The days are speeding past . . .
and I am barely keeping pace. I think I've done a lot, then I step into a room that still has lots in it to pack. Two weeks from today I'll be somewhere in between this Jackson and Jackson, MS. The truck comes to load both houses on June 2, but won't arrive in Petal until the 7th. After I leave here, I'll go to Memphis to visit my cousin overnight, then head to Jackson to visit friends there. Monday, the 6th, we meet in Hattiesburg to close on the new house. I'll stay with the pastor and his wife until I can get somewhat organized in the new place. Unfortunately, Tommy and Liz will have a more hectic schedule since VBS begins Monday and they will need to be present for that. Oh well, they're young and energetic. None of us can believe the time has come.
Meanwhile, we continue to pray for Liz's parents and the approaching flood water. The Mississippi is scheduled to crest at Natchez Wednesday, the 25th and I believe they moved to higher ground today. They live on the Louisiana side of the river, which is lower than the Natchez side. Their furniture was moved out two weeks ago and plans were made to move to an apartment at the Natchez Children's Home when they could stay in their home no longer. The stress and strain on thousands of people is devastating, to say nothing of the loss of property.
Thank you for praying with us.
Today I went to Memphis with my two knitting friends. Not only was I ready to take a break from packing, but I also had a couple of problems that needed an expert's help. We had a great day!
Blogs may be sparse for the next few weeks as we wind down here, get moved and settled with a new address, a new e-mail, etc. I'll send new contact information to Mary when we're there.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Friday, May 20, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Holding back the panic mode . . .
Sitting in front of the computer and the TV; learning about flood conditions, when and where the River will crest; seeing the fleeing deer and the water moccasins up close and personal tends to make one anxious. Liz's parents have prepared to evacuate their home in Louisiana, just across the River from Natchez. Still they wait and pray and we wait and pray with them. Last night there was news that the crest had come to Memphis and that some of the towns in Northwestern Tennessee have begun to dry out. Water, so necessary to life, can also be very deadly.
The repair man worked diligently with his crew four days last week. As it happens, he found a few more things to fix than what I put on the original list and there were a few other "flies in the ointment" as well. Installing a new kitchen sink turned from a simple task to a two day undertaking. I lost count of how many trips Ricky made to Lowe's to get additional pipes and joints because the original plumbing seemed to have been pieced together. After two days of having no water in the kitchen, the sink was pronounced ready and the water turned back on. Unfortunately, it was not ready. The dishwasher woundn't fill , nor would the icemaker, then we discovered leaks. Finally, yesterday afternoon Ricky came back, turned the right knobs, found the leak and I was back in business. The three window ledges are pending and I think I still have a leak somewhere in the front porch roof. Surely, you remember telling your children, like our parents told you: Anything worth doing is worth doing right. Whoever "repaired" things before we got here, didn't know that instruction!
The weekend was busy. I was up by five Saturday morning to make final preparations for the yard sale. At the end of the day I told Liz that I wasn't sure it was worth the effort and she began naming the things accomplished. We forced ourselves to get rid of things, which in turn helped to organize packing efforts and what wasn't sold was picked up at the end of the day and we didn't have to deal with those things again. Those who pick up for the Paralyzed Veterans Assn. were already scheduled to stop here this morning to get clothing I had to donate.
It was Youth Sunday at church--the best service of that type I have ever attended and I've experienced MANY in my lifetime. Everyone in the group had at least one part in leading worship. Grandson Jacob accompanied on his guitar for the youth songs and for the offertory he played an arrangement of "This is My Father's World" and "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" on alto saxophone. People were blessed by his offering of music and Mom, Dad and Maw Maw were beaming through our tears. Tom would have been "busting his buttons." Later in the day I visited on Skype with Marty and the two boys and went to Tommy's for Mother's Day supper. Praise God for two wonderful children and eight special grandchildren.
I taught my last lesson for my circle yesterday. For me, it was a bit sad. Anyone who has ever shared God's Word in such a setting feels a special bond with those who come. I have been the Bible leader for the past two years and in the process we have come to know each other better, shared faith stories and learned together. What a blessing those ladies have been to me!
Now, I focus on packing, packing, packing. I was awake at three this morning. When the clock approached four and I was still lying in bed making mental lists for today, I got up, dressed, made coffee and started the day. Later, I'll be sorry. A nap has been added to that mental list.
Please continue to pray for all who have been affected by the storms and for those who remain in danger. Pray also for our family as each of us adjust to the challenges ahead. We pray, knowing that God is in charge and that He will go before us in "triumphant procession."
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Sitting in front of the computer and the TV; learning about flood conditions, when and where the River will crest; seeing the fleeing deer and the water moccasins up close and personal tends to make one anxious. Liz's parents have prepared to evacuate their home in Louisiana, just across the River from Natchez. Still they wait and pray and we wait and pray with them. Last night there was news that the crest had come to Memphis and that some of the towns in Northwestern Tennessee have begun to dry out. Water, so necessary to life, can also be very deadly.
The repair man worked diligently with his crew four days last week. As it happens, he found a few more things to fix than what I put on the original list and there were a few other "flies in the ointment" as well. Installing a new kitchen sink turned from a simple task to a two day undertaking. I lost count of how many trips Ricky made to Lowe's to get additional pipes and joints because the original plumbing seemed to have been pieced together. After two days of having no water in the kitchen, the sink was pronounced ready and the water turned back on. Unfortunately, it was not ready. The dishwasher woundn't fill , nor would the icemaker, then we discovered leaks. Finally, yesterday afternoon Ricky came back, turned the right knobs, found the leak and I was back in business. The three window ledges are pending and I think I still have a leak somewhere in the front porch roof. Surely, you remember telling your children, like our parents told you: Anything worth doing is worth doing right. Whoever "repaired" things before we got here, didn't know that instruction!
The weekend was busy. I was up by five Saturday morning to make final preparations for the yard sale. At the end of the day I told Liz that I wasn't sure it was worth the effort and she began naming the things accomplished. We forced ourselves to get rid of things, which in turn helped to organize packing efforts and what wasn't sold was picked up at the end of the day and we didn't have to deal with those things again. Those who pick up for the Paralyzed Veterans Assn. were already scheduled to stop here this morning to get clothing I had to donate.
It was Youth Sunday at church--the best service of that type I have ever attended and I've experienced MANY in my lifetime. Everyone in the group had at least one part in leading worship. Grandson Jacob accompanied on his guitar for the youth songs and for the offertory he played an arrangement of "This is My Father's World" and "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" on alto saxophone. People were blessed by his offering of music and Mom, Dad and Maw Maw were beaming through our tears. Tom would have been "busting his buttons." Later in the day I visited on Skype with Marty and the two boys and went to Tommy's for Mother's Day supper. Praise God for two wonderful children and eight special grandchildren.
I taught my last lesson for my circle yesterday. For me, it was a bit sad. Anyone who has ever shared God's Word in such a setting feels a special bond with those who come. I have been the Bible leader for the past two years and in the process we have come to know each other better, shared faith stories and learned together. What a blessing those ladies have been to me!
Now, I focus on packing, packing, packing. I was awake at three this morning. When the clock approached four and I was still lying in bed making mental lists for today, I got up, dressed, made coffee and started the day. Later, I'll be sorry. A nap has been added to that mental list.
Please continue to pray for all who have been affected by the storms and for those who remain in danger. Pray also for our family as each of us adjust to the challenges ahead. We pray, knowing that God is in charge and that He will go before us in "triumphant procession."
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
How High's the Water, Mama?
Those words from a Johnny Cash song are being repeated over and over all along the Mississippi River and its tributaries these days. Many areas have been evacuated, others are just feet from having their entire towns under water. Six feet high and rising goes the song and all we can do is move to higher ground, if possible. Where we live in Jackson, there is no danger, but we have friends and family, including Liz's parents who live just across The River from Natchez, who are watching and praying.
We have finally had a few sunny, dry days and work could begin and move forward on my house. A nice young teacher from the school where Liz teaches came two days over the weekend to trim shrubs and cut out volunteer trees in the beds. Today the man to do minor repairs on the house began his work and none too soon. When the storm windows were removed he discovered I had three rotten window ledges. Hopefully, tomorrow all the trim can be painted, the ledges replaced and painted and the window put back on. Other than having to paint the living room ceiling, nothing else will be that time consuming.
This weekend we are having a moving sale, then all my attention can be focused on packing. The first weekend in June will be here before we know it! We are still praying that Liz will get a job in the school district where we'll be living.
Several years ago a friend showed us pictures of a clear stream and told us it was the origin of the Mississippi River. I was amazed to see transparent water, calm and soothing as it bubbled out of the ground and began its journey southward. I thought of how it changed along the way. It grew wider, more forceful and muddier and muddier. Spring rains brought flooding in low lying areas, but the effects of the flooding made rich soil even richer. Some years farmers would be late planting, cutting the growing season short. Other years those same farmers might have bumper crops. People in the delta regions had an almost Epicurious attitude: "Eat, drink and be merry, because there might not be a crop next year."
In California, our friends John and Peggy, invited us to visit them at their cabin at McCloud. One afternoon we were driving around, visiting the sights and while in Mt. Shasta we stopped at a park to let the dog play and stretch her legs. (I don't know who had a better time playing in the park, Tom or the dog.) Peg and I walked over to a bubling spring, much like the picture I had seen of the origin of the Mississippi. This spring was the origin of the Sacramento River. Again, I was amazed to see something so clear and pure, all the while remembering what the Sacramento looked like as it made its way toward the sea. I told Peg that one day I would use what I had seen and the process of the river growing and changing as a sermon illustration. I have yet to do that.
The Bible is full of water stories: God holding back the Red Sea for the Israelites to cross on dry land; Jonah being thrown overboard and being protected in the belly of the whale; and how could we leave out Noah, his adventure on the Ark and the promise God made to never destroy the earth by water again? Water is essential for life--but not just any water. It has to be pure, safe for us to drink. Contaminated water brings sickness and death to many. Water is life giving, but can be one of the most dangerous forces in nature. One day I will preach that sermon using the origins and journeys the rivers take. In the meantime, I will ponder how life and the events of life mimic the characteristics of the waters of the world. Mostly, I'll be ever so mindful of the One who brings us streams of Living Waters.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Those words from a Johnny Cash song are being repeated over and over all along the Mississippi River and its tributaries these days. Many areas have been evacuated, others are just feet from having their entire towns under water. Six feet high and rising goes the song and all we can do is move to higher ground, if possible. Where we live in Jackson, there is no danger, but we have friends and family, including Liz's parents who live just across The River from Natchez, who are watching and praying.
We have finally had a few sunny, dry days and work could begin and move forward on my house. A nice young teacher from the school where Liz teaches came two days over the weekend to trim shrubs and cut out volunteer trees in the beds. Today the man to do minor repairs on the house began his work and none too soon. When the storm windows were removed he discovered I had three rotten window ledges. Hopefully, tomorrow all the trim can be painted, the ledges replaced and painted and the window put back on. Other than having to paint the living room ceiling, nothing else will be that time consuming.
This weekend we are having a moving sale, then all my attention can be focused on packing. The first weekend in June will be here before we know it! We are still praying that Liz will get a job in the school district where we'll be living.
Several years ago a friend showed us pictures of a clear stream and told us it was the origin of the Mississippi River. I was amazed to see transparent water, calm and soothing as it bubbled out of the ground and began its journey southward. I thought of how it changed along the way. It grew wider, more forceful and muddier and muddier. Spring rains brought flooding in low lying areas, but the effects of the flooding made rich soil even richer. Some years farmers would be late planting, cutting the growing season short. Other years those same farmers might have bumper crops. People in the delta regions had an almost Epicurious attitude: "Eat, drink and be merry, because there might not be a crop next year."
In California, our friends John and Peggy, invited us to visit them at their cabin at McCloud. One afternoon we were driving around, visiting the sights and while in Mt. Shasta we stopped at a park to let the dog play and stretch her legs. (I don't know who had a better time playing in the park, Tom or the dog.) Peg and I walked over to a bubling spring, much like the picture I had seen of the origin of the Mississippi. This spring was the origin of the Sacramento River. Again, I was amazed to see something so clear and pure, all the while remembering what the Sacramento looked like as it made its way toward the sea. I told Peg that one day I would use what I had seen and the process of the river growing and changing as a sermon illustration. I have yet to do that.
The Bible is full of water stories: God holding back the Red Sea for the Israelites to cross on dry land; Jonah being thrown overboard and being protected in the belly of the whale; and how could we leave out Noah, his adventure on the Ark and the promise God made to never destroy the earth by water again? Water is essential for life--but not just any water. It has to be pure, safe for us to drink. Contaminated water brings sickness and death to many. Water is life giving, but can be one of the most dangerous forces in nature. One day I will preach that sermon using the origins and journeys the rivers take. In the meantime, I will ponder how life and the events of life mimic the characteristics of the waters of the world. Mostly, I'll be ever so mindful of the One who brings us streams of Living Waters.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Thursday, April 28, 2011
In case you're wondering . . .
*The sun is shining - - beautifully! All week the weather folks have reminded viewers that seeing sunshine between the waves of storms was not good because it warmed the atmosphere, contributing to the threat of more storms. Today the sunshine is a good thing!
*The monster storm that roared through Tuscaloosa is not what loyal 'Bama fans have in mind when they yell, "Roll Tide." A couple of FB friends have posted videos of the tornado moving through town--scary picture!
*Not to be undone, Oxford, MS, where Ole Miss is located, has reported a lot of damage there. Earlier in the rash of storms, Starkville, home of Mississippi State had damage. I'm seeing a little SEC theme here. Point being: don't plan a college tour of SEC schools during tornado season.
*Speaking of "seasons," a reporter on a Memphis TV station said this morning that May is "tornado month." Didn't know that. Do know that hurricane season comes next and we're moving eighty miles from the Gulf Coast.
*"Moving" and related activites are uppermost in thought and mind. The storms have put a halt to things that need to be done to ready the house and yard. That, of course, means the house has yet to be put on the market. Meanwhile, packing continues. You might think a wayward storm has been through every room.
*I also have one of my favorite events in heart and mind this weekend--the annual FOPC Women's Retreat. How I wish I could be present!!! My last was in 2006, a most special retreat for me and my daughter. It was an event designed by God to help prepare me for a difficult trek "through the wilderness." That's just one of the reasons the weekend is special. Add that to the fellowship of Christian sisters, sharing and praising God; the fun and laughter; the beauty of the surroundings and you have an indescribable spiritual blessing. Remembering helps today to keep my focus on our mighty God who leads us through the wilderness. He is the God who calmed my fears during the recent storms. Life is a series of wilderness wanderings, a series of storms, but God gives peace when "our minds are stayed on Him." I'm praying for you, ladies, as you travel and attend the retreat.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
*The sun is shining - - beautifully! All week the weather folks have reminded viewers that seeing sunshine between the waves of storms was not good because it warmed the atmosphere, contributing to the threat of more storms. Today the sunshine is a good thing!
*The monster storm that roared through Tuscaloosa is not what loyal 'Bama fans have in mind when they yell, "Roll Tide." A couple of FB friends have posted videos of the tornado moving through town--scary picture!
*Not to be undone, Oxford, MS, where Ole Miss is located, has reported a lot of damage there. Earlier in the rash of storms, Starkville, home of Mississippi State had damage. I'm seeing a little SEC theme here. Point being: don't plan a college tour of SEC schools during tornado season.
*Speaking of "seasons," a reporter on a Memphis TV station said this morning that May is "tornado month." Didn't know that. Do know that hurricane season comes next and we're moving eighty miles from the Gulf Coast.
*"Moving" and related activites are uppermost in thought and mind. The storms have put a halt to things that need to be done to ready the house and yard. That, of course, means the house has yet to be put on the market. Meanwhile, packing continues. You might think a wayward storm has been through every room.
*I also have one of my favorite events in heart and mind this weekend--the annual FOPC Women's Retreat. How I wish I could be present!!! My last was in 2006, a most special retreat for me and my daughter. It was an event designed by God to help prepare me for a difficult trek "through the wilderness." That's just one of the reasons the weekend is special. Add that to the fellowship of Christian sisters, sharing and praising God; the fun and laughter; the beauty of the surroundings and you have an indescribable spiritual blessing. Remembering helps today to keep my focus on our mighty God who leads us through the wilderness. He is the God who calmed my fears during the recent storms. Life is a series of wilderness wanderings, a series of storms, but God gives peace when "our minds are stayed on Him." I'm praying for you, ladies, as you travel and attend the retreat.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sunday's almost here . . .
Soon it will be the Day of Resurrection, the day we declare that Jesus Christ is risen! But there are many who do not celebrate for this reason. It will be one of few days that people attend worship services. It will be a day that celebrated Spring and new life. Bunnies and eggs take center stage. Families gather around tables laden with food, children are decked out in their finest, Aunt Susie and Uncle Ralph bring deviled eggs and other goodies. It's easy for the reason for Easter be hidden, just like the golden egg. As you celebrate, remember to pray for those who not know the One whose resurrection is brings new life.
