tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35371684626528027372024-03-20T05:18:01.770-05:00WinsomebulldogThe name was inspired by my first Bulldog, Katie. Since falling in love with her, I've had the great fortune to share the lives of three additional Bulldogs; Briscoe, Maggie, and Abby. Much of this blog chronicles my journey through diagnosis and treatment for breast cancer. Mostly, this blog is a personal journal of random thoughts and feelings. I hope others find something of interest in my ramblings. winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-11229207082342766252021-03-08T12:01:00.000-06:002021-03-08T12:01:32.092-06:00Exhaustion<p>Even if you or a close loved one have never been diagnosed with cancer, chances are we've all faced the strain of dealing with a serious illness in one form or another. Even just the fear of a potential serious health issue is enough to send anyone into a tailspin. As Christians, we know God is in control and trust that whatever comes, it is not only part of His plan, but He will carry us through it. Practically speaking, though, even the most faithful and optimistic of us still feels the strain of facing a battle with serious illness.</p><p>It's only been ten years, but I don't remember feeling quite this... tired the last time I was told I had cancer. Not really physically, but mentally and
emotionally. Honestly, I'm struggling to not feel pointlessly guilty
because Mark's going to have to go through this with me. If you read my
thoughts during my breast cancer journey, I commented that I found it
infinitely easier to be the patient than the caregiver. If you've never
been either, let me assure you that being a caregiver for a cancer
patient is exhausting in every conceivable way. It's a strain physically
because you have to do twice as much as you're accustomed to doing. It's exhausting mentally and emotionally as well. </p><p>Cancer is a a monster, but so is the treatment for it. Chemo comes is too many forms to list. Every kind of cancer has it's own stable of chemotherapy drugs to fight it. None of the ones I'll be taking this time around are ones I took for the breast cancer. They come with entirely different potential side effects. Except for the nausea. That seems to be almost ubiquitous. Still, last time around, I had virtually zero issues with nausea. Never vomited once. Last time I had to have a port implanted in my upper chest because one of the drugs (adriamycin) was so caustic that it literally could destroy any tissue it came in contact with outside the main vein it was injected into. This time around, assuming my veins hold up, I won't even need a port at all. </p><p>The chemo protocol I'll be taking is called CAPOX. The CAP portion of the regimen is Capecitabine. It's given in pill form. Side effects include:</p><ul><li>stomach pain or upset stomach</li><li>constipation</li><li>loss of appetite</li><li>change in ability to taste food</li><li>increased thirst</li><li>unusual tiredness or weakness</li><li>dizziness</li><li>headache</li><li>hair loss</li><li>skin rash</li><li>back, join, or muscle pain</li><li>red, swollen, itchy, or teary eyes</li><li>trouble falling asleep or staying asleep</li></ul><p> The OX portion of the regimen is Oxaliplatin. It's an iv infusion. Here's the basic list of side effects:</p><ul><li>numbness, burning, or tingling in the fingers, toes, hands, feet, mouth, or throat</li><li>pain in the hands or feet</li><li>increased sensitivity, especially to cold</li><li>decreased sense of touch</li><li>nausea</li><li>vomiting</li><li>diarrhea</li><li>constipation</li><li>gas</li><li>stomach pain</li><li>heartburn</li><li>sores in the mouth</li><li>loss of appetite</li><li>change in the ability to taste food</li><li>weight gain or loss</li><li>hiccups</li><li>dry mouth</li><li>muscle, back, or joint pain</li><li>tiredness</li><li>anxiety</li><li>depression</li><li>difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep</li><li>hair loss</li><li>dry skin</li><li>redness or peeling of the skin on the hands and feet</li><li>sweating</li><li>flushing</li></ul><p>My treatment will involve a two-hour infusion of the Oxaliplatin at the infusion center and two weeks of taking Capecitabine by mouth twice a day. Then I will have a week "off" before returning to the Cancer Center to repeat the regimen. I'll do this four times, for a total of three months, if I don't have any serious issues with the protocol. If I react badly to the oral chemo, I'll have to switch to the iv version of the protocol, called FOLFOX, which would take a total of six months to complete. </p><p>The last time around, I prepared for all the worst case scenarios so that I wouldn't be caught off guard if they came to pass. I'll do the same this time while hoping and praying that things will not be as bad as the warnings say they can be. From discussions by countless other patients, I think it's a safe bet that the neuropathy (numbness, tingling, pain) in my hands and feet is pretty much a given. The severity is completely unpredictable, as it is different for everyone. The hand and foot syndrome (peeling of skin on hands and feet) is another issue that crops up. I've already started an intensive moisturizing campaign for both my hands and feet in the hopes of heading it off. Hair loss is actually fairly rare. Looks like I'll probably get to go through this without being bald, though that's honestly the one side effect I truly didn't care about. All things considered, being bald was the last thing on my mind. </p><p>As before, I'm weirdly most worried about the nausea. I absolutely loathe feeling queasy. I mean, of all the issues chemo and the array of treatments meant to counteract the side effects it causes can trigger, nausea is the one that I simply cannot abide. Last time around I had no issues. I felt mildly nauseated one time after treatment, took one tablet to counter it, and never had to take anything else for the duration of my treatment. God willing, this time around will go the same. </p><p><br /></p>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-37299651586300591882021-03-03T15:25:00.000-06:002021-03-03T15:25:25.188-06:00The Word No One Wants To Hear<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ehoJiTzy3mwszbuQm7CFSNiMhZn5o0NZW5GdmSdkaY8Uehep5hCE_n2F5Lbz3fqEtZRhZVrGRfIqHgaLz2p218w8Y_8Q7fxJsy_yEdxLdjxmohtNZLT0nf8CRvjy-vK9dRppZvJ3mZc/s800/Downriver-Gastro-American-Cancer-Society-Colon-Cancer-Screening-New-Recommendation-2018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ehoJiTzy3mwszbuQm7CFSNiMhZn5o0NZW5GdmSdkaY8Uehep5hCE_n2F5Lbz3fqEtZRhZVrGRfIqHgaLz2p218w8Y_8Q7fxJsy_yEdxLdjxmohtNZLT0nf8CRvjy-vK9dRppZvJ3mZc/w495-h330/Downriver-Gastro-American-Cancer-Society-Colon-Cancer-Screening-New-Recommendation-2018.jpg" width="495" /></a></div><br />Sigh.<p></p><p>I reached ten years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer last year. 2020 wasn't the sort of year to celebrate anything with any kind of fanfare. It was just a quiet, routine visit with my oncologist that involved her telling me that I didn't need to see her again, that my family doctor could monitor me from this point on. So I saw my family doctor for my routine annual wellness exam, which included routine blood work, and I got a call a couple of days later letting me know I was anemic. That required another relatively routine test as well as commencement of taking an iron supplement. I've done this test before. It's called a FIT Test and involves testing a stool sample for evidence of blood. Another couple of days and I got a second call telling me it was positive. </p><p>Interestingly, the medical powers that be have altered the recommended beginning age for routine colon screening from 50 to 45, so my family doctor had already set up an appointment with a gastroenterologist for me. I saw her nurse practitioner, who told me that even though it is now recommended that we all get screened at 45, insurance companies have not adjusted to the new recommendations and would not pay for a screening colonoscopy. That positive fecal occult (hidden/not visible) blood test meant I was getting one anyway, though. So, I had that done on Monday, January 25. The doctor told me then that she'd found multiple polyps in my colon and removed several and a few pieces of one that was too big for her to take out that she believed would be cancerous. A few days later, the call confirming her suspicions came.<br /></p><p>Cancer.</p><p>Again.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42hI2pfj_by61L9DD6PNY6klIaYioT5LWuM4Gjabd_BOd9PTVar3JT3G3aRVTEa_NJm4Cc19UITNhpyQc1uc_9hV2FvWve7dGogyhQIF0dcsZrj3FZJqGkHpqAtRYEAPdqE17npwOUbo/s620/ColonCancer-Cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="620" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42hI2pfj_by61L9DD6PNY6klIaYioT5LWuM4Gjabd_BOd9PTVar3JT3G3aRVTEa_NJm4Cc19UITNhpyQc1uc_9hV2FvWve7dGogyhQIF0dcsZrj3FZJqGkHpqAtRYEAPdqE17npwOUbo/w471-h303/ColonCancer-Cover.jpg" width="471" /></a></div><p>The first step regardless of biopsy results or anything else was to have the section of my colon with the malignant polyp removed, so I met with the surgeon, who scheduled a CT Scan to get a look at my chest and abdomen to confirm there were no distant metastases of the cancer. That came back clear, and last week I went into the hospital to have part of my sigmoid colon removed. He removed just over 5 inches of my colon along with several lymph nodes to have them biopsied for evidence of metastasis.<br /></p><p>I spent Wednesday, February 24, and Thursday in the hospital, then got to come home on Friday, the 26th. I'm recovering more rapidly than I expected to. My abdomen is still tender, especially when I try to bend over, but generally speaking, I'm getting around very well and having no real issues at all getting back to a "normal" diet, though I'm still avoiding anything tough to digest like raw vegetables and nuts and spicy foods, which sucks because I love me some spiciness. </p><p>So, yesterday, Tuesday, March 2, I learned that one of the thirteen lymph nodes biopsied came back positive. Just one out of thirteen, but that one makes all the difference in the world. Because of that one positive lymph node, my cancer staging leaps from 2 to 3. Because of that positive lymph node, I go from probably not needing any further treatment to facing 3-6 months of chemo. </p><p>I have stage IIIa colon cancer. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT222b3tUjnr5KT8DRnIquyO7wc7HsC4tLKX91tgiktaVqWmz9JL6K-pR2dLKs8VlAOPLn-DR-8y7vLf4OqYBCSi4MV13d-2lFWMeH17731fXjA-4uf96XsvZ-YXCuLmC8wYxDrYQW0As/s2048/img-1in5_20-54.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT222b3tUjnr5KT8DRnIquyO7wc7HsC4tLKX91tgiktaVqWmz9JL6K-pR2dLKs8VlAOPLn-DR-8y7vLf4OqYBCSi4MV13d-2lFWMeH17731fXjA-4uf96XsvZ-YXCuLmC8wYxDrYQW0As/w460-h345/img-1in5_20-54.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><p>I'm limited in how much research I can do until I see the oncologist because there are multiple options for chemo protocols. Most likely is FOLFOX or CapeOx. These two protocols have one drug in common called Oxaliplatin. It's a nasty little chemical. I don't mind admitting that I am not looking forward to having to deal with it. It comes with a few side effects, primarily neuropathy, meaning pain, tingling, and numbness in the hands and feet that can last up to a couple of years after completing the chemo. If it gets really bad, the damage can be permanent. There are other side effects, of course, ranging from unpleasant to horrifying. I can only pray that I handle this encounter with chemo as well as the last one. </p><p></p><p>I have my post op follow-up appointment with my surgeon next week. I should get the results of additional testing that is being done on the tumor then. Suffice it to say that if it comes back with unfavorable results, it will open an entirely new can of worms, so we're praying that what we already know will be the worst of it. I will need chemo, but rads are unlikely since we have no target for them. The point of the chemo is to kill off any stray cancer cells that may have moved beyond that one positive lymph node. I'll be seeing at least one oncologist sometime soon, though no appointments are made, yet.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEHrjc9pQJxH45TUxLowcN_jmAAKE0XsI9_ldCZMrW0MvONBiGEqIQ7pObrssPLTqomgtcHe8shhhSdK5L7DXRZ7Ea49GcQKE6qQRgFOiLW1YvagCJmC1aSi8DLSNNK4rGFhku3Zp-18/s660/colon-cancer-no-family-history.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="660" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEHrjc9pQJxH45TUxLowcN_jmAAKE0XsI9_ldCZMrW0MvONBiGEqIQ7pObrssPLTqomgtcHe8shhhSdK5L7DXRZ7Ea49GcQKE6qQRgFOiLW1YvagCJmC1aSi8DLSNNK4rGFhku3Zp-18/w461-h258/colon-cancer-no-family-history.jpg" width="461" /></a></div> <p></p><p>As always, I am constantly aware that it could be much, much worse. It's cancer. It's chemo. It's a new journey into the unknown where we begin with a long list of potential side effects, many of them horrifying and nightmare-inducing, but all of them only possibilities. As before, I'll prepare for the worst and pray for the best. It's really all I can do.</p><p>Please pray for me, of course, as well as the doctors and nurses who'll be part of this journey. But make special mention in your prayers for Mark, please. As I've said before, it's infinitely easier to be the patient than to be the caregiver. </p><p>Also, though the COVID-19 pandemic is generally considered to be plateauing if not on the way to it's conclusion, it's still not over. I will be starting chemo well before everyone gets a vaccination. I don't know if they'll give me a vaccination and have me wait a few weeks to start the chemo or if that's even an option. I know I will absolutely not be able to risk exposure once the chemo begins. Mark has a co-worker who was forced to take time off while his wife went through chemo because he could not risk being exposed at work and bringing it home to her. There are vaccines available now, though, so maybe we'll both be able to get one of them and then not have to worry about it. I just don't know, beyond the fact that COVID makes an already complicated process even more difficult to navigate. </p><p>March <i>is</i> Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month, so it's only fitting that I end with a note about colorectal cancer screening. No one wants to talk about having a colonoscopy. I'm still a couple of months away from my 50th birthday, which is apparently when at least most insurance companies will pay to have screening done. By next year, I assume insurance companies will have caught up to the new guidelines about screening at 45. Either way, I advise everyone to talk with you doctor about getting the screening as soon as you're eligible. It's nothing to be embarrassed about and honestly, it's no big deal. The worst issue I had, by far, was the liquid prep solution. I'm hyper sensitive to flavors, especially the artificial sweeteners that are used in almost everything these days. The prep would have been fine if they hadn't tried to "flavor" it. I almost didn't get it down. For my surgery I got to use a pill and Miralax prep that was infinitely easier. I'll need colonoscopies far more frequently from now on, possibly every year, but I'll never do the liquid prep again. </p><p>Other than having to choke down several ounces of an overly artificially flavored and sweetened drink, though, the colonoscopy was a breeze. I just wish it had come with a better result. So, get screened. Tell your spouse to get screened. Make sure your parents get screened. If they find nothing, you don't have to repeat it for ten years! Trust me when I say it's worth having a simple test you may find embarrassing to avoid the process I'm now going through. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Zsms5Z-uwPdJ2s-a22qAvMiEZyqLOCLvsNrvZ02RRA83rAnVvPq2fb6zSwU1qhQs-oafOHFtQx3Zzmvh8sJXedS7_JcQVDGeW5U8P5G_D4HACMviDKQWSvJHA2m-Ku5C7qomNohIPos/s634/colon+cancer+doesn%2527t+care.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="490" height="733" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Zsms5Z-uwPdJ2s-a22qAvMiEZyqLOCLvsNrvZ02RRA83rAnVvPq2fb6zSwU1qhQs-oafOHFtQx3Zzmvh8sJXedS7_JcQVDGeW5U8P5G_D4HACMviDKQWSvJHA2m-Ku5C7qomNohIPos/w566-h733/colon+cancer+doesn%2527t+care.png" width="566" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><br /> <br /><p></p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com01336 Whiteside Hill Rd, Wartrace, TN 37183, USA35.4464337 -86.364623134.999697496857124 -86.91393950625 35.893169903142876 -85.81530669375tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-60060313017190692062013-02-08T23:44:00.000-06:002013-02-08T23:44:03.797-06:00This is Animal Cruelty...Brace yourselves, I'm about to launch a colossal rant.<br />
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Anyone who's on Facebook knows how easy it is to miss a post by any friend or liked page, particularly with Facebook's "we know better than you" attitude that leads them to show us the posts they think are most important without any real say-so from us. I was constantly switching to the "Most Recent" feed until I was fortunate enough to find a script that allows me to tweak several of the settings on Facebook, including forcing them to stay on Most Recent instead of Top Stories. Anyway, I'm mentioning this because of all the posts made by the Switzerland County Animal Shelter since I "liked" their page, the first and only one I've actually seen was one that was made last Tuesday, February 5. It was post of very cute Golden Retriever puppy who was one of the dogs currently available for adoption. I clicked on the image, which took me to the SCAS page where I caught sight of another image of another dog. This is that image:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTJUHhVCsBi6GS-KRj45ny3EiaXD4woer4KeXbho7d1J_Js-GWLCUBtmsN9eR52vjBaAxA92olE7Hse_AArpjZFVX1vCg3RRaJp-affngGfPvPEaAtp2xLGf3i48HP2BWHmZPNHZgs0k/s1600/Marilyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTJUHhVCsBi6GS-KRj45ny3EiaXD4woer4KeXbho7d1J_Js-GWLCUBtmsN9eR52vjBaAxA92olE7Hse_AArpjZFVX1vCg3RRaJp-affngGfPvPEaAtp2xLGf3i48HP2BWHmZPNHZgs0k/s640/Marilyn.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are the words that accompanied it: <span class="userContent">This is Marilyn. She is an English bulldog
approximately 4-5 years old. Marilyn was found curled up freezing and
starving in the North Dr area. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This blog is named Winsomebulldog. My header is a picture of my two Bulldogs, Katie and Briscoe. Katie was my husband's dog, a dream come true for him. A friend's family had one that he spent time with as a young man, and from then on, he always dreamed of owning one. Clearly, we are Bulldog fans.<br />
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First off, let me just confess that both Katie and Briscoe came from pet stores. We weren't as aware then as we are now of the horrors of puppy mills. For us, the consequences of purchasing our two darling Bullies at a pet store instead of from a reputable breeder were a significant array of various health issues that could undoubtedly have been avoided if their breeders had been more interested in producing healthy puppies than in the obscene amount of money they could make while forcing dogs to produce litter after litter after litter of unhealthy puppies. Having said all that, I wouldn't trade either of my precious babies for any amount of money. Losing Katie was and still is one of the most painful things I have endured.<br />
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So, what does any of this have to do with Marilyn? Well, Marilyn was almost certainly used in a puppy mill. Let me tell you why I believe that.<br />
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She is skin and bones. She has a list of health issues that is almost impossible to believe. One of those issues is swollen, raw feet with pads that have spit open. This happens when a dog is forced to stand in their own urine and feces. You can't see it clearly in the above picture, but instead of being white, as she should be, she's more a dingy yellowish brown. She smells terrible. Just so you get a full picture of her condition, let me show you a few more images.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPRudSdr43c0v1sscfC4Oae4pqKyfR9yJ10tg9e8IiW-run6pFbdNI4HoMyuRtT-NejOlyDZJHyvMOrvRHb5EDi8rOK_YIvFB-TmHDKAwWdY76rvlUOjHJrdoIp-W7yMnNrl3MMzF5x0/s1600/019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPRudSdr43c0v1sscfC4Oae4pqKyfR9yJ10tg9e8IiW-run6pFbdNI4HoMyuRtT-NejOlyDZJHyvMOrvRHb5EDi8rOK_YIvFB-TmHDKAwWdY76rvlUOjHJrdoIp-W7yMnNrl3MMzF5x0/s640/019.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIvhL1FQI2k_b56fns9jEUXqfSaWHk_FDCBbM3e2QmC2Kji39_ycIRRK7G45FGJdsVfLWyVXecT9XmkfpNjnkdBCAhrf-Z7Jgic0roc_mYSwXuiDvqvEtcdQ2tKuNEWAD3pKJhxHlcHU/s1600/023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIvhL1FQI2k_b56fns9jEUXqfSaWHk_FDCBbM3e2QmC2Kji39_ycIRRK7G45FGJdsVfLWyVXecT9XmkfpNjnkdBCAhrf-Z7Jgic0roc_mYSwXuiDvqvEtcdQ2tKuNEWAD3pKJhxHlcHU/s640/023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLSha-bfrtnsqo815ugKGmEWYBizCkpZgBLpFeVTJJmsG3bkDggsJ28e9agJ3oBmKzTacQSXRk8glgCJlwV5vjR1q2P7CPHygD2pLW6onav1Coac9u7w5varHaC1O7X6n1zyf4kMekmYw/s1600/027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLSha-bfrtnsqo815ugKGmEWYBizCkpZgBLpFeVTJJmsG3bkDggsJ28e9agJ3oBmKzTacQSXRk8glgCJlwV5vjR1q2P7CPHygD2pLW6onav1Coac9u7w5varHaC1O7X6n1zyf4kMekmYw/s640/027.jpg" width="422" /></a></div>
Have you thrown up, yet? I've come close a few times since I first saw her.<br />
<br />
The obvious issues:<br />
<ul>
<li>She's been starved. </li>
<li>Her nails hadn't been trimmed in, well, probably ever.</li>
<li>There are mammary tumors all along her stomach because she was never spayed.</li>
<li>Her eyes are milky and constantly gooey because of entropion. (Entropion is a situation where the eyelids basically roll inward, causing the lashes to constantly rub the surface of the eye. Very uncomfortable.)</li>
<li>Due to the untreated entropion, both eyes are severely scarred, making her almost blind. The damage from the constant irritation was so bad that her left eye developed an ulcer that eventually ruptured. Translation, she has a hole in her eye.</li>
<li>Her feet are raw. </li>
</ul>
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Now for the not so obvious, but not unexpected, issues:<br />
<ul>
<li>She is heartworm positive. </li>
<li>All her rear teeth are so decayed that they're essentially mush and will have to be removed before they cause her jawbones to rot as well. </li>
</ul>
<br />
More possible issues that haven't been confirmed, yet, but that I wouldn't be surprised by:<br />
<ul>
<li>Heavy internal parasites.</li>
<li>Hip and/or knee damage from being caged constantly.</li>
</ul>
She can barely walk. This could be due to her painful feet, arthritis, or the fact that she's barely more than skin and bones. Probably a combination of all of them.<br />
<br />
When she was found, she was curled up on the cold ground beneath a rabbit hutch, waiting to die. The lady who picked her up said she just looked like she'd given up. She was so cold that she spent the rest of that day shivering, just trying to get warm. <br />
<br />
When I saw that picture of her, taken as soon as she was brought into the shelter, I knew I had to do something. I sent the shelter several messages, asking for more information. As soon as my husband got home, I showed him the picture. He was as horrified as I was.<br />
<br />
The next morning, I began communicating with the shelter about her. They'd guessed her age to be 4-5 years. By the end of that day, I was positive that I wanted to bring her home with me.<br />
<br />
The next day, Feb. 7, she was due to see a vet. I had errands to run in the morning, but went over to the shelter as soon as I got home to meet her. I'd seen the picture, so I knew she was terribly skinny. The shelter had informed me that the picture didn't show how truly bad it was. What really got me when I first saw her, though, was the way she was curled up in a tiny ball on her blanket. She was in the isolation room along with several other smaller dogs. As dogs do, they all began barking like mad as soon as the door was opened. Marilyn's head lifted, then dropped once more in dejection. She began to tremble. All I could think was how much I wanted to take her to a quiet place, wrap her in warm blankets, and cradle her in my lap.<br />
<br />
She had her vet appointment later in the afternoon and the shelter assured me that they would call once they knew something. I got that phone call at 5. That's when they told me about the heartworms, her eyes, the mammary tumors, her teeth, and that she was closer to 8 years old. The vet suggested putting her down, but they didn't because I'd already told them that we would still take her if she turned out to be heartworm positive. I'd prepared for that. I hadn't braced myself for all the rest of it.<br />
<br />
When I got off the phone with the shelter, I sent my hubby a text message explaining all the additional issues she was facing. Her teeth will have to be removed. This is surgery. The entropion can be fixed through another surgery. The mammary glands can be removed when she is spayed. ANOTHER surgery. And don't forget those heartworms. Want to know how they kill those suckers? Arsenic. That's right. They poison the nasty little things. Follow that up with having countless dead worms flushed through damaged arteries and you're talking about a huge physical impact on the body. Look at those pictures again. Think she can survive that? The vet had concerns that she'd be able to survive <i>any </i>of the treatments she needs. <br />
<br />
I hung up the phone and started crying. I just couldn't help it. I kept seeing her curled up on that blanket. I kept thinking about the hell she's been forced to endure. It is obvious that she's been bred repeatedly. Whatever bastards - yes, I know it's an ugly word - had her, used her, abused her, and then threw her away when she got too sick to be of further use. This is what I kept thinking about. Would it be kinder to just put her down? Would it be cruel to try to "fix" all her problems?<br />
<br />
Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. But when I got up Friday morning I'd made a decision. I had to give her a chance. She's known nothing but misery. She deserves so much more. I eventually came to the decision that even if she doesn't survive one of the cures for her many ailments, I could at least give her the best life possible for however long she lives. I can keep her full and warm and give her all the love she has never known but so obviously needs. And she just might survive it all. Katie was 11 before the cancer took her from us. This precious little girl could have several more years of life left to live. Happy, healthy years. I simply could not deny her that chance.<br />
<br />
So, I went to the shelter and picked her up. I brought her home and gave her a chance to sniff a bit in the yard and potty. Then I brought her in the house and put her down on the large orthopedic dog bed that we keep in our living room for Malcolm to lay on. The boys gave her a few cursory sniffs. She wasn't sure what to think of them, but I laid down beside her and gently stroked her head and ears until she started dozing off. I tucked her blanket in around her so she could nap.<br />
<br />
Since then, she's had some food and water, and been outside several times. She got a little bit sick, probably from drinking too much. She was a thirsty girl. She's napping on Malcolm's bed, occasionally waking up to look around, as if she's making sure she's still in a warm, safe place.<br />
<br />
She has a very long road ahead of her. She needs a bath terribly, but I don't want to put her through the stress. I want to give her a few days to settle in, to feel at home and completely safe before I start doing things that I know will make her uneasy.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what her personality is truly like. She's so weak that she doesn't do much more than eat, drink, and sleep. She is just so painfully thin. Watching her try to walk is agonizing. I want to do something, to make her better, to make her happy. Every time I look at her, I am sickened again by how much she has suffered.<br />
<br />
Somewhere out there is a person or persons who used a beautiful, gentle, sweet, loving dog to make money with absolutely no regard for her welfare. They could make money off her because people buy dogs off the Internet and out of classified ads in the newspaper, sight unseen. They don't visit the breeder or insist upon meeting the parents of the puppy they're buying.<br />
<br />
There is very serious problem in this country. We continue to view dogs, cats, horses, livestock, any domestic animals, as property, no different than a car or a sofa. We blame dogs for being dogs, condemning entire breeds or even breed types for the actions of a few while simultaneously deifying those who contribute to the problem. Michael Vick not only participated in dog fighting, he tortured his dogs to death, yet he didn't actually go to jail for that. He was allowed to plea to "Conspiracy to Travel in Interstate Commerce in Aid of Unlawful Activities and to Sponsor a Dog in an Animal Fighting Venture." Racketeering. In the state of Virginia, he submitted a guilty plea to a single Virginia felony charge for dog
fighting, receiving a 3 year prison sentence suspended on condition of
good behavior, and a <u><i>$2,500</i></u> fine. He spent less than 2 years in prison, got out and picked his NFL career right back up where he left off. He was named the 2010 NFL Comeback Player of the Year and was selected to his fourth Pro Bowl.<br />
<br />
This from a man who admitted to providing most of the financing for the operation and to participating directly in several dog fights in Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina and South Carolina.
