https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YUGwUgBvTU
Saturday, August 28, 2021
One Small yet Significant Storm
Everyone has a storm…a story of God’s faithfulness
By the end of the day I knew, this wasn’t the classroom for
me, but now what? I need a day, some
distance, some perspective. It was with
those thoughts that I went to talk with my principal, the one who assigned me
to the classroom. She had already left for the day. So I notified important people- I won’t be at
work tomorrow.
Phone calls and texts resulted. Well, are you resigning? No. I’m
not sure. This isn’t where my gifts
lie. I wasn’t prepared for this
classroom- the most wonderful individuals with so many special needs. Capable of
learning, yet nonverbal. So in need of a
very rigid schedule, and lots of one on one instruction time.
These are things I haven’t done since undergraduate
school. They were way back in my
brain. The past 16 years or so have been
with high school students with a different type of special needs. I just finished my EdS building new tools to help
them succeed. If I had wanted to retool
for multi-disabilities, there is a major for that. It’s not my gift, although I love these
kiddos. So- I went to my Heavenly
Father.
Thursday night and into Friday afternoon I fasted and
prayed. I got up in the morning and
searched God’s word. He brought me to
the Old Testament and some lessons from David in 1 Chronicles 14. David was
eager to go after the Philistines, yet when he inquired of God, this was the
answer
‘God said to him, “You shall not go up after them;
go around and come against them opposite the balsam trees. 15 And when you hear the sound of marching
in the tops of the balsam trees, then go out to battle, for God has gone out
before you to strike down the army of the Philistines.” 16 And David did as God commanded him, and
they struck down the Philistine army from Gibeon to Gezer.’
There is much more to the story of David, as he
commands the Levites to bring the Ark to the city of David. What struck me was his obedience to God. Then David sings thanks to God in Chapter 16.
David's Song of Thanks
8 Oh give thanks to the Lord; call
upon his name;
make known his deeds among the peoples!
9 Sing to him, sing praises to him;
tell of all his wondrous works!
10 Glory in his holy name;
let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice!
11 Seek the Lord and
his strength;
seek his presence continually!
The
song continues, but I had all I needed.
Seek the Lord and His strength, call upon His name.
And
so I called through tears and song and uncertainty. SEEK
After
the fast I “plugged back in.” I
retrieved my phone and checked my messages.
I had a message from Human Resources wanting to meet with me. Nothing else related to the trial, specifically. I checked the Teach In Alabama job site for
openings and there it was: Brookwood
High School, special education teacher, second posting. Hmmm, this might be promising.
Meanwhile,
I met with HR. To the credit of Shelby
County Schools, they listened to my story.
They, rather the HR superintendent and his two staff members, were
willing to work with me and get me the proper tools for that classroom. Training- LOTS of training, curriculum, and
more paraprofessionals. (I was short
staffed day one.) They “need experienced
teachers like me.” And I agree. However, I wasn’t the experienced one for
this position. There was someone who
could do it better- in the best interest of the students and the parents. Someone with amazing gifts and talents where
mine do not lie. I asked about a different position back in Inclusion, but none
existed.
Nothing
was shouting at me to go back into the trenches, to the really hard classroom,
but I would have been willing. SEEK. I had a week full of cancer follow up
appointments. I had to make sure I wasn’t
just experiencing something medical, or the first day of school difficulties
that always exist. My insomnia was
causing me problems, but everything else checked out. Bloodwork clear, MRI results clear for one
more year, thyroid levels good as well.
Praise God for that.
I
updated my resume, I applied at Brookwood High School. I got an interview. As it turns out I even know someone that is
working there from my days in Tuscaloosa City Schools. A friend of mine whose daughter graduated
with Hannah knows the Key teacher at BHS, and they really need a good
teacher. Things fall into place…God
begins to answer the prayers of the righteous.
I
am pretty hard to convince, though. I’m
a bit (no- a lot) hard headed and quite sinful.
I believe God sent me a direct sign that He was in control.
On
the way to the interview, I literally drove through a storm. It was a quick one with no warning and an
abrupt end. I am on the interstate, no
sprinkles on the windshield, just a few clouds around. It wasn’t a sunny or rainy day, just gray
clouds. Suddenly, I was blinded by the
rain on the windshield. No warning. I could see absolutely nothing, not the road
in front of me, no tail lights or brake lights, just torrential rain on the
windshield. By the time I was able to
turn on the wipers, regroup my thoughts, and reach for the flashers, the sky
was clear. It was gone as quickly as it
came. My storm, and my clarity. I’ve got this, God said. And so I praised Him, and thanked him for my
literal storm.
