Face to Face

   The first week of school is now done. This first week lasted three-and-a-half days.  I know...it hardly counts.  But we will call it a week because those of us who work at school are tired as we get used to "schoolness" all over again.
     One of my goals with seventh graders is to help them understand that the people of the past were real people with flesh and bones and feelings and emotions and such.  At our school we are able to start each day with a Bible reading and devotions. This week I was showing my students (and learning myself) a bit about the reactions different people had when they first met Jesus.  It is a rather interesting exercise because it begs the question, "What would I have done if I had met Jesus face to face?"

• Peter witnessed a miracle of a large catch of fish when he first met Jesus (Luke 5).  His response was one of shame and fear: "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" Yet he soon dropped everything and followed Jesus for the next three years.
• The blind beggar knew that Jesus could heal him (Luke 18).  To get the attention of Jesus, he sat by the side of the road and yelled and screamed, even though the crowds were telling him to be quiet.  His request was simple and straightforward:  "Lord, I want to see."  His faith and persistence were rewarded by Jesus with the miracle of restored sight.
• The twelve-year-old version of Jesus wowed the teachers and the priests at the temple. "Everyone who heard him was amazed of his understanding and his answers" (Luke 2:47).  Meanwhile of course his parents had been looking frantically for him for three days...imagine the anxiety this would cause the typical American parents of today.  Yet Jesus' response was calm: "Didn't you know I had to be in my Father's house?" (Luke 2:49 - italics added). 
• The Roman centurion had a very ill servant and approached Jesus with a request for healing (Matthew 8).  His quiet understanding is fascinating, considering he was a Roman citizen and a leader of soldiers representing Caesar.  "I do not deserve to have you come under my roof.  But just say the word, and my servant will be healed" (Matthew 8:8).

   Ashamed...bold...amazed...contemplative: What would my first reaction have been if I could have met Jesus face to face while he was on earth?  My guess is that I would have been all of those things rolled up into one excitable package.  But perhaps I need to be more in awe of him today.  I never met Jesus in his human form while he was on earth (I am old, but not that old), but I have met and do know Jesus.  He knows and loves me. So where is my awe and excitement?  I don't want to take him for granted.  I don't want to get to be so familiar with Jesus that I forget to be amazed and surprised and humbled.  I should be more amazed than what I am when I think about the Lord.  Being in Jesus every day should always keep me in awe. Perhaps I should meet him for the first time...again.

I can only imagine what it'll be like when I walk by your side

I can only imagine what my eyes will see when your face is before me

I can only imagine...I can only imagine.

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel?

Will I dance for you Jesus, or in awe of You be still?

Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall?

Will I sing hallelujah? Will I be able to speak at all?

I can only imagine...I can only imagine.

I can only imagine when that day comes when I find myself standing in the Son

I can only imagine when all I would do is forever, forever worship you.

I can only imagine...

                                                                                       -- Bart Millard (b. 1972)

The First Day

    We made it through!  Day One of the school year 2017-18 is now completed and I am ready to report that both I and my new batch of Rockford Christian School seventh graders made it through Day One safely.  No tears, no blood, not even too much anxiety.  Without trying to overstate things, being back at school today seemed like the completion of a slow-forming circle to me.  I was in and out of school so much last year--I missed the last month of the 2016-17 year entirely--due to my struggle with lymphoma.  I was not able to finish out the year with my students, and strangely I felt like I was letting them down.  But today I was back with no restrictions.  It just felt good.  The cancer that sidetracked me last year is currently in my history and not my future.  I am tired right now (3:30 pm) but I usually am anyway after the first day of school.  Rumor has it the kids come back again tomorrow so I should figure out what we are going to do with them then, but God has blessed me with a good school, a good job, an unmerited sense of confidence from my peers, and a renewed sense of enthusiasm for all of it.
   Oh sure, there are details and schedule changes and individual needs and lesson plans.  There will be papers to grade and grades to record and parent phone calls and conferences.  Three words I still do not like are "meetings," "agendas," and "committees,"  and all three of these words are a part of this job.  What I am saying is my joy for the job is not purely unbridled and naive idealism.  I understand what I am getting myself back into again...and I still feel like having this job is both an honor and a privilege.  Thank you, Lord, for giving me another opportunity to do this job well.

"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!
Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see!
All I have needed thy hands hath provided.
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me." 

