The irony of the urgent

Here I am, down in Indiana with mom and dad, hoping to offer some comfort and cheer. Hoping to make the burden a bit lighter, if that's possible. Hoping that the simplicity of my presence might help them breathe easier, sleep harder, and forget some of the difficulties the big "C" brings day after day after day.

I knew as I was driving that dad would look different than the last time I saw him; he can no longer turn his head, he lies exclusively in his hospice bed, and he just today received a catheter. Small movements bring great pain. And so I ever-so-lightly kiss the top of his bare head. And he says one of his favorite phrases: "'Preciate it." It is all he can do.

I comment on his fuzzy chin, and he offers to shave. With a smile, I tell him it doesn't matter, not at all. He is fine just the way he is. And within moments he is asleep again.

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The hospice literature tells us that in the last few months of a person's life, they begin to pull inward. They will stop keeping up with the television news, they will seldom be in the mood for a visit, they will doze off for most of the day.

And so I realize that every effort dad makes to interact with a child or grandchild, with a well-meaning parishioner, with a brother, with a friend, with a man he led to Christ, are precious gifts to us. They do not come naturally; they occur only because of intense effort on his part.

In the last few weeks, the visitors have been virtually non-stop--and don't get me wrong, I'm most grateful.

Still, it occurs to me how sad it is to wait to make these moments until the end of a person's life. Now I look back on my times with dad with fresh gratefulness; some days I regret I didn't drive to see him more often, that I didn't live closer the last few years, etc.

But mostly I learned from him to express my appreciation and love to others. As he showered affection on my sisters and I, I felt free to express my love to him, often and repeatedly. It was his way. It is perhaps the greatest gift he has given us. And in return we loved to give it back to him with our own expressions of fondness.

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And so, this week, I felt an urge to gather those I care about close to me. I wanted to tell them I enjoy their company; to tell them I admire their fortitude, wisdom, and compassion; to tell them that I treasure time spent in their presence. And that I hope our friendships and family relationships continue to thrive and grow.

If you read this entry, will you do me a favor? Will you call your mom or dad today and remind them that you're glad they are your parents? Or if you're not quite there in your relationship, will you reach out to them in some way, to let them know you're there, and that you do care. These people who have given us life, and nurtured our growth, and put up with our personality quirks, and accept us anyway are amazing.

Perhaps your parents are gone, or estranged for some reason, and you have already walked this journey of saying goodbye or parting ways for some reason. But I believe in my heart that there is someone in your life whom you value. We hesitate to give too much of ourselves emotionally for so many reasons; but self-protectiveness does not bring life. It does not lead to real living. It's just existing.

And you want more. And you should. If by any chance this entry prompts you to move towards someone in your life, will you let me know?

Peace,
Suzie

Living and Dying

My prayer seems awkward, but it rings true: "Father, help us to continue to breathe. Help us not to hold our breathe in these our last few months together as a family. Make us experts at showing love to our dad. Work supernaturally in this transition as dad has one foot planted here, one foot reaching out for his forever tomorrow."

And I believe in my heart that God will answer this request--it is, after all, his heart to see his children lovingly home to heaven. He is already showing up. He will show up next week when new limitations present themselves, and ultimately, he will usher our dear father home. The end for us here means a new celebration in heaven. I imagine that some of those dad knew here, some of those he made an impact on, may already be waiting in anticipation. It brings tears and a smile. As it should.

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Picture 1 is me and one-week-old baby Andrew. Isn't he amazing? He slept on my chest and when I started to sing lullabies he opened his eyes and moved his head around.

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Picture 2 is dad with his Ozzy Osbourne look, holding Cassie. The hat looks kind of like real hair; Cassie, who is only 2 1/2, loves to sit on grandpa's lap and snuggle. He says that brings him the most comfort of all.

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Picture 3 is dad and I at the IMAX to see Spiderman. Thanks to my sister Christi and my brother-in-laws for helping to make this happen!

quote for the day

"One need not be a servant to be able to serve."
-Victor Frankl

A bouncing new baby boy!

The Cross family has yet to bear a small baby, but this one takes the cake! Andrew Reed was born Friday afternoon, weighing 10 lbs. 6 ounces! Amazingly, the delivery went fine and my sister Julie is recovering at home now. Attached is a picture of dad holding Andrew.

He and mom traveled two hours on Friday to see the baby, and I’m so very glad they made it. Dad has declined quite steadily over the last four weeks. He uses a lift chair now exclusively and a wheelchair. Hospice was called in yesterday for in-home care.

Until this weekend, dad was not ready to accept his declining health. He was still hoping that he might regain some mobility. He is now seeing what we realized several weeks ago. It is time for him to be gracious with himself as he walks this journey into the arms of Jesus.

If you are praying, pray that hospice will be a help in making him comfortable. Pray that my mom will have a supernatural strength to deal with the situation. Pray that we will know if it would be wise to move both of them up to Grand Rapids to stay with me. And finally, pray that I will be quickly healed of the respiratory virus that I have had for a week now.

It’s impossible for me to explain how our heavenly Father is holding and directing us right now. He feels so very near, and indeed he is. (James 4:8)

Visit www.praybigbook.com

If you've ever wondered how to pray Scripture, how to pray more boldly, or how to pray for both little and big things, this is the book for you. Check out the web site and be sure to view the video for a laugh. This is a book I've been working on for several months, and it will release on July 1.

Plenty of free prayer resources on the web site, too. You'll especially like the free ecard that tells a friend "I Prayed for You Today."

Let me know what you think.

Oh, yes, and what do you think of this quote from CS Lewis:
"Your book bill ought to be your biggest extravagance." ~CS Lewis

Update on Dad's journey

We continue to covet your prayers. Dad has been growing progressively weaker over the last three weeks or so. We’ve made adjustments by getting him a lifeline button, having a nurse in a few times a week, etc.

Last night he had to go into the emergency room because the strength in his left leg had deteriorated so significantly. He is back home now, but it is now extremely difficult for him to get up from his chair. It may be time for us to consider hospice or to get some more help.

This is the verse I’ve prayed over our family for some time:
“You brought me into a spacious place; you rescued me because you delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19

Ironically, the spacious place dad is being led to comes through a journey of pain and progressive weakness. But I believe with all my heart that God’s preparing a place that will be spacious, vibrant, and perfect for dad.

Prayers that we would respond well as he takes this journey are appreciated. Especially for mom, with mother’s day coming this weekend. And his grandson’s birth is just a week away now. We will celebrate these moments with abandon, and then we will pray that God gives us the strength to graciously release him when the time comes.

Crazy, crazy

I'm all for spontaneity, but this week I'm craving a bit more routine.

We started a new Bible study on Sunday at my apartment, I had a yearly review at work, a visit to the amazing tulip festival in Holland, Michigan, two all-day meetings, summer clothes shopping, teaching water aerobics, blogging, a mother/daughter banquet, and a visit to Indiana. Next week I will return to a life of sanity and regular exercise.

Hey, y'all come back next week when I'll have more time to say something meaningful. Word up. (For some reason, all this chaos brings me back to the 80s.) Ha!

Quote for the day

“I am grateful that I started writing at a very early age, before I realized what a daring thing it is to do, to set down words on paper, to attempt to tell a story, create characters. We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are, to see through plastic sham to living, breathing reality, and to break down our defenses of self-protection in order to be free to receive and give love.” ~Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water

Guitar Heroes Rock!

OK, I've taken leave of my senses. Sunday night I was attending a barbeque with some church friends. When I heard of a strange video game called "Guitar Heroes" I found myself walking down into the basement...and into a whole new world. Really.

I didn't think I could fall for a cheap video game. But hey, we all have our quirks. I heard tell one of the 30-something guys from church is buying the game for "his 6-year-old." Yeah, right. We are forming a group for the guitar-hero addicted.

