Every battle needs a banner

I love my family. Of course, I'm fairly fond of this one the Liz and I have built, but I also mean my family: brothers, sister, mom, dad. My older brother lives like super way far away, so we "talk" more via email and gmail chat than anything. He sent me an email this morning with the subject line:

Every Battle Needs a Banner

He made a graphic just to show that he cares (good thing, or we would have had no idea...):

Liz isn't terribly fond of pity pastel pale pink, so I kindly asked my brother to give another shot with some hotter pink flair (my request, not hers!). The ribbon would be cool in hot pink. Or unicorns are awesome. So he sent over Battle Banner #2:

That's what I'm talkin' about. Dr. Howie, if you are reading this, I envision a glorious hot pink ribbon watermark behind the triumphant winged unicorni. unicornys. unicorns. Then shall the t-shirt creations commence. (and lo, hark, and behold, the good doctor delivered:)

If you, dear blog reader, are especially talented in these, the graphic arts, I hereby decree that all submissions for the official Team Liz logo (with emphasis on hot pink) will be fully considered, and hereafter posted in subsequent blogosts. postlogs. plogs. BPs. blog posts. Go forth.

Every battle does indeed need a banner. I've been thinking today about what my banners might be. I carry various banners at work (manager, coworker, cheerleader, grunt worker, visionary, luddite) and at school (smart, dumb, funny, happy, helpful, hopeless). My banners are often different at home and at church. But if I had to pick just one to carry into the biggest battle yet, what would it look like? What would it say? What would it mean to others? To myself?

Yeah, I don't have those answers nailed down just yet. The battle's upon us before we had time to prepare. So I guess we're stuck with what we already have, but we're fortunate borrow banners from our amazing friends and family when we need to.

I'm the president of the elders quorum in our ward (local congregation, each with a lay Bishop—like a pastor—overseeing the affairs of the ward), which means my responsibilities are to help build faith, serve, teach, and strengthen individuals and families within our ward. I report to the Stake President (lay leader of 10ish wards). He's a very busy and wonderful man, and he came to speak to us today. He said that, much like in a family, when one member struggles or needs help, everyone else needs to step up and fill in. That is the essence of Christlike service. He asked me to take a step back from my church responsibilities for a time, while I focus on what's most important: my family. And he asked each member of the elders quorum to think about what they could individually do to do a little more, be a little better. I felt such comfort and strength in that meeting today, even though most of my energy was focused on not crying in front of dudes. I'm grateful to him for his humble leadership. What a great reminder of the Lord's plan: family first.

Thank you (you know who you area) to the friends, family, coworkers, classmates, leaders, and ward members who have already extended a helping hand. An email, a call, a text for Liz, a meal, a play date for the boys, an encouraging and happy letter, a priesthood blessing, a smile, a hello. We're worried about this next phase of our lives, starting with chemotherapy tomorrow morning. But we're comforted through the care and service of so many others. We feel your strength.

If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow your banner for a while.

Go Team Liz.