Revamped Bucket List

I’ve dreamed of going to Ireland, to listen to the brogue, to savor the scones, to see the green rolling landscape, bare and brave; maybe write a limerick or two. The Great Wall of China and the skeleton mountains have also intrigued me, along with the thought of delicious, authentic Szechuan. Still haven’t been to D.C. at cherry blossom time. Banff in Canada sparkles with distant blue beauty. Chances are good I won’t travel to any of these destinations.

Bucket lists may abound in our busy, long lives, but when the specter of finality arises, these are refined.

Now, clearly, the most important distance is half-an-hour, into Vancouver to see Baby Tully and bask in his grins. To drive to Seattle to visit Anna and Ryan as they labor through medical school. To rise early for a breakfast date and encouragement over coffee. To brave the rainy night and head down the hill for Wednesday night Grow Group, share and prayer with my 12 best ladies. The ultimate road trip is to the Northwest Beach, to walk the sand barefoot, arm-in-arm with my dear ones.

“What to do with the time left?”

This has been my question lately. Not because I feel that the days are short, but perhaps the years are. We are all here only for a season, and this inspires me to ask, “What does the Wisest One in the Universe say about how to prioritize my time?” It’s worth some contemplation. You think, too….

It’s a daunting question. Perhaps there is some big unfinished work you still have, but as I ponder and ask those I cherish, the unanimous answer has been to spend time with those we love. Invest in care and conversation, creating good memories. Clear the air of any shadows, to the best of one’s ability. These are the small BIG things. These are the treasured times.

Another close friend said that she’d think about the content of her conversations. More about Jesus and His message, sharing the importance of the good news with those who were close to her. Can I just do that right now? Do you have ears to hear what it really means to follow Christ and be “Heaven-ready?”

Jesus left no room for half-hearted disciples.

Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?” Matthew 16:24-26

So, He wants all of you, heart, soul, body. In return, you gain forgiveness, Heaven, comfort, guidance, strength, joy, and so much more. We all need to have the sin that separates us from God removed. Jesus’ death on the cross was the amazing payment for all the wrongs of humanity, including yours and mine. Embracing Him and His forgiveness and grace sets you on a lifelong path of following the greatest One who ever walked the earth. Take time to study and contemplate this possibility for yourself. There is so much more to life than what we can touch or see.

It’s a journey that I’ve been on for most of my years, and God is still working to shape my character, my attitude, my beliefs, my heart.

As I continue to mull over the purpose of life, one more bit of guidance comes from scripture, “He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:8

Until I am done, this is the simple, hard call. My humility is lacking, as is my mercy, but as I walk with God, He continues to teach me. What a privilege! He’s not done remodeling my sketchy character. May I find purpose in discovering concrete ways to promote justice in this world, to love with deep compassion and without falseness, to focus not on myself, but on others. To honor God, finding forgiveness when I fail.

Loving God and loving people. These are the things that matter most.

Or, as the Irish in me might say: (Be prepared for corny.)

“There once was a gal who loved travlin’,

But then found her health unravelin’,

She learned what was better,

Sending all folks that met her,

To the road less traveled, she’s gravelin’.”

 

God of the Valley

When I first heard my cancer diagnosis, it was almost a novelty. I’m one who embraces new adventures, naturally an optimist. The distraction of sudden life change, the outpouring of care, the “celebrity” of being terminal. It was even a little exciting, in a strange kind of way.

The problem with cancer is it’s a long road sometimes. A long journey through an ever-deepening dark valley. Phone calls and “get well” notes become less frequent, as the lives of those around us must continue. The cure options dwindle. The fatigue and pain increase. Strength and ability-to-do diminish.

It grows quiet, the long days, some spent lying on the sofa building up enough energy to switch out the laundry or make dinner. And on the reverse side, even joyful visits from friends are physically taxing, while being a great blessing at the same time.

The valley narrows. My path is strewn with jagged rocks, difficult to see because the light is dimmer down here. A dramatic wind whistles, chilling the heart. There are scrapes on the knees from stumbling and my hands grow weaker as I feel my way along the trail.

Then I look around and begin to notice things.

I have a warm wrap to keep out the icy breeze, knitted by a loving friend. When I grow thirsty, there is a trickling stream of cold water flowing right beside me. If my toes are hurting, I can soak them, sit, and rest on a smooth boulder. If it seems too dark to see ahead, I look not beyond, but down at my feet, and I can see a light showing me the next step on my path.

On my left and my right I can just hear the encouraging whispers of some friends who have come to walk with me. They often do, whether with a note, a call, a visit, continued prayers, and the reality that if I need them, I can reach out. I am not alone in this valley.

This valley of the shadow of death. It’s not death, just the shadow. And here, Jesus, my Good Shepherd, promises to be with me, always. He’ll go to the end of my world with me. He places little and big miracles in my life to remind me of the goodness of God. He shapes gracious people to patiently demonstrate His love, reflected in them. His word comforts me.

Just this week I came across a favorite verse in Isaiah 46, where God encourages His people.

