Everybody Has Problems

   Thirty-six hours from now, I will have Chemo Round Five flowing into me.  Twelve hours after that I will begin feeling the effects of that experience.  Today I had a CT scan and a PET scan to check the rate of the demise of the cancer inside of me.  You wrap all this up, and it seems as though I still have a lot to face and that I still need the prayers of God's people.  That's true, but there are others right now that are going through hard circumstances, more urgent than what I am facing.  Please pray for them before you pray for me tonight:

• Howie's chemo treatment will happen tomorrow and his body has not yet fully recovered from the last treatment.  To complicate things, his wife Ellie fell, broke some ribs, has a contusion on her lung, and experienced complications from the pain medicine she is on.  Please pray for Howie and Ellie today.
• A friend is very concerned about his roommate who is making poor lifestyle choices.  Pray for Robert today.
• Another Christian friend shared with me that his 17-year-old daughter is dating a boy who is not at all open to the gospel.  Please pray for the salvation of this boy.
• My friend and co-worker Dave has returned to school where he is known and loved following the death and funeral of his father and caretaker.  Please pray that David's future plans stay on track and that housing and transportation can be taken care of.
• Millie died.  She was a cancer buddy I met along the journey I am on.  Please pray for her husband Pete, their children, and grandchildren.  
• My friend's wife has been ill for nearly eight months after experiencing a blockage in a vessel that leads to the brain.  Progress toward health has been slow.  Please pray for Amy today.

   Do you see?  "In this world you will have trouble..."  (John 16:33).  Of course we have trouble in this world.  Just look around.  It is everywhere and all-pervasive.  Why do we as human beings want to ignore this?  It isn't pleasant to think about, it isn't fun to deal with, and it isn't socially acceptable to ask for help or appear insufficient and unable to deal with problems ourselves.  Face it, we are unable to deal with these and other heartaches.  But experiencing such things is a fact of the lives of all -- if not currently, then soon.  But remember how this verse concludes: "...but take heart, for I have overcome the world."  Align yourself with the one who said these words, Jesus Christ.  Claim his promises as yours.  You cannot do this on your own, even if everything right now is going great.  Someday it won't be.
   Thirty-six hours from now?  No sweat.  I know Jesus.  Bring it.

The Sabbath

   I went to church yesterday.  I have been instructed that when I go to such gatherings, I should come in late, sit in the back, and make an escape before the end of the event so that I don't catch something from one of the other random worshippers.  I did all that, and still it was great to get to church.  I suppose one in my condition needs to be aware of such things, but I am glad that I am not a germaphobe by nature.  I think it would take a lot of fun out of life.  Just saying.
   The sermon topic was about the need for the Sabbath in our lives.  I found that to be a bit ironic for me since I have been somewhat "sabbathized" to the point of frustration for a while now.  Of course I am aware that it is not about another set of rules to follow as some traditions will hold (no bike riding, no going out to eat, to television, no work, etc), but instead about allowing rest into our lives because God modeled it.  Its importance is revealed by God during creation when after six days he rested.  God resting -- now that's a concept that throws my head into a spin.  If he is all-powerful, why does he need rest?  I don't think he does, but he was modeling this concept for us even before sin entered the world.  It also shows up as one of the ten commandments and that seals the necessity for such a day as well.
   Rest.  I am trying to do that even though I feel fairly good right now.  I have my next round of chemo (number five out of a total of six) coming on Thursday.  I hate it.  It hits me hard.  Chemo seems to cause more discomfort than the cancer ever did.  In the meantime, I have a PET scan to look forward to tomorrow.  This serves as the opportunity for the docs check out how my innards are doing.  They will be looking for how and where the cancer is abating and compare these findings to a scan I had before chemo started.  I feel as though this is a bit like a quiz.  How are we doing?  Is the medicine working well?  Are there problem areas left?  When I go hunting by myself, I cannot find lumps and bumps anywhere so I have to believe that progress is being made.  I guess we will find out.
   All in all, life is still good.  My daughters are coming to babysit me through chemo this week.  I was able to go to school each of the last two days.  I am sleeping better.  I am still as handsome as I have always been, other than my Michael Jordan haircut.  I continue through this looooooonnngggg Sabbath to have hope for many more years here on earth.  When one has health, one takes it for granted.  Celebrate your health today.  By the way, if you rest every so often -- like one day out of seven -- I am sure that will help too.

