Charlie's Baptism (January)

It has been a long, long time but I want to get back to posting memories here. First, however, I must make a few posts about the most important highlights since I last posted.

In January Charlie turned 8! He had made the decision to be baptized so on January 20th he was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

It was a dark, snowy and bitterly cold evening. Really terrible weather. The font water was not only really cold but really shallow as well (something had gone wrong with the drain). Charlie ended up having to go under twice but he did it. He was baptized and confirmed by Keith.

Granny B, Grandpa Joe and Keith's brothers and their families were there making it extra special for Charlie. Tragically the picture of the entire group was lost. (Mental note: always make sure an important picture is taken on two devices.)

Despite what the previous pictures look like, Jane was pretty excited for her brother.

We are proud of you Charlie and the great choices you are making. Sure love you my Charlie Boy!

Meet Molly

Last month God gave us a dog. That really is the best way to explain it because it just can't be a coincidence.

One Friday night the neighbors heard her barking and whining outside. When they went out to check they found a drenched little Yorkie with thorns in her over-grown tangled fur. They pulled the thorns from her fur and gave her two baths. She had no collar so she was taken to the vet to be scanned for a chip but there wasn't one. While she was there the vet trimmed her painfully over-grown nails.

The neighbor's kids took her around the neighborhood asking about her. They put up signs and posted her picture on Facebook all in a fruitless attempt to find her owner. There was one big problem. Although our neighbor is an animal person, her husband is not. At all. He left for work that morning making it perfectly clear that he didn't want that dog to be there when he got home.

That is where we enter the story. It was a Saturday and we were just heading out for a community event when we saw our next-door neighbor with her kids carrying a rather disheveled looking pup. We stop, she tells us the story, we offer to care for the dog until the owner is found. Keith and I both hoped that the kids...er...me... I mean us... wouldn't get too attached before then.

The poor dear was terrified for the first couple of days. It didn't help that Charlie and Jane were so excited about having a dog that they were all over her. We sat them down and walked through what we knew of her story with them. We talked about how scary it must be for her. After that they were better about giving her space and being gentle and slow around her, but they are kids so it was really hard for them. She warmed up pretty quickly though and after two days I was starting to feel guilty for hoping that her owners never called so she could be ours forever.

Jane just chillin' and picking her nose while Molly keeps watch from her perch.

The day the neighborhood signs came down and we went and bought her a collar with a tag that said Molly Merrill, I just kept on thinking that it was just too good to be true.

Between Keith's experience cutting his own hair, and my limited experience as Assistant Sheep Shearer, I think we did a pretty good job.

Here's why I thought that and why I say God sent her to us.

We have wanted a dog for quite a while now but I didn't want to have to train a puppy, especially potty training, while undergoing cancer treatments. Molly is, according to the vet's estimate, about 2-3 years old. She is completely potty trained, super mellow and doesn't chew on anything.

We also wanted a small dog that would work well in the house. Check. Keith and I both have some allergies to dogs, nothing severe but enough that we wanted a dog that wouldn't bother our allergies. Yorkies are very allergy-friendly dogs. Also they don't shed any more than a person. Instead of having fur that constantly sheds they have "hair" that is much like human hair. It just keeps on growing. That means that she requires a bit more grooming than your average dog but that is okay with me.

Molly laying in her sun puddle just like every morning.

Pretty much if almost any other dog had showed up that night and the owner never came forth we would have had to just given it to the shelter and prayed that she would find a good home before it was too late.

And then there was the timing. I had just returned home from my wonderful Sisters Trip less than a week before. The month or so prior to that trip had been a nightmare. A string of heart-breaking events followed by physically and emotionally painful decisions. I was mad at God. Through the tumor and the seizures I had never felt completely let down by God. He would some how always reassure me that he was there. But not now. Now, it felt like He had just left me hanging.

I am sorry for being so vague. As a general rule I try to not bring up things on this blog that I don't feel comfortable telling the public about. I am breaking that rule this time because I want to somehow explain what I mean when I say that God gave us Molly.

