My Friend Dixie

Last Friday I woke up very uncomfortable.  I had a bladder infection, or something like, and just walking around was agonizing.  Dixie was due to come at 9 am, but I wasn't up to cleaning with her, so I called to cancel.  She was hesitant, wondered if there wasn't something she could do to help because I wasn't feeling well, or something she could do while I rested.  I said no, because the thought of someone cleaning my house while I lie around is totally uncomfortable for me.  Then I prayed about what to do--I wanted relief immediately!--and felt like I should have a sitz bath.

Sam was able to work from home and handle the kids that morning while I sat in the tub, for which I was very grateful.  As I was sitting there, beginning to feel better, the doorbell rang.  I knew immediately it was Dixie, and felt a little annoyed.  The kitchen was a mess, as was the front room, and both were totally visible from the door.  I didn't want to get out of the tub, and I didn't know what to say.  Sam came to the bathroom door to confirm that it was Dixie, and that she wondered if she couldn't help.  I told him to thank her for stopping by.  He thanked her, and she left, again with hesitations.

When I got out of the bath, Sam told me that Dixie seemed like she really wanted to help--like she needed to help, and would really appreciate the chance.  That was why I had asked for her help in the first place--because she seemed lonely, and like she had the time and inclination to be of service.  Yet, when I really needed help, I was still too embarrassed to receive it.  I got dressed and knelt to pray in gratitude for the swift relief of my symptoms, and just to start my day.  I felt like I should call Dixie back, now that I was feeling better, and accept her offer of help.  I didn't have to call.  Half-way through my prayer, Dixie called again, offering help one more time.  I accepted.

As we worked together, Dixie explained that she just kept feeling that even though I was saying I didn't need anything, I did, and that she ought to come.  She said once she did come, she knew I could use her help, and should've just insisted on helping, but didn't want to be pushy.  We cleaned the kitchen and front room, and did other odds and end, and it felt so much better!  Having someone to work with, having a partner, and a friend makes such a difference.  She didn't want me to pay her for the work that morning--said that I'd told her not to come, after all.  She just wanted to help.

I felt grateful for my friend, Dixie that morning, and I continue to.  I forget that allowing someone to serve me can be a way of blessing her life.  Dixie reminded me, by her determination and desire, and it made my day.

Valuing Dad

Mom and Dad came to visit, and it was wonderful to have them here.  It was interesting to see how Alzheimers has affected Dad, and affects him moment to moment.  I have sometimes (randomly!) pondered on what I would do if I were to suddenly find myself deposited in another time, place, and culture, in the body of someone who belonged there, and was expected to act "normally."  Would I be able to pull it off?  How? I think I would try to do as little as possible and pick up on as many clues as possible, but still I'm sure I'd make some terribly weird mistakes.  In watching Dad, it seems to be that essentially, that is the experience he is having.  He doesn't recognize his surroundings (at least, not at my house), or the people he is with.  He doesn't know how to complete basic processes (like using a broom to sweep the floor), or even recognize simple objects (sink, trash can, dishwasher, table, counter, broom, cell phone, cup, etc.) He also has the incredible disadvantage of not being able to use the social clues that are given, because he forgets them so quickly.  

Yet, Dad is still Dad.  Inside the confusion is the thoughtful, positive man who loves people, loves helping, and  has strong, tender feelings.  The first day they came, Dad said to me with a grin "It sure is nice to get to spend time with neighbors like you."  Dad had no idea who I was, but he was determined to make me feel appreciated.  As he tried diligently to help around the house, he frequently commented "I'm available to help with anything you need!"  He was totally ready and willing, so it was painful to see how unable he was.  When asked to help clear the table, he couldn't find the table.  When handed a cup to put in the dishwasher, he couldn't find the dishwasher.  He wandered around the kitchen, finally stopping at the trash can and saying "This dishwasher?"  

The morning they left, Mom and Dad helped me move a really big dresser to another room.  It was very heavy and we needed everyone's strength.  It was an exercise in frustration for Dad, though, because he wasn't understanding our directions ("lift UP!", "push forward", "grab the cardboard" were all incomprehensible) and he felt our frustration.  He wanted to walk away, and we needed his help.  We got it done eventually.  It was interesting to me, in the midst of the process, that Dad made the important suggestion: "We need to take all the drawers out!"  We couldn't, unfortunately, because of the way the darn thing was constructed, but it surprised me for Dad to come up with such a lucid idea.

Through the week, I also monitored my own interactions with and attitude towards Dad.  I'm afraid there was a lot of condescension.  It was hard for me to think of how to say things in a way that didn't obviously point out a failing.  Usually I just kept my mouth shut.  I didn't want to hurt his feelings, or treat him like a child, though I know I did, again and again.  His example is the one I should follow--lots of appreciation, encouragement and enjoyment of his company.  

For FHE, Sam asked Mom and Dad to share their testimonies.  Dad shared his sense that there would be a time of "opening" ahead.  He shared his feelings of love for people, for family and friends, and that he looked forward to being together.  He also talked about his love for scriptures that invite  us do good.  His words were so thought provoking.  My vision of him is as a geode, with layers of confusion, grey and heavy encasing a stunningly beautiful treasure.  He will have a time of opening, when the glory of his being is laid bare again, and illuminated by the light of God.  His presence also invites us--to measure ourselves in our interactions with him, to strive to be better in our treatment of him and everyone around us, and to see the greatness in even the least of our brothers and sisters. That he is able to do as much--to encourage, love, appreciate, express gratitude, enjoy beauty, serve diligently and humbly--with the debilitation of Alzheimers is an invitation to me to become the sort of person that he is--to truly make my heart a beautiful treasure.

Ethan

The kids school starts at 7:40 am.  At 7:30 am, Sam and the kids were heading out the door, I was not dressed for the day, and Isaac was still in bed.  We got a call from school saying that the counselor and assistant Principal needed to conference with us immediately.  In five minutes.  I needed to come to school.  I rolled my eyes about it.  Good grief, what could be so disastrous that our morning needed to be thus interrupted?  I threw on some clothes, Sam grabbed Isaac, and we headed out.  Here was the problem:

Apparently in his spare time yesterday, Ethan, who likes to doodle and is fascinated by weapons and explosions (isn't that pretty common among boys?) recalled a picture of a schematic for a uranium bomb that he'd seen in a book about WWII last year.  He drew it with some modifications.

When it fell into the hands of his teacher and then Vice Principal, the drawing became a security threat to the school.  I admit, I laughed in the face of the Vice Principal when he said this.  (Do you really think my 10 year old has the wherewithal to construct a uranium bomb?) He was very serious.  He had called the District office about it already.  I controlled myself and asked him to explain more.  Apparently with the rash of violence in schools--students gunning each other down and all that--they had to view this as a threat.  Ethan's teacher had spoken up for him--said he was a sweet boy, and didn't seem to have any desires to destroy the school (much less, may I add, the whole city, which is what would happen if he were to follow through with his "threats" to make a uranium bomb.)  Nevertheless, this was a serious issue and needed to be addressed.  Sam had already explained the problem to Ethan on the way to the school (I guess he'd heard it over the phone) and secured a promise from Ethan that he would draw no more such pictures.  Of course, if Ethan were really harboring destructive intentions, not making drawings of them would hardly stop that. . .

The Vice Principal then explained that if it were some other kid in Ethan's class drawing pictures of bombs, I would be worried, too.  (I wouldn't at all, actually.  I think it is amazing that Ethan recalled the diagram with any degree of detail, and would be impressed with another kid, too.  Ten year olds making uranium bombs to blow up their school is not on my list of worries.)  But I suppose he could consider it a threat simply because it was an object of destruction?  However, since Ethan has been drawing pictures of warring armies with guns, cannons, bows and arrows, tomahawks, etc, since he was in kindergarten, and we haven't been brought into conference for any of those things, it seems like there was particular significance in the U-bomb for him.  Whatever.  If Ethan had drawn a picture of a closed soda bottle with vinegar and alka-seltzer in it exploding under the desk of his teacher, I would be concerned.   Ethan knows how to make things explode, and he frequently asks to carry out that particular experiment.  He also knows how to make a fire with a magnifying glass, and sharpen a pencil sharp enough to hurt someone with.  If he expressed "plans" in terms of any of those things, I would take it very, very seriously.  But it seems blatantly obvious to me that to a 10 year old, a uranium bomb is just "cool."  When I talked about it with Ethan afterwards, he confirmed as much.

So, with that introduction, here are some pictures of my sweet, inventive 10 year old who scared the spit out of his school today! ;-)

Ethan likes making funny faces.

Ethan using a magnifying glass to melt tar on the road with friends.

Ethan picking weeds (and roots!) to earn money for a video game he wanted to buy.

Ethan in the reading corner at Gram's house.

Ethan, on being told that for his birthday he got the WHOLE box of Cheetos!

Sharing a bag of Bugles with Isaac and reading.

Ethan with his daddy.

Nourishing Faith revisted

From 9/23.  I'm having trouble remembering to push the "publish post" button apparently.

After pondering on the problem of nourishing, preserving, and sharing faith in atmospheres and communities where such is not the norm, I decided it is well within the realm of possibility.  Of course, doing what we know is the challenge.

Basically, I can continue to do what I am doing--giving more heed to the voices which advocate faith than those that don't.  I can chose to listen to conference talks on the computer as I clean the kitchen.  I can read the scriptures daily, and read through the Ensign over the month.  I can be choosey about the movies I watch and the media I bring into our home.  Not having a television has made that job much easier.  I can read the scriptures daily with the kids as a family, and encourage them to read personally, too.  I can go to church on Sunday and prepared for and participate in the meetings.  See?  Not so hard!

I was reminded, as I pondered that question, that Satan has no power that we do not give him, and the Lord has prepared a way for us to live the gospel, no matter what our circumstances.  I choose how I frame a situation--my paradigm is created from my thoughts patterns, and though those thoughts are often influenced by chemicals/hormones and physical considerations as well as the influences I am subjected to (often my own choice), they are nevertheless mine to choose.  I love this article as I struggle with depression, and negative thoughts.  Likewise, struggling with doubt, I can choose faith.  Alma said we only need to have a desire to believe.  If we really desire faith, we choose to fill our thoughts with it.

Validation

Whoop again!  This was almost posted on 8/22.  My memory and my intentions seemed to intersect quite a bit over the last few months. . .

Going to church today was wonderful.  Participating with this community of saints validates my faith, my hope, and my desires to be happy.  It may seem odd for someone who is "depressed" to say, but I am deeply grateful for the joy the gospel brings.  I think that is a lot of the point of the gospel, and the commandments and the truths we have been given about the atonement and the eternal perspective.  With those things, our lives can be rich and happy and purposeful, even through depression or sickness or sorrow or anything else the world throws at us.

We talked about the story of Job, and his struggles and faith.  A wonderful quote was shared that struck a chord with me: Elder Orson F. Whitney said "No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted.  It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility.  All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God. . . and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven." (quoted in Spencer W. Kimball, Faith Precedes the Miracle, 98.)  

Yes! That is how I feel.  That is what I know.  Pain and sorrow can come from many, many sources and combinations of sources in this life.  Nevertheless, they can all lead to the same Source of comfort, of strength, of humility and courage and Truth.  I have said that I was grateful for my trials, and thought masochistic.  I didn't mean that I was happy to be sorrowing, or taking pleasure in pain.  That, I think, would be Satanic.  Job, also, did not enjoy his suffering, and begged for it to stop.  However, I can be grateful for the refining influence of the trial.  I have felt very clearly that the Lord's purpose is to purify and refine me.  I have felt the heat of the fire, and known deeply its pain, and I have come out of the fire and seen the change in my heart, and rejoiced.  I found there more tenderness, more hope, more trust and faith in the Lord, and an unshakable Foundation.  Just as Alma's people, who petitioned the Lord and were strengthened, rather than having their trials removed, I experienced the Lord's strengthening power while in the face of sometimes overwhelming adversity.  It was powerful to feel His presence, and to know that He knew me and walked with me, that He shared intimately in my trials.

When I emerged from the experience of having Sam's family with us, my understanding of the Lord and His ways and perspective was such that I knew that no trial could come that would confound me. I understood what was going on with this life--the dealings of the Lord.  Further trials would hurt and be unpleasant and hard, yes, but they would not cause me to doubt God's character or love.  Job "sinned not, nor charged God foolishly."  He didn't "curse God and die."  He didn't suppose that these horrible calamities meant that God was actually aloof and capricious and something like those manipulative, selfish Roman or Greek gods.  He said "Though he slay me, yet will I trust Him. . . He also will be my salvation." 

I am human, and forgetful.  Coming out of the time with Sam's family, I was very close to the Lord.  When Isaac was born two weeks later, his troubles didn't trouble me (I felt sad, but not troubled in Spirit).  The Spirit was strong, and I knew that eternally, everything would be alright.  As the weeks pressed on in the NICU, and I grew tired with lack of sleep and raging hormones, I dwindled spiritually.  I wasn't praying as much as I needed to, nor turning to the scriptures for sustenance.  I began to forget the power of the testimony.  I didn't doubt, I just didn't think about it very much.  Some months later, at church, someone brought up a situation that reminded me of the testimony I had gained and forgotten.  I was shocked that I had let the truth slip out of my daily interaction with the Lord, and out of my heart as a sustaining foundation.

It is there, though.  Some months later, in the midst of depression, I read from the book "George MacDonald" which Margaret gave me and in which I have enjoyed pondering many truths: "Man is perfect in faith who can come to God in the utter dearth of his feelings and desires, without a glow or an aspiration, with the weight of low thoughts, failures, neglects, and wandering forgetfulness, and say to Him 'Thou are my refuge.'" Though I don't know about the "perfect in faith" part, I recognized perfectly what MacDonald was talking about.  In depression, there is no "spiritual feeling," or any feeling that I would associate with having the Spirit.  Yet even in that numbness, darkness, and almost oblivion, with the weight of my grumpiness with the kids and slowness of thought, there was no doubt about where to turn for companionship and strength, council and love.  In the midst of my pathetic humanity, His foundation was firm.  I neither lost hope nor felt ripped apart existential anxiety.  I simply felt grateful for a refuge in that time of darkness.

