Walla Walla, WA October 30,2010 Misty, cloudy morning 48 degrees.
Cancer is a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, sudden changes of direction and relief at the end of the ride. I'm far from the end of this ride, but we got some highlight news this week that is encouraging. The results of my PET scan of 10/21/2010 were very good. All previous tumor sites have been reduced to being described as clear. Lungs and major organs appear cancer free and the bottom line is my cancer is in a state of remission. That was and is the goal of the SCCA transplant team. They want me to return to Seattle without any active tumor sites so that all of my energy and their treatments can go towards a successful transplant procedure. Dr. Press from the SCCA (Seattle Cancer Care Allilance) spoke with me on Monday and after hearing the results of the PET scan agreed that I would do best with another round of R-CHOP Chemo.I received it this past Thursday October 28. I am recovering from that 7 hour process this weekend, but will go ahead and preach at all three worship services on Sunday. I also have a graveside service Monday afternoon and a Session meeting at the church Monday evening. My Prednazone pills will end on Monday, so I will start feeling the full effects of the Chemo after that. Dr. Press also informed us that we have found one match for my transplant from among the first five donors who submitted blood samples. It happens to be my sister Patsy Pagiotas who lives near Albany, New York. She is the matriarch of the family and would be willing to come out for the transplant if another younger and closer donor can't be found. This is a great act of love and sacrifice on her part and we appreciate it very much. We should have results from at least 2 other possible donors next week who are the next two older siblings after me. You wouldn't believe the number of people who have offered to be tested as possible stem cell donors. It is a testament to the value of friendship. It reminds me that my greatest net worth is not financial but relational. You cannot buy that level of devotion. It is the result of years of walking together through the best and the worst of times. We have been blessed to have been able to serve Christ at College Place Presbyterian for over 32 years. By the grace of God, we hope to be able to continue in that service for many years to come. The coming 14 months will demand great patience and perseverance on the part of all of our biological and church family. We hope to get all the pieces of this transplant puzzle in place so we can return to Seattle mid November and keep the process moving forward. There is a treatment option we can follow if the transplant isn't feasible given the age and health of the donors. We would prefer to go forward with the transplant, as that affords the greatest chance of long term complete recovery. However, it also introduces the bottom of the roller coaster ride of trading one potentially fatal disease for another. I might eliminate my cancer, only to have a Graft vs. Host complex that can be equally fatal if it gets out of control. That is why we will have to remain in Seattle up to 4-5 months following the transplant so they can monitor those potential risks. We would covet your prayers for all those decisions and outcomes. The best possible scenario would be to have a successful stem cell transplant that would cure my myleo-dysplastic syndrome, eliminate any residual cancer cells floating around, and replace my deficient immune system with a healthy and vigorous new one. That is why transplant patients often celebrate the date of their transplant as a new birthday. It has the potential to be a complete renaissance of physical life and is worth celebrating. The only thing that has greater power and eternal consequences is the day of conversion when God's Spirit makes us a new creation in Christ Jesus. The old is gone and all things become new. The righteousness of Christ is imputed/transplanted into our mortal bodies and we become the vessel of God's Spirit, grace and love to serve God and others. The correlations between my stem cell transplant and our spiritual rebirth will become more and more evident in the coming weeks and months. In my Junior Year of High School in Wapato, the fruit of the Spirit became more and more evident in every facet of my life.
Wapato Senior High School, FAll 1967
I returned from my second and final summer of work in Alberta via the Greyhound Bus Line. I knew what to expect the second time around and it wasn't nearly as stressful. I was looking forward to getting back to High School. God had blessed me with a good start my Sophomore year and I was more committed and devoted to serving Christ than ever before. In fact, I told my mother that I had decided to stop attending the Community Presbyterian Church where she was an elder and I was a member, and start attending the same holiness denomination that my brother and his wife attended in Medicine Hat. Occasionally my mother surprised me with deeper insights than I would have expected. I guess that after raising 10 other teenagers she had acquired some level of wisdom. She didn't have any significant problems with my decision. I think she knew that the pastor of the holiness church had a cute daughter my age and that this might be as much of a motivation as the theology or worship. She was probably right.
School started right away and I was busy and active from the get-go. I played Fall tennis and beat the number one singles player on our team in a challenge match. I was in training to make the Varsity Basketball team. I continued to be active playing the trombone in the band and Jazz ensemble. I was taking the most difficult academic courses available and I was active in many christian youth organizations in the church and community. I kept up my very disciplined study schedule and continued to get straight A's the entire year. That got me inducted into the National Honor Society and I was voted Vice President at the end of the year. I was also inducted into Modern Music Masters and was elected President for the following year. The topping on the cake, academically, was to be chosen Outstanding Junior Boy by the Masonic Lodge. It was a really big deal in schools of our size and I was probably considered a dark horse, unlikely to win considering the competition. However, the essay they had us write was about service and values of character and spirit. That was probably where I gained any advantage and everyone was pretty shocked when my name was announced as the winner. Ironically, my wife Kriss, who attended White Swan High School and was a year younger than I, won the same award her Junior Year. Our children had a lot to live up to and they far surpassed us in many many ways.
Sports, however, were still the biggest form of nortoriety in small towns then and now and I had some amazing experiences that Junior Year. I made the Varsity Basketball Team and though I didn't play a great deal, I was a significant part of the team and we were very successful. It is hard to imagine the level of athletic talent we would encounter during the course of that year. One of the A.C. Davis players in Yakima would end up running in the Olympic Games as a sprinter. Many of the players in the league would end up at Division I basketball programs. At the District Tournament the end of the season we played Pasco High School in the second round and faced off against a Sophmore phenom, named Ron Howard, who was a man among boys. We only lost to them by one point and the next night they beat Richland, the number 1 rated High School Team in the state by 20+ points. Pasco went on to finish second in the state tournament a couple of weeks later and the Sophmore Phenom would end up playing tight end for the Seattle Seahawks of the NFL. We were a Senior dominated team and I was slated to be one of the starting guards the coming year. Tennis was even more exciting for me personally and as a team. We had a truly talented team and I rose in the ratings to second singles. I had numerous unexpected highlights throughout the year and finished forth at the District Tournament. My friends were beginning to respect my spiritual life as well as my academic and athletic accomplishments. But Wapato was a fairly small pond and I was becoming a bigger and bigger fish. It was a recipe for pride and disaster. Little did I know that God had other plans for me my Senior Year in High School.This would all be revealed to me during my summer months, living with my oldest sister, Patsy Pagiotas and her husband Paul and their three children near Schenectady, New York. Just when you think you suspect you know what God is all about in your life, there comes a curve ball that puts you on the seat of your pants and you have to get up, dust yourself off and start over. In the coming months in New York, God would challenge me with the most difficult choice I could have ever imagined.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Restoration
Walla Walla, WA October 23, 2010 Partly cloudy, 60 degrees.
We continue to wait for the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance to inform us concerning a stem-cell donor. I called them this week and all of my nine siblings have submitted their blood samples. They should have the results from the first five that they have received the middle of this coming week. I will call back then. It takes 2-3 weeks for a complete evaluation of the samples, so they won't have a final recommendation for some time. I would guess that we will be heading back to Seattle around the 15th of November. By that time, we will have everything ready for winter here at the farm and at the church. We will be dedicating the Wasser House tomorrow afternoon during our Annual Harvest Party. It will all be at the church this year. There have been so many people help out to get the house ready. It is inspirational to see so much effort and sacrifice for people none of us even know. I am looking forward to seeing how God will use this ministry of hospitality to be a blessing and an encouragement to these families who will stay at the Wasser House in the coming months and years. We will keep a journal for families to share what is going on in their lives during their stay with us. I am confident that it will be a significant step in the journey of restoring their health and well being.
