Early yesterday evening JJ’s computer started not charging right. Since my poor computer also has had problems charging, I texted our friend who fixes our computers and he said he’d look at JJ’s computer on Sunday. He suggested we make sure EJ’s computer is plugged into a surge protector. I realized that in all the buying and rearranging of furniture a few months ago, our computers became plugged into non-surge protector power strips. I wonder if that’s the problem? It just seems strange that two of our laptops aren’t charging right. EJ and JJ’s computers are now plugged into a surge protector. I will have to buy at least one more so no matter where we sit, a computer is always plugged into a surge protector.
Last night JJ and I discussed the fact that sometimes it’s the many little problems, not the BIG PROBLEMS, that wear us down. I mean, we know that we have to have endurance and courage and faith to get through the BIG PROBLEMS. But having computers fail or the cat poop right in the path so that I step in it on the way to letting the dog out into the fenced in yard….those many little problems that accumulate can feel like straws that break the camel’s back. Maybe because we are already aware of and preparing for the BIG PROBLEMS but the little problems crop up unexpectedly and throw us off-balance.
Oh, well. Such is life.
As I’ve said before, a few years ago I began to teach myself Hebrew. I do not know how a person can learn Hebrew and not learn about faith and life, since truths of faith and life seem to be intertwined into the very language.
As our family has studied Hebrew our faith has undergone change. For example, several years ago my family began to celebrate Shabbat (Sabbath). I always thought that Shabbat was a legalistic burden that was done away with “in Christ,” but as I met more and more Jewish believers in Yeshua (Jesus), I saw that they considered Shabbat to be a day to joyfully look forward to each week. “How could something so oppressive be a joy?” I wondered. So I asked a Jewish friend to explain it to me. She answered my millions of questions with infinite patience, and I finally understood. Shabbat begins on Friday evening and ends on Saturday evening. Friday night can be compared to a “date night” with God, complete with flowers and a romantic candlelight dinner. Saturday is sort of like a family day–a day to relax, rest, and enjoy God and family. It has become an utter delight to us.
Every Shabbat, synagogues around the world study the Parashah, or Scripture portions. Portions are read from the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms. Messianic Jews also add portions from the New Testament. It is believed that Ezra originally divided the Scriptures into these 54 portions so that through the year the entire Torah scroll is read. Yeshua (Jesus) referred to this reading schedule in Luke 24:44 when he said, “These are my words which I spake unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things must needs be fulfilled, which are written in the law of Moses, and the prophets, and the psalms, concerning me.”
My family has been studying the weekly parashah together over the last few years and we have found it a tremendous joy and blessing. Not only do we love to read and discuss the chapters of Scriptures, but we enjoy the deep insight of the Jews’ teachings on these passages. Usually we read the Parashah from the Hebrew for Christian website, but we also read teaching from other sources too.
This morning I woke up at about 7 a.m. Since EJ and JJ were still sleeping, I made coffee and then did a bit of reading. In preparation for the studying my family would enjoy together later, I read this week’s Parashah from the book A Taste of Torah by Keren Hannah Pryor. She is an Israeli Bible scholar who loves the Messiah. Her late husband founded The Center For Judaic-Christian Studies, and she is now in the process of setting up a new ministry of her own. I have become friends with her and study with her and a few others via video-chat. She is very sweet and has a lot of deep insight.
Anyway, this week’s Scripture portion is from Genesis 28:10 – 32:3; Hosea 12:12 – 14:10; John 1:43-51. The portion is called Ya’yetze, which means “And He Went Out.” One thing I read this morning concerning this portion in A Taste of Torah is:
“…The next verse describes how [Jacob] suddenly arrives at a place. The literal translation of the Hebrew text is more dramatic. Va’yifga ha’makom. “And he collided with the place.” It was a startling, unexpected encounter. Yifga suggests a dynamic encounter with an object that is traveling towards oneself. A word in modern Hebrew from the same root is paga, to hit (as in “to hit the target”), and a word familiar today, pigua, a terrorist attack.
As the redeemed of the Lord we move forward in our lives, planning in faith and hope towards our goals and desires, which we trust are in accordance with His will. But sudden, unexpected events can occur that interrupt our plans and disrupt the harmonious pattern we anticipated. They startle and shake us. On later reflection, however, we realize that unpleasant shocks can result in great good. We are given the opportunity to grow. They stir up the spirit and life within us and demand that we seek and reach out for God. They stretch the limits of our existence and our lives are changed.
I thought that accurately describes what has happened in our lives many times, most recently with JJ’s illness. We go along, life is normal, and then suddenly we “collide with a place.” I call these places “Life Quakes” because they are like earthquakes that shake and tear and unbalance us. They are not pleasant places. They are often an utter shock, even sometimes a horror. They are something we can’t handle on our own.
I actually dislike those quotes that say that God will never give us more than we can handle. Most of life’s difficulties I can’t handle–but I am convinced that HE can handle every situation. It’s often when life is difficult that God draws especially close. I love Psalms 18:12 which says, in the midst of an overwhelming flood of problems, that God “made darkness His secret place.”
I have encountered God in the dark secret places many times. Even now, with JJ’s cancer, there are good things happening. EJ, JJ, and I are drawing even closer together and we are experiencing God’s provision in a variety of ways.
I like this recent quote from Hebrew for Christians, which goes along with this thought of how dark places affect faith:
Brokenness distills the intentions of the heart by helping us to be more honest with ourselves. We begin to realize that we are more vulnerable than at first we thought; that our faith is not as strong as we imagined, and that our motives are often mixed and unconscious. Illusions are striped away; idols crumble; deeper levels of selfishness are uncovered; the gap between our words and our deeds is exposed… It is one thing, after all, to intellectually think about faith or to idealize spirituality, but it is quite another to walk out faith in darkness. Yet it is only there, in the rawness of heart, that we discover what we really believe and how our faith makes traction with reality…
On Wednesday, I woke up earliest, as usual. EJ works second shift and JJ is a night-owl so they go to bed later than me and sleep later in the morning. I had to wake EJ and JJ at 9 a.m. so we’d have enough time to get to the lab for JJ’s blood test. We arrived at the lab at the perfect time–there wasn’t anyone ahead of us. When JJ’s number was called a minute after we arrived, I went in with him to distract him while his blood was being drawn. JJ has always been healthy and until last month he had never had any blood tests or surgeries.
The blood test was quickly over, and then we drove to the meat market where we buy our meat. After a bad experience at the market we used to go to (that market wasn’t all that honest and we saw a worker hugging cuts of beef to his dirty apron, which turned our stomachs), I searched the internet and found this one a couple of years ago. They raise and butcher their own cattle, are very clean, and have many awards on their walls. We bought some ground beef, all beef bologna, and a few patio steaks
Thursday was a tough day for JJ emotionally. His illness stressed him, he was discouraged that he can’t go to work or college, he is frustrated that he can’t lift anything heavier than 10 pounds, and he felt lonely. I had told him to expect to have a few bad days as he deals with this, but it’s still difficult when they come. Difficult for me too. I have been through some tough situations, and I got through them so I know he will have to learn to deal with and overcome his own trials, but it’s tougher to watch my son struggle then to go through difficult situations myself. When life seems terrible a person isn’t always ready to hear advice, so there’s not a lot I can do except hug him and tell him I love him.
By the next morning, JJ was doing better even though he hadn’t slept much the night before. I asked him if he wanted to go to the store with me for a change of scenery. He said he did, so we drove off for a drive through the beautiful autumn countryside to the store. I love car rides because they provide such wonderful opportunities to talk. An Internet friend had told JJ that he was “boring.” Honestly, I had a brief moment in which I felt like punching that Internet friend. JJ doesn’t need stuff like that right now.
However, I restrained myself and I told my son that I had just had some awesome insight the other day that “everyone is the star of his own life” and they all interpret everything from their own perspectives. This means that their own desires and needs seem more important than those of others. This sounds–and can be–selfish, but really all we have is our perspective to see things through. A healthy person can understand that just because something isn’t important to him, it doesn’t mean it’s not important to another person, and to also value what’s important to others. A healthy person will also understand that there must be a balance between caring for others and caring for ourselves. I mean, it’s possible to put others first to an unhealthy extent. I think it sounds really spiritual to say “always put others first” and I used to try to always put others first, but after many years I realized that there is no way I–or anyone–can meet all the expectations and demands of others and stay sane. No one can please everyone all the time. The key is balance. For example, last weekend was EJ’s mother’s birthday, and a sister-in-law emailed us to see if we were going. I recognized that it was very important to her, more important, at that moment, than anything else. Normally, it would have been very important to us to go too. However, right now our most important focus is JJ’s health. Doing what is best for him comes first above everything else. We won’t go to functions if we determine that JJ can’t handle it. EJ would have gone to the party without us except he had to work last weekend. So in this situation we put our own family before others, even those we love deeply. I know that some people get upset if others don’t do what they think is important, but I’ve come to believe that most people do the best they can and when there is different desires and expectations and choices, people have to determine what they can or cannot do. I tend to not get upset if others make decisions that do not agree with mine. In fact, I try to encourage people to put their own families first, and I respect their rights to make their own decisions.
Anyway, I told JJ on our drive to the store that if someone is “different,” people often call that one “weird, stupid, boring, or not funny.” I had a sister who told me throughout my childhood that I was “boring” because I liked to read. I did other things too, but any time I did something she didn’t want to do–like read–she told me I was boring. She told me so often that I believed her and for a long time I didn’t think anyone would like me because I was “boring.” But eventually I realized that I was boring only to people like her. There are plenty of people, including my husband, who think I am interesting and who appreciate that I read and ponder–because they also love to read and ponder. Through many of our adult years, this same sister told me that I wasn’t funny. She even said loudly at her birthday party a few years ago, “See, TJ? This is what it’s like to have fun.” It got very annoying, but I refused to let it define me. We are different people, not the same. I have lots of fun, and plenty of people appreciate my sense of humor, but my sister never really understood me. To her, because I was different from her, I was “less.” I think her humor tends to be more goofy, which I think is delightful, while mine is more witty, which is also delightful. So, I told JJ again, people don’t always understand others, and they label them odd or weird or boring just because they are different. Appreciate the differences in others. “Different” does not mean “wrong.” Realize that we all have some undesirable traits, and we always have areas in which we need to improve, but don’t always take what others say as “reality.” It’s only their perspective. People will come into his life some day who truly appreciates and love who he is: a compassionate, intelligent, and witty young man. It just takes a while sometimes to find compatible friends.
JJ and I had an enjoyable time at the store. On the way home, he was so tired that he fell asleep. I dropped him off home so he could go to bed, and then I drove two blocks to our grain elevator to buy some cat and dog food.
