Hot Georgia Summers and Childhood Memories

Oh, how thankful I am for air conditioning! It's such a blessing on these hot Georgia days. I don't know how we ever lived without it, but it wasn't too long ago that we did. 

As a child, we didn't have air conditioning. We grew up in a two story cinder block house on a large wooded lot with beautiful Oak and Pine trees. Thinking back now, I'm so thankful for all those trees! Their lovely, leaf laden limbs helped cut down on some of the sweltering heat that bathed our house each summer. The only way we had to cool down was to run around half naked, play in water from the garden hose, flip on our attic fan, or open every window wide. Usually, we did a combination of all those things but there were some days nothing seemed to work. 

I remember marveling at the hard, dry, cracked red mud from lack of rain and seeing the steamy haze of heat rising from it. We could barely wait for evening to come so things would cool off a little. As soon as cicadas started to sing, we knew it wouldn't be long before we'd get a little relief. 

I was so thankful our old house had real tile floors in the kitchen and the living room. That tile was so cool to our bare feet in the summertime, although I hated the way the floor always felt dirty and gritty no matter how many times Mama swept it. We were always tracking in dirt with our little feet. 

The attic fan didn't do much for us during the day other than move around the hot air. In the evenings, after dark, with our open bedroom windows, the fan would often draw in a little breeze that would gently flow across our bodies as we lay on top of our covers trying to get cool. 

One particularly hot summer, none of us could get comfortable. We fussed and whined and complained until Mama told us to go get our pillows. We thought she was going to let us sleep downstairs so we ran to get them, but she had something else in mind. 

I remember standing in front of her in my little white undershirt vest and my panties, the coolest thing I could wear without going completely nude. She took a large spray bottle and began squirting my pillow. When she got one side sprayed, she told me to flip it over. I did and she sprayed away. I had no idea what she was planning, but I was obedient. She did the same for my siblings. Then, she told us to take our pillows and put them in the deep freezer which was in our garage. So we did. 

I don't remember what we did for the next thirty minutes or so, but we waited. When enough time had passed, Mama got our pillows out of the freezer and handed them to each of us telling us to go on back to bed. 

Carrying that chilled pillow up the thirteen stairs to the second floor of our house, was a blessing! I could feel the coolness against my little chest and it felt amazing. 

When I reached the landing at the top of the stairs, I turned right and headed to my bed. Laying the pillow on my bed, I crawled up on the mattress, lay down, and fell asleep. 

Mama was pretty ingenious! Who would have thought to do something like that? 

Now, we buy cooling gel pillows! I have two in my room right now. If Mama'd had the resources, I'm sure she could have invented those and become rich!

Last night, as we were closing the garage door I heard the low, rhythmic hum of cicadas start up in the cluster of trees across the driveway. It made my heart smile. 

Cicada

I'll never forget my hot childhood summers and I have no idea how we survived without air, but we did. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about that now unless we have power outages or something. I don't think I could make it. I've become less tolerant of the heat now that I'm older.

Thank God for the person who invented air conditioning. He's spoiled us mighty good. 

When you can't walk well, write!

Since surgery, I've been having a lot of trouble walking. My knee is so swollen and sore! It hasn't even been a week since the arthroscopic surgery, so I should give myself grace, but resting is so hard to do! I'm a person who always needs and wants to be doing something. 

Today, I decided I'd do what I could. Usually the mornings are when I have the most energy, so I tidied the bed, pulled out the laundry from the dryer and put another load on to wash. Then, I hobbled out to the freezer to get some burgers out for tonight's dinner. As I did each thing, I could feel my knee balk. Though I was using the walker for balance, I'd often find myself putting full weight on my injured knee. I wasn't supposed to be doing that yet. The doc had said only 50% weight bearing right now. I had to remind myself to be careful. I definitely didn't want to re-injure that leg or undo what the doctor had just done. 

Next, I pushed my way into the kitchen, prepared items for dinner and put them on to bake. It was more difficult that I'd thought trying to hold a baking pan filled with food and slide it into the oven, especially when I didn't realize the Pampered Chef stoneware was still in there! That stuff is heavy!

I managed to get the stoneware out and the other food in but as I tried to do it, I managed to burn my fingers on the stoneware. As fast as I could, I hobbled over to the sink to use the lavender/aloe burn spray. My fingers felt better after using it. 

Setting the timer on the oven, I made my way to the office and fired up the computer. There was a story brewing and I had to get it started. 

On our last trip to Florida, I'd come up with the idea for a short story as we traveled through the small town of Sopchoppy. I'd mentioned it to my youngest daughter and she'd laughed. I told her I wasn't kidding. I was going to write a story and soon, she'd get to read it. 

