CHRISTMAS BLESSINGS

Peaceful holiday has become an oxymoron like jumbo shrimp or easy labor.  We rush around to find the perfect gifts, overuse our credit cards, try to please well meaning family members, and wonder when that silent night that everyone sings about is coming our way.  Pain and loss can overwhelm us as we put on a brave front and hide our aching hearts.  My children led the way this Christmas when they provided me with such a clear vision of the meaning for my season.

We gathered on Christmas eve at my in-laws and after the year we had endured the joy of simply being together could be felt by all.  This was the first year that Jake read the Christmas story from the bible.  The pure voice of a 10 year old magically awakened my heart and I closed my eyes and really listened to the words he spoke.  I was misty eyed and filled with pride when he finished reading.  I did not want Grant to feel left out so I asked him if he wanted to say a little prayer. I have to give you a little background...

My mother-in-law bought Grant a toy yellow horse when he was a little baby.  He loved the horse so much.  He spent hours pressing the top and scooting across the floor as it galloped ever so slowly.  We had a backup horse in case the first one broke and soon daily horse racing was a regular event.  Because Grant had so many medical issues and delays when he was a baby, it was truly a gift to see him light up with excitement over his "yeyow horsie".  The horses stayed at the beach and as years went by he forgot about them as other toys took their place.  Whenever he would watch and old video and see the horse he would play it over an over as if he was visiting an old friend.  When Uncle Brad came from the beach for Christmas he brought the horses for him.  The reunion was quite a sight.  As Grant bowed his head to pray he got right to the point as he said, "Heavenly father, thank you for this day and our blessings.  Thank you to Uncle Brad for bringing me my yellow horse. Amen."  We were all in stitches that something so simple could make such an impact on this little boy.  As we got up to open the rest of our gifts...Grant objected, "No guys, everyone has to pray."  He went around the room pointing to each one of us and even suggesting how each of us should start our prayers.  Everyone in that room is a Christian, but it took a precious little boy to remind us what truly mattered.

Jake was so excited about the gifts that he received and went out of his way to thank his grandparents...even for the clothes.  Later that night, I asked Grant about his favorite gift and without hesitation he said the yellow horse.  He got some sweet gifts...race car track, remote control train, books...but nothing came close to the feeling that he had when he pushed the head of the horse and watched it slowly clip clop across the floor.  He taught me that we don't need the latest gadgets, newest toys, or most expensive gifts.  Sometimes it is the simple things that touch our spirit and make us feel loved.  I needed my sons to remind me what Christmas means to me.  I know that we all celebrate differently and do not want to offend anyone.  I simply pray that you had a peaceful holiday and that you took time to reflect on what really matters to you and your family.



Wisdom from Jake



Joy from Grant



HA HA HA!!!

Laughter ranks right up there with hugs and kisses with things that make you feel good..  If there is anything that can turn a frown upside down it is a good chuckle.  Life is serious and I find I have to actively seek out friends and situations that give me reason to laugh.  Luckily, I don't have to look very far...

Perhaps the best source of merriment lies in seeing the world through the eyes of children.  My youngest Grant is a complete ham.  He loves to listen to his older brother's CDs and has memorized all of the words even without understanding the meaning.  The other night he sang a heartbreaking ballad from the movie High School Musical where he had to break up with Troy because he had to "move on and be on my own."  Pretty deep emotion coming from an 8 year old.  Jake is always ready to be silly with me especially when any type of music comes on television. We both jump up and begin to dance and I am young again...even if just for a moment.  

Jake has walked to school with his best buddies for the last two years.  The oldest, Thomas, makes me feel like a mental midget most of the time and his dry sense of humor keeps me in stitches.  He comes to the door every morning at 8 am commenting on something he read in the paper, praising me for finally getting around to putting up my scrapbooking mess, or simply asking me how I slept the night before.  His younger brother Robbie, talks in a kind of stream of consciousness..whatever he is thinking just comes right out and he assumes you have been following along the whole time.  Our "conversation" might go something like this..."Morning Rob" (that's me)  His reply...so the snow on the roof of  the stadium just collapsed because it was so heavy.  But they were not playing a game it was empty but kind of bad luck for the QB Bret Farve."  I have not even had coffee yet and he is talking about something that I know nothing about.  Their exuberance rubs off on me and as I close the door and watch them walk away I cannot help but smile.

Belly laughs are my all time favorite way to combat whatever ails you.  Most of them come when I am hanging out with the gals.  Over the past few years we have adopted RummiKub as our official game/obsession.  Laura, Nicole, Christine, and I even had a tournament going during one of the school breaks.  Sure the game is fun, but it is the crazy exchanges between us that are priceless.  One minute I am having a civilized conversation and all of a sudden I find myself on the on the floor gasping for air as I cackle wildly.  Usually I crawl around on my hands and knees repeating whatever had been said that I found so hilarious.  No matter how hard you try the moment can never be recreated.  Sometimes we call another friend or spouse and deliver the line exactly the same way and all we hear is silence on the other end.  That is when you give the universal statement of "you had to be there" to try to soften the blow to our immature egos.  I live for those magical moments when like a soda that has been shaken and then opened...all my bubbles rise to the top and explode into glorious giggles.

If you want to get rid of the blues...pop in a funny movie, attend a comedy show, or hang out with the people that bring life and laughter into your world.   I know when I am in desperate need of a rummi game with my girls or a song and dance with my boys.  None of us want wrinkles, but I think I could do with a few more laugh lines on my face.

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

Proverbs 17:22

Jake and Wilson Brothers
Wake me up each morning with a smile!!!

BATTLING DEPRESSION

Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?

Psalm 42:5

Depression in its mildest form might be an overwhelming feeling of "blah", but left unchecked it can become a debilitating disease that affects every area of your life.  Many times we can specifically identify what is making us feel down.  Grief that every human at one time or another experiences force us to face a season of suffering.  However, there are times when nothing is out of place in our lives and yet we just feel sad.  I am not a doctor and to my knowledge there is no magic pill that heals all hurts, but over the next couple of days I wanted to share what has worked for me.  

Even if you don't read the bible on a regular basis I promise the Psalms will be a comfort to anyone feeling discouraged.  The words come across like a dynamic pep talk as the psalmist laments over his current condition and then looks to God for healing.  Just like the verse above, I have found myself saying..."Jamie, get it together...what are you so down about?"  The writer makes a decision when he declares...Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.   I love the fact that even though he makes the decision to rely on his faith, his courage falters, and he has to repeat this very sentiment over again to his soul.  Sometimes we have to discipline ourselves and not allow our mind to roam freely and travel to dark places. 

If you haven't guessed by now, my faith is the most effective defense against life's woes.  There was a moment when I realized that I was out of options and answers.  In fact I did not even know what the questions were anymore.  Everything was backward and upside down in my world and so I began to read the bible and pray asking God to reveal himself to me.  I wish I could tell you that all of my troubles vanished, but perhaps the more powerful statement is that I found joy and peace in the midst of the storm. 

Do you feel like the lights have gone out of your very soul?  Maybe you are like a balloon that is slowly losing air and pretty soon you will be completely deflated.  The Psalmist could relate when he spoke...I say to God my Rock, Why have you forgotten me?...My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, "Where is your God?"

And yet, I hear a whisper bubbling up deep from within me.  Where is your hope, Jamie?  I know the answer...do you?

   

HOLD ON

As far back as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher.  I graduated with a education degree from NCSU and started my career teaching Social Studies at Apex Middle School.  In October of that same year, I married my high school sweetheart and moved into a new home.  Matt and I wonder what we actually did with all of our free time during the first years of our wedded bliss.  Knowing me, I probably spent my days planning for the future and never enjoying the moment.  Years passed as I left teaching and went to work for The V Foundation...babies were born...we moved two more times...and slowly EVERYTHING fell apart.

I inherited my love of poetry from my father.  We spent many family dinners listening to him recite poetry and quote his favorite Shakespearean sonnet.  One of his favorites was Rudyard Kipling's If. The passage of time has enabled me to find a deeper meaning in the author's words.  A few of the lines give life to what I am feeling at this very moment....

If you can......
watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build'em up with worn out tools. 
If you can....
start again at your beginnings...And never breath a word about your loss.

If you can...
force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on"

A year ago I would have freely told you that I was on the brink of disaster. I made a choice to trust in the Lord and HOLD ON.  I decided to embrace my brokenness, let go of the past, and believe that God could make a way for me through the desert.  Last Friday I received a phone call that I will be temporarily taking over a 7th grade Language Arts class for a teacher on maternity leave.  Talk about starting again at your beginning!!!  Matt and I are working hard to heal our family from the past hurts and have much to celebrate as we move forward into the new year.  In my wildest hopes and dreams I could never have imagined the doors that have been opened and the prayers that have been answered. 

The holiday season has a way of stirring up grief and pain.  Perhaps you find yourself in the midst of a storm or struggling to keep your head above water.  There is hope no matter where you are in your journey.  When you are all out of options and in need of assistance...I have one little suggestion.  Get on your knees and ask HIM to show you the way.  Then get up and take your first step of faith.  He will take you to places you have yet to even imagine.

Don't let go!!!!

MY COLORFUL DAD

As I stare out my window I cannot help but feel sorry for the naked trees.  The magical colors of Fall have disappeared, and I find myself spending more time indoors curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee.  I need something to bring warmth and color to my day and so I remember my Dad....

(This article was originally published in the 1995 Jimmy V Celebrity Golf Classic.  Since I wrote it I thought I could share it on my blog....hope it makes you smile.)

The clock by his bedside revealed it was midnight, but even at this late hour his tired body could not rest.  Jim looked over at his wife sleeping peacefully and knew he should not wake her.  These were the hours that he dreaded to face alone.  The pain kept him up most of the night until the pills finally kicked in and allowed him to rest a few hours.  He remembered the drafting table, paints, and brushes his family bought him so that he could paint when he was unable to sleep.  Jim could not even trace a straight line, but the challenge of painting helped to take his mind off the pain.  He grabbed his robe and slippers and descended the staircase to his office where the canvas he had been working on for the last eight weeks was waiting for him.  He could finish it tonight if only his fingers were not so numb.  The harsh chemotherapy made his hands and feet feel like they were asleep.  As he sat in front of the picture he was creating, his physical inadequacies seemed to disappear.  Finishing this picture would be a triumph of the human spirit.  The very spirit that enabled him to face cancer everyday.  And so he painted until the sun came up, when finally his wife beckoned him to come to bed.  He climbed the stairs with a smile of satisfaction on his face.  His first piece of artwork was complete.

On February 19, 1993, the Valvano house was filled with family and friends for the unveiling of Jim's masterpiece.  There was champagne, food, love, and laughter.  In the den, a spotlight shone on a small frame covered by a silk pillowcase.  Jim proudly sat on one side of his painting and greeted all of the guests.  He wore a red and green beret, mirrored sunglasses, and a bow tie to add some class to the dignified affair.  The guest list included the people that had been by his side helping him fight cancer.  The men in the room not only played golf and went on trips together, but they did their share of sitting by Jim's bedside when he felt too sick to go out.  This was a night when Jim's close friends gathered together to celebrate his victory.

Once again, he had beaten the odds and brought light to a dark situation.  Jim told a few funny stories to get the crowd warmed up, and then the moment was at hand.  The lights were dimmed, the glasses were raised, and the pillowcase was lifted to reveal Brown Boat.  The audience began to ask questions of the artist, but he simply shook his head and refused to answer.  Jim smirked as he explained, "I am a slave to my muse.  I cannot explain the meaning of my work, you must interpret it for yourselves."  Every visitor got a chance to wear their own beret and sunglasses and have their picture taken with the artist and his creation.

As word spread of Jim's painting ability, orders began to pour in for future works.  Pam Valvano wanted an elephant painting, Pat McCann requested rabbits, and Jim wanted to paint kittens for John Saunder's daughter, Aleah.  Immediately following his animal stage, he planned to enter an abstract period, and finish his career painting nudes.  He wife was disturbed at the thought of him painting beautiful women naked, but Jim assured her that he was going to be the one naked not the models.  Although he was unable to finish all of these paintings, he certainly made a powerful statement with his short career as an artist.  Brown Boat represents Jim's creative, energetic, and mysterious spirit.  Not even pain, fear, sickness, or his wife's constant admonitions to not get paint everywhere could keep Jim from adding color to everything he touched. 

I miss you Dad!!!!



Me and the Artist



NICOLE AND JAMIE

Laverne and Shirley...Bert and Ernie...Wilma and Betty...Lucy and Ethel...Hannah Montana and Lola...dynamic duos that go together like peanut butter and jelly.  My older sister Nicole and I are only three years apart and should have walked through our childhood arm in arm.  There was only one issue...we are as different as day and night.  I had a pink huffy bicycle with tassels flowing from the handles and Nicole's bike was black.  When my mom wanted to dress us alike I wore the jumper/dress version and she wore the pants ensemble.  I danced ballet.  She played basketball.  I styled my long hair in fashionable braids or pigtails.  Nicole wore her hair short (think Dorothy Hamill) and usually hid under a baseball cap.  I had a million pretend friends and the part that Nicole played in my fantasy world was my son Mikey Miller...need I say more. A tomboy and a princess tied by the bonds of sisterhood forever.

