A simple visit

“Look here,” instructs the doctor as he points to the dark spots on the graph representing some visual “blanks” in my right peripheral field of vision.

“Sometimes this is simply an artifact.” He pauses briefly, “Now look here.”  The kind doctor pulls the next graph from his stack of test results. “This is your left eye.  Although not as pronounced it too has some deficits.”  He lets that sink in before proceeding.  “When the two of these occur together it is suspicious for a possible tumor.”

Did he just say tumor?

“I think we should do an MRI just to be safe.  But before we do that let’s redo this exam on Thursday and see if it is reproducible,” He suggests without really wanting any input from me.

“You know,” I stammer, with a little smile on my face, masking the sudden terror that the back of my mind is experiencing.  “You know, what my mind is thinking don’t you?  (Nervous short laugh). Could this be a cancer re-occurrence? I just finished my last treatment about one year ago.”

He looks up from his computer, the one he was documenting numbers and impressions on.  “Cancer? When did you have that?”  And I explain to him about the history of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation and the current daily tamoxifen which I had previously conveyed to his assistant.  He seems extra-alert.  Perhaps that’s just my imagination though.  “Ah… given your symptoms and these results I cannot rule out any brain mets,” he quietly says half way to himself and to me. And he leans over his computer once again.  Reviewing the results and what he wrote. 

“I’ll see you Thursday and we will repeat these tests.  If the results are the same then I think we’ll do an MRI.  If they improve we will just watch and see.” And he shakes my warm hand with his cool one and gives me an encouraging smile before he exits the little room. 

“OK,” I stammer and get up to leave, grabbing my winter coat, red scarf, and black purse, escorted through the maze of the office by his kind assistant.  “See you Thursday!” she encouragingly says before she too is off to the next patient, the next appointment.

I just went to get my eyes checked.

For the past few weeks my right eye has been having difficulty seeing – especially at night when the lights become beautiful star-shaped colors – like looking at lights through rain drops. My glasses help some but less so every day.  And then there is this nagging, not really painful, pressure at the temporal side of the eye.  More irritating and distracting than painful.  At first I attributed it to the stress of my job – I am on my computer many hours a day – and so eye fatigue seemed a satisfactory explanation.  Then, when the glasses did not seem to help at all – and only increased my headache – I called my ophthalmologist. 

Tumor?

My thoughts and emotions get all entangled as I drive home in the cold drizzly gray of a January rain. My cure from stage III ductal breast cancer seems tenuous – resting on hopes of successful treatment – treatments which were quite costly – costly on many different levels.  Successive tests with negative results reinforcing the possibility of a longer earthly life.  Yet, always, the little voice with the concern that it could come back lingers.  It lies there suppressed most of the time.

Next week I have my third quarterly checkup with my wonderful oncologist at Mayo Clinic.

Today’s Journey Joys:  seedling shelves being created, a flexible and challenging job, decluttering, blustery north west wind, a bus driver who loves Ally

A Pondering about Good Works

The whirling sound of the warm forced-air heat blowing through the heat registers in our fifty-or-so year old farm house seems constant on this beautiful snow-sparkly winter day.  This weekday has been filled with getting children to school, teaching and grading graduate student papers, organizing aberrant household items, and researching.  The rumbling dishwasher has scrubbed clean my old glass gallon pickle jars.  They now rest, upside down, on the gas stove burners.  In a few hours I will endeavor to store my new whole grains in these pretty, dry and airtight containers.  Oat bran, quinoa, whole wheat flour, barley, lentils…. Eventually I hope to make some wooden shelves to display them on and to have ready access.

And I’ve been thinking.

Reflecting.