I was touched this morning by a post on Marty's FB page and tried all day to get the link to work so I could share. I learned from my cousin this evening that she had seen it on Marty's blog and, finally, I am able to share. The song is Patty Griffin's "Mary," and brings to mind the grief she experienced at watching her son, our Savior, suffer and die. It reminds us of the gracious sacrifice of His life. How grateful I am! Follow this link to www.canapesun.blogspot.com. "Mary" is at the end of her post.
Have a most blessed Easter!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Soon it will be the Day of Resurrection, the day we declare that Jesus Christ is risen! But there are many who do not celebrate for this reason. It will be one of few days that people attend worship services. It will be a day that celebrated Spring and new life. Bunnies and eggs take center stage. Families gather around tables laden with food, children are decked out in their finest, Aunt Susie and Uncle Ralph bring deviled eggs and other goodies. It's easy for the reason for Easter be hidden, just like the golden egg. As you celebrate, remember to pray for those who not know the One whose resurrection is brings new life.
I was touched this morning by a post on Marty's FB page and tried all day to get the link to work so I could share. I learned from my cousin this evening that she had seen it on Marty's blog and, finally, I am able to share. The song is Patty Griffin's "Mary," and brings to mind the grief she experienced at watching her son, our Savior, suffer and die. It reminds us of the gracious sacrifice of His life. How grateful I am! Follow this link to www.canapesun.blogspot.com. "Mary" is at the end of her post.
Have a most blessed Easter!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Monday, April 18, 2011
Broken Silence . . . Please forgive the cluttered look of the last two blogs. I space between paragraphs, but when I post, the words are all run together. I have no idea what I'm doing wrong!!! Some things are moving forward. Others are not. There seems to be something new to do every day concerning the buying and selling of two properties. Later this evening I have to complete paperwork for the mortgage folks and I'm sort of clueless! I met with a realtor who will be listing my present residence over the weekend. He was such a help and was encouraging. Now I must find someone to do some yard work to improve the curb appeal, get in touch with a handy man to do some miscellaneous chores, find one room where we can store boxes that are packed, conduct a yard sale and put the house on the market. Income taxes were prepared, but there is some strange problem with Tom's SSN. So, instead of being able to e-file, they had to be sent to me to mail manually--most inconveniet for all involved. Hopefully, my dear friend and CPA way out there in California will be able to get to the bottom of things for me. Both Liz and I are packing boxes and Tommy is working on his office at the church. The days are not long enough. I'd be way behind if I didn't have Delora to help me. She has been such a Godsend for us! She and Tom had a special relationship; they loved each other; he trusted her and I trusted her to care for him. I wonder what I will do without her. She is not only my helper, but my friend. The recent storms in my hometown area of Jackson, MS and in Raleigh where Marty and her family live have been frightening. Today's forecast is for another severe breakout tomorrow night and early Wednesday morning. When the thunder awakened me Friday morning and the sirens began about an hour later, I wasn't sure if I should get in the inside bathroom or stay in the bed an pray. Without Tom, I was more frightened--yet one more thing for which I relied on him to tell me what to do next. Last Monday I visited a podiatrist to get answers about a big toe and to seek relief. Right away, he said I had a staff infection and that the nail was digging into the toe--a direct result of a chemo drug I haven't been on in two years. Long story short, he removed a sliver of the nail and the difference in that toe has been remarkable. I went this morning for a follow up and was happy to hear that unless I had any unexpected problems I didn't have to return. Bad news is that healing will take five or six more weeks. Considering how long it has hurt and how long I have limped on it, I don't mind the length of time it will take to heal. Yesterday I worshiped in Humboldt and stayed for the luncheon that followed. It was the first I had been there since Tom and I visited the week before Christmas and I dreaded go in without him. He and I love the people so much and he thought of the church as "his" place of worship. Miss Tennessee offered special music as did one of the young girls of the church and all were moved to tears. The service closed with the most beautiful vocal arrangement of "How Great Thou Art" that I have ever heard. As I listened and reflected on words of praise from Revelation that the pastor read, my tears flowed freely. I can only imagine what it will be like to be in God's presence, but Tom is experiencing that now. I felt really selfish wanting him to be here with me when he's living where he is. Grief and sorrow deepen more with every passing day, yet I still thank God for the days we did have and for the gift of such a special love in my life. My friend Linda, who is Liz's mom replied to an e-mail I sent her with saying: "We have an awesome God who always goes before us." That is my belief, but it's always good to be reminded. "He goes before us in triumphant procession." In this week of profound sorrow that leads to a profound expression of grace and unconditional love. join Christians everywhere as we proclaim: Jesus Christ is Lord. Blessings, Pastor Margaret
Saturday, April 09, 2011
A day of memories . . . But first, I must correct an error in the previous post. I said that Tommy told us that "he would move without us," but that is the fartherest thing from the truth. He insisted that if we didn't move, he wouldn't move. That's why God's timing was so perfect. After watching a bit of the Memphis news station this morning, I turned off the TV and turned on the stereo. At some times I avoid certain CD's and at others, I play our favorites and bask in all the memories. Our taste covered a lot of the music world--from bluegrass to folk songs; from symphonic to choral; from Frank Sinatra to John Denver. Tom loved marches. One of his all time faves was "Pomp and Pizazz," played by Eric Kuntzle (sp.?) and the Cincinnati Pops. In fact, he played it so much we wore out the first copy and we were on the second. He liked nothing more than when Tommy and Marty's friends came to our house for the first time, than to ask if they would like to hear his marches. Of course, they had to say "Yes." Then he would put on that CD, turn up the volume and the "Olympic Fanfare" could be heard all over the neighborhood. As I sat, knitting and listening to quiter things this morning, I couldn't help but feel the big, empty void in my heart. I tried to fill it with memories we shared and realized how fast the years pass, how much we seemed to leave undone. After lunch I dressed and went to a baby shower for one of Tom's former caregivers. On the way I noticed new bright green signs in several yards, replacing the "Jesus" signs with one that says "Hope." On the way home I saw a billboard with the same four letter word. How appropriate, especially this time of year! Jesus is our Hope. Because of His sacrifice, we have hope beyond the grave. Because of His life, we have hope to live every moment trusting in God's moment by moment blessings. Because of Hope, I know I will be with Tom again. I don't know how; I don't know what he will look like; I don't know about eternity, but I trust in that Hope. A special, special friend from California called this morning. He chaired the committee that called me to Fair Oaks church and he and his late wife became family to us. We haven't talked since Tom died; neither of us wanted to cry together on the phone, but today we talked, sharing our tears and the sorrow of lost spouses. The memories of how we became friends, their coming to Mississippi to participate in my ordination, the relationship the four of us had replaced some of the void I felt. I trust it did the same for him. The week has been busy with business details and packing. Still, I took a day to go with two friends for a knitting lesson in Memphis. We all needed it for the various projects we have going! I really miss Tom when trying to work on all the endless business details. Finally, the correct marriage liscense arrived and I was able to tend to the Socail Security, thinking all the while that it would take another two months for them to respond. I was pleasantly surprised to find deposits in the bank the very next day! Income tax info was mailed to my friend and CPA. You probably heard my sigh of relief! I was happy about the things I had learned from Tom about pulling everything together, but when it came time to mail, I realized I hadn't learned enough. I miss Tom's wise counsel. On the other hand, there is another memory that makes both Tommy and me chuckle. Tom was not a "fix-it" kind of guy. As long as he lived, Dad was the person we all went to when something needed fixing. Neither, did Tom enjoy woodworking; Dad did. Tommy fixes things, does projects around the house and enjoys restoring furniture, all of which he learned from watching his granddaddy. He called earlier and told me he almost went this morning to purchase a new weed eater, but decided instead to take it apart to see if he could fix it. He found a bent washer, replaced it with a new one (from supplies he got from Dad's shop) and it works like new. I told him that I hoped Jacob was learning from him and the trait Tommy got from his granddaddy would pass directly to Jacob, not skipping a generation like it did with him. He laughed and I'm sure lots of memories flooded his mind as they did mine. In defense of Tom, he did take on projects that needed doing, attacking them with all his might--he just didn't like to. Memories are one of God's most gracious and healing gifts. I have enough to last a lifetime! Blessings, Pastor Margaret
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Catching up . . . As I said in the last post, this is my first March Madness without Tom. It's not quite the same. I've been watching the semi-finals today and I know he'd be pulling for, not Kentucky, but the SEC. There is no one sitting in his chair and no one cheering or clapping his hands, but I can imagine him and his responses. I thought on Thursday as I sat in the clinic in Memphis waiting on all the various things for which I was there, how much I missed him. I had never gone to an appointment in Memphis without him and I had to bite my lip to not cry, especially in the examining room while waiting for the doctor. I knew he would be holding my hand, silently praying and telling me that everything would be all right. I could only imagine. And always, before we left that room we would pray aloud, thanking God for continued mercies. This time I prayed alone. I will always miss him. The little things still make me sad. I was in Memphis Thursday for an evaluation and received good news. Dr. Reed is pleased with my response to the oral chemo once a day as opposed to being infused every other week. The new system allows me to maintain my energy level. The scans indicated no change in the disease: no improvement, but no increased activity either. Praise God! Tommy has accepted a call to be the Director of Discipleship at the Westminster Presbyterian Church in Hattiesburg, MS. He will also apply for his counseling liscense in Mississippi and help begin a counseling ministry at the church. God's timing, as always, is absolutely perfect. Tom and I have encouraged him all along to be open to this call ever since it became a blip on his radar last summer, but we believed that we were not able to move with him. He continued to insist that he would move without us and we prayed for God to open the door and for Tommy to be obedient. The official phone call came the Sunday we were coming home from Tom's service. Liz, Sarah and I went to find a house(s) during Spring Break and found the perfect setting. Again, the hand of God was present and so visible. We found a place on ten acres, in the best school district, with a guest house behind the main house. We know it was the answer to many prayers offered on our behalf!! Now, we are praying for a teaching position for Liz, to sell both our houses here and to work out the details of the move the first week in June. My oncologist made a referral for me to see who he calls the "guru in oncology" who teaches at the University of Mississipi Medical School in Jackson and who also has private patients. Dr. Reed added that this doctor "knows ovarian cancer like the back of his hand," high praise coming from him. Thursday my appointment was made--another answer to prayer. I begin seeing him in June. So often we look back on our lives and remark how we can see how God was present in the midst of events. We have been blessed to see daily how God is at work--in all circumstances. There was much to share tonight. I pray that you, too, might be encouraged in your Christian walk and that you might trust God for all your needs. He is ever faithful! Blessings, Pastor Margaret
Friday, March 18, 2011
God makes all things new . . .
That's a truth to grasp and hold tightly. I am trying to learn to balance new adjustments with memories. On the way to pick up Jacob at school this afternoon, I noticed a park where Tom and I had intended to have a picnic. It was only an intention--never reality. For a moment it made me sad to be reminded of one more thing that we had intended, but never did. That sadness was replaced by memories of picnics we did take--spontaneous ones and ones we planned. I've tried not to dwell on how we envisioned our retirement and the way it really was. I try to center on the all the good memories and know they are too numerous to count. I try to remember that all of life is meant to glorify God and trust Him to lead my steps.
That doesn't mean it is easy to get redirected after all these years, especially when several of those years have been taken up with caregiving. I have heard it said that one difficult adjustment is knowing what to do with the time freed up when the caregiving stops. Now I know that's true. Today much of my time is consumed with business matters. I should have kept a record of how many hours I've spent on the phone. Monday I went to circle in the morning, ate lunch with friends, got home at two and spent the next three hours trying to unravel a couple of problems. Another day I spent at least two hours trying to locate the marriage liscense, finally deciding it would be easier to send for a certified copy. Insurance was filed with an incorrect number for several claims and that necessitated getting that changed and trying to find out who was responsible. That mystery has yet to be solved. More problems. One important thing to learn from this is not to get so caught up with busy work that I don't deal with the issues at hand. Another thing is to keep good records and know where things are!
Today was a Corinth day for labs and the Avastin infusion. That doesn't take long and we were through with lunch and on the road home by about 1:15 p.m. Sunday Liz, Sarah and I are headed to Hattiesburg, MS on a new adventure. I'll say more about that later.
Tom is always in my heart and on my mind. Everything reminds me of him. Sometimes I laugh when I think of what his response might be to a situation; other times I wish I could ask him where he put something. This is my first March Madness without him and that seems odd. After all, he is the one who taught me to love college basketball. There sits Charles Barkley making comments on the game just played and I remember watching him lumber down the court when he played for Auburn against Mississippi State. Memories are good, but only if we remain alert to what new thing God might be doing.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
That's a truth to grasp and hold tightly. I am trying to learn to balance new adjustments with memories. On the way to pick up Jacob at school this afternoon, I noticed a park where Tom and I had intended to have a picnic. It was only an intention--never reality. For a moment it made me sad to be reminded of one more thing that we had intended, but never did. That sadness was replaced by memories of picnics we did take--spontaneous ones and ones we planned. I've tried not to dwell on how we envisioned our retirement and the way it really was. I try to center on the all the good memories and know they are too numerous to count. I try to remember that all of life is meant to glorify God and trust Him to lead my steps.
That doesn't mean it is easy to get redirected after all these years, especially when several of those years have been taken up with caregiving. I have heard it said that one difficult adjustment is knowing what to do with the time freed up when the caregiving stops. Now I know that's true. Today much of my time is consumed with business matters. I should have kept a record of how many hours I've spent on the phone. Monday I went to circle in the morning, ate lunch with friends, got home at two and spent the next three hours trying to unravel a couple of problems. Another day I spent at least two hours trying to locate the marriage liscense, finally deciding it would be easier to send for a certified copy. Insurance was filed with an incorrect number for several claims and that necessitated getting that changed and trying to find out who was responsible. That mystery has yet to be solved. More problems. One important thing to learn from this is not to get so caught up with busy work that I don't deal with the issues at hand. Another thing is to keep good records and know where things are!
Today was a Corinth day for labs and the Avastin infusion. That doesn't take long and we were through with lunch and on the road home by about 1:15 p.m. Sunday Liz, Sarah and I are headed to Hattiesburg, MS on a new adventure. I'll say more about that later.
Tom is always in my heart and on my mind. Everything reminds me of him. Sometimes I laugh when I think of what his response might be to a situation; other times I wish I could ask him where he put something. This is my first March Madness without him and that seems odd. After all, he is the one who taught me to love college basketball. There sits Charles Barkley making comments on the game just played and I remember watching him lumber down the court when he played for Auburn against Mississippi State. Memories are good, but only if we remain alert to what new thing God might be doing.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Good Days . . .
Last weekend was GLOOMY. Outside the weather was gray and cold, just plain gloomy. Inside, I was every bit as gloomy. I didn't raise the shades all day on Saturday and other than a quick trip to pick up a prescription I didn't leave the house. A friend from the church came by late in the afternoon to bring homemade soup and pimento cheese. That was the day's only bright spot. I didn't feel sorry for myself, but did allow myself to be sad and lonely and tell God just how I felt. He listened, just as He always does. Sunday I woke up too late to get to church on time--it was still rainy and cold. Late that afternoon I went to Tommy and Liz's for supper and the gloom lifted. When I walked in Tommy said, "Mom, you don't look like you feel well," so I told him about my gloomy two days, plus the fact that I felt silly about them. His reply was: "So, you think you're Wonder Woman and get through the stages of grief in three weeks?" Enter Meredith, who gave me a big hug and continued to give me hugs when she thought I needed one throughout the evening. The two of them broke through the gloom.
I have learned that it's perfectly all right, and perfectly natural, to be sad. There would be something wrong with me if I didn't feel lonely. Sometimes I can see Tom sitting across from me and hear him when his wisdom is needed and feel his hand in mine offering comfort in a single touch. After all, he is and will always be in my heart. I remember the message of the story I related in my last blog. God understands the pain of losing a loved one. God loved Tom even more than I; He loves me and He will heal the pain. Those are the facts. I pray that God will make them a part of me.
This weekend is bright and beautiful--no gloom in sight. Yesterday I went to Memphis with two friends. We shopped at a wonderful grocery store, went to Penzey's Spices, had a two hour knitting lesson, ate lunch and were home by four. All three of us declared that we didn't know when we had laughed as much!. I bought veal loin chops with the condition that Tommy create something delicious. He didn't let us down. Last night we had veal chops on a bed of Charleston grits, smothered with a mushroom gravy. What a feast! The only low point in the day was watching Mississippi State lose in the SEC tourney.
The knitting lesson was so much fun. I haven't knit in at least twenty years and decided to pick it up again. One particular chemo drug has created permanent numbness in my feet and fingers and off and on pain in my toes. The numbness in my fingers makes most needlework difficult and I thought knitting might be just what I needed to try. I miss not having a project in progress. A customer in the shop told me she had some kind of arthiritis in her hands and fingers and that the knitting actually was therapeutic for her. When I first picked up the needles, they felt like telephone poles in my hands, but once the teacher got me started things began coming back to me. I'm going to love my renewed activity--especially with great friends who will knit alongside me.
