RAINED OUT GARAGE SALE

Wow, started this STORY written way back when. I mean like Husband died in Nov 2009 and I moved to Oregon in 2017 and even sold the washtub before I move. That's a story in itself.) 

WELCOME. Memories are heart warming smiles. 

“Mook, do we really need that?”  Husband would say. Of course, I felt we did.

On my drive home one day, it started to rain—one of those summer storms that hits Nebraska. Only a few blocks from home, I saw two men a garage sale--trying to get rid of stuff before the rain destroyed everything. 

“Anything for $1.00,” one yelled when I slowed down.

“We’ll even load your van for you.” The other one grinned.

They didn’t need to offer twice—my huge purchases cost me only $10. I pulled into the garage, managed to drag some larger items out of the van and into a corner.  Desperate, I threw blankets over the top to hide my treasures from husband. I knew for certain he’d question my sanity on these great finds.

When he parked the pickup in the front of the house, I greeted him with a big kiss. Excited, I almost told him, but then he was tired and I kept quiet.

The next week husband offered to help me clean house. I never say no. After we finished the major cleaning and sat for coffee, I asked for more help.

“Sure, whatcha need.” 

“Come with me.” One item at a time I uncovered my treasures. An old fashioned washtub I wanted for a planter—I couldn’t move it and it needed soil.

An old 

top of a hutch to put on the top of the bathroom dresser—no way could I lift it very far and then…and then—

Two hours and lots of paint, varnish and elbow grease later even husband said the rained out garage sale blessed us—even if I spent more than quarters. 

Can't find the photos for all those fun finds, but here is the washtub. Its one thing I plant for me every year. 

Does this look like Christmas in July? It's hot outside here in Oregon, but for family in Nebraska, it's sweltering with a high heat index. The snow looks inviting 

What do you think? I know my friend Lee Warren will love this picture:) Probably daughter and son-in-in-law, too. Just looking at snow fall makes you ALMOST feel cooler. 

1

 

My Third Ear-My Special Friend Lauri Cabe

This first posted in 2014: 

Some stories are worth repeating. My friend Lauri lives in Washington and I live in Oregon now. Too far apart to spend physical time together, but once or twice a week we call. Sometimes we talk only one hour, but this week, we spent two hours on the phone. How do we find so much to share? Good friends never run out of words or laughter. 

Dear Lauri,

Maybe 1999 

Most people are blessed with two ears. 
Me, I have three. The ones placed on either side of my head at birth work well. Then, in 1992, a year of struggle through life with Husband after his emotional, physical and mental breakdown I found you, my third ear. 
You listened. 

When I cried, you cried. When I kicked a door you stood aside and let me.  When I stopped by your place and said, “Go shopping with me,” you let me spend money without admonishing me. (We both knew my budget didn’t leave money for even second hand stores.) On the day after a shopping spree when I whined that I spent too much, you listened and laughed.

When I needed exercise you walked with me.  When I needed space from husband you drove over, picked me up, took me to coffee and listened to my non-stop prattle about my disintegrating marriage. 
Yet, when I threatened to leave Husband, while he struggled through the trauma after his breakdown, you said, “No.” 

In most instances you refrained from giving me your opinion. When my staying or leaving hung in the balance, you tipped the scales.

“You don’t want to leave. Not now. He’s not well. Give him space and time,”

About that time, no matter if we were in a coffee shop or at home, Husband would show up. He’d tell a nutty joke and you’d laugh at him. Through his nonsense and your laughter, I saw a glimmer of hope. A man that courld make my friend laugh couldn't be all bad.

Lauri, Me and Husband's Fun Nebraska Pickup

Somewhere in those years I heard a speaker say, “Everyone needs a safe person to listen to them.  A trusted individual that will allow one to run off at the mouth and they continue to love you anyway.” 

Do you remember when Husband showed up with huge plastic ears for you? He knew the importance of you being in my life in those tumultuous years. 

God placed you in my world, my precious friend. You are my third ear.

When I wrote this letter we'd been married forty-three years. Husband had recovered from his breakdown and truly listened to me.   

Thank you for loving both of us,

Kat

Special note for my readers: Husband and I celebrated our 50^th wedding anniversary before he died of a sudden heart attack in 2009. We enjoyed several trips from Nebraska to Oregon and Washington, along the way we stopped to see Lauri.

Lauri in Enterprise Park

Lauri in the Lodge at Enterprise Park where we ate lunch 

Four years after Gary's death,  Lauri became my driver.  She drove me over 1600 miles through the northwest while I spoke in places where Gary ministered. 