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:10 ESV)

Over the past few months I believe the idea of starting a Handy Person Ministry at our church has been brewing.  Actually, it’s hard for me to fathom that there isn’t one already.  Don’t get me wrong, the faithful serve.  They encourage, help, pray, cook and render aid.  Yet there are so many hurting people – in the church – in which a little handy person could make a positive impact.  The widow, the orphan, the single parent, the ill, the seniors of the church…. I see the investment of a few hours a month into the lives of one of these as a method of demonstrating Christ’s love for us – the Church.  Imagine, a chronically dripping faucet repaired in an hour by a competent person.  Not only does the faucet get repaired but the love and Christ-community built during the encounter gets cultivated and strengthened.  A creaky paint-chipped fence, sidewalk stones dangerously uneven, a hard to reach light fixture needing a bulb replaced, a hole accidentally created with the swing of the door needing patching, windows needing washing, trim painting, weeding, bush trimming, planting, wiring, tiling, hanging curtain rods, lawn mowing…. The ideas and possibilities are endless.  And there are those in the church who have these special handy talents.  More importantly, there are those in the church with these special handy needs – with limited resources and skills.  

“So then as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” (Galatians 6:10 ESV).

I’ve written up a draft proposal.

And I’ve been sitting on it. It lies in the bowels of my computer.  Afraid. Knowing that I am a dreamer – an idea person – a vision shaper. Not a great doer of details. What if in bringing the idea I am asked to coordinate the efforts?  I can help; I do not believe I have the energy to make it happen. Paralyzed in doubt.

And so the proposal waits...  

Today’s Journey Joys: shiny glass pickle jars, vacuum cleaners capturing dust bunnies, a growing burning desire to grow in Christ-community, take-out restaurants with delicious spaghetti, and longer winter daylight hours.

Frames and Words

Source: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX9YANgxTwV_b70orqUEqsxae3ThedvGxcQZk7URnAXBLMrDeTnjFdqkZar8zptwSSe89AIIonddRS9hG1f5eLif5cYUPaTMrBY5iqKhrdR_uAIZBhJdmtT2pOUb3SproMqAVvNT2Vr4A/s1600/wall+of+frames+8.jpg

Frames.  They set boundaries and simultaneously focus attention.  Sometimes ornate and beautiful; sometimes simple and unassuming. Each created to hold something, to highlight something, or someone.  Frames are not only physical or tangible.  They can be metaphorical, abstract, or conceptual. 

“So what are your goals this year Chris?” Beth asks as we enjoy our Mexican meal at a local restaurant, seated in a wooden booth with a dark wooden table top and warm lighting. Spicy chicken and avocado sandwich wrap and cheese enchiladas.  I thought about it briefly.  Moments before Beth had outlined specific goals for her annual development in measurable and ambitious fashion.  She encased them all within her “word” for the year. (For the life of me I can’t remember that word!)  Impressive though.  Her analytical mind a wonder to behold.  I loved hearing her longing for growth in the facets of her being – physical, emotional, spiritual, social and mental.  Her goals, aspirations, specific tasks to reach the goal, and her heart for the desire to become who she was created to be were truly remarkable. Inspiring.  So with a pause in the conversation and a return to her meal she asked, “So what are your goals this year Chris?”

“Ah, well, my goals are a little more “directional” rather than specific ones,” I mumbled out a little sheepishly. I explained, “I’ve made holistic goals, with measurable results and specificity for decades now.  What I find is that I typically make them too lofty, too unattainable and at the same time not expansive enough.”  Beth nods, listening with a smile and an upward twinkle in her deep brown eyes.  “My goals are….” And I proceed to describe the direction I wish to head in 2016. 

Healthy.

My word for the year.  Healthy. The frame which will encapsulate my life choices, decisions, thoughts, meditations and direction.  This year my daily query will be, “Is this healthy?”  “Is this decision or action (or whatever...) in the best interest of being healthy?”   

When I am planning and making meals – are my choices health – full?  Do they improve my health and the health of my family?

When I am sitting in my chair, grading papers, writing remarks, preparing presentations, am I focused?  Or are my thoughts wondering, emotions disturbed, harboring negativity or criticism towards my students? Are these thoughts healthy for me?  For them?

