Journey Out of Pink

 I was reading a cancer forum the other day and one of the participants posed a thought - "I always wondered how the doctor felt just before he told me I had cancer." As I read her words, I was stunned. I'd never given much thought to the doctor's feelings and I certainly hadn't considered his point of view. But as I began to think back to that fateful June day in 2014, I did my best to imagine the scenario.  He stands outside a solid wooden door fingering the results of her recent biopsy. The news is not good.  He wipes beads of sweat from his brow as he waits, listening. Inside the room, he hears the crinkle of the exam table paper shift beneath her wait.  How long has she been waiting? Fifteen minutes, thirty? It must seem like an eternity to her.  Slowly, he reaches out and takes the doorknob in his hand. As he gently turns it, he pulls slightly allowing the bright light from the room to filter into the hallway. He should have knocked first. In his haste, he&#

There are four words in Psalm 46 that seem to be a command - “Be still, and know..."   As I think back to my eighth grade English days and re-read those words, I understand there's an indirect subject there - "You, be still and know." And if I break it down further, I can personalize it - "You, Bonnie, be still and know." Inserting your own name, the 4 words become even more powerful. But that's not the entire passage. Here's what it says in its entirety: "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress." Psalm 46:1-3, 10-11 NIV As I write, the world is still in the throws of the COVID-19 pandemic. Lives have been turned upside down and many have contracted the coronavirus. Thousands have died. And all of us have been impacted in some way. Responses to the virus have covered a wide spectrum. Some deny the seriousness o

  It all began around March 11th when the pandemic arrived. It seemed we were all living the same nightmare and although everyone wanted to wake up, they couldn't.  When people began to panic things got crazy. People holed up in their houses in quarantine. Hoarders began hoarding toilet paper. Homemakers began sewing face masks and we all became instant germophobes.  We sat glued to our televisions as daily updates came in. President Trump, Dr. Anthony Fauci, and others emphasized the seriousness of the China virus and we became concerned.   Our vocabulari

This morning, during my quiet time, I was in the book of Philippians. A verse in chapter one caught my attention: : For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him." This is a rather unsettling verse. Paul says it has been granted unto us to believe in Christ and also to suffer for him. Few believers probably have any issue with the first half but with the second half, that's a different story. The word “granted” means “to show favor, grant, bestow, graciously confer." We've been given the privilege of suffering for Christ. Now generally we don’t think of suffering as a privilege. But Paul does. Why? Perhaps it has to do with the suffering Christ did for us on the cross. Since He underwent such agonizing pain and suffering for us, shouldn't we be willing to gratefully accept suffering into our lives? Suffering is never pleasant, but the Bible tells us in 2 Timothy 3:12 "all who wo

Bonnie has the rabbit pin on her shirt   Today is the third anniversary of my friend, Bonnie's death. A post I'd written about it popped up in my Facebook memories. I'd almost forgotten about today being the anniversary of her death, but Facebook is so good to remind me year after year.  It's so hard to make sense of cancer. When my friend, Bonnie Ferguson, and I met, shortly after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, she told me she was a 22 year survivor. That gave me such hope. My diagnosis was barely two weeks prior and I was so scared. Knowing that she'd beaten breast cancer helped me be less fearful.  But then, at the midpoint of my radiation treatments, Bonnie began to come and go more frequently. I'd see her little golf cart coming up the gravel road by our house and I wondered where she was going. One day, on her way back from the produce market down the road, she saw me out in the yard and stopped to give me some tomatoes. We talked for a few minutes an

Tuesday thoughts: (in case you'd like something to focus on other than all the political mess!)   I don't remember when he first started it, but my Daddy loved to take measurements of his children as they grew. Just inside the entry way to our kitchen, on a piece molding, he'd record each number. One by one, he'd call us to him, then, taking a wooden ruler, he'd place it tenderly on top of each head and make a mark on the molding with number 2 pencil.    Back then, we didn't think much about it. It was just a routine occurrence in our home. I don't know about my siblings, but I used to think everyone's father did the same thing.    As we grew older, the marks on the wooden molding made their way farther up the wall. It was fun to pass by and see how much taller I was than my brother and sister, for a while.    Many years later, as my siblings and I began having our children, Daddy continued the process with them sliding their measurements in between ours

Months ago, I was contacted by a woman I'd met on our trip to Israel. She explained she'd started a tradition of gathering family members together and having them participate in some sort of art project. She'd only done it once before, but thought it would be something worth continuing after last year's success. I thought it was a neat idea and immediately agreed to be the 2020 artist. After agreeing to lead the class, I asked for details. What did she want me to do? How many people would be in the class? Etc. Etc. I came up with a lesson plan and purchased supplies. As the time drew near for teaching the lesson, I became very fearful and felt ill equipped. Satan was doing a number on me and I asked some of my online friends to pray. The day of the event, my husband I drove to North Georgia, van loaded with easel and boxes of art supplies. Arriving at the church, we set up in the fellowship hall and watched as her family members began to arrive. I knew the group would b

This morning I was thinking about the home I grew up in. It was an old cinder block home, nothing fancy, in fact it was an architect's final build in order to get his license to build.    Inside that house, on the second story, inside the bottom cabinet of the bathroom was a laundry chute. Those weren't too popular in the late 50s and early 60s, but we had one. My brother, sister, and I thought it was great. Though it was built for convenience, we used it for sending toys and other things down into the laundry area of our carport.    I can still remember standing over the top of the chute, hands ready to let some precious cargo speed down the chute while yelling "Bombs away!" And I can still see the wide eyes of my sibling peering up through the chute at me, waiting to retrieve the payload.    Those days were filled with childhood fun. We made good use of that laundry chute, but so did Mama. It made her life easier not to have to carry loads of clothing down our long