The tears of a clown

Yesterday was an extremely busy day for me. It was the first day since surgery that my husband and I had actually planned some outings. Although I didn't really feel up to it, I agreed to go because I knew it meant so much to him. The church we'd been a member of for many years was having it's 175th anniversary service and Phil really wanted to attend. I was hesitant about going because we'd have to travel an hour and a half to get to the church, but also, I hadn't seen any of my friends there since I'd had my breasts removed.

I began to get dressed for the service. I couldn't wear one of my "Sunday Go to Meeting" dresses because they were too itchy and scratchy against my bare skin. Since my prostheses were too weighty and cumbersome, I decided to go "flat and fabulous." In order to do that, I had to find something that was a "busy" print that could camouflage my chest. Digging through my closet, I found a nice leopard print, cotton, button down the front shirt, and a pair of black slacks. Surely those would look nice enough for the service and they'd give me something to hide behind.

After I'd gotten my clothes on, it was time for makeup. Before applying anything, I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. I didn't like what I saw and I began to cry. I didn't cry very long because I knew I had to get ready and didn't want my face to be all swollen and puffy before the service. I pulled out my foundation and began to apply it. Slowly and gently, I massaged the 24 hour skin tone color into my face. As I did so, some of the sadness began to slide away. Next came a peachy colored blush. I definitely needed some color in my cheeks because without it, I was pale as a ghost.  Taking the makeup brush, I began to strike it against my cheekbones depositing a light, healthy shade of color. I looked in the mirror again. "That looks a little better," I said to myself. Next it was time for eye makeup. I wanted my eyes to look as natural as possible, so I chose a sandy brown and a dull pink color for the lids. After applying that, I pulled out my waterproof eye liner and trimmed my eyelids in black. I looked in the mirror again and realized, that makeup, just like the clothes, was going to give me great camouflage to hide my fears and feelings. I painted on waterproof mascara next, knowing I'd be crying again at some point in the day. (I didn't want to look like a raccoon like I always did when I cried without waterproof mascara.) The last thing I did was glide some lipstick across my lips. I stepped back to view the finished artwork. "It will do," I thought to myself.

The drive to the church was a long one. When we arrived, I told Phil I wanted to slip in the back door because I didn't want to be the center of attention. I knew many of my old friends would instantly hover around me asking all their caring questions. I was thankful when we walked through the back door and no one was there to greet us. I slipped into the restroom and took a few deep breaths. I looked in the mirror and saw a beautifully painted clown looking back at me. "On with the show..."

I walked into the sanctuary, and just as I'd thought, friends immediately started coming toward me. They were so happy to see me and were genuinely concerned about my health. I greeted each one politely and tried to answer their questions without going into too much detail. Soon, the organist began to play signaling the start of the service. I was thankful to be able to get into my pew and escape for a while.

The service was very informative as one of the deacons took time to read over highlights from the church's history. There were many things I hadn't realized about the church. It was the first church established in Stone Mountain in the year 1839, burned twice, and was rebuilt twice. Since its beginning, it had been a church that has been Bible based and focused on winning people for Christ. Though it's a small church, it's a loving and caring church that accepts people of all nationalities. After the history, the choir sang, and the preacher preached. Phil and I sat quietly reflecting on how faithful God has been to us through the years.When the service was over, we said our goodbyes and headed to the nursing home to visit my mother. It would be another thirty minute drive.

My arms were already very swollen and painful, I explained to my husband as we pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home. Walking ahead of him in the hallway, tears sliding down my face, I continued on to my mother's room. I had to get myself together. I didn't want her to see me crying. Dabbing at my eyes, I mustered up a big smile to greet her. She was surprised to see us and we had a very pleasant visit. It was one of her good days and she wasn't in a lot of pain. I was thankful for that. We stayed almost 2 hours, then left to visit my son on our way back home.

