Advent begins November 28
30 Oct 2010 Leave a Comment
in encouragement, family, just because Tags: encouragement, faith, family
Last year, our family read a wonderful devotional together to honor the Christmas season, Tidings of Great Joy: Devotions for Advent and Christmas by Sharon Pullen. In our family, Silas read the opening prayers, Lily read the scriptures, Paul read the lessons, and I did the closing prayers. We did each devotion after dinner and used an Advent wreath as the author recommends and clearly explains.
I highly recommend this Advent devotional. The format helps facilitate interesting and appropriate discussions for kindergarteners and grandpas alike. Lighting the Advent wreath makes the experience meaningful and special. The symbolism of each candle is explained in the book. The devotional can be studied individually, as a family like we did, or in a small group.
CBC, chemo, & cheerful
27 Oct 2010 3 Comments
in breast cancer, coping, encouragement, prayer, recovery, side effects, update Tags: breast cancer, encouragement, holy cross, prayer
Dr. Singh was pleased with my Complete Blood Count results yesterday. My platelet count was below normal, but not enough to cause concern. My white blood cell count was above normal, which is the best news possible. My next chemotherapy treatment is scheduled for Monday, November 8.
I had heard that the second week, beginning around the tenth day after treatment, is the lowest of the low, that I’d be exhausted and weak. However, today marked the third very good day in a row for me. During the past few days, I’ve cleaned, filed, organized, found things, wrote a bit, and shopped. The sores on my lips and in my mouth have improved, my bones don’t ache so much, I have more energy than I’ve had in over two months, and my disposition is decidedly more pleasant. Thank you for your prayers towards any of these objectives. Maybe I’ll start running again. 
On Monday, Jackie called, “Can I drop a little something by? I can just leave it on the porch.” I told her I was home, and she might as well come in and chat for a minute. “Little” my eye. When Jackie appeared on my porch, I could barely see her for the HUGE green bucket.
I’ve had the sweet joy of getting to know Jackie through our church. I suspect she’s one of the folks who helped organize the Pink for Carolyn Sunday. I wish I had taken a picture of Jackie carrying the bigger-than-Jackie bucket, filled with small gifts of all sorts, cards, and notes from my church friends. Jackie gave me very strict instructions: “I know how you are.” How am I? What ever do you mean? “You’ll want to open every single thing in this bucket today.” Really? Is my tendency to be obsessive about things once in a while that obvious? Yikes! “So you have to pace yourself. Only open two or three notes or gifts each day, so you can enjoy the encouragement for days and days.” More like weeks!
Lucy thinks my bucket is her new bed.
The first envelope I opened had pictures and notes from two precious sisters, Lena (age 10) and Gracie (age 6). Lena skillfully illustrated the Parable of the Lost Cat; she depicted me standing on the deck, shouting “Stop.” Gracie drew several astonishingly accurate pictures of me (svelte with thick, luscious locks), “Mrs. Koning, I love you. I like your hair color. I like to be with you because I like your kids.” Thanks Gracie. I hope I get to keep my hair!
I love my church!
24 Oct 2010 5 Comments
in breast cancer, encouragement, just because Tags: encouragement, friendship, holy cross
Church of the Holy Cross pinked out in a show of support.
Side effects kick in
22 Oct 2010 2 Comments
in coping, hair, prayer, side effects, update Tags: coping, friendship, hair, prayer
As of today, I still have hair. I was told that if I’m going to lose my hair, it will likely start to fall out two weeks after the first treatment. I’ll let you know if I still have hair on October 29, and if I don’t, I’ll post photos. My friend Carol, who triumphed over breast cancer and has been cancer-free for more than five years, advised that I not allow my hair to control me; I must control my hair. Lynne, my favorite oncology nurse, recommended that I cut my hair shorter just in case, that it’s less painful and dramatic if I am one of the patients to lose my hair. The hair thing is hard for most cancer patients. I really don’t care if I lose my hair; I just want to be totally healed. Silas does care, but that’s fodder for another day.
Clai
A bitter irony is the fact that the stylist who has cut my hair since I was teenager (maybe before then) died in July after a painful battle with gallbladder cancer. Clai cut my mother’s hair for more than 40 years. He gave us both fancy coifs (well, as fancy as either of us gets) on my wedding day at no charge. I sent him an RVA calendar the year we were in Kenya. He loved the students’ unique stippled drawings of African animals and people and asked for another for 2010. I tried to obtain a new RVA calendar for Clai, but I either inquired too late, or I didn’t try hard enough. I make intentional efforts to avoid dwelling on regrets, but I do wish I had figured out a way to get Clai a 2010 calendar.
