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.

A warm blanket

Did you have a good Thanksgiving? Your pics sure seemed like it, ha. I’m with you 100%! We had the traditional dinner with all the trimmings, our home was full of precious little grands running all over the place and all went well. I tried to squash my “Suzanne obsession” with the past, at least for a few hours…ha, and embrace the present.

And then….

All HELL broke loose.

The stomach virus invaded our house like Sherman marching through Georgia. I was yelling at Jack for help and he was obsessively washing every towel and throw as fast as he could. We crawled around, moaned, whined and I finally managed to go upstairs to bed….I couldn’t even undress. I went to bed in my clothes with a trash can close by. (I have new carpet upstairs and I was pretty sure I’d die if anything gross happened)….

Fast forward to Sunday morning. We were scheduled to leave for Houston and my MD Anderson check up at 8:00.

Didn’t happen. Couldn’t get out of bed.

I told Jack I couldn’t make it. He disagreed and told me to sleep a little more and we’d go later.

At 11:00 I finally came to, managed to get in the shower, pack and leave.

What were we thinking? Somewhere around Little Rock I asked Jack if there was something wrong with the explorer because I felt like we were on the tilt a whirl.

it was truly the worst 9 hour trip of my life. I wouldn’t let Jack even mention food. I just couldn’t. Thank God we finally got off the tilt a whirl around 7:00 and went to our room at the Rotary House.

What a shock (not really) that in my stupor I had managed to forget pajamas, most of my underwear and my hairbrush.

I told him I was sick.

Let me just tell you that Monday morning I was a FRIGHT. Rotary House hotel has these nifty shampoo/conditioner/body wash containers attached to the shower wall and of course I used the conditioner not the shampoo so my hair (no brush) was just insane. I didn’t care. I had just survived the stomach flu and I didn’t know these Houston people anyway.

So here I go. Flat, straight hair, no makeup ……to the PET Scan.

Have you had a PET scan? I have had about a 100 it seems. I warned the nurse that I was a tough stick and that she might want to use my port for the IV. No problem, right?


She couldn’t (after a couple of tries) get blood return from the port…kind of a big deal and resorted to a lovely IV in my hand which was more that a little hurtful, telling me I’d have to go to infusion therapy after the PET scan to investigate the issue.

Did I mention that the stomach flu had racked body and thanks to 9 hours on the tilt a whirl, my nerves were SHOT? I was about an inch from a good ole meltdown when she said..

“Can I get you a warm blanket?”…….

I’m pretty sure the sky opened, birds started to sing and for an instant, all was well. It didn’t matter if I was in the #1 Cancer center in America or being triaged on the battlefield. That warm blanket was exactly what I needed.

It was comforting.

I was able to calm down and chill out while I waited for the scan.

And you know me…..I had to take a minute .

We have had so much trauma in Jonesboro of late……in our personal lives we have lost precious friends who were in the prime of their lives. We have no answers, We can’t explain it, we don’t know what to do or how to help. We’re left with our questions, our anger and our sadness. So what to do?

Does it seem ridiculous to apply the warm blanket theory? We can’t change the circumstances…we can’t make the situations go away…. but can we just embrace one another with that “warm blanket” feeling that says, I’m here. I’ve gotcha covered.

And for that time…..whether it’s minute or an hour…. can we provide comfort? Even if it’s just a minute to feel the warmth of a touch, a hug…the sincerity of concern and love.

To my dear friends who have suffered loss during these past months… when I see you I may not know what to say, but I’ll embrace you with love. And I’ll hope you’ll feel comfort…

like a warm blanket.

It’s just a number….

Well, it happened. I’m 64…..I just can’t believe it. I’m honestly having a hard time believing it. I was ALWAYS the baby of the family. I was the youngest! I loved that title. Daddy loved to introduce JoKay and I by saying we were Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end….. ha…. I loved being the youngest in my adult Sunday school class and the youngest on staff at school.

Well friends, those days are GONE.

But…as Randy Travis would sing ………On the other hand…..

On the other hand there are significant advantages to age. I’m not quite certain they are particularly “fair and balanced”…. for example, It seems everybody stays in a wad about Nancy Pelosi being in her 80’s but no one mentions Mitch McConnell’s age…. hmmm….

Consider Hollywood and how older actresses are limited in roles while those distinguished looking men are not. It’s changing a bit…. but not much,

And then there are those men who have gray hair and are deemed “sophisticated” while we women are told it “ages” you. If you do buck the trend and go gray you’re called brave…ha… trivial, I know.

Also…there’s the wisdom thing. There was a time when older (gosh I hate that word) folks were treasured for their life knowledge and not laughed at because they can’t get HULU or NETFLIX to work on the TV. Bah Humbug.

Oh let’s be positive Suzanne

Every year is a blessing. Another day to enjoy God’s creation, and for me, plenty of time to do it. When the weather cooperates I sit outside on the patio in my new rocker Jack bought me for my birthday and I contemplate the flowers, the sky, the birds and the fat squirrels who love to dig in said flowers…. It reminds me of my Grandma Smith who would rise before Dawn, meet Buster in the garden and wait for the “varmints” to come so they could shoot’m….. If this reminds you of the Clampetts you would be correct.