We arrived at my son's house around 3:30 p.m. I was really feeling tired but I wanted to visit with them. It had been several months since I'd seen my oldest grandsons and my daughter in law. The first part of the visit was spent catching up on events in their lives. I began to feel emotional at not being able to be a part of their lives like I'd been able to do in the past, so I excused myself to the restroom. Behind the closed door, I cried again. Glancing in the mirror, I saw a beautifully painted clown face. The face looking back at me looked happy on the outside, but underneath, there was a deep sadness. I remembered a skit I'd seen many years ago done by Red Skelton as he'd slowly put on a clown's makeup. In the skit, he portrayed a very sad and lonely man being transformed by various shades of color. Slowly, just as I'd done this morning, the sadness began to disappear as each consecutive layer of makeup was applied....but underneath all the grease paint, the sadness remained. That's exactly the way I felt at that moment. They had no idea I'd come into the bathroom to cry. I wasn't in there long enough to give them concern, and as I exited the bathroom, I had my "happy" face on again.

We had a long drive back home, so Phil and I ended the visit around 4:15 p.m. After making a few quick cell phone photos, we waved goodbye and left. In the car, I was so overwhelmed with emotion and pain. My arms were huge by now and were tight against my shirt sleeves. The lymphedema is worse late in the afternoon. I was sad to leave my family but glad to be on the way home where I could finally relax.

A friend of mine, who is also a Breast Cancer survivor, called to tell me she'd written a letter and wanted to read it to me. The letter she'd written was to her cancer. I know that seems strange, but to her it was very cathartic. As she read what she'd written, more tears tumbled down my beautifully made up face. It was a good thing I had on waterproof mascara! Every sentiment she shared in her letter was exactly what I felt in my heart. She was crying on the phone as she read the letter to me and I was crying with her. Phil, the solid rock that he is, just listened and kept on driving. 

Finally home, I changed into more comfortable clothes and then, went in to remove my makeup. Taking a makeup removal wipe, I swiped down one side of my face, removing all of the protective, smiling layer on that side. The mirror gave me a glimpse of both sadness and joy at the same time. One side of my face showed my true colors, and the other side showed what I wanted the world to see...happiness and joy...a huge, painted on smile. After removing all of my makeup, I felt relieved. I didn't have to hide at home. I didn't have to pretend that everything was okay.

I went into the living room and sat down with Phil. When I told him that today had been "too much" he shook his head in agreement. He knew I was exhausted both physically and emotionally. I shouldn't have planned so many things in one day. Before surgery, it wouldn't have been any problem to visit 3,4,5, or more stops in one day. Now, my energy level was at an all time low and my emotional level was at an all time high. Things that never bothered me before became huge and out of proportion now. Why was I so hypersensitive?

Taking the used makeup wipes, I held the layers of "face paint" in my hands. All the colors of joy and happiness lay there mingled with my emotional tears. I wadded them up and tossed them into the trash can. Today, I'd shed many tears. I'd hidden them from everyone except my husband. I'd been a beautiful clown with layers upon layers of makeup to hide behind. I wondered if Red Skelton's character, the clown, was ever truly happy without the makeup. Red Skelton, the person, was an extremely happy, loving person but he could transform into various stage characters with ease. I had learned to do this out of necessity through most of my life. I'd been a pro at hiding my feelings, but since cancer, it seemed I was having to do it more and more often.

I don't like hiding behind my makeup, but I do it to keep others protected from my true feelings. Until I am able to get a grip on this rollercoaster of emotion, I'll continue to apply those waterproof layers. The best thing about those layers, is that I can take them off whenever I choose. I don't have to hide behind them unless I need or want to do it. Makeup and grease paint...they are so similar and both of them hide the tears of a clown. Some days I'll need it and some days I won't, but I'm thankful it's available for the days that I do.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

A sign

You've been following along with me on my cancer journey for a couple of months now. You've seen some days where I've been up and some days where I've been down. You've read about very personal things in my life and you've also found some heartfelt devotionals I've shared with you. You never know what you're going to get when you read my blog, but thankfully, you keep coming back for more. Today, I want to share a moment in my life where God showed up right in my front yard. Some people may think it was coincidental, but my husband, daughter, and I know there was no coincidence...

