Two blogs in a couple of weeks might be a record for this year.
 
​     On my health side, I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday.  The blood work showed no change in the multiple myeloma cells.  That is really good news.  I am scheduled to return to Mayo Clinic in October for tests and scans.
 
​     The last two weeks have been very strange for Teresa and me.  Often we speak of things happening in threes, but for us it has happened in “a four.”
 
​     It was Teresa who initially observed the following:
 
​     Two weeks ago today, a dear friend from the church where we served in Ashland went home to be with Jesus.
 
​     Last week a lady from the now Mt. Zion Community Church in Clark County left this world.  She served in the nursery while our kids were young and made an impact on our family.   I was more than blessed when we went to her visitation and saw that the church was now a community church.  We were just 30 years ahead of some folks.
 
​     This week another lady who had been in the church we pastored in Lexington before Daybreak suddenly died of an aneurism.  I will officiate her funeral this coming Tuesday.
 
​     And this morning, a couple of hours before the daybreak, our beloved Larry Clevinger walked the threshold from this life into eternity.
 
​     I am not sure what the odds are of this happening, but we have pastored four churches and one person from each church has died in the last two weeks.  They have died in the same order as the churches we have served.
 
​     I am also not sure what to make of this.  It had nothing to do with us.  God knew when to call each of them home.  But it is more than strange. 
 
​     What I do make of this are two things among several.   The obvious one is we never know.  We never know when it might be the last time to say something that we need to say.  We never know when God might call us out of this world, so we need to be sure we are ready.
 
​     In a sweet time when we were alone on Friday, I asked Larry if he was ready.  I knew that he was ready, but one of my callings is to give folks a chance when I am there near the end of life to express that.  Larry shook his head and said, “I am ready.” I have no doubt that he knew that I knew that he was ready.
 
​     The second is the incredible value of brotherhood/sisterhood and friendship. What matters in this world is what you have done with Jesus.  Next in line is what have you done with others.
 
​     The last thing that I said to Larry when we were alone was, “I love you, brother.”  He responded with, “I love you.”  What a marvelous privilege by the grace of God that the last words that you say to a person the last time that you are alone with them is “I love you.”
 
​     What will make heaven, heaven?  Of course, Jesus will.  Falling down in worship to the Lamb that was slain will be the apex.  Larry did that about 4:00 am this morning.
 
​     I have bias as a pastor.  From the beginning God’s plan was for His people to grow to love Him through the covenant family.  That increased even more when the Church was born on Pentecost.  We need each other.  We need the relationships that make life meaningful and purposeful that come through the family of God.
 
​     In our world that is becoming increasingly isolated, the Church stands as God’s answer to the loneliness of this world.  In a very real sense I am the man I am today because of Jeanette, Maxine, Donna, and Larry, with the greatest emphasis on Larry.   35 years is a long time to walk with brother……
 
​     If you are not involved in a local church, find one.  It won’t be perfect; you wouldn’t be allowed to join if it was!  Find others with whom you can grow in the Lord.  Find a place where you can serve Jesus as Larry so ably did.
 
​     ​If you are blessed with relationships in your church, express to others what they mean to you.  We never know what any day might bring.  
 

