The Waiting Game

 Nobody likes playing the waiting game, especially not me! I'm a very impatient person and don't have time to waste on waiting, but sometimes, we don't have a choice. Wait we must. Especially when it comes to lab results and other medical tests. Then, we're at the mercy of a phone call or a piece of paper that comes in the mail. 

7-10 days. That's what the doctor said right after he'd completed my stomach biopsies. It's a disconcerting thing to say to someone who's already been through cancer. Naturally, one thinks the worst. Though I try not to, my mind instantly goes to the "what if" zone. What if I get the news that I've got cancer again? What would I do? How would I react? Would I do things differently this time around? Would I opt for chemotherapy instead of foregoing it? And the answer is a big, fat I DON'T KNOW! 

Not knowing how I'd react bothers me. Of course, I'd want to be aggressive. I'd want to do whatever necessary to live as long as possible, but how would I know if I was making the right decision? How does anyone for that matter? All we have to go on is whatever our doctors tell us. And we trust them. We trust them because they have more medical expertise than we could ever dream of but then, some of us, ones like me, start digging. We do our homework. We look at unconventional methods of treatment, grasping at straws, hoping upon hope for something that won't be as damaging to our bodies while still letting us live. 

I don't want to go there. I don't want to think about the possibility of cancer again. I've already been there. I've done my time. But I'm no dummy. I know there are no guarantees it won't come back again some day. 

Why does it have to be that way? Why can't cancer be a once and done kind of thing? Why can't we have a zap it, kill it, and be done with it mentality? Maybe because there's too much money to be made in dragging out the treatment...hmmmmm... What do you think? 

Of course it's a racket! There are big bucks to be made in cancer care. And since we don't have a cure or even know exactly what causes most cancers, we wing it. 

Today is the 10th day since the biopsies were performed. I am holding the doctor to his word. I'll be watching the mail like a hawk today and hopefully, I'll get good news. My husband says if there was bad news, the doctor would have already called and he's probably right. That old addage, "no news is good news," has been true in the past for so many things. 

My gut instinct says it's probably nothing serious but my mind says, "You can't be sure." 

So I wait. 

Please keep me in your prayers. But don't pray for patience! They say when you pray for patience you get tribulations to teach you patience. I don't want or need any more trials, thank you very much! 

I'll keep you posted and thanks in advance for your prayers. Have a blessed day!

Contemplation

 Sitting outside as the sun began to dip below the horizon, thoughts were swirling around in my head. It had been a challenging day. 

I woke up at 1:00 a.m. as the cpap machine blasted cool air in my face. Quickly pulling off the mask, I got up to check the machine. It still had plenty of water in the reservoir. I wondered why the sudden blast of air. Had I quit breathing? I made a mental note to check later in the day. 

After taking a restroom break, I crawled back into bed, reaffixed the cpap mask and drifted back to sleep. I slept until a little after 4:00 a.m. and was jolted awake from an odd dream. I lay back down and tried to get back to sleep. Finally, after about half an hour of restlessness, I got up and grabbed my headphones. I pulled up a YouTube video by one of my favorite ministries and listened until I dozed off. I slept until just before 7:00 a.m. and was able to silence my alarm before it went off. 

I was having an upper endoscopy at 9:30 a.m. This would be the third one I'd had done in the past year and a half. I wasn't looking forward to it. 

My husband had taken the day off. Since I'd be under anesthesia for a little while, they didn't want me to drive. I was glad he was with me. He's such a calming presence. 

When we reached the hospital, the parking lot was full. I was surprised to see that so many people were already there and wondered if they were visiting patients or if they were patients themselves. 

The nurses on the gastroenterology floor were extremely nice. I was thankful they were attentive and kind. 

Soon it was time for the needle stick, the part I always dread. It's so hard for nurses to find a vein in the back of my hand. Those veins are very tiny. Although she tried twice, she finally had to move a little higher up on my arm using a vein scanner to find one big enough for the I.V. 

I was wheeled down the hall into the procedure room and met another nurse, the anesthesiologist and the doctor. I was unusually calm and knew it must be from all the friends that were praying for me. 