As we grew up, we never uncovered a reason to separate.  Nicole and I attended the same college, were members of Sigma Kappa sorority, shared an apartment, were married within a year of each other, and had our children about a year apart.  We have so many similar experiences that you would think that we would be like two peas in a pod.  However, everyday I wonder how the heck we came from the same two parents. Nicole is 5 feet tall and I am 5 feet 9 inches.  She is like a size 0 and let's just say I am in the double digit range.  She has the mind of a chemist and the ability to get things done.  I have the heart of a dreamer and can waste a day just thinking about what I would like to accomplish.  Don't let her tough exterior fool you...she is s softee on the inside, but she certainly does not wear her emotions on her sleeve like I do.  She is an athlete and ultra competitive and I can barely dribble a ball.  Often times our distinct personalities lead to disagreements and we know how to push each other's buttons like only a sister can.  But here is the thing...I have shared my entire life with her.  She was there at some of the most wonderful moments I have celebrated.  When the pain was so hard that I thought I would never see my way out there she was waiting for me to find the light at the end of the tunnel.  Sometimes we don't particularly like each other, but there is always love.

We all have people in our little worlds that make us wonder what God was thinking.  I am sure you know a friend, neighbor, co-worker, or even a family member that brings frustration because you cannot figure out what makes them tick. Often times we take on a superior attitude thinking if they would only open their eyes and see how things should be done then we could live in peace and harmony.  Through the ups and downs of my relationship with my older sister I have discovered so many truths.  It might be easier, but it would be boring, if we were all the same.  The unique perspective that others bring to our lives often opens our eyes to what was hidden.  For example, sometimes when we reminisce about our Dad she will have an entirely different take on a memory that we share.  Nicole has enriched my life by helping me step outside my comfort zone and see that there was a world outside my Barbie dream house.   Because we don't think the same way I have to really work at listening and communicating with her.  Sometimes we get irritated with each other, but I am so thankful that we always find a way to move past the issue and find a reason to laugh again. 

As you are reading these words, you might think of someone in your inner circle that is unlike anyone that you know.  Take a moment to thank God for placing them in your life.  Even after 38 years with my sis, I still am not an expert on the inner workings of Nicole V. Donahue.  I don't care anymore...in this moment...I am just extremely grateful for my Big/very little sistah. 



Nicole, Me, and Lee Lee
Who said being the middle child is an issue...I turned out so well adjusted...



KEEPING IT REAL

Reality television can certainly be addictive.  I always feel so much better about myself after I witness the crazy antics that go on in the lives of others.  The shows that really keep my attention are the ones where a person is using their talents to compete...think Project Runway, Top Chef, or America's Next Top Model.  I am never going to be a fashion designer (I could not even learn to sew in a community college class) and modeling or cooking...okay you don't have to laugh.  So why am I so intrigued? 

Basically, you can separate the contestants into two categories.  You either are super confident and act as if nobody other than you exists, or you are insecure, and therefore have to put others down to make yourself feel better.  You rarely see someone that just comes into the experience knowing who they are inside and feeling no threat from others.  The essence of competing is that we want to win and desire others to fail.  I cannot tell a lie, I love when the cast members turn on each other.  When they have those one on one video diaries where the person basically just tells you everything they are thinking.  Can you imagine if during some moment in our days we ducked into a bathroom and shared with a video crew how we felt about our neighbors, coworkers, or even family members?  Ugh...that could get really ugly. 

Life can sometimes feel like a competition when we constantly compare ourselves to others.  We are waiting for someone to hold up a paddle and give us a score.  We become exhausted because there is no end in sight...when are they going to announce the winner?  I kind of vacillate between the individual that is positive and self-assured and the scared victim that knows she can never succeed. Either way, I give far too much weight to what everyone else is doing around me.  I can easily get caught up in wanting praise and affirmation from the crowd that serves as my panel of judges.  What happens when we discover that we don't have what it takes to be on top?  How can we cope with the truth that we are miserable in our quest to please everyone?  Maybe we should retreat into a dark room with sickening amounts of snack food and hunker down for an all day marathon of Keeping up with the Kardashians.  Yeah...that show captures my reality!!!

The truth is that God gave me unique qualities and circumstances that cannot be replicated by another human being alive.  Nobody can be a better Jamie Valvano Howard than me.  What a shame if I spent all my time trying to be like someone else and lost my purpose in the process.  I can learn quite a bit from opening my eyes and heart to the people that have been placed in my life, but nobody can guide my steps better than the One that knows every path I will travel.  I don't need to put anybody down so that I can get ahead.  Just think how we would make others feel if we embraced and celebrated the skills we saw in them without feeling like that gesture would somehow make our own lights appear dimmer.

Here and now think of yourself as the star of your own reality show.  The purpose of this journey is to share as much love and kindness with everyone that you meet.  Don't worry about the other contestants because they cannot alter the divine plan and purpose for your life.  Remember to use the gifts that you have been given to help you not only survive but to prosper as you move ahead. There is but one judge and although you might not always score a perfect 10, I promise you will have a reward in the end.  Oh, and about that video diary. When you feel so overwhelmed and you just need to get it all out before you explode...fall to your knees and start talking...no camera necessary. 





You are the star of something far more real than anything we see on television...



GO TEAM!!!

Athletics was a significant part of my childhood, but I never actually played a sport.  I failed to understand the impact that a quality coach can have on a young person.  As a parent I want my son to be involved in activities that will not only help him learn specific skills, but also develop his character and build self-esteem.  Jake just finished a season of Upward football and I am grateful for the men and women that helped create lasting imprints on our children.  A specific person that is worthy of praise is one of Jake's coaches, and our friend of over 15 years, Coach Chip.

The first thing you notice about Chip is the fact that he towers over you standing 6 feet 7 inches tall.  He is never at a loss for words and can talk about anything and everything under the sun.  Chip has a razor sharp wit and sarcasm and never tires of teasing me and Christine...I admit we continue to give him great material.  I don't even try to retaliate because I know I have no shot of holding my own against the master of the one liner.  I always knew that he was a terrific Dad, but I had never seen him interact with other children.  On the playing field I saw an entirely different side of him (one that I am sure he wanted me to share freely with anyone reading my blog).  As he instructed the boys and girls on his team about the fundamentals of football, he illuminated many ways in which I could be a more powerful parent.

The first thing I noticed was that he genuinely loved the kids.  He was enthusiastic about the task at hand. He acted as if there was no where he would rather be than out on the field with his team.  He gave them undivided attention.  I loved when I would see him tap a kid on the back or ruffle their hair.  He saw them as individuals that he wanted to get to know during the time they were together.  I know it is not easy trying to get a group of 9 and 10 year olds to pay attention, but I never saw Chip lose his patience.  He demanded respect and corrected the kids when they needed to be, but he did all of this with an ease that comes from someone that is secure with his place as a leader.  Without a doubt the most powerful trait he displayed was encouragement.  It is easy to clap your hands and say good job to someone that is actually doing well.  But Chip found something praiseworthy to say to every child no matter what they did out on the field.  Once he had made them feel valued, it opened the door for him to teach so that the next time things might go better.  He was more intent on building confidence in these young people than executing a play to perfection.

