What I Chose to Leave Behind

Books can represent signposts on my spiritual journey. I recently went over our bookshelves because they overflowed with books. They got to that point on account of the generosity of others who wanted to pass on books that we might like to read. I didn’t want the bookshelves to look so messy so I began a purge. I first asked God to show me which books I no longer needed so that I could bless other people.

There were books that had been significant at a particular stage in my spiritual journey. They had assisted me in attaining emotional and spiritual healing after a devastating event that changed the course of my life on many levels. I knew that certain wounds were no longer open and festering, but had healed over and were now scars. I had recently heard a teaching or read something that said we should be thankful for our scars because they mean we have been healed. I could definitely see that on a physical level because of the scar from my hysterectomy surgery when I had Ovarian Cancer. I thought again how Jesus retained the scars from His crucifixion after His resurrection. Scars were nothing to be ashamed of but rather to be celebrated as having made it!

The outward way that I purposely left behind the books I no longer needed was by donating them to the local thrift store. One of the books was a German textbook that I had from when I took a night course on conversational German before I was married over 35 years ago. I think that book and the releasing of it represented another aspect of me knowing who I am as an individual. I often held on to things, books included, because one day I might need it. God has, through the years, shown me how He provides the things I need and I can trust Him to show me what I can leave behind.

(This was written in response to a prompt for my writers'group to write "about what got left behind on purpose")

Weighing the Worth of Expenses

I like to have the satisfaction of money well-spent. I like to have something worthwhile to show for the expense so I was not looking forward to spending money to remove a tree. I wasn’t gaining anything except peace of mind. The fir tree stood over 60 feet tall, right between two outbuildings – a shed and a studio. The last windstorm left the tree with a decidedly-curved trunk that was leaning toward the studio. It wouldn’t take much for the top portion of the tree to fall on the studio’s roof should we get another such windstorm.

We have had a similar tree removed in the past year because it was between the studio and our house. We feared it might fall on our roof or our neighbour’s roof so we made the decision to remove it along with the fir tree in our front yard that was dying. That was a big expense because we not only removed two trees, but we also had the roots removed from the front yard so that we could plant a new tree in its place.  We decided to plant a deciduous tree, Freeman Autumn Blaze Maple. 

It was quite a shock when the front fir tree was removed because our front porch was now visible from the street. We had been used to the privacy that the fir tree provided because of the breadth of its branches. When we first moved in we were able to string Christmas lights on it, but then it grew too tall for us to reach with our ladder. The one side of the tree that had a northern exposure suffered the most and it eventually looked pitiful because there was no new growth and the existing branches were dying.

In a way spending money can be similar to obeying God because we are spending our time. Sometimes we know that we should do something we don’t want to do because it will cost us our time or finances. We like to get something in return for what we have spent or expended. We are to be wise stewards of the resources we have whether financial or spiritual. This world and everything in it is passing away and there will be a new earth along with a new heaven. Although I may still have to spend money begrudgingly on something that does not satisfy, I look forward to when I will inherit that which is without cost, water from the spring of water of life that Jesus will give me.

“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David.” Isaiah 55:1-3 NIV

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. “He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true. “He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.” Revelation 21:1-7 NIV

Photos of Short Hair

To go along with my post "Short Hair - Part Two"

Short curly hair after chemo

Short wavy hair

Short Hair - Part Two

Hair or the lack thereof is an expression of our individuality. When I was undergoing chemotherapy and my hair began to fall out I found it very traumatic. When I had finished my chemo treatments and the hair began to grow again I longed for it to grow quickly so I would look like me again. My hair grew back curly and then the curls softened into waves when my hair grew longer. I recently discovered pictures of my hair from that time and I had wondered why I had not kept it that length since I liked how it looked.

I knew that I needed a haircut and I had to do something with my hair. I felt as if the long sides were like dog’s ears just hanging there. I would often play with my hair, twisting it while I watched TV. My husband had recently suggested that I get a modern hairstyle when I told him I was considering cutting my hair. I dared to have my hair cut short because it once was this short after I had chemo.

My daughter Joy is a hairstylist and I asked her what she would do with my hair if I was a client that came in to the hair salon. I said that she has the advantage of knowing me and my desire for a low-maintenance hairstyle. Knowing that my hair has a natural wave, Joy decided to razor cut it for a softer look.  At first she left the sides a bit longer so it was more like a wedge haircut and not as drastic a change, but I didn’t like how it looked so she cut them off and blended the sides in with the back. I still had a longer bang that I parted to the side. I decided to wash my hair so that the hair would just fall naturally and to see if I wanted to keep that longer bang or to go for a shorter fringe of bangs. After looking at myself in the mirror from different angles, I decided that I would have the shorter bangs.

