I’M HAVING A HIGH SCHOOL MOMENT!

Wow - these last few days have really hit me hard!  Not only have I been really sick, but emotionally I have been experiencing a lot more depression than normal.  I'm wondering if it is because I'm so close to being finished, that I want all of this pain to end.  Now that I realize I am going to have to deal with these symptoms for another 3 weeks in order to get it out of my system, it's harder to be patient than I thought.

I've been thinking lately that we all know we are going to die sometime, but what if we knew that we only had 2 years to live. What would you do differently, or what would you start doing? I have faith that the chemo I am taking right now will kill the cancer I have right now. What I am not sure of, is what will come in its place, especially because I am positive for the BRCA gene 1 (which states that I have an 87% chance of getting breast cancer before I am 70 years old). So basically I have a terminal disease and I will probably die (sometime) from it. I don’t mean to be morbid or anything, I am just being realistic. So if this is the case, what should I be doing with my time?

I began making it a matter of prayer. There are many things I can’t do, but there are many things that I can. Several years ago when we were living in Prescott, I decided to take our old home videos and run them through my video editing machine called an “avio” and edit them and then burn them to DVD’s for each of our children. Craig then helped me type up a table of contents for all the DVD’s so the kids could reference certain events and years at a glance. It has been so well received by all our kids AND our grandchildren. It is so interesting to see how much they like watching “little Amy” or “A week with Grandma”. Since we don’t watch normal TV on Sundays, this is a great time for our kids and grandkids to watch these videos and remember the good times that we had.

What else can I leave for my posterity? I started keeping a journal when I was 18 years old. When I left for BYU, my mom gave me a white journal and challenged me to write my college experiences in it. I soon found that writing was so rewarding to me that I continued keeping a journal throughout the years. I didn’t write every day; just when I was moved to and when something interesting happened. I now have over 35 years of volumes of journals. What will happen to them? Will my kids ever read them? I don’t know, probably not. Amy is the only one that has expressed an interest in reading about when I was a young mother. So when I asked my daughters what they would like me to leave, they said that if I wrote my life history it might serve as an outline of all my journals and might cause them to want to read, “the rest of the story” in my journals.

So the last couple of weeks I have been going through some of my old journals, keepsakes and high school yearbooks. Several years ago I started a measly attempt of my life history and had put down my elementary school teachers and a few things I remembered. Now 30 years later I went back and read what I had written and I’m so happy that I wrote it then, because I have forgotten so much already. I was really impressed when I saw a list my mom and dad had put together of all of their church callings years ago. So that was what I started trying to do from memory. It was impossible. So thanks to my journals I have been able to go back and find out what callings I had and what year I had them. 

It was so interesting to notice the feelings I had as I flipped through my yearbooks. As I looked at all the cheerleaders and prom kings and queens, I thought how I wish I could see what their lives were like today. As I looked at the different pages, I realized that I was not on hardly any pages of the yearbook. I felt like such a loser! Then I read the things all the people wrote on the front and back of my yearbook. Most of them, I couldn’t even remember who they were.

That afternoon after I finished flipping through the yearbook, I realized that I was in a bad mood. Amy called and I told her that I couldn’t quite put a finger on why I was in a bad mood. Then when she found out that I had been having a trip down memory lane she said, “Oh no wonder mom, you are having a high school moment!" All those insecurities and frustrations I felt in High School that seemed so important then, were now resurfacing. It was at that moment that I realized how INSIGNIFICANT HIGH SCHOOL really was! I feel like I am a completely different person now and I feel like I have made a difference in my life and many others, so unlike what I felt in High School.

That night after having a miserable trip down memory lane, I began experiencing pain from another urinary tract infection. I had tried to go to sleep, but I was too uncomfortable. Craig came in and I asked him for a blessing. The night before had been a long and painful one and I didn’t want to experience another night like that. It was so interesting what he said in his blessing. He blessed me that I would be able to sleep well and make it through the pain. But the really interesting thing he said was that I needed to remember that the trials I was going through right now were helping to prepare a place for me in the life hereafter. The minute he said that, I had an epiphany come to my mind. Just like High School has turned out to be so unimportant to the rest of my life, all of a sudden I had this vision of Earth Life. I realized just how insignificant earth life will be in regards to our Eternal Life! I thought of how much importance we stress on the things we do or don’t do, buy or don’t buy while here on earth. And in perspective, it is just as insignificant as rearranging the chairs on the Titantic! What DOES matter in earth life is the way we treat people and handle our trials. Our trials then really become our pre-requisite courses that we have to take in earth life to prepare us for our Graduation into Eternal life. How we handle them is whether we graduate with honors or not. Wow that is profound. It sure helps me look at my trials with a different perspective!!

"Stories on the Sabbath" - Calling for New Stories!

This week for "Stories on the Sabbath", I have decided to invite you to be a part of my next book.   For those of you who don't know, I have had two books published in the past (see side bar of blog).  Last August during BYU Education week, I met with a new publisher and talked to her about re-publishing my old books.  After meeting with their board, we have decided that we may use some of my old stories,  but they would also like me to find new stories.  As we discussed this, we felt like we wanted to go with a "current" theme that would catch people's attention, such as inspiring stories involved with modern technology and other social networks.  At this point we are not sure what direction the book will take, but we wanted to try and see if we could find enough stories to follow this theme. 