I have thought a lot about the idea of restoration this week. In the Old Testament lesson for this Sunday from Joel 2:25-26 it says: "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten--You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be ashamed." Cancer feels a lot like the devastating effects of locusts. Growing up in North Dakota, there were years when the grasshoppers would be so thick that when you walked out in the pasture or wheat fields every step would cause a cloud of locusts to swarm up before you. They would eat all the things we planted in our garden. They would damage the crops in the field so badly that it cost more to harvest a crop than you would receive from selling it. They would fly into your hair and clothes, clinging to your face and hands and leaving behind a dark brown liquid that looked a lot like my Grandfather's chewing tobacco. They made you feel increasingly discouraged, day after day, as you saw your hopes and dreams slowly eaten to nothing. Cancer treatment does something like that to you. You watch your hair fall out and your skin start to age as if time were accelerating out of control. In fact, it's that sense that you are going downhill in a car without brakes that keeps you awake at night. So many other people are making decisions concerning what you do and where you go that if you are not vigilant, you become apathetic about everything. It's a great temptation to give in and accept the label "cancer patient" and act out the role of a passive victim. There is a fine line between unhealthy denial and a positive expectation for the future. Like locusts, cancer eats away at your hopes and dreams not only for the present, but for a future that you may not have. Two things happened this week that I believe were the voice of God to give me hope and strength. All the passages in the Lectionary for this week's worship speak of God's restoring promise and power. I dream about what my life will be like when God restores the years the locusts have eaten with a time of health and strength. I long for a season without pain, procedures and PET scans. In fact, the very second I was entering into the tunnel for my scan on Thursday, this song began to play:
"I Will Be Here"
Tomorrow morning if you wake up and the sun does not appear
I will be here
If in the dark we lose sight of love
Hold my hand and have no fear
Cause I will be here.
I will be here
When you feel like being quiet
When the laughter turns to crying
Through the winning, losing and trying
We'll be together
Cause I will be here
Tomorrow morning if you wake up and the furture is unclear
I will be here
As sure as seasons are made for change
Our lifetimes are made for years
So I will be here
I will be here
And you can cry on my shoulder
When the mirror tells us we're older
I will hold you
And I will be here
To watch you grow in beauty
And tell you all the things you are to me
I will be here
I will be true to the promise I have made to you
And to the One who gave you to me
I will be here
And just as sure as seasons are made for change
Our lifetimes are made for years
So I will be here
We'll be together
I will be here
This song was written for a wedding ceremony, but to me it is what God says to us about the depth of the Lord's love and devotion. At just the perfect second in time, I heard God's voice remind me that we were together in the bowels of that machine. The biggest drawback of feeling the presence of God's Spirit, is that you often can't keep the tears from flowing. Being in the process of the scan, you can't move at all and so your ears fill up with tears and you just try to keep from doing anything that would mess up the results. A friend of mine who has a problem with divine visitations, always thinks these things are just co-incidence. It happens so often and brings exactly what I need at exactly when I need it, that I believe without a doubt that God is that faithful, if we are willing to listen and believe. Even just a mustard seed amount of faith could do mighty things Jesus was oft to say. I would imagine there are many of you who will read these words that can identify with the image of the locusts and the time you have lost in life. Being stuck in a PET scan machine forced me to be still and listen to God's gracious voice in the words of this song. I would encourage you to find a time and place where you can just be still and know that God is God. You might be amazed at what wonderful things God may speak to our hearts when the volume of our life is turned low.
Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada - Summer of 1967
I went back to Canada for a second summer of work for brother Noel. The bred heifer I had purchased the year before had a problem pregnancy and the calf didn't survive. It was a disappointment, but a valuable lesson in the reality of farming and ranching. I ended up selling her back to Noel the end of my second year. I knew a lot more what to expect my second time around. Like any sophomore, I knew just enough about farming and equipment to be dangerous. I drove Noel's prized pick-up truck into the corner of a building and dented the body just behind the driver's door. I baled straw, but didn't know enough to adjust the tension as it warmed up and he probably rued that omission every time he picked up a 30 lb. straw bale that winter. I spent more time with the neighbor boys and friends from the church. It seemed like something always happened when I was with them, like getting skinned up riding double on a motorbike. I was sore and bleeding for a couple of days, but the work had to be done and no mercy is given for stupidity. I learned to drive a swather, cutting wheat so it would dry and cure before winter set in. I only ran the swather into a rock pile once, and there was no damage. Putting up hay became a major work preoccupation. Noel had a German immigrant friend who was a competing weight lifter. He liked to come out and throw bales up on the trailer we used to haul them from the field to the stack near the barn. After you got higher than you could throw them by hand, you took a three pronged pitchfork, stuck it in the middle of the bale and lifted it up and over your head to the top of the stack. This guy could do it effortlessly. I secretly would go out after dinner in the evening and practise, hoping one day to take my turn putting bales up over my head with a pitchfork. It was a real challenge and I prayed for God's strength so I could prove myself to my brother and his buddy. The last week of hauling hay, I screwed up my courage and volunteered to take a turn with the pitchfork. They were both sceptical, yet curious. I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and successfully lifted maybe 5-6 bales like a full fledged hay hauler. I had crossed the threshold from kid brother to hired man. I felt like the Biblical Samson who had been given supernatural powers to accomplish some great feat of strength. Now I was faced with a spiritual challenge equal to the physical one I had just passed.
Sunday evening worship service was always devoted to testimony and praise from the participants. Having had a clear and obvious direct answer to prayer by my successful hay hauling feats, I knew I was supposed to give a public testimony of God's faithfulness and goodness in my life. I dreaded the rest of the week. I bargained with God nightly about all the reasons I shouldn't have to stand up and testify in church the coming Sunday evening. I thought about faking illness, but I knew that was a coward's way out. I rationalized that God would certainly choose other more righteous and worthy people to speak His praises. I promised that I would tithe my income, read my Bible and pray every day, if God would just give me a free pass from ever standing up in front of a group of christians and saying anything publicly. Knowing what I know of my life today, I can only imagine God getting a good laugh out of what my life's vocation would entail. Vocation comes from the latin word vocare. It literally means the voice or call of God upon your life and destiny. My friend Frederick Buechner says that your vocation, or the place where God is calling you, is where the world's greatest needs and your greatest joy intersect. I went to church that night resigned to my divine appointment. About in the middle of the praise and testimony session, I felt like the Spirit of God yanked me out of the pew and there I was standing in the congregation with everyone curious as to what this rather strange young man from WA state would have to say. The only thing I could testify about was: "God gave me the strength to lift some hay bales over my head with a three pronged pitchfork this week." I sat down sweating profusely and was amazed that I hadn't keeled over, dead on the spot. I was certain that this was a once in a lifetime experience. I went home confident that I would probably never have to stand up in front of a church and speak, ever again in my lifetime. How little do we know or even imagine what craziness God is up to. It's probably better that we don't know where God's hand will guide us, we might just die from fright.
We continue to wait for the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance to inform us concerning a stem-cell donor. I called them this week and all of my nine siblings have submitted their blood samples. They should have the results from the first five that they have received the middle of this coming week. I will call back then. It takes 2-3 weeks for a complete evaluation of the samples, so they won't have a final recommendation for some time. I would guess that we will be heading back to Seattle around the 15th of November. By that time, we will have everything ready for winter here at the farm and at the church. We will be dedicating the Wasser House tomorrow afternoon during our Annual Harvest Party. It will all be at the church this year. There have been so many people help out to get the house ready. It is inspirational to see so much effort and sacrifice for people none of us even know. I am looking forward to seeing how God will use this ministry of hospitality to be a blessing and an encouragement to these families who will stay at the Wasser House in the coming months and years. We will keep a journal for families to share what is going on in their lives during their stay with us. I am confident that it will be a significant step in the journey of restoring their health and well being.
