Make time for the ones you love

I have four children whom I dearly love, but it's hard to spend time with them because none of them live close. And while I do my best to be part of their lives through phone calls, texts, and emails, I'd rather see them in person on a daily basis like I did when they were younger and all lived at home. I understand they're grown and have their own lives. I'm proud of each of them and know they're busy with their own families, but I still need them. 

My youngest daughter is in constant touch. I get phone calls every day and our relationship is just about as tight as it always was but with the others, it's a challenge. My son works 2 jobs and is now spending time running back and forth helping take care of his grandchildren. My oldest daughter lives in another state and is always busy with her 5 children and their extracurricular activities. My middle daughter only lives about an hour away, but homeschools her daughter and spends a lot of time serving in her church. All of them stay busy and I do my best to respect their time, but occasionally, am needy. That's why I reached out and established a monthly Mother Daughter day. I wanted to schedule a time to devote solely to her. Middle children always seem to get the shaft and it's not fair. I wanted to remedy that. 

When I mentioned the concept to her, she readily agreed it would be fun. So for the past few months, we've looked at our calendars and figured out a day that worked best for each of us. Yesterday was our special day and we both looked forward to it. 

When she arrived, I was so happy to see her. After a big hug and a quick goodbye to my hubby, we headed out to lunch. It was nice to get out and catch up over a good pizza and then do some shopping. When the day was over, I was sad. I wanted more time but understood she had to get back home to her waiting husband and daughter. 

Growing old is hard. Having grown children who live far away is even more hard, especially since all I knew, for the majority of my life, was being a mother. I loved it with all my heart. This season of life is interesting. While I enjoy spending time with my husband doing the things we enjoy doing, I still need my "kid fix" every day. 

I don't like living so far away from the kiddos and hope, in the near future, to move closer to one of them. As we grow older and our health declines, we're going to need someone to help us out. That time seems to be quickly approaching. 

I'm so thankful God allowed me to have 4 beautiful children, 9 very special grandchildren, and 2 great grandchildren. My quiver is definitely full! I don't know what I'd do without them. 

49 years

Today is my son's 49th birthday and I can hardly believe I'm old enough to say that. It seems like yesterday I was heading to the hospital to give birth for the first time. I was so young and so very scared. I had no idea what to expect - no childbirth classes to prepare me to breathe properly or ride out the pain. Instead, as each labor pain grew in intensity, I struggled against it feeling like I was about to split wide open and just when I thought I couldn't bear another second of terror, my beautiful baby boy arrived. I'll never forget how it felt to have him placed in my arms. His tiny body cradled against me, I felt such love and utter infatuation. Finally, I had something or someone to call my own. 

How could the time have flown so quickly? 1976 seems a lifetime away. Looking back, I marvel. I was such a child when I gave birth for the first time only I didn't realize it at the time. I was just 19. By today's standards, I would have just graduated college a year earlier and be enjoying my first year of college, but I'd never been raised to think that way. As I was growing up, it was instilled into me that the greatest calling a woman could have was to be a mother, so that's what I aspired to be, but when you're so young, it's a huge challenge to be a good mother and though I did my best, I don't think I was a very good one. 

Day by day, I worked hard to love my child unconditionally. He was the light of my life and filled me with such happiness. Yes, it was hard to endure sleepless nights when he was sick or teething, but I did it anyway. Some days were more challenging than others because I didn't really know what I was doing. I was winging it and often would have to ask for help from my mother. Naturally, she was honored when I called on her and always stepped up to the plate, but sometimes, she overstepped and tried to usurp my role. But that's a story for another day. 

Thankfully, I can look at my son today and see he's a good kid. He's a wonderful father and now, a grandfather! As I watch him interact with his little grandchildren, I smile knowing I did something right. At least, I think I did. My only goal, as a mother, was to teach him to love and be loved. I hope he'll pass that legacy down throughout the generations to come. 

