Choice

I've heard life is about seasons. Chapters in a book. We cannot live in all the seasons and all the chapters at once. We cannot skip a seasons or a chapters. Nor can we choose what qualities come with each. For example I cannot experience the beauty, quiet, and stillness of newly falling snow and simultaneously bathe in warm summer sun. We must live through and in all as given. Frustration is the fruit of accepting only part of what is. The joy of arriving at a destination does not come from simply arriving- but the story in between. The Lord of the Rings isn't an epic tale because Frodo dropped the ring in the molten mountain. It is an epic tale because of what it took to get there. Confusion, doubt, fear, danger, pain, suffering, evil paired with courage, faith, friendship, sacrifice, hope, and reaching true potential.
It is the pairing that is powerful and true. Pretending there is only positive or negative during any season is damaging. Accepting that there is nearly always a varied mixed of the two is powerful. Because then you have a choice. I want to actively choose my focus to be on the positive and allow the negative to be as it must with neutrality and acceptance.

I Heart Adrenals

It is now 9 days since I left the Twilight Zone. Everyday I find I am further away than the day before. And it is all because of the adrenal support supplements my physician started me on. It is like someone flipped the switch to reestablish main power and turned off the inconsistent noisy stream of dim light produced by a generator. I am hoping to put the generator back into storage and not have to use it again to get through any more of my life. Main line power versus the power of a generator- big difference. On the second or third day of adrenal support I was talking to my husband on the phone and I asked- I'm I talking faster? Because I feel like I am talking faster. I know I am thinking faster. I was amazed at how easy it was to form words and spit them out in rapid fire. Also of major note-I have stopped leaning heavily into the bannister anytime I walk up and down the stairs. I am not overwhelmed by a task that is across the room. I have now had 3 days (not in a row) that I have not had to lie down in the middle for pure survival sake. Dinner has been cooked and ready for my husband when he got home from work 2 whole times. When I wake up in the morning I wonder, what new discovery I will have about how I feel today? I do not yet posses the energy to take out my running shoes but I am planning an easy flow yoga class tomorrow.

Also contained in this excitement is an element of fear. I suppose it is the natural reaction to change- even when it is good change. I am afraid it won't last. I am afraid I don't know where the line is between enough energy and doing too much. There are moments I am afraid to feel good. Perhaps a little like the caged animal arriving at the wild life preservation. Sometimes it takes some coaching for the animal to leave the cage and explore freely the landscape in front of them. 

 On Tuesday I had my weekly visit with my physician. Yes- weekly. In this visit I was excited to share the improvements over the week. And he confirmed the fact that yes, I am talking much faster. He cautioned me that in order to stay feeling better I have to treat my adrenals with love. Those might not be his exact words- but that was the take home message. And he said, if I don't, then I can wind up right back in the Twilight Zone on generator power (again, not his exact words). Not that he wanted to put fear into my heart, but it was an effective heavy handed dose of caution.

Adrenals are taxed when stress is placed upon them.  Stress can some from external sources. We know all about those- life change, difficult job, family crisis. But- however there is a large part of the stress that is internal. How well the body functions on the inside can be the biggest source of stress of all. It is the internal stress an individual has the greatest amount of control over. Helping the body work together in harmony and addressing any breakdowns immediately is key. This takes listening to your body. Interestingly enough, the biggest control I can have over my disease involves food. I am discovering how seriously reactive my hypoglycemia is and how I need to be forever vigilant in maintaining my blood glucose. This means a snack every 2 hours in between meals. Practically a full time job. And of of course what you put in your mouth is the most important of all.

It was in the last appointment that the full gravity of my future full time life of change hit me. There were a couple of key elements of food I was sure I was going to be able to reincorporate into my diet giving me a small degree of flexibility. Unfortunately, I was informed to not hold my breath on those foods. The odds are against it. All I have to say is vegans, gluten freeans, vegetarians, all of you got nothing on this. I am one upping you all and taking all the glory possible. I need some form of strength. Most likely I will have a gluten free, cow and goat dairy free, egg free, soy free, iodized salt free, almond free, tomato free, pineapple free, and only occasional sugar. This is the preliminary list. I am in the long process of testing each individual food. I still don't know about corn, potato, coca, coconut, honey, etc, etc, etc. Perhaps you say this list is so very short. But these are the building blocks to most everything. Nothing like a little motivation to do your own cooking and keep it all real foods. Tasting the beginning of health and life this week is reinforcing to stay true to the path but it is going to take some work before it doesn't smart any more. 

It is so amazing how attached to food we humans are. Sure I could go on trying live an "easier life" and eat what ever I want. But I know too well from experience that is NOT in fact the easier life. I can either sacrifice my health or sacrifice my food. Yet the pull and temptations of the food is surprising strong. Especially as I sit and watch everyone eat cake and ice cream at birthday parties. Or sit at the round table in the church gym watching everyone eat the croissant chicken salad sandwiches for the Relief Society Meeting. 

