Healing After Cancer Doesn’t Have to Be Pretty to Be Progress

A cancer survivor reflects on body image, grief and emotional healing 12 years after treatment, and why healing doesn’t have to be perfect to be real.

I recently finished reading All That Fills Us by Autumn Lytle, a poignant novel about a young woman named Mel who is struggling with anorexia. She makes an extraordinary decision to hike from Grand Rapids, Michigan, to Mount Rainier, Washington, and along the way she encounters people who become unexpected parts of her healing. Some provide food when she desperately needs nourishment, others offer kindness when she needs compassion, and still others help her see truths about herself that she couldn't see on her own. As I read, I realized that Mel's journey wasn't really just about hiking across the country. It was about learning to live in a body she had struggled to accept and discovering that healing involves much more than simply becoming physically healthy.

When I reached Chapter 31, something happened that I wasn't expecting. Mel is talking with an older woman named Sandra, who tells her about the loss of her young son and the pain she continues to carry because of it. As Mel listens, she begins to connect Sandra's grief with her own pain, the loss of identity she has experienced, and the struggle she has faced with her health and her body. Then Sandra says something that reached right through the pages of that book and touched a place inside me that I apparently wasn't finished dealing with. She tells Mel, “I think we're both going to heal, Mel. I just have a feeling.” Mel responds, “It won't be pretty.” Sandra answers, “No, but it'll be progress. And that's what matters, right?”

I cried because suddenly I wasn't reading about Mel anymore. I was thinking about myself, and about the twelve years that have passed since cancer took my breasts. Twelve years is a long time, and I have spent those years being incredibly grateful to be alive. I celebrate every cancer-free anniversary. I am grateful for ordinary mornings, family gatherings, laughter, photographs, grandchildren growing older, and all the little things I might have missed if cancer had written a different ending to my story. I know what a gift it is to still be here, and I never want my gratitude to be mistaken for anything less than genuine. But that doesn't mean cancer didn't leave wounds that aren't visible.

The Wounds No One Can See

Physically, I have healed in many ways. The surgery is behind me, the treatments are behind me, and the years have carried me farther and farther away from that frightening chapter of my life. My body has endured and adapted, and there are days when cancer feels like something that happened a lifetime ago. But emotional healing has been different.

Even after twelve years, I still struggle with body image. I still have moments when I look in the mirror and feel less than whole. I still sometimes think about the body I had before cancer and wonder what it would be like to have never lost such an important part of myself. Maybe you've felt that way too.

Maybe you have looked in a mirror and seen the scar before you've seen the woman who survived. Maybe you've put on clothes and become painfully aware of what cancer changed. Maybe you've avoided photographs, struggled with intimacy, felt uncomfortable in a swimsuit, or wondered if you are still beautiful. Maybe people around you think you should be completely over it because your treatments ended years ago, while you know there are still tender places inside you that haven't completely healed. If that's you, I want you to know that you aren't doing anything wrong.

Healing Doesn't Mean Going Back

For a long time, I thought healing meant eventually reaching a place where cancer no longer affected me emotionally. I thought that if enough years passed, perhaps I would wake up one morning and simply feel like the woman I was before cancer.

But I'm beginning to understand that maybe healing isn't about going backward. Maybe it isn't about becoming who we were before our diagnosis. Maybe healing is about learning to love and accept the woman who emerged from everything we endured.

There is something else I have learned along the way: gratitude and grief can exist in the same heart. I can be profoundly grateful that cancer didn't take my life while still mourning what it took from me. I can celebrate being cancer-free while acknowledging that I don't always feel comfortable in the body cancer left behind. I can thank God for another year of life while admitting that there are still days when I feel less than whole.

Those feelings don't cancel each other out. They simply remind me that surviving something doesn't mean we stop being human.

Cancer Recovery Isn't Measured Only in Years

We often measure cancer recovery by numbers. Five years. Ten years. Twelve years. We celebrate the anniversaries, the clear scans, the good reports, and the increasing distance between ourselves and the day we first heard the word cancer. Those milestones are important, and we should celebrate every one of them.

But perhaps we don't talk enough about what happens after the celebration is over, when everyone else assumes the story has ended and we're still trying to figure out who we are.

Because cancer doesn't always end when treatment ends.

Sometimes it continues in the way we see ourselves. Sometimes it continues in the questions we don't say out loud.

Am I still beautiful? Am I still feminine? Am I still desirable? Am I still the same woman? Will I ever stop thinking about what I lost? Will I ever look at my body and see something other than the evidence of what happened to me?

Progress Doesn't Have to Be Pretty

I don't have all the answers, but Sandra's words gave me a new way to think about those questions.

Maybe healing doesn't have to be pretty. Maybe I don't need to reach some imaginary finish line where every scar has lost its meaning, and every insecurity has disappeared. Maybe healing can be messy and slow and complicated.

Maybe there will be days when I feel strong and days when I feel vulnerable. Maybe there will be times when I think I've finally made peace with something and then find myself crying over it again.

That doesn't mean I've failed. It means I'm still healing.

And maybe progress looks different for each of us. For one woman, progress might be standing in front of the mirror without criticizing what she sees. For another, it might be wearing something she once believed she could never wear again. It might be allowing herself to be photographed, becoming comfortable with intimacy, touching a scar without looking away, or simply believing for one more day that she is beautiful exactly as she is.

Sometimes progress is obvious, and sometimes it is so small that no one else would recognize it.

But small progress is still progress.

You Don't Have to Be "Over It"

So, dear survivor, if you are still struggling with the emotional wounds cancer left behind, please don't be ashamed of that. Don't tell yourself that you should be over it simply because a certain number of years have passed. Don't feel guilty because you are grateful to be alive and still miss the body you had before cancer. Don't believe that acknowledging your pain somehow diminishes your survival.

You are allowed to celebrate how far you've come while admitting that there are still places where you hurt.

I am learning to give myself that same grace.

Cancer Doesn't Get the Final Word

Twelve years after cancer, I'm still learning that my worth was never determined by the parts of my body cancer took away. My femininity didn't disappear with my breasts. My ability to love didn't disappear. My ability to laugh, to encourage someone else, to write, to create, to worship, to hold the people I love close, and to experience the beauty of another ordinary day didn't disappear.

Cancer changed my body, but it did not get the final word about who I am.

Perhaps that's what healing looks like for me now, not becoming the woman I was before cancer, but learning to embrace the woman I became because I survived it. I may never look at my body exactly the way I did before, and perhaps I don't have to.

Maybe I can learn to look at myself with more compassion, recognizing that every scar tells a story, every missing piece represents something I endured, and every day I am here is evidence that cancer didn't win.

Keep Moving Forward

When I think back to Sandra's words now, I understand why they made me cry.

“It won't be pretty” gave me permission to stop expecting my healing to look perfect.

“But it'll be progress” reminded me that I don't have to be completely healed to be healing. I only have to keep moving forward, even when forward looks more like a slow step than a great leap.

So, if you're reading this and wondering why you still struggle after all these years, I hope you'll be gentle with yourself. Maybe you aren't behind. Maybe you aren't broken. Maybe you aren't failing to heal.

Maybe you're simply still on the journey, and maybe the woman you're becoming is worth every imperfect step along the way.

I don't know what the next twelve years will bring, and I don't know whether I will ever reach a place where I can honestly say that every emotional wound left by cancer has completely healed.

But I do know this now: healing doesn't have to be beautiful to be real, and it doesn't have to be complete to be meaningful.

