I am on a roll, depending on how you look at it.  Four blogs in a week after none for four months.
     If it’s a good roll, it could be like Reed Sheppard who hit 7 of 10 three pointers against Tennessee last spring.  I never could understand why that kid didn’t start for the Cats.
     Or it could be a bad roll, like the huge log from the oak tree that we had taken down a couple of years ago.  I was cutting it up into more manageable sections, thinking that I had chocked it enough to keep it from rolling down the hill.  I hadn’t and the 42” diameter log started rolling down the hill.  All I could do was watch and hope that it didn’t make it to our neighbor’s dock.  It didn’t, but it made the lake.  It may be there until my grandkids are my age.
     I guess that you can decide if it’s a “Reed” roll or a “log” roll.  How far you choose to read answers that.  This was one that I couldn’t let slide.
     My faith was put into the crucible this morning.  It had nothing to do with doubt; it had everything to do with a choice I had to make.   That’s usually the crucible for us.  What will I choose to do in a given situation?
     We purchase from a vendor and this vendor purchases from us.  Like another vendor that I shared about last spring, this vendor and everyone who works for them are from India.  They are far more committed to their Hindu faith than lots of Christians that I know.  Many of them have the “dot” on their forehead—most all the time I see them.
     There’s a man who works there who is a member of the family who owns business.  It took me awhile to realize that he was one of the “chiefs” because he has a tendency to stay in the background.  There’s a good reason why.
     This man has some type of skin disorder.  I honestly don’t know if it was a genetic cause or whether it was something that he contracted.   A few weeks back Dr. Taylor shared about a young boy in Liberia with a skin disorder.  She likened his skin to being rough like cauliflower.  Using that illustration, he looks like cauliflower on steroids.
     I have encountered him maybe 7-8 times and I have felt sorry for him.  It would be a terrible condition to endure.  You couldn’t go anywhere without feeling like people were looking at you.
     When I entered their warehouse this morning I greeted the guy who is usually in charge and I shook his hand.  The man with the skin condition was walking toward the counter.  I have no doubt that he saw me shake the hand of the other man.
     As he neared me I had a decision to make.  What would you have done?  I have assumed that the condition isn’t communicable, but I have no way of knowing that.
     When he got within a few feet I greeted him and then I stuck out my hand to shake his hand.  It was a poignant moment.  It seemed like it was longer than it was, but there was a pause on his part.  It was like he looked at me and was silently asking, “Are you sure you want to shake my hand?”
     Finally he reached out his hand and we shook hands.  But I sensed that there was something deeper.  I have no knowledge of how long it had been since someone out of his normal circle had treated him with grace and love.
     The people in this business know who I am.  I was even wearing a blue “Daybreak” t-shirt this morning.  How I treated this man spoke volumes.
     Don’t get the wrong idea here.   I don’t write this for anyone to think that I am a such a good Christian.  I’d be a fool to write these blogs if that was the case.
     I was put into a situation where I had a choice to do as I believe Jesus would have done in the same situation.  We face circumstances lots of days that call us to put our faith into action.
     The Gospels tell about a leper who came to Jesus.  Mark’s account puts it this way:
 
1:40 Now a leper came to Him, imploring Him, kneeling down to Him and saying to Him, “If You are willing, You can make me clean.”
41 Then Jesus, moved with compassion, stretched out His hand and touched him, and said to him, “I am willing; be cleansed.”
 
     Jesus touched the leper as a part of this miracle. 
 
     As I have pondered this circumstance most of the day, I initially thought, “I feel like I was like Jesus today.”   Upon much reflection I came to think more on the lines of “I did what Jesus would have done.”
     One difference was in how I initially felt about it, that Jesus would not have felt.  There was some concern as you might expect.  But something deeper.
 
     Mark says that Jesus was moved with compassion.  Then He touched the man, and lastly healed him.
 
     The word for compassion is a strong word.  The NIV says that Jesus “had pity” on him.   I don’t think that is strong enough.  It literally means “to be moved as to one's bowels.”  It is something that you feel in your gut.
 
