tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57264878834766046512024-02-07T19:31:13.935-08:00~~~LIFE REINVENTED~~~LIFE REINVENTEDAmanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-42256132418713016982020-08-31T10:04:00.007-07:002020-12-05T10:56:01.060-08:00My Gold<p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still -Exodus 14:14. </i></p><p><span face="roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">Marshall was a cloud gazer. He was often telling me what different shapes of animals, trees, even God's eyelashes he could see in the clouds above him. I think in fact, he was tuning out of the outer world in order to allow the inner intuitive mind to drift and dream. The art of being still and imagining a better, beautiful world seems to be further and further away from our society. I did this often in my childhood and I think it is something I need to start doing again; to forget the conditions, the lines I'm not supposed to color through, to play and color past the lines again. I need to educate my heart more instead of just my mind.</span></p><p><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;"><i>"</i>Real doing comes from stillness -- not endless busyness or even reading". One moment where I felt exposed, raw, and visceral was the moment I birthed my son. I threw off all my clothes and had my husband throw- not lightly sprinkle, but THROW ice in my face. That moment strengthened my soul in a way words can't describe. When Kezman was put in my arms, I felt as if I was powerful enough to hold the whole world in my arms and care for it. A primal moment that no technology or virtual connection could touch. I had a birthing music playlist that added to the moment being the closest to existentialism I've ever experienced in my own body. I remember his blue body being limp and I was wondering if he had survived the grueling days of contractions and hours of posterior pushing. </span></p><p><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">They wouldn't allow Marshall to cut the umbilical chord and quickly whisked our baby to the neonatal unit since his Apagar score was a 2. That was the day his dad said his son had his first experience of becoming a gentleman. Kezman's Apagar score rose to an 8 after meconium was removed from his nose and throat. As quickly as they whisked him away, our son gave up his neonatal bed for another baby girl who was born very prematurely and would be in the unit a long time. He came back and I remember his pink skin, looking at all his hair, and being happy that it looked like he had acquired his mother's nose and toes. Feeling his smooth skin and his baby breath was euphoric. For a moment in my life, my soul was balanced. I felt like a bird in flight, soaring above the pain, the sweat, blood and the tears up, up, above the clouds and so happy to be looking down from my place in the sky. It didn't matter what happened next or before...all that mattered was that moment. I had created something that was more valuable to me than gold is to the alchemist that made it. </span></p><p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17.5px;">"Stay at your table and listen. Don't even listen, just wait, be completely quiet and alone. The world will offer itself to you to be unmasked." -- Kafka</i></p>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-90034162119375307522020-08-14T14:51:00.003-07:002020-08-14T14:56:25.795-07:00Heal<p> <i style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17.5px;">"It is returning, at last it is coming home to me -- my own Self and those parts of it that have long been abroad and scattered among all things and accidents." - Nietzsche</i></p><p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17.5px;"><br /></i></p><p><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 17.5px;">I am healing a splitting wound. I am on a healing journey that turned into a dramatic roller coaster for the last five turns (years), but the stabilization post the ups and downs has been difficult to obtain within myself. Sometimes I re-live these negative ups and downs instead of putting them behind me and re-inventing the life I had planned with Marshall. I desire to be enabled by his memory instead of disabled by it. I have the power to choose my attitude in any given circumstances as Marshall taught me all too well.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">“A man is literally what he thinks, his character being the complete sum of all his thoughts.”</span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px;">― </span><span class="authorOrTitle" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold;">James Allen, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px;"></span><span id="quote_book_link_81959" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px;"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1840987" style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;">As a Man Thinketh</a></span></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17.5px;">So in order to fully heal I must change my thoughts from within. In order to be empowered, these memories of Marshall must have meaning and the way I choose to <i>VIEW </i>our story must have purpose. Right before the pandemic, I took a trip to Palm Springs (which is now a squelching 122 degrees!) and saw the following quote in a quaint, wooden restroom outside the time traveling Integratron: </span></span><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">A Native American grandfather is talking to his grandson about how he feels about a tragedy in their village. "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson asks, "Grandfather, which wolf will win the fight in your heart?" The grandfather places his hand on his heart and replies, "The one I feed."</span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">How do we learn to feed the good wolves in our lives? How can I personally feed our story so that the tragedy my son and I experience in our lives of not having his father can be one of healing and growth; of learning and re-inventing? I attended a life-changing class at that retreat in Palm Springs. It was not the class that focused on social media, it wasn't the one that used all the fancy gadgets and high technology mediums, nor was it the one that taught me to make all the money. </span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">No.</span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">It was the simple, down to earth class taught by a <a href="http://helloesperanza.com/" target="_blank">beautiful member</a> of a tribe in Palm Springs. She guided me to a place where I truly believed that my story was MAGIC! Including the tragic parts. Including the parts that may not have been as beautiful that made the otherwise simple, normal parts appear even more beautiful. If I can believe that my tragic story is beautiful after hearing that I am living someone's worst nightmare, then YOU can believe you have magic in your story too! No matter what your home, your community, your tribe looks like we each have the power to make our world great! The stories we tell ourselves have just as much power as our biology and environment.</span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">What walls (stories) have we built up around ourselves that we can't escape, that tower all around us? Are we also telling ourselves that these walls can't fall? We don't need to be hard on ourselves for building them. At the time we built them they protected us from harm. Becoming aware of them and deciding if they still need to be there or not is a step in the right direction. Do we need the trumpets that played in Jericho millions of years ago to make our walls fall? </span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">No.</span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">We simply need to know that WE are the creator of our own lives. That WE have the power to DO the things that make a difference in our perspective and deciding how we view the world and the way the world works. Life is short and what we do with the little time we have here matters. It matters that you give instead of take. It matters that true joy comes from unlocking others' joy instead of focusing on what we get.</span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">As I think of going through this pandemic without Marshall and making decisions for my son without him, I see that my emotions have taken another rollercoaster ride. I am getting off the ride, stepping back and re-inventing our story. What I lack in my perspective is that I have the power to decide whether today is a time of tumult, of stomping around blowing rams horns until the cities walls fall down and the city is burned or if today is a time to step off the ride.