The Christmas Rush

It is amazing how the years repeat themselves. Every year I promise
myself that I will begin my preparations early, and every year I wait
until the week before the event to begin my preparations.

I dislike shopping in crowds. Anyone with good sense would do
it early. I'm retired! I can do what I want when I want! Ha!
The fact is that I am busier than I ever was. I think it may be
that I am slower than I ever was. I never seem to accomplish
as much as I would like to.

Sometimes I think that we forget that this is the time that we
celebrate the birth of Christ, not the time to see how many
lights we can put up and on our houses or to make sure that
the Christmas tree this year is the best ever.

I would like to take a step back and think what a remarkable
birth that was and how that one single man, the Christ
child, started a movement that has brought hope to every
man, woman and child who will accept it. It is my solace,
my comfort in knowing that He gave His life in order that
all of us could have eternal life.

I look forward to the Christmas Eve services. They are
always so powerful, and I come away with a sense of awe
and peace.

Happy Holidays to All!

Holiday Time

Christmas time is a hectic, busy time

Unwelclome Visitor - part 2

Dr. Smith told me about a shot, Nulasta, which would keep my
white counts normal for 4 weeks. I received the first Nulasta
shot in Central Florida, and for the first time I thought, maybe
the chemotherapy won't kill me now. I was overjoyed.

Later on that month Dr. Smith ordered a PET scan and it
highlighted new tumors in my lungs. He had to bring out
the big guns now. He put me in the hospital once again
on a Friday afternoon, intending to get a double port
implanted. Here I don't want to get hung up on the comedy
of errors. Just know that every time a port is replaced
the patient must be put to sleep for the surgery.

I had 3 double ports, which leaked, imbedded in my
body and finally one port on either side of my upper
chest. We had to wait Saturday and Sunday because
the surgeons did not work on Saturday, and finally
about Tuesday I finally had two single IV ports which
worked properly.

Then I had extensive chemotherap every day for 4 days.
After many days of chemo and the introduction of
Ritalin, Dr. Smith ordered another scan. I don't remember
whether it was cat or Pet, but the test showed no change
in the tumors. My doctor said if what we did at the
hospital had no effect on my tumors, then I was up a
creek without a paddle.

In the meantime he called in two specialists,
one for bacterial diseases and one for transplants.
I went home and on the internet we found that the
Lymphoma-Leukemia transplant center in Durham,
North Carolina might be a better place for a transplant.

Of course, there was no guarantee the treatment would
affect my disease, but my family wanted me to try.
So my husband, Dan, and I made that long trek to
Duke. I did not want a transplant surgeon who did
a few transplants a year; I wanted doctors who did
thousands of transplants a year.

I made this trip because my family wanted me to. At
that time I was just too young to give up. I had too
many unborn grandchildren to love. I would fight with
all the power I could muster.

By now it was spring 2002. It seemed as if I had lived
years in those months. Many days in the hospital; many
days; many days just existing at home. I don't think I
fixed many meals in that time and did none of the house
work. When I was able to be up, I would sit in my chair
work puzzle books. It was difficult to read books at that
time. I would begin them but I finished very few.

Without the support of a loving husband , family and
friends, I could never have survived the ordeal. I had
friends who would come by weekly and take me out.
My niece Elizabeth came a week and took care of me.
The day after she left, I was admitted to the hospital
with a staff based pneumonia.

I'm trying to shorten this and not go into too much detail.
The second time I went to Duke they took 27 different
vials of blood for various tests. Then they sent me home
with a list of tests they wanted done before I came back up
for the stem cell transplant. Dr. Smith's office arranged
the tests.

When the results came back, I was in the hospital again, and
he came in with the results. "I'm so sorry! I put you through
much pain and suffering and I didn't have to. The biopsy
of the tumors showed no cancer. You have something called
sarcoidosis!"

Let me digress and talk about that week. It was May and
Mother's Day. My daughter came in and told me she had
bought a little dog for herself (and Sam). Later on that day
Jeanine, my son's girlfriend called me and told me about the
ring and the proposal. I told her that she had not had a chance
because I prayed her up. I had , too. I had prayed daily for
the past two years that God would send him a good person
who truly loved him for a wife. I don't think she knew
just how to take that, but she finally realized it was a
meant as a compliment. Now I have 2 year old Chelsea to
love. She is a wonderful gift!

They say good things happen in threes and the third
bit of news was that my daughter Vicki and Don,
her husband, were going to adopt a little girl. That
little girl, Marla, is now five and a half.

