Each day I wake up and thank God that He has allowed me another day to get out of bed and make a difference. I really do try to set a good Christian example and I am always open to learning more so that I can help somebody find Jesus as their Savior. How could I live with myself if I didn’t? Jesus said for us to go out and teach all nations. As a disciple, my thanks continue throughout the day as I know I have been blessed to meet new people, use my opportunity to discuss salvation, and do this openly with no fear of repercussion.

One thing that I would like to emphasize to all Americans is that we were born in a country where we have freedom of religion, freedom from religion, and freedom to choose for ourselves which route we take. I cannot imagine the places where people are persecuted for their beliefs and can be imprisoned or put to death for believing in God. What a powerful statement their lives are that they face this and still proclaim that Jesus is our Lord.

What if you were in a line of people whom are taken away because you believe differently than those who are in control? Six million plus Jews experienced that less than one hundred years ago. Would you deny God?

If you were studying at a university and terrorists came in and took over the class, killing each person who claimed to be a Christian, would you stand in that line knowing that this is the end of your earthly life?

I am so thankful that I have the Bible to read, seven different versions on my phone, along with several hard cover versions that are filled with my markings and notes. The thankfulness I feel when I close my eyes in prayer knowing that God hears me. He forgives me of my sins. He sent His Son to die on the cross for me. How can I not be humbled and thankful?

This has been the craziest past year and a half. I think I last wrote when my husband was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis. That in itself has been life changing for us as a family, and I know it has redefined our roles and responsibilities. The hardest working man I have ever met still struggles to do the most he can every day. Some are productive and others are rest days, which are just as, or maybe more important, and definitely productive in a different sense. 

We have had to learn that Rome really wasn’t built in a day. The original timeframe on our remodeling project (our home) had to take a back seat to what could get done on a specific day. We hired help and it was a mixed bag. What really mattered through it all was that we were making our home the way we wanted it and were able to do most of it before the money and my husband’s capabilities ran out. Seeing him physically change hasn’t been as hard as seeing him emotionally change. It has been a lesson in defining and understanding what one is capable of on any given day. It has also been humbling for him to realize that although he is Superman in my eyes, there are days that Clark Kent is the only one here. I will take that. 

I know that God will not give us more than He knows we can handle, and I know it has never been said that it would be easy. Anything worth having is worth the effort. I also know that God didn’t put me and my husband together for us to have a short connection. Therefore, we continue to pray that he will continue to receive infusions that bring him back to a semblance of his old self for a few weeks or month at a time. 

Some days I wonder why this happened to him for this to appear at this stage in life, and on other days I don’t even think about it because there is nothing we can do but pray and have faith. We’ve read that some people live with MG for years and manage it quite well. We also know that he is just one crisis away from something potentially life threatening. 

This has been the strangest year of my life. There have been some good times and all too many sad, tragic, and bad times during 2022. I am so ready for next year to get here. We all thought 2020 was bad, but these past two years have risen to and met the challenge.

I am so blessed to have the family I do. My husband is the most thoughtful, loving, and caring man I could ever imagine. My kids are two amazing people and I am glad to call them my friends, too. There are so many many that I love and care about that I cannot list them all. 

I have always been a person who wanted to be in the housing industry. As a young girl, I used sit in the dirt and draw out towns, using little pebbles or gravel to line the sides of the streets and I would place pinecones as shrubs, pull some grass and tear it up to use in the yards. I would use my toy cars as part of my staging. But, my favorite part was drawing the houses. I would draw floor plans for each home. Eight or nine years old and I would draw floor plans.Crazy, right? 

By the time I was twelve to fourteen, I had advanced to writing stories about girls around my age. I never gave them to anyone to read, but I had a whole back story on each girl, including each home. In reality the stories mirrored Donna Parker and Trixie Belden books, just with my twists. The best part was that I would use graph paper to draw out the town they lived in. Yes, I used my babysitting money to buy that graph paper. I would draw out the floor plan of each character’s home with furniture in place. I dreamed of being an architect or a radio disc jockey, but didn’t think women could be either back then.

Fast forward a few years and I loved riding around and looking at empty homes that had rent signs or for sale signs in the yard. Most of the time I would drag my kids along with me. My daughter really loved it. We would look in the windows of the homes that had no window coverings, not as peeping toms, but to see the layout of the house. I really loved doing that. I would envision how I would remodel. I also made note of the type home it was. I know it is so cliche, but Craftman homes are my favorite.The workmanship in the old homes shows the builder really cared. They like a home, even if it is empty. In the new Craftsman style, It is like they are trying too hard, but missing the mark. 

I had different jobs when I got older, but I still wanted to do something in housing. I daydreamed about being a real estate agent. By thirty I had been hired as an assistant manager in a townhome complex. Within a year or so I became manager. It wasn’t long before I also managed two apartment complexes in addition to the townhomes. Over the years I managed HUD, Class A, and B properties. I learned so much doing this. I was able to layout flower bed designs, choose a complex name, oversee a complete property renovation, and learned a lot about the maintenance and repairs. I even earned my Management of Maintenance Supervisor certificate. 

Although I didn’t get to do it often, I loved showing townhomes and apartments. I always said I could sell ice to Eskimos. I figured if someone came in the office looking for a place to live, I could find the perfect one for that person. During this time. computers came out with software to design homes. I loved it. I used the it to make floor plans and do some interior designing. This was more fun than drawing them on graph paper. 

