Coloring with Happy Crayons

It seems that the end of the year warrants a certain amount of reflection and philosophizing, at least in my household. As a visual thinker, my philosophies tend to pictorial elements, ones that I can paint with words and view in context, as needed. To that end, I have formulated a tentative model for managing certain life events that hopefully will bring joy into 2011. In my mind, I can imagine that these events start out like line drawings in a coloring book. Black and white, simple scenarios, without emotion or portent. The owner of this coloring book also owns the crayons that will be used to complete the pictures. In this box of crayons are a wild array of colors, like Crayola's big box of 64, which includes the cool metallic ones like copper, silver and gold. In this box are also greys, browns and black. It is totally possible to use whatever colors you choose, but each choice brings something to the picture, be it warm or cold, bright or dark.  The picture will change from a neutral line drawing to one filled with emotion, character, drama.  I am choosing to break the black, brown and grey crayons, and use the happy colors for 2011...I imagine the 11 as bright pink and silver crayons, ready to bring life into my coloring book.

Golden Hours

My husband and I were talking about how we could find time to do the things we like to do. Like knitting, exercising, reading, or building something. We figured that there is at least one hour every day that could be dedicated to those things. So I am making a list of what I would like to do in that daily golden hour. Monday it was a home pedicure, yesterday it was Zumba, today it is sewing, tomorrow it is dinner with friends. In fact, I have decided to keep a separate agenda book with only the golden hour events in it. That way I don't have to also look at the doctor appointments and tests that are the opposite of golden. As each day goes by, I can look in my little book and think about what joy awaits me when I finally can get to my special hour. 365 hours a year. That is time enough to finish that scrapbook, knit a few scarves, soak in a tub, down a delicious dessert and read Pilgrim's Progress.

Sweet Endings

I would have to say that this year, 2010, has been one of the very hardest ones my husband and I have ever lived. We have battled job loss, financial downturns, cancer recurrence, fatigue, depression, grief. Of course, it has not all been dark...we have had job found, financial blessings, watched our youngest give her Master's dissertation, walked on the deck of a Carnival cruise ship in the Caribbean, swam in crystal blue seas. At the close of this year, we are learning to savor the sweet moments, and not let a one go by without fully experiencing all it has to offer. Our girls were together with each other and us this Christmas for the first time in 3 years. I put reason and some frugality aside and decorated the house like I haven't done in a long time. We stayed up late every night we all were together and ate candy and played games. The warmth and light that filled our home is still glowing tonight, even though they are on planes back home. This is the best ending to a hard year: the ability to take it all in, hold it close, breathe in the fullness of joy, and spread it back out again.

Unpacking Faith

Finding a faith in God can be a difficult and circuitous journey. I was raised in a formal church, where the place felt cold and I was judged by how well I dressed and how many friends I had. That certainly did not interest me, so by age 13 I no longer wanted to, nor was made to,  attend. I had friends through the years after that had a bent toward God that I did not understand, and it wasn't until 14 years later that I finally began to make sense out of what I had gleaned from the bible lessons of my childhood. It was such a wonderful transformation that I raised both my daughters in a very focused and diligent dedication to those same bible teachings, determining that their journey to faith in God would be easier than mine. My oldest daughter followed that path without ever wavering, but my second daughter seemed to find our choices for her did not fit her choices for herself. She has chosen the same circuitous road I chose so long ago, maintaining about the same pace and maybe for the same reasons. Her childhood faith has been packed away with other childhood experiences, tucked in the basement of her soul. One day that box will be opened, and the faith that was put there will come out, and God will be found.

Christmas Party

I have interlocking circles of friends, most of them don't know each other. Each group has their own special qualities and gifts. Tonight one of these groups gathered for supper and a gift exchange. This is mostly what this group does. I have never been to some of these gals' houses, don't even know where some of them live. We never worked together, or raised kids together. We know each other through these dinners, and we gather together and eat and talk like old friends. This is mostly because of our mutual friend Lynn...who has known all of us for years and years and organizes these events. Anyway, we share a meal and gifts because that's what we do, and it is always fun to see what comes out of the cute little gift bags filled with tissue paper. Earrings, homemade jams, ornaments for the tree, gift cards to Starbucks...tokens of love and respect that come from belonging to a circle of friends. No matter how loosely woven, this friendly cloth is warm and comforting. I am wearing a new fuzzy hat, and a sparkly ice cream cone necklace is now in my jewelry collection. Thank you all for  a wonderful evening!

Nitrous Oxide

I visited a periodontist today for a gum graft. I have had gum surgery before, and it was hard to think about going through it again. This time the pain at the tooth drove me to the dentist, and I was glad that he opened his office on this snowy day to take care of it, since it has been hurting for 2 months. When we set this up, the assistant offered me nitrous oxide, for a nominal $50 charge, during the procedure. I initially balked, first at the $50, and second at the idea that I was not brave enough to face the procedure fully awake. We talked about the benefits of it a little bit. Ever since I have had to deal with cancer, I have taken off the mask of the persona of the stoic, surgery by surgery. Referring to my last post, I have decided that I have nothing to prove. The strangers at the dentist office are not judging me. The nurse in the preop room, pushing Versed, is not judging me. The nurse in the recovery room, pushing morphine, is not judging me. Adjunct medicine is there for me, not to test my stoicism, but to provide relief from the anxiety and pain that come from needles and scalpels and sutures. So I agreed to the nitrous. It was $50 well spent.

Nothing to Prove

One good thing about middle age is the collection of volumes of experiences one gathers through the years. Like a fantastic library, housed inside our minds and souls are millions of moments lived, each one unique. Just like books, some of these moments are fascinating, thrilling and compelling stories, some are scary or sad, many are predictable, even boring. If lived well, upon remembering these experiences, it could be determined that there is nothing left to prove. There have been gains and successes, defeats, times when it was better to start over, challenges overcome...or not. The wins and the losses even out, and one can choose to go after the new thing, or stay the course. Sail a boat around the world, or sit by the fire and play with your grandchildren. Nothing to prove means it is fine either way. It is your life, your one beautiful and priceless life.

Breakfast for Dinner

IHOP serves breakfast for dinner. Eating there feels like the day is starting instead of ending, even drinking decaf coffee. Sometimes my mother would fix breakfast for dinner, and it was always a treat. I think I like it when things are turned around. As a kid, I used to lie on my bed with my head hanging off the edge and pretend the ceiling was the floor. It was clean and uncluttered, ready for play. We would play backwards day and walk backwards up the steps and in and out of the house. Or opposite day, and we would say yes when we meant no. Today I felt turned around when I found out I have the BRCA 1 mutation that might have caused this ovarian cancer, and might have been passed down to my daughters and granddaughter. I felt the ceiling become the floor, I heard yes when I wanted no. Then I remembered I was in control of the game, and I could turn it right side up. Knowledge is power, a gift to use to make wise choices. We are a large family of women, my sisters, nieces, great nieces, daughters, granddaughter. No one else in the family might ever have to be surprised by advanced cancer. It is safe to lay my head down and imagine the obstacles disappearing and dream of pumpkin pancakes.

Kindness

Sometimes I say things I wish I hadn't. My sister says I have no filter. I think I do better now than I used to, but sometimes words come out that I wish were more like Scrabble tiles than air. Then I could rearrange them and phrase the comment differently, with more kindness. At any rate, I said something about our church carpets needing cleaning to one of our staffers. The staff decided to rent carpet cleaning machines today, and recruit volunteers to do the work. Since I made the observation about the need to clean, I felt that I should volunteer. Somewhat grudgingly, as I had another event I wanted to go to tonight instead. I drove to the church from a long day at work, not looking forward to several hours of wrestling a big and messy carpet cleaner around the church basement. When I arrived at the empty parking lot, I sighed. Would I have to do this alone?  Inside the dark church lobby were the two large machines...but tucked inside the wrapped cord was a note that said: "All rooms and hallways are done". I walked all over the building and down to the basement, just to see with my own eyes the kindness that someone else had done all the work. My Scrabble tiles now say: Thank you whoever you are!

