blog
january 8
January 8, 2020 is the day Richard was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
It’s been two years since that hard, heavy day and today he went fishing on the Snake with Fisher and caught six fish! What a way to celebrate! He said wading in the very shallow water felt okay to his brain and didn’t tire his brain out as much as it did this past summer. He continues to make progress and we are so grateful!
We were also able to spend some time in the temple thanking God for His power and grace and tender care. I was a bit frazzled when I got there because of some challenges with my trip tomorrow, but eventually I was able to calm down and feel the sweet spirit and breathe in God’s love for me.
January 8th has been a big day for our family several times.
January 8, 2013 was my first seizure – these seizures changed my life dramatically because I was no longer able to be alone or take care of my children by myself. I always needed someone to be with me, to drive me places, and to be ready to help me if I collapsed.
January 8, 2018 was the day I found out I would start receiving human stem cells and received a powerful, beautiful message from God about our babies. GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH! These cells also changed my life dramatically. Within three weeks after receiving them, my nervous system was soooooo much calmer. And the seizures mostly stopped. From 2013-2017, I had thousands of episodes. Since I started human cells, I have had 22! Next week I get to receive more of these amazing treatments that do so much good for my body. Sweet tears of joy as I type these words because my entire being is so grateful for the blessing these cells have been for me and my family. Those that have given me this gift can never be thanked enough.
I never know how I’m going to feel on January 8. It is a hard day…and also a beautiful day. Tonight I’m releasing the hard and just soaking in the miracles.
another clear scan
My mama means so much to me. September 30, 2020 she was diagnosed with high-grade (very fast growing) bladder cancer. The tumor was removed, chemo placed on the tumor site for an hour, then flushed out of her, then she had weekly treatments for six weeks.
Her doctor said it would keep coming back and they would keep repeating that process for the rest of her life. She is checked every three months. So far it hasn’t come back.
Today was her fourth three-month checkup. And everything was clear and healthy.
REJOICING!
And tears of gratitude.
This isn’t supposed to be what happens medically, but somehow we have been granted this beautiful gift and I am oh, so grateful.
Way to go, mama! Way to go, God!
personal savior
Today Richard spoke in church.
It was beautiful. His testimony of the Savior, Jesus Christ, is tender and vibrant and humble and powerful.
It was also incredibly challenging for him. To be standing in front of that large congregation with movement all over the place in front of him with sounds coming from all sorts of directions was very disorienting for his brain and he was leaking out his eye and nose and started shaking about halfway through. But he did it. He shared his love and gratitude for Jesus in such a sacred way. I hope lives were touched and hearts lifted.
One of his messages was this:
“If you don’t know now, you will. There will come a day when it will be your broken heart, your broken body, your broken mind, your broken spirit, or your broken faith. We know the story of Jesus, we know He was born in Bethlehem, we know He is the Savior of mankind, but when it’s you that is broken, that’s not enough. You need to have a personal Savior. One that not only saves the world, but saves you, too. This is the Savior I have come to know and love through my life and the one I testify is there. Your Savior and Redeemer is a personal Savior.”
I am so grateful for this man God has blessed me with. I am so grateful for my Savior and the comfort and peace and healing and cleansing He has given me over and over again.
not just rocks
See this bag of rocks?
Tears at opening them today.
During 2020, I gathered rocks. I kept seeing heart-shaped rocks on my walks and kayak trips and would pick them up. My family kind of chuckled at me, but they all knew this project of finding rocks was important to me. Then when Richard and I went on our first solo camping and kayaking trip, I stopped all over the river to find rocks that spoke to my soul. I put them in Richard’s boat.
And then I forgot about them. Not totally forgot, but mostly forgot. With teaching and work and being a wife and mother and getting stuff put away for winter and then more of everything this year, I had no idea where those rocks were and figured they had been thrown out when Fisher put the kayaks up last year.
And then today, Richard gave me a bag of rocks for Christmas.
My rocks.
Heart-shaped rocks and layered rocks that remind me of growth and the different seasons of my life and rocks that remind of a mama holding her babies.
