John 4:39-42

Many Samaritans Believed

39 Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.” 40 So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. 41 And because of his words many more became believers.

42 They said to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.”

~~~~~~~

"Have you ever thought about letting Dani take communion?", Jimmy whispered sideways to me in the pew. With folks just ahead of us filing toward the front of the church, our time to stand was quickly approaching. I had just been thinking the very same thing, so I touched Dani's elbow, signaling for her to rise. As if all on the same page, she smiled, signed Jesus, and we three stood in one accord to walk forward for communion.

As we approached the pastor, he divulged the meaning of the bread and wine (juice). He explained that the wine represented Christ's blood and spoke of its healing. I stood with my hands on Dani's shoulders thinking of heaven and how wonderful it will be to meet our little girl one day, healed, whole, and complete. It was all I could do to hold back the tears.

Inching our way to the front of the sanctuary, we received our smidgen of bread and juice and then walked back to our seats. Like two halves of an Oreo cookie, once back in place, Jimmy and I nestled our little 23 year old baby girl between us as Jimmy began explaining the meaning of this gesture. We took the bread and drank the "wine" as tears filled our eyes. Dani cried especially hard; she understood the meaning all too well.

The congregation quietly dismissed. Without a word we walked out of the building to our car. Placing the key into the ignition, Jimmy broke the silence asking,"Did you see the girl in front of us staring at Dani?"

"Yes, I vaguely remember her but I thought she was looking past us toward the back door"

"No, she stared at Dani the whole service and I was getting a little irritated with her until we took communion. She continued to watch us and as we explained communion's meaning to Dani, she began crying uncontrollably on her mother's shoulder. When the service was over she continued to weep as they walked out of church."

Normally I would have noticed this girl in her early teens, but I was wrapped up in the thought of meeting Dani in heaven. I marveled at her sweet spirit and how tender it is toward God, even amidst severe disabilities. How our little girl is aware of an invisible God I'll never know, but she knows Him well and treasures His presence. Through her I've learned to never underestimate the faith of a child. That's why we allowed her to partake of communion that day. I don't question that she may have well gotten more out of it than some adults that day.

We weren't aware of it at the time, but our actions with Dani in church that day served as a testimony. I don't know who else saw what we were doing but one set of young impressionable eyes watched so closely they were reduced to tears.

I used to think one's testimony only referred to spoken words, like presenting your story of salvation to a group as the woman at the well did in today's study. I've since learned there's much more to it than that. What we do and what others see us do, speaks louder than the most eloquent of words, especially when we don't know we are being observed.

I have no idea what the Lord spoke to the young teen's heart or how He used Dani's first communion to touch her so deeply. I only know that even though we may feel invisible at times, people are watching. Naturally our spouses, children, family, and co-workers observe our behavior and responses to life's events, but strangers peer from afar as well. No doubt our testimony takes on many forms and impacts the world in ways we'll never fully understand.

Application:

When was the last time you observed someone's testimony? Did it have a positive or negative impact on you?

Could your verbal testimony use a little improvement?

How about your actions? Do they reflect the character of God or possibly lead others astray?

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So Sad

There are some things you just don't want to end. Close rare relationships, box of chocolates, lushy ice cream, touching song, unforgettable movie, hard-to-put-down book, or perhaps, as in this case, a fabulous Bible study.

That's where I found myself this morning at the end of Elaine Olsen's, Peace for the Journey. Closing the back cover, slow and methodical, it felt like I was losing a friend. I sat there wondering what to do next and how to top this wonderful journey. Her study has been my companion for a couple of months now. I've taken notes, underlined sentences, highlighted words, and dog-eared pages to remember particular points. I even wrote quotes from her study in my 3x5 index cards to review for a later time. I'm sad it's over. It was so good I feel a sense of loss. Now, that's a good study!

I wrote about Elaine's work in Your Sista's Having a Hista, Part 4, Hidden Treasures. It touched me deeply then and continued to impress to the end.

I can't say enough about this study and recommend it for personal study as well as groups. You won't be disappointed.

Fitting enough, Elaine concludes her prize quoting Jesus's words in John 14:27, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

Thank you dear friend for the gift of walking with you through this study.

Blessings!

Times Are A Changin'

It hurts my heart to see Border book store closing. Saturday, during an an outing, we saw two folks standing along the entrance to the shopping center holding 7 ft. tall 50% off signs for this establishment. Mercy me, I never thought I'd see the day. Times they sure are changing. Things that were once the cat's meow are now near fossils...and it's sad.

It makes me feel old too. Pray tell, are the days of strolling the plaza, purchasing that fizzy cold Coke or piping hot coffee, and then heading to the bookstore to peruse the shelves with your head tilted awkwardly to the right, nearly over? And what about quietly sitting in overstuffed chairs with a stack of titles in your lap while your little one(s) sift through the children's section.

It's so relaxing to pick up a book, study the front title and picture, then flip it over to read the back cover and get a glimpse into its contents. I'm an eclectic reader too. I switch authors and genres with each new book. Sometimes fiction, other times non, it's all up to me and wherever my mood leads. That's why books are simply wonderful. The choice is yours and virtually endless, but books as we know them are amidst drastic transformation.

One negative impact that's hurt book stores is the emergence of electronic books, such as the iPad and Kindle. I don't have either yet but I hear they are the new cat's meow. I console myself for not having one by focusing on the fact my books never run out of batteries. Yes, they are bulky in my purse and a bit heavy depending on the read, but they only require the energy it takes for me to turn the page, yet another reason why I love books, the smell, look, and feel of bound paper drizzled with ink. Yum.

I may not yet have a new fangled iPad or Kindle thingamajig, but I've contributed to their cause just the same, for my book Freedom, Healing for Parents of Disabled Children, is now on cyberspace's electronic shelf. No more cocking your head sideways as you snake along shelves; in fact, you don't have to go any further than the keyboard of your computer. A brisk click of the mouse downloads the entire book in two shakes of a lambs tail, or so I'm told. The speed and ease is truly amazing, and there's one other perk too, electronic books cost less than precious paper and ink. Now that's a good thing.

Give Freedom a visit and better yet, if you per chance know a family member or friend who would benefit from this resource, send them my way and I'll take good care of them.

Here's where to go:

Lulu.com available iPad, Kindle, and Paperback

Amazon.com available in Kindle and Paperback

Another Race for the Cure

One year ago tomorrow a couple of friends and I Raced for the Cure. We drove to downtown Kansas City in the wee hours of the morning, donned in our pink hats and T-shirts, all to show a force against breast cancer. Coordinating our locations via cell phone calls, we met up, set up, warmed up, and headed out. I ran a 5K in honor of my mother who passed away in 2006, while my best friend, Debbie, ran for herself, a survivor.

I had my iPod and Blistex on board, while Deb ran nude of such frivolities. I'd been training for many months and felt more than ready for the occasion, while my BFF wondered how she'd do after minimal preparation. It was hotter than blazes and the humidity was down right evil. The mix of thick moist hot air along with the wicked hills of downtown KC, made it impossible to cool off. I dumped water on myself and ran in every shaded area I could find, all to no avail. I walked a couple of times during the race, which burst my bubble toot sweet. By the time I hit the finish line I was down right irritable and thoroughly disappointed.

I feverishly searched for water, only to find a truck bed loaded with bottles of warm disgusting water. I hadn't yet met up with Jimmy and Dani, so I perched on a fountain's ledge and leaned back to stick my hands in the cold water until they arrived. I could not believe how hot and miserable it was. My friend Debbie came in after me but in much better shape. She never walked and wasn't nearly as aggravated by the heat. I remember it all as if it were yesterday.

A lot has happen in one year's time. Because of recent surgery, I'm in no condition to walk the course let alone run it, but my heart is with all who will attend tomorrow's event just the same. Since last year I know more women battling breast cancer, making the cause all the more special. I'm thrilled to see that the forecast calls for a morning temperature of 61 gorgeous degrees, which I am sure will be a far more pleasant cry than last year's steamy start. I will not be attending the event and will miss the last quarter mile run where the 5K runners merge with the 1 mile walkers. From the runner's point of view coming down the hill, it looks like two pink rivers forking together. I can't explain it other than to say the unity of so many coming together as one reminded me of heaven. It was simply breathtaking.

I'll be in the church pew tomorrow praying for all participants of the race. May the Lord be with each and every one of you!

John 4:27-38

The Disciples Rejoin Jesus

“Just then his disciples returned and were surprised to find him talking with a woman. But no one asked, “What do you want?” or “Why are you talking with her?”

28 Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, 29 “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” 30 They came out of the town and made their way toward him. 31 Meanwhile his disciples urged him, “Rabbi, eat something.” 32 But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you know nothing about.”

33 Then his disciples said to each other, “Could someone have brought him food?” 34 “My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. 35 Don’t you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months until harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. 36 Even now the one who reaps draws a wage and harvests a crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together. 37 Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true. 38 I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.”

~~~~~~~

Because if surgery, it's been months since we've journeyed through the Gospel of John. It's good to be back on track, so let's pick up where we left off and move forward with the apostle as our guide.

It was a pleasant surprised to see that several of you could relate to the post on John 4:1-26 regarding experiences in life that appear missed opportunities. Elaine at Peace for the Journey shared a similar story, in the comment section, of feeling helpless to assist the victims of recent tornado devastation in her area. What a comfort to know I'm not alone as my small mind attempts to comprehend the world's vast complexities (not that Elaine has a small mind. I only speak for myself). More often than not, God works His will in the most perplexing fashion, but faith reassures us He is thorough to care and provide for those whose heart is set on Him. As one who easily forgets this important gold nugget, I must continually be aware that God will use me when, where, and only if He chooses, according to His wisdom and knowledge. My job is to do precisely what I'm called to do, not pick and choose, which is a grueling lesson on obedience and self-control.

My experience at the grocery story (in the John 4:1-26 blog) was not the first time I've felt unused and dare I say unwanted with regards to doing a work for God. In hindsight, this little jaunt to the market brought to the surface the tip of sinister iceberg. Seems the frustration of missing two opportunities to help a person in need at the checkout brought to surface a lesson that's been calling my name for quite sometime, which leads us to todays lesson.

Interestingly enough, while John 4:1-26's lesson revealed my appreciable zeal to do a good work for God, this week's reading exposed a dangerous undertow fused to this same great passion. Isn't it just like God to not leave well enough alone? He's always so exact and thorough, which is good but remarkably exhausting.

What stuck in my craw in today's passage is verse 38, "I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.” In a flash the word "reap" leaped off the page and into my heart, piercing it like a hot poker. Quicker than a short order cook can flip a pancake, God tailored these words to fit my life and circumstance. While Jesus spoke these words to instill humility into the hearts of the disciples who would soon do great miracles and wonders founded on the work of those who had gone before them, God nudged me toward submission as well, only with my own personal tweak.

Rather than impressing on my heart that I would reap great benefits from those who's gone before me, God stressed the value of those who set the stage for the disciples. Greats like John the Baptist, Old Testament prophets, and a multitude of other godly men and women of the Bible. Some names are well known while others are not, but all set the stage in God's kingdom plan. The lesson pressed on my heart declared the undeniable truth which states, the privilege of reaping tangible rewards is no more important than sowing the seed that makes a harvest possible. After all, a harvest cannot be collected if a humble sower fails to scatter the seed.

In a world that focuses primarily on reaping the harvest, it's tempting to forfeit less attractive work such as sowing. My experience in the grocery story and Elaine's exposure to the tornado victims left us both disappointed and frustrated, wondering why God chose not use us to offer assistance that very moment. I can't speak for Elaine but when my hands are tied to the point where all I can do is pray, frustration breeds. Prayer just doesn't seem to be enough in acute situations, and given my lesson from verse 38, it's probably due to the fact prayer is a quieter behind the scenes activity.