My mother's mink

I have my mother's full length mink coat hanging in my closet. It is probably about 20 years old, and a beautiful deep black. It has been a point of conversation over the years between my mother and us girls. My mother has a large amount of joie, and the coat was one of those moments when temptation overrode practicality. I wore the coat, for the first time, to a fancy party last very cold and icy night. My friend wrecked her car while driving us to the party, due to the ice on the road. After the accident protocols were finished, we walked out into the snowy street, police lights flashing and flares burning behind us, to our waiting ride. I felt warm and wonderful, wrapped in black fur, almost glamorous, emerging from what could have been horror but was not. The joie and immense gratitude settled into my spirit as we drove on to the party. I wonder what I have been missing all these years, living in a tight little circle of duty and it's residual anxiety. This joie, and the gratitude that comes with it, can define a life that is lived to the uttermost. I have a constant reminder of this in my closet, waiting for the next adventure.

Gratitude

Personal gratitude is contextual. It is an act of one's will. For example, I have heard people tell me I should be grateful that my cancer is under control. This is the context, and in this context I am grateful. However, in the big picture, I am not grateful that I have cancer. Applied across the spectrum of life's pressures and challenges, contextual gratitude is a hard won and fragile point of weak light. In the New Testament, Paul talks about a different sort of gratitude or thankfulness. This thankfulness is beyond context, based on a faith we have in a God who loves us and will never forsake us. Gratitude for grace that sustains us in the chemo room, or in a collapsed mine in Chile for 2 months, or at the cemetery as a young son is lowered into the ground. This gratitude knows no limits, has no fear, runs wild and free, leaping over every barrier. It is a deeper than a mine, or a grave, and soars all the way to heaven.

Zing

I miss my zing. It is that energy that sets words and works in motion, formulates ideas and plans. Zing adds power and lift to hopes and dreams. Zing cannot sit still, or wait, or tolerate sloth. Zing sings in the shower, laughs at stupid jokes, gets silly on coffee and candy. Zing lives extravagantly, rising to help, to serve, to give.
I would trade a full freezer of ice cream for a day of zing.

Joie de Vivre

Joy of living. My daughter Mary lives a life that illustrates this joie. She has an impulsive nature, generous, outgoing, always ready for fun. She is equally comfortable with the elderly and infants and all ages in between. Children love her. She giggles and plays with them as if she, too, were one of them. With children and adults, she can bring calm out of debate and make sense out of difficult emotional dramas. I admire her and love her. Sometimes her impulsive nature has caused conflict between us. I have stood, sometimes openly, sometimes privately, in judgment of her choices regarding money, travel, friends, social situations. As she has matured and bloomed, I think this judgment masks some envy. Her life is still young and full of wonderful promises. She laughs and plays, not worrying so much about tomorrow and rainy days. Her investments might not be in banks and stocks, but it is in people and places and memories and joie. Isn't this the life we were meant to live?

Thanksgiving

Celebrating Thanksgiving in my family has had many metamorphoses over the years.  My father's sister's house was where we gathered as children, a formal affair with dresses, coats and ties, speeches, toasts and treasure hunts. As time passed, and cousins grew up and married and moved, the celebration transferred to other venues. There are now many to choose from, depending on which coast you prefer and who is going to be where. This year we chose to visit my brother in Delaware, so the event was a whirlwind 1200 mile trek across 2 states through endless rain and truck spray. We ate delicious food, watched movies, caught up on the years events, stayed up late. My parents actually shared the main meal together for the first time in maybe 30 years, as my Dad traveled with us and my mother lives near my brother. I wonder what is the spell of the Thanksgiving meal, that draws families together across the country. There is no keeping it quiet, no matter how much the airlines charge for the Sunday home travel or how hard it rains. We seek each other out, to lean on each other and make sure we are still loved.

24 roses

Today is my birthday. Yes, I remember what I was doing when John Kennedy was shot. I was in school, looking forward to my birthday party the next day. I don't remember being sad right away, because I didn't really understand how awful and scary it was, until later, when we saw the amateur footage of the shooting on the tv. This was long before instant news and blogs and twitter, and cameras with phones and youtube. The footage was grainy and black and white, but mysterious and dreadful. My birthday party was wonderful, as I recall. More poignant because of the grief of our nation's loss in the background. This birthday is like that one. My sister sent me 24 roses, and a vase to put them in. Her card noted that reaching this birthday was especially miraculous and precious. Yes, indeed. Each step into the future is measured in miles already run, looking into the distance to the next mile marker. The measured and treasured stride, gently adding one to another, toward the destination that ends in our life's greatest joy.

Android

I upgraded my phone today, from a 2 year old Blackberry to a Motorola Moto. It has a touchscreen, and a nice camera. I really do like having internet on my phone. It is infinitely fascinating and entertaining. My old phone did not do any of the apps well that I like. The only downside is the cost. Our phone bill today is a little more than half of what our first house payment was way back in 1978. I am lying if I say it is worth it, but the play value is wonderful. Unfortunately, the guy at the store had to "wipe" my old phone, because Richard is going to use it. Goodbye 2 years of notes and calendar entries, mini directions to friends houses and all the other random entries I made to help me remember things. Now the Blackberry is back to the way is was when I first bought it. Scrubbed and ready for a new adventure.  My new phone is also a sort of blank slate, the calendar is empty, there are no photos or memos. It is like a fresh new day, full of potential. As an act of faith, I signed a 2 year agreement for this phone, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it.

Finishing Things part 2

Yesterday I finished my 4th cycle of this current treatment series, and, according to my doctor, I can be finished with it. I am cautious about this because I thought I was finished before, but that was 2 treatment series ago. I guess that is typical of most things in life. I remember when I finished college I thought I would never take another test. I have probably taken hundreds of tests since then, as I wended my way through nursing school, and then certification tests, and a return to college to study spanish. Then, with my children grown and gone I thought I was finished working in children's ministry, but now I am busy every other Sunday with 4Corners Kids. When I was told I had cancer, I thought my life was finished and looked at how unprepared I was to face that end. Three and a half years later, I am still working and playing and living a life that, though different in some ways, still looks remarkably like the one I lived before that difficult day. Finishing things seems to be a way to end a chapter, but not the whole book. What challenges us, calms us, encourages or restores us, we begin again.

The work God gives us to do

My husband has a new job that is quite different from his previous job. The biggest difference is the amount of extra hours he has to work, long into the evening and weekends sometimes, without compensation. Now he is grateful to be working, as most of this year he was living under the cloud of pending, then actual, unemployment. But the job that we consider a gift of God has come with a cost greater than what was expected at the beginning. The temptation is to look for something else, but if we have learned nothing else in the past 3 years we have learned to bear it. The work that God gives us to do, which can be physical labor, prayer, encouraging others, maintaining family relationships, even chemotherapy, serves more than a single purpose. While we are about the work, He is about using the work to shape and form us, grow us, discipline and teach us. We find ourselves at a loss, often, of energy, ideas, courage, kindness, patience. He is there to show those things to us. The work that God gives us to do is service ultimately to Him, for Him. We do the work He gives us to do, and we do it to the best of our ability, because it is His gift to us, and ours to Him.

Myra's Dionysus

Tonight I had supper with my dear friend Elizabeth at Myra's.  I have mentioned Elizabeth before in this blog, because spending time with her is definitely ice cream, no matter where we have supper. She is full of energy and bubbles over with her passion for people. She works for the Restavek Foundation, which is an organization that focuses on the problem of children in domestic slavery in Haiti. Several weeks ago, she was working on an exhibit for a weekend event that featured simulations of a day in the life of a restavek. I made her 500 or so buttons to give away to the people who participated in the experience. It was great to hear about the positive response to her hard work, and to know that over 800 people now know something about the plight of thousands of children forced to live in terrible situations. I am glad to know people who choose to do something valuable to assist others in this messy world. Elizabeth, my daughters and many of their friends have stepped into roles that inspire and encourage others, mentoring adults and children to look with new eyes at the world around them. It is wonderful to join with them, this next generation, those who are not afraid to reach out to those who need them.

