The Power of the Word, and the Beginning of the Journey

I know that there is power in the Word of God.

I know that Jesus Christ is the Word of God (See John 1), and that it is by His grace and the power of His atoning sacrifice alone that we are made "...heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ..."  (Romans 8:17).

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."  (John 3:16).

I also know that we can receive the Word of God by revelation, through the voice of the Holy Spirit (see D&C 18:33-36, 88:66).

And of course, we also have the Word of God as spoken and recorded by all the holy prophets since the world began.

The prophet Nephi wrote, "And they said unto me: What meaneth the rod of iron which our father saw, that led to the tree?  And I said unto them that it was the word of God; and whoso would hearken unto the word of God, and would hold fast unto it, they would never perish; neither could the temptations and the fiery darts of the adversary overpower them unto blindness, to lead them away to destruction."   (1 Nephi 15:23-24. See also Hebrews 4:12, Alma 31:5).

I know that these three different meanings of "The Word of God" (Christ, Holy Spirit, Scripture) are all bound together in Christ, our Redeemer, and I know that as we "hearken unto" and "hold fast unto" the Word of God, we "should not perish, but have everlasting life."

Over the past three years, numerous scriptures have brought me strength and comfort, but there are a handful that have had a particularly powerful impact on me.  The Holy Ghost has spoken to my soul through these scriptures, and has woven them into my very being.  These scriptures are no longer simply words in a book, recorded long ago by people I've never met; they have become mine - they are the word of the Lord which He has spoken to me, personally.  For several weeks now, I have felt prompted to write about some experiences that I have had with these treasured scriptures and share them on this blog...

However, I admit that I have resisted this prompting, for several reasons (or perhaps "excuses" is the proper word).  I shall not enumerate them here, except to say that at the core, I suppose that, "I fear lest [people] shall mock at [my] words" as the Prophet Moroni expressed (see Ether 12). 

See, Cathy and I and our children are just ordinary people.  We have our sins, our vices, our flaws, and our weakness, just like everyone else.  We experience hardships and afflictions, just like everyone else.  The particulars may vary, of course, but each and every person who ever has or ever will live on this earth is given many difficult challenges to face and to overcome while in this mortal state.

On the other hand, Cathy and I and our children are also children of a loving Heavenly Father, just like everyone else; we all have a divine potential, and I know that God is there, helping our family through our challenges, just as He does with each of His children.  I know that the Atonement of Jesus Christ makes it possible for us to be healed, both physically and spiritually, and also makes it possible for us to be bound together as families in eternity.

There are seven scriptures that feel I need to write about, but before I can do it, I need to provide some context.  When Nicole relapsed and our oldest daughter, Kersten, created this blog, she posted the following from me:  http://ourlittlenicole.blogspot.com/2014/02/relapse.html

In that first post, I mention a few things from Nicole's first battle with Leukemia.  However, I will now attempt to describe my perspective of what happened "in the beginning" in more detail, and then perhaps write about the seven scriptures in future blogs.

Nicole, September 2011, 7 weeks old

Nicole, September 2011, 10 weeks old

...

At the latter end of November 2011, I took my just-turned 4 month-old daughter Nicole downstairs to the basement and lay on the couch with her, trying to sooth her.  She had been crying through much of the night for the past couple nights and Cathy had been getting up with her.  I knew Cathy was exhausted and it was my turn.  I hoped that by going downstairs, Cathy wouldn't be able to hear Nicole's cries and would thus be able to sleep.

Nicole had an ear infection and her doctor had prescribed an antibiotic, but it didn't seem to be clearing the infection.  At the time, we were unaware that Leukemic cells were rapidly multiplying in Nicole's system; it would have required a blood sample and lab tests to discover the real problem, and the ear infection helped to mask most of the early symptoms.

