Life changes but Jesus.

 

It's hard for me to reconcile myself to the dust that blew up as we traveled down that little dirt road. Less than two weeks ago we had dangerous flash floods in our area and more than one of my friends had damage from rising waters. But there we were, riding down that dirt road in rural central Alabama watching the dust roll up in front and behind us. 

It was a good day. We decided to take a couple grandchildren down to enjoy a day at local farm and pumpkin patch, Griffin Farms. There was much for them to see and do. They had a wonderful day. They slid down long, tall slides, played on hay bales, wandered through a real corn maze, had a hay ride and don't forget the zipline. They loved on farm animals and lay in the grass gazing at the sky. A good day indeed for children and Honey and Pop too. They tried boiled peanuts and ate cotton candy.
I selfishly want more of these good days. 

It has been a tough month or so. Mid-August in a routine skin check a melanoma was discovered on my scalp, right at the crown of my head. It was a speedy process getting the biopsy back, planning surgery and down to the wound vac that went on. We've learned a great deal about the process. I've learned a great deal about melanoma in general. Like, you can have it in your eyes. I had no idea before this. 
I was diligent about sunscreen before but now I must wear it all over, every day. When I'm driving, when I'm sitting in a window feeling the sunshine on my back. Why? Because melanoma can be deadly. Yes, it's the one skin cancer that can take your life. I will have skin checks very three months for the next year or more, then every six months.. Doctors hope they will not see a recurrence for 5 years. That's my best case scenario. Melanoma can pop up anywhere in your body at any time though. It also makes you more susceptible to other cancers. [I had thyroid cancer in 2020, likely caused by melanoma, we didn't know I had at the time.] My PSA to everyone- please do not postpone getting your skin checks. I have gotten annual skin checks since I was 19 because my mother always insisted. (I am fair-skinned and blue eyed) but mine was postponed due to covid in 2020. 
Life has changed, drastically. I will always be a cancer patient now, the result of melanoma.
I hope to be NED (no evidence of disease) soon but it never goes away. The information is overwhelming at times. It never leaves you, it sometime causes restless nights and hard days. I am determined though satan will not win this fight, I have a Savior and He alone I will trust. #gettheebehindmesatan 

There are things that are not as important as they were before. There are things that are more important now. God has allowed this in my life and it's the consequence of actions taken when I was young and some heredity mixed in. Melanoma may one day take my life but it's not today. That's how I want to face each beautiful day. It's not today. I want more days at Pumpkin patches, reading books, laughing with friends, loving my people. I've been learning pottery for the last 18 months and I want to throw a six pound bowl. I plan to see our church move into the new sanctuary and watch God's people use that building to tell and share the gospel. I'm waiting for my husband to build that backyard fountain we talked about, I want to hear the water gently flow over the rocks.  I've got things to do and places to go. I want to live to see my grandchildren accept salvation. There will be weddings, vacations, babies and so much more. 

Like, traveling down dirt roads with the dust rolling up behind you.. That particular evening at Griffin Farms as we rolled away, the sun was beginning to drop in the sky. The dust was thick, covering my car and sometime we had to slow down to allow it to settle enough to see the road in front of us. Life is like that sometime. It's hard to see the road ahead and we have to slow down to orient ourselves again- make adjustments and continue down the road. Then, through all the dust I caught a glimpse, then the further we drove the sun was in complete view, right over the tops of the trees guiding us.  

I thought to myself, Thank you Lord, there you are guiding us. Still watching over me, even on a dirt road, even with uncertainty of disease looming but there's Jesus. There are those who think those things are exaggerated and only coincidence. I know better. I know He watches over me because I've seen the evidence of His care, I've felt His presence in my darkest hours. 
I've had the privilege of expert care from praying doctors, praying surgeons who also trust in His divine healing. That makes all the difference. 

Don't forget those skin checks friends. It takes just a few minutes and could save your life. Go out today and live life. Call a friend, text someone you love and just tell them you love them. Be an encourager, get involved in helping others. There are twenty-four entire hours in this day. What will yours look like? 
Today is another beautiful day to share the love of Jesus with someone. Get going.. 

Trials only last for a while.

I've never been a melancholy person. I believe I can thank my mother for that.
I have bad days like everyone else but there is always the urging, pressing feeling to be thankful. I believe God gives us the ability to see things with hope because of His good and perfect gift. 

Just over a year ago I had my thyroid cancer removed, treatment followed and I'm still here. Almost two years ago my husband had bypass surgery after a stroke on both sides of his brain, five bypasses and his recovery is short of a miracle. He has a strong heart now and is pretty much doing what he pleases. 
God promises there are always blessings that come after the trials.
Romans 12:12 says "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." 

