How can this be the last day of September already? I am not ready! I think I am still somewhere back in July, having been robbed of summer by so much focus on fighting cancer.
Yet my Outlook calendar, my Blackberry calendar and my Liturgical calendar all say that today is indeed September 30th. I am extremely grateful to have made it safely this far. With the chemo done and this month in which to rest and gear up for the radiation forthcoming, I am encouraged.
Back when I had only a few more chemo treatments to go, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. But the tunnel is a little longer than I realized, as is true of all adventures where the light is never sufficient to see clearly what obstacles, roadblocks and turns may lie ahead.
For now, as I realize the time frame for recovery will stretch farther ahead than I initially imagined, I will simply let go of summer gracefully and embrace fall. I love the leaves and am planning several excursions to leafy areas to collect pretty ones for my grandchildren to enjoy. There's nothing like getting a letter that flutters red, yellow and orange leaves to the table upon opening!
Diary of a daughter, sister, mom, librarian, musician, Christian, cancer patient, writer, friend, . . .
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Low Flying Heron
It was long. It was brown. It flew right in front of my windshield as I was driving down Buffalo Road, completely blocking my view from one side of the car to the other! So surreal - the unexpected in slow motion and so close and clear I could see every feather. I wonder that I didn't hit the bird, especially since it happened so fast I never had time to even think about tapping the brakes.
I can't imagine what the heron was doing there by the church - there are corn fields, but no body of water. I always see heron standing with their elbows bent backwards near some small pond or drainage ditch or other water source. And usually I see blue heron, not brown ones.
A friend of mine at Roberts shares my intrigue of blue heron. I think my fascination with them began in Illinois, where I saw one up close for the first time in a park near our apartment. It stood proud and forlorn near the water's edge, not ruffled by the barking dogs or loud voices of children on their bikes. It had rather a condescending attitude towards everyone and everything, and nonchalantly flew off when it was good and ready.
I found and conducted a choral piece about the blue heron with Amasong. There is something about a bird the size of a person that makes you want to ascribe to them human characteristics and feelings, even though we know better.
Such solitary and lonely birds. I rarely see two together. And I have never seen a baby heron. All of which adds to the mystique. Today, the image of that single huge bird stretched from one side of my windshield to the other is emblazoned in my head. I am just thankful it didn't end up a hood ornament!
I can't imagine what the heron was doing there by the church - there are corn fields, but no body of water. I always see heron standing with their elbows bent backwards near some small pond or drainage ditch or other water source. And usually I see blue heron, not brown ones.
A friend of mine at Roberts shares my intrigue of blue heron. I think my fascination with them began in Illinois, where I saw one up close for the first time in a park near our apartment. It stood proud and forlorn near the water's edge, not ruffled by the barking dogs or loud voices of children on their bikes. It had rather a condescending attitude towards everyone and everything, and nonchalantly flew off when it was good and ready.
I found and conducted a choral piece about the blue heron with Amasong. There is something about a bird the size of a person that makes you want to ascribe to them human characteristics and feelings, even though we know better.
Such solitary and lonely birds. I rarely see two together. And I have never seen a baby heron. All of which adds to the mystique. Today, the image of that single huge bird stretched from one side of my windshield to the other is emblazoned in my head. I am just thankful it didn't end up a hood ornament!
Monday, September 28, 2009
The Comfort of Autumn Rain
Wearily I climb into bed, too tired to sleep, too restless, too worn out. The boys stay up quite late and get up quite early. I cannot keep such hours. My constitution is not up to twenty-first century hecticity (like my new word?).
Even Sugar keeps their hours, sleeping in the daytime so she can play when they are at their most energetic late at night. I flop from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position, a cool spot on my pillowcase, a restful posture. Someone shuts my bedroom door which I prefer to keep open for air circulation.
At once, I can hear the rain pattering outside my window, rustling leaves and slaking the thirst of the brown grass below. Such a comforting sound. Why is that? Perhaps simply knowing I am inside where it is warm and dry. Perhaps it is the musical pattern of the drops as they hit different surfaces. Perhaps it simply drowns out all other distraction.
What ever the reason, the lullaby of chilly fall rain soon settles me into a comfortable sleep filled with odd and peculiar dreams. I never even hear the boys put Sugar to bed.
Even Sugar keeps their hours, sleeping in the daytime so she can play when they are at their most energetic late at night. I flop from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position, a cool spot on my pillowcase, a restful posture. Someone shuts my bedroom door which I prefer to keep open for air circulation.
At once, I can hear the rain pattering outside my window, rustling leaves and slaking the thirst of the brown grass below. Such a comforting sound. Why is that? Perhaps simply knowing I am inside where it is warm and dry. Perhaps it is the musical pattern of the drops as they hit different surfaces. Perhaps it simply drowns out all other distraction.
What ever the reason, the lullaby of chilly fall rain soon settles me into a comfortable sleep filled with odd and peculiar dreams. I never even hear the boys put Sugar to bed.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Moping
I look in the bathroom mirror and wonder who is staring back at me. Surely this old woman with no hair and wrinkled skin plastered with brown old age spots cannot be me!
Yet I find myself often sitting slumped over like someone in their nineties, or walking at the excruciatingly slow pace of an ancient person. I have to be so careful of what I eat for fear I will not be able to digest it - the constitution of an old worn out bag! Not to mention the little "accidents" that sometimes creep up on me with no warning.
Its not fair that I should experience old age before I am old! Perhaps my frustration is a sign that I am feeling better and now have enough energy to want more out of life than old age. Still, you get a bit mopey thinking that you will be like this for the rest of your days. A bit like being in leg irons with a very short connecting chain.
That would be my impatience shining through again. I am done with chemo, so I should be able to just get back to normal routine and activity. The reality, of course, is that it will take several years to get back to whatever level of activity my new normal will allow.
Meanwhile, I smile at Drew as his long legs and youthful energy allow him to outwalk me in stores. He could walk circles around me. Instead, he finds creative ways to move at his own speed without leaving me behind. Its good not to be left behind. Sort of like I used to do when he was first learning to walk and I put hurry aside to enjoy baby steps.
Deep breath. This too shall improve.
Yet I find myself often sitting slumped over like someone in their nineties, or walking at the excruciatingly slow pace of an ancient person. I have to be so careful of what I eat for fear I will not be able to digest it - the constitution of an old worn out bag! Not to mention the little "accidents" that sometimes creep up on me with no warning.
Its not fair that I should experience old age before I am old! Perhaps my frustration is a sign that I am feeling better and now have enough energy to want more out of life than old age. Still, you get a bit mopey thinking that you will be like this for the rest of your days. A bit like being in leg irons with a very short connecting chain.
That would be my impatience shining through again. I am done with chemo, so I should be able to just get back to normal routine and activity. The reality, of course, is that it will take several years to get back to whatever level of activity my new normal will allow.
Meanwhile, I smile at Drew as his long legs and youthful energy allow him to outwalk me in stores. He could walk circles around me. Instead, he finds creative ways to move at his own speed without leaving me behind. Its good not to be left behind. Sort of like I used to do when he was first learning to walk and I put hurry aside to enjoy baby steps.
Deep breath. This too shall improve.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Mr. Mary's Auction Barn
Crisp fall days with cerulean blue skies are meant for being outdoors. Today is such a day - gorgeous blue overhead and a kiss of chill in the air that reminds you of tart apples and piles of colored leaves and pumpkins!
In my girlhood, just such days were sometimes spent out in the country at Mr.Mary's auction barn. The barn itself was no big deal. It was a bit decrepit and badly in need of fresh paint. But inside the barn all the excitement of a circus awaited eager young children lucky enough to be taken along.
We always made a day of it. Mom packed a lunch of sandwiches and chips and koolaid (in a red gallon thermos jug). We drove for what seemed hours out into the country side, finally pulling up behind countless others cars parked along the edge of the narrow country road.
People milled about everywhere, from the house and grounds to the barn, chatting and laughing and smoking up a storm. Mom took the babies and younger fry to some shady spot out of harm's way, and we older kids tagged along after Dad as he investigated just what was on the docket to be sold.
He poked through boxes of odds and ends of stuff, leftovers from someone's life that had gone awry or ended. You would find the most unlikely combinations of things all mixed together in the same "lot" as they were called. Kitchen utensils and books and tools and lamps. Nothing made sense about how they clumped things together.
Best fun of all was when the auction began. In the main part of the barn, seated on mismatched and dilapidated chairs, sat the interested parties as Mr. Mary took the "block" and began his strange auction lingo. Mr. Mary was a thin wizened little man who must have been born old. He smoked a stump of a cigar and sometimes chewing tobacco which every now and again he would spit.
I never could understand only about one word in ten, but his singsong catchy rhythms and pitches were spellbinding. It sort of sounded like "I got a dollar, got a dollar, got a dollar. I got a dollar who'll give me two?" said real fast with a lot of other mumbo jumbo mixed into it.
He would point his judge's gavel back and forth, first at one bidder, then another. A slight nod of the head or lift of a finger indicated a commitment to the asking price. How Mr. Mary knew what they meant was as much a mystery as how the bidders had any idea what Mr. Mary was saying!
As each item or lot came out, Mr. Mary would hold up one thing or another, make some small comment, and then begin the song while the bidders began to dance. It was fascinating. Tons of household goods would find new homes while managing not to embarrass the original owners in the least.
If I tired of watching the auction, the lawn provided equally as fascinating entertainment. People of all stations and occupations stood about chatting. Some bought food at the little concession stands, mostly coffee and doughnuts and cider and the like. Dad never bought food there as the price was too much to be reasonable. Whenever we got hungry, we scouted where Mom was and snagged a sandwich or apple.
All too soon it would be time to pack up our little lunch remnants and head for home. On good days, the back of our station wagon would cradle a box or two of miscellaneous stuff. On other days, we carried away with us only the memory of a great day spent in the wide autumn outdoors enjoying the best stuff life could offer.
I am sure by now Mr. Mary has long since passed the way of all humanity. I wonder though if his auction barn still stands and if someone - perhaps his son - may have taken up his gavel to carry on the tradition.
In my girlhood, just such days were sometimes spent out in the country at Mr.Mary's auction barn. The barn itself was no big deal. It was a bit decrepit and badly in need of fresh paint. But inside the barn all the excitement of a circus awaited eager young children lucky enough to be taken along.
We always made a day of it. Mom packed a lunch of sandwiches and chips and koolaid (in a red gallon thermos jug). We drove for what seemed hours out into the country side, finally pulling up behind countless others cars parked along the edge of the narrow country road.
People milled about everywhere, from the house and grounds to the barn, chatting and laughing and smoking up a storm. Mom took the babies and younger fry to some shady spot out of harm's way, and we older kids tagged along after Dad as he investigated just what was on the docket to be sold.
He poked through boxes of odds and ends of stuff, leftovers from someone's life that had gone awry or ended. You would find the most unlikely combinations of things all mixed together in the same "lot" as they were called. Kitchen utensils and books and tools and lamps. Nothing made sense about how they clumped things together.
Best fun of all was when the auction began. In the main part of the barn, seated on mismatched and dilapidated chairs, sat the interested parties as Mr. Mary took the "block" and began his strange auction lingo. Mr. Mary was a thin wizened little man who must have been born old. He smoked a stump of a cigar and sometimes chewing tobacco which every now and again he would spit.
I never could understand only about one word in ten, but his singsong catchy rhythms and pitches were spellbinding. It sort of sounded like "I got a dollar, got a dollar, got a dollar. I got a dollar who'll give me two?" said real fast with a lot of other mumbo jumbo mixed into it.
He would point his judge's gavel back and forth, first at one bidder, then another. A slight nod of the head or lift of a finger indicated a commitment to the asking price. How Mr. Mary knew what they meant was as much a mystery as how the bidders had any idea what Mr. Mary was saying!
As each item or lot came out, Mr. Mary would hold up one thing or another, make some small comment, and then begin the song while the bidders began to dance. It was fascinating. Tons of household goods would find new homes while managing not to embarrass the original owners in the least.