Next year, Lord willing, He'll be 50 and I'll be 69! And one day, when I'm old and decrepit, I hope he'll come to me and tell me I mattered.

I'm too old for this!

Moving stinks!!! I've never met anyone who loved moving, but I'm sure there are some folks out there who like to relocate. NOT ME! Packing is the pits. Now I know why some people hire professional movers, it's stressful doing it yourself. 

How do things multiply when you're not looking? I'd like to know! As I've been packing things up, it seems no matter how many boxes I've already done, there's so much more to do! 

If I could have a magic power, I'd have the power to transport me and all my stuff to our new home in the blink of an eye. It would instantly be set up exactly as I want it and all I'd have to do is walk in the front door and shout, "I'm home!" But you know what they say about wishes... "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." 

I've gotten about half of the house packed up already and hope to be done by the weekend, but I'm not sure it's going to happen. If not, I'll push it into next week. 

My husband and I have agreed this will be our LAST move until we're called home to heaven. We're too old for this! 

Needless to say, I'll be super busy over the next few days so I may not have a chance to post. I'll try, but I can't promise. 

I hope you'll have a wonderful Valentine's Day celebrating with the one/ones you love. A sweet friend of mine told me to celebrate with a bottle of champagne and some chocolate covered cherries. I think that's a great idea! Hopefully you can find a nice way to celebrate, too. 

Is it just me, or does the year seem like it's flying by already? Before we know it, it will be Christmas again! I've always heard it said that time goes by faster the older you get and I'm learning it's true. I guess that means after I'm all moved in, I'd better start my online Christmas shopping or maybe we'll just skip it this year, like the Kranks! That sounds pretty good to me! 

Well, it's about time for an update, don't ya think?

 I'm lax. A slacker. Not really, but it feels good to say I've kind of forgotten about my blog lately and the reason is a fairly good one, I think. Life has been going well and by that I mean pretty normal. 

Normal is hard for a person affected by cancer to ever say because once cancer has come into your life, nothing is ever normal again. 

On my fridge hangs a schedule of future medical appointments. I'm happy to say there's only one cancer related appointment among that list and that appointment is in March. 

How'd that happen???

It seems I've been under constant surveillance for so long and now, I'm on annual watch. It seems like I'm a recently freed prisoner or something. And it feels weird - kind of like the safety net has been pulled out from under me. But, I'm thankful. Very, very thankful. 

I can never forget about cancer though. Every time I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of how it changed my life. To this day, almost 10 years post diagnosis, I have no feeling on the right side of my chest. The long incision where they sliced away my breast tissue damaged nerve endings and those haven't rejoined. When I touch my skin there, I can feel a slight pressure, but nothing more. It's an odd feeling. 

I've kind of gotten used to being flat chested. At home, I don't wear my boobs because they're cumbersome and irritating. When I go out, I do. Mostly, to help myself fit in. I don't want to be stared at because I'm different. When I wear my prostheses, no one knows I had breast cancer, unless I tell them. 

My husband and my family know they may or may not see me with boobs on and they've grown to accept it. But now, my youngest daughter has a new boyfriend and he isn't familiar with my health journey. I've given her permission to tell him about it in hopes he'll understand and accept me with or without my female anatomy. I don't want him to be uncomfortable wondering about me if I don't look feminine, especially when he doesn't know me well enough yet. And when I meet his family one day, I'm hoping they won't know my secret. 

It's hard to keep a think like that hidden but I feel it's my right to share or not share. 

Sometimes, it feels like this has all been a bad dream.

I made it through Thanksgiving this year without balling my eyes out. In the past, I always cried as I remembered all God has brought me through. I definitely don't take any of that for granted, it's just this year, I'd come to a place of contentment. 

Now Christmas is upon us and I can't help but feel nostalgic. As I put up decorations, I think about all the people I've known who are no longer with us. Many of those were friends who fought cancer hard and lost. It breaks my heart to think about their valiant fights, but each of them possessed a bravery I can only hope to mirror one day. 

