Year Two: The Ache That Lingers

Frenchie

Everyone told me it would get easier with time. But here I am — deep into the second year — and it hurts even more than ever.

The world expects healing to follow a schedule, as if grief has a deadline. But the truth is, I still cry every night. I stare at the pillow with your face — that big, beautiful smile — and I miss it just as much now as I did the day you left. My heart still feels shattered. I still reach for you in the quiet moments, and each time I wake and realize you’re truly gone, the pain comes flooding back all over again.

I’m learning that grief isn’t linear. It isn’t something to check off a to-do list. It’s not something you “get over.” It has reshaped me—woven into the fabric of my everyday life. I’m learning to carry it, but some days I still fail.

Grief is complicated because it’s invisible. From the outside, I look delicate — maybe even strong. But no one sees the weight I carry: the lump in my throat, the restless knots in my stomach, the exhaustion that comes from pretending I’m okay. Grief is quiet and heavy, a burden most people never see.

You were my anchor. My peace. The one who helped me breathe when the world felt too heavy. Without you, I feel like half of me is missing.

Still, I move forward. I carry your absence with me like a shadow — sometimes light, sometimes suffocating. Some days, the grief feels like a soft whisper. On other days, it rages like a storm, leaving me breathless. But always, underneath it all, it’s love. Pure and enduring love.

I am learning to coexist with the sorrow. I don’t feel whole — not yet — but I am still here. I’ve changed. I’ve grown in ways I never expected since you left.

Haleigh still will not talk or text me. My heart aches for her, but I’m learning that I have to keep moving forward without her. I miss her so much, and I know this would have hurt you, too. I may never see her or our grandchildren again. So much has changed, and I no longer have the energy to keep trying to force what isn’t flowing. I’m not getting younger, and I want to build healthy, joyful relationships with the children who do reach out, who show up, who love me back.

Kayla tells me I wasn’t supposed to reach out to Haleigh — that there’s no contact rule— but I never got that memo. I send texts at random moments: I love you, I miss you. I don’t know how else to hold her in my heart.

Despite all of the brokenness, I can feel Heavenly Father near. I feel you cheering me on in the quiet moments. And while I may not be alone, I am — undeniably — deeply, quietly lonely.

I’ve decided to serve in the Mesa Temple. I’m on the waiting list for a calling — just one day a week, but as much as I can. And I’ve decided I want to serve a mission someday. In two years, when I retire, I hope I’ll be healthy enough to go. You know this was always my dream. I wanted to serve when I was twenty-one, but life had other plans — beautiful, messy, unexpected plans. Then you promised me we would serve a mission together. You promised me.

I don’t know what our mission will be, Eric. But I see it two ways:

1. I get to serve in this life — healthy, devoted, and doing good — carrying you with me in every prayer.

or
2. I finish this life and serve with you on the other side.

In either case… I win.

I love you so much. I want to do everything right while you’re gone so that when I cross that veil, I can run straight into your arms.

XOXO
Monya

The Day the Silence Spoke Back

 

Dear Frenchie,

There was a time I believed that once someone passed, they were simply gone—out of reach, out of touch, out of time. The physical pain of your absence has been unbearably hard. The silence I’ve felt is so loud, it hurts.

But then something changed.

Slowly, quietly, profoundly—I began to hear you. To feel you with me.

It didn’t happen all at once. It started with a whisper of intuition, a warmth in a room where I stood alone, a flicker of a memory that came alive in real time. I thought I was imagining it—but I desperately wanted it to be real. Over time, those feelings returned, again and again, with clarity, with power, and with love.

Grief has cracked me wide open. And in that open space, your spirit found room to enter my heart and soul. Thank you for that.

I’ve realized that spirits don’t always come with flashing lights or dramatic signs. Often, it’s subtle. It’s the beautiful sunsets and the wondrous sunrises I now love to wake up to.
It’s the song that plays when I’m thinking of you.
It’s the memory of you learning the Stanky Leg and how happy that made you.
It’s the feather on my doorstep or the ladybugs that continue to show up.
The dream that felt more like a visit than a vision.
It’s the way my body chills just before a wave of peace washes over me.

The more I’ve leaned into trust, the stronger the connection has grown. I began talking to you—first out loud, then in thought, and sometimes just through tears. And always, you responded—in your own way, not in words, but in presence. A presence so unmistakable, I can only call it sacred.

I’ve come to understand: love doesn’t die. Energy doesn’t end. And your spirit hasn’t abandoned me. Quite the opposite—you have stepped into my heart and reassured me that you are with me anytime I need to tap into that spirit.

Because of your visits, I’ve learned to stop and enjoy the small things—like you did during that year and a half before you passed away. My awareness is palpable. Strikingly overwhelming at times, but I am grateful for the continued lessons I’m learning about you.

I’ve learned to meditate by sitting in the silence, breathing air into my lungs, and feeling your presence wrap around me like a soft embrace. I only remember the good times we shared. I don’t take your presence lightly—it is profound.

Our loved ones are not “lost.” They are transformed. They walk with us, whisper to us, and when we get quiet enough to listen, they answer.

Your mom did that with me after she passed—her first visit was when I had to be resuscitated during a very long and dangerous surgery. It only lasted a few minutes, but what took place with her seemed like much longer. When I opened my eyes, I was in Heaven. Your mom was there, holding her arms out, wanting me to run into them—and I did. Her eyes were as blue as I remembered, like the Caribbean Sea. She told me Heavenly Father had asked her to visit with me, and she instructed me about three things I still needed to do here on earth.

