Kidney Stones

Drat and bother. I get these kidney stone attacks about every 5 or 6 years. I am right on schedule. The pain started right after Christmas, but I knew just how to layer Tylenol and Advil to control the pain, plus hugging a hot water bottle helps tremendously. As long as you keep on top of it and drink gallons of water, you can stay ahead of the game.

Of all the things to have been blessed with from my father, this would not have been my first choice. I will hang on until the holidays are over, then call my primary because I don't even have a urologist in this area yet. Meanwhile, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink . . .

12 Days of Christmas

On each day of Christmas, the gift I gave to Christ was ~

1 heartfelt prayer (for world peace)
2 bags of food (for the food pantry)
3 handmade scarves (for the needy children in downtown Rochester)
4 prayer quilts (given to children in the hospital)
5 shoebox gifts (for poor children around the world)
6 volunteer hours (in the soup kitchen)
7 packs of tampons (for the women’s shelter)
8 quiet moments (with those who are grieving)
9 Christmas carols (sung in the nursing home)
10 pairs of socks (for the men’s shelter)
11 lighted candles (in memory of loved ones)
12 hands held (in the cancer support group)

May God be pleased with such as these.

Catching Up

There are certain members of my family that I have not spoken to for awhile because I know that once we start talking, it will be a 4 hour conversation. I always feel badly when I see their number come up on my phone and I ignore it. It's nothing personal, just that I rarely have time and energy at once to handle a 4 hour conversation, as enticing as the idea may be.

Once again I find myself reduced to determining the "when" for these activities, and I have decided that this lull between semesters is an excellent time to catch up with my siblings. Each day I determine to call one person and talk as long as they want to. I clear the time with them ahead of the day so that they will also have a clear calendar to chat with no interruptions.

I set up with a glass of water, a box of tissues and an empty bladder. I call the number. We are delighted to hear each other's voices. We have no difficulty plunging in to a prolonged conversation. This works quite well. I loved catching up with news and chewing on philosophical issues and discussing the touchy politics and religion topics. It was wonderful.

Now all I need are a few more between semester breaks!

More Reading

The point of all this reading is to absorb and comprehend the material. I have not been taking notes because that would mean that I would double the amount of time it is taking to read it in the first place! But now I wish I had done that because in writing papers, when I have to synthesize the materials from a dozen sources, it gets quite confusing! Particularly these dense treatises.

I fall back on my tried and true method of making skim notes. Enter the headings and chapter titles from the table of contents and insert one or two lines to summarize each section or chapter. At least it gives me guidance about where to investigate certain subject areas and where to poke for relevant quotes. Sigh. If I just had a lifetime to really grasp and wrestle with these concepts, I could speak more intelligently about them. But then, I guess that is what a doctoral program forces you to do. Must be I am on target.

Mammogram

I have been putting this off. Now I realize that I need to take care of it before my insurance clock is reset and I am back to paying the first $2600 out of my own pocket. It is easy to make the appointment. This is definitely the off season for following up on health care issues. I drive to the clinic with sadness. It is difficult to face more tests where cancer might rear its ugly head. I have no reason to think that, but the thought comes unbidden.

The women working there are wonderful and kind. They know I have cancer elsewhere in my body, so they are thorough and careful. They are pulling for me to have a normal reading. They ask if I want to wait for the results, but I decline. If there is something wrong, I have every confidence that they will not hesitate to let me know. Until such a possibility comes along, I prefer to assume that all is well.

The nurse nods, understanding. She tells me that they will send me and my doctors a letter in a week to ten days unless there is some concern. Then she makes no bones to tell me that although she is not a doctor, the scans look perfectly normal to her and she has been looking at these things for years. She gives my shoulders a squeeze hug and wishes me a Happy New Year. I smile. Kindness is everywhere. I appreciate her frankness and openness. One more health issue taken care of. Back to reading and not thinking about cancer.

Reading

I am woefully behind in my reading for seminary courses. One of this semester's classes is heavy in philosophy and theological foundations. The readings are deep and complicated. You cannot just zip through skimming for big ideas. All the big ideas are packed tightly into a scant three or four hundred pages of deep rhetoric. Sigh. It is slow going. I count books. I need to basically read one book every day for the entire break. This will be challenging since some of the books, though only 300 or 400 pages, are dense.

I joke about reading until my eyes bleed. The truth is that after 2 or 3 hours of reading, I have trouble focusing on the print. They definitely used to use a very small font in days goneby (from which many of these dusty tombs come). I switch things up. I read a chapter, then do a load of laundry, then read another chapter, counting the pages, then do dishes, then read a chapter (can it be any more incomprehensible???) then walk Sugar. By evening I am so burned out I watch a mindless movie just for the change of pace. And this is only day 1. I eyeball the stack of waiting books and groan. Some holiday. Drew at least gets to sleep until noon!

Christmas Poem

The Comforts of Home

I am going home.
It seems so far away.
I started down this path – was it only yesterday?

The road ahead is dark.
I cannot see the way.
If I’m still on the path, I cannot really say.

Then I look at where I’ve been
Through places dark and bright.
I’ve never been alone, even through the darkest night.

No matter what I face
How steep or rough the road
You’re always by my side to lift my heavy load.

You light my darkest night
And show me where to go
You give me strength and help, teach me all I need to know.

And so I travel on
Through places thick and thin
Knowing you will guide me beyond the mess I’m in.

When I reach home at last
And am welcomed through the door,
You’ll be waiting arms outstretched to show me even more.

Christmas Eve Services

There are two services at the church where I direct choirs. The first one is family friendly and has special music provided by our accompanist and her son. I want to go, but I know if I do I will not have the energy to play for the second service - our accompanist and her son will not be able to stay for this second adult service. Besides, our choir sings at the second service. So I stay home to rest and only leave in time to practice for the second service.

It is a lovely service. True, some of our choir members are not able to join us, but for the first Christmas Eve service with the new pastor, it goes well. It is fairly well attended, lots of new faces to me. I am a bit nervous about playing the prelude and offertory, but Lourdes has loaned me a book of medium difficulty Christmas carols that I can easily play without too much practice and I am confident that I can manage. I think people were blessed.

Afterwards, I climb into the car and head home where Drew takes over the driving part. We go to his church for their 11 pm service. There is something mysterious and enticing about meeting so late at night, knowing the intention is to extend our time together until after midnight so we can wish each other Merry Christmas on Christmas Day. I love the liturgy, the readings, the carols, the company. Best part is that I don't have to lead anything and can really enjoy and enter in without thinking ahead to the next piece. How delicious to spend Christmas worship with friends and family. This is how it should be.

I find myself caught up in the candle light, thankful that no bombs are being dropped on this country, no threat of invasion looms here. We can feel peace and happiness, we can appreciate God's gift of life and light. Music surrounds me, lifts me up. I sit gratefully in a comfortable chair and remember pageants of past days, family gatherings, relatives long since gone to glory. I appreciate the company of the memories of loved ones, amused to find myself one of the grandparent generation now, able to remember people my children never met.

I smile at Drew. He is solicitous of my well being, grinning himself with happiness. He drives home. We are laughing and chatting and wishing each other Merry Christmas. He, of course, want to open a present, and I, of course, let him. It is a good year even if I won't be able to see my grandchildren. I will miss them. Perhaps next year when I am not so weak and tired and when I have a bit more funding, I will make it special for them. This year, I am just happy to be here with Drew and at peace.

Last Minute Shopping

I have been whittling away at my list for the last three weeks. Every pay period allows me to check off someone else. Now I am down to 2 more people and I know exactly what I am planning to get for them. It is just a matter of dredging up the energy to battle the crowds and get these last two items (and then wrap them, of course). I took care of all the out of town presents that require mailing early on, the first round being sent at Thanksgiving time.

Today I am also taking care of getting stocking stuffers for Drew. I have not done a stocking for him for the last few years. It got so expensive. When I was a kid, I got 2 stockings - a HUGE one at my house and a normal sized one at my Grandmother's. Both were intended to keep excited children occupied and at bay while the adults either slept in or prepared the feast. I started doing just the huge stockings at home for the boys when they were young, but it became so expensive to fill them that I gave up.

Poor Drew never had the pleasure for long. Now that he is the only one left in the house, I decided it was time to provide him that experience and joy. Over the last few weeks, I have listened and tracked everything he expressed an interest in while we were out in the stores or while he was putzing around the house. I determined only to get what I could find at the dollar store - the one where everything really is only a dollar a piece. My limit is 20 items. A reasonable amount to spend on junk.

The store was crowded when I entered. Last minute shopping for lots of us I guess. There is a tremendous variety of stuff and I had so much fun wandering up and down the aisles picking out things I knew he would enjoy. From the kitchen aisle a red spatula, a coffee mug, and a white bowl scraper; from the tool aisle a screwdriver set with 20 interchangeable heads; from the toy aisle a transformer cube, a box of crayons and a truck shaped blue eraser. I remembered to get the cheap wrapping paper and a small felt stocking that would never hold all the presents. More fun when it spills out the top.

