How to be an Answer to Prayer

Question: “Emily, how are you doing?”

Usual answer: “I’m actually okay…”

Longer more complete answer:

My friend Kristen called to wish me Happy Birthday and ask about our usual birthday lunch date. We talked about Laura and how I’m having a hard time being away from her for any amount of time and somehow Linc came up and I told her that “yeah, I’ve been gone a lot and I’ve been pretty worried about him”. At first my niece was around but she went home, and Gabe is also around but he doesn’t help Linc with school. I told her I had just been thinking I needed to find someone to tutor him. “I’ll come over today, bring lunch for you and Laura, and help Lincoln get his school work done.” She came that day, and again two days later, and has come twice a week ever since. She wont let me pay her and she wont stop coming, and Linc LOVES IT and loves her!

A friend walked in the morning after a hard day with Laura in the hospital to hug me and see how she could help me. The cleaning ladies had just arrived and after talking for a minute she said “Do you need help cleaning up for the cleaning ladies” I said “yes, actually…” and she walked in the kitchen and washed a pile of dishes while I cleaned away everything else the boys had left all over the place.

Multiple friends stopped by and brought treats on my birthday. One stayed and chatted with me and gave advice on being a caregiver when someone you love has cancer. (She told me to find something creative to do for myself and here we are. Back on the ol’ Blog.)

A friend insisted on bringing dinner and when she brought it into the messy kitchen, she started helping me tidy up while letting me talk.

Laura’s friend offered to do my laundry but I wouldn’t let her. {But she was serious and would have really picked it up, like she has been doing for Laura, and brought it back folded. She was serious!}

A friend sent an Edible Arrangement from Utah, let me come stay at her house for four nights with twelve hours notice, cooked me delicious meals, watched Rom-Coms with me, and also calls regularly to check in.

A friend has made multiple batches of cookies and protein bites for Laura and I. Plus she brought me a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs.

Two different friends called at the exact right time on different days when I need someone to let me sob to them over the phone. Other friends have called just to check on me and offer their love, support, and help.

My sisters who aren’t local regularly check on me.

Friends have reached out on-line to say they are thinking of me.

People I’ve never met, who follow my Book account on Instagram, have FASTED AND PRAYED FOR MY SISTER!!! (This one is very crazy and humbling to me.)

Several friends have brought dinner for my family. Delicious meals my boys have loved.

Several friends have brought treats, flowers, cards and chocolate.

A friend has been taking Lincoln for a weekly playdate.

People have given my kids rides to and from church activities and school.

A friend called at the exact time I needed her and took Gray to his orthopedic appointment to get a splint while I rushed to the hospital to be with Doug.

Seemingly millions of friends have prayed for me…

And people keep asking if I’m okay!

I’m probably not. 

But I’m doing a lot better than I have any right to be and I am so so so very grateful for the shower of tender mercies I’ve experienced in the last few weeks.

Thank you to all of you. I’m sure I’ve forgotten several kind things in my exhaustion and brain fog. But every single thing has been recorded in heaven and all of you kind people out there are getting straight in through the pearly gates. No questions asked!!

And don’t even get me started on the kind things being done for Laura. 

There is so much goodness in the world. And I am so so grateful!!

Terribly Incoherent Thoughts on Learning Lessons

 Sun March 2nd Brandons Bday

I had nightmares again last night   

I have had nightmares approximately three times. The night I found out Laura had a mass, the night I found out the mass was cancer, and last night. 

I feel like every other night I'm not dreaming at all—too exhausted. 

But I stayed up late last night working on the ”Bread Reel” (Gabe told me he didn’t watch the whole thing--not engaging enough…) and today I slept late and was just being woken by my bladder when Linc burst in. 

—

When Lincoln thinks I've slept enough, whenever that is, he bursts into my room. He doesn’t peek in, he throws open the door loudly and dramatically and stands in the doorway staring at me. A lot of the time I am already awake. But today I was just barely awake and cranky from being up until 2. 

“Lincoln! Go out and close my door!”

“Um, okay but it’s 10:00 Mom”

If I’d had a shoe, I would've thrown it.

The other day I saw a Reel that asked a series of questions: “If you ask God for patience, does he just give it to you? Or does he put you in positions where you can learn patience? 

It's like God is telling me with Lincoln: I gave you four different boys and 1 million opportunities to learn patience and it didn't take. So here you go, I'll give you one more boy and several billion more chances. Do you think you can learn patience this time?

