Take That

Take that, cancer.

Smiles that lead to

Chuckles that lead to

Giggles that lead to

Guffaws that lead to

Out and out, riotous, tear-jerking

Laughter,

Even joy, in the middle of

Death-defying chemo.

One old Richard Simmons tape and

Two grown men, scantily clad in

Matching pink tank tops, shorts and Blonde wigs,

A flirty, toothless old man with

Cane specially built to direct pee off his shoes,

A zombie-stew recipe card,

A green, smiling M & M,

A scarecrow, a football player, a camo soldier nurse,

Two hair-roller bedecked desperate housewives,

A human Operation game,

A walking sock monkey and

More:

Grown-ups playing dress-up,

Free-wheeling fun,

Big-hearted heroes who

Let themselves be

Blessings.

 

I’ll take that, anytime.

Excuses

I stepped out of character today,

(or, really, I stepped in), and

it was fun.

I bee-came a honeybee.

I felt bee-ootiful and

bee-side myself,

my childlike happiness

bee-ming in wide arcs at the

cancer treatment center.

The only costs?

A few minutes of planning,

a modicum of creativity,

a lot of nerve,

a little lost dignity.

It made me

a joy-seeker,

a merry-maker,

a hope-bringer,

a smile-giver,

a fun-haver.

Just think how much fun is

out there for the having, while

we just wait for some

excuse to have it.

Lord, make me a

maker of excuses.

Bacon Wars

Yes.

You are in the bacon negative.

It was a chance you took

when you snitched bacon

and someone noticed,

carefully counting each

golden, porky piece against

preset rasher rationing.

The smoky aroma was

irresistible.

You had

#l, a crunchy satisfaction;

#2, a crispy strip of goodness;

#3, a grease-kissed ecstasy; then

#4, Oscar-Meyer heaven.

Now you’re officially in the red –

no more bacon for you, and

you even owe a piece back.

Save the remorse for

someone other than the

carnivores who caught you.

Will they extend BLT mercy?

No.

Stubborn Faithful

C’mon, stubborn port –

We need some blood today,

Just a little for the lab, without

More pain of sticking.

I know I’m not a turnip.

An antenna?  Maybe so –

All contorted arms and neck to

Find the precious sweet spot.

A port not giving blood means
Bare arms, tight tourniquets –

Nurses probing, hoping,

Chasing the jumpy veins.

Does a pin cushion dread the push 

Of many well-meant needles?

Does it hurt?  Does it bruise?

Does it cringe before the steel?

I’m counting on you, port.

Work like you’re supposed to.

Faithful fount for years,

Don’t stop giving now.

Canoe on the water

Canoe on the water,

Where will you take me?

Through that yonder slough,

Past the bobbing buoy,

Around that misty corner,

Over the silent fishes,

By that stolid landmark

Toward the distant point.

Away from all my troubles –

Riding, skimming, gliding

Across the wide expanse.

Polite

Polite (not friendly)

A slight distinction, really

Blown off with a smile

Useful

You’re on Spirit-active duty.

Work hard.  Keep going.

Fully use your talents with

Practical compassion.

Be a soldier-athlete-farmer:

Stay focused.  Think commitment.

Fight-run-plant with

Truth-worthy effort.

Embrace today’s mission.

Be a worthy vessel.

Chalice, kettle, bucket –

All of these are useful.

 

*See 2 Timothy 1-2.

Unruly

I like unruly!

Let the leaves blow!

Let the bushes grow

Free, wild, unfettered –

Not carefully trimmed to

Some safe, helmeted shape of

Your own tortured making.

Freedom is beautiful.

Nature knows its way.

Don’t cut off the pretty.

Stunning

It couldn’t have been this beautiful last Fall, or

Ever, ever before, God –

If it were, how could I not remember?

How could I not still be reveling in the

Red-yellow-orange,

Blue-sky,

Open-air

Miracle?

How could I not

Stay forever reverent

In a lasting

Posture of praise?

Lord, don’t let me forget this time,

Unless You mean to bless by

Stunning Glory reminders

All over again next year.

