It's only a jacket

Doc and Gerri on the bike

Just a few more days until Christmas and all of a sudden, I've turned into a sentimental sap. Anything and everything causes me to start blubbering. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not usually like this. I think I've been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies.

Each year, as Christmas approaches, I want everything to be just perfect...a cross between a Martha Stewart and Better Homes and Gardens Christmas. I work really hard to make my home inviting and do my best to fill it with memories my children and grandchildren will cherish. It's a lot of work for a few hours of celebration, but who cares.

The day after Thanksgiving we put up our tree and before you know it, decorations fill every nook and cranny. I  dig out all of my Christmas CDs and load the Bose so I have continual holiday joy filling my home. After everything is lit and decorated, I begin baking. Part of my gift giving includes special holiday recipes from years past and it's always a pleasure to remember good times as I'm cooking. Smells trigger memories and hopefully, there aren't burnt ones this year.

Today was a bittersweet day as I ran across a different kind of memory tucked deep in my closet. It was a chilly day and the thin chambray shirt I was wearing wasn't keeping me warm. Heading toward my big walk in closet, I began to rummage through my winter tops in hopes of finding something more substantial. My fingers skimmed over sweatshirts and long sleeve blouses, that's when I saw it, Gerri's jacket...that faded blue denim tucked deep. My hand stopped and paused reverently on the sleeve as I remembered my sweet best friend. I don't know where they came from but suddenly, the dam burst and I was standing in a puddle of tears.

Gerri and Doc at our last lunch together

Gerri had passed away earlier this year. It was so unexpected. When I received the news, I was devastated. My best friend had died. I couldn't process it. We'd just spent the weekend together getting our hair done, going out to eat, joking and laughing and now...she was gone. I didn't realize it until that very moment, as my hand slid down the jacket front...I'd never see her again. I couldn't pick up the phone and call her. I'd have no one to share my secrets with again. We'd never giggle so hard over her bladder control issues again. It wasn't fair.

I took the jacket down from the hanger, held it carefully in my hands thinking it might disintegrate and then all memories of her would be gone. The soft denim jacket was well worn. It was Gerri's favorite. When she'd died, her husband, Doc, asked if there was anything I'd like to have and the only thing I could think of was her jacket. She'd been wearing it the last day we were together. For some reason I just knew, if I held it up to my nose, I'd still be able to smell her...remember her. Doc had lovingly agreed to give me her jacket and had driven almost 50 miles to bring it to me one afternoon after things had calmed down a bit. I'd taken his sweet gift and hung it in my closet, thinking I'd wear it one day as the weather grew cooler, but the jacket had hung there for months and I'd forgotten all about it.

Holding Gerri's jacket was difficult. She had loved this jacket so much and had worn it everywhere she went. As I looked over the front of the jacket, I saw several pins she'd placed on it. There was one for women bikers, one for diabetes awareness and one for breast cancer awareness. That little pink ribbon...she'd put that one there for me. On the back of her jacket was a patch, another ladies bikers symbol. She and Doc were big Harley riders and it was important for her to let others know.

Me in Gerri's jacket

I gently unfastened the buttons and opened the jacket. I slipped first one arm in and then the other. As I managed to get the jacket on, I felt an instant warmth...like a huge, big, Gerri hug. Oh it was so sweet! I could almost hear her whisper in my ear, "It's going to be okay, girl. It's going to be okay." The cozy denim enveloped me and I stood there crying. All the sweet memories of my best friend mingled together into a massive, overwhelming gift that was too hard to bear. Struggling, I took the jacket off and hung it back on the hanger. I couldn't bear to wear it today or perhaps ever. I knew it was only a jacket but it held too many emotions...too many memories...too much love.

As I turned out the light and softly closed the door to my closet, I knew Gerri's jacket was safe in its place amid my winter clothes and the memory of my friend was nestled snug against my heart, just where it always would remain.

The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle brightly  as I stand before it. I'll miss you sweet friend but I'll always treasure your laugh, your smile, and your mischievous grin. Even though you're no longer with me physically, you'll always be in my hearts.