I haven’t had my hair cut since he passed away. No one could ever replace Clai. He and I used to joke about another local salon that boasted they had “created the Raleigh bob” (as if people in other cities are unaware of the bob?). I’ve been wearing a bob since the early 80s, not because I’m any sort of trendsetter, but because it’s easy. Clai never even offered to blow-dry my hair because he knew full well I didn’t want to pay the extra couple of bucks for something I didn’t even do myself. He never tried to make me something I wasn’t. He made fun of my ponytail that I predictably wore as I’d slink in for my bi-annual hair cut. He teased me about my Birkenstocks. His greatest virtue was the fact that he loved my mama. He understood her well, and our haircut dialogue was often a Joan Coley love-fest.
- I don’t know why my hair looks purple.
I wanted to get my hair cut before October 29. My friend Melanie* suggested, “You should get your butt to a nice, expensive place and get yourself a great cut and a spa treatment at the same time!” Right. I’m going to plunk down big money for a fabulous do that could easily disappear in a week? Not likely. I’m not ready for a new stylist, so my sweet friend Donna agreed to the job. She cut my hair yesterday in her kitchen. If my hair does actually start falling out, I’ll buzz it like I do Silas’s in the summer (aiming for a Hallie Berry look, but will more likely resemble Silas); I figured I didn’t want to go that route until I was sure it was absolutely necessary.
That’s the hair report. In addition to having hair, I’m not miserable, but I’m far from ship-shape. Food smells and tastes awful. My mouth tastes bad all the time. I have small sores in my mouth and on my lips. I’m tired, but not totally exhausted. I did way too much yesterday (flu shots, haircut, Goodwill, and transporting children all over town). I was wiped out by 3:00 p.m., so I laid on the sofa and watched Much Ado About Nothing (which I forgot how much I love. If you haven’t seen it, you should. It’s delightful. Staring Denzel Washington, Emma Thompson, Michael Keaton, Kenneth Branagh, Keanu Reeves, Robert Sean Leonard. It’s a Netflix “Watch Instantly”!). I’ve been slightly nauseous, but not unbearably so, and the anti-nausea medication works well when I take it at the first sign of an unsettled stomach. The most unpleasant side effect I’ve experienced is achy, painful bones and joints resulting from the Neulasta injection. Neulasta stimulates white blood cell production, crucial for immune defense, protection against infections. Neulasta can also cause accelerated heart-rate and mild difficulty breathing.
I have an appointment with Dr. Singh, my oncologist, on Tuesday (October 26), just to touch base during the second week after my first chemo treatment. Evidently, the second week is supposed to be the most difficult as far as side effects go. My second treatment should be sometime during the first week in November.
As always, thank you for your encouragement, prayers, and practical help.
Prayer Requests:
- For the side effects from chemo and Neulasta to be minimal.
- For my family to experience nominal (or no) anxiety and stress.
- For God to bless the people who have prepared meals for us.
- For my disposition and outlook to improve.
* Hey, Melanie, the next time you’re in Raleigh (well, maybe not “the next time;” how ’bout sometime in January or February), we can have a spa day date? Donna can come too. Anybody else want to join us?!
Who is your Judy?
20 Oct 2010 4 Comments
in breast cancer, encouragement, just because Tags: encouragement
Carolyn & Judy circa 1986
I should be ashamed and embarrassed to share this negligence, but perhaps I’m hoping that the public confession of my wrongdoing and the declaration of the virtues of a truly remarkable woman whom I dearly love will bring me some peace for my years of procrastination.
This letter is exceedingly long overdue. Judy first wrote a letter of recommendation for me in 1987 when I applied for a teaching position with the Wake County Public School System. She proceeded to write recommendations for me for every job for which I applied after that, letters to Africa Inland Mission, Wake Technical Community College, and Meredith College. She probably wrote a reference when I applied to North Carolina State University for graduate school. Rules of business etiquette, basic decorum, and certainly my refined Southern upbringing all dictate that one “promptly” write a gracious letter of appreciation to those who take the time and effort to recommend you to potential employers. A 23-year delay is absolutely disgraceful.
In July of 2009, Judy was diagnosed with the same type of breast cancer I have, invasive ductal carcinoma (mine was also lobular), lymph node negative. At the time, I ached for Judy. I implored every Seafarer girl on earth to send Judy a note or e-mail of encouragement. All the while, I was still mentally composing my unwritten, 23-year-overdue letter. Even then, I didn’t get around to writing her, not even a brief postcard or e-mail.
Ironic, isn’t it? I fancy myself a “writer,” yet I seemed unable to muster the gumption to write such an important letter, to a person so significant in my life. You see, I have so much more to tell Judy besides, “Thank you for your time and effort recommending me to so-and-so. I was thrilled to be offered the position, and I’m confident your reference was exceedingly influential in my success.” It always seemed such a daunting task; how could I possibly articulate clearly all that she has meant to me? After way too much ado, I will write the letter today.
Dearest Judy,
Thank you for the reams of reference letters you wrote on my behalf over the past 23 years. Every job I have ever had, I owe, at least in part, to your countless, generous recommendations. I have always appreciated you more than you will ever know, so please forgive me for failing to tell you so.
I am indebted to you for a great deal of who and what I am. You taught me by your example and instruction. My good fortune regarding job acquisitions can be credited to your letters of recommendation, but my success as a valued, effective employee and as a compassionate person is also a reflection of your influence.
- By providing encouragement, positive feedback, and genuine concern, you showed me that I was important to you and that you had faith in my abilities; you helped me develop confidence in my gifts and talents, in my contributions to others and to organizations.
- By giving me responsibilities that I feared, you gave me confidence in myself and in my ability to tackle challenges.
- You maintained high expectations for me which helped me go beyond mediocre and pursue infinite possibilities.
- You motivated me to do my very best, even when no one was watching, perhaps especially when no one was watching; lasting reward is not found in accolades or praise from others.
- By confronting me honestly and with love, you taught me that confrontation doesn’t necessarily mean conflict, and it always means improvement and growth.
- Regarding a particular poor choice in 1989, I learned from your serious, yet gentle, confrontation that I had been a judgmental, impertinent, arrogant Christian, alienating others about whom I cared deeply.
- Before “win-win” was a cliché or routine corporate lingo, you taught me that solutions to problems can (should) benefit everyone, that for anyone truly to be a winner, everyone involved must win.
- You taught me to pick up litter, even if it’s not my own because, as a citizen of this planet, it’s the right thing to do.
- By always, always, always demonstrating an optimistic outlook and attitude, you taught me that I may not be able to control my circumstances, but I can always, always, always control my mind-set and responses. For example, trash became “paper rattlesnakes,” and rain became “liquid sunshine.”
- By instilling the wisdom of “firm but kind,” you taught me what it means to be a good parent.
- You taught me how to encourage and build others up and why such things are valuable.
- By making a difference in the lives of so many people, as well as in mine, you taught me that I can make a difference too.
This is the short list. I think of you often, as your impact went far beyond these few recollections. You have now bravely walked ahead of me on the miserable path of breast cancer. I’m sorry either of us has had to contend with this beast at all. But if it created the necessary incentive and opportunity for me to tell you what I wish I had told you years ago, I’m thankful.
You are a blessing and an inspiration to me and to so many people. You can’t possibly know the significant impression you’ve had on others. I love you, Judy. I’m so thankful God put you in my life.
Love,
Carolyn
Now, the rest of you, tell your Judy, whoever she (or he) may be, how much you appreciate her influence in your life and why she’s special. And do not begin like I did, even if it has been 23 years or more. Emily Post, in Etiquette (which, you’d never know by my indigent manners, I not only own, but have a signed early edition), states, “HOW NOT TO BEGIN: “I have been meaning to write you for a long time but haven’t had a minute to spare.”
The Parable of the Prodigal Cat
16 Oct 2010 2 Comments
in coping, family, just because, prayer Tags: coping, family, pets, prayer
No, this is not one of Jesus’s parables studied during the recent women’s retreat I attended. I still hope to share my contemplations on a particular parable Jesus told, but today, I have my own.
We have two cats. Lucy was Silas’s birthday gift last year, a CraigsList discovery. Lily and I drove to Apex to collect her. The seller claimed she, a kitten at the time, was exceedingly sweet. She’s not as malicious as some might lead you to believe, but “sweet” was most certainly an exaggeration. However, she loves me and is rarely nasty to me. We decided she needed a sister to improve her disposition. By way of Aurora, the Wheelers, a new friend Judy Sasser, the Wisniewskis, and the Cracker Barrel in Smithfield, Zoe is “the cat God gave me.” I don’t think she weighed four pounds when she arrived, but a solid seven pounds later, she is one of the sweetest pets ever.
During the past two months, after each of my surgeries, neither Zoe nor Lucy ever left my side. They snoozed with me all day, watched movies, and moved to the sofa with me when I was ready to venture out of the bed. They have been my loyal companions, contributing to my peace and healing as only animals can.
