My Journey

Close Your Eyes

2012-01-22T22:01:00.000-05:00

I have the sweetest little grand daughter ever. She melts my heart and gets away with things she really shouldn't...but that angelic little smile; the minxy little grin; that tender little voice...I just cannot resist. Miss J tends to be a little bossy, so her loving, patient momma does try to keep her in check just so she doesn't take over every situation. But she also balances that by letting her have her way plenty of times so she can hone her leadership tendencies! (She's a good momma' my girl!)

Lunchtime yesterday was a case in point.

"I want to pray," announced three year old Miss J as we settled in to munch on our soup and sandwiches. There were no ifs, ands or buts...she was going to deliver the lunchtime sermon and we had better just bow and listen.

"Oh the Lord is Good to Me, is what I'm gonna' do," Miss J said. She reached out her soft little hands. My hungry grandson, their momma and I joined together, bowed our heads and closed our eyes [well, at least Mr. T and I did.] So Jocelyn started off in her adorable & pleasant voice:

"Oh the Lord is good to me
And so I thank Him for,
For giving me..."
All of a sudden without skipping a beat Jocelyn said

"...Mom, close your eyes!
...the things I need; the sun and the rain
And the appleseed, the Lord is good to me!"

I could barely keep from guffawing through the Amen.

Talk about a chip of the old block. I know many times Mommy, in her wonderful way of teaching her young ones, has told the children to close their eyes when they pray. Obviously the lesson sank in. Miss J, because she was in charge of covering the meal in prayer, also thought it her role to keep one eye open for the blighters who might not be fully focussing. Momma Bear was found out!

So when Miss J gave us the nod to release our prayerful pose, both Momma and Grandma headed straight to the walk-in pantry for a moment to compose ourselves. Oh my, I cannot wait until this little lass gets married. Grandma has her hand up to be the MC!

Lost and Found

2012-01-12T09:45:00.000-05:00

As I foraged through my computer maze, trying to clean out some of the accumulated 'stuff,' I came across this in a gmail draft folder. Not sure why I didn't post it at the time. It looks like I wrote it three years ago - likely at the end of my chemotherapy. Care to read my heart at the time? Here goes:

Big Poppa 3 years later after I wrote
this and he's still going strong!

I am so blessed that my wonderful 82 year old Dad is a mere breath away and living amazingly well - alone and only a few hours drive from Drayton. Since my little burp on the health richter scale, I don't see him enough, and I miss him, but thank goodness we stay in touch. My other sisters have stepped in and are keeping an eye, which is comfort to me When Mom died, we were all lost without her. She was the matriarch, the backbone and the driving force for our family. Dad found it tough, being alone and dealing with the grief and sadness

I miss my mother a lot. No matter how old one gets, there's just something about a mother's arms that make things seem a little better. Since being diagnosed with cancer, I have secretly longed to be rocked and to be soothed and to be held close to my mother's heart. But that never happened. Mom's heart failed. On July 20th, 2007, Mom breathed her last and she went to be with Jesus. That was nine months before I even had an inkling about my journey into the sea of untoward cells and the seemingly endless rounds of chemotherapy.

I am glad Mom was not around to see me travel down this cancer road, although I will admit that I selfishly desired the comfort and consolation only a Mom can offer. Mom's frail heart was wearing out and I had been spending quite a long time caring for her. I can't help thinking now how grateful I am that Mom did not have to know and worry about me being sick. There were times when she would tell me that I was making myself sick. She would admonish me and remind me that I needed to take care of myself. I would laugh at her and hug her and then she would give me that wonderful maternal look. Yes I miss my mother. I look forward to that wonderful reunion one day. I will hug her and love her and tell her 'thanks.' (I don't think I did that enough.) Go call or hug your mom. Tell her you love her; that you are sorry; that you miss her; that you are thankful for all that she did for you. You won't regret it, for we never know when darkness will come.

*************

Still wondering why I didn't share this. Probably meant to...the chemo knocked out a few of my favourite memory cells, I guess...

Isaiah 40:31 "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint."

Survivor Sadness

2011-12-29T00:08:00.000-05:00

They said she lost 30 pounds in two weeks. Seems like a lot. But they said she just stopped eating and drinking. Diarrhea, dysphagia and dehydration took over and the diagnosis was in. Ovarian cancer. No one was sure what stage, but it didn't sound too hopeful.

She was the sister of my friend's sister in law. I didn't know her but once I heard the words, ovarian cancer, I knew she was now my sister, too. I asked plenty of questions and quietly decided that I would find a way to help or to at least encourage, pray and introduce her to hope. But, sadly, it wasn't to be. Within 24 hours of her diagnosis, I learned that this dear woman had slipped into the arms of Jesus because of this wretched, whispering disease - ovarian killer cancer - just two days before Christmas.

When I heard this I wept. I felt guilt. I felt sadness. Why should a sister succumb and I still get to sit around the Christmas tree and gaze upon the beautiful eyes of my children and grandchildren? I wake up every morning three years post battle and resume my activities of daily living? Yes, I know about the stages and the importance of finding it early and treatment and strategies and successful chemo...

So why was my cancer found in the early stage? And why was the chemotherapy I endured deemed successful? Why am I in remission and why is my sister dead?

I am glad I am still here to tell my story. It surely was a blessing that my t

ime was not up (I am not ready [at least in my mind] to cross into glory. I still have a long to-do list.) But when I hear of other women who are afflicted and die according to statistics, I weep and wonder.

Meanwhile I continue to carry the torch of hope. I try my best to tell my story to those who will listen. I also try to listen better to others who want to tell theirs; I pray longer and trust God more. I try to laugh more and care less about silly things. There is plenty of advice out there about how to `live like you were dying.` So that`s my goal these days; because I sort of know what that feels like.

But today, my heart is heavy. I will battle the guilt in my own private way and I will wear teal for you, my sister...in your memory.

Say `hello`to Jesus for me...

Happy Birthday, Mom!

2011-12-15T13:16:00.000-05:00

There's me sucking my thumb, as usual!

Not sure, Mom, if that was you who just made everything - including this lovely sepia picture of you, Grandma Williams, Poppa, Rosemary and me, fall off the wall. You always did have a flair for the dramatic and I remember you telling me often that when you moved on to greener pastures you would find a way to get in touch with me and let me know that you are A-okay. I keep watching the tea cups! Nothing yet. But you sure got Gilles' and my attention a few minutes ago. And not only did the framed photograph go flying, so did the mirrored cabinet, the inukshuk that Laura made for me, the lovely little china ornament that Sue gave me a long time ago, the glass framed picture of Rosemary and her grandbabies, the miniature piano and its wooden stool. Nothing broke. When Gilles and I turned around to look after the spectacular crash - not an iota of glass, mirror, wood or anything else was shattered. The top of the inukshuk fell off, but it wasn't attached anyway. Everything else was intact. We couldn't believe it. That seemed more than a little odd!

As I contemplated the law of physics and the height from which all this fell, it occurred to me. Today would have been your 85th birthday. I am thinking that you were perhaps reminding me not to forget. You always did like reminding us about this special day. You always loved the celebrations, didn't you, Mom?

As I sit here contemplating life, assessing all the pre-Christmas busyness, the wonderful crew who will be appearing on our doorstep, Saturday, the Sunday out of town party and how I really should make a list and check it twice, I suddenly realize once again how very much I miss you.

It's been four and a half years since you went to be with Jesus, Mom. Most days I cope and think of you often. Other times, like now, I am once more reduced to a bubbling little girl who longs for her mommy's arms. Christmas does that to me. I know how you loved Christmas and getting together with all the grandchildren and great grandchildren. The quiver is growing, Mom. You would be proud - and ready for a long nap after the big day - "Glad to see them come...but glad to see them leave..." was your 'no beating around the bush' mantra!

Not sure how you celebrate birthdays in heaven but just know that we are thinking of you and praying for you today. Happy Birthday, Mom. All my love Glynis (who is now off to pick up the mess!) xx

2011-11-23T22:35:00.000-05:00

Some things are just worth shouting from the mountain top! What amazing news. Way to go University of Guelph and the doctoral students on the research team.

Marine Motivation

2011-10-24T22:44:00.000-04:00

Four tiny fish swim around and around in the square glass container with the purple rocks. It's a tiny tank but Rosemary, my sister and fish aficionado, told me that the four little bubblers would be fine in there. She told me not to expect my new pets to grow very much, though. Because of the confines of their new home, growth would apparently be limited. Fish grow according to what they perceive to be their boundaries. I looked at the gigantic goldfish gamboling in my Dad's pond. I teetered between feeling good about having rescued these four little blighters from a life of possible peril and feeling guilty that they would never get as big as the other poissons in the pond.

It all started with Dad's desire to have a backyard water garden of sorts. As I mentioned, my big sis' knows a lot about fish and setting up an outside pond. She had her own for years. So to make Big Poppa happy and to complete his landscaping request, she made him a terrific backyard pond. I was so impressed with her handiwork and how asthetically pleasing she created it to be.

Be Fruitful and do your Math!

Rosemary did such a fine job, though, that the environment was seemingly perfect for that age old command to Be Fruitful and Multiply. And multiply, they did. Over the summer we watched numerous hatchings happen. There were gold ones, white ones, black ones, black and white ones, black and gold ones, white, black and gold ones; you name it, the combinations were there. In the end there must have been at least a hundred extra pretty little finned critters vying for a spot in the pond.

And the answer is!

A decision had to be made. The original sixteen big boys (and obviously girls) would be crowded out if the junior swimmers stayed. There was only room for about 20 in the original pond, according to Rosemary's rulebook. So the others had to go. We started thinking about what to do with the extra goldfish. My daughter put her hand up and said she would take a dozen. I remembered a lovely square glass fishbowl that sat silent in my pantry, so I piped up and offered to take a few. The rest we decided, would go to JJ's pond. We all pretended not to think about all the stocked bass in Rosemary's son's pond. We didn't want to consider the possibility of the other 84 or so leftover critters being bass bait. We didn't dare tell that part to Dad. He would sooner make his pond bigger and save them all. But since that was not feasible, we described the vastness of JJ's pond and how happy the extra fish would be (as long as they were fast swimmers and knew how to hide!)

We did our duty and Rosemary and I lowered the motley crew destined for JJ's pond into the big Rubbermaid ® container with the holes poked in the top. I picked out four cuties for my bowl and my daughter saved her 12.

So now here I sit gazing into their square glass home. I like watching them swim around but I still feel a little guilty about taking them away from their spacious environment and not giving them an opportunity to 'lay low' in JJ's huge pond. At least there they might have grown and reached their potential size.

As I look at this gaily coloured marine quartet swimming around in their limited enviroment, call it odd, but I find myself comparing their existence to my own. Then I wonder if I have got myself into a bit of a fishbowl mentality in my writing life. Am I denying opportunities that God has placed right in front of my face? Do I need to talk less and listen more (to His still small voice?) Somedays I feel like I am doing nothing but going in circles. I have a million ideas swimming around in my head but it seems I get nowhere - fast. I know I have a lot of personal things happening but surely I can find significant time to expand my own fishbowl.

Maybe it's a good thing that I adopted my four fishies. Maybe it's a good thing that they are in a prominent place in my house to serve as a reminder. Maybe it's time I find ways to expand my own boundaries and make sure I am doing what God tells me to, rather than what I think. I am pretty sure God doesn't want me swimming around for too long in my self-imposed fishbowl. In fact, I'm having a little trouble navigating around. Time to get back to the drawing board and review my plan of action. Swim said the mamma fish, swim if you can...

On Being Thankful - A Perspective about Attitude

2011-10-06T07:20:00.002-04:00

I wish I was wiser.Why can't I get published more?
How is it that other people get 1000s of hits on their blog and I only get hundreds?
If someone asks me a biblical question and I cannot answer it, I feel less of a Christian.
We don't have our sod in yet and we have lived in our new house for over a year now.
I am too fat.
I am too wrinkly.
I am too tall if I wear high heels.
I am directionally challenged and get lost too often.
I forget all the time. The chemotherapy fried my brain.
My book isn't finished.
I have to look after my Dad every day.
I wish I could draw or paint
It's too cold.
It's too hot.
My feet hurt
I have to pay the dispensing fee on my medication
I don't know what to make for supper
My husband snores
Some people gossip at church
I've nothing to be thankful for today. Everything went wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIVE THANKS

WITH A GRATEFUL HEART
GIVE THANKS
TO THE HOLY ONE
GIVE THANKS
FOR HE'S GIVEN
JESUS CHRIST, HIS SON

AND NOW LET THE WEAK SAY I AM STRONG

LET THE POOR SAY
I AM RICH
BECAUSE OF WHAT
THE LORD HAS DONE
FOR US
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~I wish I was wiser.~~

My students love me and think I am pretty smart. Kyle asked me yesterday if I know the meaning of every word in the dictionary when we were discussing vocabulary. He made me smile.

~~Why can't I get published more?~~

God has me just where he wants me in my writing career. I am thankful that I write a regular column, that I recently won a couple of prizes in a writing contest and that my writer's group value my teaching and some of them are making contacts and getting published. I also like it when I can grasp snippets of time in my busy day to write.

~~How is it that other people get 1000s of hits on their blog and I only get hundreds?~~

Thank goodness people are reading my blog. If I were to line up 100 people that would be a lot of people who are being reached by my words. What if I encourage even one? What if one person draws closer to God because of something I wrote? What if one woman was saved from later stage cancer because she read something on my blog about detecting ovarian cancer early?

~~If someone asks me a biblical question and I cannot answer it, I feel less of a Christian.~~

I have quite a few different Bibles. If I need to look something up, I can use any one of these translations or I can use my laptop computer to search for answers. Most of all I can pray without fear of persecution and ask God to reveal things to me.

~~We don't have our sod in yet and we have lived in our new house for over a year now.~~

We finally own our own home. It has a been a bit of a journey but my happy hubby did a lot of the work. We have been trying to spend wisely and divvy our paycheques. We always have a roof over our head and we work on the finishing touches when we have the time and the money. I think the sod will be in before the snow flies!

~~I am too fat.~~

I sure don't get cold too often! :) My grandchildren love to snuggle. My reflection is only surface. I love my stairs - they are a great place to get extra exercise.

~~I am too wrinkly.~~

Miss J. said that when I laugh I get lines on my face. I love my laugh lines. Laughter is the perfect cover for wrinkles.

~~I am too tall if I wear high heels.~~

Grace and finesse were never for me. If I wore high heels, I would likely end up having to wear support stockings - not a pretty sight.

~~I am directionally challenged and get lost too often.~~

Only Onstar and Google Maps know how often I get lost. They are not about to tell.

~~I forget all the time. The chemotherapy fried my brain.~~

But the chemotherapy also fried the cancer cells. Another good check-up again this past month. So far, so good. One day at a time sweet Jesus.

~~My book isn't finished.~~

My book is at least underway and I received some positive reviews from an editor I met at a writer's conference.

~~I have to look after my Dad every day.~~

My 85 year old Dad has all his marbles, is still able to live alone, trusts me with his affairs and still calls me Dinny (my childhood nickname)

~~I wish I could draw or paint~~

I can write and teach.

~~It's too cold.~~

I have a full wardrobe and I live in a warm house.

~~It's too hot.~~

I have an oscillating fan by my bed with a remote control. We have air conditioning in our new house. We live in Canada. Soon the snow will cool me down.

~~My feet hurt~~

I don't need a wheelchair or a walker. If I have pain, I have medication that is paid for through a drug plan from my hubby's work.

~~I have to pay the dispensing fee on my medication~~

I read about the man who has a terminal disease and he has to pay for his own medication - $3000 a month.

~~I don't know what to make for supper~~

I have a choice. I have food in my freezer, produce in my garden and I cannot recall the last time I ever had to go hungry because the cupboard was bare.

~~My husband snores~~

I have a man who loves me despite all my foibles; who has stuck around for 34 years as of next February and who brings me a cup of tea in bed then kisses me good morning (every morning.)

~~Some people gossip at church~~

Our church is a loving caring safe place and when I was first diagnosed with cancer I had over 100 cards decorating my wall. People visited regularly and I had meals for weeks and then some. Some of the ladies organized a team and looked after my garden and flower beds all summer long. My congregation prayed without ceasing for our family.

~~I've nothing to be thankful for today. Everything went wrong.~~

The brilliant sun shone down on me as I was outside gathering the last of my fresh tomatoes off the vine. One of my students thanked me implicitly for the help I gave her on her project and with her math this afternoon. My granddaughter said she wanted to stay at my house today instead of going home. My sister said she appreciates me. I am sitting here looking at photographs of my family who are all coming for dinner on Thanksgiving Day. I am so excited. Jesus love me this I know (for the Bible tells me so!)

"...be filled with the Spirit, ¹⁹ speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, ²⁰ always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 5:18b- 20

Eight is Great!

2011-09-21T22:39:00.000-04:00

So last Wednesday I tread with trepidation once again, into the cancer clinic. I had been shifted from a check-up every six months back to every three months because of a few suspect problems. I wasn't really worried because deep down in the recesses of my soul, I know God has everything under control. Admittedly I am notorious for snatching things back and then fear rears it's ugly head. But this time I really tried to trust, to rest in Him, to count blessings and to smile.

The oncologist and I had a good chat and after a thorough check up, we discussed a few more things and then he filled out a requisition for bloodwork and sent me on my merry way. The lab, tucked in the corner of the cancer clinic, beckoned me and as I crossed the threshold, the memories surfaced. I took a number and a seat. Then I stupidly wondered where the candy dish was. Each time I had had my blood work done prior to chemo, the kindly volunteer had always offered me a sweet treat. But there was no candy. There was no yellow-clad volunteer, either.

Within a few moments a young gal called me in and I climbed into the big leather recliner and assumed the position. As the blood gurgled slowly into the tube, I prayed. I always pray that God's will be done, but I also always hope that my will matches His!

And the good news is...it did today. I called back to the cancer clinic - just as my primary care nurse had told me. Normal readings for a CA 125 are between 0 & 35 U/ml. My winning number today was 8! It beats the 1500+ that it was prior to chemo!

So now, I do my best to not think about what might have been and try to focus on what's in store tomorrow. I will get up, inhale, give thanks for that breath, smile and then tackle the day. Bring it on. Life is good one day at a time!

Ovarian Cancer Canada Kitchener Mini Walk of Hope

2011-09-10T21:32:00.001-04:00

It's here. Amanda and I have been rushed off our feet and busy as those proverbial buzzing critters for the past while, but the Walk of Hope is ready to roll and is scheduled for take-off tomorrow morning at Victoria Park Kitchener. For some kooky reason I am feeling a tad emotional right now as I contemplate what we are doing. A few minutes ago I looked back in my journal to see what I was doing on September 11th, 2008.

"This was my fifth chemo-day. It was long and I was tired..." my journal entry begins.

Yes, that stinkin' bittersweet poison that dripped away choking out the cancer cells. Hard to forget those times. Chemo took its toll. I still have tell-tale effects that I don't think will ever go away - tingling in my toes and feet; memory pauses (that's a nice way of saying stupidly forgetful); sleeplessness and other niggling things. But I made it through thus far and I am jolly-well grateful and am enjoying survivor-status. I can handle and truly live with those leftover reminders, when I think about what might have been.

God didn't quite have my heavenly room ready, I guess and I am thinking He had some other plans for this noisy girl. Hopefully I am on the right track.

Doing my part to help spread the word and raise awareness about the signs and symptoms of ovarian cancer seems to be a bit of a passion - one of the reasons for my involvement in this Walk of Hope tomorrow. Maybe I am supposed to be a mouthpiece - not exactly one of my weaknesses.

As I hit the pillow tonight, I am praying for sunshine tomorrow, for a great crowd, for an injury free walk, for sisters everywhere who are dealing with ovarian cancer to realize they are not alone and for this event to leave a sweet taste in the mouth of participants and volunteers alike. An extra prayer tossed in for the tent not collapsing or me not forgetting what I am supposed to say, for some divine appointments and for anyone battling the disease to feel HOPE.

Yours Truly September 2008 at the Barrie Walk of Hope; we've come a long way baby!
(I think I am wearing the same shoes tomorrow at the Kitchener Walk. Yikes! I need to go shopping.)

Thanks everyone for your support.

Maybelline

2011-08-15T23:18:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of meeting Maybelline. She was a pretty dark haired woman probably in her mid-forties. She, and just over 200 residents of the community of Sandy Lake, had been evacuated and were now being housed in the arena in downtown Arthur. The residents who arrived in Arthur, not too far from where I live, were offered temporary accomodation there because their community was being threatened by forest fires. Sandy Lake is a community of about 2,800 residents and is close to the Ontario-Manitoba border. Arthur residents had kindly tossed a bit of a lifeline. I thought that was such a great gesture, reaching out to those in need. I wanted to help.

My delightful grandchildren in tow, we walked a little aimlessly into the arena intent on dropping off some games, toys and children's books to help offset the boredom some of these poor, displaced folks - especially the children - must have been experiencing as they anxiously awaited word that they could return home. And I also wanted to ask how else I could help.

Along with the items I had sorted to give away, I thought it might be a good thing to tuck in a few of my own books hoping that someone might enjoy them. So I did. I signed a few copies and included them in the box. At the arena, I received direction from the Red Cross gal at the desk and she told me where to take my package.

That was when I spotted Maybelline. There were many people milling around, quietly sharing words, drinking coffee, watching and waiting, walking back and forth. Everyone was busy and focussed on something. Except Maybelline.

There was just something about her. Something that made me want to sit and listen to her story. Her smile lit up her face. She stared at me. White girl bringing in 'stuff.' I suddenly felt a little sheepish.
After I had finished emptying my box, I found myself clutching one of my books - A Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider. She smiled again and seemed to beckon me to sit down. I did. I asked if it was okay, and she said, yes.

Before 30 seconds had elapsed she was already sharing her situation and how devastating it was for her and her two teenage children to be taken away so suddenly from their home. She had no idea what was happening, although she did tell me that they received daily updates and she was hoping that by Thursday they would be able to return home.

Maybelline looked at me with those deep brown eyes and told me how grateful she was and how nice everyone was to her. She was humbled by the generosity of the local people. I asked her if she might like to read my book. Her face lit up and she tossed me another helping of her special smile. I handed the book to her and we continued to chat a little longer. I learned that she was a single mom with two teenage children. She was in Arthur with some of her other family members - aunts, uncles and siblings. But she described how many other Sandy Lake residents had been separated from their families as they faced the evacuation and she talked about how she really did not know what to expect when she would finally be allowed to go home. No one really knew. The unknown was particularly hard on everyone, she told me.

We had a nice chat. Looking back now, I should have asked her to come to my house for dinner. I should have asked her what else I could do for her. I should have given her that ten dollars in my purse. But I didn't. Maybelline and I said our farewells after a while and before I knew it I was in my vehicle with my grandbabies, heading home.

I kept wondering if I missed an opportunity. But later, I turned to page 207 in A Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider - the book that I had given to Maybelline. The title was Bannock and Sweet Tea...then I knew why I had to give her a copy...

Since You Left...

2011-07-20T00:50:00.001-04:00

Dear Mom,

Since you left not much has happened, but really, a lot has happened. I guess my initial thought is that nothing happened because life came to a screaming halt the day you died. But although that seemed to happen at the time, and I didn't want to go on without my momma', somehow the sun came up the next morning and life continued.

It surely doesn't seem like four years since you asked for that last cup of tea in the back bedroom at our house. "Hurry," you told Rosemary as she held that cup to your lips. Being the dear British soul right to the end, you knew your last sip of earthly refreshment had to be a cup of tea. Good for you. It makes us all smile when we think and talk about that sad and glorious day. We consider the day sad, because we had to release you. But we released you all together into the arms of Jesus and now we know you are pain free, oxygen free, wheelchair free and just...well...free. That's the glorious part.

Did you notice how Dad visited your grave every Wednesday for two and a half years? He sure does miss you - how could he not after being in your life for 55 years? But we are trying hard to keep him happy, safe and comfortable. "Look after your Dad," you told us. We're trying. He's liking it here in Drayton in his little house. He has lots of friends. You would be proud of how he gets out to socialize at least two times a week now! He heads up to The Crest for coffee every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork on his scooter. Once in a while they have an evening dinner there and they always invite him to come. He packs up his cutlery and plate and usually goes with a smile on his face, although I know he wishes you were by his side on your scooter! We are all glad he is getting out, though. The house gets a little lonely for him somedays.

Amanda, Janice, Ruthie, Janine, Annie, Angie, Jenny all had babies after you left. Can you believe that? Ruthie actually has had two little darlings since you went home and Annie is pregnant with her second right now. Maybe you already knew this, though. Did you get to kiss each little angel before they left heaven? So many great grandbabies for you and Dad. You would have been ecstatic, I am sure. I think Jocelyn looks like you in that one picture. Remember the one of you, Auntie Gwen and Auntie Val swimming in the sea - the one where you are all wearing those bathing suits that Nana knitted for you? Jocelyn has your curls and a bit of your stubborn, beautiful independence!

Rosemary has been such a blessing since she moved close to Drayton and her biggest job was last year when she made a fish pond for Dad. It continues to be both a challenge and a thrill. Rosemary has the challenge and Dad has the thrill! The fish are being most fruitful and know their math very well - especially their times tables, if you know what I mean.
Dad has some in the aquarium (or should we call it the birthing room?) inside the house and the big ones are outside enjoying the heat in the pond these days. I guess Rosemary has created a happy home for the fishy family!

Have you noticed Dad's back yard? Lots of flowers and plants, huh? The new shed was a great acquisition - now the garage won't be so full in the winter. Each winter we bring in that lovely hibiscus tree. Dad likes looking at it every day next to the pond. It's bit of work looking after Dad's garden but well worth it when we see how it makes him happy.

Sue tries to get down to see Dad most Wednesdays but sometimes she doesn't feel so well since that

(Mom - Enid Latham 1926-2007)

stupid lupus took up residence. She bought herself a nice little house in London and works hard looking after her big old German Shepherd babies. Sometimes she takes them to dog shows.

We don't see John a lot, but that probably isn't a big surprise to you - the happy recluse? When I do talk to him I always hear your voice saying "Put the flag out!" I know he misses you a lot, too and when we do get together and your name comes up then I see him being a little teary.

Eight months after you departed for a better place, Mom, I ended up with ovarian cancer. I think you knew that, though, right? I'm saying that because when I was journeying through some of those valleys, I would sometimes sense that you were nearby. Gosh, I am so glad that that did not happen when I was still looking after you. We would have been in a bit of a mess, wouldn't we? I'm not sure why God allows things to happen like that, but one thing I do know - His timing is perfect! They say I am in remission now but they are keeping an eye on me so they switched me back from six month check-ups to three again. Boo...in one way...but I am glad in another. They do say early detection is the key, although the new kid on the block - doctor - told me that if my cancer does come back then it means the chemotherapy that I endured for six months didn't work and I would be considered terminal. Methinks those are pretty harsh words. I do wish I had my original oncologist back but he ended up leaving the hospital and going back to France. Oh well. I remember some of the doctors you and I dealt with over the years as you dealt with your many different ailments. We don't always hit it off with everyone, right.
I have to run, Mom. It's getting late and I need my beauty sleep. Gilles, bless his heart, is already sleeping soundly after a hard day's work. But I did want to say one thing before I go...thanks...thanks for being a wonderful mom and my best friend. Thanks for caring and for quoting those lovely words to us often - "To thine ownself, be true..." (was that from Hamlet?) And most of all thanks for opening the door to Jesus when I was very little and for teaching me how to pray...maybe you did not know that then, but you really did give me words that opened the door to me getting to know my Lord - May four good angels guard my bed,
Two at the foot, two at the head,

And keep me safe all through the night,

Until I see the morning light,
Thank you God; goodnight. AMEN

(Thank you, Mom, and may four good angels be guarding your bed now. Good night. Love you - forever) xx

Tyranny of the Urgent

2011-07-04T00:42:00.000-04:00

"I just don't have enough hours in a day!"
Thus the familiar, woeful moan echoes in my mind once again. So much to do. So little time.

Sometimes I look at my fellow prolific writer friends or supermoms & (grandmoms) and I wonder how they do it. I try not to, but when I read and hear about their lists of accomplishments, envy rears its ugly head and a pity party commences.Thank goodness, though, God has been keeping a close thumb on me lately and reminds me often how blessed I really am.

The other day as I sat in the cancer clinic again, waiting (what a waste of time) my turn, I tried not to think about all the things I could be doing instead. Then I looked up and noticed the sun shining through the clinic skylights, lighting up the room with a sort of divine brilliance. Then I thought about the Son who lights up my heart. The envy slipped away and I counted blessings instead.

1. I am upright, breathing and I have hair
2. I am a wife, a mom, a grandmom and my family loves me and my friends love me - warts and all.
3. God forgave me [and continues to do so.]
4. I love to teach.
5. I love to write.
6. I get paid to teach and write as a profession and I do it out of my own home so my hours are flexible.
7. I am at the cancer clinic for a check-up, not chemotherapy.
8. I got to attend five books signings in May, four in June and there will be one more in July just because I had one little short story published in Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider.
9. 98 people wished me Happy Birthday on Facebook; 2 wished me a belated one.
10. Jesus Christ is my Lord and Saviour (How much more blessed can I be?)

Psalm 90:12-17

Oh, teach us to live well Teach us to live wisely and well! Surprise us with love at daybreak; then we´ll skip and dance all the day long. And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh yes, Affirm the work that we do! AMEN

Treasure

2011-05-20T21:23:00.000-04:00

A while ago I made the decision to 'treasure the moments.' I decided I would trust God and although it is a wise move to think ahead and to plan one's life up to a certain point, I want to live day to day with Jesus at the helm. Miss J was born almost three years ago. I recall telling her, when she was a wee bairn in arms, that one day we would have tea together. Today it happened

Miss J was to spend a few hours with Grandma. As usual I had a list as long as my proverbial arm. As I thought about deadlines and duty, I felt a little God prod reminding me about the way I have been signing my 'Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider' books lately.

Over the past month or so, I've had the privilege of joining other authors [and then one day alone] at different events to help promote, sell and sign this great Canadian authored anthology. Most of the time when I flip the page to my bio and story, I scribble my name along with the words - Treasure the Moments.

Today, I felt God ask me - "What does that really mean?" 'Twas shortly after that that Miss J asked me to read her a story. Four books later I asked my darling granddaughter if she wanted lunch. "Pancakes," came her request. "Do you want to help me make them?" The giggles and anticipatory glee that filled her face was confirmation that this was to be time well spent.

We stirred, mixed, measured and tasted. . No way were we to sit at the kitchen counter or at the big table. This was going to be a picnic teaparty and Miss J was orchestrating it. She found a perfect little wooden tv tray in Grandma's pantry along with the tartan tin that held the little brown china teaset. The table was being prepared. Miss J knew where the cloths were, too. She picked out a few grubby ones but I didn't deny her. She liked the colours but instead of putting them on the table as a cover, she placed the two cloths on our stools. We were to sit on them. I would oblige. As I stood on guard beside the hot grill, Miss J set our table. Eventually we sat down and giggled through our pancakes and maple syrup and our tea-milk was deliciously delightful in the mini cups. There were a few uh-ohs as Miss J miscalculated how much to actually pour. But it was such a blessed and almost a holy time, if I can dare say that.

What a privilege it is to be a grandma. What a treasure it was today to feast on chopped up pancakes on our little plates. What a blessing it was to sing and to rock little Miss J to sleep after lunch and to tell her how much Jesus loves her. Next time I sign a copy of Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider and write in my little trademark notation - Treasure the Moment, I will remember this day. And I will treasure it. Thank you God for the poke...

For where your treasure is, your heart will be also...Matthew 6:21

Gold - Peace of Mind.

2011-05-17T08:16:00.000-04:00

Yes, it's been a while. I have been putting off talking about it. I didn't want to consider the 'what-ifs.' But now I feel better. The tests are done. The results are in.
After my six month routine visit to the cancer clinic in April, there was some indication for concern. My oncologist was less than encouraging when it came to doing tests to confirm or deny. "If the cancer is back then it means the chemo did not work and then you would be considered terminal," he kept telling me. I had trouble making him understand that I am the kind of person who needs to know. And if the cancer was back then I would deal with it. He tried to convince me that they would not do anything until I had more severe symptoms. (I still can't get my head around that.) But after a lengthy discussion and a few tears, my oncologist finally decided he would order a colonoscopy and a CT scan.

First came the colonoscopy in Palmerston. Dr. Omole was a gem and really did show compassion and understood my concerns. He promised to do a thorough check-up. And he did. I was put on the top of the list for the test and within one week I was back at the cancer clinic clutching my 'clean' report. Relief #1.

I headed up to Walkerton the following week for the CT scan and as I lay on the examination table - the dye coursing through my body - I relived my first scan that took place on that very table three years ago. The memories surfaced as I recalled how my life changed forever. I discovered the hand of God; the unconditional love of family and friends and how much I am not in control of a single thing.

But here I am. Back on stage and the news is good. The CT scan shows no indication that the cancer has resurfaced. Relief #2.

I have an appointment next Wednesday at the cancer clinic. My doc wants to see me. I am sure all is well. Maybe he wants to say he told me so. Methinks I will thank him for giving me peace of mind. It is as gold...

A Rockin' Good Time!

2011-05-02T07:49:00.002-04:00

The Sunflower Seeds Team Trying to be Serious!

To say that Zeal for Teal was less than a blast, would be doing the day a disservice. Close to ninety participants gathered at the Drayton Arena this past Saturday to scrapbook and make cards for the cause. Zeal for Teal is an amazing day out for busy gals. Our theme this year was 'The 50s' and it surely was a hoot. We enjoyed door prizes every half hour; hula hoop challenges; bubblegum blowing contests; delicious food and snacks; a sweeeeeeeet candy bar; superb vendors and more! The gals who took time out of their busy schedules were the top of the pops! What great attitudes and the laughter that we shared that day should be bottled and sold - we'd be rich! And to think everyone did it to help raise awareness and funds for our Sunflower Seeds team Walk of Hope for Ovarian Cancer Canada is humbling. Thank you to all who joined in the fun. We can't wait to see you all again next year!

Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider release announced at Zeal for Teal 2011!
I was thrilled to have sold 9 signed copies of this book on Saturday. With the sale of every book I donate $5 to Ovarian Cancer Canada and $5 to The Word Guild. The Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider contains a portion of my cancer story - page 92. If you want me to send you a signed copy of this delicioously inspiring anthology written by 37 Canadian writers, let me know! $19.99 plus shipping or you can pick it up or I will deliver it if you are close by! On May 7th I am doing a signing at the Studio Factor in Drayton (2-4pm). Then on May 14th I am doing a signing with 5 other authors at the Chapters Bookstore - King Street in Waterloo (1-3pm)!

Claudia Connor (centre) the National Coordinator for the Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope joined us at Zeal for Teal and was even able to find herself a Pink Lady jacket. What a thrill to have Claudia with us this day. She blessed us all by telling us a little of her story - she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer when she was 33 years old. She is the perfect person to plan and coordinate these walks across Canada. We cannot wait to get involved in preparing for the Kitchener Walk of Hope to be held on September 11th, 2011.

Meet our most amazing diner cooks - Yvonne Timmerman (left) and Ann Kabbes (2nd from right). We had nothing but compliments about the meatloaf, homefries, and mushroom beans! Thanks ladies. You are the top of the pops!

My special angel. Amanda is the brains behind the day. Zeal for Teal began with a dream and a purpose three years ago. I am honoured to be blessed with such a gal and she has been there for me every step of the way. We make pretty good teammates! Thanks Amanda - you really do rock!

Visitors were welcome at Zeal for Teal. Hope you enjoyed your lunch Trenton!

