Home Again

   We are at home again...well, our home that was once our home that has been more of a home for a longer time than any of our other homes. We are spending the week as participants in Upper Peninsula Bible Camp's Family Camp Week.  Our family is represented by four generations -- Connie's parents and my mother have come along, two of our children (Tem and Tessa) and our grandson Jesse as well.  This week is designed to spend time with each other and to learn and grow together.  The schedule is low-key and not hurried.  It is a little difficult to acclimate to such a schedule, especially for me since I almost always have a leadership role of some type when I am here.
   But what makes this our home-away-from-home is that we were on staff here for four years, Connie worked here as a teenager, our older children have worked here in various capacities, and I have served on the board and as a trip leader and speaker quite often. This has gone on for more than thirty years.  Whenever my family hears the word, "camp" this is the only place that comes to their minds.  While the word describes a place, the power of camp memories is rooted in the people.  The place can evoke great memories, but the great memories spring up from the strong and deep relationships that are formed at this place. Many of these relationships become life-changing and indelible.
   The common factor of each of these relationships is the bond we have in Jesus Christ.  The stories that echo around this place of the saints of old remind us that this bond transcends time.  Began as a mission camp in 1936, it now serves this region with various programs all year long.  People drive from Detroit, Chicago, Grand Rapids, and various places throughout the midwest to spend time of renewal.  Buildings and programs have been built up by people with faith and understanding that only comes from God.  As years pass by, the camp only gets stronger and more able to fill the spiritual needs for people while also providing great experiences and accommodations.  Home.  
   My health?  Good.  I am tired, but appetite seems to be returning slowly.  It is hard to run and jump and move, but I hope I can be more of a worthwhile camper this week that I could have been a few weeks ago.  I went kayaking this morning but basketball still is bit difficult.  Shooting the ball is hard when one has no leg muscles and no arm muscles.  Come to think of it, even though I haven't taken a nap in a couple of weeks, today I think I will.  After all, I am home.

The Longevity of a Blog

   Connie asked me yesterday how much longer I was going to be using this blog as a platform to keep my friends and family updated regarding my health.  It is a fair question at this point because the updates have been quite mundane lately and progress towards complete recovery has been slowed just as we had anticipated.  I stand at Day +63 since my transplant and I am recovering well.  The major stepping stones of this journey with lymphoma seem to be behind me.  God has led me through this crazy episode and I am looking forward to more years of health.  
  To answer my wife's question, I don't know.  This writings collected here have served the purpose I had hoped.  It allowed so many people to be updated without me having to field constant phone calls and texts.  It gave people the opportunity to pray for specific details of my recovery process.  It allowed me to offer others the insights of what God was teaching me through his word and through this experience.   God has been so good.  In many ways, I am almost to the point of being ready to change my focus from being a person with cancer who is struggling with the pressures of life to being a person without cancer who is working at being a better dad and husband and teacher and friend.  For so long my outlook on life of who I was and what I needed was colored by my health status.  Since the end of October, my health has been the overriding demanding factor that dictated how I had to live. That overwhelming characteristic is soon to be in my past.  I can focus my attention on other matters and not so much on my blood counts, my weight, and my doctors' appointments, and my meds.  I want to be normal again.
   How much longer will I produce the entries for this blog?  I don't really know.  I don't feel the need to notify the world in a continual fashion that I am still tired and I am still skinny and I still have to wear my gloves and mask.  At the same time, there will be a moment when God really shines through, or a prayer concern that arises that I would like to pass along to people.  I think I will keep the option open because this blog project has become a friend of mine, something I look forward to tending.   I have been blessed through it and I don't think I want to give it up completely.  The catharsis I have found in writing has been good for me.  For now, let's keep it going.  Soon school will start and I will be just a normal teacher again...too busy planning and grading to be concerned with blogs or cancer.  I will be a normal teacher, but one with a new perspective on the value of life and the power of God -- and if I forget any of those lessons I have learned, I will have this collection of writings to remind me.

   (By the way, Connie and I celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary tonight.  I had a five-ounce "taster" beer, my first beer in almost a year.  I love my wife.  I might even learn to like beer again. The next challenge is to regain the taste for coffee...)

One of Those Days...