“Listen to me, you descendants of Jacob,
    all the remnant of the people of Israel,
you whom I have upheld since your birth,
    and have carried since you were born.
⁴ Even to your old age and gray hairs
    I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you;
    I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

I am reminded that He has always been there, sunny meadows, splashing seashores, hot deserts, mountain tops, from my very beginning. I have been blessed with 55 years of life. Now that my hair is gray (chemo hair), He continues to be my sustainer and personal guide on this narrow road. It is not a detour, but a pathway we all must travel, whether it be short or long.

I cannot see the end of the valley, but I have read the guidebook, studying up on what’s ahead. I have researched the testaments of others who have walked this same narrow road. Though the way may grow darker and deeper, there is a great celebration at the end. My Guide knew that some of us would struggle along the way. Early on He told His close friends,

 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.” (John 14:1-4)

He knew I would have “heart trouble,” some fear and doubting. He encourages me that I can trust Him….if it weren’t true, He would not have said it. Do I trust my Shepherd? I think it’s a good idea to stick with the one who has led so many down this path, and on to great things beyond. 

I am thankful for my fellow travelers, even if they can only hold my hand for part of the way, keeping me from stumbling. I am grateful for a God who is with me, especially in the difficult parts of the long journey. As struggles increase, I draw closer. Not many fancy prayers, but genuine bleating that a Good Shepherd answers.

He is faithful.

Grumpy Cat Revelation

Chronic illness can wear on me, putting me at risk for a more serious malady….let’s call it “grumpy cat” syndrome. My “fur” stands up ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, but ready to rear to typhoon heights if I’m not petted just so. My purrs fade and if someone steps too closely to “my” territorial edges, there may even be a faint hiss. Rage is not a welcome emotion, but left to myself I find that even “nice” me is capable of unclad claws and (perhaps silent) feline ferocity.

The gist of it is that when things don’t go “my way,” I get the joy of cleaning out my internal cat box. As pretty as the surface may be, sprayed with anti-stink spray from Petsmart, carefully combed, I find I have some very smelly character issues to deal with.

Suffering peels back layers of social tidiness and pompous spirituality,  revealing the raw material of our depths. We must face the fleshly struggles that were once covered by predictability and easier times. This is an opportunity to be refined so that healed interior character is reflected on the exterior.

I find new wrestling matches with sinful attitudes take place as I find my way. Good digestion naturally produces good nature, and likewise, poor digestion more readily reveals flawed nature. It is much easier to be kind, patient, gentle, and joyful when most of life is going my way. But when the inevitable struggles come, I suddenly have the opportunity for God to refine and redeem the broken parts of me. Encountering seemingly impossible situations can lead me to become angry and frustrated, spilling over to those proverbial bad attitudes.

As I am designed in the manner of my Creator, I bear some resemblance to Him. We all do, even if we do not recognize Him. Some people are “naturally” good and appear to have many positive qualities, some of us struggle more. But, if we are honest with ourselves, we “all fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23b)

This is yet another spectacular opportunity in the land of suffering! There is mercy in all of this revelation. It shows me the depths of my character that require transformation and reminds me that I need a Great Physician to heal ALL of my diseases, especially those of the soul. Even “grumpy cat” syndrome.

 ^“Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. ⁹ Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:8, 9

 

Times Up!

In the past month, two people I know of have passed away due to the same disease I deal with. Two normal men, gone. It is a sobering thought and makes me take a few deep breaths. They made different medical decisions than I have, but I am still reminded that no matter what amazing science I experience, unless the God of miracles intervenes on the physical level, my time will be done soon.

Before this disease, my horizons were long and laden with happy visions of the future. If I didn’t get something done, that was okay. There was always tomorrow, or next year, or retirement season, or….  But now I am reminded that life’s length is uncertain for all of us, even when we think we might know better.

Life has some extra difficulties right now. In recent years I would homilize, “This too shall pass.” But now, with time short, I hear the rush of the sand through the hour glass and its whisper of, “Time’s up.” Instead of waiting for things in life to get better, I realize this may be where I am when I close up the shop doors. No more long horizons. No more “someday we’ll go to New Mexico and drive to Alaska.” No more reality of little Boneski, Smith, Itzhakov, and Lucas babies bouncing around my worn table and screeching through the shaggy fields around my big grandma house. The child-sized porch chairs sit empty on my landing, and even their rocking murmurs, “Time’s up.”

Most of the time I can ride easily on the sinking sand, but lately there are days where I battle not cancer, but grief. I am entering old age early, as I reflect and process, as I prepare for a journey I didn’t think I would take for 40 more years, as I deal with a once-super-healthy body that has increasing aches, quirky sprouts of gray hair, and arthritic hands. Every new pain is suspect. Even too many burps make me wonder if I’m declining. It’s an eye opener. But of course, I am. Most folks take decades to go from 60 to 0. I have nearly done it in a year-and-a-half.

So……  If you know me, you know I talk wisdom to myself when I am discouraged. I refuse to stay stuck in worry and weeping. God made us human beings with great capacity to overcome. I am so grateful for that. He also has given us the opportunity to make connections and experience the loving support of a host of precious people, like our own ministering angels. Furthermore, He blesses us with rich encouragement in His word. Finally, I am NOT out of sand, and am cherishing every day that remains.