My son Jake becomes frustrated when things don't come naturally.  He started the season having already decided he was not going to do well.  If he was out of the field and he dropped a pass or could not get to a flag his shoulders would slump and he would look to the ground with disappointment.  That was when I would hear Coach Chip pointing out all the things that he had done right.  Coach let him know right then and there that he was important and "stuff happens" but you gotta stay in the game.  Last week, Jake played quarterback.  Matt and I arrived at the church excited but nervous at the same time.  Half the time I don't even know what is going on, but I can share with you that Jake played with confidence and rose to the challenge.  When there was a mistake, instead of staring at the ground, he looked to Chip to tell him what he needed to do.  In a thank you note he gave to Chip he wrote, "you always encouraged me to be the best that I can be."

The world is going to constantly show our children their faults and weaknesses.  They desperately need parents, coaches, teachers, and friends that build them up.  I want to be more like Coach Chip.  I will show up and be passionate about the time I have with my children.  I can be patient as my boys struggle to navigate the rough roads ahead.  They will not always do the right thing, but I have to use those moments to teach them what they can do differently the next time.  I want to be a mother that knows her place in her family and is firm and fair.  I have not been called to be Jake and Grant's best friend.  My task is to raise two boys that will hopefully become Godly men.  Finally, I want to be a cheerleader that shouts praise over them so loudly that the negative influences fade away. I find myself being all too quick to point out what my children are doing wrong, but sometimes I forget to share with them the unique gifts that allow both of them to shine.

I don't think I will ever know what if feels like to cut down a net or have a bucket of Gatorade poured over me after a big win, but I have felt the thrill of victory.  I saw it on my son's face when he threw for a touchdown and the coach, and more importantly his Dad, congratulated him on a job well done.  Thanks Coach Chip for sharing your talents and glorifying God in the process.

Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.
-Proverbs 22:6 



PRAY BEFORE YOU PLAY!



DAILY PROTECTION

I hate my dishwasher.  Whenever I pull out the bottom basket to load the plates all four wheels fall to the floor and the entire thing comes off track.  A list of curse words go through my mind and sometimes I let out a scream while I search for the wheels and bend down to put them on the posts. I slide everything back into place and slam the door giving into the anger.

Whenever I am trying to make the beds I can never seem to get the fitted sheet on.  I put on the top right side and then move to the bottom left only to discover that it won't reach.  Silly me...I take the entire thing off and turn it around and try again, but somehow I seem to be back to where I started.  Maybe I need to begin at the bottom left and go to the top right...no that still does not work.  Okay...I will put both top ones on and then move to the bottom...almost got it...think this is it.  What IS going on...is this even the right size sheet?

This past weekend we purchased a new cabinet for our television.  We paid to have it put together and everything looked great...that was until the cable guy opened the door to put the box inside and one of the hinges broke right off.  The cabinet that only hours before was beautiful now represented everything that was wrong in my world.  Now, as I walk by, I see the one door just kind of hanging there useless and walk away in disgust.

I have openly shared with you some of the enormous challenges I have faced in my life, but sometimes it is the everyday aggravations that make it impossible to keep our peace.  Being stuck in traffic, waiting an hour for an appointment, stubbing your toe, breaking your nail, or burning your dinner.  All of these annoyances result in little cracks in our armor and leave us unprotected.  Then when we are faced with a life changing issue we wonder why we cannot muster the strength to do battle.  We are weary soldiers trudging through each day...but do we even know what we are fighting for?

We will never be able to enjoy our lives if we allow insignificant problems to eat away at our spirit.  Each morning, I allow God's grace to wash over me. I vow to forget the failures of yesterday and expect good things to happen in the new day.  I choose to dwell on the positive possibilities.  As soon as I get out of bed,  I find a million reasons to lose my joy. Some days I just want to crawl back under the covers, but I remind myself that "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me..."  Every once in awhile the hours unfold effortlessly and I live with a confidence and ease.  But regardless of my circumstances, I am never alone.   In the midst of the conflicts I face, I must become a warrior.  Although I may lose a few battles... in the end there will be victory.

But you are a shield around me, O Lord...
Psalm 3:3

BOO!

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.                                                                                        -Ambrose Redmoon


How appropriate to be thinking about the feeling of fear on Halloween.  No matter how hard I try the list of things that fill me with terror continue to grow.  Loving individuals sent positive thoughts while I was going through cancer treatment and the one above kept popping up over and over.  I would never dream of calling myself a courageous person, but this quote made me rethink the concept.

We live in a scary world.  Watch the news, read the paper, or chat with a neighbor and you are probably going to walk away a little shaken up.  Darkness is all around us, therefore we have to make a conscious decision to seek what is good.  Sitting across from a doctor telling me the horrors that were to come made my spirit tremble.  Looking at an MRI of my precious child's brain and hearing he will face a lifetime of challenges filled me with anxiety and dread.  Watching my cherished father leave this world left a scar on my heart that I doubted would ever heal.  I cannot pretend these horrible events did not occur, but must I face each day waiting for the next nightmare to begin?

When I experience panic I have learned to stand firm in something that I hold in such high esteem that a shadow is cast over the fear.  My faith and relationship with God allows me to work through my personal battles and discover the courage I desperately need.   2 Timothy 1:7 says...For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.   I have learned that God's strength is made perfect through my weakness, therefore through Him I have what I need to get through the tough stuff.   Some mornings I wake up and the heaviness sets in and I have to talk myself into feeling powerful, loved, and discriplined.

Next time you feel like you are in one of those horror movies where you are running wildly, screaming, and glancing behind you to see if the monster is gaining ground....take my advice...STOP!   Even if you cannot get rid of the creepy feeling entirely, decide that you can find the courage to not just survive but to conquer.

Happy Halloween......

A TIME FOR CHANGE

Yesterday I went to my 5 year checkup with my doctor with a list of complaints/worries to address with him.  There has to be a pill, patch, or elixir he can prescribe to take away all my discomfort and bring peace and wholeness to my existence.  I knew I was in trouble when the nurse started reading through some of the notes from my last appointment three months ago. 

Nurse:  Have you been taking your vitamin D and calcium daily?
Me:      Can you remind me again how much I am supposed to be taking?

Nurse:   How is the meditation and yoga working to control the anxiety and hot flashes?
Me:       I have been meaning to start that program...have read many articles about the benefits.

Nurse:   Is the Melatonin helping you sleep?
Me:       I have been sleeping horribly, but have not tried that supplement yet.

Nurse:  You have been exercising and eating well, right?
Me:      My kids have been out of school but now that they are back I can get right on that goal.

By the time Dr. Marcom walked into the office I openly admitted that I had done very little of the things that he had suggested. There is only one reason that I can come up with to explain my noncompliance...change is hard.  Maybe it is part of our genetic blueprint, but I see the inability to practice self care in many of my friends.  We wonder why we are so tired, depressed, anxious, and overwhelmed but refuse to invest in our own well being.  We willingly spend money on the outside package.  New clothes for every season, manicure, highlights for our hair, and makeup to give us a fake glow.  Our bodies and souls are crying out to be nurtured.  I have the tools and time but not even a diagnosis of cancer has made me alter some of the destructive habits in my life.  Nobody can make you stop and recognize the damage that you are doing to yourself, but what if we embarked on this path of change together?