He admitted to sharing in the proceeds from these dog fights. He
further admitted that he knew his colleagues killed several dogs who did
not perform well. He admitted to being involved in the destruction of
6–8 dogs, by <u><i>hanging</i></u> or <u><i>drowning</i></u>.<br />
<br />
How many thousands of people have cheered for Michael Vick during his "comeback?" How many people out there look at him and think he served his time and should be granted a fresh start despite the fact that he was never convicted of animal cruelty? He never spent one day in jail for it. Even if he had been convicted of animal abuse, he would have gotten little to no jail time for it and a monetary fine of a few thousand dollars.<br />
<br />
Abusing an animal is a misdemeanor. No matter how terrible the abuse, how horrific the suffering of an animal, current criminal laws make it nearly impossible to convict anyone of animal cruelty short of having film of them committing it, and convictions carry penalties that tend to amount to a slap on the wrist.<br />
<br />
Marilyn is not an inanimate object. She is a living, breathing, feeling creature. She has emotions. She feels pain and fear, suffers grief and loneliness. She has her own personality. She's an individual just like I am or you are. She is beautiful and sweet, wholly undeserving of the hell she's been put through.<br />
<br />
So I'm left to ask, how many of you out there have a dog tied up out in your yard? How many have a wire kennel that you visit once a day just to drop off some food and water while the dog you've caged inside spends every single moment all alone? How many of you don't bother to get your pet spayed or neutered, or give the heartworm and flea prevention? They're just dogs, right? All dogs have fleas. So what?<br />
<br />
Just because I can't bear to end this on a completely depressing note, I'm going to add one final picture.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm4rWu85r8lT76BCzZJi5-AUQxaMZ0TZbAbpVIJ08EwF9K8FDM-RElOKg743QO_3QNlctbrYVp_sBMEWfMZAQpUvGgciIH3bXdH3wOw0z-WSMaozcIs7L-e5EAtno7hqwKNCWL8CeBGY/s1600/016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm4rWu85r8lT76BCzZJi5-AUQxaMZ0TZbAbpVIJ08EwF9K8FDM-RElOKg743QO_3QNlctbrYVp_sBMEWfMZAQpUvGgciIH3bXdH3wOw0z-WSMaozcIs7L-e5EAtno7hqwKNCWL8CeBGY/s640/016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Marilyn and her blankets, curled up on her comfy bed. No more shivering. No more fear. Whatever the future holds for her, at least she finally won't have to face it all alone.<br />
<br />
I've used the name given to her by the shelter workers during this post, but that isn't the name we're going to call her by. I wanted something less formal sounding, so we've called her Maggie. Maggie May. Of course she doesn't recognize her name, yet. But she's already beginning to respond to the sound of my voice. Perhaps more telling, there have been at least two times that I've seen her wake up and turn her head toward me, her scarred eyes struggling to focus. I speak a few words to her, telling her what a good, sweet girl she is, and she lowers her head back down and returns to her sleep. Don't anyone dare try to tell me that dogs don't crave the companionship of their people.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-61933528354756155172012-05-21T20:47:00.000-05:002012-05-21T20:51:44.488-05:00Loss<span style="font-size: x-large;">Katie's gone...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8z6FnKeTl8-KEql-cmqyFjuaRMmpfy-cMCaorC3tDcptyQd0Xs3vqdxOPJ-WnGaAo-X1u5tNeu9x15p5dTbIkLNt1biceL2KyU7wgBg1gDuSyjVuMWSC0vk13dJBSgMEFw4fCMO4youI/s1600/IMG_0074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8z6FnKeTl8-KEql-cmqyFjuaRMmpfy-cMCaorC3tDcptyQd0Xs3vqdxOPJ-WnGaAo-X1u5tNeu9x15p5dTbIkLNt1biceL2KyU7wgBg1gDuSyjVuMWSC0vk13dJBSgMEFw4fCMO4youI/s640/IMG_0074.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOe3AmyaeRKPRieqSzUH8keCV3riaot6ZTBt4DZh9QbfwU4mkM7i4s_tZBCLQmbgtf2n8wxYBiKHQhk2oBeUGcmWQPDn3YAw6AIc7HsXiuSfRE84nt66phDVKssV0bkuO6FhWG0cbkoVI/s1600/IMG_0075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOe3AmyaeRKPRieqSzUH8keCV3riaot6ZTBt4DZh9QbfwU4mkM7i4s_tZBCLQmbgtf2n8wxYBiKHQhk2oBeUGcmWQPDn3YAw6AIc7HsXiuSfRE84nt66phDVKssV0bkuO6FhWG0cbkoVI/s640/IMG_0075.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgss3777kWWY_PR-7e1ws4343ag1csWF1U9ERqdmI9-3jzfRIgVe42BMNDh21OJtBMJJiDq9MNWgatNPMf4LJFLko_cyK4kYTh2n8l2YmaC-T6cyD9aTCmLHS3udTyv_qIMLIXKoTiboe4/s1600/IMG_0076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgss3777kWWY_PR-7e1ws4343ag1csWF1U9ERqdmI9-3jzfRIgVe42BMNDh21OJtBMJJiDq9MNWgatNPMf4LJFLko_cyK4kYTh2n8l2YmaC-T6cyD9aTCmLHS3udTyv_qIMLIXKoTiboe4/s640/IMG_0076.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glimpse of how she got her name, Katie-Bar-the-Door. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnH7bsxazjENpRnN6Oboylw-F4OeKjkOQ1rSBPDqEiM5fbK7dPbUerOyyKRT0xG5awKsH8h6z97EdZ9sP-tbhmW_Ck0Mq39SOF-43dfQpLIFDcKpo7XBMKBXwR_y6fLWGbUJtSgv8zio/s1600/337+Large+e-mail+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnH7bsxazjENpRnN6Oboylw-F4OeKjkOQ1rSBPDqEiM5fbK7dPbUerOyyKRT0xG5awKsH8h6z97EdZ9sP-tbhmW_Ck0Mq39SOF-43dfQpLIFDcKpo7XBMKBXwR_y6fLWGbUJtSgv8zio/s640/337+Large+e-mail+view.jpg" width="638" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the expression I loved most on her face. Joy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPDVaDl0SHegWwMLCFm8r_KLT1UBit2N_xxvXQj6ZWr9Fkygsthvh-oGaM6-FgfBEE97P63ILvOUj58WKxOynm0_5npAJVvh-qY8yY4taSbRrYXO6eVkv-20sjH3zaUKMMD7GraONpYE/s1600/394+Large+Web+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPDVaDl0SHegWwMLCFm8r_KLT1UBit2N_xxvXQj6ZWr9Fkygsthvh-oGaM6-FgfBEE97P63ILvOUj58WKxOynm0_5npAJVvh-qY8yY4taSbRrYXO6eVkv-20sjH3zaUKMMD7GraONpYE/s640/394+Large+Web+view.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZut5jyawSY-LHcbqWXasN9o3kooa2FkeNFRXedF7e5hLCiVoPhHCPIzdf1Pp2fKksU09rzWNPR24vKP95C0hktvuKqI5SNt0gVZH37dUKJe4r2il4kiUBoxWsENRsTqfSOinwUh5mAe0/s1600/013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZut5jyawSY-LHcbqWXasN9o3kooa2FkeNFRXedF7e5hLCiVoPhHCPIzdf1Pp2fKksU09rzWNPR24vKP95C0hktvuKqI5SNt0gVZH37dUKJe4r2il4kiUBoxWsENRsTqfSOinwUh5mAe0/s640/013.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67UoEyZxYg5DCjLpGBgivXBdJ6AvFp1Eu5HD7bAp6dMvk6oBIgUBuTco-cr3DCA03QkjfEq6SgwKbiyr7FSrBuxA7zgMbtP8j3Z9uMyl2WZGCp-EYAakf-42WOOFdT3eWRDFdTnI-G-Y/s1600/Photo244+Large+Web+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67UoEyZxYg5DCjLpGBgivXBdJ6AvFp1Eu5HD7bAp6dMvk6oBIgUBuTco-cr3DCA03QkjfEq6SgwKbiyr7FSrBuxA7zgMbtP8j3Z9uMyl2WZGCp-EYAakf-42WOOFdT3eWRDFdTnI-G-Y/s640/Photo244+Large+Web+view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The image that inspired the winsomebulldog name. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span>And finally...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIwETnepTefOrMpNDUdexzGwSUJe28U5Ts29XTnXWqnasyeD2z0-CNBnNoEGIALsY5OoLaUYdq3_TfMjqf6rPnkiq1xpdz_grbS3HNMw5QmSZ7CFy-DnQ2tOiOULQ14bj_7vrKBLrXKI/s1600/Katie+on+gurney+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIwETnepTefOrMpNDUdexzGwSUJe28U5Ts29XTnXWqnasyeD2z0-CNBnNoEGIALsY5OoLaUYdq3_TfMjqf6rPnkiq1xpdz_grbS3HNMw5QmSZ7CFy-DnQ2tOiOULQ14bj_7vrKBLrXKI/s400/Katie+on+gurney+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yesterday, at the emergency clinic.</td></tr>
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If you know me, then you know that our girl, Katie, has been sick for a while. Yesterday, she was so weak that she could barely stand. I took her to the ER and they ran some tests, but couldn't find anything wrong. (It should be noted that we all thought her problems were connected to either her chemo or the heart issues that were brought on by the chemo.) So, I brought her back home yesterday evening but she got worse during the night. I took her back up to the clinic this morning and they took some x-rays and spotted what they thought was pneumonia in her lungs. So they kept her to give her fluids and antibiotics.<br />
<br />
I got a call this afternoon a little before 5 letting me know that she had stopped breathing. They did their best, but as I was on my up there a little while later, they called to let me know she had died. I'll spare you the gory details and just say that additional blood work revealed that her kidneys were failing badly. It is likely that the cancer spread despite the chemo and caused significant damage, bringing on the kidney failure and other symptoms that were mistakenly attributed to her heart. No one is at fault. She was just a sick baby.<br />
<br />
Right now, I'm fairly numb. I cried all the way up there. Spent almost an hour with her and cried some more. Then cried a good portion of the way home. So now I'm just in a holding pattern until the next wave of grief hits.<br />
<br />
Losing her sucks, plain and simple. But it's made worse in so many ways because Mark is not home. He has made what should be his final trip to retrieve machinery from New Jersey and is due home this evening. His plane should already be in the air. So he had to deal with all this while being unable to be here for either me or her. Please pray for him, as Katie was particularly special to him for a variety of reasons.<br />
<br />
I'll say without shame that we both loved Katie as though she were our child. I know some people take offense at that, but I'm sorry. Katie was a part of our lives every single day for eleven years. She will forever hold a home in both our hearts and nothing and no one will ever replace her in any way.<br />
<br />
I wish I could somehow convey how incredible she was. So much unconditional love packed into one short, pudgy dog doesn't seem possible. And there's simply no way for me to express how much pure joy she brought to my life. I still can't quite make myself imagine living without her.<br />
<br />
I needed to get this out there, to share it for her, to honor her. I'm so tired and I have one of those "after crying" headaches. I'm thinking that I might need to lay down for a little while. Maybe, in a few more days, I'll be able to be more philosophical about it all. Right now, I just want my baby girl back.<br />
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<br />winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-85585517965565210562012-04-25T06:35:00.000-05:002012-04-25T06:35:13.250-05:00Golden Honey Pan Rolls - Lazy Version<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVl7rikjAJHXuv0BqXxdClyndlP71jdOHcMq4rGe6tDHVUGLuVbCwiMO4F0MCbvwdtETLeCZDdh45ip1t-ZwCikfqNQ04nGTVmebxSbiiplKb8mX8H4sRCpWvFb7_YtOlSn4U_KLw3j4/s1600/005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVl7rikjAJHXuv0BqXxdClyndlP71jdOHcMq4rGe6tDHVUGLuVbCwiMO4F0MCbvwdtETLeCZDdh45ip1t-ZwCikfqNQ04nGTVmebxSbiiplKb8mX8H4sRCpWvFb7_YtOlSn4U_KLw3j4/s640/005.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
After yesterday's Buttered Rosemary Rolls, I decided to try the shortcut version of the <a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/honey-pan-rolls-257033">Golden Honey Pan Rolls</a> that I already know are fantastic. The link will take you to the full recipe that has instructions on how to make them from scratch, using a bread machine. I'm going with the short version here, using store-bought dough, which means the rolls themselves won't have any honey in them. I'll just use the glaze from the original recipe and see how they turn out. I'm fairly certain that they'll be very nearly as good as the from scratch version.<br />
<br />
Here's the recipe for the glaze:<br />
<ul><li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients"> <span class="ingredient"><span class="amount"><span class="value">1/3</span> <span class="type">cup</span></span> <span class="name"> sugar </span> </span> </li>
<li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients"> <span class="ingredient"><span class="amount"><span class="value">2 </span> <span class="type">tablespoons</span></span> <span class="name"> melted butter </span> </span> </li>
<li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients"> <span class="ingredient"><span class="amount"><span class="value">1 </span> <span class="type">tablespoon</span></span> <span class="name"> honey </span> </span> </li>
<li class="ingredient" itemprop="ingredients"> <span class="ingredient"><span class="amount"><span class="value">1 </span> <span class="type"></span></span> <span class="name"> egg white </span></span></li>
</ul><span class="ingredient"><span class="name">This is the recipe for a full 13" X 9" pan of rolls, but I'm not going to bother trying to halve it. Half an egg white? I don't think so. And just in case you've never, ever done anything like this before, I'll include a few pictures of the process. Brace yourself.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><i>Step 1: </i>Go to the store and pick up a bag of Rhodes frozen dinner rolls. Bring them home and toss them in the freezer. When you're ready to fix your rolls, take the bag out of the freezer and cut it open.</span></span><br />
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<span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><i><b><u>NOTE</u></b>: You'll notice in the upper right-hand corner of the bag that it has an arrow with the words "EASY OPEN Tear Here." This is a blatant lie. I tugged and pulled and twisted and not only was it not easy to open, it in fact did not open at all. No tearing, though the plastic did stretch quite well. I eventually had to resort to using a pair of scissors. (This may well be the hardest part of this recipe.)</i></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCeN1lo7DixUpYIH-177DVnWL-keM0euTZ5c80mWfYjJSzARMe1-nLCXpU7gtR1dZBvz35sDhRefu-CUqYsWoZGlr9cyyIdAFwB8RD7HdQ_CWbkmtp_bndXsywaGcz_6QLnAwbnSoCUk/s1600/045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCeN1lo7DixUpYIH-177DVnWL-keM0euTZ5c80mWfYjJSzARMe1-nLCXpU7gtR1dZBvz35sDhRefu-CUqYsWoZGlr9cyyIdAFwB8RD7HdQ_CWbkmtp_bndXsywaGcz_6QLnAwbnSoCUk/s400/045.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><i>Step 2:</i> Pick a pan. Any pan, assuming it's not so large that 36 rolls couldn't hope to fill it up when fully risen. Unless you're cooking for an army or possibly a potluck dinner, an 8" or 9" cake pan should be plenty big enough. If you want to get really rustic, break out a cast iron skillet. I'll admit the skillet makes a lovely presentation, but since I'm more interested in eating them than looking at them, and since I have not yet crossed into the world of professional food blogger, I just grab whatever is handy. For this post, I went all out and broke out a "fancy" piece of Corning Ware, so the pictures would look pretty. Yep, I'm trying that hard to impress you guys. </span></span><br />
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<span class="ingredient"><span class="name">Spray the pan with cooking spray and place the rolls inside.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4DFpGBtjrvMHGUk7u-PWJ5DCoJNAEXCFyBUI1cSvvBY4BzUqS8J4mkd8ZIWR55LY9Oc5lF7ouK84gzQ5GUChWtv105dCBOk5GESYuLu_VGDKbVQk4SIKuJ1r9HQt510Y2STBjokUxno/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4DFpGBtjrvMHGUk7u-PWJ5DCoJNAEXCFyBUI1cSvvBY4BzUqS8J4mkd8ZIWR55LY9Oc5lF7ouK84gzQ5GUChWtv105dCBOk5GESYuLu_VGDKbVQk4SIKuJ1r9HQt510Y2STBjokUxno/s400/024.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name">(See - pretty pan.) You have a couple of options at this point. One, you can lay a kitchen towel over the pan or you can spray a sheet of plastic wrap with more oil and lay it over the pan. (Do I need to point out that the towel should be clean?) Pick whichever way suits you, then just set the pan aside and WALK AWAY.</span></span><br />
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<span class="ingredient"><span class="name">That's right. You are DONE for literally HOURS! Just go do something else. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OKd8kOe0xYGGJ0SfrcuSYvZDhqv6k39LILYh3ha4JFNcSmxXp8U_618Kl15_zNUYKCcAdKuzVHY6hvFo5AUdskYD2ROYHw2nuPgcD0oB6kw4vUqaaaFNatuoB0WRa1_jNmKsvR76Law/s1600/042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OKd8kOe0xYGGJ0SfrcuSYvZDhqv6k39LILYh3ha4JFNcSmxXp8U_618Kl15_zNUYKCcAdKuzVHY6hvFo5AUdskYD2ROYHw2nuPgcD0oB6kw4vUqaaaFNatuoB0WRa1_jNmKsvR76Law/s400/042.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><i> </i>This shot was taken after 6 hours. (My kitchen was fairly cool, especially in the morning when I started. Your rolls may thaw and rise faster or slower, depending on ambient temperature, altitude, humidity, etc. Basically, just leave them alone until they're big enough that you're happy with them.) Mine in the above pic are risen enough to be baked, though I'm letting them go longer just because I'm hoping to wait long enough for my hubby to come home so that he can have them fresh out of the oven. They will keep getting bigger. The bigger they get, the more careful you'll have to be when brushing on the glaze because they'll be so fluffy that too much pressure will make them collapse. (If that happens, they won't look very pretty, but they will still taste just fine.)</span></span><br />
<span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><br />
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<span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><i>Step 3: </i>Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix up your glaze.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DxUITC7eiX0cDWFpPga6C2ywv1Jh0YvxFnMEb2QPEI1BdPousR5zRD_o_um0_TY516Gq3i7IZvR2T-bAfX8iCnix-KAskUw8Kf2NKNYB9i0JQyl4ROrYxGWVlgEDW0Dzl217QcjwYXs/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DxUITC7eiX0cDWFpPga6C2ywv1Jh0YvxFnMEb2QPEI1BdPousR5zRD_o_um0_TY516Gq3i7IZvR2T-bAfX8iCnix-KAskUw8Kf2NKNYB9i0JQyl4ROrYxGWVlgEDW0Dzl217QcjwYXs/s400/001.jpg" width="400" /> </a> </div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name">It will be slimy and VERY thick. But once baked, it is oh, so good. Brush, or if your pan is big enough and your rolls haven't risen to the point of billowing over the sides, drizzle this concoction over the rolls.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5XqqYpDXgoPYkCSoBEvRE1GuxK3EQIA1r0gUtR2YASUgVPrxmv100r_3gcjiB5iVNCjId-MthWm9NL-Zm_IQMogisxFr_y_U8GKUVJ1BQv2ppJHCNoHdLTrlRvLXhHjffLnZoThItHc/s1600/004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5XqqYpDXgoPYkCSoBEvRE1GuxK3EQIA1r0gUtR2YASUgVPrxmv100r_3gcjiB5iVNCjId-MthWm9NL-Zm_IQMogisxFr_y_U8GKUVJ1BQv2ppJHCNoHdLTrlRvLXhHjffLnZoThItHc/s400/004.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name">By this point (after about 9 hours) mine had risen so much that I couldn't get as much of the glaze on them as I would have liked. My rolls completely filled up the pan, so none of the glaze could ooze down to the bottom, which meant that most of the sweet goodness was confined to just the top of the rolls. If I'd glazed them when they were smaller (say, in that earlier picture after about 6 hours of rising) the glaze would have more fully permeated the bread and they'd have been sweeter than they turned out to be. Still good, mind you. Hubby polished them off with no hesitation, and like I said yesterday, he's not really a bread eater.</span></span><br />
<span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><br />
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<span class="ingredient"><span class="name"><i>Step 4:</i> As soon as the oven is ready, place the pan into it and bake for 15-20 minutes or until they're golden. Mine were ready after just 15. If you know your oven cooks really fast, you might want to back the temperature down to 325 degrees, just to make sure you don't over-brown them.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxydlNeTmT5Utdysu8za16sWAHyxsjfAAsA9ZNMZuz5JbmnNrg4XUvicAA5wHfJSnrGCzKK2wHk_Jge2r5AKNcT3O_dfWyd8e1v7emrwJoF3LA5SuMVqeaK6pDXyOSI_dwhG6oyKqA34/s1600/006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxydlNeTmT5Utdysu8za16sWAHyxsjfAAsA9ZNMZuz5JbmnNrg4XUvicAA5wHfJSnrGCzKK2wHk_Jge2r5AKNcT3O_dfWyd8e1v7emrwJoF3LA5SuMVqeaK6pDXyOSI_dwhG6oyKqA34/s400/006.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name">Take 'em out and let 'em cool just long enough so that you can handle them without needing a trip to the emergency room. Begin scarfing them down.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdO8VqwOx7jrtycDKSp6IbcY6UZ32PsGnH8DbXYZTdJKjwtAJFpy4oFjW0aMeqFhZeQjZJLi6Cc2u8bOF45p7bUGAJjRkNaXDZhiCmXna0_PR_XIriZ8YX05slRPJee028zKFr5p0fuk/s1600/007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdO8VqwOx7jrtycDKSp6IbcY6UZ32PsGnH8DbXYZTdJKjwtAJFpy4oFjW0aMeqFhZeQjZJLi6Cc2u8bOF45p7bUGAJjRkNaXDZhiCmXna0_PR_XIriZ8YX05slRPJee028zKFr5p0fuk/s400/007.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ingredient"><span class="name"> </span></span><br />
<span class="ingredient"><span class="name">This is insanely easy. And the sweetness, especially when done like this, isn't so overwhelming that it gives you a toothache. In the original recipe, the dough itself is sweetened with honey, so it's by default sweeter even without the glaze. Still, this is a really nice way to get almost the exact same flavor without all the extra work. And it's really especially nice since rising bread isn't something that requires constant attention, freeing you up to do whatever else you need or want to do. Hope everyone enjoys them!</span></span><br />
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<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Okay,
made these yesterday. Didn't use the iron skillet because... well
because I just didn't want to dig it out and I already had a square cake
pan handy. The pan held nine comfortably and I just let them rise
pretty much all day, which kinda became an issue eventually because they
got so huge and fluffy that a couple of them finally collapsed. That
was when I decided to go ahead and bake those p<span class="text_exposed_show">uppies.
(I'd been waiting for Mark to get home, but wouldn't you know, it was
one of those 15 hour days, so I finally had to give in and get them into
the oven.) Anyway, been wanting to make them since I first saw the
recipe and finally picked up some rosemary. Let me just say that they
are absolutely AWESOME! And by awesome, I mean irresistible and so
blasted good that you'll be tempted to forgo whatever you actually
intended to eat as a main course. Mark ate four of them, and he is NOT a
big bread guy. He kept telling me last night that it was all really
good. He's not stingy with compliments in general, but by the time he'd
said it three or four times, I figured he liked his supper. Just FYI, I
made a big pot of beef stew that I've been wanting but that I have no
recipe for. I just started tossing stuff into the pot and added whatever
struck my fancy at the moment. Then let it simmer all day long and it
turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself. Anyway, I scarfed down 2
of the rolls right after they came out of the oven, then ate 3 more with
supper. Or maybe Mark wound up eating five and I ate 2 more. I don't
really know. All I know for sure is that the pan was empty before we
went to bed, half the beef stew was gone, and I was feeling a bit like a
balloon that was ready to pop. I was a bit leery of using too much
rosemary because it's one of those spices that has a fine line between
just right and overwhelming. But I think the next time I make them, I'll
ad a bit more than I did this time. I didn't have the fancy sea salt
that the recipe calls for, but did have some regular old sea salt and
that's what I used. Seriously, they were just insanely delicious. I'm
making another pan of rolls today, though I'm going with an old favorite
- Honey Pan Rolls, with the shortcut of using the frozen dough. I'm
going to take some pictures of these, and maybe post them assuming they
all turn out okay. </span></span></span></h6>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-27341815664007886142012-01-18T22:21:00.000-06:002012-01-18T22:21:05.498-06:00Sometimes Reality Bites...There's been a lot of talk lately about how I'm coming to the end of my journey with cancer. (Assuming it never returns, and I'm going to make that assumption for my own peace of mind.) Everyone seems to bring it up. My doctors, my therapist, even Mark and myself. A very tangible evidence of the end will arrive at the end of this week when I go in to have my port removed. It's not any kind of major surgery. They won't even put me under full sedation. My surgeon says it'll be over in a blink and the last remaining "cancer" tie will be gone from my body. Not counting the scars.<br />
<br />
I told my therapist a few weeks back when she asked me how I was feeling about it coming to an end that when I look back on it, it almost feels like it wasn't real. It all came and went so very fast. It feels like some strange interlude outside of time, as if everything came to a halt while I dealt with this thing that had grown inside me. And now it's gone and in a couple of days, the contraption they stuck inside me to help them fight it will be gone, too. Which is why I suppose I have found the past ten days to be so blasted frustrating. <br />
<br />
It's no secret that we have dogs. It's also no secret that our dogs are very much a part of our family. They are, for all intents and purposes, our children. And if you have a problem with people who love their pets like kids and generally treat them as such, you might as well stop reading right now.<br />
<br />
Katie is our baby girl. That's her on the left in both pics at the top of my blog. Mark spotted her in a mall pet store a few months after we came home from a trip to England in the spring of 2001. Mark had been wanting a Bulldog his entire life. And Katie pretty much wrapped him around her paw the first moment he saw her. She stepped on her food bowl and flipped it up and over onto her head, then proceeded to wear it like some kind of hat. That was that. He was in love. He didn't bring her home that day, but over the next day or so talked himself into it by saying that he'd stop by after work and if she was still there, then he'd bring her home. She was still there, so he snatched her up. I can still picture her running around out in the yard when he got home. We had three other dogs at the time, Malcolm, Beulah, and Wiggles. Katie went after all of them with brazen bravado. Poor Beulah was just too shocked to know how to react. Anyway, it took us a couple of days to settle on a name for her, but we eventually chose Katie-Bar-the-Door, because she was like a little ball of wild energy and true to her breed name, pretty much bulled her way into and through everything.<br />
<br />
It didn't take us long to learn that Katie was flat out the smartest dog either Mark or I had ever known. And he owned a Border Collie when he was a kid. Katie picked up on words we spoke and learned them without us actually trying to teach them to her. I have joked for years that if Katie had opposable thumbs, she's be ruling the world by now. Anyway, despite the fact that Briscoe is four years younger than she is, Katie still somehow manages to be the baby.<br />
<br />
Katie used to worry us because she grazed grass like a cow. I mean she'll go outside and literally graze from one patch to another, eating all the way. We'd always heard that dogs ate grass when they were sick, so we worried until I finally bought a book or looked it up on the internet or something and found that some dogs are just that way. It's the ones who don't regularly eat grass and then suddenly start doing it that you have to worry about. Which brings up Briscoe. Katie is something of an atypical Bulldog. We read books about them when she was a baby, that warned of issues with drool and flatulence and snoring and breathing issues, so we kept waiting for all that to develop, but it never did. So we decided to get her a little brother and along came Briscoe. He, unlike Katie, is the quintessential Bulldog. He drools consistently. And he snores loud enough to wake the dead, sometimes. And the gas! Oh, Lord, the gas can be bad enough to bring tears to your eyes! Plus, he has other issues that are typical of Bullies, including some trouble with breathing and eating due to the cramped nature of his snout and throat. He has this lovely thing he does where he goes and drinks half a gallon of water, then walks into the living room and regurgitates it all right back up. He does it with food, too. (The things we'll put up with for the sake of love.) He's done it most of his life, which is why it doesn't freak us out any longer. It's just part of who he is. Katie, on the other hand, never gets sick.<br />
<br />
This is why Mark and I got very worried about her on Sunday night, Jan. 8th. She started vomiting and kept on vomiting until there just wasn't anything left to come up. Eventually, we decided to take her to the same ER Vet who'd saved her life a few years back when she developed Pyometra, which is an infection of the uterus requiring immediate surgery. So we rushed her all the way up to Wilder, KY. Keep in mind that Mark was due to fly out to New Jersey first thing Monday morning. It was about 12:30AM when we decided to take her. We got her there and they took a look at her and confirmed that something was definitely up. We were afraid that she might have swallowed a piece of a toy. Katie is a serious power chewer. She absolutely must kill anything that squeaks. Which is why we buy her the hardest, toughest squeaky things we can find. No fluffy little fake rabbits for her. She'd have them gutted and de-stuffed within a matter of seconds. She got a new toy for Christmas that we hoped might last more than a couple of days. She killed it faster than we expected, though, and sat about ripping it to pieces out of spite because it had dared to SQUEAK at her!<br />
<br />
Katie has never, ever been one to actually eat her toys. Or shoes or wires or any of the other things puppies often find so appealing. Briscoe, however, did take the opportunity to use the gear shift in my car as a chew toy when he was still a little thing. It still has the teeth marks. Anyway, despite the fact that Katie has never made it a habit to actually eat the things she chews on, we started worrying that she might have swallowed a piece of this toy. That's what we told the vet on duty that night and pretty much what she expected had happened. She took Katie off to take an x-ray, then came back a few minutes later and I knew from the look on her face that it was something bad.<br />
<br />
The good news was that Katie had not eaten any pieces of her toy. The bad news was she had some kind of enormous mass in her abdomen that was so large it was shoving all her organs out of place. The vet that night wasn't sure if it was one of her kidneys or something else. It was just too big to be sure. So we left Katie there and got home just in time to take a short 45 minute nap before we had to be back up and on the way to the airport. Later that morning I got a call from the day vet saying that they wanted to do surgery. We'd already figured that was going to have to happen. The surgeon called a little while later and said he'd go in and try to get all of whatever it was out. He did the surgery that afternoon.<br />
<br />
Bulldogs are always risky to operate on. Their short noses make breathing normally a bit of an issue. Add in sedation and it can become a dangerous situation very quickly. But there was no choice. So I waited on pins and needles all afternoon until they finally called and said the surgery was over and she was fine.<br />
<br />
I won't go into all the gory details about what he found when he opened her up. Suffice it to say that this thing was nearly the size of a soccer ball. It was full of fluid and pretty much deflated when he cut into it. He took what he could out, but there was a lot he could not remove because it was very extensive. He sent biopsies off to be tested and I went and picked her up on Tuesday afternoon.<br />
<br />
She was very sore and any movement at all was hard for her. Plus, we found out pretty quick that she had some trouble keeping food and even water down. (It was a bit like having two Briscoe's in the house.) Mark came home on Thursday afternoon and had a meeting he had to go to. It wound up being after seven by the time we got home. There was a message from the vet waiting saying he had the biopsy results. I didn't call him back that night. Mark had another meeting on Friday and had to go before I even had the chance to call the vet. When I did, he told me that it was cancer.<br />
<br />
What's the likelihood? I get done with cancer and now my dog has it? So, I wound up taking her back up there Friday afternoon so the surgeon could check her over and he started telling me about what she had and how they'd treat it. Chemo, of course. What else do you do for cancer? He mentions the names of a couple of the chemos they use and low and behold, one of them is Adriamycin. I had to stop him there. I explained that I'd just finished cancer treatment and one of the chemo's I received was Adriamycin. I was plenty familiar with it.<br />
<br />
We came back home with Katie. Just like me, her surgical wound had to heal before they could start the chemo. But the problems holding down food never did quite go away. Then, this afternoon she suddenly stopped being able to hold down anything at all, again. It was like deja vu from the night we took her up to the ER. I called the vet and he said to bring her in. They took her away from me again, to give her fluids and medicine to try to stop the vomiting and nausea. It looks like she might get her first chemo tomorrow. It will depend on how she does tonight.<br />
<br />
The surgeon believes that the cancer in her abdomen is so extensive that it is essentially causing a blockage, which is why she keeps having problems keeping down food. His hope is that the chemo will shrink the size of all those tissues, thereby making it easier for her to eat comfortably. I called to check on her earlier this evening and at that time she still hadn't eaten anything, but then they'd just put food in her pen right before I called. All her vitals were fine, which at least means she isn't getting markedly worse. I'll call in the morning to check on her and to see if they're going to go ahead with the chemo.<br />
<br />
So, here I am, trying not to worry about her and praying that she'll improve and not take a turn for the worse. I cannot tell you how much I love that dog. She is so very sweet and gave me more comfort and laughter during my own cancer journey than I could ever express. I am trying very hard not to worry about what I cannot change. It isn't easy, though. I miss my baby girl and I am very afraid that this may be the tip of the iceberg when it comes to missing her. Because if she doesn't respond the meds, then there's only going to be one other option. The very thought of it makes me nauseous.<br />
<br />
I've been fighting tears all afternoon. I don't want to lose my baby girl. Not now. Not yet. Please, Lord, let her hang on. Let the medicine work. Give me strength, Lord, to face whatever is coming.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-61056956841173634842011-12-09T23:49:00.000-06:002011-12-09T23:49:07.883-06:00The Squeaker...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">[This post will have to wait a few days to be published, because we have a rule about making it public (as in broadcasting it to the world on the web) when Mark is out of town. This week he's in Costa Rica for business. The events described took place on the night of December 7th and the following day, Thursday, December 8th.]</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am SUCH a sap. </span></div><br />
We have mice. Now, I am not the kind of woman who sees a mouse and runs screaming for help. (I reserve that for spiders, as they are clearly the deadliest creatures on earth and perfectly capable of ripping my arm off and beating me to death with it.) I do not fear or even hate mice, per se, but neither do I appreciate them chewing on and/or pooping all over my stuff. We have made several attempts to deal with them. Poison seems to have no effect. (Judging by the fact that I put it out, they scarf it down, and yet still keep right on living.) We tried one of those live "catch and release" traps but our mice are apparently too smart to fall for it. Neither Mark nor I could quite bring ourselves to set out the old-fashioned snap traps. 1) I don't want to have to empty them; 2) we have cats who would undoubtedly get their noses or feet snapped off while trying to steal the mouse bait. Which brings up the whole thing with the cats.<br />
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We have 3 cats. Generally speaking, they are fairly sucky at mouse catching. That, or they are just too lazy to bother. (Mark's theory.) At least one of them is capable of catching mice. There have been a few times the we got up in the morning to find a partially eaten and/or mutilated mouse corpse waiting for us on the kitchen floor. (Gross, I know, but at least she doesn't feel the need to bring her "present" into the bedroom and leave it on the bed for us.) There has been much debate about which cat is the capable, if lazy, mouser. Of the 3, there are 2 candidates: Lily and Marble.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lily</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marble</td></tr>
