We are on the way to Rochester today to spend a couple of days at the Mayo Clinic.  This is supposed to determine whether or not I am a candidate for the stem cell transplant.  I will keep you posted.
     I have resisted writing the blog on this theme for some time because I haven’t wanted to be misunderstood, especially of the intent of the blog.
     It is a blog on giving thanks for what so many people have done for us in this battle.
     At the top of the list is thanksgiving for all of the prayers.  Only heaven knows how many people have been praying for Teresa and me in this now five-month battle of two cancers.  Many of you reading this blog are praying and only God knows of those specific prayers.
     Paul often thanked his readers for their prayers without actually knowing the people who were doing the praying.  I very much relate with that and I thank you for praying.  Your prayers are making a difference, especially in my heart as I deal with things.
     Then there is thankfulness in my heart for so many expressions of love and encouragement that we have received.  Some of those have come on Facebook and on the church’s website.  Most of those we read but many we simply didn’t have the time nor the energy to respond to them.  That doesn’t mean that they haven’t been received with gratitude.
     The same would be true of some cards, emails, and texts.  If I responded to every one of them I might not be able to do much else.
     Please love us enough to know that if we haven’t responded, it sure wasn’t because we didn’t appreciate the encouragement. 
     The third area is my concern over mentioning it because I in no way want anyone to think the wrong thing.
     When we were told that we had a second cancer, a more serious one than the prostate cancer, we decided that returning to Mayo Clinic was our best option.
     So many people have wanted to help in some way.  Honestly, what can you do to practically help? 
     There has been some concerted effort to help us financially, knowing that there would be lots of expenses heading back to Rochester.
     I knew little about that until we received a book of gift cards and I was told that many folks had given money to help pay for the travel and lodging expenses.
     As I have shared in previous blogs, I am a lot like my mother who was the best giver I have ever known, but the worst receiver.  I am far from the giver my mom was but I am very close to being the receiver.
     I have been humbled by the response of people, the vast majority of them I have absolutely no clue who has given to help us.  Some of you reading this blog are likely some of the people who have given to help us.  I will likely never know what you have done.  Jesus said, “When you give, don’t let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.”
     Well, I have had no clue.  But I do have a great deal of thanksgiving for the loving response of so many people.  This is the only way that I know that I can thank some of you for your generosity and love.  Please accept it.
     However, herein is the struggle and why I have resisted writing this blog.  In no way do I want it to be seen as a “solicitation” going forward.
     The Lord has taken great care of Teresa and me financially over the years.  I am blessed beyond measure with far more than I could ever deserve.  We have ample savings to cover any of the medical and other expenses of dealing with the treatments, including likely spending a month in Rochester in the fall.
     So, please hear my heart in this.  We are humbled and grateful for everything that anyone has done to help us.  I want you to know that and I want to express that as I have in this blog.
     At the same time, please in no way see anything more than that.  You would be seeing something that sure isn’t there if you do.
     Thanks for loving us.

     I have wired a number of houses over the years, including a house we built in Versailles, along with some Habitat for Humanity houses.  In a perfect world maybe the Lord would have let me be an electrician as part of being a bi-vocational pastor.
     When the electrical inspector came to inspect the house in Versailles, I knew he was more than tough.  Decades ago he had taken some of the fall from the Beverly Hills Supper Club fire and he left no stone unturned.
     When He finished the inspection he looked and me and said, “When a homeowner does his own wiring…”  And I thought, “Here it comes.  I am in a heap of trouble.”
     But he finished by saying, “When a homeowner does his own wiring and he knows what he is doing, it is obvious to me that he takes no shortcuts.   You have taken no shortcuts.”
     One of my pet peeves when it comes to wiring switches is that I like the switches to be somewhat close to the doorframe so that when you enter a room and want to turn on the light, the switches are easy to find.
     Whoever wired our house at Beaver didn’t take that approach.  At all.  When the wiring for the house was roughed in, most of the time the electrician put the box on the next stud over, which means that the switch is sometimes as much as 10-12 inches from the doorframe.  Not much I can do about it but live with it.
     In this battle over two cancers I have come to understand a great deal about switches, not so much the ones that turn on and off lights, but the one that is somewhere in my body.
     Fatigue has been very difficult.  The jury is still out for me to decide if I should fight the fatigue or give in to it.
     The strangest thing continues to happen.  I can’t explain it, but I know its reality.  I can have this extreme fatigue so that I can hardly get off the couch.   I thank God that most of the time it has come on Mondays, rather than Sundays.
     Naps or sleep don’t seem to have an effect on it.  Nothing I do does either.  It’s like there’s a switch that is flipped in my body and almost immediately I feel somewhat normal.   The fatigue is gone and I am able to function.
     It happened again last week.  Monday was a typical fatigue day.  So was Tuesday, which isn’t rare.  Added was Wednesday, which was unusual.  Then something happened Wednesday evening and the switch was flipped.
     I have to figure out what triggers this switch.  If I do, the benefits could be life-changing—in lots of ways!
     But for now, I will keep fighting the fatigue.  Your prayers help in the fight.

     I shared in the sermon on Sunday about a circumstance in our business about being betrayed by a friend whom I had hired six years ago.  Over the six years this “friend” started the same type of business, stealing away some of our customers and lying about what he was doing.
     In the sermon I said that I often speak about how Jesus understands how we feel because He has lived in this life.  But in this circumstance I believe that I actually understood not just that He understood my feelings of betrayal, but also for the first time in my life, I believe that I understood something of what Jesus felt.
     I could never understand what Jesus felt when it came to most things.  I could never understand what it meant for Him who knew no sin to become sin for us.
     I could never understand what it was like to leave heaven and empty Himself to take on human likeness.
     But I have some clue of what He felt when one of His closest friends, someone He chose under the leading of the Holy Spirit, chose to betray Him into the hands of sinners.
     For eight months I have been troubled by this betrayal in my life.  I have lost countless hours of sleep and countless hours of trying to restore customers.
     Last night was one of those nights.  But something happened in the middle of the night.  As I was pondering over the circumstance, something happened.  The situation didn’t change but something did.  Something in my heart.
     It wasn’t that God said any of the following or something similar.
“Quit fretting over this circumstance.”
“Cast all your cares on me for I care for you.”
Not even, “Do not let your heart be troubled.”
     What God said was quit battling this from a defense position, either practically or emotionally.  Fight the fight on offense.
     There is no question that a considerable amount of the spiritual battle we are in is a fight from the defensive.  The armor of God in Ephesians 6 speaks of standing firm and fighting off the enemy’s flaming arrows with the shield of faith.
     And yet, the calling of believers to “Go into all the world” is to take the offensive.  Jesus came to take back territory from the enemy. 
     Though there were times when it appeared that He was on the defensive, His ultimate goal was to win the war over evil.  His final shout from the Cross was a shout of victory, “It has been finished!”  Though the Cross looked like a battle from a defensive position, all along it was God’s taking the offensive position to conquer evil.
     Jesus said to me, “Fight this battle over betrayal by going on offense.  Greater am I than he who is in the world.  And by the way, I do understand what you are feeling.”
     Something happened in the night.  I still sense it this morning.  The fretting is gone and there is a peace in my heart that as Jesus had said, “My peace I give to you.”  It was a gift, a gift of peace from the hand and heart of Jesus.
     And to top it off, part of the gift of peace was the strategy, the playbook if you will, of how to handle things going forward.
     The sweet peace of Jesus is a marvelous thing.

     Last Thursday Teresa and I attended her uncle’s funeral near Dayton, Ohio.  As far as funerals go, it was worth the trip.
     His pastor was spot on.  Maybe the best funeral I have heard in a while.  Her uncle was a marvelous follower of Jesus who had helped plant their church decades ago.  Even when he was close to 90 he was still serving in lots of areas, including mowing the two acre lot.
     We rode in the funeral procession to the cemetery.  I have been in a lot of funeral processions over the years.  Usually they are pretty mundane.
     I do remember a few of them.  I saw a guy get picked up in Fayette County for passing a funeral procession.  That brought a smile.
     I remember being in one in Cynthiana where the sheriff at the time drove 15 miles an hour.  That didn’t make me smile.