In this way I think it is like the gospel of Jesus Christ. Becoming a disciple and living the life of Christ as a Latter-Day Saint requires sacrifice. Many people see these things such as living a chaste life, not drinking coffee or alcohol to be too hard. But the beautiful full life that comes from this path of righteousness and commitment to God is full of peace, joy, love and greater health. It may not be "easy" but to me it is more of the life I want to live. 

If I could be a 34 year old virgin before I married and still not ever had a cup of coffee, alcohol, tried illicit drugs or any thing else-  Then I've got this in the bag, right?

In summary- Love your Adrenals. They may be small little organs but the best things come in small packages. I choose to live a healthy happy life. May I lose the desire for all things that do not serve me and may all my approved food become sweet to me. I love finally feeling like I am on the road to recovery rather than hoping.

Hashimoto's

1358. The number of antibodies in a quantified portion of blood hurling themselves at my thyroid. Heavy weight when contrasted to the normal range of 0-3.9. I still remember the sound of the medical assistance's voice over the phone when she read me the lab results. Incredulous- that is how I would describe it. Followed by- this confirms the doctor's theory after your ultrasound. You definitely have Hashimoto's. December 2013.
Good news- its not cancer. You are not your mother. Bad news- as far as the endocrinologist is concerned there is nothing "really" wrong with you. Just increase your thyroid dose a little to make up the loss of function and you are spic and span good as new.
But he is wrong. So very, very wrong.
Holding on for a few weeks till the new dose kicks in- just hold on and things will turn around like magic.
I am wrong. So very, very wrong.

January 2014
I broke down in the middle of January when I realized the new dose of medication was not magic and patience not my friend. When I looked at myself I found my life lost to shadows. Fatigue, pain, poor memory, little concentration, and a whirl of things I stopped being able to comprehend as the brain slowed to a horrible near motionless state. Even with less work to accomplish and fewer responsibilities I found the few balls I juggled falling down all around me. I no longer recognized myself. Guilt overwhelming as I failed to accomplish the tasks of everyday living.

Red River Health and Wellness Clinic
Functional Medicine. Endocrinology Specialists. Chiropractors. Chiropractors? One must understand that as a physical therapist we are taught a healthy dose of apprehension and distaste toward chiropractors. Now I am turning to one for the answers and help I can't find anywhere else. Hard to swallow.  If I was to make a list of miracles along this journey of health loss and "recovery" it would be long. But I must say finding someone that had answers and a course of treatment to help rebuild my life is one of those miracles- chiropractor and all.
Blood tests, saliva test = Poor liver function, hypoglycemia, extreme adrenal fatigue, food intolerances. All adding up to increased inflammation fueling the autoimmune disease and each selectively stealing it's own piece of my life. 6 months he says. 6 months and a lot of changes. End of January 2014

March 10, 2014
In the Middle.
Activity restriction 30min of walking 3x a week until the adrenals are recovered. I haven't had any form of sugar other than fruit in 5 weeks. I may never be able to eat any form of dairy, eggs (in any form including baking), iodized salt, almonds, or pineapple again. My greatest achievement is adding back in brown rice to my diet after a month with no carbohydrates.
And the journey is slow and long.
A personal roller coaster of rise and falls. Hormone changes= tears. I ended up crying in my car in the parking lot of Costco today for really no reason at all. Just a flood of sadness and emotion overwhelming me. My husband is unreachable. Fortunately my brother answers and talks me home. Perhaps this is a prequel to the hope of pregnancy once I am recovered. Failed food adding attempts leaving me flat on the couch for 2 days. Now insomnia. 2am currently and I am quite alert. But I am alert and clear minded. How I have missed my beautiful brain! Headaches are mostly gone, menstrual cycle normalized, heart palpitations stopped, no more brain fog. Obviously improvements. Curtis saw the vacuum out when he came home from work last week and got really excited. Look- you're feeling better. I was sorry to inform him I got the vacuum out but then lost the energy and never actually used it. Yet his optimism was not to be deterred. The very fact I felt like attempting housework was a great sign to him. One day I asked him how he can be so positive all the time. Isn't he tired of my complaints. Then he said the most magical words ever. "I guess someone just made my glass half full when I met you."
I never know what a day will bring. Every once in awhile I get a glimmer and taste of being Heather again. It is encouraging and discouraging all at the same time. I think when I feel a bit better I am capable of understanding how bad things have been and are.
One thing is for sure. My life will never be the same.
Another thing for sure. Being in the Middle is a rough place to be.
Last thing for sure. Being in the Middle is much better than still being lost and hopeless.

I don't know how I would survive this without my husband's support and unconditional love. Without a single word of complaint he has picked up a large portion of the cooking, laundry, dishes, and any additional needs while I watch. He has held me through tears, frustration, anxiety, and pain. Perhaps not quite the woman he married almost a year ago- but I'm fighting to become better and more healthy than her. Most likely I've had this autoimmune disease for 20 years undiagnosed until I finally crashed into pieces this year. It explains so many difficult parts of my life. The goal- learn what I need, control the disease and feel better than I can ever remember. And fall asleep tonight!