On our journey, I talked Lauri's ear off and you know what? She still likes me.J

Learn to Breathe Again

"Three days, three weeks, three months," an unemotional oncologist diagnosed my husband’s condition. "Our team of researchers has found no treatment for Pseudomyxoma Peritonei—PMP is a rare cancer."

The oncologist did not examine me, the wife. But from the first prediction of my husband's numbered days, my form of cancer titled fear began its deterioration on my health. Fear ate at my insides constantly.

A year later, Gary still alive, we found Dr. Brian Loggie, a PMP specialist, only five miles from our home. He performed a 12 hour surgery on Gary in February 2004. In the months following, Gary limped around like a weak puppy until Dr. Loggie suggested he ride a bike. 

By the end of that summer, Gary rode his bike 25 miles a day. His activity helped chase away my fear—I knew he’d live forever.

Fast forward to Thanksgiving 2009: Gary died suddenly of a heart attack. Now I faced a new me, a single woman in a couple’s world. A different me also battling breast cancer alone.

Fear of my financial future crippled me. I let my singlehood leave me vulnerable. The aftermath of breast cancer surgery kept me physically distraught. And my grief overwhelmed me.

To survive I realized I needed to face life. Others have survived alone and left their fears behind. 

My advice to me and others: 

Challenge yourself to face each day with a smile.

Allow yourself to learn new things and breathe again. 

Praise God for each breath you take.

“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.”

Psalm 150:6 NIV

More of Gary's PMP story is found in 

Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers 

(found on Amazon)

Photo by Ali Yahya on Unsplash

Buckets of Hope Arrived

Third Book by Kat Crawford 

How exciting to receive the shipment of 

Buckets of Hope:

Recovery from Grief 

and Loss.

Yes, truly there is moving on after struggling with the changes in life. Not only the loss of my husband but the move from all I had known for twenty-four years, to a new residence in Oregon. Life has changed and you find many of those changes recorded in this, my third book. 

It is hard to believe that in 2009 I published my first book: 

Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers. 

My husband's journey through PMP (Pseudomyxoma Peritonei-cancer of the appendix) fueled the stories of his survival and my caregiving. Even today I wonder how we managed through those horrific days when doctors offered no treatment, no medication, and no hope. 

In 2017 I published:

Dew Drops of Hope: Help for Those Going Through Grief and Loss

My good friend Shirl Hart going through her own journey of grief after her husband of fifty-eights had died, encouraged me to write Dew Drops. I agreed to compile the book if she joined me, and she did. Together with other friends, we brought our stories of survival after a loss. 

All three books are available 

on Amazon.com 

Over the next few weeks, I will share stories of healing, of surviving, of finding hope while going through a major crisis. The stories are real-life glimpses into the lives of those who have been challenged and have witnessed the Hand of God at work in their lives. 

I remain Lionhearted in my everyday journey. 

Chicken Soup Book Signing Sat May 11

The Lionhearted Kat Crawford 

Book signing event:

Chicken Soup: 

Mom Knows Best 

at 

Rainbow West Christian Supply

Valley River Center Mall

550 Valley River Center, Eugene, OR 

Saturday, May 11th

11 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Also 

Kat is signing her book:

Dew Drops of Hope: Help for Those Going Through Grief and Loss

Stop by and say Hello

Hear about Kat's next book coming soon:

Buckets of Hope: 

Recovery from Grief and Loss 

Celebrate Freedom to Worship

Deposit Photo 

“I have a paid holiday tomorrow,” my daughter said.

“Which one?” her husband asked.           

“Good Friday before Easter.”

“What is good about Jesus dying?” He frowned.

That is the question, isn’t it? We don’t celebrate the horror of His death, but the wonder of his sacrifice to save us from sin.

Praise the Lord we still have the freedom to celebrate. To participate in Good Friday and share how Jesus suffered and died for my sins and yours.

I praise the Lord for that freedom today. Not everyone can read scripture or even talk about the fact that God sent His only son to die to save us from sin.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 (NIV)

The portrait looks like the one hanging in my home. My mother-in-law gave it to my husband and me for our wedding—that was 60 years ago. Not an expensive picture or frame, but invaluable in reminder. One of the best things Gary’s mother ever did for us. 

Kat the Writer

Handy Tip from the Lionhearted Kat:

A Lion is a lion is a lion, no matter whether awake or sleeping—

basking in the sunlight or hunting in the dark of night.