In 1948, the most common way for people to get news was through newspapers and radio.  How different the world is today. For many of you, if you read newspapers, the chances are you read them on the Internet. Ours is the world of cyberspace, cell phones that capture video, video and music downloads, social networks, (facebook, twitter, youtube) text messaging and blogs, handhelds and podcasts.

CALLING FOR STORIES... If you  or anyone you know, have had any uplifting or faith promoting experience that has resulted from the internet, facebook, blogs, emails, or any other modern technology, I would like to talk with you about your story and possibly have it published in my next book.  Please email me at micheleromneygarvin@gmail.com or call me at 928-899-3994.

Thanks,

Michele

(Read below for more detailed information)

Members who share their testimonies through the Internet are realizing they can make a difference, one conversation at a time.  You have a great opportunity to be a powerful force for good in the world. There is truth in the old adage that "the pen is mightier than the sword."  In many cases it is with words that you will accomplish the great things that you set out to do. Today we have a modern equivalent of the printing press in the Internet. The Internet allows everyone to be a publisher, to have his or her voice heard, and it is revolutionizing society.   (These are the types of stories that I am looking for in my new book.  It can be something you have done to inspire someone, or if someone has inspired you through modern technology.  It doesn't have to be specifically realated to sharing the gospel, but something you learned through modern technology that has helped change your life or the lives of others for good.  I am looking for stories that are solid and will inspire others for good.  Other stories that might be considred are health related challenges, online dating, geneoloogy, prayer and the holy ghost).

Here is an example of how someone’s personal blog has had an effect on others.  

Lisa Caress of California has always used her blog as a journal and family history record, but she has also begun using it as a method to join the conversation by talking about what the Church means in her day-to-day life. One night at a meeting at her children's school, she and several other women were assembling baskets for a school event when their conversation turned to Lisa's blog.

"One of the women mentioned how much she loved reading my blog because it gave her so many insights about our church," Lisa says. "Three other women chimed in and started practically quoting passages from my blog. They were all fascinated by my post about the April 2008 general conference. I froze in my tracks as I quickly tried to recall what I had written. They asked me about how new prophets were chosen and what a Solemn Assembly was. They wanted to know about Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk 2 and continuing revelation and about Elder M. Russell Ballard's talk 3 and the Church's views on women."

Lisa was surprised by the effect of her small effort, but what surprised her even more, she says, is how respectful and gracious the women were. "They acted like I was doing them a favor by answering their questions." From this experience, Lisa learned the effect that sharing her testimony and her day-to-day experiences as a member of the Church can have. This opened the door for her to answer further questions and share her testimony at the request of her friends. "You never know who is reading," Lisa says. "But truth and sincerity will win the day."

Last Chemo!

I've been on a high the last couple of days.  I'm so grateful that my doctor let me change my chemo day so I could be there for my grandson's birth.  The Lord totally blessed me to feel well enough to be with Amy at the hospital for 12 hours.  What a gift!  Mother and baby are doing fine.  It's hard for me to not be able to go home with her and spend a week like I usually do.  I guess we all are having to grow up faster than we want with this cancer in our lives.  Charlene is flying in on Wednesday to be the "big sister/mom" that I won't be well enough to be for Amy.  It makes me cry to see how much my children love each other and are willing to take over when I can't be there.

Yesterday was my last chemo and I found out that my CA-125 has dropped to 21!  It appears to be continually dropping and is in the normal range (0-35).  It was 686 before my surgery so that is a good sign.  This means that the chemo is killing the cancer right now.  Yesterday I had a weird reaction to the benedryl they gave me by IV.  I felt so drugged I could hardly even talk without slurring and I could hardly keep my eyes open.  Later that afternoon I got a very important phone call from a book publisher and I could hardly talk.  I finally had to explain that I had just had chemo and was experiencing what they call "chemo brain."  I will be glad to have my brain get back to nomal soon!

For a quick synopsis, here is a quick review of my past & future cancer treatment:

I started chemotherapy on Nov. 17, 2011. Normal protocol is 6 chemo treatments with 3 weeks in between, totaling18 weeks.  But I was chosen for a clinical trial and was going to go every week for 18 week.  I was able to go for 12 straight weeks before my neuropathy got so bad that I had to stop for 3 weeks.  When I came back I had 6 weeks to go - but because of the neuropathy I had to stop the weekly trial and change drugs.  So these past 6 weeks I've only had to go 2 times (once every 3 weeks).  So technically I am done with my chemo treatments and will need these next 3 weeks to recuperate.

For maintenance I will come back every 3 weeks and they will take my blood and run a CA-125 test on me.  If my numbers stay in the normal range, I will be given the experiemental drug called Avastin every 3 weeks (it should not make me sick like the chemo drugs have), until the cancer comes back.  If the cancer comes back, I will be taken completely off the maintenance and have to start a completely new regimine of chemo. :-(  Our prayers are that I will be able to be in remission for many years without having to start any chemo again!  I will also be having CAT SCANS once every 3 months for the next 2 years and once every 6 months for 5 years.  Thank you all for your continued love and prayers for me during this time.

New Grandson

Our 10th grandchild was born on March 22, 2012 at 3:02 pm in Orem, Utah. He weighed 7lbs 8oz and was 19.5 inches long. His name is Ryan Stephen Rindlisbacher. He is adorable and we are so happy to welcome him into our extended family! Here are two short videos and some pics for you to enjoy. If we would have known how fun it was to be grandparents.....we would have skipped having kids and gone right to being grandparents.  :-)

Click on these two links to see videos:

Grandparents with Ryan- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ALPwE4PrZ0&feature=channel

Grandma Garvin with Ryan - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNr0WXHSodw


 Amy & Steve Rindlisbacher and little Ryan with 3 older sisters. The fun is just beginning!

