December 13, 2018 - What if...

It has been a remarkable lesson in listening to God’s timing. You may call it coincidence. But I simply can’t find anything at all in that. Random bodies happening on each other at elevators just because. How is any single thing in life served in that? But think of all the hope and meaning found and served in purposeful timing. What if for a single moment we took time to actually be in the very moment we were actually in. Headphones out, eyes open, walking forward with head up, listening for a single moment to what is going on around you for an opportunity to engage in something meaningful. What if you walked up to a counter with the sole purpose on engaging with the person on the other side of the 2 foot expanse? What if we did this every single day?

I first need to tell you that very recently I did the very opposite. Very soon after my grocery encounter with Lead Plastic Surgeon (see 2 posts ago) I went out for a full day of errands. My first stop was at a local home store where I was seeking out a specific gift. I came across a lady in the store whom I knew from my past, but I definitely couldn’t place. Admittedly, and maybe because of the recent surgeon encounter but more so because I couldn’t quite place her and I was skittish in that, I went about my shopping with no attempt to figure things out further. Mission accomplished, item purchased. Head to the car, and I drove to the big box store on my list several blocks away. Park my car, walk inside, grab a cart, and make my way to the household section where I find exactly what I need in what feels like record time. Mental high-five and I reached down to put it in my cart then I look up and there coming towards me pushing a cart full of poinsettias was the exact same Lady in the Christmas Red Jacket from the previous store. I literally startled in the moment, grabbed my cart and bolted in the other direction, then parked myself two aisles over for a moment thinking “Ok God. I know this is crazy that we would both be in the same store a SECOND time, but you and your timing are evident, however I simply can’t do the ‘hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?’ right now because I was still shaken up a little from the previous encounter.”  Even though it felt strange in acknowledging that openly and still walking away, I headed over to the checkout, loaded up my items, and off I went to THE grocery store for my final stop of the day. My entire drive over I was thinking to myself, stupid sally, but still knowing I just couldn’t do it today and I was also worked up going to the grocery store.

I parked my car and was feeling a little weary as I was heading back to the very place where my encounter with the surgeon had happened the week before, but I was on my A (ok, my B) game and I totally had this ready to head in/head out after grabbing just a few items needed for the week.  I was  walking up to the front of the store and past the glass windows when all of a sudden “knock, knock, knock”……I am think you have got to be kidding me!!! If I look up at that window and see my breast surgeon I am going to crawl back in my car and will live off of chips and fanta from the gas station the rest of my life. You have never seen someone so grateful to look up and see their next door neighbors and their smiling faces staring back. Hugs, catching up, hugs, and off I go in search of the few items I need, trying to be as quick as possible to get back home. Finally I am done with the super short list, and I’m off to grab my last item in the freezer section when I open the freezer door and am so embarrassed to have bumped the freezer door into the cart that has just pulled up next to me.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry….”

The exact same Christmas Red Jacket I had been running from at the 2 previous stores. “No problem at all” as she grabs the exact same sausage I just did and off she goes.

Now at that very moment I think to myself, “Ok, God, I get it.” 

And yet, I still grab my cart and turn and walk out the door. “Delayed obedience is still disobedience”, and in this case, “Disobedience is flat out Disobedience”.

I’ve been kicking myself ever since. I simply was in a funk that day and didn’t want the encounter, but I had been coming out of 3 very “in your face”, “Trust God’s Timing” moments, and I knew that I could put my faith in whatever and whomever he put in my path. Timing was very much on my radar, and I now had a 4^th encounter that I can’t even tell you what the outcome was to be, other than my disobedience. But as I had not yet put my 3^rd encounter to paper (screen), this 4^th encounter very much plays a role in just how much God is getting my attention in how timing is not haphazard. We can choose to see it His way, or we can choose to see it our way. It’s complete choice. But the ramification of choice are evident in many ways. 

There’s a boutique I like to go to every now and then and a few weeks ago I stopped in looking for a gift. It’s the holidays so I have been out shopping more so than usual. I stop in, find the perfect item, and head up to the counter, where a lovely lady stands helping the customer in front of me. They are chatting about this and that as they are ringing up the transaction. I notice the sales person has a lovely non-southern American accent (maybe Caribbean or Latin?) that I couldn’t quite place and a very hospitable personality with her guests. She has a flare for sales, but in a way that made you comfortable in your skin, and I’m quite positive that no matter what you purchase she’s going to leave you feeling fabulous. So immediately, you love her.  She’s confident in her craft and translates that back over the counter in a way that you find it seep its way back into you. So when the customer in front of me tidied up and I find myself in front of her, I find myself standing in front of her with a huge grin on my face.

Sales clerk: “Hello, welcome to Sequins (as we will call). Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Myself: “Yes, thank you.”

Sales clerk: “This color is going to look terrific on you with your hair color.”

I find that she is studying my face a little longer than usual as she is folding up the garment.

Sales clerk: “I’m sorry for staring. I think I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?”

Myself: “I don’t think so, but maybe…”

 (Immediately, I’m in tune because, well…this is not my first time to this rodeo) 

Sales clerk: “Do you happen to go to such and such?”

Myself: “No, I go to such and such.”

Myself: “No, Haven’t been there. I work at ___. Do you go there?”

Sales clerk: “No, how about?” (And once she said that I immediately knew.)

Myself: “No, but did you happen to know, Andy M.? He’s my brother.”

Her eyes got as wide as saucers, and I could tell the life was sucked out of her and she didn’t exactly know how to respond. It was as if she wanted to climb into the bag into which she was now placing the shirt I had just purchased and never come out again.

Sales Clerk: “Oh ma’am, I am so sorry. I didn’t know him very well, but I knew him enough to know that I am so sorry I brought all of this up and I guess I am recognizing you from all the pictures on social media from his story.”

