Sep 13
If you’re tired of hearing good news about people with little-to-no medical hope who are amazing doctors by how well they are doing, don’t even bother to read this.
Marc & Elizabeth Hirsh
Okay, because you’re still here, I could not be more happy–and thankful to God–to tell you that my oncologist and dear friend, Dr. Marc Hirsh, had another encouraging scan! This latest 6-month checkup at Hershey Medical comes almost 2.5 years after he was diagnosed with such a serious and rare cancer that he and every specialist consulted thought his death was imminent.
But the large tumor behind his heart has remained stable for the past two years.
“I’m really happy I got a good report–the tumor hasn’t grown and actually is a little smaller (about 5X3 cm instead of 6X4 cm),” Marc told me. “Now I can enjoy another ski season and have time for traveling.
“I’m delighted my short-term prognosis is excellent,” he added with his usual penchant for cautious optimism.
Contentment.
LoveHopeandTruth.com
That’s the word that Marc never actually used in our conversation, but I heard in his voice.
He’s a 71-year-old man forced to close his successful three-decade-long oncology practice immediately after his diagnosis, and still living in the shadow of cancer…and yet he feels contentment.
“I’m enjoying my life quite a bit,” he said. “I know it (the cancer) may or may not come back, but I’m pretty much enjoying life a lot.”
“Life” includes another cross-country excursion out West this fall to visit older daughter Jessi and family, as well as regular trips to Maryland to help out younger daughter Sarah with her son and two little foster girls. And of course, plenty of physical activities like swimming, kayaking, paddle boarding, jogging, and biking.
And music is still a huge part of Marc’s life. For the past 30 years, he has ministered in song at our Prayer Support Group concerts for area cancer patients, their caregivers, and those grieving someone lost to cancer. After Marc’s diagnosis in May 2020, I honestly thought there never would be another concert, but this past Sunday for the second time as a cancer survivor, he extended healing through his beautiful music and wise words. .
Marc, a Messianic Jew, began by sharing his personal testimony through his original melody “Jesus Took Away My Blues” and ended with the words of the old song that always bring me to tears: “And when I come to die, just give me Jesus.”
“Trouble is inevitable, (but) thank goodness we can have Jesus in our life,” he reminded the 65 folks in attendance.
Marc also shared from Psalm 27:
The Lord is my light and salvation–so why should I be afraid?
The LORD is my fortress, protecting from danger, so why should I tremble?…
The one thing I ask of the LORD–the thing I seek the most–
is to live in the house of the LORD all the days of my life…”
Before the concert Marc mentioned to me that he really liked the new oncologist he saw at Hershey.
“When I asked him if he had ever seen anyone with my diagnosis who was doing well, he said ‘no’,” Marc recalled. “But he added that nobody has ever had the same treatment (radiation, chemo and hormone injections) that I prescribed for myself.”
And then the new doc reminded Marc of something he knew but was encouraged to hear again: “Even in the worst cancer, there are long-term survivors.”
Marc, we are praying that’s what you will be.
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Please enjoy the very short music video of “Hope to Carry On” by Rich Mullins, Marc and Elizabeth’s favorite Christian artist.
Jul 26
My husband’s Cousin Marge, born a premie in 1919, came with a doctor’s warning to her parents: “Don’t get too attached because she’s not going to survive.”
Marge 1920
For years Marge loved to tell that story, including the detail of spending her first few months sleeping in a shoebox. That precarious beginning seemed to set the stage for nearly nine decades of perseverance and at times downright feistiness.
When Marge graduated from high school in 1937, she ignored her father’s advice that “girls don’t need to go to college” and enrolled at Slippery Rock State College (which she lovingly called “Slimy Pebble”). In ’41 she became the first person in her family to earn a college degree–hers was in Physical Education, which led to a job with a YWCA and a long career with the Girl Scouts.
Always ready for an adventure–planned or not–about 2 AM on the night of her 65th birthday, Marge was jolted awake by blaring fire alarms. The blaze destroyed the Gettysburg Hotel connected to her third-floor apartment, but for Marge, the middle-of-the-night scramble down the metal fire escape was confirmation of her favorite phrase: “Everything has a story.”
Thanksgiving 1983
Marge was a consummate volunteer–delivering Meals on Wheels, feeding nursing home residents, working with a center for peace and justice, helping out at Toys for Tots, and doing just about everything except preach at her local church.
When our girls were born, Marge treated them like grandchildren (instead of 4th cousins!) and always orchestrated special outings and fun traditions because she believed “it’s important to make memories.”
In her later years before she passed away at the age of 88, we had the privilege of caring for Marge after dementia robbed her of most of those wonderful memories. We took care of her activities of daily living and/or hired others to assist in the apartment where we relocated her very close to us.
Marge 1938
After I had been handling her finances for a couple of years, Marge confessed to me one day: “I don’t remember writing any checks to pay my bills and I don’t know if I have any money.”
“All your bills are paid and you even have money left,” I assured her as I pulled out her checkbook from my purse.
Marge took one look at the balance of a few hundred dollars and exclaimed with a huge grin: “Well, I’m filthy wealthy!”
We had a good laugh and whenever she mentioned money again, I reminded her that she was “filthy wealthy.”
I’ve often pondered Marge’s contentment in life and have decided that Marge, indeed, was filthy wealthy.
I have concluded that I also am filthy wealthy.
And if you know Jesus, I believe, you are, too.
The Apostle Paul in Ephesians 3:8 declared it was his privilege to share:
“the good news about the immeasurable riches of Christ.“
In Him we find peace, patience, provision, promises, power, purpose and so much more.
Riches…
Unlimited.
Unsearchable.
Unfathomable.
Infinite.
Incalculable.
Incomprehensible.
Plain and simple…His riches are more than enough for whatever we face.
And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches,
which have been given to us in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19
So the next time you find yourself lacking–strength, money, love, hope, or you name it–remind yourself as I did my Cousin Marge: In Christ you are “filthy wealthy.”
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Don’t miss the beautiful music video “More Than Gold” by Judikay.
Jul 12
“Hi, my name is Lynn, and I’m a compulsive planner.”
That’s how I would introduce myself if I found a support group for people like me who believe they simply must plan everything. (I basically have to plan to be spontaneous.)
Image by inspireus from Pixabay
I told my husband (a compulsive impromptu person) that I was thinking of blogging about planning. His reply with a slight eye-roll: “So you’re planning to write about planning?”
I feel badly for him living with a compulsive planner, but the handwriting was on the wall–literally–when we started dating in college and he saw my day was scheduled in 15-minute calendar increments.
God is a God of plans, but I know that His plans and mine are not always the same. And more importantly, I’ve learned that sometimes I need to ditch mine so I don’t miss out on His good gifts.
I’m so rarely spontaneous that when I do have a spontaneous thought, I’ve discovered it’s often God speaking. Like the day I was doing my brisk, 3-mile neighborhood walk and coming up the big hill where I always go straight on that route. But that day, I “felt” as if I should turn on to a little cul-de-sac that I normally take on a different route.
I hesitated, veered right, and shortly saw a woman who is part of the same, large church as we are.
I slowed slightly to say “hi” and inquire how she was.
“I’m recovering from cancer surgery” was her reply, which stopped me in my tracks–literally.
I listened to her story, prayed with her and later dropped off 50 Days of Hope. She was so appreciative and marveled that I “happened” to walk by just before she planned to go inside.
Had I stuck to my very logical walking plan, I would have missed a divine appointment.
I’ve had many similar moments when an unplanned idea pops up.
Like the time our daughter Bethany was playing junior high basketball at a school an hour away so we didn’t plan to attend. But while at work, the clear thought came to me: “Go to Bethany’s game.” We drove to the school and joyfully witnessed her sink the winning basket. Afterwards a beaming Bethany explained she told herself “I can do all things through Christ who gives me the strength.”
Another day at work, I spontaneously thought we should drive to daughter Lindsey’s fast-pitch softball game despite the distance and the cold spring day. Wrapped in winter coats, gloves, and blankets, we cheered like crazy as she struck out the side three innings in a row–her best pitching outing ever.
I’ve never heard God audibly, but many times I have sensed Him urging me to:
Pray for a certain person.
Send a card to a specific friend.
Do something difficult (like start a support group!)
Love someone who doesn’t “deserve” it.
Trust Him when it doesn’t make sense.