Now,
to some this might seem trivial. A small
thing to worry about, especially in light of current events. A global pandemic, many suffering with
serious health issues, persecution in Afghanistan, so much more. Nonetheless it was my storm. I was brought to my knees. God has been at work in my heart all
summer. It takes something to realize
that we are really nothing but sinners- to surrender from self. To be broken and before Him. To fully trust
in our Savior Jesus Christ. I Surrender All.
I
was finally brought to the song “Praise You In this Storm” by Casting Crowns. Natalie Grant also has a recorded version. I will
post a link.
So
I have come full circle. I will be back
at work at the high school where I had my first ever teaching job. In a wonderful rural community that I still
know so much about. God has reminded me
once again that He is in control of all things.
I am in a good place. Will there
be stress, yes! Will there be
suffering? Yes! But I know HE holds me, and all aspects of my
life in the palm of his hand. This, my
friend, brings me great joy! In Christ
Alone.
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
Was it really suffering?
Note: This blog was penned two weeks prior to the outbreak of COVID-19. On the week of the actual posting, I had three follow up appointments cancelled which were to be my 6 month post op visit and mammograms.
Wow, how can it be March? My last blog was December 29. That was a while ago. Some sort of busyness has kept me from writing and continuing the story of my cancer journey. Here comes August, 2019.
If you have followed any of these posts, I had an MRI. Medical procedures don't generally scare me. I suppose because I trust the doctors enough to know what is needed. I will say that it was at this point that my church family came through. Once I received my cancer diagnosis, Lowell passed the information on to the session of Riverwood church. For those of you who may not be familiar with the government of the PCA Church, the session is made up of the ruling elders, all of which are men.
A wife of one of the session members who had previously battled breast cancer called me, just to see how things were going. I shared with her what was happening to that date. Bonnie, an amazing woman of God, gave me some of the best advice regarding an MRI. She said this: I just use the time to pray and meditate on scriptures. You like to sing, so just sing with your heart. Arm yourself with God's word. She told me a few other things as well, like how the technician can hear you, and how some are better and more friendly than others. I will say this about my MRI technician, she wasn't friendly or unfriendly. She was just doing a job. I am not one to ask a lot of questions, or offer up a lot of unsolicited information about myself, so there wasn't much conversation between us. She did explain to me the sound, referred to as a train, and that is exactly the best word to describe it. Loud noises don't bother me. I'm not claustrophobic, so the MRI turned into an opportunity for me. An opportunity to pray for all of my family members, the leadership of my church, my friends, the staff in the room at the time of the MRI, and of course a time to pray for my own healing. That was my MRI experience. It was loud, I was face down and had no idea what was actually happening above me, and I prayed for others the entire time, and yes there were praise songs going through my head as well.
Now for the results. The MRI did find some inflamed lymph nodes in my left breast. This was not part of the deal. I had been told from the biopsy that the DCIS was contained and had not spread. Possibly, though the inflammation was a result of the bruising that still existed from my biopsy. Full disclosure here...that procedure was pretty painful and I had an ugly bruise for a few weeks afterward.
On August 4, 2019, one of the last few Sundays at Riverwood before our move, after worship the session of Riverwood laid hands on me and prayed for me. Now, Lowell had suggested that this should be done as is mandated in the scriptures, but to be honest I had to work my way up to it. Why, you ask? Well, for one I hate being the center of attention. Sitting in the center of a circle of men was a bit nerve wracking. It shouldn't have been that way at all. These men of God are my brothers in Christ. They prayed specifically for God's will whether it be for me to be healed completely or to endure more. Lowell and I also asked that they pray for there to be no confirmed spreading to the lymph nodes.
Here is the Biblical mandate we implemented from James Chapter 5:
All of these prayers were answered. Amen! So that brings me to my title. Was it really suffering? Some might think so and view my circumstances as such. But no, not really. July and August were a time for me to grow in my faith: to see God's love for me and those around me, to be reminded that He is in control of every cell in my body, and to know that I am never alone.