When I Am Afraid I Will Trust In You...

2011-04-14T22:36:00.000-04:00

April 30th is getting mighty close. Zeal for Teal, our Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope fundraiser is just around the corner and we are pumped and ready to rock and roll!

Amanda, my darling daughter and the brains behind the day, told me the other day that she was getting a tad nervous seeing that we have double the number of participants from last year registered and people are still calling! How exciting. This year we also have Claudia Connor - the National Coordinator for the Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope - visiting with us to bring greetings and encourage everyone as they participate in a great day of scrapbooking and card making for a purpose!

For anyone who is planning on coming to the fundraiser at the Drayton Arena, expect an upbeat day with lots of reasons to celebrate. We are also inviting those who may only want to come for a quick visit or for a wonderful diner dinner (lunch) to drop in and make a suggested donation to the Sunflower Seeds Team for the Walk of Hope.

I am looking forward to a great positive time with some great positive people! This month has been a little emotional for me for a few reasons...I have been having a few issues of late and this week I had to endure a not so pleasant test - however I am happy to report that the news is good for round one! No signs of spreading to the innards! Round two happens next Thursday - April 21st when I return to the cancer clinic. My plan is to make this a smooth knockout. We will see how it goes!

Meanwhile we will keep looking heavenward and trusting the Great Physician who, I have learned over the last few years, has everything...and I mean everything...under control!

When I am afraid I will trust in You...Such are the beautiful lessons we can learn from children...

The Check-Up

2011-03-25T00:34:00.000-04:00

I'm here. I made it. Six months since my last visit and I sit in my forest green chair and I wait my turn. As I join the many people seated in the cancer clinic, that old familiar feeling surfaces in the pit of my stomach. I have spent my five minutes in the lineup at Clinic Reception 2 and have now traded my appointment slip for pager #103.

"Go fill out your questionnaire, please, then have a seat," says the kindly receptionist behind the screened area.

Like an obedient puppy, I obey. I know the routine. The black Acer screen beckons me with its cancerous finger. I forget my password. I don't want to appear a fool so I try to reset it. An older gentleman clad in the gayly coloured lemon-yellow volunteer's smock with the cancer society logo on the pocket, appears from nowhere. I confess I have forgotten my password. Six months is a long time and my cerebral hard-drive contains 15 or 20 other passwords.

"What year were you born?" asks the kindly volunteer.
A rather personal question, I think. Then I remember nothing is hidden at the cancer clinic. 1956. I punch it into the keyboard. Bingo. It works. I answer all the required questions. Eventually the printer spits out the completed page and I clutch it to my chest.

As I take my seat, I see a woman about my age, holding a beautiful, ebony-haired toddler. Grandma - perhaps? The mother hangs on to the empty stroller and positions herself three seats over from where I sit. She chooses the pink chair.

Dear God, I find myself thinking. Don't let her be the one with cancer.

I do not want the Grandma to be the reason they are at the clinic today, either. But my heart was heavy lest it be the young mother of that beautiful little boy.

Soon the dreaded sound of my pager buzzing brings me back to reality and Kay, the nurse, catches my eye. She greets me in her usual, professional and friendly manner. She settles me into the sterile exmination room and asks me for my completed questionnaire. We speak for a while. She documents my concerns and tucks them into the file.

"Doctor S will be in to see you in a while," she smiles.

She hands me my less than glamorous hospital gown before she leaves and tells me to take my time because Dr. S is busy today. I wait. I dig into my red, Write! Canada bag stuffed with papers, my camera, a writer's magazine, my agenda and a notebook. I don't know what to do first.

My brain plays tricks.

Your cancer is back! Your cancer is back! The enemy has a heyday.

I pull out my Fellowscript magazine and start to read. I smile when I see the article written by Marcy Kennedy and Lisa Hall-Wilson - TWG members, on co-writing an article. I remember the listserve discussions on this subject a while ago. I flip through and read articles by more TWG authors. I suddenly feel like the prayer team is with me today - although I didn't tell them I was coming.

Then I think how hesitant I was telling my family about what I would share today. The enemy prods me again - ...the sin of ommission is lying...so you lied to your family...what kind of wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend are you?

Then I feel the presence of Jesus. A peace washes over me and He tells me not to believe the lies. He tells me that it is honourable to care about the feelings of others and that I ommitted nothing. He soothes my soul and tells me it is well.

I hear the footsteps. The door opens and Dr. S enters..

Prizes & Surprises!

2011-03-20T19:04:00.000-04:00

Amanda - 4years old in her new outfit!

I had a nice surprise this morning. The memories flooded back. Amanda, my darling daughter and her little ones walked upstairs to the balcony at church. I giggled out loud when I laid my eyes on Jocelyn. My little granddaughter was wearing the same burgundy crushed velvet dress that I made for her Mommy 27 years ago! She looked so cute. Just the way I remembered her mommy when she was wearing it! I didn't even know Amanda still had that outfit!

Boy, oh boy...it sure made my day. Amanda has an uncanny way of doing that - knowing how to make my day.

Jocelyn - almost 2 1/2 years old in the same
(27 year old outfit!)

So I am not one bit sorry that I nominated her a few weeks ago for a glamorous makeover at Guys and Dolls Salon in Elmira - and guess what? She won! Here is the little blurb I wrote on her behalf:

*************************

The name, Amanda, means worthy of love. Amanda, my daughter has more than exceeded her worth. In 2008 I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was a time of upheaval for our family, however Amanda rallied behind me and never let me say 'die.' She found ways to cheer me up, and took me hat shopping when I lost my locks. She brought my beautiful grandbabies to visit because she knew they brought joy to my heart. In fact, Amanda gave birth to her second child two days before my scheduled surgery. I desperately wanted to see my grandbaby and I had been praying that she would go into labour before I went into surgery. Our prayers were answered and I got to attend the birth of little Jocelyn.
Amanda gives unconditionally and she attended to my needs without expectation. Ever since my tango with cancer in 2008, Amanda's passion to 'do something to help,' has encouraged and inspired me. She found out about the Ovarian Cancer Canada's Winner's Walk of Hope and she signed us up as The Sunflower Seeds team right away. It's been three years now and still we continue to walk and do our part to fundraise and help turn up the volume on this silent killer.

Amanda was the 'brains' behind Zeal for Teal - a scrapbooking/cardmaking 'Ladies' day out' fundraiser for Ovarian Cancer Canada. We are now preparing for our third annual event in Drayton in April and anticipate 100 participants. All because of Amanda's drive and initiative, I was able to 'fight the good fight.' She gave me a sense of purpose and we are now able to 'give back' and help other women who may be facing cancer.
When I saw the sign on your Guys and Dolls' window, I thought what fun it would be to nominate myself. Then I instantly chastised myself and realized that Amanda is the worthy one. She has given unselfishly and supported me with love and hope and joy in her heart. She rarely gets time for herself. (I think the last time she was pampered in a salon, was the day before her wedding!) Amanda would be a perfect person to receive this Makeover Contest. She has blessed me more than she will ever know!

****************

Imagine my surprise when I received the telephone call the other evening telling me Amanda had won. Imagine my shock when the sweet gal at the spa told me that my story made them all cry and they decided that not only would Amanda win a makeover - they were going to bend the rules and make it a mother/daughter treat. Who'd have thought? So now Amanda and I have to decide on a date...maybe we should get matching outfits! Grin.

Another Timmie's Angel

2011-03-05T21:32:00.001-05:00

Each Tuesday, Jocelyn and I get some granny time. Mommy is busy cleaning at Big Poppa's house so I get to whisk my darling little granddaughter away for a few hours. One of our Tuesday morning rituals is to high tail it over to Arthur to pick up the special 'British paper' for Big Poppa. Then we head on over to Tim Horton's to buy our usual 'treat.'

******

We arrived at Timmies - busy as usual. Jocelyn and I were chatting away - likely discussing the perils of Larry the Cucumber or the antics of Dora. Before I knew it, we were in line in the drive-through to get our goodies. It's a little lazy on my part, but not having to figure out the combination on the baby seat and then not having to wrestle with 2 year old legs, arms, snowsuit and boots, is my justification for staying in the vehicle to retrieve my purchases every Tuesday.

I got to the intercom and the lovely lady on the other end spoke.

"Welcome to Tim Horton's. May I take your order?"

"One steeped tea [for mommy] - just milk, double cupped; a pomegranate white tea, nothing in it except the teabag, [for me;] a Dutchie doughnut [for Big Poppa] and two Dutchie Timbits [for Miss Jocelyn] please.

"That will be $5.48. Please drive up to the next window."

I reached for my wallet and stuck my hand in looking for a crisp bill of some description. Panic set in. Nothing. I grabbed my change purse in hopes that I could muster up $5.48. A sick feeling stimulated the adrenalin and the nausea. $3.20 in change. What could I do? My calculator brain was on hold. All I knew was that I did not have $5.48 to pay for my wares. And there was no backing out. There were now three or more cars in the drive-through line up behind me. I got to the window and sheepishly spoke.

"Would you mind just cancelling the one tea...or the Dutchie...or...I was becoming unglued and I had forgotten how much the tea was...or the Dutchie..." The lovely angel with the headset smiled at me and looked like she felt my angst. I watched the person behind me in my rearview mirror and wondered if he or she was wondering what the hold up was. I found another 85 cents in the bottom of my purse and in the glove compartment. Still not enough. $1.43 short.

The nice Tim Horton's gal started handing me my order. One steeped tea...one pomegranate white...one Dutcie...two Timbits. I was speechless. She winked. I gulped.
"Thank you. Have a nice day." I drove away...

I thanked her again. She winked again. I drove away with my full order and a skip in my heart. I determined to pass it on somehow. That nice, Tim Hortons' angel made my day.

And if that wasn't enough. I finished my tea; I rolled up the rim...'You win a free coffee!' Life is good...

Mitch

2011-02-13T20:24:00.000-05:00

Probably one of my fondest recollections of Mitch took place many years ago when she was onstage singing with a group of rascally, sweet boys -

I ain't got nothin' for Christmas

Mommy and Daddy are mad.

I ain't got nothin' for Christmas

'Cause I ain't been nothin' but bad!

I laughed. I remember her minxy manner but I also remember her genuine smile. She was 'just one of the guys' and everyone liked Mitch.

Mitch encountered many valleys in her life. I am sure there were times when she felt like she was 'nothin but bad.' But she managed to face her demons head on and fought long and hard to get herself on the straight and narrow. She is one of the kindest, most likeable people around our little village.

For years now, Mitch has worked around town doing jobs here and there, volunteering wherever and whenever there is a need. Her particular passion is children. Many children know Mitch. She is known for her high fives; her cheery smile and the way she hits it off with every child she encounters.

When I was going through my treatments I recall bumping into her downtown and her welling up when she saw me in my semi-balding state. I think she joked about my hat and we shared a few sarcastic lines. What I really remember was how she put a smile on my face and I left her feeling a little richer.

For almost two years now Mitch has had the perfect job to suit her gifts - crossing guard just down the road from the public school. No matter the weather, Mitch, donned in all her crossing guard finery - neon jacket and carrying her big red, octagonal stop sign, has been there for all her little charges. Not only has Mitch been a reliable soul helping and keeping watch over the children as they headed to school and back again each weekday, but she often went the extra mile. Talk with local moms in the community. They are keen to share stories of how Mitch cleared sidewalks so they could push their awkward strollers along the snowy pathways. I heard tales of how Mitch would remember birthdays and recall names. She would watch traffic with a keen eye and flash her winning smile and wave her big red octagon to drivers she recognized. I often watched for Mitch as I came into town during school hours. Her cheery smile was like the town welcoming committee.

A few weeks ago now, Mitch was dealt another nasty blow. She was fired. She was let go for protecting the children and I [along with many moms and other concerned citizens of our little village] am furious.

An impatient driver revved his engine and acted inappropriately as Mitch held her stop sign high so that children could safely cross the road. Everything came to a head when Mitch attempted to do her job and obtain the driver's license plate number so she could report his dangerous actions to the police. A few people with an extraordinary amount of power somehow got the wrong end of the stick and Mitch's actions to guard the children were misinterpreted. No fair trial. No discussion. No explanation. She was let go.

See the KW Record stories for details of what happened:

http://www.therecord.com/news/local/article/480441--parents-angry-over-crossing-guard-s-firing

http://www.therecord.com/news/local/article/481305--driver-warned-in-crosswalk-incident

http://www.therecord.com/news/local/article/483575--council-upholds-crossing-guard-s-firing

A group of concerned citizens rallied together on Mitch's behalf last Tuesday. 'Twas all in vain however, when the powers that be sadly did not allow the voice of reason to prevail. Mitch was not allowed to return to her post. She is greatly missed.

One supporter of Mitch's posted last week on Facebook about how God has a plan. I believe her. I believe her words. I believe that once something sad happens, something exceedingly beautiful occurs. Without sadness there can be no joy. It takes little effort to lop off branches from a withering tree. Within a short while, soon the tree bears fragrant blossoms, promising and ultimately producing succulent fruit.

I am thinking that God just might have seen an opportunity to pinch Mitch and point out to her how much she is loved and appreciated. I am thinking that He is now ready to make a good thing out of this wretched situation.

Someone might have lopped off your branches, my friend, but the fruit that is being produced will be luscious and sweet. Hold tight. Brace yourself.

All things work together for good to them that love Him and are called according to His purpose (Rom 8:28)

Her Mom

2011-02-02T01:08:00.000-05:00

Her name was Crystal. I took my purchases up to the counter and the smiling young lady - barely grazing 20 years old, began ringing in my purchases. We started chatting and she asked me about all the scrapbooking items in my basket. I told her about our Zeal for Teal fundraiser. I explained how we were doing it in order to help raise awareness and educate women about Ovarian Cancer.

Crystal's nimble fingers stopped for a moment. She ceased pressing the keys on the cash register and looked deep into my soul.

"That's what my mom died of," she said. "And now I am having a baby and I miss her terribly."

I gazed at her little belly. Barely sprouting. A teal shirt - ironically, covering the tiny bulge.

She resumed ringing in my purchases. Her words had impacted my heart and I wanted to reach out and hold the new little momma-to-be, close to my heart. Like some mad-hatter marketer I started spitting out the details of the Zeal for Teal crop.

"Are you a scrapbooker?" I asked.
"No, but maybe I could try."

I promptly promised that the next time I was in the store I would bring in our flyer and information about our special day. We chatted for a few more minutes about her pregnancy and how she had been feeling. She was a little girl who needed her momma and ovarian cancer had stolen that from her. She was nine when her mother died. Her mother was 38. Wrong, wrong, wrong...cancer cares not for whom it afflicts. 38? A mother? Far too young for life to be snatched and to leave a little girl motherless. A little girl who was now having her own precious little one.

God...when I get to heaven, will I know why? I sometimes think I know why. Then I see Crystal and once again, I don't understand.

Maybe I will go back to the store and ask her if she needs me to be her Mom...

Turning Up the Volume with Zeal for Teal

2011-01-31T23:46:00.000-05:00

Get ready for a blast from the past! Zeal for Teal 2011 - our third annual Ovarian Cancer Canada fundraiser is coming to town April 30th, 2011 and our theme is "The 50's"

We are looking forward to a great crowd and I know we will have a 'rockin' good time!'

The Drayton Arena will be alive with scrapbookers and cardmakers as we gather together to help raise awareness about ovarian cancer and to do our part to help raise funds for Ovarian Cancer Canada.

I am a speaker for Ovarian Cancer Canada and when I get talking to women of all ages, I am always amazed to discover how little is known about this disease that is often dubbed the silent killer (I was one of those women who knew little!) I am still considered to be in remission and am being a good girl attending the cancer clinic appointments and following protocol. I make my next appearance at the London Cancer Clinic in March.

I am thankful for every sunrise and every breath these days and am immeasurably thankful for those who have supported me in a million ways over the past two and a half years since my diagnosis.

Zeal for Teal is the highlight of my year and Amanda - the original founder and incredibly talented and organized big cheese - and I, along with our trusty team (Rosemary, Darlene and Amber) are really excited this year about what is going to take place. We had an early bird registration and 50 people took advantage of it. We are head over heels happy with this initial response.

We do have to put a limit on registrations this year because of how we want to set up the hall. We need a spot for our soda shop, after all! So the first 100 people to register get to spend a fantastic day in their bobby socks and poodle skirts...okay whatever is comfy...scrapping away to their heart's content and being entertained with everything from endless door prizes to hula hoop & bubble gum blowing contests, a silent auction, a delicious diner dinner, snacks, games, goody bags and much more.

Again we are inviting anyone who wants to visit and browse our Vendor's Alley, to pop in anytime during the day. For $5 visitors can enjoy a cup of coffee or tea and a muffin and fruit. They are welcome to join in on our silent auction and check out the Ovarian Cancer Canada [OCC] table, too. The whole $5 will go to OCC.

In Vendor's Alley, so far this year our companies include Stampin Up; Close To My Heart; First Choice Trophies and Scrapbooking; In A Scrap Creations and my book table.

Zeal for Teal 2011 actually coincides [wonderfully] with the release of Hot Apple Cider 2 - a book that contains a story about my cancer journey - along with some other incredibly stirring stories written by other Canadian authors. I will be selling copies of HAC2 and $5 from the sale of every book will go directly to Ovarian Cancer Canada (OCC).

There is so much to do and the planning keeps us busy. But what a privilege to be able to be here and to partake of the excitement. I pray for my OC sisters. I pray that the volume can be turned up and that early detection will be the name of the game for more and more women. I am honoured to be part of Zeal for Teal 2011. Would you care to join us?

To check out the details of the day and to keep up with the latest news, check out the Sunflower Seeds blog at http://www.zealforteal.blogspot.com/ .