I have always felt that writing is the best release for tension, emotions, and thoughts when I couldn’t find another way to express myself. I feel the words dripping off my fingertips and a calm comes over me that is only surpassed by the feeling I get after speaking with God.

I don’t know what I will start blogging about, but I need to start back because I have so many thoughts and memories I want to pass on before I die. No, I don’t think I am dying, but we don’t have any idea when that will happen. It could have been a year ago, yesterday, or even tomorrow. There are no promises.

Three months ago on July 4th, 2022, my hubby and I went to watch fireworks with some friends. When I got home that evening I saw blood when I went to the restroom. I was not sure what was going on, but soon figured out where it was coming from. That couldn’t be happening because I had stopped all that back in 2010. But, it was.

I thought it might be some fluke, but it continued for days, going over a month when I passed out at church from lack of blood. We went to the emergency room and they did a lot of exams and both interior and exterior ultrasounds. The only thing that was ruled out was that I did not have fibroid tumors.

It took a while to get an appointment with a gynocologist. Even with that, it was going to be the first week of October. Then, after two months, I get a call from his office that he left the practice and I will have to find another doctor. Luckily, I was able to find one less that 20 miles from my home and got in the next week, the 21st of September. 

That doctor examined me and set me up for a D&C for the next week at the nearby hospital. His fee was going to be $350 cash. Okay, not excited over that, but it was doable. The next day the hospital called to set up the procedure and said because I was self pay, I would have to pay 30% before admittance and set up a payment plan for the rest. I asked what that amount would be and about fainted when I heard her say almost $6K and then there would be charges from others. 

That put a stop to everything but the prayers. I am praying that I do not have cancer, which is what the doctor led me to believe it most likely was. He said he just hoped it has not spread to other parts of my body if it is. He said that at my age, this is what it usually is. 

Myasthenia Gravis is a really big name, isn’t it? One of my former bosses’ wife has it and I had learned some about how it affects a person through the things he would come to work and talk about. Since I have known him, she has really gone downhill healthwise and I know it is hard on both of them.

December 16, 2021. Fred called me and told me that he was in the ER at St. Luke’s. He was not feeling well and left work, drove himself to the hospital and was already triaged before he called me. 

Long story short. He was given CTs, X-rays, MRIs, and just about every test a person can have to test for a stroke. But, it wasn’t a stroke. He had been having a hard time swallowing and he was choking on food here and there. He was admitted for the next eight days. It was determined that he had myasthenia gravis based on observation and testing. There was one test where if the score was 5 or higher it meant he did have MG. His score was 20. The began an infusion regimen and had a speech therapist come to visit, as his voice had begun to sound raspy and he slurred almost every word. A b would sound like an m and many other letters could not be distinguished when he spoke, so it was frustrating to him to have to repeat everything several times and have people still not understand what he was trying to say.

He got to come home on Christmas Eve. By this time he had undergone 4 rounds of IVGV and was able to eat a soft diet without choking very often. He was 200 pounds when he went in the hospital. 

Okay, back story- so we all know (if you've ever read my posts) that the last time I ran was back in 2007 when a bear was coming toward me and my grandson while in Tennessee in the Smoky Mountains. I ran for dear life, dragging my grandson behind me as fast as I could. The whole punchline of the event was that my almost 11 year old grandson, Mikey said, "Granny, I didn't know you could run."

Let's fast forward to this morning. Such a beautful day that we have the front door and door to the deck open, with just the screen doors closed. I was sitting at my desk working and out of the corner of my eye I saw what I thought was a cat on my deck. Now, I was wearing my computer glasses and that distance wasn't viewed clearly, so it took a moment to register that it was not a cat-- it was Piper, our chihuahua on the deck, heading toward the stairs. He had snuck out the screen door.Okay- side bar. Piper is NEVER outside without a leash on. NEVER. He thinks he is part rottweiller and part grizzly bear. Well, because he thinks he is ten feet tall and big dog proof, we can't let him out. He is the sweetest baby boy to people, but he just doesn't like dogs, cats, or squirrels. Therefore- leash. 

I jumped up and ran, almost crashing through the screen because I was running fast. (In my mind it was fast. I was scared for my dog, but in reality it probably looked like the 6 million dollar man in slow motion.) I started yelling for Piper to get back in the house. By the time I was at the top of the stairs he was out of sight. I ran down the stairs and looked around. He was nowhere in sight. All the while I am yelling like a crazy woman for Piper to get back in the house.I am a little hysterical by now because I am envisioning a hawk grabbing him and flying away, an alligator from the cove using him as an appetizer, or one of the strays that people drop off in our neighborhood laughing at him before he attacks poor Piper. 

I ran back up the stairs, into the house, and to the garage where Fred was piddling around. Yes, I was out of breath and my heart was pounding like a drummer playing Wipeout. As I was telling Fred what happened, he walked calmly out of the open garage to go find the baby boy. 

Feeling a stitch in my left side like I hadn't felt since junior high track in gym, doubled over in pain, I wheezed and limped on my bad knee back down the hallway toward the living room, holding on to the wall, thinking I was going to have a heart attack. (Okay- slight exaggeration, but my heart was still pounding pretty hard and my knee did start hurting after running.)Just as I am almost to the living room, I see Piper. Fred had stepped out of the garage and saw Piper standing in the yard, doing nothing. He called him, picked him up and brought him in. No hawks, alligators, or stray dogs had gotten him. 

I sat down this evening fully planning on writing a blog. The moment my fingers touched the keys all my thought processes completely shut down. I know it was going to be profound (or as profound as I ever get) and it was really good.