All or Nothing

If you are hungry, gather at the table.  The meal is just out of the oven and it is plentiful.  If you are full, there is no reason to answer to the call.  Jesus Christ has come to heal the sick, to find the lost, to seek and to save.  He calls those that are sinners, those that are hurting, and those in need.  If you do not find yourself lacking, faithless generation, then do not respond when he calls your name.

He watched his son, thrown to the ground and his body sent into convulsions.  There was nothing he could do.  Helpless is the worst place to be.  And to watch your son in pain, there is no greater torture for a parent.  But there was hope, something that was his last resort, he brought his son to the man he heard stories about.

“Jesus, IF you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”

Jesus turned to the man.  He saw his pain, he saw his hurt, and he did something that is in his nature.  It is who he is.  He loved him.  Jesus is all consuming love.  But he did not stop there, he addressed something beyond physical needs, he addressed the heart, “IF you can!  ALL things are possible for the one who believes.”  Jesus made the heavens that are so vast that all our technology can not even count the stars or the galaxies.  He knows our bodies down to the smallest atom.  He made it all, he controls it all, there is no IF when God is involved.

We all make mistakes!  Each and every one of us.  The only thing that matters is if we learn from them.  And this man did.  He was at a point where Jesus was his only hope.  When Jesus is all you have, you see at last that Jesus is all you need.  The father of the suffering child called out, “I believe; help my unbelief!”

And here I live.  I BELIEVE; HELP MY UNBELIEF!  I want nothing more than Jesus!  HE IS EVERYTHING!  When I lose my life, I find it.  When I give myself, I get all of Jesus in return.  When I abandon my plan, the God of the universe steps in and says, “Watch what I can do!”

Too often I pray for God to speak to me, but what I really want is for him to confirm the comfort of my plans.  Lord, I give it all!  I give you my marriage, it will fall apart without you.  I give you my daughter, you are the perfect parent!  You are all she needs!  I give you my plans, my resources, my health, my very life, I count it all as NOTHING before the throne of your grace and mercy.  And you take me in your loving arms and you give me an inheritance of heaven!

And he is faithful!  THE ONE WHO CALL YOU IS FAITHFUL, HE WILL DO IT!  1 Thessalonians 5:24

If you are not ready for miracles, do not bother to show up.

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The Always Broken Heart

Age creased the hands of the surgeon.  A large build, tall, athletic, a picture of health.  Without even the knowledge of his resume, his deep voice accompanied with a warm smile, he demanded the upmost of attention.  But in this moment, weakness consumed him.

His knees, clothed in scrubs, bent on the surgical floor of the hospital.  The bright lights produced a spotlight, the beep of the monitors was the soundtrack.  His healthy body held all the weakness of the world in his hands.  

Place your two fists together and you see the size of your heart.  Held in his large hands were two small fists placed together.  In his hands he held a red bleeding muscle.  In his hands he held a heart, the human heart of a four year old little girl.  

Little heart, beat.  Little heart, live.  Grow and smile and meet new people.  Sound out words, graduate from kindergarten, and draw a flower for your Momma.  Little heart, hold hands with your BFF, kiss your aunt when she comes to visit.  Little heart, open Christmas presents, play with neighbors, and learn to ride a bike.  Little heart, hug your Daddy’s neck and throw a tennis ball to your puppy.  Little heart, beat, please beat.

No one wants to speak of the gone wrong.

“Be positive.  Focus on the good.”  Hide in humor, watch TV, focus on number one, purchase therapy and live.  COEXIST.

My favorite novel of all time is Les Miserables.  I hate the setting of the dirty streets during the French Revolution, therefore setting the perfect scene for “The Miserable.”  Oh Fantine!  Oh miserable Fantine, brokenhearted, abandoned by your love, never able to mother your child, raped, and dying in starving agony.  What do positive thoughts have to offer to Fantine.  Fantine is real!  She is the modern day Syrian refugee running for her life, she is the Father held captive awaiting his execution in the hands of ISIS, Fantine is the broken hearted wife uncovering her husband’s Ashley Madison account, Fantine is the child leaving his overdosed mother behind in the dirty government housing as he walks on the bus to face the daily cruelty of his peers, Fantine surrounds us!  Oh, I have been Fantine!

Oh cruel world!  What is our weapon to face you?  How do we survive our dreams that can not be and the storms we can not weather?  Life has killed the dream.