It's nice that cancer isn't my main focus any more. I still can't believe how much territory I gave it those first few years. 

There are still some friends who're fighting hard to make it through cancer. Seeing their struggle makes me so sad. I wonder why God has been so gracious to me and yet, they aren't as blessed. I have to remind myself daily, I could be in their position just as easily as they could be in mine. 

I never want to take a day for granted. 

That's one gift cancer has given me - the gift of gratitude. I used to assume too many things. Now I don't. 

One thing I've learned recently is I don't need cancer as a convenient excuse anymore. 

Yes, I still experience side effects from radiation - my right lung was damaged and sometimes I struggle to breathe properly. I do get tired more easily than I used to, but that could also be because I'm older now than when first diagnosed. I still have body image issues on the bad days, but usually, I can push through them. Most of all, I'm just glad I'm still around. 

I love getting to watch sunrises and sunsets. I love listening to instrumental Christmas classics, I love smelling oranges or cookies fresh from the oven. I love seeing the wrinkles on my husband's face when he smiles a big smile and that twinkle in his eyes when he's happy. I could be missing all those things...

I don't know if cancer will ever rear its ugly head in my life again, I pray not, but if it does, I'll worry about that then. Until that day, I'm moving forward. I'm living my life to the fullest and I'm really glad I can. 

 

Many years ago, I decided to host a family reunion for my Dad's side of the family. We rarely got together, and I thought it would be a good idea, so I began putting things together. 

I talked with my Mother and Sister, asking for their thoughts on the idea. They both thought it would be nice and so I moved forward. 

After drafting an invitation, I set a date and circled it on my calendar. I was excited to see cousins I hadn't seen in years. 

For days, I cleaned every inch of my house (which was normally very clean anyway.) I made sure to dust the ceiling fans and make sure every bathroom sparkled. I wanted my guests to feel free to roam through my entire house, after all, there would be almost 30 people coming! 

The day before the event, I went shopping and began to prepare the food. There was a lot to do in such a short amount of time, but with the help of my daughters, things began to fall into place. 

My refrigerator was filled with casseroles that I'd just pop into the oven hours before the guests began to arrive. Coolers were filled with ice and canned drinks. Tea had been made; tables had been set up. My home was beginning to look like an event hall, and I was happy. 

Hospitality isn't a gift I've ever claimed to have. It's one I've struggled with. I don't do well with the sitting and visiting part, but since the Bible says to "practice hospitality," I do my best. 

One by one, family members started to arrive. I welcomed them one by one and did my best to make them feel at home. 

Since I had things in the oven, I couldn't stay in the living room long. I had to keep going into the kitchen to make sure nothing was burning. And since several family members were already there, I figured they could talk amongst themselves while I busied myself attending to details. I was in full on "Martha” mode. 

When everyone had arrived, I showed them the varied tables set up for dining. They could choose where they wanted to sit and I had plenty of room. The older relatives, including my parents, chose to sit in the formal dining room. The kids sat at a card table in the living room, while most of the other family members scattered between my kitchen table and a long folding table set up in my formal living room. After everyone had their place, I asked people to take their plates and begin moving through the kitchen buffet style. 

As people filled their plates, I moved among them asking what they'd like to drink and asking if anyone needed anything. There were so many of them and only one of me! 

Soon, pleasant chatter filled my home, and I began the task of going from one room to another asking if anyone needed help. Some needed salt or a drink refill. I happily obliged. 

I don't know how long I served, but time was ticking by. 

On my next round through the formal living room, my cousin, Steve, patted the seat next to him and said, "Come sit down and visit with us." Throwing my head back in laughter, I chortled, "I'd like to, but I've got to keep moving! There's so much to do." He didn't press me, and I continued my busy work. 

The reunion was a huge success and my Daddy enjoyed it so much. That was my main goal, to bless him. 