Let's pick one thing we are going to do in the month of November that is going to bring some balance to our lives.  Here are some suggestions....exercise three times a week, read an inspirational book, go to bed an hour earlier, start taking vitamins, stop drinking soda, read your bible daily, establish a prayer time.....the list goes on and on.  We have to live with intention and decide here and now that altering our attitude can greatly influence our actions.  I grow weary of complaining, trudging through the day, having little patience for my children, and waiting for the 8:00 hour to come when I can rest.  Christine and I prayed this morning about not letting our circumstances dictate how we lived.  Make up your mind that you are worth the effort and there is nothing that will get in the way of you making this one small change.

Okay...so I will let you know what mine is going to be.  I don't want to to do it but I am going to begin to use meditation and yoga to battle these hormonal symptoms I am experiencing.  I have no problem jumping on a treadmill or lifting a weight but it just seems like such a waste of time to practice breathing.  I have trouble with anxiety but would rather pop a pill to mask the symptoms than listen to my body and what it is trying to tell me...ugh!  I promise to share my new adventure into the world of mindfulness ...I am a little scared to see what has been hiding up there all these years buried under the craziness.

Let me know what you are planning to do for yourself in November so I won't feel alone.  Be strong and take care of yourself.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.

How about a little restoration?

THANK YOU LEE

I vividly recall my Mom sitting in a wheelchair holding a tiny bundle in her arms.  She motioned for me to come forward and meet my little sister, but I was far too filled with fear and uncertainty to move.  Once the new baby was settled at home, however, I fell in love with her.  Since I was 8 years older than Lee, our relationship was a combination big sister and mother rolled into one.  As a child LeeAnn sparkled with energy, creativity, and joy. We would spend hours playing in the imaginary worlds that she would create.  My youth would have been dull were it not for her magical gifts and through the years her spirit would continue to support my family.

We sat huddled on the bed together unable to comprehend how to move on without him.  The house was a whirlwind of activity as plans were made for the events of grieving.  I held her and promised that she would never be alone.  Hallow words coming from a 20 year old girl that had no idea how the future would unfold. I desperately wanted to be the caretaker that could ease the pain of those I loved.  The little girl that I vowed to protect would be the very person that would carry ME through my battles.

In 2005, LeeAnn was working as a teacher in New York and had just become engaged to her boyfriend Beau.  After years of celebrating marriages and the births of her nephews and niece, it was finally her time to take the spotlight.  I am ashamed that I never hesitated before I asked Lee to leave her job and Beau to come take care of me for the three months that I would endure cancer treatment.  My oldest son, Jake, was just starting kindergarten. Grant was almost 3, but still could not walk and had therapy several times a week.  Both of them needed a full time Mom and I doubted I would be able to even take care of myself.  During a phone conversation I cried out to my sister, "I need you," and so she pushed aside her world and came to hold up mine.

You will have to wait for my book to be published to read about our three months together.  In an instant LeeAnn had to become a nurse, mother, counselor, chef, housewife, friend, and angel.  I would love to hear her account of our time together...but I will tell you from my point of view I was a HORRIBLE patient.  In the morning, as she got the kids ready for school, I would call out from my bed and criticize the outfits she had put on the children.  I had to remind her how to comb their hair, to vacuum the carpet if a crumb fell on the floor, and when to make the perfect snack that would settle my stomach during chemo.  I am laughing as I am writing this because the only way that Lee and Matt could make it through the day would be to drink large amounts of red wine and trade stories about "the patient."

There were moments that were so raw and precious that I shiver just thinking about them.  Sitting on the cold bathroom floor while she held me as Matt shaved my head.  I was extremely self-conscious about anyone seeing my scarred chest or bald head.  One day as we sat waiting for the oncologist she looked at me from the across the room and whispered, "you are beautiful."  Perhaps the best gift she brought to me was her soon to be husband Beau.  It would be impossible to detail the mysteries of Bo Bo with a short blog...but there has always been an ease and comfort that I feel in his presence.  When he would come to visit laughter would fill my home and I felt more alive than I had in months.  Both of them poured out their love and cared for my children in a way that enabled all of us to feel safe.  In the darkest moments of my life, my sister fed my soul and helped bring me back from the brink of disaster.

My sister is one of the most fascinating people I have ever met.  We are alike in many ways but different enough to keep me guessing about her next move.  I admire so many things about her but what I treasure the most is the fact that she is.... REAL.  She wakes up in the morning and washes her face puts on some gloss and leaves her curly hair to dry naturally.  That smile wins you over as she slowly draws you closer.   Her flaws are not hidden from anyone but only serve to add color and depth to her brilliance.  She loves to argue, is obsessed with food (especially pork), and can find the dramatic element in even the most mundane of activities.  When I am in her presence I simply want to be cuddled and mothered.   I love LeeAnn because she is my little sister, but I thank God for the little angel that has always been MY protector.




The Dynamic Duo of Lee and Beau Beau



My sister and me





  

WHAT'S UP DOC?

I hated the crowded waiting room.  If you were sitting there you either had cancer yourself or loved someone that was facing the disease. I would pass the time reading books, magazines, the bible...anything that could transport my mind.  My Mom usually came to the appointments with me and she had a wonderful ability to fill the hours with entertaining stories about nothing important.  Most of the first visits were a blur. The doctors could have been speaking another language.  I looked at their detached faces and surmised that I was just another statistic- they were simply doing their job.  In the months to come, however, I discovered that each of them would stand beside me as we went to battle together.

The men and woman that cared for me provided the perfect balance of truth, guidance, strength, and understanding.  Dr. Leight, my surgeon, looked more like a retired athlete than a doctor.  If he would only crack a joke or smile I could pretend that we were not speaking about removing my breasts.  As months passed, I grew to appreciate the calm strength that he brought to my world.  Dr. Coniglio was the physician's assistant to my oncologist.  Talking to him was like listening to a beautiful love sonnet.  During our visits, he had a way of weaving stories about his family, former patients, and my own health issues that touched my heart. Dr. Zenn is my plastic surgeon...and he is such a character. I did meet him when I first was diagnosed, but I did not undergo reconstruction until I was healed from my other surgery and treatment.  Seeing Dr. Zenn and his nurse Jo Ann was like watching a movie starring academy award winning actors.  He is definitely the smooth talking, cool leading man and she is the best friend you want to chat with over a glass of wine.  I will never forget driving from the hospital  after my last visit with Dr. Zenn realizing he had given me back a piece of myself.   

It is truly an impossible task to try to capture my journey with my oncologist, Dr. Kelly Marcom.  He was the man that prescribed the course of treatment I would have to endure. On his laptop he created a survival pie chart that used studies to predict how long I could possibly live depending on certain medical intervention.  I hung on his every word and then dissected them again when I was at home.  Sometimes I would ask him the same question several different ways to try to trip him up. He was my life preserver when I felt like I was going under. I wish I could tell you that I was courageous and battled like a true champion, but in case Dr. Marcom ever writes a tell all book I better just be honest here and now... I was a pathetic mess.  All I did was cry during every appointment...no matter what he said to me I had made up my mind that there was no hope.  Dr. Marcom was at Duke when my father received treatment and is the Director of the Hereditary Cancer Clinic.  There is no doubt in my mind that I would not be writing these words today if it were not for his knowledge and expertise.

Dr. Marcom has tried his best to get me under control over the past 5 years, but anyone that knows me well understands that impossible task.  One particular appointment I was in the middle of one of my emotional ramblings and he spoke the words that have altered my perspective.  He said, "Jamie right now cancer is like a ferocious lion.  You feel it behind you, breathing down your neck, and ready to pounce and devour you at any moment.  It is my job as your doctor to put that lion in a cage.  I can never take it out of your life completely, but it will be behind bars unable to hurt you."   The fear did not leave me instantly, but Dr. Marcom delivered on his promise.  He has been there during the ups and downs never once leaving me alone.   Most of my days are filled with the magical feeling that comes with simply living, but sometimes I hear the distant roars of that horrible beast and I begin to shake.  Instead of running to an unreliable source, I turn to the one that always tells me "like it is."  He now understands all my tricks and refuses to buy into the crazy world of Jamie Howard cancer patient.  We live in the moment always taking that next best step that keeps me moving toward healing.

Thank you does not even come close to capturing the gratitude I feel for my doctors.  The only thing I know to do for them is to try my best to live the life God intended for me.  These caring individuals have taught me that we are not meant to walk our paths in solitude.  No matter how strong and independent you are there will come a time when you need to reach out to someone for help.  All at once my world came tumbling down and friends, family, doctors, prayer warriors, and neighbors refused to let me throw in the towel.  Today, I can hardly make out those familiar growls above the sounds of celebration.



What do you need to put behind bars?



THE MANE EVENT

I admit that I loved the '80's.  The music, the clothes, and most of all the HAIR.  In my imagination I was the queen of the jungle with my wild mane of permed and teased tresses.  You might be thinking that was the style of the decade, but I had a hard time letting go and was sporting the same hairdo in 2005.  The thought of losing my hair to chemotherapy was frightening not only because I would be bald, but because so much of my identity was wrapped up in that mess. 

The doctor told me that my hair would fall out after the third treatment.  I remember going to the barber shop with my Dad when he decided to shave his head completely.  My Dad was never one to follow the rules, and in true Jim Valvano fashion instead of his hair falling out it started growing back during his treatments.  Secretly I hoped that would be the case for me, but each morning I noticed more strands on my pillow and less on my head.  My Mom, sister Lee, and I had gone to a local wig shop and purchased two wigs, hats, and scarves.  I had a long version of curly hair that resembled my old hair and also a short one that made me look like a punk rocker.  I could not take the waiting any longer, and so one evening I sat on the bathroom floor with a towel in front of me and Lee whispering words of comfort into my ear while Matt shaved my head.  Honestly, I have a nice shaped head.  If I had decided to lose the hair as a fashion statement it might have been okay, but the realization that this was one more thing that cancer was taking from me resulted in a much deeper wound.

Most of the time I wore caps that I had ordered from a cancer catalog.  The wigs were hot an itchy and I never felt comfortable wearing them.  My older sister Nicole invited me and the kids to the mall one day. Trying my best to capture the old Jamie I got dressed, put on makeup, and wore the long, curly wig to complete my look.  Being around the children always made me feel better because I could escape into their world of innocence.  As I sat eating lunch at the food court with my family I almost felt like this was a normal day and I began to relax and enjoy myself.  A man stopped by the table to greet my sister and they began chatting.  It turned out he worked with my brother-in-law and Nicole introduced us and as we shook hands my nephew decided that more explanation was needed.  Between burger bites he simply stated, "that is not my Jommie's (his name for me) real hair.  She is wearing a wig."  So much for flying under the radar.  Unsure of the appropriate response, the poor man just mumbled something and shuffled away.  Nicole and I looked at each other and laughed until our stomachs hurt.  Pete is almost 10 years old now, but time has not changed the fact that you never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

Laughter is truly the best medicine.  I left the mall that day feeling more alive and free than I had in a long time.   5 years later, I am still not used to my short, straight hair.  I long for the days that it took me an hour to style in the morning. I now understand that I was hiding behind many things in my life because I did not want the world to see the real me.  When I look at pictures of myself today I see my smile and a depth in my eyes that only comes from walking in the truth.  I don't have the energy to pretend any longer.  Just like Pete did that day when he called out something that wasn't real, I desire for God to reveal to me anything in my world that is false.  I am learning to embrace what IS rather than spending all my time wishing for things to be different. I carry that bald woman inside of me each and every moment...she was a warrior...she was beautiful...she was just plain old Aunt Jommie in a wig...she was loved.

100 MILLION REASONS TO BELIEVE

I remember when my father was diagnosed with cancer.  I was 20 years old and had just completed my sophomore year in college.  I left school so that I could spend time with my family.  We all thought that with my father's grim diagnosis he would spend his days at home surrounded by loved ones, but we severely underestimated him.  As his body grew weaker his spirit soared.  He never wasted a day asking the question, "why me?"  But instead, he thought to himself, "why not me?"  Why can't I use my voice to make a difference so that something good can come from my suffering?  And so he shared his struggle with anyone that would listen.

I was in the audience when he announced the establishment of The V Foundation at the inaugural  ESPY Awards.  He was weak and in pain and we doubted that he would be able to make it on stage.  He not only was able to accept the Arthur Ashe Courage Award, but he delivered the speech he was born to give.  He shared his spirit and essence with the world and inspired us all.  I sat there as a grieving daughter and the words just washed over me.  As he was helped back to his seat, he leaned over and whispered..."Did I do okay?"  I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time as I reassured him.

13 years later, I sat in my kitchen holding my bald head in my hands as I wept.  I had become my worst nightmare....a cancer patient.  My mother was making me something to eat and trying to encourage me not to lose heart.  My sister LeeAnn had left her life in New York to come care for my two small children.  The hardest part was the anger I felt toward my father.  I had inherited a genetic mutation from him that made me more susceptible to breast cancer and many other forms of the disease.  I thought he had left me alone when I needed him most.  As I sat there having my own pity party, I heard my father's voice as clear as if he were in the room with me.  He said, "We are starting The V Foundation for Cancer Research.  It may not save my life, it may save my children's lives, it may save someone you love."  In that instant, I realized that my Dad had not deserted me.  I had been given a second chance to live...one that he did not receive.  He knew that they key to saving lives was to fund cancer research.  He started The V Foundation for me and anyone facing this disease.

