9/11 Lest we Forget- my personal story

The anniversary of the day that changed America forever is now only a few days away.  I've promised myself that I wouldn't use my personal journey with abuse and breast cancer as a political bandstand, but with this momentous day right around the corner - I have to share my personal thoughts. They are uniquely mine, but ones I feel very compelled to share.  Last night, I went to see 2016:Obama's America - for the second time. It's a documentary that was four years in the making. And you will not find one fact in its content that is untrue. As Americans--regardless of what political party we align ourselves with, or our parents and grandparents aligned themselves with for generations--we owe it to ourselves, our children and our children's children to take two hours out of our life to see this insight into our president, his past and how it's affecting our present and our future.

On 9/11 my day started out as normal.  I had just tossed a load of wet laundry into the dryer when my mother called me at 9am to tell me to turn on the news. The panic in her normally calm and almost sedated  voice told me that I should brace myself for what I was about to see. Frantically retrieving the remote, I stood there transfixed, in disbelief as I watched a replay of a plane crashing into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.  This had to be some kind of tragic mistake--but it wasn't.  Then just minutes later, horrifyingly, I along with  the rest of America watched as yet another plane hit the second tower - the South tower. The details were very sketchy, but by now the FAA was starting to realize that these were commercial airline planes carrying hundreds of innocent people. And when it was reported that the plane to hit the South tower appeared to be United Airlines - my breath literally was caught in my throat. This couldn't be real. This had to be some kind of a sick joke. But it wasn't a sick joke--it was real--terrifyingly real.

A pit formed in my stomach. This was beyond horrific! How could this happen anywhere--especially in America? And what on earth WAS happening? Not only was I witnessing a national disaster, it was a personal one for our family.  My youngest daughter was a freshman in college and my oldest had just graduated from UT and was newly married. I could only wonder what they were hearing about the news and the anxiety and uncertainty that they too had to be experiencing. You see, my husband, and my girls father was and is a Captain for United Airlines.And he too was scheduled to fly out of Newark that fateful morning.  And just like the planes that were inexplicably flying right into the second World Trade Center--he flew the large jumbo 767 and 757's.  The Pentagon was next--and in a scene straight out of a horror movie, I watched as the flames rose from a building that was and still is the symbol of America's security.Then, as if it couldn't get any worse, the news of another United plane crashing in the fields of Shanksville, PA--where passengers had frantically called loved ones to say goodbye and to relate their heroic stories of hopefully taking over and landing the aircraft safely. 

Until you have personally experienced a horrific nightmare like this one--you can't possibly understand the emotions, the fear that grips your heart so tightly that you find it hard to even breath. I tried in vain to reach my husband.  But as we would soon discover, they had grounded all the planes across the entire country. What we didn't know and wouldn't find out until hours later was that they had  taken the pilots and crew to flight ops and they were unable to place any outgoing calls.  It wasn't until 7pm that evening that we were able to reach him and at that moment, relief washed over us like a warm ocean wave.  For ten hours we hadn't known if his plane was one of the planes that were involved in these sinister attacks on our country.  When we slowly started to realize what had actually happened -- it was hard to imagine that such hatred and evil could exist in the world today. But we were the lucky ones. Our loved one was not piloting any of the UAL planes that were hijacked by the eleven Muslim terrorists who hated our country so much that they were willing to take their own lives to destroy over 3,000 thousand innocent American lives. President Bush was so right when he told us that as a country we would quickly forget the terror that these eleven men in the name of Allah and Islam had inflicted on our country on that fall morning in September. I am appalled at how our current president has tried to downplay terrorism to the point that he described the gunning down of 11 American soldiers and 1 civilian in cold blood at Ft. Hood, Texas by Major Nadal Hasan as he shouted "Allah Akbar"--simply as workplace violence. How incredulous! It's been over two years and this cold-blooded terrorist- still hasn't been brought to justice and he's still receiving monthly pay from our government. This should totally outrage every single American!

Of course 9/11 wasn't the only act of terrorism against our country, but it was the largest and the only one to happen on our soil.  How can any of us forget the bombing of our marine barracks in Beirut, Lebanon and the bombing of the USS Cole carried out by this same anti-American, anti-Christian and anti-Zionist terrorists?

As Americans we need to wake up and remember the atrocities committed by these people who have since 9/11 quietly and steadily been invading our country. We need to stop pandering to these terrorists and halt the 'fear of racial profiling dance' we've been participating in now since 9/11.  We need to protect our borders and stop the flow of terrorists that are slipping into this country because our administration wants to be accepting of all illegals for political gain regardless of the price this country will pay with it's very soul.