Sleepy Town Express (Soon, please)

2011-01-12T01:05:00.000-05:00

Maybe if I try singing myself to sleep... How about TV - What not to Wear reruns, maybe? Reading? Hot chocolate? Nothing seems to be working tonight. It's getting on for 1am and I am wide awake. I am convinced that chemotherapy did away with some sleep receptors in my noggin'. Pre-cancer, I used to require at least 8 hours sleep and nodding off on cue was an easy thing to do. It's been two years and a few months since the bittersweet poison coursed through my veins. One would think that by now the body would have returned to normal. But I am convinced that my body has a new state of normal. My new normal now consists of interrupted sleep (or total lack of...) periods of unexplained dementia, fatigue at the most inappropriate times, achy breaky body parts - fractured wrist included.

So what's a gal to do? I can't go into the bedroom again and disturb my dearly beloved, peacefully snoring/sleeping hubby again. I did that once when I crept in to get my pjs. The recliner chair doesn't look as inviting as our cozy bed, but at least I won't wake him. Why should both of us have a 'bad' night?

I've dug the pillow and covers out from the blanket box.

So bring on the sheep...1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...5,648...5,649...5650...Sigh...Night, night...trying again...5,651...5652...5653...

Drama Queen Debut 2011

2011-01-02T21:58:00.003-05:00

So I took my first step into 2011 and lo and behold yours truly ended up on her derriere! It wasn't supposed to be like that. My new year was supposed to be a fresh start and one filled with getting things done.' Instead of starting off in high speed, my 2011 debut has now begun with two speeds - dead slow and stop!

I had chosen to go the so-called healthier route and had decided to walk to church this morning. Happy Hubby has some not so nice issues with sciatica so I did not make a fuss when he opted for the truck. I beamed a little thinking about one of my secret resolutions. Yep my plan was to walk a little more and eat a little less. Such are the best laid plans of cats and women, huh?

There I lay. My first concern was who was looking out their window as I did my triple lutz (klutz) and fell on my tush. Funny how the vanity thing hits me first.

My dearly beloved had spotted my dramatic performance in his rear view mirror, so I waited all fours in the air, until he reversed and ventured forth to rescue me.

In a nutshell, I told my rescuer that he should go to church
because I was fine. No sooner had he departed, albeit a little reluctantly, my wrist ballooned and the pain was a nine on the richter scale.

'Twas then I decided to head to the local emergency department for a makeover. I drove my trusty steed one-handed.
Since it was Sunday, they had to call in the X-ray tech from church. She came. She saw. She took some less than flattering shots. If it is remotely possible for me to keep a long tale short, I needed an elbow to finger cast. Sigh. Hopefully this no indication of how the rest of 2011 will transpire.

I suppose I could moan and groan about the present state of affairs but, instead, I have decided to think positively and look on the bright side even though we got off to a bit of a crazy ride:

1. I am right handed. It's my left hand that bore the brunt of my less than graceful antics

2. It was my wrist and not my noggin' that I injured

3. No one seemed to see my gymnastic attempt at recovery

4. My neighbour who happened to be backing out of his garage didn't run over me

5. I couldn't make lunch or supper

6. I couldn't make the bed

7. I couldn't do the dishes

8. I realized how important appendages and digits are!
Sigh...

Fairness and God?

2010-12-30T02:15:00.000-05:00

Today I read an article and had trouble even getting my mind around the title, let alone the content.

"Girl, 4, battles rare ovarian cancer"

A combination of sadness and encouragement filled my heart as I gazed upon the impish grin of this precious little angel. Check out her story, here, if you like:

www.heraldsun.com.au/.../story-e6frf7kx-1225978302989

As I read through the story, I wondered about the fairness of it all. I thought upon the perfect world that God created then I remembered how it is no longer perfect and we have no one else to blame but ourselves. Instead of the harmony and the peace that God intended when He said 'it was good,' humankind has opted for greed and discontentment. How foolish we are. Thank goodness God loves us anyway, and wants us to love Him back. When I look into the eyes of this little angel, I am encouraged and I see Jesus.

I am 54 so for me to get Ovarian Cancer is one thing. But a mere whisp of a child at 4 years of age, just doesn't seem right. But, the control is in His hands and I believe things happen for a reason. I don't have answers but I do have faith. My faith is resting in Him and hoping and praying that God will heal this little girl and through it all He will be glorified.

Jesus loves the little children; all the children of the world!

Storytelling at it's Finest

2010-12-16T00:29:00.000-05:00

Isn't this the sweetest rendition of the story of Jonah ever? What a story teller.

2010-11-24T23:23:00.000-05:00

We were a bit of a motley crew, but we worked together like a well-oiled machine. The boys (and Lisa) hit the trails and the mountain pathways and helped make more than one person happy last week.

There were foundations to be laid and cupboards to be made. A deck was needed and a fence had to be replaced. By the end of the week, more than a few mountain boys and girls were grinning from ear to ear thanks to the grit and dogged determination of our strong and willing men (and Lisa!)

Meanwhile, I had the privilege of accompanying the other four gals to the distribution centre in town. What an eye opener. We worked at the foodbank distributing food and performing a myriad of tasks - the greatest benefit being our interaction with the locals. What an experience. What an amazing and hugely necessary ministry. After experiencing the many stories and witnessing the abject poverty that still prevails in the belly of the oft-termed affluent USA, I vowed to never complain about being hungry again. Nor would I moan and groan about having nothing to wear. I am also slightly guilt-ridden as I returned home to a new dwelling. Folks in Neon, Kentucky were over the hill grateful to have a trailer home or a simple roof over their heads. There was such a contrast in lifestyle, culture and the socio-economic deprivation was obvious.

As I took photographs of the East Letcher Ministry I made special note of the table outside the former grocery store. Piles of faded, thrice-worn clothing adorned two long tables on the sidewalk. Apparently these articles of clothing are available 24/7 to anyone in need. There is a sign asking people to be careful that items are not tossed haphazardly on the ground. I was informed that people who are too shy or embarassed to come during the day will come at all hours to sort through and take needed items of clothing.

I am ashamed to say that I have laughed at jokes about mountain people and their hillbillly ways, but to experience it first hand last week caused me to think. I also saw first hand the dirty little secret that remains virtually hidden, tucked away in this little mining community in the Appalacians - that wretched and seemingly never ending cycle of poverty.

But I was also so blessed to encounter some beautiful, faith-filled people on their own territory. Many just seemed to need someone to listen to their stories and to care about them, even if for a fleeting moment.

One girl, in particular, who came to the foodbank broke my heart. She was twenty years old. I asked her how she was. That was to be the segue to her story. Her divorce was just being finalized and she had a toddler at home who was not bearing up too well. She was on kidney dialysis and she was also just recently diagnosed with cervical cancer and possibly ovarian cancer. Because she has limited income and no benefits, she was unable to pay for her dialysis or chemotherapy which was scheduled to begin in a short while. She did say she might get a little help from Medicare but it was limited. I didn't know what to do for her. So I let her talk.

We cried together. Another gal who was with me shared in the conversation and the tears. I was wearing my survivor pin under my sweater (I wondered that morning why I felt led to wear it) so I gave it to the young mom. I told her I would pray and hope. She said her faith was strong and she relied on God each day. Then then this brave, young soul thanked us for listening and disappeared with her few bags of groceries as quickly as she appeared.

I can't get her out of my mind...

Kentucky Bound!

2010-11-13T09:05:00.000-05:00

I'm off to Neon, Kentucky with our church this week to help at the missions!

I'm sure I'll be back with many stories to share, many tears to shed and many thankful prayers to be said!

Blessings, Glynis

Why (Canadian Authored) Books Make Great Christmas Gifts

2010-11-09T20:15:00.000-05:00

There's a few practical reasons why a book makes the perfect present.

1. It is easy to wrap

2. If you buy more than one, they stack nicely under the tree.

3. You don't have to buy batteries for a book

4. You don't have to plug a book in.

5. For under $25 you can travel around the world - or anywhere else you choose

Neil Gaiman, comic writer and novelist, when asked why books make great gifts said, " Books make great gifts because they have whole worlds inside them, and it's much cheaper to buy somebody a book than it is to buy them the whole world!"

That is so true. Walk into a bookstore - Christian or otherwise - and look around. Spell-binding journeys and exhilarating adventures abound. Prepare to be whisked off with reckless abandon to faraway lands and exotic locations. Journey back in time to the days of Jesus or travel to the future and experience life in a different galaxy, planet or realm. Tread on pathways where the noble and valiant stood sword to sword or step inside the palace and mingle with the courtiers and vie for the favour of the king.

A book can take a person to a place of hope, unveil the unknown and offer comfort and direction, love and support. What better way to escape the tyranny of the urgent than to tuck yourself in your favourite chair and nestle in with a novel? Sign me up!

Probably one of my favourite parts of the book store is the children's section. I love children's books. And I love reading to children. To me, there is nothing more rewarding than seeing a child rapt as I relay the perils of the porcupine or the emotional roller coaster of Wilbur and Charlotte. Books for children make great gifts that last. I had a poster on my wall once that said, "Reading is like a young pup - it grows with you." Give a child a book and you give them an opportunity to grow in wisdom and imagination.

And why buy Canadian, you ask? Why wouldn't you? There are so many talented Canadian Authors. It is always a good idea to discover and support our own! From far and wide, O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Making Sense

2010-11-01T06:49:00.000-04:00

When I was going through my chemotherapy I remember feeling so alone sometimes. Oh people were kind and sweet of tongue. Many of my friends and family found ways to cheer me and help out and for that I was so grateful and humbled. Accepting help was a biggie for this independent soul. So I learned much over the year.

But there were always moments of isolation and confusion. I suppose I was still trying to make sense of what was happening and why. I was not angry with God but my soul stirred with a million questions.

One of the best ways that I found solace, next to prayer, was when I went online and found my OC and other cancer friends. When I started blogging about my journey, it became apparent that I was not alone. Soon I had found sisters in Australia, US and in England as well as getting linked up with gals all over Canada. It's true about there being comfort in numbers. In my distraction I soon found myself grateful.

In the beginning when a body receives that hideous diagnosis of cancer, there is always that feeling of impending doom and life is cruel. But the more I spoke to others and the more I realized the fragility of life and how cancer shows no boundaries, the more thankful I became for every breath I took.

As I look back in my journal and read some of my sporadic poetry, I recall some of my emotion and then I look heavenward and give thanks for where I am today. My cancer may return, althought the powers that be tell me there is only a 20% chance. I never was much of a gambler, but I am leaning toward the 80% odds.

The following poem was written on June 30th, 2008, eleven days after my first chemotherapy treatment. In the prelude to the piece, I wrote about how I was waiting for my hair to fall out and how I had just joined an ovarian cancer support group online.

Embraceable me, reaching out
Sisters in the same canoe
Wishing we didn't have to meet
But - a necessary evil
Guilded in teal;
"A badge of honour," she said.
Wear it with dignity...
Holding chin in direct proportion to attitude
Defying the odds.

Hot Flashes and the Holy Spirit

2010-10-24T21:54:00.000-04:00

When I first started going through chemo I wasn't sure if I was flushing or flashing. My surgery had very cruelly shoved me into early menopause so I was warned that my body would be in a state of flux.
Anyone who might be a little iffy with an accurate definition of flux - be it known that it includes various stages of mental instability, uncontrollable _________ (pick an emotion and fill in the blank) and horrible weight gain.

I was told that some of the carboplatin/taxol [bittersweet] poison that dripped into my body for six months had some interesting side effects, too - one of them being flushing.

My saint of a husband very wisely bought me a robotic like fan complete with a remote control and situated the blessed piece of whirling gadgetry next to my side of the bed. He dared not touch the remote but did get himself an extra quilt for his side.

Some days were agony. Most nights were. Between bedding being tossed and the fan running full blast throughout the wee hours of the morning, I started to feel grateful that all my hair had fallen out.

Two years later, here I am. My hair is back. Chemotherapy is over and the flushing has ceased. However, the hot flashes remain. Thanks be to the good Lord, that they are not as barbarically unbearable as they used to be and mostly they happen when the sun goes down. My fan is still strategically placed at my bedside, however, and in the two years we have owned it, there are no male fingerprints on my remote. It stays at the ready on my bedside table.

Oddly, today, I was sitting in church contemplating my life and rejoicing in all that was good. As I did so, I felt a surge. I was a little confused. Then it hit. Usually reserved for the nocturnal moments, the hot flash began to flow through my body. It somehow did not seem fair. Here I was praying, rejoicing, giving thanks and appreciating God and what He has done in my life.

As beads of sweat formed on my hairy noggin' it hit me. I wasn't having a hot flash. I was being washed; cleansed and moved. The Holy Spirit was getting my attention. That was it. At least that's what I'm saying from now on.

So here's my story (and I'm sticking to it.) I've decided that instead of dreading and whining and complaining about spontaneous hot waves wreaking havoc on my unsuspecting body, I’m going to use them as a reminder. No more will I waste a hot flash. I pledge to remember that I have a Comforter, a Source of hope, and a Reason to be happy.

In the future, as I experience my hot moments, I will (try my best) to see these as a (gulp) gift from God. Hey…some people need a wake up call with a two by four. If a hot flash works for me…(but I’m not giving up my remote.)

Dales Tales

2010-10-17T15:51:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time there was a determined young lass. Dale is her name. Promoting a zest for life and a desire to help her fellow man (woman) is her focus. I'm not sure how long Miss Dale has been doing these breast cancer luncheons in Drayton - I'm thinking 4 years. but they are certainly a big success. Theresa Scholten, another doggedly determined soul, is Dale's right hand man (woman) and she handles the registration table single handedly. And a fine job she does! I would be going cuckoo trying to keep everything straight.
Although I had ovarian cancer, not breast cancer, the gals asked me to be in the 'survivor' picture, too. I was honoured to do so. I'm the one sitting on Dale's knee! Theresa is 2nd from the right. There's 11 of us here, counting blessings and enjoying the moment. Linda is missing. Linda is a trooper. She made it to the luncheon but had to head out a little early. It was a good day, had by all. Special thanks to Dale for the super job she did as an MC. The food was great. The fellowship was fine. And the money raised for cancer research gives hope to many.

2010-10-12T18:51:00.000-04:00

Ode to a Rose

2010-09-28T15:19:00.000-04:00

(PHOTO: Rosemary with her grandbabies - one missing!)

Rosemary, my older sister, has been a gem. She moved closer to me about a month ago and it has been a blessing magnified that she arrived on the scene just in time. With building a new home, chaos has subtly inserted itself into my life. Routine has disappeared off the radar and I am lost in the clutter and the drywall dust (that's what we get for moving into a nest before all the twigs and the mud are in place!)

Rosemary donned her cape at precisely the right moment and she was able to step in and help me with a plethora of things including sharing and caring for our 84 year old poppa bear!

So to Rosemary I offer these multicoloured roses for these reasons:

1. Pink roses mean thank you. Thank you, Rosemary for helping us lug heavy crates of books upstairs; for carrying umpteen boxes and loading them in an amazing compact way; for uprooting, transporting and replanting precious perennials and little trees, and for doing a million other hands on tasks before, during and after our move.

2. Orange Roses represent your enthusiasm to jump in and do whatever - whenever - yes, even my laundry for three weeks before we got our trusty machines tumbling and tossing again.

3. Red Roses symbolize your sincere, unconditional love and respect for family. I was thrilled you could be there for Dad when I was on the verge of insanity. Thanks for whipping up meals and keeping Dad happy and busy. The fish pond you made is amazing. Dad is loving the backyard sanctuary you have created. I wish I had half your talent and ability. Yup...you might have been called an 'intellectual butterfly' when you were younger but your flitting and creativity has brought beauty to Dad's backyard.

4. Red & White Roses together signify unity. Thanks for being a partner, a pal and for making the decision to move closer. After all these years, it's good to spend time with you and realize heart stuff! United we stand; divided we trip and fall in the mud.

5. Yellow Roses indicate joy, gladness, friendship and "I Care." Thanks for being one of the first to ask how my appointment went at the cancer clinic last week and for rejoicing with me. I am so thankful and relieved that you, also, had the CA125 done a while ago and then you heard the word 'normal' somewhere in the medical chatter. Keep being aware!

I'm glad you are my friend.

Love one another with brotherly affection [as members of one family], giving precedence and showing honor to one another.

Romans 12:10

Que Sera, Sera!

2010-09-20T06:52:00.000-04:00

(Photo: Where's Waldo and company?)

We made it. God was good. The rain held off until shortly after noon and that was just about the time we were headed in the general direction of home!

Last Sunday Amanda, her kiddos and I took part in the Winner's Walk of Hope (Ovarian Cancer Canada) in Barrie, Ontario.

(Photo: There they are!)

It was a good time for it to happen, for this past Thursday I had an appointment at the London Cancer Clinic and I wanted to go there armed with a trunkload of hope.

Fresh from the walk, and with my shiny survivor pin in place, after an hour and a half wait, I entered the little examination room. After a brief chat with my primary nurse, I set my clothing and dignity aside, donned my usual lovely hospital gown and waited for the oncologist to arrive.

He did. It was worth the wait. He did his usual twenty questions and exam and then informed me that things look hopeful. I am pushing my two year mark now and said

, smart oncologist indicated that in his experience that there is now only a 15% chance that the

cancer could return. I never was one to put my money on lottery tickets or door prizes or bingo, or the like, for the odds of winning anything for yours truly were always slim. I am hoping that the odds of fitting into that 15% margin are just as slim.

When I was little, my sisters used to call me Doris Day and teased me that my theme song was 'Que Sera, Sera.' Loosely translated, that means, 'Whatever will be, will be..."

Now that I have grown up and have faced a trial or two, I am seeing the God-wisdom in that song.

"...whatever will be, will be; the future's not ours to see, que sera, sera!"

Some things I seemingly have control of in my life. But the big things I leave up to God. I am thrilled, thankful and humbled that He has blessed me with a good prognosis, an incredible family and a peace that passeth all understanding. This is a new week. A new chance to see His hand at work and a fresh start to realizing my blessings.

(Photo: Crossing the Finish Line at the 2010 Winners Walk of Hope)

We had so many people supporting us in so many ways as we made our trek around the lakeshore in Barrie September 12th, 2010, at the Winners Walk of Hope. Thank you to all who sponsored us financially, prayerfully and with unconditional love. We were blessed.