Perspective adjusts, when we face serious trouble, no matter the age. I’m reading a fascinating book called Being Mortal. While reading this morning, I came across a paragraph that summed it up so well, “As our time winds down, we all seek comfort in simple pleasures–companionship, everyday routines, the taste of good food, the warmth of sunlight on our faces. We become less interested in the rewards of achieving and accumulating, and more interested in the rewards of simply being. Yet while we may feel less ambitious, we also become concerned for our legacy. And we have a deep need to identify purposes outside ourselves that make living feel meaningful and worthwhile.”

For me, the priorities have been relationships with my people and with God. This vision focuses to crystal clear. As I find myself in this valley, I find that I do not walk alone. The blessing of relationships nurtured, returns to me ten-fold. The comfort of God is evident daily.

The word of the Lord in Isaiah 41:10 fills me with peace. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” He has given me the comfort of being carried, when I cannot carry myself.

 

Three O’clock in the Morning

It’s becoming a pattern now, waking up at 3 in the morning. Tossing around and tangling the covers. Working towards a comfy position. I have a busy mind that must “labor to enter in to rest.”

I usually analyze things like this — It must be the stress of wedding planning, anticipating future medical choices, deciding how to live the years I am given. There is so much to consider. And then I talk to myself, “This is not the time to think about these things. Go to sleep!” (That’s as effective as telling someone to ‘calm down,’ or ‘relax!”)

I’ve discovered that the best strategy is to make the most of the night hours, and as I doze, I pray. I pray for my family, for my friends, for the world. It’s a windfall of unexpected time. It’s sloppy prayer, as I edge towards sleep, but I know God hears.

Sometimes I think about important things. Have I loved my family well enough? Am I being a good friend? How will I make it through tomorrow? What will the doctors say at the next appointment? More than once in my life, the quietness of the dark has allowed me to hear God’s inspiring answers. All distractions are still, and I can listen, meditate, and hear.

As I ponder the big pilgrimage, I am reminded that a peaceful heart comes from the Lord. Psalm 4:8 tells me, “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, LORD, make me dwell in safety.” I don’t need to succumb to fear. God’s awake and on the job. I can rest in his arms. I use healthy visualization to help me slumber. Sometimes, I picture myself being carried by Jesus like a child, through this darkening valley. I am not alone. I can rest.

What I think on is critical. If I start digging deep, scary holes in my path, I’m going to stumble. Instead, Psalm 4:4 reminds me, “Tremble, and do not sin; Meditate in your heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah.” Evidently, it matters. Am I sinning by remaining focused on my fears, rather than on faith? While it’s okay to acknowledge fears, what am I “meditating” on? God calls us to think on the true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy. (Phil. 4:8) It’s seems even a command to have a renewed mind and to embrace mental light. This direction transforms me and brings me tranquility.

Earlier in that stretch of scripture, the Lord reminds us to pray, and to do so with thanksgiving. I’m usually so busy asking for this and that for my kids, for myself, for my life, that I am like the blessed leper that is healed and only later remembers to come and give thanks to Jesus. Gratitude expressed in prayer does great work in our hearts.

When my mind feels led to fear at night, or anytime, I deliberately do the worthwhile and somewhat corny “gratefulness exercise.” What am I thankful for? Answer, and keep answering. It can feel a little annoying at first, but anxiety is reduced. Peace begins to take over once again. Even social work professor Brene Brown teaches this biblical truth. She shares: “Get Deliberate: When I’m flooded with fear and scarcity, I try to call forward joy and sufficiency by acknowledging the fear, then transforming it into gratitude. I say this out loud: “I’m feeling vulnerable. That’s okay. I’m so grateful for ____________.” Doing this has absolutely increased my capacity for joy.”

Okay, and sometimes, if I REALLY can’t sleep, I’ll get up and gently wear myself out with a warm shower, a cup of tea, an undramatic book. As my eyelids grow droopy, I tuck myself back in to bed. Snuggling deep, embracing my extra pillow or warming up by my toasty husband, I relish the fact that I don’t have to get up yet. I can sleep, because the all-powerful, all-wise, all-loving Creator God is ever awake. “He will not let your foot slip–He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber not sleep.” (Psalm 121:3)

I hear the lullaby of Jesus. He sings it so softly, inviting us all, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Hum along in the stillness of the night, answer Him with yes, and find peaceful rest.

Patchwork Legacy

I sat in a rather lovely exam room at Compass Clinic, meeting with their Palliative Care provider, Michael. He engaged me in good conversation, positive, proactive, honest. Being the open book that I am, he heard about my pilgrimage. When I told him I was sewing infant quilts for my unborn grandbabies, he encouraged me and said, “We call that Legacy work.” It feels like it. Leaving something behind to be part of the future joys, just in case I’m not there when my kids are celebrated at their baby showers. I want all my children and grandchildren to know that I thought of them.

On the other hand, as I sort through memorabilia in the tower attic, I find that blankets turn to dusty, faded memories. They don’t seem enough in this season of soul-searching, of weighing how to spend the remaining time. And I am evaluating what my legacy will be.

Psalm 103 tells us:

¹⁴ for he knows how we are formed,
    he remembers that we are dust.
¹⁵ The life of mortals is like grass,
    they flourish like a flower of the field;
¹⁶ the wind blows over it and it is gone,
    and its place remembers it no more.