On that visit, your dad was there too. I hugged him and felt the strength of his embrace. I told him I didn’t want to go back—that my life was too hard. He didn’t hesitate. He waved his hand to his left and said, “Do you see those children playing? Those are your grandchildren, and they need your influence and example in their lives. Now it is time for you to return to your life on earth.”

Then he looked at your mother and said something I later found peculiar: “It’s time for Monya to go back to her life on earth, and it’s time for you and I to get back to work.” Get back to work? What did that mean? I had so many questions as I tried to make sense of what had happened to me that day.

The second time your mother appeared to me was in a dream. We walked through a beautiful garden as she explained one of her “jobs” in Heaven: she oversaw it. She asked me about you, whether you were treating me with love and respect, just as Ray had treated her. She asked if I was happy. We talked about spiritual things, and I remembered why I loved her so much. She still visits me in my dreams.

I felt it when my brother, Lance, passed away. I carried shame and guilt, wondering if I had taken him to the hospital that night instead of worrying about him keeping me awake, could I have saved him?

But when Lance visited me not long after his death, he placed his hand on mine as I prayed about him. I reveled in those moments, eyes closed, listening as he spoke. I heard him as if he were alive and standing beside me. He said:

"Monya, my death is not your fault. It was my time to go, and I am happy. Now it’s time for you to move out of Mom and Dad’s house and start living. Go and enjoy your new life with Eric—he is a good person."

And then he was gone.

When Jami was diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew I needed to visit her—but I didn’t. I felt uncomfortable. How could I face someone I loved so much, someone who had already suffered so deeply?

After her death, I punished myself with guilt for not going to her. That pain became even harder to bear when I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself.

But I began to pray about Jami, and the spirit I felt was hers. She assured me she knew I loved her—and she understood why I didn’t come. She told me that now, having received the same diagnosis, I would appreciate it. She reminded me to focus on the fight ahead. She told me I would be blessed through the process and that Heavenly Father would never leave my side.

She was right. I didn’t waste energy worrying about who came to visit or who said the wrong things. I gave grace—because I remembered how I felt with Jami. And when I told you that story, you were mesmerized. You asked why you’d never had experiences like that.

I’ll never forget what I said:
I told you that you didn’t need the reassurance like I did. You were raised in a very different environment from mine.

For me, those spiritual encounters kept me grounded, alive, conscious. They carried me when I felt I couldn’t go on. It wasn’t always easy—in fact, it was humiliating at times—but I made it through.

And finally, there was Black Rock Beach.

The Lord allowed you to visit me in the very place where you took your last breath. I believe He escorted you there and left us to share sacred time together.

You told me you saw me on the beach that day—you knew I would never be the same again. You told me about where you are. You said you are so happy that where you are, there are no negative feelings or thoughts. You said Heaven is real—it’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. Then you shared your spiritual connection with Heaven and the life you now have. It was the first time I had ever seen you in this light, and it was so refreshing.

You told me you were excited to be allowed to visit me. And that I have a gift—a gift to feel the spirits of those we love who have passed.

You told me you knew you couldn’t help me any other way—but visiting me was enough. It was everything. You shared your love for the Lord and assured me He lives and loves us all. Those spiritual thoughts you shared with me are my favorite—because I had never heard you speak with such intention.

I know now, without a doubt, that there is life after death. And I can tune in to those feelings when needed. I didn’t want our moment to end. But when it did, I looked at my watch, stunned that we had spent four hours together.

I treasure your love and your presence in my life. I feel you often. And I am eternally grateful to Heavenly Father for that day on the beach—and for the life we shared.

As rocky as the beginning of our marriage was, I will always be proud of us—of our grit and determination to keep going. The world said we were a statistic, that we’d never make it. But we did. And we both know we had a beautiful love story. It is more evident to me now how much you love me.

Thank you for loving me the way you have, and for continuing to show me your beautiful, vulnerable heart. I love this part of you.

Now, when I feel that gentle tug in my soul—or the warmth over my entire body—I no longer wonder. I know.

I am a special daughter of God, protected and guided by the spirits of those who love me.

I am not alone.
I never was.
And neither are you.

I am in love with our eternal companionship.

I love you. And I look forward to seeing you again.

Love,
Me, your cute wifey

I'm Trying ...

 

I'm trying...

I have missed a few blog posts so today I will post three.  First, I went to Cleveland Clinic, had my surgery with Doctor Gustman, then flew home with Eric to recover.  I'm getting good at this.  I do not like the pain medicine, Eric gets upset if I don't take it, but I try to muddle my way through without using it.

I received an email message from one of my physicians who reads this blog, so this is for him... "You made a mistake on your blog, which was your 21st surgery in less than 5 years" "Well excuse me for the miss count, btw your nosey" "No, just want you to be exact" So there you have it, yes, I have nosey physicians.  It's a good thing I love him enough to care that he was kind enough to correct me and that I never say anything on this blog I wouldn't be proud for them to read.

I want to add this little tender mercy to this blog post because it is another one that truly took me by surprise.  I have been involved with a company I feel the Lord placed in my lap a year ago for a reason, He knows how much each of us can handle, and knowing what was about to make a life-altering change to my life, He knew I needed to be with people and circumstances that could bless my life, and it has in such a precious way.  I have made lifelong friends, who never knew me before my paralysis or cancer diagnosis.  Most don't know my story.