It won't be pretty, dear survivor, but it will be progress, and perhaps the most beautiful part of all is discovering that even after cancer changes your body, your life, and your sense of yourself, there is still a woman inside you who is learning, growing, and becoming whole in ways cancer could never take away.

Remembering 12 years ago

Looking back to June 22, 2014- 

I've been through a gamut of emotions since receiving my Breast Cancer diagnosis. I've been sad, I've been angry, I've been depressed. I've been confused, I've been bewildered, I've been numb. I'm sure if I Googled "range of emotions related to Breast Cancer diagnosis" I'd receive a long list of psychological reports and studies that have been created but, I don't have to do that. I've lived through them over the past weeks. Yesterday, I dealt with anger and defeat. Today, I am adopting determination! What, you don't think determination is an emotion? Maybe not. Perhaps determination is just anger with a goal in mind, in any event, I'm headed in that direction.

Determination runs in my family. My mother always said I was very determined. If there were cookies in the jar and I wanted one, even if I'd been told not to touch them, I would figure out a way to reach that jar and grab a cookie. As a child, if you told me I couldn't do something, I went about proving that I could. As an adult, if I was told I couldn't do something, I took on the challenge and found a way to prove the naysayers wrong. I guess you could say the characteristics of determination have been part of my character from the very beginning. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know how to set goals and achieve them.

I see determination in my children, too. When Laura, my middle daughter, was a child, she portrayed her determination in what Dr. James Dobson liked to call a "strong willed child." From the time she was an infant, we knew she was different. Some said she had a big temper and used it to get what she wanted, but I knew she was just determined. She knew exactly what she wanted and she was going to find a way to get it. We used to laugh when she'd kick and scream and cry in frustration at not being able to do what she wanted to do. But her determination has taken her through challenges in life and she's turned out just fine.

This morning, I watched my granddaughter, Heather, as she tried to get the child lock off of my kitchen cabinet door. She shook it and pulled on it, trying her best to figure out a way to make it let go. I could see the determination in her face as her little lip was pulled back and held tight by tiny baby teeth.  Laura looked down at her and said "she's determined to get that thing off!" I smiled knowing that determination indeed has passed from one generation to another. Determination isn't a bad character trait to have, is it?

Like a horse with blinders on, determination has caused me to see the finish line. I see myself headed toward the gate. Today, I'm going to "pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again!" I am determined to get through this Cancer journey and do it well.

My life has suddenly gone from black and white to hi-res color. Instead of focusing on the entire journey ahead, I've decided to live in the moment. A dear friend told me recently that wherever I am, that's where I'll be. She said I need to take a look at my feet and realize that at that very moment in time, I am in that place and nothing but that time and place matter. I have never thought of living life that way before. I've always been a long range planner, a goal setter, a mover and a shaker. Can I learn to live in the moment? I think I can.

As I look down at my feet right now, I see that I am in my office. My feet are firmly planted in the lush carpet of my home. Underneath the carpet is a solid foundation of cement, the slab of my home. Underneath the slab is the beautiful grass covered earth that God created and underneath all of that, is the solid rock of Jesus Christ. He is the only foundation that is unmoveable and unshakeable. No amount of determination can ever change the fact that He holds me firmly in the palm of His mighty hands.

The dog days are over! It's time to move full steam ahead. Determination is going to carry me forward, over, around, under, and through the next stage of my journey. Cancer you may think you've won. You may think you're going to run rampant through my body but I say no! I am going to fight you with everything that is within me. You have no idea what kind of fight I'm going to give you! Radiation, bring it on. Hormone therapy...got that. And if, and when, I'm told I have to have Chemo, well...I'll push through it too.

We are a family of fighters. We are determined. We find a way. I'm not going down without a fight and I'm not going to allow myself to feel defeated again.

"I press on toward the goal to win the [supreme and heavenly] prize to which God in Christ Jesus is calling us upward." Philippians 3:14

"But the firm foundation of (laid by) God stands, sure and unshaken, bearing this seal (inscription): The Lord knows those who are His, and, Let everyone who names [himself by] the name of the Lord give up all iniquity and stand aloof from it." 2 Timothy 2:19

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9-10

Epilogue

Looking back now, I smile when I read these words. At the time, I had no idea what the journey ahead would require of me. There would be surgeries, treatments, exhaustion, tears, and victories I couldn't yet imagine. There would be days when determination carried me and days when only God's strength was enough.

But the woman who wrote these words on June 22, 2014, was right about one thing—she wasn't going down without a fight.

Cancer didn't have the final word.

God did.

Today, I live with gratitude that only a survivor can fully understand. Every ordinary morning, every family gathering, every devotional I write, every photograph I take, and every grandchild's laugh reminds me that life is a gift. The determination that carried me through treatment has become something even stronger: quiet confidence in the faithfulness of God.

He never left me. Not once.

The Anchor of Hope

There is something deeply peaceful about being on the water. Whether it’s the wide openness of the ocean or the gentle expanse of a lake, I’ve always loved the rhythm beneath a boat—the steady rise and fall, the soft lapping of water against the hull. Out there, worries seem quieter. Life slows down. Breathing comes easier.

Yet even in that calm, there’s comfort in knowing one important thing: the boat has an anchor.

An anchor is not flashy. It isn’t admired the way polished rails or a smooth motor might be. Most of the time, it’s hidden beneath the surface, unseen and unnoticed. But when the wind picks up, when the current shifts, or when you need to stay right where you are, the anchor becomes everything. Heavy. Sure. Dependable. It keeps the boat from drifting away.

My brother understood that well. After years of waiting, he finally got his pontoon boat—a dream realized. He loved taking it out on big lakes like Lake Oconee, fishing all day, enjoying the stillness and the space. The size of the boat gave a sense of stability, but even then, the anchor mattered. Without it, the boat would slowly wander, carried by forces he couldn’t control.

When we were younger, my brother and I spent time in a canoe. That boat was far less steady. We felt every ripple, every shift in weight. But even then, if we wanted to remain in one place—to rest, to fish, to simply be—we could lower an anchor. That small act made all the difference. It allowed us to stop drifting and stay grounded, even in a boat that felt vulnerable.

Scripture tells us that our hope in Christ functions the same way.

Hebrews 6:19–20 (AMP) describes hope as “a safe and steadfast anchor of the soul,” a hope that does not slip or break under pressure, but reaches beyond what we can see—into the very presence of God. This hope is not wishful thinking. It is not shallow optimism. It is anchored in Jesus Himself, who has gone before us and secured our place with God.

Life has currents. Some are gentle, others relentless. There are seasons when everything feels calm and predictable, and others when we realize just how easily we could drift—away from peace, away from trust, away from truth. Without an anchor, even the most beautiful boat will wander.

Hope in Christ doesn’t mean we never feel the movement of the water. It doesn’t mean storms won’t come. But it does mean we are not at the mercy of every wave. Our anchor holds. When we need to stay still, it keeps us grounded. When it’s time to move forward, it reminds us where our security truly lies—not in the boat, not in the water, but in what holds us fast beneath the surface.

That is the kind of hope my soul needs: heavy enough to hold, sure enough to trust, and anchored beyond what my eyes can see.

Prayer

Lord,
Thank You for being the anchor of my soul. When life feels unsteady and the currents pull in directions I didn’t expect, remind me that my hope is secure in You. Help me trust what I cannot see and rest in what You have already done. Keep me from drifting away from Your truth, Your peace, and Your presence. May my life reflect a quiet confidence that comes from being firmly anchored in Christ.
Amen.