Here’s what I get from that. We are here temporarily, briefly, unremembered in even a few generations. That feels strange, but it’s all of our condition, unless we appear in the history books. Even then we would only be an interpretation of someone else. At the same time, we all want to “make our mark” and have an impact on this planet and our people. We want to matter, to not just fade away. Something in us longs to be eternal.

The Psalm tells me that:

¹⁷ But from everlasting to everlasting
    the Lord’s love is with those who fear him,
    and his righteousness with their children’s children—
¹⁸ with those who keep his covenant
    and remember to obey his precepts.

God’s everlasting love is with us if we honor and receive Him. We leave this Legacy to our families, and to our friends…the perfect love of God. Righteous living patterns bless even our grandkids. This is my Legacy, my investment in people. Especially my children.

When cancer first hit, that was where I went. I have, albeit imperfectly, invested so much of my energy and life in bringing up the bestest of kids. By God’s grace, they are learning to walk the path of faith as adults,  not just as my little padawans. It is a worthy journey, fraught with temptation and distraction. So part of my legacy is the prayer I store up for them even now, confident that a God who is beyond all time will answer, even if I am gone.

My greatest hope is that they will be a light to this new generation of amazing human beings. Philippians 2 communicates my desire for them perfectly, “Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, ‘children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.’ Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.”  I leave behind people that are glowing starlight, illuminating the way for others.

There are many people I’ve known and been privileged to interact with, at work, school, church. These relationships and any impact I’ve had on them is also part of my legacy. God calls us to love one another, and when we do, we reap a joyful reward of kinship and care.

Glorifying God is my greatest goal as a legacy. I am not yet perfected, and I fail, but God’s grace is poured into my life each day. What a beautiful thing, to get to bear the image of God and speak His truth. To love and care for all those in my circle. That is an eternal legacy.

Legacy, according to Merrian-Webster:

1 : a gift by will especially of money or other personal property : bequest She left us a legacy of a million dollars. 2 : something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.

Well, if my folks are waiting for a million bucks, they had better have more then Netflix reruns to occupy them while they wait. But a gift, much more valuable, is truth, including a treasure map to Heaven, Godly wisdom, kindness and love, demonstrating keeping the covenant of obeying God and His word, letting Him lead my life, and accepting the promise of salvation from Jesus.

We all ask ourselves, “What mark did I make on this world? How will my friends and family remember me?” This feeling reminds me that we are made to be everlasting, not temporary beings. One day, for all that believe, we will worship forever in Heaven with God and His people. Our legacy is not only here, but the perfect fulfillment of His purpose for us, glorifying Him also in Heaven.

¹⁹ The Lord has established his throne in heaven,
    and his kingdom rules over all.

²⁰ Praise the Lord, you his angels,
    you mighty ones who do his bidding,
    who obey his word.
²¹ Praise the Lord, all his heavenly hosts,
    you his servants who do his will.
²² Praise the Lord, all his works
    everywhere in his dominion.

 

 

So, while I will enjoy creating gifts for my family, even as I sew and stitch, I leave a far better legacy. A quilt of sorts, pieced together with a variety of hopes, a covering that will not fade. My greatest Legacy is sharing these words, this path with them and each of you. Pray always. Love God. Love people. Obey Him. Be faithful. Choose wisely. Seek forgiveness. Rest deeply. It is His compassionate work in us that brings Him glory.

Praise the Lord, my soul.

The Kindness of Cancer…

Chemo pump and kitty comfort. Thank you, Rick, for my kitty. Thank you Rachel for my cozy, brown nest.

 

Cancer is not kind. It takes healthy cell growth, turns it into something tumorish. It comes as a surprise. Cancer is an unpleasant turn of events. It can hurt. Sometimes, it kills you. But……there is kindness on this cancer path.

Cancer gives you time to prepare for possible death. I’ve had an interesting season of cleaning up messes so family won’t have to, should I leave early. I tumbled in to a bin of baby toys, little dresses and rompers, dusty stuffed animals. It wasn’t too long ago that I put those away for the kids. And this reminded me of how short and super life has been. I am mindful of unfinished projects and important paperwork. I have my funeral planned. (That was kinda fun, and is a work in process. I wish I could be there. There will be cake.)

Cancer gives you time to grieve with those you love. As hard as it is to see the sorrow on the faces of friends and family, it is a precious honor to sit with them and hug them, to comfort them and pray with them. They walk this valley with me. I am not alone, and either are they. We can talk about “plans and wishes.” It helps normalize this season of life, the “possibly” terminal time. It is a blessing to share this journey.

So blessed to spend time with family

Cancer gives me reason to prioritize oh so many things. Marie Kondo has no idea. “Does it spark joy?” is replaced by “Do I really want to spend my limited time on this?” That doesn’t mean I don’t do laundry and cook, but when I go to the book shelf…..I’m asking myself what’s worth reading? Which DVD do I really want to watch again? (LOTR, The Hobbit, Inn of the Sixth Happiness, oh, and an old early 50’s Sherlock Holmes series, complete with wobbly screen on occasion and in glorious black and white for Rick and I. Chariots of Fire is probably next.) Guess what? Ask yourself those questions too. We all have limited time. Here are some family toes after spending some quality time together…keeping our priorities straight.

 

Prioritize and don’t forget the little stuff. It’s the big stuff.

