Determined

Posted on May 12, 2014 by Margaret

Keeping company with a toddler is a special delight. Just watching what he or she is doing is entertainment that never gets boring.

Today the thermometer reached 86 degrees here in southwest Michigan, and we took advantage by spending lots of time outdoors. When I turned on the hose for Emerald, she became highly animated, even though it was just a trickle. “Wa-wa!” she shouted, using one of her new words. “Wa-wa! Wa-wa!”

I handed her a couple of buckets, a shovel, and a few rubber duckies, and she was off on a happy adventure. Pulling up a beach chair, I watched her play, a witness to her new discoveries with a hose and its wa-wa.

Every so often joy would bubble up out of her and she’d start again: “Wa-wa! Wa-wa!” The simple pleasure of wetting the driveway and filling containers kept her busy for half an hour, a record for one-project-focus. Each time the hose inadvertently doused her, she would gasp with the cold but then continue on with her work, undaunted.

Emerald’s determination reminded me of my sister Mary’s. The lady isn’t having nearly as much fun as the baby, but she’s every bit as determined to stick with her project. Today she endured her first-ever chemotherapy. Not knowing what to expect, she and Bervin arrived early to be sure there was time for the blood draw, the hour needed for the results, the anti-nausea medicine, the half-hour needed for it to work, the process of establishing the IV line, and the 30 minute infusion itself.

They needn’t have worried. The waiting room was jammed, and the two hour process took an excruciating 6 hours. It was wait, wait, wait.

Determination is tested in circumstances like that. Though Mary said she wasn’t nervous about the actual infusion, she confessed to moments of doubt and fear during the wait. “Maybe chemo wasn’t the right choice. Maybe it won’t make that much difference. Look at this waiting room full of broken people, all of whom are suffering the torturous effects of chemo. Am I really becoming one of them?”

She said her tears took her by surprise, but maybe it was just the torture of having to wait so long to do something she didn’t really want to do.

Eventually her turn came, and her determination was kept strong by a quote she remembered from Erwin Lutzer describing what to do when feeling overwhelmed. “Glance at the lion, but gaze at the Lamb.” His reference was to Satan’s practice of pouncing on us to devour (as the lion), while Jesus (the Lamb) rescues, to set us free.

Mary determined to give only a quick glance at chemo while gazing at God as her Sustainer from the beginning.“There are still question marks over my future,” she said, “but I left the hospital thinking, ‘One down. Seventeen to go.’ And I’m determined to make it.”

“Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report…. think on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

Praising and Praying with Mary

Praise for no side effects yet. Pray against nausea.
Pray for hemoglobin count to stay in normal range so transfusions aren’t necessary
Praise for Bervin’s determination to partner with his wife

The Great Unknown

Posted on May 11, 2014 by Margaret

Chemo is bearing down on Mary. Tomorrow afternoon she’ll line up with other chemo patients for her first infusion, and she’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But chemotherapy can be surprising. Some people are only mildly affected while others are laid low. For Mary, it’s still the great unknown.

Like most of life’s question marks, though, she’ll get the answers shortly. She doesn’t necessarily want to, but she will. So many parts of life follow that pattern: questions without answers, and then like it or not, the answers come.

Take childbirth, for instance. All of us wondered how bad it would be. Was it like Hollywood depicted, with sudden onset and scream-worthy pain? Or was it just hard work we could handle without drama? Eventually most of us found out it’s somewhere between those two extremes.

Another example might be going off to college. We weren’t sure what awaited us, knowing classes would be rigorous but hoping it wouldn’t be all work and no play. For most, it fell somewhere in between.

Mary’s chemo will probably be the same, landing in the middle between extremes. Though she may experience some side effects, she and all of us will pray they won’t be debilitating.

Today while listening to an online church service, I sang along with the congregation, “When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing it will be!” When Mary sings songs like these, I’m sure her perspective now is far different than it was 2 months ago. Starting chemotherapy serves as a reminder she isn’t the same person she was back then, but isn’t that true for all of us? Day to day we’re changing, and as Mary marches into her great unknown, the rest of us are marching, too, reorienting our perspectives as we go, just as she is.

Tonight Mary said, “Tomorrow we go into this new experience hour-by-hour. And if it needs to be minute-by-minute, then we’ll do it like that.” She’s feeling the presence of her co-marchers through their prayers, marveling at the strength they’re giving her. Of course that strength comes not so much from people as from God’s answers to what people are praying.

One thing Mary knows for sure about her great unknown: those answers will continue for as long as she has needs, measured out perfectly day-by-day… hour-by-hour… or, if need be, minute-by-minute.

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart.” (Psalm 73:26)

Praising and Praying with Mary

Praise for a very busy week full of blessing from family and friends
Praise for heartfelt Mothers Day notes from all her children
Pray for few side effects, especially no nausea
Pray for the stamina needed to plan a September wedding

So Much Good

Posted on May 8, 2014 by Margaret

Today when I asked Mary for her choice of prayer requests for tonight’s blog, she paused. “You know,” she said, “I can’t think of a single request. Only praises.”

Of course some of her requests from recent days are still relevant, but she had no new ones. “I have so much to be grateful for,” she said. At the time we were sitting on a Michigan beach under blue skies enjoying 85 degrees.

I said, “Maybe you’re all about praises because cancer has rearranged the way you look at things, at everything.”

Mary agreed. “It’s so easy to take life’s good things for granted. Cancer changes that. Nothing can be assumed after that, not even the small things.”

It’s the old conundrum of not appreciating what we have until we’ve lost it. In one sense, Mary’s lost something important: good health. But as we talked, we realized she’s already gained more than she’s lost. After all, the only thing on her mind today was the many ways she felt like praising God.

“Ok,” I said. “Let’s list them.”

She jumped right in. “I praise God for a husband who has insisted I learn to say ‘no’ to people. It has always gone against me to say no, but during this season, especially after I start chemo next week, I know it’s the right thing to do.”

She went on. “I praise the Lord that my adult children and my grandchildren want to be with me, with us. After watching them rally around as they have for the last 2 months, I’ll never again take them or their love for granted.”

She continued. “I praise God for the cards, letters, and gifts that keep coming in! And the best part is that time and time again, exactly the right encouraging word arrives, just when I need it most. It’s God doing that, I’m sure.”

As I scribbled down what she was saying, she kept going. “I’m thankful for my new car and for driving privileges. After totaling my old one in an accident just before my diagnosis, we didn’t shop for another one, since I might not have been well enough to drive it. But here I am, driving again and enjoying it more than ever.”

And there was more. “I praise God for this beautiful summer day and time to sit in a beach chair, right in the middle of the busiest week I’ve had in a long time. Even this day is programmed with wedding planning and errand running, but for the moment, being on this beach is a balm to my soul.

“Even the popsicles Stina brought to the beach just now were a wonderful treat. I don’t know what life will be like during 6 months of chemo, but today I want to praise God for these last weeks when I can honestly say I’ve had more good days than bad. I’ve decided,” she said, “that from here on I’m going to work at appreciating what I do have, rather than what I don’t.”