Speaking of learning lessons, Karie and I used to tease Laura relentlessly. “Hey Laura, maybe if you could learn to accept help/delegate responsibilities/not take on too much/ask for help…{fill in the blank} you wouldn’t need God to keep teaching you the same lesson over and over again by giving you hard callings! And back problems! And Crohn's Disease!! And {fill in the blank. Laura has been through a LOT of hard stuff}.” 

Well, we are brats and Laura has learned her lesson(s). She is not only accepting help, she’s asking for it freely. She not only started delegating her church responsibilities, but she did it of her own free will and choice—willingly and happily.

She actually ASKED TO BE RELEASED FROM HER CALLING! I’ll tell you what, that gave us all a bit of a start. But at least maybe now she can be done learning, right God? She’s finally asking for help! Can she catch a break now?! Can things go back to how they were when we played card games at my kitchen table on January 15th? When life was normal? Please??

{In case they can’t, I’m going to try to co-opt her lessons. I’m going to try to learn all the things along with her so I don’t have to learn them first hand. I’m bad at pain. Please don’t let anyone else I know get cancer!}

—

Later: I’m afraid after church I did further damage to my sleep schedule by taking a nap. Usually I have no sleep schedule and I’m a hot mess. But it’s gotten pretty regular since Laura got sick. When she was on steroids and barely sleeping, I’d leave her house around 10 and go home and I’d be too tired to stay awake for more than an hour or two and end up going to bed at a reasonable time. I was getting a solid 8 hours every night and usually between 11:30-7:30. Which is crazy for me!

But the last few days, she’s been so tired that I’ve been going to her house later in the day and leaving earlier at night. Which means I’m sleeping later. Which means at night I’m not as tired and I stay up later. It’s after 11 and here I am journalling instead of sleeping. Dang it.

Some lessons are so so hard to learn! I need to go to bed!!

It actually took me 30 minutes to get ready…

I got home Valentines night and couldn’t quit worrying about Jeff and Laura. I texted Laura pretty late about IG posts and got a response at 1:22 am. So I texted back and said “Do you want me to drive to Utah with you both? I’m worried about you. I can pack in 15 minutes and be ready to go in the morning any time.”

At 1:32am she said “Oh my goodness that you would even be willing to. Sleep and we’ll talk in the morning. I feel like your lil family could use a break from this and their mama all to themselves for the days we’re gone.”

In the morning we compromised and I came with them bringing Lincoln with me. 

A few minutes in to the trip I inwardly panicked a little. Felt suddenly very scary to be driving away from my home, not in my own car, without Doug and without control of my movements.

I told myself “I have Xanax in my travel pill box if necessary.” And then I told myself I wouldn’t be able to help Jeff drive if I took it. But it turns out it only had to serve it’s regular function: Telling my brain it would be there just in case without actually being ingested. (Also, Jeff never did let me drive.)

The trip took allllll day. But Linc was so so great in the car. Happy to read his book and play games on the iPad.

We got to stop in St George and meet the woman who sells the “Salty.” sweatshirts Michelle W. sent us. We bought a bunch more from her and got back on the road. It was emotional for Laura and things started to go down hill a little after that. Laura started feeling uncomfortable and was getting pretty sick the last hour and a half. But we made it to Julie’s and got Laura squared away and Ruth and Scott picked me up and took me to their house and I was so so glad I got in the car. It seems I need to keep Laura close but it turns out I also need some Ruth time.

Glad I came.

Swedish Death Cleaning on Valentines Day

Good news! I did a load of laundry! Well actually, Grayson started the load but did it wrong somehow (Delicate cycle I think) so when I went to switch it none of the soap was dissolved. So I re-washed it and then I guess at some point Doug switched it to the dryer and the point is…I have my Vuori joggers back.

Soft, clean, stretchy, low maintenance. No self-respecting Social Media Manager of a person with glioblastoma grade 4 wants to lounge on the couch all day eating brownies and…wearing jeans. That would be insane. 

I thought things were off to a great start today because 1. V-day 2. Doug made me Avocado toast for breakfast 3. I had a free morning while Karie and Laura ran errands. (And don’t forget 4. Clean pants) 

But it turns out I don’t know how to be a normal, functional human anymore. Or at least, I can’t snap back into the role all that quickly. The ADHD has been severely ramped up. 

I got a call from Max. He was making a Flourless Chocolate Cake and asked a question about the recipe. All of a sudden I thought, since I had some spare time, maybe *I* should make one too! (I have cooked exactly once in 4 weeks.) I got out the pan, found the Crisco and greased the pan, went to look for the almond flour, couldn’t find it, cleaned some old food out of the freezer, looked in the cupboard, organized the cupboard but still couldn’t find it, got distracted and answered a few texts, looked at Laura’s MealTrain, used the restroom, aaaannnddd…then went back to Laura’s house. Leaving a greased spring form pan for Doug to clean up. Sorry Doug.

During the afternoon, Karie and I—with Laura directing—did a lot of cleaning and organizing. We cleaned out a lot of stuff from the upstairs rooms and organized some of it into the Laundry Room/Office downstairs. All part of Laura’s continued effort to Swedish Death Clean (which started weeks before all this chaos started) and get her house in order.

Later, the six of us (Karie/Todd, Laura/Jeff, Doug/I) had Cardiff Crack Sandwiches after several different iterations of Valentines Dinner Out didn’t happen. This option ended up being easy and delicious but half way through the meal, Jeff broke down and started crying. That set Laura off and she ended up full on sobbing. So basically, there were a lot of tears today. But not from me. I kept mine shoved down.

The first rule of Cancer Club: Everyone can’t cry at the same time.

Happy Valentines Day

Self-Care in a Time of Cholera

Er, Cancer. Not mine, Laura’s.

Every single day lately somebody asks me how I’m doing. (Sometimes a lot of somebodies ask.) And I usually answer that I’m actually doing pretty well!

And it’s true! There are moments (minutes) of staring into the proverbial void and screaming (in my mind), and moments (minutes) of sobbing uncontrollably, but that constitutes only about 2% of my waking hours.

I’m mostly doing pretty dang good all things considered (brag) and I think it’s 

1. Because a million people are praying for me and I’ve begun internalizing that fear doesn’t come from God (My New Years resolution was to memorize 2 Tim 1:7. Coincidence? I don’t think so.) and 

2. Because I’m doing a few things to care for myself. 

I don’t super love the term “self care” because I think it’s mostly a modern buzzword and justification for selfishness. But maybe that’s because I see it as a social media trend of over-indulgence.

Turns out “Self-care” doesn’t have to be complicated, or expensive, or selfish. (Though it frequently turns into that in IG posts). It can be very very simple. It my case it means a few things:

Every morning, since the first morning I knew my sister had a mass in her brain, I’ve gotten in the shower. Every. Single. Morning. Resisting a very real impulse to roll out of bed and rush out the door. I don’t wash my hair every day—I ain’t got that kinda time. (2-3 times/week only) But I’ve made myself take a shower 7 days a week instead of taking days off and staying in sweats all day. While I’m in the shower, I listen to some scriptures and I pray frantic and semi-distracted prayers. Boom! Self care!

Most days I do a few crunches too! I haven’t had time to go to the gym so the crunches will have to do. What else? Oh yeah, Vitamins. I don’t know if they work. Honestly. Every article on the efficacy of vitamins contradicts the one from the week before. But I bought gummy fiber and gummy multi-vitamins and they don’t make me sick, and they don’t make me gag, so I take them every morning. I should say, I eat them every morning and I feel like a weird toddler trapped in a middle-aged body starting my day by eating fruit snacks. And maybe all it means is I have more expensive pee. I don’t know, but I’m going to keep it up because it makes my brain think I’m taking care of my body. Probably. (Insert shrugging emoji)

Obviously, once you’ve taken a shower, you are basically forced to put on clean clothes and deodorant. (It’s okay if the clean clothes are stretchy joggers, a wireless bra and a comfy sweatshirt—obviously.) I’m trying hard to transition to aluminum free deodorant full time. I’m pretty nervous about it and there have been a few times with Laura I’ve broken into a full panic sweat. But I don’t *think* I stink while wearing it. I think it works pretty well. (Am I nose blind at this point?) Maybe you’ll have to be the judge of that next time you hug me. (There have been lots of hugs lately. More than normal. Will you tell me if I have deodorant fade out? Please?)

Okay, moving on: Pre-Cancer, I was trying very VERY weak intermittent fasting at my Drs recommendation. This meant no food after 7pm and no eating breakfast until after 10am. That doesn’t work when you are rushing to the hospital first thing and may or may not get fed until kind friends bring dinner. Obviously I need to eat and I don’t have time to over-think seed oils and sugar content in breakfast cereals like I did P.C. Since I’m a middle-aged woman, I need fiber (even more fiber than I got fifteen minutes earlier from the fiber gummies) and Raisin Bran is the quickest, least disgusting way to get it. Boom. One bowl of cereal equals self care.

Then I rush off and the day isn’t about me anymore. But GO ME because I’m clean, hopefully I smell okay, I have a little make-up on so people don’t mistake my normal allergy eyes for abject despair, and I have food in my stomach. And OH YEAH—I filled my water bottle before I left and added Pina Colada ReLyte because it may or may not help my low blood pressure and mostly because it tastes good which makes it so I actually drink the water, and YAY HYDRATION and whatnot.

After the entire day and sometimes the entire night. Eventually I find my way home aaaand…more self care.

If the boys are all in bed, and they usually are, I have some time to think un-cancer-related thoughts. Maybe I take a quick walk to get a few steps in. Maybe not. If not, just a few more things are absolutely required to take care of myself, so I can take care of Laura: I wash my face. Every night. I’ll admit I was pretty hit or miss with face-washing for years 12-46. But now…I take off the mascara I put on less than 24-hours ago. (The absurdity! Honestly, who came up with this?) Every dang night. Knowing full well I’m just going to put it on again tomorrow—the tubing kind that doesn’t run when you cry—(Oh yeah, I wear mascara every day now not just Sunday and date night) and I do it because it feels important even though it’s not. But it’s self care. 

Obviously I brush my teeth but I was already doing that. And then I dock my phone across the room. This one is very important. No doom scrolling Insta in bed when your sister has cancer. It’s a dumb way to get exhausted and depressed in one fell swoop. Nope, the phone has got to stay away. Want to listen to audio books or music or white noise to fall asleep? Too bad. Read a book.

Sometimes I journal just to clear my mind. And then I sleep. No problems there. Being cancer-adjacent can make people lose sleep but not me. It’s made me so tired by 11pm every night that I simply can’t stay awake to overthink.

And that’s about it. That’s self-care!

No spa days required. 

Don’t over think it.

Just take a dang shower every morning.

And turn off your dang phone every night.

Life in Ireland

Thursday, Jan. 30, 2025

Don’t ask me the right question at the wrong time.

Sunday, February 2, 2025 

Groundhog Day

I think I'm starting to understand why people believe in reincarnation. When someone you love is maybe close to death you naturally start to examine your own life. What if this is all the time I get? What if I never do all the things I wanted or expected to do. After dropping a sister at the airport I was listening to a book to keep my mind busy. I was suddenly completely overwhelmed with sadness that I will never live in Ireland. Could I move there right now? Would I find something there that I don't have here? Or would it just be a different location with the same thoughts and experiences…?

Later:

Laura said “you are the only one who can do this for me Emily. God told me you need to do it. 

Just a few weeks ago I was thinking about my life. What am I doing with my life? What should I do? Am I messing it all up? My kids are my biggest “job” right now. But I question on a twice daily basis if I’m messing up Lincoln by homeschooling him. Am I messing up Gray? Did I already completely blow it with the oldest three? 

Either way I wonder what else, and what next at this time when my life seems almost empty of children with only three left at home, only two who need me and only one who still craves my constant attention. And I love that and honor that but I know it’s fleeting. And so again: What am I doing now? What do I do next?

So I prayed and asked God, to tell me, and I always use qualifiers like “Tell me loudly!” Or “Tell me so I really hear!!” Tell me…what should I do and where should I put my time. When Linc is at the home school co-op, or at night, or when I’m not actively teaching him…where should I be putting my time and attention and talents?

”Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”

I was hoping God would tell me. And then my sister got sick. And she woke up post surgery and told me she needed me for a job. And it’s no exaggeration for me to say that never in the history of the universe has my sister Laura ever told me she needs me for anything. She is too competent. Too independent. Too self sufficient. And yet now she needs me. She has so many ideas and I can’t execute them fast enough to satisfy her. And I keep thinking about the line from the song in Hamilton “Why do you write like you’re running out of time…?” And I worry that she’s running out of time. She can’t run out of time.

Random and Disjointed Thoughts on Mortality and Immortality

On January 17th, around 7:30p.m., my 55 year old sister Laura, who lives three doors down, called to tell me she’d been to the doctor that morning and ended up with a CT scan finding a large mass in her brain. My life changed immediately and it hasn’t been the same since. 

For starters, I’ve been wearing a lot of green. It’s my favorite color—I have a lot of green shirts. It’s also Laura’s favorite color because it sets off her green eyes. I wear it almost every day. Just because it feels right. Weird, but here we are.

Also, I’ve been showering every single day—right when I wake up. No time for the gym, but I want to feel ready and this is something I can control. I need to be clean and wearing a bit of make-up to feel ready: Ready to run an errand, run to the hospital, run to Laura’s, or run into a friend delivering a meal/pot of tulips/plate of cookies.