If I tired of watching the auction, the lawn provided equally as fascinating entertainment. People of all stations and occupations stood about chatting. Some bought food at the little concession stands, mostly coffee and doughnuts and cider and the like. Dad never bought food there as the price was too much to be reasonable. Whenever we got hungry, we scouted where Mom was and snagged a sandwich or apple.
All too soon it would be time to pack up our little lunch remnants and head for home. On good days, the back of our station wagon would cradle a box or two of miscellaneous stuff. On other days, we carried away with us only the memory of a great day spent in the wide autumn outdoors enjoying the best stuff life could offer.
I am sure by now Mr. Mary has long since passed the way of all humanity. I wonder though if his auction barn still stands and if someone - perhaps his son - may have taken up his gavel to carry on the tradition.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Missing Homecoming
Last year I set up a booksale table in the bazaar tent for homecoming at Roberts. What fun to meet the alumni coming through, to hear their stories, to watch them carefully sort through our carts of books and select some things to add to their home libraries!
I watched the parade wend its way through campus, wandered quickly through the other booths, chatted with faculty and students and parents and kids and enjoyed a piece of cake at the seminary table in celebration of ten years.
In the process, I managed to help weed out our overburdened back shelving and direct lost persons to places of interest.
This year I will miss it all. Crowds are still a no-no for me, not to mention that I do not have the stamina to last even through a morning of commotion. The booksale will only happen if others have time to set it up, and then only in the library and not in the tent. Sigh.
It has been the same with other events like not going to Mom's birthday and missing weddings and celebrations and parties. I keep telling myself that there will be other opportunities, that next year I will be able to go. And I know that's so. Still, it's hard to sit home and twiddle your thumbs (or nap) when exciting activities are afoot!
I watched the parade wend its way through campus, wandered quickly through the other booths, chatted with faculty and students and parents and kids and enjoyed a piece of cake at the seminary table in celebration of ten years.
In the process, I managed to help weed out our overburdened back shelving and direct lost persons to places of interest.
This year I will miss it all. Crowds are still a no-no for me, not to mention that I do not have the stamina to last even through a morning of commotion. The booksale will only happen if others have time to set it up, and then only in the library and not in the tent. Sigh.
It has been the same with other events like not going to Mom's birthday and missing weddings and celebrations and parties. I keep telling myself that there will be other opportunities, that next year I will be able to go. And I know that's so. Still, it's hard to sit home and twiddle your thumbs (or nap) when exciting activities are afoot!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Gaggle of Geese
On the north side of Buffalo Road, just past the dance studio and art gallery, lies a now-harvested corn field. There is no longer any hint of the tall green stalks. Only three inch brown stubs dot the rich earth.
This morning the field was completely blanketed with geese scrounging up breakfast. There must have been hundreds of big gray and black birds pecking in the dirt for grubs and wriggling bugs and leftover corn kernels.
They made no sound at all. If you didn't look close, you wouldn't realize that they were there, so ghost-like was their nature. There was no flying about even in short hops, no arguing for ownership of some tasty morsel, no strutting or wing flapping. They simply stood silently, heads down, busy about the business of harvesting their own feast.
Rather reminded me of a room filled with students taking a test upon which the entire course grade depended. Serious business. I wonder how long the geese will hang around fattening themselves against the cold of winter before they migrate further south.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A Spark
Today I had a glimpse of my old self for the first time in months. I actually did stuff in the morning, managed to accomplish about five things on my mental non-list, then attended a staff meeting at the library for an hour and a half and afterwards met with the Operations Manager at the library to begin catching up!
I was amazed when she mentioned that it was almost 5 pm! I had remained active all day without the usual dead battery syndrome. How amazing is that???
Best of all, I found myself planning ahead, thinking about future projects and life beyond cancer. How refreshing to feel like I am back in the game as a player, not limping along on the sidelines.
Well, I know I have a ways to go before that becomes the rule and not the exception. But it sure felt good!
I was amazed when she mentioned that it was almost 5 pm! I had remained active all day without the usual dead battery syndrome. How amazing is that???
Best of all, I found myself planning ahead, thinking about future projects and life beyond cancer. How refreshing to feel like I am back in the game as a player, not limping along on the sidelines.
Well, I know I have a ways to go before that becomes the rule and not the exception. But it sure felt good!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Spread of Grace
Remember that bush with the one white flower among a million purple ones? Today I was surprised to find a couple of "half-breed" flowers, partially white and partially purple - of the blue variety of purple. How interesting! Grace is spreading.
Many good things are catching. Smiles. Kind words. Positive outlooks. We fuss so much about not spreading things like the flu - at the library there are containers of hand sanitizer everywhere, signs in the bathrooms reminding us to wash our hands, blurbs in the weekly newsletters instructing us how to behave when we do get sick.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had the same multi point campaign to spread goodwill? Mirrors posted in convenient places reminding us to smile. Signs in the bathroom instructing us to use clean and encouraging words when we speak to each other. Blurbs in the weekly newsletters bragging about people who did kind deeds.
Seems like it should work to spread things we value equally as well as it stops unwanted behaviors, don't ya think?
Many good things are catching. Smiles. Kind words. Positive outlooks. We fuss so much about not spreading things like the flu - at the library there are containers of hand sanitizer everywhere, signs in the bathrooms reminding us to wash our hands, blurbs in the weekly newsletters instructing us how to behave when we do get sick.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had the same multi point campaign to spread goodwill? Mirrors posted in convenient places reminding us to smile. Signs in the bathroom instructing us to use clean and encouraging words when we speak to each other. Blurbs in the weekly newsletters bragging about people who did kind deeds.
Seems like it should work to spread things we value equally as well as it stops unwanted behaviors, don't ya think?
Monday, September 21, 2009
Test Results
Port draw, 8:45 am. Dr appt. 10:30 am. Today I will get the results of the bone marrow biopsy and CT scan. I wait in the infusion center for over an hour while they work on another woman.
I listen to her chat about how she used to take such good care of her son and her four horses, and now her husband has to do it. I realize again how fortunate I am that I haven't a huge house full of young children and heavy work responsibilities that someone else has to take on. They finally are able to find a spot for her shot.
After the port draw (piece of cake) I get an unsweetened ice tea, listen to the player piano and wait for a half hour until my appointment time rolls around. I am eager to hear the results of all the chemo work. The doctor is more concerned with the upcoming Bexxar treatments, and worries that the allergist has not answered all the questions about the iodine.
She asks the nurse to check with the pharmacology doctor, and he admits he has no immediate answer. He has never encountered this problem before. It will require some investigation. Meanwhile, the doctor listens to my lungs and tells me that the nurse will instruct me about the treatment coming in October.
I also need a flu shot now because the Bexxar will again cause my immune system to bottom out for a few weeks - ow. She is wrapping things up and I ask about the test results.
"Oh, yes, of course. I meant to show you that for sure," she responded. She pulls it up on the computer. The lymph glands have SHRUNK to almost normal size, and the counts show almost no sign of the cancer. NORMAL range. YEAHHHH!!!!! Great progress.
Later, the nurse calls me at home with the pharmacologist's answer. His research shows that the IV dye is oil based and most people are allergic to the oil, not the iodine.
The allergist already told us that the shellfish allergy is not related because the allergies most people have are related to a protein in the shellfish. I should be able to tolerate the potassium iodide that I need to take to protect my thyroid (I have to take it for a few weeks), and I should be able to tolerate the radiation iodide also.
New light. It's still a bit shaky to trust that my allergies fall into the "most people" category. If not, they have ways of dealing with it. Sigh. Fortunately, the initial test dose is very weak. If anything goes awry, at least it won't be as difficult to fix. Two more weeks until the test dose. Pray hard.
I listen to her chat about how she used to take such good care of her son and her four horses, and now her husband has to do it. I realize again how fortunate I am that I haven't a huge house full of young children and heavy work responsibilities that someone else has to take on. They finally are able to find a spot for her shot.
After the port draw (piece of cake) I get an unsweetened ice tea, listen to the player piano and wait for a half hour until my appointment time rolls around. I am eager to hear the results of all the chemo work. The doctor is more concerned with the upcoming Bexxar treatments, and worries that the allergist has not answered all the questions about the iodine.
She asks the nurse to check with the pharmacology doctor, and he admits he has no immediate answer. He has never encountered this problem before. It will require some investigation. Meanwhile, the doctor listens to my lungs and tells me that the nurse will instruct me about the treatment coming in October.
I also need a flu shot now because the Bexxar will again cause my immune system to bottom out for a few weeks - ow. She is wrapping things up and I ask about the test results.
"Oh, yes, of course. I meant to show you that for sure," she responded. She pulls it up on the computer. The lymph glands have SHRUNK to almost normal size, and the counts show almost no sign of the cancer. NORMAL range. YEAHHHH!!!!! Great progress.
Later, the nurse calls me at home with the pharmacologist's answer. His research shows that the IV dye is oil based and most people are allergic to the oil, not the iodine.
The allergist already told us that the shellfish allergy is not related because the allergies most people have are related to a protein in the shellfish. I should be able to tolerate the potassium iodide that I need to take to protect my thyroid (I have to take it for a few weeks), and I should be able to tolerate the radiation iodide also.
New light. It's still a bit shaky to trust that my allergies fall into the "most people" category. If not, they have ways of dealing with it. Sigh. Fortunately, the initial test dose is very weak. If anything goes awry, at least it won't be as difficult to fix. Two more weeks until the test dose. Pray hard.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Flaky Fingers and Floppy Feet
I wondered whether yesterday's field trip would make me tired today, but I am delighted to find that, other than a bit of stiff leg muscles, I am OK. Puzzling, I discover that my fingers feel like sandpaper. What's up with that? I slather on some lotion and head for church. Music today!!!
Ten minutes later, my fingers are white and rough again. I know I have been washing my hands a lot lately, but then, I have been washing my hands a lot for months. I recall that my lips have been chapped and peeling as well. I keep putting chapstick on, but the skin just peels away. Sometimes they are even a bit raw. I wonder briefly if this might be an after effect of the chemo, slather on more lotion, and keep going.
I also notice that I am experiencing "floppy foot" syndrome. That's where you go to take a step, and even though your brain sends your foot a message to pick up the toes in preparation for moving forward, the muscles for the toes rebel and refuse to cooperate. You end up dragging you foot just a mite. I had so much foot and leg neuropathy (numbness and tingling) that its a wonder I haven't ended up with huge bouts of immobility!
Just little reminders that although the chemo may be done, the effects may take awhile to go away. Minor nuisances, to be sure.
Ten minutes later, my fingers are white and rough again. I know I have been washing my hands a lot lately, but then, I have been washing my hands a lot for months. I recall that my lips have been chapped and peeling as well. I keep putting chapstick on, but the skin just peels away. Sometimes they are even a bit raw. I wonder briefly if this might be an after effect of the chemo, slather on more lotion, and keep going.
I also notice that I am experiencing "floppy foot" syndrome. That's where you go to take a step, and even though your brain sends your foot a message to pick up the toes in preparation for moving forward, the muscles for the toes rebel and refuse to cooperate. You end up dragging you foot just a mite. I had so much foot and leg neuropathy (numbness and tingling) that its a wonder I haven't ended up with huge bouts of immobility!
Just little reminders that although the chemo may be done, the effects may take awhile to go away. Minor nuisances, to be sure.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Celebratory Reprieve
I felt a bit out of whack with no idea why until my friend emailed me and suggested we celebrate the successful end of chemo with a girls day out. Of course! Though the boys and I had a mini-celebration via a steak dinner, I had not truly CELEBRATED the end of the regimen.
She suggested we take a short trip to her cabin on Lake Wanetka, a "fingernail" lake near Keuka Lake. Her cabin sits right on the lake and I would be able to rest there as long as I needed. We could either pack a picnic lunch or stop at one of the little Amish shops along the way and pick something up.
It sounded perfect - just getting out of the apartment had huge appeal. The day dawned picturesque with azure skies and just a bit of chill in the air, a promise of fall. We started out around 9am with no agenda, just looking to enjoy the world in celebration of survival.
