Walking Home

So the story goes like this….As I have previously mentioned (many times) I grew up in a small but wonderful church. No printed order of worship, no deacon of the day….therefore you needed to be on your toes because you might be called upon to pray…no warning or time to prepare.

Daddy loved telling this story so….well ….it might be true. Daddy was sitting by a man who had “nodded off” mid service. Daddy gave him a swift nudge and told him he had been called upon to pray…..and he immediately stood up and started praying. Much to his chagrin and entertainment of the congregation……

Daddy’s story might have happened, who knows. But it probably kept folks awake during the sermon for quite a while.

My parents were awesome “pray-ers”….. so much so that I remember mother’s words. exactly……… she always started with “Our most gracious Heavenly Father and our Almighty God”…and most of the time, after all these years, so do I. Kudos to my little Baptist church for calling on a WOMAN to pray aloud! I grew up thinking women could do anything… but be a deacon or preacher, ha.

I’m kinda over that now….

Daddy will be remembered for the benediction he gave almost every Sunday…” go with us now to our separate places of abode and may thy love abide with us now and forever” I swear I can hear him now……. all these years later.……his prayers were comforting. An assurance that God the Father was listening.

I specifically remember two times our little church opened it’s doors for community worship and prayer. The first time I was a child. President Kennedy had been assassinated and I remember lots of tears and sadness in our house. Mother planned the prayer meeting and Becky sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic……prayers were offered up for our nation in an uncertain time….some of you might feel this way now.

The second time was much later. My brother was flying helicopters in the Arctic and communication with Mike and his passenger was lost. Law enforcement channels managed to get the word to my parents…….For several heart wrenching days we assumed he had crashed somewhere in the Arctic and was lost forever. Our beloved little community gathered together to pray and the church was filled as petitions were spoken…… and….after a week, he was found.

Praise the Lord.

I know many of you remember when Bruce Tippit opened the doors of First Baptist Jonesboro for the community to come and pray after 9-11….we were so frightened and trying to make sense of what had happened…… Church was a place of comfort and we were unified in our prayers of lament.

All of these memories have been on my mind and heart of late…….As I’m participating in a morning Bible Study focusing on prayer. (a perk of being retired)….. The study is called “When you pray” and focuses on 6 prayers in the Bible. It’s been really, really good and has jogged my memory and challenged my own approach to prayer. These 6 prayers and heartfelt group conversations have been inspiring and encouraging to those of us (me) who desperately need a greater understanding and motivation to pray….

I am fortunate to go to a Sunday School class filled with Pray-ers. Our prayers tend to be prayers of petition and intercession….especially as we grow older. But prayers of adoration and unity are still there. A certain man in our Sunday School class, who often prays at the beginning, begins his prayer like this….”Good Morning God” ….. and we all acknowledge the Father before the conversation even starts. I love that.

I’m a Christian but I’m also needy, ha. I don’t know if you have it all together and all figured out, but I surely do not…..I must admit this study has realigned my thoughts on prayer….and encouraged me pray more often. Remembering 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 which tells us to rejoice always, pray without ceasing and give thanks in all circumstances….

The chapters/sessions cover;

• The Lord’s Prayer
• Petition and Thanksging
• Adoration
• Lament
• Intercession
• Unification

If you are interested in the book it’s “When you Pray”.… there are 6 women contributors and they do a wonderful job with each session.

All of this to say…..we need to pray. We need to pray more. We need to not be afraid of honest conversation with the Father. He knows us. He loves us. He wants to hear from us.

He’s listening.

“Jesus on the mainline indeed”

Just so y’all know, survivor’s guilt is real.

I’ve been a cancer patient since 1997……yes, that’s 27 years for those counting.

For 27 years my friends and family have worried and prayed for my survival….. and many of those precious, precious people have gone on before me and are now in the presence of our Lord…

Since my original diagnosis, I have lost my Dad, my brother Mike and my sisters JoKay and Becky. All of who prayed and worried and loved me. We’ve also lost both of Jack’s parents who put their lives on hold to help us in 1997-98

And they’re all gone.

Fast forward to the latest cancer rodeo. Again, precious people in our community and our church were there with us. They prayed, sent cards, brought food and served us in every way possible. Being the hands and feet of Jesus. And yet a dear friend’s husband,who prayed with us often ,was taken by COVID. A sweet lady who was one of a friend group who brought food and laughter to my house when I needed it most, was taken by cancer…and I might add that the drug which facilitated my survival didn’t work for her.