The nurse helped me get turned over onto my left side and placed a device in my mouth that would keep it open for the procedure. Then the anesthesiologist placed oxygen over my nose and mouth as she injected a white liquid into the I.V. She told me to take a couple of deep breaths and I don't even know if I made it to the second one before I was out. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery room. 

A nurse sat at the foot of the bed monitoring my vital signs. She saw I was waking and asked how I was feeling. When I tried to speak, my throat was so sore I could barely croak out any words. 

I don't know how long I lay there before the doctor came in but when he did, I made a point of listening hard so I could remember what he was about to say. I was still feeling groggy and didn't want to miss anything. 

He told me he'd done several biopsies and he should have the results back in a week or so. He told me not to worry and to call his office with any questions. Then he left and the nurse began to remove the I.V. and told me I could get ready to go home. 

An orderly came to wheel me downstairs to the car. On the way down, I asked her how many patients they would see that day. She said the average was seventy. I was surprised.seventy endoscopies or colonoscopies a day seemed like a lot for an 8 hour period. 

I hadn't had anything solid to eat for almost 3 days and I was famished. My sweet hubby had promised to get my favorite, Chinese food, on the way home. 

We got home and I ate a little. I didn't want to overload my stomach, especially since I'd just had that procedure done and my throat felt like someone had taken sandpaper to it. 

In the back of my mind, I keep wondering how I'll react if the doctor tells me they found cancer. I don't know if I can go through that again. 

Since being diagnosed in 2014, it seems that thought has haunted me continually and I don't know how to get rid of it. 

I tell myself all the time that I'm not supposed to worry about anything - God tells me that in His Word, but sometimes, my flesh is weak and I can't help it. 

I don't think I'll be able to fully relax until I get the all clear from the doctor. 

My inbox holds an unread email regarding the upcoming annual National Cancer Survivor's Day. I've celebrated it every year since 2015, the year after I was diagnosed. This year, I'm not too keen on participating. I don't know why. I'm just kind of tired of cancer and everything to do with it.

We take so much for granted

Breakfast. Some eat it and some don't. I fall into the first category, believing that the day’s first meal is important. My husband, on the other hand, falls into the second. He doesn't like to eat first thing in the morning but would rather wait until lunchtime for his first meal. It's a personal preference and I don't fault him for wanting to wait while I prefer to eat something within the first hour of waking. We have our routines. But when my routine gets disrupted, I'm not a happy camper. 

I was slated for medical testing this morning. The doctor's office said I couldn't have anything to eat or drink after midnight. Since I don't stay up that late, my last sip of water was when I brushed my teeth, right before bed. I figured I could go without food for a while. I've fasted many times before but knew the water was going to be hard to do without. I've been dealing with a dry mouth and blocked salivary glands for months now and it's been a real challenge. 

So, I got up this morning and instantly realized I couldn't drink a cool glass of water like I wanted to because it would interfere with the test and I wasn't going to be able to have breakfast either. Rats! My mouth was so dry. I not only wanted a drink, but I also needed one! But since I couldn't afford to screw up the test by breaking the rules, I did everything I could think of to distract myself until time to go. I read my Bible and prayed. I checked my emails. I perused Facebook. I looked at the clock and waited. 

Finally, when the time to go came, my husband drove me to the hospital. We got checked in and sat in the waiting room. I watched the people that came and went while we waited. All were masked, a hospital requirement, but I could see their eyes and most of them looked concerned. None of us wanted to be there. 

Shortly after 9:00 AM, I was called back. The radiologist had asked if I liked applesauce and I said yes. He took a tube of radioactive liquid and injected it into the applesauce then told me to eat it. He said I wouldn't taste it so not to worry. 

The first bite I took was amazing. The cool, wetness of the applesauce tantalized my tongue. I wanted to eat a gallon of it! I was so hungry and so thirsty, mostly thirsty. After a couple of spoonfuls, he stopped me and asked me to lie on the table beneath the scanning machine. I won't lie. I was miffed. I wanted to finish my little lunch-sized container of applesauce. Poo! Instead, I did as I was told and climbed up onto the bed/table beneath the scanner and waited to be slowly inserted into the machine. 

