Waiting to be Made Right

Today is chemo day and I'm dreading it. I hate going to the cancer center now. The nurses are all great, my oncologist is wonderful, but I hate even the thought of walking into that place . . . knowing what's coming and how I'll feel for the next week.

Every morning (well, most mornings) I read the daily entry from Max Lucado's Grace for the Moment. (If you've never read Max's stuff, get your hands on one of his books, any book, and be prepared to be inspired, encouraged, and challenged.) This morning the verse for the day was Proverbs 20:22, Wait for the Lord, and He will make things right.

He will make things right . . . in His timing. Look, someday this cancer will be completely gone and things in my body will be right again. I have to accept it may not be in this life but someday.

This world is full of srewy things, injustices, unfairness, and cruelness, but God will make all things right. That's His promise. We just have to be willing to wait.

Can I wait? Can I wait even five more months? I'm gonna have to. And I'm gonna have to trust God that He is true to His word and sooner or later (whicheve He chooses) all this mess will be made right.

True Confession

I feel like being honest this morning. Honesty is good. For you. For me. We should all be more honest with each other.

Okay, here goes: Hi, my name's Mike and I suffer with depression.

The doctor said depression was a side effect of chemo, not to mention a side effect of having cancer and dealing with every thing that tags along for the ride (read here, ileostomy).

Oh, I'm not depressed all the time. Some days I'm fine, some days I'm not. Most mornings I wake up feeling like myself, then as the day wears on I feel the depression creeping in like a shadow, slowly darkening my mind and dampening my mood. Last Friday was bad. I was in a real funk. Almost broke down crying a couple times at work for no good reason.

The sad thing is, depression is a hard thing to admit to. It's got this stigma attached to it: depression=weakness. But everyone I've met who has battled cancer (and depression) is anything but weak. Weakness and cancer don't equal keeping ones sanity. You have to be strong.

You know what, though? I'm thankful for feeling good in the early mornings so I can at least start each day off on an upbeat note. I'm thankful for the time I have to write this blog and how therapeutic it is for me. I'm thankful for God's Word. I always seem to find something to remind me or encourage me or challenge me. How great is that?

The depression will pass with the cancer (and all the trimmings) but the lessons I'm learning while trudging through this valley will stick with me as long as I trod this earth.

Oncology Report

I like "oncology" so much better than "cancer." Cancer is such a harsh word, so personal, so . . . wild and lethal sounding. Oncology is much more clinical and safe.

Anyway, I had my bi-weekly can . . . I mean, oncology appointment yesterday. Interesting appointment. As usual I was asked about my side effects, which ones I was having, how severe they were, and how long they were lasting. Did I have any questions?

Yes, I have a few questions. Am I getting stupider? Is the chemo killing brain cells or something because lately I've been feeling like a big dummy.

The can . . . oncology nurse practitioner assured me the chemo I'm getting does not kill brain cells but it does kill red blood cells which carry oxygen to the brain. So that "fog in the head" feeling (I call it the "big dummy" feeling) is a result of not enough oxygen getting to the brain. (Thought: if not enough oxygen is getting to the brain won't that eventually kill brain cells?)

Great. So while the chemo's killing the bad guys it's also taking out the good guys. Shows no discrimination. Good news is, though, that the good guys can replace themselves, the bad guys can't. Ha ha.

Then I asked about the fatigue. Yes, the fatigue will continue to worsen. Eleven days between treatments is not enough time for the body to fully recover so the fatigue has an accumulative effect. They don't want to lengthen the time between treatments because while it may allow the body to recover it would also allow the cancer cells to recover. So there really is a science behind all this madness. Apparently, the sensitivity to cold is in the same boat. It'll worsen. And I was so enjoying those couple days when I can eat ice cream and sip cold soda.

Darn, though, I forgot to ask if the big dummy feeling will accumulate (see? dumb). Will I eventually get so dumb my dog will be taking me for a walk so I can poop in the park?

So my can . . . sorry, oncology appointment didn't quite go as I wanted. The news was not as glamorous as I was hoping for. This can . . . oncolo . . . oh, what the heck, cancer, yes that's right, c-a-n-c-e-r, is going to really get on my nerves by the end of this bout with chemo. Just in time for it to be finished. I know it's saving my life and all, killing all the bad guys, but c'mon, it's gonna get so bad I won't be able to have an Hawaiin ice during the hottest days of summer? Hold on while I get my violin out.

Fear of Falling

Sometimes in life you feel like a child racing down a snow-encrusted hill on the thin rails of one of those old wood and metal sleds. Remember them? Man, could we fly. When the snow was packed hard and the temperature was in the teens, those metal sleds were like white lightning. The freedom, the effortless exhilaration, the snow-in-the-face, frozen-smiled ecstasy. There was nothing like it.

And then, sometimes, life is like scaling a rock face in 100+ degree heat, in the middle of the desert. Muscles cramp, your tongue glues itself to the roof of your mouth, fingers ache. Fear takes an iron-gripped hold on your heart. And just as you think you can't hold on any longer and you can't find your next foothold, you look down and it suddenly hits you, falling is not a good idea. You question how in the world you got yourself into this predicament and how in the world you're going to get yourself out.

