These are the words that Elder Peggy Cox shared at the memorial service for my dad July 3, 2011. Our thanks to Peggy for her openness and love.
"Robin had a gift of speaking with everyone around him and a gift of listening close enough to hear their need. As he was undergoing cancer treatment at St. Mary’s Medical Center he spoke with many of the other patients there and became aware that many of the people who drove to Walla Walla each day to have treatment chose to drive home in the afternoons only to return the following day because they could not afford the cost of staying in Walla Walla on top of the other costs of the treatment.
He came to the session meeting in November 2009 with a vision for a house that the church owned. He wanted to renovate it and allow patients of the cancer center to stay in it free of charge while they were here for treatments. He knew it would be a huge financial burden lifted from the patients who were generally exhausted and sometimes nauseated after the treatments.
I also knew how important the house would be to other cancer patients and their families, since my sister Pam had spent months in a Ronald McDonald house in Denver in 2008 while her 7 year old daughter Erin underwent cancer treatment for a brain tumor. So I volunteered to help with the renovation.
Judy Holloway and I became the coordinators of the transformation. We were given a budget of $5000 to begin the project. We walked through the house taking notes of the major things that needed accomplished… all the plumbing needs to be replaced, no furnace-existing heaters had mouse nests in them, bathroom walls were rotten, windows need replaced, needs new carpet and linoleum throughout house, needs new kitchen including cabinets and appliances, spiral staircase to attic removed, interior and exterior painted, new back porch including roof, new fence. As we walked back out of the house we did not have a warm fuzzy feeling about making it into a home. It was overwhelming at first for both of us.
But as we began making the calls to have professionals come and look at plumbing, and heating, we were amazed at the excitement and generosity of people to be a part of the project. Robin’s enthusiasm soon spread throughout the congregation. Every time someone else would call us with a donation of another item we needed we just shook our heads in amazement of God’s provision and watched the house being changed before our eyes.
During the time that I was helping with the house, my niece passed away. After a couple months, when I returned to working on the house, I had one of the volunteers tell me that it was good therapy for me to work on the house to help me through the hard time of grieving for Erin. They were right. We knew that the people using the house after completion would be blessed, but little did we realize that each of the volunteers would be blessed as they came to help with the project. The friends we made, the skills we learned, the laughs we shared filled the house with memories.
Robin left for Seattle in August of 2010 to begin his treatment there. Our group continued rain or shine to work diligently on the house. Focused work days brought in more volunteers to help! The volunteers ranged from 9-75 years old. Our goal was to have the house done when he got home in November.
Robin’s treatment plan was changed so he came home in September. He would stop by the house every day for a progress report usually after his treatment at St. Mary’s. There were days that he said he was not feeling very well at all, but he was so excited to see the house taking shape. I looked forward to his daily visits so I could see that he was okay enduring his treatments. If he stopped by and I had already left for the day he would call me at home to check in with me. He enjoyed knowing that yet again he had used his gift of seeing potential in people to grow another Christian leader in our church by watching me work outside my comfort zone on leading this project. He started every conversation with "General Cox", and he left messages on my answering machine addressing me as General Cox. I would only chuckle at his comment.
On October 24, 2010 he dedicated the house now known as the Wasser House and its ministry.
He used the verse from Haggai 2:9 in his sermon in November 7, 2010 -- “The GLORY of this present House will be Greater than the GLORY of the former House, and in this Place I will grant PEACE,” Declares the LORD Almighty."
The next day he came to the Wasser house and said he thought that verse spoke about the house and he wanted it displayed. We printed the verse and had it framed and placed it on the living room wall where it still hangs today.
On November 15, 2010 one year after he came before the session with his vision for the house, we handed over keys to St. Mary’s for the first family to use the house.
Pastor Robin’s prayer for the house was that God would use the beauty, charm and love that transformed the house to encourage and bless the families that will occupy it for years to come and that the guests will feel God’s nearness and find both physical and spiritual healing as they share in life together with us, their neighbors, at College Place Presbyterian Church.
Robin knew he could not take away the pain and heartache of the journey these people were on, but he did know that he could give them a little hope when they needed it by having a place to call their home away from home.
After the house was structurally ready for guests, we began getting furniture donated to fill each room. The end result for the decorating theme was jokingly described as: Egyptian Renaissance. Which is fitting since it truly will be a place and time for renaissance; for revival!
Volunteers from our church came forward who wanted to clean the house on a weekly basis, to meet with the new guests as they came to town for treatment and to make meals or baked goods for the people as they underwent their treatment. Robin’s dream was realized. Robin definitely treated the people as neighbors, checking in with them during treatment or in the evenings. I agree with what the first family said “This house is a blessing. And Robin… he is heaven sent. I think he is an angel in disguise.”
The house has been used on a regular basis since the day we turned over the keys to St. Mary’s in November 2010. The guests have stayed an average of 8 weeks at a time in the house. The third family just finished their treatment and left their “home away from home”.
This quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson describes Robin’s rule for his life:
"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Leaving a Legacy
July 3, 2011
College Place, WA
This is the sermon I delivered at my Father's Memorial Service on July 3rd. It was a wonderful day and a beautiful celebration of his life and ministry at the College Place Presbyterian Church for over 30 years. Thank you to all 500+ who attended and for those of you unable to attend, here is a brief sample of some of the wonderful, inspiring words shared in the service.
"Leaving a Legacy"
How can you measure a man’s life? Do you look at his accomplishments? Do you look at his family? What is the legacy he has left behind? My father was a worker. The Peterson family value is hard work. Many families have different ways of enjoying each other’s company… we worked. Hard. Dad even made up a song for us, “Mad dogs and Petersons go out in the midday sun.” Our family bonding took place over sprinkler pipes and broken-down tractors, onion bins and animals. I’m not surprised that God took him home before he was 60. In those few years he did the work of 3 men. One of his favorite sayings was, “A lot of men could, but not many would,” after having accomplished some incredible feat of strength and hard work. He also loved the adage, “Work smarter, not harder”, although he just worked harder anyway. He didn’t look like he could out work everyone in the field, but he did. He was so incredibly strong that we called him the “Incredible Bulk”. He never turned green.
He was always approachable. People were drawn to him. His smile and his manner were welcoming. My Aunt Pat told me a story that people have always treated him this way. Even as a baby, people loved him. Being the youngest of 13 children in North Dakota, there was not a lotof money to go around. So there weren’t many pictures of him, but there were a few. They sent a couple of photos to Aunt Pat who was working in New York as a nurse. She was dating a doctor who didn’t have any siblings and when he saw the picture of dad in a little sideways baseball cap, he asked her if he could have it. He told her he never had a little brother and that was the cutest kid he had ever seen. Aunt Pat said, “Well, I have 9 little brothers, so you can share one of them!” Years later, when she met him again, he still had that picture of dad in his wallet, his little brother. “People always loved him, for his whole life.” Aunt Pat said.
As the youngest, he wanted to be like his older brothers and sisters. They would play school with him and on the first day of first grade he already knew how to read and write, add and subtract and his multiplication tables. He was so bored that while the poor teacher of the one-room schoolhouse was busy teaching the older kids, little Robin was wandering around the classroom visiting his brothers and sisters. She got so frustrated with him that she tied his shoelaces to the chair to keep him in place and instead of staying put; he just took off his shoes. He was sent home with a note and that meant a severe punishment. The solution to the problem was that Grandma took a teaching job in another school and took dad and Aunt Kathy with her. She could teach him whatever he was ready to learn and he would mind her because it was his mother. He was a little spoiled that way. He got his own children’s books. He didn’t have his own new pair of shoes until he was 6 years old, but he had books to read. Grandma always wanted to go to Bible college and was thrilled that finally the last of her children was going to study the Bible.
He loved us. He was our softball coach, our soccer coach, our personal trainer, our mentor. He wanted us to achieve great things. He believed the best in others. He loved sports. He loved music. He loved teams and working together. He loved to tell stories and be the focus of attention. Maybe because he was the youngest of 13 kids, he had to get attention somehow. He loved sports and he supported and encouraged athletes of all ages to do their best and accomplish all they could. He was the self-appointed “chaplain” to the Wa-Hi wrestling team. It was his desire to help young men and women become the strong disciples of Jesus Christ that God desired them to be. He came to faith as a teenager at a Billy Graham crusade in Yakima and it transformed his life. He knew first-hand how important those teenage years can be to spiritual formation. He wasn’t one of those pastors who stayed inside the walls of the church expecting people to come to him. Whether it was at Camp Ghormley as the speaker or at a Blue Devil sporting event, at the hospital or the parts store, he went to where the people were and met them on their terms in their comfort zone and brought Jesus to them.
He lived his life to the fullest. He worked hard, he played hard, and if he ever sat down long enough, he slept hard, too. We have pictures of him holding each one of us kids and the grandkids and while the baby slept, so did he.
He loved the Blues Brothers and would often say, “We’re on a mission from God.” Even when he was in Seattle at the Cancer Care Alliance, he was ministering to the other patients and nurses and doctors there. He gave them bottles of wine and prayed for them. He brought Jesus to the cancer center, too. He had a passion for life and an unyielding faith in Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. He had a wonderful picture in his bedroom of a young man at the helm of a ship and Jesus Christ looking over his shoulder pointing the way to safety through the storm. This was the model of his life. I brought the picture to his hospital room and hung it on the wall so he would have that constant reminder and comfort that Christ was still guiding and directing and leading him every minute. Even when he suffered, he still reached people in ministry. He wrote his blogs to touch the lives of thousands of people with the saving message of Jesus Christ. He wanted to care for his congregation even in the midst of being absent physically; he was always the spiritual guide of this church. Christ is the head of the church and my father worked as His loving servant to shepherd this flock in their walk with Christ.
When my uncle suffered multiple strokes in January and February, dad wrote these words in his blog:
"Galatians 2:20: "I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives within me; and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me."
"That Jesus willingly went to the cross to conquer death is the rock that anchors my soul.
"Death in Christ is a miraculous and wonderful gift. To claim all the promises of the One who promises to be the Resurrection and the Life gives us a boldness and confidence to "surthrive" even human mortality. But the process of dying still sucks. It often hangs on to the vestiges of when it was the ultimate destiny of humanity and makes the process bitter and trying. Maybe that is part of what being crucified with Christ is all about: to share in physical pain, the loss of control and the releasing of our souls into the Hands of God may have some redemptive value we just can't see. At the end of that journey, however, I do know what awaits those who die in Christ. Twice in my baseball career I have been up to bat in the bottom of the last inning with the game on the line. If I struck out or made an out, we would lose. If I got a hit, particularly a home run, we would win. Miraculously, both times I hit a home run. Each time as I was rounding 2nd base I was suddenly grabbed by the entire team and hoisted on their shoulders and carried to third base and finally home. That is what dying in Christ is like. God's angels come swooping down and carry you home because you have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you are lifted up on eagle's wings and you go home."
These are my Father’s words of hope and assurance of faith. He wrote these words in the midst of grieving his brother, Tom. I can’t tell you why my dad died. I can’t tell you what went wrong. He had cancer. And cancer sucks. Cancer kills people. Even good people die of cancer. Sometimes God's healing takes the cancer away from the body and other times God heals by taking the body away from the cancer. I can tell you with confidence that God was glorified, even in his death. My father sacrificed his life to love and serve Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. And his last words to us were, “Tell the kids I love them. Tell the church I love them. All to the glory of God.” Even in his dying breath, he glorified God.
He didn’t want to die. He wanted to be here with all of us today. He wanted to blow out 60 candles on his German Chocolate birthday cake.
Even though we don’t understand, even though we shake our fists at heaven and ask, “Why God? Don’t you care that we lost this man that we love? Didn’t you hear our prayers? Don’t you care about us?” God says to us, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.” Those words were so important to my dad. He memorized them in Greek for crying out loud! We worship a God who loves us even more than my father did. We worship and serve a God who is holy and perfect. His timing is perfect. His will is made manifest in our lives. God is able to transform what cancer did for evil, God transforms for good.
As most of you know, dad loved the Celtic Women concerts on PBS. His favorite song was “You Raise Me Up”. The day he died, I brought DVDs of the concerts to play in his room and we played them over and over all day long. When he died, the song “You Raise Me Up” came on. It was as though God blessed us with the assurance that He had raised dad up to heaven in that moment. God gave us that blessing and comfort that dad didn’t have to suffer and fight with cancer anymore. He was raised up to a new life in a new resurrection body where there is no pain, or crying or hurt or cancer; where God wipes away every tear.
We miss you, daddy. We love you. But we know that you don’t have to fight any more. And for that, we are grateful. This world is not all there is, and my father has gone home on the shoulders of angels to hear those words we all long for, “well done, good and faithful servant.”
I remember dad saying, “When I die, I want a Dixieland band to play, “When the Saints Go Marching In”, because that day is going to be a celebration. I will be in heaven with Jesus.
College Place, WA
This is the sermon I delivered at my Father's Memorial Service on July 3rd. It was a wonderful day and a beautiful celebration of his life and ministry at the College Place Presbyterian Church for over 30 years. Thank you to all 500+ who attended and for those of you unable to attend, here is a brief sample of some of the wonderful, inspiring words shared in the service.
"Leaving a Legacy"
How can you measure a man’s life? Do you look at his accomplishments? Do you look at his family? What is the legacy he has left behind? My father was a worker. The Peterson family value is hard work. Many families have different ways of enjoying each other’s company… we worked. Hard. Dad even made up a song for us, “Mad dogs and Petersons go out in the midday sun.” Our family bonding took place over sprinkler pipes and broken-down tractors, onion bins and animals. I’m not surprised that God took him home before he was 60. In those few years he did the work of 3 men. One of his favorite sayings was, “A lot of men could, but not many would,” after having accomplished some incredible feat of strength and hard work. He also loved the adage, “Work smarter, not harder”, although he just worked harder anyway. He didn’t look like he could out work everyone in the field, but he did. He was so incredibly strong that we called him the “Incredible Bulk”. He never turned green.
He was always approachable. People were drawn to him. His smile and his manner were welcoming. My Aunt Pat told me a story that people have always treated him this way. Even as a baby, people loved him. Being the youngest of 13 children in North Dakota, there was not a lotof money to go around. So there weren’t many pictures of him, but there were a few. They sent a couple of photos to Aunt Pat who was working in New York as a nurse. She was dating a doctor who didn’t have any siblings and when he saw the picture of dad in a little sideways baseball cap, he asked her if he could have it. He told her he never had a little brother and that was the cutest kid he had ever seen. Aunt Pat said, “Well, I have 9 little brothers, so you can share one of them!” Years later, when she met him again, he still had that picture of dad in his wallet, his little brother. “People always loved him, for his whole life.” Aunt Pat said.
As the youngest, he wanted to be like his older brothers and sisters. They would play school with him and on the first day of first grade he already knew how to read and write, add and subtract and his multiplication tables. He was so bored that while the poor teacher of the one-room schoolhouse was busy teaching the older kids, little Robin was wandering around the classroom visiting his brothers and sisters. She got so frustrated with him that she tied his shoelaces to the chair to keep him in place and instead of staying put; he just took off his shoes. He was sent home with a note and that meant a severe punishment. The solution to the problem was that Grandma took a teaching job in another school and took dad and Aunt Kathy with her. She could teach him whatever he was ready to learn and he would mind her because it was his mother. He was a little spoiled that way. He got his own children’s books. He didn’t have his own new pair of shoes until he was 6 years old, but he had books to read. Grandma always wanted to go to Bible college and was thrilled that finally the last of her children was going to study the Bible.
He loved us. He was our softball coach, our soccer coach, our personal trainer, our mentor. He wanted us to achieve great things. He believed the best in others. He loved sports. He loved music. He loved teams and working together. He loved to tell stories and be the focus of attention. Maybe because he was the youngest of 13 kids, he had to get attention somehow. He loved sports and he supported and encouraged athletes of all ages to do their best and accomplish all they could. He was the self-appointed “chaplain” to the Wa-Hi wrestling team. It was his desire to help young men and women become the strong disciples of Jesus Christ that God desired them to be. He came to faith as a teenager at a Billy Graham crusade in Yakima and it transformed his life. He knew first-hand how important those teenage years can be to spiritual formation. He wasn’t one of those pastors who stayed inside the walls of the church expecting people to come to him. Whether it was at Camp Ghormley as the speaker or at a Blue Devil sporting event, at the hospital or the parts store, he went to where the people were and met them on their terms in their comfort zone and brought Jesus to them.
He lived his life to the fullest. He worked hard, he played hard, and if he ever sat down long enough, he slept hard, too. We have pictures of him holding each one of us kids and the grandkids and while the baby slept, so did he.
He loved the Blues Brothers and would often say, “We’re on a mission from God.” Even when he was in Seattle at the Cancer Care Alliance, he was ministering to the other patients and nurses and doctors there. He gave them bottles of wine and prayed for them. He brought Jesus to the cancer center, too. He had a passion for life and an unyielding faith in Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. He had a wonderful picture in his bedroom of a young man at the helm of a ship and Jesus Christ looking over his shoulder pointing the way to safety through the storm. This was the model of his life. I brought the picture to his hospital room and hung it on the wall so he would have that constant reminder and comfort that Christ was still guiding and directing and leading him every minute. Even when he suffered, he still reached people in ministry. He wrote his blogs to touch the lives of thousands of people with the saving message of Jesus Christ. He wanted to care for his congregation even in the midst of being absent physically; he was always the spiritual guide of this church. Christ is the head of the church and my father worked as His loving servant to shepherd this flock in their walk with Christ.
When my uncle suffered multiple strokes in January and February, dad wrote these words in his blog:
"Galatians 2:20: "I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives within me; and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me."
"That Jesus willingly went to the cross to conquer death is the rock that anchors my soul.
"Death in Christ is a miraculous and wonderful gift. To claim all the promises of the One who promises to be the Resurrection and the Life gives us a boldness and confidence to "surthrive" even human mortality. But the process of dying still sucks. It often hangs on to the vestiges of when it was the ultimate destiny of humanity and makes the process bitter and trying. Maybe that is part of what being crucified with Christ is all about: to share in physical pain, the loss of control and the releasing of our souls into the Hands of God may have some redemptive value we just can't see. At the end of that journey, however, I do know what awaits those who die in Christ. Twice in my baseball career I have been up to bat in the bottom of the last inning with the game on the line. If I struck out or made an out, we would lose. If I got a hit, particularly a home run, we would win. Miraculously, both times I hit a home run. Each time as I was rounding 2nd base I was suddenly grabbed by the entire team and hoisted on their shoulders and carried to third base and finally home. That is what dying in Christ is like. God's angels come swooping down and carry you home because you have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you are lifted up on eagle's wings and you go home."
These are my Father’s words of hope and assurance of faith. He wrote these words in the midst of grieving his brother, Tom. I can’t tell you why my dad died. I can’t tell you what went wrong. He had cancer. And cancer sucks. Cancer kills people. Even good people die of cancer. Sometimes God's healing takes the cancer away from the body and other times God heals by taking the body away from the cancer. I can tell you with confidence that God was glorified, even in his death. My father sacrificed his life to love and serve Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. And his last words to us were, “Tell the kids I love them. Tell the church I love them. All to the glory of God.” Even in his dying breath, he glorified God.
He didn’t want to die. He wanted to be here with all of us today. He wanted to blow out 60 candles on his German Chocolate birthday cake.
Even though we don’t understand, even though we shake our fists at heaven and ask, “Why God? Don’t you care that we lost this man that we love? Didn’t you hear our prayers? Don’t you care about us?” God says to us, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.” Those words were so important to my dad. He memorized them in Greek for crying out loud! We worship a God who loves us even more than my father did. We worship and serve a God who is holy and perfect. His timing is perfect. His will is made manifest in our lives. God is able to transform what cancer did for evil, God transforms for good.
As most of you know, dad loved the Celtic Women concerts on PBS. His favorite song was “You Raise Me Up”. The day he died, I brought DVDs of the concerts to play in his room and we played them over and over all day long. When he died, the song “You Raise Me Up” came on. It was as though God blessed us with the assurance that He had raised dad up to heaven in that moment. God gave us that blessing and comfort that dad didn’t have to suffer and fight with cancer anymore. He was raised up to a new life in a new resurrection body where there is no pain, or crying or hurt or cancer; where God wipes away every tear.
We miss you, daddy. We love you. But we know that you don’t have to fight any more. And for that, we are grateful. This world is not all there is, and my father has gone home on the shoulders of angels to hear those words we all long for, “well done, good and faithful servant.”
I remember dad saying, “When I die, I want a Dixieland band to play, “When the Saints Go Marching In”, because that day is going to be a celebration. I will be in heaven with Jesus.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Rev. Robin Kerry Peterson Obituary
Robin Kerry Peterson was born in Beach, North Dakota, June 30, 1951, to Joye Obert Peterson and Ruth Francis Woodard Peterson. He always claimed to be lucky # 13, as the last of 13 children. Robin attended the one-room schoolhouse, the Lapla Rural School, near the ancestral home. On his first day of first grade, he could already read and write and knew his multiplication tables, so he was sent home with a note that he had been a terrible disruption in the one-room schoolhouse visiting with his older sisters and brothers. So much so, that the teacher tied his shoelaces to his desk and he simply took them off.
His Mother, Ruth Woodard Peterson, had returned to Dickinson State College in the late 1950s to obtain a teaching certificate and ultimately a degree in Library Science. Robin and his older sister, Kathy, moved with her to a small rural school in Little Beaver Creek, North Dakota, when Ruth received a job teaching at a one-room school. The family moved to Watford City, North Dakota, in 1959 and Robin had to adjust to town living. Ruth was offered the position of Head Librarian at Wapato High School in 1962 and the remaining children living at home made the pilgrimage from North Dakota to the Yakima Valley. Robin was just entering Junior High School at that time and made the best of another disruption of friends and setting. He was an extremely talented musician, playing the trombone in Wapato High School Band, Orchestra and the infamous “Coherents” Dance Band. He was a talented athlete and excelled in both basketball and tennis. He was an exceptional student, and chose to attend Eisenhower High School in Yakima for his senior year in order to focus on studies and eliminate the distraction of sports. He graduated in 1969 from Eisenhower High School and enrolled in Yakima Valley Community College where he played tennis for the Yaks.
Robin studied at the French University in Aix-en-Provence in southern France in 1971. While there, he played on the University basketball team along with a few other American students. They called themselves “The All-Americans” and made it all the way to the national championship in Paris. He came home for Christmas vacation and married Kristie Kathleen Kwak in Harrah, Washington, on December 30, 1971. They spent their first 6 months of marriage in France. He graduated from Western Washington University in 1973 with a Bachelor of Arts in French Education. He attended Regent College in Vancouver, B.C. and earned a Masters in Christian Education. They moved back to Harrah to work on Kriss’ family farm. While there, daughter Hanna Kathleen was born in Toppenish September 14, 1975. Robin was asked to serve as Interim Pastor for the Wapato Community Presbyterian Church. He also taught French at Yakima Valley Community College during those years while deciding which Seminary to attend. Son, Amos Kerry, was born in Yakima on August 6, 1977. Six weeks after Amos’ birth, the family moved to Pasadena, California, to attend Fuller Theological Seminary. He graduated from Fuller with a Master of Divinity Degree in 1978. He was enrolled in the PhD program at Fuller and expected to return after the summer break. God had other plans for him and he was called to serve the Presbyterian Church in College Place.
Robin began his ministry at College Place Presbyterian Church Labor Day weekend, 1978. He was ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church, USA, at Wapato Community Presbyterian Church and Installed as Pastor at College Place Presbyterian church in January 1979. Daughters Ella Kristeen was born June 7, 1981, and Cleo Kristienne was born February 12, 1983, in Walla Walla. He served the congregation faithfully for over 30 years. He was a blessing to the community and officiated at weddings and funerals for hundreds of people. He never met a stranger and was a friend to all. His passion for sharing the love of Jesus and his devotion to Christ was evident in all he said and did. He gave sacrificially of his time and effort to the people of the Walla Walla Valley. He taught French Language at Whitman College as a visiting professor for several years and was even known to climb on top of the desk in true Robin Williams’ fashion (Dead Poet’s Society style) in order to help his students have a different perspective on the world. He loved Walla Walla Blue Devil High School Athletics and never missed a basketball or football game, tennis or wrestling match. He showed his love for people of all ages by supporting their interests and activities. He shared the love of Jesus with any and every one in the example of Christ by walking alongside them through their lives.
Growing up on a farm in North Dakota, the land was always in his heart. He bought a 65 acre farm near Whitman Mission in 1990. He raised sheep for many years as well as Walla Walla Sweet Onions and served as the Walla Walla Sweet Onion Growers Association President at one point. He raised beef cattle and horses and put up alfalfa and grass hay. The connection to the land was grounding for him. He loved to spend hours on a tractor talking to God. He walked through the cows and horses every day and felt a powerful connection to God through nature. He believed that God calls us to be good stewards of all creation and raising healthy animals was his way of fulfilling God’s command.
Robin loved his children deeply and cherished his grandchildren. He wouldn’t say he was proud of them because pride is a sin. Instead, he would say he “took great delight in his children” and that “with them he was well pleased”. He was a man who knew the value of hard work. He instilled that work ethic in his children and expected great things from them as he did himself. We all miss him terribly and will strive to be worthy of his delight. We love you, Dad.
Robin was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2006. He underwent years of radiation and chemo-therapy and continued to serve his congregation throughout his physical trials. In May 2010, his lymphoma changed from a slow-growing to aggressive type. He came under care of the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance in August and prepared for a stem-cell transplant. His daughter, Hanna, provided his donor stem-cells and the transplant was successful on 1/11/11. He fought valiantly to overcome the scourge of cancer. He developed Graft vs. Host Disease from the transplant and suffered from pneumonia. After six weeks in the University of Washington Medical Center, the Lord took him home peacefully, surrounded by his family and close friends on May 17, 2011. His last words to us were, “Tell the kids I love them. Tell the congregation I love them. All to the glory of God.”
Memorial contributions may be sent to the College Place Presbyterian Church for the upkeep and ministry of the Wasser House Cancer Respite home at: 325 NE Damson, College Place, WA 99324.
Robin was preceded in death by his parents and four siblings, two in infancy, and his brothers Charles & Tom Peterson. He is survived by his wife, Kriss Peterson, and his children, Rev. Hanna Peterson of Kelso, WA; Cpt. Amos Peterson, DVM, of Colorado Springs, CO, and his wife Lindsey and their two children Rhona and Thorsten; Ella Peterson Brown and her husband, Christopher, of Portland, OR; and Cleo Peterson of Seattle, WA. He is also survived by eight living siblings; Patsy Joann Pagiotas, Clifton Park, NY; Earl B. Peterson, Bozeman, MT; Noel E. Peterson, Alberta, Canada; Jan M. Peterson, West Yellowstone, MT; Harvey L. Peterson, Beach, ND; Dan E. Peterson, Bismark, ND; Ophie Hart, Palmer, AK; and Alice Kathleen Peterson, Newton, IA. Numerous nieces and nephews and their offspring round out Robin’s family who will miss him dearly.
His burial will take place in Walla Walla on Friday, May 27th, at 3:00 p.m. at Blue Mountain Memorial Gardens. A Celebration of Robin’s life will be held Sunday, July 3rd at 3pm in College Place, WA.
His Mother, Ruth Woodard Peterson, had returned to Dickinson State College in the late 1950s to obtain a teaching certificate and ultimately a degree in Library Science. Robin and his older sister, Kathy, moved with her to a small rural school in Little Beaver Creek, North Dakota, when Ruth received a job teaching at a one-room school. The family moved to Watford City, North Dakota, in 1959 and Robin had to adjust to town living. Ruth was offered the position of Head Librarian at Wapato High School in 1962 and the remaining children living at home made the pilgrimage from North Dakota to the Yakima Valley. Robin was just entering Junior High School at that time and made the best of another disruption of friends and setting. He was an extremely talented musician, playing the trombone in Wapato High School Band, Orchestra and the infamous “Coherents” Dance Band. He was a talented athlete and excelled in both basketball and tennis. He was an exceptional student, and chose to attend Eisenhower High School in Yakima for his senior year in order to focus on studies and eliminate the distraction of sports. He graduated in 1969 from Eisenhower High School and enrolled in Yakima Valley Community College where he played tennis for the Yaks.
Robin studied at the French University in Aix-en-Provence in southern France in 1971. While there, he played on the University basketball team along with a few other American students. They called themselves “The All-Americans” and made it all the way to the national championship in Paris. He came home for Christmas vacation and married Kristie Kathleen Kwak in Harrah, Washington, on December 30, 1971. They spent their first 6 months of marriage in France. He graduated from Western Washington University in 1973 with a Bachelor of Arts in French Education. He attended Regent College in Vancouver, B.C. and earned a Masters in Christian Education. They moved back to Harrah to work on Kriss’ family farm. While there, daughter Hanna Kathleen was born in Toppenish September 14, 1975. Robin was asked to serve as Interim Pastor for the Wapato Community Presbyterian Church. He also taught French at Yakima Valley Community College during those years while deciding which Seminary to attend. Son, Amos Kerry, was born in Yakima on August 6, 1977. Six weeks after Amos’ birth, the family moved to Pasadena, California, to attend Fuller Theological Seminary. He graduated from Fuller with a Master of Divinity Degree in 1978. He was enrolled in the PhD program at Fuller and expected to return after the summer break. God had other plans for him and he was called to serve the Presbyterian Church in College Place.
Robin began his ministry at College Place Presbyterian Church Labor Day weekend, 1978. He was ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church, USA, at Wapato Community Presbyterian Church and Installed as Pastor at College Place Presbyterian church in January 1979. Daughters Ella Kristeen was born June 7, 1981, and Cleo Kristienne was born February 12, 1983, in Walla Walla. He served the congregation faithfully for over 30 years. He was a blessing to the community and officiated at weddings and funerals for hundreds of people. He never met a stranger and was a friend to all. His passion for sharing the love of Jesus and his devotion to Christ was evident in all he said and did. He gave sacrificially of his time and effort to the people of the Walla Walla Valley. He taught French Language at Whitman College as a visiting professor for several years and was even known to climb on top of the desk in true Robin Williams’ fashion (Dead Poet’s Society style) in order to help his students have a different perspective on the world. He loved Walla Walla Blue Devil High School Athletics and never missed a basketball or football game, tennis or wrestling match. He showed his love for people of all ages by supporting their interests and activities. He shared the love of Jesus with any and every one in the example of Christ by walking alongside them through their lives.
Growing up on a farm in North Dakota, the land was always in his heart. He bought a 65 acre farm near Whitman Mission in 1990. He raised sheep for many years as well as Walla Walla Sweet Onions and served as the Walla Walla Sweet Onion Growers Association President at one point. He raised beef cattle and horses and put up alfalfa and grass hay. The connection to the land was grounding for him. He loved to spend hours on a tractor talking to God. He walked through the cows and horses every day and felt a powerful connection to God through nature. He believed that God calls us to be good stewards of all creation and raising healthy animals was his way of fulfilling God’s command.
Robin loved his children deeply and cherished his grandchildren. He wouldn’t say he was proud of them because pride is a sin. Instead, he would say he “took great delight in his children” and that “with them he was well pleased”. He was a man who knew the value of hard work. He instilled that work ethic in his children and expected great things from them as he did himself. We all miss him terribly and will strive to be worthy of his delight. We love you, Dad.
Robin was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2006. He underwent years of radiation and chemo-therapy and continued to serve his congregation throughout his physical trials. In May 2010, his lymphoma changed from a slow-growing to aggressive type. He came under care of the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance in August and prepared for a stem-cell transplant. His daughter, Hanna, provided his donor stem-cells and the transplant was successful on 1/11/11. He fought valiantly to overcome the scourge of cancer. He developed Graft vs. Host Disease from the transplant and suffered from pneumonia. After six weeks in the University of Washington Medical Center, the Lord took him home peacefully, surrounded by his family and close friends on May 17, 2011. His last words to us were, “Tell the kids I love them. Tell the congregation I love them. All to the glory of God.”
Memorial contributions may be sent to the College Place Presbyterian Church for the upkeep and ministry of the Wasser House Cancer Respite home at: 325 NE Damson, College Place, WA 99324.
Robin was preceded in death by his parents and four siblings, two in infancy, and his brothers Charles & Tom Peterson. He is survived by his wife, Kriss Peterson, and his children, Rev. Hanna Peterson of Kelso, WA; Cpt. Amos Peterson, DVM, of Colorado Springs, CO, and his wife Lindsey and their two children Rhona and Thorsten; Ella Peterson Brown and her husband, Christopher, of Portland, OR; and Cleo Peterson of Seattle, WA. He is also survived by eight living siblings; Patsy Joann Pagiotas, Clifton Park, NY; Earl B. Peterson, Bozeman, MT; Noel E. Peterson, Alberta, Canada; Jan M. Peterson, West Yellowstone, MT; Harvey L. Peterson, Beach, ND; Dan E. Peterson, Bismark, ND; Ophie Hart, Palmer, AK; and Alice Kathleen Peterson, Newton, IA. Numerous nieces and nephews and their offspring round out Robin’s family who will miss him dearly.
His burial will take place in Walla Walla on Friday, May 27th, at 3:00 p.m. at Blue Mountain Memorial Gardens. A Celebration of Robin’s life will be held Sunday, July 3rd at 3pm in College Place, WA.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Going Home
My father died today. Those of you who have lost a parent know how difficult this is. You understand the enormous hole you feel in your soul. I am now among the "fatherless". We met with the doctors yesterday and discussed the future of his treatment. The prognosis for recovering from his pneumonia was only about 20%. The only way to determine what was really causing the pneumonia was a surgical procedure to take a sample of lung tissue. In order to do this, they would need to intubate him and he might not come off the ventilator. This was not an acceptable treatment for us. My dad had walked with too many families who had to make the terrible decision about terminating treatment and "pull the plug" on a loved-one. He always told us that he never wanted that situation. Especially after walking through that situation only months ago with my Uncle Tom, it was not something he was willing to go through. The doctors were a little surprised at our answer, but in the end, we made the correct choice. My Aunt Kathy is here and she stayed the night with him in the hospital. He called us at 4am and asked us to come back so that he could say goodbye. Aunt Kathy said he spent a good deal of the night talking and praying. He was making peace with his Lord. When we arrived, he told me that I would have to do the services (for him and my uncle). I told him I would be fine. It would be what he wanted. He just couldn't think about it right then. He told mom he loved her. "Tell the kids I love them. Tell the congregation I love them." We said we would. Then he said, "All for the glory of God."
This was the theme of his life. Everything to the glory of God his Father Almighty. My father was not perfect. He was impatient and quick to get angry. But he loved Jesus. He wanted everyone he met to know and love Jesus, too. He was a good man. And now he is resting in the arms of Jesus. Thank you for loving my dad. Thank you for your words of encouragement. In the most difficult days of his life he looked to you, his readers, for encouragement and purpose. He wanted to know that he left a legacy. His legacy is in you. Make a difference in the lives of others. Share Jesus with those around you.