Then suddenly this week we lost a precious one from our Sunday School and community group. It was sudden, unexpected and shocking to us all.

Somebody needs to explain all of this to me because I’m at a complete loss.

Please don’t say it was prayer alone that “saved” me because it didn’t save my friends and family members. Prayers were sent on their behalf too. And by the way, some of them were WAYYYYY better people and Christians than me…..as you well know.

I suspect some of you might say that it’s God’s will. Well, that’s a tough one for me also. We all pray “not my will but thine be done”….. but I just can’t believe God sits on the throne sending cancer, tornadoes and car wrecks. I’m sorry, I don’t.

So, friends……what are we to do with that survivor’s guilt that nags and pierces our hearts every time we lose a soul ….when for some unknown reason we’re still here, enjoying our health and “unblown away” houses.

Are there any answers other than ………..I don’t know?

The older I get my questions are more difficult, and impossible to answer. When our children were young we taught them to pray for protection and safety and health. But did we teach them how to react when those prayers weren’t answered as we asked?

Probably not.

Here’s the rub. None of this has weakened my faith in the Almighty God, creator of this wonderful universe and the salvation and grace given by Jesus Christ our Lord.

We are human. We get sick. We die. Our houses get blown away by tornadoes and hurricanes. Devastating diseases happen to wonderful humans and even precious babies for heaven’s sake. We suffer tragedies and horribly unexplainable accidents.

But our faith sustains us.

My faith tells me a better day is coming. That indeed, joy will come in the morning….My faith helps me understand that life isn’t fair, deserved or understandable. We fall on our knees and we pray for health and protection, with full knowledge that our bodies are mortal and bad things inevitably will happen……

But the “the goodness of God” is ever present.

His goodness is present in our love for each other, our beautiful earth and our very existance. I’m not sure my survivor’s guilt will ever go away….at least not until my next diagnosis, ha….but until that day I plan to live fully. I’ll love my family, my church, my friends and community and I’ll cherish each moment of life.

I so hope you do too. Even when it’s hard.

All of this to say……my prayer list will continue to be long. I will pray for strength, courage, patience, perseverance and yes, health for those I love and care for. I’ll still have questions. I’ll still be sad and heartbroken. The older I get, I’m pretty positive that sadness will be more frequent.

So for today…………….

Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance

Jude 1:2

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalms 34:18

Amen.

I couldn’t sleep last night…probably because I’m retired and think it’s my duty to take a nap every afternoon, but that’s a story for another day.

So… last night it occured to me that I have distinct and clear memories of every fall I’ve taken since elementary school. Let’s explore that issue, shall we?