Molly snuggling up with me when I felt yucky on a chemo day.

My mom says that God has always spoken to me through animals. As I have thought back over my life I find that to be true for the most part. It is His unique way of letting me know He is there and aware of me. He used a mouse to show me he hears and answers my prayers. He used birds to reassure me of His love when I was pregnant and having several seizures every day.

And now He has comforted me by sending me Molly. I just have the strongest impression that, through Molly, He is letting me know that He was there during those terrible, heart-wrenching weeks. Even when I was mad at him.

She will forever be my constant reminder that God loves me and never truly forsakes us.

Walking home from the bust stop. Molly loves all the attention she gets from the kids there.

That makes Molly extra special.

Radiation: a Blessing in Disguise

The plaque above the bell reads: Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away. Smile-this is one of those moments!

My 29 days of radiation treatments are finished! It went far better than expected and, as strange as it may sound, it was a blessing in disguise. For one, contrary to expectations, it has drastically reduced the frequency of my seizures. The best average I have achieved is one every 3 days. Three years ago I was having 16 to 24 a day.

In the last 47 days I have had one. Only one single seizure in 47 days! The emotional freedom that has given me is tremendous!!!

 Along with her my "moms" have come for weeks at a time to drive me to those appointments, cared for Charlie and Jane so I could take much needed afternoon naps and just been a wonderful support to me and my little family. My Dad also came for the last of it. :)

We tried to make the best of the daily long trip to the hospital so almost every time we would go someplace fun. We spent several days at the extensive Missouri Botanical Gardens and frequented the Butterfly House on occasion. I am forever grateful for emotionally healing places such as those when wild places are so far away. Each of those trips could use their own post but this will have to do.

Another blessing has been the time I have spent with Jane. She has been my little "radiation buddy" and has taken the long trip to the hospital and back again almost as many times as I have. And she has been incredibly great about it. I let her help me ring the "victory" bell in the lobby after my final treatment. It was a moment filled with gratitude. Gratitude for the blessing of the technology that is available to give me this freedom, for the doctors and technicians who were so great and kind, and for the beginning of the realization of God's promise that the seizures would end.

 

Walking away after ringing the bell with a lump in my throat. Another part of the journey behind us.

(And I got to keep my mask which the kids have had a lot of fun with. :)  )

Radiation

The room I spend roughly 20 minutes in five days a week for six weeks. The little wing looking things on the side go forward and the round part on the top moves back and forth. Well at least I think it does. I was fitted with a VERY tight mask made just for me in which my head is firmly attached to a head mold that is bolted to that table during my treatments. (Google brain tumor radiation pictures and you will get the idea.) This mask is so tight that it prevents me from actually opening my eyes enough to see much of anything, but I do notice a shadow occasionally passing over my face. That table is every bit as uncomfortable as it looks, in case you were wondering. It can move up and down, forward and backward, side to side, to get me lined up to the exact place I need to be so that the radiation goes right where it needs to be in order to blast the tumor to smithereens. On the plus side I do get to pick a Pandora station to listen to. I highly recommend The Piano Guys for both MRIs and radiation.

As some of you already know, I began radiation treatments three weeks ago. (Chemo will follow.) As you can imagine, this was not a decision that was easily made.

When we first moved here we met with Dr. Kim, my new neuro-oncologist. Access to a more comprehensive cancer team was one of the reasons that made me want to come here in the first place. After going through my medical history with him, he said it sounded like I should see a neurologist. I told him that I had wanted a neuro-oncologist so that I could start doing more to actually get the tumor to go away in the hope that by doing that the seizures would go away. He agreed that that was a good possibility and asked if he could present my case before a group of specialists the following Monday. Apparently every Monday night a group of doctors, within any specialty dealing with brain cancer, meet to discuss various cases. (That sounds both dull and fascinating all at the same time.) So the following Tuesday afternoon I got a call saying that the unanimous recommendation was radiation followed by a mild form of chemo. Well, related to other forms of chemo that is. Also, the genetic makeup of my particular tumor makes it respond well to radiation and chemo. it is also a low-grade tumor now but it has a high probability of getting really nasty in the future. It only makes sense to treat it now when we don't have to be really aggressive with it.

