Category: families

Sep 06

Come sit in the E.R. with me

 

 

 

 

 

 

These halls are quiet on a Sunday morning with only the sound of monitors to echo in the silence of large emergency room.

Not this again. I am tired of this place.

It’s been a while since I’ve stood here, and yet it comes right back as if it were but a minute past. The too quiet of suppressed discomfort and fear, the too still of exhaustion, all mixed into the smell of sterility and latex.

“Are they going to do anything that hurts me, Mom?”

“No, son.” I hope not, son.

Chase is seven now. He’s five whole years past the first minute we heard the awful words “There’s a large mass”. He’s five whole years into his aggressive, malignant brain and spine tumors and his eye problems and his heart and hearing issues, and every other issue that seems to walk hand-in-hand with that cancer word.

Every time he is wheeled into the MRI, the news comes that his status remains “No Evidence of Disease”, but the magnetic resonance can’t quite pick up on the evidence of pain, suffering, brokenness, and exhaustion.

This Sunday morning, the rest of the family is at church and Chase and I, we sit in the darkened ER room not because he’s had a seizure, or a relapse, or even a headache. Oh no, we sit in this space because his face is swelling and it needs to be stopped. The doctor explains in matter-of-fact tones that the airways are crucial and swelling is sometimes bad for breathing.

And my balding boy’s face swells and grows some more against cheeks tinged pink with fevers because when you’ve had ten different chemotherapies and radiation and everything but the kitchen sink thrown at your body when you could barely walk, well, sometimes your immune system decides to go A.W.O.L. over a cavity. One little cavity that goes rogue and becomes an abscess and then suddenly we are sitting in the ER on a Sunday morning instead of going to church. Again.

I want to fight it. I don’t want this to be how the day goes.

And yet, isn’t this the way of it all too often when it comes to life and cancer? The big things are sometimes the easiest to accept because they just straight-up rob you of breath and heart beats and feel so inevitable in their “bigness”. It’s the little things like the port that occludes, the eyelashes that fall out, the random side effect or the ninety-seventh time to the ER that just wastes away at my patience and my faith. The little foxes in the vineyard of the faith marriage between my Savior and me [Song of Solomon 2:15] are beeping monitors, sticky IV needles, and the nurses who say “Okay, we just have one more set of questions for you here.” Make it stop, please Lord.

So many times I have prayed to be delivered from the awful repeat of the hospital day. So many times the answer is no. And quite a handful of times the answer is no and there’s more.

So many wild cards…

And yet, here’s the thing and don’t miss it…

Jesus is in charge of the wild cards. In truth, the wild is not wild to him. “To [God] the night shines bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.” It only looks upside-down and inside-out to us.

So where do you go when it’s the ninety-seventh hit in a row on your patience and faith is feeling really thin and worn?

I’m so glad you asked. Come sit in the ER with me – in these uncomfortable chairs – and we will review what we know to be true. Because I need to hear it again…and maybe you do too?

God is good even when He doesn’t do what we ask: “Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness’.” [2 Corinthians 12:8-9a]

God sees things we cannot see: “Now we see things imperfectly like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely just as God now knows me completely.” [1 Corinthians 13:12]

God is for us: “The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.” [Exodus 14:14]

And here’s why I lay these verses down again and again even though they hold no help for radiation-rotten teeth, and no cure for a 7-year-old desperately broken by a tragic disease. Here’s why: because I may never get the answers I want on this side of heaven. I may never see the healing I desire, the miracles I crave, and the next time I pray not to go to the ER, there’s a very real chance that I could end up with Chase admitted instead – because this is the way of the cancer world: two steps back for every one slow shuffle forward.

But this: God’s words are sharper than the sharpest scalpel and cleave through everything that holds us back from his love. And God’s promises are more tried and true than the best treatments the cutting edge of research has to offer. And sometime, someday, though the hair might fall, and the skin color fade, this word of the Lord is forever and ever, AMEN.

In Christ alone, our hope is found.

So wherever you are this week, whatever you’ve asked to be released from, whatever you just can’t possibly do one more time, actually, YOU CAN.

“For when I am weak, then I am strong”…IN CHRIST. [2 Corinthians 12:10]

Thank you so much for stepping into the ER room with me. Until we step into the throne room of our precious Jesus, and I get to meet you, we will take this life as it comes in grace… moment by moment.