• I was in 5th grade. Our favorite substitute was with another class on the playground. She (Karen Carhart Perkins) was the coolest woman I’d ever met. She was tall and thin, an ex stewardess (this is before they became flight attendants) who drove a mustang convertible and smoked. I knew this because my mother witnessed he “shameful” emptying of the car’s ashtray. Anyway, as my friends and I raced toward her for hugs, I stumbled and fell hard. Keep in mind the Couch elementary school playground in 1967 was pretty much a rock quarry. I was humiliated and BLOODY. But hugs happened anyway….
• Skip forward to 1977. The Couch High School Indians basketball team was in the state tournament and playing in Springfield at SMS (now Missouri State) in MacDonald arena. True to fashion, my parents wanted to eat before the game at the Piccadilly cafeteria in Battlefield Mall. It was raining so Daddy let me out at the entrance as not to get my cheerleading uniform (an ever so cute black and white number with red fringe) wet. Great idea except the rain had caused the concert to be slippery. I was running and my saddle oxfords failed me. I’m quite certain I went airborn and landed on my back, providing shoppers with an unexpected experience. Adding insult to injury…. we lost the gam
• The next exhibition of my lack of coordination is circa 1982. I’m in Europe having the time of my life with approximately 40 of my William Woods besties. We’re touring and visiting yet another castle when my toe catches the concrete and I do a HARD fall. My purse and camera spattered on the ancient grounds….. the film flies out of the camera (yes youngsters, cameras used to have FILM. My numerous Alpha Phi sisters were there but since I failed to break anything we all laughed. Gwen, I’m looking at YOU.
• Fast forward to Brookland teaching days. As per usual I am leaving my classroom in the afternoon with hands full and a can of diet coke. My ever so cute shoes slipped on the hall decline and I fell/slid all the way down. I raised the diet coke can and nary a drop was spilled. I’m sure I was on camera but the admin must not have been watching.
• Staying in the school lane, it was Nettleton this time. My classroom had an outdoor entrance making it ever so convenient. On this particular morning I’m carrying all the necessary items for a teacher’s lounge potluck. I catch my toe (again) and go flying across the room on my belly. Thank God for tupperware lids or my classroom carpet would have bitten the dust. Which leads me to ask…If a teacher falls in the classroom and nobody sees it does it make a sound?
• Next on the list….for some reason I think it’s a great idea to visit “Lil bit of Christmas” at ASU after work. I’m tired but ready to enjoy. Going into the Convocation Center I trip on the sidewalk, my watch buries into my arm and breaks and I’m once again humiliated in front of the masses. There was blood so I thought it best to take my”lil bit of dignity” home.
• This time I can’t remember the exact year…. but Carter was playing on a traveling soccer team and we had a tournament in Mountain Home. I do remember that it was tax season so it’s just Carter and me…. after checking into the hotel we head out to eat. Everything’s fine. I pay and we’re out the door. Here’s the rub. I had on a new pair of platform sandals….so darn cute…. but as we’re walking out one of those suckers turned on me. I didn’t fall at first…it was one of those “I can stop it” kind of falls. This time I plow into a concrete pole. Yes, there were people watching but we didn’t know them so it was ok. I had the bruise of my life on my chest…. I’m thinking we won the tournament so it was worth the sacrifice of my dignity (again)
• in 2007-8 Coach Randy Coleman decided Carter Callahan would be the JHS quarterback. The Callahan’s were all up in it. When Randy told us the Quarterback camp at North Texas would be a good idea we were ready. Well…..I was, Jack had to work. Off to North Texas Carter and I go. We navigated through the Dallas traffic to Denton and I was quite satisfied with myself. As we were checking in that day I quickly observed the absence of any females. The testosterone was thick. Football players, football fathers, college players…..it was a sight. I was no doubt enjoying the view when my pink flip flop caught on the carpet. Keep in mind that my flip flops matched my pants and I was pretty proud of myself. After splattering in front of the audience……several “he-men” coaches and players came to my rescue. Carter was, I’m certain, embarrassed to death. His only words? MOM, PICK YOUR FEET UP. Needless to say I was the only pink pant, flip flop wearing music teacher that camp had every seen………staying on this trip…the next morning I was filling the rolling cooler with ice from the hotel ice machine since it was hotter than….well, hotter than Texas. As I pulled the cooler out of the room it turned on me and I fell unceremoniously in the hotel hallway. This time nobody saw it…. as I returned to the room I thought…..I have to laugh about this with somebody. I immediately called my friend Janis who loves to laugh at people…and we cackled together.
• This time I’m home. Jack and I are watching SNL and suddenly we hear what sounded like a shot. Once we realized it wasn’t, we saw a bottle of sparking wine had blown it’s cork and shot off the wall. The liquid was dipping from the wine cabinet all over the floor…. Jack yells ” quick, get a roll of paper towels” and I scurry to the pantry to get them. As I’m hurrying back I miss the step into the kitchen and slide across the floor. I silently get up and go to the den with the towels without acknowledging my fall. Jack was irritated enough already.
• Last one, I promise. After having Gamma Knife Surgery on my brain I’m wobbly. I’m ok, just a little wobbly. My dear friend Sandra has invited me to lunch at Sue’s Kitchen. She’s being ever so kind and says let me pull up to the door and let you out. She did. I manage to trip on the concrete again and fall face first. Sandra is terrified because she can’t see me and thinks she’s run over me. If you know Sandra, that in itself it funny. I popped my face and was sure I knocked out my teeth. Of course there were men having lunch who were watching the whole thing. One young man came out of the restaurant to help me get up. It was so dang embarrassing…. but after Sandra calmed down and I realized my front teeth were intact was had a great laugh

There are many things to learn from my picadillos. Growing up there was a wonderful older lady in. my church named Ella Dotson. She often quoted Proverbs 16:18 which says

Pride goeth before destruction, And a haughty spirit before a fall….

Boy, am I in trouble.