Then it happens, the fingers slip, the foot looses its grip, your heart shoots up and lodges somewhere in your throat as you claw at the rock face. Every muscle screams and tightens but it's too late, the rock has rejected you. You fall.

But you only fall a few feet before your harness comes to life around your waist and jerks you to a sudden stop.

I like the New Century Version of Jude 24: God is strong and can help you not to fall.

Even when life is at its toughest and we're losing grip and falling seems inevitable, God is there, ready to hold us up and keep us from falling.

God is strong.

Hey, the other day I got an email from my publisher, Realms Fiction, and attached to it was the cover of my next book, Scream, due out Winter 2009. Want to see it? Click here then leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Keeping Things in Perspective

I know I've written about the duplicity of my soul before, but I was reading through something this morning and it struck me as appropriate and thought-provoking. So, since I can, I'll share it.

Psalm 88 is a depressing psalm, no getting around that. It isn't written by David but by the Sons of Korah. The psalm starts out with O LORD, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you. My my prayers come before you; turn your ear to my cry.

Uh-oh. You can tell from the first verse things aren't going to be sounding good. And they don't. Here's a couple passages from the psalm:

my soul is full of trouble . . . my life draws near the grave . . . You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths . . . my eyes are dim with grief . . . Why, O LORD, do you reject me? . . . I have been afflicted and close to death . . . Your wrath has swept over me . . . they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me.

Pretty depressing isn't it? And it gets worse, the very last line of the psalm is the darkness is my closest friend.

That's it. Nothing positive at all. On and on it goes, despair, depression, dejection, and discouragement. I read that and I thought, boy, what a way to start the day off, Lord, what are you trying to show me here?

. . . but then I read on. You have to read on. The first two verses of Psalm 89 redeem everything. I know the psalms are written by different guys but in God's soveriegnty He arranged the book so one follows another. I think He knew people would read 88 and be blown away by the despair without hope so He stuck 89 right on its tail . . . but we have to keep reading.

Psalm 89, the first two verses say this: I will sing of the LORD's great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations. I will declare that your love stands firm forever, that you established your line forever and make your throne firm through all generations.

Amen.

You see, Psalm 88 is from man's perspective. At times, life stinks. Sorrow smothers us, death surrounds us, grief, hurt, envy, strife, it's all part of this world. And if we focus on that, yeah, it's pretty despairing and hopeless. But Psalm 89 serves to remind us, Wait! God is still on the throne and His throne is firm through all generations. His love for His children endures forever and through whatever this old sin-cursed world throws at us. Don't despair. He is worthy of our praise.

I need to read these two psalms often. Keep things in perspective.

Time Keeps Tickin'

Time is not our friend.

Let's talk about a stark reality, shall we? We all have an appointment to keep. That appointment is set, there is no changing it or rescheduling and no one knows when it will come due. But it will. Sooner or later. And no matter what we do, time doesn't slow down or stop, it keeps marching toward that appointment date.

That appointment is with death. In case you haven't heard, the mortality rate for humans is 100%.

Like I said yesterday, I think about death a lot now. And thinking about death causes me to think about what happens after death. That's right, heaven and hell.

Look, I'm going to be honest here. For those of you who have been keeping up with this blog I hope you know me to at the very least be sincere and honest. We spend way too much time fretting over, debating about, clinging onto, and mulling over things that won't last past tomorrow. Mundane things, trite, meaningless, perishable things.

So what really matters? Eternity. Heaven and hell. The non-perishables.

So this doesn't drag out (because time is not my friend), I'm going to lay things on the line. If you don't know where you're spending eternity, it's time to start thinking about death. That appointment is approaching and the clock is ticking. Death is waiting on the doorstep. Life's repo man coming to collect. Tarry any longer and it may just be too late.

Pilate asked Jesus, "What is truth?" The truth is this. All of us are sinners; we've all fallen short of God's standard (can anyone really say he's never sinned?). And unless we acknowledge that and seek to make things right with God, the Bible says the punishment is death, spiritual death, as in hell.

So how to make things right? Well, that's the beauty of it, we don't have to make it right, the hard work's already been done. Remember when Jesus died on the cross up on that hill that dark Friday? Yeah, he was doing the work for all of us, taking the punishment. All we have to do is believe in him, trust that what he did on that hill really did cover our sins. You do that and mean it and you won't have to fear that impending appointment. Though time is not your friend, eternity will be.

That's the stuff that really matters.

Thinking About Death

I think about death. Every day now.

No, I honestly don't think this cancer is going to kill me, but the cold reality is that it could. Or some other cancer in the future, or heart attack, or accident . . . or whatever. The truth is, all of us are going to die and, whether we like it or not, we should think about that.

It even says so in the Bible. Yes, it does. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says, We must all die, and everyone living should think about this.

When you go through something like cancer it causes you to think about death. And thinking about death raises some interesting questions. How have I lived? Who have I influenced? Where have I left the fingerprints of my life? Could I be doing more? And what? How? Where?