It had been a particularly hard day for me. Only a few weeks after my surgery, I was still in the beginning stages of healing. My body was physically sore and I was struggling. One of my children, my daughter, Erin, had come all the way from Texas to be with me...to help care for me after having both of my breasts removed. I was overjoyed that she was here. Her very presence helped reassure me that I wasn't alone.

Throughout the day, I'd been very emotional. Pain has a way of doing that to you, especially when you can't control it. I tried my best to hide my feelings from my husband and my daughter, but try as I might, the tears kept coming. I was overwhelmed at the realization that I'd just had both of my breasts removed. I felt so unlovely...no longer a real woman. Although I tried not to dwell on my current situation, the reality was ever present. I couldn't help but look down at my chest and see nothing but deep indentions where my breasts used to me. The hideous scars would be constant reminders of cancer's attempt to destroy me.

Phil, Erin, and I had been sitting in the living room talking. The television was on and we'd focus on it for a few minutes and then engage in more conversation. We talked about Erin's family and how they were doing, we talked about upcoming doctor's visits...we bounced from subject to subject. Since we didn't get to see Erin but once or maybe twice a year, if we were lucky, so we were trying to catch up on a year's worth of detail in a short amount of time. Even with all the chit chat, I think Erin could tell I was having a hard time that day.

It was a beautiful, hot, sunny Georgia afternoon. We were thankful to be inside in the cool air conditioning. Just going out for a few minutes would cause one to sweat profusely. Glancing out the window, my husband noticed that it began to rain, and rain extremely hard. Though it was raining, the sun was shining brilliantly. Phil said, "there's probably a rainbow out there somewhere." At that moment, Erin got up to go out and look with Phil right behind her. I had stayed in my recliner. I was hurting too badly to move. With pillows tucked under both armpits, I had finally gotten a little ease from the pain. Suddenly, the front door burst open and they excitedly called for me to come. Very carefully, I rose from the recliner and went to the front door.

There in the middle of our front yard was a perfect rainbow! It stretched from one end of our yard to the other, we could see both ends of it touching the ground. The rain had stopped and as we looked around, there was no other rainbow in the sky except right in our front yard. At the very sight of it, I became so overcome with emotion that I began to bawl. It was a sign! A sign specifically given to me from God. Now some of you might think it was just a coincidence of the hot, summer sun and the quick passing rain, but I know better. You see, I had been seeking God for days. Asking Him to give me some indication that I was going to be okay...that I was going to get through this terrible, unexpected ordeal...that I would live. This rainbow, in my front yard, was confirmation from God that He had heard my prayer and had already answered it. In my heart, I heard a verse from the Bible - Jeremiah 30:17, "I will restore you to health and heal your wounds." A promise....a sign....all for me!

Quickly, I ran back inside to get my camera. Yes, I ran! Even with my sore, aching body...I wanted to make sure and capture this moment so I'd never forget it. I took shot after shot, hoping to get the perfect one. The rainbow was beautiful and brilliant. I had no idea whether or not it would show up on film. My rainbow wasn't in the sky above me, it was right there amid the trees and grass in front of me!

The rainbow lasted only about ten or fifteen minutes. I think God allowed it to be there just long enough for us to see it and understand why He'd put it there. We all stood and stared at it until it gently and quietly faded away. When it was gone, I dropped my camera into the chair next to me on the front porch and collapsed into my husband's strong arms sobbing. Through tear filled eyes, Erin said, "Mama, that rainbow was just for you." I shook my head but couldn't speak. We had all three witnessed God's symbol of promise that day. As I just wrote that last sentence, something just came to me...there were three of us! Three is a very significant number in God's eyes. (here are some examples of the importance of the number three)-

1. Three - Signifies completion or perfection, and unity. Three is the number of Persons in the Trinity.
   • Many significant events in the Bible happened "on the third day" (Hosea 6:2).
   • Jonah spent three days and three nights in the belly of the fish (Matthew 12:40).
   • Jesus' earthly ministry lasted three years (Luke 13:7).
   
