All Hat, No Cowboy

I’m sure I picked up the phrase from some movie.  We use it in our house as sort of a “catch all” for people that seem really great, but when you dig a little deeper…well, their outsides don’t match their insides.  And at least every cowboy I have ever known—well, what you see is what you get—and no matter how deep you dig, they are who they are all the way through.  Their actions match who they say they are.

But then there are the ones who just wear the hat, and you think they are all cowboy, but once you start talking to them, well….they’re just “All Hat, No Cowboy”.  Their actions just don’t match who they say they are.

Grace, our nine-year old daughter, particularly likes to use this phrase if the conversation turns to some superstar like Justin What’s-His-Name.  She will grumble “All Hat, No Cowboy”, and we all know what that means. 

A phrase like that requires a standard.  You know, a reference point.  Who do you compare the new subject to in deciding if they are “All Hat, No Cowboy” or “All Cowboy”?  For Grace, I think her standard is a spectacular choice.  It’s her daddy.  Because he is definitely “All Cowboy”.  With or without the hat.

And his outsides match his insides at all times.

As a family, I think last year we experienced just how “All Cowboy” he really is.  From the very beginning when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, Vern kept his faith in the Lord, continued to lead our family with a servant’s heart, and handed out a bus load of encouragement to his wife with unceasing devotion.

He actions match who he says he is.  At.  All. Times.

Looking back, I am not sure that I have thanked him enough.  In fact, I have to confess that sometimes I have treated him like he is “All Hat”.  And I wonder, Ladies.  Are we doing a good job nurturing the cowboy in our husbands?  Because God did not create our men to be “All Hat”.  He created them to be “All Cowboy”. 

The Girl at DEFCON 5

So, I am at my 3-month regular check-up with my oncologist, the quite brilliant Dr. Klemow at UT Southwestern Medical Center.  Everything looks great, you (Nancy) are doing great, you breezed through your treatments, and your recovery was quick.  But wait.  What’s this?  You haven’t had your 6-month mammogram?  Well, let’s take care of THAT.

At first I thought it was quite awesome.  I mean, Classic Nancy-style, if I had actually scheduled the thing, I would have had months to get all nice and worked up about it.  This way, I had no time to get all worked up.  Or so I thought.

I love UTSWMC Imaging.  You get a pink cape and a pink robe—all from the warming cabinet so you are all toasty warm.  Carla did my imaging, and you just have to love her, too.  She is always so upbeat, and sympathetic about the tenderness of a breast that has been through a lot in less than a year.

Sympathetic, but while she drizzles those sincere smiles at you, her hands are busy cranking your girls into pancakes to get the perfect images.

Nothin’ but love for ya, Carla.

So afterwards, I’m waiting for the radiologist, but here comes Carla.  They have found some calcifications and need to do some more imaging to see what it is.

To a cancer survivor, “calcifications on the images” is the last thing you want to hear.  And certainly not for a girl like me who is hard wired to have anxiety. I instantly went to DEFCON 3.

First thing I did was dig in my pockets looking for my scriptures.  But I had not put any of them in my pockets that day.  I hit DEFCON 4 in under a second.  I had been putting scriptures in my pockets, because when I have anxiety, all the scripture I have memorized goes straight out of my head—so I have found it’s just best to write them down and stuff them in my pockets.  I forgot I had a Bible in my purse.

I followed Carla back to have my girls cranked again, totally dazed.  Afterwards, she sent me back to the waiting room.

Since it was the end of the day, nobody else was in the waiting room.  That sick, familiar feeling of panic on a platform of being alone washed over me.  Classic, Nancy.  Just classic.

I couldn’t call Vern—no signal—so I tried to rationalize with myself.  It couldn’t be cancer again.  My surgery margins were clean.  There was no lymph node involvement.  I had chemo.  Radiation.  I didn’t have any of the cancer genes.  I was on Tamoxifen.

DEFCON 5 anyway. 

And that’s when I got mad at myself.  I mean, SERIOUSLY?  After all that God had brought me through, I was going to default to DEFCON 5 in under 5 minutes? I had thought my faith had gotten so much stronger through all of that business, but where was my faith now?  I could almost feel Satan sitting next to me, all smug—enjoying the show.

So I stood up.  I stood up and I simply said, “Lord, I am your child and I need HELP! Remember me!”

Just then, the radiologist came in and explained that I did have a few calcifications at the site of the surgery, and that it is quite common—and they are harmless.  Nothing to worry about.

I don’t remember getting dressed, or walking out.  I remember calling Vern.  I remember how rubbery my legs were.  I remember getting into the truck.  And I remember totally losing it.  Sobs of grief over my unhealthy talent to hit DEFCON 5 status in less than 5 minutes.  Reminded again, that I am unworthy of the Lord’s mercy on me.  And I was never more grateful than I was at that moment that I was a child of God and did not have to earn His love.

And then, knowing I had His abundant love even while at DEFCON 5—well, the tears dried up, and I was grinning ear to ear with joy.

I had reclaimed the good news for myself, and the verse came into my head as clearly as if I had been reading it straight from the Word:

Neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Romans 8:39

Your love is deep.  Your love is high.  Your love is long.  Your love is wide.

Your love is deeper than my view of grace; Higher than this worldly place; Longer than this road I've traveled; Wider than the gap You've filled.

Praise be to God that I can’t earn His love!  Praise be to God that He abundantly loves the girl who can get to DEFCON 5 in under 5 minutes!  He deserves every shred of gratitude in me for that.  Every.  Shred.