He knew they meant something to me. So he found them and gave them back to me.
Just like Jesus does. This is the best, most tender gift and I am in awe of this good, good man I’ve been blessed to be loved by and to love right back.
secret santa
Many years ago we were adopted by a Secret Santa. Every Christmas Eve for the past 10ish years, Christmas presents have been left on our doorstep. We are deeply grateful to whomever has done this for us. Each year, I would think to myself, “I should leave a thank you note on our door in case they come again.” And then I would think, “There is no way they will come again, they have already blessed us SO much, surely they will not come this year.”
And I wouldn’t leave a note.
I should have.
Over and over again, I should have.
Because their love and generosity has been such a gift to our family.
These presents have done many, many things for our family.
- They have given us toys and games we could never afford for ourselves and we have had SO much fun with them! Multiple times they gave Fisher and Annesley big, awesome Lego sets which they played with for YEARS.
- They have given us gift cards for groceries that have made all the difference in our budget. Many times, I would have nothing in my bank account and would be able to use these gift cards to buy food for our family. Other times, we were able to use them during the case-lot sale to stock up on food storage. I can’t tell you what an incredible blessing this has been.
- They have brought our children a feeling of being seen and known and loved.
- They have helped Richard and I know we are not alone and that miracles happen and that people are so very kind and generous and good.
- These gifts have wrapped us up in a warm blanket of tender care that has carried us through many a dark day, many a seemingly hopeless time, many a devastating heartbreak that could have broken our spirits or challenged our faith. But because of the great love of these Secret Santas and so many others who have served us, we have been carried. We have been ministered to by your generous giving and thoughtful hearts.
Thank you. Thank you for your love. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for surprising us with JOY again and again. Thank you for making a difference in our family’s life by showing us how the Giver of All Good Gifts loves and lifts.
We will try to serve others as you have served us.
a little love note
Big tears running down my cheeks.
Today I was in a very long line. The group behind me was a mama and her 18 month old. When I turned around I let out a little gasp. She reminded me so much of Stella, something about her spirit felt like Stella’s sweet, impish, brightly-shining spirit. This adorable baby girl with big eyes kept reaching for me, wanting to share her cookie. If I turned away, she called me back with the cutest little “hewow.” We played peek-a-boo and I talked to her about everything around us and she babbled back at me. The mama said, “She sure likes you, she can’t get enough of you.”
After we’d moved about 20 feet in line. I asked the mama what her baby’s name is. She said Saylor.
Then I gasped big and my eyes filled up with tears and I told her about our Saylor. She said “it’s not a common name,” and I said, “I know.”
The little Stella-feel-alike, called out bye-bye to me as I tried to find my car through my tears.
What are the chances?
Probably really, really small.
I’m counting it as a little love note from our babies.
stories are light
December 6, 2019 marks a day we made a huge leap of faith and put our trust in God with everything we had.
The end result of the decisions that day were not at all what we expected. We have sobbed and doubted and raged. We have been comforted and taught and edified. We have longed for understanding.
Perhaps you are grappling with a big decision. Perhaps you are wondering if you have courage to do the hard thing you feel God calling you to do. Perhaps you are weighed down by a past decision that didn’t result in what you thought God was promising you.
And that is painful and hard and heavy and foundation shattering. At least it has been for me.
Last week I read The Tale of Despereaux (again, it’s one of my favorites) and two passages jumped out at me as bits of wisdom for these journeys of life.
“He had forgotten how dark the dark of the dungeon could be. And he had forgotten, too, its terrible smell, the stench of rates, the odor of suffering.
But his heart was full of love for the princess and his stomach was full of Cook’s soup and Despereaux felt brave and strong.”
And then this as well:“Do you remember when Despereaux was in the dungeon, cupped in Gregory the jailer’s hand, whispering a story in the old man’s ear?
I would like it very much if you thought of me as a mouse telling you a story, this story, with the whole of my heart, whispering it in your ear in order to save myself from the darkness, and to save your from the darkness, too.
‘Stories are light,’ Gregory the jailer told Despereaux.
Reader, I hope you have found some light here.”
Isn’t that beautiful and oh, so powerful? When you are facing hard things or trying to recover from hard things, perhaps those three things will be helpful.
- Being in a place of love
- Feeding your body good stuff
- Feeding your mind and heart stories of courage and light and goodnessLet’s lift and love and nurture each other through the dark times with love, delicious food, and beautiful stories.
annesley turns 14!
Happy 14th to Annesley! Such a fun day with presents this morning, then I was able to take Esther and Annes to lunch and ice skating. Then we got home to a big surprise – my mama showed up and totally filled all our hearts with JOY! Then cheesecake and games with the whole gang tonight.
This girl has been such a giant ray of sunshine in our lives and we are so grateful she is part of our family. She loves learning, liberty, acting, music, science, inventions, camping, kayaking, laughing, aerial silks, rock climbing, arm wrestling (and winning the boys), snowboarding, and most of all, spending time with her family.
We love her SO much!
15 months
This week marks 15 months post-brain surgery. What a journey of tears and laughter and courage and faith and exhaustion and most of all, of people and God loving us and carrying us through the hard.
Richard is doing so well. He continues to improve in his abilities and we are figuring out how to help him better.
He is working…three jobs actually. One as a behavioral consultant for School District 91, one as a behavioral therapist for a developmental disabilities company, and one as a hospice chaplain. The second and third jobs are only 2-5 hours a week. We are sooooo grateful he has been able to work and bring income into our home. All three jobs are a lot for his brain and body and he is SO done by the time he gets home. He has two more weeks of his school job and we are really hoping his summer schedule will allow him to get some much needed rest and healing in before school starts again in the fall.
He is working on his bike riding skills. He rode four miles two weeks ago, WAHOO! Then nothing this past week because it was play week for Annesley…so nothing extra for his brain because the performances are so hard for him to attend. This week he has set a goal to ride a total of 15 miles! We are looking into getting him a bike with bigger, softer wheels to give him more traction and comfort, but we are still in the testing phase with that idea.
A few weeks ago he started wearing an ear plug in his good ear when he is in a crowd of people. He says it helps his brain to sort out what the important sounds are so he doesn’t get as worn out as quickly. He still can only endure an hour of church and then he has to come home and sleep for several hours to recover.
His eye and nose are leaking more lately. He isn’t sure why, but thinks he is not getting enough rest. We have been really busy with plays and late nights with our kids and with his three jobs, he isn’t resting as much as he needs, so we are hoping the summer schedule will turn that around.
Some interesting things…for your humor needs…and understanding of brain injury…
- I found out recently that he didn’t wear deodorant for four months! He ran out and thought he would pick some up that night. But he forgot. The next day he forgot. And the next. And the next. For FOUR MONTHS! Finally one day after a really warm day, I noticed he smelled funny and asked him what was up. He confessed that he was out of deodorant and had been for months. I asked him why he didn’t put it on the shopping list and have me or Keziah pick it up and he said that every single morning he would make note of it in his brain to pick it up that day after work and then every single day would forget. I asked why after a few days he didn’t just tell one of us to get him some and he said he truly thought he could remember, but then he would forget again. So hilarious. And a bit sad, don’t you think?
- His brain has a hard time staying focused on a task. Yesterday I asked him to count some pills to see how many we had left. It took him a very long time because he had to keep starting over because he couldn’t figure out where he was in the chain of counting.
- A few weeks ago I needed him to replace the load wheels and tracks on my Elliptigo. The project required fine motor skills that were too much for his brain to focus on and he dropped the parts probably 30 times before he was able to get them on correctly. It took him several hours to do a job that should maybe have taken thirty minutes. The thing that amazed me the most was his patience with himself. If it had been me I would have been SO frustrated and ranting, but he just kept picking the little pieces up and trying again and again and again. (Lesson for me – perhaps figure out how to do it myself or have someone else do it next time!)
