About the middle of December, after my surgery, we went to Rejhaun's graduation. She is our future daughter-in-law. On this trip, we were meeting Rejhaun's family for the first time, and then packing Austin and Rejhaun's furniture, and bringing it back to our house for their move to Florida. Eugene went up a couple days early so he and Austin could go duck hunting at a special place where Austin had reserved a spot. They were sure to get their quota in ducks. They got up at the ungodly hour of 2 a.m., and drove 2 hours to get there on time, only to find out that they had Austin on the list for the day before. What a disappointment to Austin! But the really important thing was to have fun together, right? So they drove back to a spot near Warrensburg, and had a great day, anyway, shooting 3 ducks. During the day, Eugene's side started hurting, becoming so intense, that by the time he got back to the motel after dark, he couldn't get much relief, even with laying down and taking strong pain meds. He recognized the pain as a kidney stone attack. The pain began to ease somewhat late the next morning.
In the meantime, Cassie and I had started up to Warrensburg, driving through a blizzard. About 100 miles before we got there, the snow was stacking up until we couldn't tell where the edge of the road was, so we drove close behind an 18-wheeler and stayed there so we could follow his tracks. (I guess it's nice that he didn't run off the road!) Finally, about midnight, Cassie said, "I can't take this any more. We've got to get off this highway." So at the next exit, (not a town), there was a sign; "ATLASTA M TEL". Since I had left my map at home, (we knew the way, didn't we?) I didn't know how far it was to the next exit, so we stopped, and drove around and
d-o-w-n into the 'm tel' courtyard. The heavy snow made things look like a ghost town. The man at the desk acted kind of weird, grinning and swaying to the music from the TV, and glancing dreamily into the room around the corner, like he had a friend in there. We were a little spooked, can you tell? The room was decorated in 'original cheap 70's style'. But we knew the sink counter had been redone at some point, because to counter top was taller than usual, and repaired with painted plywood. The repairs were even old. The tub only had a little mold around the base, but there was enough hot water for one shower the next morning; mine. The sheets were old, but clean, and there was no blanket, only the bedspread. We got our one little snuggle blanket from the car, and put that next to us, along with my big coat, and laid like spoons in a drawer to stay warm. At any rate, we survived the night, and since I didn't have an ice scraper, a nice man from the next room cleaned our windows for us, and we were good to go. At the very next exit, there was a town with several nice motels (with complete words on their signs)! We made it the rest of the way with only one close call, where Cassie pulled onto the road in front of an 18-wheeler. (It would have been okay, except for the packed snow under all our wheels.) She saved us by turning completely off the road onto the shoulder, and letting him slip past.
We made it there, watched Rejhaun graduate with honors, ate lunch with her folks, packed the furniture, and started back home. Eugene said that the whole day his side didn't hurt him, but the minute we climbed in the van to go home (a 6-hour drive), his side started paining again.
Here we were, at dusk; the church van, trailer, and Cassie's car, packed to the gills with Austin and Rejhaun's stuff. A new blizzard hanging over us the whole way, packing a new layer of snow on top of yesterday's snow. And a kidney stone kicking up like birth pains in Eugene's side. Since my surgery had been so recent, neither Cassie or Eugene would let me drive. He was taking pain meds so I was worried about his driving abilities. The storm stretched the 6-hour trip to 9 hours. Eugene was asking Cassie to speed up more than 30 mph, and she (with both hands firmly squeezing the steering wheel) was saying she wasn't speeding up for anyone, that she had me with her, and I knew the way home. We switched up, and Eugene let me drive for about 20 minutes, and couldn't stand that anymore. There were vehicles in the ditch all over the place. He figured if I continued to drive, that's where we would be, too. It was a long harrowing Saturday night, I'm tellin' ya! I begged him to stop in Columbia, and again in St. Louis, where there were emergency rooms and doctors. Both times the answer was, "NO, I'M GOING TO CAPE WHERE I KNOW THE DOCTORS!" I called friends and got reinforcment to tell him to stop. The answer was "NO". I finally told him that since he thought he was dying, I guessed he was just trying to kill us all. About 4 a.m. we finally arrived in Cape. Everyone was completely exhausted! He dropped Cassie and me off at Beth's, and he went straight to the hospital. Needless to say, he didn't preach that Sunday morning. But they did send him home, later that day, and removed the stone on Monday. Then there was a stint, which he kept for a week, and another surgery to remove that. It was one of those horrible times that make you laugh, after the pain goes away.
At least, we did have a wonderful trip the following week, when we moved the kids to Florida.
So I told you that story to say this: Mama can't ever have her own crisis, and get all the attention. It's amazing what some people will do to get their share of the spotlight!
.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
POST-OP AFTERMATH
The days after breast surgery can be pretty tiring. The next day was Thanksgiving. It was a quiet day, with family coming and going, bringing in food from the other in-laws. My wonderful, helping daughters had to go home Sunday. But the ladies from church continued to bring food for several days.
We went back to the doctor on Monday. The nurse practitioner came whizzing in. She was all bright, moving too fast, and talking too much. I couldn't get in a word edgewise! The nerve of her. I am the patient, right? All the time she was talking, she was digging off steri-strips. (There goes my security! It had only been 5 days!) I told her that I guess she knew if my incision popped open, I was coming after her. She just laughed and said, "It's not gonna come open." Then she pulled out one of the drain tubes. I was expecting it to be about two or three inches long, because they had told me to be sure and not pull them out. That thing was a good 10 to 12 inches long, all swirled around under my skin! After that, she told me (notice, I didn't say 'asked') to stretch my arm straight over my head. I was lying down, so I stuck my arm straight up in the air. I thought, "This is a breeze. No sweat." She said, "No, back this way, and made me reach over and behind my head, till my hand touched the bed behind me. I thought my armpit was gonna rip! She bragged on me. I thought, "Huh!" Then she started re-wrapping me, still talking 90 to nothing. I just sat there in amazement and watched while she put on more gauze and tape than the surgeon did after surgery. When the doctor came in, he said he wanted to see the incision, and she said, "Well, you didn't say before, so it's all wrapped up now." So I went home, without the doctor seeing my wound, minus all my steri-strips and one drain tube, and with gauze and tape sticking out the neck of my shirt. I was a-gg-i-tat-ed!
There's nothing worse than a bright, cheerful, practical person making you do things that are good for you, that you don't want to do, when you are in the mood to be petted and doted on.
I went back to work at school the following Wednesday, exactly one week after surgery. I still had one drain tube in, so I stuffed the bulb into the bra pocket on my camisole, and made a 'prosthesis' out of it. My co-workers helped me by pushing Jessie's wheelchair and anything else that they deemed too heavy or too strenuous for me to do. At least six co-workers gave me one of their sick leave days, to offset all the time off I would need for two surgeries. And I can feel the strength of people's prayers.
I had some trouble sleeping. I was sore all under my arm and ribs, and troubled by little nagging worries. I told one of my sister-friends that I did okay as long as I was up and other people were around, but when I got up in the night, alone, that was when the doubts and fears jumped on me. She looked surprised, and said, " The Lord has woke me up the last three nights in a row to pray for you, between 3 and 5 in the morning." So there you have it. We are never alone. That's what Jesus promised, right? In the battle, or in the aftermath, He will never leave us alone.
We went back to the doctor on Monday. The nurse practitioner came whizzing in. She was all bright, moving too fast, and talking too much. I couldn't get in a word edgewise! The nerve of her. I am the patient, right? All the time she was talking, she was digging off steri-strips. (There goes my security! It had only been 5 days!) I told her that I guess she knew if my incision popped open, I was coming after her. She just laughed and said, "It's not gonna come open." Then she pulled out one of the drain tubes. I was expecting it to be about two or three inches long, because they had told me to be sure and not pull them out. That thing was a good 10 to 12 inches long, all swirled around under my skin! After that, she told me (notice, I didn't say 'asked') to stretch my arm straight over my head. I was lying down, so I stuck my arm straight up in the air. I thought, "This is a breeze. No sweat." She said, "No, back this way, and made me reach over and behind my head, till my hand touched the bed behind me. I thought my armpit was gonna rip! She bragged on me. I thought, "Huh!" Then she started re-wrapping me, still talking 90 to nothing. I just sat there in amazement and watched while she put on more gauze and tape than the surgeon did after surgery. When the doctor came in, he said he wanted to see the incision, and she said, "Well, you didn't say before, so it's all wrapped up now." So I went home, without the doctor seeing my wound, minus all my steri-strips and one drain tube, and with gauze and tape sticking out the neck of my shirt. I was a-gg-i-tat-ed!
There's nothing worse than a bright, cheerful, practical person making you do things that are good for you, that you don't want to do, when you are in the mood to be petted and doted on.
I went back to work at school the following Wednesday, exactly one week after surgery. I still had one drain tube in, so I stuffed the bulb into the bra pocket on my camisole, and made a 'prosthesis' out of it. My co-workers helped me by pushing Jessie's wheelchair and anything else that they deemed too heavy or too strenuous for me to do. At least six co-workers gave me one of their sick leave days, to offset all the time off I would need for two surgeries. And I can feel the strength of people's prayers.
