Minute Magazine September October 2013 by The Minute Magazine

SEPT / OCT 2013 Volume 8, Issue 16

FREE

magazine

3rd annual issue & event

sponsored by:

for Patients provide free travel by plane when needed for longer journeys to treatment.

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3rd Annual Wiggin Out --------------------------------

s I sit to write this article I find it very difficult to believe that I am writing about the 3rd annual Wiggin’Out issue and event. It is as if the last three years have just flown by.

treatments in about two weeks and wants to be prepared for the day a wig will become a part of her everyday wardrobe, a wig that Wiggin’Out has the privilege of purchasing. In the coming weeks I will write checks out to several people who are in various stages of treatment who need assistance for just about everything. Wiggin’Out is able to support these needs because of the generosity of our community. We have grown every year a little more than the last. We have helped a few more people every year. Please help spread the word about Wiggin’Out. It may be that you know someone who is fighting cancer and is in need of assistance, someone who would like a wig but maybe can’t afford one, or someone you know that has the means to support the organization monetarily. Please help us to continue to grow so that we can continue to help more and more people fighting cancer.

I am so proud to report that Wiggin’Out has continued to grow and this year is quickly proving to go above and beyond last year. I am fortunate to have met so many amazing people along this journey. I am humbled everyday at the people I see touched by the generosity of Wiggin’Out supporters. Because of those supporters I will meet a lady for the very first time tomorrow evening and visit with her while she Cancer is no respecter picks out her first wig. She of persons. It does not will be starting her chemo care if you are young, old, male, female. It does not

recognize race or religion. It wrecks havoc on the lives it touches and while Wiggin’Out can’t take it away we can provide a little sunshine in an otherwise gray time in someone’s life. I met a man just today whose mother has been battling cancer for 15 years. It is back again and because of the scar tissue from the previous 10 surgeries she has had, another operation may not even be possible. One would think this lady would be discouraged but according to her son she is a fighter and determined to push forward. She has a great support system and family there with her every step of the way. There are some who are not so fortunate. There is no gift too small. Every donation helps. It can provide a wig, pay an electric bill, buy a prescription not covered by insurance, a gas card to get back and forth to a doctors appointment, a hotel room for out of state treatments and so much more. It helps the Monroe based organization Pilots

Something you should know, the donations made to Wiggin’Out are primarily kept in Louisiana, particularly North Louisiana. You will however, read in this issue about Pink Heart Funds. The Wiggin’Out board has decided to support this Mississippi organization beginning this year after our event. While it is located in Mississippi it serves people all over the United States and is of course available to Louisiana residents. So pat yourselves on the back for a job well done. Wiggin’Out would not be where it is today without your support. If you are interested in donating please contact rustonwigginout@gmail. com or find us on facebook at www.facebook.com/ wiggin.out.la/info. Make plans to attend our 3rd annual event on October the 10th at Squire Creek Country Club. And by all means, start looking for your perfect wig for the evening, rumor has it there is going to be a contest for the best , most unique wig of the night. Your Wiggin’Out team thanks you and is so grateful for your support. We are here to serve you and yours. Do not hesitate to let us know what we can do for you or a loved one. To those fighting the fight, DON’T GIVE UP!

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am ordinary. If you asked my mother, she’d say differently, and I’d like to agree with her on the idea that I’m extraordinary, even if in my own thoughts and ways. But, I am ordinary. I am a face on the subway car, a blur in a lens, a dot on a map. I am flesh walking to work, a set of eyes viewing the world, a heart seeking love, a soul entangled in faith. I am all the things you are, and that makes me ordinary. I am the eldest of a sister and a brother. An aunt, a daughter, a niece, a grandbaby. I am a writer, a hater of coffee, a lover of laughing, a fan of football; I am a loud and forgiving just-trying-to-make-it 20-something. I met someone else just like me today, similar in all these traits. She is just like me, except an extraordinary version. You think your life is pretty ordinary until you wake up in the bed of an unfamiliar hospital room post emergency surgery. You think your life is pretty ordinary--the way sunlight blinds your eyes as you wake, the sound of cereal hitting your bowl as you pour, the daily drives to work, the monthly bills stacked neatly in your mailbox. You think your life is ordinary, and you wish it to be different, you wish for change to make it extraordinary. The buildings you pass, the railroad you cross, the people you frequent--we wish for extraordinary amongst all the ordinary. And then, as you lie amidst the coarse linens of a cold hospital bed with a fresh new scar across your stomach, you wish for all the ordinary back. It was July 6th 2011 when she woke up from the emergency surgery that had just removed her right ovary. Only hours before she sat in her doctor’s office as she explained the tumor that was wrapped around it. The doctor’s removed her organ and the tangled tumor, and instead of getting her release from the hospital and

returning to normal life, the doctor came in to tell her the tumor was malignant. She would have to undergo chemo or it would return. A week prior her life had been ordinary, full of simple traditions: an order from Johnny’s Pizza, cuddles with her baby nephew and sideline reporting on the local college team. She had planned for another ordinary fall filled with a 27th birthday and a season of football when she found out her ordinary world was about to change. It was just as she was welcoming her favorite season that she had to welcome a different season instead, a season of fighting a very rare and aggressive form of Hypercalcemic Ovarian Cancer. As a sports writer and avid fan, she had an instilled will to win, and she set out to defeat the disease that she named, ‘Chiquita.’ “I didn’t want to give it credit,” she explains, “the word cancer is just too scary and used too much.” So she reluctantly traded in football sidelines for hospital beds, batting averages for life percentages, and the fast lane for the slow lane all in the trek of killing ‘Chiquita’ and saving her life. Until you miss all the ordinary that made up your life, until you cross miles traveling to the best doctors and spend days in hospital beds and mornings discussing chemo outcomes and hours over a toilet unable to keep your food down, until your life becomes unordinary, you long for the life of ordinary. She remembers everything that forced her world into unordinary, all the details of her battle. She remembers MD Anderson: the sights, the smells, the sounds. The overwhelming size of the hospital and the amount of patients inside its corridors, her just one of the many.

The constant dryness in her throat, the stale taste of vomit on breath, the way skin bruised easily, the way hair felt between fingers as it fell out in clumps, the way wind felt against her bald head, the way taste buds couldn’t taste and wigs itched scalps--all the things that forced a life from ordinary to unordinary. She remembers holding on to all the things that motivated her to ‘Live another Day,’ knowing that she still hadn’t done everything she was meant to. She had people to meet, people to inspire, a nephew to hold, football games to watch, and sports to report on. She wanted her desk back, her seat back; she wanted her life back. “I was going to show ‘Chiquita’ who was boss.” And she did. November 2011 she rang the bell at MD Anderson as tradition of completing the final chemo treatment. Her nurse played, “Healed by the Blood of the Lamb” and she cried in celebration of her healing. It had been 5 exhausting months of tiredness, blood tests, needle injections, boredom, hospital rooms, and vomit. Five exhausting months of fighting for her life, and a battle she came out victorious in. Three weeks after finishing chemotherapy, her doctor walked into the exam room with the CT scan results – she was clear and deemed in remission. Sitting in the chair of her office on her first day back was liberating, “I opened up my top drawer of my desk and found my recorder. It was like finding a magic wand. And all was good with the world.” All was good with the world because it was back on the track of ordinary. And although cancer may have made her life unordinary, if you ask me, it made her extraordinary. Not just because she’s overcome a disease and lived through a horrifying experience, but because of the immense strength she kept throughout it all and continues to exhibit. In her extraordinary way, she has taught me that being ordinary is okay, being ordinary is a sought after commodity some can’t have. Tabby Soignier is just like me in many ways, the eldest of a sister and a brother, an aunt, a daughter, a niece, a grandbaby. She’s a writer, a lover of laughing, a fan of college football; she is a loud and forgiving just-tryingto-make-it 20-something. She is just like me, except an extraordinary version. An extraordinary story of a tumor tangled around an

ovary that was fought by a heart tangled in faith. An extraordinary testimony of God’s healing power, and an extraordinary reminder of how lucky your life is with just simple and ordinary every-days. I walk about the world an ordinary being, blending in on sidewalks, mixed into the masses; just another breath absorbing air, just another shadow on the street. I am ordinary in retrospect, and today, I realize that’s okay. Ordinary is all some people beg for.

Tabby and her Nephew

with fiberglass. Now, every time I see the “repair” in the bottom of the drawer, I think of my Dad.

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Thankful for the Ordinary --------------------------------

his year my mother & I didn't have the opportunity to go off on one of our "treasure hunts" aka: antique shopping trips for my birthday. Instead she came up and we spent the day just visiting and looking at photos from my recent trip to California. It seemed like just another "ordinary" day except for the beautiful bouquet of roses that mom surprised me with. Even though it was 2 weeks after my birthday, mom still wanted to do something "special" for me... since this was our "traditional mother/ daughter day" that we

spend together to celebrate my birthday. We laughed, we talked, we cried... we cherished every moment that we spent together. And as always...the time went by way too fast before it was late afternoon and she had to leave. That evening, as I prepared our supper, I got out an "ordinary" plain white bowl that belonged to my grandmother. I remember seeing my Granny use that bowl many times when I was growing up. Some of my favorite meals were served in that white bowl. I used to help set the table as my great aunt & grandmother would place the food in serving dishes on the table. After saying grace, everyone would help themselves to the wonderful home cooked meal that sat before us. I smiled as I reminisced about my childhood, my grandparents, and all the LOVE they “served” our family. And now, I use the same “ordinary” bowls to prepare meals for my little grandsons… and I

hope that after they are grown they will have fond memories of being gathered around our table. I have several other “ordinary” items that came from different family members. And whether it’s a teapot, a quilt, a vase, or even a piece of furniture… what makes these “ordinary” items unique are the people that owned them. Each time I use an item that I “inherited” I am reminded of the person who had it before me… and what that person means to me. I have an old chest-of-drawers that belonged to my Dad. It looks quite ordinary to the average person; but it is a treasure to me because of the “flaw” it has inside one of the drawers. There’s a coating of fiberglass that “patches” a crack in the bottom. When I first saw it… I wondered “what in the world” it was and I tried hard to scrape it out. Then I realized it was the “handy-work” of my Dad who knew how to work

They say that it’s the “little things in life that matter the most.” And I agree! I also believe it’s the ordinary things that have been a part of someone special, that make them “extra-ordinary” treasures. Even a day spent with the ones you love makes an ordinary day become a memorable one. My mom and I have talked on several occasions about all the “treasures” we’ve collected over the years. At first I told her that nothing would matter to me after she was gone. But my sweet mother gently reminded me to ENJOY the things we’ve collected and to treasure the memories we’ve made. Long after she’s gone, when I look at something that was hers… I’ll smile and remember that she was an “ordinary lady” that God chose to be my “extra-ordinary” mother. I am so thankful for all the “ordinary” things that God has given me… what BLESSINGS they are!