So, on 9/11 if God puts it in your heart to do something to show your support for this country and to help honor those fallen--both on 9/11 and our heroes in the military who have put their lives on the line every day for you--those men and women who fight for an America they believe in--then go see 2016:Obama's America  and rent United 93.  And then, at the end of the day--pray.  Pray for all the families that lost loved ones on 9/11...fathers, mothers, daughters, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles and friends.  Pray for our men and women in uniform who believe in this country and their families. And pray for America. Pray that she finds her way back to the values and Christian principles that have served to make her the greatest country on the face of the earth.  We, as Americans, accept everyone with open arms. All that we ask is that you not come to our country with the intention of destroying it and stripping it of everything good that it stands for. And pray for wisdom--that when you walk into that polling booth in November that you will be voting for the heart and soul of America  and for her very survival--not for some generational political party persuasion. 

GOD BLESS YOU ALL AND GOD BLESS AMERICA!

The world needs your flame...

On BeliefNet today there was a beautiful video I would like to share with everyone.  So, when you get a chance today, when the house is quiet and you have a few precious minutes of 'me' time (and we're only talking about five minutes here ladies), kick off those shoes, settle into your favorite chair, and watch this video.  I promise it is worth it.

Click on this link:
http://bcove.me/1vtaidjl

Happy Friday Everyone!

Blessings to you all,

Let your voice be heard!

Please, please, please share your story, comment and let others know they're not alone.  We know we have a huge audience from all over the world, but our readers need to know that they are not the only ones who find themselves in this struggle.  We are a sisterhood of mom's, daughters, girlfriends, cousins, neighbors and friends and we all have a voice.  By sharing your journey, you are helping others to know that there is someone out there who understands what they are going through. If you're having trouble commenting, please give us a shout out!  We are not the world's most brilliant or experienced bloggers, but we really want to hear from you.  Everyone has something to offer.  So let your voice be heard.  Together we can make a difference in each other's lives. 

David and His Slingshot - single and not quite lovin' it!

1st Samuel 17:1-58

We've all heard the story in the Bible of David and how he defeated the giant, Goliath, with his 5 shiny stones and one trusty slingshot.  It's a story of  undefinable courage and bravery.  We all face giants in our life.  But come on now, if we're really honest we don't want to face any giants at all...we'd much rather run from them, hide, or better yet just pretend they don't even exist. Remember those pesky monsters when you were a child that you swore up and down were hiding under your bed, just waiting for you to close as much as one eye, and they would devour you and your entire family for that matter, in one swift gulp.   You'd trudge half-asleep, blankie trailing behind you into the living room, where mom would swiftly make a beeline for the kitchen, whipping out the trusty old 'monster spray' magic formula, guaranteed to take care of all monsters big and small.  But what happens when that little girl is all grown up and those pesky monsters don't disappear that easily? You're going to have to face your giants. So, let's all put on our big girl panties and start searching for that sling shot.

Maybe you are single, never married, newly divorced, or just broken up with someone and you can't imagine facing your giant alone. This is beyond not fair!  But just remember David and how that young man had tremendous faith in the Lord and because of that was not afraid to go to battle. He knew He had the Lord on his side--he knew he would be victorius. You too can be a giant killer...no matter what the size of your giant--you have to know that it can and will be defeated. The truth is we can be surrounded by people, have a  huge family, or an army by our side, but in the end, it's ultimately up to us to defeat the giant. It's our faith that will kill that giant. Of course, everyone wants to have that special someone helping us, encouraging us, someone who has our backs, but sometimes that just not our reality.  And that's okay!  If you are facing your giant alone--there is a reason and purpose for this.  In fact, there may be more than one reason.  I had a very close friend who was diagnosed with cancer about 2 years after me.  She had been married for about 15 years and I thought this man would be a source of strength and comfort to her, but he wasn't.  I was surprised at how negative he was with her and unsupportive.  It would have been better for her, if she'd been alone. You see it's better to be alone, than to have someone who's not really there for you.  Someone who doesn't help lift you up and encourage you. Another reason that you might be alone is  because God knows you can do it alone.  And what an awesome testimony you will have when all this is behind you. Not to mention that you know now that if you can slay this giant all by yourself, then heck there won't be anything you can't face after this.

So, hey, alone isn't such a bad thing after all.  In fact, it can be a pretty good thing. You can talk to yourself, talk to God, sing and dance to that favorite tune...stay up all night watching funny movies...and no one will be complaining. Throw some cookie dough in the over at 3am when the munchies grab hold you and you don't have to explain your moment of 'insanity' to anyone.But wait a minute...you are never REALLY alone ...remember? And just maybe that's the whole point he's trying to make with you.  He wants you to lean on Him, trust in Him and talk to Him. He is there for you.