     It’s a word that is used almost exclusively about Jesus in the New Testament.
 
     What happened in my heart as I thought about this man was that the pity that I have had for him since I met him some months ago, began to be something deeper.  I am not sure that I have become like Jesus enough to say that I have compassion for someone.  I can at least say that it is something that I feel for this man in my gut or in my heart.
 
     “What would Jesus do?” is one thing.  Asking, “What Jesus would feel?” is another.  Somehow by the transforming power and grace of Jesus, maybe there is hope for me.
 
Lord, I want to do what You would do in circumstances that You allow and may even initiate.  Lord, take me deeper.  Help me to grow enough into Your character that I may even begin to feel what You would feel for someone else. 
 

     I know this is a third blog after not writing for quite some time.  Obviously, you don’t have to read them.  I appreciate it when you do.
     I try to live about 28 days a month trying not to think too much about being a cancer patient.  Today brings home the reality that I am still fighting cancer because today was a chemotherapy day, my last one until I go back to Mayo Clinic the end of this month.  For that I am grateful.
     I had the nurse today that I had the very first day that I walked into the infusion center with very much the “deer in the headlights” look.  I will forever be grateful for the loving way she handled me then.  Today was no different.
     I’ve gotten to know several of the nurses.  I had joked with Nurse A (we will call her) several times about her blacklisting me because in 16 months I hadn’t had her again, until today.
     I have become a difficult stick.  Not as tough as Scott Matin, but much harder after having an IV so many times.   Nurse A took more time than most nurses to try to find the right vein.  She did—on the first stick.
     She is loving, skilled, knowledgeable, appropriately communicative, and patient.  What more could a patient expect?
     As most times in the cancer center, I can’t help but notice the other patients.   Two women today were in much worse shape than I am.  There was a young woman in her late 30s or early 40s in the waiting room.  I was hoping that maybe she was there with a parent.  She wasn’t.   They called her name.  And I prayed for her.
     The chemo days tend to wear me out.  I have tried to deduce why.  It takes a while for the chemo to get in my blood stream, so I know it isn’t the only culprit.   Maybe it is the stress of having the IV, sitting for 3-4 hours, and the steroids.   Maybe it is that reality does set in for a day or so.
     When I got home I worked on some stuff on the computer and decided that I’d check to see the temperature of the pool.
     After “de-leafing” the pool, I slipped in.  It was tolerable.  It never ceases to amaze me how much better I feel after swimming.  More tired than before I got in, but a different kind of tired.   Maybe I will be tired enough that the steroids won’t win when I go to bed.
 
Some thoughts to ponder while I was swimming:
 
● Four or five degrees don’t matter if you are cooking something on the grill.  But four or five degrees matter in the pool.  And if you have a child that is ill, tenths of a degree might matter.
 
     Lukewarm is my preference for swimming.  Not cold, not even cool, and not hot—like a hot tub.  Lukewarm.
 
But lukewarm is a bad thing for a believer.  Jesus says in the third chapter of the book of Revelation that He would prefer us to be hot or cold—not lukewarm.  The illustration to the church at Laodicea was that there were pools outside the city from underground springs.  A person could drink from the hot springs or the cold springs, but not from the lukewarm pools.  The bacteria would make a person sick.
 
     The world has a way of beating us down.  We don’t intend for it to happen, but sometimes we get to the place where we are lukewarm.  It’s not the spot to stay very long before our spiritual lives suffer.
 
● It is interesting to swim when you’d prefer to stay in the water that is warmer than the air, especially when the wind is blowing.
 
● Should a loving husband tell his wife that there is a frog in the pool or just let her get the joy of surprise when she looks at one of Kermit’s kin eyeball to eyeball?
 
Lord, I don’t really need a spiritual thermometer to know the temperature of my heart and soul.  It is something that I can feel.  I am glad for the “hot” times and thankful for the difficult times.  But Lord, the lukewarm times make me sick, just like they do You.  Use what You will to increase my spiritual fervor.  On fire for You might be the hope.
 

