The Prayer Rock Back Story Part Two

I am going to share my experience with breast cancer but I want to be sure that anyone reading this post understands that each cancer experience and diagnosis is different for each person. The process I went through is mine and would not be the same for another woman or man. Cancer is a very personal experience and while some treatments and protocols may be common, the journey is never the same.  If diagnosed with cancer, each person has to work with her or his medical team to determine the best treatment plan.

I hope my walk through this faith experience can encourage someone and bring honor to God for answered prayers and His providence in my life.

In 2005, I left the principal position at Mabry Junior High School and moved to work at the District Office in the area of curriculum and special programs.  That first year at the District Office was a great learning experience, and while I missed the daily interactions with the students, teachers, and parents, I didn’t miss the long hours and stress that came with being a principal. 

That spring 2006, my successor at New Prospect Elementary, Mrs. Cathy Bird, passed away unexpectedly and I returned to finish the year out at New Prospect from mid-March until June.  It was a very sad and challenging time and is still hard for me to think about. 

Fast forward to Labor Day weekend, 2006.  I have always been one of those people who tried to keep up with physical exams, dentist appointments, other specialists, and try to be healthy.  I have been blessed to have good insurance so getting to the doctor for physicals and keeping up with all the screening tests was never a hardship.   Although at the time, there was no breast cancer in our immediate family, I had always been religious about the self-exam and mammograms.  In fact, I had just had a mammogram about 2 months ago that was normal. 

I was watching TV, reared back in the recliner, when I casually ran my hand over the top of my right breast.  I felt a thickening—not a lump really, but a thickening about the size of my little finger and about an inch long.   That had not been there when I had done my last monthly self-check.

I didn’t panic and I didn’t tell Harry. 

Tuesday morning I called my doctor and reported what I had found and by 11:00 AM that morning, I was in his office and he was checking it out.

He felt what I felt and said that I needed to have an ultrasound scheduled. 

A few days later, I went in for the ultrasound, Harry with me.  The ultrasound was conducted and results given to the doctor.  He said that nothing really showed up on the ultrasound. He couldn’t tell what it was but it “didn’t look like anything to be concerned about.”   

The theme of these series of blogs is the Prayer Rock.  Sometime between the time I found the thickening and had the ultrasound, I had sat on the rock and prayed about it.  I remember saying to God that I didn’t have a good feeling about this.  I think women know their bodies and our bodies do speak to us.  I just didn’t feel good about this event and I was preparing myself for bad news.   I asked God to take care of me and to help me make the right decisions as this situation went on.

When the doctor said he didn’t see anything to be concerned about and that we could “watch” it for 3 months or take it out, I emphatically replied, “NO!  We take it out now and we don’t watch it.”    

That still small voice had said to me quite clearly and rather loudly,  “Don’t wait. Don’t watch it. Get it out now.”   I said to the doctor, “ I realize that you don’t see anything, but we know it is there. And if you can’t tell me what it is or isn’t, then we need to take it out as soon as possible.”  He agreed with me and his next question was who I wanted for a surgeon.   I had never had a surgeon and the only name that I could think of was the nice young surgeon who had performed our son’s emergency appendectomy, Dr. Darren Chapman.   The doctor said that was a good choice and Dr. Chapman was doing almost exclusively breast surgery now.   So, two days later, I was in Dr. Chapman’s office discussing the minor surgery that was to take place. 

Dr. Chapman felt that the thickening we were feeling was nothing to be concerned about, but he agreed that since it wasn’t showing up on the ultrasound, the best course was to be safe and take it out.

And so on Oct. 3, 2006, I found myself at Mary Black Hospital being prepped for surgery.   I remember Dr. Chapman coming to the gurney where I lay awaiting surgery.  He took my hand and said, “I want to check that this thing is still there. I have known you ladies to pray them away.”   He checked and it was still there.  He looked me in the eye and said, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.   We’ll just take it out and it will be fine.”  He prayed with me and things got underway.

When I woke up, the first thing I remember is having my right hand held by Dr. Chapman and my left hand held by Harry.  I only had to look in their faces to know.  Even today, I feel so sorry for Dr. Chapman.  He had the sickest look on his face and I said, “Well, let’s have it.”  