RATsfest

I have mentioned the RATs before, but since they are such a great group of friends it makes sense that they would be responsible for a considerable amount of ice cream. This was our annual weekend getaway, to Brown County Indiana. 10 of us rented a beautiful log cabin and made it home for almost 48 hours. My personal favorite event was relaxing in the hot tub, since I absolutely adore hot tubs. Each one of us brought our real selves to the event, and were able to offer up some of our life's wounds for the group to bind and heal. There was the gift of laughter and comfort, patience and encouragement. We have all known each other for a long time, and respect and trust each other. Sometimes better than family. This is a weekend that slips by altogether too quickly, as we fall back into our weekly routines. Except I now have a green t-shirt that says: "What happens with the girlfriends stays with the girlfriends."
That is a safe place indeed.

A warm room

The days after chemo are always challenging, kind of like having a touch of the flu. Feeling draggy, sad and a little queasy, but unwilling to just sit down and give in to it. This is usually how it goes. So when there is an opportunity to gather with friends, the first thought is "no, I don't feel well", then "why not, it will be fun". The gathering was at a small restaurant, the food was delicious and the room was cozy warm. Lots of chatter and laughter. These are friends from church, an "Appetizers and Talk" Lifegroup that meets intermittently. Our church thrives on these types of get togethers, where we can get to know one another as friends instead of just someone you sit next to at church. It is an important part of our church, an extension of the Sunday service, one that connects and builds up and strengthen us both individually and corporately. So something like chemo bleh cannot interfere with this. A warm room, kind words and the Spirit of God, building something wonderful deep in our souls.

Arms and Legs

My sister called me yesterday to tell me about a patient she was going to see today. This teenage girl had had a terrible episode of a raging blood infection, that caused irreversible damage to the circulation in her arms and legs. To save her life, the doctors have had to systematically remove both her legs and both her arms. Her kidneys have also failed so she is on dialysis. I was feeling a little droopy yesterday, but after hearing this nightmarish story I put on my big girl shoes and got some work done. I have thought about this girl all day today. What will happen to her? How will she cope with this new life, a life of dependency on others to meet her simplest needs? Will she find the strength to continue her life's journey? Will her family? I am so glad that my sister will be a part of the team that will help her find that strength. I have determined that I have never been so useful to God, in any of the missions activities I have been involved in, than I am now. There is not a day that goes by that I do not feel His presence, hear His words coming out of my mouth, share His love with others. I have arms and legs, and can still go and do, and so I will.

Hoarders

What does Hoarders have to do with ice cream? Actually quite a lot. I discovered this show by accident, during one of my meanderings through the internet. I am fascinated by the episodes I watched online. I wondered if I was a hoarder before I watched it, and think now that I would have been if not for my neat as a pin husband. My sewing room is my one hoard room. I totally understand saving things "in case you need them someday" and not getting around to fixing things that are broken. It is a difficult task to throw things away that I really am not ever going to use. It is only slightly better to give them away. I think everyone should watch at least one bit of the show, just to understand mental illness a little better. The dirty cluttered house is a window into the soul of the broken person that lives there. Instead of judging, the show tries to understand what has happened to the person that blinds them to the filth of the place they call home. Maybe we could all learn to be so compassionate that we can provide the comfort to others that they crave from the possessions they cannot let go of. Give something away today that you have been "saving", and feel the freedom to invest in something more valuable...like a friend.

Anniversary

34 years ago yesterday, Rich and I got married. We were on the young side (23 and 21 respectively), unemployed, in debt and almost clueless about what we wanted to do or be or accomplish. We also had our vices, like drinking, smoking, ignoring God, and a myriad of other dysfunctions, both known and unknown. As the years have unfolded, we have been able to help each other over our emotional and physical hurdles. We have faced unemployment, disease, disappointment, death, and minor poverty together. We have celebrated life, redemption, joy, success, wonder and gratitude together. We have 2 amazing daughters, a beautiful granddaughter, fabulous son in law and boyfriend in law. Our journey has led us through living in a trailer park to a home with a big yard, back to a little condo; from New Jersey to Arkansas to Ohio. The scrapbooks I make are filled with smiles and rich memories of travels across the globe: Africa, Israel, Central and South America, Europe, the Caribbean. This life together is a testimony to faithfulness, to commitment, keeping promises, believing in the value of each other. We did not do this alone. We have a great crowd of witnesses, cheering us on. Thank you.

Heaven

I am glad there is Heaven. I can't imagine living in this world thinking that there is no God, no grace, no redemption, no forgiveness, no hope, no Heaven. My friend Tara went there last night. She is the fourth woman that I knew who has died of a gynecological cancer this year. I feel the weight of this ruthless disease that seeks to crush our spirit and destroy our faith. But Heaven is impossible to destroy. Where Heaven is, is peace and joy and freedom from pain. Everything is made right, we see clearly those things that were hazy. We connect with the Trinity of God, and the multitude of others that have arrived before us, and come alive in a real and lasting way. The bible talks about Heaven a lot, in both old and new testaments. God wants us to know that this life is a vapor, dust, a flower that blooms then fades. Heaven is eternal, beautiful, full of light and life, singing and eating at a banquet table. Heaven resides in our hearts always, a prayer, a song, a future and a hope. Sing your song, Tara. Have some ice cream. Save me a place by you.

PET Scan

Not that anyone needs all the complicated medical information that is so redundant in my life, but today I got the results of the PET scan I had done on Monday to see what is going on with the tumor that is living in the right side of my pelvis. The test showed that the tumor is half the size it was 3 months ago, and about 2/3 less active. Now this is good news to me. I have learned to take such information as it is presented, and not read into it. It is a snapshot in time, on a certain day, in a certain machine, and interpreted by a certain radiologist. It is not prophecy. It cannot predict the future. I see the words on the paper and hear my doctor translate it into: one more cycle of chemo, then monthly treatments with one of the drugs. We are in uncharted waters. Not many women with advanced ovarian cancer get to this place, where the promise of many months spreads out before me. The treatment plans being made are forged in a scientific faith, with no hard data to go by. Yet, I feel like I have been given one more season to relish the life and lives that have been entrusted to me, and for that I am grateful.

Reverie

My sister visited me this past weekend. She is 13 months older than I am, and lives in California. We didn't do too much...sat in my living room and knit, mostly. And talked. It was wonderful. It hasn't always been this way. Years ago, we didn't always connect in positive ways. Sometimes we would say things that hurt each others' feelings. We would bring up dusty and worthless memories of our childhood that could still sting. We don't do that anymore. We both lead very busy lives, yet, this past weekend, we mutually decided to put everything aside and relax. She cooked yummy leek soup and we ate pumpkin pie and whipped cream. I helped her finish a sweater she started a year ago, and oohed and aahed over how beautiful it was. We bought each other Christmas gifts at Pottery Barn. We even visited the farm and walked through the crisp fallen red leaves of the sugar maples. We have found a comfortable friendship. Another gift of years, the chance to savor the days we have, a sweet reverie of our best selves.

Generosity

Generosity does not necessarily come easy for some people. Living within your means, saving for the future, spend your money while you can, live it up, "I'm worth it" are all cliches that are ingrained in our psyche as we travel through this life. Then there is: share your toys, offer your seat to someone else, don't take the last piece of cake, splurging on gifts for birthdays and Christmas. No wonder it is confusing. True generosity comes from a thankful heart. Jesus talked about this a lot. Thankfulness for what we have been given leads to sharing what we have, meeting the needs of the widow and the fatherless. It is not always money, but many times it can be. Where our treasure is, there our heart is also. We love what we invest in. Hopefully that is more than the stock market or our clothes closet. When I am moved to be generous, I feel the grace of God bubbling up in my soul, like laughter. It feels like I am getting a gift, instead of just giving one to someone else. When I am afraid and stingy, some part of my soul is shriveled and injured. Generosity makes the heart glad, when you allow God to sing a love song to someone else through you.