Speaking of the lady in the shop who told me of her hand and finger problems, God has brought many women who have either spoken a word or two about their experience with widow-hood or people like a dear California friend who wrote and told me a story that I had never known about her life, her experience with grief and how God has provided for her in every aspect of her life. Sometimes when we share something of ourselves with others we may think we are merely saying words, but the Holy Spirit uses those words in ways we cannot even imagine. I am blessed to have friends who care and who take the time to share with me.
The rest of today will be busy with a little cooking, attending a memorial service at the church and studying for two circles I'm teaching on Monday. There is plenty to keep me busy. I must not forget to be still in God's presence. He will keep me in perfect peace---in the midst of any and everything.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Last weekend was GLOOMY. Outside the weather was gray and cold, just plain gloomy. Inside, I was every bit as gloomy. I didn't raise the shades all day on Saturday and other than a quick trip to pick up a prescription I didn't leave the house. A friend from the church came by late in the afternoon to bring homemade soup and pimento cheese. That was the day's only bright spot. I didn't feel sorry for myself, but did allow myself to be sad and lonely and tell God just how I felt. He listened, just as He always does. Sunday I woke up too late to get to church on time--it was still rainy and cold. Late that afternoon I went to Tommy and Liz's for supper and the gloom lifted. When I walked in Tommy said, "Mom, you don't look like you feel well," so I told him about my gloomy two days, plus the fact that I felt silly about them. His reply was: "So, you think you're Wonder Woman and get through the stages of grief in three weeks?" Enter Meredith, who gave me a big hug and continued to give me hugs when she thought I needed one throughout the evening. The two of them broke through the gloom.
I have learned that it's perfectly all right, and perfectly natural, to be sad. There would be something wrong with me if I didn't feel lonely. Sometimes I can see Tom sitting across from me and hear him when his wisdom is needed and feel his hand in mine offering comfort in a single touch. After all, he is and will always be in my heart. I remember the message of the story I related in my last blog. God understands the pain of losing a loved one. God loved Tom even more than I; He loves me and He will heal the pain. Those are the facts. I pray that God will make them a part of me.
This weekend is bright and beautiful--no gloom in sight. Yesterday I went to Memphis with two friends. We shopped at a wonderful grocery store, went to Penzey's Spices, had a two hour knitting lesson, ate lunch and were home by four. All three of us declared that we didn't know when we had laughed as much!. I bought veal loin chops with the condition that Tommy create something delicious. He didn't let us down. Last night we had veal chops on a bed of Charleston grits, smothered with a mushroom gravy. What a feast! The only low point in the day was watching Mississippi State lose in the SEC tourney.
The knitting lesson was so much fun. I haven't knit in at least twenty years and decided to pick it up again. One particular chemo drug has created permanent numbness in my feet and fingers and off and on pain in my toes. The numbness in my fingers makes most needlework difficult and I thought knitting might be just what I needed to try. I miss not having a project in progress. A customer in the shop told me she had some kind of arthiritis in her hands and fingers and that the knitting actually was therapeutic for her. When I first picked up the needles, they felt like telephone poles in my hands, but once the teacher got me started things began coming back to me. I'm going to love my renewed activity--especially with great friends who will knit alongside me.
Speaking of the lady in the shop who told me of her hand and finger problems, God has brought many women who have either spoken a word or two about their experience with widow-hood or people like a dear California friend who wrote and told me a story that I had never known about her life, her experience with grief and how God has provided for her in every aspect of her life. Sometimes when we share something of ourselves with others we may think we are merely saying words, but the Holy Spirit uses those words in ways we cannot even imagine. I am blessed to have friends who care and who take the time to share with me.
The rest of today will be busy with a little cooking, attending a memorial service at the church and studying for two circles I'm teaching on Monday. There is plenty to keep me busy. I must not forget to be still in God's presence. He will keep me in perfect peace---in the midst of any and everything.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Friday, March 04, 2011
February . . .
Finally, the days turned into March. February seemed four years long, rather than four weeks. It has always been recognized in our family as a month full of joyful events: an Army leave that began on the eighth, leading to an official engagement on the thirteenth, a wedding five days later on the eighteenth and six years after that the birth of a beautiful baby girl. Tom and I had much to celebrate. This year I celebrated without him. He died on the seventh. I wondered if the month would ever end. Would the end of the month and the beginning of another lessen my grief? It didn't. If anything, it seems to grow with every passing day.
A friend sent me book one in Kenneth Haugk's series, A Time to Grieve. Two of the quotes he uses describe a bit of how I feel. When we lose someone we have loved deeply, we are left with a grief that can paralyze us emotionally. . . . When they die a part of us dies too (Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey) and this one from Aldolfo Quezada: My tears are the words with which I tell God of my pain.
Sometimes I feel numb and my mind is blank. Still, little things bring tears, things like sitting in church and suddenly realizing that Tom won't sit with me again. Yesterday I emptied his daily pill container of the dose he would have taken the afternoon that he fell. For the first time since his fall I felt completely exhausted and had to make myself put one foot in front of the other. Back at our usual Thursday Bible Study, I couldn't keep my eyes away from the place where he last sat. He is physically gone and a large part of me has gone with him.
Last night I let the tears flow freely. Maybe it was a part of the exhaustion. I don't know, but that was the first time for that as well. Until now there have been plenty of teary times, but nothing like last night's release. This morning I read the above quote: My tears are the words with which I tell God of my pain.
The peace comes in knowing that God understands the pain; God cares. Several weeks ago I received an e-mail story about a little boy who called into a Christian radio talk show to tell something he had learned. He had been eagerly awaiting the birth of a calf which he would raise as his own and was overjoyed when the big day came. Somehow, in the process of birth and the immediate aftermath, the cow fell on the newborn calf and broke it's back. It was necessary for the calf to be put down and the little boy, sad as he was, said he would do what had to be done. When everything was over he thought about what had just happened and be began to pray. His thoughts turned to God's sacrifice of Jesus for us; he thought of the love God had for His only Son, a love so much greater than any we could possibly feel for another. He thought of the heart of God and how it must have been broken when Jesus was put to death. And then he realized: GOD UNDERSTANDS my grief for this calf. God understands our pain.
That is a truth that brings peace in the midst of grief.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Finally, the days turned into March. February seemed four years long, rather than four weeks. It has always been recognized in our family as a month full of joyful events: an Army leave that began on the eighth, leading to an official engagement on the thirteenth, a wedding five days later on the eighteenth and six years after that the birth of a beautiful baby girl. Tom and I had much to celebrate. This year I celebrated without him. He died on the seventh. I wondered if the month would ever end. Would the end of the month and the beginning of another lessen my grief? It didn't. If anything, it seems to grow with every passing day.
A friend sent me book one in Kenneth Haugk's series, A Time to Grieve. Two of the quotes he uses describe a bit of how I feel. When we lose someone we have loved deeply, we are left with a grief that can paralyze us emotionally. . . . When they die a part of us dies too (Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey) and this one from Aldolfo Quezada: My tears are the words with which I tell God of my pain.
Sometimes I feel numb and my mind is blank. Still, little things bring tears, things like sitting in church and suddenly realizing that Tom won't sit with me again. Yesterday I emptied his daily pill container of the dose he would have taken the afternoon that he fell. For the first time since his fall I felt completely exhausted and had to make myself put one foot in front of the other. Back at our usual Thursday Bible Study, I couldn't keep my eyes away from the place where he last sat. He is physically gone and a large part of me has gone with him.
Last night I let the tears flow freely. Maybe it was a part of the exhaustion. I don't know, but that was the first time for that as well. Until now there have been plenty of teary times, but nothing like last night's release. This morning I read the above quote: My tears are the words with which I tell God of my pain.
The peace comes in knowing that God understands the pain; God cares. Several weeks ago I received an e-mail story about a little boy who called into a Christian radio talk show to tell something he had learned. He had been eagerly awaiting the birth of a calf which he would raise as his own and was overjoyed when the big day came. Somehow, in the process of birth and the immediate aftermath, the cow fell on the newborn calf and broke it's back. It was necessary for the calf to be put down and the little boy, sad as he was, said he would do what had to be done. When everything was over he thought about what had just happened and be began to pray. His thoughts turned to God's sacrifice of Jesus for us; he thought of the love God had for His only Son, a love so much greater than any we could possibly feel for another. He thought of the heart of God and how it must have been broken when Jesus was put to death. And then he realized: GOD UNDERSTANDS my grief for this calf. God understands our pain.
That is a truth that brings peace in the midst of grief.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Reminders . . .
Today I returned to Brown Bag Bible Study, the first time I've been there since Tom fell on January 6. It would have been easier to stay home. Afterward I went across the street to the hospital to see a special friend who also has ovarian cancer. As I drove into the parking garage, I suddenly realized I'd be visiting her on the same floor where Tom was in hospice care. I dreaded passing his room and was relieved when I exited the elevator and saw her room was the opposite direction. What is it about "little" things?
While Tom was in the hospital I not only spent a lot of time reading and studying the Scripture, but I also read Psalms to him. Psalm 8 particularly spoke to me. In fact, I chose it to be used as a call to worship at Tom's memorial service. One of the things that he and I shared was a Calvinistic interpretation of Scripture, beginning with the Sovereignty of God. For us, life was about glorifying God and trying to be obedient to Him. So, it was meaningful to pray through Psalm 8, acknowledging the majesty of God and realizing once again that our almighty, amazing God cares about His creation--and not just creation, but the individuals who have been created by His hand. What is man that God is mindful of him? In the midst of a crisis, it is of great comfort to think of that God and that He cared for Tom. Related to those thoughts were some I wrote in a journal on part of a verse in Daniel.
Tom loved the book of Daniel. It was his favorite book of the Bible, but I don't think he ever told me why. Perhaps it is the Sovereignty of God so evident throughout the book. Maybe he learned from God's faithful servant, Daniel. I reread Daniel one day, partly as reference material for a Revelation study and partly because of Tom.
There, in chapter 9, is the most reassuring of verses: We make requests (pray, plead) not because we are deserving but because God is merciful (Daniel 9:18b). What is man that God is mindful of him? We are welcome at the throne of grace, not because of anything we might bring, but because of who God is.
Tom was special in many ways, but anything he might have accomplished did not matter in God's sight. God didn't care about Tom's "Citizen of the Year" award in 8th grade, nor his security clearance in the military. God was not impressed by Tom's good manners nor his thoughtfulness. His accomplishments in this life were not the basis on which God was hearing our prayers. God heard, God answered because of His great mercy for His children.
That was true for Daniel; it was true for Tom. As the hymnwriter wrote: Nothing in my hand I bring; simply to Thy cross I cling. Every day, all during the day I would go, empty handed and clinging, pleading for God's mercies.
Thank you, Lord, for your mercies. Thank your for your care for your children.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Today I returned to Brown Bag Bible Study, the first time I've been there since Tom fell on January 6. It would have been easier to stay home. Afterward I went across the street to the hospital to see a special friend who also has ovarian cancer. As I drove into the parking garage, I suddenly realized I'd be visiting her on the same floor where Tom was in hospice care. I dreaded passing his room and was relieved when I exited the elevator and saw her room was the opposite direction. What is it about "little" things?
While Tom was in the hospital I not only spent a lot of time reading and studying the Scripture, but I also read Psalms to him. Psalm 8 particularly spoke to me. In fact, I chose it to be used as a call to worship at Tom's memorial service. One of the things that he and I shared was a Calvinistic interpretation of Scripture, beginning with the Sovereignty of God. For us, life was about glorifying God and trying to be obedient to Him. So, it was meaningful to pray through Psalm 8, acknowledging the majesty of God and realizing once again that our almighty, amazing God cares about His creation--and not just creation, but the individuals who have been created by His hand. What is man that God is mindful of him? In the midst of a crisis, it is of great comfort to think of that God and that He cared for Tom. Related to those thoughts were some I wrote in a journal on part of a verse in Daniel.
Tom loved the book of Daniel. It was his favorite book of the Bible, but I don't think he ever told me why. Perhaps it is the Sovereignty of God so evident throughout the book. Maybe he learned from God's faithful servant, Daniel. I reread Daniel one day, partly as reference material for a Revelation study and partly because of Tom.
There, in chapter 9, is the most reassuring of verses: We make requests (pray, plead) not because we are deserving but because God is merciful (Daniel 9:18b). What is man that God is mindful of him? We are welcome at the throne of grace, not because of anything we might bring, but because of who God is.
Tom was special in many ways, but anything he might have accomplished did not matter in God's sight. God didn't care about Tom's "Citizen of the Year" award in 8th grade, nor his security clearance in the military. God was not impressed by Tom's good manners nor his thoughtfulness. His accomplishments in this life were not the basis on which God was hearing our prayers. God heard, God answered because of His great mercy for His children.
That was true for Daniel; it was true for Tom. As the hymnwriter wrote: Nothing in my hand I bring; simply to Thy cross I cling. Every day, all during the day I would go, empty handed and clinging, pleading for God's mercies.
Thank you, Lord, for your mercies. Thank your for your care for your children.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Day of Reflection . . .
Forty four years ago today, I married the love of my life. He was my closest friend, my lover, my soul mate and my partner in every sense of the word. We had a six year "semi courtship," more off that on, partly because nearly three years of that time he was in Munich, Germany and I was stateside. We often laughed, remembering that I wrote him while he was there because I considered it my duty as an American citizen. When we did make a decision to marry we had no doubt but that it was God's plan, executed in God's time. Both of us were headstrong and it took some doing for us to learn to live together. Years passed, our love grew and neither of us could even imagine life with anyone else.
Two particular things helped to strengthen an already strong marriage. About twenty years ago I was introduced to a booklet by Ben Johnson entitled, An Adventure in Prayer. It was written to help people learn to pray more specifically and offered suggestions to guide your prayer life for thirty days. One of the suggestions was to remember the vows you have taken and recommit them to God. To the vows he suggested, I added baptismal and marriage vows. I began to meditate/pray about what I promised before God and to Tom on the day we married. I was particularly struck by the promises to love and honor him. Of course, I loved him, but how could I love him more? I asked God to put more love in my heart for Tom. What did it truly mean to honor my husband and how did that manifest itself? My eyes were opened to things I did and said that were not loving, nor honoring and I prayed for God to change me.
The second thing that made a difference, even after twenty plus years was a conversation I had with my son. He reminded me of words said to him and Elizabeth by Joe Rightmyer, the pastor who married them. (Joe is our friend who officiated at Tom's graveside and memorial services.) He encouraged them to cherish one another. That prompted me to ponder the word "cherish" and to think about how that works in a relationship. Often I would tell Tom, "I love you more today than yesterday and less than I will tomorrow." As I reflect on our life together, I know that remains true.
Today could have been a really sad day, but every time I felt myself getting sad, I would think of Meredith and her telling me that Paw Paw is in my heart. How right she is! I can no longer reach out and touch him. I realize, with great reluctance, a word I use often to describe other women, now describes me too. I am a widow. I had to get past today and with the help of my children I did. Tommy went with me to Corinth. Tonight he, Liz and I went out to eat and Marty called when I got home. They warmed my heart, made me laugh and cry. We talked about memories and we looked ahead. Tomorrow is a new day.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Forty four years ago today, I married the love of my life. He was my closest friend, my lover, my soul mate and my partner in every sense of the word. We had a six year "semi courtship," more off that on, partly because nearly three years of that time he was in Munich, Germany and I was stateside. We often laughed, remembering that I wrote him while he was there because I considered it my duty as an American citizen. When we did make a decision to marry we had no doubt but that it was God's plan, executed in God's time. Both of us were headstrong and it took some doing for us to learn to live together. Years passed, our love grew and neither of us could even imagine life with anyone else.
Two particular things helped to strengthen an already strong marriage. About twenty years ago I was introduced to a booklet by Ben Johnson entitled, An Adventure in Prayer. It was written to help people learn to pray more specifically and offered suggestions to guide your prayer life for thirty days. One of the suggestions was to remember the vows you have taken and recommit them to God. To the vows he suggested, I added baptismal and marriage vows. I began to meditate/pray about what I promised before God and to Tom on the day we married. I was particularly struck by the promises to love and honor him. Of course, I loved him, but how could I love him more? I asked God to put more love in my heart for Tom. What did it truly mean to honor my husband and how did that manifest itself? My eyes were opened to things I did and said that were not loving, nor honoring and I prayed for God to change me.
The second thing that made a difference, even after twenty plus years was a conversation I had with my son. He reminded me of words said to him and Elizabeth by Joe Rightmyer, the pastor who married them. (Joe is our friend who officiated at Tom's graveside and memorial services.) He encouraged them to cherish one another. That prompted me to ponder the word "cherish" and to think about how that works in a relationship. Often I would tell Tom, "I love you more today than yesterday and less than I will tomorrow." As I reflect on our life together, I know that remains true.