Tokyo Japan

Good morning! 6:48am Sunday morning and I feel like I had a luxurious morning sleeping in- the only benefit to jet lag.  I am sitting on the couch in the "cozy" apt we rented for the week in the heart of Shibuya.  With the mass of humanity that crowds the intersections and shopping centers just under our feet it is surprising how complete this tiny oasis is.  My husband is sitting on the bed reading the latest tech news on his phone and the blinds are attempting to control the otherwise blinding sun from streaming in.   Thank goodness for the air conditioner with special dehumidifier option. 

This is our third day in the country.  The first two have been wonderful, filled with Japanese temples, gardens, an attempt into the ground of the Imperial Palace (apparently there aren't tours on Fridays), incredible food, the crazy fish market, a boat ride into Tokyo, shopping, people watching, sore feet, blisters, and feeling the effects of sun and water.  Curtis makes good use of the washcloth he carries with him and I am reminded that I can sweat without exercise.

I often find myself staring in amazement at the man I married.  First that I'm married and that I married so well.  I love how easily we seem to work together in all the scenerios we have encountered so far.  I enjoy watching him in "his city".   Then there is the veiled surprise I note when he speaks to people in excellent Japanese- being 6'3 and all white man it isn't expected. 

I grew up being taught that Sundays are special days.  Today is a most special Sunday.  I am in Japan to meet my step-son and watch my husband in his few precious days a year be a dad.  This starts today.  Anticipation, excitement, and of course nervousness.  I am grateful for the exhaustion of jet lag that brought sleep last night.  Of all the wonders of Japan there is only one that truly matters. Naoki.

Praying for a joyful reunion.
H

4:30am

Funny how simple and easy the words seemed to appear in my head as I lay staring sleeplessly into the blackness of my room.  I've been awake since 3:45am.  Not quite sure why I awoke with no return into the blissful state of sleep- or at least not sure I am willing to confess or face the potential reasons.  The following is not the primary source of awakefulness but at least a part I am willing to look at.  But now faced with delivering some of my thoughts into a concrete form on the computer, the flow becomes a dam and I wonder just what it was I thought was so important to write.  Honestly- it isn't about the importance of the words- it is about an outlet for my thoughts and a hope for an hour more of sleep when I'm done by freeing a few of them.  Not as if anyone else but I has paid attention ,but my last post was in Feb.  In case you're not interested in doing the math that is -give or take -4 months.  Long time for me.  As I found myself pondering the need to record my trip to Turkey and the disconnect between that thought and any action about it I realized perhaps there is something more I am not willing to face.  I simply have not had the heart to return to my computer and write.  Yes, I am busy- but I am always busy.  One of the questions I faced this early morning was a why- why don't I have the heart to write.  And it isn't just my blog I'm not writing in- I'm not writing in any of my obscure notebooks I have hidden away.  I simply stopped writing. 
(One of the questions I ask myself as I write on a blog- free to the entire world to hear some thoughts in my head is- just how vulnerable and open do I want to be?  What is appropriate?  Will any words I write come back to harm myself or others with unforseeable consequences?  Argueable the debate on either side- I still worry- as I am currently about my thoughts.  What I write is a small snapshot of myself, not a large sampling and I hope it isn't perceived as such.)
My last blog I wrote- coincedentially, seems to be a large piece of the puzzle- why I'm not writing.  Grief and copeing mainifest themselves in different ways.  The particular exit of my good friend was a painful loss this year.  Many assumptions are easily made about the nature of this friendship and loss especially due to my absent details and veiled language- and I submit most assumptions are likely wrong.  (I do not want to dishonor him or the past.)  But tonight I realized that perhaps my avoidance of my writing is an avoidance of completing my healing process.  I have had a few prominent supporters of my writing- but his was of  particular importance to me- and to him I shared more of my words than anyone else.  His encouragement and positive feedback throughout the years I knew him pushed me past the barriers of prior self-opinions and enabled me to see/believe in myself and in my words in ways I never had before.  I will always honor him for this and other reasons.  Now it is 5:30am and the Wasatch mountains are tinged with light and the birds are beginning to inform the world that a new day is beginning.  Any hope of more sleep is fading by the steady march of the sun's path.  Time to get to the point.  I was not conscientiously avoiding writing because of my loss- All I knew is I did not have the heart- did not have the desire to formulate my words.  I am writing now to accept the source of my heartlessness-  largely to avoid rememberance, pain and loss.  By looking at it squarely in the eyes, understanding it, and letting it go a new freedom is just on the other side.  Looking back at these words today- there is no pain with them.  But there is joy.  Perhaps with the dawn this morning, I gained back a part of me.

