Today is our anniversary. And I guess you could say, “what a way to spend it.” But I'm not saying that. Not just because to do so would be counter-productive or depressing, but because it's not accurate. We've been married nine years, have two wonderful boys and for all the sadness and difficulty of the past 18 months, it doesn't compare to the love and friendship we have. I suppose that sounds too good to be true, or trite, or denial of reality. Of course, I wish that we never had to deal with all this. But if you let it take away who you are and what the Lord has given you, you have something worse than cancer.
So, while there is not world enough and time, I have found that the Lord redeems the past. And when this is the past, there will be plenty of time to get back what has been put on hold. And more than that: Melissa and I have never needed a special day. Each day has been enough on its own to reinforce the love and joy in our hearts.
Believe it or not.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Melissa is still in the hospital. Doing a little better. She is still not able to take all her meds, but she is getting there. Keep lifting her up in prayer. I am not sure what else to say at this time. The docs are waiting for test results to see if this is from the brain radiation or if it is a sign of graft-versus-hsot disease, which sounds bad but is good-- it means the transplant will fight cancer cells. It is a long road and I think that is where Melissa is in all this: seeing that it is a long road.
Tekna-logy
Ruben, one of our pastoral staff, let me borrow a book, Jesus is My Uncle, a look at how language and culture interact with theology. It comes on the heels of a few conversations Ruben and I have had concerning multi-cultural ministry. We're fully aware that it's not supposed to work-- people like others just like them. For example, isn't it interesting that often the people who talk the most about diversity live, work, and worship in monocultural places? It's hard to let diversity be more than an idea. For example, in history, you will find nothing more diverse than Christian orthodoxy. Being hard-core and sold out to the Trinity and to the authority of the Scriptures is an incredible basis for entering into relationship with all peoples, nations, and races. But I digress.
This is a strange direction to take this, but I guess if you know me, it'll start to make sense. A friend of mine sent me this list:
If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd build self-esteem first and the house later.
I'd finger paint more and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often and affirm much more.
I'd model less about the love of power and more about the power of love.
It's really good advice, and hard to pull off! Morning is when you have to decide what kind of day you're going to have. I think especially with the boys, I have to make the decision that today will be good. What does this have to do with multicultural ministry? Glad you asked...
A few days ago, I did not make the decision to be calm enough to deal with the boys early in the morning. I made no decision, which, spiritually, is a decision. Things were going along fine until it was time to leave. It was the first day of school and Joseph looked at his new backpack and saw that he did not have a lunch bag. He balked at leaving and I told him we needed to go. He said, but where's my lunch? I said, “you'll eat at school, in the lunchroom.” He got a little more agitated. I said, “Come on! Let's go!” I started pushing him out the door. He said, “But I brought my ice-packs back, Daddy, and Mammaw said...” I cut him off and sent him to the car crying.
It took me until later that day to realize what had happened in his mind. At his daycare during the summer, he started taking his lunch the last two weeks he was there. He had ice packs in them, but forgot to bring them home, so he couldn't take his lunch until he brought them back. So when he saw his backpack ready for school but no lunch, he thought he was being punished when he had done right.
So while that was not the case, it was the case in Joe's mind. And not only did he not get to take a lunch (meaning being punished), he also got yelled at and hurried along. And on the first day of school no less!
At its heart, the situation was a misunderstanding between cultures. It's hard to see it that way, because we think of children as... people becoming adults. No doubt, that is true. But, at some point we have to recognize that children have a worth all their own, that they stand as independent beings who at each stage of their development need to be seen as people, people who have a right to their culture and language. It is our denial of the basic humanity of children that makes abortion possible. Short of that, they die a thousand deaths of cruelty, abuse, poverty, and neglect.
So, while we can on the one side say that Joseph needed to know that he was going to a new school where he would be eating in the lunchroom and not taking his lunch, I also needed to try to figure out why he was so adamant about having brought his ice packs back. The whole problem could have been solved by stepping back. Even if I could not have made the connection, I could have at least tried to handle it differently. But, I was on a time-table. My own, really. 5 minutes would not have made a bit of difference in my day.
