Long Range Plans

After months of working on a strategic plan for the library, today we came together with our goals and action plans to put all the pieces into the same document. What hard work it was translating how each person thought into the same language! There are four overall goals and within each there are several projects to move us closer to becoming the library we wish to be.

Some people listed their projects as steps of an action plan while others took each project and listed every little detail from beginning to end. Some goals were dependent on the completion of other projects before they could be determined. Some action plans sounded more like wish lists, others were uncertain of the order.

We whittled away at things until we got a clear picture of the projects for year 1 of our plan, and they were in a logical and reasonable order. The fog began to lift. It was as if we focused the binoculars to clear up the fuzziness of the picture. We felt good after the hour and a half worth of work was completed.

It occurred to me that even a few weeks ago, I would not have had the focus to think about projects as much as five years out. I was still in the careful mode of taking each day on its own merits and handling things only when they became necessary.

How good it feels to not only be able to think about work far ahead, but to know that there is every expectation that I will be around to be involved in carrying it out! Hallelujah. A milestone to celebrate for sure.

An Accounting

The chime choir has been faithfully practicing an arrangement of Joy to the World. Every week we have counted out the beats as we ring - 1 and 2 and a three and four and . . . At first, we would miss notes or get mixed up about just where our chime needed to ring. Joy to the World was more like Messed Up Choir.

Every week, we made progress. After a week we could play the first line fairly well, not falling apart until mid second line when the entrances fell off the beats. After three weeks, we played straight through measure 10 before we got lost. Then we could play everything except one or two measures that were tricky. Finally we got through the whole piece and every note was in place!

It was a marvelous accomplishment! We felt good about our song. But, knowing that we can't really count out loud for the performance in the service, this week we tried playing without counting out loud. Oh, my! It was as if we just couldn't figure out where we were.

We restarted a dozen times, bogging down quickly like we had never seen the music before. Even though we told ourselves to count in our heads, we continued to stumble at the most inopportune times. I could see how discouraging it was. Finally, we decided to listen to the music while we played and not get so caught up in counting.

After all, its a familiar carol. And there are little melodies of other familiar carols woven in here and there - a touch of Away in a Manger, Lo How a Rose, In the Bleak Mid-Winter. Once we knew what to listen for, things began to make sense. Our hard work with counting meant we knew the feel of ringing, the sense of when to come in, who would be playing before us, what to expect.

But our ears kept us together. Its much easier to think the melody of Joy to the World than to count 1and 2anda 3and4 and . . . We did much better after that. Sometimes I think that's how many things function. You practice until you know the feel, until the movements become automatic. But at some point you have to stop counting and listen with your heart. Then it comes together with beauty and grace.

Its probably time for me to stop practicing so hard and just start living. Perhaps I will give it a try.

Thanksgiving Day 7

I am so thankful for the beauty of this world. Such variety and imagination, so many combinations and possibilities!When I gaze out the living room window, I have a wonderful view of a wooded area just beyond the front lawn.

Each season brings with it a delightful array of beauty from the first daffodils of spring to the fragrant roses of summer to the brilliant colored leaves of fall. The wide lawns and wooded areas are one reason why I prefer this apartment complex over ones where the units are mushed together and there is no green space. There is a certain peace about being surrounded by nature rather than blacktop.

In the winter, when the trees are dormant and leafless and the bushes are stripped of their greenery as they are now, the view is a bit depressing what with the naked branches and brown grass. It does allow a broader vista of sky without the impediment of leaves - especially appreciated on days when the winter sky is flannel blue and bright with sun.

Today as I was walking Sugar, I realized that there are two lone trees embracing the building next to ours that have adamantly refused to shed their leaves. They are still in the full blown glory of autumn, their firmly attached leaves a cheerful combination of yellows and reds. What a comfort to behold amongst the browns and grays of all the other deciduous trees.

I wish I could live my life in such a way that I bring cheer and joy to those around me in much the same way as those two trees bless my eyes. When everything seems bleak and lifeless, those two trees are a constant reminder that seasons come and go (even if they hang on for awhile). The lifelessness of winter will last only until the fresh air of spring arrives.

Take heart, they seem to say. Enjoy one last fling of glorious color before the snow arrives. Be happy. And I am.

Thanksgiving Day 6

No sense waking the boys. I have errands to run, and they will not be up until after noon. I am looking for advent wreaths to send my sons who live far from me. Somehow I thought Target or Walmarts would have the candles. Why would I assume they would have supplies for a Christian tradition? I do find the white pillar candle for the Christ candle, but I will have to go to a Christian bookstore for the special holders and the right colors of candles. Purple and pink tapers are not easy to find.

How grateful I am that we live in a country where religious freedom is allowed. I am free to attend the church of my choice, to pray as I believe, to celebrate the traditions of my faith, to purchase Christian accouterments, to read my Bible - to own as many Bibles as I wish. I am free to talk with others about my faith, to read books by other Christians, to sing music with Christian texts. How fortunate is that!

I am grateful for all the many people who prayed for me during my cancer battle. What a difference it made, both in how treatments went and in my sense of the closeness of God when I was facing challenges that were greater than I could handle - and even during the ones that I arrogantly thought I could deal with on my own.

I do find what I want at the Christian bookstore, and with Kiel's help, I mail the advent wreath holders and candles to my sons along with an Advent devotional book written by people in the Community of the Savior church where I attend when I am not directing music at the United Methodist Church. I pack prayers into the box that my sons and their families will sense the peace of God this advent season. I pray the same for you. We are indeed most blessed.