A Quest

The older I become the more fascinated I become by the ebbs and flows of our lives.  The choreography of entrances and exits are particularly poignant and surprising.  Sometimes there is great forshadowing leaving the observers, the dancers, the actors, or any involved with great understanding- when other times, a key character seemes to simply vanish or, becomes violently ripped from the masterpiece.  No one likes their favorite characters taken away.  As I watch the stage in hopeful anticipation for the return of a loved character I realize that perhaps their last exit was just that- the last.


I heard once that it is a mercy of God that we do not know the future.  As much as I try to divinate the future at times, I truly honor this saying.  There are a great many moments of my life where I know I could not have handled the anticipation for the experience.  The simple fear of that event would have caused a change in course.  There are many moments I was able to endure simply because I did not know how many pages that scene would last.  Hoping the end must be around the next corner.  And if I knew the future and avoided the cruxes of life where would I be?  How much joy would I sacrifice to avoid the pain?  How much strength and character would I lose? 
 
Human fraility is a particular source of challenge and suffering which has been a frequent source of my thoughts of late. Most poignantly my own and then secondly others. I realize no one is perfect and we are all learning.  I am left thinking how much compassion and forgiveness we need to have for each other as humans. Even at our best we are still so full of flaws that love for our fellowmen is essential to fill in the gaps- otherwise there is no hope for anyone. Where my human frailites and anothers collide can be a disaster- and perhaps some disasters are beyond the repair of love- but at least forgiveness and understanding, that we are all subject to our imperfections, can soften the heart. And most importantly-applying these thoughts to myself not just toward others. 

But knowing that does not make it any less excrutiating to watch my faults and weakness unfold with consequential results.  And to allow those mistakes to remain in the past and not dig them up and relive them seems a monumental task.  An extreme paraphrase from a Joe Goode concert- "I wish I had no memory. Then I would be free to experience each moment new- each meal, each place, each person.  But instead these moments are mixed with memories so I am no longer in the present but caught somewhere in between the past and present."  How eye opening for me to hear this.  How guilty am I of attaching my past onto my present!  A great weakness of mine is not being able to let go.  Why do I hold on- only to impede the present by attempting to hold to the past- past people, past mistakes, past joys, past pains...  Maybe if I let go I think it will be as if it never existed and I want the validity of its existance. Or I am afraid I will forget the lessons of the past-or I have yet to atone enough for the mistakes.  Or- I'm not sure...  But I do know- I love the idea of coming to a moment without the attachment of the past and just being able to experience it.  This must be part of the joy of being a child.  Accomplishing this will require accepting my weaknesses and forgiving myself enough to let the past live in the moment of its creation and not try to carry it with me.  And accepting carrying the joys of the past into the future does not protect them- it actually taints them.   Respecting the past in its rightful place and not being afraid of living and experiencing the present-This is a quest.

What About My Story?

Radio West was playing in my car on the way home tonight.  My secret crush Doug Fabrizio was interviewing the author Elna Baker- title of her book "The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance".  It was a conversation I felt conflicted listening to.  Do I really want to hear the story of an ex-Mormon and her soul searching journey that lead her away from the faith I embrace as truth?  I honor her honesty and her respect for the faith which to this point she still has reverence for.  I believe her journey was difficult and the telling of it also difficult and poignant.  But I was left frustrated and at moments indignant.  Call me narcissistic- but I couldn't help wondering, What about my story? Would anyone care to hear the story of a 33yr old virgin who continues choosing to live the life of sacrifice for her faith?  Or would I be immediately labeled as a passionless, repressed, brainwashed, or a "special" soul that has never opened my mind to other possibilities or just isn't insightful or smart or brave enough to step out of her sheltered world?  Or immediately assumed to be unattractive, backwards, or socially awkward? If I were to write my story of my choice to be an educated, well rounded, traveled, open minded, successful, intelligent, and attractive single Mormon who has never had a drink, coffee, sex, worn a bikini or any of the other unattractive commitments of an active LDS member would the world care to read it? Would Doug Fabrizio want to interview me on the radio?  And truthfully it isn't about "me"- it is about a world that celebrates people who brake free the chains that bind them and stereotype and even belittle the difficult choice to remain true to a faith of discipline.  It is not easy to be chaste at 33.  It is not easy to be chaste at any age.  But does anyone care?

Are you Casanova Impaired?

To all the Casanova impaired men in the world- this is for you.

The key to a women's heart is Respect and Thoughtfulness- add a dose of sincerity and we are in trouble.  If self is all your used to thinking about and helping, then you are doomed to frustration when it comes to women.

The end.

Alas

I give up- it is only Novemeber and I am already in trouble with the cold frigid nights.  I was walking Jasper- my brothers dog I am dog sitting- and my hands started to sting with cold and move like they belonged on the short bus. Currently I am running around the house with a blanket tied around my waist and I wish it extended to wrap around my feet.  I need more long smart wool socks.  Anyone out there wanting to buy that for me for Christmas? I made up my mind.  If I am going to survive winter I need to let go of the white knuckle grip I have on the pocket book and give in to 67 degrees on the thermostat.  It's true- I am leaving 65 degrees behind and going for a life of luxury- or at least sanity. Thank goodness for the new windows!  And I am thinking I need to put on the kettle and have a cup of something hot.

