Change of heart

I have always been concerned with sincerity. I learned at an early age what "hypocrisy" means and have tried hard to avoid it. In the scriptures there are references to "not giving a gift grudgingly" because it doesn't mean anything, or doing things (like "praying as the Sadduccees and Pharisees") just for the show, or not being "fully converted"- all things that refer to ways of doing things because it's genuinely from your heart rather than "aspiring to the honors of men". Here in Arizona, in the nursing home where my mother is staying, there are lots of people that are at a point in their life when they are confined, unable to do what they want when they want or how they want. None of us are at our best when we don't feel totally in control- when we're sick, or really tired, or incapacitated in any way. Some people who may seem like just regular, pleasant people, are terrors as patients. There is a man in the nursing home here who is clearly not long for this world. Yet, when you touch his hand and speak to him to wake him, he is immediately smiling and sweet. It always amazes me that he reacts so immediately in such a pleasant way. It makes me think about the Savior's admonitions to not just claim to follow Him but to have a true "change of heart". That means you aren't just wanting or hoping to be like the Savior. You deeply and sincerely change your basic personality. It takes time and consistent effort. But it is always nice to be in the presence of someone who has succeeded, even just most of the time, in being Christlike- patient, forgiving, understanding, helpful (to whatever extent possible at the time), and kind. That is my goal. I'm working on it.

I just need to get it off my chest!

Although I am a fairly rapid reader, I have been slowly reading a book while taking care of my parents. I am reading it slowly because I can only handle it emotionally in small doses. The book is entitled Labor of Love, The 1946 European Mission of Ezra Taft Benson. I cannot express enough my gratitude that I have never been directly exposed to war. I can't even stand litter or graffiti! The illogical destruction is just too much for me. I want to share, with someone, some quotes from this book.
I feel very keenly the great responsibility which is mine as we face the grave problmes which confront our people in many of the European countries.....May the Lord ever bless and comfort our Saints. My heart goes out to them. I love them dearly and would do anything within my power to relieve them....Drove to Frankfurt, Germany, today from Basel..Along the way we went through several cities in which we have branches. As we were nearing Heidelberg, we passed a large number of men, women, and children at the city dumpgrounds frantically searching through refuse and garbage being unloaded from army trucks. We learned that this scavenger process is being repeated in all parts of the country due to the destitute condition of so many of the people....The remainder of our trip into Frankdfurt took us through city after city that appeared to be sixty to eighty-five percent bombed out. The city of Darmstadt, in which we formerly had a thriving branch, is almost totally devastated. We learned later that with few exceptions our meeting halls have been completely destroyed and that between eighty and ninety percent of our members have been bombed out of their homes. Many valuable records, together with nearly every piece of branch and district furniture, have either been looted, confiscated, or destroyed through war damage...Most of the damage present resulted through dynamiting of the bridges across the river by the retreating armies.....This day will linger in my memory forever. Left for Hamburg for meeting of priesthood and officers. We held a general session with the large hall, one of the very few not bombed out, filled to capacity and people standing. Nearly 500 attended. There were the largest numbers of children I have seen at any meeting in Germany...I've never seen lovelier children anywhere over here, although they were pale and thin. Just before the closing song, I had all the children eight and under line up in the middle aisle and, as they walked past me, I gave each one some gum or candy from those you [his wife] and the children sent... There must have been fifty to seventy-five children. I had to break some of the gum and candy (Life Savers) in two to make it go around. These sweet, eager but polite little ones almost broke my heart as they looked up with their large eyes and pale faces filled with gratitude. They continued to thank me every chance they got until we drove away. Then I had all mothers with babies come up, and I distributed a bar of soap (which you sent) to each and a few safety pins, needles, and thread, and an orange which we had coaxed from the army chef in Bremen. Flora dear, you'll never know how much these few little things meant. These women hadn't seen an orange for six-and-one-half years and hadn't had a bar of toilet soap or any pins or needles for years. They couldn't hold back the "ahs" and "ahas" as they saw them and yet they were most polite. You could see they'd starved themselves to try to give more to their children in true mother spirit. How I wish I could have had baskets full of things- especially food- to give them. If I could have for each of these families the food wasted in the average American home, it would be much more than their total food supply at present.
The book is full of heartwrenching descriptions like that which evoke so many emotions- gratitude that there are good people in the world who want to help others, sorrow that there are people who continue to seek after and justify war, killing, and destruction for whatever hateful reason they drum up, gratitude that my family (for the most part) have never had to experience or witness horrors of war, sorrow that innocent people are subjected to such suffering when all they want to do is live their lives with people they love. I recently watched a documentary on the Taliban in Afghanistan and heard and saw hatred toward Americans. I want to scream at them and say, "What am I doing that is so horrible to you that you can justify not only wanting to kill me but even kill some of your own people in an effort to succeed in killing me?" Similar stories could be told of every war that has ever occurred. I know I have repeated it many times but I do truly look forward to the separation of the wheat and the tares. I want to be able to live with people who want to be kind, loving, forgiving, understanding, hardworking, generous- in short, Christlike. It makes me sad that there are people who think that is freakish. Because that means they would rather the world stay the way it is.