The other night when I had a bad case of insomnia and had crawled out of bed at 1:44 a.m. the story was forming in my mind. I went into the guest bedroom and pulled up the voice memo recorder on my phone. In the dark, I lay there and recorded my thoughts. I didn't want to forget any of them. As they swirled, I continued to talk. 

The next morning, I opened the app and listened to what I'd recorded. My voice was sultry and deep - lack of sleep, for sure, but also because of having had my thyroid gland removed in 2005. Since that surgery, my voice had taken on a sultry, sexy tone. I thought it frustratingly funny. Frustrating because my voice had gone down a few octaves and my husband could rarely hear when I was speaking to him. Funny, because whenever I get a head cold, it sounds like I should be running an 900 number for phone sex. 

The story was fun to listen to and gave me enough info to get started. 

Since I couldn't do much else today, I had fun building my characters and lining up the setting. I sent the first few pages to my youngest to read. She just sent me an email telling me it was really good. I was happy to hear she enjoyed it. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't write. 

Since I was a young child, I've written. At first, I doodled, but when I learned the alphabet, I wrote nonstop on any and everything. I haven't stopped since then! 

I love that God gifted me with the ability to share my thoughts. Words have such power. 

Proverbs 18:21 says, "The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit." 

We have to be extremely careful with our words. You can't call them back once they're spoken. 

Writers must choose their words carefully to convey their thoughts well. I try to do that. 

Writing is cathartic for me. Since I can't do much else right now because of my healing knee, I'm spending time wielding words wisely. 

I hope you have a creative outlet. It makes life a lot easier especially in these evil days. If you don't, why not look for something you enjoy? There are so many things to try. I'm sure you'll find your niche but you have to start looking!

Perceptions and Reflections on my cancer diagnosis

On this day, 9 years ago, my life changed forever. I can remember so well the day I discovered the lump and how it made me feel. I was going about my normal daily routine and suddenly, everything changed. In a split second, I was overcome with fear. I didn’t know if I was going to live or die. It felt like my world was spinning out of control like all balance had shifted.

I went through the motions visiting one -ologist after another. Tests were run and surgeries were done. Things seemed to move at lightning speed and didn’t slow down until I’d completed radiation treatments. That’s when I had time to think. I thought about the past and the present, about all the things I’d done but also all the things I still wanted to do. I reconsidered hopes and dreams. I compiled a bucket list. 

I had no idea what the future held but knew I was going to do the best I could to live each day to the fullest. At first, it was a struggle. I wasn’t feeling great. My energy was zapped and I was struggling with a lot of body image issues. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all of those things were normal for someone who’d just experienced a major trauma like breast cancer. 

There was no instruction manual. I read all I could. I watched YouTube videos and read online blogs. Everyone’s story was different in many ways but much the same in others.
I felt like I’d been thrown into a sea of pink and had to learn to either swim or sink. So I let my will to survive take over. I knew the water was deep and dark. I didn’t want to sink, so I began to tread water. In that vast sea, the struggle lessened as I moved my legs slowly back and forth. I was staying afloat. It felt good. 

Days passed, and my broken body began to heal inside and out. I tried to stay active as much as possible. It was a challenge learning to listen to my body. When I was tired I slowed down or stopped.
I learned to process my emotions and gave myself permission to feel. I learned it was okay to cry, laugh, scream, or be angry. Sometimes feeling one emotion at a time, and often feeling several at once.
9 years. 

Back then, everything was so scary and new. Now, I don’t think about cancer as much. There are annual reminders, like National Cancer Survivors Day and Breast Cancer Awareness Month that always sneak up on me, but I usually make it through unscathed. 

Annually, I celebrate my cancerversary on July 9 – the day the cancer was removed from my body, but I also remember June 5 each year, the day the cancer was diagnosed. Both of those days will forever haunt me. 

The scars have faded some but I can still see them. When I run my fingers over my chest, I feel the smooth, raised area where my skin was sliced open. 

My arms still swell, especially in the summer, from secondary lymphedema, a condition caused by the cancer and removal of lymph nodes in both arms. 

All in all, as I reflect on my situation, I can say I’m blessed. Cancer is a great teacher. I’ve learned more valuable life lessons over the past 9 years than I have in my 65 years of life. And since that’s the case, I can honestly say I’m thankful. I’m thankful I was deemed strong enough to handle the trial of breast cancer. I’m thankful I have weathered this extremely unexpected, very difficult storm with dignity and grace. So many of my friends and family have not fared as well. 

Today, I look in the mirror and see a breastless woman but I also see a brave, determined, resilient person who will forever be treading water. I don’t waste energy struggling against the tide, I’ve learned to relax and go with the flow. 

Right now, I’m cancer free. I hope to continue to be able to say that for many more years to come, no, I want to be able to claim it until the day I die, but who knows? I’m a realist. Cancer could come back again. I have a friend who fought breast cancer and thought she was cancer free for 22 years before that ugly monster reared its ugly head again and took her life. If something like that happens to me, I imagine I’ll be angry at first, but then I’ll accept it and do the best I can. That’s all any of us can do when cancer finds us. 

