tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76388183084505444912024-02-19T15:13:50.963-07:00Simple Pleasuresdivine graceTamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.comBlogger516125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-69832178510187613912015-06-17T09:16:00.004-07:002015-06-17T09:16:46.425-07:00Changes...Hello Friends,<br />
<br />
I've created a new blog and will not be using this spot any more. Due to the current events of my life, the blog is titled <b><i><a href="http://www.loveinthetimeofchemo.com/">Love In the Time of Chemo</a></i></b> and will chronicle the events, the chemo, and historical events in the life of our family.<br />
<br />
If you are interested, you can just click on the link above to visit the new blog.<br />
<br />
Thanks for all your support and encouragement,<br />
<br />
Tamara<br />
<br />
<br />
<h1 class="passage-display" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.1; margin: 0px 0px 20px;">
<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 10px;">Psalm 51:10</span><span class="passage-display-version" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline;">The Voice</span></h1>
<div class="poetry top-1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 2.6em; position: relative;">
<div class="line" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="text Ps-51-10" id="en-VOICE-14108" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"> </span>Create in me a clean heart, O God;</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-51-10" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">restore within me a sense of being brand new.</span></span></div>
</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-86265604429168295992015-06-02T20:53:00.001-07:002015-06-03T06:50:54.635-07:00Love In the Time of Chemo - Part Two<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>As it was in the beginning…<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was divorced in 1975, it was a ‘dissolution,’ or better, I
was disillusioned. As a single mom I was attempting to make a living and raise
my daughter. I learned of available jobs and went to make application for
something, anything that paid better than the minimum wage nursing assistant
position I was working. I was frightened, but determined. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A coworker saved her coins in a glass water jug. She
provided the money to me so I could get a telephone – at no obligation. I went
to the telephone company to get everything set up and was told I could not, as
“I” owed for a past due account. I left and returned in short order with a copy
of the divorce decree that showed the “Ex” was responsible for all debts
incurred during the marriage. The same employee told me it did not matter. I
informed her as I had a minor child, it did indeed matter and asked to speak
with her supervisor. I presented all the information to the supervisor and
informed them both if I did not leave with a work order for a telephone that
day, they could expect to hear from my attorney. I left with that order. What I
didn’t have were funds for an attorney!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I didn’t know was that to secure a job at one place of
employ I would have to cross a picket line. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What to do? What to do? After much deliberation I did cross
that picket line and apply for a job. More than my safety, it was the care of
my daughter that was the driving force. I stood there and explained as best I
could to the protesters that either I cross the picket line and make
application or they support me with their tax dollars. A way opened and I went
through the line. I was employed at a bio-medical manufacturing plant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me, it was a miracle, I was hired. Secure employment,
regular hours, and I became a Quality Control Technician. Think what you may
about my crossing a picket line. I did what I had to do and I have no regrets.
In fact, I worked for the company eight years before moving away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
History taught the importance of unions during the
industrialization of this nation. Sweat shops had destroyed women’s and
children’s lives. Like all good things, politics included, things often go bad.
As they progressed, unions were rife with racketeering; mafia influence and
government kick backs, not to mention political scandal and support.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was difficult for a while being called a Scab, cursed at,
people “bumping” into you hard enough to cause bruising. All in all, when
payday came, it all faded away. I could afford an apartment, food, a car, clothing,
and the utilities. It was by no means Easy Street, but it was sufficiency. Eventually
the animosity settled down and we all worked together to accomplish the J.O.B.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I and other “new” persons worked for a number of months when
a lay-off was announced. We newbies were of course, last in, first out. It was
as if someone had thrown a pitcher of ice water on me. I was able to make do
with the unemployment benefits, but not having medical insurance for my
daughter or me was frightening. Especially since it appeared I had another
thyroid issue. I’d had my first thyroid surgery at the age of 19, and now, here
at the age of 24 is appeared to have “come back” with a vengeance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw the physician who referred me to a surgeon. I
explained I did not have insurance and would not until I returned to work.
After all, The Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act (COBRA), was not first
enacted until 1985. It is a federal law that requires most employers to
provide continuing health insurance coverage to employees and their dependents
who are no longer eligible for the company's health insurance program. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So we waited. We waited until such time as I was recalled to
work and covered by insurance once again. Once that happened, tests were run and
were inconclusive. Due to my age, the surgeon and physician were sure this was thyroid
cancer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was a frightening prospect. A single mom with a child,
cancer… What was I to do with my child during surgery and recuperation? Her
father was basically non existent, not visiting, not providing support. At a
loss of what could be done, I contacted my attorney and suggested a family
member. He suggested he would write a letter to the ex-husband and see if he
would be willing to take her for the period of the school year, prior to doing
that. As we talked through the prospect, I offered to pay child support IF it
would be set aside for her. He said, “Let’s do the letter first and see what
happens.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wonder of wonder, the Ex agreed to take our daughter for the
period of the school year and all with no mention of child support. I was to
have every other weekend visitation. He was remarried by this time and they had
their own child. It was a difficult solution, but one I hoped would be
workable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the hardest decision I ever made. I cannot begin to
tell you the tears that were shed. To add insult to injury, the family member I
had considered for custody decided to have contact with the Ex and make plans
to have custody transferred to her by attempting to prove me an “unfit” mother.
Truly, I thought I would die… I wanted to die. I could not imagine life without
my daughter. I could not imagine this betrayal by a family member. As it
happened, the surgery was successful and it was not cancer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All this I kept to myself, not sharing it with my young
daughter. By this time, working full time, any overtime I could and all this
extra stress, I weighed a mere 106 pounds. I wore a size two. Yes, I dated men,
but what I didn’t want was marriage. I felt I could never trust a man again.
The pain was too much.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s when I met him… He was bar-tending at the VFW as a
part time job. I was attending the company Christmas Party. One of the older,
single women considered herself something of a matchmaker. One by one she led
every single female out to the bar to perform a walk around and introduction. This
was <st1:state w:st="on">Ohio</st1:state>. It
was not unlike the County Fair’s 4-H cattle show. Indeed, heifers on parade!
Well, maybe not heifers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was mortified that Pat, my co-worker, my “friend” would do
this! It was humiliating! Nothing became of that first meeting, but a month
later, in January of 1978 <st1:state w:st="on">Ohio</st1:state>
was enveloped in one of the worst blizzards I have memory of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the factory, I was working the graveyard shift. The news
had cautioned about an impending storm, but we were young… and ignorant. We
arrived at work on Wednesday evening to begin our shift at 10:00 p.m. Even
though it was Wednesday, by record keeping it was considered Thursday, January
26<sup>th</sup>. Our shift would end at 6:00 a.m. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At every break, my friend and co-worker Theresa and I would
go outside and check the weather. We could not believe the doomsday predictions
of the weatherman! It was temperate, in the very high 40’s and clear at
midnight. At 2:00 a.m. it was still warm, but now raining. We returned to work.
By 4:00 a.m. it was a disaster! A monster storm with hurricane-force winds
slammed into <st1:place w:st="on">Northeast Ohio</st1:place> early Jan. 26,
1978, spreading an icy coat of death and destruction. You couldn’t see at all
with the horizontal snow blowing into your face at gale force.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Blizzard of 1978, often called the Storm of the Century,
killed more than 50 people in <st1:place w:st="on">Ohio</st1:place>
and caused at least $100 million in damage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The factory was closed down, radio stations were called
cancelling the next day’s work, and all who could, piled into vehicles and
attempted to leave and return to their homes. Six of us piled into the front of
a pickup truck and attempted to leave. We traveled a quarter of a mile east to
the first stop sign and turned south. The gale force winds literally blew the
pickup truck into the snow covered ditch on the east side. We had no
alternative but to “walk” out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We must have looked like a chain of paper dolls as we held
hands and attempted to remain upright. The chain would break and one or another
was blown into a deep ditch. Back the quarter of a mile we traversed and added
yet another quarter mile to it until we found a home with lights on. The woman
was reluctant to let us in, but after seeing our predicament, she did. We set
up a triage of sorts to help those with frostbite and called the local fire
department. They were making emergency pickups and delivering the stranded to
the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Methodist</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Church</st1:placetype></st1:place> in town.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We waited and waited. Finally we called back. The truck sent
to get us had rolled and they would be for us later. When they finally arrived
and were taking us to the church, we told them we wanted to go elsewhere, as
one of our other co-workers has an apartment on the way so we were all dropped
there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I called my roommate – another female coworker and explained
what was happening and that I wouldn’t be home until much later. She said she
would send “Denny Swerline” to get us! I said not to, as the weather was
horrific. She didn’t listen, and sent him to pick us up. He would be picking my
friend Theresa and I up and delivering us to our residences.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With this information, my dear friend said she needed to be
left off first, even though she lived on the other side of town where he lived.
You see, her sister had been trying to fix her up with “Denny” and she wanted
no part of it. Her guise was to say she was giving me a pack of cigarettes to
“pay me back” for saving her frostbite fingers. REALLY? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nonetheless, that’s what this guy did. We took her home, and
then he took me to my place. Once we got there, I invited him in for a glass of
wine as a thank you. Since we were out of groceries and I had received my
paycheck that evening, he offered to take me to the grocery store. He then
helped me carry all those groceries up the frozen stair steps and into the
apartment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We talked for a substantial period of time and made a date
to see a movie about the afterlife. Life After Life, I think it was called.
That was our first date.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were married in May of 1979. He adopted my daughter as his
own. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This life, not unlike your life, has not been a ‘happily
ever after’ event. It has been one of blood, sweat and tears. Yes, tears, lots
of tears. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>Tears are magnificent. They have a baptismal quality. <o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tears can miraculously transform into the oil of joy, and
wash away the ashes of mourning. Words that comfort me are these from Psalm
56:8, via the Message</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in;">
<i>You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn<br />
through the sleepless nights,<br />
Each tear entered in your ledger,<br />
each ache written in your book.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have cried. He has cried. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have cried individually and corporately. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have cried in anger. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have cried in love. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have cried through prayer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have cried in pain and sickness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have cried through the pain of loved ones making catastrophic
choices. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What we have determined is this: Life is tough. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>I want the light to overcome the darkness and some days are very dark. <o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have determined that love is a choice. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I open my eyes from sleep, I roll over and look at him
sleeping. I make an active decision to love him this day. And only for this
day. Tomorrow, I will do this again. And the next day, too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We don’t always agree. Our lives combine and run over each
other and we have debates that spill over at our dinner table. We both believe
that even with God’s Word as the final authority, our individual thoughts and
beliefs are wholly sanctified, even if not holy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>I believe in Eucharist Theology.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<span style="color: #141823;">I believe like the Eucharist, our hearts, like the bread
are made to be broken and yet loved in all that brokenness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<span style="color: #141823;">We should live our lives as the spilled wine, allowing
ourselves and our lives to overflow, spill out and come into contact with those
who desperately are thirsting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
I feel the
pull, an actual pull to become involved in community justice issues. To pour
the oil, to bind up the wound. To quell the brokenness of our community. </div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 3.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<b><i>Yes… brokenness… and I am so filled with broken
hallelujahs. <o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In some ways I think my cancer diagnosis has been more
difficult on him than it has on me. He has become my care giver and drives me
to each appointment. He sits in on them with me as an extra pair of ears and
asking questions I don’t think of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the surgery, he bowed his head and in tears said, “You
were supposed to outlive me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” I held his
hand and told him that none of this was a surprise to God. Not one bit. How
could I argue with God about this? I am the one who did not take good care of
herself. The outcome thus far looks good as well as the prognosis. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am having extreme tiredness from the chemo, some nausea
but all in all, the side effects are minimal compared to some of my Sisters’ of
Circumstance. I have determined that ginger ale is a miracle drug. Soda
crackers too, are healing. Isn’t that a strange Eucharist mix - broken soda
crackers and flat ginger ale? Yet the nausea stops.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is eight weeks since the VATS surgery and I’ve had the
first chemo. Three more chemo sessions are scheduled, and anticipated to be
over the end of July. There are other appointments and blood work scheduled at
various times. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am optimistic. I am confidant. Philippians 1:6 in the New
International Version reads, “being confident of this, that he who began a good
work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>I choose life. <o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
In the face of what seems insurmountable, I choose life. I
choose to live with my husband and grow old. With that being said, if this does
not happen as I anticipate, I still choose life. Eternal life.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until the next installment of Love In the Time of Chemo.</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-53875125907133493182015-05-29T10:37:00.000-07:002015-06-02T20:54:51.255-07:00Love In the Time of Chemo - It Begins<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEzGiXiJgzMGgr5iNixqlRaEDi2dUCaM9PPvShPxj3a_BGcXE-6CyIgTaYGN4VRLhp-K5P61FeGeV55tK3Sc2InK1zYSUaSTo7kqufE7MJj7Epv6UDuJQum44TWKASMT_PnlQaA2pZPkG/s1600/IMG_20150528_080405728_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEzGiXiJgzMGgr5iNixqlRaEDi2dUCaM9PPvShPxj3a_BGcXE-6CyIgTaYGN4VRLhp-K5P61FeGeV55tK3Sc2InK1zYSUaSTo7kqufE7MJj7Epv6UDuJQum44TWKASMT_PnlQaA2pZPkG/s320/IMG_20150528_080405728_HDR.jpg" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dress Comfortably, they said <br />
being a bit eccentric helped</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jeremiah 17:14 TLB</span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lord, you alone can heal me, you alone can save, and my praises are for you alone.</span></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday, May 28th was a long day at the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Cancer</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>.