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called her while she was sitting in her van, parked outside the movie theatre after just dropping him off on his very first date. He is her first born, her only born, and all his firsts have been monumental. From his first steps to his first date, she has been there rooting for him all along, guiding feet and celebrating moments. Like tonight, as she celebrates another first for her son, a first she thought may never come 10 years ago when the doctor’s first diagnosed her baby boy with Stage 3-4 Burkitt’s Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. “Henry was just about to celebrate a 4th birthday,” she told me. “We were swinging on the swings, he wanted to show me how he could roar like a lion.” The roaring of a 3-year-old little lion led to the findings of huge puss growths in his throat. Just like any other Mom, an instant strike of fear hit, but as a United States marine, she assessed the situation without panicking. After

evaluations from pediatricians and a round of antibiotics, the puss disappeared, but the swelling still remained. Next was a visit to the ENT, a new dose of medication and a surgery to remove his tonsils. What should have been a regular surgery ended in very irregular results. The doctor had scraped lymphoma cells from his throat and needed to make sure there wasn’t more anywhere else. It was two weeks later when they found out both of his kidneys were full of cancer. “I just remember not liking shots,” Henry sums up his life as a 4-year-old and what he had to endure to fight the cancer. A fight that his parents made sure included the best treatments and doctors. “Both my husband and I are college educated,” Diane explains, “But when it came to cancer, we were ignorant.” Who isn’t until you're faced with it? Who isn’t until you look it in the face each morning? As it overtakes your roaring lion who's just learning how to piece together sentences, your little boy who just wants to swing and play but doesn’t even have the strength to sit up in bed. Once this happens, you become a source of knowledge for all types of cancer. “Treatments, medicines, conditions, prognoses. It took some time, but we found out every small detail of that particular cancer.” She explained, “We wanted to make sure our child was getting the best.” And they did.

The attributes of a marine can be listed in length; among them are the traits of endurance, unselfishness and courage. His mom held onto these on mornings of cleaning up throw up, on hours waiting on standby to see if he needed a trip to the ER, she held onto the strength that had made her a marine, and the love that made her a mom. She held onto these things, her faith in God, and the hand of her husband to get through the toughest time of her life. Henry was the son of two combat Marine officers; he was born with courage in his blood and determination in his veins, he was born a fighter. A roaring 4-year-old lion who fought through extreme sickness, blood transfusions, spinal taps, life support, and months spent in the emergency room. He fought and he roared, and he conquered his cancer. He lived through a first shot and a first chemo treatment. He lived through some excruciating and torturing months to get him to his first hospital visit of results that deemed him cancer free. He’s had 8 more positive results each year since then, and in the meantime has had first baseball gloves and first piano lessons. Now he gets first dates and first championships, first cars and first kills in hunting, and this fall, his first day of high school. High school that he already has credits towards, “I took 3 high-school classes this year,” as an eighth grader he means, “all advanced honors classes, and I will take college credits my senior year.” His doctors said all the chemotherapy he would endure could possibly deteriorate his brain functionality, but Henry is an exceptional kid; I guess that’s the outcome of two marines raising you and seeing to it that he always has the best. And being able to have the best has made him want the best for everyone else. He remembers his mom always with him and the kids in the hospital who didn’t have their mom with them, the ones who didn’t have a cure for their cancer. So he’s set out to help them, and others who are battling cancer, raising money through fundraisers and lawn mowing and bake sales and a potato stand. “My family owns a 5 generation potato farm in Maine,” his mom explained, so on his summer vacations to their lake house up north, and with the donation of potatoes from his uncle, Henry set up a self-serve potato stand. His efforts have raised money and a Relay for Life team all in the hopes of aiding those who have been diagnosed. “Henry knows no bias, he is so compassionate” his mother describes, and it is evident in his life. He is a teenage boy who loves LSU football, playing sports, and catching bass with his dad. But he is a teenage boy who uses the money he earns to donate to those he does not even know. He sells potatoes from a wheelbarrow, he mows lawns, and he organizes bake sales all to fight cancer. And what a great role model he is for us all, a roaring toddler who’s grown to an amazing teenager, welcoming firsts and celebrating each one as it comes. Henry Futch is a brilliant 14-year-old boy, the son of 2 marines, a defensive end in football, a pitcher and catcher in baseball, the survivor of a torturous disease, and a miracle we can all learn a lesson from.

Hope.

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every day to initiate & advance that relationship with God. Men spend a lot of time & work in this arena. Men take every opportunity to engage with God and to mirror Him. The world needs more men like this! Ladies, don’t date in the shallow end of the pool. You need to pray and wait on God to bring you a mature man. 9 out of 10 guys are boys. Men are a rare treasure. When you think you've found him, challenge him. See if he shrugs it off or if he says "challenge accepted!"

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Boy vs. Man -----------------------------------

e don’t have cable, so for the past couple of years I’ve been hearing about these duck guys on TV that have long hair, long beards, and somehow are really cool. Well, this past summer we visited my mother. She has cable. I now understand what everyone is talking about. These guys are a combination of hilarious, pure, and loving. Notice a negative there? There’s not one. This show is different from everything else on TV. Whether it’s reality TV or yet another CSI or law drama, we are bombarded with a combination of polluted imagination and falsities. That’s why these duck guys are more than just refreshing. There is a lack of real men in our society. Any guy can grow a beard when the time comes, but that doesn’t make you a man. Things like maturity, integrity, commitment, courage, and confidence are lacking in guys today.

These characteristics used to be the standard. Anyone who didn’t have these qualities were slugs and you didn’t associate with them. Today, many adult men in their twenties and thirties work just enough to get by and just long enough to get home to play video games. These are boys. Slugs. In the Bible in the book of Luke chapter 2 we see Jesus becoming a real man at 12 years old! Yet guys in our world today just love to play Peter Pan!

let’s bring the focus back squarely on the guys. Boys hear these challenges and think, “I don’t want to change. I can’t do that.” Men on the other hand see this challenge as an affront to their manhood, to the person that God has made them to be, of which they take incredibly seriously, and they set out not to just fulfill that challenge but to destroy it. Men love these challenges and deep down desire to be a beast of a man!

Now don’t let me seem like an old guy who sits around complaining about problems all day. I’m just setting up the problem. I challenge the men in my church constantly and I’d like to challenge you right now. And the things that I challenge men with aren’t necessarily just for men. I recognize and love the fact that I’m one of the only male writers in this magazine. I know I have to bring the testosterone to this flowery scented spread every edition in order to try to even out the demographic. But the same questions can be asked of the women. Are you a little girl or a lady? What are you doing with your life, with your time, with your money? Are you spending it on eternal things or for temporary, momentary things. But

These duck guys are such a great example of this in their own humorous way. Now, no one is perfect (and in no way should we put them on a pedestal) but compared to the rest of TV and the rest of the world it is hilarious and amazing that the example of manliness, family, and Godliness is revealed through guys with long hair hiding behind long beards! The reality of being a man is this – you can’t get manliness from anyone other than Jesus. I don’t know of anyone else who allowed Himself to be nailed to a cross for me and for you. I don’t know of anyone else who has the power to defeat death. Men look long term at who God wants them to be and what their life will look like in Jesus. Men take steps

Wives, you cannot let your husband be a boy. He cannot sit around idly. You need to challenge his manhood when you see him being a child. He needs to be productive. God created men to be the leaders of families & if we won't do it you have to. God wants men! Real men prioritize God 1st in their lives. They prioritize family 2nd and church 3rd. Hunting ducks, deer, and squirrel are 4th (but they sure are good!). A man is not a child. He doesn't do childish things. He takes, accepts, & embraces opportunities and responsibility in His life. This doesn’t come from a beard (though if the duck commander guys are ever in New Orleans I’ll give my service over to them!), it comes from a heart that has been made into a man by God. This man owns & dominates challenges with a love that reflects Jesus, possibly with a beard.

Jason McReynolds is the pastor of New Orleans Community Church. He and his wife, Liev, have three children. To learn more about him, or NOCC, visit: www.neworleans community church.com

Naya Summy 10

Tabby Soignier 28 Henry Futch 14

t was the most terrifying day of my life,” Wendy said to me over the telephone. “To not know whether your grandchild will be alive in the next minute or not is an experience there isn’t a word for.” Wendy Riddle-Henderson was trying to describe how she felt on September 29th, 2012, the day she flew in a helicopter with her two-year-old grandson, Landon, from St. George, Utah to Salt Lake City, Utah for fear that his swollen lymph nodes would explode. Only thirty days prior Landon was believed to be in perfect health after completing a routine wellness check. But during the last week of September, lymph nodes in Landon’s neck had begun to swell and he was admitted into the Emergency Room in St. George, Utah. At first, his condition was diagnosed as a virus, but as the swelling increased in not only his neck but in his groin, and as his health began to deteriorate rapidly, the hospital ran some x-rays and made a discovery. A discovery that led to Landon being Life-Flighted immediately to Salt Lake City in order to meet with a team of over twenty doctors and specialists. “Landon only had a ten percent chance of living through the first forty eight hours,” Wendy said. “The poor child wasn’t even with his mother, Sierra. She was in Georgia. But once we called her about Landon’s condition she flew to Salt Lake City without a second’s hesitation.” When Sierra arrived she found her son struggling to breath amid a tangle of tubes. The doctors informed them that Landon had severe Leukemia and they were doing everything in their power to save and stabilize him. “All we could do was pray,” Wendy said. “So we did. We prayed for a miracle.” And they got one. Though Landon was diagnosed with ALL Leukemia, he lived through the first forty-eight hours and stabilized during the next twelve days. At first, treatment consisted of injecting Chemo directly into his spine, but much more was needed to combat the cancer. So for the next 8 months, Landon’s family drove over 600 miles round trip from St. George to Salt Lake City for various treatments and procedures. Currently, Landon takes Chemo orally every day, along with prescribed steroids. His weight and mood and strength may vary, but his family’s devotion and love has never swayed. At least once every three weeks, the family must drive the 600 mile circuit so he can receive a lumbar puncture. However, while Landon’s condition has been improving, the family’s resources are continually dwindling. Landon’s insurance policy only covers medical expenses and none 26 of the thousands incurred by the costs of travel.

“But finances were a chance for another miracle,” Wendy said. “Four days after Landon’s diagnosis my good friend, Dawn Bauer, figured our family’s expenses would be on the rise, so she started a fundraiser called ‘Offer Hope for Landon’. Since it began, thousands of people have generously given of their time, prayer, energy, and money for Landon and my family. It’s been such an unbelievable blessing that I don’t even know where I could begin.” “That’s amazing,” I said. “It is,” she said. “But you know cancer is a brutal rollercoaster. Many wonderful things have happened but there are still days of darkness. Days where you can only grit your teeth and move on, like Landon does. Landon has been braver than all of us.” Bravery that I personally have been witness to these last nine months, from a distance, bravery of 3-year-old Landon fighting for his life, bravery from the Riddle family on this journey with their little boy. Stretches where you can almost feel their pain and anguish as they suffer alongside one another with the effects of cancer, but others where they seem to be brimming with strength and hope--bravery getting them through it all. As our conversation drew to a close, I wanted desperately to do something that would help. But all I had was words. “If there’s anything you ever need,” I said. “I’m always here.” “I know,” she said with joy in her voice. “You, and so many others.” I think about how much courage Landon must have to fight daily for his life. I think of his mother, Sierra, and his grandmother, Wendy, and all those who are part of Landon’s family, friends, and supporters. I think about bravery, and the example a 3-year-old little boy who has redefined it for me. I think of words, too, the words I will never be able to find to capture how Landon and his family took a seemingly hopeless situation and turned it into one of the most beautiful demonstrations of love I have ever seen. But then again, I’m reminded that words are never enough. Because when cancer occurs, it requires more than words. It demands action, from everyone, for it to truly be cured.

To find out how you can help or to show your support

OfferHopeForLandon

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Pukegate

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y brother is going to kill me for writing about this, but I feel I must. It may save a life. If you know him, you know he has an exceptionally weak stomach. He’s been plagued with it all his life. He can look, taste, smell or imagine something and it will make him sick. As the eldest child I always found it my duty to make sure he knew what he was doing and that he was doing it correctly. Some may call this “bossing”, but I choose to think of it as administrative correcting. I was older and it just was in my nature. I could talk him in to pretty much anything and everything. However, he did finally catch on and I had to come up with creative ways to entice him to do as I wanted.