This is My House

There are two questions I can count on being asked when I run into old friends/acquaintances I haven’t seen in a long time. “So, any boys I should know about?” and “Where do you live now?” Can you guess which question I dreaded answering? One might think it is the dating question, but no, it was the where do you live question. Surprised? In the 12+ years of the dating question, I have managed to come to terms with it, but having to tell people I live in the same house after 6 ½ years, renting… That was painful. You see I was only going to live in that house for one year. One year soon turned into two, two into five, and, and, and… I felt like nothing, nothing changed or progressed in my life. I was over 30 living Ground Hog’s Day, except I was getting older and the rest of the world moved on leaving me farther and farther behind. Every time I answered the question of where I lived it was a great reminder how I felt like I was getting no where in my life- and there was the proof.

But on July 28, 2011 things finally changed. I few pieces of paper to sign and I became a home owner- and nothing will be the same again.

I talked about buying a house for a long time but was extremely non-committal and honestly- not ready. Buying a home is a big step- end of story. And, buying a house as a single female poses a few interesting challenges. It is surprising the emotional ties connected to buying a home alone and the challenge to overcome- an actual grieving process many women find themselves going through as we come to terms with forging ahead independently. And for me it also meant committing to staying in Utah.

So I did what any religiously based person would do, I started to pray. I asked what should I do? Is buying a house the right decision for me? And then I waited. That wasn’t working so I prayed some more. A few months pass and I am still praying about it. You see I once had a friend talk about her experience in buying a house. She said it is a really big decision and should come with a really big feeling of this is right. I was looking for a clear yes- this is the right thing for you. But I wasn’t getting anything. Finally I got my answer, “you have good judgement and freedom to use that judgement- this is your decision - you decide.” No wonder I was praying for months with no answer- it was my choice. I decided I was going for it.

There is a quote I keep on my blog that always stood out as true to me although I had never specifically noted it in my life- that is until now.

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness concerning all acts of initiative and creation. There is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now." Goethe


The story of my house is this quote fulfilled in my life.

Over the last year + I had 3 or so realtors I had “tried on”. But no one was working out for me. They send me their automatic lists of properties and show me a place if I asked for it. That is until Spencer came along.

Spencer Williams was referred to me by my roommate Anya- he is really good with first time home buyers she said. Ok, lets give him a try. Our first meeting was at his office where we looked at a lot of houses on the computer and made a list of some I was interested in looking at. Mostly he was trying to get an idea of what I was looking for. That was a Saturday. On Monday we went looking at the houses- and it was a typical bust. Granted some were closer than I had seen but I just felt wrong in all of them. We arranged to get together on Tuesday of the following week, my first day off after the upcoming work week. He said he had gotten an idea of what I was looking for and was going to research properties for me and come up with a list to see. Miracle! someone willing to do some leg work for me.

My grandmother Rachel passed away that week bringing my parents into town and all thoughts of house hunting out the window. Fortunately Spencer texted to remind me of our meeting and gave me the address of the first house. I meet up with him and he had already been in the house and said- forget it not even worth your time and I followed him to the next house. 982 E Montclair Dr. I still remember my thoughts as I first entered the house- this house is in my budget? I can afford this? You must realize the kind of houses I had been looking at and how discouraged I was. This house was open, with a large kitchen, most of the house updated, 4 bedrooms, a tall basement that you don’t have to duck to walk in, a garage, a nice yard, and the big picture window in the front room. The house was filled with light from all the multitude of windows. I felt I could be at home here. This was a house- the only house I had seen, I felt I could live in. it had everything on my little list that was half on paper and half in my heart. Some things don’t come with words. We went and saw the other houses on the list and nothing compared, I felt awkward and uncomfortable in them all.

I asked if I could see the house again in the morning with my parents before they left to leave town back to California. So at 8:30 am the next day I showed my parents the house to see what they thought. My mom loved the windows like I did. My dad had nothing but nick picky comments on the house. As we walked away my mom asked when I was going to put an offer in. I was somewhat surprised at this comment but I already knew in my heart this was the one. The comfort of knowing my parents had seen and approved of the house before I put an offer in was invaluable. This was the most difficult decision I can remember making and having them just barely able to see it was a miracle.

In fact many of the miracles of this house was the timing of everything. My timeline was I needed to be moved out of my old house before Oct 1st so I wouldn’t be locked into a contract. I was leaving for Jordan Sept 23rd for 2 weeks so I needed to be moved in before then and preferably much before then to be settled. It was June 29th when I first saw the house- and as we know just in time for my parents to see it.