She was terribly mortified she had brought this up, and I could tell immediately I had two choices here. I could feel the heartbreak I was feeling in that one moment of suddenly remembering my brother, or I could have this moment to have grace and mercy with this women who loosely knew my brother, was impacted by his story, is now mortified at recognizing me, and so very worried she has ruined my day.

Myself: “I could not be more delighted to meet you. I am Sally. I can’t tell you what it means to me to have this connection with you now (truth). Thank you for speaking up when you recognized me.”

And we finished up with our stuff, discussed a few more things, and I headed out to finish out my day.

As I climbed back in my car I sat for a few minutes staring at the windshield. This was the first time in 2 years I had come across someone in public who knew my brother, but didn’t also know me. I knew it would happen at some point. The awkward moment of “you know the story, I know the story, but we don’t know each other” I never knew how that would play out, but I knew it would have an impact on me and it did. And it would also bond us. It did. You know in a way that knowledge of a deep rooted story, trauma, loss, love, success, whatever. Those things bond you. But knowledge of those on great levels, can really bond you.

I now very much love walking into this store and seeing Rebecca. We are casual when we see each other. I don’t even know if she recalls me being “that story” or whatnot because I haven’t brought it back up (I’ve only seen her twice since and very briefly). But Rebecca on the other hand is grounded in my soul and a story in my healing. I don’t know if she listened to God’s prompting in saying “hey, I think I know you” but I do know it was God’s timing in placing us just so.

And I am acutely aware that there were 3 encounters with a very specific red jacket that I knowingly (and rather disobediently in my awareness) passed by last week. What if I was to be grounded in her soul? What if she needed healing? What if God simply needed me to obey? What if?

Take off the headphones. Look at your surroundings. Be purposeful in your listening and be present in your environment. We are not haphazard marbles bumping into each other by happenstance. We are God’s purposeful encounters waiting to unfold by him placing us exactly so and us choosing to play out what if. Who needs you to do your part? Who needs you to choose to be present? Who needs you to make yourself aware that you have a part in all of this? Simply ask yourself “What if” and just see all the possibilities of where that can go.






You can access previous posts HERE.

November 28, 2018 - And I hope to NEVER see any of you again!

I had scanned the 12+ training sessions trying to find one that was going to fit into my schedule, around meetings, on a day of the week I could get across campus and back in a time, that would sandwich into the rest of the day’s expectations. That one wouldn’t work because I had a meeting immediately after the end time that wouldn’t allow a quick enough return. And that one wouldn’t work because of the overlap with the other meeting. That one wouldn’t work because on the start time. GRRR! This was a horrible week to try to fit something in! Wednesday at noon was just going to have to work so I slapped it on my calendar and called it done. However, when Wednesday finally rolled around over a month later, I was slammed unexpectedly with a project deadline so I quickly went back to the scheduling system to see if I could reschedule. Yep, multiple classes later in the week still had vacancies, but the disclaimer at the bottom read “if you need to make modifications, please call 555-5555 for more information.” Pick up the phone…..”thank you for calling, blah, blah, blah, blah” Voicemail x 3. Ok, forget it, Sally, go to this class and come back afterwards and plan on staying late to work on the time sensitive project you are leaving on your desk.  I gathered my stuff together begrudgingly, swiftly walked across campus because I pushed my time too much, and headed into the building where I was instructed to get into a line according to last name. There, I was randomly handed a letter card instructing me which classroom to head to so that each class room would contain the same number of students and off I went.

As I was late, the room was practically full with only 3 seats left so I picked the one closest to the front, but on the far side of the room next to the wall as it felt more “out of the way” and incognito. Most of you don’t know this about me, but there is nothing I hate more than walking into a room of strangers (or even a room where I know every single person). I’m fine about 15 minutes after I get there, but the first 15 minutes leave me in turmoil as I internally feel like the small marshmallow trying to find my spot in the overcrowded hot cocoa cup. All I could think about was crossing the front of the room and getting to my chair since I could tell the class was about to start up.

The room was set up with about 10 rectangle tables, 4-6 people at each, so we were all facing each other at each table. I very quickly leaned down to place my bag under my chair and grab the book and paper out of it and then did a quick scan of the room to see if I could find a kindred spirit I knew, but as I knew I would at an institution this large, I knew no one….until the voice in the chair directly across the table from me said….

 “Hey, I think I know you from somewhere….”

I looked up and across the table expecting to see a former coworker who I somehow didn’t see in my initial scan but then I realized I recognize absolutely nothing. She was summer blond with her hair pulled back, and she sported a grin that covered her entire face. Equally as welcoming was the southern accent she spilled out of the grin. She was wearing the required nursing ensemble so I at least knew her occupation, but still, there was no recognition from what I was seeing at first glance.

“Ok, let’s see if we can figure this out” I said.

I asked a few questions: Where did you go to high school? College? Church? None of which shed any light on how she might have recognized me.

Then she, being smarter than I started with the more obvious of questions: Which department do you work for? What do you do? How long have you worked here? All of which I answered and that still shed no light.

Then, with the swiftness of a tsunami wave crashing over land, she says “Oh my goodness, I think I did your cardiac echo last Spring!!!!” Now at that moment the 3 other people sitting at the table turn and look at her like she has lost her mind (I later find our they are her colleagues), and I immediately get this rush of facial recognition, and holy moly you have got to be kidding me, and a little I want to fly out of the room and into a hole, all rolled into one. Without hesitation her colleague looks over and says “Jackie (as we will call her), you do like 12 echocardiograms a day and this was back in May, how in the world do you remember her?” Jackie and I just looked at each other and start laughing.