                                   

         Ryan Stephen Rindlisbacher

                                                             Proud Grandparents!!

Sunday Dinner and 34th Anniversary

Yesterday, March 18th, was our 34th Anniversary! I can't believe how time flies. We had all of our Utah kids come over to help us celebrate.
We had an interesting experience right after dinner, when Mya (3) came and said that she had a piece of corn stuck up her nose. After doing some investigating with a flashlight and tweezers, we saw the little yellow culprit. However, as Amy delicately dug around for it, it didn't want to come out. The other problem is that Mya has never learned to blow her nose. Whenever you give her a kleenex, she makes the sound but sucks in. So finally after a lot of tears and anguish, Amy retrieved the annoying kernal of corn!

BAD HAIR WEEK! - I've been having a "bad hair" week or in my case a "bad scarf" week. Everyone thinks it's much less of a hassle not having hair, but it is such a pain trying to tie my scarfs so that I don't look like a pirate or a gypsy or arab. So my sweet daughter-in-laws set down with me and we looked at some tutorials on the computer, trying to give me new ideas. Afterwards, my grandchildren decided to help support me by modeling different scarfs. We had fun doing it. Here are some pictures.

Logan and Grandma with Carston (Byron and Tracy's baby)
Grandpa & Grandma with the Utah Grandkids
Grandparents with the Rindilisbacher Girls

Mya, Natalie & Brooke with Grandma

Dan & Kyrstin, Byron & Tracy, Tauna & Carston
Rindlisbacher family minus little brother due in 4 days

Mya looking up at mommy's belly and No Amy didn't swallow a basketball!

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                 The T.V. Clicker

            "Give me the clicker (remote as most people call it) please," I said as I began to clench my teeth.

"No, I'm doing just fine with it," my husband said with a certain air of superiority.  For the next few minutes I once again endured the seasick channel surfing that I so strongly detested.

It was Saturday night and I was exhausted.  It had been a full week and we had just put the children to bed.  It usually takes me longer to say goodnight to all of the kids than it does my husband.

 Finally I finished with the kids and I walked into our bedroom, looking forward to relaxing and watching a nice romantic movie with my husband.  However, my husband Craig had other things in mind.  As I opened the door I was greeted with the sound of Star Trek!  Ugh!  I hated all of those kinds of space-type movies.  I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard him change the channel.  The familiar sound of the sports announcer filled the room.  Football - that was the last thing I wanted to watch!

I went into the bathroom and began brushing my teeth trying to decide what to do.  I heard him change the channel again and I rushed out just in time to see a Clark Gable-type hero bend down and kiss a beautiful woman.  I let out a romantic sigh.

"Honey, this is the movie I was telling you about.  Please can we watch it?"

Craig rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.  For now he relented.  I laid down on the bed next to him and began to relax and enjoy the movie.  But my enjoyment was short-lived when after only a few minutes of watching my chosen movie, it was time for a commercial again. Now we were back to Star Trek and then to football, then a commercial and then football and Star Trek again. 

I was not in the mood for this, so I sweetly asked for the TV clicker.  Craig made no attempts to surrender his control of the TV remote.  Finally I begged him to turn back to my movie, which we watched for only a little while before another commercial came on.  The channel surfing began again.

"Give me that stinkin clicker," I demanded as I reached to grab it from him.

In a playful mood he pulled it away and held it up like a prized possession.  "This TV clicker is like the Priesthood," he said with all the sophistication he could muster. "Only men can hold it!"

"Oh, yeah?" I said as I tackled him, "and they can also lose it if they don't treat it right!"

The evening had started out fun but as time went on, we both got irritated with each other.  I got mad and then said a few things to Craig which made him equally mad.  Before we knew it, we were in a full blown fight.

Finally Craig stood up, tossed the TV clicker on the bed and walked out.

I had won!  Or so I thought.  At last I had the clicker to myself and could finally watch my romantic movie.  I soon realized the movie wasn't any good without my hubby next to me.  I hadn't won after all.  As the night went on, I began to realize how stupid we had been.  Satan had succeeded to get us upset with each other, whether it was over something big or just a stupid TV clicker.  I remembered a quote that James E. Faust had said, "Sometimes in marriage the big things are the little things."

As I lay there thinking, I remembered Robert Millet's talk a few weeks before at Know Your Religion Series where he said that whenever he and his wife were upset with each other, the Spirit left their home.  Oh great, I thought.  The next day was Sunday and Craig and I were going to teach the Gospel Doctrine class together.  Monday was the first day of school and Craig had planned to give each of our children a Father's blessings before they went to bed.  I knew both of us needed the Spirit and realized neither of us could do what was required of us unless we made up.

The movie was over and I could hear Craig locking up for the night.  Even though I knew I should apologize, I got scared.  I heard his hand reach for the door knob and so I quickly jumped off the bed and pretended like I was praying.  He went into the bathroom and started brushing his teeth.  Since I was down in the position, I decided that I needed the Lord's help in this matter.  I prayed that he would help us make up.

When Craig came to bed, he offered our couple prayer. He didn't even mention anything about our being upset with each other.  Maybe he wasn't mad after all.  But once we got in bed, I could feel his coldness and I knew differently.  I tried to make myself say something to him, but nothing would come out.  Several times I tried to force my hand to make that long journey over to his side of the bed, but it wouldn't move.