Now on this particular day that comes to mind, I was feeling very sisterly and nice. I loved to read as a child and I read EVERYWHERE. I especially liked to read in the bathroom. It was quite and no one would bother me. On this day when I was feeling nice and sisterly, I was also feeling bored and lonely. I was reading and came up with the fantastic idea that I would read to Heath. The only problem with that is I was in the bathroom and well- I was using the bathroom. I called out to Heath and told him come on in here and I’d read to him. At first he said “NO!”, so I put a real sweet please on it. That didn’t seem to do the trick either. Then I told him I had a surprise for him. He was always a sucker for a surprise. He strolled on into bathroom and what happened next has gone down in the history of our family known as Pukegate. Apparently I had temporarily forgotten two things: 1. Heath had a weak stomach, and 2.

the bathroom – well it stinks. I didn’t even get into the story good when the gagging began. The gagging turned into full out vomiting. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but according to my mother I was “old enough to know better” but not old enough for my feet to touch the floor. The splatter of the vomit hitting the linoleum floor was something I’ll never forget. The heaving and heaving seemed as if it would never stop and the sea of vomit ran fast and furious towards my feet. I screamed for my mother in a fervent panic and as I did the smell hit me. The combination of the visual stimulation of the lake of chunky puke and the smell was too much to bear, I began to gag. Then, my one tiny toe that actually could touch the floor felt the warm regurgitated supper of my little brother and that was all it took. I threw up, and then Heath threw up. Then I threw up and again Heath threw up. It was like a disgusting contest.

Suddenly, the door burst open and there stood my horrified mother and grandmother! They stood in the threshold of the bathroom door looking at what must have been the something of out a movie scene. The look of horror quickly turned to anger and then to rage as she slowly pieced together what had happened. The rage was the only thing that could have made her dredge through the sloppy swampy mess and pluck my little brother (who was now sobbing) out without so much as a gag. Then she picked up my half naked little body by the arm, and drug me out of the bathroom. She demanded to know why on God’s green earth would I call him into the bathroom. Wasn’t it obvious? I wanted to share the love of reading with my little brother. I wanted to read him a book. I was trying to be nice like she told me to. And plus he wanted to come in. There will always be people that try to talk you into doing stupid things. They may even be someone you trust. Someone will tell you it’s fun, or that they might even have a surprise for you. My advice would be that if you come upon a situation that stinks, then you should just keep on walking. Don’t open the door and don’t go in – more than likely you’ll end up sick. Heart sick or stomach sick.

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om. That’s what the necklace draping her neck read, circled in diamonds shaped in a heart. Another diamond, secured around the ring finger of her left hand, an emblem of the day she became a wife. Dangling from her wrist, a bracelet full of charms: music notes, an angel, cancer ribbons, a cross, words of encouragement. The things she loves, the things she cares about and believes in, the things that make her her.

These are the moments, I’m reminded, these precious minutes filled with smiles and tears and untouchable love--these are the reasons why I fought. ____________________________________________

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? I go to Heaven?” She said to me with a big smile on her face, clutching a tissue as she dabbed the corners of her eyes, Mom. Wife. Friend. Believer.Cancer survivor. She wears drying tears before they dripped. her story, but listening to her tell it is even better… ____________________________________________ Tears and a smile, I realized as I sat across from her at our little table jotting down her words, tears and a smile This weekend I cradled my grandson in my arms for the were probably the perfect combination to describe her first time. A beautiful blue-eyed baby just minutes old but journey. Tears shed but a smile always worn as she a long-time loved. There’s something about welcoming a braved it all, holding on to her happiness even at her new life into the world that gives such over-whelming joy, saddest. especially as you hold your newborn grandbaby to your ____________________________________________ chest, feel the soft skin of his cheek against your face, and watch as he opens his eyes to a brand new life. I have always been a fairly emotional woman, perhaps I owe it to the high estrogen level consuming a house full Certain instances overload your soul, like 7 pounds of daughters or perhaps I just owe it to the happiness and 21 inches of pure joy wrapped up tightly in a cotton I have of serving a God who blesses me everyday. blanket, or watching as my youngest held her nephew Whatever it is, emotions run high in our small but closefor the first time and wept over him in gratitude of his life, knit home where hairbrushes, nail polish, clothes, and or as I held the hand of my daughter as I encouraged her bedrooms were shared. Tears too have always been a to breath and push. The cries of a tiny infant filled up a shared commodity that aren’t hard to come by; songs hospital room and filled up my heart. make us cry, commercials make us cry, sometimes even a burnt dinner after a long day makes me cry. However,

there is one thing to which I owe the majority of my tears, the word first thought as I sat in my quiet doctor’s office post-mammogram, the word confirmed days later postultrasound. Cancer. “I’m sorry but it’s cancer,” I tried to hold back the tears as I held the receiver to my ear, the words trickling through my phone and right down into my heart. I fought the tears as I dialed my daughter’s phones to tell them, I fought the tears as I sat with my girls and talked it through, as my husband held my hand through doctor’s appointments and details of lumpectomy’s and chemo treatments. I fought the tears until I fell apart in the company of my good friend and neighbor Marie. “Get your purse,” I will always remember her reaction to my diagnosis, “We’re going shopping.” That night we shopped for tiny clothes for a baby shower we had coming up, it couldn’t have been better timing, not that I saw my life as ending, but it was therapeutic focusing on a new life starting. That night we filled a shopping cart with clothes and that night my friend Marie filled my heart with joy as we sat on a bench indulging in $20 worth of ice cream, sharing conversation, laughter, and tears. Marie sat with me on a bench that night. She sat with me at my kitchen table many days, and by my hospital bed for most of my chemo treatments. You need people in your life at your side in tough times, but more importantly, you need God to get you through those tough times. Luckily, I had both. When friends and family weren’t seated beside me, God always was. It was in my quietest moments that I felt His presence, in my moments alone that Him and me worked through stuff. It was September when my treatments began, so the sun hadn’t quite risen on my morning commutes into work, but luckily the Son was fully raised in my heart. It was in these quiet dark mornings that I cried out to God, it was the time I was allowed to cry because I couldn’t at home, and God knew that, God knew I needed to be strong for my family. It was those moments in the quiet dark on the way to work that were the best part of my day. Sometimes the darkness is the best place to see the light, and there He’d meet me-reminding me that He was God and I was me, reminding me that He was in charge, reminding me of the people He’d placed in my life to help me, reminding me of all I had to be thankful for. And I had so much. During the entire length of my chemo treatments I was never sick, my appetite did not change, I never had to miss work, and the only symptom I ever had was the loss of energy, my taste buds, and my hair. It took six weeks until I woke up to my hair scattered across my pillow. I’ll never forget the phone call I made to my daughter asking her to shave my head that night, I cried the whole way to her salon and she cried the whole time as she shaved the rest off. “You’re still beautiful Mom,” she said through the tears, those were the words I reminded myself each morning as I slipped my wig over my bare head. I knew my hair would grow back, I knew my chemo treatments would end and my life would go back to normal, I knew I would get through it all, I didn’t want sympathy that didn’t belong to me. I knew people were watching me, noting my reactions, observing my journey. I knew God had a plan and I wanted to be used for His glory. I never asked what my chances were because I don’t believe

in chances, I have a date set in stone somewhere, its not going to change, and doctors don’t get to make that decision. I didn’t need to carry around a percentage in my head because I carry God in my heart. I didn’t need to carry around a doctor’s hypothetical outcome; instead I carried around a friend’s notebook of encouragement and the promise that God would never leave me. And He hasn’t. Today, I am cancer-free. I wouldn’t go back and undo any of it. I have deeper, richer, more meaningful relationships. I talk to everyone I meet now. I don’t sweat the small stuff, I don’t stress about much; I don’t have bad days anymore because I see the world a little differently. I have applied to classes to become a doula, a patient companion who serves as a life coach and helps those on hospice who have no one at their side. I want to love people into the Kingdom, share my faith with those who are close to eternity. I’ve seen and realized the impact how a life well lived can effect so many others, its empowering and exuberating. To live well and love every minute, even if its not the best minute. To watch a flower bloom, see a baby smile--I am so much more aware of everything around and its value. Sometimes, the worst thing that happens to you can also be the best thing that happens to you. I’ve been given the opportunity to share my faith with coworkers, encourage unbelievers, hear my girls tell me that I inspire them, a friend’s mother tell me I was her hero--what more could I ask for? Today, my hair has started to grow back, I’ve danced with my husband at our daughter’s wedding, watched another give birth, I’ve cradled a grandson in my arms, said good morning to a lot of sunrises and goodnights to the same sun set, I’ve driven to work in the dark and this fall, God-willing, I’ll welcome another season of dark mornings into my life, knowing each day, on each drive into work, that I can bear the darkness because I know the Light. I go back for my next annual mammogram in August, and will there be a little anxiety? Sure, but I will put it in its place ultimately knowing it’s a big God we serve and none of us get out alive. ____________________________________________ “The craziest thing was looking at my calendar and not seeing any doctor appointments coming up,” she said as she sipped the chocolate banana shake that she insisted we order. I scribbled her words down, swallowing the last sip of mine, “so what’d you do?” She wiped her eyes again, “well,” she laughed to herself, “I called my dentist.” I smiled at her with watering eyes. A mom, a wife, a grandma, a believer, a cancer survivor, and a woman that makes me proud to call a friend.

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f I'd had the chance to view the future from eighteen months ago I might have become catatonic from the sheer thought of the overwhelming changes that would soon take place in the life of our family. Most of us live our lives with the feeling that cancer is something that happens to other people. Eight months from our empty nest, our youngest daughter Lorelei was diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma (HL.) And believe me, when a child has cancer the whole family has cancer. Lorelei's first question on learning she had cancer was "Will I lose my hair?" (She was 17 with the most beautiful natural platinum blonde hair.) I could answer that one. "Yes, but it will grow back." Then she asked, "Will I ever be able to have a baby?" That one was harder. "No, likely not. But God builds families in lots of ways. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." If we come to it. "You have to be alive to have a baby" I think to myself but dare not say out loud. I didn't want Lorelei to realize this disease could possibly take her life. I wanted to pretend it was just an inconvenience. An interruption. The plan was to help her be positive and boot this cancer to the curb with enthusiasm and then get on with life. Life as we knew it. But life as we knew it was gone. Gone forever. And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. I don't think we really knew how to live until we got cancer.

