Light in the Darkness

 I had a Godwink happen recently and wanted to tell you about it.

So, recently I’d been telling some family and friends about something I’m struggling with. Many of you know I’m converting to Judaism. But as part of this journey, I’m actually supposed to change my name to something that is Hebrew. 

Several weeks ago, my Rabbi went over about a dozen names with me. She found things that seemed as if they might fit me. But this is much harder than it sounds, and I want to pick the perfect name. After a lot of thought, I kept thinking about the name “Liora”—which means light. (I also thought about “Eliora”—light of G-d). But there are honestly too many choices, and I’d just been thinking how I desperately wish I could have some type of confirmation about the name Liora.

Anyway, this thought wouldn’t leave me, and it probably didn’t help that cancer treatments have been especially tough this month.

Despite that, I finally dragged myself out of bed and decided to go grocery shopping.

I’m truly a creature of habit lately, and there’s a place I always park. It’s the handicap area, right up front. But after I parked this time, something incredible happened! 

Somebody had put a painted rock right in front of the parking spot! It was later in the day, and the golden-painted sun shone so brightly in my headlights. I got out of my car, so excited to read the words on the rock, and I gasped as I held the rock in my hands. 

“Be the light in someone’s darkness,” I read the words aloud and studied every detail about that rock. You could see where the weather had worn off parts of the paint and even chipped away at pieces of the rock itself. I realized then that the rock had probably been sitting there for quite a while! How many times had I parked in that spot and missed a miracle waiting right in front of me?! That alone is such a good lesson: There are all these beautiful things around us, but we have to be aware and open; otherwise, we might miss them. 

I decided to take the rock and put it on my desk. But I didn’t want to go without leaving something behind, so I bought a really uplifting card and taped it where the rock had been. I hoped everyone who saw it would feel inspired, but I also wanted the rock artist to see it.

It’s interesting because the next day, I returned to the grocery store and happened to tell the cashier about this. “It’s confirmation about the name Liora,” I said. “I’d just been wondering if I should pick that name—which means light. I can hardly believe I immediately FOUND a rock that talked about being the light in the darkness! It was such a godwink.”

“You just gave me chills,” the cashier said, beaming so much. HER name should be Eliora! “I can hardly wait to tell the artist,” she whispered.

“Wait?! You know her?”

The woman nodded. “She’ll love this story. You know,” she paused, looking at me with wonder, “she leaves those rocks, hoping to bring people joy. It’s all she really wants.”

I wondered then if she was the artist, but I didn’t say anything. She would’ve told me if she wanted to.

So I left the store, knowing what my new name would be and feeling as if life couldn’t possibly get any better. 

Uplifting Despite Circumstances

An incredible group of women were traveling on a bus when they got into a huge car accident and ended up passing away. Unfortunately, there was a long wait to get into Heaven, so an angel came over and told them they belonged in Heaven, but a bunch of paperwork needed to be done. They’d need to wait in Hell for a while, but it wouldn’t be… forever. “Don’t worry,” he said. “A representative will come and get you soon.”

The afterlife must be a LITTLE bit like Earth because things didn’t go as expected, and after a while, the women had been in Hell for a very long time. 

Finally, Heaven got a call from someone down below. “You’ve gotta come and get these ladies; they’re making a mess of it down here! They’re ruining everything!” He sighed with exasperation. “They’ve already started all these fundraisers. They opened a hospital and have started helping the needy and making things easier for people who are being tortured. But the worst thing—the thing we can’t abide…” He took a deep breath. “They raised enough money for us to get air conditioning, and it’s being installed tomorrow!”

Ironically, we heard that joke on the way to the cancer center because that’s exactly what Indy did after she brought me to treatments. She smiled and waved at patients. She complimented a somber woman on her beautiful blouse and gave an older man a bumblebee pin. She lifted everyone up, and it seemed like she had left a trail of happiness in her wake.

“Did you notice there aren’t a lot of kids here?” I asked her.