There was a video screen just above and to the right of my head. I could see the image as the scanner moved over my stomach. There, in my esophagus, was a brightly illuminated area - the radioactive applesauce. After the image was captured, I was slipped out from under the scanner and told to wait in the waiting room for 90 minutes. At precisely 10:30, the radiologist said he'd come back and get me for another scan. 

Sitting in the waiting room, my mouth felt so dry. Those 2 bites of applesauce haven’t helped quench my thirst. Across the room was a water fountain. Oh, how I wanted to go take a long, luxurious gulp but I knew I couldn't. I'd asked the radiologist, after the scan, if I could have a drink of water. He'd said, "No, will alter the test results, and we don't want that." No, we didn't want that. 

As time ticked on, I became more and more aware of my thirst. My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert. My salivary gland on the left side wasn't working and hadn't been for months. Normally, I'd have been able to use the Biotene moisturizing mouthwash and lozenges the ENT had prescribed to help with the situation, but not so today. It was a wretched feeling to be thirsty and not be able to drink. That's when I thought of the thousands of people in Turkey and Syria. As I was feeling sorry for myself, I thought, "My situation is temporary. I'll be able to get a big glass of water right after this stuff is over, but they won't."

We got home and I had the biggest, longest drink of water I think I've ever had in my life. As I was enjoying it, Phil flipped on the TV. A news report said Turkey’s and Syria’s death toll has risen to 11,000. My heart dropped. I watched as images of rubble and devastation were displayed. The camera scanned the area revealing hundreds of homeless people lifting debris in hopes of finding survivors. All I could think was how cold and tired and hungry they must be, but more than that, how very thirsty they must be. 

Where would they get water? And how many days would they go without it? Would they resort to drinking from puddles or creeks if they could find one? Would aid workers to come with trucks full of bottled water? 

We need water to survive. Every single day we need water. Water is life. Without it, one can only survive about 3 days although there have been instances where people have survived longer periods. Our bodies crave water to regulate our temperature and feed our cells. 

We take access to clean water for granted. So many don't have that right. I pray, the next time you bring a cup to your lips before you even take one sip, you'll thank God for the gift of clean water and think about all those who are longing for refreshment. 

Can you imagine going for days and days without water? I can't. Fourteen hours without water just about did me in. Worse than going without physical water for me would be going without living water. Though my physical body will thirst again and again, my spirit is always quenched with the living water Christ provides. 

John 7: 37-39 says, "Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them." Living water? In this passage, Jesus was referring to the Holy Spirit whom His followers had yet to receive but would shortly after He had been glorified.

The well of Living Water never runs dry because it's fed by God. Our wells, rivers, lakes, and streams can dry up if conditions aren't right. One gives temporary refreshment while the other gives eternal refreshment. Which would you rather have? I'd rather have the one I know will never run out! What about you?

They grow up too fast!

 

Items she collected on our walk

There's nothing sadder than watching the innocence of childhood come to an end. 

This weekend, while spending time with one of my granddaughters, I realized she's not a little girl any longer. 

At 9 years of age, the changes have come subtly but this weekend, as I watched her, I realized she's teetering on the edge of teenage life. 

I'm thankful for the time I get to spend with her. It isn't a lot, usually once a month and at major holidays and birthdays. I'd love to have more but I'll take what I can get at this point. 

We did a lot of things while she was here. I always try to find fun ways to keep her entertained without plopping her in front of the TV. 

The first thing we did was a science experiment. We talked about density, volume, and air. I used a bar of regular soap and a bar of Ivory soap to help give her a visual explanation. She laughed as we put the bar of regular soap in the bowl of water and it immediately sank to the bottom. Then, stood in awe watching the bar of Ivory float. Next, we took a bar of Ivory and put it in the microwave. I pulled up a chair so she could watch as the changes took place. Her eyes grew big as saucers as the soap began to expand filling my microwave with lush white clouds. When we took it out, I let her hold it. "It's light as a feather," she exclaimed. Then, I showed her how quickly the cloud would disappear if she crumbled it in her hands. The soap instantly became soap flakes. 

We went outside and did a nature walk where we discovered 5 garden slugs beneath the downspouts. She was intrigued with them and asked if we could pick them up. I found a piece of an old wooden slat and showed her how to gently lift a slug without harming it. 