Wednesday. I met with my loan officer for the first time- Holly Stirling. I decided to become pre- approved for a loan to help the offer process go over more smoothly. The whole time I still can’t get this house out of my mind and I am really starting to get nervous. What if I have actually found it? Yikes.

Thursday. I met with Spencer to put together my offer- in case I do in fact decide to send it in. Poor Spencer- I nearly had a heart attack when he started writing an email to their realtor with my offer specifics. He had to stop what he was doing- point out there was no subject line and it is a draft for when I am ready. Then he had to talk me though all the reasons why everything was going to be ok. He learned pretty quick that I need time to process everything.

Friday. I can’t get putting an offer on the house, TODAY, out of my mind. My plan was to fast on fast Sunday to be sure and put the offer in on Monday. The house had been on the market since October-what was the rush. But it kept coming back to me over and over. Until I called Spencer on my way out of town to Southern Utah for a vacation and asked if he thought I should just put the offer in today. So next thing I know I am telling him to put the offer in right now. I thought I was going to freak out after I did that- especially how much I had been stressing over everything. No sleep since I first saw the house. Any dozing I did do was interrupted with panics such as- there is no vent system over the range… But I had the opposite reaction. I felt wonderful. I was happier than I can remember- cloud 9. I felt a huge burden lift I didn’t know I was carrying and saw doors opening in all directions previously closed. Talk about a confirmation on a decision! Interesting I didn’t feel that way until after I made the decision and moved forward. I talked with a friend Andreas about how I felt as I drove down South. I was excited.

Friday pm. Spencer texts me- 2 other offers had been made on the house in the last 24 hours, I will tell you more when I know more. AHHH! What? Ok, now what? I get to Cedar City and meet up with Anya and her family and am having a hard time concentrating on things. Richard the III was a little hard to follow while trying to sort through the mess I had just walked into. Andreas texted me the most perfect words- Have faith, you will get the house. You had that good feeling for a reason. However hard for me to believe- it was comforting and hopeful. I referred back to his words frequently. And I realized, if I had waited until Monday to put the offer in, the house would have been gone.

Saturday. I learned I had until Sunday noon to change my offer if I so chose to my best. The owners didn’t want a bidding war- just a one time best offer. I spent the day half shopping with Anya at the outlets and half pondering over and over if and what to change my offer to. Once again, Andreas was an invaluable resource helping me ponder through and sort through things. Helping me discover the questions I needed answered to make good choices and be confident in what I was doing. In the end however, it was all up to me. What did I think- what was the house worth to me, what can I afford, what is strategic against the other bidders knowing nothing of their offers? I started to get a cold sore from the stress. That night I gave Spencer my new offer and once again- sleep was not found.

Sunday- 1am ish. I spent a while on my knees petitioning heaven. I really didn’t feel I knew what I was doing. Fast Sunday. I said I was putting the structural integrity of the house in Grandpa McOmber’s hand and the negotiations in Grandpa Peterman’s hands. They were the best ones I could think of for their jobs. After that a few hours of sleep were found and I trusted in whom I left the work to.

Monday. Anya and I got up early and hiked Angel’s Landing in Zion. We drove back to Orem to celebrate the 4th with Anya’s family. Soon after we arrived at her parent’s house, I received a text to call Spencer when I could. I was scared to call. I almost wanted him to say I lost the bid so it would be all over and I could move on and be done with the stress. But instead he said… “You are second, but they like your financial situation better so are offering you the opportunity to raise your offer 2K to match the highest bid and go with you.” True to form I told him I needed to think it over and I would call him back. I didn’t initially know what to do. I had already spent the last 24hrs thinking that I over bid myself and was stressed the current bid was too high already. 2K more? So I told Anya and her brother-in-law was there. He said they had a similar situation but they refused to up their price and they were still chosen. It is just a matter of how important financial security is to them. Immediately I felt calm and knew my answer. I called Spencer back and said- “My offer stands. They asked for my best and I gave it- there is no more. They have to decide what is more important to them.” That was the best I felt since I first heard there were other offers. And it felt really good to know I made the right move.

Tuesday. Getting out of my car at work I got another text from Spencer to call him. I always got nervous when this happened. I won. They ended up choosing me. He congratulated me on calling their bluff and I was speechless. I didn’t know how to react. I was happy but overwhelmed by the responsibility I now had on my shoulders. I think it was a really good thing Andreas had reinforced to me there are opportunities to turn around all along the way so I knew I had a out if needed.

July 5-28 There was nothing but bumps and bruises all along the way. It is a lot of work to get everything needed for a mortgage. I learned about electrical problems that needed to be addressed by the inspector- but I also learned the house was structurally in as good of shape as possible. (thanks Grandpa Mac) Then the appraiser came and valued it 15K under my price- meaning the banks would not finance it. This is 2 weeks or less before we are supposed to close. In the end- they were able to get the appraiser to come up 10 K and they agreed to fix the electrical. They also wanted me to pay closing costs since this is under the previous offer for the house. I said no- and they had to agree. (It is great being in a buyers market). All of this made more stressful because their realtor was out of town for a week making things back up to the last minute.