Then I started thinking, "Hey wait a minute here, whose fault was this anyway?  If he wouldn't have been so fat-headed about the TV clicker, we wouldn't be mad at each other now." 

I rolled over and decided that he needed to make the first attempt and when he did, I would forgive him.  But as I lay there, sleep would not come.  The quote from President Benson seemed to haunt me.  "PRIDE is concerned with WHO is right, HUMILITY is concerned with WHAT is right. When we humble ourselves, the Spirit will always tell us WHAT is right."

I finally rolled over and put my hand on his.  He squeezed it back.  My cold heart swelled with love for him once again. 

"I'm sorry for being a pain tonight," I said, barely speaking loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm sorry too," he said.

I reached over and kissed him and then whispered, "But not really!"  We looked at each other and burst out laughing.  The tension was gone and as we began talking about what had happened that night, we realized how stupid the whole fight had been.

As the years have gone by since that experience, I've often reflected at how easy it is to lose the Spirit in any given situation.  I've learned how imperative it is, especially as parents to have that spirit in our homes.  I think of all the service that we do as parents, in raising our children and running the house hold and keeping the home fires burning; if we accomplish all of these things, but we do it without the Spirit, we are just going through the motions and nothing more.

In order to truly offer ourselves up as humble servants to the Lord as parents to His children; we must keep contention out of our relationships and our home.  I think the greatest service we can give to our children is parents who love one another and have the Spirit in their home. 

You know, it's amazing how interesting football or even space-type movies can get when you take a minute to learn what's going on!     

                                         --Michele R. Garvin, wife and mother of five (over 15 years ago)

                                                                        (Out of Small Things)

                                    

I looked out the window.....and what did I see?

We love living in Lindon, Utah.  Our back yard is a mountain and it has deer that come out all the time.  We have been so amazed at how tame they are.  They walk right into our back yard and down the street.  It blows us away.  The other night we were sitting at our kitchen table eating dinner and we looked out the window.... and there was a deer close enough to video.  So here you go.



A Birthday Tribute to my Sister - Bearing One Another's Burdens!

I want to pay tribute to my dear Sister Shawna.  It is her 62^nd birthday today.  She is an amazing person and has so many Christ like traits.  She is a wonderful sister, daughter, wife and mother of 10 children.  Her life has been that of sacrifice as she has worked to raise a righteous posterity unto the Lord.  She and her husband Norm Jackson have only one child left in their nest now.  Shawna is loved by so many and has blessed many lives in her neighborhood and ward throughout her life.  Yet if asked, she would not think that she has made much of a difference.  Her silent strength of serving and enduring is an example of humility in and of itself.

Shawna has had Parkinson’s disease for about two years.  Her symptoms have gradually gotten worse.  She has come to the point where she feels embarrassed going out in public because she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself.  Every one of us will be given trials that can debilitate us unless we turn to the Lord for strength to endure.  To me Shawna is an example of this.

This last Sunday Shawna went to church by herself.  Her husband was out of town, but she pushed herself to be where she knew she should be.  As she entered the chapel, she sat at the very back on folding chairs by herself.  It wasn’t long before a family came and asked if they could sit by her.  She indicated they could.  As the time for the sacrament approached Shawna’s nerves began to get the best of her and she started shaking really bad.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to take the sacrament without a lot of stress.  I don’t know if she prayed for courage or what, but she leaned over to the father who was sitting closest to her.  She whispered that she was having an especially hard morning and was wondering if he would help her take the water.  He put his hand towards his lips and tilted his head as if asking if this is the help she needed.  She shook her head yes.  When the bread came, she was able to take it by herself.  Then when the water came, the father reached over and ever so reverently took a cup of our Lord’s emblems and raised it to Shawna’s lips.  She drank it and smiled at him.  He winked at her as if saying, “We did it!”  After sacrament meeting, Shawna went over to this family and told his wife how much she appreciated her husband helping her take  the sacrament.  He quickly chimed in, “It was an Honor!”

What does it mean to bear one another’s burdens?  Does it just mean to help those that you know and are comfortable helping?  Or does it mean to reach out of your comfort zone and really make a difference to someone who really needs your help, but is too embarrassed to ask?  I don’t know where it starts, but society and the church seems like it has gotten to the point that we are willing to help our fellowman when it is not awkward or uncomfortable. 

But wait, maybe we are selling our fellowman short.  Maybe the reason we don’t help is because we don’t know what to do.  If that’s the case we all need a lesson in ASKING for help, just like Shawna.  When we ask, we become vulnerable to another person, whether it is a friend or stranger.  When we do that, we immediately take away the hidden barrier and allow the miracle of service to change two lives.

It took a lot of courage for Shawna to do what she did.  I think she will find that the more people she opens up to, the less isolated she will feel and the more love and compassion she will receive.  The more we reach out to each other, the more we all can heal together.  The church is a hospital for sinners and those with physical and emotional ailments too.  If each of our sins, sorrows, pains and diseases gave off an odor like cigarettes did, OUR CHAPEL WOULD BE ONE STINKY PLACE!!  We all have trials in one way or another.  We need each other to survive them!  It is my hope that we can all be humble enough to ask for help like my sister did, and to offer help when we see a need.  There are so many good people who desire to serve, but service is a two way street.  You have to have a giver and a receiver.  At one time or another in our lives we need to be both.  Thank you Shawna for teaching us this principle through your sweet example.  I love you.  Happy Birthday! 

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                     Anna’s Mission

“We think your daughter has what is called ‘Down Syndrome’,” the doctor said to me as calmly as he could.  I remember thinking that I had heard this phrase before, and I was fully aware that it had to do with retardation.  But my reaction was surprising to me. 

“I’d like to know everything I can about this condition,” I said as I questioned the doctor.  After a short, but informative discussion with the pediatrician, I was left alone to myself.  It was then that I realized I needed to call and share this news with my husband, Kenny.

Anna Elizabeth Stewart had been born on December 13, 1980 almost two weeks before Christmas (when her actual “due” date had been) and brought a great deal of excitement into our home.  She was our third child, having one older brother and sister.  We lived in the Las Vegas West Stake at the time, which now makes up three different stakes.  Because of the rapid growth in this area, our ward was filled with young families with babies being born left and right.  But strangely enough, Anna was the first handicapped child born into our area.  So this experience was “new” for just about everyone we knew.

When Anna was born, I remember thinking how much she looked like her older sister Valerie and how beautiful she was.  To this day, her baby picture is the prettiest of all the kids!  After she was born, the nurse had whisked her away very quickly.  I remember thinking that this was a bit odd, but I was so tired I figured I would see her later.  Besides, the doctor and nurse never indicated that there might be anything wrong.  When my pediatrician finally came in to talk to me about Anna’s condition, all the hubbub had subsided and my husband  had already gone home for the evening. 
My previous conversation with the doctor lingered in my mind, and my hands began to shake as I dialed the phone.  I wondered how Kenny would react to the news.  When he answered, my voice began to shake.

“Kenny, the doctor just left and he said that Anna has Down Syndrome.”  I tried to break the news to him as “in control” as I could, but I must not have sounded very good because of his next response.

“I’ll be right there, Diann,” he immediately replied.

“Honey, there isn’t anything you can do tonight.  I will be all right.”

But he insisted.  “I’m coming down anyway.”

It’s the first time I ever remember seeing him cry.  With his head in my lap, we cried together, and then he shared his feelings with me.

“I’m not crying because Anna is retarded or handicapped.  I just don’t ever want any of my children to not have the same advantages that the others have.” 
So right then and there we decided that Anna would not be treated any different than our other children, if at all possible. 

As the years went on, Anna began to grow and progress.  We were amazed at the ability she had to keep up with our other children.  In fact, she was every bit as coordinated as any normal child.  When we enrolled her in a special school for Down Syndrome children, the teacher’s sat back in amazement.  These types of children are usually born to older couples with no other siblings.  The children that they usually had at their schools, were very apprehensive to try anything.

One day after Anna had started school there, they brought out a mini-trampoline.  The teacher began talking to the children about what they would be doing on the tramp.  Fear filled each of the other children’s eyes, but not Anna’s.  She jumped up with excitement and ran over to the tramp and began jumping vigorously.  With smiles on the children’s faces, they followed in her footsteps.  Numerous times throughout the years,  Anna’s teacher have commented on what a valuable asset she is to their school.  Because of having been raised in a normal home like a normal child, Anna has had an incredible effect on all of the other children in the school.  Her service to them has been immeasurable.

In looking back, I don’t ever remember feeling like I didn’t want Anna.  She was so beautiful, and so tiny - weighing only 5 lbs. 15 oz.- and we both loved her instantly.  Before we left the hospital Kenny and his father, Delbert Stewart, came down to the hospital.  Standing by the side of the hospital bed, I watched as these two huge men took that sweet little angel in their massive hands, and gave her a priesthood blessing.  It was one of the most precious experiences I have ever witnessed.  I have been pretty much at peace with the whole situation ever since.

The support we received from family was tremendous.  Everyone we phoned or spoke with was so sweet and seemed to have nothing but positive advice and counsel for us.  Even the hospital was supportive - because the morning after Anna was born I had visitors from the hospital who offered advice and counsel.  They gave me information about the Down Syndrome Organization of Southern Nevada, and names and phone numbers of people I could call for help that was very helpful later.  I was even visited by a mother of a Down Syndrome child, who just came to answer any question I might have concerning Anna.  That was so wonderful to be able to confide in another woman who had experienced some of the same things I would be going through.

I was also amazed at the support I received from the members of our ward.  I would venture to say that we received more gifts for Anna than we had at either of the baby showers for our other two children.  But at the same time, everyone’s reactions were guarded and hesitant.  While they were comfortable in showering us with gifts, it was almost as if the were uncomfortable around the baby and seemed  paralyzed as to how to express their feelings.  After a while I began to notice that people would stammer and not really know what to say.  I finally decided I needed to do something about it, because I didn’t want everyone to be so uneasy and nervous around us.

When fast and testimony rolled around the next time,  I walked up to the pulpit to share my feelings.  With all eyes on me, I began.

“Brothers and Sisters, we have been overwhelmed with the outpouring of love we have received during these last few weeks.  We appreciate all the meals and the gifts that you have given us and we want you to know how much each of these gestures have meant to us.”

I could see the usual smiles on everyone’s faces, but underneath I still detected the fear they had of not  knowing what to say.  So I continued.

“Ken and I want each of you to know how excited we are to have Anna in our home.  We love her just as much as we love our other two children and we are so pleased that she has come to join our family.  Please come up and look at her, just like you would any other baby.  She is beautiful!  I also hope that you would feel free to ask any questions you might have about her.  Please dote over her with me, because I certainly would with you.”
As I walked down the isle to my seat, I felt a sense of relief from the members of the ward.  Because of their ignorance on this subject, they had not known how to share in our joy.  Well, that was the ice breaker.  After that we were flooded with well-wishers and everyone was so wonderful and attentive to Anna.  The difference was like night and day.  So many people expressed their thanks for my candidness.  They admitted that they hadn’t known what to say and they were grateful that I had broken the ice for them.  It was the turning point for most everyone in our ward and the service and love they rendered to Anna has never stopped.

We have felt so blessed to have Anna in our home and have learned so much as each year passes.  Her presence has been such a blessing and growing experience to us.  As the years go on, we are still amazed at how sweet everyone is to her.  We can’t count the times when we had someone bring her to us because she had walked in on another sacrament meeting and brightened everyone’s day by walking up on the stage and running from whomever tried to get her - then laughing as she was carried out - with us thinking she was in her class all the while.  The sacrifices of others who agreed to be her teacher in Primary on a one-on-one basis, and who tried to learn about her so she would be edified.  The family and friends who have given so much of their time and patience to her and our family will be forever appreciated.

  We can hardly wait as we envision the day we will be able to talk and visit with Anna in the hereafter when she is not handicapped any longer.  Even her three sisters and two brothers are all excited and look forward to the choice experience this will be.  Anna has taught each of us how to serve, but more importantly, she instead has served us.  Her unconditional love and Christlike faith she has in everyone has certainly been an example for us to follow.   The simple fact that Anna is a candidate of the Celestial Kingdom gives us all something to look forward to.  Because we all want to be where she already has the assurance of going, we try and pattern our lives after her Christlike love and service, so that we can live together in the presence of our Heavenly Father.  I firmly believe that it was Anna’s mission to come down to earth and teach others how to serve.

          
                           --Diann Stewart, recently released as Relief Society President, when 

                                                                    husband was made Bishop

                                                                   (By Small & Simple Things)

Pampering Time!

One of the bennefits of having cancer is being pampered by your grand daughters! This last week I about went stir crazy being sick for so long, so Amy invited us over for dinner and for a massage and pedicure. I didn't realize how lucky I was until I was basically attacked by these 3 cute little girls.

Good thing I had 2 feet and 2 arms, so that each one could have their own domain. I think we ended up using half the bottle of cream, but hey my legs and arms are now silky smooth. I could probably do well as part of a "Oil of Ole" commercial!

                                            I feel so loved. It's so fun to have grand daughters!!!!

In 13 days these girls will have a new little brother. We are all so excited. I scheduled my last chemo treatment on Friday March 23rd so I could be at the birth on the 22nd!

I thought it was especially cute the conversation I had with 3 year old Mya (the one sitting on the couch).

Mya: "Grandma is you still sick?"

Me: "Yes I am honey."
Mya: "When ya gonna det better?"
Me: "Hopefully after I'm finished with all my treatments"
Mya: "How many more do you have, two or three?"
Me: "Two".
Mya: "Dats good, cause when ya done with dose things, den that means you have no more cancer."
Me: "I sure hope so honey!"

I was so amazed at how in touch she was with what is happening in my life. Who says that cancer doesn't affect everyone!

P.S. This spoiling for me came at a good time, because just as I got over the dizziness and sickness from the chemo, I got another UTI - Urinary Tract Infection and a cold sore! Man, it seems like I am being plagued with a bunch of stuff lately. Oh well, I only have a few more weeks to go through this. Incidentally, in this short week, I've lost my taste buds already! The interesting thing this time is that my tongue is so sore, that pretty much everything I eat hurts and tastes bad. Yippee - the fun side effects of Chemo! Sorry to dump all of this on you - but hey, if you didn't want to hear my ups and downs, you wouldn't be reading this blog!

I've lost something.......my eyebrows!

This last week has been long and I'm glad it's over.  I was sick and dizzy for a full 7 days.  When I am really sick, I don't bother to do my make-up or even wear a wig or scarf.  I just wear a beanie and my kids call me their "homeless mom".  Yes, I have to admit that I do look pretty terrible.  But this last week as I would look in the mirror, I would think, "Wow Michele, you look worse than normal!"  I couldn't put my finger on why I looked extra bad, until Tauna came to visit and said, "Mom, there are eyelashes all over your face."  Then she looked and again and said, "and your eyebrows are almost gone too."  So that was it huh?! 

So I decided to go check myself out in the mirror, but this time I decided to put my glasses on.  WOW!  That was scary!  It's so amazing how a person's face almost goes away without hair, eyebrows and eyelashes.  Here I am with my newly painted on eyebrows and eyelashes and part of my bald head. (Don't look too close, I'm still learning). I try to start drawing on my brows, but I can't see without my glasses.  So I put my glasses on and try and draw, but my glasses on in the way!  Ugh. I can tell that I am going to need a lot of practice!