What fun we had stopping at the overlooks and walking out the Long Pier to take pictures. We ambled through a small Amish stop crammed with every imaginable home made item you could ever want - quilts and jellies and pickled things (even asparagus!), spices and girls' dresses and hand made toys. I picked up some red popcorn - my friend tells me it has a distinctive flavor - but left the blue popcorn for another time.
We stopped a second time at a place called The Windmill, an open air market with all sorts of wares, Amish and beyond. There, for the first time ever, I experienced the joy of butterflyed potatoes! Miraculous one piece of spiral cut potato deep fried to a delicate crunch. It filled an entire paper plate a good six inches deep. We topped it off with frozen custard that was very flavorful and delicious - chocolate for me, vanilla for my friend.
While we were waiting for the butterflyed potatoes, I wandered up one side of the street and back on the other. I didn't go into any of the shops or tents, and stayed away from the crowded areas. Even from my limited vantage point I could see all kinds of creative and unique gifts. When I am better, I definitely want to return and explore. Turns out they are open every Saturday until Christmas!
I sat on a bench while my friend investigated getting a gift for her husband's upcoming birthday. What a delight to watch people, be part of life again! I caught snatches of conversations (you said what to her? No wonder she is so mad; well, I just can't make up my mind whether to go to the community college first or not; the judge threw the whole thing out. i didn't even get to say anything. it was a rip off). What a treat after so many weeks of isolation.
The best part of the day was napping at the cabin. I curled up on a wicker divan on the screened in porch and sighed contentedly. I could hear water playfully slap the bottoms of the moored boats with every passing wake. Leaves rustled cheerfully as the breeze swept across a set of hanging chimes in the side yard. Boat motors droned in the distance like a neighbor's lawn mower. Somewhere nearby a flag snapped in the wind.
Ah, the sounds of a lazy summer day! Like all good lullabies, it entices you to sleep before you realize it. Memories of other lakeside experiences parade through your dreams as the cool air caresses your cheeks. Well rested, I awoke to the antics of a chipmunk family scampering across the yard.
We munched on juicy melon from Mr. Zimmerman's farm and crackers with Amish butter cheese from the little Amish shop as we watched the boats drift past, some trolling for fish, some just enjoying the water, one boat pulling a water skier (brrr). The sun gradually drifted downward until we found ourselves in shade, and finally we retreated indoors to finish out our perfect day.
The men came to take the boats out for the season and pull the docks from their watery anchors, and we headed for one last vantage point to watch the sun sink behind the "y" in the lake. Everywhere log cabins were hunkering down for the night as we turned homeward, relaxed and refreshed. What a great way to mark the end of chemo and the beginning of gaining ground to better health.
I have the most amazing and thoughtful friends, do I not?
She suggested we take a short trip to her cabin on Lake Wanetka, a "fingernail" lake near Keuka Lake. Her cabin sits right on the lake and I would be able to rest there as long as I needed. We could either pack a picnic lunch or stop at one of the little Amish shops along the way and pick something up.
It sounded perfect - just getting out of the apartment had huge appeal. The day dawned picturesque with azure skies and just a bit of chill in the air, a promise of fall. We started out around 9am with no agenda, just looking to enjoy the world in celebration of survival.
What fun we had stopping at the overlooks and walking out the Long Pier to take pictures. We ambled through a small Amish stop crammed with every imaginable home made item you could ever want - quilts and jellies and pickled things (even asparagus!), spices and girls' dresses and hand made toys. I picked up some red popcorn - my friend tells me it has a distinctive flavor - but left the blue popcorn for another time.
We stopped a second time at a place called The Windmill, an open air market with all sorts of wares, Amish and beyond. There, for the first time ever, I experienced the joy of butterflyed potatoes! Miraculous one piece of spiral cut potato deep fried to a delicate crunch. It filled an entire paper plate a good six inches deep. We topped it off with frozen custard that was very flavorful and delicious - chocolate for me, vanilla for my friend.
While we were waiting for the butterflyed potatoes, I wandered up one side of the street and back on the other. I didn't go into any of the shops or tents, and stayed away from the crowded areas. Even from my limited vantage point I could see all kinds of creative and unique gifts. When I am better, I definitely want to return and explore. Turns out they are open every Saturday until Christmas!
I sat on a bench while my friend investigated getting a gift for her husband's upcoming birthday. What a delight to watch people, be part of life again! I caught snatches of conversations (you said what to her? No wonder she is so mad; well, I just can't make up my mind whether to go to the community college first or not; the judge threw the whole thing out. i didn't even get to say anything. it was a rip off). What a treat after so many weeks of isolation.
The best part of the day was napping at the cabin. I curled up on a wicker divan on the screened in porch and sighed contentedly. I could hear water playfully slap the bottoms of the moored boats with every passing wake. Leaves rustled cheerfully as the breeze swept across a set of hanging chimes in the side yard. Boat motors droned in the distance like a neighbor's lawn mower. Somewhere nearby a flag snapped in the wind.
Ah, the sounds of a lazy summer day! Like all good lullabies, it entices you to sleep before you realize it. Memories of other lakeside experiences parade through your dreams as the cool air caresses your cheeks. Well rested, I awoke to the antics of a chipmunk family scampering across the yard.
We munched on juicy melon from Mr. Zimmerman's farm and crackers with Amish butter cheese from the little Amish shop as we watched the boats drift past, some trolling for fish, some just enjoying the water, one boat pulling a water skier (brrr). The sun gradually drifted downward until we found ourselves in shade, and finally we retreated indoors to finish out our perfect day.
The men came to take the boats out for the season and pull the docks from their watery anchors, and we headed for one last vantage point to watch the sun sink behind the "y" in the lake. Everywhere log cabins were hunkering down for the night as we turned homeward, relaxed and refreshed. What a great way to mark the end of chemo and the beginning of gaining ground to better health.
I have the most amazing and thoughtful friends, do I not?
Friday, September 18, 2009
Barbie Dolls
Lately, to keep in touch and to help think about how to handle things at work, library staff have been coming to my house for lunch. I love to see them and catch up on library events.
Today, I was blessed to have the three and a half year old daughter of one of the staff members accompany her Mom. She brought a blue bag of toys to keep herself occupied while her Mom and I chatted and nibbled sandwiches.
She showed me her toys - numerous dolls including four Barbie dolls. Wow! I haven't played with Barbie dolls in decades. The face is the same, as is the physique. But the clothes have certainly changed. Her dolls were all dressed as Disney characters - Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, etc.
She also had some smaller dolls including a few mermaids and a couple of MacDonald prize dolls. How fun it was to see the care with which she treated each doll. I thought of my own grand daughters and wondered if they carry around satchels filled with dolls and dreams and beautiful clothes.
It is such a unique world, the world of little girls. When I was a child, I had all the Barbie stuff including outfits my Mother sewed. The Barbie dreamhouse was my favorite place to hang out on a Saturday morning, pretending little scenarios for Barbie and Ken and Midge etal to act out. What a happy couple living in the perfect house having so many good times together, with rarely a cross word between them.
Too bad life does not always follow those scripts! Perhaps that's why Barbie has moved into the world of cartoon movies where the ending is always happy and the right guy gets the right girl!
The good thing is that real life has much more to offer despite the occasional bump in the road. I'd rather be a bit banged up real person than a perfect plastic one. Still, I enjoyed watching my young visitor play with her Barbies. Ah, the memories!
Today, I was blessed to have the three and a half year old daughter of one of the staff members accompany her Mom. She brought a blue bag of toys to keep herself occupied while her Mom and I chatted and nibbled sandwiches.
She showed me her toys - numerous dolls including four Barbie dolls. Wow! I haven't played with Barbie dolls in decades. The face is the same, as is the physique. But the clothes have certainly changed. Her dolls were all dressed as Disney characters - Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, etc.
She also had some smaller dolls including a few mermaids and a couple of MacDonald prize dolls. How fun it was to see the care with which she treated each doll. I thought of my own grand daughters and wondered if they carry around satchels filled with dolls and dreams and beautiful clothes.
It is such a unique world, the world of little girls. When I was a child, I had all the Barbie stuff including outfits my Mother sewed. The Barbie dreamhouse was my favorite place to hang out on a Saturday morning, pretending little scenarios for Barbie and Ken and Midge etal to act out. What a happy couple living in the perfect house having so many good times together, with rarely a cross word between them.
Too bad life does not always follow those scripts! Perhaps that's why Barbie has moved into the world of cartoon movies where the ending is always happy and the right guy gets the right girl!
The good thing is that real life has much more to offer despite the occasional bump in the road. I'd rather be a bit banged up real person than a perfect plastic one. Still, I enjoyed watching my young visitor play with her Barbies. Ah, the memories!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Private Show
Every year for over thirty years, our church holds a quilt and needlework expo. People put their handiwork on display for others to see. Last year, I put Mom's and Gram's handiwork in the show. Many people mentioned seeing their quilts. The one Mom made using cookie cutters for patterns was popular.
Setting such an event up takes a great deal of time and effort. It means that choir rehearsal the night before the event begins is confined to the sanctuary where every pew is covered with cuddle quilts that are donated to children undergoing medical difficulties. The quilts are beautiful.
After rehearsal, one of the event coordinators offered to show me the rest of the displays - a private showing since I can not attend the full event with so many people there. As I wandered through room after room and down the hallway, I was amazed at the variety of designs and colors, at the delicate stitching and tiny little crochet patterns. The fellowship hall was a veritable treasure trove of floor to ceiling quilts hanging proudly on specially designed racks.
Some of the needlework had beading, some of the quilts had hand stitching of designs. All of the entries were beautiful and represented hours and hours of labor - true masterpieces. This year the colors were remarkable - deep purples, royal blues, vibrant reds.
I was torn between standing and admiring and keeping on moving because I wanted to see everything before I ran out of steam. How proud each recipient of these wonderful works must be to cover their sleeping place with warm and gorgeous quilts or to hang extravagant needlework on the walls in their abodes.
The people who created these masterpieces are artisans for sure. I was delighted to have a safe viewing and went home with my heart full of joy at being able to see so many works of love.
Setting such an event up takes a great deal of time and effort. It means that choir rehearsal the night before the event begins is confined to the sanctuary where every pew is covered with cuddle quilts that are donated to children undergoing medical difficulties. The quilts are beautiful.
After rehearsal, one of the event coordinators offered to show me the rest of the displays - a private showing since I can not attend the full event with so many people there. As I wandered through room after room and down the hallway, I was amazed at the variety of designs and colors, at the delicate stitching and tiny little crochet patterns. The fellowship hall was a veritable treasure trove of floor to ceiling quilts hanging proudly on specially designed racks.
Some of the needlework had beading, some of the quilts had hand stitching of designs. All of the entries were beautiful and represented hours and hours of labor - true masterpieces. This year the colors were remarkable - deep purples, royal blues, vibrant reds.
I was torn between standing and admiring and keeping on moving because I wanted to see everything before I ran out of steam. How proud each recipient of these wonderful works must be to cover their sleeping place with warm and gorgeous quilts or to hang extravagant needlework on the walls in their abodes.
The people who created these masterpieces are artisans for sure. I was delighted to have a safe viewing and went home with my heart full of joy at being able to see so many works of love.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
No Lists
When I had chemobrain after the treatment for the rectal cancer, I found that a good strategy to help me function better was to make lists. That way, when my brain went into chemo mode, I would have something tangible to keep me on track.
Of course, chemofog didn't really come to my attention until after all the dust settled and I was back to work. That's when I found myself sitting at my desk staring at piles of paperwork, and knowing what I needed to do with each stack, but unable to figure out how to begin.
And multitasking was a thing of the past. I saved highly repetitive "scut" work to do on the worst days. Much easier to handle when your brain is on tilt.
This time, even though I am not completely done with treatment, I find two things happening. One is a frustrating little quirk where I know the name of something but can't quite say the word. Brain is fine, mouth is refusing to cooperate. So far it doesn't happen often. Let's hope it stays that way.
