winter Quarters costumes, playing in the nursery room between scenes.

So it is nice to have my life back. I am trying to get caught up on all the stuff that got completely neglected during the month of having 6 rehearsals per week. Lily misses it profoundly though. She still asks me to "go west" and begs to go to play practice. She has been singing vigorously every day since the play ended, and it's funny because she belts it out so loud. One day she sang at the top of her lungs (mostly gibberish with random words mixed in about mommy, daddy, swimming, cookies, kitties, going west, and other phrases from the play) for more than 20 minutes continuously while we were outside on a walk. People on their front porches kept looking around trying to see where that noise was coming from, and they laughed when they realized it was emanating from the 1 1/2-year-old in my stroller. I got a little snippet of one morning serenade on video:

Videos of Lily + Moving

Here are some funny videos of Lily.

Otherwise, our lives just got really crazy because we will be moving in a few weeks. I can't really say that I am excited to move. I love our apartment now, and where we are moving will be smaller and doesn't have a dishwasher. Did I ever mention that I HATE washing dishes? Well I hate washing dishes. But it will save us about $170 per month, which at this point is significant. There is also a playground right outside our door, and lots of families with little kids for Lily to play with. I know she will love it. It will probably be better for me too, since where we are now, there are mostly single students and I have never met another stay-at-home mom. That gets lonely during the day. And I won't have to carry Lily plus laundry/groceries/stroller up and down a flight of dangerous cement stairs anymore - hallelujah! 

So there will be good things, and it just feels right. But in the mean time, it means we have to pack up all our stuff which will be time consuming, to say the least. So, I guess it's adios to all those goals I made about getting things done this month, like training for a 5k and planting a garden. So long, goals! I will be packing boxes instead.

Domestic Goodies!

I started this post ages ago, but never finished it. Here are some of the cooking and sewing projects I have done recently (meaning in the past 6 months) to keep myself from going crazy!

Here is a farewell cake I made for my cousin Michael when he left on his mission to the Ukraine, hence the colors of the Ukranian flag. It's not the fanciest cake in the world, but it was an accomplishment for yours truly, since I have no experience with cake decorating whatsoever.

This was my Valentine's gift for Adam: a giant chocolate kiss, made of chocolate rice krispies with M&Ms. 

This is the Chocolate Turtle Cheesecake, which I made for Adam's birthday. It was soooo good!

And this is one of Adam's gifts, a remote control holder, which I made for his birthday. I have never sewn anything "remotely" like that before (haha), so I'm glad it turned out okay. :) Tutorial found here: http://www.sew4home.com/projects/storage-solutions/spring-clean-tidy-week-sofa-caddy.

My friend's baby was turning one, so I made him a toy and a reversible bib in honor of the occasion (I found the pattern for the bib on this website: http://www.craftinessisnotoptional.com/2011/05/bapron-tutorial.html)

I enjoyed making the baby bib so much that I made several more for baby gifts.

These are opposite sides of two matching bibs that I made for Lily and for her (self-proclaimed) best friend, a little girl in our ward who is about 5 months younger than Lily.

Well, I never would have guessed it, but I suppose I have gone and gotten "crafty." I don't know if I am going crazy or what, but I honestly hated doing crafts when I was younger. They just seemed like such a waste of time. Does it say something about my life that I am doing them now, and actually enjoying it? No, I am not less busy. I guess I just have fewer outlets for creativity now that I stay at home all day. A girl's gotta do somethin! As my mom would have said, I'm just practicing Alzheimer's prevention. :)

Grief and Comfort

It's been three weeks since I lost my mom. I haven't been avoiding writing out of distress, I have just been too busy to sit down and record my thoughts. The last three weeks certainly have not been easy. My grandma called me on Thursday, April 11 to tell me that my mom was really struggling and I needed to come out as soon as possible. So Lily and I flew out as soon as we could get to the airport, said goodbye to her the following day, and on Saturday she was gone.