I can’t promise how you will “hear” God’s voice–it could be a Scripture verse, a friend’s wise counsel, or an impromptu idea–but I can promise He is speaking.
Listen carefully to what God the LORD is saying,
for he speaks peace to his faithful people. Psalm 85:8
Your own ears will hear him.
Right behind you a voice will say, “This is the way you should go,”
whether to the right or the left. Isaiah 30:21
I’m planning to listen for God each day to direct my steps–literally and figuratively. Seems like a good plan for a compulsive planner. 🙂
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Enjoy this peaceful 2 1/2-minute music video, “Open Our Eyes” by Steffany Gretzinger.
Jun 29
My parents 1952
My mother grew up in the days when gentlemen drove and ladies rode, so she didn’t get behind the wheel of a car until well into her thirties. Fortunately, she loved to walk and I have happy memories of us walking, talking, and playing “Twenty Questions.”
I still love to walk. My jogging days are over, but nearly every day for more than two decades, I have hiked three miles.
Since we moved to a neighborhood with sidewalks seven years ago, my daily steps have been a great way to meet people.
“Are you going to talk to someone today?” my introvert husband asked as I tied my Hoka athletic shoes.
“I never know,” I replied with my extrovert smile.
But I do know that I’m praying to be an “agent of blessing.”
That’s a term I read in a devotional by Chris Tiegreen based on Proverbs 11:11:
“By the blessing of the upright, the city is exalted.”
Here are some answers to my traveling prayer:
A bright, summer morning I saw a forlorn-looking boy sitting on his bicycle blocking the sidewalk. As I got closer, he moved to the grass.
“Thank you–that was really thoughtful of you!” I told him. ” You are a kind young man. I hope you know God loves you very much. Never forget that!”
He cheerily responded: “Have a nice day!”
One cold afternoon as I approached a middle-aged woman getting off a bus, I remarked: “That red coat is a beautiful color on you!”
She smiled broadly, confessed she was lost, and asked if I could help her find her destination. I Googled it on my phone and pointed out the building to her.
Image by Bryan Clayton from Pixabay
Just today I overheard two lawn care workers speaking Spanish during their water break. I smiled and said, “I have a blessing for you–OK?”
They both nodded yes, while one took out his earbud and the other removed his hat. I spoke the Español blessing I memorized when I traveled to Mexico for the Spanish edition of my first book many years ago: “Les mando mucho saludos y bendiciones en el nombre de Cristo .” *
“Muchas gracias!” was the grinning reply.
The ways God uses me as an agent of blessing may look very different than how He uses you, but I believe each of us “upright” people can be a blessing-deliverer.
You may not be a talkative people-person like I am, but as Christ-followers, the same Spirit who guides and empowers me lives inside you as well! He will use your distinctive personality and gifts to be an agent of blessing no matter what path you’re on–physically or metaphorically speaking.
You might be at the office offering smiles or compliments to co-workers.
You might be home dishing out warm hugs and delicious dinner to children.
You might be sitting on the couch signing a card of encouragement to a struggling friend.
You might be flat on your back in bed picking up the phone to check on another hurting person.
You even might be in a doctor’s office or chemo room silently praying that healthcare workers and patients see Jesus in you– despite the dread you feel.
We may never know this side of Heaven how our blessing touched another person. But whether our travels are happy or hard, planned or pushed upon us, we can trust God to use us as agents of blessing in a world longing for His loving-kindness.
* (For my non-Spanish speaking friends, “I bring you many greetings and blessings in the Name of the Christ.”)
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Enjoy the words of the old hymn “Make Me a Blessing.”
Jun 15
In my nearly two decades as a cancer patient advocate for Dr. Marc Hirsh, I met (and liked) 3,000+ newly diagnosed patients.
This is a story about the only one I didn’t like and the miracle God did in both our hearts.
That patient was told he always would be under cancer’s shadow. He was told there was no hope of a cure.
What he wasn’t told was that God had other plans.
Image by Axel Mellin from Pixabay
I met “Frank” in January 1997, however I knew of him already because his wife was our patient and often confided how little support she felt from him on her cancer journey. Her sorrowful stories shaded my opinion before I ever laid eyes on her husband
I still can picture him in our waiting room–the unkempt hair and the long, dirty fingernails. His wife was trying to help with his new patient paperwork and he wasn’t cooperating.
