Like Rolling off a Blog

No, thank you. I'd like to decline membership. I've just been admitted to a club I never wanted to join. As a matter of fact, Caroline (my favorite nurse so far) said, "Welcome to the club no one wants to be in." You see, she is also a member. It's called The Breast Cancer Club. Whether you've just been diagnosed (me) or are in treatment or have been cleared for many years, you are part of the club. But I'm choosing to think that's okay. I have friends and acquaintances and friends yet to come who have wisdom and strength I don't yet possess but may be able to share with someone down the road. This morning my loving husband went with me for the initial "results consultation." I was really hoping for, "This was all just a big misunderstanding. You can go home now." But no. The pathologist who read my biopsy results said, "I hate to be the one to relay this kind of news, but I have bad news and I have good news. Yes, yo...

God, You have my attention. But this is an adventure I never wanted to sign up for. I have started the roller coaster of emotions and thoughts, and have to remind myself of the "EVEN IF" clause. On Monday, the 25th of June, I arrived early for my core needle biopsy. Fairly calm, actually. The prayers of my friends were lifting me up, for sure. The staff at Edward mammography is so good at what they do, including caring for the human who is going through some trying times. So, gowned and ready to go, I was covered in a warm blanket by Caroline, while the ultrasound tech circled the trouble spots in purple on my skin. The doctor came in and introduced herself, keeping the conversation friendly and light. Caroline held the hand that wasn't behind my head and patted my arm at various intervals. I think I have a natural aversion for anything that may cause me to get drowsy or resist pain, because they always have to double dose me with the numbing stuff. This was no di...

These words have haunted me most of my life. Nerves and fear follow in their wake. I've turned them to my advantage, as I say it keeps me on my toes and ready for any eventuality. But those words ... what if? ... rob the joy and trust and faith that a believer in Jesus is supposed to have. Next week holds some uncertainties. Tests that could reveal either "benign" or "life threatening." So the "what if" is haunting me once again. God is all powerful. He is all loving. He is all wise. He is everywhere. He is all knowing. God is with me every moment. So why do I fear? Even if ... that's what I need to focus on.

Right now I'm listening to my husband speak to someone on Focus on the Family about what kids remember about dads. The emotional touch points. Not big things. The everyday little things a dad does to make life special. My dad took me on a "date" on my 18th birthday. My mom had to convince me to want to go, because by then it was too little too late. Today I got a sympathy card from someone I knew well when I was in high school and college. This makes the point that my dad was one person to the outside world and another to us as a family. His words are quite complimentary. But they describe the man he knew, not the father I knew. Following are his words: Very sorry to learn yesterday the news of Dale's death. He was a gentle spirit who truly cared about people and their relationships.  While technically he wasn't the first person I met upon arriving at R-G in 11/71 (that distinction belonged to the person staffing the front gate), Dale was my first friend...

Memories ... This past week was full of them, as I leafed through scrapbooks, photo albums, and steamer trunks. As I was part and parcel of two memorial services: one at a national cemetery, and one at a retirement home. It is a shame that all of our earthly life would boil down to scraps in a garage. When our children must go through our possessions, it might be just as well to hire a truck and haul it all away. Sad. To have Father's Day on the heels of the memorials for my dad is just too poignant. The siblings and I heard glowing remembrances from his friends at the retirement center and the church he had chosen to attend. Unfortunately, that was the persona he showed to the outside world. We knew someone totally different. "A great listener." To us ... don't argue with him because he will not listen. "Generous." To us ... all the money spent on strangers and his family forgotten. "A friend to all." To us ... nebulous at best. ...

As I’m reclining and resting after a morning of pre-K Sunday school and an Outback steak, I vaguely recall what Sundays were like when I was a child. My father was a pastor of small rural churches until I was ten years old. On most Sunday mornings, we were up early, dressed in our Sunday best, and eating “dry cereal” before piling into the family station wagon to go get a congregant who had no car. Hymnal page numbers were posted on a wooden sign, big and bold. I sat with my mother until I was old enough to sit alone while she sang in the choir or played the piano. Then after the “children’s sermon” we were dismissed for Sunday School. Off to the church basement we went for Bible stories and songs.  Our family was always the last to leave, of course. Dad had to talk with everyone, and so Mom would wisely pack herself a sandwich just in case her blood sugar dropped too low. Then home for the Sunday dinner, most likely with a singleton, couple, or family who needed a plac...

I come from a long line of control issue folks. My mom, being a Type 1 diabetic, was always super controlled about what she ate and when. My dad, on the other hand, was a food hoarder. We'd often find things hidden in the car or elsewhere. So, you see, I have a history of food swings along with the mood swings. Sometimes I seem to have complete control over what and how much I eat ... other times, total abandon! Long ago, before she became known as a heretic, I was a student of Gwen Shamblin. Initially, her Weigh Down Workshop methodology was all above board. I often wish I had those original VHS tapes. She interspersed physical tips with spiritual ones. The spiritual would always trump the physical, but both were absolutely necessary to stay within certain boundaries. #1 ... Wait for stomach hunger. Some of us don't even remember what that feels or sounds like. The body is fearfully and wonderfully made. When your blood sugar drops to a certain level a signal is sent to ...