Today could have been a really sad day, but every time I felt myself getting sad, I would think of Meredith and her telling me that Paw Paw is in my heart. How right she is! I can no longer reach out and touch him. I realize, with great reluctance, a word I use often to describe other women, now describes me too. I am a widow. I had to get past today and with the help of my children I did. Tommy went with me to Corinth. Tonight he, Liz and I went out to eat and Marty called when I got home. They warmed my heart, made me laugh and cry. We talked about memories and we looked ahead. Tomorrow is a new day.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Saturday
We said our final goodbye to Tom on Saturday---or did we? Friends and family gathered at the graveside Saturday morning for the interment. It was a beautiful day, between 50 and 60 degrees, with the sun brightly shining. The minister, our friend Joe Rightmyer, spoke of hope, new life and the resurrection. Tom was buried with military honors and seeing that flag draped casket brought tears of pride to my eyes, as did the words of appreciation spoken to me by the young man from the Army as he presented the flag to me. Our grandchildren each took a yellow rose from me and laid it on the casket. Precious Meredith, held by her father, placed hers and said, "Goodbye Paw Paw." It was a dear moment.
The memorial service that afternoon was truly a witness to the resurrection and an uplifting worship service. It was everything Tom and I wanted it to be! Again, Joe's message was one that presented the gospel and gave glory to God. Special music was a jazzy arrangement of Amazing Grace, written and performed on clarinet by Marty's friend and major professor in college. The recessional was another arrangement of his for organ and clarinet for When the Saints Go Marching In." Both Joe's message of truth, hope and promise and the music put a smile on my face. In every way God was glorified.
Many friends came, offered condolences and shared memories. Each one was special and each has helped with the grieving process. We felt truly blessed by their presence.
There were a few things that could have marred the perfect day and weekend. Instead they reminded us that life goes on. Friday, Tommy, Jacob, Sarah and I left in one car and Marty, Kevin and the boys in another. Liz planned to drive down later in the day with a friend and the three other children. When they were all loaded, in the car and ready to leave, her car would not start. She called Tommy while we were eating lunch in Jackson, MS and he talked the friend through the directions to jump a battery. Saturday there was silence during the time "Taps" was to be played. We waited expectantly and watched as the soldier put his horn in the case and came to help fold the flag. The horn malfunctioned. And before we could leave the cemetery, Tommy and David, Tom's brother, had to change a tire on his rental car. We laughed, thinking of comments Tom, Jr. would have made.
The bottom line: the services honored a special man and gave glory to his God. I am blessed to have shared my life with that special man and he will always be in my heart.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
We said our final goodbye to Tom on Saturday---or did we? Friends and family gathered at the graveside Saturday morning for the interment. It was a beautiful day, between 50 and 60 degrees, with the sun brightly shining. The minister, our friend Joe Rightmyer, spoke of hope, new life and the resurrection. Tom was buried with military honors and seeing that flag draped casket brought tears of pride to my eyes, as did the words of appreciation spoken to me by the young man from the Army as he presented the flag to me. Our grandchildren each took a yellow rose from me and laid it on the casket. Precious Meredith, held by her father, placed hers and said, "Goodbye Paw Paw." It was a dear moment.
The memorial service that afternoon was truly a witness to the resurrection and an uplifting worship service. It was everything Tom and I wanted it to be! Again, Joe's message was one that presented the gospel and gave glory to God. Special music was a jazzy arrangement of Amazing Grace, written and performed on clarinet by Marty's friend and major professor in college. The recessional was another arrangement of his for organ and clarinet for When the Saints Go Marching In." Both Joe's message of truth, hope and promise and the music put a smile on my face. In every way God was glorified.
Many friends came, offered condolences and shared memories. Each one was special and each has helped with the grieving process. We felt truly blessed by their presence.
There were a few things that could have marred the perfect day and weekend. Instead they reminded us that life goes on. Friday, Tommy, Jacob, Sarah and I left in one car and Marty, Kevin and the boys in another. Liz planned to drive down later in the day with a friend and the three other children. When they were all loaded, in the car and ready to leave, her car would not start. She called Tommy while we were eating lunch in Jackson, MS and he talked the friend through the directions to jump a battery. Saturday there was silence during the time "Taps" was to be played. We waited expectantly and watched as the soldier put his horn in the case and came to help fold the flag. The horn malfunctioned. And before we could leave the cemetery, Tommy and David, Tom's brother, had to change a tire on his rental car. We laughed, thinking of comments Tom, Jr. would have made.
The bottom line: the services honored a special man and gave glory to his God. I am blessed to have shared my life with that special man and he will always be in my heart.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Plans
For those of you who have known Tom--always "Tommy" to me--it should come as no surprise that many plans for what would happen at the end of both of our lives were already documented. I am so thankful for that! An otherwise hard process of going through details of burial yesterday was made much easier by knowing what he wanted, what I wanted for him and the support and input of Tommy and Marty. Today I have a few errands, a few more phone calls to make and then plan to enjoy being with family.
There will be a graveside service at Lakewood Memorial Park at 11 a.m. Saturday, February 12, with the memorial service at Covenant Presbyterian Church, 4000 Ridgewood Rd. , Jackson, MS following at 2 p.m. Visitation will be after the service in the church parlor.
Thank you for the many expressions of sympathy, prayer support and the shared memories of Tom and how he touched your lives. I have always said that he, more than any other man I knew, was the man of Psalm 15.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
For those of you who have known Tom--always "Tommy" to me--it should come as no surprise that many plans for what would happen at the end of both of our lives were already documented. I am so thankful for that! An otherwise hard process of going through details of burial yesterday was made much easier by knowing what he wanted, what I wanted for him and the support and input of Tommy and Marty. Today I have a few errands, a few more phone calls to make and then plan to enjoy being with family.
There will be a graveside service at Lakewood Memorial Park at 11 a.m. Saturday, February 12, with the memorial service at Covenant Presbyterian Church, 4000 Ridgewood Rd. , Jackson, MS following at 2 p.m. Visitation will be after the service in the church parlor.
Thank you for the many expressions of sympathy, prayer support and the shared memories of Tom and how he touched your lives. I have always said that he, more than any other man I knew, was the man of Psalm 15.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Monday, February 07, 2011
A New Body . . . Safe in the Arms of Jesus
The dreaded day, the day for which I have hoped and prayed finally was today. Tom passed very peacefully about four this afternoon. The last several days I have sat by his bed, holding his hand, talking, telling him what's in the news, reading psalms, praying, singing. He has shown no real response since Thursday except for grimacing when he hurt, or having Parkinson type tics because he's not had any meds. One exception: the nurses have been swabbing his mouth with a special mouthwash several times a day and yesterday he wouldn't open his mouth. The nurse said for me to try if I saw an opening anytime during the day. He was like a little boy refusing to take his medicine, clinching his teeth together so I couldn't possibly get anything past his lips.
This morning I drove to the hospital in the most beautiful snow. The flakes were big and fluffy and fell for six or seven hours. In the South, that means people stay home, off the streets. That is, we stay home after we have raided the store shelves of bread, milk, eggs and other essentials. Shopping during one of these grocery store runs can be dangerous to one's health. Anyway, no one came by the room today except the usual hospital staff and two hospice workers about noon. Tom and I were all alone in our little room and I could focus my whole attention on him. It was such a gift to have a day to ourselves. The middle of the afternoon I stretched out on the little sofa, telling him I was right there by him and needed to close my eyes for a few minutes. When I woke up after about 20 minutes, he had quit breathing. I wasn't holding his hand as I had wanted to be, but we were together.
The most beautiful statement was made to me by my precious five year old granddaughter. I went to Tommy's so I could tell the grandchildren about their Paw Paw. After I told them, Meredith crawled up in my lap and said, "Please don't be sad and cry, Maw Maw. Paw Paw's in your heart."
Memorial services will be held later this week or early next (depending on winter weather advisories) at Covenant Presbyterian in Jackson, MS. More about that later.
My love and God's blessings,
Pastor Margaret
The dreaded day, the day for which I have hoped and prayed finally was today. Tom passed very peacefully about four this afternoon. The last several days I have sat by his bed, holding his hand, talking, telling him what's in the news, reading psalms, praying, singing. He has shown no real response since Thursday except for grimacing when he hurt, or having Parkinson type tics because he's not had any meds. One exception: the nurses have been swabbing his mouth with a special mouthwash several times a day and yesterday he wouldn't open his mouth. The nurse said for me to try if I saw an opening anytime during the day. He was like a little boy refusing to take his medicine, clinching his teeth together so I couldn't possibly get anything past his lips.
This morning I drove to the hospital in the most beautiful snow. The flakes were big and fluffy and fell for six or seven hours. In the South, that means people stay home, off the streets. That is, we stay home after we have raided the store shelves of bread, milk, eggs and other essentials. Shopping during one of these grocery store runs can be dangerous to one's health. Anyway, no one came by the room today except the usual hospital staff and two hospice workers about noon. Tom and I were all alone in our little room and I could focus my whole attention on him. It was such a gift to have a day to ourselves. The middle of the afternoon I stretched out on the little sofa, telling him I was right there by him and needed to close my eyes for a few minutes. When I woke up after about 20 minutes, he had quit breathing. I wasn't holding his hand as I had wanted to be, but we were together.
The most beautiful statement was made to me by my precious five year old granddaughter. I went to Tommy's so I could tell the grandchildren about their Paw Paw. After I told them, Meredith crawled up in my lap and said, "Please don't be sad and cry, Maw Maw. Paw Paw's in your heart."
Memorial services will be held later this week or early next (depending on winter weather advisories) at Covenant Presbyterian in Jackson, MS. More about that later.
My love and God's blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Saturday, February 05, 2011
From my heart . . .
Marty and the bolys left early this morning to go with Tommy to Jacob's honors' band concert in Memphis. It is quiet in my house--almost too quiet.
Last night I was dull from exhaustion, tired of the ups and downs, the endless decisions. Since February 18, forty four years ago, I have discussed almost everything with Tom. He's the wise one. He's the one who always reminds me of the One who shows us the way. I don't function well without him. I dread going to the hospital to see him wasting away; I look up and see him sitting aross the room, asking "Can I get you anything?"
Hospital staff have commented about his manners. Even when his speech was difficult to understand, they could hear him express his gratidude for their help. He never let a CNA leave after giving him a bath without telling her "Thank you." One day he apologized to some friends who had been in for a visit saying, "Excuse me for not getting up." Always the gentleman! Mom would be so proud--she taught him well.
When sleep doesn't come I think of things I must do or the memories Tom and I have shared. Two nights ago the thought stuck me that waiting and walking this journey with him is not so unlike the days leading up to Vietnam. Since the moment of "I do," we knew deployment was around the corner. At first we went on with daily preparations. He reported really early to the base for more training while I stayed home and dyed his underwear green. We tried to live in the moment, but war was raging and he was on his way. The past several years, we have lived in the moment, caring for one another, just enjoying being together, knowing that one of us would get orders sooner than the other. Tom's orders came for Vietnam and we knew exactly when he would go. Today it's as if Tom's orders came when he fell four weeks ago, even though at first I thought he would recover from the surgery. Now it is different; he has his orders, but we cannot know when he will pass. I walked those days before he left for war in dread, hating to see the sun go down because it brought us one day closer to departure. These are walked much the same way. The day he boarded the plane I stood and watched with what Mom and Dad described as crocodile tears streaming down my face. I was at a loss for words, fearing that I would never see him again. How different today! I know that I will see him again and that he will be free of all infirmities, free of pain. He will be waiting in our heavenly home.
That Vietnam year taught me two valuable lessons. 1) I learned from living with Mom and Dad Suttle what it really meant to be a family. They loved me as a real daughter, not just as Tom's wife. Dad said after the year was over that as hard as the year was, we had a wonderful time--and we did. 2) The Lamentations 2 verses became the starting point of every day and have continued to be firmly rooted in my life: It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed.
They are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness!
In the midst of our deepest sorrow, no matter what, God is faithful. To God be the glory!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Marty and the bolys left early this morning to go with Tommy to Jacob's honors' band concert in Memphis. It is quiet in my house--almost too quiet.
Last night I was dull from exhaustion, tired of the ups and downs, the endless decisions. Since February 18, forty four years ago, I have discussed almost everything with Tom. He's the wise one. He's the one who always reminds me of the One who shows us the way. I don't function well without him. I dread going to the hospital to see him wasting away; I look up and see him sitting aross the room, asking "Can I get you anything?"
Hospital staff have commented about his manners. Even when his speech was difficult to understand, they could hear him express his gratidude for their help. He never let a CNA leave after giving him a bath without telling her "Thank you." One day he apologized to some friends who had been in for a visit saying, "Excuse me for not getting up." Always the gentleman! Mom would be so proud--she taught him well.
When sleep doesn't come I think of things I must do or the memories Tom and I have shared. Two nights ago the thought stuck me that waiting and walking this journey with him is not so unlike the days leading up to Vietnam. Since the moment of "I do," we knew deployment was around the corner. At first we went on with daily preparations. He reported really early to the base for more training while I stayed home and dyed his underwear green. We tried to live in the moment, but war was raging and he was on his way. The past several years, we have lived in the moment, caring for one another, just enjoying being together, knowing that one of us would get orders sooner than the other. Tom's orders came for Vietnam and we knew exactly when he would go. Today it's as if Tom's orders came when he fell four weeks ago, even though at first I thought he would recover from the surgery. Now it is different; he has his orders, but we cannot know when he will pass. I walked those days before he left for war in dread, hating to see the sun go down because it brought us one day closer to departure. These are walked much the same way. The day he boarded the plane I stood and watched with what Mom and Dad described as crocodile tears streaming down my face. I was at a loss for words, fearing that I would never see him again. How different today! I know that I will see him again and that he will be free of all infirmities, free of pain. He will be waiting in our heavenly home.
That Vietnam year taught me two valuable lessons. 1) I learned from living with Mom and Dad Suttle what it really meant to be a family. They loved me as a real daughter, not just as Tom's wife. Dad said after the year was over that as hard as the year was, we had a wonderful time--and we did. 2) The Lamentations 2 verses became the starting point of every day and have continued to be firmly rooted in my life: It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed.
They are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness!
In the midst of our deepest sorrow, no matter what, God is faithful. To God be the glory!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Friday, February 04, 2011
The Week in Review . . .
Marty and her boys came Monday afternoon--just ahead of the rain, the dropping temperatures and the winter storm advisory. All three survived the long trip better than I thought they might. I have been so glad to have her with me and to have some activity in the house. Christopher and Colin have loved playing with cousins and it's been fun to watch them together. Tom knew Marty when she went to see him Tuesday and said her name. Since then there has been a steady decline in his condition.
Tom has not eaten since late Tuesday, nor has he had noticeable hydration since Wednesday. He only has had moisture from the swabs they use to clean his mouth and tongue. Swallowing has become a major problem. Until today he would try to say something in response to questions asked him, but now he has quit trying to even form words with his lips. He needs pain medication to be comfortable and that sedates him. The journey for him is difficult. Still, we
watch and wait, assuring him of our love, talking about special memories.
Yesterday the social worker on our hospice team came by the room. I had not met her previously. Frankly, I thought she talked too much. She began her endless chatter by explaining the death process to me, then proceeding to tell me what I need to do for myself. From there she went on to tell me how people with terminal illnesses feel, giving me pointers on how to respond to them. All the time, I'm thinking: "What ever happened to the art of listening?" I had to remind myself that she didn't know either of us; she didn't know our history; she didn't know our faith and unless she stopped talking, she never would. When I had had enough, I told her that I understood terminal illness because I had one myself and that Tom and I determined at the onset that we would live and that we would care for one another. What's more Tom had actually thanked God for the Parkinson's, praying that God would be glorified in his illness. Fortunately, she's the exception on the team, not the rule.
Today I went for an Avastin infusion in Corinth. Because I have two unexplained sores under my left arm, I promised Marty that I would have the nurse look at them. They just happen to be on the side where the lymph nodes were removed almost thirty years ago. Long story short: until two nurses and the doctor took a look, they would not treat me. Avastin slows down healing and I could choose to stop treatment for two months or could continue how I was treating the sores and be patient. I chose to keep the Avastin on schedule and be patient. After over an hour delay I received the treatment. What a day!
To add to everything else, the case manager told Marty today that Medicare will start pressuring us to find another place for Tom after two weeks--one has already passed. I don't think Tom would survive a move. Honestly, I'm too tired, too numb to think about that today. Jesus tells us to Be anxious for nothing, so I will not. Every day, in every way God is faithful to His promises. I will not be anxious and I will trust God to make the right decision when the time comes.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Marty and her boys came Monday afternoon--just ahead of the rain, the dropping temperatures and the winter storm advisory. All three survived the long trip better than I thought they might. I have been so glad to have her with me and to have some activity in the house. Christopher and Colin have loved playing with cousins and it's been fun to watch them together. Tom knew Marty when she went to see him Tuesday and said her name. Since then there has been a steady decline in his condition.