I have thought a lot about the idea of restoration this week. In the Old Testament lesson for this Sunday from Joel 2:25-26 it says: "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten--You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be ashamed." Cancer feels a lot like the devastating effects of locusts. Growing up in North Dakota, there were years when the grasshoppers would be so thick that when you walked out in the pasture or wheat fields every step would cause a cloud of locusts to swarm up before you. They would eat all the things we planted in our garden. They would damage the crops in the field so badly that it cost more to harvest a crop than you would receive from selling it. They would fly into your hair and clothes, clinging to your face and hands and leaving behind a dark brown liquid that looked a lot like my Grandfather's chewing tobacco. They made you feel increasingly discouraged, day after day, as you saw your hopes and dreams slowly eaten to nothing. Cancer treatment does something like that to you. You watch your hair fall out and your skin start to age as if time were accelerating out of control. In fact, it's that sense that you are going downhill in a car without brakes that keeps you awake at night. So many other people are making decisions concerning what you do and where you go that if you are not vigilant, you become apathetic about everything. It's a great temptation to give in and accept the label "cancer patient" and act out the role of a passive victim. There is a fine line between unhealthy denial and a positive expectation for the future. Like locusts, cancer eats away at your hopes and dreams not only for the present, but for a future that you may not have. Two things happened this week that I believe were the voice of God to give me hope and strength. All the passages in the Lectionary for this week's worship speak of God's restoring promise and power. I dream about what my life will be like when God restores the years the locusts have eaten with a time of health and strength. I long for a season without pain, procedures and PET scans. In fact, the very second I was entering into the tunnel for my scan on Thursday, this song began to play:
"I Will Be Here"
Tomorrow morning if you wake up and the sun does not appear
I will be here
If in the dark we lose sight of love
Hold my hand and have no fear
Cause I will be here.
I will be here
When you feel like being quiet
When the laughter turns to crying
Through the winning, losing and trying
We'll be together
Cause I will be here
Tomorrow morning if you wake up and the furture is unclear
I will be here
As sure as seasons are made for change
Our lifetimes are made for years
So I will be here
I will be here
And you can cry on my shoulder
When the mirror tells us we're older
I will hold you
And I will be here
To watch you grow in beauty
And tell you all the things you are to me
I will be here
I will be true to the promise I have made to you
And to the One who gave you to me
I will be here
And just as sure as seasons are made for change
Our lifetimes are made for years
So I will be here
We'll be together
I will be here
This song was written for a wedding ceremony, but to me it is what God says to us about the depth of the Lord's love and devotion. At just the perfect second in time, I heard God's voice remind me that we were together in the bowels of that machine. The biggest drawback of feeling the presence of God's Spirit, is that you often can't keep the tears from flowing. Being in the process of the scan, you can't move at all and so your ears fill up with tears and you just try to keep from doing anything that would mess up the results. A friend of mine who has a problem with divine visitations, always thinks these things are just co-incidence. It happens so often and brings exactly what I need at exactly when I need it, that I believe without a doubt that God is that faithful, if we are willing to listen and believe. Even just a mustard seed amount of faith could do mighty things Jesus was oft to say. I would imagine there are many of you who will read these words that can identify with the image of the locusts and the time you have lost in life. Being stuck in a PET scan machine forced me to be still and listen to God's gracious voice in the words of this song. I would encourage you to find a time and place where you can just be still and know that God is God. You might be amazed at what wonderful things God may speak to our hearts when the volume of our life is turned low.
Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada - Summer of 1967
I went back to Canada for a second summer of work for brother Noel. The bred heifer I had purchased the year before had a problem pregnancy and the calf didn't survive. It was a disappointment, but a valuable lesson in the reality of farming and ranching. I ended up selling her back to Noel the end of my second year. I knew a lot more what to expect my second time around. Like any sophomore, I knew just enough about farming and equipment to be dangerous. I drove Noel's prized pick-up truck into the corner of a building and dented the body just behind the driver's door. I baled straw, but didn't know enough to adjust the tension as it warmed up and he probably rued that omission every time he picked up a 30 lb. straw bale that winter. I spent more time with the neighbor boys and friends from the church. It seemed like something always happened when I was with them, like getting skinned up riding double on a motorbike. I was sore and bleeding for a couple of days, but the work had to be done and no mercy is given for stupidity. I learned to drive a swather, cutting wheat so it would dry and cure before winter set in. I only ran the swather into a rock pile once, and there was no damage. Putting up hay became a major work preoccupation. Noel had a German immigrant friend who was a competing weight lifter. He liked to come out and throw bales up on the trailer we used to haul them from the field to the stack near the barn. After you got higher than you could throw them by hand, you took a three pronged pitchfork, stuck it in the middle of the bale and lifted it up and over your head to the top of the stack. This guy could do it effortlessly. I secretly would go out after dinner in the evening and practise, hoping one day to take my turn putting bales up over my head with a pitchfork. It was a real challenge and I prayed for God's strength so I could prove myself to my brother and his buddy. The last week of hauling hay, I screwed up my courage and volunteered to take a turn with the pitchfork. They were both sceptical, yet curious. I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and successfully lifted maybe 5-6 bales like a full fledged hay hauler. I had crossed the threshold from kid brother to hired man. I felt like the Biblical Samson who had been given supernatural powers to accomplish some great feat of strength. Now I was faced with a spiritual challenge equal to the physical one I had just passed.
Sunday evening worship service was always devoted to testimony and praise from the participants. Having had a clear and obvious direct answer to prayer by my successful hay hauling feats, I knew I was supposed to give a public testimony of God's faithfulness and goodness in my life. I dreaded the rest of the week. I bargained with God nightly about all the reasons I shouldn't have to stand up and testify in church the coming Sunday evening. I thought about faking illness, but I knew that was a coward's way out. I rationalized that God would certainly choose other more righteous and worthy people to speak His praises. I promised that I would tithe my income, read my Bible and pray every day, if God would just give me a free pass from ever standing up in front of a group of christians and saying anything publicly. Knowing what I know of my life today, I can only imagine God getting a good laugh out of what my life's vocation would entail. Vocation comes from the latin word vocare. It literally means the voice or call of God upon your life and destiny. My friend Frederick Buechner says that your vocation, or the place where God is calling you, is where the world's greatest needs and your greatest joy intersect. I went to church that night resigned to my divine appointment. About in the middle of the praise and testimony session, I felt like the Spirit of God yanked me out of the pew and there I was standing in the congregation with everyone curious as to what this rather strange young man from WA state would have to say. The only thing I could testify about was: "God gave me the strength to lift some hay bales over my head with a three pronged pitchfork this week." I sat down sweating profusely and was amazed that I hadn't keeled over, dead on the spot. I was certain that this was a once in a lifetime experience. I went home confident that I would probably never have to stand up in front of a church and speak, ever again in my lifetime. How little do we know or even imagine what craziness God is up to. It's probably better that we don't know where God's hand will guide us, we might just die from fright.
Friday, October 15, 2010
NEW BEGINNINGS!
Friday, October 15, 2010, Walla Walla, WA 65 degrees perfect weather.
I am feeling more effects from the latest R-CHOP chemo that I had just over a week ago. It is sort of a delayed reaction. You feel fairly well when you are still taking 100 milligrams of Prednazone every day for 5 days. Then you come off of that cold turkey and the side effects of the chemo agents start to kick in and it's difficult to have much energy to do anything optional, like writing a blog. I also officiated at two Memorial Services last Saturday afternoon and preached three times on Sunday morning. We are in the process of finalizing the reconstruction of the Wasser House, located just next door to CPPC. It will be a home for people who are in Walla Walla to receive cancer treatment. There is already the Herring House for that service, but they only allow adults and have no capacity for children. We will be able to host one family at a time and focus on those with a child in treatment. The team getting the house in order has set a deadline of October 24 to get it ready and we will dedicate it during our Harvest Party that Sunday afternoon. There is already a waiting list of families who need this service, so we will have the privilege of showing God's love and grace to many over the years. People come to Walla Walla from all over NE Oregon and SW WA. to receive cancer treatment. With winter driving conditions approaching in the Blue Mountains, it becomes difficult, if not dangerous to drive over 1-2 mountain passes every day for radiation or other treatment. We know that this ministry of hospitality will not only meet physical and financial needs, but we pray that God's love will touch the hearts of all those who come to this house. It is a ministry of completely unconditional love. There are no strings attached to the use of the facility. We are creating a hospitality ministry team to welcome new guests, give them orientation about the house and the community and provide information about opportunities within our congregation and community that they can access. We already have a volunteer who happens to be a nurse, who will clean the facility after every usage. She wants to offer her nursing skills and awareness of sterile necessity to make sure people are safe and secure. Many others have given amazing amounts of time, skills and resources to transform this eyesore into a place of beauty and service. That is the goal of the cancer treatments and stem-cell transplant that we are experiencing.
I have heard from most of my siblings and they have submitted the blood samples to the SCCA for testing. We hope to hear from those tests in the next couple of weeks. I am scheduled for a PET scan on Thursday, October 21 and then will meet with my Oncologist the next week here in Walla Walla. The R-CHOP is obviously having a strong impact on my body. The tumor in my neck is essentially gone, along with my hair. Kriss and Cleo pulled out the bulk of it as I was shedding and then I went to the barber and had him even it all out with his closest cutting blade. I have an uncanny resemblence to DR. EVIL when I take my glasses off. I demonstrated that during the worship services last Sunday. It got a lot of laughs. One has to keep some form of self-deprecating humor in all of this or you can find yourself in a bad place. I try to keep in perspective all the amazing blessings that flood over my life on a daily basis. My friend Glenn, whose Memorial Service I led last week, was diagnosed with his cancer in late August of this year and died within six weeks. My first cancer surgery was 12 years ago and I have had four years since my initial diagnosis with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. I try to live one day at a time and give thanks for the gift and miracle of each moment. I still waste a lot of time on probably non-essentials, like watching sports on TV, but some days it is therapeutic to just sit in my recliner and rest. We are just clay. Jeremiah 18 speaks of God as the Master Potter that keeps shaping and reshaping our lives into the form God desires, which is ultimately to be like Jesus. During my Sophmore year at Wapato High School I started a complete make-over in every area of my life.
Fall of 1966, Wapato, WA - Welcome to High School!
I survived my return from the wilds of Alberta via the Greyhound Bus Lines. It was a long and tedious trip with a layover in Spokane in the middle of the night. There is no way you can sleep on those benches and you are constantly in fear that someone is going to just up and steal your luggage if you do happen to fall asleep. Bus Depots are not usually located in the best parts of town and so I got home very tired and cranky. High School orientation began immediately and we were the Class of '69, mighty fine. Having started a complete reset of my priorities and lifestyle in Canada, I wanted to make sure that I didn't fall back into old habits and patterns of behavior. Inspired by the example of people I had met in Alberta, I began to instill spiritual disciplines into my daily life. I prayed for every meal. I began to read not only the Bible daily, but other devotional materials. I discovered a "Christian Radio" station, KBBO in Yakima, WA that aired a program entitled "Unshackled" every weekday evening just when I was going to bed. It originated from some Rescue Mission in Chicago, IL and told a story each night of some desperate soul coming to the Mission for food and shelter and finding a new life in Jesus Christ. It was an ole-timey program with corny organ music in the background for emotional emphasis. Somehow the message was powerful enough to ignore the massage and I became a devoted listener. It reminded me daily of the power of prayer and the hope of a new life in Christ. Many of the converts had had a Godly mother or grandmother who had been praying for them for years, if not decades, and God answered those prayers. I began to pray for my family and friends with a hope and an expectation that God would one day fill their hearts with the Spirit of Life. As a result of these changes, I found myself in no man's land socially and culturally speaking. My friends had no idea how to relate to me any more. I didn't make it easy for them. I was a typical convert. Zealous to a fault, I must have come across as an amazingly arrogant and self-righteous fanatic. I had no qualms about telling them to stop listening to Rock and Roll Music and even suggested KBBO as an alternative. Having been deeply influenced by the Holiness Church in Medicine Hat, I made an appointment with the Principal of Wapato High School, Mr. Dorr, to see about abolishing School Dances. This was obiviously a place of sin and degradation and I thought it would be better for public schools to eliminate such temptations from their schedule. He was not in support of my vision and politely excused me from the office.
The transformation of my mind and spirit (cf, Romans 12:1-2) first showed up in my academic life. I now had time to study, since no one was calling to talk to me or invite me to go anywhere. I devised a very disciplined hourly pattern in which I would read or study intensively for 15 minutes. Then I would reward myself with a 5 minute break and then force myself to go back for 15 minutes on and 5 minutes off. I had read someplace that your efficiency of retention declines rapidly after 20 minutes of concentration, to the point that if you tried to read or study intensively for 60 minutes, the last 40 minutes would essentially be wasted. In my schedule, I could get 45 minutes of productive work out of 60 minutes and reward myself with three 5 minute breaks as well. It worked so well that I rapidly became a model student. I got everything done on time and came to class prepared to contribute to discussion and discovery. By the end of the first Quarter, I proudly carried my Quarterly Grade Report into the High School Library to show my mother how well I had done. It was the best Grade Report I had ever had and I knew she would be very proud and pleased. I received all A's and one B+. I handed her the Report Card without comment and awaited her response. She looked at it for a minute and without any facial expression or emotion stated: "You could have done better!" I was so angry and disappointed that I was speachless. I grabbed the paper and stalked out of the Library vowing under my breath that I would show her. I did. Over the course of the next 2 3/4 years in High School I would receive nothing less than an A, except for my final Trimester my Sr. year when I got another B+. I would not recommend this as a helpful parenting skill, but either my mother was extremely wise in how far and hard to push her expectations, or she was just having a bad day. Regardless, my academic transformation would continue and I would initial PTL on returned papers and tests, Praise The Lord. God was the only reason I could either desire or accomplish anything of value in my life.
The second area of obvious change in my life was my dedication and commitment to tennis and basketball. My mother had forbidden me from playing football. She had had enough sons seriously injured playing that sport and she argued that tennis, in particular, was a lifetime sport that you could play forever. I bought that reasoning and so I played tennis fall and spring, but basketball was king in Wapato and to be a member of the Wolfpack Basketball Team was the dream of most of the young boys in the community. Wapato was a school of about 600 students, but there were only a couple of classifications of different school sizes in those days and we competed against the largest High Schools in the state. Wapato was legendary as a small school who could compete with anyone. During my career, I had the privilege of playing for two WA State Hall of Fame Basketball coaches, Russ Insley and Jerry Groenig. They were Hall of Fame stature as people, as well as coaches. Early in the fall of my Sophmore year, I began training in earnest to make the Jr. Varsity Team. Those were the days of limited playing opportunity and there was only a Varsity and a Jr. Varsity Boys Basketball team. If you didn't make Jr. Varsity as a Sophmore, your basketball career was essentially over. By some divine intervention, I was selected as one of the chosen 12 out of dozens of candidates. We all got a buzz shave, just like I have today due to chemo, and we proudly wore the scarf and knit caps required by the coaching staff whenever we went outdoors. I was the shortest player on the team. By the end of the season, I would be one of the starting guards, along with my friend Glenn Hata. My favorite place to play was Ellensburg, WA. For some reason, I always did my best there and I was high point man when we played them in January, 1967. One memory stands out in particular from that season. We were playing a tight game in Grandview, WA and leading by just a few points, Coach Groenig told us to hold on to the ball and force them to foul us. I had been practising this special move inside the key that I had perfected to where I could score 9 out of 10 times. I found myself in the right place for that move and someone passed me the ball and I just reacted out of instinct and did the move and scored a basket. Coach Groenig immediately called time-out in order to ream me out for disobeying his explicit instructions about holding on to the ball. Arriving at the bench, he sternly asked me if I didn't recall him telling us to hold on to the ball. The only thing I thought to say was: "But Coach, I knew I could make it!" He had seen me practising this move over and over, even after practise was over, and I guess he believed me. I didn't take any more unauthorized shots the rest of the game, however, but I learned a lesson about dedication and courage in the face of adversity. My entire Sophmore Year would be a turning point in my life. The old adage was coming true, "God honors those who honor Him." I had committed to returning to Canada for a second year on brother Noel's cattle ranch. I wanted to show Noel and Betty that I was a new person in Christ. I went back with a completely different attitude and motivation.