Thomas Obediah Chisholm

(1866-1960)

Hurry Up and Wait

   "The calm before the storm..." is an old figure of speech referring to those few moments of down time just before some big event is going to occur.  My father used to say that the military's version of this concept was expressed as "Hurry up and wait."  Consider a bride waiting for her wedding party to get down the aisle before she is escorted to the front of the church or a basketball team in the locker room just before charging out on to the floor for a big game or a speaker at a big rally just prior to walking on to the stage.  Each of these situations produces a few moments of poignant solitude, a time of transition that is accompanied by a very loud and impatient silence.
   I have worked hard this summer at getting better so that I can return to my life as a teacher. Sometimes that meant just resting or taking a slow walk all the way to the neighbor's driveway, but it was work.  I was soon able to drive my truck without adult supervision.  I found my own way to school to get my classroom ready for the new school year.  Then came the good news that I was actually allowed to start the year with my students.  It seems I have been busy getting ready for this new school year ever since I was diagnosed with lymphoma back in November.  That high-alert mentality intensified this week with association meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday, then a school staff meeting yesterday and an Open House event for students and their families last night.  School begins on Monday morning.  I am ready.
   But now I have today. I went to school for a while this morning, but my time spent there was not all that fruitful and I found myself focusing on extraneous things.  I am ready.  I met many of my students last night and some claim they like vacation too much and don't want to come back to school which makes me all the more challenged to provide a great year for them.  I am ready.  My health is good, my attitude is positive, my excitement is high, my idealism is overflowing.  I am ready.  The bulletin boards are set, the chairs are positioned, the room looks great, the lesson plans are set (well, for the first few days at least -- I never liked writing detailed lesson plans anyway).  I am ready.  And now I sit in the calm before the onslaught of a new school year.
   Calm is good.  One lesson I learned through my cancer experience is that I cannot always be doing.  There must be times of waiting.  After the pain and discomfort and nausea had subsided, cancer offered long periods of forced relaxation.  That time allowed me to get stronger.  I did not always appreciate those times, but waiting was what I needed to do.  Now I am almost there.  I just have a couple more days to wait.  Strength can be gained in the waiting.  Find those moments of calm and learn to appreciate them.  "But those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength.  They shall mount up on wings like eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31).

The Verdict Is In

   When this journey with cancer began back in October, I was unaware of the emotional ups and the downs that would accompany this adventure.  I didn't understand the overwhelming sense of exhaustion that came with the challenge until I lived through it.  I didn't appreciate the chemo-brain confusion until I experienced it for myself.  I had no way of predicting the severity of the nausea and the discomfort brought on by the chemotherapy.  But then when the good news rolls around, I cannot adequately convey to you the excitement of it all that I am feeling, the relief of returning to health, and the opportunity to look ahead without considering cancer as the first factor in my decision making.
   At the meeting with my bone marrow transplant team today, I was given a lot of good news:

• I have been given permission to start the school year at full-time beginning on Monday, August 28 (this was the best news of all for me).
• I no longer have to wear a mask and gloves (and therefore I will have to come up with new ways to scare children).
• I do not have to meet with the transplant team again for another four to six months (we had been meeting every other week). Instead I have been handed back to my regular oncologist ("my regular oncologist"-- who would have thought I would ever use such a term in my lifetime!?).
• I do not have any dietary restrictions (other than my own taste buds and their refusal to appreciate different foods).

   There are still a few issues to consider and that we will have to monitor:

• The cat scan shows a spot under my arm that is suspicious, but that spot has been present during each of the three scans I have undergone and evidently it is not changing.  "We will just have to watch it" is the official protocol for dealing with it.
• My hemoglobin is still lower than it should be, but trending in the right direction.  This explains the shortness of breath I experience when exerting myself.  
• I will get tired...really tired...but that is because I have no muscle tone and my hemoglobin is still low (it might also have something to do with the fact that school is starting).  Only time will bring each of these back to acceptable levels.
• The taste buds are still out of whack.  Dairy products leave my mouth feeling like it is coated in some kind of lacquer.  Sweets taste nothing like I remember them tasting but more like the sealant used on cheap stationery.   

   Through this journey, I have learned and I have been blessed.  I have suffered and I have persevered.  I have been supported by a family that loves me and has been patient with me.  I have seen what God's presence in my life can do for my attitude and my outlook.  I have tried to not let my joy diminish because of cancer or chemotherapy.  I have been encouraged by people whose health crises are far worse than mine.  I have been frustrated with complainers who have nothing to complain about.  I have been angry about seeing people die from this pit-of-hell disease.  But for now, rather than getting too philosophical about all I have learned and seen and experienced, I think today is a day to just be thankful and to smile.  Good news has a way of making one feel good.  I feel good.  Thank you, God.

