Savor

 

It's almost been a year since I blogged. I could say that too much "busyness" has kept me away. That's a good excuse. But then something really important happened. Something I need to speak about. 

A month or so ago, I had my routine mammogram. I looked forward to the letter that would arrive stating the "all clear" diagnosis. This time, I received a phone call. A sonogram was ordered to investigate a little further. Stomach clenched, heart raced, fear arrived. "This has happened before," I told myself. "Stop working yourself up."

The day of the sonogram arrived. With faith in my heart and prayer as my shield, I chatted with the technician and hoped for the best. She left the room to give the results to the on-call doctor. Those fifteen minutes or so felt like eternity. 

When the two of them walked through the door, my heart sank. I figured if it was good news, the technician could have given it to me. But the doctor... this meant business.

"You have a very small spot, only 3 millimeters. But it's best to do a biopsy to determine further results."

Biopsy. A word that conjures up all sorts of horrors that I won't get into right now. Stomach churned, heart palpitated, fear made its way into me. And there it stayed for the next several weeks. 

I had amazing prayer warriors. I had a husband who believed for the best outcome. My own faith didn't waver, but I said to God, "No matter what. My story for Your glory." I wanted good news of course, but I was ready to face anything.

As terrified as I was for the biopsy, it was incredibly painless and easy. All of the healthcare workers were wonderful. Okay, I admit, I did take a Xanax, but that was just a little... help of sorts. I lay there and kept the Bible verses close to me that were the best encouragement: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified. For the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." And, "Do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

The results would come in three to five business days. Even with faith as my shield, uncertainty loomed before me. If it was this... then I'd have to go through that... Could I dare hope for a benign result?

My prayer partners and praying husband reassured when darkness threatened. I kept busy with my job and daily routines until I saw an email from the health portal that said: New test results available.

Nope, not gonna look at that. I don't understand health lingo. I knew the office would call very soon at that point. While at work, my cell phone rang. I jumped from my desk and took the call outdoors of my office. The nurse was pleasant and kind as she gave me the news: Benign. The best word a woman could hear. I laughed and cried with her and then laughed and cried with everyone I called right afterward.

Today, a few days later, I am better for having gone through this. My story for His glory. God was with me even in the darkest night terrors. He stood near and held me when I thought I'd faint from fear and worry. I looked to Him with hope that no matter the outcome, He would be with me. I remembered a few other times in my life when I'd needed him most: the loss of my parents, another health scare many years ago; a time I had to be strong for my child. He had never failed me or left me alone. His love is real. No Matter What.

This morning I chose the word savor. I like the sound of it and all it implies. It means slowing down, enjoying, really enjoying every little moment of every single day. Taking time with my prayer life and reading encouragement. Basking in a long, hot shower. Typing these words. Playing like a little kid with my husband or son. Crocheting with beautiful yarn as it slides through my fingers. Swinging in the sunshine on my porch swing and not caring that I don't have important tasks at hand every second. It's okay to even be a little bored. It means there's life in my body, breath in my lungs, health and light.

The internet had this to say: Savor: to enjoy food or an experience slowly, in order to enjoy it as much as possible: It was the first chocolate he'd tasted for over a year, so he savored every mouthful. Love the fact that you are alive and savor everything that life has to offer.

Are you fearful today? What's pressing upon your heart? Is it time for healing in your soul? Ask. Talk to that wonderful Father. Then ask Him to help you to savor every single blessed moment of every day. 

I Must Bloom

The other day, I glanced out my side door. A tree sits in my front yard dormant now for the upcoming winter. Some of that tree is hollowed out where countless birds and squirrels have made their homes for many years. One particular branch actually seems dead, as a huge portion of it came crashing down in a wind storm several months back. But on that branch, that place where no life should be during the fall season sits two pink blossoms. I had to go outside and see if I was hallucinating. But there they were, full of new life, beauty and promise. I felt a sign had been given to me, and wondered what it could mean.

The letter from the healthcare facility sat on my counter last evening. I'd been waiting for the results of a bone scan for a few weeks thinking it would come by phone. I tore the envelope open, hoping against all hope that the tests wouldn't show what I feared. And then there was the word: Osteoporosis. The dreaded word that many of us ladies over fifty have had to deal with.

A few weeks ago when I'd been at the facility shivering in my little paper gown, I had first gotten word that I lost an inch in my height. At five- foot- one, all my life, that didn't come as particularly happy news. The nurse began the scans and I asked her questions. Because I'd been told I had osteopenia a few years ago, I already had a sneaking suspicion.

So this morning I sit here writing out my feelings. What do I feel? I feel old all of a sudden; washed up and a "has been." I feel like, here we go, now it's my time of having "older" people issues. The reality however is that it was not a cancer diagnosis. There are so many of my friends and acquaintances who have far worse going on with their health. A brave friend has Parkinson's, other ladies I know have dealt with breast cancer and worse.

It's a time for change then. I look back to a blog I wrote last year about eating healthier and feeling good. That lasted for all of two weeks for me. Going through all of my mom's problems earlier this year, I went over the top with feeling sorry for myself and turned to all sorts of bad foods for comfort. All of my wonderful ideas for becoming a new me went right out the window.

Until I'm able to speak with my doctor, I have nagging concerns though. Because of my scoliosis, I've always worried a little more about my spine. It hasn't been an easy road with curvature of the spine; it's been an uphill battle feeling different from others and knowing a long metal rod runs the length of my back. That I have scars like road maps and frightening memories of weeks in Children's Hospital. That I was made fun of and had to learn to hold my head up though my heart was breaking. These thoughts plague me until I silence them.

 I have aches and pains that weren't there just a few short years ago. I can hardly get out of bed in the mornings, but once I get going, I'm okay. It's easy for someone like me to get lost in all the negative emotions that something like this brings. I can easily let my thoughts spiral out of control until I'm sitting there crying. But I must pick myself up and dust these old bones off and not let it get the best of me. I refuse to sit in a rocking chair crocheting--though I do love to crochet. And I absolutely refuse to picture myself in a wheelchair. Though there are things I shouldn't do any longer such as pick up my nieces, I can still run around a playground with them and carry on like a child. 

I talked with God. I will get through this as many others have. I'm planning on purchasing a stepper exercise machine. Though I do walk several times a week, I will need this for the winter months especially. And I must start eating better. Now that I have a reason to do so, I may find it easier to cut out the junk.

I think about the sign I was given--the stunning pink blossoms in the midst of what seemed dead on the tree in my yard. And it brings me hope. Life is not over until it's over. The dormant part of me can blossom forth like those lovely blooms against all odds--aging, health issues, loss and death. I, too, can push forth from the dead wood of my own mind as those flowers have, and turn my face toward the sunshine. What hope this has brought me! I still walk over to the tree and glance upward at the crackly, old branch and view the delicate petals upon it. And like those little beauties, I will spring forth and defy the odds at the most amazing times.