Mark

   Mark's funeral was yesterday.  Since Mark had been the director of facilities at my school for about fifteen years (up until a couple of years ago), our principal made the executive decision to have a half-day of school so that all who wished could make the 1:00 funeral service.  It was the right thing to do.  There were several hundred people present for the funeral of a 64-year-old single father of four.  Mark held no professional degrees, never went to college, never sought any form of status in this world.  But he impacted so many.  How?  Well, herein is the lesson God reminded me of while I attended that funeral.
   Mark was a selfless giver.  Many of the people at the funeral had been recipients of his assistance in little and big fix-it projects.  Mark would invite himself over if he knew a friend was doing a kitchen remodel or chainsawing a tree or had trouble with the plumbing.
   Mark would also speak his mind.  Stories abounded of things that Mark said that may have been slightly or grossly inappropriate or offensive.  Often it seemed as though Mark would have to hear his thoughts before he could process his thoughts.  Sometimes it got him into a little bit of trouble.  But Mark was always honest in what he said.
   But Mark also was a smiler who loved people.  He would engage people in one-on-one conversations.  While there were times he showed evidence of being a curmudgeon, underneath that was a "Captain Jack Sparrow" kind of smile that sent the message that everything would be alright.
   There are times following the death of a person when those reflecting on his life sanitize the facts and nostalgically only remember what is good.  This entry reflects that, yet I add the caveat that I know and recognize that Mark was far from perfect, that he had his drawbacks.  But those three qualities I highlighted -- giving selflessly, speaking honestly, loving unconditionally -- are lessons I came away with from the funeral yesterday.
   One of Mark's sons reminded us that the mountains the family is facing right now are so big, so insurmountable.  The depth of the valley they find themselves in is accentuated by the steepness and height of the mountains around them. Getting up and over those mountains seems impossible in their grief-stricken weariness.  But then he pointed out a truth I too am learning...when we are facing mountains, we are more in tune with our own insufficiencies and inabilities and are more ready to ask for, understand, and bear witness to God's goodness and power and love.  He finished his comments with this psalm:

"I lift up my eyes to the hills--

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

the maker of heaven and earth."  (Psalm 121:1-2)

   This short psalm concludes with the promise that the Lord will watch over us both now and forever.    The word "watch" or "watches" is used five times in the span of six verses.  What does this mean?  God knows and cares.  He will watch over Mark's children.  He will watch over each of us who look  for help when the mountains surround us.  After all, out of the mountains comes the help.