• Most people (85%) with HL are cured with only two months of ABVD chemo. Lorelei's cancer was still very active after three months of treatment. Lorelei endured 6 months of ABVD chemotherapy. And still no remission. • Never fear, radiation will deal the final blow. We started the Proton therapy process in July 2012 but had the rug pulled out from under us when her tumor grew significantly in just 6 days during that time. • Changing gears we decided to do an autologous bone marrow stem cell transplant. We un-enrolled her from Skip this paragraph if you're in a hurry to get to the point. college and admitted her to the hospital for three rounds Basically, it's included here to document that our cancer of R-ICE chemo to get her tumor under "control" before journey has been a series of disappointments and big the transplant. Her tumor responded but not to the level of remission. changes to plans. • Lorelei spent much of October and November 2012

in the hospital with the autologous bone marrow stem cell transplant. She handled it well and we optimistically enrolled her in a local college for the spring 2013 semester so she'd be close when she did daily radiation. • A CT scan in December was supposed to declare her in remission but instead it showed growth in her tumor. Again. • Time to call in the big dogs. We trekked down to MD Anderson in Houston for some hope and second opinions. • In January she withdrew from college for the second time and began bio-immunotherapy with Brentuximab. • The PET scan in March showed the malignant activity in the tumor was decreasing so we did another two rounds. Even if it brought her completely into remission the MD Anderson experts still recommended a second transplant, this time from a donor. • Because of the early positive response to Brentuximab, everyone expected the PET scan in May to show all malignant activity gone. But it wasn't. In fact, her stubborn tumor had grown significantly in activity. No time to do the transplant. • Rush right into radiation. At least it would be proton radiation which would leave less collateral damage to other organs and we could do the transplant later. • Oh, bummer, Proton radiation won't work--the field is just too large. • Begin IMRT radiation in May and complete June 13. • PET scan at end of July showed less malignant activity but still a stubborn core of glow. • Begin Allogeneic bone marrow stem cell transplant in Houston July 16. (Presently undergoing.) That's a lot of disappointment. That's a lot of saying to God, "I know You have the power to heal Lorelei. I just don't understand why You haven't yet." The only hopeful thought that keeps me going is

that there may be a person we'll meet along the way who needs to be introduced to our Savior and we're the lucky ones to do it. I'd rather God use someone else, but I'll argue with God about that later. Most of the time I just pound on His chest in anger saying "God, I'm gonna fight you, but I want you to win." When your child has cancer everyone around you has the cure. Not a day goes by that I don't receive an email from a well-intentioned person with the cure for my daughter's cancer. People want to help. They don't really intend for you to feel guilty by their advice. But you will. You'll think your child's cancer is your fault; you caused it, if you let yourself. But it's not, and you didn't. And if someone really does have the cure for all cancer they are not keeping it a secret. Even big pharma executives have family members with cancer. Just gracefully receive words from these people and say "thank you for caring about us." Nobody will judge you if you don't take their advice. And if they do, they don't really need to be in your inner circle. Follow your instincts. God seems to put them in hyper drive when you first hear the C word. Life with cancer is full of blessings. You learn all sorts of wonderful stuff like: You actually like your family members. You don't have time for drama. It does take a village. Your neighbor makes the best casserole. A telephone or email "thank you" is acceptable; don't stress over Emily Post's rules. It's freeing to let someone help you but difficult for the chronically self-sufficient. Riding in a jeep with the doors of is easier when you're bald. Experiences are better investments than things. Everybody hurts, some of us just hurt more visibly. When you have the chance to play pool as a family, just do it. Hospitals will give you a discount if you ask. Say I love you every chance you can. Movies should come with a "C" rating in addition to the usual G, PG, PG13 and R. Doctors are people too. A clean house is not that big of a deal. Plans will be interrupted, just roll with it. Each day brings the potential of someone new and fascinating to meet. You'll be happier once you quit focusing on what you've lost and start focusing on what you have left. Cancer may be a gift in some ways, but please don't ever tell a family dealing with cancer, "God never gives you more than you can handle." Cancer is not from God. He didn't give it to us. Yes, He could have prevented it from happening but He didn't. The better thing to say is "God promises to give you the strength to handle any situation if you ask Him." Remind them that, "God will always work His purposes within a situation. It will be easier if you join Him instead of fighting Him." I don't know why God hasn't healed my daughter yet. I don't even know what that healing will look like. He may heal her ultimately through death. My hope and prayer is that she'll live many more years on this earth. One thing I know for certain is this; however many days we have left together, each will be better lived than if we'd never heard the C word. *Follow Lorelei’s journey at www.loreleidecker.com or on her facebook page, “Loving Lorelei.”

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person. An IEP is an Individualized Education Plan and if you have a child who receives special education services, you know this meeting well. It’s mandatory that you meet at least once a year but I assure you, I call these meetings at least four or five times per year. Here is a breakdown of usually happens: Inevitably, someone forgets to put something on the IEP or you run into teachers or staff who just refuse to do what the little paper says they should. Then you have to drag everybody but the Pope in to have a meeting. And I’m not kidding here – we’ve had as many as twenty people in an IEP meeting and only three of them are me, my husband and our advocate; the rest belong to the school system. It can feel very daunting. This is a sly way of bullying the parents into doing what they want you to do. Do not be daunted! If you do not feel what is being proposed is in your child’s best interest, you can disagree.

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wish I was one of those parents who get excited about the start of school after a long summer of having to entertain their kids. I really much prefer having to entertain my child than having to maneuver the battlefield of IEPs and special education services. AND we’re getting into unchartered territory this year with high school. I won’t lie; I am terrified. If you’ve haven’t ever had to attend an IEP meeting, consider yourself a lucky

After all, you’re the expert on your child. Oh, they’ll try to convince you that you’re not but stick to your guns. I was fortunate enough to find a program that gave me not only the information I needed to navigate the special education system but also the confidence to do it. Partners in PolicyMaking is a program hosted by the Louisiana Developmental Disabilities Council (www.laddc.org) that trains participants in Education, State Legislation, Federal Policy, Assistive Technology and what resources are out there for people with developmental disabilities. This training program is free of charge. Let me repeat that: FREE OF CHARGE. The sessions are in Baton Rouge, LA, once a month and are on the weekend (Friday & Saturday). The Council covers all expenses, including hotel, travel, meals and even respite care if you must leave your child in someone’s care while you attend. It is well worth it. I am a Partners in

If you find yourself feeling alone and overpowered by the school system, don’t be afraid to reach out and use the resources available. Take an advocate with you to meetings. I do even though I’ve had the training and I know the laws because when it’s your own child, it is very hard to take the emotion out of what is going on. My advocate is wonderful and she keeps me grounded and on track to making sure everything is covered. If nothing else, remember to put everything in that IEP. And if there is something you request and they refuse, tell them you want it put in writing in the IEP that you asked, they refused and what their reason is for refusing. Stand your ground – nobody will love our babies more than we do!

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e grew up in small town Nebraska, farming towns with a population of just over 1,000 where everyone knows everyone and secrets are hard to come by. It was only right we both ended up in the small city of Wood River, the type of place you hear about in movies with one red light and a downtown strip with a few local shops, a hardware store and a bank. This town is home though; it’s where we live and what we love and how we like it. Because while our city may not have much, it is filled with a community of friends, and sometimes, that is all you need. Heather and I were both small-town moms, raising kids on the farms that our husbands tilled and maintaining homes on our land. In our part of the country, families are a huge part of one another’s lives, neighbors are friends and farmers are brothers. I had known Heather for a while, we were both 30-something moms, taxiing our kids around who shared the same classrooms, married to husbands who shared the same livelihoods; we were similar in a lot of ways, but we didn’t realize just how much until May of 2007. My husband had a list of people to call, Matt was one of them. It was a phone call that changed my life, after the news that changed my life earlier that day. I had felt a lump on my breast, I wasn’t worried, I was 35, I had 3 little kids, I felt good; but to be precautionary, I scheduled an appointment to have it checked out and the results

weren’t good. I had Triple Negative Breast Cancer, a very rare form of infiltrating ductal carcinoma. When my husband called Matt, his response was completely different than all the others, his response was silence, followed by a, “you’re never going to believe this, (Heather has a lump as well).” And that is when two young moms and farmer’s wives of small town Nebraska became two cancer fighting best friends. It was a strange sisterhood, what happened to us, but strange is sometimes ironically what you need in the most difficult times of your life. Our diagnoses came within one week of each other, then scheduled surgeries to remove our breasts one month from each other, and chemo appointments just days apart. We had so much in common, from our families and our lives to the new focus of beating the cancer in our chests. Everything that would have been “mine” in the fight of cancer became “ours”--our shock, our symptoms, our surgeries, our sickness, our stages, our sadness. It was more than I could have asked for in my battle to fight, being able to share everything with someone so close to me. And we shared everything, a love of photography, a love for our children, our farms, and our husbands.

From trips to the swimming pool to picking out wigs together, everything was “ours”. She was a fashionista, I was plain in choice of style. She was a blonde, I a brunette. She had a sweet and passive personality while I was commanding and aggressive. My tumor was on the left, hers was on the right. These tiny differences were incomparable to our huge commonalities. We were destined to be best friends, sharing laughter and smiling for pictures by the pool, giving advice on doctors and medicines, listening to complaints about sickness and exhaustion.

chemo treatment when she started them again. It was only 17 months later the cancer took her life. We buried my best friend in February 2010. Although she was a part of my most difficult journey ever, she provided some of the greatest moments during it. It's so easy to hold onto the bad moments in life, but when you lose someone so close to you, you realize how important it is to grasp the good with all your might. So I clench the good with a grip that won’t let go, holding onto our phone calls and giggles shared over telephone lines. I hold onto the smiles posed in photos and the scarves and sunhats covering baldheads on a summer afternoon. I hold on to kids playing together and loud laughter on porches. I hold onto her legacy, and what she meant to me in this life. She’s my reason. My reason of why I got cancer. I was meant to be there for her. In some mystical and crafted sisterhood of two 30-something moms raising babies in the farmlands, a brunette and a blonde married to corn tillers were meant to find each other. I was her aid through her journey, and now she is my special angel.

We both traveled miles to our preferred hospitals for our treatments, but in many ways, we were the best treatments for each other. We helped each other through our lowest moments, through our saddest thoughts, and through our deepest fears. We helped each other through rounds of chemo and decisions to remove the breasts housing our tumors. We helped each other through frustrations of not being able to attend our children’s school functions or have enough energy to walk outside and retrieve the mail. We helped each other until our last chemo treatments, until we felt good again and heard I missed a whole summer of my kid’s lives while I fought our doctor’s tell us our tests were clean. alongside Heather in our battle; that was the hardest thing about my cancer. But Heather has to miss out the rest Our town hosts a celebratory race each year (Our town of her children’s lives. It’s not fair, and I cannot answer celebration “Fun Fest”). It had been a year since our why I am here and she’s not. I can’t relive the words of battles and Heather and I decided we were going to hearing that her cancer was back, or relive the moments take part in the race. A year before I didn’t have enough of burying her casket into the soil that cold February day. energy to get out bed; and now Heather had me training I don’t even like to celebrate my survivorship without her for a 5k. We were at the high school in town when she here. It all doesn’t make sense, and there’s not much I had me feel the lump underneath her clavicle. It was a can say. But what I can say is that I am blessed to have few weeks later that they biopsied the lump and deemed been chosen to help Heather through her journey, and I it a tumor, she was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer in am even more blessed that she was a part of mine. her lymph nodes. It had been 10 months since our last

At our house, we (myself included) need to do it right the first time. The consequences of a sloppy clean-up job? It must be redone until it is correct. This is how we become responsible adults. Rule #2: People are not for hurting.

especially since that manual on how-to-raise-ababy was never delivered by the stork.

In the Drewett house, this rule still applies. And it applies equally to ALL family members, not just the kids. After dinner, it’s your job to put away your dirty dishes in the dishwasher. It’s also your job to get dirty laundry to the laundry room, sort it in the proper basket, and spray stain remover on any spots that will need extra help. And when a child forgets to “put things away,” they get to wear dirty baseball So here are my Simple pants to a baseball game! Embarrassing? Yes. Rules for young and old. That consequence was a great reminder to get Rule #1: If you get it out, put it away. the baseball pants to the laundry room. I love this rule. Moms are not maids. And neither As my kids have grown are dads. Parents were older, the core intent designed to love and of the rule has become Older nurture their children, not responsibility. to pick up toys and tidy up children try to cut corners after their kids. Children when putting things away are fully capable of putting because they think they their own toys away as long have become smarter. as you provide a “place” You cannot see toys that for everything. It doesn’t are under the bed, right? need to be too intricate. But I’m no dummy. I know A couple of well-marked all the good hiding places crates or bins will do just and I check them regularly. I’ve

found during journey through motherhood that the howto manual, had it ever been written and published and delivered, would be pretty short. In it, you might find a few simple rules that are effective during both childhood and adulthood. A really good rule should transcend time. It should be simple. It should be concise. It should be easy to remember.

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The Three Simple Rules of Effective Parenting --------------------------------

’ve had many jobs in my life. Entrepreneur. Marketing professional. Piano teacher. Choir Director. Mentor. Coach. Fundraiser. Wife. Daughter. Friend. Each job, during different seasons of my life, has been tremendously rewarding. But I do have a favorite job of all these the job of mommy. As a parent, it is my job to prepare my kids for the big world out there. Teaching them to be selfsufficient, responsible, loving, and kind seems an overwhelming task,

fine. Be sure to label your containers and your child will start learning to sort while they clean up.

Originally, this rule was meant to explain to a child that biting, hitting, and hurting others was unacceptable behavior. But as children grow older and discover that words can be powerful, this rule still applies. I think grown-ups need to recite this rule often. When was the last time that hurtful words passed over your lips aimed at a family member, a friend, a spouse, or a child? It is so easy for anger to turn into hurtful words. And in a world where we are bombarded by stressful events, the people we love can quickly become our punching bags. As adults, respect is a required part of relationship. Without it, the hurt we inflict on others will turn us into very lonely people. Rule #3: Use your words. We must teach children to verbalize their requests rather than cry, scream, or (in the words of my grandmother) “Pitch A Fit”. Requests should always include please and be followed up with thank you. Helping my children bridge from fit-throwing to

effective communication is important to their future. As grownups, we need to remember to use our words, too, especially with written communication. So often, email requests can be misinterpreted if they are not framed with appropriate pleasantries such as Please and Thank You. The intent of this rule expands greatly for adults to include dialogue and communication as an important part of relationships. We cannot have a relationship with anyone unless we relate. In order to relate, we must communicate. We must use our words. In a nutshell, every issue in parenting a 2-year-old (or even a 10-year-old) can usually be resolved by applying one of the three rules. No matter what rules you choose to have in your household, keeping them simple and applicable to young or old will ensure that they are also effective. Cheers to raising responsible, respectful children who are good communicators. And cheers to remaining that way as adults.

-------------------------------Elizabeth Haynes Drewett is a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. She is Chief Creative Officer and Founder of SPRING Media USA, a boutique marketing

firm. She earned her BA in journalism from LSU and a BFA in piano performance from LA Tech. Sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s married to C.P. Drewett and mother to Langdon, age 14, and Reagan, age

8. Her favorite things? An underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. Follow her on Twitter @edrewett or Pinterest and see

what she's up to today. You can read her other writings and musings at www.springmediausa. com.

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skating aimlessly downward in a spiral of destruction. My life was a mess of chaos and pain, frustration and sorrow. I was a girl pulled apart from a broken home trying to find her way in a broken world. My skates helped me to escape this, introducing me to a life outside of the pain, welcoming me in from the evil corrupt temptations that engulfed my world, and ultimately leading me to a new world, a world full of acceptance and love, a world of forgiveness and mercy, a world of fresh starts and hopeful beginnings-a world with Steve.

Fast forward past my drug addiction, from a man who showed compassion and love to a lost girl and introduced me to his addiction: Jesus Christ. Fastforward 26 years to a house with two dogs, a minivan parked in the driveway, a lawn begging to be mowed. Fast forward past four pregnancies, each bringing a precious baby boy into the world. Fast forward to falling in love, with a God who never fails me, a husband who never gave up on me, four sons who changed me, and a life in a world that my happy family created, my world.

I met Steve working as the DJ at our town’s roller skating rink. I was a girl hooked on meth and he was a guy hooked on Jesus. In any other world, these two addictions would combust upon combining, but somehow in our tiny world of Modesto, California--a drug addict and a Jesus addict became friends.

Fast forward to now, as I see the grass peeking up above the stepping stones, as I set out one less dish at the dinner table, as I wear a wedding ring promised to a man who will never again be able to skate with me, or laugh with me, or hold me. Fast-forward to today, as I bare the title of a married woman, but a single mother.

hen I was 19, my roller skates were a big part of my life. Friday nights in a packed out rink, the sky blue speckled with silver boxes from the glistening and spinning disco ball overhead. Friday nights with my skates laced up, the smell of popcorn and sweat, hairspray and cologne, the mix of Rick Springfield and Bon Jovi blaring through DJ speakers. Friday nights to circle laps around the rink, Friday nights to practice roller hockey, and Friday nights to fall in love.

Someway, we created our own world of Steve and Cassy, two young hearts that clung together and grew together in love. The truth was that on weekends I skated confidently around that rink, but outside those walls, I was reluctantly skating through life, barely stable and constantly struggling to keep my balance. I was a reckless and broken soul

Yesterday marked the four-month anniversary of the day I sat in my mother-in-law’s living room and watched my husband take his last breath. Until you’ve held the hand of someone you love and watched as they slip away into eternity, you don’t know pain--but you also don’t know thankfulness. Gratitude for all you have doesn’t come until you’ve had much taken from you. I never thought at 45 years old I’d have to choose a gravestone, piece together words for an obituary, plan for a funeral service and select an appropriate casket all to bury the man I love. I never thought at 45 years old I’d be running kids to basketball practices and juggling school calendars and working a full time job while handling a sink full of dishes and baskets full

of dirty laundry and a trash full of garbage and a house full of boys--all on my own. I also never imagined that at 45 years old I’d have been witness to so much love in my life. It has been a battle, and I won’t pretend it’s been easy, but as my husband said when we first received the news, “I serve a God bigger than all of this.” And though He may not have cured Steve’s cancer, He has cured something even greater, my heart, and the hearts of many others whose lives Steve touched during his allotted time here. The news of Steve’s stage 4 Rectal-Colon Cancer came after months of nightly nausea, multiple hospital visits, and one long-overdue colonoscopy. When the surgeon called to deliver the prognosis, there was no good news attached to it. It was die in 3-6 months with no treatment, or live 18-24 months all while undergoing chemo. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make, but it was a difficult decision to hear. The news took my breath away, as if I’d been kicked hard and deep right in my gut, and then came the tears. My boys, I remember thinking, what am I going to tell my boys? “Dr. Patel,” Steve responded to the diagnosis, “I respect that you went to school, I respect that you know what you’re seeing and you know what you’re saying, but there is a God bigger than all of this.” These are the words we clung to over the course of the next 21 months. Through hours in a hospital chair each week undergoing chemotherapy, through days when he didn’t house enough energy to get out of bed, through long nights of sickness and early mornings of excruciating pain, through his loss of 60 pounds, a loss of mobility, strength, and pride, through questioning why us, why him, why me--we clung to these words-- “God is bigger”-- I still cling to these words. Things change your world. Careers, kids, marriages, a guy named Steve who played music with you at the local roller rink and challenged you to hockey matches after weekend shifts. People change your world; cancer changed mine. It took the man I fell in love with, my encouragement, the seat next to me in church, the man who picked me up from a downward slope and helped me to find smoother roads, holding my hand while we skated through life. It took my best friend. But it didn’t change my world just because it took my husband or my children’s father; it changed me because

it’s shown me the true love of Christ in people. Strangers who have paid our bills, women who have cooked us meals, our church that bought us a new car, a community that showed up on a random afternoon to build a wheel chair ramp for our home, an old boss who sent us on a trip to Disney Land to spend one last vacation together as a family, volunteers who’ve cleaned my house, families who’ve watched over my children, and a family of God from all over the world that teamed up together in prayer all in support of Steve and our family. Cancer changed my world; but Steve didn’t let it change his. He still drank his Mountain Dews, he still ate what he wanted and did what he wanted. He still woke up and got himself to work. Even through immense nausea and exhaustion, he wouldn’t let the cancer change who he was. He still kept his routine, serving as the Commander of Awana each Wednesday, as the sound booth technician in church each Sunday, and as his father’s football companion to cheer on their 49ers each game day. Steve knew cancer would take his life, but he refused to let it change his life. He shared Christ to all those he encountered, by not only having faith, but by showing faith in the way he lived, remaining a steadfast example of unconditional love. A love that reined so predominantly that I still feel it each day, as I look at our boys, as I pet our dogs, as I read scripture or listen to music. I feel his love as he keeps sending it down from Heaven. He spent his first birthday there without us last month, and soon we’ll be spending our first father’s day down here without him--these kinds of days are tough, but I, we, hold on to the words, “God is bigger.” Bigger than birthdays and fathers days and an empty recliner on Sunday afternoons. Bigger than lawns needing to be mowed and dinners with one less plate. He is bigger than what I see fit for my life and He is bigger than cancer. So I wake up, I welcome a new day, I breathe the fresh air, I hold onto hope, and I rest in the knowledge and inarguable fact that God…is bigger. RIP STEPHEN SHIRK 5/5/1967-2/5/2013

Shredded Carrots • Half of a 12-oz bag Shredded Broccoli Slaw • Mozzarella, shredded • Buns, your favorite

it chilled. Hidden Veggie Sloppy Joes are half meat, half veggie but the kids probably won’t even notice. School Food Well, they might notice the ----------------------------------- carrots, but it’s tasty enough that they won’t care. This can also be made a day ahead and reheated when here have been a you’re ready to eat it. You lot of changes going on can even freeze it. lately. Fall is here and with it all the hectic crazy ----------------------------------parts of life. Children are back in school. You now Pizza Pasta Salad have to prepare nutritious breakfasts, lunches, and • 16oz Small Shell Pasta dinners in between dance • 2-14.5oz cans Petite classes and sport team Diced Tomatoes, drained practices. Let’s not forget • 2 -14oz cans Artichoke the seemingly endless Hearts, drained amounts of homework • 1-16oz bag Pepperoni your children will have to Pizza Slices be bribed to do. It’s enough • 16oz Mozzarella Cheese to make you want to order • 1-16oz bag Frozen take-out every night just so Veggie Mix: Broccoli, there is one less thing to Cauliflower, & Carrots worry about. I understand, • 4 Tbsp Minced Garlic really I do. No one wants • 1 large Onion to put in a full 8 hour day • Wishbone Bruschetta at a job only to come Italian Salad Dressing home and slave away in a • 1 Tbsp Dried Oregano kitchen for another hour or • Salt and Pepper, to taste more. You need something quick and easy. You would Cook pasta according to prefer it to be healthy and package directions. I chose delicious but at this point, the small shells instead of you’d probably settle for the more traditional rotini pretty much anything. I because I prefer the smaller have 2 recipes today that bite size pasta. All of the are certainly quick, contain other ingredients will be lots of veggies, and to top chopped, cut, or sliced into it off your kids will like. The more or less equal sizes Pizza Pasta Salad should to the pasta so everything be made a day ahead to is roughly the same size. allow the flavors to meld Feel free to go with a larger and is best eaten cold. It’s size if you prefer. While great for lunch boxes; just the pasta is cooking, cut add a cold pack to keep the pepperoni slices into 4 -----------------------------------

pieces and the mozzarella into small dices. Add those, the tomatoes and garlic to a large mixing bowl. Finely dice the onion and add that to the bowl. In a pan brown the frozen veggies with a little olive oil. Put the veggies in a smaller bowl until cool. In the same pan, heat up the artichoke hearts to remove that canned flavor. Add that to the bowl with the veggies to cool down. You don’t want to add the cooked ingredients to the mixing bowl while they are hot because you will melt the cheese. After the pasta has been drained and cooled add it to the mixing bowl. Add the cooled veggies and oregano to the mixing bowl. Stir to combine adding enough salad dressing to attain the consistency you prefer. Season to taste with salt and pepper and chill overnight. This salad is actually better the next day and can be kept in the fridge for one week making it an easy go-to snack or lunch box food. ----------------------------------Hidden Veggie Sloppy Joes • 1-24oz jar Pasta Sauce, your favorite • 1 lb Lean Ground Meat • 1 Onion • 1 Bell Pepper • Half of a 10-oz bag

In a pan, brown the meat with a little bit of oil. Drain the grease if any. Set aside. Finely dice the onion and bell pepper. In a large pot, add a little oil and all the veggies. Cook on medium high until soft. Add the ground meat and pasta sauce. Stir together and cook until hot. I chose the Ragu chunkystyle mushroom sauce this time but other flavors work equally as well. I’ve used them all with no complaints. If you’re feeling really fancy, you can toast up the buns for a nice crunch. Garlic bread, Texas toast, hamburger buns, etc… are all great choices here. I prefer hot dog buns because the filling actually stays in the bun and it’s easier to eat in my opinion. Add the filling to whichever bun you chose and top with the shredded mozzarella. It really couldn’t be any easier. You can cook a big batch and freeze it for one of those crazy hectic days. This can also be adapted to a slow cooker. Just add all the raw ingredients to the slow cooker in the morning and cook on low all day. By the time you get home, you’re ready to eat. No buns, no problem. Eat in a bowl like you would chili. This dish is so easy and tasty; it will quickly make it onto your go-to weekday dinner list. ----------------------------------Melissa is a thirtysomething living in Baton Rouge, LA. She studied culinary arts at the Chef John Folse Culinary School at Nicholls State University. We love this petite fireball for her sassy and spunky spirit.