   Jesus answered them, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." John 2:19

 I think God allowed three of us to witness the rainbow so we'd all believe what He was promising to be true...that He was indeed going to heal and restore me. That He was going to let me live!

I don't think any of us will ever forget that day. It is forever etched in our memories. On my camera SD card, I have a permanent record of the rainbow however, the digital photograph didn't capture the stunning beauty of the real thing...and I think God meant to keep it that way! He had given the sign of the rainbow, a sign of His marvelous promise, for only our eyes to see. He had not meant it to be photographed.

Today, when I look at that captured image on my computer, I can barely see the faint colors of the rainbow in my front yard...but in my mind, they are as sharp and brilliant as they were on that hot summer day. Phil, Erin, and I were all amazed at what God did and we consider it our own personal miracle. Many people think that God doesn't hear prayer and that He doesn't answer in tangible ways...but we know differently! For those who want to be skeptical, you can think that rainbow was nothing other than misty rays of sunlight enhanced by droplets of water, but to us it was an answered prayer.

I wanted to share this with you today in hopes it would speak to your heart. You may be going through a difficult time right now yourself and you may have been praying for God to answer your heartfelt prayers. You may even be asking for Him to give you a sign or some indication that things are going to be all right. Don't give up hope! You may not get your own personal rainbow, but God will answer you in His perfect timing and in His perfect way. All you have to do is be patient and wait. 

I'm putting the photograph of my rainbow on this page. You'll have to look hard to see it, but it's definitely there. Like I said earlier, I don't think it was meant to be photographed, but being an avid photographer, I couldn't help but take this shot. I wanted to be reminded of God's faithfulness so I'd never forget that day. His promises are very real and He doesn't make them lightly. No, my body will never been the same on the outside, but He has promised to heal and restore me on the inside. Yes, cancer is a very real part of my life but I can't change that but I have a God that has promised me it's going to be okay and I know I can trust Him....afterall, He's give me a sign!

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

 





 

Wearing down

Do you remember the Energizer Bunny commercials that were so popular years ago? This cute little wind up bunny went rolling from place to place while beating on his little drum. He never got tired, never stopped going, and it was all because of the Energizer batteries that someone had installed in his little bunny back. Well, I've been trying my best to be that little bunny. I've tried and tried to keep going non stop but it's just not working any longer. Today, I realized that I need my batteries changed...I need a reboot...I need some energy!

I completed my 9th radiation treatment yesterday and before leaving the clinic, the doctor said she wanted to see me. She needed to examine my throat. (I had told one of the nurses about my hoarseness and difficulty swallowing since the last treatment and she had reported it to the doctor.) In the exam room, Dr. Santiago had me open my mouth wide while she looked inside along the walls of my throat. When she was through with her examination, she asked me to wait in the room while she went to write a prescription for me. I almost laughed when she handed me the prescription and I read the name of the medication. It was called "Larry's solution." I wanted to say, "are you kidding me? Is this some sort of prophylactic you give to all your hypochondriac patients?" Dr. Santiago must have read my mind because immediately she said, "I don't know why this is called Larry's solution, but it's really good. It's going to make it easier for you to swallow and it will also numb your throat as you take it." Well, then...I guess it's legit!

I left the clinic knowing that I'd have a two day reprieve. I was extremely jovial with the staff as I passed each one and called out a cheery, "see you on Monday!" Now it was on to the pharmacy to get my "Larry's solution." I decided to go to the drive thru window because it was so hot outside and I was already feeling drained. When I pulled up and handed the prescription to the pharmacy tech, she looked at it the same way I did. "Ummm...can you wait a minute?" she said. "Sure!" I replied. I watched through the window as she went over to talk with the pharmacist. In a few minutes, she came back to the window and asked me to verify my date of birth and to spell my last name. She told me the prescription would be ready in about thirty minutes. I decided not to wait but pick it up later.

