My Heart is Broken and My Spirit is Grieved

On September 10, 2025, evil reared its ugly head at a college campus in Utah. Charlie Kirk, a conservative debater and Christian, was murdered by an assassin. I was at a baseball game and my son sent me a text, "Hannity says Charlie Kirk didn't make it." My heart dropped. I texted back and asked him what happened, and he told me he was shot during a campus event and killed. I can't describe what I felt at that moment except to say I was shattered.

I'm writing this, primarily for myself. I have cried. I have mourned. I have prayed. I have watched hours and hours of his videos, and I cried some more. I didn't know him. But he was a fellow Christian--more than that, he was an evangelist who shared the gospel with courage and commitment. I have followed him for years and admired his boldness in sharing his faith and willingness to stand up for the same morals and beliefs I hold dear.

As the days have passed, God has convicted me and asked me if I could be as bold as Charlie. Would I be willing to share what I believe, knowing it could cost me everything? Sadly, before September 10, I had not been bold or even willing. I feared I might lose friends. I worried I might lose customers. I rationalized that I had to stay neutral. Not anymore.

I've been immersed in social media posts from people who have been convicted, as I have. They have reclaimed their faith, taken their families to church for the first time, purchased a Bible for the first time, accepted Christ, and been baptized. Was it Charlie's sudden death that caused them to feel this way? Yes and no. 

There's been a shift in the spirit world, and God is moving, using Charlie's death as a moment in time to draw those to him. People who have never heard of Charlie Kirk are watching his videos online, listening to his testimony, and seeing how he lived for God, and seeking the God of his faith. 

There will be before September 10th and after September 10th. The youth of this country have been awakened. The Christians have been revived. The unbelievers are being drawn toward Jesus. 

Charlie Kirk was a martyr in all respects. He died speaking the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ. His death will not be in vain. God is, and will continue, to use it to His glory.

John 12:24 says, "I assure you and most solemnly say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone (just one grain, never more). But if it dies, it produces much grain and yields a harvest."

Looking toward the harvest of souls!

When You Need Your Mother

 

There are those times in life, even if you’re in your 30s or your 60s and beyond that you need your mother. Even when you’re a mother yourself, you need your mother. There are those inevitable questions you have when you get engaged, married, and have your own children and your children have children. Questions that only your mother can answer. Feelings that only your mother would understand.

You need your mother when you are struggling in a marriage, and you need that ever-present life-altering advice that will help you see the bigger picture. You need your mother when your son or daughter rebels or threatens to run away, and you don’t know what to do or how to help. You need your mother when your child gets sick, and you don’t know if it’s nothing to be overly concerned about or if you should head to the hospital. You need to feel her arms wrapped around you when your son joins the military, and you worry about his safety.

You need your mother there to share in your joy when your daughter gets married and has children of her own. You want her there to experience your happiness and celebrate those moments in life that make you smile. You want her to see herself in your children and grandchildren.

As you get older, you need your mother to comfort you when you are diagnosed with breast cancer and the future looks uncertain.  You need her when you lose a good friend to cancer or a relative to a devastating illness. You need her when your daughter is diagnosed with cancer and you feel so absolutely helpless yourself. You need your mother when your spouse is in the hospital fighting for his life and there’s nobody there who understands what you are feeling or knows how to make you feel better. 

I have needed my mother for over 30 years. I lost her when I was 32. She missed seeing my children grow up. She missed their birthdays, graduations, marriages and the birth of her great grandchildren. She missed everything in my children’s lives and in my life for the last 30 years. But more importantly, I missed her.

You need her when the whole world comes crashing in on you and you feel so overwhelmed you might explode. You need her arms to hold you and hug you and make you feel safe and comforted. Too many of us have suffered loss without those loving arms and gentle words of hope to make us feel better.

And it’s not just those life altering moments that you need your mother. You need her to call and tell her you ran into someone that knew her and loved her. You wish you could pick up the phone to just hear her voice. My mother died before smartphones and facetime and recordings were common. I don’t have a recording of her voice. I can’t remember what she sounded like. I barely remember her laugh which was infectious.

Lately, her absence haunts my dreams. I find myself looking for her as I sleep, hoping to see her or feel her again. It’s the only comfort I can hope for. Some look for signs—a butterfly, a bird, a ladybug to confirm their mother’s presence. I’ve never had that. Although I do believe God opens a door in heaven to allow them to see us and perhaps send someone to comfort us in either the form of another person or the Holy Spirit.

