Shout-Outs

   Nine more days until T-Day.  For a while today, I almost forgot that I had cancer.  I have been feeling well lately, better than I have since about September.  Other than the limited endurance factor, I feel normal.  I have energy.  I am six weeks removed from my last exposure to chemotherapy.  I am excited to be at school, complete with its drama and frustrations (but by the way, if anyone has a recipe for leading graduating eighth-graders out of the doldrums of mid-May, let me know.  Some are suffering from a childhood strain of "senioritis." I am afraid that for some of them, the clowns are packing up the carnival and the train has started rolling out of town).  I almost forgot I had cancer, but then I realized as I felt my head that I am still bald, that I still have these implants -- complete with the dangling udders -- in my chest, that I still have no taste for coffee, and that I have no facial hair.  Oh yeah, that's right.  I still have cancer.  But honestly, it was the first time that I genuinely forgot about the disease even for a few moments...and for those few moments it felt good to forget.
   Since this is my blog, I decide each day how to use it and what to say.  Today I offer a random collection of shout-outs.  If you don't know what these mean, you don't have to.  Just know I appreciate so many people who have blessed and encouraged and upheld me in different ways just lately.  I hope you will be challenged to look for those in your life that deserve your appreciation:

• Dan and Lori -- My wife returned from a weekend with you all refreshed and renewed.  Your friendship means the world to us.  Thank you for taking care of her.
• Bekah -- We ate at Chili's tonight.  You know why.
• Sara, Eric, Anna, Julie, Don, Alex, et. al. -- You all have been so ridiculously patient with me this year.  I did not plan to be a burden to our institution this year and while I cannot really say "I am sorry" for something so far outside of my control, I feel as though I owe you each so much.  You all have rallied around me in ways and at times that you don't even understand.  
• Rob and Lil -- You know why I list you here.  Bless you.  And thank you for loving your son so much.  It has been a pleasure to know you.
• Carson -- Your shaven head means more to Olivia than you will ever know.  Heck, it means a lot to me.  Thanks for shaving your head to show what is in your heart.
• Aunt Ruth -- Praying, reading, giving, riding through this whole thing with us from afar...thank you for paying so much attention to us.
• Roland and Sarah -- Thank you for helping us raise our son and chauffeuring him to places when we could not.  He likes being with you all. 
• Julie -- Same thing as above except insert the word "daughter" for the word "son."  And insert the word "loves" instead of "likes."
• Scott -- It doesn't matter if the conversations we share are at the "Chemo Corral" or in your living room or in my driveway or porch.  They are valued and treasured and God-honoring. We each plan on dying someday, but we also know that cancer will not be the cause.  Respect the enemy, then defeat the enemy.  
• Lori -- I didn't imagine I would have such a consistent cheerleader.  Thanks for the encouragement and the cards and the books and the kindness.  Maybe I will write that book someday.  
• Gary and Marty -- For the tree-and-driveway project, thank you.
• Tom, Tom, Jim, Tim -- As always, bless you boys.
• Connie -- Welcome home.  I love you.  Sleep well.

   Take the time to recognize all of the people who have blessed you and remember to thank God for those folks.  Then turn around and be that kind of person for someone else.  Good night.