And…….let me say that for almost 40 years I said God didn’t mean for me to go to work in the dark or to stay at work until dark.

And now I don’t have to

Heck, I’ll even get up and go BACK to bed. How’s that for an age advantage?

And my grandchildren? Friend… they are the light of my life. Everything they do or say makes my heart skip a beat.

These smart YOUNG teachers video their lessons and I’m just overwhelmed at how precious they are! I want to secretly pull up a chair in the corner of their classrooms and just watch. They are my heart. All four of them. Kathryn, Cooper, Camryn and John Wilson… Susu loves you so.

Of course there are the freedoms we “older” folks enjoy too.

Let me list a few for you…

  1. I don’t particularly care if my furniture color scheme is outdated. If I want a red chair I’ll buy it. Facebook needs to QUIT telling me about the “mistakes” older people make with their decorating. You know what? I’ll decorate any way I want to and be happy doing it. So there.
  2. I’m not concerned about what hairstyle “ages” me. You are the age you are even if you have a bucket on your head.
  3. I may wear black pants that are older than my grandchildren….
  4. I’m not apologetic about my beliefs. Take me or leave me. I believe what I believe. I don’t really care. I’ll be nice about it and I’ll love you but I won’t compromise just to make you more comfortable.
  5. The same goes for my faith. I know what I believe. I know what matters and what is just for looks. I’m pretty sure God is hoping we are authentic about our faith. We don’t have to (as Irene would say) put on a show.
  6. And then there is appreciation and my desire to let people know I love them. It’s important, now more than ever, to make people feel loved and and appreciated.

This past weekend Jack and I attended the funeral of Carlene Williams. Carlene was the mother of Mark Williams, one of Jack’s life long friends. Jack’s high school friends are a special group of men who, although miles apart, are still best friends. They have been there for each other through thick and thin. They have been best men, groomsmen…they have celebrated graduations, weddings, births and mourned deaths. AGE has made me appreciate all of them (and their wives) more than ever. Only AGE and time can do that. It’s a blessing for sure.

As I sat through Carline’s service I thought about her life and mine. She was so nice and so kind to me, even before I met Mark or Jack. Her circle was wide and her positive influence ran deep in the lives of thousands of people……. in the schools where she taught, the town where she lived and the church where she worshipped. Her years were so full of goodness. She left this world a better place. Her legacy lives on and won’t be forgotten.

Age is a blessing. A God given opportunity for us to make a difference in the lives of not only our families but to everyone we come in contact with while we’re here

I think about how our faith is shared and how happy we are that Carelene is with her family in heaven………..and yes that is the ultimate desire for us all……But let me add that GOODNESS for GOODNESS sake is important too. AGE allows us time to share goodness, empathy and kindness more than ever. We now have the time to think, to act and to donate to causes we care about, and the wisdom (we hope) to do it!

I’m sure we’d like to be asked our opinions a little more…..but nothing’s perfect, right?

So here’s to AGE.

To being 64.

To laughing at mistakes, to empathizing with friends who have illnesses or loss, to sympathizing with those who need help.

To praising God and loving people every day, even if you’re 64

It’s just a number

And Just like that…

This summer is the three year anniversary of my lung/brain cancer diagnosis.


I’m no stranger to cancer. Lord, how I wish I was.

I’ll bet you do too.

Let’s see how many folks have Jack and I lost in our immediate family…..

  • Mother
  • Jack’s grandmother
  • Jack’s grandfather
  • My Uncle
  • My Aunt
  • My sister

And let me say that MANY precious friends could be added to this list, and some are in the midst of the fight right now, God love’m.

Suffice to say I understand what it means when the doctor says “it’s stage 4”.…..

I’ve told my story ad nauseum so I won’t bore you with the details again. Today is what matters and today……well, today my cancer is gone. For several months my PET scans and MRI tests have shown no evidence of the cancer.

Wowza right?

A miracle actually. In my estimation it’s a miracle of modern medicine and God given intelligence to those creating and inventing and discovering new treatments every day.

Science baffles me. I hated biology and I don’t remember if I even had chemistry. In college I had to take biology so I took it during the summer at Mammoth Spring through Ozarka? I made an A so that might tell you something about the rigor, ha. Needless to say, science isn’t my bag. AT ALL. I think that’s why I cringe when folks (with similar scientific knowledge as mine) are so quick to;

  • Question science and discovery’
  • Fall for treatments on facebook
  • Believe in those profiting from illness

What has been my good fortune is incredibly complicated, intricate and specialized. It would be easy to declare it all a miracle.

And I do, I really do.

I just happen to believe the miracle came in the form of amazing humans and institutions who have discovered yet another way to fight this horrible disease.

A friend recently shared that she didn’t understand what was going on with me and my health…. so here’s the deal kids.

