Lost in the Woods

It was a nice day and I decided that Lady and I had been on the Longfellow Creek Trail too many times lately.  We could do the neighborhood walk along the street.  That would be an hour walk and we hadn't done that in awhile.  Then I thought about a place I hadn't been in years. We could walk a short way to where I went with Byron the dog all the time.  There used to be a trail there and it led to a space where the sun shone through the trees which I called  "the chapel".  I would sit on a log and pray in a spot where God helped me through my darkest times.  These days I use it in my memory to talk to Jesus.  Ready to take the road less traveled, Lady and I crossed the winding street to enter the Puget Creek trail.

It looked a little overgrown and muddy at first but there was a thin trail.  I figured I knew the way and felt up to the challenge.  After all we could turn around if things got too bad and go home.    I knew there was a creek down far below but there was so much foliage that I couldn't even see it.  Much of the trail had eroded into the ravine. Okay, I've walked in mud before and I knew about the creek below but if I was very careful, I would make it, right?  We squished along and made our way.  An unfamiliar  large fallen tree stood in the path and we inched our way around it.  We came near to "the chapel" but it had changed.  There was no place to sit but I could see the sun through the trees.  I stood there for a bit soaking in the beauty and then it was time to go back the way we came.  We got to the felled tree and then tried to take the trail as we found it.  We must have taken a wrong turn or maybe that trail wasn't as wide as we thought.  Soon there was no trail, only blackberry bushes.  I tried following Lady thinking she would find the trail but all we found were short paths with dead ends. We were on the opposite side of the creek that we'd started on (how did that happen?).  I tried breaking through the bushes with my body and tried to use Lady's leash as a tool.  It was getting to be time to pick up Mr. D from work.   Cell phone in hand I called and told him both where we were and that I would call again if we didn't get home in time.  We made our way through the thorns and the mud with me falling several times.  It was so hard to get back up because there were only thorny branches to help lift me up.  I wished that I was in better condition and could get up without using my hands.  When I realized there was no way that I could pick up my husband on time I called him and said that I might be calling 911 to get out. I thought we were close to the road because I could see power lines.  We came to a place about 10 feet from the power lines where the blackberry bushes became very dense, too thick to make it through.  I fell once more and was too exhausted to get up. I knew then that we weren't getting out of there without help.

The following is my call, not an exact replication:

 "911, what is your emergency?"
"I'm lost in the woods and can't find my way out."
"What is the street address?"
"I don't know, I'm lost.  I'm by some power lines near Puget Creek."
"What do you think the police can do for you?"
"I don't think I need the police.  I need the fire department."
"Okay, I'll transfer you to the fire department."

Fortunately they were able to get within yelling distance by tracking my cell phone signal.  I yelled back at them and shook some bushes to help them find me.  All through this my faithful dog was with me.  She started growling when we heard there voices but we convinced her that they were the good guys.  As one of the firefighters made his way to me with a machete he said, "I feel like Micheal Douglas" (Remember Romancing the Stone?).  To my surprise we were not by the road.  I was taken by the hand and we walked gingerly up the unstable hill to the fire truck.  They kept on encouraging Lady up the hill as she kept coming back down and checking on my welfare.  We finally made it to street and truck.  They offered to take us back in the fire truck and exhausted I took them up on it. I'd never ridden in a fire truck before.  It's one giant step up and one giant step down.  I got in first and Lady followed.  They took us home.  Muddied, scratched up, and full of stickers, I showered and collapsed on the bed.

I have this saying, "God doesn't protect from stupid," but that doesn't keep him from being with me while I'm dealing with the consequences of foolhardy decisions.  He's there the whole time guiding me home.

A Day Off

The Crumpet Shop at Pike Place Market

This morning I took my car in for maintenance to take advantage of my day off. I took Lady with me so that we could have adventures.  We dropped the car off at Honda of Downtown Seattle and took off for Pike Place Market.  Since it was only a little after 10 am vendors were just starting to set up and it was pretty quiet.  We walked through the market and stopped off at The Crumpet Shop for some tea and a crumpet with butter and strawberry preserves.  Yum!  Of course I had to share my crumpet with Lady with her big brown soulful eyes.  We sat outside for some prime people watching.

Lady looking bored as I take her picture at The Crumpet Shop

Then it was time to take the bus home.  I got our Orca Cards out, paid our fare, and off we went for a quiet afternoon in West Seattle.