I had some trouble sleeping. I was sore all under my arm and ribs, and troubled by little nagging worries. I told one of my sister-friends that I did okay as long as I was up and other people were around, but when I got up in the night, alone, that was when the doubts and fears jumped on me. She looked surprised, and said, " The Lord has woke me up the last three nights in a row to pray for you, between 3 and 5 in the morning." So there you have it. We are never alone. That's what Jesus promised, right? In the battle, or in the aftermath, He will never leave us alone.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
PEACE ABOUT PIECES
This post is not about my children...but it is about a child. A child whose mother has breast cancer. That child is me. We've only known about this for a few weeks. I have a wonderful group of friends who check on me often, asking if I'm doing okay with it all. And I am. Actually, it's been kind of easy. Because Mom has made it easy. She's positive, practical, and seems to be taking it all in stride. I guess that's what good moms do...make hard things easier. She has a strong faith and it shows in everything she does. And because she's strong, I can be too.The day before Thanksgiving, they took her left breast. My dad, my sisters and I joined a whole group of other people who loved her in the hospital. We teased her that she had a "network" like the cell phone commercial because there was a whole entourage following her as they wheeled her down the hall to the surgical unit. We waited together, talking, laughing, and secretly praying in our hearts that it was going to be as okay as we hoped it would. Finally, the doctor came out. She did so well he let her go home the same day...Happy Thanksgiving! I was able to stay with my mom for a few days. I did the things I could to help her...laundry, dishes, fixing her hair and standing in the bathroom with her as she examined her new scar. She didn't cry or complain. She said how nicely done it was. This is not the first time she's had to deal with an imperfect body. She has no hearing in one ear and wears a hearing aid in the other, wears glasses, and lives with one side of her face being immovable due to nerve damage. She jokes about falling apart piece by piece. The truth is...my mom is more than the sum of her parts. Her most important part - her soul- can never be surgically removed. She's strong, beautiful, and full of faith...loved by everyone who knows her. Especially this child...just another piece of her.
Posted by Fonda at 5:46 PM
Posted by Fonda at 5:46 PM
IN THE TRENCHES (Cont. from 'The Battle Plan')
It's one thing for the General to study the information and lay out a battle plan for war. It is quite another thing for the soldier to enter the trenches and start shooting back at the enemy.
The doctor had studied the enemy and found out where the it was located. Now we were entering the trenches together to eradicate this frightful monster. We chose to have this surgery the day before Thanksgiving, so that I could use the holiday to save myself some lost time at work.
I arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They got me dressed for surgery, and by 8:15 I was on my way over to radiology to get the radioactive dye shot into my breast to track the lymph system. [ This is called 'sentinel node biopsy'. The lymph system carries the dye to the first lymph node, and then the next, and so on. Later, during surgery, the surgeon uses a tracking device to follow it to the first, then second lymph node, and removes them. Right there, during surgery, the pathologist analyzes those, and if they are clear of cancer cells, there is no need to remove more. If there are cancer cells in any lymph node, they keep tracking to the next one, until they are clear, or until they decide the cells are more places than they can get to that day. They only removed three of my nodes and there was no cancer in any of them.] When I arrived at radiology, the nurse rolled me into a small room, gathered supplies, and said to me, "Okay, let me see if I can find a radiologist to inject this" and she promptly started looking in all the upper cabinets! I said, "Is that where you keep your radiologists? in the cabinets?" We had a good laugh, and she did find a radiologist; Dr. Strange! (Don't you find that a little strange?) He made four injections into the skin of my breast, which stung, and swelled like a hornet's sting. They asked me if I was doing okay, and I said "Yes, just let me make an ugly face, and I'll be alright". (Later, a good friend was telling me that she hadn't fared so well. She kept passing out.) After the injections were all in, they wheeled me back to the room where I started, and friends and family came in to see me. We visited for about an hour and a half till the nurses came to get me for surgery. I made most of them leave when it was time for the 'happy shot' (which makes the patient happy and not care what she says. For some reason, I had been made fun of for the things I said at a former surgery a few years back.) My 'network' prayed for me and left the room, and I was on my way to surgery. I barely remember saying good morning to the surgeon. At least, I think it was him. He had a mask on his face. I think he was planning to rob me. (And sure enough, when I woke up, that left breast was GONE!)
The nurse woke me up about 2:00 p.m. and asked about my pain level on a scale of 1 to 10. I said, "1 or 2", and she gave me morphine. (What might I have gotten if I'd said 8-10?) I woke up very well, and stayed till I was able to dribble just a little bit of water, and walk up and down the hall. They let me go home by 7:30. I had expected to stay in the hospital 24 hours, and I was only there 12. And I was thankful. After all, it was Thanksgiving Holidays, right?
Several people called to see how I was doing. (More of the 'network') My 3 daughters were in and around for the holidays, helping with the household chores. I was feeling well, despite the drains dangling from my chest. My good friend, Liz, a registered nurse, come by to assist me in removing the bandages. I was nervous about that. I guess I was expecting blood and bruises, or something. But when we removed the bandages, the wound was clean and the seam was straight. I remember thinking, "My home economics teacher would have been proud. HA!" Seriously, it was a very sobering moment. My daughter, Fonda was there and she wrote about it on her blog. I asked her permission to print it here, and she said yes. So the next entry is from Fonda, "Peace about Pieces". (to be continued)
The doctor had studied the enemy and found out where the it was located. Now we were entering the trenches together to eradicate this frightful monster. We chose to have this surgery the day before Thanksgiving, so that I could use the holiday to save myself some lost time at work.
I arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They got me dressed for surgery, and by 8:15 I was on my way over to radiology to get the radioactive dye shot into my breast to track the lymph system. [ This is called 'sentinel node biopsy'. The lymph system carries the dye to the first lymph node, and then the next, and so on. Later, during surgery, the surgeon uses a tracking device to follow it to the first, then second lymph node, and removes them. Right there, during surgery, the pathologist analyzes those, and if they are clear of cancer cells, there is no need to remove more. If there are cancer cells in any lymph node, they keep tracking to the next one, until they are clear, or until they decide the cells are more places than they can get to that day. They only removed three of my nodes and there was no cancer in any of them.] When I arrived at radiology, the nurse rolled me into a small room, gathered supplies, and said to me, "Okay, let me see if I can find a radiologist to inject this" and she promptly started looking in all the upper cabinets! I said, "Is that where you keep your radiologists? in the cabinets?" We had a good laugh, and she did find a radiologist; Dr. Strange! (Don't you find that a little strange?) He made four injections into the skin of my breast, which stung, and swelled like a hornet's sting. They asked me if I was doing okay, and I said "Yes, just let me make an ugly face, and I'll be alright". (Later, a good friend was telling me that she hadn't fared so well. She kept passing out.) After the injections were all in, they wheeled me back to the room where I started, and friends and family came in to see me. We visited for about an hour and a half till the nurses came to get me for surgery. I made most of them leave when it was time for the 'happy shot' (which makes the patient happy and not care what she says. For some reason, I had been made fun of for the things I said at a former surgery a few years back.) My 'network' prayed for me and left the room, and I was on my way to surgery. I barely remember saying good morning to the surgeon. At least, I think it was him. He had a mask on his face. I think he was planning to rob me. (And sure enough, when I woke up, that left breast was GONE!)
The nurse woke me up about 2:00 p.m. and asked about my pain level on a scale of 1 to 10. I said, "1 or 2", and she gave me morphine. (What might I have gotten if I'd said 8-10?) I woke up very well, and stayed till I was able to dribble just a little bit of water, and walk up and down the hall. They let me go home by 7:30. I had expected to stay in the hospital 24 hours, and I was only there 12. And I was thankful. After all, it was Thanksgiving Holidays, right?
Several people called to see how I was doing. (More of the 'network') My 3 daughters were in and around for the holidays, helping with the household chores. I was feeling well, despite the drains dangling from my chest. My good friend, Liz, a registered nurse, come by to assist me in removing the bandages. I was nervous about that. I guess I was expecting blood and bruises, or something. But when we removed the bandages, the wound was clean and the seam was straight. I remember thinking, "My home economics teacher would have been proud. HA!" Seriously, it was a very sobering moment. My daughter, Fonda was there and she wrote about it on her blog. I asked her permission to print it here, and she said yes. So the next entry is from Fonda, "Peace about Pieces". (to be continued)
Saturday, September 6, 2008
THE BATTLE PLAN (Continued from 'The Network'
Whew! I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long. After I had fallen down the stairs, I had to walk on a walker for a month and my knees still hurt. I got derailed with all that interruption of my life and got stuck in a dark hole of depression for a while. Maybe I'm back on track now and can finish my story.
The Bible tells us, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." (John 8:32) This is sooooo true! Once I knew the truth ('I have cancer', 'the insurance is paying', and 'the network has my back'), I was relieved. I had been stuck in a quandary for a year. Now, I know the truth and I'm free to fight back.
The surgeon said we didn't have to be in an extreme hurry (as in next week), but we should get this done within a month to six weeks. He wanted me to have time to consider my options thoroughly and be comfortable with the process, but to get it all taken care of before it takes me out. He said the tumor had probably been growing for years, and that one more month wouldn't make a significant difference.