      I was faced with a decision early this morning.  We are faced with choices multiple times each day.
      I got up early to do some things in preparation for a counseling that I had at our house later in the morning.  Teresa has been watching Megan and Bryan’s three little angels for the last three days, so I wanted to make sure I had the house in order before the couple came.  There are some things you learn as a husband after 40 years of marriage.
      Knowing that my days in the pool are limited because fall is just around the corner, I headed to the pool.  It was on the way to the pool that I was confronted with the decision.
      I could see the lake.  It was like a piece of glass, kind of what I think the crystal lake will look like in heaven.  Not a leaf was rustling in the trees.  It was overcast with the forecast of a front moving through today.  All of it promised that the fishing could be good.  And fishing is something that I have done far too little this summer.
      I took a deep breath, opened the small door, and slipped into the pool.  Fishing may have to wait until the weather cools.
      This decision wasn’t life changing or earth shattering.  Life wasn’t going to change a great deal either way.  One less day in the pool wouldn’t likely affect my blood pressure or heart rate.
      Part of the underlying issue was that I had made the commitment to swim every day possible.  The early morning weather reports were that storms could come later in the afternoon. I also don’t swim when the sun is overhead. 
      As I was swimming I wrote part of this blog in my head.  I was faced with a decision with two possibilities.  Both were good things.  Swimming is a good thing, as is fishing—at least for some of us!
      In this case, I made a better decision to swim, realizing the circumstances.
      Those are often the decisions that confront us every day.  Do I choose a good thing, or do I choose the better thing?  Neither choice would have been a sin, which is often the case with some of the choices before us.
      The writer to the Hebrews says to lay aside two things as we seek to run the race—weights and sins.  Often there are some really good things that end up being weights because they are in the wrong priority in our lives.
      Having the willingness to choose the better, rather than the good, can impact our lives.
I tend to be an “all in” kind of guy.  Moderation has never been in my psyche, nor is it Biblical.  “Moderation in all things” is a lie of the enemy. 
      When it comes to being on a diet, I am all in or all out.  After last Saturday’s blog, I walked into the worship center last Sunday morning and a loving Daybreaker had placed a pack of “Nutter Butters” on the pulpit, the king or share size, of course. 
      I appreciated the loving gesture and that at least one person had read the blog.   I sat the cookies on a shelf. I plan to take them to Mayo to eat on the way home—after I weigh in there.
      Lord, help me not settle for the good thing, when You may have a better way for me.  Going the easier way or the more pleasurable route isn’t always Your plan for me.  Help me to discern Your will, even in the small decisions that I face each day. 

        When I started writing blog posts over a year and a half ago, I said that I wouldn’t write just to write.  Something had to move me, especially after the immediacy of writing to keep you updated was no longer an issue.
        For the first time in about four months I felt moved to write a blog.  I am scheduled to return to Mayo Clinic in five weeks for a six-month follow up with my hematologist.  Maybe that being on my mind was the catalyst for me to write. 
        For those of you who don’t see me often or maybe never, I have been doing as well as I could ever have hoped.  In April the chemotherapy treatments were reduced from four a month to just one a month, the one that is the most significant.
        Most of the time I feel relatively normal and I have resumed most of my typical lifestyle, though I do require a bit more sleep.
        I was moved this evening to write.  You’d never guess where it happened.  In our above ground swimming pool.
        I have tried to swim every chance that I have had this summer.  I can’t ride a bike or jog because of the cancer surgery on my leg over 20 years ago.  I’ve loved to swim since I was a kid. 
        I must admit that today was a challenge.  The cool days and even cooler nights the last 3-4 days curtailed my swimming.  I did swim once in the spa, but it’s just not the same.
        The weather warmed back up today (Friday) in Kentucky and I thought that I’d give it a shot.  I had pulled back the solar blanket earlier, hoping that the sun might warm the water a bit.
        When I stepped down the ladder, I gasped and then looked at the pool thermometer.  The water temperature has to be 80 degrees before I am willing to endure it.  The thermometer registered a balmy 80.5 degrees.  I finally took a deep breath and plunged in. 
        Some observations:
1. The Lord willing and I am still alive next summer, we might just splurge for a pool heater.
2. Bart, the cordless pool vacuum, didn’t seem to mind the cold water.
3. Apparently, I haven’t lost my competitive edge.  I can swim faster than Bart. 
4. Teresa didn’t consider a dip in the pool.
5. Today’s swim was the quickest that I have hit my target distance all summer.   I guess that there was some incentive.
 
        Let’s try to find some redeeming value in this blog.
 
        I swim for lots of reasons.  Beyond enjoying swimming, I swim for my health.  I have returned to a pretty active lifestyle but mowing the grass or working in our business doesn’t give me the exercise that I need.  Swimming is simply a different kind of exercise.  I swim to try to lower my blood pressure and lower my heart rate.
 
        And let’s face it, I swim to try to get in shape and lose some weight. 
 
        Most of you know that I have been “husky” all my life.  When I was a kid I actually wore clothes that were called husky.  That does a lot for a 13-year-old’s self-image.
 
        Though I am called to be a pastor, I am no different than any of you.  I am tempted like everyone else and deal with all the feelings that are a part of living in this world.
 
        I have written more times than any of us could count that most of the time, I have felt like I was the healthiest and the healthiest looking patient in the cancer center. 
 
        Over the past year and a half, I have come to understand that there are two reasons why cancer patients look like cancer patients.  1. They have lost their hair.  2. They have lost weight and look emaciated.
 
        By the grace of God, I didn’t have to have the stem cell transplant and most of my hair that was there before the chemo has returned.
 
        The second issue is where I have had to deal with some feelings.
 
        Over the past six months I gained back about 20 pounds of the almost 50 that I had lost a couple of years ago.  There are several reasons why.
 
● I don’t have negative feelings that cause me to overeat.  I simply like Reese’s cups, cinnamon sticks at Gatti’s, banana milkshakes, and Teresa’s cooking, including her cinnamon bread.
 
● I went with the youth this summer on a four-day mission trip.  I ate like a teenager.  Pizza and “nutter butters” may make the palette happy, but their presence continues to linger.
 
● But maybe the most significant reason I let my guard down was a self-centeredness on my part.  It seemed like the more weight I gained, the more people would say how good I looked—as a cancer patient.  That’s a first in my life.
 
        We talked some months ago that one of the results of the Fall in the Garden of Eden was that Adam and Eve became self-aware, which is the precursor to self-centeredness. 
 
        Self-centeredness is one of the issues that every one of us must try to master and overcome.  It never goes away.
 
        Sometimes it comes forth in our dominating discussions so that we are the focal point.
 
        Sometimes it comes forth in demanding our own way and feeling like we know better than anyone else.
 
        Sometimes it comes forth in putting down others, often in a self-righteousness.
 
        And sometimes even cancer patients have a tricky walk to balance the realities of what we look like and what we wish we look like.
 
        Some weeks ago I laid down the cinnamon sticks and decided that my health was far more important than if I looked better than some cancer patients.
 
        I decided that I wanted to get back to the weight that I was just before the first cancer was diagnosed. 
 
●  I guess that there would be one more reason I decided to shed a few pounds.  The trip back to Mayo looms.  A few more pounds in the next four weeks and I will go back to Rochester happy.
 
        Lord, help me when self and self-centeredness seek to control my life, which usually leads me to try to control the lives of others.  May I do as Jesus said, “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me.” Help me to love others as Paul describes love in I Corinthians 13. 

      As I write this I sit in the Cancer Center hooked to an IV.  I am more than grateful that I have only one treatment a month now.
      I met with the oncologist this morning.  It had been a few months since I had met with him and the first time since getting the good news of a second negative report on the multiple myeloma. 
      He had the biggest smile on his face that I have seen from him.  He confirmed everything that we had been told previously.  He was more definitive about just how rare my results are.  It is something that he doesn’t see often (maybe never), especially in a “non stem cell transplant” patient.
      I may not only be the heathiest looking patient today in the cancer center, but I am also likely the healthiest.
      I am a very blessed and grateful man.
 
