Weirdness...

My dear friend H. is so right on here. I can't even add to it, except to say, "You Go, Girl!"

A Few Thoughts on Psalm 23

Psalm 23 has been on my mind quite a bit in the last couple days and I wanted to share my thoughts. They are not just mine; I think we had a message about this a few months back and it is just returning strongly to me.

Most people think of Psalm 23 as the "yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" funeral scripture. No I am not feeling morbid or all that depressed. Scared, absolutley! But that is for another post. In the great words of Scarlet O'Hara... "I'll think about that tomorrow."... Anyway, back to the Psalm.... I disagree about the funeral-only usage.

Here is the Psalm.... and my thoughts.

The Lord is my shepherd,

Shepherds take care of their flock. I have a powerful shepherd.

I shall not be in want.

My needs will be met....

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

Not just any pastures, but "green" pastures.

He leads me beside quiet waters,

Peace.

He restores my soul.

"Restores" me... when I've got nothing left.

He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

His paths... not mine. I don't get to choose the paths;

my job is to follow where he leads.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

Sometimes things suck.

I will fear no evil, for You are with me;

I don't need to be scared. I am never alone.

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

He will help me fight off the "wolves" of life... the enemies.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

A table for me... a feast even...

in front of my enemies... not with them...

Like God saying, "Ha!Ha!...This one's mine!"

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

I am so blessed.

Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,

God loves me and He wants me to be happy.

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

What an awesome finish line.

My surgery is tomorrow and I am very aprehensive about that, but I do have a great sense of peace that God is really watching over me.

I am going to try to keep my blog updated throughout this process. It is as much for me to get all this stuff bouncing around my head... OUT... so I don't feel like I'm going nuts.

Please continue the prayers.

Stupid Boobs

I have thought long and hard how to title this post. I think "Stupid Boobs" is as close as I'm going to get right now. Now some of you may think that I am referring to some mentally challenged lame-brain that cut me off in traffic or something, but I am in fact referring to ... well... boobs.

Boobs come in all shapes and sizes. I have always longed for perky D-cups, but we all know that those don't really exist except in SiliconeWorld. What I have ended up with is a gargantuan size... well, H... I think. {I have in fact been up to a J which is repulsive, but I think I am at an H now.} Very nice and jiggly and I can never go anywhere without a bra, including my living room, unless I have a couple layers (like a heavy sweatshirt) on.

Boobs are useful for a time. Mine fed all of my children. My husband certainly enjoys them. I really don't like carrying them around all that much, but my chiropractor appreciates the business they cause him. I regularly have to go have my back and neck adjusted to deal with lugging 12-15 pounds around on my front.

Right now, I HATE MY STUPID BOOBS!

Last Friday, while changing my clothes, I found a lump. Freaked out. Tried to pretend it didn't actually exist. Didn't mention it to anyone.

Saturday, I called the nurse at the clinic about the supposedly-nonexistent-but-annoyingly-still-there lumpy boob; really I was just hoping she could get me in for my annual poke-and-probe a little quicker than the usual 6 weeks it takes to get an appointment. She said, "It really should be evaluated. Come in this morning." Cried. Told my husband.

The very lovely, very thorough Nurse Practitioner I saw validated my stupid non-existent boob lump and sceduled me for a mammogram.

"Great!" I thought. "Hello, Boob Pancake."

The one good thing about mega boobs though is that mammograms are really not heinous. You see, they put your boob on a shelf and then squish it into a nice pancake shape, take a picture, rearrange, re-squish, etc. My boob more than willingly sits on a shelf, and -let's just be honest here- is more flop than full anymore. Pancake... no problem.

Mammogram was Wednesday morning. The radiology tech told me before she started that she would run the pics over to the doc at the hospital (literally, next door) and don't be surprised if he wants an ultrasound. "They almost always want an ultrasound with a lump, so don't freak out." Of course, he wanted an ultrasound. They'll work me in.

Off to the hospital (next door) I go and get an ultrasound. Followed by a needle biopsy of the "worrisome nodule" they found. Surgeon talks to me. Surgeons always give you the results of these things aparently. Results Friday afternoon. {By the way, a "needle biopsy" is way more than it sounds like.}

Thursday,results in early. 4:30 appointment with the surgeon. 4:45 p.m.... Surgeon says, "You definitely have a breast cancer."

I kind of knew already. From the moment I felt the supposedly-non-existent lump... I knew. I felt it. That this was not "nothing" like most lumpy 35-year-old boobs turn out to be. It didn't matter. I still didn't know what to say...

I mean...

What do you say to that? I'm 35, ok almost 36, but still. I have no family history of any kind of cancer. I don't smoke or drink. I breastfed my babes. All that stuff is supposed to protect me, right? Aparently not in my case.

