Fighting to Stop Colon Cancer, One Book at a Time.
Category: Uncategorized
A Letter to My Daughter
Today my older daughter turns 30. Still struggling to wrap my brain around that one. As I thought about that, I remembered her birth day and wrote her a letter…
Hi.
Last night I was thinking about you, about your birthday, and about your birth day. You so didn’t want to come out! You were late. The doctor decided since I was having serious bronchitis that it was time to induce. They hooked me up to a pitosin drip around 4:30 in the afternoon and then broke my water about 6:15PM.
At that time the hospital in Norwalk didn’t have birthing rooms. The labor and delivery area was set up with around 8 beds, separated by curtains—no real privacy. I decided right there and then that I wasn’t going to be screaming or yelling during delivery.
Since it was Monday night, your dad and I decided to watch one of our favorite shows, ‘That’s Incredible.’ I will never forget that because that night they had a story on there about a woman in a Central American country who had over 50 children. There were several multiple births, but even still, I struggled to imagine it. But I sure wasn’t going to follow in her footsteps.
The only other show I remember was some war movie your dad was watching that I finally got him to change off of because I couldn’t stand the noise of the gun fights or all the blood.
The only “assistance” I got was a pain shot, not an epidural. It didn’t help much. At around 4:00AM I wanted to start pushing, but wasn’t cervix wasn’t ready, so it was like you were just banging your head. It’s why your poor little head was so bruised. You looked like a really ripe peach. I felt so bad.
Finally, at 8:42AM you made your appearance. You were the biggest baby in the nursery. Everyone loved your chubby cheeks. You were also one of the best babies in the nursery. Instantly you made me the proud Mama!
The way the OB dept. was set up I had to share a room. The lady I shared the room with got a big kick out of telling people she was sharing the room with a minister. She had her baby by c-section and she weighed around 7lbs. One time when they brought us our babies they tried to give me her baby, as if I wouldn’t know my baby. I had memorized everything about you. No one could have slipped one up on me.
The other thing I remember is just sitting in my bed and talking, singing, and praying over you. And weeping, tears of joy and thankfulness. I felt so blessed. And I still do.
I don’t know how you are 30. I don’t feel old enough for you to be that old. But I treasure each year we’ve had together and hope we get 30 more. We’ll carry on the scrabble tradition, games, laughter, and lots and lots of love.
Love you tremendously and fiercely #1,
MMMT (Stands for Mom, Mom, Mom, Tina–I’m not always the easiest person to get the attention of…)
Blowing Away the Dust and Swiping All the Cobwebs
Wow. I’ve never stayed away this long. I am without excuse. I’ve been trying to make Facebook work (T Wilson-Hunt) and then my computer began making crackling-like-I-may-be-getting-ready-to-die noises so it was in the shop. I’ve been reading and writing. I had a week where my blood pressure was weirdly low and lethargic barely describes my lack of ability to function.
But I should have come and let you know that life was hitting me: wave upon wave. I was staying afloat, but I had taken on quite a bit of water. I’m sorry. I don’t want to not be here. AKA: I want to be here. I want to reflect on my life, share the insights…I need to because it keeps me accountable.
So, what’s been happening? A couple of things stand out to me.
First, I got to meet up with a couple of old friends last weekend that I had never met. Say thank you to the internet for that one. Several years ago I started reading a diary on Opendiary.com that was written by a gal who at the time was living in Washington, DC. She ended up marrying her Prince Charming and they moved to Memphis. After he retired from the military, I helped him with a resume. It meant that we added the dimension of phone calls to our contacts. We also sent emails and supported each other with prayer.
Somewhere around the beginning of the year she posted that she was going to be running her first half marathon at Wright Pat AFB in Dayton, Ohio. That was close enough to me to drive and meet up with them. I determined that nothing was going to interfere with meeting her then. This is how committed I was to this: when I visited my mom in January we talked about when I would be coming back to visit. Her husband was planning a trip to Alaska to visit his son this past week and she thought it would be nice for me to visit while he was away. Knowing that the race fell right in the middle of his trip, I begged off and went in August instead.
So on Friday afternoon, I drove across state to Dayton and found myself knocking on a hotel door and meeting old new friends. It was odd, because it didn’t feel like I was meeting up with someone new, but instead connecting with good friends.
This was my first marathon experience. The atmosphere was electric. I positioned myself near the finish line and cheered wildly as she ran by me! When it was over and we were walking around my friend put it quite sweetly: we’re like a Reese’s Cup, we go together naturally and smoothly. She’s the rich chocolate and I’m the nutty peanut butter.
Something else happened that afternoon that touched me deeply. Julianne headed us toward a tent where they were giving massages. She thought that would feel good after running 13.1 miles. But when we got over there we found that it cost $15 for 15min and there was a 30min wait. She decided to pass. As we stood by the edge of the tent a guy who had completed the marathon on a recombant-esque bike followed by a spotter walked up to the tent. I had been moved during the race as he passed by me. Now as I watched him I was even more impressed. I do not know what caused his gate to be so haulting, but it seemed laborious to me. Julianne mad the comment that if they didn’t give him a free massage they were just a bunch of bums. Without thinking I replied, “I’ll pay for it.”
I walked over and asked his spotter if they would comp him a massage and he didn’t think so. I then asked if he thought the marathoner would allow me to pay for his massage. He looked surprised, but told me that he didn’t think that he would turn it down. I went over to the man who was now kneeling on the ground. I knelt down in front of him and asked if he would allow me to pay for his massage. He looked at me incredulously and accepted. I handed him the $15 and he gave me his card. And then I walked away. (His name was Greg Damerow and his website is http://wrenchtheparacycle.blogspot.com/)
There was something special in the moment. I had tears in my eyes as I walked away and Julianne had them in her eyes when I got back over to her. She hugged me.
This week has been good. Not real productive but a couple of doors have opened…I’ll write about them later…hopefully as they pan out!
25 Things About Me
For fun….Little known facts about Tina
-I am the oldest child, but because my brother was the long awaited male child I demonstrate quite a mish-mosh of first and second born traits.
-I dreamt of being a ballerina when I was a little child, probably because I could do the best spins in my patent leather Mary Janes on the linoleum in the side room. Sadly, my mother felt I was much too uncoordinated and denied me lessons.
-I loved riding my bike through the cemetary when I was old enough to just go riding where I wanted (probably junior high).
-I watched Dark Shadows when I was a kid and bought the trading cards with milk money I squirrelled away. I wonder if that’s why I liked riding bike through the cemetary.
-I worked several summers while in college and even after I was married at Cedar Point Hotel Breakers.
-I’m not allergic to poison ivy, but my brother can get it from the air. At least that’s what I’ve been told.
-Today I sneezed eleven times in a row. I think it was from the cayenne pepper I put on my mixed nuts.
-I love to laugh and make people laugh.
-One of my early jobs was at McDonalds.
-I have played God. Actually, I had the role of Zeuss in our college production of JB.
-I was also the Stagemanager in our production of Our Town. I think I got the part because no one else wanted to memorize the lines…
-Though I hate doing housework, I actually cleaned house to make money many years ago. These people had 3 long hair cats and two long hair dogs. And if I had a dollar for every gegaw and chotzke I could pay off my school loan.
-I have three masters degrees and I started work on a D.Min.
-I played tennis in college. I wasn’t very good, but they needed someone to fill the roster.
– My mother only had one job when I was growing up, and that was as a library aid in our small town. I loved going to work with her and reading.
-I can’t do Sudoko. It makes my head hurt. I try occasionally and then get flustered and quit, vowing to never waste time like that again…until the next time.
-I was fourth runner up to Miss Teenage Columbus in 1974. I was presented an award for third place at BRMCWC for Articles for Print. I want to win.
-I have won the Super Bowl Championship in our Fantasy Football League–a couple times!
-My house has four mature maple trees along the one side and across the front. I love the feel of being surrounded by trees.
-I don’t like raking or blowing all the leaves, but I do enjoy making a pile for my grandson to jump in.
-I can’t talk without using my hands. Someone held my hands once and I started moving my shoulders. When I am trying not to say something (like in a class)I will sit on my hands.
-I love flavored coffee, escpecially hazelnut, but it has to be decaf.
-I love to burn scented candles. My favorite is Angel Whispers by Glad.
-I do not take tests well. I failed my oral exam for my second masters (M.Div) so badly the head of my committee suggested that we consider that the exam never happened and they would give me a new committee the following fall. I passed then. I also failed my counselor exam the first time I tood it. The room was all darkened and there was a screen thing I had to use, and I had to be still and quiet. Nightmare for a techno-phob with ADD. Since I knew what to expect I passed it the second time.
-Someone contacted me this week about writing devotions for a church related publication. I really like that people are thinking of me as a writer.
Book Review: Joy Fit Club
I feel like I’ve been living under a rock. I’m thinking I’m one of the few Americans who have never heard of or seen anything about the Joy Fit Club. I’m going to blame it on my work schedule. I never get to see the Today Show. I’m glad I found this book!
I am on a 100lb weight loss journey of my own, and in part, that is why I opted to review this book. I chose to e-reader version and now I really wish I had picked up the hard-copy instead. This book is page after page of inspiration. I loved the way the success stories were a mix of different kinds of people: young, old, men, women, and even couples. Here’s a list of the other things I really liked about this book:
-I’m a visual learner. Seeing the dramatic changes was so inspiring.
-I loved that the recipes were the kind that real people can use. You don’t need to have a culinary degree to understand them.