Getting Out of the Way for God

   One week from now is Chemo Round Five.  For those of you counting, that means I have four rounds down and two to go.  And after that?  Well, after that is a stem-cell transplant at some time to be determined.  So it is...those are the facts.  But it also means that for the time being, I am feeling fairly normal and upbeat.  I will think about the truck coming around the corner next week but I am not going to worry about it.  Let me enjoy today.
   Today began with meeting with The Boys at 6:00 am.  All five of us were there.  After sharing personal updates and news, our conversation centered on God's word and how we as Americans can twist it and make it say what we want it to say.  We forget context, we forget history, we forget the holiness of it all in an effort to squeeze out of it the message we want it to say at this moment.  Without going further and possibly jeopardizing the confidentiality we have agreed to for our times together, I once again was challenged and encouraged by these guys to keep myself from this trap and to interpret God's word in ways that he wants me to.
   Too often we American Christians look at whatever situation we are in and try to make God's word say something to our circumstance.  We do this all the time.  Scripture is misused to support or justify whatever situation we are facing.  "I can do everything through him who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:13) can become one of those verses.  We want to take this verse like we take the message out of a fortune cookie and attach to it whatever meaning is relevant to us at the moment.  Really? I can?  Me?  I can fly?  I can get an "A" without studying?  I can never be hungry again?  I can slay the giant?  I can beat cancer?  No, we miss out on the message.  The context of this verse is that Paul is discussing all of the hardships he is facing and how he has learned to be content in the hard times, how he has learned to wait on God through difficult experiences.  We emphasize the "I" and forget the "through him" part of this verse.  Paul is saying he has no strength on his own and must rely fully on the spirit of God living in him.  Only through Christ can we survive from day to day.
   We Americans are always emphasizing the "I" over anything else.  This marvelous new fervor to march and protest that is gaining media attention during the first few weeks of the Trump presidency is an indicator of this self-pride.  "I want" and "I believe" is getting so loud that the right of others to stand and disagree is overshadowed.  We as a nation are talking so much that it drowns out the ability to listen.  Without saying it, the faulty thinking that is fueling this fervor ("My voice is more important than your voice and therefore I can learn nothing from you and therefore you are a hater!") is coming through loud and clear.
   OK America, we need to learn this: "Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10a).  Before I am accused of pulling a verse out of context, note the context.  This psalm is filled with noise, chaos, and devastation.  Mountains are quaking, the ocean is roaring, wars are going on, destruction is occurring, and in the midst of this chaos, we get this message of "be still."  But even then, why be still?  Well, it has nothing to do with us.  Instead, keep reading.  God says, "I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth" (Psalm 46:10b).
   Everything we do needs to be about God, not about ourselves.  I will never fly on my own, but God does bless me with opportunities to serve others in amazing ways.  I might face hunger but God will face it with me.  I will never have the ability to do anything on my own strength.  I will not beat cancer, but my God is more than able to if he so chooses.  So be still, America, and look for the one true God whose voice can also get lost in the chaos you are creating.  Sit down, shut up, be still, and notice.  God is still here.  Give him a chance to speak.
   "Lord, help me to be still in the middle of this cancer confusion.  In all of its noise and chaos, let me get out of the way enough to know that you will ultimately prevail in whatever way you choose.  Thank you for always being God, especially in the times when I am too noisy and distracted to realize it.  In whatever my circumstance, be exalted.  Amen."

Death and Introspection

   "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."  

Galatians 2:20

"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord."  

Romans 6:23

      While we each have time on earth, one of the obvious realizations that only fools choose to not evaluate is that all people will eventually die.  When and how we die is the mystery, but the given fact is each will die.  So it is.  Yet when one passes away, it seems to shock and surprise all those around that person.  Now of course, there is the obvious difference between one that dies a sudden or tragic or unexpected death and one that succumbs to a lingering illness after a long life.  Regardless, the actual departure from this world still exhibits a certain finality to it all, a time when "good byes" and "I love yous" are no longer applicable, and that fact can add to the shock of it all.  It makes one think to the old adage, "Everyone wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die."
   I raise this today because a friend of mine died of a sudden heart attack yesterday.  He was 64 years old.  I knew Mark for a long time.  He was a man who loved his four kids and his grandchildren, who served as the sole caregiver for his special needs adult son who now serves on staff at school with me, and gave a lot of his own time to help others fix this or fix that.  I am sad.  I feel for his children.  I understand that feeling of sudden loss because it brings me back to the death of my own father.  But Mark aligned himself with the above verses and lived those out in a blue-collar sort of way.  His security is sure.
   Why talk about this now?  Because I am thinking about it.  This disease I have has caused me to consider some of these things even when I don't want to.  After all, I will survive, right?  I will kick this disease.  I will live a long life.  Really?  Will I?  While that is my plan, I have no guarantee and neither does any other living soul on earth.  But it does force me to ask myself, "Am I ready?"  I am wrestling with this notion of being crucified with Christ and what that entails.  I want Christ to shine through me in everything I do.  I want to know him even more and begin to understand the depth of his love that allows me to recognize the grace he offers when he accepts me as one of his.  I want to do this well so that when I die no one can doubt where my allegiance is.  Jesus told his disciples, "In my Father's house are many rooms.  I go there to prepare a place for you...I am the way, the truth, and the life.  Nobody comes to the Father except through me" (John 14). While this is not politically sensitive and can be considered exclusive (two considerations that are not acceptable by the common thought of the day), I claim it to be true and therefore I am called to follow through with my life on this side of heaven to make this a part of me.
   If nothing else, death must cause introspection.  Grief brings that realization that I have no control on what I hold so dear.  Loss demands that I evaluate life all over again.  This is one legacy that Mark commands each of us to do.  Do it now.  Think about these things.  Mark, Dana, my father, and a host of those who have gone before us are reminding us of the importance of this.  Thank you, Jesus, that life is not over when life on earth is complete.  Teach me what it means to be crucified with you so that I can live on this side of death with the joy and hope of a secure future.  Amen.