I recently was invited to listen to a conference call by a woman who I had already admired, for her down-to-earth, funny, humble way of telling the story of how she and her sweet husband have gotten to where they are today.  Like always I was sitting on my bed with my phone in conference mode with my notepad ready to take notes and learn something that may also help me in my venture.  I was not prepared for the emotion I would feel when I listened in.  So many who have followed my story know I use the word HOPE so much, I have studied it, pondered it, lived it, and tried to wrap myself up in the warmth of that word.  Mariel began to speak with her team, (everyone on the call is muted) that's a good thing because it was not a minute or two into the call when I began to blubber like a baby.  It was as if she was speaking to me directly. (This is not the case she had about eight hundred people on that call) I am not going to go into all my notes, mostly because I stopped taking them at this point.  She was directly delivering her message to me.  Gracefully and gently, she spoke of HOPE.  Giving HOPE to others during a time in life when so many just need to know there are people in the world who care, and who want to help make a difference. It's been 6 months that I have dedicated myself to doing something kind for someone every single day, I have been successful in doing this, and it has changed my life. It doesn't take away my own needs and realities, but it has helped me to become a better person and to learn that when I fall, I can be lifted and reminded of my potential.  I've been reminded once again time after time as I'm guided to people daily that I have so much to work on, so much to learn but by taking the hand of others like Mariel and Frank I can be led and guided with thoughts of goodness and mercy and do it with humility and grace.

I had a few days off for recovery after surgery but started back to work last week.  I love my job at USAirways.  I really had a breakthrough last week while working.  Not the place I thought this would happen, but anymore I am never surprised at what, where, or who touches my life in a significant way.

I was taking a reservation for a man, just doing my job when out of nowhere he asked me if I was OK.  Not knowing exactly what he meant I asked, "Yes I'm OK, does it seem I am not doing my job, or have I offended you?" "Oh heavens no, just the opposite you are lovely to talk to, and today I feel grateful it was you who answered the phone" A little stunned I thanked him and finished up his reservation, when I asked if there was anything else I could do to help him he said "Yes, you can" thinking he was going to either change the reservation, have me send him to rental cars or add his dividend miles number, you can imagine my surprise when this is what he said "Did you recently have a stroke? I don't mean to be nosey but your voice sounds a little staggered" for the first time I was finally able to hear the truth from someone, a stranger and for the 1st time a light went off in my head I replied "No sir, I didn't have a stroke but I do have partial facial paralysis and sometimes it is difficult to speak clearly, I'm sorry if you had a hard time with me today" I felt this sweet peace come over me, I am healing, from the inside out.

Facial paralysis has been by far the most challenging misfortunate obstacle I have had to come to grips with.  I've felt so many times that I just can't do this anymore, begging for relief, for complete physical healing.  I have felt broken, alone, and misunderstood. To finally say aloud to a perfect stranger "I have partial facial paralysis" may seem so insignificant to other people, but for me it was HUGE.  My physicians have been perfectly honest with me.  Right now, there is not much hope for a full recovery without more surgery, which I was told from the beginning.  I like to think I want to hear the full truth, the bottom line, then I can deal with it.  Boy, was I surprised at how much I didn't comprehend my own understanding of what difficulty was?

I have so many people say "...but you're beautiful" for some reason that ".... but" hesitation has penetrated my heart too many times.  I know there is not one person out there that has said those words to me who is comfortable saying it, but I've come to discern they love me and just don't know what to say, and that is OK, I don't know what to say either.  The absolute truth is, my soul, is trying to heal, and it will take some time for me to be ready to accept this new life I have been offered.

Find Me-Frozen Inside

Monday, SEPTEMBER 29, 2014

Find Me-Frozen Inside

There have been times when I've wanted to curl up and stay in the safety of a cocoon, much like a butterfly does. I've had days when I feel locked in a glass house with no way out and everyone watching. I want to fly free; I'm emotionally healing much slower than I expected. I'm trying hard to break out of the prison walls I've built around myself. I wish I had someone to talk to. I need to gain my grasp and be more authentic with people. I hide how tearfully hard it is for me not to be able to smile a big full smile; my frailties are being masked by a strong woman who has difficulty admitting her weaknesses.

I sometimes ache, trying so hard to hold back smiles or laughter for fear of what I look like to others. I caught myself wanting to laugh when I heard Ezra's huge belly laugh--he is so cute--but I caught my reflection in the mirror of our entryway and suddenly realized, "this is what other people see" This immediately took me down to a low I can't explain. I still feel so much Happiness in my heart & want to share it, especially with my grandchildren, but for some reason, I've let the adversary control my thoughts. The confusion contradicts what I feel inside, I don't understand it, so I do not expect anyone else to understand it. I'm trying my hardest to Live Happily. I love serving others; it warms my heart and lightens my load.

I love the Happiness Movement the United Nations agreed upon; the decision was made that the day will continue on March 20 of every year. I know and believe with all my heart that one person can make a difference, a rippling effect that can be wrapped around the hearts of people worldwide, regardless of race, culture, religious belief, or lifestyle. I am an ambassador of Happiness, but I still want to know if that contradicts how I feel on some days. I feel like I am on display; I see how people look at me and then quickly look away. I know because I, too, have done it. I've said on this blog that I don't believe people, in general, are vindictive or mean any harm; it's natural for a person to take a double look at something that is not what they are used to seeing. I just never thought I would be the one on display. I see them look, then look away and whisper to their friend, mother, or neighbor; they both look and quickly turn their back to me, usually because they know I have just seen what they did. The only thing that really holds me together is knowing He sees me, the REAL me--He knows I want to be me again; the sad part is because of what I've experienced, I know I will never be the same again. Although I didn't ask for this experience, I'm living it. I also realize that I have control over how I deal with the inner aching I continue to feel. I may not oversee my trials, but I have control over how I deal with them, and I choose to take it slow, understanding all that is expected of me, then proceed forward in faith and with a desire to continue to be the best I can be.

On the days when I work at UsAirways, the security guard always asks me, "how are you doing today, Monya?" and my answer is always the same "better than I was yesterday" I wrestle with what has been lost in my life, it's more than just dealing with cancer with and all the side effects. I carry a crushing weight on my shoulders when I cannot achieve my goals. I can't do this alone; my soul is tired and needs rest. I've pleaded for help so many times I seriously think I don't have any tears left to cry.
I'm giving my all, but sometimes I want to avoid hearing the answers. Saying I'm deaf is an understatement. I am so vulnerable right now; I know I need to be willing to put all my trust in the Lord's hands once more. I've been down this road before; I know this feeling. Taking a step forward is challenging, and it hurts to look backward. I want peace to speak louder than my fear. I have asked again, and again, and again "what am I supposed to learn" "What do you want me to do next?" When I'm finally ready to listen, I will go and be or do what He needs me to do.

I know this fear and pain that I am feeling needs to be turned over to the Lord, but for today, just for now, I'm frozen inside. I have no regrets; I've felt this pain before, and I will not bury it; I know I have to live it, and when I'm living in those shadows, He will find me, take me by the hand, and lead me to a brighter place.

LABELS: BLESSINGS, CANCER, FAITH, HEARING, HOPE, JOURNALING, LIVE HAPPY, LIVING, LOVE, MAYO CLINIC, PAIN, PEACE, SMILING, TRIALS 

What is a Saint?

 

SATURDAY, AUGUST 30, 2014

What is a Saint?

When I think of someone as a Saint, my mind immediately goes to Viola Williams, Eric's Mom. In my eyes, she could do no wrong; she actively would seek out the weak and weary and take them into her home for comfort from their worldly worries. The knock on the door was often in the early morning or late night, but she never turned anyone away; she loved unconditionally. Life to her was beautiful; she was raised in humble circumstances, served a mission in Hawaii, and married the love of her life Ray Williams. Ray was a postal worker, and she was an accountant. I never saw them quarrel; they learned the art of laughter and happiness together as they struggled through life's challenges together; I miss them both dearly. I look to Vi as my ultimate example and know without a doubt I will feel her loving arms around me again when I leave this life and start my new journey.

Someone recently told me, "You are a saint." To that person, I said, "I am not a Saint unless you think of a Saint as a sinner who just keeps trying to be better than they were the day before." 

Honestly, I keep tracing the steps of where I've been these past 5 years and cannot comprehend how I've been able to continue on. I read some of my old blog posts, and I can see the Lord's handwriting those words; he has been with me every step.

With this past trial, I am trying to deal with, I feel very vulnerable; it's hard to speak sometimes to people, my eyes tear up. The aching of this is so real to me; I remember not getting the Villain out of my head; it was a day-to-day struggle, fighting to stay alive. I have poured out my heart and soul to the Lord, sometimes feeling his loving arms around me and sometimes deserted and alone. The feeling of peace and knowing His grace remains with me has certainly gotten me through some unbearable times.

While talking to Doctor Northfelt, I told him it's hard for me to look in the mirror and be ok with what I see. This is a change even I have to get used to seeing; right now, I am dealing with it my way. It's hard to feel attractive for my husband; I wonder if I am sexy to him anymore. Will I be able to live with this face if I have to? I asked Eric if he is embarrassed to walk with me or hold my hand in public; I knew his answer, but I still needed to ask. This transitional period is challenging, very hard. I'm grateful for Dr. Northfelt; although I shared with him not all of what I just transferred here, he is always so good at listening.

 The people who know me know my heart, which has not changed. I sometimes feel lonely; when I was going through chemo and radiation, I had a support group, people I could talk to who were either going through it themselves or had already been down that road. We all had similar feelings and could help each other get through the bad days. I don't have anyone to talk to; I don't know anyone who has been through this life-altering trauma. I do my best to keep positive, but smiling is tricky because it looks so weird; one side smiles while the other is "normal"  Even when I am happy, I catch a glimpse of what I look like when I smile and it is hideous to look at. So this leaves me in a predicament, do I never smile or laugh again? No, it does mean that I need to learn to smile with my eyes, and listen with my heart, knowing others who love me don't see that ugly smile. They see the heart of the same ole' 'say it like it is' Monya.