</span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">The stomping around, rioting, etc. are not an exaggeration. They happened in cities around the world. In LA where we moved here from, the city went on total lock down and the national guard was present. In Chicago where I currently attend online school, the students aren't welcome to live on campus and rioting is still present. The population to be hardest hit by this virus where I live is the Navajo nation in Page, Arizona. Many of us are shut up inside due to the coronavirus just like the time of Jericho. Trumpets literally fell from angel's hands during this pandemic due to earthquakes. </span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">Step back and ask yourself how you will tell this story of tumultuous times. Will it be from the perspective of a victim? Did you suffer sickness or loss? We lost the rock of our family five years ago and are still rebuilding. As we grow further from 2020 and you have some distance from it all how will your version of the story change? How are you living today to give that story a positive spin?</span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">I have had five years since Marshall died and my version of our story is changed. In my heart, I am more grateful for the time I had instead of dismayed by the time I lost. The pain is still there, but I will choose to have a painting of beauty from the ashes. We all need different amounts of time to process our experiences, grief, and hardships to ultimately discover the nuggets of joy that lie along our journey and find healthier patterns than we previously lived. The negativity doesn't leave. I may not ever move on from the pain, but I am discovering my pain can lie dormant as I build happier, healthier moments and patterns on top of the hurt. Have compassion for yourself and others who haven't yet moved on from the negativity and who are embracing unhealthy patterns still. Let's teach each other to slowly feed the good wolves instead of the bad wolves.</span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">For Jericho, for Marshall, for our tribes, for our world. It is time to reinvent and rebuild. Our cities, our minds, our world won't look the way they did before and that is where the beauty lies! In order to re-emerge anew the views will be different and heal our splitting wounds; changing our thoughts from within, visioning and creating a new story that is feeding the good wolves instead of the bad ones in each of us. </span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">"As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he". JA</span></span></div><div><span face="" style="font-family: roboto, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">AJ</span></span></div><div><span face="" style="background-color: white; font-family: roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-4076393088633430052020-01-22T05:16:00.001-08:002020-01-22T05:16:44.855-08:00Encouraging Widows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Encouraging Widows<br />
<br />
Well, I did it! I collaborated with 18 other women on my first book! It's available for purchase here: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Encouraging-Widows-Words-Women-Whove/dp/1711007560/ref=sr_1_2?crid=321ZYTQ2B5YDJ&keywords=encouraging+widows&qid=1579698854&sprefix=Encouraging+Widows%2Caps%2C499&sr=8-2">https://www.amazon.com/Encouraging-Widows-Words-Women-Whove/dp/1711007560/ref=sr_1_2?crid=321ZYTQ2B5YDJ&keywords=encouraging+widows&qid=1579698854&sprefix=Encouraging+Widows%2Caps%2C499&sr=8-2</a><br />
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This just kindled a fire in me to finish my own book this year.<br />
In 2020, my word is consistency. Consistency in writing, exercise, and especially with my son.</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-74880519368178137182019-09-19T21:17:00.001-07:002019-09-20T23:39:28.006-07:00Dear Rat Race<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Rat Race,<br />
<br />
Today I raise my white flag of surrender<br />
The older I get, the less 'stuff' I want<br />
Working endless hours with no time for life<br />
Is it worth the hours taken from family to buy, buy, buy?<br />
<br />
Today I watched a "house tour" on Youtube<br />
The tour already has 2 Million Views<br />
The home could comfortably house 5 families<br />
Alas, there are 3 people who live there<br />
<br />
Juxtapose that to my afternoon class<br />
I spent an hour discussing health issues<br />
People who are smart, but can't afford a place<br />
Because of their zip code!<br />
<br />
The exact same number of homeless people in LA<br />
Match the number of empty "luxury" apartments--<br />
Complexes that sit empty because no one can afford them<br />
I've been spending 3.5 years trying to make sense of life again.<br />
<br />
Ridiculous Rat Race!<br />
I'm raising my white flag.<br />
Cleanliness and adequate.<br />
Peace Out!!<br />
<br />
This may Be oversimplified, but it’s what you give not what you get.</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-86765189305772294182019-03-07T13:07:00.002-08:002019-03-08T06:29:56.937-08:00Ensuring Genetic Perfection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What is genetic perfection? When are gene edits too much? How many flaws will medicine allow until we achieve an acceptable amount of editing human DNA? Eighty thousand genes spread among twenty six hominid chromosomes complicate our search for the answers to these questions.<br />
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<a href="https://www.wsj.com/articles/who-reacts-to-chinese-gene-edited-twins-with-plan-for-global-guidelines-11550736189">This month a new world committee established by the World Health Organization will be meeting to establish more guidelines after the first Chinese gene edits on baby twins.</a> The first test tube baby was produced in 1978. Just as people were shocked and afraid of the new technology then, similar reactions are happening now. Mankind is discovering more about the creation and editing of life. As in many areas of our rapidly changing world, we must take the time to analyze when and how some steps forward have the possibility of morphing into steps backward. Cellular phone usage is an example where technology can be more addictive than smoking <i>and</i> be used for grandiose positive world change at the same time. The usage and ultimate consequences of gene editing are a double edged sword analogous to cell phone usage--both having favorable and unfavorable outcomes.<br />
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First, mothers' experience with their gene-edited babies is sure to be full of anguish. Gene edits mock the very DNA of the parents who create their children. The simple joys of differences in human experience may be replaced by devastating sorrow if their babies are not "perfect". Speculate on what perfection is and how boring the world would be if we were to rid humanity of our so-called flaws. In fact, flaws nearly dominate many of the greatest men who have ever lived: <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/science/science-news/10925794/The-genetic-secret-behind-Abraham-Lincolns-towering-success.html">Abraham Lincoln's marfan syndrome,</a> Stephen Hawkins' amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, the alleged <a href="http://www.albert-einstein.org/article_handicap.html">handicaps of Albert Einstein,</a> Isaac Newton's and <a href="http://www.alexhonnold.com/">Alex Honnold's</a> probable <a href="https://www.verywellhealth.com/einstein-newton-and-asperger-syndrome-2860279">aspergers, etc.</a> Variation often make life exciting. Mankind learns to become compassionate towards others who hold contrasting views. My son's perspective and value of life has more meaning when he socializes with his cousin. Interacting with this little girl, who has little use of her legs teaches him patience and kindness to those who are different than himself. It teaches him gratitude without even saying a word. How else can these priceless lessons be learned? Are we taking away from the depth of human experience by taking away genetic flaws?<br />
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Secondly, let's explore the idea of using medical technology to correct genetic flaws. In-vitro fertilization and genetic makeup testing give hope to mothers dealing with infertility or who want to choose not to pass on certain genes. Admittedly, this idea may be difficult for one who has not experienced this circumstance, but not for a mother raising a child with health problems and development delays. The available technology is comforting. What can be wrong with offering hope? Professor Arthur Miller says, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98tdyumGp00">the technology is way in advance of legal understanding.</a> This also leads to the recent law passed in New York legalizing abortions <a href="https://thehill.com/opinion/healthcare/428927-why-new-york-may-come-to-regret-its-overreach-on-abortion">up to forty weeks.</a> What are the ramifications of this law for a mother carrying what she might consider to be a genetically flawed fetus? Our family experienced rays of hope when after two stem cell transplants we had the option of trying a t-cell therapy using gene-edits in t-cells in hopes of eradicating blood cancer cells.<br />
