Years ago, my Mom came to visit us in Texas.
After a few days of showing her around, she asked, “Where are all the cowboys?!” Her comment still brings a smile to my face. I responded, “They are here Mama, just hidden.” She watched way too many westerns.
Yesterday morning, a young cowboy was walking in front of me into a restaurant, and I knew what was going to happen as soon as I saw him. He was wearing jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt tucked into his jeans. Yes! In this Texas heat!
He saw me approaching from behind, reached for the door handle of the restaurant, pulled the door open and stood there waiting for me to walk in first. It’s how he was raised.
Standing in line at the restaurant, he stood out, and I could tell the waiting was making him uncomfortable.
There was a young man about his age standing nearby dressed normally. He was also staring at his phone, which I didn’t see the young cowboy with a phone. It was 10:00 am, and he was trying to order lunch. The lady behind the counter modified the menu to make him lunch.
I felt sad for the young cowboy, feeling out of place in Texas of all places! He probably received his first pocket knife at the age of five, and was taught how to use it for work on the farm, and whittling wood for fun. Not for protection.
Maybe he felt like he was standing out in the crowd, but I saw him as standing above it.
Thank you Mama’s for continuing to raise young cowboy’s.
May they always stand out in the crowd, and open doors.
Making a coffee pour over has a calming effect over me.
Once I go through all the steps of setting it up, I’m forced to slow down, and enjoy the process. Watching as the boiling hot water, slowly escapes from the spout of the pour over kettle. It hits the coarse grounds, and they begin to bloom. (My fave) Today, I poured the water very slowly, in attempt to keep the bloom alive for as long as possible.
I listened intently during the process. When the water first hit the grounds, and the liquid drained into the empty cup, it was noisy. I could hear it trickling. As the cup filled with the hot liquid, the trickling became quieter, and quieter.
I knew the cup was full when it was completely quiet.
I published a Blog yesterday, and went back into my Blogsite and deleted it. The same thing happened today. Write, edit, publish, and an hour later, delete. To the 5 people who read them both, “I apologize if I scarred you for life.”
My email followers received notifications of the posts. Clicked on the link, and stared at air. I apologize to you too. I have discovered that waiting on this appointment next week causes me to feel vulnerable. I don’t mind being vulnerable, but to let someone read about it, amplifies the feeling.
If you’re a writer, maybe you do the same thing.
Publish a Blog, and then delete it, or maybe you have some in drafts that you can’t bring yourself to finish, and publish. I have some of those too, but there is something I’ve learned.
No matter how sucky I think that published Blog may be…it’s going to help someone. It’s going to have something in there that someone needs to see. So, maybe if I write this at night, hit publish, and go to bed, you can read it while I sleep. Because waiting on Tuesday to arrive is not working.
My instinct is to disappear for a few days, and become quiet.
To remove myself from the lives of the people I love, so they don’t have to be a part of what I’m going through. That is my way of protecting them. Well, the last time I checked, my circle of people are some brilliant, grounded adults who can decide whether they need protection or not.
I believe you are only as alone as you allow yourself to be.
I don’t feel alone, so thank you, for not leaving me alone.
I write about a beautiful life, and that is my hearts desire to share with you. Right now, I feel the need to get this out, and writing always helps soothe the soul.
Once again, I am waiting.
Last Friday, I went in for my 6 month checkup, and had a mammogram.
It began as routine, and then the technician came in for more scans. This is the left breast that held Cancer last year. After having 6 scans, I was escorted into the sonogram room. The technician rolled the handheld device over my breast for what seemed like a very long time. She sent the scans to be reviewed by the doctor, and in came the doctor.
The doctor tried to sound casual as she spoke. “You have a couple of areas I’m not sure about, but they are not screaming Cancer to me. I’d like to see you again in six months.”
Does Cancer scream?
I left there concerned, but not worried. Wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions until my Oncologist saw the film. I knew she would know if there was any cause for concern.
She called today and wants to see me. “There are areas of concern…” Her first available appointment is 10/24, which is almost two weeks away. I ask that you wait with me.
I haven’t had any reliable Internet the last couple of days. Seymour and I took off, and drove to the beach. We saw the ocean, but it was raining, so we didn’t get to enjoy it as we had planned. The trip wasn’t about walking on the beach. It was about all the time spent together in the car, sharing a room, and talking and listening to one another’s life stories.
As I was driving to my Mammogram appointment Thursday morning, all these recollections of my Breast Cancer journey came to mind. Driving down a country road, toward the city, I saw a slide show before me. Moments where my faith was tested, and I was ready to call it quits. Seymour mentioned that I suffered in silence, so why did I feel so exposed?
I arrived at my appointment, was escorted to a screening room, and stood before that massive machine for the first time in a year. The last time I was there, I could only hug it, and sob. This time was different. The technician had to keep moving the machine upwards to accommodate my height. I was stronger now, so maybe I was standing a little bit taller.
The technician used the machine to take pictures of both breasts in 3D. When she was done, I went to sit in a private lounge, just for women waiting for the test, or the results.
I sat down across from a woman, I guessed to be retirement age. She had been crying, and was clutching the front of her gown, trying to keep it from falling open. I had been right where she was sitting, so I asked her, “Are you okay?” She started to cry some more.
She told me that she had been so faithful with her Mammograms. She had received one every year for as far back as she could remember. She was late in getting this one, and when she did, they saw something concerning. They had just done a more in depth one, and she was waiting to hear the next steps. She was at her beginning, and I was at my end.
The first thing I assured her of was, there is no such thing as ‘late’. You are here now, and that is all that matters. I shared the names of all my doctors with her, and she frantically took notes. The technician came back to get me, and as I left, I looked at her and said, “God bless you.” She whispered the same to me, and I told her, “He does everyday love.”
My journey created a profound intimacy with God. It’s still there, even though my journey was coming to a close. God was getting ready to test my faith, as see what I had learned.
The technician escorted me to a different room, which I recognized immediately. There was the table I had laid on during my biopsy. She asked me to lay on the table, and open the right side of my gown. I laid down, and asked her, “You realize the lump was in my left?”
She said, “Oh I know Mrs. Holmes, but we saw something in the right that we need to take a closer look at.” My world stopped. I realized I had been so concerned about the left one, that I hadn’t paid much attention to the right. I felt the warm gel hit my breast, and the wand of the sonogram machine started sliding around. At that point, I lost all control.
I broke down, and started sobbing on the table. The female technician patted my arm, reassuring me that it was all okay. I told her, “I cannot do this again! I cannot go through it all again!!!” But you know what? If I needed to go through it again, God would be there. My next thought was, I would have both breasts removed, so at least I could come back as a 36C!
She completed the sonogram, and left the room to review the results with the Oncologist. When she returned, she exclaimed, “You are all good Mrs. Holmes! It’s only a cyst!” There was more than one test given here, and thanks be to God that I was able to pass ’em both.
Barbara is a Writer, a Mom to her 17-year-old daughter, a recent Breast Cancer survivor, and she loves God. When she started this Blog in 2014 Letitgocoach was the name that stuck. She enjoys helping people Let Go of what is holding them back from having a beautiful life. Her life is beautiful, and an example of Letting Go and Letting God. You may connect with her via email. Letitgocoach@gmail.com
“When God when?”, is my thinking. “Wait Barbara wait”, is what I hear. Thoughts?
I have not been good at waiting. Being patient and waiting are two different things. Patience reflects the good attitude during the wait. Without patience, I can bulldoze through and make things happen. Today, I choose to wait.
Responding verses Reacting. We live in a ‘Now’ society. Everything is drive thru now. You can get married in a drive thru and probably even accept Jesus. When we get what we want quickly, there is no time involved to weigh out it’s worth. It’s worth is weighed by the waiting. It’s the attitude I keep during the waiting that is a struggle. Keeping a positive attitude in the wait.
Making good choices take time. I like to wait 3 days before making a critical decision. If it has the ability to alter my path, I can wait. It took Jesus three days to rise from the dead. A lot can happen…
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