Oh Allah, where is your extended Jean Valjean hand?  Your scales condemn the downtrodden.  Hollywood, have your riches given you peace that is beyond understanding?  Tell me atheist, what is your hope for the bleeding heart?  Is your own heart so wise that you have become your own god?  Are you the answer to the broken heart?  Or maybe your heart is callused and you just don’t care at all.

My Jesus stepped down from perfection and walked the streets of the rejected, he touched the sick, and he accepted the outcast.  He is the only God that steps down from his power and serves the hurting.  He is the only God that pursues me!  He is the only God that does not ask me to earn my salvation, he offers me a world beyond this hurt and the price is paid.

A man, unscrubbed and unapproved, entered the room.  He took the unbeating heart from the hands of this world and it began to beat.  There was nothing worldly wisdom could do, in all our riches and all our knowledge, the heart was dead.  Jesus took the heart of the child and she was alive.  But even more than her, MY heart was unbroken.  

Naked People in Heaven

Instant bad mood.  I search around for my screaming phone on the floor under my bed.  The damn alarm clock continues to scream at the top of its lungs.  Slowly gaining control of my sleeping body, I step out of bed, pick up my phone and turn off the alarm.  The pain of waking up.  In heaven, I will roll over and enjoy the waking up process just as much as snuggling into bed and drifting off to sleep.  (That is if we sleep in heaven.)

My world runs about me in fast forward.  Honking impatiently at the slow moving car, spending what we don’t have for the newest item that hits the shelves, driving around our children to some place other than home.  Why do I join the insanity of the crowd?  I do believe in busying oneself with hard work, but that is not what is happening here.  We are all consumed with what does not matter.

Now.  What we want is now.  The admiring stares of those we don’t know.  Now.  The praise of what drives us around.  Now.  Winners of the race.  Packed pantries to overflowing.  Fashonable jewelry on our bodies and extra in the closet.  Fancy modern restaurants.  Everything that our neighbors have.  Our neighbors that we want to be like, not the ones outside of our neighborhood.

But all we think about is now and we laugh at anyone that suggests otherwise.

Ted Turner is famous for a lot of things, one of them is stating what is on his mind.  Hey, I can respect that.  He likes to chose his words so that other people listen.  He doesn’t just fit into the crowd.  I respect that also.  But I wish that someone would tell him, and a whole lot of the rest of the world, that they are on the wrong train.  When Turner quoted, “I’d rather go to hell.  Heaven has got to be boring.”  I wish someone would have asked him, “What do you want most in life?”….”It will be in heaven.”

Heaven is better than being a billionaire.  There is money to spare, Hey, let’s pave these streets with gold.  Heaven is better than pornography!  THERE WILL BE PERFECT BODIES WALKING AROUND NAKED!  And it will be a good thing!  No one will be embarrassed!  (There will be no sin in heaven.  Pornography is a destructive, cruel sin.  The point is, naked bodies will be good….and everywhere.)  Heaven is better than Hawaii.  All the food will be paid in full!  Heaven is better than Christmas!  That baby Jesus, he will be with us!  It doesn’t sound boring to me!

And what will not be in heaven?  Babies without mommies.  Wheelchairs won’t be needed in heaven, or medicine, or hospitals.  There will not be divorce, no one’s heart will be broken.  What have you been through?  What hurts?  What tugs at your heart and makes you cry out, “That is not right!”  God will end it.  He will make all the wrongs undone and he will wipe away that tear.

“Jesus’ miracles are not just a challenge to our minds, but a promise to our hearts, that the world we want is coming.”  Tim Keller.

So, look at this world.  Read the Bible.  Take a look at what is good in this world.  LORD, FIX MY PRIORITIES!  SET MY MIND ON THINGS ETERNAL!  Get ready.  It is going to be the best party of all of eternity.  Don’t throw away your invitation.

Oh, I Am So Sorry. Please Excuse My Oh So Messed Up Body

This article was published in my book, Beautiful Life with Cancer, Hope During the Hard Times in December 2014.

As I lay down in my bed, I am out.  I almost always hit the pillow and it takes me about three minutes and I am asleep.  Often times, parents of little babies and young children teach them bedtime by setting a routine.  Baby gets a bath, read to them, sing one song, and hugs and kisses.  Well, (you can call me weird but I already know that) but I believe I have done this with myself.  Ofcourse I have the getting ready process.  I will spare you that.  It is not as simple and soothing as the baby’s routine.  But I hit the pillow and I start running a list through my head.  My two most popular lists:  1.  What are the decoration changes that I want to make to my house?  2.  What would I change about myself?  Fifteen.  No fourteen.  There are fourteen things I would change.

1. I wish my hair was a little thicker.  2.  No contacts.  Perfect vision would be nice.  3.  No scars around my neck.  4.  No itchy back.  That is right.  No itchy back.  See…I am the lucky one million billion that has a rare condition within a rare condition of MEN2A in which my body deposits protein on the top of my back.  It drives me insane!  It itches all the time.  All the time!  Almost daily, I scratch it until it bleeds.  I have done this since I was a baby.  I wish I did not have that.  5.  Stronger arms.  I work on it.  I do.  I go to the gym when I can and lift weights or as of now, or recently, I have been trying Yoga.  But I’ve been a little weak lately so I don’t push it by going to the gym.  So, I wish I wash’t sick. Wish I could go to the gym.  And wish I had stronger arms.  6.  No scars on my stomach.  7.  No stretch marks.  Nah.  I look at those and wish they weren’t there and then I remember why I have them.  Actually, call me crazy, I’ll keep those.  Worth the memory.  So, 7.  Thinner legs.  (Reinsert gym explanation here and add to it that I do not eat sugar.  Ok.  Yes, I do eat fruit.  And yes, I know that carbs turn to sugar in my body.  Restate that.  I do not eat desserts.  Why?  There is one reason to eat desserts:  They taste good.  There are four reasons not to:  sugar makes me gain weight, not good for my teeth, makes me, and everyone, sick more often by weakening my immune system, and lowers my energy.  Yes, that was absolutely too much to say within parenthesis.)  8.  Perfect teeth.  I hope you think my teeth look perfect, but the front two have crowns from chipping them on the swimming pool.  9.  No veins on my legs.  10.  Better singing voice.  (If I could insert a clip of me singing here, you would agree.)  11.  No scar on the back of my leg.  13.  No Addison’s Disease.  14.  No cancer.

There is my list.  Sure.  Everybody has a list.  But I do try to be really content with my body, but these are the things that I hate.  I really do hate.  And about 12 out of 14, at least, are here for life.  Nothing I can do about it.  About half of these nobody sees.  And the other half, I try to hide most of the time.  Prime example:  You will not find me in any singing group or trying out for American Idol.  But, I go to buy life insurance, and I can’t.  I go to the doctor for allergies and I have to continue my medication list on the back because it won’t all fit in the lines provided, and then the doctor wants to send me for scans and tests and chat extra long because of my history, but excuse me doctor, I have a sinus infection.  But they don’t want to give me anything for that.  And then I go to pick up Prednisone at the pharmacy for the one hundredth time in a row and the pharmacist feels the need to tell me that I shouldn’t take so much because of the side effects.  Thank you, I know them well.  But the alternative isn’t so good.  It’s death.  And then I read an article in the newspaper in the medical section from a doctor that says no one can survive with both their adrenal glands removed.  Well, he should do some research, or I should introduce myself because I am going on ten years now.

I try to find light in my rare condition.  It is a little neat when the student intern at Duke is so excited over meeting me and reviewing my case that he can not hide his excited giddiness.  It is kinda cool to be able to carry on a medical conversation, using all the right jargon, with friends that are doctors and surgeons, but If I got to pick, I would choose a different claim to fame.  What can I really do with, “a really extremely rare form of MEN2A” and always being the exception even within the rules of the disease?  Pretty cool to be the exception in the medical handbook or the specialists’ conference?  Ehh.

Well, I am asleep by now and I never go through the explanations with myself while I am laying in bed.  But if I didn’t have that, I’d be pretty pleased with myself.  If I didn’t have all of that, it’d be great to sit up in the morning and be able to see what’s going on without popping in those contacts.  And I’d probably join some band, just for the fun of it.  And I’d sing to more people than just my seven year old.  And my husband.  And my sisters.  And anyone else I get comfortable with.  And anyone else who is around after I’ve had a drink or two.  And I’d wear skirts, not just in the summer time when I’m outside, but also when it is a little chilly outside in the Fall to show off my legs.  And I would be in and out of the doctor’s office with my sinus infection medicine.  And I wouldn’t always scratch my damn back.  And who knows?  Maybe I would be a whole lot less content.  And maybe I would have less joy.  And maybe I wouldn’t appreciate my family and the days that I’ve got.  Because it isn’t really myself that makes me happy anyway.  So, ehh, I’ll just keep it all.  So, I am oh so sorry.  Please exude my oh so messed up body.  That’s just me.

