My talk on Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine’s Day my brothers and sisters. There’s still time to go out and find your valentine and give them your heart. I’ve had particularly burdensome week this past week. Wednesday night, Brother Malone and I had to make a presentation to our Early American Lit class at Moorpark. I can’t tell you how nervous I was to stand before a class of confused, wary and extremely cynical young people to talk about one of our country’s founding fathers, the great, Benjamin Franklin.

I have to testify to you that it is a miracle for us as Latter-day Saints to have the light and knowledge of the gospel in our lives. In spite of the fallibilities of these men, God choose them to be on the earth at a critical time in our nation’s history.

It amazes me to watch the progression of history from Columbus to Franklin in regards to the desire and thirst of so many for religious freedom. They wanted to believe in God as they felt in their hearts rather than having an old, flawed religion forced on them. But the youth in our class see this as an opportunity to criticize and vilify the founding fathers and our nation.

Sometimes I just want to stand up in class and scream: get over yourselves already. The Lord directed these men and women to come and settle this country. There had to be a place and a social attitude of religious fervor for the gospel to be re-introduced to a starving world.

It’s hard to watch these bright, intelligent and searching souls in our class struggle with the limited knowledge they have of the Lord’s plan for America. They just don’t have the understanding or spiritual knowledge to recognize the Lord’s tender mercies to the people of early America.

As we look at the nation and the things that are happening all around us today, it’s not hard to become bitter and cynical. It takes a real concerted effort and timely practice to recognize the Lord’s blessings and mercies to us in our own lives.

That’s the thought I’d like you to keep in mind as I tell you how Brother Malone and I met. I want you to look into your own lives and search out those moments when you felt the Lord’s tender mercies and intimate blessings. If you’re like me, you may have to look hard, not because the blessings aren’t there, but because we don’t always recognize them for what they are.

I’d like to say that Brother Malone and I are probably one of the few married couples in the Stake that DIDN’T meet at BYU. Our lives were on very different paths before we met. It always amazes me that some many things had to click into place before Brother Malone, Tim and I found each other. It wasn’t a smooth road to true love. Believe me.

I was born in Logan, Utah in the LDS hospital that once resided across the street from the Logan Temple. I was born into a very, very long line of Mormon ancestors. I have ancestors who helped build up Nauvoo and European folks who walked the plains of this great nation in search of religious freedom to settle in Utah.

A couple of years later, Tim was born in sunny Covina, California to parents of a different faith and ideology.

His father came from humble farmers in Oklahoma who were unassuming and sincere Christians. His mother came from a long line of preachers of a different faith.

While I grew up in North Logan, I did the usual Mormon stuff: mid-week Primary and Junior Sunday School and attended sacrament meeting with my family. But so did everyone else in the entire community. Nobody was different. I lived a simple, uncomplicated and idyllic country life.

As Tim grew up in a big city setting, his family attended various churches with his mother in search of something that would satisfy her intellectual concepts of religion and her spiritual desire for the original gospel of Jesus Christ.

I grew up on a chicken ranch where my father raised and slaughtered chickensfor markets and restaurants all over the Western States. My mother kept my dad’s company’s books and raised me and my four older brothers.

Tim’s father was a former Navy cook and worked as a butcher in grocery stores in the city where they lived and his mother was a school teacher and raised Tim and his older brother and four older sisters.

We were both the babies of the family. Teased to the point of misery but spoiled rotten. Now that might not mean anything to you, but if you study family dynamics, that meant both of us were used to having someone else take care of us. This proved to be both a blessing and a curse in our relationship.

While I was being taught the gospel truths of my ancestors, Tim’s mother was being introduced to the gospel by the principal at her school. When Tim was five, his family joined the church and became members of the Covina First Ward. When he was six, his family went to the temple and was sealed together as an eternal family. This was one of the most magnificent blessings of Tim’s young life.

My joy on the other hand, was having parents who’d been taught as young people the joy of marrying in the temple before having a family. I was born under the covenant my parents made to each other. I reaped those marvelous blessings in my early years.

Through financial disaster and the bottom dropping out of the chicken business in Utah, my family lost everything and we were forced to leave Utah to seek employment in Southern California. At the time, I didn’t consider this much of a blessing. Only later when I could look back on the incident with opened eyes did I see the hand of the Lord directing my parents.

We moved a couple of times and finally settled in Covina and attended the Covina Second ward.
After becoming a member of the church, Tim grew up enjoying the blessing of his family’s new found church. He experienced Primary, Sunday School, scouting and attended sacrament with his family.

It’s always fascinates me that we lived in the same stake, probably attended the same youth activities and never knew each other. I was a good friend of his older sister when we began in the Young Adult program.

At that time, there were no young adult wards only those at BYU and other colleges. I was first introduced to the young adult program on a ward basis as a newly graduated senior. I loved it. My bishop called me to be the ward Rep for the program and I launched a personal campaign to search for the perfect man to marry.

At the same time, Tim finished up high school and headed off to Ricks College. (Now BYU Idaho.)

I have to qualify something about myself. I was a terribly shy, vulnerable young woman who had the unfortunate characteristic of wearing my heart on my sleeve and falling head over heels with any young man that even looked in my direction. And if they spoke to me, well, I was a goner.

Tim dated at Ricks. I only dreamed about dating—everyone I saw.

When Tim came back to Covina to plan for his mission, I was heavily into my education, institute, young adult activities and trapping a man. Partly because of Mormon folk lore, I felt if I reached the ripe old age of twenty one and wasn’t married, something was horribly wrong with me. How ridiculous.

Around this time, the young adults of our stake met as a group every other week for religious instruction. I had the blessing and fortune to be attending the college where Brother Gerald N. Lund, the author of the Work and the Glory series of books was my institute director. He also taught the bi-weekly young adult lessons. His gospel instruction was something I count as one of my greatest blessings from the Lord.

This was the first time I remember seeing and meeting Tim Malone. He came to one of those classes with his older sister. My first thought was, holy cow, how immature. What a nerd. (Sorry dear!)

Just a side comment here sisters. When you look around, take a second look at the younger guys. Don’t discount them because they seem immature and juvenile at the present time. (No offense guys.) They will eventually lose their immaturity and could prove quite fascinating. Don’t over look them as you search for the perfect companion. Besides, like I figured, you’ll need someone younger to take care of you in your old age.

