Hope...in spite of it all.

Last week my mom told me that a friend of our family just found out that her dad has stage 4 cancer.
I have thought about her a lot. I have thought a lot about what I should say to her.
So many of you said so many wonderful things to me when I was in her shoes, but I could not find the words.  The more I thought about it, the more I worried about her and about all of us.
How do we get through these terrible things?
And then an experience I had came to mind... and has since consumed my mind.
I did not want to write about it because it really is exhausting trying to express the intense emotions I experienced, but I must write about it so that I can get it out of my mind.  I need the space in my brain that this story is occupying so here it is...
The details of the week my dad was diagnosed with cancer are all mixed up in my mind. But as I remember it, we flew home from Vegas on Sunday.  That morning we woke up and went to see my dad in the ICU before heading to the airport. He looked horrible.  It was the morning after his life saving surgery and the day before the life threatening blood clot.  Seeing him like that freaked me out, but I was also feeling a little bit better that they had fixed the initial problem and saved his life.
Monday I received the news that the mass removed was a tumor and was cancerous. I spent the day researching curable cancers like lymphoma and said the famous last words, "We will be fine- as long as it's not Pancreatic Cancer- we will be good." I spent the day phoning family, keeping everyone updated, and the panic was slowly building inside
Tuesday I found out about the blood clot in his lung.  My mom told me how much it had scared my dad. I was so upset that I could not be there and help, but tried to do everything I could from home to help. I ordered photo prints at a Vegas Costco so that my dad could have pictures of our vacation in his hospital room. But that took about an hour and then I was useless again, so back to worrying and panicking.
Wednesday I got the call from my Uncle Scott that the doctors had confirmed that it was indeed Pancreatic Cancer.  That day feels like a black hole. I remember crying and that is about all. I told Scott that I couldn't tell the family (My Uncle Scott deserves a gold freakin' medal for everything he did). I was no longer helpful. I was incapacitated by the diagnosis. I cried all afternoon. I googled Pancreatic Cancer and found myself looking at numbers like <5% chance of surviving 5 years. I started doing the math. Taylor would be 18 in 5 years.  Annie would be 9.  I started wondering if my dad could make it to see Taylor graduate or Annie get baptized. Then I wondered if he would be here to see the baby I would have in November.
That night I was in bed. Brock had finally fell asleep after consoling me for what seemed like hours. I started thinking about my mom.  It seemed so unfair that she would lose my dad. She had grown up without her father because he had been killed in a car accident when she was six.  I knew it had been difficult for her growing up without a father and I could not fathom how she would cope if she lost her husband. I was on the verge of losing it and I didn't want to wake Brock, so I grabbed my pillow and headed for my closet.
I remember laying on my closet floor sobbing into my pillow. There were moments I felt as if I couldn't breathe.  I ran through the scenarios again- Tay's first day of high school, my mom's birthday, Christmas imagining these things without my dad. How would I take care of my sister, my brother, my mom? How could I do this? I was so afraid. I was so afraid that he would die and what would that mean for the rest of us? I was overcome by the fear.
As I wiped the tears, I saw blood on my hand. I stood up and went to the bathroom mirror. When I saw my reflection I was shocked.  I looked like I had been in a fist fight. My entire face was red and my eyes were swollen, my nose was bleeding, and I even had a fat lip.
But seeing myself like this gave me the visual shock I needed. I realized that I had actually been in a literal fight. I had been in a fight with fear and from the looks of it, fear had won. I went back to the closet floor and laid back down on my pillow. Now the tears were silent tears as I prayed. How could I possible do this? How could I get through these days, hours, minutes?
Then one word came to my mind.
Hope.
Hope?
Hope for what?
My dad was going to die?  What in the world was I supposed to hope for?
Hope for something...anything good.
I decided that I would do whatever it took to have even the tinniest shred of hope.
The next day I got back on the phone.  I asked for everyone to pray for good news.
I asked everyone to hope.
It was a few days later that we found out that my dad had an extremely rare form of pancreatic cancer and that we indeed could hope for months, years, even decades. It was a miracle.
But that is not the lesson here.
Hope is not for the miracles.
Hope is for the tragedies.
Hope is for the sadness and the sickness.
Hope is to help us get through the horrible, terrible times in our lives when it seems that all is lost.
Hope is our weapon in the fight against fear.
***
I remember this lesson as I think about my Grandma who is in terrible pain right now.  The doctors are sending her home this week and my family and hospice will take care of her until the end.
I do not fear that she will die. My Grandma is practically a saint in my eyes (even though she did call Katie "a little shit" once. I can't remember why, but I bet she deserved it). She served three missions, she raised seven children and more grandchildren. She has lived a wonderful life despite the tragedies and hardships she endured.  But I fear the pain she must endure before the end.  But then I must hope that she will be ok. I hope that there is someway for her to endure the difficult and painful times ahead. I hope that she will be comforted and strengthened by the love of those that she took care of.
***
I remember this lesson as I make big mistakes and a million tiny mistakes as a mother.  I hope that despite my mistakes that my children will still manage to grow and be capable, loving, happy, intelligent, strong beautiful women.  I hope that tomorrow I will be a better mother than I was today.
***
I remember this lesson as I watch people endure unbearable sadness because of the choices of others. I hope that somehow, someday these people will be able to find happiness. I hope that they will be able to find their own hope.
***
And I hope that my friend will find hope as she goes through this difficult time with her family as they take care of her father and face the uncertain future.  I hope that she will find the love and peace that comes from hope. And that she can hold on to that hope and shatter her fear.