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I Love Boring Days!

A forty five minute drive to a general practitioner is a little extreme, especially when I pass so many doctors on that drive. But I know what it is like to get a doctor that won’t listen or who isn’t willing to work with my oncologist and endocrinologist. Unfortunately, I have more doctors than compliment my social life. 

“He’s a good doctor.”  I think as I wait. It is the familiar setting:  the patient chair/bed/(what in the hell is that thing?), two extra chairs, a little desk with a computer, and the doctor swivel stool. It is a setting I am quite familiar with. There are no bragging points in that statement. I take a seat in one of the upright chairs. 

Glancing around. Waiting. Reading the posters on the wall:  “attention to insurance policy holders” …I spy a magazine…nah…wait…check my phone…wait…I feel my heart rate increase. “This is the easy stuff,” I tell myself. 

I have a lump under my arm. It bothers me off and on. Months ago, I already ran it nervously by my oncologist. It is not a tumor. 

I remind myself of that now, “It is not a tumor.  This is the easy stuff.”

I am so used to dealing with the hard stuff. I am so used to the extreme, the life threatening, the worst case scenarios, that when I sit and deal with the common, everyday stuff, it is hard for my mind to not fall into that rare type of cancer mode. 

He smiles politely, “Most likely we will just leave it there and do nothing.”  He directs me to checkout. 

Oh happy day!  I know the joys of getting the opportunity to be the boring case at the doctor’s office!  

The Most Beautiful Body

My oncologist is a genius. There are smart people, there are people that are smarter than them.  There is genius level. And then there is one more level of smartness, he is in that circle. Him and like two other people in this world. One of those two other people is Ben Carson. 

Dr. Scheri, my oncologist, is this insanely brilliant man and somehow he is still able to talk and carry on a normal conversation at the kindest level, like we have always been the best of friends and like I could possibly understand things at his level of thinking. 

I wish I could know him under different circumstances. I wish James and I could sit down with him and his wife and discuss the weather and family life. I wish I could hear his story about what pushed him to becoming a doctor at the most elite level. And I wish that I could tell him how much I admire him and what he has meant to me and my family. 

But  James and I have never had Dr. and Mrs. Scheri to our house for a cookout. We sit in a waiting room anticipating our visits and he only knows me as a Cancer patient. 

We had one of these dates planned just the other day, where my family (aren’t they the best to go with me?!) and I sat waiting in the sterile room to discuss my health with this brilliant man. We discussed my biopsy, any possible symptoms, medication, so on and so forth. He asked if I had any more medical questions. Nope. And then he asked if I had any more questions. Well, yes, I did have a question:

“This is not really about my health, but have you ever published?”

A little taken aback, he answered that yes, he had published and he had published medical publications, texts, and correspondences. (I looked it up and it is the kind of stuff written from one top notch surgeon to another.) and then I kind of joked, “No poetry?”  

He laughed, like a loud guttural laugh that in me would have ended in tears of laughter. When we left, James commented that he had never seen him laugh like that before. 

Later, I was thinking about it. It seemed hilarious to me!  It seemed hilarious to me that he COULDN’T write poetry!  Why did it seem so funny?  BECAUSE I CAN!  

There is no hierarchy of people!  Dr. Scheri belongs to a level of genius that I will never know, but that does not mean that he has easily mastered all the tasks that I believe to be so much easier!

We REALLY are all created differently!  Perhaps Lebron James can not boil an egg. (I don’t know). Or maybe Albert Einstein couldn’t change a diaper. (There again, I don’t know). But my point is:  This world NEEDS surgeons, diaper changers, chefs, teachers, shoemakers, and Insurance salesmen. And when we are all content and find joy in our jobs, what a beautiful community!

But there is something even more important than the here and now!  Something far greater than community!  There are friends. Higher, in another circle is family, and in another greater realm is the body of Christ!

Oh!  Beautiful body!  The brain is gorgeous and developed and intricate!  But oh so important is the little toe!  And oh beating heart!  The thumb is used and abused and taken for granite, but oh how it aids us in life!  

Prayer warrior, prodigal son returned home, Father reading devotions to your family, pastor, sinner sitting in the pew, YOU BELONG TO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BODY IN ALL OF CREATION!

WE are the body of Christ. 