Needless to say, my first impression of Tim wasn’t a good one. Thank the Lord we can change our minds.

Then out of pure luck or the Lord’s inspiration, Tim’s parents bought a home in my ward. Tim went on his mission and I finished college and went to work. Now that I was getting up in years I started to panic thinking I might never meet the man of my dreams.

When Tim returned from his mission to Central America,he started attending the same college I graduated from and began his career as a techno nerd. My best friend was now the Young Adult Ward Rep and Tim’s best friend was male rep.

We were thrown together in the same ward doing the same activities and attending the same meetings—but there was still no attraction, no recognition. Tim was flat out obsessed with my best friend. I thought, “she can have him!”

After I graduated from college and worked for a few years, my astute and wise bishop called all the un-married young women of my ward into his office and challenged us to go on a mission. My first thought was “good grief, I’ve just entered the un-married woman “flux vortex” and now my worst nightmares were confirmed. I would probably never marry. I didn’t have a lot of faith.

However, I was the only one out of ten young ladies that answered the bishop’s call and went and served a mission to Zion—NO, not Utah. I served in the Missouri Independence Mission. I walked on the same sacred ground where Adam walked and talked with Heavenly Father and the Savior. I stood where Joseph Smith had dedicated the temple ground and the holy spot where Christ will return to usher in the millennium.

I also stood in the place of Joseph’s greatest torment, suffering and instruction, the Liberty Jail, where he received revelation and blessings from the Lord and by so doing, blessed the lives of the early saints even though they suffered unspeakable hardships. It’s an experience I shall not ever forget and a blessing of immeasurable greatness.

What I didn’t recognize at that time, was the Lord’s hand in my life—his tender mercies in my behalf. That proved to be a very big mistake on my part.

Because my mission honed and refined my testimony of gospel truths and gave me insights into my character which helped me define what I really wanted out of life.

But being the character that I was, I fell just a little bit in love with every cute little elder I met.

In my last area, I fell a lot in love with a Lieutenant in the Air Force in Omaha and didn’t want to come home when I was released.

Tim moved from job to job while I was gone on my mission and when his parents retired and moved away to Utah, Tim bought their home. For an Elder’s quorum assignment, he had to write a letter of encouragement to me while I was still serving my mission. I still have that letter. Just one of those strange coincidences. Right?

When I returned home, Tim was still actively pursuing my best friend. However, she made the crucial error of inviting me to tag along with her and Tim on their date to Disneyland for Mormon night.

Her mistake.

Do they still have Mormon night at Disneyland? Anyway, Tim and I had a better time together on their date than she did. We had more in common—having both served missions.

What was very good about our budding relationship was the fact that we became the best of friends. There was no pressure to impress him like in a normal dating situation.

Since I wasn’t in a “serious” dating relationship with Tim, I was allowed to be myself and he liked me in spite of all my unhappiness, inadequacies, anxieties and my PMS; that’s Post-Mission Stress disorder. I’ll bet some of you have felt that!

Tim understood the pain of separation I was feeling at having to leave behind the people and companions I had worked so hard to love and serve. He knew what I needed to stay motivated to keep the covenants I’d made in the temple when I was a newly called missionary and then when I was a recently returned missionary I needed to hold strong.

He’d already passed through that rough phase of his life and learned a valuable lesson which he was able to pass on to me. Through his experiences, I was able to be comforted about being home and on the path to restarting my civilian life.

We spent many long hours together talking about the things we had in common, our love of the scriptures and of the gospel and we compared the similarities of our struggles in life. In my mind, we were forming a bond of mutual respect, admiration and…something much, much deeper.

Little by little I began to forget about my lieutenant in Omaha.

In my heart, I wanted to take our relationship further, but I’d had my heart broken in the past, so I didn’t think I could trust it to be honest about my feelings for Tim. Besides, he was still stuck on my best friend and doing his best to maneuver her towards a marriage proposal.

My best friend and I were the ultimate Dodger fans and when the opportunity to go to a Dodger game came up in the form of great seats to a game, for some strange reason I declined to invite her. Instead, I felt inspired to invite Tim.
It wasn’t a real date as I gave him his ticket before hand and he drove to the stadium from his job in North Hollywood and I drove to the stadium from my job in the City of Industry.

We just met there as friends.

But during the course of the game, Tim proudly announced that he finally gotten the nerve up to send my best friend a bouquet of red roses and a note declaring his undying love for her. I felt my heart being squeezed right out of my chest. It was an unexpected and crushing blow. Somewhere in the process of becoming his friend, I’d begun to love him.

As I sat half-hearted watching the Dodger lose, as they are want to do, I scribbled a little broken heart on my program. I didn’t think Tim would notice. Well, maybe I was hoping he would notice, but it’s hard to tell with guys. Sometimes subtle doesn’t always work.

But he did notice. And the following day after he went to a ward softball practice he dropped by to see me. It was one of those days ladies, when you throw on the grubbiest cloths you own to clean around the house. My hair was a mess, I was sweaty and hot and my face was streaked with dirt. After Tim’s declaration of the previous night, I was seriously considering my return to Omaha to pick up my relationship with the Lieutenant when Tim knocked on my door.

As we sat on my couch in my living room, it soon became apparent that the Lord had moved on Tim and he realized the error of his ways. Besides, my best friend turned him down flat.

During the night the Lord touched Tim’s heart and let him see that I was the best person for him and would make his life complete and keep him laughing. I, of course, already knew that.

The next day Tim asked me to marry him and within two months we were married in the Los Angeles Temple. We’re the only couple that can claim we never actually dated each other before getting married. My best friend hasn’t spoken to me since.The Lord has blessed our lives in numerous ways. Our greatest tender mercy from Him was given to us a year after we were married. We were blessed with a son, our only child, Mike. Which by the way, is the name of the Lieutenant in Omaha, but don’t tell Tim.

To say our married life was free of trials and joy all the time would be a lie. We had our share of problems, worries and frustrations. We moved an excessive number of times for employment. Our parenting skills were less than perfect and our son, Mike, who should be sitting here with you today, has chosen a different path in life. But that’s a talk for another time.

The road to true love, happiness and wedded bliss are not easily traveled. You have to trust in the Lord’s goodness and mercy when all seems at a standstill.