 

Click

It’s fall –

There’s Glory everywhere!

Even the poison is

Beautiful -

Leaves of three

Turning red-green

Around weathered

Gray bark.

Go get your camera.

Don’t forget your camera!

Wear the trusty camera,

or,

Better yet,

Be one.

Click.

You're closest

I sleep better when it’s dark.

Would you please turn off the lights, dear?

I know you really love me and

You’re closest to the switch.

They tell me their stories

They tell me their stories –

Tentatively, at first, then

Freely –

Like bright blood flowing from a
Deep, deep wound.

We compare notes then,

Two strangers

Sharing what makes them

Sisters.

We deliver details:

Diagnosis, prognosis,

Timetables, treatment.

We offer each other hope,

Like the starving feeding the hungry

Every last crumb they have.

We stand for just a moment on the

Common ground of cancer.

I listen.

They talk.

They tell me their stories.

Your Trees

Your trees are glorious today, God!

Surrounded by brilliant blue,

Lit by golden sun,

Lifting their leafy praise hands

In a burst of wreckless intensity,

Everything inside them

Reaching for You,

Dancing for You,

Reveling in a colored joy,

Reflecting Your beauty.

Resting in Your purpose,

Releasing their temporary treasure

In abandon to Your plan, they are

Ready to grow more lovely still,

Obedient to

Your perfect will.

Your trees are glorious today, God!

Eyeful

A Buck Bald eyeful

Stately, delicate, timeless

Tranquil 360

Rig up a fly rod

Rig up a fly rod

Put on some waders

Pick up a staff

Get boots in water

Get boots in water

Ease close to current

Look for a rise

Soak up the silence

Soak up the silence

Make some line fly

Watch the leaves float

Red-orange-golden

Red-orange-golden

Feel the sun set

On well-worth-it water

Rig up a fly rod

Fishin' on the Hi*

Sparkly water

Bright sun

Grassy beds

Rounded rocks

Floating leaves

Mossy ledges

Sturdy staff

Slippery banks

Splashing riffles

Deep pools

Wily trout

Clicking reel

Soaring line

Crafty fly

Peaceful mind

Pounding heart

What a Gift!

Hello, God –

Never a bad day

Fishin' on the Hi.

*Hiwassee River 

Nanny

Giver of

strawberries,

walnuts,

dresses,

eggs,

meat,

jelly,

magazines,

quilts,

hats,

scarves,

debbie cakes,

socks,

bananas,

candy.

She has never known

how not to give, and

she still remembers

Love.

Hole in the Wall

It’s a hole-in-the wall place, that

home of assisted living.

Funny what you notice when

your world becomes

small.

Stuck in a wheelchair,

drawn to a doorway,

appalled by unexcusable disrepair,

she says, “Did you see it?”

“There’s a hole in the wall,

right over there!”

It’s really just the

space for the

cylinder that

locks her In

and

locks the world

Out.

Just like her,

it’s useful,

not unsightly,

to be embraced,

not disrespected,

like a shocking

hole in the wall.

Actual Affection

Did you think of me today

while I washed your dirty underwear?

It’s something I’ve done almost

daily through the years, that

thankless little act of

laundry Love –

the picking up,

the sorting,

the machine management,

the attentive waiting,

the practiced inspection,

the faithful folding.

It’s meant to send you out into the

world beyond Us

clean and neat and well-cared for,

wearing a plain piece of my

Actual Affection.

Stay put

Stay put, Monteagle –

You weeping wet rocks

Longing for pavement.

Hug the high places.

Save your mountain tears and

Hold on to what’s solid.

 Click to hear "Monteagle Mountain," by Johnny Cash.  

(It's not about rock slides, like my poem, but it's pretty cool!)

Monteagle Morning

A rope of cloud

lassoed Monteagle Mountain,

tightened its foggy grip,

then broke –

cut away by the

hero Sun.

Click for info about the 2013 Monteagle Fog Festival (really). 