So my friends, and my family, I am in for a fight. When you are my age, breast cancers tend to grow quicker and be more aggressive. We are treating it quickly and aggressively.

I go in for an MRI on Tuesday, surgery to remove the lump and check lymph nodes on Thursday. If lymph nodes are involved and/or if they don't find clear tissue margins when they do the pathology work-ups from the surgery, that means more surgery. After surgery, 6 months of chemo. After chemo, 6 weeks of radiation.

Winston Churchhill gave a speech in June 1940, when Europe was getting totally anhialated by the Germans, that talked about how the fight needed to go on. So that 1000 years from now, people would talk about their fight and say from the midst of their struggle against the enemy came "their finest hour."

This quote is what my wonderful husband told me about last night when I asked what he was feeling. He said the doctors say that 2010 is going to be a sucky year for me, but he thinks it will be my finest hour. How sweet the victory will be. Vanquishment of the enemy in the darkest of times. My enemy is cancer.

Earlier this week, one of my friends who knew what was going on, emailed me to tell me she was praying... and specifically what she was praying. I thought is was so well put and beautiful. These are the prayers I ask for from all of you...

"...peace of mind; assurance that God is in control and will work His best for you; that somewhere deep inside, the joy still lives – lending strength through the fear and uncertainty; that the Great Physician will find that His will is that you be healed of any problem there may be.

I’ve included Tom in my prayer because the husband goes through a whole spectrum of emotions, too. (Even though he may not admit it!)"
{-And please add my sons in here. They now know what's going on... and IT'S. JUST. HARD. }

I know that God has a plan for me. I am glad for that and I accept it. I know that good will come out of this somehow. That being said, I don't have to like it! I hope to get through the coming months with as much grace and joy as I can possibly find. I know you all will be here to help.

Thanks for Today - A Great Big Cyber-Hug for All You Fellow Blogger-Moms

I don't know if anyone else reads random blogs of people they don't know, but I do. I start at someone I know, then look at their sidebar, see a post title that looks interesting, and before I know it I am reading about the crazy life of a complete stranger. One such blog gave me the idea to practice some November gratitude, blogger-style. So every day (that I have time/ remember) I'm going to blog some gratitude.

Today I am thankful for all my fellow mom-bloggers. It's amazing to me when I read about those I know and love, and the complete strangers, how similar many of our struggles are and yet how unique and gifted each of these special women are.

I was reading a Christian fiction series recently called "The Sister Circle." It was about women: how we are made to be compassionate nurturers, how God loves each of us, has a plan for each of us, and how intertwined our paths really are.

So Thank You, women of the blogging world. Thank you for sharing your joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies, and little windows into your worlds. You have surely enriched mine.

Good News, but.... Scary?

So, I am excited to announce that I have a job.



I had interviewed 2 different places; this is not the one I planned to take. I don't know why God wants me here, but I am sure that this is where I need to be right now. I was waiting for over an hour before my interview (the Director of Housing was dealing with "a situation"). The Director of Nursing, who did the initial interview, finally came by and got things going.



She started out by saying, "We'd like to hire you." I felt such peace, such confirmation that it was the right thing. She didn't mention that she wanted me for night shift until later. By then it was too late for me to back out; I already had my answer. I try not to argue with God too much; even if I win... well it's usually much more difficult than if I had just listened in the first place, so here we are.

This is a very good thing for our family financially right now. I am entering the health care field which I am excited about (at the bottom of the food chain, of course, but that's OK). It's close to home. It pays well. It's got good benefits and a 401K. I don't have to wear scrubs. The facility is beautiful. The management team seems really great; the head of the facility is actually a good friend of a good friend, which is reassuring. All this is good, but I am still majorly stressed and aprehensive.

What makes me really nervous is that I am going to be working the NOC shift... which means, I put my kids to bed, snuggle with my sweetie a bit, then head off to work, and work 11 p.m. until 7:30 a.m. Then I come home, kiss my kiddos good-bye before school, maybe drive the older ones to school, and then come home, have breakfast, and try to go to sleep til they get home and wake me up.



Now, I know that lots and lots of people work third shift. It's not that I think I'm too good for that or anything; in fact, I offered to work nights. I'm absolutely petrified of failure, and I'm worried that I won't be able to handle this. I LOVE SLEEP! I'm not sure 6 or 7 hours is going to cut it. And what about the weekends? What if I fall asleep in the middle of the shift? (There's a workout room in the lower level and I may go get my blood pumping before my shift and on my lunch break to help me stay awake.)