(Chuck’s note: I wrote this on Monday but I wanted to let it sit for a couple of days to make sure it said what I intended.  The date really has no bearing.)
      I got in late and then a storm hit, so by the time I finished swimming it was after 11:00 p.m.  I got in the shower and when I finished I had all intentions of either catching up on some bookwork or heading on to bed.
      However, something happened in the shower.   There was this undeniable urge to write.  If you have read many of these blogs over the last 3.5 years, then you know a couple of things.  
      First, I write when I sense the Spirit moving in my heart.  I sensed His moving while I was in the shower.
      Second, I write when I need to write more than you need to read what I have written.
      I have been a pastor for 45 years.  I have walked with lots of families when their loved ones were about to get the gain.  You’ve heard from me a lot that “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.
      The two areas that I received the least amount of training in Seminary were the two areas that I feared the most as a pastor: weddings and funerals.  Both are in a sense a one-time shot.  If you mess up, you don’t have another opportunity.
I was a youth pastor for four years in Ashland at a large church that had lots of, shall we say, wiser folks.  
      The senior pastor did a six-week exchange with a pastor from Europe.  While he was gone, there was one stretch when I had 10 funerals in 12 days.  
      Baptism by fire.  The problem was that it was pretty much the same crowd who attended most of the 10.  Kinda of hard to say the same thing 10 straight times.  But God used that experience to hone my understanding and give me assurance that He would help me.
      I have had to deal with death like every pastor.  It goes with the calling, but it is rarely an easy calling.
      As I was in the shower I thought about some of the difficult ones.
      I buried twin girls who had a congenital defect.  There was hope that one of them would live, but that wasn’t the case.  There is still etched in my mind the two small white caskets that looked more like shoeboxes.
      I had a double funeral for a man’s son and sister who were murdered by an extended family member.
      Some of you knew David, a four-year-old who died of a brain tumor.  Yes, Megan, he was in your heart then and he is still in the hearts of all who knew him.
      I buried a young girl who was killed in a car accident.
      Trying to help Mike and Brittney after the sudden death of Lisa was more than a challenge.
      I walked through the ravages of breast cancer with Wesley, aka Sparkie, a thirty-something young girl.
      Two of the more difficult were William and Blake who never left the NICU.  Those short lives affected me then and still impact my life.
      Somehow trying to help Joyce and then the next year Richard has taken more than I could do.  It has taken the whole village.
      There were lots of others; these are just the ones that came to my mind.  Every one of them has been important.
      Many of you know that in the last 10 days Larry Clevinger has been diagnosed with inoperable and untreatable liver cancer.  Larry is more than a church member.  He is more than a brother in Christ.  He is more than a friend.  He is more than maybe the best Barnabas that I have had outside of my family.
      I have buried some of “my sheep” over the years.  I saw David Lowe walk out of the choir loft one Sunday morning and give his heart to Jesus.  Some years later I held his hand as he passed into the arms of Jesus.
      Larry is one of my sheep.  So is Mike Carter.  So are some others of you.  There is a closeness with Larry and Mike that simply comes with the territory. It doesn’t mean that I love them more than others.  I love them differently, like loving Caryn and Megan differently.  
      Larry gave his heart to Jesus one afternoon after we had lunch together at the old Nehemiah’s restaurant that was on Nicholasville Road.  Right there in the parking lot.   The Holy Spirit spoke, Larry responded, and Jesus changed his life. He was a new man.  
      I have watched that new man grow into one of the most committed disciples of Jesus whom I have known.  If I ever question the validity of my calling, I look at Larry and Mike.  Some others, too.
      Unless Jesus calls me home, walking with Larry through whatever time God deems left for him will not be easy for me.  I said to him that love makes you vulnerable.  It never hurts if you don’t love.
      Larry has been there for me.  In his words that I have often heard, “I am standing in the back of the room.”  He has stood “in the back of the room” praying for me far more times than I even know.
      Sometimes he has literally stood in the back of the room.  I have had some funerals that Larry knew would be difficult for me and even though he didn’t have a decent reason to be there, I have looked up and saw him standing in the back.
      Larry stood by me through a head-on car accident, showing up at the scene.
      Larry has made the trip to Mayo more than once.
      He has walked with me through three cancers.
      Repayment isn’t in my thought process.  Being there for him as he has been there for me is my heart’s desire and my head’s intention.
      I have prayed a lot for Larry.  Those prayers were initially for wisdom for the medical staff to diagnose his condition.  There have been prayers for healing.   God will answer those prayers, but it looks like it will be the healing that will someday come to all of us in the resurrection.
      My prayers have moved to prayers asking for God’s grace to be sufficient.  I have prayed that his suffering would be minimal and the discomfort would be tolerable.  I have prayed that he will keep his sharp mind until Jesus calls him home.  I have prayed for the sweet peace of Jesus to flood his heart.
      ​And maybe as much as anything else, I pray that our Lord Jesus will come to Larry with the power of the Holy Spirit to enable Larry to finish well.  
      You know what, that may be a prayer that I may not need to pray.  Over these 45 years as a pastor I have seen it happen over and over and over.  People usually die like they have lived.  
      ​Larry’s life has been lived well.  I have no doubt that this final chapter will be lived well, too.