For now, I have to settle for my heavenly Father to comfort me when it hurts so much I can’t stop crying. Recently I was in the car driving home from a long day at the hospital feeling completely alone. I was crying out to God to give me rest and peace. He met me in that car and wrapped his arms around me and gave me the comfort I needed that night. It comforts me to know my mother was right beside Him hugging me and letting me know I was not alone.

 

The Silence of Friends

My opinion probably doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but I wanted to add my voice to the many other voices expressing concern and outrage over the brutal murder of George Floyd.

Yes. I watched the video. It made me sick. I've also watched other videos of police beating people of color senseless and it's upsetting and sickening. It's just not in me to treat another human being that way. I can't even fathom why someone would be that angry. But it happens. All the time. And my simple, God-fearing heart just can't comprehend why, except there is evil in this world and no matter how hard we fight, it seems we lose more battles than we win.

I have to put this into a perspective that I understand. My daughter from another mother married a black man. He is educated and works hard to support his family. He wants what we all want--a safe and loving world where he can raise his son. He's 6'5" and my grandsons call him Uncle Giant. I love him. I love him because he is kind and loving and gentle. I love him because he loves his wife and treats her with respect and compassion. I love him because he is one of the best fathers I know to my adorable adopted grandson. My grandsons don't even see his color. He's just Uncle Giant--the guy who carries them, lifts them on his shoulder, plays with them and loves on them.

I don't see color, but he does. He says people are afraid of him. He says they look at him as a threat without even knowing him. I can't even begin to understand how that feels. People hav "e judged me for my opinions and my views, but never the color of my skin. It breaks my heart that he is afraid for his son and his son's future. It breaks my heart that we even have to have this conversation, but we do.

God said we are all equal--in a perfect world that would be so. But this is not a perfect world. It is filled with evil and inequality. All I can do is be one voice. I can say it's time to stop hating and judging people who are different than you. I can speak up and say it's time to stop talking and take action. I'm not sure what needs to be done, but we need to try. We need to open our eyes and step up when we see abuse. We need to be the example and embrace everyone as equal. I may only be one, but just one voice added to another voice added to another voice can make a difference.

I pray that God opens the eyes of those who are blinded and help them to see that we all just want to be loved and accepted. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

All Hell Done Broke Lose Around Here

I was watching "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" the other night and as I heard one of the actors use this line, I thought it was quite fitting for what we are experiencing right now. It's tough for so many of us who are "staying at home" and even tougher for those who must continue to work and put themselves at risk so we are safe.

My emotions have gone from lack of concern to absolute fear to a calm acceptance. Even though I trust that God is in control of everything, the constant barrage of news and the flood of posts on social media make it hard to look past the fear to the faith. On top of that, we are all missing our loved ones due to the social distancing and stay-at-home orders.

I have a friend who received a cancer diagnosis during all of this and she's single and at home alone. I can't even imagine how overwhelmed and lonely she must feel. No hugs of concern. No contact with members of her family. Thank God for social media and all the virtual hugs of compassion and concern she is receiving. (If you're reading this Jeanine, I'm thinking about you).

I think it's the actual physical touching that I miss the most. I miss my daughter hugging me hello. I miss my grandson William sitting almost on top of me when we are watching television. I miss my grandsons hugging me when I leave. I miss hugs from friends and family who are staying home and doing their part to stay healthy and keep others healthy.

I find comfort looking back on the good times I have had with them. Those memories fill my heart with joy and remind me to cherish and treasure every single day. The past hugs and smiles will have to do for now. Soon...very soon...we will be making more memories and they will be sweeter because we know not to take those moments for granted.

Stay safe and healthy!

The Words I Never Wanted to Say

These are the words I never wanted to write. I’ve delayed saying them. I’ve avoided typing them. I’ve begged God for a miracle. And I’ve prayed they would never be true. 

My friend is dying.

We met in an unlikely place during an unlikely time. But it was an instant bond over our shared faith in God and our love of music. She has a heart of gold and a giving spirit that outshines anyone I have ever known. As I got to know her and we talked endlessly online, I knew we had to meet in person, even though we lived in separate countries miles and miles apart.

That week, those seven days, are treasured memories now. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t remember sharing a Tim Horton’s coffee together. Eating at the Red Top Restaurant. Walking at The Forks and having the best time people watching. Going to a supper club in a historic hotel listening to a piano man and his singer make some sweet jazz sounds. Meeting all of her friends that she loved so dearly and volunteered with weekly. Watching movies and videos of our favorite singer together. 