Just the other day, I was at the drugstore picking up a prescription. As I walked through the aisles to get to the pharmacy, I passed a row of feminine hygiene products. Suddenly, I felt a need to stop and as I glanced down there was a package of Tena bladder control pads lying on the floor. I swear I could hear Gerri's snicker starting up and then it turned into full blow gut wrenching laughter...but it wasn't hers I was hearing, it was MINE!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Crying over Rudolph

The weeks before Christmas, during prime time, there are so many Christmas television shows on for children. Some of them are new productions and then there are the old classics like "A Charlie Brown Christmas," or "Frosty the Snowman," or one of my favorites, "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer." I don't have little ones in my home any longer so we rarely turn on these holiday cartoons, but the other nite I was channel surfing and stumbled upon the airing of the Rudolph. In just an instant, I was transported back to my childhood.

Christmas was my favorite holiday hands down. I loved everything about it! I loved decorating the tree, baking cookies, driving through the neighborhood to look at lights, singing carols, you name it, I loved it! As I watched Ukon Cornelius and Hermie the "Wanna Be Dentist" searching for Rudolph and his family who were captured by the Bumble, I could almost hear my mom’s voice saying, "Rudolph is on tonite!” I could just about hear my brother, sister and I respond with loud, childish voices in a resounding “Yeaaaaaahhh” as we clapped our hands. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment. As those memories came flooding back, my eyes started to well up and tears began to fall.

How could I be crying over an animated children's movie? I felt like an idiot! But suddenly I realized what the tears were really about. The emotions of remembering were too real...I felt sad about the loss of childhood innocence. I longed for the days before I knew what dying meant and before I understood the word "Cancer." I thought about how simple life was back then. I thought about how exciting Christmas was...the sights, the smells, the sounds...and yes, even Santa. I did believe in Santa!

I remembered drafting letter after letter to Santa as I revised it over and over again in hopes my list of wants could somehow fit into my parents' meager budget. When I finally got my letter perfected, I went and took it to my mother so she could deliver it to the jolly old man for me. Occasionally, when we could, we'd leave some milk and cookies on the kitchen table. It was hard to drag myself up the stairs and into bed on the night before Christmas. I can still hear the sounds of my Daddy working to put together our bikes or some other toy as he and my mom talked in hushed, frustrated whispers hoping we were already fast asleep.

The next morning, my siblings and I would hurry down the stairs to see the tree laden with presents. We'd empty out our stockings while we waited for our sleep deprived parents to dress and come into the living room. In the blink of an eye, I was there once again...

It's funny how something like a Christmas movie can spark so many memories...good, wholesome childhood memories when life was so much simpler. Today the holidays are harder. As an adult, there are so many things that seem to weigh us down...the loss of morality in our nation, the rampant crime and evil, the heavy things like homelessness and hunger...a world that revolves around the almighty dollar...all the things that a child never had to think about. I long for the innocence again. I remembered what that was like for just one tiny moment as I shed tears over Rudolph…..

But then, I heard the song, "We're a couple of Misfits," and my heart skipped a beat! That's it! That's me! I'm a misfit! I certainly haven't felt like I've fit in lately. I still struggle. As I watched Rudolph and Herbie singing their song, I had to smile. I felt a little better! Taking a step back into my childhood had provided a little affirmation for me. Thanks, Rudolph, for reminding me that being different is okay. Christmas is just a little more than a week away and I'm starting to get a little giddy. I still love Christmas and can't wait for it to get here! 

We're a couple of Misfits video

What I'm thinking:
This Christmas will be so very different from all the others. It will be a time of gratitude and thanksgiving. I wasn't sure I'd be here for this Christmas. In May, when I received my diagnosis, I thought I'd been given a death sentence. As each new day comes, I thank God for allowing me to open my eyes and get out of bed. I never realized how much I took things for granted before. Cancer is a great big wake up call and I never thought it would take something like that to make me "get it," but I'm glad I did.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

A little bit Grinchy

“Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!” ~ Dr. Seuss (How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

I looked at the calendar this morning and realized today is December 10th...that means Christmas is only fifteen days away! Fifteen days! If I were feeling like my old self, the crafty, creative, person I once used to be...I'd be busy...very, very busy. I'd be baking and knitting and shopping galore, I'd be wrapping and packing and crafting some more. I'd be hanging up tinsel and things on the tree, I'd be happy and merry and laughing with glee. But Christmas this year has been quite a chore...at least I did hang a wreath on the door. My tree is put up and the lights twinkle nicely, but something is wrong, my heart feels quite "ice-ly." I'm achy and cranky and not quite like ME. I think I'm a Grinch, though I don't want to be! Why can't this year be like all the years past? Where things went so smoothly and life was a blast? This year should be special and different you say? But let's face reality, we can, if we may.............okay, I've run out of rhymes, so here's the truth...

Though I can't do what I once did in the past. I've done what I could. When my family comes to visit on Christmas day, hopefully they'll realize things had to be different this year. All my "want to-s" didn't quite make it into action. Instead of getting all tangled up in long lines at the store, Amazon offered a very viable option for me. With the help of the postal service, the gifts I chose were delivered right to my door. There's a lot less to wrap and put under the tree, but this year is different, so very different, you see.

I have been feeling a little Grinchy lately. I've felt like I just wanted to scoop up all of the trappings of Christmas and store them away. It's very overwhelming to feel like I have to perform as I have in years past, especially since it's only been 5 months since my surgery. My body is still healing. It reminds me daily. I'm not as young as I used to be and I'm not as energetic either and that's okay. At least I'm still here and I can celebrate with my family and that's all that matters. My tiny Grinch heart is growing bigger by the minute, I can feel it!

But there’s hope for all of us Grinches. In Dr. Seuss’ story, the Grinch was amazed to discover that despite his attempts to stop Christmas, it “came without ribbons, it came without tags, it came without packages, boxes and bags.” He learned a lesson seemingly lost on many of us: “Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more.”
Suddenly, the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes bigger. He turned from his grinchy ways. He brought back all the presents he had stolen and every Who down in Whoville forgave him. They gave the Grinch the seat of honor at their Christmas feast and even let him carve the roast beast.

Perhaps as the next few weeks go by, I'll find that my "Grinchiness" has disappeared. I have so much to be thankful for this year and not only do I want to shift my focus from what I can't do to what I can, I want to let the main thing be the main thing. Christmas isn't about gifts, boxes, and bows. It doesn't matter if my home looks amazing with all of the "Better Homes and Garden's" type decorations everywhere. It's about the birth of our Savior, Jesus, and that's what we celebrate. We celebrate the most wonderful gift of all...the gift that doesn't come from a store...oh, no...the gift that means just a little bit more.

©bonnie annis all right reserved

Where's my happiness?

Most of my readers know I've drastically cut down on my writing. Instead of blogging once a day, I cut it down to once a week and now I feel like I don't have anything to say at all. Perhaps it's just writer's block or perhaps it's just the sheer frustration of having to sit down at the computer and try to come up with something witty to say. Whatever it is, I don't like it.

Something is different in me. Since my surgery, I don't feel the same. Something has drastically changed. I notice it. My husband notices it and those who know me well notice it. I can't pinpoint what it is but it's something. I've always been so happy go lucky. I've always been gung ho to plan something on the spur of the moment. I was the one who took chances. Now I feel strangely different.

There's a movie my children and grandchildren love to watch at Christmas. It's called "Noel." The movie is about a red shiny Christmas ornament named Noel. Noel lives in a box with other glass ornaments but something is very different about him...he's always full of happiness. When the other ornaments in the box gripe and complain at being taken out year after year and hung on the tree, Noel is always excited. When the lid on her box is lifted and he is gently removed from his home Noel squeals with glee. The story continues year after year with new families coming to live in the house where Noel's box of ornaments reside. Over the years, the ornaments receive chips and dings when not handled with care. Some of the ornaments are broken and discarded. Noel, survives throughout years and years of families who hang her on the tree at Christmas. But one year, he falls from the tree and breaks. As he falls, he lands right at the foot of the Christmas tree and sees a tiny nativity scene. It is there that Noel realizes something is vastly wonderful and different. As he breaks into many shattered piece of glass, his inner happiness is released and he flies off into oblivion content to be happy and fulfilled inside. As he glides away, he says, "my name is Noel and I have a happiness!" That movie, with its simple message of Christmas joy, continues to be one of my grandchildren's favorites. Perhaps it's because Noel is always positive, always happy no matter what his circumstances are...he just keeps smiling.