“Well, I’d like to be a writer,” a woman said to me at Wordsowers Christian Writers Conference.

“Would like to be? You must be a writer if you are attending a conference,” I said. “What have you written?”

“I just write a short devotional for the church newsletter. I’ve never really published….”

Yeah, well, can you see me? I grabbed her arms. “You are a writer. You are even published. Your newsletter is read by how many?”

Funny, I recalled Debbie Hedstrom from Oregon Christian Writers saying about the same words to me years before. I sat in awe of Debbie—a well-published author.

Up to then, I’d written many devotions for the women in our churches—the three churches where my husband pastored. I never ever gave myself the title “Writer” or “Author.”

After Debbie’s encouragement, I started writing for publication. My friend Bev and I attended a conference where we invited workshop leaders, Steve and Janet Bly to lunch with us. (Yes, we paid for their lunches😊

Janet read one of my stories and said, “I would suggest you change the title to "Secret, Secret Sister and then send this to STANDARD Sunday School handout. You are a good writer.” I did send my story to STANDARD. It published in 1992. 

Wow, what high praise. But guess what? It took four more years before I became wise enough to have business cards made that said, “Kat Crawford, Freelance Author.”

I’m not a wealthy writer, but I know God chose me to share His Word with others. What about you—do you have business cards yet?  

(Please note, This isn't an ad for Vista Print, but I've used their services for years and I am happy with the quality, the level of service and pricing.)
Oh and about "Secret, Secret Sister," I did send my story to STANDARD. It published in 1992. 

Lionhearted Kat the Writer

I Am one Beat Up Rejected Lion 

Most know me as the Lionhearted Kat, but that happened later in life. In 2006 I did feel like this rejected lion. Then someone suggested each writer try for twice as many rejections. The next year I did and guess what? I sold twice as much too. If you submit more, you sell more and sometimes you receive a rejection or two. 

All these years later I've published two books  Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers and my latest book: 

Dew Drops of Hope: Help for Those Going Through Grief and Loss 

And I write for many publications, too.  

My motto: 

YOU CANNOT SELL WHAT YOU DON'T SUBMIT!

A Little Older, Worn Out and Loved

Rocky reading my Bible on the patio

Several years ago husband build us an enclosed patio with a pond and a fountain. There were many reasons for the enclosure. We hid from the neighbors. I wouldn't lay in the sun when the neighbors could see me. The enclosure gave us the feel of being away from home. The pond and fountain brought a soothing quiet to our day. We enjoyed our time of togetherness-sometimes I slept on the swing and he snoozed on a lounge chair. Awe, peacefulness. Then husband died. For six years I did nothing inside that patio except let the weeds grow. This spring friend Pebbles said, "This is such a haven." With her encouragement and help, the weeds are gone. Pebbles planted my tree and two lilac bushes and I added succulents in the planter.

Of course, a patio needs a table and chairs-I'd given away the beautiful swing and thrown out the messed up lounge chair.

To several friends I said, "I need a table and chairs for the patio...cheap or free." Sure enough, Jake and Jeanie found this, picked it up and delivered it to me.

"I'm so sorry we didn't see the scratches in the glass," Jeanie said.

You know I'm thrilled with this set, the umbrella works great, the chairs are comfy and Rocky and I don't care about the scratches. If we have visitors we can use a table cloth, but then our dishes will cover the worn spots and no one will notice.

In the cool of the morning, we do have those once in awhile in Omaha, I enjoy sitting on the almost forgotten patio, drink coffee and read my Bible. Rocky nudges my arm and then wanders off to try and catch a bird or two while they play in a tree outside his reach.

My first tomato this season

Today I say thank you for the gifts of love: Husband for the patio years ago, Pebbles for reminding me to enjoy the sanctuary and her help in the renewal of the space. Thank you to Jake and Jeanie, too. My table and chairs are a treasure. I’ve decided they are like me—a little older, a bit worn, but those who care about me overlook those scratches and wrinkles and love me anyway.

Photo by Pat Mingarelli 

And guess what? My guests will have homegrown tomatoes from my flourishing tomato bush.  Sign me: Still Lionhearted, Kat

Pasquale (Pat) is with Wordsowers Christian Writers.  Check out his photography if you are interested in a new headshot for your author page or business cards. 

