My earliest memory of Margaret was sitting on our red couch,
beside my mother with Marg on the other side. She was a sweet little three year-old.
I was five and learning to read. I loved my time with mom. Things would go well
until I reached a difficult word. Like “surprise”. I had a few problems; I had
trouble saying my ‘r’s and wanted to say it ‘cowectwy’. If I mispronounced the
word, my mother would ‘cowect’ me and I hated that. This would make me
hesitate. I also stuttered a little, and I am a bit dyslexic. If you put too
many vowels or consonants in a row they mix up in my head. I would hesitate a
word like ‘surprise’ wanting to say it just right and get both r’s, and before
I could say “surprise” or “supwise”, Marg would take her thumb out of her mouth
and say, “surprise”.
I hated that.
Mom loved it. She would brag to her friends and family about her little three year-old prodigy that could read better than her older brother. It was not one of my favorite memories, but we all fall on the altar of comedy at some point, and in my family there is no shame in making mistakes, if they are funny.
Marg and I had many great memories. She
and I became partners in many ways. She was brilliant, as smart and anyone in
the family, probably smarter. She had a great gift with language. She could
spell anything, conjugate in her sleep, and could write beautifully. I was good
at math, science and loved history. I found my papers were much better if I
talked with her before writing them. And she was a great editor. She would come
to me for help with math or science, which she loathed.
As we were two years apart, we went to junior
high and high school together for one year. Her seventh grade and sophomore
years were good ones for her. Especially the sophomore year. I remember we were
talking in the afternoon on the day before school started that year and
wondering where the summer had gone. We had such plans just a few weeks ago and
now the time was gone and we hadn’t had any epic adventures. Tomorrow someone
would ask, “What did you do this summer?” “Watch TV” would be our answer. That
simply would not do. We needed to act, and act now. To seize the day! We
decided a service project was in order. We would paint the stairs, not just
paint them, but make them a work of art. Pink paint. Mom had gallons of a
loathsome ‘Candy Pink’ she’d bought to do the bathroom and we disliked it. It
was more of a ‘Pepto-Bismol’ pink than ‘candy’. Since we did not want to be
caught - er, I mean interrupted, we decided to do it after Mom went to bed.
This meant the oil based paint would not be dry by the time we needed to leave
for early morning seminary, so we needed something to step on. Something that
could be put on as part of the design. We headed to Gibson’s. I remembered they
had decals of animals to decorate campers. We were going to get some fish, but
ended up with two pheasants and two blue cow heads. I have never seen a blue
cow, nor seen a blue cow head decal on a camper, but I know they sold at least
two of them.
It was brilliant. We were about four
steps down when Dad opened the door to come down and tell us goodnight. I
looked up and said, “Don’t tell Mom, it’s a surprise!” I said it correctly, too
– not ‘supwise’. He closed his eyes for a second and said good night. Those
stairs stayed pink for about ten years. It is one of my favorite memories.
Not all of my memories are good ones,
but we measure a life based on what we overcome, not on what we accomplish. Our
failures are more valuable than our successes. This is how we grow. I know a
lot about failure; I do it frequently, just ask my wife. I take great comfort
in Ether 12. Moroni is worried about his weakness in writing. Here is a great
warrior and prophet who is sharing his fears and weaknesses.
And
when I had said this, the Lord spake unto me, saying: Fools mock,
but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall
take no advantage of your weakness;
And
if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness.
I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves
before me, and have faith in me, then will
I make weak things become strong unto them.
Behold …
I will show unto them that faith,
hope and charity bringeth unto me—the fountain of all righteousness.
Marg and I sometimes talked about scriptures and this was one of
our favorites. She especially understood the part about charity. Marg was a
great aunt and sister. She had a knack for doing small acts of kindness. When
my son, Andrew, was born, Marg and Joanne came up and cleaned my house while
Naomi took a nap. They timed it so when Marg started to vacuum, waking Naomi,
she distracted her while Joanne changed the sheets and towels in our bedroom
and bath.
Marg faced many challenges. Like all of us, she had weaknesses;
her health was not the least of them. Mostly, I think Marg faced fear. As a
child, she and I were both fearful. I compensated by being a showoff and
demanding of attention. She shrank into the back ground. She was a shy and
fearful little girl.
Stonewall Jackson was planning with commanders during the Civil War
when one of his officers said, “I fear we will not find our wagons tonight.”
Stonewall’s reply rings just as true today as it did one hundred and fifty
years ago. “Never take counsel from your fears.”
As Marg grew older, so did many of her fears.
My regrets in life are not from what I have done, it is from what
I did not do. Like that last day of summer when we decided we needed to paint
the stairs. I’ve never regretted that. I do regret the many summers I spent
doing nothing; or worse, not acting, out of fear. Fear that others would
ridicule, or that my efforts would not be good enough. I nearly missed my
mission and my marriage because I was afraid to act.
Most of our fears are normal and common. But there are fears that
transcend that. I first realized how difficult things were for Margaret ten
years ago. I was in an accounting class and was well prepared for the exam -
that was when I froze. I locked up. I could not remember what I had learned or
how to do it. I read the first problem and said “Easy, I just need to …” and
could not recall. I went on to the second, and third, and fourth. There were
seven problems and I could not start any of them. I just kept getting worse.
Somehow I figured out how to do one, and then two, and finally finished, three
and a half hours after starting. I was devastated. I came home and woke my
wife, looking for comfort. Not a good idea. Naomi dearly loves her sleep. She was less than sympathetic. “You had a bad
day, go to sleep!” It took weeks to get my composure back. Two years later this
occurred again. I had a new job, and it wasn’t just a test. I started
struggling with things I had been doing just a few weeks earlier. I started
having trouble sleeping, lost my appetite - a big deal for me! Nothing was fun
anymore. I finally saw a doctor and went on medication for anxiety.