     It has been a while since I have written a blog.  Life has been busier than normal.  Vacations are great but catching up from them sometimes isn’t easy.
 
     I began the day with the sun easing up over the horizon.  There were just a few clouds and the Lord painted a marvelous picture of His creation.  I don’t guess that you would believe that I like to experience the daybreak of a new day, would you? 
 
     I enjoy writing.  It is one of the things that calms my heart.  Putting things down in black and white also helps me to see things that I may miss when those things are just thoughts in my head.
 
     Many of you know that when we redid our driveway the small stone wall along about 90 feet of the driveway was pushed up on the grass.  It has been that way for almost two years.
 
     I have had several estimates to have the wall redone.  They have ranged from $3000 to $28,000.  I am not joking about the $28,000. 
 
     I had the $3000 guy scheduled last year, but he couldn’t get to it until last fall.  Between the time that he agreed to come and the fall he had a heart attack.  Building a stone wall doesn’t seem like the best way to recover from a heart attack!
 
     I made a feeble attempt when this all began to build the wall myself.  That’s when I got the estimates.
 
     I decided late Friday afternoon that I would put a focused effort to see if I could build the wall myself.
 
     Because of the difficulty I have had with plumbing, over the years I have said, “If I don’t make it to heaven, I will be a plumber in hell.”
 
     I was wrong.  If I don’t make it to heaven, I will be a stone mason in hell for eternity. 
 
     It may take me a long time and lots of frustration when it comes to plumbing, but eventually I usually get it fixed.  If not, I know a plumber.
 
     I am not sure that I will ever get the stone wall looking acceptable to me or to anyone else for that matter.
 
     I thought about the five worst jobs that I would have in hell, in this order. 

1. Stone mason
2. Plumber
3. Mechanic (I have said that the closest thing I have ever been to a mechanic was to know Teresa’s dad’s phone number.  Pappy was a great mechanic.)
4. Cook.  If something happens to Teresa I will need to move closer to Texas Roadhouse. 
5. Daycare worker.  Though there will be no daycares in hell.

 
     I would appropriately and quickly be fired as a worker in any of those five jobs.
 
     What are the most important three-word phrases in the English language?  “God is love” or “Jesus loves me” would be at the top of the list.  “I love you” would be near the top.  Those are easy to say, well at least most of the time.
 
     Not too far behind would be one of the most difficult things for us to say.  “I was wrong.”  The willingness to admit to yourself and to say to someone else “I was wrong” might save a lot of relationships.
 
     I preached a sermon sometime ago on the one we call the prodigal son.  The young man took his inheritance and squandered it in the far country.  When the money was gone he ended up slopping the hogs, the lowest you could get as a Jew.
      
     Jesus says in the story that the young man “came to himself.”  He realized his sin.  The concise three-point sermon I preached was this:
 
     Until we are willing to say “I was wrong” we will never be right with ourselves.
 
     Until we are willing to say “I was wrong” we will never be right with others.   He had to go to his dad and admit that he was wrong.
 
     Most importantly, until we are willing to say “I was wrong” we will never be right with God.
 
     It is one of the sermons that has stuck in my mind over the years.  I have had to apply it personally more times than I would like to admit.  The admission of “I was wrong” is never easy.  It cuts to the core of our fallen nature.
 
     But it is one of God’s ways of redemption. 
 