So here's the gist: you hold a pretend plastic guitar while watching the screen. It's very much like Dance Dance Revolution if you've ever encountered that. There are colored buttons that you push and then you "strum" a white plastic button. The key is to do this all in rhythm so you can be a guitar hero. You "play" through two dancing rockers on the screen. One of them even had purple tresses. Oh my.

I started slow, since I'm used to piano playing, but not guitar strumming. But once the beat took hold, I started moving a bit. And by the end of the 2nd song, my guitar was pointed upward and I was in a phrase...rocking out. You had to see it to believe it.

http://www.guitarherogame.com/gh2/

A note to all: I don't condone all the music lyrics used on this game. Be selective. And rock on! :)

Time at home

Dad was in the hospital from Thursday till Sunday. Now he's resting at home again, in his comfy tan recliner, glad to be living free from the constraints of being watched and prodded 24/7.

This weekend the cancer doctor told dad he can stop chemo and radiation at any time--these treatments will not help significantly to halt the cancer, and who wants to live with side effects indefinitely?

Dad will have one more chemo to see how it goes. Just two 1/2 weeks until his grandson arrives, so we're all anticipating how wonderful it will be to share this new life as a family.

It's no exaggeration to say that this part of the journey through Dad's cancer will be one of the most difficult. I pray we'll have the strength and wisdom to help him live graciously, with dignity and comfort, in the remaining time we have together.

This weekend, I reflected on the fact that I'm so very glad dad knows Jesus--not just casually, but as a friend, brother, and Savior. I'm so glad I know Jesus, too. It makes the pain somehow bearable, even though the pain is very real.

Stay tuned for a more light-hearted entry on my favorite new video game...guitar heroes. :)

I'll be back soon.

Living through Pain

After awhile, with cancer, it is hard to be cheerful. There are many blessings in our lives, to be sure, but constant, excruciating pain, not only wears on the patient--it wears on all who wish they could relieve it for him.

That said, thank you for your prayers. They are so very important, as the tumors on dad's neck area have grown, causing constant pain. They have doubled up the medication, and so he is more comfortable at present, but so tired he cannot function well.

Mom is tired as well--and we're so very grateful for prayers offered to strengthen, sustain, and comfort her during this time.

I will be heading down to their home on Saturday evening and returning Monday evening. Please pray that I will be able to help and comfort both of them during this time.

Here is a wonderful quote that one of my author's shared, following the tragedy in Virginia this week:

We are not alone, we are more than flesh and bone,
What is seen will pass away, what is not is going home…
I believe in the holy shores of uncreated light,
I believe there is power in the blood.
And all of the death that ever was if you set it next to life
I believe it barely fills a cup –
Cause I believe there’s power in the blood…
When you lay me down to die, you lay me down to live.
-by musician Andrew Peterson

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
-Jesus

Return to Chemo

Thank you for the many prayers you have offered up, for dad, and for our whole family. He was extremely weak this last Easter Sunday, but he read in church, and fought through the pain to stand up, to smile, to show kindness to others.

Today he is feeling quite a bit better. And that is how it goes with cancer. You never know quite what to expect. Some days he experiences less pain, some days he experiences more. And so we take each day that we have been given as a gift. A gift that brings pain, but reminds us of everything we believe in. Reminds us that following Jesus is not about platitudes and empty promises. It is real, eternal hope.

Dad re-enters chemotherapy today, and we're hoping the treatments might lessen the pain of the bone cancer in his spine.

And if you wouldn't mind praying specifically, that he will not get an infection following the chemo that would land him back in the hospital. How very wonderful it would be for him to be able to stay at home.

Thank you for your love, support, and prayers.

Gratefully, Suzie

He died, but three days later...

Quiet, contemplative, and sacred, the Good Friday service held an air of both sorrow and an undercurrent of joy.

Gathered in a small library at a local Covenant church, lights dimmed, scores of candles bright, we remembered his sacrifice. A piano led us through the liturgy. A violin crooned, sometimes mournful, sometimes soft and warm.

I was transported as I closed my eyes, and the pianist reminded us that he was pierced for our transgressions. In fact, we were the ones who persecuted him, we were the ones who brought him to Calvary, and unwittingly nailed him to the tree:

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
Jesus, all of my vile thoughts and deeds stare me in the face on Good Friday...
he was crushed for our iniquities;
My eyes begin to water as I imagine you whipped, tortured, beaten beyond recognition..."no, no!," I want to scream. My sins cannot be causing this disgrace....
The punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
Nails pounding, soldiers spitting, women weeping, "Father forgive them...Into my hands I commit my Spirit." And then you were dead. For us. For me.
and by his wounds we are healed.
Your hands, your feet, your side, your sweet head, your whole body smitten with the wounds that should have been mine. And in that moment, I was eternally healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Oh, the pain Mary must have felt in her chest, a real physical ache, a sorrow beyond all sorrows.

Until three days hence....

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.
Rabbi, our friend, the man who valued us more than any other man, where are you? How can we honor your sacrifice? How can we live with this horrible ache?
There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. 4The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
Oh, Lord, what can this be?
The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."
Risen!?! Oh, how quickly can my sandals carry this good news...how quickly, Mary, can we run?
The women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.
My heart pounds, but I cannot slow down...I cannot keep this joy inside!
Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."
It is so hard to let go of his garment, of his hand. "We love you more than life, Rabbi. But must we go? We would never leave your side. Oh, well, if you insist. Thomas will never believe this...."
Matthew 28

Jesus is Risen! Forever and always. From here to eternity. He's risen in my heart, he's seated in the heavens, he calls my name, he intercedes for me, he waits while he prepares me a place.

He is risen, indeed.

The Joy of Jelly Bellys

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat jelly bellys.

Really.

For starters, everyone has their favorite flavor...tutti frutti, buttered popcorn, pina colada, or jalapeno. What's your pleasure? If you're conservative and predictable, you may opt for the standard flavors like blueberry, or lime, or orange.

If you're a spontaneous daredevil, on the other hand, you might find yourself creating your own on-the-spot recipes: kiwi & orange, strawberry & juicy pear, toasted marshmallow and chocolate. You could even go wild and concoct a licorice-strawberry cheesecake-margarita combo. (Get more "recipes" at jellybelly.com.)

I myself am either well-rounded or indecisive when it comes to jelly belly flavors, depending on how you look at it. I buy the standard mix, and I want to taste EVERY flavor (except cinnamon and licorice).

Sometimes I eat them slowly, sometimes I pop them while reading. But I'm in the habit of eating only one at a time. I want to absorb the bursting flavor and experience it to its fullest. Nancy from my water aerobics class says this makes me self-disciplined. Ha! For crying out loud, I'm eating pure sugar!

That said, jelly bellys for me are a rare indulgence. I bought them this last weekend because I knew my family would share them with me. And by the way, they are the new "reward" of choice for my two-year-old niece who is currently being potty-trained. She's partial to the "pink" ones--relying on color only to make her selection.

Well, enough is enough. I've beat this horse to death, and this might be the last time I ever speak of jelly bellys on my blog. It's time to move on to something more meaningful...like Easter.

That said, if you do happen upon these tasty morsels, I recommend placing them in a glass dish, lounging in a recliner, and slowly sucking up the delicious goodness. OK, I'm done. :)

quote for a Thursday

"We read to know we are not alone."
-CS Lewis

I'll call him Sam

A few years ago, a friend set me up with a guy I'll call "Sam." Sam was extremely good looking, kind, my age, and a book lover to boot!

Seriously, Sam and I could have talked about books for about eight hours, I think. But I knew going into my first date with Sam that there was something big that might keep us from pursuing any kind of dating relationship.

Sam is Catholic.

But I was open-minded, wanting to hear his thoughts on faith and Christian spirituality.

And, doggone it, the very thing I respect most about Sam is the thing that would keep me from continuing to see him: he was a bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool, this-is-my-life devout Catholic. (I pictured Sam's future wife as gorgeous, benevolent, and well, pregnant.)