I had a sense of sadness when I thought why I knew I could risk cutting my hair so short. As I thought about it I remembered how important it was for me to regain a normal life after having cancer, including having the same hairstyle as before. That was the reason I didn’t keep my hair short. Now I was making a choice to have short hair rather than just coping with hair regrowth.

I feel exposed with my hair so short almost as if I had been hiding behind my same safe hairstyle. My earlobes, cheekbones and neck are now more noticeable.  I don’t feel different inside, but when I walk past a mirror I am surprised at how different I look. It is a drastic change but one that I shall embrace as Part Two in having short hair.

Outdoor Sounds From An Open Window

Hum of a lawnmower

Tweeting of birds

Chirping

Trilling

Low sound of tires spinning on pavement;

as time goes on the volume increases.

Dog barking

Road construction

Metal clinking, scraping

Sounds like a giant stapler

Loud humming like a drone

Sirens – Police? Fire?

GO train’s horn blows announcing it is coming to town

Children walking home from school – talking

A man walking a dog stops to talk with someone

 and is warned about another dog on a different street

Rain sounding like persistent dripping as it hits the eaves trough and downspout

Horn beeps as a car is locked

Beeping as a truck backs up

Life Lessons

A phrase from a song was going over in my mind “my will to live is for You”. It is from the song You Surround Me by Brian Doerksen on the album You Shine. I was thinking how God does surround me. He gives me the will to live; and not to just live, but live for Him. The words for the song include the Gaelic words and their translation. The English phrase is “my whole will to live is for You, You’ve awakened me to know” the translation of the Gaelic is “You gave meaning and sense to my life; You’ve awakened my heart”. I can’t live “my life” without God. My life can be my physical life or all that transpires in my life.

A few years ago I celebrated my 50^th birthday. I did not have any regret or anxiety to have reached such an age. I was thankful to be alive. I have been cancer-free since April 2008. I am a cancer survivor. It does not define me entirely, but it is like a frame in which the rest of what makes me “me” is displayed. I say that it is a frame because I cannot erase the past, nor undo the consequences. Yet cancer does not direct my life.

I cannot explain why God healed me and others have not been healed. I am thankful for God’s mercy, grace and compassion toward me. I was listening to a song about God showing up and I thought, “He did! He healed me!” I started to cry because I realized that I had been afraid that I would die when I was first diagnosed with cancer. It seemed like a death sentence. I even had to battle fear of dying when I went for the operation. I had such a sense of gratefulness to God for preserving my life and healing me from ovarian cancer.

I was seeking the Lord as to what my response was to be concerning a woman from our church who was on life support. I was to look to the Lord; keep my eyes on Jesus. Just like the Israelites had to look at the bronze snake on the pole. I was not to look at anyone else as a sign of God’s plan or faithfulness to me personally. I was to continue trusting God to restore me and strengthen me. She was in God’s hands. I was in God’s hands. My life does not need to impact hundreds. I only need to be faithful to God and obedient to Him. The word God gave to me is “Follow Me.” The story about Peter asking Jesus about John had come to mind. I sensed God saying to me about that woman dying – “What is that to you? “You must follow Me.”

I was again feeling burdened to do something big for God or to have “great impact on others”. A former co-host on 100 Huntley Street , was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour. I was feeling guilty or condemned that God had healed me and what did I have to show for it? As I read an update I heard God say to me in my spirit, “Do you trust Me? I am in control”. My eyes were opened to see that I am faithful to use the gifts, talents and abilities God has given me. God does not require of me to do more or to be something that I am not. It is by God’s grace and mercy that I have been spared. I need to continue to follow Jesus, no matter what happens to anyone else who is, or seems to be, more gifted than me. God is sovereign and He has a plan for each of us individually including the fact that these women were not healed in this life. I can still thank God that He healed me, while thanking Him that these women are now with Him. It is not pride or arrogance. I have never felt that I deserved to live or that I was more worthy or special. I am blown away by the intervention of God. I believed that He would heal me and He did.

Recently I shared about my health tests and how I struggled with already having my quota of miracles. It isn’t that I consciously thought that, but God exposed that lie.  One morning words from a song came to mind and I was singing them – “choose to be a blessing for life”. It is from the song “The Blessing” by Troy Denning. I think that this is part of my life’s passion – that I would be a blessing for life. My heart belongs to Jesus. I will speak the words of life. I want to leave behind a legacy of blessing for life. I see now through this episode of unsure health issues that I want to choose to be a blessing for life. I choose life. I don’t want to die. I want to live. It is not selfish or self-seeking to want to live and not die. I desire to continue to be a blessing to others. I am grateful to God for the way He intervenes in my life.

[I wrote the above post in response to the Writers' Nest monthly topic. God had impressed upon me these "Life Lessons", which I have gleaned from my journals kept over the past seven years.]