Taking one day at a time, one moment at a time is the only way to make it in the world of pink.

These old knees ain't what they used to be!

 When I was a kid, I remember singing a silly song entitled, "The Old Gray Mare, She Ain't What She Used to Be." It was a song that always made me giggle. Well, today, I feel like that old gray mare. I am definitely not what I used to be. These 65 year old knees are wearing out. 

Wrapped up and resting

For the past 2 years, I've dealt with pain and swelling in my left knee. I've had 4 steroid shots and have been through a series of braces. While those things bought me some time, they didn't fix the problem and it continued to get worse. Finally, last month, I was back in the orthopedic doc's office begging for help. I could barely walk and knew if I didn't do something soon, I was going to need a complete knee replacement. I didn't want that!

Since I loved hiking and being outdoors, it was urgent I do something. I wanted to stay mobile as long as possible. Talking with the doc, we came up with a plan. After XRAYS and MRIs, the verdict was a lateral meniscus tear and severe arthritis. I knew the arthritis was part of aging, but when did I do damage to that knee? I couldn't pinpoint it. I'd had several falls over the last few years, including a really hard one on my right knee while in Israel, but this was my left. Did I perhaps damage it then too and not realize it? Who knew. 

So the doc planned surgery for the following week. He would perform an arthrosocopic lateral Meniscectomy, Chondroplasty, and debridement of the patellofemoral compartment and medial compartments. Now that's a mouthful! In essence, he was going to make 2 holes in my knee, stick a camera in one hole and cutting instruments in the other. Next he would remove the torn ligament, scrape out damaged tissue and try to remove as much arthritis as possible. Sounded like a quick and easy procedure...

Icing

Well, the day of surgery, I was pretty calm thanks to all the prayers going up from my friends and family members. The anesthesiologist was able to find a vein in my hand on the first try, which was amazing because that never happens for me. After being rolled into the surgical suite, I was moved onto a gurney and within a few seconds, it was lights out for me. 

I woke up in recovery to some pretty rough pain but the nurse was instantly there with ginger ale and pain meds. After an hour, I was able to go home with instructions to keep my leg elevated and iced. I was also given an arsenal of pain meds. 

Things went pretty smoothly until the anesthesia wore off and the pain set in. I wasn't expecting it to be so bad, especially since I'd been through a horrendous automobile accident in 1991 where both bones below the knee in my right leg were crushed. But I was younger then. 

I had a fitful night but managed to make it through. I wasn't looking forward to the

day as physical therapy had already been scheduled and I'd be making my way there in a couple of hours. Thankfully, one of my girls had volunteered to come chauffeur me to the appointment. 

My therapist was a young, oriental woman but boy, she was tough as nails. She worked me hard and I was exhausted by the time our hour session was over. As I was leaving, she said she'd see me twice next week and we'd continue for about 8-10 weeks! What???!!! I wasn't expecting that! Getting old sucks!

My therapist

So, I'm doing my best to look at the positives, which is a little hard right now. One day soon, I'll be able to walk without pain. At least I'm not confined to a wheelchair like I was back in 1991 for a year and a half and then I was on crutches for another year. Now I'm shuffle along on my trusty walker. 

I'm thankful for gel ice packs, pain meds, a sweet husband who picks up the slack, and kids who do what they can when they can. I am tired and I'm doing my best. 

God continues to prompt me to rest and I find it interesting that I'm currently reading a book on that very subject. I don't know why I have such a hard time resting, but I do. I feel so worthless and unproductive when I'm not doing something. 

Surgical sites and doctor's initials

The Bible says God rested on the 7th day. He didn't rest because He was tired, He'd just completed His work. If He deems rest important, I guess I'd better learn that lesson sooner rather than later, otherwise, I may have to keep going through physical maladies until I understand. I definitely don't want any more object lessons, not for a very, very long time. 

The book I'm reading

I was able to remove the bandages long enough to take a shower yesterday. I was scared to death I'd fall in the shower, so I had my walker half in and half out so I could hang on. I'd had to put waterproof bandages over the surgical sites before showering to protect from water, but that wasn't a big deal. After drying off, I had to remove those bandages, put new ones on and rewrap everything. By the time I was through, I was exhausted and ready to ice my knee again. 

Today, I'm going to take it easy until time for therapy. I hope I can do it. There's so much I want to be doing, but my knee is hurting so they'll have to wait. 

If you have good knees, love them! Take good care of them! Knees are so important. I plan to pamper mine after healing from this surgery. Otherwise, knee replacements are in my future and I am not wanting to go through that, especially since this surgery has been so painful.