Husband and I arrived at 9:45 a.m. There is always the check in, then the
pager, then traveling to the various offices. The first visit was with oncology
nurse practitioner. It is on the ground floor and just down the hallway heading
north.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The entire campus of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Cancer</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>
is beautifully decorated. There are numerous paintings and photographs that
have been donated. Some have been given as gifts and some are for sale. There
is one in vibrant blues and reds and oranges depicting a wash during the time
of monsoon. It is for sale. I want it. But do I need it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It gives me joy to view it every time I'm there. I stand in
front of it and ponder the artist's technique and juxtaposition of contrasting
elements. My eye is then drawn to the similarities and the differences between
the objects. It is a wonderful piece. I've always wanted to own an
"original" piece of art, oh, something other than my own jots and
scribbles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It seems as if other things are occupying my time, but the
art world certainly takes my heart and mind to another place and I find I stop
and view and my spirit and soul are filled up with something other than cancer
and chemo. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is now time to head upstairs to the infusion pods. We
take the elevator to the second floor, check in at the station then find a
waiting room for our pager to yet signal once again to proceed elsewhere. This
time it will be either South Infusion or Central Infusion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We sit in the waiting room and are gently drawn into conversation
by two sisters. Mere observation lets you know which sister is receiving
treatment and which is the caregiver. I sit closer to them and share in the
conversation for a bit. Time passes ever so slowly as you await your turn, for
your pager to vibrate you into your next reality. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I picked up a magazine on home decor for multi-million
dollar homes. Briefly glanced at it and put it back down. Things I will never
be able to afford in this life time. Nor would I want these things. They would
demand more of my time, my spirit, my soul. It is almost like J.R.R. Tolkein's
"Lord of the Rings" where it owns the possessor - <b><i>My Precious</i></b>! I
desire Comfort & Joy over opulence & debt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
One by one, pagers vibrate and persons excuse themselves to
traverse to another area. We are a community of circumstance, drawn by a common
theme yet individual in its nature. Some talk through their disease. Others
seem to quietly clutch it to their heart and hold it and the poison deep
inside. I'm not judging, only observing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Finally our pager vibrates and off we head to Central
Infusion, where a smiling oncology nurse is waiting. First things first... the
restroom, this is scheduled to be a four hour infusion, with other breaks in
between. Her name is Setiva and she and Jennifer are my nurses in this infusion
Pod that can seat four patients and one family member each. She is immensely
pleased I've had the Chemo Education and have the Bag It! book all together and
organized. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Next it is time for my spa treatment. You see, even with all
the hydration I've been pumping into my body, my skin is parched and dry. Warm
washcloths cover my arms then are wrapped yet again in warm blankets. After 5 -
10 minutes the wrapping is removed and my veins are examined for a potential
spot to infuse the chemo. Since my four sessions are not a long term treatment,
I will not need a port. I did start rethinking that when the first and second
attempts of accessing veins in the top of my hand were unsuccessful. The first
was a beginning go, but started leaking at the very end of an anti nausea med.
There was only a minute left on the bag! Then the second attempt on the left
hand didn't work. Finally, they brought another nurse over and she found a
perfectly good vein on my right arm. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
They finished up with the one minutes worth left of the anti
nausea med, then it was a bag of fluids prior to the Cisplatin infusion. That
infusion alone takes two hours, followed by more fluids and then finishing with
Alimta and another small bag of fluids. We were in <st1:place w:st="on">Central
Infusion</st1:place> until 5:30 p.m. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There is so much more to share. They provide you with
snacks, you can purchase lunch, even Dennis was offered snacks. I had brought a
"busy bag" with me, however with the IV in my right arm I would not
be able to use my adult coloring book, or journal, so I will be making some adjustments
to the bag. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
After the fluids were administered and it was time for the
Cisplatin, our nurse came over, put it on the hook then invited Dennis to join
our circle. We held hands, she placed one of her hands on the Cisplatin and we
prayed. We prayed for healing, for minimal side effects, for strength. I am so
very humbled by her. She may be an oncology nurse, but she is a true minister
to those whom she serves, as far as she is allowed to be. Some persons do not
wish to have that particular benefit. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am becoming more and more aware that healing is not unlike
our belief in the trinity. It must encompass the body, the soul and the spirit.
It is a holistic approach to healing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
After the Cisplatin infusion was going, Dennis went to find
something to eat for himself, then returned bringing me a yogurt parfait!
Whattaguy! Being that my dominate arm couldn’t be used, he helped to feed me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I think I’ve always known that if something befell me, he’d
step up. I am an observer. When we dated I watched how he treated his mother, his
grandmother and his sisters. I knew I would be “safe” with him. Yes, though our
roles have changed and evolved over the years of our marriage, I consider this
to be “Love In the Time of Chemo”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I offered him a reprieve from the Infusion Pod and asked him
to go check on our critters. He did. He texted me at 4:00 p.m. saying he was on
his way. It takes about a half an hour for the trip and allowing for the <st1:city w:st="on">Tucson</st1:city> traffic at that
time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We still had about an hour wait as the infusion wasn’t
finished until 5:30 p.m. It was good to get home, see the critters and relax.
It didn’t feel like I was having any side effects, except for dry lips, dry
mouth so I continued to hydrate with water. Then I ate some custard pudding I
had fixed the day before. Later I cut up some avocado and made some guacamole.
It tasted good too! I was afraid to try my regular salsa as it was so very,
very hot. And in the event I ended up with mouth sores, well, better safe than
sorry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This morning I had another piece of custard pudding, some cantaloupe,
a banana and a piece of multi-grain toast with butter and orange marmalade. The
coffee didn’t “taste right” so I didn’t have any, I’ll continue with water and
green tea. I also had a bit of a metallic taste in my mouth, and was cautioned
that could happen, so at the nurse’s suggestion I am using plastic ware and no
metal in the mouth!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
That is all for this installment of “<i>Love In the Time of
Chemo</i>.”</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-32477632214146588072015-05-24T21:52:00.000-07:002015-05-24T21:52:32.173-07:00The Coming Week <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This will be a busy week. Tuesday
holds five medical appointments and / or tests. Beginning at 8:00 a.m. it will
be the phlebotomy lab, then chemo education, a B12 injection, then off to
another location for an MRI followed by a CT scan without and with contrast
ending at 3:00 p.m. Next is Thursday with a visit to hematology oncology and
then to the chemo infusion. This begins at 10:00 a.m. and will end at 2:30 p.m.
The chemo takes four hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yes, a busy week indeed. I
haven’t included a “fun” visit with a friend on Wednesday for lunch. This
should prove to be a bit of respite and a break between medical procedures. I’ve
packed myself a “busy bag” of things to keep me occupied on Thursday. It
includes a journal for recording thoughts, doodles, and to write out prayers. I
also have a “grown up” coloring book, color pencils, and word search puzzles. I
will also throw in the current book I’m reading on Sabbath Keeping. Now that
I’m thinking this through, I will also throw in my calligraphy pens.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I have two friends, actually,
Sisters of Circumstance at church who are also facing their own cancer
treatments. One is taking oral medications and the other was just changed from
a two chemical regime to one chemical. She is doing much better with this
treatment. She sang with the group Grace Multiplied Sunday and she looked so
well. She was radiant and lovely. It was good to see her, hear her lovely
harmony with the songs that were sung and to speak with her and hug on her!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yes, Sisters of Circumstance. We
can share our fears, each others strength, pray for one another and be
encouragers. All too soon enough, there will be others who will join our ranks
as Sisters of Circumstance. It is my desire to gather wisdom from this journey
and then to be able to minister to the next set of sisters. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
God knows, there are those who
have shared their journey with me of what has and what has not helped. It has
been my prayer, my desire that through all of this, God would “make it count”
for the sake of eternity. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My sister, “She Who Walks in
Prayer” was the epitome faithful endurance in the face of pancreatic cancer. My
other sister, “She Who Walks in Grace” continues to be a testament of
sustaining faith in her health crisis. So very much has befallen her, not the
least of which has been a recent heart attack. She continues to exemplify grace
and dignity in each step of her journey.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am “She Who Walks in Faith” and
I pray it is so. May my faith sustain me throughout this journey. May my
attitude stay positive, even when I may not feel so. May prayer be always on my
mind, upon my lips and in my heart. May praise be my stronghold. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="margin-left: .5in;">
The Lord is my rock, my
fortress and my deliverer;<br />
my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,<br />
my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.<br /><o:p> </o:p>Psalm 18:2 (NIV) </blockquote>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-89693265551776863392015-05-12T17:20:00.000-07:002015-05-12T17:20:03.344-07:00Maternal Reflections<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is the throes of remembrance.
Sunday was Mothers’ Day, perhaps that’s the reason. The young woman, <i>girl actually</i>, holding her newborn
daughter, unwrapping the blanket to count fingers and toes, to hold this newly
birthed child to her breast, to smell the newness of life. To be so filled with
love that she thinks her heart will explode from the sheer magnitude of it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I held this child, this baby girl
to my breast and my breasts began to weep. My breasts wept the love of sustenance.
I could not hear her crying or cooing without my breasts weeping, weeping for
the closeness of contact, skin to skin. It was a bonding ritual of continuing
life, of sacrificial giving.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This happens again and again and
again and as many times as we give birth or welcome a child into our hearts and
home through adoption. Can you cut a heartstring the way you can sever an
umbilical cord?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Heart strings are forged through
love, through pain, through sacrifice. Like the strings of a violin, they play
a familial melody, often in the haunting strain of a minor chord that pierces
our heart and even our soul.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There is nothing like a newborn
child to impress upon your mind, your heart how very insignificant you are. How
you will stop at nothing, absolutely nothing to ensure this child’s well being,
even unto the point of death.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The sheer act of mothering can
teach us much about the Father’s sacrificial gift of love. Which of us has not
seen our child hurt or ill and wished we could take away all the hurt, the pain
and the heartache? To bare it ourselves, even gladly so this child, our child
would remain unscathed. So they might live a full and productive life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The truth is… the truth is there
is much pain that goes into parenting. As a parent we do the best that we can
with the resources we have at hand. Some days it is two steps forward and three
steps back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes a family unit is
fractured, broken beyond repair and husband and wife go their separate ways
leaving a child or children in the wake of irreconcilable differences. I can attest
to being a single parent and raising a child alone. I know the fear, the
insecurity, the loss of financial security and the fear of second guessing of
each and every decision. I have felt the fear of living from paycheck to
paycheck, the fear of job loss or serious illness. Yes, I know the fear, the
fears that surround single parenting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I know the love and the pride
that comes from seeing your child succeed. And then I know the opportunities to
learn from failure. Yes, the child’s failures and more so the parent’s failures
and the myriad of learning opportunities. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I have two children. The
firstborn – my daughter (from my first marriage) and almost ten years later our
son. It was like having two separate families. After we were married, my
husband asked my daughter if she wanted to have the same last name as we had
and be adopted. She agreed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Families are a combination of
pain and joy. With my current medical status, I am grateful to have my family
to share this with. We can cry together, we can rejoice together and we can
encourage one another.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Thirteen lymph nodes were removed
and examined. All thirteen were free and clear of any sign of cancer cells. For
that I am grateful. Still, it was recommended that I see an oncologist who
specializes in lung cancer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I met with her on May 6<sup>th</sup>.
We discussed the options. Due to the size of the tumor (approximately 1 inch) I
will be having four rounds of preventative chemotherapy. Once every three
weeks. All this has been set up and will begin on May 26<sup>th</sup>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In the meantime, I had two
emergency department visits on the 7<sup>th</sup> and the 8<sup>th</sup>. I
knew the backache. I knew it well. It is another kidney stone. The pain was
unbearable. I had to return the second time for more (stronger) pain relief. I
had only two hours of sleep from the evening of the 6<sup>th</sup>, through the
early morning hours of the 8<sup>th</sup>. I will be seeing the urologist on
the 21<sup>st</sup>. There is a very real chance I can “pass” the kidney stone.
