Whispers

January 5, 2014, I was inspired to bear my testimony about a song by Jenny Philips, Live Like you Believe. 

You have felt the warmth of the fire.  You have seen a glimmer of light.  It's something that you have been missing inside, something that you have been longing to find.  Hold on to the yearning.  And wherever you are on the journey...  There are things you have to let go, you might feel you're just hanging on.  When you find yourself alone and afraid, questioing all the choices you've made.  Hold on to the burning, He's leading you on through the journey.  Live live you belive, live like you know, it's one sure way your faith will grow.  Listen to your heart, search in your soul and you'll find the strength that you need: His light, the gift of His peace, when you live like you believe....

Three days later, Shelby and Caden both got sick with a viral infection.  Shelby got better.  Caden kept recovering then getting sick.  Three and a half weeks later, Caden was diagnosed with Cancer.  I spent that entire year, and all the days since, growing my faith by giving all of my hope and trust to my Heavenly Father.

January 10, 2016, I was asked to give a talk in Sacrament meeting about Finding the Silver Lining.  Two weeks later, to the day, Caden started throwing up violently.  The cancer was back, as large as the first tumor, and, "Whoops, we thought your scan was clean in October, but now we can see that that is not bowel, but in fact a tumor.  Sorry."  And we spent the next six weeks enduring the worst chemo he would ever experience.  Truly, the hardest, most heinous six weeks of his, mine, and Randy's life.

June 4th, 2017, I again felt inspired to bear my testimony.  This time I sat in my seat as long as I could.  When I could take the insistence of the Spirit no more, I grudgingly went to the pulpit, even saying that I tried to stay silent because every time I got up to speak, something bad always happened.  I bore my heart out about the tender mercies shown to us through Caden's birthday party and him catching that fly ball on his actual day.  Truly, we were lead to those seats, that ball was meant to come to him.  Our Heavenly Father gave me the thought, "I see you.  I have heard your prayers that he have a good birthday in Seattle.  I'm here with you."  ...

Two days later, I write on my blog about not knowing how I would be able to handle the news a friend had just received that her son had no more options.  The next day...

June 7th, 2017-- The immunotherapy did not work.  His previous tumors have grown, and we now have four tumors, two inoperable.  We have no more options to cure him. 

As I was watching my son break and bless the Sacrament on Sunday, I was struck by how regal he looked, and how grateful I am that he was able to participate in that sacred ordinance.  I could not control the tears.  My heart was full to bursting, coming out as soft, soft sobs.  I had tears and snot smeared all over my face and I tried and tried to stop, but couldn't.  I was just so overcome with love, and looking back now, the Spirit, telling me to "look and remember."  That night I wrote my feelings on here.  It was almost a deep need to get them out, like I was lead to write them...  The next day...

Caden started feeling pain on Monday.  He'd been telling us for a few days that he wasn't feeling quite right-- he thought it was extreme allergies.  Then we got the garage sale guitar, so he thought the cramping in his back was from the position he needed to be in to play (and he played a lot over the next few days!).  Then the normal muscle soreness from going on the tube behind the boat.  But it was more.  And the muscles didn't get better as the days passed, they got worse.  Much worse.  Enough for him to say he wants a scan.  So we're waiting for our cancer scheduler to get us scheduled for one next week.  And I just know, deep in my heart, that these little nudges (and many others I have had, but didn't feel as big as these examples) are whispers from my Heavenly Father, giving me time to process and prepare for the news that was, and is, coming. 

This is the beginning of the end.