Surprised by Grace

This Lent Father John has been strongly suggesting that we partake in the Sacrament of Reconciliation well before Easter.  I like to confess before a priest who doesn't already know me.  Actually I don't like to go to confession at all but since Father John suggested it, why not?  I was looking for something else on the Seattle University calendar when I noticed that today, my day off from work they had confession scheduled at the Chapel of St. Ignatius from 11:45 am to 12:30 pm followed by daily mass.  I set my alarm, checked out bus schedules and off I went.  I got to campus early and had coffee at the student center.  I found my way to the chapel but couldn't find the reconciliation room.  I asked and was told that the priest who was to hear confession wasn't coming today. I was disappointed and relieved.  Maybe God didn't want me to go to confession with a priest today after all.  It was still well before mass.  I went to the reservation chapel to pray in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  I confessed before Jesus and felt his healing.  All the while I was hearing a cantor practicing and saw that the chapel was beginning to fill.  I noticed that people were bringing in booklets for mass and went to get one for myself.  That's when I found out that today was the beginning of a Novena of Grace: A 9-Day Preached Lenten Retreat, Finding My Way Home.

Oh, God wanted me to be here at the Chapel of St. Ignatius for an entirely different reason from the one I had planned.  God is indeed a God of surprises.  I need to find my way home.  I've been struggling this Lent with the prayers of imagination that are suggested in An Ignatian Prayer Adventure from Loyola Press.

I can't seem to get the hang of it, imagining the sights and sounds of the times of Jesus.  Father Paul Fitterer, SJ, one of the presenters guided us in imagining being with Jesus.  He said that we could use a scene from scripture, we could use our home, or a special place.  I knew the exact place, a place where I had prayed many times, a place in nature where the sun shines through the trees and where God listens.  I could imagine Jesus sitting with me there.  When Father Fitterer asked us what word Jesus had for us, Jesus said, "I love you."  I know, I've been singing "Jesus Loves Me" since I was 3 years old but this meant something special.

Back when I was in RCIA coming to know the Catholic faith Julie, one of the teachers told us that we were right where God wanted us to be, right in that moment.  Today God surprised me.

The Energy Bank and Marriage

My last check-up with the oncologist went well, no evidence of disease.  I have my last four month check in February and then we move to every six months.  I feel well and have lots of energy, unlike when was going through cancer treatment.  Then I had to space things out because there was only so much energy to be had.  Withdraw too much from the energy bank and there would be none.  It made me prioritize.

This September Mr. D fell and broke dominant left shoulder and his right elbow.  The elbow injury was merely a crack but the shoulder injury required two-hour surgery.  At first both his arms were in slings and I had to do many of his self-care tasks.  He wasn't allowed to lift more than a coffee cup with either hand.  We share the housework and he couldn't help.  He also slept a lot.  Thus I was reminded of the energy bank.  At first even going to the doctor was exhausting for him.  We could go to the store but we had to keep the energy bank in mind.  Too much time led to exhaustion.  Now almost a month post surgery he is doing much better.  He still can't lift much but he can do dishes and cook.  He sleeps a more normal schedule.  He still can't withdraw more from the energy bank than is available but he has more reserves.  He starts physical therapy this week.

All this has led me to think about how precious life is and how it can be taken away in an instant.  Mr. D is my love, my life-partner.  I have promised to be with him for better and for worse and in sickness and in health.  We've been through both the for poorer and for richer.  He's been through my sickness and health. The longer I'm married the more my vows mean something.  At marriage they were just words for a future I was clueless about.  The longer I'm married the more I love this man.

Good-bye Old Friend

                         Emilio

It was just last year when Hazzard our 16 year-old cat died in my arms. Last week thirteen year-old Emilio stopped eating.  I took him to West Seattle Animal Hospital on Wednesday.  Dr. Gomez was hopeful.  He was dehydrated but with fluids perhaps he could come out of this crisis.  We brought him in every day for subcutaneous fluids.  Mr. D and I did not want to poke him ourselves.  We are supposed to be the good guys.  I was still dirt to Emilio for taking him in to the vet at all.  Mr. D drove him in on Saturday while I was at work and Emilio's opinion of Mr.D dropped rapidly.  Every day we tried to get him to eat and some days he'd take a few bites and a few sips of chicken broth but it wasn't enough to make him strong.  On Saturday Dr. Bergstrom told me that we had to decide what we wanted to do.  Did we want to go for aggressive hospitalization and forced feeding or did we want euthanasia if he didn't get better.  I felt we could try fluids for the weekend and make a choice today, Monday.  There was no hurry.  Saturday night he took a turn for the worse.  He let me hold him and I knew that he would die soon but he "did not go gentle into that goodnight"   

He started having convulsions.  Fortunately the clinic is open on Sundays so I changed his fluid appointment to a euthanasia appointment.  By that time it wasn't a difficult decision at all; it was obvious.  He was so weak that the sedative to relax him stopped his heart.  There was no need for a second injection.

