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.

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.

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.

Beyond Words

Yesterday I felt well enough to go to mass. I usually go to the 11:30 am Sunday mass because I like to sleep later than the morning-people parishioners. It's usually a pretty quiet mass since the families with children for the most part attend the 5pm Saturday or 9am Sunday contemporary music masses. We have the organ and the traditional choir. This time the 11:30 was full of life. We had four baptisms, four new infants brought into the faith. We had a lot of kids counting the friends and families of the newly baptized making our normally sedate mass exciting.

Baptism is new birth in Christ. I don't remember my own baptism. My parents brought six week-old me to the font and I was reborn, marked with the cross of Christ. When we have baptisms at Holy Rosary I feel reborn. When the sponsors and parents make the baptismal vows for the babies we the assembly renew our own baptismal vows. We are sprinkled with the same Holy Water in which the babies were baptized. What a new beginning to the week!

The privilege of going to church

I'm able to make it to church every other week now. Right after chemo, I'm too nauseated and fatigued. It makes me appreciate going to mass more than ever. I miss weekly Eucharist and I miss my church friends.

Yesterday was my day to go to mass. I arrived in my pink scarf, a sign, a person with cancer who made it out of the house. I saw many people I haven't seen in months. One of our number, a woman in her eighties had injured herself in a fall and had a long rehabilitation. It was so good to see her. I had been afraid that for her this would be the fall that disabled her for life. Thank God it wasn't. Another woman had also been out for months with health problems. She was back. There were a couple of women behind me in the pew that I didn't recognize so I introduced myself. They were an adult daughter from Seattle and her mother from out of state. The mother noticed me as one of the afflicted and asked how I was doing. It turns out that she had fought a similar battle against breast cancer ten years ago and she is now fine. She asked me to repeat my name and told me that she would pray for me and that she really meant it. We talked about how important it is for us to have people praying for us. She said that she could feel the prayers of those who had prayed for her. I can't feel prayers but my heart knows that friends, family, and even strangers are praying for me giving me courage and hope.

The mass proceeds from Liturgy of the Word to Liturgy of the Eucharist. We pray the Eucharistic Prayer and we sing the communion procession song of the day. I walk forward realizing how privileged I am to receive Jesus. I eat the bread and drink the wine that are His Very Self. I go back to my pew and reflect on how Jesus is coursing through my body and that everyone in that communion procession is receiving Jesus as well. We are truly the Body of Christ and we are meant to be transformed.

How does Christ being infused in me transform me? What does it mean for my life? As a person with cancer it means that my cancer is not just about me. It is about my friends, family, co-workers, fellow parishioners, doctors, nurses, technicians, receptionists, and phlebotomists. All are affected by my diagnosis and all need love. I know that I can't take care of everyone's feelings; that's not my job. I need to be a calm presence when I can and receive the love and care of others when I can't, when I need someone to be a calm presence. I need to be transformed by Christ.

My breast doesn't hurt anymore

My breast doesn't hurt anymore. I don't know when it stopped but I can be hugged and I can reach high above my head. It's amazing. I think I expected the pain to last for months if not forever. Even the incision arount the port is healed. There's a little tenderness when I lie on it but not much. After round #1 of chemo I was really sick but I feel pretty good now. I have my next chemo in two days; it's time to get sick again. I can do it, especially after I've found that I'm not nauseous and fatigued all the time. I'll have a few days of awfullness and then I will begin to rise again. I was talking to God just after my last chemo and told him that I didn't think I could do this chemo thing if I was going to be sicker than a dog all the time. You see, I thought that was going to last forever too.

I think the most difficult part this whole thing is keeping hope alive when I am at my sickest. I need to know that the Promised Land comes after the Desert. It helps to know that God understands my despair. The Psalms are so helpful in expressing pain. One that has helped me is Psalm 55. It starts, "Listen God to my prayer; do not hide from my pleading, hear me and give answer. I rock with grief..." (Psalm 55:2-3a, NAB). The Word of God does not sugarcoat pain. Life is good now but it's back to the Desert in two days.

I've got a couple more book recommendations. The first is In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith, another installment of the #1 Ladies Detective Agency. Mma. Ramotswe's no-good ex-husband shows up and tries to blackmail her. He doesn't know whom he is dealing with.

The second is Juliet, Naked, by Nick Hornby. Annie's significant other Duncan is obsessed with Tucker Crowe, a 1980's musician who abruptly ends his career after a trip to a bathroom bar. Duncan oversees a fan website dedicated to Mr. Crowe who hasn't been heard from in over twenty years. Annie posts on the website, Tucker e-mails her, and the fun ensues.

If I have to be on medical leave, I might as well have fun.

Living my life

I've been thinking about the next few months as something to get through rather than to be lived. I've been wrong. I was reading The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life last night. James Martin's father is dying and Father Martin isn't sure that he can walk the path of his father's suffering. A friend, Sister Janice asks him, "Can you surrender to the future that God has in store for you?" He concludes that (obedience) "is stepping onto the path of daily life and continuing on it".

I have a long road ahead of me. I know that in these next few months there will be some really tough times but I also know that there will be times to treasure in my heart. Each day of my life is a gift from God. Each breath that I take is because God sustains me. I have to surrender to what God has in store for me. In surrendering there is trust. I trust that he will be with the whole way. I'll know more what chemotherapy is like after it starts. I think that part of my fears are the fears of the unknown and that's where I have to step out in faith with God.