That is what I am praying for, as I don’t wish for anything to interfere with
the chemotherapy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
James 5:14 The Voice<br />Are any sick? They should call the elders of your church and
ask them to pray. They will gather around and anoint them with oil in the
name of the Lord.</blockquote>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-66184957362871324552015-04-24T13:27:00.001-07:002015-04-24T13:27:21.056-07:00Tonight's Televised Special<div class="MsoNormal">
Tonight will herald the Diane Sawyer – Bruce Jenner
interview. I will not be watching. It may be a story of human interest, but
frankly, I’m just not interested. Not in Bruce, not his struggles and certainly
not the Kardashian Klan. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What does concern me is the loss of life as a boat packed
with hundreds of migrants capsized in Mediterranean waters, many were trapped
inside behind locked doors. This is nothing short of genocide. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maltese authorities, who were working with Italian rescuers,
said around 50 of 700 people on the boat had been saved. A migrant, who spoke
to investigators after being airlifted to a hospital in <st1:city w:st="on">Catania</st1:city>, was among dozens who authorities say
were saved from the sinking vessel. He told investigators there were 950 people
on board – a number that hasn’t verified. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the latest in a series of dangerous voyages for
hundreds of men, women and children who boarded the boat in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Libya</st1:country-region>, hoping to make it safely to <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>. Passengers on the boat were from a number of
nations, including <st1:country-region w:st="on">Algeria</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Egypt</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Somalia</st1:country-region>,
<st1:country-region w:st="on">Niger</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Senegal</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mali</st1:country-region>,
<st1:country-region w:st="on">Zambia</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Bangladesh</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on">Ghana</st1:country-region>, prosecutors said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
According to the International Organization for Migration, <st1:place w:st="on">Italy</st1:place>
registered more than 10,000 migrants arriving in the first three months of
2015, and about 2,000 were rescued at sea during the first weekend of April in
the Channel of Sicily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most migrants recorded this year come from countries in West
Africa as well as <st1:country-region w:st="on">Somalia</st1:country-region>
and <st1:place w:st="on">Syria</st1:place>,
the IOM said. They use <st1:place w:st="on">Libya</st1:place>
as a country of transit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At least 480 migrants have died while crossing the <st1:place w:st="on">Mediterranean</st1:place> since the beginning of the year, often
because of bad weather and overcrowded vessels used by smugglers, the International
Organization of Migration said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes the captains and crews abandon the ships, leaving
passengers to fend for them selves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most of the migrants are asylum seekers, victims of
trafficking or violence, unaccompanied children and pregnant women.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear God? Where are our priorities? And what can I do
outside of penning these words? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
God my Father, God my Mother – keep my heart soft and in
tune to “the least of these” – my brothers and my sisters. Guide me, direct me
and show me how I can make a difference in this world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even so, Amen.</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-74145382323374659022015-04-23T20:46:00.001-07:002015-04-23T20:47:34.572-07:00The Final Analysis <div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
My medical adventure began during the end of January. I had a meet and greet with a new Primary Care Physician who was not happy with test results from the previous year and had them all rerun. It turns out she may be intuitive. All the tests were rerun and there were some changes from the prior year. This resulted in more tests… and on and on.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I have a new primary care physician, a new cardiologist, a new cardiothoracic surgeon, and soon I will have a new oncologist. Do not </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">suspect the worst. This is the best possible outcome, I can assure you.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
I met with the cardiothoracic surgeon on Tuesday. All the biopsy results showed the seven lymph nodes that were examined are negative for metastasis. All final surgical margins are negative for malignancy by at least 3.7 cm.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
With this being said (and copied directly from the surgical pathology report), the tumor itself was 2.5 cm at its largest point, is a non-small cell lung cancer called adenocarcinoma. It is considered to be at a stage 1B. According to the cardiothoracic surgeon, it is at the size where an oncologist needs to determine if chemotherapy is required or not. If it were smaller, nothing further would be required except for regular checkups.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
When Dr. Kim said all the lymph nodes were clear, I responded by saying, “Thank God!” and Dr. Kim responded by saying, “Yes, hallelujah!” I will see him again in October and will have another CT scan before that visit. I will be seeing him on a very regular basis for the next five years.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
With all this good news, my only response is that I still wish for the Lord to make this count and that I may honor and glorify my God and my Savior. I h<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">ave numbness from the spinal anesthesia and it makes wearing a "support garment" uncomfortable - very uncomfortable. I may never wear a bra again, but use a one piece camisole type garment. But again, it is only a temporary set back.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I also learned this week that my primary care physician is leaving her practice effective in July. That means I need to find a new PCP. Finding someone you trust is difficult, but not impossible.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Indeed, “Prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship with God… and through relationship there can be healing in the absence of cure.” ~Sara Miles</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I will remain, “She Who Walks in Faith” and I am extremely grateful for your prayers and your spiritual support. To quote Dr. Kim, “Yes, halleluiah!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Yours, because we're His,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
~Tamara</div>
</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-11543283311288483852015-04-19T10:26:00.000-07:002015-04-19T10:26:32.023-07:00Warrior Names<div class="MsoNormal">
My dear friend and sister in faith also had the very
same surgery I had. She has graciously shared her knowledge with me, yes, and
withheld some until the timing was right. During her health crisis I called her
"She Who Walks in Grace" - this was my Warrior name for her as she
fought her battle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our scars don’t completely match. She has four wounds on the
right side, I have five on the left. The surgery we had is VATS (Video-Assisted
Thoracoscopic Surgery) is a minimally invasive surgery used for a variety of
treatments within the thoracic cavity.
If you’re brave, you can watch it <a href="https://youtu.be/y3J0HTq0wMY">HERE</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3>
Scars aren’t always reminders of trauma — they can be
symbols of healing.</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our friend and sister Barbara was "She Who Walks on
Prayer". She is now in the presence of our Lord & Savior and is healed
completely. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3>
Indeed, “through relationship (<i>with
God</i>) there can be healing in the absence of cure.” ~Sara Miles</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems I can come up with Warrior names for my sisters,
but not for myself... so I asked my FB crew what my Warrior name should. It was
a resounding “She Who Walks in Faith”. But
I have a secret. I want you to understand there are times I waiver. Times I
feel like I have no faith at all, that I am a fraud and a phony. Times I hide, and weep and feel sorry for myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I stop and recall Christ's prayer in <st1:place w:st="on">Gethsemane</st1:place>...
“Father, remove this cup if it be your will...” (Matthew 26:36-39) Then again I
read His prayer for us, for us before we were born or were even believers...
(John 17:20-25) I remember my prayer about this illness: God, make it count! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow I have a chest X-ray and then Tuesday I meet with the
surgeon. I shall learn at this meeting what stage the cancer is and if there will
be any follow up treatments such a chemo or radiation. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have good days and I have not so good days. Tiredness
seems to be my constant companion, so when I am tired, I nap. If I am in pain,
I take the medication. If I am hungry, I eat. If I’m not hungry, I don’t eat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted instant healing. I wanted to have the cancer
removed and to be better immediately. I have learned that with this surgery,
although much better and less invasive than all the previous surgeries, it
still takes time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My voice is “strained” as if I have laryngitis. I am
assuming it is because of the intubation used during the surgery. As my friend
explained it, they use a larger breathing tube. They have to deflate the lung
that is being worked on and keep air going to the other lung. That sounds like
a very delicate dance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have moments when I “feel” like I cannot get enough air
and I begin to panic, gasping for air. Well, the upper left lobe has been
removed, so of course I don’t use as much air and it will take time to re-learn
this process and for that portion of my lung to completely heal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suppose it is the American prayer, “Dear God, grant me
patience, but do it right now!” Only it would be for healing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Hebrews 12:1-3<br />Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of
witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily
entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for
us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of
faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and
sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured
such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think of that great cloud of witnesses who surround us.
Are they the saints who have gone before us? I believe they are. Will they
welcome us when our time comes? I believe they will.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But for now, I must persevere and run the race that is set before
me and do so with joy! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even so, Amen!</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-76812084535980452052015-04-08T19:02:00.000-07:002015-04-08T19:02:12.243-07:00Cardiothoracic Surgery<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Adenocarcinoma…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Cancer…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Nodule…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Tumor…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Mass…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah, dramatic words. Powerful words. Words we don’t wish to
hear but sometimes we come face-to-face with them. Depending upon what type of
person we are, we deal with this sensory overload in various ways: head on;
with tears; with research; with prayer; with screams; with hope or even with
anger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is cardiothoracic surgery. Video assisted thoracic
surgery (VATS), is a minimally invasive (keyhole) surgical procedure. It allows
the surgeon to directly examine the chest cavity without a big incision. Three
or four small incisions will be made to allow the surgeon to use the special
instruments (video camera and endoscope) needed for this operation. A very small
video camera is used to project pictures of the chest cavity onto a screen
during the procedure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If interested, you can watch a procedure <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3J0HTq0wMY">here</a>: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After today after my shower, we counted five keyhole
openings in the chest wall. It does not involve a large incision and the
separation of the rib cage. Yes, there is pain. Yes, there is tiredness. Yes,
there is the potential for pneumonia to develop. My upper left lobe was removed
during the procedure after the confirmation of cancer was verified.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are still waiting for the biopsy results to confirm the
“stage” of cancer. This will determine the future course of action – radiation
treatment or chemo therapy. Or, if it was caught early enough, no further
treatment could be required.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the face of all this, I can say with confidence</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We are pressed on every side by
troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 1.0in; margin-top: 0in;">
2 Corinthians 4:8 New Living Translation</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I have pain. Yes, I am tired. Yes, it is as if I have
no voice due to lack of air. Yes, I am praising my Savior and Lord!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No matter the staging results of the biopsy, I will offer my
praise, for this I know to be true: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship with
God…and through relationship there can be healing in the absence of cure. ~Sara Miles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Thank you for your prayers. Please continue!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Yours, because we're His,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Tamara</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-84638063270380284012015-03-31T21:36:00.000-07:002015-03-31T21:46:00.631-07:00Maundy Thursday<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Sometimes I find a room, close the door and weep. I weep for
my failures, my shortcomings, my sins – yeah, that’s plural. I weep for the
sins of commission and for the sins of omission. I long to be a better
Christian, to be filled with the Holy Spirit and to be able to discern when
someone other than me is hurting. Then to be able to comfort and ease the pain
through what I have experienced and lived in my own life. </div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOfgSb0SX4tENdEMUL13SGx5iLDBBYkctYpf6vkUQD6Z7BiCYlpjl1zl_QHO2-0zE8o3ybW7StnFGq4fgPTE54vadjFssLCiHDCXJW_Ps5qZ5-usdEfAwEMb1ji0H3faNmzohcvQfQWz4/s1600/Kintsugi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOfgSb0SX4tENdEMUL13SGx5iLDBBYkctYpf6vkUQD6Z7BiCYlpjl1zl_QHO2-0zE8o3ybW7StnFGq4fgPTE54vadjFssLCiHDCXJW_Ps5qZ5-usdEfAwEMb1ji0H3faNmzohcvQfQWz4/s1600/Kintsugi.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Life isn't always pretty, in fact it can be downright ugly.
Even in the realm of Christian community. We see ugliness, hurt, death, disease
and broken families. When will we be able to pour the oil and anoint the heads
of those the walking wounded? When will we see past our politics and
differences and come together for the sake of Christ and for community?</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
When will we be able to live in the light of Eucharist
Theology – knowing that our hearts, like the bread, are broken. When will we pour
out ourselves like the wine? Oh Lord, break my chalice, my jar of clay – and
allow the wine to flow out and touch all it comes into contact with.</div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzTiHboenFQ2NgBdl7w0q4cgtxijtR44sfjAJ9ifPgtkTWL31QNiMWHs1ylCGASFe3AsbwydEZg7PJRSpsl04ItGCnqf7bcYjcG8Nx2ieaNBSobxUyaU9FxjOcVXo4Vv441MKMV7bvKqw/s1600/Kintsugi+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzTiHboenFQ2NgBdl7w0q4cgtxijtR44sfjAJ9ifPgtkTWL31QNiMWHs1ylCGASFe3AsbwydEZg7PJRSpsl04ItGCnqf7bcYjcG8Nx2ieaNBSobxUyaU9FxjOcVXo4Vv441MKMV7bvKqw/s1600/Kintsugi+2.jpg" height="165" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then heal the broken vessel in the manner of Kintsugi – the
Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust, thereby making
a perfectly imperfect piece of beauty. Yes…broken, yet healed and beautiful in
the eyes of God. The repaired vessels are indeed more beautiful, more
compassionate and also stronger than before they were broken.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I long to be healed of my infirmities, but to claim with
boldness the quote from Sara Miles' book <b><i><span style="color: #999999;">Jesus Freak: Feeding Healing Raising the
Dead</span></i></b> which reads, <i><b><span style="color: #999999;">“Prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship
with God…and through relationship there can be healing in the absence of
cure.” </span></b></i></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I want to know that my life has mattered, that for the sake
of Christ it will count. That this new stage of life I am entering…no
embracing…will count for the sake of eternity.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I need to garner strength for the coming battle and find my
inner warrior. Somehow in my mind’s eye I see a woman warrior not unlike St.