 

TODAY’S GUEST BLOGGER is Ellie Poole Ewoldt, a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. Her days are spent in the craziness of caring for four little kids, one of whom is a cancer survivor.  www.chaseawaycancer.com

 

 

 

 

 

Aug 16

Is Jesus REALLY Enough?

 

 

 

 

 

My cancer diagnosis  in 1990 was especially upsetting to my husband because he had lost his first wife nearly 20 years before to ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) while they were still newlyweds. To watch me then face a life-threatening illness and an uncertain future was more than he felt he could bear.

One day as he was riding home from the hospital after visiting me during my post-surgical stay, he came upon a car with a bumper sticker that read:

As a seminary graduate, my husband theologically knew the right answer to that question. And as a longtime pastor, he often had preached the affirmative answer to that query. But that day he was so overcome with worry and fear of losing yet another wife that he wondered out loud: “Is He really?” “Is Jesus really enough?”

 

Have you asked that same question?

If I lose a breast…is Jesus enough?

If I get sick during treatments…is Jesus enough?

If I lose my hair to chemo…is Jesus enough?

If I have to quit work…is Jesus enough?

And worst of all, if the cure doesn’t come…is Jesus really enough?

 

My husband answered that question for himself two weeks later when he stepped into the pulpit on Sunday morning and preached one of his most powerful sermons ever, entitled “Jesus is Enough.” In it, he reminded all of us—and himself—that God doesn’t need to do another thing for us on this earth. He has given us His one and only Son, and in Him we have everything we need to cope with this life and every promise for eternal life. No matter what else does, or doesn’t happen to us, God doesn’t need to do another thing to prove to us that indeed, Jesus is enough.

 

Dear Jesus, It feels unfair to have to face this illness after I’ve tried so hard to live for You. And then I remember that You lived completely for your Father and life still was very unfair to You. I’m glad You understand what I’m feeling and most of all, I’m so grateful that Your presence living in me is enough for me. Please help me deal with the changes that this disease is bringing into my life/my loved one’s life. I pray they all will be temporary ones and that health will be restored completely. But even if it’s not, I pray that my soul will be satisfied in You alone. I pray all this in Your name. Amen.

Today’s Tip: Listen for the word “ENOUGH” in conversations and when you hear it, remind yourself that Jesus IS enough.

(This blog is adapted from a devotional I had published in the book Praying through Cancer:Set Your Heart Free from Fear, copyright 2006 Susan Sorensen and Laura Geist, W Publishing Co., a division of Thomas Nelson Inc.)

I know I included this same song recently, but I LOVE it and it fits better than any other I could find–please enjoy it again! 🙂 

(If the music video doesn’t automatically load, please copy, paste and insert this link to enjoy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6fA35Ved-Y&list=RDB6fA35Ved-Y )

Apr 26

How to Be Good to Yourself so You Can Be Better for Someone Else

 

So what’s the gauge reading on your emotional tank today? Getting low and searching for a fill-up? Half-empty and still draining? On fumes and slowly coasting downhill? I want to encourage caregivers today because the focus is so much on the patient that those standing by them often get forgotten. (If your’re not a caregiver right now, I hope you’ll read this anyway because you probably will be one some day and because it may help you understand how the “other” side feels!)

I first came across the idea of an “emotional tank” while raising our three daughters and reading How to Really Love Your Child by psychiatrist Dr. Ross Campbell. The book’s basic premise is that each child has a figurative emotional tank which gets filled by his or her parents as the child’s emotional needs are met. Only when that tank is full can children be expected to be at their best.

As we age we don’t outgrow our need to have our emotional tank filled. And just like kids, we only can be expected to be at our best when our tanks are full. All day long people and events make either withdrawals or deposits in our lives. Some of our tanks were so neglected when we were children that they leak easily, and we have trouble keeping them full as adults. Others of us have put lids on our tanks, hoping no one can ever make a large withdrawal again, but that also makes it difficult for anyone to make a deposit.

And then along comes cancer or a heart attack or dementia or some other diagnosis the life of someone you love. Forget about the lid. These life events can ram huge holes right in the side of your tank and quickly drain your emotional well-being, leaving you frantically searching for a refill.