      For a couple of reasons this has been a very difficult week.  I should have known it was coming after preaching Sunday on the theme “Restoring Your Joy.”  Often the enemy attacks me on the theme of sermons.
      This week Teresa told me about a friend of hers whose son took an eight-year-old fishing.  The young lad spent about as much time casting his lure in the trees as in the water.  The guy said that he thought maybe that he was too old to take an eight-year-old fishing.
      My solution: stay away from the trees!
      We live on a lake but casting is something that I haven’t been able to do this spring.  It might be considered a sin to live where we live and not spend more time on the lake.
      I have never been proficient using a casting rod and reel.  I grew up as a spinning rod fisherman. 
Years ago Dad and I fished a pro-am bass tournament.  The evening before the tournament the sponsors of the tournament had some contests.  I won a really nice casting rod and reel by flipping a lure the most times out of three with a casting rod into a small box.  I flipped the lure in the middle of the box the first time.  The reel backlashed as it usually does when I use a casting reel, but that meant that it stopped at the correct distance.  The next two casts were set and I won the rod and reel.  The other guys who really wanted the rod and reel weren’t too happy.
      
Peter writes in 1 Peter 5:7 “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”
Casting is something that Peter would have understood.  Before becoming one of the 12 disciples he spent most of his life casting as a professional fisherman. 
Peter didn’t cast a rod and reel. 1000s of times he would have cast a net.  On two of those occasions, Jesus performed a miracle for an extremely large catch.  One was at the calling of four disciples.   The last was after the Resurrection when Jesus restored Peter to ministry.
      The word that Peter uses for cast is used only one other time in Scripture.  When Jesus rode the donkey into Jerusalem, Luke tells us that the people cast their coats on the ground.
      This word translated cast implies two things: 1.) an earnestness and 2.) that you can’t retrieve it once it is cast.  Kind of like casting a stone into a lake.
      I must admit, this week I have had a lot of trouble casting my cares upon Jesus.  There has been an earnestness but I have functioned spiritually like I do when I cast a lure: I keep reeling it back in.
      There are lots of cares that I have cast upon Jesus and left with Him.  Most of those are things that I can’t do anything about. 
      I have one care that I continue to carry.  I have tried to cast it on Jesus but I haven’t learned just how to be able to do that.  It is one of those things that I must do my part in the culture in which we live, while at the same time I must realize that His will and His timing I cannot control.
      That care is our worship leader position at our church.  I may have been able to overcome three cancers in the past year but now I may die of a heart attack stressing over music at church.
      I have prayed as much about this as anything in the last few months and I have lost more sleep at the same time.  It has felt like a spiritual backlash that I have had about as much trouble unraveling in my heart as a tangled fishing reel.
      If I could figure out the method to do everything that I can and then leave it in Jesus’ hands, I could write a book. 
      Lord, help me live out my calling to do what is required of me to help Your will come to fruition.  Even more, teach me how to cast all my cares on You.  I am not sure I know how to experientially do that.   Lord, if You could teach me the method, I will gladly share that with others.
        And Lord, we are seeking your will when it comes to being able to worship You.

          We got back very late last evening from the drive home from Tampa.  What we thought would be a 12-and-a-half-hour trip, plus about an hour for stops, morphed into a 17-hour trip.
     The traffic was terrible, I made one bad decision about which way to go at Atlanta, and to top it off, I couldn’t get too far from being able to find a bathroom.  I so wanted to get home and sleep in my own bed that we pushed on despite how often I had to stop.
     I got on the scales this morning and my response was, “Oh, my.”  Five days of all the food you could eat, plus ice cream available for 13 hours a day, brought the result that I deserved, but had hoped wouldn’t.
How often do we choose to do things that we know what the result will likely be, but hope that somehow the outcome will be different?
     I am sometimes maligned for how limited my normal pattern of eating is.  Surely the four basic food groups are eggs, meat, green beans, and strawberries.
      I have had a “weak” stomach since I was a child.  When I was six I had a stomach ulcer.  I started to school, we moved, and our cat died.  It was more than a six-year-old could handle.
     I can’t eat spicy foods.  Teresa and the kids will go to a Mexican restaurant when I am out of town, knowing that I will never take them there.  I can eat a salad with peppers or onions and be up half the night.
     There’s a home owned wholesale meat distributor in Cynthiana from which we buy a whole sirloin strip about once a month.  After trimming off the fat, we usually end up with steaks that cost less than a Big Mac or a Whopper.
     When I am adhering to what I know is best for me, a typical day would be just eggs in the morning, maybe some cheese and fruit for lunch, and a steak, green beans, and strawberries for supper.
     Beyond eating more than I should have eaten on the cruise, I made some bad decisions about what to eat.  I had pretty much forsaken cheeseburgers and fries the last couple of years.  The cruise had great cheeseburgers and the fries were good, too.  I had them every day.  They were greasy, but very tasty.
     At Friday’s sit-down meal, one of the appetizers was frog legs.  I hadn’t had frog legs since the old “New Orleans House” went out.  I was accustomed to eating fried frog legs; these were maybe broiled.  I knew from the first bite that they wouldn’t sit well.
     They didn’t.  Coupled with the greasy burgers and other stuff that I don’t usually eat, it was more than my stomach could handle.  Those frog legs jumped in my stomach all the way home and still are this morning.   I was glad that Scott Emmons was preaching.  I stayed home, not wanting to be embarrassed if a trip to the bathroom wasn’t quick enough.
     I reaped what I had sown for five days.  
     Twice Paul uses the analogy of reaping what we sow.  The most familiar of those two is found in 2 Corinthians 9 where he writes in the context of being generous these words, “Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.”
     I have adhered to the principle of reaping and sowing when it comes to giving and generosity since I was 12 years old.  I started tithing then when I mowed lawns or shoveled the neighbor’s snow.  I have no doubt that the blessings that Teresa and I have received are a direct result of reaping what we have sown. 
     The second use of this sowing and reaping analogy is found in Galatians 6 where Paul writes, “Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life.”
     This second analogy of the Biblical principle of reaping what we sow is seen in most every aspect of life.  I sowed to please the flesh on the cruise when it came to what I ate.
     There were times on the cruise that I sowed to please the Spirit, when I chose to get alone with Him and I reaped the blessing of His Spirit’s Presence.
God cannot be mocked.  We reap what we sow.
     We see it in our schools.  We see it in our culture.  We see it in families.  We see it in many relationships. 
     We reap what we sow.  Bad decisions will likely turn out the way we know that they will, even though we hope that they won’t.
 
    There is a triple lesson to be learned here for me.
1.  Continue to live out this Biblical principle of reaping and sowing.
2. Make intentional decisions about some changes I need to make in my lifestyle.
     Today, I will go back to being on the diet that I know has worked for me.  It is an intentional choice that I will make.  Maybe in due time I can move from “Oh, my” in the morning to “Oh, yes!”
3.  Realize that God can be redemptive in the bad decisions that we have made.
 
     The reaping what we have sown has the potential to be affected by the divine grace of God.  His grace won’t change the numbers on the scales.  There are consequences to the choices we make, not just in terms of eating and weight, but in all of life.
     When we choose to sin, there are consequences.  God can and will forgive the sin, but often He cannot remove the consequences.  He can, however, be redemptive in those bad decisions, even the decision to sin.
     He works in all things to bring about His good.  He takes the worst, like the Cross, and turns it into a good far beyond what we could hope for or imagine.
 
     He can also help us to make better decisions in our lives so that we will reap His blessings.
 
     I will choose to ask Him to help me to do that this week.
 
     I don’t need His help to know that I will never again eat broiled frog legs.  However, I may need His help when it comes to a greasy cheeseburger.
 