I’ve had 48 infusions of the immunotherapy drug Keytruda. Keytruda is a drug that targeted my specific lung tumors (there were 3) and my body responded very well. Amazingly well. Along with the immunotherapy I have had 48 infusions of Alimta which is a standard chemotherapy. There are definite side effects. Though none nearly as debilitating as standard chemo and for now they are manageable, albeit irritating.

This combination has resolved my lung tumors. My oncologist in Houston sees many lung cancer patients. He shares that I am one of the lucky ones. Many of his patients have not responded as well. He has been incredibly kind, knowledgeable and looks just like Pete Buttigieg. The medical folks in Houston AND in Jonesboro have been wonderful.

Thanks to the Gamma Knife procedure I had three years ago on my brain, my three lesions there are gone also. We don’t have any clue if or when they might return…but the one treatment was all I had on my brain. Docs aren’t sure if the immunotherapy reached the brain or not. Remember, it’s been three years…so there’s every reason to assume they are gone for good.

Since the immunotherapy is so new, there just aren’t enough statistics to be completely comfortable (at least for me) stopping treatment, so for now I will continue the 3 week regimen, test every 4 months in Houston and continue on…….I’ve set a 5 year goal and if I’m cancer free at that point I’ll consider it over.

So that’s my story.

Just to make things more interesting I am in need of a hip replacement. Yuck. Aren’t those for old people? Apparently I’m one of those now, ha. My hip has been a constant pain for years and years and has nothing to do with the cancer. Folks I have taught with can testify that I was struggling with my hip while teaching. Years of standing and teaching, lovely bus trips and such, have done the damage. I hope to now concentrate on moving on to surgery and being more mobile and comfortable.

And again….. I can’t quit writing without telling you the blessings I have received during these past three years. I know it sounds “holier than thou” but honestly, when I was diagnosed and thought time was short, one of things I prayed for most was for God to show me, teach me….make me a better person through the experience. And kids….. I have learned so much.

Can I list just a few?

  • An overwhelming appreciation of friendships. Friends who were by my side (still are) and listened to me, prayed for me and ministered to my every need.
  • An extreme love and prioritization of my family. A realization that every minute with them is a gift……….. along with the knowledge that next to salvation God’s greatest gift to me is a husband who loves me through it all….in sickness and in health.
  • An acceptance of age and being human…..and yes, death.
  • A greater examination of what I believe and why.
  • A love for my church family and how it has grounded my faith for years… and continues to do so.
  • An unfortunate impatience with those who don’t seem to have a moral code of any kind and those with misplaced priorities.
  • A love of things God given…..nature, music, art and HUMOR.

And finally….. a desire to do my best to follow this commandment. The greatest commandment.

Matthew 22:36-40 King James Version

36 Master, which is the great commandment in the law?

37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

38 This is the first and great commandment.

39 And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

40 On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

And just like that……life carries on.

Teach your children well

You, who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so, become yourself
Because the past is just a goodbye

… Teach your children well
Their father’s hell did slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they pick’s the one you’ll know by

… Don’t you ever ask them, “Why?”
If they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you

… And you (Can you hear?) of tender years (And do you care?)
know the fears (And can you see?)
That your elders grew by (We must be free)
And so, please help (To teach your children)
Them with your youth (What you believe in)
They seek the truth (Make a world)
Before they can die (That we can live in)

… And teach your parents well
Their children’s hell will slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they pick’s the one you’ll know by

… Don’t you ever ask them, “Why?

If they told you, you will cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you

Sometimes I think I might have been better suited living in another era…. I’m a sucker for CSNY, Joni Mitchell….well, you get my drift. I love lyrics and I especially love those above.


Here in Arkansas (as well as other states) teachers are underpaid. Grossly underpaid. A sweet young enthusiastic friend will begin her career making in the low 30s and those career retirees will leave the professional in the low 50’s….. of course there are exceptions for a few districts, but not many.

There are those who will remind us that teachers don’t enter the professional for the money.

No kidding.

Funny thing. To teach you need a college degree and in many cases that takes 4+ years and if there’s an advanced degree, 5 or more. Guess what? That degree will cost them. There’s no free ride for those kind hearted professionals.

Their families need shoes too.

The past few years have been horrendous for educators. They have battled COVID rules out the WAZOO, to put it mildly. Not only have they dealt with online instruction …they have sanitized, sanitized and sanitized hands, chairs, rooms….insanity… Not to mention trying to assess student growth…. when parents weren’t always available to support (no fault of their own) or in some cases where children didn’t even have access to the internet….and the list goes on.

And all the nonsense about teachers having the summers off? Give me a break. Professional Development occurs throughout the summer….more times than not you’ll drive past a school and see the cars of teachers preparing rooms, having meetings and trying their best to be ready for the next year.

All of my retired teacher cheerleading…and I will KEEP doing it… is in reaction to our Governor and Legislators deciding that our SURPLUS of monies in Arkansas would be better served by a tax cut (and we know for who) instead of a much needed raise for our educators.