Losing a Friend is Never Easy

Today a sweet friend of mine went home to be with the Lord. My heart is saddened by his passing, but I know his worn and weary body is completely healed now. 

C.G. was 97 years old and had been married to his highschool sweetheart, Earlene, for 70 years! Please keep her in your prayers. 

Both C.G. and Earlene loved their family and friends deeply, but loved the Lord most of all. 

They were simple people who enjoyed gardening and serving their community. They also were huge fans of the Georgia Gym Dogs and loved taking others to their meets. 

Many tears have fallen today because of a deep loss, but God has collected every one and stored them in His bottle. 

I take comfort knowing I'll see C.G. again one day. I'm so thankful he loved Jesus. 

The Word Became Flesh

At Christmas, we celebrate more than a birth in a manger. We celebrate a miracle so profound that human language strains to contain it—God became flesh and dwelt among us. This holy mystery is called the Incarnation, and it is the heartbeat of the Christmas story.

John opens his Gospel with words that echo all the way back to creation itself:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)

The Greek word used here for “Word” is logos. It is far richer than a simple spoken word. Logos means reason, expression, explanation, and divine revelation. Jesus was not merely someone who spoke God’s words—He was God’s Word made visible. God’s message to the world arrived not as ink on a page, but as a living, breathing Savior.

When the angel told Mary she would carry the Christ child, her faithful response was simple and profound:

“May your word to me be fulfilled.” (Luke 1:38)

In that verse, the verb form of logos is used—lego, meaning “to speak” or even “to count.” It’s almost like fitting one block upon another, piece by piece, trusting the design will stand. Mary didn’t have all the details, but she trusted the Builder. And with her humble yes, the eternal Word stepped into time.

From the very beginning, God has always worked through His Word. In Genesis, we see that creation itself came into being not through force, but through speech. “And God said…” and it was so. Light. Land. Life. All formed by the power of His Word. And at Christmas, that same powerful Word took on skin and bones and a heartbeat.

Christmas is not ultimately about trees or gatherings or wrapped gifts under twinkling lights. It is about the God of the universe lowering Himself to dwell inside a tiny human body. Born of a virgin. Wrapped in swaddling cloths. Laying in a manger. The Creator entered His own creation.

Jesus would grow as we grow. He would feel hunger, thirst, exhaustion, pain, sorrow, and rejection. He would live in a sin-filled world and yet remain completely sinless. Then, in the greatest act of love the world has ever known, He would freely give Himself on a cross—bearing our sin, our guilt, and our shame.

And all of it—His birth, His life, His suffering, His death—was for love.

There is an old Christmas carol that captures this holy mystery beautifully. Written by H. R. Bramley, it says:

“The Word in the bliss of the Godhead remains,
Yet in flesh comes to suffer the keenest of pains;
He is that He was, and forever shall be,
But becomes that He was not, for you and for me.”

Don’t you love that?
“He becomes what He was not, for you and for me.”

This is the wonder of Christmas. The Holy became human. The Eternal stepped into time. The Word became flesh—for us.

As Christmas approaches, I hope you’ll take a few quiet moments to ponder this truth. Treasure it deeply in your heart. Let it stir your worship and soften your soul. Jesus loved us enough to become one of us.

Heavenly Father,
We bow in awe of the miracle of the Incarnation. Thank You for sending Your Son, the living Word, to dwell among us. Thank You that He became what He was not, so that we might become what we could never be without Him—redeemed, forgiven, and made whole. As we move through this Christmas season, help us to look beyond the noise and the busyness and fix our hearts on Jesus. May we never lose our wonder at the truth that You loved us enough to come near. In the precious name of Emmanuel, God with us, we pray. Amen.

 

Learning to Bend Without Breaking

 

I’ve never been one to love change. In fact, I’d rank it right up there with root canals and long lines at the DMV. Somewhere along the way, I decided that routine equals peace. My coffee mug goes in the same cabinet, my socks have their own drawer, and my favorite chair has a perfectly molded dent that fits me like an old friend. Why mess with perfection?

 

But life doesn’t consult our comfort zones before it starts rearranging things. One day you’re cruising along, windows down, music playing, and the next day—boom!—the map changes. Jobs end, kids move away, health shifts, friends drift. The seasons of life seem to come faster now, and I can’t find the pause button.

 

I used to think if everything stayed the same, I’d finally feel secure. But honestly, if nothing ever changed, we’d probably get bored out of our minds. Can you imagine living the same day on repeat forever? Even Groundhog Day had to end eventually.

 

Still, it’s strange how easy it is to find security in stability. Maybe it’s because when things are predictable, we feel like we’re in control. But the truth is, that’s just an illusion. Change reminds us—sometimes painfully—that we’re not running the show. And maybe that’s the point.

 

Growth doesn’t come from sitting still. It comes from those uncomfortable, stretching seasons that make us want to hide under the covers and wait it out. Every time life has shifted under my feet, I’ve learned something new about myself—and about God. He doesn’t just allow change; He uses it to shape us.

 

When I look back, the times I’ve grown the most were never the easy ones. They were the times I had to let go of what was and trust that something better was coming, even if it didn’t feel that way. It’s funny how we cling so tightly to what’s familiar, even when God’s trying to hand us something new.

 

So these days, I’m learning to bend a little. To roll with the punches. To laugh at the unexpected and find peace in the unknown. It’s not always easy—some days I’m more creaky oak than flexible willow—but I’m trying.

 

Because underneath all the shifting sands of life, one thing never changes: God’s faithfulness. When everything around me feels uncertain, He remains steady. That’s where true stability lives—not in my routines, not in the things I can control, but in the unchanging hands that hold it all together.

 

And maybe that’s what growing older (and hopefully wiser) is really about: learning to trust the One who never changes, even when everything else does.

 

Dear Lord, thank You for walking with me through every season of change. When life feels uncertain and the ground beneath me shifts, remind me that You are my anchor and my peace. Help me to loosen my grip on what was and open my heart to what You are doing now. Teach me to find joy in new beginnings, courage in unfamiliar places, and faith that You are working all things for my good. Even as the world changes around me, let my trust that You remain unshakable. Amen.

 

"Of old You laid the foundation of the earth,

and the heavens are the work of Your hands.

They will perish, but You will remain; they will all wear out like a garment.You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but You are the same, and Your years have no end." Psalm 102:25–27

Staying busy to keep my mind off things

My surgery date is fast approaching and I've been pretty nervous about it. I made the mistake of watching a YouTube video on the procedure and basically, they slice your leg open just above and below the knee, take an electric saw and level off your bones, then take a drill and make a hole to receive the knee implant, hammer it in and then stitch you back up. It sounds extremely painful and I'm sure it will be, otherwise, they wouldn't prescribe Oxycodone as a pain reliever. 

To take my mind off of what's coming, I've been busy around the house finding one project then the other. A few days ago, my husband and I went to a local cemetery. (We walk there daily because it's quiet and safe.) On our last walk, we noticed a large pear tree. It was full of pears. Some had already fallen on the ground and birds had been eating them. I told him it was such a waste for all of the pears to go unused. I asked if he thought anyone would mind if we picked some and he said, "Surely not." So we did. 

When we got home, I counted the number of pears in our stash - there were 40, too many to eat before they ruined so I knew I'd have to do something with the others. That's when I decided to make some pear relish. 