Often I was more concerned about those around me than myself. My daughter was at Covenant College. We announced our move to Birmingham and then the cancer diagnosis, after the death of her grandfather. She struggled with so much during this time. I had just accepted a new job. What would that look like, to begin work and then take a medical leave? All of this had to be covered in prayer. God had a purpose of all of it. I wasn't concerned about the cancer. I have the assurance of salvation. Through this trial I was able to increase my prayer for those around me, and to look a little bit less at myself. That has always been my sin struggle...wanting things to go my way.
Suffering, if in fact my cancer battle can be called that, is obviously given to Christians to cause them to grow in their faith in some way. We were never promised a life free of trials. It is our response to them that should bring us closer to the throne of Grace.
James 1:2-4 [Full Chapter] Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
Blessings,
Monica
Wow, how can it be March? My last blog was December 29. That was a while ago. Some sort of busyness has kept me from writing and continuing the story of my cancer journey. Here comes August, 2019.
If you have followed any of these posts, I had an MRI. Medical procedures don't generally scare me. I suppose because I trust the doctors enough to know what is needed. I will say that it was at this point that my church family came through. Once I received my cancer diagnosis, Lowell passed the information on to the session of Riverwood church. For those of you who may not be familiar with the government of the PCA Church, the session is made up of the ruling elders, all of which are men.
A wife of one of the session members who had previously battled breast cancer called me, just to see how things were going. I shared with her what was happening to that date. Bonnie, an amazing woman of God, gave me some of the best advice regarding an MRI. She said this: I just use the time to pray and meditate on scriptures. You like to sing, so just sing with your heart. Arm yourself with God's word. She told me a few other things as well, like how the technician can hear you, and how some are better and more friendly than others. I will say this about my MRI technician, she wasn't friendly or unfriendly. She was just doing a job. I am not one to ask a lot of questions, or offer up a lot of unsolicited information about myself, so there wasn't much conversation between us. She did explain to me the sound, referred to as a train, and that is exactly the best word to describe it. Loud noises don't bother me. I'm not claustrophobic, so the MRI turned into an opportunity for me. An opportunity to pray for all of my family members, the leadership of my church, my friends, the staff in the room at the time of the MRI, and of course a time to pray for my own healing. That was my MRI experience. It was loud, I was face down and had no idea what was actually happening above me, and I prayed for others the entire time, and yes there were praise songs going through my head as well.
Now for the results. The MRI did find some inflamed lymph nodes in my left breast. This was not part of the deal. I had been told from the biopsy that the DCIS was contained and had not spread. Possibly, though the inflammation was a result of the bruising that still existed from my biopsy. Full disclosure here...that procedure was pretty painful and I had an ugly bruise for a few weeks afterward.
On August 4, 2019, one of the last few Sundays at Riverwood before our move, after worship the session of Riverwood laid hands on me and prayed for me. Now, Lowell had suggested that this should be done as is mandated in the scriptures, but to be honest I had to work my way up to it. Why, you ask? Well, for one I hate being the center of attention. Sitting in the center of a circle of men was a bit nerve wracking. It shouldn't have been that way at all. These men of God are my brothers in Christ. They prayed specifically for God's will whether it be for me to be healed completely or to endure more. Lowell and I also asked that they pray for there to be no confirmed spreading to the lymph nodes.
Here is the Biblical mandate we implemented from James Chapter 5:
The Prayer of Faith
13 Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. 14 Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. 16 Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.
All of these prayers were answered. Amen! So that brings me to my title. Was it really suffering? Some might think so and view my circumstances as such. But no, not really. July and August were a time for me to grow in my faith: to see God's love for me and those around me, to be reminded that He is in control of every cell in my body, and to know that I am never alone.
Often I was more concerned about those around me than myself. My daughter was at Covenant College. We announced our move to Birmingham and then the cancer diagnosis, after the death of her grandfather. She struggled with so much during this time. I had just accepted a new job. What would that look like, to begin work and then take a medical leave? All of this had to be covered in prayer. God had a purpose of all of it. I wasn't concerned about the cancer. I have the assurance of salvation. Through this trial I was able to increase my prayer for those around me, and to look a little bit less at myself. That has always been my sin struggle...wanting things to go my way.
Suffering, if in fact my cancer battle can be called that, is obviously given to Christians to cause them to grow in their faith in some way. We were never promised a life free of trials. It is our response to them that should bring us closer to the throne of Grace.