Today, as I was studying about the the story of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus again, God hit me between the eyes. "Remember the reunion when Steve asked you to sit and visit?" "Yes, Lord, I do." "You didn't. You should have. Why didn't you?" " I was so busy. I didn't have time." "You should have made time. You would have been blessed." "Ouch!" Of course, that's my conversation with the Lord in my mind, and some of the words are very different, but it's the jest of it. That's when I realized, I'd been a Martha. 

I'd always wondered why Jesus chided Martha for her busy-ness and had pointed out that Mary chose the better part. I always thought Martha was doing a good thing, making sure everything was just so, but Jesus knew better. Martha did use her gift of service to please others but in so doing, she missed being able to sit and visit with the guests. Most of all, she missed being in the presence of Jesus and hearing Him speak. 

I missed visiting with my cousins. I missed the conversations that held years of updates, but by the time the reunion was over, it was too late to visit with anyone. 

My kitchen had been a beehive of activity and I'd been the queen bee but during that time, the "hive" had been busy laughing, loving, and lingering. I'd missed it all! 

And just a month ago, I missed another opportunity as my youngest sister and a cousin planned another family reunion. I'd had a scheduling conflict and had to choose between two events. Instead of choosing to reschedule an anniversary/birthday trip, I opted to skip the family reunion thinking there'd be time to do another one in the near future, but that may never happen. 

As God reminded me of those lost opportunities today, I wept bitter tears of remorse. I wanted a do over. But now, many of my family members are no longer here. They've already gone on to heaven. 

One thing I can do though is make time now. 

I won't ever forget the lesson I learned from that big mistake. I've asked God to help me be more Mary-like. Who cares if the dishes are in the sink or on the counter? It's more important to be present with the people I love and care about. Time is short and I won't make that mistake again. 

Don't Waste Any Time

Frances McDormand as Fern

Today I finally watched the acclaimed movie, Nomadland. I'm always a day late and a dollar short, it seems, when trying to stay up on the most recent social media items, but I try. I'd heard about it from my youngest daughter and made a note to watch as soon as possible. 

The movie won best picture in the 2021 Oscars and Frances McDormand did an excellent job in her role as lead character, Fern. Following the economic collapse of Empire, a small town in rural Nevada, Fern (Frances McDormand) packs her van and sets off exploring life outside of conventional society as a modern-day nomad.

I found myself in a pensive and introspective mood as I watched. This hard working woman, recently widowed, left everything she knew and loved due to circumstances beyond her control. She was a seeker on a journey to find herself. 

As I watched, I immediately became entrenched. As an avid camper, hiker, and backpacker, I loved all the beautiful scenery in the movie and paired with beautiful music, it really touched my heart. 

Watching as Frances/Fern traveled in her van from place to place, I was reminded, the Earth is not our home. We're all just wandering here on this planet and the majority of us have an inner sense that we don't really belong here - that's because God has placed the desire for eternity in our hearts. 

Throughout the movie, Fern meets one person after another on her life's path. Some become good friends and others are just casual acquaintances. But in every instance, each person was meant to touch her life in some small way or, vice versa. 

There was one particular scene where Fern and another woman are talking. The woman tells Fern about her husband buying a beautiful sailboat and how he couldn't wait to retire so he could enjoy it, but ten days before he retired, he died. The woman admonished Fern saying, "Don't waste any time." And when she said that, I felt an arrow pierce my heart. 

Time. So valuable and so precious. Yet, every single day, we waste it. Why? With such a priceless commodity, we should be wise about our expenditures. 

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I stopped wearing a watch. I didn't want to know what time it was any more. I wanted to focus on being present in the moment. In the past, I'd let time slip away but from that day forward, I resolved, no more. 

Daily, I push myself to the limit, often to my detriment. In fact, my husband and children often tell me I don't know how to rest. My husband, Phil, is always encouraging me to partake of Dolce Far Niente, the art of doing nothing. He says it's okay, but I feel if I do, I'm wasting precious time. Only those who've gone through cancer can truly grasp that concept. 

A Facebook friend send me a beautiful painting the other day. At the bottom of the painting are the words, "Sometimes you have to rest. The world can wait!" It's a reminder that sometimes I need to slow down. The Bible reminds me, too, "Be still...and know that He is God." Being still is hard for me, but I'm trying. 

There's a big difference between resting and wasting time, between being still and frittering away the moments. 

It can be difficult to find a balance, but we must. 

Oh to be a nomad, wandering from place to place, with no responsibilities or encumbrances! 

Though we're tethered to this Earth right now, there's a constant tugging at our hearts for home. That's why we can't waste even a second. We must use our stories to point others to Christ and that way, we won't have wasted any time.

Labor of love, Ha!

For the past few days, I've had good intentions but you know what they say about good intentions...the path to hell is paved with them. Anyway, it's already the first of February and I should have completed my book by now.

My goal was to have it completed by the end of December 2017. Did that happen? No! Life just got in the way and things happened that were out of my control so I changed my goal. My new goal is to finish by the end of 2018. Will that happen? It remains to be seen, but if I don't make a specific plan it won't.

So today, I committed to writing for a couple of hours each day. I went into my office this morning and thought, "Oh, great! I'm off to a good start. It's only 9:30 a.m. and I have the whole day to write. I turned on my computer, opened up my manuscript and went into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of green tea. The caffeine in the tea should give me an energy boost, right...well, it did. And then my adult ADHD brain kicked in and I ran outside to fill up the bird feeders, then I pruned some bushes. When I came back inside, I realized I hadn't completed my tea, so I gulped down a few sips and opened the dishwasher. After unloading it, I thought I needed to vacuum, so I did. I vacuumed the entire house and as I was doing that, I thought about dinner so I went to the freezer to pull out something to defrost. After doing all of those things, I passed by my paintings that I'd left to dry on the kitchen table. There were still a few damp spots so I decided to wait to put on the acrylic finish.

Heading back to my office, I sat down at my desk and thought, I really should get to writing. As I looked at the clock it was already 12:30! I popped on Facebook for just a few minutes to get caught up on the news and then my daughter started texting. As I read her texts about baby Garrett and his news, I lost track of time.

The file on my computer was still open. It was now 1:00 p.m. and my stomach was growling. Instead of fixing myself a nice lunch, I went into the kitchen and grabbed a protein shake. I could drink that while I worked on my manuscript.

Back at my desk, protein shake in hand, I opened my book manuscript. Instead of picking up where I left off, I thought it wise to reread my writing and make some edits. I scrolled all the way back to my book's introduction and began there. As I read, I was transported in time.

Reliving the past events of my cancer journey wasn't easy. Going through each process step by step was a challenge. I'd forgotten some of the emotions I'd felt back then, now they were fresh in my mind again.

After two hours of reading and editing, I decided to stop. I completed 4 chapters of work and I'm satisfied with that. Tomorrow, I'll try again. This time maybe I won't get sidetracked. Sometimes it's hard to have a creative mind. It seems it's always working, always thinking, always going in fifty million different directions. Now, where is that bungee cord?

The year is coming to a close

The beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains

Heavens! It's been a long time since I've written on my blog. I don't have any excuse other than life has happened and I've been busy enjoying it.

Since my last post, I've become a sexagenarian. Yep! My 60th birthday was a doozy. We spent it in the beautiful mountains of North Georgia. And while I don't feel one minute older than I did before I reached this humongous milestone, I look in the mirror and realize I am sooooo much older than I used to be.

Time seems to be marching ever forward and at an alarming rate of speed. It seems like yesterday was January 1 and now it's December 10th! Where has the time gone???? And why does it seem to move so much faster the older I get???? As time seems to be fleeting, I realize we truly are a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow.

