Take That, Susan G!

It's October. Everyone's favorite time of the year. Well, I have a few confessions:

1. I don't really like I've never had a pumpkin spice latte. And I don't really like pumpkin flavor that much.
2. I'm not a big fan of boots and sweaters and scarves so I'll be rocking it in leggings and sweats and parkas until March.
3. It makes me really sad that it's getting cold.
4. I've already busted out the electric blanket in my office at work. Trying to hold off on the space heater at home, but it's only a matter of time...

But that's not what the post is about. It's not about fall and the weather and football (just a couple weeks until Memphis Madness which in my mind is the official start of basketball season anyway). This post is about October. Breast cancer awareness month. I'm not an oncologist or anything, but I see cancer pretty frequently. Not breast cancer, of course. Those people don't come to the hospital. But other cancers. So in honor of breast cancer awareness, I thought I would share some things. The number one cause of death in America is heart disease. (So be sure to rock red in February for America Heart Association month). Cancer is number 2. The number one cancer killer in America is lung cancer. In fact, Mrs. Komen herself died from mets to her lungs (although cancer is classified by the primary tumor).

But breast cancer awareness is really important. And the next time you are cleaning with your cute little pink vacuum that you just HAD to have to "support the cause" make sure you stop and do a self breast exam...

* Don't send hate mail. It's not that I don't support breast cancer. I just think it's all a little overkill. Don't just slap a stupid, pink ribbon on a box of macaroni and cheese and call it awareness. And don't even get me started on Angelina Jolie...

Tears

Sometimes tears are good.

They mean that you feel something.

Tears are conviction.

And conviction is from the Holy Spirit.

My mind races, especially when I drive, so I sometimes send myself voice memos to listen to later. That is the message that I left for myself last night. I just listened to it. And I can hear the hurt in my voice. I can hear the pain through the tears. And I can hear Michael Buble's Home playing on the radio in the background.