Celebrating Mom

   My mother celebrated her 81st birthday yesterday.  Life is filled with celebratory days and holidays, even to the point of contriving them for the sake of capitalistic gain (what?  You think Bosses Day and Sweetest Day and Favorite Second Cousin's Day are actually ordained by God?  I think not.)  But unlike other holidays, I like birthdays because for one day we do not celebrate an event or a role, but a person.  My mom celebrated her way while in Florida with her sister: went birdwatching, had a hamburger, and played some cards.
   When a person reflects on the word "mother," one can get nostalgic and with good reason.  For me, the word indicates a role that has been and can be only filled by one person, and even though the role is often filled imperfectly,  the nostalgia of it all is forgiving and endearing.  In 1 Corinthians 13, love is described this way: "It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres" (1 Corinthians 13:7).  I think that "love" and "motherhood" are quite synonymous.
   Why do I mention all of this?  I spoke to my mom yesterday and she asked me how I was doing.  I told her that this round of chemo seems to have taken away the appetite for anything for a longer time period than the other rounds.  I told her I was a little frustrated with how slow I was recovering and how much more I had to go.  She listened, and I could tell that while she was thinking of something encouraging to say, there was nothing insightful that could be said.  But I know she needed to know.  Always protects...always hopes.
   When one is going through hard things, it is good to have a mother around.

Waiting and Hoping

   I am on my way back downtown for more lab work today.  The sun is shining (a welcomed surprise), I am still not hungry (no surprise), and I also have little energy (also no surprise).  But I am buoyed by the idea that my children have Friday and Monday off from school so that means more cribbage, Monopoly, and maybe a road trip somewhere just to get out of the house.  That would be good.  I received a care package of sorts from the French class at school.  In it were some random items that made me smile, including one of the least expensive "paste-on-the-wall" basketball hoops that has ever been manufactured.  I think that one will stay in the package and be permanently hung up at school somewhere.  I can see some blow-out games of hoops coming soon!
   Psalm 130 is from a collection of psalms called "songs of ascent."  According to tradition, these were sung by the Jewish travelers on their way to worship in Jerusalem.  They were on their way expecting the City of David to welcome them as worshippers of the one true God and are filled with hope and expectation.  In Psalm 130, the words "wait" and "hope" are used in comparison to each other:

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

and in his word I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord,

more than watchmen wait for the morning,

more than watchmen wait for the morning.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord,

for with the Lord is unfailing love..." (Ps.130:5-7)

    As I wait, is my hope increasing?  Do I always remember that with the Lord there is unfailing love?  I have gone through times lately where waiting and hoping are two different entities, but they should work in partnership.  This was my not-so-subtle slap upside the head that God delivered today.  "Wait and hope" does not mean "wait or hope."  Expectation must accompany the waiting, for in that hope is unfailing love.  Thanks God.  I will try to do better.