I spent all day washing the pears, peeling them, and cutting them up. They I had to cut the peppers and onions. After doing that, I sterilized the jars and got those ready then mixed up the rest of my recipe - the pears, onions, peppers, pickling spices, vinegar, sugar, etc., and put it on the stove to cook. When the mixture was done, I began to ladle it into jars. 

With the jars packed, lids in place, and rings finger tightened, I lowered them into my large stockpot full of boiling water. I'd had to come up with a "makeshift" canner since I gave my old one away years ago. The rack in the bottom of the stockpot was too small so I had to work at balancing the jars. I managed to get 7 in at a time. Each batch of jars had to process for 20 minutes. I had 24 jars to do so it took some time. 

When all the jars were done and I had them on the counter to set and seal, I realized my back was really hurting. Part of it was from Osteopenia (inherited from my mother), part was from standing all day, and part of it was from my jacked up knee. I asked my husband if he'd mind adjusting me. (Working for a chiropractor many years ago had given me knowledge and practical experience on spinal adjustments so I'd taught him how to do it on me.) Gladly he agreed to perform the adjustment. 

Pulling out our large bottle of DoTerra's Deep Blue, he slathered it on my back as I lay across the bed. His strong hands were quick to find the subluxations. I was out in 3 places and when he popped them back in, I felt much better, though still exhausted. 

We decided to watch a documentary on TV and relax while eating dinner. That's when I realized, I'm getting to old for this stuff. 

I used to can all sorts of things with no pain or discomfort, but now that I'm much older, it's a chore to do something like that all day long. 

Canning definitely took my mind of the surgery, but ended up making my back hurt! As we sat and watched the show, I enjoyed a heating pad against my spine.  

I hope the people I gift the relish to will enjoy it. I'm sure they won't have a clue how much time and energy went into it, and that's okay. Every time I open a jar, I'll remember why I decided to make it in the first place - to take my mind off of the extreme pain I was about to experience, but hopefully, I'll heal quickly and be able to do things I haven't been able to enjoy in some time. 

It's important to always look for the positive in the negative. This is a lesson God's had me learning since the first of the year. If we always dwell on the negatives, we'll go deeper and deeper into a pit that eventually will lead to a pity party. I don't want to be that person. I'd rather shift my focus and think about the good things that will come from the surgery, so I've made a list: 

1. I'll be able to walk without constant swelling and pain. 

2. I'll be able to do more hiking - something I enjoy immensely. 

3. I'll be able to walk the cruise ship more easily in December than I did in January. 

4. I won't have to constantly wear an offloading knee brace to do normal, everyday tasks. 

Yes, it will take some time, a lot of physical therapy, and a lot of willpower, but I can do it! I have many friends and family members already praying for me and that's going to make all the difference. 

That old saying, "No pain, no gain," keeps sticking in my head, but even more so, the verse of Scripture found in Philippians 4:13 - "I can do all things through Christ Who gives me strength." He's going to be a whole lot more reliable than any brace, walker, crutch, or cane could ever be. And that gives me the confidence to move forward.   

Shifting focus

These past few days it's been rainy and dreary here. Those gray days can cause people to become depressed and I've found, if I'm not careful, I can fall into that trap easily. That's why I make sure to turn on more lights and find something to do to keep my mind busy. Instead of looking at those rainy days as bothersome or in a negative light, I'm trying to shift my focus so that I see things like that as blessings. My new motto for this year has become "Look for the positive in the negative." 

Adopting that motto hasn't been easy, in fact, it's been quite difficult. I've been dealing with a lot of health challenges this year and if I'm honest, there's been a lot of negativity with those. I have to choose to look for positive things each day. Doing that helps. If I didn't look for good things to focus on, I'd be a mess!

I'm thankful I have a strong faith. God has given me the strength to endure so much over the past 12 years. Without Him, I would never be able to find positivity in negative situations. 

There are so many old sayings that deal with the topic of positive vs. negative:  

"Look on the bright side"

"Every cloud has a silver lining" 

I could go on and on, but you get the idea. 

Why is it so easy to focus on the negative? I don't know, but I think it may have to do with the fact that we're weak humans. Some people are born with rose colored glasses on. I used to call myself a Pollyanna, but the older I get and the more aches and pains I have, I don't call myself that anymore. In fact, my rose colored glasses are currently sitting on a file cabinet in my office. As I type this, I can see them out of the corner of my eye. (Yes, I really do have a pair of rose colored glasses! I bought them so I could wear them on bleak days and remind myself to look for good things.) 

If you've never worn rose colored glasses, you should try it. Looking out through soft pink lenses changes your perspective drastically. I really like them and if I was brave enough, I'd have my prescription lenses tinted with pink so I could wear them every day. Maybe one day in the future, I'll do it! 

Something that's helped me is to keep a small gratitude list each day. At the end of the day, I try to find 3 things that were positive from the day. As I write them down, I also make sure to share them with a friend and she shares hers with me. It's become a wonderful way to end the day. 

Positivity is definitely more fun than negativity! If you're struggling, try doing the gratitude thing. At the end of your day, think about it. Were there 3 things that you enjoyed or felt had been small blessings? If so, write them down. Do this exercise for a month and see if it doesn't help you. I think it will. 

Simple things can spark big memories

 

On Resurrection Sunday, one of the most holy days for believers, we made plans to attend one of my daughter's churches. It was also going to be a very special day for me because my youngest granddaughter was getting baptized. 

 

As I got ready for church, I was going to wear a dress. Since the weather had turned warmer, there was no need to wear slacks anymore. But there was a problem. My legs were lily white. I hadn't been in the sun much and those limbs would be visible, even if I wore a mid-length skirt as I usually did.

Digging in my drawer, I looked for a pair of panty hose. I hadn't wore any in ages. I hated them! No luck. So what was I to do? Tights, yes! I had a pair of black ones. 

 

I took them out and looked at them. They'd only been worn once. They were thin, more like hose than regular tights which were thicker. I knew, with my rough hands, I'd surely snag them when donning them, so I dug in the drawer again. I knew they were in there somewhere...my mother's satin gloves.

When we were growing up, I used to laugh as I'd walk by her bedroom door as she got dressed for church. She'd be wiggling into her panty hose trying not to snag them. After getting a run or two, she'd throw those away and then, she'd slip on a pair of satin gloves and start over smiling as she pulled them on without any issues. Afterward she'd don a griddle so cinch in her waist and hips. Boy, she went all out to look her best, even though it took a great deal of effort to prepare before hurrying us all into the car so we wouldn't be late. 

 

As I slipped on the gloves, I thought of all the Easters she worked so hard to make ours special. We always got frilly little dresses, lace topped socks, and shiny, black patent leather shoes. My brother got a cute little suit and tie. We looked polished and spit shined when we graced the church doors. 

 

After service, we had an Easter egg hunt with homemade boiled dyed eggs. Often we'd have a prize egg with a dollar or two in it. And those baskets with the skinny plastic green grass- so special! 

 

I got my tights on without a snag and headed out to my daughter's church for a most special service. Watching my sweet granddaughter descend into the baptismal pool, stand with the pastor and pray, then be dunked beneath the refreshing waters was amazing. But what touched my heart most was watching her rise, thankful...renewed...spiritually one with Christ. 