Turn down the noise

 

Noise. It's everywhere, all the time it seems. And lately, it's been really getting on my nerves. 

From the time I get up in the morning, until the time I go to bed, there's a constant barrage of noise. My cell phone is pinging with notifications or ringing with calls. My appliances are dinging signaling the completion of wash cycles or reminding me to take something out of the microwave. And when my husband gets home, the TV is blaring. My senses are on overload. 

What I really want is to experience the sound of silence. 

Remember that old Simon and Garfunkel song, "The Sounds of Silence"? I loved that song. "Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again..." Yeh. 

It seems the only time I get complete and utter silence is when I'm in bed with ear plugs in (because my husband snores). And that silence I don't really get to enjoy to the fullest because I usually fall asleep. When I wake in the morning, the first sound I heard is the sound of birds chirping outside my window, but that's a sound I do enjoy so I won't complain about that one. 

Sometimes it's important to turn down the noise and sit in silence. When we do, we can hear the voice of God. 

I think that's one reason it's important to have a designated quiet area in my home. It's a place where I can separate myself from noise and distraction. It's nice to sit in that small room and read my Bible. As I focus on God's Word, He speaks very quietly to my heart. I enjoy those quiet times with Him and they're becoming more and more precious to me. 

Noise is stressful. Have you ever noticed how much louder commercials on TV are than the regular programs? They do it on purpose so you can still hear them even if you walk into another room. 

If you're like me and find yourself experiencing sensory overload, why not try turning off your phone, removing yourself to a quiet place, and allowing yourself the privilege of spending time with God? 

I've found He always redeems the time we spend with Him. 

Mark 6:31 says, "Jesus said to them, `Come away with me. Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest for a while.'" Jesus knew the value of breaking away from the daily demands of the people and noise. If He found it beneficial, don't you think we should too? 

 

Season of Rest

Have you ever felt God calling you into a season of rest? For the past several days, I've felt Him speaking to my spirit over and over again reminding me of the importance of resting.

For some time He's tried to teach me this lesson. I haven't learned it well. As a typical type A personality, I'm always going and doing. And after my cancer diagnosis, I really kicked it into high gear, feeling like I'd been given a second chance at life so I'd better not blow it. I wanted to make the most of every second of every day.

From the time I woke up in the morning until the end of the day, I was busy. I'd bounce from one project to the next, feeling like I was doing a great job at not wasting any of the time God had "reallocated" me. I was doing my best to live up to Erma Bombeck's famous quotation: "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'."

But soon, I began to feel overwhelmed and burdened. Yes, I was working hard doing things to be productive but there was something lacking.

When chronic insomnia began, I realized being unable to shut off my mind meant it was overstimulated. That's when I felt God nudging me to slow down.

So I tried. I tried limiting my projects. I tried sitting down to read for short periods during the day. I tried turning off notifications on my phone by using the do not disturb feature. I tried and tried and tried, but I wasn't resting.

My sweet husband did his best to encourage me to sit down and watch things on TV with him but I felt it was wasting time, so when I did sit to "watch" with him, I was also doing other things like small sewing projects or reading a book, or writing cards. I couldn't focus on one thing. I began to think I had ADHD.

"What was wrong with me?" I wondered. Something has to give.

So I prayed. I asked God to help me understand the importance of resting.

I looked up one Scripture after another on rest and found that every verse had one thing in common- going to Jesus. He wanted me to come to Him and allow Him to give me rest.

This morning, after doing my morning chores, I felt that still, small voice calling me - today you need to rest. And I wasn't feeling led to just rest physically, but mentally as well.

"Okay, Lord. I will try," I said. And then, I heard, "Don't try, do!" (in Yodaspeak because that's the way my brain works!)

I got a cup of cappuccino, grabbed my Bible, and headed out to the patio. While out there, wouldn't you know that God took me right to Jeremiah 31:25-

"For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish." Wow. That hit square between the eyes!

I prayed and asked God to help me learn to rest. And would you believe, I haven't done much of anything today? And I haven't felt guilty about it at all. That's huge for me.

The Bible says, "Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." If you are willing to admit it, I bet you fall into that category of being weary especially with all that's going on in the world right now. If not, that's wonderful, but more than likely there's something that's weighing you down or stressing you out.

Giving our burdens to God isn't always easy, but He wants us to let Him handle them. I'm preaching to the choir right now, but I hope you'll hear me, too.

If you struggle to rest, listen...the word rest means to cease striving. CEASE. That means stop right now! Learn to just be and know that it's okay to have a chill day. I'm learning and I'm finding it's pretty enjoyable.

Rest and be refreshed. It's good for your body, mind, and spirit.