<br />
Finally, every step in genetic research is bold and full of unknown implications. Test-tube babies have been more widely accepted and used for in-vitro fertilization, and have provided hope for infertility issues. Will editing human DNA provide more hope? Falling down the medical rabbit hole allows us to admit that medical remedies are sometimes beyond our understanding in the field of bioethics and the law. I attended the 20th annual conference of the American Society for Bioethics and Humanities where one of the major legal addresses included reproduction and the assisted reproductive technologies and issues concerning vulnerable population including individuals with disabilities by Paul A. Lombardo, PhD, JD. The theme for the symposium was, "The Future is Now" mimicking the font from the well-known film "Back to the Future". Gene-editing is a type of time travel where we are predicting, even controlling, what will happen in the future. In some ways this is an appealing goal to obtain, but we must be judicious in our perspective of traits allowed and taken in life.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-12144431121699404092018-09-04T09:12:00.001-07:002018-09-04T09:12:30.382-07:00Music for Marshall 2018<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I muster up all my strength to lug the heavy keyboard back up that last stair. It is finished. Another year has come and gone and another Music for Marshall is over. It's the third one without him. Which means we are now even. Three with him alive and three with him dead. Cyndi pointed this out to me during the night and I had to wrap my feelings around that. I just can't believe it. Do I continue this tradition? He was the most fabulous performer and every year I miss his guitar skills and his musical abilities more and more. Something pushes me forward up the last stair as the feelings of missing him perform and singing with him overcomes my tired body. I fall in a crumpled mass on the couch at the top of the stairs and weep for what's been lost from our family.<br />
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His son was adamant about writing a song and performing it this year. I should prevail in this endeavor even if it's just to encourage my son to develop his musical abilities. Music will be something they can share together from either side of the veil and I hope he will feel a connection to his father as he discovers his talents.<br />
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Happy Birthday Marshall. You would have turned 34 today. We miss you every day.</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-72078657998037432912018-08-27T09:51:00.000-07:002018-08-27T09:51:05.468-07:00If We Are the Body<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Casting Crowns<br />
<br />
It's crowded in worship today<br />
As she slips in trying to fade into the faces<br />
The girls' teasing laughter is carrying farther than they know<br />
Farther than they know<br />
<br />
But if we are the body<br />
Why aren't His arms reaching?<br />
Why aren't His hands healing?<br />
Why aren't His words teaching?<br />
And if we are the body<br />
Why aren't His feet going?<br />
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?<br />
There is a way.<br />
<br />
A traveler is far away from home<br />
He sheds his coat and quietly sinks into the back row<br />
The weight of their judgmental glances<br />
Tells him that his chances are better out on the road<br />
<br />
JESUS PAID MUCH TOO HIGH A PRICE<br />
FOR US TO PICK AND CHOOSE WHO SHOULD COME<br />
AND WE ARE THE BODY OF CHRIST<br />
JESUS IS THE WAY</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-50622642896337447212018-08-21T07:46:00.001-07:002018-08-21T07:46:35.326-07:00Pointless Point of View<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's a time for space<br />
And a space for time<br />
I'm stuck somewhere<br />
In the middle<br />
And I can't make up my mind<br />
<br />
I try to want<br />
And I want to try<br />
But I'm stuck somewhere<br />
In the middle<br />
And I just keep<br />
Wondering why<br />
<br />
<br />
-Marshall Jensen</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-85264918969824314382018-03-18T23:23:00.000-07:002018-03-19T07:02:29.152-07:00On My Journey Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"Each individual has inestimable worth and something unique to contribute to others"</div>
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-My Daddy David</div>
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Sometimes on the 18th day of the month, I yearn for home. I miss the warmth of family and friends in the mountains of Inkom and the streets of Woods Cross as I am here in my L.A. surroundings. I long for a home, the stability and contentment that I feel has eluded me like chasing a butterfly since Marshall's death. I don't think home is a place as much as a people.</div>
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Did you know some monarch butterflies go 3,000 miles every year back home? Or even more compelling is the arctic tern who travels 60,000 miles a year back to ANTARCTICA!? Hello!? Antarctica??? What's the appeal there in the freezing temperatures? I came to LA for some warmth. If I could talk to them I would love to ask them how in the world they know their way around the world without Siri. I can barely make it down the street without her. But more importantly I would like to ask them how in the world do they know where home is? I relate in that I can never forget the winding Rapid Creek roads back to the mountains of Inkom that were my home as a child. I even helped my grandpa McKee build some of those roads. I had no idea at the time how valuable it was for my wonderful grandfather to allow myself to be a female engineer at such a young age. Not the kind of engineer that has an engineering degree and gets paid loads of money for all their projects. The kind of engineer that is holding really expensive equipment in the middle of nowhere to be sure the road does not exceed a certain gradient for free for their dear grandpa that always gave his grandkids tootsie rolls. At that age, it was just practical and useful; not something I realized would be such a neat contribution to others on their trips up the steep canyon. Word of warning: cellular navigation is mostly non existent on the canyon roads. These country roads will serve for years to come, past his recent death and eventually past my own death, to bring people back home.</div>
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If one thinks of Lehi's dream and the long and arduous journey back home to the fruit is it really about the fruit or is it about the people who take the journey with us? For the monarch butterfly is it the place they are going or the other butterflies they are traveling with? Emerson said, "Life is a Journey, Not a Destination". Our most important acquaintance on our journey may be Christ who's been down this dark road before and knows the way toward the light. If you find yourself on the path needing to reacquaint or recommit yourself to Christ then do it now. What blessing do you really desire? More than anything else, good health, prosperity, success- I would like exaltation. With exaltation, no matter what things went wrong in this life or what wrong turns I made into darkness, detours I took, or back roads I followed before realizing they led to nowhere, I have a chance to figure out how it all works and map it out if I have forever. Oh how very grateful I am for the company other travelers give me on my detours and main roads instead of as a lone monarch butterfly fluttering aimlessly- 'minha mariposa' as Marshall would call me. Being stretched and painfully morphed into a whole different being is also a necessary part of our journey if we ever want the wings to fly back home. "Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow. Set me free to find my calling and I'll return to you somehow" Marta Keen.</div>
