Friday Four or Five

1. Cancer sucks. I really hate it. My heart is breaking for sweet Brodi Ashton who just lost her incredible dad to cancer last night. Their family was so sweet and supportive and positive when we lost Josh, and I wish I could do something for them now. Please keep them in your prayers.

2. My son made me breakfast this morning! He's only six, but he heard me talking to his dad about how late I was up finishing my latest revisions, and then how Baby Girl kept waking up the rest of the night, and decided to surprise me. He made me toast and cereal. He said, "I know you were up with 'Baby Girl' a lot last night and I could tell you were exhausted, so I made you breakfast so you didn't have to worry about it." Moments like that truly make everything worth it.

3. I love downloading new music, whether it's to work out to or to write to, it doesn't matter. I get so excited to write again, or for my next workout with my new tunes. I just LOVE music. Any good songs I should know about right now that you're loving? Please share!

4. It's amazing how many things can be similar--running, writing, parenting, you name it. Anything that is worthwhile is usually a mixture of being extremely hard and extremely rewarding. Often the hard times are much more common and longer lasting than the rewarding moments, too. So why do we do these hard things? Because the rewards outweigh the difficulty of the tasks. The high of finishing a new manuscript, or (hopefully) nailing a revision... the sense of accomplishment in making yourself get up at 4 am, get to the race and finishing strong with a dead sprint... the joy of having your six-year-old surprise you with breakfast, or getting a surprise hug and an "I love you Mommy" from my three-year-old, or the big open mouth kisses from Baby Girl (often complete with an affectionate bite on the shoulder [yes she bites me when she's being super affectionate, I think she's part vampire. Good thing I didn't name her Renesmee])... Those rewards are worth any pain or struggle or frustration along the way. But you have to push through the hard times to get the rewards, right? That's the trick to life. Endure the trials to be able to enjoy the blessings.

I feel very blessed today.

How about you?

picking up pieces

One of the hardest parts of tragedy is that life goes on. My sister and I were nearly overcome by that realization on Monday as we sat on the 5th floor of the hospital, staring out at a view of almost the entire Salt Lake Valley. It almost made me dizzy. SO many people. So many lives. Here we were, holding on to each other, struck to the core with pain and sorrow so deep that it grabs you and pulls you inside out, and out there were so many lives continuing on. Life must go on. Even if you want to sit down in a corner and cry for days, you just can't.

You get up and make breakfast. You dress your children. You write and work and clean and keep going.

But every few minutes, you remember. It hits you. Your eyes fill with tears, you pause, you swallow a sob because your sons are watching and they're tired of seeing Mommy cry.

And then you keep going.

Perspective is an interesting thing. How quickly it can change. What constituted a bad day a week ago is quite different than this week.

And at the end of the day, the thing that keeps you going--the thing that makes you able to get up again and make breakfast again and keep going, doing, living--is hope. Hope that someday, somehow, this will all make sense. That wounds will be healed, that hearts will be mended. That happy endings really do exist, and that Megan will be blessed with one. Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday.

Hope.

That is my hope for her. For all of us.

sometimes the answer is no

In Loving Memory of
Joshua Lloyd

We prayed for a miracle, that Josh would be healed. Yesterday, as we drove home from the hospital after saying goodbye to him, my husband told me that he wonders if death is as miraculous as birth--just not for those of us who are left behind. He wasn't healed the way we were hoping, but we know he is now free from pain and suffering. He is more healed than we can imagine. He has been welcomed home by his Heavenly Father and loving Savior. He loved Megan so much, and wanted to live so badly, but it was not to be.

Thank you all for your prayers and thoughts on their behalf. Please continue to remember Megan as she endures this trial.

Josh, we love you. You were an amazing example of faith, of determination, of fighting the good fight. You and Megan have a love that is rare and beautiful--love that lasts through eternity. Stay close to her, be her angel.

We will miss you.

In need of a miracle

Last night we all went to dinner with Megan to celebrate her birthday (it's this weekend).

Here is my cute cousin holding Baby Girl last night. That grin on Megan's face is hiding an enormous amount of heartache and fear.