     Like the prodigal son, it is often to those closest to us whom we have the most difficulty saying, “I was wrong.” 
 
     Lord, help me be willing to humble myself, before You and with others and be willing to say, “I was wrong.”  It is part of Your redemptive plan through which You often bring miracles.
 
     It’s a beautiful day.  I may give that wall one more chance.

     I know that it has been several weeks since I have written a blog.  I have said all along that I would write only when the Spirit moved me and I felt that there was some value in writing.
 
     The Spirit moved me.  It has nothing to do with the weather, though that might be a good theme.  Somehow, we haven’t gotten one of the 10th worst snowfalls in the last 100 years as was predicted.
 
     I had my three-month myeloma check-up on Friday.  The blood work test results came back as hoped.  All the “counters” for my myeloma came back in the good range.  I am released for another three months.  That was very good news.
 
     As I walked out of the doctor's office and headed to the valet parking, I noticed a young couple waiting for the attendant to bring their transportation.
 
     I don’t know if the young man was her husband, her brother, or a friend.  By the way that he held her, I took him to be her husband.
 
     She couldn’t have been more than 30.  It was cold on Friday and she was wearing an overcoat and a hat.  If she had hair, it was stuffed under the hat.  I couldn’t tell and surely didn’t want to get close enough to tell.
 
     She was so weak that the young man had his arm around her to hold her up and to help her get to and into their pickup truck.
 
     My heart went out to her and I prayed for her then and have since. I ask you to pray for her, too.
 
     She is another in a long line of patients I have encountered over the last three years in the Cancer Center.  Like so many others, this young woman was in far worse shape than I am.  And so I wonder.
 
     Last Sunday’s sermon was on the 10 lepers who were healed by Jesus.  Only one of them returned to thank Jesus and he was a Samaritan.
 
     When the healed Samaritan came back to Jesus, the text says that he did three things: He praised God, fell at Jesus’ feet, and thanked Him.
 
     Last Sunday I considered asking everyone who was physically able to do so to do those three things as a closing invitation.  After some prayerful thought, embarrassment has never been my intention, so I asked people at some point last Sunday or during the week, to find some place and some time that they could do those three things.
 
     I did as I had asked others to do.  After getting the good news, I knelt on the floor in the basement with my face to the ground like the Samaritan had done.  I gave praise to God and I thanked Him.  It was the least that I could do.
 
     There is something that often happens when we respond to God by a special physical posture that doesn’t happen when we are sitting or standing. 
 
     When you fall face down, not just kneeling, but face down before Jesus, it moves your heart and soul.  It is an act of yielding to His authority in your life.
 
     The same thing is true when you lift your hands in praise to God.  Something happens in your heart when you unashamedly offer praise to Him.  Your heart is moved and your faith is strengthened.
 
     Try it.  You may be surprised.

      I realize that it has been many weeks since I have written a blog.  I said at the beginning of these posts that I wouldn’t write one unless I thought I had something of value to say.  I hadn’t felt that until the last couple of hours. 
 
      Most of you know that I am back at Mayo Clinic for a couple of days of testing and doctors’ appointments. 
 
      I entered the Clinic both days with the same answer I usually give when the security guard looked at my laptop case and asked, “Do you have any knives, guns, or weapons?”
 
      “Just these hands of steel.”  It brings a laugh every time.  It might not if I was 6’6” and 250 pounds. 
 
      So far things have gone as well as we could hope.  My thyroid is functioning rather normally. Dr. Brito said to me, “I will see you in 12 months.”  That is very welcome news.
 
      I had four hours between Dr. Brito and Dr. Leung so I stopped by Mayo 12th floor to see if by chance Dr. Tran 1.) might still be practicing and 2.) might be in the clinic today instead of surgery.  I didn’t have an appointment, but I told the lady at the check-in desk who I was and why I wanted to see Dr. Tran.
 
