God's Impeccable Timing at the Post Office

I am somewhat ashamed to admit that because I feel so pressed for time when my son is in school, that when I go to the post office I keep my head down and try to get in and out as quickly as possible. I'm hyper-aware of EVERYONE's needs and I'm afraid I will get sucked in and not be able to take care of the people I'm already taking care of. I'm even more ashamed to admit that when I am at the automated postal machines and there is an older person at the machine next to me, obviously having trouble figuring it out, I hope they won't ask me for help. Today I was at a machine and I heard the older person next to me heaving a big sigh. "Oh no," I thought. Then she turned to me and asked, "Would you help me? I have rheumatoid arthritis and I can't straighten my fingers. Would you insert my credit card into the reader for me? I did it and then I watched her use her knuckles to deftly make her remaining selections on the touch screen. I got up my courage and asked her if she would like to try something for her RA. I pulled out a sample packet and gave her my card and an info booklet. We got chatting and I found out that she has a grandson with autism, and then I was able to tell her about my successes with my son. I mean, really, what are the odds?! In spite of my weaknesses and what I do or don't do, God is AMAZING at getting me where I need to be, with split-second accuracy.

Isaiah and Me

Like many people, the Isaiah chapters in the Book of Mormon are not the easiest for me to grasp so I'm grateful that I was given the assignment in my scripture class to study the chapters and report for 2-3 minutes on what I felt was God's message to me during this particular round of reading. As we know, each time you read the scriptures you get another layer of messages from God. My little talk:

What I loved the most was the verses with nature imagery because they remind me of how God shows His love for me through His creations. For example, here are three verses in no particular order that touched me:

Sing, O heavens, and be joyful, O earth; for the feet of those who are in the east shall be established; and break forth into singing, O mountains; for they shall be smitten no more; for the Lor hath comforted his people.

And they thirsted not; he led them through the deserts; he caused the waters to flow out of the rock for them; he clave the rock also and the waters gushed out.

They shall not hunger nor thirst, neither shall the heat nor the sun smite them; for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them; even by the springs of water shall he guide them.

Then I thought about how much I'd been pondering on this quote that a friend had posted on facebook a few days ago:

"There is a big circle that represents God... [and a]... little circle that represents you and me is inside the big circle. The goal... is to realize that you have been all along, contrary to all of your illusions, a dimension of the divine, and in moments of heightened spiritual awareness, the boundary line, which is the little circle defining you inside the big circle, momentarily is erased. Momentarily is blurred and it's no longer clear where you end and God begins." - Rabbi Laurence Kushner

The breezes, the stars, and the leaves on the trees remind me that I am bathed in that big circle full of atoms and molecules of God's love.

Paused for five seconds!

3:45am, after going strong since 2:00am, he paused for five whole seconds! Progress!

Why Am I Up at 3:30am?

Because my son decided to start exercising his voice, at the top of his lungs, at 2:00am and is showing no signs of letting up. This is just what he was doing on Sunday. At least he has a deep voice, not like the kid who rides the bus with him who screams exactly like a pterodactyl. Over and over.

I'm going to be like Nephi, as we learned in scripture study class today, and be grateful:

--We have electricity and food.

--My husband gets home in 2.5 days.

--I found a new, fun crochet scarf pattern that I started while my son was ASLEEP. LAST NIGHT. Remember that??

--I got an hour of sleep before he woke up.

--The school bus comes in only five hours. 

--He can't keep this up for five more hours, can he?

--When he gets on the bus I can go back to sleep.

--In eternity this night will be a distant memory.

--I got to watch this wonderful talk that my daughter pointed me to:

http://www.byutv.org/watch/ee63f694-d8af-4a42-b9fa-3411041190c7/byu-devotional-address-sterling-hilton---101315

Make.It.Stop.

Please.

Note to Self: This is a Marathon, Not a Sprint

My son started a new neuro program recently that I am very excited about. It has been a long time since I have been open to introducing a new "program" but it's a sign that he is doing so well physically and emotionally that his body is ready to be taught. And it's a sign that I am now ready to handle something more. This weekend I overdid it so I wrote this to process and as a reminder to pace myself.

My son was holding the vibrating massager in his mouth for a while as I was getting ready for church. After I took it out and led him to the car, he started very LOUD vocalizing, not upset, just loud and persistent. This is not a new behavior but it doesn't happen super often any more, and most Sundays my husband is able to sit with him in the chapel while I lead the music. He rarely needs to take him out to the foyer anymore. When my son has gotten into this vocalizing groove before, nothing I've tried has gotten him out of it. When we got to church I took my son directly to the foyer for Sacrament Meeting because he was so loud and couldn't stop. I tried putting the massager near his mouth, or feeding him, and he was just as loud even as he was chewing his food. I had already been alone with him for the entire previous day since my husband had left early in the morning to fly to Asia (usually he takes my son out for several hours on Saturday afternoons, and takes care of him during Sacrament Meeting), and I really wanted to hear the meeting. He was so loud that I knew he could be heard in the chapel and I could barely hear the audio that was piped into the foyer. Two of my friends took pity on me and insisted on sitting with my son while I sat in the chapel and enjoyed the meeting. Then one of them took him for the second hour and her husband took him for the third hour, spending part of it driving him around in their car. Angels.

(Developmental Note: The sounds that he was making were varied and one friend says she heard a phrase (I can't remember what) and the other says she heard him say, "Banana.")

The weather has been extremely hot and I had to work not to berate myself for only doing one neuro session with my son on Saturday, and for not taking him out for a drive like he usually gets when my husband is home.

Church was awesome and my son's behavior was perfect today, so things could have been worse, and they have been MUCH worse. I have experienced many, many very difficult Sundays over the past 4-5 years dealing with his extreme tantrums and self-injury. Today he was just being happy and expressive, but my tears flowed easily and often just from the sheer burden of feeling that this was all on my shoulders, then from gratitude for the sacrament passed to me by a smiling twelve-year old, and the help, kindness, and true words that came from my dear friends and teachers.

He was calm and quiet when I got him back after church, and we enjoyed a long drive in the air-conditioned car, and then I got the idea to do one of his neuro eye exercises by driving slow left-turn circles (in the air-conditioned car!) in our cul-de-sac! This worked well and when I glanced back at my son it looked like his eyes were doing the right thing. I wanted to do ten but could only do eight before I became dizzy. Still, it counts!

