The Present Moment Continued

Today being Fast Sunday in our stake because of Stake Conference last Sunday, therefore testimony meeting, I want to express my rambling feelings. First on all that my son, Eddy Hugh, recites a reverential sacrament prayer. It warms my soul every month.

Was that before or after the fire alarm went off? I didn’t hear it but as many Priesthood bearers got up and went out, even two from the stand, but not the bishopric or stake president counselor who was presiding because the bishop is in Hawaii, I whispered to DeRay: “What is going on?” “The building is probably on fire.” “I’m getting out of here.” But I didn’t. I sat with all the other women and children to burn to death rather than abandon testimony meeting.

“False alarm. No fire,” Brother Dent said after the sacrament. “I texted the Bishop yesterday after the scare than an incoming ballistic missile was heading for Hawaii and 'THIS IS NOT A DRILL'. He called the Pentagon and they said they had no word so he felt safe. My question is, are we ready?” Or words to that effect, reduced to the lowest common denominator.

I had already been thinking about life and death. I’m still going to back up here to set the stage. To celebrate their 50^Th Wedding Anniversary, a couple in our ward went with their son and his family on a vacation to Hawaii over the Christmas holidays. While catching a wave, their son, Aric, suffered a major spinal injury. Surgery. Priesthood blessings. He’s in Colorado now for  specialized spinal injury rehabilitation. Both parents are sure he will walk again. I sincerely hope so. But what about those who don’t? If God answers their prayers, does he love them more than the ones who spend the rest of their lives in a wheelchair?

It’s been a trying four months for me. Breast cancer diagnosis, surgery, decisions; drugs that help one thing and hurt something else, so you have to have a procedure to help the thing they hurt, then you have to do it again. New doctors; new techniques. Old wounds.  It’s never ending. This week, I had two procedures.  “You may have a sore throat” “You’re bones may ache, just take Tylenol.” 

I admit I rather like the way I’m treated when I go in for these procedures. Everyone is so nice and tender and gentle. You know what these young whippersnappers are thinking: “Poor old dear. Cancer and old age both.”

To my astonishment, this weekend I feel strong for the first time in months. Really good. Like I want to run and skip and jump and twirl. (Of course, I can’t but I want to.) What did they put in that IV on Friday?

And then I thought, but it won’t last.

Something else will come up.

Everyone has to die.

I want to die healthy, I decide.

I know, most people get sick and die. Some don’t. We had a neighbor who was working in his garden when he keeled over dead. He was always helping someone and doing kind things. His wife, after his death, was just as exemplary. She didn’t wallow in self-pity even though his death was sudden and tragic. After a few years, she sold the house and moved into a condo by good friends. She still sends words of encouragement and love to others in the old neighborhood.

For the moments I feel good, I cherish. This moment I feel fine.

“Most humans are never fully present in the now, because unconsciously they believe that the next moment must be more important than this one. But then you miss your whole life, which is never not now.” - Eckhart Tolle