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The 3rd cat is not an option. Phoebe is too old to care about chasing much of anything. She spends most of her time sleeping. Plus, she has this frustrating little problem with being unable to retract her claws. We call her the Velcro kitty because she tends to stick to things. Just walking across the carpet can be funny to watch. If she took a swipe at a mouse, the thing would still be stuck her foot hours later. So, either Marble or Lily is our off/on mouser. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mark is not a big fan of cats. He prefers dogs. You wouldn't know he has a preference, though, considering how willing he is to buy them toys. Lily generally deems herself above playing with "fake" mice and plastic balls with bells in them. Marble, on the other hand, goes bonkers for all of them. She will carry the fake mice around the house in her mouth, sometimes meowing at them. She chases the jingle balls until she loses them beneath furniture. Watching her play is not only cute, but entertaining as well. Which might explain why, when we were browsing the pet aisle at our local Wal-Mart a few weeks back, Mark took me seriously when I picked up a specific cat toy and joked that we ought to buy it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">Normally, when I get toys for the cats, I stick to the cheapest stuff I can find. I get the multi-packs of ridiculously colored fake mice or plastic jingle balls. This toy was different, though. It was a good-sized fake, stuffed mouse. What makes this mouse so special, besides its cute little ears, is that it makes a realistic squeaking noise. Every time the mouse moves, even just a tiny bit, it squeaks. I joked about how much the cats would love it and Mark was like, "Get it." So we did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxHCZ5t6PkkGwW_zjXvPHH76gNPfyHXPJlUmv5l-A9UmHw33ZJ080Y3Tqz-XAtGIWc8hLTgQu66CL7dn7xYLA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>We brought it home and tossed it in the floor and Marble went nuts for it. Lily even plays with it sometimes. The cats find and lose and find and lose it over and over again. We'll see them batting it all over the place and laugh about someone finding "The Squeaker." Then it will disappear for a couple of days. The squeaking is fairly loud, so we can hear it whenever they have it, even if the TV is on. Mark says he's been woken up a few times during the night by the non-stop squeaking while Marble swatted it around. I've never heard it then, but I'm good at tuning those kinds of things out.<br />
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So I tell you all this so that I can tell you THIS. I was sitting here last night messing with my computer. Not sure what I was actually doing. Reading or something. Anyway, the TV was on but I wasn't really watching it. Then I heard the squeaker start up and I thought, "Oh, they've found it." I haven't seen or heard it in a few days. There's no telling where it was. I heard the squeak, then the sound of cat feet running around in the kitchen, then more squeaking. This went on for a few minutes before I sat aside the computer and glanced over into the kitchen. That's when I realized that the "squeaker" Lily and Marble were playing with was NOT the one we'd bought in the store.<br />
<br />
There, in the middle of the floor, was a little mouse. A live one. Lily was doing that thing cats do where they let it go and wait for it to try to run before they smack it again. Now, as I have said, I do not appreciate the mice making themselves at home in my cabinets. I am always proud of my cats when I find that they've rid the house of one more of the little pests. However, I am way too much of a sap to actually sit and watch them kill one. So, idiot that I am, I got up and grabbed a cup and a paper plate and joined Lily and Marble in chasing the thing around the kitchen. It was pretty much worn out after what it had already been through. Plus, Lily and Marble actually helped herd it. I put the cup on the floor and used the paper plate to prod the mouse into the cup, then stood there trying to figure out what to do next.<br />
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If it were summer, I would have just put it outside. No doubt the mouse would have just found its way back into the house, but my primary goal was to not have to watch it die. But it was freezing cold out and since the thing is used to living in the house, I was standing there thinking that tossing it outside would be no better than letting the cats kill it. So I parked myself on the couch with my cup o'mouse beside me and sent Mark an email.<br />
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This is the actual email exchange between us. <br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>Me:</i> I heard squeaking & figured the cats were playing with the mouse.<br />
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I was right. It just wasn't the one I thought. <br />
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I couldn't stand to watch (or listen to) them kill it, so now I have it in a cup & have no idea what to do with it. I'm such a sap!<br />
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<i>Mark:</i> Unfortunately if they broke the skin it is dead already. I can get a habitrail for Christmas if otherwise<br />
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<i>Me:</i> I think it's actually all right, unless there's some kind of internal damage. It was clearly terrified, but running all over the place trying to escape Lily and Marble. I'm not actually going to try to handle it, of course, but from what I can see, it looks fine physically. It was panting like mad, but has settled down now that it's not getting cat paws to the head. It'd toss it outside, but I figure it'll just freeze to death.<br />
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<i>Mark:</i> Keep it. There is a small aquarium in the barn you can get tomorrow rip up the old clothes for bedding water cheese what more does a mouse need until we buy some bedding chips and a habitrail . I not sure what to put it in until tomorrow. Probably needs water and warm dark place.<br />
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<i>Me:</i> Great. A pet mouse. What the heck are we going to call him? Her? God in heaven, I'm screwed up!<br />
<div></div>Love and miss you. Guess I'll go hunt up something to keep the little twerp in.</blockquote></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Mark:</i> Twerp is a unisex name.</div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"><div><i>Me:</i> I have to be in Madison tomorrow so assuming the mouse survives the night, I'll stop in at China-mart <i>(our nickname lately for Wal-Mart)</i> and see if they have a small habitrail. At the very least, I'll pick him up some hamster food, as apparently cheese is not actually what they should be fed. Seems that they are lactose intolerant. Who knew? I gave him some dog and cat food, plus some sunflower seeds. Water too, of course. We'll see how it goes. </div><div><br />
</div><div>My appt. tomorrow isn't until 9:45, so you should have no trouble getting hold of me in the morning. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I love you. Twerp loves you, too, since you didn't suggest I let the cats eat him/her. <img alt=":) happy" src="http://mail.yimg.com/ok/u/assets/img/emoticons/emo1.gif" /></div></blockquote><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">And so, Twerp got moved into a fairly large plastic tub that once held kitty litter. This seemed somehow appropriate to me. I stuck him/her in the hall bathroom, so that I could shut the door and prevent the cats from finishing what they'd started. This morning I got up to check on Twerp and sure enough, he/she was fine. (I'm leaning toward she, because as I told Mark earlier, with my luck she's already pregnant and will soon give birth to a dozen more little Twerps.)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKwSoWvf3r7ayAbNYMIu6CP6GfLDhzSnCcXIVzhTlC09OnOoU3ColV9nqP9-YTxlZoWaHy9hMXyuLIkvqNXz005ZjGuAKwzAG7TMNP9AsxPvUQr9iiQexVAX67Y4wXjsrlsIWA1YlsnA/s1600/Twerp+in+tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKwSoWvf3r7ayAbNYMIu6CP6GfLDhzSnCcXIVzhTlC09OnOoU3ColV9nqP9-YTxlZoWaHy9hMXyuLIkvqNXz005ZjGuAKwzAG7TMNP9AsxPvUQr9iiQexVAX67Y4wXjsrlsIWA1YlsnA/s320/Twerp+in+tub.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The big white thing in front is a toilet paper tube that I put in there thinking Twerp would like the idea of hiding in it. When I first checked on her this morning, she was inside it. I could just see her little butt sticking out. When I went back to check on her right before I left, she'd come out and was just sitting there.<br />
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So I went to my doctor's appointment, then went by Wal-Mart and picked up some stuff, including a little cage, complete with wheel, house, and water bottle. I got a couple of different kinds of feed, one for rats and mice that looks like little cardboard bricks and a hamster/gerbil mix that has seeds and stuff in it. Plus Twerp has a little salt wheel to lick and some apple sticks to chew on. Mice are like rabbits that way. They need to chew. Anyway, I got home and put the cage together, then added some bedding/litter made from ground up corn cobs. (I figure Twerp will like to eat that, too.) And finally I was ready to add Twerp. This was a bit more complicated than I expected, mostly because the door on the cage isn't all that large. Plus, Twerp proved to be completely uninterested in getting back into another cup. Eventually, I did convince her to go into her little toilet paper tube and so I picked it up and carefully put her into her new home. She does not like it.<br />
<br />
<br />
She spent a couple of minutes running around, trying to figure out how to escape through the bars. Then she just parked herself in a corner and glared at me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNc_ayJwEypQfjFESAEC42kl520vqyW65oA2BQ6oS7l3Mv6JYicBgP_46nDS07bWsgeSRZ3xK6uDrxgRmIVOkqlYOAFAr0LgUrpI46rVJUve31kO9QOU2pr-lXUgn_zrXdmuMJohaXwo/s1600/Twerp+in+cage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNc_ayJwEypQfjFESAEC42kl520vqyW65oA2BQ6oS7l3Mv6JYicBgP_46nDS07bWsgeSRZ3xK6uDrxgRmIVOkqlYOAFAr0LgUrpI46rVJUve31kO9QOU2pr-lXUgn_zrXdmuMJohaXwo/s320/Twerp+in+cage.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Of course, she has no idea that I not only saved her life last night, but am bending over backwards to keep her alive. See, when I got home from the store this morning. I found a gruesome little present waiting for me in the kitchen floor. This mouse - possibly Twerp's sister or brother or even a parent - was not as fortunate as Twerp. I was not here to rescue it. And so all that was left was a head and a bloody smear on the linoleum. (Double gross!)<br />
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Apparently, Lily did not appreciate me taking her super realistic "squeaker" away from her last night, so she went and caught herself another one. I do feel kinda sorry for it, but honestly, I'm just glad that she waited until I was gone to do it so that I wouldn't wind up with a pair of mice instead of just the one!<br />
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Ah, well, such is life. I don't know what's worse, me for being too much of a sissy to condemn the thing to death (either by cat or by freezing) or Mark for immediately suggesting we keep it like a pet. I have told him many times that when I was a kid I always wanted a hamster or gerbil. I had friends who had one and I thought it was just so cute. Mamma wasn't going for it, though. Dogs and cats were as far into the pet pool as we were going. Well, there were some chickens and a horse. And a duck named Seymour who was actually a female. But no rodents of any kind. Mark had a hamster when he was a kid and it escaped. His mom never quite forgave him for that.<br />
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<br />
Anyway, we now have a pet mouse. More accurately, we have a captive mouse, since Twerp does not actually seem interested in being a pet. I guess she'll live out her live in comfort and luxury though.<br />
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Anybody know how long mice live?<br />
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UPDATE: Well, I got up this morning (Friday, Dec. 9) and went to check on Twerp. Apparently, I did not secure the door properly and there was no Twerp in the cage. I looked all over the place, just to make sure, but she/he was gone. I was both saddened and relieved by this.<br />
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Then, tonight, right about the time I was due to start getting ready to go pick Mark up at the airport, I heard something fall over on the counter. A second later I heard a cat hit the floor. Sure enough, here came Lily trotting around the bar with a mouse in her mouth. I sighed, then got up and grabbed a cup. By the time I'd done that, Lily had dropped the mouse and it was making a run for it. She and Marble gave chase with me right behind them. This went on for a few minutes, Lily or Marble grabbing the mouse or swatting the mouse, me trying to keep them from killing it, it running behind anything and everything trying to get away from all of us. Eventually, the mouse faked the cats out and ran behind a box. I moved the box and it shot across the kitchen and behind the door that leads to the laundry room. The cats went after it and I followed. None of us was sure if it was still behind the door or if it had gone around the corner into the half bath. I was going in there to check when it took off back toward the kitchen then hung a right and darted across the living room floor. Lily caught sight of it and gave chase all the way to the end table. I sank onto the floor to look under the end table to see if Lily had caught it or if it was hiding somewhere. Right about that time, Katie (the dog) decided that she needed to join the fun. She came over to investigate all the action going on around the end table. The mouse picked that moment to dart out from behind the curtain where it had hidden. It spotted Lily and veered off, disappearing under the couch. Lily came out from under the end table, trying to follow the mouse. Katie took that opportunity to give Lily some of what she'd been dishing out to the mouse. She smacked Lily with her foot and tried to hold her down. Lily was too slick for her, though, and slid out between her back legs.<br />
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So, the mouse was safe beneath the couch. I have no idea if it was Twerp or not. If it was, then she clearly didn't learn her lesson about tangling with the cats. Mark came in and took a look at the cage and all the stuff in it and was like, "What mouse would leave this?" I must say I agree. It's a pretty snazzy setup. We're now thinking about getting a gerbil for it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="goog_804318299"></span><span id="goog_804318300"></span></div><div id="greasedLightboxOverlay"><div id="greasedLightbox"><img id="greasedLightboxImage" /><br />
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Being Southern by birth and heritage, it's an inescapable part of me. I openly admit that I had racist parents. But I also will add that they were what I think of as "generational" racists, meaning that they believed and repeated what they'd heard from their own parents. It had nothing to do with their personal experiences with people of color. They just grew up hearing a bunch of garbage and regurgitated it right back out.<br />
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This brings to mind a snippet from a live recording of a Carmen concert that I have on tape. On it he quotes Philippians 4:8.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">Finally, brethren, whatsoever <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x4"></a>things are true, whatsoever <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x8"></a>things <i>are</i> honest, whatsoever <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x12"></a>things <i>are</i> just, whatsoever <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x16"></a>things <i>are</i> pure, whatsoever <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x20"></a>things <i>are</i> lovely, whatsoever <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x24"></a>things <i>are</i> of good report; if <i>there be</i> any virtue, and if <i>there be</i> any praise, <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x40"></a>think <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x41"></a>on <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x42"></a>these <a href="" id="essa" name="34771x43"></a>things. </blockquote>Then he says, "Basically, garbage in, garbage out." I have never forgotten that. And as it relates to the vast majority of the racism I grew up being exposed to, I know most were just dumping out the same old garbage they'd been ingesting all their lives.<br />
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I grew up being exposed to it all, too. I won't even repeat the countless things I remember hearing my parents say. And I know I repeated at least some of it before I was old enough to recognize it for the garbage it was. I also know that my mother at least learned that much of what she'd been taught to believe was wrong. Mostly this came when she was finally in a situation where she worked with a black woman on a daily basis. That experience changed much of how she thought and felt. Still, I can only imagine the bedlam that would have ensued if I had met and fallen in love with someone of color, then tried to bring him home.<br />
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Which brings us to the situation that has got me thinking about all this. You may or may not have already heard about it. But it comes from a Freewill Baptist church in Eastern Kentucky. Here's the link: <a href="http://www.news24.com/World/News/US-church-bans-mixed-race-couples-20111203">US Church Bans Mixed-Race Couples</a>.<br />
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Man, my heart sank when I first read that headline a day or so ago. Mostly because I knew that it would ignite a firestorm of backlash from untold numbers calling the church in question racists and worse. I know that it is likely less about straightforward racism though, than about a handful of people clinging to old prejudices and Bible verses taken out of context.<br />
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God laid out an extensive list of rules for the Israelites. One of them was that they were not to intermarry with other nations. The Old Testament mentions this more than once. Clearly God meant what He was saying. And He was kind enough to give us the reasons why He did not want His people marrying those of other nationalities. That reason is not only a sensible one, but a practical one. In short, He didn't want His people marrying people from other nations because those people would have their own gods and beliefs and this likely would cause the Jews to stray from their devotion to God. Makes a lot of sense. I can't imagine how hard it would be to remain strong in your faith when the person you are closest to not only didn't share it, but urged you to dump your faith and follow theirs. And even if your spouse wasn't pushing you to share their beliefs, it would inhibit complete unity between you if your core beliefs differed. So God forbade His people from mixed-nationality marriage. (Notice I said nationality, not race.)<br />
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As a quick aside, He also forbade them from wearing blended fabrics. He commanded that they should wear tassels on the corners of their garments. He commanded that men should not cut the hair on their temples. He commanded that His people observe a series of festivals and feasts throughout the year. He commanded that on the seventh day no work of any kind was to be done. He declared that certain animals could not be eaten because they were "unclean." The list - if you want to call it that - goes on and on and on.<br />
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Don't get me wrong. I absolutely believe that God laid down these laws. And I believe that He not only expected but demanded that they be obeyed. There are multiple examples in the Bible of people who flaunted these laws and rules and paid some steep consequences. Many of the great men of God were led astray by wives (or concubines - another thing God did not condone) and wound up turning their backs on God and worshiping other deities. Most of them came back to God eventually, but that straying caused them a lot of grief. So, there is absolutely Biblical evidence that God did indeed prohibit certain marriages.<br />
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HOWEVER - and this is the thing that so many seem to either miss or intentionally turn a blind eye to - these edicts about marriage are all in the Old Testament. They are all a part of the Law that was given to the Jews. Which is where the problem with prohibiting interracial marriage TODAY arises.<br />
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First, we are not under the Law. Jesus made that abundantly clear. He came to fulfill the Law. And even if one wants to make some kind of argument against that (though I can't imagine how) there is the also ignored point that the Law was given to the Jews, not the rest of the world. I am not a Jew. I am not a descendant of Abraham. Nor, I assume, are any of the members of this Baptist church. Since we are what the Bible refers to as "Gentiles" we have never been under the Law. Not buying that either? Then please, for the love of everything Holy, explain to me why it is that this particular tenet of the Law is the only one that seems to be singled out for adherence? What about that tassel thing? Or not eating pork? Or not wearing clothes made of mixed fabrics? And why is it that I've never heard a Protestant Christian teach or preach that we ought to be observing the Feast of Tabernacles or Passover? What about stoning our kids when they lie to us? Or how about stoning a woman who is raped in a town but didn't scream for help? And if sin is sin (which the Bible tells us it is) then how is any man who cuts the hair at his temples different than someone who marries a person with a different skin color? <br />
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You see the problem, I hope. We cannot pick and choose bits and pieces of the Law and claim that they are still in effect without in turn declaring the entire Law to still be our governor. This is exactly what we are taught NOT to do! The Law is not our master any longer. The New Testament tells us repeatedly that we have been freed from the Law. It's rules are no longer binding. Circumcision is no longer required. Sacrifices are no longer necessary. And God made it abundantly clear that the strict separation laws are no longer valid as well.<br />
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This is what I have always had trouble understanding. How is it that so many Christians flat out overlook what God tells us in Acts 10? God didn't just tell Peter to go preach to a Gentile. I mean, most Christians will swear with their last breath that God wants everyone to be saved, regardless of the color of their skin. Anyone who would dare to say otherwise is not what I'd call a Christian. Anyway, people have no problem with the idea of people of other colors being saved. (They'd have to flat out ignore that whole Ethiopian getting saved and baptized in Acts 8.) Yet some of these same Christians draw some kind of line at the idea of - lets just say it - a black man marrying a white woman or a white man marrying a black woman. I've often wondered if they would make the same distinction with say a person of Hispanic descent, or Asian, or Native American ancestry, or is it just black/white? I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say they would.<br />
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So, God tells Peter to go preach to Cornelius, a non-Jew. No problem. But wait, that isn't just what God said in this passage. Remember all those rules from the Old Testament? One of them is "No pork, because it's unclean." Yet, while Peter is praying, his stomach presumably growling because the Bible tells us he was hungry, God gives him a vision. He shows Peter an assortment of animals, some of which were obviously on the "Do Not Eat" list and says, "Get up and kill yourself some food here and eat it." (Obviously I'm paraphrasing, here. If you want the word for word version, read Acts chapter 10.) Peter is not only stunned, but seems to be a bit insulted. He puffs out his chest and says, "No way! I've never eaten anything unclean!" Does God give him a big old pat on the back? Nope, He says, "Don't call anything unclean that I have cleansed." And God didn't just say this once, He repeated it two more times. I reckon He wanted to make sure Peter got the message.<br />
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While Peter is sitting there, trying to figure out exactly what God was trying to tell him, here comes a bunch of Gentiles wanting him to come with them. And suddenly, things start to click in his head. He goes off with them and meets Cornelius where he says, "I know it's supposed to be unlawful for me to keep company with a Gentile, but God has shown me that I should call no man common or unclean." The actual verse just for emphasis:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">And he said unto them, Ye know how that it is an <u>unlawful</u> thing for a man that is a Jew to keep company, or come unto one of another nation; but <span style="background-color: #ffd966;">God hath shewed me that I should not call any man common or unclean</span>. <br />
Acts 10:28 (KJV)</blockquote>Peter goes on to point out that he now realizes that God is no respecter of persons, meaning that God has done away with that whole "I'm extra special because I was born a Jew and everyone else is lower than the dirt beneath my feet." (I am not saying that the Jews are no longer "God's chosen people." God made a covenant with them that is everlasting. They hold a unique and special place in God's heart and in His plan. But they are NOT the only ones who can or will be saved. Not anymore.) <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him. <br />
Acts 10:35 (KJV)</blockquote>Tell me that this does not expressly say that anyone, in any nation, of any nationality, who fears God and accepts Him is deemed acceptable in His sight. Jesus didn't die just for the Jews. He didn't die only for a select group of people with a single color of skin. The fact is, we are all the same race. We are human. The color of our skin is a quirk of nature and genetics. God is no respecter of persons. He isn't a blue eyed, white man with flowing white hair and beard. Jesus absolutely did not have blonde hair and blue eyes. Which brings us full circle back to old prejudices.<br />
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God made it abundantly clear with the story of Cornelius and Peter that the old laws about who the Jews could and could not associate with were null and void thanks to the sacrifice made by His Son, Jesus. Peter points out that it was previously unlawful for a Jew to even spend time with someone from another nation. Never mind marrying one of them. Remember how surprised the Samaritan woman at the well was when Jesus not only spoke to her, but asked her to give him water? She had good reason to be surprised considering Jewish tradition and Law. Yet Jesus Himself refused to be swayed by such prejudices.<br />
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He staunchly ignored the Jewish notion of superiority and routinely spent His time with the very people the Jews abhorred. I don't imagine it was easy for Peter and the others to let go of the things they'd spent their lives being taught and possibly even believing themselves. The Bible doesn't give us any extra info about Peter's meeting with Cornelius, like whether or not Peter felt uncomfortable but pushed it aside so that he could honor God by obeying His will. I can't help but wonder if Peter had to remind himself a few times that things were different than they used to be. Oh, wait, I'm pretty sure the Bible told us that he did struggle with such issues. In Galatians 2 Paul has to call Peter to task because Peter is living a dual life, one for the Jews and one for the Gentiles. Basically, Peter seems to understand and accept that God has done away with the separation between the Jews and Gentiles, but when other Jews show up, he falls back into the old prejudices and starts observing the old traditions. So clearly it took some time for old habits and patterns of thinking to be done away with. If Peter had to work at letting go of the prejudices that had been instilled in him all his life, then I don't expect it to be any easier for us.<br />
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I don't know how old I was when I first started to realize that the things I'd heard my whole life were based in ignorance and prejudice. I can't remember when I first turned that corner in my understanding. I only know that these days, I'm regularly appalled by the racism I see in people who proclaim themselves to be Christians. (Let's not even get into political and social racism, which is not just a problem with whites.) Got told us that all scripture is given by God and is of benefit to us.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">All scripture <i>is</i> given by inspiration of God, and <i>is</i> <a href="" id="essa" name="35295x11"></a>profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: <br />
2 Tim 3:16 (KJV)</blockquote>All means ALL, including the Old Testament. We aren't under the Law any longer, but that doesn't mean that there's no value in it and no lessons to be learned from it. My take from the whole ban on marriage with other nationalities is that there is plenty of reason to be careful when entering into a relationship with someone of a different nationality or "race." Along with different nationalities come different cultures. I've known white people from South Africa who believe and practice things I find exotic and strange. They're white and so fair game as far as marriage goes according to the Kentucky church and those who share their beliefs. But I say that "legal" marriage could be far more troublesome than one between people of different skin colors because if both of them aren't Christians, then all those same problems that God mentioned back in the Old Testament come into play. It doesn't matter what color your skin is, it matters who your God is. This is such a simple, undeniable truth, that I find myself repeatedly stunned by how unwilling some are to accept it.<br />
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To be sure, interracial marriage isn't something to be entered into lightly. Obviously, it is still going to cause some issues because there are clearly some out there who find it offensive. But I can see no believable, sustainable argument against it in the Bible. What I do see is Christians, often very decent people, who just can't quite seem to rid themselves of the deeply imbedded threads of racism that they very often aren't even willing to admit they possess. But then that's the flaw we all suffer from, isn't it? We are all incredibly skilled at ignoring and/or excusing our own flaws and failings. And that's why I'm writing this. Because I wonder how many of us are willing to take a long, hard, critical look at why we believe what we believe? How many of us are willing or even able to look at our own motives and beliefs objectively? It isn't an easy thing to do, especially when our beliefs and prejudices are challenged openly. So how about taking a little time wherever you are to look inward at what you believe? Is it really something you can back up with Scripture, or are you merely clinging to things you've heard or been told that conveniently line up with your personal feelings? It would do us all good to ask ourselves these kinds of questions. And it would do the whole world good if we would not just ask the questions, but act on the answers.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-14800428549456638862011-11-07T13:22:00.000-06:002011-11-07T13:22:51.006-06:00The End of This Trail...It is so hard to believe that I'm pretty much at the the end of my cancer journey. I got my final treatment last Thursday. I have other appointments. I will get a heart scan and then see my oncologist in early December. I'll make regular trips to the treatment center to get my port flushed until they finally decide to remove it. I guess that will be the true end of it all.<br />
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I'll keep the port for a while, just in case a new problem arises. Lord willing, that won't be an issue. But better safe than sorry. I'll have a second mammogram on the breast that had the tumor some time early next year. I'll see my doctors regularly for the next year or so, then, assuming nothing new pops up, I'll be done with the cancer.<br />
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Of course, I'll never be truly rid of it. I'll spend the rest of my life feeling a bit like Damocles, always aware that there is a sword dangling overhead that could potentially drop at any moment. The difference, of course, is that unlike Damocles, I cannot simply choose to return to my carefree life. No cancer survivor can. Gosh, that sounds morbid, but I don't mean for it to. I'm simply pointing out that a cancer diagnosis is always life altering. Once that diagnosis is made, things change forever. Or they do for most of us. Because even if the cancer itself never returns, there are other consequences of having beaten the disease. Like the damage that can be done by the treatments that might not show up until years later. It becomes something of a waiting game, always wondering if that sword is going to come crashing down one day when you least expect it.<br />
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The point, I suppose, is that we have to keep going forward in spite of the danger we might face down the road. I can't just sit here and wait for the cancer to return or for my heart to fail or for any other frightening, unexpected, life-altering event. I have to live. I have to accept that things are different and always will be. I have to reject the part of me that is afraid of what might happen. It would be easy to live in fear. But I refuse to do it. Oh, I worry more now about little things. I mean, anything that "feels" wrong is enough to make me debate whether I need to talk to the doctor about it. Usually, I do. Because it would just be stupid not to. But I do not and will not let those concerns rule me.<br />
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God has given me freedom from the urge to worry or be afraid. To reject that freedom would be to reject Him. I won't be foolish, ignoring possible problems, but neither will I let fears of what might (or might not) happen at some point in the future ruin today. I had cancer. It will take years - a decade - of not seeing it return before doctors will give me the title of "Cancer Free." That's a long way off. And those words don't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things anyway. Because cancer doesn't operate on anyone's timetable. No matter how many times doctors and insurance companies tell us that we're not at the age where we need to worry about it, there will still be women like me who get a diagnosis in their thirties - or even younger. There will be women like my mother-in-law who get diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor that is generally considered a "man's cancer." There will be people who beat it and go for decades before it suddenly rears it's ugly head once more. There will be children who barely begin to live before this damned disease takes their lives. And if it isn't cancer, then it will be something else. Life just can't be planned out like a business conference.<br />
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It is up to each of us to decide how we will live. Are we going to go through life with a massive chip on our shoulders, just daring God to knock it off? Or will we trust that He is always in control? That everything we experience, even the tragic, painful, or terrible things, are part of a grander plan that we cannot begin to see or understand? That's the belief I choose. I cannot fathom how anyone could do otherwise. Life is not easy. As the cliche says, no one ever promised it would be a bed of roses. And even if they had, roses have thorns. It is our responsibility to grow and learn from every experience. Our responsibility to understand that the world does not revolve around us. We don't have to understand everything. We don't have to have the answers to every single question. We just have to keep moving forward, keep growing and learning and trusting. And if we can do that, I think most of us will find that life comes with much more laughter and love than tears and pain. Because peace doesn't come from a lack of tribulation and storms, it comes from knowing that there is always a safe place in the heart of those storms. As one of my favorite expressions says, "God doesn't always quiet the storm, sometimes He quiets His child." Jesus said, "peace, be still" to the wind and waves, but He said it to us, too. Sometimes we just have to obey and let the waves and wind rage on around us.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-1475232913171782632011-10-17T09:51:00.000-05:002011-10-17T09:51:36.382-05:00My, How Time Flies...It's almost over. There is one treatment left to go. There will still be a few more months of cancer related tests and appointments, of course. And the port will have to be flushed every six weeks until they decide to remove it. But after the first week in November, my cancer treatment will officially be over.<br />
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Looking back, it hardly seems possible that it has been more than a year since that moment when my doctor got that worried look on her face while doing my breast exam. It also seems hard to believe that that moment was truly the worst one of the whole journey. That instant when the whole world seemed to stop and my stomach dipped uneasily as I realized she'd found something she didn't like. That single split second when my mind leapt forward to the idea of cancer.<br />
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I know we're all different. From our individual personalities to our faith - or lack thereof - to our specific cancers and the treatments they require. Compared to so many others, I think I got off easy. I did not need a mastectomy. The cancer, while aggressive, was confined to that single tumor, making a lumpectomy the best option. My chemo was potent, but relatively short in duration. (Only 4 treatments of the worst stuff compared to others who've needed far more.) Eight total chemo treatments and six or so weeks of radiation just seemed to fly by.<br />