Winners Walk of Hope 2010

2010-09-02T22:34:00.000-04:00

Two years ago, as I faced six months of rigorous chemotherapy for ovarian cancer, I truly thought that God was readying me for a new heavenly home. It wasn’t that I was without hope back then. It was just that I suddenly realized that the only One who was in control was God. I trusted Him.

Once I recovered from realizing that my thorn in the flesh was to be cancer, I turned the reigns over to God. I really tried to be positive, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, my time was up and I was moving on. Many a night I poured my emotions into my handwritten journal. Tears welled and I struggled with lesson after lesson from God.

Twenty four months later, here I am. They call it remission. I have to hang in there for another three years and then they will call me a survivor and maybe even cured. In a couple of weeks I head back to the London Cancer Clinic to find out what the docs think. I'm thinking positive.

God has a plan. I may not understand that plan, but safe to say, I don’t realize the big picture, either. This is where faith steps in and I choose to follow.

I am moving on. I will one day look forward to a heavenly home, but meanwhile, God has blessed me mightily as Gilles and I are in the throes of building our new earthly home in downtown Drayton.
It’s funny how life happens. Some days are diamonds. Some days are coal.

Right now my life is full. The diamonds shimmer and shine in my life and for that I am grateful.

On September 12th, Amanda, Trenton, Jocelyn and I are once again making our annual trek to Barrie to participate in the Winners Walk of Hope put on by Ovarian Cancer Canada. This is our special weekend away and we will join ranks with other ovarian cancer survivors and supporters. It is a bittersweet time as we do our part to fundraise and to help raise awareness so that ovarian cancer can be detected early and lives can be saved.

Ovarian Cancer is sometimes called the disease that whispers. We are going to do our best to help turn up the volume and help our sisters, mothers, daughters, granddaughters, grandmothers, aunts, nieces, cousins, friends and for all those amazing women we are yet to meet and even those we will never see face to face! We journey on with love and hope in our hearts.

(Photo: Our fearless leaders and encouragers at the Barrie Winners Walk of Hope!)

Too Bee or Not to Bee

2010-08-11T23:03:00.000-04:00

It was an innocent hand offered. My 84 year old father had managed to get to the back of his property and there he stood, cane in one hand steadying himself and the saw in the other cutting away at the fence post, trying to create a space for another birdhouse.

As any bossy daughter would do, I gave him the talk about being careful and not hurting himself It didn't make a lick of difference that Dad had single handedly installed the other six or seven birdhouses.

I assured Poppa Bear that I could easily slide the saw back and forth and knock the top of the fence post, making it an ideal location for the little wooden birdhouse. He agreed and relinquished his toothed tool. I started cutting away at the post.

Suddenly, as if on cue, a swarm of buzzing bees hightailed it out of one of the birdhouses already in place, and went into attack mode. I was the target. My arms flailed and the saw went flying. Luckily Dad had started to move away when I took over the task. The saw missed him. A few angry buzzers alighted and headed his way, but his safari hat afforded him the protection he needed. I wasn't quite as lucky. The nasty little critters would show me no mercy. How dare I interrupt their homestead and shake up the neighbourhood with that incessant sawing? I was surrounded. As what seemed like fifty angry bees, buzzing maniacally around my face, I swatted and screamed and must have looked like a psychotic karate dropout. Those determined stingers got me on the neck, under my arm and on my lip. Then they were gone. Just like that. I stood there wondering how long it would be before I might go into anaphylatic shock. Stupid things, like did my chemotherapy lower my resistance and now am I doomed to die from a mere bee sting or two? entered my noggin. How long would it take for me to keel over anyway?

Minutes passed. Nothing happened, other than localized throbbing. I dashed inside and doused my wounds with vinegar. Nasty bees.

A short while later, fat lip and all, I went outside to face my attackers and to figure out what to do with the half-sawn fance post.

There was Dad, cane in hand, blowing the dust off his saw. I really should have minded my own business...

Becky Hubbert Tribute

2010-07-29T07:32:00.000-04:00

dbriscoeful July 23, 2010
Becky Hubbert passed away July 19th form Ovarian Cancer, this video is a tribute to her which is/was to be played at her funeral. Although it is edited from the original being played at her funeral, I hope it still captures who she was - a beautiful person who was an exceptional friend, aunt, daughter, sister, mother and wife. She will be missed by all...

Today

2010-07-20T23:04:00.000-04:00

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

Today, I went to my mother's graveside with my father, my older sister, my younger sister, my younger brother, my daughter, my two grandchildren, my niece and my great niece. We spent some time in reflection. We remembered Mom three years ago to the day as she bravely smiled and peacefully stepped over the threshold to the Great Beyond and went to be with Jesus.

It was a good day. It was a sad day.

The sun shone down on us as Dad sat in the folding chair and the rest of us stood and sat on the concrete around Mom's veteran's plot at Mount Pleasant Cemetery in London. We laughed. We cried. Dad read a poem. I read Psalm 23 - the Lord is my Shepherd. My sisters shared special memories about the way things used to be. My brother remained quiet and pensive. My daughter and niece were the breath of fresh air and youthful exuberance as they chatted about children and life in general. The children played. Mom would have liked that. She loved family gatherings and she especially loved the little ones.

One of Mom's last request was that we remain strong as a family and that we looked after one another. It became clear to me today that that has happened. My family may be a bit of a motley crew, but our core is solid and secure and the family ties that bound, still bind us. I miss my Mom terribly and am reduced to a little girl each time I try to think of her, but I am thankful for the legacy she left behind. She taught us to laugh and to be strong. She taught us to cope and to laugh some more. She equipped us with a love for adventure and a boldness to dare. She taught me to pray when I was a little girl.

May four good angels guard my bed...

two at the foot...

two at the head.

And keep me safe all through the night...

until I see the morning light...

Thank you God...

Amen.

Good night Mom...Rest well - may four good angels be guarding your bed. xx

Fretting Forgetting

2010-07-15T20:25:00.000-04:00

Of all the things I miss,

I think I miss my mind the most.

Have I said that before? Probably. Humour me. Chemo brain on the loose again...

Such silly little things. Such a big ego. Today I was running an errand or two for my dear 84 year old poppa' bear.

Dad...if you are reading this, do turn away. Go check the latest family shenanigans on Facebook.

For the rest of you, I guess I am looking for a bit of sympathy...empathy...pity...maybe.

Dad had called me earlier and asked me to pick up a gift certificate from the local bistro and take it over to his friend's place. It was a nice birthday gift. It was a nice gesture. Now if I could have only found a nice way to tell him I forgot to stop and pick it up, then it wouldn't have been so bad.

I arrived at Dad's and lo and behold, I looked him in the eye and suddenly became aware that I had neglected to do the task. Panic took over and I immediately dashed out to fulfill my duty. I left Dad in a whir and uttered something about being right back. I think he is getting used to my fretful forgetful moments.

The lovely gal in the restaurant, chatted away to me and I nodded and smiled. She nicely prepared the certificate. I thanked her and dashed out the door reminding myself not to toss the gift card into the depths of my delightfully lovely oversize, teal carry on bag.

I got to my car, pressed my keyless lock on my keychain. Nothing. I pressed it again. Still nothing. I noticed the time and looked around the parking lot for anyone who might be staring at a full grown middle aged nitwit talking to her key chain.

I tried the driver's side door, just incase it was already open and I didn't hear the familiar 'click.'

Wouldn't open. I went around the other side and did the same. Panic and confusion filled any available recesses of sanity and I wondered what to do next. Then a trickle of hope tickled my inner child as I remembered that there was a telephone number on my rear window. I would call and they would pop my locks.

Suddenly I had a burst of sanity and my inner child whispered, "You dope...try the key in the lock first."

I fiddled with my keys and found the one that should have opened the door. I fiddled and tried the seven or eight keys on my chain. What was going on? None fit. I looked inside the car, and to my chagrin...I didn't recognize the tidy inners. The folded blanket. The dangling chain. I saw the neatly placed items in the little cup holders and realized that I'd just been trying to break into someone else's car.

I talked to my keychain once again and glanced around the parking lot. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone who might have spotted the strange lady trying to break into the car at the downtown restaurant.

Three cars over I spotted it. Another car just like mine with all the lights on, doors unlocked, the trunk ajar. It really was mine this time. I sheepishly meandered over, closed the trunk, slid into the driver's seat and buckled up. :)

I'm really hoping no one got me on video...small towns are great but I really don't want it to be official that I am going slightly cuckoo (yet.) Sigh.

Real Zeal for Teal

2010-06-28T04:45:00.000-04:00

Well, we made it! As far as I can tell, and from a quick scan of the evaluation forms, a good time was had by all.

Saturday may have been a bit gloomy with a weather pleasing only to ducks, but the sun was certainly shining inside the Drayton Arena at our 2nd annual Zeal for Teal - A Day at the Beach.

[PHOTO: The Sunflower Seeds Committee 2010; Zeal for Teal]

This Ovarian Cancer Canada (OCC) Winner's Walk of Hope fundraiser welcomed around 40 eager scrappers and vendors alike.

Not only did we raise some funds for OCC and hopefully helped raise a little awareness about ovarian cancer too, we had a blast. A roomful of happy women, sharing in a relaxing day, good food and some great shopping experiences - how lovely is that once in a while?

Jan, one of the gals who hails from Burlington, made me a precious little gift...a card that reads the following:

[PHOTO: Jan & Lee sharing their talents!]

What Cancer Cannot Do

Cancer is so limited...

It cannot cripple love.

It cannot shatter hope.

It cannot corrode faith.

It cannot eat away peace.

It cannot destroy confidence.

It cannot kill friendship.

It cannot shut out memories.

It cannot silence courage.

It cannot reduce eternal life.

It cannot quench the Spirit.

*************************

When I was going through my chemo, my sweet long distance Florida friend sent me a plaque with this poem inscribed upon it. I remember the timing. That morning, when I opened up my package, I cried my eyes out. It was a good cry, though, and just what I needed at the time. Reassurance that all will be well was the order of the day. God knew what I needed that day.

When Jan handed me the gorgeous, handcrafted easel card on Saturday the timing was once again right. Her thoughtful gift made me stop, inhale, and think about my blessings and also my OC sisters everywhere.

How blessed am I as I read through the Canadian statistics - 2500 women are diagnosed each year; 1700 women die from ovarian cancer each year?

But the good news is, if ovarian cancer is detected early, there is a 90% chance of survival! I'm hoping I can stand up and be counted in that number!

Meanwhile we will keep doing what we do.

Special thanks to all who attended our 2nd Annual Zeal for Teal. You completed our day.

You are the best!

The Silver Mirror

2010-06-17T23:05:00.000-04:00

Her tresses tickled her forehead as she gazed into the silver hand held mirror. Her mother had told her she could have that silver dressing table set when she died. How she treasured it.

The tarnished covering begged to be clean once again and it really was on her list of things to do. But she had been too busy, as usual. And it simply had not been a priority.

She would have given it back in a moment, though, if only she could feel the loving arms of her sweet mother once more.

It was a fleeting, childlike thought, but the woman wondered what might happen if she rubbed her mirror with silver polish. As she did, she remembered the story of Aladdin and his lamp. She remembered reading how when he rubbed his silver lamp, the genie appeared and Aladdin's wishes were granted.

What would she wish if it were so? Aladdin was granted three. Dare she desire the same? For what would she ask if she was granted three, too?

Crystal tears glimmered in her eyes has she contemplated.

As she held the mirror, she slowly turned it. A vision of what had once been, flashed across the hand held silver piece. Her life, played out, before her as she desperately tried to drop it. Her heart pounded. Her chest felt as if it would burst. Her knuckles, white, clenched the handle of the mirror and stuck like strong glue. She wanted to drop the mirror and run. She wanted to deny the vision; to pretend it wasn't so.

The mirror grew large and murky. The filth that had been her life exuded forth. The bad choices. The stupid words. The thoughtless deeds. It was all there, reflecting a life that was a shambles, a waste, a desecration.

She tried to look away in abject desperation. What was causing the palpitations and the sinking, sickening, churning feeling in the pit of her stomach?

She tried to shake the silver mirror that burned her clenched fist. She wanted to run and hurl the wretched silver mirror. But her grip tightened. A fire raged and now she could not even turn her eyes from the vision. In her desperation she sought for words. Her mind reeled.

Silence.

Two wishes dropped desperately from her dry, cracked lips.

I wish I had not hurt You

I wish I could make it up to You

Just as she was about to buckle and fall, her grip loosened on the silver mirror. Her knuckles relaxed and her once shallow, panicked breath sounds became more rhythmic and quieter.

She looked at the mirror once again. Her eyes, drawn to the vision, widened at the sight.

A faraway cross. She looked closer. A solitary oaken tree with a crossbar. Then a man. His brilliant garment was whiter than what she could ever have imagined. She watched Him kneel to gather the remnants of her life. She watched Him breathe over the seething coals.

"Forgiven," He whispered.

She turned her head from the silver mirror. She was back. She was free.

Once again she looked in the mirror. This time, she saw her reflection as it was. The few creases on her forehead made her smile. The terror that cursed through her veins - obliterated and non-existent.

As she stroked the glass, she thought she saw her mother; smiling, sitting next to Him. Oh how she longed to be with her. She peered closer. She knew, then, what her final wish would be...

Relay for Life

2010-06-07T22:02:00.000-04:00

Rest and Tickling Time with Momma bear and her jolly little cubs at Relay for Life.

Two year old Jocelyn walked 440yards around the track in her little pink sleepers! Now that's the tenacity of a two year old!

Four year old Trenton rode around the track 5 times on his mighty red bicycle with training wheels. What a trooper!

Grandma and Jocelyn jogging around the track (sort of.) The only way to travel!

One of the nicest lions I have ever met and Erin, the organizer, welcome the troops!

RELAY FOR LIFE - June 4, 2010

ST. JAMES HIGH SCHOOL, GUELPH, ONTARIO

Never underestimate the enthusiasm and amazing joy and determination of our youth! My darling daughter, Amanda, and my sweet grandbabies trekked out last Friday evening and joined the sterling student body at St. James Catholic High School in Guelph at their very first Relay for Life. It was a grand evening. I have sent a message to St. James High School Principal expressing my sincere gratitude and for inviting me to be part of their first Relay for Life sponsored by the Canadian Cancer Society.

****************************

"Dear Principal Ingram:

You should be proud to be the principal of St.James Catholic High School. I certainly was proud for you and your entire student body who attended your first (hopefully annual) Relay for Life last Friday evening. I was honoured to have been invited to participate as a one and a half year cancer survivor.

Too often we hear about all the negative behaviour and poor choices of youth in society but I want to stand on your St.James rooftop and tell everyone how great young people are, especially those St. James cast and crew who I had the privilege of meeting last Friday. My daughter, grandson and granddaughter accompanied me that evening and we were thrilled to be in the company of such charming, fun-filled, purpose driven students.

Right off the top, I was hugged by the sweet Miss Angela McCleod who willingly shared cake, juice and then her incredible story that made me cry. I tapped into her enthusiasm and energy right away and being slightly over half a century myself, that was no easy task. But I managed to make it 9 times non-stop around the track, intent on first giving thanks that I had regained enough strength to make it. Then my daughter and I, along with our trusty tots in tow, walked for Uncle Don who we buried just last Thursday from lung and liver cancer. Then we walked for Aunt Pauline who is in hospital in Toronto and slowly dying from breast cancer as we speak. Then there was Doc Mott and Cindy and Daria, and Judy and Karen and far too many more who are still fighting the good fight.

Hats off, to the organizers, Erin and Derek. I am sure there were many others involved, but those are the names I remember. The beautiful singers were amazing and when the words Allelujah echoed across the busy track as we walked, I could do nothing but sing along, raise my hands and give thanks for everyone of the wonderful kids who surrounded me. From superman and Spiderman flying by and decked out in all their finery, to the friendliest lion I have ever met (thanks for removing your head for a moment to appease Jocelyn and Trenton!) I was moved in more ways than you can imagine.

So, I hope the Relay for Life was considered a success. It surely was in my heart and soul. My daughter was equally moved and as she has been my stalwart 'rock' throughout my journey, I was overjoyed that she and my grandbabies accompanied me to St.James last week.

I am including a few photographs. Every young person had a smile or a word of encouragement. One sweet gal even asked me to sign her shirt. How humbling is that? Bless you all. My prayers are that each one of your students make good choices and make a mark in this world. Whoever I saw or met last Friday sure made a mark on my heart. Thanks for the memories. And special thanks to Simone Roesink who invited me to be part of this special event. Joy!

Kind Regards, Glynis Belec a (very thankful) ovarian cancer survivor from Drayton, Ontario!

********************************

They Say...

2010-06-01T07:29:00.000-04:00

This poem (from my mother's poetry collection) is dedicated to Uncle Don who passed away this past Saturday from cancer. He was 57 years old.

I hope he is strumming his guitar quietly at the feet of Jesus right now.
They say you will not come again,

But I can always here.

Your voice in silence and in song

And feel you ever near.

They say that you have passed beyond

Unto the land of supreme

But I can always call you back

Into the land of dream

For death is but a gateway

To the great reality

A new beginning and an end

Of Human Destiny

Love is all and life goes on

In spite of grief and pain

But deep within my heart I know

That we shall meet again...

If I Only Had a Brain

2010-05-29T07:19:00.000-04:00

I should be flogged for delinquency. Time sure has a way of marching on and leaving me behind lately. I miss a lot of things but mostly I miss my mind! I keep wondering if my memory cells post chemo will ever regenerate.

For the most part I am fine and my energy level is amazingly improved - for that I am grateful. Yet I keep on forgetting. Thank goodness, so far nothing has been life threatening and it's usually silly things like car key misplacement; pieces of paper with important information; bills; forgetting why I went downstairs and having to go through the painful ritual of retracing my steps. As far as my teaching, I still think I am on the ball, and so far, none of my students have said anything...except maybe poor Leanne, who was not impressed that I forgot to get her birthday present ready! Thank goodness she still loves me.