As I lay holding Nicole for some time without any relief for either her or me, I began to whisper a prayer to Heavenly Father that He would help Nicole stop hurting and that both of us would be able to sleep.  Time passed, and my prayer went unanswered.  Eventually though, we both dozed off, until my cell phone alarm rang and it was time for me to drive from Hyrum to Salt Lake City (SLC) to work.  Nicole was finally fast asleep and I was able put her back into the bassinet in our bedroom without waking her, hoping that she'd sleep until at least 7:00 A.M.

This same scene was repeated for the next several nights.  I again prayed for respite, and again it was slow to come.  Strangely, however, I did not feel any kind of anger or irritation with Nicole or the situation.  I distinctly remember thinking how grateful I was to be the father of seven children, and rather than getting upset, I felt it a privilege to be able to hold my little girl and try to console her.  I was tired, wishing I could sleep, and dreading going to work, but by the second night, my prayers started changing from just pleading for relief to expressing sincere gratitude as well.

I am thankful that rather than giving me what I wanted, namely sleep, Heavenly Father instead blessed me to be able to be calm and accepting of the circumstance, and helped me to sense the 'big picture' and put things into proper perspective.

Despite the doctor's simple ear infection diagnosis, both Cathy and I felt uneasy about Nicole, though I can't really express why.  I don't know...there were times during this period when Nicole would look at Cathy or me with penetrating eyes, pleading eyes, as if she were trying to say, "Please, please help me mommy.  Please help me daddy."  We were uneasy, but we didn't comprehend that Nicole was slowly dying.

On Thanksgiving, as we were returning home from dinner with Cathy's family in SLC, Cathy said to me that she felt that Nicole wouldn't always be with us, and I immediately felt she was right.  It wasn't necessarily that we felt that her departure from this life was imminent, but I had a clear sense of foreboding when Cathy voiced her feelings.  We talked about it a little, trying to understand why we felt that way and what it meant, but no answers were forthcoming.

Eleven more days and a couple doctor visits later, the doctor pronounced that the ear infection was finally gone (this was Monday, 12/5/2011), and on that particular day, Nicole did seem to be doing better.  By Tuesday night, though, she was back to being worse and we were getting worried again.  However, she still had a couple days left on a strong antibiotic whose side-effects were irritability and lethargy, so we decided we'd let that finish-up, with the expectation that we'd see noticeable improvement after that.

On Wednesday afternoon (12/7/2011), as Cathy was bathing Nicole, she noticed numerous tiny purple dots all over Nicole's body (we now recognize these as petechiae - caused by bleeding under the skin as a result of low blood platelets).  The dots made Cathy nervous but she didn't want to panic, so she waited until that evening when I got home to show them to me.  By that time (about 7:30 P.M.), even aside from the purple dots, Nicole looked very sick, and Cathy and I were both filled with anxiety.  However, since we'd already been to the doctor three times in two weeks and he'd seen her just two days ago, we talked ourselves into waiting overnight, and then we'd take her to the doctor in the morning if she wasn't improved.

By about 9:45 P.M., Nicole looked visibly worse than she had just two hours before, and as Cathy finished nursing, Nicole spit-up some dried blood, which finally galvanized us into action.  I started getting things ready to take Nicole into the emergency room, and Cathy called our doctor at his home.  The doctor agreed that we should take her to the hospital, and suggested Nicole might be dehydrated, since her appetite had been suppressed for quite a while, presumably due to the ear infection (this was yet another masked symptom).

Cathy stayed at home to be with the rest of our children, and as I drove to the hospital with Nicole, I could hardly take my eyes off her in the rear-view mirror.  I felt an even stronger sense of foreboding than I had on Thanksgiving.  I didn't understand what was happening, but I knew something was terribly wrong with my little girl, and I was praying for Heavenly Father to please help us.  I didn't know it at the time, but Nicole was truly approaching the point of death at that point; if we had waited until the next morning to act, it would probably have been too late.

Nicole was admitted into the ER at Logan Regional Hospital at about 10:30 P.M.  The nurse took vitals and put in an IV to draw a blood sample and to give her fluid.  Our family doctor called the ER and asked the doctor on call to keep him updated.