I realized today that I need to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Whenever I start a new thing with my son, I am very gung-ho and do my best to do everything I'm supposed to do, not to mention the detailed reporting that I like to do. I need to realize that because I'm using my afternoon helpers to help with the program, and I'm personally actively participating, I'm cutting into time that used to be 100% respite for me. Even though his self-injury is almost completely gone, he is BIG, I cook all his food from scratch, and I still have a lot of diapers to change and laundry to wash. I need to pace myself and give myself a break. I really appreciate that the neuro doc I'm working with is not pushing too hard like I was pushed in the last program I did, which was helpful but also traumatic for me. I'm  also grateful that this doc does housecalls and direct treatment, and that I have wonderful helpers to do some of the exercises.

I realized today that even though I thought I was handling everything well, that when my friends offered to help today and I burst into tears, I really needed the respite. This allowed me to replenish myself and others to have the blessing of spending time with my son.

Emotional First Aid: "Let's BOP!"

I created this graphic as a quick way to remind a friend who struggles with ups and downs to remember how to get herself back on track. Often when we are stressed out we are too distracted to do the things that will help us feel better. As often seems to happen with me, I had the opportunity to take my own advice:

I was getting ready to go away by myself for a few days, something I had been looking forward to but which also required a lot of preparation of food and meds for my son. Even though I had done quite a bit more ahead of time than I usually do, the week of the trip I found myself going through my typical pre-trip panic. I used oils, which are super supportive emotionally, but had not done the other two steps. I was in my son's room with him and remembered to pray and read the Book of Mormon, which was convenient as there was a copy right next to me on his bookshelf. I said a quick prayer and grabbed the book which fell open to Mosiah 24. I started reading and was not overwhelmed by the content but I kept on reading. Then I turned the page and verse 14 jumped out at me:

"And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions."

Um, that is MY scripture. That was one that helped me through the years of trying to find answers to the self-injury. And it was a personal message to me that God knows me and knows what I'm going through. I love this book and the comfort and truth it contains!

You Get to Keep the Joy

I've been struggling with things in my life feeling unsettled or not happening when I want them to. There are several people I know from church or elsewhere who are dealing with mysterious health challenges like I have gone through with my son. I shared some of these thoughts in testimony meeting last week and had been meaning to type them in my journal:

"And let us not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." Galatians 6:9

"Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceeded that which is great." D&C 64:33

We have no idea how long it took Noah to build the ark or any of the other miraculously epic accomplishments that we read about in the scriptures, not to mention the women who had miracle children in their old age after years of infertility. A journey of a thousand miles is made up of single steps combined with a vision of what God wants for you. This is God's pattern in everything, including the development of a fetus, then a child, growth of a tree, construction of a building, family, or organization. You can't rush things and you can't skip steps. When someone appears to have an overnight conversion or a miraculous healing, there are many small steps that have laid the foundation for it, helped the person build their faith, or prepared the person to receive it. There are many among us who are struggling with seemingly intractable health or other challenges. Five years ago I embarked on a desperate search to get my son to stop trying to constantly hit himself. After one year of medical consultations, meds that didn't work, karate helmets and boxing gloves, a lot of blood and bruises when he wiggled out of his protective gear, and several nearly broken noses for me, I finally found someone who knew how to help him. My son has been improving gradually for the past four years, and for the past year he has only tried to hit himself once a week instead of every twenty minutes, and he calms down almost instantly. I testify that the atonement of Jesus Christ is real and washes away all pain and sorrow, but you get to keep the lessons and the joy!

A Special Kind of Missionary Mom

Last Sunday I was waiting for Sacrament Meeting to start and looking at the son of a dear friend who had just returned from an honorable two-year mission and would be giving his homecoming talk in our meeting. I felt emotional and grateful that he was home safely and had served such a wonderful mission. He had had severe health challenges in his teens and it was such a poignant moment to see him there, healthy and strong, with the adoring eyes of his parents on him.

Then I thought back to my own missionary's homecoming talk and what a unique and sacred opportunity it was for me to be a missionary mom. I thought how I could easily *not* have been a missionary mom if my child had made a different choice, and it is something that you can't really understand until you experience it. I felt sorry for women who don't get to be missionary moms.

Then I felt the Spirit whisper to me, "Someday you will feel sorry for women who don't get to be special needs moms."

My Son's Hands

My son is the only student on a big yellow bus that takes him to his autism school thirty minutes away. There is a driver and an aide and these teams change from time to time. My favorite team is two of the SWEETEST ladies I like to call "The Mexican Grandmas". I can hear them happily chattering to each other in Spanish as I walk with my son to the door of the bus. The bus is immaculate inside, and there is always a smiley-face fleece blanket hanging neatly on the bar behind the driver's seat. When it rains, the driver always leaves a towel on the bottom step to wipe your feet on. Both ladies squeal with delight when Sam steps onto the bus, and they talk to him as if he was their own precious baby.

This morning the driver reached out and held Sam's hand to help him climb up the bus stairs. She look sincerely into my eyes and said, "I LOVE it when he holds my hand. I feel something very special from him." I said, "Yes, he has a very special spirit, doesn't he?" She said, "Yes! That's it. Very special."

"A Voice from the Dust"

A lot of change seems to be happening in my life, including my trying to accept that my three older kids are spending most of their time away from home and even the United States. One grown child who lives a few hours drive from here talks about moving to Portland or NYC, one is in Jerusalem, and one is in Mexico. Meanwhile, my youngest has grown taller than both his parents and all but one of his siblings; even though he's progressing I feel more and more concerned (and guilty) that he is still in diapers and nonverbal and wondering how we are ever going to keep taking care of him as we age and he just grows stronger.

One way I've been coping with missing my older kids is by adopting a young mom whose own mom passed away about six months ago, helping her decorate her house, and decorating my patio and having their little family over for dinner. My friend's little girls notice everything cute I make so it's very rewarding. I call them my "practice grandchildren." (And Heavenly Father knows that decorating is key to my joy!) Another thing I've been doing is massively decluttering my house (preparing for the second half of my life) and this afternoon I was dusting off (literally!!) an old journal and found a letter from a friend who had written about being guided and protected by God even through times of great change. Reading her reassuring words was almost like uncovering a lost page in my patriarchal blessing and was so comforting to me today!

"And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha." 2 Kings 6:16-17

A GPS Moment

A friend was telling me yesterday that God can ALWAYS take any difficult situation and turn it into good. She likened it to a GPS system that when you make a wrong turn, recalculates and gives you new directions to still get you to your destination. I loved that analogy.

This morning I had scheduled a dentist appointment for my son that would require us to leave the house at the same time the bus would normally come to pick him up for school, so I figured I could handle this and then drive him straight to school, which takes about thirty minutes and is two towns away. Mornings have improved so much over the past couple of years that, although I was stressed about getting him ready on time and not making a scene in the dentist's office, I figured it was all going to be fine.