Thinking about death causes you to think about life, to take inventory, as they say.

Talk to anyone who's faced something traumatic or life-threatening. It'll be an eye-opening experience. Their perspective on life and death is much different. Life is so much more precious because death is so much more real . . . and imminent.

These are the issues that arise when you think about death. Life and death.

Think about it.

Take Courage

The storm must have whipped up so quickly they didn't even have time to lower the sails.

It was a pleasant evening; all was going well. They were just supposed to cross the sea, not battle the forces of nature. But plans changed.

Dark storm clouds climbed across the sky like a pack of hungry predators. Gusts of wind buffeted the boat and clawed at the sails. Waves chopped their angry jaws at the small fishing vessel and tossed it to and fro like a piece of sea-rotted driftwood. Thunder growled; lightning bit. A blanket of rain descended on the sea.

The men inside were helpless. Their breath robbed by both wind and water, they couldn't even cry for help. Plans had changed and no one had notified them. They were sure they were going to die. This is what it was like to perish at sea.

Then they saw it. A light, hovering just above the water. A pinpoint at first but growing, closing in quickly. It was a ghost, a specter from the hereafter, coming to harvest their souls.

Fear gripped them so ferociously they considered jumping ship and succombing to the desire of the ravenous sea.

But as the light grew larger and loomed closer it took on a familiar form. And a familiar voice.

"Take courage. Don't be afraid."

* * *

I needed this passage in Matthew 14 this morning. This storm I'm in is getting angry. I needed that reminder from my Lord to take courage and not be afraid. He's here in the midst of the storm with me.

People keep asking me how I'm doing and I hesitate to tell them because I don't want to sound like a whiner. For this week after chemo, it's always the same thing: I don't feel good. The side effects wear on you, get to you both physically and mentally. I'm hoping for some better days here in the immediate future.

Talk about simple pleasures. Right now, I want nothing more than to hold an iced-cold, sweaty can of Coke in my hand and guzzle it till it's empty, then pig-out on a bowl of ice cream. I'll have to wait a few days for the cold sensitivity to wane but it'll happen. Count on it.

In other news, if you live in the Hanover, PA area I have a column starting in The Evening Sun today called "Ask the Author" where readers can write in questions about writing and publishing and I answer them the best I can. It'll run every other Monday for the remainder of the summer.

A Few Quick Random Things

Hey, short post today, gotta lot to do this morning and some errands to run. Besides, I over slept a bit, which is actually a good thing.

Some new reviews have been posted about The Hunted. You can find one at The Christian Manifesto and another over at Novel Reviews. On the Novel Reviews site you have to scroll down a bit until you see my mug looking at you. So far, reviews have been good and positive!

Something exciting that's coming up: on Wednesday, the 25th, WJTL, a Christian radio station here in southcentral PA, will be giving away copies of The Hunted during the 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. hours.

I'm feeling a little better this morning, the nausea is waning on its own and hopefully I can start using a couple ice cubes in my beverage of choice now. Lukewarm fluid just doesn't quench the thirst.

Now, a verse to leave you with. I stumbled upon this one this morning and it warmed my heart. This is what the Lord, God says, I myself will search for my sheep and take care of them. That's found in Ezekiel 34:11. Remind you of anything Jesus said? He's the good shepherd and searches relentlessly for His lost sheep, combing the hillside, braving thickets and cliffs and darkened forests. Battling wolves. He searches and searches until He finds that one lost sheep He's looking for, then He takes care of him, treats him like he's the only sheep in the fold.

And what I love about that Ezekiel verse is that God, the Creator of the universe, Master of everything, all-Sovereign One, all-Powerful One . . . GOD, says that He Himself searches and cares for us. He doesn't send out an employee or a servant or a friend. He does the dirty work Himself. He does the tender work Himself. It's all of Him.

That's what warms my heart. Knowing that in this valley I'm traversing, God doesn't send a surrogate to see me through it, no, He's caring for my personally, He's holding my hand, He's carrying me.

That's a personal God.

Okay, so maybe this post wasn't so quick and short. I got carried away.

Easy Living

Here's something I was thinking about yesterday at lunch. I truly believe God drops these thoughts in my head from time to time to give me a right perspective and keep me on track.

Before all this cancer stuff started, I used to think my life was hard, what with family responsibilities, work responsibilities, church stuff, yard and house upkeep, writing stuff, and other things that popped up from time to time and demanded my time and energy. Life was hectic and busy.

You know what, though? You know what God showed me yesterday? When all this cancer treatment is over, the weekly doctor's visits, the nuisance chemo pump, the ileostomy, the weird and ill-feeling side effects, the uncertainty, blah, blah, blah, and my life settles back into what I would consider "normal", whatever that is anymore, it's going to seem really easy. I realize just how blessed I was (and still am to even be given the opportunity to notice something like this). And even with what I'm going through now I should be counting my blessings.

How's that for a shot of perspective?

Wherever you are in life, whatever you're going through . . . count your blessings.