My normal post

In spite of having another lump come up that is acting suspicious and my faith being very much tested right now, today I'm writing about normal things. Memories and making them.

Today we shot some fireworks my mom bought for Owen and Hannah's enjoyment. The 4th of July and fireworks always remind me of July 4, 1980. My brother who was then 12 years old was holding a Roman candle when it backfired and hit his stomach. I had just turned 3.

I remember people running in to the restroom to take care of his wound and discussing whether he needed to go to the ER or not. At the time all I remember was fear. I thought I might lose my older brother and I didn't like it at all. He ended up being ok but has permanent scars from that day.

I thought of this because now I have a daughter who is 3. She's naturally leery of fireworks and in all honesty so am I. I told Hannah that nothing was going to happen if she stood far enough back and if something freaky did happen to put her or Owen is danger then I would jump in front of them and they would be ok. She then thought it was ok and agreed to hold a sparkler with my help.

How time flies. My brother's incident was 29 years ago and it is truly my most clear childhood memory.

My poor brother doesn't have much luck on July 4th. When I was 18, he was shot in the abdomen area in a drug situation. My brother fell into drugs when he was 12 and he still hasn't recovered. He is still an addict. Anyway, the bullet lodged somewhere below his liver and is still in there as it would have been more dangerous to operate than to leave it. We had hoped he learned his lesson with illegal drugs but unfortunately he did not and is now 40 years old and still on them. It's pitiful. He once said had his grandfathers not died when he was 8 years old he probably wouldn't have tried them. My Grandpa Thompson died of colon cancer on Dec 30, 1976 and Grandpa Kennedy followed with a heart attack on Jan 17th (I think). It was around three weeks apart.

Looks like my brother does a lot of "what if" thinking too. I've wondered what if I didn't have Cowden's and didn't have to worry about cancer? Would I be lost like I fear my siblings are? If so then I am glad I had the cancer and that God built me with this flukey gene. Even though lately I have had some of the strongest attacks of my life on my spirit, my heart still knows he is there. With the finding of the new lump and seeing that I am losing body parts (the breasts) it has brought mortality into my mind in a big way. Satan saw a place to interject and had me thiking there is no God at all.

A couple of problems with that. I once asked for a sign if he was there and still loved me. The one thing that wasn't supposed to happen dates back to that weekend. Owen Michael Rowe--my four and a half year old blonde haired boy whose due date was supposed to be Christmas. As time has went on, the dramatic impact of that escapes me sometimes--never for too long though. Today coming back on and reading the Dear Cancer letter I wrote when I was unable to sleep due to the nightmares has helped too. I had that faith a week ago and I still do.

Satan needs to go to Hell. Pronto.

Now how did this end up back on my health? --Sigh-- At least I tried a normal post.