He said that he was completely blown out of the water. He never expected to find cancer. When he removed the thickening we had all felt but couldn’t identify, it was benign.  Completely harmless.  However, hidden behind the growth, masked so that it didn’t show up on the ultrasound was a 1.3-centimeter tumor.  Breast cancer.   He had cleared all the margins and it was being sent for testing but we would need to talk in his office in two days. 

While he was upset that he had missed the diagnosis, I have a different perspective.  I think in my heart, even though everyone said I had nothing to worry about, I had known that it was not going to be good. 

I really believe that God put the growth there.  The tumor had not shown up in my recent mammogram. Perhaps it was fast growing and wasn’t even there when I had the mammogram. I had not felt it when I did my self-exams.  If I had not felt the thickening and taken action, it might have been too late.

And I thank God every day that He spoke to me so emphatically so that I was compelled to demand that the growth be removed immediately.  Had we waited 3 months to watch it, it might have been too late.  The type of cancer with which I was diagnosed is aggressive.  I don’t like to think about it.  

And so began a journey that I might do differently if I had it to do over, but again, maybe not.  I think all women must contemplate what they might do if they were ever diagnosed with breast cancer and for me, I had always told myself that I would have a mastectomy and not question it.  Treatment of breast cancer has come a long way and today, a total mastectomy is not always the first course of treatment. But for me, I still had that voice telling me to have a mastectomy. The course of action I would have taken differently, however, would be to have met with the oncologist and gotten a treatment plan first before having the mastectomy, but in October 2006, all I could think was that I wanted the offending breast removed as soon as possible.

During this time, I spent a lot of time on the prayer rock.  I mentioned in an earlier post, that my mother had died of colon/liver cancer in 1990.  During the 3 years or so that she was sick, I never heard her complain or question God.  She never asked ‘why me?” She was always positive and hoping for the best.  She might be in pain, but she would never let you see it.  A cousin remarked that his aunt had shown how to live life as a Christian and how to die as a Christian.  I remembered that.   And so, as I sat on the rock and talked to God, my prayer was that I would be brave like Mama, strong like Mama, and gracious like her.  And that no one who worked around me was going to be uncomfortable or feel like they had to tippy toe around.  I asked for peace, grace, a sense of humor, and strength to get through what was ahead.

Dr. Chapman and I made an appointment to have the right breast removed on October 13, 2006.  He would remove the breast and also perform a sentinel node biopsy at the same time.  This is a procedure where radioactive dye is injected into the breast and travels to the lymph nodes.  If the lymph node or nodes are  “hot”, then that indicates that cancer has spread to the lymph nodes.

The Rose Bush from Hell

My mother gave many of my plants and bushes to me.  She was a wonderful gardener and she got it honestly from my grandfather, her father.  He lived in Charleston, West Virginia, and was an educator but he gardened for pleasure. His garden was beautiful, and even though he died before I was born, I remember his garden, especially the iris.  Mama had many plants in her yard and garden that she had gotten from his garden when she married and moved to Spartanburg. 

 I didn’t care much for gardening when I was a kid and teenager at home—most normal teenagers don’t care for pulling weeds out of the rose bed or picking green beans.  I do remember occasionally helping weed flowerbeds but it was usually under duress or guilt. 

When I married and moved to our farm, gradually I became interested in plants and having a lovely yard of my own.  Mama was more than happy to help me and give me plants.  Plant swapping is a given in the south, especially those prolific plants that have to be divided and thinned anyway.  Mama was always ready with advice and suggestions for planting and cultivating and I am grateful for that and that I listened.

Mama had a favorite rose bush that was rooted from a cutting from her father’s garden in West Virginia.  It is the 1932 New Dawn Rambling Rose.  And it was a new rose bush in 1932 when Grandfather acquired it for his garden.  I saw this rose in the rose garden at Biltmore Gardens when my son and daughter-in-law took me there for a Mother’s Day gift to see the Downton Abbey costume display.  Anyway, the 1932 New Dawn Rose is there and even if I do say so myself, Biltmore’s rose bush doesn’t have anything on mine. 

But my rose bush has quite a story.  NOW, it has a place of honor in my garden, neatly trained on a sturdy iron trellis crafted by a local iron craftsman, Ed Simmons.  It wasn’t always on that trellis though.