Tom has not eaten since late Tuesday, nor has he had noticeable hydration since Wednesday. He only has had moisture from the swabs they use to clean his mouth and tongue. Swallowing has become a major problem. Until today he would try to say something in response to questions asked him, but now he has quit trying to even form words with his lips. He needs pain medication to be comfortable and that sedates him. The journey for him is difficult. Still, we
watch and wait, assuring him of our love, talking about special memories.
Yesterday the social worker on our hospice team came by the room. I had not met her previously. Frankly, I thought she talked too much. She began her endless chatter by explaining the death process to me, then proceeding to tell me what I need to do for myself. From there she went on to tell me how people with terminal illnesses feel, giving me pointers on how to respond to them. All the time, I'm thinking: "What ever happened to the art of listening?" I had to remind myself that she didn't know either of us; she didn't know our history; she didn't know our faith and unless she stopped talking, she never would. When I had had enough, I told her that I understood terminal illness because I had one myself and that Tom and I determined at the onset that we would live and that we would care for one another. What's more Tom had actually thanked God for the Parkinson's, praying that God would be glorified in his illness. Fortunately, she's the exception on the team, not the rule.
Today I went for an Avastin infusion in Corinth. Because I have two unexplained sores under my left arm, I promised Marty that I would have the nurse look at them. They just happen to be on the side where the lymph nodes were removed almost thirty years ago. Long story short: until two nurses and the doctor took a look, they would not treat me. Avastin slows down healing and I could choose to stop treatment for two months or could continue how I was treating the sores and be patient. I chose to keep the Avastin on schedule and be patient. After over an hour delay I received the treatment. What a day!
To add to everything else, the case manager told Marty today that Medicare will start pressuring us to find another place for Tom after two weeks--one has already passed. I don't think Tom would survive a move. Honestly, I'm too tired, too numb to think about that today. Jesus tells us to Be anxious for nothing, so I will not. Every day, in every way God is faithful to His promises. I will not be anxious and I will trust God to make the right decision when the time comes.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Weariness and Strength
They are at opposite ends of the spectrum. More times than not waves of wearniness overcome me. I'm sitting, perfectly still and quiet, like a peaceful deserted beach when a wave of wearniness rolls over me as the tide overtaking the beach. I wonder how I can walk to the car, much less get up and repeat this tiring process another day. I come home to a messy house, dropping mail, my purse and coat wherever there's an empty spot. The Christmas wreath is still on the front, Christmas dishes are stacked on the dining room table waiting to be put away, the morning coffee mug sits on the counter. I remember. Major on the majors. There is so much to do and I'm torn between being at the hospital with Tom, keeping up with daily chores like laundry, bills, etc. and resting. Yesterday, late in the afternoon, just when I thought I'd scream if Tom called me one more time, I heard a voice in my head say, My strength is made perfect in your weakness. (Tom calls my name, sometimes because he just wants to know I'm there, sometimes to tell me something. His speech has deteriorated so that I have to get in his face and strain to understand what he's saying. It's frustrating for us both.) God's word came through and I knew I was trying too much on my own. I have to rely on God's strength.
So, this morning, after a good night's sleep I'm ready to shower, dress and head to the hospital.
I've had a cup of tea--simply because my coffee pot won't come on again--Tommy's already fixed it once--I'll fix myself breakfast and swallow one last pill. When I come home tonight I'll think about chores. Marty and her boys are coming Tuesday and if the remaining Christmas boxes are not taken to the attic, they'll have nowhere to sleep.
I have begun the oral chemo regimen. The first day I took the capsule, I got nauseated late in the day. Though I hate to take them, I took a pill for nausea. The next day I had to force myself to take that day's capsule because I didn't want to repeat the nausea. So far the extreme fatigue and shortness of breath have not returned. We are praying that once a day will be kinder to my body than an infusion every two weeks. God's strength is a must.
Yesterday was a beautiful day--sunshine and mid-sixties. The best part was the visit of two Mississippi friends. Tom was so glad to see them and really perked up when he heard their voices and saw them. Our sitter stayed with him while we went out to lunch together. Of course, there was much talk about Tom, etc., but also there was talk of children, grandchildren, things "back home" and shared memories. Their visit made the day--or the week--or month. It was a blessing, indeed!
Thank you, faithful friends, for keeping up and for your prayers.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
They are at opposite ends of the spectrum. More times than not waves of wearniness overcome me. I'm sitting, perfectly still and quiet, like a peaceful deserted beach when a wave of wearniness rolls over me as the tide overtaking the beach. I wonder how I can walk to the car, much less get up and repeat this tiring process another day. I come home to a messy house, dropping mail, my purse and coat wherever there's an empty spot. The Christmas wreath is still on the front, Christmas dishes are stacked on the dining room table waiting to be put away, the morning coffee mug sits on the counter. I remember. Major on the majors. There is so much to do and I'm torn between being at the hospital with Tom, keeping up with daily chores like laundry, bills, etc. and resting. Yesterday, late in the afternoon, just when I thought I'd scream if Tom called me one more time, I heard a voice in my head say, My strength is made perfect in your weakness. (Tom calls my name, sometimes because he just wants to know I'm there, sometimes to tell me something. His speech has deteriorated so that I have to get in his face and strain to understand what he's saying. It's frustrating for us both.) God's word came through and I knew I was trying too much on my own. I have to rely on God's strength.
So, this morning, after a good night's sleep I'm ready to shower, dress and head to the hospital.
I've had a cup of tea--simply because my coffee pot won't come on again--Tommy's already fixed it once--I'll fix myself breakfast and swallow one last pill. When I come home tonight I'll think about chores. Marty and her boys are coming Tuesday and if the remaining Christmas boxes are not taken to the attic, they'll have nowhere to sleep.
I have begun the oral chemo regimen. The first day I took the capsule, I got nauseated late in the day. Though I hate to take them, I took a pill for nausea. The next day I had to force myself to take that day's capsule because I didn't want to repeat the nausea. So far the extreme fatigue and shortness of breath have not returned. We are praying that once a day will be kinder to my body than an infusion every two weeks. God's strength is a must.
Yesterday was a beautiful day--sunshine and mid-sixties. The best part was the visit of two Mississippi friends. Tom was so glad to see them and really perked up when he heard their voices and saw them. Our sitter stayed with him while we went out to lunch together. Of course, there was much talk about Tom, etc., but also there was talk of children, grandchildren, things "back home" and shared memories. Their visit made the day--or the week--or month. It was a blessing, indeed!
Thank you, faithful friends, for keeping up and for your prayers.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Friday, January 28, 2011
A New Room . . . is what Tom knows about where he is now. Actually, we don't know what he knows about his condition. He asked once yesterday afternoon where he is and when I said that he is in the hospital and had been there three weeks he said nothing. Today someone asked how he fell and again, there didn't seem to be any recognition of what has happened to him. Yesterday he was about as alert as he gets; today not so much. He told me when I arrived that it was harder for him to talk today. This afternoon he asked for pain meds, he was given morphine and finally settled down and slept. I ran two necessary errands and came home by 5:30.
Throw away what you think you know about Hospice Care unless you've had to admit a loved one. In the years I was blessed to be a part of Older Adult Ministry I could spew a lot of information. In the last several years the realities of growing older and living with chronic illnesses have invaded our lives. I remember talking to groups about the difficulty of giving up measures of independence and then how difficult it was to cope with Tom's reaction to the news that he could no longer drive. I have had to learn what to say "no" to and what was allowable, though the consequences might mean more work for me. But, I digress.
The Hospice team was wonderful today as they came, one by one, to introduce themselves, to ask questions, to see if we had any and to get to know both Tom and me. We were treated like people, not the patient in 989. At some time during the day I met all except one member of the team assigned to Tom. Only the chaplain was absent. I almost wept as I watched two aides give Tom a bath and change his linen. They encouraged and affirmed him and treated him with such tenderness. What a comfort to both patient and family members!
As many times as I have visited and prayed with terminally ill people and their families, it has been difficult to pray over my own husband and commit him to the Lord completely. Isn't he my husband? Don't I take better care of him than anyone else? I have promised to care for him in sickness and in health. It's a control thing that goes all the way back to Adam and Eve. To others I have recommended giving their loved one permission to let go. I have not been able to do that with Tom. He has always been such a fighter and I don't want him to think I have "given up" on him. The Hospice case manager helped me with that. After our conversation, I thought: "What's wrong with you? You and Tom have always trusted God with your lives and sought His wisdom and guidance. You need to do that now." We not only have hope, we have the one who is Hope!" I have been studying the book of Revelation as I sit with Tom and realized as never before what a beautiful picture of hope it paints. God continues to guide with His Word. He will give me the words I need to say.
One last thing. No matter how old you are, no matter whether you are married or single, do not pass "go" until you have an Advanced Directive for Health Care in place. Simple forms are available on-line and other places, or you can expand on the form and state your specific wishes. Name someone as your power of attorney who knows your wishes and who will see to it that they are executed. Such a document is a priceless gift for those who love you!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Throw away what you think you know about Hospice Care unless you've had to admit a loved one. In the years I was blessed to be a part of Older Adult Ministry I could spew a lot of information. In the last several years the realities of growing older and living with chronic illnesses have invaded our lives. I remember talking to groups about the difficulty of giving up measures of independence and then how difficult it was to cope with Tom's reaction to the news that he could no longer drive. I have had to learn what to say "no" to and what was allowable, though the consequences might mean more work for me. But, I digress.
The Hospice team was wonderful today as they came, one by one, to introduce themselves, to ask questions, to see if we had any and to get to know both Tom and me. We were treated like people, not the patient in 989. At some time during the day I met all except one member of the team assigned to Tom. Only the chaplain was absent. I almost wept as I watched two aides give Tom a bath and change his linen. They encouraged and affirmed him and treated him with such tenderness. What a comfort to both patient and family members!
As many times as I have visited and prayed with terminally ill people and their families, it has been difficult to pray over my own husband and commit him to the Lord completely. Isn't he my husband? Don't I take better care of him than anyone else? I have promised to care for him in sickness and in health. It's a control thing that goes all the way back to Adam and Eve. To others I have recommended giving their loved one permission to let go. I have not been able to do that with Tom. He has always been such a fighter and I don't want him to think I have "given up" on him. The Hospice case manager helped me with that. After our conversation, I thought: "What's wrong with you? You and Tom have always trusted God with your lives and sought His wisdom and guidance. You need to do that now." We not only have hope, we have the one who is Hope!" I have been studying the book of Revelation as I sit with Tom and realized as never before what a beautiful picture of hope it paints. God continues to guide with His Word. He will give me the words I need to say.
One last thing. No matter how old you are, no matter whether you are married or single, do not pass "go" until you have an Advanced Directive for Health Care in place. Simple forms are available on-line and other places, or you can expand on the form and state your specific wishes. Name someone as your power of attorney who knows your wishes and who will see to it that they are executed. Such a document is a priceless gift for those who love you!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Tough Decision . . .
Since I last posted Tom's condition has continued to change--to the point that yesterday Tommy and I both looked at him and knew something was different. He doesn't do anything but sleep and his eyes are vacant. I was told by the neurologist that there wasn't much about Tom that is reversible--definitely hard to hear, but not totally unexpected. Our observation plus counsel from two doctors led us to ask for the paliative care team to evaluate and advise. We met with them this afternoon. Their recommendation is to move Tom to the hospice area on the oncology floor. I said the decision was tough, but it was made easier by having Tom's wishes documented in his Advance Directive. We called Marty for her input, she concurred, so tomorrow I do necessary paperwork to have him moved. If he stabilizes or if by some miracle, he improves we can bring him home which is what he prefers. I don't expect that to happen.
Last night Tommy and I had a serious, frank "discussion" with Tom. Who knows what he comprehended? After Tommy finished assuring his dad that he would care for me and how much he loved him, Tom says, "I'd like to go to the kitchen for some cookies." Of course, he was hard to understand, but he knew what he wanted! Next, we prayed for him, asking for God's healing and for God to come quickly. I spent the night because I couldn't bear to leave him. He has slept most of today and showed no expression when I kissed him goodbye and said I was coming home.
Fortunately, I don't believe Tom knows the seriousness of his condition. He may not even know he's in the hospital. He surely doesn't know that he's been there three weeks. Your prayers and concern, your FB messages, e-mails, cards and calls have sustained us. I am so grateful! We know that Tom is safe in the arms of Jesus and that he will have a new body and a new mind when God calls him home. How I'll miss him!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Since I last posted Tom's condition has continued to change--to the point that yesterday Tommy and I both looked at him and knew something was different. He doesn't do anything but sleep and his eyes are vacant. I was told by the neurologist that there wasn't much about Tom that is reversible--definitely hard to hear, but not totally unexpected. Our observation plus counsel from two doctors led us to ask for the paliative care team to evaluate and advise. We met with them this afternoon. Their recommendation is to move Tom to the hospice area on the oncology floor. I said the decision was tough, but it was made easier by having Tom's wishes documented in his Advance Directive. We called Marty for her input, she concurred, so tomorrow I do necessary paperwork to have him moved. If he stabilizes or if by some miracle, he improves we can bring him home which is what he prefers. I don't expect that to happen.
Last night Tommy and I had a serious, frank "discussion" with Tom. Who knows what he comprehended? After Tommy finished assuring his dad that he would care for me and how much he loved him, Tom says, "I'd like to go to the kitchen for some cookies." Of course, he was hard to understand, but he knew what he wanted! Next, we prayed for him, asking for God's healing and for God to come quickly. I spent the night because I couldn't bear to leave him. He has slept most of today and showed no expression when I kissed him goodbye and said I was coming home.
Fortunately, I don't believe Tom knows the seriousness of his condition. He may not even know he's in the hospital. He surely doesn't know that he's been there three weeks. Your prayers and concern, your FB messages, e-mails, cards and calls have sustained us. I am so grateful! We know that Tom is safe in the arms of Jesus and that he will have a new body and a new mind when God calls him home. How I'll miss him!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Saturday, January 22, 2011
A song comes to mind . . .
But, I can't think of its name. Remember? First you say you will and then you won't; then you say you do and you don't? These vague words are so descriptive of Tom's situation and, for that matter, the words and advice I'm hearing from doctors. We are fortunate with really good, caring doctors, but it's as if they are so focused on their own specialties that don't they know how the whole works together--or not.
For instance, I saw the neurologist this morning and he is not optimistic about much recovery. He sees the Parkinson's, knows how it has progressed in Tom since first meeting him in 2007 and knows from both a professional and a personal view how Parkinson's affects everything else. Before I arrived this morning, the infectious disease doctor came, saw that the white count had started going up again, so ordered a chest x-ray. I didn't know about the white count and was surprised to see the x-ray techs arrive this afternoon. Still later in the afternoon the medical doctor came and was encouraging about the small improvement steps. He spent several minutes telling Tom how important it is for him to eat to get his strength back. Maybe Monday I will talk to the social worker about discharge plans. Maybe I will and maybe I won't.
I won't go into the practically nonexistent care of today. My mother was a nurse and I know how demanding their jobs can be. However, I was not at all satisfied with today's lack of care and concern for Tom! Nuff said.
My treatment began again yesterday or the Avastin part of it did. The insurance company approved my taking the chemo drug in capsule form once a day. I'll begin that regimen when they arrive by mail the middle of next week. Our hope is that I will respond more positively taking small daily doses than an infusion every two weeks. Even after two months off, my red counts are still low. God has provided the energy I've needed these last weeks; it definitely didn't come through a good red count!
I covet your prayers for patience and that I might bear the image of Christ as I interact with all the medical personnel.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
But, I can't think of its name. Remember? First you say you will and then you won't; then you say you do and you don't? These vague words are so descriptive of Tom's situation and, for that matter, the words and advice I'm hearing from doctors. We are fortunate with really good, caring doctors, but it's as if they are so focused on their own specialties that don't they know how the whole works together--or not.
For instance, I saw the neurologist this morning and he is not optimistic about much recovery. He sees the Parkinson's, knows how it has progressed in Tom since first meeting him in 2007 and knows from both a professional and a personal view how Parkinson's affects everything else. Before I arrived this morning, the infectious disease doctor came, saw that the white count had started going up again, so ordered a chest x-ray. I didn't know about the white count and was surprised to see the x-ray techs arrive this afternoon. Still later in the afternoon the medical doctor came and was encouraging about the small improvement steps. He spent several minutes telling Tom how important it is for him to eat to get his strength back. Maybe Monday I will talk to the social worker about discharge plans. Maybe I will and maybe I won't.
I won't go into the practically nonexistent care of today. My mother was a nurse and I know how demanding their jobs can be. However, I was not at all satisfied with today's lack of care and concern for Tom! Nuff said.
My treatment began again yesterday or the Avastin part of it did. The insurance company approved my taking the chemo drug in capsule form once a day. I'll begin that regimen when they arrive by mail the middle of next week. Our hope is that I will respond more positively taking small daily doses than an infusion every two weeks. Even after two months off, my red counts are still low. God has provided the energy I've needed these last weeks; it definitely didn't come through a good red count!
