This morning, I am leaving with my friend Kelly and her two sons for a vacation in North Carolina. It will be nice to get away.
Interesting thing about vacations, though . . . preparing for a vacation takes a lot of work. I have spent the entire week at work and home arranging, organizing, planning, and packing to get ready to leave. In some ways, it would be easier to just stay home.
But despite all the effort, I suspect that vacating the premises of my life for a few days will make it worth it in a couple of ways.
For one, I need the reminder that life is about more than my home and my job. When life is focused so much on what I do at work and at home, it's easy to think that I AM my work and my home. Take away my computer and my kitchen, my cubicle and my garden, and what's left? The truth is, the tasks I do and the stuff I have are not me. And everything will go on just fine without me. I hope this vacation will remind me of that.
On the other hand, though, I am hoping that some time away will remind me how grateful I am for my home and my job. Some days, life feels burdensome spending so much time and energy on these two places. I leave home undone to go to work, and then I leave work undone to come home. Yet, a few days away, and I am hoping to have a renewed vision of the gifts God has given me through home and work.
I am vacating the premises today. I am confident that life will continue on without me. But Lord willing, I will return in a few days, and I can continue on with that life. This life I love.
July 31, 2009
July 27, 2009
Saving Buttons
One of my fondest memories of my childhood is playing with my Grandma Ruth's button box. She had an old Sunshine Biscuit tin with two little girls on the front filled with old buttons carefully removed from worn-out trowsers and thread-bare dresses.Though I remember playing with the button box, taking out the buttons and marveling over their various colors and shapes, the button box was certainly not a toy. Even in the "modern age" of my youth, we often went to the button box to find a replacement for a buttonless shirt or a new vest.
Saving buttons was just a part of the thriftiness of homemaking that was so much a part of my heritage. Clothing was worn until it was worn out, and the buttons were saved to bring life to a new handmade piece of clothing.
Wendell Berry, in his novel Hannah Coulter, describes this aspect of domestic arts in the character of Hannah's Grandmam.
"She never gave up on her clothes until they were entirely worn out, and then she ripped them up, saving the buttons, and wore them out as rags. She was an old-fashioned housewife: determined and skillful and saving and sparing. She worked hard, provided much, bought little, and saved everything that might be of use, buttons and buckles and rages ans string and paper sacks from the store. She mended leaky pans, patched clothes, and darned socks. She used the end of a turkey's wing as a broom to sweep around the stove."
Because my grandmother saved buttons, my mom saved her buttons, too. She was part of the last generation who knew the necessity of excelling in the domestic arts. Though my mom now has a dishwasher and microwave, and buys all of her clothes at Kohl's, her early life began in a different time. She still saves her button.
And because my mother saves her buttons, I save mine, too. None of my buttons came from a piece of worn-out clothing. In fact, the buttons I have collected in my tiny ceramic dish each came in their own plastic bag. So far removed from the necessity of saving buttons, these little buttons are just "extras," attached to a new sweater or blouse just in case another one is lost.But even though I may never need one of these treasured buttons, I think of my grandmother each time I carefully remove one from its plastic and place it in the dish. Saving my buttons reminds me that caring for the things I have, even down to the tiniest button, is a spiritual act of stewardship.
And when I see those buttons spilling over the edges of their tiny home, I am thankful.
--
Thanks to many of you who have been praying regarding the possible genetic testing. After meeting with the genetic counselor and spending the last couple of weeks in contact with my insurance company, I gave them permission today to begin the process of genetic testing. The first set of tests are conducted on samples of the original cancer tissue removed almost two years ago. If the find evidence of possible Lynch Syndrome there, then I will have further dna tests done on my blood. My medical and family history are suspicious for this syndrome, but the chances that I have this syndrome are still actually very small. If I do receive a positive result a few weeks down the road, then all this will mean for me now is more rigorous cancer screening.
Meanwhile, my next CA125 screening will be the second week of August.
July 15, 2009
Birds of a Feather
Last week, as I was out in the yard picking up sticks, investigating new blooms on my flowers, and trying to figure out why my compost pile hasn't turned to dirt yet, I noticed something caught in the wire fencing around Precious' dog run. It looked like a dead leaf, sort of. Yet it also seemed to be fuzzy.
As I got closer, I realized that it was a little bird that had wedged itself into one of the cross sections of the fence and was holding on for dear life. I got fairly close to the bird, trying to determine if it was injured. It seemed to be able to move its wings ok, and it adjusted its legs from time to time. It even did a cute little hiss at me by opening its beak and sticking out its tongue. But under no circumstances did it seem remotely interested in flying away. I went on my way, assuming he would eventually go on his way, and I didn't really think another thing of it.
The next morning, when I peeked out the window, I saw the bird still there. It must have had a long night perching on that thin wire, I thought. But I had to get to work, and there just wasn't time to get involved any further.
When the bird was still there that evening, I began to get worried. I walked back out to have a closer look, but I still couldn't detect any injury. On this second examination, however, I realized that this was a very young bird, and if I had to guess, I would say that he had embarked on his first flight and gotten no further than my fence before he realized how terrified he was.
