Peace for the journey,
Category Archives: cancer volume 4
Cancer Survivor’s Picnic… my toast to hope
There are a few things I’d like to tell you about today. They’ll make better sense if you have the opportunity to watch the video. I’ll give you ample time; I need a break from writing this week so that I can spend some concentrated time of resting with my Father. We have a great many things to discuss.
First, I specifically felt your prayers over this past week. I am grateful and humbled by your kind words; I needed them. They made all the difference for me as I sought to prepare my thoughts and, then, to deliver them with the full peace and assurance of God.
Secondly, last night as I was reading in Romans, I came across this verse in 10:20. Words first spoken by the prophet Isaiah and then reiterated by Paul:
“And Isaiah boldly says, ‘I was found by those who did not seek me; I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me.'”
After reading those words, I bowed my head and prayed this very prayer over those who would attend today’s event. I talked to the Lord about all the people who might show up at the picnic–in particular those not intent on seeking God, much less asking anything of him, but those whom he might so willingly and graciously reveal himself to in unexpected and unanticipated ways. That is the single prayer I carried with me as I marked the hours prior to my speaking.
{Patsy, Cancer Center Social Worker… one of the kindest people I’ve met}
Thirdly, there came a strange moment for me early on in my speaking. The microphone wasn’t situated close to the tents where the attendees had gathered around tables beneath the sweltering heat of a North Carolina afternoon. I couldn’t see the faces of those sitting beyond the first row of tables. Of course, my family was in view, but my eyes fixed, instead, on a woman sitting to the left of them at the edge of the tent’s shading. She wore sunglasses, but she looked oddly familiar… like one of you, a twin maybe. And I thought to myself, “Did Sassy Granny fly all the way from Washington to hear me speak today?”
I could tell she connected with me throughout the course of my speaking. Several nods, smiles, and encouraging glances were sent my direction; I made a mental note to seek her out at a later time, but I never saw her again. She helped me, reminding me of Sassy and all of you as well. It was as if you were saying, “We’re with you, Elaine… yesterday, today, and for the long haul.”
Thirdly, as I was talking about survivorship, I carried the memory of my friend Jeff with me; he went home to Jesus this past week. Jeff was a cancer survivor and valiantly lived each day with godly intention. Cancer was not his undoing; rather the threshold of his emerging… whole, healthy, and home to Canaan with the morning dew of Eden to greet his stride and with the company of his Creator at his side.
I also thought of you, Joy, a cancer survivor as well. You begin your journey with chemotherapy in the morning, and I can say to you as well, “Cancer will not be your undoing, sister; rather cancer will be the threshold of your emerging.”
Lastly, I met some wonderful “survivors” today; in particular two people. A woman named Jennifer whose breast cancer has returned for a second time, this time in her liver; an eighteen-year-old-boy named Wayne, a testicular cancer survivor. I was reminded, yet again, of the fragility of life… of how each day should be memorialized with grateful thanks for the earthly tenure I’ve been allowed.
{Joyce, one of my chemo-friends; we adore Nurse Sarah; we miss her as well!}
Entrusted with a story… with Jesus as my “next.” He’s your “next” as well. Take hold of your moments this week, friends; plant some kingdom seed, and live each day like you mean it. I’ll see you on the other side of a much needed break. As always…
Peace for the journey,
PS: The winners of Cindy’s cards are Lidj and Cheryl! Girls, please look over Cindy’s cards again and let me know which two are your favorites. Email me your selections. My e-mail has been acting up in recent days, so if you haven’t heard back from me in a while, then chances are I haven’t received your e-mail. We’ll work things out somehow.
standing near…
“The Spirit of the Lord told Philip, ‘Go to that chariot and stay near it.’ Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. ‘Do you understand what you are reading!’ Philip asked. ‘How can I,’ he said, ‘unless someone explains it to me?’ So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.’”
(Acts 8:28-31).