Family Day Weekend Snippets

Frequent communication with family members
A desire for diagnosis and proper care for ..
Mother-in-law in hospital
Ice-fishing trip today with father and son, and a friend
Looked after daughter's dog for an afternoon while she visited a friend
Yesterday saw ultrasound pictures of our future grandchild

Dinner celebrating our daughter-in-law's birthday
All my children together
Yet my son-in-law was unable to join us as he had to work

Getting Lost & Then Finding My Self

I was prompted by a blog post to look at this topic [*] differently and apply it to my true self getting lost in the process of dying to self. I came to faith in Jesus when I was a young teenager. At the time I was beginning to discover and develop into who I was as an individual. I was taking university level courses with the aim in mind of pursuing further education. I also took a creative writing course one semester since I desired to write.  I took interpretive dance classes for several years and I even had an opportunity to do interpretive dance in a Christian setting which I enjoyed. We moved and then life got busy with work and church restrictions lessened the importance and desirability of dance classes.

There were two decisive factors which led me to forgo pursuing further education. We came under a legalistic method of living which precluded further education for women at a secular university. The second omen-like factor was that the number assigned to me for my university application included the numbers 666, which is the number of the antichrist. We were convinced that Jesus was coming soon and I did not want to do anything that would make me unworthy of escaping the Great Tribulation.

 Well about thirty years passed and I fulfilled a longing I had for further education by taking a bridging course for women which was sponsored by York University Women’s Program.  While I did well in that course I did not decide to pursue further education at that time. It satisfied my longing and validated my ability which was further confirmed when I was asked to write an essay about my experience taking this course. The program was celebrating their 25^th year with the publication of a book, which would contain essays by a few women from the hundreds who had taken this course. Taking this bridging course and doing well and then writing an essay for the book nudged me in the direction of pursuing writing; joining a writers’ group; and creating a blog.

Over the years I longed to have the opportunity to do creative dance again in the context of worship.  About seven years ago a young woman taught several dance workshops at my church. I enjoyed taking part and she invited me to be a part of a group of ladies who would do a liturgical dance at our church for the Christmas Eve service. I felt alive when I was taking part in this and while many people were surprised to see me dancing, they felt that I was good at it. One of the women in the group encouraged me to take adult ballet classes at a local dance studio where the young woman taught classes. After my first dance class some of the women commented that I was a natural and that they could tell that I once took dance. That was an encouragement to me and I continued to take the classes for another full year. I had the opportunity to perform in a special worship celebration service at a church the month before I was diagnosed with stage 3 Ovarian Cancer.

It has been a journey of discovering who I really am as an individual and what it means to deny myself as a follower of Christ. I now have a greater understanding that God created me to be creative, which includes the ability to write and to dance. I am still learning to deny myself by not giving in to selfishness and allowing the Holy Spirit to express the fruit of the Spirit in my life. I now realize that both statements are not in conflict nor do they contradict each other. So I can be a woman who writes, dances, and exhibits the fruit of the Spirit, all to the glory of God.

* ["Getting Lost" was this evening's topic for the writers' group.]

My Ovarian Cancer Journey

Ovarian Cancer has been described as "the disease that whispers".  Looking back I heard the whispers, but I did not know what they meant. The summer of 2007 I noticed that I had a small "pot" that was hard, but I did not do anything about it. I thought that I would mention it when I had my physical in the fall. Others had noticed my "pot", but at the time had only thought I had gained some weight. While we were at a cottage, I started to experience indigestion and bloating. I went to my family doctor when I returned home. She had initially thought that I might have a blocked intestine so she put me on stool softeners and a laxative; and she arranged for me to see a bowel specialist.

I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as my abdomen increased in size. My husband took me to Emergency. The attending doctor was uninformed about Ovarian Cancer so he suggested that maybe I was pregnant and did not know it. When it was discovered that I had had ultrasounds earlier in the week, the staff were able to obtain the results, which recommended that I have a CAT scan.

On the following Monday my husband and I drove to Orillia. The bowel specialist told us that after looking at my ultrasounds I did not need his care as it was not a blocked intestine. We shared about our experience at Southlake and the recommendation for me to get a CAT scan. The doctor informed us that he was chief of staff at the Orillia hospital and he would personally arrange for me to have a CAT scan that day. He said he would also arrange to have the results immediately so he could personally direct us to the correct specialist. Finally we were getting somewhere!

My doctor obtained the written results the next day, and we met with her the following day to discuss the findings. By this time I was very uncomfortable and I was having trouble breathing. My husband insisted that something be done for me. My doctor arranged for me to go to Emergency at Southlake and the chief internist would examine me there. The specialist examined me and told me that they were going to admit me until they not only discovered what was causing this, but also began the appropriate treatment.