James 1:2-4 [Full Chapter] Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
Blessings,
Monica
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Suffering and Sorrow part 2 July
July 1st, 2019 Lowell and I have arrived in Huntsville, and talked to each of the kids to let them know that Grandpa is not doing well, and we don't know how much longer will live but do know that his health will likely decline rapidly. I especially want James to know this, as he is scheduled to leave for a missions trip to Kenya on July 3rd.
They are able to come to Huntsville and visit with Grandpa Lawther and surprisingly he is awake. His eyes are open, anyway. This is the last day I remember him being awake for any amount of time. After July 1st, he sometimes flutters his eyes open with little recognition.
July 4-6 Mark, Barbara, and I alternate times sitting with my dad. He still isn't eating or drinking of course. It is my nature to want to try and feed him some broth or at least try to get him to sip something, but modern medicine has determined that this actually causes fluid build up that can lead to pneumonia. Waiting and doing nothing is the hardest part. It is my nature to want to fix things, or at least try and do something about them. That won't be possible this time.
We are waiting to get word from my sister Alison to see when she will come and visit Dad. She has to get a flight from Austin, Texas. Flying on a holiday is tricky and expensive. She is able to visit with my dad on July 5th.
July 6th, 2019 My dad passed away in his sleep early in the morning. Barbara was by his side. She calls the house to let Mark and me know. I am able to go to Whitesburg Gardens in time to see the funeral home come and take his body away. Being in the room with death (or rather a dead body to be blunt) isn't something new to me. I sat in the room with my Nanny for a small amount of time after she passed in 2005 at Northport DCH. I wasn't by her side when she passed away, but received an early morning call from the nursing staff there. I wonder what it is about this time of the morning? Possibly that as humans we experience some of our deepest and most peaceful sleep? The Hospice staff at Whitesburg told us that many deaths occur during the "wee hours," 2AM-6AM. Barbara had told me that she woke up early that morning and knew that she needed to go on and visit with my dad.
Anyway, back to being in the room. It is a strange feeling, especially after you have sat long hours watching someone slowly fade from this earth. Upon looking over at the hospital bed, you tend to look for the rise and fall of the chest, the physical sign of breathing. You listen for one last gasp or attempt to speak. Death in its finality doesn't give us those things. It is a final rest. It leaves behind sorrow and grief yet there are those that rejoice because their loved one is no longer in pain My dad was a changed man in his later years. I believe he has found his rest in the arms of our Heavenly Father. I believe he was able to give my mother Jerry a long overdue hug, whatever that might look like in Heaven.
I wouldn't describe my relationship with my dad as super close or even always loving. It was a struggle at best. He disciplined me with a stern German hand and personality. I often found it hard to measure up to his expectations. My response in the teen years was silence and rebellion. Rebellion against the many rules that my dad and step mother had for me. When I married Lowell in 1989, I was happy to leave and cleave. However, our first years of marriage proved equally as difficult as our dating years. My dad...always watching and listening and offering advice that I really didn't want. It was a struggle. Now, why share this little bit of information? Because as I look back through the years I realize that this is how my dad knew how to love. He truly did love his little girl in his own way. He loved me through his discipline. I began to understand this when I had my own children. It is true that you see things differently when you become a parent yourself. And I also say this to explain that though there was grief, for me it was minimal. Don't get me wrong, I have some wonderful memories of my father, but I am now 30 years removed from his house and have a family of my own. Time has a way of changing all things, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad. So I grieve mainly for those left behind, my kids who knew him as Grandpa and especially for Barbara who cared for and loved him deeply.
On July 9, 2019 my dad Werner Krethe Lawther was laid to rest. Here is a link to the obituary for the purpose of documentation Obituary The graveside ceremony included a Naval tribute for his service and was very meaningful. It was a HOT July afternoon.
On July 10th, I would return to Tuscaloosa for my first visit with Dr. Gross, general surgeon. He explained to me the results of my previous mammogram and the need for a further biopsy.
July 17th, 2019 I had a stereotactic breast biopsy, which is guided by a mammogram image.
Somewhere around four days later, the week of July 22, I received the confirmed diagnosis of DCIS. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. Non invasive. Stage zero. Treatable. These are the words that I remember. I also remember lumpectomy and radiation. And MRI. Dr. Gross really wanted me to have an MRI because I "deserve one." Thanks, insurance companies, for including me (who is high risk for cancer) in the deserving category. I am now here to tell you that if you deserve an MRI, don't rejoice. You can, however be thankful for that aspect of modern medicine and all that it affords in the area of diagnosis and treatment.
