It’s Not In Spite Of, But Rather Because Of

 When I was seventeen and a senior in high school, my health took a sudden, steep, and inexplicable nose dive. Until then, I was an athlete, running five miles every day in the off-seasons, 4.0 student, and involved in a plethora of varied extra-curriculars. After too many ambulance rides and rounds of testing, my mom and I sat down with the director of pulmonology at the largest hospital in the area, for another one of our many appointments. The director had heard about my “fascinating” case and had taken me on personally. He told me that while he had absolutely no idea what was going on, there was a pretty good chance it was going to kill me. Naturally, my first question was, “How long do I have?” He replied, “I have no idea, it could likely be any day now.” Then he drew a circle around the nearest hospital to me and firmly told me I was never to go outside that circle. I needed to always be within a few minutes of the rescue medications required to open my bizarrely unresponsive airways that were only available in a hospital setting. EMTs always tried hard but couldn’t get my airways to open up with the supplies they had available. I can’t even count how many times I’ve lost consciousness from suffocation after my airways spontaneously closed off. Thankfully, I’ve always woken up. 

At the time, I didn’t tell anyone how serious things were. I just wanted to have as normal a life as possible, however long that might be. I wanted to laugh with my friends, not feel the heavy weight ever-present when people think you’re about to die, especially as a teenager. It was a deeply reflective time in my life. Paradoxically, it was one of the periods of greatest peace in my life. I had no idea if I would die that very day, live to see my high school graduation, or live into my 90’s, but I knew completely and core-deep that no matter the outcome, everything was going to be okay. I was at peace with dying. I was at peace with living. I could feel God’s love and the companionship of the Spirit every day. While I had to go through something heavy and terrifying, I knew I wasn’t going through it alone. I could feel Heaven was always close by, and that gave me strength and comfort.

Twelve years of continued searching later, we’re just starting to find answers. Some of those answers have treatments, others don’t. Along the journey, I just kept believing we’d find the answer, its treatment or cure, and I’d go back to the physical health and well-being of my youth. I looked forward to enjoying all the activities I once did, especially as a family and with my young children, as a way of having hope through the especially low times. Reframing a life is difficult and slow work, with a lot of two steps forward, one step back. It’s mentally and emotionally, very messy work. Having ALL the conditions I do simultaneously is extraordinarily rare, my specialists only know of two other cases in their collective careers, and I’m the only one of the three to have had children, which changes the body and its considerations. So pretty much everything is theoretical and uncharted territory. With so many unknowns and practically no precedence, no one can give me a prognosis or any idea of what level of function or quality of life is realistic to hope for. It’s all “wait and see”. One thing all the specialists agree on is that I will never have the physical ability and health I once had. That’s the hardest pill I’ve ever had to swallow.

I’m forever grateful for the miracle of getting in with my now lead specialist this past fall. His wife has two of the dozen rare conditions I have, and they had to go through a long medical journey themselves. You don’t get that level of dedication and care any other way. He’s my biggest medical supporter of hope. He said the post-neurosurgery rehab journey will be arduous and years-long, but he believes he can improve my level of function and quality of life noticeably, hopefully, significantly. Among many things, it will include the second time in my adult life of having to learn how to walk again. Amidst the fog of uncertainty and the unknown, Tanner and I choose to hope for the best possible outcome. For now, my doctor's number one priority is just trying to get me to stay medically stable enough to get cleared for neurosurgery in May. We’re holding onto shipwreck debris in the middle of the ocean, just clinging on through the night until the neurosurgery rescue boat comes in the morning of May. 

It’s hard to be so debilitated, especially in this stage of life. Especially with littles. It’s hard to see everyone else living life like I planned to and long for. Just ordinary, day-to-day life. The other night I was sharing my heavy heart with Heavenly Father about this. He helped me remember so many strong, amazing people from the scriptures who endured extremely difficult circumstances as a young adult - and then went on to do great things. Joseph was sold as a slave into Egypt by his own brothers, then wrongfully imprisoned for years before he went on to become Pharaoh's right-hand man and was the reason Egypt had a storehouse for their seven years of drought, saving countless. I imagine while he was in the early years of slavery and imprisonment, he was feeling pretty lowly, with no hope or expectation of life getting much better, let alone becoming Egypt’s #2 and saving so many lives. Ruth lost her young husband while living in a foreign land away from her family and culture and had to pick scraps left behind in fields for food to eat. She went on to become a predecessor of David and even a part of Christ’s earthly lineage. How many missionaries throughout the scriptures were tortured or imprisoned simply for being a missionary? Joseph Smith, while striving to only do God’s will, faced adversity after adversity. He worked hard and attained very little by way of the world, often living hand-to-mouth and by the great kindness of others. He and Emma lost child after child after child. He was tarred and feathered by mobs. Yet he persisted and his efforts have changed countless lives, mine included. The list goes on. 

Sometimes good people go through exceptionally difficult seasons. Sometimes those seasons are short, other times lengthy, still more last a lifetime. But you know what? It wasn’t in spite of their trials that they were able to do good, help others, and make a difference, it was because of their adversities.  

It’s hard to see the good that may come at some future moment while you’re just trying to tread water and cling on for dear life, praying help and relief come in time. It’s even harder while watching others pass by on warm comfy boats, totally unaware, seemingly without a care in the world. But I think maybe everyone will feel like that at least some time in their lives. It’s just the rescue boat comes more quickly for most. The best part about every boat? They’re all equipped with a life preserver. We were made to help those around us, to buoy up the weary and struggling. Most of the time, when help comes, it comes through others reaching out a helping hand and pulling us up. I have seen a great number of prayers answered through good people who simply see a need and meet it because that’s just who they are. 

The truth is none of us knows how long we have earth-side, or with any given physical ability, medical trials or not. All we can do is try to enjoy what we have while we have it. And USE IT. Don’t wait. Life will always be crazy and busy. Sit down and make a list of what matters to you most in life. Think about what you might regret at the end, to help clarify the list. Then, with a daily calendar make a new routine by first scheduling time for what matters most and what is necessary. Fill in the rest until time runs out and then let everything else that didn’t make the cut, as good as they may be, fall from your life. The world will go on, it will be okay. Don’t glorify being busy as a status symbol. Make time for family and loved ones first. Be careful not to be so busy working or helping the community and world, you don’t have time to truly be there and available for your own family. It happens all too often. 

Life is crazy and we’ll all go through rough seas. I’m grateful for the life preservers and rescue boats of others along the way. I’m especially grateful to know that while I may have to tread water for a while, there will never be a second I have to go through it alone. I know God lives. I know He loves His children and knows them individually and personally. He comes to our aid and helps us through every step of this mortal journey, sunshine or storm. 

Much has changed in the last twelve years, but some things remain the same. I know that no matter what lies ahead, in the end, everything will be okay. No matter how tumultuous the storm, a way will always be provided through. (Because when it comes to the storms of life, the only way to reach the other side is straight through the thick of it.) God will send others to be His hands. I look forward to the day when I will be able to help others because of the experiences I’ve had. I seek out opportunities to help now, but I look forward to when I have an increased capacity to do more, both for others waging the same storm, and more, for my children and family. The future may not look as I once imagined, but there is always something to look forward to. No matter how long and dark the night, morning will come. Always. 

The One “Helpful” Phrase That’s All Wrong - And What To Say Instead

Here are some things I've learned along the way. I've been personally guilty of using this phrase and am trying to correct my own actions. Life's all about learning and adjusting on repeat.

Don’t say: “Let me know if you need any help!” (Often said with one foot out the door, literally or figuratively.)

Knowing someone is going through a difficult time in their life and saying, “Well, let me know if you need any help!” Is the verbal equivalent of being in the middle of a vast lake in a motor boat, coming across someone in a rickity old row boat, stopping briefly to say “Well you have my number so let me know if you need anything, ok bye!” And jetting off as they’re left bucketing out water and paddling for dear life. Depending on their situation that may be accurate or a little dramatized, but you get the idea. 

When you say, “Let me know IF,” it places the person in need in a position to have to beg for help, or at least feel like it. Most of all, it implies they don’t currently need help, making it awkward to ask if they do, especially when these are said as parting words. Also, since you already know they’re going through a hard time, it can make your desire to help come across as insincere; everyone going through a trying time needs a helping hand. 

Instead say: “I know things are hard right now and I want to help, what would lighten your load?” 

Or simply, “What can I do?” 

Follow with offers you’re comfortable doing and give specific time frames, like “this week” or “Thursday evening I’m available”. It can be uncomfortable to ask for help and difficult to know what’s an “acceptable” favor to ask for. Additionally, there are some ways you’re more comfortable helping and other ways you’re less so. Giving suggestions of options you’re comfortable doing, along with time frames, is a win-win for both parties.

Some ideas include: 

• “Can I bring you dinner this week?” 

  (And while I am always appreciative of anyone bringing me a meal, I am so grateful when they bring it in containers I don’t have to worry about washing and returning to them right away. I almost teared up once when one thoughtful soul even brought dinner with a stack of paper plates, silverware, cups, and napkins so we wouldn’t have any dishes to do.) 

• “I’m going to Walmart and Costco this week, is there anything I can grab for you?” 

  (Venmo is a wonderful thing for just these situations.)