On the way home, I noticed something up ahead on the road but I couldn't tell what it was until I got a little closer. As I approached, I noticed three really large vultures (or buzzards as my Daddy used to say) munching away on some roadkill. I was going about 55 miles an hour and thought surely they'd move as I got close...well, they didn't. So I had to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting them and in the process, the car behind me had to slam on his brakes to keep from hitting me. The birds kept enjoying their lunch so I began wildly honking on my horn and finally they flew away. I guess that's what you get for living in the country, huh?

Once inside the house, I prepared a quick lunch and sat down to eat it. While sitting there, I began to think about how tired I was beginning to feel...not just today, but for the past few days. I'd seen a noticeable difference in my energy level. I'd found myself having to take a nap every day for the past few days and that is not something I normally do. I began to wonder if I would ever feel energetic again...if I would ever feel like doing things again...going places again...enjoying life again. I felt like I was in a dry, barren land. A land of death. I felt like any minute, vultures would be circling overhead, just waiting for me to give up and die. (The mind is powerful and can give great imagery to a visually minded person like myself.) I decided not to linger long in that scenario because it was too depressing. Instead, I began to think about the desert again. Yes, it was a hot, barren land most of the time. And, no...I've never seen one in real life, only in National Geographic magazines and on television movies...but Georgia summer weather, helps me understand how hot it can get there in the middle of a sun parched land. There's nothing beautiful in a scorched desert landscape...just miles and miles of sand and cacti...perhaps a tumbleweed here and there and if you look closely, maybe a rattlesnake or a lizard hiding in the shade of a three armed cactus or perhaps beneath a large boulder.

Right now, it feels like I'm wandering in that desert. As the sun rises on the desert, things begin to heat up quickly...there's very little shade. The ground cries out for life giving water...for relief. Daily, I deal with radiation. My body heats up when the radiation beams pass through it. I become burned from the powerful rays and my body longs for relief. I am tired and weakened by the constant barrage of radiation killing my cells...just like the powerful heat of the noonday sun singes everything on the dry desert floor.

But even the desert doesn't stay dry and barren forever! Heavy rains come and flood it with sustaining water. Plants open and bloom, reaching wide for every last drop of life giving sweetness. The cracked, barren places are filled to overflowing and suddenly, there is hope! I had to see myself this way, too. Although right now I am struggling, feeling like I'm in the midst of a desolate place...I have to remind myself that I won't be here forever. God will shower me with His love and when it's time, I'll pass through this desert and on to green pastures. Those buzzards circling over head will fly away realizing that on this day, they won't receive a free meal. I'm not going to lay down and die, although it would be so easy to choose to do so. I have to find the energy to continue on. Yes, I am parched and weary, but I see some shade up ahead and a tiny storm cloud just on the horizon.

26 more treatments to go...and even still, only God knows when the rains will come to nourish and replenish. I am looking forward to that day. I want to have my energy back again...and then, like the Energizer bunny, I can keep going, and going, and going....

©Bonnie Annis all rights reserved

 1The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the rose and the autumn crocus.

² It shall blossom abundantly and rejoice even with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the excellency of [Mount] Carmel and [the plain] of Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty and splendor and excellency of our God.

³ Strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble and tottering knees.

⁴ Say to those who are of a fearful and hasty heart, Be strong, fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance; with the recompense of God He will come and save you.

Isaiah 35:1-4 Amplified Bible (AMP)

12 Blessed (happy, to be envied) is the man who is patient under trial and stands up under temptation, for when he has stood the test and been approved, he will receive [the victor’s] crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him.

James 1:12Amplified Bible (AMP)

How should I respond to adversity

There's a wonderful quotation by Warren Weirsbe that has touched my heart in a profound way. Mr. Weirsbe explains that there are different responses to adversity. Of the three responses he expounds upon, enlisting trials seems to be the one of most benefit to us. This is what he says:
 
“When trouble comes to our lives, we can do one of three things: endure it, escape it, or enlist it. If we only endure our trials, then trials become our master, and we have a tendency to become hard and bitter. If we try to escape our trials, then we will probably miss the purposes God wants to achieve in our lives. But if we learn to enlist our trials, they will become our servants instead of our masters and work for us; and God will work all things together for our good and His glory.”