Perhaps you have not been personally touched by cancer, however anyone reading my words is a survivor. Suffering is an inescapable part of the human condition. I have discovered that through our pain we can experience miracles.  Through darkness we can find light.  My father showed me that there is a plan and a divine purpose for each of our lives.  When I start to doubt or fear I think about The V Foundation and I am reminded that there are:

100 million reasons to not give up
100 million reasons to hope
100 million reasons to believe in a world without cancer

Check out http://www.jimmyv.org/ to listen to the ESPY speech and see firsthand what has been done with the $100 million that has been raised because one man refused to give up.

March 4, 1993
Inaugural ESPY Awards

THE NOTE CARD

I have lists everywhere of items I need to buy, phone calls to make, things to do and not to do, and reminders for my forgetful chemo brain.  Most of the time the scraps of paper end up in the bottom of my purse never to be thought about again.  Whenever I find one of them I always smile thinking about my Dad and his amazing index card.

My Dad's mind was constantly whirling and so he would write down his never ending thoughts and put them in his pocket.  Whenever my Mom would do the laundry she would find all of his tattered notes.  As a teenage boy growing up in Long Island, New York he jotted down the things he hoped to accomplish in the years to come.  He wanted to play basketball in high school and college, become an assistant coach then obtain a head coaching position, win a big game in Madison Square Garden, and finally cut down the nets after winning a National Championship.  He did not just wish and pray these things would come true but he worked hard everyday to make his dreams become a reality.  He carried his list on a note card to serve as a tangible reminder of where he was headed. 

In 1983, my Dad lead his underdog North Carolina State Wolfpack to the NCAA title game and was able to cut down the nets.  My Mom took my sister and I out to the concessions because she could not stand to watch the last seconds of a close game.  We never actually saw my Dad running around the court like a crazy person, but we relive that magical moment whenever we see replays of the game.  People still come up to me today and tell me where they were when Lorenzo Charles dunked in that last second shot.  At the age of 36, my father could take out his notecard and check off every single one of those goals...been there done that.  In my 38 years of living I have filled thousands of notecards with my musings but very few have ever come to pass.  Jim Valvano certainly serves as an example of the what can happen in our lives when we combine a personal vision with determination and passion. 

As a young girl, my Dad was my hero and I had no idea that in such a short amount of time my Superman would meet his kryptonite.

Cutting down the nets!!!

A SYMBOL OF HOPE

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Anyone that has been touched by this disease does not need a reminder to remember. When hard times come into our lives it is only human to want it over and done with quickly.  When faced with pain, I find myself running as fast as I can trying to leave the nightmares behind.  What if the only way to learn the lessons that life is meant to teach us is to slow down and listen? I don't want to have to face the same test over and over never gaining anything from the hardship.  So I have decided this month to take some time to become "aware" of how cancer has changed me. 

Growing up there were distant relatives that had been diagnosed with cancer, but it was not something that was discussed.  I never feared the disease or imagined it would play such a significant role in my world.  In the summer of 1992, my father was diagnosed with cancer and given a year to live.  He was young, vibrant, and lived with such passion.  I left college and spent the last 10 months of his life soaking up his magic.  I promise to share more of his journey in the days ahead.  You will be inspired by his divine legacy.  I returned to college, graduated, married, worked for a few years, gave birth to two beautiful boys, and then came the lump that would change everything.  In 2005, at the age of 33, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Because of my family history genetic testing was performed and it was discovered I had inherited a mutation from my father known as BRAC II.  Both my sisters were tested and thank goodness neither of them had the mutation.  Because of the risk I carried my doctors suggested an aggressive approach to treating my cancer.  I had my last and what I hope will be my final surgery in December of 2009.  Although I pray that my treatment is behind me, the healing continues. 

Since my diagnosis October has been a hard month for me.  I am so thankful that people are working hard to raise money for breast cancer research, but seeing that ribbon everywhere makes it hard for me to escape my reality.  I have left many stores wanting to scream so that someone would acknowledge my despair.  Doctors tell you that you become a survivor the minute you are diagnosed with a particular disease.  I have to be honest in admitting that I never embraced that sentiment.  I have been pissed off, ashamed, hopeless, lost, afraid...you name it I have felt it.  Because I welcomed destructive emotions and made them feel at home in my soul it has been hard to get rid of those horrid guests.  And so when I turned the page of my calender and discovered October was here again I braced myself  for the despair.  Something has changed inside of me because when I spotted that dreadful ribbon the other day I felt an unfamiliar stirring and struggled to name it.  Was it, could it be, no way, it is....HOPE.  Letting go of the anguish has allowed me to embrace a new way of viewing this beautiful symbol.  Not only during the month of October, but for the rest of my life I will stand firm beside the millions of people that have been forever changed by our common foe.

CAN DO ATTITUDE

I am a dreamer and I can come up with a million magical ideas.  I spend hours making plans, lists, and rambling on about my visions.  The energy flows though me and I feel so powerful and alive...that is until I actually have to do something.  The ability to imagine greatness is a gift, but eventually I have to put things in motion and that is when I fall apart.   


We all need someone in our world that sees through the BS.  Sure it's great to have a cheerleader in your corner, but eventually they will tire of shouting for you if you never actually get in the game.  My friend Christine is a doer.  I call her MacGyver after that television character that could build a bomb out of a piece of chewing gum and string.  I have not found much that Teen cannot accomplish.  I have come to the conclusion that I am her daily Sudoku puzzle or Rubik's cube.  Solving my complex dilemmas keeps her mentally sharp.  Sometimes I hate that she knows me so well and I often get a little testy because she is right like 99.9% of the time.  She sees in me qualities that have yet to come to the surface and pushes me to stretch beyond my self imposed limits.  Whenever I am whining about having too much to do she quietly says, "Jamie you can do more than one thing at a time."  I am always making excuses about why I cannot fit this or that into my jam packed schedule and she whispers, "If you REALLY wanted to do it you would find a way."  When I was having a hard time staying focused I made a list of all I wanted to get done in the weeks ahead and emailed it to her.  Every so often she would gently remind me of what had not been completed.  Just last week we were able to celebrate because the last task had been checked off (just to let you know there were only 10 things I needed to do...).  At this very moment you probably are wondering why the heck she is my friend.  Sometimes you just have to accept your good fortune and don't ask questions. 

We all need friends and each one of them bless our lives in different ways.  Surround yourself with people that bring out the best in you.  Individuals that love you for who you are and encourage you to be all that you can be (no I am not asking you to enlist in the Army).  I am done beating myself up for my shortcomings.  I have a mental Rolodex in my mind that I shuffle through whenever I need some help.  When I need to get moving I use my secret weapon named Teen Teen to hold me accountable.  Need a prayer...call on my friends Heidi or Lisa.  Trying to solve an issue with the children...LeeAnn and Beau to the rescue.  Laughter and girl bonding...Laura and Chrissy are right around the corner.    A walking partner that always puts a smile on my face...have no fear Jen is here.  Last but not least my partner in everything...big sis Nicole can always talk me down from the ledge.  The list goes on and on of people that enrich my world in countless ways. 