She studied that slug for a long time, watching it move slowly across a piece of bark leaving a shiny, slimy trail. She looked up at me and said, "Gigi, do you know slugs are Gastropods?" I was amazed at this little one. Of course, she's very intelligent and loves to watch any and everything about nature, but she's always taken a special interest in insects and other small creatures since she was a tiny thing. 

I sat beside her and together we watched the slug maneuver his way up and then down the leaf of an Iris plant. Her eyes twinkled as she asked me how slugs move without any legs. I had a chance to teach her about the muscle contractions some animals and insects use and realized, though we were just outside enjoying nature, we were also having quite a homeschool lesson. 

We came inside after our adventure and I taught her how to make homemade play dough. I'd made it for her in the past but I'd always done all the measuring and cooking. This time, I allowed her that honor giving instructions as she worked. 

The precious memories we made that day are priceless. I know it won't be long before she won't care about taking nature walks with her Gigi and she'll be more interested in clothes and makeup than studying slugs. It makes me sad to think those days are coming to an end, but that's life. She has to grow up even if I don't want her to. 

The New Year has begun

 It's hard to believe we're already on the third day of the new year. 2023 came fast and hard. I'm afraid it's going to be a tough year for many. 

Yesterday, Phil and I decided to visit Callaway Gardens again. We've had an annual membership for some time and always enjoy going to visit the butterfly house there.When we arrived, there weren't many people and we wondered if perhaps the gardens were closed, but they were open. 

We drove through the gardens and were surprised to see the Christmas lights still up. We've never had the opportunity to see them lit, but according to the varied displays we saw as we drove, it must have been spectacular. 

When we pulled into the parking lot of the Day Butterfly Center, we noticed they'd recently graded the parking lot and made it a lot bigger. That was a much needed change that will provide places for many more guests. 

We went inside and just in the foyer was a large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Though Christmas was technically over, we enjoyed looking at it and longing for the next Christmas to come. 

Approaching the doors to the butterfly conservatory, we couldn't help but notice the wall of hatchlings next to us. Row upon row of beautiful cocoons hung there. Some cocoons were large and some were small. Several new butterflies hung from cocoons as the new creatures pumped their wings and prepared for flight. 

We opened the door to the conservatory and were immediately blasted with air. The staff have this purposely orchestrated to keep the butterflies in the center instead of allowing them to escape as people come and go. 

Hundreds of butterflies were in the air. The colors were brilliant as we walked down the path through the lush greenery. I took several photos of plants I'd never seen before. Their blooms were gorgeous and made me wonder what a tropical paradise would be like. 

Within a few minutes, I was able to move my finger in front of a pretty butterfly. As I waited patiently, it climbed on my finger and sat there while another butterfly moved quickly past. I felt the quick brush of wings and thought of the song, "Butterfly kisses." 

I held my special friend for a few minutes admiring its beauty. Then, I looked for a child to pass the creature on to and saw a little oriental boy just ahead of me. Slowly I walked toward him, smiling. He smiled back and as I extended my hand to ask if he wanted to hold the butterfly, he shied away, hiding behind his father's leg. 

The mother came alongside me and I began to speak to her. I wasn't sure they understood English and I could only remember a few phrases in Mandarin, so I spoke slowly hoping someone in the group could understand me. 

The father, little boy, and grandmother leaned in to look at the butterfly as I explained to the mother that they don't bite and I'd love to pass the creature on to one of them to enjoy. 

I held out my hand and the father stepped forward. I said, "Hold out your hand," and as he did, I slipped the butterfly slowly onto his finger. The little boy watched carefully as his father held the butterfly but was still afraid and didn't want to hold it. 

I stepped back and smiled. The father was so excited to hold the butterfly. It warmed my heart to see the joy on his face. 

We wandered through the rest of the center and then headed outside to hike. Although it was January, the day was warm and perfect for hiking. 

When it was time for lunch, we took our time making it to the picnic tables at Robin Beach. I unpacked the sandwiches I'd made and we sat down to eat. 

A large flock of Canada Geese flew overhead in a beautiful V formation before landing on the lake. 

It was a good day and we enjoyed our time outdoors. 

We're hoping this new year will be filled with opportunities to enjoy being out in nature. Both Phil and I love being outside. 

