The Tunnel

2 Kings 20:5 "I have seen thy tears, behold, I will heal thee."

I remember the following happening as if it were real, not as if it were a dream. I call them scenes because it was as if I was watching a movie that I was in but I felt all the emotions and pain yet they skipped from one scene to the next w/o me falling asleep and/or waking up.

The first 'scene': The only people present were my parents, my siblings, and their spouses. We were actually on a vacation that my father had planned for all of us and it was to learn to depend on your spouse. My father kept telling us that he had been planning this trip for some time to a place in Central America. We were all walking together, having a great time, when, all of the sudden, we found ourselves in a narrow tunnel. This tunnel seemed very deep underground, as we had to carry torches to light our way. We began travelling through the tunnel which was about 8 feet high, and 4 feet wide, when we noticed drawings on the walls, the floors, and the ceiling. The floor was very smooth-obviously man-made, but it seemed ancient. Thousands of years old. We were not able to understand any of the writings, but I remember thinking, as I looked at them, that this was what it must have been like in 'Book of Mormon' times. After travelling like this for a length of time, we suddenly found ourselves in a very spacious room. The path we were following dropped off into a large expanse of water that encompassed the whole of the cave. Every few feet a large log appeared, standing upright, right out of the water. Each log pillar was of varying height, but they were all about a foot in diameter. At the far end of the pool we saw a tunnel leading out of the room. This tunnel was filled with many torches which gave it the appearance of exceeding brightness. As we stood on the edge of the water, my father spoke of an exercise that we would be performing as a family, more specifically, as couples. He told us that the exercise would be difficult and dangerous and that we would need to have complete trust and faith in our companion if we were to succeed. He told us that we were welcome to turn back, but that if we made it to the far side, we would be greatly blessed. There was not a single person who hesitated, not even for a moment. We were all very anxious to go forward. My father told us to cross the length of the water by stepping from pillar to pillar, yet this had to be done with our companion. He told us that we had to become one in our thoughts, our movements, and our hearts. Then came the terrifying news: when the first person stepped foot on the very first pillar, the water would begin rising! We had to determine who would go first and who would go last. In order to see the path we needed to take, our parents were required to go first (as if they had done this before), no one else in our little group possessed the knowledge to reach the other side quickly enough. Both of my parents despised this thought, but they also knew that it was necessary to get everyone across safely. The ensuing discussion became an argument, as each of us desired to go last. No one could stand the thought of anyone else not making it through. The discussion went on for a brief time until my brother, Joseph (the eldest), spoke in a very quiet yet authoritative tone telling us that there was to be no more disputations; that he would go last. After that was said, not another word was spoken on the subject.
There were torches surrounding the water, yet they were few, making the water dark and the pillars difficult to see. As soon as my father stepped on the first log the water began to rise. Not rapidly, yet we knew it would require complete focus to cross in time. We soon discovered that the most successful and rapid manner to cross was for each woman to be carried on the shoulders of her husband. It was understood by each member of our group that, although the man provided the strength, the woman provided the balance. Thus, 'neither is the man without the woman, or the woman without the man.' (1 Cor 11:11)
As we slowly made our way across the water, it became apparent that it would be impossible for each of us to make it across in time. The mood became incredibly sad and sober and we all began praying for help. It seemed to me that everyone was trying their best and doing their part; that we just didn't have enough time. Every once in a while, someone would stumble, and when this happened, every other hand shot out to help them regain their balance. No one fell fully into the water. As we prayed for help, we noticed that the tunnel on the far side became brighter and then, in the midst of the brightness, a man appeared. This man walked into the water, and rather than helping us one at a time, he began to push, and raise the ceiling! This was a solution that worked, yet one that none of us thought possible. And yet, here was this man performing, what we supposed, was a miracle!
Each of us reached the far side in safety and we were all anxious for this man come with us. Yet he would not. He told us (without speaking!) that if he were to move, the entire cave would collapse and everything we worked for would be for naught. Each of us felt an immense sorrow and an unspeakable respect for this man. Somehow, we all knew, as did he, that he was sacrificing himself for us!
I recall running out of the tunnel and then the scene changed.