Perceptions and Reflections on my cancer diagnosis

On this day, 9 years ago, my life changed forever. I can remember so well the day I discovered the lump and how it made me feel. I was going about my normal daily routine and suddenly, everything changed. In a split second, I was overcome with fear. I didn’t know if I was going to live or die. It felt like my world was spinning out of control like all balance had shifted.

I went through the motions visiting one -ologist after another. Tests were run and surgeries were done. Things seemed to move at lightning speed and didn’t slow down until I’d completed radiation treatments. That’s when I had time to think.

I thought about the past and the present, about all the things I’d done but also all the things I still wanted to do. I reconsidered hopes and dreams. I compiled a bucket list.

I had no idea what the future held but knew I was going to do the best I could to live each day to the fullest.

At first, it was a struggle. I wasn’t feeling great. My energy was zapped and I was struggling with a lot of body image issues. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all of those things were normal for someone who’d just experienced a major trauma like breast cancer.

There was no instruction manual. I read all I could. I watched YouTube videos and read online blogs. Everyone’s story was different in many ways but much the same in others.

I felt like I’d been thrown into a sea of pink and had to learn to either swim or sink. So, I let my will to survive take over. I knew the water was deep and dark. I didn’t want to sink, so I began to tread water. In that vast sea, the struggle lessened as I moved my legs slowly back and forth. I was staying afloat. It felt good.

Days passed, and my broken body began to heal inside and out. I tried to stay active as much as possible. It was a challenge learning to listen to my body. When I was tired, I slowed down or stopped.

I learned to process my emotions and gave myself permission to feel. I learned it was okay to cry, laugh, scream, or be angry. Sometimes feeling one emotion at a time, and often feeling several at once.

9 years.

Back then, everything was so scary and new. Now, I don’t think about cancer as much. There are annual reminders, like National Cancer Survivors Day and Breast Cancer Awareness Month that always sneak up on me, but I usually make it through unscathed.

Annually, I celebrate my cancerversary on July 9 – the day the cancer was removed from my body, but I also remember June 5 each year, the day the cancer was diagnosed. Both of those days will forever haunt me.

The scars have faded some but I can still see them. When I run my fingers over my chest, I feel the smooth, raised area where my skin was sliced open.

My arms still swell, especially in the summer, from secondary lymphedema, a condition caused by the cancer and removal of lymph nodes in both arms.

All in all, as I reflect on my situation, I can say I’m blessed. Cancer is a great teacher. I’ve learned more valuable life lessons over the past 9 years than I have in my 65 years of life. And since that’s the case, I can honestly say I’m thankful. I’m thankful I was deemed strong enough to handle the trial of breast cancer. I’m thankful I have weathered this extremely unexpected, very difficult storm with dignity and grace. So many of my friends and family have not fared as well.

Today, I look in the mirror and see a breastless woman but I also see a brave, determined, resilient person who will forever be treading water. I don’t waste energy struggling against the tide, I’ve learned to relax and go with the flow.

Me and my number one fan

Right now, I’m cancer free. I hope to continue to be able to say that for many more years to come, no, I want to be able to claim it until the day I die, but who knows? I’m a realist. Cancer could come back again. I have a friend who fought breast cancer and thought she was cancer free for 22 years before that ugly monster reared its ugly head again and took her life. If something like that happens to me, I imagine I’ll be angry at first, but then I’ll accept it and do the best I can. That’s all any of us can do when cancer finds us.

Taking one day at a time, one moment at a time is the only way to make it in the world of pink.

How do people react when they smell you?

Those who know me well know I like a certain perfume. I've enjoyed it for many years and have received many compliments on it. I guess it mixes well with my body chemistry and creates a pleasant aroma. When I walk into a room, inevitably someone will come up to me and ask what scent I'm wearing. I used to hesitate to tell them fearing my secret scent would be stolen, but now I share openly when I'm asked. It's a nice feeling to know others want to know the name of my perfume because they like it. 

Some people are very sensitive to scents, that's one reason I like mine. It's a light scent that doesn't overwhelm or arrive before I do when I enter a room. 

I remember, as a child, sitting in church with my mother. In front of us was an older woman who apparently couldn't smell very well because she doused herself in perfume. It was an overpowering smell and would cause me to feel nauseous. I told myself I'd never do that so when I started wearing perfume, around the age of 15, I did my best to find light, floral scents. 

It took a while to find one that mixed well with my body chemistry. At first, the scents I chose seemed to sit on top of my skin and linger there. Other times, they'd mix with the warmth of my skin and the scent would grow increasingly stronger throughout the day. I didn't find that attractive at all. 

I loved visiting the department stores where perfume reps would offer tiny free sample bottles of perfumes. I'd take them home and try them, often throwing them in the trash after one application. Years later, instead of giving free samples of perfume, the reps would spray the perfume onto a white piece of cardstock with the name of the perfume and the manufacturing company's logo on it. You could still smell the fragrance, but it was slightly diffused and would evaporate quickly. 