May the new year bring you chances for adventure, too. We could all use a little more of that in our lives. 

Merry Christmas to me!

Today was my 6 month check up with the oncologist. I arrived about fifteen minutes early and took a seat in the waiting room. As I sat, waiting to be called back, the room slowly filled up with other patients. 

As I looked around the room, I noticed the various ages. The majority of people were my age or a little older and it made me sad to see so many with cancer. 

I could only see their eyes since everyone was having to wear masks. I looked at one or two people and they turned away. Though I was smiling at them beneath my mask, I wondered if they could tell. Did my eyes twinkle with friendliness? I hoped they did. 

Two elderly ladies sat next to me. When one turned toward me, I said, "Good Morning!" and instantly received a greeting back. Thank goodness there are some friendly people in the world. 

A few minutes later, I was called back. Instead of stopping at the scale first, they took me straight to the lab. I made small talk with the lab tech and watched as she pulled out a butterfly needle for my stick. She remembered I was a "hand only" stick due to the lymphedema in my arms. I was glad I didn't have to go through the whole spiel about why she couldn't use my arms like they usually do for blood draws. 

When she'd taken my blood, the nurse was waiting for me. Now it was time for the yucky part, weigh in. I stepped on the scale hoping I hadn't gained any weight and was pleasantly surprised to find out I'd lost 5 pounds! 

We sauntered down the hallway to the exam room, talking about our Christmas plans. Inside the room, Lolly (yes, that was her real name) took my vital signs. 

Dr. P came in a few minutes later and I couldn't help but smile. He was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. I remarked on it and he said they were having a staff party today and he was hoping to win the contest. 

We chatted a few minutes and I voiced a few concerns as he pulled up my lab results that had already been posted. He said my tumor markers were great, which was a wonderful relief to me! 

When he performed his physical exam, he hovered over the place at my left clavicle. As he moved the tumor around, he said, "I'm almost positive it's a lipoma so don't worry." He reminded me we'd already done an ultrasound on it and and MRI and nothing of concern showed up. He didn't feel we needed to do any more testing and I was glad to hear that. 

I asked when he wanted me to see him again and he smiled a big smile and said, "How about 6 months from now?" I said it sounded good to me. 

As I left his office, I felt like I was walking on cloud 9. I was so elated at the news that my tumor markers were good. Why is it that we always tend to expect the worst? 

So now, I am breathing easier and feel a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. No one understands what it's like to play the constant "what if" game over and over again in your mind unless you've been through a bout with cancer. It's like being on a never ending roller coaster. Some days are up and some days are down and if you're lucky, you get a nice long stretch of level ground in between there.

Conflicted

Tomorrow is the big day. It's my annual visit to the oncologist. I'm struggling with my feelings. While I want to be hopeful and optimistic, I'm feeling fearful and filled with trepidation. 

Piedmont Hospital

Normally, these visits are uneventful. I go to the lab for bloodwork, where they do the typical tumor marker tests, and then I see the doctor. He usually sits and talks with me for about ten or fifteen minutes and then says, "I'll let you know if there's anything concerning on your bloodwork. See you next year!" And that's that. I leave the office and breathe easy for a while until it's time to do it all over again. But this time, I have several things to discuss with him, and since it's about time for me to have another PET scan, I'm expecting him to order one of those. 

And that's why I wonder, when and if, I'll ever be able to put cancer in the rearview. 

Today on Facebook, I got word of another friend whose cancer has returned. It seems every friend I've had, who shared a breast cancer diagnosis and took chemotherapy, has either passed away or had their cancer return. I, on the other hand, am still here. I can't help but wonder why. 

PET scanner

My faith, I'm sure, is the key factor in all of this. Without it, I imagine I'd be gone, too. But I keep telling myself God has a reason for me to still be here. There must be something more I'm supposed to do. 

This is a hard, hard time of year though for so many people. 

I was looking back through my iCloud photos from the past year and realized I've not only lost several friends, but I'd also had many friends who've lost their spouses. My heart grieves for all the losses. Sometimes, life is so hard. 

Our tree

Not only that, at Christmas, families are supposed to be together but so many are broken. And while I wish I could say mine hasn't suffered that fate; it has. Oh, if only things could be the way they're supposed to be, but all we can do is keep on praying and keep on believing that one day, wounds will be healed, and fences mended. 