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When I look back, it's actually kind of hard to remember just how difficult it was. The pain could be intense at times. And the radiation left me feeling like a severely overcooked slab of meat, complete with blisters and peeling skin. There is still soreness. My breast varies from being mildly sore like an overworked muscle to being so sensitive that washing it in the shower is uncomfortable. It feels different than the other one. And while the Herceptin that I've been getting for the past year carries only one real side effect, it's a serious one. Potential heart failure at any point down the road. So that's something we'll have to keep an eye on. But all in all, I still count myself as having been profoundly blessed. Because I know I had it easy.<br />
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I think that's one of biggest keys to getting through the treatment. We have to keep in mind that it could always, ALWAYS, be so much worse. Worse for me would be if it were someone other than myself. Because one of the things I have realized is that I find it profoundly easier to be the patient than to be the caregiver. Not because I dislike caring for others, but because it absolutely breaks my heart to see those I love in pain. I'm a fixer, I guess. Sadly, cancer isn't something that can be hugged or loved away. Plus, I have no fear at all of dying. Losing those I love, however, is something I abhor.<br />
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Caring for and loving a cancer patient was infinitely more difficult for me than actually being the patient myself. Seeing what cancer did to my sister and mother-in-law hurt me in ways my own cancer couldn't begin to. I would gladly take on every illness of those I love just to keep them from having to go through it.<br />
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Which brings up another issue. My darling hubby has been diagnosed with type II diabetes. I have suspected it for a while and could kick myself for not forcing him to get tested sooner. It took his eyesight going haywire for him to finally admit something was wrong. Sure enough, his A1C test revealed that, at least for the past few months, his blood glucose levels have been hovering somewhere around 300! No wonder his eyesight went crazy. Funny thing is, it actually got better. A lot better. He's been on diabetes medication for about a month now and his eyesight is returning to normal, though it is still not back to where it was before.<br />
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He's a good patient, once he's actually convinced that there's a problem. He watches what he eats and was testing all the time until he got a handle on how certain foods effect his levels. I don't know if he's where he ultimately needs to be with his medication dosage, but he's come a long way from the high 200s and low 300s he was testing at in the beginning.<br />
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Ultimately, I see this as just another thing to be thankful for. Because God saw fit to give him a symptom he couldn't ignore. Because he's now being treated and is losing weight to boot. (Now, if I could just do the same. [sigh]) I'm almost finished with my treatment, he's easing into a new job, and life is incredibly good. I wake up every day thinking about how blessed we are.<br />
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So, I suggest that anyone out there who is struggling to find the good in their cancer battle might want to simply be thankful that it is them in the battle instead of their spouse, parents, siblings, or children. That's what I am most thankful for.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-65156647990956016002011-09-06T19:24:00.000-05:002011-09-06T19:24:44.322-05:00Squirrel!We don't have children. This has not kept us from watching and enjoying several "children's" movies, however. These days studios that have traditionally always produced movies strictly for children are injecting expressions and moments into their children's films that are intended to be picked up by more mature audience members. They decided to do this so that the parents who are by necessity watching these movies with their children - hopefully in the theater when they are first released - will not be bored out of their minds. The problem is that sometimes, these "adult moments" are just a bit too overt. At least, I feel that way. There have been a few times that we were watching something obviously targeted to children that had a scene that was just too suggestive for my comfort. If I had children, I would be disturbed to have them watching it. I don't know what would be worse, having them understand some of the things that are meant to "go over their heads" or having them start asking, "What does that mean, Mommy?"<br />
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Anyway, despite the fact that we don't have kids, we have seen and in fact own quite a few movies that were made for kids. Hubby and I still quote lines from "Finding Nemo." That movie was so cute. And many of the other movies like it were funny and cute, too. But this post is about a different Disney/Pixar movie. "Up!" came out in 2009 and like so many of the Disney-Pixar movies that have come before it, was a hit. And also like all it's Pixar predecessors, "Up!" was filled with quotable moments. One quote from this movie stands out far and above all the others, however. If you haven't seen the movie, I highly recommend it. Just as a reminder, here is the quote I'm referring to. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxcv17aNc0xuwNCFVCtvENrFjjIqr6K3X7WnALz0E2TNVWxRH7RY8Q7QJltIgtpKHw1fHewFtLiNpFsQnIZRQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>As one commenter on another site said, "Who could have guessed that one word could be so epic?" And epic it is. Since the time we saw this movie, shouts of "squirrel!" have been a common part of our family vocabulary. It's become a bit of a game to see who can shout it first when we see a squirrel while driving down the road - or anywhere else for that matter. But while the scenes and the basis of the quote are obviously founded in the reality that most dogs lose all thought of whatever they were doing when a squirrel catches their eye. the meaning goes far beyond this simple truth. And so "squirrel!" has come to mean more than the literal appearance of the furry little critters known for hoarding nuts. "Squirrel!" is a ubiquitous term referring to any instance where our train of thought or focus is inexplicably broken or snatched away by some transitory thought or event. <br />
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My husband has even taken to using the term "squirrelled" to refer to these moments. IE, "I was going into the bedroom but then I squirrelled and forgot what I was doing." He has especially used the reference in recent weeks because of an event that could have no other - or better - explanation than "squirrel!" <br />
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A few weeks ago, he drove my car to work because his truck had been acting funny the day before. He always calls me when he gets to work, to let me know he got there safely. This day was no different. I answered the phone. He said, "I'm here...... I wrecked your car." You'd have to know my husband to imagine how casually he said this. He has a devastating sense of sarcasm, which he thankfully reins in with me, but he's also capable of being incredibly deadpan sometimes so that it's often difficult to tell when he's being serious and when he's being sarcastic or joking. Even after 24 years together, I sometimes still have trouble telling when he's being serious. So for a moment I thought, "He's kidding." I think I probably said as much. Then he launched into his explanation of what had happened. I won't go into it because it was a rambling and breathless account that made little to no sense at the time. He forgets, sometimes, that I don't know everything he knows. Meaning he sometimes talks about situations or people or things, especially from his work, like I actually have personal knowledge of them. Which I don't. Not most of them, anyway. This event was no different. He was talking about a light and didn't seem to hear me when I asked him, "what light?" Then he mentioned that he looked down at the radio to turn it down and that's when it happened. He hit the cement base for a lamp post in the parking lot. The lamp post itself was apparently already gone, thanks to a semi truck at some point in the past. He hit this thing with the right front of my car and literally tore the bumper off. He made quite an issue of not understanding how it could have done so much damage considering how slow he was going and where he hit. <br />
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The long and short of it is, he was distracted first by this light on the building - which I finally later managed to get him to explain was in fact a light he was supposed to make sure was either turned off or on (still not clear on that part). He was trying to figure out if it was on or not. Then he jumped from that to the radio as he thought to turn it down so that he could call me to let me know he was there. And somewhere amid all that, he collided with the lamp post base. Later, he summed it up very succinctly by saying he "squirrelled." Since then, the term has become even more prevalent in our conversation. (My car has been fixed now, and looks better than it has in years. A blessing for sure.)<br />
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I've seen tee shirts that deal with this phenomena of sudden loss of focus by poking fun at how easily we are sometimes distracted by something "shiny."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAezAuX3wJU8w68WLXh6U-9kTZfT24iWFxnigyXXZOyclX-SjO0ssG8RumTPJx9t9U6UaFE4vsuDme3tzR6XGhVBWTvSMacnll2rWNkuZfDjIEFAxWJ_l6xhszQaGGcvv3uh9VANuRxAc/s1600/shiny.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAezAuX3wJU8w68WLXh6U-9kTZfT24iWFxnigyXXZOyclX-SjO0ssG8RumTPJx9t9U6UaFE4vsuDme3tzR6XGhVBWTvSMacnll2rWNkuZfDjIEFAxWJ_l6xhszQaGGcvv3uh9VANuRxAc/s640/shiny.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
And I own a shirt that pokes fun at the loss of focus associated with chemotherapy, called "Chemonesia" by the very creative designer of the shirt. Having experienced this firsthand, I can attest to how difficult it was to keep my train of thought, even while speaking. There were times that I would literally lose what I was saying in the middle of saying it. Thankfully, that seems to have stopped along with the chemo. <br />
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The point is, we are prone to being easily distracted, especially by fleeting thoughts and objects that flash like a mirror in the sun so that they immediately snag our attention. (This post is itself a testament to my own issues with difficulty maintaining my focus. I started it two days ago!)<br />
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Generally, these little distractions that pop up are harmless. They come and go, catching our focus for a moment or two, then we go right on with whatever we were doing. (Just like the dogs from "Up!") But sometimes, those distractions rob us of something important. They can interrupt our peace, intrude upon on times of prayer and meditation on the Word, and disrupt our thoughts when we're on the verge of gaining enlightenment. I've had this happen to me. I'll be reading my Bible, talking to the Lord, or listening to a sermon that's stomping all over my toes and suddenly, "squirrel!" Something completely random will pop into my head, or some flicker of movement or flash of light will jerk my attention away. Sometimes I can shake it off and get right back to where I was. But sometimes whatever I was on the verge of grasping is simply lost. The question arises, is this a tactic of the devil or a failing within myself?<br />
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I'm not a proponent of blaming everything on Satan. He's out there and he certainly does his best to get in our way whenever he can. But doesn't the Bible teach us that we are the ones with the power? That we can drive him away with the mere mention of the name of Christ? That if we make the effort to resist him, he will flee from us? Then why is it that we so often try to blame him for the problems in our spiritual lives?<br />
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I think that perhaps we are the ones failing to resist his lures. We let our minds wander when we should have them wholly focused on God. We place less importance upon our devotion and worship than upon the fleeting things of this life. We let thoughts about spouses, children, work, and countless other things, both large and small, intrude upon the time we ought to be wholly devoting to God.<br />
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Fortunately for us, God is utterly faithful. He tolerates our finite little minds wandering all over the place while He is trying to talk to us. He gently draws our attention back to Him when we've let it drift off to something else. He waits patiently for us to chase the squirrels that catch our eyes, and remains right there for us to come back to once we're finished with the chase. God's amazing, like that. I only wish I could do a better job of ignoring the squirrels. Because I hate thinking that I might miss out on something magnificent that God is trying to reveal to me simply because I couldn't stop myself from thinking about the laundry that I need to do or the grocery list or something else equally unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps it is like any other skill. Focus needs to be exercised and practiced to be strong. And that's where I fail so often. I don't practice like I should. I don't devote enough time to focus on the things of God. If I did, maybe the squirrels would be easier to ignore.<br />
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Right now, I'm trying desperately to ignore the intrusion of a desire to go scrounge up something to eat. [sigh] I'm hungry and that's just not easy to ignore. Nor is my dog, who is apparently needing to go out. (He doesn't bark or whine at me. He just won't sit or lay still for any length of time. And when he really gets desperate, he chomps his teeth at me.) Then there's the washing machine that dinged a while ago, letting me know I need to toss the sheets into the dryer if I want to sleep in my bed tonight. Oh, and there's the reminder I have programmed into my iPad that nags me until I finally get up and go change the bag in my litter robot. (Have I posted about this thing? It's amazing. Only has to be emptied every several days and by empty I mean take out the sack that collects the "waste" and put in a new bag. Takes all of two minutes. Thank You, Lord, for technological advances!) [sigh, again] My stomach is rumbling. Doggone it!<br />
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Oh, well. Might as well get up and deal with all the distractions. Then maybe I'll be able to focus on reading my Bible without - squirrel!winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-84184893661609094422011-08-01T11:23:00.000-05:002011-08-01T11:23:22.650-05:00It's Baaack... (Not the cancer!)You know, I've gotten a lot of comments since my diagnosis about how wonderful my attitude was. Several folks along the way have commented on how awesome it was that I was not only able to maintain my sense of humor, but to also use it frequently in relation to the many varied issues that come up with cancer treatment. (I make no claims to be a comedian, but I have seen quite a few people crack up at my response to some of the things that have come along.) Apparently, one of my most popular sentiments relating to cancer is a t-shirt I designed on Zazzle that says, "<a href="http://www.zazzle.com/i_beat_cancer_and_all_i_got_was_tshirt-235365609114244624">I beat cancer and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!</a>" "<a href="http://www.zazzle.com/one_more_mri_and_ill_stick_to_the_fridge_tshirt-235193094240642306">One more MRI and I'll stick to the fridge!</a>" has also been popular. Then, of course, there was the infamous "lint roller" trick to dealing with those last stubborn head hairs that just didn't want to let go. I can't take credit for the original idea. It was actually a trick someone on the Cancer Survivors Network mentioned. Still, if using a sticky tape lint roller on one's head isn't utterly absurd, then I just don't know what is.<br />
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Anyway, a lot of people seemed to be impressed by my attitude. Frankly, it came solely from my utter trust that God was in control. I mean, what's the point in getting all worked up over something that we cannot do anything about? It's cancer. Throwing a temper tantrum won't do a single thing to help it. Being furious that it came knocking at your door won't do anything but make you and everyone around you miserable. Cancer (along with countless other illnesses and troublesome issues that come up in our daily lives) is no one's "fault." Being mad about it just makes it harder to deal with. Plus, if you believe much of the current data, a good, "positive" attitude actually helps us heal faster. My point? It wasn't really so much me having a positive attitude as it was me flat out trusting God.<br />
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I should interject here that my faith and trust did not just wipe out all my natural concern about the situation and about what the future holds. I mean, I'm human. The moment my Dr. got that frown on her face while doing my breast exam and started focusing on that one spot sent a shock wave through me that I will never forget. We all dread hearing that word. CANCER. It's one of the major health terrors of the past several generations. But, I can honestly say I never panicked. I can't ever really remember even "breaking down." There were a few (and I stress <i>few</i>) tears, just moments when the enormity of the situation kind of overwhelmed me. Ultimately though, I just sat back and let God lead the journey. I was on the path and there was no point trying to find a shortcut, a trail off the the path, or balking like a stubborn donkey and forcing God to drag me forward. It simply was what it was and forward was the only way through it.<br />
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Yikes! This is not where I planned to go with this post! Funny how that happens.<br />
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I did my best to find the humor in all the absurd situations a cancer patient can find themselves in. It is my nature to seek out humor and to use it to help me cope with difficult situations. I just can't help myself. Then again, I can't help but notice that God has seen fit to place me into a LOT of situations throughout my life that, even if they weren't at all funny at the time, would wind up being some of the most hilarious moments of my life when I look back.<br />
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Case in point: And I mention this because it just came up a few days ago in response to something posted on Facebook by one of my favorite comedians, <a href="http://www.chonda.org/">Chonda Pierce</a>. Here's what she posted:<br />
<blockquote><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Thank you for all the prayers for David. He is healing nicely....the Dr said one half inch further and he would have lost his leg. Here's the call I will never forget, "Hi Hon, I was out in the boat with my chainsaw and had a pretty bad accident." He is now grounded from using power tools for the rest of his life!!</span></span></h6></blockquote>Yeah, I have absolutely NO idea what her husband was doing on a boat with a chainsaw. I mean, try as I might, I simply cannot come up with a reasonable scenario where this would make any kind of sense. But then, as I replied to her, I also have a husband who has not been gifted with what I consider to be a "normal" measure of common sense. While my darling husband has never had any serious mishaps with power tools, he does have a rather dubious history with fire. I should point out that he grew up in a home with a wood stove. He ought to be more than capable of grasping not only how one works, but the utter lunacy of, say, throwing kerosene into one that is already lit!<br />
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Have I mentioned that my husband is a genius? Literally. He was tested in school. He has an understanding of and appreciation for mathematics and physics that I will never, ever be able to match. And I'm no slouch in the intelligence department, either. Yet, though he is perfectly capable of grasping the finer points of the inner workings of space and time and things like singularities and string theory, he cannot seem to wrap his brain around the fact that one does not need highly flammable fluids like kerosene, gas, or lighter fluid to start a fire.<br />
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So, many years ago, (before I'd fully grasped his utter incapability when it came to fire) we were living in a home we rented. We had bought a wood stove from his parents when they decided to switch from wood to oil heat. Our rental home had a large living room and large kitchen that shared a good sized open doorway. There was a location just inside the kitchen area that was meant to hold a wood stove. We did use kerosene heaters to heat the house when it wasn't too cold, but once winter set in fully, we switched to the wood.<br />
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Anyone who's ever had a wood stove will be aware that they generally have two settings. Hotter than lava and off. We literally had times when that thing would be going that we'd open the front door - in the dead of an Indiana winter - to try to cool the house off a bit. (I'm smiling now as I look back on this. We laugh all the time about the joys of having a wood stove. Despite the sometimes tedious difficulty of regulating the temperature, there is just nothing quite as warm and comfortable as wood heat.)<br />
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I did not grow up with a wood stove, per se. We did have a fireplace, however, and somewhere along the way my brilliant mother decided to purchase an insert for it. This was, essentially, a wood stove that was designed to fit into the space of the fireplace. It was sealed up like a wood stove, meaning it had gaskets around the doors and a damper and various air vents to regulate the air flow and thus the rate of burn. It also had a nifty blower system that forced the hot air from the cavity around the insert out into the room. Now we lived in Mississippi, not exactly known for it's frigid winters, but that wood stove saved my parents a lot of money on the utility bill in the winter. And it was how and where I learned how to build a fire using novel things like newspaper and kindling. (No kerosene or gas.) The wood stove my husband and I had was merely a significantly larger version of that fireplace insert. I started it regularly with no difficulty at all. <br />
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Another feature of wood stoves is that, so long as they are sealed up nicely, you can bank them at night when you go to bed and there will still be plenty of coals waiting for you the next morning. Generally, all you have to do is rake those coals a bit to get them a little air, then toss some smaller logs on them so that it starts burning actively again, then you can fill that puppy up with some big hunks of wood to keep it going for hours. This is all contingent upon making sure there's plenty of wood in the stove the night before, however, and on making sure you almost completely close all the vents so that it doesn't get too much air and burn too fast. Make that mistake and you wake up to a cold stove that has to be completely re-lit. Apparently, that's what happened one cold morning.<br />
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We had a water bed at the time. We were too cheap to buy one of those fancy dresser drawer stands for it, so had the base that consisted of nothing more than a simple frame to support the bed. This meant the bed was fairly low to the floor. Which was fine. We were both a lot younger then and had no trouble getting in or out of the thing. I shudder to think what that would be like these days! So, Hubby gets up before me. I don't even remember him getting out of bed. My first memory that morning was coming slowly awake and frowning as an odd smell hit my nose. While I was sniffing, trying to figure out what it was, I heard his voice right beside my head. He was calling my name in a soft voice, gently waking me. I opened my eyes to find him kneeling beside the bed, his face mere inches from mine. His first words when my eyes opened? "Honey, do I still have any eyebrows?"<br />
<br />
Yeah, that was right about the time that my sleepy brain kicked into gear and figured out what that smell was. Burnt hair. (You need to realize that my husband is one of those truly hairy men. He had a full beard in something like eighth grade and has only shaved that beard off completely like once in the more than 2 decades that we've known each other.) Needless to say, his words brought me fully awake. He did still have eyebrows, though all his facial hair was a bit singed. It seems that he'd gotten up to find the stove too cold to fire up by just tossing wood into it. So, in his profoundly brilliant and logical mind, he came up with the notion of pouring kerosene on the wood before putting it into the stove to light. It lit just fine, then promptly went right back out as soon as all the kerosene burned off the surface of the wood. Apparently, his next logical leap was to determine that it must have been getting too much air, making it burn too fast. If he could just repeat the procedure with the door shut, then it would burn slower and thus actually catch the wood on fire. The problem, of course, was how to actually start the fire with the door closed. Clearly this is a logistical problem. So he put some kerosene into a mason jar he'd taken from the kitchen. He poured some of it over the wood INSIDE the stove, put a bit more kerosene in the jar, then got himself ready. He first tossed a match into the stove, which lit the kerosene. Then he took the jar of kerosene and flung its contents into the stove with the intention of slamming the door closed right behind it.<br />
<br />
I wish I could convey my expression via these typewritten words. This all happened somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty years ago and I am still torn between the desire to laugh myself senseless and to smack him with the nearest heavy object. Needless to say, his plan did not work. Though he has a complete understanding of the laws of thermodynamics, he was incapable of applying those in any practical way, it seems. Because the result of his "plan" was a massive fireball that came shooting out the door he was, of course, kneeling right in front of while trying to slam it shut. He said he was quite sure it shot well into the living room. Fortunately the only flammable thing in its path was him. (Excuse me for a moment while I pause to laugh again.)<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm back. He was unharmed by this stunt. His hair, while singed, was not truly burned and returned to normal quite quickly. I did, however, have to get up and start the stove, since all his kerosene had burned off again and there was still no actual fire in the stove. This was the first moment I realized that fire and my genius husband did not mix. There have been other incidents through the years. The most serious being the "brush fire" he started on a windy day on the hillside down below our barn, in a place where our water hose would not reach. I wanted to call the fire department right off the bat but he insisted he had it under control. The milk jug he was running back and forth between the fire and the end of the water hose would work just fine. (Head shaking at the memory.) I watched him for a few minutes, then decided when the fire hit the first cedar tree and sent flames forty or so feet into the hair that it was time to dial 911. I was halfway to the house when I heard him yell for me to call the fire department. They came and put it out pretty quickly, before it could reach our house and just about the same time that it jumped the road below us and tried to spread into the valley. (Funny as this story is to look back on, it wasn't at all funny at the time and would not have been even remotely amusing if it had indeed spread into the valley below our home. People live there. Lives could have been lost and property certainly would have been because there are no such things as fire hydrants out here. They had to use a tanker truck. They would have had nowhere near enough water to douse a fire that big. Thank You, Lord, for sparing us all that disaster!)<br />
<br />
My beloved husband, whom I adore with all my heart, put the blame for that fire on me! He and his brother-in-law, who'd taken part in the starting of the blaze, stood there with the firemen after they'd put it out and explained how they'd told me and his sister that it was too windy to start a fire but that we'd insisted. He was being facetious, but my husband's sarcasm is often difficult for others to grasp. I have always doubted that the firemen realized he was making a joke. Anyway, for a few years after that, we were recognized around town as "the people who'd had the fire on the ridge." Literally, we would walk into the local grocery store and while checking out, the cashier would say, "Oh, you're the people who had that fire out on the ridge." Ah, life in a small town.<br />
<br />
Suffice it to say, that was the day we instigated new rules in our family. Hubby is no longer allowed to start any fires unless he's under my direct supervision. He has been flatly forbidden from ever, under any circumstances, using flammable liquids like gas, kerosene, or lighter fluid to start any fires. There have been a few instances, however, when he has ignored these rules. Or at the very least, skirted them. This series of shots was taken last year on an outing to a state park.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdXg-dBlV2rY9xyDYaiLfLOe5y17LwcuqvLCthmwYDa42EK3jQgkW3rnUapAGVkI2lktobST8U24puL_ajJ3xi24Brw22dBXLzli_36YGCgG17w1Sm7mGUFVSRsE-JMmva_feBniWP-g/s1600/Mark+and+the+grill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdXg-dBlV2rY9xyDYaiLfLOe5y17LwcuqvLCthmwYDa42EK3jQgkW3rnUapAGVkI2lktobST8U24puL_ajJ3xi24Brw22dBXLzli_36YGCgG17w1Sm7mGUFVSRsE-JMmva_feBniWP-g/s640/Mark+and+the+grill.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>We had the dogs with us, so I did not realize what he was doing because I was taking pictures of them. Then I turned around and the first image is what I saw. The charcoal had already been lit, but wasn't going fast enough for him. Of course I felt I ought to snap a picture of it, seeing as it might be the last good shot I would get of my husband. I was yelling at him to put the lighter fluid down as I took the shot, though. You can see in the second shot that he wisely backed away from the conflagration, ever mindful of the singed facial hair of his past. And that look on his face in the last shot is his typical reaction to being caught doing something he knows very well that he should not be doing. Even as I was shooting the pictures, I was reminding him of his history with fire. God bless him, he just doesn't ever learn.<br />
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So, maybe a good part of my sense of humor is a result of my husband's sense of humor. We do laugh at and with each other quite a bit. I mean, it is a common occurrence for us to laugh so hard we get tears in our eyes. Often those laughs are due to something absurd one of us has done or said. Long story short: God blessed us by giving us both senses of humor that the other appreciates for the most part. I do so wish God would just see fit to gift my husband with a bit of wisdom when it comes to fire, though. Barring that, I simply pray that God will continue to protect him from his own idiocy. Lord knows I love that man to death.<br />
<br />
Sigh. (Now I'm feeling all sappy and love struck.) There's a reason or the wild swings in emotion, though.<br />
<br />
Getting chemotherapy has a lot of effects on the body. One of the major ones for a woman is that it sends us into medically induced menopause. That means we get all the joys of hot flashes and such for the duration of treatment. Those hot flashes were brutal. I lost track of how many times I literally thought I was going to up and melt. But, hey, it came with some up sides, too. Primarily, no menstrual cycles.<br />
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Not to get too graphic, but my menstrual cycles have never been what I'd call normal. They started kinda late and hit with a vengeance that literally had me wishing I would just die. I can remember being in what I can only describe as agony. Laying in the middle of my bed in a fetal position, praying it would just stop. I remember being at school once when I was in so much pain that any touch on my body, even on my arm, hurt. My mother, whom I flat out adored and respected, did not grasp just how bad it was. She was of the "if you aren't running a fever and/or throwing up, you aren't sick" mindset and so I went to school in spite of the pain. You've got to understand that this was before the days of the internet where we could research something on a whim. And frankly, she was from the country and the notion was that women have been having menstrual cycles since the dawn of time and they got through it just fine. I do remember more than one person making the joke that if I thought menstrual cramps were bad, then I'd never make it through child birth.<br />
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All joking aside, I quite literally cannot imagine labor pains being much worse. I don't blame my mother for not taking it seriously. I don't remember how seriously I complained about it. I know for a fact that it wasn't something I'd ever mentioned to a doctor. I just remember that it was a nightmare. An unpredictable nightmare, since it didn't come on any sort of schedule or remotely reliable cycle. Anyway, I was 18 when I started taking birth control pills. I had no idea at that time that the pills could and would impact my periods. I was beyond pleasantly surprised when I found that they not only became regular, but that the pain not only became easily manageable, but often didn't manifest at all. It was years later that I learned, either from a doctor or from my own research on the internet that the hormones in birth control pills were designed to regulate the hormones within our bodies that trigger menstrual cycles. Not only that, but the pills were often prescribed specifically to help women with cycles like mine. Who knew?<br />
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So I stayed on the pill continuously from the time I was 18 until last year when I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 39. It was last fall when my oncologist told me I had to not only stop taking the pill but that I would never be able to take it again. I don't mind telling you that I hated hearing that. But, the consequences of that fact weren't of immediate concern. The chemo brought on temporary menopause, which in turn meant no periods. For months now, when doctors asked me when I had my last period, I've been telling them October of 2010.<br />
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I saw my OB/GYN in June and we talked about when and if my periods would come back. I was very encouraged when she told me that it could easily be months or even years. Possibly maybe never. I was desperately hoping it would be never. Because without the pill, I feared I would be facing the agony I remembered from my teen years. She said that it wouldn't necessarily be so. But even if it was, there were things besides hormones like the pill that we could do. Still, I really hoped it wouldn't be an issue.<br />
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Then, day before yesterday, I got the gift of my period for the first time in 9 months. In all seriousness, it scares me more than the cancer did. I know that sounds insane, but it's the truth. I just cannot stress how horrible my periods were before I started taking the pill. And it's not like I feel comfortable telling everyone who asks how I'm doing that I'm fine, except for the cramps. LOL<br />
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I got up and went to church yesterday morning, but then came home after Sunday school because I could feel the pain getting worse in spite of the ibuprofen I'd started taking the day before. It didn't get too bad. As I told my hubby when he asked me how I was feeling that evening, "I'm not wishing I was dead, yet." So that's something to be grateful for. They're worse, today, though. Still nothing like what I remember, but I can't help worrying that they'll get there eventually. If not this month, then the next time, or the time after that. I did research about it yesterday when I got home from church and learned that doctors recommend taking ibuprofen or Aleve or the like before the pain starts and on a regular schedule for a few days whether there's real pain or not. I've been doing that since Saturday afternoon.<br />
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It's crazy to be more afraid of menstrual cramps than cancer. It's crazy for any child of God to be afraid of anything. But somewhere deep inside me there is a teenage girl who remembers being curled up on her bed, crying and praying for the pain to stop. Lord, help me, I don't know if I can take it again. So, while I would never realistically wish to go through chemo again, I do miss the benefit I got of not having to worry about a monthly agony. <br />
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In the long run, my menstrual cycle is no different than the cancer. It's beyond my control. I can't stop it or fix it or wish it away. If the pain gets just as bad or even worse than what I remember, there's not one thing I can do to change it. I'll seek a doctor's help if that turns out to be the case, but it will be up to God alone whether that doctor's suggestions have any impact. The thing about the cancer is, it didn't really hurt. Oh, there was pain here and there, days of discomfort, difficulties like hair loss and nausea and that nasty taste in my mouth. There was the exhaustion and the hot flashes, the difficulty concentrating. But somehow, it never truly scared me. Maybe because I saw it all as temporary. It would come and it would go. The treatment would work or it wouldn't. Either way, I wasn't in true pain. This, however, is different. I not only hurt, I potentially might hurt A LOT. And I could very well be facing years of hurting badly on a monthly basis.<br />