As I was arriving home, I got a text from my friend who lives in another state. She told me that she had googled to find Chubby’s, JJ’s favorite restaurant in own town. She called them up, asked them if they knew JJ (to make sure she had the correct restaurant) and then paid for some meals there. She said she didn’t live close enough to bring us a meal, so she bought some meals for him at Chubby’s. I thought that was incredibly and creatively sweet. I have some very sweet friends who have given us some wonderful gifts: a fragrant candle left at our door, money sent to buy groceries for JJ, a delicious homemade apple pie brought to us by a dear neighbor, a friend’s visit and the lending of a favorite movie, a donation can in Chubby’s to help with medical expenses. We are all very touched by such expressions of love. “See?” I told JJ. “People really love and care about you.”
Birds eating bread from my brick pillar
Every Friday morning I make Challah Bread. If we don’t eat it all, I always put the leftovers outside for the birds to eat. The bread is so special that I hate to just throw it away in the trash. It won’t be long before snow starts to fall, and I didn’t want the bread crumbs to get lost in the snow, so yesterday afternoon I built a simple pillar out of stacked bricks outside my kitchen window where I can watch the birds as I do dishes. Then I put the bread crumbs on top. This morning I saw that the birds were visiting the pillar. I might move the pillar though because it is somewhat blocked by the post the birdhouse is on.
This post is really a continuation of my thoughts from yesterday about giving and receiving.
I have been learning Hebrew for the last few years. It really is a fascinating language filled with deep meaning. I think it’s impossible to learn the language without also learning deep insights into spiritual truths and how to live life.
In studying Hebrew, I have learned that much of Western culture is built upon Greek thinking. The Greeks were logical thinkers, They discussed abstract ideas. They believed in cause and result, and that if A was true then B could not be true. This is contrasted with Hebrew thinking, which was very concrete and action oriented. The Hebrews didn’t discuss beliefs they lived their beliefs. They were comfortable with mystery, and they believed that two opposite things could both be truth. “These also are the words of God,” they say. While a Greek-thinking person would argue whether we chose God or God chose us, a Hebrew-thinking person would say that both were true: God chose us and we choose Him. The Bible is filled with these opposite truths, these paradoxes: God is sovereign yet man has freewill, Yeshua (Jesus) was God and also man, the Bible was written by men but was God-breathed, and so on.
I believe that we have to hold on to both opposite truths. If we go too far to one extreme or another we fall into error. A lot of church denominations have split because some believed one truth and not its opposite.
What does this have to do with giving and receiving?
As I wrote yesterday, I believe that if we must stay balanced between giving and receiving. If we give and refuse to receive, we fall into one kind of error, and if we receive but refuse to give we fall into another kind of error.
Today I was thinking of something Watchman Nee wrote in his book, Changed Into His Likeness: “The distinctive feature of true Christianity is that it compels people to receive.”
It’s very humbling to have to be the receiver. To receive, a person must admit that he has a need, that he can’t handle life on his own. We can’t receive God’s forgiveness if we can’t acknowledge that we need forgiveness. We can’t receive His mercy unless we acknowledge that we need mercy. We can’t receive His comfort if we can’t acknowledge that we need comforting. In order to obtain what God has to give us, we have to be willing to receive.
As I wrote yesterday, I’ve observed that people who give but refuse to receive often have a facade of strength, but they can become too proud to admit their weakness and need. If they can’t accept the help of other people, they cut off a lot of God’s care because often God supplies our needs, gives us comfort, and lifts us up through people. I often think of a short story in which a man was stranded on the roof of his house as a result of major flooding in his area. He asked God to rescue him. A short time later a helicopter hovered overhead and a person called out to ask him if he needed help. “No,” the man replied. “God will rescue me.” The helicopter flew away. A bit later, a speedboat came by, and those in the boat asked if they could rescue him. “No, God will rescue me.” Off sped the speedboat. Then a man in a rowboat came by. “Do you need help?” “No. God will rescue me.” Away went the rowboat. At this, God called from heaven, “I’ve sent you a helicopter, a speedboat, and a rowboat…what more do you want???” If we can’t accept the help God sends through others, we are actually rejecting His gifts.
Yet, those who always receive and never give are often very self-centered, moaning about their troubles with very little compassion for others who are hurting. There are times when we are all weak and needy and we cannot go on without someone to lift us up and help us get back on our feet. (In the Biblical story, the sick man could not have made it to Yeshua without the help of his friends who carried him.) However, at some point we need to reach out to others who are also suffering. Even as my family suffers with JJ’s cancer, there are people around us who are struggling with severe illness or other problems. They are reaching out with comfort to me (which I receive) but I also try to reach out with comfort to them (giving to them). We must both give and receive. Sometimes we are able to give more, and sometimes we must receive more, but in the end it’s a balance between the two.
I think giving and receiving go hand in hand: How can you give if no one receives? Yet, how can you receive if no one gives?The curious thing is that when one person gives and the other person gratefully receives, the recipient gives a blessing to the giver by their receiving of his gift.
This morning I called JJ’s college instructors to talk to them about his classes. Of course, since I didn’t know their teaching schedules, I got their voice mail. One instructor, who teaches JJ’s stress management class, called back later. I told her that JJ wouldn’t be able to drive to the college for classes, and I asked if there any way he could do his assignments on-line. She said “Absolutely” so I handed the phone to JJ to discuss assignments with her. He talked to her for quite awhile and then told me that she said that he could write journal entries. If he couldn’t write, she’d accept a phone call as a journal entry. She said that he could call her at any time if he had questions. JJ had been nervous about talking to his instructors about school, but I had told him that I thought that talking to them would be very encouraging and would set his mind at rest. I was right. I expect that talking to the other instructors will also be as encouraging.
I’m glad we are getting this college issue addressed.
Since JJ started working at McDonalds last May, he has enjoyed ordering takeout from a little local diner, and then walking the two blocks to pick it up. The diner has only been in business for about a year, and JJ loves the food. He has gone there so often that he has developed a rapport with the husband/wife owners. Today JJ asked if he could have his favorite meal from Chubby’s, and since we are trying to fatten him up, I called in the order. After she took my order, the owner asked, “Is this for our boy?” I said yup! “It will be ready in 15 minutes,” she replied.
When I walked down to pick up the meal, the woman told me that she and her husband really care about JJ and he has supported their business so they would really like to support him by putting a donation can in their diner to raise money to help with his medical expenses. She wondered if I would mind. I could see the love in her face and was very touched. I could see that she wanted to do something for JJ so I gave her permission.
I think it’s difficult to accept help sometimes. However, I have heard from several cancer support groups/people that if support is offered, we should accept it. I also remembered something that I observed and pondered several years ago regarding two friends.
One friend loved to give to others, but she never wanted to receive. She only let people see her strengths. Whenever she was struggling, she’d withdraw. The other friend loved to receive, but she never really gave. She cried for hours about her problems and how no one cared, but when her friends were hurting and needed her, she ditched the friendship. These two friends taught me a lot about giving and receiving. It’s sort of complicated to describe though, so I hope I can make sense.
I believe that there is a positive and a negative side to giving and to receiving, and to be well-balanced, we need to be able to do both: to both give and receive.
What I observed is that in giving, a person learns to be generous, to care for others, to be other-centered rather than self-centered. When a person gives, she allows God to use her to bless others and she receives a blessing in return. It’s amazing to be used of God to help others.
However, I’ve also observed that if a person insists on always being the one to give and she never allows others give to her, she can become arrogant. She can see herself as the strong one, who is never, ever weak or needy. She is the wise one with all the answers. I’ve seen such a one begin to treat others with contempt because they are weak. I’ve seen her believe she has to protect others from the truth because “they can’t handle truth.” Also, no one is strong all the time, and having to maintain a facade of strength can be exhausting, as well as lead to hypocrisy. It can cause a person to feel like a martyr and to become resentful of always having to give to others.
In a way, I think the Only-Givers who have to be the strongest and wisest sort of feed off of the weakness of others. Because they have to be the strongest, the wisest, the most generous, they force people in their lives to be only receivers. Because they have to be the ones who generously bless, they steal from others the opportunity to bless. They do not experience God’s blessing because they reject the need to be given to.
I have also observed that a person who receives gets to experience the awesome help God gives through others. It is so amazing to have a desperate need, and then to have the need miraculously met. It can be humbling to have to accept help, but in receiving from others, a person learns humility, which is an important trait to learn.
One the other hand, I’ve observed that a person who always receives and never gives is in danger of becoming self-centered and overly dependent. Such a person becomes almost a vampire, sucking strength from others. These people never experience the joy of helping others.
I believe that the healthiest people are those who can both give AND receive. They get to be a blessing to others by giving, but they also give others the opportunity to be a blessing as well when they are willing to receive. They get to be used of God to help others, but they also let others be used of God. They learn to be other-centered by giving, but they learn humility through receiving.
Sometimes when someone gives to me abundantly, I feel humbled by their generosity, I thank God for using them to provide for us in awesome ways. I also remind myself how much I am joyfully blessed when I am able to help others. and I think “So why would I want to selfishly deny others that same blessing by rejecting their generosity?”
Giving and Receiving
Today, when I saw the love on the face of the owner of the diner as she described the way she wanted to give to JJ, I thought.
Here there be love.
And I accepted it, even though it was humbling, because I know that I am blessed when others accept my loving help when they are in need.
Last night we had to turn the clocks back an hour. I was quite glad because it meant that we’d get an extra hour of sleep. I was extremely dismayed when I had trouble getting to sleep, and tossed and turned all night. I haven’t been getting enough sleep. I fall asleep well enough, but sometimes my sleep is fitful and I always wake early.
Because of the fitful night, I was VERY tired when I woke this morning. I felt like I hadn’t slept at all, but I had to do laundry and go to the store. Usually EJ goes with me, but he’s worked every weekend for the past two or three weeks, and he is very tired. The overtime is a blessing right now, but he doesn’t get a chance to rest. His back is also hurting a lot.
So I loaded the clothes in the car and went off to the laundromat alone. After the clothes were washed, I loaded them into the car and headed to the store in the town ten miles away. Although I was foggy with tiredness, I really enjoyed the drive. The scenery is very lovely. As I drove along, I saw a cat pounce on something in the weeds along the road. I wonder what his prey was?
I was hoping to get some Melatonin, a natural sleep aid. Our family doctor had told JJ when he saw her a week or so ago that he could take some if he wasn’t sleeping well. JJ asked me to buy him some a day or so ago because his sleep patterns are all messed up. He is awake most of the night and sleeps through the morning. I asked him if he wasn’t sleeping well because he is a night owl or because he is stressed about the cancer, and he replied “a little of both.”
I couldn’t find any Melatonin at our usual grocery store and the lone pharmacist was so busy waiting on customers at the counter and the drive-thru that I didn’t want to wait. As I waited in line to pay for a few other items, I saw that the man in front of me had a cart full of plants–a large foliage plant, two bouquets of cut flowers, and seven or eight potted flowers of various kinds. I was very curious about why he was buying so many, and I tried to guess the story behind the purchase. Everyone has a story of some kind or another.
After the grocery store, I headed to a Rite-Aid pharmacy down the street. I found some Melatonin on sale (buy one, get another for half-price), and I also bought some Echinacea tea. It’s supposed to boost the immune system. i figured JJ and I could take the Melatonin and we could all drink the tea because we are all tired and need to remain healthy. (EJ isn’t having trouble sleeping. He sleeps well, but is tired from working so much.)
I stopped at one more store for a laundry hamper, and then headed home. I was thankful that EJ had started lunch. I put the groceries away and got the first basket of clothes loaded into the dryer.
When I came into the living room, I saw several ants crawling around. They had been in a piece of firewood we had brought into the house. I killed them, and saw more…and more. Ugh! We have used our woodstove for more than 20 years and never have had such a problem with bugs in the fire wood. This has been such a horrible year for bugs. I spread around some Borax and also sprayed some organic pest spray that is safe around pets. I found the log that the ants were hiding in and threw it in the fire. As I did, I quoted from Firefly, a favorite TV program from the early 2000s: “You are going to burn in a very special kind of Hell.” I needed to get rid of the source of the insects, and I couldn’t keep from quoting from the program.
I was so tired that as soon as EJ left for work, I curled up on the loveseat and tried to take a nap. I dozed a bit, enough to revive me a little, but didn’t really sleep deeply. Mostly I have spent the day longing for night so I can try to sleep. I’ve always called these sorts of days “Soul Sighing Days” because it feels as if I’m so deep down tired that my soul sighs through the day.
This evening, my computer broke again and shut itself off. I described the problem to our friend who fixed it a month or so ago. Since the fan made a loud noise both times before the computer stopped charging and turned itself off, he said there is a good chance that the main board in my laptop is faulty, However, he will begin by changing the fan and see if that solves the problem. I really, really, REALLY hate being without my computer, even though EJ is nice enough to share his with me when mine isn’t working. I’m using his computer right now to write this blog. Being without a computer feels like one problem too many.
Other than not sleeping well, I am doing mostly good. I am hopeful, not discouraged. I’m just tired.
JJ was supposed to get a full body CT Scan before his surgery, but the hospital had neglected to scan his chest. So Thursday morning we had to get one done. The woman who scheduled the scan gave us a choice of where to have it, and EJ chose to have it done at an imagining center near the doctor’s office instead of at the hospital. He said it was easier to get to, although I would have gotten lost if I had had to take JJ by myself. I can find the hospital because it’s down the street from where I used to work. I get lost very easily.
I checked the date and time of the scan several times through the week to make sure I had it correct. Both EJ and I are tired and stressed enough that we find ourselves forgetting things. Just this afternoon, for example, I carefully removed the seeds from the fennel plant I had been drying. I had grown the fennel in my herb garden. I was looking for a container to put the seeds in, and then forgot what I was doing and threw them in the woodstove. I was so appalled when I realized what I had done. Fatigue and stress are definitely affecting us a bit, even though otherwise we are doing pretty well.
When we arrived at the center on Thursday, the woman at the counter said she didn’t see JJ’s appointment listed. Then she said, “Oh, his scan is scheduled for tomorrow, not today!” I showed her my piece of paper with the information on it. It said the scan was that day and time. Someone had written down the information incorrectly. It wasn’t my mistake! It’s an hour drive there, so my heart sunk at the thought of having to come back tomorrow. However, the lady said she’d try to fit us in since we were already there.
After she got the information she needed, she showed us a waiting room and we sat down. I’ve been observing the colors of hospitals and doctor rooms. I hate blue doctor’s offices and hospitals. Blue makes the rooms feel cold and unfriendly. (In fact, science fiction and horror movies are often filmed with a bluish tint to set the mood of high-tech, dystopian, or horror scenes.) I like warm colors that are more inviting. This waiting room was a warm color. It was Halloween day and somewhere back in the inner rooms was a motion sensing decoration. Periodically we could hear OOOOOOOoooooooo groans. It was sort of creepy, but also funny.
JJ was more nervous this time than last time. Last time he didn’t know what to expect. This time he knew what the “milkshake” tasted like and what it felt like to have an IV in his arm. However, he left and was back in about ten minutes. He didn’t have to have a milkshake or IV. It was surprising.
Friday was the day I decided to tackle the college dilemma again. I struggle to know what to do with it, since every action requires information that I need from someone else. EJ and I decided to drive to the college so we could talk to people face-to-face. The women in the Student Center were helpful and now I know my next step with them, which is to talk to the teachers more specifically about whether or not JJ can do their assignments from home, and if he can get an Incomplete if he can’t get his work completed before the term ends. I’ll get started on that next week.
Since we are now pretty much in a holding plan, waiting to meet with the doctor again, I find myself a bit tired and just wanting to veg out. We have signed up for free 30 days subscription to Amazon Prime and Netflix so we can watch movies while JJ recovers. When I’m not busy going to the store, fixing meals, cleaning the house, talking to the college, and conversing with friends, I am snuggled with a blanket and a cat or two, enjoying movies. Sometimes I doze a bit on the loveseat.
A few days ago, a Facebook friend sent me this picture and said, “I suspect this would be you if it weren’t for your blog…” I love this picture because it is so very much true of me. Thoughts fill my head but they rarely get said. (Did you notice that the last sentence rhymes?) Except in writing. I can hold back spoken words better than I can hold back written ones. And the more difficult life becomes, the more the words flow. It’s like a dam: sunny days or light rain does not affect a dam, but heavy rains and flooding increases the pressure on it until flood gates must be opened to release the pressure so the dam doesn’t crack and destroy picturesque villages in the path of destruction.
Life inside my head.
EJ, JJ, and I love to tell stories. It must be the Irish-Norwegian ancestry in us. We weave fantastical stories out of common place items and events. Sometimes one begins the story and others add to it.
I have fun, for example, when EJ or JJ asks me a question that there is no way I would know the answer to–such as “What is that man doing?” or “Why is his car dented?” as we drive through the countryside. I’ve never seen the person before and never will again–how am I supposed to know what or why? So I make up a story about it: “That man is Fred’s cousin’s wife’s brother’s son. His car is dented because last night he accidentally ran over Big Foot…” is much more interesting than “How am I supposed to know?” I bought a goblet years ago to use whenever JJ got sick, and I’d laugh evilly whenever I handed him the goblet of bubbling Theraflu or Airborne. After he drank it, I always dramatically quoted a line from The Emperor’s New Groove: “A Llama???? You’re supposed to be dead!” Last week, when we were sitting alone in the doctor’s office, JJ showed me some greenish-yellow bruising on his arm. I really think it was bruising caused by the IV or blood test needles, and I did ask the doctor to confirm that later. However, when JJ showed it to me, I examined it intensely and then whispered dramatically, “Oh, no! JJ, I really think you might be turning into a zombie!” It’s much more interesting to consider that he might be turning into a zombie than that his arm is merely bruised.
We have an interesting inner life, and are rarely bored. But outside we look normal, like superheroes in disguise. At least, I think we look normal?
I can so totally relate to Anne Shirley’s imagination in the book, Anne of Green Gables, and to Rick Castle’s love of weaving stories on the TV program, Castle. They are kindred spirits.
Oh, this topic brings up a memory of when JJ was little. We were reading about medieval times and I got him a knight’s costume–armor, helmet, and sword. I, as the Queen Mother, ceremoniously touched him with a sword and declared him a knight of the realm. He wore his knight’s costume all that day as we did various tasks around town, courageously and nobly protecting me from all harm. He gallantly stopped me at intersections to rescue me from threatening cars. It was so precious.
I think I could maybe be a writer of books, except for one thing. At night I can’t sleep if my thoughts are running around in my head, so long ago I began to imagine stories to turn down the other thoughts and help me sleep. I have never really gotten past the backstory of my story–the reason why the characters act the way they do. One reason is that I fall asleep. But another reason is that while I can understand why the heroes of the story fight heroically, I cannot comprehend why the evil villains want to do evil. I just can’t understand the delight in oppressing people. I can understand that evil dictators or sorcerers want more power or more land or more gold, and I understand that they hate the innocents and the heroes, but where do they think their evil is going to lead? I mean, did Genghis Khan or Hitler ever think through “What next?” If they had conquered the whole world, killed all their enemies, stolen all the land and gold…then what? What would Sauron, or Narnia’s white witch, or all the other evil witches and sorcerers have done if they had succeeded in plunging the world into darkness or turning all the heroes into stone? So the victorious evil ones possess all the treasure and control all the land. Everyone is afraid of them or turned into stone. What do they do next? I think they must respond as it is said that Alexander the Great did: “When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer.”
Except I just can’t imagine Sauron weeping that there are no more worlds to conquer. I think evil villains must not think very far ahead. Despite their evil, they are simplistic. They think only of possessing, not what will happen after they have possessed.
Good must ultimately be victorious because it unites and builds and heals and restores, making people stronger. Evil makes no sense, it divides and destroys the very things that would make it strong, and I believe it always must eventually collapse. I mean, no matter how much an evil overlord oppresses people, sooner or later heroes will arise to fight back. Or the son of the evil one becomes weak, hedonistic, and/or insane and loses the kingdom–like some of Caesars of Ancient Rome.
I believe that there are certain stories that become beloved classics because they contained echoes of the True Story. We love stories of the battle between good and evil, light and darkness, princes and princesses, heroes and heroines, redemption and romance, fighting dragons and monsters, challenging quests and journeys…because they echo the Very Real Story that an evil dragon has plunged the world into darkness, turning people into stone, but that a courageous prince has gone on a noble quest to slay him and rescue us, the princesses in the tower. Now we only wait for the prince to return to carry us off into the sunrise. (Not sunset. It will be a beginning, not an ending of the story.) The Bible is NOT a fairy tale, but we love stories and fairy tales because they contain elements that echo the truth. Stories and fairy tales are parables.