Several days later, I was visited by a nursing assistant from the oncology department and informed that I did have a tumour on my ovary. She talked in general terms and I did not expect that it would be serious. I thought that it might be only Stage I Ovarian Cancer. I asked her for information regarding Ovarian Cancer since I had never heard of it before that day.

Later that evening the oncologist came and informed me that I had Stage III Ovarian Cancer and that I would need to have my ovaries removed as well as a hysterectomy. She told me that I needed chemotherapy and that I would lose my hair. My husband and I met with the surgeon on a Wednesday, two weeks after I was first admitted to Southlake, and I began chemotherapy the next day as an inpatient. I was then released from the hospital the following day and I had the remainder of my chemo as an outpatient.

When I had Ovarian Cancer and was undergoing treatment I felt as though I was a "prisoner" in my own body. I had no real control over my body or my life at that time. The cancer caused my body to react by producing fluid (ascites) in my abdomen, which I needed to have drained on several occasions. It was rather scary the first time, but I wanted relief. I also had lost a lot of weight - probably between 25 and 30 pounds. Many times right after receiving chemo I did not feel like eating for the first few days, or I was too nauseous to keep anything down. I was trying to regain weight in order to build up my strength to cope with the chemo treatments. These were times I would not want to repeat.

I had another CA125 blood test that showed a significant decrease in the levels after two rounds of chemo. The numbers went from 4095 down to 278; the normal range is 0-35. I knew that the cancer was not spreading, but was being destroyed! After my third round of chemo my CA125 was 58. I had a total of four rounds of chemo and then I had my surgery five weeks later followed by two more rounds of chemo.

When I was taken to the operating room my husband went to wait in the designated waiting room. There was a screen that displayed the patients' names, operating room numbers, starting time of surgery and when surgery finished. After an hour and a quarter my operation stated "closed", which meant that the operation was over. My husband asked the volunteer about that and she said it must be a mistake, but fifteen minutes later the surgeon appeared and called Dan's name. He met with the surgeon in a small room. The surgeon said "This was quite astounding; we were not able to find any cancer." My husband replied that there have been "hundreds of people praying” for me; to which the surgeon said "I think it was the chemo". One of the doctors present during surgery visited me and Dan asked her more details. She said that they didn't see any tumour on the ovary and they didn’t have to take any lymph nodes or do anything to other organs. The pathology report did show cancer cells on the inside of the ovaries and fallopian tubes.

My CA 125 level after my fifth chemo treatment was 12 and after I had a sixth chemo treatment it was 8. I had follow-up appointments with my oncologist every 3 months for the first year after finishing my chemotherapy. The second year I saw the oncologist every 6 months and each time my CA125 was either 7 or 8, which is well within the normal range of 0-35. My third year follow-up appointment was a year later. The fourth year before my annual appointment I had CT scans of my chest, abdomen and pelvis to establish a baseline. The results were all clear and my blood tests also came back normal. I had my final fifth year annual appointment in April 2013. As you can imagine I am happy and relieved to be healthy.

 I want to share the possible symptoms of Ovarian Cancer which are:

- Swelling or bloating of the abdomen

- Back or abdominal pain

- Excessive fatigue

- Gas, nausea, indigestion

If any of these symptoms persist for more than 2 to 3 weeks, see your Physician and be persistent in obtaining tests if these symptoms don't go away. As you can realize, these symptoms are very vague; almost every woman has had one or all of them, and that it is why it is called the Whispering Disease.

If you would like more information about Ovarian Cancer please go to this website:
http://www.ovariancanada.org/

Alphabetical Farm Memories

Ambitions for growing corn
Bird in the woodstove
Clothes hanging on the long clothesline
Daddy's coming home song that began with "Where is Daddy?"
Eating our meals outside on the picnic table
Forts in the trees
Goat under the front stoop
Hot air balloon landed in our farm field
Ice rink formed by pooled water that froze
Jars of homemade jam, pickles and preserves
Kittens born to our cat Ginger
Long driveway that needed to be plowed often on account of snow drifts as well as snowfalls
Mouse in the kitchen
No water one winter
One hundred acre farm - the fields were rented to a local farmer
Plastic swimming pool for the children
Quiet much of the time
Rural route mailing address
Swing set with an attached slide
Toby, our golden retriever
Using our zucchini harvest in many different ways
Vegetable garden
Woodstove to keep us warm in the winter
X can stand for Christ - Catholic procession up our rural road from one church to another
Young children who were born while we lived on the farm
Zucchinis so big that they were shared

A Grandmother's Love

When I think about “love”, my mind is immediately drawn to my paternal grandmother Reva Tomlinson.

I am the eldest of three girls, but not the eldest granddaughter on my father’s side of the family. Grandma Tomlinson always wanted to have a daughter but she only had two sons, my father being her youngest. I had a special place in my grandmother’s heart and she in mine. I enjoyed spending time with her even into my teenage years.