I returned to the chemo lounge this week for my bi-monthly port flush. While many of my cancer contemporaries have their ports immediately removed after their chemotherapy has ended, per the urging of my doctor I’ve decided to leave mine in for the next couple of years. The odds for my cancer’s reoccurrence are greater in that time frame, and I certainly don’t want to have to go through the surgical process of re-inserting the port. It was a painful experience for me (think of knives poking themselves into your neck); accordingly, I’ve decided to live with the inconvenience of my port for a while longer. Thus, the need for a bi-monthly return to the cancer center in order to prevent an infection in that area.
The last time I went there, I became physically nauseated when I made that left turn into the hospital parking lot; this time I did a bit better as I made the usual trek to my usual chair and waited for Nurse Angie (Sarah has since moved to Montana and is expecting her first child!) to prep me, poke me, flush me, excuse me—a process taking about ten minutes. This isn’t on par with my previous five hour stays, so there is little time to absorb my surroundings. But with this brief visit, I did notice one thing—one singular reality that struck me afresh and forced my heart to deal with one of the cold, hard truths about cancer.
It’s everywhere.
As I looked around the lounge at the twenty some faces that filled the chairs with their ample suffering, I realized that they were strangers to me—a whole new crop of cancer patients with whom I had no connection. Some asleep. Some dehydrated. Some reading. Some requiring the immediate attention of the nurses. Very few of them engaging with the process. Most of them keeping to themselves. And it made me tearful… made my heart hurt all over again for the reality of cancer and its debilitating effects. I wanted to hug each one of them; sit alongside of them; strike up a conversation, and leave a little bit of Jesus joy with my passing.
But I didn’t; really I couldn’t. I’ve passed the ownership of my chair onto others, and the hospital wouldn’t take kindly to my just “hanging out to be an encourager” especially since, technically speaking, I don’t have authorization to be there. So I left the hospital feeling sad; feeling lost; knowing that my cancer journey has made a huge mark upon my soul but has, also, left me feeling “hung out to dry” as it pertains to the days ahead. I don’t know what to do with it all, how to process its worthiness, how to take the lessons I’ve learned and how to graciously bestow them upon others… those cancer “others” who might benefit from having a “come alongside” kind of Philip at their side—someone who is willing to “step up” and help with the reading of life and truth and Jesus’ role in it all.
While re-reading the above passage of scripture last night (one of my favorites in all of the book of Acts), I was reminded again about the nature of the learning process—about what it is to be a teacher in the classroom of life and what it is to be student. Really, there are two types of learners when it comes to spiritual matters and otherwise.
The first learner is represented by the Ethiopian eunuch—a person longing to learn the truth, yet unable to fully grasp its meaning because of language barriers, historical barriers, familial barriers, religious barriers, traditional barriers. His upbringing hadn’t allowed him the privilege of first-hand knowledge. Thus, when it came to his understanding and the grasping of truth, he began at a deficit. It wasn’t his fault; it simply was his reality. Accordingly, he could have chosen to settle for current understanding—for the “reading” of the story without ever really engaging with its witness. This kind of thinking represents the first type of learner—a learner that never makes his/her way past the print on a page. A learner that chooses ignorance over understanding. A learner that never progresses past the first grade and that is willing to spend a lifetime reciting the ABC’s (a comfortable education) rather than moving onto writing those ABC’s into a meaningful manuscript (a sometimes less comfortable, more laborious and struggling education).
The second type of learner is also represented by the Ethiopian eunuch—a person longing to learn the truth and who is fully willing to accept the teaching of one more knowledgeable, more experienced—a teacher who is willing to come alongside, to step up into the chariot of elementary understanding, to invest personal energies, and to unfold truth in the light of practical, first-hand knowledge and experience. The student-learner who is willing to receive a helping hand as it pertains to furthering his/her education recognizes that, without the help of another, he/she is likely to remain stuck in earlier perceptions that will never really advance personal education. A wise student is willing to share the chariot with a teacher who has previously walked the desert road and who has leaned into his/her own personal learning as it pertains to all of life.
I have been as both learners on my journey through cancer. A student longing for truth but unable to fully interpret it because of never “having been this way before.” I’ve also been a student willing to allow a couple of teachers to join me in the chariot, because I understood that their previous learning would be invaluable to me in my own quest for truth. Like Philip, they have graciously “stayed near my chariot” and, per my request, jumped on board to answer all of my questions and to gently point me forward toward personal application of truth. I am a better learner and survivor because of their generous investments into my understanding. And I am grateful that when they, like me, looked around the “rooms” in their lives and saw a whole new crop of cancer patients, they didn’t shrink back from God’s calling to “stay near my chariot.”