     I remember when we were in Winchester I had a double funeral.  The funeral cars were on the opposite side of the church and a well-meaning person thought that they had missed getting in the procession.  They headed toward the cemetery and pretty much everyone on that side of the church followed.  The funeral cars and I came at the end of the procession.  I guess maybe a first shall be last thing.
     But I will never forget the funeral procession for Teresa’s uncle.  Maybe this can be added when I go.
     There was only one deputy sheriff for helping with the funeral procession.  He was a short guy, not that I would notice, and he was riding on a motorcycle.  It has been a while since I have seen a motorcycle lead a funeral procession.
     Here’s the kicker.  The procession was on a four-lane road.  The deputy led us out of the parking lot and stopped traffic at the first of two lights.
     Teresa and I were about in the middle of the procession.  After we were maybe a quarter of a mile past the light, we hear the motorcycle.  The deputy was booking it about 70 mph passing the cars and the hearse to get to the next light before the procession.
     That might be the first time in my life that I have laughed out loud while being in a funeral procession. 
     And to top it off, the deputy repeated the scenario for the second light, again flying by all of us with his motorcycle humming like bikes do.
     I laughed a second time.
     If it could be worked out, when I am being transported from the church to the cemetery, find a short Fayette County deputy who rides a motorcycle.  One final laugh for those left behind might be worth it.

     I made a mistake.  Actually two of them.  Two really big ones.  No, not getting married and answering the call to be a pastor.  Other than giving my heart to Jesus, those were the two best decisions of my life. 
     On one evening I made two ordering mistakes that could have proved to have been costly.  I ordered a sugar free product instead of a regular product and I ordered an item that we sell very few of instead of another one that we sell several every week.
     Both items were ordered on spreadsheets.  As we often do when we make a mistake, it’s easy to rationalize that I ordered them by using the laptop and the display is smaller than a regular monitor.  While that is the case, I still made two mistakes that I shouldn’t have made.
     I hate making mistakes.  Admitting a mistake is a tough one for me.  It has been since I was a kid.  There’s a perfectionistic bent that I have had all my life.  When I played baseball, hitting 300 meant that seven out of 10 times I made an out. 
     It hurts when I look back on maybe a sermon and I see that I quoted something from Matthew and the passage was in John.
     I am never pleased when I measure and cut a board too short.
     Mistakes are a part of life, though I am never happy about them.
     Committing a sin is a far different animal. 
     If making a mistake hurts then committing a sin is grievous to me.  I would like to think that I never intentionally commit a sin.  I never intentionally lie or steal or dishonor my parents or take the Name of the Lord in vain.
     Do I sin?  Obviously.  Only Jesus has the nail prints in His hands.
     The New Testament defines sin as missing the mark.  Kind of like shooting an arrow and missing the bullseye.
     That puts my need for forgiving grace in a whole different perspective.  I sin when I miss the mark of God’s intention for my life and for my day. 
     I often look back on a day and realize that I need the cleansing blood of Jesus to wash away the marks that I missed.  Maybe it was the wrong attitude toward someone.  Maybe it was a sin of not doing something that I knew I should have done.  Maybe it was failing to serve when the opportunity came.
     I thank God that I don’t have to be perfect to walk with Him.  He has taken care of the sin problem.
     And by His grace, the two big mistakes only ended up costing $50.  One company purchased the sugar free product and the manufacturer was willing to accept a return for the other mis ordered product.
     Isn’t God’s grace a marvelous thing?

     I have shared that I would blog only when the Spirit nudges me.   In the last week or so there were very few blogs because there were very few nudges.  I refuse to write simply to write.  I hope these have some value when I do.
       Three days in a row must mean I am in a “nudge stage,” whatever that means.
       I had an unexpected blessing this week.  There are some expected blessings in my life, things that I expect to happen that I have some hope that they will be a blessing when they do.
       Two of the grandkids came to stay with us on Thursday night prior to them going on vacation as a family.  That was an expected blessing.  Teresa is in her element when they come to stay.   There is a very good reason that every grandchild says that they are coming to Gaga’s house.
       I have the expected blessing each week of coming to worship and the joy and lift that seeing so many people bring to my heart.