Unfortunately he started the day irritable and on edge but I was able to get him fed and dressed and out to the driveway on time.

But the school bus was there at the end of the driveway, waiting for him! His driver and aide are two sweet ladies in their 60's with lovely Spanish accents who absolutely dote on my son. Even though I had told them on Friday that he wouldn't be riding this morning, and I had left a message with the dispatcher, they did not get the information. As I told them that my son would not be riding this morning, he started flipping his head and hitting himself in the face. Since I knew that I was never going to get him calm enough for his dentist appointment, and he always calms down quickly on the bus, I said, "On second thought, yeah, why don't you take him!" But I didn't have his seatbelt harness on and he was flailing so intensely that I just had to get him safely into the house so he could calm down. The ladies were very concerned--seeing my 5'8" son hit and yell like this is unsettling to anyone to witness--and they so kindly offered to help and brought my purse into the house for me.

I was able to brace my son's arms to protect his face without getting my face hit in the process (which is pretty impressive since he is now as tall as I am) while I walked him back into the house, and he calmed down quickly in his room while I sat at the kitchen table formulating Plan B. I phoned the dentist and cancelled the appointment and then scheduled his appointments for the next six months, all for much later in the day. Then I remembered that his backpack was all ready for school and in my car so I got him out of his room and he was really happy to ride in the car.

Whenever I have to drive the hour round trip to school instead of having that hour to myself, I'm pretty resentful. But as soon as I drove out of my neighborhood and into the undeveloped hilly areas leading up to the highway, I realized again that my son had gotten me where I needed to be. I turned on my "Praise Baby" Christian CD and started singing along. I saw the explosion of yellow wildflowers that had burst onto the scene since I had last driven on the highway. In their vibrant colors I heard each one of them singing praises to our Creator.

When I arrived at my son's school, which specializes in severely autistic kids from ten to twenty years old, right next to me in the parking lot was a 250-pound full-grown kid in the back of his dad's mini-van, lying across the third seat, refusing to get out. A female school aide was standing by and the dad was trying to figure out what to do without provoking the young man. Being deeply aware of how one wrong move can trigger a really difficult situation, I prayed for them.

My son happily got out of the car and ambled to his classroom. On the way home I decided to drive along the Pacific Coast, drink in the sight of the ocean, and count how many different colors of wildflowers I could see. Because of this "rough morning" I got to see wildflowers in several shades of yellow, orange, hot pink, white, and purple. I saw waves crashing on the Pacific coastline, smelled salty mist, felt warm air on my skin, thought about my church lessons from yesterday and what a blessing it is to have a body.

Because of Jesus Christ's atonement, He was able to heal my morning and make it a sacred communion between me and Him.

Happy Easter! He lives!

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdZViD4rxDE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-zJHgaoVa4

Indescribable

From the highest of heights to the depths of the sea
Creations revealing Your majesty
From the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring
Every creature unique in the song that it sings
All exclaiming

Chorus:
Indescribable, uncontainable, You place the stars in the sky and You know
Them by name, You are amazing God
All powerful, untamable, awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly
Proclaim, You are amazing God

Who sees lightning bolts and tells them where they should go or
Sees heavenly store houses laden in snow
Who imagined the sun and gave source to it's light
Yet conceals it to bring us the coolness of night
None can fathom

(Repeat Chorus)

Chorus 2:
Incomparable, unchangeable, You've seen the depths of my heart and You love
Me the same, You are amazing God
You are amazing God

More Significant Dates

In examining my calendars and journals I have found more significant events that happened on the same dates:

Feb. 27, 1995, twenty years ago, is the day that I started bleeding and was put on bed rest.

Feb. 27, 2002, seven years later, my youngest son, who we adopted a little over a year later, was born.

March 8, 1995, twenty years ago, was when I was hospitalized for the high risk pregnancy.

March 8, 2003, eight years later, my children met their soon-to-be brother and his birth family for the first time and the sight of the three of them adoring him confirmed for his birth parents that we were the right family for him. This was also the scene of the bravest thing I have ever said. Birthmom proposed that we gradually transition the baby into our home with regular visits over a period of months. I said, "No, I can't do that. If I am going to be his mother, I want that to start as soon as possible."

I Didn't Want To Go To Jazzercise

Not wanting to go to Jazzercise is no big news. I never want to go to Jazzercise. I don't like to exercise and I don't like to leave my house, especially in the morning, especially when my son is at school and my husband is at work. It is ninety minutes out of my morning when you count driving time, and by the time I get home it's 11:00 and practically noon and the day is half over! That morning time alone in my house is so precious to me.

But I'm always glad I went. Once I get there and get my spot and my earplugs are in (that's a must!) I do enjoy moving to music, seeing old and new friends there, and knowing that I'm doing something really good for my body. I feel like exercise is "church" for my body, and I even get some nice inspirations while I'm jumping around. I've gotten organized enough to have my exercise clothes ready the night before and it's gotten to be enough of a habit that it's not such an emotional effort to make myself go.

But this morning..... Oh, it was such a beautiful, warm, sunny morning and the birds were chirping and I had lots of projects that I really wanted to work on, and not leave my house. I knew that it would take only the tiniest thing to divert me from going. But I made myself fill up my water bottle and get in the car. It was a tremendous effort. As I started driving I prayed that I would want to go more. I turned on my soothing Christian music CD that my dear friend, Tiffany, had given me, and I started to cry a little about how much I did not want to leave my house and how it was not an unrighteous desire to want to stay in my house and maybe I was *supposed* to stay home?.....

About halfway to the Jazzercise studio, as I was driving past Home Depot, I suddenly noticed a familiar figure walking heavily along the sidewalk, carrying a backpack and a guitar in a padded case. I thought, "That looks just like A. from church. He must be walking to school. He lives on the other side of town. He is so late for school and he is still a long way away. Maybe I should stop and offer him a ride?"

I pondered the practicality of this but something told me it was the right thing to do. I was not in the right lane but at a stop light I made a quick decision. I waited for the other cars in the right lane to pass, then I changed lanes, turned the corner, pulled over to the side of the road with my blinkers on, and waited. It seemed to take a long time for A. to catch up to me (I had pulled over as soon as I could, considering the heavy traffic) and I wondered if it really was A., and if it wasn't, what was this person going to think of me, and would I still offer him a ride if it wasn't the kid I thought I knew??

He eventually turned the corner, caught up to me, and I called to him through the window. I've only talked to him a couple of times but he recognized me when I told him I was from church. He was so happy that I stopped! He said, "You saved me!" I asked him if he normally got a ride to seminary from a ward member, and he said yes, but today was a late-start day and he had missed two different city buses.

There are two high schools that serve our town and one is near the coast where there is a wide variety of income levels, and the other is more inland and in a pretty affluent area. A. did not make the lottery to get into the high-demand limited-space coastal school, so he has to go to the suburban school. This can be a real problem when it's so far away, you are the oldest of four kids of a single mom and one of the kids has serious medical issues.

I told him that I sympathized with what a long walk he had, and that I used to miss the bus all the time when I was growing up in New England and would often end up trying to ride my bike to school in the snow. He was so fascinated! "You grew up on the East Coast? Wow, that must have been a lot harder that what I have to do." He's such a smart kid and so interested in things and other people. I told him that I was on my way to Jazzercise when I spotted him. He asked me, "What's Jazzercise?" and I told him and told him I go with our Bishop's wife and it's so awesome because she's healthy now and can go. He said how much he loves their family and he said, "Our Bishop is Superman! He's always helping people!"

I asked him about the guitar and his face lit up! He told me that he plays four instruments! By then we were in front of the school, and although he was a little late, he insisted on showing me videos of him playing the guitar and drums. He's really good! I told him that all three of my older children are musicians and two are in bands. I told him that we need to have a ward talent show and he needs to be in it. I could completely relate to him because I spent years hearing the sound of drums and guitars coming from my older son's room. He loved telling me about his music and having me appreciate it!

I said, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but do you have lunch or money for lunch?" He said, "No, but my seminary teacher makes me a bag lunch every day!" I pressed, "But you didn't have seminary today, right?" He affirmed that and graciously accepted lunch money. But I think he was more grateful for the attention.

I have two genius friends, young moms who have created successful lives in spite of very difficult childhoods. I can see my young friend in twenty years or even five or ten years thriving under the nurturing that our church family is giving him. I am so grateful to the gospel for allowing me to know a person like him who otherwise I might never have crossed paths with in a meaningful way. This young man needed mothering today and I needed someone to mother. With tears in my eyes, I drove back towards the main road, in awe at the workings of the Spirit that would send me to this boy's aid. I could still have gone to part of Jazzercise, but it doesn't take much to talk me out of it. I came home and wrote this instead. ;)

Twenty Years of Blessings

My baby girl will turn twenty this month and as I contemplated what to get her for her birthday, I suddenly recalled with a rush of emotion that twenty years ago this week I was put on bedrest at thirty weeks of pregnancy due to heavy bleeding from placenta previa. Twenty years ago this week I was fighting for my life and that of my baby girl. Twenty years ago this week, having recently moved across the country away from family and friends, I was rushed to the hospital, having made quick arrangements for the care of my two younger children. I'm so thankful for the neighborhood and church friends who rescued our new little family.

I am so grateful that I still live in the same town and as I drove to a dentist appointment on Monday, past the house we were renting at the time I was put on bedrest, tears filled my eyes as I sent prayers and assurances to the Me of twenty years ago: "Things are going to be O.K. Your baby girl will live and thrive and you will make eternal friends as they come to your aid both at home with your children and to you in the hospital. Your being in the hospital will also be the means of blessing those you need your influence."

One of those who was blessed by serving me was my faithful visiting teacher. We didn't know each other well yet but she sprang into action as soon as she heard of my need, and in our first phone conversation from the hospital she revealed to me that she was having fertility issues. In subsequent visits and conversations I was able to reassure her and steer her towards a more helpful doctor. Twenty years later, she is now the mother of four beautiful daughters.

As I felt the power of the events of twenty years ago, I had a strong desire to find out the exact dates that everything happened, and was delighted to find that I had kept all my calendars in a binder including notes on who had taken the kids or brought dinner, when I was admitted to the hospital, etc. I started posting these recollections on facebook, tagging facebook friends who are mentioned in the notes. I am so grateful for these eternal friendships and the technology that helps us to keep them alive and growing.

Another great treasure was uncovered when I opened these calendar pages: I had jotted notes in the margins of funny things the kids had said or done! I had completely forgotten about all these things and they are priceless jewels to me. I went through and read every single one, and I'm going to transcribe them, send the document to my kids, and also post it on our familysearch.org account.

I really, really miss my three older kids who are out of the house. I am so grateful I have one still at home and that he likes lie on the couch with his head on my lap while I crochet, all 5'6" 140 pounds of him. But I obsess about how much I miss the others. So imagine my delight when I found this time capsule of their sweet and funny words scribbled on my 1995 calendar. When I read their words I can hear their little voices in my head.

I also kept a record of things I had sewn and read, so would feel a sense of having "accomplished something" on those busy days. Those notes are marginally interesting but the greatest treasure is those experiences and memories of my children. I am so grateful to have been raised by parents and a church that valued family history, and keeping records, no matter how quickly scribbled. I am grateful that these past twenty years, so packed full of blessings, HAPPENED. They happened and I will always treasure them and nothing can take that away from me. And, to quote my friend Val who is farther along in this journey than I am (and whose daughter, a mother herself now, took care of my little kids when I was in the hospital), "There are many joys ahead."

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"To believe in God is to know that all the rules will be fair, and that there will be wonderful surprises." --Ugo Betti

Gluten-Free Bagels, Keeping Records, and Ghost Boy by Martin Pistorius

One of my friends has been encouraging me to write more, and although privacy is really important to me, in looking back over the progress we've made in the past few years, I'm really glad that I kept a record of when things were *really* tough and how the Lord sustained me. Mormons are encouraged to keep journals and the Book of Mormon is a record that was kept with great sacrifice and difficulty, since the ancient prophet-writers of the book were commanded by God to engrave His sacred word on gold plates that they needed to make themselves. I'm really compelled by these words of the prophet Jacob:

"Now behold, it came to pass that I, Jacob, having ministered much unto my people in word, (and I cannot write but a little of my words, because of the difficulty of engraving our words upon plates) and we know that the things which we write upon plates must remain; But whatsoever things we write upon anything save it be upon plates must perish and vanish away; but we can write a few words upon plates, which will give our children, and also our beloved brethren, a small degree of knowledge concerning us, or concerning their fathers—Now in this thing we do rejoice; and we labor diligently to engraven these words upon plates, hoping that our beloved brethren and our children will receive them with thankful hearts, and look upon them that they may learn with joy and not with sorrow, neither with contempt, concerning their first parents. For, for this intent have we written these things, that they may know that we knew of Christ, and we had a hope of his glory many hundred years before his coming; and not only we ourselves had a hope of his glory, but also all the holy prophets which were before us." Book of Mormon, Jacob 4:1-4

I feel like no time has passed and they are speaking directly to me.

So here we are, January 2015, and I've been spending a lot more time on sharing essential oils and helping others than desperately trying to get my son better. I'm consistently cooking and feeding him his special diet, giving him his supplements and oils, taking care of myself, improving the diet of the rest of the family, and balancing his care with other interests. I'm also allowing other people to help me. I think I'm doing a great job of taking care of my own mental health, which is so key when you are on the marathon (not a sprint!) that is special-needs parenting. The greatest blessing of him being at this stage of recovery is that we have a relationship with our son! He smiles and giggles and snuggles! This makes everything else worth the physical work that goes with caring for a teenager who is 5'6" and still growing, but is not toilet-trained. 

But I feel a lot of guilt for him not being "further along". He's HUGE. We have to double-diaper him in large adult diapers. He had to be anesthetized to have some dental work done recently and the anesthesia is not covered by insurance. If I could only muster up the strength and patience to do a better job of brushing his teeth. My husband and I are in middle-age and we are not going to be able to care for him forever. I still see progress in him and I believe in autism recovery, but I'm tired of appointments and therapies and what we are doing right now is what I can handle. I want someone else to toilet-train him and train him to do other independence skills. Better yet, I want him to start functionally communicating on his own and showing a desire to toilet-train himself. I just want to love him and cook for him.

Discovering the book Ghost Boy by Martin Pistorius was just what I needed to inspire me to keep going! I read it with tears running down my face. It is about a boy who was typical and intelligent but was struck with an illness that left him mentally comatose although still physically "awake", who started to wake up around age fourteen but couldn't talk or move his body enough to let anyone know. Finally one caregiver, who happened to give him weekly essential oil massages (!!!!!!!!), recognized his subtle efforts to communicate (eye movements, slight lifts of fingers, and smiles) and helped him get communication devices that allowed him to show that he was of very high intelligence. My son, who is going to be thirteen next month, and is nonverbal and functions at the level of a toddler, has been "waking up" since we started using oils. Tears flowed because this book could have been written by my son. I was so moved by the feelings of indignity and not being seen or understood that the author describes, as well as how much he craved being with his family and being read to. After a while I put the book down and snuggled with my son and read several books to him. This is a book full of HOPE and allows me to see the possibilities in my son. His parents didn't give up on him and this example gives me a boost of strength. It is also a very easy read. I am so grateful for pioneers like Martin Pistorius who remind us who is inside our kids! 

I learned so many things from this book! His dad always believed he would recover, even though his physical state was far more challenged than my son's. His warrior-mom put countless hours into his development. This is causing me to be more imaginative about what my son might be thinking, and look for more clues in his physical movements and sounds.

So how do I connect gluten-free bagels with Ghost Boy?

When I started on my son's recovery journey, one of the first things I was advised to do to heal his gut was to remove gluten from his diet. He doesn't eat sugar or baked goods but after a while I decided to see if I could make gluten-free versions of some things that I love to bake and eat, and eventually decided to go gluten-free myself. I spent months a while ago figuring out how to make really good gluten-free cookies with coconut oil instead of butter, and gave up several times, thinking there was no way to make them just as good. Then I would try again and I finally did it! (See recipe in the Recipes tab of this blog.) But I have never made gluten-free bread that I was the least bit satisfied with. I had this thought one day: "There MUST be a simple way to make gluten-free bread that is really good, and I know God knows the answer." I saw in my mind's eye this great open, wondrous field of possibilities, and I knew that the key to my yummy gluten-free bagels was out there. Last week while I was exercising, it popped into my head to make the bagel recipe from the back of the Pamela's gluten-free flour bag but substitute some tapioca flour (it's very chewy and stretchy, as in the wonderful Brazilian cheese bread) and add some baking powder (yeast doesn't seem to do the whole job with gluten-free flour for me). The bagels were AMAZING, good enough for my gluten-free taste-tester friends and most of all good enough for me. I ate 3-4 in one day. 

I had been feeling down that day and I know that God gave me that inspiration on that specific day because he knew that I needed to create something (the most powerful way for me to feel better) and have it be successful. He gave me the gift of the secret to yummy gluten-free bagels.

Yesterday morning on the way to church, thinking about the Martin Pistorius book and my son, I saw in my mind's eye a world of possibilities and had the SAME feeling as I did about the bagels! It was the same magical field that held the bagel-baking secret! "God knows how to help my son."

I had believed that because he is almost thirteen and still not talking and still in diapers, that we are stuck here and will be in the same place when he is twenty. But look how far we've come in three years! And Martin was twenty-two when someone first noticed that he was trying to communicate! He taught himself to read at age twenty-eight, and married in his thirties!

I am so grateful for the gifts of VISION, HOPE, and POSSIBILITY that have been given to me, this January 2015.

Two-Year Update

It has been almost two years since I have regularly posted to this blog, and with the encouragement of a friend, I am picking it up again, so this is a quick update. In January of 2013 I shocked myself by deciding to become a distributor for the essential oils that my son uses. This has coincided with his behavior being so much easier to manage, and while I still spend a lot of time cooking and caring for him, dealing with his behavior and worrying about him getting better has not been the main focus of my life. I have taught hundreds of people about oils and many of them deal with autism or Lyme, so it has been very fulfilling to help others in the process of helping my son. When I hear from another person who is doing better, I look at my son and tell him he has been the means of blessing another life.

I have been able to leave my son for a few days with his dad and other helpers and go on several trips by myself, no longer worried about whether they can handle him.

For almost two years, my son has gotten to play with a wonderful respite worker who sings, talks, and reads to him nonstop for three hours at a time, is six inches shorter than him and not the least bit intimidated.

His occupational therapist has been coming to our home on Monday nights every two weeks for more than two years, and at EVERY visit, is amazed by the progress my son has made since the last visit. This is quantifiable progress that she can report on, such as a much-improved pincer grasp, or him tolerating her working on his mouth, which he would never allow before. She told me that she has never seen a child as severe as my son make the progress he has made, and she says that on Tuesday mornings, all the other therapists at the clinic can't wait to hear what new thing my son has done!

In the past two years, my husband and I have had to adjust to not having a built-in babysitter at home since our youngest daughter started college, but we have managed! More tender mercies from God.