 

After her Mama had gotten her dried off and dressed again, she came out from behind the baptistry and had given me the bestest and biggest hug ever. "I love you so much, Sweet Pea," I whispered in her ear. Then I handed her a gift bag with a tiny silver cross inside. I told her I wanted her to wear it to remind her of this special day - the day she was baptized, but also the day we celebrated the resurrection of our Lord. She smiled and gave me another hug before telling me she loved me, too. 

 

I could almost see Mama smiling down from heaven. I was thankful she'd made sure to always see that we'd grown up under godly teaching. Being raised in the church is special, but learning who we were in Christ was even more important. And we did! 

 

I am so blessed all of my children and most of my grandchildren have already made professions of faith. We're still praying for the youngest ones to come to a saving knowledge of the Lord. If you have unsaved loves ones, please don't ever stop praying for them. It make take years for them to make the decision to let the Lord reign and rule over their lives. Your prayers can make a huge impact on them, but your godly example can speak volumes to them, too. And who knows, maybe something as simple as a satin pair of gloves will bring back special memories to them one day like my Mama's did for me. Love them hard and don't apologize for it, ever.

An unexpected blessing

This morning was my annual visit to the oncologist. For the past week, I've been dreading it and no matter how hard I tried to think positively, it seemed the louder the devil's whispers became - "So what if you've been cancer free for 11 years. You don't know if it won't ever come back again. When you least expect it, it could pop back into your life." And then I could almost hear an evil laughter in the background. I knew those were only lies of the enemy. I was a child of God and I trusted Him to keep me in the palm of His hands no matter what. If He chose to let cancer back into my life, He'd equip me to fight it. If He choose to keep me cancer free for the rest of my life, then I would continually thank and praise Him for His goodness and mercy. Either way, I had to have faith and I had to have hope. 

My appointment was at 10:00 AM but I woke at 5:00 AM. I was nervous. Every time I've gone in in the past, I've felt pretty certain I was going to get good results on my CA19 and CA125 blood work. (Those are tests that are specific to cancer antigens in the blood.) And so far, I've been right. So why was I so nervous this time? Maybe it was because of something that popped up in my Facebook feed the other day. It was a photo and reminder of a friend of mine who'd lived 22 years cancer free and then suddenly her cancer returned and took her life. Experiencing that with her helped me see one was never truly free from a fear of recurrence. 

Bonnie Ferguson, my friend 

After rising, I grabbed my ear buds and pulled up an audio book I'd borrowed from the library. Lying back down in bed, I lay listening to the story as I tried to still my mind. After a couple of hours, I decided to get up and have some coffee. I needed the energy boost. When I'd finished the last drop, I told my husband I was going to get dressed and ready for the appointment.  

As I put on my makeup, I couldn't help looking in the mirror and thinking, "What would I do if they said my numbers were high? How would I react? Would I agree to take chemo this time?" The thoughts kept coming as I worked. Feeling overly anxious, I ate an Ashwaghanda gummy. (Ashwaghanda is a plant that belongs to the ginseng family is is often used in Ayurvedic medicine to help relieve stress. Several years ago, the integrative health doctor at the cancer center recommended it to me and it's helped greatly when I've felt overly anxious.)

We drove to the cancer center and found the parking lot packed. City of Hope Atlanta is always full because it's one of 5 such cancer treatment centers in the US and ours serves the Southeast region of the US. Patients come from many states and some even stay for weeks or months at at time in nearby hotels or in the RV lot on the back of the property. Finally, after several laps around the lot, we found a car pulling out and were able to take their space. Hesitantly, I got out of the car and walked to the front of the building. I was so thankful to have my husband's strong hand holding mine. Knowing he was there to offer moral support meant everything to me. 

After registration and lab work, I headed to the Peach Clinic where I'd meet my new oncologist. This would be the 5th one I'd seen in 11 years. The others had either left the practice or had transferred to another facility. I'd prayed and asked God to help me find the right one after my last visit and He pointed me to Dr. Radovich, a woman doctor who'd been working in oncology for over 20 years. 

I was called back and placed in an exam room. Shortly thereafter, the doctor and a scribe came into the room. The doctor introduced herself to my husband and I, then got down to business. She went over my medical history, lab results, and did a physical exam. When she was done, she said everything looked great and smiled a great big smile. I told her how thankful I was to have found her and I appreciated her kindness. That's when she said something that surprised me - "You won't see me but another year." She could tell I was surprised and then she said, "You won't see me but one more time because next year you'll move in to the survivorship program!" I let out a big sigh of relief and then started laughing. The doctor rolled over to me on her little doctor's stool. Sitting beside me she looked deep into my eyes and said, "Do you believe in God?" I was so shocked by her question. I'd never had a doctor ask me that before. I assured her I did and then she really blew me away when she said, "Can I pray for you?" 

Taking both of my hands in hers, she said the sweetest prayer over me. She prayed for my health, my peace, and for my upcoming knee replacement surgery to go well. She asked God to bring me comfort and calm my anxious heart. She overwhelmed me with the tenderness and sincerity of her words. As she came to a close, tears streamed down my face. I had received such an unexpected blessing I could hardly contain my emotions. 

Still holding my hands, the doctor looked at me and smiled. I told her that was the first time in my life I'd ever had a doctor pray over me and she said, "I'm sure some of them have prayed for you in the past, they just never spoke the words out loud for you to hear. I learned a long time ago that my patients needed me to pray for them and they needed to hear the words spoken over them." I thanked her over and over again before she left the room and told me she'd see me next year.  

When we left the building, I felt like I was floating. Not only had my blood work come back okay, but my day had turned out so differently than expected. Closing the car door, I offered up a breath prayer for Dr. Radovich and for God's goodness to me. 

Cancer has been a life altering event in my life but thankfully, God has chosen to let me continue to live and share my story with others. I've had faithful prayer warriors standing in the gap for me before, during, and after most of my medical exams, tests, and surgeries and I'm extremely grateful for all of them but I must say, having a doctor pray aloud for me was one of the best gifts I've had since diagnosis. I'll never forget this day or how a believing physician made a huge impact on my life.

Ready for Spring

These cold, dreary days are so depressing! The bare trees and gray skies exacerbate my feelings of longing. I'm ready for Spring, for the hope of new life it brings and for the anticipation of what the remainder of the year holds. 

I've often wondered why God instilled in bears the instinct to hibernate in the winter. How do they know when to start fattening up on food and preparing their dens? I like to think God has put an internal clock inside them and as time draws near, He pricks them with a sense of urgency. You wouldn't think big, burly bears would need to spend months sleeping, but they do. And when their time of rest is up, they groggily come out of their dens starving. As they go in search of berries or other sustenance, their weakened state becomes strong again. They move forward ready to resume activity, mate, and bear babies. 

Gray days make me want to curl up into a ball and sleep for days, but I don't. Of course, when the days are shorter, I do tend to go to bed earlier, but I don't sleep well and that makes the long nights seem even longer. So I normally try to stay busy doing something - whether it's reading and enjoying a hot cup of tea, painting some piece of art a friend or family member might enjoy, or taking walks with my husband. Sometimes those things get boring and feel antsy, but I know, if I hold out, Spring will be here soon. 

My roses already have new growth on them. Seeing the dark, reddish leaves budding helps me cling to the fact that winter will soon be over. The time change will take place, the days will be longer, and it will feel like there's a reason to be alive again. Hmmm....reading that just made me realize what the problem is - I think I have a touch of S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). It's a condition that causes people to become depressed during winter. Often medication or daylight simulating lamps can help. 