The other difficulty I am encountering is that making lists makes me angry. Turns out I don't need the lists because of chemofog, at least not yet, but I know full well that I will only have the energy to accomplish one thing. If I see a whole list of stuff that I need to do, it depresses me. I know I will not get things done, no matter whether I want to or not.
So I keep the list in my head without looking at it, and when morning dawns and I have the stamina, I start with the most pressing need (usually pretty obvious) and get that done, then rest a bit. When energy returns, I do the next most pressing thing. Far from ideal, but it works. Once in awhile something falls through the cracks, but for the most part, I get the important things taken care of.
Every chemo requires different strategies. Someone should write them down. I'll put it on my non-list.
Of course, chemofog didn't really come to my attention until after all the dust settled and I was back to work. That's when I found myself sitting at my desk staring at piles of paperwork, and knowing what I needed to do with each stack, but unable to figure out how to begin.
And multitasking was a thing of the past. I saved highly repetitive "scut" work to do on the worst days. Much easier to handle when your brain is on tilt.
This time, even though I am not completely done with treatment, I find two things happening. One is a frustrating little quirk where I know the name of something but can't quite say the word. Brain is fine, mouth is refusing to cooperate. So far it doesn't happen often. Let's hope it stays that way.
The other difficulty I am encountering is that making lists makes me angry. Turns out I don't need the lists because of chemofog, at least not yet, but I know full well that I will only have the energy to accomplish one thing. If I see a whole list of stuff that I need to do, it depresses me. I know I will not get things done, no matter whether I want to or not.
So I keep the list in my head without looking at it, and when morning dawns and I have the stamina, I start with the most pressing need (usually pretty obvious) and get that done, then rest a bit. When energy returns, I do the next most pressing thing. Far from ideal, but it works. Once in awhile something falls through the cracks, but for the most part, I get the important things taken care of.
Every chemo requires different strategies. Someone should write them down. I'll put it on my non-list.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
CT Scan
The receptionist called me ahead of time to remind me of my CT scan appointment, and told me that since I don't get any kind of contrast, I could actually come later. Though I was having a full body scan, it wouldn't take very long. I am used to these scans now, so I head out on my own.
The radiologist doesn't remember me, but I remember him. Last time I joked that we had to stop meeting this way (I was in every month). He had laughed. But I haven't been in since the chemo began, and I am just another face to him now. He is his usual pleasant self, and I am called back immediately and helped up on the machine.
I already know not to wear anything with metal - no zippers, bra hooks, grommets, etc. I slide my shoes off and scootch myself into position. The assistant, a lovely woman named Ann, puts a foam prop under my legs and straps me in. I slide in and out of the whirling donut five times - hold your breath . . . . . breathe!
I am done. The results will be ready when next I see Dr. Young on the 22nd. I decide to treat myself to lunch at Panera's, even though this was not painful or draining. A sort of "make=up" lunch for the times when I did have yucky stuff but couldn't eat. Ah, nice. Now if I can just be patient until next week!
The radiologist doesn't remember me, but I remember him. Last time I joked that we had to stop meeting this way (I was in every month). He had laughed. But I haven't been in since the chemo began, and I am just another face to him now. He is his usual pleasant self, and I am called back immediately and helped up on the machine.
I already know not to wear anything with metal - no zippers, bra hooks, grommets, etc. I slide my shoes off and scootch myself into position. The assistant, a lovely woman named Ann, puts a foam prop under my legs and straps me in. I slide in and out of the whirling donut five times - hold your breath . . . . . breathe!
I am done. The results will be ready when next I see Dr. Young on the 22nd. I decide to treat myself to lunch at Panera's, even though this was not painful or draining. A sort of "make=up" lunch for the times when I did have yucky stuff but couldn't eat. Ah, nice. Now if I can just be patient until next week!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Happy Birthday Mom
This year my Mom celebrates the big 80 - quite a milestone! My sisters decided to make an occasion of it, and they wanted everyone to travel to Lake George and be there to help celebrate. Man, I wanted to go so much. I tried to think how I could manage to do it.
My sister who lives in Rochester would be driving out and I could lie down in her van, then go right to a hotel room and regain my strength for when they would go to the restaurant. But what if I began to run a temperature? No doctor out there would know my history or recognize the importance of dealing with issues immediately, etc.
No, it was too risky. Still, when my sister called again, I thought about it seriously, going over and over in my mind all the things that might make me able to undertake such a demanding trip.
I could ask the doctor if there was some magic Vitamin B shot she could give me that would get me through such a weekend. But after my fiasco with low counts and all, I ended up not asking. Besides, my friend who is a nurse, laughed at the idea of a magic shot. Dream on.
I myself doubted that I could handle a four hour drive. I was pretty sure that would do me in. So I reluctantly admitted that I just wasn't able to go, as much as I would have liked to. Mom's celebration this year would be filled with lots of kids visiting, and I would just have to call from afar. Swallow disappointment and be good. There will be lots of other birthdays to help celebrate.
Mom did indeed have a wonderful time. She told me all about it on the phone later. They took her to her favorite restaurant, the Log Jam, where she had a hot roast turkey sandwich and a fancy cake with everyone singing to her. Dad took her to Barnes and Noble where she picked out what she wanted, and she sounded very happy for which I was glad.
I have had to forego many activities this fall. I feel a bit frustrated that I am not back in the swing of things yet, but I recognize that recovery takes more time than treatment. After all, with Noah and the ark, it only rained for 40 days, but they stayed in the ark over a year before it was safe to come out.
For me, its still drizzling. I will not be into recovery mode until after the radiation in October. There will be other, better years when I can do things. For now, I shall be content to participate in what I can and live the rest vicariously through reports from others. That works. That works just fine for now. And I am happy to hear the reports.
My sister who lives in Rochester would be driving out and I could lie down in her van, then go right to a hotel room and regain my strength for when they would go to the restaurant. But what if I began to run a temperature? No doctor out there would know my history or recognize the importance of dealing with issues immediately, etc.
No, it was too risky. Still, when my sister called again, I thought about it seriously, going over and over in my mind all the things that might make me able to undertake such a demanding trip.
I could ask the doctor if there was some magic Vitamin B shot she could give me that would get me through such a weekend. But after my fiasco with low counts and all, I ended up not asking. Besides, my friend who is a nurse, laughed at the idea of a magic shot. Dream on.
I myself doubted that I could handle a four hour drive. I was pretty sure that would do me in. So I reluctantly admitted that I just wasn't able to go, as much as I would have liked to. Mom's celebration this year would be filled with lots of kids visiting, and I would just have to call from afar. Swallow disappointment and be good. There will be lots of other birthdays to help celebrate.
Mom did indeed have a wonderful time. She told me all about it on the phone later. They took her to her favorite restaurant, the Log Jam, where she had a hot roast turkey sandwich and a fancy cake with everyone singing to her. Dad took her to Barnes and Noble where she picked out what she wanted, and she sounded very happy for which I was glad.
I have had to forego many activities this fall. I feel a bit frustrated that I am not back in the swing of things yet, but I recognize that recovery takes more time than treatment. After all, with Noah and the ark, it only rained for 40 days, but they stayed in the ark over a year before it was safe to come out.
For me, its still drizzling. I will not be into recovery mode until after the radiation in October. There will be other, better years when I can do things. For now, I shall be content to participate in what I can and live the rest vicariously through reports from others. That works. That works just fine for now. And I am happy to hear the reports.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
First Sunday Back
I wasn't sure if I would have the stamina to get through the whole service, but figured if I had to leave early, I would. I arrived a bit early to take a last look at the scores for the day and set up a chair and low stand in the rehearsal room so I could sit.
People began trickling in, chatting, finding their robes and folders, coffee mug in hand. We warmed up vocally a bit and sang the benediction first - in rehearsal you can switch the order and nobody gets frazzled. Then we worked on the anthem. First, the challenging part, then the ending, then from the beginning. We fixed a few places that were a bit bumpy, and before I realized it, it was time to line up.
After a quick trip to the ladies room, I shut off the lights in the rehearsal space and we entered the sanctuary, ready for worship. By God's grace, I had plenty of strength for the whole service and a meeting of chime players afterward. I was so happy to be back, to be involved in music and praise, to be with friends.
Best of all, when I got home, I had enough energy left to do the dishes! I think I am gaining ground.
People began trickling in, chatting, finding their robes and folders, coffee mug in hand. We warmed up vocally a bit and sang the benediction first - in rehearsal you can switch the order and nobody gets frazzled. Then we worked on the anthem. First, the challenging part, then the ending, then from the beginning. We fixed a few places that were a bit bumpy, and before I realized it, it was time to line up.
After a quick trip to the ladies room, I shut off the lights in the rehearsal space and we entered the sanctuary, ready for worship. By God's grace, I had plenty of strength for the whole service and a meeting of chime players afterward. I was so happy to be back, to be involved in music and praise, to be with friends.
Best of all, when I got home, I had enough energy left to do the dishes! I think I am gaining ground.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Christmas Shopping
It's amazing how many things you can find online. I have had a wonderful time looking for presents for my grandchildren (Kelly, Katie, and Ramses are all under the age of 5). I have been frustrated for awhile with the lack of non-electronic toys in the local stores. Aisle after aisle of "turn it on and be entertained" gadgets - and very expensive!
Whatever happened to good old fashioned hands-on toys like blocks and kitchen sets and dolls?? Would you believe I could not find a single set of blocks in any of the stores around here including the toy stores? How peculiar.
Online, though, you can find just about anything - if you are willing to pay the price. With a bit of savvy, you can find what you want at the most reasonable price, request delivery to a local store so you don't have to pay postage, and just pick it up at your convenience.
I have been slowly whittling away at my list, starting with the grandkids because they are so much fun to shop for. Then on to my own boys. Now I just have to figure out where to hide things until December!
I love Christmas shopping! I've been at it a long time - a good 45 years. You would think I would be a super expert by now, but its the same old story. You ask people what they want, and they rarely ever know. Or they know, but its something you can't afford (Drew always asks for an expensive electronic game like Wii). You are left with racking your brain to come up with something they will love.
Some people are easy to buy for - they have hobbies or collections or interests that you can augment. Others are enigmas. They aren't really into anything in particular, and don't get excited about much of anything. The secret is knowing the person and really listening to their occasional comments.
I started earning money when I was around 12. I cleaned for neighbors, did babysitting, and worked at summer camps. The income was decent despite the going rate of 50 cents per hour. I liked the ladies I cleaned for, though I hated ironing which I had to do often - and with old fashioned starch on everything from cloth handkerchiefs to sheets and pillow cases to boxer shorts.
Besides buying stuff we didn't get at home - a sub and a Coke from a local deli being one of my favorites - I would find some household item for my "dowry" and was slowly filling a chest with linens and china. I had selected a blue willow pattern of china and was purchasing a set for four one piece at a time!
Best of all, I had money to buy Christmas presents. At the time, there were only 6 kids at home, and Mom and Dad. I would scour the little stores on Main Street in Johnstown for the perfect gifts. There was Gould's Department Store, a Five and Ten Cent Store, a Jewelers and a furniture store among others.
Mom was easy - a bottle of Heaven scent perfume. Pricey but well worth it. Dad required a bit more thinking, but it was always safe to get him a tie or a tool.
My brothers and sisters were more challenging. Sometimes I hit the mark and their faces would shine when they opened my gift. Other times they would politely say thank you, but set it aside. Not the right thing.
It hasn't gotten any easier, still, I love Christmas shopping. Its so much fun to guess what will make someone's face glow with joy. And right now, its wonderful to think about making other people happy.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Old Movies
Yesterday took a lot out of me. Besides the choir practice, I had an appointment with my primary care doctor to check on the blood pressure issues. I am doing acceptably with that for now, and she will not meddle until after the cancer care is done.
Too bad there were two things on the same day. I try to avoid that if possible. But I thought I managed fine, and although I was tired last night after rehearsal, it was nothing overwhelming.
Today is another story. I am indeed tired. I decided to sleep in (you KNOW I must be tired if I don't get up until after 9am), and not go anywhere. I had borrowed some old movies from the library for the weekend, but decided to watch them today - stuff like the Maltese Falcon with Humphrey Bogart and the Grand Hotel with Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford.
