Same song, second verse. This is my second try of the day to publish. The first got lost.

Meet Elisa, the sweet little one we keep on school days. The picture was taken about a month ago and she is smiling at her Paw Paw, something she does quite a lot. She looks much like her dad did at this age--now too, for that matter. In a couple of weeks she'll make her first trip to "the lake" with her other brothers and sisters to see her Mimi and Pop. They will be thrilled with her smiles too!

The weather man finally got it right with the prediction of frozen precipitation. It started snowing here yesterday about 2 p.m. and continued way past dark. It was beautiful coming down, "luminous with the moon shining on it" (Jacob's descriptive words), and beautiful when we awoke. By noon much of the backyard had melted. Leaves on the magnolia in our yard and others on our street made good surfaces for holding the snow; our dogwood looked as if it was blooming early with white tulip shaped blossoms; the nandina outside our back windows are bent double to the ground. Usually, with the slightest breeze their movement causes one of the lights on the corner of the house to come on, but they can't with their tops bowed to the ground. The three oldest grands came down to inspect our snow after they had played some at their house. They had a brief snowball fight, but spent most of their time inside snacking. They said they would be back, but I suspect after their mom gets them inside and dry, their plans will change. Snow is pretty, but it does make a mess and create more laundry.

The snow brings back memories of the first Christmas Tommy and Liz lived here. A few days before Christmas they were greeted with both snow and ice. We flew in from California and were stranded overnight in the Memphis airport. The next morning we rented a car, drove the eighty miles in three hours and literally slid into the driveway. Later that afternoon Tom was playing outside with the children and when Sarah's cardboard box sled got away from her, he went running to her rescue, but fell and cracked ribs on the curb. We spent some time in the ER Christmas Eve night. But, not as long as Linda, Liz's mom, spent there on Christmas day. They had arrived while Tom and I were seeing about him and the next morning we had a good time opening gifts and having a late breakfast. Linda and Frank returned to the hotel to rest a bit before dinner, she fell on the steps, broke her tailbone and off they went to the ER. They were there for hours. Not wanting them to miss dinner, Liz fixed their plates on the Christmas china and delivered it to the hospital. We chuckle a little bit when we talk about that Christmas, but it wasn't fun then.

We went to Corinth yesterday for my monthly visit with the doctor and for a treatment. The church friend who drove us spent most of her working life in Philadelphia and in the DC area so she wasn't threatened in the least by impending bad weather. All around us school districts were either closed or were letting out early. That didn't deter us and we were home before the snow started. The doctor was out with the flu the last time I went so we didn't get the official scan report from February until yesterday. They are improved since ones taken in November, 07, and the CA125 continues to drop--not a perfect report, but not bad. I will have the sixth and final treatment of this series the first Friday in April, wait three weeks to repeat the scans and he will re-evaluate where we are.

I was lying in bed this morning allowing my mind to wander and I realized I had not named this cancer. (I have a quirk about giving things names.) The breast cancer was called "Molly the Mass" and the first bout with ovarian cancer was dubbed "Tillie the Tumor," but these last two occurences are hard to name because there is no mass, nor tumor. I thought about "Ollie" for ovarian, but promptly dismissed that because one of the dearest people I know is called Ollie. Then "Pesky" came to me. I thought: this is like some people I know that corner you when you need to be somewhere or some that annoy you and you try to avoid them. A particular type comes to mind. Maybe you know the type; maybe not. Maybe I should be ashamed and duck my head into my clerical collar, but I don't own one. I have known some people I describe as "space invaders." They stand a little too close when they talk to you, they talk on and on and all the while I'm standing there smiling, nodding, trying to gracefully excuse myself. What a thought! This cancer fits the description. It has invaded my space and I'm doing whatever is medically possible to avoid it. Since it is chronic, it wants to go on and on while all the while I'm still smiling, nodding with hope and praying for a miracle. Though it is "pesky" and that name fits, "space invader" has a better ring to it. From now on this cancer will unaffectionately be known as "Space Invader."

That's it for now. I wanted you to see Elisa, hear of our snow and the doctor's report. I surely do hope the post publishes this time. I'm not sure I can write it a third time. Have a wonderful, blessed weekend. Worship Almighty God wherever you are and you will, most assuredly, be blessed.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret