Everything Reminds Me of My Blog (even cancer screening)


Love’s Eternal Day

It’s in the dreariness of winter

when grayness blocks the Light

our faith’s required the most to see

us through the edge of night


It’s in the melancholy moment

 when the fear of death is met

our true beliefs will surface

 yielding strength or deep regret


It’s in the vivid realization

when the body faces decay

 our soul must embrace solace

within Love’s eternal day.


Wendy ❀ 2015


Ian found a swamp where I could take pictures of swans.

Since we’d been having a particularly stressful week,

 he knew I needed something to look forward to on the weekend,

so we made plans to visit Coal Creek Heritage Park.




When you’re grappling with the possibility that your life may end sooner than later,

you sit up and take notice;

the outdated wallpaper becomes invisible;

and thoughts of not living long enough to see your children leave the nest,

to build their own,

cover the walls of your mind.  


When I recently had a health scare, all I could think about was:

“I want to live long enough to see my children grow up.”

And the crazy-lady part of me (all writers have one in their brain) wanted to turn this whole cancer screening thing into a blogpost.


My sane-self shook her head. “Good grief. Seriously–a blog post?”

The crazy-lady in me grinned and nodded. “Yep.”

“Whatever for?”

Everything reminds me of my blog.”




I also thought about not wanting to leave my husband alone to finish raising our young.

I thought about all the hikes I’d miss out on,

and I told him to make sure he still went on our regular walks.

But most of that stressful week I went about my normal routine.

There’s no history of breast cancer in my family.

This is just a false alarm.

But I needed to check it out.

How can I tell my daughter to take care of her health

if I’m not taking care of mine?




Saturday: “I think I’ve found a lump.”

Sunday: I hope people at church can’t tell I’m nervous.

Monday: My doctor examined me. “You have a lump. I’ll fax the hospital and request a mammogram and an ultrasound.”

Tuesday: The hospital called. “Come in on Thursday for tests. Don’t wear antiperspirants.”

Wednesday night: The phone rang. “Hello.”

“How are you doing?” A lifelong friend asked (she happens to work in a cancer clinic in another town).

Both the sane-self and crazy-lady were amazed at the friend’s uncanny timing. “Pretty good,” they lied.

They talked about their families, and at the end the crazy-lady finally fessed up, because she coveted her friend’s prayers.

 Thursday at the hospital: “I hate not wearing antiperspirants,” the crazy-lady said when they were alone in the examination room.

Sane-self rolled her eyes. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

Crazy-lady groaned. “This is no time to make puns.” She pulled her camera out of her purse.

Sane-self’s mouth fell open. “What are you doing now?”

“Taking pictures.” Crazy-lady focused her camera on the patient gowns. “The mammogram lady said I could.”




A door opened and the technician re-entered the room. “You should get a call tomorrow or Monday with the results.”




Friday: The phone rang. “Hello… sorry, you have the wrong number.”

Sane-self forced herself to do her exercise routine. And wash her hair.

And do laundry. And supper preparations. And sweep the kitchen floor.

The doctor called. “The specialist says things look benign–so far. Come back in six months, and we’ll see if the lump has grown any bigger.” I’ve marked you down to receive a phone call. So don’t worry about remembering.”

Crazy-lady relaxed her shoulders. Good, it’ll take me that long to recover from all that pinching. Is she saying that cause we tend to skip follow-up appointments? “Thank you. Did you know I brag on you? I tell people I’ve got the best doctor…”

“… I hate to see my patients suffer or hear bad news.”




Sane-self scrunched her nose. “Why are you crying? We just got good news.”

“But what about all those women who’ve heard bad news?” Crazy-lady wiped a tear off her cheek. “They have to face a boob-saturated, boob-infatuated, and boob-worshiping society with one side missing. Sometimes both.”

“True. But isn’t it better to be lopsided or no-sided than dead?”

Crazy-lady sighed. “Yep.”




For the LORD comforts his people

and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

Isaiah 49:13 


What’s your go-to verse or quote when you need comfort?

Have you been getting regular checkups?

95% of women called for additional tests do not have cancer

( posted on the wall of the mammogram waiting room).