Jim's Text

   My friend Jimmy caught me off guard yesterday.  He gave me a dose of my own medicine just when I needed it. About 3:00 pm I received a group text from him sent to each of the four other guys in our small group.  It simply read:
             "Wondering how content 
                 you are today, men.  

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18:  
Rejoice always, pray continually, 

give thanks in all circumstances; 

for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."  

   Yesterday at 3:00 pm, I was not content.  I was feeling pressures that were both real and perceived and I was having a silent and private pity party that Jimmy quite rudely interrupted.  I was feeling justified in my frustrations and, like a pig in the mud, I wanted to stay there rather than taking the time to declutter the muddiness of my life. What had me frustrated? Oh, there was nothing earthshaking; it was just a bunch of little bothers:

• I was having trouble with my computer.
• My computer was having trouble with me.
• My next appointment with my bone marrow transplant team is Monday and I have questions I want answered now, like "Can I start school?" "When will my fingernails stop breaking?" "When can I get my port out?" and "Why does dairy still taste like some form of toxic sludge?" 
• At school my curriculum responsibilities are different this year and I had been attempting to negotiate the first few weeks of lesson planning in Algebra and 7th Grade Math (two new courses for me) when I did not have all of the resources I was supposed to have or a clear sense of scope and sequence for the classes.
• I will be teaching all new science material again this year.
• I lost my 8th Grade Bible class.  This was my favorite one to teach last year.
• I received a phone call regarding my pet scan and I did not receive a glowing "All Clear" report. Instead it was a cautious "Mostly Clear" report.  There is something in the right armpit that is suspicious.  The doctor told me not to be concerned until we could run more tests (yeah, right).  Follow-up to this unexpected news starts on Monday. 
• I know I am going to miss a friend who has recently moved for another job.
• When I arrived at home, the kitchen was a mess, the dishwasher needed to be emptied, the trash had to get out, the lawn needed mowing, and the kids were just being lazy about even seeing the work that needed to be done (actually, they were just being kids but I didn't have time or patience for that). 

   I placed them altogether in an old pot, kept them over a low heat, let them stew in their own juices, and the result was worry and frustration.  I was feeling anxious instead of culling and disposing of the worries I had so that I could protect my sense of contentment.  Why did I slip into that trap again of collecting the little problems facing me and not laying them down so that I could have a sense of mental calm?  I don't know.  The challenge continues for me to fight for that sense of contentment in my spirit.  I am glad now that Jimmy texted us all at 3:00 yesterday.  The other guys might have been content at that moment, but I was not.  His intrusion into my day was necessary.  Once again, timing is everything (thanks, Jim).

Finding the Answer

   "So how are you doing?  How is your health?"  This is a question that is bound to come at me frequently as school is starting up again soon.
   "Good and improving every day."  I think this will have to be my company line soon because I want to move on with my life.  This question is not unlike the one asked to a traveler who has just spent ten months living in a foreign country and experiencing all of the adventure associated with that setting.  Or like someone who has just been on a long backpacking trip with all of its frustrations and triumphs.  Or like someone who has just been through insufferable grief of some kind.  It is so difficult to adequately convey how impactful these experiences really are.
   "So, how are you doing?  How was it all?"  Honestly, there is no way to adequately answer such a question because the person asking has such a limited frame of reference.  While I might appreciate a person's willingness to inquire, there is no way for one to wade into the life-changing experience I have undergone.  This cancer thing has been a key player in every decision I have made since October.  There is no way to explain all that I have been through and how I have changed.  "Good and improving every day."  This just may have to suffice for a while.
   We all just have to keep moving.  While I understand that for a while I will be the guy who had cancer, I hope this is not my identifying mark of distinction for too long.  I don't want to be defined in that way.  I want to have other characteristics attached to who I am and what I do and who I am becoming.  Cancer will definitely have a place in my private and personal list of "Most Influential Lifetime Experiences," but it is not the first item on that list, nor is it the most important.
   So, how am I doing?  I am doing well.  My stamina is slowly returning.  I wish this happened a little more quickly.  I walked about five miles yesterday with my family along the beach at Ludington State Park and I was tired -- really tired -- at the end of the day.  I was stiff and sore when I woke up this morning, but have since loosened up.  In a few days I am expecting to receive the official go-ahead from my transplant team to start school on August 28.  I cannot imagine them telling me I am not ready.  I feel ready.  I am still a light-weight; fifteen more pounds would get me back to normal. The appetite for food is returning but some things still have some weird associated tastes that remind me all is not quite normal yet -- ice cream, sweets, cheese, coffee, and beer may or may not ever give my taste buds the same pleasure they did a year ago.
   But how am I doing?   Honestly, I am good...and improving every day.  Thanks for asking.