After the exam, the doctor said in so many kind words, that he would recommend a full mastectomy, as the lump was large, the breast was small, and there wouldn't be much left anyway. This is what I was expecting. I was ready for it.
So, the hunt was on. The doctor ordered a volley of tests to see if cancer could be detected anywhere else in my body. We did two CT scans, Bone scan, Blood tests, and ex-rays. All the tests came back negative, which is really positive, if you know what I mean. There was no cancer found anywhere else, but the CT scan showed that I had big cysts on my ovaries. Therefore, the doctors were recommending a complete hysterectomy following the mastectomy.
Well! This was NEEWWS to me. At age 54, I was still having my periods as regular as clockwork and having no pain or problems with it, except I had named the monthly experience "Niagara Falls" for a reason. (In my mind, I had also linked the idea of still having my periods to longevity of life.) I told the gynecologist that I couldn't believe this! I had friends who were bleeding to death, and they couldn't get a hysterectomy. I told him I was bringing all my bleeding friends to him. He just sat there with an amused look on his face and listened till I finished talking. Then he asked me if I wanted any more babies. (Are you kidding? At age 54?!) Of course, I said no, and he said since I was finished with this equipment, let's remove it, mainly because the breast cancer was feeding on the estrogen from the ovaries. After mulling it over for a few days, I could see the good sense in it. In fact, it might save my life.
So, at this point, the plan sounded like this: Mastectomy within a month. After six weeks to recoup, a hysterectomy. After six more weeks to recoup again, 8 rounds of chemotherapy, followed by 30 radiation treatments, and 5 years of Arimidex, an estrogen blocker. (The idea is, if there is any cancer cell lurking around, looking for a place to take root, it will starve to death for lack of estrogen.) Wow! This physical tune-up was quickly turning into a major overhaul! I could see it was gonna be a loooong year. TO BE CONTINUED . . . .
The Bible tells us, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." (John 8:32) This is sooooo true! Once I knew the truth ('I have cancer', 'the insurance is paying', and 'the network has my back'), I was relieved. I had been stuck in a quandary for a year. Now, I know the truth and I'm free to fight back.
The surgeon said we didn't have to be in an extreme hurry (as in next week), but we should get this done within a month to six weeks. He wanted me to have time to consider my options thoroughly and be comfortable with the process, but to get it all taken care of before it takes me out. He said the tumor had probably been growing for years, and that one more month wouldn't make a significant difference.
After the exam, the doctor said in so many kind words, that he would recommend a full mastectomy, as the lump was large, the breast was small, and there wouldn't be much left anyway. This is what I was expecting. I was ready for it.
So, the hunt was on. The doctor ordered a volley of tests to see if cancer could be detected anywhere else in my body. We did two CT scans, Bone scan, Blood tests, and ex-rays. All the tests came back negative, which is really positive, if you know what I mean. There was no cancer found anywhere else, but the CT scan showed that I had big cysts on my ovaries. Therefore, the doctors were recommending a complete hysterectomy following the mastectomy.
Well! This was NEEWWS to me. At age 54, I was still having my periods as regular as clockwork and having no pain or problems with it, except I had named the monthly experience "Niagara Falls" for a reason. (In my mind, I had also linked the idea of still having my periods to longevity of life.) I told the gynecologist that I couldn't believe this! I had friends who were bleeding to death, and they couldn't get a hysterectomy. I told him I was bringing all my bleeding friends to him. He just sat there with an amused look on his face and listened till I finished talking. Then he asked me if I wanted any more babies. (Are you kidding? At age 54?!) Of course, I said no, and he said since I was finished with this equipment, let's remove it, mainly because the breast cancer was feeding on the estrogen from the ovaries. After mulling it over for a few days, I could see the good sense in it. In fact, it might save my life.
So, at this point, the plan sounded like this: Mastectomy within a month. After six weeks to recoup, a hysterectomy. After six more weeks to recoup again, 8 rounds of chemotherapy, followed by 30 radiation treatments, and 5 years of Arimidex, an estrogen blocker. (The idea is, if there is any cancer cell lurking around, looking for a place to take root, it will starve to death for lack of estrogen.) Wow! This physical tune-up was quickly turning into a major overhaul! I could see it was gonna be a loooong year. TO BE CONTINUED . . . .
Sunday, July 20, 2008
THE GIFT AND THE NETWORK
(Continued from 'A Distressing Day.'
For that first year of a yo-yo ride between fear and faith, I had prayed mostly by myself about the uncertain things I was facing, because I hadn't told anyone else. There were times when I didn't even know how to begin praying, I was so afraid. And God gave me a Gift. Nearly every time I opened my mouth to pray, or if I began to think about my situation in fear, the Holy Spirit prayed through me, in words I didn't understand. I didn't know what He was saying, but I knew that He knew what to say. So I have leaned on Him for all this time, letting Him carry my heart to God on the words of His will, and He hasn't let me down. I feel intervention, and comfort when He prays. I know He is interceding for me and for other concerns that weigh heavy on my mind. And maybe for things that are too big for me to know.
This is a precious gift. It has been so personal and private that I hesitate to say it to anyone, except maybe you will need this gift at an intense trial in your life. If He comes to you this way, trust Him and receive the gift of His intercession. He knows what to pray for when we can't even think.
Then God gave me another gift. The Network.
When I went into surgery (a future post), there were about 8 -10 people waiting with me for the surgery nurse to come take me away. Fonda told the nurses this was my network, like the Verizon commercials. And she is right. Those people were just the tip of the iceberg of a network of God's believing people, who were praying for me. Like I said before, we have pastored in this small town of 4000 for 25 years. Other believers from other churches were praying for me. And they were e-mailing to who knows where and getting me on other prayer lists for other believers to pray. I have felt myself carried by people's prayers since the news of my cancer got out. Anywhere a believer is, is a link to His network of healing in any part of our lives. Don't be a weak link. You never know when someone's life may be on the line. Maybe yours. You can avail yourself to this very same network.
For that first year of a yo-yo ride between fear and faith, I had prayed mostly by myself about the uncertain things I was facing, because I hadn't told anyone else. There were times when I didn't even know how to begin praying, I was so afraid. And God gave me a Gift. Nearly every time I opened my mouth to pray, or if I began to think about my situation in fear, the Holy Spirit prayed through me, in words I didn't understand. I didn't know what He was saying, but I knew that He knew what to say. So I have leaned on Him for all this time, letting Him carry my heart to God on the words of His will, and He hasn't let me down. I feel intervention, and comfort when He prays. I know He is interceding for me and for other concerns that weigh heavy on my mind. And maybe for things that are too big for me to know.
This is a precious gift. It has been so personal and private that I hesitate to say it to anyone, except maybe you will need this gift at an intense trial in your life. If He comes to you this way, trust Him and receive the gift of His intercession. He knows what to pray for when we can't even think.
Then God gave me another gift. The Network.