My reaction to that news was mixed. One the one hand I was scared. Who wouldn't be? On the other hand it felt so good and so right to finally be doing something really proactive about the tumor. (I feel that I should acknowledge here that there are other treatments termed "alternative" that people are proactive as well, and I don't deny their worth. All that I feel to say about that on this blog is that for me, at this time, I feel that it is appropriate to utilize some of those as complimentary to my radiation and chemotherapy.) It also was comforting to know that this was not a recommendation made by one doctor. It was made by a room of doctors from several backgrounds. More than that though, I have had two very real sacred experiences that told me, without a doubt, that these seizures would not last my entire life. That promise has given me hope and that hope has given me the motivation to continue to search for a cure even when doctors say that, because none of the seizures meds have worked, the goal is to simply improve my quality of life with the seizures.

There are pros and cons to radiation, specifically my kind of radiation.

Cons:
 -extreme tiredness. By the latter part of the week, for me to be a functional human, it is crucial that I take about a two hour nap in the afternoon. And I still sleep through the night just fine.

-my brain doesn't work as well as it did before radiation (and that was worse than before the seizure meds). People joke about being forgetful and not remembering a particular word, or why they walked into a room, or having a conversation about something. But these are things that happen multiple times a day, everyday. When there are beams of radiation passing through your brain tissue, no matter how small and focused they are, they still do some damage. On the plus side, I am young and, with proper care, brains can heal from relatively small injuries as this. Basically, this shouldn't be long term.

-you get dizzy at times.

-you get headaches at times.

-your hair falls out, temporarily, in patches where the majority of the radiation enters your head. (whimper)

 

Luckily it is becoming hat weather... And even if I become one of the rare cases where it doesn't grow back, I would much rather go through life without hair and without seizures than the other way around. If that was the sacrifice I had to make to live the rest of my life without seizures and all that that brings with it, well I would just buy a lot of hats. (You generally need one anyway when climbing mountains. ;) )

-and your scalp itches. A lot. Hooray for aloe vera mixed with lavender oil! 

Pros:

-your extra wonderful mother and mother-in-law, come to help you out and you get to have fun times that you wouldn't have if you didn't have someone to drive you around. Seriously, this as been the second greatest blessing of the whole radiation thing.

So what is the best thing you ask? Well I will tell you...

you may just set a new record for the longest time you have ever gone without seizures!!!!!  

 (That is the largest I could make the font.)

That includes post-surgery periods. As of today I have gone 18 days without even the tiniest of seizures. 18 whole days. Over two weeks. 

What if I have had my very last seizure. 

I don't hardly dare to think of that possibility...

45 minutes

The other day I was reading through some of my journal entries from a couple of years ago when the seizures were really bad and many days were very dark. I didn't write often because of that. Perhaps I should have. This particular entry stood out to me. I wrote it during those precious few weeks after Jane was born and before I had the brain surgery.

I have been a bit hesitent to share this here because I didn't want to share something so personal and I didn't want to put a lot of focus on my struggles when I know that there are a lot of people struggling with worse things. Things that make mine seem tiny. I feared as well, that it may offend the wonderful people who love me and served me so much. And I never, never want to do that. However, I have felt strongly the last several weeks that I should post it.

