6 Good Things

It's summer, and my blog has been pretty quiet, so I set out to highlight five good things happening in my neck of the woods. As I got writing, I couldn't stop at five, so here's six.

1. I have a high school graduate.

Yes, it's been about a month, and I think I've almost recovered from all the activities surrounding this milestone. We had family come in to help celebrate the graduation.They lovingly sat through the reading of over 400 names, too, as each graduate walked across the stage at the Xfinity arena. Becca, because she was a senior class officer, was the fifth to cross the stage. Then, she came in at the end to read part of a send-off poem before the traditional tassel turn and cap toss. For people who are used to East Coast time, they did admirably well. Becca looked stunning in her cap and gown, and I was amazed at her stage presence before the thousands in the arena.

Then our Florida family departed, I switched out bedding and did loads of laundry, and then began preparing for the grad party. The act of prepping, buying and serving food for an unknown number of guests was a bit daunting. Enter my two sisters and aunt to save the day! They baked and frosted, shopped, cleaned and decorated. Patty and Cindy worked tirelessly, while Aunt Enie was the voice of reason: "It'll work out."

 Aunt Enie having fun
 in the backyard

And it did, splendidly. We set up a taco bar with all the fixins, lots of desserts and candy, and filled coolers full of beverages. Becca's friends and our friends came. It was the first time so many people who I didn't know showed up at my house. Becca did a marvelous job floating between the adults and the kids. It was a memorable evening, and I have about 365 days before embarking on it again when we celebrate Nathan's graduation.

 I have notes in my head and soon to be on paper of what I liked and plan to do differently next year (Keep it Simple, Silly!). Next year I won't be able to rely on the able hands of my sister who will be planning her son's wedding next June. But as Scarlett would have said, "I'll think about that tomorrow!" Or better yet, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." Matthew 6:34

Patty, Cindy and Aunt Enie taking a well-deserved break

Many hands created this beautiful buffet

2. Nathan travelled to Haiti and back.

In the midst of all the graduation excitement, Nathan was left mostly on his own to prepare for a 10-day mission trip to Haiti with other youth from our church. I did have his packing list, and a few times when I was shopping for graduation party items, I checked off a few items from his list. Bug spray with deet. Another water bottle. Camp towel. Travel size shampoo and lotions. Of course,  a few of the items became lost in the flurry of prepping for a large party, but Nathan in his calm, level-headed way borrowed shampoo from one of his teammates without saying a word to me after I insisted it was in the bag I gave him. Several days after he returned, I found the shampoo and a few other items I carefully picked up for him in the bottom of a shopping bag. We are still looking for where I might have stashed his Chick-Fil-A gift card during our decorating and cleaning frenzy. 

Back to Haiti. Nathan had an amazing time. His heart will never be the same. He said the people are so welcoming, yet he was impacted by the poverty and crowds. They spent a lot of time in an orphanage and ran a VBS for the local church. Nathan even volunteered to share his testimony and teach from God's word during the Sunday service. His whole theme for this trip was breaking out of his carefully crafted comfort zones, and he took every opportunity presented him to do so.

Nathan loved the children

Nathan and his youth pastor, Brookes, pouring over scripture in preparation for sharing God's truth to the Haitian people

3. I love the library.

At the beginning of May, I started a part-time job at my neighborhood library. The first month was filled with training and paperwork and uncertainty, so when I was asked how it was going, my reply was "pretty good, I guess." We were adjusting to me being outside the house, having three drivers and only one car and the varied work hours, including weekends and evenings.  But now that I've been at the job for over a month (only 15 hours a week), I am feeling extremely thankful. The other day, as I drove away from the library, I caught myself thinking, "I can't believe I work at a library!"