On July 31, 2019 I had the MRI. I won't go into detail here. I will carry that forward to August, because there is oh so much to tell along with it and this post is long.
Blessings,
Monica
Psalm 107
They are able to come to Huntsville and visit with Grandpa Lawther and surprisingly he is awake. His eyes are open, anyway. This is the last day I remember him being awake for any amount of time. After July 1st, he sometimes flutters his eyes open with little recognition.
July 4-6 Mark, Barbara, and I alternate times sitting with my dad. He still isn't eating or drinking of course. It is my nature to want to try and feed him some broth or at least try to get him to sip something, but modern medicine has determined that this actually causes fluid build up that can lead to pneumonia. Waiting and doing nothing is the hardest part. It is my nature to want to fix things, or at least try and do something about them. That won't be possible this time.
We are waiting to get word from my sister Alison to see when she will come and visit Dad. She has to get a flight from Austin, Texas. Flying on a holiday is tricky and expensive. She is able to visit with my dad on July 5th.
July 6th, 2019 My dad passed away in his sleep early in the morning. Barbara was by his side. She calls the house to let Mark and me know. I am able to go to Whitesburg Gardens in time to see the funeral home come and take his body away. Being in the room with death (or rather a dead body to be blunt) isn't something new to me. I sat in the room with my Nanny for a small amount of time after she passed in 2005 at Northport DCH. I wasn't by her side when she passed away, but received an early morning call from the nursing staff there. I wonder what it is about this time of the morning? Possibly that as humans we experience some of our deepest and most peaceful sleep? The Hospice staff at Whitesburg told us that many deaths occur during the "wee hours," 2AM-6AM. Barbara had told me that she woke up early that morning and knew that she needed to go on and visit with my dad.
Anyway, back to being in the room. It is a strange feeling, especially after you have sat long hours watching someone slowly fade from this earth. Upon looking over at the hospital bed, you tend to look for the rise and fall of the chest, the physical sign of breathing. You listen for one last gasp or attempt to speak. Death in its finality doesn't give us those things. It is a final rest. It leaves behind sorrow and grief yet there are those that rejoice because their loved one is no longer in pain My dad was a changed man in his later years. I believe he has found his rest in the arms of our Heavenly Father. I believe he was able to give my mother Jerry a long overdue hug, whatever that might look like in Heaven.
I wouldn't describe my relationship with my dad as super close or even always loving. It was a struggle at best. He disciplined me with a stern German hand and personality. I often found it hard to measure up to his expectations. My response in the teen years was silence and rebellion. Rebellion against the many rules that my dad and step mother had for me. When I married Lowell in 1989, I was happy to leave and cleave. However, our first years of marriage proved equally as difficult as our dating years. My dad...always watching and listening and offering advice that I really didn't want. It was a struggle. Now, why share this little bit of information? Because as I look back through the years I realize that this is how my dad knew how to love. He truly did love his little girl in his own way. He loved me through his discipline. I began to understand this when I had my own children. It is true that you see things differently when you become a parent yourself. And I also say this to explain that though there was grief, for me it was minimal. Don't get me wrong, I have some wonderful memories of my father, but I am now 30 years removed from his house and have a family of my own. Time has a way of changing all things, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad. So I grieve mainly for those left behind, my kids who knew him as Grandpa and especially for Barbara who cared for and loved him deeply.
On July 9, 2019 my dad Werner Krethe Lawther was laid to rest. Here is a link to the obituary for the purpose of documentation Obituary The graveside ceremony included a Naval tribute for his service and was very meaningful. It was a HOT July afternoon.
On July 10th, I would return to Tuscaloosa for my first visit with Dr. Gross, general surgeon. He explained to me the results of my previous mammogram and the need for a further biopsy.
July 17th, 2019 I had a stereotactic breast biopsy, which is guided by a mammogram image.
Somewhere around four days later, the week of July 22, I received the confirmed diagnosis of DCIS. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. Non invasive. Stage zero. Treatable. These are the words that I remember. I also remember lumpectomy and radiation. And MRI. Dr. Gross really wanted me to have an MRI because I "deserve one." Thanks, insurance companies, for including me (who is high risk for cancer) in the deserving category. I am now here to tell you that if you deserve an MRI, don't rejoice. You can, however be thankful for that aspect of modern medicine and all that it affords in the area of diagnosis and treatment.