-The Diet Comparisons between before and after were helpful and gave me lots of ideas.
-Telling me what they had in their pantry encouraged me to clean mine out.
There was something I could relate to in every story. One person said they had only been overweight since birth. Yeah, me too. Another talked about how her pain was obvious in her appearance. While somebody else ‘fessed up to “secret food.” These people also didn’t just decide to make a change, but took the time to examine what got them into the predicament they found themselves in–and worked their way out.
I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my husband about the book, show him some of the stories about the men, and point out the recipes (since he is our cook). We’re both in this battle and this book gave us some solid ammunition. I liked the way that one of the persons put it, “If it were easy, obesity wouldn’t be an issue.” That got a big “Amen” from me. This book puts it out there that there is no finish line. The journey is the destination.
I highly recommend this book. It’s the kind of thing that is good for a kick start and motivator along the way in the face of discouragement. It sure makes me want to be a part of the Joy Club!
To comply with new regulations introduced by the Federal Trade Commission, I need to let you know that NetGalley Publishers has provided me with a complimentary copy of this book.
Favorite Smell
A friend blogger suggested this…and I couldn’t resist. Thanks Edie! I absolutely LOVE the smell of lilacs and we had none this spring. I would line my entire property with these beauties if I could!
Coming out of the corner
Coming out of the corner
When you were a kid did you have to stand in the corner for punishment? I don’t think I did. I got my fair share of spankings. I was sent to my room. Only one time did I ever miss a meal. I was grounded as I got older and remember losing car priviledges, too. But I don’t remember my nose stuck in the corner. Oh, and there was no such thing as a time out chair in my house.
So as an adult, who is almost fifty-five, today feels very odd to me. Recently, I completed the final phase of punishment for a crime I committed ten years ago. I was not the kid who got in trouble. Never even got a speeding ticket. A friend made the statement that my worst crime was probably the way I cooked meatloaf.
Before I recieced my sentence, I completed a psychological evaluation to determine the likelihood of my reoffending. I was deemed low risk for reoffending. A PSI (pre-sentence investigation) was also done and it supported the Psych eval. So when it came time for my sentencing, the judge ordered me to spend sixty day in county jail, pay a $500 fine, and serve five years on community control (aka probation). Additionally, this crime automatically carried a ten year period of community registration which came with its own restrictions. This final component has been the mostndifficult for me. In many ways it has been like being in a prison without bars, because of the legal restrictions and the self-imposed shame. There wasn’t a single day in that ten years when I didn’t feel some level of judgement, real or imagined.
Today the bars are gone completely. All phases of that original sentence have been completed. It seemed very fitting that the sun should be shining the day it was all done, because I certainly feel like I had come out of a very dark place.
Putting someone in time out, whether it is in the corner or in prison, can provide the separated individual an opportunity to reflect and plan. My encounters with people seems to reveal to me that much more time goes into the planning than into reflection. The plan may be as simple as how not to get caught again or to exact revenge on those the “prisoner” blames for his or her incarceration. As for me, there was much more reflection than planning. I have spent a lot of time, both in therapeutic counselling and journalistic reflection, thinking about what got me into the place where I made such devastating decisions and what I need to do to be sure I don’t ever repeat those mistakes.
So now I’ve crossed into a new place. In some ways life doesn’t look any different than it did a few days ago, but I can feel the difference.
Sunday morning in worship we sang the chorus, “Trading My Sorrows.” It starts out by saying!
“I’m trading my sorrows, I’m trading my shame. I’m laying them down for the joy of the Lord…I’ll say yes Lord…” I get that. I have exhausted myself. Ten years of shame carrying can do that to a body.
I was trying to explain this feeling and the “change” to a friend. Never having walked this path she just couldn’t wrap her brain around the difference. She has only known me for the past four years, so she didn’t know the pre-crime Tina. She couldn’t understand what difference a day would make. This isn’t the first time we had this conversation, either. So once again, I tried using a current example to help her see.
There has been a job advertized online and in our local paper for a counselor position at the local drug and alcohol counselling center. There is licensure requirement listed. I have a counselling degree and experience. I could do the job. Last week I wouldn’t even considered applying. What makes the difference? Two things. First, I have completed my sentence. That means something. And through the process I re-established my credibility and I have the references to support that. They are the same references I would have had last week, but now it’s their word and my action. Even more than that, I have hope. And that is poweful a thing.
What I know for absolute certain is that I am out of the corner. I sometimes wonder if the paint was wet in the corner where I stood. Or perhaps someone stuck a “Corner” tag on my back when I was reflecting too deeply to notice. I wonder this because there are some people who treat me as if I still belong in the corner. Good therapy has helped me in handling this. I just remind myself: they can’t put me back there unless I let them. And all their fretting about my being “restored” is about them. I don’t have to try and carry their stuff–I have enough of a load of my own to deal with thank you very much!