My high school, Lawrence Park Collegiate Institute, was located near the street my grandparents lived on. There were times when I would walk along Brookdale Avenue, toward their home and the burdens of the day would slip away. Grandma would welcome me in and of course I would be offered some milk and cookies. Grandma loved to bake and she would have at least three tins of different cookies. She stored her cookie tins in the back porch, which was unheated. Sometimes I would be invited to stay for supper and then later my grandfather would drive me home.

  One time I stayed at their home for two weeks while my parents went abroad since it was close to my high school. My younger sisters stayed at our home and were cared for by my maternal grandparents as they needed to be close to their elementary school. I even went to my uncle’s cottage with Grandma and Grandpa Tomlinson for a couple of days. I loved spending time with them and hearing their stories. Although, to my chagrin, I did complain to my dad on occasion that I had heard those stories repeated too many times. At the time I thought I would always remember every detail since I heard them so often. I wish that I had taken the time to record those stories in some form other than trying to rely solely on my memory.

I remember one time as a young preteen wanting to make Grandma beautiful for when Grandpa came home from work. For special occasions or when she was going out Reva wore rouge and face powder, which she allowed me to use on her. I also chose some clip-on earrings for her to wear with a matching necklace and even a broach. I can remember Grandpa playing along and commenting on how beautiful she looked, even if she was a tad overdressed!

Grandma loved to sew and when I was younger she sewed me and my dolls matching outfits. Reva made all her own clothes including her matching hats as she had once worked as a milliner. I loved to watch her sew and when I was old enough I asked her to teach me to sew. My mother had the same sewing machine and I was not allowed to touch it, but my grandmother took the time to teach me one-on-one. I also took sewing at school in junior high and later at summer school. I remember going to a fabric store with my grandparents to pick out some special polyester blend that I could use to make some outfits. That was in the seventies so that type of fabric was all the rage!

Grandma made each of the six grandchildren a traditional quilt and a yo-yo quilt. I remember one time my grandmother gave me some rather explicit advice to not let my husband love me on top of the yo-yo quilt as it would crush it. Grandma had a healthy view of the conjugal relationship and on occasion she did slip in some comments. She just said this so nonchalantly but as usual I was quite embarrassed.

My grandparents sold their home on Brookdale Avenue and moved to an apartment in Scarborough. We also moved from Willowdale to Downsview and I changed high schools for my final two years. If I wanted to visit my grandparents now I needed to take the TTC or get a drive with my parents. My grandfather passed away and Grandma stayed on in the apartment until she could no longer cook for herself. Reva was moved into the nursing home part of the complex, Shepherd Manor, where she could eat in a dining room with other seniors. Her move and further downsizing coincided with my family’s recent move to a bigger house and my upcoming marriage.

Grandma gave me her sewing machine and some money as a wedding gift. She had instructed me to trade in the sewing machine and add the money in order to purchase a newer fancier sewing machine. I could not bring myself to do it. I thought about all the clothes and other articles she had sewn with this machine and that if she was able to do all that with this machine then I would use it too. One time when I brought the machine in for service the serviceman said that it is a great machine and will keep working well as long as I maintain it. I have sewn many clothes for myself and my family as well as other items. I have used some of the attachments such as the buttonholer and the zipper foot but there are some fancier ones that I have yet to use.

The final item my grandmother gave me was her engagement ring. I didn’t receive it until after she had passed away. Grandma had noticed that I did not have an engagement ring and she told me that when she died she wanted me to have it. I had the ring resized as it was too big and now I wear that ring only on special occasions as I want to preserve it.

One day I thought about some of the items I have from Grandma Tomlinson and I was overwhelmed by the love that each item represented. Grandma passed on the love of a spouse; the love of family; the love of cooking and baking; the love of sewing; and the love of God. Grandma prayed for our family to come to know Jesus as our Lord and Saviour and she rejoiced when we did come to faith. I know that one day I will see her again and what a day of rejoicing that will be!

He Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I filled the kettle with water for the morning and then I remembered
He doesn’t live here anymore
As I was making up the orange juice I realized it was lasting longer
He doesn’t live here anymore
I don’t need to refill the honey jar as often
He doesn’t live here anymore
When I was at Costco I realized I don’t need to buy three packages of English muffins
He doesn’t live here anymore
I stripped his bed; washed the sheets & duvet cover and stored them in the linen closet
He doesn’t live here anymore
I washed his remaining clothes and I packed them in bags
He doesn’t live here anymore
I packed up odds and ends in boxes that he had left behind
He doesn’t live here anymore
When I was hanging up the bath towels I remembered I didn’t need one for him
He doesn’t live here anymore
I don’t need to ask him if he’ll be home for supper
He doesn’t live here anymore
All of the cars now fit in the driveway
He doesn’t live here anymore
I was the last person up so I shut off the living room light before I went to bed
He doesn’t live here anymore

( These were the things I noticed in the first couple of weeks after our eldest son, Chris, was married. The phrase "He doesn't live here anymore" came to mind  and I started writing down the changes I noticed.)

