This Advent season was wonderful for me. It was minimally stressful and I managed to make time to wait expectantly for Jesus' birth. I broadened my creative horizons with a couple of exceptional Christmas choral concerts (besides the usual seasonal music at Sunday services) and also considered some Advent poetry. Familial get-togethers and nurtured relationships were all overwhelmingly positive and fulfilling. It is a time of year like no other for getting together with loved ones. But, I struggled with the commercial aspect of Christmas much more this year than ever before. I am not sure why. (In fact, I even had trouble expressing myself evenly for this blog entry.)
I am sure it says something about me, but I have never been very good with gifts – neither giving nor receiving. I am getting better though. I've learned to accept help and love much more readily in the past year. But this season, the consumerism associated with Christmas nearly overwhelmed the many magnificent aspects of the season for me.
I can accept that so much of people's attention and discussion focuses on sales, stores and presents. Ultimately, what threatens to get lost in the shopping is the very reason for the holiday, God's gift to us.
I do recognize that gifts bring joy to many. Still, it seems ironic that ubiquitous consumerism commemorates the humble birth of a poor man who spoke out consistently against economic injustice. The monetary costs of giving challenge those with little, and seem to encourage the haves to Lexus levels of lavishness. The material waste undermines our responsible stewardship of the Earth God gave us. Related to that is the question of how much is enough. Our culture rarely bothers to ask that question; more is always better. Finally, more things imply more clutter (a personal peeve of a former Manhattan studio dweller) which undermines my mental and spiritual clarity. I am not advocating asceticism, but there may be something to a simpler life. Or maybe I am expecting meaning where there isn't any.
We struggle to get the "perfect gift" for our spouses, mothers, sibling and/or friends - a thoughtful something that might say "I love you". I must admit that (much to the chagrin of my family) I struggle with expressing myself that way. Love is, after all, addressing the needs of another. It might be that a trip to Brookstone might be just the ticket. Often, though, our loved ones have told us exactly what they want from us. A gift that can't go on a credit card, is the more difficult to give. Given the choice between stuff and love, genuine love asks much more of us. And yet it is also the much more natural and life-affirming way.
So, we come back to the greatest gift that is the pretext for all of the presents at Christmastime. The Midnight Mass sermon at the Catholic Church in town asked whether - beyond the fact that God is with us, are we ready to be with him? I have experienced the wonderful gift of God's presence in my life as I have faced my most difficult trials. Traveling with him is the greater challenge. That is where the love lies. What more perfect gift to everyone in our lives than to follow his way and walk with him?
I wish everyone a happy and healthy 2010!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Advent Waiting
The weeks leading up to Christmas are a time of expectant waiting. It is intended to be a time of spiritual preparation for the arrival of the baby Jesus. As we all know, the season between Thanksgiving and Christmas often ends up being a stressful time of shopping and social obligations. Chronological time seemingly speeds up daily with ever more to do before the 25th.
But I've come to consider a different kind of time at a Christian Ed class I attended at our excellent church. It is (in Greek) "kairos" which differs from the more usual word for time which is chronos. "In the New Testament kairos means 'the appointed time in the purpose of God', the time when God acts." Visually, I imagine it as a more circular time that (re)turns back in on itself rather than the more straight line time that we are used to. The Advent season including Christmas is a terrific example of kairos – a special time that God set aside filled with wonderful memories. Each year we long to recreate the warmth of childhood with hand-me-down decorations and traditions. For many, it is a safe place that we long to return to every December.
Besides the fond holiday memories, I've had a very different kind of kairos replay in the past couple of weeks. I have been remembering the bittersweet sequence from seeming perfect health to a cancer diagnosis and then ultimately a lifesaving surgery a year ago. Unfortunately, this year's experience is about much more than commemorating my happy anniversary. I am vicariously reliving the surreal progression from a distance as two dear cousins grapple with their own cancers. It is certainly a case of kairos – "of God’s purposes intersecting and overruling this finite world of chronological time."
At a Blue Christmas service this past Sunday night, I was struck again by the difficulty of kairos time. It is, for me, the most difficult challenge that God places before us – to submit gracefully to his timing for us. For instance, I wrestle with the unpleasant kairos possibility of a recurrence of my own cancer. It's a situation where I want time to be straight-arrow linear away from the days when cancer was growing inside of me. Just as God gives us life and health and abilities and wealth – God also gives us disease. Inexplicably (to us), he gives us tragedy. And the very best we can do in response- maybe the only and most impossible thing – is to submit gracefully to his timing and purposes.
The appointed time of Jesus' birth is a convergence of the sacred and the secular, of celebration and consumerism, of kairos and chronos. And each of those both invites and challenges us. May God be with you this season as you wait for the Christmas cookies to come out of the oven, for critical test results, or the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Take a moment to remember what the meaning of Christmas is and submit gracefully to his timing.
But I've come to consider a different kind of time at a Christian Ed class I attended at our excellent church. It is (in Greek) "kairos" which differs from the more usual word for time which is chronos. "In the New Testament kairos means 'the appointed time in the purpose of God', the time when God acts." Visually, I imagine it as a more circular time that (re)turns back in on itself rather than the more straight line time that we are used to. The Advent season including Christmas is a terrific example of kairos – a special time that God set aside filled with wonderful memories. Each year we long to recreate the warmth of childhood with hand-me-down decorations and traditions. For many, it is a safe place that we long to return to every December.
Besides the fond holiday memories, I've had a very different kind of kairos replay in the past couple of weeks. I have been remembering the bittersweet sequence from seeming perfect health to a cancer diagnosis and then ultimately a lifesaving surgery a year ago. Unfortunately, this year's experience is about much more than commemorating my happy anniversary. I am vicariously reliving the surreal progression from a distance as two dear cousins grapple with their own cancers. It is certainly a case of kairos – "of God’s purposes intersecting and overruling this finite world of chronological time."
At a Blue Christmas service this past Sunday night, I was struck again by the difficulty of kairos time. It is, for me, the most difficult challenge that God places before us – to submit gracefully to his timing for us. For instance, I wrestle with the unpleasant kairos possibility of a recurrence of my own cancer. It's a situation where I want time to be straight-arrow linear away from the days when cancer was growing inside of me. Just as God gives us life and health and abilities and wealth – God also gives us disease. Inexplicably (to us), he gives us tragedy. And the very best we can do in response- maybe the only and most impossible thing – is to submit gracefully to his timing and purposes.
The appointed time of Jesus' birth is a convergence of the sacred and the secular, of celebration and consumerism, of kairos and chronos. And each of those both invites and challenges us. May God be with you this season as you wait for the Christmas cookies to come out of the oven, for critical test results, or the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Take a moment to remember what the meaning of Christmas is and submit gracefully to his timing.
Monday, November 30, 2009
November Anniversaries
This past month (or so) included many milestones, anniversaries and news. The instances were good and bad - sometimes wrapped in the same package.
Cancer has been all around, beyond just pancreatic and even more so than usual.
October ended with heartbreaking news for me (again). Tony was a new friend I had been introduced to by a former co-worker. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year before I was. He had the Whipple surgery, chemo and radiation just as I did. Tony was my pace runner of sorts – a survivor whose story I could look to with hope and pride. We compared notes on our lives and lifestyles before our diagnoses and since. He was doing well but was undergoing some more chemo because of some suspicious spots on his lungs. After months of corresponding by email, we had finally met in September. A few weeks later, he had sent out a happy message to announce that the spots had disappeared and he was done with his treatment. Only a few days after I sent him an email of congratulations, I learned that he had passed away after an adverse reaction to a flu shot. It is a devastating tragedy that defies all reason. It is only as I write this that I can finally recognize that I have been angry with my God ever since.
On the eve of November, Halloween was the anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. This year, in stark contrast to last, it was a day to celebrate. After all, I wasn't sure that I was going to make it this far. But, on the flipside of that celebration, is the memory of the most crushingly sad and terrifying days of my life.
The day after Halloween was a glorious day of running the NYC Marathon. I had to do it - to prove that I could and to pick up where I left off last year. And the day after that was my birthday. A day that I feared I would never see. It has been an unforgettable year that can never blend into the 42 others for me.
The memories of my November 2008 are being replayed too vividly as I watch a dear cousin struggle with the painful process of the signs of cancer being confirmed this November. Of a similar age and place in life, I hate that he and his family have to share in this experience. And yet, there is also tremendous love and cause for optimism for him.
As it happens, November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness month. The intent is to raise awareness of the fact that pancreatic cancer is the fourth leading cause of cancer death in the United States—and has the highest mortality rate of all the major cancers. This year, 42,470 Americans will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and 35,240 will die from the disease. The number of new cases and deaths caused by this deadly disease are increasing not decreasing. Again, though very sad, there is still much hope and work to be done.
Like many emotional wounds that never completely heal but serve as lifelong reminders, I am trying to make good use of my awareness. I am willing to offer support to anyone that could use it, but wish more than anything that there was never the need to. Unfortunately, I spoke to two women this month being profoundly affected by pancreatic cancer. The father of one was just diagnosed and the second is a patient seeking out a surgeon herself. It helps us all to know that we are not alone in our struggles and pain. Along those lines, I would like to publicize a group called Imerman Angels. It provides one-on-one cancer support: connecting cancer fighters, survivors and caregivers. Imerman Angels partners a person fighting cancer with someone who has beaten the same type of cancer. Please let others that you think might benefit from such a connection know about them (http://www.imermanangels.org/).
The new month also marks the anniversary of a new beginning for me – Dec. 1st is a year since I had the surgery to remove the evil cancer from my body. It feels as if a huge reservoir of love has been zip-filed into that void. Thank you all for that.
Cancer has been all around, beyond just pancreatic and even more so than usual.
October ended with heartbreaking news for me (again). Tony was a new friend I had been introduced to by a former co-worker. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year before I was. He had the Whipple surgery, chemo and radiation just as I did. Tony was my pace runner of sorts – a survivor whose story I could look to with hope and pride. We compared notes on our lives and lifestyles before our diagnoses and since. He was doing well but was undergoing some more chemo because of some suspicious spots on his lungs. After months of corresponding by email, we had finally met in September. A few weeks later, he had sent out a happy message to announce that the spots had disappeared and he was done with his treatment. Only a few days after I sent him an email of congratulations, I learned that he had passed away after an adverse reaction to a flu shot. It is a devastating tragedy that defies all reason. It is only as I write this that I can finally recognize that I have been angry with my God ever since.
On the eve of November, Halloween was the anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. This year, in stark contrast to last, it was a day to celebrate. After all, I wasn't sure that I was going to make it this far. But, on the flipside of that celebration, is the memory of the most crushingly sad and terrifying days of my life.
The day after Halloween was a glorious day of running the NYC Marathon. I had to do it - to prove that I could and to pick up where I left off last year. And the day after that was my birthday. A day that I feared I would never see. It has been an unforgettable year that can never blend into the 42 others for me.
The memories of my November 2008 are being replayed too vividly as I watch a dear cousin struggle with the painful process of the signs of cancer being confirmed this November. Of a similar age and place in life, I hate that he and his family have to share in this experience. And yet, there is also tremendous love and cause for optimism for him.
As it happens, November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness month. The intent is to raise awareness of the fact that pancreatic cancer is the fourth leading cause of cancer death in the United States—and has the highest mortality rate of all the major cancers. This year, 42,470 Americans will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and 35,240 will die from the disease. The number of new cases and deaths caused by this deadly disease are increasing not decreasing. Again, though very sad, there is still much hope and work to be done.
Like many emotional wounds that never completely heal but serve as lifelong reminders, I am trying to make good use of my awareness. I am willing to offer support to anyone that could use it, but wish more than anything that there was never the need to. Unfortunately, I spoke to two women this month being profoundly affected by pancreatic cancer. The father of one was just diagnosed and the second is a patient seeking out a surgeon herself. It helps us all to know that we are not alone in our struggles and pain. Along those lines, I would like to publicize a group called Imerman Angels. It provides one-on-one cancer support: connecting cancer fighters, survivors and caregivers. Imerman Angels partners a person fighting cancer with someone who has beaten the same type of cancer. Please let others that you think might benefit from such a connection know about them (http://www.imermanangels.org/).
The new month also marks the anniversary of a new beginning for me – Dec. 1st is a year since I had the surgery to remove the evil cancer from my body. It feels as if a huge reservoir of love has been zip-filed into that void. Thank you all for that.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Everything Happens For a Reason
I began writing this entry at a bar on a Friday night, while dinner guests were arriving at my home. I was in the midst of waiting one hour for the next train after my usual 5:12 pulled out one minute early. People say that everything happens for a reason.
I hate that phrase. It strikes me as vague and detached; so amorphous as to be meaningless. The insight of the statement rivals that of observing that "the sun rose again this morning". I recognize that folks mean well when they say it, especially in the absence of anything better. When life seems out to get you and you are getting less than you deserve – it may help to blunt the non-sense of it all. But it sounds passive to me - implying that we should not get angry about or respond to any turn of events, because there is some beyond-us good reason for it.
But that's just it…the important thing is the reason. When it comes to explaining God's will (cosmic forces, fate, or whatever you choose to call it) we can't end up anywhere but short. Our little minds and our limited vantage points can't possibly know the reason why personal tragedies (to pick extreme occurrences) happen. So, the overused cliché attempts to explain away our lack of understanding with ambiguity. Though we may lack the vision to perceive why it's happened, it is solely up to us as to what we make of each day on which the sun has risen. Our free choice can fill the vacuum; we create the reason…or not.
Given that "everything happens for a reason", then there must be a reason that I am still here. My spiritually gifted friend Eric suggested that it was not my time (to go) yet, because God still has a plan for me. That thought made me simultaneously swell with self-importance and cower slightly at the awesome responsibility of it all. Maybe the reason is "merely" Ana and Noah. Though there are too many instances of parents ragically ripped from their families - or (worse) kids taken away from their parents.
My challenge is to identify that reason. I haven't been able to completely discern that yet. I am feeling my way towards it – like looking for that light switch in the dark. Any help, whether human or divine, would be much appreciated. I (only half-) joke about God sending a huge neon arrow to point the way for me.
All I feel I can do sometimes is to put myself in the best position to find out. That, in turn, requires that I get out of my comfort zone. The familiar can anesthetize us to the wondrous potential in life and in people. There is no denying that, like the rising sun, the reasons are right in front of us every day.
I hate that phrase. It strikes me as vague and detached; so amorphous as to be meaningless. The insight of the statement rivals that of observing that "the sun rose again this morning". I recognize that folks mean well when they say it, especially in the absence of anything better. When life seems out to get you and you are getting less than you deserve – it may help to blunt the non-sense of it all. But it sounds passive to me - implying that we should not get angry about or respond to any turn of events, because there is some beyond-us good reason for it.
But that's just it…the important thing is the reason. When it comes to explaining God's will (cosmic forces, fate, or whatever you choose to call it) we can't end up anywhere but short. Our little minds and our limited vantage points can't possibly know the reason why personal tragedies (to pick extreme occurrences) happen. So, the overused cliché attempts to explain away our lack of understanding with ambiguity. Though we may lack the vision to perceive why it's happened, it is solely up to us as to what we make of each day on which the sun has risen. Our free choice can fill the vacuum; we create the reason…or not.
Given that "everything happens for a reason", then there must be a reason that I am still here. My spiritually gifted friend Eric suggested that it was not my time (to go) yet, because God still has a plan for me. That thought made me simultaneously swell with self-importance and cower slightly at the awesome responsibility of it all. Maybe the reason is "merely" Ana and Noah. Though there are too many instances of parents ragically ripped from their families - or (worse) kids taken away from their parents.
My challenge is to identify that reason. I haven't been able to completely discern that yet. I am feeling my way towards it – like looking for that light switch in the dark. Any help, whether human or divine, would be much appreciated. I (only half-) joke about God sending a huge neon arrow to point the way for me.
All I feel I can do sometimes is to put myself in the best position to find out. That, in turn, requires that I get out of my comfort zone. The familiar can anesthetize us to the wondrous potential in life and in people. There is no denying that, like the rising sun, the reasons are right in front of us every day.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Life Changers
There are many things that can change your life. Often they are events or experiences. Sometimes it is people whose paths we cross. Occasionally it will be an object or thing. The intersection may be brief but leave a lasting impression. Or the impact could be deep and yet the effect relatively fleeting.
People will talk about books that changed their lives. Maybe a classic like On The Road that shaped a teenager's aspirations or a memoir that opened up a new world. It could be that BMW that you've always imagined yourself zipping around in; or that charming Victorian in the lovely neighborhood next door to where you grew up.
It might be the grandmother that relayed tales of courage and sacrifice during the war and never shows anything less than boundless respect for everyone she meets. Or the college professor that brought you a world of ideas that you'd never considered before but apply every day.
It could be the end of a loving relationship, the tragic loss of a child or quadruple bypass surgery. This weekend brings together two of the events in my life that have changed me forever.
Saturday the 31st was the first anniversary of my initial cancer diagnosis. It was mid-afternoon last Halloween after my first endoscopy when my serious Syrian GI specialist told me that based on her experience and what she had seen, that I likely had pancreatic cancer. It would be a few days before a biopsy confirmed her dire prognosis. To say that I was stunned is, of course, an understatement. Suddenly empty might describe it better. The saying goes that some things feel like "it was a lifetime ago". The start of this cancer journey for me, almost literally, is. Halloween 2008 is like that day between BC and AD in my personal life.
On Sunday, I ran my sixth NYC Marathon. I was on the verge of running it last year til I started turning orange and evil cancer stood firmly between me and the starting line. Thanks be to God, I was able to drag myself through the 26 miles this year in a respectable 4 hrs and 25 minutes. My slowest time yet – but then again I ain't getting any younger either.
I credit my first marathon experience and every one since with many lessons that prepared me for this cancer marathon. I entered my first one in 1997 just so that I could one day tell my grandkids that their grandpa once ran through his great hometown. I got much, much more than mere intergenerational bragging rights out of that run. Most importantly, I discovered that there is nothing that I cannot do if I put my all into it. Also, I learned to appreciate that not all suffering is automatically a bad thing to be avoided at any cost. Finally, I developed a sensitivity to the goings-on in my body that I still relish and has served me well throughout this illness.
As it turned out, several of my life changers have built upon each other. I've read the book, had the teachers and many friends, listened to grandmothers and watched loving relationships end. Each seems, in hindsight, to be a deliberate preparation for this ultimate life changer. I imagine and hope that it won't be my last.
Today was yet another significant day – my 43rd birthday. Now that I've run the race, I am just holding out til the grandkids arrive so that I can tell 'em the story.
PS – The thing about life changers is that they are not automatic. They can be brushed under the heavy carpet of our life's history. It may be easier not to alter our comfortable trajectory. But potential life changers ignored are like opportunities for growth left on the table - and that is nothing short of a terrible shame.
People will talk about books that changed their lives. Maybe a classic like On The Road that shaped a teenager's aspirations or a memoir that opened up a new world. It could be that BMW that you've always imagined yourself zipping around in; or that charming Victorian in the lovely neighborhood next door to where you grew up.
It might be the grandmother that relayed tales of courage and sacrifice during the war and never shows anything less than boundless respect for everyone she meets. Or the college professor that brought you a world of ideas that you'd never considered before but apply every day.
It could be the end of a loving relationship, the tragic loss of a child or quadruple bypass surgery. This weekend brings together two of the events in my life that have changed me forever.
Saturday the 31st was the first anniversary of my initial cancer diagnosis. It was mid-afternoon last Halloween after my first endoscopy when my serious Syrian GI specialist told me that based on her experience and what she had seen, that I likely had pancreatic cancer. It would be a few days before a biopsy confirmed her dire prognosis. To say that I was stunned is, of course, an understatement. Suddenly empty might describe it better. The saying goes that some things feel like "it was a lifetime ago". The start of this cancer journey for me, almost literally, is. Halloween 2008 is like that day between BC and AD in my personal life.
On Sunday, I ran my sixth NYC Marathon. I was on the verge of running it last year til I started turning orange and evil cancer stood firmly between me and the starting line. Thanks be to God, I was able to drag myself through the 26 miles this year in a respectable 4 hrs and 25 minutes. My slowest time yet – but then again I ain't getting any younger either.
I credit my first marathon experience and every one since with many lessons that prepared me for this cancer marathon. I entered my first one in 1997 just so that I could one day tell my grandkids that their grandpa once ran through his great hometown. I got much, much more than mere intergenerational bragging rights out of that run. Most importantly, I discovered that there is nothing that I cannot do if I put my all into it. Also, I learned to appreciate that not all suffering is automatically a bad thing to be avoided at any cost. Finally, I developed a sensitivity to the goings-on in my body that I still relish and has served me well throughout this illness.
As it turned out, several of my life changers have built upon each other. I've read the book, had the teachers and many friends, listened to grandmothers and watched loving relationships end. Each seems, in hindsight, to be a deliberate preparation for this ultimate life changer. I imagine and hope that it won't be my last.
Today was yet another significant day – my 43rd birthday. Now that I've run the race, I am just holding out til the grandkids arrive so that I can tell 'em the story.
PS – The thing about life changers is that they are not automatic. They can be brushed under the heavy carpet of our life's history. It may be easier not to alter our comfortable trajectory. But potential life changers ignored are like opportunities for growth left on the table - and that is nothing short of a terrible shame.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Prayer Challenge
I have always struggled a bit with prayer - what form should it take, how to address God, what to say, what to ask for, what's the point, etc. I don't think that this is particularly unique for anyone who chooses to address God from time to time.
Several years ago, I decided that I would change the tone of my praying and the way that I addressed God. Rather than adopt a little me talking to the all-powerful God type of perspective, I would address God as more of a friend That was, after all, consistent with the more familiar relationship that I was looking to foster w/him. I would start my prayers w/something akin to "Hi God. What's up? Just checking in…" That worked for me for a while but in the end was a somewhat empty familiarity in that it was unfounded. It was like those guys that call you buddy when they barely know you. "How's it going buddy? Have I got a deal for you."
When the awareness that something was wrong in my body began about a year ago, my prayers took on a new urgent significance. As I was seeing different doctors and having various tests done, I would pray, at each step of the way, that God would grant me the best news/result at that particular juncture. So, it was that I was relieved when it wasn't a kidney problem; relieved when it wasn't a mysterious virus; relieved that it wasn't hepatitis. At every step, I could rest assured that my prayers might be getting answered in that whatever news I did get was the best at that point. Until, I was left with few "good" options of what it could be. [At one point I heard about a woman who had similar symptoms and ultimately found that she had an issue with her belly button. So, I prayed for the belly button option.] Even once the cancer was confirmed, there was little time or emotional space for spiritual accountability - there were critical medical decisions to be made. As it turned out, I now see that it just so happens that God came through at each crossroad and ultimately did give me the best news that he could.
Looking back on that progression and on my relationship with God since, I have consciously been trying to pray a little differently. Until now in my life, my prayer requests have been very general - that God be present or help out in a given situation, I left Him a lot of leeway. It was ultimately up to Him on what he was going to provide and how something was going to go down so I didn't get too specific in my requests. Being polite and non-demanding n my prayer requests was also very safe. By doing so, I wasn't holding God accountable and so I never had to confront him when/if he fell short of my needs or expectations.
Lately, I have been challenging myself to have a better (more intimate) relationship with God. I've been looking to up the ante for both of us. I've been trying to be specific in my prayer requests and then deal with the disappointment if those requests are (seemingly) denied. A setback merely invites another, albeit more difficult, conversation with him.
It is analogous to the choices we make in the way that we conduct our relationships with those near to us. My relationship with Jacquelyn would probably be much more sanguine if I made few or no specific requests of her, if I never asked her to fulfill my needs. But it is precisely in how we express our needs and then go about satisfying them for each other that is the basis of the love in our (any) relationship. The waters might be calmer in the absence of such exchanges but they wouldn't be very deep.
So, in seeking a deeper and healthier and more intimate relationship with God - and all of the important people in my life, really - I am putting my wants and needs out there. I am asking and then dealing with the potentially messy consequences. It may be a more difficult row to hoe but will, I trust, be far more fulfilling.
Several years ago, I decided that I would change the tone of my praying and the way that I addressed God. Rather than adopt a little me talking to the all-powerful God type of perspective, I would address God as more of a friend That was, after all, consistent with the more familiar relationship that I was looking to foster w/him. I would start my prayers w/something akin to "Hi God. What's up? Just checking in…" That worked for me for a while but in the end was a somewhat empty familiarity in that it was unfounded. It was like those guys that call you buddy when they barely know you. "How's it going buddy? Have I got a deal for you."
When the awareness that something was wrong in my body began about a year ago, my prayers took on a new urgent significance. As I was seeing different doctors and having various tests done, I would pray, at each step of the way, that God would grant me the best news/result at that particular juncture. So, it was that I was relieved when it wasn't a kidney problem; relieved when it wasn't a mysterious virus; relieved that it wasn't hepatitis. At every step, I could rest assured that my prayers might be getting answered in that whatever news I did get was the best at that point. Until, I was left with few "good" options of what it could be. [At one point I heard about a woman who had similar symptoms and ultimately found that she had an issue with her belly button. So, I prayed for the belly button option.] Even once the cancer was confirmed, there was little time or emotional space for spiritual accountability - there were critical medical decisions to be made. As it turned out, I now see that it just so happens that God came through at each crossroad and ultimately did give me the best news that he could.
Looking back on that progression and on my relationship with God since, I have consciously been trying to pray a little differently. Until now in my life, my prayer requests have been very general - that God be present or help out in a given situation, I left Him a lot of leeway. It was ultimately up to Him on what he was going to provide and how something was going to go down so I didn't get too specific in my requests. Being polite and non-demanding n my prayer requests was also very safe. By doing so, I wasn't holding God accountable and so I never had to confront him when/if he fell short of my needs or expectations.
Lately, I have been challenging myself to have a better (more intimate) relationship with God. I've been looking to up the ante for both of us. I've been trying to be specific in my prayer requests and then deal with the disappointment if those requests are (seemingly) denied. A setback merely invites another, albeit more difficult, conversation with him.
It is analogous to the choices we make in the way that we conduct our relationships with those near to us. My relationship with Jacquelyn would probably be much more sanguine if I made few or no specific requests of her, if I never asked her to fulfill my needs. But it is precisely in how we express our needs and then go about satisfying them for each other that is the basis of the love in our (any) relationship. The waters might be calmer in the absence of such exchanges but they wouldn't be very deep.
So, in seeking a deeper and healthier and more intimate relationship with God - and all of the important people in my life, really - I am putting my wants and needs out there. I am asking and then dealing with the potentially messy consequences. It may be a more difficult row to hoe but will, I trust, be far more fulfilling.
Monday, October 5, 2009
September Sensitivities
I have faced another new reality in my life in the past couple of weeks. For better or worse, my awareness is heightened when it comes to any unexplained physical ailment. I am now always suspect, always sick – so that any unusual symptoms could "mean" something.
I had been feeling intermittently off for much of September. I was feeling some abdominal pain, diarrhea, loss of appetite, fever, excessive burping and a general tiredness. A little of this, a little of that, coming and going, a couple of days each week, none of it serious, and then I would feel fine. In days of old, I would probably not have gone to see a doctor the whole time – waiting it out instead.
On the other side of the coin, I was also upping the miles on my marathon training this past month. Weekends are when I do my long runs and early in the week was when I felt worst – so I wondered if there was a connection there. Besides being vigilant post-cancer, training also makes me extra in-tune with my body – so, I thought that I might just be ultra-sensitive to minor changes in my body. The worries of the loved ones around me made me regret sharing so much news of my minor discomforts with them (at first), but finally convinced me to go get checked out.
