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

Sharon Understands What I Can't See

Sharon Bushey 

Sharon Bushey and I met at HACWN last year and I bought her book, Meagan’s Heart, a true miracle story. This year Sharon became a miracle in my world when she sat by me at the Friday night dinner.

By Sharon Bushey 

In a  few minutes we reminded each other of our connections. Her husband, a Church of the Nazarene minister, retired from ministry at age 55. They didn’t know the problem at that moment, but soon learned he had Lyme’s Disease and almost died. Today he’s in remission.

My husband retired from being a Nazarene pastor at age 53 because of an physical, emotional and spiritual breakdown. He did recover from the breakdown and God used him until he died at age 70.

After a few mouthfuls of wonderous food, Sharen said, "“I heard you were having problems with your eyes. What’s happening?”

“I have double cornea transplants—”

“So do I,” Sharon said.

“You do? I’ve never talked with anyone in my situation.” I felt tears filling my eyes. In a few words I filled her in on the history. Transplants, infections, laser surgeries, glasses that left me unable to drive at night or in the rain and then how chemo left me unable to drive again.

 “In 2012 the eye doctor said, ‘I can’t help you, but I know who can.” He sent me to a doctor who fitted me with hard contacts.”

“I wear contacts also.” Sharon smiled at me.

“Really? But you wear glasses.”

We chewed over why the glasses and then I finished my latest problem. “Last Friday the latest contact ordered did not fit. The doctor said she’s out of options and going to consult with another specialist. Maybe laser treatment or surgery might help.”

“A year ago my eye doctor told me I’d need a new transplant in one eye,” Sharon said. “He suggested I needed surgery for a disease in the other.”

I can’t remember who Sharon said prayed for her….but no surgeries were required until recently when the doctor removed an old stitch still in her eye from years ago.  

Tears kept pooling in my eyes. “Sharon, you know what I can’t see. No one else truly understands.”

Even while I write this I know God placed Sharon in the empty chair next to me.

“There was a time when a woman in our church got mad at me because I didn’t recognize her.” Sharon’s voice escalated. “I couldn’t see her. For nine months I walked around legally blind.”

“It’s so hard to even grocery shop,” I said. “All the people walking around make me dizzy. Even here in the hallways at HACWN I want to barf. (Yes, I know I should use vomit, but barf is what my stomach feels.)  

Pat Mingarelli snapped this photo in 2011, Even with glasses I didn't see well. 

Sharon assured me she would pray for me. The next morning my sweet friend

Sally Danley, the registrar for the HACWN writers conference, prayed over me while Norma Donavan, Teresa Tierney and Jeanie Jacobson placed their hands on me and joined her in prayer.

For whatever reason, I’m not healed—yet. But we all know God’s timing is for a purpose. I choose Joy on this Journey while I wait for the medical world to decide what’s next.

Still Lionhearted, Kat

PS I do have a contact for my right eye that gives me enough vision to drive on a sunny day and to work for a few hours. Unfortunately, the prescription is only a bit better than my glasses and it’s the best that can be done.  

A Non-Ordinary Day

Don’t let anything be ordinary is the sign on my monitor at work. It’s been there for years and is looking pretty beat up. The message is still clear.

Last week I defintely experiened an UNORDINARY day. I felt grungy, weepy and fine. 

When I worked in a counseling center years ago a therapist enlightened me on what fine actually means:  

"Fiercely Intentionally Naurotically Emotional."

After reading the sign and grumbling to myself, I walked into the company lunchroom.

"How are you? Tammy said,

"Do you really want to know or do you want me to say fine?"

"Fine will do, I think," Tammy said.

Sam stood at the sink rinsing a coffee cup. She laughed at Tammy.

"You do know what fine means, right?" I asked.

"The way you say it, I probably don't." Tammy said.

"Don't think you do, Tammy," Sam said. "Just the tone of her voice makes fine sound daunting." 

After I put my cup in the microwave I peeled off the words.” Fine is Fiercely Intentionally Neurotically Emotional. I’m too old to feel this way,” I said. “But you asked for fine. Have a great day gals.”

Neither of the two ran after me to find out why I felt fine or why I bothered to share with them. But then, they probably already received the email about my eyes—the one that said my work days will be erratic. I’m back to legally blind while my cornea transplant heals from the trauma and the eye specialist can fit me with a new set of contact lenses.

I wore patches over my eye for ages--my co-workers joined me. 

I’ve been through this before. It’s nothing new. Fuchs’ Dystrophy left me legally blind in 1999. An eye specialist said, “Well Mrs. Crawford, the bad news is you are legally blind. The good news is with cornea transplants you will see again.”

The doctor didn’t tell me what might happen after the transplants. How long they might last. How the transplant is a graph—like a thick scar and would leave me not feeling pain in my eyes until I’m really in trouble.

Of course, I didn’t ask those questions either. Had no idea the questions to ask.

Even my Team Leader wore a cute patch to support me. 

So why am I just fine? The doctor talked me into buying glasses last summer. “They will be a band aid on your Oregon trip.” I bought them. They lasted me three months—not even long enough to be fit with the contacts that give me miracle vision.

So what's my problem? Is it the expense? The length of time for fittings? The many doctor visits I face? Or the fact I’m measurably slowed down to a grinding halt and can't drive?

How about all the above….

Working on being Lionhearted through the process, Kat

Lion Soak by Savannah Wilkes 

Guess I'll soak my troubles away for the moment.

I've about soaked enough. I feel like a prune. Between the writing and the publishing I faced another glitch in my publication...oh well, it's me. Never late. Right on time.