Remembering

I remember being scared as we drove home to St. George from my parents home in Orem right after the holidays in January 2009. I was in so much pain by the time we reached Cedar City that I was curled up in the fetal position and letting my boys see the fear and pain in my eyes. As a mother, I have always been aware of the need to shelter my boys (at least when they were very young) from getting too frightened. I knew there would be times that they would experience pain and discomfort, but I also knew that Tony or I would be right there to comfort them and reassure them that they were protected and that all was right in the world. However, by this time in our drive home, I was in such severe pain that I was almost delirious and I remember knowing that my pain and fear were apparent on my face, yet realizing that I could not control those reactions. I HATED that! More than the pain or the fear: I hated knowing that my boys could feel it and that there was nothing I could do about it! I had lost the ability to control that.
When we arrived in St. George, it was very obvious that we needed to go straight to the nearest ER rather than go home. This was a very frustrating thought because I had been to three emergency rooms during the past week trying to find a reason for my pain and each visit just made us more concerned and confused. I knew that I had a cyst on my left ovary because I had an ultrasound done at my OB/GYN's office in St. George before we even went to Orem for Christmas. It was done on December 22, 2008, because the last period I had started at the beginning of November and I was still bleeding at the end of December. The ultrasound technician told me that the cyst was large enough that there was a possibility of it torquing my ovary and preventing the blood supply from reaching that ovary. We thought this was the cause of my pain and we were sure to tell every ER doctor and nurse about this. The doctor at the first ER visit even ordered another ultrasound, but it showed the blood supply reaching the ovary so we were told that was not the cause. I was sent away from that visit with pain medication and the advice to call my OB/GYN after the holidays. Little did I know that by the new year, I would be fighting for my life! At the subsequent ER visits we were given the same advice, but there was not another ultrasound performed and there was not (at ANY of the ER visits) a pelvic exam performed, which struck us as a bit strange.
The last thing I remember was being admitted to Dixie Regional Medical Center in St. George after that terrible car ride. In future posts, I will write about the things that I saw while I was in a coma for two weeks. During that time, I was unaware of countless doctors trying to save my life and countless prayers on behalf of my family and friends given asking the Lord to spare my life. For the next little while I will be writing what I remember. After that I will retell some of what I had been told and then I can write what I remember after waking from my coma.

One more try!

I've decided that it's worth it for me to jot down a few thoughts every now and again; if not for other's benefit, then for my own and my family's. Lately my life has been in complete upheaval and I have found myself relying again and again on my new-found strength. There have been many times where I have found myself wondering if I could be the pillar of strength so desperately needed during this difficult time in my boys life. After all, that's just what they are: little boys. Little boys who I love more than I could ever describe. But, every day, somehow or other I have made it through, making sure to celebrate the little victories. Just yesterday may have seemed like the most ordinary Sunday to most: I woke up, got the chicken in the crockpot, helped my husband get our boys dressed and the four of us off to church, returning to a home smelling of the perfect after-church meal smell, and later making brownies which we shared with our darling neighbors. To me; however, yesterday was a gigantic victory. I awoke feeling well, not groggy from my numerous medications; I stood up, after rolling on my silicone liners and forcing what's left of my legs into prosthetics; I readied the chicken for the crockpot, doing so without fingers; we got off to church, on time and without me feeling like I was drowning in my own sweat; returned home, being awake and alert enough to prepare dinner; and finally making brownies, and walking to my neighbors and back without having to sit down once because of my prosthetic pain!
I relate this story, not to gain any pity or congratulations, but to remind myself (and possibly others) that it is in the small, everyday moments that we find the most joy. I was able to accomplish things yesterday that, three years ago, seemed absolutely impossible. And I was able to do those things all while contemplating the wonder of that love that we, as mothers, have for our children. I was able to fully appreciate the sweet glances from my hubby that both of us knew meant more than a full dictionary could describe.
So....to those who are struggling, which I'm learning is practically everyone, find your happiness in places you never thought to look!