"I'm Doing Just Fine."

Boyd K. Packer, a beloved Apostle, recently passed away. I got to hear parts of his funeral on TV. One story from his funeral has stuck with me especially.

 

Elder Dallin H. Oaks spoke as a fellow Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, and also as President Packer's long-time friend. Elder Oaks said that no matter the condition President Packer was in, he answered the question, "How are you?" the very same way:

 

"I'm doing just fine."

 

(I hope I got his verbiage exactly correct.)

 

If you're a long-time reader of my blog, you know I have typically addressed that very question with some combination of four levels of candor when it is asked of me. When I heard this story about President Packer, with a standard answer despite the standard and superstandard ups and downs of his life, I had to stop and think for awhile. How could one simple phrase sum it all up, every time? My first thought was, "That doesn't seem very honest. Everyone has good and rough days, including Apostles."

 

But I've talked it over with several people, and a stunning thought keeps hitting me in the face. It seems to me that President Packer wasn't necessarily avoiding the truth or putting up a wall to hide his best or worst of days.

 

President Packer was saying this sentence to himself, and he believed it. It was an affirmation.

 

 

"The storms are swirling, but I'm doing just fine."

 

"My body ages, but I'm doing just fine."

 

"I don't know how things will turn out, but I believe all will be well. I'm doing just fine."

 

"I see immense successes from my efforts, but they do not come by my power. All glory goes to The Father. I am lowly and have much to learn. I don't need credit. I'm doing just fine."

 

"I feel sorrow and loss, but I know the truth and am comforted by it. I'm doing just fine."

 

 

That sentence is faithful. It is believing. Managing, making it, and still here, we thrive. Indeed, we are doing just fine!

 

Zoom out past this mortal life, and I realize that God carries us through it. Um, WOW?! Our Maker has a plan that fulfills our every need and develops us into our finest. Trials are opportunities to be refined. We work toward being finished and complete.

 

I submit that it is completely possible to reprogram a calamity complex into a calming complex, and it is as easy to wear grumpy pants as it is to wear giggle pants. Why not be fine? Be in a state of wonder instead of worry.

 

I have been trying it out, and I think it's nice to feel "just fine" and really mean it. I believe in good things to come. And whether I am asking a probing question or thinking it to myself, I try to live by President Packer's paradigm because I like it. I smile more on the inside because I realize in wonder that—wow—I'm doing just fine.

Three-Week Hiatus

Hi y'all. I have been in denial about ever having had Lyme the last few weeks. I stopped IV antibiotics and had my PICC line pulled three weeks ago, and I have taken a mental vacation from the sick life. It's been awesome. 

Now the reality of illness is peeking out from behind the trees of hope I planted. It burns holes in facets of life that I hoped it would never touch again. I feel so DONE with chronic illness, yet it remains. The recovery is slow. 

And actually, I don't know if recovery ever took root. I like to hope so. But as symptoms emerge (like exhausting twitching spells and migraines), I wonder. Is it healing, illness, or good ol' detoxing?

That's one of the most frustrating parts of all: I don't know where I am on this mountainous journey. Am I peaking? On a decline? Or am I bobbing up and down a few degrees day to day? What is the next step? Should I take really tough steps uphill, with muscles shaking and sweat dripping to the earth, while I begin to grow in hope and strength? Should I allow myself to be swallowed in a new avalanche while I wait upon The Lord for direction on if I should dig out? Or should I set up a nice campsite and wait while until the storm passes to keep hiking? WHAT?

The hardest part of any trial is not knowing how long it will last. If I could see a graph of my trials to know when the worst part of that huge emotional contraction is cresting, that would make panting through it a whole lot easier. 

And so, three weeks of wondering has not given me much headway in the self-motivational department. 

I had a great holiday weekend out of town with our family. I was practically my old self, but with dietary restrictions. It was miraculous. It was like slipping back so easily into a pair of jeans you haven't worn since before pregnancy; it's like they've always fit, but you KNOW you've undergone such dramatic changes. Heck, you sustained a PERSON who was ready for the outside world. And that person is proof that you changed; and that person changes the world by being born. Yet, the jeans fit. It's like noting ever happened for just a split second. You could never forget your child permanently, but you flashback to the unaffected you. 

But since we got home, I've spent 90% of my time lying down, in pajamas, wondering how this weekend even happened. The jeans are in the wash, and I don't have energy to launder them. 

In short, I hoped to blog during this three-week hiatus about a grand, positive change. I can't. It would be nice to report that I have perfected the art of patience. Not in this lifetime. 

But I'll tell you this. I'm still here, and this journey, wherever I am in it, somehow matters.