By about 11:00 P.M., I felt very calm.  I was thinking, "Yeah, it probably is just dehydration; we'll have an overnight stay here at the hospital, and then put this whole thing behind us."  The terrible anxiety I had felt just an hour earlier was completely gone.  I called Cathy at about this time and told her that they didn't know what was wrong yet, but that it was probably dehydration like our family doctor said.

So we both felt relieved for a little while, but that illusion was shattered about thirty minutes later when the ER doctor came in and said they'd gotten some test results back from the blood sample, and that they had been consulting with a doctor at Primary Children's Medical Center (PCMC) in SLC.

Then, as near as I can recollect, the doctor said, "Your daughter has Leukemia or some other type of blood disease, but either way, it is very serious and a Life Flight helicopter is on its way to take her to Primary Children's."

In that instant, my whole world just disintegrated.

I looked at the doctor for a moment, and then I think I said, "Ok."  I looked down at my little girl, trying to process what I'd been told.  I was numb, and couldn't think straight.  There were no tears, no emotion, just some half-formed questions swirling around in my head, but I was unable to actually formulate a coherent thought, much less say anything.  Perhaps I did say something else, but I don't recall.  The doctor and nurse left the room, and after a couple minutes, I pulled out my cell phone and called Cathy.  I told her what I had been told, and said that I would come and get her as soon as the helicopter left and we'd drive to PCMC together.  Then I cried a little.

Our family doctor arrived at the ER shortly after that, around midnight.  He is a good man, and it was good of him to come to the hospital.  We talked some, but I was in shock.  I don't have much recollection of anything that was said after the ER doctor's initial pronouncement, but our family doctor stayed with me until I left the hospital.

Life Flight arrived around 1:00 A.M. and they quickly prepared Nicole for her journey.  Everyone was very professional, but I got the sense from both the hospital staff and the Life Flight nurses that they were very worried about getting Nicole to PCMC, like they were racing some invisible clock that I couldn't see.  I got to squeeze Nicole's hand briefly before they finished packaging her up for the flight, and she looked at me with those penetrating eyes, and then I walked with the nurses as they took her to the helicopter.  It took-off around 1:30 A.M.  I watched the helicopter lift-off, said goodbye to our family doctor, and immediately rushed home to get Cathy.  Finally, away from the hospital, away from people, it hit me hard; my pent-up emotions turned on and I wept bitterly as I drove back home.

For both Cathy and me, that early, early morning drive was the longest drive to Salt Lake City ever.  We would alternately talk a little, then be silent in our own thoughts and prayers for a while.  In my mind, I was asking Heavenly Father for understanding.  I was asking Him if this was the end for Nicole, asking if we were going to lose her.  I remembered what Cathy said at Thanksgiving, and how I'd felt then, and how I'd felt when I was driving Nicole to the hospital earlier that night.  I pleaded with Heavenly Father to at least let us say goodbye, at least let our family say goodbye to her, and to help us to accept His will in this thing.  My heart was breaking inside me - I knew that Nicole could leave us at any time.  I was trying to find the courage to say in my heart, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."  But I just couldn't quite do it.

Then, on I-15 South, on the stretch of freeway where the city of Layton blends into the city of Kaysville, God said to me, "You will have her for a time."

"You will have her for a time."  It was not an audible voice that spoke those words, but rather the clear, unmistakable voice of the Spirit.  "You will have her for a time."  What does that mean?  Hours?  Days?  Years?  No answer, no response.  What does it mean?  I didn't know then, and I don't fully know now...  But the Spirit has whispered promises to me since then, and I know that God's promises are sure.  I know that our Heavenly Father speaks to us, His children, and we can feel His voice when we are truly listening. 

Nicole (four-and-a-half months old) at PCMC, late in the afternoon of December 8, 2011.  By this time, the doctors had been able to stabilize her sufficiently that they were willing to attempt surgery to place some peripheral access lines for dialysis, and a central line for chemotherapy.