• “Would it be helpful if I took the kids for a couple of hours so you could have some quiet time to recharge or go on a date?” 

  (It can be challenging to have time alone - or together - when you’re deep in the trenches of survival mode, especially with children.)

• “Would it be helpful if I came over and helped with any cleaning/chores/laundry/mowing the lawn this week? I have a free hour on Saturday.” 

But one of the most overlooked - and most powerful - forms of support in times of need is simply just showing up and being present. A “thinking of you” text takes you seconds and can help buoy someone treading water. Humor truly is an all purpose remedy. Never underestimate the power of passing along a funny picture, meme, gif, video, or story. Even better if it’s a personal story from your day. Everyone wants to feel included and connected, especially those homebound and/or struggling. Take the everyday opportunities to share what you admire and appreciate in others. It’s not done nearly often enough and I promise, it becomes more natural with practice and is always appreciated. If the circumstance allows, instead of dropping dinner at the door and rushing off, ask if there’s a time they’d feel up to having a visit, or perhaps going out to grab a bite together.  Sometimes, it is so wonderful just to get out of the house. Other times, that’s not an option.  Every time, it’s revitalizing just to spend time with a friend. 

 {There is a formidable power in human connection that can sustain and strengthen through life’s difficult challenges. Likewise, isolation can weaken the already weary.}

At the end of the day, how you show up matters little. That you show up can make a world of difference. Reach out. Show up. Lift up. We’re all just trying to make it through and make it Home, so why not do it together?

Who is someone on your mind right now that you can reach out to? Do it! Send that text! Make that call! Give that hug! Say, “I love you!” Spread a little love and light! You never know just how badly it may be needed. 

Our Own Pool of Bethesda

(Christ Healing the Sick at the Pool of Bethesda by Carl Bloch)

 In John 5 we learn of the Pool of Bethesda, a special pool of water in Jerusalem where people could be healed by entering in after the water was periodically touched by an angel.

Every time I read this story, my heart aches for the man who sat waiting for 38 years to be healed, always physically unable to get to the pool on his own, despite his best efforts.  He just had to sit and watch person after person get to the water before him and be healed. (v. 7 reads: "The impotent man answered him, [Jesus] Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.")

Sometimes I feel like that in life.  Mobility has been a struggle and I've been in and out of a wheel chair for the last decade.  There have been times I've had to crawl - with everything I've got - to get to nearby essentials, like the bathroom, or food and water.  Other times I couldn't even crawl.

I haven't been healing from my surgery in October like the doctors expected, or would like.  To the point my upcoming surgery next week was threatened to be canceled, a PICC line was placed for daily infusions, and I'm on more aggressive medication. 

I see and hear wonderful, life-changing success stories from that surgery (and my next) online and I can't help but feel like the poor man trying his hardest to crawl his way into the pool and be miraculously healed, only to never make it and instead have to watch others be healed.

The story has a happy ending.  Christ comes and sees the man and his years of struggle.  He heals the man, making him whole.  Christ is the living water who heals us all, inside and out, and makes us whole.  While I try my hardest and endure man's imperfect methods of healing, I am reminded of two things: the only way to be whole is through the Savior, and that being whole has nothing to do with the state of my physical health.

May we remember we always have access to the Living Water, a power far greater than any pool of Bethesda.

Let the Light Shine (With)In

Life can be crazy.  Life can be hard. In those moments it can be difficult to see the glimmer of good twinkling down from Heaven.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.  Sometimes the foliage in the forest is so thick and dense that the ferns on the forest floor can’t see the bright sun shining above the treetops. That doesn’t mean the sun isn’t shining.  

Some moments in life it’s easy to see the sun shining, like in an open mountain meadow filled with wildflowers.  Other moments require more faith in the sun’s presence, like that fern.  Some life trails are mostly mountain meadows, only walking through the darkened forest briefly.  Other trails are mostly trekking through overgrown forests.  

Two universal truths remain: everyone will spend some time in the thick of it and no matter the terrain of your personal journey, the sun will always be shining down on you.

We are never alone.  God never abandons His children.  That doesn’t mean it will always be easy to see or feel His presence.  Trust, hope, and love are the tools we need to cut down just enough overgrowth to let a little  light break through the darkness.  When that little ray erupts through the dark ceiling, turn toward it, soak in the warmth on your face.

It can be easy to miss glimmers of light, they often present in small moments, in simple ways. Sharing a little laugh with another.  The bright-eyed smile of a child.  Fresh air breezing through your hair.  The grass between your toes.  The scent of a blossoming flower.  Even the absence of a greater trial.  Though the most overlooked glimmer of light, is the one shining within.