As I continue to mark the days off the calendar and countdown to Spring, I have to look for ways to overcome feelings of winter blues. If I was a bear I could hibernate and not worry about it, but I'm not so I'll do the best I can and look forward to what's to come. I can't wait til the bluebirds start to nest, they're so cheery and colorful. And they make me feel happy.

Breaking into Beautiful

Kim White

Recently, I watched a movie on the Angel network called Breaking into Beautiful. It's the extraordinary story of Kim White, a young woman faced with a rare, aggressive form of cancer called adrenocoritical carcinoma. It was both a heartbreaking and heartwarming story. As I watched the movie, I was dumbfounded at White's strength, courage, and determination. The movie documents her cancer fight through heartfelt videos and Instagram posts. Throughout her 6 year battle, Kim never gave up hope. She did everything in her power to beat the disease, including agreeing to try clinical trials and risky surgical procedures. The movie was raw and real. That's what made me want to watch it. 

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2014, the same year as Kim, I did my best to share what I was going through with family and friends. I felt it important to present a true and accurate picture of what living life with cancer was like. I never wanted to hide what I was going through and though my cancer was very different from Kim's, I still faced many very challenging battles. 

I wrote a book about my journey and was surprised when some family and friends criticized me for being too open about my struggles. They felt some of the things I shared should've been kept behind closed doors, but I chose to share those intimate details in hopes of helping someone else. I felt it incumbent upon myself to do that. 

I don't find myself thinking much about cancer these days. It's been 11 years since the day I heard, "You have cancer," so it's not an integral part of my life anymore. I do, however, like to read books about survivors or watch movies that share their stories. It's been interesting to see how each individual chooses to face the challenge of fighting the disease. Some choose to give it all they've got, like Kim White did, and others resign themselves to the fact that they're going to die from the disease, so they don't put up much of a fight. Personally, I don't understand how someone wouldn't want to do everything in their power to fight. In my experience, cancer can't touch an indomitable spirit.  

Faith was a key element in my battle and also in Ms. White's. It seemed to be the secret key that powered our resolve. Knowing God and God alone knew the number of days allotted us, allowed us to come to a form of acceptance. In essence, whatever happened, whether we lived or died, was going to be okay. 

Right now, as I sit in my office, there's a large whiteboard on the wall. On it, I record daily prayer needs. Currently, there are a dozen specific needs, each shared with me via phone, text, or social media. Of those twelve requests, 7 are for people struggling with different types of cancer. The majority of those people fall into the 30-45 year old age group, and that makes me so sad. It seems they're in the prime of life and should be enjoying life with sheer abandon instead of fighting diligently each day to survive. 

Kim White only lived to be 32. She was a daughter, wife, and mother. In between her various treatments, the movie showed Kim's determination to grab every ounce of gusto she could from life. She wasn't about to just roll over and die. 

As the movie covered her cancer journey, the physical devastation to her body became more and more evident but each time she endured treatment, she seemed to rebound. During those times of recovery, she went hiking, rock climbing, snowboarding, and swimming. She was determined to squeeze every good moment out of every day she was given. In one scene of the movie, Kim is shown with a shorn head traveling down a slip and slide with her young daughter. Her frail body clings tightly to the love of her life as she squeals with glee. When I watched that scene, it did something to me. It made me realize, even on the best days of my life, when I'm not struggling with any health issues, I don't live like that. 

Health is something many take for granted and I'll admit, until I was diagnosed with cancer, I did the same. Cancer was a huge wakeup call for me. It made me realize life is short and I never know when my number will be up. 

Since watching the movie, Breaking into Beautiful, I've been reminded I'd better get busy living. Instead of letting each day pass in the typical mundane way, I want to live like Kim with exuberance and joy. I've realized cancer can only steal from you what you let it. If you allow it to steal your joy and hope, you have nothing left. 

I'm so thankful to still be here 11 years post diagnosis. Kim only got 6 years of life after finding out she had cancer. In March, I go back to the cancer treatment center for my annual checkup. As I watch the day draw nearer and nearer on the calendar, I start to get this niggling feeling in the back of my mind - what if I face a recurrence? How would I respond to that news? I'd like to think I could be as determined and strong willed as Kim was in her fight, but I'm not sure I would be. 

My first (and hopefully last) go round with cancer was difficult but not unbearable. Physically, I've pretty much recovered other than the challenge of lymphedema, an unexpected gift cancer left me after having lymph nodes removed. Mentally, I'm in a much better place now than I was 11 years ago, but there are still days I feel less than. Spiritually, I feel like I'm stronger now than I was back then and I can honestly say thank you to cancer for that, but it's been tough. No one can truly understand what it's like to fight cancer until they're in the midst of the battle, but watching real life stories like Kim's can surely provide a heaping dose of reality.  

Kim lived a remarkable life and her story will inspire many for years to come. I'm thankful she wanted to openly share her journey with the world. Who knows how many people, myself included, will change the way they face each day because of her example.

I want a love like that.

Yesterday we got up early and headed to our doctor's office. It was time for our routine checkups. Pulling into the parking lot, we were surprised to find it completely full. After circling around a few times, we lucked up and found a car leaving so we snagged the spot. As we approached the door to enter the building, we noticed several people wearing masks again. We looked at each other and shrugged. Though Covid still lingered, the new concern for many was influenza. We were thankful we'd had vaccines at our last visit. The doc had suggested the high dose injection, the one for old folks. 

We made it up the elevator and into the waiting room. Sitting down, we noticed there were only a handful of people. We took seats and waited to be called back. Most of the people in the room were staring blankly at the huge TV screen mounted on the wall, a distraction to help ease anxiety. From our seats along the side of the room, we heard the familiar voices of "Golden Girls." An elderly woman to our left began laughing at something Estelle Getty said. Her smile was precious. As we waited, more and more people filed in.

A nurse entered the room and called out, "Jack, is there a Mr. Jack _____ here??" Everyone looked around the room waiting for a response. Though there were 3 men in the waiting room, none of them turned at the nurse's call. From across the room, a middle aged woman discreetly motioned toward an elderly man suggesting he might be Jack. When the man didn't turn, I assumed he was hard of hearing and leaned forward. I was seated directly in front of him and knew he could see me. I spoke loudly and used sign language, "Are you Jack?" He shook his head and went back to watching the television. A moment or two later, the door to the back office opened.

In the doorway stood the nurse and a senior adult woman. The nurse was helping her shuffle across the carpeted floor.When they reached her husband, the man we thought was Jack, the nurse released her hold and said goodbye. The gentleman rose to his feet with the aid of a cane. When he was fully upright, his wife slipped her arm into the crook of his. I watched carefully as they slowly made their way toward the exit. They were so cute. As they were walking, I thought, "I want a love like that." I wanted a love that lasted forever, a tender, precious caring love - one that looked past the wrinkles and sagging hips, one that still saw beauty even though it had long faded. 

When they reached the door to exit, the woman turned toward her husband and smiled. He leaned close and touched her cheek. Then they were gone. I imagined they'd walk hand in hand to the elevator and then continue through the medical building before reaching the parking lot. In my mind's eye, I could hear them, "What did the doctor say, dear?" And as she responded to his question, I imagined she'd have to repeat herself several times in order for him to hear. 

Love, so much power in a such a tiny word. Just 4 letters but, wow. 