I really have not forgotten to write here, though. It is high on my list of things to do; yet the days whiz by and somehow, it has been shoved to the back burner. Determined to make amends and get back on track, I am going to challenge myself and get back into the routine of sharing and spouting.

I am going to force myself to write a blog a day starting...um...today. I have to be the world's worst procrastinator, so this is going to be tough. Okay...on your mark...get set...go!

Zeal for Teal Fever - Just Incase...

2010-05-19T08:57:00.000-04:00

Just incase you are looking for a ripping good time on June 26th.

Just incase you love to scrapbook and make cards.

Just incase you want to have a day at the beach - but not really because you don't like the itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bathing suits.

Just incase you want to make a difference and are passionate about supporting a cause that is near and dear to my heart (and my former ovaries)

And just incase you want to enjoy a little 'me time' away from routine for a few hours.

Then...have we got a treat for you!

COME ON DOWN

to Drayton, and join us at the arena for our Second Annual

Zeal for Teal fundraiser for Ovarian Cancer Canada's Winner's Walk of Hope.

Get ready for an amazing day of scrapbooking, cardmaking, merry making and more. And all for a good cause!

Registrations are coming in fast and furious, so don't delay we can hardly wait for you to get in touch!

The early bird registration expires June 1st, which entitles eager scrappers to receive two extra door prize tickets. We have so many lovely prizes coming in from generous donors, you will be impressed.

This year we have a Vendor's Alley including Epicure, Tupperware, Pampered Chef, Mia Bella's Candles, Canadian Writers Book store, Close to My Heart, Stampin' Up, Steeped Tea, In A Scrap Creations, Club 177 purses and jewelry and there will be an extensive display for Ovarian Cancer Canada and the Winner's Walk of Hope.

Our trusty and talented photographer, Anja Noordam, will return to capture some of our precious Zeal for Teal moments, so we are thrilled about that. Check out one of Anja's photos from last year (below!)

The theme for this year's Zeal for Teal is 'A Day at the Beach.' Dig out those flip flops and sundresses and get comfy. We anticipate a wonderful, relaxing day.

We also have our very own esthetician, Janet Wilson returning to offer complimentary mini manicures throughout the day, along with an onsite personal trainer who will keep us on our toes with the occasional fit break. Who knows, maybe we'll even find a pool to paddle in! We have it all. You don't want to miss it.

And the best part, is that your participation in this special day will help women everywhere. After expenses, all profits go to the Ovarian Cancer Canada Winner's Walk of Hope to be held September 12th in Barrie.

The Sunflower Seeds team is revving up and looking forward to doing their part to help women get diagnosed earlier and to help conquer and one day eradicate this disease often dubbed the silent killer, ovarian cancer. There is a 90% survival rate for women with ovarian cancer who are caught in the early stages. The statistics are a little more grim for those who have late stage ovarian cancer. That is why early detection is crucial!

So come on out and know that not only are you going to experience a fantastic day away from routine, but you are doing YOUR part to help women everywhere! If you want to find out more, or learn how to register, then ask! The more the merrier at our 'beach!'

[Photo by Anja Noordam ©
2009]

Grandmothers' Necklace Launch Success!

2010-05-02T20:49:00.000-04:00

A great day was had by all! Carolyn did most of the work. I was merely a happy helper and a ready reader! Carolyn Wilker is the little gal in the middle. Theodore Oisin, is the lovely blonde on the right and yours truly is pictured left, trying not to show too many teeth.

*********************

Actually, being part of the book launch, yesterday, in Kitchener, was a super experience. I met some lovely people and learned much about the Stephen Lewis Foundation and the Grandmothers to Grandmothers campaign.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, all the proceeds raised from Grandmothers' Necklace will go to assist grandmothers in sub-Saharan Africa who are raising their own grandchildren. Funds from the Stephen Lewis Foundation [SLF] help these quietly courageous women while they try to come to terms with their own children who have died from HIV/AIDS. I cannot even dare imagine what that would be like.

But what an honour it is, though, to be a small part of helping the SLF and to be a contributing writer in Grandmothers' Necklace.

The Omas Siskona pictured here, nicely decked out in their colourful tee shirts, were amazing. They prepared and served delicious squares, cookies, fruit, tea, coffee and more for everyone who attended the launch. One of the Omas did a bit of a presentation about who they were and what their mandate was. I was even more impressed. So many quiet souls on the battlefield. Sometimes it seems a crazy world that we live in, and then the goodness flows and we get a sample of the heart of others as they give without return and work without fanfare. Such a life lesson.

And then as if I had not sampled enough icing on the cake, I had just been introduced and was giving a bit of an introduction or segue before reading my story, when I got a wonderful surprise. My big sister was sitting on the sidelines grinning back at me! I almost lost my words when I saw her. I had not seen her in a while and had certainly no idea she was going to make an appearance, but she did. And I was glad. I quickly greeted her from the podium then regrouped and carried on! Like I said, a good day was had by all - especially me! Blessings!

Life is Like That

2010-04-20T19:36:00.000-04:00

Life has been ripping and tearing along at breakneck speed these days. Some nights I can't sleep. Some days I nod off when I am not supposed to. Other days I can't seem to get all my tasks done and thus I add another page to my to-do list.

Who's complaining, though? At least my energy level is improving and cancer does not always consume my thoughts. I've far too many other things on my mind now to concern myself with the 'what ifs!'

So it looks like we are going to (finally, finally, finally) build a house. God is so good and I know His timing is terrific. Rarely does it match ours, but over the past while we have learned that the best thing is to just wait upon the Lord. He never fails us.

All we need to do now is buy a lot and then my talented hubby can start the ball rolling because the clock sure is ticking. And if those aren't enough clichés to make your liver quiver, then just be warned that first and foremost, we are bound and determined to get this house ready by the end of August.

Of course there is always the camping option. Maybe I should be praying for a warm, dry summer!

Grandmothers' Necklace

2010-04-07T08:09:00.000-04:00

About a year ago, there was a call out for contributors for an anthology - Grandmothers' Necklace, the brainchild of Patricia Ann Elford, a teacher, pastor and member of the Petawawa Grannies.

I contributed a story and poem but still had not much of a clue who the Petawawa Grannies were, only that they were somehow connected to the Stephen Lewis Foundation (SLF).

I had heard tell of the SLF but I was still unsure about the organization. I quickly realized I had homework to do. So I checked out the website

http://www.stephenlewisfoundation.org/grandmothers.htm and learned and contemplated.

Soon I was in awe of what Granny groups across the country are doing for sub-Saharan African grandmothers. The many Grandmother groups across the country assist struggling grandmothers in Africa who have not only lost their own children to the pandemic of HIV/AIDS, but they face the rest of their lives wondering how to provide the basic necessities as they raise their grandchildren.

I jumped at the opportunity to submit a story. Maybe this was one tiny way that I could help. None of the anthology authors receive payment for their contribution. All profits from the sale of the book go to the SLF through the Petawawa Grannies. SLF is a registered charitable organization that funds grassroots efforts in sub-Saharan Africa to better the lives of the women and children there.

Grandmother’s Necklace, a collection of inspiring stories, is the outcome of Elford’s brainchild. It only took one meeting. When Elford heard the plight of grandmothers in Africa she immediatley went into action and decided to use her gifts and abilities as a writer to compile submitted stories into a book that would help raise funds for these quietly courageous grandmothers.

This remarkable anthology includes writings by 61 authors from across Canada, the United States and Ireland. The book also contains narratives from five African grandmothers.
I am honoured to be in the company of fine writers such as Carolyn Wilker, Ruth Smith-Meyer Phil Callaway, Kathleen Gibson, Judy Maddren, Patricia Elford, L. June Stevenson, and others.

The Kitchener launch of Grandmothers’ Necklace will be held Saturday, May 1, 2010, from 2pm until 4 pm at St. Philip's Lutheran Church, 236 Woodhaven Road in Kitchener. We are really looking forward to a great turnout. Some of the contributors will be in attendance and will be reading excerpts from Grandmothers' Necklace. I even had the honour of having my mugshot on the cover of the book.

So if you happen to be in the area...come on out and sit a while. The Omas Siskona - the Granny group from Kitchener, Ontario, will be hosting the event and providing refreshments for the day!

My prayer is that God will be present and stir hearts into realizing how blessed we are here and how if every one does something small, it can lead into something much bigger for those dear souls in sub-Saharan Africa. I cannot imagine the struggles these grandmothers face. But, being a grandmother myself, I sure can understand the motivation. If we each do our part, what a wonderful world it could be!~

Posted by Glynis at 4:35 AM

Eileen

2010-03-25T23:08:00.000-04:00

"You may very well have cancer for the rest of your life."

"You could be cured."

"Patience is priority."

"If your cancer returns, there is nothing we can do until you have symptoms."

"Do you understand why we don't do the CA125 blood test at each checkup?"

"I hope things go well with the breast lump follow-up."

**************

Did I leave my last check-up at the cancer clinic any wiser than when I entered? Don't think so!

I will say there is something oddly therapeutic about going to the cancer clinic, though. I intentionally look at the faces of the people seated in front of each clinic window and wonder about their stories.

As my dear, faithful driver and companion offers to go get our usual double double and apple cinnamon from the onsite Timmies to tide us over as we wait, I look for a place to sit. Today the clinic is full. Getting two seats together might be tricky. Clinic 3 is right next to the "chemo door" as I affectionately dubbed it 18 months ago!

'Tis there I stepped over the threshold and received my 6 hour treatments. A painful time. I try to avoid sitting close. But the only two vacant chairs are within a few feet from the "door." I decide to stop being silly and claim them. My oversize teal satchel substitutes for my hubby for now. [It needs to be oversize for it holds, along with the other paraphernalia, my book to read, my notes, my diary.]

Soon my tea arrives. Happy Hubby chooses to stand after driving for two hours. My purse stays put. The nice lady next to us smiles and suddenly we are in conversation. It begins with cell phones as a topic. Eileen, we've soon found out her name, knows all about the Blackberry. It is all new to my hubby so he appreciates her mini tutorial. Soon we notice her oxygen tank. Does she have lung cancer?

Ten minutes pass. It seems like we have known each other for years. Eileen does not have cancer. She is at the clinic accompanying her friend who does. She continues to share how she needs a lung transplant but she is considered too healthy. So for now she carts around her portable oxygen tank wherever she may tread.

Eileen has much to complain about. So does her friend who by this time has emerged from the examination room and joins in on our lively conversation. A breast cancer patient, bald from the chemo, but challenged by the battle (I can tell.)

Neither of these gals complain. They sparkle with life. Their good attitude and radiant demeanour casts sunshine on the "chemotherapy door" and people cannot help but smile as they listen to the laughter. I can tell that, too. By the time they leave the clinic, I feel invigorated and blessed.

Eileen, the former MRI technician, whose life was turned upside down once more when her 58 year old husband suffered a heart attack and died, does not bemoan the fact that she is going through a very long valley.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

What an example...

Next Appointment for me - August 2010.

Six months is a long time but it will shoot by at lightning speed. I take my little appointment paper and slip it into my agenda. If I start feeling sorry for myself, I will think of Eileen. I will remember her smile. I will count my blessings.

...I will fear no evil for You are with me...

2010-03-23T22:32:00.000-04:00

I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.
Philippians 4:11-13 (The Message)

Glynis whines: I'm trying...I'm trying!

Probably...

2010-03-06T22:29:00.000-05:00

So I walk into the doctor's office last week to pick up copies of my test results to take to my oncologist at the cancer clinic. I am heading for a check up this coming Thursday so I wanted to have all my ducks in a row.

I was told after my few lumpy scares, that things were okay. The breast lump was a bit more of a scare than the ones on my spine, but after some further testing I was told things seemed fine. The powers that be were booking me for a repeat ultrasound and mammo in 6 months.

As I looked over my report from the diagnostic imaging - the mammogram and ultrasound on the suspicious lump in my breast, my heart sank. Probably...probably benign, the report read. I was under the impression that there was no probably...that it was definitely benign. There was a suggestion that I go for either surgical consultation or have a followup mammo and ultrasound in six months. Somebody, on my behalf, opted for the six month followup.

Sure might have been nice if I had been in on that decision making process.

Maybe I am being overactive in the panic department again. It's just that once a body has been dealt that cancer card, the word 'probably' doesn't sit well. I remember prior to my surgery they said I would probably not need to have chemotherapy.

One hairless year later...

But I must trust and rest in the knowledge that these medical pros are just that - the experts.

Meanwhile I will head off to the cancer clinic this week and rattle my cage a little. I'll ask for that good old second opinion...

Be still and know that I am God...Psalm 46:10

OMG?

2010-02-18T15:33:00.000-05:00

Something has been bothering me lately. Actually it has been bothering me for a while. Maybe I have been watching too many episodes of American Idol or So You Think You Can Boogie.

Why is that so many people feel a need to punctuate conversation with cries of "Oh My God" -which is not said for any praiseworthy reason nor is it intended to call attention to the mighty works of the Lord? No holy awe here, folks. Only self absorbed blasphemy in my books. Social networking sites aren't any better either. They too, sport the typical OMG acronym more often than not.

I am no prude, yet I am thinking that taking the Lord's name in vain in this manner is saturating society and we hardly even bat an eyelash.

Well, you know what they say...if you can't beat 'em - join 'em. So, yes. That is what I will do. I will spend a portion of my day and include Oh, My God in my vocabulary starting right now. I sure know I have a million reasons in my life to say Oh, My God!

In fact, I am going to share ten of those reasons right here.

1. Oh, my God! How wonderful you are. You created me in my mother's womb and made me in a really cool way. I could never do that, even if I had the smarts.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:14

2. Oh, my God! I survived cancer. I cannot thank you enough for giving me more days. I sure wasn't finished having grandbabies or writing my stories or being a good wife or organizing my cupboards.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:43.

3. Oh, my God! I watched two of my beautiful grandchildren being born. I gaze in awe as I see all my grandchildren wholly trust my own 'babies' to teach them and love them and nurture them. How can anyone doubt Who you are and what a miracle is?.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

4. Oh, my God! You sent Jesus, knowing He would be rejected and persecuted and would die a horrible death on the cross. How you must love us.

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Isaiah 53:3

5. Oh, my God! Your power in nature is breathtaking. I plant a tiny seed and within a few months I am eating food that will nourish and sustain. My God - how do you do that?

So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. 1Corinthians 3:7

6. Oh, my God! I do not understand natural disaster. I wonder if I was a Haitian soul, would I be shaking my fist at You or would I be rejoicing as some of those God fearing people are? I really cannot comprehend why You allow this to happen, but I know that I don't need to. You are in control. My God, who am I to question? But thanks for letting me, all the same.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. Isaiah 55:8

7. Oh, my God! When I think of all the beautiful people you have put in my path, I rejoice. I don't think I do it often enough, though. So thanks God for family and friends who say hello through e-mails, letters, phone calls, visits. I need to stop and smell the roses more often.

A friend loves at all times...Proverbs 17:17

8. Oh, my God! I have failed you. You have given me so much. I demand more. You have forgiven me over and over again. I still make poor choices. I bow my head in prayer and then I get on with my day and forget what you whispered to my heart.

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

9. Oh, my G od! How I marvel at people like Mother Theresa, and Billy Graham and ordinary people who tread in the name of Jesus where others fear to tread. Give me half their courage and allow me to get my light out from under the bushel.

In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:16

10. Oh, my God! For you, my God so loved this crazy mixed up, foul mouthed, power consuming, war-mongering world that you sent your only Son, Jesus, so that we may not perish but have that life that goes on and on forever. What, by the way my God, is forever? You have promised us eternal life with Jesus. Can I even fathom what that means? That thought seems too lofty. I am unworthy, yet you invite me to know you personally. Show me more, Lord. I cannot wait. But I will. Because, my God, it is all about You and Your perfect timing.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

I Thank you Oh, My God!

Posted by Glynis at 7:21 AM Labels: OMG; Oh My God

Dense

2010-02-13T08:50:00.000-05:00

So they tell me I'm a little dense and I've got more lumps than the average camel. But I'm absolutely overjoyed at the news.

I went for my repeat mammogram and ultrasound this past week. I was getting a little nervous at first, because they switched my appointments around and wanted me to come in a week earlier than originally planned.

I had convinced myself they did that for there was something horrifying on the report. It turned out, I had naught to fear for the appointment switching was to accomodate the doctor's whims and wishes not because of anything untoward. They managed to 'squeeze' me in (pardon the mammogram pun ladies) last minute and all was an adventure. I got there around 10:30am and I didn't leave until quarter to one. But they gave me a workout that covered all the bases.

Bottom line - I have cysts, lipomas (benign) and have dense tissue. I really didn't mind that the techy gal called me dense. I was privy to the little areas on the screen as she pointed out all my lumps and bumps. Sheesh. I am thinking that I am turning into a toad. I better get kissing my prince lest I start croaking!

Anyway, the heart is at peace. And the green light tells me to accelerate and get on with life. There is still no real indication about the whys and wherefores of my pre Christmas 'spell' but I feel just fine now. I guess if it 'ain't broke we won't fix it!'

God has a few more plans for me I know, so I am going to focus on those and get on with things. No sense in bemoaning one's misery. Life awaits. Okay, it's the weekend and I am off to start counting blessings. Joy! Hope! Go!

I Will Take Care of You

2010-02-05T14:19:00.000-05:00

I miss my mother terribly.
Here's to you mom.

Beautiful song by Amy Sky

Enid Latham [MOM] 1926-2007

When the Telephone Rings

2010-01-27T10:37:00.000-05:00

Two minutes ago, a ringing phone snapped me back to reality and I am just about ready to stand on my desk and boogy! It was a nurse from my lovely doc's office. My CA125 is normal. 'Normal...' I haven't been called that in a while. She actually called me 'normal' and for now I am relishing in that fact.