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When we see others along our journey home being morphed in their cocoon, shaped, polished, we need not judge, compare, or feel less than. Don't be distracted so much by the comings and goings of other travelers that you get run over in your own path or wander aimlessly and not learn and do what God intended for you to do on your journey. "No time to tarry here, no time to wait for you, no for I'm on my journey home". Bad things and pain happen to good people because He wants us to learn about His existence, His purposes, and His timing and become all that we can; to give us our own beautiful set of wings with their own unique and distinct set of markings unlike anyone else's. We won't learn those things or we will miss out on all that He wants us to become in our life if we are too distracted, too self-absorbed, or too busy flaunting our colors to reach out to others in the midst of their struggle to morph. We can get out of the dark and dreary parts of our journey home and find the light by focusing on others and helping them overcome their dark and dreary moments, by discovering and developing our own spiritual gifts, and by asking the Lord about what specific assignments he has for us to do just like the specific assignments my grandpa would give me while building roads.</div>
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You have divine assignments specific for you. The Lord has more in mind for you than you have in mind for yourself. If you are reading this asking yourself if you can make an important contribution to the world you can. Think of Stephen Hawking and all the limitations he had during his time in mortality. Yet, look at what he was able to accomplish! Write down what you're grateful for and do not let life's distractions eclipse the light you have to shine to others along the journey back home. Don't let rocky, steep mountains stop you from carving out the roads you were meant to build on your journey home. "If I could move this mountain before me, then I would lose the faith that He can do it for me".-Marshall Jensen. Marshall’s last words to his friends and family at the end of his epic journey were, “See you when we get Home”. How grateful I am that my grandpa McKee had the patience and took the time to allow me to contribute to the building of the roads of life. We each have an inestimable worth and something unique to contribute. </div>
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-83223045316267685702017-12-20T09:32:00.002-08:002017-12-20T09:33:46.648-08:00Lost<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's Winter in my mind,<br />
regardless of the season.<br />
Memories burn like footprints<br />
in the softly falling snow.<br />
Through a landscape cold and dreary<br />
Marks the winding path I chose.<br />
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Weary from the Journey<br />
I stop to catch my breath,<br />
And ponder where I'm traveling<br />
and why it was I left.<br />
A part of me I've left behind,<br />
A sacred part I cannot find.<br />
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So I turn back from whence I came<br />
And shudder in the Arctic frost.<br />
And I retrace my careless steps<br />
In search of where, my way, I lost.<br />
But time has drifted like a snowstorm<br />
And has buried deep my tracks.<br />
-Marshall Kenneth</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-27633863816538586952017-11-10T05:26:00.002-08:002017-11-10T09:17:17.530-08:00SAUDADES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I took a break for a while. A break from writing. A break from music. A break from the world. Marshall wrote a song once called A Break From the World. I wish I could ask him to play that song for me now. There isn’t an English word sufficient enough to describe how much Kez and I miss him. So I use this Brazilian word, saudades that comes closer to satisfying how much we yearn for his presence now. I've heard other widows and widowers say that the second year is harder than the first. YES! The second year was harder than the first without him. All the memories, holidays, anniversaries, birthdays happened without him and unlike last year where people went out of their way to stand by us through the hard days, this year we did them mostly alone.<br />
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I've had a whole lot of advice given to me this year. Many people telling me how to grieve, live, and to move on. The fact of the matter is that Kez and I will not move on. Not when Marshall's very blood runs through my son as a forever reminder of what we had, what we loved, and what we lost. Marshall was a big personality, a person who put effort into putting others above himself, a beautiful soul. November brings memories and anniversaries of our wedding day, his death date, viewing and funeral. For me it has already been an explosion of tears and unwelcome emotion as I navigate this month without him.<br />
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So as Kez and I slowly move forward, we will remember him in every heart beat, in every song, in every breath. Please let us talk about him. Use his name, talk about the happy times and the love and memories he left behind. This month especially but every month. We have some big changes coming that we hope will help us miserably wallow less in his memory and breathe and live a little more happily without him. The break is over and now is the time to write the book that's in my soul and to sing the music again. There have been many women and men who have lost their significant other this year through death, catastrophe, violence and there is a book I helped write called Encouraging Widows. I will give more details as it becomes available in the spring. Saudades. </div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-46522987449320832252017-04-07T21:47:00.003-07:002017-04-07T21:47:33.467-07:00Where Nothing Begins or Ends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
He forgives all that was not perfect<br />
He loves all who he never met<br />
He sings with you in your car rides<br />
He is of nature<br />
He is of friends<br />
He is of family<br />
He exists where nothing begins or ends<br />
He is the clarity in your daily meditation<br />
He is with you when decisions must be made<br />
He is with you in the high mountain<br />
He holds you on winter nights<br />
He fills the night with stars you can wish on<br />
He walks with you barefoot on summer grass<br />
He soothes your searching foot<br />
He encourages you to keep dreaming<br />
-Landon Gallant</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-13985215409186104232017-01-22T15:31:00.000-08:002017-01-22T15:40:36.904-08:00Remain Unafraid Amid the Rising Doubt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few months ago, I was asked to speak in an October Conference. I was pretty shocked and stoked at the same time. I was shocked because I had been widowed for less than a year and feeling like the weakest person in the whole stake. Stoked because I actually love public speaking. Though I have been through a whole lot in my thirty years, I still almost called them the night before to say I'm the last person who should be giving this talk. The Lord knows us and what we are going through personally and knows how we can grow the best in this short time on Earth. At least, I believe that if I'm not in a doubting moment. Here's the talk- initially, there were 22 pages of my ideas, but don't worry- I dwindled it down to 5- I'm a bit of a researcher on any topic:<br />
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"Jesus answered and said unto them. verily I say unto you if ye have faith and <u>doubt not</u>, ye shall not only do this which is done to the fig tree, but also if ye shall say unto this <u>mountain</u>, Be thou removed and be cast into the sea, it shall be done." Matthew 21:21<br />
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I used this scripture because of the reference to mountains. The biggest mountain I ever had the privilege to climb in my life, however, was not removed the way I thought it should be when my husband died from leukemia last year. I'm sure many of you knew Marshall somehow because he served you or inspired you as he fought the battle of his life and moved many mountains through his faith. At the time I thought, "Lord's Will Be Done" but since then I have had more, "how could THIS possibly be the Lord's will?" thoughts- DOUBTS you may call them.<br />
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A Book, "A Future As Bright As Your Faith", reminds us that faith and doubt dispel each other. Cast out doubt. Cultivate faith. STRIVE to retain that childlike faith which can move mountains and bring heaven closer to heart and home. Mark 9:24 "And straightway the father of the child cried out and said with tears, Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief." Wait- he believed and unbelieved? How does that work?<br />
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To quote President Uchtdorf,<br />