Sure, he was raised that way, but the impressive thing about Sam was that he had studied his religious tradition for himself. He wasn't "borrowing" on his parents' faith. In the span of two dates, I learned a lot about Sam, and a lot more about Catholicism. Coming from a Baptist background, I was curious about all-things-Catholic.

So, Sam and I sat at the coffee shop, and I learned very quickly that he was opposed to birth control, and he was wholeheartedly pro-life (a bonus), but that for the rest of his life he would practice the dictates of the Catholic church to the best of his ability. He seemed wholly devoted to serving the poor and doing wonderfully good things. So I was a little sad that after our coffee date, and a date to a square dance, Sam and I would part ways.

Oh, well, I thought. We must have been destined to learn from each other. I do believe in my heart of hearts that every conversation, every "blind date" can instruct us on our journeys.

And so, occasionally Sam would call, but eventually we just lost touch.

Fast forward 1 1/2 years...our mutual friend tells me Sam is becoming a priest! He is selling all his possessions, quitting his job, and moving away from family. But the sad part of the story is that Sam says he is doing this because he cannot find a wife. He hopes that the community he might find as a priest, in seminary, might touch this void.

And if Sam goes through this schooling and decides taking the vow is not for him, he can still back out. But he would have to in all ways "start over."

When my friend shared this drastic news, I was tempted to e-mail Sam to tell him not to do it. I really think he is a wonderful man with a zillion good qualities a woman should look for in a husband. But Sam is on his own journey. He's making a choice that seems scary to me, based on his reasoning, but it is his choice.

And I wonder...what might God teach him through this season?

Sam recently mentioned to our mutual friend that I had once said something very profound about love to him that he has never forgotten. I cannot imagine what that might have been.
But Sam told my friend that God meant for the two of us to meet, even though we both realized a dating relationship would be impossible.

When my friend shared this with me, I thought about daily events that whiz by, and how my heavenly Father ordains the people, and circumstances, and chance meetings, and in a way--even the instruction of failed romances. It's the age-old reminder that our lives are being so lovingly woven into a tapestry: we see the "underbelly," ratty, ugly, and seemingly purposeless.

But He sees the colors and hues forming something beautiful, sometimes painful, but always, always something he is working for good. It might not seem so good today, but in the biggest picture, in the larger sense, it is entirely good.

Sam doesn't realize that he's reminded me to put the "dailyness" in my life back into perspective. But if I could see Sam today, I would thank him. And that is how God used a future Catholic priest to show me His love and care for me. Go figure!

Thank you, kindhearted, good-looking, hard-working, devoted Sam.

Quote of the day

"A characteristic of the great saints is their power of levity. Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly. One 'settles down' into a sort of selfish seriousness; but one has to rise to a gay self-forgetfulness."
-GK Chesterton

And finally, home

Yes, I made it from NYC to Denver to Indiana in a one-week period. And now I'm home. (OK, I'm actually at a coffee shop right now that's about a 1/2-mile from home.)

It was good to see the city and the mountains, and yes, my family in the midwest--but it is time to nest for a few nights. To settle back into some sort of routine.

This last weekend, dad reserved all his energy so he could preach on Sunday. I didn't realize he would preach on the "Christian way of dying." He talked about how the apostle Paul's second imprisonment brought the knowledge that he would soon pass from this life to his real, true, eternal home. A place that was "better by far."

I have an author friend who quotes CS Lewis often: "If you feel in your heart there is a longing which nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that you were made for another world."

Dad's voice was weak, but his purpose was strong: he recounted how his doctors have given him a matter of months to live. Yet he reminded the congregation that he is prepared to go to heaven. He seemed quiet, yet authoritative and completely at peace.

For those of you who don't know, dad's pain has increased in his neck and lower spine. New chemo treatments have been ordered, and he's also undergoing daily radiation--measures meant to decrease his pain.

My 6-year-old niece joined me as I visited my parents, and dad gathered her on his lap and, though feeble, he read to her from the first book of The Chronicles of Narnia. I closed my eyes and listened, transported to my childhood days, when dad would read us chapters of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe right before bed. My sister Julie and I would beg for just one more chapter before shutting our eyes for the night. Many times dad obliged.

It wasn't until my adult years when the weight of the story's symbolism hit me with fresh force. In Narnia, Lewis instructed me on the sheer wildness and audacious grace of God. This heavenly Father came to me through the roar of Aslan and through his tender sacrifice on the Stone Table. And the story still speaks....

I titled this entry "And finally, home." I meant my earthly dwelling, of course. It is good to be home. But I'm also referring to my final heavenly home. Dad is approaching our forever tomorrow. It is hard for me to fathom that he is ahead of me on the race. And I long to run up alongside him, and as I imagined myself doing with Aslan, to bury my face in his mane--or in this case, to lay it lovingly on his shoulder.

But there is a letting go I am being called to. It hurts like sheer hell and brings a literal physical ache. Still, there is a part of my spirit that soars with the knowledge of his homegoing. He's sidling up to Jesus, keeping his eyes fixed on what matters, leaving for a far better, pain-free, glorious existence.

Yes, of course, so I am jealous. And my God--the Lord of heaven and earth--wouldn't want it any other way.

This life journey can often feel long, but the end of the rainbow promises much more than gold. Maybe our biggest problem isn't being "so heavenly minded that we're no earthly good." Perhaps if we were more heavenly-minded, if we remembered all that our heavenly Father has so intentionally and lovingly planned for us, we would be of far greater use in the here-and-now. Do you agree?

Loving NYC

Sure, I know rationally that I would not survive in NY. I would tire of the noise and the pace, the crowds and the pressure. And yet, a slice of me wishes to stay here, to live in the energy, to absorb the culture, to discover how to live in such amazing diversity.

I've even got a soft spot for those with strong New York accents, sometimes pushy and forward, but also magnanimous and kind. I met a cute fireman at the Grand Central station subway stop, I dined with a local who was originally from the Phillippines, and I even argued with the very New York hotel manager. (He gave me the rate quoted with a funny "I'm not wrong" but I want your experience with Hampton to be satisfactory.)

The top 5 things I've learned about NY:
1. Many New Yorkers are not good at giving directions! Don't assume they know where to point you. New York street workers got me lost!!
2. Ignore men of any nationality who walk by you on the street and say "hey, babe." They're generally harmless, but you don't want to encourage them. :)
3. Invest in a good bag that has an adjustable strap and wear it diagonally. You'll feel that your possessions are safe even when you get lost in the crowd.
4. Don't feel like you need to do it all. You can't! Pick the top things on your list and enjoy them to the fullest. But make sure you experience some night life. That's when the city comes alive.
5. Open yourself up to meeting and interacting with a variety of people-at restaurants, subway stops, parks, etc. and your trip will be enriched by their cultures and viewpoints. And be sure to schedule time for people-watching!

I'm bone-tired and headed to bed on this Sunday night. On to Denver in the a.m., bright and early.

Picture descriptions: looking at the Brooklyn bridge from the Manhattan Seaport, classmate Dante (charming!), Suzie and her new friend Jenny (Jenny graciously gave me a NY walking tour), dancers and drums at the Times Square subway station, Times Square on a Saturday night

NYC and me

I flew out to NYC at 8 am this morning and am having a marvelous time. The urban culture is fascinating and colorful. So although the temp hovered around 25 degrees today, I was grateful to be out walking, walking, and walking some more. :)

I saw Ground Zero and walked through St. Paul's cathedral...the church that stood standing with not a window shattered when 9/11 exploded on the streets of Manhattan.

It was beautiful and poignant inside with a moving tribute to all the heroes that served the volunteers and those who were hurting emotionally and physically in the 9 months following the accident. There were chiropractors and massage therapists, cooks and counselors, thousands upon thousands who held hands and wrapped up sore feet and offered an ear to the devastated.