I called Margaret and told her about it and how hard it was for
me. I apologized for judging her so many times. She said, “Welcome to my head.”
Margaret suffered from mental illness. She was bipolar and would
run through cycles of mania and depression. In a maniac mood, her impulse
control would fail her and she would do things she would regret later, she was
especially vulnerable when shopping. In her depressions, these errors would be
magnified. Guilt and failure would wear her down. Sometimes she would self-medicate
to try to adjust. This led to problems with drugs and alcohol. I saw her
failings all too well, but until I suffered that bout of anxiety and depression
I did not understand. Even after that I did not really understand, but I had
more sympathy. I once read her Nephi’s lament (2 NE 4):
My
heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that
I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of
my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.
And when I desire to rejoice, my heart
groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.
… why should I yield to sin, because
of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have
place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry
because of mine enemy?
Awake my soul! No longer droop in
sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
Here is prophet who accomplished more in his youth than I will in
my entire life, proclaiming he is wretched. A man who went back for the plates,
built a ship, crossed an ocean, and founded a nation, who sorrows because of
his flesh and iniquities. Perhaps Nephi was more like us than we think. Nephi
continues in the following verses to build himself up. He counts his blessings
and thanks the Lord for them. It is good advice. My wife used to keep a
gratitude journal. One memorable entry read, “Ray wore socks and a tie to
church today.” She must be very proud of me today - socks, tie, and a suit coat.
Marg recognized her blessings, she knew in whom she could trust,
but these temptations easily beset her and she was at times truly lost. Ten or
fifteen years ago I would not have been surprised to receive a call early in
the morning telling me she had passed away. I’m ashamed to say I gave up on
her. But the Lord did not. He knew Margaret and her heart. He waited on her,
and when the time was right, He helped her.
About eight years ago, Marg was at a low point. Welfare services was
working with her and a court ordered some changes. Marg got a lot of help,
friends and family responded. Her sister, Mary, traveled from Omaha and spent a
few weeks with her. Mary has a PhD and was teaching Family and Child Development
at the time. She helped Marg understand the orders and clean up the house. She calmed
her and helped her through the beginning.
I thought Margaret would do the least possible to keep Esme in the
home, but I was wrong. Her love for Esme
was the catalyst she needed to change. She
started going beyond the minimums. She started using the court ordered testing
and reviews as way to improve. About two years ago, she told me she had gone
six years without drugs or alcohol. What a remarkable change! And it wasn’t the
only change. She worked harder on her health. She got better control of her
medications and found a doctor that helped her adjust them to help her mania,
depression, and impulse control. It was not a sudden change. It was slow and
with setbacks, but she kept at it. She kept picking herself up when she failed.
Last year, she called me to tell me about the cancer. It was not
good. We watched my mother die of this same disease. We hoped for good results.
I hoped she would respond and see Esme graduate from high school. She did not, and we adjusted our hopes and
expectations. She was able to attend two nieces’ weddings and did well at them,
but we could tell she was suffering. After Rachel’s wedding, I shaved my head
and told her I’d keep it shaved for her till the end. I was hoping to get a nice
sunburn this summer. We posed for silly pictures, rubbed each other’s shiny
domes, and compared funny head lumps. It showed Marg always kept her sense of humor.
But Marg did something really remarkable in the last year. Fear
had dominated her whole life, but she faced death with remarkable dignity and
grace. I was really stunned by many of our conversations. Her focus started to
change more and more toward Esme and Joanne. Physically she was falling apart,
but her mental, emotional, and spiritual health was improving - and improving
dramatically.
Last week, we talked on the phone and she expressed the fear that
she had not been good enough, that she would not be with Mom and Dad. I told her
“The Parable of the Lord of the Vineyard”. He hired workers in the morning, and at midday
he hired more, and at the last hour he hired still more, and when the day was
done, he rewarded each of the workers with the same payment. Those that worked
an hour were paid the same as those who worked the whole day. Marg commented
that it was not fair. I said it wasn’t about money, it was about mercy. Christ
has paid for our salvation and whether we work an hour, or our whole lives, the
payment is still salvation. I asked her if she regretted changing, if she
wished she could have a few more wild days. She said no, she was miserable
then, she wished she could have changed years earlier.
This is the key: yesterday is dead. It always will be, but today
we can change. Today we can overcome our fears and do something, something with
more meaning than painting the stairs pink. In the last year Margaret fought a good fight,
and not just against cancer.
If any of you fear, if any of you suffer as Margaret did with
anxiety or depression, if you have weaknesses that easily beset you, know that
these things can be made strong. Seek help. Margaret had limited options when
she started this battle. She was a pioneer in some ways. There are better
doctors, services, medications and help today than there was when she started
on this hard twisted path. She saw it through - and with love, and help, and
Christ’s grace, you can too.
I
will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my
Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you
up. (D&C 84: 88).
Margaret is not gone; she is just a heartbeat away. She is with
her parents, her Aunt Joy, the grandma she was named for, her mother, Mamie, and all the other powerful dynamic people who
have gone before and loved and cared for our family. They are rejoicing in her
life and her special challenges. They can see how Margaret’s illnesses were not
just a burden to be carried, but an opportunity to grow and learn. I can see
Margaret exclaiming, “It is so good to be here, to not be in pain, to be able
to really think clearly again and see things as they really are.” No matter who
we are, or how much we accomplish, or whatever service we give in this life, at
the end it will be the same. We will find ourselves crossing the veil and being
able to see things as they really are.