When Mama first gave me the rose bush which she had rooted for me, she told me it needed “room”, so we planted it near the pasture fence located where our vegetable garden is now. But then, over 45 years ago, it was in a remote part of the yard, near the fence, and had the run of the place.  I failed to mention that my version of the New Dawn Rose is a rambler—not a climber.  There is a difference.  A climber rose basically will send shoots UP and can be trained on a vertical trellis easily.  A rambler does just that—it rambles. It sends out long canes in a horizontal direction and if these canes are on the ground, they will easily root and send out more shoots.

Over the years, the bush had gotten so big that rabbits made beds in it; birds nested in it, and was literally the size of a small living room.  Really.  Our oldest son was convinced that it was the rose bush in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimn, where one descended under the bush into the ground.  I also failed to mention that this rose has large, ferocious thorns.  Between the canes that shoot out and the thorns, and the size of the bush, it reminded one of an animated tree in a Disney movie.  Everything would be fine until Harry mowed the grass.  He hated that rose bush!  Understandably so. Invariably, thorns would attack him as he tried to keep it tamed with the mower.  I’d hear him complain about the Rose Bush from Hell as he dubbed it …as I doctored his wounds.

Finally, I consented to let him dig most of it up and transplant it along the side of a newly constructed hay storage barn.  I was fine with that because it would be out of the way, look nice against the barn wall, and be out of the yard where he had to mow.  So, New Dawn got moved to the new barn where she flourished and grew for about four years. 

My mother passed away in 1991 and the plants and bushes she had given me were a comfort.  As long as I had her rocks and her plants, I had a part of her with me always.  Anyone who has lost someone can understand how possessions or objects belonging to that person become important and cherished.

One day, I came home from school and saw that along the length of the hay barn, a big swath of dirt had been moved and the dirt laid bare.  My rose bush was gone! Nothing but a big scar of red dirt remained.  My father-in-law, bless his heart, had decided that water was running into the barn and would damage the hay, so his solution was to have a bulldozer operator from down the street come up and do some repair work.

I loved my father-in-law, but I was angry, hurt, and devastated that my rose bush was gone!  I understood that water didn’t need to get in the hay barn, but couldn’t he have at least waited until I could move the rose bush?  Well, McMillan men are not known for their foresight when it comes to bushes.  Harry’s mother loves to tell about the time she came home to find her prized camellias pruned to the ground with the chain saw by this same man.  That’s another blog. 

Anyway, I was so hurt and crushed.  By this time, Mama’s yard was not the same as it was when she was living and there was no chance of going to her house and getting another cutting from the bush.  So I mourned her and the rose bush for several weeks.   Then one day, I happened to be walking in the yard and ventured down near the barn where the bush had been—I’m sure that I wanted revisit my anger and hurt and truth be told  --POUT.   But like a phoenix rising up from the ashes, what did I see but sprigs of the rose bush coming up bold and strong out of the ground!  Several nice sprouts were coming up and I knew then that this rose bush was going to survive!  What a testament to resilience and hardiness!   It was then that I determined that the bush was going to be moved to a spot where I could protect it and not worry that it would be bulldozed again.

So, I found the trellis which Harry placed in the ground for me and transplanted the rose bush.   I wish I could say that all was wonderful and pleasant after that. But even though I had transplanted the rose bush and had her in a safe place, I had not changed anything genetically in the rose bush’s DNA. She still had thorns and she still had those accursed rambles.   So, even though she had been in this spot for at least 20 years, she had to routinely get pruned way back, which only encouraged her to send out even more thorny rambles.   And I still had to make sure that the rambles were contained within the garden and trellis so that when Harry mowed the yard, the Rose from Hell wouldn’t attack him.  Still, she did well there and provided many years of beautiful blooms that start out a deep pink and gradually as the buds open, become snow white.  The fragrance of the blooms is wonderfully strong and powerful, not like some of the more grand roses bushes that are all show and no smell.

Sometime in early fall 2017, we had one of those freak thunderstorms with high winds that did some damage in the area. The rose bush was a casualty. The wind was so strong that is was blown off the trellis and so damaged that there was no way to get it back where it belonged.   So, unbelievable still to me, I invited Harry to help me really prune the bush back and start over.  We armed ourselves with the best leather work gloves we own, long sleeves, and good shoes.  This rose bush doesn’t play!  After several hours, we had New Dawn really trimmed up with a lot of dead wood and old canes removed.  I was worried that we had really trimmed her up too much, but why would I question the ability of this rose to resurrect itself?  