When you walk in, it is quiet with candles burning, and you feel a hush as people talk in low tones. It's a sacred place, and visitor after visitor lines up next to a long roll of paper to move a crayon over the sheet, leaving their condolences or blessings on our country and its heroes. Since this was my first visit to Ground Zero (and NY City in general), I felt tears welling up and an incredible sadness as I looked at so many pictures of people who were "missing" after the twin towers were struck--so many of them looked radiant and vivacious, never knowing that an event soon to come would end their lives and change the landscape of our country forever.

I imagined loved ones combing the soot-lined streets after the bombing, begging passerbys to look at their photos, to hope perchance that the missing were just that--missing but safe. Oh, the relief that came when some were found, and the tremendous anger and grief when some were permanently gone from this earth.

It is good to remember, to be grateful for life and the sunshine and your family and your livelihood. To thank God that he is still gracious and kind even when very, very bad things happen.

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The plane ride

I met two new friends today. One of them named Tim sat next to me on the airplane. Tim runs a brewery in Kalamazoo, and he's actually attending the "Extreme Beer" festival here in NYC this weekend. His brewery's chocolate dessert beer will be featured at the end of a long beer-filled meal. :)

He told me the ins and outs of NY, taught me how to navigate the subway, and gave me a plan for visiting the sites I'm interested in. Middle-aged but young at heart, Tim kept whetting my appetite for Little Italy, insisting that I must visit a particular restaurant there. (This was his second choice for my dining pleasure, since he found out I don't really eat barbeque.) Hey, what would you expect from a brewery owner?

Tim, if you ever find my blog, thanks for showing me the ropes before we landed in NY!

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Whole Foods Forever

If you've never visited whole foods, you haven't lived. Everything is natural, and living, and delicious, and I ate a scrumptious vegetarian feast, filling my body with delicious bites of eggplant, and chickpeas, and all sorts of salads that Whole Foods prepares. You can eat Moroccan, or vegetarian, or organic salads, or macaroni and cheese, or beef...you can eat anything at whole foods, except artificial ingredients.

I sat at a high table, and a lawyer took the seat across from me. He was friendly and kind, and he asked me what I do, and was only mildly turned off when I said I work to market Christian books!

He munched on his sushi while standing up, speaking with a strange Chicago/NY accent that he acquired from living in both places, of course. I had to listen intensely to follow him. And as I raved about the beauty and goodness of Whole Foods, he shrugged his shoulders. It's OK, he said. But since he can eat at Whole Foods 365 days a year, it's not really special to him anymore. How very sad, I said.

I can't imagine having so many delicious natural food choices and ever getting bored. But I guess that shows I live in the midwest, where they don't yet believe in Whole Foods in my town. But someday, someday... (written very wistfully)

Enough about my healthy food fetish...

More on NY tomorrow. Enjoy the pics. And, as always, feel free to post to say hello.

As The Days Whirl

Well, I hate it when people sit around talking about how "busy" they are. "There just aren't enough hours in the day..." "So many demands, so much pressure..." "I wish I could step off the merryground."

Cliches, all. And sadly, I use them sometimes. Like this week. With 3 1/2 hour meetings, and ads that need to be rewritten, and radio specials that need to be approved, and so little time to enjoy what you're doing...just enough time to get it done.

But I am still smiling...and although I've been a bit short with some people this week, I am working to discover how to enjoy even the days that are overwhelming and non-productive. If you have any secrets for me regarding this, do tell.

I'm taking a whirlwind trip through New York City and on to Denver, starting Friday. I expect to be moved by my first trip to Ground Zero, to enjoy the bustle of the city, and the new discoveries to be had at the marketing seminar I'm attending.

Then on to my annual trek to Denver for a meeting with a publishing partner. I remind myself that I do enjoy traveling, even though it can be riddled with possible inconveniences. Like the trip to Denver last year, where I lost my luggage for 3 days and learned to survive on little makeup and a few new outfits of clothes. Hey, every experience stretches us! It's amazing what you can live without...

But enough of that. Y'all come back and watch for my blog postings and pics from the Big Apple. Catch ya later!

Quote for the day

"Creativity is a way of living life, no matter what our vocation, or how we earn a living."
-from Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle

New Treatments Begin

After some searing pain that's been piercing dad's lower back the last few days, doctors have decided to resume radiation treatments. Dad will be going to the center for treatment each day after mom gets off work, with 10-12 treatments in all.

We pray that these treatments will a) manage the pain and b) not produce yucky side effects.

My plans are to head to my parents' home this weekend, if the weather cooperates. Thanks to all who have said that you check back regularly, and intercede on dad's behalf regularly, too.

I consider all of you part of "my family." You are holding me up during a very difficult time, and trust me, it makes all the difference.

Wherever You Are...

“If there were any place better for you than the one in which you find yourself, Divine Love would have placed you there.”
-Charles Spurgeon

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches each of us, wherever we are, whatever our joy or pain.

Today I remind myself that Jesus loves each of us, the sickly and hurting, the virile and energetic, but most of all, the least of these. And he does know our address--he knows what's happening with us at this moment, and what will happen in the next minute and hour, and what life will hold tomorrow.

Dad's pain took a sharp turn yesterday around 4 pm, slicing through his lower spine. No amount of pain medication could touch it. Today the Dr. ordered a scan and an additional treatment of radiation, hoping to eradicate some of the pain. Some more hefty pain medication may help, and we pray for comfort and peace.

We pray for grace to accept each moment as it comes, to keep living in the light of our Savior's love. A passion so recklessly poured out on us, redeeming the pain and sorrow and helplessness. Divine love has placed dad here, in this situation at this moment in time.

And so it is with you, in your particular situation, with your particular needs and desires, in selfishness and holiness--his passion is unending and full of mercy. You, friend, are loved beyond understanding. Our Abba-Father is never stingy, never late, never half-hearted, never lukewarm. And his love is far from ordinary.

Watch for it today by sustaining attention on things that normally pass you by. And you will see it with eyes that seek it and ears that are ready to hear.

Blessings...

Suzie

Conversation to Treasure

Hello all:

Dad's hearing, with the help of some heavy-duty hearing aids, is quite good considering! I sat on the couch next to his recliner for much of the weekend, and we watched movies and talked about anything that came to mind.

Even as we celebrate this *wonderful* little miracle, Dad's bone cancer grows more painful. We tried everything--heating pad, 8-hour tylenol, his prescribed pain medication...but there was little relief.

We wish so much that we could ease his aches and pains. If only we could wave a magic wand and give him even a few hours of relief. And yet, each progression of the cancer reminds us that Dad's body is only temporarily in pain. How amazing to think that his body--including his cancer and poor hearing--will be miraculously healed in heaven.

It is hard to grasp, hard to understand. And yet we believe this wholeheartedly. It is why dad sometimes smiles through the pain. It is the hope that shouts that life will be more abundant and carefree in the days to come. Our future beckons to us, as we watch Dad walking the journey toward his heavenly home.

We're so thankful to know that we will join him there. A friend of mine, and the author of 90 Minutes in Heaven, has a saying he shares with all who lose a loved one to heaven. "I'm so sorry for your temporary separation."

Temporary, fleeting, and painful, yes. But as so many of us know, some of the deepest pain or sorrow brings us to a place of overwhelming joy. Grieving may remain for the night; joy comes in the morning.

Grace upon Grace

Grace upon grace, mercy upon mercy . . .

Dad’s hearing loss had made it impossible for him to converse or even hear the television, no matter how loud it got. We were told that the damage was permanent, and that we should not expect much if any improvement. It’s been very isolating for dad. And so it is with great joy that I share the news that two new hearing aids have restored partial hearing. I even talked with him on the phone this weekend! He sounds so upbeat and positive.

He will receive his 5th chemo treatment this Wednesday, with a final chemo treatment to follow 3 weeks later. As we were told, all of these treatments have been done to give “quality of life.” Although we are sad that we will no longer be actively fighting the cancer, we know that God holds Dad’s days in his hands—and we are thankful that he will have the opportunity to function without side effects from the treatments.