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ancer isn’t prejudice to skin color, nationality, religion, or sex. It isn’t biased to old people, those with weak immune systems, the rich or the poor. It chooses football stars and dancing ballerinas, it chooses mothers and uncles and the girl who sits behind you in homeroom. It chooses people who are perfectly healthy, babies who were just born, a dad who just perfected his golf swing, and in February, they found out it chose their 9-year-old daughter. Ribbons and bows, bracelets and baby dolls. Frogs that turn to princes, flowing gowns, horse drawn carriages and pink bedroom walls. Kisses that fix scratches, hugs that affirm safety, moms who heal sickness, dads who hold hands. The life of a little girl, the things that twirling ballerinas and imaginative rocket scientists hold in their hearts as they grow, spinning and bouncing their way through life. The life of a hopeful princess whose frog will one day turn into her knight in shining armor, whose hair will grow in length to be rescued from a castle, whose dad has a red cape stored somewhere in the top drawer of his dresser.

You give birth to a baby, you cradle her in your arms, rock her when she cries, fasten barrettes in her hair. You watch her as she ages, from plucked flowers in coffee cups to floral arrangements decorating wrists on prom day, you watch her turn from a clumsy little girl to a beautiful young woman. You watch her, collecting dandelions and butterflies; you watch her, collecting pictures and memories. You can guess what is mostly in store when you first hear her heartbeat from your belly, ballerina slippers and pretty little dresses, pigtails and pink hearts, nail polish and lip-gloss. You guess all that is in store as you plan to raise a baby, but what you never plan for, what you never want to imagine, is your baby girl collecting hospital bands and doctor’s business cards. What you never think of is sitting at a conference table listening to doctors discuss your child’s brain cancer. We are reminded that the journey of life isn’t the fairy tale we dream of. It has lots of bumps and curves, hurdles, potholes and dead ends. It gives us puddles to jump across, swamps to trudge through, battles to fight, and mountains to climb. But the fairy tale is what we cling to,

wishing on far away stars and slaying dragons that ride in spitting fires of cancer. And the journey brings out the real heroes, like Naya Summy. She had just gotten back from a ski trip with her family when symptoms of a strep throat randomly struck. It was late February when she made her way to the doctors who sent her home on antibiotics. A week later she was undergoing brain surgery at an attempt to remove the cancerous tumor they had found. It all happened extremely fast, and soon the corridors of the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia made way to become her new residence. The chemotherapy started immediately, and within just a couple of weeks, her hair was gone. Her brother and her dad both joined in her hair loss, shaving their heads too. The journey reminds us that true heroes don’t come in the form of princes and knights, true heroes are those who stand beside us when we need them, helping us when we’re weak. And the bravest heroes are the ones who endure the worst situations, but still prove that life is good. It’s been six months since Naya was first diagnosed, her head is bald, her appetite scarce, her energy low, but her strength is unwavering. She has celebrated a 10th birthday, coordinated a team to walk in this year’s Four Seasons Parkway Run and Walk which supports cancer research, and has raised over $10,000 in support of it. Naya Summy is your average 10-year-old girl who has had to give up a lot of her favorite things to fight cancer. She misses when her count levels didn’t matter, when she could eat the foods she liked and didn’t have to be hooked up to feeding tubes and injected with chemo treatments. She wishes she could start 5th grade with all of her friends and be able to tryout for volleyball. She wants to ride her horses and go skiing with her family. She wants her normal life back, so she fights, looking forward to riding her horses and a big plate of sushi when she's all-better. So she fights to make it happen. There has been a phrase penned encouraging women who are fighting cancer to "fight like a girl" - sometimes the little ones are the best example. William Shakespeare once wrote, “Though she be but little, she is fierce!” I think this is the perfect quote to describe little Miss. Naya Summy. Cause if there's ever a time life brings me to this fight, I pray that I will fight like a girl, with the bravery and determination of this little girl, a face behind the phrase. A hero slaying dragons as she carves out her journey, fighting for her happily ever after. Follow Naya Summy’s story at www.nsummy.com

bringing back

the past written by Wesley Harris

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Eugene Bunch: Louisiana's Train Robber -----------------------------------

ugene Bunch wasn’t just a train robber. He was “jovial, jolly and gay – a typical bandit, who thought his profession of road agent a brave and proper one,” according to the railroad detectives who chased after him. He reportedly tipped his hat to female train passengers and declined to take their handbags. He was equally courteous to his male victims but did relieve them of their wallets. Express agents noted he never raised his voice when he threatened to blow their heads off if they didn’t open their safes. His take from a host of robberies was estimated in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

For five years, from 1887 to 1892, Bunch stayed a jump ahead of a bevy of railroad detectives as he robbed trains in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, and Florida. His home in Washington Parish near the Pearl River provided plenty of remote hiding spots if the law got too close. Eugene F. Bunch was born in Mississippi in 1843 to well-respected parents. The family moved to Tangipahoa Parish in his youth and ensured he received a good education. During the Civil War, he enlisted in the 3rd Louisiana Cavalry and apparently served well in the campaigns around Baton Rouge and Port Hudson, although he developed serious drinking and gambling habits. At the close of the war Bunch returned to Tangipahoa Parish and opened a school at Amite. He married a Louisiana girl, Flavia Flynn, in 1869. School teaching didn’t agree with him—probably because of his excessive drinking—so Bunch loaded up his pregnant wife and

moved to Gainesville, Texas in 1874. Bunch taught school briefly in Gainesville before being elected to three consecutive two-year terms as the Cooke County clerk. He apparently used his position as an insider to discover

buying opportunities and operated a profitable land speculation business. Grumbling among the populace over this conflict of interest deterred Bunch from seeking a fourth term. After leaving his government job, Bunch’s difficulties with alcohol and gambling returned. With financial problems and a strained marriage, he left the family in Gainesville and moved to Wichita Falls where he briefly worked as a real estate agent and edited a newspaper. He abandoned his family in 1886, never to see them again, and started a new career as a train robber. His string of robberies across the South rivaled those of the JamesYounger gang in the

Midwest. His gang was rather small and included a “Colonel Hopgood” who was wanted for murder in Mississippi. Sometimes Bunch boarded and robbed trains singlehandedly. Railroad detectives chased after Bunch for years. After robberies, he would return to the Pearl River area separating Louisiana and Mississippi. The remote area along the state line was the perfect hiding place with is swamps teeming with alligators and cottonmouths. But eventually the Detectives Thomas Jackson and C.O. Summers tracked Bunch down near his home. Jackson had been responsible for capturing the Rube Burrow gang, the other notorious train robber of the South. Newspapers across America gave a graphic account of the August 21, 1892 confrontation:

Jackson has been hot on their trail. Such information was obtained from two of the gang captured last week that Bunch and his chief henchman, Colonel Hopgood, were located and yesterday morning upon obtaining a sight of them, the entire posse opened fire on Bunch, riddling his body with bullets. Bunch died game, firing back two or three times, but without effect. Probably from his injuries, Hopgood surrendered without a struggle. “Bunch’s remains were fully identified and there is no doubt that one of the most desperate and successful train robbers known is now no more.” ----------------------------------

Wesley Harris is a native of Ruston. Among his books are GREETINGS FROM RUSTON: A Post Card History of Ruston, Louisiana and Neither Fear Nor Favor: Deputy United States Marshal John Tom Sisemore, available from amazon.com. He can be contacted at campruston@gmail. com. Check out his Louisiana history blog at http://diggingthepast. blogspot.com.

“Eugene Bunch, the noted train bandit, who in the past five years has held up many trains in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Florida was riddled with bullets and instantly killed yesterday morning near Franklinton a small town in Washington parish, Louisiana by Detective Jackson, the tireless ---------------------------------pursuer and destroyer of the Rube Burrow gang. “About two weeks ago Detective Sterling, who had wormed himself into the good graces of the Bunch gang became suspected by them and was ambushed and killed. Since then Detective

We allowed ourselves one weekend to be sad, and then we made a vow to fight. To fight this battle with everything we had as a family, to stay positive and to do whatever it took to beat this. Surgeries were scheduled within weeks of their diagnoses. Dad was first and it was quite possibly one of the longest days of my life. Dad’s a Silver Star Vietnam Vet who, in my eyes, was bulletproof. The man would do anything for anyone and now it was him who needed support. It was our time to take care of him. Dad was in surgery for 8 hours, only to wake up to find out there was more cancer than we were originally told The battle to recovery was going to be a long one, sixteen weeks of Chemotherapy and thirty days straight of Radiation. This battle had just begun. Mom’s surgery was scheduled five days later and was just as draining as my father’s. I think I can speak for my entire family when I say that she is our rock. She is the one who fixes us when we we’re down and celebrates the most in our achievements. Being there for her as she has been for us all these years was extremely important to us. We wanted to make sure she knew that we would be there to pick her up when she was down and celebrate in her achievements. Mom is now 100% cancer free and on her way to a full rowing up my mom has always said, “I have four recovery. only children.” I never really understood what she meant by that until this past year. She defines us in all our forms Dad’s last CT scan showed no cancer activity, but he is not and attributes, describing Christopher as kind, tolerant, yet in remission. We recently had a minor setback when he and sincere; her eldest with a big heart and a good and had to have an emergency double bypass heart surgery; caring soul, seeing goodness in all. She has Timothy, her but, to no surprise, he is recovering like the true hero that thoughtful, capable, and sensitive son with an attitude that he is. life doesn’t always play by the rules, but with patience and hard work everything always works out. She has Melissa, During these incredibly long and draining months, the word her oldest daughter who is loving, nurturing, and giving; “family” has taken on a whole new meaning. For a brief a woman who knows that actions are capable of turning moment in time I felt what it was like to feel my world come anything around and believing that joys once lost can crashing down, only to be saved by all the love and support always be found. And then she has me, her youngest, of our family and friends. Food was delivered, flowers were whom she describes as creative, spirited, and dependable sent, cards were overflowing the mailbox, and calls were with many treasures hidden within. We’re different in our pouring in. Not once did we feel we were battling this alone. ways, but we’re all extremely close, and while we deal That, to me, is a testament to how amazing my parents are with life's triumphs and tragedies differently, we owe these and how much they are loved, respected, and appreciated differences to what kept our family together and stronger by everyone. Beyond our family, they had a lot to fight for. than ever through one of the most difficult years of our lives. A fight they made with their four children at their side, a In October 2012 my family was hit with a huge blow when fight that mom says their children responded to with much my Mom was diagnosed with Breast Cancer and, one week love and support. “Christopher was there whenever he was needed, anytime and any place. Timothy doing whatever later, my Dad with Lung Cancer. he could to make us most comfortable, Melissa keeping In these moments of disbelief we often asked the question, everything and everyone in place so all would run smoothly, “Why us? Why is this happening to us?” Well it turns out I and Katie entertaining us and putting levity on our cancers know that answer now. It’s because we are four only children and in our lives. With this combination of supportive who although handling them differently, can handle life's personalities we made it. I have been blessed with four only obstacles and never let them get the best of us, because children, each different and all sent by God to make me a very proud Mom.” two amazing parents raised us.

