Cancer, Coping, and the Every-Day Maces

I had a brush with meaninglessness this weekend… like “If I couldn’t save Hyrum, can I do anything worthwhile?” And “If things of such value (like a child’s life) are subject to the whims of mortality, is agency and human effort even a real force at all?” I cried at night. I sat outside at sunrise, praying and hurting and more. I asked Michael for a blessing,  and I went to the temple. I baked cookies and followed through with my plans with friends. Eventually, the cloud of meaninglessness subsided.  In the temple, that blessedly solid, granite building that felt eternal enough to quell existential doubts, I had  the same prompting that I felt there right after Hyrum’s death. “Just keep going. You have more to do and more to be. You are not done yet.” It’s encouraging, but also… I’m tired? Lol And often unsure how to use my broken pieces to do good. I think the message from God is half “Your brokenness is needed. Please go share.” and partly “It doesn’t matter what you achieve- just

Will it get old if I start every blog post by telling you how grateful I am for you? It is deeply humbling to watch the way our sweet friends and family have continued to minister to us. This weekend, my sister visited the city where Hyrum attended his clinical trial in California. She sent me a picture with two of my sweet CA friends, and I honestly cried just looking at their faces... Because it reminded me how many of you have stepped up to be direct conduits of God's love for me. People I didn't even know. People who are carrying their own heavy burdens. People like you.  We are home again in Oklahoma. It's 9 weeks since Hyrum died. And we are... all the things. We are busy. We are joyful. We are hurting. Against all odds, we are functioning!! I've been cooking and cleaning and playing. The kids are sleeping in their own beds again. We're back to regular church assignments, and it's lovely to have space (mental, physical, & emotional) to serve and help a