Lucky for me Drew is visiting with friends, leaving Sugar and I plenty of time to wrap all this stuff and tuck it away out of sight. Imagine the fun my Mom had doing this for 8 children! Makes your spine shiver just thinking about how each gift will bring a delighted smile to someone's face. Sort of like filling the Samaritan's Purse Shoeboxes. Oh what fun it is to wrap a stocking filled with toys!

I have to say though, I am glad the shopping is over for the season. I wish I could start in January and get presents each month - spread the labor out over time. I worry though that somehow by the time Christmas comes, the gift will no longer be appropriate. Guess I'll just have to keep putting up with the last minute scramble.

DeDecorating and Soup

The college asks us to remove all the Christmas decorations before we leave for the holidays. That way, when the students return, there are no lingering reminders of the season past and they can jump into the spring semester with a clear mind. I missed the decorating party, so I am looking forward to the undecorating.

I have a hard time finding the boxes to put all the decor back into, but we finally tuck away every wise man, shepherd, snowflake and ornament. The foldable tree has been restuffed in its container and the lighted bows are packed carefully away. Yes, we have stripped the library clean, even to the collecting of the poinsettia plants which will be given to an assisted living facility.

At last we gather in the break room for the hot soup. We have decided to go easy on the pocketbooks and bring homemade soup and bread so we don't have to order out and spend money. Everyone is happy to enjoy the meal. There is virtually no one in the building and we are definitely winding down. No thought of projects or papers or research or products. Just a comfy relaxed meal with friends and family. A perfect note on which to end the year together. Pass the bread!

Setting It Up

When Drew and I were at the RIT Barnes and Noble, he found an art tube that he really liked. "Can you get this for me for Christmas?" I look at him with skepticism. I will not likely be back here before Christmas, nor will I have time to shop when you are not with me. If I get it now with you here watching, what kind of surprise will that be? My mind races for a solution.

"This is the only one up there." OK. That settles it. I purchase the tube and Drew carries it to the car himself, delighted with the unique skinny bag they wrapped it in. I leave it in the trunk of the car. One night when Drew was out, I snuck the tube into the house and hid it in plain sight in my cedar chest which serves as my coffee table. I am pretty sure he will not look there, but I bury it beneath several blankets just in case.

I decide to send him on a wild goose chase, so I write 3x5 cards with clues on them and tuck the initial clue in an envelope and place it in the branches of the Christmas tree. Drew discovers the envelope marked To Drew From Santa and tries to figure out what's in it. Too small for a gift card. Who is it from? "Not me," I say since Drew basically bought the present for himself. He is stymied.

For days he agonizes about the envelope, curiosity almost getting the better of him. I do not relent. It's good for him to learn patience, though the suffering part is a bit hard not to laugh about. I have tucked the rest of the clues in my underware drawer. I am certain he will not look in there! On Christmas Day, I will have plenty of time to place the clues in their proper place. Drew is unlikely to be up early even if we do plan to go to church!

This is fun! I can't wait to see Drew's reaction.

Advent Chapel

Seminary Chapel for Advent is offered twice this week. It so happens I am meeting with my spiritual mentor one of those days, and I can stay afterwards to attend. What joy! How often does one have the opportunity to worship with a dozen or more pastors!

The chapel is intimate, cozy, filled with comforting icons of things peace-filled, uplifting, Godly. The space invites breathing and slowing down, opening one's heart for things eternal. Especially during what can often be a hectic holiday season, it is important to intentionally slow down and check in with things important. I welcome the time of silence as we gather our thoughts and hearts.

We slowly read Scripture about the coming Christ. We light a candle to remind ourselves that Christ is the light of the world. We sing together - what a rare treat to hear so many men, their deep resonance reverberating off the walls and windows. I stop singing myself just to listen. It's better than my CD of the Seminary men's choir (not from our seminary).

We pray together, for our concerns and joys, for our community, for global issues. My head lifts out of my own situation. In perspective, I have it easy. I give thanks for the goodness of God so evident in my life. We linger there in the presence of God and each other pervaded by the thoughts of others, of the world, of the saving work of the tiny baby who came to relieve the suffering and hardships of all.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. We sing a final hymn and quietly make our way back out into the crazy hectic world from which we stepped aside. We remember those who waited so long for the initial coming of Christ. We join those still waiting. In the midst of the hubbub, we remind ourselves of the return of Christ, a hope we hold dear in these uncertain days.

Empty Library

Wow. With exams complete and graduation over here (same weekend as the one at Concordia) the place is practically empty. Some of our staff have left for home as well. It will be a hard Christmas for some, being the first Christmas after the loss of a parent or a year when a parent or child is struggling with issues of one sort or another.

Those of us still holding down the fort are hard pressed to cover all the bases that students normally cover. We valiantly carry on despite the lack of hands to help. Our decorations shine cheerfully through the windows as we jump into projects that have needed our attention for awhile. We run reports and clean up our database issues and turn things off for the break.

Again this year the institution graciously gives us the week between Christmas and New Year off with pay as a gift. I am grateful for their generosity. While it seems strange not to be teeming with activity, I am happy for a bit of a break. I am just thankful we close at 5 these days and not at 9 pm. Long project packed days in the darkness of winter are less than enticing.

Chime Choir Lunch

The Saints played in service today - a beautiful and moving rendition of What Child Is This. They did a marvelous job including the dramatic ending where we ring our chimes in a certain order and then freeze with our chimes in the air, holding still until the vibrations cease. Then we lower them together slowly. Nice. Very nice.

After service we practiced the piece we will ring in January (we won't get many rehearsals inbetween due to the holidays and people being away, etc.). Then we headed west on Buffalo to a wonderful diner to share a meal together. The hostess put us in a separate room around a large table. How appropriate that the room was decorated with Christmas bells! Conversations were punctuated with laughter and boisterous comments. A delightful way to get to know each other better.

Stories abound about travel to other countries and memories of Christmas from our past. Orders are taken and soon the steaming plates of good food arrive amidst cheery smiles and lip smacking. I ordered the meatloaf and my plate was laden with 2 huge slices of homemade meatloaf covered with ketchup, a mound of mashed potatoes with just the right dollop of gravy, and a dish of cottage cheese - all things I can eat though much more than I will be able to handle today!

My attention alternated between conversations nearby and discussions at the other end of the table. I caught snatches of numerous tales, all of them interesting and memorable. Time just flies by and too soon it is time to head home. I am suddenly exhausted. I clutch my Styrofoam box with a whole other dinner left over from my heaping plate and manage to scoop myself into the car to head out. What a wonderful afternoon filled with friendship and camaraderie! I look forward to our next outing.

Missed It

After 7 long years of persistent poking, I finally managed to complete my Master of Church Music degree. Concert service was in the spring, comprehensive exams and orals accomplished in June, dissertation approved and submitted late summer. At long last I have completed the requirements and earned the degree. Commencement was today.

I had made all the arrangements to go, ordered my gown and hood, filled out the requisite forms. But the closer I got to the date, the more I realized that it wasn't going to happen. My energy levels are not quite where they need to be, I am dealing with 3 more broken teeth, I have had to pay for some unexpected things and my budget is just too tight.

With so many potential roadblocks, I just didn't have the oomph to undertake the journey. Seems to be my MO. I missed my graduation for my Master of Library Science degree too - well I should say I attended that virtually. Still, its not the same as being there.

Reluctantly I emailed my advisers and told them I would not be coming. They both sent encouraging emails of support and asked me to stay in touch, which I will. I suppose the ceremony is sort of anti-climactic in a way because the real work, the continued planning of the dvd for cancer patients puts to use much of what I have learned and experienced during my program.


Instead, I spent the day at home resting and spending time with Drew. We did mail a box to North Carolina for Christmas but other than that, just took it easy. I was supposed to see the dentist, but he cancelled. Just as well. I am not up to having bare roots pulled out of my head today.

Christmas Cards

Addressing Christmas cards is a humbling and enlightening experience. Humbling because you suddenly realize how blessed you are to have friends and family and how fortunate you are to have time, energy, and resources to participate in this activity of connection. Enlightening because you find that people have moved or gotten married or had some change happen that affects your address book in some major way.

I sat in the chair by the lighted Christmas tree with Sugar curled up at my feet. Gathered about me were boxes of cards, address labels (with snowmen and elves and ornament designs) and stamps (the Nativity one this year). First I made out cards to my family. That took half a box. Then to friends. By the time I had finished, I was humming Christmas carols. Yes, the season this year is shaping up nicely despite the financial crunch. Now all I need is a nutmeggy cup of eggnog.

Winding Down

We all thought that the Library would be basically empty today and that the semester would gradually wind down. Sure, we expected a handful of students finishing papers and studying for that one last exam tomorrow. Instead, the place is packed. We seem to be running full tilt.

There is a lot of chatter and conversation and energy. Groups are studying for exams, papers are visible on monitors, the printers are pushing out reams of paper and the coffee is flowing freely. all the spaces are filled and then some. Lone students wander about seeking a place to settle in.