To be honest I'd prefer to stand by a great harvest posing for a picture that could be treasured and shared for all time, as opposed to praying my heart out in veiled secret. I hate to admit it but it's true...and my oh my doesn't that reveal how easily pride and personal gain can hijack zeal for God. It's a slippery slope we all tread, which is why we must walk life with extreme caution, pray every inch of the way, and humbly submit to the will of God no matter where it leads, be it sowing or reaping.

Application:

Verse 38 stood out to me like a sore thumb. What verse of our lesson today strikes a cord with your heart?

Do you ever find it frustrating to be left to simply pray for a situation? If so, what do you think the core of that disappointment is?

Has your own good natured zeal for God ever been hijacked by pride? What can you do to protect your heart from this sleek and deceptive tactic of the enemy?

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The Hottest Day

I finagled the whole deal. Collaborating with my sister and sister-in-law, we decided yesterday, Tuesday, to get together for lunch and long overdue visit.

Since dad passed away 11 months ago, we no longer see one another on a weekly basis. We miss getting together every Wednesday morning to clean his home, take him to lunch, and tootle about Wal Mart. We never did much special, but the family time was priceless and the laughs were hearty. It's been a dry near year and time for a good ole fashion giggle or two or three. After all, laugher is the best medicine and when we link up, we overdose.

After calling each sister a couple of times, the date was set. I had no idea, however, it would turn out to not only be the hottest day of the year, but so sizzling it broke a 27 year old record. The thought of canceling was out of the question, so my sister-in-law and I zipped through Quik Trip to load up cold drinks before heading out across the desert to Kansas where my sister lives. (It sounds far away but we both teeter on the state line.)

With the A/C running full blast the whole trip, we arrived at my sister's just in time to play ball with one of Cocoa Bean's brothers, Pilgrim, his new canine sister, Lucy, and watch the pet chickens. We stood around the chicks coop in the shade for a about 30 minutes until I caved in complaining of the heat. I was becoming a bit nauseous so we headed into the house to have the best BLT's offered to the world. The mix of cold cold tomatoes and lettuce and hot bacon was nothing short of delightful, all thanks to my brother-in-law who whipped it up as we visited. Better yet, we had our mom's potato salad. It was like traveling back in time to when we were kids. Mercy sakes that was delicious.

With our belly's full, we piled into my car and navigated our way to what was once a K Mart turned Sears, presently converting back to K Mart once again. (Now, may I ask...is someone indecisive or what.) We shopped 70% off bargains that turned out to be no real bargain at all. To top it off, not a singe molecule of air was moving in the joint except for the ones we moved ourselves. After a thorough ransack down each isle, we each stood empty handed looking at one another at which time I pronounced I was hot again and this time...needed a Coke. That's when my sister suggested Winsteads next door to get a Cherry Coke.

Out the door and into the desert, we braved our way across the parking lot noting how hot even the windy wind was. With my car temperature reading 122 and the outside a mere 110, we felt like three gingerbread girls marching in a kiln. Truly, three hot chicks trekking the lot.

Our Tuesday was fun and memorable, no doubt we'll be doing it again very very soon. The hot temperature may have broken a few records but it didn't dampen our enthusiasm. Each day is a gift, whether hot or cold, and meant be used to enjoy one another and the time we have together. I know I am so very thankful for the family I have left.

Hope you are staying cool as the summer comes to a close. What have you done to beat the wicked hot summer's heat?

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All-Around Defense

Dark storm clouds prowled the western horizon, while the new day's sun ascended in the east. Summer bugs were buzzing about as I settled to do my current favorite thing, Peace for the Journey by Elaine Olsen.

The weather man gave me an hour at best to beat the rain. Jimmy and Dani were sitting on the front stoop waiting for her bus, so I scurried onto the deck with my coffee, Bible, Bible study, and 3 x 5 scripture memory verse cards. Thunder rumbled overhead announcing my time was swiftly whittling away, so I hustled through the study as fast as my little beetle brain could manage. Pausing to sit back and chew on a point Elaine brought to surface, I couldn't help but notice the many fortresses surrounding me on all sides.

The picture doesn't show, but Ecclesiates and Cocoa Bean were both sitting next to me, snug at my feet. I love studying on the deck with them at my side because, like personal body guards, they alarm without hesitation at anything out of place. With a natural instinct to protection their home and family, I leave them to filter the surrounding so I can concentrate.

With the dogs as my first layer of defense, another barrier stood tall in a planter just an arm's length in front of me, our citronella plant. Did you even know such a thing existed? I'd never before stopped to ponder where citronella came from until the day we went tomato plant shopping and stumbled upon this green guard. I snatched it up at lightening speed, with full intent on placing it on the deck to wart off summer's vexing mosquitos. I'm happy to report it's proven to be a very affective repellent. When I sit on the deck at night I go to the plant, rub the greenery between my fingers, and wipe the citronella scent on my ankles and arms. I've not been bitten once thus far. I love it!

Dark clouds continued to invade, the table umbrella was unfurled, nature's bushy mosquito repellent sat inches from my face, and two canine body guards rested on each foot, leaving me physically quite safe. Another citadel, however, was also in place, the very reason I'd gone out on the deck in the first place, God's holy Word. Poised and ready to feed my spirit, scripture was at the ready to protect me from an invisible enemy. While outer protection tends to be a more natural instinct, we must never underestimate the hidden battles that await us each new day. After all, balance is key to success and what good is physical health if our spirit is helpless and vulnerable?

Stormy weather, chiggers, and intruders don't hold a candle to our unseen enemy, which is why daily time with God is of utmost importance. What a privilege to hold the word of God in our hands and hearts as we walk through life, for it is with this wisdom our enemy is defeated.

I'm truly enjoy Elaine's Peace on the Journey. Now please share. What study are you enjoying this summer and how is it teaching and touching your heart?