I could have made a million excuses not to make that trip. But as the time draws closer and I know I won’t hear her voice any more or be able to pray with her over the phone, I’m glad I didn’t use those excuses to stay home. Because that week, that one simple week, will keep me going for the rest of my life until I see her again in heaven. Her kindness, her support during some very scary times health wise, and her unconditional love were priceless. I will hold on to those memories when I feel sad, when she is gone, and when I want to pick up the phone and call her.

We had plans. We were going to meet in Toronto or New York one day. She always loved the big cities, as do I. I guess we will have to meet again in God’s heavenly city. That’s the thing about knowing God—goodbye is not forever when we have Jesus. It’s only a “see you later.”

See you later, Allayne. I love you and I treasure every single moment I had you in my life.

And friends are friends forever
If the Lord's the Lord of them.
And a friend will not say never
'Cause the welcome will not end.
Though it's hard to let you go
In the Father's hands I know
That a lifetime (and an eternity) are not too long
To live as friends.

The Disease That Keeps Taking

My heart is broken tonight. I've lost another friend to cancer.

This one was my spiritual daughter. We prayed together, cried together, and walked through some very difficult times in her life. And just when we thought the cancer had been defeated, it came back with a vengeance.

I don't know about you, but I'm sick of this disease taking my family and my friends. I'm sick of how every family has been touched in some way by its power to cut lives short. Even with all the new treatments and drugs, it still keeps cutting us down one by one.

When my father was my age, all he ever talked about were the friends who were sick or had died. At the time, I didn't understand why he would focus on this all the time. But I understand now. When it keeps smacking you in the face, it's hard not to dwell on it.

Rae was the kindest, sweetest, most soft spoken woman. Her desire was to serve God in spite of everything that had happened in her life. She raised two boys on her own, raised grandchildren, unexpectedly lost her spouse, and battled cancer.

I don't think I will ever understand the why or even the how of this disease. I do know that my daughter and I are two of the lucky ones. For whatever reason, we were able to dodge the bullet and live to tell about it. I also know that you never really stop thinking about it and wondering if it's silent for now and hiding to rear its ugly head at some point down the road. It is and always will be a part of you.

While she was on this earth, Rae blessed so many lives, mine included. Her children were blessed to have her as mom and so were her grandchildren. Words are never enough when something like this happens. Even the comfort we get from God often falls short during these times.

I am glad that I will see Rae again someday in heaven and that we will embrace one another like no time has even passed. I'm thankful that both of our bodies will be healed and there will be no more pain or suffering. But most of all, I am thankful that one day this horrible, evil disease will no longer destroy so many lives and families.

Rest in peace, sweet Rae. I was blessed to have known you.

A Soul I Will Forever Remember

I met Wendy online about seven years ago. We signed on to collaborate on a parent’s site for college-bound teens. I knew from the start that she was a remarkable woman. I met her in person in July of last year. She was even more remarkable then—fighting ovarian cancer and doing everything she could to stay positive amidst a very devastating prognosis.

We met at Penn Station in New York City. Her smile lit up the train station and I will never forget her red glasses that framed her face. She was a petite woman with a spirit that was larger than life. We had talked on the phone for years, shared medical histories, family joys, and had serious conversations about cancer and how it had touched both of our lives. Since she lived in New York and I lived in Texas, the chance of us meeting in person were slim. But God had a plan and as fate would have it, I was in New York over the summer and we arranged this day.

We walked for miles that day, even though she was weak from chemotherapy treatments and the toll it had taken on her body.  She wasn’t going to let any of that interfere with the day, however, and she never complained for a second. We walked the High Line, had lunch together at Chelsea Market dining on fresh lobster which was a real treat, and splurged on some cheesecake and brownies for desert. We laughed and talked about our lives and futures, and we ended with some somber conversations.

As the day was coming to an end, she invited me to join her and her husband, Mitch, for dinner in Little Italy. We walked about a mile enjoying the New York neighborhoods and talking about her daughter’s wedding which she was so looking forward to attending. During dinner, Mitch attended to her every need and you could tell how much he adored her. He hung on her every word and it was a joy to see the love that they had for one another.

After dinner, we walked to the subway taking pictures of the neighborhood streets along the way. Wendy loved the city and was fascinated with everything it had to offer. They both escorted me back to the train station, made sure I was on the right one, and waved goodbye, smiling.

It’s rare in this world that you meet someone like Wendy. She was kind, compassionate, focused, sincere and positive. She had a knack for words, moving me with her words that she willingly shared with her colleagues and parents, and had a great sense of humor. In the college prep world, she was a giant. Her book, giving a humorous parent perspective of college prep life, left me in stitches. She loved a good joke, telling them and hearing them. And in the last several years, she was a fearless, determined, committed advocate for ovarian cancer prevention and treatment.