      Dr. Tran was the plastic surgeon who put my knee/leg back together after the surgeon, Dr. Shives, cut the “girls’ softball size” hole out of my leg to remove the sarcoma 25 years ago this year.  I hadn’t seen Dr. Tran in several years. 
 
       He was as thrilled to see me as I was to see him.  He greeted me, “Reverend Cooper,” which all the Mayo staff did 25 years ago.  Now it’s Chuck—the name my chart says that I prefer.
 
       Dr. Tran did exactly what I thought he might do.  Of course, he wanted to look at my leg.  He was more than pleased with how his work has held up for 25 years.  So am I.
 
      And he asked if some pictures could be taken of my leg.  I wasn’t surprised.
 
      Well, it was considerably different than 20 or 25 years ago.  Then they pulled out a nice camera and shot a few pictures.  Today was a first for me: I was in a photo op in a studio.  The photographer must have taken 15 or 20 pictures.

      Mayo is a bit ahead of their time in lots of ways, especially medically.  But here’s another one. 
 
      I don’t get out much past Gatti’s and Texas Roadhouse.  Maybe a stop at Chick Fil A now and then.
 
      When I walked in the cafeteria I saw some maybe three-foot-tall robots.  I finally figured out that they were delivering food to people.  You make your order and then you’re given a “token.”  When your food is ready, the robot brings it to your table.  There’s more than one way to reduce staff.
 
      The funniest thing to me was to see three of these robots return to the area where the food is prepared.  These three robots were in a line next to each other waiting patiently without saying a word until their next assignment.   They’d make a good husband.
 
      I have one more appointment at 4:15 EST.  It is the big one.  We will see what is transpiring with the multiple myeloma.  I’ve tried to not get overly hopeful.
 
      I do feel better than I have in quite some time.  I am in the best shape that I have been in since all this started almost three years ago.  I have been swimming every day possible, including both mornings here. 
 
      My skin smells like chlorine after two days in the pool here.  Not so at home.
 
      Exercise and diet do make a difference.  Maybe someday I might add rest to the triad.
 
      Thanks for your continued support, especially prayer support.  I know that it isn’t as fervent as it was two years ago when it looked like a stem cell transplant was in the making.
 
      I firmly believe that I am doing as well as I am because of great medical care—here and at home—and the power of God released through your prayers.
 
      As I have shared in these blogs, I am a very blessed man by God’s grace.  I am very underserving, but very much grateful.   There is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t express that gratitude.
 
      I will hit the road immediately after seeing Dr. Leung.  Teresa will have the information on how that appointment went.
 
      Thanks for loving me.

     I am sitting in the Cancer Center this morning awaiting chemotherapy.  I am recovering from the tick issue, though not back 100%, but well enough to resume chemo.  After today’s treatment I only have three more before going back to Mayo Clinic in the fall.
 
     Some of these blogs have been more than heavy, as they should have been.  This one not so much.
 
     Parts of the US have been inundated with cicadas this summer, including Central Kentucky and Beaver Trail in Lawrenceburg.  I will admit that not quite as bad as on Harrodsburg Road where Dave and Nancy Alger live.  Nancy sent Teresa pictures of trunks of trees covered with cicadas. 
 
     As many as 1.5 million cicadas can appear in any given acre.   I haven’t seen that many!
 
     My recollection is that it hasn’t been 17 years since the last time we dealt with them.  Maybe some of them can’t read a calendar.  Some of them may be on a 13-year cycle.
 
     I have learned some things about these pesky insects.
 
● They can’t swim.  I fished lots of dead ones out of our pool. 
 
● They can fly faster than my zero-turn mower. 
 
● Their favorite landing spot is an uncovered neck.
 
● They can get in your house without you knowing it.
 
● Their carcasses stink.
 
Hopefully they will die off by the end of June.
 
     I couldn’t help but think of what it must have been like for the Egyptians when God sent the Plague of Locusts on Egypt.  They covered the ground until it was black.  They must have filled the houses.  I am sure that they could fly faster than an Egyptian lawnmower.
 
