Happy Chemo-ween!

For years, when we had lots of young children, Halloween was fun, but a big hassle. All my kids wanted to wear a great costume, and they kept changing their minds about what they wanted to be. I usually ended up standing in the kitchen at eight o'clock p.m. on October 31st with a box of old clothes and a can of spray paint.

But we generally came up with a few good ones.

Crazy Cat Lady

Me with Adam. He's Dr. Who

The three youngest Spencers several Halloweens ago

Danny and my husband Wes.
Both are wearing my wigs.

This year, things were different. Now that our youngest is twelve, no one really wanted to dress up, or go trick-or-treating. Some went to parties, or hung out with friends. But the elements of surprise and silliness were gone.

There was still one person in the family who was willing to play the fool. Me.

Four years ago, my Chemo Club friends and I started dressing up in Halloween costumes on the treatment day closest to Halloween. It has made for a fun day: a neat way to see a different side of the people you see every week with a line in a vein.

Tina the Friendly Scarecrow!

(I made him wear this hat I brought. He was a good sport about it.)

I brought this cake I made . . .

And dressed as a member of the  Swedish pop band Abba.

I brought a CD with a song my daughter helped me record. The nurses hit the play button and I came in dancing and singing. Before long, people were singing along and laughing.

Here's the song we sang:

Cancer Queen

(to the tune of Dancing Queen)

Wednesday morning: it’s time to go

Gotta head out for her chemo,

Where they have the right medicine, sitting in the chair.

She’s gonna lose her hair.

She’s been told that she won’t have long,,

She’s not young, but she’s staying strong,

With a bit of Herceptin, everything is fine

This disease doesn’t sleep;

And so she’s gonna keep . . .

Being  the Cancer Queen, old and tired but still on the scene

Cancer Queen, hear the dripping of her IV (oh, yeah)

She can’t walk, she can’t drive, how long can she stay alive? (Who knows?)

See that girl, watch that scene, digging the Cancer Queen.

No one here is ready to die,

We’re not  young but we’re gonna try

Trusting Dr. Ben-Jacob, he always has a plan,

Doing the best we can,

And so we’ll make a stand  .  .  .

And be the Cancer Team, not so young but still on the scene

Cancer Team, come on over and you will see, (oh, yeah)

We will dance, we will thrive., somehow we’re going to survive (oh, yeah)

Check us out, watch the scene, digging our Cancer Queens (and Kings)

It was a lot of fun.

I didn't think that the Trick-or-Treaters who came to my door the next night would appreciate the whole Cancer Queen thing, so I dressed as a Star Trek character for that.

(I'm not a regular cast member with a recurring role, but a nameless extra you can expect will be killed by an alien species before the end of the episode.)

It was a happy, crazy, fun day.

Is it too early for me to start thinking about next year's costume? 

Fall Has Fallen

     There is Someone in charge of earth's beauty – 
     This I know.
     The trees drop their leaves as a winter-bound duty.
     But first, they put on a show.


Autumn has come to our corner of the world. (I was starting to worry that we might not have fall here this year. It looked like we might go straight from summer to winter, an occurrence that would have made me dangerously grumpy.)

It has come in glory and splendor. A few days ago, our family went on a short hike in a wooded area near our home. I was completely smitten by the loveliness that surrounds us. How blessed we are to live in the midst of such beauty!

The Doctrine and Covenants tells us that God has created the beauties and seasons of the earth for our use and pleasure:

       Yea, and the herb, and the good things which come of the earth, whether for food or for raiment, or for houses, or for barns, or for orchards, or for gardens, or for vineyards;
       Yea, all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart;
       Yea, for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strengthen the body and to enliven the soul.
       And it pleaseth God that he hath given all these things unto man; for unto this end were they made to be used, with judgment, not to excess, neither by extortion. (D&C 59:17-20)

We are also blessed to live in a home with fruit trees in the yard. During the past several weeks, we have been picking some tasty apples and a lot of pears.We gave pears to anyone who would take them, and thanks to the generosity of a kind friend who lent us a dehydrator, we preserved the rest.

These events have left me feeling grateful and humble. We did not plant these trees. And honestly, we don't put much effort into taking care of them. But they continue to reward us with their sweet fruit.

We did not blaze the trail through the canyon, or pave the road that gets us there. 

Several months ago, I heard someone say, "We are drinking from wells we did not dig." I remembered those words while we were picking pears,and I wondered what the original source was. As it turns out, it comes from the Old Testament:

And it shall be, when the LORD thy God shall have brought thee into the land which he sware unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give thee great and goodly cities, which thou buildedst not, and houses full of all good things, which thou filledst not, and wells digged, which thou diggedst not, vineyards and olive trees, which thou plantedst not; when thou shalt have eaten and be full;
Then beware lest thou forget the LORD . . .  (Deuteronomy 6:10 - 12)

I have never done anything to earn the light that comes from the sun. But it warms me and keeps me alive anyway. Birds sing sweet songs for me even when my bird feeder is empty. I've never dug a well in my life. I don't work to merit the rain that falls on my lawn and eventually comes out my kitchen faucet. But I drink it anyway.

When you stop and consider it, life on Earth is a pretty good deal, after all. 

For behold, are we not all beggars?  Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind? (Book of Mormon | Mosiah 4:19)

Happy fall to you, wherever you are.

Enjoy the show. It's free.

The Big Twelve

A few months ago, I wrote about an empty bird’s nest we found in our yard. I was struck by the timing of this find, since I felt that my own nest was becoming more empty with the departure of my son Danny for his mission.

Then last week, my son Adam found another empty nest in our yard. This one was sloppier, and contained more dirt and mud in its structure.

Again, I found the timing notable, because Adam found this the day after his twelfth birthday.

Of course, turning twelve doesn't mean Adam will be leaving us soon. But it does signal some significant changes, especially since Adam is our youngest.

Several years ago, seven members of our family — Wes and I and five of our children — were in Primary, the children's organization of our church. Now that Adam is twelve, there is no one left in Primary. Soon, Adam will be ordained a Deacon, and participate in Young Mens activities. And because Adam recently started middle school, it brings other changes for our family. We're done with elementary school: no more Wellsville Mile, no more school Halloween parades, no more Geography Bowls, no more Civil War reenactments for our children. All our kids leave for school at the same time now, on the same bus. So this twelfth birthday seemed like a significant one.

Adam at the Wellsville Mile (annual school race)

Adam at the fifth-grade Civil War Reenactment (aka water balloon fight)

We always try to make birthdays special, so I poked around the internet until I found a this fun idea: a candy-filled birthday cake we labeled Big Candy Mountain. 

Adam’s eyes lit up when he saw it.

 And when we cut into it, the candy I had hidden in the center spilled out.

We all enjoyed eating the cake.

So, my youngest child is on his way to becoming a teenager. I can be okay with that.

Probably.

The Invisible Mom: A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in a far away place, I had a job. I sat in my office and worked, and people liked my work, and gave me money.

I had co-workers, managers, and assistants and other people who talked to me and asked me questions and liked my ideas.

There was also someone in the office called "The Custodian." The Custodian was someone we rarely noticed or paid much attention to. When we came to work in the morning, our wastepaper baskets had been emptied, our desks were dust-free, and the floor was vacuumed. Occasionally we left a brief note for the nameless Custodian, when we needed something done better or had an unusual request. But for the most part, The Custodian was invisible, ummentioned, unrecognized.

A few years ago, it occurred to me: I have become The Custodian. I move, invisible, through the house, using my mysterious magical powers to make clean socks show up in drawers, hot food appear on the table, and stains disappear from neckties. I can't turn a pumpkin into a carriage, but I can make it into a pretty good loaf of pumpkin bread.

This lack of visibility has occasionally made me a little sad. Lately, it's made me just a bit annoyed. My kids are old enough now, I think, to notice and acknowledge that they have a mother, and that she works hard for their benefit.

Then this past Sunday I was writing to my son Danny, who is serving a mission in the Philippines. I didn't have much to say about my week, so I wrote about the church meeting we had attended earlier that day.

Today Sacrament Meeting was all about worshiping the Savior through music. It was just musical numbers and people talking about the songs they were performing. It was really good.

Andrew Johnson played "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" on his violin, with his mother Rosie accompanying him on the piano. It was beautiful, and made me think of you. Do you remember that when you were about two years old I used to sing that song to you? You loved it, and asked me to sing it often. "Sing 'the man' song," you'd say.

I learned that the song was originally a poem called "The Stranger" by a good man named James Montgomery. He wrote it in 1729 as an answer to the question in Matthew 25:37-38: "Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?"

I can't know this for sure, but I think the man who wrote the poem that became the song would have liked King Benjamin's sermon: And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God (Mosiah 2:17).

When I heard the song today, I thought about yesterday, when we had a day of service in our ward. We (our family) cleaned the church and then went to a single sister's house to pick up sticks and rake leaves. I realized that we needed more rakes and bags than we had, so I asked Dad to go home and get some. He asked me, "What's our goal here?" and I didn't know what to say, but after he left I knew the answer: Our goal here is to serve our neighbor the way the Savior would. And that means doing the best we can.

That is what you are doing now, Danny. You are reaching out to the stranger, to the poor wayfaring man of grief. You are living the Gospel of Jesus Christ, teaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and serving as He would. Of course, you are not doing it perfectly. But you are doing it with a clean heart and an eye single to his glory. And what a great blessing it is to be able to serve that way!

And then after the meeting I went to nursery and built a ramp for the kids to slide their little cars down. They flew off the table and if they landed in the bin I put on the floor, we clapped and cheered. Then we had fruit snacks and mini-marshmallows and I taught a lesson about the sacrament. Good times!

The Church is true, Danny, whether you are in the High Priests quorum or in the nursery; whether you are in Providence, Utah or in the Philippines. We ever pray for thee — keep up the good work.

With great love,

Mom

After I wrote this, I suddenly realized something kind of big: it's not always a bad thing to be invisible. A lot of the time, it's best to serve anonymously.

Christ didn't put on a show of good works. He served quietly; sometimes invisibly.

And, behold, there came a leper and worshiped him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Jesus saith unto him, See thou tell no man; but go thy way (Matthew 8:2 - 4).

And they bring unto him one that was deaf, and had an impediment in his speech; and they beseech him to put his hand upon him. And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spit, and touched his tongue; And looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened. And straightway his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain. And he charged them that they should tell no man (Mark 7:32 - 36).

.

When I thought about that, I felt better— better about my life and my role in my home. I decided I could, and should, find joy in serving my family in an unpretentious way.

Don't fairy tales always have a happy ending?

Misheard Purity

The following conversation, or one very similar to it, is not uncommon in my family:

"Mom! You're singing again!"

"What? Was I singing out loud? Oh. But hey, I think I have the right to sing if I want to."

"But not in the grocery store/hallway at church/parent teacher conference/insert embarrassing public place here!"

"Well, excuuuuse me!"

"And that's not how the song goes, anyway!"



I love music of almost any kind. And I always like to sing along with the songs I hear on the radio, or on the CD player, or just what's in my head. I suppose this might be annoying to anyone who happens to be nearby. (I'm not really a good singer.) It certainly annoys my children.They get particularly cranky about it when I don't get the words right.

It's true that the fact that I don't actually know how the song goes is not a barrier to me singing it. When my husband and I were first married, we were listening to a song while we were in the car. One line of song goes, He gave her a shawl and a parasol from France.
My somewhat less romantic interpretation: He gave her a shawl and a pair of swollen glands.

Apparently I'm not the only one. A quick internet search reveals that many people believe that the lead singer of the band Toto sings I left my brains down in Africa. Another song is sometimes believed to contain the line Every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you.

Maybe singers need to enunciate a little better.

One of my children told us that when he was very young, he was confused by the meaning of a line in the song "I Am a Child of God."

     Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way;
     Teach me all that I must do, to live with Him someday.

Our son wondered for some time why he would want to be taught
that he is a stew.


But I think sometimes the misheard lyrics are better than the real ones. For me an example of this is "Don't Know Why," by Norah Jones. I like the song, and was especially fond of this (misheard) line: My heart is dressed in white. Turns out the actual lyric reads, My heart is drenched in wine.

I was disappointed to learn this, and I still sing along with my own preferred words.White has traditionally stood for virtue and purity, and the idea of a heart so sweet and pure and innocent that it can be dressed in white is very appealing to me.

Tomorrow, my daughter will attend the Logan Temple to receive her endowment. (For more info about Latter-day Saint temples and what happens there, click here) She – along with me and her father and her grandparents and everyone else there – will be wearing white. And I suppose their hearts will be dressed in white too.

This doesn't mean that everyone there will be perfect. Or that anyone there will be. But they will gather in faith, sharing in common their belief that through the atonement of our Savior Jesus Christ, their hearts can be made pure – not just dressed in white, but pure through and through.

The scriptures have some things to say about hearts that are pure.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God." (New Testament; Matthew 5:8)

O all ye that are pure in heart, lift up your heads and receive the pleasing word of God, and feast upon his love; for ye may, if your minds are firm, forever. (Book of Mormon; Jacob 3:2)

Therefore, verily, thus saith the Lord, let Zion rejoice, for this is Zion—THE PURE IN HEART; therefore, let Zion rejoice . . . (Doctrine and Covenants; Section 97:21)


I am looking forward to tomorrow with all my heart.

I hope my heart comes home a little more white  – a little more pure.