So I’m going to kick around and enjoy a little fresh air and freedom. No more corners for me!
A Latte Love (Factor of 7)
This is such a cool idea. What a great way to be a blessing to others. I’ve heard of others paying, but then to follow through with praying. I was very excited to share this ministry with others.
Sitting on the Floor at the Library
I think I had a revelation today. I was sitting on the floor in the stacks of the library, scanning the titles in the section on writing and publishing. And with a sigh of resignation I decided I just don’t fit.
During the summer when I was ten, my friends and I set out writing our own great novels. Proudly, I showed my work to my extremely critical father, who quickly pronounced that nothing I ever wrote would ever get published. Parental pronouncements can be very powerful…and defeating.
Sitting there on the floor, though, I began to consider that perhaps he was giving me a gift. I have never been able to see myself writing a novel. My brain just doesn’t seem to work that way. I love to stories, the stories of my life. I believe they have purpose and I love to share them. So I felt released from having to come up with the next best novel. There are more than enough people working at that.
So where did that leave me? Other than frustrated? People keep telling me I need to write more. I have always thought that meant writing a book. But Dad said I couldn’t do that. But you’re an adult and you don’t have to listen to that anymore. He’s been dead for over twenty years, don’t you think it’s time to stand up for yourself? But what if he was right? Ack!
I have enjoyed blogging. I like writing short pieces that inspire and encourage. That’s who I am. But I want to do it better. So I went to the library computerized card catalogue (does anyone else miss flipping through the old fashion drawers?) and looked for a “Blogging for Dummies” book. And there was one! And it was actually available! I have it in my possession and I may even break down and buy one for myself.
I’m going to change my twitter profile from “wannabe writer” to blogger. I’m going to learn to excel at this medium and then see where it takes me.
This feels good and right.
Donuts or Honey?
I’m not sure whether God has an incredible sense of humor or just the most uncanny way of getting my attention, or both, but He did it again this morning in my quiet moments with Him.
It had been a rough morning. Perhaps you have these kinds of mornings: I felt fat and ugly and I was contemplating just wearing a Snuggie (think weird looking blanket thing with sleeves). I had made the mistake on this kind of morning of also stepping on the scales to check my weight. What I saw was quite disheartening. I have put back on lmost all the weight I had proudly worked so hard to take off during the summer. I was quickly sliding down a slippery slope into depression. I began thinking that I might need to stop at the grocery on the way to work and buy a big fat apple fritter to drowned my sorrows.
I didn’t stop. I did find a pair of sweat pants that were baggy enough to hide in. I got to work and while I was downing my egg sandwich on diet bread and dish of fruit, I decided to pull up a couple devotional readings.
The first devotional drew from Hebrews 6:1-2 and discussed how as believers we need to move from spiritual baby food to the meat of scripture so that we can grow strong in our faith. The second one I pulled up was based on King David’s words in Psalms comparing the Word to the wonderful sweetness of honey. Irony? Coincidence? I think not. God knew what my heart needed. And it sure wasn’t an apple fritter.
When I was losing the weight this summer I was being very intentional about my diet. I counted everything and journaled each calorie, carb, and fat. I was also exercising on a daily basis and in a variety of ways. I felt good. And I was starting to look better. But I started to get lazy and I took my eyes off the prize. I began to reward myself with the poisonous things that I had been cutting out of my diet. Then right on schedule I developed plantar faceitus. It became too painful to exercise. I had some chest pains so llowed fear to park my bike. Then I caught a cold that cut my breathing way back. Of course I became depressed as I watched the numbers on the scale creep back up, but I kept telling myself I would get back to doing what I knew. What I knew was that I knew better.
What I also knew is that what was happening to me physically mirrored what was also happening to me spiritually. I carry my Bible and my journal with me everywhere, and I have great spiritual apps downloaded on my phone and wonderful sites constantly running on my Twitter feed. But having these things is not enough. Being satisfied with appearing pious is like spiritually drinking poison.
Thankfully I woke up feeling fat and ugly today or I might have continued drinking the poison and sliding down the slope. Thankfully I have enough strength and desire right now to begin eating healthier, both physically and spiritually. I’m probably going to have to endure a lecture from my doctor when I see her later this week. I deserve it. But I’m back on track. My head and my heart feel like they’re reconnected again and I’ll be able to put into practice the things that I know to be good for me both physically and spiritually.
I’m not saying I won’t eat another donut, but I’m not going to be looking for one to solve my problems. Hopefully with a more steady diet of the sweet honey of the Word, I’ll be better equipped to face the problems, avoid the poison, and live stronger with my God. That’s my plan and I’m sticking to it. (honey, sticky, sticking to it…get it?)
Pot of Manna 