The Cat Ate My Sermon

** Nota bene - The following is a transcription of a longhand post written on May 30, 2013 When I think about my so-called bucket list or contemplate the things I would like to do in this lifetime, traveling to the Holy Land really was never on there. That may come as a surprise coming from a pastor.  Certainly every pastor longs to trod those paths that Jesus walked.  But for me, not really.  It's not that I was not interested.  It's just that when it comes to travel, I've always enjoyed staying closer to home and avoiding the crowds.  Tourist areas don't interest me.  And the Holy Land always seemed to be the Disney World for religious people.  No thank you. I could not have been more wrong. Now, the tour is over, but I have not yet left the country.  I am resting on my little hotel balcony, bags packed, with upcoming work responsibilities threatening to penetrate my reverie.  The night-life sounds of Tel Aviv tickle my ears while the cool sea breezes caress m

I've been away from my blog for a long time as Caring Bridge became my writing instrument of choice during my cancer journey.  I now am happily cancer free and much less angry than my last blog post would indicate.  The fury over losing my hair indeed was just a symptom of a much deeper anger within me.  Yet, breast cancer taught me many things.  On this side of it I can honestly say that it is perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to me.  Don't get me wrong.  I would never ask to go through it again, nor would I wish it on anyone.  But the experience of it and the outpouring of support that came from family and friends was amazing and eye-opening.  I hope to start sharing some of those experiences on here as I get back into the swing of blogging. ...and actually, I kinda like my super-short pixie 'do!  

So here it is. I absolutely, unequivocally do not want to lose my hair. (photo on left from 2005) Call it my one vanity. I am not one to wear much adornment. I have little jewelry in my possession. In fact, I was 40 before finally getting my ears pierced, and in the two years since then have found wearing earrings somewhat of a nuisance, dealing with ongoing infections in my left ear lobe. Nor am I one to wear much make-up. I prefer the natural look, wearing a bit of foundation and some powder. Also a bit of eyeliner. Never wear lipstick, excepting the rarest of occasions. And then there's my hair. Long, thick and straight. It's become somewhat wavy over the years, and that is noticeable when I let it air-dry. I love my hair. Some history. One of my earliest memories of childhood. I don't even know how old I was, possibly first or second grade. My family was eating out in a restaurant. The waiter came to the table and asked my parents "What would HE like.&

I just awoke from a troubling dream. In it I was walking across a bridge, and in the distance saw what appeared to be a lighting storm. The clouds obscured my view, yet the lightning seemed to be concentrated in one cluster, and it was drawing closer to me. I started to hurry. After I got over the bridge I was in a large open area, and suddenly what seemed to be lightning was actually a column of fire - sort of looked like a waterspout that you'd find over a body of water. It was coming toward me, and I began running away from it. But it kept coming. I tried to judge its direction, but every time I went the opposite way, it seemed to follow me, getting closer and closer. I began to tire. The fatigue was incredible, but I kept dodging the fire. I felt myself panicking, wondering how I could keep the energy to save myself from being consumed by the fire. The fear was intense, and hopelessness was started to seep in. I finally was able to drag myself into a friend's hom

Okay. Most women know that every month they should be performing a breast self-exam. I never thought much about it, but did take some time every so often to poke around to make sure everything was normal. I mean, really, at 42 years old I never expected to actually find anything. I started getting mammograms at age 37 when my gynecologist lectured me on the need to establish a baseline. Fine. I went and got scrunched in the machine that was obviously designed by sadistic men. And a week later they called me back because of something shadowy. Turned out to be nothing. I learned that getting called back was relatively normal. At age 40, the mammo's became an annual experience. Walk in to the little room and wonder aloud to the technician, "has it really been a year since this torture?" And this year I faithfully went in at the end of March. Exam by the doc, and then off to be squeezed in the machine. A few weeks later I got the form letter that stated my mammo

So...it's been over two years since I wrote a real post. When I first signed up for this blog, I really had the intention to keep up to date. But then, over the past few years, things got pretty rough. Maybe by not posting about them, I felt like they weren't real. Or maybe I didn't want the world to have access to my business! Of course, the likelihood of anyone actually reading this is probably pretty slim, so why not write about it? I guess what prompted me to start back today is that I had to have Mulder euthanized on Thursday. When Scully died two years ago, I expected her brothers to outlive her by a decade. But in July, Mulder developed a coordination problem, that led the vet to believe he had some type of neurological disorder. Steroids helped at first, and we decided that once he started going downhill, I would show him mercy. On Wednesday he exhibited difficulty even moving, so the decision was an easy one (relatively speaking.) Now, this loss of Mulder