I have also not been married long enough that I don't care whether or not I sleep with my husband. And frankly, I don't plan to ever become that way. I love snuggling with my hubby. I love that we still sleep tangled and roll over to find each other even in sleep, even if it's just with fingers or toes. I'm going to miss that 5 nights a week.



I'm not sure when I start at this point, but it will be soon, probably within the next week. I know God has a purpose in this new adventure far from my comfort zone. Wish He would clue me in on what it was...

Gotta Love Google

Now and then I get nostalgic... I know, no one is shocked by that... but lately I have been thinking about my friend Kim from years back. We were really close and then life just got crazy for both of us. I was going through a divorce, working full time, and then I had baby #4. She also had a baby... I think #5... her husband got his Ph.D, and then they moved. That was about 7 years ago I think..... then *POOF* she was gone.

So anyway... I was thinking about her... tried to find her on Facebook without success... so I Googled her husband, Mr. Ph.D., because he wanted to teach college and usually college professors have to do research and publish stuff, so I thought I would be able to find him.

On about page 3 of the Google listings, I clicked on one that looked promising and there was his big toothy grin from the faculty page of a university in their home state where he has taught for 6 of the last 7 years. With am email address. So I sent him this "I'm an old friend of your wife's" type email .... and we'll see.... Sometimes I wonder why I am such a sap... but you gotta love Google!

My Love, My Boys, and a Treehouse

When I met my husband he was 48. He had no children and hadn't really planned to have any. But we fell in love and he knew that I was a package deal. None of my boys have any contact with their biological counterparts. It's "inconvenient" for my ex to have a relationship with his sons. Bubba was an unexpected blessing; unfortunately his other half has never really viewed him that way. So essentially, none of them had fathers, just chromosome donors. (I do get some financial support from my ex for the boys, but he would even like to stop that if he could.)

When My Love and I married, he had just turned 50; I was 32. He is such a gift from God to me and my children. Anyone who knows him, knows that he doesn't do things halfway. He has approached his fatherhood in the same fashion he does everything else. All or nothing.

Whether he planned to be a Dad or not, he's very good at it.

Last week was spring break for the boys. I still had classes MWF, so My Love spent most of the week with the boys working on a project. Did I mention My Love is a carpenter?

We have 3 pine trees in our little backyard, set in the back corner in a triangle. He "helped" the boys build an awesome treehouse. Well, a 3-tree-house actually. The first step was a platform.

Next came the walls. They built them on the ground and hefted them up.
Once up, the side walls were nailed in place.
The end walls were built up on the platform.

The door is a trapdoor in the floor.

The windows are similar, cut out of the walls and hinged down.

And then everybody helped paint.

We've even had our first official treehouse injury when Monkey Boy didn't realize that The Thinker hadn't closed the door after he left and he stepped in it and almost fell out of the treehouse and 8' to the ground.

He caught himself and was fine after a couple days of sore ribs and a lesson in "Watch Where You Walk" and "Respect for the Treehouse." It has antibiotic goop on it, so it looks worse than it is. He was pretty bruised though. And very, very lucky.

I realized that I don't have a picture of the finished product, with the roof and everything. I'll have to add that later. The permanent ladder still needs to be installed.... but it's pretty cool!

And God Is So Good, He's So Good To Me!

ahhhh.... Don't you love exams....?

I love them.... especially when they are over. I am one exam closer to the end of my lovely A&P (that's anatomy and physiology for you non-science types) class. This particular evil was on the respiratory system. I have discovered a Hermoine-Granger-ish science geek streak since I have been back to school. I typically test really well so I don't stress too much before exams. It's still nice to be on the other side of one.

For some people, studying science encourages them to buy into the concept of evolution. Now I am no Biology PhD or anything. I have taken Microbiology, Chemistry, A&P 1, and (this semester) Biochemistry and A&P 2. And the more science I study, the more ABSOLUTE certainty I have in divine creation. No way did all of these intricacies in our bodies come about BY ACCIDENT.

Because that is what evolutionists claim. That we are all the products of millions of years of accidents and coincidences. What a load of crap. It takes at least 5 different enzymes working in perfect sequence to replicate ONE STRAND of DNA.

{Nucletides are molecules comprised of 3 main parts. Just 4 varieties of nucleotides make up all DNA, but they arrange themselves into millions of different sequences that spell out a kind of code. A,C,G, & T. Each 3-nucleotide sequence codes for one of the 20 amino acids. Amino acids line up in different, and very specific, ways to make up all proteins in your body. Enzymes are proteins, usually with hundreds or thousands of amino acids.}

So without enzymes, your DNA can't reproduce. But without DNA, you can't make enzyes. And supposedly this is all a series of Cosmic Whoopsies? I don't think so. Class dismissed. =P