I am feeling more effects from the latest R-CHOP chemo that I had just over a week ago. It is sort of a delayed reaction. You feel fairly well when you are still taking 100 milligrams of Prednazone every day for 5 days. Then you come off of that cold turkey and the side effects of the chemo agents start to kick in and it's difficult to have much energy to do anything optional, like writing a blog. I also officiated at two Memorial Services last Saturday afternoon and preached three times on Sunday morning. We are in the process of finalizing the reconstruction of the Wasser House, located just next door to CPPC. It will be a home for people who are in Walla Walla to receive cancer treatment. There is already the Herring House for that service, but they only allow adults and have no capacity for children. We will be able to host one family at a time and focus on those with a child in treatment. The team getting the house in order has set a deadline of October 24 to get it ready and we will dedicate it during our Harvest Party that Sunday afternoon. There is already a waiting list of families who need this service, so we will have the privilege of showing God's love and grace to many over the years. People come to Walla Walla from all over NE Oregon and SW WA. to receive cancer treatment. With winter driving conditions approaching in the Blue Mountains, it becomes difficult, if not dangerous to drive over 1-2 mountain passes every day for radiation or other treatment. We know that this ministry of hospitality will not only meet physical and financial needs, but we pray that God's love will touch the hearts of all those who come to this house. It is a ministry of completely unconditional love. There are no strings attached to the use of the facility. We are creating a hospitality ministry team to welcome new guests, give them orientation about the house and the community and provide information about opportunities within our congregation and community that they can access. We already have a volunteer who happens to be a nurse, who will clean the facility after every usage. She wants to offer her nursing skills and awareness of sterile necessity to make sure people are safe and secure. Many others have given amazing amounts of time, skills and resources to transform this eyesore into a place of beauty and service. That is the goal of the cancer treatments and stem-cell transplant that we are experiencing.
I have heard from most of my siblings and they have submitted the blood samples to the SCCA for testing. We hope to hear from those tests in the next couple of weeks. I am scheduled for a PET scan on Thursday, October 21 and then will meet with my Oncologist the next week here in Walla Walla. The R-CHOP is obviously having a strong impact on my body. The tumor in my neck is essentially gone, along with my hair. Kriss and Cleo pulled out the bulk of it as I was shedding and then I went to the barber and had him even it all out with his closest cutting blade. I have an uncanny resemblence to DR. EVIL when I take my glasses off. I demonstrated that during the worship services last Sunday. It got a lot of laughs. One has to keep some form of self-deprecating humor in all of this or you can find yourself in a bad place. I try to keep in perspective all the amazing blessings that flood over my life on a daily basis. My friend Glenn, whose Memorial Service I led last week, was diagnosed with his cancer in late August of this year and died within six weeks. My first cancer surgery was 12 years ago and I have had four years since my initial diagnosis with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. I try to live one day at a time and give thanks for the gift and miracle of each moment. I still waste a lot of time on probably non-essentials, like watching sports on TV, but some days it is therapeutic to just sit in my recliner and rest. We are just clay. Jeremiah 18 speaks of God as the Master Potter that keeps shaping and reshaping our lives into the form God desires, which is ultimately to be like Jesus. During my Sophmore year at Wapato High School I started a complete make-over in every area of my life.
Fall of 1966, Wapato, WA - Welcome to High School!
I survived my return from the wilds of Alberta via the Greyhound Bus Lines. It was a long and tedious trip with a layover in Spokane in the middle of the night. There is no way you can sleep on those benches and you are constantly in fear that someone is going to just up and steal your luggage if you do happen to fall asleep. Bus Depots are not usually located in the best parts of town and so I got home very tired and cranky. High School orientation began immediately and we were the Class of '69, mighty fine. Having started a complete reset of my priorities and lifestyle in Canada, I wanted to make sure that I didn't fall back into old habits and patterns of behavior. Inspired by the example of people I had met in Alberta, I began to instill spiritual disciplines into my daily life. I prayed for every meal. I began to read not only the Bible daily, but other devotional materials. I discovered a "Christian Radio" station, KBBO in Yakima, WA that aired a program entitled "Unshackled" every weekday evening just when I was going to bed. It originated from some Rescue Mission in Chicago, IL and told a story each night of some desperate soul coming to the Mission for food and shelter and finding a new life in Jesus Christ. It was an ole-timey program with corny organ music in the background for emotional emphasis. Somehow the message was powerful enough to ignore the massage and I became a devoted listener. It reminded me daily of the power of prayer and the hope of a new life in Christ. Many of the converts had had a Godly mother or grandmother who had been praying for them for years, if not decades, and God answered those prayers. I began to pray for my family and friends with a hope and an expectation that God would one day fill their hearts with the Spirit of Life. As a result of these changes, I found myself in no man's land socially and culturally speaking. My friends had no idea how to relate to me any more. I didn't make it easy for them. I was a typical convert. Zealous to a fault, I must have come across as an amazingly arrogant and self-righteous fanatic. I had no qualms about telling them to stop listening to Rock and Roll Music and even suggested KBBO as an alternative. Having been deeply influenced by the Holiness Church in Medicine Hat, I made an appointment with the Principal of Wapato High School, Mr. Dorr, to see about abolishing School Dances. This was obiviously a place of sin and degradation and I thought it would be better for public schools to eliminate such temptations from their schedule. He was not in support of my vision and politely excused me from the office.
The transformation of my mind and spirit (cf, Romans 12:1-2) first showed up in my academic life. I now had time to study, since no one was calling to talk to me or invite me to go anywhere. I devised a very disciplined hourly pattern in which I would read or study intensively for 15 minutes. Then I would reward myself with a 5 minute break and then force myself to go back for 15 minutes on and 5 minutes off. I had read someplace that your efficiency of retention declines rapidly after 20 minutes of concentration, to the point that if you tried to read or study intensively for 60 minutes, the last 40 minutes would essentially be wasted. In my schedule, I could get 45 minutes of productive work out of 60 minutes and reward myself with three 5 minute breaks as well. It worked so well that I rapidly became a model student. I got everything done on time and came to class prepared to contribute to discussion and discovery. By the end of the first Quarter, I proudly carried my Quarterly Grade Report into the High School Library to show my mother how well I had done. It was the best Grade Report I had ever had and I knew she would be very proud and pleased. I received all A's and one B+. I handed her the Report Card without comment and awaited her response. She looked at it for a minute and without any facial expression or emotion stated: "You could have done better!" I was so angry and disappointed that I was speachless. I grabbed the paper and stalked out of the Library vowing under my breath that I would show her. I did. Over the course of the next 2 3/4 years in High School I would receive nothing less than an A, except for my final Trimester my Sr. year when I got another B+. I would not recommend this as a helpful parenting skill, but either my mother was extremely wise in how far and hard to push her expectations, or she was just having a bad day. Regardless, my academic transformation would continue and I would initial PTL on returned papers and tests, Praise The Lord. God was the only reason I could either desire or accomplish anything of value in my life.