To say that there is only one guy or one girl out there that is your perfect “soul” mate is ludicrous.

The one thing that stuck in my mind about Brother Lund’s teachings to the young adults was when he told us there were an infinite number of people you could be content and happy with and with whom you could make a great marriage.But the two of you have to have your hearts centered in the gospel, make and keep the sacred covenants of a temple marriage and commit to and serve one another faithfully. Through my vast experience in life, I’ve learned that couples don’t actually “fall” out of love as many claim; you just stop serving your partner. As I learned on my mission, you will come to love the people you serve.

Take each Sunday and use it as a day of remembrance. Remember how merciful the Lord has been to you. Imagine your life without the blessings of the gospel. Evaluate your qualities as a potential marriage partner. Are there things you need to change? Are you spiritually prepared to take on the role of wife or husband, mother or father?

Remember, the Lord has promised you all that He has. It is my testimony that the Lord will bless you in this life tenfold if you seek His blessings and remember to give thanks for His help already received.

It is my prayer that we’ll all try a little harder to see the Lord’s sustaining hand in our lives and recognize His tender mercies even though they don’t appear as such at the time. This is my prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Are you Blue over Avatar?

Experiencing the Avatar Blues? Hah!

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm obsessed with the movie Avatar. We saw the movie three times in one week. I have the sound track and the actual script on my computer. I’ve even watched just about every YouTube video productions having anything to do with the movie. I even joined the Pandoran World Updates. Silly. Right?

Now I read silliness from articles from the likes of this New York Post story and from a (CNN) news story that people are experiencing depression and suicidal thoughts after seeing the movie because "they long for the beauty of the alien world Pandora." What's up with that? There's even an "Avatar Forums" thread entitled "Ways to cope with the depression of the dream of Pandora being intangible." They can’t be serious. I hope they can't see me while I'm laughing out loud. IT'S A MOVIE, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! People get a grip!

I have to say I was fascinated and mesmerized by the movie. I was completely taken in and I loved it. Tim and I saw it in 3D at the local IMAX. Who wouldn't have been sucked into the flux vortex of the movie? It felt like you were right in the action along with Jake Sully, his Avatar host body and his girl friend Neytiri. But that doesn't mean I want to live there. Come on, blue is my favorite color, but for skin? Yikes!One man wrote: "It's so hard [after seeing Avatar] I can't force myself to think that it's just a movie, and to get over it, that living like the Na'vi will never happen." Does the term "insanity" mean anything to this person? Does this person like indoor plumbing and the Internet? Fast food and driving a car? Not something the Na'vi have at Hometree on Pandora.

Another fan wrote" Ever since I went to see 'Avatar' I have been depressed. Watching the wonderful world of Pandora and all the Na'vi made me want to be one of them....I even contemplate suicide thinking that if I do I will be rebirthed in a world similar to Pandora and then everything is the same as in 'Avatar.'" Like Selfridge said to Grace, “What the hell have you people been smoking out there?”Come on people! Grow up and smell the bioluminescent plants! THERE'S NO SUCH PLACE AS PANDORA! THERE ARE NO AVATARS! Just as there is no Munchkin Land. No Tatutine. No Klingon Homeworld. No Never-Never Land. And believe it or not, Mr. Obama, No Camelot! These are just the imagings of talented, genius people who offer us a couple of hours escape from our normal, hum-drum lives. These are not real places, not destinations on any map and we can't get there if we die. I can pretty much guarantee that.

I wrote about this phenomenon when Twilight came out and people ranted that teenaged girls were throwing away their lives over loving Edward.Is that even possible? Are there vampires around for girls to throw their lives away on? As I commented then, these stories are fairy tales, phony stories, and imaginations. Something that looks good on paper; sells well and makes a wonderful story for a movie that sells tickets and makes the producers tons of money.

But we as a society put way too much emphasis on what we perceive as the “realities” of the fantasy world of movies. It’s very sad really, to see people take Avatar seriously as if it’s a real place, a real people with a real society. It struck me as particularly funny when I heard someone say they weren't going to watch the apocalyptic "2012" until 2013, because then they would know we survived the end of the world.It might be pretty on the imaginary planet moon Pandora; a beautiful untouched, unspoiled place. But James Cameron described it as a "primeval landscape, vast and forbidding" or "the most hostile environment known to man". It's a place where if you don't wear your "Exopack" to breathe, you're going to be "unconscious in 20 seconds and dead in four minutes". And the animals; I can't say I'd be delighted to run up against the likes of a Thanator or Viperwolves or that flying dragon-bird thingy, the Leonopteryx. Not a place I'd like to visit anytime soon. Of course the glowing phantasmagorical forest is kinda neat. And the Polyphemus-light of the waterfalls is something special. And I wouldn't mind if the Woodsprites (pure spirits) landed on me. But hey folks, let's face it. IT'S NOT REAL! THERE'S NO SUCH PLACE!! The notion that one can kill themselves to obtain said Pandora is as silly as the name of the mineral the earthlings are stripping from the planet--unobtainum. .Does Cameron have an environmental agenda? Maybe. Probably. But who cares? So did the creators of "Fern Gully", "Medicine Man", "Wall-E", "Happy Feet" and "Happy Gilmore" (don't throw your life away on golf **hint, hint** Tiger Woods **hint, hint**). It's the in-thing to do. If you’ve got some cause or other that you worship and have the ability and the money, to offer your cause up in the form of entertainment in the hopes that people will change their wicked and evil ways and do what you want. It's done all the time. Just check out all the latest Disney movies; environmental wacko stuff to the max. But does the world stop turning because someone puts their skewed views of the world on film? No. Or in this case, digital media? We just watch and love the movie. Then maybe for the next few weeks we recycle all our plastic and walk to work. (Not in California though.)When we went the third time to see Avatar, Tim sat next to a gentleman from Israel and his wife. When the movie was over and he was visibly touched, he asked Tim if he thought watching this movie would change the social conscience of the world so we'd quit destroying the planet. I tried really hard not to laugh, but this guy was serious. Does he really think the world is being destroyed like the one Cameron described in 2154? Ridiculous! Not only can't we destroy the world as small, insignificant human beings, but the Lord wouldn't allow it. But then most environmental proponents don't believe in God, just their own puny reckoning, the arm of flesh, so to speak.