As I got older, I'd go into Macy's or Belk's and sidle up to the perfume counter perusing the various shapes and sizes of bottles displayed perfectly on ornate mirrors along the countertops. Sometimes, the shape of the bottle would entice me but more often than not, the scent won me over - that is, if the price wasn't prohibitive. Some perfumes were extremely expensive!

I never liked the knock off brands. They tried their best to copy an original scent's formula but never quite got it right. Though they were less expensive, those knock offs didn't last long and would often smell really bad after a month or so. 

When I finally found my "signature scent" I wore it all the time. Whenever I was out shopping, I'd buy an extra bottle just in case my stock was getting low. I didn't want to run out! 

One day, I went to buy my perfume and found it had been discontinued. I was mortified. Immediately, I got on Amazon and started looking for small businesses that had purchased large lots of the discontinued scent. I found several places that still carried it and ordered immediately. As months passed, I found it more and more difficult to find my favorite perfume and with much chagrin, decided to find a new favorite. 

It took a great deal of time and energy before I finally found another I liked as well as the first. Thankfully, my new favorite hasn't been on the market long so it's still very popular. I get the same type reaction whenever I wear it. People want to know the name of the scent and I gladly tell them. 

But did you know, even if you're not wearing any perfume, you still carry a fragrance around with you? And I'm not talking about how you smell after you've been outside working in your garden or mowing the lawn! I'm not even talking about how you smell if you've just cooked a big meal of fried chicken or some other smelly food. I'm not talking about how you smell after a good long shower or a hot bubble bath, either! If you're a Christ follower, you carry around a very unique fragrance. You carry the aroma of Christ. 

What does the aroma of Christ smell like? Well, it's hard to describe. It's not an actual scent, per se. It's more of an atmosphere or inner beauty exuding from your pores. When Christ dwells in you, you carry Him around with you wherever you go. 

Have you ever had a complete stranger come up to you and start talking to you like you're an old friend or have you repulsed someone without saying a word? If so, you've had a reaction to your scent. Those who are either saved or in the process of learning about Christ, or being drawn closer to Him, will find your scent attractive. You'll be like a magnet to them. They'll want to be around you because they sense something different in you. But those who are unsaved, or those far from Christ (They may have even chosen to reject Him completely) will want to get as far away from you as possible. Christ in you will repel them. 

Carrying around the aroma of Christ is a great responsibility and one we shouldn't take lightly. If you have the honor and privilege of wearing that fragrance daily, it's your duty to share His Name, the name of your special aroma, with others. 

We live in a sour and stinky world! It definitely needs a good dose of "smell good" (that's what one of my children called my perfume when they were small.) Never forget that you carry around a sweet perfume, a scent like no other - the aroma of Christ and you take it with you everywhere you go!

When the fear of cancer recurrence becomes detrimental to health

 

For the past nine years, I’ve struggled with waves of overwhelming fear of cancer recurrence. I knew I had an issue, but until recently, wasn’t aware of how much fear was affecting my life.

The fear began to manifest in physical problems. First, I noticed my heart would race even though I wasn’t exerting myself, so I started seeing a cardiologist. I’d had problems with hypertension in the past, but this was something new. After running a slew of tests, the doctor assured me I was OK and the three medications I was already taking were doing a good job. He told me not to worry, so I tried my best to heed his advice.

Next, I began having trouble sleeping. I’d done a lot of reading about aging and sleep problems, so I wasn’t too concerned, but when I started waking up exhausted. I knew something wasn’t right. The cardiologist suggested we do a sleep study, so I agreed to it. The test revealed I had sleep apnea, so I found a pulmonologist to address that.

I started having stomach issues and wasn’t able to digest my food well, so my primary doctor referred me to a gastroenterologist. After several tests, it was determined I had legitimate concerns. I was afraid I had esophageal cancer — the cancer that took my brother’s life — but the doctor assured me he’d do more testing. I endured two endoscopies and a colonoscopy, and even had my esophagus stretched. While I awaited the results from those tests, my fear grew.

An enlarged lymph node on the side of my neck freaked me out. Immediately, I called the oncologist and set up an appointment. She ordered an ultrasound. When the test was inconclusive, I panicked. I wasn’t ready to face cancer again. The doctor ordered a CT scan of my neck and one of my abdomen just to be sure there was no cancer there. I was thankful she was proactive.

When I received an email alert through the patient portal of my cancer treatment center, I just about lost it. Why was the oncologist calling me in to see her? If it was good news, wouldn’t she have called and told me? The fear inside reached epic proportions.

I called my husband at work and asked if he could take a vacation day to accompany me to the appointment. I didn’t want to face bad news alone. Immediately, he went to his boss and made the request. I felt a little more at ease knowing he’d be with me.

The night before the appointment, I didn’t sleep a wink, even with my CPAP machine. My thoughts were all over the place. What would I do if I had to face cancer again? I didn’t think I could do it.

In the morning, as we drove to the cancer treatment center, my husband held my hand. He talked softly to me and assured me that whatever the news, he’d be right with me.

After waiting in the lobby for about thirty minutes, my name was called. Grasping my husband’s hand, I tugged on it hard as I stood up to follow the nurse. Together, we walked into the exam room and waited for the doctor.

I did my best to control my breathing as the nurse took my vital signs. The nurse asked if my blood pressure was normally high. I replied, “No.” She turned the screen to reveal my systolic pressure was 157. I told her I guessed I was nervous.

The doctor came in with a scribe and her medical assistant. She barely greeted us before sitting down and opening her laptop. I tried to read her body language but couldn’t. She seemed to be all business.

As she pulled up the report for the CT scans, she said, “There’s no cancer on your scans, so you have nothing to worry about. And I see here that that you’re coming up on nine years being cancer free, so I don’t need to see you but once a year now, unless you have something that pops up in between time.” She stood and folded her laptop, then headed toward the door.

“But wait!” I said anxiously, “Are you sure? This wasn’t what I was expecting.” She nodded her head and put her hand on the doorknob. As she turned it, I felt a rush of cool air brush my face.

When she’d exited the room, I turned to my husband, tears in my eyes, and exhaled. We were both in shock. Neither of us expected to hear good news delivered in such a cavalier fashion. Sure, the appointment was probably the last of the day for the doctor, but gee, didn’t I deserve a high five or something?

As we left the cancer treatment center, I suddenly realized I wouldn’t be coming again for an entire year. I had mixed emotions. On one hand, I was happy to be walking out with good news, on the other, I wondered how I’d let fear overpower me so easily.

When I got home, I went into the bathroom and cried. The tears were a much-needed emotional release. Until that point, I hadn’t realized that every time I’d felt any kind of physical malady I’d subconsciously defaulted to “it’s cancer.”

I’m a pretty grounded person, but that afternoon, I realized I had some unresolved post-traumatic stress to deal with. I’d thought that I’d done most of that healing work over the past nine years, but I guess a barb of fear had lodged itself deep in my spirit.

Fear is a powerful weapon the enemy uses against us. The important thing is to learn to recognize it and disarm it.

If there was one piece of advice I’d like to give others facing the overwhelming fear of recurrence, it’s to give yourself grace. We’re only human. It’s normal to dread a recurrence of cancer, especially when it's come into your life and done a number on your mental and physical well-being. Sometimes, it’s necessary to get professional help to conquer it and there’s no shame in that. But please, don’t let it control your life like I did.

I once read a powerful quotation by Emily Freeman I’d like to share with you, “Worry is a thief, fear is a liar, and anxiety is their trembling, furrow-browed baby.” That sums it up perfectly. No one deserves to live under that kind of stress.

Nine years is a long time to deal with the powerful side effect of fear that cancer brought into my life. So today, I choose to release myself from it. And if it ever tries to rear its ugly head again, I’m going to lop it off and scream, “NOT TODAY! I am alive and doing well.” That, my friends, is my new mantra. I’ve fought too hard to let down my guard ever again. I am blessed and I’m going to start living like it.

The babies are about to leave!

For the past couple of weeks, we've been watching a nesting box in our backyard. It's hung on a huge Pine tree, about 4 feet off the ground. Inside the box are 5 baby Bluebirds.

One of the things we loved when we moved here was the fact that our home was surrounded by all sorts of trees. Living on a wooded lot, we've enjoyed all sorts of wildlife everything from tiny Hummingbirds to majestic deer, but the thing we enjoy most of all is when the Bluebirds come. 

Every year, around the end of April, a nest of pine straw begins to form in the nesting boxes we've put out. Slowly and methodically, the mother bird carries bits of straw, twigs, dryer lint, and even hair from recent haircuts. We try to leave a few bits near the base of the trees to help her out. 

Sleepy babies

After the nest is built, she'll sit there and lay her eggs while the male Bluebird brings her worms to eat. We don't disturb her when she's on the eggs. When we see her flying out to go get her own food, we know the babies have either just hatched out or are about to. 

From that point on, we watch and wait. About 2 weeks in, we start closely monitoring the nest. I watch to make sure the parents are away hunting food and gently lift the front door to the nesting box. As I peek in, I can see the growth of the babies and compare it to a chart I have that tells me about how old they are. I snap a quick photo and close the door. From what I've read, Bluebirds don't have a keen sense of smell so I can do this without upsetting them. I never touch the babies or the nest though, just in case.

As the babies grow and change, they begin to get more and more feathers. They start out a dark gray color and eventually start getting a bluish tint. Most of the time the babies are sleeping when I check on them, but occasionally, they'll have their eyes wide open waiting on Mama's latest catch to appear. 