On a recent afternoon, from our screen porch I hear giggles of grandchildren playing in the house, Don is snoring on the couch. There's a light breeze on this warm spring day and I get a whiff of Mock Orange from the front yard. The smell as sweet as the memories of her. Mama brought that little Mock Orange from her huge shrub growing outside my childhood bedroom, it may have been ten inches tall. We chose a place to plant it together. Right here in the front where you smell it every time you come and go, she said. Done. 

As a child, early on spring mornings as the mock orange bloomed, my mother would quietly crank open the windows while I slept. It was the first thing I smelled when I woke. Those mornings she would likely have been up for hours before me, washing and putting clothes on the clothesline. (you know, the days before every home had a clothes dryer) Mama was very no nonsense and said, "I don't need a dryer, I have sunshine and fresh air." She loved the fluffy, fresh towels off the clothesline. My mothers self-sufficiency and low maintenance style must have been a relief to daddy. 
She wanted for little and needed only her family around her. She loved her flowers though. She didn't play when it came to flowers. Once daddy backed the lawn mower over something she had planted as the three children scattered to far corners of the yard. She walked out to view the damage and cried like a baby. Then she wiped her tears and gave daddy a look I can't even describe. Later she would say "we will plant them again, they will not bloom as long but they will bloom." My mother, the forever optimist. Blessings again. 

This photo taken early in their marriage, before children. Location unknown, likely the duplex they lived in when first married. 

Her last days were not as optimistic. Dementia had destroyed her reasoning ability and robbed her of most memories, lest a few. She knew her children (Small blessings) even though she could not always call us by name. Thankfully, my brothers and I were able to care for her at our homes until the last three months of her life. As I walked down the hall toward her, she would say "There's my baby girl." Later, maybe an hour or more, she would say "Leisa?" 

Yes mama, I'm right here. 

She had hostile days too, dementia does that. Irritability sometime, as do most all dementia patients. Most days anything could be solved with a piece of dark chocolate and an old episode of Perry Mason. 

One of my favorite things she would say while sick, "Donald, you are my favorite son-in-law" to which he would reply, "granny, I'm your only son-in-law" and she would laugh wildly. She certainly retained some semblance of a sense of humor. 

Her irises bloomed this year in my front yard, as did the forsythia the month before. The daylilies are readying for bloom now, the plum trees are looking fine and the sweet william have come back out. Wow, I thought they were gone. I never was able to retrieve any flocks from her house, I ordered some in her memory. I'll plant them right outside my screen porch in the backyard.
One of the last things she helped me choose when shopping, this sign.

Those last few years watching her suffer, often robbed me of my joy and hope until I could slip away and fall on my face before Him. It was very hard, definitely a trial but God's Holy Word promises nothing suffered is in vain for His children. 

Mama was delivered on the first day in May 2012. She no longer struggles with this earthly world as we do. Her hope is found, her Father beside her, her eyes resting on Jesus.
My Joy has returned too. I no longer dwell on the five plus years of the ravages of dementia. Instead I hear her laughter, I prepare her recipes, I view her inquisitive nature in some of the grandchildren, her tenacity for a job well done in my son, her smile shared on my daughters face and I tend her flowers. 

I rest these days in this passage from Hebrews 11:1. 

        Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not yet seen.  

She always told us "you have a choice every day. You can choose to dwell on your trials or live in the abundant grace, freely given." She truly faced her life that way. I am very grateful I had her and thankful I will see her again. 

Embrace life, live joyfully. Happy Mothers Day. 

He says I could tear up a steel ball.

My husband often says I could tear up a steel ball. Well, I simply like to know how things work. What makes them tick. I have trouble turning something loose if I haven't figured it out. 

I had my Roomba floor vacuum only a few days when my husband came  home to find it in pieces on the table. "What are you doing? Have you torn it up already?"

 
I have not! This is a planned tear down. It needed a little TLC. 
We bought it used and it needed a little cleaning.  I noticed it wasn't rolling smoothly across the floors. I removed the roller ball on the front, sanded with fine grit sandpaper and it's smooth as a baby's behind.

"You better know where all those screws go," he said. Again, I'm an old hand at removing things and I'm too OCD to do it all willy-nilly.. please, I know what I'm doing. 

I actually tear things apart quite often and sometime not deliberately. 

I will admit it seems like I break things more than most. I don't know what it is? I just have something in my hand and bam! It's broken. Don says that I'm not careful, I think I'm careful.