Gandhi

If you don't know my dad this will be difficult to picture. He had surgery over a week ago and is waiting to be able to come home. His hospital room is well air-conditioned so he is always cold. To make him more comfortable, the nurses lay big, white cotton blankets that have been in a warming cupboard around his shoulders. With his hair all gone, thanks to 4 months of chemotherapy, he struck me as looking familiar somehow- I mean, other than the obvious fact that he is my father. I came to a realization of who he looks like and was surprised when one of his nurses quietly told me one day that they all think he is cute and with the white blanket around him he looks like Gandhi. He even has the same quiet serenity about him- only with Dad it's mostly that he is worn out from the chemo and bored with sitting around a hospital room. He's still a trooper, though. He walks every chance he gets and does so with strength and purpose. It's so hard to fathom that there is a killer inside his body. I know nobody lives forever but I sure hope he doesn't have to spend a lot of time suffering. I am truly grateful that my son didn't suffer.

Oh, my gosh!

I really try to avoid being a slacker. Although athletics of any kind have never been my interest or strength, I have always remained active. I am the largest of my sisters and am, by no means, definitely not the best in shape. However, I work hard and never shy away from even the grueling, boring physical tasks. I go for 30-45 minute walks 5-6 days a week. At home, out of necessity, I go up and down lots of stairs in a day. This morning I was up and ready to go a little bit early to arrive at the care center (a mile walk each way) for the daily scripture study with Mom so I decided to use the time doing some exercises. I was quite surprised when I found it a strain to complete 30 full sit-ups. Despite being poor at sports, when I was younger (I was a dancer- see photo below) I would put on a single record- 45 rpm- and do a very slow sit-up aiming at taking the entire song to get all the way up and back down again. That required having my stomach muscles fully engaged for 2 to 3 minutes depending on the length of the song. I realize I haven't done that since I was 16 and now I'm nearing 60. But I was surprised that my stomach muscles were so weak. This is being brought to mind a lot these days because my mother, once she is upright, can walk some. But she has no strength to get up. My dad (the same age- 84) has remained much more physically active. However, he was surprised after 2 or 3 days of mostly bed rest following his surgery, that getting up and down was so difficult. He can walk great distances without any problem. It's the getting up and down that's so hard- and it happens so quickly! He continues to force himself to eat and force himself to get up. I guess I'll force myself to do sit-ups more often.

People

It is difficult for me to not get a little sad these days. I am spending most of my time either at a care facility with people who are nearing the end of their lives, some of whom have "already left the planet"... or in the ICU at the hospital listening to people fighting for their lives. Dad is progressing nicely so that is good. Mom isn't. I struggle with how to handle that. She is such a loving, kindhearted person. I guess if I didn't love her, I wouldn't be so frustrated.

I have been meeting some really interesting people here in Sun City. Dad's surgeon was a bit of a surprise. When we went for the introductory appointment, a medium height, chunky woman dressed in stretchy pants, a wild tee shirt, funky green and fuschia shoes, a heavy charm bracelet, with spiky orange hair came into the room and I tried not to over-react. She was really pleasant and everyone we have ever spoken to that is at all involved in the medical profession respects her highly. Dad was quite pleased and confident about putting his life in her hands. I must say, if I ever saw her in a mall or restaurant, I would never have pegged her as a skilled thoracic surgeon. She even has beautiful hand writing!