As I thought about Noel today, I realized maybe my happiness is missing. This is the time of year I love most. I love decorating. I love seeing Christmas plays. I love singing carols. I love being in church and celebrating Christ's birth. Why do I feel so blah? I haven't wanted to go anywhere or do anything. I stay holed up in my house. I still feel so self conscious about not having my breasts. I know I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. How long does it take for this feeling of hopelessness to pass? Why am I letting my lack of breasts dictate my life? I don't have answers. I am very frustrated.

This past weekend, some of my very dear friends drove all the way from Lawrenceville to see us. We don't get to see them often, but when we do it is such a joy. We met for lunch and exchanged Christmas gifts. We had a very nice time but I wasn't my usual chipper self. After lunch, my friend wanted to go shopping. Normally, I would have been eager to go but this time, I wasn't. We did go into one craft store together but instead of looking all through the store like I used to do, I just got what I needed and left. I know my friends must have been baffled at my lack of enthusiasm for shopping, especially at this time of year, but I just wasn't up to it. Even after 4 1/2 months, my body still hurts. I can't seem to get used to the physical limitations. I'm finding I have to take breaks often. Another cancer survivor told me I would have to learn to listen to my body. It's hard to hear your body say, "Get me out of here...I'm ready to give up." It's really challenging to be in constant pain. I feel like Noel when he off the tree and shattered.

I'm not a negative person. It hurts me to be writing this post today, because the people who know me well know I'm not like this. I'm trying, really I am. I've decorated my house for Christmas, although it is a far cry from what I have always done in the past...but I did try. I haven't wanted to go out to shop...not once. I did order a few things on the internet for my Texas grands, but that's it.

My happiness is still deep inside of me. I know I haven't lost it completely, but it isn't the same as it once was...this Christmas will be very different for me. I know when the kids and grandkids come to visit, they'll bring their wonderful energy and joy. They'll fill the house up with happiness that I'm missing right now. Maybe that little boost of enthusiasm will spark something deep inside and allow my happiness to flow free again.

Please don't misunderstand, my happiness comes from Jesus and I know I'll never lose that but I'm just having a tough time this year. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. Maybe I need to give myself more time for my body to heal and begin to feel better. Maybe things will be very different in another month or two...I sure hope so.

Watch Noel Part 1
Watch Noel Part 2

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Practicing His Presence

I read a blog post the other day that really touched my heart. It was written by another breast cancer survivor, but this woman has terminal stage 4 cancer...hers is much more advanced than mine. She realizes that she celebrates the final moments of her life and as she prepares for Christmas with her family, she's decided, like so many of us with cancer, that this year should be more about presence than presents. In her post, she talks about how the holiday trappings can rob us of our joy if we let it, and I agree with her. Stressing over finding the perfect present is not how I want to spend my Christmas, especially this year. As someone diagnosed with cancer, it's hard not to focus on wondering will this be my last Christmas? Of course, she has much more reason to think that way than I do, since I'm only stage 2B instead of stage 4 but still, it is in the back of our minds. Every moment becomes precious as time ticks quickly by.

Holidays past were filled with Christmas baking and wrapping and shopping. All those things were lots of work and yes, they did bring their own special joy with them but, as a cancer survivor, it's funny how your perspective changes. The materialistic side of Christmas doesn't matter to me any longer, I want something more. I want His presence instead of presents.

In reading my Bible this morning, I was reminded that I shouldn't focus on the past. It's so easy to compare holidays year after year, isn't it? I miss those chaotic, busy Christmases of years gone by, but this year, a quiet Christmas will be nice....a Christmas where I can focus on the main thing...Jesus. 