Now, while she won’t have the profusion of blooms she usually has, this spring she does look healthier and stronger for the pruning.  

And if the reader would like to have her own Rose from Hell, or 1932 New Dawn, I have several cuttings ready to go.  The bush is easy to root. I guess that’s why all my grandfather’s children had one in their yard.  I root it simply by taking one of the rambling shoots and burying a portion of it in an old pot, covering it with dirt, weighing it down with a rock, watering it often, and just waiting a couple of months. Pretty soon, it will be rooted and another plant will be ready to go.

Just like Mama’s 1932 New Dawn Rose, we all need pruning from time to time.  God reminds us that pruning is good for plants and good for the soul. Jesus was very specific about the benefits of pruning and discarding what is not productive.

 We can all stand to have Him help us prune out the bad, diseased wood that is not productive and not good for us.  Pruning exposes new wood and encourages new growth.  Pruning makes way for renewal and restoration.  Pruning strengthens the plant and helps it prepare for the blooming or growing season.  Pruning strengthens us and gets us ready for what is coming.

And just like the rose bush, life has thorns. I’m thankful that the fragrant blooms of New Dawn remind us that even in the midst of trouble, we can still find beauty.  

The Prayer Rock Backstory Part One

Recently, I posted a blurb on Facebook about the prayer rock that Harry moved into a new place for me. I thought I would share the backstory of how I got the prayer rock and some of the experiences I have had there over the years.  This will be a little more biographical than just gardening. Be forewarned.

I think it must have been in the late 1980’s that Harry bought a new Massey Ferguson tractor that had a big front-end loader on it. This works like a bucket and can be moved up and down to move material.  I don’t know why we were riding around in the pasture on the tractor; maybe so he could “play” with the new loader and show me his skills.  The far border of our farm property is a stream.  It is not a very bold stream and is spring-fed in several places, but in one particular place there was a natural waterfall and many large rocks along the bank.  I am pretty sure that some of these large rocks are part of some of the same boulders that we used to make my rock retaining wall and all might have originated from the same geological event at some time in the long past.  Anyway, Harry saw a large flat rock and said he thought that if he could get it with the bucket, it would make a nice seat or focal point for my garden area.  Even then, he knew the way to my heart was with rocks!  So, after much maneuvering and manipulation with the bucket, the large flat rock and several others were transported to the house.  We set up the rock seat near the edge of the woods that border our yard and there it sat for many years.  It was only recently that it got a new place in the garden.

It didn’t start out as a “prayer rock”, only a nice flat rock that was nice to sit upon and reflect. But it is hard for me to be outside in nature, listening to the birds, smelling the fragrant flowers, looking at the blue sky and the mountains in the distance without my thoughts and my adoration turning to God.  And so, over the years, the rock became for me, a place where I could sit and commune with God. But there have been times when instead of communing, I cried out in pain, sadness, bewilderment, and faith. 

My mother went going through a battle with cancer, which ultimately took her life and over the approximately three years she was sick, I found many occasions to sit on the rock and pray for her healing, her comfort, and at last, her deliverance.  During those long days, I would sit on the rock and ask God to guide me and help me to be a good daughter to her and do everything I could to honor her and help her last days be as happy and free from worry as could be.  Mama showed us all how a Christian approaches death with faithfulness and grace.  I like to think that that the faith that sustained me through that time came, in part from sitting on the prayer rock and talking it through with God.

Fast forward several years, and I was serving as principal at New Prospect Elementary School.  I had been principal there for 8 years, and during that last that year, I had become burdened and convinced in my heart that my effectiveness and leadership were waning.  I have an educational administrative theory that the longer a person remains as a principal in the same school, sometimes it becomes harder to make the tough decisions that have to be made. Over time, you become close to the people in the school, you live through many life experiences with them, and you become friends and family. That makes it hard to lead and even harder to have those tough conversations with friends and even harder with family.  But as the leader of a school, you have to be able to do this if the organization is to continue to thrive and goals met. So that is where I was in early spring 1999.  It may not be true for every administrator but for me, I was becoming increasingly aware that I needed to make a change. However, I did not want to leave District One. 

 I remember sitting on the prayer rock one cold day in early spring when I got home from school and having a very frank conversation with God.  “God, you know that I am not feeling good about my leadership at New Prospect. And you also know that I am not applying for jobs, I don’t ever want to leave District One, and I am really at a loss.  So, I’m giving it all to you.  If you want me to be principal at New Prospect, then you give me some assurance that I am doing the right thing and I am going to give it all and be the best one I can possibly be.  But, if you don’t want me to be principal there, then you are going to have to take care of it because I am giving it to you!”  It was certainly an audacious way to talk to God, but I think He appreciates our honesty and our frankness with Him. I gave it to Him, and quite honestly, forgot about it.

Over the next few months, I dove deep into planning for the next three to five years of things I wanted the school to accomplish and the direction I wanted us to go.  I wanted the school to be a Palmetto’s Finest winner.  I went so far as to say we should be a National Blue Ribbon School! I met with teachers and enlisted their help with where I thought the school should go and how we would get there. I felt confident, renewed, and ready to face the next few years at New Prospect.  Apparently, God wanted me to stay right there! 

Then, something happened that I could never have anticipated and even today it remains one of those singular life events that will always be a bad memory.  A disgruntled employee accused me of something that could ultimately cost my position and bring much discredit to the school.  Over a period of about 10 days, while we were dealing with the allegations, I spent many an hour sitting on the prayer rock in anguish with God. I couldn’t believe that this was happening.  I am basically a very trusting person, and it is hard for me to recognize when people are just bad, evil, and manipulative.  I couldn’t believe that an employee would be so vindictive as to accuse me of a crime.

I distinctly remember sitting on the prayer rock and crying out to God.  “God! I know I said if you didn’t want me to be principal of New Prospect, you would have to take care of it…but I never meant that I wanted to go to jail!”  I can laugh about that now, but I wasn’t laughing then.

I was able to weather that particular episode, but that is not the point of sharing this experience.  Many times we offer up prayers to God and then try to answer the prayer ourselves.  I had forgotten about the prayer and challenge I gave to Him.   God does hear our prayers and He answers them in His own time, and often in ways that we could never dream of.  If I have learned anything in the experiences I have had in my Christian walk, it is that we can’t fathom how God works so that is why we just have to trust Him.  His ways are not our ways and we can’t even imagine how He makes provisions for us. Remember, I said to God while sitting on the prayer rock…”God if you don’t want me to be principal of New Prospect, you take care of it.  I’m giving it to you.”  

Certainly, that was the last thing on my mind as I struggled with the allegations of that former employee.

The middle of May arrived and I was deep into planning for the next year, testing, and end of year activities.  Sadly, the mother of one of our teachers passed away quite unexpectedly.  The Superintendent and I were going to another city to visit with the family.  I remarked that I had read where a longstanding principal in another good Spartanburg County school district had resigned to go to a place I considered less desirable to work.  “I could possibly see myself leaving New Prospect to go to District ______maybe, but down there?  I don’t think I could do that.”  

He looked over at me and said, “Well do you see yourself leaving New Prospect to go to Mabry?”   Well, suffice it to say that knocked me for a loop and it was one of the rare times I was left speechless.  As far as I knew, there wasn’t a vacancy at Mabry. 

Then I heard a still small voice speaking in my right ear. Really, that is what happened.  “Cathy, you gave it to me.”   That was all.  “Cathy, you gave it to me.”  

Then and there, I knew that God had heard my prayers, and even though I thought that He had forgotten that bold challenge I had issued to Him, He had not.   I knew that the Superintendent didn’t say things like that without meaning it.  I knew what he was asking. And there was no stalling for time or asking for time to talk it over with anyone. I knew that God had spoken and that He was in the midst of this conversation.  

I looked at the Superintendent and replied, “Well, I have always said that I would do whatever God and ________   _______ asked me to do.” His response to me, which we still laugh about it today, was, “ I don’t know about God, but this is__________ talking!”   On June 14, 1999, I was named principal at Mabry Junior High School.

Psalm 62:7

On God my salvation and my glory rest; 

The rock of my strength, my refuge is in God.

Psalm 62:2

He only is my rock and my salvation, 

My stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken.