“Or don’t you know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body.” I Corinthians 6:19-20 (NLT)

October is nearly over and so are the days remaining in Breast Cancer Awareness month. I get my mammogram done religiously every year and have since I was in my mid-30s when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’m trying to set a good example for my daughters so I drag myself to the clinic once a year erring on the side of precautionary procedures because of my family history. Given my propensity for procrastination though I’d very likely “forget” to have a mammogram done were it not for regular reminders.

For years I went to the same clinic for my mammograms. It was a great place to go because the woman who took care of me had that little extra special “bed side manner” necessary for such an awkward job. God bless her, she took the time to pre-heat the machine by placing a warm heating pad on the booby trap prior to each test, thereby eliminating that feeling that your hoo-hah’s are being squashed by a vice that’s been left over night in a sub-zero deep freezer. I’m not sure if she learned that trick in Breast Smashing 101 in Mammography school, but she should get extra jewels on her crown someday for that little secret.

This year I pushed my mammogram aside for an extra month since I’d had a change in insurance carriers and had to go to a new clinic. No big deal – or so I thought. Once you’ve had your twin sisters pressed between two large plexiglass plates, you figure one mammogram is the same as all the rest. And for the most part, this one was.

The room was adorned with the standard issue mammogram cartoons designed to relieve internal fears. There’s the one with the husband backing the mini-van over his wife’s breasts as she lies down on the garage floor. Or the one with the woman who takes a number from a machine in front of a salvage yard with a sign that reads, “Mo’s Auto Crushers and Mammograms.” You get the idea. While the cartoons are designed to make you smile, there’s no denying the inevitable that your ta-ta’s are going to be smashed to within an inch of their very existence.

The procedure began and the technician adjusted my girls just so. She quickly retreated doing that duck and cover thing behind the protective shield to flip her switch. I let my mind wander and started wondering if anyone ever wakes up thinking, “Gee when I get older I want to smash breasts all day for a living.” My brain barely had time to ponder the unusual career field as all rational thought and reasoning became nigh too impossible with each passing second. I teetered on tippy toes as the machine pressed down while pulling me all at the same time with the increased pressure. I did my best to “hold my breath and relax” as ordered but let’s face it, that’s the most ridiculous request on the planet when your body parts are being pressed and pulled beyond recognition!

Now it’s usually at the point where the pressure increases just so making you think your eyeballs are going to explode out of your skull from their sockets that the x-ray is mercifully over and the machine starts to release you from it’s death hold. Not so with this new girl. I suspect she must have been nurturing a darker, more sinister side to her personality as the machine continued to squeeze and press past the usual “flat as a pancake stage.” In fact we bypassed the “rolled pasta” stage and raced past the “flatter than is humanly possible” stage before she finally released the machine from the jaws of terror.

I gotta give it to her, this new girl takes the all time prize in mammography for introducing me to the legendary, but rarely achieved state of “Tortilla Flats.” It was at the pinnacle of tortilla flat, I felt the oxygen leaving my brain and I think I may have blacked out for an instant. By the time we moved on to the second x-ray on the same breast to shoot it from a new angle, I distinctly heard a choir of angels singing all around me. Thankfully the technician switched to the other breast before I had a complete out-of-body-experience. Although, I’m pretty sure before we were finished I saw a bright light beckoning me forward through a long tunnel and Jesus himself calling me home!

To say that my annual mammogram was a religious experience would be stretching it a bit, but I definitely did some serious praying throughout the entire procedure. The most intense prayers being, “please God let these films come out perfect so I don’t need to have retakes!”

If you’ve not had a mammogram yet and I’ve scared you into thinking you’re never going to have a mammogram – please don’t listen to me! I’m a writer and I have a tendency to embellish ever so slightly. Plus bear in mind that I’m a woman in a serious dating relationship with menopause so “the old gals” are easily frightened these days and a bit on the squeamish side. (I’ve got all I can do just to keep them out of my lap when I sit down most days. They seem to be in a race with Mr. Gravity and Father Time – and so far the sisters are sagging behind – literally!)

Mammograms are a necessary procedure if we’re going to be responsible for these weak vessels that God has entrusted us with. Women need to have annual mammograms if you’re over 40, as well as a standard well-woman check up and exam (including a Pap smear). Remember mammograms aren’t always 100% reliable for detecting cancerous lumps, but they are still considered one of the most useful tools in the early detection of breast cancer. And yes, while they are uncomfortable and slightly painful (depending on your breast size) there are definitely things in life that rank far higher on the pain meter. Things like childbirth, root canals, death, dismemberment, divorce and foreclosure to name just a few.

Hopefully my experience brought a smile to your face – but more importantly, I pray you’re inspired to become proactive when it comes to your own health. Don’t delay!

Breast wishes for a long and healthy life!

Thank you Lord for modern day technology that gives us an advantage when it comes to our health and bodies. Help me never to take for granted what you died to give me and help me always to take care of myself so I can live a long and healthy life. This is the only chance we get this side of Heaven, Lord … help me to live responsibly every day. In your name I ask all these things, Lord. Amen!

“As the Scriptures say, “A man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one.” This is a great mystery, but it is an illustration of the way Christ and the church are one. So again I say, each man must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” Ephesians 5:31-33 (NLT)

Summer fairly flew by and before I knew what hit me, it had arrived: the day I’d been dreading for the past 18 years. It was time to push my youngest out of the nest and let her spread her wings and fly away to college, joining her brother the college junior, 120 miles to the north. As my husband and I stood arm-in-arm and watched this fully grown 18 year old woman walk away from us, tears coursed down our cheeks. My daughter put on a courageous face, turned for one final wave and walked bravely into her unknown future at what would become her home for the next four years of her undergraduate career.

Blah, blah, blah – look at me waxing poetic and getting all sappy when in reality nothing could be farther from the truth! Okay, I’ll admit it – there was definitely sentiment, chaos and emotion on this auspicious occasion, but mostly on my part. Somehow I managed to temper it so as not to single out my daughter and make her an instant laughing stock amongst her peers. Inside I was a sloppy, emotional retard given to fully fueled crying jags whenever I found time to steal away by myself. My husband, on the other hand, was secretly dancing with barely contained happy feet at the prospect of finally having all of our children out of the house for the first time in our 22 year marriage.

Now that our children have been gone for six weeks, the household is adjusting and I’m seeing some definite pluses and minuses to this empty nest thing. I confess, initially I fell into an empty nest funk that saw me wallowing in self-pity and turning to my old, best friend, Mr. Oreo, double-stuff, extraordinaire. But I’m better now and happy to be productive and actually writing again. (**Coming soon, the publication of my first novel!) And as for Mr. Oreo, well he’s been given his walking papers and I’ve vowed to keep my relationship with sandwich cookies on hold indefinitely.

One thing that worries me with this empty nest thing is I’ve had several people ask me, “Now that your kids are gone, are you and your hubby running around naked all the time?” Most of these people who ask this question are 60 and over, which has me wondering about the predecessors of earlier generations. Did older people do a lot of naked cavorting in the 50s and 60s? Ick! That conjures up mental images that register high on the scare-o-meter. And ICK, my husband and I are both eligible for our AARP cards now, so seriously … who wants to see that in the bright light of day? That’s one for the minus column, for sure.

My husband and I aren’t the only ones transitioning in this empty nest thing. Our dog is suffering an identity crisis of epic proportions and has become my best bud and constant shadow. I haven’t decided yet if this is a plus or a minus. He follows me everywhere, including the bathroom because he feels so abandoned since the kids have left. His status as simple family pet has been elevated to “the Little Prince.”

I’m worried we’re going to become one of those couples that transfers all attention and emotion to this four-legged furry resident because he’s now the center of attention. I’m ashamed to admit I carry on full-blown conversations with him now, asking his opinion on things like TV shows and dinner selections. Ok, without even discussing this further, I think we’ll place this one in the “minus” column and send out a request for help that might involve medication if this escalates to the next level: having him pick out matching wardrobe ensembles for the two of us and buying a large shoulder bag to carry him to the grocery store with me.

And speaking of dinner selections, I would definitely place this one in the plus column. After 22 years of trying to cook chicken and hamburger in 100 economical ways that pleases every palate, I’d grown weary of hearing, “I don’t like that!” Mealtimes now are the one time I delight in the silence.

My favorite evening meal has become cereal or toast. My husband, who falls in the category of “will eat anything covered in cheese and rolled in a tortilla,” is so easy to please, it’s laughable. Although now with the kids gone who were all “persnickety” eaters at best, the hubs has taken to culinary experimentation. He’s got an apron, a chef’s coat and discovered a seasoning rub that he’s taken a liking to. If he gets a chefs hat and asks me to call him “Chef Bobere” I may consider trading him in for a George Foreman grill and a Golden Retriever.

My husband has been doing some empty syndrome adjusting that quite frankly, worries me ever so slightly. Never one who liked to run errands alone, he used to bribe the children to go with him everywhere. He’s finally faced facts that Home Depot and the pool supply store are far down on my list of “least favorite places” to shop and he’s finally stopped asking me to tag along. That’s not what has me worried though. The behavior that has alarm bells ringing in my head is his newfound willingness to grocery shop. While this is a definite plus for me, it’s opened my eyes to a whole other side of my husband. The jury’s still out as to whether this new side of him is a plus or minus.

He’s morphed into one of those old men that clips coupons on Sunday mornings, tucking them away in his special envelope, all the while laughing to himself as he peruses the grocery ads. He doesn’t think I’m watching him as he grins and talks to himself (or the dog) that “it’s like stealing! They’re giving this stuff away for free!” I look at him and think to myself, “when did Grandpa move in with me and where did my husband disappear to?”

He’s gotten this grocery thing down to a very specific science now. Like a warrior preparing for battle, he rises early on Saturday or Sunday mornings and goes for an early morning run at the track. This is his pre-war attack strategy where he maps out his target. Once he’s finished with his run, he grabs his battle gear: coupons, grocery list and grocery cash. Of course he never leaves home without his secret weapon, his debit card – should the aforementioned become depleted too early. He sees the grocery store as a battlefield that must be divided and conquered. His technique is to do an outside sweep first – produce, dairy, meat and toiletries and then move on to the vulnerable easy prey in the inner sanctum – snack foods, canned goods, staples and frozen foods.

Upon his return, each shopping mission is deemed a success when he comes home the victor displaying his spoils of battle. He proudly parades his bargains and deals before me and I swear, has yet to return with no less than four boxes of cereal each and every shopping trip! He’s gotten so good at shopping for deals on boxed cereal; he and I could survive until the next millennium with what is in our pantry. (Of course we can’t leave the house because he’s not yet learned that deodorant, shampoo and laundry soap are valuable commodities to conquer as well. But hey, he gets an “A” for effort anyway.) Who knew cereal killer was an undiagnosed side effect of empty nest syndrome?

One thing for sure, this empty nest thing has many positives and negatives, pluses and minuses. I can now better understand why so many couples divorce at this time in their lives. It’s definitely a challenge at this age to grow together and not farther apart without the glue of shared parental responsibility. But don’t worry about us. My husband and I are made of stronger stuff. We’re glued together with the bond of Christ and are blessed to be each other’s best friend. I have no doubts we’ll adjust to this lifestyle without children. At least we’ll never go hungry as long as my husband the cereal killer is around. Now if I could just get him to learn to love shoe shopping … this empty nest thing might be worth something after all!

Dear Lord, thank you for healthy, happy children who are blessed to have the opportunity to further their educations. I pray for their continued safety and ask that you would bless them with wisdom and common sense as they grow into productive adults. Help them learn to rely on you more and less on us. I pray my husband and I can enjoy this chapter in our lives and pray that you will help us to find fulfillment in our marriage as we’re in unfamiliar territory for the first time. Help me especially to let go of my children and give them the freedom to find out who they are as people without my constant interference. Help me to rediscover who I am as a person and help me to fulfill those desires and dreams you’ve placed in my heart to serve you that are separate and apart from my role as a mother. I ask all these things in your name, Lord Jesus. Amen!