Thanksgiving Day 5

Here we are - the big day! Thanksgiving! Of all the holidays, this one, though not of Christian origin, is a very Christian day. We ought to be thinking of all our blessings and privileges often. We have so much to be grateful for.



I let the boys sleep in and wandered into the kitchen to do some clean up. My energy levels are not always supportive of work and household, but since I had half a day off yesterday and will have Friday and Saturday to relax, it is time for me to try and straighten up and get things back into some semblance of control.



I spent three hours working on putting things to rights, inbetween setting a spell to regain my energy. It felt so good to be able to know that everything was clean and in the proper place! When the boys got up, they kept the momentum going. I am so thankful to have the house neat and proper.



We did our Thanksgiving dinner by going to Wegmans and selecting only what each person would eat. There was of course, turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes. Kiel and I like stuffing and cranberry sauce, but Drew does not. He loves black olives and dinner rolls which Kiel does not. We all selected a bottle of sparkling cranberry juice. Once we arrived at the house, it was a quick spin in the microwave and voila! A delicious feast.



This is the first year I have neither cooked nor traveled (my immune system is too fragile for being very far away). I am thankful for my parents, for their faith, their welcoming home., their supportive prayers. I would love to be able to visit with them this holiday, but decided the better part of valor was to stay home.

I thought it might seem oddly sad and empty, but it turned out to be a restful and appreciated day. Turns out it was fortuitous that we didn't go to Mom and Dad's. We got a call in the late afternoon from my sister who was at my parent's house. Dad was having difficulty breathing again even though the pneumonia he was being treated for a few weeks ago seems to have cleared up.

They took him to the ER where he was admitted for further testing. Besides not wanting to be exposed in case he has something contagious, I was relieved that we hadn't added to the noise and confusion of the day when he was not feeling well. He will definitely be in my prayers over the next few days. I am grateful he has a good hospital nearby and that they are taking good care of him.

Thanksgiving Day 4

Today the library closes at three (as does the campus since there are no undergrad classes). We have student help at the Circ Desk so staff can have lunch together, after which we decorate for the Christmas season.

Decorating consists of the facilities crew bringing and hanging a huge lighted wreath from the balcony, and depositing several boxes including an artificial Christmas tree and the trimmings in the Fireside Reading Room. We play Christmas music on the laptop and make an afternoon of setting up, including getting out the nativity set and positioning it by the front desk.

How thankful I am for these amazing colleagues who quietly and sacrificially kept things going when I was unable to, covered all my desk hours for me, and generally made sure everything got done when I was out of sync. It was not easy for them to take on extra work. They were stretched to the max in some instances.

As well, I am very thankful to the multitude of people who brought meals to my house when I had my chemo treatments. The boys were blessed by the outpouring of good food - so many different dishes, so much home cooking! They got a bit spoiled since I don't have time to do big meals like that often. Its probably the reason I never lost weight during my treatment!

I am also grateful to the many people who sent me cards of encouragement online and in print. All those letters helped keep me cheerful and encouraged. It was better than any anti-depressant. Thank you to all the people who drove me to doctor appointments and medical procedures and chemo and radiation and biopsies. Some of my drivers just brought their knitting and sat patiently for an hour or two while I had some test or surgery.

I cannot tell you how much all the support has meant to me over the last seven months. I am most blessed and thankful for all the caring and loving friends and neighbors. Truly, my heart is uplifted and strengthened by all the help I have received. This is a banner year for celebrating all the good things in my life!

Thanksgiving Day 3

Today I am thankful for the plethora of food and for the ability to eat it and keep it down (not to mention be able to pass it on through)! One does not realize how something as simple as eating can be taken from you.

I am thankful that during my chemo this time I was able to take drugs that prevented the nausea from overwhelming me. I remember during one hospitalization for the rectal cancer that the drugs did not prevent me from throwing up. At one point, the pastor's wife was visiting and I started vomiting queasy green slime straight from my toes. I wretched over and over, gagging in between, and she patiently held my hair out of my face and wiped my forehead with a cool cloth. Nothing like that occurred with this round, thank God.

I am grateful that I have the ability to buy all sorts and flavors of good food from Wegmans, and that there is one close to my house. I have been blessed to taste Asian pears (so juicy and crisp), South American bananas, every imaginable type of squash and melon - in season and out! Every imaginable kind of bread is available without my having to grind the grains, keep the yeast fresh, knead the dough, wait for it to rise, gather firewood, bank the coals - all the things so many people have to do just to eat a morsel of bread.

I am thankful that people with gardens are generous in sharing their fresh lettuce, tangy tomatoes, delectable green peppers, tender green beans. I love fresh vegetables even though I have a hard time digesting them. Tiny amounts are tolerable, and tease the tastebuds - which I am so grateful have come back to normal! It was trying when everything tasted like plastic. Sugar was not sweet, salt was not savory, tinny seemed to be the flavor du jour.

I am fortunate that my sense of smell was not greatly affected by the treatments either. My boys think I can sniff out anything amiss a mile away. Surely a good sense of smell enhances your appetite. Who doesn't appreciate the smell of fresh baked bread or onions frying or the delicate fragrances of spices in a delicious stew?

With Thanksgiving just days away, I am ever so grateful to be beyond cancer treatments and able to both participate in feasting and still remember what its like when you can't eat. Here's a happy gratefulness for food and the enjoyment of partaking.

