Busy Daze

These past few weeks have been jam-packed for me, and I'm really thankful for that because it's made time fly and kept my mind from worrying (y'all know I'm prone to do that!).  Between coordinating state testing, totalling scholarships, presenting at Awards Night, speaking at Freshman Orientation, attending Senior Breakfast, finalizing senior records, corralling hyped-up seniors at graduation, and finalizing underclassmen cumulative transcripts (not to mention all the crises that have popped up in between), work has made this guidance counselor a total lunatic.  I am so proud of my seniors, though, and was on such a high last night after their graduation.  I can't believe I've almost completed my first full year in a job I fought so hard to get, and I'm so looking forward to the excitement next year holds.  I miss my first senior class already (how did I get so attached to them in just one year??), but I'm thrilled to say I've already signed my contract for next year (hooray!), and I know there are wonderful things in store there, as well.
I've continued to go home every weekend (this will be my 14th straight weekend in Columbus) to be with mom as she prepares for chemo, which actually starts tomorrow.  She saw her gynocological oncologist on May 7, and he felt she was healed enough to begin this preventive treatment as soon as all the preliminary visits, tests, etc. were done.  Visits to the chemo oncologist and the radiologist have kept her busy these past two weeks, and she's also had a port implanted (where she'll receive her chemo meds), had a CT scan, and undergone several blood tests to make sure her body is ready to begin treatment.  She's even been fitted for a stylin' wig and has it ready and waiting if she needs it days or even weeks down the road.  Tomorrow is the big day, and I would be lying if I said she wasn't anxious and fearful.  She is wholly ready to "get this show on the road," but, as is almost always true with the unknown, she gets anxious about possible side-effects and reactions to treatment.
You have all been so amazing throughout these last four months of our lives, and I thank you in advance for continuing to stand beside us and lift us up.  Those of you who have called, visited, brought food, sent her a card, etc. have really warmed her heart and mine, and we will never be able to thank you enough for your love and support.  I ask you to keep a few specific prayers in mind tomorrow as she undergoes the first treatment:
Pray she will have peace and calm before and during the treatment
Pray her body will be able to receive the medication with little to no side effects
Pray if there is one tiny cancer cell in her body, this powerful medicine will obliterate it
Also, I selfishly ask for a prayer for myself, as well.  I can't be with my mom during her treatment, which, if you know us at all, you know is incredibly difficult for me.  I can't be away from work and won't be able to be home until Friday, so please, if you have a spare second, pray for my nerves to be calmed and my anxious thoughts to be put to rest, as well.  She won't be alone during or after the treatment, but y'all know what a control freak I am... I want to be there with her through every tough situation, but that's just not always possible.  (I think it's very possible God is working really hard in me to surrender some of that need to control everything...)  You, my friends, are so dear to us, and we are so thankful for every one of you.  God has carried us through this season of our lives, but you have made us laugh and cry and put smiles on our faces throughout it all. 
You'll never know how much you mean--

Shower of Love

Before I update you on Mom's status, let me say a special wow and thank you.  I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of love so many of you have shown me since I posted about Mom's diagnosis last week.  Your texts, calls, emails, Facebook messages, etc. have covered me in love and support like a warm blanket, and so many of them have arrived at the exact minute I needed them most.  You are all very special to me, and please believe my sincerity when I say I am so thankful for each of you!

But now back to the news...
We did receive Mom's pathology report late last week.  First the positive:  the cancer was contained to her uterus, and her doctor was able to fully remove the cancer present.  Hallelujah, God is so good!  The news that was a little harder to swallow came in the form of his recommendation that she take 6 rounds of chemotherapy as well as some radiation.  This is strictly precautionary, and, as of now, Mom is planning to follow his recommendation.  We trust her oncologist completely and have total faith in his skill, training, experience, etc.  She will go back and see him around the first of May and, if healed enough from the hysterectomy, start her first round of chemo almost immediately, with one treatment every 3 weeks.  Please pray that her body will be strong enough to get started at that time, as well as that she will be able to withstand chemo with minimal side effects.
Now, as I mentioned in my last post, Mom doesn't seem to do anything the easy way--at least when it comes to her medical procedures!  This weekend was another prime example of that to add to our list.  When I got home Friday night, I noticed Mom's right ankle and lower leg were swollen, red around the ankle and warm to the touch.  She said she hadn't hurt it or twisted it or anything, but we elevated it and iced it Friday night, anyway.  I told her if it looked the same Saturday morning, we were going to need to go to the hospital.  When we woke up Saturday, it looked a little less swollen but not enough to wholly ease my mind.  So, we trekked it down to the ER, where, after several hours and several tests, they ruled out a blood clot (which is what I had feared) and diagnosed her with cellulitis, or a bacterial infection.  We were beyond thankful she doesn't have a blood clot, but we prayed her antibiotic would go to work quickly and effectively to reduce the infection.  Her doctor wanted to see her back in his office today, and, as he told us in the ER Saturday, he was 'not going to hesitate to put her in the hospital to receive antibiotics by IV' if he wasn't satisfied with her improvement.  I came home this afternoon to go to the doctor with her, and I am blessed to be able to say that, before I could even get to the office, he had seen her and dismissed her, very pleased with her improvement.  I am so thankful that we're at home watching American Idol now and not at the hospital getting IV antibiotics!  Again, God is SO good!
Please continue to keep those wonderful prayers coming as Mom continues to heal and prepare for chemo and radiation.  We are clinging to our faith tighter than ever before right now, and we are beyond thankful for your continued love and support.  Please pray specifically for me, as well, as I try to focus on my end-of-the-year responsibilities at work.  I've got lots to do to close out the school year and get these sweet (and, yes, a few not-so-sweet) seniors graduated, and I need to be able to clear my head of cancer and focus on them a little.  Can I ask y'all one other favor?  If you think of Mom over the next few weeks or months, will you drop a card in the mail to her?  She's gotten wonderful cards and notes from so many special people, and they both cheer and inspire her, as well as continue to remind her of how many people love and pray for her.  She goes back and reads those words when she's having a hard day, so those special words lift her up again and again.  I know how much it would mean to her... and how much it would mean to me, too.
Thanks again to all of you for your constant thoughts and outpouring of love; keep lifting us up, dear friends!
All my love,

Clinging to the Cross

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things?  If God is for us, who can be against us?”—Romans 8:31
On this Easter Sunday, I am filled with the spirit of God more, perhaps, than any Easter Sunday before.  God has carried me through these past few days, weeks, and months, and, with His continued strength and reassurance, I hope to be able to withstand anything that comes.  Thusfar, 2012 has been a whirlwind, and my faith has often been the only thing keeping me grounded.
In case you’re lost and wondering just what I’m talking about, I’ll back up and start from the beginning.
On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day (January 16), my mom started having some irregular bleeding.  Having gone through menopause years earlier, this was immediately concerning, so she made an appointment with her local gynecologist.  She saw him on February 2, and he diagnosed her with fibroid tumors and said it was very possible the bleeding would stop on its own.  He wanted to see her back in 2 weeks to check the status of the bleeding and do a scrape of the lining of her uterus.  She returned to his office on February 16 for the scrape, but he was unable to get the sample he wanted.  So, he scheduled her for a D & C (Dilation and Curettage, a routine outpatient surgical procedure) on February 24, in order to obtain the needed sample of the lining of her uterus.  The procedure went smoothly, and we awaited her results.  Throughout all of this time, mom had no pain and the bleeding had ceased soon after her initial visit to her doctor.  We had speculated in our own minds that her doctor might recommend her having a hysterectomy over the summer.   On March 2, however, she went back to her doctor and received a diagnosis I had feared but not dared to speak:  endometrial (uterine) cancer.
Those two words hit me in the stomach with a one-two punch that took my breath away.  Cancer.  My brain could hardly process it.  The word just didn’t even feel right in my mouth—it tasted bad and begged to be spit out.  The world tilted a little in that instant, and it immediately became one of those before/after moments.   My life was one way before the diagnosis; my life is different now.
Her local gynecologist referred her on to a gynecological oncologist in Jackson, and an appointment was made with him for March 13.  Not only was that appointment made, actually, but she had an appointment the following day for surgery, as well—a total hysterectomy, including uterus, ovaries, lymph nodes and appendix, too.  (See why I feel like I’m in a whirlwind?)  So, on the morning of March 13, we traveled to Jackson and met with her oncologist.  As mom and I will both attest, walking into an oncologist’s office makes a cancer diagnosis awfully real.  Looking around the waiting room, I knew that everyone there was associated in some way with a cancerous diagnosis, and my heart broke for them just as I knew theirs broke for me.  Strangers upon entering, we all quickly realized we had more in common than we initially saw. 
We met with her doctor, whom we both instantly liked, and talked with him about the next day’s procedure as well as the possibilities for post-op treatment.  We left his office with detailed surgery-day instructions and spinning heads, but we were both eager to “get this show on the road.”  The surgery went well, and mom began her recovery.  Her doctor had hoped to be able to perform the surgery using the technologically-advanced da Vinci robot, but, because of the positioning of one of her ovaries, he had to do an incision.  That caused mom some additional discomfort as she began to heal from the operation, but we were, of course, in favor of him doing whatever he needed to do to get the cancer.  In addition, mom lost a good bit of blood during surgery (all of the nurses kept saying she had a “big surgery”), so, several days after her operation, she had to receive 2 units of blood.  We were released from the hospital on Monday, March 19, and headed home to Columbus (you can imagine how unpleasant that ride was).  After only being home a few days, I noticed that one of the incision spots looked a little infected, so I called her oncologist’s nurse practitioner to check it out with her.  She called mom in an antibiotic, which we started that day.  (It’s a running joke with mom and I (observed in her past surgical endeavors), that she can never do anything the easy way!!)  In the weeks since, she’s been resting and recovering and trying to regain a little bit of strength every day.  I’ve been coming home to help her every weekend, as she gets tired very easily.  I am, without a doubt, exhausted and practically dead on my feet much of the time, but I’m so thankful to be able to help her through this time and even more thankful for the strength God gives me to continue on. 
As it stands now, we await one final piece of the puzzle to know where her treatment will go from here.  We are still waiting on the pathology report from her surgery, as the lab has been backed up and her doctor wants to have time to thoroughly study the pre-op and post-op reports.  You can probably imagine how tortuous this waiting has been, but we cling to the knowledge that this too is part of God’s plan for both of our lives, and we know that, in perfect time, the next steps will be revealed.
I cannot thank you all enough for the calls, texts, emails, cards, visits, flowers, food, and, most of all, thoughts and prayers you’ve sent our way over the past weeks.  Your love and support has kept us going when things got too heavy, and we will never be able to express to you all how much it means.  I ask you to please continue to pray for us as we await the pathology report (which we hope to have Tuesday) and find out what, if any, will be the next step in mom’s treatment.  Seeing as the first symptom appeared not even 3 months ago, you can understand why our heads continue to spin when we really think about all that has come to pass so far this year.  We ask your prayers for strength, patience, thankfulness, and, perhaps most of all, trust in God’s perfect plan.  We fully believe that God is in control of all things, but worry and anxiety and discouragement inevitably try to creep in, and your kind words and fervent prayers help us fight those dark moments.  I will try to be more vigilant in updating the blog, but let me again say a huge THANK YOU for all you’ve done for us these past weeks!!
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."--Jeremiah 29:11
To God be the Glory,

Fun in a Clothes Basket

So, over the weekend, my mom asked me to help her clean out her old closet.  Two summers ago, we added a new bedroom onto our house, and my mom moved into that room.  She moved most of her clothes into the new closet, but there were some left that still needed to be moved to the new room or given away to the Salvation Army. 
I must admit, I wasn't particularly psyched to help with this project (since it mostly involved me hauling the clothes out of the closet, down the stairs, and into the new closet or the car).  I suppose I was to be the muscle of this operation, which means, in short, we were behind before we even started.
Anyway...
In the course of the cleaning out, I did get a few laughs from some of the clothes we came upon, and I just had to try on (and take a picture, of course!) some of the most hideous.  I would love nothing better than to share these disasters with you now.
(Note:  My mother's wardrobe is not terrible.  Please don't hold these singularly heinous pieces against her, as she usually dresses just fine.  We've all bought and worn things we later regret, right?  And,if we're lucky, they end up on the internet somewhere.  I just didn't want my mother to miss out on that experience.)
The first ensemble I discovered is this greenish monstrosity, complete with Chicago Bears linebacker-worthy shoulder pads and grossly tapered knit pants.  Yuck.  This little beauty of an outfit actually still had the receipt in the pocket of the jacket, and we were horrified/relieved to discover it was bought in October of 1990(!!).

Althought this next item is not so much an outfit and more of a terrible excuse for sleep/loungewear, I just had to feature it, as well.  Housecoats, if you ask me, are never a good idea.  I think the picture speaks for itself, yes?

My mother wore this black-and-blue pair in Disney World in 1995.  Even though I've seen it in pictures, seeing it in person was a little unsettling, I must admit.  And, yes, if you think you're seeing black-and-blue checks on those pants, you're correct.  You're eyes are not, in fact, playing tricks on you; it's just that bad.

This next piece is just sad.  This vest is not some leftover article from a costume or a cute little joke.  It's a flowered denim vest that my mother loved.  I had to get it out of the house quickly, honestly, in fear that she would paw through the bags and stash it in the back of her closet.

Finally, the piece de resistance, if you will.  This little number was an outfit my mother defended all the way out the door, saying she had worn it to really nice events and recounting compliments she got on it more than twenty years ago.  That's just it, Mom.  More. Than. Twenty. Years. Ago.  Today, it's just ugly.  And funny.  People say there's no such thing as "too much of a good thing."  I say when that 'good thing' is neck-to-ankle floral print, there most certainly is.

Aren't parents always good for a laugh??

Catching Up

Hey, friends.
I'm still here; I'm just crazy busy these days taking care of my mom.
I just wanted to share a quick update on my mom's post-surgery progress and ask for a very specific prayer request. 
Monday will mark the four-week mark since her surgery, and in those four weeks we have been riding one wild coaster.  During these weeks, we've made a middle-of-the-night trip to the emergency room, battled excessive swelling, fought down a fever, and dealt with some other bumps in the road.  We have been to the doctor's office several times, and many tears have been shed between the two of us.
We are still fighting one battle, though, and for that I ask your very specific prayers.  Forgive my somewhat graphic request, but here goes.  She is still having tiny pinpricks of blood from her incision, and, until those stop, we cannot continue with physical therapy and her recovery.  I know it might sound minimal or silly, but we have been stopped from progressing for six days now due to this bleeding, and we are both fighting frustration and discouragement at every turn. 
Some days it seems like we take two steps forward and three steps back, and it just almost seems to be too much sometimes. 
She's so strong and wants so badly to be invested in physical therapy and getting back to the routine of her life, but, for some reason, that's not the plan God is following at the moment.  I ask you to pray for not only the stopping of this tiny bit of bleeding but also our patience and acceptance for God's timetable instead of our own.
Your prayers keep me strong, and your friendship means the world.
All my love,

A Test of Faith

The past eight days have been one test of faith after another, filled with highs and lows, triumphs and stumbling blocks, smiles and tears. 
That's life, though, in its purest form, I suppose.
My mom is doing well, but we have had a few trials and anxious moments that have left me on my knees.  We have listened to the same CD of hymns about thirty-eight times, and I have talked long with God throughout each of these days.
The long is road ahead of us, but we are trying to pray through the pain, laugh through the tears, and look for the positive anywhere we can find it.  It's not always easy, and we sometimes fall to discouragement, but we're putting our faith in Him and putting those hymns on repeat once again.
My faith has been tested yet again and come out even stronger.

"Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow... Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me."

The Power of Prayer

Dear Friends,
"Jesus answered them, 'Do you now believe? Indeed the hour is coming, yes, has now come, that you will be scattered, each to his own, and will leave Me alone. And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with Me. These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.'"--John 16:31-33
Exactly one year ago, my mom underwent surgery for a total knee replacement.  The surgery was incredibly successful, but she had a small snag the night of her surgery that put her into the ICU for a day.  After that big scare (which ended up being rather easily treated, thankfully), her recuperation and physical therapy was grueling and physically difficult, but she attacked every day with amazing strength--physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual.
I was with her throughout the process last year and, in fact, slept on the couch in the same room with my mom for ten weeks.  We went through the whole process together; each mountain was climbed together, each victory celebrated together.
Shortly after the physical therapy ended last summer, we began to talk of the surgery for her other total knee replacement.  Tomorrow morning--exactly one year later--she will enter the hospital for that surgery, and we will start the entire process all over again. 
As I write this to you tonight, I am a mix of emotions.
I am ready to get this process started and get this show on the road.  We have been gearing up for this for months, finalizing little details for weeks, and scribbling on post-its for last minute reminders for the last few days.  I am geared up, and I feel prepared, and I'm ready to get this ball rolling.
I am excited for the opportunities that could come into her life with this surgery.  I want her to be physically strong and whole again.  Every day over the past year, I've witnessed how much she's improved, but I've also seen how much she needs this other replacement.  I don't want any setbacks or hiccups to hinder or stall her recovery.  
I am confident in her whole medical team--surgeon and assisting doctors, nurses, physical therapists, and everyone in between.  I believe they are well-trained and capable, and they will bring the best care to her they have the power to provide.
I am hugely scared of history repeating itself and us hitting a snag again.  It's kind of a double-edged sword:  everytime I see her in pain, it hurts me, but it also reminds me of last year's bad memories, and both cut straight to my heart.  I've been pushing these scary thoughts away for twelve months--hiding them behind music, movies, books, schoolwork, and moments of laughter--but they've always been lurking just below the surface, and I can't push them away anymore.  The closer we've come to the surgery, I've had frequent insomnia, I occasionally wake up drenched in sweat, and sometimes I have terrifying nightmares.  I don't have doubts about the surgery and the process, I am just scared.  I had the normal fears that accompany any surgery last year; this time my memories are haunting me. 
Up until about a week ago, I was really scared all the time, and I wasn't sure how I was going to survive this final week.  I thought about it constantly, and I was terrified of the things that were constantly running through my head.  I started praying about it all the time and, when I would get particularly frightened, go through the words of hymns in my head.  Some of my favorite go-to's were/are The Old Rugged Cross, A Mighty Fortress is Our God, His Eye is on the Sparrow, Great is Thy Faithfulness, and, when all else fails, The Lord's Prayer.  Here are a few of my favorite lines from A Mighty Fortress, my favorite hymn:
"And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed,
His truth to triumph through us."
Earlier this week, though, a sort of peace came over me that I know came from Him. I have been able to sleep well, and I've been able to put the thoughts that scare me most out of my head, for the most part at least. My mom and I have laughed and talked of things beside the surgery; we have both been able to have a happy week. My prayers have been answered, and I have been reminded, for about the zillionth time, how great God truly is.
"I will say of the Lord 'He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.'"--Psalm 92:2
I am, of course, still scared as we sit just hours in front of my mom's surgery, but I am leaning heavily on Him.  I know that His will will be done, and I know that I cannot possibly control or handle this situation on my own; I can't really do much of anything without His help, actually.
"Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word), In God I have put my trust; I will not fear. What can flesh do to me?"--Psalm 56:3-4
I ask, of course, for your prayers and thoughts for my mom and I throughout this process--especially tomorrow and through this week we'll stay at the hospital.  It's just my mom and I, so everything she goes through is something I go through, as well.  I know she's anxious for things to go smoothly, as well, so your prayers to calm her nerves (and mine!) would certainly be appreciated.  Y'all constantly blow me away with your love, support, patience, understanding, and listening ears, and I am honored to count you all as my friends.  Your prayers and thoughts mean the world to me.
"For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone."--Psalm 91:11-12
As I close this out and get ready for bed, my hands are shaking, and I know I am on edge.  My mom cried as I told her goodnight, and I know we will both be changed people in a few days when some of this weight has been lifted.  I pray the Lord will calm her nerves to ready her for surgery and clear her head so she can rest tonight
"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."--Philippians 4:6-7
Last year it was about a month post-operation before I was able to post again, so I don't know when we'll meet again. I love you all, and I thank you so much for what you mean in my life. I'll see you when I see you--
All my love,

Down to the Dirt

So, last night... just five literal minutes after I posted a blog, I got a phone call from my mom.  Already this was unusual, as it was 9:56 PM, and my fourth-grade-teacher-mother is usually snug as a bug in a rug by that time.  I knew we were in for an adventure when her first words were, "I need your advice."
When my mother says words like "I need your advice" or "I'm not sure what to do," they are almost always followed by some outlandish predicament my mother has found herself in and is, in turn, calling me to get her out of.  It could be anything from not being able to make the television remote work to water pouring out of the hot water heater and flooding the kitchen floor.  (The remote I can usually handle; what does she think I can do about the cascade of water?  Seriously, call a plumber.)
Last night was no exception.
The next words after "I need your advice" were legendary.  They went something like this:  "I think I have a tick in my eye."  Not like a nervous twitch or a muscle spasm, mind you, an actual insect.
The first thing I did was ask if she was sure it was a tick.  (Remember this; it will be important later.)  She said she was certain it was, and that she had tried to pull it off with her finger and a pair of tweezer, and it wouldn't budge.
Wonderful.  It's 10:00 at night, and my mother has a disease-carrying bug in her eye.
So, we debated what she should do.  Go to sleep?  Call her eye doctor?  Go the emergency room?  She was determined she needed to go to the emergency room, and that I needed to drive home and meet her there.  I don't live but about 30 minutes from my hometown, so I really didn't mind going to meet her, but I really wanted her to call her eye doctor and see what he said instead of rushing down to the local circus known as the ER.  
We decided she would call her eye doctor and call me back.
I went ahead and changed out of my pajamas, for I felt it inevitable that I would be making a hometown journey.  Within minutes she called me back and said that she was going to her eye doctor's office to meet him (oh, the charms of small-town living) and that she wanted me to meet her there.  In actuality she had me, her eye doctor, and her best friend all headed into town to meet her to remove the alleged tic.  What a diva.
So, I'm on my way to Columbus to meet my mom and see the tic in person.  Or so I thought.  I don't even make it to the airport exit before she calls me and tells me to turn around, for the whole fiasco is over.  Done.  Finished.  
The tic has been removed, and the doctor has sent her on her way.  
Oh, wait.  It wasn't even a tic.  It was a piece of dirt.
That's right... a piece. of. dirt.
Therefore all the questions I didn't ask in the first place (like, Did you not feel something crawl into your eye? or, How come it just showed up there out of nowhere?) because they appeared invalid all became glaringly... valid.
In the meantime, her friend is waiting at our house, confused as she can be because she thought she was supposed to come to the house and pick up my mom to take her to the doctor's office.
In essence, my mother had everyone driving around creation in the middle of the night, moving heaven and earth to salvage her eye from lyme disease... when all that was really there was a harmless piece of topsoil.
How undeniably typical. 

Birthday Girl

Today is my mom's birthday.  She's a pretty funny lady, and there are so many wonderful things I could say about her.  Today, however, I chose to go in a different direction.  The following are a few of the crazy/funny/neurotic/maddening/insane things I love about my mom.

Top 10 Crazy Things I Love About My Mom:

10.  I love that my mother could talk to a brick wall.  Like my grandmother before her, this lady has the true gift of gab, and she can sometimes be found blabbering with total strangers about absolutely nothing.  This trait has obviously skipped a generation in me, for I would much prefer to sit in silence with my nose buried in a book to prattling away with a person I'll likely never see again. (Why do I need to talk to strangers when I can spill my guts to all of you?!)

9.  I love that my mom still cries every time I come home and leave again.  Keep in mind that I a) have been in college for basically seven years, and b) live twenty-five miles from my mother's house.  It never fails, though, she cries every time I arrive and every time I leave.  I must note, however, that my mother cries at, well, a lot--another way in which we are fundamentally different.

8.  I love that my mother is technologically impaired--big time.  Although I have shown her how to use her DVD player probably twenty-eight times, it still confounds her; the cell phone is a constant source of confusion; the answering machine might as well be the Rosetta stone, as close as she is to figuring out how it works.  Technology just isn't her thing--hence why I set her up a gmail account and she promptly forgot the password, never to log in again.

7.  I love that my mother polishes her polished fingernails.  This one I just find funny.  She gets a manicure every two weeks (her luxury she treats herself to), but every morning she polishes the nails to keep them shiny.  I don't mean she reapplies topcoat; I mean she sort of buffs them with a paper towel or Kleenex to keep them at their shiniest.  She is convinced this makes her manicure last longer, and who am I to argue?

6.  I love that my mother refuses to acknowledge that I'm a grown up.  She's constantly reminding me to lock my doors, get gas, RSVP to events, call when I get there, etc., etc., etc.  It's a good thing she does this so often because I couldn't possibly remember to, say, pay my car insurance if she didn't remind me.  Sometimes she even asks me if I want her to call and wake me up in the morning, as if I don't wake up every morning on my own.

5.  I love that my mom has a love/hate relationship with Chapstick.  I have tried for years to tell her that, every time her lips are dry, she doesn't have to reapply lipstick, for that is why Chapstick and lip balm were invented.  She won't have it, though.  She's whipping out that lipstick tube every chance she gets, even though there's tubes of Chapstick stashed in every drawer in our house.  She also keeps new tubes of lipstick in the freezer, which wholly baffles me.  What is the reason behind this?  Do they go bad?

4.  I love that my mom is a master at Trivial Pursuit.  The woman is a trivia sponge, and she is great to have on your team when playing Trivial Pursuit.  She has a great memory, and she is almost always dead-on. 

3.  I love that my mom is a world class whistler.  Seriously, she can whistle anything--and at unbelievably shrill decibels, as well.  Apparently, according to family legend, some man was on The Tonight Show decades ago, and he was not nearly as good as my mom, so my family is always saying she missed her calling.  As what, I'm not quite sure.  Her whistling is something to be experienced, though--especially her specialty, John Philip Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever.

2.  I love that my mother has selective hearing.  When she's watching the news, she can hear, without fail, every time the words kidnapped, escaped, missing, murdered, etc. pop up.  More often than not, she will report these tragic stories to me as soon as she can get me on the phone and keep me updated on them as they develop. 

1.  I love that my mother is an amateur meteorologist.  She keeps me informed of when snow, ice, torrential rain, straightline wind, tornado, hurricane, flood, thunder and lightening, and extreme cold/heat is predicted, whether it applies to my region or not.  She devotedly checks the local on the 8s, whereas I don't even know what channel is the Weather Channel.  

For all the ways that we are different, we are an awful lot alike, and for that I am so thankful.  My mother is a shining example to me and a great inspiration.  More than that, though, she is a great friend, and we have so much fun together.
Happy Birthday, mom!  Hope you have the best day!  Love you!! 
  

Silent Prayer

Dear friends (for I do consider you all friends, even those who remain cloaked in the veil of anonymity),
Today's post is a serious one. Tomorrow morning my mom will enter the hospital, and at one o'clock she will enter the operating room for a knee replacement. I know this is a routine surgery that is done thousands of times every day across the country, but nothing is routine when it is personal.
My mom has withstood arthritis for the last sixteen years, and she has gone as long as she can go on these knees; it's time for a trade-in, an upgrade, a newer model, if you will. It has come to the point that every step is a struggle, and you can see the pain she is constantly feeling written all over her face. At 56, she is a relatively young candidate for a knee replacement, but she has simply endured as much as she can.
I ask you for your prayers and thoughts throughout this process. I ask, of course, for prayer throughout the actual surgery tomorrow, but the road of recovery will be a long one, as well, and I know there will bumps in that road. I ask you to pray for my mom's strength, determination, and dedication to fulfilling the goals necessary for recovery. I also ask that you will pray for her to have calm throughout these final hours before the surgery; my mother is a lady of strong faith, and I know her faith and trust in the Lord will take her a far way.
I also ask that, while you're at it, you say a little prayer for my courage and patience throughout this process. Because my mom and I have been a two-man team for the past fourteen years, a lot of the responsibility that comes along with preparations, care, and arrangements for the surgery has fallen on my shoulders. I will be the first to admit that sometimes that responsibility frightens me, but I know my faith in God will help me to overcome the obstacles I fear. In addition, I know there will be days throughout her recovery that will try my patience, and I ask that you pray for God to give me understanding and resilience so that I can be an encouragement to her.
Finally, I ask you to pray for the team of doctors, nurses, and therapists that will take her through surgery and recovery. I pray God will use these people as his hands on earth to heal what is broken and hurting in my mom. I pray that even though they go through this procedure everyday, she will remain an individual to them, a person and not just a chart. She has full faith in all of these people, and I know she will receive excellent treatment.
As I said above, it has been just my mom and I for more than a decade now, so, although she is having the surgery, we are really going into this together. She and I have an indescribable bond, and, although, like all mothers, she knows just how to push my buttons, I cannot imagine what my life would be like without her. I ask you to offer up a prayer anytime you think of us throughout these next days, weeks, and months as she recovers. Any prayers would be valued and cherished, even if you don't know my mom, even if, in fact, you don't know me.
I thank you in advance for your love and support throughout this process. Your support for me in turn supports her, so I thank you for your thoughts and prayers. I thank you just for listening.
All my love,
Spring

The More Things Change

Yesterday I had a bit of a meltdown.
You know how moms seem to know exactly what to say, just what buttons to push to make your blood pressure shoot up, your face turn red, your fists clench and your temper come to life? My mom is very skilled at this exercise; she pulls it out at the most unexpected and often inopportune times, then acts like she didn't know what she was doing.
Please.
This is not my first rodeo, lady.
Anyway, she pulled one of those maneuvers on me yesterday, when I was literally minutes from going upstairs to get ready for Bailey's engagement party. What she said is not important, I don't even think it was anything that huge; it was just one of those things that she knows drives me insane. I think we all have them, and they're probably often unique to each of our lives and our individual relationships with mommy dearest.
So, she pushes my button just enough to get a big reaction out of me, but then she just can't stop. She pushed a little more, and then the dam broke. I totally lost it, fell apart completely. Here comes the crazy part, though: when I got down to the nitty gritty, I realized it wasn't about my mom at all.
Horror of horrors, it was much worse than that.
I've had a hard couple of weeks and haven't been able to get focused on school or get on a regular schedule. I'm tired all the time, but I can't sleep; I don't want to do anything productive. I've been what I guess you could call melancholy, but I finally think I've seen clear of my funk.
When it comes right down to it, I think a lot of this stems from one thing: I'm sad Becca is moving. There, I said it. I know, I know... she's only moving two hours away, I can see her all the time. But here's the thing: since Becca and I met in third grade, we've been best friends, and, more than that, we've never lived more than twenty minutes apart.
I don't really know why her moving has hit me so hard, but I've just had a really hard time getting okay with it. Maybe it's because we've been through so much together in the last fifteen years? We've vacationed with each other's families; we survived junior high dance team together; we lived through high school together, college transitions, pledging different sororities, and graduations; we've been together through hard times in both our families; we've told each other about every crush, every bad date; we've traveled together; we've told and re-told our stories hundreds of times; we've grown up together, and we've told each other everything. Sometimes the sheer magnitude of our friendship overwhelms me.
So, I've admitted that I'm not the biggest proponent of change, and now that I've admitted the real backbone behind what's been wrong with me the last few weeks, I think I'm okay. Although I was on the brink of losing it yesterday, I've got it all in perspective now. You see, it's like this: Becca and I have always said that we function better as a team; for whatever reason, it's just that simple. I know that's not going to change because there's a couple of hours between us; our friendship is just too strong for that.

Now You Know

I can't wait to move back to Starkville. Everybody knows how excited I am, and I've been telling every person I see about it since April. I've bought all my furniture; I've ordered my new computer; I've packed lots of boxes and painted several pieces of furniture. I am SO excited.
But sometimes...
I get sad. There... I said it. There's a tiny (miniscule, barely counts for anything) part of me that knows how terrible it will be the day I load up that last box and drive out of my driveway. Every once in a while I think about it, and I have to force myself to think about something else. It hurts too much.
"Come on, quit being such a baby! You're only moving twenty-five miles away," you say. And you're absolutely right. But when you've been through as much with a person as I've been through with my mom, twenty-five miles sometimes feels like twenty-five hundred miles. It's unbelievably difficult to explain and impossible to avoid. It's not something I believe I will ever grow out of; I'm not even sure that I want to.
For all of her incessant nagging and millions of phone calls; for all of her "why don't you try it this way"s and her lists of things for me to take care of, there's also her cards for no reason and her "surprises" when she knows I need them; there's her unwavering support and her boundless understanding.
So, sure... I'm ecstatic to move into this new phase. Of course I am. But I would be lying if I said that there wasn't a particle of me that wished I could stay here forever.