But, see, we want what we want. I wanted Joe to hop-to, when I said. [Now, of course there are times when children have to learn to listen and obey]. This is the challenge for dealing with other cultures; we want what we want when we want it. We don't want to deal with another language, or accommodate ways of thinking that don't mesh with ours [and you have to know that I am not a relativist].
In my encounter with Joe, in all my encounters with the lovely, frustrating, funny, heartbreaking, and always entertaining and enlightening culture of my boys, I find this end at work: I am trying to learn to speak to them, to work with where they are. And yes, part of that is to help raise them, to usher them into “adult culture.” Which I wonder about-- do I want to be in adult culture?!?! But another part is to find a way to usher them into Kingdom Culture. It's a question of evangelism (you knew it had to come back to that!): am I winsome enough and open enough and (most important) motivated enough to cross the barriers that separate us from each other? To be united in Christ! Not as an idea, that we share the same values, or something, but that we are one in Him.
This is a strange direction to take this, but I guess if you know me, it'll start to make sense. A friend of mine sent me this list:
If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd build self-esteem first and the house later.
I'd finger paint more and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often and affirm much more.
I'd model less about the love of power and more about the power of love.
It's really good advice, and hard to pull off! Morning is when you have to decide what kind of day you're going to have. I think especially with the boys, I have to make the decision that today will be good. What does this have to do with multicultural ministry? Glad you asked...
A few days ago, I did not make the decision to be calm enough to deal with the boys early in the morning. I made no decision, which, spiritually, is a decision. Things were going along fine until it was time to leave. It was the first day of school and Joseph looked at his new backpack and saw that he did not have a lunch bag. He balked at leaving and I told him we needed to go. He said, but where's my lunch? I said, “you'll eat at school, in the lunchroom.” He got a little more agitated. I said, “Come on! Let's go!” I started pushing him out the door. He said, “But I brought my ice-packs back, Daddy, and Mammaw said...” I cut him off and sent him to the car crying.
It took me until later that day to realize what had happened in his mind. At his daycare during the summer, he started taking his lunch the last two weeks he was there. He had ice packs in them, but forgot to bring them home, so he couldn't take his lunch until he brought them back. So when he saw his backpack ready for school but no lunch, he thought he was being punished when he had done right.
So while that was not the case, it was the case in Joe's mind. And not only did he not get to take a lunch (meaning being punished), he also got yelled at and hurried along. And on the first day of school no less!
At its heart, the situation was a misunderstanding between cultures. It's hard to see it that way, because we think of children as... people becoming adults. No doubt, that is true. But, at some point we have to recognize that children have a worth all their own, that they stand as independent beings who at each stage of their development need to be seen as people, people who have a right to their culture and language. It is our denial of the basic humanity of children that makes abortion possible. Short of that, they die a thousand deaths of cruelty, abuse, poverty, and neglect.
So, while we can on the one side say that Joseph needed to know that he was going to a new school where he would be eating in the lunchroom and not taking his lunch, I also needed to try to figure out why he was so adamant about having brought his ice packs back. The whole problem could have been solved by stepping back. Even if I could not have made the connection, I could have at least tried to handle it differently. But, I was on a time-table. My own, really. 5 minutes would not have made a bit of difference in my day.
But, see, we want what we want. I wanted Joe to hop-to, when I said. [Now, of course there are times when children have to learn to listen and obey]. This is the challenge for dealing with other cultures; we want what we want when we want it. We don't want to deal with another language, or accommodate ways of thinking that don't mesh with ours [and you have to know that I am not a relativist].
In my encounter with Joe, in all my encounters with the lovely, frustrating, funny, heartbreaking, and always entertaining and enlightening culture of my boys, I find this end at work: I am trying to learn to speak to them, to work with where they are. And yes, part of that is to help raise them, to usher them into “adult culture.” Which I wonder about-- do I want to be in adult culture?!?! But another part is to find a way to usher them into Kingdom Culture. It's a question of evangelism (you knew it had to come back to that!): am I winsome enough and open enough and (most important) motivated enough to cross the barriers that separate us from each other? To be united in Christ! Not as an idea, that we share the same values, or something, but that we are one in Him.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
No Title, Which is a Title...
Melissa has been fighting a staph infection the past few days. She had a high fever, but no other symptoms and her labs looked normal. But then blood cultures showed something, most likely staph. So she is on a strong iv antibiotic.
Last night her fever broke, which is hopefully a good thing.
Staph infection sounds horrible, but there's many different kinds, and as she has not been admitted to the hospital, we're hoping it's minor and over with quickly. It's one of those OMDTs. But we had a good time in prayer, and you always find the truth with Jesus; so often we fool ourselves, or we say things that aren't true to make others (and ourselves!) feel better. But the Psalms especially are honest about the battle and the fear and the trials-- and about God and His mercies, His grace, His ministries.
When I came in from prayer meeting last night, the boys were in bed, sort of. They had a lamp on and had my Willie Nelson song book out. “Sing us a song out of this book.” So I sang “Yesterday's Wine,” my favorite Willie song. Then “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Then I went with some Bob Wills, “Still Waters,” “I Wonder if You Feel the Way I Do?” and ended with “Dusty Skies.” I could feel them fall asleep in my arms.
Last night her fever broke, which is hopefully a good thing.
Staph infection sounds horrible, but there's many different kinds, and as she has not been admitted to the hospital, we're hoping it's minor and over with quickly. It's one of those OMDTs. But we had a good time in prayer, and you always find the truth with Jesus; so often we fool ourselves, or we say things that aren't true to make others (and ourselves!) feel better. But the Psalms especially are honest about the battle and the fear and the trials-- and about God and His mercies, His grace, His ministries.
When I came in from prayer meeting last night, the boys were in bed, sort of. They had a lamp on and had my Willie Nelson song book out. “Sing us a song out of this book.” So I sang “Yesterday's Wine,” my favorite Willie song. Then “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Then I went with some Bob Wills, “Still Waters,” “I Wonder if You Feel the Way I Do?” and ended with “Dusty Skies.” I could feel them fall asleep in my arms.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Sweet Boys
A friend said to me yesterday something like, “the boys have Melissa's sunshine face, so it must be a real joy to walk into the house and see them.” Absolutely. Whoever comes home first, me or them, there is a big welcome. It's been that way since they were very small. It's pretty special.
Melissa went to the clinic Friday, and her platelets are holding steady, down a little bit, but not drastically. All the other levels are looking good. She has more energy. To wit: Friday afternoon, she and I went and got the boys' school supplies. This is for real-- John starts Kindergarten, so it felt different to get those kind of school supplies. I was so glad that Melissa was able to go with me and even walk thru Wal-Mart! I know it meant a lot to her, too.
Then yesterday, we took the boys to get their hair cuts. After that we went to let them get their back packs for school. Then we went to Barnes and Noble (a favorite hangout for the whole family). It was raining a little bit so I ran John and Joe up to the door, and Melissa was behind, walking a little more slowly. John reached out his arms, as if to say, “Come on, Mommy!” Then he ran out into the rain to get her. He waited at the edge of the sidewalk with his arms out. I guess words can't do justice to the sweetness of the picture.
Melissa went to the clinic Friday, and her platelets are holding steady, down a little bit, but not drastically. All the other levels are looking good. She has more energy. To wit: Friday afternoon, she and I went and got the boys' school supplies. This is for real-- John starts Kindergarten, so it felt different to get those kind of school supplies. I was so glad that Melissa was able to go with me and even walk thru Wal-Mart! I know it meant a lot to her, too.
Then yesterday, we took the boys to get their hair cuts. After that we went to let them get their back packs for school. Then we went to Barnes and Noble (a favorite hangout for the whole family). It was raining a little bit so I ran John and Joe up to the door, and Melissa was behind, walking a little more slowly. John reached out his arms, as if to say, “Come on, Mommy!” Then he ran out into the rain to get her. He waited at the edge of the sidewalk with his arms out. I guess words can't do justice to the sweetness of the picture.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Strange Praise
“You have now tasted the bitter brew that is a captain's life”
--Captain Sir Edward Pellew, HMS Indefatigable
I guess about 6 years ago I went to the VA Hospital to visit my best friend in seminary, David Crow. He was a retired Navy Officer. His cancer had returned, and it looked like it was probably going to get him. I went back to the parking lot after visiting with him and cried. I kept thinking, “Lord, I can't drink the cup.”