July 29th I closed on my house at - interestingly enough- the price of my first original offer. (thank you Grandpa Peterman) My mom was in town and able to be there to support me in signing my life over to the bank.

Aug 1st I received the keys to my house and brought over my first few things- a giraffe, toilet paper and my Costa Rica bowl to christen it.
I had the whole month of August to move in. My dad made a return trip and was able to help move the things I was getting from Grandma. I had family and Chris help me move into my house. I remember sitting in the chair in the front room not wanting to go back and be in the downtown house. I knew that was not my home- 982 Montclair was my home. It felt so good and right to be there. And so it continues today. I am still loving my home. It was the most stressful thing I have done but truly rewarding in everyway. I have roses I cut from my yard sitting on my kitchen table right now- I love it.

I am truly grateful for the many miracles that enabled this to happen. The timing was perfect- even with the gentle mercies of my parents being able to be here at just the right times. A great thank you to Anya for putting up with me in my processing of the whole event and her willingness to stay here and be my roommate. Thank you to Andreas who had the right words at the right time. Thank you to Chris for helping me with the big move. My brother Tim and Dad for helping with moving. Mom, Anginette, Andrea and the kids for helping clean the house as I moved in. And of course thank you to the heavens that opened and God providing the miracles to lead me to the ultimate success of being a home owner. This is the right place for me right now- and that is joy.

Andreas was right, I did have that amazing feeling for a reason.  And I was grateful for it because I may not have endured through it all without it.  And, Goethe was right- once one is committed- then the heaven open to prepare the way.

Training at Al-Hussien Society- Amman

Play day ended and the work of the trip immediately began.  Al Hussein Society was our work destination for the next 4 days.  It is a rehab society focus on pediatrics.  I was truly impressed with their vision, goals, and programs.  One half of the building was for the therapy work and the other half of the building was their school for children with needs.  They had their own wheelchair shop and technicians for modifying chairs to the specialized needs of the children.  A almost ideal partner to participate in the program LDS charities created to distribute wheelchairs. 
This first day was dedicated to setting up our training room, meeting with the translators and having some definitions translated.  Basically the behind the scenes day always necessary.  I was very impressed with how prepared and thoughtful the humanitarian couples were in having everything we could possibly want ready and waiting for us.  But I was once again a bit disappointed in our lunch options.  I don't eat American fast food in America and I really wanted to try Jordanian food...  But Popeye's it was. 

At the end of this day Clay had a great idea. He saw an indoor climbing gym in Amman and suggested we take a break from the couples and work out some of our jet lag on the wall. We offered to take a taxi but Brother Lee was insistent he be our chauffeur. Eventually we realized he was just as anxious to be away from others and choose different meal options as we were. We had a great time- it was a beautiful gym facing west toward the sunset. And the owner wasn't so bad to look at either... =) He gave us great dinner options and even gave me his phone number in case we needed anything. Man I wish I had a picture of him. But I do have a picture of his gym.  If Clay and I get to have a follow-up trip I do think we might need to visit here again.  Just look at that sunset!

Perhaps not the best picture of Clay... But is was the only picture I had of the climbing wall.

I swear he didn't even twitch for an hour.  I think if he isn't moving then he is sleeping.  But we loved Brother Lee's willingness to serve.

Falafel- at the recommendation of the good-looking Jordanian gym owner...  It was amazing!

And the ice cream shop next door- that was perhaps the best ice cream I ever had.  It is amazing what a little freedom, exercise and good food can do for the soul.  I was ready for whatever the next day had to bring.  I was nervous I hadn't prepared well enough-but that is my typical fears.  Everything went really well over the course of the next 3 days of training.  I will credit most of that to the answering of a sincere prayer for higher help.

The next morning started with a sunrise view of the city...  There are a lot of people in Amman.  Everything is built out of stone because there is little to no timber to use.

Clay taught me the key to success is to connect immediately with your audience.  Even before the official training began we talked to the class participants and got to know them a little.

This is the opening ceremony where the officials discuss the importance of the training- I liked the picture because it was a good visual of the classroom.  We wanted all the participants in wheelchairs so they had experience in them- especially with ones that do not fit well.  In the beginning it was difficult to get everyone in a wheelchair- but by the end, we couldn't get them out of them.

There were so many pictures to choose from on our training.  Most importantly with the lecture there was a lot of hands on.  Practice assessing each other, assembly of the wheelchairs right out of the box, and practice in using the wheelchairs themselves. And of course the most important is their assessing and fitting real wheelchair users that are in need of a wheelchair.  Unfortunately blogger is complaining about all the pictures I am wanting to add.  Maybe I can add some more later- but this gives you a feel for the training.

The women in this picture that I am talking to is the Princess of Jordan.  She is a classy lady and cut through all the political hub bub and focused right on what was important.  Easy to talk to and very engaging.  I must admit, I was impressed by her. 