When I went into surgery (a future post), there were about 8 -10 people waiting with me for the surgery nurse to come take me away. Fonda told the nurses this was my network, like the Verizon commercials. And she is right. Those people were just the tip of the iceberg of a network of God's believing people, who were praying for me. Like I said before, we have pastored in this small town of 4000 for 25 years. Other believers from other churches were praying for me. And they were e-mailing to who knows where and getting me on other prayer lists for other believers to pray. I have felt myself carried by people's prayers since the news of my cancer got out. Anywhere a believer is, is a link to His network of healing in any part of our lives. Don't be a weak link. You never know when someone's life may be on the line. Maybe yours. You can avail yourself to this very same network.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A DISTRESSING DAY
(Continued from ' The Provision)
In late October 2007, while I was at school, I got a call from the place I had gotten my mammogram back in February. The lady asked me if I was coming back for that follow-up mammogram. She said the program had funds to pay for it and that I better get down there, because that lump was big and threatening. I told her I had already been bitten by the 'free mammogram bug' before and to forgive me for not believing her. She said the lady who was over her office before, hadn't done her billing right and that was why there was no money to cover me back in February, but there was money to cover me now, even if I had to get treatment. Well, she got me all scared and upset. Then I got afraid the insurance would say "pre-existing" because I knew the lump was there, and not pay. Friends told me to forget about the 'free' system and go to Cape where there was good doctors and good equipment. Just start over. I called one place and told them I needed a mammogram. They asked had I been there before, and I said no. Then she asked if I had ever had a mammogram, and I had to say yes. She asked when. When I told her Feb 07, she said they couldn't do it less than a year apart. I said, in desperation, "You don't understand. I have a huge lump, and I'm supposed to be going back for a follow-up, and I've missed it because I don't know if it will be paid for or not." It was a low faith point for sure. She said to call my family doctor to refer me and get it set up. By then I was ready to go home, crawl into the back of a dark closet and have myself a good cry. I was SO afraid and upset! I didn't trust the 'free' system. I didn't trust the 'insurance' system. My husband didn't seem to understand the terror I was experiencing. And I wasn't telling anyone else the depth of my problem. I was feeling extremely alone. So I went to the bathroom, and prayed to God, whom I do trust. He seemed to direct me to call my family doctor. So I called her and explained the whole situation. She had me and my husband to come to the office. She really calmed me down and explained how we could call the other Women's Care place in Cape, and start over with a full mammogram, and get a biopsy the same day; the whole works. And that the insurance would be okay. So I went and had a complete mammogram, and biopsy, and the lump turned out to be cancerous. And the insurance was okay. Actually, I was more relieved than I had been for a year. The whole last year had been a yo-yo ride of emotions between fear and faith. I know I'm not making a long story short. But it hasn't been short for me, and it's taking you a lot less time to read about it, than it took me to live it through. Isn't that right? (to be continued)
In late October 2007, while I was at school, I got a call from the place I had gotten my mammogram back in February. The lady asked me if I was coming back for that follow-up mammogram. She said the program had funds to pay for it and that I better get down there, because that lump was big and threatening. I told her I had already been bitten by the 'free mammogram bug' before and to forgive me for not believing her. She said the lady who was over her office before, hadn't done her billing right and that was why there was no money to cover me back in February, but there was money to cover me now, even if I had to get treatment. Well, she got me all scared and upset. Then I got afraid the insurance would say "pre-existing" because I knew the lump was there, and not pay. Friends told me to forget about the 'free' system and go to Cape where there was good doctors and good equipment. Just start over. I called one place and told them I needed a mammogram. They asked had I been there before, and I said no. Then she asked if I had ever had a mammogram, and I had to say yes. She asked when. When I told her Feb 07, she said they couldn't do it less than a year apart. I said, in desperation, "You don't understand. I have a huge lump, and I'm supposed to be going back for a follow-up, and I've missed it because I don't know if it will be paid for or not." It was a low faith point for sure. She said to call my family doctor to refer me and get it set up. By then I was ready to go home, crawl into the back of a dark closet and have myself a good cry. I was SO afraid and upset! I didn't trust the 'free' system. I didn't trust the 'insurance' system. My husband didn't seem to understand the terror I was experiencing. And I wasn't telling anyone else the depth of my problem. I was feeling extremely alone. So I went to the bathroom, and prayed to God, whom I do trust. He seemed to direct me to call my family doctor. So I called her and explained the whole situation. She had me and my husband to come to the office. She really calmed me down and explained how we could call the other Women's Care place in Cape, and start over with a full mammogram, and get a biopsy the same day; the whole works. And that the insurance would be okay. So I went and had a complete mammogram, and biopsy, and the lump turned out to be cancerous. And the insurance was okay. Actually, I was more relieved than I had been for a year. The whole last year had been a yo-yo ride of emotions between fear and faith. I know I'm not making a long story short. But it hasn't been short for me, and it's taking you a lot less time to read about it, than it took me to live it through. Isn't that right? (to be continued)
THE PROVISION
(Continued from 'The Discovery')
After the job fell through at the post office, I heard about a job at the school, and applied for it. Well, someone else got that job, and I was a little discouraged. But I had been praying about this whole situation for months by this time. I had waded through a whole gamut of negative thoughts and emotions, and had prayed it through to the point to remember that; live, die,sink, or swim, God Almighty is the one who takes care of me. Husbands are limited, but God is not. A few days later, the school called and asked if I'd like to sub for another teacher. She was a para professional, which means she is a student aid, and in this case, to one student who is in a wheel chair. The teacher said she had hurt her back pushing the chair. So I subbed for her about 2 weeks. The school moved her to another classroom situation, and they asked me if I wanted to take the job. So I got full-time work, with health insurance. This happened in September 2007.
After the job fell through at the post office, I heard about a job at the school, and applied for it. Well, someone else got that job, and I was a little discouraged. But I had been praying about this whole situation for months by this time. I had waded through a whole gamut of negative thoughts and emotions, and had prayed it through to the point to remember that; live, die,sink, or swim, God Almighty is the one who takes care of me. Husbands are limited, but God is not. A few days later, the school called and asked if I'd like to sub for another teacher. She was a para professional, which means she is a student aid, and in this case, to one student who is in a wheel chair. The teacher said she had hurt her back pushing the chair. So I subbed for her about 2 weeks. The school moved her to another classroom situation, and they asked me if I wanted to take the job. So I got full-time work, with health insurance. This happened in September 2007.
THE DISCOVERY
I have hit an experience in life that is like no other. I hope I am coming to the end of it soon. Some of my friends have said I should blog about it. So now that I have introduced you to my family, I will share my story. Maybe you have one similar. Or maybe you will be encouraged by mine.
In October 2006, I discovered a large lump in the left side of my left breast. It felt about the size of a vanilla wafer or Oreo cookie, standing up on it's side. I didn't find it in the usual breast exam, although I did those regularly. I was standing in the shower and felt the heaviness of it when I washed my breast. Then, in front of the mirror, I could see how it was slightly pulling the contour of the breast out of line. I thought, "Oh my! How did that get there and get that big without me finding it before?"
Well, I was one of those middle class American people who had no health insurance, so this discovery threw me into a spin. I knew if I told my sisters, or my church sisters about it, they would all start hounding me to get a mammogram, which I didn't have the money for. So I started trying to figure out what to do. I told my husband about it, and he mentioned that we didn't have the money to get it checked out. I already knew that. And he said maybe it wasn't anything, because there is no history of breast cancer in my family. (Although, my mother did die of colon cancer.) I began to think I was doomed to die. If I got the money to check it out, where in the world was I going to get the money for treatment, if it was needed? So, I decided to get my house in order, just in case. I took out a life insurance, which my husband made me cancel. (I think he was scared, and we already had a smaller life insurance in place.) Then friends told me that if I was over 50, I could get a mammogram for free. So, I contacted the 'free' place, and got a mammogram which cost me over $300. In two weeks, I got a note from them that said, "There is a large mass there, but it is not malignant. Come back in 6 months for a follow-up." I had met 2 ladies on the day of my tests, who said they had lumps that had been there a long time, and were nothing. I thought I had taken care of the problem. So, very relieved, I told all my sisters. They said, "Did they do a biopsy?" I said, "No." They said, "How can they know without a biopsy?" So I went on, somewhat relieved, but with the nagging idea in the back of my head that maybe there was reason to worry.
Since my youngest child had graduated, I decided to get a job. If I lived, I'd prepare for retirement. If not, maybe I wouldn't leave my family with debts to pay. I'd always been a stay-at-home mom, and a 'bonus associate' to my pastor husband. But I didn't really have any job skills or college degree. It had been 27 years since I had worked in a public job, or even filled out an application. I saw a flier in the post office about a job for substitute rural carrier, contacted the right people, passed the test, got called in for an interview, and didn't get the job. That was just as well, because I would be at their beck and call, and would have to provide my own vehicle, which I didn't have. They paid well for the hours you worked, but didn't guarantee any hours, and you would have to work in all kinds of weather, do heavy lifting, and they didn't provide health insurance.
In October 2006, I discovered a large lump in the left side of my left breast. It felt about the size of a vanilla wafer or Oreo cookie, standing up on it's side. I didn't find it in the usual breast exam, although I did those regularly. I was standing in the shower and felt the heaviness of it when I washed my breast. Then, in front of the mirror, I could see how it was slightly pulling the contour of the breast out of line. I thought, "Oh my! How did that get there and get that big without me finding it before?"
Well, I was one of those middle class American people who had no health insurance, so this discovery threw me into a spin. I knew if I told my sisters, or my church sisters about it, they would all start hounding me to get a mammogram, which I didn't have the money for. So I started trying to figure out what to do. I told my husband about it, and he mentioned that we didn't have the money to get it checked out. I already knew that. And he said maybe it wasn't anything, because there is no history of breast cancer in my family. (Although, my mother did die of colon cancer.) I began to think I was doomed to die. If I got the money to check it out, where in the world was I going to get the money for treatment, if it was needed? So, I decided to get my house in order, just in case. I took out a life insurance, which my husband made me cancel. (I think he was scared, and we already had a smaller life insurance in place.) Then friends told me that if I was over 50, I could get a mammogram for free. So, I contacted the 'free' place, and got a mammogram which cost me over $300. In two weeks, I got a note from them that said, "There is a large mass there, but it is not malignant. Come back in 6 months for a follow-up." I had met 2 ladies on the day of my tests, who said they had lumps that had been there a long time, and were nothing. I thought I had taken care of the problem. So, very relieved, I told all my sisters. They said, "Did they do a biopsy?" I said, "No." They said, "How can they know without a biopsy?" So I went on, somewhat relieved, but with the nagging idea in the back of my head that maybe there was reason to worry.
Since my youngest child had graduated, I decided to get a job. If I lived, I'd prepare for retirement. If not, maybe I wouldn't leave my family with debts to pay. I'd always been a stay-at-home mom, and a 'bonus associate' to my pastor husband. But I didn't really have any job skills or college degree. It had been 27 years since I had worked in a public job, or even filled out an application. I saw a flier in the post office about a job for substitute rural carrier, contacted the right people, passed the test, got called in for an interview, and didn't get the job. That was just as well, because I would be at their beck and call, and would have to provide my own vehicle, which I didn't have. They paid well for the hours you worked, but didn't guarantee any hours, and you would have to work in all kinds of weather, do heavy lifting, and they didn't provide health insurance.
Don't ever forget. God knows what we need before we even ask.