A minute later, it was our turn to see the doctor. We'd made our appointments simultaneously for convenience. The nurses had gotten used to setting up the exam room for 2 instead of for 1 and they knew, since we'd been married so long, we had nothing to hide from each other. And often, my husband's hearing loss required me to interpret the doctor's questions so he could understand before answering. Our visit went well and we were told to come back in 6 months for lab work. 

After saying goodbye to the medical staff, I looked at my husband and smiled. His eyes were twinkling. Taking my hand, we strode toward the exit. His large hand felt so warm and comforting. That's when I realized, we already had the kind of love displayed by the elderly couple, the kind I'd always wanted. I guess I'd just become too comfortable and hadn't remembered those times he reached for my hand as we walked, the times he'd looked at me with adoration, the times he took care of me when I was ill, never leaving my side. I'd forgotten about the time he stood outside the church in the pouring rain without an umbrella because he wanted to ask me out. I'd stopped paying attention to the multitude of ways he expressed his love and devotion to me, it had become so commonplace, I failed to notice until I'd been reminded by the elderly couple. Without saying a word, they'd shown me I already had that kind of love. I was so blessed. If I'd had the chance, I would have thanked them for the gentle reminder they'd given me. I was the lucky one. 

As we grow older, I pray one day a young couple will notice us. Perhaps they'll lean toward each other as one of them whispers, "I want a love like that." Love should never be taken for granted. It should be treasured and protected at all costs. It's the most precious commodity one can possess and when you find that forever love, like we have, it's a marvelous thing.

Where did January go?

Where did January go? It seems the older I get the faster the months go! Goodbye and good riddance, January! You were cold and dreary. Welcome, February, the month of love and hopefully, warmer temperatures. 

This will undoubtedly be a hard month for many. Some of my friends have lost their mates. That love they thought would last a lifetime is gone. Others are longing for love. They've searched high and low but haven't found the deep, true love they're seeking. And then there's folks like me, who have been blessed with love and have grown comfortable and old with it, sometimes taking it for granted, even though they don't mean to... In each of those situations, there's one common denominator - the rarity of the gift. 

The greatest gift we can give others is love. To do that, we must give of ourselves but in order to give the right kind of love, we have to love God first. The Bible tells us that is the greatest command - to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. The second command is to love others as ourselves. 

Self love isn't always easy, but if we really admit it, we do love ourselves to some degree. 

So what's a practical way we can show love to others? One of the best ways I've found to show love to others is to pray for them. This is a gift of love I can give often. Whenever a friend or loved one mentions a need, I immediately record it then, over the next days, weeks, months, and sometimes even years, I pray for each need until there's an answer. It's a great faith builder to see God work in the lives of others. 

Sometimes the needs are answered quickly and other times the answer isn't an expected one. God chooses when and how He responds according to His perfect will. 

Prayer, as an act of love, is an easy thing to do. 

This month, why not list each of your friends prayer needs they've mentioned on social media? Then, as you go about your day, and God brings someone to mind, say a little prayer for them. You might not know exactly what to say because you won't have all the details, but God knows the need. You can offer up a simple prayer like this: 

"Oh, Gracious Heavenly Father, right now, I feel You putting ____________ on my heart. I don't know what ____________ really needs right now, but you do. Would you please meet that need according to Your perfect will? Would you surround my friend with Your comforting presence? May ________feel your strong arms of compassion undergirding (him/her) throughout the day? And Father, may I be quick to offer words of love and encouragement to ________ in the days ahead as you lead me. Thank you for what you're going to do and thank you that I can come boldly before Your throne with my requests. In the Precious name of Jesus, I pray, Amen." 

We should love others because He first loved us, so let's do it! And remember, love is an action word. You have to put forth a little effort to get it going. 

2025 Note to Self

Dear Bonnie, 

This is the 7th day of the New Year and it's time to take a quick look back before marching forward. 

Do you remember when you had your first brush with death? The year was 1970 and your gallbladder burst. You were only 13. Gangrene was coursing through your body as the surgeon worked quickly to remove that organ. You were in the hospital for over a week and went through an entire year of medical treatment afterward to survive. During that time, you grew to understand what true physical pain felt like for the first time in your life.

In 1990, you had your second brush with death when you were involved in a serious motor vehicle accident. Your right leg was almost severed. After a radical surgery, a week in the hospital and treatment you went home in a wheelchair, physically and emotionally broken. Your marriage had fallen apart, you had 4 young children to raise alone, and you were devastated. You were unable to walk for over a year. The doctors thought they were going to have to amputate your leg due to multiple staph infections and lack of bone growth. But God intervened. When you reached out to the pastor of your little country church and asked the deacons to come anoint you with oil and pray over you, they did. It was the first time they'd ever done that and weren't quite sure how to go about it, but all of you had faith and God used that experience to draw you closer to Himself.

In 2014, you had your third brush with death. You were diagnosed with breast cancer. Quickly, you realized the seriousness of the situation and learned you had to make a lot of tough decisions. But your faith was strong, never did you doubt God had allowed the cancer into your life. You didn't know it then, but learned later He would use it for His glory. 

In the middle of August 2024, you had your fourth brush with death. Right after surgery to repair a hiatal hernia, your bowels shut down. You'd developed an ileus, a life threatening condition. You were rushed to the emergency room, kept overnight, and then transported to Atlanta for a week long hospital stay there as doctors worked hard to get you well enough to go home. 

A month later, you were rushed to the ER with tachycardia. Your blood pressure was sky high and your heart was beating out of rhythm. It was touch and go, but the doctors got you stabilized the following day and sent you home.  Then, the same thing happened again about 6 weeks later!

Over and over again, you've faced various trials but God has allowed you to live. Sometimes you've felt like a cat with 9 lives, wondering when the next event might take you out and this has caused extreme anxiety, but God's always been there. In your heart, you've known God must have a special purpose for not only allowing you to go through these things, but keeping you safe and letting you live through and past them! You have grown to understand His hand of favor is upon you.  

Bonnie, the Bible says our lives are like a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow. God created us for His glory. We have a job to do while we’re here and that’s to spread His love to others.
Every day as you wake, be sure and thank God for allowing you to see another day. Life is a gift, a very, very precious gift. 

As you go through the rest of this year, remember these things. Hide them in your heart and consider them carefully. No one knows what tomorrow holds, but you know WHO holds all your tomorrows. 

Many blessings to you, my sweet self. Keep your eyes toward the Son. He's got you.

Hope for the New Year

This morning, over coffee, I was perusing the internet and made a point of checking my various email accounts. In one of them, I found an interesting notice - our local Big Lots is going out of business. Mentioning it to hubby, we decided to take a jaunt over and see if there were any good sales.

We got to the store and were shocked to find the shelves almost bare! Good heavens, word travels fast, but I guess these days, everyone's trying to stretch their dollars and a good deal is hard to find.

Up and down the aisles I went, looking for everyday items like cleaning supplies...I know, most people would be buying Christmas stuff for the upcoming year and while they did have a good selection of those things, I wasn't interested. I grabbed some fabric softener and Swiffer pads for my power mop then headed for the stationary section. I only had one goal in mind really, and that was to buy a new wall calendar. I always get mine prepared with all the important family dates and medical appointments before January 1 but it's hard to find ones with big squares. Luckily, they had a few and after digging, I found the perfect one.

Heading to the register, we fell in line with about 10 other shoppers, made our purchases and headed home.

