Being Gloria Fretz's Bishop

This year for Christmas the ward decided once again to put together Christmas baskets for members of our ward that were deserving of a little extra love.  Jonathan and I spent several hours purchasing food items and materials for the baskets.  We went to the church to drop off all of the items in the kitchen so they would be ready for the youth to assemble at mutual.  Jonathan isn't able to help carry anything anymore so I lugged all the food inside alone.  On my last load I looked over this sea of heartfelt love and paused, I realized for the first time my season as a bishop's wife is coming to a close.  For 5 Christmases I have stood alongside Jonathan as he has worked with integrity to bless the poor and the needy.  For 5 Christmases I have been his go-to-girl as he has loved, ministered and lifted this time of year... loaves of bread, flower bouquets, boxes, baskets.   Pondering my experiences brought an awareness of approaching closure on this chapter of our lives.  

However, 5 Christmases has brought more than a reason to ponder.  It has dealt the dear bishop an upper hand.  As the boxes were being assigned for delivery there was one box that Jonathan very willingly set to the side assuring others he was happy to deliver himself.

Gloria Fretz's box.

Gloria Fretz is a 92 year old woman that drives a mini-van with rubber duckies covering the entire front dash.  Gloria Fretz is spunky.  Gloria Fretz doesn't miss a Saturday morning church cleaning assignment and brings here own supplies.  Gloria Fretz has had 92 years on earth to reach perfection, chocolatiering perfection.  European chocolatiering perfection.  After serving as her bishop for 5 Christmases Jonathan knew what she was up to this time of year.

And he capitalized.

But pride cometh before the fall.

And he did.  Backwards off of her steps, hitting his head so hard his vision became blurred and he started to shake from shock.  It was the hardest I have seen him fall and his first time falling backwards forcefully.  We have his new leg braces that we picked up yesterday to thank for that gesture.  They help him to stand more erect but they force his weight backwards.  Which quickly becomes problematic when attempting to Christmas carol from a flight of stairs.  Dear Sister Fretz opened the door to a lack of singing and Jonathan lying prostrate in her front yard.  Adam and I lifted Jonathan back to his feet and the little kids sang a song with gusto.  She was so pleased with their singing she threw in another box of chocolates.  Sadly, as we left she informed us that his was her last year of chocolate making and so we would have to savor every bite.  And we did.  Thanks hun for lunging from cement steps for these chocolates.  Even little Anna knows perfection when she see it.

Yellow wool reborn

18 years ago as a senior in high school I wore that yellow sweater.  I don't remember why other than we were supposed to wear something hideous.  I rummaged a second hand store and found the itchiest thing on their racks.

Last night the sweater was reborn.  Just last month I looked at my box of costume clothing in the attic and told myself to just get rid of it because I likely would never use it again, but the in the back of my head was the little voice that said I would eventually have teenagers and they would need hideous clothing.

And so the 2017 ugly Christmas sweater was born.  I found a glitter stag, silk poinsettias, and jingle bells.  Added a touch of hot glue and hideous yellow sweater circa 1999 made it's way onto the runway again.  It was a really proud moment as a mother.

Cozy Coupe... Remade by Matthew

Christmas break is in full swing and yesterday the kids were antsy.   They were getting restless so I told the big kids to grab the little kids and take a lap around the neighborhood... about a 3/4 mile loop. From inside the kitchen window I saw Matthew riding through the backyard with an empty cozy coupe tied to his bike grinning ear to ear.  I have to admit, he is more of a genius than I will ever be.  I could see in his grin a recognition of how brilliant he was, a pat on his back for making his job exponentially easier, and deep down a little boy bliss knowing how insanely fun this was going to be for Aaron, probably wishing he were once again the stubby-legged two year old in the cozy coupe.  He eagerly solicited his tag-alongs, even dressing Aaron up in his own personal froggie hat and gloves Grandma Jenson gave to him from days living in North Liberty, IA.  And they were off.  Again and again and again.

And again today.

When Maggie realized how much fun she was missing out on she grabbed her hat and gloves and put Matthew's brains to the test once again.  This time forcing him to create a cozy coupe built for two.

My mama heart burst inside.  I love these little dumplings.  Every smidgen of them.  Then mother hen took over and I realized how dangerous it was to have Maggie hanging out the backside of the car going the speed Matthew's legs were pumping and instigated the passenger helmet rule.  I love these people.

Never Be Afraid to Trust an Unknown Future to a Known God

Maggie left for preschool at the Moss's home this morning leaving the two littles at home with me. Jonathan had physical therapy so he was gone for the morning as well.  Aaron was causing restless trouble and so I took my que to bundle them up and head outside.  It has been particularly cold and humid this past week, but this morning the windows weren't frozen over when I drove Michael to school (because he has recently refused to get out of bed to ride the bus with Andrew) so I knew the "bite" wouldn't be quite as intense when we left the house.  