I knew that losing my eyebrows and eyelashes were the next step, but I wasn't sure when it would happen.  I guess I'm going to have to get used to this process for quite awhile.  I was reading on a lady's blog where she said that even after chemo her eyebrows and eyelashes fell out again.  Oh great!  Below are a few of her comments from her blog:

"As you all know I had the chemo and in the process lost all my hair, eyebrows, eyelashes etc. Then within 3 months of finishing the treatment they had grown back. Well, it's now 5 months since I finished chemo and my eyebrows and eyelashes are falling out all over again! At first when a few of each fell out I hoped it was just some freaky coincidence and that would be the end of it. However it's now a week later, and they are both still coming out in large numbers. So, having had no indication from the hospital that the chemo could cause this reaction months after finishing treatment, I turned to the internet to see if anyone else out there has experienced a similar thing. And yes, it turns out that this can be a side-effect, and that for several years after chemotherapy your eyelashes and eyebrows can continue to fall out cyclically. I couldn't believe it! Let this be a warning for anyone who has treatment, or knows someone who is - eyelashes and eyebrows may not be as permanent as you expect when they grow back after finishing chemotherapy! However, I'm prepared now that anything new that grows may well be falling out again in just a few months time..."

So it should be interesting to see what happens with me.  Oh well, I guess you win some and you LOSE some!!!!

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                        Ministers of Christ

It had been a stressful Sabbath!  As I pulled into the garage after church, I dreaded going into the house and facing the rest of the day alone with the kids.  Today had started out like any normal Sunday, but as the morning went on I could feel Satan’s attempt at trying to discourage me.  As a mother of five, there are times that I feel I will never have a moment to myself.  I had really desired that morning to be able to sit down and read a few articles that my sister had suggested from the Ensign.  But that never happened.

As second counselor in the Bishopric, my husband had already been gone for almost four hours.  Our ward had just moved to a new building while our old chapel was being renovated and that also meant changing from 9:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. for our block of meetings.  You’d think that we would be extra earlier, but that was not the case. There had been quite a bit of contention between the children that morning about who was going to sit in the front seat and anything else they could think of.  We had put off the last minute things, and soon realized that if we didn’t leave right then we were going to be late.  Quickly, we had family prayer and went to get in the van to leave.  As I tried to turn the key over, the battery was dead!  We had ten minutes to make a twenty minute drive to get to church. 
My oldest daughter suggested that we take her car.  Trying not to lose my temper, all six of us piled into her tiny Nissan and made our journey to the new chapel.  As we walked in, I could see that my husband was conducting.  Thank goodness there were no seats in the front of the chapel so that I wouldn’t have to meet his condemning stares.  I knew there was no excuse for being late!  We found our seats and tried to calm ourselves from the frantic morning.  The opening song was announced and as I reached for a hymn book, I remembered in horror that I had been asked to lead the music!  As the music began playing, I looked around to see if they had asked anyone else to lead the music.  I could see no one else getting up.  The music continued playing and I finally stood and motioned to the bishopric to see if they still wanted me to lead.  Nodding their heads, I quickly made my way from the back of the cultural hall just in time to lead the beginning phrase.  Talk about stress!

What a day I had already had, and now my husband had to stay after church for more meetings.  Again I felt that overwhelming feeling come over me as we pulled into the garage and piled out of the car.  Inwardly I chastised myself for feeling this way.  I knew that my husband was about our Father’s business, how could I complain? It was just that Sundays seemed so lonely.  I knew what he was doing was important, but what about me?  When would I be able to serve my fellow men?

We hadn’t been home very long when the phone rang.  “Mom, it’s for you,” one of my children yelled from the kitchen.

“I’ll get it in here,” I said as I walked into my bedroom.

“Hello, Michele this is Jamie from next door.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” I said, noting a peculiar tone in her voice.      

            “I’m fine, but I’m not at home, I’m at work.  We have a problem and we’re wondering if maybe you or your husband might be able to help us out.”
           “Sure, what can we do for you?” I said, remembering that she worked as a nurse at one of the local hospitals.

“There is a family here that is really upset.  Their father just came in through the Emergency Room and just passed away.  They were not expecting it and are taking it really hard.  They have requested someone to come pray with them, but because it is Sunday we have not been able to find anyone.  Do you think that Craig might be able to come down and help them out?”

“I’m sure he would be happy to, but he is still at church and I don’t know how long he will be.”

 I could hear the disappointment in her voice.  I thought for a moment and then said, “Would it be alright if I came down and prayed with them?”

“Are you kidding?  You would do that?” she said with surprise in her voice.

“I’d love to!”

“You’d love to?” she said repeating my words as if to let the others in the room know how our conversation was progressing.

“Yes, I’d be honored to,” I said.

“You know when they couldn’t find anyone to pray with them, I immediately thought of you and your husband.  Let me have you talk to the nursing supervisor and she will tell you where to come.  Thank you so much for doing this.”

After I hung up the phone, I grabbed my purse and told my children about the call and then left for the hospital.  I bowed my head and offered a prayer asking Heavenly Father to bless me to know what to say and how to comfort this family.  I also asked Him for the ability to say the right things.  As I drove to the hospital I felt such peace. I realized that partly it was from being away from my noisy children and partly from being about my Father’s business and having the opportunity to serve my fellow men.

As I waited in the lobby of the hospital, I began to be filled with anxiety.  Would I know the right things to say to this family?  How could I be of comfort to them when I have never lost someone close to me?  What should I say in the prayer?

Just then a woman dressed in white walked by me and smiled.  “Are you a minister?”She asked me.

“Uh... no I’m not,” I said as her comment totally caught me off guard.  “I’m a Christian though,” I said as I stammered a reply.  “I’m a Mormon and have come to pray with this family and try and offer them comfort.”

“Oh, that is so nice of you to come,” she said.  “They’ve called everyone and can’t find anyone who is available today.”

