Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us.

~Abraham Lincoln

College Roommate

You all know how there always seems to be one person in a group that keeps up with everyone else. Jackie is the one that always sent the Christmas card. Over the years, I watched her family grow because she would enclose those neat little school photos. You know the kind....the kids hate the way they looked but the mamas always thought that they were a perfect likeness.

Jackie and I roomed together for four years at Longwood College (now University) in Farmville, Virginia from 1970-1974. Indeed, it is unusual for two roommates to last that long. It seems that our relationship has lasted these thirty-five years. She came to see me today.

Over the years, I have enjoyed the cards, and then e-mail. I was on her e-mail list so that I, along with who-knows-how-many others, kept up with her two boys as they were growing up and going off to college. And then, sadly, the death of her husband from cancer. I never knew what to say to Jackie when her husband died. I don't even remember if I sent a card. I regret that I didn't go to her and share her grief. The lesson I learned from that immense regret is that you always go to see one who is suffering. I'm saying that now because I want people to come to see me when I am suffering. I don't want them to be afraid.

Jackie and I had lunch at Sunnyside Cafe in downtown Weaverville this afternoon. My son works there as a server (not a waiter as in the olden days), and I wanted him to meet her. He is a part of me that she never knew, and I wanted her to see how proud I am of him.

We talked ... and talked .... mostly about Roy's cancer and about my cancer. She was pleasantly surprised that I was not "skinny" (it's been a long time since anyone considered me skinny). She was expecting me to be an emaciated victim of cancer as her husband had been. I am blessed not to be skinny at this point in my life! I read today that the main cause of death for cancer patients is starvation.

Now that those thirty-five years are behind us, we can once again call ourselves friends. She knows that I will be there for her in her time of need, and I know that she will be there for me in my time of need. I apologized for not being there when Roy died, and she accepted what I said in a gracious way. The wall that I built between us is no longer there. Forgiveness does that.

Losing Nietcha

Nietcha came to us when she was three. My family had decided to adopt a friend for Heidi, so we began a search. My husband's sister believed that a companion would help our sweet Heidi get over some irritating habits, such as gnawing at her nails.

I fell in love with Nietcha as soon as I laid eyes on her. Her family was in the middle of trying to sell their house, and with an infant, Nietcha was just "too much."

Heidi did not take too well to Nietcha. Sweet Heidi became super jealous Heidi--that came out of nowhere! After a week, Heidi realized Nietcha was here to stay and decided to join us in welcoming our new addition.

Immediately, Nietcha and I bonded, perhaps it was because of my "rescuing" her from the wrath of her new sister. That bond never weakened. Losing her broke my heart.

Heidi and Nietcha were both German Shepherds. We raised Heidi from a pup, but she was my son's dog. Nietcha was my dog. She wanted to be near me all the time, loving it when I scratched her ears in just the right place. I won't forget her sounds of surrender when I scratched just right.

Nietcha would have been a wonderful service dog. When my mother was visiting us shortly before her death, Nietcha would lay by her side. She was such a comfort to Mama. When I felt under the weather because of chemo, she was at my side. She had a sense that she was needed, so unlike Heidi. Nietcha always waited ahedad for me, as many German Shepherd's like to do, just to make sure everything was allright.

She loved to go for rides in the car, so she became a constant companion. It didn't matter how short or how long the drive, she never had too much of a good thing.

Nietcha had, over several months, gotten thin. I hadn't thought much about it because she was eating well and had no other symptoms. When a friend commented about her weight, I took her to the vet. After doing blood work , ultrasound and X-rays, the vet and I discussed possibilities. I decided to more carefully monitor her eating and pooping. Then the diarrhea started. We tried antibiotics and an anti-diarrheal medicine. In her last week, she seemed to rally, but then she stopped eating. We started giving her pancreatic enzymes to replace those that the pancreas was unable to produce. Apparently Endocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency in common in German Shepherds. But we were too late.

Niecha died on Wednesday, February 18, 2009. She was eight years old. The night before, she had made her way upstairs and had jumped on my bed. I don't know how she did it -- she was so weak. We had not been letting her into the house because of her diarrhea, but Tuesday evening I took the chance. She was so lonely. I'm so thankful that I did. I was able to scratch her ears and show her how much I loved her. She was able to jump on my bed to show me how much she wanted to be near me. As my husband drove Nietcha and I to the vet (I was still in my pjs and robe), she used her last bit of energy to crawl up in my lap so that I could ....rub her ears.