These legislators don’t think a raise is necessary but they are very interested in;

  • Removing/banning books (many classics)
  • Making certain sex education is limited (even though Arkansas is second only to Mississippi in teen births)
  • Worrying about CRT when most of us don’t even know what it is
  • Considering arming teachers (really… think about your elementary teachers then imagine them carrying a gun)


After watching the horrible mass shootings this summer…..and since I have time on my hands, I have come to the following conclusions…


Teachers know their students. Most middle school, junior high and high school teachers could easily list those they think are capable of one day being a shooter.


I know. But friends, it’s true. Every day these teachers see students whose anger is out of control. Abused at home, neglected at home, bullied at school for their looks, not having money, having the wrong clothes….and yes, being gay or trans. It’s a tough world out there people…. if you don’t believe me volunteer a few hours or heaven forbid, substitute.


So why does it matter? It matters because more attention needs to be paid to those (for lack of a better term) disenfranchised students. Teachers, counselors, social workers and yes, law enforcement need to be more aware that shedding light on those with these problems might stop another shooting.

Oops. Did I cross the line?

You know back when I taught, and when I passed out a particularly difficult piece of music, I would often joke “How do you eat an Elephant?”…….answer “one bite at a time”… and that goofy phrase applies here.

None of us have 100% of the answers, but when we all contribute we can make a difference.

I spent 38 years teaching choral music. One thing I’m sure of… if there’s a way to get a child involved in an extracurricular activity we should do it. A SENSE OF BELONGING, be it choir, band, drama, athletics….. I swear to you it could make a difference.

I know I starting this little blog cheerleading for a teacher raise….and got sidetracked, but it all goes together!

TEACHERS are our first line of defense.

  • Devoted elementary teachers who love their students like their own. Who nurture them, introduce them to a world outside their circumstances…not to mention spending their own money to help clothe them and feed them.
  • Middle School and Junior High teachers who reach them in classes, recruit them in activities where they are ACCEPTED and loved for who they are. Just ask a band, drama or choir student and they’ll tell you. Whether it’s athletics or art… it may be the closest thing to a loving family some ever know.
  • And finally, High School teachers who continue the fight….often being the one person a student can confide in…

Teachers know.

Do I have opinions about GUNS…. well if you know me very well you can answer that question easily.

But it’s not JUST the guns. It’s not JUST the mental health……. It’s all of it rolled into one and if we hope to make a dent in these horrific numbers of shootings, then we need to open the tool box and use whatever we can and quit fighting each other about which is the best way to handle it.

You are probably saying “but what about the adult shooters”…… and I’m not sure anyone but Jesus can stop a white supremacist on a mission to rid the world of blacks, Jews, homosexuals….and the rest of the list. But let me tell you one thing. I don’t need my politicians cozying up to them. And my vote will never go to one who does.

I’ll wind up this crazy saga by telling you about my mom and dad. Both took the Missouri “teachers exam” when they graduated high school. In the 1930s a degree wasn’t necessary and they both started teaching in Missouri- one room rural schools….and challenges existed then too…

I listened as my parents told of students with no shoes, one outfit of clothes and ofen no food. My parents swept the floors, made the fires and helped many survive…. Which truly is what teacher are doing today….


These frontline teachers need more than your pat on the back. More than your support. They need you to listen and believe them.

And they need and deserve to be compensated for being the heroes that they are.

If you live in Arkansas I encourage you to call or email your Legislators and your Governor and let them know how you feel. You can be the difference.

And please vote accordingly.

Stayin’ Alive

I’ve tried to calculate how many Keytruda/Alimta treatments I have had since being diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer in July of 2019. Since I’m too lazy to go through the insurance papers to be exact, I tried to estimate and do the math myself (quit laughing). Anyhoo…. it seems to me to be around 34. If I told you the total $$ amount you wouldn’t believe it and you might say I’m not worth it..ha. I’ve been blessed to have excellent care, experienced 34 blood draws, met angel nurses and watched patients arrive alone or with caregivers.

And also let me say we’ve made 34 left hand turns at NEA Baptist, and we locals know how dangerous that is, don’t we?

Keytruda is, for my body, a miracle drug. I wish so much it was for everyone… but it’s not. The doctor describes it simply as a key for a lock…… and after lots of testing, mine matched. Optimistically speaking, the drug is now being used for melanoma, some bladder cancers, and also being tested for others. Similar immunotherapy drugs are being discovered as we speak. I want so badly for them to work for every cancer patient, and I believe one day they will. For the time being I’m surviving. My side effects are minimal and manageable. I’m definitely the fortunate one…I’m slower, I stay home more….I’ve finally come to grips with retirement and and am in awe of my grands and the joy they give me 24-7…..little stinkers.

I couldn’t help but think of this song when describing my situation…. I also have to apologize to my brother Mike who, when I came home from college with this CD, told me it was crap and that all disco was crap. Oh, brother Mike, how I wish you were HERE!!! We would laugh long and hard about that.

Those of you who have walked the cancer path, either yourself or with a loved one, are well aware of the incredible challenges. Those challenges are often as much mental as physical, aren’t they?

I’ve dealt with every emotion imaginable since my first breast cancer diagnosis in 1997. Before that I watched my precious mother suffer and die from breast cancer.