The second area of obvious change in my life was my dedication and commitment to tennis and basketball. My mother had forbidden me from playing football. She had had enough sons seriously injured playing that sport and she argued that tennis, in particular, was a lifetime sport that you could play forever. I bought that reasoning and so I played tennis fall and spring, but basketball was king in Wapato and to be a member of the Wolfpack Basketball Team was the dream of most of the young boys in the community. Wapato was a school of about 600 students, but there were only a couple of classifications of different school sizes in those days and we competed against the largest High Schools in the state. Wapato was legendary as a small school who could compete with anyone. During my career, I had the privilege of playing for two WA State Hall of Fame Basketball coaches, Russ Insley and Jerry Groenig. They were Hall of Fame stature as people, as well as coaches. Early in the fall of my Sophmore year, I began training in earnest to make the Jr. Varsity Team. Those were the days of limited playing opportunity and there was only a Varsity and a Jr. Varsity Boys Basketball team. If you didn't make Jr. Varsity as a Sophmore, your basketball career was essentially over. By some divine intervention, I was selected as one of the chosen 12 out of dozens of candidates. We all got a buzz shave, just like I have today due to chemo, and we proudly wore the scarf and knit caps required by the coaching staff whenever we went outdoors. I was the shortest player on the team. By the end of the season, I would be one of the starting guards, along with my friend Glenn Hata. My favorite place to play was Ellensburg, WA. For some reason, I always did my best there and I was high point man when we played them in January, 1967. One memory stands out in particular from that season. We were playing a tight game in Grandview, WA and leading by just a few points, Coach Groenig told us to hold on to the ball and force them to foul us. I had been practising this special move inside the key that I had perfected to where I could score 9 out of 10 times. I found myself in the right place for that move and someone passed me the ball and I just reacted out of instinct and did the move and scored a basket. Coach Groenig immediately called time-out in order to ream me out for disobeying his explicit instructions about holding on to the ball. Arriving at the bench, he sternly asked me if I didn't recall him telling us to hold on to the ball. The only thing I thought to say was: "But Coach, I knew I could make it!" He had seen me practising this move over and over, even after practise was over, and I guess he believed me. I didn't take any more unauthorized shots the rest of the game, however, but I learned a lesson about dedication and courage in the face of adversity. My entire Sophmore Year would be a turning point in my life. The old adage was coming true, "God honors those who honor Him." I had committed to returning to Canada for a second year on brother Noel's cattle ranch. I wanted to show Noel and Betty that I was a new person in Christ. I went back with a completely different attitude and motivation.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
FROM A SOW'S EAR TO A SILK PURSE/SANCTIFICATION
Walla Walla, WA 70 degrees, beautiful weather,
I have my second R-CHOP tomorrow. It is a 6-7 hour process and I'm not looking forward to it. Hopefully my PICC line will work for the infusions and everything will go smoothly. I am starting to lose my hair. It comes out in clumps. I told our daughter Cleo that I am starting to look like a dog with mange. I may just shave it all off to get it over with. Cleo is saving some of it to make a bird's nest. I told her to make it big enough for a Robin's nest, she got a kick out of that. I am hearing from brothers and sisters that they have received their blood sample kits from the SCCA. They will get those sent back in and then we will find out who is a possible stem cell donor match. I will have a PET scan within 3 weeks to see how effective the R-CHOP has been. That's when I will have to go back to Seattle and make decisions about the timing for the Stem Cell Transplant. There are some big decisions surrounding all of those details, and we would appreciate your prayers for wisdom and discernment. We weaned the 2010 calf crop yesterday. The mother cows don't seem too stressed about it all. The calves are in the feedlot next to the barn and are already munching on hay through the feeder panels. They will need their second shot in two weeks for all their post weaning vaccinations. Bud Bier is putting up our final 16 acres of feeder hay this week. So far, the weather is co-operating and that will wrap up all our 2010 farm work. We sold some grass horse hay last week and got more hay stored in the barn for winter. Being home has given us a chance to get all the regular things done that need to be done before winter. The cows will be out on pasture for another 6-7 weeks before we will have to think about supplementing their feed rations. Cleo will have to round up some help to take care of that over the winter. Kriss is looking forward to leaving her crutches behind in less than two weeks. I would like to share with you the story of a special man who walked on crutches for 21 years, from 1641-1662.
Blaise Pascal was born June 19, 1623. His mother died when he was three years old. When he was eight, his father moved with his three children to Paris, France so that he could better care for them and provide the best opportuities for an education. He knew that Blaise was a gifted child. When the author Chateaubriand met him for the first time, he described Blaise as "un effrayant genie", a frightening genius. Desiring Blaise to have a more classical education, his father forbade him from studying mathematics. That minor impediment did not stop Pascal from learning on his own. By the time he was 11 years old, he surrepticiously had a paper published on the creation of sound and sound waves, based on his secret study of mathematical principles. His father relented and enrolled him with the greatest mathematicians of his day. By the age of 12, he had mastered the 33 original propositions of Euclide. His fame intensified with his publication, at 16 years of age, of an essay on cones and conical properties.
His father worked for the government calculating tax and interest fees. It was a job he could do at home so he could be with his children as much as possible. However, he often would work through the night doing all these minute calculations. Blaise created "la machine arithmetique", or a device that could make those calculations which would become the precusor to all modern calculators and computors. It made his father's work feasible, given the time he had available. By this time his family had moved to Rouen. Following an accident in which he broke his leg, Blaise's father needed in home medical care. It was provided by two caregivers who had recently been converted to the teachings of Jansenism, an offshoot of Catholicism that melded teachings of Augustine and Calvin. The entire family was converted and Blaise came to the conclusion that the ultimate goal in life was not the acquistion of truth, but the inculcation of holiness. Tragically, Blaise had fallen victim to early onset tuberculosis when he was 18 years old. He would have to use crutches for the next 21 years until his death in 1662. Rather than becoming embittered by his limitations, Pascal used his suffering as a launch pad in order to focus more fully on the sicknesses of his soul. He wrote an essay entitled: "Prayer to God - How to Best Learn From Affliction". From 18 on, he would never live a day without physical pain and misery. He is a living testimony to all of us about overcoming great obstacles.
Despite his physical limitations, it seemed to magnify his intellectual and spiritual gifts. Pascal had an unique view of science and religion. Theology was a "science, or source of knowledge based on the authority of revealed truth in Holy Scripture". Emperical Science was "based on human reason and scientific experimentation that led to 'connaissance' deep understanding". In his vast mind and view of the world, he was able to reconcile his religious convictions with his world changing scientific contributions. He rejected all authority, both ecclesiastical and intellectual that refused to embrace new understandings and progress. His secular resume is without equal. His studies on "le vide", or vacuum, led to the creation of the first barometer and such practical devices as the hypodermic syringe. Ultimately he would establish the foundational principles of hydraulics, infinitesimal calculus, theories of probability and vast theological insights. Equally, he would put into practice his biblical convictions in the creation of a form of public transportation for the poor by purchasing, from his own resources, wagons and teams to make circular routes to safely transport workers to and from places of employment. The streets of Paris were plagued by reckless aristocrats travelling in large carriages that maimed and killed untold numbers of pedestrians, usually the poor and halt. Blaise felt he was supernatually saved from one such incident while traversing a bridge in Paris and barely escaped death or further physical impariment.
As with all human beings, Pascal experienced his own wanderings in the wilderness. Following the death of his father in 1651, Blaise struggled with a crisis of faith and identity. His father had been the foundation stone that stabilized his entire life. How could he live without that stability and security? He went through a period of secularism and public acclaim. He was a favorite among the salon devotees and he embraced a new philosophy of life that sought to understand the world through instinct and calculated behavior. He provided for his new admirers ideas on beating the odds at gambling, which made him very welcome and popular, indeed. He eventually, however, would be drawn back into the fellowship of the faithful. Monday, November 23, 1654 between the hours of 10:30 pm and 12:30 am, Blaise would describe in minute detail an encounter with the living God. Words like certitude, joy, peace and total submission would highlight his response to this encounter. He summorizes this experience by stating: "Eternally in joy as a result of one day of spiritual awareness in this world. Non obliviscar sermones tuos "I will never forget your promises". Amen.
Rededicated to his love for God and his passion to serve others, Pascal would consecrate the rest of his life to writing Christian treatises, debating opponents of Jansenism, and hiding out after he and his teachings were banned by the Papal authorities. Nearing the end of his life, he continued to show mercy and love. He gave a mother with a sick child his home, so she could properly care for her family. He had his sister place him in the paupers home for the terminally ill so he could die amidst the poor. On his deathbed, his greatest regret was that he had not done enough to alleviate the sufferings of the poorest of the poor.
Looking at the short 39 year life of Blaise Pascal, one sees the process of christian sanctification. It did not originate with Blaise Pascal. He would be the first to declare that it was all by grace and the free gift of God. He would be very content today, knowing that almost all of Christendom knows little or nothing about him personally. but benefits daily from his great knowledge and contributions to the world. His was a heart dedicated to loving and serving both God and humanity. If you ever travel to Stockholm, Sweden, visit the Royal Museum and there you will find the perfected Calculating Machine Pascal made for Queen Christine of Sweden around 1652. He is a living testimony of the faithfulness of God and the fruitfulness of lives that seek to honor God using the talents and abilities God provides. My own journey towards sanctification is very modest and far from complete. Nevertheless, my first summer working in Alberta was a jump-start on that path of holiness and sanctificaiton.