The diagnoses came one after the other, and we spent a And we have been blessed with a Mom and a Dad who make weekend mourning the hand we were dealt. One weekend us proud. I am blessed to be part of “four only children” who to cry, to be angry, to feel sorry for ourselves--but that’s it. wouldn’t be who were are if not for them.

o give. What is the first thing that comes to mind? Some may think about giving money, others to give of your time or to volunteer, but what about giving something that is of yourself and is free? Preslea St. Andre, of Ruston, has done just that - even twice. At five-years-old, she happily donated 12 inches of her hair to Pink Heart Funds, in Long Beach, Mississippi. Two years later in February, she donated again and this time her hair was 10 inches.

Once Preslea's hair was cut, the individual pony tails and paperwork are then sent off to Pink Heart Funds. After receiving the hair, the organization sends a thank you postcard. Preslea said the postcard is a nice keepsake and who doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t like to receive actual mail in a high tech world of text, email messages and e-cards.

Preslea said why she wanted to cut and give her hair to To give or not to give - can we ask that question? Hopefully after reading this story of a young girl, we can all realize someone in need. that there are many ways we can make an impact in "I wanted to help people with cancer, and thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s why I others lives. We can give monetarily to worthy causes donated my hair," she said. "I like to grow my hair out to that we are drawn to. We can give of our time and can volunteer in many capacities in our local communities or give to people in need so they can have a wig." even around the world. We can choose to give blood or Presleaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s act also prompted some of her friends to follow plasma, be an organ donor or be on the bone marrow in her steps and donate their hair to Pink Heart Funds transplant list. as well. At any age a person can make a difference, and The choices to give are vast and many, so find something that is a refreshing thought. that speaks to you and your family members interests. This second grader, also know as "P" was excited both Hopefully the story of Preslea, now 7 1/2, when she was times to go to Adrienne Russell at La Bella Salon to get only a five year old and was able to give something as simple - and free - as her grown-out hair to those in need, her "new do" and to donate her grown out locks. inspires you to make a choice to give of yourself as well.

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What Are We Here For? --------------------------------

e all want to know... what are we here for? what is our purpose? Are we living our lives as justly as intended? Perception is the framework in which we allow our vision to become skewed in lieu of our subconscious reactions to occurrences or subject matter. As our souls journey through this lifetime on the intended paths of experience, growth, and understanding we are adjacently allowing ourselves to frame our personal mind set, therefore altering our perception further. It is both through conscious and subconscious means that we are able to affect our lives, reflective attitudes and auras.

Considerably, humans are of the most intelligible life forms on Earth and as such we are given gifts that allow us to completely alter our life course. It is through the power of thought and cognitive ability that we can consciously alter our perspectives allowing us to gain clearer perception. By allowing ourselves to fully envelope the idea that we truly have a great deal of control over our personal happiness we can begin the process of controlling our thoughts and therefore our perception. Through experience we can gain the knowledge we need to assess the proper perspective for each situation that will allow for optimal understanding and thus formation of perception. As we continue to traipse through this crazy adventure known as life we are often confronted with various obstacles further presenting opportunity of choice. It is the decisions we make from the choices given that develop our true character. Consciously, we

can only assure ourselves that the decisions we have made for our lives are the best ones and further allow for reproach in cases where they arenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t. Our souls were not meant to live with regret, thus it is important that in times of cognitive dyslexia we are able to recognize our skewed perception and reciprocally adjust our mentality for personal means of happiness. For when we are unable to reroute and put ourselves back into the positive track of thinking we find ourselves in a downward spiral of negative interior emotion. The mere ability to control thoughts and make decisions puts human cognition on a pedestal even among the many amazing capabilities of the brain. As humans, we are given this gift of conscious ability parallel to our reasoning and decision making skills for much higher reason than many of us consciously use it for. The great ability to change

your perspective allows for clearer perception of the soul and further allows for you to ensure that the path of life you are on is true to who you truly are. As our perspective is only altered through experience allowing us to grow and further understand who we are, what we are, and what purposes we are here to serve through greater vision of our souls in terms of perception.

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Ashley Marie Nygaard is a 22 year old student, writer, life enthusiast, and also an aspiring model-actress. Residing in Shreveport, Louisiana for nearly the past decade Ashley loves taking on new challenges and especially experiencing new things. She withholds a passion for all things artistic, is very enthusiastic about life, and considers all things possible. Through high ambitions and a positive attitude she believes that the one true change she can make in the world begins within, and so for you it does too. ------------------------------------------

Homecoming

Owners: Paula McCann Amanda Banks

706 Main Street Minden, LA 318-299-3838

www.belleofthebal.com 53

ow did I get to be this old, this happy and this blessed? 46 is a young number compared to some, especially my 93yr old Mammaw however; my heart has battled through some tough trenches that warrants a little age. Ha ...None the less, I am a very proud mother of my 3, my Hubby's 3 and grandmother (â&#x20AC;&#x153;Ta-Taâ&#x20AC;?) to our 5yr old, grand baby girl. I think we all suffer from not being able to tell her no. We're leading a beautiful adventurous life filled with laughter, tears, and great memories. God is our guide.

A few days before I agreed to allow one of my good friend's child to shadow me at work for a school project. I owned and operated a small business and was happy to help out. I was showing her the ropes when I received the dreaded phone call from the Pediatrician. Although we had become routine nuisances, I tried one last time at begging his Dr. for a blood test and x-ray. I knew this was the final call I would make and would begin searching elsewhere to find answers. Problem was I was uncertain Today I smile watching my college bound, curly brown who to go to since we had entrusted this Dr. and staff for headed, 21 year old son Austin, walk the halls of college years and years. life. A healthy young man embracing his dream of being Diagnosis in... They refused tests and further treatment a Graphic Artist, yet just a short time ago life for him was due to possible drug user and manifesting his illness mentally. To say I was SHOCKED is an understatement! not so easy. Back in May 2009 at the tender age of 17, Austin became very sick with mono and was unable to heal. He couldn't regain his strength. My son and I became weekly and bi weekly visitors to his pediatrician in search of answers to his illness. Nothing helped. He became weaker and weaker by the day loosing weight, vomiting blood and becoming bed ridden. I begged for answers, for further testing only to hear the Dr say my precious son was suffering from depression and the after effects of Mono. When I asked for more blood tests and x-rays, we were pawned off to other physicians who also refused testing, yet kept asking how long had Austin been depressed. We were baffled at this unified diagnosis until a nurse revealed depression was notated in his chart from the pediatrician. Wow! Such a surprise to us since my son had never had any kind of depression before and was extremely active in school, sports, church etc... The reality now was... Austin was deteriorating before my eyes and I was scared. I knew something really bad was wrong with my beautiful son.

The irony here where God had his hand on us, is that I didn't have a clue who next to go to until I turned my tear filled eyes to this precious baby girl following me around all day and realized...OMG- Your Daddy, my friend is a Family Practice Doctor. Thank you Lord for answered prayers even if you have to bump me on the reminder noggin once and awhile. Within 24hrs, a blood test and x-rays revealed a preliminary diagnosis of Hodgkins Lymphoma. Time to put on the breast plate of armor. We now had answers and a plan via our friend and St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. Austin is a true "Success Story". Given his life back twice from the miraculous place called St. Jude. He suffered through months of Chemotherapy and Radiation. Scared, but a real trooper on a mission for a cure. He was far away from home, school, friends, his brother & sister. We took a leap of faith. I left my job and other children with family and gave it all to God.

Austin went into remission and stayed that way for a year and four months until one of his routine check ups revealed the ugly beast of Cancer had grown back. Sad but not broken Austin and I walked hand in hand like two warriors on a tour of duty facing the Cancer demon yet again. This time we knew what treatment meant and what we were facing. Our faith and trust was in God, the Master Healer. We had the enlistment of all our prayer warriors, our St. Jude family, and friends who were treating along with us. This time, Austin suffered through a much stronger, massive treatment of Chemotherapy, Radiation and Stem Cell Transplant until he gained remission and healing once again. He managed to finish High School and even take the ACT at the campus of St. Jude with the help of Loyola College Prep in Shreveport, Louisiana. His Principal and staff were nothing short of fabulous...sending him work in between treatments, so he could graduate from High School. God double blessed me with Austin's cure and an avenue of reconnecting with an old flame, who I now call best friend and husband. Life is a blessing of many healings. God has such a way of working things out to glorify HIM.

his frail cancer ridden body. Watched him at death's door and with the help of the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital and their team.... I now get to watch him LIVE. St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, treats Cancer patients like my son with the most current, state of the art resources known to man. A Hospital known for its founder Danny Thomas who stated, "No child shall go untreated because they can't afford to pay". How is this possible? St. Jude operates solely on the donations of people like YOU! It costs over a million dollars a day to run this facility and treat the Children fighting to stay alive. Cancer isn't a disease that discriminates age, gender, race or religious preference, it attacks us all. You or someone you love has been effected by this horrific disease and WE have a chance to make a difference in saving the lives of those willing to go through the tough battle of Chemotherapy, Radiation, Stem Cell Transplant, Bone Marrow Transplants and other life saving treatments like these.

Won't you help us in our journey to raise money and awareness by donating to St. Jude Children's Research Wow! What a journey. My son is a true hero. He's the Hospital? My Austin and all the other children fighting can strongest person I know. I've held his hand, his hair be success stories if we all give so our children can have coming out in my hands, taken care of his little boy body, a chance to live.

3rd Annual Issue & Event 55

Callie was thrown off balance by the sudden change of subject. “I just--” Then it hit her like a physical blow. Heat crawled into her cheeks with a relentless sting.

a novel

approach

Mrs. Mayweather smiled, knowing her dart had hit its mark. “It’s so much easier to understand how others should handle life’s burdens than our own, is it not?”

written by Winnie Griggs on what the character arc actually is - who is he at the beginning of your story, and who should he be at the end? From there you can figure out the steps to get him there, and hopefully provide insight into the triggering event for his epiphany.

makes others, she insists it’s better if she goes on as she always has.

During an epiphany, your character reassesses some closely held belief or value and as a result, begins to view his goals differently and his entire Unlike Revelations where outlook will likely change. a secret is discovered or confessed, an Epiphany is Let me illustrate with a when a character reaches scene from my book The a sudden realization Hand-Me-Down Family. on her own. It’s a high moment in the story, and Set up. This is 1890. The usually occurs when a heroine, Callie, was born character has reached with a port wine stain that the climax, or at least an covered most of the left important turning point, in side of her face. Her family their character arc. shielded her from as much public scrutiny as possible. To make this moment Now that she’s an adult, believable and have she wears poke bonnets it resonate with your with exaggerated brims readers, you can’t just that hide most of her face. have it happen out of the Her new husband has tried blue. You must set it up to convince her that this properly. You must show doesn’t matter to him. He character growth that will even bought her a pretty allow us to believe she hat that sits on top of her can get to this moment of head to replace her bonnet. realization. To do this you But remembering how must have a good handle uncomfortable her face

“Nonsense.” Callie was determined to make her friend see how foolish she was being. “Anyone who thinks the less of you for it wouldn’t be in the frame of mind they should be in when in God’s house. You should be proud of that which God gave you.”