   It's one of those days...not a lot of excitement, not a lot on the agenda, and not a lot of creativity or energy flowing through my soul.  It is the one day this week that is free from hoopla and marching brass bands.  Want proof?  Here goes:

• On Sunday, July 23, my niece Julia, who has lived in Boston for the last three years, moved home to Grand Rapids...for two weeks.  She then will be on the move to Richmond, VA.  My nephew David and his wife from Memphis, TN just so happened to also be in town this weekend for a wedding. So obviously a great big Warners/Hilbrands Family party was necessary.  It was a lot of fun.
• Yesterday (Monday, July 24) marked the tenth anniversary of Maggie's death (Maggie is my sister's daughter who died suddenly at age 12).  
• Yesterday was also the sixth wedding anniversary for my daughter Abby and her husband Steve.  (Congratulations, you two!) 
• Tomorrow (Wednesday, July 26) is my daughter Kate's birthday. (Happy Birthday, Honey!)
• Thursday, July 27 is our wedding anniversary.  Now let me explain.  Contrary to what you might be thinking, we did NOT have a baby one day and then decide to get married the next.  We were actually married one year and 364 days BEFORE Kate arrived. I sensed it was imperative to clarify that for some of you.  
• On Friday, July 28 we will be meeting our grandson and bringing him back home for a one-night slumber party so that...
• ...on Saturday, July 29, we can all go together to Upper Peninsula Bible Camp for the week.

   Do you see what I mean?  Today is the ONLY day this week without some kind of emotionally exciting event(s) happening. If there is a good day for a boring health update, today is that day.  I should remind you that in my case, the word "boring" indicates good news.
   Once again yesterday I met with my transplant team to review plans and progress.  I had some questions for them and even received answers for some of those questions.  Overall, all is still well.  I gained all of four pounds in the last two weeks (I am glad I put those rocks in my pockets before stepping on the scale) and the other numbers are still all within the realm of "normal."  I am allowed to start driving longer distances as long as I have a responsible driver along with me (makes me feel like I am 15 years old again).  I have permission to start school in a month (and this is by choice, unlike how some of my students will see the opportunity).  I should start tasting food as food again soon and that should help me gain weight.  I am now allowed to begin doing more exercising to add to my walking regimen, as long as I "don't push it" and "listen to my body," whatever those phrases mean.  My low blood pressure is still a bit of a concern, but the cardiologist is working on that for us.  Progress is coming, but slowly.
   I still find myself being impatient and wanting to know all of the details and the accompanying time frames for just how this journey will all play out.  But I know that is not how this game is played.  I will continue to move forward and try not to be concerned with the details.  I probably tried to do too much yesterday (I didn't "listen to my body" as well as I should have) because I am stiff and sore and tired today.  The doc said there would be days like this.  So much for my excitement about exercise -- that will definitely have to come slowly.
   It's just one of those days...a little blah, a little tired, but better days are coming.  I do have to get these rocks out of my pockets now before Connie runs my pants through the wash.  Thanks for checking in.

Questions

"Many people owe the grandeur of their lives to their tremendous difficulties."

                                                                                               Charles H. Spurgeon

   I have another consultation with the bone marrow transplant team tomorrow and I am ready.  I am ready because I am feeling better, gaining a few pounds (well, maybe two or three since our last meeting), and because there are a few pressing questions I am ready to ask.  During this gathering--as the routine goes--we will do some physical therapy, have my vital statistics measured, donate some blood, analyze the meds I am currently taking, and talk about what I might expect in the next couple of weeks.  I am at Day +59 right now and well on my way to the somewhat arbitrary Day +100 when gloves and mask can come off and life can proceed with an element of normalcy.  Here are some of my questions (and even if the docs don't have the answers for me, I want to ask them anyway):

• When will food taste like food again?  About the only food that tastes like I remember it tasting is grapefruit.  Everything else tastes strange.  Dairy and sweets?  No way.  The taste they give me is just too strange and disgusting.
• When can I be around a lot of people again? I miss church and the chance to go to ballgames and other gatherings.  Can this happen again soon?
• Will I be ready to start school full time a month from now?  Sometimes I think so, other times I have my doubts.  I would like to know the answer to this, but the way things have gone, I probably won't know the answer until I try.
• Why is it so hard to gain weight?  My son Tem has started calling me "Chicken Legs" because they are so frightfully skinny.  I could pose as a poster child for famine relief right now.  I might need to eat straight bacon grease for a few days.
• What should we do about my blood pressure?  Because of meds and/or other conditions, it has been very low for the last few weeks.  Today it was 88 over 60 and that has been typical as of late.  
• When can I drive again?  Connie is having way too much fun and has way too much control over me right now.  Don't tell her, but I think she likes it that way.  Road trips are not as much fun when one is in the passenger seat ALL OF THE TIME.
• When can I start to work out?  I have not be a "working out" type of person for the last twenty years, so I should be well rested.  But I will have to do something to bring this body back up to specified levels of acceptability.  Just walking, shooting hoops with the kids, and splitting firewood for my father-in-law isn't going to suffice any more.
• Why can't the Detroit Tigers get on a win streak? My doctors won't know, but it is still an important question.  
• When will I be able to do even moderate activities without getting tired?  This is improving, but not fast enough for me.