When you’re in the thick of it and struggling to see the light, look for it in small and simple places.  I promise, you will find a glint. As you continue striving to see sunshine, that glint will grow into a glimmer.  That glimmer will grow and grow until one day, you look up, soaking in the beam breaking through, lighting up the forest floor, illuminating a path into a clearing.  

Don’t give up on Heaven’s light.  It never stops shining, even in the thick of it.  The clouds will clear, the foliage will thin, the light will break through.  In the meantime, trust in God’s unconditional, perfect love for you.  Hope that a glint will soon be spotted.  Love God and those around you.  Let that love fill you and light you from within.  Heaven’s light is always shining down - and within - you, through forest thick and mountain meadow.

Winning the War (on POTS)

I've had the feeling like I need to start blogging again for a while now, but I've been pushing it off with half-hearted excuses, much like I did with cleaning chores as a kid.  So why the sudden change of heart?  One ugly, gut-wrenching word: suicide.  I just read an article about a college freshmen from MIT who had been battling POTS for a couple of years, had a bad flare up that required her to take a medical leave from school and return home.  Between the pain and all the other symptoms that come with POTS and having to leave her dream and her world at MIT behind because of it, she committed suicide.  She left a note for her mother saying, "Sorry, I couldn't keep fighting."

I get it.

Having a similar story to Christina's - both graduating Valedictorian at age 17, all the personality traits that go along with that; getting frustrated when the only thing people say to you is, "How's your health doing?" especially when the answer is always, "Not well!" but you never say that because you don't like to dwell on it and you really don't like pity; and finally, we both had to leave university early on medical leave because of POTS - this news really hit close to home.  It makes me cringe to bring attention to myself for anything POTS related; that's why I haven't been blogging.  Now I see a reason to speak up and reach out that is worth so very much more than my pride or ego.  I KNOW what it's like to feel completely alone, that there is no one in your life or in the lives of those you know that can come close to understanding or relating to what you're going through.  It took me several years with POTS before I found a diagnosis and even longer before I was able to meet someone who had it.  I had to leave college in the middle of the semester - 3 times! -  to go home because I could no longer meet my basic needs, let alone get to class.  I know what that's like.  I know the frustration and heartbreak.

I get it.

I guess this post is just in case someone out there is scouring the web in the wee hours of the morning looking for understand, for just one person who can relate to what they're going through on their journey with POTS or any other chronic illness at a young age.  I want you to know you are not alone.  You are NEVER alone.  There are people out there who know exactly what you're going through.  What you're going through is REAL.  There are people around you who really do genuinely care how your health is doing.  And there is always, ALWAYS a loving God who is so very anxious to wrap His arms around you and give you peace and calm when He cannot calm the storm.

Don't give up!  Don't quit fighting!  The fight is hard and it is long and sometimes it seems like it is never-ending, but it IS worth it!  When you feel like it's just too much to carry on, reach out!  Reach out to God, reach out to your family, reach out to your loved ones, reach out to your doctors, you can even reach out to me.  The point is, you are not alone and there are people anxious to come to your side and fight along side you when it seems you're on the losing side of the battle.  Just remember, there are many battles within a war and it doesn't matter how many battles you win or lose, just that you keep fighting until you win the war.

Don't Judge a House by Its Wheelchair

The past month or so my health has taken a sudden and drastic turn for the worse.  I've been in and out of the hospital and am back in a wheelchair.  It's been extremely difficult for me.  After six years with POTS I'm still battling it out every single day.  When is it going to end?  When is it - when am I - going to get better?  Sometimes it feels like it never will. . .

Blessedly, I have the most incredible and Christ-like roommates with the best sense of humor!  One roommate even wheels me to class and makes food for me to eat because she wants me to stay! I am truly loved.

Whenever I go through an extraordinarily difficult time, I try to figure out what it is that I am supposed to learn from it.  I secretly hope that if I can figure out whatever that trial is meant to teach me, then I can somehow make the trial end sooner.  It's a pretty good motivation to seek learning.  I've been praying every day to understand what it is I'm supposed to take from this recent and very unexpected health complication.  I was getting frustrated after weeks and weeks without getting any closer to an answer.  Then, it hit me.

It's not about my vessel, it's about being His vessel.  It's not about the state or condition of my body that matters, but rather, how I use it.  Life's all about overcoming the body, or natural man.  Looking past the physical and seeing the spirit within.  Apparently I need to lose the use of my body to understand how unimportant it is in defining who I am.  To realize how little my body and physical health have to do with my identity and worth.

 My body is only a vessel, a shelter for my spirit, and I am so much more than the house I live in.  Though the foundation may be cracked and the paint may be chipping from the walls, it can still be a house filled with warmth, love, and the Spirit of a merciful God.  It can still do much good in the lives of others, bringing them peace and comfort.  It can still provide others a shelter from the raging storms of this world.  My humble little house can still be a little piece of heaven on earth for those who frequent it.

