Emmy Lou and Me

At 15, I had thick, dark brown hair with streaks of reddish brown. Not exactly auburn - that would have been lovely, but no such luck. Still, people did ask if I died it. I didn't. Then at 18, I noticed random white strands. Egads! The Stevens' curse of premature white hair! Thanks, Mom. One day I pulled out exactly 100 strands, and that hurt. But what hurt more was that it made not one iota of difference. There were hundreds still there, so I quit.

Years went by, and I grew my hair long. It was so thick that it sometimes gave me a headache with its weight, but still, it grew. So did the white. One day, still in my mid-twenties, I got on an elevator and a man got on behind me. I began to feel nervous, standing in the closed in silence, my back to him. I could feel his eyes on me. Then he quietly said, "Miss, is that natural? You are so young to have so much white hair." "Yes," I said. As he exited (to my great relief) he said, "Well, it's beautiful." At least he didn't think I looked like a skunk.

I hit forty, and the mane of white and brown continued to grow whiter. Entire sections never did turn though, and it looked like I'd planned it that way. Someone at church asked where I got my hair "frosted." "God does it," I answered. I had nothing to do with it.

More years passed, and the white began to overtake the brown in quantity. In the freezer aisle at the grocery store one day, a man approached, "I'm sorry to intrude, but you have beautiful hair. You're so young to have that color, white and brown together. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?" "No thank you. I'm married, but it was kind of you to ask," I said.

One day at work a man approached. "Are you Irish?" "Well, yes, I do have some Irish blood, I responded. "Why?" Well, you're too young for white hair, and the Irish have hair that turns white early, but not completely. I thought you might be Irish, with your white and reddish brown hair." I turned him down for coffee, too. Why do men like white hair so much? I wondered. And...why do women think they have to dye it!?

Now that I'm sixty, white hair is normal. But most people's hair is one of three things: the original natural, out of a bottle, or white. But me? I have old lady white hair, and I have girlish brown hair, both natural. When I pin it up, it appears fairly dark from behind, white from the front. And all I do is wash it. To be honest, I rarely even comb it; it's too curly and wild. Then other days, it's nearly straight as can be.

I've never really known what to do with my hair. In the Bible, white hair is called, "a crown of glory." When I was bald from chemo, I missed my crown. On "feeling ugly" days, I put on a hat or pin it up. Some days I know people look at it, with it's unusual color. But my hair is not me. It's just something God gave me to help me feel secure out in the world.

Many years ago someone told me that I reminded her of Emmy Lou Harris. We were both young then and I was thrilled at the thought of even coming close to her beauty. When she stopped dying her own hair, her true beauty was revealed. She is stunning now in her "crown of glory." I'll happily stay in this place, wearing the crown God gave me.

Beauty

I'm beginning to have some understanding of how a pitcher feels about halfway through a game that appears to be a rare "no hitter." Things look good, keep it up... If he can just continue his perfect pitches, he'll get the perfect game and be in history books. Anticipation, fear, trying to not think too much about a possible end to it all. And such joy when it does happen.

This morning the sun is shining. And has for nearly two weeks. It's absolutely gorgeous outside. How long can it last? Clearly we don't live in northern Ohio, where I grew up with clouds @ 70% of my life. Or Oregon, where we spent a week in rain that did NOT cease. And can trees grow that tall without loads of moisture? How long can the sun shine here in MD? Clouds have to show up eventually.

A street light (and who puts street lights up on rural roads by houses on a peninsula, anyway?) is outside our bedroom window. After years of barely being able to sleep in the bright light, we got ridiculously expensive custom blinds to cover our windows. Then I added curtains, just to be certain. Now it is dark when we go to bed. Then each morning, I truly have no idea what it's like out there. Oh, I can tell if the dark has passed away, but until I raise those blinds, I have no clue as to the weather.

So, for the past two weeks, I am thrilled at the glory of the beauty out there. I pull up the blinds and literally gasp, "Oh! It's gorgeous!"

If you have a hot fudge sundae every night, it can get old, right? It's still good, but not as enjoyable as it once was. We all get tired of wonderful things when they are used too often. But what if you know that after your month of sundaes, you can never have another? Ever. What then? I'll bet you'll love the last as much as you loved the first.