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Funny how some things scare us more than others. (There's my utterly irrational fear of spiders as a prime example, but we'll just leave that for another day.) While I am a bit of whiner, and I certainly do not enjoy pain, I do in reality have a fairly high tolerance for it. Or perhaps it's better described as a resignation to enduring it when there's simply no other choice. Still, I am praying for God's mercy and intervention in this situation. If I'm on the cusp or revisiting the terrible pain of my adolescence, then I pray God will help me endure it with grace. Lord knows I'll need Him. I need Him every moment of every day.<br />
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And now, I'm going to go lay down for a little while. Maybe I'll drag out the heating pad, since the stuff I read yesterday said it can help. The ibuprofen isn't working as well today. But laying down will give me a chance to get ahead on my bible reading. (I'm still doing the 90 days through the bible thing.) I have been not only staying caught up on my reading, but I frequently read ahead, sometimes even a full day ahead. It just gets kind of hard to stop right in the middle of the story, even when I know how the story's going to end. :)<br />
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See, there's always an upside. Always something positive to be found if we will just look hard enough!winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-4754710090549404372011-07-22T19:31:00.000-05:002011-07-22T19:31:29.531-05:00Day Two...<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Today's reading: Job chapters 6-20</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jlHFQWsh-Af4WnwgAfjtfL_gfc1_FuQ1grKaMo0wyOhkdyvDFufRpZF_QEGGXxLyG14h67fmSGyEIQWh2bEv8qwVzfgT9skKuNfS9lNDcLYo3sPrkcLQpAr6JOxH2v6rylE8XFzXRrw/s1600/Bible+and+Swirls+Page+Divider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jlHFQWsh-Af4WnwgAfjtfL_gfc1_FuQ1grKaMo0wyOhkdyvDFufRpZF_QEGGXxLyG14h67fmSGyEIQWh2bEv8qwVzfgT9skKuNfS9lNDcLYo3sPrkcLQpAr6JOxH2v6rylE8XFzXRrw/s320/Bible+and+Swirls+Page+Divider.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Alright, I'm in the middle of today's reading and feeling the need to comment on thoughts that are coming to me as I go. I'm afraid that if I wait until I'm finished, I won't remember everything. Frankly, I have trouble remembering what comes to mind long enough for me to put down my Bible and type it up here. LOL Anyway...<br />
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Job's getting just a little bit whinny. Then again, with all the things his "friends" are saying to him, who can blame him? I can't help but notice, though, that Job is ascribing attributes to God that are less about Who God is than about how hopeless Job is feeling. For instance:<br />
<i>When disaster brings sudden death, he mocks at the calamity of the innocent. The earth is given into the hand of the wicked; he covers the faces of its judges—if it is not he, who then is it? </i>Job 9:23-24<br />
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Sound familiar? How many times have you heard people in grief "blame" God for the failings of this fallen world? After 9/11, how many people accused God of not caring, of "allowing" it to happen when He could have stopped it? When we're facing tragedies that are so great they overwhelm us, we often want someone to blame and the larger the scope of the tragedy, the higher up the ladder we go when looking for a culprit. In mind-boggling tragedies like 9/11, or hurricane Katrina, or the earthquake and tsunami that devastated Japan, we can't seem to help looking to God and questioning why He would let so many suffer and die. But we need to remember that God isn't sitting up there plotting ways to cause us pain. Tragedies happen because this world is fallen. Sin exists and pain and suffering and grief are direct results of that fact. All tragedies are not the result of personal sin, but merely a byproduct of the fallen state of this world. God cannot be blamed for that.<br />
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Here's another verse that jumped out at me.<i>For he is not a man, as I am, that I might answer him, that we should come to trial together.<sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-en-ESV-13085"></sup> There is no<sup class="footnote" value="[<a href="#fen-KJV-en-ESV-13085d" title="See footnote d">d</a>]"></sup> arbiter between us, who might lay his hand on us both.</i> Job 9:32-33<br />
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The KJV uses the word, "daysman" for arbiter. Another translation I read uses mediator. Immediately the first thought that popped into my head was 1 Timothy 2:5: <i>For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus,</i><br />
Job's complaining that there is no mediator to stand between him and God and reconcile whatever problem God has with him. Wow. Praise God that we have a Mediator, that Jesus Christ makes intercession for us with God!<br />
<i> </i><br />
You just have to love Zophar the Naamathite. He is the very picture of a good Christian today! What's his response to Job's troubles and grief and hopelessness?<br />
<i>For you say, 'My doctrine is pure, and I am clean in God’s<sup class="footnote" value="[<a href="#fen-KJV-en-ESV-13113a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]"></sup> eyes.' <sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-en-ESV-13114"></sup>But oh, that God would speak and open his lips to you, <sup class="versenum" id="en-KJV-en-ESV-13115"></sup>and that he would tell you the secrets of wisdom! For he is manifold in understanding. Know then that God exacts of you less than your guilt deserves.</i> Job 11:4-6<br />
Boy, if that doesn't sound like a "good" Christian, I don't know what does. You know, obviously Job <i>deserved</i> what he was getting. In fact, ol' Zophar is quick to let Job know that he undoubtedly deserved a lot worse than what he was getting! <br />
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How many times have you found yourself sitting in judgment over someone else's misfortune? Not that God doesn't punish. He most certainly does. He corrects His children when they need it. But I find myself consistently amazed by how many Christians claim to know the mind and purpose of God. They look at tragedy and declare, like Zophar, that it must be "deserved" or it wouldn't be happening. Sticking with my earlier theme of major disasters, I know plenty of people who said 9/11, Katrina, and even the earthquake and tsunami in Japan were God's judgment on those affected. I saw some make the same claim about the tornado that ripped through the heart of Joplin, Missouri.<br />
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Amazing how many Christians seem to have a direct line into the heart and mind of God. They know these tragic events were His judgment, not merely evidence of the fallen state of this universe. Same thing with disease. I've lost count of how many times I've heard a fellow Christian say, usually with more than a hint of haughtiness, that the reason someone is sick is because they just weren't living their life right before God.<br />
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My point here isn't that global, national, local or personal tragedies are never God's judgment. Sodom and Gomorrah were wiped of the face of the planet in spectacular fashion as a direct warning to the fact that God can, will, and does exact judgement upon people and places that deliberately turn their backs on Him. Yet, even in that instance, God said that He would have spared the cities if there had been just 10 righteous men left within them. It speaks volumes that even that small number could not be found. But I have to ask, do you seriously believe that of all the people who died, or who lost loved ones or their homes in tragedies like 9/11 or Katrina or Japan or Joplin, not even 10 of them could be called righteous in God's eyes. Or maybe we're just assuming that 10 was an arbitrary number and God really wouldn't have stood by it? Or maybe it's changed somewhere along the way? Or just maybe, like what Job is going through, it is meant as a test for the righteous, an opportunity for them to bring glory and honor to God by remaining true to Him in the midst of their tragedy.<br />
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In short, I can't help but feel that while the Bible tells us that we will judge all things, it also warns us not to be judgmental of others. It warns us to have compassion on those who are suffering. And if there's one thing I think gets in the way of a vast number of Christians both growing in the Lord and being effective in serving Him, as well as in witnessing to others about Him, it's pride and arrogance. Every single time a Christian points a finger at those suffering in some tragedy and says, "yep, that's God's judgment right there," it hardens one more heart against God. It leads one more person to say, "If that's what it means to be a Christian, then I don't want any part of that 'Holier than thou' attitude." We really need to be careful how we not only treat others, but how we speak to and about them. The Bible says very plainly that we are recognized as Christians by our love; love for each other, and love for all men. First: Love God. Second: Love others as you love yourself. It's very simple. Yet we seem to have a lot of trouble being as kind-hearted, forgiving, encouraging, and loving to others as we are with ourselves. That's a real shame.<br />
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On a somewhat lighter note, I absolutely adore Job's sarcasm in Job 12:2-3: <i>No doubt but ye are the people, and wisdom shall die with you. But I have understanding as well as you; I am not inferior to you: yea, who knoweth not such things as these?</i><br />
Basically, "well aren't you just a pack of know-it-alls? I guess when you die, all wisdom will die with you! Well, I know a few things, too - and you're no better than I am! Who doesn't know the things you've been saying?" Priceless. I love that the Bible isn't just staid words, but that it's alive with feeling and emotion, just like we are.<br />
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The rest of today's reading is more tit for tat between Job and his 3 "friends," Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. I couldn't help but notice that keep calling each other windbags. Funny how typical that is. One uses an insult and their opponent promptly turns it around and uses it on them in return. Don't we all do the same thing when we let our tongues get away from us?<br />
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This trio of men keep talking about how the wicked will fall, how they will be judged by God, implying not so subtly that Job is being judged and must therefore be wicked. And poor Job just keeps on asserting his innocence and asking them why they're so determined to tear him down even further when he's already at rock bottom. He wants to know why they aren't there to lift him up, to encourage him, to offer their support as he wades through this nightmare of grief.<br />
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One thing I started wondering was what Job would have done if they hadn't shown up, though. He starts off feeling pretty doggone sorry for himself. That's still there and it's completely understandable given his circumstances. But he's talking about how much he just wants to die, how God's out to get him for no reason at all and he'd have been better of if he'd died in his mother's womb. As a person who's battled clinical depression my entire adult life, I can certainly sympathize with his feelings. I've been there myself. And while Job's pals aren't doing anything at all to support him, they are making him focus a little less on feeling sorry for himself.<br />
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Job winds up chapter 19 with this: (verse 25) <i>For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. </i><br />
And verses 28-29:<i> If you say, 'How we will pursue him!' and, 'The root of the matter is found in him,' be afraid of the sword, for wrath brings the punishment of the sword, that you may know there is a judgment.</i><br />
An indictment against them for blaming Job for all the troubles that had befallen him and a warning that they are the ones who ought to be worried about being judged for their self-righteous attitudes.<br />
<i> </i><br />
I guess my biggest take away from these chapters is a reminder to stay humble when faced with the tragedy or troubles of others. While it is our job to represent God, to spread His Word and to lead others to His salvation, it would benefit us all to remember that, though not a Biblical verse, this old adage is still very true and pertinent: You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. If we want to draw others to God, to be the kinds of Christians that make non-believers stand up and say, "I want what they've got," we have to be loving people. Not condoners of sin, or so afraid of being disliked or misunderstood that we refuse to confront sin no matter how heinous it might be, but people who are wise enough to seek God's guidance in <u>every</u> word we speak. We can confront sin without being confrontational. We just have to be willing to swallow our personal pride and our need to "one-up" whomever we are confronting, and let God guide us in how we speak and act. Because it isn't our actions or words that will lead anyone to Christ, it is His love shining through us that will draw them in.<br />
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Lord, please help me to bind my wayward tongue, to rein it in when it would speak rashly or with anything less than Your great love. Remind me to be humble, to seek Your will and Your guidance before jumping into any conversation, especially when it involves another person's grief or pain. Remind me that no matter how long I have known You or served You, I do not know Your holy mind or the breadth or scope of Your great plan for anyone's life, including my own. Forgive me for being arrogant and thinking that I can "shame" others into being who and what I believe they ought to be. Please let me be a beacon for the immeasurable depth of Your love, demonstrated by the death of Christ on the cross for all mankind. Amen.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-21130893885489512762011-07-21T18:58:00.000-05:002011-07-21T18:58:31.958-05:00Day One...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44gdSb5g0kx8vQzURpy6LlN523Xfk0jVTo8Z9TKxsefVev1LFrhA5U5KTT024abZE0m7hawRvN_KDfTFF50URnXtMdNqOvjmr2rEpg0hMBd09CpexqVm0-NFzdM6fQEf2g844IQW8uCw/s1600/Bible+and+Swirls+Page+Divider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44gdSb5g0kx8vQzURpy6LlN523Xfk0jVTo8Z9TKxsefVev1LFrhA5U5KTT024abZE0m7hawRvN_KDfTFF50URnXtMdNqOvjmr2rEpg0hMBd09CpexqVm0-NFzdM6fQEf2g844IQW8uCw/s320/Bible+and+Swirls+Page+Divider.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Well, today was day one in our efforts to read through the Bible in 90 days. Our reading was Genesis chapters 1-11 and Job chapters 1-5. Following our SOAP formula, I'm supposed to pick out a verse that stood out or spoke to me. There were a couple of them.<br />
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First, Genesis 1:1 always gets me. "In the beginning, God..." There is just so much power and meaning in those four little words. They are the foundation of the entire Bible, the basis of all our faith. In the beginning, God: was, existed, created the entire universe, saw the time when His own Son would become the sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, saw me, knew me, and loved me. He was the Alpha and the Omega even before the beginning! It makes logical sense for the Bible to begin with the account of the creation of the world, but more than that, I think there's even greater meaning to why the Bible begins with those first four words. Because without "In the beginning, God..." nothing else matters at all.<br />
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I just love those words. I love the incredible promise contained within them. Praise the Lord that God was there even <i>before</i> the beginning!<br />
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The other verse that caught my attention was Job 1:22: "<i>In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrong.</i>" For the sake of clarification, here is the "this" verse 22 refers to:<br />
<blockquote><i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; text-align: left; text-indent: 1em;">Now there was a day when his sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother's house, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>and there came a messenger to Job and said, "The oxen were plowing and the donkeys feeding beside them, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>and the Sabeans fell upon them and took them and struck down the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you." <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, "The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants and consumed them, and I alone have escaped to tell you."<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span> While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, "The Chaldeans formed three groups and made a raid on the camels and took them and struck down the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you." <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, "Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother's house, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>and behold, a great wind came across the wilderness and struck the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young people, and they are dead, and I alone have escaped to tell you." </span></i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; text-align: left; text-indent: 1em;"><i>Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>And he said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> gave, and the <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> has taken away; blessed be the name of the <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>.</i> Job 1:13-21 (ESV)</span></blockquote>So, Job lost all his livestock and all his children on the same day, one report of bad news coming right on the heels of the last one and what did he do? He grieved, certainly. He tore his clothes and shaved his head in agony. But then he fell on the ground and <u>worshiped</u> God! He didn't get mad at God. He didn't blame God. He didn't stomp his feet and shout to the heavens, demanding to know <i>why</i> so much grief had been poured over him. He simply worshiped God. He immediately recognized and vocalized the truth that God is the source of all our blessings and it is in His hands how long we are allowed to keep them. Though the words are not said here, I can only believe that Job knew and believed with all his heart that "<a href="" id="essa" name="32211x5"></a><i>for those who love God all things work <a href="" id="essa" name="32211x20"></a>together <a href="" id="essa" name="32211x45"></a>for <a href="" id="essa" name="32211x46"></a>good,<span id="note42984" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: super;"> </span>for those who are called according to his purpose.</i>" Romans 8:28 (ESV)<br />
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I wish I could say I've had that kind of trust and faith all my life. I haven't. I spent a lot of years after the death of my mother being miffed that God had taken her from me. I wanted to know why. And even after I finally found peace with that, I have had moments when I again found myself questioning God's wisdom and reasoning. Losing people we love is never easy. Even when we know they've made professions of salvation, when we believe they are gone to be in the presence of the Lord, letting go is always painful for us. The years have taught me to trust God, to rely on His strength to carry me through the hard times. Still, though I have learned to trust Him, I don't know that I could be as devoted as Job was if I lost as much as he did.<br />
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All of us who have been Christians for a while know Job's story. We know it got even worse after this, but that he remained faithful through it all, and that in the end, his faithfulness was greatly rewarded. There are all kinds of lessons to be learned from Job, which is precisely why God chose to include his story in the Bible. But I wonder how many of us really try to put ourselves in his place? How many of us take the time to try to imagine how overwhelming his grief must have been. I'm not a mother. I can't conceive of what it would be like to lose a child. But I have friends who have lost children. I know that no matter how many years pass, they still grieve for that child. No matter how many other children they have, there is always a place that cannot be filled. So imagine not losing <i>one</i> child, but losing <i>10 at one time</i>. All your children just... gone. I imagine the loss of his livestock - which was substantial - didn't hold a candle to the loss of his children.<br />
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Now, try to imagine how you would react. Do you think you would praise God? Do you think you could? Could you utter the words, "blessed be the name of the Lord?" Or do you think you'd get stuck thinking about how unfair it was? Do you think you'd wind up looking at God and demanding that He explain just why He would allow you to suffer such intense pain?<br />
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Lord, I pray that you would give me strength and courage. That you would shore up my trust in You and erase any doubts that might still linger. Fill me with Your grace and wisdom so that I can face whatever comes with peace in my heart and praises for You on my lips. Amen.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaRNgARLyEfujoIVHLwSSGnU6kYFKeGCC_aI0dIcKc5z0sqxh5FVn3ucvOSkeJ8cFONjmqGpILCPGWmuBDZU4OukO11x4tt8om3OXABijzTPBvFX5wiCPP9B2HK80MJ7q_eNC9u3gut8/s1600/Decorate+Cross+Page+Accent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaRNgARLyEfujoIVHLwSSGnU6kYFKeGCC_aI0dIcKc5z0sqxh5FVn3ucvOSkeJ8cFONjmqGpILCPGWmuBDZU4OukO11x4tt8om3OXABijzTPBvFX5wiCPP9B2HK80MJ7q_eNC9u3gut8/s320/Decorate+Cross+Page+Accent.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A quick update about my health. I had another heart scan done on Tuesday, July 19. I went this morning to see my oncologist and get the results. My heart function had risen from 51% to 56%. It was at 61% when they did my baseline before I started chemo last year. So I'm on the way back up, which is very good news since it means I can continue to get my herceptin treatments. If all continues to go well, I'll finish them up some time in November. I'm more than half way there! I got my treatment today, so I've got 3 weeks until the next one.<br />
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God is so GOOD!!!<br />
<span id="goog_1786432184"></span><span id="goog_1786432185"></span>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-16712523709276936322011-07-18T15:32:00.000-05:002011-07-18T15:32:10.985-05:00Dedication...Okay. For those of you who don't know me personally, I'm a procrastinator. My mother used to tell me all the time that Procrastination should have been my middle name. I am always thinking of things I need to do or ought to do or even just want to do yet actually <i>doing</i> them is often a serious problem for me. I'm a crafty kind of person and really enjoy doing a lot of different things, which just adds to my collection of UFOs. (UnFinished Objects) I'm a pack rat because I'm forever looking at things and thinking, "Oh, I would <i>love</i> to make one of those," or, "I just <i>know</i> I can use that <i>sometime</i> for <i>something</i>." A great case in point is the countless patterns I have for various projects, from purses to miscellaneous jewelry to cross stitch. I collect patterns like I collect fabric. (Yes, it's an addiction. No, I have not sought professional help for it.)<br />
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Along with all my craft stuff, I also collect books. I am an avid reader. I got it from my mother, who was a heavy reader herself. Some of my earliest memories are of her reading to me. I had a "Bible Stories for Kids" book that was well worn. But there were a lot of fairy tales, too. And as I got older, a whole host of other books. Then I started reading for myself and the library became one of my favorite places in the world. We had this book case that sat in our hallway. It held our World Book Encyclopedias - my source for all sorts of in formation in the days before we all had access to the internet and it's infinite supply of "knowledge." Along with the encyclopedias, though, was an extensive collection of books I'd picked up through the years. From my earliest days of reading right through high school. My mother was a teacher's assistant and she used my books as her own personal library when she was looking for something new to read to her class of 2nd graders.<br />
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These days, I still collect books. I still have my "Bible Stories for Kids" as well as the fairy tales my mother read to me when I was a child. I've added a few others in my adult years, including the complete "Lord of the Rings" series as well as the Narnia books - both gifts from my husband because he knows how much I love to read. There was a time when I had literally hundreds of miscellaneous books that I'd picked up through the years, though I have since gotten rid of the vast majority of them in the interest of reducing clutter. Most of them went to Goodwill or the library. I still have plenty of books on hand, though. Including a rather large assortment of Bibles. I have my children's Bible. It has a cutesy cover and several illustrations of some of the major highlights. I have the Bible a boyfriend got me when I made it to my teens and that kids Bible just became a little absurd for me to carry. I have the Bible my mother carried most of her life and the one my father bought her to replace it. I have my father's Bible, complete with "autographs" of visiting preachers inside the inner cover.<br />
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In addition to all these "old" Bibles, I have a number of "new" ones. My husband and I have identical study Bibles that were given to us by our former church. (Amusingly, we actually have <i>four</i> of these Bibles because my husband has worn his first one out to the point that entire sections of it have fallen out. He still insists on using it to read from morning and night, though. His new one is his "go to church" Bible.) Then there are my parallel Bibles, one of which I used to take to church with me on a regular basis. I have a very small Bible that I carried in my purse for a while since I read somewhere that it was a good way to get in some extra reading time. It could be pulled out while waiting at a doctor's office or at the mechanic or wherever. These days my Bible is a program on my iPad. Just yesterday I was showing it off at church. That thing has been one of the best things in the world for me and I love it. I use it every single day for countless things from my Bible to checking email to my calender and my medical history. It has been a great blessing and also holds dozens of ebooks. Now I can take my "library" with me wherever I go.<br />
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Along with my Bibles are my collection of song books. I've got old ones and new ones, several old hymnals, and an entire satchel full of sheet music and song lyrics. (Music is about as much an obsession as reading,) I have enough cookbooks to open my own restaurant and cook a different recipe every meal of every day for the rest of my life without having to repeat anything. I've also amassed an impressive number of "For Dummies" books. And, last but not least, is my significant collection of Bible studies and other Christian literature.<br />
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I'm a big Beth Moore fan and have several of her books. I love the idea of Bible studies so I have several of them. Some in book form. Some individual studies I've downloaded from the internet. Some entire series that I have saved on my computer or bookmarked in my browser or otherwise made note of for some eventual day when I decide to make the time to do them. Needless to say, they number about the same as the recipes. I could never do them all. Yet I still collect them.<br />
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The sad reality is, I don't do them because I'm always finding something else to do. My attention span seems to be unfortunately short. It has always tended to wander a bit, but going through the chemo didn't help matters any. During the height of the treatment, I could barely keep my mind focused for more than a minute on anything at all. I bought a shirt that makes light of that particular side effect.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5hzsK0ukKFjIiuRohNtZXK2ZrqcpuTMF-8iTjySxDtpdiUnx6UcwhygHNjwldmIVZtryiCX02N1hAf8aCks5wR4dEAjBCC7taft2wI_mIVK_SXdAllyJv8fpEuT5jTNNIz8rjS0hPJU/s1600/chemo1_tshirt-p235617034299819123qmkd_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5hzsK0ukKFjIiuRohNtZXK2ZrqcpuTMF-8iTjySxDtpdiUnx6UcwhygHNjwldmIVZtryiCX02N1hAf8aCks5wR4dEAjBCC7taft2wI_mIVK_SXdAllyJv8fpEuT5jTNNIz8rjS0hPJU/s400/chemo1_tshirt-p235617034299819123qmkd_400.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.zazzle.com/chemo1_tshirt-235617034299819123">Zazzle Page for this shirt</a></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table>It's a lot better than it was, but I still catch myself having trouble keeping my focus sometimes. Anyway, all these Bible studies and books and Bibles are just sitting around, waiting for me to get myself in gear and put them to good use. I just need to commit myself. Which brings me to the real point of this post.<br />
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I mentioned my husband's Bible which he reads each morning and evening. He's gone through the entire Bible like this a few times now. I've been a Christian since my teens and know my way around my Bible fairly well. I've got a lot of various verses locked away in my head, mostly from so many years of being in church and hearing them read. Memorization has never been my strong suit. I can and have done it, but only in small spurts. Likewise, regular dedication to reading my Bible is one of my serious failings.<br />
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It isn't that I don't want to or that I don't like to or that I don't think it's important. I do. I'm always amazed at the way God can take a verse or a passage we've read a dozen times and reveal some new aspect of it on that thirteenth - or even fiftieth - time through. And there's no doubt at all that consistent reading and study of God's Word is important, even necessary. But like so many other things in my life, I just keep putting it off until "tomorrow." In all my years as a child of God, one thing I have never committed myself to is a front to back reading of His Word. I feel like that's something I really need to do.<br />
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Now, let me quantify that by saying that I don't put much stock in reading "by rote." It's kinda like repeating the same words of a prayer over and over and over again as a matter of tradition. Like countless other Christians, I know The Lord's Prayer by heart. I don't "pray" it as a matter of routine, however. I don't think that's why it was given to us. In fact, Jesus warned directly against "vain repetition" right before He gave us His prayer. <span style="color: red;"> </span><br />
<blockquote><span style="color: red;">But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen <i>do</i>: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. </span>Matthew 6:7 (KJV)</blockquote>Too often I think cover to cover reading of the Bible winds up being a bit like routine repetition of The Lord's Prayer. It loses it's meaning through excessive repeating. This isn't to say that reading the Bible front to back is a fruitless exercise, but it has to be done for the right reason and with the right "heart." Otherwise it's a vain exercise, just like the prayer. I don't think God likes it when we turn our worship of Him into an exercise we can "do in our sleep." That just sucks all the depth and real meaning right out of it.<br />
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As I said, I've never done a cover to cover reading of the Bible. I read verses and chapters and passages more or less at random, or as part of a Bible study or a church service or when looking for something in particular. It's possible that through this approach I have managed to read every verse in the Bible at some point or another, but it isn't quite the same as a deliberate, dedicated devotion to ensuring that I have read them all. Moreover, that I haven't just read them, but that I've taken the time to consider what they have to tell me.<br />
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I mentioned in my last post that I am a part of an online community of Christians called <a href="http://www.worthychristianforums.com/">Worthy Christian Forums</a>. I love the site and have learned a lot since I joined it over a year ago. I have also "met" some wonderful Christians there. It's an awesome representation of the body of Christ, in that we are all so different, from different places both geographically and spiritually. Meaning we have members ranging from "babes in Christ" to "elders" who can offer tremendous wisdom from a lifetime of walking with the Lord. We have comedians who keep us all laughing and theologians who make us all think. And there are the encouragers, members who lift us when we're down or prod us to dedicate ourselves more faithfully to God. One of these members started a <a href="http://www.worthychristianforums.com/index.php?/topic/139445-admins-mods-i-have-a-question/page__p__1680989__fromsearch__1#entry1680989">thread</a> several weeks ago asking the administers and moderators at Worthy if some sort of group could be started that would be dedicated to reading through the Bible chronologically in 90 days. After some back and forth with one of our mods, she started up a new <a href="http://www.worthychristianforums.com/index.php?/topic/139518-bible-challenge/page__p__1681653__fromsearch__1#entry1681653">thread</a> spreading the word about the project.<br />
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She started a group on Facebook called <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/203436229699359?ap=1">Chronological Bible in 90 Days</a>. There are 28 of us who have joined that group so far. Presumably all of us are committing to at least doing the reading, though the goal is to do more than that. We read, yes, but we are planning to also post our progress in SOAP format.<br />
<blockquote>S = a scripture or passage that really stood out to you that day<br />
O = your observation about the scripture's context<br />
A = how you can apply this passage to your life<br />
P= a simple prayer to wrap things up.</blockquote>My first thought when I read about her idea was, "cool." Then it was, "wow, 90 days?" Then came, "Yeah, I can't even make myself read a single verse every day." Which immediately led to me thinking that I ought to be ashamed of that and that God certainly deserved more than what I was giving Him. So I jumped into the fray and committed myself to participating.<br />
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Most of the time I'm excited about it and looking forward to the challenge. Then I have days like today when I wake up with a migraine and have to force myself to sit down and write the post I've been planning to do about this project for a while now. Days like this aren't particularly conducive to "growing in grace and knowledge of the Lord." I'm tired, hurting, and irritable. I'd rather be asleep, where I can get away from the pain in my head, even for a little while. But once our project starts, I won't be able to ignore it or put it off. Because what's the point of making the commitment if I'm not determined to stick with it even when I don't feel like it?<br />
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The truth is, I need this. I need to immerse myself in God's Word, to dig into it and see what He has to tell me. Yesterday in church our pastor confessed that lately he hasn't been feeling excited about reading the Bible. (He's the kind of man who has no problem at all admitting that he isn't perfect, which is one of the reasons we love him.) He flat out said it wasn't God's fault, that God's Word had not lost any of its power or meaning, but that he was the one to blame. Because God never moves, He never pushes us away or withdraws from us. We are the ones who move away from Him.<br />
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It's tempting to sit here and say that I need to get myself back in the "mood" to be devoted to God. That I need to "get my head and/or heart right" before I try to undertake something as big as reading through the Bible in 90 days. But that's a lie. What I need is to just get myself into God's Word. I need to start reading, to dive in head first and trust God to do the rest. I need to make a commitment and refuse to back away from it. I need dedication, to make a promise to God that I will be there, that I will meet Him every single day with my heart and mind open to whatever He has to teach me. So that's what I'm doing.<br />