So starting now, I'm going to work harder on not being focused on the state of my body, but more, focused on what I'm choosing to do with it.  It's not about how much you have, but what you do with what you've got.  And boy, oh boy, have I got some pretty tremendous things left inside of me!

I'm Back!

I can't believe it's already been almost a year since my last entry!  In May I went to an AMAZING treatment program at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.  They were the hands and the mouth pieces the Lord used to answer my own prayers and the many prayers offered on my behalf.  My doctor there advised me to never again talk about my health to anyone.  I've tried diligently to follow all of my doctor's orders, but to this one I say, "Screw it!"

I've come to realize that while people now treat me as a person and not a medical condition, I am no longer able to reach out to and encourage and inspire others without referencing my Great Trial.  I can't sit back and keep my mouth shut anymore.  God gave me this trial and all the wonderful lessons and experiences that came with it so that I can use them to help others, not to pretend it never happened.

So here I am, back and ready to go!

I'm amazed at how much strength the Lord can give me each and every day.  I know without a doubt that as I turn to Him, He sends angels to uphold me up and ease my burdens.  God is so very giving.  While I am doing REMARKABLY better health-wise, there are still days and moments when I struggle.  Life is a great balancing act. 

There is one building I cut through each day on my way to campus from my apartment.  I have to climb up a staircase to reach the level of campus, as the school sits on a hill.  I push myself to always take the stairs, remembering all the times stairs weren't even an option for me  On days when I am struggling, as I slowly trudge up the final stairs, a life-size brass statue of Christ greets me.  On those days, I say to Him, "Help me Lord, I can't do this without You."  I can feel His love and support fill me and lift me up.  All things are made possible through our Savior.  He did not Atone and die on the Cross for only our sins.  No, He Atoned also for all of our trials, for all of our ailments.  I know Jesus Christ gave His life to help me through this one.  He gave His life to free me from the burdens I can no longer carry.  He gave His life so that I can live again with Him in His Home above.  I am never alone.  Neither are you.

Want v. Need

Today I felt better than I have in a while and it made such a dramatic difference!  I was even able to go outside for a bit.  Fresh air is God's medicine.  It did me some good to play with Henry, my sister's six month-old corgi, and to pull some weeds around the house for my mama.  I even got some good mediation practice in and got Henry and Zipper, the very ornery family cat, to coexist in harmony through a lot of petting and and cooing; in many ways animals are a lot like toddlers.

Today was all about the little pleasures in life.  I felt accomplished when I got the animals to play nice for the first time.  I felt proud of myself when I was able to do something nice for my mom by pulling the weeds.  I felt connected when my family watched America's Best Dance Crew together and "voted" on our favorites.  I felt merry when Erica and I took funny pictures together that never came out because we were laughing so hard neither one of us could hold the camera still.  I felt light when I cleaned off and uncluttered my nightstand.  Sometimes I think our society focuses so much on the "importance" of filling space we forget the value in just letting space be space.

I've been reading several books on minimalism over the past few months and have done a great deal to declutter every aspect of my life.  When you live with a chronic health condition time and energy become even more precious and valued for their rarity.  I view my energy as money that must be budgeted; each day I wake up with an allotted budget and must spend it wisely.  Consequently, prioritizing has made its way to the forefront of my attention and the focus of my personal studies. 

With poor health comes bountiful time to think about many things most people my age haven't had the need or occasion to think of.  For this, I am grateful.  Life doesn't ever go the way we plan but in the scheme of things, I don't want it to.  My vision is so very limited with the blinders of perspective and experience I don't have.  When I think of the plans in life that didn't come to pass because of circumstances out of my control I see how devastated I was in the moment, but then I see how much better things were with the way they turned out.  I know what I'm going through will be for my gain in the long run.  The lessons it's teaching me and the person it's helping me become is far greater than what I could have ever planned for myself.   I'm so very grateful I have not always been given what I want in life, but rather, what I need.

For Mary

People come into our lives for a reason.  Every now and again someone will say exactly what I need to hear to be uplifted, re-motivated, and to feel loved.  Today I got a beautiful card from my friend Mary.  We haven't seen each other in a year as we live in different countries but were roommates in college our freshman year.  I needed to hear everything she had to say.  As I was reading I felt the loving warmth of our friendship and it meant a great deal as my physical health has not been well lately.  At the end of the letter she asked (commanded) me to keep blogging because it was inspirational, so Mary, this one's for you.