Cancer gives opportunity to grow in character, just like all the other tough challenges in life. Will I whine and complain about chemo, or enjoy the white cheddar popcorn, the cheerful nurses, and time to sit and rest, thankful that I can even have the medical opportunity at a prolonged, better-quality-of life? Will I pout that I may miss out on my plans for the next 30 years, or will I acknowledge that I have lived a rich, extraordinary life, with few regrets. Will I choose to believe that God is the Lord who can comfort me in my distress?

Yesterday I came across this in Psalms 86:4-7.

Gladden the soul of your servant;
    to you, Lord, I lift up my soul.
Lord, you are good and forgiving,
    most merciful to all who call on you.
Lord, hear my prayer;
    listen to my cry for help.
On the day of my distress I call to you,
    for you will answer me.

He is with me, live or die. His forgiveness has blessed me with a peaceful, purified heart. His mercy is there when I call. In my distress, He answers.

Cancer gives me the opportunity to show my dear ones how to “die well.” I am still discovering what that looks like. But I know it involves focusing on loving others and not letting panic take over. As I look at surgery, I take a matter-of-fact approach. I will use the mind God gave me and the wise ones around me to make the best decisions I can. Then, full speed ahead, until I know that it is time to lay it all down. Today isn’t that day. It is still time to fight the good fight, but with a joyful heart and lots of love. I may yet beat this thing.

Ready for more popcorn and chemo/lifesaving treatment

Cancer gives me time to encourage others in difficult situations, cancer or not. It is interesting to me that at Compass Clinic, the infusion room is open. We all sit side-by-side. I have the feeling this is not just to save money on divider material. Patients laugh together, encourage each other, listen to one another. It’s pretty sweet. It’s not terrible; actually, in many ways, it’s wonderful. The sense of community and care in that room is amazing.  What a joy!

Part of my beautiful support team

Cancer gives me a new “hobby.” I don’t want to make light of it, but cancer is not the center of my life. Jesus is. My family is. My friends are. The hobby part is the part that changes my calendar and sends me researching. It’s the part where I have to manage a failing body and take time to rest. I have unique opportunities to learn about cancer. I develop new relationships, based on our mutual “hobby.” What an encouragement it has been to chat with folks about this path and to hear their stories, too.

Cancer gives me the experience of being showered with love from those around me. I get to see the beautiful image of God shine out from friends and family. People have been incredibly kind and generous, tenderhearted, attentive, caring. They take time in their busy lives to remember me and my family, to speak an encouraging word, to send a card, to call, to give gifts, to show love. AND I still can get together with my people and sip coffee, share and pray. It is a blessing to be able to love and listen to them, even in this season.

Breakfast with Dear Alisa, Prayer warrior/mentor

Cancer gives me the opportunity to see if what I have always professed to believe holds up under pressure. Is God good, even though I have a deadly disease? Can I trust Him to carry me through? Is Heaven a lovely myth, or my ultimate destination?

Psalm 77 shows that this struggle is not unique to any of us. The writer shares:

“I cry aloud to God; I cry aloud, and he hears me.
In times of trouble I pray to the Lord;
    all night long I lift my hands in prayer,
    but I cannot find comfort.

He keeps me awake all night;
    I am so worried that I cannot speak.
I think of days gone by
    and remember years of long ago.
 I spend the night in deep thought;
    I meditate, and this is what I ask myself:
‘Will the Lord always reject us?
    Will he never again be pleased with us?
Has he stopped loving us? Does his promise no longer stand?’

I will remember your great deeds, Lord;
 I will recall the wonders you did in the past.
 I will think about all that you have done;
I will meditate on all your mighty acts.
Everything you do, O God, is holy.
No god is as great as you.
You are the God who works miracles.”

The miracle of this experience may or may not be a healed body and more years to walk
the earth, but the biggest miracle for me is to feel the encouraging prayers of God’s people, lifting me up, freeing me from fear, helping me live in joy today, recalling His faithfulness for the past 54 years.

So much silver, with a lining of suffering. It’s hard, but not horrible. I am grateful for the kindness of cancer.

Me ringing the bell after 13 chemo sessions. Celebrating!

 

Help!

“Let me know if you need help!” So often I hear this, as we all do when we are in a troubling situation or not feeling well. It is a sincere wish by those near us to find a meaningful way to be a support. Folks just aren’t always sure what “help” might look like. Here, I’ll share some of the sweetest and most practical ways friends and family and strangers have blessed my journey through chronic illness. I asked two friends who have considerable experience with this to share some of their insights as well. See what fits “you” and those in your life. There’s always a way to serve those we care about. Sometimes, it just takes a little planning, thought, and some of our resources.

An Understanding Heart

Romans 12 reminds us to,”Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Essentially, be there, empathizing, listening, celebrating, sorrowing. This is a good place to start. Most of us (including me) want to fix the problem, to figure out how to make trouble go away, to discern what caused pain so it can be avoided, by all of us. This has value. I believe it has been so downplayed in current culture that we feel awkward or afraid to share practical wisdom in the lives of those we love. At the same time, it is sooo important to let those we care about be honest about where they are. To just listen, nod, smile, frown, cry and connect with them.

