Dogwood Winter

Week Thirty-Six
About the time I married, my daddy bought unclaimed boxes from a storage company. Once a box was full of old pictures, letters, and embroidery, and he gave those to me. One very old sampler I framed has three rows of the alphabet, one unfinished, a row of numbers, and a few unfinished pictures around the sides, maybe trees or flowers. A few letters of the alphabet at the lower edge are possibly the learner’s name, but they’re not finished.
The sampler reads, "O I must remember that I am born to die for lifetime is not forever for beauty must decay and my poor body lie moldering in the clay." That’s so morbid. I dated this sampler at about 200 years old because at that time our alphabet had no "J." The sampler has only 25 alphabet letters. Some history books mention that "I" and "J" were interchangeable.
At my doctor appointment, I learned that my white cell count is up, and I will start chemo again in a few days. However, I will receive a smaller dosage. The doctors believe the first I received was too strong—that’s why they call this "experimental." Since my white cell count is up, we ate at a restaurant after the doctor appointment. I’m truly excited to be part of this. Perhaps they will discover a great cure. Perhaps they will discover my cure.
A friend shared how she handles troubles. In a notebook, she lists good things that happen throughout her day such as when drivers let her go in front of them, when a stranger smiles and says, "Hello," or when a rainbow appears.
When I list bad things in my cancer journey blog, I hope readers don't see only the negative. I tell about treatment side effects for any who are new to this storm of cancer. It’s easy to list what’s wrong, but I want to practice telling good things.
John and I drove to Franklin and Leepers Fork for our date day. We drove home through Natchez Trace south of Nashville. “Trace” means “visible evidence” such as a footprint left by the passage of persons or animals. The original Natchez Trace went from Nashville, Tennessee to Natchez, Mississippi. Used by settlers carrying goods down to the Mississippi River the area was untamed in the 1800s. Gradually the trace fell into disuse, but the trace remains visible in some areas with wagon ruts three feet deep.
Our date day was special because we met friendly people from other states, who told of their faith in God through their family struggles. They were God-appointed meetings, and we all left evidence, traces, of our meeting each other.
A technician from Westmoreland came to work on the sewing machines in Cathy’s shop. I told about my late aunt and uncle from that town, my uncle a stationmaster for the railroad there. Years ago when the town moved the old train depot, the technician’s family bought it and added a part of the depot onto their house. He now lives there. What a small world. I never imagined meeting someone who lives in part of that train station. John and I must go and see his house on a date day.
Our great granddaughter visited us, and she jumped into the leaves as we raked them. I recall how Daddy raked big piles of leaves and we jumped from our rope swing into them. At age six, she tries to fix all the family connections in her mind. I showed her an old picture of my sisters and me as children. She seemed amazed to know we were once little girls. After all, “Grandmas are antique little girls.”
The trees began to change into their autumn colors this week, and reminded me of cooler days and eating hot biscuits with butter. Grandma’s wooden biscuit board attached to a kitchen cupboard, over it a sliding flour sifter. I inherited just the biscuit board, but I sold it in our moving sale. During the cooler months, I’ll make biscuits, but I’ll miss that board where I rolled and cut out the biscuits. Grandma kept a "starter" of biscuits in the refrigerator. Each morning, she added a bit of the starter to flour, lard, and buttermilk to make breakfast biscuits. I hope whoever has the board treasures it and maybe their biscuits will turn out yummy like hers.
The skin on my fingers still has cracks, and now I’ve added stiff and aching knees to my list of woes—more side effects. Tomorrow I hope to get my delayed chemo treatment. I feel as if the tumors grow all the time. Of course, I don't know that. If I am going to do chemo treatments, let's get on with it.
I had my head shaved this week. Our grandson came by and was shocked to see me with no hair. I don't wear a wig around the house. I pray many sentence prayers throughout the day. I feel the privilege of living because God permits me to be alive. I want to hold on to each day, but they slip away so fast. The blessing I will focus on today: my dear husband, John, who loves me bald or with hair. He says with a twinkle in his eye, “I married two women."

Seven Dogwood Blossoms
• You do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes ( James 4:14).
• And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, . . . What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:28-29, 31).
• In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps (Proverbs 16:9).
• A cheerful look brings joy to the heart, and good news gives health to the bones (Proverbs 15:30).
• Hear my prayer, O Lord; listen to my cry for mercy (Psalm 86:6).
• I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples. For great is your love, reaching to the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies ( Psalm 57:9-10).
• But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid" (Matthew 14:27).