Fact: Nothing is Impossible to God

I can't wait to tell you all this story. I'm not sure when this blog turned into a testimony journal, but God has been so good to Stephen and me, it's hard not to share in the joy of blessings and praise my Savior. I think most of you who read this blog are of my same faith. If not, and you would like to learn more, check out lds.org or ask me any questions. Either way, I hope none are offended when I share the mercies of God with you.

So, back up a few weeks ago (or just scroll down, because the post explaining everything is on this blog). Saturday night, Stephen and I started a fast, asking God to help us in our lives. Specifically,  we were asking that we would manage our time better and accomplish all that we needed to. The next morning, I woke up with spasms. When I realized later that my medical conditions might be connected to the fast, I wondered at my God. How could adding this stress to my life allow me to better handle the stress I was already feeling? With time, relaxation, a patient husband, and sleeping pills, I've gotten the convulsing under control. Some nights are better than others, but I feel like the trial, for the most part, has passed.

But it did take a toll on my lifestyle. Namely, I had to quit my custodial job (again, scroll down for feelings on this). Stephen and I had sat down at the beginning of the semester and financially planed and budgeted for the upcoming months. We would make it on both of our incomes, but just barely. Quitting my job put us under more and more each month. We had a general savings fund we were dipping into in order to make it, and had calculated we would need to exhaust most of our emergency savings in order to survive until the new year. At that point, we wouldn't have enough. We counseled with each other and the Lord a lot, and decide the best action was for Stephen to take a semester off to work full-time while I finished my degree. Stephen would then do classes during the summer in order to catch up again. It wasn't ideal, but it was our best option.

Knowing how tight money is, I have been doing all I can to spend as little as possible. Basically, all I could affect was the grocery budget. We were already living on a tight grocery budget, and trying to go under was causing me a lot of emotional grief. I wanted to make meals that were healthy and better than ramen, but the more I tried, the more I realized that we would have to give up a lot in order to be under budget--namely, meat and dairy. I've been creative, but it was still not making much of a difference.

This leads me to Saturday night. Stephen and I went grocery shopping. I went over budget in order to feed us for a week, and this was with planning on using as much ingredients that we already had as we could. I felt discouraged. Stephen and I were doing all that we could. We were being frugal, wise, and thoughtful. We read our scriptures every day and went to the temple every week and paid our tithing with each paycheck. Still, as I entered the receipt's information on our budget sheet, I stared at the numbers. I'm sure most, if not all of you can relate. Looking at the categories, we had already gone over in order to pay for my medical expenses. We still had almost two full weeks left of the month, and I had around $20 left for food. I was regretting buying the pumpkins we picked out in order to celebrate our first Halloween together.

I looked at the large, red number, telling me our expected balance for the end of the year. I felt so disheartened. I voiced my worries to Stephen, who held me but couldn't offer me much consolation beyond that. For moths, he's been repeating to me "it'll work" when it came to financial concerns. On Saturday, when he again assured me that "it'll work," I snapped back at him. "How?" I asked. "How will it work? You see the numbers as well as I do (if not better, because math was never my strong point). There's not much else we can do." And then I made the sinner's mistake to doubt my Heavenly Father. "It's not like God can give us more money. There's no way He can do that. It's not possible." Yes, I actually said that out loud, after the experience I had earlier that week (refer to most recent post). I'm amazed at how often I must be taught the same lesson of simple faith in Him.

Sunday, I had a hard morning, with the concerns weighing on my mind, but Stephen helped me turn the day around and find joy in my situation. We drove up the canyon a bit to look at the trees and made a quiche. We cleaned the apartment and my visiting teachers stopped by. I made cookies and read my scriptures. This morning, I woke up and went to class and overall had a really great day. Stephen commented several times how he was happy because I was happy today. We had fun in our marriage class together and walked home holding hands. Money was not on my mind when Stephen brought in the mail as I was making dinner and admiring our new microwave (It blew last Monday and has been a creative week to get by until maintenance replaced it). I got an envelope of family names to take the to temple from my cousin and Stephen got a letter from BYU. He opened it up, looked at it, and then showed it to me without saying a word. He was holding a check, displaying his refund. The thing is, neither of us knew this was coming. I asked him several times what that was, out of disbelief. "No way!" I exclaimed to him over and over. "No way! No way!"