Research (somewhere) tells us that listening is a great healer. This is something many of us struggle with. Melanie, a friend who has endured years of chronic illness, has this to say, “I believe caring for a chronic ill friend is very difficult for people. It means that they must face the reality that really horrible things happen in life. Most of us want to believe we can do something to avoid it, something to solve it or that we can turn it into something really positive if we just try hard enough.”

Don’t feel like by listening you have to solve the problem. Avoid getting out the advice shovel, instead give the gift of an understanding heart. Melanie shares more wisdom,”I would encourage everyone to arm themselves with a short list of good listening questions. Come into a conversation with a suffering person ready to listen – not tell.”

Awhile back, a friend had gone through the loss of a precious child. I so wanted to encourage her, but in my awkwardness, I expected her to tell me what she needed. She is a wise woman, and even in her sorrow, she instructed me, “Don’t ask me, just do. When you bring my a glass of ice water, without asking, you comfort me.” Or at least, that was the lesson I took away. You do the thinking. Sometimes people can be specific about what will help them, but often it can just feel like more work for them when they are already tired. Make suggestions. Be creative. Think about what you would like in their situation. It doesn’t have to be the perfect comfort, but even offering it will be a source of relief and care. Reach out. Stretch yourself. More from sweet Melanie on how to serve, “However, if you offer something, don’t make it about you. If it doesn’t work for the ill person, don’t take that personally. Many have walked away and never offered help again because they didn’t understand accepting their offer would have made me sicker. I am left between taking care of myself, or taking care of you. That’s a hard place to leave someone who is struggling with severe health issues.”

As you process with someone you care for, work hard to respect their choices. They may have a much different approach to suffering or illness than you do. Your kindness is not wasted, but your strong repeated advice can become an unintended burden. There are so many ways to approach medical choices. The array of health supplements can be overwhelming. Share cautiously, and with gentleness, hands open. If they don’t follow your loving advice, give them space, and continue to support them as they journey.

When someone I care for is in trouble, I often close our time of sharing with saying a prayer for them. Taking their hand, we bring the challenge to God and lift it to Him, leaving it in His Hands. These things are too heavy to bear alone, and God has power to guide us and provide solutions that we may not even have considered. Beware of making your prayer a long list of preaching what you think is best for your friend. Pray just as you would listen, with an open heart of love.

My on-line chemo angel, Marnie, took the time to share with me when I asked her what helps on her journey. She wrote, “What I like is to hear people are thinking of me, keeping me in their thoughts and prayers. Some have sent little charms. I take them all with me in my shirt pocket for chemo. My catholic friends know I’m not catholic but the best gifts I’ve received from the is the medallion for the patron saint of cancer and a homemade rosary. I have one friend that lives close by. We get together to commiserate about life in general about once a month.” Marnie, herself, has been a great encouragement and a guide to me through this process.

 

Practical Ways to Serve

You can take great joy in blessing others! There are many creative ways to serve with the gifts and interests that God has given you. Here are just a few ways people have comforted me.

Give care packages of comforting treats — jammies, soft blankets, yarn, slippers, books, tea, honey, journals, gift cards, lotion, lip balm, crafts, flowers, chocolate….you get the idea. Make dinner and drop it by. My sweet Katie formed a meal train to lift the load for a season. I have a lovely friend who brings me homemade bread and soup every week. Perfect when I need an easy meal. My son, Samuel, makes lovely fish tacos for all of us, with fresh salsa and all the trimmings. My Mom and her husband Greg make Kombucha for me every week. Not only does it provide probiotics, my nature friends are happy I am doing something on the alternative treatment list.

Melanie shares from her experience,”Let a suffering person know you remember them, you think of them, you pray for them. Whether that be in little reminders dropped at the door, a card in the mail or a text… keep ‘em coming!!! As my illness stretched into years, fewer and fewer people let me know I wasn’t forgotten… until one day, I found that I believed I had been forgotten! And don’t be offended or give up because you don’t hear back. Don’t make it about you. Your notes mean the world to someone working to just survive moment by moment.”

If there is financial need, you might include cash or gift cards with a kind note. This can be humbling for your ill friend, but is often a great blessing at the same time. Be sensitive and unobtrusive. One dear lady brings me beautiful bouquets that brighten our home and make me feel thoroughly pampered. Some may offer to run errands or to transport to treatment, staying to visit, if appropriate. Sitting and laughing with a friend, while my body receives chemo, makes the time pass quickly and shifts the focus. I forget that Compass Oncology is for cancer patients as we munch white cheddar popcorn and share our lives.

One tidy friend offered to clean my bathroom. Now, we have the kind of relationship that can handle this, so use your own judgement, but when someone is ill, often the ordinary chores go undone, as they just try to maintain the bare-bones basics. When my lovely Anna comes to visit, dirty dishes disappear and the laundry folds itself. Relief! Ask, “Can I come vacuum for you? Can I clean your fridge? How about I take out your recyclables? Light bulb needs changed — on it! Library books need returned — can do! Yes, I’ll drop your mail at the post office.”

It is important to all of us to feel necessary. I learn this from Melanie,”Let your friend know how they have impacted your life. Illness can be a helpless feeling of insignificance. But you care about them for a reason. Let them know why and what you remember about how they touched your life. Do it over and over.”