There was one last hurrah, Annual Conference. We ate some meals together, esp at Mark's BBQ (Conference was in Louisville) and we talked about the deep things: salvation, heaven on earth (we are Methodists, after all!), and the hard demands of the Gospel. David died the next February.
Melissa's uncle Jerry called me a few days ago. A fellow he works with has a granddaughter at UK Hospital, leukemia. The family did not know much about it yesterday. I went back today and Amanda, the mother, told me that the little girl, Brianna, has ALL, the same leukemia Melissa has.
I knew they were going to be pretty freaked out by the treatment regimen, so I took some time to encourage them, to let them know someone else knows the language. (And Polly, you should be proud of me. I think I did an ok job of explaining the mechanism of the disease in layman's terms. I know you don't agree, but I should have some kind of honorary degree after all this...)
Early on, when Melissa was diagnosed, she said that she hoped no matter what happened that she could have some hand in helping people come to faith and/or be comforted in their own struggle. I guess the liminal place I am is recognizing that we are in a war. And the sooner people figure that out, the better. And when they have figured it out, then we stick together and tough it out.
If you're lucky, a fellowship develops in the worst situations. I don't know why it's this way, that from Melissa's illness has come this moment of being able to say to a scared and sad mother, “You will get through this!” Some of you know I don't have a lot of patience for arguing about the problem of evil. While I appreciate the minds that can delve into it, in the end you want something you can take into the concentration camp, and modal logic ain't it. The answer to the problem of evil and suffering is the Cross.
I remember the most powerful sermon I have ever heard. Olav Parnemets talking about John 19, the Calvary Congregation, staying close to the cross of Jesus. From a man who had to fight the KGB. I keep learning what he means about staying close to the Cross. You know, the Cross should be more obvious to us than it is. Things can end badly. At least, you should know it is war. If it doesn't kill us, it'll surely break our hearts. In the battle of Belleau Wood, USMC Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly yelled at his troops before they attacked, “What's the matter with you s.o.b.'s? Do you want to live forever?”
Take an ironic (irenic?) twist on those words: do you want to live forever?
Then lay down your life. Greater love hath no man but that he lay down his life for his friends.
--Captain Sir Edward Pellew, HMS Indefatigable
I guess about 6 years ago I went to the VA Hospital to visit my best friend in seminary, David Crow. He was a retired Navy Officer. His cancer had returned, and it looked like it was probably going to get him. I went back to the parking lot after visiting with him and cried. I kept thinking, “Lord, I can't drink the cup.”
There was one last hurrah, Annual Conference. We ate some meals together, esp at Mark's BBQ (Conference was in Louisville) and we talked about the deep things: salvation, heaven on earth (we are Methodists, after all!), and the hard demands of the Gospel. David died the next February.
Melissa's uncle Jerry called me a few days ago. A fellow he works with has a granddaughter at UK Hospital, leukemia. The family did not know much about it yesterday. I went back today and Amanda, the mother, told me that the little girl, Brianna, has ALL, the same leukemia Melissa has.
I knew they were going to be pretty freaked out by the treatment regimen, so I took some time to encourage them, to let them know someone else knows the language. (And Polly, you should be proud of me. I think I did an ok job of explaining the mechanism of the disease in layman's terms. I know you don't agree, but I should have some kind of honorary degree after all this...)
Early on, when Melissa was diagnosed, she said that she hoped no matter what happened that she could have some hand in helping people come to faith and/or be comforted in their own struggle. I guess the liminal place I am is recognizing that we are in a war. And the sooner people figure that out, the better. And when they have figured it out, then we stick together and tough it out.
If you're lucky, a fellowship develops in the worst situations. I don't know why it's this way, that from Melissa's illness has come this moment of being able to say to a scared and sad mother, “You will get through this!” Some of you know I don't have a lot of patience for arguing about the problem of evil. While I appreciate the minds that can delve into it, in the end you want something you can take into the concentration camp, and modal logic ain't it. The answer to the problem of evil and suffering is the Cross.
I remember the most powerful sermon I have ever heard. Olav Parnemets talking about John 19, the Calvary Congregation, staying close to the cross of Jesus. From a man who had to fight the KGB. I keep learning what he means about staying close to the Cross. You know, the Cross should be more obvious to us than it is. Things can end badly. At least, you should know it is war. If it doesn't kill us, it'll surely break our hearts. In the battle of Belleau Wood, USMC Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly yelled at his troops before they attacked, “What's the matter with you s.o.b.'s? Do you want to live forever?”
Take an ironic (irenic?) twist on those words: do you want to live forever?
Then lay down your life. Greater love hath no man but that he lay down his life for his friends.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Sunday's Notes
Here's a totally random thought that has been bugging me. There is no animal that plays dead to trick a buzzard into coming close enough, and then the animal can eat the buzzard. I am sure a buzzard is just too nasty to eat, but then again, it's a big bird, more meat than most, and you'd think somehow, somewhere, some animal would be desperate enough to try this.
Melissa has been holding steady. Her platelet levels are holding at levels higher than they have been, so we are grateful. Not out of the woods; the docs say we're on a week-by-week schedule to see about taking out her spleen. Taking the spleen is probably the answer to the platelet issue. They might be inclined to let her platelets come up slowly, but they would really like to have a port in her brain to give the preventive chemo to her. The neurosurgeon won't put it in until the platelets are 100. So we have a ways to go. It would be wonderful if we could get her platelets up without having to take her spleen.
Me and the boys had a magic evening Saturday night. They had had a good time going to the Rock for a back-to-school bash for the neighborhood kids. We came home, they took a nap and then we swam, grilled hamburgers and played some sort of football/rugby game. It was a moment to live for-- a few hours where you let go of so many things holding you down.
Our evangelism team met again today. I have 15 people signed up to learn how to go out into the neighborhood and share faith. I am amazed that that many people are interested in such work. Anyway, as I tried to think about what we would need to get the work done, I realized we'd need a small group feel for the project. The work of evangelism takes a lot of hard work and patience, two things people in church generally don't do well. We think because it's church, and therefore spiritual, it needs to bring quick and gratifying rewards. Evangelism, however, has many pitfalls.
The idea of talking to total strangers, hoping that one day they won't be total strangers, scares most people. And then, when you realize that most people will reject you, it's discouraging. And when you have been faithfully visiting and sharing the gospel for 6 months and no one has even come to church, it gets to feel like you're not accomplishing anything. You're ready to teach 2nd grade Sunday school, or even go downtown to the soup kitchen—anything to get a quick fix of do-good.
“Evangelism fatigue,” we can call it. It hits anyone who pounds the pavement for the gospel.
But the incontrovertible fact is the best way to reach unchurched people is to visit in their homes. It's not by having events or advertising. You do those when you can't get any one to visit with you.
So I figured I need to get a group of people together to study, pray, and get to know each other. And mostly to get to the point where we could encourage each other when things are slow or difficult, and also to hold each other accountable to actually getting out and visiting people.
Well, we met today, and in only our second meeting, the things that need to happen started happening. We shared how we had come to faith, and we saw how many ways there are for people to come to believe in Christ, how many ways we have to be prepared to understand when we interact with people. And two people shared something about the difficulties in their lives that made them feel like they probably weren't cut out for faith-sharing. We were able to say to them that it is precisely the difficult places in our lives that make us the best witnesses. At some point as we get to know people, they will say to themselves, “If this fellow can go to church, so can I!” Or as people share with us the difficulties in their lives, they know that we can empathize with them.