Blessings of Comfort ~ Wendy ❀


While I waited at various appointments,

I read a lovely inspirational book on my Kindle

by Shelli Littleton: A Gift Worth Keeping: It Goes With My Decor!

It was like having a kindred spirit beside me

as I read how she allows God to bless her in the midst of trials.

Now I’m learning to think of life’s challenges as gifts.

Thank you, dear Shelli.

Here’s a link to her blog (and to where I noticed her book).

Shelli’s Scribblings



~ ❀ ~

87 thoughts on “Everything Reminds Me of My Blog (even cancer screening)

  1. Hi Wendy! I’m so glad you received good results and don’t have to go back for six months! It IS so important to get those screening mammograms. I hate them because I barely have enough for them to squeeze, but they are worth it to have the peace of mind that everything is good. 🙂 You are such a blessing to so many readers and in this post you once again blessed us with your sharing, your pictures, and your words.

  2. Wendy, I rejoice with your good news! How appropriate for you to post pictures of swans, so peaceful at a beautiful place. So often God gives us what I like to call “Pictorial Lessons” straight from His creation. Thank you for being so transparent and letting us see how vulnerable we can all be even during very trying times. May the Lord continue to fill you with His peace and joy! Xoxo

    1. Daisy, thank you for blessing me with your lovely comment. Nothing draws one closer to the heart of God than trials. Fear can be the fuel for faith. It pushes me into the Lord’s arms. <3

  3. Wow…this post will resonate with many readers I’m sure. I know….I’m one of them who has gone through the “waiting and wondering”. Thank you for your candid revelation of your reactions and your resolve and for reminding us to take care of ourselves. Thanking God for your good news–“His mercies are new every morning!” Love and hugs ~ Laura

    1. Laura, thank you for reminding me of both a verse and a song. Great is His faithfulness regardless of what any test results may be. So glad to hear that you’ve also received good news (& the Good News). <3

  4. So pleased for your good news results Wendy. I, too, have been in this situation, it’s very frightening and difficult not to start writing scripts in our heads of an ‘Inevitable” outcome. We have three year reminders for breast screening here in the UK after you are a certain age and I am only too eager these days to have my appointment. x

    1. ❀ Oh, Christine, I’m so guilty in this department. I’m always late with responding to my doctor’s reminder notes. This was a wakeup call for me. She has literally plucked me out of the waiting room when I’ve been at the clinic with one of my children. I’ve got the nicest doctor on the planet. I will respond promptly next time. <3

  5. Good news, Wendy. I understand that blogging is the newest way to record life story, so it is natural to me (beinga a blogger myself) that our impulse is to pin down (pen down?) this experience. Blessings and wellness to you.

    1. Thank you, dear Mary Ann. I’ve heard that writing about our feelings is more beneficial for a writer’s health than merely writing down events. So true. I suspect that you “pen down” in a private journal too. ❀

  6. Several years ago I found a small lump. Turned out to be a fatty necrosis, which just means dead fat tissue. (I wish ALL my fat tissue was dead 🙂 ) So I’ve been through all the scarey testing stuff, and I even have a couple of really funny stories about the whole experience. I’m thankful to be in the 95%, but, like you, I feel great compassion for those whose news is not so good.

    1. Linda, I love that you were able to find humor in your experience with cancer tests. Laughter truly is the best medicine (next to prayer) when you’re battling anxiety. So nice to know you’re in the 95% too. ❀

  7. There are a lot of us out hear struggling with the same issues…The only resolution is to enjoy every minute, laugh a lot, spend time with your true friends, and enjoy every moment that life gives you, but then you know that now don’t you.

    1. So true, Charlie. I’m learning to live, love, and laugh more and more. A simple pleasure, such as a bird singing in the garden, means more than another trinket from the store. And sharing an insider joke with the family is a pot of gold. ❀

  8. Dear friend, may the next six months and always be filled with His peace, love and joy and may any ‘what if’s’ dwelling below the surface be sent packing, never to return.

