I once was lost; but now I'm found

I know, I know: I've been absent for over a year. Thank you for respecting my need for a little privacy and space.

Today I bring you the story of the lost pen. For those of you who know me well, you know that I do not have the best relationship with my father. Without going into the gory details (oh! but there are some great stories there!), I must say this: the best birthday present he ever gave me was a fancy Cross pen. I think maybe there was a fancy Cross pencil, and I love me a good mechanical pencil, but somehow in many cross-country moves, it was lost.

Here is my pen, in front of my apple and my bag of nuts and dried fruit. Yes I am drying my own fruit--bananas and pineapple. YUM! No I did not dry the craisins--those are from Costco, as well as the cashews and almonds.





Now I love me a good pen. I can't stand cheap pens that blot and run out of ink in the inopportune middle of a letter, or that get lost. I forgot about the fancy Cross pen from Dad until about a year ago. I even started using a little pencil box so I wouldn't lose it. My pen ran out of ink early this summer, and while in Utah, my dad even let me use his BYU Bookstore discount to get a refill, and he showed me with pride where they were on the shelf (another example of one of the nicest things he has done for me. Do NOT tell my brother Josh, who is convinced Dad cannot do nice things, simply because he'll asks Dad to do the same for him and Dad explicitly told me not to tell anyone--part of the gory details and great stories!).

Well yesterday I pulled out my pen in my Hist 100 class to take a few notes as my students took their quiz. And last night I realized that was the last I had seen of my pen. I had left it, inadvertently, in 2103 David King Hall (a room, which, if you care, is NOT mediated and I have to pick up a laptop and a projector in a wheely suitcase and walk it over every MWF morning at 8:00 am!). Oh snap!

Well I figured I could just get me another fancy pen. Or a cheaper pen that worked really well.

But.

I need to preserve this relationship. Not only with my pen, but with the nice things my dad has done for me.

And I think Heavenly Father is aware of that. Because He quietly suggested that I run past the classroom today after my Hist 125 class and get it. I was sure it would be gone--how many students and professors have passed through that room since yesterday? A lot, I'm sure.

But. Apparently they don't value fancy Cross pens, the nicest gifts ever from my Dad. Because it was still there. And as small and tender as that little mercy was, it means the world to me.

On other fronts:

• I'm still in remission. Hooray! Still having treatment. Boo! but only 2 more months. Hooray! Please bless that my low red blood cell counts and hematocrit and hemoglobin go back up fast, or I'm going to have to eat me an awful lot of red meat and spinach. Or maybe have more chemo?
• My hair is back, and boy is it curly! It's a regular mane!
• I taught D&C at BYU this summer and LOVED it. So much that I'm scared of the possibility of moving back to Provo.
• I'm teaching my own History of Western Civilization class at GMU this fall and LOVING it. Tomorrow we're discussing Greek civilization and I'm showing a clip from Disney's Donald and Mathemagic.
• I'm finishing my dissertation! Which means major revisions! Which means defense in March and graduation in May and being on the job market NOW!
• I'm still doing my Relief Society gig in the Shirlington Ward. Hooray!