It hit me as we were leaving that this is something like what Jesus must have been up to before he sent the 70 out on their evangelism mission. I can't emphasize enough that it it is one of the most difficult areas in church work. It's like planting an orchard or vineyard; it takes a lot of time and work to get to the fruit.
Melissa has been holding steady. Her platelet levels are holding at levels higher than they have been, so we are grateful. Not out of the woods; the docs say we're on a week-by-week schedule to see about taking out her spleen. Taking the spleen is probably the answer to the platelet issue. They might be inclined to let her platelets come up slowly, but they would really like to have a port in her brain to give the preventive chemo to her. The neurosurgeon won't put it in until the platelets are 100. So we have a ways to go. It would be wonderful if we could get her platelets up without having to take her spleen.
Me and the boys had a magic evening Saturday night. They had had a good time going to the Rock for a back-to-school bash for the neighborhood kids. We came home, they took a nap and then we swam, grilled hamburgers and played some sort of football/rugby game. It was a moment to live for-- a few hours where you let go of so many things holding you down.
Our evangelism team met again today. I have 15 people signed up to learn how to go out into the neighborhood and share faith. I am amazed that that many people are interested in such work. Anyway, as I tried to think about what we would need to get the work done, I realized we'd need a small group feel for the project. The work of evangelism takes a lot of hard work and patience, two things people in church generally don't do well. We think because it's church, and therefore spiritual, it needs to bring quick and gratifying rewards. Evangelism, however, has many pitfalls.
The idea of talking to total strangers, hoping that one day they won't be total strangers, scares most people. And then, when you realize that most people will reject you, it's discouraging. And when you have been faithfully visiting and sharing the gospel for 6 months and no one has even come to church, it gets to feel like you're not accomplishing anything. You're ready to teach 2nd grade Sunday school, or even go downtown to the soup kitchen—anything to get a quick fix of do-good.
“Evangelism fatigue,” we can call it. It hits anyone who pounds the pavement for the gospel.
But the incontrovertible fact is the best way to reach unchurched people is to visit in their homes. It's not by having events or advertising. You do those when you can't get any one to visit with you.
So I figured I need to get a group of people together to study, pray, and get to know each other. And mostly to get to the point where we could encourage each other when things are slow or difficult, and also to hold each other accountable to actually getting out and visiting people.
Well, we met today, and in only our second meeting, the things that need to happen started happening. We shared how we had come to faith, and we saw how many ways there are for people to come to believe in Christ, how many ways we have to be prepared to understand when we interact with people. And two people shared something about the difficulties in their lives that made them feel like they probably weren't cut out for faith-sharing. We were able to say to them that it is precisely the difficult places in our lives that make us the best witnesses. At some point as we get to know people, they will say to themselves, “If this fellow can go to church, so can I!” Or as people share with us the difficulties in their lives, they know that we can empathize with them.
It hit me as we were leaving that this is something like what Jesus must have been up to before he sent the 70 out on their evangelism mission. I can't emphasize enough that it it is one of the most difficult areas in church work. It's like planting an orchard or vineyard; it takes a lot of time and work to get to the fruit.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
When do I get my tattoo?
I had my first 911 call at the church. A fellow we have seen before came in and was really insistent about wanting help. But it was one of those cases where help would just enable him. He has to hit bottom, and the quicker he gets there the better for him. So I told him there wasn't anything we could do. He started getting agitated and blamed a fellow with me for getting in his business, telling bad stories about him, etc. I escorted him out and he was really torn up that a pastor was going to let him spend the night on the street. I tried to calm him down, but he was pretty upset, said he was going to kill the guy who had been with me. He lunged at the door and I held him back and told him he better go. He was a wiry fellow, and I would have had to pack a lunch to handle him. But since we can't have someone acting like that (even tho he is harmless), we called the police. Meanwhile, he started begging pretty hard in the parking lot from some folks who had left the service. I sent my muscle, two bodybuilders, Rosario and Walt, to keep an eye on things.
When things calmed down everyone was laughing and saying I finally got my first 911 call. I asked, when do I get my tattoo? We could each get a notch or something, and when we get 5 we could be “aces...”