   Yesterday Tim and Tammy took our family for a slow ride down the Grand River and out to Grand Haven on their boat.  It was so much fun.  These friends are a blessing to us.  But Tammy and I were talking for a while while Tim and Connie and the kids were jumping off the boat and swimming.  She lost her first husband to cancer several years ago and understands the meaning of the quote from Spurgeon that started this entry.  She threw a question at me that needs answering too. It is one that she was confronted with and did not want to explore as she watched her husband battle through his disease.  Here it is:

If things stay exactly the way they are today, will you be content?  

   This question is like the cat scratching on the window -- I would like to ignore it, but ultimately I have to open the door and let it in.  There are a myriad of corollaries that go along with this question: 

If things stay the same, will you still proclaim that Jesus and his love is enough for you?  

If things stay the same, will you resist the bitterness that wants to creep in to your life?  

If things stay the same, will you still see life as a genuine blessing?  

If things stay the same, will you remember that death still does not have to be feared?

   I have my questions ready for my medical team when I meet them tomorrow.  I want some answers.  But Tammy reminded me that God has a few important questions for me as well.  I have to keep wrestling with my answers for Him.

The Guy at the Beach

Dear Guy-at-the-Beach,

   While I did not lose sleep over our encounter from last evening at Ottawa Beach, your reaction to seeing me sitting at that table by the pier leaves me stymied.  In the day when anti-bullying campaigns make front page news, your actions proved to me that we have yet to eradicate sheer stupidity in this country.  As you walked by me, I was gloved and masked just as I am supposed to be to protect me from germs or dust.  Your comment about me being a "stupid germaphobe" who was "worried about the AIDS virus or something that might be floating around," cut me at first.  I soon allowed the shock of the comment to pass by, but then anger rode in.  I know -- being the first-rate idiot that you are should remind me to dismiss your moronic response immediately.  After all, you may have been raised in a home where you were never taught that being such a jerk is unacceptable.  Therefore, perhaps you have learned that you should not be blamed for your actions.  That is what our world tells you.  And I get it -- you were trying to be funny for the young 20-something friends you were hanging with while offering your worthless comments in a purposely loud enough voice for me to also hear.  The encounter forced me to make a snap decision.
   I opted to ignore you.
   Why argue with a fool?
   It was the right choice, but I will tell you I thought about getting up and hitting you in the face.  I probably would have if that was my child or my wife you were insulting.  I think I have been in only two fist fights in my life (both before I was fifteen years old -- won one, lost one), but you were close to being my third.  I thought about the risk of becoming stupid myself (your condition can be contagious) just for the privilege of dealing with you the old fashioned way.  I would have tired quickly, but that is fine...I would have had time to recover on the ride home.
   As a white male, talented and smart and especially good-looking (ahem), I have had very few unkind slurs and flat-out meanness directed at me overtly during my growing-up days.  I understand that others have been victims of cut-downs and cruel words far more often than I have.  Perhaps you did me a favor by making me more aware of the power of words.  I am glad for your sake that God loves you.  Right now I am not thankful for the lesson, but I am thankful I did not bother to encounter you at that moment.  It would not have been worth it.
   Please change.  Understand that your bias is only poisonous to you.  But also be careful -- the next old man you insult might just pound your face in.

Sincerely,

Phil Warners

"To laugh often and love much;

To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty; to find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, 

Whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded."

                                                                        Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

 

God Bless the U.S.A.