Joan of Arc. Depending upon what happens on Thursday; I will need the strength
of a woman warrior to battle against cancer. I may need to remind myself more
than once that instead of asking “How much time do I have left?” the better
question may very well be, “What options do I have?” With this being said, I may be quiet for awhile for healing. I would appreciate your prayers.</div>
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
“And who knows but that you have come to the kingdom for
such a time as this and for this very occasion?” Esther 4:14 <b><i><span style="color: #999999;">Yes…for such a time as this.</span></i></b></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
There was a wonderful program on PBS Sunday evening -
Winning By Living: One Cancer Story. 60 Minutes shared a hopeful story about
how polio could possibly be the cure for cancer. Yes hope…and light in the face
of the dark night of the soul.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i><span style="color: #999999;">And so I pray: God my Father, Christ my Lord, Holy Spirit creative force of
the universe – hear my prayer: Draw me closer to You. Heal my infirmity, if not
a cure then make it count. </span></i></b></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><i><span style="color: #999999;">Even so, Amen.</span></i></b></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-42551676669197176562015-03-21T08:59:00.000-07:002015-03-21T08:59:05.435-07:00Vocabulary Words<h3>
Nodule…<br /><o:p><br /></o:p>Mass…<br /><o:p><br /></o:p>Adenocarcinoma…<br /><o:p><br /></o:p>Cancer...</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
New vocabulary words. <span style="text-transform: uppercase;"><b>spoken.to.me.</b></span>
…by three different physicians. And icy hands grasp my heart and squeeze until
I feel like I can no longer breathe. <b>BREATHE.BREATHE. </b>Take a breath…and don’t
forget to exhale. <span style="text-transform: uppercase;">Slowly</span>. Wrap
your head around this diagnosis…and your heart, don’t forget to include your
heart…don’t forget to use your brain, your logic, your reason.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And don’t forget…it’s not just about you. YES it is just
about me. What about husband? And daughter? And son? And mother? And brothers?
And my job? AND…AND…AND…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How long does one sit on one’s Pity Pot before the call to
action comes? How long do we wallow in self pity and muck and mire? Is the call
to “fear not” different from the commercialized slogan of “no fear”? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
Matthew 14:22-33</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
Then Jesus made the disciples get into
the boat and go on ahead to the other side of the lake, while he sent the
people away. After sending the people away, he went up a hill by himself
to pray. When evening came, Jesus was there alone; and by this time the
boat was far out in the lake, tossed about by the waves, because the wind was
blowing against it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
Between three and six o'clock in the
morning Jesus came to the disciples, walking on the water. When they saw him
walking on the water, they were terrified. “It's a ghost!” they said, and
screamed with fear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
Jesus spoke to them at once. “Courage!”
he said. “It is <st1:place w:st="on">I.</st1:place> Don't be afraid!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
Then Peter spoke up. “Lord, if it is
really you, order me to come out on the water to you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Come!” answered Jesus. So Peter got
out of the boat and started walking on the water to Jesus. But when he
noticed the strong wind, he was afraid and started to sink down in the water.
“Save me, Lord!” he cried.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
At once Jesus reached out and grabbed
hold of him and said, “What little faith you have! Why did you doubt?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
They both got into the boat, and the
wind died down. Then the disciples in the boat worshiped Jesus. “Truly you
are the Son of God!” they exclaimed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lord, Lord? I lift my hand to you, pull me from the muck and
mire so that I, too, may claim “Truly you are the Son of God!” But… but… what
happens in the absence of a cure? Does that mean you are not the Son of God? Or
I am somehow not worthy of healing? Do I not have enough faith?</div>
<h4>
<br /></h4>
<h4>
Author Sara Miles wrote, “Prayer is one of the deepest forms
of relationship with God…and through relationship there can be healing in the
absence of cure.”</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The saga has begun. Surgery is scheduled for April 2<sup>nd</sup>.
This Tuesday I will be having a pulmonary function test. Wednesday it is a PET
scan. A positron emission tomography (PET) scan is an imaging test
that allows doctors to check for disease in your body. The scan uses
radioactive tracers in a special dye. These tracers are injected into a vein in
your arm and are then absorbed by your organs and tissues.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continue to learn. Learn about things in which I once held
no interest. Learning is good. Learning is active participation.</div>
<h4>
<br /></h4>
<h4>
Here is the most important thing I’ve learned thus far: Have
a good network of persons who will be your prayer warriors. And I do.</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There have been occasions when I have been one of many who
had prayed for persons and they have said, "I could literally 'feel' your
prayers." I thought that was 'hooey', but just this morning I was overcome
with such a sense of calm & peace... I know, that I know, that I know -
this is the power of prayer! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can say with confidence, I am not afraid. That does not
mean that at some point I will not waver when entering that tube for the PET
scan, or laying on a surgical table find that my heart is pounding faster. What
I know is this - God's got this and I am asking God to “make it count.” Indeed,
Abba, Father, “make it count.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From this point forward, my posts maybe fewer. Since the end
of January, I’ve had 14 medical/testing appointments. I share this not to gain your pity or sympathy, but as you think of me,
please pray. Pray for God’s will. Pray that this entire event will have counted
in the scope of eternity. Pray that I am able to Praise God through the
storm…in spite of the storm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will leave you with a question: How just and righteous
would God be if he only allowed “bad things” to happen to unbelievers? Perhaps
he allows bad things to happen to believers so that others may see a bit of His
glory. I certainly did with my friend “B”. In the absence of healing, I pray to
be a vessel like she was. I pray my vessel, my pot of clay is
cracked…fractured, so that all the contents may overflow, be spilled out and
brush glimpses of glory to those who come into contact with it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Even so, Amen.</div>
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Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-1919423204849635262015-03-14T10:02:00.001-07:002015-03-14T10:02:23.192-07:00...and so it goes!<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">The angiogram was
clear! There were no coronary blockages and thus, no stents were placed, in
spite of what of what the CT scan showed and the awful results of the cardio
stress test. God is good and I believe in the power of prayer and miracles! I
remained off work for the week. The angiogram was done through my wrist. It was
quite tender and swollen. Limited use precluded typing or lifting anything over
five pounds. Forgetting and trying to turn a doorknob was awful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Day two after the
procedure I developed a fever and a rash. The fever is due to a localized
“crud” that’s been traveling around. It involves upper respiratory symptoms and
lots of coughing and sneezing. The rash was due to the surgical tape that was
used. I’d forgotten I have that issue. A teensy bit of “itch” cream applied
very sparingly is very beneficial.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The Hubs has been
very good at care giving. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry – what a guy! But
then, he’s been doing that since his retirement. I must admit that during the
dating years I watched the way he treated his mother, grandmother and sisters
prior to committing to any kind of a relationship. I knew from observation,
that my name was “safe” in his mouth and that in the event of a catastrophic illness
I could trust him to be my caregiver. He meant the “in sickness and in health”
pledge. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Since Monday’s
angiogram turned out so well INSPITE of what the CT scan showed and the awful
results of the cardio stress test, I am hoping for similar results with the
nodule in my lung. Who am I to argue that this was: a) a bad CT test or b) (<i>and
I am soooo leaning towards b</i>) this was the result of prayers and healing!</div>
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<br /></div>
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In the event the
results do not turn out that way, then it is my prayer that the Lord God will
“make it count” and that I will be able to face what comes with grace, dignity
and trust.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Years ago, the
Hubs and I purchased a prearranged funeral plan. Yeah, yeah… morose, isn’t it<i>. Or not.</i> It’s been paid off for years
now and after moving to <st1:city w:st="on">Tucson</st1:city>
we needed to find a mortuary service that honored the plan we had. Not a
problem! We met with counselors and discussed the plan and what was provided.
We not doing fancy funeral finery, we determined cremation was more in line
with our belief system and for the care of the earth. The place we settled upon
stated, “you know, by purchasing this when you did, you saved $1500 each.” Good
to know, but more importantly, our children will not have to make decisions
while going through the grieving process. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The church were we
attend has a Memorial Rose Garden. There is a lovely wall where the deceased’s
info is placed and the ashes are interred in the rose garden. It is a lovely,
peaceful spot. That is where I wish to be. There are benches, <st1:state w:st="on">Arizona</st1:state> beauty and a sense of peace that
permeate this space.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now… back to the
matter at hand. If you are so inclined, please pray that when I meet <span style="background: white; color: #141823;">with Dr. Kim, the cardiothoracic surgeon
on Tuesday that I will have clarity and the ability to communicate. I want this
"thing" removed and the sooner, the better. This will be our first
meeting and we will hopefully be discussing options for the nodule in my lung.
Biopsy, excision, etc. Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #141823;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #141823;">No matter the outcome of this next
process, it is my desire that I am able to face it with grace, dignity and
trust. I want God to make this count!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #141823;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="background: white; color: #141823;">Simply yours,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823;"><br /></span><span style="background: white; color: #141823;"></span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: 'Pea Cynthia'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Tamara</span></div>
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Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-31285331284799743622015-03-02T08:32:00.001-07:002015-04-24T11:59:37.618-07:00Broken Hallelujahs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkwXJE-FEJezHrfsr4GCrJAvUIuLMOed2GPMcJH-RpkuWY5LxmRrOX6i8iLSndUg6wVK0J8oJuCmY4ZpSfTaow7tyPob6R1yP8NMJoCwWh5jeci_2G_CV-oAtOJpxBTUiCgCXkx7f6-i1/s1600/Elizabeth+Kubler+Ross.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkwXJE-FEJezHrfsr4GCrJAvUIuLMOed2GPMcJH-RpkuWY5LxmRrOX6i8iLSndUg6wVK0J8oJuCmY4ZpSfTaow7tyPob6R1yP8NMJoCwWh5jeci_2G_CV-oAtOJpxBTUiCgCXkx7f6-i1/s1600/Elizabeth+Kubler+Ross.PNG" height="106" width="400" /></a></div>
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More often than not, I am on the verge of tears these days. They are
the tears of compassion. Compassion for others, for humanity, for man’s inhumanity,
for the world’s state of crisis.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Twenty-one
Egyptian Coptic Christians beheaded by <st1:place w:st="on">ISIS</st1:place> –
in the year 2015, how can this happen? Where is the world outcry?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I find that when journaling my devotional thoughts I am also
doodling. They are weeds. </div>
Specifically dandelions that have gone to fluff. We
do not have dandelions in the Southwest the way we had them in the <st1:place w:st="on">Midwest</st1:place>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlYjUfgcJIwcNngdOiEnolR7W57G3InXBF4JgG9E4JKXb-sD-zS7qi1KijQy7FMi4RGicXJIWQdzrPtS8HgS4EBWjDPSmM-cZjUAPsQkfgQAh4-fuAEIiXn5F-QAjy7XwHkWnpXX7HamG/s1600/weeds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlYjUfgcJIwcNngdOiEnolR7W57G3InXBF4JgG9E4JKXb-sD-zS7qi1KijQy7FMi4RGicXJIWQdzrPtS8HgS4EBWjDPSmM-cZjUAPsQkfgQAh4-fuAEIiXn5F-QAjy7XwHkWnpXX7HamG/s1600/weeds.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></div>
When my children were young, we would pluck the yellow
dandelions and hold them under each other’s chin to see if it reflected. If it
did, it meant we liked butter. <i>I still
like butter! </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Later, when they turned to fluff, we pulled the heads off – a
symbolic beheading – and would blow them into the wind with a wish. One head,
thousand of seeds sent to germinate. </div>
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<i>Will
the martyred Coptic Christian heads symbolically germinate? Deeply within our
hearts? Will the seeds of revival take root?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we lived on the farm, I gardened. We grew beans,
tomatoes, corn, bell peppers. I had herb gardens that grew lovely chamomile,
sage, parsley, and thyme. The flower beds were a delight and I miss the
peonies, even with all the ants they attracted. <span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our son was nine and came into the kitchen to show me his
latest find. It was a snake. A garter snake. I screamed, I ranted, I raved
until he took it outside. He returned with a rather smug attitude knowing he
had bested me.</div>
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Then, in all his nine-year-old wisdom, he started talking to
me about the garden. He told me there were weeds popping up and I needed to
take care of them. “Weeds,” he said, “are like sin. You need to care for them
when they are small, before they take root.”</div>
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<i>Who was this small child telling me about sin? Why was it hitting my
heart dead on? Where had he learned this?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
As I recall this I think how now as an adult he denies there
is a God. <i>How can this be, I wonder…</i>
Again I find myself at the foot of the cross praying for him by name. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mind wanders and I think of those who had a hand in the
beheading of the Egyptian Coptic Christians. They were once infants, suckling
at their mothers’ breast, the beloved sons… who grew to be terrorists. <i>How can this be, I wonder</i>…</div>
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God! God, how am I to pray? <b><sup><span style="background: white;">“</span></sup></b><i><span style="background: white;">But I say to you, Love your enemies and
pray for those who persecute you</span></i><span style="background: white;">,” (Matthew 5:44). Really? Lord? You want me to pray for the
terrorists, not just for the situation, or for those whose lives have been cut
short at the hand of the terrorists? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">“You
have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span></i></span><span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">and
hate your enemy.’</span></i></span><span class="textmatt-5-44"></span><b><i><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span id="en-NKJV-23279" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span></span></span></sup></i></b><span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse
you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you
and persecute you,</span></i></span><span class="textmatt-5-45"><b><i><sup data-fn="#fen-NKJV-23279h" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NKJV-23279h" title="See footnote h">h</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span></sup></i></b></span><span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes
His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the
unjust.</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"></span><i><span style="background: white;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span id="en-NKJV-23281" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do
not even the tax collectors do the same?</span></span></span></i><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"></span><i><span style="background: white;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span id="en-NKJV-23282" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">And if you greet your brethren</span></span></span></i><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">only,
what do you do more</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white;">than others?</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">Do
not even the tax collectors</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"><i><span style="background: white;">do
so?</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background: white;"> </span></i></span><span class="woj"></span><i><span style="background: white;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span id="en-NKJV-23283" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven
is perfect.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="woj"><span style="background: white;">That’s
a very tall order, Lord! Indeed. A very tall order. Is this a step towards
sanctification? Is it a test? Lately I wonder about all sorts of things. </span></span><i><span style="background: white;">In
the background Matt Redman’s 10,000 Reasons plays…</span></i><span style="background: white;"> Bless the Lord, O my soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823;">I was
blessed in the past two days to have shared three communions. Not that I seek
Holy Communion as a means of holiness, but that it is my act of remembrance, my
act of acknowledging the resurrection and the hope we have. This was an Emmaus
Walk weekend and I participated in two open services that offered the broken
bread and the cup. Sunday we were asked to assist with passing out the elements
during our church services. I am always, always humbled to serve in this
capacity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 9.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 3pt 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #141823;">I believe our lives should be lived as Eucharist
Theology. Our hearts, like the bread are made to be broken and yet loved in all
that brokenness. We should live our lives as the spilled wine, allowing
ourselves and our lives to overflow, spill out and come into contact with those
who desperately are thirsting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white;">Yes… brokenness… it is the
Lenten season and I am filled with broken hallelujahs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<span style="background: white;">Even so. Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-91338775126892112002015-02-24T21:32:00.001-07:002015-02-25T06:59:53.910-07:00Make It Count, Dear Lord, Make It Count<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been quiet for awhile. For the past month I’ve been reflective,
pensive... Just lost in thought. During this time, I had a dream. It was an odd
dream. I don’t place much stock in dreams or their interpretations, unless I’m
reading the Old Testament and the accounts of Joseph. Now he had a gift for
being able to discern the meaning of a dream and that was a true gift from God.