I think things are not made to last as they should be. 

There was the RV refrigerator door handle. Broke it. We were camping, I was opening the refrigerator while getting dinner ready and the handle snapped off in my hand. That RV was almost ten years old and of course they no longer made that model of handle. It only took four months to find the correct replacement. We had ordered two different handles thinking each was the correct replacement, only to end up sending them back. Don decided to go to the store, 300 miles to our south, to assure he had the correct handle. 

Ever try to pull an RV 300 miles without a working handle on the refrigerator? It gets complicated. 
My gray-haired "MacGyver" rigged that door with a piece of cord, a short board and a bungee tie to the surrounding cabinets. I was amazed! Although he kind of developed a little "attitude" while doing it. We drove down to the beach for a few days, ran by and picked up the handle. When he got it on the refrigerator, he dared me to touch it. Seriously, he didn't let me touch the refrigerator door until I followed his little tutorial. He has issues. 

There was the emergency brake on his truck. Yep, broke that. Wait.. that would be two trucks. Both of his last two Dodge trucks. I pulled the emergency brake to release and broke the handle on both. He used a nylon string on the old truck for the last year he drove it. Just pull the string and the brake released. Apparently, those things are very flimsy made. Seriously, nothing is made to last anymore.   

I replaced three coffee carafes on my coffee maker before I decided maybe glass was not for me. Now I have a nice stainless steel one.
What I can't figure out is why "breaking" is almost always on my husbands things. It is not like I do it on purpose. It just happens- like the hand brake on his bicycle. He rode the bike for two days while camping. I get on his bike for five minutes and you know it! I snapped that bad boy right off. I figure I saved him from sure injury on a ride down a hillside somewhere. I believe he needed a new cable before I rode his stupid bike. I may very well have been set up. 

Then, I was cutting grass and this happened. Yeah, that would explain the gaps and high spots in the yard. 

He came home and saw the blade on the front porch and said, "you did what? Who does that? What did you hit?"
I hit nothing, okay. 

I seem to have a gift, that's all. He put the bottom blade back on the mower after buying another nut and fitting because they were apparently somewhere in the yard. I am guessing the nut may have been loose, who knows?  He may or may not have been muttering under his breath the entire time he repaired it. 

I seem to recall my precious mother having the same "penchant" for accidents. Unlike myself, mama was not physically strong. She would think she was going to lift something and then get herself in a bind. Once she lifted the boat trailer (with the boat on it) she wanted to cut grass under it. She lifted, took a few steps and could not hold it. She dropped that hitch and it slide all the way down her leg. It left a nasty ten inch long gouge. I cleaned the wound and bandaged her up. I made her promise she would call me before any boats were moved.    

In her last few years on earth, mama's body was riddled with osteoporosis and dementia. Her body was small now, fragile and broken.  I could easily lift and move her wherever I needed. She would say, "you are so strong. I just can't believe it." 

There's a lesson in there you know? In this world when something breaks we throw it out. Discarding whatever we deem useless. We see "broken" as the end. 
God approaches brokenness differently. He allows great mercy and grace when we are broken, He binds us up. Then other times, things in us need to be broken for us to fulfil our purpose- pride, selfishness, sinful habits, hard hearts. 

But for Jesus, this would not be possible.

When breaking bread Jesus said, "this is my body, which is broken for you" 

God longs for us to come to Him where he can restore us. He gives new life from brokenness, every time. I pray we all surrender to God what is broken in us. His grace is sufficient. 

She planted so many seeds.

Mama called almost every morning, if I didn't call her first. If she were here, this mornings call would have been about Winters Solstice. She would have said, "It's December 21st, it's the shortest day of the year." No matter how old we were she always made sure we remembered. It was a love/hate relationship for her. Mama hated dark, she thrived on light. Today we would begin marking the days (and she counted every one) until Spring. 

Each morning her first steps were straight to the windows to let the light in. When her grandchildren were there she would read from the Childcraft about Winters Solstice and if they had questions, she reveled in answering them. Questions about earth were mama's specialty. Dirt, trees, blooms, how things worked and changed, the seasons and how people depended on the signs from animals and plants long before there were meteorologists to share their skills. 

Sometime the children would come home with little seeds in a old jar or cup to nurture and grow. I would almost swear the soil at mamas house was magic. It was rich and you could smell life in it. Often I would go get a bucket or two of soil from her house to mix into my soil when planting. Everything always grew better. 