   NOTE: Everything that follows in this entry could be concluded with the phrase, "...he said to himself."  This is one of those rants that spins into a personal challenge of rediscovering what is true and vital and important in a world that is confused by such things.  Here goes:
    Maybe it is because I have always had an aversion to self-centeredness.  Maybe it is because I have always hated whining in any form.  Maybe it is because I am learning more about the plight of poverty and what it takes to live in a war-torn area and the inherent safety I have that I take for granted in this country.  Maybe my health issues of the last few months have honed my worldview in new ways, allowing me to see more clearly the fallacies of the way we do life in our country.   Regardless of the overriding reason, I have a gripe.  I am frustrated with people who have first-world problems and the ensuing list of American priorities that either stem from or lead us into this sheltered way of thinking.  Television and social media substantiate and encourage this faulty thinking:

• A young professional woman was complaining on Facebook this morning that the health-club in her plush apartment complex was closed for cleaning when she wished to use it.  When describing this, she said, "This really sucks!"
• Another social media post: "...hard to get going this morning without my Starbucks..."
• Network television has a high percentage of pharmaceutical advertisements, promising relief from such maladies as dry eye, indigestion, restless leg syndrome, psoriasis, and dandruff.
• From television we also are reminded daily that each of us deserves the best: the best car, the best sofa, the best loan, the best food, the best anything.  Not much in life is a privilege any more.  Even though I am not sure how we have done this, we have each earned the very best so we should just take it.

   When my thinking starts going in this sort of critical direction, I get judgmental about much of what I see.  Network news becomes worthless blather.  We hyper-focus on inconsequential issues and mindlessly soak in stories with jaded viewpoints.  We highlight the need for technology, better technology, newest technology.  We worry about the unimportant things like name brands, physical appearances, number of calories, types of vacations, and latest trends.  We allow television and social media to define who we are and what we deem as important. Heck, Facebook even keeps track of the number of friends I have.

   Where am I heading with this?  It is time to issue myself another personal challenge.  I must be careful.  I need to remember to sort out was is important and not to get sucked into what is unimportant.  I must teach my children to be critical and to notice the faulty selfish thinking that drives so much of this nonsense.  I must strip away the American influences and rediscover what is really important and how my life can best represent Jesus, his love for this world, and his impact on my life.  Remember the words of the apostle Paul?
"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, what ever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me--put into practice.  And the God of peace will be with you" (Philippians 4:8-9).  

   Learn to avoid nonsense.  Discover what is real.  Represent that to a confused world.  God bless the U.S.A.  We need it.

Sufficiently Thankful?

   It has been fifty-three days since my transplant.  Day +53 finds me still bald, still underweight, and still easily tired.  The notebook that the transplant team bequeathed to me at the start of this process says,

"Staying active helps keep your lungs, heart, bones, and muscles stronger.  Walking is especially good for you...At first, you will get tired fast.  This is normal after going home, but you MUST work on it. Space out activities, do light tasks first, and schedule rest periods into your day.  Push yourself little by little-listen to your body!  Avoid exhaustion.  It could be up to six months before your stamina returns."

   Six months?  Really?  That puts me at Thanksgiving.  Whew...I hope things are somewhat back to normal before that.  Patience...patience...
   I try to remind my children around Thanksgiving time that we should be thankful people more than just on one day a year. Maybe now would be a good time to remind myself.  There is nothing inherently special about the fourth Thursday of November other than a lot of turkeys die in preparation of family gatherings.  But have I been sufficiently thankful the other 364 days of this year?  Despite my health concerns, I do have much to be thankful for.  God has blessed us incredibly this year.  The list generated by counting my blessings is long.  But I have this tendency lately to only look ahead and think, "I can hardly wait until I can be normal again."  I forget.  Remember this story from Luke 17?

  Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed. One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” 
   Check yourself today. Be thankful. Even a bald, tired, underweight old man can find a lot to be thankful for.  I just have to be patient and look around to remind myself of this.