On July 31, 2019 I had the MRI. I won't go into detail here. I will carry that forward to August, because there is oh so much to tell along with it and this post is long.
Blessings,
Monica
Psalm 107
Thursday, November 21, 2019
My Season of Sorrow and Suffering part 1 June
For many months, or probably years, I had been listening to sermons on suffering. While listening to them, I found myself counting my blessings. Most of these sermons are tied to life events such as illness, the death of a loved one, parenting children who have strayed from the church or their own faith, depression, anxiety, etc...Upon hearing many of these lessons from the pulpit, I found empathy for individuals close to me experiencing these trials, and while I was praying for them, I was also thanking God. I have three amazing children that all profess belief in Christ. They know their Rock
and Redeemer. I have a loving husband, a good job, and no immediate health problems. To say that I am thankful for these things may seem trite to some, a word that is perhaps overused along with blessings, but oh so true. These are things often taken for granted. Full disclosure, though, I also found myself saying "When is my time coming?" Things are going too well.
And so begins my story of the summer and fall of 2019. My own season of suffering, of sort. I will write my thoughts based on the days because that seems the best method of recall for me. It also allows me to think back on each event and reflect before I move forward to the next season of watching what God has in store for us.
Somewhere around June 4th, 2019 I have a mammogram. This is no big deal to me. I have been going every year since I turned 30. My mom passed away from breast cancer at the age of 43, but was diagnosed in her 30's, so I am high risk. Through each year, I have received one callback. It was nothing, so when I get a call back for a second mammogram this time, I am not worried at all and don't even give it a second thought.
June 17, 2019 I have an appointment with Dr. Alicia Glass, OB/GYN. This will be my first visit with her as my regular OB Dr. Gordon Bryars passed away back in October of 2018, so I am nervous. Due to his medical leave of absence, I am a little behind on my GYN appointments. She is very sweet, sincere, and calm and reminds me that tomorrow I have a mammo and will get the results at the end of the week. My cervix, however, looks great! Again, I am not concerned.
Meanwhile...I have been looking for a job in Birmingham. Lowell has driven that commute for seven and a half long years and I have watched the drive wear on him. My children are all out of the nest, at least for the most part except for Hannah who is away at college. Special Education is a field that is always looking for teachers, so I have been applying for a few months. I have two interviews on June 18th, but tell myself these will be the last and if nothing comes of them, I will stay in Tuscaloosa. There is nothing on the line. I am happy in my current position at TCTA but am not opposed to change if the Lord opens that door.
June 19, 2019 Dr. Kristi Sayers contacts me to offer the job at Oak Mountain High School. I am surprised. I thought I blew that interview for sure when I answered that I wanted to have my own classroom, and this position is for Inclusion, which basically means co-teaching for those of you not in tune with education terms. I accept the job!!
A few days later, Dr. Glass calls to tell me that there is something wrong on my mammogram. There is a suspicious cell on my left breast. She is referring me to a surgeon. I take the first available, since I don't have a preferred doctor. This is all new to me. That happens to be Dr. Gross, and I have an appointment with him on July 10th.
June 21, 2019 we celebrate Lowell's 55th birthday!!
June 23, 2019 Lowell and I leave for our planned two week anniversary trip. 30 years!! We travel to Gatlinburg, TN; Niagra Falls, NY; and Lake Placid, NY.
June 28, 2019, while in Lake Placid I receive a text from my step mom Barbara. Dad is not doing well in the residential facility. He has stopped eating and drinking. The nurses say that is a tell tale sign of the ending stages of dementia. Barbara will call Hospice to come and care for him at Whitesburg Gardens going forward.
I respond to let her know that we are praying for him to begin eating again and that he will not get any type of infection.
Saturday June 29, 2019 the Hospice evaluation is that my dad may have 10 days or less to live. I receive this text during lunch atop Whiteface Mountain in New York. Lowell and I will check out in the morning from the lovely Golden Arrow Resort and make the two day trip to Huntsville. It is important to us to help and support Barbara. Half of a vacation is better than no vacation. Acadia National Park and the Boston area are not going anywhere, so we will attempt to visit again sometime. This glass is still half full.
Sunday, June 30th, 2019, my dad turned 86 years old. I believe he slept through this birthday. He doesn't appear to be in any pain according to Barbara. Praise God for that.
and Redeemer. I have a loving husband, a good job, and no immediate health problems. To say that I am thankful for these things may seem trite to some, a word that is perhaps overused along with blessings, but oh so true. These are things often taken for granted. Full disclosure, though, I also found myself saying "When is my time coming?" Things are going too well.