This year has been filled with unexpected challenges and changes. This year has brought with it both deep sadness and overwhelming joy. To be quite honest, this year is a year I would love to forget, but I cannot. I cannot forget this year because God has used it to test my humility. He has used it to teach me to trust. He has given me this year to grow me into more Christlikeness. But it has been hard. It has been extremely hard. Some days I've done well in meeting the challenges and some days I've failed miserably. But through it all, God has been patient with me. He has loved me through it. He has put people in my path that I would never have met if it weren't for this ugly gift of cancer. 

Our tree will be barren of gifts this year and that's okay, because we have something of much more value underneath our tree. We have the gift of life that God has given to us. We have the gift of love He has provided for us, and we have hearts filled with gratitude at His merciful grace. We won't get tangled up in the trappings of Christmas this year. Instead of ripping off paper and ribbons, we'll unwrap the most perfect gift of all...we'll unwrap Christ. We'll remove our preconceived ideas of what He's doing in our lives and allow Him to work freely...teaching, testing, gleaning, growing. We will practice His presence. 

We can practice His presence by focusing on His attributes, by communing with Him daily, by living in the moment, and trusting Him fully. John Ortberg says:

• God is always present and active in my life, whether or not I see him.
• Coming to recognize and experience God’s presence is learned behavior; I can cultivate it.
• My task is to meet God in this moment.
• I am always tempted to live “outside” of this moment. When I do that, I lose my sense of God’s presence.
• Sometimes God seems far away for reasons I do not understand. Those moments, too, are opportunities to learn.
• Whenever I fail, I can always start again right away.
• No one knows the full extent to which a human being can experience God’s presence.
• My desire for God ebbs and flows, but his desire for me is constant.
• Every thought [and I would add, “feeling”] carries a “spiritual charge” that moves me a little closer to or a little farther from God.
• Every aspect of my life – work, relationships, hobbies, errands – is of immense and genuine interest to God.
• My path to experiencing God’s presence will not look quite like anyone else’s.
• Straining and trying too hard do not help.

Living in the moment has been a recurrent theme of mine this year. God has continually been teaching me that I only have been given the current moment and that is where I should focus. There is literally no way to practice God’s presence if we are being pulled into the past by shame or regret or into the future by worry. The only time in which we meet with God is in the present moment, but very few people actually know how to live there. Hurry and worry are usually what we practice! Oh how freeing it has been to let go of the past, release the future, and live life in the present. It has been the most wonderful of blessings to learn also that practicing His presence in the moment is exactly how He desires us to live.

Brother Lawrence, a monk who served in Paris during the seventeenth century, in his first letter, says: "when we are faithful to keep ourselves in His holy Presence, and set Him always before us, this not only hinders our offending Him, and doing anything that may displease Him, at least wilfully, but it also begets in us a holy freedom, and if I may so speak, a familiarity with GOD, wherewith we ask, and that successfully, the graces we stand in need of. In fine, by often repeating these acts, they become habitual, and the presence of GOD is rendered as it were natural to us."

Jesus understood fully that He was to have the mind of Christ. He always focused on His Father's will. Practicing God's presence allows us to experience fully the type of relationship God intends for us to have with Him. It isn't something that comes easily; it does take practice. If you've never practiced the presence of God, you can start today. One of the best ways to start is to focus on His goodness and mercy. Admit that you long to have Him be Lord of your life. Listen to that still small voice that guides and directs you into His ways of holiness. Take it moment by moment. As you relinquish your will to His, you will find that practicing His presence becomes easier and easier every day.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

   

^"8 Come close to God and He will come close to you. [Recognize that you are] sinners, get your soiled hands clean; [realize that you have been disloyal] wavering individuals with divided interests, and purify your hearts [of your spiritual adultery]." James 4:8

 ^"18 Do not [earnestly] remember the former things; neither consider the things of old.¹⁹ Behold, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs forth; do you not perceive and know it and will you not give heed to it? I will even make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." Isaiah 43:18-19