Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Maundy Thursday

Sometimes I find a room, close the door and weep. I weep for my failures, my shortcomings, my sins – yeah, that’s plural. I weep for the sins of commission and for the sins of omission. I long to be a better Christian, to be filled with the Holy Spirit and to be able to discern when someone other than me is hurting. Then to be able to comfort and ease the pain through what I have experienced and lived in my own life.


Life isn't always pretty, in fact it can be downright ugly. Even in the realm of Christian community. We see ugliness, hurt, death, disease and broken families. When will we be able to pour the oil and anoint the heads of those the walking wounded? When will we see past our politics and differences and come together for the sake of Christ and for community?

When will we be able to live in the light of Eucharist Theology – knowing that our hearts, like the bread, are broken. When will we pour out ourselves like the wine? Oh Lord, break my chalice, my jar of clay – and allow the wine to flow out and touch all it comes into contact with.


Then heal the broken vessel in the manner of Kintsugi – the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust, thereby making a perfectly imperfect piece of beauty. Yes…broken, yet healed and beautiful in the eyes of God. The repaired vessels are indeed more beautiful, more compassionate and also stronger than before they were broken.

I long to be healed of my infirmities, but to claim with boldness the quote from Sara Miles' book Jesus Freak: Feeding Healing Raising the Dead which reads, “Prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship with God…and through relationship there can be healing in the absence of cure.”

I want to know that my life has mattered, that for the sake of Christ it will count. That this new stage of life I am entering…no embracing…will count for the sake of eternity.

I need to garner strength for the coming battle and find my inner warrior. Somehow in my mind’s eye I see a woman warrior not unlike St. Joan of Arc. Depending upon what happens on Thursday; I will need the strength of a woman warrior to battle against cancer. I may need to remind myself more than once that instead of asking “How much time do I have left?” the better question may very well be, “What options do I have?” With this being said, I may be quiet for awhile for healing. I would appreciate your prayers.
“And who knows but that you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this and for this very occasion?” Esther 4:14  Yes…for such a time as this.
There was a wonderful program on PBS Sunday evening - Winning By Living: One Cancer Story. 60 Minutes shared a hopeful story about how polio could possibly be the cure for cancer. Yes hope…and light in the face of the dark night of the soul.
And so I pray: God my Father, Christ my Lord, Holy Spirit creative force of the universe – hear my prayer: Draw me closer to You. Heal my infirmity, if not a cure then make it count.  
Even so, Amen.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Vocabulary Words

Nodule…

Mass…

Adenocarcinoma…

Cancer...


New vocabulary words. spoken.to.me. …by three different physicians. And icy hands grasp my heart and squeeze until I feel like I can no longer breathe. BREATHE.BREATHE. Take a breath…and don’t forget to exhale. Slowly. Wrap your head around this diagnosis…and your heart, don’t forget to include your heart…don’t forget to use your brain, your logic, your reason.

And don’t forget…it’s not just about you. YES it is just about me. What about husband? And daughter? And son? And mother? And brothers? And my job? AND…AND…AND…

How long does one sit on one’s Pity Pot before the call to action comes? How long do we wallow in self pity and muck and mire? Is the call to “fear not” different from the commercialized slogan of “no fear”?

Matthew 14:22-33


Then Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side of the lake, while he sent the people away. After sending the people away, he went up a hill by himself to pray. When evening came, Jesus was there alone; and by this time the boat was far out in the lake, tossed about by the waves, because the wind was blowing against it.

Between three and six o'clock in the morning Jesus came to the disciples, walking on the water. When they saw him walking on the water, they were terrified. “It's a ghost!” they said, and screamed with fear.

Jesus spoke to them at once. “Courage!” he said. “It is I. Don't be afraid!”

Then Peter spoke up. “Lord, if it is really you, order me to come out on the water to you.”

“Come!” answered Jesus. So Peter got out of the boat and started walking on the water to Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he was afraid and started to sink down in the water. “Save me, Lord!” he cried.

At once Jesus reached out and grabbed hold of him and said, “What little faith you have! Why did you doubt?”

They both got into the boat, and the wind died down. Then the disciples in the boat worshiped Jesus. “Truly you are the Son of God!” they exclaimed.