And so begins my story of the summer and fall of 2019. My own season of suffering, of sort. I will write my thoughts based on the days because that seems the best method of recall for me. It also allows me to think back on each event and reflect before I move forward to the next season of watching what God has in store for us.
Somewhere around June 4th, 2019 I have a mammogram. This is no big deal to me. I have been going every year since I turned 30. My mom passed away from breast cancer at the age of 43, but was diagnosed in her 30's, so I am high risk. Through each year, I have received one callback. It was nothing, so when I get a call back for a second mammogram this time, I am not worried at all and don't even give it a second thought.
June 17, 2019 I have an appointment with Dr. Alicia Glass, OB/GYN. This will be my first visit with her as my regular OB Dr. Gordon Bryars passed away back in October of 2018, so I am nervous. Due to his medical leave of absence, I am a little behind on my GYN appointments. She is very sweet, sincere, and calm and reminds me that tomorrow I have a mammo and will get the results at the end of the week. My cervix, however, looks great! Again, I am not concerned.
Meanwhile...I have been looking for a job in Birmingham. Lowell has driven that commute for seven and a half long years and I have watched the drive wear on him. My children are all out of the nest, at least for the most part except for Hannah who is away at college. Special Education is a field that is always looking for teachers, so I have been applying for a few months. I have two interviews on June 18th, but tell myself these will be the last and if nothing comes of them, I will stay in Tuscaloosa. There is nothing on the line. I am happy in my current position at TCTA but am not opposed to change if the Lord opens that door.
June 19, 2019 Dr. Kristi Sayers contacts me to offer the job at Oak Mountain High School. I am surprised. I thought I blew that interview for sure when I answered that I wanted to have my own classroom, and this position is for Inclusion, which basically means co-teaching for those of you not in tune with education terms. I accept the job!!
A few days later, Dr. Glass calls to tell me that there is something wrong on my mammogram. There is a suspicious cell on my left breast. She is referring me to a surgeon. I take the first available, since I don't have a preferred doctor. This is all new to me. That happens to be Dr. Gross, and I have an appointment with him on July 10th.
June 21, 2019 we celebrate Lowell's 55th birthday!!
June 23, 2019 Lowell and I leave for our planned two week anniversary trip. 30 years!! We travel to Gatlinburg, TN; Niagra Falls, NY; and Lake Placid, NY.
June 28, 2019, while in Lake Placid I receive a text from my step mom Barbara. Dad is not doing well in the residential facility. He has stopped eating and drinking. The nurses say that is a tell tale sign of the ending stages of dementia. Barbara will call Hospice to come and care for him at Whitesburg Gardens going forward.
I respond to let her know that we are praying for him to begin eating again and that he will not get any type of infection.
Saturday June 29, 2019 the Hospice evaluation is that my dad may have 10 days or less to live. I receive this text during lunch atop Whiteface Mountain in New York. Lowell and I will check out in the morning from the lovely Golden Arrow Resort and make the two day trip to Huntsville. It is important to us to help and support Barbara. Half of a vacation is better than no vacation. Acadia National Park and the Boston area are not going anywhere, so we will attempt to visit again sometime. This glass is still half full.
Sunday, June 30th, 2019, my dad turned 86 years old. I believe he slept through this birthday. He doesn't appear to be in any pain according to Barbara. Praise God for that.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Random thoughts somehow tied together...
Today is Easter Sunday, 2014. Last year at this time I was lost in my own sort of Blah! I remember the thoughts as I reflected on the first Easter that all my kids were not home. It was tough, but it was also a reminder that Easter isn't about who you spend it with. It is about the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Lord. He has risen, INDEED!!
This year I was happy to have all the kids home. James and Hannah played in our tiny orchestra at church. That was a blessing. The music was a wonderful addition to an already glorious day. I cooked the traditional roast, rice and gravy, and green beans. We had dinner and then Scott hid eggs for Hannah and James. He is so clever. He told H and J that some of the eggs (golden and blue ones) contained something extra special. Of course that sparked some "friendly" sibling competition, but the prizes were typical Scott. A folded napkin, pop gun bullets, a plastic ring. Nothing to fight over to be sure. I love Scott's sense of humor.