Cowboy Boots

I bought my first pair of cowboy boots in Arizona 2 weeks ago. I wore them today. I don't know why I waited so long. They are the funnest footwear ever. I might need to change my motto to Cowboy Boots Every Day! Try some.

Missionary Doctor

I have a friend who is a doctor. He delivers babies, among other things. I asked him to go on a medical mission trip with me in 2002 and he did, his very first one. He fell in love with the whole life of the short term missionary. Since then he has been on dozens of trips, organizing, leading, mentoring, encouraging the volunteers, and treating the poor and sick in faraway places. Lives of both volunteers and natives have been changed forever by his tireless devotion to serving the Lord in this way. Yet, he has had his own personal challenges. Tonight we had supper and talked about many things; the highs and the lows of the past few years. We are still amazed at how God turned a simple conversation and invitation 8 years ago into this powerful force that has propelled him deep into a life of meaning that he had only dreamed about but never thought would happen. The workings of God are so complex and intricate, who can know them? When we step into a relationship with another person, how can we ever know the full portent of our lives intersecting? What mysteries lie in simple, honest friendships, that can go on to change the world!

Button Making Machine

I finally got a high quality button making machine. It makes a button 1 1/4" wide. I am in love. I think I have wanted to make my own buttons since I first saw the Badge-A-Minute ad in a magazine many years ago. For only $29.95 you could make your own button badge with anything you wanted on it.  I like the idea of having something great to say, that needs to be immortalized under plastic. I did buy a Badge-a-minute button maker, but it is a toy compared to this sturdy press. And every button comes out perfectly. I rationalized the purchase by offering to make hundreds of buttons for my friend who works for the Restavek Foundation here in Cincinnati. She wants to give them away at a conference exposing modern day slavery next weekend. So after I make those many hundreds of buttons, a very worthy project, I will get to play. I have my Ice Cream Everyday buttons, plus infinite fantastic creations just swimming around in my head that beg for expression. I might just go a little crazy for awhile.

Creating

Unseasonably warm, breezy, sunny. A perfect day for a walk, or a bike ride, or raking leaves. I didn't do any of that. I worked my mind, instead of my body, making things for the Weavers Guild craft sale in 2 weeks. There is so much inspiration available these days. Knitting books and patterns, online and in stores (and in my house), provide more ways to use up yarn than there are days to use them. Each project more intriguing than the next, spells trouble for someone with attention span problems.  It was quite an effort to stay on task, but I did. Assisted by the balmy day and solitude, I could stretch out my mind to the reaches of all the projects I wanted to finish. Yards of colorful wools and needles lay at my feet as each item received whatever little touch it needed to make it complete. Some of the items were reworks that didn't sell last year. Some are brand new creations. It was as if the energy that had been ebbing out of my spirit all week finally turned the tide, and began creeping back in. I can now look at the week rolling out in front of me and feel like I will be able to step into it, with zeal.

Pink and Purple

I had the most wonderful day today, welcoming my friend Debbie and her 2 young children to my home. We met 2 years ago on the now defunct Skybus, on a flight from Ft. Myers to Columbus. In a magical confluence of God's grace, we connected our individual stories of working through pain and loss during the 2 hour flight. We have kept in touch all these months, and celebrated the birth of Henry and now this news of a baby due in April. It is a marvel to me that we became friends in the most mundane of circumstances. Today was good medicine. Her beautiful and lively daughter Anna is almost 5 and we iced cupcakes. Anna likes pink the most, and purple second. She used both colors to decorate the icing. The visit rushed by, like all fun does on Saturdays and soon they were all packed up in the car and headed back to Columbus. I gave them most of the cupcakes, but saved 2 for our dessert tonight. I wanted the one with the pink and purple sugar sprinkles.

Hot Bath

So I had the chance to go out into the cold tonight, but instead decided to take a hot bath. I have thought about buying a hot tub to put on the porch, and still haven't decided not to, but for now the bathtub has to do. When I was a girl I took baths in an antique claw foot porcelain tub. My father made a tray that fit across the width of it, and I kept all my toys there. I remember having some sort of soap that I could draw with. I would soak until the water was cold and my fingers were shriveled. I have a better system now. I turn on a space heater and shut the bathroom door and get the room toasty warm, so the bath water stays warm for a long time. Long enough to read a magazine all the way through, and relax with the smell of lavender bath salts. Long enough to feel the warmth and softness seep deep into my soul. I lay back and remember being a child, alone in the tub, singing silly songs, playing slip and slide while the water drained out. Some memories are so vivid, when I realize they are 50 years old I am amazed. Like rolling pennies, 50 seems so many, hard to count and stack into a paper sleeve. I am glad I can choose to stay home and take a bath, instead of going into the cold. That is one of the fine benefits of adulthood.

Naps

I was never a nap fan. When I was a little girl, my mother used to make us take naps every afternoon. I just pretended to sleep. Sometimes she would bribe us with a new toy. I wanted an Olive Oyl doll (from the Popeye cartoon), which she got me when I agreed to take a nap with her. I used to play a little game with metal hair clips on my fingers, pretending they were crippled and walking over the sheets.  I imagine my mother was exhausted taking care of 4 children under the age of 6. Nap time was a chance for her to take a break for an hour or so. I took a nap today, since I was feeling the effects of chemo on Monday. I slept for 4 hours, not one. I didn't need to fake sleep, it came readily. It was quite enjoyable, really, as the afternoon slipped into evening and suppertime and knitting group. There is research on the benefits of napping. I can agree that today it was a wonderful medicine. Now since the day is ending, I will crawl back under the covers and let myself continue to rest and heal.

The Impossible Dream

Jane and I went to see Man of La Mancha last evening, performed by a very talented cast of Tucson locals. Every song was done to perfection, in this most moving and inspiring musical. I have loved the music since I was a child, when my parents brought the soundtrack home after seeing the show in New York. I listen to it still, from time to time. The songs seem to have even greater poignancy now, while facing my own glorious quest for life. Don't we all have a dream, that seems too far away to hold but too wonderful to forsake? Can we live life not as it is, but as it should be? That seems to fall in line with what God asks us to do, the kind of life that Jesus showed us how to live. To see the good in others, to be merciful, and brave, and willing to fight for what is right. To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly cause. Our pastor, Ben, is talking about our destiny. To find that can mean asking the question: What bothers you?" Not as in life's constant annoyances, but in what is going on in the world that begs for a champion, a valiant knight even in rusty armor? In the play, Cervantes asks, When people are at the end of their life, they ask why...not why they are dying, but why did they live? I do not plan on asking that question, ever. I plan to keep on dreaming.

Driving away

I made a new friend during one of my chemo sessions a month or so ago. Her name is Tara and she has a very agressive form of cancer that had spread just about everywhere when she was finally diagnosed. She is only 30 something. We talked about all kinds of things while we were getting chemo, one of the things was cremation jewelry. I had met a lady once who had a little urn around her neck and when I asked her about it, she told me it was the remains of her son. I was amazed. I told Tara this story, because I thought it was a novel idea, and I had bought a couple of little glass urns, just toying with the idea of memorializing something. Not necessarily myself. Anyway, yesterday Tara called me because she is now in hospice and wanted me to help her find the website for some cremation jewelry she could buy for her children, to put her remains in, for them to remember her. I went to the hospice with my computer and we spent the better part of two hours picking out just the right little pendants for them, that have tiny screws in the back, and little funnels to help put the ashes in. Then I drove home. I realized that, even though I have cancer, I can still drive away from the worst of it. I did not spend today in a hospice bed. I flew to Arizona to see my girls.