And now, because you’re not a child, it’s your job to make sure your own tank gets filled.

 

I talked recently with my friend Cynthia about the crucial, but exhausting role of caregiver because 1.) she’s been one for more than a decade and 2.) she’s written a really helpful book on the subject.[1]

Cynthia says her role as caregiver to her husband, Jim, has endured much shifting throughout his thirteen-year journey with non-small cell lung cancer.

“The role of caregiver changes depending on what Jim’s doing and what’s happening with him,” she explains. “I’ve worn different hats at different times—I’ve been a cheerleader at times, and other times I’ve been called on to be a nurse.”

Because Cynthia has been a caregiver for so long—through seven lung cancer recurrences, one go-round with prostate cancer, multiple surgeries, and countless treatments—I asked her how she finds the physical and emotional energy she needs to care for Jim.

She recommends finding a support group, ideally one just for caregivers. “Then you can really express yourself instead of both trying to protect each other,” she says.

“That first year [after Jim’s diagnosis] I didn’t really do a good job of taking care of myself,” Cynthia admits.

But in the intervening years, she says she has tried to play tennis or do Pilates or yoga two or three times a week. “That really helps me with stress,” she explains.

Cynthia also joined a community singing group, which she says “always lifts my spirits.” Together she and Jim find stress relief by watching comedies and reading funny books on “hospital humor.”

For most of the past three decades I’ve been a caregiver for family members who were either physically or mentally unwell. I’ve had a relative with dementia living in our home for years, and I’ve made biweekly seven-hour car trips for months to be with a relative undergoing chemo. I’ve been so physically fatigued I had to literally crawl up the stairs, and I’ve been so emotionally spent I’ve spent hundreds of dollars to pour out my woes to a counselor.

Caregiving is incredibly hard. I get it.

But I also know we make the job even more difficult when we fail to take good care of ourselves. Do you know what Jesus said the two most important commandments are? First, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind” and second, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (see Matthew 22:36-39).

Don’t miss those last two words: “as yourself.” The Bible doesn’t just say to “love your neighbor,” it says we need to love ourselves. In fact, we can’t really love other people if we don’t love ourselves.

It is not selfish of you to do something refreshing, rejuvenating, or relaxing for yourself. You cannot “fill up” your loved one when you both are running on fumes. Somebody is going to stall and get rear-ended.

But an emotional tank doesn’t come with a loud, flashing warning when it’s getting low. You have to pay attention and notice the telltale signs in your life. Then when emotional refilling is needed, you have three ways to be replenished.

Firstly, make your own deposits by finding ways to “be good to yourself.” Watch a funny movie, enjoy a massage, go fishing, get a pedicure, take a walk, hit a bucket of balls, or catch a nap. What rejuvenates me may not do the same for you, but you can figure out what makes you feel better for the long term. (Don’t settle for the temporary fixes of alcohol or drugs because they will quickly drain your peace as soon as they wear off.) If you can’t leave your family member alone, this is the time to call in one of those offers of help others have made. Do something to lift your spirits so afterward you can once again lift someone else’s.

Secondly, allow your friends and family to do things for you and with you that will enrich your emotional well-being. You cannot be expected to be at your best all by yourself. But people cannot read your mind, so clearly tell them a specific way to make a deposit in your tank. If you don’t think you have friends who can improve your life, then pray and ask God to send someone your way. The apostle Paul described how God once sent someone to encourage him at just the right time.

When we arrived in Macedonia, there was no rest for us. We faced conflict from every direction, with battles on the outside and fear on the inside. But God, who encourages those who are discouraged, encouraged us by the arrival of Titus. His presence was a joy. 2 Corinthians 7:5-7

And finally, spend time with God and ask Him to pour into you His supernatural hope, love, strength, and, yes, even peace in the face of caregiving.

The LORD gives his people strength. The LORD blesses them with peace. Psalm 29:11

Whom have I in heaven but you?
I desire you more than anything on earth.
My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,
but God remains the strength of my heart;
he is mine forever. Psalm 73:25-26

“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.” Jesus speaking in John 14:27

When your emotional tank needs refilling, you can do it yourself, let others do it, or allow God to do it. But I truly believe you’ll be most fulfilled when you rely on all three. The most loving thing you may do for your loved one today is to be good to yourself.

 

[1]
Cynthia Zahm Siegfried, Cancer Journey: A Caregiver’s View from the Passenger Seat (CZS Books, 2010). For her online support group, f.a.i.t.H. (facing an illness through Him), go to http://faithsupportgroup.com/welcome.html.

(If the music video below doesn’t automatically load, please copy and past this link to enjoy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pEG7reKSf0 )

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pEG7reKSf0

Mar 15

Is Heaven on Your Mind?

 

 

 

 

How much do you think about Heaven? A lot? A little? Not at all?

Whether your earthly life is close to it’s end or you have many decades still in front of you, I hope your thoughts turn often to Heaven because that eternal perspective lifts the weariness we all face. One of my dear friends who thought well and often of Heaven was named Melina.

Melina was a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty (think, full-blooded Italian parents!) She and her husband Brian met in 1988 and married a decade later. Together their love produced two adorable little girls, Cecilia and Olivia. Melina was a mortgage broker and Brian worked as an electrical engineer.

It was a beautiful world.

But that was before October of 2003 came. And with it a diagnosis for 33-year-old Melina of colon cancer. I had just met Melina’s younger sister Rina through a mutual friend and I sent Melina a little note of encouragement when I heard about her diagnosis. I knew how important it was to hear from other survivors of “your” kind of cancer. I reminded her that I was still alive after having colon cancer spread to five lymph nodes (she “only” had it in two).

After surgery, Melina started chemotherapy, availing herself of the new anti-colon cancer drugs that had not been available to me back in 1990. But in August of 2004, three weeks after doctors told her there was no evidence of disease, she developed terrible abdominal pain: a grapefruit sized mass was on her ovary. Then a PET scan showed tiny cancerous spots in both lungs.

Melina quit her job to stay home with her daughters and for the next nearly three years, Melina fought back against the cancer, enduring such things as a clinical trial that left her bedridden for five months and a trip to Germany for a new laser procedure to remove the lung nodules. She spent two weeks in California learning about organic and whole food nutrition, and traveled to cancer centers in Philadelphia and Virginia to see what they could offer.

Each new approach seemed to knock down the cancer for a while, only to have it rear its ugly head once again.

Like many cancer patients do during their fight, Melina started a web page. She called it “Melina’s Hope.” As an author who appreciates a really great opening thought, I loved the way Melina began the first page of her site: “You might think my hope is to preserve my earthly life…”

That’s exactly what I was thinking her hope would be. But that’s because I was thinking of her cancer diagnosis as the beginning of her story. She set me and all her readers straight right away by explaining “My story begins one Sunday morning in August 2002.

“What a beautiful day,” she writes. “It was the day I accepted the Lord Jesus into my heart. With that acceptance came a promise: if I trust the Lord with all my heart and acknowledge Him in all my ways, He would direct my paths—and that He did in my journey with colon cancer.”

And that is why Melina said her strongest hope was not to preserve her earthly life, “but more important than that, is my hope that my story changes but one heart to accept the love and protection that comes from our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and don’t depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do and he will show you which path to take. Proverbs 3:5

That was Melina’s favorite verse—the one on which she firmly staked her life and the one by which she squarely faced her death.

“I can’t abandon the one true healer, Jesus Christ,” she wrote about five months before her passing. “It’s His decision where my healing will take place, here on earth or with Him in heaven. That is where my hope and comfort come from. I trust completely that the Lord will do what is best for me, my family and friends.”

Even though Melina grieved that she was going to leave this earth and not see her little girls grow up or grow old with her husband, she had hope because she knew this life is not all there is.

Hope that she was not saying goodbye forever.

Hope that she was headed to her real Home: Heaven.

Hope that in Heaven she would get a new disease-free body.

Hope that one day there would be a grand reunion of all her family and friends who also trusted in the Lord.

Near the very end of her life, she told her distraught adult family members: “I know you guys don’t want to hear this, but I know where I’m going and I can’t wait to get there!”

Then she added with a smile: “You’ll see me again.”

One of my favorite daydreams is to imagine that upon my arrival in Heaven, Jesus greets me and then takes me to a long line of smiling people: Melina and all of the faith-filled cancer patients I knew. I see that they are physically healed just like we prayed for so many times. We embrace and while there are no sad tears in Heaven, in my daydream I am filled with tears of joy.