     Had I been Pharaoh I would have thrown in the towel and let the Hebrew children grow after the locusts invaded the land.  A hard heart can make you do stupid things.   It can also lead to even greater judgment as the Egyptians found out.
 
     I will rejoice when the cicadas are gone.  I even more rejoice that life’s challenges haven’t hardened my heart.
 
     God looks up my heart and yours.  I hope what He sees is pleasing to Him.
 

       I am sorry that I haven’t written a blog in a while, but honestly I haven’t felt up to it.
 
       About six weeks ago I began to sense that something was going on beyond the norm.  I began to feel lethargic, most of my body ached, and my blood pressure was doing some crazy things on the low end which is rare for me.
 
        One afternoon I came home and laid on the couch for a short nap.  Six hours later I woke up and then went to bed and slept until morning.
 
       On a Saturday afternoon I had Teresa take me to the ER because I hadn’t gotten out of bed for a couple of days and my blood pressure was 88/48.
 
       After a few hours in the ER I came home and was told to take a Tylenol before I went to bed.  When the Tylenol “hit” my body was literally on fire.  I took my blood pressure and it was 90/36.
 
       I had been seeing my hematologist during this.  My blood counts were not where they should be and he discontinued chemotherapy, which is still the case.  He knew that I had had a tick bite and he tested me for Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and Lyme Disease.  Both came back negative.  He put me on an antibiotic before we heard the results, just in case.
 
       On Thursday Dr. Hicks called me with a very much upbeat tone in his voice.  It appears that I have Ehrlichiosis which is bacteria from a tick bite.  Blood work points in that direction.
 
       I have never felt this way through chemotherapy.  The closest thing would be the harvesting of the stem cells, but that lasted only three days.
 
       Never once during two and a half years of dealing with three cancers have I thought that I might be leaving this world.  Over the past six weeks there have been a couple nights that I wasn’t sure I was staying in this world.
 
       Yes, “for to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”  I just prefer the gain to wait for a bit.
 
       I am far from back to normal.  This has been a very long week with some responsibilities that I had at work.  Thursday night I came home and was exhausted.
 
       I went to bed and slept for about 10 hours, but I didn’t feel all that refreshed when I got up.   I said I felt like my cell phone.   If I drain the power out of my cell phone completely, it takes it a long time to start to recharge and then longer to fully recharge.
 
       I do believe that I have turned the corner.  I fully intend to preach tomorrow if folks still remember who I am. 
 
       I have been reminded once again of just how fragile life is and how vulnerable we can be.  We take way too much for granted.
 
       I have also been reminded that even when we don’t feel His Presence, Jesus is always there.   If I was honest, which I have always tried to be in these blogs, I would tell you that the sweetness of His Presence has been almost non-existent through this. 
 
       I knew He was there because of His Promises.  Sometimes we stand on the promises and we walk by faith.  Illness is often one of those times.
 
       As I contemplated His Presence this morning, I clicked on a worship song that I’d love us to do.  It’s called, “If Not for Grace.”
 
Where would I be, You only know.
I’m glad You see through eyes of love.
A hopeless case, an empty place,
If not for grace.
 
Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I’m a hopeless case, an empty place,
If not for grace.
 
       And as I sang, the floodgates of heaven opened and the sweet peace of Jesus filled my heart in a way that I haven’t felt in a while.  And maybe a tear or two in my eyes.
 
       I might have to muster up enough energy today to walk down to the dock and “have a little talk with Jesus.”
 
       Where would I be, if not for grace? 
 
       I think that I am on the way back.  For that I give Him praise.
 
       I appreciate your prayers.
 

     After a difficult night on Friday and a none better day on Saturday, I decided it was wise to head to the ER.  On the way there I called my sister, Jan, who is a nurse, and her husband, Grady, who is a doctor.  I thought maybe getting some confirmation that we were making a good decision was prudent.
 
