Obama--My President

I can't remember when I have been more excited, more hopeful, more confident in our future as Americans as I have been since the world realized that for the next four years, Barack Obama will be the 44th President of the United States of America. I can't count the times I was moved to tears as Obama gave his acceptance speech--and I was equally moved by the final words of John McCain. In fact, I felt that it was McCain's finest hour, and one of the greatest speeches of this election time. He was all McCain, and he went out the true statesman that he is.

This election year, I wasn't concerned about making history. . ."the first Black man, the first female vice-president". I was more interested in getting the best person for the job. Gender and color shouldn't matter--and I think that the world is getting closer and closer to that ideal. The best person for the job was elected--and he happens to be black. I'll tell my Grandson Campbell about this night--and how important it was, but somehow, maybe the world will be so much better, that he won't understand how Americans had to fight and sacrifice to get to a place that future generations will probably take for granted. Hopefully none of the lines that separate us from each other, will be there when Campbell, and yes, Turner too, grow to manhood.

Our family gathered for prayer after the announcement that we had a new president. Terry gave the most beautiful, heartfelt prayer--asking for a blessing on our new President, his cabinet and this nation as well. It just felt right.

God bless America and President Obama, his wife and children.

TAH: Post-Op 3 weeks today . . .

Hey, that's what all the "sisters" say on the "Hyster-Sister" website. . . That's how you are identified, summed up, figured out and explained. . .

TAH stands for "total abdominal hysterectomy". I still don't know quite how to feel--even reading the name. You see, I agonized, as rarely I have before, whether to have this done to me. I had to trust other people (who sometimes weren't all that convincing) that it was the right thing to do. You say I have to have my uterus, cervix, ovaries, etc. out? Why can't I keep my ovaries? I hear that I need them until I die . . .who is telling the truth?

Okay, I forget--it doesn't really matter anymore--they are gone. The house I grew my babies in is gone. The almond-seed-sized laboratories of my libido are gone. All I have left are hopeful words, both spoken and written, that everything will be okay.

Right now, my "swelly-belly" is burning, sensitive to both pajamas and sheets. But I feel okay. I actually feel good. Tired, but better than I imagined. I am sick of "Lifetime" movies--but still look forward to the "Golden Girls" and "Will and Grace" and all the laughter I know that comes with them. I have a love-hate relationship with the TV. Books, my past salvation, are curiously harder to read and enjoy. I take photos of birds--I love birds--from my bed. Terry leaves birdseed out on the deck to draw them in. Jared bought me a book so that I can begin to know their names. I love waiting and watching for them. They have been my salvation.

I love prayer. Earnest prayer. And I love and am thankful for blessings. Blessings really do come true.

Did I tell you I have a "nanny"? I do, and Kelsey watches over me and little Campbell until Nana gets strong enough to watch him all by herself. What a guilty pleasure.