"Some might ask what about my doubts? It's natural to have questions. The acorn of honest inquiry has often sprouted and matured into a great oak of understanding. There are few members of the church who have not at one time or another wrestled with serious or sensitive questions...the church itself honors personal agency so strongly. It was restored by a young man who asked questions and sought answers. Respect those who honestly search for truth, honor their right to worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience just as we claim the privilege of doing". Uchtdorf openly acknowledges that after 200 years of church history there are things that cause people to question.<br />
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The struggle is how do you take something infinite and convert it to something finite? (This idea came to me from a podcast of Dehlin and Prince). It's history becoming theology. We tend to get hung up on trying to hold the church to historical criteria. How can you put on paper an infinite experience? Joseph struggled with this. I even struggled with this after an experience I had when my husband died (I still have yet to write here about that experience- it seems trying to put it in some finite language would take away from it's glory- can I use Portuguese? :).<br />
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Uchtdorf says, "Sometimes questions arise because we don't have all the information and we need a bit more patience. When the entire truth is eventually known, things that didn't make sense before will be resolved to our satisfaction.<br />
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One of the purposes of the church is to nurture and cultivate the seed of faith. Even in the sometimes sandy soil of doubt and uncertainty. Faith is the HOPE for things that are not seen, but which are true." Then his famous line, "Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith. We must not allow doubt to hold us prisoner from the divine love, peace and gifts that come through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ."<br />
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I like to use analogies. I think of DNA (science major here, sorry). The two strands that supply physical life look perfect. If you zoom in on either DNA leg though- you'll see fragments of 'garbage'. Code that was once used and vital for life now cut off, discarded, strewn aside the leg. Since that may be too technical for the kids, there's also the analogy of the Grinch. Whoville was trying SO HARD to be perfect and happy, they didn't realize all the GARBAGE they were producing. The Grinch had a different perspective up on his mountain filled with garbage they were throwing out. Until a child, Cyndi Lou-who came and you know what she said? "I myself am having some yuletide doubts." "HYPOCRITES" said the Grinch. And he was right.<br />
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Uchtdorf says, "If you define hypocrites as someone who fails to live up perfectly to what he/she believes then we're all hypocrites. None of us (especially me) are as Christ-like as we know we should be, but we earnestly desire to overcome our faults and be better. "I suppose the church would only be perfect if it were run by perfect beings. But God works through us, his imperfect children and imperfect people make mistakes (ALL of us). And now if there are faults, they are the mistakes of men." Despite our human imperfections, there are many great souls on earth. How can we find healing to our wounded souls? Do you feel distant from heaven's embrace- less than perfect?<br />
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"Each of us will have our Fridays- those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie <u>littered</u> about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again...But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death- Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, no matter our desperation, our grief (I would add our doubts), Sunday will come. IN THIS LIFE OR THE NEXT (thanks for the inspiration Karly Lay).<br />
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We can have that brilliant Sunday, Christmas, Life moment of light the Lord sends us. Then it can be followed by days, months, even years of darkness, gloominess, and doubt. For those experiencing spiritual and life's gloom- maybe you feel you don't fit in or that your testimony isn't strong enough, HOPE for the sun, for Christ to come. And for those basking in the Sun, Christmas, life- reach out and listen to us grinches. We are right too from our perspective alone on our mountain we just climbed. Help, ask, <u>stay(</u>even take a gander from our view that's much different than yours for a while), <u>refrain from judging</u>, and allow each person's unique process.<br />
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In Marshall's case, his DNA had 3 copies of chromosome 9 initially (more garbage and trans locations later after treatment) which ultimately led to his physical death- though his spirit was thriving (I often found him reading scriptures every minute he could get to them). Let's not allow our own imperfections or the imperfections of others or church (any organized people) to lead to our soul's death. Neal A Mawell described one of the fundamental choices of mortality: "Within the swirling global events- events from which we are not totally immune- is humanity's real and continuing struggle: whether or not, amid the cares of the world, we will really choose, in the word's of the Lord to care for the life of the soul". Let us be gentle to those who's worlds are changing and rearranging. In the case of the Grinch he realizes Christmas can still come without packages, boxes, all the garbage.<br />
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Christ will come. Christ is more than details of church policy and procedure, of world policy and procedure. He is becoming. He is the change of heart that only comes after a struggle of doubt, after a realization that the garbage isn't needed, after all the terrible mistakes and unbeknownst harm they caused. It's a messy life full of sin, doubts, imperfections. But a <u>perfect atonement</u> and only a broken heart that leads to Him, the Son of God.<br />
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"While Peter's eye was fixed on the Lord, the wind might toss his hair and the spray might drench his robes, but all was well. Only with wavering faith he removed his glance from the Master to look at the furious waves and the black gulf beneath him, only then did he begin to sink...(Ensign 1992)."<br />
...As individual people, as families, communities and nations, we could, like Peter fix our eyes on Jesus we too might walk triumphantly over the welling waves of disbelief and remain unafraid amid the rising doubt.</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-43906019735218123842016-12-18T22:18:00.000-08:002016-12-18T22:25:35.659-08:00Thirteen Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I reserve the right to keep the grief time period in months until two years just as a lot of people do with their children. I can't believe it's been over a year. So far, I'd say this year has been harder than last.<br />
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However, I am about to call on the enabling power of the atonement in my hopes of changing that. I may not be able to change my circumstances, but I can change myself in my circumstances. Yet again, I'm going to reinvent this blog and try to focus on what I am doing to "Get Up and Marshall On" just as my son's shirt read today. He wrote the saddest song just begging for his daddy to come back on Christmas day after visiting with Santa yesterday.<br />
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I've had a few powerful talks with my Uncle Sam. No really people, not the government (who I may add I am still mad at for not allowing Marshall to try a second round of t-cell therapy in a more timely manner), but I have a real, true uncle Sam. I also have a brother who was named after that uncle Sam, so my son also has a real-life uncle Sam. I remember the first powerful talk was when I was 16. I was so mad at my parents on a fourth of July that I was ready to run from home and attempt living a life alone already. Gratefully, during that talk I ended up sitting on an ant hill. To this day, I remember the red ants crawling all over my leg and biting me at will as if to say, "Wake up!". I've recalled that talk many times through many experiences.<br />
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The second talk happened today at a good 'ole McKee family Christmas party. Sam reminded me just how many strengths I have. I've fallen into a bit of a grief rut lately where I've felt like the powerful impact Marshall and I had through his fight and cancer experimental therapies were enough. Like caring for, researching, and ultimately experiencing the death of my partner were enough! Why do I have to keep going when he was finished? Can I just tap out now? No! Sam reminded me that the difference I can make with what I've been through at just 31 is phenomenal. That the experiences I've received through it all can set me on a course for making even more of a difference in this messed up world.<br />