He then checked his BYU account. FAFSA had come through for him. We thought he was just offered a discounted loan, to which we declined, not wanting to add to our debt more. We then read more. He was given a pell grant, half of which was dispersed to us in that check. I was shocked, stunned, and in denial. Stephen says I go through the stages of grief when I'm surprised. "It's not possible!" I mumbled to myself. This then reminded me of murmurings only a few days before. My God, who I was sure had given us all that he would or even could, had found a way to bless us more.

I marveled at Stephen, "all we are doing is keeping the commandments. And yet he blesses us with this?" I held up the check. My husband then turned to Mosiah 2:23-24 "And now, in the first place, he hath created you, and granted unto you your lives, for which ye are indebted unto him. And secondly, he doth require that ye should do as he hath commanded you; for which if ye do, he doth immediately bless you; and therefore he hath paid you. And ye are still indebted unto him, and are, and will be, forever and ever; therefore, of what have ye to boast?"

Still in shock, we pulled out our budget and added the new numbers together. Not only would we have enough to live off of while I can't work, Stephen could take classes next semester. I then had him calculate some math for me. We took my old wage and figured out how much I would have made had I worked 20 hours the whole semester. Our rough estimate was within a few dollars of the amount the check was for. This is when I shed a few tears and expressed my baffled gratitude. Even when I doubt and worry, my God still has compassion on my husband and me. He understands our needs and repeatedly goes beyond expectations to answer our prayers, voiced or silent.

Writing this out has helped me see that God has been answering the fast Stephen and I offered a month ago. Since I haven't been working, I've had the time I needed to keep up in my schoolwork and still get things done around the house. Stephen and I found a way to manage our time at the expense of our income, but God has taken care of that for us. My husband says every couple has their tithing/financial miracle story, and now we have ours. We did all we could. We followed His commandments and included Him in our decisions. And by implementing our doctrinal understanding of grace, God has answered our prayers, soothed my worries, and provided. Hosanna! Hallelujah!

Where's Wallet?

Yesterday afternoon, I was rushing out the door. I was running behind schedule and had an appointment at four o'clock on campus that I didn't want to be late to. I loaded my pockets with my phone, keys, and wallet, and hopped on my bike. As I started pedaling up the street, I realized I was wearing the jeans with shallow pockets. My belongings were having a hard time staying put, so I moved my keys to my jacket pocket and shoved my wallet down as deep as I could in my jeans. My jacket pockets aren't much deeper, so I was careful to adjust my items accordingly. I biked fast and hard, rushing against the clock. When I arrived at the student center, I spotted the bike rack across the street and biked there to lock up my bike. As I was crossing the road back to the Wilkinson Center, I checked my pockets. Phone: check. Keys: check. Wallet...

Panic set in. I looked at the clock on my phone. 3:57. If I stopped to look for my wallet, I would be late for my appointment. But what else could I do? My life was in the wallet. Debit card, credit card, student ID, drivers license, temple recommend, gift cards, medicine, social security card (yes, I know I shouldn't carry it with me; it ended up in there after I tried to change my name legally), and a decent amount of cash, along with my emergency money hidden in a pocket--all of this was lost. I ran back to my bike and checked the rack. Nothing. I retraced my path, keeping my eyes on the ground all the way back to my apartment. I turned around when I got home and immediately continued searching as I biked back to campus. When I arrived again at the bike rack, it was 4:20. I was upset. I was late for my meeting and still hadn't found my wallet. I decided to go to my appointment late and take care of things there.

As soon as I finished at 5:00, I resumed my search. I stopped by the lost and found on campus, but she hadn't seen a wallet. I biked home, carefully scanning the road, moving slowly and methodically. When I again reached my apartment with no sign of my wallet, I went in and changed into some warmer clothes and better shoes and set out again on foot this time. As I again trekked to the Wilk, I felt discouraged. The night before, Stephen and I sat down and discussed finances. We made a good plan on how to make our means last, and my wallet contents were near essential for that plan to work. We had prayed to our Heavenly Father, explaining our situation and telling him we had faith in His ability to aid us. We promised to Him to continue to pay our tithing faithfully and attend the temple weekly. We felt the calm assurance that he would provide for us, and that everything would be ok. (We're newlywed college students--being poor is almost synonymous for this time in our lives, and that was anticipated and planned for. I don't mean to complain.)

But here I was, a day later, doing all I could to make up for my mistake, and feeling depressed and angry at myself. I had been praying the moment I noticed my wallet was missing. Nothing was coming together. The weather was cold and wet, sprinkling on and off just enough to make me damp. I had now scanned the street almost 4 times and had no luck. I checked my phone for the time. 5:42. I had notifications for emails on my phone that I had been ignoring for a while that kept piling up. I shouldn't be looking at my phone; I should be looking at the ground! But I paused to check the emails for no other reason than divine nagging.

"Your BYU ID card is at the ID Center, 2310 WSC"

As I saw this in the subject line of one of the emails, my heart flipped. I kept reading. My wallet had been turned into the ID Center. I checked the time of the email. 4:05. Minuets after I realized it was lost, someone had found it and brought it to the center. The email then continued on to say the ID center would close at 6:00. I had about 15 minutes at that point, and ran the rest of the way to campus. I made it to the center at 5:55 and inquired about my wallet. The employee said a guy found it in a parking lot and returned it. I signed that I picked it up and breathed for the first time in two hours. I had rode my bike past three parking lots, but logically, it could only have been by the bike rack for someone to find it and return it within ten minutes of me knowing it was gone. I had checked the rack thoroughly several times at this point, including immediately after I noticed my loss. One day, in the eternities, I'll look back on that day and find out exactly what happened. Until then, I can only be grateful I live in an honest community.

By this point, the drama of the ordeal hit me, and I asked Stephen to pick me up from campus on his way home from work. at 6:10, he showed up at campus, and as I walked out to the car, a rainbow arched across the sky, curving over the Y on the mountain and ending right above our red Suzuki. I kid you not. I wouldn't include such a cliche detail if it wasn't real. I had texted Stephen during my search several times, so he knew of my plight and my relief. He kissed me and said "See, I told you it would work out and be ok." I scoffed but smiled. I admire Stephen's constant faith. I seem to be taught the same lesson over and over, but when it comes time for the test, I question God. Stephen's good at reminding me that His hand is stretched out still.

So morals of this story: God will continue to take care of me. Strangers can be kind and honest people, for which I owe my relief. Leave myself plenty of time to get to appointments so I don't have to rush. Don't bike a lot in the cold rain without a jacket (I now have a cold--sorry Mom, I know you taught me better than to leave home without a jacket). And most of all--don't put important items in shallow pockets.

Decisions, Decisions

I want to begin this post with thanking everyone who has shown their concern for me. I did not nearly expect the reaction I got. I tried to let you know everything was alright, but I am still humbled by the outpouring of prayers and love. My body has definitely relaxed as I've slowed down in life, but it's still not perfect. I'm seeing a neurologist tomorrow. I'm nervous for that, but I'm hopeful that it will either confirm that I'm normal and just stressed, or find some sort of problem that is easy to fix. Nowadays, I normally only have spasms when I'm laying down resting. After a few minutes or so of relaxing on my bed, I start twitching. The best thing I've found is to sit up and rock myself a bit, but it's hard to sleep that way. I've had some restless nights lately. I've been napping during the day to make up for it.

In order to reduce my stress, Stephen and I have prayed and pondered much and have decided it is best that I don't work right now. So I made a painful phone call to my boss and told her I was quitting. I am honestly sad to leave that job. Sure, there's nothing glamorous in being a custodian to freshman, but it was an honest and good job. I felt productive and accomplished. I liked the time it gave me to listen to conference talks and my coworkers were nice to hang out with. It was nice to have a job and be earning money. Finances will be tight for us for a little while, but we can make it work. We just won't have enough for me to go to school next semester too. So with that in mind, I'll get a job in January and work for a few months to build up some savings and go back to school next fall or winter. Maybe I'll graduate the same time Stephen does.

I'm looking into being an apartment manager. I have an interview tomorrow at the Elms to work there. I have to see if it'll work out for me. I didn't quit one job just to get overwhelmed with another. But if they will let me work a decent time table, maybe letting me do part time now in order to do full time next year, that would be wonderful. However, we'll have to move. I like my apartment a lot. It feels like home to me. It will be hard to move again, but there are several reasons why that would be a good option. It's all just in the idea stage, so we'll have to see what comes of everything.

 All of these decisions have been weighing on my mind for days now, and it feels good to have them decided and resolved. I considered not finishing this semester and just working full time, but I've already invested so much, and I want to graduate, so I'm still in class. I'm being more mindful of how I'm feeling and trying not to burn myself out. The classes I'm in require a lot of work, and because I've missed a few days, I'm struggling to get on top of them again, but I'll keep at it. There are 64 days left until the last day of class, not that I'm counting. I've taken my first midterm, so we're already deep in the course work. Stephen is being as supportive and encouraging as possible. He's so good to me.