This was the theme of his life. Everything to the glory of God his Father Almighty. My father was not perfect. He was impatient and quick to get angry. But he loved Jesus. He wanted everyone he met to know and love Jesus, too. He was a good man. And now he is resting in the arms of Jesus. Thank you for loving my dad. Thank you for your words of encouragement. In the most difficult days of his life he looked to you, his readers, for encouragement and purpose. He wanted to know that he left a legacy. His legacy is in you. Make a difference in the lives of others. Share Jesus with those around you.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Six Weeks and Counting
May 15, 2011
Hello All, this is a message from Kriss (Robin's wife) and Hanna (his daughter). It has been a long time since Robin has written and we know this has been hard on his readers. Hopefully this blog entry will give some explanation and let you know how things are going with him. It is our fervent hope that he will improve quickly and be up to writing again soon.
Yesterday was the beginning of week six of Robin's most recent bout in the hospital. He was admitted to the University of Washington Medical Center from the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance infusion floor on Friday, April 8th, with a lung infection from the para-influenza 3 virus and severe gut issues from resurfacing GVHD/CMV and the Noro virus. Late afternoon on Thursday, April 28, he became very agitated and short of breath after they did an upper and lower GI trying to determine what was the cause of his continued diarrhea. He continued to have escalating problems with breathing, pain in his left side, and some confusion that he needed constant nursing care and observation. A variety of doctors, nurses, pulmonary and respiratory technicians cycled in and out of his room all night long working to get him stabilized. On Friday, April 29, when they had a bed available, they moved him into the transplant ICU unit. He was very sleepy most of the time in ICU. The pneumonia is concentrated in his left lung but is very severe. It isn't getting better or worse; which is good that it isn't continuing to decline. He is working very hard at breathing with an average of 69% oxygen supplement. This puts stress on his heart and he has some arrhythmia. This seems to have cleared up slightly.
As his own private Cinco de Mayo celebration, he was transferred to a regular transplant room and out of ICU protocols on Thursday, May 5th. It is encouraging to have him out of ICU, but even if he improves significantly, he is still looking at several more weeks in the hospital. He is very weak. He is more awake and alert, but doesn’t have the strength to walk and barely gets out of bed to the chair. Late Friday night he had an MRI and Saturday morning they did a bronchoscopy to try and find the culprit causing the pneumonia. On the chest CT Thursday, they saw a new development in the right lung as well as the left lung’s ongoing problems. He occasionally has a coughing episode when he tries to talk very much so phone calls are sometimes tricky. We all feel a bit like the turtle in the race, but hopefully progress is slow and steady. Robin is eating a bit more, but not much of anything. He seems fairly comfortable, but we can only imagine how it feels to be constantly force-fed pills, poked and prodded and surrounded by mask-clad beings. We hope he'll get back more of an appetite soon. That seems to be the best indication that progress is being achieved.
All the kids have been here to visit recently which is always a boost. Daughter Ella and son-in-law Chris were here over the Mother’s Day weekend. Son Amos came for a visit May 9th through 11th. Daughter Hanna comes up for a couple of days whenever she can and daughter Cleo pops in from time to time after classes at Seattle University. Kriss is able to print off emails and bring cards in as they arrive which is a welcome connection to the outside world. We can tell he is feeling better as he is more interested in what is going on in the world of sports. Between that and the History channel he is passing the time. We had never imagined he would have this long-term hospital stay, but there you have it. Your emails and prayers are a great comfort to him. Thank you all for your prayers and well wishes.
As a pastor, Robin is normally the one giving love and support and prayers for others. It is an interesting challenge to be on the receiving end of all that now. The congregation at College Place Presbyterian Church has been such a blessing to all of us through this difficult season. They have raised funds and support and given sacrificially of their time to make our house a clean, safe environment for Robin to come home to. We hope that day is soon coming. They have sent letters and cards and calls in order to share their love and prayers with us. For the most part, we have lived by the proverb, “It is better to give than to receive” and so it is an act of grace to receive the gifts so graciously given. This is often the most difficult and humbling thing to do. And yet, this is exactly the response one must have in order to receive the wonderful gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. You can’t earn it. You can’t buy it. You can’t achieve it. You don’t deserve it. And yet there it is, freely given, ready to be humbly received. All we can do is say, “Yes, Lord, I believe You are God. And I am ready to give You my life and receive the gift of eternal life from You.” But so often, we run around trying to earn the right to receive the gift of relationship with God. It is an exercise in futility. No matter how “good” you are, you will never be perfect enough to be in relationship with God. And, thanks be to God, no matter how “bad” you are, you are never disqualified from relationship either, because frankly, it isn’t about you. It’s about Jesus.
The miracle of the incarnation is that God comes to our level and meets us where we are and changes the rules of the game. He took our place and bore our sins on that cross. And we celebrate the promise of the resurrection on Easter Sunday. The good news is that because Jesus is Risen, we no longer have to fear sin and death. Easter is about forgiveness. Easter is about new life. And as Resurrection People, we know that Robin is in God’s loving and capable hands. Whether he comes through this hospitalization with an incredible testimony of God’s miraculous healing in his body, or he is ushered into the loving arms of our Heavenly Father and joins the Saints in glory, we know that God is good. And we strive, each and every day, as Jesus’ faithful disciples, to make it not about us, but about Jesus.
Warmly in Christ,
Kriss & Hanna Peterson
Hello All, this is a message from Kriss (Robin's wife) and Hanna (his daughter). It has been a long time since Robin has written and we know this has been hard on his readers. Hopefully this blog entry will give some explanation and let you know how things are going with him. It is our fervent hope that he will improve quickly and be up to writing again soon.
Yesterday was the beginning of week six of Robin's most recent bout in the hospital. He was admitted to the University of Washington Medical Center from the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance infusion floor on Friday, April 8th, with a lung infection from the para-influenza 3 virus and severe gut issues from resurfacing GVHD/CMV and the Noro virus. Late afternoon on Thursday, April 28, he became very agitated and short of breath after they did an upper and lower GI trying to determine what was the cause of his continued diarrhea. He continued to have escalating problems with breathing, pain in his left side, and some confusion that he needed constant nursing care and observation. A variety of doctors, nurses, pulmonary and respiratory technicians cycled in and out of his room all night long working to get him stabilized. On Friday, April 29, when they had a bed available, they moved him into the transplant ICU unit. He was very sleepy most of the time in ICU. The pneumonia is concentrated in his left lung but is very severe. It isn't getting better or worse; which is good that it isn't continuing to decline. He is working very hard at breathing with an average of 69% oxygen supplement. This puts stress on his heart and he has some arrhythmia. This seems to have cleared up slightly.
As his own private Cinco de Mayo celebration, he was transferred to a regular transplant room and out of ICU protocols on Thursday, May 5th. It is encouraging to have him out of ICU, but even if he improves significantly, he is still looking at several more weeks in the hospital. He is very weak. He is more awake and alert, but doesn’t have the strength to walk and barely gets out of bed to the chair. Late Friday night he had an MRI and Saturday morning they did a bronchoscopy to try and find the culprit causing the pneumonia. On the chest CT Thursday, they saw a new development in the right lung as well as the left lung’s ongoing problems. He occasionally has a coughing episode when he tries to talk very much so phone calls are sometimes tricky. We all feel a bit like the turtle in the race, but hopefully progress is slow and steady. Robin is eating a bit more, but not much of anything. He seems fairly comfortable, but we can only imagine how it feels to be constantly force-fed pills, poked and prodded and surrounded by mask-clad beings. We hope he'll get back more of an appetite soon. That seems to be the best indication that progress is being achieved.
All the kids have been here to visit recently which is always a boost. Daughter Ella and son-in-law Chris were here over the Mother’s Day weekend. Son Amos came for a visit May 9th through 11th. Daughter Hanna comes up for a couple of days whenever she can and daughter Cleo pops in from time to time after classes at Seattle University. Kriss is able to print off emails and bring cards in as they arrive which is a welcome connection to the outside world. We can tell he is feeling better as he is more interested in what is going on in the world of sports. Between that and the History channel he is passing the time. We had never imagined he would have this long-term hospital stay, but there you have it. Your emails and prayers are a great comfort to him. Thank you all for your prayers and well wishes.
As a pastor, Robin is normally the one giving love and support and prayers for others. It is an interesting challenge to be on the receiving end of all that now. The congregation at College Place Presbyterian Church has been such a blessing to all of us through this difficult season. They have raised funds and support and given sacrificially of their time to make our house a clean, safe environment for Robin to come home to. We hope that day is soon coming. They have sent letters and cards and calls in order to share their love and prayers with us. For the most part, we have lived by the proverb, “It is better to give than to receive” and so it is an act of grace to receive the gifts so graciously given. This is often the most difficult and humbling thing to do. And yet, this is exactly the response one must have in order to receive the wonderful gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. You can’t earn it. You can’t buy it. You can’t achieve it. You don’t deserve it. And yet there it is, freely given, ready to be humbly received. All we can do is say, “Yes, Lord, I believe You are God. And I am ready to give You my life and receive the gift of eternal life from You.” But so often, we run around trying to earn the right to receive the gift of relationship with God. It is an exercise in futility. No matter how “good” you are, you will never be perfect enough to be in relationship with God. And, thanks be to God, no matter how “bad” you are, you are never disqualified from relationship either, because frankly, it isn’t about you. It’s about Jesus.
The miracle of the incarnation is that God comes to our level and meets us where we are and changes the rules of the game. He took our place and bore our sins on that cross. And we celebrate the promise of the resurrection on Easter Sunday. The good news is that because Jesus is Risen, we no longer have to fear sin and death. Easter is about forgiveness. Easter is about new life. And as Resurrection People, we know that Robin is in God’s loving and capable hands. Whether he comes through this hospitalization with an incredible testimony of God’s miraculous healing in his body, or he is ushered into the loving arms of our Heavenly Father and joins the Saints in glory, we know that God is good. And we strive, each and every day, as Jesus’ faithful disciples, to make it not about us, but about Jesus.
Warmly in Christ,
Kriss & Hanna Peterson
Saturday, April 23, 2011
EASTER FACE TO FACE!
We have been in Respiratory Isolation at the U of W Medical Center for the last 15 days. It matches the same time we were here post transplant. We had hoped to be released on Good Friday, but I am still battling life-threatening complications. Something as simple as a common cold can trigger a domino effect of other transplant related medical conditions. We just had a visit from two Drs. from the infectious disease department. It was both sobering and encouraging. They were very honest with us about the possibility of things spiraling out of control and that I could die from these complications. However, they see lots of positive results from a new chest X-Ray this morning and feel like it is just time and vigilant care that will turn the tide. Being here over Easter makes me feel like I am going through my own version of Calvary. The Apostle’s Creed affirms that Jesus descended into Hell between Friday night and Easter morning. I Peter describes what He did over those three days. He proclaimed the hope of the Gospel and led a train of believers out of the darkness of despair and into the light of life.
My best estimate is that I will be in the Hospital for at least another week. I have to get to the point where I have an appetite and can consume enough calories to sustain myself and get the diarrhea I have under control. I have just passed the 50 lb. weight loss mark since I arrived for transplant. I don’t know how much more I can lose and have any strength left. I am weaker than I have ever been in my life and it is very difficult to consistently exercise. I have a great physical therapist, working with me as much as he is able, but ultimately, I have to make the effort myself on a daily basis. Being in isolation makes it that much more difficult, since I cannot walk the halls like I did the first time I was here.
God continues to sustain us through your love, letters and support. We simply would not be able to face all of this without your unconditional love and God’s faithfulness. I was very frustrated and discouraged on Friday. One of the Drs. actually signed discharge papers early in the morning, only to cancel them before noon. It was the correct medical decision, but it is just an example of the roller coaster we seem to be on. I am learning how to be more patient and trust God for each day. My life is not in my hands and I pray that God will bless all of you with a wonderful resurrection weekend. We will be home in God’s time and look forward to seeing all of you. Robin and Kriss
My best estimate is that I will be in the Hospital for at least another week. I have to get to the point where I have an appetite and can consume enough calories to sustain myself and get the diarrhea I have under control. I have just passed the 50 lb. weight loss mark since I arrived for transplant. I don’t know how much more I can lose and have any strength left. I am weaker than I have ever been in my life and it is very difficult to consistently exercise. I have a great physical therapist, working with me as much as he is able, but ultimately, I have to make the effort myself on a daily basis. Being in isolation makes it that much more difficult, since I cannot walk the halls like I did the first time I was here.
God continues to sustain us through your love, letters and support. We simply would not be able to face all of this without your unconditional love and God’s faithfulness. I was very frustrated and discouraged on Friday. One of the Drs. actually signed discharge papers early in the morning, only to cancel them before noon. It was the correct medical decision, but it is just an example of the roller coaster we seem to be on. I am learning how to be more patient and trust God for each day. My life is not in my hands and I pray that God will bless all of you with a wonderful resurrection weekend. We will be home in God’s time and look forward to seeing all of you. Robin and Kriss
Thursday, April 14, 2011
IN THE BELLY OF THE WHALE
No one knows for sure what kind of fish swallowed Jonah, it must have been a whopper. He had a distinct aversion for the Ninevites verging on hatred and racism. When God called him to go and proclaim a message of repentance to the Nivevites he took the first public transportation the opposite direction and thought that was the end of it. God’s sense of humor is only rivaled by God’s sovereignty. Though a series of adventures culminating in his expulsion from public transportation, he landed in the belly of a fish and was regurgitated on the outskirts of Nineveh. He must have made a spectacular sight. Bleached like Clorox, whiter than white. Half decomposed strings of skin falling off of his extremities, fish odor and God only knows what other kinds of fish smells. It must have resembled a Norwegian/Swedish Holiday Party with lutefisk and Grog. God gave him a clear message to walk the entire length of the city calling the Ninevites to turn from their sinful ways and embrace the hope of the one true God. Jonah was less than enthusiastic, but with all that he had gone through the last few weeks, he went ahead and obeyed, not expecting, nor particularly wanting much of a positive response. God’s compassions go so far beyond our capacity to love or care. Here were hundreds of thousands of people who didn’t know their left hand from their right and God loved them in spite of it, maybe because of it.
Of course Jonah goes out and sits under a tree and pouts because of his tremendous success as an evangelist. Frederick Buechner notes that “envy is the overwhelming desire to have everyone else as unsuccessful as you are.” God doesn’t seem to condemn Jonah for his callousness of heart. It’s hard to overcome generations of prejudice and begin to see people as God sees them. Now it’s time for Jonah to repent and it was the greater miracle to change that one heart than the thousands of Ninevite hearts.
I have latent prejudices towards cities. It was here, beginning in 7th grade that my father left our ancestral home and went to work for Boeing Aircraft Company. He vowed to come home every weekend to visit us, but one weekend turned into two and then three. One a month was good enough over the winter months when the roads were dangerous between Seattle and Wapato. The money was essential and my parents seemed to get along better apart than together at that stage of their lives. They drifted apart and created friendships and support groups and mutual interests that didn’t include one another. It was inevitable that it would put a fatal strain on their relationship and they just drifted apart. It was a prolonged and nasty divorce. Both sides trying to gain the allegiance of the 11 living children any way they could. Kriss and I and our children were caught in the middle since we had moved Mom back from Vancouver, BC where she had also attended Regent College, quite successfully.
By this time the Wapato Community Presbyterian Church was phasing out of one pastoral relationship and seeking a permanent ordained/installed pastor. The Presbytery of Central WA took me under care as a Licentiate, which category no longer exists, and so I was able to fill the pulpit, administer the sacraments, moderate the session and even qualify to accept the position as ordained/installed pastor with 2/3 vote of the Presbytery after having finished a Master of Divinity Degree from an accredited institution. We moved out of the Blue House on the Ranch and moved into the parsonage belonging to the church in Wapato. I continued teaching French at Yakima Valley Community College and also took German on the side. Hanna had been such a compliant and perfect baby that we thought we had the parenting thing pretty much figured out! What a miscalculation that is on the part of any parent. Each child is wholly unique unto themselves and you have to start from scratch and just know that you have no idea what is going to be in each of their best interests. I guess that’s how God has to deal with each of us, as well. I learned how to be a pastor during those two years in Wapato, the best and the worst of it. We took a mission team to Southeast Alaska for three weeks and saw many lives changed mostly those in our group. Amos was born August 6, 1977 and six weeks later we arrived at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, CA. How little did we know that we would have been followed by one of the most renowned Serial Killers in the history of American criminal annals.
PASADENA, CA, FALL OF 1977
Fuller Theological Seminary took great pride in considering itself the Princeton Theological Seminary of the West Coast. It wasn’t, except in expenses and a self-inflated set of its own California mystique. Having already received two advanced Theological degrees from truly world class international theologians, I was in no way intimidated when they paraded “super-star” Southern California Mega Church Pastors in front of us as if to say: “ this is what you could become, with our guidance and training.” Horse-pucky. Who would want to be chauffeured around in a luxury automobile to avoid having to drive yourself on the freeway system? You would be amazed how many of those mega-stars went down in flames of public disgrace and humiliation. Jesus calls us to a life of servant hood, not rock star status. I wrote scathing critiques to the professors, but not a single response from any of them. Their Assistants did all the reading of papers and the professors were too busy going out to lunch with the superstars and their Hollywood clientele. It was a valuable lesson to learn in idolatry both within and without the church. In Canada, you could enroll full time as a student and take as many classes as time allowed. At FTS, they nickel and dimed you out of every credit you took and after registering the first day, I had to go home and tell Kriss that all our money was practically gone and only God knew how we could survive the next 9 months. Pollution was at its worst in early September, the kids were not adapting well to their environment and Kriss began to develop a series of bouts with strep-throat that would plague her the rest of the year. And then Anthony Bono showed up on the streets of Pasadena.
Of course Jonah goes out and sits under a tree and pouts because of his tremendous success as an evangelist. Frederick Buechner notes that “envy is the overwhelming desire to have everyone else as unsuccessful as you are.” God doesn’t seem to condemn Jonah for his callousness of heart. It’s hard to overcome generations of prejudice and begin to see people as God sees them. Now it’s time for Jonah to repent and it was the greater miracle to change that one heart than the thousands of Ninevite hearts.