I will remember Wendy for all these things, but most of all for her unconditional friendship and support. She left this world too soon, but she left it leaving me and so many others with the best of memories and the desire to be like her—a lover of life and a fighter to the very end.

“I thank my God upon every remembrance of you”. Philippians 1:3

If you want to honor Wendy's memory, join me in donating to ovarian cancer research so that others will not have to endure this horrible disease.

It's Not Solely About Gay Marriage

Since last Friday, I have been reading all the posts on Facebook coming through my feed and seeing the tweets on Twitter about the recent Supreme Court decision to sanction same sex marriage for all 50 states. It's a highly volatile issue and one I planned to keep quiet on. But I just can't do it any more. 

There’s a blurred line today between right and wrong. What used to be considered evil is no longer evil--it’s progressive, free-thinking, and open-minded. What people called good, representing moral values and beliefs, is now call judgmental, backward, closed minded and often racist. It’s acceptable to voice an opinion if it goes along with the mainstream of thought, and when you do voice an opposite opinion you are blasted for being filled with hate and prejudice. 

I've read Christians being bashed on Facebook and Twitter for disagreeing with the decision. I've heard of Christians writing and sending hateful posts and comments to those who agreed with the decision. I don't condone either side--both are wrong. 

What most people don't understand is that it's not solely about gay marriage. Yes, we believe that God created man and woman and that he ordained marriage to be between a man and a woman. That doesn't mean we don't love everyone equally as God does; but it does mean we will disagree when those decisions go against what we believe is God's guidebook for us--the Bible. But it's even deeper because we are concerned for our religious liberties. 

Why were Christians so upset on Friday? It was the straw that broke the camel's back. It was the final nail in the coffin of years of having our beliefs stepped on, ridiculed, and destroyed based on what is "politically correct" and what the court believes is the will of the people in this country. It's what corporations believe they must support in order to stay in business and when other companies vow to stand with their beliefs, like Chic-fil-a and Hobby Lobby, they are ridiculed and maligned. Bruce Jenner is proclaimed a hero and elevated to a place of worship when soldiers are fighting for our freedom every day and their valor goes unnoticed and unappreciated. The tide has turned against the Christian community in this country and Friday's decision made it supremely clear that our voice as a moral, God fearing people is no longer valuable. And an even greater problem, is that the moral fiber in this country has deteriorated so much that we fear our nation will no longer have God's hand of blessing on it as it has in the past.

In the past few decades Christianity has come under attack. First, prayer and the Bible were removed from schools in 1962. Then in 1973 came the Roe vs Wade decision legalizing abortion. Next, all public displays of religion were attacked--no 10 Commandments in or near government buildings and no manger scenes on public property. Our kids can't celebrate Christmas in school any more; instead they have "holiday" parties. Companies have been pressured to remove the word "Christmas" from all advertising and employees instructed to say "Happy Holidays" instead. The media has blasted companies like Chic-fil-a, Hobby Lobby and others for expressing their religious views and convictions. Other companies have been sued for refusing to make wedding cakes for gay couples. And these are just the tip of the iceberg. Everything we believe and hold dear is being challenged and whether you agree with us or not, freedom of religion gives us the right to express those concerns.

So please, don't call us judgmental or narrow minded or hateful. We wish no harm on any of the gay community. We love them. We will however, stand firm in our beliefs and believe the constitution gives us that right and freedom. We will continue to pray for our nation and its leaders. We do believe that a "nation is blessed whose God is the Lord". There will always be those who claim to be Christians but are filled with hatred. There will always be the extreme who condemn anyone to hell that disagrees with them. It is not our job as Christians to do that. God is the final judge. All we can do as believers in Christ is follow him and "love one another" and stand firm in our beliefs. The rest is entirely up to God.

If you disagree with me it doesn't mean I won't entertain your thoughts and comments. I will, however, not stand for vicious attacks or hateful speak toward me or my belief in Christ. Please feel free to comment and I will post it and respond. 

1. "Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."

Missing the Ta-Tas

It's breast cancer awareness month. Everywhere you look you see pink. At the mall. On Facebook. On the news. It's unavoidable. For those of us who are personally acquainted with the disease, it's a harsh reminder of how it's affected us personally.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all about promoting awareness. But it's painful on so many levels for those of us who have lost loved ones, been physically deformed by the cancer, and who will always live with the "threat" of recurrence.

It's been over 25 years since my mom died from metastic breast cancer. It's been over 14 years since I found my lump and had a lumpectomy, radiation and chemotherapy. It's been over 5 years since I learned I was a carrier of the BRCA gene. It's been over two years since my daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer and made the difficult decision to take preventative measures against recurrence. It's been a year since I lost my ta-tas. All the pink awareness in the world can't take away the pain of how this disease has touched every aspect of my life.

Lately, I've been missing the ta-tas. I never thought I would say that. I never thought I would miss those cumbersome appendages on my chest, that were always "too large' for everything. But I miss them. It's a grief process and since I made the decision (partly because of my heart issues) not to have reconstruction, it's a constant reminder every day when I look in the mirror that this disease has damaged and deformed not only my body, but my life.

I'm not really a "breast cancer survivor". I'm a wounded warrior with the physical and emotional scars of the battle. A fellow breast cancer victim and Facebook friend, Julie Goodale, put it quite simply (read her entire post):

Breast cancer is not a pink ribbon. It’s a disease. It’s a really sucky disease. There is no cure. Let me repeat that: there is no cure. This is not the “good” kind of cancer. Early detection does not mean that it can be cured. We are all forever at risk of recurrence. Over time, the risk does go down, but it never disappears. While there are some cancers that doctors consider “cured” if it hasn’t returned in 5 years, breast cancer is not one of those. Breast cancer can and does return – the original cancer – years later. Twelve years, 15, 27 years later.

Maybe it’s just that after 13 years, I’m tired of losing friends and acquaintances to breast cancer. I’m tired of hearing about how this is the “good” kind of cancer – I mean, if you have to get cancer…. I’m tired of hearing how it’s all behind me. I’m tired of welcoming more friends into this community. And I’m really tired of saying goodbye.

Yes. I miss the ta-tas. But it's so much more than that. I miss what life was like before cancer reared its ugly head in my life. I miss what I used to call "normal" and what my Mom said would never be again. So for those of you fellow wounded warriors out there, don't forget that even though it's "pink" month, the only real awareness is the one that comes from knowing that breast cancer kills, mames, and destroys lives. It's not about wearing a pink ribbon. Have a conversation with someone who has been through it--it's a sucky disease.

Getting old

Getting old sucks. At least part of the time. I remember listening to my Dad talk about all his ailments and wonder why he couldn't simply enjoy life. But now I know. It's difficult. The problem is my body is getting older but I feel young inside. There's a constant battle because I want to do the things I did at 25 but I'm not able to anymore. It's frustrating and often annoying.

But it's not that way for everyone. I remember my aunt who lived to be 96. She never seemed old or frustrated with her limitations. She embraced every day with a positive outlook. I wish I was more like her.

Don't get me wrong. There are days when I'm thankful for every day I'm still here, especially when I look into my grandkids eyes or I get to spend time with my kids. My Mom died when she was 55. I know she would have given anything to still be here enjoying her kids and grandkids. Thinking about that makes me feel ungrateful.

Aging is the hardest part of life. When you're young you can't wait to get older, graduate from high school, go to college, get married and have kids. Then your kids start having kids and you realize just how quickly the time passes. That means you should be grateful for every day; at least that's the proper response. But it's not always the easy one.

When I think back on my life, I feel like I've only begun to live. There are so many places I want to see--see Francisco, go back to Paris, visit Italy, hike part of the Appalachian Trail, There are so many milestones I want to be here for--E's and W's graduations, weddings and great grandchildren. It's looking forward that makes the here and now more bearable.

If you concentrate on the past, the ailments, and the struggles, you miss out on the joys of the here and now. That's the key to growing old--embrace the joy, look toward the future, and cherish the memories. There is no pain great enough to overcome those blessings in life.

“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Having a Mother's Heart

It's 11:14PM on a Friday night and I'm watching a live feed from a graduation in Hawaii. No, it's not one of my children. At least it's not one of my "blood" children. She's one of my adopted daughters. And yes, I have many.

During high school, my daughter's friends used to call me Mommy Shaffer. When she went to college they did the same. I have watched all these girls grow into women, some of them are mothers themselves. I've been to their weddings, sat by them in the hospital, and helped them welcome their own children into the world. Some have graduated from college, graduate school, and gotten a Ph.D. I couldn't be prouder of them.

You see, my heart is big enough to love all of them. I've watched them struggle. I've watched them go through horrible pain. I held them when they cried. And I've been able to share in some of their proudest moments--graduating from college.

Even though they might say that I've been a blessing in their lives, I am the one who has been blessed. It's like I had 20 more children and I've gotten to be a part of their lives, just as they have mine.