Lord, Lord? I lift my hand to you, pull me from the muck and mire so that I, too, may claim “Truly you are the Son of God!” But… but… what happens in the absence of a cure? Does that mean you are not the Son of God? Or I am somehow not worthy of healing? Do I not have enough faith?


Author Sara Miles wrote, “Prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship with God…and through relationship there can be healing in the absence of cure.”


The saga has begun. Surgery is scheduled for April 2nd. This Tuesday I will be having a pulmonary function test. Wednesday it is a PET scan. A positron emission tomography (PET) scan is an imaging test that allows doctors to check for disease in your body. The scan uses radioactive tracers in a special dye. These tracers are injected into a vein in your arm and are then absorbed by your organs and tissues.

I continue to learn. Learn about things in which I once held no interest. Learning is good. Learning is active participation.


Here is the most important thing I’ve learned thus far: Have a good network of persons who will be your prayer warriors. And I do.


There have been occasions when I have been one of many who had prayed for persons and they have said, "I could literally 'feel' your prayers." I thought that was 'hooey', but just this morning I was overcome with such a sense of calm & peace... I know, that I know, that I know - this is the power of prayer!

I can say with confidence, I am not afraid. That does not mean that at some point I will not waver when entering that tube for the PET scan, or laying on a surgical table find that my heart is pounding faster. What I know is this - God's got this and I am asking God to “make it count.” Indeed, Abba, Father, “make it count.”

From this point forward, my posts maybe fewer. Since the end of January, I’ve had 14 medical/testing appointments. I share this not to gain your pity or sympathy, but as you think of me, please pray. Pray for God’s will. Pray that this entire event will have counted in the scope of eternity. Pray that I am able to Praise God through the storm…in spite of the storm.

I will leave you with a question: How just and righteous would God be if he only allowed “bad things” to happen to unbelievers? Perhaps he allows bad things to happen to believers so that others may see a bit of His glory. I certainly did with my friend “B”. In the absence of healing, I pray to be a vessel like she was. I pray my vessel, my pot of clay is cracked…fractured, so that all the contents may overflow, be spilled out and brush glimpses of glory to those who come into contact with it. 

Even so, Amen.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

...and so it goes!

The angiogram was clear! There were no coronary blockages and thus, no stents were placed, in spite of what of what the CT scan showed and the awful results of the cardio stress test. God is good and I believe in the power of prayer and miracles! I remained off work for the week. The angiogram was done through my wrist. It was quite tender and swollen. Limited use precluded typing or lifting anything over five pounds. Forgetting and trying to turn a doorknob was awful.

Day two after the procedure I developed a fever and a rash. The fever is due to a localized “crud” that’s been traveling around. It involves upper respiratory symptoms and lots of coughing and sneezing. The rash was due to the surgical tape that was used. I’d forgotten I have that issue. A teensy bit of “itch” cream applied very sparingly is very beneficial.

The Hubs has been very good at care giving. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry – what a guy! But then, he’s been doing that since his retirement. I must admit that during the dating years I watched the way he treated his mother, grandmother and sisters prior to committing to any kind of a relationship. I knew from observation, that my name was “safe” in his mouth and that in the event of a catastrophic illness I could trust him to be my caregiver. He meant the “in sickness and in health” pledge.

Since Monday’s angiogram turned out so well INSPITE of what the CT scan showed and the awful results of the cardio stress test, I am hoping for similar results with the nodule in my lung. Who am I to argue that this was:  a) a bad CT test  or b) (and I am soooo leaning towards b) this was the result of prayers and healing!

In the event the results do not turn out that way, then it is my prayer that the Lord God will “make it count” and that I will be able to face what comes with grace, dignity and trust.

Years ago, the Hubs and I purchased a prearranged funeral plan. Yeah, yeah… morose, isn’t it. Or not. It’s been paid off for years now and after moving to Tucson we needed to find a mortuary service that honored the plan we had. Not a problem! We met with counselors and discussed the plan and what was provided. We not doing fancy funeral finery, we determined cremation was more in line with our belief system and for the care of the earth. The place we settled upon stated, “you know, by purchasing this when you did, you saved $1500 each.” Good to know, but more importantly, our children will not have to make decisions while going through the grieving process.

The church were we attend has a Memorial Rose Garden. There is a lovely wall where the deceased’s info is placed and the ashes are interred in the rose garden. It is a lovely, peaceful spot. That is where I wish to be. There are benches, Arizona beauty and a sense of peace that permeate this space.

Now… back to the matter at hand. If you are so inclined, please pray that when I meet with Dr. Kim, the cardiothoracic surgeon on Tuesday that I will have clarity and the ability to communicate. I want this "thing" removed and the sooner, the better. This will be our first meeting and we will hopefully be discussing options for the nodule in my lung. Biopsy, excision, etc. Thank you.

No matter the outcome of this next process, it is my desire that I am able to face it with grace, dignity and trust. I want God to make this count!

Simply yours,


Tamara







Monday, March 2, 2015

Broken Hallelujahs


More often than not, I am on the verge of tears these days. They are the tears of compassion. Compassion for others, for humanity, for man’s inhumanity, for the world’s state of crisis.

Twenty-one Egyptian Coptic Christians beheaded by ISIS – in the year 2015, how can this happen? Where is the world outcry?

I find that when journaling my devotional thoughts I am also doodling. They are weeds. 
Specifically dandelions that have gone to fluff. We do not have dandelions in the Southwest the way we had them in the Midwest.

When my children were young, we would pluck the yellow dandelions and hold them under each other’s chin to see if it reflected. If it did, it meant we liked butter. I still like butter!

Later, when they turned to fluff, we pulled the heads off – a symbolic beheading – and would blow them into the wind with a wish. One head, thousand of seeds sent to germinate.

Will the martyred Coptic Christian heads symbolically germinate? Deeply within our hearts? Will the seeds of revival take root?

When we lived on the farm, I gardened. We grew beans, tomatoes, corn, bell peppers. I had herb gardens that grew lovely chamomile, sage, parsley, and thyme. The flower beds were a delight and I miss the peonies, even with all the ants they attracted.

Our son was nine and came into the kitchen to show me his latest find. It was a snake. A garter snake. I screamed, I ranted, I raved until he took it outside. He returned with a rather smug attitude knowing he had bested me.

Then, in all his nine-year-old wisdom, he started talking to me about the garden. He told me there were weeds popping up and I needed to take care of them. “Weeds,” he said, “are like sin. You need to care for them when they are small, before they take root.”

Who was this small child telling me about sin? Why was it hitting my heart dead on? Where had he learned this?

As I recall this I think how now as an adult he denies there is a God. How can this be, I wonder… Again I find myself at the foot of the cross praying for him by name.

My mind wanders and I think of those who had a hand in the beheading of the Egyptian Coptic Christians. They were once infants, suckling at their mothers’ breast, the beloved sons… who grew to be terrorists. How can this be, I wonder

God! God, how am I to pray? But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,” (Matthew 5:44). Really? Lord? You want me to pray for the terrorists, not just for the situation, or for those whose lives have been cut short at the hand of the terrorists?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brethren only, what do you do more than others? Do not even the tax collectors do so? Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.

That’s a very tall order, Lord! Indeed. A very tall order. Is this a step towards sanctification? Is it a test? Lately I wonder about all sorts of things. In the background Matt Redman’s 10,000 Reasons plays… Bless the Lord, O my soul.

I was blessed in the past two days to have shared three communions. Not that I seek Holy Communion as a means of holiness, but that it is my act of remembrance, my act of acknowledging the resurrection and the hope we have. This was an Emmaus Walk weekend and I participated in two open services that offered the broken bread and the cup. Sunday we were asked to assist with passing out the elements during our church services. I am always, always humbled to serve in this capacity.

I believe our lives should be lived as Eucharist Theology. Our hearts, like the bread are made to be broken and yet loved in all that brokenness. We should live our lives as the spilled wine, allowing ourselves and our lives to overflow, spill out and come into contact with those who desperately are thirsting.

Yes… brokenness… it is the Lenten season and I am filled with broken hallelujahs.


Even so. Amen.