Trust and Obey

   What makes joining up with Jesus and becoming a Christian such a difficult decision for people? What makes consistently living for him so hard?  I am sure that the myriad of reasons that could be listed are varied and individualized.  Some would fall under the category of people not wanting to give up something.  Others may have the wrong picture of what Jesus is asking or (as is more often the case) some may have had a bad experience with the church or with Christians in the past and want nothing to do with "those hypocrites."  Obviously sin is a reason, but so is science.  Some people just need physical proof regarding everything, leaving no room for the element of faith that must precede one's becoming a Christian.  Others will say the Holy Spirit is not prompting certain people to become believers just yet (I would argue this point but not now) while there may be others whose reasons are mixed up with teachings from other religions.  Many people have no understanding nor do they even want to consider the possibility of life after death.  Still others would like to blame a bad upbringing they have had or that they are "too sinful" to experience the love of Jesus.  What it all really comes down to is an unwillingness to be obedient.  "This is love for God: to obey his commands.  And his commands are not burdensome..." (1 John 5:3). 
   As a cancer patient and now a stem-cell transplant patient, I have had to give up control of what I want to do.  I have to obey the doctors if I hope to recover.  This is what is best for me.  I have to take my medications.  I have to follow through on wearing gloves and masks and avoiding crowds.  I have to eat.  When I eat, I have to eat only the foods I am allowed to eat.  I have to do these things well or I will delay my recovery and possibly even get sick again.  It's a simple concept.  I am not as smart as my doctors and my transplant team.  I don't always know why I must do things in a certain way, but I have to trust that what they are telling me is sound advice meant for my own good. It would be foolish to disregard their parameters.  I don't go off on my own and self-medicate and be careless with what may hurt me.  It is all really being like a child again.  I am compelled to obey.
   When my son Ben was two years old, he wandered out into the street in front of our house after I had told him not to go.  I hustled right behind him and walloped his butt.  I did not reason with him and explain it all to him.  My understanding of what could happen was far more advanced than his at that point. But everything else in my nature and my relationship with Ben was about my love for him so eventually I would hope that he would come to subconsciously understand that I spanked him out of that sense of love I had for him.  My rules were made for his protection.  My actions were done for his safety.
   Obedience is what allows us to see God more clearly.  We don't always understand why we are asked to obey, but only through obedience can we begin to understand the depth and wonder of God.  "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God" (Matthew 5:8).  I want to "see" God. I want to know him and be known by him and experience him and be counted as one of his.  I must trust his Word and strive to live obediently.  "If you love me you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15).  A cancer patient must follow the protocols of the health care professionals or pain and suffering will ensue.  The two-year-old must learn very quickly about the street from his parent or grief and profound sadness will be the consequences.  I must learn to set aside self and pride and sin and choose trust and obedience, even if rationalizations and justifications will try to open the door to do what I think is best for me.  Obedience is never easy, popular, and it is seldom politically correct by today's standards.  It is frequently mocked or labeled as "intolerant" or "archaic." Nonetheless, it is vital to knowing God.
   What makes being a Christian so difficult?  Pride, arrogance, selfishness, sin.  I do my best to choose trust and obedience.  And when my attempts at obedience fail, I thank God for grace...another topic for another day.  Amen.

   (NOTE: At school, my students know that every so often I will lapse into "Preacher Phil" mode, an alter-ego of mine who gets rolling like a Southern Baptist pastor and whose own words can act as gas on a fire.  That just happened here.  But I hope that you are challenged.  I know I am. I hope that this entry was even a little offensive. "Amen!" and "Preach it!" are typical responses in many churches, but if you disagree with what I have to say, I would love to open a dialogue with you.  Heck, I have the time.  In the future, I will try to rein in "Preacher Phil" a bit and not let him get out of control too often.  Connect with me at: pwarners@grcs.org.  Shalom.)

Journeying

   It is Day +49 since my transplant.  The doctor continues to remind me that the recovery is a marathon and how I should not expect to see rapid-fire results.  My appointment yesterday with the bone-marrow transplant team went well.  The lab results are good.  Everything is on target and the medical professionals are pleased with my progress.  My remaining symptoms are all within the range of typical.  Some highlights from the labs include:

Potassium -- 4.7 (up from 4.4 two weeks ago)

White Blood Cells -- 7.55 (up from 4.19 two weeks ago)
Magnesium -- 2.0 (up from 1.8 two seeks ago)

Hemoglobin -- 11.2 (up from 10.2 two weeks ago)
Neutraphil Absolute -- 2.98 (up from 2.11 two weeks ago)

   These are all the good numbers.  About the only questionable stat is my weight.  I am down to 153 pounds when I should be in the 180-pound range.  Food is still not tasting good and so I need to look at food differently and just keep putting it into myself without expecting that hunger and taste will motivate me to do so.  I am constantly tired and even just walking up a flight of stairs gets me winded to the point of having to sit down.  This whole process is truly a journey.  I have very little power to speed it up at all -- there are circumstances and ground rules surrounding this experience that make the recovery process different from any other health challenge I have been through.
   When I first began this adventure back in late November, I was encouraged to start this blog and even somewhat flippantly called it, "The Journey." That label is now more true than ever.  This could never be called, "The Errand" or "The Inconvenience" or "The Time-Out." It has truly become a journey.  Like some journeys, I am always trying to move forward but don't always know where I am or how much longer it will take.  It is a bit like what Merriweather Lewis and William Clark might have gone through while recruiting men for their explorations out west in 1803: "We are going West, boys. We don't really know where we are going. We know the trip will be over when we find an ocean, but we don't know how far away that is.  We are simply asking that you trust us for no reason whatsoever.  We will most likely be gone for years.  We don't know what we will see or find or experience, and there is no guarantee you will ever make it back.  Don't expect safety and comfort.  In fact, there will be dangers, hardships, cold, hunger, illness, but we just don't know when any of that will happen or where or how bad it will be.  Basically, we don't know what you will experience along the way.  We do know it won't be fun.  Wanna sign up?"
   The stories of journey have encouraged me in the past, from backpacking stories to old fur trappers' journals to "against-all-odds" survival tales.  One of those stories I have read before and have been reminded of lately (because my son is currently reading it) is The Only Road North by Erik Mirandette.  Four guys...four motorcycles...9000 miles...from South Africa to Egypt.  So much is outside of their control as they experience this trip.  Even as they revel in their arrival in Cairo, their final destination, they are met by a terrorist's bomb that rips their worlds apart and forces this journey to continue. But the journey is now about regaining health and confidence and faith despite the death of one of the four travelers.
   I am at the point of my journey where my life is not in jeopardy so I don't wish to be overly dramatic.  But I do understand the need for patience, for perseverance, for not worrying about tomorrow, for being content despite uncertainty.  We keep going.  I now understand a bit more about not knowing the future.  I have a better understanding about not knowing just when this whole experience will come to a conclusion and then what that conclusion will look like. It doesn't package up neatly that way at all. "Once day at a time, sweet Jesus..." is still the truth I strive to assume and one I must continually learn to cherish and embrace.


   (By the way, read the book.  The Only Road North by Erik Mirandette -- copyright 2007. Published by Zondervan Publishing Company, Grand Rapids, MI. 49530)
 

A Challenge

   Yesterday was my niece's birthday.  Maggie would have been 22 years old yesterday.  But her life was interrupted ten years ago when she was hit by a softball in the head.  My sister and her husband have spent the last ten years grieving and striving to move on and frankly have done so as well as they could manage.  But the hole that Maggie's absence leaves in their hearts is difficult to comprehend, much alone conquer. The moments of despair that they must endure every so often still occur.
   Yesterday Dewey died.  He was 87 years old and his health was fading.  He had been a doctor here in town, raised his family, and enjoyed life.  While his family will definitely miss his presence, what is it about death that somehow makes the tragic nature of Maggie's departure seem worse and more catastrophic than Dewey's death?  Each is gone, and since each was a believer in Jesus, we know that each of them is in heaven now.
   But, oh sure, we could come up with a list of reasons why one type of death seems more sad than another.  Some of those reasons could be based on valid thinking and others may be purely opinions or emotional reactions.  My thinking is leading me in a different direction and I wish to have you think this too: today I wish to challenge you to celebrate the lives of people around you while you have them around you.  Circumstances can change, appearances can alter, and age is relative and ultimately inconsequential.  But death is inevitable.  Rather than being pessimistic about such an obvious truth,  celebrate the living of those close to you today.  None of us will be here forever.  None of us is immortal.  Remind your family of your love for each them today.  Don't miss out.

   UPDATE: I had an echocardiogram yesterday and met with the cardiologist today.  The ol' ticker is improving after being damaged by the chemo and/or the fluid build-up in my lungs from a month ago.  Before this all began, I scored a 58 on some scale (55-60 is optimal).  When I was in the hospital, that number dropped to a 46.  Now I am at 50 with some time and some meds to help.  We keep going.  Thank you Lord.

Steve

I have a neighbor about my own age named Steve.  This guy should give seminars on the topic of "How To Be A Good Neighbor."  His ability to be such a great neighbor hinges on his relationship with Jesus Christ.  For Steve, these two entities go together.  How do I know this?  He tells me.  He talks about Jesus all the time.  Steve will snowblow the walkways of six or seven houses on our street when we get more than a couple inches of snow.  He always waves, always smiles, and is always willing to help out.  Steve is a glass cutter by trade, and showed up at my door last week with ten beautiful glass crosses, about 8" by 12" in size, that can be hung on the wall.  He said I could pass them out to those people I know who are currently going through cancer.  Steve is a cancer survivor and his wife is currently having some health issues too, but he is also keeping watch over me and Connie as we battle our issues.
   I mention this today for a couple of reasons.  So far I have given away four of those crosses to people who have experienced cancer in some form or another.  For those of us who have experienced this kind of hardship, we understand that all of life after cancer must be viewed through the cross, that only because of the love of Jesus can we continue living.  The glass cross is a powerful reminder to me of this truth and the importance of life.
   But I also mention this because what Steve does is not hard.  The "salt and light" of Christianity should begin right in one's own neighborhood.  The kindnesses we can show others should not be about putting ourselves in the spotlight but rather about putting the love of Jesus on display for them.  Steve does this in obvious ways.  I think I need to be more obvious in our neighborhood too.  I don't want Kevin, Brandi, Don, Shelley, Dave, Marcia, James, or any of my other neighbors to miss seeing Jesus in my interactions with them.  Neither do I want them to think of me as a great guy when I help out without knowing where the source of that goodness is.  I need to find new ways to point my neighbors to Jesus.  I need to see each of them through the lens of the cross and help them to see life that way too.
   Thanks for the neighborly reminder, Steve.

 

The Hoop-and-Driveway Project

   The hoop-and-driveway project is done!  Since forever ago, I have wanted to widen our driveway and fix our basketball hoop.  That entire quadrant of our yard to the south of the driveway has been looking worse and worse over the years. The backboard of the old hoop was significantly destroyed by an unnamed son who thought placing it at a lower level and dunking while doing pull-ups was a good idea.  Also, the play area around the hoop was just dirt anyway, and now that Tem plays out there all the time, the dirt was ebbing away and a collection of interwoven roots was what he was dribbling on. If Tem had not been so eager to play, I don't think there would have been any pressing need to do anything out there.  But if he chooses to invest that much time in shooting and dribbling, the least I can do as his father is give him a more decent space to do it in.  Yet when cancer arrived, I felt as if this project would be put on hold for another year.
   But my family and friends...God bless them...got wind of the idea and in less than a month the job is completed.  A large tree was felled without hitting the house, roots had to be popped out of the ground with a forklift, the old goal had to be excavated...cement base and all, dirt was moved so that a form could be set, cement had to be poured and smoothed, a new backboard system had to be assembled ("That's way more complicated than it needs to be," remarked my buddy Joel who can fix and/or build anything.  "I have worked on cars less complicated than that hoop!"), and then today Tem and I finished the last details of the job and set up the hoop with only ten or so spare parts left over.  We need to make some adjustments but the long process is completed.  It took a lot of different people (thanks so much Ben, Gary, Marty, Joel, Doof, Floyd, Micah, Myra, Jan, Todd, Tim, Tem, and probably others) doing their part to get the job done. 
   It is not too much of a stretch to think about how this project represents what I have been experiencing since November when I was diagnosed.  Everybody rallies and all pitch in.  Prayers and food and visits and texts and gifts and everything that was needed was done.  My friends and family and acquaintances and school community have simply excelled all along the way to bless us with skills and talents and empathy and love.  While our driveway looks so much better now,  my body will need just a little more time to adjust and heal.  But with God as the foreman on this job and all of you and the docs and nurses doing their parts, I should be in line to receive the "Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval" soon enough too.  The hoop-and-driveway project was a process that has been finished.  Recovering my health is a process that has not been finalized yet.  But when it is recovered, Tem better watch out because it will be time for me to work some magic out there on that court.

"I Think I Can..." But NO!

   I am blitzed today.  I have this tiredness that is difficult to explain because it is so pervasive.  It starts deep down in the bones somewhere and makes joints ache.  It moves to the mind where any activity is sized up as an enemy.  I would probably do the entire world a greater good today by just going back to bed and not interfering in any way with the ongoing history of mankind.  But Connie was working today so I didn't have that option.  I moved around doing some things, and soon it was hard to breathe.  I took a nap only to wake up more lightheaded and drowsy than when I went to sleep.  I just couldn't move much at all without getting blasted by exhaustion.  I probably had too much fun in northwest Ohio with Jimmy, Kate, and Jesse -- and I think it was mostly the two-year-old's fault.  I'll blame the kid.
   This kind of tiredness comes along every so often and is a great humbler for me.  Unlike the Little Engine That Could, just when "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can," I cannot.  I push things a little too far.  This is different from when I was younger.  Back then (and even now to some degree) I had the heart of an athlete.  As an athlete, one understands that while training and physical fitness are difficult, the hard work makes the person stronger and increases his endurance and betters his performance.  While pain and strain are involved, eventually there is an almost proportional pay-off with how much physical preparation one does and how well one feels and performs.  That is not the case right now.  I just have to be patient and take my time.  There seems to be very little I can do to speed up the process.  I get tired when I walk too far.  Rather than making me stronger, any kind of physical activity seems to set be back.  I wish there was more that I could do to hasten this recovery.
   But then again, why should I think I have any amount of self-governance in this issue?  None of this experience has been convenient or even controllable.  None of it has been easy or pleasant or relaxing or invigorating.  None of it has ever fit on a time table that could be transferred to a spreadsheet.  None of it seems to have patterns of predictability.  Why should I think I can measure and quantify and direct the order of things now?  It is the way it is.  And the good news is that today is now almost behind me now and I get to have tomorrow to try again.  Let's go.

