The Sanchez sisters and my mom are making an isolation quilt from our homes, each contributing hexagon flowers to put together for someone we love. We adopted this hexie obsession a few years ago, and the secret to a good hexagon quilt is the collaboration. Everyone’s style is needed, so we swap fabric scraps at the cabin each summer. The mixing of styles and personalities is my favorite part of this process.
I didn’t post much about family life in April. Days are smudged in my memory, all about the same. Sundays we gathered for dinner and to watch old home movies. Richard worked an unconscionable demand of hours, mostly from home, thankful to be employed. I have watched the clock for entertainment since my surgery, content to do almost nothing. We watched a movie almost every evening. Daniel has been a primary care giver to me, and we have had some good talks. Tim has worked outdoors, mowing and aerating, and has been faithful in completing school work. I learned quickly that I should not ask him about school. He manages his life like a boss. Mark was most content to be home, with days uncluttered by middle school nonsense. He talks through each assignment aloud, frustrations and triumphs sounding in my ears. We have eaten more takeout than usual, hoping to keep our favorite restaurants alive. Also, friends have provided a lot of meals since my surgery. I finished reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy and watched the movies. That was a good choice. April was the best and the worst. I know you can relate.
Our cute neighbors, the Zeigler family organized some entertainment for our culdesac last week: fire dancers! I watched from indoors, and could see my neighbors, gathered as families in their yards to enjoy the Isolation Burn Angels perform. It was so weird and fun.
There was no graduation ceremony, but Paige graduated last week, and we are so proud of her.
I am home from the hospital, feeling a little neglected because I am not awakened each morning at 3 or 4 am to stand on a scale and have my blood pressure checked. 😉
I have lost a length of my intestine. I have lost sleep, my appetite, and a lot of weight. But I have also lost a level of fear about this time, its isolation and uncertainty, and illness in general. People really do take care of one another. So, with all the losses, there are gains in perspective and understanding.
I am not able to focus on reading very well, so I have been reading my notes I took during my Book of Mormon study before my surgery. On the day I became ill, before I had any idea my life was about to change, I wrote these notes, under the caption of “Life Instructions during the Covid-19 pandemic”:
I do not have coronavirus. I did have a bad night and a major abdominal surgery this week. Being hospitalized right now means I have not been allowed any visitors, even Richard. I wore a mask the first day, but they took it off after my surgery. The nurses I have met are covered. I was shocked to meet my surgeon by taking his outstretched, ungloved hand. I know my caregivers by their eyes and sometimes hair, and those with a gentle and healing outlook can’t be hidden by a mask. I have not lacked for anything I really needed. I had a priesthood blessing from Richard and Daniel before we rushed to the hospital. I partook of the sacrament last Sunday. I have the things I have learned about the Spirit’s voice, Christ’s atonement, and my Heavenly Father’s love in my heart. I have been given to know what to do and when, alone in my hospital room, to help myself deal with pain and make improvements in my condition. I have not been lonely, somehow, although I miss my family. Just a day or two more.
I follow Geoffrey Walker’s Instagram account because of the way he delights in his wife’s sewing projects. This man is so good-natured and happy. Pauline is his sweetheart and he often says, “I love that girl!” They post snippets of a simple life, full of love and faith.
I follow this Instagram account because this father daughter duo is talented and loving.
I love Mr Morrill. He is a light, too.
Oh, this pandemic. I find my opinions and moods shift like the tides. I keep a copy of Paige’s paintings on the front of our kitchen cupboards to remind me that things will get better. When I am dealing with complex emotions, I ask myself where I am in The Secret Garden spectrum, and just being able to place myself in the story helps me see there is a resolution coming. Some days, I am painting number one, contrary and pessimistic. I like the painting with Collin in bed, with Mary illuminating the room with her candle. I want to be like Mary, sharing light, even though I am a little fragile, too. Richard likes the doorway opening into the garden, reminding us to keep a sense of wonder and hope. Clearing flower beds with the family was our best activity all week, and in a month or so, there WILL be pink flowers on the tree outside my living room window. Where are you in the spectrum today? Where is your robin leading you?
As we approach the worldwide fast for relief from the effects of COVID-19 tomorrow, I want to share this painting by J Kirk Richards entitled, He Healed Many of Diverse Diseases.*
As you look at this painting, what do you notice? Can you picture yourself here, and if so, which person seems most like you? What do you learn from the child in the painting? Who are the people that are ministering? Who might be feeling fear or anxiety, and what can you learn from their acts of faith? What feelings does this painting evoke? What truths about a merciful God can be found here? What can you do to point others to the Master Healer at this unique time?
I like the following graphic, but it is missing an important point: a prophet of God issued this call to fast. President Nelson is inviting us to plead for ourselves and our brothers and sisters all over the globe.
*This painting can be found in the 2020 Come Follow Me for Individuals and Families manual for the week of February 10-16, page 29.