Complaints and Blessings

   Chemo Round Four has not been easy.  I hate chemo almost as much as I hate cancer.  The unsettled stomach, the constant queasiness, and the consistent exhaustion all lead me to the brink of never wanting to do anything ever again.  This is not good.  This is not me.
   That's how I feel.  Identifying it helps me to conquer it -- well, at least to know what I need to fight against.  So I think I have my marching orders for today: to keep going forward, even though energy and appetite are lacking.  I have had some real bonuses today and need to be reminded of them:

• My school system's chief administrator called to ask how I was doing and to bring me up to speed on available sick days -- of which there are none -- but I definitely heard a man who is willing to be in my corner.
• My school will be hosting a benefit dinner for our family next month -- as if they haven't done enough already.  
• I started a conversation with Adam today, a young father from our school who has been diagnosed with a brain tumor.  Hard times can begin good friendships.  
• Morgan's mom brought a wonderful dinner last night and with it was a card from Morgan, one of my students.  It was an unexpected blessing.  
• Tim Shaw spoke last night at East Kentwood High School.  Two of my sons accompanied me.  Don't worry -- Ben drove.  But the evening was great. Tim is the man.
• While there we sat with two friends, Rob and Steve, whom I haven't seen in too long.  They were an encouragement to me.  

   I gripe, I complain...and everywhere I go I am blessed.  Thanks, God.  I know...just wait.

An ALS Warrior

   Mr. Tim Shaw will be speaking at 7:30 tonight at East Kentwood High School in Grand Rapids, MI.  I have known Tim since he was a little kid running around Upper Peninsula Bible Camp.  That was long before he became a noted high school athlete, a Penn State linebacker, an NFL special teams star player, and an ALS warrior.  His book, Blitz Your Life, has just been released and is on sale.  He also recently returned from a trip to Israel that allowed him to both tour the Holy Land a bit but also to have a stem-cell transplant that will hopefully abate the ravages of ALS.
   Tim and each of his three brothers -- Steve, Drew, and Peter -- have grown into manhood and each does it well.  Today each one is a leader in their respective communities (Steve is the musical kid in the group and became a band instructor while both Drew and Peter are coaches).  But Tim's story is compelling in its own way.  An incredible high school athletic career led him to a Penn State University football scholarship.  But his six-year stint in the NFL was cut short when Tim noticed mysterious weakness and tingling in his right arm.  The diagnosis of ALS was soon to follow.
   What makes Tim such a compelling figure though is how he uses this situation to point toward his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  He has never wavered from this and to this day stands like a warrior on behalf of the goodness of Jesus.  If you are reading this and are not familiar with Tim's story, please stop reading this and just Google the name because some incredible stories will show up.  I say all this because I want to be like this man.  "Lord, bless Tim today.  Continue to use his life and his witness to glorify yourself through this experience, but also I pray that my life is an adequate  reflection of your love and goodness to us just as Tim's is.  Amen."
   If Tim is going to be at East Kentwood tonight, maybe I should go.

Chemo: Round Four

   The truck came around the corner and hit me again, and even though this has happened before, it is not something I can get used to.  I had Chemo Round Four on Thursday and an extra bag of fluids added to my system yesterday (thanks for chauffeuring Kevin!).  This has become standard procedure for me .  I was feeling fairly decent through the day but soon after supper the queasiness and exhaustion hit me and I was a worthless pile of rags for the rest of the evening.  I am feeling though that the truck that hit me is just a full sized pick up and not the semi I have experienced before.  This morning I still have not thrown up (this is good) but the urps* and the burps are constant and the upset stomach seems to always be on the move.
   OK, that sounded overly dramatic.  Sorry about that.  But the facts are that I am 48 hours post-chemo and, while I don't feel that great, I am alive and I have all that I need.  Right now all I need is a cup of hot tea and a vacant bathroom nearby.  Hot tea?  Check.  Vacant bathroom?  That's always the question around here.  But if history repeats itself, tomorrow will be better than today.  Time to go lay on the couch like a pile of rags and hope the bathroom is vacant more often than not.

*urp - defined as a surprise burp that emanates from deep inside one's very being and erupts very quickly and ferociously, shaking the entire body and often leaving a bad taste in the victim's mouth.  Just thought you ought to know.

The News of the Transplant

   I had a full day today -- labs (not the dogs but the blood draws), visit with the doctor, then Chemo Round Four.  My daughter Kate came up from Ohio to just hang out with me for the duration of the day and to get beat in cribbage.  Right now, all is relatively well.  I had a bit of a mental set back that I since have had time to process, but it was disappointing when I heard it.  The doctor informed me that with the rare strain of lymphoma I have, he is advocating for me to finish the chemo rounds, but then I will also be having stem cell treatments.  This will mean a two-week stay in the hospital with heavy chemo during that time.  They will take cells from me, cultivate them, and then put them back in.  At least that is how I understand the process to work.  While I am the patient, I am a simple-minded one and did not fully comprehend all of what will go on or even all of what the doctor said.  At first, this was a big disappointment to me.  I wanted to be done with this when the chemo rounds were done.  But Connie, Tom, Lynn and my mom each had the chance to talk me down a bit.  If this is going to increase the chances that The Big Nasty is going to get its butt kicked,  I have to go through with it.
   So what does this all mean?  Well, it means I am still not in control of my own schedule, much alone my own destiny.  At this point that news should come as no surprise to me or anyone else.  I am hoping that I can still return to school after spring vacation and postpone the hospital stay until the first two weeks of summer vacation.  That would be what I want to do.  I guess we will have to wait until early April when I have a pre-consultation meeting (Why is it a "pre"-consultation?  I don't know.  I am the simple-minded one, remember? But honestly, that is what the doctor called it.)  In other words, we will proverbially cross that proverbial bridge when we proverbially get to it.  Interpreted, that still means, "One day at a time, sweet Jesus..."  I guess it is time for me to live that out all over again.  OK then, let's go.  God, my family, my friends, you and me - we are all a part of the team.  Bring it.  Let the battle continue.

"Have I not commanded you?  

Be strong and courageous.

Do not be terrified;

do not be discouraged, 

   for the Lord your God will be with you

wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9)

The Waiting

   In 1981 Tom Petty sang, "The waiting is the hardest part..."  Please understand that I know that looking for wisdom that emotes from American pop music lyrics is dangerous.  Understood and noted.  But Tom Petty was on to something when this song was released.  We all like doing, performing, being busy, fulfilling what we were called to do.  The waiting does not seem to fit with the nature of who we are.
   In the Bible, the book of Numbers reminds us that the people of Israel were forced to wait on God.  In Numbers 9, God is represented by the cloud that descended on the tabernacle.  If it stayed there, the Israelites stayed.  If it lifted, the Israelites moved.  "Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when it lifted, they would set out.  At the Lord's command they encamped, and at the Lord's command they set out" (Numbers 9:22-23).  David Roper, in his book In Quietness and Confidence, writes this: "Waiting is not an interruption of our journey but an essential part of it.  Without delay we could never make the most of our lives.  It's one of the ways God effects the ends on which he has set his heart." Sit down...shut up...and wait.
   Tomorrow is Round Four of Chemo.  Tomorrow, not today.  I am ready to go now.  I am ready to get it all taken care of so I can move on with my life.  But that is tomorrow and beyond.  For now I wait.
   I have been confronted lately with examples of young adults I know who have given up their faith.  I see it in different ways, from the flat-out denial of God's existence to the political rants on Facebook that are based on myths and half-truths and are laced with a good amount of hatred.  I see it in broken relationships and misguided allegiances.  I see it in lifestyle choices that can only be made when God and his word are thrown out of the picture.  God's ways are inconvenient and bothersome to what we want to do.  They seem to take away from the individual's autonomy and self-determination.  God's ways get in the way of our ways.  We want (fill in the blank) and we want it now.
   Waiting is hard.  But we tend to forget that God wants what is best for us.  If that means we have to wait for it, then we should wait.  If that means that I don't get what I want, perhaps it is because what I want is not good for me.  But through it I cannot deny his existence.  So I wait.  This I know: God is alive and working in our lives.  He gives us what we need when we need it.  He protects us from ourselves.  He wants what is best for us and he promises a greater home for those who accept his promises.  A more recent hymn from my faith by Bill Gaither says this:

"Because he lives, I can face tomorrow

Because he lives, all fear is gone.