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Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Conclusion

It's been seven weeks post hysterectomy and what a pleasure it is to say things are finally feeling normal once again. I can bend over to tie my tenny runners without bouncing back up due to a bulging uterine ball or a post surgical swollen belly, the bathroom has ceased to be my primary destination every 30 minutes now that my bladder is no longer a victim of "vibroidian" bullies, I can sneeze or cough without wincing in pain, the left over prescribed pain medications have fallen into disuse and are stored away in the linen closet, and the slow hunched over gate I adopted post surgery that gave our dog Ecclesiastes the creeps, has given way to my normal more familiar stride.

All the advise I received before the procedure proved to be ever true and I'm so glad I took it to heart. A hysterectomy is not defined as major surgery for no good reason, you really do need at least six weeks off to rest, recover, and recuperate, it takes months to get back to speed both physically and mentally, and in the end, it's every bit worth it.

It hasn't fully sunk in yet, but in time I'm sure I'll appreciate the absence of my monthly visitor, even though I'll still be seen traipsing through Wal Mart with Kotex pads hitching a ride in my cart, on behalf of our little Dani. Plus, let's not overlook the hilarious thought that it's only a matter of time when the humbling day nudges it's way into reality of which I'll not only be purchasing Kotex in my post menapausal years, but eventually succumb to tossing Depends into the buggy as well. I only pray my future clerks will be gifted with exceptional oblivion on the days I saunter in to stock up on perplexing personal paraphernalia, lest I be driven from the super mart on a blast jocularity.

So there we have it. The journey with your sista who had a hysta has come to a close. I've learned a lot through the endeavor and hope you have too. Thanks for joining me on my hike to renewed health but though it's been a joy, let's not do it again anytime soon.

Blessings!

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Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 8

Benevolent Tote

It's interesting to see who offers what during times of need. Each friend is so creatively different that it's a bit like Let's Make a Deal whenever time the door bell rings. The week after I had surgery my brother and sister-in-law dropped off dinner with a few gifts. The picnic basket was carefully packed with enchiladas, rice, and brownies, while the gift tote weighed heavy with a host of goodies. I was so impressed with her thoughtfulness I thought I'd share it with you!

Treats for the body:

• Blistex: Rasberry Lemonade Blast
• Pocket size facial tissue
• Johnson's Body Care lotion: Melt Away Stress Lavender & Chamomile
• One box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (one of my childhood favorites)
• Bag of plain M&M's with snack size zip lock bags so I could ration my portions
• One small bag of FritoLay Deluxe Mixed Nuts (protein to counter the sugar rush)

Food for the mind:

• Polka dot journal that's cute as a bug's ear
• Word search games (I'm not smart enough for the crossword type)
• Book: Mentalpause...and Other Midlife Laughs, by Laura Jensen Walker
• Book: The Lighkeeper's Daughter, by Colleen Coble
• Book: Twelve Extraordinary Women, by John MacArthur
• Book: Redeaming Love, by Francine Rivers
• Game: Sit and Solve Frame Games (you can't miss this one, it's shaped like a toilet seat)
• Three retractable ball point pens
• Movie: Pride and Prejudice with Coline Firth and Jennifer Ehle

Sustenance for the soul:

• 3x5 index cards for scripture memory verses
• Booklet: A Sketch of Things to Come Based on God's Promise to Abraham, by Dr. Stanley V. Udd

My brother and his wife also brought a daisy plant which contained something we'd never seen before, a Siamese daisy bloom. These are not two daisies squeezed together but actually two in one, a fine freak of nature that gave us all a kick.

The day my brother and sister-in-law brought the meal and goodies happened to be during my second week post-op and a time I was a little down. Life had ground to a halt and I was a bit lonesome. Their visit not only lifted my spirits but also reiterated the importance of remembering those who are ill and out of touch. I hadn't been far from the couch and certainly not out of the house for over a week, leaving me dependent on whatever came my way. Every email, get well card, phone call, and visit was so precious during that time, leaving me to wonder how many forsaken souls are out there in need of care, compassion, and company.

Whether it's surgery, chronic illness, the birth of a child, someone going through a divorce, missionaries in another country, or a friend you have not heard from in a while, consider reaching out to someone today. Put yourself in their shoes and ask God how you could brighten their day. After my recent experience, I now have a whole new appreciation for those who sit on the quiet fringe of society.

Now it's your turn. What are your favorite ways to encourage a friend in need?

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Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 7

Post-op Week 4: Great Reads

While recovery from surgery has been taxing on the body, it's been a wonderful vacation for my brain. I've had opportunity to learn how to navigate Netflix, write blogs to my heart's content, and read some really terrific books. It's been such a blessing too because every book I've picked up has taken me to another place or time, all to drop me back home with a boat load of things to ponder in my heart and mind. Here's a few choice picks.

Scarlet Thread, by Francine Rivers - I began reading this before my surgery because I couldn't wait. It had been sitting on my "yet to read" shelf for about a year, then suddenly the urge to pick it up struck. It's a great story about following God when and where you might not want to go, the tough but rewarding lesson of submission, and the deep healing and restoration that only God can accomplish in stubborn sinful hearts.

Heaven is for Real, by Todd Burpo - One day, about three months ago, Jimmy told me he'd recorded a short interview he thought I'd enjoy. Having no idea what I was in for, I perched my patooty on the edge of the couch, thinking "this better be good", and commenced watching an interview of a four year old boy who had visited heaven during an extremely serious surgery. No longer teetering at the rim of my seat, I settled back and listened to this boy's testimony which gave me goose bumps. With my own surgery pending in the wings, I knew I wanted this one on my list, not because I thought I'd die on the table, visit heaven, and be able to compare stories, but to add to my collection of post surgery to do's. I read this little gem in two days and have to say it's changed me in a good and eternal way. It's a superb read and great gift idea.

