A story about Jeff

Time is going by quickly for our family.  We have been very busy and we love it!  The kids and I just returned from the San Antonio stockshow.  We are exhausted, full of new stories and ready to jump back into our regular routine. 

Jeff was home alone but looks no worse for the wear.  He never went to the grocery store although I did leave several meals for him.  I'm pretty sure our friends, Dean and Dawn fed him.  I'm glad he didn't starve!  He said he worked a lot while we were gone and enjoyed the quiet.  He has been taking the new medicine for two weeks now.  He takes it for 5 days on and 2 days off.  The first week it really upset his stomach.  The dr felt like his stomach is still sensitive from chemo.  It takes a while for that to get back to normal.  But this week he doesn't seem to feel as sick.  I hope that continues to improve and that medicine is working!!!  Jeff has also had a slow continuous nose bleed for the last month.  Very annoying!  He sees Dr. Patel on Monday about it.  The last scans didn't show any cancer in his nose so we are not sure what the cause is.  I really think chemo just jacked up his whole system. Please pray that he can get that irritating problem under control.

Jeff's friend, Derek sent us a beautiful story he wrote about Jeff.  It touched us beyond belief and we asked his permission to share it.  He accurately described Jeff and his tough as nails love of life.  Here it is.

"One of my football teammates, a boy named Jeff Smith, lived near Happy, Texas on a farm/cattle ranch and would occasionally invite me to his home where I was again exposed to some degree of rural life.  I envied his adult-like demeanor as he drove tractors, saddled horses, and bragged about "workin' cattle" or "cuttin' wheat".  On one of these occasions, Jeff woke me early on a Saturday morning and informed me that we would be rounding up cattle.
I knew nothing of horses or cattle but was ecstatic at the thought of doing "cowboy" work.  I don't recall their making a fuss over me but I'm sure there was some discussion about which horse to put the "town-kid" on.  We were done by mid-morning and I'm certain that Jeff and I contributed very little (he even fell off his horse!), but I felt like Charles Goodnight himself. Horses, cattle, leather, ropes, rough talk, snuff ......I had discovered a new element and I wanted in!
Unfortunately, my infrequent stays at Jeff's were as close as I would get to the rural way of life for the next few years.  I didn't know how to go about owning a horse, much less a ranch, and it didn't occur to me to have a serious discussion with my parents about it.  Young as I was, I knew it was unrealistic to think my dad could make that drastic of a career change! I did manage to talk him into a pair of black, bull-hide, high-top Tony Lamas that I wore to school every day (pants tucked in).  During my junior high years, a shared appreciation for sports and farm life made fast friends of Jeff and I.  Like most kids raised in the country, he enjoyed the interaction and activities that trips to town afforded.  I, on the other hand, was always looking for an excuse to spend time at his place near Happy.
Jeff took a great deal of pride in being mentally and physically tough.  He was highly competitive and never missed an opportunity to test his mettle if a worthy adversary was around.  I don't think Jeff liked fighting, but he would not, under any circumstances, back down from a challenge.  He eventually squared off against all the toughs that the rest of us scurried from.  And we celebrated him for it.
Unfortunately for me, he and I were well-matched physically, a fact of which our coaches were well aware.  Whatever the sport, it seemed they took great delight in pitting us against one another.  More often than not, these competitions turned into epic battles of will that left us both utterly exhausted. Looking back, I think I possessed an edge athletically, whereas Jeff was mentally tougher.  Regardless, the experience strengthened our friendship and boosted our self-confidence.
Jeff like to box and, in exchange for room and board, any overnight guest was obligated to go a few rounds with him in the basement bedroom he shared with his brother, Ron. The problem was Jeff only had one set of boxing gloves.  He solved this by employing a pair of discarded oven mitts. Each combatant would receive one boxing glove (to be worn on the dominant hand) and one threadbare oven mitt (for the non-dominant hand). I didn't hesitate when Jeff assured me that he was left-handed.  Only after I got cold-cocked by an oven mitt did I suspect something was amiss!
The second of three boys, Jeff grew up in an environment dominated by male influence and, for lack of a better word, brutality.  Daily life 20 miles ffrom the nearest town allowed for a measure of insanity to be tolerated.  For instance, once, when Jeff's younger brother Ron perceived a bit of condescension in my voice, he determined to kill me with a garden hoe.  Thankfully, I got a good jump and there were no obstacles in my path (I can still hear the swoosh of the blade!). Jeff, and whoever else was around, seemed completely oblivious and unconcerned during the whole fray.  I filed this away and vowed not to cross anyone else as it would be easy to dispose of a corpse that far from civilization!
Hanging with Jeff further legitimized my country boy status, so much so that I began to question it less myself.  That may sound silly, but as with all teenagers, it was very important that I be accepted by the right peers.  Farm and ranch kids are no different from town kids in that they can be a bit cliquish and exclusionary toward outsiders.  Anyway, I was grateful to Jeff and his family for treating me like one of their own, even if it did expose me to a certain degree of danger!
The constant that really bound us together; however, was athletics. Jeff was an excellent football player; not terribly fast or big, but he was all heart and refused to be bested.  He played tight end and while he didn't catch a lot of passes (we didn't throw the ball much), he was a ferocious blocker.  Of course, I played standing end on defense, which meant that I often had the misfortune of facing-off with him during practice.
Jeff also ran track and it's in that context that he made the biggest impression.  It should not surprise anyone that his preferred race was the one most believe to be the toughest:  the 800 meteres.  His heart and determination were always on full display as he rounded the last curve, his body spent and revolting, yet unable to overpower his will to finish strong. We used to say that he looked like he was stomping ants as he ran the final straightaway, so strong was his determination to lift his knees.
For the most part, Jeff's athletic career ended our sophomore year when he tore a knee ligament during football practice.  We remained good friends, but without the constant interaction afforded by athletics, we began to see less of one another.  And so, once again, a significant relationship in my life began to fade.
Jeff is still working cattle near Happy and raising a family with his wife, Leta. He was diagnosed with cancer several years ago and has been in the fight of his life, enduring numerous surgeries and brutal rounds of chemotherapy.  I hadn't spoke to him in years until a few weeks ago when I called to catch up and encourage him.  He sounded good on the phone, but I know the prolonged battle has taken a heavy toll. It occurred to me that only Jeff, with his mental toughness and refuse-to-quit attitude, could have survived as he has.  His heart and determination remain on full display as he rounds the final curve, his body spent and revolting, yet still unable to overpower his will to finish strong."

Thank you so much, Derek. You said it!  He is finishing this race strong.

Love, Leta