Honestly, the following two weeks are a blur. I planned most of the funeral myself, since my dad was hammering out tax returns for the deadline and all my siblings were finishing their finals exams. My sister and my grandma helped, and my dad had to make a number of decisions. But I definitely kept myself completely busy with planning. I thought it would be awful, but it kept my mind off how sad I felt. And it also felt good to be able to plan everything to be just the way my mom wanted.

After the funeral, which was absolutely beautiful, I spent the following week sorting through my mom's things and dejunking/cleaning my parents' house. For the past four months, my mom had been too sick to do any housekeeping, so it was badly needed. That was also a nice distraction and it felt good to be helping my dad.  Somehow throwing stuff away is therapeutic for me sometimes. It kind of feels like getting rid of baggage from your past. Even though most of this wasn't from my past, I think I convinced myself that the less junk he had to get rid of himself, the less loss he would have to experience. That probably isn't true, but it was a good way to channel my grief.

The most prominent feeling I have had since getting back home to Oregon last Tuesday is that it just feels unreal and strange. In Utah, it was so obvious that she was gone. My whole family was there for an entire week, and she was clearly absent. Since arriving here, my life is exactly the same as it was. It feels like her death should have made more of an impact on my day-to-day existence, but apart from the glaring hole in my heart, nothing has changed. I still have to deal with Lily's pesky little "biting mommy and daddy" problem, I still have to do laundry, and plan upcoming ward choir numbers, and try to actually do some visiting teaching, and make grocery lists and go grocery shopping, and take Lily outside at least twice a day, and make dinner, and try to write about how I feel in my journal and catch up on blogging, and fit in some time for scripture study and exercising, and learn the music I have to teach the chorus at our next stake play practice.

Okay, I just feel overwhelmed. It seems like I have more to do than ever, but now I can't call my mom and talk to her about it when it feels too hard. There was one day this week when I couldn't get out of bed. I just felt depressed and I couldn't make myself get up for an hour and a half after Adam got up with Lily. I just lay in bed and let Lily destroy the room around me, grateful for her diversion. More than once that morning, my automatic response to the feeling of overwhelming sadness was "I just need to call my mom." And then, of course, after a split second, I would remind myself that that is the point of my sadness: I can't call her.

There is just something about talking to your mom that can't be replaced. I suppose some of it was because she was such an amazing, empathetic listener, and so very smart. She didn't speak idly, and when she did speak, it was always something so insightful and intelligent. I know there were many other people who loved talking to her (even besides her clients), but I think most of it is just that she was my mom. I miss saying the word "mom." I never appreciated what a privilege it was to speak that word before. The thought of not being able to have a real conversation with her for probably the next 50 years sometimes feels like more than I can deal with. Often, when a wave of grief hits me, I find myself running away from it and searching for anything to distract myself. I should try not to do that because it's probably not healthy. But it's a little scary to feel that much pain, even if I know it usually only lasts a little while.

As always, the gospel makes it possible to go on. It's incredible that I can feel so much hope and gratitude in the middle of so much grief. I honestly feel joyful to know that she is done with her test, and I know she passed with flying colors. She is happy and with her dad again, and she feels no more pain or fear! I am excited for her! And even for the rest of us who are left to face mortality, the knowledge that we will be with her again changes our situation from a permanently hopeless and devastating loss to a difficult, but temporary, separation. In fact, I have felt her presence just enough that I know I can talk to her whenever I really need to. I know she is listening, and I know she isn't really gone. I just can't see her. It isn't the same, and it still hurts terribly. But the person I know and love is still there, she has just graduated from this life. Without that knowledge, I would not be able to deal with this.

I have felt so comforted. I know she was ready to go. She was happy and at peace. It has also been touching to see how many people care about my mom, and about me. In fact, I have been surprised at how comforting it when people tell me how sorry they are, or that they have lost a parent as well and they know how hard it is. I don't think we are meant to go through things like this alone.