After lunch, I spread out my new calendar on the kitchen table, pulled out my colored Sharpie markers and got to work. (Yes, I color code my stuff - red for doctors, purple for birthdays, blue for anniversaries, and green for vacations.)

When I was done, I flipped through the pages thinking I'd done something productive for the day (even though I had intended to read all day, I couldn't keep my typical type A self in check for hours on end.) And that's when it hit me, another new year will be upon us soon.

I had to pause and ask myself what goals I had for the upcoming year. I usually try to set a few but hadn't thought of a single one thus far.

To me, the new year has always seemed like a clean slate. When I picture it in my mind, I actually see it as one of those old hand held slate chalk boards with the thick jute string on it and tale tell traces of leftover chalk dust from a quick swipe that didn't get the board entirely clean. So I tried to pull out a piece of mental chalk and jot down a few things of importance:

1. This new year I want to be more diligent about keeping a gratitude journal. Even if I only write down one or two things a day, I think I need to focus on God's goodness more intentionally.

2. I also want to spend more one on one time with family and friends, and I don't mean on the phone. I mean face to face. Life is so short and I want those personal connections to be strong.

3. I want to quell negativity in my life and seek joy daily. It's so easy to find the things that bug us, but what about shifting to focus on the little happy moments? The grayish brown doldrums of January and February make it challenging, but I think if I try hard, I can find some rays of sunshine somewhere.

4. I'd like to travel to both familiar and unfamiliar places and while doing so, document those trips by honing my photography skills more. I've always loved photograph but have become lax lately. My "big" cameras sit in the bottom of my office closet most days but my cell phone is always with me. I want to get back to using the skills I learned from New York Institute of Photography more. I need to do that. God has given me 2 good eyes to see with but He also gave me a love of creativity and photography is one of my favorite ways to incorporate the things I see and experience with artistic license.

I think I can handle those 4 goals and I'm happy I finally took time to write them down. Of course, I'll continue working on some children's books I've let slide by the wayside for a while and get those published for my grands and who knows, I may write another memoir.

What will you do in the new year? Is there a new skill you'd like to learn? Something on your bucket list you want to cross off? Start thinking! I'm sure you can come up with something.

No one knows what the future holds but as the new year draws near, I feel a stirring of hope in my heart - hope for new experiences, new friendships, new adventures, and of course, a closer walk with the Lord. (Did you notice I saved the best for last?!)

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

What is wrong with us?!

47TH

When did it happen and how did we let it? The world I grew up in no longer exists. Today's world is so, so, evil. It didn't happen overnight but slowly and methodically as we let our guard down and now, it seems, we've reached the point of no return. 

When my husband and I learned of the attempt to assassinate President Trump, we were dumbfounded. First, we questioned how our country's superior security system could have failed in such a horrible way and then, we stopped and gave thanks to God for thwarting this evil plan. 

It's hard to live in a world where right and wrong no longer seem to matter. Morals and values are totally corrupt. But when I read God's Word, I know this is the way it's supposed to be right now because we're living in the last days. 

I'm sure God looks down on us and sheds many tears. As we continue to fail His standards and make poor choices. Yes, there are those who love and follow Him, doing all they can to keep His covenants and live godly lives and then...there are those who do completely the opposite - living out the evil that permeates their souls. 

How I long for things to return to they way it was when I was growing up. No, things weren't perfect, but they were much better than today. People trusted. People respected. People cared. God was honored (for the most part in most homes and in our country) and the majority of people loved our country. How things have changed!

As believers, we have so much to pray about. Every single day, we need to remember not only to pray for our loved ones and our country, but also for those in authority over us. Even more importantly, we need to pray for God's intervention and for His will to be accomplished in His perfect timing. 

I can't help but remember these very conditional verses of Scripture that offer such promises:  "If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. 2 Chronicles 7:14-20.

How we need that today!

If you're one of my faithful readers, I'd like to ask you to join me in taking a few minutes each day to pray for our country. We desperately need God and our land needs help. 

I have a little hour glass I keep on my desk. As I turn it over, the sand runs through it within 5 minutes. 5 minutes isn't a long time to pray. Can you commit to that each day? Though a very small amount of time, I think it would make a huge difference if our collective, heartfelt voices went up to the throne room, don't you? Try it. We have to do something and this is truly something that matters.

How Big is Your Jesus?

We'd just arrived at our hotel and were at the desk checking in when something on the counter caught my eye. A tiny figurine sat in between 2 welcome to our hotel signs. As the front desk employee went through the check in routine, I couldn't keep my eyes off the little rubber figure. When she'd finished with the formalities of registering us, I picked up the little guy and held it up for her to see. "Who put this here?" I asked. She replied, "I have no idea. I imagine a guest left it or someone found it and put it there." Smiling, I asked if she knew who it was. She didn't answer. That's when I said, "Can I have Him?" She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Sure." So I took the tiny Jesus figure and gently placed Him in my purse. 

When I got to the room, I took out the rubber Jesus and washed Him in the sink. I wanted to make sure no nasty germs were stuck to Him. Then, I dried Him and looked Him over. This little guy was apparently some kind of toy but I didn't care. Though he was smaller than an inch, He represented a lot to me!

The Bible says no one has ever seen God that means no one really knows what He looks like. Oh we can imagine - He was probably a little darker skinned than we are with dark brown hair and eyes. More than likely had had a beard or some facial hair and since He was a Jew, He may have had the longer side burns called payot. We also know He wasn't handsome or notable, because the Bible tells us “For He grew up before Him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him. (Isaiah 53:2) To me, that says Jesus was the average looking Joe. And isn't it remarkable that God would send His Son to Earth looking just like one of us instead of with all sorts of glory surrounding Him? I think God did it that way to make Jesus more relatable. 

The tiny figure of Jesus I'd picked up in the lobby was cute. Anyone who didn't know this was a mini representation of  Christ, would probably guess because of all the paintings that depicted Him in this fashion. The garment was non de-script. The blue sash may have referred to His Jewishness, who knows, or it could have implied royalty. 

The more I looked at the rubber figure, the more I kept hearing in my head - "How big is your Jesus?" I knew God was asking me not about stature but about ability. Though I know God is Omnipotent, sometimes I tend to limit Him by placing my expectations of His abilities in a box. I'll pray for something important to my heart and before I give Him a chance to answer, I've already assumed the outcome. That's not the way I should react but in my humanness, I often do. 

Jesus isn't a tiny little guy I can pull out of my purse when I want and ask for something miraculous. He's not my personal Genie. He is Holy - a vital part of the Triune Godhead. 

Little Jesus is going to stay in my purse. I want to keep Him there as a visual reminder that God is always with me. I also want to keep this little guy to remind me God is so much bigger than I could ever imagine. 

I'm thankful someone left the little Jesus on the counter for me to find. I looked up on Amazon and found out I can get a whole box of 100 tiny Jesus figures for about $35. Maybe I'll order some in the future and put them in random places so others can have an epiphany, too. 

It always amazes me how God uses some of the most random things to speak to my heart, but He knows me so well. He knows I'm a visual learner and thinker. Seeing little Jesus pricked my heart to think about more than just a rubber toy. It caused me to really hone in on the love that sent Jesus here in the first place. God already had a plan of redemption ready before Adam sinned. He knew, after giving the gift of free will, there would be a very regrettable choice that would need fixing. Jesus was and still is the answer. 

My Jesus is much bigger than the little guy in my purse. I'm so thankful I know Him personally as my Lord and Savior! I hope you do, too.