Thanksgiving Day 2

Blue skies! How unusual for this time of year to greet a day sparkling with clear air and sunshine! I am grateful for all the seasons of the year, though I have to admit that this year has been a bit surprising.

The weather people tell us that if we don't get any snow by Thanksgiving Day, it will be the first time in 46 years - record breaking. And a bit scary since one could assume the warmer temperatures point towards a trend in global warming (though just how our cool summer temperatures play a part in that is unclear).


It makes me wonder what God had in mind when he first created the earth. Did Adam and Eve know only the gentleness of summer? Did they ever experience the explosion of spring, the brashness of fall, the chill of winter? After they were evicted, did they experience harsh weather?


I am grateful not only for the temperance of this past summer when the gentle temperatures made enduring illness a touch easier - or at least did not make things worse! I am grateful for the mildness of fall despite the uneven coloring of the leaves. How wonderful it is to be wandering about outdoors without a coat, to be free from shoveling snow or dealing with icy patches.


Good weather or bad, I am grateful for a home of my own, one that is comfortable and filled with my memories and special klediments. A home I share with family, a place to call my own. I have had my share of "in-between" times when we were either moving or unemployed, times when we had to bunk in with family or endure less than adequate housing.


With such an unpredictable economy, it is not a given that anyone will be able to maintain their own residence. I am spoiled to be untouched by woes of that nature, and blessed that I have family who would help me survive should I be affected. In light of the financial pressures that come with cancer, it is not that unrealistic a concern.


I am grateful to be blessed in both these areas. I pray for those who are less fortunate. May they be blessed soon.

A Week of Thanksgiving

This year, I am especially thankful for so much. I can't possible express it in one short day. So I will ramble on about all the things for which I am grateful for a few days.

This morning, I opened my eyes not to some dark and dingy hovel where I slept on the hard floor with only a worn coat to ward off the cold, but to a well heated, cozy, clean apartment where I slept in a comfortable bed swaddled in clean flannel sheets and warm handmade quilts sewn with love by my Mom.


I only had to walk a few feet to a bathroom with running water. How thankful I am for the hot steamy shower that massages my recuperating muscles. I have lived places where there was no running water and places where there was only cold running water, so I thoroughly appreciate an indoor facility with working faucets (no small thing considering nearly 3 billion people do not have access to clean water and proper sanitation, much less heated water)!


Gone are the days of braving the morning chill to prime a pump and fill a pail with enough water to heat on the stove. Gone are the days of scary smelly outhouses with their weathered wood and lack of privacy. No longer need I tuck two babies in the red wagon with a dozen plastic milk jugs of the gallon variety and hie down the road to the broken pipe jutting from the side of the mountain to get good water.


I am entirely blessed to have at my disposal a hot shower. The day can only get better from there. And indeed, it did. First, the chime choir played in the church service and did an excellent job. Then our accompanist, from Cuba, and her friend from the Honduras, played a concert of music from various South American and Latin American countries. Most of the music was unfamiliar to me, but thoroughly engaging.


The day ended with a service of thanksgiving at Pearce featuring readings from various Christians over the course of centuries, with prayers of thanksgiving, with joyful music, and best of all, I sat with my two sons who both took time from their activities to humor Mom, stepping aside to thank God and in the process wrapping me in the warmth of their caring.


How wonderful is that!

Stepping Up

I look back over my schedule for this past week and I am amazed at how many appointments I have attended. My dual lives are both in action. I had port draws and vet appointments and kids to dentists on the one hand, and faculty meetings, library development meetings, staff meetings, collection development meetings and reference instruction and classes on the other.

I am surprised that I seem to be OK with it all, even though I do not keep up with the housekeeping as I should quite yet. The chemo does not affect my ability to function in the same way the chemo for the rectal cancer did. Other than a few fishing for words episodes, I still seem to be able to match wits with the best of them. Yeah!

Thank God for the weekends when I can catch up with laundry, dishes, cooking, supply restocking and dog walking! I am also able to stay up a bit later most nights. Not that I minded going to bed at 8pm, but I hate to sleep away so many hours of my life. Ramping back up, but careful not to overdo while keeping the priorities on target.

No Car for You

Poor Baby, my white Chevy Malibu, has been in the shop all week. Her little trunk was bashed in when a pick up truck backed into us in a parking lot. I am thankful that the insurance covers a rental car while the repairs are being made, but really, a whole week? How tough can it be to pop off one trunk lid and pop on another!



I call the repair shop to see if my car is ready to come home today. I speak with a pleasant woman who puts me on hold to check. No, Baby is not quite ready. Maybe Monday. Not to worry, the insurance will continue to cover the rental car.



I am sad. I miss my own car. It fits me. Though the rental car is a bit bigger and more plush than mine, the seat is awkward for my particular folds and curves. I am not used to where the buttons are for various features, and it took me 20 minutes to figure out how to move the seat close enough to the gas pedal to be able to drive.

You would think I would be happy having an upgrade at my disposal, and I am thankful that I do not have to carpool with Kiel or walk or take a bus. But there is a connection to the familiar that is not easy to overcome. I will be happy when things return to "normal" if there is such a thing.

Homecoming

The vet instructed us to pick up Sugar sometime between 2pm and 7pm. I arranged my lunch to be able to get her at 2. Visions of her alone and scared in a strange place haunted my dreams. Kiel and his girlfriend came to help. I paid the bill and they brought her out. She leapt into my arms, licking my face, whimpering. She was shaking so hard I couldn't get her harness on her. Good thing Kiel was there.

