Blessed Assurance

I have recovered from the wedding, I think.  The tuxes have been returned, the flowers are wilting and we have almost finished the cakes.  For several days no one was allowed to leave our house unless they took a large plate of cake with them!

Since I was the mother of the bride, every moment of the day was special to me. The getting dressed, the hundreds of pictures, the rest time before the ceremony...and then, the ceremony.  My favorite part of the ceremony was at the beginning when the minister instructed Allie and Ryan to turn around and look at the congregation.  He prompted them to look around at the guests and to "take it all in".  After months of preparation, a week of final details and a day full of rushing around for pictures - they were able to stop and see all the folks that came to support them.  Of course, I couldn't keep my eyes off Allie and Ryan.  They were truly beaming.

As I crashed into the bed that night, I was overwhelmed with thankfulness.  I was thankful for the gift of the day.  Just being there and experiencing the day would have been enough.  But during the reception I felt a little nudge from God.  He was prompting me to look around and take it all in.  I saw Ryan, the man that has promised to love, honor and cherish my daughter for all of her days, I saw family members, young and old.  There were friends, some from years past and some new.  There were members from another family that were now a part of our family.  Then it occurred to me, these are the people that will be comforting, loving and supporting my family when I am gone.  It didn't make me sad to think of it, it actually made me very happy.  I know there are others that will also be there for Steve, Allie and Andrew, but God was giving me a glimpse, an assurance that when He calls me home they will be okay.

Isn't that the way our awesome God is?  He is almighty, creator of all good things, ruler over heaven and earth!  Then, His compassion is so deep and personal that He knows that a terminally ill wife and mom just wants to know that everything will be okay.

Love to all,

AmyLou

Taking a Little Stroll

This past Wednesday I joined 1.2 million people in watching the college softball championship game.  A three hour delay to the start of the game did not discourage me one bit.  I was in it to "finish" it!  I believe that is the best softball game I have ever witnessed.

I played softball.  Unfortunately, it was before Title 9 so our school did not have a team.  I played park ball.   I've often wondered if I would have been good enough to make a school team.  Since we can't travel back in time, I like to think that I made the team and I was a superstar!  I was a catcher for most of my years of softball (which ended when I was 22) and I have the knees to prove it!

The park was a large part of my life.  As I stroll down memory lane I can see the park of my childhood.There were only two fields - King Field, but most of us called it the big field, and Byrd Field, which was, of course, the little field - it was a simpler time.  There was also a swimming pool and a gymnasium, but they are not part of this trip to the past.

Strangely enough, the thoughts of my years at the park, begin with my grandfather, PawPaw.  He was badly disabled by a stroke years before, but he could make it to the park and set up his lawn chair under the awning of the concession stand that was directly behind home plate.  Since I was a catcher, I was very close to him.  He couldn't form many words, but I could hear him laughing, his way of communicating.  I  knew that no matter who was sitting on the bleachers, I had a fan.

I think of Mr. Byrd "passing the hat".  During the game the announcer would say it was time to pass the hat, so Mr. Byrd, who seemed to be at least 100 years old at the time, would pass a baseball cap to collect money from the spectators.  As a young child, this activity would confuse me.  In my childish mind we paid God on Sundays by passing the plate.  I couldn't figure out who we were paying with this passing of the hat.

I can almost taste the hamburgers and fries, the best I ever tasted...no telling how many years they used the same grease!  The hands full of bubble gum bought for the team, someone passing you a coke through the hole in the dugout.

I had many different coaches over the years but a few made quite an impression on me.  Dot Cochran - she taught me the game of softball, her wit still amuses me today.  Charlene Treadaway - she probably worked us harder than any coach.  After you run a few laps for missing a ball, it becomes very important to catch it the next time.  Jim Gallman - he was the last of my little league coaches.  He taught me loyalty, playing through the pain and how to put the team first.

As I got older the "big field" got my attention.  That is where the "older" boys played.  The high school didn't have a baseball field, so all the high school games were played there.  We lived close enough to hear the PA system.  I headed down the hill as soon as I heard them giving the starting line ups.  You may think I'm a little off my rocker...but one of the best sounds to me is metal cleats walking on pavement.  I know it is cliche to say it is like music to my ears.  It wasn't because it meant boys were around, ok, maybe a little, but it mostly meant baseball was around!

...and the dirt...oh the dirt at the park was the best ever!  It was red dirt.  Any socks you wore to the park could never be worn anywhere else.  After a ballgame I would be covered in it. It just about took a scouring pad to clean it off your clothes and body.   I loved it! Yes, I just confessed my love for dirt.  But this wasn't just any dirt, it was park dirt.  It's the dirt that held the magic of childhood, the glory days of a beloved sport, the making of life long friends.

Scarlett O'Hara had a love for the dirt of Tara.  It was in her blood.  I think I have the same feeling for the red dirt of the park. It's a part of what makes me who I am.

Thanks for taking this trip with me to the park.

AmyLouLou
 

Hey Grandpa, what's for supper?

Do you ever have conversations in your house that sound similar to this?

What do you want for supper?

I don't know what do you want?

I'm not sure, just name something?

I'm not that hungry so you pick?

What do you want?

Still don't know, so you pick.

I can eat whatever, so you name the place.

This conversation goes on at our house at least 5 times a week.  It drives me nuts!  In Steve's defense it is hard for him to pick something because my diet is so limited.  I can't go to a restaurant and choose different things - I have specific things at various places.  At Jim-n-Nicks a piece of catfish, at Full Moon a plain potato, at Milo's an apple pie and so on.....

I've always loved food - especially the southern classics: fried okra, squash in any form, cornbread...you get the idea.  Most of these things, again, are not on my "things I can eat" list.  So I have really lost the desire to eat.  When the above conversation happens at my house, I could really be okay with a piece of cheese toast or a cup of yogurt.  But Steve works hard every day and he needs a substantial meal.

Boy, I sound really negative about this, but I'm okay about it, really I am.  But the dreams of California Pizza Kitchen salads are really getting annoying!

Hopefully these days are almost over.  I've been on this restricted diet because of one of the chemo drugs I take.  Believe me, if I try to cheat it ain't pretty!  But I've had the last of that type of treatment.  I will start a new one after the wedding.  

The side effect with this new treatment is a rash....on your face...that resembles teenage acne...yeah. 

So, if one day you see an overweight woman, with acne and a wig in line at Niki's, do NOT get in my way.  :-)

Having a PET scan on Friday.  We would appreciate your prayers.

Good night!

AmyLou

Monday

Ok, so I'm not a very good blogger. I think of things I could write, but using the iPad keypad is the excuse I use. Not a very good excuse by any means. My second excuse is my frame of mind. I want to lift people up with spiritually minded things. I am a spiritual person. My belief in God is steadfast and my salvation through Jesus Christ is steadfast. When I started this blog I intended to use it as a way to express my emotions as I deal with terminal cancer. Well, honestly, sometimes my thoughts are not uplifting. I get scared, I get mad, I get sad...but I think, for the most part, I'm handling pretty well. It helps that I have a strange sense of humor. A sense of humor of any kind is a good weapon to have in your arsenal if you are battling cancer. Because of one of the side effects from my chemo, I am mostly home bound now. So me and Gracie, the best lap dog ever, spend the days looking at the beautiful flowers Steve maintains, watching the birds and cross stitching. Gracie doesn't cross stitch. Anyway, I am going to try to blog more, mainly for something to do. (haha). By blogging I am in no way disillusioned that people care what I do on a daily basis. I just like to write. Hopefully I can get some techie assistance from my hubby to add pictures to make it a little more interesting. That's all I've got to say about that. -Forrest Gump Good night, Amy Lou

Ramblings

Most of my thoughts for this blog come to me at night, just as I'm about to drift off to sleep (with the help of some marvelous pills).  The sentences sound great as they are forming in my head.  Unfortunately, that marvelous sleepy time medicine, must also be a mind eraser.  I can remember what I want to convey, but not the route I will take to get there.  Very frustrating! (side note: after having to search for the (!) I just used, it is frustrating that Ipad does not have the standard keyboard)


Anyway, this week marks the two year anniversary of the doctors telling us I was terminal and would not beat this cancer.  It was on a Wednesday.  I had already fought the cancer battle for a year and thought it was behind me.  Now they were saying I could keep fighting but I would not win.  When I asked how long he thought I might live, the doctor said 2 to 2 1/2 years.  You do the math.  I remember crying in the office.  I think Steve held it together until we got to the car.  We made it home and out to the deck.  We cried, prayed and talked, then we went to church.  The news had traveled fast, so folks were surprised to see us there.  I remember thinking, "where else were we suppose to go?"

I'm glad I chose to continue to fight.  It has not been an easy battle, at times the side effects have left me crumpled on the floor crying.  But the good days are so good and sweet, that each time the doc asks if I want to keep going, I say a resounding YES!  Last week I didn't make it out of bed.  But today I am on my deck, feeling the breeze, enjoying the view of all the flowers Steve has planted for me, hearing the birds sing...yep, it's a glorious day!

Darn it!  Three rambling paragraphs and I haven't even touched on what I wanted to say!  I guess I will have to start again tomorrow.

After thought:  When they told us 2 1/2 years we didn't circle a date on the calendar.  Each day is ordained by God, whether I live one more day, six more months or six more years.


MY FLESH AND MY HEART MAY FAIL, BUT GOD IS THE STRENGTH OF MY HEART AND MY PORTION FOREVER.    PSALM 73:26

Perseverance

For the past 3 years I have been posting either here or on CaringBridge. I have posted things I think about, updates on my health and scripture that is meaningful to me. When diagnosed I wanted the fight and the outcome to be to the Glory of God. I've always believed it is the duty and priviledge of a Christian to share their faith not only through words, but with their life.

I am not perfect and I don't have it all figured out. But during my quiet time yesterday I read something that seemed to leap off the page at me. It was a passage out of book by Beth Moore. If you are not familiar with her studies, let me just say - they are awesome! She will pull the significant words from a scripture verse and give the Greek translation and it's meaning, which gives a deeper, better understanding of the Word. The following is how the Word came to life for me, I hope you get as much joy out of reading it as I did writing it.

"Consider it pure joy my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance". James 1:2

Definition of perseverance: "nerving up" or "heroic endurance".

Perseverance is not a passive thing. It is an action, a choice. James tells us that the testing of our faith develops perseverance. That does not mean that when our faith is tested, when we are going through trials we should run to a corner and cover our heads. We shouldn't cower, biding our time until the storm clouds depart. We should "nerve up", strap on our full armor of God and stand strong. A picture of Superman comes to mind. Standing strong, his feet planted firmly, hands on his hips and his chin held high.

I know during trials there are days that we feel like we can't go on. Perseverance is the furtherest thing from our mind. There are days I look for that corner to hide in, trying to wish away my disease. But then I will get a second wind, from a friend or a scripture verse that comes to mind. I take a deep breath, steady my feet and ask God to help me stand strong again. James 1:4 says perseverance must finish its work so you can be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. Wow, I must need a lot of work!

Psalm 34:18, "the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit". So while our perseverance is being developed, we are not alone. God is right there with us, through the doubts, the fears and long, dark nights.

"Cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you". 1 Peter 5:7


Some days are hard. but remember the victory is ours!

She is perched high in her nest, looking over the last of the winter leaves swirling in the wind. The journey of this last evidence of winter is slowed only by the early shoots of spring, the tender blades are no match for the windblown leaves so their journey continues. The mama bird has been patiently caring for her soon-to-be hatchling. She has sat for hours on end with her body protecting her young child. The warmth of her body has shielded him from the cold winds and the curious looks from squirrels and other predators. As her wings wrap around him she coos to him softly to calm his fears.

As time passes, mama bird knows that it will soon be time for her little one to test his wings. She whispers to him softly, instilling courage and confidence as she teaches him the lessons he will need when he departs the only home he's ever known.

The day arrives and baby bird is trying to hide his trepidation and doesn't notice that mama bird is having the same feelings. She looks him over and fluffs his new feathers, reminding him of the lessons she has taught him. He climbs on the edge of the nest and looks at the ground far below then looks at the sky that beckons him. Mama keeps calming encouraging him, she tells him how strong and brave he has become. At her urging, he slowly steps of the ledge of his home. He begins spiraling downward, fearing he had forgotten everything he was taught. Mama looks nervously from the ledge and sees him getting closer to the ground. She is filled with self-doubt. Did she not teach the correct lessons, was she pushing him out too soon. Her instincts tell her to rush down, catch her son and bring him safely back to the nest. They could wait a few weeks and try again. But she kept her place, believing her son was well equipped for the journey.

Just a few feet from the ground, baby bird seemed to gather his courage. He began to flap his tiny wings and the faster he flapped the stronger he became. He began to rise higher and higher, growing stronger and stronger. Soon he was circling and showing off for his mom. She watched him, laughing and clapping, full of joy for him. He flew past the nest one more time, winked at his mom and started his new life on his own.

Mama had tears of joy! The lessons and encouragement had come to fruition. Her son was grown now. There will always be an empty spot in the nest where he rested his head. He no longer needs her protection and warmth, but the time they spent growing together will always keep their hearts connected.

************

As my days go by, I think of my children in a type of time capsules. I think of cute things they did as babies, their favorite books, favorite toys. I worked and was not able to spend the time I wanted with them when they were young. It seemed as if we spent most of our time traveling to ball games, ballet and music lessons. I always wanted to nurture their passions - the things they loved. I was sure Allie would find a vocation in music, but her love is the written word. I knew Andrew would be in the military, but I thought it would be his career. He has become the music lover in the family and wants to pursue that passion.

My intention was to raise my children with confidence to go out into the world. I wanted them to stand up for what they believe in, to love what is right and to hate what is wrong. I love what they have become. They are both incredibly independent. Allie is the woman I wish I had been at her age. Independent, hard working, involved in civic affairs and charities. When an interview panel asked her if she was an animal, what would she be, she surprised them by saying "a duck". That is a perfect description of her. She looks calm to those around her, but underneath she is always busy paddling.

Andrew is strong, courageous, and loyal. I am very proud of the man he has become. We share the "gift" of stubbornness, so we locked horns many times. You will always know what he thinks on any subject. Outspoken would be an understatement. When he was about 10 years old, a friend of mine witnessed him speaking his mind. She said, "once the Word gets a hold of him, he will be a strong witness for God". I believe we are beginning to see that transition for him and it fills my heart with joy.

I have been incredibly blessed with these children. I am humbled that God trusted me to care for them and love them with all my heart.

"His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."