Marlowe, Hildy and me the summer after Grandma died The night before my surgery, I received this email from my great-uncle Marlowe. HILDY HAS BEEN FEELING PUNK THE LAST FEW DAYS AND WENT TO BED EARLY TONIGHT. I WAS WASHING DISHES WHEN SHE CALLED ME TO THE BEDROOM. SHE SAID THIS IS STRANGE. “I’VE BEEN HEARING THE VOICE OF MY FATHER PRAYING FOR KIM AND HER SURGERY. WRITE THEM AND EMAIL AND LET THEM KNOW THAT ALL IS WELL AND THE SURGERY WILL GO WITHOUT INCIDENT. NOW I CAN GO TO SLEEP”. YOU HAVE BEEN…
It’s my day to blog over at Inspire a Fire. It’s just a short sweet post about childhood memories including my own version of George Ella Lyon’s poem Where I’m From. If need a creative challenge on this lovely Saturday, try writing your own Where I’m From. It’s a lot of fun (unless you are not a word person, in which case it could be a torturous experience.) Where I’m From – Family Heritage @ Inspire a Fire.
Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed. Matthew 26:39 I’ve been thinking a lot about a little farther. When Jesus was preparing for his death, he took his close friends with him to Gethsemane to pray. Three of those friends he took with him further into the garden. But even those three couldn’t go as far as Jesus needed to go. Where he was heading, he had to go alone. I am definitely not Jesus, and my circumstances are a bit less consequential. But I am beginning to understand a little farther. I…
Since my breast cancer diagnosis, dozens of people have shared their death-by-cancer stories with me. It is such a bizarre phenomen. I was diagnosed with a disease that kills people. I know this. I think about it daily. Being reminded every time I go out in public is tough for me. But alas, it happens. A lot. It’s hard for me to hear about Your uncle who died from prostate cancer Your mom who fought breast cancer for 10 years before it took her life Your best friend from college whom you watched wither away at age 20 Your nephew’s…
In the past two weeks Corey has had to help me do a lot of things that I didn’t figure I’d need assistance with until I was in my 80s. You know, like sitting on a toilet. To give you a glimpse of recent days in our home, the following is an incomplete list of normal everyday things breast cancer has made it necessary for Corey to help me with. Walking. Sitting down. Repositioning myself in my chair. Standing up. Eating. Scratching my itchy nose when my hands couldn’t reach that far. (When I was coming out of anesthesia this…