I was young. Newly married. Living in a bubble of love, the future and all the possibilities of a perfect life when she had a recurrence five years from diagnosis and died. I prayed for her to live. I prayed desperately for her to live. I could not understand why God was allowing such a good Christian person to suffer and die when I selfishly needed her so badly. I was shaken. My faith and my perfect life was shaken. Remember that it was 1985 and there were few medical options.

It was at that point I started to question. And trust me when I say I still don’t have all the answers…but I’m sure a lot closer now than I was then.

Romans 5:3-5

Not only so, but we[a] also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

I. love. this. scripture.

I recently sat at home on a Sunday morning because I felt rotten. My hip was killing me and I just couldn’t find it in me to maneuver getting to Sunday School and Worship. I was channel surfing, waiting to listen to my pastor on facebook , when I landed on a channel with a minister preaching on this scripture… boy did it hit me.

The first part was just thinking about what I’ve learned and how I’ve grown spiritually since all of the stinkin’ cancer stuff decided to visit. Talk about perseverance and character.. how about;

  • learning to prioritize
  • appreciating my family, my friends, my church
  • a realization that living a life of purpose and legacy matters
  • recognizing pretentiousness as well as honesty
  • having hope that this life is just the beginning

But you know what? It was his take on the shame part that hit home the most. We Christians seem to be pretty certain things should go our way…. and when they don’t we shame ourselves and imagine that others shame us because illness, failure, heartache must surely be our fault, the result of our shortcomings.

It’s not.

We are human. Things happen. Illnesses, loss, ………Isn’t the answer to walk through it all….day by day….searching for what we can learn, how we can help others. and yes, to persevere and build character, always having hope.

Beauty all around

It’s no secret that times are hard. So dang many issues to deal with…So many folks at “odds” with friends and neighbors over these issues. Issues that are really important to our country, our families and our churches. A good friend told me she just wanted to stay in her bubble….and I totally get it…….Unfortunately it’s my teacher nature to want to fix things…and of course I can’t. So I spend lots of time on my patio. Jack has planted beautiful flowers for us to enjoy and enjoy we do. Not just flowers but lots and lots of music. Mostly oldies because we are oldies, but we throw in a few newer options occasionally. Our sweet neighbors may or may not agree….especially at 6:30 am.


I often call myself the “cancer whisperer” but that’s ok. I try to talk and encourage others walking the path. Trust me when I tell you there are friends in my life who have done the same for me and have made a huge difference in my outlook and my journey. If I can help one person with my words, a hug or a listening ear or a nod of understanding, it will be God’s gift to me.


There is hope. Always hope. There is prayer for a better day, for healing, or simply for less pain. A gentleman in my Sunday School class commented that it wasn’t about “What would Jesus do” but instead it was “What Jesus did”…..hmm. I didn’t totally agree. I think every day we live we need to follow the example of the one who sacrificed for us.

Shout out to my Methodist friends…this John Wesley quote says it all.

Hope….for life

I know you heard my desperation a couple of years ago when I thought my beloved crepe myrtle was dying. It looked horrible. The black, sticky junk was all over the tree and all over the patio. I was heartbroken. But then we had it treated and we crossed our fingers. We hired an Arborist to come trim.. and low and behold it lived. The blossoms are falling this morning like snowflakes.

It’s alive.

Sometimes life gives us lots of black, sticky, messy stuff we have to treat. And we have hope that either it will be healed now,… or ultimately in the future.

So what are my thoughts today? I’m drinking awesome coffee, just visited with a dear friend while wearing the pjs she bought me for my birthday (TMI)…..I’m thinking about what I’ve learned since 1997….but more specifically since 2019 and the latest cancer diagnosis….

Just a few things

  • To love and cherish my family, sometime obnoxiously so
  • To have empathy not just sympathy
  • To appreciate beauty in everything..the smallest of things
  • To be a friend, a good, good friend
  • To show people I care
  • To forgive more, to blame less
  • To share love and acceptance of all of his children
  • To be thankful in all things….especially medicine and really smart doctors

And finally….. to have hope.

Stayin’ Alive….right?

And so it goes..

Last night I chose to watch a favorite tv drama… “This is Us”…. or as Jack likes to call it, “This is Sad”. Since I am a sorry, pitiful fan I had no faith that the Memphis Grizzlies were going to win the playoff game and had gone upstairs choosing the tv show instead.

Big mistake. Gut wrenching. Sobbed my face off. If you’re a “This is Us” fan you know exactly what I’m talking about

The words and music of the Billy Joel song were so poignant and fit the sentiment of the story line so well that I woke this morning thinking of it all…. and how it relates to my story.

Life is difficult sometimes. I know I’m in good company when I make this statement. I spend an exorbitant amount of time comparing my struggles to those of others and scolding myself for complaining when so many have it so much worse.

But each of us face our own battles. We trust that God listens and hears us….I’m pretty sure it’s not a competition. There are surely strategies to make things seem better… well, most of the time.

