Inside the Mind of an Educator

  Well, I couldn’t convince Gavin to go to the Amalfi Coast, so Buella has been evicted. I am very sore and struggling to take the pain medication because it causes me to dry heave. You don’t realize how much you use your chest and chest wall until it has had some trauma.   However, we have been in great hands. The medical professionals have been amazing and very accommodating. They are all so compassionate and kind.  Gavin has been caring for me so well. He loves and serves me in the normal day to day, and I fall in love with him deeper everyday. As a trained Air Force medic he knows what to do to help alleviate pain with positioning, helping me walk to and from the restroom, to rubbing my hands and feet. He truly is amazing and I am so in love with him. I know he’s exhausted from sleeping on the chair with interruptions every time he drifts off from the nursing staff coming in for vital checks, or to help me getting readjusted in bed. I couldn’t have a better partner in...

2025 has been a transformative year for our family, marked by health challenges, faith, and divine moments I call "God winks"—those undeniable signs of God's love, plan, and provision. These moments, woven together, led to the discovery of "Buella," a breast cancer diagnosis that could have gone unnoticed without God's guidance. Here's our story —a testament to His presence, even in the unseen parts of our lives.    In October, Gavin moved back to Alaska as he was asked to take Command,  and Lilyan and I stayed to complete the school year. We are used to separations with the military, but we both dislike this part of the life we have embraced for over 20 years. However, praise God for technology as we were able to Facetime and connect every night. Due to the time difference, he would call as he was heading home for the night and I was getting ready to go to sleep. It was manageable, even if it was challenging to be apart. In December, I lost a friend and...

Dear Buella, This is your notice that you are being permanently evicted from the premises, also known as my body, effective July 1. You have exceeded the number of recommended days to be in residence by more than 30 days; therefore, you will forcibly be removed so you can no longer wreak havoc upon the landscape of our lives. - Management / Allie Dear Family and Friends, On July 1st, I will have a double mastectomy and begin reconstructive surgery. Buella, the name I gave my tumor, has been served her eviction notice after 70+ days since detection, and we are grateful to have a date scheduled.  However, I do keep trying to convince Gavin that traveling to the Amalfi Coast for pasta and coffee would do wonders for healing cancer instead. If you have a study that supports my hypothesis, please share it with me, as I have read at least 50 research articles and a few books about cancer in the past month and have yet to find a correlation or causation study about the benefits of authent...

I never thought this would be my view one day. No one ever really considers it when they are healthy, eat well, exercise, and avoid most things that do damage to the beautiful temple God created in the human body. However, this powerful perspective became my reality today, as I met with a medical oncologist, a surgical oncologist, and a radiology oncologist for a recent diagnosis of breast cancer.   I realize this is probably a shock to many of you, as it was to our family; however, there are so many God winks in this story that I do not feel I can keep it to myself. God has a way of turning the most seemingly awful things into a beautiful blessing, and I have already witnessed His abundant love in the past month of medical screenings, testing, and waiting. I am not clear on what the future holds, but this year, I had already decided to let go and let God, and I am experiencing the goodness, grace, and peace that comes from truly honoring that commitment.  I plan to wri...

  The Moment That Changed Everything  I know the exact moment my life changed forever. The details of my last few minutes of “normal” are etched in my memory, and even after more than 3 decades, they remain as vivid as ever. I was in first grade, skipping with my classmates to “Skip to My Lou, My Darling,” when the school secretary walked into the room. She called my name, and as I followed her to the office, fear crept into my chest. I had never been in trouble before. I rarely spoke, let alone misbehaved, so I racked my brain, trying to figure out what I had done wrong. When I saw my aunt standing by the front doors, I exhaled in relief—until I noticed the tension in her face. Something was wrong. She wouldn’t answer my questions, only telling me to wait. As my siblings gathered at the front of the school, we had no idea what was happening.  Then, we stepped outside, and I saw my mother in the front seat of my aunt’s car, sobbing uncontrollably. My grandparents hovered ...