Since the bookmobile pulled up for the first time in my small Wisconsin hometown, I have loved libraries. In my single days when I worked in downtown Seattle, I spent many lunch hours wandering the stacks of the nearby metropolitan library. When my kids were little, we participated in all the storytimes, the summer programs, the reading programs. As we home schooled, we were often at the library or utilizing its online databases doing research. In fact, it was during a special program on research I set up for the middle school English homeschoolers in our co-op that I got the idea of trying to find part time work there when I no longer homeschooled Ben.

Now, the library is my employer and I love it. I love helping the young mom with her wide-eyed child get a library card for the first time. I love helping the older folks who are uncomfortable with technology, showing them how to use a library computer, or placing holds for them. Young kids come up to the desk to ask if we have a certain title, and then I get to guide them to how to find it on the shelf. Most of the usual customers have noticed I'm new and introduce themselves. One man in his thirties received a library card for the first time in so long he didn't remember, and he was amazed at the amount of items available to him. I also love checking in books, shelving the books people put on hold, and finding items from the shelves people request. 

Since I was young and packed up a huge bag of books to read on a sunny summer day, I have felt at home in the library. Now I get paid to go there and open the world to others who also love the library.  

4. Listening to podcasts is one of my favorite things.

I've spoken about this before, but have you joined the podcast bandwagon? I'll listen to a memoir or novel on overdrive (from the library, of course) but for a quick pick me up while suffering through a boring task, podcasts can't be beat. As I walked today, I listened to one of my favorites, The Happy Hour with Jamie Ivey. Today her guest was Lisa Harper. Run, don't walk, and download this episode now! Happy Hour with Jamie Ivey

All you need to do is click on the above link and you can listen on your computer. Or, you can go to itunes and download episode #148 of Happy Hour with Jamie Ivey.

Enough said. You can thank me later!

5. I chose to trust God.
My dear, nodule-ridden thyroid which has taken a backseat to, as my endocrinologist called my breast cancer, "the elephant in the room," decided to take center stage this week. At least for a few days. Some of you may recall that prior to my breast cancer diagnosis, I had several nodules on  my thyroid biopsied. When the report showed benign, I let go of the pent up air I didn't realized I was holding and breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have cancer. Later I did have cancer, but it was in the breast and you all know what happened through that.

Every six months I still go in for monitoring of my thyroid. My doctor feels the thyroid, takes a blood test and sends a letter that I'm still in the normal range for thyroid hormones. This time he sent me for an ultrasound because new studies have indicated that sometimes benign nodules can turn cancerous.

The ultrasound showed some growth in two of the nodules and he wanted to biopsy them again. As he showed me one nodule in particular and he indicated a starry area, my thoughts went back to the radiologist indicating some "calcification" in an area of my breast five years ago.

As I lay back for him to insert the fine needle into my neck, I chose to trust God. He would have the best plan. It may not be one I would choose, but I would trust His goodness in it.

A few minutes later and a v-shaped bandage covering my neck, I drove home through rush hour traffic. There was nothing I could do but trust God. Trusting, I'll tell you, is hard work. But it is so much better than the alternative, worrying.

Wednesday morning, the day my doctor promised the results would be in, I saw a sort of familiar number pop up on my phone. I sensed it was the doctor, but I wasn't ready to hear the news. Not yet. I bowed my head, my heart beating wildly, and remembered how it felt prior to receiving my breast cancer news. Then I whispered the words that calmed my fears, "I choose to trust you, Lord." I pulled up my voicemail, and it was indeed the doctor. "I wanted to call you right away with the good news..." Sweet relief poured over me. Everything is benign. Thank you Lord. Not because you chose to keep cancer away, but because I know without a doubt that I can trust you no matter what. I'm never alone. I'm never abandoned.

I love the picture of God always being with me in Isaiah 43. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. (Isaiah 43: 2)

In other words, sometimes God chooses to save us from the difficult things, and sometimes He chooses to allow us to walk through them. Yet, we will never be alone in the midst of the crashing waves or searing flames. We can't begin to understand the reason why we go through things, but we can choose to trust. We can choose to trust that He will be with us. He will cause good to come out of it. He has a purpose despite the pain. Yet, He also chooses to lead us beside still waters, away from the flood. And that is His good plan, too.