 I quit trying to understand why or how this happened. I instead have been focusing on happiness; what does happiness mean to me? In December, after my 1st ear surgery, a dear friend called me and invited me to a Nerium event, the 1st three times, I said I'd be there but either forgot, or simply didn't want to know what it was. I don't remember, but Shelli reminds me of it. Finally, she invited Eric and me to the Barrett Jackson event; I didn't want to go, but Eric wanted to get me out of the house. I was still feeling post-surgical pain, so I sat with the girls in Shelli's Nerium boot; II sat and observed (you know how I love to people watch) there were a ton of men coming up and buying this cream at the time I thought they were probably just coming back because all of these girls are drop dead gorgeous. I observed the interaction these girls had with people, then I was approached by Liz Decker. She said, "so what do you know about Nerium?" I said, "Nothing, but I want in, it's time for me to get out of this cancer world, and I heard you mention you are all going to St Louis in April; sign me up for that too; I need a girls trip" I went to St. Louis had an incredible time watching person after person serve and help each other. It really was quite impressive; EVERYONE was so happy. This was precisely what I needed, get out of my cancer world and start living my life with friends I had excluded because of my diagnosis. Shortly late,r I had the emergency surgeries at Mayo Clinic, all those Nerium people came to visit me; that pierced my heart, knowing these people are REALLY genuine. Then when I went to Cleveland Clinic for 7 weeks, they supported me and kept in touch. I continued to share my thoughts about Nerium with people and even shared enough to sign up a partner from a bed with my computer. I gave out Live Happy Magazines to everyone; day by day, I could see and feel myself gaining confidence in who I am again. I was welcomed back with open arms and tearful eyes when I came home. We took off again just where I left off, not skipping a beat or feeling vulnerable at all with them; my face is different; II thought it would be a deterrent and was afraid to face them; this is an excellent anti-aging company promoting beauty and looking younger, how in the world can I represent them? Now that I look back on that, I can see the Lord's hand leading me and guiding me to this place I thought I could never be in again. With that, I have to say "thank you" to all my Nerium Family, who has truly loved me like family. I may not be moving as quickly as I had goal initially, I've learned the goal is still the same, the timing is just different, and finally, I've learned that those who genuinely love you will never leave you; this, my friends are unconditional love, so Saint I may never be, but trying to be better day by day, yes I can do that.

• ll

Back To Work

 

TUESDAY, AUGUST 19, 2014

Back to Work

I decided to go back to work; my doctors in Cleveland would have wanted me to wait a bit longer, but I couldn't sit around. I look in the mirror and I am still not ready to accept what I see; I really thought I was. Last week I finished my work; it was a difficult transition, and my eye continued to be annoyed. Cleveland Clinic PA told me to massage the lower lid to strengthen the muscle; I have been doing that, but still, it waters constantly to the point of not being able to see out of my right eye. Mayo Clinic says I have chronic dry eye, which is weird since it always waters. They are trying to fit me in this week. Work was challenging; my foot was so swollen by the end of each day, I had a tough time getting my shoes on. I tried to spend the weekend elevating it; I don't have a vital education about how nerves all I know is it takes a year for things to truly heal. If this last surgery did not work, this is what is next. They will make an incision from my hairline, ear to ear, pull back my face, take the nerve from the left side, and attach it to the right side, then wait another year.

Being at work, I felt vulnerable as I walked into the building; I usually like to smile and greet people with a happy attitude. Alot of people did not recognize me with my short hair and odd-looking face. I even had someone ask if I gained all my weight while I was gone...Yes, I did...I was on two different steroids and ballooned up a bit. I am now off them and back to my regular eating habits to get back to my average weight. When others notice, then it must be a noticeable change.

I am always amazed at what my brain can retain, and what takes time to recall. My job at US Airways is in the International Reservations Department. There is a lot of information most people take for granted that they know how to do. I've realized, since being back, how amazing my brain is. Reactivating those brain cells and muscles, I have not used for a few months, is slowly coming back without having to look at my notes.

I am struggling to keep my spirits up and stay positive. One way I do this is to continue to read an enjoyable book every day for 30 minutes...this gives me HOPE in my purpose in life. It is so easy to wonder "why" when that happens; I have to get on my knees and say, "thank you for this trial,  I am trying so hard to understand; please give me guidance and strength to know what to do, now that it is done there is not much I can do to change it, but now it is time for reality and for me to live with it, I accept that, but please help me along the way, give those nudges of the spirit when I am bombarded with doubt." 

I marvel at my ignorance; I once thought I had all I could deal with as a youth, and that my Heavenly Father had given me quite a challenge to overcome, and when I finally did and was able to truly forgive and move forward, I just knew that was it for me ... If I could overcome that, I would be left alone for life... no more trials. He really does give us what He knows we can handle, but He is also trying to teach me something through all this. I had a dream that allowed me to see and was explicitly told that I have a purpose here on earth; it's just so hard to grasp what I've been asked to do and not say, "why? Why me? I try to believe that I am of infinite worth and that I should be saying "why not" Maybe because I know all my faults and know the things I need to work on, I am not a particular person, no different than anyone else, the world is filled with people who are struggling. A part of me wants to negotiate my way out of this one.