Because I know he holds the future

And life is worth the living just because he lives."

   So sit down, shut up, and wait.  It has never been easy, but it is what has to be done for now.  Tom Petty was not far off.  Now I understand it better too.  

Monday, Monday...

   Three days from now I receive Chemo Round Four.  This morning most people have no idea that is in my future.  Instead they are dealing with other improbable things like the Patriots amazing come-from-behind victory over the Falcons last night and the unanswerable question about how the weekend got away from each of us so quickly.  Work places have deadlines this week, students have assignments due or tests to take, others have job interviews coming up, and it is time to start gathering all the necessary paperwork to get the taxes taken care of.  But Thursday is my next big day.  It is strange how the appointments of this world seem to melt away from me when I have this big truck revving up and ready to come around the corner to smash me again.  This one will be tougher too because my bride is not well.  Connie has had the cough/flu/yuck for several days now and still cannot get over it.  She has always been with me at chemo treatments and doctors appointments and her presence and the strength that goes with it will not be available to me this round.  She goes back to the doctor today to see what can be done to get her back on top of things.  The kids went to school but there was some unnecessary drama with our youngest daughter that had her leaving the house in a huff.  This all adds up to a less-than-ideal way of starting a new week.
   So let's see what transpires.  Work is still happening somewhere.  School goes on.  But then so does my waiting.  But before you see this entry as one big Monday morning downer, please know we are still encouraged.  I participated in some uplifting and positive distractions this weekend.  I was able to go to church yesterday.  I was able to spend a few hours with some of my siblings watching the Super Bowl yesterday.  I was able to take in a couple of very good high school basketball games this weekend.  I was once again able to beat my youngest son in Monopoly (What is my secret?  Show no mercy.  That, and getting hotels on the orange properties as soon as possible). I still have good things happening.  I still have God working through all of this.  I still have blessings beyond compare.   And while I still have Chemo Round Four coming around the corner, that means that Chemo Round Three is behind me, Chemo Round Two is six weeks back, and the nightmare of Chemo Round One is ancient history.  So let's keep going.  Chemo Round Four - bring it.
 

Mike, Tiniki, and Cam

   I play Ruzzle.  It is a game on my phone that is a race against time to see how many words the participant can find in a four-by-four grid.  My daughter Kate showed it to me a while back.  She knows the interest I have in those quick kinds of mental challenges.  When one plays, he is playing against an opponent from somewhere else in the world.  You seldom know who these people are.  Each of us has our "gamer name" (by the way, I am bigdaddio2) and one earns points for various things.  Sixteen letters, two minutes, one opponent, and off you go.
   One fun feature of this game is the chat.  It is a built-in texting program that will allow players to have conversations with other random players.  My daughters and son-in-law make sure that they play me every so often and then the chat becomes a little encouragement mixed in with a little trash talking (although when they call me "Chemo-Brain" I think it is more out of pity than out of ridicule -- at least that is what I would like to think).  Most opponents will use the chat to say things like "nice round" or "great job." Only a few use it to downplay their opponent.
   I have met a few people through chat:

• Mike is an aspiring writer from Missouri who is now praying for me.  He lost his father just about the same time my father died.  We are now Facebook friends.  He has told me he is reading this blog every so often (hi, Mike!)  
• Tiniki is the mother of four little children and she lives in Philadelphia.  She is active in her church and also works with young people.  She just returned from a weekend retreat she said was wonderfully enriching.  She is also praying for me.  
• Cam is not a Christian but a good Ruzzle player.  He lives in Florida and we have just recently started a conversation about cancer and Jesus and things of more importance than Ruzzle.  We will see what comes of that conversation.