“Yeah, why is that?” she said, looking around.

“If kids have cancer, they go to the children's hospital, and not many parents bring their kids here. People under 18 weren’t even allowed to the Huntsman during COVID.”

Indy went on to say that the cancer center is happier than she expected. “The staff is nice, and most patients are in such a positive mood.” 

I suppressed my surprise and nodded. “I think, for the most part, people here are positive because they’re fighting hard to hang onto life. They’re grateful for what they have…” I’ve visited the cancer center many times, and although Indy went with me when she was younger, I didn’t realize she’d even been thinking about the Huntsman when I went there. It surprised me she thought it would be sadder. 

“Fighting cancer IS tough,” I finally said, “but it does put things in perspective.”

Before we left the center, I watched as Indy continued making the day better for everyone around, and then it hit me: Most people were positive there, but Indy lightened everyone's moods. She saw the good and inspired others to be brave enough to see it, too.

After we drove home, I gave Indy the biggest hug. “People there wouldn’t even know what you’re experiencing,” I said. “I overheard you talking to your boyfriend the other day. I know this must be so hard on you. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For wanting to make other people’s days better even though I know you’re going through tough things too.” 

Indy smiled through her tears and looked at me with so much love.

“I know you’re going to beat this, Mama. I just know it.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Indy, you are amazing.” She made my day brighter, just like she did for so many other cancer patients. I just hope she can feel the happiness she brings into my life each and every day.

Appreciate What You Have

 It’s surreal thinking how long ago my grandma passed away, and yet she continues to have such a positive impact on my life. I thought about this while in the MRI machine for 2 1/2 hours last week and remembered something my grandma said to me before she died…

Maybe memories like this keep popping up because the 30th of January was the day my little boy, Zeke, passed away so many years ago. He was only alive for 2 1/2 months, and he stayed at Primary Children’s almost the whole time. It was the most horrific, harrowing experience of my whole life, and I think taking him off of life support is the worst thing I will ever do. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully move past it.

One of the only positive things that grew from that experience was how close I got to my grandma. She started calling every day while he was alive just to make sure I was okay. And sometimes, she’d call more than once a day after he passed. 

Her health began failing a few years later, and she told me something sobering during one of our many conversations. “Elisa, you see me in St. George about 2–4 times a year. Usually, you’re here a day. Well, I’m getting a lot worse, and I started thinking if I passed away next year, that only gives us about four more days together.”

This comment hit me. Four more days. It’s odd how we think about the time each year and the importance we put on menial tasks…things we do to fill our days and years. Conversely, I DO recognize that having a purpose is important, but in the process of trying to attain our goals, we often lose perspective.

Oddly enough, on the anniversary of my first son’s death, I overheard a man on a business call. He said, “I’m a doer, and you’re a doer! Do you know why I surround myself with doers?! So we can get more done!”

I saw so much of myself in that man but wondered if he understood that no one ends up on their deathbed, asking to be surrounded by piles of money—no one asks for crap that they bought. They ask for their family! And if we haven’t spent quality time with the people we love, will they be there for us? How many “days” have we spent with THEM? Did they feel like a priority? 

We’d been in line, and this man ended up butting everyone, bypassing dozens of people in his hurry through life! People gaped at each other, stunned, but that’s when Mike noticed something strange. 

“He left this!” Mike held up an electronic device the man had forgotten, something we knew he’d need later. Being inconsiderate and rushing around so much cost him time in the long run! It just goes back to my grandma’s point about time. 

It’s sad because after my grandma made that comment about how many days we had left together, she actually died within about six months, and I only got one more day with her. One. Single. Day…

So, I just wanted to remind you to appreciate the time you have. Appreciate your family and friends. Never let a day go by when they don’t know how much you love them because life is unpredictable, and I’ve come to believe that the most valuable thing any of us can do is make a positive difference for the people around us, especially the people we love. 

It’s cliché for a reason, but now is all we really have. Make it count.