I am not even going to think about my next round of tests right now. Afterall, it is not unusual to be called back for a repeat mammogram and ultrasound, right? I am just not looking forward to having an audience. Apparently the radiologist is going to be in the room this time along with the technician. One would think I have lost all my modesty after what I have been through over the past while. Sigh. I guess will have once it's all over!

Right now I'm off to dance with my grandbabies in the kitchen! Tap..tap...clickety-click. Like my new tap shoes?

Thank You Jesus!

Say Cheese

2010-01-26T21:17:00.000-05:00

A little cheesy or maybe even a tad corny, but that's a command that still incites bared teeth and toothy grins in front of a camera.

I always used to hate having my photo taken but I think I am over that now, although I don't make it a habit posing in front of a camera if I can help it.

I'm thinking that my hesitancy about having my mug shot on photo paper had to do with my teeth. I always thought I had rabbit teeth. Maybe it was something to do with my family calling me bugs bunny when I was a young whipper snapper. Not nice, huh? But in my maturity I am over it. (I think)

Last year I was awarded top prize for individual fundraiser at the Ovarian Cancer Canada Winners Walk of Hope and my prize was a super 2 hour package from a photography studio in Barrie - 3 Girls and a Camera. http://www.threegirlsandacamera.com/.

It was time to get a grip and show my grin! We needed updated photos for the Rogue's Gallery at our house!

We had some troubles setting up a time that was convenient for everyone to get together for family pics but we eventually made it. We headed north in our blue jeans and pink for girls; black for boys ensemble.

Laura Baker, the photographer extraordinaire, nestled us nicely into her old barn and we primped and posed every which way on the straw bales. It was lots of fun and Laura must have snapped 200 pictures or more! She was so kind and patient with us - even though it was a 'prize' and not a paid sitting for her. What a gem.

Now that I have the CD filled with all my grinning offspring and their gorgeous families (am I slightly prejudiced?) I am trying to figure out sizes for the wall and where to hang them. I don't exactly have a discerning eye for interior decorating, I am going to give it the old college try, though. Hmmm. Should be fun!

The End(s)

One Lump or Two, Madam? Subtitle: Defining Normal

2010-01-21T11:32:00.001-05:00

(This post was originally written on Tuesday, January 19/10)

The verdict is [partially] in and so far the news is good. The two odd lumpy areas at the base of my spine were once again, lipomas, which are basically clinically insignificant. For that, I breath a sigh of relief!

The abdominal x-ray shows a few issues - naught that a few pills can't help, though. I still have to sit tight for the repeat mammogram on the lump but it may be just a bad pose on my part and yet one more insignificant lump to add to my collection. We'll see.

Tomorrow - bloodwork. Then we will close this Pandora's box and hopefully life will plateau once more. I hesitate to say it will get back to 'normal' for I have forgotten what that is to be honest. Was I ever there?

I'm sitting in the cardiac unit at University Hospital in London writing this as I await the completion of Dad's pacemaker procedure - he's getting a "newer model." I wonder if Dad ever wanted to be 'normal' again and not have a pacemaker. But since he has had one since 1983, I guess having one is normal for him. I suppose, then, that normal is relative.

Anyway, when I stop and think about it, normal would probably be far too boring for this gal who can't sit still at the best of times. We journey on and count it all joy. That's my kind of normal!

Neurotic? Psychotic? Idiotic?

2010-01-11T08:16:00.000-05:00

So I went to the doctor's armed with my lovely new agenda. The list seemed silly but Shirley, the nurse, encouraged me by telling me that it was a smart thing to do, for patients have the tendency to forget things once the doctor walks in.

"You don't think I am neurotic doing this?" I asked.

"Of course not. It's your life and your body. You have every right to say what's up and to write it down."

We chatted some more. Shirley gave me the confidence to express exactly what was on my mind and to request my CA125 blood test although my oncologist told me it would just be a source of anxiety if it was elevated. In other words, they wouldn't do repeat chemotherapy until I got sicker.

It was a bit of an extended visit with my lovely MD and she seemed sincere in her concerns and allowed me to share and read from my 'neurotic list.' In a nutshell, she ended up ordering two ultrasounds, one x-ray, one mammogram and bloodwork.

So I went on my merry way and wrote the dates down for all my appointments. All of a sudden I felt like it was 2008 again when health related appointments were the order of the day, the week, the month, the year!

With students rebooked and dates juggled, I ended up being able to have all the tests in one day, except for the bloodwork. I had an ultrasound and a mammogram in one hospital and a mammogram and a second ultrasound in another hospital. Bloodwork will happen next Wednesday [I have to remember not to eat anything in the morning!]

I am now waiting for the results of the ultrasound and the x-ray. These were done because of the lump on the base of my spine and also as a followup from the unexplained 'spell' that I had before Christmas. I am thinking that no news is good news, because it has been three days and no one has called.

The mammogram is another story. I am trying not to think bad thoughts but the news did come in and now I have to go back to get 'rechecked.' The nurse who called me on the day following the initial mammogram said the doctor who read it 'just wasn't sure.' They wanted to check a suspicious area. So here's the kicker. The nurse scored me another appointment but it isn't for another three and a half weeks. To me, that sounds like it's naught to fret about, right?

Thinking positively. Giving it to God. Taking it back again to chew and worry over. Thinking positively again. Apologizing and giving it back to God. Sigh...

Being a profoundly lumpy person, I am trying to get my head around this and am trying to convince myself that these are 'just another couple of harmless lumps."

Enough said...I have had my little panic attack so now I will wait. I mean, why waste my time thinking the worst when I could be enjoying the best! One day at a time, sweet Jesus!

Can I go with them?

2009-12-27T21:07:00.000-05:00

[Photo: My sweet-faced Trenton!]

On Christmas eve we attended the candlelight service at our church. A silent and holy night; all was calm; all was bright. Trenton, my beautiful little grandson, was seated on the pew next to Mommy and Grandma.

Two shepherds were centre stage dramatically sharing in the marvel of that first Christmas night. Then the lights on the balcony shone down on the husband and wife duet as they spoke to the congregation. It was surely a chorus of the heavenly host announcing that the Babe, laid in a manger, was the Prince of Peace. How the two shepherds longed to see the Child.
Trenton, although only three years old, sat rapt. His little mouth, agape, he stared and listened to the shepherds on stage as they shared the story of Christ's birth. Then at one point, they made plans to leave the sheep and go to the stable to gaze upon the little Jesus child.

This might be a bit of a paraphrase, but the lady shepherd said to her beloved, "Let us go see the Child."
Her partner agreed that they should leave and in a moment the two had left the stage and headed down the aisle past where Trenton and the rest of us were seated.

Trenton leaned over to his Mommy and asked, "Where are they going?"

Mommy answered, "To see Baby Jesus."

"Can I go with them?" said Trenton.

That is when I lost it. Tears consumed and my heart fluttered. Oh the innocence of the little children. What a lesson. What a joy to behold. Out of the mouths of babes...

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

Matthew 19:14

I'm Back!

2009-12-27T20:47:00.000-05:00

It seems like forever since I have shared some of my heart moments. Time has plodded on and I have had a few issues medically and mentally - an interesting combination. I have to see a doc on January 7th because I had one of my wretched 'spells' as I used to dub them. These spells were supposed to have disappeared after all that surgery chemo nonsense last year. On December 15th, my body told me differently. I collapsed on the bathroom floor in such pain and with such an odd feeling deep in my soul, that my thoughts rested on three numbers - 911. Thank the Lord, my dear hubby was home and he was able to get me to bed and I snapped out of it after a while.

In my conversation with the oncology nurse later, she told me to either make an appointment with them or to see my own doctor. I opted for geographical convenience so I head to the Drayton office in a week. Sigh.

I am trying not to think the worst, for my mind does far too many acrobatics for my liking. I will wait to see what happens. (I may press for that CA125 however!)

I'll wait and see what God has in store for me this year. Meanwhile I will journey on trying not to procrastinate too much with resolutions and changes for 2010. It's getting harder and harder for this old dog to learn new tricks!

Life is too Sweet to be Bitter!

2009-12-08T22:43:00.000-05:00

I just love this video. The compassion and caring of this medical family speaks volumes. I love the male janitor the best, I think!

Joy and Peace to all my BC and OC sisters. And thanks to Kim and Anja for showing this one to me and making my day! Life is to sweet to be bitter! (A beautiful quote from a beautiful cancer survivor!)

Frustration!

2009-12-02T21:49:00.000-05:00

One of my mother's favourite poets was the famous British versifier - Patience Strong (1907-1990). I love her poetry, too, but more - I love her name. As I think back to my appointment last Thursday at the cancer clinic, I think about the 'patience, strong' that I did not have.

I did not see my own gynecologic-oncologist at the clinic. Sadly he has returned to France to be with his family. I miss him greatly. His professional yet calming presence and gentle French accent was like balm to my soul. He seemed to understand so many of my deep seated emotions and just the way he looked into my eyes, spoke to me of compassion and empathy. I know I was just another patient, but I felt a great bond with him that I am sad to lose.

The team of physicians that are left are good and the one doc who I saw at my appointment was someone who was not a stranger to me. I had seen him on a few other occasions during my chemotherapy. He's very friendly, but somehow I think we have a bit of a personality conflict going on. He's stubborn and so am I. So that doesn't help. Unlike my other sweet doctor, he refuses to do a CA125 blood test at my check ups. He says that if it is elevated, they would not do anything about it until I become symptomatic and it would only cause me stress. Suppressing my urge to reach out and strangle him, I wanted details of his whys and wherefores...and I also wanted him to know how elevated my stress level was because I do not know!

My 'new' doc is very clever, and can talk a blue streak around me with medical jargon, but somehow every time I see him, I leave that place in a state of frustration. Maybe I need to talk to my OC Sisters and find out what kind of follow-up they receive. Maybe I need to reflect and realize that if my CA125 is elevated then that means the chemo did not work. Maybe I need to give this whole frustration thing over to God. Sigh...

The Faith That Moves The Mountains
by Patience Strong

When you know not where to turn, stay still, just where you are.

There is something yet to learn.

Be careful lest you jar the threads that fate is weaving in a pattern you can't see.

Be Passive.

Trust the Hand that works the looms of destiny.

Though it is your wish to set things rightand put things straight,

Choose the wiser way.

Have faith.

With patience watch and wait.

There's a purpose in it all,

as time will surely prove

And when you least expect it,

you will see the mountain move.

Listen to the Whispers...

2009-11-29T21:32:00.000-05:00

I am jiggling between nervousness and excitement. On Wednesday I am doing my first Listen to the Whispers presentation on behalf of Ovarian Cancer Canada (OCC). As a genuine, official volunteer for OCC I am now expected to help turn up the volume on ovarian cancer. And, believe me, I am head over heels happy to oblige!

Because of its insidious nature and often vague symptoms of ovarian cancer, there is a movement afoot that will help women become more aware of this silent killer. And I am proud to be a part of it.

I am hoping that there is a good turn out for my presentation and that I won't fumble for words or ramble to the point of being boring.

The presentation is open to women of all ages (and men if they wish!) The hour long session is being hosted by the Senior's Centre for Excellence and is going to be held at Conestoga Crest in Drayton on Wednesday, December 2nd/09 at 1:30.

If you are in the area and wouldn't mind a free coffee and some goodies, want to hear a bit about my story and want to take in some extremely interesting information about ovarian cancer, then come on along and let's have a little visit! I'll be waiting.

Uncle Phil's Diner Therapy

2009-11-25T21:33:00.000-05:00

Photo: Flodene and Violet discussing Chapter 7 in

my (Flodene's) book - "The Cash Register is NOT a toy!"

It's been quite a week. In fact, it's been quite a few weeks! We presented the last performance of "No Room at the Diner - Uncle Phil's Style," Sunday evening.The play is a hilarious recreation of a 50s diner with a great underlying Christmas story. I was more than honoured to have one of the lead roles. We had amazing directors and the cast really was like one big happy family!

I had been battling the flu since Saturday morning, so by the time our Sunday evening gig started, I was convinced I would lose my voice entirely. But not so. God was good and He heard my prayers (and those of the multitude in the cast!) My adrenalin kicked in and it was basically smooth sailing that evening - save a few coughs, and with the semi-medicinal help of two packages of Halls, a couple of squirts of my 'special' throat spray and two soda glasses of iced water!

We had a tough but fabulous eight weeks rehearsing and preparing for this past weekend's three performances. Then all of a sudden it was over.

As I stood on the stage at the end of the evening on Sunday, singing Silent Night with the rest of the incredible cast, I did so with tears running down my face. I was moved by what was happening on stage but something else was stirring my heart. I suddenly realized where I was one year ago.

I was as bald as a baby this time last year, and had just finished a rigorous six months of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. And now - November 2009 - there I stood staring into the eyes of so many people in the audience who may or may not have known about me and my journey. It didn't matter. All I could do was give thanks to God. My heart overflowed with joy as I realized that for me, being part of Uncle Phil's Diner was not only a great way to get out and do something fun with my hubby (who had the role of Papa LaBamba, the famous dance instructor) but it had been plain old therapeutic for this old gray mare who surely 'ain't what she used to be!'

Photo: Momma, Uncle Phil and Flodene giving Phil his gift!

Tomorrow I am heading to the cancer clinic again to see what they think. I cannot believe it is my one year check up. But we journey on. I can't help but wonder what I will be thinking this time next

year. I'm thinking I will be twice as joyful! Is that possible? xx

Per Mare Per Terram

2009-11-10T08:46:00.001-05:00

I didn't know Charlie well. But my Dad did. Malcolm did. And so did all their other faithful Royal Marine comrades who faithfully visited Charlie in Blenheim on a regular basis.

Last night Dad's good friend, Malcolm called to tell him that Charlie died during the night. Charlie was 101 years young. Apparently for the past few years, this strong marine had been drifting into a land where only God treads. Charlie was preparing to meet his Maker. And last night he stepped into that glorious land.

It didn't matter to those chaps from the Royal Marine Association that Charlie didn't seem to know them when they made the long trek to the nursing home where Charlie had lived for many years. They would gather around Charlie's chair and share, laugh, play music and generally relive memories. I am so moved by that dedication and love for fellow man. It didn't die on the battle field or surface once a year...these valiant Royal Marines (yes dad, I am saluting!) kept on giving and making time and caring for their comrade to the end. What an example.

I'm so proud of my dad and his buddies. Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. We will never forget what you have all done for us. May we proudly carry your banner in our hearts!

As a dedication to the Royal Marines and for Charlie, I want to share this wonderful song created and sung by a sweet, talented friend of mine - Adele Simons. I know you will all recognize the words...This one is for you RMA!

Enjoy!

O Canada - Here Comes Trenton!

2009-11-02T22:36:00.000-05:00

There is just something about grandchildren that makes me forget my pain and my problems. When I gaze into the faces of my own children's children I inhale deeply and am reminded about the miracle of life. God is good!

Yesterday Trenton, my three year old grandson, sang O Canada at the beginning of the the Icemen Senior Men's Hockey game in our local arena. He had been practising for a little while but yesterday was his moment to shine. Trenton didn't bat an eyelid. He loves hockey and it wasn't a big deal to him that he should be required to stand on his little carpet and sing the national anthem for his favourite local team. He seemed just as confident singing on the ice in front of all those big uniformed fella's and the spectators as he does singing his little heart out in my kitchen for us.

Having Daddy as head coach of the Icemen is one of the reasons that Trenton loves the game. And when Daddy and Mommy asked him if he wanted to sing O Canada at the Icemen game one day, he jumped at the opportunity. I am thinking that when I was three years old, singing in front of all those big uniformed masked guys with equally big sticks in their hands would have sent me into hiding. Grandma and Mommy were more nervous than Trenton.

Of course, if you watch the video you will see where Grandma takes leave of her senses at the end and viewers get a few delightful shots of the arena ceiling amidst my screeching joyfulness. (Cheering my grandchildren on is part of my job! Oh and I do love my job!)

Incidentally the Icemen won their game. When Trenton sings...good things happen.

My Happy Feet!

2009-10-31T23:01:00.000-04:00

When I was in the middle of my chemotherapy last year, I spotted a link on one of my dear OC sister's blogs.

I was fascinated and more than a little curious. The link was for Ovations for the Cure. http://www.ovationsforthecure.com/

I clicked on the link and was suddenly introduced to a support group for ovarian cancer fighters.

Apparently this group, since 2006, have been committed to a wonderfully encouraging program called "Happy Feet."

These quiet Ovation angels have touched the lives of many women who are undergoing chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. "Happy Feet" is a program that provides patients with a pair of specially-designed Stuart Weitzman stylish jelly shoes jeweled with Swarovski crystals. These shoes are free to survivors as a way of helping them over the hurdles and through the valley of cancer.

I received my much appreciated package in the mail this week and was moved to tears. Here is my thankyou letter:

Dear Susan and Team:

I am in tears as I sit here writing you this inadequate 'thank you.' I just returned from my mail box clutching my precious package. Thank you a thousand times for what you have done for me this day. I have completed my chemotherapy, my follow-up visits are looking positive, and my hair is making a happy comeback - but the deep recesses of my soul still pinch me and remind me that remission doesn't mean I am cured. There are some who do not (cannot) understand this feeling but I do carry cancer around in my pocket and I think I will forever! Somedays it is stuck like gum to the lining. Don't get me wrong, I think positively and most days I relish each breath I take. But there are some days I wonder 'when' my cancer will rear its ugly head again.

This special package from you was like opening a treasure trove of encouragement. The shoes are exquisite. The bracelet, the shoes, the bumper sticker, the pin...I love them! I feel so blessed and touched by what you have handed to me, friends. God has taught me plenty of lessons over the last year, and the big one is how truly caring some people are. I count Ovations as an incredible blessing. I have been asked to be a speaker for the Listen to the Whispers program through Ovarian Cancer Canada so guess what I am going to wear to each of my presentations? Again, a thousand thankyous and please know that you lifted my spirits this day and beyond. You 'doeth good like medicine!' We journey onward...love Glynis - a survivor! :)
**********************************

Now I am tearing up again! How blessed am I?

http://www.ovationsforthecure.org/programs/programs_hf.php

Try a Little Tenderness.