Mama planted many seeds of love with my children, my nieces and nephews. Time spent with her was seldom idle and always filled with adventure. 

She would wait for a sunny day, put on a jacket and toboggan and go out in the yard to survey the trees, buds and plants. It makes winter go faster, she would say.
Mental notes were made as to what needed trimming, thinning or moving. Her mood lightened as she moved through the yard letting the sun hit her face. She was the most at home when outside. The most at peace. 

Weeks into winter in a casual conversation, she would say "the days are getting longer, I can finally see it now." Of course she meant sunlight was getting longer. I think she and Robert Frost would have gotten along. 

Soon would come the days of toiling in the earth watching things grow and bloom. There would be little snippets of sticks and flowers she would bring to plant in my yard. Phone calls about dutch iris and daylilies were our normal and I loved those conversations. I miss those conversations. She would spend a day looking for her legend we made on her iris colors and varieties. (I knew I should have kept up with it.) We tagged them w/different colored string or twist ties to identify them and she would have me move them to other parts of the yard, of course when blooms were long gone. She didn't allow moving unless the time was right. 

I still have those daylilies, irises, sweet william and forsythia. Her plum trees are here, some ready to be moved before long. An almond shrub sits near the walk coming into our home. I wait for it's blooms, they are one of my favorites.
There's a large Mock Orange from outside my childhood bedroom that will bloom with reckless abandon come late spring. The smell will permeate the air like fine perfume. When I smell it each year, tears fill my eyes and I am transported back to that little bedroom with the eyelet bedspread she carefully pressed and mended all my life. Early mornings she would slip into my room to crank the windows open where I woke to the smell of mock orange. Thank you Jesus, she planted so many seeds.   

Today, it's December 21st, shortest day of the year. Everything is brown outside but there is the promise of spring and it's just around the corner. I will let little hands help me just as my mother did. There are always seeds to plant. 

 

If the Lord lets me live until Spring.

It was something my mother prefaced every plan she ever made with.. "If the Lord lets me live until Spring."

She wasn't being morbid only proclaiming what she held as absolute truth. She was not perfect as none of us are but she shared her faith and lived it to the best of her ability. You see, my mother was a worrier by nature and she knew that was contrary to God's plan for us. She fretted over whether things were done on time and correctly, was there anyone near her who didn't have enough to eat or could not pay their bills? It bothered her and at times kept her up at night. Another close held belief- Love your neighbor. I can still smell the thick paper grocery bags pulled from the cabinet where they were neatly stored. [Mama was not a "neat" person by any means.] She wasn't dirty but she liked things where she could see them. She made sure those bags were stored neatly away to be reused. She would hand me a couple grocery bags and tell me to get a good variety of canned goods from the cabinet, take the other bag and get meat from the freezer in the old pump house outside. Daddy raised hogs, hunted and fished and other relatives raised cattle. There was always a full freezer. Those bags would quietly without fanfare make their way to an appreciative family in the community. Close held belief- do not boast. Mama and daddy learned valuable life lessons as children of the Great Depression and one of the greatest was to save for what you needed. Mama would put away a little money for Christmas gifts throughout the year, she would save money for a car before she needed a newer one. I remember how she often felt guilty for having new things. I think that came from such a hard childhood. Then daddy would tell her "Mary, we work very hard for what we have, you do not have to feel guilty." She needed to hear those words. I never heard her boast of anything except her grandchildren.

Mama believed her Bible to be the inherent Word of God, from cover to cover. Divinely inspired as she would tell you, by humans from the Holy Spirit of God.

Another close held belief from God's word- That He supplies grace for each day. Mama struggled with this one. It is hard not to look ahead and make plans, it's hard to "know" you are going to be okay, that you children will be okay, that the world will be okay. To think each morning when I rise God has prepared a path for me and no matter how insignificant I feel, He has a plan for me. He will equip me for whatever task lie ahead.

Every day has its appointed trouble. But never more than you can bear by his grace. Every day will have mercies that are new every morning — mercies sufficient for that day’s trouble (Lamentations 3:22–23.)

He will not expect any good deed from you for which he does not supply all the grace you need (2 Corinthians 9:8.) I can't imagine what mama would think of these days we live in but I do know what she would tell me. God never asks anything of you that he doesn't prepare you for. There is no problem on the face of the earth, He doesn't have an answer to. God provides for our needs daily and He only requires that we trust Him. He is the answer to all our fears and struggles, even in 2020. My mama and daddy believed this to be true and I'm so grateful they instilled it in each of us. Life is hard right now and times are uncertain but . . . If the Lord lets me live until Spring.