Take a look around you...when you are faced with a battle make sure the people that you bring to the front line have your back. 

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me....Philippians 4:13

DANCING IN THE RAIN

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS IT'S ABOUT LEARNING TO DANCE IN THE RAIN....

A heavy rain was falling last night as we stood on the front porch watching the droplets being emptied onto the earth.  Grant began to giggle as the wind blew a fine mist into his face.  He took a few tentative steps out from under the covering of the roof only to make a quick retreat. The look of simple pleasure on his face made us feel we were witnessing something magical.  Jake coaxed him down the steps and he opened his mouth to catch the moisture on his tongue.  He held out his hands palms facing towards the sky as he soaked in the water like a thirsty flower.  In a flash the boys were running around the yard jumping into puddles with pure abandonement.  There might have been a time when I would have worried about them getting dirty, sick, or tracking water into the house...but now I watched their joy and was filled with awe.  Oh how I wish I could have bottled that moment to serve as a reminder that storms come and go but we CAN choose how to live in the midst of the struggle.

Are you experiencing a storm in your own life?  Do pain and worry weigh so heavily on you that you wonder how to survive?  Maybe nothing that serious is swirling around, but you are just sort of existing without passion and delight.  I do believe that miraculous healing and instant solutions can occur in the blink of an eye.  Many times, however, we have to walk through the trial.  The lessons we learn as we travel the rocky road strengthen our faith and reveal deeper lessons that were once hidden.  We don't have to move forward with our head down refusing to smile until we get our breakthrough.  Adopt the posture that Grant so perfectly revealed to me.  Look toward the heavens, close your eyes, surrender your will, and be cleansed by grace.  Don't worry about getting wet or dirty...life is messy.  Find someone that will dance and splash with you though life's tempests. Make up your mind that you will not give up until you see the beautiful rainbow on the other side.



My Puddle Jumpers



ALL ABOUT ME

Recently someone I love questioned why I would want to put my "dirty laundry" on the Internet for all to read.  Do I believe I am somebody special and therefore deserve your attention?  Perhaps I need the praise from other people to feel good about myself?  Maybe I am just lonely.  All of these are plausible incentives for my blogging. But I hope that you will consider that there is a deeper personal reason for me opening up my very soul to you. 

I look around and see a hurting world.  People in need of encouragement, hope, and a sense that they are not alone.  There have been numerous times in the past 38 years when I have been brought to my knees and simply screamed out to God, "why me?"  In an effort to make sense of the senseless I pray, read the bible, talk to friends and family, and I write.  Putting the deepest desires and questions of my heart into words somehow allows me to be free. 

One of the women in my cancer support group suggested that I adopt a mantra or chant that I can repeat in my mind when fear overcomes me.  Waiting for a doctor to give me a diagnosis, trying to relax in the MRI torture chamber, or sitting in a chair while the chemotherapy dripped into my veins all proved to me that I desperately needed to escape reality and soar to a different place.  I love every word in Psalm 118...and this one sentence began to direct my every step:

I will not die but live, and proclaim what the Lord has done. 

I am alive today and now it is time for me to share with anyone that is willing to listen what I have learned during my journey.  It does not matter if anyone reads my words or is even touched by the sentiment.  I am being obedient...plain and simple.  My family always teases me because I have a horrible habit of making everything about me.  Each of us views the world through our own eyes but I am working hard to catch eternal glimpses through my daily walk.  Although it certainly would seem that my posts are all about me, I pray that through my experiences you see that I am not the one in control. 

He will always light our path....

GOD MEMO

My sister has a friend that uses the term "God Memo" to describe a moment when you feel like God is speaking directly to you.  I am sorry if you find this post over the top, but I have to share.  I feel like Moses in the desert seeing the burning bush and walking on holy ground.  Except I am just me (not a great prophet) and God spoke directly to me through a copier machine at Kinkos...but those are just minor details.

This poor elderly gentleman was taking forever at the only black and white copier in service.  He had no idea what he was doing and I waited not so patiently for my turn.  Once he was finished making his five copies he paid and walked out into the sunlight of the day.  I noticed he had left a copy behind in the machine and walked over to throw it away, but something made me stop and read it (is that wrong?). I cannot speak to the authenticity of this letter, but I have been forever touched by the spirit expressed through the words.  As a mother of two boys it captures perfectly what is in my heart for them.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent.  I apologize if anyone feels this is an invasion of privacy. 

Hello Christian,

I am so glad to have the opportunity to write you this little note and put together this book for you. 

First of all, I would like to say HAPPY 13TH BIRTHDAY!!!....You are now officially a teenager and growing steadily into manhood.

I want to say that I am very proud of you Christian and I am soooooo happy to have you as my son.  In my heart I always wanted a son and the Lord was gracious enough to give me one and for that I am truly grateful.

I am not just proud of you for the things that you do or don't do...I am proud of you just because you are you...nothing more, nothing less.  You are an extremely kind person with a big heart full of love and compassion toward people...You get that from your mom....I could not have asked for a better son than you Christian.

Now that you are getting older, I didn't want to just give you something that I could buy at the store but rather something that you could use and take with you for the rest of your life....something that you could meditate on in the good and bad times that would bring you joy and victory in life.

So, I decided to write you a few prayers that you could read from time to time.  Christian, as life goes on you will face many temptations, challenges, and situations that can make a big difference in your life dependent upon how you handle them.  I want to make sure you make Godly decisions.

In the book of Psalm 119:9 it says, "How can a young person stay pure?  By obeying your word."  Where can you find the strength and wisdom to face life's challenges?  By reading God's Word and doing what it says.  Christian, if you follow those instructions I can GUARANTEE you that you will without a doubt have a successful life and most importantly...you will please Jesus Christ which is the greatest thing you could ever do.  Having a personal relationship with the Lord is the foundation of life itself and will assure you of unspeakable joy deep down on the inside.

In this book you will find some prayers that deal with your personal identity in Jesus.  Two of the most important things in life that you must know is that first...God loves you unconditionally with a love that is beyond human comprehension and second God wants you to know who you are in His eyes.  Christian, you are a king, a royal priesthood, a son of God, and friend of God.

Christian, I ask that you would look over these prayers and pray them either verbatim or create your own personal prayers to the Lord. He loves you and wants to know your deepest feelings so never be shy in communing with Him.  God is for you and will NEVER    leave you or forsake you.  He cares about EVERY single facet of your life and nothing is ever too big or too small for Him to handle.  Christian, God wants to develop you into a great Man of God.

As your Dad, I just want you to know that I love you with all my heart and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.  I believe in you and I believe that you have greatness inside of you.  I believe that you can achieve ANYTHING  in life that you desire if you trust in the Lord to help you fulfill that goal.  You were put here on earth to fulfill God's will and do some great things.  From the time you were born I knew that God had His hand on your life and has great plans for you to ultimately glorify His name.  So Christian, open up your heart to the Lord and let Him fill you with His love until it overflows.

I Love You Big Guy,

Daddy

We love our boys!