(To be continued)
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
A LEG TO STAND ON
That's what I have. A leg to stand on. One leg. I can't stand on the other one, because I twisted it, falling off the steps. And that's not all. The doctor's report says "A fat blood level is suspected . . ." in my knee! Well! I knew I'd gained some weight in the last 6 months, but a 'fat blood level'?
Since I've twisted my knee out of order, my back is stooped, and my palms are numb from walking with a walker. My opposite hip, knee, and ankle joints are strained and sore. The bottom of my opposite foot gets numb from standing and walking on it. My feelings are agitated because I am hindered in doing anything that I might normally do. I don't even do all the things to get dressed that I would normally, such as make up or binding articles of clothing. In order to drive, I have to make my way out the door; I sit on the top step and scoot on my seat to the bottom step, then hoist the walker over my head to the ground, and push myself up. Then I turn and get my purse, turn around, and head for the car, which is parked by the street. I watch to make sure no traffic is coming from the four-way stop a block and a half away, because when my door is open they have to swing out around me. I start the car, so it will begin cooling down, throw my purse in, get in the car, and then fold and drag my walker in over the top of me to the rider's side. When I arrive at my destination, I go through all this in reverse. Thank God for drive through dining! It is a BIG PAIN to live this way.
I'm not complaining, just explaining. I do enjoy being independent, and I told Beth and Sam that the more I could do for myself, the better off we all are. They have been a big help, and do anything I ask them to. But they have to work, and can't be here all the time.
I've said all that to say this; that's the way it is in the church. Most of us have a 'fat blood level' from soaking up all the blessings and promises of God we can soak up. But the 'knees' are the pray-ers. And if the knees get twisted out of order, it puts all the other dependable parts in serious strain and hindrance. Without prayer, the church doesn't have a leg to stand on.
Since I've twisted my knee out of order, my back is stooped, and my palms are numb from walking with a walker. My opposite hip, knee, and ankle joints are strained and sore. The bottom of my opposite foot gets numb from standing and walking on it. My feelings are agitated because I am hindered in doing anything that I might normally do. I don't even do all the things to get dressed that I would normally, such as make up or binding articles of clothing. In order to drive, I have to make my way out the door; I sit on the top step and scoot on my seat to the bottom step, then hoist the walker over my head to the ground, and push myself up. Then I turn and get my purse, turn around, and head for the car, which is parked by the street. I watch to make sure no traffic is coming from the four-way stop a block and a half away, because when my door is open they have to swing out around me. I start the car, so it will begin cooling down, throw my purse in, get in the car, and then fold and drag my walker in over the top of me to the rider's side. When I arrive at my destination, I go through all this in reverse. Thank God for drive through dining! It is a BIG PAIN to live this way.
I'm not complaining, just explaining. I do enjoy being independent, and I told Beth and Sam that the more I could do for myself, the better off we all are. They have been a big help, and do anything I ask them to. But they have to work, and can't be here all the time.
I've said all that to say this; that's the way it is in the church. Most of us have a 'fat blood level' from soaking up all the blessings and promises of God we can soak up. But the 'knees' are the pray-ers. And if the knees get twisted out of order, it puts all the other dependable parts in serious strain and hindrance. Without prayer, the church doesn't have a leg to stand on.
Monday, June 30, 2008
LOOSE SCREWS
This week I was at Beth's house, and I fell, in the basement. I stepped off the next-to-last step, thinking it was the bottom one. That caused me to have a 16 inch drop, instead of 8 inches, jamming my knee. My leg (the same leg that was broken in a former car wreck, and has a metal rod with screws) twisted under me, throwing me off balance. I fell to the floor with all the grace of a dead chichen being hurled across the room. I just lay there, dreading to move my leg. Beth's friend, Crystal, came in a few minutes later, and found me. I scooted up the stairs on my seat, to the main level of the house, and slid across the floor. Crystal helped me get on the couch. She gave me my cell phone and the TV control, and had to go back outside, where her children were in the pool. When Beth got home about 30 minutes later, she called Sam, and they shuttled me off to the emergency room, where I was tended to promptly. At the doctor's exam, it was realized that all the pain was coming from my knee, so she sent me off to exray with a nice young fellow. He was very kind, and got the pictures done quickly. ( I felt like I was taking his picture, because I couldn't straighten my leg, and I had on a hospital gown.) On the way back, I offered to open the doors, and he said, "No mame, You'll have to go to the other hospital in this town if you want to work. This hospital is a full service place."
After the exrays were read, the doctor came back and told me no bones were broken, but that one of the screws might be just a little loose. She gave me a foam rubber wrap to immoblize my leg, and dismissed me to go home.
So, how much money do you have to pay to find out you have a few loose screws? Any of my friends could have told me that for free!
After the exrays were read, the doctor came back and told me no bones were broken, but that one of the screws might be just a little loose. She gave me a foam rubber wrap to immoblize my leg, and dismissed me to go home.
So, how much money do you have to pay to find out you have a few loose screws? Any of my friends could have told me that for free!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
INLAWS OR OUTLAWS?
Since my children have grown up, they have brought me 3 more children. And I don't mean grandchildren. (Grandchildren are a class in themselves.) What I'm talking about are the in-laws.
Yancey and Sam are my daughters' husbands. And I love them like my own sons. They are both laid back personalities, which is a perfect match for my 'type-A' daughters. I gave a pretty good description of Yancey in my post on becoming a grandparent. He and Fonda have been married for 15 years. I've also mentioned Sam in a former post. He is very talented in music, and has a memory out of this world. He enjoys knowing various and unusual facts about the world. He also used to say he would like to work at the zoo! (I haven't heard about that for a while. But he has created a bird aviary in the back yard.) He enjoys working on the computer, and wants to build he own. He is the one who set me up with my e-mail.
Rejhaun is engaged to my son, Austin. They live far away, and we don't see them often. But she writes me or calls me every few weeks and they are doing okay. She graduated from college, Summa Cum Laude, with a degree in criminal justice. She is a good cook, and also a type-A woman. I enjoy her company. Austin's laid back personality goes well with her. We're looking forward to the wedding.
So I think they are all IN-laws. All it takes to remain IN-laws in my book, is to keep loving and respecting my children. If they ever stop doing that, they will probably be on the OUTS with me. I guess that would make them OUT-laws, wouldn't it?
They have all become mine to claim. I treat them like my own, praying for them and holding them accountable. I love them all. We'll just wait awhile and see what Cassie brings home! I bet we'll be surprised how we'll love him, too.
Yancey and Sam are my daughters' husbands. And I love them like my own sons. They are both laid back personalities, which is a perfect match for my 'type-A' daughters. I gave a pretty good description of Yancey in my post on becoming a grandparent. He and Fonda have been married for 15 years. I've also mentioned Sam in a former post. He is very talented in music, and has a memory out of this world. He enjoys knowing various and unusual facts about the world. He also used to say he would like to work at the zoo! (I haven't heard about that for a while. But he has created a bird aviary in the back yard.) He enjoys working on the computer, and wants to build he own. He is the one who set me up with my e-mail.
Rejhaun is engaged to my son, Austin. They live far away, and we don't see them often. But she writes me or calls me every few weeks and they are doing okay. She graduated from college, Summa Cum Laude, with a degree in criminal justice. She is a good cook, and also a type-A woman. I enjoy her company. Austin's laid back personality goes well with her. We're looking forward to the wedding.
So I think they are all IN-laws. All it takes to remain IN-laws in my book, is to keep loving and respecting my children. If they ever stop doing that, they will probably be on the OUTS with me. I guess that would make them OUT-laws, wouldn't it?
They have all become mine to claim. I treat them like my own, praying for them and holding them accountable. I love them all. We'll just wait awhile and see what Cassie brings home! I bet we'll be surprised how we'll love him, too.
Sleeping Through the Process
This post is about Cassie, the baby of the family. Until she got in high school, she never caused any trouble, except when she was sleeping. When she was about 2, she came up missing. For over an hour, we looked for her. We couldn't find her in the house or yard. She had been excited about hearing the ice cream truck earlier, so we went across the block to see if anyone had seen her there. Someone on that street described a little girl like her and said she had been dragged into a car with no license, kicking and screaming. We thought, "Oh, God! The thing that we have feared has come upon us. Our child has been kidnapped!" That car and that little girl were found a half hour later, on the next block. But ours was still missing. Half the town had come to help us look for her. We had looked along the streets, and at the park. We were praying, frantic and in despair. About the time we decided to call our folks with the bad news, a young friend, Kelly, found her asleep on the top bunk with a pile of clothes pulled up over her. She had slept through the whole thing.
One Sunday evening, when she was still small, we were getting ready for church. Dad and the kids left ahead of me, and I hollered "Take Cassie with you". They said "Okay." So I finished getting myself together, and looked on the bed where Cassie had been sleeping, just to make sure that they had taken her. She was gone, so I assumed they did. When I got to church, I looked for Cassie, and she was nowhere to be seen. I asked, "Where is Cassie?" Beth said, "Dad said to leave her on the couch at home; that you would bring her." So I rushed back home, and there she was, sleeping on the couch. Again, she had slept through the whole thing.