Conference came at the ideal time for me, with all these life changes being presented. I found a lot of comfort in the talks. Stephen and I had some very personal experiences through conference that are too sacred to share on the internet, but to sum up, we felt that God was very aware of our situation and answered our prayers with comfort. He didn't tell us what all the right answers were, but simply proved His love. We were able to attend the Saturday afternoon session in person with our friends Katelyn and Trevor. It was such a special experience for us.

So Stephen and I are in a marriage class together, and for one assignment, we have made a goal to go to the temple once a week. I specifically am making the goal to do family names. We did a session last Friday together. That was a really nice break from the troubles of life. I love being in the temple. After our session, Stephen and I sat in the Celestial room together and talked. After a while, he asked me, "Are you ready to go?" and I said, "I'm never ready to leave here." Which is sincerely true. I want live in the temple and always feel that peace. It doesn't fix all my problems, but temple worship puts my worries into perspective. I'm so grateful for the blessing of having the temple in my life.

Well, this post is kind of all over the place, but that's what my life is right now. It's been rough, but it's also been so good for me. I find comfort in many places and from many people. I'm reevaluating my life and my plans and that's always hard to do, but I understand it is for the best. If life right now isn't working for me, then things need to change. But my foundations aren't changing. I am developing more faith and humility. I feel more love and trust from Stephen. I'm recognizing the blessings in my life and feeling grateful for family and friends who care so much about me. I've had a lot of people extend their help, be it in car rides or kind texts. Life is allowed to be rough sometimes. It helps me appreciate the calm more. 

I'm Fanspastic

Saturday morning, Stephen and I spent a few hours cleaning and decorating our apartment. We are still in the process of moving in. I wonder if we will ever be 100% moved in while living in Union Square. Our bedroom is still full of boxes, and my closest has been a disaster since I dumped all my shoes on the floor before we were married. But we're getting there. Our living room and kitchen are almost 100% done. We just have to actually clear the counter and table instead of moving and sorting piles over and over. But it is so much fun for me to clean alongside Stephen. It's in those moments where I'm standing back, telling him to tilt the mirror half an inch to the right so it will be level that I feel the most like I'm married. It's in the the simple act of him sliding the table so I can decorate the wall behind it that I feel like we are husband and wife. As I go start the laundry while he is vacuuming the living room, I feel overwhelmed with love for Stephen. He is my best friend and my coworker. He is my counselor and my confidant. He's my support and my drive. I tell him often that I'm so glad I married him and not someone else, because the little perks of his personality complement mine so well.

As we were cleaning, I was rambling off about something unimportant from the bathroom while he was in the kitchen. I then paused and poked my head around the corner and said "scripture case" to which he replied "that's what it was!" and I couldn't stop laughing. To set up the back story, Stephen is keeping a list of presents he could get me for my birthday and Christmas. As we think of things that would be nice to have, he'll write them down. We were in the BYU bookstore on Wednesday, wandering around and killing time. I told him I wanted a new scripture case. (Mine I've had since I was in Young Women's and it has been with me through EFY and Girls camp and other adventures, but it is wearing out. There's also a permanent stain from a green crayon. Basically, it would be a reasonable time to update my case.) We weren't home for him to write it down however, and by the time we remembered that we had thought of something, we couldn't remember what that something was. So days later, when out of the blue I said "scripture case" and he knew exactly what I meant by it and didn't find my outburst odd, I couldn't help but laugh and love him more.

So now that I've started this blog with sappy love stories, I guess it's time I explain what's really going on in my life. To start with: I'm alright. So no panicking and no freaking out, alright? I'm having some medical problems. It started Sunday morning when I woke up. My muscles were twitching and spazzing rapidly. I'm assuming everyone has felt a muscle spasm at some point. Now imagine it is happening for hours all over your body. It's like my muscles are hiccuping. It's not painful, but it is frustrating and annoying. It happened all day Sunday. It would get worse and then better as I relaxed. I took a muscle relaxant in order to sit through church, but by the end of the third hour, it was just getting difficult to not draw attention to myself. 

Monday, I woke up with spasms again, but felt better after I got up and moved around some. I went to my classes, and I was fine for the most part. There was still an anxious feeling to my body, and ever now and then I would twitch again. I came home and twitched more again, especially when I would lay down. I was ok enough to sleep, but woke up a few hours later convulsing. In my half-asleep state, I started panicking, which only made it worse. Through my tears of frustration and anxiety, Stephen held me and tried to comfort me as much as possible. He would give me massages that turned out to be too painful for my tense muscles. Finally, I asked him for a blessing. He changed into church clothes and consecrated some oil. After anointing me, he commanded my body to be at peace, and the moment he did, in a very miraculous, testimony building way, my body instantly calmed down. I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew Stephen was feeling the Spirit very strongly too by the time the blessing ended. I was so exhausted, we said a prayer of gratitude and I was asleep within minutes.

