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Showing posts from June, 2015

Chapter Eight

I grew up in a small, rural Ohio community. Our house was next to the Erie-Lackawanna Railroad. I was lulled to sleep by the melancholy song of the train cars passing over the rails and the lonesome whistle that heralded its arrival and departure. “Take me away, take me away, take me away” seemed to be the song that echoed from that railroad track.

Unable to sleep on hot, humid Ohio nights, I watched the coming and goings of the trains.  Passenger trains were my favorite.  I was a voyeur peering as it were into the lit cabin trying to catch a glimpse of the lives that passed so quickly from my view.
Business men sat with newspaper in hand to occupy their time and their space in seeming oblivion to the others around them. They were too important to be bothered I imagined.

It was an era when women dressed in business attire for the train trip and wore hats and although I couldn’t see it, I believe they also wore gloves. I don’t know why I believed this, I just did. It just seemed to co…

Chapter Seven

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Thursday, June 19th was the second chemotherapy. I believe the anxiety got to me as I was unable to fall asleep until 2:45 a.m. that very morning. I awoke at 6:30 a.m. to begin preparation for the event.
First, the blood draw at 8:50 a.m., then meeting with the oncologist and going over new meds and any symptomatic issues. My blood levels were all on target. I am having blurriness of vision, so I have to pick up special eye drops – fortunately OTC. My “angry vein” is actually phlebitis, so it was determined to use another vein. From there, we wait for the pager to signal our move to the infusion suite. We moved from the right arm to the left arm; changed up the order of the meds being injected. The Alimta was first up after hydration, then followed by more hydration (both oral and infused) and finally the Cisplatin being dripped with hydration and followed with even more infused hydration and a number of potty breaks. Part and parcel of this event, but hydration is imperative – befor…

Chapter Six

The old Ohio farm and surrounding areas were covered with old apple trees. Local legend implied they had been planted by John Chapman a.k.a. Johnny Appleseed. I cannot verify this as truth although Johnny Appleseed's travels did take him through the state. We had a lovely old apple tree on the edge of our property. I would watch this tree from the kitchen window while having a cuppa coffee and daily bread (my morning devotions). 
One autumn morning as the sunrise began to dispel the fog a doe and her twin fawns were eating apples from that tree. How good is the Lord to allow us a glimpse of His creation and provision? Moments such as that often serve as “eye spy” blessings in my daily life. Events such as this have become my little blessings of serendipitous opportunity. 
Watching that tree through the seasons was also a reminder that life changes and yet continues on even through the harshness of the seasons. Seasons of drought, searing heat, the time of flood, the lightening st…

Chapter Five

In continuing on from Part 4...

In 1985, Husband was sure God was calling him to be in aviation ministry. Me? Not so much. I could not fathom traversing to the remotest part of the earth, walking though the jungles and marshes, picking leeches off my legs to let the peoples know that Jesus loves them. I’m not making light of missionary endeavors, I’m simply telling you where I was at that point in time.

It happened one Sunday when our church hosted a couple to come and speak to the congregation about their missionary work. I felt safe as their missionary work was in France! I could do France! A romantic language, good food, fashion, and croissants! Yes… I felt safe with this couple making a presentation.

Approximately five slides (yes… it was that long ago) into their presentation they stopped at a picture of a four seated Cessna plane. The couple began expounding upon the virtue of those in mission aviation. I was only three rows (pews) from them and I’m sure the look of horror upon …

Chapter Four

These writings are basically being shared for my family. For them to "remember when" and to leave a written history that we have, indeed existed. The fact that some of you are reading them, too, is an added blessing to me.

How does God speak to you? Is it in the quiet of the morning when you come before Him in a spirit of devotion? Is it then He reveals Himself to you through His word and through prayer? Is it in events or circumstance that you can clearly see after the fact that it was a “God Thing”?

For me, it is generally the latter – the events or circumstances that God generally reveals Himself to me. Sometimes it is even so far past the original happening that He brings the event to my mind and heart that when it is revealed, I feel like such a slow learner. For it is in that moment I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He was there, orchestrating the entire event. Things I had overlooked become crystal clear and when it all comes together in my mind and heart I have…

Chapter Three

The glass silently slips from my hand and tumbles to the floor with the inharmonious cacophony that heralds the assault of a thousand shards of glass… waiting… waiting to pierce and bleed.

With broom in hand I begin to sweep shards into a pile in a vain effort to organize chaos. I find shards of brokenness in places you cannot fathom. They have traveled to points that cause me to ponder on the law of physics and yes, the gravity of the situation. Yet another broken glass, will this one be missed?

How many shards of brokenness remain hidden beneath the surface of my being? Precious multi-colored facets each representing a painful period of life that I am yet unwilling to relinquish. Isn’t pain after all, proof that life continues on?

Have you ever sat in a house of worship and considered stained glass? I admit there are times I find my mind wandering during the service and to focus, I begin to study the stained glass. Those broken shards of glass that reflect the brightest, richest col…

Chapter Two

I originally published this on my blog on June 2nd.

As it was in the beginning…

I was divorced in 1975, it was a ‘dissolution,’ or better, I was disillusioned. As a single mom I was attempting to make a living and raise my daughter. I learned of available jobs and went to make application for something, anything that paid better than the minimum wage nursing assistant position I was working. I was frightened, but determined.

A coworker saved her coins in a glass water jug. She provided the money to me so I could get a telephone – at no obligation. I went to the telephone company to get everything set up and was told I could not, as “I” owed for a past due account. I left and returned in short order with a copy of the divorce decree that showed the “Ex” was responsible for all debts incurred during the marriage. The same employee told me it did not matter. I informed her as I had a minor child, it did indeed matter and asked to speak with her supervisor. I presented all the information to…

Chapter One

This began as a note on my Facebook page and on my other blog on May 28th. I decided to make this a series in and of itself. Mostly, it will be "journaling" of my current health issue and a history of our family's journey. It is a way for friends and family to keep up with what is happening in our lives since we, like so many others, have been touched by cancer and chemo.

May 28th was a long day at the Cancer Center. Husband and I arrived at 9:45 a.m. There is always the check in, then the pager, then traveling to the various offices. The first visit was with oncology nurse practitioner. It is on the ground floor and just down the hallway heading north.

The entire campus of the Cancer Center is beautifully decorated. There are numerous paintings and photographs that have been donated. Some have been given as gifts and some are for sale. There is one in vibrant blues and reds and oranges depicting a wash during the time of monsoon. It is for sale. I want it. But do I need i…