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Starting this coming Thursday, July 21, our little group will begin our journey through the Bible. If you're up for the challenge, join us. Don't let anyone, including yourself, tell you that you can't do it. Don't let the problems and busyness of day to day life keep you from making a commitment to do something big. Whether it's this Bible reading project or some other thing God's called you to do that you keep putting off.<br />
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Life never stops. It doesn't slow down or give vacations or time off. I have a treatment on Thursday. I'll be tired and scattered. I won't feel like doing anything at all, much less something that's going to require me to actually focus and pay serious attention. But I refuse to surrender to that voice in the back of my head that keeps trying to tell me that I can't do it. That I shouldn't have committed myself to this. Christie, the woman who started the whole thing, has just found out that she's going to be facing a trip to visit her daughter for the birth of a grand child, as well as a completely unexpected move from Las Vegas to Texas, all right in the middle of our 90 days. You think she isn't tempted to call it all off? Think she hasn't had a few moments when she thought, "Gee, Lord, I was trying to do something for You, here. You could have held off on all the big events until afterwards!" Want to know what she ultimately said, though?<br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i was starting to feel overwhelmed, because of the florida trip for the birth of my grandson in the middle of this 90 day schedule. so what does God do? he drops a cross-country move into the mix, and then whispers that i'm going to NEED this much time in His word every day to keep my sanity</span>! <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(Posted on the group wall on Facebook.)</span></span> <span style="background-color: #ea9999; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></span></blockquote>Man, I love that! I love that despite the craziness of it all, she can see God's hand at work in her life. And that's why I'm doing it. Why I'm committed in spite of my heavy leanings toward procrastination. I want to make this promise to God, I want to set my mind on Him, on His Word, on a determination to stick to it no matter what comes my way. I want to remind myself that the only way I can do anything at all is by relying on Him to get me through it. I want to take a leap of faith and trust that He will help me focus and stay faithful.<br />
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Life is hectic. We have countless distractions, both unavoidable and those we allow to creep in. But nothing can overshadow God if we refuse to allow it to do so. Nothing: no trial, no trouble, no emotion, no physical pain or weakness, no character flaw. God is the conqueror of all our failings, if we will allow Him to be. As one of my favorite songs says, "God will take away your pain <i>if you choose to let it go</i>." It doesn't just apply to pain. It applies to any and all obstacles to our walk with Him. It's all about our willingness to "let go and let God." We can do all things <i>through</i> Christ. Not on our own. So I'm going to be relying on God to keep me going as I do this. <br />
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If you would, please keep us in your prayers as we embark on this effort. We'll all be facing our own obstacles as we go through this reading schedule. We'll need God's strength to stay faithful to our commitment. And like I said, if there's something you're feeling led to do, don't let anything get in your way. God deserves our devotion and dedication. Remember that every time we put off answering His call, we are telling Him that He's just not as important as whatever it is we're choosing to do instead.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-46799981674050241822011-06-30T12:53:00.000-05:002011-06-30T12:53:08.807-05:00The Global Connection.....I am fairly computer savvy. Not brilliant. Not by a long shot. No one will ever have to worry about me turning into a computer hacker or programmer. I missed that boat by a few years. I come from the generation that grew up right when computers were just starting to become available to the general public. An Atari was as close as we got. I was out of high school and living with my husband when I finally got my first home computer. It still used big ol' 8" floppy discs and had no internal memory to speak of. Then again, it was a clearance special from an outlet store. LOL<br />
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Had I come along a few years later, I might have grown up with a personal computer in the house. I might have learned to type on it instead of the ancient typewriter my mother kept in a closet. [DING!] I might have learned BIOS right along with English. But, I didn't. I missed it by a few years. I can actually remember an article in a "3-2-1 Contact" magazine that predicted how we would all have home computers one day and that we would actually use them to shop, to order things without ever having to leave the house. I was in such awe of that. I can remember telling my mother all about it, being so amazed at the very idea of being able to connect with the local Piggly Wiggly or Wal-Mart from home. (Not sure if Piggly Wiggly is even still around. We had 2 of them in my home town and Mark still laughs about it to this day.) As a kid, the notion of connecting to a store across town was fantastic. I couldn't even imagine being able to connect to the entire world.<br />
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These days most of us are indeed connected. We have home computers, not even desktops any longer, but laptops that we move around with, that give us the freedom to make and maintain connections from almost anywhere to almost anywhere on the planet. And laptops are probably on their way out, too, as they get smaller and smaller, hold more and more memory and speed and technology. Net books are rising fast, never mind things like iPads. (Lord, above, I LOVE my iPad!) I've had my iPad for over a year now (it's a 1st gen) and it has made me ignore my laptop a lot. I use the laptop for stuff like this, because let's face it, typing on a screen even as large as the one on a iPad is a pain. And I'm just too cheap to pick up a keyboard for it, especially when I have my laptop and when a big part of what I love about my iPad is its portability. If I start adding a bunch of accessories like a keyboard and mouse, then it ceases to be quite so portable.<br />
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Add a smart phone to the laptop and iPad and I guess I'm as "plugged in" as the next person. Yet, even with all this, I am still not as connected as many out there. I have a Facebook page. I use it to keep up with family and friends that are scattered all over the country. My husband's Facebook friends are global. Places like England and Dubai. I am a member of an online Christian community called <a href="http://www.worthychristianforums.com/">Worthy Christian Forums</a> that has members from all over the globe. Australia, Canada, South Africa, England, Israel, America. We come together to share thoughts and testimonies about our Christian beliefs and walks. We pray for each other, uplift each other, learn from each other, all without having ever once met in person. I share photos I take online at <a href="http://www.flickr.com/">Flickr</a>, and in turn enjoy the incredible photos of others. Obviously, I have this blog that allows me to ramble on about whatever is on my mind which others can then read and comment on if they so choose. I read blogs of others. All people I don't actually "know." How incredible that we can reach out and "touch" each other no matter how far apart we are!<br />
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Finally, I have a Twitter account. This is, however, one social networking tool that I have ignored for the most part. I'd say it's mostly because I'm cheap and as such, do not carry a texting package on my phone. ;-) If I could send and receive texts without having to pay for them, then I'd probably be just as into Twitter as all the rest. Though, seriously, I do wonder why anyone thinks we would care about the mundane minutia of their daily lives. There's some of this on Facebook, with status updates that tell us someone is eating popcorn, or watching TV, or sitting in a park, or something else that means nothing at all. But Twitter is the home of inane, pointless drivel. I do follow a few people, though I don't know why, since I only stop by my Twitter account once every month or so. That pretty much defeats the entire purpose of having Twitter. Especially since at least half the people and/or organizations I follow are news related. LOL Still, I recognize the power of Twitter and the potential it has to be an incredibly useful tool.<br />
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Case in point:<br />
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I am have been vaguely familiar with <a href="http://www.sherwoodbaptist.net/templates/cussherwoodbc/default.asp?id=33770">Sherwood Baptist Church's</a> Christian<a href="http://www.sherwoodpictures.com/"> movie ministry</a> for a while. These are the people behind the movies, <a href="http://www.flywheelthemovie.com/index2.php">Flywheel</a>, <a href="http://www.facingthegiants.com/home.php">Facing the Giants</a>, and <a href="http://www.fireproofthemovie.com/">Fireproof</a>. Their newest movie, <a href="http://www.courageousthemovie.com/">Courageous</a>, is due to be released September 30th. They are a Southern Baptist Church located in Albany, GA. I recently saw them mentioned on the TLC show "19 Kids and Counting" when Jim Bob and his kids took part in filming while visiting the set. This was back when Michelle was still in Little Rock with Josie. Anyway, even more recently somehow, someway, through one of my social internet connections, I was told about the movie, Courageous. I went to look it up and did some browsing on the Sherwood BC site, read some of the stuff from their pastor <a href="http://michaelcatt.com/">Michael Catt's blog</a>, and decided to follow him. I'm marginally better with keeping up with the blogs I follow than I am with my Twitter account since I use Google Reader to keep me abreast of the blogs and news and other things I take interest in. I do still sometimes let a few days go by without checking it, though.<br />
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Last week, Michael Catt posted <a href="http://michaelcatt.com/2011/06/oh-be-careful-little-hands-what-you-tweet/">"Oh Be Careful Little Hands What You Tweet."</a> I don't follow him on Twitter because, well, I don't "follow" the people I already follow, so why bother adding anyone new? That's why I subscribed to his blog. Yet this post really spoke to me. It drove home just how connected we all are and how God can and does use technology to accomplish His purposes. It also reminded me just how careful we all need to be with what we say and do, whether online or in person, since we never know just who might be listening or who might read what we've said. In Michael's case, he posted a comment about the recent gaff by NBC where they absurdly removed the words "Under God" from the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of the 2011 US Open Golf Tournament. (That is a whole 'nother rant!)<br />
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He mentioned that if they couldn't get something that simple right, then how are we supposed to trust them on "big" things? Good question. And one that was picked up by the <i>New York Daily News</i> when they wrote an article about the omission. One must understand how Twitter works to appreciate what this meant for Michael. Twitter is driven by what is known as "trending." A topic or a person or an idea becomes popular with a few well-known or heavily followed members and suddenly, he/she/it is being commented on and followed by thousands more. Getting your name in the limelight is a good way to suddenly find yourself being followed by untold numbers of people across the globe. This is what happened to Michael Catt. He didn't realize it, though, until a few days later when, while sitting at home, he decided to post a thought that he'd been dwelling on.<br />
<blockquote>“What if 1,000 pastors starting calling for prayer, repentance and revival? What we have is not working.”</blockquote>So simple. So down to earth. An idea from one pastor to other pastors. A heartfelt query as to what could be done to change the growing apathy that seems so terribly rampant within our churches today. As leaders of our churches, our pastors guide us. If they devote themselves to prayer, repentance and revival, then call upon their congregations to do the same, what might it lead to? Michael Catt tossed this idea out there as it came to him and never expected the response he would get.<br />
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Within the first hour, he said he'd received responses from all over the U.S. and even from as far away as India. Pastors everywhere were responding that they were "in." They would join him in a call for revival in God's house. Michael talks about it far better than I could, so I encourage you to read his post. <br />
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I have no idea if this will become a true movement within the Body of Christ. I hope and pray it does, as true revival seems to be a thing of the past. What I am amazed by, however, is just how quickly and easily Christians from around the globe were able to read of this and respond to it. As Michael Catt says, we have become lukewarm as a people. We sit here and whine and grumble about the state of this nation, but ignore the states of our own hearts and homes. We follow the routine of attending church without more than a token thought for God or His Son or the guidance of His Spirit. Mediocre has become "good enough." We have not only lost our love for God, true, life-altering love and adoration of the One who created us, but we have lost our hunger for holiness. We talk a good game, but when push comes to shove, we place our own selfish thoughts and desires before anything else.<br />
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We are faithless in our service because it's inconvenient. We make excuses for why we can't or won't go beyond the traditional service "schedule." Heaven forbid we suggest that anyone devote even more time to God than Sunday morning, evening and a Wednesday night service. We have allowed the world and worldly thoughts and emotions to keep us from being true servants, from following after David and being men (and women) after God's own heart.<br />
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I'm not just talking about others out there. Though I've seen it first hand in others, I must first look at myself. I have failed God. I have allowed myself to stay out of His house, to avoid dutiful and fruitful study of His Word. I have allowed myself to become lukewarm in a time when we all should be on fire.<br />
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Atheists would call it laughable. Certainly I've heard it said all my life that we are rapidly approaching the final days. Perhaps we are already in them. Maybe this world is on the cusp of the final moments of its fallen life. So much of what we see seems to be indicating as much. And if we aren't, if God intends to allow this world to continue, then how much worse will it get? Every single day of the past week someone has been shot in the nearest large city. On one day, two different people lost their lives in violence.<br />
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There are copious warnings within the Bible about the coming of the end. In a nut shell, we are told that things will get worse and worse and worse. Everywhere I look, I see pain and grief and hatred and violence. Life has lost its value. And what are God's children doing in these troublesome times? Nothing. We're going to our churches, shaking our heads and clicking our tongues in dismay at what we see on the news, then flipping the channel to our favorite sport or sitcom and forgetting all about the state of the world.<br />
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<blockquote><i>And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;"></span>not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as <em>is</em> the manner of some, but exhorting <em>one another,</em> <u>and so much the more as you see the Day approaching</u>. Hebrews 10:24-25 (NKJV)</i></blockquote>Is the Day approaching? Are we nearing the end? I don't know when God will say, "Enough." I don't know when He'll look out upon His creation and say, once and for all, "It is done." I do know that we, as Christians, have shirked our responsibility to each other and to the lost. We are so lazy that we refuse to study the Word for ourselves and so simply repeat the dogma we hear others speak. We are so wrapped up in our own lives that we find it easy to justify skipping church whenever we like. We put our interests before God. We put our families before God. We rely upon our personal thoughts instead of letting God guide us into thinking as He does.<br />
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This post by Michael Catt struck home with me because it convicted me of my own failings. We are to lift each other up. To encourage and strengthen one another. A large part of this is done by the fellowship shared by attending church regularly. But how can we do this if we don't bother to show up?<br />
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The internet has giving us the ability to connect globally. We can seek out those who share our views or those who oppose them. We can share testimonies about our personal walk with God that can uplift and encourage people we will never meet this side of heaven. All of this is good and beneficial. But it does not take the place of the personal assembly of God's people. We need that one on one connection, the personal closeness gained only by assembling ourselves together where we can lift each other up and provide both spiritual and physical support.<br />
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We need revival. And it must begin within each of us. We must seek God's face alone so that we can have power when we seek him as a group. Revival cannot and will not begin because a group of pastors decides we need it. It won't even come if those pastors in turn spread the word that it is needed among their congregations. It will only come when every Christian opens their heart to God as an individual. When we seek His face and His will with no hesitation or reservation. Until that happens, we will just keep right on rolling down the path we're currently on. Weak, divisive, and lukewarm. <br />
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<blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-88747538449986186862011-06-20T18:59:00.000-05:002011-06-20T18:59:23.853-05:00One Year Later...It has been a year since my OB/GYN found the lump in my breast during a routine breast exam while I was in for my annual gynecological exam. Actually, it was a year on June 16th, but I went back for this year's exam today, June 20th. I don't mind saying that I was kinda holding my breath while she did my breast exam. I mean, I check myself regularly now. I didn't before the diagnosis, which leads me to see this as just one more time in my life (among countless others) when God showed me grace and protected me from my own idiocy.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Ladies,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <u><span style="color: #cc0000;">DO MONTHLY BREAST SELF-EXAMS!!!!!</span></u></span></div><br />
Anyway, despite the fact that I do my own exams regularly these days, I was still a bit concerned that she might find something I hadn't. I mean, she's the one who found the last lump. It was an irrational fear, I know, but I felt it none-the-less. I should let you know how much I love my OB/GYN. I've been going to her for years and years now. When I first found her, I lived quite a bit closer to where her office is located. These days it takes me closer to an hour to get there, since we've moved in the intervening years. But I don't mind the trip. Not for her. She is a master at making you feel comfortable and at ease in spite of what's going on. We always chat like we're sitting at a cafe table instead of with me naked as the day I was born with my legs up in stirrups. LOL So while she was doing my breast exam we just chatted as usual. She was very thorough this time and I appreciated that. Not that she isn't always thorough, but she took a bit of extra time today. And praise God, she didn't find anything at all out of the ordinary. There was one funny moment when she felt my port beneath my skin and got a worried look on her face for just an instant before she realized what it was. We were both laughing about that.<br />
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We spent some time talking about my treatment, how it had gone and what I still had left to do. We talked about my not being able to take birth control pills ever again. This is an issue that has kind of confused both Mark and me since I was first told it by my Oncologist last year some time. My cancer was not hormone receptive. Most breast cancers are. So we kept trying to figure out why I had to avoid taking hormones of any kind since my cancer was negative for progesterone and estrogen. She said she'd heard it explained thus: If you think of breast cancer as a weed, then the hormones act kind of like a fertilizer. Since I have shown the ability to grow cancer, the last thing we'd want to do is "feed" my cells something that the cancer likes to eat. What a simple explanation!<br />
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Needless to say, I walked out of the office feeling a lot better this year than I did last year. The next big date will be my mammogram. That's coming up next month. It'll be my first since shortly before I got my official diagnosis last year. I've been x-rayed and scanned half to death plenty of times in the past year, but the mammogram is a big deal. One of my favorite sayings I've seen since I started my treatment is, "One more MRI and I'll stick to the fridge." I also like, "Any more radiation and I'll glow in the dark." There's also, "My oncologist does my hair." I put all these on t-shirts in <a href="http://www.zazzle.com/winsomebulldog*">my Zazzle store</a>. There's a lot more than that, but these are some of the ones that still crack me up when I see them today.<br />
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So, what's happening a year later? What have I learned? Honestly, I don't know that I necessarily learned anything, other than the obvious experience of having gone through all the treatment. I went into it knowing I was going to need God to get me through it. And I have to say that He did. By His grace, I came through it all with flying colors. I don't know that I learned anything, per se, but I do know that I recognized a lot of things. I have spent this entire journey marveling at how much God has blessed me. Every step of the way, He supplied my needs, as He has promised us He would. But He went further and gave me so much more than just what I needed.<br />
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He didn't merely provide Mark with a job that would supply us with insurance. He gave Mark a job with the best insurance we have ever had, bar none. And this job also started out as a day shift job, working a schedule that allowed Mark to be off 2-3 days each week so that he'd be able to not only take me to my treatments, but be home on the first day or so afterward to take care of me. God didn't just supply me with treatment options, He blessed me with the option to get all my care at a location that was less than half an hour from home. He didn't just allow the medications I took to fight my cancer, He allowed me to take those medicines without enduring anything close to the worst of their possible side effects. God didn't just give me a husband who does his responsibility of providing for my physical needs, but He gave me a husband who loves me more than any other person on earth. One who made incredible sacrifices without complaint or reluctance. The list could go on and on and on.<br />
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I've recently taken part in an online conversation with a young man who in an atheist. He, like so many others, wanted us to explain to him, intellectually, how we came to believe in God. How we<i> know</i> God is real despite the fact that we have no proof. I wasn't the only one who responded that we <i>do</i> have proof. Aside from the fact that the Bible says that Creation itself is evidence of God's existence, I know God is real because I have seen the evidence of His hand touching my life. Oh, I know that atheists would call it coincidence or good luck or fate or a whole host of other things. But I know God is there. I have felt His touch on my life, heard His whisper in my ear, and witnessed His grace more times than I can count. There's a song that has been sung by many artists. I learned it courtesy of The Florida Boys. It's called, "My God Is Real."<br />
<blockquote>There are some things I may not know, there are some places I can't go, but I am sure of this one thing, my God is real for I can feel Him in my soul.<br />
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My God is real, He's real in my soul, my God is real for He has washed and made me whole, His love for me is like pure gold. My God is real for I can feel Him in my soul.<br />
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I cannot tell just how I felt when Jesus washed my sins away, but since that day yes since that hour, God has been real for I can feel His holy power.<br />
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My God is real, He's real in my soul, my God is real for He has washed and made me whole, His love for me, is like pure gold. My God is real for I can feel Him in my soul. </blockquote>Here's a video of them singing it, if you're interested:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwnAtc3CKM857WIDHD9RMAwJbEtNhHAFMITfMvNCsADyYr1TayyKeQc5bl3p8d0BBtErDtLld4mE7oCo9PRvw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>As I recently told the young atheist, we can't provide him with scientific proof of God. For us, we believe God is real by faith, but countless experiences every day of our lives also confirm our faith. We see God everywhere, in everything. I know I certainly do.<br />
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And so, a year into living life as a woman with breast cancer, what I can say I have learned is that God is still real. He is still on the throne. Nothing happens by chance or luck or fate. Everything is part of His grand plan and He is never, ever far from our sides. I am so grateful for what He has given me. For His infinite love and patience and blessing, even when I don't deserve it. My God is real. And He's indescribably great!winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-76019310280893267182011-05-21T09:17:00.000-05:002011-05-21T09:17:12.562-05:00The Mysterious, Incredible, Undeniable Hand of God...I have been a Christian for a long time. I was in my early teens when I got saved and I just turned 40 - you can do the math if you want. In the years since I gave my lift to Christ, I have grown in knowledge and understanding, gaining wisdom that only comes with time and a willingness to admit you need to be taught. Gosh, that sounds kinda arrogant! Let me make myself perfectly clear. I'm not saying I have all the answers, or even a lot of them. Sometimes I wonder if I know anything at all. But I think that's a good place for a Christian to be.<br />
<blockquote><i>"Be not <a href="" id="essa" name="19235x3"></a>wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil." Proverbs 3:7 (KJV)</i></blockquote> In Matthew 18, Jesus talks about being humble like a child. While it might be debatable about just how humble most children are today, the fact remains that small children are trusting like no adult. They rely on their parents for everything from food to shelter to love and everything in between. And they do so without hesitation or question. This is what I have come to believe God wants from all of His children. Simple trust that He is always in control, that He loves us, and that He will never, ever do anything that isn't in our best interest. And this is the heart of the wisdom I have gained since my salvation all those years ago.<br />
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While I had little understanding or recognition of it at the time, God was planning and working and calling me long before I answered Him. God's like that, you see. He uses all sorts of people, events, and things to catch our attention or to guide us to where He wants us to be. It can be hard to see His hand at work when we are in the middle of all the action. You know that whole "forest for the trees" thing. And it is doubly difficult for a soon to be or new Christian to recognize the evidence of our Lord at work. Newbies or those on the verge of giving in to God rarely have any discernment at all. We just drift along, perhaps feeling the tug of an unseen current, but generally unaware of how or why it is there or where it is taking us. I am profoundly grateful that God has seen fit to let my eyes be opened in regards to this. These days I see His hand everywhere!<br />
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There are times when I am practically bursting with joy and thankfulness as I see evidence of Him around me. Sometimes it is just the mere beauty of a day, or the touch of my husband's hand on mine, or the melody or words of a song that come at precisely the moment I need them. Sometimes it's that still, small voice whispering within that gives me some desperately needed bit of guidance, understanding, or comfort. And sometimes it is the odd congruence of multiple events that most would consider coincidence but that I cannot help but attribute to the Creator of the universe. See, I don't believe in luck. I don't much believe in coincidence. I don't subscribe to the eastern philosophy of Karma or fate, but I believe with every fiber of my being that God has a grand plan for every soul on Earth and that He is constantly working in every single life to bring that plan to completion.<br />
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All this has led me to be very sensitive to God's movement in my life. I see Him everywhere and in everything. From the song that plays on the radio to the emails friends send me to the random websites that pop up when I'm doing some kind of web search. Sure, there are plenty of things out there that have less to do with God than with this world or even the devil as he tries to lure me away, but so often I see God working in everyday moments.<br />
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One of them came today. I got up and picked up my computer to glance through my email. One of my very best friends (and a woman I respect more than she will every know) had forwarded an email to me. I get quite a few things from her, sometimes funny, sometimes touching, sometimes thought provoking, always welcome.<br />
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In case there's any doubt, I'm talking about you, Carolyn. <a href="http://www.smileys.me.uk/"><img alt="Free Smileys" src="http://www.free-emoticons.co.uk/emoticons/Love/love39.gif" /></a><br />
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Carolyn is an artist whose work can be found on <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/QuiltingCarolyn?ref=pr_shop">Etsy</a>, & <a href="http://www.craftsu.com/profile/CarolynWainscott?xg_source=activity">Craftsu</a>. You can see images of just a small sample of her work on both <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/55869199@N05/">Flickr</a> and <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/118030126768204971239/CreationsOfCarolynWainscott#">Picasa</a>. She makes "how to" videos of all sorts and video collages of her work which she posts on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/mamgranny">YouTube</a>. And she has two blogs here at Blogger as well. <a href="http://carolynscanvas.blogspot.com/">Carolyn's Canvas</a> is where she shares her crafts, the inspiration behind them, and little bits and pieces of day to day life. <a href="http://cwainscott.blogspot.com/">The Alabaster Box</a> is where she shares the countless ways God has influenced and touched her life and the way she praises and glorifies Him in return. <br />
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If you take the time to read or view much of her stuff, you will quickly find out that she has a rapier wit and a servant's heart. I love both of those parts of her equally. We are never together that we don't laugh repeatedly. Joy and humor are big parts of what get me through my darkest hours but that's another post!<br />
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Carolyn sends me emails which she forwards from other friends and family quite often. This morning she sent me one containing a story that I'm fairly sure I've read before. I'll reprint it here so you can share it's message, which is a very good one.<br />
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<blockquote><table bgcolor="#E8E8E8" cellpadding="20" class="style3" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555272"><tbody id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555271">
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<tr id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555270"><td class="style14" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555269"> <div class="style8" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555312"> <span class="style9" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555824"><span class="style16" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555823">The Refiner's Touch<br />
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There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three they came across verse three which says, "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. <br />
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One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week the woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that, in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. <br />
<img align="left" alt="Silver smith putting heat to a silver bowl" border="0" height="188" src="http://www.clarion-call.org/extras/smithy3.jpg" width="169" /></span></span><div class="style6"> </div><span class="style9" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555318"><span class="style16" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555317"> <br />
The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot - then she thought again about the verse, that He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver. She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. For if the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. <br />
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The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?" He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's the easy part -- when I see my image reflected in it." <br />
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If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you and will keep His hand on you and watch over you until He sees His image in you.<br />
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Pass this on right now. This very moment, someone needs to know that God is watching over them, and that whatever they're going through, they'll are NOT ALONE</span></span><span id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555405">, and will be a better person in the end.<br />
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</tbody></table></blockquote> The version I received had a quote at the end that was incomplete. I decided to try to look up the story online to see what the rest of that quote was. I found the above version of the story on a site called <a href="http://www.clarion-call.org/menu.html">The Clarion Call</a>. It did not include the quote I was looking for, so I did a different search for it and found it elsewhere.<br />
<blockquote>"Life is a coin. You can spend it anyway you wish, but you can only spend it once." <br />
— Lillian Dickson</blockquote> Now, I started out looking for a quote. (I do this kind of thing ALL the time, often with similar results.) At the end of the above story on The Clarion Call was an addendum which follows.<br />
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<span class="style16" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555842">NOTE FROM KAY: I verified that the information in this story was true. I contacted a silversmith at </span> <a class="style4" href="http://www.silversmithing.com/"> <span class="style15">www.silversmithing.com</span></a><span class="style16" id="yui_3_2_0_2_1305976988555845"> and asked if there were any untruths in the silver-smithing parts.<br />
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I received the following response from Fred Zweig: "I am familiar with the verse from Malachi. The similarities of actual refining and the chapter and verse from the Bible are accurate. It is important not to overheat the silver when refined in this process and clean molten silver will shine with a mirror-like quality when it is ready to pour. The high temperatures do volatize the impurities and form on the surface as dross. It is important to be attentive to the molten metal as it does it no good to overheat it. It may not destroy the silver, but silver has an affinity for absorbing oxygen and this can make it unworkable." </span></blockquote>Being the wildly curious person that I am, I wondered just who Kay was. So I backed out to the home page of The Clarion Call to find out. It turns out she is <a href="http://www.clarion-call.org/extras/kay.htm">Kay Meyerett</a>, the creator of the site. I have hardly had a chance to do more than a cursory glance at the site, as it is quite extensive but two things caught my eye right off the bat.<br />