Gosh. I didn't mean for this to be such a depressing post! I'm sorry! Don't get the wrong idea - I do have hope. 

Christmas is one of my most favorite times of the year. I love decorating! I love buying gifts and wrapping them. I love having some of my children and grandchildren here for the holidays. Sure, I'd love to have them all here with me, but they have families of their own and I have to be understanding. 

My advent wreath

I remember the days when my children were small. I had to split the Christmas holidays between visiting my parents and my in laws. By the time the day was done, everyone was worn out. One year, we decided to stay home and enjoy Christmas at our house. You'd think we committed a mortal sin by the way the parents and in laws acted, but I didn't care. I wanted my children to enjoy a very special time in their own home. We invited people to join us at our house and eventually, they came around, but I never heard the end of it. Sometimes you have to fight for your rights, even if it makes others a little miffed. 

Over the past few days, I've taken a step back from all of the hullabaloo associated with Christmas prep. I've asked God to shift my focus. Thankfully, since Hanukkah overlaps Christmas this year, I've been able to celebrate that along with Advent. Both of those have helped me think more about God and His wonderful love for us.

My menorah & nativity

No matter what news I receive from this oncology visit, I'm going to look forward to celebrating the new year by taking one day at a time. 

The Bible says none of us are promised tomorrow. Since I was diagnosed with cancer, God's given me the gift of being able to see that in a very real way. 

I'm so thankful He's seen fit to let me continue to live a little longer. I sure hope I don't any of the blessings He's given me for granted. 

Please offer up a prayer for me tomorrow and thank you in advance.

Many blessings, 

Bonnie

Breast Cancer Camaraderie is Real

The breast cancer community is made up of men and women who understand the importance of camaraderie. By showing each other love and support, no one ever feels alone. 

One of my friends went in for a diagnostic mammogram today. She’d opted to keep her breasts after her diagnosis with cancer, while I did not. That means she'll continue to have routine mammograms periodically for the rest of her life. And while I can't judge her for her decision, I wish she didn't have to go through the trauma of constant testing.

Having your breasts removed doesn't guarantee you'll never have breast cancer again. It just means if it ever returns, no matter where it decides to show up, it'll still be considered breast cancer — metastatic breast cancer.
It's a bum rap if you ask me. It seems that if you lop off your breasts, your chances of a recurrence should be nil, but that's not the case. And that makes me nervous.
When my friend told me about her mammogram, I immediately put it on my phone calendar adding an alert one day in advance, so I’d be reminded to pray for her. I’d also put in an alert for the same day as the test. I wanted to shoot her a text message letting her know she was on my heart.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but her scheduled test affected me negatively. It felt like I was right there with her. I could almost see myself moving forward with the mammography machine in front of me. I could almost hear the technician telling me to hold still as she lowered the cold plate down onto my breast. I imagined feeling the pain of the plates squeezing my breast as the tech went through the imagine process and could feel myself exhale as the plates lifted and I was allowed to step away.

I was thankful I wasn’t there with my friend, but it sure felt like I had been.

Camaraderie in the cancer community is real. If you don’t believe me, check out some of the breast cancer Facebook groups. Whenever someone posts about an upcoming test or facing a fearful situation, her sisters will rally offering words of hope and encouragement.
We need each other.

That’s one of the most powerful things I realized as I was going through my diagnosis and treatment. I never felt alone, even when I was alone, because there were always others with me in spirit. We may have lived hundreds of miles apart, but I knew I could count on someone to be available whenever I needed them. They were only a few keystrokes away.

There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about the possibility of recurrence. I try not to dwell on it, but if I'm honest, I must admit the thought crosses my mind at least once, if not more, times a day.

I keep wondering how long it will take to forget about cancer. It's been eight years since I was diagnosed. You'd think that would be more than enough time to forget about it, but I haven’t been able to just yet.

My friend messaged me in the early afternoon on the day of her test. She’d thought she’d have the results the same day, but that wasn’t the case. I texted right back and told her I was praying for good results and told her not to worry. She said she’d let me know as soon as the results came in.

That night, I found myself thinking about her a lot. I wondered how she would react if the test revealed a recurrence of cancer. I imagined it would be devastating for her, but I also knew how strong she was. No matter what happened, good or bad, I felt in my heart she’d be OK.

Later the following day, she called and gave me the good news: no cancer recurrence! I was overjoyed for her and cried tears of happiness with her. It felt good to finally let out a sigh of relief. She expressed gratitude for my prayers, and I reminded her we both had much for which to be thankful.

Now she goes through another period of waiting. She’ll have a whole year to forget about cancer until time for her next mammogram and then, the process will start all over again.

In the meantime, I’m hoping she’ll take advantage of doing things she enjoys without feeling overshadowed by all the what ifs cancer brings. I’m going to do my best to be there for her celebrating the mundane. 

We don’t always have to focus on the big things. We can celebrate the small things, too. Those day-to-day occurrences we often overlook are just as important as the huge milestones. Taking a breath can be just as significant as letting one go.

Remember those high school days when you’d attend a pep rally before a football game? The cheerleaders would lead students in a string of rousing cheers that would get them “all fired up?” Well, the breast cancer community is like that. Camaraderie can help foster perseverance, strength, and hope. It’s a powerful force to love others and show them support.

I hope you’ll have the opportunity to be on someone’s support team. It will not only bless them, it will also bless you.

Making Memories

Yesterday, my granddaughter, Heather, came over to bake cookies with me. For the past several years, I've had the honor of baking with her while her Mommy finishes up some last-minute Christmas shopping. It's a win win for all of us. I get to spend precious one on one time with Heather and Laura gets to have some much-needed Mommy time. 

This year was a little different. Heather's gotten older and is able to do a lot more than she'd been able to do in years past. Since she could read well and follow instructions, I decided to let her do as much as she could. 

We started out by pulling out ingredients. As I'd call out what we needed, she'd run to the pantry and look for the items. When she couldn't find something, I'd give her clues to help her located each one. After they were all assembled on the kitchen island, I pulled out a new Christmas apron I'd bought for each of us, and we put them on. The bright red aprons would protect our clothing from flour and other ingredients if we decided to get a little messy. 

Playing Jenga

Pulling out a large mixing bowl and wooden spoon, I gave Heather the recipe and we walked through it step by step. As she read down the instructions, we talked about what we'd use to carry out each task. I told her we'd need measuring spoons, measuring cups, a rolling pin, and cookie cutters to start with and then later on, we'd need decorating bags and various tips as well as royal icing. 

She was so excited as we began. Carefully, I helped her measure each ingredient and place it into the bowl. She was so tickled to use a little baking set Laura had purchased for her. There were multicolored measuring spoons, a tiny scraper, a little whisk, and a miniature rolling pin. 

When we had all the ingredients in the bowl, I pulled out the electric mixer and turned it on. I let her hold it with me for a few minutes so she could get used to how it felt and then, I let her hold it on her own. You should have seen her eyes get huge as the mixer wobbled in the bowl and she tried to control it! Thankfully, she was brave enough to hold on tight. 

We got the dough all mixed up and popped it in the fridge to chill. As it was chilling, we played a couple of games of Jenga, listened to some Christmas music, and she rewatched a quick children's video, Noel, the Happy Christmas Ornament. 

About an hour later, we pulled the dough out of the fridge and got busy rolling out the dough. Heather tried her best with that little rolling pin, but soon realized it wasn't doing the job well enough. She found my large, marble rolling pin to be much more efficient. 

We had such fun cutting out cat, dog, snowflake, gingerbread men and women, and other cute critters. 

I manned the oven putting cookies in and taking them out as they were ready while Heather worked on cutting more cookies. We made a great team and before we knew it, the time had flown! 

Stopping for a quick bite of lunch, we laughed over the mess we'd made in the kitchen. Sprinkles of flour were on the floor and the counters were covered in bits of cookie dough. Heather was worried about it and I told her we'd clean it up later. "It's all part of the fun," I told her. 

When the cookies had cooled, I pulled out the royal icing I'd prepared the night before. I'd made a bag with Christmas colors - red, green, and white. I affixed various tips on the bags and showed Heather how to hold and use them. Then, the real fun began. 