But my dream is not just wishful thinking. The promise of Heaven for all who believe in Jesus is real and I know that reunion will really happen.

Another one of the people I look forward to seeing in Heaven is someone I never met on earth: my paternal great-grandmother May Andrews Peirce. She was a prolific poet and I’d like to think my writing ability came down through her genes. In 1928 when she was nearly 60, she wrote a poem she called “HOME.”

In childhood’s days, our thoughts of Heaven

Are pearly gates, and streets of gold.

But in the gathering years,

When time, within its fading leaf

With eyes, perchance be-dimmed with tears,

And hearts oft’ overwhelmed with grief,

We look beyond the pearly gates,

Beyond the clouds of sin’s dark night,

And see a place where loved ones wait,

A place all beautiful and bright.

And over all, we’ll see the face of Him

Who’ll bring us to our own—

Not to some far-off, distant place.

For Heaven is, after all, just HOME.

Today’s song is a real OLDIE (but goodie) from a live performance by Keith Green in 1977. Five years later he was killed in a plane crash at the age of 29. I’ve also included a “bonus,” more contemporary song about Heaven. (If the videos don’t automatically load for you, please copy and paste these links to hear.)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbzJYqj2xC4https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1lrfjmSFkU

Mar 08

A Boy, a Dad and Some Pizza

 

 

 

 

My 4-year-old grandson Benjamin may look more like his mother, but he is a total Daddy’s boy—as in, the best time of day is when Daddy comes home and the worst time is when he leaves.

So it wasn’t surprising when we were all at a local pizza buffet restaurant recently and Benny looked up and asked:  “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s at the buffet getting salad,” I replied. “Remember, he told you he was going there and he would be right back?”

“No, I can’t see him,” Benny said as his inside “restaurant” voice got a little louder.

“I can see him, Ben,” I calmly told him. “He’s right there,” I said, gesturing to the salad bar at the end of the room.

Benny surveyed as much of the room as he could see from his height advantage and frantically announced: “I can’t see Daddy!”

Quickly he jumped down from our table calling for his father: “Daaaaaaaaddy!”

“Over here, Ben!” his Dad quickly replied, as the little guy followed that familiar voice to the salad buffet, where, surprise, surprise, Daddy stood smiling. The two joined hands as Ben swallowed his tears and waited patiently for Daddy to finish and walk back to the table with him.

Poor little Benny: he was worried and afraid because he lost sight of his Daddy.

Do you know how he felt? Have the struggles of this world—in your life or in someone’s life that you care for—weighed you down so much you’ve lost sight of your heavenly Father?

You’re straining to see how it’s all going to pan out. You’re wondering if God really can work all things together for good. You really need to feel His reassuring touch.

I suggest you follow the steps my worried little grandson took.

  1. Tell a trusted friend/relative that you’re having trouble seeing God in your/your loved one’s life right now. Make sure it’s someone who will listen to your feelings and not belittle them. Someone who loves you and will pray for you to see God again.
  2. Listen to your heavenly Father’s words about where He is in times of trouble. Psalm 34:18 “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. ” Psalm 145:18 The LORD is close to all who call on him, yes, to all who call on him in truth.”
  3. Call out to Him. Psalm 61:2 “From the ends of the earth, I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the towering rock of safety.” Psalm 10:17 “LORD, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will hear their cries and comfort them.”  Psalm 34:17 “The LORD hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles.”
  4. Listen for your heavenly Father’s familiar voice. John 10:14,16c “I am the good shepherd; I know my own sheep and they know me…They will listen to my voice, and there will be one flock with one shepherd.”
  5. Run to His open arms. Isaiah 40:11 “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart.”  Psalm 63:8 “My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”
  6. Let Him love you. Jeremiah 31:3-4 “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt.” Zephaniah 3:17b “He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love.”

It was wonderful to watch my son-in-law Frank quiet Benjamin with his love. It’s even more wonderful to feel God quiet us with His great love. May you see your Abba Father today and let Him love you as only He can.

(If the music video doesn’t automatically load below, please copy and paste this link to enjoy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzfPHnoT0-0 )