It is my heart’s desire to walk in that same calling, for I have, like them, have walked this desert road. As I look around my “room,” I want to follow God’s promptings toward a chariot or two where I might invest this heart-hurt of mine—a stepping up and into the lives of other cancer patients who need the benefit of my previous education. A few people who might be willing to allow me some personal investment into their personal quest for the truth. It’s not always easy to find them, those who are willing to move past elementary understanding and into the struggling strains of furthering their education. Harder still, is finding someone who is willing to trust my desert heart with the teaching, but I believe that this is what God is calling me to—to stay near the hurting and to gently offer God’s grace, peace, and understanding for the journey ahead.
We’ve all been called to the same… to the “staying near” to a few chariots where we might be used by God to reveal his truth. Not everyone will invite us into their private confusion. Some are content to live within the parameters of their well-recited ABC’s. But every now and again, there will be a few who will bend to their learning, those who want to further the story and who will need the benefit of your previous desert walk.
They are everywhere… a whole new crop of confused and suffering patients in desperate need of our nearness to their pain. How I pray for eyes to see, ears to hear, hearts to listen, and then feet to step up… to stay up until the work of the cross is done. Even so, keep to it friends, and if you’re so inclined, let me know what chariots God is calling you to “stand near” to in this season of living. As always…
Peace for the journey,
~elaine
one word…
“Just one word from You, and everything changes.
Just one word from You, will bring me life.”
–Vicky Beeching {“Listening”, Eternity Invades, 2010}
Just one word.
I awakened with this refrain running through my thoughts this morning. I’ve been thinking on it ever since… pondering the one word that would mean the most to me. The one or two or five situations in my life and the one or two or five situations in a friend’s life where one word from the everlasting Word would change the landscape of both of our lives.
One word. One thought. One loving look. One wink or nod in my direction. One break in the clouds. One droplet from the sky. One ripple in the water. One whisper from behind the veil. One gentle grace released from the Father’s heart, and everything changes…
for all eternity.
I don’t know what it is about our prayers that move the heart of the Father in one direction or the other, but I do believe that they do… move the heart of the Father. And today I’m just bold enough, harbor faith enough, to bring a few thoughts before him and ask him for that one word that would change everything… that would bring me life.
Perhaps you’d like to join me in the pondering—to take some time this weekend and speak some words to the Father, believing that with his one word, everything in your life will change…
for all eternity.
God’s words have eternal consequences. He doesn’t speak them casually or coincidentally. Instead, he considers them reverently and then reveals them to us with all the confidence and certitude of heaven. We may not always like what he has to say, but we can be certain that when he speaks, everything in our lives will change…
for all eternity.
Of this I am convinced, friends. There have been a few one word moments in my life over the past year, and eternity reverberates with the witness of what I’ve chosen to do with God’s holy utterings. How I pray always to be found faithful with their receiving, even more so with the living of them out on the pavement of my everyday life.
And so this day I pray for that one word from God that will make the best difference for all of his eternity. His glory. He renown. He knows what that one word will be regarding my one or two or five situations. He knows the desires of my heart, even as he knows his own. And somewhere between the two—my desires and his—an understanding is reached. A decision is made. A holy word is spoken.
I wait in anticipation of what that might be, whenever and however he chooses its release.
What is the one situation in your life right now that could benefit from a single nod from heaven—a sacred one word from the Father’s heart that would bring you life? The one word that would change everything… for all eternity? I imagine that you are intimately acquainted with that situation… that it rests heavily upon your heart and even more prominently in your thoughts. Even as I have asked myself that question, it doesn’t take long for me to recall my one or two or five weighty situations.