Love came in a box

MONDAY, JUNE 23, 2014

Love came in a box

Update on the last couple of days.  It has become tough to be so far away from my family; I miss them and love them so much. I have tried FaceTime with them, and most of the time, it works, but on those days, it doesn't work my heart is a little heavy. I miss my Recker Love and Ezra's smiles and giggles. I'm so afraid they will not remember me when I get home.  With the changes in my face, they were already beginning to doubt my relation to them before I left.  Eric, Blake, and Chloe have been in the Dominican Republic for 10 days--I intended to go with them; this trip had been planned for quite some time; when my sudden surgeries took precedence, Eric immediately wanted to cancel the trip, and I begged him not to. I thought it would be a great bonding time for Blake and him. I was correct; they had a wonderful time and are all on a flight back to Arizona. While they were in the Dominican Republic, they had the opportunity to work with Dr. Kelly, a surgeon Chloe works with, his family is also dear to our family, and we adore them. Dr. Kelly is a surgeon and has been going to the Dominican Republic for 3 years to serve and give dental surgery to those in need, those who otherwise would not have the money to pay. I will never regret having them go, it has been brutal here in Cleveland without family, but I feel blessed to have modern technology where we can see and talk to each other through satellite. I felt the spirit telling me to have Eric go; it was so strong that I told him if he stayed home, I would not come to Cleveland Clinic or have any surgery....it meant that much to me for him to go. He has not missed out on one thing here, I have had to entirely rely on the Lord to help me make some significant decisions; it has been an excellent opportunity for me to get closer to my Savior than I ever thought I could, I have one spiritual experience upon another, and I know this is where I should be.  I am not sure what the outcome of this surgery will be, but in my heart, I know I should be here.

Kaitlyn always sends me pics of the boys
love love love

Haleigh with Ezra and Recker, thank you
for brightening my day

I got a knock at my hotel door this morning; it was a postman (weird on Sunday) who delivered a package from the people in my home ward.  When I opened it, a gust of love took my breath away. It was filled with cards, notes, gifts, and love from all the people I admire and love so much who live in our ward.  I was overwhelmed with the spirit as I read each one of the cards and notes repeatedly. I had no idea I was so loved.  I will never be able to thank each one of them, but I have FAITH & HOPE in knowing they know.

Thank you, thank you

Marian Priday--The source of putting together my box of love

 Eric and I moved into this ward when I was 30. Haleigh was in the nursery; all my children were baptized while in this ward. I was dealing with family matters that eventually ended sadly with my mom and dad cutting ties with me. Wally Slade was our Bishop, and since then, I relied so much on the women and men of this ward for an example. It was one of the most challenging times of my life, and I am so grateful to have moved where we did; I had to learn how to parent these little children of mine with lessons from Relief Society, I soon found the Lord leading my eyes and heart to watch and learn from the people around me. Most of those people are still in the ward, but our children grew older as new people moved in and out. Teaching teens to hold to the rod was harder than I thought, and again I listened with my heart and watched with my eyes, there are too many people to thank, and most do not even know the example they have been.

This morning I went to the Shaker Ward it was about 10 minutes from my hotel...everything was pushing against me to get there on time--I needed to check out of the hotel, and barely made it to Sacrament. I felt at home as I walked in, sat down, and was able to, with a very still soul, partake of the sacrament. There are two things I would change, the bread for the sacrament (thank you, Junel Durfee) and the music I kept thinking to myself, "we have such a powerful man behind every note played in our little 6th ward, and his name is 'Stephen Phelps' tears bubbled up and rolled down one cheek I miss my home ward.

I was glad I had on my mask and eye patch, two reasons 

• 1. No one could see my eye, and tears only fell from one eye.  
• 2. With the mask on, they could not see my crooked smile, a little girl walked by, and I smiled at her with my eyes, and she smiled back. I will never forget this little girl. She sang 'I'm trying to be like Jesus' with an angelic voice; I closed my eye and listened. It was beautiful. 
• Then the counselor conducting the meeting announced how the meeting would go from that point. It was something I had never seen before--and I loved it. He said they were going to have a Hymnology. It was a normal thing that they do a couple times a year, and today was the day; how blessed I felt to be there.

It is something like a testimony meeting. Only whoever feels the spirit goes to the podium and tells of their favorite Hymn and why the congregation sings the song. The list of Hymns was some of my favorites too. 

1.  Count your many blessings 

2. Praise to the Man 

3. Love at Home 

4. Where Can I turn for peace 

5. Master the Tempest is Raging  

6. I know my father lives 

7. Because I have been given much 

8. The Iron Rod  

9. I believe in Christ and 

10. Sisters in Zion. 

This ward is filled with multi-cultures, and it was refreshing to see and hear from members of all races.

Sister Franklin

Bore such a strong testimony today

Sister Franklin and her Nephews

 A little boy with Down Syndrome walked up to me and hugged me, then said, "Hi" he reminded me of CJ Udall-- tears filled my eyes, but then what he did next was even more touching, without knowing I had a BAHA implant in my head, he turned around then back and looked at me,  took my hand and placed it on his BAHA, he too has SSD (single-sided deafness) I have yet to meet anyone who has a BAHA. I have no idea his name, but I will never forget his piercing eyes as he stared into mine. At that moment, I could feel the Savior's love all around me.

When the meeting was over, I was filled once again with the strength to get through this week as I prepared for the next surgery.  Today has been a day for giving me inspiration to continue on, knowing whatever the Lord has planned for my future is His will. Although I may not understand why things happen the way they do, I can rely on Him to get me through ALL of my journeys here on earth until I return to Him again.

 

Be a Light to those who walk in the Dark.