Today, I am resting beside the still water, my neck sore enough to still remind me of God's presence through it all.

6. I choose to live in the present. 

My thoughts often float back to my summer five years ago. By this time, my hair had newly fallen out from the chemo. My taste buds were shot. I sat in a chair for hours as poison was pumped into my body. One and a half weeks of suffering to crawl myself back to feeling better before starting over again. That was my summer of 2012. I look back occasionally to remember how far I've come, to appreciate the moment of today.

While I am beginning to believe more as time passes that I might be done with breast cancer, I also need to remember that my focus cannot nor should not be in the future.

You remember all the times you wished for, the I can't wait until I graduate...or have a good job...or my kids are out of diapers... or my kids can drive themselves...   all the times we wished for that perfect time in the future when things would be easier? When we got there, we realized that amongst the good, there was still a struggle. Not being in school meant the student loans were due. Having a good job meant a steady income but also lack of free time time to travel. When my kids graduated from diapers we experienced panicked moments of finding the nearest bathroom when we were out. I've loved that my kids can drive themselves to activities, but now we are scrambling to share a vehicle.

With every good, there is a downside. When I look from where I am now and anticipate the future, like flying home from Arizona after leaving my daughter behind for her first year of college, I feel a sense of panic creep in. Yet, when I remember that takes place in the future and God is in the present, I focus my thoughts on today. I need to finish this blog post, vacuum the family room, pull some weeds, make dinner, take a walk and live what is store for me today. God has always promised grace enough for today. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I learned that when I had a week and a half of feeling better before my next chemo treatment, I wasn't going to waste it worried about the next round of pain. I would see what food I could eat. How many miles my body could walk. Lean into the present. Cherish the moment and not worry about the future.

I learned that through battling cancer. It was part of God's good plan in the midst of the hard.

Today, free from a cancer diagnosis, the sun shining, hot coffee in my mug, a lightness in my heart, I look forward to walking through this day with God. 

Six Months

 Six months ago I recorded May 1st on my calendar: labs. I thought of all the days before me. Christmas. New Years. Long days. Sweet days. Days that will pass in a blur. Days that will stand out in memory. Each of those days will add up to months. And then I would be back.

 Walking along this hall

Waiting in a chair in this room 

This was where I was yesterday before I was called back to unroll my sleeve, feel a slight poke, and fill four vials with my blood. I laughed with the technician that she needed to only draw out healthy blood cells. She pointed to two of the vials, "We are shooting for good numbers in here, not too high and not too low." Then she pointed to the other two. "These we want none." She saw my confused look and replied, "These are the tumor markers. We want none in here." We laughed together, and a small part of me wished it were that easy. As I walked out, I prayed that God would be in control in the numbers. Of course, I knew He always is, but it helps me to pray, to be reminded that He knows and He cares.

On the other side of these chairs sat a lady in a hat, covering her baldness. She was working away on her computer, trying to get things done and not letting cancer take more from her day than was necessary. Another woman wore a short auburn wig, and I thought, she is beautiful. She smiled at me as she walked by. Was she wondering if I was at the beginning or the end of my cancer treatment? Or was it just a smile of recognition of each of our strengths, to look at the wildcard cancer brought us, and say, we may be scared, we may be tired, we may not look the same as we once did, we carry scars and fears, but we are moving on with grace, because that's who we are. Not a cancer victim. Not even a cancer survivor. But a woman full of charm and dignity. I think of the Proverbs 31 woman when I consider that brief moment: Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. (Proverbs 31:30)

It's amazing what you see in a Cancer Care Center when you care to look.