Years ago, EJ, JJ, and I went on vacation in Pennsylvania. We stayed at a beautiful bed and breakfast. Another family was also staying at the bed and breakfast that week. We liked each other and ended up going out to eat together at a restaurant. We talked about various things, and one thing led to another, and I ended up telling the other woman about my weird theory that I think we love stories and fairy tales because they have echoes of truth. The woman began to cry a bit. She said that as a child she used to love fairy tales, but then life was hard, and she learned that there are no princes, no happy endings. She decided that she’d never tell her kids fairy tales. However, I had just opened her eyes to the fact that even though evil often seems to win, someday the King will return, save us from the dragon, and we will all have a happy ending. The fairy tales are, in some ways, true.
Ok, I can’t resist sharing this favorite clip from the movie, Galaxy Quest. I love this movie. It both pokes fun at and honors Sci-Fi stories like Star Trek.
An epic tale.
Anyway, just so you know, the battle my family is fighting against cancer is not merely about hospital visits and cancer treatments. No. We are fighting a monster that is trying to eat our son. A Fellowship is forming to accompany him, made up of us, his parents, and you his friends, as well as the King. This is an epic story.
Somehow, it feels more powerful to imagine ourselves as valiant warriors fighting monsters with the King than a vulnerable family fighting a disease.
This morning I took our dirty clothes to wash at the laundromat. Our washer broke awhile ago, so we wash the clothes at the laundromat and then we bring them home to dry on our clothesline or in the dryer. Often EJ goes with me to help me, but when he’s tired or in pain, I just go alone.
This morning as I sat (alone) in the laundromat, I pondered that a few days ago the thought of doing routine tasks felt overwhelmingly stressful, but today it felt like a touch of normalcy. Then I thought that although I would like to get moving QUICKLY, without pause, to get JJ’s cancer treated and cured so we can get back to normal life, I am rather cherishing the opportunity to have some moments to catch my breath before the next flurry of medical activity.
Sabotage
This reminded me of an old Hitchcock interview we watched on TMC a couple of months ago. I love Hitchcock movies. He was a masterful director of suspense. The TMC channel aired a marathon of Hitchcock movies that weekend, one of which was a movie I had never seen before called Sabotage. In the movie, a man named Mr. Verloc was part of a gang of foreign saboteurs operating out of London during World War 2. He managed a small cinema with his wife and her teenage brother as a cover, but they knew nothing of his secret. Scotland Yard assigned an undercover detective to work at the shop next to the cinema in order to observe the gang. At one point, Mr. Verloc had to place a bomb in a building to go off at a certain time, but he was being watched so he handed the bomb, wrapped as a package, to his wife’s brother and asked him to deliver it before a certain time without fail. I watched with breathless fear as the unsuspecting boy traveled across the city on bus and by foot, getting slowed and hindered by various events. Always there was the alternating fear and hope that the boy would get rid of the package before it was too late. It was a complete shock when the boy was too late and was killed when the bomb detonated. In the interview later that night, Hitchcock described that scene and said it was a mistake. He said when he saw the disbelief and shock on the faces of the audience in the theatre, he realized that at various points of the story, as the suspense builds, there needs to be moments in which tension is released so the audience can catch their breath and not be pushed over the edge of emotion. He said if he could do it over again, he would have had the boy escape at the last moment.
I think people going through suffering needs moments of release too. We need to be able to catch our breath. We need to find moments of laughter and moments of normalcy.
Throughout his life, JJ has sometimes said to me, “You are weird.” I’ve often replied “Thank you” or “I’m not weird, I’m unique.” Other times I’ve reminded him that my life goal is to become an eccentric old lady. I’d love to be like the old lady in the following video. I’m not there yet, but I’m really trying to work towards it.
There are times when I agree with JJ that I am probably very weird.
One of the ways in which I am probably weird is that I am the only one I know who sees value in Pity Parties. Ok, before you stop reading, maybe you should let me explain. And, by the way, I am not currently feeling sorry for myself. If I were feeling sorry for myself, I would be unable to write about Pity Parties. I’d be too miserable.
It would be totally awesome if we could always be bursting with faith and hope and joy, no matter what happened to us. However, most of us are human and the reality is that life can be scary and sad and painful, and there are times we cry and shiver and groan…and even, on occasion, feel sorry for ourselves. I say “most of us are human” because I secretly suspect that those who don’t have ups and downs might actually be robots, aliens (Vulcun?), or superheroes. I confess that sometimes I want to pinch them or take a blood sample. Most of the rest of us are humans, which means we struggle a bit, even though not everyone describes it at Facebook or in a blog.
People have different ways of coping and release (even robots, aliens, and superheroes). One of my ways of coping when I am feeling sorry for myself is to throw a Pity Party. Here is how I do it and also my guidelines:
No one can throw a Pity Party for another person. We have to be careful to not be insensitive or callous. There is real heartbreak out there, deep pain, and scary stuff like cancer. I think it’s ok to be sad in a sad situation, to groan when we are in pain, or to be scared when the situation is scary. I even think it’s ok if a person feels a scream building up inside, to go out and scream with all his might, as loudly as possible, just to release the pressure. But not where people might hear and call the police.
These emotions are not self-pity. When my son’s beloved cat died years ago and he said, “I’m feeling really sad,” I responded with “It is very sad that your cat died, so go ahead and be sad for a while.” When he currently says, “I hate this hospital procedure” or “I’m scared,” I reply, “I hate it too.” or “It’s a scary thing, but we are here.” His emotions are valid.
However, I confess that over the years when my son has wailed about a miniscule paper cut, I have been known to callously say, “Suck it up, Cupcake.” I mean, I couldn’t even see the cut with a microscope. And when I’ve complained about something minor, my family has said the same to me.
Pity Party Invitation to myself.
I usually throw a Pity Party when I recognize that I am mired in feeling sorry for myself. I think a person can be as simple or creative as they wish when planning their parties. A person can invite guests but usually I only invite myself to my Pity Parties. It’s difficult to feel sorry for myself if there are other guests. Usually, I just start humming my Pity Party Song, which is just a couple of lines of an old song: “It’s my Party, and I can cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to…you would cry too if it happened to you.” There are a lot of other cool Pity Party songs out there. For example, If It Weren’t For Bad Luck, I’d Have No Luck at All was song on a 1970’s TV program called HeeHaw. It’s wonderful. I love the dramatic groans. EJ says that when he or his siblings were feeling sorry for themselves, their Mom used to sing, “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I’ll go eat worms.” Then there is “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” and “Nobody’s Seen the Troubles I’ve Seen.” The last song should be sung in the lowest voice possible.
Pity Party Balloons
The only time I threw a Pity Party for a friend was when she, herself, told me that she was feeling sorry for herself. I exclaimed, “Oh! Oh! Can I Throw You a Pity Party?” She said I could so I sent her pictures of Pity Party balloons and cupcakes on Facebook. We had so much fun celebrating her self-pity that we laughed and the party was totally ruined.
Which is the whole point. The value of a Pity Party, whether I invite others or only myself, is that it causes me to make fun of myself, to see the humor of my misery, and to distract my mind. Soon I am back to seeing my situation more positively. I suppose that if you want to get all technical and psychological, I’ve read that it is sometimes help to engage in pity for a little while so you can face it, deal with it, and move on. The goal is to not get stuck in misery. A Pity Party is a way to release tension and stress.
Of course, I believe strongly in the Bible and prayer, and I believe those are absolutely necessary to help. But I also believe that we can use other measures as well. Sometimes the best spiritual help is practical help. As James 2:15-17 says:
Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food, and someone says to him, “Shalom! Keep warm and eat hearty!” without giving him what he needs, what good does it do? Thus, faith by itself, unaccompanied by actions, is dead.
Sometimes what we need is a way to release tension and a reason to laugh.
My blog is called “I Love To Go A Gardening” so I thought I ought to throw in something garden-ish: A month or so ago–a lifetime ago–I dug up a few herbs from my garden and I bought a couple more from the Farm Market. I really hoped to be able to have fresh herbs all winter long. This morning as I opened the curtains, I noticed that several of the plants are yellowing and shriveling up. Oops, bummer, and oh well. I have been neglecting to water them enough, but I’ve had other things to think about.
“Well,” I thought with a bit of humor, “at least I am remembering to feed the pets.” Then I remembered that I was late giving my dog Danny his pill. He hasn’t been feeling well. I took him to the vet about a week ago and the vet said that Danny’s lungs aren’t clear so he gave me antibiotics to give him. I have to give him a pill twice a day and a capsule three times a day. Danny has been taking the pill well enough, but he spits out the capsule so I have been feeding it to him with a little bit of leftover meatloaf. He loves the meatloaf enough that he gobbles it and the capsule down. However, this morning I only had a morsel of meatloaf left, and it apparently wasn’t enough because he spit the capsule out on the floor. So I looked around and saw crackers on the counter and thought, “that will do.” When I turned back around, I saw that Danny must have picked up the capsule again (he eats anything that falls to the ground) and spit it out again, only this time he had spit it out on the cat. The pill was stuck to Little Bear’s fur. LOL. I did finally get Danny to eat the med sandwiched in cracker. That made me laugh.
Last night I felt overwhelmed, stressed, fragile, and panicky. I did not feel panicky about my son’s prospects. (Although sometimes what he is experiencing scares me.) From what I hear, there is a HUGE reason to hope. A lot of people survive this type of cancer. It’s kind of cool that EJ works with this guy who never told anyone that he had had cancer a few years ago but for some reason he suddenly began to pour out his heart to EJ a few days ago. Co-workers tend to pour out their heart to my hubby. At the time, the co-worker didn’t know that our son was just diagnosed with cancer. It turns out that he had the very same type of cancer that JJ has, only much worse, and he survived. He has become a valuable encouragement and resource for EJ.
No, I didn’t feel overwhelmed, stressed, fragile, and panicky about JJ, but about what on earth I’m supposed to feed him.
EJ’s Mom always cooked from scratch when he was growing up, so he loves homemade food. I’ve tried, more and more and as much as possible, to make homemade. Since we’ve married, we’ve never bought many prepackaged meals, although we haven’t eaten as healthy as we could have either. In recent years we have tried to improve our eating habits. We absolutely think food has an affect on our bodies. After reading about pink slime in beef, honey that has all the good stuff filtered out, GMOs and pesticides, we read labels more, buy our meat at a meat market most of the time, and buy organic as much as possible. I grow most of the herbs I use. I even buy cinnamon sticks and ginger and grind them myself.
We also “like” pages on Facebook about healthy and unhealthy foods and processes so that we can learn to eat more healthy. And that’s the problem. There’s a ton of information out there, pouring into our brains. It can be a bit overwhelming. It’s hard to make major changes all at once, so I’ve been trying to take it slower, one step at a time, changing this and tweaking that. But still, we have eliminated a lot of foods and ingredients from our diet. I no longer can mentally think of the recipes I can make with the ingredients I have in my fridge and pantry. I have to think more intentionally about my menu and go searching on-line for things to make. It’s sort of stressful.