I have latent prejudices towards cities. It was here, beginning in 7th grade that my father left our ancestral home and went to work for Boeing Aircraft Company. He vowed to come home every weekend to visit us, but one weekend turned into two and then three. One a month was good enough over the winter months when the roads were dangerous between Seattle and Wapato. The money was essential and my parents seemed to get along better apart than together at that stage of their lives. They drifted apart and created friendships and support groups and mutual interests that didn’t include one another. It was inevitable that it would put a fatal strain on their relationship and they just drifted apart. It was a prolonged and nasty divorce. Both sides trying to gain the allegiance of the 11 living children any way they could. Kriss and I and our children were caught in the middle since we had moved Mom back from Vancouver, BC where she had also attended Regent College, quite successfully.
By this time the Wapato Community Presbyterian Church was phasing out of one pastoral relationship and seeking a permanent ordained/installed pastor. The Presbytery of Central WA took me under care as a Licentiate, which category no longer exists, and so I was able to fill the pulpit, administer the sacraments, moderate the session and even qualify to accept the position as ordained/installed pastor with 2/3 vote of the Presbytery after having finished a Master of Divinity Degree from an accredited institution. We moved out of the Blue House on the Ranch and moved into the parsonage belonging to the church in Wapato. I continued teaching French at Yakima Valley Community College and also took German on the side. Hanna had been such a compliant and perfect baby that we thought we had the parenting thing pretty much figured out! What a miscalculation that is on the part of any parent. Each child is wholly unique unto themselves and you have to start from scratch and just know that you have no idea what is going to be in each of their best interests. I guess that’s how God has to deal with each of us, as well. I learned how to be a pastor during those two years in Wapato, the best and the worst of it. We took a mission team to Southeast Alaska for three weeks and saw many lives changed mostly those in our group. Amos was born August 6, 1977 and six weeks later we arrived at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, CA. How little did we know that we would have been followed by one of the most renowned Serial Killers in the history of American criminal annals.
PASADENA, CA, FALL OF 1977
Fuller Theological Seminary took great pride in considering itself the Princeton Theological Seminary of the West Coast. It wasn’t, except in expenses and a self-inflated set of its own California mystique. Having already received two advanced Theological degrees from truly world class international theologians, I was in no way intimidated when they paraded “super-star” Southern California Mega Church Pastors in front of us as if to say: “ this is what you could become, with our guidance and training.” Horse-pucky. Who would want to be chauffeured around in a luxury automobile to avoid having to drive yourself on the freeway system? You would be amazed how many of those mega-stars went down in flames of public disgrace and humiliation. Jesus calls us to a life of servant hood, not rock star status. I wrote scathing critiques to the professors, but not a single response from any of them. Their Assistants did all the reading of papers and the professors were too busy going out to lunch with the superstars and their Hollywood clientele. It was a valuable lesson to learn in idolatry both within and without the church. In Canada, you could enroll full time as a student and take as many classes as time allowed. At FTS, they nickel and dimed you out of every credit you took and after registering the first day, I had to go home and tell Kriss that all our money was practically gone and only God knew how we could survive the next 9 months. Pollution was at its worst in early September, the kids were not adapting well to their environment and Kriss began to develop a series of bouts with strep-throat that would plague her the rest of the year. And then Anthony Bono showed up on the streets of Pasadena.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
10 Days in the Perfect Storm
University of Washington Medical Center, Seattle
I thought it was April Fools Day, but it was real. My body had been telling me for days that things weren't right. Somehow your body knows when you are at high risk. I had been telling my care providers that things seemed to be going backwards. Without absolute confirmation they were in a "wait and see" mood. From 1:30am to 4:30am I developed a severe case of para-influenza III. Normally this is a 24-hour flu bug that your immune system can tolerate and recover within 24 hours. But without much of an immune system, it driggered a domino-effect of four major, distinct medical crises. Graft vs. Host Disease reimmerged in my upper and lower intestinal tract. This teamed up with my CMV, which also appeared in my blood-stream. Influenza developed into a lung infection, verging on pneumonia. Oxygen saturation levels dropped to the point of having to start 24-hour oxygen at the hospital. I was admitted once again to the UW Medical Center after a steady and constant decline physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I had three doctors reveal to me after the fact that things might have spiraled out of control and consequences might have been dire. It was at this time that I wrote the blog that I hope didn't offend people about not quoting scriptures to me. I was just trying to focus all of my energy on trying to stabilize. I would welcome anything the Lord put on your heart to share with me. I appreciate all of the concern and cards. I am at a point where I have the energy to read them and will try to respond as I am able.
We are getting legal counsel with my brother's estate which is taking a huge load off and allows me to concentrate fully on getting healthy and putting all my energy into my recovery. It is uncertain how long I will have to stay at the UW Med Center until my gut is stable and the brochial problems are cleared up. I need to be off of oxygen. We are making progress on a couple of fronts, but are still needing improvement in other areas. We appreciate your support and prayers through this time so we can come home as soon as possible. Yesterday was exactly three months from the transplant but we may have to stay beyond the 100 days obviously. Kriss is in Walla Walla taking care of things and Hanna is here helping do what I need to have done. We are learning a lot about patience and perseverance. God is providing everything we need right now through all of you and a lot of prayers and support. Thank you so much for all the work on the house and many many things people are doing to make a recovery possible.
If I can't be in Walla Walla for Easter, I wil communicate a special Easter message to you one way or the other. To quote a famous Easter message from Anothy Campolo, "It may be Friday, but Sunday's a-comin'!" Thank you in advance for all your love and care.
I look forward to hearing from you. Robin
I thought it was April Fools Day, but it was real. My body had been telling me for days that things weren't right. Somehow your body knows when you are at high risk. I had been telling my care providers that things seemed to be going backwards. Without absolute confirmation they were in a "wait and see" mood. From 1:30am to 4:30am I developed a severe case of para-influenza III. Normally this is a 24-hour flu bug that your immune system can tolerate and recover within 24 hours. But without much of an immune system, it driggered a domino-effect of four major, distinct medical crises. Graft vs. Host Disease reimmerged in my upper and lower intestinal tract. This teamed up with my CMV, which also appeared in my blood-stream. Influenza developed into a lung infection, verging on pneumonia. Oxygen saturation levels dropped to the point of having to start 24-hour oxygen at the hospital. I was admitted once again to the UW Medical Center after a steady and constant decline physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I had three doctors reveal to me after the fact that things might have spiraled out of control and consequences might have been dire. It was at this time that I wrote the blog that I hope didn't offend people about not quoting scriptures to me. I was just trying to focus all of my energy on trying to stabilize. I would welcome anything the Lord put on your heart to share with me. I appreciate all of the concern and cards. I am at a point where I have the energy to read them and will try to respond as I am able.
We are getting legal counsel with my brother's estate which is taking a huge load off and allows me to concentrate fully on getting healthy and putting all my energy into my recovery. It is uncertain how long I will have to stay at the UW Med Center until my gut is stable and the brochial problems are cleared up. I need to be off of oxygen. We are making progress on a couple of fronts, but are still needing improvement in other areas. We appreciate your support and prayers through this time so we can come home as soon as possible. Yesterday was exactly three months from the transplant but we may have to stay beyond the 100 days obviously. Kriss is in Walla Walla taking care of things and Hanna is here helping do what I need to have done. We are learning a lot about patience and perseverance. God is providing everything we need right now through all of you and a lot of prayers and support. Thank you so much for all the work on the house and many many things people are doing to make a recovery possible.
If I can't be in Walla Walla for Easter, I wil communicate a special Easter message to you one way or the other. To quote a famous Easter message from Anothy Campolo, "It may be Friday, but Sunday's a-comin'!" Thank you in advance for all your love and care.
I look forward to hearing from you. Robin
Saturday, April 9, 2011
ONE STEP FORWARD AND TWO STEPS BACK
We are learning more and more about our bodies and the magnificent and delicate way God made us. Like – oxygen saturation – and how essential appropriate levels are to keep us going. This is Kriss writing as Robin is resting in a hospital bed at the University of Washington Medical Center as of Friday evening around 10 pm.
It has been a very eventful week. Last Friday late night through early Saturday morning Robin was hit very hard with vomiting and diarrhea. We went to the Cancer Center Triage for weekend assessment on Saturday mid-morning. Upon consulting with our primary doctor Robin received his first of three IV Prednisone infusions over the next three days. Then, as life would have it, I had my turn of violent GI issues on Sunday night. Monday Robin had to drive himself to the Cancer Center or cancel his appointments, which was not really an option. They took a nasal culture, which showed he had Para-influenza 3, but due to Robin’s compromised immune system he did not recover as I did. He has been suffering from an irritating cough and post-nasal drip for over three weeks. He has had a weekly chest x-ray to determine what is precipitating the cough, showing nothing conclusive. So, Robin is back on Prednisone. After daily blood draws he had more drug changes this week than ever. Then on Thursday, along with various other appointments, they did a chest CT; and on Friday he had an endoscopy & sigmoidoscopy. During and after these procedures was when his low oxygen absorption levels became apparent. One more big drug change came about, and this was rather overwhelming. He was taken off the twice daily home infusions of Ganciclovir and scheduled to come into the Cancer Center for twice daily infusions of Foscarnet with 2 hours of hydration infusion at home prior to the 8am dose and 4 hours of IV hydration before the 8pm dose. I was really wondering how we were going to get it all done, along with all of his meds at six different times a day (some with food, some on an empty stomach) and 4 blood sugar tests and insulin. We also had numerous appointments to keep. At this point a 12 hour nursing shift sounded pretty good. I could use a good nights sleep without worrying I was going to forget something Robin needed. Robin was getting so tired I had to wake him up to go to the next appt. or take the next meds. And walking to the car and through the Cancer Center really wore him out. When we went in for his first infusion of Foscarnet on Friday at 5:30pm the nurse was concerned about his shortness of breath and, of course, the oxygen levels. She didn’t want to start the drug until the PA on duty saw him in person. It took over an hour for her to get to us, but she was great. She was able to track down our primary Dr. and he said two words: Get going! Since he was on oxygen and the drug infusion he was transferred to the hospital by ambulance. It was a relief to both of us to know he was getting the attention he needs along with the oxygen. Now we found out that the chest CT revealed some bi-lateral infiltration of his lungs. They took a sputum culture and found evidence of a bacterial infection so he is on a three day high dose antibiotic.
So, for the past two weeks Robin has been donning a disposable respiratory mask at the Cancer Center. Now it is my turn. Anyone entering his room at the hospital must put on a gown, gloves and mask, and keep them on the entire time there. At least now Robin can get the rest he needs and his meds and treatments without having to go out in the weather and walk the halls of the SCCA. This is a bit of a set-back and we will surely be here in Seattle past our 100 day mark of April 19, but we feel confident in the medical care and mostly in God’s provision. Thank you all for your continued love and support throughout this medical adventure.
It has been a very eventful week. Last Friday late night through early Saturday morning Robin was hit very hard with vomiting and diarrhea. We went to the Cancer Center Triage for weekend assessment on Saturday mid-morning. Upon consulting with our primary doctor Robin received his first of three IV Prednisone infusions over the next three days. Then, as life would have it, I had my turn of violent GI issues on Sunday night. Monday Robin had to drive himself to the Cancer Center or cancel his appointments, which was not really an option. They took a nasal culture, which showed he had Para-influenza 3, but due to Robin’s compromised immune system he did not recover as I did. He has been suffering from an irritating cough and post-nasal drip for over three weeks. He has had a weekly chest x-ray to determine what is precipitating the cough, showing nothing conclusive. So, Robin is back on Prednisone. After daily blood draws he had more drug changes this week than ever. Then on Thursday, along with various other appointments, they did a chest CT; and on Friday he had an endoscopy & sigmoidoscopy. During and after these procedures was when his low oxygen absorption levels became apparent. One more big drug change came about, and this was rather overwhelming. He was taken off the twice daily home infusions of Ganciclovir and scheduled to come into the Cancer Center for twice daily infusions of Foscarnet with 2 hours of hydration infusion at home prior to the 8am dose and 4 hours of IV hydration before the 8pm dose. I was really wondering how we were going to get it all done, along with all of his meds at six different times a day (some with food, some on an empty stomach) and 4 blood sugar tests and insulin. We also had numerous appointments to keep. At this point a 12 hour nursing shift sounded pretty good. I could use a good nights sleep without worrying I was going to forget something Robin needed. Robin was getting so tired I had to wake him up to go to the next appt. or take the next meds. And walking to the car and through the Cancer Center really wore him out. When we went in for his first infusion of Foscarnet on Friday at 5:30pm the nurse was concerned about his shortness of breath and, of course, the oxygen levels. She didn’t want to start the drug until the PA on duty saw him in person. It took over an hour for her to get to us, but she was great. She was able to track down our primary Dr. and he said two words: Get going! Since he was on oxygen and the drug infusion he was transferred to the hospital by ambulance. It was a relief to both of us to know he was getting the attention he needs along with the oxygen. Now we found out that the chest CT revealed some bi-lateral infiltration of his lungs. They took a sputum culture and found evidence of a bacterial infection so he is on a three day high dose antibiotic.
So, for the past two weeks Robin has been donning a disposable respiratory mask at the Cancer Center. Now it is my turn. Anyone entering his room at the hospital must put on a gown, gloves and mask, and keep them on the entire time there. At least now Robin can get the rest he needs and his meds and treatments without having to go out in the weather and walk the halls of the SCCA. This is a bit of a set-back and we will surely be here in Seattle past our 100 day mark of April 19, but we feel confident in the medical care and mostly in God’s provision. Thank you all for your continued love and support throughout this medical adventure.
Friday, April 1, 2011
TRANSPLANT SHUTES AND LADDERS!
SEATTLE,WA,4/1/2011 CLOUDY,RAIN,45DEGREES,
When our children were young one of their favorite games was SHUTES AND LADDERS. It was a simple board game where everyone started at the bottom of the board and rolled a die and moved that number of spaces and the winner got to the top of the board first. However, along the way were spaces with ladders attached that you climbed one or two levels as a bonus, but there were also shutes or slide spaces which caused you to go backwards one or two levels. Looking back, it was a pretty valuable game in that it taught some fairly sophisticated life lessons. Don't get too cocky when you are winning, because you could end up behind on just your next turn. Don't get too discouraged if you are behind everyone else, because ladders exist and you could vault over the top of everyone else and end up winning. Win and lose as graciously as possible. Enjoy the time with the people you play with, especially if your parents play with you.
This week has been my own version of Stem Cell Transplant SHUTES AND LADDERS. We have landed on some ladder spaces and vaulted forward. The final results of the bone marrow biopsy were as good as we could have possibly hoped for. Hanna's stem cells not only make up 100% of my bone marrow stem cells, but they have eliminated all the abnormal chromosomal Myleo-Dysplastic cells. For now I am free of that pre-leukemic condition. But we have landed on several chutes and taken a free-fall backwards, as well. My (CMV) Cytomegalovirus has returned. It originally teamed with Graft vs Host Disease to land me in the U of W Medical Center two days after trasplant. I spent 15 days battling a severe intestinal tract disruption, but this time it is showing up in my blood stream. Treatment consists of putting me back on IV infusions twice a day of Gansciclovir. In addition to CMV reimergence, I have a Herpes Viral outbreak in the roof of my mouth that has grown from the size of a pencil eraser to a half-dollar in just a few days. The meds I am taking for that have stopped its growth, but drinking and eating are very painful. It's like you were too greedy and took a big bite of hot pizza and burned the roof of your mouth. We all know what that feels like and how long it takes to heal. I'm making progress on the blood sugar front and require less insulin every week. All of these problems are typical of post Prednisone treatment and they anticipate them during the last three weeks prior to discharge. I had hoped that by this time, I would be having clearer sailing and an increase in energy and vitality. Unfortunately, the opposite is true and I have to force myself to take walks and eat much of anything. We see our PA again after a blood draw on Monday, so she can keep a close eye on these new developments. I hope and pray that we can get all of these new complications under control before our scheduled discharge date of April 19th. We would covet your prayers in that regard.
I suspect that there are other outside sources of stress that are contributing to my medical free-fall. Watching my brother Tom slowly lose his battle for life for six weeks in Harborview's Neuro-Intensive Care Unit is impacting me in some strange ways. Having made the decision to remove him from all life support and walking with him through the Valley of the Shadow of Death for 5 hours, I am feeling some deep feelings of survivor guilt. It is a new experience for me to have to cope with the question of why he died and not me. It is a common struggle for survivors of war and massive loss of life in accidents. Having daily reminders of his legal and financial affairs keeps that grief wound open and bleeding. It is a new path I never anticipated taking and I don't know how God is going to bring healing to this wound. My body is telling me that I am going downhill at this time. It is disappointing not to have each day get better and better. I don't know how far this shute I'm on will descend, but wherever we land, we will regroup and with God's help and all your prayers, we will persevere. Sois misericordieux envers moi, Seigneur! Je suis epuise et surmonte par mes douleurs. Ceux qui m'entourent ne savent comment me consoler. Toi and toi seule connaisses les fardeaux qui m'ecrasent. La vie deroule peniblement et les nuits se moquent de moi. Revele-toi comme l'aube, et delivre-moi par ta main toute puissante! Some emotions can only be expressed in a language with more subtle emotional depth. (Translation) Be merciful to me, O Lord! I am exhausted and overcome by my sufferings. Those who surround me don't know how to console me. You and you alone know the burdens that threaten to crush me. Life rolls by painfully and nights mock me. Reveal yourself like the dawn, and deliver me by your all powerful hand. Some emotions seem easier to express in another language that lends itself to more subtle emotional nuances. My translation cannot truly reveal those nuances, but it will give you a good idea of my own version of a Psalm of David crying out to God for God's intervention in his life. It is the same kind of desperation that led Jesus to cry out, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" Maybe we all have to experience some moments of deep sense of isolation to recognize the miracle of God's presence that we sometimes take for granted. Keep us in your prayers, we are approaching a critical period in this transplant process and it feels like life itself is hanging in the balance. Robin
When our children were young one of their favorite games was SHUTES AND LADDERS. It was a simple board game where everyone started at the bottom of the board and rolled a die and moved that number of spaces and the winner got to the top of the board first. However, along the way were spaces with ladders attached that you climbed one or two levels as a bonus, but there were also shutes or slide spaces which caused you to go backwards one or two levels. Looking back, it was a pretty valuable game in that it taught some fairly sophisticated life lessons. Don't get too cocky when you are winning, because you could end up behind on just your next turn. Don't get too discouraged if you are behind everyone else, because ladders exist and you could vault over the top of everyone else and end up winning. Win and lose as graciously as possible. Enjoy the time with the people you play with, especially if your parents play with you.