Thank you for your thoughtful prayers, kindnesses, and e-mails. I’ll be traveling to my parents' home this weekend to help mom with the “post-chemo” days that can sometimes be difficult.

One Little Book, One Big Magazine Article

I stand amazed at what God can do through one little book that could...

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16950932/site/newsweek/from/ET/

Having worked with the author for about a year and a half now, it's humbling to see his story being used in the lives of people with drastically different beliefs--to be read by those who read books just because they make it on the New York Times bestseller list...

Yeah, God!

The Buzz from Beaners

Yes, I am posted near the fireplace at my local Beaners, typing away on my laptop. It's a bleak midwinter outdoors, but warm and cozy here.

I very nearly blushed to high heavens, after I muttered away out loud at the photo editor on my computer, not realizing that a man had slipped in at a nearby table. Oh, well, those who don't know the therapeutic value of yelling at their digital accessories, don't know the beauty of an expressive personality. :)

OK, here are some shameless pictures of my gorgeous nieces. You like?

Cassie fetches a smile for the camera
Aunt Suzie and Brianna decorate cookies
Emmie enjoys her first birthday cake

Life Marches On

It is snowy here, with sub-zero temperatures and a bitter wind. Winter humbles us in the Midwest, because we cannot control its fury. Our plans are constantly changing due to its Arctic blasts, and we must be flexible.

A foot of snow this weekend, the skill of driving on sheer ice, the stomach dropping out as we spin and whirl.

We look to find the beauty in the sheer whiteness of it all, to be thankful for heat and warm soup and thick afghans.

It is beautiful and wonderful. But it is cold. And we scan ahead from memory, recalling that indeed spring and summer do come in this region. But it's hard to imagine the birds and the bees, the sun and the rain, when you don't need a coat and the outdoors is friendly and mild.

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This Arctic season will keep me from visiting mom and dad this weekend, which brings a certain wistfulness and a bit of sadness.

Dad has mostly lost his hearing now, but I'm told he can hear us when we get very close to him. He's adjusting to closed-captioning on television, and the news that the Dr. will order no more radiation for him. After two more chemo treatments, he will be done with these medical gymnastics, at least as far as doctors can predict.

Ironically, to the cancer patient, stopping these treatments, although it is somewhat of a relief, feels like surrender at times.

Please pray for God to minister to his spirit, to whisper his love in the mundaneness of the routine, to bring hope and purpose to his heart.

Thank you for walking this journey with us. I can't form the words to let you know how much your prayers mean.

Embracing The Beautiful Ache

I met a new friend several months ago as I got to know author Leigh McLeroy. As she and I both traverse the journey of having a loved one with cancer, we share our hearts--and her new book brings healing and keen insight into all of our lives. Hope you'll check out the web site at www.thebeautifulache.com. There's a wonderful video there that will encourage you on your journey.

New Book Illuminates the Beautiful Ache of Living Between Heaven and Earth

Humans seem to be born with a spiritual hunger for something they can’t quite name. Writer Leigh McLeroy calls it “the beautiful ache,” a fleeting pang that says, “there’s something more than this life.” Her new book describes a “wide-awake living” that embraces that yearning, yet is immersed in the here and now, with all its beauty and pleasure, messiness and pain.

Find out more about the March 1 release The Beautiful Ache by visiting www.thebeautifulache.com. Exquisite writing that encourages you to savor deeply the beauty you find on earth, even when it hurts. You'll find beautiful inspiration that helps you find a taste of heaven on earth.

This good news just in

The snowy frozen tundra precluded a visit to see dad this last weekend...but on a very positive note, he spoke in both Sunday School and church. I'm so very proud of his tenacity.

And in *extremely good news*, the book 90 Minutes in Heaven, a title I've been marketing for the last year and half, is #7 on the NY Times bestseller non-fiction paperback list!

90 MINUTES IN HEAVEN, by Don Piper with Cecil Murphey. (Revell, $12.99.) A Baptist minister describes the otherworldly experience he had after a car accident. Check out the video at www.90minutesinheaven.com.

I'm currently working on a 90 Minutes special for Christian radio that will be released for the pre-Easter season. It's humbling and exciting to think that thousands of people are being reached each day with this life-changing story. Haven't read it? I highly recommend it. Even if you check it out from the library...but better yet, buy a copy, then pass it on when you are done. :)

The Good News

How nice to have good news--dad's doctor discovered that he doesn't have any cancer in his liver, and that the other cancer has not spread further.

I'll be celebrating with him this weekend, as I face the snowy Michigan tundra to make my way down to Indiana. :)

Happy Wednesday to you...

Dad Returns Home

Thank you again for your prayers for my father. His thinking seems to be clearing, and he is resting at home now. My mom’s update below that was sent this last weekend.

Hello again!

Thank you for your prayers for us this week. Dick came home from the hospital this afternoon. The confusion was probably caused from dehydration and possibly the chemo. He also had an infection he got from taking antibiotics for infection--so he has a new antibiotic. Medicine is interesting--and frustrating.

The doctor says no going to church tomorrow--just rest. He begins physical therapy at home next week. They want to do a "walking EEG" on his brain (he wears a brain monitor for a few days ) but none are available until the 22nd.

His hearing loss is even worse than before so if I happen to be talking to you and enunciating my words slowly and clearly--sorry! I continue to work as much as possible. I can't thank the church enough for all they have done for me!!!!

I guess our prayer request would be just to keep Dick from infection and to help us evaluate the chemotherapy procedure.

Dick spent a lot of time on the computer reading your e-mail and was encouraged by it. God has proven His faithfulness and we can't thank Him and you enough!!!!

I pray you will be blessed as you have blessed us.

Anita

Dealing with the Grief

Dad is back in the hospital and is quite disoriented. They believe his confusion is stemming from some kind of infection. To be honest, it sounds like they really have no idea what is going on. Only God does, really.

One of my authors sent me the beautiful passage below from Bill Hendricks' book The Light That Never Dies. He lost his wife to breast cancer six years ago:

God does not want us to deny pain. God gives us permission to feel the pain – right in the middle of Romans 8. For sure, we must never lose sight of those grand and glorious mountains on either end of that passage. The one declares that nothing can condemn us if we are in Christ. The other insists that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. But nestled in between those magnificent peaks is a steep valley. And in that valley is a glacier, very deep, very heavy, and very dark. Indeed, like most substantial glaciers, the ice is so dense and solid that it has turned dark blue. And, like most substantial glaciers, it has gouged a significant scar on the terrain…

The pain we feel is legitimate, and to be expected. Indeed, if someone doesn’t groan when accosted by the fallenness of this world, we need to be concerned about their health and the condition of their humanity. Irrational? You bet. Seemingly out of control? Perhaps. But during the last ten years, I have learned that it is occasionally necessary to go a little bit crazy so as not to go completely insane. Romans 8 reassures me that God doesn’t seem to mind if I go a little bit crazy when tossed about like a rag doll by the futility of this fallen world.

Hello again

Yes, I've wanted to post...lots of holiday pictures and New Year's goals and sweet family moments, etc. But time has run away from me.

There will be a year-in-review to come, when I have time to sit in the coffee shop and leisurely pound away on my ibook. I anticipate it with a certain wistfulness. I can even imagine the feel of a steaming latte with whipped cream on top--and the smell, for that matter. Casually chatting with the barista, sitting among strangers, alone with my thoughts and dreams for the future.

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A bit of an update...

Dad looks great these days, although he can barely hear anything. For some reason, his poor hearing has grown dramatically worse. So sometimes, like this weekend, we just sit silently in the same room, sharing each other's company.

When we want to talk, I pull up a chair and make sure dad can read my lips. He now sports a bristly white goatee, and he's smiling almost always. He seems at peace, comfortable with where he's at, sure of where he's headed.

He always wants to know about my work, what new things am I digging into, what books am I particularly excited about. It's a comfort to be near him.

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President Ford passed away recently, and some people I know went to see his casket, to pay their respects.