So, girlfriend, sharpen up that sword or dust off that slingshot you've been hiding for a rainy day...you've got a giant or two to slay!!

Houston, we have a problem

We have had quite a few people decide to contact us directly via email because they had a hard time figuring out how to comment on our posts (and we're talking about pro-blogger folks--folks who have their own blogs and regularly comment on others)!  I'm not talking about other people like me :)  This told me, "Houston, we have a problem."  Well, of course after I emailed our blog designer who I am sure at this point loves me and my million and one questions about as much as I love coconut, I found the answer I was looking for all by myself.  Two pats on the back for me.  So, cross your fingers and toes because I think I fixed it.  Key word think.  Hip hip hooray!  Quite a feat for this socially-networked challenged blogger.  Bear with us everyone while we work out the kinks and get this blog up and running. If any of you have any trouble with any of our features on the blog PLEASE let us know.  Because more than likely it's probably because one of us screwed something up and we don't even know it yet--LOL.  Thanks for hanging in there with us!  We're so glad you're here.

UPDATE--Pride goeth before a fall.  After all that patting myself on the back fluff, I just now realized that I haven't fixed the problem after all.  So, guess I'm not as smart as I thought I was :)  In the meantime, if you would like to comment, you may still do so by clicking on the 'no comments' or '1 comment', '2 comments', you get the picture, below our posts.  Hopefully a 'post a comment' box will be coming soon.

Blessings,
Casey

God really does want to heal you!

Okay, so here's the deal.  I want you to know that God is on your side. I realize I've said this before, but I can't say it enough!  He is your ally - your greatest ally and He wants to heal you!  I know, I know, when we are first told that we have cancer - our first thought is why me? Why me, God?  I know I haven't been perfect - far from it - but hey, there are so many truly bad people out there, so why did this have to happen to me.  Well, remember this if you don't remember anything else on this blog. As long as you waste time blaming God, you are delaying your journey to wholeness.  There is a devil out there and yes, he doesn't want you well. The Bible tells us in John 10:10: The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that you may have life and have it more abundantly.  It's very important that you know and believe this verse with all your heart and soul.  Read this every day until it's a part of who you are.  God is on your team...on your side. So, now that you  know who your true enemy is - confront him.  Confront the devil and command him to leave your body NOW, in the name of Jesus.  Tell him that he can't steal something from you (your health) that he never had in the first place! You were created in the image and likeness of God. That means that you were created to be perfectly whole and healthy.  And you refuse to let the enemy destroy or take that from you. I used to walk around my house, stomping on the devil...because he is under my feet, and that was where I was determined to have him stay.

Things happen in this world...bad, horrible things,  and so many times we blame God, when He is the one waiting for us to call on Him so that He can help us. You see, the Lord is a gentleman and has given us free will and He is not going to impose His will on us. That is unless and until we ask. 

I will try and post more tomorrow, but I felt very strongly about getting this post out there today. I hope everyone had a great Labor Day weekend.  Health and healing to you all!!!

Kathy

The Mother of all Meltdowns

My daughter, Kayla's, meltdown at same age.

I am supposed to write about the BRAC test, the pros and cons, and my thoughts.  That has been my homework over the past week and I am on it, just not quite finished with it.  So, I thought I'd share something else with our readers in the meantime.  And while I might be going slightly off topic here, I thought some of you might be able to relate and even commiserate in my experience with me. I know from our emails and responses that a lot of our readers are survivors with young children, so just maybe you might appreciate today's post and even hopefully share a few chuckles.

So this past Friday, I dealt with an event I honestly hadn't dealt with in almost a year-and-a-half--a meltdown from my three (and a-half) year old son. And we're not talking about just any meltdown--we're talking about an apocalyptic size meltdown.  The swinging, screaming, flailing, 'oh-my-goodness I think that child is possessed' kind of meltdown.  Don't get me wrong, we are no strangers to meltdowns.  Thankfully, they have become fewer and far between as the 'terrible two's' drift further and further into the sunset.  Just not like this. 

And where did it happen?  In the sanctity of our home surrounded by four insulated walls and at least twenty feet of 'thank God we have space between our neighbors' privacy?  Oh no.  That would have been too easy.  That would have barely broken a sweat.  That would have ended as swiftly as it began with a stern, 'we don't behave that way--go to your room until you can calm yourself down' approach.  Oh meltdowns at home how I love thee!  Did it happen in the car when Icould react with the stealthiness of supermom and say, 'if you continue behaving this way I am going to turn the car around right now mister and we are not going to the park?"  Nope.  Of course not.  That would have been too easy too. 