This week has been my own version of Stem Cell Transplant SHUTES AND LADDERS. We have landed on some ladder spaces and vaulted forward. The final results of the bone marrow biopsy were as good as we could have possibly hoped for. Hanna's stem cells not only make up 100% of my bone marrow stem cells, but they have eliminated all the abnormal chromosomal Myleo-Dysplastic cells. For now I am free of that pre-leukemic condition. But we have landed on several chutes and taken a free-fall backwards, as well. My (CMV) Cytomegalovirus has returned. It originally teamed with Graft vs Host Disease to land me in the U of W Medical Center two days after trasplant. I spent 15 days battling a severe intestinal tract disruption, but this time it is showing up in my blood stream. Treatment consists of putting me back on IV infusions twice a day of Gansciclovir. In addition to CMV reimergence, I have a Herpes Viral outbreak in the roof of my mouth that has grown from the size of a pencil eraser to a half-dollar in just a few days. The meds I am taking for that have stopped its growth, but drinking and eating are very painful. It's like you were too greedy and took a big bite of hot pizza and burned the roof of your mouth. We all know what that feels like and how long it takes to heal. I'm making progress on the blood sugar front and require less insulin every week. All of these problems are typical of post Prednisone treatment and they anticipate them during the last three weeks prior to discharge. I had hoped that by this time, I would be having clearer sailing and an increase in energy and vitality. Unfortunately, the opposite is true and I have to force myself to take walks and eat much of anything. We see our PA again after a blood draw on Monday, so she can keep a close eye on these new developments. I hope and pray that we can get all of these new complications under control before our scheduled discharge date of April 19th. We would covet your prayers in that regard.
I suspect that there are other outside sources of stress that are contributing to my medical free-fall. Watching my brother Tom slowly lose his battle for life for six weeks in Harborview's Neuro-Intensive Care Unit is impacting me in some strange ways. Having made the decision to remove him from all life support and walking with him through the Valley of the Shadow of Death for 5 hours, I am feeling some deep feelings of survivor guilt. It is a new experience for me to have to cope with the question of why he died and not me. It is a common struggle for survivors of war and massive loss of life in accidents. Having daily reminders of his legal and financial affairs keeps that grief wound open and bleeding. It is a new path I never anticipated taking and I don't know how God is going to bring healing to this wound. My body is telling me that I am going downhill at this time. It is disappointing not to have each day get better and better. I don't know how far this shute I'm on will descend, but wherever we land, we will regroup and with God's help and all your prayers, we will persevere. Sois misericordieux envers moi, Seigneur! Je suis epuise et surmonte par mes douleurs. Ceux qui m'entourent ne savent comment me consoler. Toi and toi seule connaisses les fardeaux qui m'ecrasent. La vie deroule peniblement et les nuits se moquent de moi. Revele-toi comme l'aube, et delivre-moi par ta main toute puissante! Some emotions can only be expressed in a language with more subtle emotional depth. (Translation) Be merciful to me, O Lord! I am exhausted and overcome by my sufferings. Those who surround me don't know how to console me. You and you alone know the burdens that threaten to crush me. Life rolls by painfully and nights mock me. Reveal yourself like the dawn, and deliver me by your all powerful hand. Some emotions seem easier to express in another language that lends itself to more subtle emotional nuances. My translation cannot truly reveal those nuances, but it will give you a good idea of my own version of a Psalm of David crying out to God for God's intervention in his life. It is the same kind of desperation that led Jesus to cry out, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" Maybe we all have to experience some moments of deep sense of isolation to recognize the miracle of God's presence that we sometimes take for granted. Keep us in your prayers, we are approaching a critical period in this transplant process and it feels like life itself is hanging in the balance. Robin
Friday, March 25, 2011
I'M PREDNISONE FREE!
Seattle, WA, sunny but cool, rain later.
It's not as good as calling Dave Ramsey and shouting: "We're Debt Free", which we hope to do some day. But it is a major step in my transplant process that we are "surthriving". It seems I learn something new each week about drugs and their interactions with various parts of your body, for better or worse. Prednisone is a life-saving tool in the Drs. Medical Arsenal, but its benefits come with a fairly high price tag. I developed a severe case of Graft vs Host Disease 2 days after transplant and was hospitalized for 15 days at the U of W Medical Center. It was focused on my intestinal tract and to make matters worse, I brought with me a latent intestinal disease called CMV. Many people have CMV and their immune system just keeps it in check. The combination of the two diseases was more intense than I realized at the time, but God is faithful and we weathered that storm.
Prednisone and a host of other medications turned the tide on the Graft vs Host Disease, but I am just finding out some of the costs of that battle. As I have mentioned before, water retention in my lower extremities forced us to resort to lasix, which we have now been able to stop. Elevated blood sugar meant we need insulin shots three times a day. Muscle and bone loss, and hopefully some fat, have led to weight loss now just over 40 lbs. But the latest knowledge we acquired yesterday during clinicals with our Medical Team is that Prednisone puts your adrenal glands to sleep. It essentially is powerful enough to convince your adrenal glands that there is enough adrenalin already in your system so they can take an extended vacation. I was wondering why I wasn't getting back more energy and now I know. I've got to wake up and recall those AWOL Adrenal glands to start doing their job. If they don't do it spontaneously, we have MP drugs that will roust them out of their slumber and get them back on active duty. When Kriss and I do our daily walk, it almost drives her crazy how slow I walk. She is naturally a fast walker with much longer legs than I, but she is a good sport about it. We look like an old couple holding hands just barely creeping up and down the sidewalk. That's not all necessarily bad. Maybe all of our relationships would benefit from some slow walking and hand holding from time to time. I am committed to doing more exercise, even if I don't feel like it. God will provide both the desire and the strength to break through this barrier. The preliminary report on my Bone Marrow Biopsy is very good. Hanna's stem cells have taken over 100% of my bone marrow identity. We won't find out until next week the extent of her stem cells impact on any Chromosomal abnormalities.We pray that there is no sign of Myleo-Displastic-Syndrome or any other factor which would complicate my recovery. Another week to wait and pray in faith.
There is, of course, a spiritual lesson I'm learning from my journey with Prednisone and Friends. Intentional, repeated and unrepentant sin acts like Prednisone in putting our moral conscious to sleep. Once that inner sense of right and wrong is somnolent, we are vulnerable to ever increasing depravity and indifference to truth and Godly living. It functions in our penal and criminal justice system as people systematically destroy their sense of any guilt, remorse or shame for their crimes. It also functions in the church as evidenced by the decades long clergy abuse scandals that have literally bankrupted various parishes and churches. We don't probably preach or think much about real repentance in our daily lives. We know God loves and forgives us unconditionally, but there is a critical piece of spiritual life that includes confession, repentance and restoration that keeps the biblically inspired conscious alive and well. We all know that it is the Holy Spirit who convicts us of sin. But we have an amazing ability to tune out those warnings and keep whistling in the dark, hoping no one will notice our hypocrisy and moral failures. What do we do?
In Romans 7:21-25, the Apostle Paul honestly acknowledged his battle with his hypocrisy: "So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!....Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death." In Christ alone is the power to forgive and make all things new. But the starting point is a simple word "repent", "metanoia" in the NT Greek. Stop where you are right now and do an about face. Stop going the direction that is leading your life over the cliff and turn around and go the opposite direction. You will find, by faith, Jesus waiting there with a special look and embrace, asking:" What took you so long?" We know the Way to the Father, we just need to get on board that train to heaven.
Somewhere on Tecumseh Road near White Swan, WA Summer of 1975
We returned from Canada and did what we always did, go to work. I worked on the family farm and Kriss and I restored a "house" that had deteriorated into a barn for domesticated animals. One entire side was open for cows, horses, skunks, mice and all creatures great and small to find shelter. It took most of the summer to remodel and make it habitable for us and a newborn child due to arrive in September. Over the summer we wrestled with what God had in store for us in the present and the future. My father-in-law offered me a chance to make a career of farming and ranching with him, but we both knew that that was not a viable long-term option. I was contacted by a former Professor at Yakima Valley Community College who was retiring and he wanted to know if I would be interested in applying for the French Professor Position that was coming vacant that Fall. We prayed about it and I applied and was hired to teach two sections of French each Quarter. We continued to work on the Ranch and on September 14th, 1975, Hanna Kathleen Peterson was born in Toppenish, WA. It was a hard delivery on me. Kriss had back labor pains and I almost wore myself out giving her back massages. Before all the females reading this blog rise up in united outrage at my self-centeredness, I have to confess that I had nothing of the hard work Kriss endured with amazing courage and determination. Minutes after her delivery, she was nursing like she had done it all her life. There is no greater miracle than childbirth and God's gift of instinct and bonding.
Two weeks later, I began my College Teaching Career at YVC with a special twist. Kriss enrolled in my French Class and brought Hanna to class with her. When she got fussy, I would simply take her in my arms as I lectured and strolled around the room which seemed to pacify her. I would suspect that that was the first and probably the last time a Professor had a baby in class. Maybe that is why Hanna has such a good French accent and excels in that language. Between working on the Ranch, teaching French in Yakima and learning how to be parents, our plate was full of God's blessings. The little "Blue House" was a perfect place to settle into parenthood, but we knew God would soon be knocking on the door of our hearts with a vision and vocation for our lives. We resisted the temptation to settle for a comfortable life surrounded by family and friends and knew that God would one day call us to "deny ourselves, take up his cross, and follow him." We just didn't know when or where. Robin
It's not as good as calling Dave Ramsey and shouting: "We're Debt Free", which we hope to do some day. But it is a major step in my transplant process that we are "surthriving". It seems I learn something new each week about drugs and their interactions with various parts of your body, for better or worse. Prednisone is a life-saving tool in the Drs. Medical Arsenal, but its benefits come with a fairly high price tag. I developed a severe case of Graft vs Host Disease 2 days after transplant and was hospitalized for 15 days at the U of W Medical Center. It was focused on my intestinal tract and to make matters worse, I brought with me a latent intestinal disease called CMV. Many people have CMV and their immune system just keeps it in check. The combination of the two diseases was more intense than I realized at the time, but God is faithful and we weathered that storm.
Prednisone and a host of other medications turned the tide on the Graft vs Host Disease, but I am just finding out some of the costs of that battle. As I have mentioned before, water retention in my lower extremities forced us to resort to lasix, which we have now been able to stop. Elevated blood sugar meant we need insulin shots three times a day. Muscle and bone loss, and hopefully some fat, have led to weight loss now just over 40 lbs. But the latest knowledge we acquired yesterday during clinicals with our Medical Team is that Prednisone puts your adrenal glands to sleep. It essentially is powerful enough to convince your adrenal glands that there is enough adrenalin already in your system so they can take an extended vacation. I was wondering why I wasn't getting back more energy and now I know. I've got to wake up and recall those AWOL Adrenal glands to start doing their job. If they don't do it spontaneously, we have MP drugs that will roust them out of their slumber and get them back on active duty. When Kriss and I do our daily walk, it almost drives her crazy how slow I walk. She is naturally a fast walker with much longer legs than I, but she is a good sport about it. We look like an old couple holding hands just barely creeping up and down the sidewalk. That's not all necessarily bad. Maybe all of our relationships would benefit from some slow walking and hand holding from time to time. I am committed to doing more exercise, even if I don't feel like it. God will provide both the desire and the strength to break through this barrier. The preliminary report on my Bone Marrow Biopsy is very good. Hanna's stem cells have taken over 100% of my bone marrow identity. We won't find out until next week the extent of her stem cells impact on any Chromosomal abnormalities.We pray that there is no sign of Myleo-Displastic-Syndrome or any other factor which would complicate my recovery. Another week to wait and pray in faith.
There is, of course, a spiritual lesson I'm learning from my journey with Prednisone and Friends. Intentional, repeated and unrepentant sin acts like Prednisone in putting our moral conscious to sleep. Once that inner sense of right and wrong is somnolent, we are vulnerable to ever increasing depravity and indifference to truth and Godly living. It functions in our penal and criminal justice system as people systematically destroy their sense of any guilt, remorse or shame for their crimes. It also functions in the church as evidenced by the decades long clergy abuse scandals that have literally bankrupted various parishes and churches. We don't probably preach or think much about real repentance in our daily lives. We know God loves and forgives us unconditionally, but there is a critical piece of spiritual life that includes confession, repentance and restoration that keeps the biblically inspired conscious alive and well. We all know that it is the Holy Spirit who convicts us of sin. But we have an amazing ability to tune out those warnings and keep whistling in the dark, hoping no one will notice our hypocrisy and moral failures. What do we do?
In Romans 7:21-25, the Apostle Paul honestly acknowledged his battle with his hypocrisy: "So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!....Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death." In Christ alone is the power to forgive and make all things new. But the starting point is a simple word "repent", "metanoia" in the NT Greek. Stop where you are right now and do an about face. Stop going the direction that is leading your life over the cliff and turn around and go the opposite direction. You will find, by faith, Jesus waiting there with a special look and embrace, asking:" What took you so long?" We know the Way to the Father, we just need to get on board that train to heaven.
Somewhere on Tecumseh Road near White Swan, WA Summer of 1975
We returned from Canada and did what we always did, go to work. I worked on the family farm and Kriss and I restored a "house" that had deteriorated into a barn for domesticated animals. One entire side was open for cows, horses, skunks, mice and all creatures great and small to find shelter. It took most of the summer to remodel and make it habitable for us and a newborn child due to arrive in September. Over the summer we wrestled with what God had in store for us in the present and the future. My father-in-law offered me a chance to make a career of farming and ranching with him, but we both knew that that was not a viable long-term option. I was contacted by a former Professor at Yakima Valley Community College who was retiring and he wanted to know if I would be interested in applying for the French Professor Position that was coming vacant that Fall. We prayed about it and I applied and was hired to teach two sections of French each Quarter. We continued to work on the Ranch and on September 14th, 1975, Hanna Kathleen Peterson was born in Toppenish, WA. It was a hard delivery on me. Kriss had back labor pains and I almost wore myself out giving her back massages. Before all the females reading this blog rise up in united outrage at my self-centeredness, I have to confess that I had nothing of the hard work Kriss endured with amazing courage and determination. Minutes after her delivery, she was nursing like she had done it all her life. There is no greater miracle than childbirth and God's gift of instinct and bonding.
Two weeks later, I began my College Teaching Career at YVC with a special twist. Kriss enrolled in my French Class and brought Hanna to class with her. When she got fussy, I would simply take her in my arms as I lectured and strolled around the room which seemed to pacify her. I would suspect that that was the first and probably the last time a Professor had a baby in class. Maybe that is why Hanna has such a good French accent and excels in that language. Between working on the Ranch, teaching French in Yakima and learning how to be parents, our plate was full of God's blessings. The little "Blue House" was a perfect place to settle into parenthood, but we knew God would soon be knocking on the door of our hearts with a vision and vocation for our lives. We resisted the temptation to settle for a comfortable life surrounded by family and friends and knew that God would one day call us to "deny ourselves, take up his cross, and follow him." We just didn't know when or where. Robin
Sunday, March 20, 2011
OUT OF THE MIRY CLAY!
Seattle, WA Beautiful Sunny Day, cool breeze 45 degrees.
In numerous areas of my life, it feels like I'm stuck in the mud. We are in a critical phase of my stem cell transplant where the Medical Team is preparing for the final stages prior to discharge. I have to transition from IV infusions for hydration and medications to totally oral medications. I will have my last Prednisone pill on the 22nd of March and hopefully, along with it, the alleviation of lots of side effects. The Graft vs Host Disease the Prednisone has held in check keeps peeping its head up to remind me that it is still lurking around like a mouse trying to find a warm home before winter. I have an eruption of skin damage around my Hickman Port. I have four skin fungal sites that we are treating. I am taking pills to reduce the water retention in my lower legs. I test blood sugar levels 4 times a day and take insulin three times a day. I still have an IV infusion here at home a couple hours a day and the list goes on and on. My new attending Physician wants me to have another bone marrow biopsy on Tuesday. His speciality is Myleo Displastic Syndrome, which I had when I first came here, and he wants hard evidence that it is no longer there. Hanna's stem cells should have destroyed and replaced all of my diseased stem cells, but he wants to know for certain. It will be one of the milestones we need to pass to be discharged in the best possible condition. It is a painful and stressful procedure that no one looks forward to having. The skill of the Dr. doing the biopsy makes all the difference in the world. Please pray for a talented and God inspired technician. I continue to lose weight, in spite of eating a diet that would normally put pounds on your body. I need to avoid sugar and related products, so that must contribute significantly. I have lost 40 lbs since my Transplant and that should level off once I'm off the Prednisone. Hopefully, I won't just gain it all back again, I don't believe that I will. I am weak as a kitten after a few hours of activity, but I keep exercising to maintain muscle strength. In your prayers this week, pray specifically that the Myleo Displastic Syndrome is completely gone and that I can begin to regain some physical strength and stamina.
