Your words have great power

It is amazing to me that it has been almost four  years since my husband had open heart surgery. I am forever thankful to the amazing doctors and nursing staff during his recovery.
It is a strange occurrence when someone you love is in dire straits. There's the time that flies as you try to gather all the information being thrown at you, all at once. It happens so quickly, then the waiting begins.  There were long hours waiting, just waiting. I try to take something to do at a hospital and we have a really nice one and there's a nice, private waiting room in the cardiac unit. I sat quietly and watched HGTV or read while I wait to see Don while he recovered. Ever thankful our surgeon requires his patients to remain in CICU.
I have always been a people watcher and you can't help but hear other peoples conversations in a confined space. I have heard conversations about other patients and extended family- when they arrive in town, when are they leaving.
At times it becomes quite comical, "well lady, no way that heifer is staying with me again, she ate me out of house and home but Lord, she makes a delicious potato salad" (Actual sentence I heard. I wrote it down immediately where I wouldn't forget)

There are those conversations that blow me away too. A family comes in- apparent older grandmother, her son in his 50's and a couple of 30'ish adults. I haven't figured out who the heart patient is yet but I've learned who their pastor is because grandmother says "he's just a baby. He's only 28 but he's learning." ( I chuckle under my breath.) I'm still scanning the room looking for a heifer that looks like she may overstay her welcome, I want her potato salad recipe.
Back to grandmother.  Apparently this sweet lady feels she has her finger on the heartbeat of the church. Then I sat for almost two hours hearing her dissect the entire church, taking it apart piece by piece, one by one. According to her, there's the lady that tries to do everything but she just needs to go home. The ones who do nothing and also need to go home. There's the pianist who no longer hits the correct notes during morning service. There's talk amongst the women that she has some dementia since her husband died, she says. Then there is the organist that just "up and left" .. well, what would make a person do that, she asks? (I think I might know)
Grandmothers 50-something son tries his best to temper his mothers comments but the complaints continue to flow like an open faucet and he finally just gives up. He is now watching HGTV with me.
I decide to put my earbuds in and listen to music while I rest, it's almost time to see my husband for a few minutes. I can still hear her.

Do we know how we sound in front of others? Because I'm pretty sure this lady was once a mover and a shaker. I've listened to the things she's done and where she's been. Somewhere along the way she got lost. She became jaded, bitter and critical.
Her words roll back and forth in my head, I can't shake them. I vow today to never sound like that. I am certainly not perfect and never will be. Lord please help me, don't let me ever see the world as this woman now does.
It reminds me of trying to work with someone like "grandmother" back when I was on staff at church. It was difficult to say the least but sometimes it was completely disabling. The things they said, the way the look at you, hangs in the air and you feel you can hardly breathe. Lord Jesus, please don't let me become like that. 

I sit here instead and start thinking of the things that have transpired over the last two months.
Almost six weeks before Don's trouble began I was anxious and I didn't know why. Something was afoot as my mother used to say but I wasn't sure what. I began to pray on it and after a while realized something was indeed coming. I knew without a doubt God was preparing me for something. I prayed fervently.  Will it be one of my children or grandchildren? 

Soon I came to understand it was to be in our house.

Have you ever had thoughts come into your head or remembered an old story and you begin writing it all down quickly before you forget. It just pours out of your head. That's what happened to me but it was prayers and scripture that began to flow out of me in the morning, in the wee hours of the night, driving down the road. It was constant and unrelenting. I didn't tell anyone, not even Don.
First, scripture from Hebrews. Then Proverbs 3:5 says, "trust in the Lord with all your heart... lean not on your own understanding"
From Psalms, "Be still and know that I am God"  Being still, hmm... not my greatest quality.
From Matthew, Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about anything, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what will you put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?" Then, Trust Me. Just Trust Me. There was also the scripture I did not want to see, how healing sometimes comes in death. Because as much as we do not want to see or hear it, sometimes the answer we desire is not what God has for us, or allows at that time. Our sweet friend and pastor of many years, Charles Anglin reminded us often.. God indeed causes things to happen but he allows them to happen too. During those times He wants us to cling to Him only. He may not have caused something to happen, it is the result of our own actions, but He uses those times to teach us how to further depend on Him.
There were many more passages and I will admit my knee-jerk reaction was fear. I thought what is about to happen? I came to understand, I'm about to have to trust God in a mighty way, in a way I've maybe never trusted before. This is going to be hard.
So, it began and The Spirit's urging prepared me and I was calm, I was at peace. After the heart specialist took me to see the results of Don's heart cath and explained what all was wrong and what had to be done.. I knew the God of heaven and earth had prepared me where I could prepare Donald. 

Psalm 19:14, KJV: Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.