Some people love to cook. Cooking is their “warm fuzzy,” their therapy, their artistic expression. Cooking to them is like writing, reading, walking, or gardening is to me. Cooking to me is sort of like mowing the lawn. I can do it well enough, I don’t hate it, I can find pleasure in it, but it’s something on my To Do List, not on my “If I could do anything I wanted, I’d do this” List. In fact, if I were wealthy, one of the first things I’d do is hire a chef. Let him or her worry about what to have for dinner.
But now JJ is sick and there’s all these resources about how to fight cancer naturally, and juicing, and all that. It’s too much. I ranted to EJ in frustration last night that according to all the sources, meat, dairy, bread, sugar, rice, noodles and canned tomatoes are all very bad. That leaves fruits and veggies–but we must be careful about GMOs and toxic pesticides. I used to LOVE fruits and veggies but a lot of them are tasteless to me these days. We speculate that it could be the GMOs or the fact that farmers harvest them before they are ripe so that they don’t rot on the way to where they are being shipped. Whatever, they just don’t taste as well as they used to. I do my best to cook tasty nutritious meals, but I just don’t have all that much to work with anymore. When I do find a usable recipe, JJ doesn’t always like it. I feel as if the only ingredients I have to work with are ground beef, potatoes, and carrots. Not entirely true, of course, but if I have one more meal of ground beef, potatoes, and carrots, I think I’m going to VOMIT.
Cooking is becoming a stress-filled ordeal.
And now my son is sick and he’s scary thin. He needs to have some meat on his bones, especially if he gets sick from chemo. He is deciding to have the treatment the doctors recommend. This is his battle, he must believe in the treatment, and we will support his choices completely.
But “What the *^$!@&# am I supposed to feed him???” I swore in panic last night. Ok, I never swear and I really didn’t swear last night, but I did briefly imagine swear symbols. As EJ sometimes quotes, “Some situations are bad enough to make even a preacher swear”…or think in swear symbols.
So we talked about it. All three of us. With a bit of humor. JJ said that he found a list of foods that cause or feed cancer on the Internet, and really the only thing that he can eat is soy cakes. “Soy is bad for you,” his Dad quipped. I said that there actually were two types of foods that I have heard only good about and nothing bad. What’s that? “Herbs and spices.” “I am freakin’ not going to just eat herbs and spices,” JJ exclaimed dramatically.
EJ and I developed a plan, a plan customized to our situation. We decided that a good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow. JJ absolutely needs to eat and fatten up. He needs food that appeals to him. What’s the use of trying to find only completely healthy foods if JJ won’t eat them? In the battle to overcome cancer, I don’t want him to starve to death. This morning I told EJ that I didn’t even know what meals to plan for anymore. We should go shopping, but what am I even supposed to buy? “How about ground beef, potatoes, and carrots?” he asked innocently. I gave him a dirty look and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
So while JJ slept this morning, EJ and I drove to the grocery store. We tried to buy the healthiest options that were available–organic if possible–of the foods that would appeal to JJ. Our main consideration is buying foods that will tempt JJ to eat heartily. Our slogan has become WWJE…What Would JJ Eat? We actually had quite a bit of fun shopping today: “Oh, I think he would enjoy this!” or “This looks interesting. Let’s buy it and see if he likes it.”
I actually feel a great sense of relief now. Uncertainty always fills me with vague looming anxiety–similar to the feeling of having a term paper worth half my grade due on Monday, and I hadn’t begun it. It’s like hearing a crunching and rustling in the forest and not knowing what it is. But now I have direction, a plan, a goal. My stress about food is reduced. Whew.
The next uncertainty concerns JJ’s college. I had been in contact with the college, but until our appointment with the doctor I didn’t know if JJ needed further treatment or not so I didn’t know if he should withdraw from his classes. I tried to ask the doctor how chemo will likely affect him and whether he will feel well enough to work and go to school. “Now don’t go doing anything rash, don’t go cancelling everything. We aren’t at that point yet…” Grrrr. I hate a person acting as if every question I ask means I am imagining the worse and falling apart. Maybe I am expressing myself wrong or something, but my questions are valid. We need to have answers so we can prepare ourselves and formulate plans. Thinking things through, preparing ourselves, and developing a plan does NOT lead to MORE stress in our lives, it leads to LESS. Duh. I realize that we don’t have a specific treatment plan yet, but I need to have some general idea of what to expect because I need to deal with the college. If it’s likely that JJ will not feel well enough, we need to withdraw him from his classes now, not later when it’s too late to have any hope of him receiving an incomplete. An Incomplete means he can retake the classes within the next year without paying for them again. THAT’S what I was trying to ask the doctor about.
Since the doctor appointment, I have decided that JJ is not up to college, it will be too stressful for him, so I will withdraw him and go from there.
Thinking of fun
Next, I told my guys that we must think of activities that will help us relieve stress. We must have fun in our lives. Something fun for us, that is. We don’t really enjoy visiting tourist places filled with crowds and expensive trinkets. I, in particular, am introspective and energized by quiet. I love writing, walks with my dog, working in the garden, reading/studying, and my computer. EJ works hard and suffers from severe back pain and other problems, so he often needs time to rest his body. When he’s not in agony, we often have to shop, or do things around the house, or gather firewood, or other such things. JJ loves his computer and the interaction of his friends there. Plus, he will likely not be feeling well if he has chemo. So what do we do for fun? EJ and I discussed that we all love movies, so we are strongly considering buying Amazon Prime, which includes being able to download thousands of movies. Beyond that, we are still thinking. But at least we are formulating a plan.
Addressing the food issues has decreased a lot of my stress. Getting the college issue out of the way will reduce stress even more. And we are working on the issue of stress relievers.
I was wrong when I said a few days ago that I do not like theological discussions at this time. Or…maybe I was correct. I do not like scholarly, ivory tower discussions that dissect God as if He’s something to be cut apart and examined. That statement sounds extremely harsh to me, because I am sure I have entered such discussions many times as I’ve tried to wrestle with understanding, so I’m not sure that people are really dissecting God. I also do not think such discussions are wrong. But when you go through difficult times, it’s no longer merely talking about faith, a person is suddenly plunged into it.
I love Psalms 107, particularly verses 23-32. I tend to go there when a tsunami of trouble hits:
Those who go down to the sea in ships,
plying their trade on the great ocean,
saw the works of Adonai,
his wonders in the deep.
For at his word the storm-wind arose,
lifting up towering waves.
The sailors were raised up to the sky,
then plunged into the depths.
At the danger, their courage failed them,
they reeled and staggered like drunk men,
and all their skill was swallowed up.
In their trouble they cried to Adonai,
and he rescued them from their distress.
He silenced the storm and stilled its waves,
and they rejoiced as the sea grew calm.
Then he brought them safely
to their desired port.
Let them give thanks to Adonai for his grace,
for his wonders bestowed on humanity!
Let them extol him in the assembly of the people
and praise him in the leaders’ council.
Stormy Seas
I’ve always pondered that the sailors in this tale could have safely stayed on shore, but they risked going out into the ocean and they were the ones who saw Adonai’s great works and wonders. It sounds as if the wonders they experienced occurred at a place, a time, when the storm hit, and they were overwhelmed, all their marine skill was swallowed up, their courage failed…and all they could do was cry to Adonai in desperation.
When I was growing up, my parents never took our family on vacation to amusement parks. We always went to living history types of places that taught the history of a place and people. In history classes in school, teachers taught history as if it were a list of dry facts and dates. My mother taught us that history was the lives of the people. We’d be standing at a historical place and she’d say, “Just imagine having to live like that. Having to raise the sheep, sheer them, make the wool into thread, and weave your clothes. Imagine having to cook your meal over a fire. Imagine having to cross the country in a covered wagon…Imagine.” She taught that history is really stories of real people struggling to live. It’s their day-to-day stories.
I was a child when Nixon resigned, but my Mom made us sit down in front of the TV to watch his speech because “this is history.” I have passed this down to JJ: Watch this, take note of that, observe how it affects the lives of people-because what you are seeing today will tomorrow be history. Sometimes when JJ and I have studied historical events that happened in my lifetime, I have told him what I thought or felt at the time. Because history isn’t just facts, it’s people, it’s their stories. Maybe this is why JJ loves history and he loves writing.
I think that often when we read a story, we forget that the people living it didn’t know what would happen later, at the end. We read our knowledge of how the story ends into the middle and think, “Oh the sailors trusted God and He delivered them and they sang songs of praise”–and we overlook or forget that at the time that they were living the story, they didn’t know if they would even survive.
Noah’s Flood
Sometimes when I read history or the Bible, I try to forget that I know the end of the stories, and I try to imagine what it was like to live it. We decorate baby nurseries with cute scenes of the story of Noah, forgetting that his story was an epic disaster. Imagine…What would it have been like to be Noah, “a man of honor in a den of thieves”? What would it have been like to spend years building the ark, enduring the ridicule of those around him? What would it have been like to enter the ark with all those animals, to hear the desperate cries of people drowning outside, to feel the ark rising and plunging in the flood? What would it have been like to leave the ark knowing that your family was the only people left on earth? Noah didn’t know the end of the story like we do now. Honestly, if my family was the only people to survive a world-wide disaster, I think I would get drunk too.
And what would it have been like to have been a groaning slave in Egypt, to see Moses arrive to challenge Pharoah, to have my workload increased because of Moses, to live through the plagues? And what would it be like to joyfully escape Egypt and then learn that Pharoah had sent his whole army after us? The people didn’t know that Adonai would open the sea. Jonah didn’t know if he’d live after he was swallowed by the fish. Job didn’t know that Adonai would bless his end more than his beginning. Neither did the disciples realize what would happen after that very dark day when their friend Yeshua (Jesus) was dragged off and crucified.