Lucy and Zoe are indoor cats. Lucy is more adventurous than Zoe and has sneaked out on multiple occasions. She rarely wanders very far, always comes home, or we successfully capture her. Zoe has never even demonstrated interest in going outside. Perhaps having known the struggles of life as a pure stray, Zoe recognizes the luxury of cushy beds and a bottomless food bowl. None of us can figure out how (or why) she got out.
To add insult to injury, yesterday was my first chemo treatment. And the nice cat chose that, of all days, to get herself lost?! We didn’t even realize she was missing for an hour or more. Once aware, we searched every closet, cabinet, nook, and cranny of the house. The only explanation was that she was outside. Lily and Silas looked in the yard for a while. When Paul got home from work, he searched high and low, both inside and out. I panicked. I know cats. I’m a cat person. Cats always find their way home. But, suddenly, I feared, What if Zoe doesn’t find her way home? And of all times, now, when I need her.
Contrary to anything resembling common sense, I roamed the entire cotton-pickin’ neighborhood, talking to people I’ve never even seen, imploring each to join my urgent search. I wore myself completely out. I stumbled home and, realizing that some might roll their eyes, posted my absurd distress on Facebook and sent a few folks e-mails, asking them to pray for Zoe to come home. I should have rallied the prayer warriors first.
While Zoe was missing, Silas was positively inconsolable. I felt exactly like he did. Maybe worse, but I didn’t dare let him know. Silas said, “Did you e-mail our whole church?” I told him I had asked a couple of folks to pray.
“Did you tell your ten trillion Facebook friends to pray?”
“Yes, actually, I did.”
“Okay. How about Father John? Did you ask Father John to pray.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Will he pray for Zoe during church?”
“We’re going to find her before Sunday.”
Weeping, “What if we don’t?”
“We will,” but, as I mentioned, I felt exactly like he did. “I even sent God an e-mail.”
“I did too.”
I ventured, “If we find her before Sunday, I think you should stand up during the announcement time and thank people for praying for our cat. Or would you rather play a tune of praise on your trumpet?”
“I will. Not the trumpet thing. I will stand up and thank people for praying. I will.”
Well, we all know THAT is highly unlikely, but I do think he is especially grateful that so many people told God about our problem.
Hours later, Paul turned on one of the back lights, and there she was outside the door. As he opened it, Zoe darted away, scared, and hid under the deck. Paul, Lily, and Silas could see her with flashlights, her eyes glowing in the dark. It took another hour for them to woo her into the house. I, of course, was lying in my bed at that point, debilitated from a day of chemo followed by a fool’s errand.
Jesus chose to explain some of His parables; others, He left the interpretation to His usually bewildered listeners. None of Jesus’s parables recount actual happenings or involved living people. He told stories to explain deeper spiritual truths in a way common folks—mothers, fishermen, farmers, carpenters, merchants, and children—could understand. My little attempt to imitate the Master falls exceedingly short, but my children and I relearned spiritual truths from the Prodigal Cat, truths I thought worth sharing with you.
- We saw that other people care about us, even during something as trivial as a lost cat.
- People care about you. Ask others for help when you need it.
- We were reminded that the God of the universe cares about our sadness, even when the cause isn’t catastrophic or tragic.
- Almighty God cares about your sadness, illness, concerns, anxiety, and suffering. Cancer and cats. Nothing is too trivial for God.
- Our Creator, the Creator of world, hears and answers our prayers (albeit, in ways we may not understand sometimes, but this time, exactly as we prayed).
- God hears your prayers. Pray. Tell Him your pain, hopes, dreams, disappointments.
- Finally, people with cancer and undergoing chemotherapy should not venture out at night, by themselves, before asking somebody to pray.
Lily suggested, “Your next blog post should be titled The Power of Prayer.”
The Parable of the Prodigal Cat: The Power of Prayer.
While Zoe was missing, Silas was positively inconsolable. I felt exactly like he did. Maybe worse, but I didn’t dare let on. Silas said, “Did you e-mail our whole church?” I told him I was asking a couple folks to pray.
“Did you tell your ten trillion Facebook friends to pray?”
“Yes, actually, I did.”
“Okay. How about Father John? Did you ask Father John to pray.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Will he pray for Zoe during church?”
“We’re going to find her before Sunday.”
Weeping, “What if we don’t?”
“We will,” but, remember, I felt exactly like he did. “I even sent God an e-mail.”
“I did too.”
I ventured, “If we find her before Sunday, I think you should stand up during the announcements and thank people for praying for our cat. Or would you rather play a tune of praise on your trumpet?”
“I will. Not the trumpet thing. I will stand up and thank people for praying. I will.”