The doctor who performed my husbands heart catheterization, was short, curt & quite rude if I'm honest. He seemed irritated we were even there. The words came from his mouth like he was mad at me. Maybe he was having a bad day, maybe he had personal problems, I'm not sure but what I was sure of was I did not want him near my husband again.  He said "I'll go tell him." I said, "No sir, you will not. I will tell him." 
I began to explain to Don what had happened, where the damage was, what had to be repaired, the urgency of everything and to help him understand we had decisions to make soon. They were still holding pressure on his artery from the catheterization, I see fear in his face now. I know how he feels. 
I begin sharing with him the past five weeks and what has transpired, how God has allowed me to understand that something big is happening but He is with us. We are not alone.  I watch his face change as he listens, there are tears but he is also calm and quiet now. But God? Right where He promised He would be. We are never alone. 
As we left the cath lab recovery area, I spoke with the attending nurse and told her we would not be using the doctor who performed the heart cath. She asked me why, I told her we had chosen someone else. I harbor no ill toward that doctor but his choice of words that day told me more about him than anything else. 
Don was covered in prayer from friends on the Warrior River to the wailing wall in Jerusalem. I am so grateful for God's urging, for the quiet tug of the Holy Spirit to listen, for praying warriors by our side. For the texts that showed up exactly when we needed them, the phone messages and visits. All those words--  "We are praying Leisa" 

"We are just down the road, call me anytime you need me" 

"The children wanted to pray for Mr Don this morning at breakfast, so we did" 

"We love you both" 

"I am still praying for Don and you" .. 

Yes, what a great reminder that our words carry great power. They can reduce someone to tears, they can hang in an ear for days, weeks, years, they can destroy a child or young adult. Words can wound our elders, our spouses or friends, our pastor and staff. 

Lord help me be mindful of my words daily. I know I fail sometime but I'm working on it with Jesus. 

He was mine and I am grateful.

 

Just a quick blog post today. One day I want my children and grandchildren to be able to look back and read about their family and our lives growing up. 

My Daddy was not a perfect man, as none are but as I have said before, he was perfect for me. 
Honor & integrity were important to him. He grew up in a family with seven brothers and sisters, he was one of the younger ones. 

Growing up during the depression he didn't get the opportunity to finish high school. I always try to imagine what it must have been like for him to be a football player and enjoying school when he had to quit and go to work at sixteen, to help his family. Then to think about how well he supported his own family as we grew up, without a formal education. He was a very smart man and imagine not many people even knew he didn't graduate high school, as mama did. 

He was a brick mason, he could also build anything. 

He made the best pancakes I ever ate. He made them in an iron skillet and they were 10" around. He would ask "you want one or two?

Along with all his brothers, daddy was Navy. He joined at 18 and was one of just over 850 sailors who survived a hit on the USS Franklin during WWII .. half the men on the ship were lost that day. I never heard him talk much about his service, only briefly once or twice. I never heard him complain about anything, ever. He was kind, gentle and full of humor, a good dancer, loving and affectionate. He loved his children fiercely. He was compassionate for anyone who had little material wealth, he had been that child and he held a special love for people in need. He went about quietly helping, not telling anyone. I was grown before I knew some of the things he did for others. He never told it.

He was pretty passionate about his hunting & fishing too. He would go fishing on a Friday and if you asked him Sunday if he had been recently, he would say no. That's a love of fishing. I remember begging to go, just the two of us, not the boys. I loved those times with daddy all to myself. He would buy me a banana flip and an RC cola and off we went. I probably talked the entire time while he wet his hook but he didn't mind. He taught me to pop that worm in half and put it on my hook. Once we landed on a crappie bed down below Gross camp and we had to run up to Mr Bills to get a second ice chest because ours was full. We ate good for a while after that trip. We fished that day until our hands were cramping up. 

Daddy at 22. 

When I was 8 yrs old, I was sick with a fever and mama had no sick or vacation days left. So daddy stayed home with me. We were not allowed much in the way of sweets at our house. (mama felt sugar was the downfall of man)  Mama went off to work and daddy went out to his truck and came back with a box of Fruit Loops. I was ecstatic! He and I sat and ate cereal together and watched television. Mid-morning after reading a couple stories from the Childcraft and probably to get me off that sugar high, he told me to get my shoes on. In my pajamas and tennis shoes he bundled me up in a blanket and off we went. 
We were going fishing. (Even at 8 yrs old I knew mama would absolutely die if she knew) 
To daddy, this was a perfect plan! 
We sat on that river bank and fished for hours. I remember him looking at me at one point, feeling my head with his hand. I can still see his calloused hands, tanned from the sun and rough from work, reaching for my face. 
He pulled two aspirin out of his pocket and gave me a drink of water from a mason jar he brought along. (he was keeping me hydrated, mama should be proud) After a few fish and a while on that bank I began playing around and slipped my foot right into that water. It was a cold day and my shoe was soaked. Daddy decided it was time to go home and we headed out. I was tired and ready to go. 
When we got home he tucked me in on the couch where I quickly fell asleep. 

He had a difficult time explaining to mama why he took me fishing.. I remember my mother saying something about "What were you thinking?" He replied with a simple, "What? You think I was going to make her sick? She's already sick?" 