Now, I’m about to divulge to you one of my most humiliating moments. I might should have done it before now for the sake of full disclosure in the things that may take place when you are post radiation and post mastectomy/reconstruction (you need to be both for this all to unfold). But at the time, I just wanted it done with and writing has been a bit elusive for me for a bit since my brother’s death. But in light of Post #1 of the trilogy (See “Cheese, Anyone?” post from earlier this week) and God most certainly pointing out to me the role of “his timing” as this trilogy has all happened in about a 3 week time span, I am aware sometimes you put your humility aside when God is most apparently putting something on your plate. So I am putting my big girl pants on and putting some of this story out there for you.

Back in April and May, I realized it was time (well about 10 years past time) for me to start initiating some of my cardiology workup. When you had exposure to as much chest and abdomen radiation as I had, you are at higher risk for cardiac complications (valvular fibrosis, autonomic dysfunction, etc.). I had already started the pulmonary workup 2 years prior because of my pulmonary issues, but had neglected doing my full cardiac workup that was recommended for this time point post radiation. So I decided it was finally time to get going with it all. I scheduled an appointment with the oncologic cardiac guru, who in turn wanted to do a stress Echo and ultrasound. Now before you sit there and think to yourself “hey, I have had a stress echo”, well I am sure you have. And before you think to yourself “hey, I have had a stress cardiac ultrasound”, well I am sure you have. But have you combined the two and also been a mastectomy reconstruction patient? This is where the humility all comes to play. Sit back, grab your popcorn and cocoa, and let me help you picture this.

I arrive to the hospital for my appointment where I was scheduled for the 30 minute procedure. I go in, get registered and sit in the waiting room for only a few short minutes before the most delightful cardiac technician who was a summer blond with her hair pulled back, sporting a grin that covered her entire face, called out my name using a equally as welcoming southern accent that spilled out of the grin (Sound familiar to you?). We walk down a long hallway to a super dark private room that holds a very cold looking exam table, a high tech tread mill, an ultrasound machine, a blood pressure machine, and some extra gadgets I don’t recall now, and then “Jackie” very kindly asks me to disrobe from the waist up (what????) while she runs out to get something. Well since she asks me so nicely….Then Jackie is back in in no time flat and starts asking me a few (a whole heck of a lot) of questions about my medical history all while she attaches electrodes all over my chest. At the end of this, I am clothed from the waist down, Necked (naked) from the waist up, covered with sticky patches and cords everywhere which all lead back to an EKG machine next to me. I was allowed to put on a “gown” to maintain my dignity (but it has to stay open in the front; so I ask myself what’s the point) because Sally is about to run on a treadmill. Are you picturing this? Running on a treadmill, necked, covered in all this stuff, all while wearing a blood pressure cuff to monitor my blood pressure response to what is happening (oh, I can promise it is up because I am about to run Necked from the waist up, on a treadmill). In comes another Nurse, we will call “Heather” to take baseline vitals, which no doubt are all kinds of out of whack because Sally is about to do what? Run necked on a treadmill covered in cords.  (Sally switches to third person because that is the only way Sally can get through this story).

Ok, next comes the “trial ultrasound” before Sally gets on the treadmill to see what is baseline for the heart function. Well low and below, because Sally has implants, the ultrasound can’t see Sally’s heart because the implants are in the way creating a “blackout”. So Jackie calls out to get “Sylvia” as we will call her to place an IV line, so she can inject an “IV dye” which will highlight the heart silhouette better so everyone can maybe see Sally’s heart.

So there is Sally, And Jackie, And Sylvia, (and Heather? Where is Heather?) all gathered around the ultrasound machine trying to see Sally’s heart around her implants before Sally gets on the treadmill….necked. No luck. Still can’t see the heart.

“Hey Sally, I really hate to ask you this, but do you think you could hold up your implant a little bit so I could maybe put the probe under it?”  

“Well of course, Jackie, I can do that!” - at which put Sally busts out laughing because what else can Sally do and all of a sudden there is a tiny view of Sally’s heart on the screen.

“Sally, do that again!”

“Do what again?”

“Laugh”

“Laugh????”

“Yes, Laugh!”

So now Sally has to hold up her implant and laugh so that her implant it out of the way and her heart is pushed up against her chest wall (this happens during laughter) all after (and while?) running necked on a treadmill.

And THAT is what we do. Sally gets on the treadmill, and does her required stress test wearing a blood pressure cuff while necked from the waist up on the treadmill with 3 other people in the room. Flies back to the exam table at lightning speed. Sylvia injects IV contrast. Sally rolls over on her left side and lifts up her implant and laughs on command while Jackie places the probe in various positions, Sally continues to laugh on command, and Jackie continues to take heart pictures, and Sally is mortified all while envisioning sugar plums dancing in her head. But everyone makes the best of it, joking about the hilarity of it all, and become fast a furious friends despite the calamity.

(Are you starting to see maybe why Jackie remembered Sally out hundreds of patients 5 months later?)

Now let me say, you could not have asked for a better Jackie and Sylvia and Heather in all of this. They were professional, wonderful, incredible, and cut up with me because that is how I roll to get through this kind of stuff. Sometimes not only do you have to put you big pants on to write stuff down in a form of advocacy, sometime you have to put your big pants on just to get through it at all.

Finally, after what I’m remembering to be a 2 hour appointment, after what should have been 30 minutes, I gather my sanity about me, hug their necks, and say “I hope to NEVER see any of you again.”

And instead, what do I do? I sign up for a class of which there were like 12 time slots to choose from, and get assigned to a classroom of which there were like 6 I could have “randomly” been assigned to, and sit in a chair in which there were 50+ everyone else got to pick from, across from Jackie who told me to run necked on a treadmill, hold up my implant, and laugh.