A Blue Sportjacket

"So, I tell you, don't worry about everyday life - whether you have enough food, drink, and clothes. Doesn't life consist of more than food and clothing? Look at the birds. They don't need to plant or harvest or put food in barns because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are. Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? Of course not. And why worry about your clothes? Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won't he more surely care for you? You have so little faith! So don't worry about having food or drink or clothing. Why be like the pagans who are so deeply concerned about these things? Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs, and he will give you all you need from day to day if you live for him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern." Matthew 6: 25-33 (NLT)

My husband Dan wanted to purchase a sportjacket for quite some time to wear as an alternative to a two-piece suit. Over the years he has looked in many of the men's stores and he did not find one that was suitable for him.

The annual business meeting for Dan's work was last evening and again Dan expressed his desire for a sportjacket. I mentioned to him that I had seen several sportjackets when I was recently in Global Village, our local second-hand store. I suggested that he check there. Dan later told me, that on his way to Global Village he asked God for a blue sportjacket.

Dan saw a blue sportjacket and tried it on; it was a perfect fit. It was as if that jacket had been made specially for Dan, with the right length of sleeves and body. An interesting fact about the jacket is that it was made in Ukraine and Dan is of Ukrainian descent! When Dan went to pay for his blue sportjacket he was informed that it was half-price day so his sportjacket cost less than $5.00! God already knew Dan's need and  I believe He orchestrated the donation of this blue sportjacket and Dan purchasing it.

My Final Six Month Check Up

Yesterday I had my regular six month check up with the oncologist, in the new Stronach Regional Cancer Centre in Newmarket. This was quite a change from the informal temporary offices of the oncologists. The foyer of the new centre reminded me of Sunnybrook Health Sevices Centre in Toronto. I had a flood of memories when I first entered the building until even after I had left.

At the reception desk I stated my name and presented my health card. The receptionist confirmed my information and then took a photo of me with a small digital camera for my medical records. She gave me a form to fill out rating the severity of various symptoms and told me to go upstairs to the waiting area where a nurse would then call me.

After several minutes a nurse approached me introducing herself, took my completed form and weighed me. She then led me to an examination room where I sat in a chair while she took my blood pressure and pulse with a machine. I am very familiar with these machines as they were often used when I was a patient in the hospital; and when I was having my chemotherapy sessions in the cancer clinic. The nurse noted the results, asked me further questions and then entered my responses into the computer. This was very "high tech" compared to the handwritten notes that the oncologist had done in the past.

After the nurse left I waited a few minutes and then the oncologist, who was filling in, came to see me. He examined me and checked my chart on the computer. He asked me a few questions including whether my oncologist had ever ordered a CT scan for me. As he did not see one having occurred, he said that he would order one to have as a baseline reference. I told him, that at my previous appointment, my oncologist had said that providing my levels remained good I could then be on a yearly call-back. He agreed saying that he would order a CT scan to be done next year when I return for a follow-up appointment. I was to wait in the waiting area for the necessary paperwork.

Again I had to wait several minutes until I finally asked the nurse about the paperwork as she was walking by me. She led me to an area that was adjacent to the waiting area. There was a nurse there who I recognized as one who had cared for me a couple of times while I had my chemotherapy sessions. I also recognized one of the nurses at the desk as she had once worked in the cancer clinic. I mentioned that to her and said that she probably would not recognize me since I did not look the same. She agreed on the changes in patients once they are now healthy. She gave me a copy of the CT requisition as well as the blood work requisition form. The CT scan will be booked for June 2011 and then I will have my follow-up appointment in July 2011.

A Victorian Birthday Tea

A year ago I had emailed my sisters the idea of having a birthday tea for my fiftieth birthday. I was so overjoyed at having survived ovarian cancer, that I wanted this birthday to be a special celebration. I wanted to celebrate with the women and girls who have been a part of my life. I left the details up to my sisters, Gayle and Brenda, knowing they would have some good ideas.

As the day grew closer I started to worry about where Gayle was going to put all the women if it rained, so I hoped and prayed for good weather. The other worry was what she was going to do with her large dog. When I inquired about the dog I was told not to worry and "Don't ask any questions".
My mom and daughter Joy went on ahead to help Gayle and Brenda set up and greet the guests. My husband Dan and I were to arrive at 2:15 PM, which would give the guests time to arrive before me. As we were driving south to Aurora, I questioned why we had not turned to go our usual way to Gayle's. Dan answered that we would go this other way so we would not arrive too early. I then said maybe we should not have left so soon.

Once we arrived in Aurora, Dan slowed the car and stopped in front of Hillary House and said I was to get out there. Hillary House is a Victorian home that is owned by the local historical society. There were yellow balloons lining the walkway, and two young women came out of the house to greet me. I walked in the door and Gayle called out to me "Come up here". I was overwhelmed with emotion when I entered the room and saw everyone sitting at tables. I started to cry and I exclaimed that I was glad that I had not worn mascara! I was so surprised; it was definitely more than I had even hoped or imagined!

There were four tables of friends, and relatives. My sisters-in-law, nieces, aunt and female cousins, along with our young great-nephew joined in the celebration. All sides of the family were represented, which was special since family is important to me. There were friends from my former church, St. Paul's Presbyterian in Nobleton; women who I had served alongside. Our children used to play together while we mothers shared our trials and triumphs of raising young children. Also there were friends from my present church, Bradford Baptist; women who have prayed with me and for me on my journey of overcoming ovarian cancer. There were other friends too, including someone I have known for over 30 years.
The tables were set with white tablecloths; matching china teacups and saucers; and glass plates. In the centre of each table was a small vase with two sunflowers, which are the symbol of Ovarian Cancer Canada. A small photo album was on each table, so the women could catch a glimpse of different seasons of my life, including my journey of overcoming ovarian cancer.
My mom introduced herself, my sisters Gayle and Brenda, and my daughter Joy; and then prayed a blessing on our food and time together. We started off with punch and dainty sandwiches, sweet pickles, celery sticks and fancy-cut carrot sticks.
Gayle asked for the ladies' attention while she, Joy and Brenda shared some tea related thoughts. My sisters then shared how different teas reflect my qualities or quirks:
" Country peach passion: The name itself brings to mind your passion for God that keeps ripening. Your faith through the last 2 years especially is an inspiration to us."
"Wild Raspberry: A lightly sweet and fragrant blend...like wild raspberry tea, your life is a sweet blend of family, church, community, friends and personal time."
"Green tea: Simply 100% pure and natural...like green tea, you find refreshment in simple and pure experiences such as baking, homemaking, writing and dancing."
"Mint refresher" a cool, invigorating beverage... like this tea, you embraced the idea of getting fit through invigorating walks and workouts at Curves"
"Earl Grey: a favourite in North America and Britain...Debbie likes Pride and Prejudice (the movie and the book) so much she must have a higher content of British blood in her than the rest of us!"
"Orange Pekoe: Tetley, there's nothing quite like it...Debbie, there's no one quite like you!"

The tea theme continued with a "Fabulous Fifty" scrapbook containing teacup shaped memories, scriptures or words of encouragement that each of the ladies had filled out ahead of time. My sisters had also bought an ivory teapot that everyone signed with indelible ink.

I thanked the ladies for coming and expressed my joy of not only reaching this milestone but also of being healthy. Everyone clapped and I did too; it was an automatic response. I was so full of joy!

We then had our dessert of squares; mini butter tarts; and cookies, along with tea or coffee. I moved about from table to table visiting with as many people as I could. I was overwhelmed to have so many friends and loved ones in the same room, all there to celebrate my 50th birthday. This truly was a birthday to remember.

Life Goes On

"Life goes on" can be said with a heavy heart that is burdened with cares; but I choose to say "Life goes on" as a declaration of praise! I recently had another 6 month checkup with the oncologist. My CA 125 count is 7 (normal is 0 - 35); it was originally 4095 when I was diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer in September 2007. My next followup appointment with be in January 2010.

It is as if I have re-entered my life anew as a wife, mother and homemaker. I have a greater desire to live my life in a purposeful and organized manner. I want to rid my home of the unnecessary items that can accumulate over time. By nature I am a pack rat, but that is due to my desire to be prepared for any eventuality that could possibly occur!

These are some of the ways that I have culled; organized; and made use of things:

• chest freezer: multiple bags of bread crusts - made into bread crumbs; frozen berries- used to make smoothies; questionable leftovers - discarded in green bin; multiple bags of pizza dough scraps - made into two large pizzas

• canned goods, dry goods and other ingredients on hand - used to create meals and baked goods

• bags of donated fabric: Christmas fabric I won't make use of - donated to a seniors' centre craft program; I discovered a baby's cloth book pattern - I will make it for a gift, using my cache of sewing notions

There are still areas to go over and items to cull, but since "Life goes on" I will have the time and ability to do that.

Mementos of Hope

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12 (NIV)

Recently, I noticed again the many mementos of "Hope" that others had given me while I was undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer. My mind went back to the times when hope was needed to carry me through and to continue trusting in God for healing.

My sisters had designed a beige baseball cap with the word "Hope" embroidered on it for the first "mini-walk of hope" they had organized. The "O" is a stylized sunflower, which is the symbol of Ovarian Cancer Canada. http://www.ovariancanada.org/ I now wear this hat when I do yard work.

