Chapter Twenty Six
Recently,
there was a friendly discussion on Facebook about “silence”. Yes, sweet, sweet
silence. I love silence, I desire silence. I crave silence. I even keep the
radio off when I am driving locally. This seems to recharge me. Or perhaps it
merely allows me to hear emergency sirens as they approach. It is Arizona and I
keep the window cracked a teensy bit to hear them.
I
like to rise early, sit on my postage stamp size patio and listen to the birds
and the morning sounds. All the while enjoying my first cup of morning coffee.
Milo T. Kat also enjoys the patio and yard by attempting to find her share of
birds to terrorize. She hasn’t succeeded thus far, but she sure gets her
exercise and she “chatters” at the birds.
As
the morning progresses, Husband wakes and brings his coffee out to join me, as
well as his computer where we electronically share a morning devotional from
“Our Daily Bread.” The silence helps to prepare me for the word of God. It puts
me in the right frame of mind and spirit. As insignificant as it may seem, it
is a great blessing to me to enjoy solitude.
Today
I had an auditory test. I’m loving the “sounds of silence” so much, and it may
be due to the hearing loss I experienced from chemotherapy. It seems to be
getting worse, or at least my asking “what?” is getting worse! The hearing loss
is worse than when I had my last hearing check. The nerve damage from the chemo
is a significant part of it, but there is also another issue that I’m being
referred to an ENT for.
I
have extreme ringing in my ears, but I’ve learned to befriend and embrace the
ringing as my “white noise” and it does help lull me to sleep at night.
All
and all, I’m doing well with this thing called lung cancer. My radiologist
referred to me as “the poster child” for lung cancer due to it having been
found so early. That was not a title I was seeking, but I’ll embrace the title,
at least for now. I’d prefer the title of “Our Lady of Total Remission” but I
can be patient for a while more. This entire process began on April 2, 2015,
with the first surgery. Three years of ups and downs with non-small cell lung
cancer. What a ride!
I
have a specific Facebook group for persons, friends and family who are
interested in my health issues and have committed to pray for me. I titled it
“Dear Lord, Make it Count” for that is what I desire – for God to make all of
this count for eternity. I belong to a small group of women and we attempt to
meet weekly to encourage one another and spur us on in our Christian walk. One
of my “sisters” purchased tee shirts that have the phrase “Make It Count” on
them for the three of us. They are absolutely shocking pink and I love them
very much!
I
can, in all honesty say that these medical issues have drawn Husband and I even
closer in some way. He’s had his medical issues and I’ve had mine. But the Good
Lord has seen to it that we haven’t been down at the same time. Times such as
these either drive you apart or closer together. One of my “sisters” that meets
with us has a husband with numerous medical issues to include an amputation. He
receives dialysis and she is the one who does this for him. Hospitalizations
are common for them. She has been an amazing woman of strength and courage as I
silently watch her in the act of care giving and loving. Her example is one of strength,
faithfulness, and reliance upon the Lord.
How
do you feel about silence? Does it bother you or make you uncomfortable? How
did you feel the last time the electricity went down? Was the silence
deafening? Or did you embrace it? I remember the heavy, moist, Ohio snows that
seemed to shroud the landscape with silence. Often all one could hear was the
scraping sounds of the snow shovel.
Last
Christmas, Husband purchased a DNA kit for me. I was very surprised by the
information on the test and began researching my Family Tree. Everything I
thought to be true was not so much true. I had always heard and believed that I
was a quarter Cherokee. Not a bit of Indigenous Peoples blood in my DNA!
I
had to decide which way to go with my Family Tree – do I go with the DNA as I
was an adopted child, or do I stick solely with the family I was raised by?
Well, since it was a family member who adopted me, I figured I’d just go where
the DNA takes me.
I
had always been a bit afraid of researching my family tree for fear of what
would be found in the branches. There are some bad things and sad things, but
there have been some surprising things, too.
For
example, Pierce Dant Hamblin (1787-1871) was my fourth great-grandfather. He
fought in the Revolutionary War. I could be a Daughter of the American
Revolution! That was a nice surprise.
It
turns out Lady Anne Cleves, Lady in Waiting in the House of Tudor, became
pregnant with a male child who became Sir John
(Lord Deputy of Ireland-Knight of the Bath) Perrott (1528–1592). He was the illegitimate son of King Henry VIII of the House of Tudor. This
makes King Henry the VIII my 14th great-grandfather! (And really, what is a Knight of the Bath? I
shudder to think! Did he empty the chamber pots?)
Then there are the other things I
see. The families who were immigrants to this new country and died at such
young ages and had many, many children. Some of those children died at birth
and so did some of the mothers. One family member had fifteen children and
three wives. The wives died, he would re-marry and have more children.
The Civil War claimed its fair share
of family members from both sides, to include those who were prisoners of war.
A great, great, great, great-grandmother
was sentenced to death as a witch in Salem, Massachusetts and sadly, her
husband was the minister.
I was hoping like some of the
advertisements on TV for Ancestry DNA, that I would find a strong female in the
mix, like the woman who found an ancestor in an African Queen.
What I know is this – I am a total
white woman (sans the privilege). I
was so hoping for the Indigenous Peoples blood, or an unbending African Queen,
or maybe some Jewish blood. But that was not to be, unless my DNA with all of
its 38% Great Britain and 14% Ireland/Scotland/Wales show I’m related to the
Warrior Queen Boudicca - she was
a British Celtic warrior queen who led a revolt against Roman occupation. Merely
wishful thinking on my part.
My
ancestors were viable humans, people who gave their lives and worked hard to
make a new country and a new nation. They left their homeland and willing came
to a new world to begin again with the freedom to worship as they saw fit.
A
number of them were Quakers and they released their slaves many years ahead of the
Emancipation Proclamation. Of this fact, I am proud and grateful for a heritage
that recognized and honored human life.
Lately
I’ve been consumed, perhaps perplexed by the fact that I’m struggling with
“right to life” issues. I’ve always been “a church lady for choice,” but I’ve
been re-thinking this stand. If I’m against capital punishment (the death sentence), then shouldn’t it
be a “womb to tomb” stance rather than pick and choose? And the question I
often ask, is how someone can be pro-life for a child in the womb, and still
want no restrictions on weapons that kill our children and grandchildren in
schools. I don’t have the answers, but I sure am asking the questions.
Suffice
it to say, I’m still thinking it through and using the lens of my faith to
assist me.
O
God of my Fathers, O God of my Mothers, help me to see clearly all that you
have done in my life even before my life began. The great witness of those who
came before to build a nation of liberty and justice. May I never forget their
sacrifice. Lord God, may I never forget the sacrifice of my Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ.
Even
so, Amen.
Until
next time,
Tamara