I've been experiencing a series of moments. Moments of pure joy as I watch Sam bound up the stairs to my office after school, proclaiming that he has decided what he is going to do with his life...raise Bullfrogs! He learned in Aquascience class of a man who works 2 hours a day raising frogs and makes $100,000 a year.
That moment when I leave for work as he is coming home from being with friends at the park and he can't wait to tell me all about the new trick he learned slack-lining.
That moment when I see a picture that Shelbie has taken and it is the most stunning work of art.
That moment when I see her laugh without reserve, without a guarded thought...just an outburst of pure happiness and, when she calls her grandpa on her own to tell him she loves him and will be praying for him as he begins his battle with cancer.
That moment when my Elder writes home with excitement for the gospel that I have never seen before in my son and I know, without question, that the Gospel is part of him, all through him, inside and out. It amazes me!
That moment when my Elder says the exact words that I really needed to hear that week. He may be hundreds of miles from me, but as my friend said once, he is the same distance from God, the God who inspires him to bless my life even still.
It's in those moments that I can't believe that these young adults are my children! They have done so much good in their lives. They have been able to rise above their challenges, righted some wrongs and become the most incredible human spirits.
Then there are moments when I realize that all I will have left are these moments. Moments like this are sad. Really sad...and I'm not sure how people who have children with terminal illness live every day. I don't know how they go on. I don't know how you live in the moment and not let your mind imagine life without the three people who have made your life worthwhile.
That is something I have yet to figure out. Maybe I'll never get it figured out...maybe you just keep living those questions and somehow, the answers work their way into each day of wondering.
Tonight, Shelbie and I went to a talent show. Let's just say, it wasn't that entertaining but for $3, it was something to do. There was however, one guy all dressed in dreadlocks and saggy pants who danced. He was amazing and made it into the finals. His final dance was to the song Immortal by Evanesence. It was the most emotional performance.
The words to the chorus are these:
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
From my teary eyes, I could see that Shelbie was crying too. At some point, in the not so distant future, we will need to confront our unspoken fears and worry about what the future is going to hold for us. For now, we cry quietly, hoping we don't see each other's wounded heart. This moment is yet to come. Until then, and even after then, we will just have to muddle through, moment after moment, whatever that moment is going to bring.