</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
As a rule, I don’t remember my
dreams. I’ve had a few reoccurring dreams and they stay with me. The most
recent I’ve dreamed is a variation of one from some time before. In the dream,
I’m looking skyward, watching a blimp (but I’m sure in the dream it was a <b><i>dirigible</i></b>).
</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">Rigid</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">airships</span></i></b></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">(like the Hindenburg), semi-rigid</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">airships</span></i></b></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">(like the Zeppelin NT), and <b>blimps</b></span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">(like the Goodyear</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">blimp</span></i></b></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">) are all</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">dirigibles</span></i></b></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">. A <b>blimp</b></span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';"> </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">(technically a “pressure airship”) is
a powered, steerable, lighter-than-air vehicle whose shape is maintained by the
pressure of the gases within its envelope. </span></i></span><span class="tgc"><i><span style="font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">From </span></i></span><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: 'Arial Narrow';">www.</span><b>airships</b>.net/<b>dirigible.</b></i><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial Narrow"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m watching this dirigible floating in the sky when
suddenly it loses control. It acts like a balloon full of air that you release
from your hand and it begins to zig and zag back and forth across the sky. My
breathing quickens and I’m sure I am watching the demise of the airship and all
aboard when it plummets toward the earth and makes a rough, but safe landing on
the ground. I am running towards the ship and awaken, gasping for air and
remembering the vivid details of the dream and wondering why I had this
particular dream.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Half the day passes when it finally occurs to me that the
symbolism of the dream and recent events in my life are simply telling me that
I am not in control. There maybe occurrences when all about me everything seems
to be falling apart, there maybe some rough landings, but after it is all said and
done, things may return to a semblance of normal. But once you’ve been through
a “near miss” things may never be the same again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
On
Tuesday, the 17<sup>th</sup>, I had a “stress test”. It didn’t go well and they
wouldn’t release me until they got a cardiologist in to read the results. On
Wednesday, my primary physician called to stay I needed to see a cardiologist
sooner than later. With her help I was able to get in to see a cardiologist on
Friday.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
After
meeting with the cardiologist, he explained I have atherosclerosis and an arrhythmia with<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>atherosclerotic calcifications
scattered in the aorta. I am now scheduled for a heart catheterization on
March 9<sup>th</sup>. Depending on the outcome of that will determine if a PET
scan will be required. Basically, this is cardio vascular disease and
possibly an electrical issue with my heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial;">Of more concern, the cardiologist pointed out, is a nodule on my left
lung that has increased in size over the past year – from 14 mm to 18 mm. Preliminary
reports show this to be </span>adenocarcinoma,
at least a minimally invasive subtype. Yes…lung cancer. The cardiologist can do
nothing for the nodule.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
I saw my
primary care physician again on Monday to discuss further treatments and
testing as it relates to this aspect of my health care. The doctor
explained the different ways to biopsy the node. There are needle biopsies that
may or may not get enough of the tissue to make an accurate diagnosis. If that
is the case, then they must surgically excise some of the tissue and that means
cutting into the body. As we discussed these options, I told her I wanted it
out, to have it removed from my body. She agreed with this decision. After it is
removed they can test, examine and determine what further course of action is
required. She referred me to a specialist who she said is excellent and has a
good bedside manner. I have an appointment with him at the Arizona Cancer
Clinic on March 17<sup>th</sup> to remove the nodule. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial;">I am a former smoker. I cannot be angry about this as I was
a willing participant, even though the warnings were abundant as well as
previous family medical history. I was aware even when I quit smoking that it
was no guarantee that I would never have any effects from the consequences of
smoking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7MYN98a4wSTtb3p9xVhf5aa2kRFEIza8kKUhGJOmf0YKsdyJaH8trrX4Giody4ADcshHhiUTO1Ij-w6U5i_1Kru_RokFRLKdd8fb3ozydEJHDfAXH3KGSyydBlzuvtzK1pX_LajcmcrU/s1600/One+Little+Word.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7MYN98a4wSTtb3p9xVhf5aa2kRFEIza8kKUhGJOmf0YKsdyJaH8trrX4Giody4ADcshHhiUTO1Ij-w6U5i_1Kru_RokFRLKdd8fb3ozydEJHDfAXH3KGSyydBlzuvtzK1pX_LajcmcrU/s1600/One+Little+Word.jpg" height="320" width="203" /></a>And so it
goes… another bump in the road. Another dirigible losing control and careening
across the sky. One thing I know for sure, none of this, not one iota is
outside the will of God. My prayer? God, make it count! Please see this post <a href="http://bronlea.com/2013/08/06/one-little-word-that-radically-changed-my-prayers/">bronlea.com</a> for a wonderful post on prayer.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background: white;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #141823;">Romans 8: 37-39 </span><span style="color: #141823;">But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through
Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels,
nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor
height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-74985639635401157842015-02-02T08:01:00.001-07:002015-02-06T20:16:21.068-07:00Writing Down the Memories<div class="MsoNormal">
<s>Years ago</s>, scratch that… perhaps I should begin this by
writing…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="color: #666666;">A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…</span></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wouldn't be original, but the memories are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was Christmas 1975. A single mom working a minimum wage
nursing assistant job and volunteering for any extra bit of overtime or holiday
pay. Even if it meant spending the day apart from daughter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Daughter was spending the holiday with other family members.
I worked day shift at the nursing home that Christmas Day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .6in; margin-right: .6in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="color: #666666;">Those days, those months, those years all seem to
run all together? The poverty years I call them.</span></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, we lived beneath the poverty level. That contrite income
indicator the government decided would represent our life. The government also
provided us with “helps” such as subsidized housing, food stamps and medical
& dental care. I worked full time and still qualified for assistance. I was
grateful for the help, exceedingly, abundantly grateful. I remain grateful
still for the assistance during that period of time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the Charles Dickens years. You know, the opening phrase
from <b><i>A Tale of Two Cities</i></b>… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .6in; margin-right: .6in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="color: #666666;">"It was the best
of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age
of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it
was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope,
it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing
before us…”</span></span></i></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day at the nursing home was like any other day, except
this was Christmas Day and the case load was larger than normal, since so many
were off this day. Many of the patients were expecting family to visit. The
usual course of action meant that the person was awakened, assisted to the
bathroom, helped to clean up and get dressed then breakfast was served. Some
would eat in their room while others assembled in the solarium. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The excitement was palpable. Some of the patients received
visits shortly after breakfast and others anticipated their visit later in the
day. So it was with the one gentleman I was assisting that day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was usually quiet, stoic but this day his excitement
overflowed. His family was coming to visit! He hadn't seen them for some time.
I assisted him with freshening up, bathroom time, teeth brushing – all the
sundry things that go into our every day preparation, that now require
assistance for the aged. He had mentally picked out what he would wear this day
and I assisted him with dressing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because he was unsure of the time the family would arrive,
he ate his dinner in his room. I placed the call button within his reach, set
his tray up and told him to ring if he needed anything. When lunch was over I
removed his tray and provided him with a warm washcloth to clean up a bit. Then
checked to make sure his call button was still accessible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An hour later he rang. With tears in his eyes he said, “I
guess they aren’t coming. I might as well take a nap.” I sat on his bedside and
held his hand. I explained to him that I too had a child and was not with her
this day. We shared tears. I helped him remove some clothing and got him
into bed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Within 30-minutes he rang again. I responded to his room
where his family surrounded him. I asked if they would wait in the hallway
while I got him up and into his chair. While getting him up, he was as excited
as any child on Christmas Day. “They came,” he said, “my family came!” As I
exited his room, his family entered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An hour later my shift ended and I went back to my
government subsidized apartment to await my daughter’s return.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I worked again the next day. The gentleman from the day
before was not on my schedule for this day. After the morning rush was over, I
stopped in to see him. I wanted to know how the visit went. He was still
glowing. We sat and talked for a bit and he grabbed my hand to hold it in his. “Thank
you,” he said, “thank you for being here for me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The moral of this memory is about the hope his family gave
to him on that Christmas Day 40 years ago. As hard and as difficult as it was
for his son and his family to travel to the rest home on Christmas Day, it more
than likely was the greatest gift this older gentleman had received in his
life.</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding-right: 10px;">Matthew 25:40 </span><span class="passage-display-version" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline;">(NKJV) <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px;"><b> </b></span></span></span><span class="text Matt-25-40" id="en-NKJV-24049" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">it </i>to one of the least of these My brethren, you did <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">it</i> to Me.’</span></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-36403018188664278292015-01-21T02:00:00.000-07:002015-01-21T02:00:06.128-07:00Getting Things Straight<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The old Women’s Devotional Journal had not been completely
filled. I began to use it mid December as I had completed the other with
devotional notes and jots and doodles. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I began to glance back through the years
of unfinished notes. Some of the journal pages are from 2005, others are dated
2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013 until I again picked it up to complete my 2014
Devotional notations. Good intentions…left undone. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some of the entries are filled with the wonder of a new
journal that begs to be stained with ink and the wonder of simple study and
devotion. Other entries are the angst of a wayward family member. Others
surround the shock of a heart attack and subsequent lifestyle change. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I also documented the decision to leave one church and
return to my Methodist roots. That was a difficult transition of sorts,
especially for my Hubs. It’s just that you know, that you know, that you know
when a door has been closed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some of the notations are from sermons. Please don’t
misunderstand what I’m saying, but by taking notes during the sermon, I am more
apt to “pay attention” than to let my mind wander randomly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I began to read sermon notes from 2009. The sermon was
titled "Getting Things Straight."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The bible gives us three accounts of this act in Matthew,
Mark and Luke. It is about the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">Twelve years…can you imagine? So many doctors…so many treatments, only to have
the condition worsen.</span></i> </span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In that climate, in that environment, a woman who was
bleeding could not go to the temple to worship as she was considered “unclean.”
</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Picture it…this woman ostracized by her own people, possibly bent over with disability and pain. A handicap in biblical times was equated to being “less than perfect.” She was outcast, made to stand in the back. Possibly even her own family didn’t want to be around her. Truly, this was a social disease as she was made socially unacceptable.</span></i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yet she heard the Messiah was in town and was filled with
hope, with anticipation. With all the persons clamoring around him, she made
her way to him and as the King James Version reads, she, who had an “issue of
blood,” touched the hem of his garment. She was immediately healed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jesus felt the “power” leave him. He turned and said, “Who
touched me?” The disciples were incredulous and said, “Look at all this crowd,
who can tell who touched you?” Yet this woman heard him, she fell at his feet
and confessed that it was she who had touched his garment and pleaded for
forgiveness. In my mind’s eye, he possibly knelt towards her, took her by the
hand and said, <span style="background: white;">“Daughter, your faith has healed
you.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> Go in peace</span> and be freed from your suffering<span class="apple-converted-space">.” (<i><span style="color: #666666;">Tamara’s paraphrase</span></i>)</span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><i>Getting Things Straight, indeed! She could now stand with her head held high;
she could worship freely and no longer be relegated to the back. </i></span></span></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So…what’s your issue? What’s keeping you from fully and freely worshiping?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "kevinandamanda\.com"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Wishing
you grace, every single day,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "kevinandamanda\.com"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tamara<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-14302035417459409682015-01-14T08:46:00.000-07:002015-01-14T08:46:07.751-07:00The Path of Grace<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Words have been few.