Rather, it happened at approximately 2:45 pm on Friday afternoon.  I had just picked up my son from mother's day out and we were walking out to the car.  I could tell he was still in that twilight "half-awake half-asleep--I was woken up from my nap about an hour too early" state and had already vowed to go straight home after picking up my daughter and give him another little cat-nap before dinner.  But, we didn't even make it to the car.  About ten steps from the front doors of the church where we attend, the meltdown of meltdowns began with a simple "no you cannot climb on the rocks" reprimand.  Suddenly it was chicken little the sky is falling.  And of course, at the same time that my son is raging through this meltdown of meltdowns, about twenty moms are walking out hand in hand with their little Suzie-q's and Sammy sunshine's.  To make matters worse this was our second day at this mother's day out program.  Of course, he had never done this at the others mother's day out program that we just spent two years at, where I knew other moms and they knew me.  Knew that my child was normally a sweet, well-behaved three-year-old (I use the word usually in a loose term here, because like I said, we have had our share of moments where I would just like to sprinkle myself with some invisible dust and magically disappear).  Nothing quite like motherhood to help you swallow that huge piece of humble pie.

I decide to move him off to the side so we are not blocking the only pathway to the parking lot and start trying to reason with him, trying to strike the balance of not letting him get his way, without creating a scene straight out of the exorcist.  It doesn't work.  Now, to paint the entire picture for you, you must envision me precariously juggling with one hand an extra cushiony nap mat (you know the blue and green kind that fold up like a fan and are approximately 3 inches thick but a more than a foot thick when folded up), his backpack, a folder they insist on me taking home each and every day that does not fit into said backpack and a small doggy pillow; while the other hand is holding on to my son for dear life while he flails like a wild animal trying to escape a predator and make a beeline straight for the busy parking lot.  This continues for fifteen LONG minutes in the 102 degree hot Texas August afternoon sun among thirty or so other moms who I swear could be nominated for mother of the year. I don't look at them.  I don't look at anyone except my son who I am trying desperately to calm down and regain some shred of control over not to mention a minuscule amount of dignity.  I finally decide 'to hell' with it, clamp onto his small little hand and bolt for the car.  We finally make it, where he continues to flail and scream as I try to buckle him in.  At this point, the parking lot has mostly cleared out.  Thank heaven! 

For the next two minutes I just sit in my car with my head on the steering wheel relishing in the cool blast of the A/C while the sweat pores down my back and I cry.  I cry because I am embarrassed.  I cry because I feel like a terrible mom.  I cry because I worry what kind of child I am raising.  I cry because at the moment I have the irrational feeling that every other mother in the universe is a better mother than I am. 

Eventually I put the car in drive, wipe away my tears, brush back the stray hairs that have clung to my cheeks and head in the direction of my daughter's school.  My son falls asleep on the way, I fall asleep when we get back home.  We survived.  That night after my son got out of his bath and we were putting on his pajamas, he touched my face with that same little hand that five hours earlier was swinging at everything in sight, and said "I love you, Mommy." To which I of course smiled, wrapped him in my arms and said, "I love you too, Tyler."

I have decided to share this with you because my mom has often said that when she looks back on the early years of her battle with breast cancer, she can see things much clearer now.  Of course, that's the tricky part of life. Hindsight is always 20/20. At the time she tried to hang on to every second, every birthday, every holiday - not knowing if that was going to be  her last one with us. She tried to hold on to the good times. But the tough times were never far away. Those tough days, the days she thought might just be the death of her - literally- were just as much an integral part of  her survival as were the warm, fuzzy days. Now, with more relaxed eyes and with a lot  more distance from those 'yesteryears' , she says that it was probably because of those  those tough days that she was able to survive it all. They were the distraction she never knew she  really needed.  Something to shift her focus away from the all-consuming 'I have breast cancer' thought. The  'I am a mother, a daughter, a wife, a sister, a friend' thoughts sneakily crept in and took precedence and without her even realizing it those distractions were a necessary part of her climb to the top of the mountain.  My mom told me once, that she was so much more than cancer ever could be. Now I understand - in part anyway what she meant. Don't focus on the cancer.  Live your life to the fullest - and make sure you have plenty of distractions along the way. Oh yeah, and if you have kids, congratulations, look no further, you have found your distractions.  Arguing over what she can wear to school in the morning and practicing piano, homework in the afternoon, driving to and from swimming, gymnastics, softball, football, getting dinner on the table, bath time, story time, sticky hugs, gummy-faced smiles, and yes, even those tantrums.  They are all a part of you.  And at the end of the day, when you are writing in your journal you can give thanks for each and every one.