She smiled as she left, but I was filled with fear!  A minister!  Is that who they want?  Oh no, I never should have volunteered.  The longer I waited, the more I wanted to leave.  I felt like I was an imposter.  How could I give this family comfort?  I wasn’t even trained to do this!  Maybe I should have waited for my husband.  I don’t even have the priesthood.  Just when I was about to talk myself out of this Christian act, Donna the nursing surpervisor arrived. 
“Are you Michele?” she asked as she stretched forth her hand.

“Yes, I am,” I said somewhat relieved she had appeared.

“We just can’t thank you enough for coming down to do this today.  Come with me.”

We walked down the corridor leading to the Emergency Room.  She typed in a code that gave us access to the room.  My heart began beating harder and harder.  Donna introduced me to Mary, the charge nurse.

Mary showered me with the same kind of appreciation as she took me down another hall.  “I know the family will be so appreciative.  They have been so grief stricken.  When they left, they insisted that someone give him his “last rights” before the coroner came.”

I stopped dead in my tracks!  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  “You mean the family is not here,” I asked filled with trepidation?

“No, they left a little while ago.  They went to their hotel to begin making the arrangements and a few more phone calls.”

I was dying inside!  I was totally in over my head.  There was no way I could do what was being asked of me.  I felt like an imposter.  That lady had been right.  What they needed was a minister and that I was not!

By this time we had come to the room where the lifeless man lay behind the drawn curtain.  Mary started to pull back the curtain, but I stopped her.  “Mary, I’m not a minister,” I said wanting to make sure I didn’t appear to be something that I wasn’t, “I’m just a Christian.”

“That’s fine,” she said, not the least bit concerned.

Still not feeling totally sure what I should do I said, “Do you know what religion they are?”
“They are Protestant,” she said, “but I don’t think they are practicing ones.”

           Still stalling I continued, “Well, I was hoping to be able to pray with the family and maybe offer them some comforting words.”

“They were mainly concerned about their father.  They wanted to make sure that someone prayed over his soul.”

“You mean what they want is just a last prayer for his well-being?” I asked not knowing exactly what ministers did when they gave people their last rites.

“Yes that’s all they wanted, just someone who could pray for him.  We’ve tried everyone and we can’t seem to get a hold of anyone.”

I thought to myself, “Well, I do know how to pray.  At least that I do know.”  I drew in a deep breath and said, “That will be fine.”

She pulled back the curtain and then left me alone with the man.  There on the table lay the body of a withered, 85 year old man.  I had never been around a deceased person so soon after their death.  Fearfully, I looked around the room almost expecting to see his spirit hovering above his body, but I didn’t see anything.  I walked over to his body and gently place my hand on his cheek.  What a sweet old man.  He was someone’s father and from what I could tell, would be deeply missed.  I couldn’t help but think of my own father who was only six years younger than this man.  If I didn’t have the gospel, I too probably would have wanted someone to come and pray for him.  I bowed my head and reverently began my prayer.

As I walked out of the room, I felt a sweet genuine satisfaction.  Both nurses thanked me again profusely and took my name and address so the family could contact me if they desired.  Walking down the halls of the hospital, I saw people coming in and out of rooms.  I couldn’t help but be amazed that no one there felt like they could offer a prayer for this man.  I was filled with deep gratitude that I had been taught how to pray. 

However, on the way home I began struggling with the fact that I didn’t hold the priesthood.  I hoped that I hadn’t overstepped my bounds.  Maybe I shouldn’t have gone, but waited for Craig to come instead.  Then I realized that the man wasn’t a member of our church and it really didn’t matter who prayed for him.  Did I need a special type of authority to pray for my fellow man?  No I didn’t.

I once again thought of the question the woman had asked me and then recalled my instant reply.  Are you a minister?  No I’m not!  The more I thought about it, the more I realized how wrong I was.  In 2 Corinthians 11:23 it reads, “Are they ministers of Christ?  (I speak as a fool) So am I; in labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft.”  Today I realized that I am a minister of Christ and so is every one of Heavenly Father’s children.  We just need to be made more aware of it. 

The closer I got to home I began to dread the constant needs of my family.  Suddenly I felt a sting in my heart as I realized the joy I felt while serving others, in contrast to the negative feelings I had because of the constant barrage of requests from my children.  Here I was surrounded by the most important people I could ever minister unto, and yet I was looking elsewhere to minister.

That night as I shared this experience with my family, I tried to look at each one of my children with different eyes.  As I sat down with my eight-year-old and helped him pass off some of his achievements toward his “Wolf”, I felt that same sweet feeling I had felt at the hospital return.  When I lay down with my seven-year-old to read to her and then tickle her back and sing, “I am a Child of God,” I was further blessed.  Then feeling somewhat satisfied by my actions, I sat down and picked up the Ensign to once again try and read those desired articles.  I looked up to see my seventeen-year-old daughter standing above me.

“Mom, can we talk?” 

Quietly I put the Ensign down.  It could wait.  There was still more ministering that needed to be done.  I had been blessed with a new vision.  I may not totally change overnight, but I will continue to try and become better.  For I have realized that every act of service I do at home is just as important, if not MORE important than anything I can do outside of the home.  Yes, I am a minister of Christ to every one of God’s children, but especially to the ones he has entrusted with me at this time.     

                           --Michele Romney Garvin, mother of five (15 years ago)

                                                            (Out of Small Things)