The emotional and physical impact of my brother Tom's death and dying journey is both inspirational and exhausting. We finally found his medical directives from his house in Wapato. By the grace of God, we followed them exactly as he had directed. I was named to be his Medical Representative and have final say in the length and extent of treatment. It was better that we didn't have that written directive earlier, because it worked out much better for our family to come to a unanimous consensus when decision time arrived. I would not have done much differently than we did, only probably a little sooner. It is a sobering responsibility when someone else gives into your hands the authority to artificially sustain life, or allow nature to take its course. I will take a copy of his Directive to the Harborview Social Worker to put in Tom's permanent file. It will be available to his Medical Team and give them some comfort knowing they ultimately did what he would have wanted them to do. We are in the process of finalizing the Celebration of Tom's Life in Wapato on Memorial Day Weekend. It will include a formal church service, Military Honors, and a community dinner at the American Legion on Saturday, May 28. Most of that is already scheduled and Hanna and I will share in officiating the service at the church. Like many of you, I find myself opening my cell phone and instinctively looking up Tom's number because I want to talk to him about something. Habits die harder than people.
Without the love, support, prayers, cards and compassion of all of you and untold others, we would not only be in the miry clay, but in the quicksand of despair. God is using all of you to hold us together and we will slowly emerge from the depths, but not too quickly. There are lessons to be learned in the pits and caves of life. If we fail to listen to that still small voice of God when everything seems at its worst, we may miss an Elijah like moment when God spoke to him personally in a gentle whisper. God assured him that he was not alone, that there were 7000 other faithful followers of the True God, and here are your marching orders to go forth with your life. I Kings 19. I received an inspired e-mail from a dear friend who knows both my heart and situation the other day. His word to me was that of the vineyard. He has a vision of God doing a significant pruning of my life (vine). Having pruned fruit trees and grapes since high school, I get it.Only those vines that are pruned severely and wisely will produce excellent fruit. God knows what His purposes are in our lives and I am encouraged to anticipate what new and better spiritual fruit will come forth from all this.We will "surthrive" by the Grace of God and together bring glory and praise to God's Name. Robin
VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA Fall 1974
We worked on the family farm again over the Summer of 1974. We earned enough money to go back to Regent College for my second year of Theological Education at Regent College and receive a Master's in Christian Studies. Kriss had passed her State Board Exams and was licensed as a LPN. However, she didn't have a work visa from the Canadian Government, so she couldn't work as a LPN. She did find an under the table job as a Nanny for a Neuro-Surgeon and his wife, caring for their two children. They were a wonderful christian couple who chose to remain in Canada and provide medical care in their system in lieu of accepting offer after offer from American Medical Centers which would have paid him 5-10 times as much income. You had to admire their devotion to their country and the care of their fellow countrymen. We lived in a basement apartment in the middle of Vancouver, which meant that I still had to commute, but now only 20 minutes to school. I had mastered the vocabulary and methodology of theological studies and did well. To graduate you had to produce a Master's Thesis of original research on a topic approved by your Advisor. I decided to research the Biblical basis of the Equality of Men and Women in Christian Marriage. It was a daunting, yet enlightening process to dig beneath the superficial culturally based assumptions of both the 1st and 20th centuries. I had learned to multi-task and so I used major chapters of my Thesis for the Major Papers of individual classes to great success and even approval of my professors. We developed a rather strange lifestyle. Kriss would get up around 5 am and manually type what I had written out by hand, then at 7am go play Mary Poppins with her kids. I would get up around noon and begin to do research on my Thesis. I had told my Professors that they wouldn't see much of me, but I would submit all my work on time and I would check in with them on a regular basis. Somehow they accepted my offer and knew that I was deeply involved in original research and they wanted to support me in any way that they could. I would study until 4 pm when Kriss got home, we would spend a couple hours together fixing supper and visiting a while. By 8 pm I was back on the clock doing research and occasionally listening to the Vancouver Cannucks Hockey Game in the background and Kriss would finish typing for the day. I would study until 4am. It might sound like a really crazy and unbalanced lifestyle, but it worked so well and so efficiently, that I finished all the requirements for my normal classes and my Thesis three weeks before school was over. We actually took 10 days off and went back to the family farm for some R&R.
Returning to Vancouver, we went through Graduation and looked forward to what God had in store for us in the next chapter of our lives which would include a new born baby that coming September. Now we had the responsibility of parenthood to consider in making decisions concerning our future. Hanna was, is and will always be a precious gift to us, as are all our children. Being given the stewardship of four human lives is probably the most daunting responsibility and privilege any of us is ever given in this life. They are God's children first and always. We do not possess them, nor they us. Just because you have a piano in your home doesn't make you a pianist. Just because you have a biological child doesn't automatically turn you into a competent parent. We prayerfully and fearfully welcomed each child as God's gift and pray that one day we will have proved ourselves worthy of those gifts. Praise be to God for being the Heavenly Parent to our children, when we fell short and were unworthy. One final event occurred just before finishing up at Regent College that would remain with me forever. I had a good friend who was amazingly talented, intelligent, charming, and potentially successful in Theological Studies. He applied and was accepted into a Ph.D. program at one of the most prestigious Theological Schools in England. We had been working across the aisle doing research one evening when he asked:"Want a break from the monotony?" I asked him what he meant and he told me to come over to his desk and look at something that helped him get his mind off of the tedium of research. He threw out a pornographic magazine, which from the cover, you couldn't fail to imagine what was inside. I looked at him and said: "You've got to be kidding, no thanks!" He took some offense at my rejection of his stress-alleviating distraction and we let it pass. He went to England, got his Ph D. in New Testament Studies, returned to a Theological Institution in Canada as a Professor and Administrator, fell in "love" with an employee of that Institution, abandoned his wife and sons, created a scandal within the Institution that caused great harm. I never forgot that moment of temptation and decision when God pulled me out of the miry clay of potential pornographic titillation and addiction. I don't think my friend wanted out of the mud. Moral choices seem so innocent and inconsequential in the moment of time. In reality, one choice in a vulnerable moment can unleash a tsunami of moral and interpersonal destruction beyond imagination. Robin
In numerous areas of my life, it feels like I'm stuck in the mud. We are in a critical phase of my stem cell transplant where the Medical Team is preparing for the final stages prior to discharge. I have to transition from IV infusions for hydration and medications to totally oral medications. I will have my last Prednisone pill on the 22nd of March and hopefully, along with it, the alleviation of lots of side effects. The Graft vs Host Disease the Prednisone has held in check keeps peeping its head up to remind me that it is still lurking around like a mouse trying to find a warm home before winter. I have an eruption of skin damage around my Hickman Port. I have four skin fungal sites that we are treating. I am taking pills to reduce the water retention in my lower legs. I test blood sugar levels 4 times a day and take insulin three times a day. I still have an IV infusion here at home a couple hours a day and the list goes on and on. My new attending Physician wants me to have another bone marrow biopsy on Tuesday. His speciality is Myleo Displastic Syndrome, which I had when I first came here, and he wants hard evidence that it is no longer there. Hanna's stem cells should have destroyed and replaced all of my diseased stem cells, but he wants to know for certain. It will be one of the milestones we need to pass to be discharged in the best possible condition. It is a painful and stressful procedure that no one looks forward to having. The skill of the Dr. doing the biopsy makes all the difference in the world. Please pray for a talented and God inspired technician. I continue to lose weight, in spite of eating a diet that would normally put pounds on your body. I need to avoid sugar and related products, so that must contribute significantly. I have lost 40 lbs since my Transplant and that should level off once I'm off the Prednisone. Hopefully, I won't just gain it all back again, I don't believe that I will. I am weak as a kitten after a few hours of activity, but I keep exercising to maintain muscle strength. In your prayers this week, pray specifically that the Myleo Displastic Syndrome is completely gone and that I can begin to regain some physical strength and stamina.
The emotional and physical impact of my brother Tom's death and dying journey is both inspirational and exhausting. We finally found his medical directives from his house in Wapato. By the grace of God, we followed them exactly as he had directed. I was named to be his Medical Representative and have final say in the length and extent of treatment. It was better that we didn't have that written directive earlier, because it worked out much better for our family to come to a unanimous consensus when decision time arrived. I would not have done much differently than we did, only probably a little sooner. It is a sobering responsibility when someone else gives into your hands the authority to artificially sustain life, or allow nature to take its course. I will take a copy of his Directive to the Harborview Social Worker to put in Tom's permanent file. It will be available to his Medical Team and give them some comfort knowing they ultimately did what he would have wanted them to do. We are in the process of finalizing the Celebration of Tom's Life in Wapato on Memorial Day Weekend. It will include a formal church service, Military Honors, and a community dinner at the American Legion on Saturday, May 28. Most of that is already scheduled and Hanna and I will share in officiating the service at the church. Like many of you, I find myself opening my cell phone and instinctively looking up Tom's number because I want to talk to him about something. Habits die harder than people.
Without the love, support, prayers, cards and compassion of all of you and untold others, we would not only be in the miry clay, but in the quicksand of despair. God is using all of you to hold us together and we will slowly emerge from the depths, but not too quickly. There are lessons to be learned in the pits and caves of life. If we fail to listen to that still small voice of God when everything seems at its worst, we may miss an Elijah like moment when God spoke to him personally in a gentle whisper. God assured him that he was not alone, that there were 7000 other faithful followers of the True God, and here are your marching orders to go forth with your life. I Kings 19. I received an inspired e-mail from a dear friend who knows both my heart and situation the other day. His word to me was that of the vineyard. He has a vision of God doing a significant pruning of my life (vine). Having pruned fruit trees and grapes since high school, I get it.Only those vines that are pruned severely and wisely will produce excellent fruit. God knows what His purposes are in our lives and I am encouraged to anticipate what new and better spiritual fruit will come forth from all this.We will "surthrive" by the Grace of God and together bring glory and praise to God's Name. Robin
VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA Fall 1974
We worked on the family farm again over the Summer of 1974. We earned enough money to go back to Regent College for my second year of Theological Education at Regent College and receive a Master's in Christian Studies. Kriss had passed her State Board Exams and was licensed as a LPN. However, she didn't have a work visa from the Canadian Government, so she couldn't work as a LPN. She did find an under the table job as a Nanny for a Neuro-Surgeon and his wife, caring for their two children. They were a wonderful christian couple who chose to remain in Canada and provide medical care in their system in lieu of accepting offer after offer from American Medical Centers which would have paid him 5-10 times as much income. You had to admire their devotion to their country and the care of their fellow countrymen. We lived in a basement apartment in the middle of Vancouver, which meant that I still had to commute, but now only 20 minutes to school. I had mastered the vocabulary and methodology of theological studies and did well. To graduate you had to produce a Master's Thesis of original research on a topic approved by your Advisor. I decided to research the Biblical basis of the Equality of Men and Women in Christian Marriage. It was a daunting, yet enlightening process to dig beneath the superficial culturally based assumptions of both the 1st and 20th centuries. I had learned to multi-task and so I used major chapters of my Thesis for the Major Papers of individual classes to great success and even approval of my professors. We developed a rather strange lifestyle. Kriss would get up around 5 am and manually type what I had written out by hand, then at 7am go play Mary Poppins with her kids. I would get up around noon and begin to do research on my Thesis. I had told my Professors that they wouldn't see much of me, but I would submit all my work on time and I would check in with them on a regular basis. Somehow they accepted my offer and knew that I was deeply involved in original research and they wanted to support me in any way that they could. I would study until 4 pm when Kriss got home, we would spend a couple hours together fixing supper and visiting a while. By 8 pm I was back on the clock doing research and occasionally listening to the Vancouver Cannucks Hockey Game in the background and Kriss would finish typing for the day. I would study until 4am. It might sound like a really crazy and unbalanced lifestyle, but it worked so well and so efficiently, that I finished all the requirements for my normal classes and my Thesis three weeks before school was over. We actually took 10 days off and went back to the family farm for some R&R.
Returning to Vancouver, we went through Graduation and looked forward to what God had in store for us in the next chapter of our lives which would include a new born baby that coming September. Now we had the responsibility of parenthood to consider in making decisions concerning our future. Hanna was, is and will always be a precious gift to us, as are all our children. Being given the stewardship of four human lives is probably the most daunting responsibility and privilege any of us is ever given in this life. They are God's children first and always. We do not possess them, nor they us. Just because you have a piano in your home doesn't make you a pianist. Just because you have a biological child doesn't automatically turn you into a competent parent. We prayerfully and fearfully welcomed each child as God's gift and pray that one day we will have proved ourselves worthy of those gifts. Praise be to God for being the Heavenly Parent to our children, when we fell short and were unworthy. One final event occurred just before finishing up at Regent College that would remain with me forever. I had a good friend who was amazingly talented, intelligent, charming, and potentially successful in Theological Studies. He applied and was accepted into a Ph.D. program at one of the most prestigious Theological Schools in England. We had been working across the aisle doing research one evening when he asked:"Want a break from the monotony?" I asked him what he meant and he told me to come over to his desk and look at something that helped him get his mind off of the tedium of research. He threw out a pornographic magazine, which from the cover, you couldn't fail to imagine what was inside. I looked at him and said: "You've got to be kidding, no thanks!" He took some offense at my rejection of his stress-alleviating distraction and we let it pass. He went to England, got his Ph D. in New Testament Studies, returned to a Theological Institution in Canada as a Professor and Administrator, fell in "love" with an employee of that Institution, abandoned his wife and sons, created a scandal within the Institution that caused great harm. I never forgot that moment of temptation and decision when God pulled me out of the miry clay of potential pornographic titillation and addiction. I don't think my friend wanted out of the mud. Moral choices seem so innocent and inconsequential in the moment of time. In reality, one choice in a vulnerable moment can unleash a tsunami of moral and interpersonal destruction beyond imagination. Robin
Sunday, March 13, 2011
DEATH WITH DIGNITY!
Seattle, WA, March 13, 2011, Rainy and cool.
Yesterday my brother Tom went home to be with the Lord. It is one thing to live well, it is equally important to die well. Allow me to share the day with you. I awoke around 4:30 am to finalize the liturgy that we were going to use at a service just prior to removal of heroic life support measures. Our daughter Hanna came out shortly after that and we collaborated on music and the order of service. I have to have infusions in the morning, along with tests for blood sugar, an insulin shot, and a fist full of pills. Getting all of those things coordinated and something for breakfast took up much of the morning. We weren't scheduled to go to Harborview until around 2 pm, but some complications with visitors and Tom's deteriorating condition caused us to get there closer to 1 pm. We had copied the "Family Service for Tom Peterson" so everyone present could participate. When we got to Tom's room, he was essentially in the same condition as the day before. His nurse advised us to go ahead with our worship time, because he didn't believe Tom would linger very long after removal of the ventilator tube; he underestimated the strength of the Peterson heart.
Gathered in a circle around his bed, we went through the liturgy interspersed with songs like: "Precious Lord, Take my Hand, lead me on, help me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on, to the light, Take my hand, precious Lord, and lead me home. When my way grows drear, precious Lord, linger near, When my life is almost gone, Hear my cry, hear my call, Hold my hand, lest I fall, Take my hand, precious Lord, and lead me home."
We recited together the 23rd Psalm and the Lord's Prayer. Following the singing of Amazing Grace, I delivered the following Commendation and Prayer: "Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world; In the name of God the Father Almighty who created you; In the name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you; In the name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you; May your rest be this day in peace, and your dwelling. place in the paradise of God.....Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend our brother, Tom, acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen We closed this formal service singing: "I'll Fly Away" Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away. To a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away. I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by I'll fly away....When the shadows of this life have grown I'll fly away; Like a bird from prison bars has flown, I'll fly away. I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by I'll fly away....Just a few more weary days and then I'll fly away; To a land where joys shall never end, I'll fly away; I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by I'll fly away."
The nurse came in and requested we all leave so they could do all the procedures they needed to do We began a vigil that would last approximately 5 hours. Hanna and her sisters continued to sing old-timey gospel songs with a distinct Appalachian flavor that were just perfect and beautifully sung. They all seemed to be orchestrated by a Master Conductor that was the One truly in charge. Tom was stable at this time so we took shifts, getting something to eat and taking a break from the intensity of it all. Someone was always at his side, holding his hand or caressing his face. He slowly lost oxygen absorption which fuels and heart and at 7:16 pm his heart stopped. We gathered in a circle of prayer around his bed and commended him into the arms of God. Individuals had their opportunity to say goodbye and we left in peace.
Tom felt no pain, was never in distress and at some spiritual level knew exactly what was going on and embraced death with as much courage and passion as he embraced life.What was most difficult for my daughters, was that they could not help thinking that it could just as easily have been me on that bed, having lost my battle with cancer. This time together sharing the death of my brother will prepare them for whatever happens to Kriss and me in the future. We must teach our children not to be afraid to face the process of death and dying head on. God's promises in Scripture abound with affirmations like: "The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable, it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power, it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body." 1 Cor. 15:42ff.
In the coming days there will be many details to be taken care of preparing for a Formal Celebration of Tom's Life in the Yakima Valley, coordinating with the VFW and American Legion, and arranging for the disposal of his cremains up at the cabin outside of Ellensburg. My sister Kathy and I are also Executors of his will and Estate, so that will take no little time. The tentative date for his services is over Memorial Day Weekend, which is fitting for his service to our nation and the Wapato Legion Community.