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First: At the end of the home menu page I linked to earlier, I read this, "I do know one thing for sure and that is that God brought you here. That must mean there is something here for you!" I am a firm believer in just such things. God leads us where He wants us to go so that we can learn new things about Him or ourselves that can then be used in our spiritual and/or physical lives. I appreciated knowing Kay saw His hand at work as much as I did.<br />
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Second: A little further down the page, right before the links that would take one to the various articles, studies, stories, poems, and other things on the site was this:<br />
<blockquote><div align="center"><span class="style10">WARNING!!<br />
</span> <span class="style11">You need to know how to determine what is true and what is not true about the things of God. Here's how to:<br />
</span> <a href="http://www.clarion-call.org/truth.html"><span class="style20">Determine the Truth of the Matter</span></a></div></blockquote>My, how I love seeing someone point out the necessity of discernment! So few seem to have it these days. I followed the link and started reading and quickly came across:<br />
<blockquote><div align="center"><strong><span class="style7"><strong>~~~~ THIS IS IMPORTANT! ~~~~<br />
</strong></span><strong>THIS IS HOW TO DETERMINE THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER!</strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><strong>Don't believe anything you read here at the Clarion Call. Don't believe anything you hear at church. Don't believe anything you hear coming out of any human's mouth!</strong></strong></div></blockquote>I am still grinning like a nut even after reading this several times just because I feel a wild rush of appreciation for anyone willing to lay it out so plainly in black and white. She goes on to explain the importance of letting God teach you what is true and what is not. The need of studying and learning the Bible for yourself so that you will be able to recognize the truth when you see it. And the utter necessity of learning to set aside your own sense of logic, fairness, and any and all preconceived notions to allow God to guide you into the understanding needed to be useful to Him.<br />
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I don't know Kay. I've just stumbled across her website in what many would consider a matter of happenstance. I read her bio, have not had a chance to read any of her Bible studies, but feel a kinship with her all the same because of the little I have read. I will read more. And in spite of the fact that I like what I've read so far, I will not take anything I read at face value. I will weigh it against the Bible and the whisper of the Holy Spirit within me to determine if it is of use. I will take what is and leave what isn't. But I get the feeling that the useful will outweigh the useless. Because like she said, God brought me there.<br />
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And that's what makes me laugh out loud to myself sometimes, and sing at the top of my lungs, and wave my hands to heaven. Because God is there, in the big miracles we see every day, like the whole of creation and the life of Christ, and the person healed of some disease. But He's also there in the moments between the great miracles. In the odd tension in the pit of our stomach that tells us to slow down when we aren't even driving the speed limit so that we can avoid hitting a child that will dart out into the road in front of us only moments later. In the countless little things that pop up to keep us from getting around to going to the store or on a visit or somewhere else where we might have encountered something harmful. In the peace that floods us when we are moments away from a spiritual, emotional, or physical breakdown. In the joy that leads us to praise God when we have every right according to the world and our own human nature to curse Him. And in the seemingly random congruence of a series of events that leads us to a person, place, or even a website were we will find fresh understanding of God.<br />
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I'm not posting this to praise Kay Meyerett. Like I said, I don't know her. I could read some of her Bible studies and decide that she's a nut or just plain wrong. But even if all I get from her site is a reminder that God is in control of every moment, every event, every instant of my life, then that's enough.<br />
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I pray that everyone else can see God's hand in their life as well. I pray He will reveal Himself to you in a profound way. And I pray that He will continue to reveal Himself to me so that I will never forget how great and wonderful He is.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-61852177517071713842011-05-08T12:55:00.000-05:002011-05-08T12:55:14.513-05:00For Mama...<span id="goog_726417660"></span><span id="goog_726417661"></span><span id="goog_726417648"></span><span id="goog_726417649"></span>It's Mother's Day again. I've been facing it without my own mother for 23 years now. Believe me when I say it really never seems to stop being a day of both pain and joy. Because of this, I thought I'd do a post about my precious mother.<br />
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She was born Jennie Carolyn Bulliner on December 6, 1938. The family she was born into was already a bit complicated. Her mama, Wyonia, had been married to Orland Miller and had one son with him. James Lee Miller was born deaf. Then my grandmother divorced Orland Miller and married Linus Bulliner. They had two children together. My mother and her sister, Sandra. <i>Then</i> Mamaw divorced Linus Bulliner and <i>remarried</i> Orland Miller. (This is the man I grew up knowing as my grandfather. Papaw Miller.) They then had another child, Carl, known to everyone as Smittie. Mamaw would stay married to Papaw Miller until his death.<br />
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My mother was the one chosen to attend "deaf" school with her older brother. She taught everyone else how to sign. She was very close to him. She used to tell me that she looked up to him a lot. So much so that once when she was a young girl, she was following him around and he decided to jump over a mud puddle. She was younger and smaller, but like most younger siblings, decided she could do it, too. She tried to leap over the puddle but didn't make it and landed right in the middle of it. Unfortunately, someone had been breaking glass in the hole. She was barefoot when she landed. Glass was driven up into one of her feet. When she told the story she used to say she could still remember the sound of her brother screaming as he carried her back to the house. I don't remember exactly what was done. She did see a doctor but all the glass apparently wasn't removed because she said years later a piece of it actually worked its way out the top of her foot. She had the scar to prove it.<br />
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I can remember being a child and my mom teaching me how to use sign language to tell Uncle James Lee that supper was ready and that I loved him. He always seemed to find it cute when I'd come trotting up and sign something. Here's a shot of our whole family at one of our annual Christmas dinners held at my grandmother's house.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCkFUfDgavRAV0jWXh_Dh3JvYskrJQAVD-88Ab33BpJOzXVMjEmysEQOCnVBuxzoDnlnbYfg-n4_5tqKjzW8JpJnKVbr35KjBBpT3RmffleEYxZuyes9u6m6ebMyvn28S5L8LYmt_etHE/s1600/IMG_0080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCkFUfDgavRAV0jWXh_Dh3JvYskrJQAVD-88Ab33BpJOzXVMjEmysEQOCnVBuxzoDnlnbYfg-n4_5tqKjzW8JpJnKVbr35KjBBpT3RmffleEYxZuyes9u6m6ebMyvn28S5L8LYmt_etHE/s640/IMG_0080.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>That's me in the very center, looking up at my cousin, Allen. Uncle James Lee is immediately to my right. My mother is right behind me. This is most of the family, minus my sisters and their families. My uncle Smittie is the last one on the right. My Aunt Sandra is the second woman on the left. (The one in front with the long dark hair is Uncle Smittie's wife, Rethel.) I won't even try to list the names and locations of all the cousins. LOL<br />
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I think this shot just might have been taken on the same day of another shot of my mother and me. <span id="goog_726417627"></span><span id="goog_726417628"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnB5ND3g9bTVXueArN2MZy3L9XRfFrMkF6cs8SP-elrlnEvCf1xScFze5eWwEg_KnluoFWluJJq88cH6grjwylSBaOA72J_tVpZwjk3WXH5PI_ckcD2JmwnSUdzXOTHfkF1aqOcU1ZKU/s1600/scan0084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnB5ND3g9bTVXueArN2MZy3L9XRfFrMkF6cs8SP-elrlnEvCf1xScFze5eWwEg_KnluoFWluJJq88cH6grjwylSBaOA72J_tVpZwjk3WXH5PI_ckcD2JmwnSUdzXOTHfkF1aqOcU1ZKU/s640/scan0084.jpg" width="626" /></a></div>Gosh, I can't get over how beautiful she was! I've just realized that these two shots were made on the same day. I cropped this one to just show her face and have been using it as my profile pic on facebook in honor of my mother. As an aside, I'm fairly sure she made that dress for me.<br />
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Anyway, Mama was raised in rural Tennessee. She got married young and gave birth to two daughters, Connie Lynn and Debra Kay. She used to joke that when she had her first child - Debbie - she panicked because she was a girl. Mama had pretty much raised my Uncle Smittie so she knew all about baby boys. She said she wasn't sure what to do with a baby girl. LOL. Good thing she figured it out, because girls was all she had!<br />
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My sisters' father was James C. Smith. I never really knew him until after my mother's death, at which point he welcomed me into his family with open arms and started telling everyone I was his other daughter. God Bless him. He's gone home to be with the Lord, now.<br />
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I'm not sure how old my sisters were when Mama and James divorced. Young enough to still be small kids, I think. Mama was working at some factory when she met my father, David Maynard. He used to say that he wanted to marry her the first time he saw her. You'd have to know my father to understand how he managed to completely sweep my mother off her feet. She was a country girl. born and raised in the back end of nowhere. Daddy used to say that when he met her, she'd never actually been to a "sit-down" restaurant where the waitress came to the table and served you. While Mama was what I'd affectionately call a country bumpkin, my daddy was a city boy through and through. He was a charmer on par with the best car salesman. When he decided he wanted my mama, he just pulled out all the stops and went and got her. They got married and eventually had me.<br />
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My sisters were several years older than me. Debbie was 15 when I was born and Connie was 13. My Daddy used to tell me that I was not a mistake. He said he and Mama planned for me. I wouldn't have cared if I had been a mistake, though. I knew I was loved dearly and that's all that matters.<br />
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When I was born, we lived in a house in a suburb of Memphis. It was, in fact, in Mississippi. Southaven to be exact. I can remember quite a bit about that house and living there. Like the fact that I used to stand in the hallway and yell because there was a bit of an echo that I found endlessly entertaining. I seriously doubt Mama found that nearly as fun as I did. LOL<br />
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I can remember Mama putting me down in her bed one night during a storm. I remember her singing to me as I lay there with the lightening flashing outside. I can remember Mama helping me search for a tooth I lost in the living room floor because she'd gotten me all dressed up for something and I'd slipped and fallen thanks to my patent leather shoes and the hardwood floors. (Had to have that tooth for the tooth fairy, you know!) I can remember Mama's fondness for using bricks set at an odd slant to line her flowerbeds. I remember being furious with her because I came home from school (pre-school? first-grade? not sure) to find that she'd sold my tricycle at the yard sale she was having. I was too big for it, but I still played with it, mostly by standing on the back foot rest and pushing it around like some kind of scooter. I remember that we had a pet rabbit in a hutch out in the back yard and I went out there and stuck my finger through the wire and the stupid thing bit me. I can remember it bleeding like crazy and that it hurt really bad, too. I remember one night while Mama, Daddy and I were sitting down at dinner that the house started shaking. Daddy grabbed me up and headed for the bathroom but it was all over before we even got there. I remember standing with Mama and Daddy at the front door looking outside while they discussed that it had been a tremor. I had no idea what a tremor was, but I thought it must have been some kind of really big truck or machine because it had made the house shake when it drove past. I clearly remember looking down the road to see if I could catch a glimpse of it. LOL<br />
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Daddy used to tell a story of one time when he was stripping the paint off the front porch. He said I was a toddler. Somehow I managed to get the front door open and I stepped out onto the porch wearing nothing but my diaper. Whatever he was using, it was caustic. He said I started screaming and Mama came running. He said we both fell in the mess and that he remembered us being in the bathtub with Mama still in whatever clothes she was wearing and me in my diaper crying while they rushed to try to wash the chemical off of both of us.<br />
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I remember having a lot of ear aches when I was little. I can remember lying on the couch with my head in Mama's lap while she put ear drops in my ears. I remember countless times when she would sit up with me while I was sick. I can still remember the smell of Vicks since she rubbed it all over my chest every time I started coughing. LOL I remember fainting once when I was in my early teens. I was in the kitchen at the table and was rocking back on the back legs of my chair when I just went out like a light. I guess I fell backwards and hit my head on the bar. Mama snatched me up and was carrying me upstairs when I woke up. I was no small thing at the time. But my size didn't mean a thing to her as she rushed to lay me down and make sure I was okay.<br />
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And this is a big part of who she was. She was, without a doubt, the most caring person I have ever known. She would sacrifice anything for her kids. She would go to any length for us, fight any battle. Her love was unconditional and didn't waver. She taught me what love was supposed to be. No matter what, you don't quit, you don't ever turn your back on someone you love.<br />
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I watched her endure a lot in her lifetime. I watched her deal with a failing marriage to my father. I watched her take care of her own mother, being there for everything from family deaths to canning crops. Lord, did my grandmother like to can! Probably a product of surviving the depression. I have no idea how many hours we spent at my grandparents' place picking all manner of crops or plums from an ancient old tree. Mama did her fair share of canning, too. Plum jelly is still my favorite to this day.<br />
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My mama was just an incredibly precious person. I'm not trying to say she was perfect. None of us are. But I cannot imagine having a better mother. We did all the wonderful things mothers and daughters ought to do together. We baked cookies regularly. She read to me constantly until I was old enough to read for myself. We would sit up late on summer nights watching old reruns of Rawhide and The Rat Patrol on TV while munching on a bowl of popcorn.<br />
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When my parents marriage started falling apart and my father eventually moved out, my mother wound up working 3 jobs to make ends meet. She did it all without complaint. Yet she still somehow managed to find a way to be there for me whenever I would sing in a concert or anything else she felt I needed to be supported at.<br />
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Looking back, I can't help but be profoundly grateful for everything I know she did for me. I'm thankful that I never went though that rebellious stage so many daughters seem to hit in their teens. I stayed close to my mother through it all. I adored her and considered her my very best friend, though there was never, ever any doubt that she was my mother first and my friend second. I had fun with her. I never wished she'd go away. I never dreaded seeing her coming. I'd have rather spent my time with her than most anyone else I knew.<br />
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I was 17 when she died. It was sudden, with no warning at all. She got sick with what we all thought was just a cold. I found her collapsed on the bathroom floor on a Saturday morning. She was dead Tuesday night. Viral Pneumonia. No one should die from that. Especially a 50 year old woman in the prime of her life. It killed her because she didn't seek medical treatment for her sickness. She didn't seek treatment because she didn't want to spend the money. Oh, how I wish she'd made a different choice!<br />
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Losing my mother devastated me. It still haunts me 22 years later. I don't think I will ever fully get over it. By the grace of God, I have learned to live with the loss, to go on in spite of the depression that overtook me after her death. Still, I miss her with a fierceness that is sometimes more than I can bear. To this day I can remember one thing with a clarity that is nothing short of profound. The feel of her hands. I don't know why, but they are etched into my memory like a carving in stone. The texture of her skin, the feel of it when I would hold her hand or when she would touch my face. I pray that I never lose this memory.<br />
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There are other things that are less distinct. She liked White Shoulders. She had old powder boxes that still smelled like it. In those days, powder boxes were actually plastic. I remember she kept my barrettes in one and buttons in another. A few years ago I was in Wal-Mart just before Christmas when they have all the gift sets of makeup or perfume or bath products set up for the holiday. I noticed a White Shoulders gift set and picked it up to smell it. I can still remember tears flooding to my eyes right there in the middle of the aisle. It brought her back so strongly!<br />
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I have gone on with my life. None of us has any other choice when someone we care for dies. When my sister, Connie, lost her battle with lung cancer in 2001, I can remember standing in the funeral home picturing the reunion that must have taken place between her and our mother. I can just see Mama there, waiting eagerly for her middle daughter. I can see her throwing her arms wide in welcome and saying, "There's my baby!" And I can see the two of them embracing with tears of pure joy on both their faces. I'm not eager for death, but I look forward to the day when it will be my turn to run into her arms once more. Mama told me once when I was probably twelve or so that I would always be her baby. It didn't matter how old I got or how big, I would always be her baby and she would love me come what may.<br />
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I know none of us can fully understand the scope of God's love for us. It is something beyond our feeble ability to comprehend. It is the very definition of unconditional. It transcends all else, reaching a beauty and profundity that we can only dream of achieving in our own fallen lives. But I also believe that a mother's love is the closest any of us will ever get to the love of God. My mother gave me everything I could have ever wanted or needed. She taught me how to love, not with words, but through her own example.<br />
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I've said before that she didn't know how to stop loving someone. She was planning to divorce my father when she died. We never told him that. He died himself 3 years after Mama from complications of pulmonary fibrosis, which is scarring of the lungs. I tell people when it comes up that if my mother had not died, I know exactly what would have happened. Even if she'd gone through with the divorce, she would have taken care of my father when he got sick. She would have moved him back into our house and cared for him until the day he died. It was her nature. No matter how much someone angered or hurt you, if you loved them you never turned your back on them when they needed you.<br />
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Mama was hardly perfect. She had her flaws. My sisters could probably attest to plenty of mistakes she made while raising them. Fortunately for me, by the time I came along she'd worked out most of the kinks of parenthood. I had it easy, to hear them tell about it. And I probably did. Mama was a lot more relaxed the third time around. Plus, I was the baby of the family and so got coddled by everyone, even my sisters. I was spoiled, but not to the point that I lost all respect. I was just loved thoroughly. And I was a profoundly happy child because of it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGQubxah5w_ZdbyHiqWUYVvB6V7a37M6s7pA3Khsa2tdUBI60j3WLNhnek8WS4VHGdFXkIEAGeqz04Ur7TOfK9xBL0zh7wCls1zVWLfdlCB33TAoInmdiDmQ_8cRJ-tkpEXqgl1xrWmo/s1600/scan0080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGQubxah5w_ZdbyHiqWUYVvB6V7a37M6s7pA3Khsa2tdUBI60j3WLNhnek8WS4VHGdFXkIEAGeqz04Ur7TOfK9xBL0zh7wCls1zVWLfdlCB33TAoInmdiDmQ_8cRJ-tkpEXqgl1xrWmo/s640/scan0080.jpg" width="450" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is one of my favorite pics of my mom. She was so young and just looks so sassy!</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSbqyaH3eLAxBvbRywUyk3cMiLag2rqeS0dBcdXo6ZaQjcsygxFWiMHPc55J7uMq5OAY1puXhj6WgyLlvS2EFl9aOM9G3EYnWUR38RmpMAADb0cK3JY7pJZmjPxRPCcBWl54q_RW_7U8/s1600/scan0121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSbqyaH3eLAxBvbRywUyk3cMiLag2rqeS0dBcdXo6ZaQjcsygxFWiMHPc55J7uMq5OAY1puXhj6WgyLlvS2EFl9aOM9G3EYnWUR38RmpMAADb0cK3JY7pJZmjPxRPCcBWl54q_RW_7U8/s640/scan0121.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mama with me. She was so obsessed with getting that little curl on top of my head! Of course, with all the hair she had going on I reckon she didn't want me to feel left out. LOL</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcS4JeFL5IUYxzKT9u1LA0XCwDYBx2STVRHpx6PDFwqtElal9KfaJoeedKHbOrgQ5IZfHR19jNQ6ltk0ufcGZi_kVbDiZkXMskUFwEbm8OlxXr1eO1lx-HMC6KHoJG39HsxMmjWKWXNYM/s1600/scan0085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcS4JeFL5IUYxzKT9u1LA0XCwDYBx2STVRHpx6PDFwqtElal9KfaJoeedKHbOrgQ5IZfHR19jNQ6ltk0ufcGZi_kVbDiZkXMskUFwEbm8OlxXr1eO1lx-HMC6KHoJG39HsxMmjWKWXNYM/s640/scan0085.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taken at a family reunion, I think. That's my grandmother on the left end. Then my father, Mama, me, my brother-in-law, Dale, nephew Dale, Jr., sister Debbie, sister Connie, and Connie's husband, Henry. This is another of my favorite pics, despite Daddy's hideous pants! (on a side note, I find it hilarious that me and both my sisters are wearing flip-flops. I think Mama's got on sandals, but all of us lived in flip-flops in the summer. When we wore shoes at all. LOL)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPVrQOyZwE2lH6jlS31OnEWMyVDhX19XJvoqhh9ALCUoQeaWpVYrnf-6soISMJJVB-tphOLwPISgdXaSlZqrgLu7UcfIrWbls3-nVkK9zOKSBj4lk7Abj5n5tDnqqd2AWhB84kfB2gG0/s1600/Mother+Goose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPVrQOyZwE2lH6jlS31OnEWMyVDhX19XJvoqhh9ALCUoQeaWpVYrnf-6soISMJJVB-tphOLwPISgdXaSlZqrgLu7UcfIrWbls3-nVkK9zOKSBj4lk7Abj5n5tDnqqd2AWhB84kfB2gG0/s640/Mother+Goose.jpg" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I call this the Mother Goose photo. Mama was an avid reader and I inherited that love thanks to her reading to me all the time when I was little. Here she is reading to her grandkids. Dale (oldest), Jessica (youngest at this time), and Adam, who's looking at the book like he thinks it's going to eat him. LOL</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmtxlHYgAm4nYu8grmaEGCrIEDmVAtlWFZ37Z-WONGAEWkAhUzi8MEBhQui7Obo7roaPbhgEreFMk-OjRcm0EEel8kjtOTHk-RYcTjKsITzEBj0QAbJ0LZVGCE6WPNNewE6lPHGdGRqE/s1600/scan0263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmtxlHYgAm4nYu8grmaEGCrIEDmVAtlWFZ37Z-WONGAEWkAhUzi8MEBhQui7Obo7roaPbhgEreFMk-OjRcm0EEel8kjtOTHk-RYcTjKsITzEBj0QAbJ0LZVGCE6WPNNewE6lPHGdGRqE/s640/scan0263.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mama and me on a summer night in the park. It was after Music Mania, an annual variety show put on by members of the music and band programs at my school. I was in the show. We'd gone for ice cream and Mark snapped this shot. None of us could have known that in less than a year, Mama would be gone.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="messageBody"> <span id="goog_726417646"></span><span id="goog_726417647"></span><span id="goog_726417656"></span><span id="goog_726417657"></span>This last shot is how I remember Mama most. Happy and smiling.</span> This is what I miss most about Mama being gone. I just wish she could be here to talk to and to laugh with and to hold my hand when I'm sad or afraid. She was my rock on this earth and even as an adult I still feel somewhat adrift without her here. But I know where she is. I know she's with my sister. And I know that God has her wrapped in His great arms.<br />
<br />
All of us who are Christian women know of the woman in Proverbs 31.<br />
<blockquote><div style="color: windowtext; display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">10</span> Who can find a virtuous and capable wife</span></i><i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">She is more precious than rubies.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">11</span> Her husband can trust her,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and she will greatly enrich his life.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">12</span> She brings him good, not harm,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">all the days of her life.</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">13</span> She finds wool and flax</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and busily spins it.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">14</span> She is like a merchant’s ship,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">bringing her food from afar.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">15</span> She gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for her household</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and plan the day’s work for her servant girls.</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">16</span> She goes to inspect a field and buys it;</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">with her earnings she plants a vineyard.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">17</span> She is energetic and strong,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">a hard worker.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">18</span> She makes sure her dealings are profitable;</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">her lamp burns late into the night.</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">19</span> Her hands are busy spinning thread,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">her fingers twisting fiber.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">20</span> She extends a helping hand to the poor</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and opens her arms to the needy.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">21</span> She has no fear of winter for her household,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">for everyone has warm clothes.</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">22</span> She makes her own bedspreads.</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">She dresses in fine linen and purple gowns.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">23</span> Her husband is well known at the city gates,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">where he sits with the other civic leaders.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">24</span> She makes belted linen garments</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and sashes to sell to the merchants.</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">25</span> She is clothed with strength and dignity,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and she laughs without fear of the future.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">26</span> When she speaks, her words are wise,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and she gives instructions with kindness.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">27</span> She carefully watches everything in her household</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">and suffers nothing from laziness.</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">28</span> Her children stand and bless her.</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">Her husband praises her:</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">29</span> “There are many virtuous and capable women in the world,</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">but you surpass them all!”</span></i> <i><br style="line-height: 1em;" /><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">30</span> Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">but a woman who fears the <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> will be greatly praised.</span><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -2em;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'Times', serif; font-size: 0.7em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: super;">31</span> Reward her for all she has done.</span></i> <i><span style="display: block; line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 3em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em;">Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.</span></i></div><i> </i><i> Prov 31:10-31 (NLT)</i></blockquote>"Her children stand and bless her."<br />
<br />
I bless my mother. I call her worthy of praise. She was all any woman should be. Faithful. Brave. A hard worker. We had food and clothes for winter because she made sure the pantry was stocked and that we had whatever we needed. She even made clothes for us. She was a true friend to those who had the privilege to call her by that name. She was a mother to every child she met. She was a teacher, fan, supporter, disciplinarian, chauffeur, doctor, whatever she had to be. And I am a vastly better person for having had the privilege of knowing her.<br />
<br />
Thank you, Lord, for my mother. As my sister posted on her facebook page today, "<span class="messageBody">Happy Mothers Day Mom! You are missed and loved everyday. I know you are sharing your day with Connie. I know she will share our love with you. She is missed and loved everyday also. We keep you both close to us in our hearts and our memories. I pray that God give you both fields of roses and wildflowers."</span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody">Amen.</span><br />
<span class="messageBody"></span>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-3778723702054953462011-05-05T13:44:00.000-05:002011-05-05T13:44:24.495-05:00Getting Back to Normal...Normal. It's a relative term. But then everything in life is relative. Einstein sure had that right! Every thought, fear, and emotion is relative to our own personal experience and views. "Normalcy" is no different. They (scientists and/or psychologists) spend a lot of time studying what is normal. They run all kinds of tests, compile reams of data and statistics, then create charts and reports to explain what is or is not normal for an average, normal person. Personally, I think most of it is malarkey.<br />
<br />
Still, I confess that I believe nothing about cancer treatment is "normal." The moment you hear that word come out of the mouth of a doctor "normal" goes right out the window. Maybe forever. But despite the lunacy of the treatment and the discomfort of the side effects, it all eventually comes to an end. The chemo and radiation - and by extension their side effects - are temporary. You get it, then you're done. They tell you that you'll start getting back to normal within a few weeks or months, depending on a lot of other factors. I can't really speak to that with authority yet because I have not gotten back to "normal." I'm getting there, though. There might be a mitigating factor keeping me from recovering as quickly as I should, but more on that later. First let's talk about what is changing.<br />
<br />
The hair is the most obvious thing, I suppose. It's just growing like crazy. It's actually gotten long enough now that I have to take a comb to it after a shower or risk looking like a character from a Japanese Anime cartoon. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2vvNNzqZuOSlENpeK8JOQ46vcwUcf-bF1LjpdEFNVLv-FmY4SBwT5Juc1zF8_A_G-uPD11lV4fHNeTLBl76FQvTFIhd2385fzdMhOk8owtLXchC9UMWM-7_t_3K5J-5RWdRbpzd6ceI/s1600/Cool+Anime+Cartoon+Anime+Desktop+Boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2vvNNzqZuOSlENpeK8JOQ46vcwUcf-bF1LjpdEFNVLv-FmY4SBwT5Juc1zF8_A_G-uPD11lV4fHNeTLBl76FQvTFIhd2385fzdMhOk8owtLXchC9UMWM-7_t_3K5J-5RWdRbpzd6ceI/s640/Cool+Anime+Cartoon+Anime+Desktop+Boys.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not sure if he's sharing my opinion of his hairstyle here or not, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">but I know I give it a "thumb's down" when it's on <i>my</i> head.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So, I try to keep it under control, but have issues with the hair right over my ears. It's too short to keep tucked behind my ears and too long to just lay there nicely. It generally sticks straight out over my ears. Mark called me Mercury today. You know, the messenger of the gods who had wings on his feet and the sides of his head. Yeah.<br />
<br />
Eventually the hair will get long enough to actually do something with it and I'm looking forward to that. For now I'm just glad that it's finally starting to fill in so that I don't look so much like a balding man. It's still a little thin in front, but it's filling in. I've got eyelashes again. At least more than I had for a while there. And my eyebrows are coming back, too. Unfortunately, along with the hair on my head, the hair in my armpits and on my legs is returning as well. Alas, shaving will soon be a part of my routine once more. It's a real shame that they can't come up with some way to engineer the chemo to kill of armpit and leg hair for good. Sigh.<br />
<br />
So, the hair coming back is a good thing. I really, really miss having hair on my head. I keep looking at all my head bands, scrunchies, and barrettes with longing. I could wear the headbands, I guess, but what would be the point? They'd just make what little hair I have stick out like crazy. Believe me, I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in a glass door the other day with my sunglasses pushed up onto my head. It was NOT pretty. Along with the return of my hair, though, come some less than welcome parts of my old "normal."<br />
<br />
I have been sick with sinus issues for two weeks now. It was very unpleasant for a while there. It's mostly gone now, aside from a nagging cough as I struggle to get rid of the last of the congestion that set up in my chest. I've got a sinking feeling, though, that this was just the beginning. I think my allergies are going to be a bear this year. If the stuffy nose and sneezing are already starting then it doesn't bode well for the rest of the growing season. None of this is cancer related, however. I mention being sick because I have felt terrible for several days. And just when I started feeling better a new problem cropped up. I woke up with a headache one day and it didn't leave for another three. I have most definitely not missed the migraines. They've been gloriously absent through my cancer treatment thanks to the impact the chemo had on my hormones. Now that they're getting back to "normal," though, the headaches triggered by them are returning as well. This was the first migraine I've had in months. Not looking forward to that routine again.<br />
<br />
On a related note, I haven't had a menstrual cycle in months either. I expect them to be starting up again soon as well. I'm dreading that more than the return of the migraines. Without going into a lot of gory detail, my periods were nightmarish when I was young. I've been on birth control pills continuously for more than two decades. They helped regulate my cycles. (They also helped mitigate the migraines.) But I can't take birth control any longer so I'm concerned that the nightmare periods I experienced in my teens might return. All I can do is ask for prayer that this won't happen. Seriously, I really don't want to go through that kind of pain again. Sigh, again.<br />
<br />
Now to the one side effect that should be easing but hasn't so far. Fatigue comes with both chemo and radiation. In truth, it's just part and parcel of the whole cancer experience. The treatment causes it, but the constant running back and forth for all the tests, doctor's appointments, and treatments adds to the problem. Once treatment ends, your body and mind can begin healing from all the abuse and the fatigue starts lifting. As a point of fact, I have read many accounts from other survivors that suggest it takes months or even a year or more to get back to "normal." Still, I expected to notice some improvement. I haven't. If anything, Mark and I have noticed that I seem to be more tired. I have chalked it up to lingering effects of the treatment. Today I got an indication that I might be wrong about that.<br />