I know it's been a while since my last entry.  My health has been about the same since my last entry over half a year ago, unfortunately.  I had the wonderful opportunity in February to go to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, for a week of fun-filled poking, prodding, and testing.  It was all worth it though as I've never had doctors as knowledgeable, helpful, and compassionate, as the doctors I saw there.  It turns out the Mayo Clinic has the nation's only POTS treatment program.  It's an outpatient program that lasts about a month and has phenomenal success rates.  I leave for it in just a few weeks!

Most pinnacle moments in life aren't realized until they become memories.  It's not very often in life that a person is aware their life is about to be dramatically changed ahead of time.  I know this POTS treatment program will forever change the trajectory of my life, whether it cures me or not.  This is it.  There's nothing higher in the medical field of POTS treatment and research than the Mayo Clinic and its program.  If it allows me to live a normal healthy life again, then it's obvious how my life will be changed from its current and past state.  If I go through this program and I don't get better, well that's just a depressing future to think of.  My friends ask me if I'm nervous or scared for this treatment as the doctors have forewarned me that for at least the first week I'm going to feel like I can't make it through.  I wouldn't say I'm scared or nervous for what I'm going to go through in this treatment, not after everything I've already been through with my attacks.  Not after knowing that what I will be going through will make me better.  It's so much easier to face hard things when I know it's going to make me better, and hopefully, it's going to make all the hard things I face everyday with my POTS go away.  I think I'm more anxious for it than anything else.  I'm anxious to meet people my age going through the same things I am.  I'm anxious for it to be over.  I'm anxious to know if I'm going to be all better.  But most of all, I'm anxious to move forward with my life.

Anything I Could Do, I Can Do Better

When I learned that the cornerstone of my treatment to getting better would be reprogramming my brain I realized just how much the Lord prepares people for the trials and challenges they will face in life.  I thought to myself, "that totally sounds like something I would do."  Though I know the road to recovery is long and hard I am overwhelmed with the sure knowledge that I can do it.  I'm constantly learning of little ways God has prepared me throughout my life to have the skills and tools I will need to overcome this obstacle and go on to accomplish even greater things.  There's so much I'm continuing to learn even though I'm not in any classroom this semester. 

We all have experiences throughout life that progressively build us up and equip us with the right tools to come out on the right side of our next roadblock.  I know that we will never face a wall too high to climb, but that's not to say we won't need a boost getting over it.  We are never alone and the only thing that could get in our way of progressing through life is ourselves.  Sometimes we just have to tell our humanity - our fears, insecurities, weaknesses, short-comings - to take the backseat and marvel at all the unshackled potential and ability that was just bursting to get out.

Torro! Torro!

Some of the talents I posses: planning, organizing, determination, drive, ambition and the love of setting and accomplishing goals.  Once I set my mind to something I knock down every brick wall I encounter until I reach my desired destination.  Nothing can get in my way and any nay-sayings to my goal offered by others or doctors gets lost in the wind.  It's a very good trait to have and has served me well with all of the brick walls I've encountered with my health.  I approach them head-on and bull-dose right through each of them.

While this approach gets me far it's also incredibly important - and something I can definitely improve upon - to take the time to slow down, enjoy, and soak in all of the lessons and blessings that are in the present.  Sometimes all I see is the waving red cape and charge right at it without stopping to see the crowd or the roses they throw.  It's something that's hard for me.  Right now I am so completely focused on achieving my goal of being well enough to return to BYUH that I'm not having the right perspective and patience, the right peripheral vision if you will, with the lessons I'm supposed to be learning along the way.  I was reminded of that today.

I'm so anxious to get back to my life, to finally move forward.  I realized today that when I think from that perspective I'm defining "moving forward" and "having a life" in terms that aren't necessarily the most beneficial or insightful.  I do have a life and I am living it every second of every day.  Who's to say that the lessons I am to learn from the trials I am waging through right now aren't helping me progress in the grand scheme of things?  Certainly they are in a grand way.  I'm learning that even though much of my time is spent on bed rest I still need to slow down.  How crazy does that sound?

Perspective is a fluid concept that can and should be challenged and altered accordingly everyday of life.  If we're simply content with life and our beliefs - and I don't mean religious beliefs - the way they are, what fun is that?  Where's the growth?  Where's the development?  Where's the progress?  And what is life without progression?  Unfortunately progression cannot come without a few sturdy brick walls blocking the path.  But just as Randy Pausch said in his book, The Last Lecture, "Brick walls are there for a reason.  They give us a chance to show how badly we want something."  Boy, oh boy, do I want to be well enough to return to BYUH badly but I have to realize that shouldn't necessarily be my number one priority.  When I learn to put the little things first the bigger things will fall into place.  Day by day.  I need to keep my perspective broad and all-encompassing, not solely focused on the bright red cape just a few feet out of reach, enthralling me.