I covet your prayers for patience and that I might bear the image of Christ as I interact with all the medical personnel.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Gradual Improvement . . . But
What does it mean? The infectious disease doctor said this morning that the white count continues coming down. The infections(?) are better and more tests are ordered for tomorrow. In the early morning Tom removed the nasal tube. We don't really know if it was a conscious act or what, but that meant no means to give him nutrition or Parkinson's meds--not good. The bedside swallow test was "borderline," meaning it had to be repeated in x-ray and when I left at five, there were still no results, leaving us to wonder if needed to have the tube reinserted. Between two and three the nurse called someone to see if she could crush his meds, put them in applesauce and administer. As soon as they were in his system he relaxed and went to sleep.
A little after noon I began to watch snow flakes outside our window. I drove home in what appeared to be a winter wonderland. The trees were beautiful and there were few signs of people walking or driving in the snow. There was only one set of tire tracks on my street. TV reports that the storm is moving on East, but with temperatures in the teens tonight, the streets will be icy in the morning. I'm supposed to go to Corinth--may have to call and reschedule.
The last two weeks have been frustrating, scarey and stressful for us as we have watched and waited for developments. I have no idea what Tom knows about his situation. It is difficult to know whether his reactions are strictly related to his current problems or if they are a manifestation of the Parkinson's. One minute he communicates; the next minute he doesn't. Sometimes he knows when Tommy and/or I are present; sometimes not. He talked with Marty on the phone; he sang with the grandchildren. When I first arrived this morning, he asked me who I was. Most of the rest of the day he rambled words I couldn't understand and could hardly hear. The one constant in all of this has been the mercy and grace of God. Never have the promises of God been more meaningful! Never has His Word been more reassuring! I continue to pray for God's guidance and God's peace in the days ahead. Thank you for joining with me.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
What does it mean? The infectious disease doctor said this morning that the white count continues coming down. The infections(?) are better and more tests are ordered for tomorrow. In the early morning Tom removed the nasal tube. We don't really know if it was a conscious act or what, but that meant no means to give him nutrition or Parkinson's meds--not good. The bedside swallow test was "borderline," meaning it had to be repeated in x-ray and when I left at five, there were still no results, leaving us to wonder if needed to have the tube reinserted. Between two and three the nurse called someone to see if she could crush his meds, put them in applesauce and administer. As soon as they were in his system he relaxed and went to sleep.
A little after noon I began to watch snow flakes outside our window. I drove home in what appeared to be a winter wonderland. The trees were beautiful and there were few signs of people walking or driving in the snow. There was only one set of tire tracks on my street. TV reports that the storm is moving on East, but with temperatures in the teens tonight, the streets will be icy in the morning. I'm supposed to go to Corinth--may have to call and reschedule.
The last two weeks have been frustrating, scarey and stressful for us as we have watched and waited for developments. I have no idea what Tom knows about his situation. It is difficult to know whether his reactions are strictly related to his current problems or if they are a manifestation of the Parkinson's. One minute he communicates; the next minute he doesn't. Sometimes he knows when Tommy and/or I are present; sometimes not. He talked with Marty on the phone; he sang with the grandchildren. When I first arrived this morning, he asked me who I was. Most of the rest of the day he rambled words I couldn't understand and could hardly hear. The one constant in all of this has been the mercy and grace of God. Never have the promises of God been more meaningful! Never has His Word been more reassuring! I continue to pray for God's guidance and God's peace in the days ahead. Thank you for joining with me.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The facts as I know them:
--Tom seemed better yesterday.
--He had spoke briefly to Marty on the phone yesterday. The account is on her blog: www.canapesun.blogspot.com.
--Today the white count was down and we had an answer to why it had been high. He has a bacteria in his intestine that can be caused by high doses of antibiotic and often presents itself in persons with compromised immune systems. They are treating it with other high doses of powerful antibiotics. Go figure.
--He worked with the physical therapists and managed to sit on the side of the bed for seven minutes. That was about ten this morning. He slept the rest of the day.
--Tomorrow he will finally have the swallowing test.
--I left the hospital a little before four to do some necessary errands. We are expecting more snow and or ice in the next couple of days and I needed to be prepared.
--Liz called to say she took the children by to see him after church. They sang "Jesus Loves Me" and "Deep and Wide" and he sang along. Earlier in the day he wouldn't have done that.
--We are still living hour to hour; don't know what to expect; don't know where he might go. Our trust is in our ever faithful God who knows the answers to our questions and will reveal them in His time. We continue to covet your prayers. I often tell others that God works through the prayers of His people. Never has that truth been more evident to me than now!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
--Tom seemed better yesterday.
--He had spoke briefly to Marty on the phone yesterday. The account is on her blog: www.canapesun.blogspot.com.
--Today the white count was down and we had an answer to why it had been high. He has a bacteria in his intestine that can be caused by high doses of antibiotic and often presents itself in persons with compromised immune systems. They are treating it with other high doses of powerful antibiotics. Go figure.
--He worked with the physical therapists and managed to sit on the side of the bed for seven minutes. That was about ten this morning. He slept the rest of the day.
--Tomorrow he will finally have the swallowing test.
--I left the hospital a little before four to do some necessary errands. We are expecting more snow and or ice in the next couple of days and I needed to be prepared.
--Liz called to say she took the children by to see him after church. They sang "Jesus Loves Me" and "Deep and Wide" and he sang along. Earlier in the day he wouldn't have done that.
--We are still living hour to hour; don't know what to expect; don't know where he might go. Our trust is in our ever faithful God who knows the answers to our questions and will reveal them in His time. We continue to covet your prayers. I often tell others that God works through the prayers of His people. Never has that truth been more evident to me than now!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Monday, January 17, 2011
The vigil continues as we wait for Tom's healing. Today, as I was sitting and thinking of all that has happened, what has not happened and the information we have tried to process from the doctors, I began to wilt. A dear California friend used to call me a "Steel Magnolia" and I knew today that I was anything but. I am more like a bruised magnolia blossom that turns brown and wilts when it is touched. My body is running on adrenalin, my mind is wrung out and my heart is breaking as I watch Tom lying there.
Toward the end of last week one of the doctors discussed with me what they are concerned about in a person in Tom's condition--complications of clots, pneumonia, urinary tract etc. Today we were to have a swallowing test and see if he could follow commands, but yesterday he spiked a fever and his white count went up to 42,000. Instead of what was planned he has been pumped full of antibiotics, acquired an infectious desease doctor and had more tests. The neurologist on call this week is Tom's regular one and he knows Tom like the back of his hand. He is a very good doctor, explains things well and we have a good relationship with him. I know he will be honest and that he cares. Full recovery, because of the Parkinson's, is not realistic.
The three of us--Tommy, Marty and I--may have to make a hard decision soon. Please pray for us. Tom is the love of my life, a true gift from God.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Toward the end of last week one of the doctors discussed with me what they are concerned about in a person in Tom's condition--complications of clots, pneumonia, urinary tract etc. Today we were to have a swallowing test and see if he could follow commands, but yesterday he spiked a fever and his white count went up to 42,000. Instead of what was planned he has been pumped full of antibiotics, acquired an infectious desease doctor and had more tests. The neurologist on call this week is Tom's regular one and he knows Tom like the back of his hand. He is a very good doctor, explains things well and we have a good relationship with him. I know he will be honest and that he cares. Full recovery, because of the Parkinson's, is not realistic.
The three of us--Tommy, Marty and I--may have to make a hard decision soon. Please pray for us. Tom is the love of my life, a true gift from God.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Keeping bedside vigil can be both tiring and frustrating! Tonight most of the frustration is gone, but the tiredness seems to have increased, though it could be a sign of relief. Tom has not awakened since his surgery Friday night and we spent Sunday night, all of yesterday and a good bit of today waiting to find out why. We learned this afternoon that results of yesterday's MRI showed that Tom suffered between 20 and 30 small strokes during surgery. The neurologist said that it was a rare complication, but said he should recover from them completely in two or three weeks. In the meanwhile, he will remain where he is. He has a nasal tube so that he can receive his Parkinson's medications and proper nutrition. I understand this development will alter recovery, but am trying to not borrow trouble from tomorrow. After all, we are taught to pray: Give us this day our daily bread.
I return to the oncologist Friday and expect to resume treatment. I have enjoyed the extra energy that has allowed me to do simple things like shop and cook and bake without getting so exhausted. Being off treatment has also provided me the energy I've needed during Tom's latest ordeal. It is just one more proof of the truth of God's promises.
We are so grateful for all the prayers offered in our behalf; the FB messages; the calls and e-mails. No one ever had such faithful and wonderful friends as we do!!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
I return to the oncologist Friday and expect to resume treatment. I have enjoyed the extra energy that has allowed me to do simple things like shop and cook and bake without getting so exhausted. Being off treatment has also provided me the energy I've needed during Tom's latest ordeal. It is just one more proof of the truth of God's promises.
We are so grateful for all the prayers offered in our behalf; the FB messages; the calls and e-mails. No one ever had such faithful and wonderful friends as we do!!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Friday, January 07, 2011
A Quick Note
The last approximately thirty hours have been stressful and somewhat unbelievable. Tom fell in the driveway yesterday afternoon and broke his hip. The circumstances were crazy! We all tease him about his fixation with the Dairy Queen and how it's always been one of his favorite places. We went to Brown Bag Bible Study at noon where no one brings lunch so we usually go for food afterwards. We did that yesterday and when we finished Tom said he could go for a sundae from Dairy Queen. Somehow before we out of the parking lot, he had begun getting more on himself than in his mouth and tummy. By the time we got home he had a spoonful of ice cream in each hand. I parked on the slope leading to our garage, came inside for materials to clean him up, got most of the sticky off him and helped him out of the car. As I was beginning to wipe down the car seat, I heard a scary thud--his head hitting the concrete. He had lost is balance and fell--hard! I called 911 and Tommy and went back outside to wait. We arrived at the ER about 3:15 and were wrapped up in the "wait and see" process until about 2 this morning. ER was exceptionally busy late yesterday with trauma patients, but Tom was not high up on the triage list. He was x-rayed for fractures, scanned for bleeding in the brain or a problem in his neck. Everything was clear. Tommy kept noticing Tom grimmacing when he moved a certain way and told the doctor, at which point the doctor said we should see if he could walk-he couldn't take more than three steps. Back to CT for a pelvic scan and there they could see the fracture. Everything took forever! I got home a little after three. The nurses told me that the surgeons made rounds really early and I should either be back or leave phone numbers so he call and let me know what he proposed to do. About 9 a.m. I got a call from the floor supervisor asking for permission to do the surgery, just in case they came for him from surgery before I got there. Fast forward to 2 p.m. when we learned that it would be at least four before it would be Tom's turn. The anesthesiologist made his fact finding visit about 4:30, saying it would be another two hours at least. Bear in mind that Tom has had nothing to eat or drink since the ice cream that started this fiasco. We had turned on the Cotton Bowl and I had gone to sleep on the all purpose love seat in the room when a new doctor walked in to tell us that Tom could not have surgery until tomorrow because his white blood count was elevated. Hello!! That got my attention! I knew no one had drawn blood since I arrived at 9:30 this morning and asked why we were just learning of an elevated count and had been waiting for hours. His explanations of why the precaution went in one ear and out the other. I knew what he was saying, but it was obvious that the hospitalist folks were not communicating with the orthopedists. Not one question I had could be answered to my satisfaction, but I could do nothing. He went to the desk to order food for Tom and while there, surgery called to say they were coming for Tom. What then? Finally, the two doctors talked and Tom did have the surgery. What an ordeal!!
The actual procedure took about 30 minutes and he was back to the room in record time. The surgeon is a member of the church and he went the extra mile explaining things and telling us how well Tom did. I guess we should be thankful that the waiting was the long part and not the surgery.
God taught me a lesson during the frustrating wait in ER and again in the room today. I was getting madder and meaner by the minute, knowing what a bad witness that was. I knew that if I exhibited the anger I was feeling it would not be the image of Christ being seen. I thought of verses whose message is to be thankful in all things and began naming and thanking God for each blessing that came to mind: family, friends, prayer, the Word, medical care and so on. My spirit was calmed and my anger subsided. I told that to the doctor who delivered the message that surgery had to be postponed. He said nothing, but grinned. I pray he understood what I was saying and I pray that the Spirit of Christ was exhibited to all who have cared for Tom during the last thirty hours.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
The last approximately thirty hours have been stressful and somewhat unbelievable. Tom fell in the driveway yesterday afternoon and broke his hip. The circumstances were crazy! We all tease him about his fixation with the Dairy Queen and how it's always been one of his favorite places. We went to Brown Bag Bible Study at noon where no one brings lunch so we usually go for food afterwards. We did that yesterday and when we finished Tom said he could go for a sundae from Dairy Queen. Somehow before we out of the parking lot, he had begun getting more on himself than in his mouth and tummy. By the time we got home he had a spoonful of ice cream in each hand. I parked on the slope leading to our garage, came inside for materials to clean him up, got most of the sticky off him and helped him out of the car. As I was beginning to wipe down the car seat, I heard a scary thud--his head hitting the concrete. He had lost is balance and fell--hard! I called 911 and Tommy and went back outside to wait. We arrived at the ER about 3:15 and were wrapped up in the "wait and see" process until about 2 this morning. ER was exceptionally busy late yesterday with trauma patients, but Tom was not high up on the triage list. He was x-rayed for fractures, scanned for bleeding in the brain or a problem in his neck. Everything was clear. Tommy kept noticing Tom grimmacing when he moved a certain way and told the doctor, at which point the doctor said we should see if he could walk-he couldn't take more than three steps. Back to CT for a pelvic scan and there they could see the fracture. Everything took forever! I got home a little after three. The nurses told me that the surgeons made rounds really early and I should either be back or leave phone numbers so he call and let me know what he proposed to do. About 9 a.m. I got a call from the floor supervisor asking for permission to do the surgery, just in case they came for him from surgery before I got there. Fast forward to 2 p.m. when we learned that it would be at least four before it would be Tom's turn. The anesthesiologist made his fact finding visit about 4:30, saying it would be another two hours at least. Bear in mind that Tom has had nothing to eat or drink since the ice cream that started this fiasco. We had turned on the Cotton Bowl and I had gone to sleep on the all purpose love seat in the room when a new doctor walked in to tell us that Tom could not have surgery until tomorrow because his white blood count was elevated. Hello!! That got my attention! I knew no one had drawn blood since I arrived at 9:30 this morning and asked why we were just learning of an elevated count and had been waiting for hours. His explanations of why the precaution went in one ear and out the other. I knew what he was saying, but it was obvious that the hospitalist folks were not communicating with the orthopedists. Not one question I had could be answered to my satisfaction, but I could do nothing. He went to the desk to order food for Tom and while there, surgery called to say they were coming for Tom. What then? Finally, the two doctors talked and Tom did have the surgery. What an ordeal!!
The actual procedure took about 30 minutes and he was back to the room in record time. The surgeon is a member of the church and he went the extra mile explaining things and telling us how well Tom did. I guess we should be thankful that the waiting was the long part and not the surgery.
God taught me a lesson during the frustrating wait in ER and again in the room today. I was getting madder and meaner by the minute, knowing what a bad witness that was. I knew that if I exhibited the anger I was feeling it would not be the image of Christ being seen. I thought of verses whose message is to be thankful in all things and began naming and thanking God for each blessing that came to mind: family, friends, prayer, the Word, medical care and so on. My spirit was calmed and my anger subsided. I told that to the doctor who delivered the message that surgery had to be postponed. He said nothing, but grinned. I pray he understood what I was saying and I pray that the Spirit of Christ was exhibited to all who have cared for Tom during the last thirty hours.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Here we go again . . .
The repacking and putting away is in progress. Every year I can remember I have tried to think of more efficient ways to store things--this year is no different. The challenge will be to remember how I made changes, what's in the boxes and where those boxes are. Thankfully, no one is pushing me to get it done and I have a precious helper who goes up and down the pull down stairs to the attic. The one thing I resist putting away is the angel choir that belonged to Mom and Dad. It's one of my most treasured possessions! Except for the choir, I should be finished by the weekend.
Though I love the holidays, I also love getting back into a routine. Brown Bag Bible Study resumes tomorrow and we are both anxious to get back to the study of Zechariah. Conference rivalries begin in college basketball in January and we're ready to begin the road to the Final Four. All West Tennessee band try-outs for middle school are this Saturday and we're looking forward to taking Jacob to Collierville (just east of Memphis) where he will compete, this year on baritone sax. So, here we are, starting another year, getting back into routine things of our lives.
I wish I knew what "here we go again" means for treatment. I am still waiting for word as to when I see the doctor again and when treatment begins. On days when I don't feel really great my imagination runs wild. One day last week I was unloading on Marty and wondered if no treatment, no word from the oncologist had a hidden meaning. She said, "Do you think he's given up on you?" I replied that if he had and that was the way he practiced medicine he wouldn't have a liscense very long. She said that she only asked the question because she wanted me to hear how ridiculous I sounded. That has helped me wait more patiently for "here we go again" where the cancer is concerned.
