The Sum of it All

At almost seventy, life is good! Really it is. It's rich and full. My senses are alert to sights and smells and all sorts of beauty. Spring is rich and verdant. Breathtakingly beautiful. Flowers of pink and yellow have poked their shy heads out to the sunshine. A purple bloom is struggling desperately to be seen in the midst of tall, thin blades of grass. I am content with who and where I am.  But what makes life delightful and meaningful is deeper still.

It started over fifty years ago. As a quiet sixteen-year-old girl, I thought of myself as plain. I lived in the shadow of a drop-dead gorgeous sister two years my junior. I was afraid of my shadow. She was afraid of nothing. I had a handful of friends. She had tons of friends who congregated at our house often. I just hadn't caught on to the whole social thing. I felt like I was supposed to be her, but I was a failure at it.

Add to that the cheating that the whole Latin class was part of. This included me. The teacher, who was elderly and never left her desk, had us exchange papers and grade each other's tests. I knew it wasn't fair to treat the teacher that way. It wasn't right, but who didn't want a 95 or 100 on every test in that "boring" class?

I had a boyfriend who was a bit of a rogue. I knew hanging out with someone who was a rule breaker was a bad idea, but who didn't want a boy's ring on her finger, with layers of tape wrapped around the other side to make it fit? Around this time he was demanding more physically than I felt comfortable with.

I became tired of being known as smart. I stopped studying. I made my first F on a test ( in Algebra 2). I shot myself in the foot, with this anti-studying routine, and lowered my grade point average for college.

Life was the funnel of a tornado, tossing me and all these issues over and under and around and around. Should I smoke like some people did? Should I try to conform to doing, wearing, saying and thinking like everyone else? Who was I really? Who was I supposed to be?

A friend asked me to a Bible study some girls were having. This was great, I thought. I had been brought up in a church- going family. I knew all about the Bible. I would really impress them!

But when I got there, I found girls I looked up to as upperclassmen. They didn't know all the facts about God. Instead they knew HIM. He,was as real to them as any person in the room. He was actively involved in their lives.

That afternoon, the tornado stopped swirling. Like Dorothy finding herself in the Land of Oz, I found bright sunshine and rich, vivid colors inside, in the presence of a mighty God, who cared passionately about me. All the facts I had learned about Him now became real. He had been waiting for me all along.

The  pieces of the puzzle I had been stressing myself out about, came together. I was now the daughter of the King of the universe, precious in His sight. My name was now written on His hand. I was important, not because I was beautiful or assertive or smart or somebody's girlfriend or even as a church goer, but because I was His.

This is an old photo of Mother and me. Now that she has been gone six weeks, my mind is drifting back to how much of my life was influenced by her in a positive way. 

What would life have been like if I hadn't had her? What would life have been like for my four siblings if we hadn't had her for a mother? 

Mother gave us a love of the written word. She read to us out of a big book of nursery rhymes with elegant illustrations. My mind filled with the wonder of how words created images in the mind and beauty in the heart. It was more than Humpty Dumpty on a wall or Georgy Porgy making girls cry. It was an invitation into a world that was both magical and beautiful. For the rest of my life I have loved to dive into the deep, refreshing pool of literature. And Mother put that love into my heart that made me want more than just a taste of the honey of reading. 

Mother also enriched our lives with a love of music. She and Daddy both majored in music in college and sang beautifully. I was surprised to grow up and find out that everyone else didn't cut their teeth listening to Mozart and Beethoven and Chopin on big 78 records. Of course when we got older, we listened to the music of our own era, but we kept a love of classical music filed away in our minds. 

Mother also sang to us at night in her sweet, rich voice. Those times were the calmest and sweetest of my childhood. 

From her, we got a sense of what was culturally appropriate. We said, "Yes Ma'am," and "No, sir, " and received nothing with out using, "please " and following it with, "Thank you. " We knew that polite company didn't say rude words or spit or wear something inappropriate.  

Of course this is one area against which we pushed hard. In retrospect, those little niceties made people feel comfortable and honored. So those lessons have application today in a time when no one wears white gloves and few sit down to a formal meal and certainly not with china , silver and crystal. 

Mother taught us the importance of faith. There is absolute truth found in God through Jesus Christ, and she instilled that in us early on. What was truly important was found in God's Word, and we knew it. Today all five of us walk in that truth. That to me was the richest gift, because it invited me into a friendship with the Maker of the Universe. I am His cherished daughter and how rich life is because of that. 

The man in the moon and I are calmly staring at each other. From the screened porch of a friend's cabin, the hilly, most southwestern finger of the Appalacians, the night is calm. Crickets are chirping, "You're here. You're here. Relax. Relax." After the furious intesity of summer panic, this is sweet, sweet calm. Sweet, sweet rest. Sweet, sweet refreshment. Sweet, sweet gift from God.

Forever Changed

Here in Memphis there is a 5K run in memory of Forrest Spence, who lived a total of 55 days. Last Wednesday 's COMMERCIAL APPEAL quoted the co-chairman of the event, "the outpouring of love the Spences received during Forrest's life forever changed them..."

An experience of almost drowning in the deluge of love and support of God and His people does just that. As my friend Sally said of the experience of having breast cancer, "You'll never see things the same way again."

Friends called, sent cards, showed their support on Facebook and brought food, mountains of it. I don't know when I have felt so loved! When my granddaughter asked if all these people were our best friends, I replied that many weren't. They were simply being the hands and feet of Jesus to us. "That's what the body of Christ does.

And I am overwhelmed! Honored beyond belief to be part of this all. It's much easier to give than receive, but I felt His love as I let them give.

Some time in the 1960's, television changed from black and white to color. Technicolor they called it. I remember sitting on the sofa in my cousin's living room and marveling at the difference. What had been flat and grey suddenly burst into a rainbow of blues and greens and yellows and reds. Characters on the same shows I had watched many times before suddenly had blue eyes or red hair, instead of monochromatic grey. They wore clothing that was bright purple or orange or emerald green, instead of the pants and shirts and ties and dresses that had been variations on the color blah! Nothing was what it appeared to be before!

So life is after cancer. I stop and watch and listen carefully to the world around me. The neighborhood dressed in a lush summer green with pink and purple flowers in her hair. My granddaughter's giggle is a tiny bell ringing joy inside me. The smell of bacon and eggs being prepared in a corner of the gas station around the corner is strong, inviting perfume making me heady with prospects of home cooking heaven. People I love are timeless treasures enriching me with their presence.

So I begin this new portion of my life with joy in my heart and my little-girl hand firmly clasping the big one of my Heavenly Father.

End of a Hurricane

Here it is. What looks like the end of this storm of the summer. The oncologist said that all fifteen doctors on the board agreed that no treatment would be needed to follow up my mammogram! He dismissed me as a patient, saying that I no longer needed an oncologist.

God is so good!! Would he still be good if I had had to have chemo? Yes. Would He still be good if the cancer had killed me this time? Yes. Will He always be good? YES!!

My friend Mimi lost her battle with cancer last weekend. Is God still good? Yes! She would say the same as she delights in His presence! She is forever with the Savior she loved.

 It's devastating to her family and friends here with our feet firmly planted on this clay planet. She didn't want to leave her family. With her kind heart, she never would have wanted her husband, daughter and son to go through any pain. Certainly pain on this scale. They will always miss her vibrant personally and enthusiasm for life.

Mimi is basking in the presence of Him who loves her more than any of us here on earth ever could. And she knows His goodness. And that His plan is good. And that being in his presence, free of sadness and pain, is worth it all.

New Wrinkle

 Just as I'm relaxing and planning for the months ahead, a new wrinkle appears in the situation. Chemotherapy is now a possibility. The few tiny minute pieces of cancer that escaped a capsule are a highly aggressive form. A panel of fifteen oncologists will meet tomorrow to decide my future.

As my nurse-daughter says, "Mom, if there's anything you can do to keep the cancer from coming back, do it!"

That's logical. It makes perfectly good sense. It's really wise. But, it's MY body, MY hair and MY schedule this fall. That makes it altogether different.

Ok. Deep breath. Think. MY body? MY hair? MY schedule?

Who made me? Who do I belong to? Who rescued me from myself when I was sixteen? Who gave my life meaning? And still does? Who is my Lord and Master?

It's not MY body, MY hair and MY schedule. It's Yours, Lord. They're all Yours.

So, I'm up for what You will permit and give me strength to make through. In fact, You'll teach me and grow me. I'll get to know you closer. So, as the Ginny Owens song says,

            I'll walk through the valley,
             If You want me to.

But it still makes my stomach turn to think about it. I can still be trusting You and having a churning stomach at the same, can't I, Lord?

The news is good! Successful surgery, described by the surgeon as so smooth it was almost boring. Clear lymph nodes. No radiation or chemo needed. I couldn't have gotten a better report.
God is so good!
But, wait a minute, Would God have been good if I'd had cancer in my lymph nodes? Would He still be good if I had to have radiation or chemotherapy?
God doesn't change. And it's the knowing Him that makes life worthwhile, in good times and bad. He is just as good when everything goes well, as He is when everything falls apart.
Where I focus makes the difference. On Him. Not on circumstances.
How grateful I am for God who holds me!