Can we ruin parts of the environment? Undeniably. Think do-do birds, whales and dinosaurs. Well maybe the dinosaurs weren’t our fault. But if Al Gore had lived then it would have been our fault that they're not around anymore. Sometimes I wish I could introduce Al Gore to a t-rex. Chomp! Chomp! Just like the lawyer in Jurassic Park. Yum! Yum!

There’s another thing that bothers me. Does James Cameron want you to "loath" the military just like President Clinton does? Isn't that what happened when you watched "Dances With Wolves"? You hated the Calvary, didn't you? I did. I was furious with them for wanting to kill the Indians and take Lt. Dunbar’s journal. But could I do anything about it? Absolutely not. But you have to remember those military types that Cameron portrayed were mercenaries for hire sent out to Pandora for the money. They weren’t in the military any more. They didn't hold with military thinking. If they did, they'd have all been more like Trudy Chacon and Jake and would have their hearts touched with the injustice of the situation.

Which brings us to the environmental issues of today. Are we really killing our "Mother", the planet earth? Some people, some very powerful people suggest that we are killing our planet by driving cars, spraying hair spray, eating at fast food joints and not recycling. Yet somehow the planet manages to go on without interference from us.Just consider volcanoes for a moment. They erupt, spewing ash into the air and poisonous gases such as sulfur dioxide, hydrogen chloride and hydrogen fluoride. That’s a heck of a lot more stuff than you or I or the entire world’s population can produce by living our lives or driving millions of autos around. Yet we’re told that humans are destroying the planet. Just consider the emails from Climategate that suggest Al Gore-type scientists were interfering with legitimate climate research and falsifying research to suggest there is global warming when there isn’t. Interesting stuff.

Another aspect of the movie that I found interesting, however, is if this movie is so accurate to the time and is set in far distant 2154, why are they still using helicopters and machine guns with bullets? Wouldn't we have progressed to Millennium Falcon's or Ti-wing fighters and lasers or something? Then what chance would the flea-bitten savages have against lasers? None! They have elevated trains on earth but no hover crafts in space? That’s just another example of not taking movies at face value.And believe it or not there are still places on "Mother Earth" where you can get bare-butt naked and romp through the verdant green undergrowth of old growth forest and jungle and mingle with flea-bitten savages. You can even hunt down your own food with bows and arrows and use leaves for toilet paper. From Central and South America, the islands of the Pacific, New Zealand to Africa there are still wide open spaces. Heck! Where do you think they filmed some of Pandora? Come on. Guess. You don't have to be blue about not having any green. There are still places on this so-called ravished planet where nature rules and man doesn't set foot often. Haven't you seen "Planet Earth" on the HG Discovery Channel? This wondrous earth still has deep recesses of cyan blue of oceans and rivers, purple majesties of untouched mountains and deep greens of the rain forest. We just have to open our eyes.

Lastly, we should drop all the analysis and the psychological mumbo-jumbo—IT’S JUST A MOVIE PEOPLE! Enjoy Avatar strictly for what it’s supposed to be. An exceptionally fine movie, a sensational discovery into futuristic movie making, a triumph of weak over strong, a change of attitude and purpose and above all else—a tender love story. Don't attach so much psychobabble to what you see in a movie theater. If you do, you probably will turn blue, and then die!

But then if you're as obsessed as I am, enjoy the music video:

Marc and Cass get married.

(This is a new section from my latest book. I love writing about weddings and marriages. This is where the bride and groom are together one last time before becoming man and wife expressing some of their anxiety and apprehensions about getting married. Marc had been married before and had two children by another woman--a woman who was less than perfect. I hope you enjoy it.)



Today was her wedding day.

A pale pre-dawn glow filtered softly into Cass’s room casting muted golden shafts on the carpeted floor. The light would have most likely awakened Cass, but she was already awake. Sleep had not come easily or often during the few short hours following the activities at the Swane’s home, saying a last romantic good night to Marc at her doorstep and this feathery light of dawn creeping into her bedroom. Her mind had been too full of last minute concerns and her head spun with the frightening realities of marriage. She couldn’t get much rest.

It promised to be a glorious day.

In a few short hours she would be Mrs. Marc Swane; Cassiopeia Swane. The thought brought a smile to her lips as she stretched languidly trying to push the tension out of her body from her toes to the tips of her fingers. There were still a few hours before they had to leave for the temple and Cass thought to use the leisurely quiet and undisturbed calm of pre-dawn to think and to ponder. This was the day she’d looked forward to since she began to realize boys didn’t have cooties anymore. So much of her teen and young adult life had been spent in preparing for this one single day and the days, months and years that would follow this day. Learning how to cook and clean; how to mend jeans, unstop a drain, shop for bargains, and serve a gourmet dinner without spending a fortune. She’d learned the art of rearing children, making a home and serving her family at her mother’s knee without being aware that’s what she was doing.

The lessons she received from her parents came in simple, intimate moments rather than formal classroom type settings. Those wonderful experiences she’d shared in her parent’s home gave her the confidence she needed to follow her dreams in education and now to become a wife. Even though she still felt some apprehension and concern about becoming Marc’s wife, with the confidence she’d gained from her growing up years and her training and education, at least she felt educationally prepared to be the wife Marc would need. She prayed he would be proud of her and that he wouldn’t have to worry about her slipping a gear and morphing into Lilly.

She knew Marc had been spooked by his first marriage and now was extremely hesitant about getting married again. What man wouldn’t be scared to death after having survived an experience like he’d endured? Words of assurance would not be enough to convince Marc she was different. Only time and positive experiences would prove to him he hadn’t made a second mistake. It worried her that he might be watching and waiting for her to snap or freak out or transmutate into his ex. Somehow Cass knew she would feel like she was a lab experiment in the beginning of their relationship. Whether she liked it or not, Lilly would hang over their marriage until she was exorcised out like an evil demon. Cass could only hope and pray that Marc would trust her, love her and give her a chance to demonstrate to him she was a totally different person from Lilly Goodhaven.

That’s why having the gospel at the center of their marriage was so vitally important; knowledge and inspiration were power—her power, his power. The gospel lessons she’d been taught by her parents were no less important than the physical ones. Being worthy to marry Marc in the temple today, made her feel radiant and light, as if she were a receptacle for the spirit. She’d need that light and inspiration to deal with Marc’s demons and phobias. She’d need the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost to aid her in teaching Marc’s innocent but confused children. She’d need the spirit to assure the children that there can be a loving mother figure in their lives.

Those children needed her.

As Cass studied the patterns the expanding light of dawn cast on the floor and walls of her room, she couldn’t help but feel that the whole thing was still a beautiful fantasy and if she made a sudden move, the dream would end. Silly. It just seemed positively unreal that the time had finally come when she was going to be someone’s wife and someone’s mother all in one moment. In a few hours she would give herself to a man and become his wife, his helpmeet, his lover and assist in raising his children. She would need every blessing the Lord had in store for a newly married woman. She knew they needed to start their married life steeped in the traditions of the gospel; family and personal prayer, regular scripture study and faithful church attendance. It would make their life together easier if these simple commandments were followed in the spirit they were intended. It was a promise Cass made to herself in the stillness of the morning and a promise she intended to keep to Marc and his children.

Today she would be sealed to the man she loved.

Unfortunately Phoebe and Adam would not be sealed to her today or any other day. This realization gravely disappointed her. Intellectually she understood that only one sealing was necessary for the children. They just had to be sealed to somebody, as it were, they were born under the covenant which was the most important ordinance. It didn’t matter to which parent. It didn’t even matter if one or neither of the parents remained faithful, it only mattered that the sealing was preformed. Somewhere in the family links, they would be sealed. It shouldn’t have bothered Cass, but that didn’t stop her from feeling bothered by it and feeling some envy. She had to keep reminding herself that only worthiness mattered in this case. So while she lay in her bed welcoming the morning, Cass would put it aside and relish her special day.

It still amazed Cass that the preparations for their sealing and reception had been accomplished so quickly. It had been a frenzy of activity since Marc proposed to her. So much of normal wedding planning usually took weeks if not months to be accomplished and they’d done it in two weeks time. She owed it all to Maggie Swane and would be forever grateful. Having Maggie and Ralph Swane as her in-laws couldn’t have worked out better if she’d created in-laws herself. She loved them as much as her own parents and would be forever grateful they’d raised a son like Marc.

She thought about the tempestuous way she had Marc had come together. There was the incident with Marc’s dog Max and her suit, the sidewalk confrontation after her trip to San Diego to the kissing incident at the end of the street. It seemed as though fate, or the Lord, had steadily been pushing them together. She wondered what it was precisely that drew her to him, besides his obviously rugged good looks. He had been nothing but rude, arrogant and disarming every time they’d had a chance meeting. Only a deep abiding love could have brought them together and kept them together despite the complications. It surely wouldn’t have been a logical match. She had to giggle at that because she thought she and Vern had been a logical match and look how that turned out. She was right sure there was nothing logical about what she felt for Marc. What she felt for him turned her inside out. Passion was strong in their relationship, but there was something much, much more—much, much deeper and longer lasting. There was a fire there, a consuming, radiant blaze that heated the blood and forged the bond strong like tempered steel. She was absolutely sure she’d never find this kind of heat, this kind of union with any other man—ever. She’d proved that when they were separated for a month and a half. She couldn’t imagine living life without Marc. And that’s as it should be.


Marc was just beginning to doze again for about the fiftieth time. Most of the night he’d tossed and turned and slept pitifully. He shouldn’t be having second thoughts about marrying Cassiopeia. He loved her with all his heart. She was perfect for him and his children. She was so far from Lilly by comparison as to not be on the same chart, but that didn’t stop him from wondering what their married life would be like and if Cass would share any of the same characteristics with Lilly. The time they’d spent getting to know one another and dating had been a swirling tornado of highs and lows. He was so sure about Cass until the meeting with Lilly and her parents in the Bishop’s office. Then he wasn’t sure he could ever love a woman again and forced her away. That had been the second biggest mistake of his life—forcing Cass away. He might as well have cut off his right arm as keep her at a distance. Once he’d found her, there was no going back. They were meant to be together just as his father has prophesied. And just as his father had said, he was to accept the responsibility of the Lord’s challenges placed before him with eagerness.

So what kept him from sleeping?

It wasn’t the thought of marrying Cass precisely; it was more about the fact that he hadn’t proven to be a very good husband. At least he thought he hadn’t been a good husband to Lilly. He didn’t exactly have a good track record in the husband department. He hadn’t helped Lilly overcome her problems and he hadn’t given her what she needed to keep her happy. It hurt to think that he’d tried and failed. But maybe now after everything about Lilly had finally come to light, he could see that it probably wasn’t his fault that she’d turned to drugs and worse. He wasn’t responsible for making her happy. No one was. And it wasn’t his fault that she chose to hate him or the children. He’d been powerless to stop her from making horrible decisions and from ruining her own life and for trying to ruin his and the children’s lives as well. All he could do was try harder to help Cassiopeia find happiness by giving her his heart totally and without reservation.

His mind drifted to his charming and sexy Princess. What was she doing in the early morning glow? Was she still asleep, her beautiful, sweet face relaxed in slumber, or was she already up and moving, her active mind going over the organization of the day to the precise minute detail?

He needed to see her, to touch her and make sure she was real and his.

Jumping from the enormous bed they’d chosen together and thinking with a big smile—they would sharing tonight as husband and wife—he shoved his long legs into his favorite pair of worn jeans, zipped and buttoned them quickly and drug on an old worn t-shirt. After a brief unsuccessful search for his work boots, he grabbed up a new pair of tennis shoes and ran from the room.

He crept quietly past the sleeping children’s rooms and hustled downstairs and out the door. Until he stopped on her driveway, he hadn’t stopped to think if she’d be awake or not. So he bent down and picked up some fine pebbles from her flower garden and tossed a couple at her window.

Her mind was still going over the exact procedures and progress of the day when she heard a clack, clack at her window. It sounded like a bird tapping on the glass. Throwing her silky robe around her shoulders and belting it, she walked to the window and pulled open the shutters. Outside in the dim light of dawn, Marc was standing in her driveway throwing little rocks up at her window. Smiling, she threw up the window and leaned out. “I think there’s a law against vandalism this early in the morning. What are you doing up so early?”