I loaded them in the stroller, wrapped them in their blankies and started off down Mesman away from the park.  I love going for a walk because when it is cold, there isn't much talk and I am left alone to my thoughts.  So often at home there is chaos, and daily tasks blaring at me so I don't have time to really see my thought processes through.  Going on a walk brings serenity and time to think.  Lately I have been feeling so oppressed by thoughts of our future.  Of my future.  Mourning the life I have spent my entire life dreaming of and envisioning.  Mourning who I thought we would be.  As we walked the tears came and I remembered my thought after reading Elder Bednar's most recent conference talk... Christ brings hope.  Hope in the very moment that I am in.  When the Savior asks us to cast our burdens at His feet I find my greatest burden is tomorrow.  And tomorrow's tomorrow.  An endless sea of scary, dark, unpredictable, unmanageable, too heavy, too sad, unforeseen tomorrow's that I don't want to face.  I don't want to know how hard it is going to get and I don't want to live that hard.  And then these words came to my mind...

At the time I couldn't remember when I had heard them before, but they flooded me.  And I knew I had to cast my burden on the Lord.  I had to give him all of my tomorrow's.  Every-single-one.  Because I really don't know what my tomorrow's will be.  From where I stand now they are tomorrow's I don't want to face.  But I don't see what He sees.  I don't know what He knows.  I only KNOW that God is love.  My entire life He has been a God of nothing but love, patience, goodness, and kindness.  A God of miracles.  A God that has given me so much joy.  Is He not constant?  Is He not unchangeable?  Then cast all my tomorrow's at his feet and have HOPE in my today.  How can you look into the face of a child so perfect and not have hope?  Not have reason to rejoice, to smile, to breathe peacefully?  Hope is my today.  Because today, is a beautiful day.  And if every today there is hope, we will be okay.

So we continued on our walk winding up and down the streets of the neighborhood past Redwood Park.  We stopped to watch the flock of Canadian geese, I thought for sure Aaron would chase them into the sky, but he timidly stood back and watched.

"Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." 

Matthew 6:34

The Day I Was Diagnosed the Wife of ALS

This photo was taken 2 days following Jonathan's diagnosis.  Under sweet Maggie on my lap, is a swollen mama belly with a little sister waiting to join the fam.

 I became the wife of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis on December 9, 2016.  I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with our 7th child.  Previous to Jonathan's diagnosis I defined myself as the wife of the most amazing man on earth, mother of 6 awesome kids, daughter of an Idaho pig farmer, biology educator, many, many things.  But this took the course of our lives into an unknown that I never anticipated.

Symptoms of ALS began for Jonathan the summer of 2016.  In August, Jonathan was serving as the Bishop of the Riverside Ward for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  As such, he was attending a young men encampment with our stake.  He found himself on a ski boat with a group of boys and leaders and took his turn in the water.  It was then that his first inkling that something was not quite right began.  He was unable to maintain his grip on the water-ski rope.  His left hand has always been weaker than his right due to two finger amputations as a child, but this time behind the boat it was his right hand that was giving him fits.  He couldn't keep a firm grasp on the rope.  He thought it was odd and over the next several months continued to notice a change.

Jonathan's right hand continued to cause him to seek answers for noticeable changes.  He started dropping his keys, his phone, and popcorn (Which was nearly a nightly treat at our house.  Jenson's DO popcorn.  After a late night at work or the church he would come home, pop a bag of popcorn and we would reconnect after another long day of not seeing each other.  I would stand in the kitchen and he would pull up a stool at the counter and I would watch him drop kernels all the way to his mouth). Working as a nurse anesthetist, Jonathan had many opportunities to inquire after educated minds regarding what could be wrong with him.  A hand surgeon suggested he try wearing wrist splints in case he was sleeping on his arm wrong.  Which he did, but it didn't help.  His 1st counselor in the bishopric was a chiropractor so he went in for an adjustment, to which he noticed no change.  We wondered if he had carpal tunnel, a bulging disk in his neck, or a pinched nerve somewhere.  As we continued to wonder what was wrong with his hand he lost the ability to do up his top shirt button or tighten up his tie.  I was usually home and assisted in dressing him, but on one particular evening I wasn't there to help and he had to speak at the hospital.  He dressed himself, all except the top button of his shirt and tie and headed for the hospital.  There he found a dear friend of ours, Rich Huffaker, whom he asked to help him finish getting dressed before he had to speak in front of a room of physicians.  When Rich realized that Jonathan's hand weakness had progressed to the point that he could no longer dress himself he decided to step in and told Jonathan he spent enough time taking care of everyone else in this world and it was time for him to take care of himself.  Rich had a friend that was a neurologist and made arrangements to have Jonathan meet with him to take a look.