     On Friday night and Saturday morning my blood pressure had tanked.  It was 88/48 on Friday night and 90/50 on Saturday morning.  When I shared those numbers with Grady, his response was, “That’s not good.”  Not really what you want to hear from a doctor, including your brother-in-law.
 
     I also vacillated both days from either being way too hot or way too cold.
 
     When we arrived at the ER they were exceptionally busy.  Because it was a heart issue, they took me back to take my blood pressure.  Like most every parent has experienced, a child can be healed between your home and the doctor’s office.   My blood pressure was a perfect 115/74.  From that moment I think they were going to jump through the hoops they should, but I think they didn’t think I had a blood pressure issue.

     About four hours later they sent me home with these instructions: get plenty of rest, drink a lot of fluids, and take Tylenol for the pain.
 
     Being that I am a man who follows directions, especially from Teresa, I went home and did just that.
 
     About 10 p.m. I took a Tylenol.  As soon as it started to take effect, I began sweating profusely.  I knew something wasn’t right.  My heart felt as weird as it did when I had A-fib some years ago.
 
     I took my blood pressure.  It was 90/36.  I laid really still for most of the night.
 
     By morning the sweats turned into “freezes” and I was pretty sure that the crisis had passed.  My blood pressure was back to its normal range, about 115/74.
 
     All I can figure is that I have developed an aversion to Tylenol.   I rarely take pain killers but the last couple of weeks I have taken a lot of Tylenol because of the pain in my legs from neuropathy caused by the chemotherapy. 
 
     Here are some takeaways.
 
     You know your body better than anyone else.  If you think that something isn’t quite right, get some help, even if they don’t believe you!
 
     The weekend crew at the ER may not be quite as compassionate as the staff at the cancer center.  They were terribly busy and I tried to take that in consideration.
 
     I have a lot more empathy now for folks dealing with lingering or long-term pain.  Most of the pain that I have had has been after surgery and the pain usually gets better the longer things go. 
 
     The past two plus years the neuropathy from Chemo has been more than manageable.  At least until the last three weeks.  One evening my feet got really cold.  It may have been the day I put in the Pontoon Boat at Beaver.  I really don’t remember.  But since then, the pain has been constant. 
 
     People who deal with lasting pain have a new place in my heart.  I can pray for them with much more insight.
 
     Lord, help me be patient when life doesn’t go smoothly.  Help me to listen to Your voice and pray for people who need Your help.

      I jumped in the car after meeting with Dr. Leung and drove six hours before I stopped for the night about 1:15 a.m. our time.  Dr. Leung was about an hour later than the appointment time or I likely would have headed on home.
 
      The wait was worth it to see Dr. Leung, as was the two-and-a-half-day trip to go to Rochester and back.  I wanted to see the expressions on his face, as well as to look into his eyes.  I couldn’t have gotten either of those on a video or Zoom call.
 
      The news was as expected.  I knew the results of the bone marrow biopsy before he did.  He confirmed that I now have had three straight MRD-negatives.
 
      The protocol is to have two years of treatment and two MRD-negatives a year a part, which I have had, before making a decision on continuing chemotherapy or not.  Dr. Leung’s desire is for me to have six more months of chemo and then return to Mayo Clinic for more testing.  If the tests are the same as the ones last month, then his advice will be to discontinue chemotherapy.
 
      With as well as I have done, if the tests come back negative in September, Dr. Leung believes that it could be 4-5 years before the myeloma would return.  His belief is that multiple myeloma will not reduce my longevity and that I will die of something else.
 
      By God’s grace, that is as good of news as we could have hoped.  It looks like you might have to put up with me a tad longer.
 
      It’s headed for 2:00 a.m., but there are two stories I have to share.
 
      I walked out of Mayo 10E at about 5:00 p.m.  I saw no one in the waiting room nor any of the staff behind the “check-in” desk.  I headed to the elevator and just as the doors were closing a woman slipped onto the elevator.
 
      I guessed her to be in her mid-40s.  She was wearing “the scarf” and it was obvious that she was being treated for cancer by chemotherapy.
 