Sometimes I like to pair up the Psalms with the accounts of David’s stories in other parts of the Bible. Where one says that thus and so happened in a factual way, I read the same account in the Psalms to see what David felt as he was living it. One place factually explains that David encountered an enemy, in another, “Oh, Adonai, when I am overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I…” The personal story, the emotions, breathe life into the facts of the story. A writing teacher once told JJ that he must make his readers see and hear and feel what the characters in his stories see, hear, and feel. Maybe that’s why I write as I do. Really, our story could be written as “Life was normal, our son got sick, he had the following treatments, and then…” But what sort of story would that be? Let the reader see, and hear, and feel what it’s like to be a parent suffering along with a son who is severely ill. Let them enter into the story–experiencing with us the ups and downs, the hopes and fears, the laughter and tears. Let them watch the story slowly change us–into what, we do not yet know. Let them try to guess the plot twists. Let them finally, breathlessly, reach the end of the story with us…
I’ve read thousands of stories so I can usually guess the ending of a story. However, I appreciate a story that is so well developed and so well-written that it has an unexpected twist in it’s plot. A good story is not always what we expect. The characters of the story must be changed by events. They must suffer great challenge, but still there must be an end, a goodness. Like Frodo in the Lord of the Rings, who courageously bore the burden of the ring. At the end of the story I wanted him to live out his life quietly in his Hobbit Hole in the Shire, but he no longer fit there. He was changed. He did get to travel to the Grey Havens for rest, but he had to leave behind his dear friends forever. When I read a good book or watch a movie, I always savor the elements of skillful storytelling.
Battle of Helm’s Deep
I love The Lord of the Rings, one of my favorite stories. The journey, the danger, the loss, the courage, the friendships forged. At the very, very end of the story, the King returns, evil is overcome, peace reigns. Still, it took courage and perseverance for the characters, who didn’t know what the end would be. They didn’t know if they would win or perish in the fight. I’m always sitting at the edge of my seat when the enemy is overwhelming, the danger is great, and the people are reeling and struggling to hold on to hope and courage–such as at the battle of Helm’s Deep when they were so overwhelmingly outnumbered that there was no way they could survive. I’ve read and watched the story so often that I know what is going to happen next. I whisper to them with great anticipation: “Hold on! Just wait! You have no idea what is going to happen next! You are going to WIN!” I love the following scenes of Helm’s Deep from the The Lord of the Rings: There’s Always Hope and Helm’s Charge.
The village of Anatevka in Fiddler on the Roof
I also love the movie, Fiddler on the Roof. The storytelling and music are suberb. I always thought the ending was sad. I wanted the people to be able to resume life in their village where their families had lived for generations. I didn’t want them uprooted and scattered, all the history together lost, the relationships broken apart. But EJ perceptively said that if you observe carefully, all the villagers were given what they most wanted. Tevye had sung “If I were a rich man…” and he ended up moving to America, a land of opportunity. The matchmaker had longed for Jerusalem. She was headed for Israel. EJ says the end of the story is happy, not sad.
Another chapter of our story.
Anyway, my family is starting out on another chapter of our story. We are at the point where the clouds are darkening, the storm winds are beginning to strengthen, and the waves are building. I expect we are headed for a place where our lives will reach to the skies and plunge to the depths and all our skill to handle it will be swallowed up. But that’s where we will see the works of Adonai, His wonders of the deep. We are moving towards the middle of the story, building up to the climax, not yet at the end. We are readers of our own story, turning the pages, not knowing what will happen to us next. We don’t know if we will survive undamaged. I wonder if God is on the edge of His seat, whispering with anticipation, “Oh, hold on, dear ones, you have NO IDEA what will happen next!”
Night-time and first thing in the morning are the hardest times for me. I am most vulnerable then. Once I can align my thinking, I am ok. Writing is one of the tools that I use to realign my thinking. Writing, to me, is a release. If I am afraid, sad, stressed, I pour it out in writing. It’s like drawing out the toxins so they don’t remain inside. Once they are dumped in my writing, I can move on.
So after I wrote this morning, I had more strength to face the day. I got my guys up, and started fixing breakfast. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked JJ. He said, “Meh, I’m not sure I want anything…” (He is like me, not wanting to eat the moment he wakes up.) I said, “Why did I ask that question? You ARE going to eat RIGHT NOW!” “Your Mom is being a Mama Bear,” EJ said. “Yes, I am practicing for the visit to the doctor.” I started to run in place and stop and GROWL” like Sully training for work in the movie, Monster’s Inc: Run, run, run….GROWL! Run, run, run….GROWL!. JJ thought I had totally lost it and gone off the deep end.
We started off as the sun was rising. It was a beautiful sunset with vibrant colors, and beams of light shooting out from the clouds. Also, the autumn trees are gorgeous. I didn’t have my camera with me, but the sky sort of looked like this picture I found on the Internet.
We did not meet with Dr. Y. who operated on JJ. Instead, we met with Dr. G. I think he is the doctor who deals with follow-up appointments or something. He told us that JJ’s cancer was contained in the testicle. Good news. However, the pathology report showed that there were three different types of cancer cells in the mass. Apparently there are a lot of different types of cancer cells. One testicular cancer cell is so sensitive to radiation that it practically withers from a flashlight. Unfortunately, JJ does NOT have that sort of cancer. His cancer cells are not responsive to radiation, and one type is particularly tricky to cure.
Dr. G. said that they are going to present JJ’s case to the Tumor Board in a couple of weeks. The Tumor Board is a committee of doctors from different medical fields who will discuss JJ’s case and decide on a treatment. Most likely JJ will need some chemo and maybe a surgery, but that won’t be known until the Board meets. Dr. G. said it’s also possible that JJ could be sent to a hospital in Indiana that specializes in testicular cancer.
Eric said that sometimes life has really “kicked us in the nuts.” The doctor asked, “Did you just make a testicle joke….in front of your son???” And we all laughed. We gotta find humor where we find it.
I asked about alternative diet treatments, and also if there was any foods that JJ ought to eat or not eat. Dr. G. was quite strong in saying that especially in JJ’s case he should not seek natural treatments. He also said that there were no diet restricts. JJ could eat what he wanted. I feel that everyone sees and solves problems according to their belief system: A doctor who treats cancer with chemo will think that’s best and a doctor who beliefs in natural methods will think that’s best. Although this doctor says JJ can eat whatever he wants, I see the value of healthy food and so will try to find him good things to eat.
JJ has always been funny, intelligent, and compassionate, and he has also always been extremely strong-willed. If he doesn’t understand or agree with something, he will dig in his heels and not budge. I have sometimes told him (and myself) that there are negative and positive sides to a strong will and he needs to be able to channel his strong-will into the positive side, learning when to stand firm and when to give in. I have told him in the past that a strong-will can be stubbornness or rebellion or it can be persistence, endurance, determination. A few days ago, I told him that THIS is a time when he MUST use his superpower of strong-will. He must dig in and FIGHT. And JJ is also using his strong will to decide for himself what treatment he wants to pursue. We can advise and help, but in the end HE will make the final decisions on treatment. It won’t be any other way because JJ will determinedly choose what he chooses. And this, really is what we want: an adult who can make his own choices.
Anyway, we won’t know much about treatment or anything until we meet with Dr. Y after the Tumor Board has discussed his case. In the meantime, we have to get JJ another CT scan on October 31. He was supposed to have a full body scan before his surgery, but the hospital didn’t do the chest scan. He also needs more blood work in the week after next.
The news is not as good as we had hoped, but I’m pretty good today. I find uncertainty to be more torturous than certainty because when I know nothing then I don’t know whether to breathe in relief or gear up for a fight. Even though we don’t know treatment plans yet, we do know what kind of cancer this is, and that’s something. We know we have to prepare for a battle.
Havdalah Candleholder
On an unrelated note: A couple of weeks ago I ordered a Havdalah candleholder from Israel. It is used to symbolically signal the end of Shabbat. Yesterday I had a yellow card in my P.O. Box signifying that I had a package, but the sweet postal worker (CM) couldn’t find the package. Today a different postal worker was running the window (he might be the new postmaster???). He’s been at our post office for a couple of weeks now. I like him. He is warm and very funny. Anyway, he told me that the “lost” package was his fault because it was a registered package, which means he had to put it in the safe, but he put the wrong kind of card in our box so CM didn’t know to look for it. He noticed it was from Israel, and when I said that I was excited to receive it and he said, “Do you mind if I ask what it is?” So I told him about the Havdalah ceremony and opened the box to show him the candleholder. He is interested in Hebraic things but doesn’t know much about it, so we had a wonderful discussion and then he said, “We WILL discuss this later,” and he gave me his email address and website URL so he can ask questions. I thought that if I had received the package yesterday I never would have had this wonderful discussion today. So that was cool. I love these divine connections.
I woke at 5 a.m. this morning. The wee hours of the night is when troubles seem worse.
I cannot sleep.
So I am writing. Writing helps me figure things out, to process, and to steady myself. Sort of like the psalmists, who often begin their psalms with fear or grief but end with hope, This is where I look at the fear or pain and then pour it out so I can face whatever I have to face.
We meet with the urologist at 9:10 a.m. This is when we will find out what kind of cancer JJ has and how much it has spread, and we begin to discuss treatment.
I do not know if I want 9:10 a.m. to come quickly or slowly. I want it to come quickly if the news is good. Then I will feel relief and joy. If the news is going to be bad then I do not want 9:10 a.m. to come quickly. Then I want to have these last few hours before the nightmare hits and the world falls apart.
This is what torture feels like: being alive and yet having my being on fire with pain.
One thing that I do not want is to have people tell me I should smile and be happy through this. Why should I? “There is a time to laugh and a time to cry,” the Bible says. What better time to cry than when my family has to walk through this or if the news is the worst? Some people say that our minds shouldn’t go there, to the worst. I know that God will be here, even in the darkness, and I know we must hold to hope, and not let fear overwhelm, but isn’t it kind of naive or stupid to think that we ought never to think of these things, even in the wee hours of the night?
I don’t want people to tell me what to feel. I don’t want them to tell me to smile when my heart breaks. I want them to weep with me. Our culture expect people to smile all the time. Three days to mourn the loss of a loved one and then back to work and stop crying. I sometimes think Middle Eastern cultures understand that sometimes we have to take time to lament and wail and tear our clothes in grief.
We always have such sterile sounding words of theology about the day Jesus (Yeshua) died. However, when the Son died on the cross, the light turned to darkness, the earth quaked, and the Father tore His temple cloths. I think He understands lament and grief.
Ok, so maybe I will not, at this time, have to lament the death of a son. However, there are different types of losses, and different types of pain, and they cause different types of grief.
I am learning Hebrew. Hebrew is a profound language of faith. Everything means something deep, and everything connects to God. Even the months have meaning,. The Biblical months are based on the moon, not the sun. There is thought to be a connection between the months and women because women are also on a monthly cycle. I know this seems strange to those in the church because long ago the church separated from the culture of the Jews. I could explain this more, but this is not the time for history lessons.
At the beginning of every Jewish (or, rather, Biblical) month, I meet with a group of women who are studying Hebrew and we discuss the spiritual aspects of the month and how it relates to us as women. We are all women who love Jesus…or Yeshua in Hebrew. Our group is led by a dear Israeli believer in Yeshua who has a ministry of bringing together Jews and Christians. I learn a lot from her and from others in the group.