I wish that was the end of the story, because that's a happy, faithful ending.

Tuesday, I woke up and vomited. My spasms were back and I felt miserable. I messaged my boss and told her I was too sick to work and would sleep more and see if that helped. Stephen tucked me back into bed and left for work. I slept some, but woke up still convulsing. I called Tiffany, who talked with her mother's husband (a doctor) and they both recommended I see a doctor. Convulsing for three days wasn't good, they said. I tried to convince her I was fine, but I started to wonder myself if this problem wasn't going to go away on its own. I took another nap around noon after I told my boss I wasn't going to make it to work that day at all. When I woke up from this nap, I was convulsing worse than I had up to that point. I was shaking all over and couldn't make myself sit still very well. Stephen called me and told me to go to a doctor too. I scheduled an appointment and asked my friend for a ride.

When I got there, I think I scared the nurse who took my vitals. Throughout my whole trip, there was not a minute where I was calm enough to sit still for more than a few seconds. The doctor walked in and looked at me like I was possessed (which I may be--anyone know an exorcist?) and asked me a million questions and checked me out. He observed me doing simple movement tasks and checked my reflexes and for the most part, I did everything just fine. He stared at his computer screen for at least ten minutes in silence as I convulsed in the corner as politely and patiently as I could. He then finally told me he had little idea what was wrong with me (comforting) and guessed it might be related to restless leg syndrome--except it happens all over my body all throughout the day with no triggers or treatments. He prescribed me some medicine used to treat Parkinson's Disease and ordered a blood test. He told me to take the medicine for the next few days and see him again on Thursday. If I don't improve by then, he'll call in some consultants, maybe a neurologist or a psychiatrist. I tried to tell my doctor that it wasn't a big deal, and he looked at me and said "Are you kidding? This is incapacitating your life." I shrugged, not able to refute him.

Getting my blood drawn was fun. The plebotomist looked at me and asked if I was ok, or if I was reacting to having my blood drawn. He said "Are you shaking because your getting your blood drawn?" I then replied, "No, I'm getting my blood drawn because I'm shaking." He had to hold my whole arm down and just stab me as soon as I was still enough. Kind of painful, actually, but it worked well enough. My friend drove me home and I laid in bed and shook until Stephen got home. He took good care of me and helped me as much as he could last night. I took the medicine and felt pretty drowsy soon afterwards. Those that know me well know I'm sensitive to medicine. I was completely loopy last night and my mind was all over the place. I probably only remember half of the things I said to Stephen. You'll have to check with him. He tucked me into bed early and let me sleep while he did his homework.

This morning, after much consultation with friends and with Stephen, I was convinced that this might be due to stress, and that I should take the week off and relax as much as possible. I stayed home from school and emailed my teachers, asking for patience from them. Stephen has been counseling me to not worry, but I still feel like I'm being lazy, or taking the easy way out, or cheating. But when I'm sitting in a chair, shaking and spazing so much that I'm gasping and making noises because my diaphragm is tensing, it's kind of impossible to sit through class without disrupting it. So I'm home today again, doing nothing because doctor's orders. It's frustrating but I'm trying to make as many jokes about it as I can and keep myself positive.

So life is crazy sometimes. There are Saturdays where I decorate my apartment with my husband and there are Tuesdays where a doctor is baffled by inability to control my muscles. Stephen assures me he loves me, even if I'm convulsing, so that's good. He says I don't take care of myself enough, and is urging me to focus on my health and not worry about school or work if necessary. I find it hard to be that selfish. But it's hard to argue with him while stuttering and thrashing in bed (p.s. I stutter too from this). I've never heard of such an affliction, and the internet hasn't seem to either. I'm doing a lot better today. Enough so that I can type out this post without too much hassle. Maybe the medication is working. Maybe this affliction is on the decline. Maybe it really is caused by stress and taking a day off or a week off will solve it. But it could be worse, and I have so much to be grateful for. At least it's not painful when I twitch. I guess moral of the story: Priesthood is awesome and the human body is a curious creation. Oh, and take it easy sometimes. I'm still learning that lesson though. I just want to do everything perfectly all at once immediately. Instead, I'm essentially on bed rest. Please, keep me in your prayer.