God was present and truly glorified in the manner in which my brother left this world. His chrysalis from a shell of a man to a resurrection body was a beautiful gift to us all. He said his Soft Goodbye and is now dancing in the streets of gold. Robin
Yesterday my brother Tom went home to be with the Lord. It is one thing to live well, it is equally important to die well. Allow me to share the day with you. I awoke around 4:30 am to finalize the liturgy that we were going to use at a service just prior to removal of heroic life support measures. Our daughter Hanna came out shortly after that and we collaborated on music and the order of service. I have to have infusions in the morning, along with tests for blood sugar, an insulin shot, and a fist full of pills. Getting all of those things coordinated and something for breakfast took up much of the morning. We weren't scheduled to go to Harborview until around 2 pm, but some complications with visitors and Tom's deteriorating condition caused us to get there closer to 1 pm. We had copied the "Family Service for Tom Peterson" so everyone present could participate. When we got to Tom's room, he was essentially in the same condition as the day before. His nurse advised us to go ahead with our worship time, because he didn't believe Tom would linger very long after removal of the ventilator tube; he underestimated the strength of the Peterson heart.
Gathered in a circle around his bed, we went through the liturgy interspersed with songs like: "Precious Lord, Take my Hand, lead me on, help me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on, to the light, Take my hand, precious Lord, and lead me home. When my way grows drear, precious Lord, linger near, When my life is almost gone, Hear my cry, hear my call, Hold my hand, lest I fall, Take my hand, precious Lord, and lead me home."
We recited together the 23rd Psalm and the Lord's Prayer. Following the singing of Amazing Grace, I delivered the following Commendation and Prayer: "Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world; In the name of God the Father Almighty who created you; In the name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you; In the name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you; May your rest be this day in peace, and your dwelling. place in the paradise of God.....Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend our brother, Tom, acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen We closed this formal service singing: "I'll Fly Away" Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away. To a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away. I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by I'll fly away....When the shadows of this life have grown I'll fly away; Like a bird from prison bars has flown, I'll fly away. I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by I'll fly away....Just a few more weary days and then I'll fly away; To a land where joys shall never end, I'll fly away; I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by I'll fly away."
The nurse came in and requested we all leave so they could do all the procedures they needed to do We began a vigil that would last approximately 5 hours. Hanna and her sisters continued to sing old-timey gospel songs with a distinct Appalachian flavor that were just perfect and beautifully sung. They all seemed to be orchestrated by a Master Conductor that was the One truly in charge. Tom was stable at this time so we took shifts, getting something to eat and taking a break from the intensity of it all. Someone was always at his side, holding his hand or caressing his face. He slowly lost oxygen absorption which fuels and heart and at 7:16 pm his heart stopped. We gathered in a circle of prayer around his bed and commended him into the arms of God. Individuals had their opportunity to say goodbye and we left in peace.
Tom felt no pain, was never in distress and at some spiritual level knew exactly what was going on and embraced death with as much courage and passion as he embraced life.What was most difficult for my daughters, was that they could not help thinking that it could just as easily have been me on that bed, having lost my battle with cancer. This time together sharing the death of my brother will prepare them for whatever happens to Kriss and me in the future. We must teach our children not to be afraid to face the process of death and dying head on. God's promises in Scripture abound with affirmations like: "The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable, it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power, it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body." 1 Cor. 15:42ff.
In the coming days there will be many details to be taken care of preparing for a Formal Celebration of Tom's Life in the Yakima Valley, coordinating with the VFW and American Legion, and arranging for the disposal of his cremains up at the cabin outside of Ellensburg. My sister Kathy and I are also Executors of his will and Estate, so that will take no little time. The tentative date for his services is over Memorial Day Weekend, which is fitting for his service to our nation and the Wapato Legion Community.
God was present and truly glorified in the manner in which my brother left this world. His chrysalis from a shell of a man to a resurrection body was a beautiful gift to us all. He said his Soft Goodbye and is now dancing in the streets of gold. Robin
Friday, March 11, 2011
A SOFT GOODBYE - CELTIC WOMEN
A Soft Goodbye
when the light begins to fade
and shadows fall across the sea,
one bright star in the evening sky.
your love's light leads me on my way.
there's a dream that will not sleep,
a burning hope that will not die.
so I must go now with the wind,
and leave you waiting on the tide.
time to fly, time to touch the sky.
one voice alone, a haunting cry.
one song, one star burning bright,
may it carry me through darkest night.
rain comes over the gray hills,
and on the air, a soft goodbye.
hear the song that I sing to you
when the time has come to fly.
when I leave and take the wind
and find the land that faith will bring,
the brightest star in the evening sky
is yours to find for me.
is yours to find for me.
Seattle, WA, March 11, 2011
My brother Tom will live out the words to "A Soft Goodbye" in the coming hours or days. As a family, we have unanimously agreed that to continue heroic measures to prolong his physical life is not in his best interest. After consultations with his Medical Team, all are in agreement that it is time to let nature take its course. Tomorrow they will begin to remove certain life support systems that are keeping him alive physically, but are not sustainable for any quality of life that he would choose for himself. It is an agonizing decision that I have made with many of you who read this blog. To have to let go and release loved ones into the merciful hand of God is one of the most difficult decisions we ever make in life. Graciously, every member of our family is in agreement and that in itself is a minor miracle. Sometime in the afternoon, they will begin the Palliative Care Process for Tom and we will surround him with worship and song. Our daughter, Hanna, plays the Mandolin and we will conduct a service of consecration and committal. There is a beautiful liturgy from the Book of Common Prayer that has been used for hundreds of years that we will borrow from.
Tom was my next older brother. I have spoken of him in previous blogs. During my battle with cancer and particularly during my Stem Cell Transplant process, he has been at my bedside as much as he was able. They tested all of my siblings to find a suitable donor, but none was found. I cannot tell you how many times he asked me why he wasn't chosen to be my donor. I had to explain that it just wasn't an appropriate match. He never accepted that fully. He so desperately wanted to give me a second chance at life that he would have gladly given his life for mine. As a Vietnam Vet, he had already stood in the gap as a medic and risked his life to save others. Jesus described something like that when he said: "No greater love exists, than to be willing to give your life for another." Although he was 5 years older than I, we were in many ways much closer in maturity and experience. Having no biological children of his own, he was a better Father to my children than I was. They were truly special to him. He took countless videos of their birthdays, sporting events, holiday celebrations and spontaneous dramatic productions they created at Christmas and New Years. In the last months, he had a burning desire to preserve those documents on DVDs. Maybe he had some intuition that something made that a priority, those approaching the end of life are given insights, if they are willing to listen. He was a Jack of all Trades and Master of Many. Whenever he came to visit us in Walla Walla, I couldn't keep him away from the welder or other tool, trying to help out anyway he could. Most of the time it was truly valuable and appreciated. Occasionally, it was more work keeping him working and I was exhausted trying to get my stuff done and keep him from getting bored. He adored Kriss and I'm sure was deeply envious of the gift she is to me. I will be forever indebted to him for being the father to my children that I choose to or was not able to be to them. Maybe that is the true essence of family. No one single individual can meet all the needs of even one other person emotionally, psychologically, or spiritually. Rather than grieve my failure as a Father, I can celebrate the gift of his love and devotion for my children.
In the coming days, we will hear him say his soft goodbye and find the land that faith will bring. God has gone before and prepared a perfect place, just for him. A garden in which the angels do all the weeding. Beautiful wood and stones to make works of art. Time with famous fishermen of the scriptures to feel the sun on your back and the gentle breathe of heaven on your face. Reunions with family and friends who have gone before. A perfect resurrection body with no pain or earthly limitations. Peace, in the presence of the Prince of Peace. If it sounds too good to be true, just search the promises of God in scripture and claim them by faith in Christ for your own and it will make us all envy him just a bit for his liberation from this world of woe. Robin
when the light begins to fade
and shadows fall across the sea,
one bright star in the evening sky.
your love's light leads me on my way.
there's a dream that will not sleep,
a burning hope that will not die.
so I must go now with the wind,
and leave you waiting on the tide.
time to fly, time to touch the sky.
one voice alone, a haunting cry.
one song, one star burning bright,
may it carry me through darkest night.
rain comes over the gray hills,
and on the air, a soft goodbye.
hear the song that I sing to you
when the time has come to fly.
when I leave and take the wind
and find the land that faith will bring,
the brightest star in the evening sky
is yours to find for me.
is yours to find for me.
Seattle, WA, March 11, 2011
My brother Tom will live out the words to "A Soft Goodbye" in the coming hours or days. As a family, we have unanimously agreed that to continue heroic measures to prolong his physical life is not in his best interest. After consultations with his Medical Team, all are in agreement that it is time to let nature take its course. Tomorrow they will begin to remove certain life support systems that are keeping him alive physically, but are not sustainable for any quality of life that he would choose for himself. It is an agonizing decision that I have made with many of you who read this blog. To have to let go and release loved ones into the merciful hand of God is one of the most difficult decisions we ever make in life. Graciously, every member of our family is in agreement and that in itself is a minor miracle. Sometime in the afternoon, they will begin the Palliative Care Process for Tom and we will surround him with worship and song. Our daughter, Hanna, plays the Mandolin and we will conduct a service of consecration and committal. There is a beautiful liturgy from the Book of Common Prayer that has been used for hundreds of years that we will borrow from.
Tom was my next older brother. I have spoken of him in previous blogs. During my battle with cancer and particularly during my Stem Cell Transplant process, he has been at my bedside as much as he was able. They tested all of my siblings to find a suitable donor, but none was found. I cannot tell you how many times he asked me why he wasn't chosen to be my donor. I had to explain that it just wasn't an appropriate match. He never accepted that fully. He so desperately wanted to give me a second chance at life that he would have gladly given his life for mine. As a Vietnam Vet, he had already stood in the gap as a medic and risked his life to save others. Jesus described something like that when he said: "No greater love exists, than to be willing to give your life for another." Although he was 5 years older than I, we were in many ways much closer in maturity and experience. Having no biological children of his own, he was a better Father to my children than I was. They were truly special to him. He took countless videos of their birthdays, sporting events, holiday celebrations and spontaneous dramatic productions they created at Christmas and New Years. In the last months, he had a burning desire to preserve those documents on DVDs. Maybe he had some intuition that something made that a priority, those approaching the end of life are given insights, if they are willing to listen. He was a Jack of all Trades and Master of Many. Whenever he came to visit us in Walla Walla, I couldn't keep him away from the welder or other tool, trying to help out anyway he could. Most of the time it was truly valuable and appreciated. Occasionally, it was more work keeping him working and I was exhausted trying to get my stuff done and keep him from getting bored. He adored Kriss and I'm sure was deeply envious of the gift she is to me. I will be forever indebted to him for being the father to my children that I choose to or was not able to be to them. Maybe that is the true essence of family. No one single individual can meet all the needs of even one other person emotionally, psychologically, or spiritually. Rather than grieve my failure as a Father, I can celebrate the gift of his love and devotion for my children.
In the coming days, we will hear him say his soft goodbye and find the land that faith will bring. God has gone before and prepared a perfect place, just for him. A garden in which the angels do all the weeding. Beautiful wood and stones to make works of art. Time with famous fishermen of the scriptures to feel the sun on your back and the gentle breathe of heaven on your face. Reunions with family and friends who have gone before. A perfect resurrection body with no pain or earthly limitations. Peace, in the presence of the Prince of Peace. If it sounds too good to be true, just search the promises of God in scripture and claim them by faith in Christ for your own and it will make us all envy him just a bit for his liberation from this world of woe. Robin
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
SURROUNDED BY DEATH AND DYING!
In Romans 8:36 the Apostle Paul describes one portion of the human condition as being surrounded by death. It reminds us that we live in a "fallen world" in rebellion to God. It wasn't God's intent for creation, but disobedience and sin have their reward; the wages of sin are death. I'm not just talking about physical death. I refer more broadly to the death of marriages, friendships, businesses, dreams, hopes, opportunities, careers, and the list could go on and on. We don't prepare well for the end of things, particularly death. We assume life will pretty much go on as it has in the past and we are shocked when we think about the number of the candles on the cake this year.
Every day at The Seattle Cancer Care Alliance and at Harborview where my brother is still in intensive care, I see life and death on a intimate
basis. It is sobering, it causes one to reflect upon one's own eternal condition. I memorized a verse in High School from Galatians 2:20: "I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives within me; and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me." I dedicated my life to living out that verse. I am only now beginning to understand its full implications. We tend to rush past the crucifixion part when we are young and think we will live forever. We want so deeply for Christ to live His abundant life in our lives. We are almost intoxicated with the hope of becoming a new creation in Christ that we fail to think about what it could possibly mean to be crucified with Christ.I still don't understand all that it means, but I am getting glimpses. Crucifixion took a long time. It was intended by the Romans as the ultimate form of execution that would deter criminal behavior.That Jesus willingly went to the cross to conquer death is the rock that anchors my soul.
Death in Christ is a miraculous and wonderful gift. To claim all the promises of the One who promises to be the Resurrection and the Life gives us a boldness and confidence to "surthrive" even human mortality. But the process of dying still sucks. It often hangs on to the vestiges of when it was the ultimate destiny of humanity and makes the process bitter and trying. Maybe that is part of what being crucified with Christ is all about. To share in physical pain, the loss of control and the releasing of our souls into the Hands of God, may have some redemptive value we just can't see. At the end of that journey, however, I do know what awaits those who die in Christ. Twice in my baseball/softball career I have been up to bat in the bottom of the last inning with the game on the line. If I struck out or made an out, we would lose. If I got a hit, particularly a home run, we would win. Miraculously, both times I hit a home run. Each time as I was rounding 2nd base I was suddenly grabbed by the entire team and hosted on their shoulders and carried to third base and finally home. That is what dying in Christ is like. God's angels come swooping down and carry you home because you have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you are lifted up on eagle's wings and you go home.
My brother Tom may have the privilege of that journey in the coming days or weeks. I wrote several days ago that God was speaking to my heart that "My brother would rise!" Jesus assures us that even if we die physically, we will live in and with Him forever. My greatest sorrow is what life is like dying without Christ?
Bellingham, WA, Vancouver, B.C., Canada Fall of 1973
We "surthrived" undergraduate studies at Western Washington University and it was decision time again. What did God want us to do with our lives? We had met a missionary team in France that ministered through a mission called "L'eau Vive", Living Waters. They made a strong appeal for us to return to France, after raising our own financial support and partner with them in ministry. We both felt that was a distinct option and prayerfully sought God's guidance. I knew that I needed formal Theological Education, so I applied to Regent College in Vancouver, B.C. and was accepted into their 2 year program to obtain a Master's in Christian Studies. Kriss had experienced a true vocation of care giving working in the nursing home. She applied to Whatcom Community College for the LPN program and was also accepted. Now we were both students, working part-time jobs and one of us had to commute. Obviously, it would be more appropriate for me to travel 4 days a week to Vancouver than for her to drive 5 days a week to Bellingham. These were the days before Homeland Security and Terrorism. I could get to Vancouver in an hour, stopping just minutes at the border crossing. In fact, some of the personnel on both sides of the border got so used to seeing me come and go that they just waved me on. That wouldn't and shouldn't happen today.
Both of our coursework was demanding and rewarding. Starting theological education was like going to first grade all over again. Learning new alphabets, this time Greek and Hebrew. Vocabulary that everyone else seemed to know, except me. Volumes and volumes of books to read and research. I knew that I was starting in the middle of the pack, but I was determined to do my best and accomplish all God had for me to do in that setting. By the end of the first year, I felt like I was running with the leaders of the pack. I had learned how to study and dissect God's Word. The greater challenge is finding out the rest of your life how to live God's Word. Kriss excelled in Nursing School and today, after all these years, she is essentially my personal LPN, upon whom I am pretty much totally dependent. God's timing reveals God's sovereignty.
We continued our Friday Night Bible Studies in Bellingham that year. Lives were changed and we forged bonds of love and fellowship that sustain us to this day. Nothing replaces a long-term friendship, not even family.Antoine de St. Exupery's masterful insights into friendship in WIND, SAND AND STARS, are an inspiration to me. He essentially says that you cannot replace a forever friend. It would be like planting an acorn in the ground one day and expecting to sit under its shade tomorrow. It is in the long-term battles of life and death, victory and failure, that the bonds of true love are forged. And when those giant oaks that have surrounded and protected us are removed and taken down. Our lives seem defoliated, naked, vulnerable. That is how I will feel when my brother Tom goes home. But I live in a forest of equally majestic oaks and they will stretch out their strong limbs and give me shelter and strength. Robin
Every day at The Seattle Cancer Care Alliance and at Harborview where my brother is still in intensive care, I see life and death on a intimate
basis. It is sobering, it causes one to reflect upon one's own eternal condition. I memorized a verse in High School from Galatians 2:20: "I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives within me; and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me." I dedicated my life to living out that verse. I am only now beginning to understand its full implications. We tend to rush past the crucifixion part when we are young and think we will live forever. We want so deeply for Christ to live His abundant life in our lives. We are almost intoxicated with the hope of becoming a new creation in Christ that we fail to think about what it could possibly mean to be crucified with Christ.I still don't understand all that it means, but I am getting glimpses. Crucifixion took a long time. It was intended by the Romans as the ultimate form of execution that would deter criminal behavior.That Jesus willingly went to the cross to conquer death is the rock that anchors my soul.
Death in Christ is a miraculous and wonderful gift. To claim all the promises of the One who promises to be the Resurrection and the Life gives us a boldness and confidence to "surthrive" even human mortality. But the process of dying still sucks. It often hangs on to the vestiges of when it was the ultimate destiny of humanity and makes the process bitter and trying. Maybe that is part of what being crucified with Christ is all about. To share in physical pain, the loss of control and the releasing of our souls into the Hands of God, may have some redemptive value we just can't see. At the end of that journey, however, I do know what awaits those who die in Christ. Twice in my baseball/softball career I have been up to bat in the bottom of the last inning with the game on the line. If I struck out or made an out, we would lose. If I got a hit, particularly a home run, we would win. Miraculously, both times I hit a home run. Each time as I was rounding 2nd base I was suddenly grabbed by the entire team and hosted on their shoulders and carried to third base and finally home. That is what dying in Christ is like. God's angels come swooping down and carry you home because you have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you are lifted up on eagle's wings and you go home.