The anesthesologist who put Dad to sleep for the surgery impressed us both from the start. He is a Mexican who moved to the United States when he was 5, grew up here and became a naturalized citizen. He takes in foster children and is also an excellent health care professional. He is also very outspoken about Arizona's controversial new illegal immigrant policy. He is annoyed at people who don't live here and haven't gone through what he has gone through to get to where he is. In his words, "I'm very much in favor of LEGAL immigrants. I paid my dues and think everybody should." He made several jokes about his ethnicity and was wonderful to meet.

An LDS couple put on a little music show at the care facility where Mom is. The wife is one of those few people who have been given the gift of playing piano by ear. She can play anything and plays very well. She doesn't play much classical and the popular music she plays is in the style of Liberace or Ferrante and Teicher(??). Her husband sings kind of like Don Ho I guess. But they are amazing for senior citizens and put on an excellent program. She has played for Disneyland and Opryland. They drop famous people's names as acquaintences and have 5 children and 14 grandchildren and 3 1/2 great-grandchildren.

I look forward to a time and opportunity to socialize without fear of being misunderstood, misled, or mistreated. There are lots of really pleasant people around with fascinating stories to tell but sometimes fear gets in the way of fellowship. We need somebody in charge to run things perfectly and there needs to be a weeding out of people who don't want to live with rules. Some day..............

How much to hope for...???

Tomorrow I will be taking my father to a thoracic surgeon to investigate a new process for lung cancer. It involves injecting talc into the lining of the lung cavity. It sounds strange until you read a medical article on it. It has shown more promise than anyone ever expected. I have a long list of questions to ask the doctor and am glad the appointment is early in the day. The wait would drive me crazy! Sometimes I almost forget how sick Dad is. Then I listen to him awake most of the night coughing and see him grimace at the thought of eating anything and I am reminded.

On the other hand, my mother is very slowly making tiny baby steps of progress toward more physical independence. It's pretty frustrating to watch her. But the best thing for her is to NOT step in and help. She needs to gain strength and that only comes from using her own muscles, not someone else's.

Russ and I are frustratingly still in financial limbo. We went through the bankruptcy hearing that we so dreaded but nothing is finalized yet. We know we haven't been turned down for bankruptcy but we don't know if there will be a forced sale on our house or exactly what we will yet be responsible for. Our future has become a huge blank with a question mark in it.

The week in Florida, Part 2

According to reports we heard, the oil spill in the Gulf coast was headed our way so we took a quick trip to the beach, stopping to buy boogey (sp?) boards along the way. I tried to get a picture of Russ out riding a wave but due to the brightness of the sun and not being able to see the little image on the camera, I didn't get a good picture. But here is Lisa with the kids finding clams. Lisa knows how to get them to push out their little foot to try to move while on your hand. We enjoyed the day and only got a little sunburned, thanks to sunscreen!

Although our timing for seeing Keith wasn't good, our timing for a local annual event was great! We were there for the Billie Bowleg Pirate Festival! Aaron had been Jack Sparrow for the last Halloween so he was able to wear most of his costume (it was just too hot for the long-sleeved shirt and pants). Lisa did a terrific job putting together things she found for free, making things, or buying fairly cheaply. She's quite creative. (Is that a proud mother talking?)(Oh, and, Lisa, if you read this- your sister is really creative but so are you!) They had a great fireworks display, Lisa ran a midnight race while we stayed with the kids (all of us sleeping but she did well I guess), and a parade with waaaayy too many bead necklaces thrown to the crowd. Along with the food booths and various pirate themed stuff for sale, they had a little dramatic reenactment. Here is the pirate band as they got off the "ship" to "attack" the city!

We also spent time doing yard work, going to the movies, eating wonderful meals, and just enjoyed being together. Lisa is sharing her love of books with her children, along with her love of music. Russ and I are really glad.