Rejoice because thorns have roses

It's all in the way you choose to look at things.

I'm 49+ years old and had my first mammogram November 25, 2011.

I had my second mammogram a week later followed by an ultrasound.

Thanks to the "thorns" on the medical rose, I have been diagnosed and will have surgery January 6th, 2012 to remove what they have found.

Where does this all lead?

No clue, but I have already chosen what comes next.

I'm going to live.

A thorn in the flesh is just a minor consideration when you know the beauty and fragrance of the rose that accompanies the tiny prick in the flesh that the thorn may or may not give you.

But often, we spend our mortal lives living in fear of what might be instead of opening up the doors of our heart to receive what is already there on the doorstep that can be life-altering for good.

I love roses.

They have infinite beauty within each delicately scented petal. It's almost as if you can see the carefully left behind thumbprint of the Master upon each one as you look upon the wonder of the singular creation of each blossom.

God doesn't make mistakes.

Whatever journey this all takes from lump to life is not a mistake at all. It's a learning curve.

I've always like to learn new things.

Even when the learning curve has been bumpy or painful, I am thankful because there is always a reason that any particular classroom has been opened up to my use. God wants me to know something new about His love and care for me as his daughter. I just have to be willing to put in my time and faith to receive the lesson He has so skillfully prepared for me to receive.

Sometimes, like pruning back a bush that is overgrown and tangled, the process of becoming more tomorrow than I am today really and truly hurts. I don't like to be so severely "trimmed", but there of necessity must be times where the Master Gardener sees the beauty within which can only be found through the refining process of removing that which is no longer needed for this part of the lesson.

Gardens are an apt metaphor for our lives. We all want to be that idyllic setting where the love of the Lord is in evident bloom in our lives. Yet we forget all to soon that the process of becoming a thing of beauty in His hands requires the care and keeping of one who knows that the weeds and distractions must be plucked from the tender soil and removed from the rootstock. We must be fertilized and grow through the adversity of life that is sometimes a bitter solution to drink, yet a necessary one if we wish to become that rare specimen the Father has seen within us all along.

Sometimes, so mangled have we become through the challenges we face that we are not even able to receive the Light upon our growing parts. It is in those times that the things that block the reception of Light must be removed. And it is with the skill and delicacy of the Master Surgeon that cuts are made, dead and decaying processes and actions must be removed and the opportunity to bask in the warmth and glow of His presence must be restored.

Only then are we able to renew our roots, take stock in new growth and become a vital and glorious representation of the measure of our creation.

All of my life, Momma told me to "bloom where I was planted" and to "take joy in the journey". I truly am trying to do so. I have moments of fear, but I'm trying to replace them with evidences of my faith... to say my prayers like they really matter and to remember that whatever load I think I have is nothing when compared to the agony of other souls tied to mortal chains which I could never bear.

As I tried to go to sleep last night digesting the thoroughly undigestible contents of a painful day, I was moved to a rush of tears as the warm and tender thought of Gethsemane came to my mind.

There I pictured my Savior enduring the agony of my problems without one thought for His own discomfort or pains. He took it all upon himself in a private moment meant for Him and me alone. There were no others crowding His thoughts. It was and is a vivid view of the fact that Jesus Christ doesn't see any of us as just another number in the vast host. He literally took it all upon Himself and paid in His blood for everything that I feel helpless to endure alone. And then he has promised that I will NEVER be left alone through this whole thing.

I am so thankful for my family and friends who are indeed the roses in the garden of my life. And more especially thankful I am to the Master of the Garden who tends with care each delicate bloom so that He can, through His power and grace, make beauty from the thorns.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

I'm seriously considering buying stock in umbrella companies. I'd make a killing.

Today, the phone rang and a command performance at the doctor's office is on the table for me tomorrow. Yippee.

Blood test results are in and they want to see me face to face to share what will not be happy news. Of this I am sure. Having worked in a doctor's office and making some of these calls myself to anxious patients I know that when the doctor calls, the news isn't good. They don't call and say "yippee, everything was great!". It's more like "Hmmm. Can you come in and discuss this."

I'm kind of at my breaking point right now. I'm planning to show up at the doctor's office in my workout clothing because I am going to the gym regardless of what results they share. I'll either celebrate the good news or pump iron and do crunches to the bad with a loud blast of music from the headphones in my bag.

Whatever the news is, I'm afraid to hear. It is sure to be a life-altering moment no matter what is pronounced. How do it get through this?

People are praying. Lots of people.

And Beth came over so we could cry together - she over the loss of EZ and missing his ever-ready presence in her life and me over news that could well terrify me to death if the malady isn't enough to do it.

Sometimes trying to see past your own issues to help someone deal with their own is a blessing. Right now, I need all the blessings I can get. Trying to sort out my emotions about all of my issues is getting to be a bellyful. I'd rather do my best to try to comfort Beth for all of her hurting in the absence of her wonderful puppy and friend. It reminds me so much about my own feelings of loss, hurt and emptiness when my beloved Smokey died. It's a wound that just aches.  Time helps, but there will forever be a paw print stamped upon my heart from Smokey. It is no different for Beth. Even if you accept a new furry friend into your life, it will never be the friend who has gone on before.

I hope I help her to feel better. Sometimes I fear that my own minor crises in life are overshadowing the greater burdens of a larger world than my own.

Is there any of this that makes any sense?

Not sure... not sure at all sometimes. God knows the sense in all of this. And upon His understanding and strength I must depend.