Well, we all know THAT is highly unlikely, but I do think he is especially grateful that you told God about our problem! Once again, there are blessings in the end. My children saw that other people do care about us; that the God of the universe cares about our sadness, even when the cause isn’t catastrophic or tragic; and that the Creator of the world hears and answers our prayers (albeit, in ways we may not understand sometimes, but this time, exactly as we prayed).Lily declared, “Your next blog post should be titled The Power of Prayer.”
Zoe was probably hiding under the deck for the entire five hours, scared to death. Paul finally spotted her when he looked under the deck (for the um-teenth time), but in the dark, with a flashlight, so he saw her eyes glowing. It took another hour for Paul, Lily, and Silas to woo her in. I was laying in my bed because, earlier, I had worn myself completely out walking all over the neighborhood. I should have rallied the prayer warriors (you) to begin with, rather than walking around the whole cotton-pickin’ neighborhood, talking to people I’ve never even seen, imploring each to join the search!
While Zoe was missing, Silas was positively inconsolable. I felt exactly like he did. Maybe worse, but I didn’t dare let on. Silas said, “Did you e-mail our whole church?” I told him I was asking a couple folks to pray.
“Did you tell your ten trillion Facebook friends to pray?”
“Yes, actually, I did.”
“Okay. How about Father John? Did you ask Father John to pray.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Will he pray for Zoe during church?”
“We’re going to find her before Sunday.”
Weeping, “What if we don’t?”
“We will,” but, remember, I felt exactly like he did. “I even sent God an e-mail.”
“I did too.”
I ventured, “If we find her before Sunday, I think you should stand up during the announcements and thank people for praying for our cat. Or would you rather play a tune of praise on your trumpet?”
“I will. Not the trumpet thing. I will stand up and thank people for praying. I will.”
Well, we all know THAT is highly unlikely, but I do think he is especially grateful that you told God about our problem! Once again, there are blessings in the end. My children saw that other people do care about us; that the God of the universe cares about our sadness, even when the cause isn’t catastrophic or tragic; and that the Creator of the world hears and answers our prayers (albeit, in ways we may not understand sometimes, but this time, exactly as we prayed).
No State Fair for me this year
15 Oct 2010 5 Comments
in family, just because, treatment Tags: family, treatment
I went to a chemo orientation class yesterday. I showed the list of things I’m supposed to avoid to Lily and Paul because I was instructed to avoid “cooking for yourself” and “cleaning animal litter boxes,” and I wanted to make sure they fully understood the implications. Among of the trillion things I should avoid are “sweet, fried, or fatty foods” to minimize nausea.
“So, I guess you can’t eat anything at the fair.” commented Lily.
I really don’t think I need to go to the fair at all for a multitude of reasons. Chemo starts in 20 minutes. I think I need to get going!! Thank you for your prayers!
If you eat a Krispy Kreme burger at the N.C. State Fair, I’m interested in your feedback. I love Krispy Kreme donuts more than the average person. And I do love a good burger, the redder, the better. But I really cannot imagine any worse combination!
Chemo starts on Friday!
13 Oct 2010 12 Comments
in breast cancer, prayer, treatment, update Tags: breast cancer, prayer, treatment
My first chemotherapy treatment is Friday, October 15 at 9:45 a.m. I’ll have four total treatments, one every three weeks, requiring three to four hours each. My chemo medications will be Taxotere and Cytoxan. I’ll also receive Neulasta injections to counteract the negative side-effects of chemo, particularly, compromised white blood cell count which can lead to increased susceptibility to illness and infection.
I may or may not lose my hair which has been Silas’s greatest concern. I’m told I could also experience some digestive issues, including nausea. My doctor did not mention fatigue specifically, and I can’t seem to find any definitive research that indicates I may feel unusually tired, so I’m hopeful regarding the impact on my energy level.
After the twelve weeks of chemo, I’ll have radiation therapy five days a week, for six weeks. During the five years following radiation, I’ll take Tamoxifen and then Femara orally, both commonly prescribed for women diagnosed with hormone-receptor-positive, early-stage breast cancer.
This treatment course was confirmed by a wildly expensive test (something around $4K!), Oncotype DX. I’ve often complained bitterly about the treatments and conditions our medical insurance refuses to cover financially, but I was overwhelmed and amazed that they covered the total cost of the Oncotype DX test. While I understand very little of the four page document that explains my score, it is reassuring that the results support the course of treatment Dr. Singh is pursuing.
Prayer Requests:
- Thank God for my family and friends who have been so supportive and encouraging throughout this challenge.