I have received key, life-changing helps with my anxieties from a wonderful energy worker named Sheridan Ripley, who has helped me to be more relaxed and hopeful, reminding me what a noble spirit my son is inside his challenged mortal body.

Our neurologist recently recommended a new drug for our son's subclinical nighttime seizures that were not being addressed by the oils, and he seems to be sleeping MUCH better and continues to be calm with no side effects so I'm hopeful that this drug is working for him.

We are still working on toilet training, with some success at home and at school, and my son is much more cooperative than he used to be.

I know he was in pain when he was so self-injurious, and was using hitting to tell us that and to try to get help. He used to want to lie on his stomach so much of the time. Now he runs around, dances, sits in chairs, rides a special bike at school.

He loves to be with people now and snuggle with us on the couch. He likes to lie on the couch and watch me crochet!

I read a book this weekend that inspired me with new energy to help my son grow and become more independent (more about that book in another post). I am grateful beyond words for the healing that has taken place in the past two years in my son and in me.

Porcupines

There are people in this world with prickly personalities who I like to think of as "porcupines". When not agitated, they can seem like cute, cuddly animals--they have the ability to behave politely and nicely--but can suddenly shoot sharp quills at you if you say something the wrong way or if they are in a certain mood. You can never relax around them. (For a wonderful book on how to deal with people like this, see How to Hug a Porcupine by John Lund.)

My autistic son started being a porcupine in the Fall of 2009. He would hit himself really intensely or hit me with his head if something triggered him. I could never really relax around him. In the Fall of 2012 he started noticeably improving until he is now averaging one short behavior or less per day, and he gets over it really quickly. One attempt per day is worlds better than one every twenty minutes, and he is just HAPPIER. I'm still really careful about not triggering him and I keep his karate helmet and wraps handy just in case, but things are SO much better.

This morning on the way to church, I thought about porcupine-people and was visualizing porcupine-animals and realized that my son is still a porcupine, but he only has one quill! I can easily deal with one quill, get over it, and not worry about it. God knows that I think in pictures, and visualizing my son as a porcupine with only one quill allows me to breathe, and relax.

I am so grateful for the goodness of God to lead me to expert advice and drops and drops of essential oils, to de-quill my porcupine and show me that he has been de-quilled.

A Christmas Miracle

Note/Disclaimer: This is not medical advice or a medical healing claim. I just needed to acknowledge God’s hand in my life and the life of my dear friend. I am sharing this with her full permission.

“Did God send a message that was just for me? Did I see His hand in my life or the lives of my children? …I will find a way to preserve that memory for the day that I, and those that I love, will need to remember how much God loves us and how much we need Him. I testify that He loves us and blesses us, more than most of us have yet recognized.” Henry B. Eyring

In 1999 my husband and I wanted to enlarge our house to make room for a hoped-for fourth child, and hired a wonderful contractor to do the job. Unbeknownst to us, that same year, his wife, was beginning her battle with Lyme disease. Who would have predicted that many years later, her life and that of our child would become eternally connected.

Mine and My Son's Story:

After finding out that we would not be able to conceive our fourth child, we entered our church adoption system and in 2003 adopted a beautiful one-year-old boy who had some developmental delays and a seizure disorder. His delays increased the older he got; he eventually received an official diagnosis of autism but stayed very mild-mannered until the Fall of 2009 when he started head-butting me and punching himself really hard, leaving dark bruises on his face and ears. It became a very intense job to figure out ways to pad and protect him twenty-four hours a day, while working with doctors and therapists to get the self-injury to stop. It was common for him to try to hit himself every twenty minutes, and any sudden noise (like someone sneezing) or anything that was uncomfortable for him (like having his shirt taken off) could trigger an episode that took a long time to resolve. His doctors prescribed various medications that did not help and had concerning side effects. One of the only things that would calm him was vibration and motion, either through riding in the car or holding a vibrating toothbrush.

Finally, I was blessed to discover a neuroplasticity program in my town which opened my eyes to the idea that my son could develop and have a better life. The director of the program looked me in the eye and promised me this, and opened me to a world of dietary changes and other helps that really got us pointed in the right direction. When that program ended, we had gotten a glimpse of the possibilities but the self-injury was still really bad. In November of 2011 I took him to a child psychiatrist who was so afraid of my son and his behavior that he told me I should take him to the ER right then and have him admitted. I promised that my son would calm down as soon as we got back into the car and insisted on having him help me come up with a medication plan which we yelled to each other over my son's yells.

While I was at this very low point, and after many prayers, fasts, priesthood blessings, and visits to our temple, I remembered I had a friend with two autistic sons who was doing all kinds of stuff to get them better from autism. I had been aware of her, but the experts in my life at that time had told me that things like diets were hard and didn’t seem to work. I noticed that she had posted something on Facebook about improvements her kids had made. I messaged her and asked who was her autism-recovery doctor, and she replied that she used a homeopath. She said, “She might have you do stuff that seems weird, but trust her. She’s a genius.”

I called the homeopath on the phone and this was the first time I felt completely understood! She had two children with autism diagnoses, had completely recovered one and significantly improved the other. Her son had been so violent as a toddler that she had been advised to institutionalize him.

I set up an appointment to bring my son to see her at her home office, and was not prepared to meet this young, beautiful mom who told me all kinds of crazy things! She said that Lyme disease is often present in autism, that many people have it without knowing it, that she had had it herself, and that you can get it from mosquito bites and other things, not just from tick bites. She gave my son homeopathic drops to take along with nutritional supplements, and made suggestions for his diet.

I did what she recommended and took my son to see her every six weeks. I made a huge wall calendar showing several months at the same time and decided to write in green marker any time something good happened. Weeks went by with nothing to write. Then one day my son went three hours without any self-injury attempts! So I gratefully marked that on the calendar. At first, the calendar was mostly white without any green, but as the weeks went by, I was able to add more and more good things so that by April 2012, the calendar was packed with green notes!

Mine and My Friend's Story:

In June of 2008 I had the unexpected blessing of finding out that the our dear contractor's family had not only moved to our area, they would now be attending church in the same ward (parish) as we were! Over the years I had continued to be grateful for him and his work on our house, and heard through the grapevine that his wife suffered from something called Lyme disease. When out hiking occasionally I had seen the warnings about ticks and a bull’s eye rash but I had never known anyone with the disease. When I met her the first Sunday at church, I was surprised because she didn’t look sick—she looked glamorous and gorgeous! We felt an instant connection because her husband had remodeled our house. They invited us over for dinner and as we were eating, I just came right out and said, “Tell me about this Lyme disease thing!” She and her husband shared their story of the ten years or so that had passed since he had worked on our house. At the current time she was doing relatively well, crediting a couple of years of IV antibiotics and many other treatments. It had taken years to figure out what was really wrong with her, at first thinking it was MS, and they had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on Lyme-literate doctors and treatments. They had lost a baby to Lyme. All five of their children inherited Lyme from her before she knew she had it and could pass it on to her children. With hired help, family, friends, and her husband's flexible job, they had managed to raise their beautiful family amidst my friend's illness and much time confined to bed.

Every time I saw her, she looked great, but sometimes she would be shaky or wavy. One Sunday at church she was teaching the lesson to our women’s group, and her whole body was doing the wave in a really big way, the entire time. She kept on teaching that beautiful lesson. At a women’s activity one evening, I noticed that her voice was hoarse and asked her if she was coming down with a cold. “No,” she said, “Sometimes my throat closes up for no reason and there is nothing I can do about it.” I was sobered by the reality that she could just have her throat totally close up and she could die. I thought how crazy it must be to live like this, but she didn’t act dramatic about it.

When her elderly mother passed away, my friend invited me over to try on some clothes that her mom had left that she thought might look good on me. I will always remember that huge pile of beautiful clothes in the her family room, with my friend lying on the couch next to it, and her husband feeding her breakfast bite by bite. She would tell me to try something on, and with each outfit she would give me style pointers and tell me how beautiful I looked! I went home with an absolute treasure trove and felt so blessed. For weeks after that, I would email photos to her of each new outfit I was wearing, and from her sickbed she would email me comments and advice.

My friend seemed pretty functional but she had days each week where she could barely move. Because I had experience being in the “adversity club” with my son, I was really interested in her and her illness and was not afraid of it like some people can be. I asked detailed questions and looked for ways that I could help. I pressed her pretty hard to let me help with anything—cooking, cleaning, etc. but she would not budge and would not let me do a thing. Finally she said, “Well, there is something you can do for me. There is a religion class I like to attend on Monday mornings that’s 45 minutes away and sometimes I have to miss it because I’m too sick to drive. Would you like to go?” Now, at that time in my life, the LAST thing I wanted to do was go to a religion class, especially on a Monday morning. But because I recognized that this was something that would help her, I agreed to go.

This was such a great decision! I promised to always drive so that she never needed to worry about how she was feeling that morning. This also gave her husband a few hours every week where he knew that someone else was watching over his wife. It was on these car drives that we became very good friends and she taught me from her wealth of wisdom and spiritual education she had received during her years in bed, where she had drawn comfort and strength from studying the scriptures and other church books. The class was wonderful, too, really broadening my mind and enriching my soul.

Our family’s lives became intertwined as well—one of my daughters shares a birthday with her third son and they had a birthday party together. Another son helped me with my son and his neuroplasticity exercises. She and her family were always so loving and compassionate towards my son.

After I started working with the homeopath, we added another friend to the Monday religion class carpool and I talked a lot about what I was doing with my son. I knew for sure that what we were doing was helping him and if I know something will help someone else, I am not shy about sharing it. My friend's Lyme symptoms were worsening and it became pretty common for her to barely be able to get ready and into the car on a Monday morning, but she pushed herself and rarely missed a class. All of her children have experienced Lyme to varying degrees, but when her third son turned 17, his Lyme symptoms took a tragic turn. In addition to suffering pain and fatigue, he started to have seizures. You would look at him sitting in church and he would be shaking all over. His parents took him to neurologists and did EEGs, but no drugs could touch these Lyme-induced seizures. When I would go to my friend's house, it was not unusual to see her son lying on the couch, too sick to go to school. Often my friend and her son would suffer their worst symptoms on the same days. It just broke my heart to see this handsome young man so sick with an "incurable disease" and wonder what kind of future he would have. It was so hard to look at him at church, shaking in front of everyone (how must that have been for a teenage boy?!) and not be able to help him. Since my son has seizures, too, I related.

My friend also started to have seizures which were becoming more and more frequent. One afternoon I was on the phone with her and she casually mentioned that she had passed out in the shower the day before and didn’t know how long she had been there. No one had been home. I encouraged her to get a shower chair and again felt so worried about the seriousness of her situation. One day as we were riding home from our religion class, with her in the front seat and our other friend in the back seat, I could tell that she was even more tired and uncomfortable than usual. She reclined her seat and closed her eyes, and when we were almost to her house, she said, “I think I’m going to have a seizure.” I parked in front of her house and asked what she wanted us to do, and she said we should try to get her into the house. We opened the car door and helped her stand up and she said, “I’m not going to make it,” and then she started to seize and went down and the other gal and I kind of caught her and helped her get to the grass. She proceeded to have a grand mal seizure on the grass in front of her house. As she was going down, I wanted to help her but she asked me to stay out of the way as she was worried about me getting hurt from her thrashing body. (Her husband actually called me that night to ask if I was O.K. because he was worried about me having gotten hurt from helping her.) I think the seizure lasted between one and three minutes and then we asked her what she wanted us to do. She asked us to help her get into the house and we asked if she wanted to go to the couch or her bed but she said to just leave her there on the living room carpet. She was willing to let us get her a pillow and a blanket. We offered to stay, we wanted to stay, and she insisted on us leaving, saying, “I’m going to be doing this all day.” I felt bad about that but felt I had to honor her word, so I called her neighbor who was really generous about checking on her, and she went over.

She had SO many seizures at this time! Many, many seizures in one day. If her husband came up behind her in the kitchen and startled her, she would often drop to the floor and have a seizure. She could not go to movies or any place where there was loud music. Her husband stayed home from work many days because he was worried about leaving her alone. The vibrations from the organ music at church were hard for her. Her neurological system was shot.

My Friend's Husband, Our Bishop:

In June of 2012 our congregation found out that we were getting a new Bishop. In the Mormon religion, our local pastor is called a Bishop and it is something he does in addition to his paid career. It is absolutely vital to have a healthy, functioning wife if you are going to serve as Bishop. As we all like to do, in our family we speculated about who the new Bishop would be. I think many people thought that my friend's husband *would* have been the most likely candidate if she wasn’t so sick. I couldn’t imagine him being called to be Bishop under these circumstances. But lo and behold, he was called to be Bishop, and he accepted! This is one of the most impressive acts of faith I have ever witnessed and is so characteristic of this family. My friend and her son were getting worse and worse yet they acted in faith to do what the Lord asked them to do. Their family and extended family were consistently praying, attending the temple, and petitioning God for healing.

Help from the Homeopath:

As my friend and I would talk in the car every Monday, I would share what the homeopath was recommending for my son, and after a while, after every neurologist and Lyme-literate doctor had thrown up their hands and had nothing that stopped the seizures, she decided to take her son to see the homeopath. My friend's budget was maxed out from having spent hundreds of thousands of dollars over the past twelve years on every treatment they could find, so she spent her budget on her son, not on herself. Even though she was incredibly sick, her focus was on getting her son better. (He improved, graduated from high school, went away to college, and is currently serving a full-time church mission in Ohio. Even though his schedule as a missionary is grueling and the temperature extremes in Ohio are extra challenging for a person with Lyme, he is thriving.)

While all these challenges were going on with my friend and her son, I was in the thick of things with my son. I was spending at least $600/month on office visits and homeopathics imported from Europe (none of this covered by insurance), not to mention the cost of feeding my son an all-organic whole-food diet. Although I could see he was improving under the homeopath's care, he still made a ton of self-injury attempts every day and my hands were full. Still, the homeopath had taught me month after month that she did not believe in incurable diseases and that you can get better from things. I sat in her office after we had talked about my son, and I said, “I really want to help my friend with Lyme. Isn’t there anything you can recommend that I can do for her?” She looked me in the eye and said, “No.” I don’t believe that she didn’t think there was anything that *could* be done for my friend. I think she could see that I was maxed out with my son and she didn’t want to participate in encouraging me to add anything else to my plate. Even though she had been through a lot with her own children and others she was helping, during one of our visits when my son had a really bad hitting episode, she told me later she went home and cried. She has the most compassionate heart and wanted more than anything for him not to suffer like this.

Essential Oils Join the Protocol:

I think it was in August of 2012, after one of our appointments, our homeopath walked me out to the car and told me she had just had an intriguing experience in Utah where she had run into health coach at the dentist’s office. They ended up talking for two hours, and this person hired our homeopath on the spot to help her do some wellness education, including essential oils. Our homeopath had never had good results with essential oils in the past and had not used them in her practice. However, as she tried the products from this company and became impressed with her results, she started introducing them into my son's protocol, at the beginning of November 2012. I had seen some videos about frankincense essential oil helping with seizures, which are one of my son’s issues, and I noticed that frankincense and other oils were helping my son to become calmer so I started learning more about them as well.

In November of 2012 I was getting really, really desperately worried about my friend. She was actually missing church. This meant that she was REALLY sick. Even if she had been bedridden for the whole week, she would usually manage to make it to church. At one point, she had ONE good day in a whole week and came over to my house so I could give her some vitamins to send to her missionary son. I offered her a pea pod from the vine by my front walkway and she said, “Oh, I can just TASTE the nutrition!” That gave me an idea. Maybe we could get people from church to give her extra organic produce from their yards. Maybe we could get people to take turns coming over and sitting with her so her husband could go to work. It was absolutely unacceptable to me to see my dear friend literally dying of seizures, while her husband was doing his best to care for her, support his family, and lead our congregation.

I was praying before but I really started praying even more earnestly in this dire situation. None of the Lyme-literate doctors had anything else to try. I drove my friend to Orange County to see a new specialist and I sat next to her while the doctor reviewed everything she had already tried. Then he said, “I have to be honest with you. I don’t think this treatment we offer can help you.” (Bless him for being honest!) On the ride home she talked on the phone to another specialist who was difficult to get an appointment with and didn’t seem to have anything new. But our homeopath had taught me that your body could get better from “incurable” diseases. She would tell me every single visit, “Your son is going to get better.” And I ingrained this belief into my own mind. One day as I was driving and praying for my friend, the clear idea came into my head, “Give her some of your son's frankincense.”

I knew that this was an answer to my prayer but I also knew that my friend had been offered lots of “cures” over the past twelve years. I put some frankincense into a plain bottle so she couldn’t tell what it was, and I brought it to her house, where she was sitting at the kitchen table with her husband and some of our wonderful missionaries.

I told her that I had been praying and this was the answer I had received. I hoped she wouldn’t think I was too crazy. I handed her the bottle and before she opened the lid (she told me later) she just knew, “This is going to help me.” She opened the lid and smelled it, and said, “I don’t know what this is, but I want to drink it and bathe in it!” She absolutely adored it from the start. I told her she could take it internally (this is only true for certain brands of frankincense) and rub it on her head, neck, spine, and/or feet. She used what was in the bottle for about a week and believed that she was improving. When she felt a seizure start to come on, she could sometimes head it off by smelling from the bottle. When she ran out of this sample and gave me her report, I told her, “If you promise to use it and give it a good try, I will give you a whole bottle for Christmas.” This was very significant as she is so close to the Savior, brought especially close through her Lyme journey, and had brought me much closer to Him through her teachings to me. This was special to me as well because December was “free frankincense month” for this company and I felt good about giving her my free bottle for Christmas. She used it faithfully all month and by the end of the month, she was SURE that this was turning things around.

Her last seizure was Thanksgiving of 2012, very shortly after she started using frankincense.

As I am writing this on Christmas Eve of 2014, it has been more than two years since my friend has had a seizure.

My friend continued to use frankincense every day, combined with various other oils as she continued to heal, and it has been amazing to watch her come back to life. In her first year of healing I was awe-struck as I saw her do so many things she could never do before, such as:

--Participate in a 5K with flashing lights and loud music.

--Go to the beach.

--Take a huge role in planning, flowers, receptions, etc. for two sons’ weddings.

--RUN across a parking lot. (On bad days she used to hobble if she could walk at all.)

--Be a massively busy and supportive volleyball mom.

--Work tirelessly as a Bishop’s wife and in several other demanding church assignments.

In 2014 I started to really miss my friend. She was always running around and doing something! I used to be able to count on her being confined to bed, easy to reach and talk to. I was disappointed that now I had to wait for her get around to checking Facebook or emailing me. She was too busy living life. And then I found out she was JAZZERCISING every day! That means loud music and full physical exertion! I am not a fan of exercise or loud music but I started Jazzercising with her just so I could spend a little more time with her. Every time I see her, living such a full, active life, I am in awe of God’s plan and the way He blesses our lives and allows us to participate in blessing each other.

Note: Since November of 2012, my friend and I have discovered many others with Lyme disease who are improving with the help of essential oils. Although I thought she was crazy at the time, our homeopath was right: There are many, many people out there with Lyme disease. I am sharing this to acknowledge God’s hand in my friend's healing and that of my son and so many others, and to share the truth that healing can happen!

Note/Disclaimer: This is not medical advice or a medical claim but a personal story acknowledging the hand of God in my life.