Hubby and I in our Santa hats

At the time of this writing, my last remaining uncle on my father's side of the family has been admitted to hospice care. He isn't doing well and chances are, he won't be here through the end of the year. My mother is also not doing well. She's currently in hospice care, as well. The reality of the brevity of life looms overhead. And this truth causes me to stop and rethink my own mortality.

What do I want for the New Year? Usually, I set goal after goal in hopes of accomplishing great and mighty things. And while this is an admirable thing to do, I usually fall short and find myself wallowing in self-pity. So maybe this year, I don't need to make that list of New Year's resolutions. There's no need to aim for goals I know I can't reach. Instead, I think I'll focus on just learning to take one day at a time. That doesn't seem so lofty, and in fact, it seems like something I should have learned to do many, many years ago. Why haven't I mastered that feat yet? Why is it so difficult to practice the art of presence? Learning to live in the moment should be an easy thing but for me, it's not. I'm always, always, always thinking ahead.

Perhaps being given a second chance at life has helped hone my focus just a bit. Instead of taking life so for granted, I want to live each day forward with purpose. But how can I do that unless I become intentional about making each moment of every single day count? That's why I feel it important to learn to take one day at a time. 24 hours. 1440 minutes. That seems doable.

So I won't be making my long list of grand goals and plans for the New Year. That way, I won't disappoint myself. What I will do is take each day as it comes and enjoy whatever gifts or lessons each day brings. That sounds rather exciting, now that I think about it. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do. Starting now.

Okay to not to be okay

This morning, as I was busy doing some heavy duty cleaning in my bedroom, I found a tangled cluster of watches. I'd tucked this tangle of Fossil, Timex, Armitron, and Lorus,watches away after my life was forever changed by breast cancer. Although time was pretty much the only thing on my mind, I didn't want to spend a single moment focused on how much time I had left or how much time I'd already lost. I stopped wearing watches. After giving up on these time keepers, I found a new freedom. The 1440 minutes of each day seemed longer and more precious. I didn't want a single one to slip away.

The frozen faces of these watches stare up at me, their hands fixed. I gather the mess of metal and leather and hold it tightly feeling the weight of them pressed against my skin. It is then I realize not only has time stopped, but I've stopped. I've stopped living my life. I've stopped being me.

I look in the mirror and wonder who's looking back at me. I don't know this person. This woman, the one with the flat chest, the one who doesn't even look like a woman, standing in front of me. She looks sad and depressed. She looks lonely. She has low self esteem. Where did she come from? Where did the old me go? I used to be so vibrant and full of life. I used to be self confident and outgoing. I loved being around others and now, I prefer to spend my time alone. I know this is unhealthy. But how do I fix it?

There are days when living post cancer is difficult. There are so many unspoken expectations placed upon survivors by family and friends. Somehow we're expected to just figure it out and make things work and most of the time we do a pretty good job at hiding behind a mask of "okay-ness." But sometimes, isn't it okay not to be okay?

Some days are more difficult that others. Most of the time, I have good days. Although I'm in constant pain, I push through. I'm determined to make the best of a bad situation. Truthfully, I'm very blessed so I try to live that way. But there are days when I'm just not feeling good and those are the hard days. I try not to complain because I'm sure my husband and my children are tired of hearing it. Although they sympathize with me on the days I mention I'm hurting, I know they wish things were the way they used to be and so do I.

The weight of the watches has grown heavy in my palm. Why do I keep holding on to these non-working time keepers? I should just throw them away. They serve no purpose other than to remind me of the day time stopped for me. Maybe one day, I'll be strong enough to throw them away but for now, I'll just slip them back into the drawer. I've used too much time thinking about the past today.

It's a good thing I don't wear a watch any longer. I don't want to know how much time I just wasted but I'm sure it's more than I should have. You'd think I would have pretty much put all this cancer mess behind me by now, wouldn't you? But some days, it just overwhelms me.

How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon? Dr. Seuss