It seems to get busier the later in the day we are. If today is so busy, I can't imagine what tomorrow will bring. And here I thought I would have no trouble parking! Guess again.

Packed Day

I didn't plan it this way. It sort of happened. My calendar tells me that I have commitments from 8 in the morning until after 9 at night. And they are constant. I wonder if I shall have time in there to sip a bit of tea or take a breath!

This is one of those days when I begin with "Lord, I cannot do this" and end with "Thank you God for getting me through it all without falling apart." Everything I am doing is enjoyable on its own. But the amalgamation of it all is overwhelming. I never know if I will have enough strength to keep going. Somehow I always do, but I am clearly aware that it is not my doing that gets me through.

My parents tell me that after retirement their schedules got busier and busier. I hope that will not be the case for me (not that I plan to retire). I am learning now to build space into my schedule so I do not wear myself to a frazzle. Most of the time that works fine. Except for days like today when my life seems to be controlled by others. Lord protect us from the tyranny of the daytimer.

Rose Miscarriage

With all the warm weather we have been having, the sturdy rose bush by our front door decided to send out another blossom. A tiny rosebud appeared the other day, developing into a deep pink blushing promise of yet another gorgeous flower. I was concerned the moment I saw it. How can it hope to last if the winter weather comes? It is out of sync with time. But I hope with it. I hope for it.

But alas! The night temperature drops and the poor little rosebud does not open. It stays tightly folded, hanging on for dear life against the frigid air. It will not open. It will remain forever a bud, like some miscarriage of the natural order of things. I know these things happen. But I am saddened at the loss, at what will never be. I stand long moments before its shriveled pinkness, sorry to see it cut down before it began.

Like so many women, I have been touched by the sadness of miscarriage. I think of it from time to time, of what might have been. I share this experience with women across time and cultures, a bond that needs no words to forge, a tinge of sorrow that colors our lives in many unnoticed ways, forming us, shaping our response to the hurts of this life. Though my event was many years ago, the effect lingers.

Perhaps that is why I notice such things as tiny rosebuds that never see the light of the sun and stop to appreciate what might have been.

Poinsettias

I forgot that after the Christmas brunch the flowers that decorated the tables in Garlock so festively come to the library. What a delightful lift of spirits to see all the bright red and soft white plants wrapped in their gold and green foil pots.

We had put up the library Christmas tree, nativity, big red bows, and huge lighted wreath back at Thanksgiving time. And those decorations always look grand, especially when you view the lighted tree housed in the Fireside Reading Room from out in the parking lot.


But the flowers add just that much more festivity to the place. I don't know if the students are aware of it, or even the rest of the staff. But I sure appreciate these plants and the cheerful countenance they present. It makes me want to greet everyone with a joyful "Merry Christmas."

Christmas Cantata

Today is the day the choir will sing our Christmas cantata. People are a bit nervous. Despite our extra rehearsal, they have that that "if only we had one or two more rehearsals, we would know it better" feeling. I often have felt that way when I was singing with a choir. You never think you have had enough time with the music - unless its something you have sung repeatedly in the past. And it has been some number of years since the choir has done this cantata.

The whole service revolves around hearing what they angels were singing about. We bookend our cantata with Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Angels We Have Heard On High. A sort of 'listen up' then 'did you hear?' The cantata went very well, especially the men's piece. Lots of congregation members told me they truly enjoyed it, and that it sent shivers down their spines. I think the choir is relieved that it is over.

Truly, the best part for me is that this music is whirling around inside, lifting up my spirits and bringing joy. I think it will stay with me for some time.

Christmas Brunch

Drew has been asking about the date for the annual Roberts Christmas Brunch. The first year I had to practically force him to go. Now he can hardly wait. He loves the whole event from the delicious food (especially the canolis) to the family Christmas picture taking to chatting with all the people he has come to know. And then there is the free Roberts tee shirt - this year a pretty cheerful blue.

We turn in our mittens for those who have none, fill in our name tags, and head for the serving line. I love the Belgian waffles with toppings. Drew prefers the bacon and eggs. The best part is bumping into friends and colleagues and chatting. We linger over our plates, watching the line for the photo taking. Drew is wearing his Angry Birds hat and gets lots of comments. He plans to wear it for our picture, posing with his arms crossed and his attitude showing.

Time flies by. We miss some people who have not been able to come, and meet others we did not expect to see. 2 hours is a short time to fellowship with family, but totally worth it to see the big grin on Drew's face. As we leave Garlock, he is singing a Christmas carol. I do believe he has caught the Christmas spirit!

FedEx Dud

Mom had embroidered 2 angel squares that did not fit in my wall hanging. I decided to add some calligraphy to each of them and have them framed for my 2 grand daughters in North Carolina - a joint present from Mom and me. I spent considerable time at the framing store selecting just the right color and frame type to set them off (great deal considering I had a coupon for 75% off - but even then it cost a pretty penny).

At last they were ready to be picked up. They came out beautifully - something the girls will treasure in time. I asked the artist about the best way to mail them out. She gave me some special packing materials, but cautioned that I ought to cover them with plenty of peanuts and bubble wrap. Hum. Where to get the right box and all that wrapping material? I decided to head to the FedEx store near my place. After a small wait, I stepped up to the counter and explained my project to the woman. Her response?

An unbelievable "Geez, I have no idea. I guess you should use a lot of bubble wrap."

That was the best she could do! I plied her with questions, but although she mentioned a number of box types and items they sell, she basically told me I didn't want to use them. Now totally frustrated, I asked her where I could go to get the kinds of things she was suggesting (special kinds of bubble wrap etc.). She allowed that there were FedEx shipping centers that would help me, but they were, in her words, "way over on the east side of the city. You won't want to drive all the way over there." What???!!!

I could not even get her to tell me the addresses of these places. Either she was new or stupid, I couldn't decide which one. Finally, I asked her point blank to tell me one address. She hemmed and hawed and kibbutzed and eventually allowed that there was one on Jefferson Road near 390S. I thank her and headed out, shaking my head. If her boss ever heard that conversation he would likely fire her on the spot! She certainly had a strange idea of what good customer service is.

After driving the short distance to the center, I climbed out of the car with my precious pictures and headed inside. We stood waiting until the clerk was free. I explained my situation. He said "We can do that." and took the pictures to a large table behind the counter. He had a special box, all the wrap and tape necessary and in less than ten minutes, I paid the bill and was happy to note that they were on their way, professionally wrapped and insured. That was easy.

Maybe I should suggest that the other woman take a field trip and see how its supposed to be done!

Pulmonologist

Once again I find myself sitting in another specialist's office when the symptoms that I intermittently experience are not present. I have a wonderful in depth conversation with a fellow/intern who explores all of my cancer journey and the medications I have taken over the last 8 years. He asks many questions, jotting down notes here and there, then disappears to consult with the head honcho. Carbon copy of my visit with the neurologist, except looking at lungs.

These tests are easier. I am asked to exhale into a machine, to walk up and down the hall for ten minutes rapidly while hooked to an oxygen level monitor, then to repeat the exhale tests into another machine. Once again the amazing report that I am healthy as an ox lung-wise and nothing to worry about.

They are quite concerned about the amount of toxic chemicals I have ingested. They comment a number of times that its important to continue monitoring for lung damage because if they can catch something like that early, it will be easier to treat. To be on the safe side, they decide to do an in-home monitor of oxygen levels to see if they can replicate the issue that the sleep doctor mentioned, but otherwise, not to worry. Great!

I am beginning to think I have the A-Bomb Disease. I recently read a book about the survivors of Hiroshima. Seems there is a section of the brain that is affected by the massive doses of radiation that makes them think they are continually susceptible to bodily degradation due to being in the blast. Many people actually die of what they think are organ issues when in fact, their hearts or lungs or livers are perfectly healthy despite their traumatic exposure to radiation. Really what the radiation caused other than hair and teeth falling out was cancer, especially leukemia.

So there you have it. I have seen every conceivable specialist, and there is nothing to be concerned about. They will continue to monitor because the possibility of damage is real, but seems I have some kind of internal protection so far. Thank God! Now if I can just get the fatigue under better control, I should be hunky-dory.

Man Down

I was minding my own business driving north on Long Pond Road when it happened. Some elderly gentleman walking along the sidewalk took a nasty fall. I saw him go down. His feet flew up in the air and he landed with a wham. I thought he must have hit a patch of black ice and slipped. His face was a mask of pain and hurt and he was clutching his arm. He must have smacked his head hard against the concrete walk.

I couldn't slam on the brakes in traffic, but I was very concerned. He was walking alone. What if he had a heart attack and that's why he fell? What if he broke something? I pulled around the block at the first possible opportunity and headed back towards where it happened. I prayed for him while I was circling back.

When I got to the place, there was no sight of the man. Whew! I hope he is OK, but if he got up and kept going, he must be alright. I pulled into the next street and turned around again. If I fell, I would like to think someone would take time to come see if I were alright. Even if they don't know me.