Intently, she worked to decorate each cookie. I loved watching her facial expressions as she worked and captured her with my cell phone camera. 

Laura joined in the fun and decorated a cookie of her own then showed Heather how to bite the head off!

I love making special memories with the grandchildren. I hope they'll think back on those special times as they grow older and remember the love that accompanied each moment we shared together. 

For me, being a grandparent means being able to share in a child's learning and growing process. We miss so much of the day to day growing up years, so when we have a chance to capture just a few of the minutes, it's a very special gift. 
 

Feeling Nostalgic

This is the time of year that I begin to really miss my childhood and it seems the older I get, the more I long for those simpler times. 

Today, I was remembering helping my mom set up the tree in our living room. We had an artificial tree, nothing fancy. It probably cost about $20 or $30 back then, if that and we probably got it at Kmart. My memory isn't as keen as it used to be, but there are many things I still remember so bear with me. 

After unboxing the tree and getting it into the stand, Mama would pull out the decorations. We'd always put the lights on the tree first. Usually, we had colored lights because Mama thought they were pretty. Some years later, we'd change to white lights, but during my childhood, we had the bright colors. 

When the lights were on, she'd pull out a package of tinsel. I always loved seeing that package of tinsel because inside the plastic wrapped box was a world of fun. Those shiny, silver strands of tinsel were the best! After she slit the box open, she'd let my brother, sister, and I begin to drape them onto the tree limbs. We did our best to be dainty about it, but every once in a while, when she wasn't looking, we'd throw the tinsel high into the air and watch if fall randomly on the tree. Before we knew it, that dull, dark green tree was covered in shimmery tinsel. To me, it didn't need anything else. I thought it was beautiful just like that, but Mama loved the decorations, so we always put them on next. 

The first decorations I remember were Shiny Brite ornaments. They came in a box and were very fragile, blown glass ornaments. Over the years, those ornaments eventually got broken. I hate it because now those things are collectable, and I'd give anything to have some of them. But anyway, I digress.

Among those beautiful glass ornaments were specialty ornaments. I don't know when she started doing it, but at some point, in our childhood, Mama began buying one special ornament a piece for my brother, sister, and I. She'd choose a unique ornament that represented some accomplishment in our lives or something that catered to a special hobby or event we'd participated in. Some years we'd get to help choose the ornament and other times; she'd choose it for us. It became an annual tradition and Mama said, "When you grow up, you can take your ornament collection with you to start your own Christmas tree." And that's exactly what we did. 

As each of us married, we gathered our box of ornaments and took it with us, leaving Mama and Daddy's tree practically empty. But it wasn't long before Mama was choosing new ornaments to don the tree. She especially loved the unique Hallmark ornaments. They were costly, but she didn't mind. We'd always marvel at the cute ornaments she chose. Each one marking something special in one of our lives. 

When the grandkids came along, she'd buy ornaments for them, too. There was never a shortage of Christmas ornaments in the house! 

That tradition of buying an annual Christmas ornament continues through our family to this day. 

It's always fun to look back at our collections and remember what the ornament represented but more than that, remembering the joy something so simple brought to Mama. 

My box of special ornaments has disappeared. I've looked high and low for it and can't find it. All I can think is during our last move, those ornaments were either left in the attic or got lost on the moving truck. They've just vanished, and it makes me sick. I've thought about trying to replace many of them, but I can't even remember all the ones I had back then. 

Now I make my own ornaments and make ornaments for others, too. I try to do a special handcrafted one each year. To me, it's a way of using my talents to bless others, but I still miss my childhood ones. Nothing can ever replace those. 

I remember sitting on the sofa late in the evenings as a child. I'd sit there and just stare at the Christmas tree. The twinkling-colored lights looked so pretty and the way they lit up the tinsel next to them was magic. 

When I was much, much younger, we used to have an aluminum Christmas tree with a multi-colored wheel that sat underneath it. As the wheel slowly turned, it would emit a color onto the tree - Red, Yellow, Green, or Blue. I loved watching the color change and would find myself hypnotized by the constancy of it. 

Oh, those days seem so far away but how fresh they are in my memory. If I could travel back in time, I'd find myself once again in our little living room laughing with my siblings, tossing tinsel in the air, and waiting for the big day to arrive.