Tonight, particularly, I share with you "here we go agains" that are at the top of our prayer list. Our friend, Susan who begain her journey with inflammatory breast cancer in 2007, learned this week that she has several spots on her lungs and is waiting for the next step in her treatment. Please pray for a miracle for her. Just before Christmas we learned of a dear California friend who had surgery for bladder cancer and of another who was to go this week to learn the extent of recently discovered bladder caner. Over the weekend we heard from a friend in Iowa whose husband has a recurrence of an abdominal cancer. They all need prayer as well.
Will we ever stop hearing of new or recurring cancers? Will there ever be a cure? Tom and I pray at every meal for the afore mentioned friends and for another Susan who lives nearby. Tom also prays for all the cancer to be removed from my body. Though we know medical statistics and probablities, we believe God is a God of miracles. I know that I may never be healed in this world and understand that complete healing takes place when we meet the Lord face to face. I hold fast to the knowledge that should healing might not happen here, that God's grace will continue to sustain me. Please be bold in your prayers for those you know who suffer any illness. And, in that same spirit of boldness, pray for a cure! I'm tired of "here we go again."
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
The repacking and putting away is in progress. Every year I can remember I have tried to think of more efficient ways to store things--this year is no different. The challenge will be to remember how I made changes, what's in the boxes and where those boxes are. Thankfully, no one is pushing me to get it done and I have a precious helper who goes up and down the pull down stairs to the attic. The one thing I resist putting away is the angel choir that belonged to Mom and Dad. It's one of my most treasured possessions! Except for the choir, I should be finished by the weekend.
Though I love the holidays, I also love getting back into a routine. Brown Bag Bible Study resumes tomorrow and we are both anxious to get back to the study of Zechariah. Conference rivalries begin in college basketball in January and we're ready to begin the road to the Final Four. All West Tennessee band try-outs for middle school are this Saturday and we're looking forward to taking Jacob to Collierville (just east of Memphis) where he will compete, this year on baritone sax. So, here we are, starting another year, getting back into routine things of our lives.
I wish I knew what "here we go again" means for treatment. I am still waiting for word as to when I see the doctor again and when treatment begins. On days when I don't feel really great my imagination runs wild. One day last week I was unloading on Marty and wondered if no treatment, no word from the oncologist had a hidden meaning. She said, "Do you think he's given up on you?" I replied that if he had and that was the way he practiced medicine he wouldn't have a liscense very long. She said that she only asked the question because she wanted me to hear how ridiculous I sounded. That has helped me wait more patiently for "here we go again" where the cancer is concerned.
Tonight, particularly, I share with you "here we go agains" that are at the top of our prayer list. Our friend, Susan who begain her journey with inflammatory breast cancer in 2007, learned this week that she has several spots on her lungs and is waiting for the next step in her treatment. Please pray for a miracle for her. Just before Christmas we learned of a dear California friend who had surgery for bladder cancer and of another who was to go this week to learn the extent of recently discovered bladder caner. Over the weekend we heard from a friend in Iowa whose husband has a recurrence of an abdominal cancer. They all need prayer as well.
Will we ever stop hearing of new or recurring cancers? Will there ever be a cure? Tom and I pray at every meal for the afore mentioned friends and for another Susan who lives nearby. Tom also prays for all the cancer to be removed from my body. Though we know medical statistics and probablities, we believe God is a God of miracles. I know that I may never be healed in this world and understand that complete healing takes place when we meet the Lord face to face. I hold fast to the knowledge that should healing might not happen here, that God's grace will continue to sustain me. Please be bold in your prayers for those you know who suffer any illness. And, in that same spirit of boldness, pray for a cure! I'm tired of "here we go again."
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Happy New Year!
When the Rose Parade is on TV I know it must be New Year's Day. Attending in person has always been on my "bucket list." I am amazed at all the creativity and hard work exhibited. Shortly, we change channels to watch football. Wouldn't you know that three games we really want to see are at the same time? No matter. We'll be watching and cheering for Tom's alma mater in the Gator Bowl. Go Dawgs!!!
Last night as we were enjoying a quiet, candlelight dinner, I realized that for us, New Year's Eve is more about remembering than about looking forward. Maybe our ages are showing. It's not that we don't think about the new year presenting new opportunities or a clean slate, so to speak. It's just that we have such delightful memories from years past--and some memories that are painful as well.
Tom's mom loved the parades on Thanksgiving Day and New Year's. She planned her mornings around being able to watch uninterrupted. She would settle in her chair with the remote in one hand and the phone in the other so she call and remind us that "parades have started." My first thoughts when the Rose Parade came on today were of Mom. One memory of her led to another and another and another . . .
Tommy and Liz have a house full of company--nine children and five adults. In the early years of their marriage, before they had children, friends of theirs from high school and college would arrive at their house with sleeping bags and pillows for a New Year's Eve celebration. None of the friends lived in the town where T & L lived and didn't want to drive home after an evening of merriment. At midnight Tommy would call to wish us "Happy New Year," knowing that he would wake us up with his greeting. Last night, in addition to the fourteen already present, two more joined them for dinner. We had planned to stop by for a bit, but it didn't work out for us to join them.
When Tommy and Marty were teenagers, several New Year's Eve gatherings for their friends were at our house. Ingredients for the evening were simple: lots of food, soft drinks and current board games. We would play with them until about ten, say our good nights and wait to be awakened by T&M at midnight with "Happy New Year." One year the youth group sponsors decided the party should be at their house instead of ours. What they didn't realize was that it really wasn't a church function. Our youth group was one big family that attracted others of T&M's friends and they gathered at our house for a party. That happened a lot, not just on New Year's Eve and last night I remembered that group of young folks, how special they were--and are today! Some of them were among those who celebrated with Tommy and Liz at their "spend the night" parties and one of the adults at their house last night was included in both of the earlier celebrations. I didn't wait for Tommy to wake me last night. I called him at 10:45 to say "Happy New Year" and that I was going to bed. Why didn't I think of that before?
That may be too much information, but thinking back reminded me of the friendships begun and nurtured in the youth group. It reminded me of individuals in the group, where they are today, what they are doing and how those friendships have lasted. I am thankful for our children's friends and thankful we are privileged to be included in their circle. I am thankful for a special youth director who was at the heart of the group. He remains close to them.
The holiday season of 1981 has been referenced recently when I wrote of our experience with a breast cancer diagnosis and surgery just three days after Christmas. In those days, that was not "drive through" surgery, but one that kept you hospitalized several days, so I was still in the hospital on New Year's Eve. That was the day pathology reports were shared and Tom planned to have two dear friends spend with me. Sybil came to spend the afternoon and Marilyn arrived in the early evening to spend the night. I will always be touched by the thoughtfulness of his arrangements and the sacrifice my two friends made to be with me that day. I still smile about an event of the afternoon. On that particular day patients from one wing were being transferred to another so deep cleaning could take place. Early in the afternoon, housekeeping took all my personal belongings to my new room and said someone would be back for me. Sybil and I visited, not paying attention to the time. About 5 p.m. an orderly entered my room, did a quick about face and left. We heard him in the hall stating, "There's someone in that room!" The staff had forgotten to move me. Later, Marilyn and I feasted on peanuts and popcorn in my new room. Tom had brought some for the nurses' station and for us to eat while we talked and watched football. It was an in-hospital slumber party. Those two friends helped me more than they will ever know. They continue to be a most important part of our lives. They came to California after cancer surgery there and they and their husbands come often to Tennessee now.
Precious memories come to mind at the close of this year. One memory leads to another and each reminds me of the One from whom all blessings flow. The new year has begun; we don't know what it holds. The slate is blank; the opportunities are many. I trust that this time next year we will have added to the precious memory bank. God bless you in the coming days!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
When the Rose Parade is on TV I know it must be New Year's Day. Attending in person has always been on my "bucket list." I am amazed at all the creativity and hard work exhibited. Shortly, we change channels to watch football. Wouldn't you know that three games we really want to see are at the same time? No matter. We'll be watching and cheering for Tom's alma mater in the Gator Bowl. Go Dawgs!!!
Last night as we were enjoying a quiet, candlelight dinner, I realized that for us, New Year's Eve is more about remembering than about looking forward. Maybe our ages are showing. It's not that we don't think about the new year presenting new opportunities or a clean slate, so to speak. It's just that we have such delightful memories from years past--and some memories that are painful as well.
Tom's mom loved the parades on Thanksgiving Day and New Year's. She planned her mornings around being able to watch uninterrupted. She would settle in her chair with the remote in one hand and the phone in the other so she call and remind us that "parades have started." My first thoughts when the Rose Parade came on today were of Mom. One memory of her led to another and another and another . . .
Tommy and Liz have a house full of company--nine children and five adults. In the early years of their marriage, before they had children, friends of theirs from high school and college would arrive at their house with sleeping bags and pillows for a New Year's Eve celebration. None of the friends lived in the town where T & L lived and didn't want to drive home after an evening of merriment. At midnight Tommy would call to wish us "Happy New Year," knowing that he would wake us up with his greeting. Last night, in addition to the fourteen already present, two more joined them for dinner. We had planned to stop by for a bit, but it didn't work out for us to join them.
When Tommy and Marty were teenagers, several New Year's Eve gatherings for their friends were at our house. Ingredients for the evening were simple: lots of food, soft drinks and current board games. We would play with them until about ten, say our good nights and wait to be awakened by T&M at midnight with "Happy New Year." One year the youth group sponsors decided the party should be at their house instead of ours. What they didn't realize was that it really wasn't a church function. Our youth group was one big family that attracted others of T&M's friends and they gathered at our house for a party. That happened a lot, not just on New Year's Eve and last night I remembered that group of young folks, how special they were--and are today! Some of them were among those who celebrated with Tommy and Liz at their "spend the night" parties and one of the adults at their house last night was included in both of the earlier celebrations. I didn't wait for Tommy to wake me last night. I called him at 10:45 to say "Happy New Year" and that I was going to bed. Why didn't I think of that before?
That may be too much information, but thinking back reminded me of the friendships begun and nurtured in the youth group. It reminded me of individuals in the group, where they are today, what they are doing and how those friendships have lasted. I am thankful for our children's friends and thankful we are privileged to be included in their circle. I am thankful for a special youth director who was at the heart of the group. He remains close to them.
The holiday season of 1981 has been referenced recently when I wrote of our experience with a breast cancer diagnosis and surgery just three days after Christmas. In those days, that was not "drive through" surgery, but one that kept you hospitalized several days, so I was still in the hospital on New Year's Eve. That was the day pathology reports were shared and Tom planned to have two dear friends spend with me. Sybil came to spend the afternoon and Marilyn arrived in the early evening to spend the night. I will always be touched by the thoughtfulness of his arrangements and the sacrifice my two friends made to be with me that day. I still smile about an event of the afternoon. On that particular day patients from one wing were being transferred to another so deep cleaning could take place. Early in the afternoon, housekeeping took all my personal belongings to my new room and said someone would be back for me. Sybil and I visited, not paying attention to the time. About 5 p.m. an orderly entered my room, did a quick about face and left. We heard him in the hall stating, "There's someone in that room!" The staff had forgotten to move me. Later, Marilyn and I feasted on peanuts and popcorn in my new room. Tom had brought some for the nurses' station and for us to eat while we talked and watched football. It was an in-hospital slumber party. Those two friends helped me more than they will ever know. They continue to be a most important part of our lives. They came to California after cancer surgery there and they and their husbands come often to Tennessee now.
Precious memories come to mind at the close of this year. One memory leads to another and each reminds me of the One from whom all blessings flow. The new year has begun; we don't know what it holds. The slate is blank; the opportunities are many. I trust that this time next year we will have added to the precious memory bank. God bless you in the coming days!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
The year was a blur . . .
We spent Christmas 2009 with Tom in the hospital and began 2010 with him in the nursing home. He had taken a definite turn for the worst and wondered if he would ever come home again. God, in His mercy, answered our prayers for improvement and he came home the first week in February. His condition is definitely deteriorating, with bad days outnumbering good days. Still, we have had some great times together and with our family.
Marty, Kevin and their three came for a visit around Easter and we were able to spend a long weekend with them in November when we went to Raleigh so I could baptize Colin. Marty has introduced me to Skype so we can visit "face to face" to see how the boys are growing. Mallory is in her first year of high school--hard to believe. Being around the corner from Tommy and Liz means sharing ordinary days, holidays and birthdays. I have loved watching Jacob develop his musical abilities and the two younger girls learn how to play together. Drew is very consciencious with his school work, but not so much in keeping up with things. I wonder if we have an "absent minded professor" in the making. Sarah helps both her mom and her dad around the house and is really good with her little sisters. I haven't cooked with her so much this year, but hope to resume that soon. They are all growing up too fast to suit me.
Our holidays have been relaxing--for the most part. I've enjoyed baking and having food to share. We had friends for dinner a couple of weeks ago and they brought beautiful pictures of a three month trip they took to Alaska in the summer and another about ten day one to South Africa in the fall. The travelogue was especially meanigful to Tom and me since we don't travel so well any more. Christmas Eve we had Tommy's family, plus Liz's mom and dad for dinner; I took stollen and ham biscuits to add to Christmas breakfast at Tommy's and went back that night with a plate full of goodies. I have made enough biscuits in the last two weeks to feed a small army! It was the right decision to start ordering 25 pound bags of flour from King Arthur.
One of my favorite things about Christmas is mail time. I love seeing pictures of children and grandchildren; I love hearing what everyone has been doing; I love knowing of others' lives. I am reminded of how grateful I am for friends and how I need to pray for each one. We were saddened one day to see the names of two who had special places in our life in a list of memorials. One was the name of the lady who was my mentor/friend when I did my Christian Education fieldwork and the same lady who arranged the first date Tom and I had with each other. The second was a friend with whom we shared lots of memories.
We learned in early December, 1981 that I probably had breast cancer. We kept the news to ourselves except for family and very close friends until the Sunday after Christmas--I was scheduled for a biopsy on Monday. I remember sitting in the living room while usual, traditional things happened all around us. Tommy was twelve; Marty was eight. I was aware that I might be spending my last Christmas with them and I was both sad and afraid. Here we are almost 30 years later and I am more aware than ever that each Christmas could be the last one that our family is together--in spirit, if not in body. The difference today is that I don't observe; I don't just let it happen. I am determined to participate and love every minute. This year I am especially grateful of the rest from treatment; I am grateful for energy to go to the grocery; I am grateful that I have learned to sit while doing many kitchen tasks. I am grateful for friends and family who don't listen to me when I tell them "I can do it myself." I am grateful for a husband who keeps on trying and keeps on loving and keeps on remembering the vows we took.
There have been some rough days when Tom's illness has taken over, when he has been too confused to know the difference between day and night. He gets a new scrape or bruise almost every day. We get impatient with one another, but have learned to talk about things as best we can, say "I'm sorry" and move ahead. All the time I know that he probably won't remember what we said.
None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. This may be the last Christmas many of us spend with our families. We just don't know! It's as the gospel song says, "We do not know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future." That is our hope; it is our assurance!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
We spent Christmas 2009 with Tom in the hospital and began 2010 with him in the nursing home. He had taken a definite turn for the worst and wondered if he would ever come home again. God, in His mercy, answered our prayers for improvement and he came home the first week in February. His condition is definitely deteriorating, with bad days outnumbering good days. Still, we have had some great times together and with our family.
Marty, Kevin and their three came for a visit around Easter and we were able to spend a long weekend with them in November when we went to Raleigh so I could baptize Colin. Marty has introduced me to Skype so we can visit "face to face" to see how the boys are growing. Mallory is in her first year of high school--hard to believe. Being around the corner from Tommy and Liz means sharing ordinary days, holidays and birthdays. I have loved watching Jacob develop his musical abilities and the two younger girls learn how to play together. Drew is very consciencious with his school work, but not so much in keeping up with things. I wonder if we have an "absent minded professor" in the making. Sarah helps both her mom and her dad around the house and is really good with her little sisters. I haven't cooked with her so much this year, but hope to resume that soon. They are all growing up too fast to suit me.
Our holidays have been relaxing--for the most part. I've enjoyed baking and having food to share. We had friends for dinner a couple of weeks ago and they brought beautiful pictures of a three month trip they took to Alaska in the summer and another about ten day one to South Africa in the fall. The travelogue was especially meanigful to Tom and me since we don't travel so well any more. Christmas Eve we had Tommy's family, plus Liz's mom and dad for dinner; I took stollen and ham biscuits to add to Christmas breakfast at Tommy's and went back that night with a plate full of goodies. I have made enough biscuits in the last two weeks to feed a small army! It was the right decision to start ordering 25 pound bags of flour from King Arthur.
One of my favorite things about Christmas is mail time. I love seeing pictures of children and grandchildren; I love hearing what everyone has been doing; I love knowing of others' lives. I am reminded of how grateful I am for friends and how I need to pray for each one. We were saddened one day to see the names of two who had special places in our life in a list of memorials. One was the name of the lady who was my mentor/friend when I did my Christian Education fieldwork and the same lady who arranged the first date Tom and I had with each other. The second was a friend with whom we shared lots of memories.