But most of all, as I look back over the past three weeks, I see the Lord carrying me. He has truly gotten me through this. I haven't fallen apart the way I thought I would. Of course I have my moments and hours of falling apart, but I'm still here and still breathing. For the most part, I am still even functioning, and I know it is only because of His sustaining power. Without it, I would be a hopelessly miserable mess. But He never lets me down. He didn't answer my prayers the way I wanted this time, but I know it is in His hands. I know the Lord is taking care of my mom, and I know He will take care of me. He will never leave us comfortless, but will come to us. Somehow, this plan is better than mine. I don't know why this needed to happen, but I know that God understands much better than I do, and I will still trust Him. After those next 50 or however many years, it will all seem but a small moment, and because of the sorrow I experienced, my joy will be more complete when I can be with her again.

Springtime for Lily in Oregon

Spring is here! No, we're not going to dance and sing about it (although that is something I could probably see myself  doing), but I am going to post some pictures. Lily loves the spring weather! We spend hours outside every day, which is so fun, although it means I don't get much of anything else done, haha. Sound familiar, moms?

Lily is a basket of glee and enthusiasm. She ADORES other children, even to the extent that she willingly shares her toys and food with them because she is so glad for their company. Yesterday, I happened to mention a certain one of Lily's friends--Jacquelyn, a little girl who is 12 months old--and Lily threw a sobbing tantrum and pushed herself backwards on her tummy all the way across the kitchen floor when I told her we couldn't visit Jacquelyn that day. She lives for nursery, even though she is technically not old enough to go. So I stay with her, but she ignores me the whole time and would not even notice if I left.

She is still fascinated by basketball, birds, cats, and dogs, and recently has taken a great interest in bugs and cars. "Bruuum bruum" she says seriously as she points, every time we see a car, which is almost constantly whenever we go outside. She has a friend spider that she looks at every time we pass the neighboring apartment's front window, and Lily always excitedly does the actions to "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." She also does the actions to "Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree" when she wants me to make popcorn, which is often (although I refuse to make it before breakfast).

For Easter, we showed Lily a couple of the church's Bible videos about Christ, and explained what He did during His life and resurrection. She was particularly excited when, during the sermon on the mount, Jesus told the parable of the wise man and the foolish man. She recognized the words from the primary song, which we sing at home and in nursery, and started doing the actions. She wanted to watch it over and over, and signed "Jesus" and pointed to the computer several times a day every since. In fact, sometimes she throws tantrums when we don't let her watch it. I honestly don't know if I should be happy or chagrined at this development. I know it's not recommended to let toddlers have any screen time before age 2, and she already wants to watch it too much. But at the same time, she is watching a video about Christ! If there is anything I want her to be excited about, it's Jesus. :)

Lily is also into clothes. "Isn't that a bit early?" you say. I would think so too, since she's not even old enough to be in nursery by herself yet. But she has definite opinions. If I ever dress her without asking her opinion first, she will soon bring me the clothes she wants to wear instead, and she gets quite upset if I don't change her clothes. She loves outfits with animals, flowers, butterflies, stripes, bright colors, or some for no apparent reason. She got so excited about some new Winnie-the-Pooh shoes that she just stood bend over, excitedly touching her shoes for several minutes and wouldn't walk anywhere. She sometimes wants to change her clothes multiple times per day, and will try to put on articles of clothing herself by draping them around her neck or putting them on her head. This is not limited to her clothes. She even tugs on the clothes in my closet until she pulls them off the hangers and can "dress" herself in them. And of course she tries on my shoes. She's such a girl!

Other news: Adam is starting his therapy practice! He has an office, a supervisor, and even a potential client. Seeing as we have been here for a year and a half, this is pretty exciting news to me. Adam is always happier when he's doing therapy, and I am always happier when we're not living on borrowed money. I haven't been up to anything really exciting, although I have started running again regularly. It is harder, since I have to push Lily in the stroller, but I am doing it! I think I will run a 5k next month - the first I have done in years. It would be fun to do a triathlon or something like that, but I don't think swimming or biking are realistic at the moment, since I don't have a bike trailer for Lily and I can't really justify buying a membership to a pool. But running alone is fun.

That's probably all the interesting stuff, so here's some more pictures.