<br />
I mentioned before that I have to get regular tests to monitor the function of my heart. I got the first one before I got my first chemo. It was to give them a baseline to compare future tests to and to ensure that my heart was strong enough to endure the chemo. I received Adriamycin, which is known to be potentially damaging to the heart. This damage can be temporary or permanent and can appear with no warning at all either during treatment or at some point in the future. After completing the Adriamycin, I began getting Herceptin. This is not chemo, but is a medical therapy which is used to treat my specific kind of cancer. It targets a particular protein that is present in my cancer and makes it impossible for cells with that protein to reproduce. Unfortunately, Herceptin can also cause heart damage. I began the Herceptin in November and am supposed to receive it for a full year. They check my heart function regularly to make sure the Herceptin is not impacting it.<br />
<br />
My baseline MUGA revealed my heart function to be 61%. Anything above 50% is considered normal. (There's that word again. LOL) In November, just before I began receiving Herceptin, it was 59%. In March it had dropped to 55% and my doctor mentioned that he was concerned enough to schedule my next MUGA early. I had it this past Tuesday and he gave me the results today. My heart function has dropped to 38%. This is, needless to say, a significant drop in my heart's pumping ability. It may very well explain why I am still feeling so tired all the time. So I did not get any Herceptin today. I will not be getting any until and unless my heart function rebounds. I will be getting another MUGA in approximately six weeks. They will set it up and call me with the date. Until then I just keep going. I have no activity restrictions, which is very good. Mark was worried about it and specifically asked the doctor that question. At this point there is no reason to flip out. Well, there's never a reason to flip out, but you get what I mean, I hope. If it is merely due to the Herceptin then it should bounce back fairly quickly. If it rebounds dramatically, we will try starting up the Herceptin again and see what happens. If it doesn't, then that's something we'll deal with once we get there.<br />
<br />
In other news, I got all the results from my genetic testing and I am negative for either of the BRAC genes as well as any other genetic anomaly that might be to blame for my cancer. This is good news. At least I'm not carrying around a ticking time bomb just waiting to mutate some more cells. I might still have some stray cancer cells floating around somewhere that might someday take root and start growing again, but I'm not genetically predisposed to breast cancer at least. That's cause for celebration. Sadly, I was so sick around my birthday and over the past couple of weeks (and Mark was sick the week before that) that we still have not gotten around to having a celebratory dinner. I'm not bothered by it, though. I'm just grateful beyond words that I didn't have to make this journey alone. Not only do I have God to see me through it, He saw fit to give me a wonderful husband to help as well. Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Lord! <br />
<br />
So, things are getting back to normal but normal isn't what it used to be. I'm not sure it will ever be completely the same again. But that's okay. Change is a fact of life and we all have to learn to live with it whether we like it or not. Generally speaking, I don't feel bad. My cold or whatever it was is mostly gone. I can finally sleep through the night again, which is something I couldn't manage for several days there due to the congestion in my sinuses and my chest. I spent more than one night sitting up in a recliner. It was not a fun time. But God got me through it with relative speed. I had medicine to take and it didn't turn into anything that I needed a doctor for. I see all this as a blessing. As my favorite motto says, it could always have been worse.<br />
<br />
On another unrelated note, I need to thank God for one more big blessing. I had to be in Madison at 7AM Tuesday morning for that MUGA scan. That means we left home a bit before 6:30. It was still twilight out there and raining with the roads very wet and countless spots with heavy ponding on the roadway. We were moving along at a reasonable speed when we suddenly realized the road in front of us was blocked by a massive mudslide. This was the second one in a week along the same stretch of road. Mark couldn't swerve around it because there was an oncoming car. By the grace of God he got the car stopped before we plowed into the tangle of mud and trees. I tried to call 911, but was getting so much static on the line that I hung up. Then I tried to call the Jefferson County Sheriff's office but got a busy signal. I was waiting for a few moments to try to call them again when we passed a sheriff's car heading in the direction of the slide. His lights were off, so I don't know if he was responding to a call about it or if he just happened to be heading that way, but as Mark said, he'd find it either way. By the time we reached the hospital a few minutes later they were already reporting it on the radio. They had the road closed for more than 24 hours while they cleaned it all up. We passed it today and it's just amazing how much of the hill came down on the road.<br />
<br />
As I said, it could always be worse. Thank God for His mercy and grace and protection. Whatever comes of my heart, I know I can rely on Him to take me through it. That's all I need to know.winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-68936685560002191192011-04-28T17:57:00.000-05:002011-04-28T17:57:35.731-05:00Simple Truths...<div style="color: #990000; text-align: center;"><blockquote><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span>Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.</span></i></span></b></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">This was the opening line of an email forwarded to me by a couple of my friends. It struck me that I know so many people out there who spend all their time being angry or disappointed or defeated by the loss of what they believe was their "destiny." We all have dreams when we're kids. Most of us go through a series of "what I want to be when I grow up" phases. Firemen (or women), police officers, cowboys, princesses, teachers, wives, husbands, parents, rock stars... the list goes on and on. For most of us, our dreams change and grow along with us. When I was in my teens I remember an acquaintance who wanted nothing in the world more than to grow up and get married and have babies. There are plenty of women out there who want children with a desire bordering on desperation. </span></span><span style="color: black;">Men have their share of obsessions about who and what they want to be and want to have. We are all raised with notions of how life should be. Fairy tales probably don't help matters. They always end with everyone living "happily ever after." Worse, that ending always comes with the implication that "happily ever after" is something that just happens with no work at all. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">I'm not knocking fairy tales. I actually believe "happily ever after" CAN happen. I think it's happened to me. And while I would never, ever tell someone how to raise their children, I find it sad when I see children missing out on the wonder and magic of imagination given free reign. Sure, the real world is out there, lurking, and sooner or later we all have to learn to face it and deal with it. But these days kids seem to be growing up faster and faster all the time and that's a shame. We spend the majority of our lives as adults. Our childhoods ought to be filled with joy and laughter and impossible dreams. Reality hits us all too soon and I, for one, wish kids could hold on to their innocence as long as possible.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"> The problem is, too many out there grow up thinking they have some kind of RIGHT to get things their way. They get mad when things don't turn out the way they thought they should, or the way they were raised to believe things "should" turn out. As wonderful as the fairy tales are, I think we all need to remember that the real world just doesn't work that way. Like I said, I don't believe "happily ever after" is a myth, I just happen to know that it doesn't come easy and it takes a lot of work. And this is where the trouble starts. I'll use myself as an example.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">I was supposed to go to college and get married. I was NOT supposed to wake up one day at 17 to find my mother collapsed on the bathroom floor. I wasn't supposed to be sitting in the ICU of a hospital on the one year anniversary of my engagement waiting for my mother to die. I wasn't supposed to bury my father three years later. I wasn't supposed to find out the day after 9/11 that my sister was dying of cancer. I wasn't supposed to watch my mother-in-law, and best friend, lose the ability to speak because of the terminal brain cancer that killed her. And I wasn't supposed to go in for a routine yearly exam and come out with breast cancer. I was barely 39. I have no family history of breast cancer at all. None of these things were ever a part of my childhood dreams. Until the day my mother died, I never even considered that losing her was a possibility. For a lot of years, I was lost to my anger and grief over this event. It wasn't "supposed" to happen. But it did. All of it.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">I've been told by more than one person that I have a "good" or "wonderful" attitude as I deal with having cancer. Compared to the reactions I've seen in some others, I guess my attitude is a good one. But the reality is, I've learned how to face the often painful and ugly realities of life out of necessity. I lost so much time to depression when my mother died. Even today, more than two decades later, I occasionally have flashes of the old anger and grief. Mostly, I just miss her. I miss my father and my sister. I miss my husband's mom. The anger I once felt over the "unfairness" of it all is pretty much gone. Because the fact is, no one ever promised us that life would be fair. God certainly didn't. He never said that we would sail through life with sunny skies and smooth seas. In fact, He pretty much said the opposite. But that's a lesson too few of us seem to learn. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">And this is where that quote above rings so true. Life just never goes the way it's "supposed" to go. Tragedy strikes all the time. One viewing of the news should teach us all that truth. None of the nearly 15,000 who died in Japan expected that to happen. The hundreds who have died in the recent tornadoes that swept through the South didn't plan on that happening. Each person who died in these tragedies left behind family and friends who will now have to grieve.</span> <span style="color: black;">And that's what it all really comes down to. Whether it's the loss of a friend or family member, or the loss of a long held dream, or the loss of personal wealth or health, all of it is loss and inspires varying degrees of grief. How we deal with that grief is what defines us. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">I have learned to just let go of preconceived notions of what should or shouldn't happen. I have learned to change what I can and accept what I can't. In short, I have learned to "let go, and let God." I don't always understand why things happen, but I've learned to trust that there's a reason. Being angry helps no one, especially me. Being angry makes us miserable and just makes it harder on those around us. I sincerely believe that the greatest failing of most parents is that they do not teach their children to have an attitude of thankfulness. As Christians, we are supposed to be thankful even in the midst of trials, to be content with what we have instead of always wanting more and more. As a point of fact, I wish everyone knew God and trusted Him. But even those who choose not to do so would do well to learn to appreciate the blessings of what they have instead of being angry about what they don't. It's not that hard to do. Just open your eyes and take a look around you. You will see someone worse off than you. There is always someone who has it harder. I have lost many of my family members, but at least I had loving family. Some kids grow up without ever knowing what it means to be loved and cared for. I have cancer, but my prognosis is good while there are others out there who are told at their diagnosis that they're unlikely to survive. The side effects of cancer treatment aren't easy, but others reacted much worse than I did. I am just stunned by how many people out there can overlook the fact that however bad their situation, it could <i><u>ALWAYS</u></i> be worse!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">I have encountered people who were bitter about how their life was going. Bitter and angry that they have an illness like cancer. Bitter and full of rage that someone they cared about died. Mad at God and the entire world because their life didn't turn out precisely the way they thought it should have. My response? GROW UP! Life isn't fair. It isn't a fairy tale. It isn't a bed of roses. Pick whatever metaphor you like. The basic truth is that we just don't always get what we want. Sometimes life can be full of grief and pain and tragedy. Sometimes it seems like we barely overcome one tragedy only to be slapped in the face by a new one. We have the choice to either rise above it or wallow in the grief and anger. The easiest way to do this is to stop feeling so sorry for yourself and recognize that it just is what it is and the only thing to do is keep moving forward. Even more importantly, we need to keep in mind that there is a reason for everything. Considering some of the absolutely horrific things I see on the news every single day, I do wonder what good could possibly come from some of it. The terrible things people do to each other every day are just awful. How could any good come of the unspeakable atrocities that are perpetrated on helpless children? Or the crimes and abuses committed against adults for that matter? How can we find any hint of good or benefit in an ill child or loved one? The answer is always the same. WE CAN'T!!!! Only God knows the ultimate outcome. Only He knows where our journey will take us. Only He can see every single aspect of every moment in time. When we try to understand things with our limited hearts and minds we will fail every single time. Because our human nature gets in the way. We start demanding explanations and answers from the One who created us. We start trying to grasp the infinite with our profoundly finite minds and understanding. I'm not trying to make excuses or avoid the very real issue of doubts and fears. I have just learned through my own personal life that the only way I can face the uncertainty and grief and fear in the world is to trust that God is always and forever in complete control. Whether I understand it all or not, He has a plan. He is at work in every moment of my life. The things that I think I cannot endure are tolerable because He makes it so.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">The key to dealing with the unexpected changes to our plans and dreams and desires is to simply trust God to always work things out for the best for us. As Garth Brooks said years ago, "sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers." Though I don't actually believe any prayer is unanswered. Sometimes the answer is just "no." Looking back I can certainly think of seasons in my life when I was utterly convinced that I knew what was best for me, that I simply could not endure to go forward if I didn't get whatever it was I thought I wanted or needed. Like the song, I too had an early love that I thought I couldn't live without. Yet here I am, two and a half decades later with the man God knew I would one day meet and love. And I am profoundly grateful that when I was begging God to keep me and my first boyfriend together that He, in His wisdom, said, "No." Wow, am I grateful for that!! I now cannot imagine my life without my precious husband in it. He is my heart, my best friend and companion. His mere presence lifts my heart. God knew what was right for me. He knew the plans He had for me and for Mark and even though I couldn't see it then, He knew that the grief of that moment would be utterly overwhelmed with the joy of being joined to the "right" man in the future. And this is what life is all about for me. Even though I don't understand it, even though some of the things I see or endure break my heart, I know that somehow, some way, some day there will be good that comes from it. Maybe I won't even see it. Maybe it will be a change in someone else's life that I won't even know about until I learn of it in heaven. I can't know everything now. I can't see everything. But God can. And trusting Him is the only way to live. It's the only way to find peace in a world that seems increasingly ugly and harsh.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">Thank you, God, for saying no. Thank You for giving me what I need instead of what I want. And thank You for loving me even when I questioned You.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></div></div>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-33468252451168562262011-04-22T19:14:00.000-05:002011-04-22T19:14:32.351-05:00GOOD News/BAD News/NO News<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">GOOD News:</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I got the results from my BRAC Analysis (which is actually a test of the BRCA 1 and BRCA 2 genes) and they were negative. Specifically, no mutation was found. This is very GOOD news! It means that there is no abnormalities in either of the genes that have so far specifically been linked to breast cancer. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">BAD News:</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I got up with a sore throat this morning. More than sore, it's raw. I blame Mark. He was sick earlier in the week with exactly the same symptoms. My nose isn't stopped up or runny, but I've got snot running down the back of my throat, making it really sore. Not fun. Hopefully it won't last more than a couple of days. I waited until I got back home from Madison to take something for it because I was already tired when I left and I didn't want to make myself even more sleepy. I even stopped at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/winsomebulldog?ref=name#%21/javabeancafeandconfectionery">Java Bean</a> to pick up some coffee, both for the caffeine and the warmth. (I could have made some here before I left but I just didn't think about it until I was already heading toward town.) Bill remembered me from the last time I was in and asked how things were going. I told him that I was finished with the chemo and radiation and he and Jay both congratulated me on it. Then Bill gave me a very yummy coconut confection on my way out the door in celebration. They're such sweet guys. If you're ever in the Vevay, Indiana area you really should stop in and have some lunch or dinner, or just try some of their fantastic confections. They're all heavenly! </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">NO News:</span></i><br />
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I still have another genetic test pending. It's called BART (BRAC Analysis Rearrangement Test). It's a test that looks at a broader section of the genes to see if there are any more rare mutations. For someone my age, my doctor says they like to test for everything they possibly can. So I'm still waiting to hear about this test's results. Hopefully they'll be in soon.<br />
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Now I want to touch on something I've talked about before, but I just have to mention one more time. GOD IS AMAZING!!!! I woke up this morning, feeling sick and tired and still a bit anxious about what I'd hear when I got to the doctor's office. I get several devotions and Bible verses sent to me through various avenues, Facebook, Email, Blogs, etc. I was sitting on the side of the bed and grabbed up my iPad to check my email. (It has a handy little envelope icon that lets me know whenever I have new mail.) I had 3 new messages. Two were random stuff and one was a daily email I get from James Ryle at <a href="http://truthworks.org/">Truthworks</a>. In all honesty, I get so many devotions each day that I rarely get the chance to read them all. I save them to look back on later, but I don't always read them. The emails I get from James (he calls his devotions Rylisms) always start the same way. He bases each of them on a verse or verses and those verses are the first thing he writes. They're often the only thing I can actually see on the email. I have to click a link to go to his site and get the entire devotion. This was precisely what I saw when I glanced at today's Rylism in my inbox:<br />
<blockquote><a href="http://truthworks.org/?p=2020&utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+Rylisms+%28rylisms%29"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Untouchables</b></span></a></blockquote><blockquote><b><i>“You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday. A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; but it shall not come near...</i></b></blockquote> This is Psalms 91:5-7, minus the word "you" at the end. On his site James includes verse 8, but it was these words above that I saw and that felt like the voice of God speaking directly to my heart. I was not so much afraid as anxious, but the result is the same. It robs me of the peace that only comes from fully trusting in God. We SHALL NOT BE AFRAID of anything the world or the devil may throw at us because God is with us, He is our protector, our loving Father, our Sword and Shield against whatever comes our way. Praise the Lord for His love and care!<br />
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I didn't even read the devotion. I just saw this scripture and felt the touch of God. I got up and dressed and left just a few minutes later. And out in the car, when I plugged my iPod into my radio and selected a playlist titled "Favorite Christian" this is what I heard:<br />
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Either Way (I Win)<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">written by Frank Arnold, from the album "Faithful" by The Arnolds </span><br />
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Lord, I've fought this battle for so long, and while I've grown weary, I've tried to stay strong<br />
Though the battle rages, when it's all said and done, I'll be undefeated 'cause I've already won<br />
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Either way, I win, if You should call me home today, or on this earth You let me stay<br />
For when my life comes to an end, it's only then that it really begins, either way, I win<br />
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Lord, You hold my next breath in the palm of Your hand, it's Yours to release or withhold if You should plan<br />
It's kind of hard to feel sad if I think of it that way, so it's all up to You, Lord, do I go, or do I stay?<br />
<br />
Either way, I win, if You should call me home today, or on this earth You let me stay<br />
For when my life comes to an end, it's only then that it really begins, either way, I win<br />
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Heaven or earth, torn between the two, I love my precious family, but Lord, I love You too, oh yes I do<br />
<br />
Either way, I win, if You should call me home today, or on this earth You let me stay<br />
For when my life comes to an end, it's only then that it really begins, either way, I win, either way, I win<br />
<br />
Here's a video version of the song I spent way too much time working on. LOL<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzGYrNZ0uzqZtGPWPw2vXf9_DnkCI_uKc66A29dbQCfkEXLmEJWU0EgxJlao3mHf-Ykgd3lEdZK8BDystQSBg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>There were other songs with a similar thing that came after this one. God has done this before for me. He uses music all the time to catch my attention and speak to me. The verse from Psalms above and this song being the first that came on when my iPod is set to play the songs in random order is the hand of God. Call me foolish if you like. Tell me it's merely a coincidence. But I know my Lord is there and that He loves me and cares for me and speaks to me a thousand times a day in a thousand different ways.<br />
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If you're facing cancer or any other seemingly insurmountable foe, just remember that God is ALWAYS in control. And even if you lose this fight, you have already won the battle if you just trust in Him. Jesus won the war a long time ago on Calvary. Praise God!winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-43561204217050154132011-04-21T15:50:00.000-05:002011-04-21T15:50:23.033-05:00Patience...I am not a particularly patient person. (And before anyone suggests it, I am far too smart to actually ask the Lord to help me learn to be patient. Not gonna fall for THAT one! LOL) Having cancer pretty much forces a person to at least learn to accept that patience is indeed a virtue, whether you have it or not. The various treatments and tests and countless doctor's appointments leave a person with no choice but to spend a lot of time just sitting around, waiting. Chemo can take hours to get, all while sitting in a chair in a room with others who are in the exact same boat as you are. If you're at one of the larger treatment centers, this usually at least means that you have room for a companion to keep you company and a personal television to watch if that's your choice. I went to the closest treatment center I could find, which meant we were all in a tiny little room that barely had space enough for 3 treatment chairs and a medicine cabinet. I'm not exaggerating here. It's an incredibly small space. There is one television in the room that is on or off according to the whim of whoever gets there first. Which means you watch whatever they're watching, too. I saw several episodes of Bonanza, along with a few days of the new "Let's Make a Deal," "The Price is Right," and an assortment of soap operas.<br />
<img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/confused0078.gif" /><br />
Mostly I just hooked my iPad up to my headphones and listened to internet radio to drown out the TV. I'm not much of a fan of daytime television.<br />
<br />
On a quick side note, KDH is building a new hospital up on top of the hill in Madison and the Cancer Treatment Center will be getting a new facility as well. Hopefully one that will give the nurses more room to work and the patients more room to relax during treatment. I certainly don't want to give the impression that I am anything but grateful for all those who took care of me during my treatment. As small as the KDH treatment center is, everyone there is beyond kind and caring. And while the size of the current center does make it difficult if you're hoping to have a friend or loved one present with you during treatment, that's hardly a reason to refuse to go there. Hopefully the new center will make it easier for everyone; nurses, patients, and the doctor as well. It's all due to be completed in approximately a year.<br />
<br />
So, while I am not an inherently patient person, I have learned to tolerate the waiting. I have to say that having my iPad helped tremendously. It made it possible for me to listen to music, read, play cards, do crosswords, and countless other things while I was sitting there. Not to mention that I also use it to keep track of all my medical info. It's one piece of technology that has made my life easier and more convenient. Love the thing!<br />
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I've said all this to get to the point that despite almost a year of having to wait for one thing or another, I'm still not a patient person. I get antsy when I have to wait for something. Well, I get antsy when waiting for test results. I've done plenty of this already. From the day my OB/GYN first found the lump right on up until now, waiting to get some test and then waiting to get the results has been an ongoing theme. I don't really worry about what will be found. There's no point in that. From day one I've trusted that whatever came, God would get me through it. (And He certainly has!) But I'm a person who hates not KNOWING what I'm facing. It isn't that I think having knowledge will somehow change things, I just like being informed. I like knowing what's coming, good or bad. I am certainly not one of those people who would be comfortable burying my head in the sand and hoping for the best. I don't care if I'm facing a nightmare so long as I can go into it knowing what's ahead. This is why I researched every aspect of my cancer until I was going cross-eyed from reading. It's why I studied and read up on what the worst case scenario might be even before getting an official cancer diagnosis and stage. Having the info doesn't change what's coming, but it makes it easier for me to face it, I guess.<br />
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It has occurred to me that this could be part of the lesson I should be learning from this whole experience. Facing something WITHOUT knowing what to expect might just be the whole point. I'm sure God wants me to learn to trust Him fully, to rest in Him and not be so anxious even when I don't have a clue as to what I might be facing down the road. I'm trying to do that, Lord, I promise.<br />
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Okay, back to the issue that has me thinking about this in the first place. I had genetic testing done last week to see if I carry the currently recognized genes that are tied to breast cancer. It must be stated that geneticists believe that the handful of genes that are currently recognized are merely the tip of the iceberg, meaning that eventually there will be many, many more that will be found. So even if someone tests negative with the current BRAC Analysis, that doesn't mean they don't have some kind of genetic anomaly. It just means that if you're positive, then you have some serious thinking to do. I got the call yesterday afternoon that the results of my test are in. We weren't here at the time and by the time we got home, they were gone for the day, so I had to call the office first thing this morning. My radiation oncologist - Dr. Eileen McGarvey, whom I really like - prefers to sit down face to face to discuss the results. On the one hand, this is what I love about her. She's my kind of doctor, meaning she gives a lot of information about whatever it is she's explaining to you. My surgeon - Dr. Amy Gefaldi - is the same way. Love them both! On the other hand, this means I have to wait until tomorrow to see her and get the results of the test. And so, here I am, feeling antsy and hyper and just wishing I knew what they'd found so I could know if I'm going to be facing more testing and/or possibly surgeries, or if I will just be doing the regular routine of preventative healthcare in the future. The anxiousness won't change a thing, but I can't seem to help feeling it. Here's what I'm looking at:<br />
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If the test is positive, then I have to sit down and consider how I want to handle it. Being positive means I would be at a higher risk for not only another breast cancer, but ovarian cancer as well. That can be handled a number of ways. I could get more frequent testing, which would include regular monthly breast self exams and a breast exam performed by my doctor twice a year. The heightened risk of ovarian cancer would mean having ovarian ultrasounds twice a year. Of course these tests would be in addition to standards like a yearly pap smear and mammogram. These are what would be considered the most conservative options. From them we swing to the other side of the pendulum where we find more radical options. I could have a bilateral mastectomy, which would obviously reduce the chances of another breast cancer. Besides this surgery, I would have to decide on what kind of reconstruction I would want. More surgeries. And then there is the option to remove my ovaries, which would significantly reduce my chances of developing ovarian cancer. Significant meaning 75% to 90% less chance of getting it. Of course that means entering menopause for good, which would come with some issues of its own.<br />
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If the test comes up negative, that unfortunately doesn't mean I'm necessarily off the hook. As I said, the genes that are tested for are just the ones which have been definitively connected to breast cancer. I could be negative for them and positive for one that hasn't been mapped yet. Then again, the fact is that any one of us could be a cancer time bomb just waiting to go off. I've had it once, which means I'm more likely to get it again, but that's not such a big deal when you consider that everyone is cancer free until they aren't any more. Basically, cancer is like any other illness or accident or tragedy that might come upon anyone at any time with no warning at all. We can't lock ourselves in our houses and hide. We have to just live our lives and take on the challenges when they come our way.<br />
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It would probably make things easier if I wasn't always feeling so impatient. I see the doctor tomorrow morning to find out my test results. Between now and then I'm going to do my best to not stew on it. Like I said, it's not that I'm worried about what I'll hear. Either way, it's out of my control. But I hate the waiting. I want to get on with whatever will be coming next. [sigh] While I won't pray for patience, I will (and do) pray for peace and strength to not give in to my flawed nature. I'll be back tomorrow to let everyone know what the results are and what the next steps will be. Until then, keep on trusting God. I know I will!winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3537168462652802737.post-65881337042025529492011-04-15T23:16:00.000-05:002011-04-15T23:16:48.432-05:00NO MORE RADIATION!!!!<img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/bliss.gif" /><img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/greenstars.gif" /><img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/19.gif" /><img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/dancegirl2.gif" /><img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/19.gif" /><img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/greenstars.gif" /><img border="0" src="http://www.pic4ever.com/images/bliss.gif" /><br />
It's finally over! I got my LAST radiation treatment today. I even got a Certificate of Completion, LOL. Coincidentally, the other side of the office, the medical oncology office was having an open house to celebrate the completion of the remodeling on their office. They had balloons, punch and cookies. So I got my last treatment, then picked up some punch and cookies on the way out the door. Mark and I are going to go out to celebrate on his next day off.<br />
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My radiation burns are slightly worse, now, but should be improved within a few days. There's a large burn beneath my arm and the area in the crease beneath my breast is raw. It's uncomfortable, but if you saw the photos from my last post you know that it could always be worse. I keep it covered with ointment and that helps.<br />
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I had the genetic test done last Wednesday and should get the results some time in the next couple of weeks. If it's positive then I'll have some decisions to make, but I'm not going to think about that until it comes. I got my herceptin yesterday (Thursday) so that means I don't have anything medical to do until May 3! I go then to get another MUGA (heart) scan. If my heart function has dropped again, we may suspend the herceptin treatments for a while or even stop them completely. Like the genetic test, I'm not going to worry about it until I have to. I'm just planning to enjoy the time off. The past seven weeks have been hectic and I'm very glad they're over.<br />
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On a completely different note, we're in the market for a new microwave since ours suddenly gave up the ghost a couple of days ago. Right out of the blue it just stopped working. No warning. The lights and vent and everything still function just fine, but the magnetron has apparently gone out because it no longer actually heats food. It's not like I actually do a lot of cooking with the microwave. I cook rice in it and Mark heats up canned pasta in it when he's in a hurry to eat. I'm perfectly capable of cooking everything on the stove, but now we HAVE to cook everything on the stove. We've turned it into a running joke that we're having to do everything the "old" way. I actually had to put a frozen package of hot dogs into a bowl of water yesterday so Mark could grill them out! Oh, the horror! LOL I think I miss the defrost capabilities of the thing most of all. So it looks like we'll be having a combo End of Radiation Celebration and microwave shopping session all at the same time.<br />
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I'm planning to rest for the next few days, though, and just enjoy not having to get up every morning to head to Madison to get my boob microwaved.<br />
<a href="http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys.php" title="Smiley"><img alt="Smiley" border="0" src="http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys/smiley-laughing024.gif" /></a>winsomebulldoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03199345831147984626noreply@blogger.com0