I’m quickly learning that “hey, I think I know you from somewhere….” means God is about to do something only he can do in His timing. There isn’t a single moment in your day, particularly if another person is in your presence, where if you are a Christ follower, that God hasn’t purposely placed you there for that specific moment. There was so much that had to come together for me and Jackie to end up in those chairs together. I can’t tell you how many people take those classes over how many days in how many classrooms over how many times a year. And how many technicians could have been assigned to my Echo case on that given day? God knew exactly what he was doing. And he knew I needed both Jackie, and Sylvia (who also had a double mastectomy with reconstruction with the exact same breast surgeon “LPS” as we discovered in my Echo session – tell me that was a coincidence), and Heather for the care and humor they would bring in one of my worst of humiliating moments. I remember lying on that table thinking, what would this be like had I had anyone else in that room other than these wonderful gals who made the best of it with me?! I don’t know that meant I needed to run into them again in a public setting per se, but God knew exactly what he was doing in that as well for in that came a lesson in trust for me. Trust God and his timing. I’m having some cardiac stuff going on right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jackie and I meet again soon in her cardiac room. I didn’t know that when we were in the training course together, but now I know her name (I had forgotten it) and can ask for her if I need to. The reasons are numerous as to why God may have purposed our paths to meet. I’m trusting his timing and he is drilling that in to me right now. 

You do that too, for I am learning in doing that, He has incredible in store for you too.

(This above was the first story of my trilogy, although they are being told out of order. When this first encounter happened, it didn’t quite have my attention until after the second Boutique story which you soon will hear.)




To see the first post in this trilogy click here (Cheese, Anyone?)

November 25, 2018 - Cheese, anyone?

For those of you who started following me in 2012 because of double mastectomy content, you are wondering what in the world has happened. Well life happened, as life should. There is life after double mastectomy. Life is just as full and abundant, though marginally tweaked after prophylactic mastectomy as it was before. Houses still get sold, jobs still transition, travels still get taken, and what you thought was your most defining moment may still be, or it may have been replaced with something other. There is so much content that could be written about prophylactic mastectomy. I spent 6 years writing. Mainly because I spent 6 years in the ins and outs of its’ tightly wound snare. My last procedure was 2 years ago, October, when I had a “lump” removed, a lump which turned out to be a folded up piece of reconstruction sling, a lump which I now rather think of as a pebble since I know what it is and because it returned about 6 months ago. It’s been 2 years since I have seen my plastic surgeon (referred to as “Lead Plastic Surgeon (LPS)” for anonymity). Well, 2 years ago until today when he bear hugged me in the GROCERY STORE…..

Now, let’s get something straight. LPS and I have a unique surgical relationship. We work in the same institution and on occasion I run into LPS in the hallway or at the elevator, but we have always made it a point to feign ignorance given we are often with other people and it is not kind to call out “Hey, Sally, It's me, your boob surgeon” while Sally is in her work setting, or any setting for that matter. But it has been 2 years since a chance encounter given LPS relocated to another institution. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. High five in celebration now that I no longer needed his services and most certainly not his chance encounters! But aside from that, most women who have undergone prophylactic mastectomy and reconstruction have met with their surgeon a total of 3 or 4 times. Once before the surgery for consultation, the day of the procedure, and maybe 1 or 2 times again at follow-up appointments depending on the extent of their surgery. But I on the other hand, I would wager I have met with LPS upwards of 40 times (and that could easily be an underestimation) given we have had 7 surgeries together in a 6 year time span. He’s seen me through a good bit and suffered through a good bit as well. When we first met, he was your typical stereotypical standoffish surgeon. I will never forget our first encounter where I very quickly realized I was going to have pray and offer some “behavior modification” for his bedside manner. I quickly got to work as I have always had the thought process that if someone is going to be cutting on you, you want them to think of you as their best friend. So off I went to make that happen. Ron used to laugh at our interactions (or maybe cry in embarrassment on occasion), but when 1 surgery turns to 7, you find you have plenty of time to grow on each other. I can only imagine what countless ridiculous things he has heard me utter under anesthesia. I know there were multiple scary times for me that he was there seeing me through it. I recall one moment in the operating room when they were having a difficult time putting me under, and I was getting a little anxious. LPS reached out and grabbed my hand to calm my nerves. I could never have seen that happen with that first encounter. But this was now our surgeon. This is also the same surgeon who in the middle of a lumpectomy procedure to figure out what a new “lump” was in my breast, LPS, Ron and I kept bantering back plausible options (tracking device, junior mint, leftover popcorn from the previous surgery, etc) to pass the time. It’s all to say we’ve had plenty of time to bond and bond we have. But in the countless times I have seen LPS in the work setting at the elevator (collateral damage of working at the same place where you surgery), or in the countless surgical and office visits, I have never once run into him or anyone else for that matter in my home space. But there I was picking out the shredded cheese for the taco dinner and wham! A surprise approach hug from the peripheral side and LPS is staring at me 6 inches from my face with me fumbling cheese into my cart all while Ron is laughing, as I am sure he is trying to figure out just how wide my eyes can get. 

After I gathered my wits about me (ok, I never gathered my wits about me as you will see), I first had to know the following and it was the first thing I recall coming out of my mouth: “What in the world are you doing here? Do you live close by?” because if he did, I certainly had to move. Now delighted as I was to see him, I certainly didn’t want these chance encounters, me unprepared, to keep occurring. It was vital that I quickly calculated statistical analysis to see what was in my favor and what was not.