Writing has been sparse. Emotions are raw. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The path of grace is never
straight...it is convoluted with twists and turns, joys and sorrows and of
late, a piercing quietness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My devotional read, <span style="background: white;">"<i>Heaven knows no difference between Sunday
morning and Wednesday afternoon. God longs to speak as clearly in the workplace
as He does in the sanctuary. He longs to be worshiped when we sit at the dinner
table and not just when we come to the communion table.</i>" ~from The Great
House of God, by Max Lucado.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes… yes…
the Holy Spirit speaks through the words of others, pierces my heart. May it
ever be tender and pliant to Your touch, to Your leading. Bless me with the
gift of discernment, if only for a brief time, that I may know, truly know
where you are leading.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="background: white;">St. John</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="background: white;"> of the Cross wrote extensively
about “the dark night of the soul.” He said, <span style="color: #181818;">“<i>If a
man wishes to be sure of the road he’s traveling on, then he must close his eyes
and travel in the dark.</i>”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #181818;">He also said, </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #181818;">“<i>God has to work in
the soul in secret and in darkness because if we fully knew what was happening,
and what Mystery, transformation, God and Grace will eventually ask of us, we
would either try to take charge or stop the whole process.</i>”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">…try to take charge or
stop the whole process. Indeed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 12pt;">David wrote in Psalm 13:
1-3</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 12pt;"> </span><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?<br /> How long will you hide your face from me?<br />How long must I wrestle with my thoughts<br /> and day after day have sorrow in my heart?<br /> How long will my enemy triumph over me?<br />Look on me and answer, Lord my God.<br /> Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<div class="line" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 12.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="textps-13-3"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="line" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 12.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-56573607179729967522015-01-07T01:00:00.000-07:002015-01-07T01:00:08.544-07:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81KgtHmR4aqw1UrW0Awzx-fQRdK9mS7AMTYv0y79uzzEbZspnRg5Mvpq-K9yttluF9l9lujl_9zbAoDgfvk8mRVXYkFPB6TYrY95Z-ba1eis3FuttUxgK26WtaEVCpGgw40wZBBAIF5cf/s1600/1+Sam+16.7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81KgtHmR4aqw1UrW0Awzx-fQRdK9mS7AMTYv0y79uzzEbZspnRg5Mvpq-K9yttluF9l9lujl_9zbAoDgfvk8mRVXYkFPB6TYrY95Z-ba1eis3FuttUxgK26WtaEVCpGgw40wZBBAIF5cf/s1600/1+Sam+16.7.JPG" height="400" width="277" /></a></div>
<br />Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-89235012581021954682015-01-02T20:41:00.001-07:002015-01-02T20:53:21.532-07:00The VisitationThey arrived just before we closed the office. They were a young couple. They entered the church office and asked if we took donations for the food bank. "Indeed, we do!" I replied. "We have a couple of boxes of food and some cash we'd like to donate," she said. "And I'd be happy to oblige you," I said.<br />
<br />
Her husband went out to get the boxes of food from the car and she removed bills from her pocket and started counting, "One hundred, two hundred, three hundred..." and on she went. I held up my hand to stop her, to direct her into our contributions secretary's work space actually. "We'll let Ms Della help you," I said, "and she can provide you with a donation statement for tax purposes."<br />
<br />
Her husband had returned with one of the two boxes of donated, non perishable food items and went for the other. He shortly returned with the second and I commented, "Great taste! I'm happy to see whole wheat pasta! That will surely bless some family." He smiled warmly and his wife walked back into the front office.<br />
<br />
As quietly as they arrived, they departed. When it was all said and done, they had donated wonderful, newly purchased non perishable food items and given over one thousand dollars for the food bank.<br />
<br />
Ms Della and I were certain we had entertained angels unaware! We affectionately called them <i>Mary and Joseph</i>!<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Hebrews 13:2 <span class="versenum" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">Do not neglect to </span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NASB-30244B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NASB-30244B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have </span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NASB-30244C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NASB-30244C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">entertained angels without knowing it.</span></b></i></span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">What this young couple had done served as a reminder to me. That reminder is to give extravagantly! To give out of your "first fruits".</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">I can speak of the "first fruits" from experience. While we were working to raise our support to become missionaries, well meaning folks from our home church would bring us "care packages" of food. They meant well, but these items were brought out of their pantries and were virtually the left-overs as evidenced by the mealy bugs in the packages of dried goods. I don't mean to be cruel. I am being honest. Since we had farm animals, those items unsuitable for human consumption were fed to the chickens and hogs, which in turn then fed us.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">From these lessons I learned well. <i>Mary and Joseph's</i> example reinforced that lesson.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">Wherever they are this night, whatever it was in their lives that compelled them to give so extravagantly, may our God and Father bless them, and bless them indeed!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">Wishing you everyday grace, every single day!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">Tamara</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/Tamara_Swerline">https://twitter.com/Tamara_Swerline</a></span></i></span>Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-8798130795584244152015-01-01T09:46:00.003-07:002015-01-01T09:46:38.915-07:00UNDER CONSTRUCTIONIt's a new year...<br />
<br />
It's a new day...<br />
<br />
...and time for a new look!Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-18858367004787806142014-12-21T16:49:00.003-07:002014-12-21T16:49:56.979-07:00'Tis the Season<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s the holiday season! Are you ready for it? Ready or not,
we cannot stop time in its tracks. Are you frazzled and trying to fit too many
experiences into your holiday? Extending credit to purchase more things for
those you love (and even for some you do not)? How many unmet expectations are
filling you with dread and resentment? Really… how many items are on your To-Do
List? Too many?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a moment stop and think about your Christmas Past, yes
Mr. Dickens, those ghosts of Christmas Past. Of all your Christmas memories,
what one thing comes to the forefront? Is it even a thing? Or is it more of a
feeling? This will probably be different for each one of us, won’t it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks back, our church held an evening “Blue Christmas
Service”. It was specifically designed for those who may be hurting or
depressed during the holiday season. The holidays are not always pleasant and
are downright painful for some. Especially if a family member is ill or has
passed on during the course of the year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It can be difficult to observe others who are making “merry
and bright” when your spirit is crushed. It is a difficult time for those who
are incarcerated. They are missing their families and children. Then there are
those who are missing their imprisoned family members. Generally speaking, if
it is the spouse or a parent who is in prison, then there has usually been some
economic set back for those on the “outside”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is the Christ Child we are to honor. Not each other. I
recently read one person’s discourse on Christmas gifting for the immediate
family: One gift they want, one gift they need, an article of clothing and a
book to read. Simply speaking, this is four gifts and not a myriad of them; not
incurred debt. How often do we operate out of guilt and "have to" rather than love? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I find it difficult to understand the person who disavows
religion or church and yet will do “the Christmas” thing. Perhaps it is the "X-mas" thing. Speaking for me,
there is a vast difference between religion and being spiritual; between
religion and relationship. Am I religious? No. But I have a deep, spiritual
longing and from that I desire to study and be a better person in my neighborhood and
world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a most thoughtful manner, I attempted to simplify our
lives and material possessions over two years ago. Some days I do this well.
Other days I do not. Like all of life, it is a process and a progression. Want more ideas for a more simple life? Visit this site:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.becomingminimalist.com/the-10-most-important-things-to-simplify-in-your-life/">www.becomingminimalist.com/the-10-most-important-things-to-simplify-in-your-life/</a>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have a potted <st1:place w:st="on">Norfolk</st1:place>
pine as our symbol of the Christmas Tree this year. Red bows and small bulbs
adorn the tree as well as battery operated led lights. If all goes well, we will have the tree again
next year… and the year after that… and so on. Our ceilings are low, so I
didn’t want to put up the artificial tree and I don’t want a presumed “live”
tree that is cut, dies and will become landfill somewhere. In addition to the <st1:city w:st="on">Norfolk</st1:city> pine, we also set
up a Menorah with candles. Our Savior was a Jew and He is the light of the
world. Admittedly, Hubs did some outside decorating with lights and garland.
After the season we will attempt to find a Nativity / Manger to add to the
collection.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gifts for the Hubs and I? Truly, we have all we need and
wants – well, they change daily! We have learned the art of discerning between
our wants and needs. Simply stated, that has helped us to par down possessions.
Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, we enjoy the tastes and
scents of the season. Christmas cookies, holiday baked goods, turkey, ham,
cranberry relish… yes, the list goes on and on. Here in the SW, tamales are a Christmas staple. Oh, they're good other times as well, but it is a traditional Christmas gift to neighbors, here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We send gift cards to Grands, tamales from Tucson Tamale
Company to others. If we were closer to family, the best gift would be that of
spending time with them. We have not seen the Arizona Grands since August and
were able to visit with the Ohio Grands in October. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recall one year when celebrating a Grand’s birthday, the
mother informed us if we were to get anything for the child, we must also get
something for the other, older child. She stated it wasn’t “fair” to the other
child not to get something, too. That child is in for a rude awakening, for
life isn’t fair, is it? I believe that is a part of the problem in our society
today. We are unable to honor or celebrate others and believe what they have
should be ours, but then I digress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our church has a Christmas Eve Service and a noon dinner as
well as a Christmas Day service followed by a Christmas Brunch. Having no
defined plans this year, we signed up to participate and provide food items. Generally
speaking, we have persons in the neighborhood who will find their way to these
services and meals. We are happy to serve them. Amazingly, there always seems
to be enough food to share!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What holiday traditions do you employ? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you serve any special food for the season? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is your favorite Christmas carol? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I end with the words of a hymn. The
haunting minor chord of Advent – “O Come, O Come Emmanuel…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
O come, O come,
Emmanuel<br />
And ransom captive <st1:place w:st="on">Israel</st1:place><br />
That mourns in lonely exile here<br />
Until the Son of God appear<br />
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel<br />
Shall come to thee, O Israel.<br />
<br />
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free<br />
Thine own from Satan's tyranny<br />
From depths of Hell Thy people save<br />
And give them victory o'er the grave<br />
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel<br />
Shall come to thee, O Israel.<br />
<br />
O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer<br />
Our spirits by Thine advent here<br />
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night<br />
And death's dark shadows put to flight.<br />
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel<br />
Shall come to thee, O Israel.<br />
<br />
O come, Thou Key of David, come,<br />
And open wide our heavenly home;<br />
Make safe the way that leads on high,<br />
And close the path to misery.<br />
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel<br />
Shall come to thee, O Israel.<br />
<br />
O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,<br />
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,<br />
In ancient times did'st give the Law,<br />
In cloud, and majesty and awe.<br />
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel<br />
Shall come to thee, O Israel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Wishing you Christmas blessings. May your day be merry and bright.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Tamara</div>
</div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-49425121016673673722014-11-29T09:53:00.003-07:002014-11-29T16:20:13.875-07:00So Thankful, So Reflective<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It’s been a minute or so
since I’ve done a post. I didn’t even do a Thanksgiving post this year – Alas!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It has been just the two
of us for this Thanksgiving and we have been relishing the quiet with some minor
exceptions to a few televised football games (WOO HOO UofA) and walking the
dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Yesterday was Black Friday
and we stayed put! We haven’t done Black Friday for five years now. Every year
there is some catastrophe associated with this shopping date; fighting in the
isles, people being trampled to death all for the sake of a “good deal.” We
tend to forget that it is the celebration of Christ’s birth instead of the commercialization
of materialism. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Perhaps it is the aging
process, but we don’t seem to want or need as much as we once did. Could it
possibly be that our focus has shifted? Indeed, it has. It is more focused on
the intrinsic, the simple, and the eternal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Yesterday I focused on the
leftovers. We didn’t have a whole turkey, only a turkey breast that was more
than sufficient. Of course we prepared the standard mashed potatoes, bread
dressing, and baked sweet potatoes. Husband asked for green bean casserole,
which has been absent for a number of years now, so I obliged. I made homemade
cranberry sauce. I just cannot “do” the canned variety. My grandmother always
made homemade cranberry sauce, so I must too! Even though I didn’t eat it as a
child and who among us remembers the cranberry cancer scare during the 60’s? As
I recall, it was on the news nightly and nearly killed the cranberry industry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Remembering how at our
county fair in </span><st1:state style="font-family: Georgia;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ohio</st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Georgia;">
they offered wonderful cooked, shredded turkey sandwiches, I focused on trying
to recreate that. I took the remaining sliced breast meat and placed it in the crock-pot with a bit of broth. I cooked it until it could easily be pulled apart
with forks into a wonderful shredded concoction, then added some of the
leftover gravy into the mix. When complete it was served atop rolls (in bun
fashion) as little “sliders”. It turned out as well as I remembered from our
county fair!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I did take the bones and
skin from the breast and cooked it into a wonderful broth that will be made
into soup for Sunday. Meatless, but I’m thinking perhaps a rice noodle and some
Asian veggies like Nappa cabbage, bok choy, water chestnuts, broccoli,
zucchini, and maybe some mushrooms. I’m not sure yet, but the creative juices
are flowing! I love being creative with holiday leftovers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63JbPrN2EdEdx892uF37JijHxZt6ujnQSHCNGd8T6B91zJTM9ms0anTMZGh6ayfXj4e6HK8vBDOXpjqenNluYNLxxgxT6pmD-vOfIR526wd1qhGKHPebGmLHGP1xu2AS824ry_NmevRyN/s1600/Mudroom+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63JbPrN2EdEdx892uF37JijHxZt6ujnQSHCNGd8T6B91zJTM9ms0anTMZGh6ayfXj4e6HK8vBDOXpjqenNluYNLxxgxT6pmD-vOfIR526wd1qhGKHPebGmLHGP1xu2AS824ry_NmevRyN/s1600/Mudroom+1.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re-created Mudroom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Earlier in the week, I
read an article on Houz titled “9 Ways to Appreciate Your House Just as It Is”
(you can read it here <a href="http://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/7178281/list/9-ways-to-appreciate-your-house-just-as-it-is">www.houzz.com/ideabooks/7178281/list/9-ways-to-appreciate-your-house-just-as-it-is</a>). I believe I will begin a new journal just to show appreciation for our
simple townhouse!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Husband gifted me with a “new”
mudroom. OK, OK… so the townhouse does not have room for a mudroom, per sé, so
he removed the folding door to the “guest” closet, re-mudded the corners, removed
the hanger rod, re-painted the entire area, put on new hook / hangers and put a
bench with two shelves on it to hold shoes! I could not be more thrilled! I
placed a repurposed yard sale basket on the top shelf to hold gloves, scarves (</span><i style="font-family: Georgia;">yes, it occasionally gets cold enough to use
them</i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">), and the recycled plastic grocery bags for “doggy-do.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4e4CcTCkiN6UcQz_DLl2HbpM1glxVORbEmi2o1XfwoW4Xt1ojyXeQBa9M-QhtbNb3hf1hXw3OPERkETNK2IfAf3aN7mr6iVDUZHos6a7SKXK211cbeSQ7bOdiEvCdPoi3ITB-n4wFV1y/s1600/Table+and+Chairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4e4CcTCkiN6UcQz_DLl2HbpM1glxVORbEmi2o1XfwoW4Xt1ojyXeQBa9M-QhtbNb3hf1hXw3OPERkETNK2IfAf3aN7mr6iVDUZHos6a7SKXK211cbeSQ7bOdiEvCdPoi3ITB-n4wFV1y/s1600/Table+and+Chairs.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IKEA Expandable Table - Seats 6</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As I appreciate our home,
I am thankful for the block walls that help silence the noise from neighbor to
neighbor. I love our little “beehive” corner fireplace, and finding deals to
purchase new-to-me items that help with storage and expansion such as the IKEA
table that will expand out to seat six. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nOvjg9TmBK8NbVRMeExSmuz2YyhmvJROnikZw1BVv5y8vDpIEKOo_JiXhZDPMDD-6UVqtV2nttbPsaankrYjamvcd1N55nwxsFKDp3iUE9S2E8xB4V5bhE7Ec5ENr_mCofsO23lwd4oK/s1600/Table+Expanded.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_nOvjg9TmBK8NbVRMeExSmuz2YyhmvJROnikZw1BVv5y8vDpIEKOo_JiXhZDPMDD-6UVqtV2nttbPsaankrYjamvcd1N55nwxsFKDp3iUE9S2E8xB4V5bhE7Ec5ENr_mCofsO23lwd4oK/s1600/Table+Expanded.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With one side expanded</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Living in Metropolis (<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tucson</st1:place></st1:city>) we no longer pay
for cable or satellite TV. We use an antenna and do quite well with just that.