When I am learning new skills, (for example growing table grapes, using raised beds and plastic mulch, growing currants, and vegetarian cooking – all skills which I am growing in this year), are my choices and efforts healthy?  Do I put enough emphasis on the development of these skills?  What do I need to do to be more healthy in this area?

When I consider my daily exercise – an area in which I have struggled my entire life – is my activity or choice of inactivity improving my health?  What amount would be healthy? 

When I desire to grow in my knowledge and relationship with Christ – are my daily practices healthy?  Anemic?  Well rounded?  Am I developing or stagnating? A plant that doesn’t grow, dies.  Am I investing in the lives of those around me?  Are my decisions for spiritual growth healthy?

Healthy. 

My daily, mundane decisions will go through this filter – healthy.  “Is what I am about to do, is what I am thinking, is what I am watching, is what I am meditating on, is what I am considering….. is it healthy?

No, I do not have specific goals –some would say they are not goals at all - a little nebulous. Yet they are directional, framed.  

“And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.” (Luke 2:52)

Growing in all these areas.  This is healthy.  This is good.

Today's Journey Joys: filthy gloves cleaned with dirt speckled suds, pounds and pounds of free ranged, pastured scrumptious turkey, the start of a woman's bible study this evening, shopping the edges of the grocery store where whole foods are, renewable wood burning furnace keeping our home cozy warm, hot cups of steamy coffee.

Musings

We sit in the second row at church in theater-like, dark blue cushioned seats.  We always have.  Few, if any, sit in front of us and so our view of the worship team and pastor is unimpeded by heads, hair, hats, and bouncing children.  We started this practice when our children were young – it helped their wondering eyes and thoughts focus more readily on the experience and on the Word.  For me , well, it makes our big church feel small…intimate.  Just the four of us and the pastor. 

Last evening as we gathered with our church family, I was struck with that incomparable heavenly experience again  – the one that fills the soul with warmth and meaning, with purpose and praise.  The one that gives glimmers of Hope and Presence.  A preview. Like licking the batter off the spoon from the cookie dough – it was a taste of Goodness – leaving a longing for the Real.

The experience was sweet.  Oh, so deeply and richly sweet. 

And as I sat there, my heart and mind were reminded of my story from these past two years.  I have been shaped by the experience of cancer and cancer treatment. It is integral to who I am and how I know and am known by God.  And I have kept it to myself.  Thinking that this intimate experience, those heavenly tastes I savored, were too personal or overly ethereal to describe.  That my words would be lacking.  And in some sense perhaps that is true.  How can one, truly how can anyone, describe in mere words what it means to catch a glimpse of the Lord? To know Him more deeply?

The pastor read from I Chronicles 16:8 “Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon his name; make known his deeds among the peoples.”  He then stopped and repeated these words slowly for all to ponder, “The worst thing you can do is be silent.”

And there he paused.

The words rolled over and over in my mind long after he returned to his sermon. “….be silent…..be silent… worst thing you can do is be silent”. 

I have been silent.

The hot liquid began mounding up within my eyes, threatening to spill in rivers. My face flushed, my breathing shallowed.  The heart quickened in pace.  I remembered.  I remembered.... My story.  The one He wrote for me.  The one I was healed to share. 

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (I Thessalonians 5:16-18) The wet emotion now spilling over the brim of my eyes….. How could I have forgotten?

“…..this is very similar to what Paul said in First Thessalonians…..” the pastor’s irenic voice penetrated my inner reverie.

And my heart pounded harder.  His words,  the exact ones I had just “reheard” in my thoughts – his words saturated and refuted my excuses and my long distractions.

“I will write it. I will not be silent any longer.”  

 And so begins the writing of the story..... the one written for me..... the one I need to share.

Today's Journey Joys: reflections of presence, warm and wonderful heat in the midst of winter cold, children playing the Wii, salty sweet pretzels, mounds of shredded paper, and an old but fresh pillow for our outside rough and tumble cat "Snowy".... all curled up and sleeping.