I began taking Rituxin treatments. It is a biotherapy
which attacks only cancer cells. It took about two
years for it eradicate all the cancer cells in my body,
after 4 1/2 years I was cancer free. I have been that
way now for 3 1/2 years.

Now I finally get to the real purpose of the story.
During the first 4 1/2 years I had prayers from
churches and individuals all over this country.
Prayer does work! Sometimes it takes a while.
I have been so blessed. There is asmall
Baptist church in Meridian, Mississippi, where
every Wednesday night at prayer meeting they
would pray and send me notes written by every
person there. Those were so appreciated.

A Methodist church in Meridian, Ms and one
in Cleburne, Texas, also sent messages to
me and prayed for me weekly for those 4+
years. There were many others, most of whom
would send messages. I felt so blessed that
so many would take the time to pray for me.

I could bore my readers with many more
lists than they would enjoy reading. My
own special prayer group in my own church
was faithful to pray for me all those months..

I thank God for every day and count it as a
blessing. I thought the telling of my story
might benefit someone out there.

An Unwelcome Visitor

On January 2, 2000 I awoke to discover a small lump on the left
side of my neck. I quickly made an appointment with my in-
ternist. I had to wait several days for that appointment
because I had promised to chaperone my grandson Daniel
at Allstate Chorus in Tampa. By the time we arrived in
Tampa that small lump had grown to big that it was solid
from under my ear down to my shoulder.

We returned on Sunday, and Monday I saw the doctor. She
gave me antibiotics for a week. At the end of that week
there was only a slightly larger mass. No shrinkage at all.
It was not an infection

The next step was to have anaspirated biopsy of a lymph
node on the left shoulder. Then I had to wait for the results
which were not conclusive. Two days later I had a biopsy of
a lymph node on that same shoulder. I waited yet another
week for the results of that

For about three weeks I waited for an answer, dreading
and looking forward to the answer to the question:
Is it Cancer? The doctor began to give me little pep
talks saying , "If it is lymphoma, that is one of the best
cancers to have. It is so very treatable now!"

When I returned to the surgeon's office, he did say it
was lymphoma, large celled folicular lymphoma--the
worst kind. I went home in a fog. The people
in the doctor's office did not know an oncologist--it was
like they hadn't had a cancer patient there before.

They called and made me an appointment with
a cancer specialist they didn't even know. When
my daughter heard the news, she put out the news.
A couple of her friends had survived Non Hodgkins
Lymphoma, and she wanted me to go to their doctor.
By this time I was numb and, like a lamb, I let her
make the arrangements for me to see Dr. David
Smith at Hematology and Oncologist Associates.

I'm happy to say that was a very good choice. In
the next 18 months he had saved my live numerous
times. I had eleven months treatment with a rather
friendly cancer drug called Fluderabine.

The routine was that I had a treatment every
day for 5 days and then had 3 weeks to recover.
My white counts and red counts zoomed down to
almost zero each month, but I managed to stay
out of the hospital during the time I was taking
the first medicine. I also did not lose my hair.
I would look around and see all the bald people
and be so thankful I had my hair.

Every 3 or 4 months I would have a cat scan or a pet
scan or both. When my tumors began to grow again,
Dr. Smith said we would have to treat the cancer more
aggressively. By this time I knew that I had the
worst kind of lymphoma and that usually patients did
not usually survive past six years from their diagnosis.

We began another week of treatments and three weeks
to sort of recover. Well, I don't think recover was the right
word for me. That first month of the more aggressive treat-
ments, I managed to stay well enough to avoid the hospital.

Here's how the instructions were: "If you have even one
degree of fever, call the office once, day or night." What
I did not realize at the time is that when the white count
is down to almost zero and the red count is also down to nearly
zero, my body could not fight any kind of infection and if it
stayed that low, I wouldn't get that low grade fever. I didnot
have fever at all. I did, however, contract pneumonia, had a
staph infection in my blood and many other things. By the
time I finally did call, I always have to go to the hospital.
In fact in one 90 day period, I spent 45 of those days in
the hospital fighting for my life.

In fact I was supposed to have five of those week long treat-
ments, but at the end of four, Dr. Smith said, "I guess you
I'm not going to give you the last treatment I'm afraid I
cannot save you again."

I replied, "Thank God! I didn't think I could survive it,
either.

During that four month period I had numerous shots of
nupergin for my white count and at least 8 pints of blood
for my red count. When my counts would get low, I
would faint. I fainted a couple of times in the shower.
I fainted in the doctor's office, I fainted many times,
many places.

I think I'll stop for tonight. Please tune in for the next phase
of my my miraculous journey.

After the Holiday

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Houston and his family
are safely at home, and the house is quiet. I miss all the
frantic activity of the previous week. I miss that precious
little girl with the lily white complexion and strawberry
blond curls. Chelsea was with me every day they were
here. I can still feel those little arms around me. I do
wish they lived closer.

Thank goodness, Marla lives nearby -- just down the street.
We don't see her as much now that she goes to kindergarten,
but we do get to have her the afternoons and evenings her
parents are both working. Grandchildren bring so much joy.
I do feel sorry for those people who have no children or
grand children. Mine, all of them, are the light of my life.

Now the Christmas rush begins. It will be a little bit quieter
than usual this year. The Jackson Chapmans will not be
here. I hope we will be able to see them in Mississippi
shortly after Christmas.

More later.

Thanksgiving

The holidays, especially Thanksgiving, always bring memories
of holidays and family. I am reminded of the wonderful family
times we had. My mother would always begin cooking several
days before. She would first de-shell the tiny little pecans
from our huge tree. The tree was not a hybrid, but a volunteer,
and the nuts were very small. We all participated in
that first part of the making of pecan pies.

Nobody could match Mother's pecan pie. There was never a
lot of gooey, sweet stuff under the pecans. They went from
the top all the way down to the crust, with just enough juice
to hold the pie together. Nothing ever tasted as good as
that pecan pie.

Mother would also make fruitcake, divinity and fudge.
Every child in the family could hardly wait for that magic
day to come. In the days of my youth, most of Daddy's
family would be at our house. I can't remember ever going
to any of my aunts or my uncle's. They were there, and
that whole gathering would be 20 to 25 people.

In the old days the men and any of the women that the
dining room could hold would eat first. The children,
of course, ate last. My mother always put back some of
the best food so that she could be sure that all of the
children had some of the good stuff, too.

I did not realize at the time just how special my mother
was. I am so glad that I did realize it after I was grown
and she knew how much I loved her and how much
I appreciated all that she did. She was the best!

The holidays have lost some of their luster for me.
I am usually sad at this time of the year. So many
of the family I have loved so much have gone and
my generation is the "old folks."

I do have much to be thankful for, however. I am in
my third year of remission from lymphoma. I did
not expect this reprieve, and I thank God every day
for it. I also have two young grand daughters.
Marla, Vicki's little girl, will be 6 in May.
Chelsea, Houston's little girl, will be 2 in December,
and they are expecting a new baby in June. These
two little ones have brought me much joy, and I am sure
the baby in June will be a wonderful addition to our
family. I can hardly wait.

I get a reprieve this year; Vicki will be cooking. All
I have to do is make the dressing and anything else
she wants me to do. This makes me feel a little guilty.
She works and I don't. I do work; I just do it at home.

More later.

time

When I worked as an educator, I thought I never
could find a minute to just sit back and relax. Now,
ten years after I retired, I find I still don't have
enough time. There aren't enough hours in the
day, and how did I ever have time to work full
time?

The big difference in then and now is that I
have some choice in how busy I am . I
probably do not manage my time too well
because I constantly run, run, run, just
like always. I never have time enough to
play.

Yes, we go on vacations every so often, and
we do play bridge one night per week.
I think much of the pressure is that which
we put on ourselves. I know that I make
myself crazy trying to juggle my schedule
to fit everybody else's .

There are many dimensions of time. For
instance, remember when you were a
child and a summer afternoon seemed
like forever. As we age, we have a diverse
opinion: It seems as if the weeks. months
and years fly by and we never know where
the time has gone.

Home

Robert Frost wrote, "Home is where, when you go there,
they have to take you in." It is that, but to me it is some-
thing so much more personal and wonderful.

As long as my parents were alive, I had two homes--the
physical abode where my husband, my children and I
lived and , of course, where our parents lived.
For as long as one of them was alive, that was where
we went for Christmas, during the summer and many
other times. We went as often as we could so that
our two children would know and have an intimate
relationship with all four of their grandparents.

When my mother died, I knew she was in a better,
pain-free place and that she would not want to leave
it if she could. She had suffered so much and had
asked us to pray for her to go; it was very difficult
to let go, but I soon made peace with myself and
did move on.

When my sisters and I lost our dad, we felt as though
we were orphans, loose, without an anchor. I know now
that my parents were indeed anchors and that we were
cast adrift in the world trying to cope with the loss and
stay on track for our own children.

For the past week and a half we were in Mississippi
visiting our son and his family. My grand daughter
Chelsea really stole my heart as she does every
time I go, and part of me wanted to stay and part of
me could hardly wait until I was back "home" in my
own abode and doing the daily chores that make my
place here a home.

It is so important to go and visit; it is also very
comforting to know that there is a place that
is entirely yours (meaning my husband and I)
and that it is a place where your children look
forward to returning, too. We are their
roots.

Kids Say the Cutest Things

This could go on all night. There are so many wonderful,
funny things. When my daughter was 3 years old, way
before seat belts, she was somewhere with my mother.
My mom only used two taboo words, "shit" and "bastard."
Being the lady that she was, she very seldom said these
words in anyone else's hearing.

On this day they were driving, Vicki standing on the
seat beside her so close that Mother could catch her
with her elbow if she had to stop quickly. Someone
pulled right out in front of her, and she used her "B"
word. My little one just listened.

A few days later something else occurred where Mother
had to stop suddenly. They drove on a little while and
Vicki said to her grandmother, "He was a bastard,
wasn't he?"

That little remark cured my mother insofar as the "B"
word was concerned. My daughter never heard her
grandmother utter that word again. When she was
a teenager, however, she did hear the "S" word from
my Mom . Until that time her Mama Connie was very
careful of what she said before her young grandchildren.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When my son was three,, he was always saying funny
things. I wish I had written them all down. Now that
I am old, I have a difficult time remembering.

One afternoon I was in a rush and made him two hamburger
patties, some fries, some fruit and some milk.. I put his
dinner on a tray and called him to come and eat. When he
walked in the room, he took one look at the food and said,
and said, "Oh Boy, Naked meat. I just love naked meat."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Children are the joys of our lives. It's sad that we are so
busy trying to "raise them right," to clothe and feed them,
to work and to keep a clean house that we do not have
that wonderful one on one time that grandparents (if the
children live close by) have. We do not take or have
the time to really enjoy them. I have, however, certainly
indulged myself and my grandchildren since I retired in 1966.

Nineteen sixty-six was a red letter day. I was free! I
would never work at night again. All my chores would
be done in the day time. I would never set my alarm
clock again. Ha! Of course, none of the above
occurred. I seemed busier than ever and loved every
minute of it.

More later.

Monday Mornings

I meet every Monday morning at 8:45 with a group of women,
some of whom have been coming to the church and meeting
together for the past 18 years. I'm sort of a newcomer to the
group. I've been coming for about six or seven years to this
Monday Morning Prayer Group. These few ladies have had
a great impact on my life and have helped me through some
hard times.

We have Prayer Request cards in the sanctuary where people
can fill them out with their requests. We also bring any
other requests that we may have to add to that list.
The meeting opens with a prayer, then we write all the
requests in a notebook. After that, there is a devotional
and then we pray for each individual.

This group of ladies has had a profound influence on
my life. Their devotion to the Lord and to each other
is evident in everything we do. If I miss a meeting,
they say, "We prayed for you, anyway."

If I had the time to spend with each one, they would
have such wonderful stories of their lives to
share. I am blessed to know them and will
treasure them the rest of my life.

Retirement

From the time I was in grade school, I always wanted to be a teacher. I
graduated from high school at 16 and began college the following Sep-
tember. There were thirteen years between my sophomore and junior
years. During those years I worked as a stenographer and secretary at
several places. I was even the secretary to the president of the college
where my husband taught. We moved to Florida in 1958 and I con-
tinued my secretarial duties until my husband moved us to Orlando
where he was a part of the founding faculty and administration of a
new university. I was in the first graduating class. I spent my entire
teaching career in three Seminole County schools.

When I retired in 1996, I swore I would never work at night again.
I had graded papers--that's what English teachers do--almost every
night during that time. I had dreams of all the wonderful things I
would accomplish when I retired: I would plant rose bushes, I would
take piano lessons, I would become active in the women's
activities in the church, and I would play bridge.

I did a little bit of all of that except taking piano lessons. I never
found the time for that. I did get involved in the church and do
play bridge. In fact, I got myself so involved I often wonder how
I ever had time to work.

The most wonderful thing I have done since I retired is taking
care of a new grandson, Jesse (1996), and a new grand daughter,
Marla (2002). That has been one of the greatest pleasures of
my life. Marla and I also have a mutual admiration society. She
actually saved my life -- more about that at a later date.

I also have an almost two year old grand daughter who lives in
Jackson, Ms. Periodically I have to make a trip up there to sit
with her when they need me. Of course, I am also very much in
love with her. When I am there, I am completely happy. Chelsea
and I have a wonderful time together. We, too have that mutual
admiration society. I have been truly blessed. I wish I were
nearer to her so that I could keep her while her parents work.

Mother

I could never write the many wonderful things my mother was and did,
but I will try to introduce you to one of the most loving, intelli-
gent and just plain beautiful people I have ever met. My mother,
Connie Lum Houston, came as close to perfection as one can.

She was a super grandmother. All but two of her grandchildren
lived in Florida, California and Texas. She lived in Mississippi.
When the out of state grandchildren came for a visit, she always
had his or her favorite foods. When my 8 year old came home after
visiting on his spring break, he would say, "You know, Mom, I am
Mama Connie's favorite."
I answered, "Why would you say that?"
He replied, "Because she always makes my favorite foods."
I said, "That's interesting because she does exactly the
same for all of her grandchildren." And that is what she
did. I read in her journal that she loved to cook for her
family, especially the grandchildren. That was the way she
was. She loved all of us fiercely. Of course, I knew this
without reading her journal.

Another thing that was so terrific about my mom was that she
loved unconditonally. No matter what my sisters did, she was
always there to pick them up, dust them off and send them on
their way back to their lives. Once the crisis was over,
she did not nag or remind them of their indiscretions.
She just waited until the next crisis and helped them out
again.

I am the oldest, and I rarely got myself into any sticky
situations. In fact, my three sisters called me "Miss Perfect"
behind my back. I did not know this until recently. I don't
remember which one told me, but it did sort of bother me.
I felt just a little left out.

Mother never stopped learning. She was just 16 when she
married my dad; he was 23. (My grandmother Houston, my
dad's mom, took mother under her wing and taught her
everything she needed to be a good wife and mother.
My parents lived with her until I was 5 or 6 years old;
after that she lived with us.) She read every book we
brought home from school and the library. When I was a
teenager, she joined a book club, and we all read those.

One of my favorite memories is the time I sent her
a complete set of J. R. R. Tolkien's books. One night
my dad was just a little jealous of her time and wanted
her to come to bed. She replied, "I can't. My hobbit is
in trouble and I have to get him out." This was
a 69 year old lady who loved reading anything that was
well written and she showed it

The point I'm trying to make about Mother is that she
could do anything, whether it was fixing the toaster,
repairing the washing machine, referring a dispute be
-tween her children, or making sure her girls were emo-
tionally okay.

I can remember playing with her gold watch and some-
thing would happen to it. I would leave it where I found
it, and the next time I found it repaired. When I
played with it and broke it again, she would fix
it once more. She never mentioned these incidents. I
was always so relieved that she would fix what I broke,
put it back in the proper place and never say a word to
me. I never thought to thank her.

For as long as I can remember, she has been my ideal.
She was my mother, my teacher, and most of all my friend.
I could tell her anything and she would lovingly guide me.

What’s really Important?

Writing for publication—for others to read is a great deal more difficult than just writing to vent or keeping a private journal. Every time I write a line, I think about how it will be received or how I will be perceived.

Having said that, I will just write whatever comes to mind and think about how it is received at a later date. This comment reminds me that I used to say to my students. “Just write your thoughts about the subject without worrying about punctuation, spelling, or anything else. Then go back and edit and correct on the second draft.”

I would ponder the gift of children and family. My daughter Vicki and my son Houston, known as “Tex” to everybody except immediate family, have made us so proud. They are both successful professionals in the music and education worlds. They love and serve the Lord and are known and loved by many. I also love their spouses. If I had been choosing mates for each of them, I could not have chosen better.

Many years ago when I held my first grandchild in my arms and felt that velvety soft body close next to my heart, I had a revelation: “Now I know why women were put on this earth—to love and nurture children.” Every time I held or hold one of my babies in my arms, I still think the same thing. Nothing else is so soft or brings such a wonderful rush of love and wonder.

Each time I had a child, my father-in-law would say he was a “rich” man.
He was rich in the love of family, and he knew it. It still hurts my heart that
he did not live to see his great grandchildren. Sometimes my husband Dan and
I reminisce about him and wonder how rich he would have been to have had five great grandchildren. It would have made his heart sing to have experienced
that.

Introductions

This is Marla. my delightful five year old granddaughter.




This is my wonderful granddaughter Chelsea. She will be two in December.




I need to get some current pictures of my grown grandsons to put here. Getting these will be much more difficult
to obtain as they are less cooperative about pictures. I am equally as proud of them as I am of the two mentioned
here, but new photos are rare.