I don't usually go for the older movies, but it was kind of refreshing to see the clothing styles and the ancient cars and the rather awkward cinematography. A sort of throw back to a slower, gentler era.
I vegged all day waiting for the boys to come home. They stirred up a bit of action for an hour or so before they were off to their evening activities. I went back to my old movies for a bit before retiring. Tomorrow will be better I am sure. At least I managed to care for Sugar in between stories!
Too bad there were two things on the same day. I try to avoid that if possible. But I thought I managed fine, and although I was tired last night after rehearsal, it was nothing overwhelming.
Today is another story. I am indeed tired. I decided to sleep in (you KNOW I must be tired if I don't get up until after 9am), and not go anywhere. I had borrowed some old movies from the library for the weekend, but decided to watch them today - stuff like the Maltese Falcon with Humphrey Bogart and the Grand Hotel with Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford.
I don't usually go for the older movies, but it was kind of refreshing to see the clothing styles and the ancient cars and the rather awkward cinematography. A sort of throw back to a slower, gentler era.
I vegged all day waiting for the boys to come home. They stirred up a bit of action for an hour or so before they were off to their evening activities. I went back to my old movies for a bit before retiring. Tomorrow will be better I am sure. At least I managed to care for Sugar in between stories!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Full House
First choir practice of the year. I had worked on selecting repertoire and learning scores. It will be so good to see everyone! I have missed being able to go to church, and even now am not sure whether I will be able to do what is needed. But I am determined to try.
I know that there is the risk of exposure to the flu, so I ask everyone not to hug me (and even at that I missed someone and ended up being hugged). Not sure how Sunday will work for that part. I sat most of the evening because of strength issues, and stood for a bit due to bone marrow biopsy tenderness.
But all the concerns melted away once we started working on the music. How wonderful it is to sing together! To remember music we have sung before, to listen to new pieces, to explore blend and balance and clarity of text. Starting a season is always challenging because there is so much to learn and so little time to get it all down. We are up to the task.
Best of all, most of the members of the choir were able to be there. Chairs were full and faces smiling - what an encouragement to have a full house. The hour and a half flew by. Not bad for a first rehearsal. Now all I need is to strategize for Sunday.
I know that there is the risk of exposure to the flu, so I ask everyone not to hug me (and even at that I missed someone and ended up being hugged). Not sure how Sunday will work for that part. I sat most of the evening because of strength issues, and stood for a bit due to bone marrow biopsy tenderness.
But all the concerns melted away once we started working on the music. How wonderful it is to sing together! To remember music we have sung before, to listen to new pieces, to explore blend and balance and clarity of text. Starting a season is always challenging because there is so much to learn and so little time to get it all down. We are up to the task.
Best of all, most of the members of the choir were able to be there. Chairs were full and faces smiling - what an encouragement to have a full house. The hour and a half flew by. Not bad for a first rehearsal. Now all I need is to strategize for Sunday.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Retesting Bone Marrow
The first time I had a bone marrow biopsy, I wasn't sure what to expect. I thought surely they would give me drugs to knock me out, and I had asked someone to accompany me and drive me home. Turns out they use a local anaesthetic and I could have driven myself home.
This time I decided to just go by myself. It was familiar. Same room, same personnel, same process. Lie on your stomach, first stick in your behind/hip burns a little, then a deeper numbing, then a bone numbing. Insert bigger needle, withdraw fluid (breathe like LaMaze - in through your nose, out through your mouth), ten seconds of yikes! done. Then same for removing a small piece of bone.
This time the bone bit was not cooperating and she had to take a second sample. Eeeeee - pant, pant, pant, pant. Ten second count down, done. Get that pressure bandage applied. Then a quick finger stick and its all over.
No so bad really. They let you roll on your back and lie still for several minutes before they discharge you. The lady taking the blood from my finger told me I did real well. Some people can't handle it and they do have to sedate them. Hum.
I have to admit that although I was perfectly capable of driving myself home, I was glad I had run my two errands before the procedure, for I surely had no desire to go anywhere but home. I know I will have to have at least one more bone marrow biopsy after the Bexxar. Sigh.
The one shining light is that I get to see how much progress the chemo has made against the cancer. I have a CT scan on Monday, and an appointment to hear about it all on the 22nd. Yeah! I sit in my blue recliner and focus on how good that news will be. And nap.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
One White Flower
Every building in our complex has 2 front doors, each painted brick red. Each door has 2 tall bushes, one on each side of the small porch, like parentheses. Each bush is now in full bloom, loaded with purple flowers. Some of the flowers are a reddish purple, the rest are a bluish purple.
You would think all these colors would clash, but surprisingly, they work well together. I have no idea what type of flowering bushes these are. There is no particular fragrance to the flowers, but they are plentiful, attract all sorts of bees from honey to bumble, and are very pretty.
Yesterday as Sugar and I were taking a short walk, I discovered that the bush to the left of the far door on the next building had one lone white flower near the bottom of the bush. I had to look closely to make sure the light wasn't playing tricks. Sure enough, one white blossom, tucked in amongst the leaves, gently nodding. Its white purity seemed so fresh and welcome among all that purple.
It reminded me of the story in Luke 17 of the ten lepers that came to Jesus for healing. He told them to present themselves to the appropriate authorities, the priests, and as they headed there, they were healed. One of them, realizing what had happened, ran back to Jesus to thank him. One. How refreshing that must have seemed. What a beautiful contrast to the "norm" around him. Gently and quietly tucked amongst the hecticness of life was one soul who remembered to be grateful.
Every day as I pass that bush, I stop for a minute (Sugar doesn't mind - there's lots to investigate) and thank God for his constant presence, for his keeping of me throughout the chemo process, that I didn't encounter the difficulties I saw others struggle with, that I am finished with this phase and regaining strength every day.
I still feel pretty purple inside, but maybe a tinge of white is starting to appear. I'll keep working on it.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Weird Dream
For awhile I wasn't sleeping well enough to remember any dreams. Lately, I have been sleeping better and my dreams have been those strange type where people who don't know each other are interacting in the dream. Mostly, the actions could happen, but don't make any sense in reality.
Last night, I thumbed through my Tasha Tudor illustrated Psalm 23, then sighed a quick prayer. "Lord, I'm tired of dreaming about silly nonsense. Couldn't I please dream about heaven and you and cool stuff like that?"
Here's what I dreamed:
I was in my Grandmother's back yard and noticed two pretty bushes I had never seen before. I walked towards them for a closer look. Instead of flowers, the bushes were covered with tiny little butterflies with pointy wings and iridescent color.
I reached out my hand to touch them, but suddenly they all turned into some sort of blueberry. I tried to touch the berries, but they kept falling off the bush. Suddenly I realized that my legs were covered with bright red spots. I was terrified and didn't know what to do about them. I was pretty sure it was a serious condition.
At once, a person - whom I didn't know at all, but wasn't afraid of - started to brush the red spots off my left leg. Within minutes, the spots had disappeared. "Quick! Do the other leg!" I begged. The person smiled and obliged, brushing the spots off my other leg.
"There," the person said. "You are healed."
It took a minute to understand what the person said. Healed? Going to live? Yes! I did a little dance step. Then the impact of what was said hit me and I started dancing and leaping with great joy and abandon, not caring who might see my silly gyrations.
And I woke up.
Certainly something to ponder! And I'll take the healing, thank you very much.
Last night, I thumbed through my Tasha Tudor illustrated Psalm 23, then sighed a quick prayer. "Lord, I'm tired of dreaming about silly nonsense. Couldn't I please dream about heaven and you and cool stuff like that?"
Here's what I dreamed:
I was in my Grandmother's back yard and noticed two pretty bushes I had never seen before. I walked towards them for a closer look. Instead of flowers, the bushes were covered with tiny little butterflies with pointy wings and iridescent color.
I reached out my hand to touch them, but suddenly they all turned into some sort of blueberry. I tried to touch the berries, but they kept falling off the bush. Suddenly I realized that my legs were covered with bright red spots. I was terrified and didn't know what to do about them. I was pretty sure it was a serious condition.
At once, a person - whom I didn't know at all, but wasn't afraid of - started to brush the red spots off my left leg. Within minutes, the spots had disappeared. "Quick! Do the other leg!" I begged. The person smiled and obliged, brushing the spots off my other leg.
"There," the person said. "You are healed."
It took a minute to understand what the person said. Healed? Going to live? Yes! I did a little dance step. Then the impact of what was said hit me and I started dancing and leaping with great joy and abandon, not caring who might see my silly gyrations.
And I woke up.
Certainly something to ponder! And I'll take the healing, thank you very much.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Bit of Paranoia
I debated whether to attend church today even though the choir will not begin until next Sunday. In fact, I had seriously thought of going just to see how much it takes energy wise and whether I am up to it.
Two things stopped me. First, several people from church mentioned that they have had a bad virus and have been lying low. That right there was enough to give me pause. Second, I have had a leaky nose and a cough myself. I don't know what is causing it. There is no fever or phlegm, but it does tire me out and I know my immune system is not quite full strength yet.
I am hoping this is just a fall allergy kind of thing. But I feel like I am still a bit fragile, and find myself washing my hands often and being ever so careful about where I go. I would hate to trip myself up now! I do realize that I can't stay isolated forever. At some point I have to get on with life. But knowing just where the line is, that's the trick.
In a few months, I am sure things will be back to normal, if there is such a thing. But right now, I try to allow my paranoia to balance my drive so that I maintain some sort of rational stasis!
Two things stopped me. First, several people from church mentioned that they have had a bad virus and have been lying low. That right there was enough to give me pause. Second, I have had a leaky nose and a cough myself. I don't know what is causing it. There is no fever or phlegm, but it does tire me out and I know my immune system is not quite full strength yet.
I am hoping this is just a fall allergy kind of thing. But I feel like I am still a bit fragile, and find myself washing my hands often and being ever so careful about where I go. I would hate to trip myself up now! I do realize that I can't stay isolated forever. At some point I have to get on with life. But knowing just where the line is, that's the trick.
In a few months, I am sure things will be back to normal, if there is such a thing. But right now, I try to allow my paranoia to balance my drive so that I maintain some sort of rational stasis!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
School Shopping
I finally convinced Drew to hold his annual fashion show for me. He brings out all his clothes and we sort through them, getting rid of the "too small, too big, too stained, too ripped, too yukky and I never wear it, too many" stuff.
I have always insisted that one's closet not be crammed with unworn items that might be of use to someone else. I refuse to own more of a thing than makes sense (do you really need a hundred tee shirts???). If you haven't space to store it, get rid of it. The only place I budge from my stringent rules is in the area of sentimental value. I will make concession for that.
So we sifted through Drew's stuff and made a list of things he will need for school. I think my standards were a bit higher than his when it comes to stains - he tends to be a bit messy when eating, but that doesn't stop him from wearing a favorite shirt!
Drew and I have been whittling away at the list of school supplies needed for this school year. A few of the items are pricey (like the calculator for math), and I waited until this pay period to purchase them. Add to that the clothing needs and I find myself with a list a mile long.
I enlisted the help of my sister to take Drew to Dick's Sports to purchase the necessary new cleats and soccer gear. That was an ouch and a half. Then, Drew and I carefully planned a trip to the new Target when I had energy and we figured the fewest people would be in the store.
Drew kept seeing things he thought would be good to have. I kept saying that if he added something to the list, I would have to take something away. Things went back to the rack as he debated carefully the needs against the desires.
We didn't quite get everything on the list. A few things were not exactly what he was looking for, and a few things they didn't have. So we have another little trip or two, but at least we got the majority of things before classes start next Wednesday.
Back to school shopping has become quite the event. I just have to remember to set aside more money for next year!
I have always insisted that one's closet not be crammed with unworn items that might be of use to someone else. I refuse to own more of a thing than makes sense (do you really need a hundred tee shirts???). If you haven't space to store it, get rid of it. The only place I budge from my stringent rules is in the area of sentimental value. I will make concession for that.