Alert and waiting on Mama to feed them

They're so cute! I really want to pick one up and hold it, but know I can't. 

Bluebirds are only in the nesting box about 19-20 days, so these little ones are just about ready to fledge. Mama bird will come to the front of the nesting box and begin coaxing them out. One by one, they'll ease out and fly down to the ground. After their wings get a little stronger and the baby a little bolder, it will fly up to a low hanging branch and wait for the mother to coax it on its journey. 

I've been able to capture that with past broods and hope to with this one as well. 

It kind of makes me sad to see them go. It feels almost like it did when my kids were growing up. I knew one day they'd leave, but I didn't want them to. I wanted to keep them with me forever, but that's not healthy. Our job is to give them roots and wings. 

I'm on high alert for the rest of today, tomorrow, and the next day. I'm pretty sure I've gotten the timing right and the babies will be leaving no later than Tuesday. I'll keep you posted! 

Love Hate Relationship With My Phone

Cellphones. Love them or hate them? If I had to answer honestly, I'd say both. Sometimes I love the convenience of having my phone always with me and sometimes I don't. I love being able to receive instant messages, alerts, and phone calls. I love the quick and easy access to a pocket sized camera that takes decent photos, but I hate that my phone seems to control my life. 

Several years back, we had a house phone and our cell phones. When we were home, we could turn off our cells and rely on communication through our home phone, but that didn't last long. People began ditching their home phones to avoid an unnecessary bill and since most cable companies and cell phone providers didn't provide battery backups in case of power outages, home phones weren't what they used to be - the old timey kind that were wired in and received data from cables attached to utility poles. 

After a while, we cut the cord, too. It seemed unnecessary to have a home phone if we wouldn't be able to use it in the event of a power outage. It felt odd after we did it, kind of like we'd cut our lifeline to the world, but over time we've gotten used to the era of digital calling. 

But sometimes I feel like we worship our phones. I don't know if many would look at them as idols, but when we spend more time on them that time with God, that's exactly what they are. 

This morning, as soon as I got out of bed, I pulled my cell phone out of my nightstand drawer. I keep it there overnight with the do not disturb feature omn so I can sleep. I have it set so immediate family can still interrupt even if that feature is on, but I don't have to deal with other calls or notifications, which is a nice thing. 

After turning off the do not disturb feature, my phone instantly starts pinging with various notifications - Incoming messages, Facebook messages, news alerts, weather reports, and phone calls. I thought I'd gotten immune to the sounds, but this morning, they really bothered me. 

For one hour, I noticed how many irritations came in through my cell phone. In that brief time span, I was inundated with "stuff" (I could have said another word here, but I didn't.). I got tired of it so I turned my phone on silent and in the silence, I heard the Holy Spirit speak to my heart, "Which do you love more, God or your phone?" Whoa...There's no contest there. I love God WAY more than I could ever love a silly cell phone. Then, I felt Him saying, "Prove it." 

At that very moment, I was on the phone with my youngest daughter who calls me every morning as she's on her way to work. She's so thoughtful to call and check in on me and I appreciate it. We usually talk for about 30 minutes or more and in between the time we're on the phone and when we get off, my husband goes on his morning break at work. He always shoots me a few text messages to tell me he loves me and to check in on how I'm doing. Again, I love getting those messages, but in between talking with my daughter and receiving and replying to texts from my hubby, other notifications start coming in. A barrage of little dings and beeps keep me picking up and looking at my phone. Some days I feel like it's my tether to the world and other days I want to pitch it out the window, so I did something radical. I turned it off. 

With the phone off, I pulled out my Bible and had my quiet time, which was beautiful and sweet. I love communing with God. 

As I read His Word, I got the message loud and clear, He loves me and wants to spend time with me but sometimes, I let other things get in the way. Shame on me! 

The cell phone doesn't own me or control me and I needn't act like it does. And I shouldn't allow it to frustrate me to the point of exasperation either. It's supposed to be a useful tool at my disposal, so how did it become so much more? 

I think many have allowed their iPhones or Android devices to slowly but surely become idols in their lives. Though we may not bow down and worship them, we certainly give them more time and attention than we do God and that needs to stop immediately! 

1 John 5:21 in the Amplified version of the Bible says it so well - "Little children, keep yourselves from idols (false gods)  - {from anything and everything that would occupy the place in your heart due to God, from any sort of substitute for Him that would take first place in your life}. Amen (so let it be).  

Forgive us, Lord, for not spending as much time with You as we do on our cell phones. Help us turn off outside distractions and focus on You. Show us truths from Your Holy Word about how we are to live, love, and occupy until You come back for us one day in the very near future and help us remember, You created us to worship You and You alone. Amen.