We just got the news that the HLH is attacking Josh's liver and he is now in liver failure. He's been in the ICU for quite some time now, trying to get him stable enough for his bone marrow transplant, but things keep getting worse. They can't do the transplant with his liver failing, and he won't survive without the transplant. The doctors told Megan that she should consider taking him home.

But we aren't ready to give up just yet. We are asking, one last time, for prayers, fasting, even just thoughts on their behalf--whatever you believe, whatever you are willing to do. He's only 24, he's so strong and so young. It doesn't feel right to throw in the towel.

I personally believe in miracles. I believe in the power of prayer. I never intended to use my blog for religious purposes, but I am a person of faith. And I believe in the power of faith--especially when many can join together. We love Megan and Josh so much, and we are hoping and praying that he can get a miracle. That's what it will take at this point.

We love you guys. We are praying for you.

I'm gonna love you through it...

Wanna know a secret? Sometimes "Life" isn't fair. Sometimes we have to do hard things. Sometimes we choose to do hard things, and sometimes we don't get a choice.

I am running a half marathon (my first ever) on Saturday morning. One day after Baby Girl turns 4 months old. It has been an intense goal to meet in such a short time after her birth, and I've spent quite a few runs repeating my mantra in my mind: "I can do hard things."

But now it's here, and I can't wait. I may not be the fastest, or in the best shape, but I am determined to finish. Isn't that what really counts in the end? To run a good race--and to finish the race?

I have pursued publication for years. Has it been hard? Yes. Have I had some blows that were so rough that I could barely drag myself back up? Yes. Am I still going, working, dreaming, actively pursuing my goal--my lifelong dream of being published? Yes, I am. Because I can do hard things.

But suddenly, none of these things matter that much when a truly HARD thing hits someone you love. Something they have no control over, that they had no choice in having to deal with. I chose to sign up for this race, I chose to pursue publication. My beautiful cousin and her husband DID NOT CHOOSE to have to do something this hard. I'd like you to meet Megan and Josh:
This was their gorgeous wedding day, two years ago. A beautiful young couple, full of hope and life and promise and joy.

This is them just last March (and my sister and her DH as well).

Just before they went to Mexico to celebrate their 2nd anniversary recently. they discovered a lump in Josh's throat. They (and their doctor) believed it to be a brachial cleft cyst, because I'd had one just like it when I was a teenager and that is what it ended up being. He'd been training for an intense cycling race called Lotoja, and so it was decided they'd wait to operate until he did his race. After they got back from Mexico, Josh completed his race. He did great the first two legs, but by the end of the third one he was extremely sick and exhausted. However, after riding a bike for hundreds of miles, who could blame him? Or so they thought... until another lump showed up in his collarbone area.

The doctors immediately decided it was probably cancer and that they needed to operate and biopsy it to find out.

Fast forward a month and a half... and he is in a fight for his life. He has a very rare form of lymphoma. It is stage IV and has spread to his bones already. He's getting an aggressive form of chemo every other week. This last week was especially hard, as he's been violently ill with terrifyingly high fevers. They even did an appendectomy and it still didn't help. He's finally doing a bit better again, and will be able to continue his chemo this week. Once he finished chemo, he is going to need a bone marrow transplant and will spend at least a month in the hospital, most likely over the holidays.

Suddenly, the things I thought were hard? Not so much. I love these two so much. They are amazing people. They have shown nothing but courage, faith, love, and graciousness in the face of devastating and frightening blow after blow.

Can we do hard things? Yes, we can. Can he beat this cancer? YES HE CAN. Megan posted this video on FB last night, and it moved me to tears. Even though it's about women with cancer, it obviously can be switched around, as Megan is the one loving Josh through this.

I am now dedicating my race to Megan and Josh. No matter how hard it is, how my body aches, how tired I feel, I am going to push through it with a prayer of gratitude for a healthy body that can take me through all 13.1 miles.

Josh, I know you are going to beat this. We are all praying for you, cheering for you, here for you. Day or night. And I hope that all my followers will be willing to add their own faith and prayers to all those who are already rooting for you.

We're ALL going to love you and Megan through this... because we can all do hard things.