It's hard to say good-bye to an old pet.  They live such short lives compared to ours.  The time from kittenhood or puppyhood to old-age is so short but it is so wonderful.  I would not forgo the joy to forgo the sorrow.  Love is worth it.

Reconciliation

The church encourages us to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation at least once a year.  I usually work Saturdays when it's offered at Holy Rosary so I have a built in excuse.  This Saturday I'm working until 3 pm, plenty of time to get to Confession by 3:30. I don't know if it has been a year or more or less but it's time, something about that spiritual housecleaning business.   Yes, I can confess my sins to God and he will forgive me but there is something special about laying those sins before a priest and receiving absolution.  The dark sins are exposed to the light where they can't hide anymore behind my rationalizations.  The priest who has heard everything is not shocked by my sins and counsels me how to do better.  He is a flesh and blood representative of Jesus who tells me to "go and sin no more".  A penance is assigned which will help me repair my relationship with God.  I give my act of contrition saying that I am truly sorry for sinning against God and promising to do better.  I hear the words of absolution and am dismissed to once again go out into the world as a child of God. 

He comes anyway

"Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof" but Jesus comes anyway.  We are not worthy but the Lord loves us so much that he's willing to spend time with us.  May I always be willing to spend time with him.

Ash Wednesday 2012

Another Lent begins.  Another time to clear out the spiritual cobwebs.  Some give up something for Lent.  Others take on a new spiritual practice.  What keeps us from God?  What will bring us closer?

Last year after my struggle with breast cancer I decided to give up suffering for Lent.  I felt I'd suffered enough with all the things that come with a cancer diagnosis.  Suffering found me in ways that I couldn't have imagined. In March, Hazzard, my sixteen year-old cat died.  He had kidney disease and so his passing wasn't a surprise, it was just painful.  He was an old friend.  He didn't want to be alone when he died and so he died in my arms.  That was hard, that was difficult, but I was shocked at the suffering that was to come.  

Losing a pet is like losing one of the family but it doesn't compare to the loss of someone from the human family.  In April Andrew was killed in a motorcycle accident three days from his twenty-fifth birthday.  He was part of our neighborhood's extended family.  He and his sisters and my son and daughters would migrate from house to house, usually the boys at one and the girls at the other.  I watched him while his parents worked.  As a young man he moved into the house next door to me and started raising his son.  He later moved to a different spot in the neighborhood later but I would see him skateboarding with his dog down the street or taking his son sledding.  "Hi Andrew."  "Hi Cheryl".  And then he was gone, dead, abruptly dead.  It was like I had been kicked in the gut.  This year I am not giving up suffering.

The first reading for Ash Wednesday from the prophet Joel tells us:

Even now, says the LORD,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the LORD, your God.

I've approached this Lent with a different attitude.  I am ready to do what I usually do.  I am giving up something that I can give up (don't ask me to give up coffee)  and something that is keeping me from spending time with God and from following his command to "love one another".  I am giving up Facebook and Twitter for the duration and plan to use the extra time gained getting closer to God and to my friends.  It's time to do a little face-to-face or telephoning or physical letter writing to get closer to the people that I love.  I guess the old fashioned ways of communicating are something that I will take up for Lent.  I'm going to try to work against the excuses for not spending dedicated time with God.

These actions won't keep suffering from knocking at my door but they will lead to a healthier relationship with God.  Peace be with you this Ash Wednesday.

  

Mrs. Dermody, Language Police

The other day one of my customers told me she was proud of me.  I was puzzled and asked her what she meant.  She said that she has watched me since I returned to work a year ago. Her husband has been in remission and has gone through cancer treatment and she was pleased at how well I was doing.  I told her that  there wasn't anything that I had done to make me well again.  Others have fought the same battle and have lost. I still survive and don't feel special just grateful.  I just played the hand I was dealt.

The language police part of me that wanted to take the compliment apart.  I looked up the definition of pride in Dictionary.com which says that "It may refer to an affectionate admiration or a justifiable pride concerning someone else."  Oh, that's what she meant, an affectionate admiration.  I was more thinking along the lines of justifiable pride like when I'm proud of my kids. Okay, thanks, which is what I should have said in the first place.