Lies My Mother Told Me

My mama and her mama before her always said, "If you have your health, you have everything."  When I was little this was just the ramblings of old people.  Now that I am older and a bit wiser too, I have put a lot more thought into this phrase.  When I began my physical trial I cringed every time mama said this, which felt like every day.  When others would ask about my health she'd find a way to bring this up and say how now she understands what her mama meant when she said it and how wise she was.  As I stood by and listened I thought, "If health is everything, what do I have?  Nothing?"  It really perturbed me.  According to the logic of this phrase, I had nothing, my life was over, I had nothing to contribute to the world.  I couldn't disagree more.  I may not have the greatest health at the moment, but I have hope, family, friends, knowledge, and so much more.  I can still laugh and enjoy the moments I have, whether they're stuck on bed rest or out climbing mountains.  Just because my health may not be the greatest now doesn't leave me destitute forever.  There's hope in a brighter future, in doctors making new break-throughs and in recovery.  The part of this concept of having nothing if I don't have my health was nails on the chalkboard to me.  It was the idea that I have nothing to contribute to the world just because my body misbehaves.  Excuse me, but I still have a perfectly good mind and plenty of skills to equip me with a plethora of ways I can contribute to the world around me.  No health condition can deprive me of my ability and agency to smile at all I see, to be an open ear and shoulder to all who stand in need, and to reach out to others all around the world through all of the amazing ways of communication that now exist.  One of the greatest things of all I can do is to reach out to others struggling with physical disabilities and hardships and let them know they're not alone in what they're going through and feeling.  I know that's something I search for and it's something I can give.  There is so very much I can give - "healthy" or not.

As I've mulled over this little nugget that's been passed down through the generations, there's one simple correction I would make.  In my eyes and experience, health has NOTHING to do with what I have or don't have in life.  My relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ, does.  When I have that I have peace, comfort, hope, joy, and companionship.  I know that I'm never alone and there's someone out there who loves me beyond measure and knows exactly what I'm going through every step of the way.  When I have God I have dry eyes and quieted fears.  I have a better perspective and more patience to endure with a happy heart and not a complaining or self-pitying one.  I'm not perfect, but I can be made perfect in Him.  Regardless of my health.  No, I have learned that having health is not everything.  What I will pass down to my children and grandchildren will only be one word different than what was passed down to me.  But sometimes one little word can make all the difference.  For when you have God, you have everything.

No Dessert 'Til After You Finish Your Dinner

I suppose I've been putting this entry off because I didn't know what to say.  The first part of August I was admitted to OHSU for a week of testing.  From it I learned I do not have epilepsy, but we're in the right "-ology".  I also learned that any last hope I had of returning to school for Fall semester was completely and utterly extinguished.  When I asked about Winter semester, as I would need to be making plans relatively soon, I was told "not to worry about school right now".  Tonight, after a long battle with BYUH's "medical deferment" policy, I officially discontinued.  I feel sick to my stomach and completely exhausted.  It's hard to spend a lifetime working hard, giving my all to reaching a goal that's dangling just out of reach.  I know I'll get through this and I know I'll be able to return to school, just not now.  It's like I'm told I can have my favorite dessert, AFTER I finish all the liver and fermented spinach on my plate.  I don't want the gross dinner that's staring me in the face.  I just want my yummy dessert.  Unfortunately life's not always sprinkles and chocolate.

So, for the next few months (I'm still putting a heavy hope on returning to BYUH in January) I'll be continuing my medical journey of blood sausage and monkey brains, enduring only because I know what awaits me at the other end.  The doctors may say it's very unlikely I'll be able to return for Winter semester, but that's only because they don't know me.  I'm a very goal-oriented person and once I set my mind on something, I make it happen.  Did you know it's medically been proven that people can will a wart off of their foot?  Oh the power of the human mind and will-power.  So bring on the pig intestines and cockroaches.  This girl's got the stomach for anything placed before her.  What wouldn't I do for a slice of chocolate haupia pie from Ted's?

Exhibit L

Sometimes I think life is hard.  And if I didn't know any better, there are moments I'd think life to be too hard.  Thank Heavens I know better.  The attacks haven't stopped, in fact they've only gotten progressively worse.  People assume that just because it's my body doing the weird things that I'm some sort of medical genie with all of the answers about it.  Well, my mama taught me what assuming does.  Just because it - what ever "it" is - is happening to me, doesn't mean I have any more clue than the masses of medical professionals that have scratched their heads in my direction.  I'm just the lucky girl with the front row seat to the show.