So we sifted through Drew's stuff and made a list of things he will need for school. I think my standards were a bit higher than his when it comes to stains - he tends to be a bit messy when eating, but that doesn't stop him from wearing a favorite shirt!
Drew and I have been whittling away at the list of school supplies needed for this school year. A few of the items are pricey (like the calculator for math), and I waited until this pay period to purchase them. Add to that the clothing needs and I find myself with a list a mile long.
I enlisted the help of my sister to take Drew to Dick's Sports to purchase the necessary new cleats and soccer gear. That was an ouch and a half. Then, Drew and I carefully planned a trip to the new Target when I had energy and we figured the fewest people would be in the store.
Drew kept seeing things he thought would be good to have. I kept saying that if he added something to the list, I would have to take something away. Things went back to the rack as he debated carefully the needs against the desires.
We didn't quite get everything on the list. A few things were not exactly what he was looking for, and a few things they didn't have. So we have another little trip or two, but at least we got the majority of things before classes start next Wednesday.
Back to school shopping has become quite the event. I just have to remember to set aside more money for next year!
Friday, September 4, 2009
The Trip
Kiel decided to take a quick trip out to Ballston Spa to visit his brother. This doesn't make any sense to me. The semester just started, there are assignments in the works. A rhythm is just starting to be established. His car is old and making odd noises. The price of gas is still high. But there was no dissuading him.
Ah, the naivety of youth! What better time to jump out there and test your wings! I did plenty of testing myself. I shudder to think about some of the less than wise ventures I embarked upon. I certainly learned a lot about what NOT to do. And somehow I managed to survive despite those decisions.
Its harder as a Mom to watch your kids do things that could blow up on them than it was as a young adult to do inadvisable stuff. I guess that's how my Mom got to be such a prayer warrior. I pushed that skill to the max! And now here I am on the other side learning a whole different set of life coping skills (like biting your tongue and letting the chips fall).
Good thing I have plenty to keep myself occupied and engaged. What with all the coping for my own issues, I have much less time to interfere with my kids' lives. But I *do* have time to pray often and heartily. And so I shall.
Ah, the naivety of youth! What better time to jump out there and test your wings! I did plenty of testing myself. I shudder to think about some of the less than wise ventures I embarked upon. I certainly learned a lot about what NOT to do. And somehow I managed to survive despite those decisions.
Its harder as a Mom to watch your kids do things that could blow up on them than it was as a young adult to do inadvisable stuff. I guess that's how my Mom got to be such a prayer warrior. I pushed that skill to the max! And now here I am on the other side learning a whole different set of life coping skills (like biting your tongue and letting the chips fall).
Good thing I have plenty to keep myself occupied and engaged. What with all the coping for my own issues, I have much less time to interfere with my kids' lives. But I *do* have time to pray often and heartily. And so I shall.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Sleepin' With Your Hat On
In certain episodes of Little House on the Prairie, scenes where Laura climbs the ladder to her bedroom loft, you see her being tucked into bed with a flannel nightcap on her head.
That's such a foreign concept for people who have lived all their lives in centrally heated houses - the idea of sleeping in an unheated space and needing a hat to keep your head warm!
My Mother tells me that when she was a girl, they used to heat bricks in the fireplace or wood stove, wrap them in towels, and tuck them in at the foot of their beds, then climb in. By the time the brick had lost its heat, she would be asleep and not mind the cold so much.
For the last few nights, I have broken out my flannel jammies and put a second quilt on my bed. While its not freezing by any means, its definitely fall night chilly. The thermostat hovers somewhere around the 40s and 50s.
I guess I am still thinking summer, but somewhere in the middle of the night I wake up because of the cold. Its surprising how penetrating the cold can be when you have a bald head! I suppose I should emulate Laura and go to bed with my snugly warm hat on, but I never think of it until too late.
I have two knit skull-hugging caps that the cancer center gave me - one is a bright yellow, the other a light blue. Usually I favor the light blue one, but I left it on the coffee table one night and something got spilled on it and the stain didn't come entirely out.
Now I save it for night time. No more waking up shivering. I tuck that cozy cap over my shiny head and ears and sigh. What a difference it makes! Even if the temperatures plunge, I manage to stay warm.
I also discovered that I can pull the brim down over my eyes for those nights when the moon is shining brightly and shut out even the tiniest hint of light.
And, of course, should I have need to suddenly exit my apartment in the middle of the night, my hat is already on. Ah, hats are a wonderful thing. You should try it sometime. Go to bed with a hat on. You will think yourself smack dab in the middle of Twas the Night Before Christmas!
That's such a foreign concept for people who have lived all their lives in centrally heated houses - the idea of sleeping in an unheated space and needing a hat to keep your head warm!
My Mother tells me that when she was a girl, they used to heat bricks in the fireplace or wood stove, wrap them in towels, and tuck them in at the foot of their beds, then climb in. By the time the brick had lost its heat, she would be asleep and not mind the cold so much.
For the last few nights, I have broken out my flannel jammies and put a second quilt on my bed. While its not freezing by any means, its definitely fall night chilly. The thermostat hovers somewhere around the 40s and 50s.
I guess I am still thinking summer, but somewhere in the middle of the night I wake up because of the cold. Its surprising how penetrating the cold can be when you have a bald head! I suppose I should emulate Laura and go to bed with my snugly warm hat on, but I never think of it until too late.
I have two knit skull-hugging caps that the cancer center gave me - one is a bright yellow, the other a light blue. Usually I favor the light blue one, but I left it on the coffee table one night and something got spilled on it and the stain didn't come entirely out.
Now I save it for night time. No more waking up shivering. I tuck that cozy cap over my shiny head and ears and sigh. What a difference it makes! Even if the temperatures plunge, I manage to stay warm.
I also discovered that I can pull the brim down over my eyes for those nights when the moon is shining brightly and shut out even the tiniest hint of light.
And, of course, should I have need to suddenly exit my apartment in the middle of the night, my hat is already on. Ah, hats are a wonderful thing. You should try it sometime. Go to bed with a hat on. You will think yourself smack dab in the middle of Twas the Night Before Christmas!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Convocation
This year I was asked to speak at Convocation, that chapel to kick off the new semester where faculty march in their regalia and the new academic year is blessed. I was surprised and humbled to be asked. Here is my speech, in case anyone is interested:
On Being Transformed: Education Under the Influence
Convocation 2009
It is a particular honor to be here with you today. Many of you know that I am a five year rectal cancer survivor and that this summer I found myself battling cancer once again in the form of follicular lymphoma.
I appreciate so much the prayers and support of this community. I share with you some thoughts about things that have been tested and proven in life’s challenging moments. You will understand that since my strength is not what it should be, I will talk as I am seated.
We stand at the threshold of the 2009-2010 academic year, and join thousands of students and faculty all across America and around the world who are beginning a new semester, as we each ask ourselves the same burning question:
What am I doing here?
Seriously, think about it. You have already completed 12 to 16 years of schooling. Now you are embarking on another 1 to 4 years of classes, papers and reading. Why?
Perhaps you believe, as Aristotle did, that "The foundation of every state is the education of its youth."
Maybe you agree with Horace Mann, the father of American public school education, that "Education, beyond all other devices of human origin, is the great equalizer of the conditions of men,—the balance-wheel of the social machinery."
Or you may think that former British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli spoke the truth when he said that "Upon the education of the people of this country the fate of this country depends."
People across the centuries have been convinced of the transforming role of education on society. Education will change you.
Maybe you are not here to be changed. Perhaps your parents made you come, maybe you want to be able to get a better-than-minimum-wage job, or you believe this to be the ideal place to find a spouse. Whatever the reason, here you are in academia, undergoing this amazing transformation.
Educational transformation is similar to what a caterpillar undergoes after spinning its cocoon. There it waits in a protected environment while mysterious changes take place. Somehow this worm-like creature, this caterpillar, is changed bit by bit until it emerges a totally different creature, a beautiful butterfly.
That’s something like what happens at college. Little by little, in a seemingly sheltered environment, almost imperceptibly, you will be changed by what you encounter during your academic pursuits.
Those of you who are freshmen and transfer students, who are at the beginning of your exciting (and maybe just a bit scary) journey at Roberts may not be able to see all the change that lies ahead. I assure you that marvelous things are in store!
Sophomores and juniors have the unique perspective of being in the middle of your time here. You can look back and see some of the changes that have already begun in your lives, and you can look ahead and perhaps glimpse even better changes to come.
Seniors and grad students will soon burst forth from this place transformed, ready to embark on life’s next steps. You look back over your time here, remembering what you were like when you arrived and seeing the some of the changes that have taken place.
Faculty and staff will tell you that there will be more opportunities for educational transformation ahead, for it is a lifelong process.
So the question I ask you today is not, “what are you doing here,” but
How will you be transformed this year?
How will YOU be CHANGED THIS year?
We are told that education is the process of imparting or acquiring general knowledge, developing the powers of reasoning and judgment, and preparing oneself or others intellectually for mature life, developing the abilities of the mind.
That’s what academic institutions do. They fill your head full of facts and information, expose you to new ideas and disciplines, and work on developing your mind to prepare you for life.
One view of life that our culture puts forth is that of a board game. Education prepares you to enter the game of life by helping you select a playing piece as you select a career.
Picture it. Here you are at college getting your game piece, whether it’s a nurses’ uniform, a teacher’s apple, a social worker’s case book. You work hard, graduate, place your marker on the board, and voila! You are now in the game of life.
You roll the dice and move through your days dealing with whatever life throws at you, hoping to make it to GO and collect $200 before you end up owing your entire fortune to someone else. Life is unpredictable, and everyone plays with the same chances.
The difference, we are told, is that with enough education, you might collect $2000 instead of $200. Hopefully you will make better decisions, pick up fewer liabilities, have a better quality of life as you race around and around the board, hoping to end up with that illusive American dream.
Sound familiar? Of course, there’s nothing wrong with living life smarter. That’s an admirable but limited goal.
There are much greater possibilities, more desirable outcomes in life.
In Proverbs, God, Who is infinitely brilliant, commands us to get, not just an education, but wisdom.
Wisdom affects much more than your mind. It affects your whole being. From Genesis to Revelation the virtues of wisdom are extolled.
Wisdom is much more than merely acquiring facts and learning information although that’s important. But it’s only a small part of what God has in store for us.
Yes, we need to learn about and understand our world. We need to study history and literature, poetry and geometry and all those necessary subjects.
Wisdom doesn’t stop there!
To become truly wise takes more than book learning. There is a second leg of the life’s ladder that has to do with who you are deep inside, with teaching your heart, developing your character.
This is equally as important as head learning, and yet this aspect of our lives doesn’t always get the attention it deserves.
God wants to be part of our entire education, to teach us, to show us marvelous things, to move us beyond the ordinary into the divine, to transform us into the image of God.
God’s desire for our lives involves a paradigm vastly more productive than a board game. God’s motto isn’t “Be all that you can be,” but “Be infinitely more than you ever dreamed possible.”
Now there’s a goal worth going after this year!
How do we become more than we can dream of? How do we move from getting an education to acquiring wisdom? What might that look like?
Let’s take a look at a person who first received a great education according to the world’s standards, and then that education came under the influence of God.
Let’s consider Moses. He was born during the time that God’s people were slaves in Egypt. Moses’ parents were afraid he would be killed according to the Pharaoh’s command, so they hid him in a basket in the river, where he was found and adopted by a Princess of Egypt.
As a member of the royal household, Moses received the best education Egypt had to offer. He was part of the upper crust of society, the cream de la crème who received an Ivy League education, if you will.
Josephus speculated that Moses was a precocious learner who pursued military training. Philo outlined possible subjects Moses might have studied such as grammar, reading, literature, poetry, history, rhetoric, philosophy, arithmetic, geometry, rhythms, harmony, and music, not so different from the list of what we study today.
Of course, Moses did it all in hieroglyphics!
The point is, Moses’ position allowed him access to a well rounded, excellent, education. And what is the result of this stellar education?
First, his peacemaking endeavors ended up with his murdering an Egyptian, which he covered up; then, fearful of being found out, he fled for his life. He ended up in the middle of nowhere taking care of someone else’s sheep.
Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
Ah, but then. Then he had an encounter with God at the burning bush. He could have chosen to have turned away from that bush, to have refused to check out something so unreasonable, impossible and unscientific. But he didn’t.
He signed on for an education under the influence of God. God taught him things he could never have imagined during his formal education, far beyond just facts and information.
The result? Moses was transformed into a leader of a great nation who defeated the powerful Pharaoh without ever drawing a sword. He changed the lives of thousands of Hebrews. He is still a leading figure in the world’s major religions, remembered and honored centuries later.
Talk about exciting! Moses was transformed by God into a man of wisdom, into a world changer.
There are many examples of people whose lives have come under the influence of God, both from the Bible and from across the centuries into today. It would take hours to list them all. I’m sure as you think about it, you could easily name a dozen or more yourself.
But ask yourself this question:
Why shouldn’t I be one of them?
Can you even imagine what that was like for Moses? Think about yourself. What would it be like to have the Creator of the Universe teach you a subject like – physics, for example?
On the one hand is your physics text book, your faculty person, your TA, your assignments all working together to help you understand.
On the other hand is your brain going “I get it. I don’t quite get it, I think I see, no, not quite.”
Then you pray and ask God to help you understand, and the Holy Spirit begins to peel back the layers of darkness and confusion, showing you little pieces of the puzzle until it begins to come together, to make sense. And then – you get it! How incredible is that?
And there’s more! This process of transformational education under the influence of God applies to every area of your life. It isn’t limited to just subjects you are studying in class.
Suppose you are having trouble declaring a major or getting along with your room mate or communicating with your parents. Maybe someone close to you die unexpectedly – or even expectedly. Maybe you find yourself battling cancer – for the second time.
On the one hand, you have the question, information you have gathered, advice from your friends, advisors, pastor.
On the other hand, your brain is still confused, unsure, can’t quite figure it out.
You pray, “Lord, teach me.” And the Holy Spirit begins to work, to open your eyes, to show you new insights, and things come together until the answer is there before you, as clear and simple as can be.
You can’t figure out how you could have missed it!
Let me plant this idea. It’s just possible that, as you are open to God’s teaching, you will discover brand new insights, new discoveries, new inventions that the experts have not yet uncovered. We have barely scratched the surface of what can be accomplished.
What amazing resources are available to us as children of God!
You can’t get that kind of education just anywhere!
Psalm 1 paints a picture of what a life transformed under the influence of God can be like. If you hang around Sin Saloon, Dead End Road and Smart Mouth College, you will become like the ungodly – irritating chaff that blows about in the wilderness, accomplishing little.
But as you choose to chew on Scripture, to seek God’s teaching, you will be transformed into a nurturing tree, with deep roots, full of life, planted by a river of water that never dries out.
This tree provides shelter and sustenance for others and accomplishes what it was created to do. It is a joy and delight, beautiful for all to behold, reminiscent of the Garden of Eden.
What a wonderful picture of a life well lived! How different from the board game mentality – how much more potential to make an impact on our world!
How do we connect today? After all, there aren’t many burning bushes hanging about.
Those of us who were brought up in a church might think about beginning with what Psalm 1 advises. Immerse yourself in God’s Word. Have daily, day long conversations with God in prayer. That’s an excellent beginning, but there are many ways to connect.
Learn from people who are immersed in God’s Word, who are daily under the influence as are the faculty and staff here at Roberts. These amazing people pour out their lives here because God called them to help shape you into the image of God.
As part of this academic year, I would encourage you to participate in the spiritual formation events that are part of the program here at Roberts and Northeastern Seminary, such as the new Faith Integration Fridays – if you haven’t heard about that yet, you will.
Take advantage of the Cultural Life lectures, Academic Day in the spring, the campus readings like Amish Grace and the many conferences that the Spiritual Life Council plans especially to help you find your burning bush, your intersection with God.
Your burning bush education might take you to an inner city classroom in Rochester where children battle daily to overcome life’s inequities. What better place to learn compassion?
Imagine God showing you how to love the unlovely through distributing food at the Open Door Mission to people who have lost their way.
Maybe your path will lead to the Wilmot Cancer Center at Strong Memorial Hospital where patients are fighting for their lives and are desperate for a drink of cool refreshing water of God’s Word.
Perhaps on your journey you will find yourself in Romania, hugging an abandoned orphan child who has never known what it’s like to be loved, and suddenly realizing how much God loves you.
All of these activities are possible here. I mention only a few ways your education might come under the influence of a God who is so non-conformist that he can speak to you through every imaginable construct and activity.
Listen to Roberts Wesleyan College’s Vision 2020 statement:
“Transforming minds and hearts to shape and serve our world.”
Let me say that again. Catch the two legs of the ladder – minds and hearts.
“Transforming MINDS and HEARTS to SHAPE and SERVE our world.”
Roberts Wesleyan College and Northeastern Seminary are places where you can be intentionally transformed by acquiring an education under the influence of the most intelligent Being in the universe.
I challenge you to consider carefully what you will do with this year’s opportunities.
You can choose the path more traveled, scrape by with the bare minimum, get through the semester and on to real job of living. You can gripe about the requirements, escape the distasteful assignments, ignore the tasks God is specifically calling you to participate in this year.
Or you can choose the path less traveled but of immeasurable value. Take every advantage. Seek the divine among the ordinary. Wake up every morning in excited anticipation of God teaching you – both through the gifted and dedicated faculty in classrooms and beyond.
Don’t settle for merely filling your mind with information so you can get a good job and climb on the monopoly board. Listen to that small still voice within you, calling you to turn aside and take off your sandals because God desires to speak with you.
Learn to recognize your burning bush as God reveals it to you. Our paths are chosen of the Lord and sculpted especially for each of us. My path will not look the same as your path.
I cannot urge you strongly enough – choose the burning bush!
Let God transform you.
Become a tree of life.
Our world needs all the help it can get to overcome the violence, war, hunger, disease, and pain. The only answer to these problems is God.
This world desperately needs trees of life far more than it needs dice rollers.
Be willing to do what it takes this year to become a world changer.
When God is part of your education, your transformation will be phenomenal and radical. God promises this to us.
Jeremiah 33:3 says “Call to me and I will answer you. I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own.”
When God is part of your education, you will go places you never imagined and do things you couldn't have foreseen in a million years.
I urge you – make this year count.
Be transformed.
You will not be disappointed!
Almighty God, grant that this year we all might learn to be world changers.
Allow us to hear your voice clearly,
to see through your eyes,
to have your heart of understanding,
to be filled with your wisdom.
O God, transform us into the image of Christ that we may love and serve the world in the power of your might.
Amen.
Psalm 1 (The Message)
1How well God must like you— you don't hang out at Sin Saloon, you don't slink along Dead-End Road, you don't go to Smart-Mouth College.
2-3 Instead you thrill to God's Word, you chew on Scripture day and night. You're a tree replanted in Eden, bearing fresh fruit every month, never dropping a leaf, always in blossom.
4-5 You're not at all like the wicked, who are mere windblown dust— Without defense in court, unfit company for innocent people.
6 God charts the road you take. The road they take is Skid Row.
On Being Transformed: Education Under the Influence
Convocation 2009
It is a particular honor to be here with you today. Many of you know that I am a five year rectal cancer survivor and that this summer I found myself battling cancer once again in the form of follicular lymphoma.
I appreciate so much the prayers and support of this community. I share with you some thoughts about things that have been tested and proven in life’s challenging moments. You will understand that since my strength is not what it should be, I will talk as I am seated.
We stand at the threshold of the 2009-2010 academic year, and join thousands of students and faculty all across America and around the world who are beginning a new semester, as we each ask ourselves the same burning question:
What am I doing here?
Seriously, think about it. You have already completed 12 to 16 years of schooling. Now you are embarking on another 1 to 4 years of classes, papers and reading. Why?
Perhaps you believe, as Aristotle did, that "The foundation of every state is the education of its youth."
Maybe you agree with Horace Mann, the father of American public school education, that "Education, beyond all other devices of human origin, is the great equalizer of the conditions of men,—the balance-wheel of the social machinery."
Or you may think that former British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli spoke the truth when he said that "Upon the education of the people of this country the fate of this country depends."
People across the centuries have been convinced of the transforming role of education on society. Education will change you.
Maybe you are not here to be changed. Perhaps your parents made you come, maybe you want to be able to get a better-than-minimum-wage job, or you believe this to be the ideal place to find a spouse. Whatever the reason, here you are in academia, undergoing this amazing transformation.
Educational transformation is similar to what a caterpillar undergoes after spinning its cocoon. There it waits in a protected environment while mysterious changes take place. Somehow this worm-like creature, this caterpillar, is changed bit by bit until it emerges a totally different creature, a beautiful butterfly.
That’s something like what happens at college. Little by little, in a seemingly sheltered environment, almost imperceptibly, you will be changed by what you encounter during your academic pursuits.
Those of you who are freshmen and transfer students, who are at the beginning of your exciting (and maybe just a bit scary) journey at Roberts may not be able to see all the change that lies ahead. I assure you that marvelous things are in store!
Sophomores and juniors have the unique perspective of being in the middle of your time here. You can look back and see some of the changes that have already begun in your lives, and you can look ahead and perhaps glimpse even better changes to come.
Seniors and grad students will soon burst forth from this place transformed, ready to embark on life’s next steps. You look back over your time here, remembering what you were like when you arrived and seeing the some of the changes that have taken place.
Faculty and staff will tell you that there will be more opportunities for educational transformation ahead, for it is a lifelong process.
So the question I ask you today is not, “what are you doing here,” but
How will you be transformed this year?
How will YOU be CHANGED THIS year?
We are told that education is the process of imparting or acquiring general knowledge, developing the powers of reasoning and judgment, and preparing oneself or others intellectually for mature life, developing the abilities of the mind.
That’s what academic institutions do. They fill your head full of facts and information, expose you to new ideas and disciplines, and work on developing your mind to prepare you for life.
One view of life that our culture puts forth is that of a board game. Education prepares you to enter the game of life by helping you select a playing piece as you select a career.
Picture it. Here you are at college getting your game piece, whether it’s a nurses’ uniform, a teacher’s apple, a social worker’s case book. You work hard, graduate, place your marker on the board, and voila! You are now in the game of life.
You roll the dice and move through your days dealing with whatever life throws at you, hoping to make it to GO and collect $200 before you end up owing your entire fortune to someone else. Life is unpredictable, and everyone plays with the same chances.
The difference, we are told, is that with enough education, you might collect $2000 instead of $200. Hopefully you will make better decisions, pick up fewer liabilities, have a better quality of life as you race around and around the board, hoping to end up with that illusive American dream.
Sound familiar? Of course, there’s nothing wrong with living life smarter. That’s an admirable but limited goal.
There are much greater possibilities, more desirable outcomes in life.
In Proverbs, God, Who is infinitely brilliant, commands us to get, not just an education, but wisdom.
Wisdom affects much more than your mind. It affects your whole being. From Genesis to Revelation the virtues of wisdom are extolled.
Wisdom is much more than merely acquiring facts and learning information although that’s important. But it’s only a small part of what God has in store for us.
Yes, we need to learn about and understand our world. We need to study history and literature, poetry and geometry and all those necessary subjects.
Wisdom doesn’t stop there!
To become truly wise takes more than book learning. There is a second leg of the life’s ladder that has to do with who you are deep inside, with teaching your heart, developing your character.
This is equally as important as head learning, and yet this aspect of our lives doesn’t always get the attention it deserves.
God wants to be part of our entire education, to teach us, to show us marvelous things, to move us beyond the ordinary into the divine, to transform us into the image of God.
God’s desire for our lives involves a paradigm vastly more productive than a board game. God’s motto isn’t “Be all that you can be,” but “Be infinitely more than you ever dreamed possible.”
Now there’s a goal worth going after this year!
How do we become more than we can dream of? How do we move from getting an education to acquiring wisdom? What might that look like?
Let’s take a look at a person who first received a great education according to the world’s standards, and then that education came under the influence of God.