A few nights ago, we were in the pool. I saw an Apache helicopter about ½ mile away, over HWY 60. We have those foam noodles that help you float and I got to waving one and so did John or Joe. I didn't think they'd see us or do anything, but after a minute or so of waving, the Apache turned to us and then did a steep dive. The boys loved it! God bless the troops.
Melissa is doing pretty good. After stomach flu and seizure, she's back to where she was, I think. Her platelets were 32 yesterday, and while we're not jumping up and down yet, it's good news. She is done with the radiation, has more energy. Let's keep praying that the transplant's anti-leukemic effect will take care of everything and we can be pronounced cancer-free and be done. It's a lot to ask, but when I think of the God of Israel that we know through and in Jesus Christ, it's not much, really.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.
When things calmed down everyone was laughing and saying I finally got my first 911 call. I asked, when do I get my tattoo? We could each get a notch or something, and when we get 5 we could be “aces...”
A few nights ago, we were in the pool. I saw an Apache helicopter about ½ mile away, over HWY 60. We have those foam noodles that help you float and I got to waving one and so did John or Joe. I didn't think they'd see us or do anything, but after a minute or so of waving, the Apache turned to us and then did a steep dive. The boys loved it! God bless the troops.
Melissa is doing pretty good. After stomach flu and seizure, she's back to where she was, I think. Her platelets were 32 yesterday, and while we're not jumping up and down yet, it's good news. She is done with the radiation, has more energy. Let's keep praying that the transplant's anti-leukemic effect will take care of everything and we can be pronounced cancer-free and be done. It's a lot to ask, but when I think of the God of Israel that we know through and in Jesus Christ, it's not much, really.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Birthday After
Joe had a really good birthday. It was a special day for him-- Waffle House, swimming, family, cake, presents. At one point, someone asked him why was he getting so many presents? He said, “Because everybody loves me.” True; he is surrounded by love.
Melissa was very tired; she had a long morning at the clinic and as soon as she got home, we ate lunch and opened presents. But, she seems to be ok and her platelets were at 29. Slowly but surely. But it's easy to get caught up in this or that piece of data. It can send a mood up or down. And we have to keep in mind we're always looking at more than platelets or magnesium levels. Healing. We're waiting for healing.
Joe slept with Melissa for a while last night. The boys came and piled in her bed and when I told them it was time to go down, Joe balked. “Mommy needs a bear to sleep with.” I call the boys “bears,” and what do you do when he says something so cute. So I told Melissa I would come get him when he fell asleep. John was pretty jealous. I told him we would take turns.
Well, I get up a little bit later to go get Joe. John says, “If Joe is crying, bring him down here. If he isn't crying, let him stay there.” John did a good job of making it a special day for Joseph. Joseph woke up this morning, and remembered a good day: “Thank you for my power rangers and my raptor.”
Melissa was very tired; she had a long morning at the clinic and as soon as she got home, we ate lunch and opened presents. But, she seems to be ok and her platelets were at 29. Slowly but surely. But it's easy to get caught up in this or that piece of data. It can send a mood up or down. And we have to keep in mind we're always looking at more than platelets or magnesium levels. Healing. We're waiting for healing.
Joe slept with Melissa for a while last night. The boys came and piled in her bed and when I told them it was time to go down, Joe balked. “Mommy needs a bear to sleep with.” I call the boys “bears,” and what do you do when he says something so cute. So I told Melissa I would come get him when he fell asleep. John was pretty jealous. I told him we would take turns.
Well, I get up a little bit later to go get Joe. John says, “If Joe is crying, bring him down here. If he isn't crying, let him stay there.” John did a good job of making it a special day for Joseph. Joseph woke up this morning, and remembered a good day: “Thank you for my power rangers and my raptor.”
Friday, August 04, 2006
Making Room
The boys don't make room, and I love them for that. When they sit next to you, they sit next to you. Or on you. At some point we grow up and we learn to make room. Maybe it's a good thing, but I'm not so sure. It seems vaguely tied up with isolation and making sure I keep what's mine.