I try to take time to look at my world whenever I can. Six months seemed to pass in a blur, yet each day was filled with moments I saw. Christmas lights reflecting off the snow on Christmas Eve. My kids' laughter as they recall a ski adventure. Tired eyes on faces as they hunch over their peanut butter toasts on a dark winter's morning before school.  Congratulations and wonder over a kid who is knocking math out of the park this year. Another kid who is juggling so many balls but yet takes time at dinner to thank me for the food. A kid who is eager to strike out on her own, but yet still comes to me to share in a concern or a victory. Sitting across a candlelit table from my husband as we laugh together, amazed at the things God has done. Standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, surrounded by my family, looking in awe at the wonders of God's creation. Remembering some fears, heartache, concern, bad choices, reactions and hurt but recognizing that God has covered it all.

Six months. Next week I'll come back into this clinic, sit in a similar chair, see a set of different faces bravely standing against a scary diagnosis, and meet my new oncologist. Hopefully, I will also hear everything looks good and we'll see you in six months. And I'll write down the date, and wonder of all the things that will fill my next 180 days.

Five Years!

Five years ago, we were in the midst of homeschooling, Little League schedules, horseback riding lessons--just normal life with a 13, 12 and 10 year old. My calendar was filled with games, lessons, co-op classes, and errands. Nothing special but all significant parts of the life I loved.

Then a phone call changed everything. "You have cancer," the doctor said. After my biopsy, it wasn't exactly unexpected, but they were still words I had a hard time connecting to me. No one expects to hear those words. It took some time before I could share them with anyone else.

Suddenly, some of the baseball practices and games were handled by caring friends who wanted to help. Many of the "important" things on my to-do lists were set aside as I made new appointments with doctors and hospital radiology.  While this was a surprise to me, it wasn't a surprise to God who prepared help along the way.

If you asked me before the diagnosis how all the appointments and procedures and recovery would fit, I would have told you there's no way. But they did. Sometimes we had to drop things. So many times we leaned on the kindness of our friends to fill in the gap. Yet, my kids got to do kid things, we uncluttered some of the nonessentials, and we rarely dropped the ball on the absolutely necessary things. (Yet chemo brain was also in effect so maybe I'm not remembering everything clearly.)

No matter what, we survived.

Five years is kind of a big milestone in the cancer world. When I was reading stats about my diagnosis when I first entered this new world, all of them talked about five-year survival rates. At first, my stomach dropped and I thought after the five years it got worse. Of course, it is actually the opposite. Then my doctor explained that the statistic is based on treatment that started five years ago, and what is showing 88% now is more likely to be 90% or better because of the advancement in research. Doctors enjoy spreading hope when they can, since they also see the worst prognoses, so my radiation oncologist often stated the statistic and how I can contribute to being in the 90% group (exercise, diet, limit alcohol and add vitamin D).  My oncologist, on the other hand, would tell me in more general terms, that she feels confident that the treatment worked, that she feels more hopeful since the advancement of Herceptin that my cancer will not come back.

I'll feel better after my appointment with my new oncologist in May, after another round of blood tests and questions. Remember six months ago when I said I was passed off because my case was so "boring"?  I'm praying for more boring, more of the 90%, but mostly, more trust that no matter what, God is not surprised and will be there through it all.

That phone call that set this all in motion was five years ago on April 19th.

Last week, I expected a different phone call, a call about a job. For the first time in over 20 years, I interviewed for a job. It's a part-time position in the library. A year ago, I took a group of middle school homeschoolers to the library to learn about research and all the resources available to them. That day I thought to myself, I'd like to work here someday. After months of searching the library website waiting for a part time opening that I felt qualified for, I applied for a Public Assistant position.  I  interviewed last Thursday.

On April 19th, exactly five years after the cancer phone call, the library supervisor left a message on my phone to call her back. I couldn't reach her until the next day, but she offered me the job!

I love how God brought me full circle, from wondering if I would survive five years to finding myself exactly five years later moving on with my life, beginning a job that I feel is the perfect fit for my interests and experience.

Only God could see that five years ago.

My mind is swirling with how I'm going to handle Ben starting driver's ed in a week (thankful for friends to share the carpool again), how we are going to work out the car situation between the kids' activities and how many doctor and dentist appointments I'll need to rearrange. Yet, I know, that with God's help, we'll figure it out. It is nowhere near as complicated as we went through five years ago.

During the same week I start my new job, I'll meet with my new oncologist (since I don't have my schedule yet, I have no idea if I'll have to reschedule that appointment or not.)  I also have other things on the calendar, like graduation teas and family visiting, and since it's only three days a week, I'm hoping God will coordinate all the details.

As I was waiting to hear about the job and wondering if the timing was right, I ran into this verse: 

"This God--his way is perfect; the word of the Lord proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him." (Psalm 18:30)

I prayed that God would shield me from anything outside his will, that I would rather be disappointed that I didn't get the job than get it when He wasn't behind it.

Knowing God worked out the timing of this job, I will rest that He will take care of the schedule, too. As He has always done. And always will. 

Our God is in heaven. He does what He pleases." (Psalm 115:3) And He pleases to work all things out for the good... (Romans 8:28)

Pi Day Recipe

Since being diagnosed with cancer, I've tried eating cleaner, greener, healthier...all the buzzwords that represent the way we are supposed to eat these days. The bottom line, I just want to decrease chemicals and high fructose corn syrup and gmos and processed foods while increasing whole foods in my diet. In other words, I buy the ingredients to make soup instead of opening up a can. I mix up olive oil and vinegar, maybe some dijon and honey and create my own salad dressing instead of buying one with words I can't pronounce.

I am far from perfect on any of this. I've noticed my diet slipping into convenience and mindless eating lately. So, in light of my refocus on healthier eating, I will from time to time blog about a recipe I attempted for dinner. I know this is a common struggle, the "what's for dinner" daily torture, so maybe my recipes may help some of you.

Probably not. But, I'm going to try anyway. The pictures aren't going to be Pioneer Woman quality since I used my handy Iphone 5, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Yesterday was March 14th or otherwise known as pi day (3.14... get it?) or better yet, pie day! I decided to makeover the Impossibly Easy Chicken Pot Pie recipe from Bisquick. This is a simple recipe--open up a can of cream of chicken soup, add frozen veggies, mix up some Bisquick, milk and an egg and bake it for 30 minutes.

Of course, my goal was to make it a tad more healthier and forgo a bit of chemicals and processed foods.  The ingredients for cream of chicken soup include modified food starch (this is an all-encompassing term which makes me wonder, what food is the starch from and how is it modified?), soy protein (a food my naturopath advised me to avoid because of my estrogen positive cancer), and MSG ( a flavor additive in processed food with controversial health concerns). By mixing up a few ingredients that I've selected myself, I can avoid all of this in my food.

If you haven't made a "cream-of" soup before, it is quite simple. There are many recipes online for this. All I do is take 3 tablespoons of olive oil or butter (most times I use olive oil, but last night I mixed in a bit of butter) and 3 tablespoons of flour (check your labels to make sure it's not bleached or enriched if you want to avoid more additives). I then whisked it smooth as it heated. Then I added 1/2 cup of chicken broth and  1/2 cup milk (any kind will do; I used organic non-fat milk), whisking constantly as it simmers for about 2-3 minutes. You'll notice the sauce will start to thicken. I like to use lots of spices when I cook, not only for the added flavor but the nutritional benefits, too. I added about a teaspoon each of garlic, thyme, onion powder and turmeric, and seasoned with salt and pepper to taste. Turmeric is a healthy anti-inflammatory and turns whatever you add it to golden yellow. I use it often in soups and sauces.

Since I doubled the recipe, the sauce didn't fit back into the measuring cup, so I added the rest to the pie plates.

I rinsed out the pan and sauteed about 1/4 cup of onions. If I had to do it again, I would have sauteed the onions first. Then I realized I needed to cook the frozen chicken, so I emptied out the onions from the pan into the pie plates, threw in the chicken, added enough water to cover the bottom, sprinkled on a bit of salt and garlic, and simmered with the lid on while I worked on the topping.

Because I didn't remove all the sauce when I sauteed the onions, it burnt to the side of the pan. I was hoping it would add a flavor component to the chicken, just like the chefs say on TV.

Here again is a place where I had to decide if I was going to make this meal using entirely whole ingredients or take a shortcut. If I had allowed for more time,  I would have googled how to make a Bisquick-like mix. Some days, even the thought of searching through Google was more than I wanted to do. (We can blame Daylight Savings Time on my afternoon energy crashes this week.)

So, I chose to use this instead:

 It's not perfect because it has enriched flour as its first ingredient, but after that, all the ingredients are recognizable (i.e. Whole Wheat Flour, Rolled Oats, Yellow Cornmeal, Wheat Bran, Oat Bran, Sugar, Salt).  Bisquick uses only enriched white flour (which is why the mix is so white), and then adds partially hydrogenated soybean and/or cottonseed oil (which contain trans fats, the worst kind of fat you can consume) and dextrose (a modified sweetener often used in processed foods). The Trader Joe's version has sugar listed low on the ingredient list, but even this could have been left out if I made this myself.

The multigrains in the Trader Joe's version were a plus, something I would not have accomplished entirely from things I had on hand. Yet using whole wheat flour or another whole grain flour to make this mix without any added sugar would have just taken these four ingredients.  Next time.

To make the dough, I used 1 cup of mix, 1 egg and 1/2 cup milk and stirred it up until most of the lumps were gone.

Now that the chicken was cooked, I cut it up into small pieces and added it to the pie plates, along with as many frozen and fresh vegetables as I could fit in (broccoli, peas, carrots, corn, green beans), and then stirred in the sauce and onions. I gently placed the dough on top, trying to cover as much of the surface area as possible. I had a bit of sauce left over, so I poured it onto the crust at the end. I'm pretty sure this could have ruined the entire dish, but I was in a daring mood.

I put it into a 400 degree oven for 30 minutes. I filled up the small pie pans too full and some of the sauce bubbled over. Next time, I'll make this in a deeper casserole dish, but last night only a pie would do, because of course, it was Pi day.

So, here it is out of the oven. It's not fancy. The whole grains makes it look less appealing than the white flour which turns golden brown when baked. I'll call it rustic. It smelled wonderful.

We ate in shifts last night because of various activities and one kid sick, but no one complained about the taste. (Which is sort of like a compliment, right?) Actually, Nathan said it was good and went for a second piece.

 Becca was excited to eat when she came home, but was confused why the pot pie looked like it was untouched. (The other dish was empty and in the sink soaking). Finally, Ben woke up from his nap because a cold has been dragging him down, but even though he was hungry, he wasn't sure if he'd like it. I spotted him having a second serving when he didn't know I was looking.

The original recipe makes four generous pieces, of which my boys had two. So, if you have teenagers or more than four to feed, plan on doubling the recipe, which is what I do automatically these days.

Here is a copy of the recipe in an easier-to-read format.

Chicken Pot Pie
serves 4

1/4 cup onions
3 TB butter or olive oil
3 TB Flour (whole wheat, multi-grained preferred)
Various spices (onion powder, garlic, tumeric, thyme), 1 tsp each
Salt and Pepper to taste
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup milk (your choice)
1 cup cooked chicken, cut into small pieces
about 2 cups of frozen and/or fresh vegetables
1 cup baking mix (homemade is best)
1/2 cup milk
1 egg

Preheat oven to 400°
1.Saute onions in a small amount of olive oil until brown. Remove from pan.

2. Heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil or butter over medium-high heat. Add 3 tablespoons of flour and whisk until smooth. Add 1/2 cup of chicken broth while whisking, and slowly add 1/2 cup milk. Turn down heat and whisk constantly as it simmers and starts to thicken, about 2-3 minutes. Add spices, salt and pepper. Pour sauce into pie plate with the vegetables, onions and cooked chicken. Stir.