Riding the Bus With My Sister, by Rachel Simon - I was exposed to Rachel on Family Network TV and knew instantly hers was a story I wanted to read. She writes of her endeavor of riding the city bus for a year with her high functioning special needs sister, who spends each week day riding the city bus transit system. While most of us load into planes, trains, buses, and cars to get from point A to point B, Rachel's sister does it for sheer entertainment.

Rachel is a clever and gifted writer who had me laughing and crying often in the same sentence. She has a new book out called The Story of a Beautiful Girl, which now sits on my "yet to read" shelf for the not so distant future.

Redeeming Love, by Francine Rivers - This is one my sister-in-law gave me and one I just started. While the cover didn't look familiar, the title sounded oddly familiar. I honestly thought I'd read it before, but a quick scan of the back cover revealed I either have read the book and have no recall of that time spent or the title simply resembles another and it will indeed be a new read.

I'm happy to say that even though the title seemed to ring a rather loud bell, I'm half way through this novel and can attest to the fact my eyes have never passed over this particular sequence of words. Bases on the Bible's book of Hosea, it's a touching story of an example of God's unfailing love lived out through a man named Michael Hosea. Taking place in the mid 1800's, this one is a great escape as it takes the reader back in time to another place far different than our modern day.

I can tell I'm getting better because yesterday I didn't get a chance to read anything. My day included lunch with a dear friend for a few hours followed by a quick run through Macy's and Penny's to see summer's newest selections. It was my first stab at driving since the surgery and it felt great to get out. Once home I had enough energy to bathe Dani and wash a few dishes, a far cry from even a week ago.

I have two more week off before returning to work and still have several books to be read, a few movies waiting in queue, and several department stores yet to trod. Countless people advised me before hand to take the time to recover slowly and not push too hard or too fast during the first month. So far the tips have worked and now I'm strong enough to begin truly enjoy my last days off.

I hope you are getting your well deserved rest as needed too. Summer is a great time to stop and smell the roses. Thanks for stopping by and see you soon!

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Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 6

Not-So-Superwoman

My recovery from this "hysta" has been better than I thought it would be. The pre-surgical dread was far worse than convalescence itself. The first couple of weeks extended a kind hand offering some sort of advancement each day and I gotta say I'm a tad proud given the fact I'm no spry spring chicken at 51. Perhaps like many of you I test my limits, not so much out of bull headedness but more striving to wring the most gusto out of each day. If I can accomplish even a tiny hint of a mite more than the day before, you can bet your last penny I'll try. Sometimes it cost more than I bargained for, as I learned the hard way last week.

At two weeks post op, my sister asked me if she could come over, to which I replied, "Can you come over? Yes! I'd love to see you. Just name the day and time. Lord knows I'll be here." We eagerly set up the date which just happened to be the day I was to see my surgeon for my two-week post op check. Figuring I'd have plenty of strength by then, I threw caution to the wind.

When the date rolled around, Jimmy and I headed for my 0845 doctor's appointment. Since the doctor's office is attached to the hospital where I work, I suggested we stop by to visit the girls in my office. I sensed I was pushing my limits because by the time we walked down the glass hallway from the medical building to my office, I was officially out of gas. After 30-minutes of catching up, I'd begun to wilt like a Violet in the Sahara Desert.

By the time we arrived home I had about one hour to rest before my sister would arrive, or so I thought. A half hour into my "beauty rest" the door bell rang. Jimmy was nowhere to be found, so with my eyelids at half mast I commenced hoisting myself off the couch, careful to use all arm and no abdominal muscles. By the time I made my way to the door, the exhaustion that clung to me like a heavy cloak flew out the door as my sister, her daughter, and two grandchildren came in. It was so refreshing to see family I was down right pumped instantly.

After a quick visit we set off for lunch, the tradition we used to enjoy when dad was alive. We'd meet at his place, clean his apartment, and take him to lunch and Wal Mart. Those were the good old days.

KFC was our craving for the day, so we hopped in her Jeep Wrangler, drove 1 mile, ordered a $5 meal each, and sat down with our feast. It was so good to see my family I guess the adrenaline dulled the pain, because after lunch I didn't want to go home. That's when we set sail for Wal Mart as per family tradition.

Looking back I was foolish to pack so much into one day. The doctor's visit, walk to the office, climb into the Jeep, and prowl through Wal Mart was equivalent to what I'd do on a regular day let alone two weeks post op, not to mention the added taxation of laughing hysterically with my sister, something we do when together without fail. It a comedic curse that comes from my dad's side of the family and utterly impossible to suppress. In fact, knowing how much it hurt for me to laugh, she'd inadvertently make me laugh all the more by trying to be serious. And she says the craziest most unexpected things. Like when I was looking at teeth whitening strips she said, "Your teeth are so white. Don't whiten them any more. I don't trust people with really white teeth." I was so dumbfounded at the comment I grabbed my belly and burst out laughing. Who would ever say such a thing but my sister, and she wasn't trying to be funny.

I had the best time that day two-weeks post op, but I paid for it dearly. Overextending myself for one day set me back the next five. Exhausted and hurting I laid on the couch, unable do little else. Even the pain medication couldn't compensate for what I had done. As careful as I've been during this time of recovery, I over stepped my bounds, only to discover I am not superwoman and must continue to take it slow and steady. No spurts allowed.

That was a week ago and now it's the third week post op. I'm much stronger and weaning off the pain medication, but have learned to divvy out my energy with extreme caution. Yesterday Jimmy and I ran a few errands and I even shopped a little. I am no worse for the wear today but since Dani is off to work and he's shooting a wedding all day, I plan to piddle around the house by reading and watching a movie. I have a hankering to watch "Peggy Sue Got Married" which is patiently waiting for me in the queue on Netflix. God sent rain so I think He's doubly supportive of my efforts to rest and relax this fine day.

I hope you are doing well and are listening to your body's language too. Have a restful weekend!

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Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 5

Two-Week Post Op Check

It's been a little over two weeks since this sista's had a hysta and time to visit the doctor. As a nurse by profession, I can attest to the fact that being the patient is a far cry from providing the care. It's so different, in fact, that when on the receiving end I try with all my might to hide the reality I'm in healthcare so my caregivers won't be tempted to hold back on education. My theory is if they know I'm a nurse, they may inadvertently opt out on certain instructions, thinking I already know all there is to know. One of my biggest fears is hearing the embarrassing words later down the line, "You should have known that. You're a nurse." Granted I'm not an idiot, but there are times when I'm honestly surprised how dull I can be. Remaining incognito is a great back up.

Nurses tend to be list makers because they have so much to remember. We document, record, and log every imaginable thing. It's what we're trained to do from the get-go and for me, after all these years, a checklist is a cozy warm blanket that protects me from the cold icy feeling of having to confess "I forgot."

About a week before this first post-op appointment, I began assembling an inventory of questions for my doctor. I'd been given discharge instructions at the hospital which helped me in general but I wanted specific instructions from her related to me and my healing process. Things like, When can I drive? (Instructions said at two weeks but since I'm still on pain medication I can't get behind the wheel. I'm so glad I asked.) Can I swim? How about bathing in a tub? I know I can't begin now but when's it ok to do aerobics or walk my sweet Labrador who tugs the first quarter mile? When can I give my husband more than a kiss and last but not least, my legs are dying to exercise. Can I at the very least get on my stationary bike and peddle lightly like an old lady?

Since I still can't drive, Jimmy chauffeurs me hither and yon. It's a whole lot of fun because we love being together, we always have. He's the kind of guy I can drag to a fabric store and it doesn't faze him a bit. He'll invariably find something to keep himself busy and best of all, he never complains. He's like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day that never melts, I couldn't ask for more. Given his easy going personality, I knew he wouldn't mind going to the OB/Gyn with me, so off we went, itemized list in hand.

Noting the note in my hand, my doctor listened to my litany of questions like the sweetest of hearts. She knows I'm a nurse and is always kind to accommodate my finicky ways. She knew which question was most pressing on my heart and was sad to tell me I'd have to wait another two weeks before bathing in the tub. Prior to surgery we had a good giggle about my fetish of shaving my legs every single day, without fail, no exceptions. I shrugged and sighed at the thought of another two week tub drought, then decided I might as well adopt a positive attitude. Lifting my chin a dash higher, I shared with her how I'd found a way to shave in the shower.

"Oh! That scares me. You might fall" she said with caution. "No, it's really ok." I reassured. "I've figured out if I stand like a pelican, resting one foot on the opposite knee, I can do it without much pain at all." With that, she swiped her hand up my shin to confirm I had indeed reassumed my daily obsession, shook her head, smiled, and said... absolutely nothing at all.

I can talk to my OB gal about anything. Our relationship, though totally professional, is also extremely intimate, that's just the nature of gynecology. She has a gift of making me feel like she's not only my doctor but close friend as well. She's calm, kind, attentive, gentle, and at peace in all she does. I trust my health to her and have the utmost respect for her and her practice. I did, however, have one beckoning question on my list that stuck in my throat like a clump of baby powder, "Can I have another prescription for pain pills please? If that's ok."

Fearing I'd look like a drug seeker, something that haunts the medical field like Mexico's drug cartel, I could barely bring myself to ask for a refill. Having never had major surgery I didn't know if it was time to wean off the pain meds or if it would take more time. After mustering the courage to broach the topic, she seemed to sense the jitter in my request and light heartedly replied, "Nancy, more pain medication is perfectly fine given your surgery. Now, people who are asking for it three months down the line are the one's we begin to wonder about. This, however, is fine and I'm happy to give you more."

Whewww! What a huge relief. Now I can continue to increase my activity each day knowing I have a cushion for my aches and pains. I have only one regret however. I wished I'd peaked at my scar when she ok'd the refill because, though I can't prove it, I think my 8" scar smiled end to end at the good news.

Hope you are having a blessed week.

Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 4, Hidden Treasure

I'm not sure which I love more, watching a movie that's won a boat load of awards or stumbling across a sleeper that prompts great reflection. While an award winner peaks unparalleled curiosity in the beginning, it can be very disappointing if unable to meet hoopla's high expectation.

A sleeper, on the other hand, has nothing to lose. It in fact holds the upper hand by not being bound with preset expectations. With this in mind, I am always looking off the beaten path for a good movie or book, especially during this time of convalescence. I've been stocking up on a few hidden treasures and the first gem that's gifted me with great joy is Elaine Olsen's "Peace for the Journey."

I've been visiting Elaine's blog for several months and one thing that stands out like a beacon in the night is her enormous love for the Lord. It's simply amazing given her current battle with cancer and the fact it's the real us that comes forward in our most severe trials. I had a sneaking suspicion that God had some special things to teach me through this fellow sister, that's why her study was my first choice during my time of recovery.

Acquiring her study was a snap. I popped her a quick email requesting her literary baby, and in two shakes of a lamb's tail she dispatched an autographed copy. The day it arrived Jimmy plucked it up off the porch step and handed it to me along with an inquiry as to what I'd ordered. "It's Elaine's study!" I exclaimed, assessing the package for its most vulnerable point with which to begin digging in. "She's my blogging friend and I can't wait to begin her study. It's the perfect thing to do while I'm off after surgery."

Once the parcel was open, we stood in awe of the gorgeous cover. I read her endearing autographed note, scanned the back cover and table of contents, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was going to be a special study. The excitement was overwhelming. A new fresh author with different experiences, new perspectives, and her own unique writing style. It couldn't get any better, so with a sense of Clint Eastwood victory tucked under my belt, I took in a deep breath and said to myself, "This has made my day!"

With book in hand, I abandoned the packaging debris on the kitchen table and scuttled out onto the deck. Sinking into the swing, I commenced leafing through her pages as if savoring the menu of a five star restaurant. The more I sifted, the more I smiled. It was going to be a great study, my heart told me so. As the title pledges, sweet peace began to ooze from the pages like honey from a honeycomb and I couldn't wait to meet more of Elaine in days to come. What a privilege to discover this hidden treasure.

I'm pleased to say I have in no way been disappointed with Peace on the Journey. Each study is short, sweet, and packed with God's truth. Elaine knows how to write too. She isn't wordy, flowery, or insincere. Every word is perfectly placed, leaving each tidy message packed with power. Each lesson begins with God's holy word and ends with a prayer. She offers questions to contemplate and scripture for added reflection. I truly love every square inch of this thing, so much so I plan to buy more as gifts for my favorite people.

If you enjoy discovering big surprises in unexpected places and traveling off the beaten path to drop in on new authors, visit Elaine's blog or search her book on Amazon. To get your own autographed copy contact her directly through her blog. I don't know about you but I just love that personal touch.

So, how about you? Has a new author blown a fresh breeze into your life recently? If so, please share. I'd love to hear more.

Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 3

Maiden Voyage ~ 10 days post-op

Healing from a total hysterectomy is long and arduous journey, unless you are fortunate enough to have it done laparoscopic. As one who's had to take the longer route to recovery, I cherish even the smallest advancement and can attest to the fact I see improvement every day, and I think I know why.

Having had time to plan for this surgery, I decided before hand to increase my exercise. Lifting weights, doing aerobics, walking, and taking stairs throughout the day were all in the mix. My theory was to go into the procedure stronger than normal so that my point of recovery would begin at a better place.

Then, once surgery was complete, I dedicated to increasing my protein intake. When weight lifters lift weights and runners cross the miles, the first thing they do after each workout is replenish fluids and protein. Extreme workouts break down muscle fibers, allowing them to heal and grow stronger as a result. Rebuilding muscle requires protein though, and since my abdominal muscles underwent maximum assault, logic dictates that they need plenty of protein to heal and restore. I was so determined to take in at least 30 grams of protein each day, I brought premixed protein drinks to the hospital, adding them to my diet immediately.

Last but not least, I implemented the advice of fellow hyster sisters and made special effort to begin moving immediately after surgery. A mere 12 hrs after surgery, after the foley catheter was removed, Jimmy would help me get up to the restroom, but before heading back in bed, we'd walk (creep actually) to my hospital room door, then to the window, and back to bed. Given the fact my room was the size of a small studio apartment (two T.V.'s, couch, recliner, bookshelf, counter with sink, and desk by the window) it was no short hike. Each time I'd use the restroom I'd walk a little more, and continued this tradition at home where I'd walk small laps, adding more each day. For me it was most helpful to focus on doing a little more each day rather than the discomfort or exhaustion. It's a good thing too because without a doubt each consecutive day proved better than the one before, a recipe I highly recommend.

Saturday (yesterday) was my first outing. We loaded Dani and the pups in the car and took off. Jimmy ran into a few stores, while I saved my energy for my favorite destination, a quaint mercantile east of home in the country.

My chauffeur and honey

Ecclesiastes was way in the back

while Cocoa enjoyed Dani

as a pillow

Old country store off the beaten path

Cockrell Mercantile

Salt and pepper shakers galore

Dips, sauces, and jellies

Click here to continue...

Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 3 (cont.)

Dozens and dozens of dazzling dishes

Colorful cookware

Separate cottages that sell bath soaps, lotions,

oils, and anything else that might feed your fancy.

Another cottage. This one had darling

knick knacks.

I was pooped by the end of our excursion but it was well worth it. What a beautiful spring day to be out and about with the family diligently working on recovery.

Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 2

After nearly four months of testing, assessing, and planning, the surgery is complete. Joining thousands of other women around the world, I too am a sista who's had a hysta. Once word of the surgery got out, an onslot of dear Abby advice drifted my way, which proved quite helpful. Many ladies who've undergone the same procedure kindly offered pointers drawn from personal experience. I was advised to begin moving immediately after surgery, deep breathe and cough, take the full six weeks off, and rest, rest, rest. One gal informed me of the unexpected tid bit that, believe it or not, I'd always remember the date of my surgery, much like I recall 911, the day my children were born, and what I was doing the day Elvis died. Her words were prophetic and in fact came to life as we waited in the surgical holding room.

It had been only two days since the Joplin Missouri tornado struck 150 miles from our home in Kansas City. It was the worst twister since 1940 something and considering the recent tornado outbreaks in the U.S., we were concerned weather might be an issue come surgery day. I awoke thirsty, hungry, and anxious to get a move on, so I took a bee line for the TV to check for severe weather. The meteorologist was my buddy that day as he shared the good news that the risk for severe weather had moved to eastern Missouri. By all accounts we were in the clear and things should have gone off without a hitch.

Per pre-op instructions, we arrived at the hospital on time, checked in at the admitting desk, and was soon escorted to the surgical waiting room. I'd barely warmed up my half of the two-seater leather chair when a nurse, clutching a small bundle of papers, made an entrance. Propping the door open with her foot, she paused, looked down at her documents, and called out in a clear succinct voice...Nancy Douglas? Impressed with the timing, I claimed the name by raising my hand, and heading her way. My flip flops gave sound to what would be my last few painless steps this side of surgery. Time was drawing near and soon this would all be over. I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad. At least things were moving along as planned and soon I'd be on the road to recover.

I first weighed on a rather untraditional scale. Obviously designed to accommodate wheelchairs, it struck me funny as it looked more devoted to cattle. Nearly flush with the floor, the three foot square stainless steel platform offered a plethora of spots to stand. I picked what I thought was most middle, stood still as a statue, and watched the digital display climb like an elevator's ascent to the top of a tall sky scraper. Still snickering at the vision of me on the scale like a black angus cow, I was then escorted to a holding room that was surprisingly bigger than all the rest. Unlike the others it had no sliding glass doors. It appeared to be a room that, when the department was first designed, was too small to make into two rooms, so converted into one that was a large master suite of sorts. Labs were drawn, all sorts of questions were asked from allergies to abuse, and an IV was started. That's when the unexpected happened. The operator on the intercom called a Code Gray.