The whole gang- my new friends in Amman Jordan

We were shepherded immediately to Irbid after the 3rd day of training and had to leave our 5 star hotel, gourmet breakfasts and new friends behind.  A whole new chapter began.

Day 1- Petra and the Dead Sea

Around Feb or March of this year my co-worker Andy started telling me about a Humanitarian project he started working with through the church.  (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints)  Wheelchair trainings to create a self sustainable local force to safely and correctly fit and educate wheelchair users who are recipients of distributed wheelchairs the church supplies.  The trainers are physical and occupational therapist- 2 per training.  The church pays your ticket, hotel, and meals.  Short term specialists set-up the contracts and arrangements and humanitarian missionaries put together the details.  Trainers just need to show up and teach the 3 day training courses. 
As soon as he told me I knew I wanted in.  I have always wanted to do humanitarian work and I love to travel.  Next thing I know I am at a training day and on the "list" of credible therapist trainers waiting for my opportunity.  The call comes in the beginning of the summer- Jordan- end of Sept.  I was awed.  Jordan- the middle east?  So excited!  I never imagined my life would open to an opportunity to take me there.

This is the beginning of the that story.

Clay Watson was my co-trainer.  I was so grateful to have him along.  All the areas in the training I was weak on- he was very strong.  I think we made great teaching partners.  It is also handy to have a 6'4 man to walk around foreign countries with, espeically at night.
We started the adventure 2pm Friday,  Sept 23rd.  SLC to Paris, Paris to Ammon.  24 hours of traveling.  I would like to state for the record that I had a much better seat than Clay had on the long flight to Paris.  The Cullimore's and the Lees were there at the airport to pick us up and whisked us away to dinner.  Clay did have his checked bag lost and had to have it delivered the next day which made me feel really good about my decision to go carry on with my luggage.  That is right 2 weeks- all carry on.  I am a little proud of that fact.  Dinner was a delicious sharwerma- the best I had the whole time and then it was off to bed.

11pm in bed time and 3:30 am wake-up to be out the door by 4am for our Petra adventure.  Good thing it was during jet lag when my body had no clue what time it was.  3 hour drive to Petra, 9 hours of hiking in Petra followed by a surprise stop.  Tired and happy was the theme of the day.

Castle Ruins from the Crusades
at Sunrise

 This was a quick stop on the way to Petra- my first taste of the amazing history surrounding the area.

Sunrise
the South is much more barren than the North



Moses' Spring
Legend has it that this is where Moses struck the rock for water




This is looking out toward Petra
I could hardly believe what I saw
I travelled 1/2 way across the world to find Southern Utah




Rocks formations on the road to Petra- look familiar?



Offical beginning of the slot canyon road to the city

Water is a big concern in Jordan
All over Petra Aquaducts and cisterns were found demonstrating the great lengths they went to to preserve water.

The slot canyon was the road to Petra.
It had remaints of the stone paved road.

All over Jordan there were cats- but no stray dogs.

First peak

Second peak

The capstone piece of Petra revealed

Love the camals

The 3 Petra explorers- Brother Lee, Clay and I

Petra is one large city built out of stone.  The facades are grand.  Most have fallen done over the centuries but there are still plenty of remants to catch a glimpse of the past.

It is difficult to see but on top of the mountain on the left side of the picture is a white dot- 
that is Aaron's tomb

There are cairn "gardens" all over.  Not used for direction- possibly just tourists playing with rocks

Most of the facades for these have fallen- but imagine what it looked like when every where that was flat and a hole had a facade on it.

Pottery pieces were everywhere




What the inside looks like.  Granted this is inside the largest room we found.  Generally speaking inside was a room- some with inlets as found here.  Very few had any adjoining rooms and others had tomb sites.




In addition there was a Byzantine church- as well as Roman Ruins- (which I don 't have any pictures of)





At the top of the hike to the "Monastery" there was a cool place to rest- literally




The Monastery




A trinket shop at the "End of the World"




View from the top



 On the way back from Petra we took a different route home.  Along this way we found many new and exciting sites.  We even found a herd of camels blocking the road.


Camel




More camels




The road we travelled down- Clay and I were so tired we actually managed to fall asleep during this drive.




Our suprise destination- the Dead Sea




The interesting rock formation is called "Lot's Wife"



The Dead Sea-
Apparently it is usually glassy still- but there was an unusual rain storm right before we arrived causing
a lot of waves.



Tired but happy




Brother Lee got up close and personal with the Sea as he filled a bottle with the salty water.  The sea is far below sea level- the lowest point on earth and is 26% salt.

The day ended with meeting up with other missionary couples for dinner- why Chinese when we are in Jordan?  Well- we weren't choosing- and we weren't complaining- ok maybe we were a little bit...

A big thank you to Brother Lee for his sacrifice of his day to enable us to have a great adventure and see one of the great sites in this world.

That is it for Day 1.
More to follow soon.

Theater