    1. Amen, Liana. I refuse to think about the “what ifs” since I’ve given it my best shot. And thanks to Shelli’s book, I’m focusing on the Giver of gifts instead of any residual fear. ❀

  9. Beautiful post, Wendy. So sorry to hear about this trial. I loved the poem at the top, especially the last stanza.
    “It’s in the vivid realization
    when the body faces decay
    our soul must embrace solace
    within Love’s eternal day.”

    We all face that, as we age, illness or not. Very comforting words. Thank you for sharing your story. Wishing you peace and health.

    1. Cheryl, I’m honored that you caught that last stanza. Truly our time here is brief compared to eternity. But I do want to leave behind good, fun, and loving memories before I embrace Love’s eternal day. ❀

  10. Whew!!!! I’m soooooooooooo glad it lump is benign. Praise the Lord! And I love that you revealed your crazy lady self. Now I don’t feel all alone. And like you I’m worried about my upcoming surgery. I’ve seen my child grow up but I’m still not ready to die. There are so many springs yet to enjoy and I’d love to see my grandchildren grow up too. So I sure hope my crazy lady self can share good news with my WP family soon. Hugs, N 🙂 <3

    1. Natalie, the universal desire to live longer is evidence to me we’re made for an eternal place (this is a very loose paraphrase of a C.S. Lewis quote) . I look forward to hearing about your trip to Paris that you’ll be taking after your OR. And I hope you’ll be taking a ton of pictures (you know I would). I’ll be on your prayer team. ❀ Hugs from my crazy lady to yours.

      1. Oh I like the way you said that, Wendy! Oh for sure I will be taking lots and lots of pictures. Thank you for praying for me. We crazy ladies need all the prayers we can get. 🙂

  11. Wendy, I just love you. I’m so sorry you were going through that. I knew you had to go to the doctor, but I just assumed it was for normal stuff. I assumed. This blog post is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read. So worshipful … I just wanted to raise my hands and praise our God, through smiles and laughter and tears … because your words brought out all those emotions in me. I’m praising God for the good news thus far, and I’m praying like a crazy lady for you! I want six months from now to deliver good news. Thank you for mentioning my book … oh, you blessed my heart. You really rocked my world. I love you.

    1. ❀ Shelli, I thought it was so cool that I happened to be reading your book as I went through my little scare. Thank you for the comfort and encouragement I received from your words. I can now look back over my life and see that everything really has been used for good (everything). Trials can be gifts if we invite God to help us unwrap them. And by the way, there wasn’t one single typo in your book, and I had no instance of wanting to edit any of it in my mind. Impressive writing, dear sister. Count me as one of your fans for life. xo

  12. Wendy those moments waiting are the worst and we stumble through our days thinking of all the worst of it. Very natural though and i am so happy you had good news. this is a beautiful heartfelt post which many can resonate with. treat each day like it is our last, my father often said. Love those gorgeous swans. Shine onwards my friend.

    1. Kath, I like your dad’s advice. Indeed, we never know when it’s someone’s last day. Including our own. So glad to see you creating beautiful cards with your art. Good on you. ❀

          1. Thanks Wendy I will check it out. You could do some wonderful cards with your images and beautiful words. Have you seen Vista prints site? They offer some great deals.

  13. Thank God, it looks benign! Hugs to you, dear Wendy. I’m so sorry you had such a bad scare, I could feel it through your words. Like Kath said, allowing ourselves to think the worst is natural, and something that has resonated with many of us. Bless you! <3

    Jennifer xo

    1. Jennifer, the only good thing about thinking the worst is the immense relief afterwards. But why waste today worrying about tomorrow? So often we do. Hugs. ❀ Blessings as you write. <3

  14. Wendy thank you for your wonderfully honest words. And I’m so glad to hear that your news was good. Hold on to the 95% thought! I’m about to go through the same thing. It helped to hear this. God is with us always.

  15. Wendy, I was so relieved for you. My mom was “lop-sided” but she lived to be 92 years old. I still miss her. She had gone through cancer at the age of 50. It was a very scary experience, one that every woman dreads. May God bless you with continued good health.