My brother Tom may have the privilege of that journey in the coming days or weeks. I wrote several days ago that God was speaking to my heart that "My brother would rise!" Jesus assures us that even if we die physically, we will live in and with Him forever. My greatest sorrow is what life is like dying without Christ?
Bellingham, WA, Vancouver, B.C., Canada Fall of 1973
We "surthrived" undergraduate studies at Western Washington University and it was decision time again. What did God want us to do with our lives? We had met a missionary team in France that ministered through a mission called "L'eau Vive", Living Waters. They made a strong appeal for us to return to France, after raising our own financial support and partner with them in ministry. We both felt that was a distinct option and prayerfully sought God's guidance. I knew that I needed formal Theological Education, so I applied to Regent College in Vancouver, B.C. and was accepted into their 2 year program to obtain a Master's in Christian Studies. Kriss had experienced a true vocation of care giving working in the nursing home. She applied to Whatcom Community College for the LPN program and was also accepted. Now we were both students, working part-time jobs and one of us had to commute. Obviously, it would be more appropriate for me to travel 4 days a week to Vancouver than for her to drive 5 days a week to Bellingham. These were the days before Homeland Security and Terrorism. I could get to Vancouver in an hour, stopping just minutes at the border crossing. In fact, some of the personnel on both sides of the border got so used to seeing me come and go that they just waved me on. That wouldn't and shouldn't happen today.
Both of our coursework was demanding and rewarding. Starting theological education was like going to first grade all over again. Learning new alphabets, this time Greek and Hebrew. Vocabulary that everyone else seemed to know, except me. Volumes and volumes of books to read and research. I knew that I was starting in the middle of the pack, but I was determined to do my best and accomplish all God had for me to do in that setting. By the end of the first year, I felt like I was running with the leaders of the pack. I had learned how to study and dissect God's Word. The greater challenge is finding out the rest of your life how to live God's Word. Kriss excelled in Nursing School and today, after all these years, she is essentially my personal LPN, upon whom I am pretty much totally dependent. God's timing reveals God's sovereignty.
We continued our Friday Night Bible Studies in Bellingham that year. Lives were changed and we forged bonds of love and fellowship that sustain us to this day. Nothing replaces a long-term friendship, not even family.Antoine de St. Exupery's masterful insights into friendship in WIND, SAND AND STARS, are an inspiration to me. He essentially says that you cannot replace a forever friend. It would be like planting an acorn in the ground one day and expecting to sit under its shade tomorrow. It is in the long-term battles of life and death, victory and failure, that the bonds of true love are forged. And when those giant oaks that have surrounded and protected us are removed and taken down. Our lives seem defoliated, naked, vulnerable. That is how I will feel when my brother Tom goes home. But I live in a forest of equally majestic oaks and they will stretch out their strong limbs and give me shelter and strength. Robin
Friday, March 4, 2011
IN THE REFINING FIRES!
Seattle,WA Friday, March 4, 2011, Cloudy 45 degrees.
Everyone goes through the refining fires of life. I Peter speaks of a purifying and authenticating quality to that process. He says that faith must be refined and tested in fire like gold to remove impurities. The bottom line is that faith is perfected in the refining process, gold can and will pass away. At our Clinical Conference with our Medical Team yesterday, my attending Physician warned me that the next 10-15 days would be the most difficult for me taking the fast track Prednisone reduction. Some of the new side effects I am experiencing include elevated blood sugar. I have been tracking it four times a day and it is creeping upward to the point that we are currently at SCCA scheduled for Insulin Therapy. Kriss will have to give me the shots either before or after mealtimes, we'll find out in a few minutes. I am not diabetic at this time, it is just another side-effect of all the meds and my Pancreas just can't keep up. I have all the symptoms, dry mouth, thirst, exhaustion and bad attitude. I never counted on having the opportunity to experience so many temporary serious medical conditions when I first came here. I am learning first hand some valuable insights into the medical and emotional challenges of long term critical medical conditions. I pray that it will help me to be more understanding and truly supportive of others in the future. I may only have a 4-6 week bout with high blood sugar, I truly hope so. Another positive is the need to constantly evaluate what you are eating and how it affects your vital organs and health. Advanced nutrition training comes in handy at any age.
My brother Tom, now almost 6 weeks in Intensive Care at Harborview, is going through a similar 10-15 day trial by fire. We are getting to the point of major decision making time concerning the issue of quantity vs quality of life. We had a very candid conversation with his attending Physician this morning and we are going to give Tom the best chance possible to recover. They will do a Tracheotomy, hopefully today, so they can remove the tube into his lungs. Simultaneously, his body is leaching out 6 full weeks of sedation. They cannot determine what level of brain function he still has from his bleeding and stroke until he is out of the sedative fog that he has been lost in for 6 weeks. By this time next week, they are hopeful that he will be conscious enough to communicate his own wishes concerning further treatment and care.
My next older sister, Kathy, arrives next Friday from Iowa. It is her Spring Break from teaching in Des Moines and she will be a valuable resource in helping make decisions, one way or another. We will consult with all of our siblings, of course, before we make any definitive decisions. The emotional roller coaster of my own medical conditions seems to pale in comparison to the overwhelming needs of those around me. May I be a true "sur-thriver" in the midst of the refining process. Like the three Hebrews boys thrown into the fiery furnace, those observing suddenly saw a fourth figure, Jesus, of course, who delivered them. He is with us here and we will see his glory and deliverance. Robin
Everyone goes through the refining fires of life. I Peter speaks of a purifying and authenticating quality to that process. He says that faith must be refined and tested in fire like gold to remove impurities. The bottom line is that faith is perfected in the refining process, gold can and will pass away. At our Clinical Conference with our Medical Team yesterday, my attending Physician warned me that the next 10-15 days would be the most difficult for me taking the fast track Prednisone reduction. Some of the new side effects I am experiencing include elevated blood sugar. I have been tracking it four times a day and it is creeping upward to the point that we are currently at SCCA scheduled for Insulin Therapy. Kriss will have to give me the shots either before or after mealtimes, we'll find out in a few minutes. I am not diabetic at this time, it is just another side-effect of all the meds and my Pancreas just can't keep up. I have all the symptoms, dry mouth, thirst, exhaustion and bad attitude. I never counted on having the opportunity to experience so many temporary serious medical conditions when I first came here. I am learning first hand some valuable insights into the medical and emotional challenges of long term critical medical conditions. I pray that it will help me to be more understanding and truly supportive of others in the future. I may only have a 4-6 week bout with high blood sugar, I truly hope so. Another positive is the need to constantly evaluate what you are eating and how it affects your vital organs and health. Advanced nutrition training comes in handy at any age.
My brother Tom, now almost 6 weeks in Intensive Care at Harborview, is going through a similar 10-15 day trial by fire. We are getting to the point of major decision making time concerning the issue of quantity vs quality of life. We had a very candid conversation with his attending Physician this morning and we are going to give Tom the best chance possible to recover. They will do a Tracheotomy, hopefully today, so they can remove the tube into his lungs. Simultaneously, his body is leaching out 6 full weeks of sedation. They cannot determine what level of brain function he still has from his bleeding and stroke until he is out of the sedative fog that he has been lost in for 6 weeks. By this time next week, they are hopeful that he will be conscious enough to communicate his own wishes concerning further treatment and care.
My next older sister, Kathy, arrives next Friday from Iowa. It is her Spring Break from teaching in Des Moines and she will be a valuable resource in helping make decisions, one way or another. We will consult with all of our siblings, of course, before we make any definitive decisions. The emotional roller coaster of my own medical conditions seems to pale in comparison to the overwhelming needs of those around me. May I be a true "sur-thriver" in the midst of the refining process. Like the three Hebrews boys thrown into the fiery furnace, those observing suddenly saw a fourth figure, Jesus, of course, who delivered them. He is with us here and we will see his glory and deliverance. Robin
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
SUR-THRIVERS "HYPER-NIKE"
Seattle, WA 35 degrees, rainy and cold wind.
The apostle Paul invented a lot of words to describe the never before realities that the Risen Christ brought into the world. One of them in Romans 8:37 is "hyper-nike". Nike, as the company by that name so wisely chose, means to be victorious. What the apostle Paul does is intensify nike into a spiritually supernatural by-product of our personal relationship by faith with God. Most of our translations go like this:"in all these things we are more than conquerors (sur-thrivers) through him who loved us. For I have become absolutely convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:37-39.
There's a huge difference between surviving and sur-thriving. Survival means we just barely hold on by the tips of our fingers and finally are either rescued or perish. Survival leaves us destitute, having lost all just to persist. Survival is often an inspirational story of our own ingenuity and the will to live and is a great virtue. However, hyper-nike, sur-thriving comes from a different source and has eternal consequences. Kriss' sister Patty Jo is a sur-thriver.
First diagnosed with cancer 35 years ago while pregnant with her last daughter.She has sur-thrived, by the grace of God. She has gone through more surgeries, treatments, chemo, radiation, and sheer physical pain than any cancer patient I have ever known. How did it affect her? Well, today she is here in Seattle to support Kriss, my brother and myself in our hour of need. Her love and devotion for Christ simply will not allow her to fail to serve others with God's love. She has never allowed her limitations to define her life. She faces each day with a grace, charm and beauty that make you want to keep her around forever. As a single
Mom she has been an inspiration to her children and grandchildren and they call her "blessed". She loves to quilt and leave behind things of beauty for which she will be remembered. She is an amazing cook and loves to show hospitality to others. When she arrived on Sunday, she came well stocked. She knew that I am battling high blood sugar, due to my other treatments, and so she brought bags of healthy and appropriate food that will help lower those counts. She is a breath of fresh air for Kriss. They love to just sit and visit and go shopping and do all those things close sisters need to do, but don't find time to. If you would ask her about her life, she would give all the glory to God's grace and mercy. Despite all her trials and limitations, she is a living sur-thriver.
I am learning alot from Patty Jo about diet, self-control, perseverance and trust. She has been down this road with cancer 3 times longer than I and she has much to teach us all. In learning to adapt to new and often frightening experiences is where we encounter God's sur-thriving grace. Jesus assured the apostle Paul that "my power is perfected in your weakness". I don't think there is a time that I can remember when our nation and world seem so afraid and helpless to overcome the tremendous challenges we face. From next door to around the world, it would appear that chaos reigns and despair overflows into violence. Whether it is my battle with cancer, or my awareness of local and international events, I trust God's Word and promises that in all these things we are and we will be SUR-THRIVERS through him who loves us. I believe the essential element of sur-thriving is knowing God is with us and within us. Despite all the reasons to run and hide and hoard the love of God, these are the times when sur-thrivers rise like cream and glorify the God of abundant life.
Harrah, WA, July-Sept 1972 Working on the ranch.
Everyone arrived safely home from Europe and it was time to go to work. In those days you could work a decent summer job and save up enough $ to go to College for an entire year. Both Kriss and I worked the rest of the summer on the family ranch and moved to Bellingham, WA where I had been accepted as a student. I needed to declare a major, so I picked French Education. That would normally have taken two years to complete since I hadn't taken a single education course and would have to student teach one quarter. Those type of bureaucratic restrictions always can be renegotiated and I marched into the Registrar's Office with my Transcripts from studying in France, all in French. We had a cordial visit and then I suggested we compare my French Transcripts with various requirements for my teaching degree. She literally took my word for the content and scope of every class and I was able to get credit for at least a Quarter's Credits, without falsifying anything, just a little stretching of that clothing dollar. Next, I discovered that there were some required courses that were so lame that if you paid the tuition and passed the final, you could get credit for the class, NO BRAINER! After Fall Quarter I bought the text books, studied over Christmas break and passed a couple more requirements. Getting in supervision and student teaching all in 2 Quarters was going to be a bigger challenge, but not insurmountable. I negotiated and took overloads. I was in a supervised classroom winter quarter and student taught, while taking one final French class under the table. I graduated in nine months from arriving in Bellingham and saved a lot of time in the process.
The greatest part of our first year in Bellingham was reconnecting with friends and christian fellowship. We tried to join and be part of the Navigators Ministry, but they requested we might be more comfortable in a less structured setting. So we went back to our Friday Night Bible Study in our apartment and it blossomed. People we had know from our past and new friends came. God blessed that group in wonderful ways and we met people like Paul and Kim Thorne who remain some of our closest friends to this day. We didn't know what a student loan looked like if it landed on your head. So we both worked. I did the weekend slop-job in the student cafeteria, Kriss started out at Herfy's Hamburgers before working as a CNA in a nursing home. I envied my friend from Bellevue who was still playing college tennis and assured me a spot on the team, but I was a married man with responsibilities. You can't prolong adolescence forever, so I consoled myself at the end of my shift with a couple of creme-filled donuts. We graduated from college debt free and then it was decision time about God's next step in our lives.
The apostle Paul invented a lot of words to describe the never before realities that the Risen Christ brought into the world. One of them in Romans 8:37 is "hyper-nike". Nike, as the company by that name so wisely chose, means to be victorious. What the apostle Paul does is intensify nike into a spiritually supernatural by-product of our personal relationship by faith with God. Most of our translations go like this:"in all these things we are more than conquerors (sur-thrivers) through him who loved us. For I have become absolutely convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:37-39.
There's a huge difference between surviving and sur-thriving. Survival means we just barely hold on by the tips of our fingers and finally are either rescued or perish. Survival leaves us destitute, having lost all just to persist. Survival is often an inspirational story of our own ingenuity and the will to live and is a great virtue. However, hyper-nike, sur-thriving comes from a different source and has eternal consequences. Kriss' sister Patty Jo is a sur-thriver.
First diagnosed with cancer 35 years ago while pregnant with her last daughter.She has sur-thrived, by the grace of God. She has gone through more surgeries, treatments, chemo, radiation, and sheer physical pain than any cancer patient I have ever known. How did it affect her? Well, today she is here in Seattle to support Kriss, my brother and myself in our hour of need. Her love and devotion for Christ simply will not allow her to fail to serve others with God's love. She has never allowed her limitations to define her life. She faces each day with a grace, charm and beauty that make you want to keep her around forever. As a single
Mom she has been an inspiration to her children and grandchildren and they call her "blessed". She loves to quilt and leave behind things of beauty for which she will be remembered. She is an amazing cook and loves to show hospitality to others. When she arrived on Sunday, she came well stocked. She knew that I am battling high blood sugar, due to my other treatments, and so she brought bags of healthy and appropriate food that will help lower those counts. She is a breath of fresh air for Kriss. They love to just sit and visit and go shopping and do all those things close sisters need to do, but don't find time to. If you would ask her about her life, she would give all the glory to God's grace and mercy. Despite all her trials and limitations, she is a living sur-thriver.
I am learning alot from Patty Jo about diet, self-control, perseverance and trust. She has been down this road with cancer 3 times longer than I and she has much to teach us all. In learning to adapt to new and often frightening experiences is where we encounter God's sur-thriving grace. Jesus assured the apostle Paul that "my power is perfected in your weakness". I don't think there is a time that I can remember when our nation and world seem so afraid and helpless to overcome the tremendous challenges we face. From next door to around the world, it would appear that chaos reigns and despair overflows into violence. Whether it is my battle with cancer, or my awareness of local and international events, I trust God's Word and promises that in all these things we are and we will be SUR-THRIVERS through him who loves us. I believe the essential element of sur-thriving is knowing God is with us and within us. Despite all the reasons to run and hide and hoard the love of God, these are the times when sur-thrivers rise like cream and glorify the God of abundant life.
Harrah, WA, July-Sept 1972 Working on the ranch.
Everyone arrived safely home from Europe and it was time to go to work. In those days you could work a decent summer job and save up enough $ to go to College for an entire year. Both Kriss and I worked the rest of the summer on the family ranch and moved to Bellingham, WA where I had been accepted as a student. I needed to declare a major, so I picked French Education. That would normally have taken two years to complete since I hadn't taken a single education course and would have to student teach one quarter. Those type of bureaucratic restrictions always can be renegotiated and I marched into the Registrar's Office with my Transcripts from studying in France, all in French. We had a cordial visit and then I suggested we compare my French Transcripts with various requirements for my teaching degree. She literally took my word for the content and scope of every class and I was able to get credit for at least a Quarter's Credits, without falsifying anything, just a little stretching of that clothing dollar. Next, I discovered that there were some required courses that were so lame that if you paid the tuition and passed the final, you could get credit for the class, NO BRAINER! After Fall Quarter I bought the text books, studied over Christmas break and passed a couple more requirements. Getting in supervision and student teaching all in 2 Quarters was going to be a bigger challenge, but not insurmountable. I negotiated and took overloads. I was in a supervised classroom winter quarter and student taught, while taking one final French class under the table. I graduated in nine months from arriving in Bellingham and saved a lot of time in the process.
The greatest part of our first year in Bellingham was reconnecting with friends and christian fellowship. We tried to join and be part of the Navigators Ministry, but they requested we might be more comfortable in a less structured setting. So we went back to our Friday Night Bible Study in our apartment and it blossomed. People we had know from our past and new friends came. God blessed that group in wonderful ways and we met people like Paul and Kim Thorne who remain some of our closest friends to this day. We didn't know what a student loan looked like if it landed on your head. So we both worked. I did the weekend slop-job in the student cafeteria, Kriss started out at Herfy's Hamburgers before working as a CNA in a nursing home. I envied my friend from Bellevue who was still playing college tennis and assured me a spot on the team, but I was a married man with responsibilities. You can't prolong adolescence forever, so I consoled myself at the end of my shift with a couple of creme-filled donuts. We graduated from college debt free and then it was decision time about God's next step in our lives.
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