Joseph's birthday is Saturday, and he is really pumped. The boys have had two birthdays while Melissa has been undergoing treatment. Like anything else you try to plan, there are pitfalls. How will she feel? Will there be some thing like going to the hospital to get in the way of the plans? More than anything, I want the boys to be able to stop and just be what we all want little kids to be: care-free.
I have been spending some time reading about Joseph, particularly in the New Testament. My fascination with him grew of course, because of our own Joseph. But also with an early church writer who said God chose Joseph to care for Jesus because He knew the devil was too vain to look in a humble place for the son of God! Matthew 1-3 is where you find Joseph. Go back and read it and be amazed by the man you've forgotten-- the one who heard from God quite a bit, took personal risks, and raised quite a boy. Tellingly for our age, Ignatius, an early church Father (early 2nd century) says that Joseph protected Jesus even in the womb, by still marrying Mary when she could have been stoned for being pregnant out of wedlock.
Joseph means "The Lord has added to" because He surely did increase our joy.
Melissa had a seizure yesterday in the clinic. A very difficult thing because she has not had one in 8 years, and not only did I obviously hope we could avoid it, we avoided when it seemed likely she would have one-- run-up to the transplant, changing her very successful anti-seizure med, etc. It revealed how much we're all on edge. We get generally good news about her progress. But a seizure crops up and my first thought was the radiation has fried her brain or the cancer has spread further in her brain and now they'll tell us, "Well, good fight, sorry about your luck."
The inevitable questions: why does she still have seizures? why didn't God stop it? why doe she have cancer? when will it be gone? will it be gone? Psalms are more important than ever right now.
Two years ago around this time, I was in California, and while there was scheduled to read Psalm 121-- so much to tell about that Psalm in that place! Today, I am scheduled to read Psalms 111-115. So I have stayed about on schedule; if you read 5 Psalms a day, you will get thru the book in 1 month, 12 times a year. If you can keep up this discipline consistently, it will do more than anything I know for your prayer life. It will increase your ability, desire, vocabulary, and (most important for our days) endurance for prayer.
Joseph's birthday is Saturday, and he is really pumped. The boys have had two birthdays while Melissa has been undergoing treatment. Like anything else you try to plan, there are pitfalls. How will she feel? Will there be some thing like going to the hospital to get in the way of the plans? More than anything, I want the boys to be able to stop and just be what we all want little kids to be: care-free.
I have been spending some time reading about Joseph, particularly in the New Testament. My fascination with him grew of course, because of our own Joseph. But also with an early church writer who said God chose Joseph to care for Jesus because He knew the devil was too vain to look in a humble place for the son of God! Matthew 1-3 is where you find Joseph. Go back and read it and be amazed by the man you've forgotten-- the one who heard from God quite a bit, took personal risks, and raised quite a boy. Tellingly for our age, Ignatius, an early church Father (early 2nd century) says that Joseph protected Jesus even in the womb, by still marrying Mary when she could have been stoned for being pregnant out of wedlock.
Joseph means "The Lord has added to" because He surely did increase our joy.
Melissa had a seizure yesterday in the clinic. A very difficult thing because she has not had one in 8 years, and not only did I obviously hope we could avoid it, we avoided when it seemed likely she would have one-- run-up to the transplant, changing her very successful anti-seizure med, etc. It revealed how much we're all on edge. We get generally good news about her progress. But a seizure crops up and my first thought was the radiation has fried her brain or the cancer has spread further in her brain and now they'll tell us, "Well, good fight, sorry about your luck."
The inevitable questions: why does she still have seizures? why didn't God stop it? why doe she have cancer? when will it be gone? will it be gone? Psalms are more important than ever right now.
Two years ago around this time, I was in California, and while there was scheduled to read Psalm 121-- so much to tell about that Psalm in that place! Today, I am scheduled to read Psalms 111-115. So I have stayed about on schedule; if you read 5 Psalms a day, you will get thru the book in 1 month, 12 times a year. If you can keep up this discipline consistently, it will do more than anything I know for your prayer life. It will increase your ability, desire, vocabulary, and (most important for our days) endurance for prayer.
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