So tonight, while they are on the M's I'll finish this up by saying: Congratulations Cassie. Of all my adopted daughters you have grown the most. You have become a loving, kind, compassionate young woman, wife and mother. You've pushed yourself to overcome much adversity and accomplished more than I bet you even thought was possible.

And to all those other "daughters" of mine: Cara, Rose, Renee, Tamara, Candice, Rosa, Jen, and so many others that have come in and out of my life, I'm proud of all of you.

After losing a loved one. . . What's next?

He was . . . a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.

Isaiah 53: 3-4

 

In one of my favorite shows, "The West Wing", the President always said, "What's next?" Anytime he was finished with a discussion, he would spout that off and everyone knew it was time to move on. I hadn't heard anyone use those words in that context before I attended a funeral this week. It certainly made me think.

The young man's father was trying to make sense of the fact that he lost his son. I can't even begin to comprehend what that feels like. Although I know when I lost my mother I experienced some of the same emotions he talked about and some of the same questions. Over and over again, as he did, I asked God why. Why did she have to die? Why did my young kids have to lose a grandmother that they loved?

But, as he pointed out, we will never be able to understand why. And, unfortunately it's not for us to do so. All we can do, with conviction, is say, "What's next?" The conversation is over, there's nothing more to be said or interjected, so it's time to move on. It's hard to accept, but it's the only way to make sense of it all.

What's next? What does God want us to do with the life we are left with?

One thing is for sure, God knows how we feel. He is a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He knows. He understands. As much as we think the "why" would help, it's not going to bring our loved one back. All we can do is trust that God has a plan and he's with us through it all--a constant companion through the grief.

If you've recently lost someone and are struggling to understand why, take this father's advice and ask, "What's next?" Moving on may be the hardest and the best thing you ever do to work through the grief.

Bentley Tyler-Our Handsome Boy

Ten years ago Bentley came into our lives. He was playful and full of life. He loved burrowing under the covers and we fell head over heels in love with this handsome boy. Even though he was a dog, he acted like a small child, as most dachshunds take on human qualities.

Bentley was human in every respect. He pouted, got his feelings hurt, acted out and showed more love than many humans are capable of giving. He was my grandpuppy and I loved him. When I went to visit he was so excited because I always brought him a present. He would start sniffing my suitcases, looking for the surprise and would jump up and down when he found it. His favorite treat was scrambled eggs and when I came to visit, I made a point to fix them for him while I was there.

At Christmas I would give the grandpuppies 24 days of presents. They were just as excited as toddlers to get their daily gift. He loved his Christmas stocking as much as a child and Christmas morning was such fun as he always tried to help unwrap the presents and was always in the middle of the morning excitement.

We bring pets into our lives knowing that they won't be with us long. But when the day comes that they leave us, we feel the loss more deeply than we could have ever imagined. Bentley filled our hearts and lives with memories during the ten years he was with us. He bought joy into our lives and there will be a void in our hearts now that he is gone.

He was a gift from God and we were all blessed to have him with us, but it will take time to heal and replace the hurt with the memories. But for now, here's a tribute in pictures. 

Bentley Tyler Shaffer Spengler

2004-2014

Say goodbye to the "ta tas"

After much angst and indecision, I finally succumbed to all the medical advice—chop them off! Since I’m almost 60 you might say, “What does it matter at your age?”. And 6 months ago I would have agreed. But there’s some kind of weird emotion attached to those protrusions.

Mind you they have always been a bane to my existence. They interfered with clothing choices--making it impossible to find any shirts that fit and would also reach across the ta-tas. They have caused me an enormous amount of physical pain—causing back issues for years. They were an incredible cross to bear during puberty because I “blossomed” before my peers and of course, garnered the attention of the boys entering puberty.

Good riddance you might say. Adios. Sayonara. Adieu. But parting with these annoying mounds of tissue can only be described as sweet sorrow. On the one hand it’s nice to finally breathe deeply and know that I’ve removed the BRCA threat. On the other hand for about 45 years they have become a part of who I am. Jokes have been made, some by physicians (“the breasts are too large”—to map for radiation) and my family who all in fun made comments about how I can’t see my feet, how food drops on them and stops before reaching my lap, etc. etc. On the other hand, I used them to nurse my two babies. An experience I will always cherish.

