This blogging thing isn't easy for me. I can talk your ears off, but I struggle with writing. The proof of that is below. How sporadic can you get? Sigh!
So, today I'm just going to throw some thoughts out. Then I'm going to let some friends on Facebook and by email know that I've written this blog. We'll see if that causes some consistency. If I'm capable of consistency. Smile.
Music and God's word get me through struggles and times of crisis. I depend on those two things like a lifeline as well as my family and friends. There are particular verses, people, quotes, books, even tv shows or movies that have helped me through hard times. Right now I'm just going to share a little bit about the way God has ministered to me through a few songs. To do that I need to back up some so just bear with me.
I can pinpoint what was going on in my life by songs. Turning on the oldies station immediately is a trip down memory lane. I didn't accept Christ until I was 19 (in church all of my life, thought I knew Jesus, really found Him at 19!) and have no doubt that if I'd died before then I'd have gone to Hell. I know that's strong but it's true. MANY songs before the Junior Hill revival at First Baptist Church of Boaz in the fall of 1973 have memories that are not Christ centered. That's the nicest way I can put it.
Sometimes I joke around about things that happened in my life, like sweet Mrs. Plunkett, my English teacher Sr year, walking in the girl's restroom while Joanie and I were in there NOT using the restroom and saying in her sweetest purple haired, little lady voice, "Girls ... is the janitor using a new air freshener for the restroom? It smells really nice." She was a precious woman who lived across the street from my grandmother. They were in garden club together in our small town. Oh...my...I can't imagine how mortified she would have been, as well as my godly Mama Camp, if she'd known what the smell really was. That memory is still hilarious to me. I don't know why. Seriously! We could have been expelled, arrested. I really WISH I'd never done it. A long list of songs take me back to that time in my life.
Even though that makes me chuckle inwardly so many other memories of before I gave my life to Christ are scary and full of heartbreak. I have a picture in a scrapbook of 3 friends and me after the homecoming football game my senior year. I was so happy because I'd been crowned queen that night! Don, Jeff, and Robert are in the picture with me. Don and Jeff are both dead now. Drug overdoses. I don't know where Robert is. It could have been me without Jesus! There isn't anything funny about that. They got caught alright. Caught by the enemy who comes to kill, destroy and steal. The very enemy of our souls. So much music of my past is tied up in all of that. Some I can separate and enjoy and some I can't.
I'm 54 so I'm going to take a pretty big jump to around 6 1/2 years ago or this will be a novel. Frankly, I don't have the time that Margaret Mitchell or Alex Haley had and I'm guessing you don't either. (If that doesn't make sense you need to sign up for a literature class at your local community college or just Google their names.)
As we were making plans to move to this house I wasn't feeling well. I'll spare the details. I saw a gastro dr and he said, "OUT with the gallbladder and pronto!" I talked him into waiting until after the move and Christmas and when January rolled around I had the little surgery done that is supposed to be no big deal. First of all, I found out that whatever they give you for anesthesia makes me hurl like a drunken sailor. Ouch to the little holes they poked in me to take out the gall bladder! While they were in there they found a tumor on my left ovary. They called my gyn and he asked them to leave it alone and let him handle it later. As I recuperated from that procedure I had to get blood drawn for a CA 125 which is a test to try to determine if you are at high risk for ovarian cancer. Mine came back high. So I had an ovarian tumor and a high CA 125 test. My gyn, who is a godly man, and takes great care of me sent me to a gyn cancer specialist for a consult and scheduled surgery 3 weeks after the gall bladder came out.
My song that God gave me was so simple it was really unreal. Michael W. Smith's Breathe calmed my soul and washed over me with a peace that was straight from the throne of God. Sometimes I'd change and let Rebecca St. James have a turn with the same song. If you've never heard the song please go to project playlist and listen to it. You can google the lyrics and read them, too. At that time I knew that my grown sons would be fine if the Lord chose to take me home, but I had 6 children still at home. They were ages 13 down to 5. I knew I had to have the peace that passes understanding to make it through those 3 weeks and through the surgery recovery time. I was desperate for HIM. I was lost without HIM. He was the air I breathed.
I was honestly so at peace during that time. The morning of the surgery my wonderful dr came in and prayed with me and for me. Peace again flooded me. Reassurance that He was in control. That morning my dr removed a tumor the size of a soccer ball that was more fluid in nature than anything (as I understood it) and benign! I was told that sometimes women have CA 125 tests that are positive and don't have ovarian cancer. Whatever. I saw the huge thing on my ovary from the pictures that were taken while my gall bladder was being removed. It looked nasty and I was happy that it was discovered and gotten rid of post-haste.
Recovery was painful
. The incision was long
and then stapled back together. In case of male readers I won't be any more descriptive than that but it started at my belly button. Okay two funnies. While I was in the hospital I was on a morphine pump and truly don't remember much. Several months
later I looked at Delilah (my second son's wife and my best friend) one day and said, "Hey! You spent the night with me in the hospital! You took me to the bathroom! I had the IV pole and that dumb gown with the back flapping open and it hurt
to walk and you helped me and OH I love you for taking such good care of me!" Take into consideration that she was 4 months pregnant with out first grandchild. She's a treasure. I had forgotten until that moment. Then when I got home Emily (who is married to my oldest son, but who wasn't sure if he was *the* one at the time of the surgery, and who I love with all my heart) brought us a meal. Much later her mom said, "my Emily?" Ha! Anyway, she made yummy food that included beef stew, corn, and some kind of bread. The corn is now famous here. It's the kind in the freezer section of the store that's shaped like an ear of corn. It's the one that's white corn. We loved it so much that we have called it "Emily" corn since then. So if you're ever offered "Emily" corn here, that's what it will be! Paula Deen would be proud of us because we use lots of butter!
Okay, I think I'm going to flunk blogging. I have two songs left and I'm saving them. I'll really try to do them tomorrow.
Michael W. Smith closes with, "How many of you are hungry for God?" I am. I truly am.