 

SUNDAY, JUNE 15, 2014

Be a light to those who walk in the dark

Today is Sunday; I wanted to go to the Kirkland Temple or a nearby church. I wanted to take the Sacrament, but today neither one happened. I am watching the conference from my laptop tonight and listening to the Slade Family music and the Sound of Music soundtrack.   My eye is getting worse daily, and I fear losing it altogether. I've been keeping it hydrated and covered with a patch, but when I take it off for some relief--all I see is cloudy...don't be surprised if the spelling on this post is wrong.

This is a little city--white coats everywhere.

I've been praying for a surgery date--tomorrow, I hope something will be accomplished; I'm ready. I want to get home and be with my family--Sundays are the nights we all get together to have dinner and family home evening; oh, how I miss them. Since we've been empty nesters, it's been tough for me; I love my family around--if I had my way, I would have them all move back in with us. I haven't seen my grandchildren in 2 weeks--I haven't seen my children in 2 weeks--Eric and I Skype, so I get to see him, Blake, and Chloe every day... I WANT YOU ALL TO UNDERSTAND THIS:  Eric and I had been planning a trip to Blake's mission in the Dominican Republic; when I was in the hospital, Eric wanted to cancel; when we decided for me to come to Cleveland, I told him he has to go on the trip with Blake no matter what, just cancel my flights. Of course, he was not going to do that. Eric wanted to be with me, but I had a powerful feeling he needed to go and spend some time with his son; Blake will always have those memories to look back on when we are gone. Still, he insisted on being here. I told him if he came here, I would cancel the surgery and go home, which made him think. He knows when I'm serious, so he and Blake left a couple days ago; I've been talking to them every day, thanks to modern technology. Chloe will be working with Dr. Kelly in the Dominican Republic, so this is good dad/son bonding time. I told Blake this morning to have a great time and not worry about me; all Eric and he would be doing is sitting around (just like me) waiting for the scheduler to call. Besides, the time I've had alone has allowed me to reflect, process, and get back on track with the spirit. I have had some life-changing spiritual experiences while fasting and praying for answers.

The two primary sources of most importance are my eye and to see if the bone is infected. I'm not sure about the look, but I feel strongly that my bone is good, with no infection. I do not leave the hotel without a patch on my eye; the wind blows a lot here, and it is excruciating on my eye. It gets really red. I have no peripheral vision out of the right eye. Not a good combination, deaf in the right ear, and can't see out of the right eye--boy, I'm a mess--
  
I thought today, the body is so perfectly created by our Heavenly Father. When something is not working correctly, we take note of it. I never realized how important it is
to be able to blink your eye--or how much people stare when they see someone who is not looking like the typical person should look.  
A little boy was with his dad and said, "Daddy, what's wrong with that lady's eye?" The dad quickly scooped him up, trying to distract the little boy with a flavor of ice cream; he asked his dad again. I looked at the little boy and said, "I have a boo-boo, and I'm just trying to cover it so it won't get worse."
I could see it bothered the boy's father to have me explain it. The little boy said a few minutes later to his dad, "what is wrong with her eye, dad?" No answer. I was trying my hardest not to laugh; I love little children and their ability to say it like they see it, but the father acting like I was an alien was a little bothersome. I waved goodbye to the little boy, and off I went. Seeing out of only one eye when I have the patch on is strange; every step I take is difficult because my brain tells me the curb is closer than it is; I look about as gracious as a bull in a china shop. I have run into walls, stepped on my own feet, dropped or grabbed for things that look closer or further than they really are.

The body is a fantastic creation; when it is not working as intended, all of what you learned must be retrained. My mouth does not work like it used to either (I know most people are happy about that one.) I can only eat tiny bites of things, they need to be cut up, and I can only eat on the left side. Sometimes, it is such a chore. My speech is OK, but hard sometimes to say my "P's and B's"  I have to hold my cheek out while I talk so people can understand. While I Skyped with Eric and Blake this morning, he couldn't understand what I was saying, so I held my cheek out. We laughed about that one. One thing I've learned in the past 5 years is that I am not in charge; Heavenly Father is testing my knowledge of HOPE,  in my ability to listen to the spirit and step forward with FAITH.

I'm still staring at the mirror  15 minutes a day and telling my eyebrow to move, my mouth to smile, and my eye to blink.....guess what? It's working today. I caught my eyelid flashing a couple of times while concentrating on it. When Eric and I first got married, he used to make me stand in front of the mirror and tell myself. "you are beautiful, you will succeed, and you are going to have a great day"  I felt weird doing that, but it worked--I've never met a more positive-thinking person than him.
My face will work again; I know it will--just need to practice a Christlike attribute--patience.

I always despise the beginning of anything, but I'm starting to embrace these changes. I've been told I will never look the same again, well, maybe physically, I won't, but all these changes keep me alive and open to new challenges. So now it's time for one more change: I will survive, and I will go forward no matter what the doctors can or cannot do. I live in a world full of people who feel forgotten; they are not alone; I want to find a way to help them find their happy places, despite whatever trials they face. I have given my heart and soul to HIM and the doctors; I want to be a person who gives more than she takes--listens with my heart--smiles with my eyes--and give back every day I breathe to help someone in need. I did a smile project while I was going through my chemo treatments--

http://monyabonbon.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-smile-experiment.html

I have a new project; I'm in the process now and will tell you about it when I get my results. My focus now is embracing the new Monya--still the same heart and personality; I'm trying to get refined around the edges. I have no doubt that my Heavenly Father knows the strength I have in me; I know when I kneel down for help, he WILL answer back. However, I also know from experience it is not always the answer I want. I've tried all my life to be a humble servant. I've felt healing power in my life and in the lives of others. I have a grateful heart; right now, I feel calm and quiet, and the stillness of what I'm feeling draws me near to HIM. It makes me want to be a better daughter of God by serving others and giving back what I'm learning. Even though I'm far away from home, I know there is someone I can always turn to, and He is just one prayer away. I realize this road ahead of me is long and hard but not devastating--I am concentrating on Happiness in my life--giving and sharing what I know can help others. I am still in this school of learning that we all call LIFE. When I look back at where I've been, I never saw these challenges in my future. I imagined it much worse--I have truly been blessed with a beautiful life, an eternal companion I call Frenchie, 4 exceptional children, and 2 of the best grandchildren who can light up my life with just a smile, I have FAITH in my future, I want to look back on all of this and see that I did what was right when no one was around watching--keeping my eyes on Eternity,  I want to be a light to those who are in the dark, I want to bring them into the light and see what I see--I am the only one who can decide how I live, and I choose to LIVE HAPPY.

Promises not broken

 

SUNDAY, JUNE 8, 2014

Promises not broken

I know without any doubt one day, I will be strong enough to believe in this promise. Right now, I am feeling vulnerable. I am so afraid I have spent a week in Cleveland trying to find a doctor who will take on my case, one which I was told by two doctors they have never seen during their time as practicing doctors. I am fine-tuned, and my sharp edges are being sanded down. Heaven has shown me so many miracles....and one thing I know for sure is the Lord will not take our pain away; I also believe he could take it away, but when he does that, we are deprived of blessings we would have never had the opportunity to endure, come closer to the spirit and strengthen our testimony of FAITH and HOPE in Christ.  

One day a few weeks ago, I let Recker and Ezra play in my car while I was cleaning it out; they love to just play in the car because when he drives, they have to be in their car seats, so when bonbon lets them play they are all happy and smiles. The next day I was going, and I noticed both Recker and Ezra's feet and hand prints on the windows; I pulled my car over to the side of the road and stared at those prints with the biggest smile on my face--thinking, "I want to absorb this moment, those little hand prints are my cute little grandkids...." why did they not look as cute when they were my own children's? Or maybe they were, but I just forgot. I later noticed in my house on one of the mirrors Recker's hand prints all over it; I did not take the Windex out--instead, I cleaned around it; this little boy has blessed my life more than anyone ever has--I love Ezra too, and I love him just as much, but the connection I have with Ezra is different than the one I have with Recker. Last week when I was home, I had the PICC line in my arm and a wrap around my ear, like a bandaid. Recker always comes and hugs me, but this time he gave me a hug, and then I had to inspect my PICC line. I tried to explain that it was a boo boo, and bonbon needed some medicine. Then he hugged me again and looked at the bandaid on my ear. He first looked at it, then looked me straight in the eye, as if to say, "it will only hurt for a minute," and that fast he had ripped it off my ear and ran as fast he could---NO, it didn't hurt, he just hates bandaids and obviously if he doesn't like them he assumed bonbon wouldn't either. This little Recker boy is 4 and a half, he is still non-verbal, but he and I can communicate with our eyes and hearts. He has a special bond with our Heavenly Father, and I treat him as though he is a typical child because we do not want him to think we think he is less worthy or less loved than anyone else in this family. 

He's my little angel.

I know that one day we will understand why some children are born with this particular veil surrounding them and protect them from the world's temptations. When I look at this picture above, it always makes me think of Recker; I believe his footprints will also be next to mine, his perfect little prints walking next to me and helping me get where I need to be.

Tomorrow is a big day for me; I am praying the doctor has already cleared his schedule for one day and can get me in asap; if not, then I will be carried once again on an airplane to my next doctor on the list hoping for an answer. I have an excellent feeling about the Cleveland Clinic, and I know they have already told me my situation is an emergency case. I realized a long time ago my life would never be the same; it would never be 6 days of exercise for 2-3 hours a day, riding a bike 150 miles a week, lifting weights twice a week, and doing kickboxing 3 times a week...I never thought I could give those things up because they had become such a big part of my life; now I realize my Heavenly Father has a specific plan for me, I'm still not sure what it is, but I want to be the instrument He expects me to be. The way I will accomplish whatever it is, I need to get my body healthy again, and I will. I always seem to forge forward, and I can do it with the FAITH, HOPE, AND PRAYERS of all my friends and family. Without them, I would not be able to accomplish any of my goals; I don't ever want to let people down or be less than I know I can be; that's just who I am. Because my life has been spared so many times, it tells me I have more to learn. I truly believe everything happens for a reason; Heavenly Father is not just going to throw us out to the lions and not have a plan for us--still, there are times when I  feel like there is nothing I can do but rely on Him, friends and family to pray for me. I agreed to come to earth and take a body, and that earth life would be a difficult task at times; I believe when Heavenly Father sees our pain, it must hurt him because He can take it all away; however, if he does that we will not grow and learn and share with others. My prayer tonight is to help me sleep, even if I cry. I will wake up in the morning preparing for a good plan from my doctors. Tomorrow will be a good day, one day closer to feeling the sunshine on my face again.

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