Changing thoughts, two days from now, on April 22, it will be 9 years since my grandmother "Nanny" passed away. There are still many things that remind me of her. For example, she taught me how to cook a roast. It was her meal for company. We always had one when we visited her house in Mobile. Her love of flowers is another reminder. Huge azalea bushes surrounded her red house on Hunter Avenue in Mobile. She always had containers of flowers on her patio...well tended and cared for. The first few years of my marriage, she would always send me home with something to plant...daisies or a hydrangea bush.
That brings me to the thoughts behind this post. In December, God gave me a gift. No one else would ever appreciate this except me. When Nanny moved in with me in 2003, I brought a Christmas cactus from her house and kept it on a table in her room. I have never in 11 years seen a flower on that cactus. I also dug up some kind of bulb from her flower bed and planted it in my own flower bed. I believe the bulb is some type of lily, and each year it bloomed in the spring it would add one more flower. Last spring, no lily flower. I think my bushes choked it out. Nonetheless I was pretty sad. I looked for my reminder of Nanny and all that she meant to me, and it wasn't there. Well, as you may have guessed, that year in December, the Christmas cactus was in full bloom. I didn't do anything different. I gave it the same amount of water and light. It just bloomed...all over. Not just one tiny flower but plenty. God's gift to me. His reminder that he remembers me. He knows me inside and out, sins and desires and goodness. He knows me well enough to cause a flower to bloom and remind me that I am His.
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. Matthew 6:28-29
Blessings,
M
This year I was happy to have all the kids home. James and Hannah played in our tiny orchestra at church. That was a blessing. The music was a wonderful addition to an already glorious day. I cooked the traditional roast, rice and gravy, and green beans. We had dinner and then Scott hid eggs for Hannah and James. He is so clever. He told H and J that some of the eggs (golden and blue ones) contained something extra special. Of course that sparked some "friendly" sibling competition, but the prizes were typical Scott. A folded napkin, pop gun bullets, a plastic ring. Nothing to fight over to be sure. I love Scott's sense of humor.
Changing thoughts, two days from now, on April 22, it will be 9 years since my grandmother "Nanny" passed away. There are still many things that remind me of her. For example, she taught me how to cook a roast. It was her meal for company. We always had one when we visited her house in Mobile. Her love of flowers is another reminder. Huge azalea bushes surrounded her red house on Hunter Avenue in Mobile. She always had containers of flowers on her patio...well tended and cared for. The first few years of my marriage, she would always send me home with something to plant...daisies or a hydrangea bush.
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| Nanny's last birthday with us...age 97 |
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| The Easter Lily...even though that isn't the right name. |
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| Christmas Cactus |
That brings me to the thoughts behind this post. In December, God gave me a gift. No one else would ever appreciate this except me. When Nanny moved in with me in 2003, I brought a Christmas cactus from her house and kept it on a table in her room. I have never in 11 years seen a flower on that cactus. I also dug up some kind of bulb from her flower bed and planted it in my own flower bed. I believe the bulb is some type of lily, and each year it bloomed in the spring it would add one more flower. Last spring, no lily flower. I think my bushes choked it out. Nonetheless I was pretty sad. I looked for my reminder of Nanny and all that she meant to me, and it wasn't there. Well, as you may have guessed, that year in December, the Christmas cactus was in full bloom. I didn't do anything different. I gave it the same amount of water and light. It just bloomed...all over. Not just one tiny flower but plenty. God's gift to me. His reminder that he remembers me. He knows me inside and out, sins and desires and goodness. He knows me well enough to cause a flower to bloom and remind me that I am His.
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. Matthew 6:28-29
Blessings,
M
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Moody Music and More part 2
Since my last post, I have logged five more hours of auditorium chair sitting at Honor Bands, so I thought I would give my readers a little glimpse into the "more". My previous post focused mainly on The Alabama Choir School, but here is a glimpse into the instrument world. These pictures will highlight Hannah's first District IV Honor Band at the Univesity of West Alabama, and James' last. Lots more auditorium visits in my future, don't cha think!
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| James' first Honor Band Samford, 2009 |
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| James' last Honor Band UWA 2014 |
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| Hannah at her 3rd Honor Band, but first at District UWA. She wore a skirt but changed before the picture. |
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| Middle School Honor Band |
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| 2009... |
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| 2014 |
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High School Honor Band |
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| Two fine musicians |
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