He is Going With Me

I have a week off second grade!  SPRING BREAK!  Okay, it is my daughter who actually attends school, but HEY I get a break also. I can hit snooze a few more times, a week off making school lunches, no setting out uniforms, a break from carline, and I get to keep my girl with me from 8:00 – 2:30.  

Plans, parties, and promises are scheduled but there is something that has crept into our lives and it always has a way of peeking its head out when we would rather have another day to go on a picnic and we would rather spend our money on some more spring landscaping, but he nags and pries and won’t go away. 

Yep, headed to Duke. I really love my doctors but sometimes I kinda wish I never met them. I have two appointments.  One with an oncologist and one with an endocrinologist. And I also have a scan. Don’t forget the scan. Errr. I wish I could forget the scan. 

But I hope and I pray, we are in and we are out and this is the only post on the topic. I hope and I pray that I get a clean bill of health and there are no more appointments scheduled and no more concerns raised. But, however it goes, the God who made my body and knows me more inside and out, and loves me more than I love myself (and that is saying a lot) has gone before me and nothing will catch Him by surprise, so my mind is at peace. And He is going with me. 

Is There Another Option?

I like the safe route.  Not really a risk taker.  I enjoy the rush of, well anything, but I first have to be pushed over the edge.  OK.  I admit it, scaredy pants.  Yep, that’s me.

Cancer?  Yeah, I’ll take option two!

Cancer is not what I chose.  It is unpredictable, it is not safe, high maintenance, scary, pretty much everything that I would not choose for my life.

A few years ago, I started feeling sick.  Rapid heart beat.  That happened to me before.  Then it got worse and worse.  And the doctor discovered two tennis ball size tumors in my Adrenal Glands.  I didn’t really want to do that again.  So, when I started feeling similar symptoms, I tried not to…I tried not to….yeah, I freaked out.

I went to the doctor and sat on the medical table, kicked my legs back and forth, and waited for her to come and tell me:  Cancer.

But, she walked through the door, and we just needed to adjust my medication.  And then she said something, something she had no clue what she was saying, she said, “Don’t get so scared.  Going to the doctor is not that big of a deal.”

Really?  Well, it is for me.  Ya know, most people get scared of the possibility of the news that has been a reality for me.  Scared?  I’m human.  Yeah, I get a little nervous when my heart starts beating rapidly, I get a little nervous to sit on that damn doctor’s chair/table (what in the hell is that thing?) because once upon a time, several times, it wasn’t good news and then go back home for me.

So, Cancer?  Why don’t I like it?  Stupid question, huh?  Cancer is scary.  It hurts.  That pretty much sums it up.  And when I write it down like that, I realize, Hmmmm, that pretty much sums up life.

If there is something that I have learned in life, it is this:  Everybody has something!  Something, something that is scary.  Something that hurts.

We are humans and this is life.  Life is scary and life hurts.

So, what is option 2?  Option 2 is perfection.  It is tears wiped away and never crying again.  Option 2 is forever.  It is security, it is getting every thing that I want.  Option 2 is living with the God of the Universe for all of eternity!  Option 2 is Heaven.

So, I’m signed up.  That day will come.  Option 2 is what is happening next.  So, that makes cancer not so scary.

A Hot Date with Cancer

I hit the town with my man. He is hot. I mean, he is that guy that turns heads and he is mine. How did I get him?! Not only is he hot but he is the whole package!

Babysitter for the night, we freshened up in our hotel room for the night then headed to Maggianos. Yum and fun. We took a “seat yourself booth” beside the bar and we ordered drinks. I needed a drink. Then we ordered some comfort food. We laughed and we looked …normal. We looked like a couple with a babysitter having a date. Well, my man knows how to treat me and we were not done after dinner. We hit up the Kroger for some dark chocolate for me, gelato for him, and we mixed and matched a six pack for us to share. We laughed and held on to each other. “This would not be fun with anyone but you.” His simple compliments mean the world to me.

Seeing us here, someone would almost think we were normal. I feel better than that. I feel like I have conquered the world. And so I owe the world to my husband. Because I am not wearing this scarf to make a fashion statement. When we return to the room and I pull it off, I am hiding a fresh scar and a swollen incision. And we have not traveled seven hours for our fun night on the town. I have a post op. appt. tomorrow at Duke.

But I strut through this town like I own it. And I walk through the doors of Duke University Hospital like I have an honors degree here. And I chat with the leading surgeon in MEN2A Cancer like we are BFFs. Because I can do anything. I can have cancer. And the very best husband in the whole entire world just makes it feel like one hot date.