2009-10-25T22:30:00.000-04:00

Although this is not the same version, this is (was) my sweet momma's favourite song - try a little tenderness. When I saw the accompanying video, I am afraid I lost a few salty ones.

Time Out

2009-10-15T23:00:00.000-04:00

Trenton, my little sweetheart grandson, has been my encouragement and a source of joy for a long time. In this photo taken almost a year ago, he has just warmed my heart by uttering those precious words, "Gramma, your hair is coming home!" I will never forget those precious and honest words, that day, that moment, that emotion that welled up in my heart and soul and warmed me like a good medicine.

I adore all my grandchildren and am so very thrilled to the core that God granted me more days so that I could rejoice and be refreshed by my family.

This morning I chuckled so hard. I was keeping an eye on Trenton. I had told him not to play hockey in the livingroom with the golf ball. His three year old brain held off the hockey for a while like a good lad, but somehow, he forgot and the next thing I knew, I heard a ping and a crash as the makeshift hockey puck golf ball richoted off the table. I immediately stepped in with a stern voice and the solution.

(Photo: Too cute for a time out!)

I pointed. "Sit on that stool," I told three year old Trenton in my best stern Grandma voice. He looked at the little brown stool by the door where he sometimes sits to put his shoes on. He knew he had done wrong and so parked himself in the marked spot.

A moment passed and the sweet little monkey looked at me with his little turned up nose and said - "Grandma...am I in a time out, or what?" I stifled my giggle and answered in the affirmative.

"I'm usually on the stairs for a time out, you know," he continued. I left the room and proceeded to wipe the grin off my face.

There is just something absolutely charming and precious about children. I am still hoping that when I get to heaven God picks me to work in the nursery.

For now, though, I will be happy snuggling and giggling with my grandbabies. Life is good.

Fighting the Good Fight

2009-10-01T22:43:00.000-04:00

We did it. We made the 5km route without incident, with only a little pain in my broken toe and with a whole lot of sunshine on our path. God is good. The forecast was for some nasty rain but as was the focus of our prayer, the sun smiled on us.

Our trek to Barrie was worthwhile as Amanda and I, along with Jocelyn and Trenton completed our journey in the Winners Walk of Hope once again this year.
As expected, it was an emotional day and to be suddenly surrounded by so many people who wanted to make a difference, well, that was one giant memory forever etched on my hard drive! And as added icing on the cake, yours truly was flabbergasted to discover I was the winner once again for the individual raising the most funds. After I got over the shock, I was invited to waltz on over to the prize table and claim my prize. Assorted temptations beckoned but I soon settled for the $100 gift certificate from Winners or Homesense (which happens to be my favourite store.) When it comes time for my shopping trip I plan to take my happy hubby along since he was the one who asked many people to donate to the cause! I am sure I wouldn't have reached my goal if it wasn't for him prowling around after church some Sundays with clipboard in hand!

I am so grateful to Amanda, my sweet daughter, who was the one who passionately approached the gals in Barrie and asked if we could be a part of this great group last year when I was going through my chemotherapy. Belonging to such an enthusiastic group is contagious and encouraging and there is just something about this special day that urges me to fight on and pursue the goal of bringing ovarian cancer to the forefront and making women more aware of this potentially silent killer.

Kudos to organizers Kim Rowntree, Laura Zawadiuk, Hayley Marchildon and Kristine Andreadis and to all the other volunteers who made this day a smashing success. Local media personality, Kool FM's Deb James did a wonderful job of keeping everyone informed and excited about the day. These gals (and their behind the scenes hubbies) sure helped make a wonderful noise and the volume was surely turned up last weekend on ovarian cancer awareness.

Amanda and I were thinking about finding a closer location next year, but I am thinking now that there is just something special about being around the familiar. Not to mention the weekend away, the hot tub and the pool - nice added bonuses! Walk on ladies.

Thank you God for creating these special rays of sunshine on a sometimes cloudy life. It makes the journey easier! I press on for my sisters.

2009-09-24T21:14:00.000-04:00

Well, the weekend descends quickly and I am still limping along. I am hoping and praying that another two days will do the trick. My broken toe still refuses to settle well into my nice Dr.Scholl runners.

The Winner's Walk of Hope 5km walk is Sunday already and I am absolutely pumped about going and doing my part to help my 'sisters' with early detection of ovarian cancer. Amanda just may have to pull me in Jocelyn's little wagon. But I am going one way or the other. Move over Trenton!

I would not want anyone to go through what I went through last year. The wretched, bittersweet chemotherapy got me through, but the journey was rough. So if a portion of the funds raised by our Sunflower Seeds team helps with the early detection of ovarian cancer in even one sister, it will be all worthwhile.

I read a quote from Dr. William Hamilton, a lead U.S. researcher on a recent survey of ovarian cancer symptoms. He said, "Ovarian cancer is not silent, it's noisy. It's just that we're not very good at deciphering the noise."

When I first heard that, I thought he might be right. But on further pondering, I wanted to wallop the nice man. The symptoms of ovarian cancer to many women are silent. I still maintain that.

Many women with bloating (the biggie) just think that they are menopausal or are eating the wrong things. When I consider my symptoms they were basically silent. I barely even noticed the bloating. And I sure did not have any loss of appetite - another symptom. I had no nausea or weight loss (fat chance) nor did I have any bleeding. Looking back now, I did have fatigue and a few other vague symptoms, but nothing that would scream 'cancer.' However, the growth in my abdomen was my biggest symptom, although I tried to slough it off as my uterus doing a pre-menopausal flip-flop.

Perhaps I am being a little hard on Doc. Hamilton; maybe I'm ticked because he doesn't have a uterus. But I suppose, when I re-read what he said, it is all about getting educated and making a noise in that manner. So as I walk this weekend I will do just that as I think and pray for all my OC sisters who have gone before me or who are just starting out on their journeys.

This Sunday I will walk with my head held high, with a little limp in my gait, with praise and thanksgiving in my heart for those who sponsored me, and a whole lot of gratefulness to God for extending my 'breatheability' a little longer so that I can savour this precious moment called life!

**********************************

FYI

Physical symptoms of ovarian cancer include:
abdominal discomfort or pelvic pain
bloating
difficulty eating or feeling full quickly
frequent urination
fatigue
backache
nausea, indigestion, loss of appetite
weight loss
change in bowel habits
gas
pain during intercourse
abnormal vaginal bleeding (rare)

Random Acts...

2009-09-17T20:10:00.000-04:00

I read an interesting yet troubling article in the newspaper yesterday. It was a good article and definitely had a positive and uplifting angle yet I couldn't help feeling a little downhearted about what I read.

Random Act of Kindness Day Approaches was the headline. Apparently a day has been set aside to challenge everyday folk into doing a random act of kindness and then they have to encourage others to do the same thing by handing out preprinted cards that indicate that the recipient of one act should pass it on or pay it forward.

I love the concept. I am not fond of the idea that we need to be told to do this and that we need a special day to remind us how good and right it is to be kind. Why can't we do this without being prompted? Why does the media have to be part of it? Why do we need cards to remind us that kindness brings joy to the soul.

I say we challenge ourselves to random acts of kindness on a daily basis. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we took up that banner? Can you imagine? Manners might resurface. Patience will be the norm. Road rage and stress induced diseases would be a thing of the past.

I recall so many acts of kindness that happened last year as I was going through my chemo. I remember especially Darlene who gave and gave and gave. As I tried in vain to pay her back or at least talked about how I would pay her back for all her kindness, she reminded me that I needed to pay it forward! Sound advice if you ask me!

Kindness is more than deeds, though. According to author, C. Neil Strait, Kindness is an attitude, and expression, a look, a touch. It is anything that lifts a person. I like that. Really, when you stop and think about it, being kind is not a big imposition. Try it sometime. They say that if you do something three times, then it becomes a habit. Kindness is one of those nice habits.

I'm thinking Jesus did not have little cards that He handed out every time He showed kindness to others. I'm thinking that if He did, he would have needed a mighty big satchel!

I read this somewhere, too: If someone were to pay you 10 cents for every kind word you ever spoke and collect 5 cents for every unkind word, would you be rich or poor? Hmmm...

Check out this lovely, encouraging video. How can you show someone a random act of kindness? Don't wait for November or until someone gives you a card. Someone needs you today. Go get some flowers.

Hop Along!

2009-09-11T22:57:00.000-04:00

Ouch! My toe hurts. And they say there is naught that any medical soul can do to make it better!

Last evening I banged my toe rather ungracefully and the result is one sore and broken digit. I am hopping along and still managing to get from point A to point B, though, so that is a good thing. There seems to never be a dull moment around this house!

I wish God could grant me about six more hours in a day, and then I might get some things completed. Sigh. The beat goes on.

I am in a little bit of a frenzy as I try to wrap up my fundraising for my Winners Walk of Hope. And of course I break my toe before my 5km walk! I am bound and determined that I will walk the whole route - broken toe or not, though! Amanda said she would pull me in the wagon along with Jocelyn if needs be! She's a good girl. :) We journey on...

"Nobody can take my joy away from me unless I let them."

Winners Walk of Hope

2009-08-30T21:08:00.000-04:00

I can't believe that it was almost a year ago that I was taking part in the Winners Walk of Hope in Barrie, Ontario. And now it is time to do it again! I am excited, although my sore feet aren't exactly jumping for joy yet. Amanda and I are the only ones on our Sunflower Seeds team this year so we have a lot of noise to make. I am overwhelmed with those who are sponsoring us for our mini walk already and can hardly find the words to thank friends and family who are encouraging us in many different ways.

Last year I was the champion individual fundraiser. That was a thrilling accolade! And I had my face plastered on the pages of the Barrie Times Journal to boot. Although that was a nice honour, I am pleased as punch to just be part of this wonderful day. If I can help in some small way to help a sister out there to become more aware of their body and to help this wretched Ovarian Cancer be caught early or eradicated, then I am thrilled.

If anyone out there is interested in supporting me financially or prayerfully, I am truly grateful. Even words on a page encourage me beyond...um...words. I am doing this for my 'sisters' out there who have been, or are still, battling cancer, including Linda, Roxanne, Rosie, Kia, Judy, Daria, Denise, Tracey, Tina, Sandhy, Cindy, and so many, many more. My heart hugs each one of you and I pray that the plan God has for each of you is for complete healing. Journey on, girls, and I will take you with me on September 27th at 9am!

Here's the 'form' letter that the Winners Walk of Hope sends out on my behalf. Please don't feel obligated but have a gander anyway and see what I am up to!

<You have been invited to pledge Glynis Belec in the Mini Winners Walk of Hope. Join thousands of people across Canada supporting the Winners Walk of Hope, a remarkable event designed to create a sense of community for women living with ovarian cancer and their family and friends. All funds raised through this event support Ovarian Cancer Canada's mission to: support women and their families touched by ovarian cancer, educate well women and healthcare professionals and to fund ovarian cancer research. It's a day filled with hope and support, creating a greater awareness around ovarian cancer. To date, the Winners Walk of Hope has raised over $4.5 million.

Until there is a reliable early detection test, raising awareness about ovarian cancer is key. The Mini Winners Walk of Hope is a perfect opportunity for us to Turn UP the Volume! on ovarian cancer. Each year, 2400 women in Canada are diagnosed with ovarian cancer and sadly 1,700 women die of the disease. Even though the statistics are bleak, the good news is that when diagnosed in the early stages, the long-term survival rate is up to 90%. Education and awareness are the best tools we have for improving survival by alerting women to the signs and symptoms of the disease. Visit www.winnerswalkofhope.ca for more information!For more information on Ovarian Cancer Canada's many programs, please visit www.ovariancanada.org

Secure online donations can be made with your credit card and an official charitable tax receipt will be sent to you by email within five minutes! You can make an online donation now by clicking on the following link:http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?SID=2321540For more information about the Mini Winners Walk of Hope, please visit www.winnerswalkofhope.ca Thank you for your generous support!>

Once Upon a Time

2009-08-26T00:00:00.000-04:00

My oncologist used the word 'normal.' That is sweet music to my ears. My blood test results should be in soon, but all seems ready for a happily ever after moment in my life right now. I am in remission, they say - as long as my CA125 is down and behaving. I am hoping and praying that this will be a lengthy state of body! Yippee!

The Voice

2009-08-25T23:35:00.000-04:00

"Count!"
The order assaulted her senses as she tore at the damp sheets. The girl tossed her heavy head to the side trying to quiet the demon-like voices that poked and prodded.

"Five-thousand, six hundred and seventy two, five thousand, six hundred and seventy three, five thousand six hundred and seventy four..."

The vile taste in her mouth made her nauseated but she didn't have the strength to move, to get a drink, to go to the bathroom. She couldn't even recall where the bathroom was. Where was she? Why do the voices torture her so?
"I can't! I can't!" she cried as the pressure for her to continue played havoc with her mind. Perspiration covered her face like drizzle. Her hair was matted and unkempt. But the girl's outward appearance was the least of her worries.

"Five-thousand, six hundred and seventy five, five thousand, six hundred and seventy six, five thousand six hundred and seventy seven..."

"No more! Stop...please."
The girl's frantic voice sounded threadbare and weak.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...all good children go to heaven. When they die, put them in a pie. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!"

"Stop!"
Stillness. Black.
As the girl lay motionless, a wet cloth placed on her forehead took on the appearance of a veil. A shroud. Enveloping. Shielding. Preparing. A grave cloth?
"Count! Death child. Count!"

Like a timid fawn the girl tucked in her limbs and feigned sleep. As the girl drifted into oblivion, the voices started again.

"Awaken and hearken to my instruction!" The demon voice bellowed. "Heed not to sleep wretch!"

"Five-thousand, six hundred and seventy eight, five thousand, six hundred and seventy nine, five thousand six hundred and eighty..."

Like a beating wind, the dreaded voices came faster and urged the girl to count more; longer; louder; higher. The girl could not keep track. She did not know where to begin. She had no sense that her counting would...could ever end. Her voice faltered. Her mind - obfuscated.

"Take me, Jesus. Grace, mercy. Take me," the girl uttered. She no longer wanted to fight. She would give up to the merciless voices and succumb to their incessant battering. They would win.

Then, barely an audible whisper, she heard it. The Voice. It was different. Balm for the soul. Divine balm.

"Count with me my precious child..." came the sweet, loving words.
She reached up her tired arm in the direction of the tender voice. "Where do I begin?" she asked as she opened her eyes and felt a peace like she had not experienced for a very long time.
Start at the beginning - Alpha. Fullness of life. Journey with Me. It is finished - Omega.
The girl's fever had broken.

************************************************************************************

True story...me at 11 years of age. Sadly, I did not realize the significance of that dream for many years. Wasted years? I'm letting God be the judge on that one...

Onward

2009-08-18T22:17:00.000-04:00

Thursday looms near. Once again I make the trek to the London Cancer Clinic for a check up. I rally forth with great optimism and hope in my heart. And I know I do not walk alone. With me I first of all take Jesus. My faithful hubby will accompany me. My sweet 83 year old father asked if I wanted him to come along. I told him no, for the four hour journey takes a toll. But I will hold him in my spirit. My children and friends journey with me in my heart. What more can I ask for? Maybe prayer...if you read this and feel inclined, I would appreciate a few words tossed heavenward. God is our refuge and strength; an ever-present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1

Mrs. B is Back in the Saddle

2009-08-07T23:04:00.000-04:00

There are some days that I wish I could write all day and never climb out of my office basement.

I have this incurable passion to write and it drives me absolutely batty when I cannot get to the computer because of other commitments.

But there are days when I see the grinning faces of my students and watch them having 'aha' moments. Then I remember my incurable passion to teach.

When I stop and think about it, I have the best of both worlds. I love my job. I love my students. I love the flexibility in my schedule.

I think back to this time last year, when I did not even know if I would make it to this year. I relish opportunities to talk about my cancer experience, because I want to shout from the mountain top about how thankful I am.

God was with me every step of the way. He was lighting my path and holding me up. I garnered strength in my weakness for I became dependent and reliant on His grace and mercy alone. I hear about and watch others succumb to cancer and I wonder why I was spared. I ponder the complexity of it all and then realize that God taught me much. He isn't quite finished with me yet. I have a new appreciation for life and all that it offers so I had better not waste my cancer and focus on any 'why me?' notion. I've got too much to do; too many people to love and far too many joyful moments to experience.

Ovarian cancer might be called the silent killer but this old gray mare 'who ain't what she used to be,' isn't going down without a noise. I'm counting my blessings and am happy to be back in the saddle again!

The Master's Voice

2009-07-31T12:38:00.001-04:00

I close my tattered Bible and contemplate a choice

Do I resume my hurried pace or listen for God's voice?

My helter skelter schedule puts me in a spin

With lists and uttered empty words that contribute to the din.

I'm too busy pleasing others and working dawn 'til night.

"It's not my fault," I justify, "I have to do what's right."

Yet still I feel an emptiness at the end of each long day

My head it meets the pillow and I forget to pray.

Yet still, you love me as I sigh and give reason for my days

You understand my weakness and you know my fragile ways.

"Rest, my child. Be still and know..." God whispers to my heart

I know the way that I should go, yet I find it hard to start.

Sometimes the clutch around my soul brings fear with no releasing

The Word of God tells me to pray without a thought to ceasing.

So equip me Lord with prayer and peace; remind me of your Son

Jesus, in His gentle way. Tell again what He has done.

When my mind is stayed on Him a stillness fills my soul

The busyness or wordly quest no longer is my goal.

So as I seek Your still small voice in every thing I do

My motivating urgency will be to worship You.

As I pray a calmness comes and makes my heart rejoice

An urgent need to look to God and hear that still small voice.

Bless you Jesus as you wait with patient love for me

Lessons learned remind me that Your grace has set me free...

Pay Attention to Your Body, Ladies.

2009-07-25T23:33:00.000-04:00