Prayer

I love God. I talk to Him all day long, in my mind quietly, but sometimes out loud. The out loud part is what I call praying. There are lots of books about praying, books of prayers, and classes and seminars on how to pray. I don't know why it has to be so complicated. If you have a relationship with God, you talk to Him just like you talk to everyone else you have a relationship with. Sometimes you talk nice to them, sometimes you don't. And vice versa. God's word has some serious things to say about how he wants us to be while we are on this earth. He also included some kind and loving forgiveness words. He also is funny. Just look at some of His creation. Anyway, this morning I prayed out loud because I really needed to. Out loud I can say what I am feeling deep down, where no one knows, but Him. There was some crying because some of my life is sad. But after the crying there is always a time of peace, then joy.  We are the best of friends, so I always feel listened to and comforted, even when I have it wrong. Now we can go out into the day and see what happens.

Not what is lost but what is left

I wrote a post last evening, but it read more like whining than ice cream, so I took it off. Today my brother and I were talking, and this topic came up. What do we focus on when life's course takes you in a direction seemingly away from your hopes and dreams? It is the glass half empty, half full idea. No one would fault you for looking at the negative, and it is all so easy to do. For some reason, looking at the positive is much harder. Maybe is has to do with gravity. Going up takes quite a lot of power, even a feather needs a breeze to give it lift. But down? Everything goes down, without any effort at all. Our interpretation of Heaven and Hell are the same...Hell is slippery downward easy, Heaven is high and lofty hard. It requires angel's wings. We so often settle for easy, when hard is where we want to be. Thinner, stronger, smarter, happier...dreams that take work to become real. So focusing on what is left in our lives, instead of what we have lost in our lives, takes intentional, persistent, daily determination and attention. Let the shadows of the past fall away. Live in today's light. Look up, Heaven is there.

Erasers

Today I decided I needed more than a pencil with a new eraser. I need an eraser with just a little bit of lead in it. That is because my doctor wants to do some testing and reevaluation so all my chemo dates have been stopped until that is completed. I should be used to this by now, but for some reason it still bothers me that I cannot plan my life any further than next week. I am a planner. Maybe that is why I like knitting so much. You buy a pattern and yarn and follow the instructions and eventually you have the bag or sweater that you wanted. It is a methodical process, sometimes with unexpected surprises, but you are in charge in the end and can manipulate it into a finished product you can be proud of.  My life is not like that. I am seeking a pattern where there is none; there are starts and stops and I have no idea what the finished product will look like. The only thing the same is the unexpected surprises. That is what is good about erasers. Like unknitting to get rid of a mistake, erasers take away the good and the bad on the calendar, but what is left is open days to refill with what really matters.

Collette

Collette is the name of our one and only grandchild. She is one. She is adorable. My daughter Mary, her Aunt Mary, gave her a pink tutu for her birthday. Several weekends ago, Collette with tutu was the photo focus of my very talented son-in-law, Andy. Hundreds of photos were taken, each one documenting Collette's fascination with steps, cookies, climbing, and exploring. The sun shone on her red hair and the bright colors of the building in Arizona picked out the pink tutu, and pink cheeks of this smiling happy girl. Each picture is a delight of this joyous life, perfect in every detail. Remarkable the camera's motorized ability to visit every facial expression as it plays across her face in a matter of seconds. Our human eyes cannot stop time this way and we see, but do not see, the marvelous transformation that takes place in a twinkle of her eyes as she makes a new discovery. Or a forming smile or laugh just before it blossoms. But the camera does, and makes pictures that are wonders and wonderful to see. Here they are in my lap to see over and over.

Acceptance

I have been thinking all weekend about a conversation I had on Friday with one of the nurses at St. Elizabeth Cancer Care. Now this is a great place to get treatment, if you ever need it, because all the staff are kind and good at what they do. I used to do what they do, long ago. I usually go with friends, because I have awesome friends, but on Friday both of them were sick. I figure that when I go alone, God has some plan for me there. I wasn't wrong. Jenny was my nurse and she was just who I needed to talk to. Sometimes I think I have this whole scenario figured out, and sometimes I feel just as lost as I did the first day I was told I had cancer. I feel like a bird in a net, flapping and snapping, but unable to get free of the cords wrapped around me. Jenny presented my situation in a way that I had seen before, but not with the eyes I have now. I think if I give up fighting the net, I will never be free. But I cannot fight the net. I must find the way to be free within the net. The net actually protects me from greater danger. The chemo, awful as it is, is better right now than the cancer that waits to destroy me. To see this means not fighting it, when not fighting it feels like quitting. But it is not quitting, it is living.

Buddies

Basically, this was another weekend of recouping from Friday's chemotherapy. I am doing this a lot now. I went to the Lakota West Craft show and saw Melissa...actually she saw me first. I met her when I did a show several years ago, selling my wares, and hairless from my first treatments. She was kind and spoke some encouraging words to me which I still remember. She makes "Boo Boo Buddies", colorful cotton cases filled with dried corn that you heat in the microwave for a few minutes, then put on whatever body part hurts. She sells lots of these, and she gave me one a few years ago that I use at work when my neck gets stiff. She wanted me to have one today, a new one, so I picked out a tie dyed orangey pink one. She also gave me more encouraging words, which I will treasure. I start to look for ice cream by noon, everyday, so I don't miss it when offered. Melissa found me wandering around around 12:10 today, so I got a nice treat early in the day. A "Boo Boo Buddie" for the soul. Thank you, Melissa.

Laughter

My friends and I all have problems that we would love to see resolved. But we are at an age now where we know that there is never a time when all our problems will go away, there is just sun and then rain, then sun again. We face them together, because that is what friends do. Sometimes we all wait together, huddled under our friendship umbrella, waiting for the rain to stop. Or we just go ahead out in it, splashing in the puddles, getting all wet, and laughing in spite of it.  I had a fabulous dinner with my friend Pam tonight. She has a wonderful laugh that she uses often to punctuate her stories. She faces what we all face, yet that laugh is always on the edge of her speech, aware of the silly absurdity of even the most somber moment. This gift she has always makes me happy, because it wipes away any residue of anxiety that I might face in my own life. It seems so easy to do, to laugh. It makes our souls waterproof, so that the rain does not weaken our spirit.

Plank in your eye

It is funny how, when you have a problem in your life, you keep thinking about it over and over. Like a loose tooth, you worry it to the point of distraction. It is almost impossible to think about something else until that problem is resolved. Sometimes the problem is a person, and resolution is far away. Today these words came to me: "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?" This is in the bible, Matthew chapter 7 verse 3.  The bible is an amazing book, full of ideas and stories that have maintained their relevancy throughout time. This particular question was spoken by Jesus to his disciples. He didn't expect an answer from them right away, because what they were doing is what we all do when we find fault with someone. But this question does presuppose an answer, as all of Jesus' questions do. The answer to this question will bring peace to your soul, and to those you interact with throughout your day. The answer would have something to do with identifying the plank in your eye. This might take some time. I will need some cookies.

No Empty Freezer

I have had some trouble thinking about ice cream for the past 2 days. My job has become somewhat less wonderful that it used to be. It feels like it takes all the vitality and peace that I fight so hard for, and lays waste to it all. The cancer is like that also. I would like to escape it all, but cannot. So, my soul feels like an empty freezer. No ice cream. Wait, I got a message from a new friend on Facebook. We had talked at length about my idea, my need to find the joy in every day and help others find their own joy. She shared it with someone today, and gave her an ice cream cone pin I had made. She said the person wanted me to know I had inspired her. Someone I hadn't ever met. See, there was a little pint of ice cream in the freezer after all. Not all of it had been eaten. Just a little bit, but enough to bring some hope back into the day. What we have is so much more when it is shared. When you cast your bread on the water there is no such thing as an empty freezer.

Splurge

Splurge: to indulge in an extravagant expense or luxury. This seems to be the theme of the weekend. I was supposed to get chemo on Friday, which would have made me tired and crummy feeling these past two days, but it was canceled because of my platelets being too low. Because of this, I would feel good all weekend for the first time in 2 months. So I entered Saturday like a hungry person at a smorgasbord of delicious foods, unsure what to choose first. I wanted to be outside, I wanted to play, I wanted to soak up every bit of the healthy life offered to me. Yesterday we biked outside. Today I wanted to splurge. I guess it started Friday evening with the spa treatment, and it spilled into this afternoon's tour through Ulta and White and Black. I used my Etsy business money, which I hoard, and is all mine. I bought some expensive mascara and some (gasp) leggings. 2 pair. So now I have to buy boots and long sweaters and more fun. It was great feeling like part of the world, instead of being holed up in blankets on the couch. I cherish each healthy day, when it is easy to get up and get going. These days are sweet luxuries for me.