So, I love my early morning glory. It is absolutely gorgeous out there. Every day. As I sit here today, the leaves are slowly falling to the ground, covering the yard. Soon it will end, and we'll have to rake up the once lovely leaves, by then brown, soggy and too much for our lawns. But today, well today is a gift. I don't know when it will end, but for now, I love the beauty before me, and have no worries over when it will end.

Anticipation, fear, trying to not think too much about a possible end to it all. That's for the pitchers; it's not for me. I live for today. And today is beautiful.

Lincoln and Friends

What do you MEAN it's November!? Do we just forget a lot more days when we're older, or are the days truly going by more quickly, the earth spinning faster? This is insane. Yesterday I mailed Valentines. Didn't I? Wait, knowing me, I probably did.

I've not yet announced my cancer situation here, but assuming most of you know about it anyway, I'll just go on. The surgery will be Nov. 24, the day before Thanksgiving. After so many years of this, it's not scary. It just ...is. I'm obedient; I do what I'm told. Except when I don't. But at this point in life, I do what Steve and my doc tell me to do. One loves me. And frankly, the other seems to also. And both are Believers who talk to God about me. I'm sure of that.

Today is about the tenth day in a row where the sun has shone gloriously. Beautiful. The tree colors are in full glory, and most leaves here have yet to fall. They'll disappear soon enough. But for now, I wake up each day, throw open the shades in anticipation and nearly yell with excitement, "Yes! It's gorgeous out there!" Heck, even on dark or rainy days anymore, I'm just glad to look out and see life.

What a strange way to live... waking up each day with death on my mind. It sounds so dreary, but it's not. As a Believer, there are moments when I can hardly wait! But as a wife and mother, not so much. As in, I want to stay here with my three beloveds. I don't want them to suffer. My thoughts are more about what heaven will be like, the people I look forward to seeing there, (like Catherine, and Abe, and Ian) and most of all, (I can barely breathe this into words) meeting Christ!

But for now... today is Sam's birthday. He's 22 today. I have gifts, will not bake a cake (since I quit that in 1977 when the one I'd just baked dropped and nearly cracked the floor), and we plan to take him out to dinner. I also plan to do his chores for him. He asked for no gifts; it's the least I can do. The most I can do is love him, support him, and teach him how to be a good man. So far, I think that's what I've done.

Each day now, I live my life in spite of the cancer, I live my life in spite of the prognosis. And most of all, I live my life in spite of me.

I Can't See the Wind, So It Must Not Exist

For the past week, the view out the dining room window has been gorgeous. I look out to see a red, gold, orange and yellow leafed tree, bordered by the still green leaves of everything else. Fabulous. Stunningly bright and beautiful. Today it's half bare. The wind blows and life goes on, cycle after cycle.

Have you ever seen the wind? No of course not, we only see the effects of it. Today a few leaves are moving slightly, but once in awhile they almost jiggle with excitement as little gusts flutter around. Some days entire branches sway back and forth. Sometime soon the leaves on the ground with fly up into the air in a swirling dance, landing somewhere as yet unknown. All that visible, physical activity, but we can't see the wind itself, just what it does.

Have you watched the leaves turn colors? No, not, "Wow, look outside. The trees have all turned red or brown." I mean have you ever looked at a green leaf without turning away until it is orange? or yellow? ...or gone? Yes, we notice the gradual changes, but none of us have seen the change actually happening. Hey, I've probably seen my own face in a mirror 99.9% of my days. No, I never saw it grow old, but it is. Things happen that we cannot see.

Can you see the love someone has for you? The love you have for someone else? No, you can't. Oh, you see the effects of that love, but not the love itself. A kiss, a hug, a gift...all due to love, but they are not the love. Love is very real in your life, but you cannot literally see it for itself - it's not meant to be seen, or even understood I suppose. Just experienced.

So much of one's life is invisible to the eye, but is totally believed in, sensed or felt in our hearts. So why is it that people who experience and believe without doubt that these things exist are so loathe to believe that an invisible God can exist? What, we can't actually see Him, so He must not be real?