“I need to see you, Princess,” he smiled.

“I’ll be right down.” Her heart did a little tap dance in her chest. But whether it was from fear or nerves, she wasn’t sure. What could he possibly want this early in the morning? Had he changed his mind since last night? Oh, dear Father, please don’t let him change his mind.

She moved quietly through her bedroom, tiptoed through the hall and down the stairs to open the door for him. She no sooner opened the door than he scooped her up in his arms and started plying her face with kisses. “Marc,” she sputtered. “What…”

“Shh, let me kiss you.” Greedily he kissed her bringing her tight within the circle of his arms. She was real and warm and his. His worry filled dreams had given him unhappy thoughts that he might have conjured her up from his overactive imagination. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still real and that I didn’t dream you up.”

Cass slipped her hands up his chest and tangled them in his hair bringing his mouth back down to hers in one scorching kiss. “Does this feel real enough for you?”

Smiling, he nodded. He knew he was toast. He dragged her to the sofa and sat pulling her onto his lap. “This is the last morning we’ll wake up alone, Princess. I just needed to see you one last time before we do this.”

She tried to read his thoughts through the serious look on his face and in his enigmatic grey eyes. “Second thoughts? Cold feet? Running scared?” She tried to make it light.

He took both of her hands in his, his eyes fierce and determined. “No. No to all of those questions.” Then he kissed her fingers one at a time until she shuddered. “That’s the one thing I’m positive about Cass, and that’s you. You’ve been in my head since I saw you standing in your driveway muttering to yourself the day after you dumped good old Vern. I wanted to rush across the street and gobble you up and take you away some place quiet and dark and make mad, passionate love to you until we were both too exhausted and spent to breathe. But I think you would have cut me off at the knees if I’d have tried to even talk to you then.” He laughed and looked closely for the first time at what she was wearing, or in this case, not wearing. A smile, broad and wicked erupted across his face. Cass sensing his shift in attitude clutched the thin robe to her breast. He licked his lips and continued. “I’d like to do the same thing right now.”

She squirmed on his lap and tried to break free, but he held her firmly in place. She sensed the predator/prey scenario and her breathing quickened. “I’ve…I have a lot to do before we’re ready to go. Was there something you wanted?” She sensed her mistaken choice of words as his eyes lingered way too long on the bodice of her thin robe.

“Yes,” he grinned. “But that will have to wait for a couple of hours.” Once again he nuzzled her neck and nipped at her chin with his teeth. “I was wondering if you’d join me in a prayer this morning.”

The change in subject was so abrupt that it threw her. Composing herself quickly, she nodded her head. “That would be wonderful, Marc. I’d be more than happy to join you in prayer this morning.”

“I have gained a great appreciation for the power of prayer in the last few months, Princess. My father has given me new insights into prayer. I always figured prayer was for closing and opening the day, praying for safety and for the blessing of restored health. But he helped me understand better the need for constant and specific prayer. I think we should pray for everything that comes into our lives that we have jurisdiction over. We’re entering a new phase of our lives and need the Lord’s help.” He’d never thought to pray with Lilly and that had been a big mistake. Well, he wasn’t making that mistake again. The Lord would be first and foremost in his and Cass’s life. “I want the Lord’s help in our marriage, Cass.”

“Yes. So do I.”

“I feel as the Priesthood holder that I’m entitled to inspiration regarding our home and family and with you as my wife, we’ll be a team and seek that inspiration together. You’re entitled to the inspiration you’ll need to be my companion and I ask for your faith in petitioning the Lord for the blessings we’ll need as a new family.”

She studied him for a moment as if she was looking at him for the first time. She had to laugh to herself again about her first impressions of him. It was anything but spiritual. He’d been both annoying and arrogant and she’d been put off all the while fiercely attracted to him. Then he’d been too ruggedly good looking for his own good and had swept her away with his depthless passion until she knew there was no one in the world that could fire her heart as he could. Now what she saw was the powerful force of the priesthood on him as he looked forward to becoming her husband and felt it a responsibility to ask for help. Her heart warmed and her spirit swelled.

“Will you kneel with me, Cass?” He loosened his grip on her and pushed her to her feet.

“I’d be honored, my love.”

He pushed her coffee table out away from the sofa and they knelt together between the table and the sofa. He took her hands in his, brought them to his lips for a quick kiss then he began to pray.

It wasn’t so much the words he spoke that touched her heart and soul, but the feeling of the prayer. He was taking his responsibilities of husband, father and priesthood holder very seriously and felt to plead with the Lord for a blessing on their union. He spoke to the Lord as opposed to just offering a standard prayer. He asked for guidance as they started their married life together. In closing, Marc pled with the Lord for a blessing on their sacred physical relationship as husband and wife and that they would be blessed with children to join them in their earthly journey. Cass felt her heart bursting at the seams with love for this man who’d humbled himself before the Lord enough that he felt comfortable in asking. She didn’t know if it were possible to love him more than she did at that moment.

When he finished praying he pulled Cass into his arms and for many quiet moments, he just held her tenderly within his embrace, resting his cheek against her head and stroking her hair. She rested her head on his shoulder and felt the power flow from him into her.“Before the Nauvoo temple was completed,” Marc started, “Joseph Smith performed the endowment ceremony in his home. Parley P. Pratt and his wife participated in this ceremony, which I understand took many hours.” Marc sat back down on the sofa and pulled Cass down beside him still clasping her hands tightly. She looked at him in amazement as he continued. “It was there that Parley learned from Joseph Smith, ‘that the wife of my bosom might be secured to me for time and all eternity;…the affections which endeared us to each other emanated from the fountain of divine eternal love.’” Marc paused, trying to remember the entire quote. “Ah, yes,…Parley said something like: ‘I had loved before, but I knew not why. But now I loved—with a pureness—an intensity of elevated, exalted feeling.’” Parley went on to say that he now loved with the spirit and understanding as well. I’m sure that meant an eternal understanding.” Marc turned toward Cass so he could look deeply into her eyes. “That’s how I feel about you, Cassiopeia. I love you with all the intensity of elevated, exalted feelings of eternity and with the spirit of the Lord. Do you understand?”