Don't forget the July 28, 2016 is another time for writers to come together for a monthly meeting at the Swanson's Library, 6-7:45 with an afterglow (fun get together) at Village Inn on 79th and Dodge following. 

How Did I Survive Diapers and Kid Schedules?

Paddy Dog Ready to Race after a Rabbit 

Paddy Awfulous O’Reilly died in August 2013, only a day before his fourteenth birthday. After spending those last minutes crying over him, I said I’d never have another dog.  Husband always did the potty training and the exercise with the dogs we owned, besides, it takes a lot of time to take care of a dog. 

We all know, you don’t ever say never, right?

When the young man stood at my doorstep and said, “I’ve got to get rid of Buddy, but I don’t want him to go to just anyone,” I still didn’t want a dog. But then I’d always said, “If I ever did get another dog, it would be a Border Collie. They are so smart.” For months after Savannah heard me talk about Border collie she sent me pictures of BC puppies. None of them tempted me.

But Buddy (now Rocky Balboa) from next door, well, he wormed his way into my heart in minutes. He’s such a good dog, gentle for his 75 pounds and he’s good company.

Somehow in the three years between Paddy’s death and Rocky’s in, I forgot big dogs shed.  They play in our backyard and drag in dirt and muddy footprints.  They demand food and water. They need space to pooh in the backyard—and since husband isn’t here, I’m the number one pooper-scooper-picker-upper.  (Yes, I have a plastic gizmo, but the smell in the heat gags me. How did I survive diapers with three kids?)

It’s now seven weeks since Rocky moved in. I still have a box on the couch—yes he tried couch sleeping. The TV room has three stuffed toys and a dog bone right in the pathway from Front Parlor to kitchen—yes, that’s his play area. Every morning instead of sitting in my comfy recliner I sit on the floor with a lap robe over me. Rocky snuggles next to me while I read my Bible—he likes his comfy, next to Mom time.

Sometime each day I remind Rocky he is a gift to me from God. He is lots of work. We don’t have a real schedule to get all his mess cleaned up yet, but he’s company. He came already trained and he’s big enough to scare away most burglars.  

Unforgiveness grows like the Kudza Vine

These story telling moments are not perfection, they are meant for me to share with you—heart to heart. Like if you were sitting in my living room. Well, actually, we’d probably sit on the glassed in front porch or my enclosed deck with a wonderful patio table, chairs and umbrella.

Kudza covering my trees while
I partied in Hawaii. 

I mentioned my tear filled day a few days ago. It truly happened because someone overheard their name mentioned and asked another person what I said. It all grew huge like Kudza vine that covers my trees in ten days or less. 

At my age I know better than to say the name of someone if I haven’t said what I plan to say to that person—does that make sense? Hope so. I’m in a hurry. But fact is I did speak without thinking about how my words could hurt.

If you don't know about Kudza, it takes over whole yards and houses if left alone. Well, I didn’t know if anyone knew anything about anything about what I said, but I knew I knew and I better stop the vine before it covered my friend. 

On the tear jerker day I tried to talk one on one with her. It didn’t turn out well. I prayed, cried and felt bad all weekend.

The next week I asked one of the powers that be to listen in while I spoke with my friend. I apologized and asked forgiveness. My once good friend spilled her anger. The anger steamed, but I could also see the pain and hurt I’d caused her. She finally said, “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

The wise man, the powers that be person said, “When my wife and I disagree and can’t find an answer, we stop and say, 'Can we just start over.'" He looked at both of us. “I can see how you are both right and both wrong, but you are kindred spirits, believers in the Lord.”

My friend said she’d felt miserable all weekend and agreed scrub the Kudza at the roots and start our friendship over- to forgive and go forward. She hugged me. We both cried.

The Lord’s Prayer talks about forgiveness. The Message Bible says, Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others. Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.  Matthew 6:12

The good news is, neither of us let this fester into a vine seeking to destroy us. e both knew we needed to pray and seek God’s guidance. You know forgiveness is such a big load lifter. 

Still Lionhearted, Kat

PS In 2010 I flew to Oregon with my mother. Kudza vine covered every bit of fence around my house. I paid Savannah and her friend to pull the vines down. They tagged it "The Devil Vine." Good analogy, huh? 

Mother's Day Quilt and Workplace Missions

Mother's Day 

For Mother’s Day my daughters blessed me with a wonderful quilt and quilted shams. From the photo you can see the wallpaper and quilt don’t complement each other. The first night sleeping with the wonderous quilt I decided I’d paint the walls, but what color? White is blah.

The old drapes match the wallpaper so well, I hated to change anything. Years ago we tagged the bedroom “The Beautiful room.” Did I really want to paint and throw away the drapes?

In bedroom 

A week later I asked Marcy, “Okay, I’ve got to paint, but what color do I paint the walls?” She never gave me an answer, but one of those light bulb moments popped into my mind. “Why not change rooms? The guest-Savannah’s room has white walls and white sheers.”

See the underside pattern? 

With the help of two men, the beds were changed out and the beautiful room is still old-fashioned looking and will offer guests a great sleepover. (If I ever have guests.)

In my new room with the gorgeous quilt, two plants found a home on a bookshelf in front of the south windows. Lovely. Only life happens in spite of glorious gifts and change.

A few days after the move, I listened to Dr. Chuck Swindoll give a great message on my way to work. After I locked the car doors, I sent a prayer heavenward, “Lord, help me in my work place. Give me the heart of a missionary.”

Something inside of me broke loose. By the time I reached my desk tears threatened Why? I felt overwhelmed trying to hold back the crack in the dam. Yes, I’ve spent more money than usual in the last few months with the yard work and changes in the house, but hey, I’m living in the moment. I can save everything and not have fun or I can trust God, be diligent with my finances and enjoy life.

My emotions had nothing to do with bedrooms, changes or finances. I’d asked God to give me a missionary heart, one that cares about others, especially those I work alongside. My heart broke because I knew one of those friends in my workplace felt angry with me.

I emailed my daughters, telling them little about the circumstances, asking them to pray for me.

In only a short time I received an email from Marcy:

I will pray for you today. I have a card in my cube my mother gave me that says, “Hello this is God, I will be handling all of your problems and concerns today. That is my job. Your job is to give them to me, and then trust me.”

I replied, “Tell your mother she’s a smart woman and thank you for sharing with me.” 

Keep reading to find the answer to the problem I faced. 

My New Life with Rocky Balboa Crawford

 I figured out this week I must live for 200 years to get every fun thing I want to enjoy finished before I die. Yikes.

For those of you behind in the Lionhearted Kat world, I am the proud Mom of an eleven month old puppy. For those who know me well, you understand that after our Paddy dog died I said, “No more dogs ever again.” Well this is all Savannah’s fault and yes, she said I could blame her.

Our neighbors brought home a puppy on May 9^, 2015. They housebroke him, trained him quite well and then needed him out of their crowded house. The young man asked me if Savannah might want their “Buddy.” Nope. That isn’t possible, she already has Snookie dog.

I texted Savannah. Do I want Buddy? She texted, “Yes, yes, yes.” And continued to text me until I said I’d pray about another dog in my house. I’m not sure what the Lord said, but I finally said, “I’ll keep the dog overnight and see what happens.”

We neither one slept, but one night isn’t enough to try anything. By the second day I fell in love with the big black German Shepherd/Border Collie mix almost bigger than me. Daughter Marcy saw a photo and said, “If Dad were here, he’d name him Rocky.” So now Rocky Balboa Crawford and me are totally bonded and in love forever.

I told the neighbors, “I’m not sure if you owe me because I took your dog or if I owe you. You raised this puppy through the worst of the worst and I now am enjoying Rocky. He’s such good company.”

If you are interested in the rest of the dog story and my life full of fun, stop back again. I’ll share how God has blessed me over and over again.

Still Lionhearted, Kat 

Rocky Balboa Crawford
German Shepher/Border Collie Mix 

Merry Christmas to All and a Great New Year

Can’t believe we have a snow free December. Oh, we had what Dad called a skiff of snow, but not enough to create a snowman. Along with no snow, Christmas will be different this year. Simple. Savannah will spend the day with Grandma (read on to find out why.)

It’s been a very good year. In December 2013 my eye doctor, Dr. Patti Fries at UNMC fitted me with wonderful

contacts. I tell you, to go from not seeing well to having 20/25 vision, being able to drive in the rain, the snow and even at night seemed like a Christmas miracle.

I’m one of the Leadership Team for Wordsowers Christian Writers. We held our second conference in March. Phil and Pam Morgan were our keynote speakers. Stephanie Grace Whitson is our keynote speaker for our 2015 conference.

In April I flew to Oregon where I spent fab time with family in Eugene and Medford. Creating Memories for Disabled Children  I've written stories about Creating Memories also with photos of the cabins at Ashley's Park.

I also met made new friends. Enoch Stalcup and his mother Angel drove from Estacada to meet me. Enoch created the website for

On June 8^th I shared in our worship service, “I read the Prayer of Jabez

once more and feel I am challenged to broaden my ministry.” The next day I saw Dr. Fries again—my world shrunk. The doctor took away my wonderful contacts. The right one had rubbed on my cornea transplant.  Read more about transplants here

Battled poison ivy this summer...worst ever. Flew to Oregon (still had PI blisters) for the Leaton Family Reunion, time with family and had breakfast with the 1959 Alumni. Spent almost a month there.

In September two friends from church, Reta and JoAn flew with me to Oahu, Hawii. We stayed with another friend from our church Hazel and her daughter. Jeanie. What an awesome ten days

ACCEPT THIS DANDELION COVER REVEAL

Today is

the Big

Cover Reveal

Day

for

Brooke Williams latest book coming soon. 

Watch for

book review

in February.

Want to know more about Brooke and her previous books: 

Visit her website

Authorbrookewilliams.com 

Brooke is a member of Wordsowers Christian Writers. If you want to know more about Wordsowers, visit their website and read all about 

Wordsowers Conference coming in April. 

Congratulations PMP Survivor Micheal Smith

A few days ago I posted a photo of Bob Peterson, our number one helper in finding Dr. Brian Loggie. Then I posted a photo of husband in his biking outfit: Dr. Loggie’s called husband his Poster Boy. (I did, too.) 

Before PMP I said to a friend, “My life is a box. I go to work and come home. Everything is routine.” She told me to read the Prayerof Jabez and ask God to broaden my ministry—I did.

Look what happened.

PMP patients, Dr. Loggie and Me 

In 2005 Sandy Smith from Seattle, Washington emailed me. After I shared husband’s journey she asked for information about the Hallelujah Acres Healthy Diet  (vegan diet) husband used before finding Dr. Loggie.

Michael Smith after surgery with nurse 2005

Sandy sent me the photo of Michael after surgery and now look at him nine years later. He's the picture of health. congratulations to Michael.

You look great Michael and you, too, wonderful caregiver Sandy. 

Sandy and Michael Smith, nine years after Michael's MOAS PMP surgery. 

More info on PMP and being a caregiver can be found in my book:   

Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers

Dr. Brian Loggie, MD 

The foreward is by Dr. Brian Loggie 

And yes, I'm Still the Lionhearted Kat 

Dr. Brian Loggie's PMP Poster Boy

Desperate for information about Psuedomyxoma Peritonei (PMP) in November 2003, I sent a desperate message to a website where the creator of the website had not posted since 1998. I hoped someone might read my post and respond.

Bob Peterson emailed me. He invited me to the PMPbellybuttons@yahoogroups.com. I was the 17^th person to sign up for the group and Bob became our encourager.

Sometime before husband’s surgery in 2004, Bob flew into Omaha for his checkup with Dr. Brian Loggie at Creighton Medical. Bob invited husband and me for dinner. Bless his heart, Bob didn’t know how financially strapped we were by then and he paid for the meal. 

A professional phot of Dr. Brian Loggie

Bob encouraged Gary (husband) to trust Dr. Loggie. He shared his own PMP journey with us. How he’d followed Dr. Loggie from one location to the next because of the doctor’s expertise. 

Gary did have surgery in February 2004, the week after our 43^rd wedding anniversary.

Two memorable incidents before husband’s surgery:

A sweet nurse rolled husband toward surgery. “Oh, Mr. Crawford, you have such pearly white teeth.”

Husband popped out his teeth and handed them toward her. “You wanna use them? I won’t need them for awhile.

The second, when husband looked at Dr. Loggie and said, “Doc, I do believe you will see a miracle today.”

When prepped for surgery we were told it would take somewhere  between 13-17 hours, but nine hours after they wheeled husband away, Dr. Loggie showed up. He grinned at me.

Dr. Loggie's poster boy, Gary Crawford

“Mrs. Crawford, I do believe I’ve seen a miracle—I believe we removed every bit of PMP cells.”  

More of this story is found on my "More Than a Caregiver" website and in my book Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers.\

Husband lived seven more years (to the day from the first time he told me he had a problem). He did not die of PMP. My dear hubby of almost 51 years died of a sudden heart attack. 

It's hard to believe November 25, 2009 will be five years since husband died.

I first set my cap for Gary L. Crawford at Bible School at age 10. That’s lots of years to love one of God’s chosen people.