The Fine Art of Not Knowing

   Mike McCarthy, press secretary for President Bill Clinton, once said his job was best described as "the fine art of telling the truth slowly."  The truth of my life (at least for the next month) is unfurling ever so slowly and I wish I understood more of the story now.  Two weeks from tomorrow is the first day of school.  One week from tomorrow I will discover if my transplant team allows me to be present at school for that first day...or not.  I have a conundrum here.  I have to get ready for the new year and everything it entails but I don't know if I or some random "guest teacher" will actually be in the classroom with my kids.  This is frustrating.  There are other factors that contribute to this confusion:

• I have to prepare a classroom with bulletin boards and seating arrangements as if I will be the teacher in charge, even though it might be someone else.
• If I am able to go back for that first day, will I have the stamina needed to go each day, every day, and all day?
• I have to start thinking about the curriculum, much of which is new to me and most of which I have neither seen nor laid hands on just yet.  
• I have to become an expert at the aforementioned curriculum soon because after the first day of school, students will get into the habit of returning for 179 more days in rapid succession and I need to have something for them to learn.
• I have to be ready to sound authoritative in my writing about the curriculum because I may need to write the lesson plans out for some stand-in adult authority figure.
• Since my short-term disability plan is exhausted, I have to complete a lengthy application regarding long-term disability benefits, even though Lord willing I will never need to utilize that service.  But just in case...
• Although not school related, I have a pet scan tomorrow that the insurance company initially refused to back financially.  After a bunch of back-and-forth phone calls, the insurance guys have relented and are now willing to help us out.  Just another curve ball in the week.
• The Detroit Tigers continue to lose and I don't know why.  It might have something to do with the fact that they are not playing well this year.  Duh.



My friend John Grisham

• I have to suspend the reading of John Grisham novels for a while (my summer reading accomplishments include The Whistler, The Rainmaker, A Painted House, Bleachers, The Confession, and Ford County).  This leisure activity must give way to reading more professional sorts of material, lesson planning, paper grading, and the other enduring responsibilities that every teacher has.  Now if I was an aspiring law student living in the Memphis, Tennessee area and I was confronted with a case of well-shrouded but thoroughly entrenched corruption in some powerful law firm and/or other high-ranking institution during a siege of weather when temperatures were in excess of 100 degrees (with a 90% humidity factor, of course) and my air conditioner was broken, maybe Grisham's books would be considered professional development.  For now, I have to set aside my friendship with John and attend to these other matters.

    Not knowing is frustrating.  I wish I had a much firmer grasp on what my life will look like on August 28 and beyond, but for now I will have to let the story unfold slowly.  That's how a storyteller like John Grisham would want me to do it anyway.  But to be honest, I am going to miss those young lawyers from Tennessee and their acquaintances,  the people from impoverished but lovable cigarette-smoking, cheap-beer-drinking, front-porch-sitting families who are long on loyalty but short on intelligence or the high-school homecoming kings and queens whose lives have been destroyed by tragedy of some kind or another.  But I guess I can meet some more of them during Christmas vacation.

The Old Horse

   My cart was getting in front of my horse today.  I tried to keep it from rolling too quickly, but there were moments when it was moving nearly out of control.  Please understand that the proverbial horse I am working with is really a slowly plodding old nag and I cannot make it travel any faster.  The horse takes its time, deals with its meds, makes its appointments, and health wise improves ever so slowly.  It is very content to move along at its own methodical pace with no concern for the fact that the new school year is just around the corner.  Meanwhile my cart is getting more full and therefore rolling more quickly.  In the cart are all the things I have to do before school starts.  Also in the cart are the feelings of self-doubt and lack of confidence that always seems to plague me at this time of year.  New courses I have to teach are in the cart.  New computer programs that I need to learn are in there as well.  Then of course that ugly little hint of nagging fear that I won't physically be ready for it all when it starts -- that's in there too.  I hate that fear.
   1 Peter 5:7 implores me: "Cast all of your anxiety on Him because he cares for you." Why is this simple adage such an "easy-say-hard-do" challenge for me?  I have believed in Jesus a long time and I still have issues with this command.  I don't trust the way I should.  I want to keep things under control.  I want to appear capable and polished in what I say and do.  I want to be the expert in something -- in everything --  instead of always feeling like the new guy.  I want, I want, I want.
   This sounds exactly like so many characters we read about in the Bible.  King David had his issues with this.  Certainly Peter, Samson, and Jezebel were "I Want" all-stars.  It was this attitude that got Adam and Eve -- and therefore the rest of mankind -- in trouble.  But think about how many other people living today battle the same temptations of wanting to be in control and wanting to appear competent as a way of fueling personal egos.  So many have the desire for self-sufficiency and self-determination -- I am not alone in this.
   I have to slow down the cart.  To do this I must remove the heavy items and just leave them by the side of the road.  Later I can pick up the things that I really need.   I cannot let this cart run over my horse.  After all, that horse is me and I need to learn to lighten my own load.  I have to get that sense of fear out of the cart and just leave it in a ditch somewhere.  That is my biggest problem. I hate that cart when I allow it to bump my butt and it threatens to run me over.  My cart will be lighter tomorrow.  One day at a time, sweet Jesus...

The Value of Sport

   I just got home from football practice.  No...seriously, I just got home from football practice.  What is a 57-year-old guy recovering from cancer who is 25 pounds underweight doing at a football practice?  Don't be alarmed.  I didn't wear the pads or the helmet and didn't even participate in the non-contact portions of the practice.  My friend Tim, the head football coach at a local high school, asked me to come talk to his team during an extended break in the two-a-day practice schedule and share my story of faith and the role it played through my cancer experience.  I never say "No" to such an opportunity because ultimately my story is not my story but God's story through me.
   Tim is a good coach.  He gets it.  Football is important to him, but its importance has very little to do with wins and losses.  The sport is an allegory for life, a tool that is used specifically for building boys into men.  I am not referring to the stereotypical grunting/scratching/burping kind of men, but Tim is very intentional about training these kids to become men of faith, men of courage, and men of character.  Unity, togetherness, and leadership all are important for Friday night's contest, but they become more important for the rest of life.
   As I think back on my life, I learned a lot in school, but I learned a lot more about myself and my potential as a leader from my coaches and sports.  These lessons are far more defining of who I am today than lessons about the origin of World War One or diagramming a sentence with a dangling participle.  I am not bemoaning a classroom education, but instead I want to assert that sport, when led well by a coach with the proper perspective, can be life-altering for a young man.  I learned lessons in perseverance and teamwork through sport.  I learned the ideals of trusting my guys and admitting when I am wrong through sport.  I learned how to handle disappointment and to deflect the tendency to blame others through sport.  I didn't have to memorize wise sayings like, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going;" I lived it through sport.
   When I took my now-teenaged son Tem on his first backpacking trip soon after he arrived home from Ethiopia seven years ago, I reminded him to never ever quit.  Over time this slogan has become our phrase.  We use it together all the time.  I love that.  In the last few months, those words have come back to me as well, and I hear them in Tem's little seven-year-old voice.  Keep going!  Don't quit!  You've got this!  Push through!
   This is the value of sport.  Have a great year, Northpointe Christian High School!  You've got this.  Remember the lessons you gather along the way.  They will make you strong regardless of your wins and losses.  "Never ever quit!"