We learned in early December, 1981 that I probably had breast cancer. We kept the news to ourselves except for family and very close friends until the Sunday after Christmas--I was scheduled for a biopsy on Monday. I remember sitting in the living room while usual, traditional things happened all around us. Tommy was twelve; Marty was eight. I was aware that I might be spending my last Christmas with them and I was both sad and afraid. Here we are almost 30 years later and I am more aware than ever that each Christmas could be the last one that our family is together--in spirit, if not in body. The difference today is that I don't observe; I don't just let it happen. I am determined to participate and love every minute. This year I am especially grateful of the rest from treatment; I am grateful for energy to go to the grocery; I am grateful that I have learned to sit while doing many kitchen tasks. I am grateful for friends and family who don't listen to me when I tell them "I can do it myself." I am grateful for a husband who keeps on trying and keeps on loving and keeps on remembering the vows we took.
There have been some rough days when Tom's illness has taken over, when he has been too confused to know the difference between day and night. He gets a new scrape or bruise almost every day. We get impatient with one another, but have learned to talk about things as best we can, say "I'm sorry" and move ahead. All the time I know that he probably won't remember what we said.
None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. This may be the last Christmas many of us spend with our families. We just don't know! It's as the gospel song says, "We do not know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future." That is our hope; it is our assurance!
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
All Things Bright and Beautiful
The Lord did indeed make them all! Ours has been a wonderful Advent season, highlighted by Tuesday noon services at the church we attend. Guest musicians have provided special music and guest ministers have led in Advent devotionals. After each service we have gathered to share simple lunches in the fellowship hall and the visiting around the tables has added to the day. Sunday, a week ago, the choir presented their annual cantata during the worship hour. Frankly, I have never liked for the music to take the place of the spoken word, but I'll have to say that the music that morning was absolutely glorious. Scripture readings began with the Creation in Genesis and continued through God's plan for our salvation and the birth of Jesus. This past Sunday found us headed to Humboldt to worship with our friends there. One delightful lady was celebrating her 96th birthday and the church had planned a little surprise party for her after the service. The minister's text was the Matthew 1 story of Joseph's learning of Mary's pregnancy and his response. The delightful part was that she assumed the character of Joseph and dramatically shared in first person. It has been a season of anticipation and thanksgiving for the gift of Jesus.
Together Tom and I have baked, shopped, decorated and enjoyed friends and family. The one thing that hasn't been done is no Christmas cards have been sent. My address list got stuck somewhere between the old and new laptops so I have been carefully recording addresses as card come to us. Yesterday we went to Memphis to shop in two specific stores: a men's store for Tom and Penzey's spice store. My cousin met us at Penzey's and the three of us went to lunch. It was nice to enjoy excellent service, cloth tablecloths and napkins and great food. We had a wonderful visit as well. Tom, of course, listens more than he talks--we don't give him much opportunity, if you want to know the truth.
Last night as we approached our house I noticed the porch light was on and remarked that someone had been here. Then when as I prepared to make the wide swing to get into our garage we saw both Tommy and Elizabeth's vans. Tommy had bought us a tree and the two of them were busily setting it up when we arrived. (There was a tell tale trail of evergreen needles from the back door into the living room.) Liz, who I have desiganted as the "light queen," put the lights on and we began putting on the ornaments after they went home. I don't know who gets the most joy out of this experience that they duplicate each year.
Tonight we celebrated Meredith's fifth birthday. She was not quite a year old when we moved here and today she is a delightful little girl, full of imagination and affection for her family. Big sister Sarah had the stomach bug and had to miss the party, but Mimi, Liz's mom, was able to join us by Skype. Modern technology is something else!
More cooking follows--and of course, more eating. We are so blessed to have family and friends and we have loved hearing from many and seeing pictures. We wish you the most wonderful of Christmases full of hope, peace, joy and love made possible by the gift of Jesus.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
The Lord did indeed make them all! Ours has been a wonderful Advent season, highlighted by Tuesday noon services at the church we attend. Guest musicians have provided special music and guest ministers have led in Advent devotionals. After each service we have gathered to share simple lunches in the fellowship hall and the visiting around the tables has added to the day. Sunday, a week ago, the choir presented their annual cantata during the worship hour. Frankly, I have never liked for the music to take the place of the spoken word, but I'll have to say that the music that morning was absolutely glorious. Scripture readings began with the Creation in Genesis and continued through God's plan for our salvation and the birth of Jesus. This past Sunday found us headed to Humboldt to worship with our friends there. One delightful lady was celebrating her 96th birthday and the church had planned a little surprise party for her after the service. The minister's text was the Matthew 1 story of Joseph's learning of Mary's pregnancy and his response. The delightful part was that she assumed the character of Joseph and dramatically shared in first person. It has been a season of anticipation and thanksgiving for the gift of Jesus.
Together Tom and I have baked, shopped, decorated and enjoyed friends and family. The one thing that hasn't been done is no Christmas cards have been sent. My address list got stuck somewhere between the old and new laptops so I have been carefully recording addresses as card come to us. Yesterday we went to Memphis to shop in two specific stores: a men's store for Tom and Penzey's spice store. My cousin met us at Penzey's and the three of us went to lunch. It was nice to enjoy excellent service, cloth tablecloths and napkins and great food. We had a wonderful visit as well. Tom, of course, listens more than he talks--we don't give him much opportunity, if you want to know the truth.
Last night as we approached our house I noticed the porch light was on and remarked that someone had been here. Then when as I prepared to make the wide swing to get into our garage we saw both Tommy and Elizabeth's vans. Tommy had bought us a tree and the two of them were busily setting it up when we arrived. (There was a tell tale trail of evergreen needles from the back door into the living room.) Liz, who I have desiganted as the "light queen," put the lights on and we began putting on the ornaments after they went home. I don't know who gets the most joy out of this experience that they duplicate each year.
Tonight we celebrated Meredith's fifth birthday. She was not quite a year old when we moved here and today she is a delightful little girl, full of imagination and affection for her family. Big sister Sarah had the stomach bug and had to miss the party, but Mimi, Liz's mom, was able to join us by Skype. Modern technology is something else!
More cooking follows--and of course, more eating. We are so blessed to have family and friends and we have loved hearing from many and seeing pictures. We wish you the most wonderful of Christmases full of hope, peace, joy and love made possible by the gift of Jesus.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Cancer
Cancer and its effects have been on my mind this week. It started as I thought about Marty visiting her friend Susan in DC. (I actually have two Susan friends who have cancer and from time to time I have asked you to pray for them.) Well, the DC Susan is Marty's oldest and dearest friend who was diagnossed with inflammatory breast cancer three years ago when her younger son was about three months old. More often than not, this particular breast cancer is a killer. Susan underwent agressive chemo and radiation, went into remission and then had a bilateral mastectomy and hysterectomy. She resumed work from home doing special projects for NASA (she's an astro-physicist), started a blog for moms with cancer and became quite vocal as an advocate for breast cancer awareness, particularly the kind she had. Then this past spring she heard the dreaded words from her doctor that cancer cells were discovered in lymph nodes under her arm. Back she went for more radiation and was put on an oral chemo drug which has wreaked havoc on her body. Still, she mustered the energy for Marty to visit along with her two boys for three or four days last week. Monday the oncologist recommended they stop the chemo because of the toll it was taking repeat scans in January to see if the drug has wiped out the cancer. Susan, naturally, has had some questions about the doctor's recommendation.
Then came the announcement on that very Monday that treatment had been stopped for Elizabeth Edwards. Most of us who heard that understood that her death would be emminent, but were somewhat surprised to learn that she died Tuesday morning. She was a brave woman who chose to live with her disease rather than to await her death. She was also a high profile person who endured the public humility of her husband's infidelity. Her grace and dignity in the midst of her suffering most certainly will be the legacy she leaves. I can only wonder if she had questions about her decision to stop treatment when she did.
Mrs. Edwards's influence will be felt across the country. Susan influences many daily as she blogs, as she shares in the scientific community and as she continues her life as wife and mother. She, too, has a large audience. Many more of us have much smaller circles of influence, but no matter how known or unknown we are, we have family and friends who love and support us and who pray for our healing. Cancer is no respector of persons!
My other friend, Susan who has ovarian cancer, faced new decisions regarding her treatment recently. There were questions as to the best course to take. Was she making the right decision? How would it affect her life? Would the new treatment be more effective than the previous one?
The events of the week raised questions for me as well. My last treatment was November 19 and have not actually been told when they will be resumed. They were stopped so that my body could have a much needed rest, but I can't help but wonder if there is something I don't know. Are we about to face the decision between quantity and quality? How much will be have to play "catch up" when I begin again? How much ground will have been lost, if any? Will we enjoy aa period of remission? There are always questions. We all have them.
I hate cancer. I hate what it does to its victims. I hate, especially, what it does to family and friends of those who have it. My heart aches when I remember Tom hearing, not once, but several times about the cancer in my body; it aches when I remember having to tell our children and it aches when I remember the look on Tommy's face when the doctor told us that the disease is incurable and predicted how long I'd live--even though he was wrong with his calculations. These are the things that make me sad.
I am sustained by the knowledge that God is bigger than any cancer and as one Susan reminds me, He is on duty 24/7. The heartache shrinks when I remember how blessed I am to have such a loving, caring husband, children and other family who express their love and concern in too many ways to count and friends far and wide who stay close. There will always be questions, but we need not fear when we trust such a faithful God as we have. During this Advent, as we prepare to celebrate the coming of Jesus, I am especially reminded of the hope, peace, joy and love He brought.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Cancer and its effects have been on my mind this week. It started as I thought about Marty visiting her friend Susan in DC. (I actually have two Susan friends who have cancer and from time to time I have asked you to pray for them.) Well, the DC Susan is Marty's oldest and dearest friend who was diagnossed with inflammatory breast cancer three years ago when her younger son was about three months old. More often than not, this particular breast cancer is a killer. Susan underwent agressive chemo and radiation, went into remission and then had a bilateral mastectomy and hysterectomy. She resumed work from home doing special projects for NASA (she's an astro-physicist), started a blog for moms with cancer and became quite vocal as an advocate for breast cancer awareness, particularly the kind she had. Then this past spring she heard the dreaded words from her doctor that cancer cells were discovered in lymph nodes under her arm. Back she went for more radiation and was put on an oral chemo drug which has wreaked havoc on her body. Still, she mustered the energy for Marty to visit along with her two boys for three or four days last week. Monday the oncologist recommended they stop the chemo because of the toll it was taking repeat scans in January to see if the drug has wiped out the cancer. Susan, naturally, has had some questions about the doctor's recommendation.
Then came the announcement on that very Monday that treatment had been stopped for Elizabeth Edwards. Most of us who heard that understood that her death would be emminent, but were somewhat surprised to learn that she died Tuesday morning. She was a brave woman who chose to live with her disease rather than to await her death. She was also a high profile person who endured the public humility of her husband's infidelity. Her grace and dignity in the midst of her suffering most certainly will be the legacy she leaves. I can only wonder if she had questions about her decision to stop treatment when she did.
Mrs. Edwards's influence will be felt across the country. Susan influences many daily as she blogs, as she shares in the scientific community and as she continues her life as wife and mother. She, too, has a large audience. Many more of us have much smaller circles of influence, but no matter how known or unknown we are, we have family and friends who love and support us and who pray for our healing. Cancer is no respector of persons!
My other friend, Susan who has ovarian cancer, faced new decisions regarding her treatment recently. There were questions as to the best course to take. Was she making the right decision? How would it affect her life? Would the new treatment be more effective than the previous one?
The events of the week raised questions for me as well. My last treatment was November 19 and have not actually been told when they will be resumed. They were stopped so that my body could have a much needed rest, but I can't help but wonder if there is something I don't know. Are we about to face the decision between quantity and quality? How much will be have to play "catch up" when I begin again? How much ground will have been lost, if any? Will we enjoy aa period of remission? There are always questions. We all have them.
I hate cancer. I hate what it does to its victims. I hate, especially, what it does to family and friends of those who have it. My heart aches when I remember Tom hearing, not once, but several times about the cancer in my body; it aches when I remember having to tell our children and it aches when I remember the look on Tommy's face when the doctor told us that the disease is incurable and predicted how long I'd live--even though he was wrong with his calculations. These are the things that make me sad.
I am sustained by the knowledge that God is bigger than any cancer and as one Susan reminds me, He is on duty 24/7. The heartache shrinks when I remember how blessed I am to have such a loving, caring husband, children and other family who express their love and concern in too many ways to count and friends far and wide who stay close. There will always be questions, but we need not fear when we trust such a faithful God as we have. During this Advent, as we prepare to celebrate the coming of Jesus, I am especially reminded of the hope, peace, joy and love He brought.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Anticipation
It's really cold outside--hasn't gotten out of the thirties yesterday or today and Johnny Mathis is entertaining us with "It's Beginning to Look Alot Like Christmas." Anticipation is mounting.
I am missing posting Advent devotionals this year, but I simply didn't start writing early enough to meet the deadline to have them printed. I have been using a booklet my one of my favorite writers, the late Henri Nouwen and today we went to the noon Advent service at our church. Each Tuesday during the season there is a service featuring special music and a guest minister. Today our organist presented the music playing an original composition and two hymns he and the guest minister had written. After we had sung the hymns, he improvised on the tunes. He closed with an arrangement of "Joy to the World." It was a special worship service followed by a soup luncheon in the fellowship hall.
Little by little I've been getting out our Christmas things and am surprised almost every time I open a box. Last year I didn't feel like getting out much, then Tom went to the hospital and I was glad I hadn't. I had forgotten where I had stored some things and in some cases, even forgotten I had something I found. We love our old decorations and the memories they hold, but it's fun to add new touches too. The hard part is remembering where things are! If I put something out everyday, I should be through decorating by the time it's time to put it away again.
Yesterday I made a family favorite, cherry refrigerator cookies. They aren't necessarily just for Christmas but are full of red and green candied cherries so they fit the color scheme. Traditionally, I make stollen and lemon muffins for Christmas breakfast so will probably do those next and put them in the freezer. If I cook something everyday, we should have lots to eat and lots to share. That works for me.
Our front bedroom looks like the North Pole with piles of both wrapped and unwrapped gifts. Liz does the Black Friday thing, making periodic stops throughout the morning to drop off her "finds." This year Marty had some of her gifts sent here for me to wrap and they add to the piles. Somewhere in all of that are the things I have to get in the mail. If I wrap a few everyday, we should be organized and ready.
Had the oncologist not given me a month free of treatment, not much of the above would be taking place. What a gift! It adds to our anticipation of the celebration of the birth of our Saviour. We are full of hope, peace, joy and love: hope because of God's grace; peace as we trust Him for our every need; joy that comes from knowing that we are God's children; and love for all our family and friends. We wish for you those things as well.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
It's really cold outside--hasn't gotten out of the thirties yesterday or today and Johnny Mathis is entertaining us with "It's Beginning to Look Alot Like Christmas." Anticipation is mounting.
I am missing posting Advent devotionals this year, but I simply didn't start writing early enough to meet the deadline to have them printed. I have been using a booklet my one of my favorite writers, the late Henri Nouwen and today we went to the noon Advent service at our church. Each Tuesday during the season there is a service featuring special music and a guest minister. Today our organist presented the music playing an original composition and two hymns he and the guest minister had written. After we had sung the hymns, he improvised on the tunes. He closed with an arrangement of "Joy to the World." It was a special worship service followed by a soup luncheon in the fellowship hall.
Little by little I've been getting out our Christmas things and am surprised almost every time I open a box. Last year I didn't feel like getting out much, then Tom went to the hospital and I was glad I hadn't. I had forgotten where I had stored some things and in some cases, even forgotten I had something I found. We love our old decorations and the memories they hold, but it's fun to add new touches too. The hard part is remembering where things are! If I put something out everyday, I should be through decorating by the time it's time to put it away again.
Yesterday I made a family favorite, cherry refrigerator cookies. They aren't necessarily just for Christmas but are full of red and green candied cherries so they fit the color scheme. Traditionally, I make stollen and lemon muffins for Christmas breakfast so will probably do those next and put them in the freezer. If I cook something everyday, we should have lots to eat and lots to share. That works for me.
Our front bedroom looks like the North Pole with piles of both wrapped and unwrapped gifts. Liz does the Black Friday thing, making periodic stops throughout the morning to drop off her "finds." This year Marty had some of her gifts sent here for me to wrap and they add to the piles. Somewhere in all of that are the things I have to get in the mail. If I wrap a few everyday, we should be organized and ready.
Had the oncologist not given me a month free of treatment, not much of the above would be taking place. What a gift! It adds to our anticipation of the celebration of the birth of our Saviour. We are full of hope, peace, joy and love: hope because of God's grace; peace as we trust Him for our every need; joy that comes from knowing that we are God's children; and love for all our family and friends. We wish for you those things as well.
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret
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