For example

Last Friday Jack and I and our sweet friends decided to go to dinner downtown. It was a beautiful night and the restaurant, a relatively new one in town, had been highly recommended by our boys and their wives as a “must”…. great food, interesting and different menu and an awesome atmosphere. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. But… I had been struggling a couple of days with hip pain (my compadre of doctors tell me the hip is shot and I need a new one) but I thought I was ok for the time being…..

And then the chair.

There was just something about it. I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I twisted and turned and tried hard to make the best of it, enjoying the awesome dinner, great conversation, and other friends who dropped by, laughing and having just the greatest time.

And then I tried to stand up.

Trust me when I say “The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be”….. I COULD NOT WALK. The pain in my hip was horrendous and I was paralyzed. Jack, bless his heart, was doing his best to help and our friend Jim was on the other side of me doing the same. I was mortified. So dang embarrassed! I was sure everyone in the restaurant would think I had enjoyed too much Sauvignon Blanc …ha.. We make it out to the street where Jack had parked and of course, I couldn’t get up in the explorer to save my dang life! Traffic is rolling by, as it does in downtown Jonesboro, and suddenly a car pulls up alongside of us. A young lady rolls the window down and asks if I need help. She is proud to say she’s a registered CNA and works at a nursing home. JUST KILL ME NOW. We assured her I was ok and finally Jack was able to maneuver me and my dead leg up and into the car.

It’s Wednesday after the debacle so I can laugh. But let me tell you I wasn’t laughing Friday night.

Long story short. I’ve had hip pain for years and have known the osteoarthritis existed for many of those years. But being the daughter of Irene, I decided I was able to deal with the pain. And I did. Years of bus trips, standing and teaching…… days when I came home and hit the ibuprofen bottle hard, ha.

The best example was when I took the kiddos to sing in Little Rock at the Capitol the last year I taught. In a driving rain my two bus loads of singers run (I walked) up the beautiful walkway into the Capitol and thanks to Mallory Mitchell (drama goddess) I managed to walk up the steps to the rotunda to perform.

When we took the kids to the mall for lunch and Christmas shopping I went to the Dillard’s furniture showroom, found a chair and collapsed. We made it back to Jonesboro in a thunderstorm (through construction in Jacksonville where we almost died) and I was back at the Country Club for the teacher Christmas party by 6:30.

Told you I was tough.

But when you can’t walk and nursing home workers are offering their services you finally get the drift. Let’s just say appointments are being made.

It’s a tough decision when you have stage 4 lung cancer to jump (and I use that phrase loosely) into a hip replacement surgery. Plus, it sounds so freakin’ OLD.

Vain much Suzanne?

All joking aside. Times are hard. There are so many things wrong right now. It’s tough to find humor in anything.

I have dear friends suffering with cancer, Putin is blowing the Ukraine up and killing innocent men, women and children….The Supreme Court is blowing up and people are at each other’s throats….Naomi Judd died….. good grief. I don’t dare wonder what will come next.

Do you feel me?

One of my best friends has the ability to deny. Queen of denial we like to call her. And you know what? Somedays I just have to go there. I pretend. I sleep late and watch Netflix and avoid the news. I pretend cancer and depression and mental illness and war don’t exist. Because truthfully we teachers are trained to be fixers and when we can’t fix something we tend to freak out.

In Arkansas teachers are now being accused of indoctrinating students and not training them for the real world by our next governor… so I try not to think about that either.

Can’t fix it.

But I sit here tonight listening to Jack mow the grass, looking at the beautiful patio plants outside the window, thinking about the women’s group at my church and how wonderful they are to minister to women who are overcoming adversity and entering the world, I listen to my pastor and his passionate words and encouragement….I think of my boys and their families and how precious they are and how their lives are full and good…and I anticipate a patio party with friends who have spread across Arkansas and are coming back to my house for one more night.. …

And I squeeze the love out of each minute, denying the difficult and what I don’t want to face. Sometimes denial is all ya got…

And so it goes.

Livin’ on a Prayer

Woah, we’re halfway there
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Livin’ on a prayer

Apologies to my handsome friend Jon Bon Jovi………….


In 1997 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. After 6 chemotherapy treatments and surgery my MD Anderson doctor recommended a stem cell transplant. The treatment hadn’t taken care of “everything” and the stem cell (basically high dose chemo and harvesting of stem cells, then when you’re near death, transplanting them back in) was my best option. The procedure required that I be in Houston Jan-March with a good portion of that time in the hospital. Thankfully there are better drugs now but in 1998 this was the best available.

Long story short, I was in the hospital when I had a visit from a local Houston pastor. I had signed the info card that I was a Baptist so I’m supposing this minister’s job was to visit Baptist patients (before we were isolated.). The pastor entered my room and we exchanged pleasantries, then we got down to the nitty gritty. He questioned me about being healed and did I pray for it. Uh….yes…. but I added that I wasn’t certain that it was going to happen. My mother had recently died and I had prayed my heart out for her….so I wasn’t hopeful.

At this point he told me my faith wasn’t strong enough and if I believed in prayer and was faithful enough, God would heal me.