You need to understand this. There is something strange about running into people from your traumatic moments in “off” places at “off” times. I am certainly prepared to possibly see these people at the office water fountain or in the hallways reading over a patient chart. I prepare myself for these moments. I know to be on the lookout and to avert my glance when the target is encountered. These are moments you prep yourself for from the moment the boob is inserted. But I had gone a full 2 years with coast clear only to find him, the one person who has seen more of you than you want someone to see on so many occasions, in the dairy section of MY grocery store! Now as my family member said “I am sure he was so glad to see you”….he definitely was. He and Ron had a terrific time catching up (he knows us so well that he knows Ron as well as he knows me), but I was amazed at just how off guard this encounter caught me. After the 10 minutes of standing amongst all the dairy catching up, I realized just how much I was rambling about the most ridiculous of things. At one point, he reached into his wallet and pulled out his business card, at which point I gasped and said something like “what in the world do you think you are doing!” He laughed, as did Ron. But I did NOT want that business card and said there is no way you are ever seeing me again (did he not know 7 surgeries was 6 too many?).  More rambling about Sally cutting trees, and holiday plans, and his kids now grown up, and the now returned “pebble” he once removed and a lot more of Sally rambling about who knows what then tackle hugs again and a goodbye. And then, I stood there looking at Ron as if we had just entered outer space.

Ron and I somehow managed to finish out our grocery list with me rushing him along worried what other surgeon (I had 2 other viable options who I also on occasion run into at the office; though LPS had the longest track record with 7 surgeries compared to 1 and 2 for the others) I was going to run into in the time we had left in the freezer section. Then, I spent the entire car ride home wondering what in the world just happened. I was supposed to go to the OTHER grocery store. We had debated what TIME to go to the grocery store. Ron and I had divided up the grocery list and Ron went for napkins while I went for CHEESE. LPS doesn’t even LIVE anywhere near this grocery store. What in the world was I muttering the entire time we were talking?! Two years now feels like 2 weeks, and when is my next appointment with him?

WHAT IS GOING ON?!

In a spit of a moment everything can come flying back at you while you are picking out the best deal on shredded cheese. And because you know that everything had to line up for you to be at that grocery store, at that very moment, standing in that very spot for a person from your very significant past who has no business being in that very spot at that given time to be there too….well, you learn to trust God and his timing and his purpose. I have no idea why we were to run into LPS this week. I have no idea why I slipped back into a temporary traumatic state (trust me I did and was there for the rest of the day). I have no idea why things unfolded like they did. I have no idea why the one surgeon on the planet that everyone told me to avoid, became the best surgical thing that could happen for me in the end and was someone Ron and I now bear hug in a grocery store. But I do know this, I trust that God is purposing all of that, including this random cheese visit where I somehow made it home with FIVE packs of cheese, for a very specific reason.

Mastectomy is something I very I rarely think about it these days. But in a single second of a tackle hug over some shredded cheese I was right back in a moment. I don’t have to understand it, but I do have to trust it. God very purposely aligned my grocery list to have cheese #12 on the list and Napkins #11. I was not supposed to be at that grocery store at that time.  It most certainly didn’t happen by happenstance. I don’t know why we were supposed to meet, but I do know it dug some stuff up for a day, and I also know it was a great to see him. But maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe LPS needed to see us.

But this is what I want you to take away:

1) Trust God in his timing when the strange happens. There is purpose in it so let it unfold and see where it goes. You may not understanding it immediately or ever for that matter. You also need to understand it may have absolutely nothing to do with you.

2) Traumatic moments can resurface with no notice at all. Don’t let it surprise you and just process it as it comes. If you are a woman of mastectomy, even many years later something may occur that brings it all back. Just let the thoughts flow as they flow. It can be therapeutic. And eat the cheese you just bought to help with that. Wink.  

3) If the plastic surgeon tries to hand you their business card…..simply walk away.

While we are talking about God’s strange timing, a few weeks ago I walked into a training class of 70 strangers and sat down at a table of 6. The young lady directly across the table, who I would be partnered with for the next 3 hours, looks up at me and says, I know you from somewhere…..probably one of the most embarrassing moments of my post radiation life just found herself sitting at the table across from me. Trust me you will want to hear this story.

And last week, while paying for an item at the boutique, another young lady says I think I know you from somewhere. She did, but not in the way she thought, she knew the story of my brother.

You want to hear these related stories. Trust His timing. He has you exactly where he wants you when he wants you there. Carry your story with you and you just may be surprised everywhere it will go.

Cheese, anyone?

You can access previous posts HERE.

June 24, 2018 - The Change

I’m going through The Change. I’m hot, I’m flustered, I’m shifting from one emotion to the next without the advanced noticed as required by version 24 of McCollum Household Policy and Procedure. There are moments when a cold sweat would ensue, but that has abated itself, and instead I’m just aware of a “mental hot” when I think of its presence. I knew it was coming. You can only sit so long with both feet against the door frame holding it back, though believe me that mentally I’ve been trying, but somehow it has a way of finding you.  And there isn’t a single thing you can do. So here I sit. Hot, flustered, emotional. Navigating The Change.

But before you get all wide eyed, wondering why Sally is sitting here talking about THAT change, (but remember, I am the one who plastered your screen with lopsided Boob 1 and Boob 2.2 for the case of advocacy, maybe menopause deserves its own point of advocacy, so stay tuned a few years down the road) that’s not what I am referring to.  

We spend our whole lives, some of us, trying to keep everything exactly as is, because that is where we find our comfort, our “teddy bear and blankie” if I may. Though there are a few of you, who I completely don’t understand, who go around looking for it (The Change) in some constant rally of adventure and pursuit of ongoing unexplainable delight, but trust me, I’m not you. I’m me. And I avoid this ridiculous uprooting of all you know to be familiar, cozy, and warm at all cost. But somehow, despite a desperate attempt at avoidance, change has been sneaking up on me with its long decrepit hand inching its way across my peripheral vision until SPLAT….it has wrapped itself around my thick ankle and taken hold. 