How, how, how can I be grateful, and find peace in the midst of unhappiness and pain?  C.S. Lewis wrote a whole book describing how it can be (The Problem of Pain.)  It does not seem difficult to understand it for me, but perhaps only because I have found the way for myself.  I have not found that my faith has made me perfect.  I still lose my temper and forget to care for myself spiritually and am not living in bliss.  Unhappiness and pain are a given in this telestial world.  Having the perspective that allows me to put those in their place--temporary trials which can strengthen me and from which I can be healed and overcome--is essential for me to get through them.  Gratitude is the oil in the machine.  There is always something to be grateful for, and in being grateful, everything can go much more smoothly, though the heat is intense.

Well, this post is getting long.  I don't suppose I will be able to answer all the questions of the universe or capture all the feelings of my heart just now.  And so I will make an end.

  

On my mind

Whoops.  Thought I'd posted this on 8/20/2010

I've had a lot on my mind since James and Margaret came, and went.  I feel so grateful for their desire to help and their love for me.  I'm still working on doing what I need to do.  The last couple of days I've been more out of temper than usual, and very impatient with the kids.  Also, my "get up and go has got up and went."  This morning I needed answers, information, understanding.  I sat down and did some research on depression.  I read a great article, that I really appreciated. Wow, do I have it.  It was actually rather relieving to see how much of what I am experiencing is part of depression.  For a someone experiencing depression, I'm really normal!! ; )  The "sadness" or melancholy or dark way of seeing the world is very much a part of depression, and something that I know my siblings have picked up on and worried about for me.  I don't want you all to worry.  Worry isn't helpful.  It is a misuse of imagination, someone said.  There are many facets to Julia.  While there may be a shadow cast into my soul, and some important parts of my self are seemingly frozen, there are other parts of me that are yet free!  My faith is still soaring.  My relationship with Sam is quite strong, and healthy, and my mind is still able to discern much of the workings of my soul.

It seems like my communication has suffered--I guess I am communicating more of the negative about how I feel than positive, to illicit so much worry and the perception that I am deeply sad.  Well, some times I am deeply sad and overwhelmed and a lot of other normal depression things but other times I feel pretty normal, and that is a blessing!  Also, apparently it is a normal part of depression to feel like you've "lost your ability to feel joy and pleasure," which is something James and Margaret picked up on and tried to get me to do better at.  Speaking of which, I think I will go take a shower before picking up the kids from school.  I also went to the gym and did an exercise class today, which was a step in the right direction.  Here are some other things to know about:

Signs and symptoms of depression

Depression varies from person to person, but there are some common signs and symptoms. It’s important to remember that these symptoms can be part of life’s normal lows. But the more symptoms you have, the stronger they are, and the longer they’ve lasted—the more likely it is that you’re dealing with depression. When these symptoms are overwhelming and disabling, that's when it's time to seek help.

Common signs and symptoms of depression (I italicized the one's I'm experiencing a lot)

• Feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. A bleak outlook—nothing will ever get better and there’s nothing you can do to improve your situation.
• Loss of interest in daily activities.  No interest in former hobbies, pastimes, social activities, or sex. You’ve lost your ability to feel joy and pleasure.
• Appetite or weight changes. Significant weight loss or weight gain—a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month.
• Sleep changes. Either insomnia, especially waking in the early hours of the morning, or oversleeping (also known as hypersomnia). (I think this may be causal rather than symptomatic for me.)
• Irritability or restlessness. Feeling agitated, restless, or on edge. Your tolerance level is low; everything and everyone gets on your nerves.
• Loss of energy. Feeling fatigued, sluggish, and physically drained. Your whole body may feel heavy, and even small tasks are exhausting or take longer to complete.
• Self-loathing. Strong feelings of worthlessness or guilt. You harshly criticize yourself for perceived faults and mistakes.
• Concentration problems. Trouble focusing, making decisions, or remembering things.
• Unexplained aches and pains. An increase in physical complaints such as headaches, back pain, aching muscles, and stomach pain.

Carol in the Water

So, even though the title of this blog is "Just Julia," the thought of me being me without reference to the people who surround me, love me, and develop me is silly.  No man is an island, and all that.  So I'll be posting some pictures of the people nearest and dearest to me.  These are of Carol, playing in the water on a hot July day.

Enjoy!