Honoring the Dead: A letter to Dad

Hi Dad,
It's been eleven years since you died at age 89 on November 4, 2000.  You would be 100 years old by now and we'd probably still be driving each other crazy.  Ah, we drove each other crazy but how we loved each other.  Your death was not unexpected.  You had been in and out of the hospital that last year more times than I could count.  After  much deliberation you decided to go into assisted living but you didn't stay there long until you were in the hospital again.  You were to go to a nursing home to get you back on your feet but you knew you were dying of emphysema and you were tired of fighting.  We weren't ready to let you go but had to listen when you decided to go with comfort measures only.

I got the call to come home to Moses Lake to come see you.  I came over on a Greyhound Bus with enough clothes to last me a couple of days.  I ended staying much longer.  I called my manager at my new job at Barnes and Noble in Seattle and told her the situation.  She said, "Take as long as you need."  I began participating in the vigil at your bed.  My oldest brother and I took the day shift.  My youngest brother and sister took the night shift.  My middle brother couldn't come because he had already taken off a lot of time from work during the year and couldn't manage any more.  My aunt flew in to see you one last time.  She had been very young when her father died and as big sister's husband you helped fill the roll. We kept you company on your journey.  On that last night the nurse told us we'd better call everyone because you would probably die that night.  We gathered around your bed, sons, daughters, grandsons, so that we could help you with your journey.  The nurse told us to keep talking to you even if you didn't seem responsive; you would know that you were not alone.  You died.  A young friend of the family and of yours had us make a circle of prayer around you.  You were in a place where you didn't have to labor to breathe.  You were Home.

I miss you, Dad.  I miss talking about the weather on the phone with you.  You often wanted us to send some of our Seattle rain to the dry-lands.  We didn't see eye-to-eye on religion or politics.  It was much safer to talk about rain; on that we could agree.  Oh, I want you to know that we take better care of our car now.  Mr. D and I take it in for regular maintenance so maybe you wouldn't remind us that you told us that the Dodge that died needed looking at.  Yup, we shoulda listened, but you know how kids are.

Love you lots and lots,
C

Honoring the Dead: A Letter to Andrew

Dear Andrew,

It's been half a year since you died.  It was in the spring time and it seemed so out of character for Spring to be a season of sadness.  Most of the people that I have mourned die in the fall or winter. You died on a rainy night in April; it was almost a monsoon.  You took your motorcycle.  I wish you could have taken the Volvo.  Whenever I ask myself why you had to die I have to remind myself that it was a dark and stormy night and the road was slick.  The other driver didn't see you.  When you were little your family had a bird that got caught by the family cat.  Your sister cried, "Why, why did the bird have to die."  You answered, "Because the cat had sharp teeth and claws".  There was no cosmic conspiracy.  It was just life.

A lot has been happening since you passed.  Did you know that they finally have that new skateboard park at Delridge.  I remember you riding up and down the street on your skateboard.  You would have liked the park.  I would love to see you flying up and down those curves. You have a new brother-in-law and a new niece.  One of your sisters got married one day in August; the other had a baby the next.  It's amazing how much sorrow and joy were packed into such a brief time for your family.  Your son is growing into an amazing three year-old.  You, your son's mom, and your parents have done a fantastic job!

I miss you so much.  Every time I see someone dressed like you I see you.  When you died I begged God to give you back.  I knew that wasn't possible in the grand scheme of things but I asked the way a child would ask a parent to fix something that is hopelessly broken.  I watched you grow up alongside my children.  I took care of you while your parents worked. You were almost a brother to my kids and you were almost a son to me.  I'm glad that you were a part of my life.

Love,
C

Honoring the dead

Today is the Feast of All Saints.  Tomorrow is the Feast of All Souls.  November is the month in which the Catholic Church turns its eyes toward our beloved dead.  At Holy Rosary we have been invited to put pictures of loved ones who have died on a special table to honor them.  We believe that death is not the end.  We pray for the dead and they pray for us.  In this change of seasons as the light turns to darkness for more hours, the leaves turn beautiful colors, and the weather grows colder I am drawn toward remembering those whom I have lost.  I am writing letters this month to the dead to honor their very special place in my heart.  Stay tuned.

Reading recommendation time

I've read many good books lately.  My Kindle has been very busy.