Not what I needed to hear. Not at all. I suspect you’ve felt the same…..does prayer really make a difference?

At that point I started questioning prayer, pray-ers and faith. I’m a believer, I was raised to pray, but to hear him tell me my faith wasn’t enough…well, you get my point.

My mother was a prayer warrior… BIG TIME. When I went away to college, (unbeknownst to me) she prayed that I would NOT meet the perfect guy, get married and move away.

Thanks mother. I guess, ha.

Her voice to God’s ear. Although those college years were fabulous and provided lots of fun and lifelong friendships, none of my dating relationships were anywhere close to being serious, and meeting Jack after graduation was the answer to her prayer…. and 39 years later I’m still thankful for my mother, the prayer warrior.

I’m sure I wasn’t the only one included in her prayers…like I said, she was a warrior.

If you’re reading this and you know the Wilkerson family you remember that we lived across the street from the church and prayer played a vital role in all of our lives. You might remember….

  • Wednesday night prayer meetings
  • Community prayer services
  • Prayer services when President Kennedy was assassinated
  • The community prayer service when my brother Mike’s helicopter lost communication in the arctic and he was feared dead.

We prayed. We prayed a lot.

Daddy prayed too.

One of his favorite stories (decide for yourself if it was true) was that a man he was sitting next to during a particular sermon went sound asleep……..after which Daddy punched him and whispered that the preacher had called on him to give the benediction……and he jumped up and started praying in the middle of the service. Sounds hard to believe but if you knew Buster you realize how it could easily be true..ha

At our small Baptist church you had to be on your toes because the preacher might call on anyone at anytime to lead in prayer. Even if you were a VISITOR and Suzanne’s boyfriend.

King James Bible
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

Let’s just say I remember very clearly Jack looking for the closet.

But seriously….. I can remember exactly how my mother would begin each prayer ….. “Our most gracious Heavenly Father and our Almighty God”..…Of course she was never allowed to do the benediction because she was a WOMAN…. (fodder for another blog post)

Daddy was a MAN and a Deacon so he was called on almost every Sunday …. and at the end of his benediction were the words “Go with us now to our separate places of abode and may thy love abide with us now and forever”

I remember these exact words because I heard them so many times….What a blessing to have parents who prayed….

So…. all of that to say this…….

We all have our own way of praying. We’ve heard hundreds of sermons about how to pray. I’m even attending a Bible study about prayer… and still sometimes we don’t pray regularly or with specificity……haven’t we all, at one time or another, posed the same question about why our prayers don’t seem to be answered in the way we want… or if they even make a difference.

It’s probably a good time for a disclaimer. I am NOT a theologian and don’t play one on TV. I’m just a normal person who is a believer and who wants to pray in the best possible way I can. As I read the Kelly Mintor book with my Bible study ladies, one statement stands out.

Prayer should be more relational than transactional…. Good words, huh. Prayer isn’t a Christmas list that you mail to Santa. It’s not….. I ask this for this so I it.. For me it’s a conversation with my creator. My dear friend Jane said it best…”Sometimes it’s just falling on your face”….confessing your hurt, your pain and your human inability to understand why things are happening. Other times I find that I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God and I spend my prayer time just thanking him for all he’s provided….. I’m not a big fan of acronyms but a former interim pastor listed this one. It’s simple to remember.

  • P- start your prayer with praise. …. For beauty, for love, for family….for being alive
  • R- repent….. think about your words your actions or the lack thereof…is it Christ-like?
  • A- ask…. .. As the song says “Jesus on the mainline, tell him what you want”…well kinda
  • Y- yield …..Yield to his will and to the fact we are human and live in a fallen world.

For me pray is often a confession that I do not understand this life. I’m aware that we’re human and we are born to die (even if we think we can live forever.) Illness, loss, grief…..are as sure as love, mercy and forgiveness.

Sometimes it’s simply a confession that I have huge questions ….like…. babies dying, young people suffering….or why tornadoes or hurricanes or mass shootings or Ukraine… and on and on. Sometimes I cry out that I DO NOT UNDERSTAND…..

But I still believe.

“I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when not feeling it. I believe in God even when he is silent…”

― Anonymous inscription left in the wall of a German internment camp

But here’s what I do believe

  • I believe that if I tell you I’ll pray for you it’s not just a comment or a facebook post. I will.
  • I believe that when healing doesn’t happen we need to pray to see what lessons are to be learned from the situation….what goodness can we find…….for me, that goodness has been overwhelming and I feel this love and goodness every day….from family, from friends, from my faith family and so many others.
  • I believe words alone aren’t enough… I believe we have responsibilities as Believers to be the hands and feet of Christ. I used to have a poster that said “prayer changes people and people change things”…… I still believe it and I look for it…..
  • I believe we need to pray and teach our children to pray. To open our hearts and have a conversation with the one true God. He knows our hearts but I believe he yearns for us to have a relationship with him…an honest, sometimes raw, fall on your face, relationship. He’s God. He can handle it.