Happy spring! Hope you are enjoying the April showers, or at least some good ol' April puddle-jumping.

A Lesson on Trials

This post probably isn't what you think. Since my mom has been battling with possibly terminal cancer, it would seem likely that this post would be about how hard things have been knowing that she could pass away. This is not that. That was the last post. It was very sad that day, when we were all sure that my mom was going to die, and thought that her last hope for treatment hadn't worked. It turned out that wasn't entirely true; she didn't come back from the cancer clinic in Mexico because they were giving up; they came back because they didn't have the resources to deal with a certain problem she was having, so they gave her some special low-dose chemo drugs and sent her back to the U.S.

The other good news is that since then, she has been to the Huntsman Cancer Clinic in SLC and got a new doctor, and all her blood tests are improving and the chemo drugs seem to be working really well. She got a treatment that allows her to breathe again and is functioning much better and may very well continue to improve. Although her situation is still serious, I consider this a miracle. I said before that I had complete faith that the Lord could still heal her, I just didn't think it very likely that He would. It looks like He is doing that, at least for the moment.

And I am so very, very completely, totally grateful. I feel blessed beyond words or expression. Maybe we just needed to be tested to the very limit to see if we would still have faith when it looked pretty sure that our prayers wouldn't be answered. I don't know. Maybe we will still lose her, but for the moment I am filled with gratitude.

But that is not what I really wanted to write about in this post. Last week was one of the saddest weeks I have ever had, contemplating saying goodbye to my mom and spending the rest of my life without her. BUT I knew exactly what to do when that storm hit. I felt like the rains came pouring down, and I thought to myself, "I have learned in seminary and Sunday school and from the scriptures and prophets that when a really hard trial comes, I should pray and turn to the Lord for comfort, and I will find His guidance and reassurance through the scriptures and the Holy Spirit." So that's what I did, and that's what happened. He was there for me, and though it didn't make me feel happy, I knew I could get through this trial no matter what. I felt comforted and strengthened, even though I was still very, very sad.

But this week has not been like that. This week has not been near as sad, but in some ways harder. It is difficult to explain why. I have been extremely lonely, which usually makes me feel depressed. I weaned Lily last weekend, which went surprisingly well, but she has had a terrible time going to sleep since then. So she stays up really late and I don't end up spending any time with Adam. She has also been waking up really early, so I don't get enough sleep and am really tired (which makes everything worse). And I have just been feeling really, really lonely. I have friends here in Corvallis, but they are busy with their own kids, jobs, families,etc, so Lily and I end up spending most of our time by ourselves. In the end, I am not sure why it's been so bad, but I have felt extremely lonely this week and it has been really hard.

It's not the end of the world. But at certain moments, I have really struggled to know what to do about it. For example, I sang in an Easter cantata yesterday with a very good stake choir, and I was really excited about the music. But no one came to see me in it. There were a few people I knew in the audience, but none of them came to see me. Adam tried to come with Lily, but she was really tired and threw a tantrum during the first number, so he had to take her out and heard hardly any of it. I didn't realize how hard it would be on me until afterwards, when I didn't have anyone to talk to. I just wanted to be able to ask one person, "So did you hear the Hosanna number? Did you like it? It was really difficult and wonderful and I was so excited that we nailed it spot on. And what about the cool gothic-like number in the middle with the awesome loud organ?" But there was no one to ask.

It just made it all the more obvious to me that I am fairly alone out here. Now, really, it shouldn't have been a big deal. Nobody came to my concert, boo-hoo. It's not like I even had a solo or anything special. But it brought to the forefront of my mind how alone I feel here, and I couldn't figure out how to overcome that feeling, which I have been fighting all week.