Back in G-Rap -- Time For A Health Update

   We are at our Grand Rapids home again.  We returned from our jaunt to the U.P. last evening, and then we made one more road trip this morning.  Connie and I drove to Jackson to bring Jesse halfway home while Kate and Jimmy drove up northwest Ohio to meet us at the local Bob Evans restaurant which has become "The Halfway Hand-off Spot."  It was a great time visiting with them over breakfast and hearing more about their eleven-day expedition to the North Atlantic.  While we loved hearing their stories about camping in Iceland, I honestly think Kate was more interested in hearing about all of what her boy did at camp.  While Jimmy liked the stories too, he spent much of the post-meal time playing with his son as the two of them entertained each other.   I love how they partner as parents and do different things well.  But already we miss having Jesse around with us...he brings life and excitement everywhere he goes.  I love being a grandpa.  And Connie is definitely the  world's best grandmother (best looking one too).
   My health continues to improve slowly.  People who see me somewhat infrequently will often remark how I am looking better all the time (it reminds me of how ugly I must have been).  I acknowledge that I am improving, but I still know that I have a ways to go.  We visited Laughing Whitefish Falls last week and we hiked down and then came back up about 100 stairs.  The down part was no problem, but coming up again reminded me of how I need to get that endurance and stamina back.  I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath. But then again, the trip back up would have been much harder two weeks or a month ago.  I will be having another echocardiogram this week to see if my heart might be part of the reason climbing is still so hard for me and/or if it is all related to my consistently low blood pressure (And yes, by the way..."Laughing Whitefish" is the actual name of the place. The waterfalls is so named because it is a part of Laughing Whitefish River.  So why is it named "Laughing Whitefish" in the first place? I don't know.  Just go with it or do your own Google search.  I believe quirky names make life more enjoyable.  Just ask those folks who live in Walla Walla, WA, No Name, TN, or Hell, MI.)
   I also need to gain weight.  Twenty pounds are still needed.   I know...nobody seems to pity me when I say I have this issue, but this should allow me to enjoy increased energy too.  But different foods still have some bad tastes to them.  Dairy products and sweets are stressors on my tastebuds, so as you can imagine, ice cream is particularly nasty.  Sad, but true.
   I am still experiencing muscle stiffness and soreness whenever I do anything the least bit strenuous.  This makes trying to begin an exercise regimen frustrating.  I have no muscle tone whatsoever in my atrophied body; frankly, this was never one of my strong suits even prior to cancer.  Now I have to start over from scratch.  I never had a future in body building competitions, but I do need to get started with the basics soon.  Right now a strong wind could land me in the next county.
   But I was reminded again this week in so many ways of how blessed I am.  So many of the people I met at camp have hard things they are going through too.  While my issue is cancer, others have their own heartaches.  I renewed my vow to be more of a praying man for these people.  I need to remember that I am not alone in my suffering; in fact, many people are wading through difficult things in their lives.  "In this world you will have trouble," Jesus said, "But take heart, for I have overcome the world"  (John 16:33).  I am home, but I need to keep praying for other people and work to keep my eyes off myself.
 
 
 

Transitions

   Today is the final full day of our stay at Upper Peninsula Bible Camp's Family Camp and in some ways the last full day of our summer.  Ironically it is about 55 degrees with rain and a strong wind and so does not feel very summer-like.  But in many ways, this is a transition day:

• This will be the last day we spend together as a relatively weird family unit of eight.  The eight of us represent four generations.  My mother and both of Connie's parents came to camp, as did two of our children and our grandson Jesse.  I think this at least ties an unofficial camp record for the "Most Generations Represented by One Family" category.
• When we return home, I will both have to and want to start being in, at, and about school.  I hope to begin the preparations for the new year and to clean up the mess I left behind when I vacated my position early to enter the hospital in mid-May. There are pieces I need to pick up and put back in place again.  This is all good.  I have learned to appreciate in new ways the busy-ness of what others would consider a "normal" life.  
• We will be at home for the rest of the summer.  Our final road trip adventure will be the quick seven-hour drive from here back to Grand Rapids tomorrow.  Yet as I continue to heal I understand that every day is an adventure and that life is never something that we have conquered or completed.  This is another renewed perspective I have gained through this cancer experience.  

   Transitions are all a part of life.  While here at camp, I have been again reminded of transitions. As Christians we all have made transitions from the wrong way of living to following Jesus.  These stories of transition are worth celebrating (thanks for your story, Kenny)!  We have also been made aware of people who seemed to have been on the right track with Jesus only to renounce him and his word as being authoritative in their lives.  This is frustrating and sad to me; I am sure that Jesus knew all along but it must still sadden him as well.  We are also confronted with stories of transitions from earthly life to earthly death.  Dave Munson, a father of two young children, just died this week at the age of 51.  These transitions make no sense at the time they occur.  The only thing that makes sense about such deaths is that there is another transition for the believer from earthly death to eternal life with Jesus.  This is a great comfort and blessing for both the one called home and for those left behind, but family and friends still must wade through the mire of grief and questioning that happens at one's death.

   My next few weeks include a few personal transitions.  I have to get home from the U.P.  I will be getting back to school.  I will continue my transition toward resuming a life that does not revolve around meds and catheters and chemo and hospitals and counting days since my transplant (we are at Day +71, by the way).  I am eager to transition back to being an energetic dad and husband and friend.  

   This cold and blustery day may be the final one for a while here at camp, but all of life is changing -- and this fact I will claim as a good thing.