The concept of “enlisting our trials” seems daunting, but if enlisting trials makes them slaves and not masters; I need to figure out how to incorporate that into my life. Trials can be overwhelming at times, especially the trial of Breast Cancer. As I began trying to shift my focus from allowing the trial to master me into me mastering it, I found three things I'd like to share with you:

1. God is bigger than any trial I could ever face. This trial was not something that just "happened" to me through fate. God has purposely allowed this into my life and just as easily as He allowed it in, He can remove it if He so chooses.
2. God, in His goodness, would never allow me to suffer for no reason. Although I don't understand why He's chosen to allow me to suffer during this time, I can rest assured that it is part of His divine purpose.
3. When I am overwhelmed during my trial, I don't have to freak out or panic! I know that God has promised to never let me go. Just knowing that He's got me securely in the center of the palm of His hand and that's the safest place I could ever be.

Enlisting trials is difficult. It definitely won’t make them easier to bear, but it will help me understand that they are manageable. When I focus on them through eyes of faith, I can see things a little more clearly. Looking back over my life, there is so much evidence of God's faithfulness. He has proven time and again that He is trustworthy. Just remembering all the trials He's already brought me through helps me know that this one too, shall pass.

In a few minutes, I'll be heading out for my 9th radiation treatment. Just getting up and going to the clinic is a trial for me. My energy level has hit an all time low. I'm not used to things keeping me down. I'm not used to taking it easy. Yesterday I was even forced to take a mid day nap, which I rarely ever do. I was surprised I was so physically drained. I felt as if my body was betraying me by showing weakness, but then I realized my body was telling me something. It was saying "you need to rest to allow healthy cells to grow and replenish. The radiation is not only killing the bad cells of cancer, but it's also killing the good, healthy cells." At that point, I realized I could choose to either endure this trial or enlist it. I chose to enlist it. I was not about to allow this exhaustion to overtake me. Yes I would take naps when I needed them but I would also make sure that I did whatever I could to stay active when I was feeling good.

This morning, I woke up at 5:00 a.m. I got dressed and made my bed. I slapped on my headphones and grabbed my IPod. I jumped on the treadmill and got in a 30 minute workout. Yes, I have Cancer, but it doesn't have me! I'm going to keep pushing. I'm going to keep fighting. I've enlisted this Cancer and it's going to obey me instead of me obeying it. It is a minute by minute choice that I have to make because it isn't easy. It would be so much easier to just give up and give in, but the survivor inside me won't allow that. Enduring, escaping, or enlisting...how will you handle your trial today? I hope you choose to enlist it and allow God to use it for whatever purpose He has for allowing it into you life. It won't be easy, but you can do it! It's your choice. Choose well. 

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Thankful Thursday

Today is Thursday and I'm reminded to be thankful. While I'm thankful every day, I don't always focus as much time and energy on gratitude as I should. I don't think any of us do. We take so much for granted in our every day lives, but today, I choose to be intentional about thanksgiving.

Things I'm thankful for this week:

• I'm thankful that today, September 11th, I can remember and focus on the horrible tragedy that happened 13 years ago. For so many, we never really gave our freedom a second thought...it was just a given that we lived in a free country. After the attacks happened, we all were shaken to the core. We realized that we were vulnerable. We saw the horror of evil. May we never forget that tragic day and may we never take our freedom for granted again. 
• I'm thankful for radiation treatments that can eradicate and destroy rogue Cancer cells that may be lurking in my body. Although it's challenging to go through treatment, I am thankful I have the opportunity to be provided the very best medical care. 
• I'm thankful for unexpected blessings! God continues to amaze me. When I least expect it, I'll get a card or phone call that lets me know someone cares and is thinking of me. I am so loved! Love is one of the greatest gifts of all and one for which I am extremely grateful. 
• I'm thankful for my husband, who after working 10 hours a day, will still clear away the supper dishes and put them in the dishwasher for me without me having to say a word. His servant's heart is so big! 
• I'm thankful for my oldest daughter, Erin, who allows me to cry on her shoulder over and over again. She always listens and never condemns. She is very empathetic toward me, and for that I am very grateful.
• I'm thankful for the opportunity to pray with my Texas grandchildren over the phone. There's nothing like it! I'm thankful to be their Gigi!
• I am thankful for the opportunity to lift up the needs of others before the throne. Whenever I hear of a prayer need, I make a mental note of it so I can pray for that person. 
• I am thankful most of all for answered prayers and just knowing that God does indeed hear and honor our heartfelt prayers. 
• I'm thankful for the beautiful fall color that's sneaking across the leaves right now. I know cooler weather is right around the corner. It's my favorite time of year! 
• I am thankful for modern conveniences like washing machines, dishwashers, refrigerators and freezers that make our lives so much easier. I'm also thankful for electricity to power them!
• I am thankful for other women who travel this Cancer journey with me. We are able to share our fears, concerns, trials, and joys with each other. We hold each other accountable and lift each other up. We are mighty when we band together. It's an amazing "pink" sisterhood and I'm honored to be part of it. 

There are so many things to be thankful for each day. These are just a few. I am so thankful to be alive and to be able to think clearly. I hope I never take anything in my life for granted. Each day is a precious gift. I hope you feel the same way.

©bonnie annis all right reserved

Empathy

Yesterday, while sitting in the radiation clinic waiting for my treatment, I watched as people began to mill about. I have been seeing these same faces for days now because we've all been assigned a treatment time that falls within a thirty minute time frame. I'd seen an older woman in a wheelchair being pushed into the waiting room over the past few days, but had never had a chance to talk with her until yesterday. The woman who pushed her into the waiting room parked her in the middle of the floor and said, "I'll be out in the car waiting." She was a young, black woman obviously hired to be the elderly woman's transportation for the day. As she left the wheelchair bound woman, I watched her face. She couldn't wait to get out of there. You could tell she felt so uncomfortable amid all the Cancer patients waiting for treatment.

A few of us struck up conversation, talking about the weather and trivial things like that. The older woman sat silently and said nothing. She must have been in her late 80's. A large, black cancerous growth was planted right in the center of her nose. It was hard to miss, and I'm sure she was very aware that it was the focal point of her face whenever she engaged in conversation.

I made a point to begin a conversation to her. I could tell she wanted to join in but was timid and afraid. I began to tell her why I was here and then I began to ask about her story. She explained that she lived all alone. Her husband had severe Alzheimer's and she was unable to walk any longer due to several hip and back injuries. She lived on a fixed income and her children would take turns coming to stay with her at night. She said she'd just had her 8th radiation treatment for cancer and explained how hard it was for the staff to get her in and out of the wheelchair. My heart was breaking for her as I listened to her explain that she didn't want to be a burden to anyone.

The nurse came out to the waiting room to get Mrs. W. (I won't share her last name in order to protect her privacy.) As she began pushing the wheelchair, I noticed Mrs. W's feet were not on the foot rests and her feet were dragging underneath the chair and being bent backward on the floor. Quickly I ran over to lift her legs and place them on the foot rests. The nurse looked befuddled and said in a curt tone "oh, her feet weren't on the rests?" I shook my head no and sat back down. It amazed me that this nurse, who was in a profession of caring, hadn't even taken time to check Mrs. W's feet before proceeding to move her wheelchair.

Mrs. W came back into the waiting room after her treatments and waited for her aide to come back into the room and get her. As she sat there with me, we talked about how challenging it was to come to treatment every day. Mrs. W said it was a real hardship on her because she was having to pay someone to bring her each day. I was upset at that fact and told her if I was in better health, I would gladly come and get her but since my surgery, I was unable to push or lift anything. She mentioned how she'd had to hire a taxi one day to bring her and he charged her $40 each way. That infuriated me! This poor little old lady living all alone on a fixed income should not have to pay a dime to be transported to treatment. Immediately I remember that the American Cancer Society offers volunteers in their "Road to Recovery" program who will freely take patients to and from treatment. When I told Mrs. W about the program, she just smiled the biggest smile. It felt so good to help her!