   You just never know.  The more I play this game, the more I realize that ultimately it is all just a waste of time.  If I was well, I would probably not be playing very often, but now that I have all of this time on my hands, I find myself playing several times a day.  But then maybe it isn't a complete waste of time after all.  It seems to me that God is so big and so creative that if he wanted to he could even use a game like Ruzzle as a means of building his kingdom.  I wonder if Cam is ready to play...and chat.  We'll see.
 

The Psychologist

   I had a doctor's appointment today, although this was the first time I met with Dr. Porter.  He works at the cancer/hematology treatment center I go to but I had never met with him before.  He is the psychologist that works with the patients that come in and out of the center.  He asked me how I was doing.  Now I have never really been one of those people that tracks and chronicles the feelings I have or the thinking that is going on.  I am a doer and it has frustrated me that I have had to put a moratorium on my activity.  But sitting down to talk about my thoughts and feelings during this process was a new thing for me to do with someone I had never met.  He was a kind man, and I feel like our conversation was never lacking for substance.  He told me that some of what I was thinking about the impatience and the desire to get back to normal life was very typical.  I figured that.  He supported the decision to take advantage of the short-term disability policy from work, saying it is definitely the best way to go, especially for a teacher.  I figured that too.  He was kind and let me just talk about myself, which is something I try not to make a practice -- I would rather hear the stories of other people.  But no one else was in the room so I talked about myself, my family, my support system, and just what I do with my time while I am waiting.
   When I left, I felt a little normal for a moment.  That was good.  He verified that everything I was fearing and thinking and going through was actually all within the range of typical.  While I still don't like to talk about myself too often, this was verifying and worthwhile for me to hear.  Normal.  Typical. To know that my thinking and emotions and mental health are even now in the range of normal and typical was good to hear today.  When those two words get attached to my physical health in a couple of months from now, that will be good too.
   One week from now, Chemo Round Four will happen.  After that I have only two rounds left.  We are getting there.  For now, I will be content to feel normal and typical, even for a moment or two.

The Chairs

   Sometimes when I write these entries I scramble for an idea or a starter.  Sometimes these ideas are based on my personal health conditions at the moment.  Sometimes they spark from something I have read or learned.  Today I was painting chairs.
   We received a new kitchen table from Kyle and Michelle.  They also brought along a matching bench and the two pieces look beautiful.  But we decided to take the five walnut-brown-stained captain's chairs we had with our old table and paint them white.  Each one has multiple spindles and leg supports and nooks and crannies and weird little angles.  Complicating things of course is that I am covering a dark brown surface with a white paint on a smooth surface, all of which you understand means multiple coats.  The process is started.  One or two chairs at a time come down to the basement with me, get their initial treatment, sit there during the obligatory drying period, get their next coat, and so on.  Use the brush, wash the brush, let the brush dry, put the brush away, and repeat often.
   Why bother saying this?  Well I just wish to inform you that the white chairs that have been completed look doggone good by the table.  I can honestly say that I am proud of the change.  But it takes time...it is all a process.  When my friend Tom went through his two bouts with lymphoma, he informed us that he had a verse that was becoming his theme during his treatments.  Job 23:10 states, "But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold."  This repetitive cycle of testing is what I am experiencing as well.  I also have my obligatory "drying" periods -- like now -- where it seems as though nothing is happening but it is still a part of the process.  I have to just sit and be patient just like those chairs.  When finished, the improvement is obvious and lasting.
   When this journey I am on is all over, I do not want to say that I have conquered cancer.  I don't want to be identified as a "survivor."  I am not planning on having some grand and glorious tattoo emblazoned on my chest that proclaims that I have defeated this enemy.  But I will have the chairs.  They will remind me.  When I sit on any one of those chairs, I will remember the process that made them look so good.  But I think I should let them dry first.