Physical touch can be a real need. Hugs are a staple. I am always a little surprised when a friend kisses me, but it has a deep impact. I sense their great care for my well-being. My sister will give me a hand massage. My strong daughter Rachel rubs my back. Touch is powerful and healing. Even sitting near can be a solace. My small group leader gifted me with a massage gift certificate. Wonderful!

I wanted a comfort kitty. What a got was a quirky, silly farm cat that brings me delight and naps with me. Sometimes I have to make her, but then she settles in. She sips water every morning from a stream in the faucet and guards my shower time with persistent vigilance. She follows me around like a little dog and melts in front of the wood stove, a sweet-smelling little animal. Best of all, she makes me chuckle everyday. My friend Jill found her for me, so she was free (unless you count all the gear we needed to be good cat owners.) Lily is practical love, expressed. And kind son Richard expresses care by scooping her box for me when I ask him. Load lifted!

Remember to support the whole family. Illness or trouble affects everyone close to your friend.  She is deeply concerned for her people. Supporting loved ones is support. Check in with the kids. Chat with the spouse, especially about everyday things. It doesn’t all need to be about the difficulties. Being a kind friend means much to the whole family unit.

Finally, let your friend do things on his or her own. Support them in continuing healthy, doable activities. This helps them feel “normal” and capable. Let them serve you. Give them room to decide what their limits are. That is a crucial part of self-respect and in a “do unto others as you would have them do for you” attitude, sometimes it means giving them freedom to decide what they can and can’t do.

Comforting Communication

Words are so important. Scripture gives great guidance on this. Because of who He is, God calls us to unity, to care for one another, to sustain each other in this challenging life. Jesus was the greatest example of giving and serving those He loved, paying the bill for our sin, giving up His own life for ours. Part of the result of that sacrifice is that we now have the privilege of loving and serving each other.

“For God has not appointed us to suffer wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with Him. Therefore encourage and build one another up, just as you are already doing.” (1 Thess. 5:9-11)

As you visit with your troubled friend, talk not only about the trouble, but about the “normal” stuff that made you friends to begin with.  Share your life experiences. Laugh together. Initiate visits, at whatever calendar load works for your person. Sometimes visits need to be shorter, due to weariness. Other times, you’ll have to wait a bit, as their calendar may be full. Offer with an open hand. Each situation is unique.

As time passes, the feelings of isolation can grow. Melanie shares, “Isolation is a really difficult aspect of illness. All texts, notes and conversations don’t have to be about me and my illness. If I’m stuck at home or hospital, I feel left out if I don’t have people keeping me up to date on things other than me – it’s not gossip… it’s just things I would hear about or know if I was out and about. At the same time, don’t be afraid to ask hard questions about the suffering your friend is experiencing. Don’t ignore the elephant in the room. That too is isolating.”

I feel Melanie has some good counsel on being sensitive about how long to stay for a visit, “As you come along side someone who is suffering, be ever vigilant of signs that they need the conversation to come to an end. I have one friend who visited me every 3-4 months. She taught herself to constantly search my face, and listen to the tone and sound of my voice, and watch the posture of my body, to recognize, often even before I did myself, that I was wearing out and it was time to end the visit. She would stop and say, you are getting tired. Let’s pray. She would pray for me, and then stand up and leave. I hated it… and I loved it! I hated having to keep visits so short, but I loved that I could give her permission to come anytime because I knew she would be sensitive to how I felt that day, and how I held up during our visit.”

Marnie had some great things to say about laughter, “I have found that the best days are the days I get in lots of laughter. I want my friends to laugh with me. Good belly laughs. From the soul. No pity laughs. That doesn’t fly with me. Laughter is the best medicine.”

Send caring cards, Messenger notes, Facebook comments, happy texts, not always expecting a response. “Thinking of you today.” “Praying things go well.” “Have a good day.” “Can I drop by and bring you coffee?” Make an old fashioned call, leaving a cheerful message, or if they answer, asking if it is a good time to chat. Keep it short, if needed. All these say, “I care about you, and even in my own busy, full, crazy life, I’m taking a moment for you.”

I like how Marnie says it, “The little words of encouragement. One of my high school classmates…says, “Cowgirl up”. Don’t tap my hand and say there, there it’ll be all right. No. Some days suck and I want to cry. Those are the days I tell myself to cowgirl up.”

A wise friend, who knows that words are my love language, set up a Facebook support page. I am so grateful to her. There I bask in kind encouragement daily. It has been an important part of my support network. We all need to be heard and to hear that we are remembered. Social media can be a lovely tool to keep us moving forward and connecting with loving people. I can communicate quickly, and the feedback feels like those warm hugs I mentioned earlier.

In Romans 12 we hear what God has already written on our hearts, “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.”

As you love the people in your life, a sweetness grows in you. Joy increases. You do God’s work. What you’ll find is that every sacrifice of time, money, and energy, given with a cheerful heart, results in even more joy and blessing in your own life. This is our calling. May you make your world a brighter place, while caring for those in need.

Thank you to each of you who have helped me in more ways than I could have imagined.

Bless you.

 

Nightmares and Daydreams

Last night I had one of those dreams. You know, the nightmare where you show up for your final in your jammies and you forgot to write the paper. I was shuffling through piles of messy notebooks, sure I had at least enough to turn in for some sort of grade. Nope. Empty handed and panicked. Ah, so nice to wake up and remind myself that I did graduate 32 years ago.