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein

See, Mary said so, you change adventure chasers, you! What is wrong with you?! I certainly don’t mind a little shift in scenery here and there. I have been known to walk in my house and move a picture from this wall to that wall to switch things up a little bit on occasion. I’ve even switched out my mantel décor just this weekend to spoof things up a bit. But I am also the same person who in graduate residency had coworkers who velcroed everything to her desk simply so things would always be found exactly where they need to be. The joke was on them. I loved it!  I’m not afraid to say I like things just so. It keeps my mind high functioning and results in high output, mostly to your favor. So when I find myself in an unanticipated, particularly if not so delightful, Big Ole Bucket of the Change (BOBOC)….Well, it sets my world in a tilt-a-world, per se. 

It first started with us uprooting our house (ok it started with Mastectomy, and there is a whole blog covering that so I won’t bring it here) unexpectedly because God sometime does “the crazy” from human perspective and changes your plans. Well, home is home.  And it’s one place that for me sets orbit back to orbit when things go haywire. There is a reason it is called “home” after all. I didn’t understand leaving it, I simply understood I was supposed to leave it. And not only leave it, but leave it with nowhere yet to go, and no assurance of a timeline for it to be replaced. Yet when God calls you from something, He in the process is also calling you to something. And He knew, while I was hot, flustered, and emotionally stirred, that he was calling me to Home.

“…you start to love this house not so much for all the ways it is perfect in that for all the ways it is not. You become familiar with all its nooks and crannies. How to avoid that the key gets stuck in the lock if it is cold outside. Which floorboards have some give when you step on them, and exactly how to open the doors for them not to creak. That's it, all the little secrets that make it your home."  - Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove

Much like embracing a new home, such is embracing The Change. 

“Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.” – John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Barely a year later came Andy’s death. And to say that was change would be the understatement of the century. I’ve been through few experiences in life previous, that have influenced me greater, revealed myself deeper, or made me long for the day before more earnestly than that moment. That singular experience has catapulted me into a long-term suspension in a lava lamp of change. It’s not all bad, it’s not all good. It’s simply all meshed together into all something. We are a conglomeration of all of our previous experiences and they all mold us into this beautiful blob of being, but I am a constant believer in knowing that those experiences aren’t meant for our being but for that of knowing and experiencing God in a richer and deeper way so that others might also. John Green had it partly right. Grief did change me, but hopefully it revealed not only me, but Him in me. I know this to be true, there were days where I didn’t know up from down, and it was only by Christ in me that I was able to orient myself in the not stop flow of the lava lamp.

Nothing ever really felt “still” following Andy’s death. The lava bubbles continued to bobble in slow motion, pinging themselves off the glass wall, traveling up and back down again over and over in the thick gooey liquid. So when my parents, quickly followed by my sister, both decided it was time to sale their houses and move, The Change swooshed right in again full speed with it’s hot flashes and palpitations of unease. No one seemed to understand that this was the very moment that we needed the familiarity of familiarity (well, that Sally needed the familiarity of familiarity) and that change was everything I was trying to avoid. I so desperately needed life to stay exactly as it was, minus the removal of my brother as I needed that to revert back to the day before. 

“Change is hardest at the beginning, messiest in the middle and best at the end.” - Robin S. Sharma, The Leader Who Had No Title: A Modern Fable on Real Success in Business and in Life

But a few weeks after the decision was made, and the pieces all started falling into place (as they always do), what was so hard at the beginning, began to morph into this incredible awareness that maybe change while it may not be what you think you need, may in fact be exactly what someone else may need. And because you love them, you start to see things through the eyes of those around you and it becomes exactly what you need as well. 

People always say The Change is a sign of life starting the downhill slope. It’s as if life has come full circle. Other say The Change is an incredible start of a new beginning. I’ve learned in this life that with every situation, The Change is entirely what you want it to be. And it is entirely up to you what you do with and through it. Often it feels like we are in the washing machine of life with life happening all around and to us out of our control, with us being tossed and turned in it’s constant bombardment (I’ve spoken of that before here. March 23,2017), and I most certainly have felt the rivets of that here of late the past 10 years, ok maybe 40 years. But then there are those moments in life where we choose The Change, instead of change happening to us. 

“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be…I hope you have the courage to start all over again.” - Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Screenplay

For the past almost 20 years I have focused my career in one area, and in a few short days I am walking away from that. To say that is inducing all the signs and symptoms of The Change, “hot flashes, flustered moments, and unusual shifts in emotions”, would be an understatement.  

"It's not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What's hard, she said, is figuring out what you're willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about."  -Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way

But when you know something to be the right next steps, and when you know it’s time to choose balance, positive input, and emotional security, sometimes you do the crazy and you dive off the deep end. I’m taking what seemingly would be a career catapult downward from some’s perspective, and a career catapult upward from others, and yet a career net neutral from others. A career change can bring about perspectives. The Changes have shown me what my life is to be about, and sometimes you have to give up things in order to do life better. So therefore, from my perspective I’m saving it (my career) by giving it up which in some ways is saving myself and allowing me to do better what matters. 

So I’m starting over. The details of what I am doing don’t matter. It’s similar, yet different. Scary, yet exciting.  But I am leaving what I dearly love to do more of what I love. And I’m peaceful.

Maybe Andy leaving us so early got me thinking. Maybe circumstances bred new circumstances. Maybe seeing that there is life after loss, showed me that I can do anything. Maybe seeing that change is going to happen no matter how hard we fight it, showed me I can also proactively orchestrate change. I’m not a mountain mover. I’m not someone out there trying to change the world. I’m built for the small scale. But I am someone who desperately wants this life to be about something bigger than myself. I want to make your life more beautiful simply because you knew me, and therefore you get a glimpse of Him through me. 