One of them pertains to my writing; in particular, my recent WIP (you can read about it here). Along those lines, I’d like the opportunity to flesh out my ideas with other Christian writers and make some stronger connections in the publishing arena. Lysa TerKeurst at Proverbs 31 ministries is offering two Cecil Murphy Scholarships to attend this year’s She Speaks Conference in July (a conference for women interested in speaking, writing, and leadership). I was able to attend the conference a couple of years ago and would like to attend again this year. There are still a couple of variables to weigh out in the matter in regards to my participation, but I’ve been praying over it and am confident of God’s leading in the weeks to come. I suppose I don’t have to tell you what a scholarship would mean to me.
It’s just one of the few things I’m earnestly talking to God about in this season of my life. It’s not the most important thing but important enough to warrant a few prayers in anticipation of God’s one word. I would appreciate yours as well. Now, if you care to share, what is the one situation in your life that needs the application of our Father’s one word? I’d love to pray for you this weekend. You mean more to me than you know. As always…
Peace for the journey,
~elaine
PS: If you’d like to read more about my first visit to She Speaks, click here.
50,000 words of faith…
It mocks me from a distance; sits on a shelf in my den, begging for notice while collecting dust. A purple, three-ring binder containing 50,000 words, personal words. Words written from a place of noble thought and understanding. Words that took nearly a year to write. Words that I thought would surely play a bigger role in my “next” than they currently are. Words that serve as a reminder to me of where my heart was twelve months ago…
A woman completely in favor of faith and the pursuit therein.
I thought I had it figured out… my faith. Little did I know that the greatest challenges to my previously rehearsed faith were dancing on the horizon, hidden from me in the moment, yet soon-to-be unveiled with the passage of time. Most of you might reason (even as I have reasoned) that, as my struggles came into view, I would take hold of the earlier written 50,000 words. That I could and willingly would apply “noble understanding” to the strife at hand. That I would pull the binder from the shelf, shake off the dust, and dig into the thoughts, precepts, and strength from my earlier season. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Why?
Because maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t ready to fully trust these words to see me through. They were good words, right words, words in keeping with all that I know to be true, but in many ways, words untested by the pulls and strains of a stressful season. Accordingly, I left the purple binder untouched, leaving it in the same place where it had been residing for the past eight months. That is, until today.
Today I dared to take it down off the bookcase. I began reading those 50,000 words again and wondering if the faith that I wrote about back then would match up with the faith steps I’m taking right now. Where did I get it wrong? Where did I, by the grace of God, get it right? Are these “old” thoughts in keeping with my new reality? Is this manuscript worthy of a second read-thru with the further goal of publication?
It’s a daunting task… this survey of a previously written faith, yet one I want to apply myself toward. In doing so, I expect my faith perspective to evolve into fuller understanding. I know some things now, hold some things now that I didn’t know or hold a year ago. Today, my faith lives and breathes at a higher level. Today, I can better address the issue of faith, because mine has been tested with the purifying flames of God’s eternal love. Today, I can hold the purple binder in hand with deeper clarity about the words printed therein.
Today, and in the days to come, I want to sit with my words before God and examine them under his microscope. I want to finish that which I thought was finished a year ago. I want my faith to live even as it writes… truthfully. Thus, I get to it. No timetable this go around, just a willingness to fall into some words, sentences, paragraphs, until the work is complete and up-to-date with my faith.
Along those lines, I want to ask you a question or two, even as I ask them of myself:
1. What would you hope to learn/gain by reading yet another book on faith? (I just typed in the word “faith” under the book tab on Amazon and the results are 93,862 currently listed titles regarding faith). Who needs another book on faith? What can be written about faith that hasn’t already been written? What is the take-away value for this book?
2. What format/style works best for you as a reader? Longer, fewer chapters? Shorter, more chapters?
3. What keeps you interested as a reader? Stories, anecdotes, scripture study?
4. Are application questions at the conclusion of each chapter important to you as a reader?
5. Any further thoughts on faith that would help me as a writer better understand what you as the reader wants…
I’d love your input; no need to answer all the questions, but your insight is valuable to me as I shake off the dust from my 50,000 words and attempt to edit them in this new season. For the record… I’m still a woman completely in favor of faith and the pursuit therein. This old, purple binder and a freshly tested faith seem like a good place to start.
Thank you for joining me on the road, and thank you for your prayers this week. I’m recovering, and I am at peace.