We can also watch Netflix programs or hook the computer up to the TV and watch Amazon
Prime movies / TV shows. <i>And still we
watch too much and do not read enough! <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIHeuqjhgjwkC2LLDrLczDXVLMOIT-mnkLY1VBg_0JMtqHUDS19Io7tx48rXi9uw_fT1UZmhkUwGy1dM4XDbboWBthmh4La7NdAo_5LDxXbd0XROlPT2Mc8Iyxt3gFtEjpJhiFrML85Bi/s1600/Fireplace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIHeuqjhgjwkC2LLDrLczDXVLMOIT-mnkLY1VBg_0JMtqHUDS19Io7tx48rXi9uw_fT1UZmhkUwGy1dM4XDbboWBthmh4La7NdAo_5LDxXbd0XROlPT2Mc8Iyxt3gFtEjpJhiFrML85Bi/s1600/Fireplace.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fireplace that makes me go "Ahhhh!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I still struggle with
wanting to purchase “cute-sie” items to fill our home, but then I must consider
how crowed things would become. I am determined to live more simply, more <i>intentionally</i>, more <i>minimally</i> and more <i>gratefully</i>.
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 9.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: 140%;">This
item was printed in -</span><em style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: 140%;">Pockets, Jan/Feb 2012 </em><span style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: 140%;">and is still timely today:</span></div>
<div class="attribute" style="line-height: 140%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Start the day with prayer and praise.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Before you get up each day, take a
moment to praise God and ask for God’s help in seeing the good in the day ahead.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Smile!</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">
You don’t necessarily need to pretend to be cheerful when you’re not, but
sometimes just smiling can help you feel better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Count your blessings.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> When your problems look bigger than your blessings, it’s
time to focus on those blessings. There are probably more than you think. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Expect the best from God.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Remember that God loves you and cares for you, even when
you can’t see it. And remember that God is with you no matter what’s going on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Choose an encouraging scripture for the day or week.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Write it down and keep it with you or
memorize it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">6.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Speak positively.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> When everyone around you is complaining and looking at the worst
in people and situations, try to say something positive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">7.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Trust God.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> When everything seems to be going wrong, that’s the moment to
trust God. Pray. Ask God to guide you through the rough parts of your day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">8.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Try not to worry.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Worry rarely helps, and most of the things we worry about either
won’t happen or won’t be as bad as we think. When you feel worried, turn your
thoughts to God’s love and care for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">9.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Make the best of even the worst days.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Ask God to show you something good
even on the worst day. And remember that even a terrible day is just one day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Georgia;">10.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">End the day with prayer and praise.</span></strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Thank God even on the worst days. Ask
God to help make the next day a better one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBoVdse18a9zcUTwbDC1ZpbIgdlqIaLszlBVmJY6jAKeQb23mhsrBLWaDtr6Ogo27Syl9jfxbW4NkYpWC-3EVtCrMHXi_xxamIELcT919KKmnQx6bNSlRHCmWpGVGQSOnUxKrofKLdPRy/s1600/Jeremiah+31_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBoVdse18a9zcUTwbDC1ZpbIgdlqIaLszlBVmJY6jAKeQb23mhsrBLWaDtr6Ogo27Syl9jfxbW4NkYpWC-3EVtCrMHXi_xxamIELcT919KKmnQx6bNSlRHCmWpGVGQSOnUxKrofKLdPRy/s1600/Jeremiah+31_b.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today's Journal Page</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Truly, I don’t want this
to sound like an afterthought, but my heart has been weighing heavily with the
events of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Ferguson</st1:city> <st1:state w:st="on">MO.</st1:state></st1:place> I have no answers or wisdom, but my God
does! My devotional today was from Jeremiah 31:15-17. The New Revised Standard
Version reads:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><sup><span style="background: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 6pt;"><br />
</span></sup></b><span class="textjer-31-15"><b><sup><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">15 </span></sup></b></span><span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">Thus says the</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span></span><span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">:</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">A
voice is heard in Ramah,</span></span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">lamentation and bitter weeping.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Rachel
is weeping for her children;</span></span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">she refuses to be comforted for her children,</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="textjer-31-15"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">because they are no more.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="textjer-31-16"><b><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span id="en-NRSV-19708" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">16 </span></span></sup></b></span><span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">Thus says the</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span></span><span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">:</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Keep
your voice from weeping,</span></span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">and your eyes from tears;</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">for
there is a reward for your work,</span></span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">says the</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="background: white; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span></span><span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white;">:</span></span></span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="textjer-31-16"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">they shall come back from the land of the enemy;</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
</span><span class="textjer-31-17"><b><sup style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span id="en-NRSV-19709" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">17 </span></span></sup></b></span><span class="textjer-31-17"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">there is hope for your future,</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span class="textjer-31-17"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">says the</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white;"> <span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="background: white; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span></span><span class="textjer-31-17"><span style="background: white;">:</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">
</span><span class="indent-1-breaks"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"></span><span class="textjer-31-17"><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia;">your children shall come back to their own country.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Indeed… weeping for her
[Rachel’s] children… refusing to be comforted… refrain from weeping, and your
eyes from tears…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Though we mourn, we must
not murmur! Ahhh… <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Ferguson</st1:city> <st1:state w:st="on">MO</st1:state></st1:place>! I am praying!! The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said
very succinctly, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” May we
all remember his peaceful stance for justice everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Can you believe it? Advent
begins Sunday and Monday is December 1<sup>st</sup>! Where has this year gone?
Thanksgiving begins the year end countdown and holiday season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">My wish, my prayer for you
this holiday season is <b>HEALTH</b>, <b>PEACE</b>, <b>IMMOVABLE FAITH</b> and <b>LOVE</b>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Wishing
you everyday grace… </span><b style="font-family: Georgia;">EVERY.SINGLE.DAY</b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tamara</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-46412431826470780882014-11-06T08:26:00.001-07:002014-11-06T09:28:39.778-07:00The Village People<div class="tr_bq">
...or It Takes a Village...</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<st1:place w:st="on">Independence</st1:place>
is a value in our culture, but it is <i>not</i>
a gospel value. Jesus lived in community and was a part of a village culture.
Certainly you remember the story in Luke 2 where his parents lost him on the way
home from the Passover festival? How do you lose a kid, especially when it is
the Messiah? They were part of the village that was traveling together in a
caravan. They probably trusted that he was safe with some friend or family
member. The culture then was not the suburbia of today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have had a little lady who visits us in the church
office. For lack of a better term, I often refer to her as the “Wild Haired
Woman.” She flits around like a moth drawn to the light, cannot remember from
one time to another the conversations, and is in a state of mental confusion
that is more than likely dementia. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She recently became homeless and this due to her generous
nature. She has a lease that allows one person to live in her apartment and yet
she continuously invites the homeless to stay with her. As wonderful and
altruistic as that may be, it violates the conditions of her lease so she was
turned out to the streets. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She does have a caseworker, who handles her finances and
pays her rent, but I’m sure with the aging population here in the southwest he
must have a huge caseload. When he learns she needs help he then is tasked with
trying to locate her and have a conversation with her to try and explain to her
the options she has at hand. It will be a conversation that she will not remember
or if she does, it will be fraught with paranoia and conspiracy to her
recollection. She maintains that, “I cannot live by man’s laws when I am called
to help my fellowman.” Thus the voided contract (lease) and all the ensuing problems.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Several of our members, staff and pastoral staff have gone
above and beyond in trying to assist this woman. Walking the known hangouts
where the homeless congregate, trying to find her and get her into suitable
housing, to include her caseworker. We found out about her plight most recently
by another homeless person who was taking her to lunch to find solutions for
her plight. We gave him the caseworker’s name and phone number. In fact, this
homeless man gave her a flannel shirt to wear during the cold night to keep her
warm and was very concerned for her welfare and who might try to take advantage
of her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, a moth drawn to the light… and shouldn't we, too be
drawn to the light…the light of Christ. <i>But
certainly, God, not to the point of becoming homeless and destitute</i>? Then
who is brought to my mind but Mother Teresa. A reporter who once was
interviewing her said, “I wouldn't do what you do for a million dollars.” She
responded, “Me neither.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It takes a village is an African proverb. It does indeed
take a village. The question remains, will I be a willing participant, a member
of “The Village People”? We live in community among the suffering because that
is what we were created for. Not only does it give life to others, but it
regenerates our lives too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Abba, Father… help me to see those around me with your eyes,
the eyes of compassion, the eyes of a mother who is seeking for the good of her
children. We are now entering into the season where giving becomes a little
less restrictive and we feel better about ourselves for giving to the needy; to
the least of these, my brothers (and sisters). May my eyes be opened all year
long, not just during the holiday season.
~Amen</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wishing you everyday grace... every single day,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tamara</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote>
Job 30:24-25<b><sup><span style="background: white;"><br /></span></sup></b><span class="textjob-30-24"><span style="background: white;">Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man </span></span><span style="background-color: white;">when he cries for help in his distress. </span><span id="en-NIV-13583" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">H<span class="textjob-30-25"><span style="background: white;">ave I not wept for those in trouble? </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;">Has not my soul grieved for the poor?</span></blockquote>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-60191228666776337432014-10-24T17:34:00.001-07:002014-10-25T07:26:24.164-07:00God's Song for Us<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This was my
devotional yesterday:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">God looks at us
with love, kindness, and great compassion at all times.