So, to the point of this post. I guess I realized today that sometimes the less hard trials are actually the most challenging to learn from and face with courage. When I am sitting at home feeling lonely and inadequate and depressed, I don't automatically think, "Wow, I am in the middle of the difficult trial of being at home with my daughter today, so I should pray for help from the Lord and I have complete faith that He will strengthen me." Of course, that is exactly what I should do, but it's somehow not as obvious. I am often more likely to think something along the lines of, "Why am I so depressed today? It's not like my life is that bad. I have a beautiful daughter and a wonderful husband whom I love and who love me. I have the gospel and a home to live in. I have no right to feel depressed today. There are people out there with real trials, like dying from cancer, or their spouses leaving them, or who have no food to eat. I should just be grateful I don't have any of those trials." And of course I just beat myself up over that and feel worse and it doesn't help at all.

Don't get me wrong, I do pray for help and strength in these times, but I don't think it's with the same kind of faith. In the depth of my sorrow last week, I knew what to say: "Please let my mom be healed, but if not, I will still have faith in your plan, and I know that whatever happens is Thy will." I was heartbroken at the thought of losing her, but I knew without a doubt that God would never leave me alone in dealing with something of that magnitude. When it's something like feeling depressed, or disappointed, or inadequate, sometimes I don't even know what to say. In fact, sometimes I even feel like prefacing my prayers with, "Please forgive me for being so unhappy about this when it really shouldn't be a big deal."

Now, please don't think I am saying that my little trial of being lonely sometimes is actually harder than losing a loved one, or any number of other super hard trials that many have gone through. But sometimes it is harder for me to know how to face smaller trials or how to learn from them. Does that sound like the pride cycle? We don't remember that we need the Lord until He gives us something really, really difficult and then we suddenly remember that we can't do it alone. I don't think someone who is "cursed" with riches and fame would easily remember to get on their knees daily to beg and plead with the Lord to help them get through one day of worldly comfort without pride. Although that kind of trial certainly doesn't feel harder, it may ultimately be harder to learn from. If the point of this life is to learn and grow, then perhaps those are the hardest trials.

Maybe it's like preparing for a licensing exam. You could take several really, really hard classes in college and know without a doubt that if you passed those, you would pass the exam. Alternatively, you could take the easiest classes possible and then study on your own for the exam, but you would have to be entirely self-motivated, with no sure way to tell if you are ready or not. In that way, the self-study option almost seems harder even though in the moment it certainly doesn't feel harder.

I am not saying that I would rather go through really hard trials than the ones I am experiencing. Maybe I just need to acknowledge on a more regular basis that the hard things I experience regularly are legitimate, and that I truly do need the Lord every hour, even if it's just to get through spending the afternoon by myself.

The Unexpected

I never thought this blog would be a vehicle to explore death, but I guess that's what it is. I am not really writing this because I care if anyone else reads it, I just need to write how I feel and writing in my journal would take too long. 

My mom is not doing well. I have complete faith that if the Lord still wants to heal her, He is just as capable now as he was a year ago. But it doesn't seem likely at this point. I have been so hopeful. She has received blessings stating that she would recover, and I fully believed them, although I also knew there was a possibility that she wouldn't. When Oliver Cowdery tried unsuccessfully to translate a part of the Book of Mormon, there is a passage in the Doctrine and Covenants that explains that it was expedient for him to translate before, but it is not now. Perhaps it was expedient for my mom to recover before, but it's not now. I don't feel angry or betrayed. I don't feel that the Lord has let me down. I just feel sad. Granted, she is still here, so maybe I will feel all those things in the future. But it's strange to think that this is happening to my family. I just never thought it would. I guess that's how life goes. You never think your house will burn down or your child will get addicted to heroine or your spouse will get Alzheimer's. I just never thought my mom would die of cancer.

I have thought, as I watched people I know suffer through the loss of loved ones, that I could never do that. It just sounded impossible. I have never lost someone close to me, and I have been terrified of what it would feel like. Strangely, I am not as devastated and terrified as I expected to be. Although that's typical of me; I generally think everything is going to be worse than it is (except giving birth--that was one a little harder than I anticipated, haha. :) I have felt so much peace for the last 6 months. I thought it was probably reassurance that she would recover. But I guess it was probably reassurance that this is the Lord's will. How can I be upset about that? He knows what I need to learn, and what everyone in my family needs to learn. Just the fact that He can give me this much peace at a time when such a hard thing is happening has strengthened my faith and helped me to see that He really is in control! He really can carry us through the hardest times. He really is all-powerful and all-knowing. I wouldn't want Him to deprive me of the opportunity to experience the growth I need to become worthy of inheriting all that He has.