16 Rejoice at all times. 17 Pray without ceasing. 18 Give thanks in every circumstance, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Oh, we’ve got to hold on, ready or not
You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got
Woah, we’re halfway there
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear
Woah, livin’ on a prayer

Hold on friends……. we’re all livin’ on a PRAYER… We hear you Jon Bon Jovi….

Let’s PRAY


When I graduated from William Woods in 1981 the ceremony was solemn, beautiful and meaningful. Graduates lined up behind the class president who wore a robe with all the lovely embroidery of many years down the front. We were connected by, and carried, an ivy chain on our shoulders as we were led, single file across the bridge of senior lake toward the union where the ceremony would take place. At that point the ivy chain was cut and we were no longer tethered ....tied…bound..fastened..moored..secured but instead untethered and separated, ready and eager enter the “real” world.

Unabashedly symbolic but so true, the ceremony told our story.

The feeling

This week was particularly devastating for dear friend whose precious mother passed away just weeks after her father. As I tried to find just the right words to tell her how sorry I was for her loss…. all I could think to tell her was how I felt after the loss of both of my parents, my brother and my two sisters. I felt untethered……not moored, not fastened, not secured.


At this point many would be quick to remind me that faith should be sufficient.

I beg to differ.

If you are a believer (and yes, I am) you don’t have to deny your emotional reaction to what life brings your way and the loss of family presents a special kind of grief….one that I call untethering…at least it was for me. Just as the ivy chain was cut…. when you lose someone, especially your parents.. the separation is painful and it’s real.

Mother and Daddy

I was the surprise baby. The “unplanned” pregnancy. My parents had 3 children (JoKay 14, Becky 10 and Mike 8) when I was born. Mother and Daddy were 42. I was loved and spoiled by them all. But now they are all gone. We were the family that all “got along”…ha. Were we perfect? Of course not. Were there disagreements? Certainly. But we were TETHERED to one another. We celebrated holidays together, we mourned together. We all went to the same elementary and high school. We all lived within a few miles of one another with the exception of Mike who tended to fly in and out… but always coming back home. We shared every memory of growing up. We knew each other backward, forward, inside and out…….and cherished every memory. We told story after story and laughed and cried together with each one.

So now….

Recently I was at the salon (I usually say beauty shop), getting my nails done, when two former students (they are adults now..remember I taught for 38 years so it’s impossible to not come in contact with a former student wherever I go)… when one of them complimented me on my blog. I laughed and told her it was cheaper than a psychiatrist, which is my usual response and painfully accurate. Another nail tech was giving a pedicure and asked me what I wrote about….. I took a moment and answered that I wrote mostly about what I love…..My family, my church, my faith, my friends, my profession and recently my health.

And then…

The sweet lady getting the pedi (an older than me church friend) was listening and our conversation began. Her face lit up as she shared that during COVID, when she was so afraid to leave her home, she began writing a family history for her sons and for family who lived far away so they would know how they were connected and “who was who”…. She then made copies for all of them to keep. She included stories about her youth and her parents so that they would know about her… It was a precious conversation with a lovely woman… who by the way is experiencing tremendous health challenges… but whose eyes sparkled as she shared many of her memories with me…

She wanted family…She needed the connection to happen and be remembered…Don’t we all? Simon and Garfunkel said it this way in the Bookends theme;

Time it was
And what a time it was
It was a time of innocence
A time of confidences

Long ago, it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They’re all that’s left you

A million memories that only I remember.

  • Mike gave me my first albums.. Simon and Garfunkel and The Monkees. I was in the second grade and mother gave me a baby doll.
  • All the men smoked on the porch of the church between Sunday School and Worship.. No problem.
  • Grandpa shot a deer out of season and Daddy was dressing the deer in the basement when our friend the game warden visited…mother was terrified our friend would hear the dogs barking and know something was up. He didn’t. Or did he?
  • Daddy was a scout in the war and crawled on his belly to snuff out the nazis
  • JoKay’s boyfriend was a skeet shooter and would win stuffed animals at every carnival and give them to me. I had around 50.
  • Mother planned a church service when JFK was assassinated and Becky sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” as everyone cried.
  • Daddy was sheriff and our pastor was Bro. Outlaw
  • Somebody left the screen door open at church and my dog walked the aisle

And a million more. A million.

So….. I guess the moral of the story is to enjoy being tethered to those who know your story and share your memories before you leave. Write them down if possible. Bore your children with stories and don’t worry if you’ve told them before…they’ll remember them better, ha.

And if your loss leaves you untethered to your past…well then, make darn sure you are tethered to the present with those you love. If it’s not family….it’s fine, make them family. Take time to share and let them know who you really are.

I don’t know if you are aware but we’re all going to die. Sorry to bring that up. But time is of the essence. Get busy. Share your yesterdays but experience today with your people. If you don’t have people… well find a good church and jump in with both feet. Bond with your co worker…. heck, my sweet Cathy and Nita take care of my nails my feet and my hair and they know everything! I talk their ears off during every visit!

Oh how I pray you are bound, secured, fastened, moored….. to your faith for sure, but also to those around you. Those you love and to those who love you…and all of those in between.