"There is nothing more beautiful than someone who goes out of their way to make life beautiful for others."  - Mandy Hale, The Single Woman: Life, Love, and a Dash of Sass

I’m going through The Change. Maybe you are too. Or maybe you want to or need to. Life is too short and too dear to keep fighting our way through and in the gooey lava lamp. What do you need to change to make life more rich in the way He has planned for you? Where do you need to be open to change so that you can free yourself up more for the people around you? How do you need to embrace The Change already happening around you and to you so that You can see the God in a new light? 

It’s not what you do that matters, it’s how, why, and for whom you do it.  – Maybe it was me or Someone, somewhere

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”- God, Joshua 1:9

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April 19, 2018 - I’m so glad she and her story sat down

We were sitting across a narrow table from each other, just as we had been once a week for the previous 4 weeks. I barely knew her, but we had committed to gathering, her and a few other people, each week simply in casual purposefulness. For laughter mainly, but also to stretch our minds a bit. What captured me the most, the first time we met, was her ease as she came into the room. She brought with her relaxation and self-comfort.  And she brought “you are immediately going to like me”. I, in contrast, don’t exude relaxation. I, can at times, exude all-wound-up. Tightly-wound- up in fact. But not her, she sauntered to your picnic table and even before she sat the calm trickled across the splintered wood.  

I literally can count on two hands the things I know about her, all collected one by one over the 4 nights, barely 8 hours, we have been gathering, but you don’t have to have knowledge to know you have delight. However, I live in this state of awareness, ever since the perpetual waiting rooms of mastectomy, of realizing that people flow into and out of your lives for very specific purposes. God sends, I call them.

Today, hers started to unfold.

“Sally, I read something this week on your social media page…..”

I’d been on social media only once this week so I immediately recalled the post. She was speaking of my reference to my brother’s death.

I don't really know how exactly to explain this. Maybe if you've lost an older sibling it might make sense to you, but there is something strange about approaching, and soon to be passing, your brother in age. Is your older brother suddenly your younger brother? Of course not, but it's a strange phenomenon. I'm soon going to look older than my older brother. He will always look 44 in my mind. Me, the younger sister, well I'm going to surpass him. These are the things I'm thinking about today as tomorrow brings me another year closer. So grateful God continues to remind us of his mercy and grace when life and its turns don't always make sense.

I was also intrigued at the timing of that because she and I had only found each other on FB the day before I made that post.

“I, too, lost my older brother back when I was in college.”

I won’t speak more of that story because her story is not mine to tell, but I will say it was a tragic event and as she spoke, it was as if the 3 feet of table space between us became 2 inches and the moments  of the  4 longitudinal days of knowing each other magically morphed into 4 years.  Her eyes became deeper, her calm more familiar, her lines…as if I’d known them my whole life.

It’s remarkable, now in I’ve-experienced-it-awareness, how commonality in one singular impacting experience can create time and remove distance.

This is the 4th time this has happened. People that I have known for a long period of time (in this case a short period) where following my brother’s death I have found out that they, too, at some point had tragically lost a brother.  And there are countless others that had prematurely lost a brother from natural causes.

Four.  We both remarked it was the club you didn’t want to be in, but found comfort in finding other members.

We sat there for the next however many minutes, I completely lost all sense of time, place, and surroundings, discussing my past year and how I was still navigating the ins and outs of tragedy.  And she…well she sat and listened.

It’s never been lost on me the purposefulness of God, but after I got home I cocooned myself in the knowledge and grace of  His provision. Provision of how God aligns our life with people in circumstance.  He strategically placed 4 people (some before Andy’s death, some after) in my path with similar circumstance to swaddle me in the accolades of “you can do this, you are normal, you are not alone” because we did it before you and paved the path. And He strategically places me in the path of others who have walked this same path behind me to help breathe life back into their breathless lungs when they find themselves suddenly unable to inhale. But who in their moment thinks about that? The day Andy died I certainly wasn’t thinking “oh great, now I can help someone else through accidental shootings.” It came to me rather quickly, because of my history with life coming at you fast, but it took some time. But imagine if it did (come to you quickly). I’m getting more in tune with that, this finding myself in the moment realizing that event in the midst of chaos, no matter how tragic and disappointing, that God promises to do grace in and through you if we simply step on board. The key is staying on board before the moment even strikes. Aligning myself with his promises daily so that the promises continue to bleed out of me in the chaos. But most of all remembering that Life isn’t about me, my story is his, and life is all about the people he places in my life.

That’s why on occasion I spill my guts out to you on these very pages, but I can’t tell you how many times I have walked away from this screen unwritten because I didn’t have the uummmpph to tell “that story”. Back in 2012, I promised God, that if he was taking me to mastectomy, then I was going to take that story for his purposes. I tried to carried that through with Andy. And hopefully will continue with that in the whatever comes next. But more so than being public on these pages, it’s more important that I get down into the trenches, one-on-one, in people’s lives with these experiences. Anyone can write a blog post. But how many people will do life with you, even the tragic moments when everything gets rough, and actually do it well?  You all have your own story. But what are you doing with your story (I have to ask myself this every day)? And are you allowing God to align you in such a way that you too can say, "It’s remarkable, you won’t believe who I met at the picnic table…"

Be one of those people.  I’m so glad she and her story sat down.