She cried all the way home, struggling into the front seat to sit on my lap while Kiel drove. I carried her up the stairs. She was so happy to be home. We put food out for her, but she wasn't interested in eating. She just wanted to sit in the chair with me. Her stitches are sharp and wiry (she goes back in two weeks to have them removed). Her ears are droopy. She walks funny. Poor little pumpkin!

I remember when my first son was born. I didn't go anywhere without him for six whole months. No baby sitting. If I couldn't take him, we didn't go. Attached at the hip! Then we had to take a trip to set up an apartment at the college where Dan was planning to study. It was going to be a long drive and hard work unpacking at the other end. We borrowed a pickup truck and decided to leave DJ with Gramma.

I fussed for a long time with instructions and making sure Gramma knew all the little things that would make DJ happy. When we finally left, I cried for the first whole hour. Once we arrived, it was easy to keep busy unloading and arranging. We finished quite late at night, and had planned to spend the night in the new apartment, but I just couldn't stand to be separated from DJ one more minute.

I was sure he was unhappy, crying, miserable without me. So, as exhausted as we were, we headed back towards home, driving most of the night to get there, a grueling sleepless and anxious night.

Would you believe when we finally got there, DJ was happy as a clam. He hadn't missed me at all! No trouble getting him to eat or sleep. I could have left him a week and he wouldn't have minded. Imagine that! Certainly takes the starch out of your ego. Still, he seemed quite pleased to be back in his own place, tucked safely in his own crib, so unaware that his familiar world was about to change radically.

Life is fraught with change. People and places come and go. As for me, I hang on to the Rock of my salvation, the only dependable enduring entity in my life, knowing that constancy will come with my own final homecoming. Then at last I will be where I belong and where everything is familiar and comfortable. I just hope I will not cry, squirm or wriggle on the way there, like Sugar!

Sugarless

Sugar and I arose with the morning sun as usual and took our morning constitutional. But there the similarity with our morning routine ended. Sugar was not allowed to eat anything. We didn't even go back in the house. I hustled her into the back seat of the car and before she knew what was happening, off we drove to the vets. Her time had come.

I delayed the inevitable as long as I could, using the excuse of cancer and not feeling quite up to snuff. But I could put it off no longer. Sugar must be fixed. Not that she's broken, mind you. But at 6 months, one is supposed to intervene with nature's normal course and prevent anything resembling more puppies from occurring.

We arrived on that gray drizzly morning with four or five other surgery patients and checked in. Sugar was quite excited about visiting with other canines, not realizing what was about to happen. Her first clue was when the assistant appeared with a blue and white choke collar leash and snapped it smartly over her head. Suddenly Sugar stopped playing and began struggling against the leash.

She turned and looked at me with wild eyes, as if to say, "No! No! Don't let them take me!" I figured the best defense was a hasty retreat. The house was oddly silent and still for the rest of the day. No jumping, licking, squirming puppy to greet me at the door when I came home for lunch. No door scratching begging after dinner. No wriggly reticent ball of fur to tuck into her tent bed at night.

How amazing that in a few short months Sugar has so worked her way into our lives and hearts! Who would have thought? She comes home tomorrow anew woman. I can't wait.

The Future Now

Tonight I attended a lecture by Jeremy Begbie, one of my favorite authors. Not someone most people would get excited about, but he speaks of music, how the church got where it is musically speaking, what the ramifications of that are. I have yet to completely digest what he expounds, for it is comprehensive, complex, and multifaceted.



I first discovered his book Theology, Music, and Time about three years ago. Finally I was reading things I had suspected for a long time but had never heard justification for. Recently, I began reading his ReSounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music. While the waters are still muddy, I am bumping into new chunks of thought worth pursuing.



Dr. Begbie is the Thomas A Langford Research Professor of Theology at Duke Divinity School, and has taught in Scotland (his native country) and England at the prestigious institutions there. His topic tonight, as the featured speaker of the Houghton College Woolsey Lectures in Theology and Culture, was "Music and Emotion in Worship: Anything to Fear?"



While somehow the title gave the impression that he would add conversation to the debate surrounding contemporary and traditional worship (and to some extent, he did address the difference between kitsch and culture), he spoke about setting a higher standard for Christianity in regard to creation of art and composition of musics.



It is his contention that Christians should bring the future God promises aka Revelation 21 into our world now. He outlined 5 ways in which that can be accomplished and provided many Scriptural examples of each: through the enrichment of diversity, through insane inversion of cultural norms, through piercing exposure of the worst, through depiction of divine excess, and through the use of non-order, the interplay between the regular and the irregular.

He contends that the New Creation will be far superior to the Garden of Eden - on beyond paradise. We can begin with that amazing future, and with the Holy Spirit's assistance recreate glimpses of such in our world and in us, following Jesus as our prototype. He gave numerous examples of compositions that portray these characteristics. All in all, an intriguing evening, seeing as he is a personable, witty and engaging speaker as well as a thought provoking writer.

I will spend some time over the next few weeks exploring the works he referenced in his talk, checking out his theories, seeing how that applies to my own work. Interesting.

Electronic Mahem

I give up. This seems to be the week that all my gadgets and necessary technologies are down. My car has a bashed in trunk, compliments of a pick up truck with a very big trailer hitch backing into me, my phone suddenly decided not to connect to the internet, my laptop refuses to turn on! I guess I am lucky the toaster is still working - sort of.



I am glad these things didn't go down while I was still not up to dealing with them, but its such a nuisance to have to track down every avenue of repair. I ended up sending the laptop back to the factory and the car will be in the shop for an entire week. As for the phone, well, we won't go there.