--------------------------------

Epiphanies --------------------------------

n my last column I covered Revelations, today I’d like to talk about Epiphanies.

The scene below occurs near the end of the book. Callie is talking to a friend who doesn’t sing the hymns in church because she doesn’t like her voice.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “What an enlightened way of looking at things.” Callie smiled, pleased that Mrs. Mayweather finally seemed to understand how narrowly she’d been viewing the situation. She was glad she’d been able-The schoolteacher closed her fan with a snap and gave Callie a pointed look. “You know, that was such a lovely hat Jackson gave you.” She touched her chin with the folded fan, “I wonder why it is you haven’t worn it since?”

Callie nodded numbly. Was Mrs. Mayweather right? Had she hid behind her bonnet all these years, not out of respect for the feelings of others, but out of her own vanity? How often had she lectured others as she had Mrs. Mayweather just now on how they shouldn’t be ashamed of whatever talent or burden God had assigned to them. She’d been so eager to find the mote in other’s eyes that she’d ignored the beam in her own. The story goes on from there and we immediately sees changes in Callie. She puts away her poke bonnets and holds her head high as she walks through town. It’s a challenge for her, but she now understands that she owes this not only to herself but to her stepchildren and her husband. Both revelations and epiphanies are big payoff scenes for your readers. Take the time to showcase them and structure them properly for maximum effect. Make sure they flow logically from what has occurred to that point and that they carry the emotional weight they deserve.

Pink Heals.

Fight against cancer. There’s a Pink Fire Truck coming to your community! Find out about the incredible affect that the Pink Heals Tour has on cancer patients and survivors of any type of cancer. You won’t want to miss this very touching and moving presentation.

Pink Heals Tour 2013 Wednesday, October 23 • 6 p.m. FREE! Northern Louisiana Medical Center

NorthernLouisianaMedicalCenter.com

Main Entrance 401 E. Vaughn Avenue Ruston (The event will be moved to the cafeteria if there is inclement weather.)

Hamburgers & Hot Dogs provided by NLMC, First National Bank and Ensure To learn more visit NorthernLouisianaMedicalCenter.com

more than just mere pilots to the patients you have chosen to fly. You help them in their hour of need and have erased the burden of the travel when they are physically, financially, emotionally, and spiritually distraught. What he journey that started a short five years ago contin- a great way to share yourself with them and listen to their concerns that many do not share with their own family ues to reach new heights. members! In fact it is more than a service; it is a ministry When I look back to our first mission on January 14, 2008 in itself. If you cannot help your neighbors and friends, with just a handful of pilots and a dream, I’m humbled who can you help? and excited that it has turned into a successful reality. The bottom line is we do not want any patient to go withPilots for Patients is growing into the service that we all out medical treatment because of transportation costs or knew in our hearts was desperately needed throughout inaccessibility issues due to their immune system being the state of Louisiana. We have worked diligently and too low, exposing them to large masses of people in airmethodically to expand our services to the families in port terminals. Many of our St. Jude children have such our communities which we are so fortunate to be able problems. Many of our flights are taking cancer patients to Houston’s M.D. Anderson and Texas Children’s Cento assist. ter. Because of the dedication of our board members, pilots, staff, volunteers, patrons, and partners we have flown With your help Pilots for Patients will be there for paover 1,700 missions as of July 24, 2013. The success tients needing transportation to and from their medical of this organization is directly proportionate to the in- treatment centers. We will also be there to provide hope creased number of dedicated people that are passion- and compassion to the patients in their hour of need. ate about supporting our mission. For every one of you There is still work to be done in recruiting pilots and volwe would like to send our deepest gratitude and heartfelt unteers around the state. Please become involved and thanks. give us a call today. You can even sign up online and use your talent of helping in your community. We can help Through our efforts to increase awareness of patient mentor you. outreach and pilot recruitment policy, Pilots for Patients is working diligently to keep up with balancing our de- Our motto is “Have you made a difference in someone's mand of ever increasing health-care access for those in life today”? Someday soon I hope we can change this to need of specialized treatment. Patients must be ambula- say “Pilots for Patients, where we can make a difference tory and medically stable and be able to walk into and in someone's life every day”! out of our aircraft unassisted. For more information please visit our website at www. I cannot say enough about the dedication of our pilots pilotsforpatients.org or call 318.322.5112. who truly make a difference in so many lives. You are

a season of

becoming in new orleans

written by Shelley Duran but it should be deliberate. There’s something to be said for the vulnerable ask and giving someone the willingness to say ‘yes’ or The date asking rarely ‘no’. happens. And when it does, it’s done by a man New Orleans as a city is an who is a magician by living expert in the art of asking. and by all accounts has It asks us to stay and decided that you should be have another. It asks us to dance instead of cry. To his assistant for life. not mind the smell. It asks in silence as much as it I wish I was kidding. asks in sounds. There are It often feels like I’ve pinned no games. No guesswork. myself in a corner once I’ve Just a simple, deliberate given in to peaked interest. ask. Suddenly, I convince myself I need options which As silly as those ‘Proud leads me to being out past to Swim Home’ bumper my bedtime listening to The stickers seem, it’s actually the most profound way of Magic Man. saying ‘yes’ I’ve ever seen. In the past, I have said I New Orleans digs a hole wanted the guy who was in your heart and stays bold in his attempt and the there. That act alone is the asking. As romantic as this ultimate ask anyone could sounds and looks in every ever ask of you, and New Rom-Com, this is the worst Orleans seems to do it reality. It’s more annoying without you even realizing. than tourists on Bourbon This feeling is nearly impossible to explain to Street. those who don’t call this I believe there’s an art to the place home, but this feeling asking. It doesn’t have to be is the thread that makes it bold (I actually don’t enjoy an ‘us against them’ thing. grand gestures in general) like the day after the big parade (tired, hazy, and questioning the events that happened). -----------------------------------

There's an Art to the Asking -----------------------------------

as he asked you out yet? They want to know. Hits harder than a bead in the face at Mardi Gras. Especially when the answer is NO. This topic usually comes at some drink establishment after some time has passed and we’re all knee deep in conversation. If you’re anything like me, I dread this conversation more than I dread bathing suit season. I end up fumbling and reasoning but it only comes out as a big ole mess. The conversation eventually ends and I’m left feeling

One day there will be more deliberate asks in my life. Maybe they will be during a walk. Or over breakfast (I really, really like breakfast). And maybe there are asks that will change my whole world. But right now, I’m good with being in my corner and saying ‘yes’ to the questions New Orleans is throwing my way. This month, I am saying ‘yes’ to celebrating another birthday living in the city and a new apartment to call my own. But it’s going to take a whole lot of breakfasts and walks to make me say ‘yes’ to The Magic Man. I’m okay with this.

--------------------------------------------

Shelley is a twenty something gal making moves in New Orleans, Louisiana. When she's not working as a Project Manager at HERO|farm ad agency, she can often be found running through her neighborhood park in order to enjoy New Orleans' cuisine on a regular basis. Her beloved dog, Olive, can often be found by her side. Follow her rants and quips on Twitter @ shellbellduran. --------------------------------------------

3 oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened Â˝ t. dried Italian seasonings, crushed Â˝ t. season salt 2 eggs 1 T. milk 2/3 c. bread crumbs or crushed cornflakes

----------------------------Summer's End Jalapenos -----------------------------

orn shocks in cut over fields stand at halfmast to salute the end of yet another southern season. Soon gardens will be prepared for fall with heaping piles of organic compost; or they may already be boasting the buds of an autumn crop. The changing seasons produce the last of summer fruits and nature stands to reminds us of how finite man is. A few remainders of the season soon past continue producing their fruits. In anticipation of a cool fall, the peppers have begun to vigorously supply a fine production of multi-colors pods; their vivid shades in competition with that of the soon falling leaves. Even the bright green jalapenos swell to provide a spicy bite to manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s palate. Eggplants bear royal vestiges of purple elongated fruit, specifically designed to cover the shortcomings of their knobby-kneed form. Their gray green leaves presenting the perfect mantle for a mock regal appearance.

Tall spindly okra plants continue to reach for the sky. The coolness of fall gives additional incentive for its prolific growth. Soon the freezers will be full of its goodness. Its harvests will provide man with the memory of coming warmth in the cold of winter.

and boldly carrying the faith of his Heavenly Father, he steps forward into the unknown tomorrow. Vibrantly aware that time is only borrowed, while eternity is sure. ------------------------------------

Stuffed Jalapenos The squirrels have begun preparations for the 12 fresh jalapenos (2-3 changing season. Nuts inches long) are buried in secret and 1 c. shredded cheddar the scattered display of chewed pine cones are evidence of their busy lifestyle. Mourning Doves burrow in their cubby holes and provide longsome songs of bygone eras. Swamp rabbits twitch their ears and nibble briskly as they fill their cheeks full with sweet soft grasses. Each animal totally unaware of what tomorrow may bring Even man, in this changing season, is pulled by the vortex of time. There is an unknown longing which is never quenched. A faithful barometric touch to his internal clock began the day he was born and continues with him throughout his life. As he gradually counts down the years, he views the end of one season, and attempts to prepare for that which is to come. He is highly conscious of the fact that each year brings him closer to the winter of his life. Knowing that time, like the end of summer, eventually stops for all mankind. With a catch of his breath,

Cover a large cookie sheet with foil. Set aside. Cut each pepper in half lengthwise and remove the stems and seeds. Stir together the two cheeses and the seasonings; fill each pepper half with the cheese mixture. Beat the eggs and milk then dip each pepper in the mixture. Place the bread crumbs or crushed cereal in a bowl. After dipping, roll each pepper in the crumbs. Place peppers on the prepared baking sheet, filled side up. Bake at 325 degrees for about 30 minutes. Peppers should be tender and heated thoroughly. Serve with sour cream or guacamole. ------------------------------------

What are you doing this weekend?

September Events 14

5th Annual Fire Brigade Benefit Classic Car Show

26-28

The Wild Daze Three "Daze" of WILDlife and Habitat Education

Car Show

October Events 5, 11, 12, 18, 19, 25, 26. 31 Jefferson Railway Fright Train 4-5

2nd Annual Medieval Wine Faire

4-6

Lake O' Pines Biker Rally

Jefferson City Wide Rummage Sale

Cypress River Airport Fly-In

11-13

16th Annual Boo Run Benefit & Motorcycle Rally

Mustang Car Show

Taste of Jefferson

The Bed & Breakfast Capital of Texas 903.665.3733

visitjeffersontexas.com

Wild Daze

Fright Train

Boo Run City of Jefferson

visitjeffersontexas visitjeffersontexas@gmail.com

For Quality

You have a choice when it comes to caring for your health. Make it a smart one, and choose the area hospital that was named one of the nation’s top performers on key quality measures two years in a row. We’re proud to be recognized by The Joint Commission, the leading accreditor of healthcare organizations in the nation, for our achievements in quality… but we’re even more proud to be chosen by you. Minden Medical Center understands what matters most to patients and their families – safe and effective care. We are committed to providing the highest quality care possible, along with the expertise and leading edge technology that you expect at larger hospitals, all conveniently close to home. Whatever your healthcare need, choose Minden Medical Center. www.mindenmedicalcenter.com