General Update

 From Paul:

20260201 Cycle 9 Week 1

This week begins Cycle 9, which was the first cycle not to include an infusion. Doris mentioned yesterday that she is feeling slightly less pain in her shoulders. That is a good sign.

Today I am thinking of my heritage and legacy of my forbears. Yesterday was the 100th anniversary of my father’s birth in Moroni, Utah. He was a “home delivery” because where his family was living there were no hospitals. 

My father was the son of a finish carpenter who also worked at the school next door as a custodian. My father often shared the occasion of his father’s teaching him about wood working. When Dad was tasked with sanding some of the drawers of the cabinets my grandfather had crafted, his father pointed out that he had not completed a full job of sanding because he had not sanded the bottom of the drawers. To my father’s response that “nobody would know”, my grandfather told him “I know”. From that lesson passed on through generations I learned that work includes not cutting any corners. If anything is worth doing, it is worth doing well. 

Tom Brokaw wrote a book entitled The Greatest Generation. My father was a member of that generation. He enlisted in the army and graduated high school in his army uniform. He refused to take an easy way out when he was offered a cadre position where he would fill a non-combat roll for the army in preparing recruits for deployment to their combat locations. He declined. He wanted to serve his country in the fullest way possible. He eventually was deployed to the European theatre, spending most of his time in Germany. When I was serving as a missionary in Belgium, my companion and I were going door-to-door searching for people whom we could teach about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. When we knocked on one door, the gentlemen invited us in and asked if either of our fathers had served in the military during World War II. I was pleased to respond in a positive manner that my father had indeed served in the military during that time. He told us that he did not want to listen to our message, but asked that the next time we wrote home to thank our fathers for their service in his behalf. 

My father had a strong interest and aptitude to study medicine. He was offered that opportunity, but chose rather to pursue a career in education so he could spend more time with his family. Somehow, amidst his working three jobs, sometimes all three at a time, he found time to work with his children, and teach us how to work, whether it was in doing yard care, fruit canning, household cleaning, cleaning up the dishes or in employment opportunities.  He took my brother and me to the schools to perform daily janitorial (sweeping we called it) duties at the high school, or an elementary school during the school year while he also taught adult education night school and also high-school students during the day. He gave all the money earned for sweeping to my brother and me to divide between us. When the school year was over, the three of us worked at the school deep cleaning in preparation for the next school year. We learned to wash walls, student desks, windows, window frames, lights, chalk boards, and to strip floors with a scrubber. 

My father taught me to work smart. He often would say that you shouldn’t stand to do a task which you could do sitting down. He crafted seats from scrap lumber that sat upon an scooter with 360-degree turning capabilities. That scooter was kept in its position by a perimeter extension of the lumber side walls. There was a cubby hole underneath in which the worker could keep a putty knife or scraper to assist with cleaning, the spray bottles for furniture cleaning, or window cleaning. And we had a foam seat pad to make sitting more comfortable. I recall one day we were scrubbing or stripping the wax off the floor of the hallway. These were standing days! My brother David was on the scrubber which required the ability to manipulate the electrical powered equipment that spun about its axis perpendicular to the floor, and guide it around to effectively strip the wax off the floor and to clean the vinyl asbestos tiling of the floor without missing any spots, so the floor would eventually receive a fresh coat of wax. This was a learned skill, and there were some humorous episodes when a football player on our crew thought it looked easy and he wanted to give it a try. It was more than the big guy could handle. The gentleman who was the crew leader for us pointed out that my brother had missed a spot. My father said, “Put you finger in it. It is half an inch deep.” He taught us to work, and when others would share compliments with him about our work ethic, he would always pass those compliments on to us.

My father did not teach me how to hunt, to fish, or recreate. But he taught me to work an honest day for an honest wage. He worked beside me for eight hours each day for four or five summers. If you were to ask me whether I felt cheated because we did not play very much, I would answer, that I was not cheated, but I was enriched because even in my father’s working three jobs - two or three at a time - I was nurtured, trained, supported and complimented by working with my father. 

In the back drop of that legacy and heritage, I have the opportunity to engage in a different kind of labor of love for my sweetheart and to undertake with her this journey of healing. While it is not always pleasant, it is certainly less devastating than other treatment experiences of which I am aware. Nevertheless, it is a journey of pain and endurance, limiting our abilities to pursue more leisurely activities, or participate in the service opportunities to which we are inclined and anticipated. I am grateful that God, in His love, wisdom, and compassion understands our hearts and sends His grace to comfort and sustain us.

From Doris:

Recently I reread the Book of Mormon account of the Jaredites’ journey to the promised land. According to the scriptural account, they were inside barges for 344 days at the mercy of storms and winds.

Before they began this journey, the brother of Jared asked Jesus Christ to touch sixteen small stones with His finger so that they would shine, giving them light for the long voyage ahead. Jesus did.

I am in the midst of what feels like a very long journey. I am beginning my 9th of 24 cycles of cancer treatments. The oncologist told me I am now on autopilot. From his point of view, my journey is straightforward.  Every 28 days I will have my blood tested. Every 56 days I will meet with him or one of his assistants. This is my journey for the next sixteen months.

There are days when my journey feels dark, but I too have been given light from heaven to guide me. This light comes through many mediums. Here are some of them.

• The gift of the Holy Ghost
• Answered prayers
• Sacred music
• Time in the temple
• Insights and comfort from reading scriptures
• Reading the words of modern prophets
• Literal sunlight
• Being in nature
• Family and friends
• Laughter
• Interactions with our grandchildren
• Paul’s kindness

It is my hope that by focusing on the light I have been given, I will weather the storms ahead of me.