Light in a Foggy Day

 

At 5 am I wake up, recognizing the stabbing shoulder pain that signals the need for my medicine. A protein drink and cinnamon bread accompany the pill, and I go back to sleep for another few hours.

Outdoors there is fog, and my brain matches it today. My personal fog unsteadies my balance and makes me list to the left. I need to be careful, but I make it through morning shower and getting ready for the day without incident.

Retreating to my recliner with a cup of rooibos tea in hand, I open my Kindle to Advent for Everyone: A Journey with the Apostles devotional by N.T. Wright. Therein I find wise reflections by Timothy on what I was pondering yesterday. How amazing it is when God affirms and confirms through His Word what I wondered!

And another part of the message involves staying true to God’s call. Let me explain.

There have been more than a few times in my life in which I knew God was giving me a definite assignment. One was back in 2008 when I was offered the opportunity to leave teaching to go help my youngest brother care for Mom, whose dementia was worsening. I gladly did, leaving Kansas to live with her in her home on John’s Whidbey Island, Washington property. It was like moving into paradise. Yes, caregiving gradually became more challenging, but living a peaceful life in the woods brought spiritual and emotional healing I needed in my life. A book was born out of the five years that followed, Three Corners Has My Cat: Caregiving in Alzheimer’s Time.

Last July, when I learned that my breast cancer of eight years ago had recurred, I realized that God was moving me in an unanticipated direction, away for a time at least from the part-time pastoring he had dropped into my lap back in 2019, and toward a deepening of faith. I knew from my last encounter with cancer that it would be a difficult road ahead, but one that would push me into relying on God much more than I usually do. What else is there to do when suddenly all your plans and projects get stripped away by disease?

That’s where I’ve been since September. First, the mastectomy, and now the chemotherapy. Believe me, I would not have chosen this, but I trust my Savior in allowing another time out from a busy life to teach me lessons in his grace. My hope and prayer are that through my blogging that helps me cope with the endurance test called cancer, you will benefit as well.

 

From Minions to the Middle East

 The mitochondria factory minions have decided to take the day off, but perhaps I can still eke out some thoughts on the late Kenneth E. Bailey, ordained Presbyterian minister and research professor fluent in Arabic who spent forty years living and teaching in the Middle East. Check out his Amazon author page for more credentials.

I had never thought about Arabic being an important language for New Testament studies, but it is. Bailey was able to read and study the Arabic Bible and ancient manuscripts. That, plus his close friendships built over the years with Arabic Christians living in rural villages where ancient customs still prevail, allowed him additional insights into the texts and first-century cultural influences.

I don’t remember how I came across his articles and books, but I’m glad I did. The online articles are not as challenging to read as his books, three of which I own: Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians, and Poet and Peasant Through Peasant Eyes: A Literary-Cultural Approach to the Parables in Luke.

I cannot speak adequately to an important part of his scholarship: the close analysis of Bible text structures. Basically, he explains patterns of writing used by first century Hebraic writers, setting up the passage he is examining in a line-by-line format with explanatory notes on its structure. From that, I learned how exquisitely, for example, Jesus told his parables and Paul’s 1 Corinthians was written. Those patterns of writing help uncover emphases that can otherwise be missed.

But the parts that I could easily understand were his explanations of the culture of the times, which bring out even more beauty within the Scripture passages and sometimes puts a whole new spin on them once we understand their cultural context. For example, the family dynamics in the Prodigal Son parable, and architecture of first-century homes in the Nativity story. That “whole new spin” does not change the meaning of the texts but enhances and deepens our understanding of them.

I’ve often wondered over the years how much of the Bible we don’t quite get because we are reading through 21^st century eyes and are not aware of customs and traditions of the first-century Middle East. What I’ve found from Bailey’s books as I prepared sermons over the past few years were insights that demonstrated repeatedly just how God-inspired and magnificent God’s Word is.  It’s amazing to me that the Bible speaks God’s truth throughout time despite changing cultures, and I love getting “the rest of the story” through understanding more of it through Middle Eastern eyes.