That frozen moment of agony sticks with me. For one brief instant I felt someone else's pain. How often do I pass people in pain and I don't even see that they are hurting? Really, I need to be more observant. People shouldn't have to fall in front of me to get my attention!

Thinking of Michael

Today is my son Michael's day of birth. He would have been 33 today. How can he possibly have been gone for 23 years?? I suspect he is having a wonderful time, he and Dad, doing whatever it is they do in heaven. Every Christmas I try to put something at his gravesite, and to think of some special event or task to do in his honor and memory.

Usually I don't have any trouble finding some service project or charity opportunity that I silently chalk up to my #2 son. He was a tough and exuberant child, unmindful of rules and restrictions. He loved life fully and lived it like no one I have ever known.

Why do I try to do some kindness in his name? After Michael died, I was so surprised to be visited by people who lived in our apartment complex, people I had never met and did not know. But Michael knew them. He was apparently quite social and friendly (and not surprisingly). They came to tell me how Michael had helped them so often. The young mother with several small children whom Michael had entertained. The older woman with the dog that Michael walked for her - every afternoon. The elderly couple for whom Michael took out the garbage twice a week.

I could hardly believe my ears. I couldn't get Michael to take out our garbage or entertain his younger brothers or (if we had a dog) walk our pet. He was always outside running around the neighborhood. I could scarcely get him to come in for dinner! Not until after he was gone did I realize how unique he was for a boy of ten. And now I realize also unique because many adults are not naturally given to goodness and helpfulness and neighborliness.

Well, this year I have yet to settle on something appropriate. I am sure something will become apparent. I just haven't encountered the right thing yet. Not that I lack opportunities to do something good. Just that nothing has seemed the right thing. I have no doubt that I find something perfect.

Meanwhile, I remember his sunny smile and joie de vivre and I am blessed.

Simulcast

One of my favorite choirs is the St Olaf Choir under the direction of Dr. Anton Armstrong. Their sound is inviting, their diction superb, their affect enjoyable and moving. They sing songs that I enjoy including many styles and varieties and they have fun doing it. I recently saw and heard them perform right here at Roberts Wesleyan College in our Cultural Life Center. I was not disappointed. The evening was like indulging in a decadent chocolate dessert. Delicious!

Every Christmas season for the last 100 years (!) they have presented a Christmas concert which (since sometime in the 1980's I think) has been televised every few years. Since I had the privilege of attending a summer workshop there 2 years ago, I met and sang under the various directors, learning much from their tips and teachings. When I found out that their Christmas concert this year would be simulcast in various theaters, I immediately looked to see if Rochester was included. Yes - in 3 different theaters.

I was so delighted that I splurged and got a ticket. Just like a child impatient for Christmas to arrive, I looked forward to the day (yesterday) and time of the event with great anticipation. I was a bit disappointed that the theater where I attended, Tinseltown, was not crowded at all. There were only a handful of us in attendance. I got all the joy of the concert without the hassle of wrestling with crowds and traffic! I settled back in my cozy comfy seat, closed my eyes, and drank in the fabulous repertoire which just rolled out of the 500+ student musicians so seemingly effortlessly.

Here is the program they presented:
http://www.stolaf.edu/christmasfest/2011program.pdf

You should be able to order a DVD of the event at some point - which is totally worth the investment. I hope they continue to make this option available. I would travel there if I could, but alas! I cannot do that very often. What a joy for a musician to be able to enjoy a concert rather than to work so hard to produce one! Now that you know this is possible, I encourage you to check it out next year. Attend a theater near you and have a cup of holiday cheer. It's delightful.

Another Sermon

Pastor Will has graciously allowed me the opportunity of preaching in service this morning. Not only that, but he has taken me on as a coaching internship. What an amazing gift of kindness and friendship! I look forward to growing in my ability to preach, even though I am not headed for a position as a pastor. Still, when called upon, I would like to do the very best possible. I do not take it lightly to present the Word of God to anyone!

So here is the sermon I presented:

Sermon: To Move a Mountain
Scriptures Isaiah 40:1-11; 2 Peter 3:8-15a; Mark 1:1-8; Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
I suspect that John the Baptist and Isaiah were both a little crazy. Think about this morning’s Scripture readings. What did Isaiah mean when he said “every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low?” What kind of power does it take to level a mountain and fill in a valley?

Here’s one way to do that (show volcano video http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=CgpNqrR318U ). How would you describe that?

[get responses and make the following points:

Powerful
terrifying
traumatic
cataclysmic
irrevocable
messy
destructive ]

When you think about a volcanic eruption like this one, there is a timeline of events that occurs. It looks something like this (this was accompanied by pictures of volcanoes in the various stages described):

Things happen underground; Specialists feel tremors and see signs
First signs of activity
Full eruption
Secondary eruptions
Activity subsides / Clean up of surface
Things still rumbling underground
Final disposition

There are other ways to move a mountain besides earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. It still takes a lot of energy and power, it’s still messy and difficult, it still destroys a lot of stuff and takes a long time, but if someone wanted to get rid of a mountain, they could use TNT and blasting equipment and big earth moving Caterpillars, like construction crews use to make roads.

Think about what it took to create I-90, our NYS Thruway. To construct a mere 500 miles of superhighway, it cost $600 million in the 1950’s and took decades to complete. Construction companies used all kinds of destructive forces to create man made channels through stone mountains to make it easier for cars to drive – they made the path ‘straighter, less hilly.’ This past summer they began a $100 million reconstruction project to fix just a few miles of that highway. On top of all the things we said before, it is also tremendously costly to move mountains and fill in valleys.

Even doing it slowly with road construction, it still follows our timeline of mountain moving events in many ways. They talk, raise money, do studies, get engineers involved all before the first shovel of dirt is moved.

When Isaiah says that we need to prepare for the coming of the Lord by “making straight in the desert a highway for our God!” what was he talking about? How is blowing up mountains and moving the rubble into the valleys something that will bring us comfort??!! What mountain are we moving and why?

Let’s look at the context in which this was spoken. Israel was going into captivity in Babylon. All hope for freedom and prosperity was gone. They were being punished for their lack of obedience to God. On the eve of this devastation, Isaiah speaks a word they could take comfort in. It will not always be like this, he says. A time will come when the Lord will bring deliverance, with might he will overcome their bondage. It will be messy and painful, but God promised to do it.

Isaiah’s prophecy talks about much more than one discreet moment in time. God’s promise of deliverance began in the Garden of Eden. When Adam and Eve disobeyed, sin brought bondage. It affected the entire created world. No longer was everything perfect. Suddenly there was a wall between God and humanity. The wall was too high, too long, too deep to get around. Remember that song?

So high, can’t get over it.
So deep, can’t get under it.
So wide, can’t get around it.
O, bless my soul.

The mountain of sin would have to be destroyed. Isaiah’s prophecy fits into a similar kind of timeline which you could think about like this (each listed under the same picture used above, indicating the same stage):

Garden of Eden – Sin
Old Testament Prophecies
Incarnation
Crucifixion & Resurrection
Early Church
Present Day
Second Coming & Judgment

How will God destroy the mountain that separates humanity from God? What is his tool of choice to make straight the path of salvation? He chose the most powerful weapon of all: Love.

This weapon came in the most unexpected package. In his infinite wisdom, with his vast power and wisdom, in his magnificent omnipotence, he crammed the incredible magnitude of God in all God’s glory and power into a single human cell. He took the infinite and placed it in a microscopic bit of flesh and tucked it in a dark womb.

This speck of divinity, this power beyond anything we could imagine was harnessed by bone and sinew and muscle. Imagine what it took to accomplish that! It was the visible sign of the earth-shaking mountain-moving restoration of God’s children.

Did you ever wonder why the Bible talks about what John the Baptist wore? What difference did it make that he worn a camel hair shirt with a leather belt? I have always been bothered by that. How incongruous. Who would go listen to a crazy person who wore clothes that intentionally irritated his body as a type of enforced discipline and penance for sin?

I wonder if we can see something symbolic in that. John came to prepare the way for Jesus. Perhaps this was his way of showing how difficult it must have been for the creator to put on creation, for the divine to be clothed in humanity. Can we for a moment grasp how Jesus must have felt when he took on human form?

What an incredible sacrifice to willing put on flesh. It was costly for him to become a baby. We think that Jesus’ sacrifice began on the cross. But I think it began at the moment of conception. I think it began with the incarnation.

When we think of a baby, we think of holding a newborn after it has gone through the trauma of being born. Hold a baby in your arms. Look into its precious face. See a quiet, sweet little face filled with peace and contentment. How adorable.

We forget all the agony it took for that baby to arrive! They don’t call it labor for nothing. Ask any women who has had a child. She will tell you how hard and painful it is. Mary was no different. She didn’t just miraculously blink and tah-dah! A perfect baby. She felt the pain of labor, she sweated. She groaned. She pushed. It was a messy process.

Having a baby is traumatic. It’s cataclysmic. It’s irrevocable. It’s terrifying. Just like moving a mountain. Think how being born must feel to all babies. Jesus went through that with far more impact than any human child.

Being born is not fun. How do I know? What do babies do immediately after they are born? They CRY! If being born were a joyful experience, babies would laugh great big belly laughs of joy. But they don’t - they cry. Jesus cried.

Did the angels scream in horror as they watched the torture and agony, the hurt and pain Jesus was enduring in being born? No! They did what we do when a baby is born. They CELEBRATED! They called all the relatives (think shepherds, think wisemen) – hey look – it’s a baby!

Jesus was so much more than just a baby. He was relief for a sin torn world. After centuries of suffering and sin and bondage, Jesus’ birth was the first eruption, the first tangible sign that God was at work restoring our fellowship with Him. Jesus’ birth was part of the process of creating a smooth and level highway by which the world can return to God. Jesus POWER erupts in the incarnation, set free by the pain of delivery.

Crazy John broke with Temple tradition to offer a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin. Up until then, sin was taken care of by placing your hand on the head of a lamb, transferring your sin to the animal, and then killing the lamb. Why did John tell people that they could repent of their sin not through the sacrifice of lambs but with washing of the water.

Why water? How do you know when a baby is about to make an appearance? The pregnant woman’s water breaks. When Jesus was born, the delivery process for the whole world began. So there was John, and water, and promise of deliverance all wrapped up in the power and pain and trauma of Jesus’ divine human birth.

The priests of the Temple thought John was just a crazy person, but John had felt the tremors of the earthquake that was about to hit. He knew how traumatic, how cataclysmic, how irrevocable the upcoming events would be. “Get ready!” he shouted. The Promise is coming. Behold, believe and be baptized! Mountains are moving. The walls of sin and death are tumbling!!! He knew the incarnation was full eruption and that the crucifixion and resurrection were not far behind.


Isaiah’s words looked forward not just to the manger, but on beyond to the second coming. We still look forward to Christ’s return. There’s more to come. Are we ready? Have we prepared ourselves for this final cataclysmic earth-shaking event? Are we making our own paths straight through repentance and growing in the grace of God?

II Peter 3:10 tells us
“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare.

Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming.

That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells.

So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him.”

What kind of people ought we to be? Not hunkering down on the side of Mt St. Helena assuming that the worst is over and we are safe. The grass has grown over the destruction and we can get comfortable. We ought to always be aware of that final coming earthquake.

Isaiah and John call us to make straight our path by living holy and godly lives and to make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him.

May it be so in our lives this Advent season.

Cantata Rehearsal

Wow! I can't believe it is already December and our church choir cantata is just a few weeks away! We have just finished reading through the entire work but not really begun the serious shaping and tuning needed. Yikes!

Granted, this is one that the choir has sung before. The title is Angel's Joy by Don Innes. It has wonderfully singable melodies and comfy harmonies. The range is well within easy-to-reach levels and the words are not challenging. It harks back to a gentler, kinder era when music was sweet and pretty.

Today is our regularly scheduled weekend rehearsal. My goal is to work for the first hour in sectionals so we make sure all the pitches and timings are correct. Then we will take a short break to view the slides that will show while we are singing (since the choir doesn't get a chance to see them while we are presenting the cantata), and then come together for the second hour to work on shaping and phrasing and dynamics and all those other aspects that make printed notes into engaging music.

While we are practicing, members of the congregation are decorating the church for the Advent / Christmas season. They put up and decorate trees, hang greenery and angels and ornaments in hallways and the fellowship hall as well as the sanctuary. The place looks wonderful and festive! Perfect timing for our musical offering.

Today we make excellent progress. Next Thursday we will work on the woman's piece (a sweet lullaby) and the men's piece (we three kings of course), then sing the whole cantata from, as my Grandmother used to say, "tither to yon," a saying that cracked up my alto section. OK, pillar to post. Or beginning to end. Or here to there. Or however else your colloquialisms take your fancy! Any way you say it, we will sing the whole enchilada.

Snow!!!

Can you believe it? The first real snow of the season. We have had a few flakes in the air before today, but not a white sky of dancing flakes! It almost feels like winter is here. Of course, it doesn't stick to the ground or make driving all that difficult.

What is there about first snowfalls that delights us so? Is it still the memory of a day off from school, the freedom we used to get from the daily drudgery and the plodding normality of day to day life that we recall? That doesn't happen for adults. We still get to go to work for the most part unless its absolutely horrible out. AND we have to drive in the slippery stuff. No vacation in that.

Is it the covering of all the bleak browns and bare trees with such pristine clean whiteness that appeals? Perhaps, but the snow does not stay pristine for long. Add the sand and salt from the road crews and soon enough white turns dingy and ugly. Could it be the cleansing of bugs and germs and bacteria that lifts our hearts? I hardly think that cause for outward joy, benefits notwithstanding.

So what IS it that makes us smile and fills us with happiness when the snow first begins to fall? Maybe it is a throw back to when life revolved around the seasons of the year. One worked hard in the spring preparing the fields and planting. Summer brought the back breaking labor of weeding and hoeing and watering. Fall meant hours of harvesting and preserving, picking, bending and carting heavy loads. But winter! Ah, winter is when you hunker down indoors by the blazing fire and mend your gear. It is leisure well deserved and a time of being at rest.

Maybe that is what we instinctively feel when those first few flakes begin to fall. The full larder, the abundance of our labor safely stored, the let-up in toil, the comfort of hearth and home. Yes, I think that must be it - our primitive recognition of times past, of the orderliness of creation, of traditions long observed.

Still, I can't help thinking how sparkly and pretty it all is in spite of the fact that my larder is not driven by seasons but by paychecks.

You've Got Your Nerve

Mostly I spoke with the intern in the neurologist's office. She chatted with me for quite awhile, taking down my history, documenting my symptoms, asking questions. It felt good to be able to say "here's what's going on, here is why I think it is happening, here are my concerns." I gave my spiel about believing that most of what I am experiencing is from the many years of treatment - after all, you can't keep taking toxins and being radiated without some effect.

I told her that I was well aware that my symptoms come and go, and that in the overall grand scheme of things, weren't really all that big a deal. Just that I don't want something to get out of hand and end up in a mess when I could have prevented it. Especially considering that sometimes my legs feel like lead weights and just don't move well. She understood and assured me that it was entirely right and appropriate for me to track what is going on even if there is nothing of concern at the moment. I relax a bit. She steps out to connect with the doctor.

He agrees that we should run the nerve tests, but nothing full scale or overwhelming. Just a check in to see where things lie. I am shown to a testing room. The technician has me lie on the bed while she revs up the machine. She places a warm pad on my right leg which feels wonderful, especially considering that for the next 10 minutes, she will be using her 'cattle prod' to send electric shocks down my leg to activate the nerves - 3 in particular. Yikes! Thank goodness I didn't get the full 9 yard treatment!

I get the results right away. Same as last time I had this test over a year ago. Some neuropathy. I could take something for it if I want to, but neither the doctor nor I see any reason to take yet another drug when I can control the symptoms with movement and on the really bad days, Tylenol. So he agrees, but wants to see me again in 6 months. The one thing he puzzles over is that Rituxan is not really known for causing nerve damage, but that is all I am getting, and I do experience the neuropathy when getting the Rituxan. So he wants to keep touch.

OK. I feel like that woman who spent all that she had on doctors and was none the better for it! At some point I am going to pull the plug and stop all this crazy running around. Happy December.

2 Candles

This year I placed both of my electric candles in the kitchen window, plugged them in, and decided to leave them on 24/7. Something about this year's Christmas season seems to call for something beyond our normal activities. I sense it everywhere I go. I find it difficult to believe that I am the only one who seeks more from this year. Perhaps all of us are tired of the economic falderal and the downsizing of life. Maybe this year we crave not the shopping and the glare of harsh neon, but the true down to earth basics of love and goodwill.

Oh, I have heard stories of bad behavior among shoppers. But what I see more of this year than in previous years is that desire to reconnect with people who are part of your sphere. To spend time with family and friends, to "do" the traditional actions of decorating a tree and hanging lights not because you have to, but because you want to spend time with people doing something memorable. Even Rahway Street, the icon of miniature golf course decor, has engaged more homes in the display of lights this year - and with less of that commercial 'my lights are bigger than your lights' attitude.

We want to go back to the good old days when life was enjoyable and one could actually retire in peace and the children all came for the day to see the grandparents. We want to move past the uncertainty of the times, beyond the bad job market and the instability of an unpredictable future. And the only way we know of to accomplish that is to hang more lights. Blot out the darkness.

Let the soft glow of colored lights bring us some small measure of vision in the dark times. Let the consolation of connection with loved ones (and yes, even the not so loved ones) assuage our fear of finding ourselves left out in the dark while the rest of the world is inside celebrating. Let the love of Christ pour over us now in the same powerful way that it did so many years ago in a little town, in a stable, in a manger.

Yes, I shall leave my 2 lighted candles on for the duration. Every time I come home, they cheer me up. Every time I leave home, they give me strength to face whatever I am doing. In the middle of the night when I wake, the soft glow of the candles comforts my heart and dispels any disturbing dreams. May the lights at your house do so too.

Winter Fog

Swaddled. Isn't that a peculiar word? Sort of a combination of cuddled and swathed. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the verb "to swaddle" as "To wrap round with bandages; to envelop with wrappings; to swathe, bandage." Mostly the reference people know is about Jesus in the manger being wrapped in swaddling clothes, but the more common usage is to swaddle a corpse with linen cloths. How apropos. It is also used to describe dressing a wound. Hum.

All that to say that the world this morning is swaddled in fog. The air is fuzzy and out of focus. It's enough to give you a headache. Sometimes it is a comfort to be enclosed and covered with the soft white mist. Other times it feels very restrictive. One wants to know what is coming! I suppose for a baby fresh from the confines of the womb, it is comforting to feel the closeness of swaddling cloths. Helps them know the boundaries and that they are not adrift in a huge unknown.

It doesn't take long before you want to be able to move your arms and legs, before you long to bust out of the confines of the swaddling clothes the better to explore the wide and wonderful world. Maybe that's where it hits for the corpse. Longing to slip the confines of this earth for wider spaces. Wanting the fog of this world to be lifted to reveal the eternal. To explore the wide and wonderful beyond.

At any rate, Sugar and I both agree that we want to get back inside out of the damp swirling fog. Neither of us expected such weather in late November. Winter is certainly acting oddly this year.

Back to Work

Monday. After a holiday and a break. I expect it will be busy, but the parking lot is half empty. Perhaps students have delayed returning, unwilling to give up their relaxation time - or not eager to jump back into assignments and paperwriting. Several staff are still out, some not feeling well, others not back yet.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the morning is quiet. I get a few questions at the reference desk, nothing earth shattering. I catch up with email, always a task needing attention.

I change the liturgical decor in my office since I was not there the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when we normally make that change. I like my tapestry of the annunciation and my nativity snow globe. Next week I will move to the actual nativity tapestry too, but I don't want to miss the importance of Mary's acquiescence even though that was some nine months ago.

And so the day unwinds, slowly and lethargically like honey that refuses to come out of the bottle. I kind of like easing back into things gently. A nice relief from the usual jolt.

Carting About

I have delayed getting groceries because of the chemo hangover. But I must take care of things before school starts back up for Drew. After church, I am already done in tired, and I manage to rest a bit and eat delicious left overs for lunch while waiting for Drew to return from church. He brings me an Advent wreath he made in church. He did a nice job. We put it on the kitchen table and admire his handiwork. Usually we purchase a real pine wreath for the scent, but this works just fine.

He is eager to get to Wegmans. The list is ready, he jumps in the drivers seat - to spare me the energy drain, of course - and off we go. He is quite solicitous of my well being. He selects a large cart and politely maneuvers it so I can take over. I lean heavily on the handle. I man the list, and Drew makes the side trips, fetching this and that while I navigate a straight course through the store. I know my strength will last only so long. I move slowly, trying to stay out of people's way. The store is not too crowded. I suspect the main force already moved through a bit earlier.

Our cart fills gradually. Drew is into cooking this year. Chocolate chip cookies seem to be at the top of his list. He would also like to learn how to make bread, something I once did regularly when the boys were little. I got to be pretty decent at it. We search for yeast. Who would have thought to look near the cheese refrigerator case? I thought for sure the baking aisle. But we have it now. Only two more things to get. I am beginning to fade.

I need a large mailer envelope and a windshield scraper. Mine from last year disappeared. I might have tossed the darn thing because it didn't work very well. I decide not to bother. I am too worn out to handle a trip to Target for these two items. Drew senses my distress. He runs ahead to open the car door so I can sit down while he loads the groceries in the trunk. I recover enough to be able to manage sitting in the car a few more minutes while he runs in to Target for the last 2 items. He calls me to tell me the options.

At last he pulls into our parking space. It takes me a good ten minutes to crawl out of the car and up the stairs. I feel like an old woman. I know this will pass. It always does. I sit while Drew brings everything inside. What would I do without him? Plan ahead better! After a bit my energy returns. I can help put things away, but then I am done for the day. Drew makes dinner. I would have just gone to bed. Good thing tomorrow is another day away from the chemo and I will be in a better place. God is good. All shall be well and all shall be well and all things shall be well.

The Paper

No matter how I feel today, the paper is due. I must complete it. Fortunately, I created an outline and sketched in some thoughts before the chemo just in case I ended up with chemobrain too badly. I look at what is there. This will work. I have all day. Surely I can manage 2400 words by midnight.

But papers don't write themselves. I struggle to push into words thoughts that are still foggy and unclear. I am out of my element writing about Islam. I don't know anyone of that faith, so I have no idea how to hold a discussion of beliefs with someone who is Muslim. I write a page, reread, delete and begin again. It all sounds so artificial. I immerse myself in the readings. It makes sense when I read about it. But can I discuss it with any sense of integrity? I try again. Again I delete and start over.

Some papers are more challenging. They say to write about what you know and have experienced, and I see that this is my issue. So I just begin there. I don't know anyone of the Muslim faith. Perhaps that is my fault for not seeking them out. Regardless, here is what I understand of their beliefs from the readings, and here is where we agree. This is where we disagree.

I worry over it all day like a dog with a tough bone. Finally I am out of time and patience. I just want to get this darn thing off my computer and safely uploaded to the professor's class site. I suppose I could make some chemo excuse, except that chemo is not the reason this isn't my best work. Sigh. Sometimes you just have to take your lumps.

Black Friday

There is no way I will go anywhere near a mall today. In fact, since my chemo has hit royally, there is no way I am going anywhere at all today. Drew wants to spend some time with friends and asks me to drive him there. I look at him like he has lost all his marbles. You got to be kidding. His face falls. He disappears. I hate this stuff. He shouldn't have to give up seeing friends just because I feel horrible. But there is no way. I can barely manage to sit in a chair.

Drew returns. His friend's Mom will pick him up today if I will come and get him tomorrow. I hesitate. Will I be up to it tomorrow? I hate to commit and then have to renege. But his pleading eyes are hard to resist. OK. I will do my best. I am not sure about this at all. Besides, I know he has not done his homework yet. STOP! He is an adult. You cannot force him into making the right decisions. You will be lucky to prevent him from making damaging ones.

He dances off in glee to get ready. I realize this means another day alone and that I will have to somehow find the strength to walk Sugar. I ask Drew to take her out one last time before he leaves, but his ride has arrived and he doesn't want to make them wait. Sigh. Its good for me to have to make myself move when I have no energy. That's why I got the dog in the first place. Remember? Right.

Moving is better than not moving. As a faculty colleague of mine says, "As long as you can move, you will be OK." OK is good. It doesn't get the paper written, but its still good. Keep me going, Julian. “All shall be well. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.”

The Day After

Not so bad. Really, I don't feel too bad. I wonder if the steroids are helping. I don't rush about rising. Drew is going to visit his brother and father and I know Sugar and I will be on our own. I am glad I will at least have the oompf to walk her when she needs it.

I do have a paper to write, but I need to finish reading the material first (always advisable). So I curl up in the recliner with my books about me and begin to read. Some of the material is kind of prickly but I force myself to wade through it despite my opinions. Suddenly I nod myself back awake. I didn't even know I had drifted off. How wonderful to be drowsy and in a perfect place to snitch cap naps.

Must be time to warm a plate of food. I rumble about in the fridge, delighted to have so many tasty dishes to choose from. How kind of people to have sent casseroles. This makes it so easy. I bless my food and take my time eating. Then another little nap. I am still feeling OK. No pains, no overwhelming fatigue. Sugar and I take a walk. The weather is amazing for this time of year.

By the time I return to my chair, the exhaustion begins to take hold. I try to read. I have yet to get to the writing the paper part, and I realize I will not get there today. My grace is ending and the mack truck experience is beginning. I take Tylenol and give up on the recliner. This is a definite lie-down-on-the-bed thing. I am sad to leave behind the cheerful lights of my little Christmas tree, but I know I will drift off quickly.

I just hope Drew isn't too late getting home. Sugar will need to be walked again.

Chemo

I procrastinate. I know I am doing it. I drag my feet, waste time, loiter over little details like walking the dog. I watch the clock ticking down. I have to leave. I don't want to be late. Do I? I rush to pack my big pink bag that Sherri gave me when round 2 began. I am comforted by her presence. You can't wait any longer. You have to leave NOW!

I force myself down the steps and out through the laundry room door. I flip the car unlocked and squint as the yellow lights blink. It isn't even early. Only 8:30 am. I nose out into traffic on 390 S. Today I am in no hurry. I refuse to exceed 55. Cars whizz by. I shake my head. Let them pass.

I check in to the reception area and for once end up sitting there awhile. The infusion center is abuzz with activity. I hadn't realized how crowded it would be today. It makes me more nervous than I already am. I give myself a stern talking to. Behave yourself. You are not a little girl. Act your age. I am braceleted, weighed, temperatured, blood pressured and ushered to the farthest possible pod where I have never been before. One nurses' aide going by tells my guide there are only 2 chairs left until they reach capacity.

I ask if its unusually busy. My friendly guide happily announces that there are over 140 of us in the clinic today. All hands are on deck. They have squeezed everyone in because of the holidays. She is not kidding. I panic that I might not get a window. How selfish of me. But God is with me and of the two remaining chairs, one is not only by a window, it is in a corner with 2 windows! And the other candidate does not want it! Yeah!

I immediately raise the blinds. Even though the scene outside is construction and the sky is gloomy and gray, I feel better. I am not in prison. How silly, but how important for me. My nurse is new to me. She tells me she will get to me as soon as she is done setting up her other patients. Two people are with the other new arrival, and they ask to take my extra chair since I don't have anyone with me.

I nod, smiling. How little they know. I do have someone with me. God is with me, but he doesn't need the chair. I settle in facing the great outdoors, plug in my iPhone and dial up St Olaf's media page. For the next hour I am blessed by their fall concert. I do not even notice how long it takes the nurse to get to me. Who cares? Maybe they will send me home free of chemo!

But no. The nurse finally enters my pod and asks me if I always have a reaction to the Rituxan. I say yes. She is surprised that they are not trying to prevent the reactions. She decides to talk with the charge nurse. They call my doctor and discuss how they might help me. There is another preventive drug they can add to my list of stuff. Maybe I will not have a reaction today. Isn't that interesting? Underneath the conversation I can almost see Jesus' smiling face. Once again I know the comfort of being in good hands, just like last night.

I dutifully swallow the cupful of Benedryl, Decadron, Tylenol, Pepcid. I ask the nurse to wait long enough for stuff to take effect, and to hang a simultaneous bag of fluid to thin out the Rituxan. She is happy to oblige. And so the drip begins. I select another service at St Olaf, then one at Duke University chapel. I am alone for long stretches, yet I am not alone. I am comforted.

People wander in and out offering me warm blankets, animal cookies, ginger ale. I gladly accept them all, then return to my uplifting music. I hit the ceiling of my endurance at 200, a notch above the usual 150. The reaction starts in my feet, then the neuropathy climbs my legs to my knees. I don't say anything. I want to be done and get out of here.

Then it hits my mouth and I know I cannot delay. I tell the nurse. Here we go with more IV Benedryl. Thank God I learned the trick of putting it in the IV fluid because the straight dope makes me pass out. We pause the Rituxan until the burning, swelling and itching subsides, then we back down to 150. I will have to be here awhile longer. Sigh. I turn to the St Olaf Vespers service. Time is immaterial now.

One by one, my pod mates complete their treatments and depart. Even the latecomer newbies are done and pack up to take off. The center quiets down, unwinding after a hectic day. I am impressed that the nurses handled it so well. I watch out the window as darkness falls, shrouding me in a cocoon of nightness.

And Then.

Then.

Then the choir sings this gorgeous song called Stay With Us from Egil Hovland's Captive and Free. (see the last 5 minutes of this) The words pour over me like a warm and soothing potion. From deep within my being, all the angst, the fear, the burden, the heartache of my entire lifetime cried out to God. I can feel it rising straight to heaven in a shaft of misery. In return I feel a ribbon of light and warmth tumbling back down, covering me, healing me, comforting me. It is almost unbearable it is so amazing.

Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.

Jesus Christ the world's true light.
Shine so the darkness cannot over come it.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus the night is falling.
Let your light pieerce the darkness and fill your church with its glory.

Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.

These are the words of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, talking with Jesus and not knowing it was him. Recognizing how they longed to be with him, urging him to stay with them (Luke 24). As the darkness fell and I became more alone in my isolated pod, as the bustle of life worked its way down the hall away from my place, the tears streamed down my face in total release of the weight I had been carrying. God's love washed over me, tender and caring. I felt loved beyond measure. You cannot imagine how the music and the love and the words and the darkness outside and the aloneness aligned in one amazing heartlifting moment caressed by His presence.

Nothing else mattered. It was all true, what the song said. I knew it. I felt it. I pressed repeat over and over again until all the tears were cried, until all the heartache was eased, until I was at total peace. It was the primal cry of my being. God, don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Stay here. Stay here with me. Please. I took a deep breath for the first time in days.

And just as suddenly as the Holy Spirit appeared, my world returned to normal. The nurse came to tell me I was done and remove my hook up. One bandaid later I gathered my things and began the long trek down the darkened hall and into the glaring light of the parking garage where I climbed into my car and started the engine.

Stay with us. Stay with me. You will never leave me or forsake me. You are with me always even to the end of my world. Be with those who watch and weep and wait through the long hours of the dark night and comfort them with your eternal light. Stay with me, Lord. I know you will. You promised.

Getting Ready

I don't usually have such a difficult time thinking about getting a chemo treatment. I have been doing this for a long time. There is nothing unexpected, nothing all that big a deal. This will be my 16th round of Rituxan, and I still have 8 more to go over the next few years. But something inside will just not sit still.

I consider calling my pastor and asking for prayer. I mean to do it. I keep getting sidetracked. Besides, something inside keeps saying how silly it is and how unnecessary. After all, its not like I can't handle a little chemo. But I know deep inside that it is not a sign of weakness to ask for prayer. Of all people, I should know that.

I am sucked into one issue after another all day at work and by the time I am free, the day has ended and it is really too late to ask for a meeting. I know people are praying for me, and I decide to let that be enough. I could have called the pastor and had him pray for me over the phone, and I know the pastor would not have minded. But I am all out of sorts. What is wrong with me?

Maybe its because three friends of mine have lost their battle with cancer in the last few months. What if I am next? I have been holding on until Drew at least graduates from high school and he is getting close. What if I run out of time? This is not some silly game. This is for all the potatoes.

My friend once told me that I have every right to be distraught about having cancer. After all, what I am going through is not nice. I should be upset. True. I responded by saying that really, I had been through much worse and by comparison, this wasn't such a big deal. Also true. But by comparison with how things should be, its all out of whack.

I give myself permission to be distraught. Then I find I am too tired to be upset or angry or fearful or anything but tired. Maybe that's it. Maybe I am just worn out with having to intentionally make myself submit to these bouts of feeling horrible over and over.

I tumble into bed and just say, "Dear God - " That is as far as I can manage. Dear God. And in those two words, all the everything inside is said. At once I know he has heard and knows exactly what is what. I can rest. Its as simple as knowing that I am in good hands no matter what. I drift off to sleep. We will see what tomorrow brings.

Unexpected Bonus

Today I pulled back the curtain to water my Christmas cactus. I have had this particular plant for a long time - well, at least since after my first round of cancer. I have carted it around from Illinois to Connecticut to Rochester. I even have left it in my Mother's capable care during times of moving.

The poor little thing has never bloomed. It almost bloomed after Mom took care of it for a month or so. Actually had a few little buds on it. But as soon as I took it back, the buds fell off and nothing came of it. It has slowly grown, and I repotted it a couple of years ago. I mostly keep it in the window for the sun. After all, it is a cactus. And this is not much of a desert or hothouse.

It obliges by growing long dangling arms of green succulent plant with little spines here and there, but no flowers or buds. I chalked it up to the stress of the household or the fact that I somehow got either a male plant or a defective thing. Or I just don't have a green thumb. Or even a pale yellow one. No matter. I like the greenery and everything has it purpose.

Today, as I pulled the curtain aside, I was suddenly greeted by more vibrant huge pink flowers than I could take in. What on earth happened?? Astounded, I set down the watercan and gently pull the pot from the window. More blooms cascade from the window side of the terra cotta pot. I am overwhelmed. I cannot believe this dormant quiet little unproductive plant has suddenly produced so many beautiful blooms that it completely makes up for all the years of silence.

I call the kids to look. They are impressed. What did I do? Nothing. Nothing different from what I have always done! The plant just decided it was time. We admire the gorgeous blossoms until we finally have to tear ourselves away. I tuck the pot carefully back in the window sill and head out into the day totally blessed and smiling my silly head off. Who would have thought?

I Am Thankful

I open my eyes and am glad to be alive. I stretch and immediately am thankful for my cozy comfortable bed (having slept in lumpy old bunks crammed with siblings where I was far from comfortable) and the warmth of my bedroom. Not so long ago I was in a home where there was no heat and it was c-o-l-d! And I remembered living at Charlie Lake in the winter when you had to use the outdoor facilities that were definitely not heated. I am so spoiled.

I am thankful I do not have to rush to work and do hard physical labor before breakfast (like when I visited at Gram's and the chickens had to be fed first). And how luxurious is a hot shower! Manys the time I have taken cold washcloth baths after carting gallon jugs of water from the mountain pipe down the road, pulling dozens of the heavy things in a little red wagon. Or stood in a pan and poured warmed water over myself, soaped up in the freezing air of the unheated house, then doused again to rinse. That's no fun.

I am thankful my house has no vermin or critters. My sister used to sleep with the dog even though she was no fan of dogs because it kept the mice from running over her bedcovers at night. And in the south, the inevitable cockroaches gave me the nervous willies. I love my warm flannel jammies and sheets - no need for hot water bottles to keep your toes from freezing with shock from touching frigid cloth.

I am blessed to have a closet full of clean clothing that I like. Stuff that fits, is my preferred color and style, and is NOT a hand-me-down. My shoes are perfect for my feet and don't give me blisters (unlike those blasted Salvation Army used shoes I had to wear when I was a kid), and my sweaters (plural) are warm warm warm. I love the smell of my shampoo and handsoap. I not only have food in my fridge, I have a fridge and not an ice cooler. Manys the time I have lived in a dumpy place where either there was no refrigerator or the electric was off. What a nuisance to have to buy ice and dump out stale water and hope to God the food isn't spoiled. And I have pans and a working stove to warm my delicious food, of which I can choose what I am in the mood for today.

I have a happy little doggie companion, a car that works well and is dependable and gets good mileage, a son who keeps me company, neighbors to chat with, a quiet peaceful neighborhood, and money in my wallet. Not a lot, but enough. I have a job thank God thank God - one I truly like and enjoy and find pleasure in doing with good people. I am free to come and go without being questioned and for the most part I am not in pain. At least not constantly. And I can get medicine when I need it.

I cannot even really begin to list the wonderful amazing blessings I enjoy on a regular basis. What's not to be thankful for? As Julian of Norwich once said, "…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." which translated means, Thank God, I am blessed.

Thanksgiving Arrives Early

My wonderful church family is once again coming alongside me to offer meals and prayers while I undergo chemo next Wednesday - right before Thanksgiving. I am busy gearing up for this chemo, trying to get the house in order and take care of bills and papers for coursework, etc.

It never occurred to me to celebrate Thanksgiving early while I am still feeling well. I just fell into the trap of assuming that since I would be reeling from the treatment, I would lie low, sleep, and somehow manage to get through the day. But they suggested I consider celebrating with family today. If I was willing, they would bring a complete Thanksgiving dinner! Who could refuse such an amazing offer?

I invited Kiel and Andrea, and as an afterthought, also my sister who lives alone here in Rochester. I had a reference shift in the late afternoon and Kiel had work until about the same time. We both arrived home to an apartment filled with yummy smells and a plethora of pans brimming with holiday goodies. I almost feel guilty accepting such largess at the expense of someone else's labor. After all, I could have done this had I thought of it. I could have squeezed it in before the boom lowers.

Still, what an enjoyable evening we had. Good conversation, laughter, memories of past family events - while gathered around food which we could all thoroughly enjoy. We pulled one delightful dish after another from the warming oven - turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, gravy, home made rolls, sweet potato pie and cranberry relish. No one was shy. We lingered at table long after forks stopped moving.

Chairs would have been more comfortable in the living room, but no one wanted to move. No one wanted to leave the fellowship or break the good time we were having. After a bit, we thought of the pies - apple AND pumpkin! Can you imagine? How spoiled are we? We decide to wait a bit before indulging more, and finally wander into the living room where I ask for help in setting up my little Christmas tree (might as well get a head start on that holiday too!).

This year I am graduating to a one-person sized tree just large enough to hold the select ornaments I have gradually collected as children have moved out and taken their favorite ornaments with them. It goes up in a zip and then we watch the Veggie Tales Little Drummer Boy dvd until our dinner settles and we are ready for pie.

It felt just like Thanksgiving - a wonderful day filled with family and food and fellowship. Just right. I am surrounded with memories of past Thanksgivings where we met at Grandma's house and played with our cousins. Even Drew reminisced about the bit bowl of walnuts we used to have, and how he liked to crack them and pop them in his mouth. Good memories. I will not be sad at all or alone come the actual Thanksgiving Day when I will be home alone nursing a chemo hangover.

I am extremely grateful for the hands that prepared all the wonderful food we enjoyed and for the kind hearted people who recognized how important it was for us not to skip this important celebration. My heart is singing with happiness as I tuck the remains away for another day. Perhaps I will save a plate for next week. Perhaps it won't manage to last that long! But the memories will be there. I will be buoyed up by these moments of happiness. And some year, I will be able to give such a precious gift to a family going through the pits. I hope it will be soon.

Dark Takes Over

I am sitting at the reference desk, and suddenly, I realize that it is already dark outside. And before I leave work for the day. How can that be? I know the change in daylight hours is a gradual process, but I have been paying no attention. Daylight Savings Time speeds the process along, but really, until tonight, it hasn't hit me that I leave work in the dark now.

Maybe it has been the incredibly warm weather straight through November that made me think we were not close to winter yet. Maybe the recent snow jogged my awareness and said - Pay attention! Days are short. Soon you will be going to work in the dark and returning home in the dark.

I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter, but it does. I revel in sunlight. I suppose I have chosen to live in the wrong latitude. Not that I could survive equatorial living, but someplace where both ends of the day don't meet quite so soon for so much of the year. (it could be worse - I hear Alaska is desperate for workers and jobs are plentiful there).

Rather like getting old. Suddenly one day you wake up and realize you are aging. Where did the time go? Why doesn't my body work so well? And who made everything move so fast! I can do nothing about growing old or lengthening days. At least with the day thing, it self corrects! As for the body thing, I hear we get eternal ones after graduation. That could work.

SNOW!

The weather station predicted snow showers this afternoon, and sure enough, as I was heading to church for a worship committee meeting, the flakes began to sift down, one here, one there. By the time we began our meeting, it was pelting the window. My car is a white mound in the parking lot and the grass has disappeared. I feel the chill of excitement. Winter! Soon the dead brown of autumn will be blanketed with fresh white snow, scrubbing the pollen and fleas from the face of nature.

My colleague, who is from Cuba, can hardly focus on our discussion. Snow is still a wonder for her. She finally excuses herself to call her friend who just arrived. This is her first time ever seeing snow. I can imagine the joy! The rest of us smile. We remember being excited about the first snow, before we got jaded about the shoveling/driving parts.

One year when I was attending college in New York and my parents had moved to Texas, I awoke to a Currier and Ives "snow filling the air blanket of white on the ground" scene. I was so excited I quite forgot that my parents lived in a different time zone and I bounced out of bed and called Mom. She answered the phone and I was so excited I missed the hint of worry in her voice. Why would anyone be calling at 5 am unless it was an emergency?

I gushed on and on about the snow and how exciting it was until I finally ran out of words. Then Mom said, "Is that why you called? Nothing is wrong?" Suddenly I saw things from her eyes. First snowfalls are meaningless if you can't see them, if you haven't been living with dead leaves and brown grass that suddenly are transformed before your eyes. Joy is not necessarily contagious over the phone, especially at 5 am. Moms have their limits. I felt sick inside. What a fool I had been, how thoughtless of me. My silence was deafening.

"Enjoy your snow. I'm going back to bed," Mom said. Click. Dial tone. I sat in my dorm room stunned at my unthinking intrusion into my Mother's world. Please forgive me. Just then, my dorm sisters tumbled out of the side door into the white new world beneath my window. They scooped up the white slush and tossed snowballs at each other, yelling and laughing. I couldn't resist. I grabbed my coat and mittens and headed out, properly sobered but still up for some joy.

Mailing Katie's Present

My grand daughter's birthday is coming up. I wander the toy aisles at Target. Never having had a girl, I am a bit at a loss about what she might want. I know she is into princesses and my little ponies. There is a Barbie princess doll that is a vision of loveliness. I remember playing with Barbie and all her stuff for hours and hours, but I was a bit older than Katie. Besides, there is all that rhetoric about warping young girls' ideas of normal body size. Sigh.

I go to Walmart's and look at their toy selection. Really, I would rather give her art lessons or something that will help her develop her creativity. But I am so far away, and I don't want to press her parents into having extra transportation duty. So I text my daughter-in-law to see what I should get. Yup - the Barbie would be perfect. OK.

I head home with the beautiful Barb tucked beneath my arm. I search my storage drawers for wrapping paper. Apparently I don't have anything left of my once copious supply. Trip to the dollar store to find birthday wrapping for a little girl, then on to the post office to box it up and send it out.

I arrive at the post office and enter an empty foyer. Impossible! No one in line for stamps? I decide to ask the clerk for advice about which box to use. She sets the wrapped present on her scale to see if it makes sense to send it priority (where I don't have to pay for the box) or flat rate (where I do have to pay for the box in addition to the postage). It will be the same cost either way if I can make it fit in the small priority box.

I unfold the box and try stuffing the present inside. It is just a bit too large. Hum. I stand there contemplating. A gentleman comes in and wanders past, then comes back and offers help. Really? I am the all time guru at packing, having moved so often. I can fit the contents of an entire household into a small pickup truck. This is really not possible.

But he bends the box just so, bellying out the middle and violating the end folds just enough and voila! He has managed to cram it inside. The clerk doesn't bat an eye at the unusual packaging. She weighs and stamps it and tosses it into the bin for North Carolina. Who knew you could bend the rules of a rigid cardboard box and make it do something it was not intended to do? Apparently, my helper.

Go, Barbie - fly to North Carolina and make my Katie smile.