Now I find myself in what some would call a nightmare scenario. I don’t know how long I have on this earth (guess what, no one does.) The future is uncertain (sound familiar?) There are days when I think my resources may be insufficient (anyone else?) I won’t live forever (and neither will you.)

So, when I feel things like this, I pause, just as when I wake from a disturbing dream. Thinking on what’s true helps me settle in to peaceful rest. Muscles relax. Tears dissipate. My heart is calmed.

God always seems to have some great insight on life. In Philippians 4: 8 and 9 He reminds us where to focus our thoughts:  “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever 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 it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

I start with the truth that matters most. My most important role in life can still be fulfilled, even in the middle of difficulty: Love God and love People. It’s a life-long calling, complex and simple. If I am busy thinking of others and focusing on following Jesus, my heart is more content than when I think only of myself. There’s real joy in that. I can always take time for others, even with low energy: a phone call, a note, a short visit, a prayer. And God will visit with us anytime, even in our jammies.

Another great truth: I am eternal and secure in Jesus. This life is about as long as a sneeze, but forever is forever. Finding connection with God, through the forgiving work of Jesus, gives me comfort and confidence. I will not live one day less than God wills. Each of those days is a gift. When folks ask how I’m doing, I usually respond with, “It’s a good day.” And you know what? That’s the truth. My days are full of blessings and joy and love and good food and rest and great people and all that I need.

Here’s a good one: It’s okay to dream and plan, even with a dire diagnosis. When I first realized I was super sick, my prayer was to live until my oldest son graduates in May. Now I dream about Rachel’s June wedding and a family fourth of July in Montana. I will start new projects. I may even get to enjoy some wonderful grandchildren. I’m not demanding, but I’m dreaming.

James 4:13-15 reminds us how to plan and dream, “Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”

We all live one day at a time, whether we recognize it or not. Dream, and check in with God on your plans. Talk it over with Him. Seek to glorify Him in all you do, and you’ll find a place of rest. Don’t be a slave to nightmares, rather be a celebrator of truth as you dream sweet dreams.

Rest well, my friends.

Cancer Girl

Batman lurks somberly high above the dark city, perched on a skyscraper sill, brooding. Alone. Isolated. Superhero.

I know a little of how he feels. When my diagnosis first descended into our lives, I made an announcement at my prayer support group, “It’s not like I’m Cancer Girl. I’m still me.” Declared this to my friends of many years. Why?

Because when you have a mortal illness, suddenly you live in a different world. A separated feeling descends. Lonely and different. Folks are kind and loving, and unsure. We all don’t make it out alive, but we painfully avoid conversations about death, loss, and suffering. Our preference is to enjoy the numb bliss of living as though there is no termination. Perhaps that is because we were made to live forever. Death entered the world way back in the early days of Papa Adam and Granny Eve. When sin discolored our new world, so did illness and death. Our natural enemies.

I have discovered the shadow of death always clouding a corner of even my brightest moments. I’ll tell Rick, “Hey, I’m not dead yet. Let’s enjoy this great day.” To which he replies, “Yes, but I have a nail in my foot.” It’s hard to enjoy even Disneyland, when you are on tiptoe to avoid scraping that nail…future and present loss. In some ways, I have felt that Cancer Girl is already dead. So what to do?

We’ve all heard the phrase, “Living with cancer.” It’s a life path of balancing Miralax, rest, social opportunities, and doctor visits. It’s the absence of old routines of work and training and relationships. A new normal.

It’s a blessing and a curse. I prefer to focus on the blessing, while living with the reality of the curse. Thankfully, that’s not all there is to our stories. Scripture tells us that, “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” (1 Cor. 15:26) So even in the middle of looming darkness, Jesus’ redemption and resurrection cast a glistening mist. There is hope in the middle of the Valley of the Shadow, including the joy of eternity with Him. As we accept His redemption, we are released from the curse and can live in joy and blessing.

Blessings. Overwhelming love and support, even in moments, comments, hugs, gifts, cards, soup and bread. Family moving in close to walk the path with me, spending more time and love in the midst of their full schedules. The sweet prayers of those I know, and those I don’t. The slower pace of life. Time to sew, organize, breathe, heal, commune. A voice that folks listen to, because I speak from the edge of a dark skyscraper.

Scripture guides this new Cancer Girl character. Romans 8 speaks strong words of God’s perspective. Famous verse 28, “ And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” Even in illness and weakness, God’s amazing miracle of revealing treasure prevails.

I have seen this. Such great conversations of encouragement, for me and others. Salvation. Opportunities to support my fellow superheroes at the cancer clinic. Tenderized hearts sharing deeply in my circles. Time to love people more. A greater connection with my spiritual health, eclipsing the focus on the body. Learning to build healthy boundaries and take care of myself. Deeper appreciation for the wonders of my days. Perspective on priorities.

When Spiderman was bitten by an arachnid, it seemed a calamity, but he learned to use his new identity for the good of others, mightily embracing the super-normal. Cancer Girl has a life of her own, and if I open my heart to this new experience, it is a powerful place of blessing and change for me and for those I love. All of you.

As long as I travel this road, I will embrace this role, this plague and this privilege.

Celebrating Pump Freedom Day at Compass Clinic.