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January 9, 2018 - I remember

I woke up this morning with a jolt. “In two days, Andy is going to die”. There was immediate absurdity in that statement for knowing I cannot foreshadow Andy’s death. He’s already dead. But that is where I am, reliving the week of Andy’s death. It’s interesting to me that as you come up on a 1 year anniversary, you start re-feeling and re-seeing the events of those days.  I can’t remember what I felt last week on a Wednesday morning. But I can tell you in minute details exactly what I thought and felt Wednesday a year ago. It’s as if an anniversary possesses gravity and orbit which pulls our body right back in to the moments leading up to, and the moments following, a significant life event. My mind is telling me that in two days I will once again be standing in my bathroom looking in the mirror trying to figure out how exactly I am going to get down the hallway, out the door, and into my car and drive. At that moment in time, I didn’t know if Andy had been murdered, or what had happened. I simply remembering thinking while looking at my reflection in that mirror having just hung up the phone, Andy was lying dead next to his car.

I remember driving to Andy’s house that morning, knowing I would be the first family member to arrive as my parents and sister lived out of town and my husband was away on business. As I turned the corner to his house I saw the street packed with cars as people had begun arriving to console the family. I remember how strange that felt, seeing all the cars and knowing the house would be flooded with people. As an introvert, I didn’t know how to walk in that door and see all the people, most of whom I didn’t know, on the other side. Having not yet been able to process the shock of the news delivered just an hour before, I knew this flood of people would bring out the emotions that had not yet surfaced. I don’t remember how I felt last Wednesday, but I can recall with great detail the feelings of that morning as I stared over the steering wheel at the front door of his house. 

I remember later that day walking outside and seeing my mom leaning forward on the side of a car. Hands over her face, shoulders pulled in to compact her body as tight as she could and sobs rolling out of her crushed spirit. I recall folding her back against my chest in silence knowing I was experiencing a moment that could carry no words. I can’t tell you how my mother stood during last interaction, but I can tell you every detail of this moment as she grieved her son.

I remember standing in the cul-de-sac with my father trying to make sense of all. The lines etched on his face deeper and more meaningful than I had noticed before. It was as if he and I had aged 20 years in appearance and wisdom in the 5 hours that had passed. I don’t remember the expression dad had on his face when I saw him a few weeks ago. But I recall in detailed memory the look on his face as we verbally grasped for any sense of how and what following the death of his son.

I remember standing around the kitchen island after putting food on my plate. I can feel the weight of its balance in one hand and texture of the cup in the other. I can see myself carrying it to the table and  then sitting while I pushed the contents around on the plate. Although, I can't recall the taste of the food because not a single morsel made it to my lips. I feel even now the pit in my stomach while wondering if I would ever eat again. 

I remember later that evening when my husband walked in the door. Having driven several hours to get back home after hearing the news, he bee-lined it straight from the door for me. I can vividly describe the details of that scene, the details of his clothing, and the look in his eyes. I don’t remember what he was wearing when he came in from work last night, but I can tell you as he came with arms wide open exactly what he wore.  

I remember two days later seeing Andy’s body for the first time. He was laying in the casket. Hands folded exactly so. His hair the exact shade of red I knew it to be. My first thought was “Where are his glasses? How is he going to see anything without his glasses?” I knew it was finally true that he had died, because he would have never sat there without his glasses. I don’t remember the feeling I had when I walked into a work meeting a few days ago, but I vividly pull to mind the details of surrounding that casket with family over in the far end of that room.

I remember walking down the aisle in the church and seeing the room flooded with so many familiar faces, almost a thousand people gathering in the love of Andy. I don’t know where anyone sat at Christmas dinner less than a month ago, but I recall the exact position of our entire family and that of many friends in the chairs of that room.

I remember walking up to Hank (as I call him here), the man who found Andy, in the lobby. I wanted to know who had experienced this moment with Andy and I wanted to pray for the impact this heroic moment would later have in Hank’s life. I had such concern for what trauma he may be experiencing in the days leading after.  There are moments when I can only recall the large aspects of my grandfather’s face, but I recall that of Hank's which I have only seen once.

I remember standing cold in the grass as people gathered around. I can now recall how amazed I was that people continued to show up. I don’t know who all was at my wedding, but I still know the faces of that crowd.

I remember the night before Andy’s death I was out to dinner with 3 of my friends, as my husband was out of town. I see us sitting with me telling them how run of the mill life had been that week and showing them pictures of my dining room, having finished painting it only 2 days before during the snow storm. My life had been so trivial, I recall, as one of the girls was discussing a significant life event in her workplace. I remember thinking how blessed I was in my job and having the feeling of “low key” in my life. I can’t remember sentences said in a conversation I had last week, but I remember this discussion almost 12 hours before Andy died.

Some people block out the memories around a traumatic event. I somehow have locked in my mind several, if not most, of the moments in time from that week. They are rich in texture and ripe with emotion that finds a way of flooding you in times of great loss. They have woven themselves into my daily activities, on occasion, but stand in the forefront now in the days leading up to “a year after”. Total recall. To be determined if it will be a blessing or a curse. But for now they give me comfort in reminding me of the love of relationship which surrounded us and which would ultimately softened the death of Andy. I’ve tidied up the “firsts” that come in the year following and I’ve somehow navigated the seconds, minutes, hours and days that come in the after, but the “I remember” of the details following his death forever (thus far) locks a piece of me in those moments. And it’s where I want a piece of me to always be. The sweetest of moments when Andy suddenly was more than just simply my brother.

I’ve faced the frailty of my own life having faced my own prospect of death with Lymphoma. But it wasn’t until experiencing the moments of losing Andy that I absorbed the “split second” landscape of life.  In two days, Andy will be gone. How would I do these next two days differently if I knew that going in? What would you choose differently for your next two days, so that in looking back later you will almost nostalgically find yourself saying “I remember…”. It is probably very different than what you currently have on your to-do list, and just maybe, now is the perfect time to rearrange.







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