3.Mix up 1 cup baking mix, 1 cup milk and egg, stirring until most of the lumps are removed. Pour over top of vegetables and chicken, gently spreading to edges.

4. Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes.

So What if We Need Community

 When I was in high school literature class (aren't you amazed I can remember back that far?) we were discussing the poem, "No Man is an Island" by John Donne. Our teacher was trying to get us to understand what it meant, but his requests for deep thought were left empty by our juvenile disinterest. I remember it today because he tried so hard for us to understand the meaning of the poem, that we all need each other. Humans do not thrive separated from each other.

I follow, along with 52,000 others,  Jess Connolly on Instagram (@jessaconnolly). She's the coauthor of Wild and Free, a book I started reading last summer and misplaced but am confident will show up at the perfect time when I need to hear what it says. Ask me how I know this.  But, here's my point. Last weekend Jess ran her first marathon. At mile 14 she called her husband in tears, and many of her friends changed their plans to run with her, to support her in this fearful, difficult place.

She spoke aloud the lies Satan was whispering, "You are so needy."

"You are so emotionally weak."

"You can't do anything alone and you always need help."

She continues in her reflection on Instagram, "After a few miles and a lot of prayers, the Lord stirred up some truth in me. So what? So what if you were made for community?"

Yes! So what? We all need community. We are not designed to live life on our own.

When I first started this blog and titled it Running my Race after the verse in Hebrews, my friend Wendy shared with me a story about a middle school boy who was struggling to finish his race at a track meet. A group of kids joined him and encouraged him to finish. She said she doesn't remember hearing the cheers for the first place finisher, but everyone cheered for this selfless act of support by his teammates. We shouldn't need to run our races alone.

A single lady in my bible study moved for the second time in a few months. She agonized about asking for help, again. She wanted to do it all by herself, but the reality of her overwhelming task wouldn't allow her. She reached out to our pastor, and he organized a few guys to help, including himself. She felt utterly grateful. Yet, if I asked the guys who helped, they probably felt equally blessed. Yes, it was inconvenient. It was hard work. Still, something about helping someone lighten her load just a little bit lifts a person's spirits, too.

We all need each other.

My community did the heavy lifting when I was in the midst of my cancer treatment. My family would have suffered more than they already were if I was too prideful to ask for help. Sometimes, we need to risk and do the asking. Other times, we hear the need and run alongside someone to encourage them through that dark place. Both parts are essential.

Besides my bible study groups, I'm also a part of a prayer group. These families have become my family as we pray for each others kids, marriages, extended families, work, you name it. We officially meet once a month, have dinner and pray for each other, but that connection continues throughout the month as we send out prayer requests anytime, knowing our friends will stop and pray for that need. These are the type who would drop everything and run with me if I needed help on my 14th mile.

What about you? Do you have a community, someone to run along side when you are weary or fearful or bone-tired? Sometimes finding that group is difficult. It takes risk. I remember talking with one of the ladies who had planned on joining our Sunday morning bible study. She was nervous, never having done anything like this before, afraid she didn't know enough of the bible to fit in. I encouraged her. She risked. The whole group welcomed her, like they do every new person who joins. Now that she has been attending for several months, it is clear she has given us all more than we ever gave her. That's the beauty of being part of a community.

No man is an island. So what if we need help to run our race. We are meant for community. Where can you find yours today?

Introvert Musings

It began with a comment  about how the tortilla chips were gluten free, and ended by talking chemo, hair and ports. A pretty typical trip to the grocery store, right?

 A couple of weeks ago, I was out running errands and stopped into Central Market for a few groceries. After loading up my cart with bulk spices, vegetables and tortilla chips, I randomly chose a line. Soon I listened in on a gregarious cashier interacting with what I could only assume was a dear friend of hers.

Yet, when she switched to me and scanned my tortilla chips, she began telling me how she was now off gluten and on the lookout for more gluten free products.  Then she casually mentioned being on chemo two years ago and gaining so much weight, and having stomach problems and trying to stay off gluten, all while expertly scanning and bagging my groceries. I jumped in and asked her what kind of cancer she had. It was breast cancer.

We chatted about hair loss and how it returned differently from our original hair. She asked me if I had problem with my port site, and I told her it was still tender even after four years. She mentioned how she has had a few scares, minor things that made her worry. I encouraged her that as time passes for me, my level of panic decreases whenever I feel a new ache. I try to remember to notice it briefly, but not dwell on it unless it hangs around.  The farther I am away from my diagnosis, I told her, the less I think about cancer coming back. You'll get there, I encouraged.

She smiled and thanked me. I told her that her hair was beautiful and congratulations for the two years she is past cancer. She wished me a good day and hoped to see me again.

I did stop in the store this week and saw her in action again, same smile, same sweet spirit. I chose a different line this time, mostly because it was shorter, but it might have been that I wanted to be anonymous that day. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever wanted to get in and out and not interact with anyone? If you said no, then you definitely are not an introvert.

Some days my introvert tendency comes on strong. Last week I was home several days in a row, no appointments, no errands to run, just me and my keyboard and books. (And the million other household duties that I try to put off until I get some writing in.)  I got it into my mind that I would pack up my computer and hang out in the library or a coffee shop. I exchanged my usual yoga pants with some actual street clothes. After the kids left and I finished my bible study, I packed up. I borrowed Ben's laptop, since it's smaller, remembered my thumbdrive and notes, pens and highlighters. Since I had a few books at the library on the hold shelf, I thought I'd start my day out there.

For a weekday morning, I was surprised the library was so crowded. Of course, this is one of my frequent stops, but I usually don't look for a table to occupy. None of the tables were empty. I found one table with only one other person, but that day I wasn't in the mood to share.  I decided to check out the nearby Starbucks.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed so many cars. Driving around to the front of the shop, I peeked into the windows and saw an uninterrupted row of heads. That probably meant the only available place would be at the large table in the middle, and, well, you know how I felt about sharing space that day.

I considered driving to another place, but the idea of the quiet of my house, a desk to myself, my own coffee with organic milk I can create into a sort of latte (not as good as a coffee shop, but good enough for me) kept me driving. I pulled into my garage, unloaded my bookbag and unpacked it in my living room.  This is where I found my sweet spot.

Somedays I wish I were more like my extrovert friends. They have the ability to find people and hear their stories and be able to encourage them. A friend of a friend, a man battling stage 4 colon cancer, often shares on Facebook about his interactions with people in the waiting room or the treatment chair next to him. He is not afraid to ask people if he can pray for them, right then and there, either. How encouraging would that be? Most of the conversations I've had while receiving treatment have been because someone else initiated them. 

I do have my moments. When I know I need to be outgoing, I can turn it on. This Friday I am going to a business dinner with Walt,  and I'll put on a nice dress and fill my mind with ideas for conversation starters. Am I the only one who needs to prepare this way? I've learned that a few open ended questions is all it takes to open up a conversation. Then I'll listen, and I'll probably find someone I was glad to have met. 

I often wonder if I did this more often, would I have more opportunities to encourage others? It's possible, but I also know that it's not my normal bent. Too much time around people usually doesn't instill in me a desire to encourage anyone. It's probably the opposite, as my kids can attest. It's taken years, but I'm okay to follow the way God has created me and not try to compare my weaknesses with others' strengths.  

My conversation at the grocery store was not my typical experience. I'm glad I had the chance to encourage the cashier, but usually my grocery stop consists of smiling, asking how they were doing, and running my card through the machine. When God opens the door, as He did when I asked the question about her cancer, I've experienced wonderful connections with amazing people. I think that's the key with me. If God leads, I need to walk through the open door. Otherwise, it's okay for me to find solace in the quiet.