Let’s consider Moses. He was born during the time that God’s people were slaves in Egypt. Moses’ parents were afraid he would be killed according to the Pharaoh’s command, so they hid him in a basket in the river, where he was found and adopted by a Princess of Egypt.
As a member of the royal household, Moses received the best education Egypt had to offer. He was part of the upper crust of society, the cream de la crème who received an Ivy League education, if you will.
Josephus speculated that Moses was a precocious learner who pursued military training. Philo outlined possible subjects Moses might have studied such as grammar, reading, literature, poetry, history, rhetoric, philosophy, arithmetic, geometry, rhythms, harmony, and music, not so different from the list of what we study today.
Of course, Moses did it all in hieroglyphics!
The point is, Moses’ position allowed him access to a well rounded, excellent, education. And what is the result of this stellar education?
First, his peacemaking endeavors ended up with his murdering an Egyptian, which he covered up; then, fearful of being found out, he fled for his life. He ended up in the middle of nowhere taking care of someone else’s sheep.
Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
Ah, but then. Then he had an encounter with God at the burning bush. He could have chosen to have turned away from that bush, to have refused to check out something so unreasonable, impossible and unscientific. But he didn’t.
He signed on for an education under the influence of God. God taught him things he could never have imagined during his formal education, far beyond just facts and information.
The result? Moses was transformed into a leader of a great nation who defeated the powerful Pharaoh without ever drawing a sword. He changed the lives of thousands of Hebrews. He is still a leading figure in the world’s major religions, remembered and honored centuries later.
Talk about exciting! Moses was transformed by God into a man of wisdom, into a world changer.
There are many examples of people whose lives have come under the influence of God, both from the Bible and from across the centuries into today. It would take hours to list them all. I’m sure as you think about it, you could easily name a dozen or more yourself.
But ask yourself this question:
Why shouldn’t I be one of them?
Can you even imagine what that was like for Moses? Think about yourself. What would it be like to have the Creator of the Universe teach you a subject like – physics, for example?
On the one hand is your physics text book, your faculty person, your TA, your assignments all working together to help you understand.
On the other hand is your brain going “I get it. I don’t quite get it, I think I see, no, not quite.”
Then you pray and ask God to help you understand, and the Holy Spirit begins to peel back the layers of darkness and confusion, showing you little pieces of the puzzle until it begins to come together, to make sense. And then – you get it! How incredible is that?
And there’s more! This process of transformational education under the influence of God applies to every area of your life. It isn’t limited to just subjects you are studying in class.
Suppose you are having trouble declaring a major or getting along with your room mate or communicating with your parents. Maybe someone close to you die unexpectedly – or even expectedly. Maybe you find yourself battling cancer – for the second time.
On the one hand, you have the question, information you have gathered, advice from your friends, advisors, pastor.
On the other hand, your brain is still confused, unsure, can’t quite figure it out.
You pray, “Lord, teach me.” And the Holy Spirit begins to work, to open your eyes, to show you new insights, and things come together until the answer is there before you, as clear and simple as can be.
You can’t figure out how you could have missed it!
Let me plant this idea. It’s just possible that, as you are open to God’s teaching, you will discover brand new insights, new discoveries, new inventions that the experts have not yet uncovered. We have barely scratched the surface of what can be accomplished.
What amazing resources are available to us as children of God!
You can’t get that kind of education just anywhere!
Psalm 1 paints a picture of what a life transformed under the influence of God can be like. If you hang around Sin Saloon, Dead End Road and Smart Mouth College, you will become like the ungodly – irritating chaff that blows about in the wilderness, accomplishing little.
But as you choose to chew on Scripture, to seek God’s teaching, you will be transformed into a nurturing tree, with deep roots, full of life, planted by a river of water that never dries out.
This tree provides shelter and sustenance for others and accomplishes what it was created to do. It is a joy and delight, beautiful for all to behold, reminiscent of the Garden of Eden.
What a wonderful picture of a life well lived! How different from the board game mentality – how much more potential to make an impact on our world!
How do we connect today? After all, there aren’t many burning bushes hanging about.
Those of us who were brought up in a church might think about beginning with what Psalm 1 advises. Immerse yourself in God’s Word. Have daily, day long conversations with God in prayer. That’s an excellent beginning, but there are many ways to connect.
Learn from people who are immersed in God’s Word, who are daily under the influence as are the faculty and staff here at Roberts. These amazing people pour out their lives here because God called them to help shape you into the image of God.
As part of this academic year, I would encourage you to participate in the spiritual formation events that are part of the program here at Roberts and Northeastern Seminary, such as the new Faith Integration Fridays – if you haven’t heard about that yet, you will.
Take advantage of the Cultural Life lectures, Academic Day in the spring, the campus readings like Amish Grace and the many conferences that the Spiritual Life Council plans especially to help you find your burning bush, your intersection with God.
Your burning bush education might take you to an inner city classroom in Rochester where children battle daily to overcome life’s inequities. What better place to learn compassion?
Imagine God showing you how to love the unlovely through distributing food at the Open Door Mission to people who have lost their way.
Maybe your path will lead to the Wilmot Cancer Center at Strong Memorial Hospital where patients are fighting for their lives and are desperate for a drink of cool refreshing water of God’s Word.
Perhaps on your journey you will find yourself in Romania, hugging an abandoned orphan child who has never known what it’s like to be loved, and suddenly realizing how much God loves you.
All of these activities are possible here. I mention only a few ways your education might come under the influence of a God who is so non-conformist that he can speak to you through every imaginable construct and activity.
Listen to Roberts Wesleyan College’s Vision 2020 statement:
“Transforming minds and hearts to shape and serve our world.”
Let me say that again. Catch the two legs of the ladder – minds and hearts.
“Transforming MINDS and HEARTS to SHAPE and SERVE our world.”
Roberts Wesleyan College and Northeastern Seminary are places where you can be intentionally transformed by acquiring an education under the influence of the most intelligent Being in the universe.
I challenge you to consider carefully what you will do with this year’s opportunities.
You can choose the path more traveled, scrape by with the bare minimum, get through the semester and on to real job of living. You can gripe about the requirements, escape the distasteful assignments, ignore the tasks God is specifically calling you to participate in this year.
Or you can choose the path less traveled but of immeasurable value. Take every advantage. Seek the divine among the ordinary. Wake up every morning in excited anticipation of God teaching you – both through the gifted and dedicated faculty in classrooms and beyond.
Don’t settle for merely filling your mind with information so you can get a good job and climb on the monopoly board. Listen to that small still voice within you, calling you to turn aside and take off your sandals because God desires to speak with you.
Learn to recognize your burning bush as God reveals it to you. Our paths are chosen of the Lord and sculpted especially for each of us. My path will not look the same as your path.
I cannot urge you strongly enough – choose the burning bush!
Let God transform you.
Become a tree of life.
Our world needs all the help it can get to overcome the violence, war, hunger, disease, and pain. The only answer to these problems is God.
This world desperately needs trees of life far more than it needs dice rollers.
Be willing to do what it takes this year to become a world changer.
When God is part of your education, your transformation will be phenomenal and radical. God promises this to us.
Jeremiah 33:3 says “Call to me and I will answer you. I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own.”
When God is part of your education, you will go places you never imagined and do things you couldn't have foreseen in a million years.
I urge you – make this year count.
Be transformed.
You will not be disappointed!
Almighty God, grant that this year we all might learn to be world changers.
Allow us to hear your voice clearly,
to see through your eyes,
to have your heart of understanding,
to be filled with your wisdom.
O God, transform us into the image of Christ that we may love and serve the world in the power of your might.
Amen.
Psalm 1 (The Message)
1How well God must like you— you don't hang out at Sin Saloon, you don't slink along Dead-End Road, you don't go to Smart-Mouth College.
2-3 Instead you thrill to God's Word, you chew on Scripture day and night. You're a tree replanted in Eden, bearing fresh fruit every month, never dropping a leaf, always in blossom.
4-5 You're not at all like the wicked, who are mere windblown dust— Without defense in court, unfit company for innocent people.
6 God charts the road you take. The road they take is Skid Row.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
On Being Comforted
Do you remember when your world suddenly turned upside down mean and the older kids pulled your hair and called you names and wouldn't let you play hopscotch with them and they threw your bestest hop scotch stone so far into the empty field that you couldn't find it?
You ran home crying so hard you couldn't see and Mamma came bursting out the door to see what the commotion was. She knelt beside you, wiping away your tears with the backside of her apron and brushed your hair out of your eyes, scooping you up in her arms and patting your back.
You wrapped your legs around her waist and snuggled your face in the crook of her neck, sticking the two middle fingers of your left hand into your mouth and twining the fingers of your right hand into her hair. She never bothered to ask the particulars, for it didn't really matter. She just grabbed the weatherworn rocker and pulled it away from the porch wall, settling into it and tucking you in just right.
Then she pushed with her legs, sending that old rocker arching back, back, back until her feet were clean off the floor and the rocker couldn't move one smidge farther, suspended there for the longest time while you took a deep shuddering breath, waiting.
Then, ever so slowly, that rocker started to move forward, falling down, down, down until Mamma's feet gently hit the porch with a quiet ta-thump and her knees came up, up, up, hugging you tight.
It seemed like Mamma waited forever before pushing off again. There was something extraordinary about the rhythm of that rocker that shook the pain right out of you. Mamma never said a word. She didn't have to.
It never took very long before the world came right side up again and you relaxed your grip on Mamma's hair and just listened to the ta-thumping of her feet and the rolling of the rockers on the hard wood porch.
If anyone had the audacity to try and intervene or talk to you, they would be waved away. No one interfered with a good rocking. After a bit, your friends would call, and you would slide down off Mamma's lap and go running to play. Sometimes, Mamma would just sit in the chair a bit longer and smile.
These days, I haven't a porch much less a rocker on it. My boys are well past the hugging and rocking stage of life. But sometimes their world still turns wrong side up, and they still need someone to spend a minute with them until it changes round. Especially at the start of a new semester of school.
I spend time these days praying for all the students who are returning to class, especially for the freshmen whose worlds will be vastly different. Let the meltdowns be minor and pass quickly.
Please help me see when I just need to stand still with someone for a minute until the storm passes.
You ran home crying so hard you couldn't see and Mamma came bursting out the door to see what the commotion was. She knelt beside you, wiping away your tears with the backside of her apron and brushed your hair out of your eyes, scooping you up in her arms and patting your back.
You wrapped your legs around her waist and snuggled your face in the crook of her neck, sticking the two middle fingers of your left hand into your mouth and twining the fingers of your right hand into her hair. She never bothered to ask the particulars, for it didn't really matter. She just grabbed the weatherworn rocker and pulled it away from the porch wall, settling into it and tucking you in just right.
Then she pushed with her legs, sending that old rocker arching back, back, back until her feet were clean off the floor and the rocker couldn't move one smidge farther, suspended there for the longest time while you took a deep shuddering breath, waiting.
Then, ever so slowly, that rocker started to move forward, falling down, down, down until Mamma's feet gently hit the porch with a quiet ta-thump and her knees came up, up, up, hugging you tight.
It seemed like Mamma waited forever before pushing off again. There was something extraordinary about the rhythm of that rocker that shook the pain right out of you. Mamma never said a word. She didn't have to.
It never took very long before the world came right side up again and you relaxed your grip on Mamma's hair and just listened to the ta-thumping of her feet and the rolling of the rockers on the hard wood porch.
If anyone had the audacity to try and intervene or talk to you, they would be waved away. No one interfered with a good rocking. After a bit, your friends would call, and you would slide down off Mamma's lap and go running to play. Sometimes, Mamma would just sit in the chair a bit longer and smile.
These days, I haven't a porch much less a rocker on it. My boys are well past the hugging and rocking stage of life. But sometimes their world still turns wrong side up, and they still need someone to spend a minute with them until it changes round. Especially at the start of a new semester of school.
I spend time these days praying for all the students who are returning to class, especially for the freshmen whose worlds will be vastly different. Let the meltdowns be minor and pass quickly.
Please help me see when I just need to stand still with someone for a minute until the storm passes.