But . . . I'm just going to miss her so much. She didn't make it in time for Lily's birth. I just assumed it was fine, and we would make sure she got there earlier next time. Now there probably won't be a next time (not that I won't have any more kids, just that she won't be able to come, physically). I'm so glad she got to become a grandma, but Lily won't remember her. She probably won't be there for my brother's wedding. There are so many things we still want to do together. She never got to go to Europe or take a whitewater trip down the Colorado. We were going to go kayaking in the Puget Sound this summer and take Lily on her first mini backpacking trip. She has so many ways she still wants to help people. She has so much cutting-edge knowledge about trauma therapy and how to help people using integrated techniques from many different fields. That will all be lost. I just feel like she has helped so many people and nobody can help her.

She is #3 on my speed dial, after voicemail and Adam. Who am I supposed to put in that spot? If I move everyone around, I will never remember which person goes where, but if I leave 3 empty forever, it will remind me every time I press the 3 button that she's not there to answer her phone anymore. Who am I going to call for advice about my kids? Well, I guess I can call Adam's mom. She's really great. But she's not my mom. She's not the person who sacrificed so much, probably more than almost anyone knows, for my family. She's not the one in all my memories and photographs. Will I ever be able to look at those pictures without being sad that she's gone?

And of course we will have to figure out how to plan a funeral, which sounds completely awful. It's like planning a wedding, except everybody is sad instead of happy, and you have to do it in like three days, and there are no expos or magazines or newlywed friends to give you advice, and you have to do it in the middle of experiencing one of the hardest trials of your life. Planning a wedding was stressful enough; this sounds just horrid. And of course now I am going to be the person that no one knows how to talk to, because what can you possibly say? "I'm sorry" just doesn't feel like enough, and you can't really do anything to make it better. I have totally been there before. So I am probably just going to feel bad for all the people who feel bad for me and also awkward because they don't know what to say. I'm sure I will appreciate their concern anyway. But then, I am going to be there too, because what am I supposed to say? What should I say to my dad who is facing the rest of his life alone or with someone else? He is only 51. That used to sounds kind of old to me. It is not even close to old. I want more than anything to be there for him and help him somehow, but I can't make it hurt any less. And I can't say that I understand what he's going through because I am not the one who might lose my spouse.

 I was listening to a devotional speech by Elder Maxwell (I really miss him) the other day, and I found what he had to say so profound:

God loves us and, loving us, has placed us here to cope with challenges which he will place before us. I'm not sure we can always understand the implications of his love, because his love will call us at times to do things we may wonder about, and we may be confronted with circumstances we would rather not face. I believe with all my heart that because God loves us there are some particularized challenges that he will deliver to each of us. He will customize the curriculum for each of us in order to teach us the things we most need to know. He will set before us in life what we need, not always what we like. He knows the kind of remodeling in your life and in mine that he wishes to achieve. Now, this will require us to believe in that divine design and at times to accept the truth which came to Joseph Smith wherein he was reminded that his suffering would be “but a small moment” (D&C 121:7).  

Let me remind you [of what we] say in the Church: that life is a school, a testing ground. What we don't accept are the implications of that true teaching—at least as fully as we should. One of the implications is that the tests that we face are real. They are not going to be things we can do with one hand tied behind our backs. They are real enough that if we meet them we shall know that we have felt them, because we will feel them deeply and keenly and pervasively. 

 So I guess I am learning about what it's like to go through a trial. Not that I haven't experienced them before. But I have thought many times that my life has probably been too easy, and I was due for something really hard. I was really afraid of what it might be. It's funny that now that it's here, I am not afraid. But things will definitely be hard. I guess if I don't have my mom, I will just have to rely on the Lord more than ever before. That's not a bad thing. Maybe that's what I am supposed to learn.