- Thank God for the many family members, friends, church family members, and the families at Our Lady of Lourdes School for bringing us meals. This has been a huge blessing, significantly reducing my stress and anxiety levels. Ask God to shower each of these sweet folks with abundant, outrageous blessings for the kindness and generosity they’ve demonstrated to our family.
- Ask God to spare me from many of the negative side-effects associated with chemotherapy.
- If I do experience negative side-effects, pray that I’ll have God’s peace, strength, and courage in the midst of the trial.
- Pray that I’ll be an encouragement to others and a positive witness for Christ throughout my treatment.
- Pray for Paul, Lily, Silas, and my parents, Joan and Richard, throughout the treatment process. Pray that they would experience God’s peace and continue to enjoy life.
- Pray for all the treatments to be effective, that I’ll never experience a recurrence, ever. Pray for complete and total healing.
Persistent Friendship
11 Oct 2010 2 Comments
in coping, encouragement, just because Tags: coping, encouragement, faith, friendship, holy cross
CHC Women's Retreat 2010. Photo Janet Robertson
I spent this past weekend with the beautiful women of Church of the Holy Cross. Every October, we rent a house at Emerald Isle where we eat, sit on the beach, relax, laugh, study God’s Word, pray, and encourage one another. We studied the parables of Jesus* this weekend.
Spiritual renewal!
I wasn’t sure I could go this year. I never registered because I didn’t know at what point in my treatment I’d be, come October. Little did I know that many had been praying for months that I’d be able to go. Last Monday or Tuesday, I e-mailed Cheryl who teaches the youth Sunday school class and told her, since she would be on the retreat, I would teach her class on Sunday because I was too tired to go. She had already hoodwinked her husband into volunteering for the job, so my services were unnecessary. On Thursday, I sort of entertained the thought of going, but just couldn’t consider the prospect seriously. That’s when Elizabeth started stalking me to persuade me to go on the retreat. Yes, this is the same Elizabeth who took Silas to school while Paul was in Malawi and involuntarily witnessed one of my deranged displays of fury. Perhaps she, better than any one else, understood firsthand how much I need Jesus. She called, e-mailed, sent text messages, and left voicemail messages. She recruited a few others to do the same.
Elizabeth called again early Friday morning. I mentioned my brief conversation with her as our family finished breakfast. Lily declared, “You should go. We don’t need you.” Thanks. . . . I think. Perhaps a tiny bit despondent, or maybe just to reassure me that my existence is not irrelevant, my sweet Paul said sheepishly, “I need you.” Still not entirely convinced that participating in the retreat was what I should or even wanted to do, I packed.
Then I got a headache. I often get headaches and usually at the most inopportune moments. At that point, the retreat became, at least in my mind, an impossibility. Weeping, I called Elizabeth, but she wasn’t ready to surrender just yet. “I’ll call you back in about 45 minutes, and we’ll see how you’re feeling.”
A while later, my stuff and I were crammed into Elizabeth’s Prius, along with Kadi and Lisa and all their stuff, and the four of us headed east. I can’t believe the blessings I would have missed had I stayed home. God is good. All the time. In the days to come, I hope to share at least one of the parables we studied and the practical applications I learned.
Carolyn & Cheryl. Photo Lisa Gibson
Thank you Elizabeth, Sharon, Lou, Janet, Lisa, Kadi, Patty, Jackie, Cheryl, Connie, Louise, S.K.Y., Sally, Beth, Hillary, Jane, Delores, Kristen, and Tal for your friendship, the sweet fellowship, and your encouragement. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you Lou, Janet, and Sharon for all your hard work to make the weekend so special for all of us. And thank you Elizabeth for your persistence.
* Join me in praying that Sharon Pullen will publish her efforts on the parables so others may receive the blessings of her inspired insight. Sharon’s Advent devotional, Tidings of Great Joy, may be purchased at Amazon.com very soon. I’ll post the link as soon as the book is available.
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I spent this past weekend with the beautiful women of Church of the Holy Cross. Every October, we rent a house at Emerald Isle where we eat, sit on the beach, relax, study God’s Word, pray, laugh, and encourage one another. We studied the parables of Jesus* this weekend.
I wasn’t sure I could go this year. I never registered because I didn’t know at what point in my treatment I’d be come mid October. Little did I know that many had been praying for months that I’d be able to go. Last Monday or Tuesday, I e-mailed the Sunday school teacher for the youth class and told her, since she would be on the retreat, I would teach her class on Sunday because I was too tired to go on the retreat. She had already hoodwinked her husband into volunteering for the job, so my services were unnecessary. On Thursday, I sort of entertained the thought of going, but just couldn’t consider the prospect seriously. That’s when Elizabeth started stalking me. Yes, this is the same Elizabeth who took Silas to school while Paul was in Malawi and involuntarily witnessed one of my deranged displays of fury. Maybe she, better than any one else, understood firsthand how much I need Jesus. She called, e-mailed, sent text messages, and left voicemail messages. She recruited a few others to do the same.