      I am on the elevator with another cancer patient and my heart went out to her.  I asked, “How did your appointment go?”
 
      She paused for a moment, looked down at the floor, and said, “About as good as I could have expected.”
 
      She then looks up and asks me, “How about yours?” 
 
      All I could say was, “About the same.”
 
      We got off the elevator on the subway level and I headed toward the elevator for the parking garage.  I lost sight of her until I got to the line waiting to get on the parking garage elevators.  It was then that I realized that she was directly in front of me in line.
 
      She turned and realized that I was behind her.  As she turned back around I said to her, “I am going to be praying for you.”  “Thank you” was her response.
 
      My car was on the fourth floor of the parking garage.  I had walked the four flights down when I got to the Clinic.   The line was very long waiting for the elevator.  There are three elevators going to the eight levels of the garage.  They were on the sixth, seventh, and third floors, the latter one going up.
 
      I was in a hurry to get on the road so I decided to book up the stairs.  It’s been a while since I have walked up four flights of stairs.
 
      I got to the landing on the fourth floor.  As I passed by the elevators the middle door opened and out she walked. 
 
      She smiled and said, “You took the stairs?”  Yes was about all that I could say.
 
      We headed to the fourth-floor level of the garage and she went the same direction as I was going.  She got in her car.  It was parked next to mine.  What are the chances?
 
      At 5:00 in the afternoon Mayo Clinic shuts down and lots of folks headed to their cars.  Four levels above us were all wanting to get on their way and no one seemed to be willing to let either of us out.
 
      After what seemed like 10 minutes, though it was probably maybe five or so, I couldn’t stand it any longer.   This woman needed to get home.   I got out of my car and pecked on her driver’s side window.
 
      “Would you like me to help you get out?” I asked.  She had been talking to her husband, making sure that he had picked up their son.  She said, “Sure, that would be nice.”
 
      I walked out into the line of traffic and stopped it with a smile and a thank you wave.
 
      As she was leaving she asks me, “Would you like to get out, too?”
 
      That honestly wasn’t my intention.
 
      There are God moments when a 10 minute encounter with someone can help make someone’s day somewhat brighter. 
 
      And I will keep my word to pray for her.
 
      I finally got on the road and headed south.  Well, actually east and then south.
 
      I really didn’t plan to stop after just two hours but nature called and I stopped at a Burger King that was connected to a C-Store.
 
      I got fuel in the car and then went to the counter to order a Double Whopper.  I eat burgers with no cheese, mayo, or bread.  There’s far less sodium than on a deli sandwich.
 
      The lady who took my order had a sweet spirit about her.  I’d guess she was 50ish.  She smiled as she took my order and was very gracious.  I didn’t ask, but I’d not be surprised if she was a believer.
 
      I took a $20 bill out of my billfold and handed it to her for the $9.00 or so meal.
 
      There must be something about Burger King ladies that moves my heart.  I’d only given away part of the money I had set aside for the Lord to use to bless servers because of the one-toothed Burger King lady.
 
      The Spirit nudges me, “Give her the $10.00 change.
 
      I asked for a cup for some ice and when she handed it to me I slipped the $10 bill across the counter and said, “This is for you.”  The look on her face was priceless.  She gasped for a moment and said, “Thank you.”
 
      I got the impression that clerks at Burger King don’t get too many tips, especially not $10 ones.
 
      While I was getting a cup of ice she passed by me as she took someone else’s order to their table.  The smile was still on her face.
 
      I got in the car and literally started laughing somewhat uncontrollably as I started the car.
 
      The Apostle Paul wrote that God loves a cheerful giver.  The word in the original is “hilaros.”  God loves a hilarious giver.  I experienced the meaning of what Paul wrote. 
 
      I encourage you to try being a hilarious giver sometime, especially when someone isn’t expecting it.
 
      You might just make their day.  And yours.
 
      I  am off to bed.