A good friend of mine who is going through her own cancer battle reminds me that you have to take the negative and turn it into a positive, so here it goes:

10 reasons why I’m glad the ta-tas hit the medical waste bin:

1. I can finally see my feet
2. My shirts actually button for a change
3. My back should feel better
4. They can’t be cancer carriers any longer
5. I probably lost an automatic 10 pounds (could be more)
6. I don’t have to ever wear a bra again (unless I choose to) 
7.  I will no longer be the brunt of family jokes 
8.  I can go wardrobe shopping
9.  It’s easier for the cardiologist to hear my heart now
10. The breasts are no longer “too large”

So there you have it—farewell to the ta-tas. It was a relationship feathered with good times and bad times. And yet, they can no longer be the carriers of the dreaded big C. Adios. Adieu. Sayonara. I know I will miss them but I have to wonder why we all place such a high value on those blobs of fatty tissue. After all, I’m still the outspoken, opinionated crazy lady that laughed at the chemo nurse when she read me a list of side effects and asked me to sign on the dotted line. With or without my ta-tas.

There is family..and then there is family

I spent the last two days with people that I love. I wasn't born into this family but they are, in every sense of the word, my family too. I grew up with Polly, Jack, Nancy, Patsy and Joy. My family spent summers with them, took vacations with them, and hung out at their beautiful Houston home. My mother and Polly were like sisters and my dad and Jack were like brothers. Polly--soon to be 90 (sitting on the left), is a gift from heaven. Her girls grew up to be just like their mother. I had the privilege of sharing a portion of my adult life with Patsy and Nancy, both of them living where I was living at the time. They were and always will be the sisters I never had.

This is a large family--and they love each other. They take care of each other. They embrace others and bring them into their family. They have had struggles, heartaches, and even great loss, but they rally around each other, cry together, hug one another, and trust that God is always in control. This family shows all of us that, as Polly said to me last night, "you're rich if you have family and friends". Polly is a billionaire.

When my mother was diagnosed with cancer and having chemo treatments at MD Anderson, Polly was her nurse (and my rock). I remember sitting in her kitchen late one night while she was making me a pan-fried steak talking about my mother and telling her how scared I was that I might lose her. She grabbed me close and said, "honey, I know...I know." She didn't have to say any more than that. She just held me until the pain subsided. That's the kind of woman she is. When my mother died, Polly and Jack were right by her side and I would never have survived that first week without them.

Polly has outlived friends, the love of her life, Jack, and recently two of her daughters, Joy and Patsy. And still, she gives and gives to others. Her pain in the last year has been unfathomable, and she's hurt more than a parent should have to, but she glows with hope and resilience.

This morning I heard her clanging around in the kitchen and she was making one of the things she always cooked for me, biscuits and chocolate sauce. My kids still talk about them when she made them for them years ago. They are delicious. But as I said in my book, it wasn't the biscuits or the chocolate sauce that I loved so much. It was so much more. It was standing in the kitchen with her while she made them. It was seeing the joy on her face when I chowed down, enjoying every bite (and yes, I had four this morning). It was the love that she showed because she knew how much I loved them.

There aren't many women in this world with the class of Polly Pry, unless it's her daughter and granddaughters. They are all angels on earth, mothers, grandmothers and friends. I love this family and I thank God every single day that he brought them into my life.

God is still in the miracle business

Call me crazy, but I still believe in miracles. Why? Because God made me a believer again this year (and reminded me that he is still working in my life). Let's just say that me and my daughter are walking miracles. We both dodged some pretty amazing bullets this year and there is no other explanation except the fact that God worked some major miracles. Coincidence you might say--not a chance. He orchestrated every single event and raised up prayer warriors to stand in the gap on our behalf.

Psalms 66:16
Come and hear, all you who reverently and worshipfully fear God, and I will declare what He has done for me!

Here's how it all began--

About two years ago I found a lump in one of my breasts--again. I naturally freaked out and made an appointment at MD Anderson because I wasn't going to take any chances this time. I was expecting a new grandson and I had every intention of being a part of his life. The lump was merely calcified tissue caused by the previous radiation I received when I first found cancer years ago. But while I was there, I arranged to be tested for the BRCA cancer gene. My daughter had been urging me for quite some time to get tested upon the insistence of her doctor but I just kept putting it off.

To make a long story short, I did have the BRCA gene; my daughter was tested and did as well. That meant 6 month checkups and once a year MRI's of the breast tissue. My daughter was 30 and it never occurred to me that those tests would be anything but inconvenient and an uncomfortable necessity. But after her first MRI raising some concern about the tissue, her doctor ordered a biopsy and found a mass of pre-cancer cells in one of her breasts. It was nothing short of a miracle that they caught it early and that test saved her life.

That's not the only miracle that occurred this year. After being sick for a few months while I was in Dallas, I finally agreed to go to an urgent care facility, thinking I had walking pneumonia. The doctor immediately did an EKG because my pulse was over 200 and sent me to the emergency room. They soon discovered that a) I was in AFIB and b) I had pulmonary embolisms and a clot in my leg. The first night in the hospital, things went from bad to worse. The doctors urged my daughter to call family telling her that I was not going to survive the next 24 hours.