As the coverage continued to splash across my TV screen, I remembered something from my childhood. President Ford had passed through our town on a train, and we pulled our car over, and got out to see him. He was waving from the caboose. And it was all very exciting.

Just this last week I found out I would have been only 2 years old at that time. It's hard to believe I can remember it, and it makes you wonder what causes an event to stick in our minds--to be "memorable," and how does the accumulation of all those memories, conscious and unconscious, influence who we are today.

Enough introspection... :) Enjoy your day. Make new memories. Embrace the good ones you've already been given.

Talk to you soon.

A New Year to Come...

"Hope smiles on the THRESHOLD of the year to come, whispering that it will be happier."
-Alfred Lord Tennyson

A recap of 2006 to come soon. May your heart swell with expectation on the future God is already preparing for you, for all of us.

More soon...

Home for Christmas

This just in: dad is being released from the hospital today, as his temperature has finally dropped. He should be home for Christmas, and we are most grateful.

Definitely cause for celebration....

Smiles!

Still fighting...

Dad has a temperature of 100 today, although it went down to 96 last night. They will not let him go home until at least tomorrow. But he is doing OK, and he is not pestering the nurses about sending him home right away. :) He seems to have developed some patience through his ordeal!

Blessings...

Home for Christmas?

Hello all:

Dad has been back in the hospital the last few days with a fever that doesn't want to go down. It topped out at 102 degrees today. All tests have come back negative, and everyone's puzzled as to why dad continues to get these infections.

I'm praying specifically that all will clear soon and that dad will be home for both Christmas Eve and Christmas day. It would be so wonderful to spend this time together as a family...

"I have always thought of Christmas as a good time; a kind, forgiving, generous, pleasant time; a time when men and women seem to open their hearts freely, and so I say, God bless Christmas!" - Charles Dickens

Cancer Marches In

(original poetry from Suzie)

Cancer marches in,
Unbidden,
Insidious,
Unwelcome,
Hidden.

It saps your strength
And leads to visits
With doctors who
Have seen too much
Of its destructive power.

It announces its intentions
With radiation
And chemotherapy
Steroids
And surgery.

And sometimes the cure
Seems worse than the disease.

Although usually unnoticed
Cancer also brings rare gifts.

Time suddenly has value
Though it may be filled with quiet
The gift of presence
Has new meaning

Your loved ones grow more precious

As your body fights and thrashes
Against a growing invader
The spirit may grow stronger
More gracious, resilient, grateful

And small pleasures delight you
And warm arms enfold you
Strangers offer comfort
Long-lost friends appear

The best of times
The worst of times

And you summon your energy
To fight
To do the smallest task
To finish well

However long it lasts

Some may say you’re dying
But the truth is
Aren’t we all

Instead, you are living
Right here in the now

For life is a gift you’re given
Regardless of the pain
It foreshadows a greater reality
It reminds you
Of the ache

To see your Creator
To know as you are known
To clear your clouded eyesight
As you step toward heaven’s throne

So embrace today & tomorrow
With eternity in your heart
Hold things lightly
Hold loved ones dear

Be in this moment
Let your maker know your heart

And you will find solace
Peace that passes understanding
Joy in the morning
Grieving turned to laughter

Until you are whole

Home Sweet Home

Dad was released from the hospital last night and is resting comfortably at home.

A quote I've thought on today:
"One of the secrest of a happy life is continuous small treats."
-Iris Murdoch

When I remember to thank God for things both great and small, my heart expands. I am more at peace, I strive less, I appreciate the things I have more.

Some of the simple things for which I'm grateful:
-the aroma of a sweet almond candle
-the feel of soft yarn as I knit a fluffy scarf
-any kind of dark chocolate
-the daily comfort of God's Words to me in Scripture
-hugs from those who care
-genuine smiles from strangers
-the unfettered laughter of a child
-the exercise of body and mind
-the feel of sleeping in on a rainy, cold day...

...and so much more. I pray you find joy in life's blessings today.

Recovery

Dad's white blood cell count went down to 44 yesterday (after the initial high count of 60). He's still in the hospital, and we're still praying that he'll leave soon, so he can enjoy all the comforts of home.

Peace,
Suzie

Bummer...

"Bummer" is the word one of my coworkers used when I first heard of the severity of dad's cancer. There are times when it seems to sum up my feelings perfectly.

Dad was diagnosed with pneumonia in his right lung this evening. It's hard to see him have to fight so hard for his health. Mercifully, he still has his own hospital room, which allows him a bit of peace in between blood draws from the nurses.

I drove down to Indiana today and will come home tomorrow afternoon.

Another dear friend Martie is in the hospital today as well...her precious baby boy was delivered safely at 10 this morning! A reminder that God is still watching over each life, each day that he has given us.

Until next week...

Dad's Recovery

Dad has now been transferred to a regular room. In fact, he has the room all to himself, which gives him extra rest and peace and quiet.

No word on the white blood cell count yet--although the steroids may cause the elevated count.

He's somewhat uncomfortable from lying on his back, but we're hoping they get him up and about this morning. The doctor also said the 17 stitches in his head will remain there for quite some time.

It looks like I'll be staying home in Michigan this weekend. It's been a terribly crazy week, and I need to get some rest.

That's the update. I leave you with this prayer from St. Francis:

Christ be beside me, Christ be before me, Christ be behind me, King of my heart. Christ be within me, Christ be below me, Christ be above me, never to part.

Christ on my right hand, Christ on my left hand, Christ all around me, shield in the strife. Christ in my sleeping, Christ in my sitting, Christ in my rising, light of my life.

Christ be in all hearts thinking about me, Christ be in all tongues telling of me, Christ be the vision in eyes that see me, In ears that hear me, Christ ever be.

Update...

Although he's feeling OK, Dad's white blood cell count is elevated today, and they are running some tests.

Thanks for interceding on his behalf.

Post-Surgery Report

Dad entered surgery at 1 pm CT yesterday. It took only about an hour and a half, and the neurosurgeon says he came through swimmingly.

Unfortunately, although they told us we would see dad within the hour, it took 6 hours for us to see him. They had no beds in their ICU unit for the longest time, and they refused to let us see him in recovery. He was asking for us, but he was still able to rest during this time.

The mass was completely cut out of his brain--and upon further examination, it was already dead tissue, the cancer cells killed from his radiation treatments. The Dr. feels very confident they removed all of the brain cancer.

Within 3-5 days, he should be home from the hospital and adjusting to his "new normal" once again. Nothing has changed significantly, although he seems to have growing pain from his bone cancer. I'm thankful that they seem to be managing the pain well with prescription painkillers.

He is pleasant and at peace. He actually asked the neurosurgeon if he could pray with him before the brain surgery. :)

Hugs to all of you who continue to lift dad and the whole family up in prayer. Cancer seems to "take and take" a lot of things--but it cannot take our hope and excitement for our eventual heavenly home. Dad said yesterday that "maybe he would just go to heaven." We're so glad he hasn't made the trip yet. But our hearts are assured that when he does leave us, all his pain will vanish, and we will see him again--healthy, vibrant, and whole.

I'm headed back to Michigan this morning...

Traveling Mercies

Please pray for traveling mercies for me this afternoon, as I will leave work at 4:30 to head down to Indiana. Due to snowy conditions, I will likely take an alternate route to avoid the lake effect.

Dad's brain surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 1 pm CT. So many of you are praying, and I feel your support.

We are comforted by God's unseen presence, as he feels so very near right now. May you experience the same peace and assurance today.

I will update you as soon as I hear the outcome of the surgery. Peace to you...

A bright spot (if you like green)

Amidst the turmoil of the last few months, a small miracle has occurred. I have been published in the bestselling Zondervan Women's Devotional Bible. The Bible, formerly known as "the pink Bible" has been transformed with a funky new green cover.

Not to worry, I didn't alter the text of God's Word--just contributed a few devotionals! :) And yes, it is still published in the NIV. I especially like what they've done with some "30-day" Bible readings on different topics in the back.