Closed

Rest area closed

No resting to be had there,

Just disappointment

Molasses Cookies

Molasses cookies

Fall-spicy, chewy, crispy

Such welcome sweetness

Yes*

Alert hearing, not

Disobedient deafness –

Yes, Holy Spirit!

*See Hebrews 3-4.

Diagnosed

I waited

            for the longest time and wondered why the radiologist wasn’t showing up and

            why the ultrasound tech looked pale

            while she worked on me.  Then

I was

            “diagnosed.”

I knew

            when I saw the doctor’s careworn face that the news was not good and

            she, like me, would rather be just about anywhere else in the world

            right then.

I tried

            to tell my husband when they finally brought him back there, and

            the words must have been coming out of my mouth, but

            truthfully, it felt like someone else was saying them and

            lying.

I remember

            one nurse, in particular, with the good sense just to hug me,

            a sustained embrace that said she understood

            no words would be useful before that.

I heard

            those painful phone calls I couldn’t make myself, the

            ones that frightened my adult children and

            burdened my aging parents.

I couldn’t

            pray out loud, and I learned first-hand what it feels like when you

            know the Holy Spirit hears your deepest silent

            groanings.

I claimed

            Isaiah strength:  “For the Lord God will help me; therefore

            shall I not be confounded; therefore

            have I set my face like flint, and I know

            that I shall not be ashamed.”

I turned

            to God.  Then I was “diagnosed” with

Peace.

Normal

Write your name on the clipboard

Step on the scale

Put on the cuff

Pick out a chair

Chat with the nurses

Here comes the ouch

Watch the bag drip

Wait thirty minutes

Listen for the beep

Endure needle removal

Accept the bandaid

Come back next week

Pretend this is normal

Arimidex Shuffle

Pain with each new step –

The Arimidex shuffle

Is not a fun dance.

Pink Journey

So, what’s it like, having breast cancer?

It’s a journey –

A journey that starts with a crash,

A mind-freezing, heart-shaking, oddly silent one that

Alters your small, personal universe forever.

You never saw it coming and never thought it would be you.

It replays a million times over in numb slow-motion clips on the

“This-is-really-happening” news

While you try to process what just happened,

And even more mind-stretching,

The big what-will-happen-to-me-now?

You know – really know – that nothing is a surprise to God, and

He has allowed this change in direction for a reason, or many reasons, and

He walks right beside you, and

He catches all your tears in a bottle, and

He will never waste your pain.

You dread so strongly the knee-jerk rally of the very ones

Who will be most hurt by what’s hurting you.

You watch them heedlessly throw themselves

Under the speeding cancer bus with you.

You want to try to stop them,

To not let cancer crush them, too.

You read books, you watch movies, you sleep –

Anything to avoid those thoughts you just can’t think.

You promise yourself and your family and your oncologist

You’ll do whatever it takes to get well.

Give up a breast?

“Go ahead – take both.”

Chemotherapy?

“I want the red devil –

I hear it’s the strongest.”

Your hair comes out by the fist fulls one day while you’re simply washing it.

You try to convince yourself it doesn’t matter, and you knew it was going to happen,

But it matters anyway.

You have no appetite and next to no energy.

It takes a huge effort to stand, and

Each step is a marathon,

But you tell yourself, (and, anyone who asks),

“I’m getting better every day.”

And slowly, you do, Lord willing.

You heal.

You hope.

You try new things.

You welcome new mornings.

You reconstruct.

You rely on people.

You love deeply.

You practice gratitude.

You keep going,

(and people forget you’re still going), and

You keep going,

(and people ask when you’ll be done), and

You keep going,

(even if you wish you were done with going), and

You keep going,

(and you pray for a permanent cure), and

Along the way,

On the journey,

When you see

Pink ribbons and

Fundraising and

Flowers and

Cards and

Casseroles and

Surprises and

Well-placed smiles,

Well, you know what you’re really seeing

Is God,

And you know you’re not

Alone.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday –

It’s not enough to say,

Somehow,

To someone who

Loves constantly,

Gives selflessly,

Excuses imperfections,

Lifts heart-prayers daily,

Not knowing another option.