"Well, I see the leaves moving, so wind must exist." "The leaves changed colors, and it doesn't matter that I can't explain that scientifically." "I feel such joy and passion for this person so my love must be real." Okay, you choose to believe in some things you absolutely cannot see or understand, since it makes sense to do so.

Yet it makes no sense to believe in God, since you can't see Him, is that it? Tell me, how is that any different? You see unexplainable things happen, but rather than attribute them to an all-knowing God, you think, "That just happened. God is the fantasy of fools and dreamers."

Oh really?

Tips For A Full Life

1. Get born.
2. Listen enough to learn something.
3. Eat well and enjoy the gifts of the earth. (Except for lima beans, no way.)
4. Learn how to read so as to have access to truth (Bible), mystery (Sherlock Holmes) and unexpected faith (Annie Lamott).
5. Laugh, and make others laugh, especially when it hurts. It hurts less then.
6. Love for the sake of giving, not getting.
7. Help things grow: my kids, my garden, my patience, my knowledge, my love for Steve.
8. Live in today, not tomorrow. Just relax and live 24 hours at a time, then do it again, and again, till it ends.
9. Put others first, me last.
10. Go home.

Pissed Off

How's that for a nice title by a Christian writer?! But I am.

Why is it that some people (am I crazy in thinking it's usually men?) think they are above the rest of mankind? As in doctors. (Insert loud growling noise from grown woman.) I'm sure you've dealt with your share of arrogant professionals who treat you like dirt too. One of Steve's doctors/jerkoffs has called - yet again - to reschedule an appointment made in March of this year. That's seven freakin' months ahead of time, but somehow not good enough.

Now the guy who supposedly has devoted his life to practicing medicine has decided he has something better to do on a Friday afternoon than see his already scheduled patients. Like maybe go to some sporting event, or a little vacation to some island. Jerk. Yes, I'm angry. (Note to self: never write when angry or you'll look like a dope. I don't care.)

...

So, after that last sentence, I made some calls, found a new gastroenterologist, one who can see a new patient within 6 weeks, no 7 month wait. And I'm about to call and fire, okay cancel the aforementioned doctor. He canceled his appointments one too many times for us. No slander here, just the facts of how he runs his practice.

I know full well that this guy will never know, care or be harmed by our "firing" him. But his name is Michael Epstein of Annapolis, MD. Thought you'd like to know his name, in case you ever need a throat doctor. You'll know who not to call.

So Full

Did you ever think (or assume) that you'll never see someone again? Someone from your past who might have been important, but with life moving forward you simply know it won't ever happen? Then it does happen. How wonderful is that?!

The phone rang this afternoon while we were watching an old movie. Phone numbers show momentarily on our TV, so we usually don't answer unless we recognize it. I didn't know this one, but something made me answer anyway. "Hello, is this Linda Richardson?" "Yes." The voice was vaguely familiar but I couldn't quite place it. "Hi, this is Dr. Hardy-Cartwright." My heart skipped a beat.

On the phone was the doctor who diagnosed my cancer ten years ago, the woman who probably saved my life. My heart was in my throat. She had just left her church service and wanted to know if she could come by our house to say hello. In shock, I said yes.

She'd gotten my note about the book, and was so moved (had she even thought of me all these years?) that she wanted to see me. Twenty minutes later, there she was at my door, a huge, beautiful bouquet of flowers in her hands. Her eyes lit up as she said, "Oh, I DO remember you!" We sat and talked for awhile. It had been over five years since I last saw her (now seeing my oncologist instead monthly) yet I've never forgotten her kindness and wonderful care. Still beautiful, she hasn't aged at all. And now I realize that she is also a Believer. What a small world.

We talked about my treatments, subsequent surgeries, chemo, and Dr. Boice, with whom she still associates. And she understood it all. So, I'm boring you, but for me, it was a total treat. This woman saved my life. And now she's about to read 'the rest of the story.' I was simply her patient from long ago, but she cared enough to come see me, all these years later. Can you believe that?!

My life is so full. My health is so bad. But my life is so full.