I want to share it because it reminds me of that time when, despite encouragement from others, some days it was hard, nay almost impossible, to keep from letting the darkness and fear over take me. It was a battle I fought almost every single day. Don't get me wrong; there were many happy wonderful days, but I would be lying if I pretended that those times when I felt completely hopeless never happened. For better or worse, very few people saw them because I am one of those who don't break down in public. I would go into my dark bedroom, curl up in fetal position on the floor, and sob and pound the floor in private. I don't want to remember those times for the sake of dwelling on them, but rather to see what I had a very difficult time seeing then; it would get better. In some ways I wish I could go back and tell myself that. It will get better. So much better. On the other hand, as strange as it may sound to some, I am glad I can't. You see, because I went through that, I can understand a bit better what it is like to experience real anger, doubt, depression, and overall darkness.

I share this here in hopes that it may possibly help others who are struggling, truly struggling, to know that it will get better. Although I couldn't see it when I wrote this, I know it now.


"November 23, 2013 Walking in the Forest Around Lake Johnson

Today I took a 45 minute walk. Alone. It was the first time in 7 months that I have gone anywhere alone. 7 months! It as been so hard, so much pressure. I have felt the need so often to burst and scream. To breathe. To not feel eyes on me watching for the next seizure. Almost constantly I feel like I have been the focus of so much attention these last several months. A lot of it I appreciate: the prayers, fasting, help with meals and play dates for Charlie, and even the almost daily service of women coming over to just be with me. But I hate the sympathetic looks and uplifting words that come from the mournful faces of people who don't know what to say. I know they have the best of intentions, but sometimes I wish they would just say "that must really suck." Often I just want to know that someone understands or at least is trying to.

I spent a lot of those precious 45 minutes of alone time mourning my loss of independence these last 7 months and wondering when I would ever have an opportunity like this again. I kept fighting back the tears and trying to focus on the sound my feet made as they swept through the carpet of leaves and the sound and feel of the wind as it rushed through the empty branches. I tried hard to enjoy the smell of the cool air as it rushed into my lungs and the faint taste of decaying leaves that it brought with it. I have always loved the North Carolina autumns. I struggled to enjoy my brief moment without adult supervision, but the lump in my throat just kept growing.

Eventually I sat down on a log and told God that I needed help. I didn't want to go home in a worse mood than when I had left. But when I thought of going home and fighting Charlie to get ready for his nap, feeding Jane and finally searching for something of my own to eat, it made me want to keep walking for a long long time. I knew I couldn't though. I had told an anxious, but understanding, Keith that I would be back in 45 minutes and I didn't want to make his anxiety become panic.
The thought entered my mind to force myself to focus on the now. Push out thoughts of the past 7 months, push out thoughts of what would meet me at home, push out thoughts of the myriad of struggles that awaited me in my near future, push out thoughts of the unknown that lay beyond that. Just focus on now.

It took a lot of effort, but as I practiced yoga breathing and focusing on things I could feel physically (wind, log, ground) it came; and with it I began to feel happy. The weight I carried was gone. The things in the past and future were not all happy and pleasant, but that moment was. I was happy when I focused my efforts on experiencing that present peacefulness and not tainting it with thoughts, worries, and fears that would pull me away from the beautiful now."

If only I had known then how very good the seemingly distant future would be.

One Year

Today (Earth Day, of all days) marks one year from that first Grand-Mal seizure and the diagnosis of the tumor. Although we still have struggles we have come a long way since then. So today we celebrate not the first seizure, but all the progress since then and the many angels (on earth and in Heaven) that have aided us this year; the hardest year of my life.

I am so grateful for Keith who always made me feel like we were in this together. He gave me a shoulder to cry on every time I needed it (which was a lot). I am thankful for my two wonderful children who gave me a reason to keep going. Especially for Charlie who, although he was scared each time I had a seizure, would hold my hand during it and was always helpful and caring after it.

I also want to thank my extended family who supported me by long visits when I needed them most and gave their support and encouragement. Also, thanks to my many wonderful doctors who gave me wonderful care all along the way and those who are still caring for me. My ward was great with arranging play-dates, bringing meals, offering rides and just encouraging me. I have dear friends that have come and stayed with me, taken me to get pedicures (quite the treat), driven me places, sent sweet cards and letters and gave me the best birthday week ever.

I also thank my Heavenly Father who sent me little blessing when I needed them, to show me He cared. For instance, when I came home from the hospital and was really discouraged and overwhelmed at the diagnosis, I saw three new birds come to my feeder in less than a week. It is really strange that in such a short time three new birds would visit my feeder after having it up for two years. I haven't seen them anywhere else since then. That may not seem like a big deal to most, but to me it was a tender mercy showing that He was aware of what I was facing and He loves me personally. I am really overwhelmed with gratitude for all the love that has been shown to me.

This past year I have gone from having an average of 16 seizures every day to now one every week or so. That is a huge relief and serious progress. This past year I have had eight Gran-Mal seizures, one sweet baby, several MRIs, tried four different anti-covulsant medications (without much success) and one brain surgery. That is a lot for one year and I desperately hope that it will never be repeated.

Here's to a better year and a brighter future.

A (long) Tumor Update

Warning: This is a long post! I didn't want to leave it totally without pictures so I have included the following comic. I relate to it a little too well.

I think I am starting to get over the shock of T-Day (Tumor Day, as we now refer to Monday, April 22). God has put some miracles and tender mercies in our path that let us know that we are loved, that I am loved, that He knew about this all along, and that I am going to be alright. I have long heard the advice to look for evidence of God's love for you each day. It would be a flat out lie if I said that I haven't had some pretty dark and depressing moments these past few weeks, but each day I haven't even had to search for evidence that God loves me; it has just been right there. It has come in many forms such as a friend calling and taking me to get my first pedicure right after an embarrassing seizure at Costco, or an uplifting text from a family member when I needed it most, or simply Charlie making doing something funny enough to make me laugh when I needed it most.

The biggest one would have to be the miracle of my neurosurgeon. Duke University, home of a pretty good basketball team as well as the world's leaders in neurosurgery, is just twenty-five minutes away from us. However the brain tumor center at Duke has a screening process that takes 4-6 months to get through. Keith and I knew that we wanted to get into that center and so we buckled down for the long process. In the mean time, a week after being released from the hospital, I had a follow-up appointment with the neurologist, Dr. Bowman, who happened to be on-call the night the ambulance brought me in. During the follow-up appointment we brought up the topic of the Duke brain tumor center and requested a referral so that we could start the screening process. The doctor's response took us both by surprise. He explained that when he saw me in the hospital he knew I needed to be at Duke so he called the director of the brain tumor center, Dr. Friedman (who just so happens to be his good friend). Dr. Friedman said that he could meet us as soon as it was convenient for us. Dr. Bowman said he had just wanted to clear it with us before he set anything up. We enthusiastically gave our consent and he left the exam room to give Dr. Friedman a call. A few minutes later he came back a told us that if we could leave right then, Dr. Friedman would wait for us and see us right away.

On our drive to Duke that day Keith and I went back and forth between being amazed that this all had come about so easily and quickly, and expressing how weird it is that we were that happy to be going to see a neurosurgeon! Things had fallen in place so quickly that when we arrived at the brain tumor center none of staff were expecting us and had thought that Dr. Friedman had gone home early. Eventually they tracked him down and learned that he indeed was expecting our arrival, though he was the only one.

We met with him and his PA in his office, (which is everything you would imagine a brain surgeon's office to look like) and together we talked about the details of my situation, my options, and came up with a plan. It was also the first time that either Keith or I had seen the MRI images of the tumor. Shocking and scary are the terms that come first to mind but they seem rather mild ways to describe what we were feeling. It was HUGE and it was in MY BRAIN!!! The rest of the visit and stuff that was discussed had some scary parts too. The thing that kept me from panic was this little voice that would occasionally remind me of events long in the past that had led us here. Those forks in the road of life that suddenly held so much more meaning. It kept reassuring me that we were not there having this meeting be accident and that it would all be okay.

So the plan in brief is to remove as much of the brain tumor about a month after our little one is born. The more they can remove the better my long-term outcome looks. In order to remove as much as possible without removing brain tissue (which would be bad) I need to be awake for a portion of the operation so the surgeon can "map" my brain and more clearly tell what is brain and what is tumor. Freaky? Most definitely. But I am hoping the experience will one day make for a good blog post.

Dr. Friedman emphasized that the recovery process would not be a walk in the park. Keith brought up later that it sounds more like my dad's version of a walk in the park (i.e. Rainier, Denali, etc). I will won't be able to speak and will be paralyzed on my right side for a few days. It will be several weeks before I am fully functional again. Oh, and did I mention that we will have a two-year old and a two-month old at this time? Daunting? Yes. But I am thankful for the time that we have to prepare and the family we have that are so willing to help.

In the meantime we are focusing on getting these persistent seizures under control (which is turning out to be more complicated than we thought) and growing a healthy baby.

It has been humbling and encouraging to hear that so many people are praying for me and my little family. Thank you so much!

Life Changes So Fast

I was planning a blog post to announce that I am pregnant (due in Oct.!) when Keith suddenly developed an ulcer in the lower third of his esophagus and couldn't eat. Long story short, we don't know what caused it but it appears to be getting better.

Then Sunday night at 3am I had a grand-mal seizure.

Keith called 911 and I taken to the hospital. I don't remember anything until part way through my stay in the ER. Turns out I have a slow growing tumor (about the size of an egg) in the left side of my brain. I was moved to the intensive care unit and stayed there until Tuesday afternoon when I went home. I am on an anti-seizure med but am still having mini-seizures in my right hand and sometimes when I am talking and focusing hard on a thought I get stuttering. Other little things like signing my name gives me trouble and you wouldn't believe how long it is taking me to type this! But all that should get better with time.

So what to do about that tumor...  Well, removing it has some risks involving speech and motor skills and because it is slow growing their isn't any harm in leaving it there for now. So the plan is to stay on the anti-seizure med for the duration of the pregnancy at which point I will do more testing and discuss tumor removal options.

Whenever I focus on the fact that I have a brain tumor too much I get a bit scared. It helps to remember that God works His miracles in His own way and I can trust Him to do what is best. I have already seen His tender mercies through the timing of all this. If I had had the seizure earlier in the pregnancy the anti-seizure med could have hurt the baby. But by having when I did it allows us time to learn about our options before making a decision.

I appreciate any prayers sent my way.

P.S. Happy Anniversary to my sweetheart of four years today! Words can not express how much I love you.

A Most Wonderful Easter Weekend and a Trip of a Historical Nature

 

One of the places I have wanted to visit the most during our time in North Carolina is Biltmore Estate just outside of Asheville. That desire has only increased since watching Downton Abbey.  :)
Biltmore (finished in 1895) was the home of George Vanderbilt and his family. It is the largest privately owned home in the US.

 Charlie (and his parents) wouldn't have enjoyed this trip nearly as much if it hadn't been for the presence of his Gramma and Grampa Temus. Grampa was just finishing his weeks of work in Greensboro and Gramma flew out to join in the fun. Keith and I explored (a small portion of) the extensive grounds with Charlie while the grandparents toured the house and then we switched, leaving Charlie with his Ama and Papa. He napped in the stroller and ran around outside while Keith and I enjoyed a few hours of a mini-date on our tour of the house. As Charlie's brief stint inside the house proved, touring it all together would have been impossible and would have included a whole lot of melt-downs over not being able to run around and touch everything.

 I actually first heard of Biltmore back in my undergrad days in a few of my forestry classes. George Vanderbilt wanted a scientifically-managed forest for the large unfarmed area of his property. To achieve this he hired Frederick Olmstead, a landscape architect, to manage the forest. Olmstead published the first scientific article on forest conservation and management from his work at Biltmore. He convinced Vanderbilt to hire Gifford Pinchot whose forestry management plan for Biltmore became the national model for forestry management. He created the first forest management school during his time at Biltmore and when he left he went to Washington D.C. to head the division that would later become the U.S. Forest Service. So all this just goes to show that Biltmore plays a bigger role in conservation and land management than is immediately evident.