MEDICINE HAT, ALBERTA, CANADA SUMMER OF 1966
One of the first reality checks I received after being on brother Noel's cattle ranch for only a couple of days, was my language. Noel took me aside shortly upon my arrival and asked firmly and bluntly, if I would clean up my language around his two young sons. Well, I had been making a sincere and conscious effort to not use any words that would be offensive, but it seems it wasn't good enough. "Gosh darn", "Shoot", "Son of a gun" and other seemingly innoculous phrases were just thinly disguised replacements for their sinful cousins. I would have to learn a whole new way of talking, and I did. The first Saturday I was there was shopping in town day. It was starting to warm up and I put on a pair of cut-off pants to go to town. Noel flatly said he wouldn't be caught dead being seen with someone wearing cut off pants to town, so I could choose to change clothes, or stay home alone. Reality check #2. Sunday, of course, was a day of worship and rest. I had no idea that it would be taken so literally or consistently. Going to church was a cultural, as well as a spiritual shock. Boy and girls were segregated in separate classrooms, even for high school students. What a bummer. Noel and Betty attended a Church with a "holiness" origin and it wasn't anything like the Presbyterian worship services I was accustomed to attending. It could last long past the normal hour of 12 noon and it got pretty emotional at times. Returning home, we had a great lunch that Betty had mostly prepared the day before and then I was informed that it was time to rest, meaning FOB, flat on bed. I wasn't used to doing nothing on Sunday and I tried to argue my way around this new reality, but to no avail. The clincher was after nap time, we had a very light snack and headed back into town for evening worship. What a shock to my system to find out that going to church in the morning was just the prelude to the real service that took place in the evening. This was a praise and testimony service where people were expected to get up and share what God was doing in their lives and world. It could go on forever. After less than a week, I would have probably headed back home, but I had no way of getting there.
The details of my employment were that I was to work 6 days a week for $5 a day, plus room and board. It was better money and food than I could have earned back in Wapato, and Noel wouldn't pay me until the end of the summer, so I wouldn't be tempted to foolishly spend any of it. Week two brought another crisis. I received a letter saturated with perfume and covered with lipstick imprints of lucious lips back in Wapato. Betty was sincerely shocked that any self-respecting girl would send such a letter. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't so sure she was that self-respecting, but she let me have the letter in spite of her doubts about my moral character. Within two weeks the letters stopped. I'll never know if Betty confiscated the letters, or I was just another victim of short term romance and long distance forgetfulness. I grieved about a day or two and decided I was probably better off unattached for the moment. Slowly, God began to change my attitude and behavior. I actually started to listen in church and I met some really sincere believers who loved God and weren't ashamed to admit it.
Work on the ranch turned into a routine of irrigating, harvesting hay, fixing fence, working cattle and feeding chickens. It was those 500 chickens that changed my life for good. Betty raised these meat chickens to sell to customers in town in order to buy things for the family that she needed and wanted. About the hottest time of the summer, she told me that it was time to process the chickens. Now, I had helped my family butcher chickens back in North Dakota, but this was a serious number of chickens to process and I dreaded the smell of wet chicken feathers and warm entrails for two weeks. Every day we had to reach our goal of 50 chickens in order to be finished in two working weeks. It started at the crack of dawn. Heating water for scaulding, catching 50 chickens, removing the heads and stacking them up for dipping in the scaulding water and then we got to pluck every stinking feather and then "clean" them, or remove all the entrails. Final work was to singe off any chicken hair, wash them and put them in bags for the freezer. It took all day. I dreamed about chickens every night. I saw chicken feathers even when there weren't any. I could tell you everything about chicken anatomy in minute detail. To relieve the boredom, I thought about inventing an automatic guillotine devise the chickens would mount following a corn trail which would make the de-heading a lot more interesting. It was vetoed without serious consideration.The redeeming thing about chicken processing was the untold number of hours I spent just sitting in the shade of a building talking to Betty about life and faith. She was and is one of the most Godly people I have ever met. She truly cared about me and my well being. I could ask her anything and she had a gift of wisdom and compassion. The things she taught me those days doing chickens were worth all the boredom of chicken plucking. By the end of the summer, I had made some significant progress spiritually and personally. I used some of my earnings to buy a bred Hereford heifer. I took home the rest of my loot on a Greyhound Bus that took almost two days to get to Wapato, after an overnight stopover in Spokane. I would be entering Wapato High School that Fall and I was committed to living a Godly life and doing all things to the glory of God.
I have my second R-CHOP tomorrow. It is a 6-7 hour process and I'm not looking forward to it. Hopefully my PICC line will work for the infusions and everything will go smoothly. I am starting to lose my hair. It comes out in clumps. I told our daughter Cleo that I am starting to look like a dog with mange. I may just shave it all off to get it over with. Cleo is saving some of it to make a bird's nest. I told her to make it big enough for a Robin's nest, she got a kick out of that. I am hearing from brothers and sisters that they have received their blood sample kits from the SCCA. They will get those sent back in and then we will find out who is a possible stem cell donor match. I will have a PET scan within 3 weeks to see how effective the R-CHOP has been. That's when I will have to go back to Seattle and make decisions about the timing for the Stem Cell Transplant. There are some big decisions surrounding all of those details, and we would appreciate your prayers for wisdom and discernment. We weaned the 2010 calf crop yesterday. The mother cows don't seem too stressed about it all. The calves are in the feedlot next to the barn and are already munching on hay through the feeder panels. They will need their second shot in two weeks for all their post weaning vaccinations. Bud Bier is putting up our final 16 acres of feeder hay this week. So far, the weather is co-operating and that will wrap up all our 2010 farm work. We sold some grass horse hay last week and got more hay stored in the barn for winter. Being home has given us a chance to get all the regular things done that need to be done before winter. The cows will be out on pasture for another 6-7 weeks before we will have to think about supplementing their feed rations. Cleo will have to round up some help to take care of that over the winter. Kriss is looking forward to leaving her crutches behind in less than two weeks. I would like to share with you the story of a special man who walked on crutches for 21 years, from 1641-1662.
Blaise Pascal was born June 19, 1623. His mother died when he was three years old. When he was eight, his father moved with his three children to Paris, France so that he could better care for them and provide the best opportuities for an education. He knew that Blaise was a gifted child. When the author Chateaubriand met him for the first time, he described Blaise as "un effrayant genie", a frightening genius. Desiring Blaise to have a more classical education, his father forbade him from studying mathematics. That minor impediment did not stop Pascal from learning on his own. By the time he was 11 years old, he surrepticiously had a paper published on the creation of sound and sound waves, based on his secret study of mathematical principles. His father relented and enrolled him with the greatest mathematicians of his day. By the age of 12, he had mastered the 33 original propositions of Euclide. His fame intensified with his publication, at 16 years of age, of an essay on cones and conical properties.
His father worked for the government calculating tax and interest fees. It was a job he could do at home so he could be with his children as much as possible. However, he often would work through the night doing all these minute calculations. Blaise created "la machine arithmetique", or a device that could make those calculations which would become the precusor to all modern calculators and computors. It made his father's work feasible, given the time he had available. By this time his family had moved to Rouen. Following an accident in which he broke his leg, Blaise's father needed in home medical care. It was provided by two caregivers who had recently been converted to the teachings of Jansenism, an offshoot of Catholicism that melded teachings of Augustine and Calvin. The entire family was converted and Blaise came to the conclusion that the ultimate goal in life was not the acquistion of truth, but the inculcation of holiness. Tragically, Blaise had fallen victim to early onset tuberculosis when he was 18 years old. He would have to use crutches for the next 21 years until his death in 1662. Rather than becoming embittered by his limitations, Pascal used his suffering as a launch pad in order to focus more fully on the sicknesses of his soul. He wrote an essay entitled: "Prayer to God - How to Best Learn From Affliction". From 18 on, he would never live a day without physical pain and misery. He is a living testimony to all of us about overcoming great obstacles.