  16. Wendy, wow! Simply, put yet wonderfully told. I relate to the split persona. Lovely swan shots also. Thanks for stopping by my blog. Be blessed, Al

  17. Dear Wendy, I have such screening at least twice a year. I have bad conditions since I spent a year in a hospital after that terrible accident. We should be always ready for anything and realistic, however, that doesn’t have to be the end yet. I always advice everybody to have another test with another imaging device, too. Misdiagnosis is a big part of this, and I have seen at least 3 or 4 times when technician was interpreting the test results wrong: all times they told it was much worse than it was, that was about other people, not me, because I’m often reviewing medical tests for people who I’ve never seen. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine, but tests are necessary.

    1. Inese, yes, mistakes are made (and tests are necessary). I remember hearing some really sad stories on our national radio station about this very topic. Some women had died due to ineptness in a radiology dept. and others had suffered unnecessary radical surgeries. I feel bad for everyone involved in those cases. And I feel grateful for my own careful doctor. ❀ Thank you for your concern and for your comment.

  18. When I saw that you had so many comments, I almost didn’t write. Wow! That’s a big one. Several years ago, my sister had breast cancer, so you know what that meant for me!
    This week, there was a shooting at my son’s university–two people dead! It came across my husband’s desk on Fox news! That was a bit frightening; however, the verse that shot across my numbed mind was: “Safety is of the Lord.” Proverbs 21:31 I trust the Lord to do what is right, even if it means the death of my baby? Gulp! Thankfully, He didn’t prove me on that one! Praying for you!

    1. Wanda, it’s almost worse to be the close relative of someone battling cancer than to be the actual person. You want to rescue them–but you can’t. But God can. In the way that He sees best. Our job is to pray and to trust. So glad your son is safe (how scary). Thank you for your prayers. ❀

  19. Wendy, What a frightening experience to have to go through. I had similar scare about eight years ago, and thankfully my result was also benign. We will keep one another in our prayers.

  20. Thanks for sharing and I’m so glad everything turned out! I had the same thing happen only I had to go through the additional fun of a needle biopsy a few years ago. I will admit to getting lax recently so thanks for the reminder.
    And I’m always thinking in terms of my blog now-so funny…

  21. Lifting you up in confident prayer–confidence in our Great God who loves you so and only gives us His best. Be of good cheer, dear heart. (And I’m glad you blogged about it–everything you said was so relate-able.)

    1. Calla, writers process stuff through bleeding-hearts on paper (I know you can relate to that too). Thank you for your prayers, dear poet friend. I’m believing all is well for both of us. ❀

      1. Absolutely, we writers do just that–and you enjoy the added gift of sharing beautiful photos with us (tiny envy!). Yesterday I watched Joel Osteen–his message, similar to others, was about this being the Believer’s year–open doors, breakthroughs, healing, opportunities, healed relationships, etc. He said the “key” is to BELIEVE–so I must keep speaking FAITH. xxooxo

  22. Wendy, you describe the experience so well. I have had scares and recalls and biopsies, and utter fear that gripped my heart and entrails, but all has been well in the end. The mammograms are important, and not nearly as uncomfortable as they used to be. And, I like the way you express your concern for those whose results were not as good. That is the part that upsets me, knowing that someone else on the day was not as fortunate. I would like us all to be well.

    1. I’m so glad to hear that your experience had a happy ending. Breast cancer is very treatable in the early stages–so it’s well worth the trouble to make double sure a lump is just a lump. So I’ll lump my next test without hesitation. ❀
      I’ve been following a writer on Facebook who is courageously fighting the cancer battle. I think she’s winning.

  23. So beautiful, Wendy. Full of the stuff of grace.I can relate to that writer’s way of turning all things to a blog post! This also puts me in mind of my younger days of actually DESIRING death, and how God transformed my life. Now, there is an opposite mindset, a fear somewhere in the recesses of my own crazy-lady that I might have to leave my beauties behind, but, in the end, there is, thankfully, God’s grace to shore me up.

    1. I love your words, “God’s grace to shore me up.” His love rescued me from the deep, and I’m ever and always grateful for this.
      Blogging is a lot like writing in a journal–isn’t it? It helps sort things out. Except on a blog we’re inviting others to join us on the adventure. Glad to have met you. We share a similar motherhood journey.

  24. Wise words, Wendy. And the photo of the curvy-neck swans in among the straight stubble-rows is stunning.

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