Into the Outdoors

It was a perfect day today for a bike ride, so we loaded up our bikes and did our favorite ride from Loveland to Morrow and back. The air was cool, and held the scent of burning leaves. The trail was marked by fallen twigs and leaves, really too soon for fall but the dry weather probably has stressed the trees plenty this summer. Chipmunks and squirrels crisscrossed the trail in front of us, crows cawed and flew above our heads. If you opened your mouth, you swallowed gnats, great swarms of them that clung to our clothes as we rode through. The woods are serene, peaceful...the nearby river still and green. There is no hurry here, no urgency to finish something, no regret or fear or worry. The tall trees stand where they have stood for many years, the river flows past ancient rocks as always. There is a trust here, standing strong though time. We ride by and feel the steadfast energy of God's creation, life as it should be, circular and beautiful. We are dwarfed by it's majesty, yet lifted to it's heights at the same time. We connect to something we need in our daily routine, that constancy of God, that plants us, sustains us, and holds us, and makes our lives circular and beautiful.

Mani/Pedi

I have wonderful friends. I have collected them through the years and each one is more precious than the most expensive diamond. My friend Lynn taught me how to preserve friendships, as she is persistent in maintaining connections with her friends through all of life's many changes. I love making friends. I made a friend on an airplane trip 2 years ago that I still email and we are planning a visit, even though she lives 2+ hours away. I lay in bed one night, wondering if it would ever be a good idea to leave here and live closer to one of our children. I decided to count my friends, and when I got to 22 (real friends, not just Facebook friends) I stopped, not because I had counted them all but because I realized how impossible it would be to leave them. Anyway, tonight I enjoyed one of the many many benefits of friends. My knitting group knew I was having some tough days, so they pooled their resources and bought me a gift certificate at a local spa. I chose the manicure/pedicure combo, which I did tonight. For the 2 hours I was there, I talked to my new friend Angela about many things, including ice cream, while she did my nails. She said that tonight must be my ice cream for today. Yes, and the color: Jam n Jelly.

Blood Test

I have had many a blood test in the past 3 1/2 years. I think maybe I am getting a needle stick for every time I ever stuck a needle in someone else during the course of my nursing career. That would be a lot. It certainly is something to see your own blood go shooting into the little red and yellow top tubes. The yellow top tube carries the blood that goes into the special machine that tests for the cancer antigen that will tell me and my doctor whether or not the chemo is working. I kid around with the nurse as she puts the label on it, and I know she knows I am nervous about what information that little tube will tell. It looks like anyone else's blood, in any other yellow top tube. But it is mine.  I have had this test done dozens of times. Still, each time, as I dial the phone to get the results the next day, like today, I feel the butterflies in my stomach. I wait for someone to answer the phone, I wait while they check the computer, I wait sometimes for the nurse to get on the phone. When the nurse gets on, the news is usually not good. Today I did not have to wait for a nurse. Oney, the secretary, told me my test result was normal. We were both glad. Normal is always good.

Eating when you are hungry

Tonight we got together with a large crowd of friends for dinner at a local restaurant. This was ice cream in and of itself, since I love getting together with friends and eating. Now the eating thing has been more of a problem since I have been getting older. Up until a few years ago, I could eat whatever I wanted and stayed slim. Not now. Maybe it is age, maybe sitting all day at my job, maybe boredom or anxiety eating, but I don't have the figure that I used to. I miss some of the clothes I used to wear that are now too tight. Recently, I read a review of a book written by a woman who had been on a weight loss merry go round for 30 years. She didn't blame her age, her sedentary job, boredom or anxiety for her weight problem. She blamed her mother. She did say that she finally decided to stop dieting and just eat when she was hungry and stop eating when she was full. I think that is a remarkable idea. So I have been trying it. It does require paying attention to your body. It sometimes requires finishing your meal without eating everything on your plate. I tried it tonight with my friends, at a restaurant. It worked perfectly. I did not eat everything, I did not bring any of it home, I did not get dessert, and I still had a great time. Yum.

Finishing Things

I love to start things...crafts, books, cleaning, journals...but I have a hard time finishing them. I don't know why that is. Many of my knitter friends are the same way, we might have 4 or 5 (or more) projects going at once. Most of them do get finished, eventually, but some find their way to the bottom of the knitting basket. I have books with bookmarks halfway through, magazines with post it notes marking things I want to read or cook or make. I have dolls that need dresses, scrapbooks that need a few more pages, wool that is almost spun. I find that as I continue to mark out my days, I feel more compelled to do things I think I can finish. I sew appliance covers for my business on Etsy, and I can finish a few in an evening. I read a magazine for a single sitting, then I recycle it so it no longer taunts me. I clean just one room at a time. I blog. I finish a craft project before I start another one. (well, I still need to work on that.) I call back my friends and reply to emails right away. I look at all these tasks with new eyes, realizing that once it is done, I am free to do something else. Amazing! Finishing things is like cleaning your brain, so that it is ready for a new idea, like a house for a guest.

Orange Sunday

I go to a church that does church differently. Godwise, the stuff is all solid and relevant and biblical. It is everything else that is different. We like to have fun, before church, after church and yes, even during church. Today was Orange Sunday, the celebration of 6 years of ministry. Why Orange, I don't know. But it was a jumping off place for the energy of the day. Orange balloons, orange juice on the way in. Orange dunking booth for the kids. All the people who attend were encouraged to wear orange. We made orange cotton candy. There were more folks than I had ever seen there before...which was part of the point of the day. Smiles on everyone's faces. It was wonderful. The glow of God and the orange balloons made our different church make perfect sense. What is this great place? Check it out:www.4cornerschurch.com.

Craftiness

My mother used to tease me about how I could spend hours cutting out little pieces of paper. I had the largest trashcan of all us kids in my room.  It was yellow and I put a purple sticker of bare feet on it. It was always full. I am still in love with crafty things. Scrapbooks, cards, yarn, fabric...if it is made of anything fiber I want to play with it. My craft room could be an episode on Clean House. It is a visual of my chaotic, creative mind, running too fast to finish everything I start. Today I went to the Pork Festival in Eaton with my friend Lynn, excited to see what folks were making these days. Two years ago I had a craft booth there.  My friends helped me sell my wares, and we had a lot of fun. Then, there were lots of crafty vendors and interesting, sometimes tacky, handmade items. Things were different today. The crafty vendors were few and far between all the flea market wares...booth after booth of identical imported clothes, bogus designer purses and fake silver jewelry. Someone was selling cowboy hats made out of cardboard beer cases. That was almost intriguing. We didn't buy anything. Except ice cream. Cherry Vanilla, Moosetracks and Butter Pecan.

RATs at Wildflowers

Tonight we gave Sandy a going away party. She is moving to Texas to start a new job. She is one of the RATs, a group of friends that formed years ago at Mercy Hospital where we all worked at one time.  There are about 20 of us, and we are spread out all over the area now, but we still try and get together at least once a month to eat and talk. RATs stands for Really Awesome Together, or, Relax And Talk etc. This year has been full of challenges for all of us...family deaths, health challenges, joint replacements, divorce, broken hearts. Yet, we still can laugh over a good meal and toast to each other's success in overcoming yet another hurdle in life's road. To our bravery, our courage, our hope for better things to come. We support each other as only long time friends can. We know how hard life can be, and we are there for each other. I am so blessed to be included in this wonderful group of strong, smart, brave and funny women. And the occasional male escort. I learned long ago to cherish my friends, for they are hard won, and the best asset to have in good times and less good times. Sandy, we will miss you. We are grateful for your friendship, and hope for all the best for your new adventure.

