Brave Heart, Brave Soul. She who is brave is free.

“Strength grows in the moments when you think you can’t go on but you keep going anyway.” ~Anonymous In this last post for October, I just want to say how humbled I am to share my thoughts, my stories and my life with you. This blog started out as a means to cope, to deal with cancer and to fight back. Little did I know back then not only would I survive breast cancer but I’d also develop a voice of my own along the way. In finding my voice and in battling the big C, I’ve come to understand the deeper meaning in Marianne Williamson’s words, “Something very beautiful happens to people when their world has fallen apart: a humility, a nobility, a higher intelligence emerges at just the point when our knees hit the floor.” My knees did indeed hit the floor but today, October 31, 2016, some 10 years since cancer came for me I have emerged stronger. I sit here in awe, blessed and grateful to be able to call myself a SURVIVOR. Ten years ago this past December I found a lump in my...

“No one looks back and remembers the nights they had plenty of sleep” ~anonymous “Saturday, 6 pm, our house” is usually how the conversation begins. I grew up with a home full of people gathering in my parents’ house. The kitchen was always full, and by southern standards that was a good thing. Here in ‘twang’ country, the kitchen is “a gathering place for friends and family, a place where memories are homemade and seasoned with love.” Yep, that about sums it up nicely if I do declare myself. So it should come as no real surprise I enjoy opening our home to our friends and family as often as possible. It can be anything from the holidays, birthdays, planned game nights and dinners or simply unplanned, random, impromptu, and spontaneous evenings with friends around our table. The one thing I have always wanted for my children was the same gift my parents gave me and that is extended family.  When I look back on my life as a whole I am thankfully aware of the many various, div...

“Behind every scar there is an untold story of survival.” ~anonymous My scars, each one of them though they may be old, purple, fading and spread out are still very present across my chest. I have scars most people could not imagine living with, more or less living through what caused them. I have been cut open and stitched up in ways unimaginable, put back together again and sent on my merry way. My scars are a living testament, a reminder I have faced death, battled the Beast and lived to tell the tale. I am not ashamed of my scars, no, they tell my story. I wake up each and every morning and face the mirror without as much as sigh. I see the mark of the Beast on my body. I am vividly aware of her handiwork, the art of breast cancer’s imprint and the impact on my life. I feel the phantom pains, the crazy reminders of a breast that once was but no longer exists. In those moments each and every morning staring into the looking glass I thank my Father for His unyielding s...