Please Look After Mom by Kyung-Sook Shin
A mother with dementia goes missing at a train station.  It's told from many points of view.

Before I Go to Sleep: A Novel by S.J. Watson
A woman's memories are lost every time she goes to sleep.  She must become reacquainted with her husband each morning.  She hides a diary so that she can make sense of her life.  Is her husband hiding something?  A hard to put down thriller.

Dreams of Joy: A Novel by Lisa See
A continuation of the story in Shanghai Girls which was also fantastic.  A young American Chinese woman runs away to China during the time of Mao to get away from the mother that she's just found out is her aunt.  She finds life very different from the Chinese utopia she imagines.

The Leftovers by Tom Perrotta
People disappear in what might be the Rapture.  This is nothing like the Left Behind series.  This is actually well written.  Those "leftover" try to continue with their lives some by joining a the Guilty Remnant whose members dress in white, take a vow of silence, and must smoke cigarettes.

Children and Fire: A Novel and Stones from the River by Ursula Hegi.  I had enjoyed Stones from the River many years ago so when Children and Fire came out I had to read it.  Some of the characters are in both books.  They deal with the first world war, the depression Germany had afterwards, and the resulting Third Reich.  Both show how simple it is to be eased into evil and the price of its resistance.  I re-read Stones from the River and realized once again how excellent it was.  You don't need to read one book to understand the other but do yourself a favor and read both of them.

Then They Came for Me: A Family's Story of Love, Captivity, and Survival by Maziar Bahari and Aimee Malloy.  I saw Mr. Bahari on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart speaking about his ordeal in Iran during and after the elections in Iran.  He went there to report on a most exciting time of hope for great change and ended up imprisoned and tortured in Evin prison. He survived by remembering his father and his sister who had suffered in Iran's most notorious prison in the past under different leaders

Enjoy, friends.

A Happy Birthday

Let's just get this out of the way.  The 58th anniversary of my birth fell on the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.  I wonder if people born on December 7th (Pearl Harbor anniversary) have the same sort of problem I do.  People wonder if I should be bummed about having my birthday on such a solemn day.  I answer that I was born long before those terrorists were in diapers.  I mourn the state the world is in but I celebrate my birthday.

Last year I was really sick from chemo for my birthday and couldn't enjoy it at all.  Although there is something to be said about being alive to celebrate one's birthday, so last year had something going for it after all.  This whole summer I've been grateful for the contrast between this year and last year.  This year Lady and I can walk as far as we want.  I can let nature unfold all around us.  I felt like I totally missed last summer.  Bed is no substitute for walking along the creek listening to birdsong and reveling in the joy of life.  My birthday weekend was great this year.  After work on Saturday Martin took me to A Terrible Beauty, a new Irish pub in West Seattle.  I had a couple of pint of Harps and I even had cake for dessert!  Then yesterday on my birthday proper the festivities continued.  My friend Moe from church made a card for me, there were lots of happy birthdays on Facebook, my son called from Oakland, my daughter on the road texted me, my brother called me,  and my oldest daughter and her husband took Mr. D and me out for dinner at The Rusty Pelican in Wallingford.  Ahhh, satisfaction.  

Oncology appointment

Yesterday a customer at the store was congratulating me on my positive attitude. I was happy to be working in a place with windows on a sunny day rather than being bummed out about it. This morning as I was driving to my oncology appointment I was smugly patting myself on the back for my good attitude. Then, on Delridge Way traffic comes to a slow crawl at Edmunds Street. It is one slow car length ahead at a time. As we are crawling along someone slams into my rear end. Great, you're going 5 miles and hour and you can't keep from hitting me! Both of us get out and seeing there is no damage we continue on our way. My attitude is not so positive! Okay, we finally make the West Seattle Bridge. Traffic looks like it's moving. Hooray, that wasn't so bad. I might even make it to my appointment on time, no worries. I don't take the freeway because it is really slow as usual. I take my normal route to the clinic on 23rd. La, de, dah. I get to McLellan and there is sign that says 23rd closed. I have to detour on Rainier Avenue and so does everyone else! When I get to the clinic, I can't find a spot in the lot until I cruise for a time. Growl! I've got a negative attitude. At least the clinic staff is kind and I get to see my doctor. Moral of the story: Don't think you're so hot. You might get a lesson in humility.

I'm happy to say that I'm doing really well. I had no complaints for the doctor and he didn't find anything for me to complain about. The Arimidex is not causing me any side effects that I know of. I just pop the pill every night and I'm fine. I have another four months before I see my oncologist again and have a mammogram in another year.