Spring was just hitting the Appalachians (where Biltmore is located) so the huge gardens weren't doing much, but the large conservatory was full of color! Vanderbilt, along with the rest of high society at the time, was a collector of orchids and they were on display in mass.

Photographs weren't allowed inside, but it was pretty awesome. I had a few favorite rooms, loved the views from the upper levels, was very impressed by the unique architecture, but the basement and the servants areas were absolutely fascinating. The methods and new technology of the day that they utilized to cook, do laundry, and do everything else that it needed to keep a place of that magnitude running every day were really interesting to me. If you ever get a chance to visit, I would highly reccomend it!

 

Thanks Mom and Dad for coming with us and making the trip even better!

On our way back to the hotel we stopped by a little village on the estate that was established for the estate workers. It now has a little petting zoo (the chickens were the only ones out and about when we came by) and shops.
 
The highlight of the village visit for me was buying Charlie ice cream for the first time. Charlie can have most sorbets but going to restaurants, including ice cream shops, with PKU generally stresses me out a bit. We are getting better at it though, realizing the it is going to be a necessary skill for Charlie in the future. Picking something out for Charlie at the ice cream shop would mean asking extra questions at the counter and I have a tendency to not be gutsy in situations like these, so when I saw how very busy the place was I almost decided against it. The lady taking my order was very helpful though and took the time to locate and let me read the ingredient list of the the only dairy-free sorbet they carried. It was perfect for Charlie and he was thrilled but might have loved sharing with everyone else more. It gave me a lot of mommy-satisfaction to see my boy eating ice cream at the ice cream shop just like everybody else.

 

The next morning we explored Asheville a bit (oh the chocolate shop!!!) and then headed home. Two hours down the road (about halfway home) we stopped by a place called Old Salem which is a preserved/restored colonial town that was settled by the Moravians (a Protestant group from what is now the Czech Republic).

Our favorite part was the cemetery. It was Easter weekend so the community was getting ready for the traditional Moravian Easter sunrise celebration. Flowers were placed at each of the uniform headstones and early Easter morning the congregation and community would gather to parade through the cemetery, sing, and celebrate both Christ's ressurection and the coming ressurection of their loved ones. I loved both the simplicity of the cemetery (no ostentatious headstones) and the joy that they put as the focus of Easter.

Upper right: The second church they built here with the small old cemetery in front. It was interesting to note that people were buried in groups based on gender, age, and if they were a Moravian or not. There weren't family plots. Bottom right: the first church they built (out of logs) when the Moravians settled here.

We had a pretty low-key Easter the next day at home. Church, and the messages of hope, peace, and joy were the highlights of the day. Charlie all dressed up in his new Easter outfit and playing with his Easter basket was pretty great too. ;)
I, along with many others in the family, felt like this was the most meaningful Easter we had ever had. The promise of the resurrection is a lot more meaningful now and we hope for it and look forward to it more than ever. For it is then when we can be reunited with Brooke and all those who have passed on. I can't even express what that means to me. It is too big for words.

The turtles chose Easter weekend to leave hibernation behind and join the world again. It is fun to see them again.

Thank you again Mom and Dad for a wonderful Easter weekend!

Blessings

I am sitting out a layover on my way back across the country. My heart is torn between wanting to be with Keith and Charlie, and wanting to be with my family in Washington. I don't really know how to put this past weekend into words. I go back and forth between missing Brooke, hurting for her wonderful parents, and feeling blessed and at peace. This song was sung at Brooke's funeral on Saturday. It has really touched me and given me a lot to ponder on. I can't stop thinking about it's message.

At the funeral my mom talked about Brooke's life and mentioned some of the things that, at the time, looked like trials, but now we see them as the huge blessings they are. Things like unemployment that gave family more time with Brooke. It begs the question: what if Brooke's passing is also "a blessing in disguise?" At times it is hard to see how it could be, but something confirms to my heart that at some point in the eternities we will look back and see all the blessings that came from it. We still miss her, we still feel the ache of loss, but the confirmation that God feels our pain and know why it had to be this way is a huge comfort.

I thought others may also benefit from the message of this song.

Blessings -Laura Story

We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love is way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not our home

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy
What if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

Our Brooke

 

Many of you have probably heard of the passing of my precious niece Brooke through emails and Facebook. I won't retell it here but will direct you to my dear sister Sarah's blog where she beautifully wrote twice during Brooke's last days on earth. This last week has been incredibly hard but made lighter by feelings of peace that come from knowing that we can be with her again. I have had little moments and memories brought to mind that testify that this was not a surprise to our Heavenly Father, as it was to us. He knew her time on earth would not be long and has comforted us and blessed us. I am thankful for all the time we had with her even though we lived so far away.

Sarah and Darren waited a long time for her to come. Shortly before my Grandma Earl passed away, my mom whispered in her ear "send me grand babies." Within a few short months both Sarah and I were pregnant.

 

  Grandma sent us two of the very best spirits there were.

We all have enjoyed every moment with her. She loved to explore the wide world around her and truly lived her short life to the fullest.

She loved making discoveries with all of her senses but especially touch.

She loved the brushing of grass, the cold smoothness of water, and the softness of fabrics.

One of her many delights was to roll and wiggle in blankets and piles of clothes. It was like she was dancing in them.

She approached every new thing with wide blue eyes and a big grin.

Her enthusiasm encouraged me to jump in instead of holding back and I was always glad I did.

The other characteristic that has impressed me about Brooke is her willingness to love everyone so openly.

Of course she adored her parents- they gave her a wonderful life on this earth! When Sarah came home from work she had to hide from Brooke while she washed her hands or Brooke would wail while she did so. She lavished attention on both of her adoring parents.
 
But it wasn't just her parents that were blessed by her love. Brooke didn't mind being held and cuddled by others either. She would smile at you with those enormous blue eyes, snuggle into your neck, and you instantly felt better as a person. That is at least how it always was for me. I couldn't be doing that bad if this perfect little angel gushes love to me.


I could go on and on about this little girl that expanded out world and hearts. Brooke had each of us- mom, dad, aunts, uncles, and grandparents- wrapped tightly around one of her tiny fingers. She will always have a firm hold on our hearts.

Please continue to keep Sarah and Darren in your prayers, and give the children in your life a little extra love.

A funeral will be held this Saturday from 2:30 to 3:30.
We will be having an open viewing starting at 1pm and an open reception immediately following the funeral that all are invited to attend.
8615 176th St. E Puyallup


THE BROOKE E. JAGGI MEMORIAL FUND
Many friends and family have expressed a desire to send flowers for Brooke’s funeral service or to help with the medical and funeral expenses. A dear family friend has created the Brooke E. Jaggi Memorial Fund. We request that those wishing to support our family make a donation to the Fund. Your donations will be used to cover Brooke’s medical and funeral expenses, and all remaining funds will be donated to one or more of the following charities that have helped Sarah and Darren through this difficult time: The TEARS Foundation, Seattle Children’s Hospital Uncompensated Care Fund , and Olive Crest.

You can donate to the Brooke E. Jaggi Memorial Fund by:
• Wells Fargo Bank: Make a deposit to account number 7862923385 or by the name Brooke E Jaggi Memorial Fund. Deposits can be made at any branch, transferred from another Wells Fargo account or mailed in.
• PayPal: Make a PayPal transfer to the brookejaggimemorialfund@gmail.com PayPal account. You will see that it says something about the money going to Sierra – that’s the name of the family friend who created the Fund on our behalf. The money will be deposited into the memorial fund account at Wells Fargo.

We can’t even begin to express how touched we have been by all of your love, prayers, and support. Thank you so much for all you have done for our family.