I am embarrassed to say this, but I decided right then and there I didn’t like him. I will be cordial, but nothing more, I told myself.
Later that day I discussed Frank’s diagnosis/prognosis with Marc and added, “Did you see the tattoo of the naked lady on his arm?”
“No,” Marc replied. “I was too busy looking at the swastika on his other arm.”
He laughed. As a Jew the symbol was offensive to him, but he wouldn’t allow it to alter the way he treated Frank.
“He probably got it a long time ago and wishes he didn’t,” Marc added.
The next day I dutifully sent Frank a note, slightly exaggerating that it was “nice” to meet him.
A few months later Frank’s wife passed away, and I wondered why he got to live and she didn’t.
It wasn’t long before I got my answer.
In the spring of 1998, Marc told me he was admitting Frank to the hospital because of an accidental chemotherapy overdose. I was very distraught to hear this—not so much for Frank as for Marc, because I knew he was extremely upset. Frank took an oral chemo at home and through a series of errors by him, the pharmacy, and our office, he took a lethal dose.
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
“What’s going to happen?” I asked Marc.
“He’s going to die,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I’m putting him in the hospital, but there’s nothing I can do to stop this.”
Frank’s white blood cell count, which should have been between 4,000 and 10,000, had plummeted to 300. Marc read all the medical literature, which predicted it would take two weeks for the count to bottom out. No way Frank could survive that long with no white cells to protect him from infection.
“Well, I’m praying that he won’t die,” I firmly told Marc. (I think I was praying more for Marc than Frank.)
A couple of days later I (finally) went to the hospital to visit this destined-to-die man. Frank spoke warmly of his late wife and I had to admit he seemed pretty likable in spite of my jaded opinion of him.
At the visit’s end, I asked him if he would like me to pray with him.
“Sure,” he said with a big smile.
So I did, but contrary to the hundreds of times I’d prayed with patients, I did not offer to hold his hand .
Right after that first visit, Frank’s white count started climbing–up to 1,200—still not good, but a whole lot better.
I kept visiting, his count kept rising, and our conversations kept going deeper.
“Are you afraid of dying?” I queried one day.
“Nope,” he replied. “Everybody has to go sometime.”
“What do you think happens to people when they die?” I ventured a little further.
“You either go up or you go down,” he quickly answered.
LifeHopeandTruth.com
But Frank didn’t know which way he was headed, so I shared John 3:36: “Anyone who believes in God’s Son has eternal life. Anyone who doesn’t obey the Son will never experience eternal life.”
I asked Frank if he wanted to follow Jesus and have that assurance of Heaven. He agreed, so I took his hand in mine– long, dirty fingernails, offensive tattoo and all—and we prayed.
At my next visit, Frank talked freely about many subjects, including his tattoos, which he said he got many years ago and deeply regretted. (I hate it when Marc is right!)
At the end of our time I asked him if he wanted to pray and he immediately held his hand out to me. He asked me to pray for him to quit smoking and to grow closer to God. We held hands long after the “Amen” and I savored the moment as God filled my heart with more love for Him and for Frank.
A couple of days later Frank’s white count was high enough to leave the hospital. At his first office recheck, he arrived clean shaven, fingernails trimmed, and with a hug and kiss on the cheek for me.
One of the last times I saw Frank was in the spring of 1999 before he moved out West to be near family. Still in complete remission from his cancer, we talked about the amazing way God had saved him physically and spiritually.
There were tears in Frank’s eyes because knew he had done nothing to “deserve” a miracle. But there were more tears in my eyes because I knew it was only by God’s loving grace that I got to witness His awesome power in the life of the one cancer patient I didn’t want to like.
Excerpted from Finding the Light in Cancer’s Shadow © Lynn Eib 2006 ++++++++++++++++++++
Music video “Oh, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus” by Audrey Assad, feat. Fernando Ortega.
I’m a newspaper reporter-turned-author. And I’m a passionate encourager, but always a truth-teller. I worked for nearly two decades in a unique position as a patient advocate in my oncologist’s office and the Cancer Prayer Support Group I founded in 1991 is the country’s oldest such faith-based group.