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Sam said he always thought I would be a doctor or a scientist or a researcher. He asked if the cancer route was too painful now? I didn't know how to answer these questions. I just told him that when a friend asked me what I enjoyed or what I would like to do, I remember staring at them like a deer in headlights. It's been so long since I have thought about what I enjoy because for years I was taking care of someone else and now I am taking care of Kez. My life was pretty swallowed up in the researcher, caregiver, scientist roll.<br />
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So today, in order to get up and Marshall on- I am starting a strengths finder book he left for me. I'm going to find my strengths and the things I ENJOY and head in that direction. I'm going to "go confidently in the direction of my dreams and LIVE THE LIFE I've imagined". That's what Marshall would want me to do- to continue making a difference with every breath I'm given.</div>
Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-39501911115948756812016-12-13T11:30:00.002-08:002016-12-13T21:56:03.570-08:00Oh My Son<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This Christmas season has been difficult for our little family. Last year may have been the first Christmas we celebrated without Marshall, but this year we really feel it. Last year since he had just died, there were so many people buoying us up and wanting to do something especially for my son. Also, I had just experienced one of the most spiritual experiences of my life that was also holding me up as the life I had dreamed and planned for was crumbling around me. I was able to hold up my son and he was exuberant that his daddy had just graduated with angel powers.<br />
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Now, it's been a whole year. I've read that it takes about one year for a child to truly mourn and my son is no exception. My heart breaks as Kez wakes up in the morning crying and saying how much he misses his daddy laying next to him on the bed or playing with him in the next room. A couple days ago he suddenly said, "Mom, I wish that this was all a dream- that my life was all a dream." "What do you mean?" I asked. He clarified, "I wish daddy dying was all a dream. That we could just wake up and he would be here again with us". All I could say was "me too" and hold him and cry with him.</div>
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Sorry to be the gloomy one during the holidays, but I have so much more compassion for those who struggle during these festive times. "We must see others as they are seen through their parent's eyes. Through God's eyes". I used to shrug off gloomy people and go along my merry way. Back when Christmas wasn't just one BIG, FAT reminder of who we miss and who we've lost. Marshall was such a huge light in the world and to all he knew at any time- not just Christmas when people try harder to shine their light. This year, I mostly just want to huddle in my dark corner until it's all over. I hope I will have the desire to embrace light again soon. That light was so, so bright after my experiences with Marshall and family and friends coming together for him that now my son and myself are feeling the difficulties and struggles of trying to get through daily without our father and husband. </div>
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Now I understand why the holidays are so hard for some people. We will get through it. "It is always bigger than life when someone dies. People seem to idealize the deceased in a way that seems unrealistic". Sometimes I feel I will never be worthy of the exaltation that has been afforded to Marshall after living such a purposeful and meaningful life even if it was short. In that short time, he reached out to help so many and even his own death helped others in their fight to overcome physical and spiritual darkness. He loved life and light and exuded life and light. "Some of the most significant things have been done from hospital bed or jail cells." If Marshall were here today I can imagine him saying, "Do what you can from wherever you are today!" It's so overwhelming to think back on what we went through all of my son's life. Through the hardest and most far-reaching and impactful times of Marshall's life- he did life and especially the dark moments with brilliance. I received the sweetest letter from an amazing man in our former stake presidency reminding me that Marshall chose to marry me for a reason. That we "are cut out of the same cloth" and "those who face difficult challenges show the rest of us how to endure with patience, waiting upon the Lord and accepting of his love in our darkest times". My gift to Marshall this year is a promise that I will get up and Marshall on. As difficult as it is every day to raise his son without him, we can do this. There are many others going through even darker times in the world and our hearts go out to them. I don't think I'll ever be able to focus on the 'stuff', the 'gifts', the commercial aspects of this season again. I will focus on the people, the memories, the light of the world. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, ...For where your treasure is there will your heart be also".</div>
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As we were buying some gifts in the store the other day, a complete stranger turned to me after listening to Kez talk for a few minutes and said, "He sounds like he's twenty". I was proud and sad in the same moment; my genius of a son who scored a 60 on the test most kindergarteners get about a 27 on has had to bear so much already and has been forced to grow up so quickly in his short 5 years of life. His whole life his dad fought for his own life and then to lose his own father at just 4 years old...I cannot imagine that- how would I have handled that? He handles it with so much grace and sophistication that he must be an old soul. How did the Lord handle watching his son go through so much pain? I truly wish I could take all Kezman's sorrows away from him, but then who would he be without the sorrow? Probably not a 5 year old boy who sounds 20 in a store. Again I am reminded that "we seem to be more concerned with how things turn out while God is concerned with how WE turn out".</div>
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In the same breath that I curse the Lord and the world for taking Marshall away from my son, I'm thankful for the broader life and world perspectives we've been given. While some people complain of this little thing or that, what appreciation we have been given for every breath. What Marshall wouldn't give to have 15 more minutes of life being stuck behind that train or just 1 more hour with his wife and son. I think of the song he wrote about living "another man's dream". He made every day he woke up his dream come true even through his sufferings. My hope is that I can be better at embracing the glowing embers that remain from his well-lived life instead of the ashes that I seem to be trying to paint something out of lately. For my son, I hope to be better at making this season a little more magical and a little less painful.</div>
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-77822958001578671742016-11-30T21:18:00.005-08:002016-11-30T21:18:45.910-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On this day last year we held the celebration Marshall had written. I have no words this year. Here are some pictures and since a picture is worth a thousand words, behold: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNAGNsuH9VqjHJIzI2sScNLJIxHKZgYnA2wfhSWgAU60NA5YhEkpUSZJUA-YMCv41KRBU6mRvTmxBA5gO4xGMdYAkXmjl-_ExHyUOJvPBDukFOOFZ5CvxBpJfkyK00YhdRIBfU6d7_fuk/s1600/DSC_4108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNAGNsuH9VqjHJIzI2sScNLJIxHKZgYnA2wfhSWgAU60NA5YhEkpUSZJUA-YMCv41KRBU6mRvTmxBA5gO4xGMdYAkXmjl-_ExHyUOJvPBDukFOOFZ5CvxBpJfkyK00YhdRIBfU6d7_fuk/s320/DSC_4108.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is still available to listen to his service here:<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MejXHWJmWAA&t=2737s">Marshall's funeral services</a><br />
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-59843084769044403792016-11-29T21:22:00.000-08:002016-11-29T21:26:19.684-08:00C.S. Lewis' Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One year ago today was Marshall's viewing. The date was fitting because it is also the day C.S. Lewis was born. Marshall loved C.S. Lewis. Some of the last quotes he shared from him were, "Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did...you will presently come to love him". "Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at its testing point". "There must be something great in the mortal soul. For suffering, it seems, is infinite, and our capacity without limit". I've been reading from a few of C.S. Lewis' writings and liked this one, "No living language is timeless. You might as well ask for a motionless river". Marshall loved language- all languages and loved talking. It was like asking the river to be motionless when he couldn't use his language. His son is a lot like that too.<br />