In the midst of our current world situation I thought today might be a good day to laugh…. and if it’s at my expense I’m ok with it. Enjoy……and remember that everytime I go to the doctor in Houston they ask if I’ve fallen in the past 2 weeks.

And I hesitate before answering.

Not this time

Do you ever think about what truly gives you comfort and Joy? At this time of year we sing about the birth of Jesus bringing us tidings of great joy……we can all agree on that. But what is giving you comfort and joy right now? This minute?

Comfort….. I have a few memories of true comfort….. past and present.

My sisters and brother were married and out of the house by the time I was in the 5th grade, so I was pretty much (according to some) a spoiled only child at that point, ha. 

I have this wonderful memory of feeling comfort… it was winter, cold outside. We came home from school (I rode with mother to and from school) and after her coffee and the beginnings of supper, mother sat down on the couch to crochet and watch The Waltons. I would lie on the couch and mother would cover me with the afghan she was creating. It was warm, I always took a nap, and all was right with the world. 

Simple but perfect.

Another specific memory I have is a college one……my sweet friend Kenda lived 30 minutes from the William Woods campus and on Sunday afternoons we would wear our pajamas (we all had these ridiculous fleece onesies) and go to Kenda’s parents house. We would lie in the floor in front of the fire and do homework while her mother cooked a meal for us. We were goofy college girls running on empty all the time so this pause was needed and so very comforting.

I think about comforting clothes too, ha

After my retirement I found myself at a loss for appropriate attire. I had “work” outfits and “church” outfits and not a lot else. But hey, this has been an easy fix. stretchy black pants and sweatshirts to the rescue. And as a friend said “I have daytime pajamas and night time pajamas. Comfort comfort comfort. I haven’t made the Walmart facebook “look at this” pics yet but I’ve come mighty close,ha.

Mother would never have been seen in what I wear. But she did want comfortable shoes. She had work shoes, playground shoes and slippers for after work. God only knows how bad her feet hurt. Mine hurt just thinking about it, ha.

Comfort. Comfortable. Being kind to yourself. A cup of coffee. The good kind and with cream for pete’s sake. That and comfortable shoes like mama.

Then there’s joy. Where does yours come from? 

For me it’s the obvious (just like yours) it’s family. Seeing your grown children make good life decisions. Jobs, spouses…..and those precious grandchildren who just make your old heart burst with joy.

But I look for joy in other places too. And I always find it, acknowledge it, roll around in it even. 

I wake up every morning and find joy in my flowers. A throw back to my grandmother Rosie I guess. Currently it’s the orchid that’s blooming and the Christmas cactus…. joy, joy.

It’s laughing with friends. It’s a good ole hug from somebody you love. Or somebody who just needs it. It’s a great candle, a clean house (housekeeper not me) and gifting somebody who doesn’t expect it.

It’s my Christmas tree with the old fashioned lights that Jack says will burn our house down…sitting in the dark and finding joy in its beauty. It’s singing around a piano during a Christmas party. Appreciating a great sermon or a great friend. It’s a hip that finally works and doesn’t hurt. It’s the little things and the big things….

It’s a perfect Miller’s Mud coffee mug…. JOY!

But we all know the truth….Our real comfort and joy comes through our Savior. Our comfort comes in knowing Christ. Our joy comes in believing our sins are forgiven and our eternity is secure in Him.

I believe HE wants us to experience comfort and joy every day. Every single day. Look for your comfort and joy my friends.  

It’s there. Find it.

Luke 2:10-14 KJV

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, good will toward men.

I’ve written before about how much I love Thanksgiving….and how many memories I have. I’ll bet you do too.

• my earliest memories were centered around a feast…. The men deer hunting..finishing lunch with coffee and the women around the piano.. Ruth Caldwell singing “There’s no place like home for the Holidays”

• I distinctly remember coming home from William Woods… exhausted.. and waking up in the cold upstairs bedroom snuggled under the cover, smelling coffee and the beginning of lunch…and hearing Aunt Lucille’s laughter. Mother was no doubt cooking 10 different dishes and Aunt Lucille was making 1 tiny gourmet artichoke dish. But we didn’t care because she was Aunt Lucille.

•Of course we all remember the time I left Fulton after student teaching in Mexico Mo. on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, hitting snow in Rolla. Stopping at a pay phone to ask Daddy what to do… “keep on driving you’re heading south” was his response. A few miles later and the mustang and I were in the ditch. Waiting for my brothers in law to rescue me at the El Rancho truck stop was quite the experience.

We made it home by 2:00 but not until the car buried up in the snow in front of the Methodist church and Jack Haney abandoned ship and hopped in the truck.

• I remember the year Mother died and I tried so hard to recreate everything. The turkey was ok … but it wasn’t right to be in her kitchen without her. Let’s just say that at 25 I was ill equipped, to say the least. JoKay took the reins the following year… and all was well.

•Then we lost Mike. Our hearts were broken.. but Paul and Bjorn carried on and we loved them for it.

•Of course the tragedy of losing JoKay so unexpectedly on Thanksgiving was more than I could handle. She had the turkey in the fridge ready to go…. I ran home to Jonesboro and left Becky to deal… went a little crazy and made Jack and the boys deliver St. Bernard’s meals on Thanksgiving because I just couldn’t celebrate.

•The torch was passed to Becky after we lost JoKay and she and Dawn handled it beautifully. We added nephews and my DIL’s and once again we circled up and gave thanks. Even when Becky was ill she was determined we stay together. God love her. She knew she was dying but insisted we hold hands and say what we were thankful for before someone said grace.

And now… it’s different. Different locations, extended families…. But we’ll still give thanks. As they say…we were “raised right”. We appreciate all we’ve been given, our love for each other and our faith. God is good….life is good. It may be different but that’s ok. The love’s the Same….. and there are new little people to entertain. And wrangle. I will not let my melancholy-ness slide into depression. I have too much to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving friends.

Be kind to each other.

The Beginning

26 years ago I was attempting cancer survivorship. I had been diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997 and received chemo, surgery, more chemo then in the spring of 1998 stem cell transplant followed by 30 radiation treatments.

Crazy it was that long ago….

During subsequent years I drifted between being certain the cancer was recurring and celebrating that it was gone. ….. it seemed that every bump, every ache and every pain was the beginning of the end. If you’re a cancer survivor you know. As the kids say IYKYK.

A few years into my survivorship and still I was consumed with anxiety with every 3 month trip to Houston……

During one of those visits I complained to my oncologist (sweet, quirky Dr. Murray who is now retired) that my hip was hurting and I was sure the cancer had spread. Finally, after listening to me obsess, he did x rays (as if the PET and MRI weren’t good enough for me) proving to me that it was osteoarthritis. What relief. What was a little arthritis right?

As the years passed we settled into normal existence at the Callahan Hacienda. I worked, Jack worked, the boys grew and I began hitting the ibuprofen for my hip pain. Just a couple here and there would do the trick. Standing all day teaching didn’t help and neither did the bus trips, but it didn’t interfere that much…. well, until it did.

About 10 years ago it started getting worse. After a long work day or a competition day, I could barely walk. I started going up stairs always using my left leg first, never putting too much pressure on my right. Whether it was the Orpheum or Astate basketball/football, the stair climbing and walking was miserable.

One night at dinner A dear friend and former Astate AD told me (after seeing me walk) that it was surely a sciatic nerve issue. Sounded right to me…. and that summer I saw a physical therapist who agreed and we set up 3 appointments a week. I only communicated with, and saw, the therapist once. Then I was turned over to an assistant. The day the assistant turned me over to the college intern was the day I called it off. The exercises and tens unit hadn’t helped one bit and had put a dent in the old Blue Cross insurance.

Another year or two of getting through the pain followed. I limped through my sons’ weddings and almost crashed during a choir trip to the Capitol at Christmas, having barely made it up to the rotunda (thank you Mallery Mitchell) and consequently making myself at home in the Dillard’s furniture department as my choir ate lunch and shopped at the mall.

It was getting really bad….

Then, wouldn’t you know, the cancer bug decided to bite me again, this time in what was left of my brain and in my non-smoking lung. Go figure, right? I have all the luck.

No time to worry about a stinkin’ hip now. Gotta focus on living.

The Freakin’ big C caused me to retire a couple of years before I was really ready then Covid hit and sent the entire world into hibernation. Yes, my hip hurt, but I was at home planning my funeral music so it really wasn’t a big deal.

Then I lived.

And it was finally time to revisit the hip. Friends assured me Chiropractic care was the answer (don’t be offended if it worked for you, ok?). So I jumped in, signed the contract and paid thousands, yes thousands, of dollars for this miraculous cure. Again with the tens thing and the medieval stretch machine.

Didn’t work. AT ALL.

I was, and am, celebrating every cancer free day. But the old hip is finished. Bone on bone they tell me. I finally wrapped my head around the need for surgery and that it was ok to have it cancer or no. My sweet young new oncologist in Houston approved and thought it was exactly what was needed. However…..

Remember when I mentioned retirement and COVID? Well, like most of America, I managed to cook and eat my way into ….well into a mess……And it was getting more and more difficult to do anything!

Case in fact…..This summer I gathered up enough nerve to attend two beautiful weddings, both of which required a bottle of hydrocodone pain pills just to walk. If you had seen me trying to navigate the lovely outdoor venue of one, or the three story vrbo of the other, you would understand. And this past week I had to bear crawl up the stands to watch my son coach (my favorite thing in the world to do).….. I don’t even go to my beloved church (also known as Our Lady of the many steps)…. and I barely manage to park at the door of the hair/nail salon and walk the few steps it takes for Cathy and Nita to keep me going. Jack has to drop me at the front door anywhere we go. I’m officially OVER IT and I know Jack and my family and friends are as well!!!

HIP HIP HOORAY. We hope.

It’s TIME FOR GRANDMA TO GET A NEW HIP, DANG IT ALL.

The good orthopedic doc I’m seeing in Little Rock wants to do anterior surgery which is less invasive BUT I have to lose major weight. So here we are. I’ve lost 50 lbs…….without Ozempic, ha…..but the stinker wants more so I’m trying to comply. My surgery is finally scheduled for October 16 and my fingers are crossed.

I have no way of knowing if my cancer will return. I’m still receiving the immunotherapy drug Keytruda and am cautiously optimistic. I’m also cautiously optimistic that I won’t be hit by a truck but who knows, right? Anything could happen to any of us…. and those of us 64 almost 65 year old people understand this better than most, ha.

So…. to all of you hipsters out there. I FEEL YOUR PAIN and I’m ready to rejoin the ambulatory crowd.

So HIP, HIP Hooray….for real

Some of you are old enough to remember this catchy little tune which was the theme song of the cartoon. I especially remember Chase loving this show… It was an awesome little show that was very educational….. in that the geographical facts were presented clearly. I don’t think MTG watched since she recently called Africa a country, but that’s a story for a braver day, ha

What I’m thinking about this summer afternoon is how my facebook feed has morphed into a travel brochure. It seems my friends are traveling more than ever this summer. Forget the beach and Disney World, just today I saw gorgeous pics from Portugal, Greece and Italy.

Ya’ll, what the heck! I can’t convince Jack to cross the bridge to Memphis.

My parents took one REAL vacation in their entire lives and it was a doozy. In 1962 the World’s Fair was in Seattle. For some crazy reason my mother was bound and determined that we go. Of course I was 3 that summer so I remember nothing about the trip….guess it could be a family legend, ha

Anyway, as the story goes….. 3 families from MYRTLE decided to drive across country with all of their children (4 Wilkersons). Mother also decided she needed to buy a new car for the trip. WHAT THE HECK? She purchased (and I’m sure paid cash) for a new Chevrolet Bel Aire. It was a beauty. Mud brown and no air-conditioning. I think JoKay and Becky got to ride with friends and Mike and I were in the back seat of said vehicle. He was in Junior High and I’m positive he loved riding along with his annoying 3 year old little sister.

I’m told that there were many roadside picnics along the way, especially one instance by a river (perhaps the Colorado but I’m not sure) where I managed to escape whichever teenager was supposed to be babysitting me. After several frantic moments my mother located me up the river throwing rocks into the rushing water. Just so ya know I haven’t thrown any rocks lately (but election season is coming.)

Another trip legend was the visit to the Great Salt Lake where everyone swam in the water but I cried because it stung my mosquito bitten legs. Then there was the Space Needle and finally the actual Fair and I have no recollection of any of it.

After that lovely adventure my parents apparently gave up the traveling bug and our vacations consisted of visiting relatives in Tulsa, which was fine with me because my Aunt Lucille (red hair, red nails and large bosoms) lived there and I adored her. I remember those vacations very well.

Jack’s parents were much more adventurous. A trip or two to Florida and short trips to the Howard Johnson’s holidome in Springfield. I even got to go on one of their excursions before we were married.

Gotta love a hot tub with the inlaws.

Jack and I as newlyweds traveled to Tulsa also…. visiting both family and high school friends. Fun times for sure. The biggest highlight though…..was Jack and Chad’s determination to travel to Daytona to the Aku Tiki Inn….. supposedly because they had gone on their senior trip there and thought it was a great idea. My mother had died that February and I needed some happy for sure. I was doing graduate work that summer and skipped an entire week of educational statistics to go. My professor wasn’t thrilled but I told him I didn’t have to get an “A”, I just needed a vacation…. (and we wonder where Carter gets it) so I went on the trip, managed to get a “B” and just to be clear….I was never asked in an interview why, because nobody cared. We had a fabulous time and still tell stories about it today.

Once Jack and I had kiddos we made great trips to the beach, first with James and Ruth McCauley and eventually the Thayer Bobcat posse. I squeezed a few San Antonio trips out of Jack and was lucky enough to travel with my job, get my city fix, and Jack didn’t have to go, ha

The famous quote from Jack’s precious Uncle Richard was “son, it’s $500 to leave the city limits)….. which if you think about it is true,ha

Our family Joke was that Travis and Reba took the boys to Six Flags every summer and we just told them it was Disney World, ha. Cruel, I know.

But today? Travel is expected. The beach is more crowded than ever and Disney World is a requirement for every young family.

I am indeed fortunate to travel vicariously through the pics my friends posts! Truth be known, my ability to travel is limited by my dang hip and now knees, so I stay pretty close to home. At least that’s my excuse.

As I thought about travel this afternoon I wondered why I’m so content to be home…..especially after COVID kept us locked down for so long.

Here’s the answer kids.

I have, during the last 25 years, made over 200 trips to Houston to MD Anderson. Both flying and driving, with and without Jack. One of those trips lasted 3 months. The others have been at three or six month intervals…it’s been a lot. And we’re still going.

And each time we pull back in our driveway I first thank God for safe travel and then I breathe a sigh of relief to be home.

You see home is our sanctuary. We built our home 33 years ago and it’s filled with memories galore and lots and lots of love

We’ve raised our boys here and now our grands. I go overboard about flowers and indoor upkeep and Jack is wonderful to plant anything, anywhere. Our neighbors tease him about the upkeep of the lawn… it’s his therapy and it’s lovely. We revel in holidays and dinners with friends and just being home….coffee or wine in hand.

So…. friends (and family)….keep traveling! Keep sending and posting those lovely pics and stories of your adventures! I love them! I’ll be here on the patio in my wicker rocker, watching the birds, commenting on my flowers, and traveling along with you!

When I was a little girl my mother took me to the doctor. Our family doctor was CW Cooper. Ya’ll remember him right? Do you remember leaving and him saying “2 dollars please”…. then “4 dollars please”….. Lord have mercy. There’s a blog all by itself, right? Anyway, during one of my many episodes of tonsillitis (nobody ever called it strep) I was in Dr. Cooper’s office getting my tonsils “painted” …… what was that red stuff anyway? On this visit sweet, southern Dr. Cooper made this statement to my mother. “don’t let this girl get fat, she’s too pretty”…

Ya’ll, I was a little girl but those words stung.

It would be easy to blame mother and my Smith family ….Irene, God love her, was always chasing the next diet. I remember her having those little chocolate candies calls Ayds with her coffee in the afternoon after school. They were suppose to curb your appetite but I think they just tasted good with coffee.

Descending from those short and wide people is truth. We are short and for the most part wide, ha… but blaming anyone for my love of cooking, great food, entertaining is not fair…….unfortunately it’s my fault.

Ya’ll I’m just hangry!

Looking at pictures from those days I think I looked pretty dang good but I fought every pound.

When I was in 7th grade I bought a book by this fella Dr. Akins. I didn’t know a carb from a hole in the ground but I followed the book’s instructions, had mother buy those Keto sticks and proceeded to lose weight and get sick.

Then I stopped.

In high school I was busy and active and didn’t worry that much about my weight. As long as I could fit in my cheerleader uniform I was ok, ha.

College rolled around and weight control was easy because we were too busy to worry about eating. A food plan was included in our tuition and the dining hall was a walk across campus. I enjoyed sleep more than going to breakfast and General Hospital more than lunch so I was on the one meal a day plan. And of course during those cold Missouri nights and snow days we skipped dinner and opted for popcorn in the sorority house. Efficient albeit unhealthy…

After graduation I started teaching in Van Buren Missouri. I didn’t cook, didn’t want to! Again no breakfast or lunch. I had several single friends who were teachers and we met for dinner every night in the local restaurant. When I gained a few pounds I started this liquid diet a co-worker was selling. Magic Bullet…ummm no. After losing weight with the “yummy” drink it started to make me gag. I couldn’t even tolerate the smell! But I did lose weight, ha. Gagging will do that.

During this time I started dating Jack and decided to move back home and teach at Couch, my alma mater. Dieting was easy then. I just didn’t eat. No breakfast and no lunch. I was the cheerleading sponsor so I went to bb games 4 nights a week, during which a drank a coke and had a candy bar for dinner. How’s that for healthy? But hey, I had a size 6 wedding dress and didn’t embarrass myself in a swimsuit on my honeymoon, ha.

Moving to Jonesboro was exciting. Living in a new place, meeting new people, cooking for a husband…a bakery at the end of the street…. get my drift? So now I thought I’d do Weight Watchers. I know it’s better now but back then it was like an AA meeting where you weighed in and had to talk about your failures like eating your kid’s Halloween candy and chocolate Easter bunnies. I followed the plan, ate liver once a week (can you believe that) and cooked fish for dinner (poor Jack)…..Then woo hoo I got pregnant with Chase. It was like I had permission to eat anything I wanted. This freedom left me with a 50 lb weight gain and a beautiful 5 lb baby. How fair is that?

So back on the WW train…..

Then another precious little baby and lots of not precious weight gain. But wait!! A new miracle drug called Phen Fen was the diet of the day! It worked beautifully! Of course it was an amphetamine so there ya go. But I lost so much weight! It was fabulous until I was tested and had heart damage.

Dang it.

I remember clearly that in 1997, while wearing my cute red 2 piece Land’s End swimsuit, I received a call from the doc that I had breast cancer. Ain’t that a kick in the pants/swimsuit.

After that battle I didn’t really care about my weight, I just wanted to live. And praise the Lord I did.

Of course I gained again and I couldn’t let it go……… so I did a hospital plan with frozen meals and shakes. Great plan for about 3 weeks. Once again I started to gag with every bite and drink. My body was rebelling and apparently wanted ice cream.

After a skin cancer on my back (I blame the sunbed), and a hysterectomy …. I again quit worrying about weight.

Years of normality ensued then boom another breast cancer. More lovely drugs that cause weight gain……………but hey, I was alive and my boys were married to beautiful girls so no real worries about my weight.

Everything was good until 2019 when the ole cancer devil bit me again. This time it was lung cancer and it scared the heck out of me, still does.

And suddenly Covid hit on top of the lung cancer…..fear fear fear

I don’t know about you but I survived by cooking and eating everything in sight. I was pretty sure that my days were indeed limited…………. so let me tell you that I did not worry one bit about my weight. Bring on the snickers. “frankly, my dear I don’t/didn’t give a damn”

But…. then my hip gives up the ghost. I had been diagnosed with osteoarthritis in my hip years ago and the pain was always manageable with over the counter drugs. But all the standing and teaching had taken its toll. The last year I taught I could barely get on and off the bus. Sweet Mallorie Mitchell had to help me climb the steps to the Capitol when my kiddos sang and I joked that I only made it to the Dillard’s home store and a comfy chair when we took the choir to the mall. I enjoyed the furniture for the rest of the field trip.

Sad but funny…

So here we are. 3.5 years of steroids and chemo and covid later and I need a hip replacement. I need it bad. Bone on bone bad……..Just what every 64 year old cancer patient needs, right? The hits just keep on coming.

I decided to go to a highly recommended orthopedic surgeon in Little Rock…..who, after seeing me, says, “hold up” you’re too heavy for me to do the less invasive surgery deemed best. The half my age, tanned, bleached teeth, body builder surgeon smiled as he said it shouldn’t be hard to lose the weight. Probably in a month or two.

Had I been able to lift my leg I might have dropped kicked his beautiful self.

So, as we speak, I’m doing intermittent fasting trying to get the *&^%$ weight off. I’m doing it slowly and trying to be healthy about it, but honestly the coke and snickers plan doesn’t sound so bad at this point.

I’m hangry.

“don’t let that pretty girl get fat”……..hangry indeed.