For now, though, since my minions are still on break, I think I’ll take a break, too.

So Grateful

 

This morning, my heart was filled with gratitude for so many tiny things:

• ·         The soft feel of my new fleece bathrobe
• ·         The vegetable glycerin soap that soothes my dry, eczema-prone skin
• ·         The shower of hot water on my bald head
• ·         The comfy clothing I have for colder days
• ·         Feeling good enough to get a few things done around the house

Sometimes it seems like God opens my eyes to joy in the littlest things. It was a glorious way to start the day.

I’ve called cancer treatment the ultimate endurance test. It is so very hard. But for whatever reason, this morning God gave me a joyful reprieve through experiencing deep gratitude.

Chemo Brain Alert!

 Today’s appointment went longer due to various delays. I went in at 10 am, and I was done at 2:45 pm, about an hour later than usual.

The brain fog crept in gradually. First was the weird feeling from the steroids. Then the fog grew deeper with the two chemo infusions. I noticed it as I played a particular Kindle game. The “very easy” level on the Scrabble copycat game got harder and harder.

But despite my chemo brain, I wanted to mark this third treatment day, Wednesday, December 4, because it is exactly three months after my mastectomy on Wednesday, September 4. It’s been a long journey, but there is only one more chemo treatment left. It will be on January 8.

It was lovely to celebrate Thanksgiving, followed by Elijah’s third birthday (December 2, though we celebrated on the first), and Shawn’s 40^th birthday on the third.

The next two plus weeks will be devoted to resting as my body requires.  And then comes Christmas with my family. Fortunately, I did my Christmas shopping early, so all I must do is wrap presents.

And indulge in some favorite old-time Christmas movies such as It’s A Wonderful Life.

 

Interlude

 Have you ever read something that seemed to explain your life with God? That was the case for me when around ten years ago I started reading books by the late Dallas Willard. He was a philosophy professor at the University of California for over forty years. And he was a devoted Christian in the Southern Baptist tradition. That combination surprised me and piqued my interest. If I remember correctly, the first two books of his that I read were The Divine Conspiracy and Hearing God.

Why has Willard’s writing affected me so deeply? Because they spoke to the deepest longing of my heart: to know God more.

One of the things The Divine Conspiracy talks about is a fatal error in modern Western Christianity: the lack of teaching to encourage spiritual growth in the life of the believer. It seems that the modern church lost this vital aspect of the Christian faith. I remember as a teenager longing for more. After accepting Jesus as Lord and Savior of your life, what then? It seemed that the only means of renewal came through a recommitment of your life in an altar call. What then? Once the emotional exhilaration of that moment passed, it was back to life as usual.

The church’s exclusive focus on evangelism (saving souls) neglected the necessary follow up of discipleship. Sure, there were Sunday School classes or small groups that concentrated on learning what the Bible says and teaches. And, yes, those were essential. Life applications were discussed as well as admonishments to read the Bible more and pray more. At the time I didn’t realize it, but I needed a spiritual mentor. I needed help with prayer and with developing a devotional life. Though I didn’t know the verse at the time, I was looking for the inner transformation spoken of in Romans12:2.

Hearing God focused on a big question for believers: how does God speak to us through the Holy Spirit today, and how can we tune in to what He is saying? As I read through the book the first time, I was exhilarated to recognize the various ways God has nudged me along in my quest to know him better. If I were to roughly summarize what Willard wrote, it would be that first and foremost, God speaks through the Bible. He can also speak to us in a variety of other ways, such as nature, circumstances, and people. And he speaks to us quietly through nudges and whispers to our souls. Practices such as spiritual disciplines help us learn the art of listening to our Creator.

I recognize that I may be writing what could seem like a whole lot of nothing in my attempt to not box God into a certain process. His Truth is eternal, but he has limitless ways to convey it to each individual because he knows us so well.

Why am I writing about two Dallas Willard books in a cancer blog? Because his spiritual teaching has mentored me. You see, my life in Christ is what sustains me through the ups and downs of cancer treatment. I’ve had a week of feeling almost better. Tomorrow starts the cycle again where my brain will be fogged by the poisons administered to kill stray cancer cells; and my body will be plagued by exhaustion, pain, and neuropathy. It is hard. It is very hard. But I have peace because of what Jesus has done for me and how he has faithfully drawn me closer in the past and in the present.

The Panda and the Pillow

 Since September started, the panda and the pillow have adorned my recliner: panda to my left and pillow to my right. Along with the ergonomic lower back pillow behind me and the super-soft fleece blanket over my lap, I’m well tucked in.

My granddaughters felt that I needed a stuffed animal to hug. Panda started out perched on the left armrest but soon found her proper place slid down to the side where my arm drapes over her. Occasionally, I must adjust her, pulling her up out of the grip of the chair.

The small rectangular pillow came from Hopestone. After my mastectomy, I found that placing the pillow between my upper arm and body worked like a charm for relieving some of the muscle pain. For the first weeks after surgery, the pillow traveled with me throughout the house and even to bed at night for a little extra support. By the end of September, though, it found its permanent spot tucked against the right armrest.

I like to snuggle into my recliner early each morning and listen to music. With a cotton cap on my head to make earphones more comfortable, I plug them into my Kindle, recline to a perfect position, pull the blanket up over my arms and shoulders, and put my arms down by my sides with my hands slightly curved around Panda and pillow. So comfy!

Last night, I wondered if it was time to retire Panda and pillow from the chair. So, this morning I settled in to listen to music covered up with my blanket. It just wasn’t the same. When I’m reading or playing Scrabble, Mah Jong, or Solitaire, perhaps Panda and pillow can have a break. But morning dozing still requires their presence.

Musings

 When my son gets home from work after 3 pm, I will take the car and go grocery shopping at Walmart. The last time I drove myself anywhere was on November 5.

I made it through the pain phase and successfully weaned myself off the pain medication which, I thought, would mean going places again. Not so. Fatigue has refused to leave and keeps me home. You see, Joseph and I share my car. Having the car for the day requires me dropping him off at work or school in the morning and picking him up at the end of the day. That sounds too strenuous to me.

In the past couple weeks, my sleeping schedule has shifted due to a big eczema outbreak. It’s hard to go to sleep and stay asleep at night due to extreme itching. (I think I’ve tried every remedy there is. Applying a cold damp washcloth to the itching area for 5-10 minutes seems to work the best, but have you ever tried to sleep with a cold washcloth on your arm?) It turns out that my best time for sleep is all morning. After an early morning light breakfast and an hour or so listening to music as I relax in my recliner, I go back to bed.

There in bed this morning, I mused about mitochondria, which provide energy to cells. (Don’t worry, this is as close to biology as I get. You can Google the term and find an incomprehensible definition--for non-science majors, that is.) I began to imagine my personal mitochondria cell factories operating at sub-optimal levels since chemo began. Are they understaffed? Or lobbying for better working conditions? Workers’ complaints about the unknown force (chemo) that interferes with their best efforts have not been addressed by management. In my imagination, the workers look just like the ones in Despicable Me.

Okay, so that was a rabbit trail.

Here is what all this staying home and being so tired makes me think about: the many people who are stuck at home due to things beyond their control. A phone call or a visit means the world. Make the phone call, do the visit and brighten their worlds.

And here is another thing to remember when life slows down due to illness: be grateful for the little bits that you can do and be kind to yourself.

p.s. I slogged through the Walmart crowds wearing my mask. The cashier at the less than 20 items lane was very nice and loaded my cart for me. Joseph unloaded the car and put the groceries away. I’m all done in. My expedition this afternoon was a little more than I should have done, but now I can rest and count my blessings.