The aide came back in to get Mrs. W and as they were leaving, I got up to open the door to the outside of the office for her. Mrs. W gently grabbed my hand and looked up at me. Without her saying a word, I knew she understood my heart. She knew I had great empathy for her and wanted to help in any way I could. I was honored to do this small thing to assist her.

Any little thing we can do for someone that is offered in love and kindness can show the love of Christ. Opening a door, sharing a smile, an aptly spoken word...tiny things that can mean so much to a hurting heart. I am so thankful God has given me a heart filled with love and mercy for others. If only everyone would take the time to share kindness, what a different place our world would be today.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Tossed about on an endless sea

The beach is my favorite place of all time to spend long, hot, summer days. Walking along the shoreline, I find myself combing the sand for treasures. Something will glint in the sunlight catching my eye and I stop to uncover a buried gem...sea glass. As I turn the hazy sea blue glass over and over in my hand, I wonder where it came from and how long it took to get here.

My life has felt tumultuous lately...being tossed about in a sea of confusion and despair. I started out as a beautiful, completely unique utensil of God's love. I was able to be filled daily and pour back out again and then came Cancer. At the very point in time the word Cancer entered my life, I was poured out...completely empty. Not only was I empty, but I had been tossed into the thrashing sea. I bobbed up and down trying to find a lifeline but there was none. The waves crashed around me taking me this way and that, as I tried to make sense of things. I was carried deeper and deeper into the sea, churning and churning and churning. Water rushed over me and I felt like I was drowning. I couldn't catch my breath. Underneath the waves, I floated in a downward spiral. Brushing against the sand, I felt it's soft embrace and just as soon as I thought I would rest in a safe place; I was swept away against my will. The process began all over again and I never thought it would end. Finally I quit fighting. Relaxing, I let the tide carry me and soon, the strong, powerful waves gave way to gentle, soft, caressing ones. I floated to the top of the water and reveled in the sunlight. It glinted brightly against my skin. I looked about and found myself far from the safety of the shore, but I was at peace. I wondered where this journey would take me. I decided to relent. To trust the waves. To allow them to carry me wherever they deemed fit and thus began my transformation.

After days and days of being tossed about, I no longer resembled my original form. I was no longer a vessel to hold or to empty. I was not transparent and clear. My shape had changed. I had been chipped and broken, cracked along my journey. No longer was I whole. As I continued the journey, more and more damage occurred and my outer body had drastically changed. Something unique was happening to me. I could feel it. My outer shell was thickening and becoming hazy. The sand was refining my rough edges and making them smooth. Still being tossed about, the sand was no longer my enemy, but my friend. The sharp, jagged edges were now gentle and touchable. As my journey continued, I trusted the changes that were taking place. I allowed them to continue. And then one last push deposited me on the sandy shore. I lay there in the sun, basking in it's glow. No longer did I feel fragile and delicate. Now I felt solid and strong. My color had changed, no longer reflecting the sun with ease...now I absorbed it and it absorbed me...we were one.

And such has been my dance with Breast Cancer. Day after day, the changes have come. Some days have been searing and painful, others have been soft and gentle. I have changed and I am changing. The rough edges are being made smooth. Just like the beautiful sea glass along the water's edge, I find myself allowing the process of God's refinement to tumble me into whatever He wants me to be, in whatever way He chooses. I don't know how long it will take for the finished work of art to be complete, but I have allowed myself to participate willingly...to freely accept the journey and trust where it takes me. He has mapped out my course, and I must journey along the path He's chosen. The waves, the sea, the sand are not my enemies...they are my friends. He will use these tools to test, to shape, to refine and I will no longer be the way I once was...I will be different, vastly different. I will be His precious gemstone. There will be none who have experienced the same refining process as I. I am but art in the Master's hand and I cannot wait to be completed.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved