A. Little. Story.

It has been a while.
I have been updating our family blog since it got sorely neglected
while the intense treatment for Evalette was going on.
But tonight, I have some feelings to share.
A story if you will…just a short one that needs to be written.

Yesterday was a crazy day.
Enoch had a fever….his first.
He was burning hot and cranky.
Not that I can blame him.
Evalette was sensitive and cranky.
She hasn't been sleeping well and
we are certain has some sensory issues from her cancer experiences.
She will scream if her toys get touched or if something isn't exactly as she wants it.
Some days are ok and she is her sweet self.
And then there are other days were she just is so sensitive, especially when she isn't sleeping.
And today was an extremely sensitive day.
And Lance was being a teaser….oh boy.
Not mention he was also cranky.
Do you notice a trend here?
I certainly do.
Lance was feeling like he needed some attention.
I was a little busy with a fussy sick baby and a sensitive, over tired girl.
I can't blame him either.
Thank goodness I had my big helpers, Tyrell and Jarom.
By the time James walked in the door, I was going crazy.
I warned him about the day I had had and that I was at the edge of my sanity.
I explained that I wasn't sure I was even a person anymore…
I hadn't even looked in the mirror all day.
I was feeling sorry for myself and was worn out.
I had tried to stay positive, but I wanted to curl up in a ball in a corner and never come out.
So I took a drive and cleared my head.
And remembered that I was indeed a person, not just a nurse, a maid, and a referee.
I counted my blessings and came home.
I still felt a bit down, but felt a bit better.

Today, I was determined to get back into the groove of things.
This morning on Facebook, I had a friend request from a friend that I had hadn't seen or spoken to in over a year.
I was excited.
It was a dear friend that I had met at the hospital when Evalette was first diagnosed.
She was such a strength to me during that time.
I was so excited.
She sent me to her blog to read her most recent post.
It touched me so much.
I cried and cried.
This is what I needed today.
A reminder that I was needed.
I had helped someone.
I was remembered.
I was loved.
And that God hadn't forgotten me.
He sent me a miracle and reminded me of who I am.
Here is her post….

Thursday, October 23, 2014

"Tell Me a Miracle"
As my dad got home from work yesterday, he sat down on the couch to tell my mom about his day when she said to him: "Tell me about a miracle you witnessed today." A little caught off guard, he said he couldn't think of one right away. They continued to recap their day to each other while my mom began looking for a friend's blog online. She couldn't remember the exact web address so she was typing random things in Google with the hope that she would come across it. Not more than one minute later, she found a blog she had never seen before but the title of the blog intrigued her so she clicked on the link. The link took her to a post from back in June of 2013 so she began to read. About midway through this fairly long post, the writer quoted George Q. Cannon and my mom immediately thought: "This is my miracle. I need to read this to Liz." The quote said: 

"The Saints should always remember that God sees not as man sees; that he does not willingly afflict his children, and that if he requires them to endure present privation and trial, it is that they may escape greater tribulations which would otherwise inevitably overtake them. If He deprives them of any present blessing, it is that he may bestow upon them greater and more glorious ones by and by."

Logan and I and our families are doing quite well right now but it's always comforting to hear words like those of George Q. Cannon's. My mom made a mental note to call me later and tell me about the quote and then continued reading. Thinking she had already received her miracle by stumbling upon this quote she thought was perfect for me, she wasn't quite prepared for what she read next:

"Today was our first day back at the hospital...since four days ago. We sure do love this place (I wish you could hear the sarcastic tone in my voice). As we settled into our new room (actually it is our old room 4413- they save it for us!) and got back into our regular hospital routine, I found myself scanning the names on each door. Looking for friends and wondering about how they came to be here. So many families, so many children, so many stories. Then I begin to think about Logan and Liz. Their name is no longer on the board, they got moved to the second floor. Little Eli needed some extra attention. I then hoped that I will see them soon; maybe in the cafeteria, in the laundry room, or down the hall. My good friends. Our day drags on with chemo, vomiting, pain meds, rocking in our chair and then more chemo, more vomiting, more pain meds and rocking in our chair some more. Oh my little girl, hang in there we can do this. We can do hard things. Finally she fells asleep, exhausted from it all. Sweet soft cheeks, sparse, yet long eyelashes, and perfect lips. Oh how I adore her.

I think of Liz and Logan again. I hadn't seen them yet. I was getting ansy. I had to know how my friends were. So I pulled up their blog...and wasn't prepared for the news I read. Sweet baby Eli had received his angel wings last Saturday while we were at the hospital. My heart broke and I sobbed. How could I have not known? We were right there and I wasn't there to help ease their burden. My mind raced back to our month together, right after my baby was diagnosed with cancer. Liz and I became instant friends. It wasn't hard to talk to Liz. She always had a smile on her face. And even though her baby was in critical condition and struggling to live, she would always ask how we were doing. She and Logan never complained and never asked why. Such amazing people. Why them? Why did their son have to die? Out of anyone, they deserved to have their child live. It isn't fair that my child is asleep next to me, stable and well, while they had to walk out of the hospital with empty arms. My heart aches. How can this be? All I know is hug your babies close. Time is precious. Going to snuggle with my sleeping angel...and to think and pray. To Liz, Logan, and amazing Eli you have changed my life forever. Thank you for all you have taught me. Sending peace and love your way!"

Sweet Danielle. I haven't spoken to her since we left the hospital and I somehow never knew she kept a blog. Danielle is right, we became fast friends. She was an angel to me during our months in the hospital. We connected quickly and I loved talking to her. She exuded great strength that I tried to mimic during our difficult days. Her sweet princess is in remission now and that brings such happiness to my heart. I love hearing about these warrior children that are able to make it through. Eli could have if it was part of God's plan. It wasn't, obviously, but I'm so glad it was part of God's plan for Evalette to stay here with her family. **If you're interested in reading that whole post, click HERE. She talks about our Eli a little bit more at the end. Follow her daughter's story as well. They're an amazing family!**

I love that my mom asked for a miracle and was prepared to receive it. I needed to hear those words and feel so grateful that Heavenly Father was so mindful of that.

Although, Liz says I was her miracle, she was mine.
I needed to know that I was more than a run down house wife,
a busy mom, and a tired woman.
I am needed.
Thank you, Liz.
Once again, you have blessed my life.