When she was four, she was riding on the back seat of a church van, leaning up over the back of the seat in front of her, dozing. We had a head-on collision, and she came flying over the seats, getting her head crammed into the glove box. The impact broke open her skull and blood was spurting out at every heartbeat. The van caught on fire, so the man in the truck behind us dragged us out of the vehicle. I was also hurt and unconscious, so I was no help. (And I had gone with the kids to take care of them!) Cassie had emergency brain surgery to remove fragments of her brain and repair the broken skull. She walked out of that hospital in nine days! A miracle! Another bad thing that God has turned for the good.
Well, of course with all this trauma, we babied her ridiculously. And she soaked up the spoiling like a sponge. Used it to her advantage many times. She hated school from kindergarten on, but was no trouble to the teachers, until high school. Those were tumultuous days, but she made it through, revealing lovely artistic talents, and graduated. (Maybe she slept through that, too?)
Now she is in the process of breaking away from the nest. Or maybe it is us who are in the process of trying to let her go. We've been here 3 times before, but it isn't any easier with the last one through the door. It is my observation that it takes at least five years for this process to bring a person to enough maturity for someone to cut the apron strings of parenthood. (And it always feels like the kid is hacking away at them with a pair of dull scissors. Oh no, that's not the apron strings. There is too much pain! It's the heart strings!) We don't hear from her often, because she wants to 'do it herself!' If I learned anything from that car wreck when Cassie was small, it is this; God is the one who takes care of my children even if I am with them. Or if I'm not. He loves her more than I do, and he knows her better than me. He has a purpose for her life and is fully well able to finish what he started. So maybe I'll just sleep this one through, while she and God work through the process.
One Sunday evening, when she was still small, we were getting ready for church. Dad and the kids left ahead of me, and I hollered "Take Cassie with you". They said "Okay." So I finished getting myself together, and looked on the bed where Cassie had been sleeping, just to make sure that they had taken her. She was gone, so I assumed they did. When I got to church, I looked for Cassie, and she was nowhere to be seen. I asked, "Where is Cassie?" Beth said, "Dad said to leave her on the couch at home; that you would bring her." So I rushed back home, and there she was, sleeping on the couch. Again, she had slept through the whole thing.
When she was four, she was riding on the back seat of a church van, leaning up over the back of the seat in front of her, dozing. We had a head-on collision, and she came flying over the seats, getting her head crammed into the glove box. The impact broke open her skull and blood was spurting out at every heartbeat. The van caught on fire, so the man in the truck behind us dragged us out of the vehicle. I was also hurt and unconscious, so I was no help. (And I had gone with the kids to take care of them!) Cassie had emergency brain surgery to remove fragments of her brain and repair the broken skull. She walked out of that hospital in nine days! A miracle! Another bad thing that God has turned for the good.
Well, of course with all this trauma, we babied her ridiculously. And she soaked up the spoiling like a sponge. Used it to her advantage many times. She hated school from kindergarten on, but was no trouble to the teachers, until high school. Those were tumultuous days, but she made it through, revealing lovely artistic talents, and graduated. (Maybe she slept through that, too?)
Now she is in the process of breaking away from the nest. Or maybe it is us who are in the process of trying to let her go. We've been here 3 times before, but it isn't any easier with the last one through the door. It is my observation that it takes at least five years for this process to bring a person to enough maturity for someone to cut the apron strings of parenthood. (And it always feels like the kid is hacking away at them with a pair of dull scissors. Oh no, that's not the apron strings. There is too much pain! It's the heart strings!) We don't hear from her often, because she wants to 'do it herself!' If I learned anything from that car wreck when Cassie was small, it is this; God is the one who takes care of my children even if I am with them. Or if I'm not. He loves her more than I do, and he knows her better than me. He has a purpose for her life and is fully well able to finish what he started. So maybe I'll just sleep this one through, while she and God work through the process.
Monday, May 26, 2008
UP IN THE AIR
This post is about my son, Austin. Being six years behind his older sisters, he was a favorite to them, until he learned the pleasure of pestering them. He could get them up in the air pretty quick. But they also forgave him just a quick. Once he got a beebe gun for Christmas. He was down in a big box, and Beth was trying to get the gun from him. She accidently shot him in the lower lip. He screamed out, and covered his face. From the kitchen, we heard "Oh my God, I've shot him." Well, we expected the worst, and came running. Dad had to squeeze the shot out of his lip, and he got okay. He sure had Beth in the air that day. When Austin was about 2, Fonda convinced him that if he came into her room, the curtain, which was her door, would pinch him. She stood behind the curtain and pinched him when he decided to try it. He was convinced. After baby sister, Cassie came along, he was scrouged out of the parent bed, so he was making the rounds of the other beds to keep from having to sleep by himself. Fonda told him he was not going to sleep in her bed. But she did let him sleep on the floor by her bed. That was good enough for him. (Who would have ever thought she would turn out to be such a good mother?) Next time, he asked Beth first, and got a better welcome.
Austin made straight A's from kindergarten on, with the older sisters saying, 'Just you wait; middle school is harder' and then 'Just you wait; you won't do that in high school'. He continued to make excellent grades, (maybe not all A's, but high grades), even in college algebra, and college calculus.
He worked summers for a local farmer throughout high school. He enjoyed the work, and Mr. Wally thought highly of him, teaching him many things about farming and life in general. One day, Austin had to 'flag' for the crop dusters, which involves standing at the end of the field to mark the row for the pilot as he sprays chemicals on the crops. That is when he decided he wanted to fly. For his sixteenth birthday, his dad got him a flight in a small plane. After graduation, he went to college and earned a 'Professional Pilot' degree. He now teaches flight, and is learning to fly bigger planes. Next will be a jet. Maybe someday, he'll be flying for some corporation, and like Dr. Seuss says, 'Oh, the places you'll go.'
Austin is engaged to Rejhaun, and this is how he asked her to marry him. He was flying for a sky diving outfit near the college. They required him to tandem dive (strapped to an instructor). So he asked Rejhaun if she wanted to go skydiving. She said yes, (which I thought was funny, since she didn't even want to get on Cassie's horse a few days earlier). They took off. Austin was the first to jump, then after he had landed, the plane came back across the field and Rejhaun jumped (tandem, also, of course). As she was coming down, she saw in large letters across the field. I LOVE YOU. WILL YOU MARRY ME? When she landed, there was Austin on one knee with an engagement ring in his hand. Of course, she said 'YES!' Later, Austin said that he figured if she just landed alive, she couldn't say anything but yes! ;) They haven't set a date, yet, but when they do, we'll be glad to be there.
My sister said, " Well, Austin always did like to keep people up in the air." So what can I say? There he goes 'up in the air and flying high'.
Austin made straight A's from kindergarten on, with the older sisters saying, 'Just you wait; middle school is harder' and then 'Just you wait; you won't do that in high school'. He continued to make excellent grades, (maybe not all A's, but high grades), even in college algebra, and college calculus.
He worked summers for a local farmer throughout high school. He enjoyed the work, and Mr. Wally thought highly of him, teaching him many things about farming and life in general. One day, Austin had to 'flag' for the crop dusters, which involves standing at the end of the field to mark the row for the pilot as he sprays chemicals on the crops. That is when he decided he wanted to fly. For his sixteenth birthday, his dad got him a flight in a small plane. After graduation, he went to college and earned a 'Professional Pilot' degree. He now teaches flight, and is learning to fly bigger planes. Next will be a jet. Maybe someday, he'll be flying for some corporation, and like Dr. Seuss says, 'Oh, the places you'll go.'
Austin is engaged to Rejhaun, and this is how he asked her to marry him. He was flying for a sky diving outfit near the college. They required him to tandem dive (strapped to an instructor). So he asked Rejhaun if she wanted to go skydiving. She said yes, (which I thought was funny, since she didn't even want to get on Cassie's horse a few days earlier). They took off. Austin was the first to jump, then after he had landed, the plane came back across the field and Rejhaun jumped (tandem, also, of course). As she was coming down, she saw in large letters across the field. I LOVE YOU. WILL YOU MARRY ME? When she landed, there was Austin on one knee with an engagement ring in his hand. Of course, she said 'YES!' Later, Austin said that he figured if she just landed alive, she couldn't say anything but yes! ;) They haven't set a date, yet, but when they do, we'll be glad to be there.
My sister said, " Well, Austin always did like to keep people up in the air." So what can I say? There he goes 'up in the air and flying high'.
Monday, May 19, 2008
THE MIDDLE CHILD
I have four children; Fonda, the 'first born', Beth, the 'middle child', Austin, the 'only son', and Cassie the 'baby of the family'. Of things I've read about sibling sequence, many things prove classic in my children. I discussed Fonda somewhat in my post about becoming a grand mother. She is smart, and very much prone to do the good things her parents have expected of her, including marrying a good man. She has overcome some issues in her life on a grand scale. She has become a wonderful wife and mother, and I enjoy the company of her grown womanhood.