This coming month, which begins in early November, is called Kislev. I’m feeling a deep connection with Kislev right now. Here is just a little bit from our teaching about this month:
Kislev falls during the darkest time of the year. Yeshua was maybe born, but most likely conceived, entered Mary’s womb, during this month of darkness. “The Light shone in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” The deepest darkness sets the stage for the greatest light.
The word “chesed” in Scripture is most commonly translated in English as mercy (lovingkindness). A more common word for mercy in Hebrew is rachamim (resh, chet, final mem), as in Av Ha’Rachamim – merciful Father. It also carries the meanings to love unconditionally, be compassionate, have tender affection. The Hebrew word for womb, rechem, is from the same root: racham.
Hebrew is based on a picture language. Each letter is a picture. The ancient Hebrew pictograph for racham draws a beautiful picture of the concept of a womb. The resh (r) is a picture of the head of a person, the chet (h) is a picture of a fence – illustrating protection, and the closed mem ( ם) is a picture of a womb, symbolizing something hidden. The letter mem itself is connected with water, mayim and pictures an open womb. It beautifully illustrates, therefore, how the womb is a place where one is protected, surrounded by water and hidden and is a place from which life can spring forth. In a sense, to live in God’s compassion, in His mercy, rachamim, is to live in His womb.
“Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, falls toward the end of the month of Kislev, the time when the light of the moon is getting dimmer and dimmer. We all know that the moon does not have a light of it’s own. The moon reflects the light of the sun, and the farther away the moon is from the sun, the fuller the moon appears. When the sliver of the new moon appears and it looks as though the moon is bathed in darkness, it is actually inhabiting a space closest to the source of light, and is really bathed in the essence of the sun.”
Ponder the last paragraph again. When the moon appears brightest, it is actually farthest from the sun. when it appears bathed in darkness, it is actually closet to the sun. This makes me think of Psalms 18, which says that God “made darkness his hiding-place [His secret place], his pavilion around him.” When it appears all is darkest, we are protected in His secret place, in the hiddenness of His womb.”
Light dawns in the darkness for the upright, Gracious, merciful, and righteous. Psalms 112:4.
Darkness is not dismal. When we sit in the darkness, God is our light.
I’m not afraid of the dark. God is there.
Ok. Now I can face this day. Time to get up and going.
JJ doesn’t have a primary doctor. He had a pediatrician throughout his childhood, but he’s been really healthy and hasn’t seen her for years. He has gone to the local clinic for Boy Scout physicals. Now that he has cancer, it’s necessary for Jared to have a primary doctor.
The doctor EJ and I go to has agreed to become JJ’s primary. His initial appointment with her was early this afternoon. This doctor (and her staff) is very compassionate and I always feel as if she has all the time in the world to meet with me when I’ve had a health issue. She took time to discuss JJ’s physical and emotional health and any concerns or questions he (and I) might have. Of course, she couldn’t answer specific questions since she hasn’t yet been sent his medical records, but she did answer our general questions, which was helpful.
EJ couldn’t go with us because the appointment conflicted with his work schedule. However, it was only an initial appointment so there was no need for him to be there. Tomorrow we go to the followup appointment with the urologist who did JJ’s surgery, and EJ will be going with us. This meeting is the more important one. We will learn more about JJ’s cancer, and begin discussing treatment options.
The woman from the cancer center who called me earlier this week told me to ask to be a Mama Bear protecting and fighting for our son’s life. She said to ask questions and demand answers. She told me to keep a pen and paper nearby and write down all questions that I have so I can ask the doctor. I have been writing down our questions, and friend who is in her own battle with cancer also gave me some questions to ask. I also found some questions on the Mayo Clinic website. Here is our list of questions so far:
What type of testicular cancer does JJ have?
Can you explain JJ’s pathology report to us? Can we have a copy of the pathology report?
What is the stage of JJ’s testicular cancer?
What is the grade of JJ’s testicular cancer?
Will he need any additional tests?
What are his treatment options? (Including alternative treatments)
What are the chances that treatment will cure his testicular cancer?
What are the actual, positive benefits? (Again don’t accept ‘maybes’)
Why is radiation/chemo necessary in this case? (If they say ‘preventative’, follow up with ‘how’, ‘in what ways’ etc, and don’t accept ‘maybe’ or ‘could be’)
What are the side effects and risks of each treatment option?
Will there be long-term effects of this? What are they?
What foods should we avoid or add to JJ’s diet to help his recovery? What lifestyle changes should he make? Is there a nutritionist available?
Is there one treatment that you think is best for JJ?
What do they see as the consequences of NOT undergoing this treatment?
What would you recommend to a friend or family member in JJ’s situation?
Should he see a specialist? What will that cost, and will our insurance cover it?
If we would like a second opinion, can you recommend a specialist?
We are concerned about his ability to have children in the future. What can he do before treatment to plan for the possibility of infertility?
Are there social workers or counselors to help JJ through this?
Are there brochures or other printed material that we can take with us? What websites do you recommend?
What activities will JJ be able to participate in during treatment period? Will he feel well enough to work and go to school?
JJ and I enjoyed the beauty of the hour drive to and from the doctor. We laughed and teased and joked a lot. When we got home, JJ chatted to his Internet friends while I talked on the phone to my friend.
We actually had a good day.
I have a lot of thoughts, but I’m tired now so I’m going to relax.
I shared this elsewhere yesterday, but decided to expand it and post it here.
This is a topic I have thought deeply about in previous years and previous sufferings, and they are coming to mind again as my family enters these current struggles.
So many people who I’ve encountered seem to believe that courage is always expressed through fearlessness, strength is always expressed through smiles or stoicism. and faith is expressed through calm acceptance or joyful singing without questioning or wrestling with difficulties. I don’t believe this is true.
I have thousands of favorite quotes. One is by Larry Crabb:
“For every one of us, ruthless honesty about what is happening inside of us will lead to brokenness. In a spiritual community, people don’t merely talk about woundedness and brokenness. They leave their comfort zones and expose the specifics, not to everyone, but to at least one other person. It’s terrifying to do so. It seems so weak, so unnecessary, so morbid and self-criticizing. Worse, in many eyes, to admit brokenness means to admit a poor relationship with God. We often hear that brokenness is the pathway to a deeper relationship with God, but we rarely see it modeled. I sometimes think we want others to believe we know God by demonstrating how unbroken we are…Everything in spiritual community is reversed from the world’s order. It is our weakness, not our competence, that moves others; our sorrows, not our blessings, that break down the barriers of fear and shame that keep us apart; our admitted failures, not our paraded successes, that bind us together in hope.”
2 Corinthians 1:4 says: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Yeshua the Messiah, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, through the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
Yes, sometimes I’m scared and sad and I cry. God designed us with emotions. He gave us both laughter and tears. He never said, “Always laugh and never cry” but he said there is a time to laugh and a time to cry. He said to “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.” Yeshua (Jesus) Himself cried at Lazarus’ grave and He groaned at other times. The Bible says that when we can only groan, the Spirit hears the words within it and translates them into prayers. Having a seriously sick child is a parent’s worst nightmare and greatest fear. Why would anyone think we ought to bear it without a few tears?
Fighting dragons
I believe that if I never admit that I am scared, confused, hurt, heartbroken…I don’t not feel those emotions, I just don’t share them–and those fears and sorrows can then grow in secret and I am forced to battle them alone. I prefer to drag scary dragons into the light and slay them there, even if I’m shaking in my boots and get singed in the fight. If I can gain others to help me, so much the better.
If I never admit to struggles, how can I be comforted by others? I could erect a strong facade and I’d end up appearing pretty awesome–but at what cost? I have received so much love and support through this battle with cancer BECAUSE I dared to be honest about it. What comfort I cut myself from if I can’t be honest about tears and heartbreak! And what comfort I withhold from others as well. Like the women in my story in Get Real, if I am silent certainly a wailing cry must echo through a broken heart, “You could have helped me through this…but you said nothing!”
I realize that being transparent will cause some to think I am a faithless mess, which I kind of am. I used to be strong and smiling. I knew exactly how God worked and what He liked and didn’t like. It’s only as suffering has broken my heart that I have gotten loose in my joints and very shabby…like the Velveteen Rabbit. I love this conversation in the children’s story:
There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen.
He loved off all my hair.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you….”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time…Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
I once told God that I asked Him to make me beautiful, and instead He loved off all my hair. Maybe God’s idea of beauty is different from mine. And you know what? I wouldn’t ever be afraid if He’d just let me stay wrapped snuggly in my comfort zone. Instead, He drags me to the things I fear most, and then helps me overcome it. I mean, what kind of God is He anyway, who forces me to face dragons and learn to be brave?
I have found that when I risk sharing both the ups and downs, strengths and weaknesses, victories and failures, good days and bad days, an amazing thing happens. Some come to bring me comfort and some come for me to comfort. “I thought I was the only one suffering this way!” we say to each other. And “I came to you because I know you understand. You’ve been there.” To me, it’s worth the risk of honesty to have such connections forged. If we never share, we become lonely fortresses of professed strength.
The Bible says this: “Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart. (Eccl. 4:9-12).
I wonder how two can stand together and keep each other warm if neither shares their struggles? An isolated strand can be easily torn apart, an isolated deer can be brought down by wolves, and an isolated person will fall.
Red Rover, Red Rover
I remember when I was a child, we used to play a game called “Red Rover.” In this game, kids form two opposing lines and attempt to “break through” the opposing team’s line. At first, two teams are chosen of equal size, and they form two lines, facing each other and holding hands. One side starts by picking a person on the opposing team and saying “Red Rover, Red Rover, send right over.” Johnny then lets go of his teammates and begins a headlong rush for the other line. His goal is to break through the line by overpowering the kids’ hold on each other. If Johnny breaks through, he chooses one person for the opposing team to join his team, and they both go back and join in their line. If he fails to break through, Johnny becomes part of the other team. Each team alternates calling people over until one team has all the people and is declared the winner. The strength of the team depended on how strongly one held the hand of the other. In life, it’s really God who holds on to our hands, but He can do it through us. Maybe we can’t hold on to the hands of everyone, but maybe we can hold on to the hand of those standing next to us by reaching out. However, I can’t help another person remain strong if I don’t know he is hurting, and I can’t know he’s hurting if he doesn’t tell me. I just assume he’s ok and I go on to pray for those with broken hearts.
Maybe people can’t share with many others, but I think they ought to share honestly with someone.
Anyway, an occasional day of tears doesn’t mean that EJ and I are modeling to our son negativity or weakness or lack of faith. It’s important to us that we model genuineness to him. We don’t want him to paint a false smile on his face if his heart is breaking or he’s scared. That’s hypocrisy. We want him to learn to be honest and let others be honest with him. We want him to bravely endure hardship which includes bravely admitting that he needs help and can’t make it alone. Perhaps JJ is doing so well through this because we are modeling transparency to him and allow him to be genuine about where he is.
Glowing Super Power
JJ doesn’t hide that he has testicular cancer. He jokes about it with his friends. He also express dislike: “This SUCKS!” he announces. We have no idea what the treatment options are at this time, or which we will choose, but we are facing various possibilities. Last night, JJ humorously joked, “If I have to have radiation, will I freakin’ GLOW???” I told him that if he ended up having radiation to not to worry about it. Everyone knows that many normal people gain awesome superpowers by exposure to radiation or toxic waste. Maybe he’ll become a superhero and it’s possible, I suppose, that his super power will be the ability to glow like Zach in the movie Sky High. He gave me THE LOOK that only teens can give. “I’m going to throw this pillow at you for saying that,” he said with pretend disgust.
We have all kinds of troubles, but we are not crushed; we are perplexed, yet not in despair; persecuted, yet not abandoned; knocked down, yet not destroyed. (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)
Years ago, I had a friend who was going through a very difficult time. I loved my friend, and I truly cared, and I reached out to her as best I could, but I didn’t really understand the journey she was on so sometimes my encouragement was clumsy and likely not helpful. A few years later, I went through the same sort of suffering. We cried together in understanding. Then she said something very powerful to me:
“I always knew you cared, but now I know that you understand.”
Wow.
I have found that it’s not easy helping those who are suffering. They are in a place I am not in. They are dealing with issues of life and death while I’m trying to decide what to have for dinner. I have often felt like a bystander whose clumsy words and fumbling help is just…inadequate…for the things they are dealing with.
Silly me, I used to think that a sinus infection was merely a long-lasting cold. I didn’t understand how seriously debilitating they were until I suffered several years of chronic sinus infections, and eventually needed surgery. I always cared, but now I have great compassion for people who suffer from sinus infections. I cared, but I didn’t understand the heartbreak of a miscarriage, the deep down fatigue of chronic illness, the deep wounds of rejection, or the horribleness of fighting cancer until I suffered them. How could I? I had never traveled that path before.
This post is really for me. As I begin this newest journey, I am starting to observe and take notes so, on the other side of this, I can remind myself of what is helpful or not helpful to others traveling behind me. I want to be there for them, as best I can. It’s easy to forget what is helpful when the pain is gone so I want to jot down what is helpful now, when I’m going through it.
Notes to Myself:
I am finding that any sort of loving touch–whether from friend or stranger–is a priceless treasure, a beam of light in the dark, a lifeline. It doesn’t matter whether the words are eloquent or not, many or few. It doesn’t matter if the message of love comes through a comment on FB or a blog, a card in the mail, a package of goodies, a visit, sharing a favorite movie, or any of a million other ways a person expresses love. They all say, “I am here. You are not alone. I love you.” So speak. Reach out. Share your advice and stories of hope.
I am finding it helpful when a person lets me feel what I feel. I KNOW God is with us through this journey, and we actually have a lot of strong hope. Even so, it’s a difficult road and there is a roller coaster of emotions. For goodness sakes, don’t assume we have lost our faith or hope because we cry. Our tears do not mean that our faith is shaken. My family, all three of us, are facing this honestly–laughing, talking, crying. Our tears are as necessary as our laughter. We are not only modeling strength and courage to our son, but also realness, humor in the face of difficulties, how to confront fear, and many other things. Please don’t tell us we are not supposed to feel what we feel. I feel so relieved and strengthened when I am fighting to hold back tears and a friend says, “I know this is hard. It’s ok to cry. I am weeping with you.”
Also, realize that even when facing the same trials, everyone deals with it differently. Each journey is unique. Don’t expect our journey through this to look like yours. Don’t criticize a person if he does it differently. He is not you and you are not him. Listen to what the suffering one says he needs. He needs a hug? Give it. He needs someone to hear his fears? Listen.
My friend yesterday heard my need and practically put me in touch with someone who works at a cancer center so I could ask my questions. That was a huge help. One piece of helpful advice the cancer center lady gave me is that I need to be a Mama Bear and fight for my son. I told my friend that I was concerned that I can’t be a ferocious Mama Bear because confrontations are difficult for me. I can dig in my heals and stand firm if I KNOW what I am doing is right, but not if I am uncertain–and I am uncertain about what treatment is best for JJ. I told my friend that I need prayer about that. From that point on, she has sent me Mama Bear growls and pictures and reminders. Silly, but it makes me laugh and reminds me that I CAN BE A MAMA BEAR. She heard me.
Years ago, I considered being a Hospice volunteer and I attended a training session. I ended up not participating in this awesome ministry, but I did hear a very important thing: There is a difference between honesty and truth. At first I thought that was crazy because aren’t truth and honesty the same thing? However, as I pondered it, I realized that there was a lot of truth to it. The teacher of the class said that people who are ill (or their caregivers) are under tremendous stress and have ups and downs, good days and bad. Sometimes they will say honestly say something on a bad day that is not the truth of what they really believe. For example, they might say, “I don’t want you here. Don’t come back,” but they honestly feel that only that ONE moment or day and they really don’t feel that way ALL the time. They want you to be there. So, the hospice teacher said, don’t get offended if someone expresses hopelessness or anger one day. Keep coming back. Be there.
I’m trying to get through this the best I can. If on a stressful day I accidentally say something in the wrong way, please don’t get offended. I might feel that at that moment, but it’s not what I truly feel. I love you and NEED you. I want you HERE.
Keep sharing your advice, especially if you have gone this way before. We are considering your advice. We are getting hit with a lot of different information about many different things. It’s all overwhelming and we have a lot to figure out. We are finding much of your advice very, very helpful. Some of it we are saving to use when necessary. However, not all will apply to our situation. Please be supportive of us even if the decisions we make isn’t what you recommended. (It’s about the one suffering, not about you or me, and they need you to help them.) We love you, we are thankful for your help and advice, but we still have to figure out what is best for our son.
I find myself both more sensitive and less sensitive to what is going on around me. Individual stories of suffering are intensely sharper as I am more able to imagine the turmoil, fear, pain, and sadness they are going through. I’ve always cared but now, once again, I understand more deeply.
At the same time, the political debates and theological discussions have less relevancy. I’ve always been interested in them, and I certainly have always valued questioning and discussions. However, they are meaningless background noise right now. Well, sort of. They are both more important and less relevant. I mean, what do I care about politics when my son is fighting for his life? Except…I’m worried about Obamacare because it touches MY FAMILY. Whether others around me think it’s a disaster or a deliverance doesn’t matter to me right now. What matters is that it’s going to change healthcare, and I don’t know how. I’ve heard horror stories, and I wonder how it will affect our son’s treatment and our ability to pay for it. I also don’t care about theological debates right now. Go ahead and debate whether people aren’t healed because they lack faith, but I won’t get involved. It’s personal to me, not an academic theological debate. Personally, I believe that it takes great faith to believe God can heal and great faith to endure, and my ability to trust God as much with non-healing as with healing is being put to the test. What I am saying is, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you. Please remove this cup from me. However, not what I desire, but what you desire.”
The one thing I would say not to ever, ever do is to tell a suffering person that the reason he or his loved one is not healed is because he doesn’t have enough faith. It’s cruel. You don’t really know what that person is faithfully enduring or what God is doing in his life through the suffering. God works in different ways in different people and at different times. Don’t make a person’s suffering harder.
I understand that you also have things going on in your life, and you are fighting your own battles. I can understand if you can’t be here all the time. Life is hard for us all. I also understand that you, like me, might not know how to help or what to say, and your words might be clumsy. Don’t worry. Even if you accidentally say the “wrong” thing, I am not offended. I see and hear your wonderful love. You are very precious to me. I am finding all of you to be absolutely awesome as my family begins this battle with cancer. I have never before experienced such love and support. JJ is very touched by your concern. I keep telling him about all these messages and prayers he is receiving from all around the world. He says, “Wow. Why are they doing this? Why are they so interested in me? I’m no one special.” “It’s really amazing how many people care, isn’t it? I can only say that I really think it’s God.”
These are the things I want to remember when people around me are suffering.
Yet, those who always receive and never give are often very self-centered, moaning about their troubles with very little compassion for others who are hurting. There are times when we are all weak and needy and we cannot go on without someone to lift us up and help us get back on our feet. (In the Biblical story, the sick man could not have made it to Yeshua without the help of his friends who carried him.) However, at some point we need to reach out to others who are also suffering. Even as my family suffers with JJ’s cancer, there are people around us who are struggling with severe illness or other problems. They are reaching out with comfort to me (which I receive) but I also try to reach out with comfort to them (giving to them). We must both give and receive. Sometimes we are able to give more, and sometimes we must receive more, but in the end it’s a balance between the two.
So after I wrote this morning, I had more strength to face the day. I got my guys up, and started fixing breakfast. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked JJ. He said, “Meh, I’m not sure I want anything…” (He is like me, not wanting to eat the moment he wakes up.) I said, “Why did I ask that question? You ARE going to eat RIGHT NOW!” “Your Mom is being a Mama Bear,” EJ said. “Yes, I am practicing for the visit to the doctor.” I started to run in place and stop and GROWL” like Sully training for work in the movie, Monster’s Inc: Run, run, run….GROWL! Run, run, run….GROWL!. JJ thought I had totally lost it and gone off the deep end.
Hebrew is based on a picture language. Each letter is a picture. The ancient Hebrew pictograph for racham draws a beautiful picture of the concept of a womb. The resh (r) is a picture of the head of a person, the chet (h) is a picture of a fence – illustrating protection, and the closed mem ( ם) is a picture of a womb, symbolizing something hidden. The letter mem itself is connected with water, mayim and pictures an open womb. It beautifully illustrates, therefore, how the womb is a place where one is protected, surrounded by water and hidden and is a place from which life can spring forth. In a sense, to live in God’s compassion, in His mercy, rachamim, is to live in His womb.
“Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, falls toward the end of the month of Kislev, the time when the light of the moon is getting dimmer and dimmer. We all know that the moon does not have a light of it’s own. The moon reflects the light of the sun, and the farther away the moon is from the sun, the fuller the moon appears. When the sliver of the new moon appears and it looks as though the moon is bathed in darkness, it is actually inhabiting a space closest to the source of light, and is really bathed in the essence of the sun.”
I Love To Go A Gardening 