Cass’s heart rose in her throat as tears welled in her eyes. She’d never heard anything so beautiful. “Yes,” she choked, the tears escaping. “That was a tender, wonderful sentiment. I feel exactly as Parley did. I love you intensely Marc. I’ve never been able to explain how quickly and intensely I was drawn to you and how complete are my feelings. I’ll love you forever.”

He kissed away the tears from her cheeks and as soft as butterfly wings he swept her lips with his as if she was a delicate piece of china that would break if he pressed too hard. She sighed sweetly tugging his heart strings then he wrapped his arms around her to draw her to him. “Well I guess I should leave and let you get ready.”

“Hmm?”

He pushed her away from him and gazed in her eyes. “It won’t be long now, Ms. James. Are you excited?”

She licked her trembling lips and rubbed his arms with her nervous trembling hands. “Nope.”

“Liar,” he grinned and kissed her nose. “I love you Cassiopeia. I’ll love you forever.”

Copyright 2009 CAROL A. MALONE, (except images which were acquired from Google Images)

You've Got Cancer (Part 3)

You’ve got cancer - The surgery.

I don’t suppose there are many announcements of “You’ve got cancer” that don’t follow with another announcement that they must operate. Now if breaking the news to you that you’ve got cancer isn’t horrific and scary enough, now it’s followed it by the threat of having your body ripped open, your organs disturbed or removed and your health and your life permanently upended. But they—the powers that be—are adamant that surgery is the only correct course of action to follow.

Around the first of July of this year, I was faced with the real possibility of bleeding to death. I was so panicked that I didn’t mind the thought of having my first “procedure” done. But still the fear and trepidation was there in abundance. I’d had a C-Section twenty six years ago and could only remember the misery associated with the procedure and the long uncomfortable recovery. Facing something on that major a scale a second time was something I’d wanted to avoid with every fiber of my being. But my life was in danger. I was, for all intents and purposes, bleeding to death and the myriad of doctors I’d seen thus far didn’t have a complete picture as to why I was bleeding and how to stop it from happening.

On the second go round of severe blood loss, I found my self in the ER again. After receiving another two units I was released by my OB/GYN. But it didn’t take as long to bleed out as it did to pump it in when I returned home. In frantic desperation, I phoned the doctor on call. I finally found a woman OB/GYN that understood what I was going through and she demanded that I return to the ER and await preparations for a D&C, (that’s a dilation and curettage). This is basically procedure that dilates or enlarges the vagina so that the uterus lining can be scraped or suctioned away for a more thorough tissue sample for biopsy. They couldn’t do the D&C right away as I’d lost too much blood, so I had to wait over night while receiving more transfusions. By now I’m feeling like I’ve had a complete lube job. The next day, July 9th, my surgery was scheduled for four p.m.

So how do you prepare for surgery or in this case, a minor procedure? My way is to panic. It’s my nature, thanks to my mom, also to worry about every little thing, real or imagined. Thankfully, I had great friends and family members that prayed for me. I also had a number of Priesthood blessings, so this first operation seemed to flow smoothly. I didn’t even start to panic until they wheeled me downstairs in St. John’s Pleasant Valley Hospital here in Camarillo to the pre-op room. I still had Tim’s hand in a death grip and the atmosphere was relaxed and casual. There was no rush and urgency like the time I had my C-Section. (At that time I was basically dying and my baby Mike was dying, so they were in a bit of a rush!)

When Tim was asked to wait in the hall and I was wheeled into the operating room, that’s when the unease slithered up my spine. Luckily, I remained calm enough that when they asked me to move my behind onto the operating table I was able to joke about it and move quickly. They were impressed with my ability. I told them I was working out. But the icy chill of the room, the sights and smells and the freezing table brought those anxious memories of my C-Section flooding back into my mind. But before I could full out panic, I was in La-La Land. The next thing I know some nurse is asking me questions and they’re wheeling me back upstairs to my regular bed. I’m thinking—piece of cake!

I rested through the night—as much as one can rest with nurses coming in your room every two hours to check vitals and change blood transfusion bags can be restful. July 10th, (our 27th Wedding Anniversary), I went home. As I’m getting in my VUE, I noticed a vicious pain in the calf of my right leg which continued to get worse prompting more doctors’ visits, an ultra sound and the vein filter which I discussed in an earlier post. A blood clot!

As stated earlier, my biopsy showed uterine cancer and that was a shock in and of itself when followed quickly by the words “you must have a complete hysterectomy”. Due to unusual circumstances, I was directed to a surgeon at Cedars Sinai in Los Angeles, Dr. Ronald Leuchter, a Gynecological Oncologist specialist that teaches at UCLA. I thought, wow! Holy cow! A world renowned specialist is going to operate on me. Going to Cedars Sinai was like being on a cattle drive for medical treatment. I was shown to one area in the Cancer Care center then upstairs to fill out paper work. After filling out dozens of papers, we were then given an escort to take us back down to the first place we went to be met by a nurse. The nurse took me in a small room for vitals then back to the waiting room for another nurse to take me to the exam rooms. The doctor obviously doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with you, so it was right to the business at hand when he announces what he’s going to do to you.

He told me that he would do a laproscopically assisted hysterectomy. Four tiny holes would be drilled in my belly from which he can see what’s going on and extract the offending organs and tissue. At least that was the plan at the time.

So I’m sent home to worry and fret for two weeks and finish up my pre-op tests. And that’s pretty much what I did. Except at the time, I still had work to occupy my mind. My insurance company sent me a relaxation and visualization CD to assist in calming my mind and spirit before and after surgery. I’d like to say it helped, but that would be lying. There were times when I could go to a happy place, which happened to be my grandma’s farm in Paradise, Utah, but not always.

I had lots of blessings and prayers offered in my behalf. Tim and I left for the hospital the Sunday afternoon before and stayed at a lovely hotel in Beverly Hills. Only I couldn’t really enjoy the room because I had to fast and do other terrible unmentionable things in order to be ready to be cut open in the morning.

I was in the South Tower for the Operation and Recovery

The morning of the operation, I was up very early and got dressed in a minimum of stress. I was probably numb. We had to be at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. for a 7 a.m. surgery. There was also a line of procedure to follow as we arrived at check in. We were herded upstairs to a waiting room then filled out more paperwork where I received my i.d. bracelet. My spirits were still high as I watched the room fill with other people in similar circumstances, although awaiting different surgeries.