Zephaniah 3:17 tells us that God takes great delight in us, calms and
quiets us with divine love, and rejoices over us with singing. I wonder what
song God is singing over me right now? What song is God singing over you?
Scripture says that it is a song of rejoicing and delight. I wonder what effect
it would have on us if we could hear, just once, the words of God’s song for
us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">- Leigh
Harrison<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Birthed in
Prayer: Pregnancy as a Spiritual Journey<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">From the Upper Room Devotional<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h1 style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">Zephaniah
3:17</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 8pt; font-weight: normal;">New International Version (NIV)</span><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 12.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><sup><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10.5pt;"> </span></sup></b><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> your
God is with you,<br />
the Mighty Warrior who saves.<br />
He will take great delight in you;<br />
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,<br />
but will rejoice over you with singing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Then I recalled something I
had read somewhere that described an African Tribe that created original songs
to sing to the newborns. I recall thinking what a wonderful gift that was to
and for the child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">After a bit of internet
research, this is what I found on <i><b>T</b></i><b><i>he Free Thought Project </i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h1 style="margin-bottom: .05in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 20pt;">Tribe in <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> where the birth date
of a child is counted not from when they were born<span style="font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></h1>
<div class="singlepostmeta" style="margin-bottom: 7.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="singlepostmeta" style="margin-bottom: 7.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">By<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://thefreethoughtproject.com/author/savy4/"><span style="color: #fe4e47;">Matt
Agorist</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>on January 13,
2014<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 7.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 7.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Read
more at <a href="http://thefreethoughtproject.com/tribe-africa-birth-date-child-counted-born/">http://thefreethoughtproject.com/tribe-africa-birth-date-child-counted-born/</a></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">CAUTION:
EXPLICIT PHOTOGRAPHS OF TRIBAL WOMAN and what I consider to be inappropriate
ads for some faux news items (how to eliminate belly fat).</span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">(T)here
is a tribe in <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> where the birth date of a
child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived
but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a
woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree,
by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants
to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the
man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they
make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the
song of the child, as a way to invite it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">And then,
when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the
midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the
old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And
then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song.
If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song
to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites
of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village
sing his or her song.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">In the
African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the
child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or
aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and
the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their
song to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The
tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment;
it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song,
you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">And it
goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together.
And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers
know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">You may
not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial
life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with
yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches
your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all
recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the
moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find
your way home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The
tribe in this story is known as the Himba Tribe. They live in the northern
parts of <st1:country-region w:st="on">Namibia</st1:country-region> on the
banks of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Kunene</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Tahoma;">Whether
or not this recount is folklore or actually happens, we can all learn an
insightful lesson from this story. Dwelling on the negative only tends to
contribute to its power, true salvation is freedom from negativity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><br />
Wishing you everyday grace,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Tamara<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Tamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7638818308450544491.post-47689697166441665562014-10-04T17:19:00.000-07:002014-10-04T17:19:48.122-07:00The Talk: ANGER!<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="color: blue;">This transcript is the original that I wrote for my talk on anger this past weekend. I am sharing it here for your perusal.</span></i></blockquote>
In 1994, I began working for the Arizona Department of Corrections. After 19 years of service, I retired last September. No, I wasn't a Corrections Officer, I was the Warden’s Secretary – Clerical Goddess was the term I liked to use. In 2000, I successfully competed for and promoted to the Education Department and became a Librarian to the inmate population.<br />
<br />
I loved my job working with the inmates. Like all jobs there were good times and there were bad times. I was known by officers and the administration and being “spot on” concerning the knowledge and application of policy and procedure. I became the “go to person” when there were questions surrounding policy and procedure for both inmates and staff.<br />
<br />
In 2002, our 22 year old son became one of two defendants in a highly publicized and controversial case in our community. It was front page news in the local newspaper that morning. I remember reading the article and I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew, I knew my son was involved, even though no names were mentioned in the article. A mother’s intuition? Perhaps. I tore into his bedroom and woke him from sleep screaming at him, “Tell me this isn't you, tell me!” as I threw the newspaper on his bed.<br />
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He tried to assure me it wasn't him. By this time he was quite adept at deceiving his father and me. I wanted to believe him so badly, but my heart told me otherwise.<br />
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As the case progressed the next time it appeared in the newspaper, again on the front page, his name was listed as well as the other defendant’s. When I arrived at work that day, I entered the Yard Office and all conversation stopped and the officers avoided eye contact. I was crushed. I gathered up the library books, the mail and inmate letters, but before I left, I turned to my co-workers and said, “If you read today’s newspaper, you realize my son is in some serious trouble and will probably be serving prison time. Here is what I want you to know: I love my son, I am deeply grieved that he has made bad choices, but I want you to know that I am still the same Tamara that you've always known. I still follow policy and procedure and will continue to do so. I am hurting beyond belief and sometimes I may need you to come along side and put your hand on my shoulder or give me a hug.” My co-workers did indeed circle around me and hugged me and encouraged me.<br />
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In June of 2003, my son was sentenced to 2.5 years in the Arizona Department of Corrections. The other defendant served no actual prison time. Somehow that didn’t seem fair and it left a bad taste in my mouth and a lot of questions. Questions seek an answer, but what about when the answers don’t come? Unanswered questions can lead to anger and they certainly did in my case.<br />
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When we came home from the sentencing hearing, my husband and I sat in stunned silence. We questioned ourselves and asked what it was that we had done to cause our son to commit a criminal act. Were we such bad parents?<br />
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I finally got up, changed my clothes and went into my son’s room. I stripped the bedding, packed up his clothing and cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned to the point of exhaustion. Cleaning is what I do when I’m angry. Cleaning and rearranging furniture.<br />
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Cleaning is good, after all, as women; we are to be the “peace makers”, the “reconcilers”, not the ones who become angry, not the ones who seethe and rage and weep uncontrollably. So I “stuffed” it.<br />
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My son’s bedroom became my prayer closet. The head of his bed became an alter at which I kneeled and prayed for him. It was also the place where I raged and screamed at God. I spewed out my anger to and towards God and raised my feeble, clenched fist in angst.<br />
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I also very effectively alienated people. Some very dear people, friends who were wise enough to know the pain I was going through and kind enough to give me space and to forgive my transgressions. (<i>Thank you, Church Lady!</i>)<br />
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The hardest thing I have ever done during my tenure with the Department of Corrections is to leave work on a Friday evening and then on Saturday morning cross that “invisible line” and become a visiting inmate family member. Our trek home was always accomplished in silence.<br />
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Our son was released in 2005. I wish I could say that “we all lived happily ever after” but that would not be the case. He now has a daughter and son (<i>from two different women</i>) and has never been married. He committed another felony and in 2012 he was again sentenced to prison for another 2.5 years. He was released this past April to our residence.<br />
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The Roman lyrical poet, Horace said, “Anger is a short madness,” and if that is the case, then bitterness is anger that has been boiled, simmered, and then found so unpalatable that it has been thrown into the deep freeze of our hearts and our unconscious psyches.<br />
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In May 2009, the Los Angeles Times printed an article called: “Bitterness as mental illness?” It stated: “Bitter behavior is so common and deeply destructive that some psychiatrists are urging it be identified as a mental illness under the name post-traumatic embitterment disorder.” I am that poster child!<br />
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We all know bitter people. None of us wants to be that bitter person. It sneaks up on us and robs us of any joy we can find or have found elsewhere.<br />
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I was angry, but then even Jesus got angry, right? He drove the money changers out of the temple after turning over their tables and throwing their money on the ground! I’m in good company, right?<br />
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Only what Jesus did is called ‘righteous indignation’ and frankly there was nothing righteous about my anger!<br />
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My anger and bitterness only made my sense of wrong grow. It did absolutely nothing to heal the wound caused by the injustice. In fact, it causes that wound to become infected with anger; it developed into a raging, seething, oozing, putrefying sore.<br />
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Bitterness is wrath’s little sister. Where anger can be just and moral if it propels us to seek solutions for the wrongs we have experienced or witnessed – especially as it relates to social justice. Wrath is a deadly sin because it becomes anger that feeds on itself and adds to the wreckage caused by the original wound. Bitterness does this too, but instead of burning down the house with everything we value still inside, bitterness is quieter, slowly poisoning our life until we lose it one joy at a time.<br />
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A saying I use to quote is, “The circumstances of life are intended to make us better, not bitter.” Oh, I could quote it; I just didn’t apply it to my life!<br />
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Here are some things you might try to overcome bitterness and anger:<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: blue;">Learn to Forgive</span></h3>
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Unforgiveness is like taking poison and hoping the other person will die. Forgiveness does not mean pretending everything is “OK.” It doesn't mean forgetting the hurt either. St. Augustine said that forgiveness is simply the act of surrendering our desire for revenge; that is, our desire to hurt some-one for having hurt us. Forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves. It enables us to stop picking at the scab and allow healing to take place.<br />
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If you are comfortable doing so, you can let “the person” know you have forgiven them. That can go bad however, if the person tells you they don’t need or require your forgiveness. Just remember, forgiveness isn't so much for the other party as it is for you.<br />
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AND – you don’t even need to reconcile with the person! There comes a point in our lives where we just realize we don’t need or want to be hurt anymore. Forgiving is one thing and forgetting is something entirely different. They are not one and the same. Forgiveness allows you to free up the energy you need to begin healing the wound.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: blue;">Make a plan</span></h3>
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It can be tempting to give into feelings of “woe is me”, “there’s nothing I can do” but resist those feelings and self-talk. In fact, if you feel this way and can’t think of solutions, talk to a professional to “check your math” before deciding that the only thing you can do is to grieve and mourn your loss. If, after consultation, you find that there really is nothing you can do to reclaim what was lost or taken from you, focus your energy on developing new goals that will help to reconstruct your future in a positive manner.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: blue;">Stop Dwelling and Retelling</span></h3>
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When we are hurt, we have a tendency to turn the painful events over and over in our head or tell anyone who will listen about our pain–over and over again. It is fine to talk to people we think can help us heal the hurt, facilitate reconciliation or help us rebuild our lives, but other than that, we should do what we can to stop dwelling on the story of our injury ourselves and stop speaking of it so freely to others. When we are tempted to “dwell or retell” the best course of action is to refocus on what we can do–TODAY–to take at least some small step toward the goal you developed in Making a Plan. The more you are focused on solutions, the less you will experience the sense of powerlessness that comes from pondering on the hurt.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: blue;">Seek Grace</span></h3>
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It can be next to impossible to heal some wounds without God’s grace. Bitterness causes us to ignore God’s grace in favor of obsessing over the wound. If you are holding on to bitterness I encourage you to take it to God in prayer. Please don’t be insulted by the suggestion. I know that you have a right to your pain. Still, holding on to anything except God’s love, mercy and healing grace can separate us from the life God wants us to have. If you can open your heart to prayer, you may receive the healing that God wants to give you. It can help you surrender the pain and powerlessness as you begin to discover new options. Stop hoarding your hurt and seek grace!<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: blue;">Seek Professional Help</span></h3>
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If the bitterness won’t let go even after you've tried all of the above, it might be time to seek professional help. Working with a professional can help you see possibilities that your pain has blinded you to and give you new tools to heal the wounds that are holding you back. If you have a professional in your area that you have worked with before, it just might be time to reconnect. Perhaps one of our Spiritual Leaders could lead you in the right path.<br />
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That was my choice. I sought a counselor to help me work through the anger and bitterness. One assignment she asked of me was to write out “what is that thing up your nose”. You know? That awful feeling that there’s something up your nose that someone other than you can see! So I wrote it out (<i>actually in the form of a poem</i>) and gave it to her at our next appointment. That was when she and I both knew I was going to be alright.<br />
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That also began my habit of journaling. A journal is a good way to put it “in black and white”. By writing “down the bones” you can transfer it from your internal to the page. It is a catharsis, a purification of sorts. You can make it ceremonial by neatly folding it, letting it sit for a determined amount of time, perhaps re-reading it and then burning it in a fire pit or ash tray, then watch the smoke rise skyward… as if it were a burnt offering to God.<br />
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I continue to journal to this day. I try to make it a daily practice and in the course of journaling, I have a practice that I call “seeking everyday grace”. I look for a gift from God and jot it down. A beautiful sunset (<i>or sunrise</i>), a hummingbird at the feeder, a kind word spoken, or an unexpected note or card in the mail can all be an everyday grace.<br />
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I can write this, I can share this, and I can believe this with my whole heart. However, I still have a tendency to slip back into the comfort of bitterness. It takes an act of faith and prayer everyday to not look back, but step forward.<br />
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Yes, indeed, the circumstances of life are intended to make us better, but not bitter!<br />
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<i><span style="color: blue;">That sums up the talk I shared with the women whose lives have been impacted by prison in one manner or another. </span></i></blockquote>
Wishing you everyday grace... Every single day!<br />
<br />
TamaraTamarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15487299243348055428noreply@blogger.com2