Swimming Laps

Yes, even exercise can be ice cream. I swam laps at our gym for the first time in 3 years. I have lots of reasons as to why this was, but decided that today I had had enough of those reasons. I like to swim laps, it is somehow a way I ponder the day. And I like to sit in the dry sauna after swimming to warm back up, as the water is not my perfect temperature. So, today I was swimming and thinking about how I used to swim laps as a kid. Our club was small, but mighty. We would swim in meets in the summer, a rag tag bunch of super skinny kids, with a couple of ringers in our group that made our team successful. I was not a ringer. I swam butterfly because no one else wanted to and I could usually win a medal for third place at least. (See post Playing to Win for an explanation of my strategy on life's games. I started young.) The best thing about the meets was eating jello right out of the box. Sugary sweetness in the palm of your hand, licking huge tonguefuls, for energy we said. I don't know if kids do that anymore.
Tonight I didn't eat jello out of the box, instead I sat in the sauna and remembered it all.

Yoga

I should title this "Americanized Yoga", because I doubt that any of the yoga classes I have ever attended remotely go to the spiritual levels that true yoga implies. I mean, my teacher today doesn't even say namaste after class. Ever. She also doesn't do the thing with the bowl, making the cool chimey bell sound. She does close the class with savasana, which is my favorite part. Laying there on the mat, eyes closed, fully relaxed after 40 minutes of contortions, I think of briefly of the day before me, or behind me, then of nothing at all. I feel very still inside, not waiting for anything, just still. It is a quiet that does not come any other time, but at the end of yoga. Sometimes, during other classes, the instructor speaks of powerful things, in a soft voice, the words reaching deep into the soul. Once, after  placing myself in this position, the instructor told us to think of a safe place where we were warm and loved. For some reason, I thought of the chemo room at St. Elizabeth Cancer Care. Odd, I thought, but true. I felt safe there, they gave me warm blankets, I was loved by God. Today, there were no words, only soft music. Quietly still, no hurry, just peace.

Cast your bread upon the waters

I have read the bible enough times that, in passing conversation, scriptures pop into my head and I might even quote them imperfectly to whoever I am talking to. Today was one of those times. I had the casting your bread part right, but not the rest of it. So, of course, I had to look it up. Cast your bread upon the waters is part of the first verse of Ecclesiastes, chapter 11. Now this is not the happiest book in the bible, by any means. It is actually quite sobering. But, since the verse popped into my head, I decided to study the rest of the chapter. The subtitle of the chapter in my bible is: The Value of Diligence. Amazingly, it seemed all to do with playing to win. So, since I wanted to stay on that theme, I went to United Dairy Farmers and bought gift cards for two of my cancer fighting friends. I am hoping they will enjoy some ice cream, since UDF makes pretty much the best ice cream around. I put the cards in the mail, casting my bread on the water.  It felt like a special obedience to the God of the Universe. Let's see what happens.

New Babies

What is not to love about babies? Especially new babies, sleeping in your arms babies. The way they wiggle and smirk and squeak their little baby sleeping squeeks. Baby girl Olive in pink floral dress, matching pink hat and socks and mock shoes. Binky. Baby boy Lucas in monkey print onesie, brown mock mocs. Chubby cheeks, curled fingers, tiny eyelashes. One little cry and it's back in the arms of mom or dad, which is just fine by me. I got to hold them while they were dreaming of someone, someplace, somewhere. I got to remember my own babies, someplace cozy, somewhere long ago. It brings all of life together, the past, the present, the future...sitting in a chair in my friend's backyard.

Shopping

Shopping used to be something I would do whenever I was bored, or lonely, or worked up about something. This was years ago. It now an activity I do because I actually need something in the store, like cat food, or a pair of black pants that fit. Otherwise I find it tedious and dissatisfying. Today, after chemo, Sherry, Donna and I went shopping near the hospital at a great outdoor mall. We spent most of the time helping Donna spend money on curtains and bedding for her new house. We went into new stores and tried on hats and jewelry. Sherry is the consummate shopper, she brought coupons for every store, has a great eye for what goes with what. I told them I had until 7 pm before I turned into a pumpkin, so we shopped, then ate dinner together. It was wonderful and relaxing, this shopping. I told them I wanted to have t-shirts made that said: It's Chemo Day-always a great time! Because that's how I feel when they are with me. Safe and loved and healthy. Normal.

Playing to Win

I am not a marathon runner. I am not even a runner. I hate competition. I only like to play games I am very sure I can win. I am pretty good at Pictionary, because I have a quirky and long memory. And Scrabble, because I like words. The cancer situation I am in is definitely a marathon. I definitely don't think I can win. If this was any other scenario, I would have bailed by now. Unfortunately, bailing looks a lot like dying, and I don't want to do that either, even though I am a firm believer in eternal life and heaven and banquet table with Jesus and all that. So I am perplexed. My new friend Melissa told me last night to play to win anyway. As if. I fully admit I don't know how to do that. Maybe it would be easier if I wasn't a nurse and knew too many things about cancer, or if I hadn't been dealing with this for over 3 years and haven't really had all that much healthy time. What if playing to win meant that I looked at each new day as an opportunity to love my struggling body and take care of it and feed it good things, take long walks and stay calm. What if it meant believing in my doctor's plan, and God's plan, and trusted in the best possible outcome? It would certainly be a win that would beat any game of Pictionary.

Knitting

Knitting is easily one of the best ways to relieve stress. Maybe not for everyone, but certainly for me. I learned how to knit when I was maybe 9, my aunt was a fabulous knitter and thought I was old enough to knit a sweater. She bought me beautiful sky blue wool yarn and silver needles and taught me the stockinette stitch. I worked on that sweater, off and on, for 7 or 8 years. Finally I decided to finish it without sleeves, so I made it a vest and actually wore it a few times. It was much too small, having started as a sweater for a 9 year old. I didn't knit again for a long time. Knitting seemed too technical and exact and excruciatingly slow. I don't really remember when or how it happened, but one day I decided to use my canvas paintbrush holder as a knitting needle holder. And I filled every slot. I have made a dozen pairs of socks, hats, mittens, sweaters, too many scarves to count. Now I have taught knitting to my friends. When we get together to knit we also share part of our lives, as the needles clack away, talking of children and husbands and lost jobs and found jobs and hard days and fun days. What we create we will give away, each item carrying in every stitch the relief that comes in having caring friends. Who knit.

Zumba

Tuesday night is Zumba class at the gym. I don't really go to the gym any other time right now, but I really like zumba. Danelle is the teacher, and she is young and energetic. The class is always packed. I used to be the oldest person there, 3 years ago, but now there are more women my age. I can't do some of the moves, like the body roll, but some I can do, like the gyrations. My daughters hate to think of me doing this, and I do agree it isn't pretty. Something about doing pelvic thrusts and stanky leg moves can be revitalizing to a woman whose figure barely resembles one she was proud of 30 years ago. Maybe the younger girls are laughing at me, because I get in the front of the class and they are behind me. I really don't care. The fact that I am there, dancing to hip hop and latin music, is a testimony to my ongoing physical ability, as well as my sense of humor. Zumba lets me pretend, at least for 50 minutes, that I am pretty and sexy and fit. As long as I don't look in the mirror.

Favorite Things

I did many of my favorite things this weekend, which I didn't expect, since I had chemo on Friday.
Here is what I did: rode 28 miles on my bike, from Loveland to Morrow, to eat ice cream, watched Riverfest Fireworks, ate a BLT at Mt. Adams Pavilion before the fireworks (bacon is better than ice cream, ask Jim Gaffigan), swam two more times in our sparkly clean perfect temperature pool, sat in the sun and almost got sunburned...but didn't.
I started out believing that this would be a difficult weekend, but ended up believing that this was one of the best weekends of the summer. What happened? I found a book that my friend Sharon had given me in 2007, when I first was sick, and I had read it and put it away. So three years later I read it again, this weekend, and discovered what I had been missing for the past 3 months. Hope.
Hope for healing, hope for good days, hope for peace and joy. Something deep down rustled in my soul, something that had been neglected and cast aside. This hope woke up, put on it's big girl shoes and got going. Down to Mt. Adams, out to Loveland, into the brightest of days.

Reflection

Sometimes I falter in my ability to be brave and positive and hopeful. I think I am doing fine, and then I start talking to people and their comments back to me reflect a self I don't like the looks of. I can blame them for not hearing me correctly, or some other misunderstanding; but to be truthful, they are only responding to what they heard, not just the words but also the tone. It is hard to study that reflection, to see every line and blemish, and not be discouraged. No amount of makeup can erase what is there, it can only cover it up temporarily. Better to face the flaws, and spend some time and thought into correcting them. My ice cream today was a flavor I don't really like...pistachio, maybe...the flavor of reality, reevaluation, readjustment. My hope is that God will transform it, yet again, into redemption.

Evening Bike Rides

Tonight was the last night of West Chester's Music on the Square. We don't always go, but tonight I needed to get out and ride my bike and do something fun. I always hope to see someone I know there, but almost never do, except for tonight I saw my friend Lisa. The band played cover songs that I remembered from high school; The Eagles, The Band, Paul Simon. Someone had a large handful of maybe 50 blue and white balloons to give away, but somehow they got away from him and all of them lifted into the sky at once. The crowd gave a united gasp and we watched them drift higher and further away in just a few minutes. It was a beautiful evening, breezy and warm, and we stayed until darkness was settling around the square. Riding bikes in the evening dusk is a rare treat, and suprisingly we saw more riders, even children, pedaling in the park on the way home. I guess I am not the only one who needed to get out and ride my bike and do something fun. Shrugging off the darkness, we all pedal down the path and feel the breeze in our hair, finally free of the day's business.

Golden Orb Spiders

My daughter Mary called today while she was eating lunch in the butterfly garden at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden. She works there and was enjoying watching the Atala butterflies dance over the flowers. She was equally enthralled with the Golden Orb spiders, which also reside in the garden and make complex golden webs high up in the trees. Not knowing much about these spiders, which she said are as big as tennis balls, I looked them up on the internet. Tucked into all the detail about the genus and species was an little comment that a piece of cloth, the only one of its kind, had been woven from the golden silk of a million spiders and was recently donated to the American Museum of Natural History. The picture of the beautifully woven fabric cannot possibly do justice to what must be the most amazing piece of textile ever made. What a wonderful dream someone must have woken up from that inspired the incredible amount of perseverance to see this priceless golden fabric come to reality. Would that all our best and daring dreams inspire such amazing works!

Mt. Adams Bar and Grill

Mt. Adams Bar and Grill is a nice place to eat, since it is not expensive and the food is good. It is especially nice when your company is an energetic young woman, who is full of fun and good conversation. I have known Elizabeth for a very long time, but only in the past few years have we really become friends. She is around my daughters' ages, so this friendship is special to me, as both my daughters now live thousands of miles away. She just got married this summer and her life is coming into full flower, wonderful to see. And she shares some of it with me, which is such a beautiful gift. We talked about lots of things, and shared some chocolate cake a la mode. We made our way back down the city streets to her home, enjoying the evening, making plans for our next "date". I don't take for granted the sharing of our lives, both at very different places on the lifetime continuum. We share a love of God, of wanting to do good works, to make a difference in the world, finding God's plan. But even being in the center of God's will can be a tough place to stand...I want to make sure she knows to get enough ice cream, so she doesn't get tired. And I will always be ready to share whatever I have with her.

Last Days of Summer

Summer is the best season of the year...full of warm days, long lit evenings, family gatherings, watermelon and, of course, ice cream. Some folks live in summery places year round so it is not such a big deal, but in Ohio summer is special, mainly because it only lasts 3 or 4 months. We have a community pool where we live, and many times we have it to ourselves. It is not very big, but it is sparkly clean and the water is almost always the perfect temperature. In a few days, the sparkly clean, perfect temperature water will be spilled out onto the ground and we will have to wait for a very long time before we can swim in our pool again. So tonight, I swam and swam, trying to absorb every beautiful moment of the dipping orange sun and the greying sky. The sparkly clean, perfect temperature water supports my gliding strokes and makes such a wonderful slapping sound against the tiles. It is a friend that I love to hold on to, but cannot make stay. So I stay in the water until the last long ray of sun is gone.

Babes at the Green Dog

One of my dearest buddies, Amy1 (I am Amy2) started a support group of sorts for us cancer girls. We almost all have the same doctor, almost all have the same cancer, and almost all are cancer free. Except for us Amys. We all get together regularly to share a meal and share our stories, sometimes serious, most times not. Amazing how the joy of laughter can ring out on the darkest day, breaking the grip of fear. Today we met at the Green Dog Cafe on Columbia Parkway and ate brunch and listened to Amy1 tell of her trip to MD Anderson in Texas. She is the reason we all know each other, she has had cancer for a long time, and she is the youngest one of us. We all love her and you can feel the love right back, her quick smile and bright laugh the best medicine for us. We are a company of strong and brave women in a corner of a busy restaurant; who could know what we have all faced and suffered through and still to laugh and talk about our hopes for the future. We share a common path, we are a sorority, Babes. Thank you, Amy1.

Cotton Candy

I made cotton candy today at Odysseafest at 4 Corners Church. I love making cotton candy, almost as much as I love eating it. Odyssea is the name of our church's Children's program. Last weekend I was the 1st/2nd grade teacher for second service. I was feeling some sorrow that day, as my daughter was on her way back to Florida, after a wonderful 4 day visit. I felt the weight of that, and the cancer, and the fact that my husband still had not found a job. I stood in the back of the room at the end of first service, and cried during the last worship song. I headed back to the childrens' room for the start of second service. It was very busy, and toward the end of the hour we herded the children into the main room to watch the baptisms, as is our custom. We sat on the floor at the front, one little boy was reclining on my leg, and a little girl had chosen to sit in my lap. The worship team began singing the same song that, only 90 minutes before, had brought tears to my eyes, but this time I only felt joy. My daughter was still flying far away, I still had cancer, my husband was still without a job...nothing had changed except that now I felt loved by two small children, and the God who made us all.

Dismantling the Mountain

Sherry and Donna accompanied me to chemo today, which was a wonderful gift. Donna recently moved to a smaller house and she is struggling with how to fit her old house into her new house. We talked about downsizing and curating the memorabilia of our lives. How ironic that we spend the greater part of our adult lives assembling a mountain of things, only to see that we must dismantle it once our children have left, our health or finances have changed, our social circle has tightened. We are at once the curators of family heirlooms and keeper of family memories. We all seem to have an innate need to preserve our lives into the future, as if, by the presence of our stuff in other's lives, we can continue to live. What folly! Better to make the memory today, with the stuff of good conversation, coconut cream pie and coffee, and hugs. Stored in the very fiber of our souls, to sustain and cultivate friendships that are present every day, providing support to our lives. Dismantling the mountain of things, we find the best treasures, not in boxes, but in the love inside that puts joy in our hearts.

A New Day

I have had ovarian cancer for over 3 years, and I am glad to be alive. I am still getting chemotherapy to keep the cancer quiet. I have been up and down with this disease, and I have had enough of that. My pastor, Sam Luke, once said: I have been happy and I have been sad...I would rather be happy. So this blog will explore how to do that.
It came to me one day, while watching my husband eat a large ice cream cone, that ice cream cannot be eaten slowly. It must be eaten fast enough to stay ahead of its transformation back into lowly milk and sugar. So, as fast as it is wonderfully in your hands, and on your tongue, it is gone.
How can one deal with the loss of such a great treat? Have ice cream everyday...
Now, I like ice cream as much as the next person...but I don't long for it when I don't have any. What I do long for is the joy that comes from the pleasure ice cream gives in it's taste, and it's cold trickle down the throat on a hot afternoon. So daily ice cream doesn't have to be ice cream at all...just something that brings joy to the soul...whatever that may be...today.