I can tell I've learned so much and already progressed so far because I'm finding myself admitting things to myself that I wouldn't before.  Like, sometimes I really am scared during the attacks, especially ones where I can hardly breathe.  I know this sounds crazy and completely irrational, but it's taken me a loooong time to be able to admit to myself that sometimes my life is hard, and that's okay.  I used to believe that admitting that life was hard was a sign of weakness on my part and I just needed to be stronger.  I mean, people go through so much worse than I do, what right do I have to think my situation difficult?  Not for the first, or last time, I was wrong.

How can I properly assess my growth if my measuring stick is warped?

Sure, if I compare having each limb gnawed off by beavers while simultaneously going through Chinese water torture to what I go through, than I have nothing to complain about.  But, if I compare what I go through, not only during my attacks, but on a daily basis, with what I've been through in the past (being healthy) then I have every right to think what I do isn't easy.  Being completely and utterly honest with myself about the hard stuff - fears, vulnerabilities, short comings - enables me to see myself in a more pure lighting.  Without the skewed shadows I can see the picture much more clearly.

  Clarity accentuates the positive as much as it exposes the negative.

As humans, we tend to blow the perceived negative in ourselves way out of proportion to the point that we become blind to our positive.  We become fearful that the whole world sees the ugliness that we see in ourselves, so we try to mask it.  What we fail to realize is that the masks we put up only draw attention to our "problem areas", which are usually a fraction of what we perceive them to be.  So where we naturally had a beautiful painting, where the few minute flaws only expressed individuality and our own idiosyncrasies - nothing that distracted from the masterpieces that we are - we allow our fears and insecurities to distort our canvases to the point that what once was a lovely Monet has become a Salvador Dali.  As any artist knows, it's all about the way in which we illuminate ourselves.  Our natural light comes from truth.  It isn't until we add a few pigments of inaccurate self-imagery or self-deception that the once favorable lighting becomes oh so horrifying.

So how do we revert our tainted light to pure light?  How do we see ourselves the way that the Painter sees His masterpieces?  Unfortunately, there's no magic light bulb we can just screw in to replace the old.  It's a process that takes time and a lot of labor.  Not dirty, sweaty labor, but a labor of love, forgiveness, patience, understanding, compassion, and most of all, mercy.  With ourselves.  How many of us can honestly say we treat ourselves with all of these attributes?  Sure, we can be quick to see past others' short comings and mistakes - after all, they're just human - but are we as merciful with ourselves?  We are a work of art!  Who is to judge whether the style or brushstrokes in which we were painted are right or wrong?  We are all made differently, but not one was made less masterfully.  It's all in how we see it.  Our self-confidence comes in knowing that He who created us would never make any work of art less than an extraordinary showpiece.  It's up to us to figure out, in this great big Museum, which Exhibit we were meant to shine in.

Soaring Above Old Fences

I didn't think I could top two attacks within 15 hours, but true to myself, I found a way to out-due myself once again.  Last night, Japh camped out in the living room with me again and I was so lucky to have such a mellow little brother with me.  I was able to wake him up around 1 AM and he took very good care of me during the whole attack.  He also went and woke up mama and papi.  When I started feeling my attack coming on, I was in complete disbelief.  I thought to myself, "This can't be happening; there's no way I could have another one."

THREE ATTACKS WITHIN 20 HOURS.

Every attack makes my whole body so sore and weak, and to have them over and over again, it only made it hurt worse during each subsequent attack.  Despite all of this, I surprised myself with how well I handled the attack mentally.

You never know what you're capable of doing until you're pushed to your limits.  Even during the third attack, I was given strength from a place much deeper than I'm capable of reaching on my own.  I know that my Heavenly Father gave me the mental and emotional strength to endure my physical trial.  For even during the worst of it, I was surprised by the realization that I could not only handle three attacks back-to-back, but that I could handle more.  I was pushed past what I believed to be my limit only to find the fence-line 20 yards further ahead of me. 

What a beautiful gift I have been given.  So many people go through life believing what they're capable of to be so much less than what it truly is.  They see their field of possibilities and capabilities to be a much more harnessed and arid land than what it actually is.  But there is One who sees the fertile, flowing fields within each of us.  Unfortunately, we humans don't gain this sight until we reach a point in our lives where we can no longer keep going on our own power and will.  We can never see this beauty until we are swept up by angels sent from Heaven to carry us to higher place, for the beauty of our fields can only fully be embraced from a bird's-eye view.  We can never see the great work we're capable of doing when we're caught up in pulling the weeds or planting the seeds.  Though these acts are incredibly important as they are multiplied together to create our own little wonder.  I know there is a beauty within all of us that is beyond magnificence, and it is my prayer that everyone might have the blessing of the freedom that comes with a First Class Flight.