- People out in public don’t know what to think of him. They don’t know that he can’t hear on his right side so if we go out to eat or are with people who are trying to talk to him, he can’t hear them if they are talking on his right side. We try to explain that we need them to speak to his left ear and move him so his left ear is facing them, but people don’t understand and either keep talking to his right ear, start shouting, or give up and just talk to me instead. I’m not sure what the answer to this is, but so far we just keep having me tell him what people are saying. I lean in to his left ear and he can hear me just fine.
- About a month ago, I was driving to Wyoming past several of his favorite fishing streams and proposed the idea of dropping him off and letting him fish for a couple of hours while I was driving and then picking him up on the way back. He wanted to SO much. But he said his brain was too tired to fish especially because it was breezy outside. He said he didn’t think he could handle the sounds from the wind and the casting at the same time. If you know him at all, you know that is a really big deal. I didn’t think I would ever hear such things from his mouth!
I am amazed at his determination to show up for our children and me even when it is really, really hard for him. I am amazed at how he tries so hard to do things around the house even though it completely wears him out. I am amazed he is working three jobs plus all sorts of side appointments with family and friends who need his skills with their children or themselves. I am filled with immense gratitude for his kindness and patience and willingness to keep trying things that are incredibly challenging for him. He doesn’t get mad or irritable with his limitations, just keeps trying.
He has some big goals for this summer. They may prove impossible. At this point, they are looking impossible. But we are all going to do our best to help him make them happen. He really, really, really wants to go on a one night backpacking trip. This means he has to be able to walk on uneven ground for a good distance and carry at least some sort of pack. I told him Fisher and Annesley would carry all the stuff, but he says that doesn’t count (in my mind it totally counts!). Right now he can walk about a mile on paved ground. So walking multiple miles on uneven ground seems impossible. But that is what we are working towards! He also wants to work on bike riding more and be able to ride with us. And he wants to work on his crossbow skills so he can go hunting with Fisher in the fall. All these things are hard. Dang hard. But he is cheerfully determined to keep working towards these goals.
He is my hero. I love him so deeply and am so grateful I get to walk this journey with him.
missing them always
Sometimes my heart skips a beat and my breath catches and time freezes when I see our children’s names or see a baby that reminds me of them.
Sometimes I sob.
Sometimes I get quiet.
Most of the time the people around me have no idea I’m dying inside. Not because I’m hiding it, just because somehow I’m in this place of living and grieving at the same time.
Always I miss them. Always I yearn for them. Always they are in my heart.
Last week a cousin on Richard’s side named her baby Saylor…spelled my way instead of like the occupation of a sailor…and it shocked me to see that name on a baby announcement. I was so happy for them AND felt so grief-stricken at the same time that our Saylor isn’t here crawling all over the place and making mischief.
Yesterday I was driving down the street in Afton, Wyoming and saw a sign for a restaurant named Stella’s and time stood still as I gasped for breath. I had Mikelle’s precious children in my backseat and as I dropped them off a few minutes later, my heart broke again.
My friend has a dog named Stella. A precious two-year old named Stella in a neighboring town was just diagnosed with leukemia. A little girl who used to live in our ward is named Stella. It seems there are Stellas everywhere. And it rings loud in my soul over and over again that we don’t have our Stella in our arms.
I recognize that it would be incredibly challenging to have them here given the past year of our life and the reality of Richard’s abilities…and mine, but that doesn’t mean our hearts don’t ache with missing them.
I call Richard on the regular and just cry as he says all the right things. He sees a look in my eyes and he just knows and lets me melt into his arms and sob.
And then we pick up the pieces of our souls and keep on living…which sometimes feels impossible…but somehow day after day it keeps happening. I don’t know how and I can’t talk about it very well, because the pain is so deep, so pervasive that I can’t find words to describe it. But I feel a need to chronicle this journey in some way so there is a record of the heartache.
I'm Tracy, a mama with big dreams, crazy ideas, loads of laughter, an insatiable desire to learn, and enormous piles of laundry.