See for yourself at a store near you. (This time, you'll actually find my bio in the back. Scary!)

Surgery Ahead...

Today Dad enters his second chemo treatment. We're praying that this time he will not contract pneumonia or any other bug that's floating around.

Also, the neurosurgeon has scheduled his brain surgery for next Tuesday, December 5. At that time, they will perform regular surgery (not with a laser as previously indicated) and will remove the 1/2-inch mass that is there. The Dr. feels confident that it will be easy to get to and that the surgery poses little risk.

I'll probably be heading down to my parents Monday night after work, so I can be up in the hospital with mom and dad during the surgery.

Thank you for your continuous prayers. They are a boon to my spirit.

"May the God of hope bring you such joy & peace in your faith that the power of the Holy Spirit will remove all bounds to hope."
Romans 15:13

Thanksgiving (& Praise)

We're enjoying a bit of a reprieve, as dad is feeling somewhat better and has now figured out a way to get himself out of his chair by putting his weight on another chair in front of him.

How thankful we are to see him a bit more comfortable and mobile. He uses a cane always and relies on prescription painkillers that help him deal with the shooting pains in his hip and pelvic area (caused from bone cancer).

This weekend, we had a visit that caught us by surprise from dad's family. His half brother and his wife, his brother and his wife, and his stepsister and her husband took the 5 hour trip down to my parents' home to see dad. We do not see them very often, so we were touched by their thoughtfulness and the affection and care they are showing. Although my step grandmother (now in her eighties) was unable to come, she sent money and fruitcake, along with other goodies. Dad feels well-loved all around.

Prayer concerns: dad receives his second chemo treatment Wednesday, November 29, and will likely have brain surgery the week after. Please pray that he will be able to maintain his strength and that he'll continue to feel the deep peace that he has been experiencing.

Also, I would greatly appreciate your prayers on behalf of the rest of the family. It is a trying time, and it is easy to take each for granted and to take our frustration or weariness out on each other. Pray that we would love each other well and draw closer during this time.

Finally, please don't take your loved ones for granted. Love them well now, and tell them so. Don't let life get so busy that you cannot make time for these important moments. Live fully; breathe deeply. King Solomon said in Ecclesiastes "However many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all."

Dad swells with pride and appreciation for everything we do for him. A few weeks ago I bought him a small ceramic heart that simply says "Life is better because you are my dad." That sums it up. Cancer is teaching all of us how to love well.

With much gratitude for your support, notes, and prayers...

Suzie

A touch of comic relief

Worst quote Suzie's ever heard on a date:
"I deserve to be remarried because God wants me to be happy...and he says to be fruitful and multiply." :)

My two-year-old niece's comment after seeing a large Santa decoration:
"Jesus!" Hmmm...Father Christmas, the Father of all living things...looks like she needs a bit more Sunday School.

Visiting Dad

This weekend I made another trek down here to Indiana to visit with my parents. Dad now stays on the ground floor, usually in his comfy recliner. Once a day in the morning he makes his way up the steps to take a shower upstairs. (The scary part is when he comes down...)

Gratefully, dad regained a bit of energy this weekend, after being extremely weak from the pneumonia and therapies. He now has the energy to watch television or sometimes read in between resting. (I've brought him an entire season of MacGyver on DVD, so that should keep him busy for a bit.)

This morning, he actually went to his church and sat in the second row. People there were so thrilled to see him, and they all signed up to help mom out for a few hours here and there so she can get a break.

Continued prayers are appreciated, as he has not fully recovered from the pneumonia and is constantly wheezing. Mom needs prayer for sleep at night and stamina as his primary caregiver. She is such a trooper. (This Monday through Wednesday alone, she'll accompany dad to 5 doctor appointments.)

As Thanksgiving week begins, I am thankful for small joys: the pleasure of holding Dad's hand as I walked him a few hundred feet home from their church. I'm so thankful he's my father; so thankful for every moment we can treasure. So thankful for good memories.

Hugs to you,
Suzie

We Need Your Prayers

In a short time of about 6 weeks, Dad has been diagnosed with cancer throughout his body. Today, he is having even more difficulty getting up and down. It now takes two people to assist him.

This morning a visiting nurse came in to check on him.

My parents will have to make some very difficult decisions in the next few weeks...the house in Indiana where they currently live does not have bathing facilities on the main floor. And it does not appear that my mom will be able to take care of him alone.

Please pray for a)wisdom b)provision and c)a deep and abiding peace for mom and dad.

Psalm 146: 13b
"The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made."

We Need Your Prayers

In a short time of about 6 weeks, Dad has been diagnosed with cancer throughout his body. Today, he is having even more difficulty getting up and down. It now takes two people to assist him.

This morning a visiting nurse came in to check on him.

My parents will have to make some very difficult decisions in the next few weeks...the house in Indiana where they currently live does not have bathing facilities on the main floor. And it does not appear that my mom will be able to take care of him alone.

Please pray for a)wisdom b)provision and c)a deep and abiding peace for mom and dad.

Psalm 146: 13b
"The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made."

Dad Comes Home

Dad returned home from the hospital late yesterday afternoon. He is still quite wobbly, and he has significant swelling in his feet and ankles.

He now has a walker and will likely be getting a wheelchair sometime today. In addition, a therapist is advising them on how to rearrange their home so dad does not have to go up the stairs. If he falls, he is in great danger of breaking some bones due to the steroids he is on.

Please pray for grace for my dad to accept these huge changes. My mom also asked for prayer last night that she would not be afraid. She so hates to see dad this way and she's afraid he will fall.

Thank you for lifting her up. She is a dear servant of God, trying to make the best of this trying time.

Also, prayers for me are appreciated as I will be going there again this weekend, and then for an extended Thanksgiving weekend as well.

May God bring all of us into a spacious place. (Psalm 18:19)

Dad Goes to the Hospital

Dad grew very weak on Friday and Saturday (following a chemo treatment on Wednesday). It became very difficult for him to get up and down or to get around at all.

Saturday evening he said he thought he had a fever, and we discovered it was 101 degrees. We took him to the ER, and after a chest X-ray, we were told he has pneumonia. He is now in the Oncology unit and is receiving intravenous antibiotics. In addition, he has pain now in his hip bone and his elbow bone and is being treated with painkillers.

The doctors expect him to be in the hospital for 3 or 4 days. Please pray for my mom especially as they will now have to arrange their house for him to stay on the main level. Changes are happening more quickly than we expected, but still, dad’s spirits are strong, and we know God’s presence is with him.

Although there doesn’t seem to be much we can do, the prayers of many are bringing peace to us. Dad’s also a very affectionate guy, and he is being showered with hugs and kisses from his family. Although it’s hard to see him like this, we cherish all the times we have with him.

Chemotherapy #1 Completed

Dad completed his first 3 1/2 hour chemotherapy treatment yesterday. He must not have felt too bad, because he ate a sandwich right afterwards.

The Dr. confirmed earlier prognosis that the cancer is throughout his body and that his time is limited. How limited no one can say for sure.

I will go down to Indiana to spend some time with my parents this Friday and Saturday. Thank you to all for the many prayers that are covering my parents and I. We are in need of your intercession, and we feel so very supported through it. Thank you for walking this new journey with us.

Dad Begins Chemotherapy

Turns out dad got the "chemo talk" yesterday and anti-nausea meds, but he won't start chemo till Wednesday. It will be a three-hour session.

He is swollen from the steroids, but now he will only have to take them once or twice every three weeks, right before his chemo treatment.

Dad's a real trooper, and not complaining, even though he's weak. He and mom are in good spirits.

Peace to you...

Dying and Living - an update on Suzie's Dad

About 4 weeks or so ago, dad collapsed one morning at 6:15 am. He was playing Solitaire on the computer, his usual way to pass any sleepless hours, but he doesn't even remember logging on the computer that morning. I'm glad he doesn't remember.