A Small Adventure

   We decided to turn a simple errand into a small adventure.  We have a truck now (well, Connie has the truck -- I still cannot drive much) so thought we should use it for "truck things."  We loaded it down with two mattresses, a box spring, a bed frame, and some random overnight things,  tied it all down with ropes and carabiners, and drove three hours to northwest Ohio to our daughter and son-in-law's house.  The bed needed to be delivered because it is our grandson's new "big boy bed." Since we did not have to be back for Connie's work on Monday, this simple errand that could have been accomplished in seven hours or so has become a Sunday-until-Tuesday getaway.  It makes no sense to drive all that way and not play around for a while with the funniest grandson in the history of the world.

  A simple errand becomes a small adventure though for other reasons.  This is my first overnight experience away from home or hospital in months.  I have to take a lot of meds with me and plan things out differently.  I have to make sure I have a sufficient collection of gloves and masks. I have to think ahead to how much energy I should use for this or that because I don't know if I will have the chance to nap and catch up.    Besides, I may need some of that energy when a ballgame breaks out with my favorite two-year-old.  

   It might be asked, "Why take what is simple and make it more difficult?"  That one has an easy answer.  Simple can be convenient, but what is difficult becomes adventurous, and adventure is life.  This is what living is all about -- laughing with family (we told our grandson to keep his eye on the ball as he was getting ready to hit one off the tee; he took us literally -- see below), playing games, loving, giggling, reconnecting, bringing attention to the intimate again, even if it means leaving home, packing up meds, and getting really tired.

  Simple errands becoming small adventures...it should happen more often.

"Keep your eye on the ball, Jesse!"  Check.

                                       

Stuck In the Here-and-Now

"Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits...

But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord's love is with those who fear him,

and his righteousness with their children's children--

with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts."

                                                                     Psalm 103:1-2; 17-18

   Sometimes I am so "present-oriented" that I just get stuck.  I see and hear and smell and feel and taste what is now, what is right in front of me, what is current.  I have this nasty habit of ignoring - or at the very least, losing track of - the past.  I also do not tend to dwell on the possibilities of the future since they are outside of my control anyway.  The past can get clouded with time and the lessons that should have been learned back then get lost.  The future is yet to be realized and my lack of imagination doesn't help the visionary part of who I should be see further than today.  So I am stuck in the present.
   When this handicap of mine is applied to my physical capabilities, it can get depressing.  The here-and-now results of my cancer and subsequent transplant includes a lack of appetite and a constant exhaustion.  When I move for just a few minutes, I have to sit down and breathe heavily.  I hate that.  But it is my now, my current, my present.  If I was better at remembering how far I have come and gain pleasure and strength in the victories God has allowed me to realize in the past while simultaneously being able to imagine clearly a time in the future when I would be able to walk without tiring and eat to satisfy a deep sense of hunger, the present would not loom so large in my consciousness.
   But this thinking is more debilitating to my spiritual self.  When I am stuck in today, I can have the propensity to forget what God has done for me and through me in the past.  I can minimize his role in my life's story and not see clearly how his hand has guided my life in so many ways.  I may also overlook the power he has as a sovereign God to work in my life next week, next year, down the road.  I see others for who they are now and not always for what they can become through his power and influence.  He will be there as he has promised, ready to bless and lead, but I forget that.  I don't always see it.  Maybe today will be a good day to make adjustments, to refocus and recalibrate.  After all, there's no time like the present.

   "Lord, get my eyes more focused on the past and the future than they are now.  Lessen the importance of this very moment so I can recall what you have done for me in the past and all you will do in the future.  Give me a greater sense of perspective because this will also bring more boldness, appreciation, trust, hope, and courage in what you can do.  Amen."