At the suggestion of a blog reader, my sisters had contacted "The Lydia Project" and arranged for them to send me one of their bags. Mine is a small fabric bag with the word "Hope" embroidered on it. It contained many items including words of hope and encouragement. http://www.thelydiaproject.org/ I now use this bag to carry my shoes and water bottle to "Curves".

A friend gave me an angel figurine by "Eden's Angels" called "Hope"; her arms are folded against her chest as in prayer. I have this figurine displayed in my living room along with another angel called "Freedom", which she gave me the day after I finished my treatments.

I have a white t-shirt with the word Hope on it, which was from the first "mini-walk of hope" that my sisters had organized. I also have a yellow t-shirt with the same symbol on it from last year's "mini-walk of hope". I now wear these t-shirts when I exercise at "Curves".

When I was again hospitalized this past fall, my sister gave me her "Hope" word sculpture. My sisters again hoped for healing and this represented their hope for me. I now have that sculpture displayed in my living room.

I am thankful for these mementos of "Hope" for they act as reminders of the faithfulness of God.

"What is faith? It is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see." Hebrews 11:1 (NLT)

The Day A Goat Rode "Shotgun"

It was a late spring afternoon leading up to Easter. We were living on a hundred acre farm in a little house on a hill. We rented two of the acres including the house, while the remaining acreage was rented by farmers for cash crops. The neighbour to the north had a hundred acre farm with cattle and a dog kennel business. The neighbour across the road had an estate home on a large acreage with a horse barn and arena for English riding. The property to the south had been subdivided into four with a shared access to a private airstrip.

Two of my children were at school, while the youngest was having his afternoon nap. I was sitting in the living room when I thought I heard an animal’s cry. I opened up the front door, which we rarely used, and stepped out onto the concrete porch. I looked around, but could not see anything so I went back inside. A few minutes later I heard the sound again, but it now sounded like “baa”. I thought it was a lamb, but again there was none in sight. As I was standing on the porch I heard the cry again and it sounded like it was coming from under the porch! I went inside; got a flashlight; went back outside and looked under the porch where I saw a young goat! I was very surprised at my discovery since none of my immediate neighbours had goats!

I had hoped that I could wait until my husband came home from work since he would be able to get the goat out and take it somewhere. I was spurred to action when the young goat’s cries had become more frequent and plaintive. I remembered that there was an abattoir just down the road from us. I thought that maybe this goat had escaped from there since they would be preparing goats for Easter. I called the abattoir and explained my predicament and they said they would be right over.

I expected them to come in a pickup truck and put the goat in the cargo area. Instead they came in a large older model two-door car. One of the men moved the concrete step while the other reached in to grab the young goat. He then proceeded to walk the goat back to the car; holding its front foot in each hand, causing it to walk on its two hind feet. He then sat in the front passenger seat with the goat between his legs, still holding onto its front two feet. That was the first and only time that I saw a goat ride "shotgun"!

Yard Work

This morning, it was a bright sunny day that beckoned me outside. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of fir cones on our front lawn. We have a large fir tree that stands in the middle of the front lawn. It provides shade and privacy, as well as shelter for many species of birds.

I decided that I would clean up the front lawn since the grass would soon be growing. I raked the fir cones into piles and then put them in a wheelbarrow, which I then dumped in a corner of the backyard. As I was doing the various actions I was reminded of the corresponding motions I use on the exercise machines at Curves. I was glad that I had been strengthening different muscles so that I was able to do this yard work.

I worked steadily, remembering to drink some water from time to time. I also made sure that I bent my knees instead of my back when picking up the cone piles. I did "make a dent" in the amount of cones on the lawn, but I was starting to get tired; I had been working for an hour. I knew that I had reached my limit so I decided that I would rake the remainder of the fir cones another time.

Not Recognized

Yesterday I was at a funeral for the founder of my husband's place of employment, where he has worked for almost twenty years. I saw some of Dan's co-workers there that I knew, but they did not recognize me or acknowledge me. They were used to seeing me how I looked before I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I did approach one of them, who is also the wife of a close colleague of Dan's. While she expressed surprise and hadn't recognized me, she also said it was good to see me. I could have gone to Dan's workplace for the reception afterwards, but I chose not to. Dan would not have been able to devote his time to stay by my side and re-introduce me to every colleague or client that I knew. It would have been too emotionally taxing for me to have to do this myself.

I am now used to how I look with short curly hair, but many people do not recognize me. I think that this reaction would not affect me to the degree that it does if I had only just cut my hair or permed it. Going through the experience of losing all of my hair and then having it grow in curly has been traumatic for me. I have tried to remain positive about this change, but it has had far greater consequences that I was not prepared for.