When my name was called along with several others, we were herded back through a door and our loved ones were not allowed to follow us. This is the first time that I thought I couldn’t make it. I thought for sure Tim would be able to stay with me until I went under anesthesia. But this was not the case.

I was lead to a hospital bed, told to dress in a simple hospital gown, given a bag for belongings and then told to relax. Yeah, right! Who are they kidding! You try to relax in that kind of situation. For the next little while I was stuck with lancets, poked with needles, strapped to machines to test my heart and asked interminable questions. Then to complicate matters, my heart specialist hadn’t forwarded the results of my chemical stress test to determine if my heart was up to such an operation. They had to wait until well after 8 a.m. before the heart doctor’s office opened up to get the results.

Finally the anesthesiologist came to assure me my heart was sound enough for the operation. I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping that my heart was in such bad shape I couldn’t endure the operation and would just be sent home to die quietly. A gal can hope, can’t she? Anyway that was when this really cute doctor who was much too young to be an anesthesiologist came and put something really nice in my i.v. and for the first time, I started to relax.

I remember being wheeled into the operating room which looked more like a storage room with supplies behind glass and metal cupboards. There were lights and gadgets and trays of something. The last thing I remember is being asked to move my butt over to the slick, cold operating table, then nothing. Total absence of consciousness. Oblivion. Because the next moment I’m awake and somebody is talking to me and I was asking for Tim. I remember little of the time in recovery. I guess maybe at the point I’m writing this, I didn’t want to remember it. Before long I’m being wheeled down the hall, way down the hall, almost to the end of the third floor hall to a group of four rooms at the end. This time it is an extremely painful proposition to move my butt from the table to my new bed. With a lot of help, I manage it. Then finally I’m allowed to see Tim.

I was in the hospital for six days. I already had problems with my right leg and the blood clot there. It was so swollen and painful; walking merely to the nurse’s station was a feat of monumental proportions. But the second day, I noticed my left leg swelling much the same and tried to bring that to the attention of the nurses and doctors. But no one paid much attention until on the third day when they tried to get me up to walk and I nearly passed out a few steps from my room. Then they finally paid attention to me. Then I was rushed down to the radiation room for an ultrasound on both legs. Yes, indeed. Blood clots in both legs. Now I was faced with a big dilemma. You must walk to recover from the surgery. I couldn’t walk because of the horrific swollen legs. What do you do?

There’s one very minute secret that doctors don’t explain to you after surgery and that’s the gas that results from surgery. Of all the pains of surgery, that was by far the most intense, miserable pain of all. Gas and bloating and not being able to pass it are by far the worst pains you can possibly endure. I’ve never felt such pain in my life all because I couldn’t, to put it bluntly, fart or have a bowel movement. That’s why my hospital stay was longer than usual. Until you pass gas, you don’t leave, even if you can’t walk. That’s not as important.

When I finally passed a little gas, it was like graduation day and the fourth of July all wrapped up. Yippee! The day after I did, I was allowed to leave the hospital. I have to tell you, my leaving the hospital was not how I’d planned it to happen. I was barely able to move without screaming. I felt like I’d been run over by a team of Clydesdale's, the beer wagon and the little Dalmatian dog as well. The car was most uncomfortable and extremely hard to get into. Luckily, at home we rented a hospital bed as our bedroom is upstairs and I never could have made it up the stairs. I couldn’t lift my foot off the ground more than a couple of inches. I felt miserable.

So for two plus months, I attempted to recuperate. But the leg clots have really held me back. At one point I measured my upper thigh while it was swollen. It measured 31 inches. That’s huge! I felt like a baby and was reduced to using a walker to move around the house and a wheel chair if I went out to the doctor’s office. Short trips anywhere, including the grocery stores was out of the question. So many friends came by to wish me well and brought food and flowers. I will always be grateful for their thoughtfulness and concern.

It has been a long, trying road of recovery. At first I could barely move out of my hospital bed and going to the downstairs bathroom was the furtherest I could waddle. I couldn’t even manage more than a bedside bath. I gradually graduated to a sink bath with Tim washing my hair. Even that was a major accomplishment. The next step was me washing my own hair and being able to stand for a significant amount of time without passing out. Six weeks after my surgery, I attempted the stairs and found with a lot of pushing and pulling I could make it to the top. I still had to sit down for a shower and had to rest for a while before attempting to go back down the stairs.

Along the path I developed a rather ugly little growth near my surgery scar. At first I thought my scar had broken open, but that wasn’t the case. My doctor thought it was a seroma, which is a collection of fluid within a dead space in the tissue following a surgery. I had an ultrasound because of the swelling and fever then I was sent to a dermatologist. Neither proved useful, except the dermatologist decided I needed to go back to see my surgeon. But his schedule wouldn’t permit a quick visit. So I was directed to a surgeon in Ventura and he knew right away that the growth was a post-surgical tunnel wound—a deep tunnel seeping fluid and blood from somewhere deep inside my body that hadn’t healed properly. Yikes!!! He stuck one of those long Q-tips down in it and had Tim holding on to his stomach. It went down in about 7.5 centimeters. It was very distressing. Hadn’t I had enough problems resulting from one surgery?

So now I have daily visits from in-home nurses who pack the deep tunnel wound with gaze in an attempt to dry it out and shrink the thing. It’s a miserable process and one that has taken a month and a half already. I don’t know how much longer this process may take. The surgeon here, Dr. Timothy Bryant, thinks I still may need another surgery to repair the wound. Does the nightmare never end?

I went through physical therapy here at home and grew stronger. I was even out on the street walking with a cane. So I am progressing. But I still have to wait and see and keep enduring the daily visits and wound packing and wear those awful compression stockings that squeeze your legs tight. I don't even know if I'll be able to wear normal shoes ever again. I don’t have much hope of that at present.

I was standing at my kitchen window the other day and looking out in the backyard. It was a glorious day in Camarillo. (Most of them are.) And I was wondering how far I’d come. Sometimes the Lord lets the image of tragedy and bad things fade, for which I am very grateful. That’s why it was good to sit down and write about the experiences of my surgeries so I can recall what I went through. MY body may never be the same as before my surgery. That’s life, right? But it was an experience that taught me a great deal and maybe I’ll be able to help someone else facing the same situation.