T.H.I.N.K.

Yesterday we visited with Job in the trenches of the battle...

It's a hard grace, this fight.  And sometimes our loved ones make it even harder... Job's 3 friends surely must have thought they were being helpful... but their words only served to make things worse.

When a loved one is struck with the piercing arrows of cancer, the last thing we want to do is to add to their misery. 

Here is a quick rule of thumb when trying to decide what to say to a cancer warrior...

Before you speak, T.H.I.N.K...

 

T - Is it true?

 

H - Is it Helpful and Honest?

 

I - Is it Inspiring?

 

N - Is it Necessary?

 

K - Is it Kind?

Letting words of Grace find a way to lift each hurting heart...

 

 

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It will be enough...

I need you to be OK with never knowing why Cancer chose me...

 and not trying to explain the reason why this happened to me...

Early on in mom's cancer journey we became just a little consumed with the Why of it all... nearly drove us insane.  But here she was... healthy, fit, rarely sick a day in her life, and then... cancer.  And not just any cancer... this was pancreatic cancer, deadly, terminal, heartbreaking.

Somewhere along the way, Mom finally made "peace" with the beast.  She drew us all near and shared this truth...It is your solidarity as you stand with me in the fight against this cancer beast that will mean the most to me... not your explanations and rationalizing the 'whys' and 'how comes' this cancer is knocking down my door.

It reminded me of Job...Old Testament...devastating journey... a book of Why's...and Not Fair's...

For those who aren't familiar with the story of Job, here's my 0-to-60 version in a nutshell:

Job was a good man. He loved God.  Disaster struck.  He wished to Die.  Yet, Refused to curse God.  But asked Why a million times.  God spoke Loud.  Job Remembered and Surrendered to God's wisdom. God Restored.  Job remained Blessed.

 Ok... that might be really condensed... like maybe there's more to the story... So, yes, here's the rest...

Job was a good man and righteous in the eyes of God.  He lived a good life, had a wonderful family, and was the best rancher in the land with lots of sheep and camels and oxen.  One day, up in the heavens, Satan argued with God that Job was only good because God had blessed him so abundantly.  His challenge was stark, give me permission to test him, saying that if Job lost all these things, he would turn and curse God...

God allows Satan to torment Job and in the course of 24 hours, he loses not only all his livestock and servants, but all ten of his precious children to horrific disasters.  Job tears his clothes and mourns in agony, but still he blesses God.

Not finished, Satan strikes Job bodily with boils and sores so that he would wish for death.  And yet, Job continues to bless God as he struggles to accept his circumstances.  From an anguished heart he speaks, "Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?" (Job 2:10)

His wife, in the pangs of grief herself, tells Job to curse God and die...the bitterness of her pain is palpable...

Job's 3 friends weren't much better, basically accusing Job of hidden sin for which he was being "punished." Their well-meaning but thoughtless advice only intensified Job's misery.

What a nightmare...Job spends much of the Book working through what's happening and asking "why".

And finally... finally... God appears.

He speaks with Job.  And His voice thunders...

God speaks of who He is and what He's done.  Job's heart and head bow in abject sincerity, acknowledging God's great might and power.

 Job has been given an answer... not the one he was expecting, but one much more important.

He claims with boldness in Job 42:2   "I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted."  Out of the storm, God has revealed Himself... Job is struck anew with the glory of His almighty presence... God is alive, He is mighty, He cares beyond a doubt, and God, surely, is capable of all things.

Then God gave back to Job twice what he had before.  And God blessed the last part of Job's life even more than the first part...

And that's the story of Job.

I have always loved that God came to Job in his misery and spoke to him... God spends so much time telling Job who He is and what He's done.  It never occurred to me until mom was journeying with cancer, and we were asking why, to see the things that God didn't tell Job...

He didn't tell Job why everything was happening to him.  We, of course, knew the "back-story" of how Satan had challenged God for permission to test him, but Job certainly didn't know that, nor did God deem it necessary to share that with Job.

Job asked why and God didn't tell him. Period.

God chose to answer Job with a magnificent description of who He is.  But not with why He allowed all these things to happen.

God chose to display His awesome power.  But not to disclose His future plans for Job.

And Job found that it was enough.

All the through the storm Job struggled.  He longed to believe God was still good.  That Jehovah was still in control.  That He was still a loving God.  The struggle was monumental.  Job continued to praise, but the questions... he agonized with God...

And God Almighty met Job with Himself... His Power...His Majesty...

Job found that it was enough.

God still meets us with Himself today.  Our struggles, the very real questions, the torment and the pain of not knowing why.

And He tells us His power is greater than our need.  Always.

Might we remember this day that we are loved completely by a good God.  And He remains steadfast and good even when we suffer unimaginable pain and grief.

He is there.  He is in control.  He is all powerful.  He loves us.  Always.

It is enough..


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A Day in the Life

Welcoming back Cancer Owl...
   for a most appropriate cartoon entitled "Mood Swings."

Thank you, Matthew... you make me smile.  But more than that you make me think, and open the door to better understanding, and the longing to love deeper and better and stronger...

 

 

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Spittin' Mad...

I need  your forgiveness when the outbursts and anger overwhelm,

my emotions have been in a rage ever since cancer came calling.

Years ago, and in another life, I had the undeniable pleasure of working as a veterinarian technician for a rural vet practice.

 

One of the most common surgeries we performed in the clinic were spays and neuters.  A walk in the park, most of the time.  But occasionally, the routine became more of an adventure than we expected... like the time we agreed to neuter Mr. Jones barn cat, Muffin (as in Stud-Muffin, but without the Stud...)

 

 

Sweetest tom-cat this side of the Mississippi.  He was purring up a storm as the vet got ready to give him the pre-anesthetic injection in his back leg.  I scruffed him by the neck, gently scratching his ears as the needle penetrated his muscle... and suddenly I was trying to contain the Tasmanian Devil.

 

His scream sent the hairs on my neck straight up and he shot out of my grip like a mad thing.  With no where to go in the small surgery room, he went for the cabinets and climbed nearly to the ceiling before we could blink.

 

His eyes were wide in shock and his tail puffed out twice its normal size.  As he scrambled for purchase, hanging on the old wooden cabinet door, we leapt into action and tried to grab him, which only served to enrage him all the more. 

 

His ears flattened, the tail whipped and a demonic growl grew into something that would have done the Exorcist proud...

 

With a heroic leap, he managed to clear the surgical table, scattering sterile instruments to the four corners as he dove for the window, which happened to be open... it was spring, ya'll, like beautiful weather in Texas... Who doesn't have their window wide open???  But with a screen, of course, we wouldn't be that stupid!

 

We were just not as mad as that cat... He plowed through the screen like it was nothing more than a flimsy window dressing.  I learned that's what mad can do to you...

 

And, heart be still, the story has a happy ending.  Enough sedative was injected into the Devil-Cat that he passed out in the bushes behind the clinic... We collected said sleepy cat and performed a quick - and painless- neuter and delivered him back to a happy Mr. Jones...

 

 

I think Muffin forgave us... but I'm not 100% sure :-)

 

And I wish that was how the "mad" in our cancer journey turned out.  As in, happily-ever-after.   Back to normal, looking handsome, lounging out on the farm kind of happy...

 

But Cancer Anger is a whole different breed of animal.  It's not funny, nor over by the end of a 30-minute sit-com kind of mad.  It's more like the demonic-growl kind of mad that makes you plow through windows or climb the walls hysterical... it can turn us into creatures we don't recognize, make us spit hate at the hands that only want to help and leave us spent and crushed when we can't outrun it.

 

Jay Lake shares his perspective on Cancer Anger like this:

 

"I’ve written before about hope, despair and the cult of optimism in the realm of cancer care. There’s a cultural expectation that we who are in such dire medical straits are to be positive and noble. ...

 

Understand that I don’t dispute the value of a positive attitude in people for whom it comes naturally. But insofar as I can tell, the only objective reason such an attitude is urged on patients is so that they’ll pursue their care diligently, take their medications, turn up for tests and appointments, and so on. Everything else seems to be about smoothing the path.

You can also make a quite reasonable philosophical argument about acceptance. But let me tell you, as a terminal cancer patient, my entire life is Kübler-Ross on fast spin. Acceptance doesn’t come naturally, and for some of us, is closely akin to surrender.

There’s a great deal of cultural pressure to accept the inevitable. To be optimistic and graceful. To suffer in quiet and noble silence.

Tell that to the cancer.

Cancer and its treatments are messy. They are painful. They are humiliating. Cancer undermines everything a patient knows about their life, their love, their place in the world. And for far too many of us, cancer steals away everything in end, ushering us into death years, decades, even generations before our time.

Why the h*** shouldn’t we be angry? Why the h*** shouldn’t I be angry? I am losing my life. I am losing my place in my daughter’s childhood and young adulthood and her future. I am losing my family, my friends and lovers, my writing. I am losing myself.

And when I say angry, I’m not talking about Dylan Thomas’ almost genteel rage against the dying of the light. I’m talking about a good, old-fashioned, trash can-kicking, screaming sh*tfit.

D*** it, of course I’m angry. Anger has kept me alive, kept me going, kept me dedicated to everything I can do to survive a little longer. I live angry, and I will die angry. Being me, I generally channel that anger constructively. I don’t actually kick trashcans or yell at people or throw tantrums.

But it keeps me going, and I cannot pretend it isn’t real, dark and fiery down to the core of my soul."

 

That's a look into the very real world of Jay's cancer journey.  And it resonates with countless cancer so-journers.  We can't pretend it is easy, nor that acceptance is the only answer.

 

Muffin would understand.  His angry reaction to that anesthetic injection was primal and real.  And that mad became his survival mechanism as he coped with the scary unknown of a life-altering journey.

 

Might we always, always remember the power of such anger.  It does not have to be negative, nor is it a positive, it just is... it is part of the journey, and no one should ever, ever feel they must "suffer in quiet and noble silence."

 

"Bitterness is like cancer.

It eats upon the host.

But anger is like fire.

It burns it all clean"

                 ~   Maya Angelou

 

 

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Hold Me in the Storm

"There's no space that His love can't reach
There's no place where we can't find peace
There's no end to Amazing Grace
Take me in with your arms spread wide
Take me in like an orphan child
Never let go, never leave my side.

 

I am,
Holding on to You.
I am,
Holding on to You.
In the middle of the storm,
I am Holding on,
I am

 

I am,
Holding on to You.
I am,
Holding on to you.
In the middle of the storm,
I am holding on,
I am

 

Love like this, Oh my God to find!
I am overwhelmed what a joy divine!
Love like this sets our hearts on fire!

 

I am,
Holding on to You.
I am,
Holding on to You.
In the middle of the storm,
I am Holding on,
I am

 

I am,
Holding on to You.
I am,
Holding on to you.
In the middle of the storm,
I am holding on,
I am

 

This is my Resurrection Song
This is my Hallelujah Come
This is why to You I run
This is my Resurrection Song
This is my Hallelujah Come
This is why to You I run
There's no space that His love can't reach
There's no place that we can't find peace
There's no end to Amazing Grace

 

I am,
Holding on to You.
I am, Holding on to You.
In the middle of the storm,
I am Holding on,
I am

 

I am,
Holding on to You.
I am,
Holding on to you.
In the middle of the storm,
I am holding on,
I am"

 

~ David Crowder, I AM lyrics

 

 

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Taking Deeper Roots

I need you to be my foundation strong when the storm bears down.

The cancer storm can be relentless... The winds of pain and despair can blow us off our foundation surer than the waves that pound the shore.

There's a belief out there that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.  Dolly Parton sang it this way...

"Storms make trees take deeper roots."

I want to believe that.  And I do for the most part.  In most of life's storms we struggle, we cry, and then, somehow, someway, we rise above... We find our backbone, we grow spiritually, mentally, and emotionally from weathering the impossible hardships.

Deeper Roots, Stronger Foundation.

 Rising from the ashes of trauma and grief, we learn things about ourselves we could learn no other way.

So, yes, I believe that the storms of life make us dig deep and grow stronger.

But, then... Cancer.

The terminal pancreatic cancer that hit our family was like no other storm we had ever experienced.

It blew in out of nowhere, no warning flags, no roadmap and certainly no evacuation strategy.

This storm swept mom to her knees... and on her worst days, it threatened to take her under.

Her cry is that of every cancer patient, when the horrific winds of the disease howl and assault.

I need you to ground me, to be my roots when the storm bears down...

And this storm...I'm not sure if it can make a tree take deeper roots.  It can just break us, this storm.

On our recent trip to Alaska, we kayaked upon the most unusual thing I've ever seen.  Right out in the middle of Bailey Bay...there was this cedar tree...

It looked as if it was growing right there in the middle of the Bay... which would be really amazing, and like impossible, since the Bay was carved 800 feet deep by ancient glaciers... and yet, the tree, looked like it was growing straight up out of the water...

We kayaked in closer...

 

 

The cedar was "floating" in an eerily upright position.  We could see the branches spread out graceful under the water below us, the sodden limbs dying in the salt water... and yet, the tree stood tall, bobbing in the waves, refusing to lay down.  Even the birds flocked to her branches...

 

But she was dying from within.

Our guide called this tree a "dead head" and said that it had probably been growing strong and sure at the water's edge for years until the torrential spring rains and mudslides loosened the root's grip and eventually tore her from her foundation.  

Because the root ball was so heavily waterlogged, the tree floated off in it's semi-upright position, leaving us to silently wonder at this majestic sight... adrift on the waves, her roots anchored no longer to solid ground.

And I realized that sometimes storms really don't make us take deeper roots.

Sometimes the storms can tear us away from our very foundation... Pull us from all that is familiar, all that we hold dear.  

Storms can do that.   Especially a cancer storm.

And when our cancer warriors face the full brunt of the tempest, it is then they need us most...

To be their foundation strong when the storm bears down.

When we were in Alaska we saw another cedar tree...

 

Actually, we saw a "family" of cedar trees, growing on the rocks, surrounded by waves that beat relentlessly.

And they struggled through the storms, but found purchase for their roots together... facing the wind, the adversity united.

We can be that anchor for our loved ones... Holding them close in the storm...

Reminding them always of what we know to be true... They are loved... They are never alone...

The Foundation is Sure, it is Strong, it is built on the powerful name of Jesus Christ... 

Even though the storm bears down, we can sing our Broken Hallelujah...

for Grace has paid the price... The Battle has already been won...

The Battle has already been won.

 

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Battlefield Break - Finding ourselves on the Battlefield Road

Sometimes the battle comes to you...

And sometimes you must move to the battle.

 

This week past, the Farmer's mother took a painful fall and found herself in the ER with a nasty concussion and broken hip.

 

We received the phone call that every one with elderly parents fears...although stable, she was in a lot of pain and doctors began talking about brain bleeds and MRI's and keeping her for observations...with our hearts tumbling we threw together a suitcase of clothes and began the drive from Texas to Illinois.

 

As dark descended, we finally gave in to the need for sleep and pulled over to the nearest hotel. 

 

It wasn't until the following morning that I realized what a good sense of humor God has... for there at the corner of the interstate and our hotel parking lot was a road sign, completely meant for me...

 

 

 

You just can't make this stuff up!  In the dark of night, we had checked in to the Quality Inn Hotel on Battlefield Road.

 

 

Seriously!

So, just a reminder, in case you've missed it these past 2 weeks,

we've been on the Battlefield Road...

 

 

Ok, enough, already...

 

More importantly, we made it safely to Millie's side and found her smiling a welcome, but bruised from head to toe, with staples in her head and an extremely painful, fractured hip...

 

 

There was hardly an inch of her not hurting...

 hugs were gentle and oh, so careful.

Our worry meters had been off the charts,

so it was such a relief to see her sweet face.

 

The week has passed quickly with doctor visits, Ct scans and MRI's,

reports and consults, pain meds and therapy,

and finally a plan to get her back "home" to the Marigold.

 

 

There she was surrounded by love of the happiest kind...

 

 

The battle is not over... it will be weeks for the hip to heal...

but the healing has begun.

 

Gratitude spilling for all the prayers and well wishes,

it is Grace to give Praise this day!

 

 

 

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