Elizabeth called again early Friday morning. I mentioned my brief conversation with her as our family finished breakfast. Lily declared, “You should go. We don’t need you.” Thanks. . . . I think. Perhaps a tiny bit despondent, or maybe just to reassure me that my existence is not irrelevant, my sweet Paul said sheepishly, “I need you.” Still not entirely convinced that participating in the retreat was what I should or even wanted to do, I packed.
Then I got a headache. I often get headaches and usually at the most inopportune moments. At that point, I was sure I shouldn’t go on the retreat. Weeping, I called Elizabeth, but she wasn’t ready to surrender just yet. “I’ll call you back in about 45 minutes, and we’ll see how you’re feeling.”
A while later, my stuff and I were crammed into Elizabeth’s Prius, along with Kadi and Lisa and all their stuff, and the four of us headed east. I can’t believe the blessings I would have missed had I stayed home. God is good. All the time. In the days to come, I hope to tell you at least one of the parables we studied and the practical applications I learned.
I spent this past weekend with the beautiful women of Church of the Holy Cross. Every October, we rent a house at Emerald Isle where we eat, sit on the beach, relax, study God’s Word, pray, laugh, and encourage one another. We studied the parables of Jesus* this weekend.
I wasn’t sure I could go this year. I never registered because I didn’t know at what point in my treatment I’d be come mid October. Little did I know that many had been praying for months that I’d be able to go. Last Monday or Tuesday, I e-mailed the Sunday school teacher for the youth class and told her, since she would be on the retreat, I would teach her class on Sunday because I was too tired to go on the retreat. She had already hoodwinked her husband into volunteering for the job, so my services were unnecessary. On Thursday, I sort of entertained the thought of going, but just couldn’t consider the prospect seriously. That’s when Elizabeth started stalking me. Yes, this is the same Elizabeth who took Silas to school while Paul was in Malawi and involuntarily witnessed one of my deranged displays of fury. Maybe she, better than any one else, understood firsthand how much I need Jesus. She called, e-mailed, sent text messages, and left voicemail messages. She recruited a few others to do the same.
Elizabeth called again early Friday morning. I mentioned my brief conversation with her as our family finished breakfast. Lily declared, “You should go. We don’t need you.” Thanks. . . . I think. Perhaps a tiny bit despondent, or maybe just to reassure me that my existence is not irrelevant, my sweet Paul said sheepishly, “I need you.” Still not entirely convinced that participating in the retreat was what I should or even wanted to do, I packed.
Then I got a headache. I often get headaches and usually at the most inopportune moments. At that point, I was sure I shouldn’t go on the retreat. Weeping, I called Elizabeth, but she wasn’t ready to surrender just yet. “I’ll call you back in about 45 minutes, and we’ll see how you’re feeling.”
A while later, my stuff and I were crammed into Elizabeth’s Prius, along with Kadi and Lisa and all their stuff, and the four of us headed east. I can’t believe the blessings I would have missed had I stayed home. God is good. All the time. In the days to come, I hope to tell you at least one of the parables we studied and the practical applications I learned.
Thank you Elizabeth, Sharon, Lou, Janet, Lisa, Kadi, Patty, Jackie, Cheryl, Connie, Louise, S.K.Y., Sally, Beth, Hillary, Jane, Delores, Kristen, and Tal for your friendship, the sweet fellowship, and your encouragement. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you Lou, Janet, and Sharon for all your hard work to make the weekend so special for all of us. And thank you Elizabeth for your persistence.
* Join me in praying that Sharon Pullen will publish her efforts on the parables so others may receive the blessings of her inspired insight. Sharon’s Advent devotional, Tidings of Great Joy, can be purchased at Amazon.com very soon. I’ll post the link as soon as the book is available.
Thank you Elizabeth, Sharon, Lou, Janet, Lisa, Kadi, Patty, Jackie, Cheryl, Connie, Louise, S.K.Y., Sally, Beth, Hillary, Jane, Delores, Kristen, and Tal for your friendship, the sweet fellowship, and your encouragement. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you Lou, Janet, and Sharon for all your hard work to make the weekend so special for all of us. And thank you Elizabeth for your persistence.
* Join me in praying that Sharon Pullen will publish her efforts on the parables so others may receive the blessings of her inspired insight. Sharon’s Advent devotional, Tidings of Great Joy, can be purchased at Amazon.com very soon. I’ll post the link as soon as the book is available.
Even Homecoming Queens get breast cancer!
06 Oct 2010 4 Comments
in breast cancer, fundraising, prevention Tags: breast cancer, event, fundraising, research
Carolyn Coley, escorted by Mike Askew
Everyone, regardless of fame, fortune, or family, will be affected by breast cancer, either as a patient or as one who loves a patient.
Beautiful, accomplished actresses of all ages.
A U.S. Supreme Court justice.
An Olympic athlete.
And an Emmy-Award-winning journalist.
Two out of three angels.
Even First Ladies.
And a tenacious Super-Bowl-winning quarterback’s wife.
Iconic music legends.
And my favorite morning show host.
The woman who taught our mothers to cook.
Wealthy wives of influential politicians.
The coolest women’s basketball coach in history.
A medical missionary to Kenya.
An eccentric, independent, beloved aunt.
A true Southern belle who earned her RN as a single mom, after the death of her husband.
A precious elementary teacher who missed her daughter’s college graduation, her daughter’s wedding, and meeting her granddaughter.
And a charismatic, greatly admired camp director.
A sailor (who kicked her husband’s butt—and everybody else’s—in a recent regatta!).
And a brilliant, fun English teacher at Broughton High School.
Even Minerva McGonagall and Miranda Hobbes.
I confess it unnerves me slightly to include these last two in the same phrase, but breast cancer has no respect for personal preferences, age, nationality, ethnicity, culture, religion, politics, or relationships. Neither privilege, affluence, nor prestige will protect any of us from the devastation unleashed by breast cancer.
In 1982, I was honored with the illustrious distinction of being crowned Homecoming Queen for Hale High School. Yes, I am being sarcastic, but at the time, it seemed like a big deal. In 1982, among my most calamitous problems were losing my retainers in the trash (which I found after digging through everyone’s discarded lunch—on multiple occasions), not being accepted at UNC-CH (which I was—eventually), and my parents catching me doing things I had no business doing (which they didn’t as often as they should or could have). Having breast cancer sure does put so many things into proper perspective.
My alma mater has experienced an unusual transformation and is now known as St. David’s School. My friend Elizabeth Ledford coaches volleyball at St. David’s and invited me to their upcoming Pink Out matches. The Lady Warriors will hit hard for breast cancer awareness while raising funds for research.
Together, we can work to discover the causes of and cure for breast cancer. For Lily. For Silas’s wife. For my granddaughters. For the Lady Warriors. For your daughters, your mother, your sisters, your granddaughters, your wife, your girlfriends, your daughters-in-law. Join us at St. David’s on Tuesday!
PINK OUT Volleyball Matches
St. David’s School vs. Halifax Academy
Tuesday, October 12
3400 White Oak Road, Raleigh, NC 27609
JV match—4:00 p.m.
Contests, raffles, and more—5:00 p.m.
Varsity match—5:15 p.m.
Wear PINK!
Pink Cupcakes ∙ T-shirts ∙ Contests
Goodberry’s Frozen Custard ∙ Raffles
How many did you guess correctly?
Actresses—Diahann Carroll, Bette Davis, Brigitte Bardot, Christina Applegate, Olivia Newton-John, Suzanne Somers, Maura Tierney, Lynn Redgrave, and Greta Garbo
Supreme Court Justice—Sandra Day O’Connor
Olympic Figure Skater—Peggy Flemming
Journalist—Cokie Roberts
Charlie’s Angels—Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith
First Ladies—Betty Ford and Nancy Reagan
Brett Favre’s wife—Deanna Favre
Singers, songwriters—Carly Simon, Sheryl Crow, and Melissa Etheridge
Good Morning America host—Robin Roberts
TV Chef—Julia Child
Political wives—Joan Kennedy and Elizabeth Edwards
NCSU Women’s basketball coach—Kay Yow
Nurse and missionary—Shirley Eppy
My aunt—Dorothy Coley
My friend Katie’s mom—Helen Cannon
My friend Becky’s mom—Gayle Tyler
Camp Seafarer director 1981-1992, friend—Judy Bright
Sailor, architect, mom, friend—Shelly Johnson
English teacher, mom, friend—Carol Allen
Harry Potter and Sex in the City stars—Maggie Smith and Cynthia Nixon
Tell me about your friends and family who’ve battled cancer. Include their names and stories of faith and perseverance in the comments section below. Let’s celebrate our brave loved ones for confronting disease and adversity with strength.
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