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Here are a few pictures from that day. I remember the line was uber long- so many people loved Marshall. He really took the quote about loving your neighbor to heart. We were blessed to have an apostle come even though he was triple booked that night.<br />
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-90525234379289660792016-11-28T22:10:00.000-08:002016-11-28T22:26:55.944-08:00Nick Colleluori<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I may have to start a blog binge for the end of this month. Today is November 28th and a day I will never forget as Nick from our beloved Nick's House passed away on this day now ten years ago. I'll never forget the date because Marshall wrote a song called Ten Days for me once when we had to be quarantined from each other for that long. Now it's also the number of days between dates of Marshall and Nick's passing. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEsfX-TpKT8">You can hear the song he wrote in isolation by clicking here.</a><br />
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The amazing HEADStrong family and Nick's legacy is one that I will never, ever forget. Nick was inspiring and a warrior until the very end much like Marshall. I never got to meet him, but his family would often tell us Marshall reminded them of Nick. I really, really hope they are inspiring and helping even more people where they are. I'm sure neither of them would have it any other way. There was an even greater bond formed when Michael's little girl was born within hours of Marshall's passing. Nick's number was 27 and as I have somehow lasted through the hardest month since Marshall's passing, this number seems to be following me around. In fact, Marshall received a medal of the highest soldier one can be in lacrosse that was covered in 27s. I still have that medal and sometimes wear it when I feel like I just don't want to go on another minute. Here's Marshall wearing it in 2014 when we walked around the halls for the Cure Search walk.<br />
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I found the letter he wrote to Nick that year and it still inspires me as well. Just as his life still inspires me:</div>
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<a href="http://ajmjensen.blogspot.com/2014/09/dear-nick.html" style="color: #29d4cb; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-decoration: none;">Dear Nick,</a></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've heard it said that "life isn't fair" but I disagree. Life is beautiful, painful, joyful and sorrowful but life is a blessing. Death, it's death that's not fair. It's not fair that cancer took you from us. It's not fair that someone so young and active can be afflicted with this disease. You were at the prime of life, a student planning a future with your sweetheart, a division one college athlete, a teammate, a friend, a brother, a son.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wish I never knew you because that would mean that you may still be here. I wish that I didn't know your story because maybe that would mean that I wouldn't have mine. I wish that cancer considered the circumstances of those it afflicts before it overtook them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't know if I would have been cool enough to hang with you and Michael but I think we would have got along. Growing up several of my close friends played lacrosse and I always enjoyed going to their games. I played basketball in high school and I was a good defender, a "scrapper" - I had to be at my size. My coach used to put me in the game just to shut some player down on the other team. You might even say I was "relentless".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I want to thank you for letting my family stay at your house. I feel privileged to stay here and get to know your family. As you know they are doing an amazing job with HEADstrong. I don't know if you realized how many lives you would change, but your drive and vision have effected countless individuals and their families. The ripples of your influence continue to extend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wouldn't be surprised if you're teaching and inspiring others in the world of spirits. I've had the impression that you are allowed to check in on my family from time to time. It's good to know we have a special guardian angel with a lacrosse stick :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Marshall </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As he put it so well, death isn't fair. It's not fair that I didn't get to celebrate seven years with you fifteen days ago. It's not fair that your son wakes up crying saying that he misses you some mornings and definitely not fair that he will not get to know his amazing dad. It's not fair that such a bright light was taken from the world too young Marshall. Yet, because I knew you so well I have been changed for good. We miss your music, your smile, your countenance. We miss you so much. </span></div>
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-91791854367286028012016-11-01T22:13:00.001-07:002016-11-01T23:06:43.943-07:00Coding<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Breathe. Sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe. Some time during the third week of October I realized just how hard this month is going to be. And now it's November. The month I've been dreading most this year is here. Often I think about what was going on exactly one year ago today as it was Marshall's last month. It was also definitely his most painful month. Last week I opened up the sublime program I use to code for the first time in about a year and so many memories came rushing back. It was so hard for me to watch him suffering (WAY harder for him to suffer) so much and often I would turn to my computer and code while sitting in his hospital room. More medication. (Code a new step for tabs). More medication. (Code a new step for reading a bar code). More medication. The morphine pump wasn't enough. (Code a new step to retain the contents of a bottle). We are upping the fentanyl patch again. Now we are trying a new drug, methadone because we have run out of options. His body was becoming more resistant after four years of so much pain medication. I couldn't tell him, but I cried every time I left the room to breathe. Coding on a computer was a distraction from watching his pain. A way to sit in the same room with him and try not to let him see my worry and tears for him.<br />
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Then he coded. Not the kind of coding I was doing, but the true, blue, hospital, life-threatening kind. He was taken to the ICU in his second round of septic shock (the first one was last year). I stopped coding and remained right by his side ever cheering that he could get through this again. He bounced back relatively quickly from that episode. The doctors knew what infections caused it and were fighting them with antibiotics. Then five days after our sixth anniversary, came his third and final code. Again, septic shock. There was something different this time. As they pumped him full of fluids to try to get his pressures stabilized, this time they handed me his wedding ring. "We don't want to have to cut it off later" they said. Wait.a.minute. They had pumped him full of fluids to try to stabilize his pressures twice before. They had never handed me his ring. I could feel a sense of urgency to tell him all I wanted to say. To tell him that if his pain was SO much to bear, that he could let go. To LIE to him and tell him Kez and I would be ok if his fight was over. As soon as I said it, I turned from him and yelled a silent and internal scream. I had felt the urgency to say those words to him before, but I wouldn't. This time it was different. It was like someone was punching me in the gut, forcing the words out.<br />