And then I have my “go bag” —actually just my backpack with chapstick, a few snacks, notebooks and pens and my journal. Just in case. Just in case I have to spend minutes or hours or all day in a hospital room or sitting on Laura’s bed while she talks in her chair.

The night she was in the ICU after having her tumor removed, we texted Jeff: “need us to take a shift?” He said “Yes!” We stood up and rushed straight to the car. I had no coat. No bag. No wallet. Those were some very cold hours in a very cold room. Sitting on a metal chair holding Laura’s hand while she moaned, cried, and almost vomited. Over and over. The ONE time I didn’t take my backpack. No more being unprepared. Now I will take my wallet, my airpods, my things, with me. Every time I leave the house. Every time.

The first few days I woke up every morning to a million texts. Then Jenny and Mak made me send the “mean” text: No visits. Brain Rest! And the texts dried up a tiny bit. I didn’t need those texts to stop. I needed to feel useful. So now I’ve taken over sending the updates. I want to be involved. Laura is normally pretty independent. She has a hard time asking for help. This time, I will help whether she likes it or not.

I’m helping by finishing her sentences. ADHDers love to finish other peoples sentences. Okay, maybe not love but feel compelled to. We know what you are trying to say and you are taking way too long to say it. When Laura’s speech started to go, I started to automatically and quickly fill in the blanks. She would nod with gratitude. Later she would start a sentence, point at me, and let me finish it. Finally a use for an annoying habit. Finally I can be useful by doing something I’m going to do anyway: talk too much!

Now I write the text updates to send to friends and family. Information and details without too many details. I personally like to overshare. I think oversharing makes people feel closer to you. I will tell you or show you everything about my life. But this is Laura. What would Laura do/say/share? Would she hate this? Will she hate this when/if she gets better? Will she be so mad or so embarrassed that I sent a picture with her half smile or uncombed hair? Will she be grateful and glad someone sent something besides “Laura is still recovering. Thank you for your prayers”. Too late now. I sent the long updates already. Not as long as I would write for myself. But maybe too long anyway.

What about my kids? How are they doing and how are they processing? If there is one thing I know it is that kids can be intensely selfish and callous and/or alternately deeply sensitive and malleable. Adults getting a divorce like to spout “kids are resilient!” They are also incredibly breakable. Which category do my kids fall in? Does it change day by day or hour by hour? Probably. Lincoln has turned to books. Unsurprising. Laney in “The Vanderbeekers” got Leukemia but got better. He is re-reading the books for clarity. Gray is in denial. He just does NOT want to talk about it. He can’t talk about it. ”Aunt Laura! You’re alive” Elder Sammy exclaims! He is not prepared to see her and she bursts into tears to see him. I shouldn’t have answered his P-day face-time call while sitting with her. But I am always with her so what else can I do? She wants this experience to mean something. To soften hearts and change lives. She doesn’t need the testimony building. She doesn’t need the lessons in humility. She wants them for others. She wants them for our kids. For MY kids. She wants them to see the bloody miracles and soften their stubborn hearts. But will it work? When I’m with her I believe there will be miracles but when I come back home, I doubt. Will we get miracle when so many others don’t? “Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief…”

Gabe stops me in the kitchen tonight after everyone else is in bed. “Is Aunt Laura going to be okay? Is she going to die?” I don’t know and I don’t know. How would I know? Is the peace the peace of healing, or the peace of eternal rest with God, or the peace of disassociation and shock? How do I parse out the difference? Where do I put my faith? I will put it with God and God and God. Because where else would I go? “To whom shall we go?” To the sheer terror and despair of unbelief?

Our parents and grandparents were so faithful. They lived and breathed miracles. They didn’t question. They didn’t analyse everything. They didn’t doubt but believed. I don’t need to say “What happened? Where did we go wrong?” because I know what happened and I know where we went wrong. The world infiltrated our homes and hearts and relationships on tiny shiny super computers and it gave us beautiful sophistries and seductive half-truths and billions of hits of dopamine all in exchange for our time, attention, and allegiance. No introspection required.

Our parents and grandparents and their friends and neighbors went to church. Everyone went to church. They had community and Christ and love and fellowship. Now so few go. And what do they have instead? The world and all of it’s impending sense of doom. People are dying and crying and trying to find meaning or giving up and believing the lie that nothing matters. Where have all the faithful gone?

I’m too tired to go on. My eyelids are heavy. My day has been long. Tomorrow will be more of the same.

Goodnight