You don't realize how dependent you have become on all these props and equipment until they are not working. Suddenly you realize that you have become quite dysfunctional and you end up spending a lot more time taking care of the little daily tasks and chores.



Of course, we haven't watched TV since the switch to digital (I checked my TV for adaptability, and got the message "your - ahem- antique does not compute. Time to upgrade your set." Rather than upgrade, I simply find other things to do. We do watch dvd's and videos via the "antique" but I find it refreshing not to get caught up in all that advertising. I do miss a few shows that I liked, but I'll catch up with them when they come out on dvd.



I am guessing the planets will realign and all my tools will return in good working order. Either that or I will learn to cope. Ah, well. At least my running water doesn't require me to do the running.

Cluster Choir

Imagine, if you will, one hundred and thirty singers coming together in one choir. Add in a trumpet and piano, sprinkle a bit of flute and a host of great music, and voila! You have cluster choir.

We began rehearsing at 3 pm for the individual choirs, then the entire group of seven choirs worked on three pieces to sing collectively. We worked from 4 pm to 5:30, honing the pronunciation, making sure the music slowed and sped up in the right places, keeping our dynamics appropriate and our cut offs clean.

The wash of sound from a large choir is wonderful. There is a synergy that happens with so many people involved. The crescendos are amazing - gives you goose bumps. The soft parts are incredible. We sang Craig Courtney's "One Faith, One Hope, One Lord," William Billings "Kittery." (The Lord's Prayer) and "Here's One," a spiritual arranged by Tom Fettke.

Our choir sang "Lamb of God" by Ken Kosche (one of my teachers at Concordia - a delightful piece), and Borning Cry by John Yvlisaker. Each of the other choirs also sang two selections - what a wonderful variety of styles and moods! I soon lost my concerns about things moving along smoothly and simply wrapped up in the music.

This year, our offering went to benefit Aurora House, a new hospice organization on the west side of Rochester. The director and founder came to tell us about her vision becoming a reality. I am happy we were able to share great music and help a worthy cause in the process.

The big plus was that I accomplished a 12 hour day and didn't feel completely undone. Tired, yes. And I will admit that I was a bit shaky conducting the last two pieces. But all in all, a nice stretch for me, and good to know I am able to endure longer days.

Seminary Retreat

Every year, the entire community of the seminary I attend gathers together for spiritual renewal, coming aside from life's demands to quiet ourselves before God and listen to him. It is always a precious time.

This year, I came with my own agenda. Yes, I wanted to grow spiritually, but I also wanted to come before the Lord to thank him for his sturdy and dependable support, gracious provision, and overwhelming love throughout the last six months as I walked through the valley of the shadow of cancer.

I was a bit impatient while others walked through the discipline of quieting themselves and bringing themselves to a place of rest and peace. After all, I have been sitting quietly on the sidelines for months and have not been caught up in the hectic hustle bustle of life's demanding schedule. I have not had deadlines hanging over my head. I have been excused from all that. Granted, my work has been just as serious if not more so, but paced much differently.

At last we were released to find a quiet place and just spend time in prayer. I knew exactly where to go - the highest place in the center of the balcony of the sanctuary of Pearce Memorial Church as I could go, as near to heaven as one can easily attain in a few minutes. This was my special time to tell the Lord how thankful I am, how much I appreciate and love him.

But I was also depleted of energy. I took a deep breath, and apologized to the Lord for not kneeling before him as I longed to do. I lay down on the cushioned pew, cradling my head against two hymnals and covered up with my shawl. I closed my eyes until I was centered, then opened them.

As I looked up, I smiled. The ceiling in the sanctuary is built of huge, thick, arching beams of wood supporting the white panels from which the lights are suspended. I felt like I was in an ark! Noah's Ark. And I wondered at the thought that God's Church is for us here on earth a saving vehicle, a shelter from the storms of life, a place of safety and provision that cares for all alike.

Yes. That is how it has been. I have been borne along for months, safely sequestered in the shelter created by God to keep me from the tsunami of cancer. Tears of gratitude slide down my face as I thank God for his care, for his church, for his loving provision. He understands what I want to say even though I am not very gifted at expressing the fullness of my heart before him.

I imagine he is smiling and wonder if he hears his children's appreciation expressed very often. I should have been thanking him all along, and I did a bit. I think of the story of the ten lepers that Jesus healed, and of the one that returned to say thank you. I want to be counted as another who remembered to say thank you.

The day brought forth much encouragement and contemplation about the beauty of God's creation and how our souls crave that beauty. About dreaming the dreams God has for us and being bold enough to follow the dream in faith. I am challenged anew to continue forward with Jairus House, with bringing cups of cold water to the thirsty, to those battling cancer. How their souls need the beauty of God's world to surround them during ugly times. Yes, the work is important.

I leave the retreat tired but not discouraged. There is a dream to fulfill. I wait for God's timing with joy.

Slipping Away

Friday the 13th. People sometimes associate such a day with bad luck, but the number 13 has been a fortunate number for me. I was born on the 13th, as were two of my sons. Perhaps it is just my imagination, but Fridays that are on the 13th day of the month have always felt like especially good days to me.

Today, as I go about the tasks of living, I can feel the blackness of the last six months sliding away into a memory. I no longer retain that vivid awareness of standing on the precipice between life and death, no longer sense the immediate possibility of sliding into that chasm that separates our reality from heaven's. I feel as if I have turned a corner, that I am no longer in limbo, waiting while the battle rages. Today I am done with the battling and moving on with restoration and life.