       Last week I met Mike Courtney in Elizabethtown for lunch.  That was a very anticipated expected blessing.  We had planned it for a couple of weeks.
       Mike is such a blessing in my life.  What I anticipated became reality.  God knew I needed some time with him.  He is a counselor!
       There would be lots of expected blessings in my life.
       But this week I had a very unexpected blessing.  We will call him Abe to protect his identity.  He does have a Biblical name so Abe will work.
       Abe comes out to give me an estimate on a rather extensive outdoor project.  Since moving from Woodford County Teresa and I have had no regrets.  We love the house and we (I more than she!) love living at the lake.
       Well maybe one regret.  I miss the large driveway we had.  Abe came out to see what might be done to expand the driveway while not breaking the bank.
       Abe gets out of his SUV.  He’s a former football player, which might give you some insight about his size.  If you matched us up, Abe would be the anthesis of who I am, in more ways than one.
       His size.  His looks.  Let’s just say that he intentionally has considerably longer hair and more of it than I do, as well as facial hair that I don’t have.
       He looks over the driveway.  I got him as a contact because of some work that he had done for our next-door neighbors so I walked next door to take a look at what he had done.
       For 10 or 15 minutes we talked about the project.
       He stayed for more than an hour.
       For 45 minutes God brought a very unexpected blessing to my life.  What was I expecting from this large man who on the surface didn’t appear to have a great deal in common with me?  I am not sure.  But what I got was a blessing in my life.
       Abe grew up disconnected from the church as did his wife.  Just prior to their marriage God did a major transformation in their lives.  They didn’t come with some of the baggage so they have simply tried to walk with Jesus instead of fitting into some man-created mold that Christians are sometimes expected to submit to.
       Abe has a servant’s heart, which makes him like Jesus.  He has been to Haiti almost a dozen times on mission trips.  He has held those vulnerable children like some of you have when you went to Haiti to serve Tore’s ministry there.   Tears swelled up in Abe’s eyes as he shared about one of those heart-wrenching moments.
       He has a “lifer” as he calls his daughter who will never move out of their house.  She had major issues when she was born and God placed her in a family who would love her and take care of her all her life.
       What we both discovered was that we had far more in common than either of us thought.  Our spirits bore witness with His Spirit that we are children of God together.
       I am not sure about the driveway project.  I am very sure that God placed Abe in my life, if only for an hour.  He was a very unexpected blessing that I needed this week.
       I am finding in this struggle that God is doing that rather consistently.  Sometimes far more obvious than others.

     The Friday treatment only lasts about half an hour.  Sunshine at Baptist Health came through and moved the treatments to 8 a.m. from 11:30-1:00 as they had previously been.  The treatment is over early and I get on with my day.
     Sunshine continues to be a blessing in my life.
     Teresa and I drive a lot between our house, church, and Cynthiana.  About 60,000 miles a year between us.  We have a lot of miles on our cars.  Over half a million between them.
     That means they break down, sometimes more often than others.
     We had a major car repair to Teresa’s Edge.  The second day we drove it after it was fixed, we knew something major was still wrong.  We took it back to the dealership and we were told that it was coincidence that there is a second major issue.
     I found that quite difficult to believe.  And somewhat still do, though the repair shop may change that feeling as they get into a second major repair.  If you are wondering, the two major repairs would be the two that we all hope that neither ever happens to our cars.
     Her car sat at the dealership for 3-4 days before we could both get there to pick it up and take it to the repair shop.  I had rehearsed several times what I was going to say.  Kind of like the prodigal son did when he was heading back home to his father.
     When I got to the dealership and walked in to get the key from the service technician with whom we had dealt, I took the key with somewhat of a smile and I didn’t say a word. 
     That’s hard for all of us.  In his small letter James gives us a lot of practical advice about the tongue.  His first word about it is this: “Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless.”
     Sometimes, maybe most of the time, not saying a word might just be the prescription for dealing with a circumstance that comes our way.
     I have found that as a good husband (not that I am one, mind you) the best thing at times that I can do is not say a word.  I have no doubt that is multiplied for Teresa to me, especially as she has had to deal with the new “not so normal” of the changes going on in my life.
