In Your Hearts
Onward, ever Onward.
I am about to commit a number of blogger faux pas. They will include but are not limited to: talking about God, discussing life’s purpose and quoting from the scriptures (Mormon scriptures at that!). I understand that this may be a bit much to take before your morning constitutional, so I apologize in advance. I promise to get back to Meg in Progress’s regularly programmed schedule of chick-fil-a and sex posts as soon as possible. (And lest there be any confusion, let me assure the dear reader that those are two different kinds of posts. I believe in the separation of fried chicken and ahem, the ‘s’ word.)
Two days ago I sat with my dad in his hospital room full of pictures and black wires. He visited with a man from church and they discussed many precious and tender things. My dad looked just like himself. I sat in the corner and listened to them talk. I have always loved listening to my dad speak and for just a moment I was the little girl I left behind somewhere over the passing years. The one that listened for the sound of his footsteps on nights when he got home after I had already gone to bed. The one that stole books from his shelves he said I wasn’t old enough to read. The one that knew he was really one half of Santa Claus and thought that made everything even more magical. (Four year old me knew mom had to be involved too as Santa’s handwriting looked just like hers.) Parents that stayed up all night, pretending to be a mystical elf because they wanted us to be happy? What could be more wondrous than that?
So I sat with my knees curled up under my chin and listened. My Dad talked about a trip he took with my brother down to New Mexico a few months ago. One night while they were driving under an ink black sky dotted with light they talked about life and trials and the power of faith. He told my brother that in all of our lives there comes a point, a time of searing pain and unanswered questions, when we find there is no room for equivocation. In these moments of extremity we have only two options. We can curse God and hate Him for the trials He did not lift from our shoulders. Or we can accept that this life with all of its light and darkness is part of a plan founded on pure love. And while we may not always understand the heartbreaks that lay across our journey, we can be certain that the Lord’s path leads to happiness. That His will is gracious and there need be no fear in embracing it, come what may. As he told us about that night that felt so far away, he spoke with his eyes closed and I could feel the power of a truth that existed long before the man that makes up so much of my world.
The next morning we were told that the only course of action for his cancer is a bone marrow transplant.
“But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.” – Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 2:24
We were not sent here merely to sing and hope and then die. We were sent to grow, to stretch, to break a bit so that we could be pieced back together into a form with more depth and light. We were sent here to become, even in the most humble way, something more like Him. Over the past five weeks I have seen my daddy, my Santa Claus, stretched out and broken down one piece at a time. But I have also seen him grow. I have watched his faith and understanding expand. His form is changing and there is new, hard earned light in the brown of his eyes. This lesson is not just for mortality. As we all walk hand in hand through this, he is becoming the man the Lord created him to be.
I have good hope that this transplant will be successful. By this time next year, my dad will be making us green chile enchiladas while we sit at the kitchen counter and tell him about our day. We are blessed with the miracle of modern medicine. I thank the Lord that we were live in this time and in this place.
The world I live in today is much different than the one I lived in five weeks ago. So much of what I once hoped has become what I now know. I know the Lord is aware of me in every circumstance and every concern. We are never alone. I know Christ’s Atonement is all encompassing. It lifts up and completes each of us. There is no cause for fear. And sometimes when I am quiet enough, I can almost see beyond the horizon of this life and I know truly that there is joy there.
In this moment of extremity, I choose the Lord.
“And…I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” – Doctrine and Covenants 84:88
Lovely painting: Get Ye Up into the High Mountain, O Zion, by Minerva Teichert
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So many beautiful, truthful words to warm me up this early morning. Thank you!
Thank you SO MUCH for reading and commenting! Maybe one morning we can go get hot chocolate and warm up for real! Eh?
Love this post. I hope my daughter will look up to me as much as you look up to your dad.
Eric,
Thank you so much for reading. And please, Ginger is a lucky, blessed girl with you as a dad. She couldn’t have asked for better. Really and truly.
I honestly don’t know how you write so beautifully about something so difficult. I’ve thought a lot about you in the past couple of months wishing I had the same faith that you have. When Claire was in the hospital, your testimony kept ringing in my ears when you said, “I know that if there is a next time, and the answer isn’t what I want it to be, it will be ok.” I try to have those feelings settle in my soul, but I’m still that naive, resistant girl that needs to grow up and learn a thing or two about life.
I’ve been hoping and praying that it wouldn’t come to a transplant. What an ordeal for your family.
We will keep him and your family in our prayers! Love you!
Oh. Stacy. Can we just go get ice cream and forget the past six weeks have ever happened? I love your comment and I love that you think I am stronger and better than I am. It helps me believe that while not there yet, it might be possible. Prayers for health for Claire bug.
Beautiful. Thank you for your words. I wish all the best for your dad!
Thank you for reading, Court. I miss you and hope all is well with you and yours. Love you!
No apologies necessary, Meg. Really. This is wonderful. I’m sorry to hear that your dad has to get a transplant–and grateful that it is possible. I’ll keep praying for you guys. Love you lots!
“Grateful it is possible” YES! Me, too! I love that you ALWAYS have the right attitude. LOVE YOU. THank you for commenting. I always look forward to it.
loved it, Megan! my niece just checked it today to start chemo for her bone marrow transplant coming up this month. Her younger sister will start a week later.
It touched my heart, just as this experience did yours. Thanks for posting 
We got to do baptisms at the Mt. Timp temple with her last night. It was such a beautiful experience and she was so gorgeous with her shaved head and naive little smile.
My prayers are with your family, Jillian. Love you dearly.
Megan, my heart and prayers are with you and your family…especially your father. I shed tears as I read your thoughts. As I have just gone through this same type of spiritual growth with Eric’s car accident, I can certainly that the Lord is in the Details of our Lives. As I look back from the miracle of healing process I can see how He was with me every step of the way, preparing me even before I knew that I needed preparing. Eric is working on his 5th page in his journal testifying of all of the good things that have come out of his accident. Hearts have been softened, paths have been defined, testimonies have been strengthened, miracles have been witnessed. The Lord truly knows what you and your family need to be refined in his fire to qualify for His Celestial Kingdom. Make sure that all family members have been given blessings too, not just your father. The strength received from that is invaluable. I know the Lord loves you and is always with you. This is just the beginning of your incredible journey, keep documenting it and you will see His hand in everything! Love ya, marilyn
So lovely. Thank you so much, Marilyn. Many prayer being sent your way, too.
Beautiful, meg. Praying for you but it doesn’t sound like you need it much. Big hugs, miss you, love you
I love you. I miss you. Let’s talk.
you are so amazing. this was a great post. i hope your hanging in there and your dad is feeling ok. what hospital is he at?
You are so kind. He is at LDS Hospital. Although he is home for about a week right now. AND WE ARE LOVING IT. How are you???