The day everything changed without a single thing around me changing...

December 9th was a Friday nearing Christmastime.  It was close enough to Christmas for the air to be filled with excitement but not so close to be filled with stress.  It was that magical window when life with kids is sublime and scrumptious.  I babysat a few extra kids after school that day and had just shipped them out the door with their mom.  Jonathan left early in the afternoon to meet with the neurologist in Medford.  Adam and Matthew and Andrew had earned free pizza's at school because of good attendance.  Magic was in the air, and I was rather large and pregnant.  I decided this Friday night was going to be free-be pizzas, a new cookie recipe with Hershey kisses in the center (which were actually gross by the way - I don't know how it is possible to ruin a cookie with a clump of melted chocolate in the center, but these were horrible) and a family movie night.  We ran to pick up the free personal pizzas for the boys, baked cookies, and I watched the clock thinking that surly Jonathan would be coming home soon.  His appointment time was over 4 hours ago and I still had not heard anything from him.  I thought it odd he was taking so long.  I tried calling him and finally got through.  I instantly asked him what the doctor said and asked him why it took forever.  He said he found a few things out, but that we would talk about it when he got home.  I pressed him to tell me but he was vague and again said we would talk about it when he was home.  I told him we had pizza and cookies and a movie waiting at home so to hurry along!  When Jonathan walked in the front door he took off his jacket and hung it on the first hook in a line of 9 where his always goes.  I noticed large armpit sweat marks in his yellow University of Iowa t-shirt.  He had been sweating and crying.  As usual he was rushed at the door by 6 kids that loved their daddy more than anything on earth and I asked him again what he found out.  He suggested we enjoy a family movie night, eat cookies and talk about it after we put the kids to bed.  And so we did... kind of.  Jonathan and the kids piled in the living room to watch the movie while I finished up in the kitchen.  Within just a few short moments with two kids on his lap, Jonathan feel asleep in the big brown chair.  Because I knew this man who was the other half of my soul, I also knew whatever he had found out at the doctor, he had googled.  I opened his phone sitting on the half wall of the living room and read the title of the article.... Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.  That meant nothing to me.  Nada.  I read on, ALS - now we were getting somewhere.  I had heard of an ALS Ice-Bucket Challenge but didn't have a clue what the heck ALS was either.  I read on again.  The description of the disease in the article was 100% spot on exactly what Jonathan was experiencing.  And then I read this, "ALS has no effective treatment or cure.  100% of persons with ALS die from the disease and typical life expectancy is 3-5 years."  I got hot.  My head pulsed and I went to my room and laid on my bed and read the article all over again.  Then I googled more articles about ALS and over and over again I read the same thing, and I knew this was for real.  I was officially diagnosed the Wife of ALS.

Valentine's 2014

Goodness so much life has happened in the past 9 months.  Is it #5 that causes the death of the blog?  So many reasons to write things down... it's those same reasons I want to go to bed at night and not linger later on the computer.

Valentine's 2014 was the same as years past, pink milk, pink toilet water, raspberry french toast, and hearts.  Lots and lots of hearts.  So much to love in this blessed life of mine.

The midnight ensemble after prepping breakfast and treats and toilets and mirrors for the hazy eyes of little ones come morning.

Jonathan was post call this Valentines and didn't have to go into work.  That is a first in a long time.  I usually like to plaster his car with some sort of Valentine but this year he found them in our bedroom instead.  We spent the day redeeming $355 worth of pop cans and bottles for a cub scout fundraiser.  We hauled an entire trailer and pick-up load of cans to Medford for redemption in the down pouring rain.  Ahhh... one more reason I love the man.  Nothing says romance like sticky, stinky cans and rain pouring off your nose as you unload bag after bag after bag of other people's garbage.

That my friends is real romance.

Toothpaste on my phone

Maggie finally grew enough hair to use a barrette.  I was so proud of this little darling that I wanted to take a picture and send it to my mom.  LOOK GRANDMA MY FIRST BARRETTE!  When the phone session in the bathroom mirror was finished I smiled in utter delight.  My first photo.  Almost got the angle I wanted.  Put phone down on bathroom counter.  Adjust my hold on Maggie.  Pick up phone.  Take a second shot. 

Even more significant than the perfect shot of Maggie's very first barrette was my incidental perfect shot of my perfect REAL life.  Toothpaste smudges picked up from the bathroom counter on the white face of my phone.  I will forever cherish that picture.  The beginnings of greatness captured in real life.  I love these nuggets I call kids.