To make another long story short, I did. Each hour I got stronger and stronger and with each day in ICU my condition improved. That's not to say it was an easy road because complications related to the tactics they used to revive me extended my hospital stay to 22 days. But obviously God had plans that the doctors, still to this day, shake their heads in disbelief. And once again, God worked a miracle of healing.

There will always be skeptics that say the miracle of modern medicine saved both of our lives. I say that medicine is only the method God uses to work his miracles; and I will be forever grateful and humbled by his constant presence in both of our lives.

The Best Gift

The best gift that I ever got
Didn't really weigh a lot
It didn't have a ribbon 'round
And it sometimes made a terrible sound.
But best of all it seems to me
It wasn't neath the Christmas tree
And yet, I guess I'd have to say
That it made all the other presents twice as gay.
The best gift that I've ever known
I'd always wanted most to own
Yet in my dreams of sugar and spice
I never thought it could be so nice.
The best gift that I'd ever get
Was sometimes dry and sometimes wet
Was usually pink but oftentimes red
As it lay so innocently in its bed.
The best gift of the year to me
The one I hold most dear to me
A gift that simply drove me wild
Was a tiny new born child...

Happy 29th Birthday to my sweet baby girl
Who still, after all these years, makes me smile.
I love you to the moon and back again, to the stars and around again,
Mom

Saving Grace

Tonight was the last night of the Saving Grace series on TNT. I have to admit that when I first started watching this series I wondered where it was headed. Tonight's final episode ended in Grace's sacrifice of her own life. She gave her life to destroy an evil that was out to destroy others.

The intensity of this show is beyond words. During the course of this series we've seen what it means to be controlled by your pain, haunted by your past, and how it's impossible to make any of that go away without God. Perhaps some might say the show was not a good representation of who God is, but for me, Grace goes through some of the most in-depth soul searching any human could ever imagine.

What did this show mean to me? It showed me what it means to pour yourself into the lives of others, without concern for your own happiness. It showed me the meaning of true friendship and unconditional love. It showed me that you can't put God into a box and that each of us has our own spiritual journey to walk.

I'm going to miss having Grace in my life every week. And I'm going to miss the way the show challenged me to look at God through different eyes and see evil for it really is. Grace walked into her destiny once she knew the peace of God. That's a profound lesson that we all should learn.

R.I.P Grace,
Walden Fan

For those of us who have fought this disease

The falacy of the uninsured

Opinions. We all have them. And the debate over the uninsured in this country is no exception. Government subsidized healthcare seems to be the wish of all uninsured. But are they really uninsured? And when this bill is put into action, will it solve their problems?

There isn't anyone in this country that is truly uninsured. Every county hospital in the country is obliged to treat you when you walk in--insurance or not. Do you get the best healthcare? At times yes, at times no. But that's the case for those of us that have insurance.

Those of us that have insurance do so because we know that it's not a discrecanary item, it's a necessity. We give up things to have it. It's like food and housing. And I pay for other people's healthcare who can't afford it when I pay taxes. This includes people who need help and even people who are not citizens of this country. Most of the time, I'm willing to do my part.

But here's what bothers me: when people EXPECT to have health coverage without paying for it AND complain when they have to wait for an appointment. Or when they continue to have babies and can't afford to pay for them or their health coverage after they are born. Or when they participate in risky behavior, knowing full well that if something happens they don't have insurance to cover the accident. Or when people who don't chose to have insurance, run to the hospital every time they have a fever or a runny nose and expect to be treated.

It's all going to change with Obama care. Those who complained about being uninsured will be forced to pay for insurance. If not, they will be fined. Then we will see how much they like the new healthcare coverage. Personally, it won't affect me. I've paid for coverage for over 35 years. Have I used it? Three times: when I had both my children, and when I got cancer. But I was responsible to know that living without health insurance was an irresponsible act. Yes there were times I could not afford it. But I gave up something else so I could have it. There were times we weren't covered by a company plan. We found private insurance on our own. That's what responsible adults with children do.

Are there really millions of uninsured people in this country? No. I pay for them to have health coverage with my yearly income taxes. So while they complain about having to wait for an appointment for hours, or the fact that they can't find a clinic that will see them in a reasonable amount of time, I'll keep paying for them to have free healthcare because I'm a responsible citizen of this country and that's what we do.

But honestly, I don't have to like it.
Walden Fan