Oh, I realize that I am not quite beyond the reach of serious trouble healthwise, but the possibility is receding that the grim reaper will grab me by the ankle and pull me in. Morbid thoughts come to visit less frequently these days and the call of activities in this realm draw me forward.

After my last bout of cancer, I remember reaching this same point of release and saying to a friend "That wasn't so bad, really." He looked at me as if I were daft and responded, "Yes, it was." He spoke the truth. What I had been through back in 2005, and what I have endured now in 2009 have not been pleasant. It has been brutal, taxing to the max, painful, pressing, and downright nasty.

What I think I was expressing then, and what I definitely feel today, is that although the physical part of dealing with cancer is awful, the love and support I have experienced both times has been phenomenal. The caring made the crying endurable. And from that respect, if you have to go through crap, you might as well go through it cushioned in love. At least then, looking back, you see ugliness entwined with beauty. And that is not so bad.

Grace of God, Body of Christ.

Frosting

I stared out the kitchen window into the early morning darkness, trying to get a sense of the outdoors temperature while Drew was rousing from a sound sleep. Yes, the car windows are frozen white with a hard frost. He will need at least a hoodie. Thank goodness the school requires long pants now, or I am sure he would try to get away with shorts year round!

Later, when I took Sugar for a walk, donned in black corduroy pants and lined trench coat, the world lay silent and chill. House roofs, grass, bushes, windows - all wore a white covering of frost. My breath hung in front of my face in little cloud puffs. Sugar tiptoed gingerly on the frosted grass, not sure if she could manage her usual morning excretions.

What a contrast to the warm sun of just a few days ago. Now I must sit in the car and wait until the windows clear and I can see to drive. I trace patterns in the lacy frost on the windshield. When the sun hits, diamonds practically leap off the glass, bursting to be seen and admired. I smile as fingerprints and nose prints where boys have left their invisible mark inside my car suddenly become visible.

I wind the windows down and laugh as the frost peels off, tumbling in little sheets to the edge of the glass. The heater is now making little dents in the thick frost and I ruthlessly turn the wipers loose to wreck damage on the whiteness. Soon enough, I will be chipping snow and ice from the windshield. I am happy to play with the frost for awhile despite the shivers that lock my shoulders to my ears.

I see the blanket of whiteness shrouding the roofs and grass through little peep holes in the car windows. I wonder if that is how babies see the world - a tiny bit at a time as the frosting of womb melts away. Perhaps. Perhaps it is also the way those passing from this world to the next see heaven! Someday I will find out, but not today. Today I must hurry or I will be late for work!

Begone, cold frost. Melt away. Let the warmth of summer stay another day.

Elevensies

In England, elevensies refers to that delightful custom of taking tea and crumpets at 11:00 am! Or if you are a hobbit, one of numerous daily meals scattered throughout the day.

My sons have a different take on the word. For them, especially today, it refers to that peculiar lining up of strings of the number 11. So today is 11/11 and the striking hours fall at 11:11 am and 11:11 pm, times during which they stopped to pray and thank God for his goodness. If you really want to be serious about it, you add in the seconds time of :11. I think I heard mention of prayers for peace especially at the pm time when darkness engulfs the world.

I like their thinking. I suspect that in the year 2011, they will be in seventh heaven at the specified times on this day. Happy elevensies.

Fluffed and Folded

I just couldn't keep up with the necessary brushing of Sugar's long fine coat while I was under the influence of cancer treatment. Her nails click loudly against the linoleum in the kitchen, and she is constantly biting chunks of matted fur from her legs. She had baths from the boys, but the poor thing is in need of a thorough grooming - far more than I am capable of. And soon since she has an appointment with the vet to be "altered" and I need to trim away the fur so they can work unhindered.

What to do? I asked around of other dog owners. Many of them do not take their dogs in for grooming. The one couple who does could not recommend any of the places they have tried. The last time they had their dog groomed, she ended up with an ear infection from careless grooming.

I try the phone book. They all have clever names like Shampoodle or Beauty and the Beast. I fear their service might be as ridiculous as their names. I avoid large chain stores as I have seen their assembly line approach and Sugar will not do well with that. I finally find one that has a sensible name, a small ad, and a statement of certification. I call.


The woman who answers is pleasant and immediately understands my angst since neither Sugar nor I have ever done this before. She is very reassuring. Still. Sugar gets so excited around people, I wonder if they will be able to do what is needed in one appointment. I read that the first time you try to clip a dog's nails, you should only do as many as the dog is comfortable with and not press to get them all done.


We arrive at the appointed time, and a pleasant woman greets us both. Sugar immediately jumps about, excited to meet someone new. I fill out the paperwork, and then hand over the leash. Yikes! It will take a couple of hours. I leave, feeling a bit like a traitor having abandoned my baby.

I take care of errands, waiting for the call, which finally comes. Sugar is all ready. Come get her. I enter the door, and Sugar appears, all trim and skinny. I can actually see her eyes! She is wearing an adorable little bandanna, and acting all frisky and happy. They not only cut her hair and shampooed her, they trimmed all her nails, brushed her teeth and a million other little things. Wow!


I struggled to put her harness on her so I could take her to the car. Sugar bounced around and refused to sit. The groomer offered to help. The minute she touched Sugar, Sugar sat still like a good girl. How embarrassing! But I am delighted to know she likes being groomed. They gave her a pink stuffed bone on the way out for behaving so well. Whew!


Now if I could just find someone to do the boys . . .

Indian Summer

It must be June! A balmy 70 degrees this afternoon. The sky is preening with vivid shades of clear blue. I shed my coat and sweater and make up a reason to take a short walk.

Despite the naked trees it is pleasant being outdoors. The grass is still a vibrant green if littered with rusty leaves. The sun warms my cheeks (though not my head since my plastic wig does not seem to absorb the warmth of the sun!). There are colorful mums planted here and there, splotches of bright yellows and deep purples. Birds sing everywhere in all keys and rhythms. I long to find a quiet bench and sit soaking up this last hurrah of warm weather before we truly are locked in winter's embrace.

But I cannot. I lallygagged as long as I could after my port draw, but alas! I have a planning meeting at the library and I must get going. Good bye, sweet Indian summer. Your stay is too fleeting, your joy so quickly withdrawn.

Cluster Choir Rehearsal

This year, our church is hosting the annual Festival of Choirs for the United Methodist Churches on the west side of Rochester. I thought about declining because of my health, but decided to try. If I wasn't able, I arranged plan "B" but it gave me a goal to work towards. I have picked and poked at trying to pull the event together. Information about the many pieces is scant and since I have not been involved for very long, I have to ask a million questions.

One thing I do know, I have not had enough time to make sure the music is comfortable for my own choir, much less six other choirs. I ask for a special rehearsal session, and everyone agrees to come this afternoon and work on the music. I am grateful for the time. In fact, I had thought we could also look at the soon upcoming Christmas cantata as well.

There are five pieces of music, and we have performed four of them in the past. That really only leaves one new piece to work on. We start with the familiar, but it has been awhile since we sang them, and I really want all the t's crossed and the i's dotted. We work hard, using various drills and patterns to keep us on track, to help us sing as a whole.

The time slips away. We at least get to work on the new piece, but the Christmas cantata will have to wait. I am encouraged, both because the choir is sounding better, and because I was up and active for six hours straight non-stop, and although a bit shaky and tired, it is not the absolute exhausted-going-to-bed-for-the-night kind of tired. Yeah! I am gaining. It feels good.

No Concert For You

Saturday. So much to do - shopping, laundry, cleaning. In the back of my mind, I was toying with the idea of going to hear the RPO. A young this year's winner Van Cliburn pianist named Haochen Zhang was being featured. Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto #1. Sounded wonderful. I would really like to go if I have the energy.

I began with shopping. I had taken money from my Christmas account to begin my Christmas shopping. What a marvelous time I had finding the items on my list. All year long, everytime someone said, "I really like that!" or "Isn't that beautiful!" I wrote it down on my list. Now, instead of tearing my hair out trying to think what will make someone happy, all I have to do is find things!

How tiring it is to walk around in a department store sleuthing out just the right size, color, style, version. Even with a list, I must have walked through the same department a million times. Weary, I climb back into the car with my prize packages, and head for the nearest fast food place to quench my parched throat. Half the day spent, and I have only accomplished one small task for the day. And really, not even that since I had not yet shopped for groceries.

Drew's friend calls and wants him to come visit. He asks if I can drive him there, and they would bring him back. I sigh. I know if I do this, there will be no energy left. No cleaning. No laundry. Just being home and resting. And certainly no concert.

It doesn't take much contemplation. I look in his eyes. I see the buoyancy of youth, the bright hope, the joy that will be his. I know the importance of friends. Friends take time. I know this is a gift I will give him. He will not know. But that's OK. As we drive to Webster, the sun is shining. Drew chatters away happily, sharing bits and pieces of himself unreservedly. It is his gift to me. He may not know, but I do.

We find the house, and he bounces out of the car, grabbing his back pack and waving to his friend. Then he turns back and leans in the passenger side car window. He looks me straight in the eyes and says, with great meaning, "Thanks, Mom." He does know. I smile and wave him off. It has been a good day. The laundry will wait.

Grace Applied

The house is a disaster. There is not one clean dish in the cupboard. The laundry has not been done in two weeks. Sugar shredded 5 or 6 boxes and the living room floor is littered with cardboard pieces. No one has vacuumed. I arrive home from work and know I cannot do anything about it today. I sigh. Tomorrow. I will have the energy to clean tomorrow. I sit in the recliner and try not to look at the stacks needing attention.

Kiel comes home. I do not expect him to be aware of how bad things are. He has his assignments, his friends, his teaching preparation. And he has not been feeling well. I am sure he will drop off stuff and head out again. But he doesn't. I do not ask him to clean, but he digs in. First the kitchen and those piles of dirty dishes. Then the living room. Drew arrives midstream and gets assigned laundry which he managed to take care of even if without great enthusiasm.

You cannot imagine what a boost that was to my being. Best of all, I had mentioned to a co worker that my weekend plans were to clean the house which was a wreck, and she called half way through the boys activity to offer her services as well. I was so touched that despite her hectic schedule she would be willing to devote time to fixing a messy household!

I sat back in the chair, sipped my chamomile tea, closed my eyes, and thanked the good Lord for all the grace flowing in my direction. What an amazing Friday! Not a bad way to end a long, strenuous week.

I Win!

Every year Roberts has a benefits fair. Its usually around the lunch hour, and you can reapply for flex spending accounts or add someone to your insurance plan or change what you are enrolled in.

There are also representatives from local banks, health programs, and the college bookstore. Every table has some sort of drawing with a prize, and there are also food tables with apples and cookies and other goodies. Most tables also have some sort of swag with their logo - last year I got a wonderful little sewing kit, the year before a first aid kit to keep in my desk drawer.

This year, I wasn't sure I would be able to walk clear over to the cultural life center, and I saved it for the end of my time on campus. I got there OK and took the elevator to the atrium. It was nice to see the familiar faces of friends in HR, and we chatted a bit while I picked up my enrollment forms. I wandered from table to table, signing up for the drawings and picking up a few freebies - a new squishy hand exercising blue foam star, a pen, a bottle of water.

I thought about the free chair massage, but there was always someone there, and I was tiring, so I passed. I managed to get as far as the elevator before rubber legs hit, but it wasn't the kind of tired that meant I had to sit immediately or fall over. I ambled slowly in the direction of the parking lot, and sank gratefully into the car seat, resting before attempting the drive home.

I didn't think much about the benefits fair until someone told me I had won one of the drawings - the one from the bookstore! I was so surprised - I don't often win door prizes. This was a lovely red water bottle with the RWC logo on it. I could feel my luck turning. No more tough breaks for me. No sir. I plan to keep up the winning streak! Why shouldn't I enjoy some good? I am done with the bad things. Time to get back to enjoying life. After all, goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life. I'll take it!

Work Schedule

Last week I made myself work four hours a day. By the time I completed a half day, I was more than ready to get home and collapse. Often I would get that rubber leg shaky feeling. This week I have pushed to work five hours a day. I still have to go home and just rest before retiring early, but I manage the five hours OK. There is no energy left to deal with house needs or errands.

The boys have let go of the helping part, assuming that since treatments are done, I am well. I ignore the piles of laundry and dishes, looking the other way. I cannot ask them to keep helping in addition to their studies and extracurricular activities. They deserve freedom to return to normal. I will just have to wait until the weekend and apply the four hours of work time to the dishes.
I only hope I can hold out that long! (Please God don't let the inspector general pay any surprise visits!)

Early to Bed

These days I find I have to get about ten hours of sleep. If I expect to be able to go to work, I have to hit the sheets early. Somewhere around 8:00 pm I start wrapping it up, brush my teeth, wriggle into my nightgown, fill the hotwater bottle, and fall exhausted into bed.

I sleep soundly for at least three or four hours, after which any noise the boys are still producing wakes me momentarily. I am grumpy if awakened, and grouse out loud about reasonable behavior of students and getting lights out and being quiet.

It is an unnatural sleep. Dreams are weird if realistic and leave one trying to remember if things really happened or if they were only figments of chemo / radiation induced coma sleeping. Sometimes I find myself dreaming that I am going to the bathroom only to awaken and find that I have. Rats.

This is not a reversion to baby days. If it were, I would be able to take short naps throughout the day. But I cannot. Sometimes my muscles cramp so hard I am jerked out of a deep sleep and have to jump to an upright position to keep my legs from spasming.

It is just a phase, I tell myself. Another wrinkle of recovery. It will eventually calm down. No need to rush out and get more Pampers. I will be glad when it passes. I would hate to think that I will waste so much time sleeping for the rest of my time here on God's green earth!

More Bloodwork

Every Monday I have labwork done to check my levels and make sure nothing has dropped to an unacceptable level. Today the nurse asked me how I was feeling, and I mentioned that I am quite tired and that my mouth is so dry that I wake up in the night with my throat stuck to itself. I can barely speak for the dryness and carry a bottle of water around, sipping constantly.

She laughed and said those are the two most common complaints of people who have been given Bexxar! Well, at least I am on track and these are not rogue symptoms. She explained that she was still getting to know about Bexxar side effects because so few people have it that it takes a long time to know what the norms are.

She also said that the full effects on my immune system would not appear until 6 to 9 weeks after the last injection! Yikes! That means I continue to be at risk until well after Thanksgiving. There go any plans to visit Mom and Dad. Things can go sour quickly, and I need to be where I can get help if I need it - and by help one means possible blood transfusions.

It was a bit of a shock, but at least I know what to look for. Meanwhile, I stay on the antiviral prescriptions and the stomach meds. I figure if it takes 6 months of treatment, it will take at least 6 months of recovery. I am just thankful I am on the up side of it all.

Choral Tribute

Richard Gladwell hosted a national radio program called With Heart and Voice, a show of choral and organ music, for more than three decades. He passed away in October from brain cancer, and today there was a service in his honor filled with excellent music.

The sanctuary was crowded almost to capacity. Latercomers were hard pressed to find a seat. Before the service began, a brass ensemble played, followed by Madrigalia, a select choral ensemble. What peaceful music saturated the air.

The service itself was an Evensong, and the musical portions all well known selections of comfort for those who were close to the departed, such as Sir Hubert Parry’s I Was Glad, How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place from the Brahms Requiem, Steal Away as sung by Jessye Norman, John Rutter’s Requiem and hymns by Stanford and Vaughan Williams - all music Mr. Gladwell appreciated and loved.

Evensong is a late afternoon, early evening service that is mostly choral music, appropriate for Mr. Gladwell since he was of British heritage and such services are common in England.

Though I never met Mr. Gladwell, my heart was deeply touched by the choral music presented in his honor and memory. There is something universal about music, particularly church music that has withstood the test of time and is in some way uplifting at times of sorrow and loss, reminders that there is a reality beyond our world against which one brushes when honoring a loved one who has been translated into the realm beyond our knowing.

It is comforting to know that the best of his radio programs will be kept at the Library of Congress for future generations to enjoy. I look forward to the time when they are made available online and plan to listen to many of them.