Despite his physical limitations, it seemed to magnify his intellectual and spiritual gifts. Pascal had an unique view of science and religion. Theology was a "science, or source of knowledge based on the authority of revealed truth in Holy Scripture". Emperical Science was "based on human reason and scientific experimentation that led to 'connaissance' deep understanding". In his vast mind and view of the world, he was able to reconcile his religious convictions with his world changing scientific contributions. He rejected all authority, both ecclesiastical and intellectual that refused to embrace new understandings and progress. His secular resume is without equal. His studies on "le vide", or vacuum, led to the creation of the first barometer and such practical devices as the hypodermic syringe. Ultimately he would establish the foundational principles of hydraulics, infinitesimal calculus, theories of probability and vast theological insights. Equally, he would put into practice his biblical convictions in the creation of a form of public transportation for the poor by purchasing, from his own resources, wagons and teams to make circular routes to safely transport workers to and from places of employment. The streets of Paris were plagued by reckless aristocrats travelling in large carriages that maimed and killed untold numbers of pedestrians, usually the poor and halt. Blaise felt he was supernatually saved from one such incident while traversing a bridge in Paris and barely escaped death or further physical impariment.
As with all human beings, Pascal experienced his own wanderings in the wilderness. Following the death of his father in 1651, Blaise struggled with a crisis of faith and identity. His father had been the foundation stone that stabilized his entire life. How could he live without that stability and security? He went through a period of secularism and public acclaim. He was a favorite among the salon devotees and he embraced a new philosophy of life that sought to understand the world through instinct and calculated behavior. He provided for his new admirers ideas on beating the odds at gambling, which made him very welcome and popular, indeed. He eventually, however, would be drawn back into the fellowship of the faithful. Monday, November 23, 1654 between the hours of 10:30 pm and 12:30 am, Blaise would describe in minute detail an encounter with the living God. Words like certitude, joy, peace and total submission would highlight his response to this encounter. He summorizes this experience by stating: "Eternally in joy as a result of one day of spiritual awareness in this world. Non obliviscar sermones tuos "I will never forget your promises". Amen.
Rededicated to his love for God and his passion to serve others, Pascal would consecrate the rest of his life to writing Christian treatises, debating opponents of Jansenism, and hiding out after he and his teachings were banned by the Papal authorities. Nearing the end of his life, he continued to show mercy and love. He gave a mother with a sick child his home, so she could properly care for her family. He had his sister place him in the paupers home for the terminally ill so he could die amidst the poor. On his deathbed, his greatest regret was that he had not done enough to alleviate the sufferings of the poorest of the poor.
Looking at the short 39 year life of Blaise Pascal, one sees the process of christian sanctification. It did not originate with Blaise Pascal. He would be the first to declare that it was all by grace and the free gift of God. He would be very content today, knowing that almost all of Christendom knows little or nothing about him personally. but benefits daily from his great knowledge and contributions to the world. His was a heart dedicated to loving and serving both God and humanity. If you ever travel to Stockholm, Sweden, visit the Royal Museum and there you will find the perfected Calculating Machine Pascal made for Queen Christine of Sweden around 1652. He is a living testimony of the faithfulness of God and the fruitfulness of lives that seek to honor God using the talents and abilities God provides. My own journey towards sanctification is very modest and far from complete. Nevertheless, my first summer working in Alberta was a jump-start on that path of holiness and sanctificaiton.
MEDICINE HAT, ALBERTA, CANADA SUMMER OF 1966
One of the first reality checks I received after being on brother Noel's cattle ranch for only a couple of days, was my language. Noel took me aside shortly upon my arrival and asked firmly and bluntly, if I would clean up my language around his two young sons. Well, I had been making a sincere and conscious effort to not use any words that would be offensive, but it seems it wasn't good enough. "Gosh darn", "Shoot", "Son of a gun" and other seemingly innoculous phrases were just thinly disguised replacements for their sinful cousins. I would have to learn a whole new way of talking, and I did. The first Saturday I was there was shopping in town day. It was starting to warm up and I put on a pair of cut-off pants to go to town. Noel flatly said he wouldn't be caught dead being seen with someone wearing cut off pants to town, so I could choose to change clothes, or stay home alone. Reality check #2. Sunday, of course, was a day of worship and rest. I had no idea that it would be taken so literally or consistently. Going to church was a cultural, as well as a spiritual shock. Boy and girls were segregated in separate classrooms, even for high school students. What a bummer. Noel and Betty attended a Church with a "holiness" origin and it wasn't anything like the Presbyterian worship services I was accustomed to attending. It could last long past the normal hour of 12 noon and it got pretty emotional at times. Returning home, we had a great lunch that Betty had mostly prepared the day before and then I was informed that it was time to rest, meaning FOB, flat on bed. I wasn't used to doing nothing on Sunday and I tried to argue my way around this new reality, but to no avail. The clincher was after nap time, we had a very light snack and headed back into town for evening worship. What a shock to my system to find out that going to church in the morning was just the prelude to the real service that took place in the evening. This was a praise and testimony service where people were expected to get up and share what God was doing in their lives and world. It could go on forever. After less than a week, I would have probably headed back home, but I had no way of getting there.
The details of my employment were that I was to work 6 days a week for $5 a day, plus room and board. It was better money and food than I could have earned back in Wapato, and Noel wouldn't pay me until the end of the summer, so I wouldn't be tempted to foolishly spend any of it. Week two brought another crisis. I received a letter saturated with perfume and covered with lipstick imprints of lucious lips back in Wapato. Betty was sincerely shocked that any self-respecting girl would send such a letter. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't so sure she was that self-respecting, but she let me have the letter in spite of her doubts about my moral character. Within two weeks the letters stopped. I'll never know if Betty confiscated the letters, or I was just another victim of short term romance and long distance forgetfulness. I grieved about a day or two and decided I was probably better off unattached for the moment. Slowly, God began to change my attitude and behavior. I actually started to listen in church and I met some really sincere believers who loved God and weren't ashamed to admit it.
Work on the ranch turned into a routine of irrigating, harvesting hay, fixing fence, working cattle and feeding chickens. It was those 500 chickens that changed my life for good. Betty raised these meat chickens to sell to customers in town in order to buy things for the family that she needed and wanted. About the hottest time of the summer, she told me that it was time to process the chickens. Now, I had helped my family butcher chickens back in North Dakota, but this was a serious number of chickens to process and I dreaded the smell of wet chicken feathers and warm entrails for two weeks. Every day we had to reach our goal of 50 chickens in order to be finished in two working weeks. It started at the crack of dawn. Heating water for scaulding, catching 50 chickens, removing the heads and stacking them up for dipping in the scaulding water and then we got to pluck every stinking feather and then "clean" them, or remove all the entrails. Final work was to singe off any chicken hair, wash them and put them in bags for the freezer. It took all day. I dreamed about chickens every night. I saw chicken feathers even when there weren't any. I could tell you everything about chicken anatomy in minute detail. To relieve the boredom, I thought about inventing an automatic guillotine devise the chickens would mount following a corn trail which would make the de-heading a lot more interesting. It was vetoed without serious consideration.The redeeming thing about chicken processing was the untold number of hours I spent just sitting in the shade of a building talking to Betty about life and faith. She was and is one of the most Godly people I have ever met. She truly cared about me and my well being. I could ask her anything and she had a gift of wisdom and compassion. The things she taught me those days doing chickens were worth all the boredom of chicken plucking. By the end of the summer, I had made some significant progress spiritually and personally. I used some of my earnings to buy a bred Hereford heifer. I took home the rest of my loot on a Greyhound Bus that took almost two days to get to Wapato, after an overnight stopover in Spokane. I would be entering Wapato High School that Fall and I was committed to living a Godly life and doing all things to the glory of God.
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