Beth is my middle child, following close on the heels of Fonda, the first born. (Remember the girl in 'A Million Miles' hanging out the window, asking her dad if he say the detour sign?) Beth was always the "mother hen" sister, worrying about anything that threatened any of us, and laying aside her own needs to prefer the rest of us. Until she turned 15! Then all of a sudden, she began to have a strong opinion, even if it differed from us, and began to see interesting things in the world that she'd rather pursue, began to question all our expectations, and started demanding her day in the spotlight. She seemed bent on being her own person, even if it meant she couldn't allow herself to like anything that Fonda liked. She is plenty smart enough, very independent, and a hard worker. One day when she was about 24 or so, she said something that thrilled my heart. She said," Before you start school, you think your parents know it all, and they can fix anything. Then you start school and discover your teachers are as smart as you parents. When you hit high school, you decide your parents don't know anything. Then comes college, and you sure know your parents are all wrong, because the world has so many new ideas that your parents surely never knew, because they sure didn't tell you. Then you start working, and paying your own bills, maybe goin without groceries to keep the electric on or to pay the car insurance. It's not as easy as it looked. And you wake up one morning, and realize, 'Crap! My parents were right!' Until she raises children, I'm sure she'll not know how much that meant to me.
Beth went to college three years before she realized she didn't know what degree to pursue, so she decided to quit and work awhile. She worked about 7 years and discovered the passion of counseling. Now she has returned to college to pursue a degree in social work. When she gets her masters degree, she will be ready for counseling others. She has passed the last two semesters with straight A's, and a 4.00 GPA, and she is on the dean's list. Along the way, since high school, she has settled some issues with herself, and also married Sam, a good and smart man, who is a talented musician.
Beth has learned that she can like some of the same things Fonda likes, and still be her own valuable person. What can I say? Jesus says she is worth dying for.
Beth is my middle child, following close on the heels of Fonda, the first born. (Remember the girl in 'A Million Miles' hanging out the window, asking her dad if he say the detour sign?) Beth was always the "mother hen" sister, worrying about anything that threatened any of us, and laying aside her own needs to prefer the rest of us. Until she turned 15! Then all of a sudden, she began to have a strong opinion, even if it differed from us, and began to see interesting things in the world that she'd rather pursue, began to question all our expectations, and started demanding her day in the spotlight. She seemed bent on being her own person, even if it meant she couldn't allow herself to like anything that Fonda liked. She is plenty smart enough, very independent, and a hard worker. One day when she was about 24 or so, she said something that thrilled my heart. She said," Before you start school, you think your parents know it all, and they can fix anything. Then you start school and discover your teachers are as smart as you parents. When you hit high school, you decide your parents don't know anything. Then comes college, and you sure know your parents are all wrong, because the world has so many new ideas that your parents surely never knew, because they sure didn't tell you. Then you start working, and paying your own bills, maybe goin without groceries to keep the electric on or to pay the car insurance. It's not as easy as it looked. And you wake up one morning, and realize, 'Crap! My parents were right!' Until she raises children, I'm sure she'll not know how much that meant to me.
Beth went to college three years before she realized she didn't know what degree to pursue, so she decided to quit and work awhile. She worked about 7 years and discovered the passion of counseling. Now she has returned to college to pursue a degree in social work. When she gets her masters degree, she will be ready for counseling others. She has passed the last two semesters with straight A's, and a 4.00 GPA, and she is on the dean's list. Along the way, since high school, she has settled some issues with herself, and also married Sam, a good and smart man, who is a talented musician.
Beth has learned that she can like some of the same things Fonda likes, and still be her own valuable person. What can I say? Jesus says she is worth dying for.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
BRAGGING? YOU BETCHA!
If you ever think I'm bragging, you can know that I really am. Bragging on Jesus. Many times when I am having trouble with the person in the mirror, his Holy Spirit comes to me, and rescues me by whispering into the depths of my soul, giving me the answers I need for the moment. You may think, "Who is this woman, that she thinks God speaks to her? Isn't that kind of haughty?"
I used to think that about people when I was younger. But, one day I had several bouts of being around people who demanded a lot of me. They were needy in many ways; emotionally, financially, materially, and maybe more. Have you ever been around people like that, who made you feel drained when you left them? That's the way I was feeling at the time. After I complained to God how tired I was, and how drained I felt, I asked him, "Help me see these people the way you see them." Immediately, the answer was whispered into my soul, "Well, I thought they were worth dying for." WOW! If He thought that of them, then their worth should mean more to me, and their bother should mean less. So my attitude has become improved about the people I am with, regardless of their state of life.
A few days later, I was having trouble with my own self-esteem. Someone had criticized me (unjustly, of course), and I was feeling bad about myself. So, I asked God again, "Father, what about me? Help me see myself the way you see me." Again, immediately, he whispered to my soul, "What did I tell you, Sandra? I think you were worth dying for." Again, WOW! If God Almighty thinks that about me, than what does it matter what other people think of me? All I have to worry about pleasing, is God, and I know he loves me.
No, this kind of thinking doesn't make me haughty. Rather, it humbles me to be validated like that. To know that truth, sets me free to serve and lift up others with a glad heart. Specifically, when I know that God loves me like that, then that knowledge fills me up and makes me able to validate and serve others who are just as needy as I was.
These thoughts can be backed up by scripture. John 3:16 tells me that God thinks we are worth dying for. John 8:32 says the truth will set you free and you can act upon the truth that you know.
We have a tendency in life to step on others in order to lift up ourselves. This isn't good, because we are all reaching out to take a piece of someone else to fuel our own need. When we learn to come to God, and get ourselves filled up with Him, then we will be filled to over-flowing and have extra good to put into other needy people, until we can introduce them to the same source where we got our needs met. Just try it, and you'll see. "Taste and see that the Lord is good." Psalm 34:8
I used to think that about people when I was younger. But, one day I had several bouts of being around people who demanded a lot of me. They were needy in many ways; emotionally, financially, materially, and maybe more. Have you ever been around people like that, who made you feel drained when you left them? That's the way I was feeling at the time. After I complained to God how tired I was, and how drained I felt, I asked him, "Help me see these people the way you see them." Immediately, the answer was whispered into my soul, "Well, I thought they were worth dying for." WOW! If He thought that of them, then their worth should mean more to me, and their bother should mean less. So my attitude has become improved about the people I am with, regardless of their state of life.
A few days later, I was having trouble with my own self-esteem. Someone had criticized me (unjustly, of course), and I was feeling bad about myself. So, I asked God again, "Father, what about me? Help me see myself the way you see me." Again, immediately, he whispered to my soul, "What did I tell you, Sandra? I think you were worth dying for." Again, WOW! If God Almighty thinks that about me, than what does it matter what other people think of me? All I have to worry about pleasing, is God, and I know he loves me.
No, this kind of thinking doesn't make me haughty. Rather, it humbles me to be validated like that. To know that truth, sets me free to serve and lift up others with a glad heart. Specifically, when I know that God loves me like that, then that knowledge fills me up and makes me able to validate and serve others who are just as needy as I was.
These thoughts can be backed up by scripture. John 3:16 tells me that God thinks we are worth dying for. John 8:32 says the truth will set you free and you can act upon the truth that you know.
We have a tendency in life to step on others in order to lift up ourselves. This isn't good, because we are all reaching out to take a piece of someone else to fuel our own need. When we learn to come to God, and get ourselves filled up with Him, then we will be filled to over-flowing and have extra good to put into other needy people, until we can introduce them to the same source where we got our needs met. Just try it, and you'll see. "Taste and see that the Lord is good." Psalm 34:8
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Something Beautiful
I woke up with a song on my heart this morning, as I was preparing to go to church.
It goes something like this:
Something beautiful, something good,
All my frustrations, he understood.
All I had to offer him, was brokenness and strife,
But he made something beautiful of my life.
And He really has. God, I mean. I first saw, at age 11, that I was a sinful person, and I needed to ask God to forgive me of my sins, and take charge of my life. I had good parents, who modeled the Christian life before me. They took me to church and family reunions and to funerals in the community. They provided the things I needed; food, clothing, discipline, housing, and school, etc. Sure, they had charge of my life, and were doing a good job. But while I was still under their watchful eye, it was nice that the Holy Spirit showed me that I must become responsible to God, myself, for God has no grandchildren. So, began my journey with God. I was a willful human being, so I was in for some adjustments down through life. As my teenage years approached, and boys became an interesting item, I had to commit that new part of my life to Him. Then I married a preacher, and had to ask God to help me navigate the adjustments of marriage. (Boy, talk about laying down your own will!) Then came children. I had to commit them and their salvation to God. Then we became pastors. That was a big group of people and relationships to commit to Him. Now, we face the 'Empty Nest'. With all these adjustments and new relationships, came some frustrations, some brokenness, and some strife, just like the song says. But God has been faithful in every event. Because, with every stage of life, God has also brought blessing, and built character. All I had to offer him was one willful human being, and if I had run my own life, it might have been broken and full of strife. But I didn't run my own life. I trusted God to take charge and call the shots in my life. So He has done a wonderful job, and He has made something beautiful of my life. And you can trust Him to make something beautiful of your life, too. "I know the plans I have for you,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
It goes something like this:
Something beautiful, something good,
All my frustrations, he understood.
All I had to offer him, was brokenness and strife,
But he made something beautiful of my life.