Ultimately, I feel that I was patient but attentive. I have a whole stable of doctors to choose from and didn't know exactly which one to approach. By the second week of discomfort, I was in contact with three different ones. My general practitioner suspected a stomach virus (the fallback diagnosis) during week 2. My surgeon didn't seem overly concerned but suggested an appointment soon. My gastroenterologist prescribed some blood work and a CAT scan by week 3. The scan seemed like overkill but who am I to argue with the woman who first early-diagnosed this cancer nearly a year ago.
Thankfully, all looks "perfect" in her words. My CA19-9, a marker for the cancer, is as low as ever. The CAT scan looks beautifully unchanged from the last one (just two months ago). The only curious thing was that my white blood cell count is out of range on the low side. Considering that it's been 3 months since my last chemo treatment, I would have thought my blood counts would have returned to normal. Still, a decreased ability to fight off viruses would be consistent with my having a couple of different little sicknesses during the course of the month.
Thank God for my continued good health. I have often said that I feel that God has been walking beside me throughout this ordeal. When I was receiving my chemo or radiation treatments, I would imagine God directing the poison and searing damage directly to the cancer cells. And so, although I still most assuredly believe that He is with me, I am challenged now to recognize something beyond that. God is not only beside me, before me and behind me. God is in me. I believe that God wants to express himself through all of us. I would actually like to believe that he wants me to be well. The potential is there for him to express himself through me always – but only if I can recognize and accept that possibility. Living that life is a lot more difficult than it may seem.
I thank God for the grace of his transformational presence. I am also thankful that I have the opportunity to get myself checked out when I am worried about what might be brewing inside of me. And thanks to all of you who have been praying for me as Jacquelyn and I have wondered and worried about whether all was well.
I had been feeling intermittently off for much of September. I was feeling some abdominal pain, diarrhea, loss of appetite, fever, excessive burping and a general tiredness. A little of this, a little of that, coming and going, a couple of days each week, none of it serious, and then I would feel fine. In days of old, I would probably not have gone to see a doctor the whole time – waiting it out instead.
On the other side of the coin, I was also upping the miles on my marathon training this past month. Weekends are when I do my long runs and early in the week was when I felt worst – so I wondered if there was a connection there. Besides being vigilant post-cancer, training also makes me extra in-tune with my body – so, I thought that I might just be ultra-sensitive to minor changes in my body. The worries of the loved ones around me made me regret sharing so much news of my minor discomforts with them (at first), but finally convinced me to go get checked out.
Ultimately, I feel that I was patient but attentive. I have a whole stable of doctors to choose from and didn't know exactly which one to approach. By the second week of discomfort, I was in contact with three different ones. My general practitioner suspected a stomach virus (the fallback diagnosis) during week 2. My surgeon didn't seem overly concerned but suggested an appointment soon. My gastroenterologist prescribed some blood work and a CAT scan by week 3. The scan seemed like overkill but who am I to argue with the woman who first early-diagnosed this cancer nearly a year ago.
Thankfully, all looks "perfect" in her words. My CA19-9, a marker for the cancer, is as low as ever. The CAT scan looks beautifully unchanged from the last one (just two months ago). The only curious thing was that my white blood cell count is out of range on the low side. Considering that it's been 3 months since my last chemo treatment, I would have thought my blood counts would have returned to normal. Still, a decreased ability to fight off viruses would be consistent with my having a couple of different little sicknesses during the course of the month.
Thank God for my continued good health. I have often said that I feel that God has been walking beside me throughout this ordeal. When I was receiving my chemo or radiation treatments, I would imagine God directing the poison and searing damage directly to the cancer cells. And so, although I still most assuredly believe that He is with me, I am challenged now to recognize something beyond that. God is not only beside me, before me and behind me. God is in me. I believe that God wants to express himself through all of us. I would actually like to believe that he wants me to be well. The potential is there for him to express himself through me always – but only if I can recognize and accept that possibility. Living that life is a lot more difficult than it may seem.
I thank God for the grace of his transformational presence. I am also thankful that I have the opportunity to get myself checked out when I am worried about what might be brewing inside of me. And thanks to all of you who have been praying for me as Jacquelyn and I have wondered and worried about whether all was well.
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