It was the best sick day I ever had. The best. 

Today he has been gone for forty-five years. It seems impossible it's been that long since I heard him laugh or hugged his neck or sat under the protection of his strong arms. I was only 19 when he died but the lessons I learned and the time I had with him are indeed priceless. He was the one who taught me the unconditional love of a father. He gave me a view of Christ seeing his love for others. 
I live each day with the knowledge of the promise I will see him again. 
I'm looking forward to that reunion, Lord. 

Hope for the New Year.

Thoughts over coffee this morning.
This time three years ago I was waiting on results from a thyroid ultrasound & biopsy. Nodules found on a routine doctor visit had been biopsied. January 14th I got the call, Mrs Crossley unfortunately it's cancer. One nodule tested positive and the other is suspicious, I recommend we remove it all now. Eliminate the possibility of it returning there. I agreed. 

A short two weeks later, January 30th I had surgery. March 11, 2020, one week before we all heard about covid, I went to hospital for radiation. Life changed. 
Recovery went well and I read all I could on things to look for, treatments, life expectancy and curable rates. 
Fast forward to August of 2021 and I was finally scheduled for my "missed" skin check. When you are fair skinned and blue eyed you get skin checks. Your mother made you all your life and it becomes a habit. [My Springtime skin check was postponed because of covid.]
Now, three spots were biopsied and one particularly worrisome. My kind doctor called to tell me the spot on top of my head was indeed melanoma. My surgeon was recommended and off we went, surgery followed- a shaved top of head, wound vacuum, months of healing and massaging to stretch the skin. I feel by the grace of God, I did incredibly well but again, life changed. 

The only thing I could think about this entire time for almost two years was trust Jesus, just trust Jesus. I've trusted Jesus since I as ten years old. I trust Him every day but when life gets really hard you cling to Him- not just daily but sometime minute by minute, hour by hour.. you tell yourself, this day is only twenty-four hours, it will be passed soon, hang on. He will bring a new day or take me home. Either way, I am good. 

In our human frailty, we try to take situations & circumstances in life and make them what we want them to be. We try and manipulate the outcome to be what we want, when we want and how we want. We forge ahead with everything in us to make it all work out. The truth is, we are (were) never in charge. 
Looking back on those times especially the ones no one saw, when the home health nurse and my husband picked hardened ostomy paste (set up like concrete) from my head and sniped the hair away at my scalp for an hour and a half. Someone applied it out too far and it was glued to my scalp in a five inch circle around an open wound the size of a silver dollar. Those times, I trusted Jesus. 

Before the thyroid surgery I asked everyone I could think of in the medical field, who to use. Which surgeon, who, who?  Extended family, close friends suggested my surgeon, "He's the best Leisa".. and he was. He was a God fearing, praying man. I never doubted or worried going into surgery, I knew I trusted Jesus and so did my surgeon. 

You see when you trust in Jesus, He sends the right people into your path. He always allows us free will but the Holy Spirit guides and encourages and when you are at your lowest, He covers you when you have no words. He intercedes on your behalf. When you do not even know what to pray, He fills you up. 

There was one thing during that time I could not resolve. I needed to talk to my mama. If I could only talk with my mama I knew all would be okay. 

  

Well, mama went on to her heavenly home a decade before. What I never told anyone was the dream I had two nights before my surgery. 
In my dream we were on the beach, as I had been some forty plus years ago with my mother. We had gone down to Pensacola for a few days, just the two of us, I was seventeen. Just some time with her sister, at my aunt and uncles home. Down time was hard to come by in those days for mama, she worked full time. Daddy was struggling after a car accident had caused internal injuries. But we took just a few days. It was too cool to swim but we lounged on the beach in the sunshine like cats in a warm window. There were things brewing with me and although I had not told my mother I believe her intuition had taken over. 
Mama was a loving and good mother, the best but she was not much for mushy sentiment. She was a product of her upbringing during the depression. She saw no reason for any complaining ever. 
But this day while watching the waves roll in and back out I knew she had something to say. She turned to me and said, "Leisa, there is nothing in this world that would ever stop your daddy and I from loving you. You know that don't you?" Yes mama, I do but thank you for saying it.  
"You can always depend on us, daddy and I are here. always."

There are people who will read this and think "what hooey" or "wishful thinking".. but there are those of us who know without a shadow of a doubt a mighty God who always provides. Thank you Lord does not quite seem enough, does it? 

It's February already, hard to believe. I look out the window this morning at our birds hopping and flittering around the feeders, the lake looks like glass with the occasional ripple from a duck forging ahead. 

My soul is at peace as my three year anniversary of thyroid cancer passed only a few days ago. All I can think on these days, my Father in heaven is so good, He is all I need. My hope for the new year is to grow in faith, continue to trust in Jesus and share what He's done for me. 
Just remember, we are not in control as life changes. However, the beauty and joy is in the releasing of worry, of fear, of having to do it alone. Because you don't have to do it alone, ever. 
Make this one a beautiful day, make it count.