     One of the side effects I have been told from others who have been on a lot of steroids is that the steroids make them grumpy.  I have tried really hard not to come across grumpy.  Teresa has been a trooper.  I have a feeling that we are just in boot camp of working through this.
     I didn’t say a word.  That might have been a minor miracle, but as I look back on it, I am glad that God gave me the grace I needed to be the witness for Him in a not so good situation.
     That might be a good plan for today and maybe tomorrow.  There is a time to speak and a time to remain silent.  Lord, give me the wisdom and grace to know and live out when to not say a word and when and what to say.

     I finally got a nudge.  Maybe two or three of them in a row.  These blogs have been intended to help keep you abreast of my medical situation so let’s start there.
     Week five of chemotherapy has been different than the first four weeks.  It has not mirrored the other three high steroids weeks.  I have not had the “wiring” like those three.  I have had a lot less energy and have been far less productive.
     “Dr. Chuck’s” take on it is that the treatments for both the prostate cancer and the myeloma are in cahoots together.  I look at my neighbor who is dealing with the same hormone treatment and I see the fatigue that I feel.  I am in the third month of my hormones being destroyed and I think that is part of the struggle.  That tends to be somewhat out of my mind because of the chemotherapy treatments.
     Five weeks into chemotherapy surely means that the treatments are having a cumulative effect. 
     Tuesday’s treatment went far better than the previous Tuesday.  I didn’t share about that in the blog, though I did in the sermon on Sunday.  Thanks for the prayers.  They are a sustaining factor in my life.
     I have been preaching about the peace of God and how His peace has been a consistent reality in my life in this.  Sunday’s sermon was on the peace OF God.  Three weeks ago I had preached on having peace WITH God.  You can’t have the peace of God in your heart unless you have peace with Him as your Savior and Lord.
       I should have known what was coming this week.  It happens rather consistently after sermons.  Whatever the theme I might as well be ready because the enemy will tempt me to see if I can live out what I have preached.
     It wasn’t an hour after Sunday’s sermon that three things were thrown in my path that were “peace stealers.”  I said in the sermon to get rid of the things that steal your peace—get your focus off those when possible.
     Often it isn’t possible.  As Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble.”  Troubles come and often those troubles affect our “peace level.”
     This week has been a troubling week.  I haven’t felt as strong as previous weeks.  Today Teresa and I are making a seven-hour roundtrip to attend a funeral for her uncle.  We got some not so good news about her car. 
     Jesus follows up those words about having trouble with these words, “But be of good cheer (or comfort) for I have overcome the world.”
     Here is what I am finding about the peace of God in my heart.  It is a peace that is consistent, though not constant.  The troubles come and smack that peace for a bit, but it’s not long before that sweet peace returns.  Indeed, Jesus has overcome the world.  Sometimes it is in small increments, but nonetheless experienced.
     I should have known.  Both realities.  I should have known that the enemy would and will do what he can to destroy the sweet peace of Jesus.  I should have known that Jesus has overcome him and that Jesus will prevail.  He is bringing me the good cheer, just like He said He would.
     May it be so for you.

     The treatments come in three-week cycles.  Two weeks with lots of steroids; the third week with very few steroids.  Two days of infusions the first two weeks, just one the third week.
     It seems that the plan is to give my body some time to recover during the third week.
     I received some great advice about charting how I feel each day during the treatments.  The first two weeks were close to being carbon copies.   This week has been different than the first two.
     I haven’t written a new blog for a couple of reasons.  The Spirit hadn’t moved me.  I want some value in these or I simply won’t do them.  There’s not a lot of value in this one other than to let you know how I am doing.
     The second reason is that Monday and Tuesday I was zonked. I slept 10 hours Monday and Tuesday nights, which is a rarity for me ever. 
     Wednesday and Thursday were a 180-degree shift.  Some folks asked me how I was doing the last couple of days.  My answer was “normal.”  One response back was “normal is good.”
     Yes, it is.  I am writing this quite early in the day and it looks like today might just be another normal day, whatever that is.
     Most of the time we see normal as humdrum.  For me, normal is a blessing.  This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.
     Glad for some normalcy, at least until the next cycle begins.