Hospitals call various codes, many of which aren't difficult to remember. Code Blue means a patient either isn't breathing and/or their heart has stopped. Since this condition causes them to turn blue, the name is obvious. Code Red means fire, which isn't a stretch either, and Code Gray means tornado. Since tornados kick up a lot of dust and debris, gray seems obvious as well. I didn't have to search my memory banks long to realize severe weather was making another untimely visit.

My nurse and I were rather shocked to hear the code since the weather forecast called for a nice day. We turned on my TV all to discover that the tide had indeed changed. Soon there was a knock on the door and Jimmy and Drew were escorted into, since rooms near glass were being evacuated. All surgeries in process were being completed and surgeries yet to be done were placed on hold until the weather cleared. So, there we sat waiting and wondering.

By the time my doctor came in to assure me surgery would be carried out as soon as possible, five tornados were dropping out of the sky around our vicinity. I was relieved to hear the surgery would be done but began to wonder if it would closer to midnight than noon as originally planned.

Then there was Dani. She wasn't with us because she had gone on to her day hab. What was seh doing? Was she in danger? Was she on an outing with her day hab or safe at the facility? About the time our concern hit full force, the Lord sent word through Jimmy's iPhone in the form of a picture of her crouched in the bathroom shower with a text that said, "Your baby is fine. The sirens are going off and we are all in the bathrooms." What a comfort to know our baby was in good hands.

Once the tornados receded into the sky's black carpet over head, warnings were lifted, and the surgical crew came into the room like a swarm of bees. As the anesthesiologist asked the final pre-op questions, three nurses stood around my bed tucking, repositioning, and medicating me for the procedure. Before I knew it I was on the OR table confirming that yes I was having a hysterectomy and desired to keep my ovaries if at all possible. Slipping off to sleep, I don't recall anyone saying good bye, I just drifted off to wherever surgical patients wait for their own surgery to be complete.

As of today it's been one week since surgery and things are going very well. Each day offers a little more independence and strength, and though I have a long way to go before reaching normal, even a little progress lends hope. At least I can get up and down by myself now and don't have to tap Jimmy on the shoulder in the middle night and whisper, "Honey...I have to potty."

Thanks for all your prayers and we'll talk soon. Lord knows I have plenty of time to putter out a few notes.

Pre-op instruction #1 - No make up.

I was in compliance...ugh.

Storm news

Clouds approaching

More...

Drew picked up Dani

and brought her to the

hospital to wait on mama

Your Sista's Havin' a Hysta - Part 1

I recently went in for my regular "lady's check" only to have my doctor peep her head up over my draped knees and proclaim, "Nancy, your uterus is huuuuuuge!" I'm not sure which caught my attention more, the news itself or the look on her face when she told me. Lifting her slim tall frame to standing, she positioned her index fingers about 8" apart and said, "We're gonna have to make an incision this big to get it out."

"Well...how big is it?" I inquired, grasping for a tangible visual. "About this big" she motioned as if holding an invisible ball. The light mood in the air turned a tad serious. With only one minor bladder symptom, neither of us expected the findings.

I left her office dazed trying to absorb the news. All this time I'd had some stealthy thing growing inside me and was totally clueless to its presence. Now surgery with a six week recovery was on the docket. This was a lot to assimilate. Pulling out my cell phone to call Jimmy, I paused to search my mental dictionary. How shall I describe to him what she showed me with her hands? I got the visual I needed from her but now had to convert it to words for him. Where could I begin?

My first inclination was to scan the world of sports, since nearly all games involve balls. Jimmy loves golf but a golf ball is far too small. Her hands held a much bigger sphere. Hmmm...baseball? No. Softball? Nope. Bigger yet. Basketball? Ugh, thank goodness that's way too big. Soccer ball? Naw, still to big. I was at a loss to come up with any more balls to describe my huuuuuuge uterus, so I left the arena and headed to the grocery store.

Walking down the glass corridor of the medical building, cell phone still poised and ready, I set off on a mental voyage to the produce section of the grocery store. I was convince beyond a shadow of a doubt I'd find a fruit to fit my doctor's grip. Ok, let's try this again. Strawberry? No, that's smaller than a golf ball. Apple? Negative. Pear? Nope. Watermelon? Well, that's bigger than a basketball but I could sense I was getting warmer. Ahhh hahhh! That's it. What else is round, grows on a vine, and has seeds you have to dredge out of the middle? Cantaloupe! Yes, yes, yes! I have a cantaloupe sized uterus. Perfect. That will be his visual. Now I can explain the finding to him in a way he'll understand.

I gotta say I'm not thrilled about having surgery and came a hair's breadth from keeping it all private. But then I wondered if maybe this experience might help someone. I have no idea how but I don't know a lot of things. I do trust that the Lord can use it in some way if He chooses to do so. That's why I've decided to chronicle the journey. It won't be about me or my scar but rather what I learn through it all. After all, nothing comes to a child of God that is not first sifted through His hands. There is a good reason why I must stop life long enough to allow my doctor to pluck this fruit and there is some rationale as to why He's allowing it at this time.

Surgery awaits me tomorrow and while I'm not fearful, I am dreadful. I don't hurt at all right now, I never have, but tomorrow things will be different. Life will grind to a halt, leaving me to slowly recover and regain the strength that is so abundant today. I don't look forward to the discomfort but I do look forward to a harvesting of this cantaloupe. My doctor assures me I'll feel better once this thing's gone. My pants will fit better and I will be able to bend over without feeling 4 months pregnant.

We'll chat again soon. Until then you may hear from Jimmy a time or two. I've given him permission to be my right hand blog man.

Much love and blessings to you all.

Be good!