His terror was growing by the minute, however, as I began to talk to him and offer him a spoon full of bird food as a snack. He had been hanging onto my fence for more than 24 hours, and he was surely hungry. But when a giant tries to pour bird seed down your throat with a plastic stick, an empty stomach is not exactly the most pressing item on your list of concerns, I guess.
Later that evening and the next morning I went back out to the fence and tried to convince him that he was strong enough to continue his journey. I talked as soothingly as I could; I even tried threatening him into flying by letting my dog come out and sniff around him. Nothing worked. I couldn't persuade him to fly.
When I looked out the window to check on him in the evening of the third day, I noticed that he had moved slightly, though he was still on the fence. But even more importantly, he was no longer alone. A second bird now sat right next to him and was chirping encouragingly. I was relieved. It's one thing to be afraid during your first attempt at flying. It's entirely another to get left behind.
I walked outside to look at the birds to make sure they weren't both stuck on my fence, and immediately the new bird flew away, leaving my little friend alone again. But the new bird didn't go very far. After watching me for a minute or two to determine that I was not going to hurt them, the other bird came back. Still chirping excitedly.
Not wanting to interrupt what was obviously an important intervention, I came back inside, but I prayed for the little bird who didn't think he could go on. There's nothing worse than being stuck, so I asked the Lord to give him courage. And I thanked him for the brother or sister, or maybe it was his mother, who was there to see him through.
Amazingly (or maybe not so much), within a few minutes I looked back out the window and both birds were gone. I laughed out loud and thanked the Lord. Not only for being a caring creator who knows even when a sparrow is hanging on for dear life to the side of a wire fence, but especially for being a Father to a woman who too often feels stuck in the loneliness and fear of her own life.
What a God -- who chose not to be just a giant with a plastic spoon to us but a feathered friend who knew what it was like to learn how to fly.
Tomorrow morning, on the suggestion of my oncologist, I am meeting with a genetic counselor. Because endometrial cancer is a very unusual diagnosis for a young woman, I am being considered as a possible carrier of Lynch Syndrome, a genetic predisposition which will put me at a higher risk to develop colon cancer. Please pray that I will remember that I am fearfully and wonderfully made regardless of the outcome, and that no cancer is more powerful than my Jesus.
As I got closer, I realized that it was a little bird that had wedged itself into one of the cross sections of the fence and was holding on for dear life. I got fairly close to the bird, trying to determine if it was injured. It seemed to be able to move its wings ok, and it adjusted its legs from time to time. It even did a cute little hiss at me by opening its beak and sticking out its tongue. But under no circumstances did it seem remotely interested in flying away. I went on my way, assuming he would eventually go on his way, and I didn't really think another thing of it.
The next morning, when I peeked out the window, I saw the bird still there. It must have had a long night perching on that thin wire, I thought. But I had to get to work, and there just wasn't time to get involved any further.
When the bird was still there that evening, I began to get worried. I walked back out to have a closer look, but I still couldn't detect any injury. On this second examination, however, I realized that this was a very young bird, and if I had to guess, I would say that he had embarked on his first flight and gotten no further than my fence before he realized how terrified he was.
His terror was growing by the minute, however, as I began to talk to him and offer him a spoon full of bird food as a snack. He had been hanging onto my fence for more than 24 hours, and he was surely hungry. But when a giant tries to pour bird seed down your throat with a plastic stick, an empty stomach is not exactly the most pressing item on your list of concerns, I guess.
Later that evening and the next morning I went back out to the fence and tried to convince him that he was strong enough to continue his journey. I talked as soothingly as I could; I even tried threatening him into flying by letting my dog come out and sniff around him. Nothing worked. I couldn't persuade him to fly.
When I looked out the window to check on him in the evening of the third day, I noticed that he had moved slightly, though he was still on the fence. But even more importantly, he was no longer alone. A second bird now sat right next to him and was chirping encouragingly. I was relieved. It's one thing to be afraid during your first attempt at flying. It's entirely another to get left behind.
I walked outside to look at the birds to make sure they weren't both stuck on my fence, and immediately the new bird flew away, leaving my little friend alone again. But the new bird didn't go very far. After watching me for a minute or two to determine that I was not going to hurt them, the other bird came back. Still chirping excitedly.
Not wanting to interrupt what was obviously an important intervention, I came back inside, but I prayed for the little bird who didn't think he could go on. There's nothing worse than being stuck, so I asked the Lord to give him courage. And I thanked him for the brother or sister, or maybe it was his mother, who was there to see him through.
Amazingly (or maybe not so much), within a few minutes I looked back out the window and both birds were gone. I laughed out loud and thanked the Lord. Not only for being a caring creator who knows even when a sparrow is hanging on for dear life to the side of a wire fence, but especially for being a Father to a woman who too often feels stuck in the loneliness and fear of her own life.
What a God -- who chose not to be just a giant with a plastic spoon to us but a feathered friend who knew what it was like to learn how to fly.
--
Tomorrow morning, on the suggestion of my oncologist, I am meeting with a genetic counselor. Because endometrial cancer is a very unusual diagnosis for a young woman, I am being considered as a possible carrier of Lynch Syndrome, a genetic predisposition which will put me at a higher risk to develop colon cancer. Please pray that I will remember that I am fearfully and wonderfully made regardless of the outcome, and that no cancer is more powerful than my Jesus.
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