There is some sad news from our store. Two of us who were battling cancer are now back but on Saturday the third person, a checker for many years, lost her battle. We had been hoping she would be back. Rest in peace, Barb.

First post treatment mammogram

I had my baseline mammogram done this morning. This is just routine. Still I felt a little anxious. It was a routine mammogram that caught the last cancer. I'm not worried, just cautious. After all, they nuked my cancer back to the stone age. I have an appointment with my oncologist on Tuesday to discuss the results.

I am amazed at how good I feel. I had gained weight with treatment and now I am slowly losing weight with Weight Watchers online program. I'm eating healthier and walking a lot. I'm sure that's got a lot to do with how healthy I feel. It also doesn't hurt that chemicals and radiation have stopped bombarding my body. I just hope it stays that way (see above paragraph).

Progress

Radiation is over and I get my port out next week. It's been wonderful but tiring to be back at work. It's been amazing how many of my customers are cancer survivors. I had no idea there were so many of us. There are stories to be told of struggles with chemo and lost hair. One young man hasn't cut his hair for over ten years. He's not willing to part with an inch of his hair. I can't say I blame him but I think I'll get mine cut when the time comes into some cute style. Right now my hair is a quarter of an inch long so there isn't much danger of me putting the scissors to it any time soon.

Radiation was definitely easier than chemo. It gave me a fatigue I could manage. I'd get up, get my treatment, take a nap, eat lunch, and then go to work. Through it all I was able to take Lady for walks and build up my stamina. I am working part time which is plenty. Most of all I am happy and ready to face my future with hope.

The next phase

It snowed Tuesday night and the snow stayed less than 24 hours. This is a picture of Longfellow Creek on Wednesday. I had some library books to return and some holds to pick up so Lady and I decided to walk to Delridge Library via the creek trail. It is now raining. Welcome to Seattle.

I'm feeling great right now. It's been over a month since my last chemo. I'm noticing fuzz on my head. I still look bald but there is hope. I had salt and pepper hair before; the fuzz is gray. Wednesday I start my radiation treatments. They will occur every workday for the next 6 weeks. After Wednesday I'll be able to tell work when they can schedule me. I'm looking forward to working again and having life a little more predictable.

New beginnings

Shortly it will be 2011. I'm looking forward to the new year. Every day I feel better. Every day I can push myself a little farther. God is good. I know that my radiation therapy starts in January but that is the future. This is the now that is very easy to exult in. Seattle's sun is shining. It's cold but beautiful.

I have really enjoyed the holiday season. My son and his significant other are visiting from Oakland and my 2 daughters and their husbands live in Seattle. It's so nice to have all my children close at hand. It's so nice to feel well enough to enjoy them totally. I got to be at the extended Dermody family at Christmas with my grandniece, almost 9 months old. She's cruising around and it's so fun to see her get where she wants. Also, being able to buy toys again for Christmas, priceless!

May all of you have a blessed New Year and may there be peace in your hearts.

Thoughts on getting my energy back, the meaning of suffering, and the Incarnation

I am getting my energy back and it is wonderful! Lady and I have been walking on hills. The 'up' is getting a little easier each time. I am rediscovering Longfellow Creek. Today we went on a short walk because Lady is a bit under the weather with gastrointestinal issues. It's so amazing to take my morning shower and not be exhausted afterwards. The nails are starting to heal. They had been quite painful. They have stopped bleeding and so has my nose. Now I just wish my hair would grow back. All in good time, my friend, all in good time. I need to trust in the slow work of God that Pierre Teilhard de Chardin wrote about.

Next month I start radiation therapy. I'm optimistic that it will be better than chemo as advertised. I know I'll be tired; I've heard that from the medical people and friends and family. I'm a little nervous though. Every time I start to really recover, I get knocked down again. Oh well, it's time to relish the now and put it deeply in my memory for tougher times. I sometimes complain about the being present to the now when I am having trouble.

Oh dear, that brings to mind the difficult questions like the meaning of suffering. Suffering is no joy for me and I do not seek it. It is part and parcel of this human life, a part that Jesus shared with us. He was not enthusiastic about suffering but he endured it. He knew what it was to be hungry, to be betrayed by a close friend, and what it was to be tortured. The incarnation of Jesus is truly amazing. He knew what it meant to be human and chose to come to Earth anyway.

Oh Lord, give me the strength to bear my crosses with grace.