I Love the Mountains: May 2021

A long time ago, in physics class, I learned --with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

So, after celebrating a beautiful birthday and then a visit of four grandchildren--to homeschool, interact, connect, explore, serve and appreciate a marvelous world--why would it be a surprise to find valley views after those from glorious mountaintops?

At the end of March and early April, after finishing yard plumbing,

we commemorated Easter, (grateful for a Savior with healing in His wings, to save us from our falls!)

and celebrations lauding Grandpa and grandchildren

--a seven-year-old grandson and two nine-year-old granddaughters.

Very soon afterward, some Washington grandchildren needed a stopping place during a convention for their parents. The children learn at home, which I admit ahead of time, I lost a little sleep over: Would they learn? Would they get along? Would they miss Mom and Dad?

Like the Sesame Street character who worried about the “monster at the end of the book” we ultimately found everything surprisingly doable rather than daunting.

Maybe it came from studying the Beatitudes—somehow each of the children found their way into each other’s heart and into ours.

Quarreling was not an issue. Together, we spelled, added, subtracted, pasted together historical dioramas, and memorized scriptures (head beneath the feet for an upside down, amazing five-year old, trying to keep up with and outspell her seven-, twelve- and thirteen-year-old siblings.)

Who can argue with a nature walk to the pond?

An eight-in-the-evening game of Boggle?

Daytime checkers?

Delectable food?

Bath time bubbles?

Sidewalk chalk?

Mosaic musings?

Hanging out in hammocks?

Basketball “HORSE” competitions?

Frisbee free-for-all friend-making

with neighborhood animals and children?

(How do you like our neighbors' colors? They radiate, and we follow!)

(Each time we make visits, we get great ideas!)

How do you top taking a tour of (given from a parking lot across the street from)

the world’s sixth highest temple?

Together time viewing a video about Christ, The Chosen,

or walking to and from a “cousin” house?

(What do you do when things are a little noisier than normal?!)

Can you do better than a picnic?

a long table dinner?

or a family tour of pioneer homesteads?

Or hike across rocky beaches on Antelope Island?

Signs of future difficulty first showed after our Friday meal, when son and granddaughter needed naps with headache.

Waffles with Great Grandma, Saturday morning,

then, after our buffalo adventure, cleaning leaves and branches with Aunt Marlene

and swinging from branch to stream

in the hollow at Great Grandma’s finally ended in packing,

games together for the young at heart,

along with an early Sunday morning breakfast and quick goodbyes,

whisked away a masked son wanting to avoid contact, wondering if there was something in the air.

The next morning, Monday, April 19^th, Grandpa was very tired, sporting a moderate temperature. Sleep. More sleep. No appetite. The whole world has been doing corona virus panic for over a year, why not Starkeys?

(However, Starkeys often choose to do things when they are less "in vogue.")

Monday evening, prompted by a call from our youngest— “There is a corona virus testing clinic open tonight, what if you go?" We went.

After a beastly application process, scrambling to pick the proper test—PCR or rapid antigen--we ultimately decided on the rapid test, with coaching. Both tests were completed. Only one came back. (The one that was incorrect.) After receiving an immediate “negative” from Val’s rapid antigen, Grandma brandished the emailed results on the screen in order to confirm it would be "safe" to visit sleepy granddaughters.

How could we miss bedtime reading time to three-year-old twins on course to read 1000 books before kindergarten? —along with a cousin who ever refuses to be left in the dust?!

Meanwhile, Grandpa slept. And chilled. And slept. And slept. And ached. And slept. And coughed. And slept. And chilled some more.

Wednesday, our children in Washington informed us by text that our son tested “corona virus affirmative” and was at a local hospital being screened for blood clots. This news skirted everyone into action--praying, packing, preparing to head to safety.

Thursday, after panicking, then packing and planting (with Grandma--hoping to see our family off without hovering close)

everyone at the other household on the east of the technical college sod farm drove to Davis Applied Technical College to test--again rapid antigen. Two were positive--our nurse son-in-law (his second bout) and youngest twin granddaughter, who learned her plight on the way home to New Mexico.

Later, our poor nine-year-old, basking in her third isolation period, learned she, too, was positive. She got to quarantine with Papa, which was not all bad—to bond, overcoming boredom with tablet games and giggles.

Meanwhile, Laurene planted seeds,

picked dandelions,

cooked meals that

forgot to be eaten,

cleaned,

prayed, worried, wondered, and checked to make sure the man in the bed was still warm.

She also accepted concerned calls from Val’s sister, who refused to let a 50^th wedding adventure to Hawaii keep her from coaching and caring for an ailing younger brother. Sherryl knew about checking oxygen and temperature. Sister Marlene filled prescriptions, hunted electrolyte fluids,

(Doesn't that line up make you want to drink in color?)

coached in breathing. Davis County Health called. Doctors weighed in. Both Laurene, then Val, received vaccinations.

And Laurene studied Jacob 5, asking aloud, “What more could have I done for my vineyard (husband)?” How could a person keep from rethinking what (in the five days between a birthday that qualified Grandpa to receive the vaccination, and arrival of company) more could I have done? What more can we do now? Every action seemed tragically belabored and belated. However, between learning and praying and wishing and hoping, Grandpa has earned the Bernstein Bear award for sleeping the most! (What if we change Grandpa’s name to begin with Z instead of V? (Zzzzzzz.) Or with R for Rip Van Winkle?)

Val did wake one morning, just over two weeks after seriously hitting his pillow, to learn that a beloved Toyota Corolla, our kind neighbor had located for us and helped us to purchase over Skype as we were returning from Guatemala in 2016, was on the last leg of its third and fourth cylinders.

So, along with the beatitudes, we are learning with our eldest granddaughter about another man, who tried to choose well when faced with trials: “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

In-person Relief Society Wednesday

taught us that when we are sad, it is good to listen to sad music, validating our sadness. Carefully, hymns I sing at night have moved from, Come Ye Disconsolate and Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow…”

"I will fear no evil,

for Thou art with me."

Lessons learned: It has taken a month to begin bouncing back. Val is still working to stand up on the inside, but he is finding joy in a beloved conference Liahona that made its way into our mailbox.

We are learning that holding on, and waiting is sacred space.

Kind neighbors and family have shared avocados, bananas, casseroles, flowers and brownies (there is a debate over who will eat the brownies. Grandpa has always said, chocolate turns your insides brown!”) Most importantly, there has been prayer.

Fasting. Priesthood blessings. Kind words.

(If you look closely, the kitchen window is asking for "gentle speak"!)

Phone calls. Video calls. Lawns mowed. Gatorade, broccoli, eggs, and rose hips. (How did we not know that roses have hips?)

Val is learning the importance of moving feet while sleeping. They are called leg pumps. In hospitals, according to the University of Utah Emergency Department, long periods of rest need to be accompanied by regular foot movement.

Not having done this before, we forgot. Gratefully, pain in his left calf ( a little before, but mostly following his second doctor checkup and vaccination) prompted my Uncle Laurence, Dr. Gee, to point us to an ultrasound, which located two blood clots (or deep vein thrombosis) in the left popliteal vein.

(A favorite part of our visit to the Emergency Department, for me, was having Val decide that the makers of the hospital gown should be prosperous, because the design was so attractive!)

Val's primary care doctor told us that we were extremely blessed to find the problem early. (A friend of mine has a family member who was not as fortunate.) Blood thinners, kind pharmacists from the thrombosis clinic, plus attentive doctors, have been working to keep the clot in place while Val’s marvelous body works to heal itself. We are grateful for life.

In the midst of affliction, our cup runneth over—with pomegranate electrolyte juice, berry smoothie, and promise of continuing connections.