And He really has. God, I mean. I first saw, at age 11, that I was a sinful person, and I needed to ask God to forgive me of my sins, and take charge of my life. I had good parents, who modeled the Christian life before me. They took me to church and family reunions and to funerals in the community. They provided the things I needed; food, clothing, discipline, housing, and school, etc. Sure, they had charge of my life, and were doing a good job. But while I was still under their watchful eye, it was nice that the Holy Spirit showed me that I must become responsible to God, myself, for God has no grandchildren. So, began my journey with God. I was a willful human being, so I was in for some adjustments down through life. As my teenage years approached, and boys became an interesting item, I had to commit that new part of my life to Him. Then I married a preacher, and had to ask God to help me navigate the adjustments of marriage. (Boy, talk about laying down your own will!) Then came children. I had to commit them and their salvation to God. Then we became pastors. That was a big group of people and relationships to commit to Him. Now, we face the 'Empty Nest'. With all these adjustments and new relationships, came some frustrations, some brokenness, and some strife, just like the song says. But God has been faithful in every event. Because, with every stage of life, God has also brought blessing, and built character. All I had to offer him was one willful human being, and if I had run my own life, it might have been broken and full of strife. But I didn't run my own life. I trusted God to take charge and call the shots in my life. So He has done a wonderful job, and He has made something beautiful of my life. And you can trust Him to make something beautiful of your life, too. "I know the plans I have for you,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Saturday, April 19, 2008
A MILLION MILES?
I was following my husband back from a neighboring town a few days ago, when I thought,"I bet I've followed him a million miles".Sometimes we have to take two vehicles to pull the various toys; boat or four-wheeler trailer, when we go on vacation, to visit family, to campmeeting, or a road trip. Sometimes, I have memorized the current car license he was driving. We used to talk on two-way radios, which embarrassed our children to no end, because they said every one else could hear us. Now we have cell phones, and our conversation is private,much to our children's relief. I've followed him to transport vehicles, and to move our furniture to a new church. I followed him when he answered the call to ministry. He hasn't often lead me wrong, except those rare occasions when he ignored a detour sign, because he couldn't see the road blocked from where he was. We have had to backtrack a few miles for that, sometimes. He lead Bethany, our second daughter home one day from Grandma's, and ingored a detour sign. She just followed him. When he got to the place where the road was blocked a few miles down the road, he turned around in the road, and she followed him, hanging out the window trying to say,"Didn't you see that detour sign back there?" He said, "Follow me, and kept on going back to the detour." He may take the long-route-shortcut, but he always gets where he is going. I hope I can follow till we've been married at least 50 years. Then we'll have a party to celebrate. It'll be nice to both still be driving at that time, right? At least, for us. Maybe not for you all. Anyway, we're gonna keep leading and following till our purpose is done. How far? A million miles? Maybe.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
What More Could a Mother Ask?
Sometimes, we have not, because we ask not. But sometimes we have, when we don't even ask. That's the way grand-parenting came to me. Way earlier than I expected. While my oldest daughter was still in high school. A result of puppy love. (You know the warning of puppy love is that it can turn into a dog's life.) And it could have, but it didn't. It came as a mix of first-time-grandchild excitement and upset about a pre-marital birth. And boy, was it a real upset! We were upset, she was upset, he was upset, his parents were upset, and we were eight years the pastors of a church in a small town. The kind of town where everybody knows every body's business, and talks about it. We all were ashamed, there were harsh words spoken, and tears, and we all repented of whatever part we played in allowing this situation to occur. My daughter told me it wasn't my fault, that it was her choice that brought it about. She had born this knowledge alone for four and a half months before she couldn't hide it any longer. But what mother doesn't feel responsible when her baby is having a baby, not in due time? The church was kind and forgiving when we told them. They said, "How can we reject you at a time like this, when you have nurtured us through some of the same things with our children?" His parents were in it with us, giving their support. The town was kind and supportive. There was very little bad talk that we heard about. A couple of girls at school questioned our second daughter, Beth about the situation, and she very bluntly told them that if she heard one word about them talking bad about her sister, she would know where it came from, and they would have to answer to her. She heard nothing else. There was a baby shower given by friends. Yancey, the boyfriend, stepped up to the plate right away. He sat with Fonda during church every service. He was supportive of her and loving to their baby. He bore his part of shame and blame and embarrassment, and shielded her as well as he knew how. They talked about getting married right away, before the baby came. But my husband wisely counseled them to wait until they graduated from high school. I watched her do her homework many times with Hillary climbing on her back, or playing quietly by her side. She fed, and bathed her, and read her stories. She and Yancey both grew up overnight and became good parents. Fonda graduated valedictorian of her graduating class. They married five days after graduation. They went to college 70 miles away, taking their baby with them. Yancey made special efforts to bond with his little girl. One day when they had no baby sitter, he took her to his college math class, where she sat quietly beside him, coloring and looking at books. I think his teacher looked on him with more respect after that day. I was sure impressed! The third year of college, they added a new baby boy, Parker, to their family, and Fonda made a 4.0 that semester. She graduated college, magna cum laude, December 1997, with a degree in early childhood education. Yancey graduated in 2000 with a degree in high school math. He went on to get his masters degree in math, and Fonda went back to college two years to get a second degree in elementary education. They have moved to a small town in Missouri, a good place to raise their children. They go to church and serve God faithfully. She teaches first grade, and he teaches high school math, and coaches the high school girls basketball, which had a winning season this year. They have been married 15 years, this summer. My granddaughter's name is Hillary, which means 'hilarious'. She is the most joyful person I know. She is helpful and giving. She excels in her school work, and extracurricular activities. She is a musician like her mimi. She is driving, now, and can drive her daddy's 'stick shift' truck. She has a strong comittment to God, and works very well in her youth group at church. I'm impressed. My grandson is Parker. He is a very thoughtful, and thinking type of person. He loves his mama, and respects his daddy. He enjoys spending time with his grandparents. He has good friends in his neighborhood. He enjoys building things with his hands. He is 'first chair' in trumpet, in middle school band. Impressive! How many times have we come to situations that appear so bad, and seen God, our loving heavenly father, turn things around for the good? He gives us blessing after blessing, if we will just trust him. God is merciful. I mean, what more could a mother ask?
Who is Sandy, anyway?
I am Sandra Poole, and my nest is empty of children for the first time in 32 years. They fly back in sometimes to eat and visit and wash clothes, but then they go back and work on their own nest.
When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to do was grow up, marry a preacher, and have 12 kids. (Undue expectations?) I prayed to that effect, and I grew up, and married a preacher. God gave me what I asked for, and he was more than I expected. So I decided I better back up on the number of children. We have four. Three girls and a boy. So I have an oldest child, a middle child, an only son, and a baby girl. They are all grown up now (The youngest, just having left the nest, is still in the fininshing-off stage.) She has moved out to herself, but not very far away. And she doesn't stay gone long. She comes by 4 or 5 times a week for food, gas, or laundry. Or to give her dog a bath in my tub. (Because I have a shower head on a hose. "It's easier in your tub, Mom.") She also has a horse and a pony. I guess I can be thankful she doesn't bring them by to give them a bath. We go to her house often to feed the horses and check on how she is doing. (We also go because we like being in the country and working around the horses.) This child has a job, and is enjoying it and her 'independence'. At least, she is paying her own rent and utilities. So that's a start. I guess I started with the youngest, because that's where I am right now. So this blog can go either forward or backward. That is the magic of having an empty nest. I get to go the direction that I want to go. My life and choices aren't as overrun with so many others' agendas. Only my preacher husband's! Which is plenty. But I feel like his calling is my calling, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Briefly, I have a daughter who teaches, a daughter who is going to school to become a counselor, and a son who teaches people to fly, and as I mentioned, the youngest who is working and beginning to build her own life. I have two sons-in-law whom I love dearly as sons, and who love my daughters and grand-children. And I'm getting a daughter-in-law next year, who I love as a daughter. She is smart and pretty, and she loves my son. What more can a mother ask?
When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to do was grow up, marry a preacher, and have 12 kids. (Undue expectations?) I prayed to that effect, and I grew up, and married a preacher. God gave me what I asked for, and he was more than I expected. So I decided I better back up on the number of children. We have four. Three girls and a boy. So I have an oldest child, a middle child, an only son, and a baby girl. They are all grown up now (The youngest, just having left the nest, is still in the fininshing-off stage.) She has moved out to herself, but not very far away. And she doesn't stay gone long. She comes by 4 or 5 times a week for food, gas, or laundry. Or to give her dog a bath in my tub. (Because I have a shower head on a hose. "It's easier in your tub, Mom.") She also has a horse and a pony. I guess I can be thankful she doesn't bring them by to give them a bath. We go to her house often to feed the horses and check on how she is doing. (We also go because we like being in the country and working around the horses.) This child has a job, and is enjoying it and her 'independence'. At least, she is paying her own rent and utilities. So that's a start. I guess I started with the youngest, because that's where I am right now. So this blog can go either forward or backward. That is the magic of having an empty nest. I get to go the direction that I want to go. My life and choices aren't as overrun with so many others' agendas. Only my preacher husband's! Which is plenty. But I feel like his calling is my calling, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Briefly, I have a daughter who teaches, a daughter who is going to school to become a counselor, and a son who teaches people to fly, and as I mentioned, the youngest who is working and beginning to build her own life. I have two sons-in-law whom I love dearly as sons, and who love my daughters and grand-children. And I'm getting a daughter-in-law next year, who I love as a daughter. She is smart and pretty, and she loves my son. What more can a mother ask?
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