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This month brings with it several anniversaries. It would have been our seventh wedding anniversary, but instead it is the first anniversary of his death five days later. A friend of mine asked, "what do you want to do on that day? Do you want to stay home and cry or do you want to distract yourself and get out?" I.don't.know. I just want to be numb, just like Marshall's song numb. I wish I couldn't feel all this and that I couldn't remember any of this. I bet Marshall felt that way physically this month last year, as I am emotionally. On that 17th day of November, Marshall couldn't breathe. We had discussed end of life decisions several times before. He had told me his greatest fears were losing his mind and not being able to talk or sing. And here he was facing the decision to either lose brain cells by not being ventilated or lose his ability to talk and sing by being ventilated. It was the bravest decision I've ever seen any man make in my life. It also ended up being his last decision. There were more decisions that came after that. I'm sure I will blog more about those later this month. It will be a difficult month for me (already has), so this blogging/ journal will be good for me my grief group leader said. I didn't realize how many times he sang about breath and breathing in the lyrics of the music he wrote until he struggled so much for his own breath. "You left me Breathless and waiting...I could not believe my eyes...oh as you were walking by" were the lyrics he was singing that first November 13th that I walked by him.<br />
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-67392208316455583192016-09-10T10:58:00.000-07:002016-09-10T19:31:08.321-07:00Falling into Fall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I could feel it as I woke up this morning and pulled on his Utah sweatshirt. The crispness in the air. I bit into a juicy, sweet peach. I love peaches. I love sweatshirts. Fall is definitely coming. Yet it hurts. I somehow don't love these things as much without him. One thing I've realized since Marshall died is that besides holidays and birthdays, the changing of the seasons is one of the hardest times during the year. It REALLY hurts. It hurts to not have him here to share in our son's first day of kindergarten and to laugh at my rookie parenting mistakes as I send my kid off in the world for the first time. Here I go into the cold season again without my human heater to keep me warm.<br />
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I can be very strong and together around others. Especially around my son. Every time he sees my tears, he says, "mom- dad wants us to be happy!" If anyone in the world wants us to be happy of course Marshall does. So I will let my tears fall on my keyboard as he is busy playing in another room- without his dad. He often wishes he was here to play with him as I wish he was here to talk to and laugh at and with me. And yet Marshall's old mitt and ball sit untouched. As much as my head knows that we are to move forward happily, my heart sometimes wants to be buried in the cold ground next to his. Good thing I have a strong mind that likes to dominate my heart. He taught me to use my heart more and I miss his teachings. I hope his soul can still teach my broken heart some things once in a while. Sometimes I curse my heart for being so weak to fall in love with him. I was often guarded against guys growing up, so why did it have to fall for him? See, I knew I had my guard up for all those years for a reason. So I could avoid being so heart broken as I am now.<br />
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I hesitate a bit to share this and the music because I cried through it all so it's not my best performance, but I promised some friends across the country I would. We got through his birthday thanks to others. I think he loved it. So many family and friends singing HIS beautiful lyrics and songs. I am so glad he tuned his instruments and didn't let his music die within him. I even sang Beautiful Heartbreak, the last song he sent me. The money we raised is going to another leukemia fighter. If we can keep this benefit going, I hope I can get through the songs next year without crying and losing my place every time. Thank you to every single person who put in the effort to create something beautiful this year for Music for Marshall and all who supported Spenser in his fight and our family in our grief.<br />
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It's probably a good thing I just started another grief group. This season's change is seeming to be the hardest yet. I think it is because we are entering the season when he died and was buried last year. I just don't want to face it alone. Last year there were many people around and this year I am sure I will visit his grave alone. I am mad at him for leaving me to raise our son, take care of the house and cars, and try to navigate this world and the rest of life. It should be against the rules that your husband get sick for four years and then dies right after you marry him. That's all I'm saying. We were just beginning. Why did the beginning have to be the end?<br />
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Today is the Y vs the U game, which is what we did for our second date (our first date we went country dancing lifts and all and he spouted off his memorized lines of Ralph Waldo Emerson). It's the only day of the year we would act as rivals and I would cheer for blue and he would cheer for red as we cuddled. This year as I got accepted to a grad school program at the U and he is gone, I'm not really sure who I should cheer for anymore. Such is life since he died. Many small, insignificant decisions have been sometimes hard for me to make. And the much bigger, important decisions !? Forget it. I am working on that. I hope I can get better at remembering what it was like to make decisions on my own. Yet I also thank him for giving me the perspective of just how often we make such big deals over trivial things and what really will matter when life is over. At least Kez is a cuddler at this stage of his life. That's what Fall is good for too.<br />
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People can be jerks to single moms. Especially when they don't know what we've been through. Sometimes I can't blurt out a very quick version of our story fast enough to avoid the misjudgments. Sometimes I don't want to talk about it at all so I just let people look on and misjudge. I wish he could come back just for a day so I could tell him all about it. I could also tell him about all we've done this year and how strong we've become and thank him for that. I would beg him to stay. To teach his son all the wonderful qualities he had. To teach him his love of music and guitar. His optimism and divinity. All the qualities I admired about him. Maybe that's why he's our angel now. I should have fallen for someone of lesser quality. At least they would still be alive. That probably sounds terrible, but that's how I feel as the cold bites my toes this morning. I'm also extremely grateful for how very hard he pursued me 7 years ago and how he convinced me to marry him because without that first step I wouldn't have gotten to know him so well and I wouldn't be who I am now. Now I'm going to soak in yet another bath hoping I can warm up myself and numb the pain.<br />
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I also felt another feeling as I was wrapping up this blog this morning. It was a distinct, very warm pressure on my right arm. I really want to believe that his spirit is still around us sometimes. Yet even that belief doesn't take away the tremendous pain that his body is not and that is what sparked these ramblings. I am sure his spirit misses its' body and all the things he could do with it. He inspires me to make the most of this life and try to love these moments while I still have them.<br />
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Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-72839649042080047662016-08-27T21:32:00.001-07:002016-08-27T21:32:10.149-07:00AJ on Marshall's birthday<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lIxA8YzftBo" width="459"></iframe>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-12264125464785504422016-08-26T20:40:00.001-07:002016-08-26T20:40:33.851-07:00Marshall on his birthday 4<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UN_rHVqD7mQ" width="459"></iframe>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-4682083449098977502016-08-25T21:17:00.001-07:002016-08-25T21:17:07.287-07:00Marshall on his birthday 3<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/coCWrmkoUZE" width="459"></iframe>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-36197888558669016862016-08-25T10:45:00.001-07:002016-08-25T10:45:27.383-07:00Marshall on his birthday 1<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2-yZUNtMrTo" width="459"></iframe>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5726487883476604651.post-40403279954034102652016-08-25T10:39:00.001-07:002016-08-25T10:39:52.399-07:00Marshall on his birthday 2<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gBmDg5upDAo" width="459"></iframe>Amanda Joyce Jensenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875623789597960906noreply@blogger.com0