Dad collapsed with a thud and mom found him seconds later. He was unconscious until waking in the ambulance. My heart soared when I heard he woke up--when I knew that God was giving me another chance to see him and to tell him how much I love him, how much his influence has meant to me.

What we thought was a stroke turned into a cancer diagnosis within days. He now has cancer in his lungs, his brain, his ribs, his spine, and one of his hips. Remarkably, he is free from pain. He has now completed 15 treatments or radiation, and he will start chemo on Monday. An MRI this Thursday will determine how effect the radiation has been in treating his brain cancer. Then we will find out when he will have laser brain surgery. The days are filled with doctors, and the steroids have made him quite weak.

It is difficult for him to get in and out of the car, and his muscles show signs of weakning from the steroids. Mercifully, he will be done taking the steroid pills tomorrow.

His hair (what he had of it) is halfway gone, and his stomach is sometimes upset from his medication. But his spirit is strong and resilient. Last night he told me he is going to live the rest of his life with intentionality. He's always been a gentle person, but he is more bold about his faith. He talks openly about preparing things for mom and us after he's gone.

Someone told me recently that experiences like this make you very weak and very strong. I know exactly what they mean now. I have passed the point of tears, but there is a knowledge that has settled in. Dad may not be there for so many moments in the future where I would like him to be...but he is here now.

We are all dying, all of us...but we are all also living. Dad is living well, and I want to do whatever I can to encourage him to continue on this way. Literally, thousands of people are praying for my dear dad and our family, and I feel this huge support, almost as if I am being held up, as if people are accompanying me on this journey. I know I am not alone.

Thank you, too, for your prayers and support. Each e-mail brings a boost to my spirit, each card or visit or walk helps me stay buoyant. I am doing well, and my heavenly Father is faithful to meet my needs and to meet dad's needs.

I will post often, so feel free to check back anytime. Blessings to you.

sunshine, sand, and sky

Lawn chairs sunk down into the sand along the Lake Michigan beach. The Gary, Indiana, shoreline was covered with onlookers as the waves roared and the sunshine warmed our faces. Just the right temperature--in the air and in my heart.

My parents and I were attending an air show with aerial stunts that defied imagination. I was transfixed, captivated, and content. It may have seemed a small pleasure to some of those plopped around me, a beer in one hand, a cell phone in another. But to me it brought extreme pleasure.

There is so much joy to be had in the calm after the storm.

An update

It was one of those workweeks where everything piles up, and a multitude of projects and meetings and deadlines loom, and Suzie starts snapping at innocent people who interrupt.

And so it was that with knotted shoulders and bags hastily packed, I jumped in my Mercury Mystique and hit the cruise control with the throng down the highway, on my way to Portage, Indiana.

My parents house offers respite and comfort, but this time I was slightly unnerved, remembering...

Remembering just three months ago, when my visit found me writhing in mental and emotional pain. It was as if my fight with depression officially ended there--I could no longer summon the energy to pretend it was not winning. I collapsed.

I remember lying in the bed I am sleeping in this weekend and feeling powerless to get up. My attempts to rally positive thoughts were furtive and almost daily calls to the Dr. were necessary to find the right medication, to give me a dosage that would ensure sleep, to make sure I would not do something foolish.

American Poet Jane Kenyon struggled with bipolar disorder and grave depressions that lasted for months on end. She talks of cutting herself completely off from society and not being able to call a plumber for repairs. Not being able to do the simplest things. And that's how those five weeks were for me. Just getting dressed was an accomplishment.

The interlude seems both distant and not-so-far behind me now. I am careful, but not afraid with my health. I am optimistic and sometimes energetic. I struggle, but I am regaining my strength.

The difference is this: when the darkness came on before, I would berate myself and blame myself for my illness. Although this is one of the most counterproductive things a depressed person can do, most of us are bonafide perfectionists: we simply don't know another way.

My Turning Point

Several years ago, I was reintroduced to the concept of who God is. I prayed a pray when I was a child, inviting Jesus to save me from my sins, so I thought I knew God. And I did--but not really. I didn't realize that this person, my heavenly Father, was not out to get me. I knew much of his holiness and too little of his love. I felt I never did win his approval, though I tried very hard.

Until I stopped trying, and the real heavenly Father showed up. It was at this point that I finally accepted the grace he offers me. I am still learning to do this today. Because, truth be told, he does accept me. Yes, he's even wild about me! Nothing I can do will change this. I can follow this amazing God because I love him. Not to prove anything.

And so, this time, when the torrent of emotions wracked my body, mind and soul, I offered myself grace. There were days when Jesus watched as I lay there in bed, seeking to comfort me. And I knew for sure he expected nothing more out of me that day. I had nothing to give.

There were days when I was able to get up and shower and go for a walk, and he smiled at my efforts. Even though they seemed meager from the outside looking in.

And there were times when I was able to summon the energy to drive to a nearby nursing home to visit someone recovering from surgery and just sit there, or read a funny story, or listen to her heart. And I felt he knew what it took for me to get there and he was pleased.

At times, I had overwhelming, negative thoughts, asking myself why God was allowing my depression. At times I just rested and waited for it to pass. At times I was so anxious I wanted to be through, even though I would not end my life.

And he knew. And he watched. And he moved. I am on my way to a place where these memories will become more removed--but not the memory of embracing his grace. This will stay put. His mercies are new every morning.

I smile as I type this because I could not live without them--and neither could you.

My Slow Ascent

Depression lurks in my closet, and those who know me well, know that usually it stays put there.

That for the most part, I am a content, loving woman who looks for the best in herself, in others, and in her God. I've never met anyone who guesses that I have had a struggle with depression--I have met others who have told me it isn't possible that I have ever experienced it based on their impression of who I am.

But occasionally, partially due to my personality, and partially due to undeniable genetics, the closet begins to bulge. Over the years my coping skills have grown, too, and so I suppose I thought that any bulge would recede--that life issues would right themselves if I responded properly. And I felt I was responding well.

Mid-may I cried one day and thought that perhaps I couldn't stop. And I wasn't sleeping much at all, so I went to see my Dr. and asked him to help me sleep, and he tried, but even though it looked like I would pull through, the emotional torrent came crashing through the closet and I was caught away, whirling, back into a cycle that leaves me unable to cope, unable to function at work or at life.

And so a forced visit to my parents' house brought me to my knees. And new medications made me experience a pain I have never quite seen, not to mention the severity of the side effects. Within another week, the Dr. went back to an old medication. It had made my hair fall out in the past, can cause weight gain and liver toxicity, but it would work if it had worked before.

It is working. Without the intimate details, I am back at work, despite the fact that my body is nowhere near back to "normal," but it will be. It will come back. Things will be joyful again. And I will emerge praying to God that the closet will be bolted. That there will be no more bulging.

You can see, friends, that it is a slow ascent. But indeed, I've been ascending. And when occasionally I've slipped backward for a day or two, before ascending again, I claim Psalm 138:3
The moment I called out, you stepped in; you made me bold and stouthearted.

I cannot explain to you how much stronger I am on the inside as the result of these times; and so I cry out that I want to be more stouthearted--to be able to withstand trial and to extend a loving, helping hand to others who need to walk through their own.

There is something real happening inside this time; a surrendering to the knowing that if I acknowledge this struggle I can be used in the future to help other weary souls. For years, I dreamed up a million other ways God could use me. A friend recently asked me why I get up in the morning.

I thought it was a big question for me right now, but it's not, really. To find that thing that God has for me to do, and to do it. I don't know what this looks like, and I don't need to know today. But I'm finally tired of fighting what he might have, what he might be planning if I would just be available to do things I have not had the heart for up till now.

It is an open struggle now, and it is one that I no longer feel the need to hide. I hope others may come out of hiding as a result.

Depression really can't lurk when we bring it out of the closet, when we name it, find healing, and bravely continue on our journey, moving beyond it.

Thanks to the many who have been faithful in prayer, cards, etc. Much love from me! And hopefully brighter news soon.

Love,
Suzie