Addendum:
     I wrote most of this before worship started and then I watched worship this morning with Scott Emmons preaching.  I am so thankful for what Scott means to me personally and to our church and so many others.
     I have wondered about the efficacy of the Lord’s Supper when it comes to those who are watching online.  As others were dining at the Lord’s Table, I shared, too, using a bit of bread from the heal of a loaf of bread and some unsweetened decaf tea.  It was the best available.
     As I prayed and took the elements in remembrance of Jesus, the Spirit of Jesus came.  I was moved by His Presence.  He isn’t limited in when, where, or how He can come to us.
 
     Sorry for the long chapter.  It’s Sunday and I needed some outlet.  I am used to preaching!

      Many of you know that Teresa and I, along with Caryn, Chris, Cooper, and Caroline are on a celebratory cruise this week in the Caribbean.  A year ago Caryn and I were far from where we are today.  We are truly grateful for God’s healing and His blessings.
      This morning I was up before the others, sitting on the back of the ship.  I have spent many hours here this week because the floor above provides a safe haven from the sun. 
      This is the fourth day that we have been at sea.  I could write several blogs about what it is like to be on the ocean and not be able to see land in any direction for miles and miles.
      Many times in my life I have stood on the beach and looked at the ocean and I have thought about the vastness of creation.  But the view from that perspective is limited when compared to being on the ocean.
       We are only in the “small” Caribbean compared to the Atlantic or the Pacific.  Yesterday, as I looked across the vastness of the ocean I thought, “Only a fool would think all of this evolved.”   There are many fools in the day in which we live. 
      I read Isaiah 5 as part of my devotion this morning.   “Woe to those who call good evil and evil good, who put darkness for light and light for darkness…Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight.”
      I have been forced to relax much of the week.  The computer wouldn’t connect to the business computer, so there hasn’t been a lot I could do.  It has been a blessed time to be with Teresa and Caryn and her family.
      Last evening when it was close to sunset I wanted to see the sun set across the horizon, so I headed to the front of the ship because we were heading due west.  The wind was blowing rather hard and I was the only person crazy enough to be where I was. 
      The railing was only about four foot tall and it hit me in the middle of my chest.  I thought what it would have been like to be as tall as Matt Rose.   Sometimes being short isn’t a bad thing!
      Clouds had rolled in at the horizon and seeing the sun set wasn’t a possibility.  What could be seen were rays of the sun shining above the clouds.  Not a bad picture of what my life has been the last 16 months. 
      Recovering from thyroid cancer and surgery has been relatively easy on one hand but in some ways difficult on another. 
      The difficult part has been regaining the strength of my voice.  I shared in a blog last fall about being at a funeral and singing, “It Is Well.”  It took me days to recover from that.
      Last evening as I stood on the bow of the ship, I started singing.  With no one else around, I spent close to 45 minutes singing in worship and praise to our Lord.
      As you might expect, I sang about the goodness of God.  “As long as I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”
      I sang about the greatness of God.  I sang about the blood of Jesus.  I sang about the promise of heaven.
      I literally sang until the evening came—and I was a bit late for dinner!
      At least when it comes to singing, it was the strongest that my voice has been since the surgery.  I am more than grateful for that.  I have very little repercussions of that today.
      I say that I try to model Jesus’ example, but I am far from doing that in lots of ways.  One of those is in the way that Jesus lived during the three years of His ministry.
      As we read the Gospels we see Jesus as both the Son of God and the Son of Man.  The human side of Jesus grew thirsty, tired, and weary.  He was so tired one day that He slept through a storm on the Sea of Galilee.  The disciples had to wake Him to save them.
      As we look closely at the Gospels, we also see times when Jesus intentionally chose to get away from the crowds and rest.  During His ministry His model was work/rest/work/rest.  Included in those times of rest were often times alone with His Father up on the mountain and away from even the disciples. 
      I need to model that far more in my life.
      Lord, I thank You for creating this world.  You have set the heavens in place by the work of Your finger.  Only a fool could think that You didn’t.  Thank You for Your greatness and Your goodness, as well as Your grace that has brought about healing.  Help me to model Jesus in my life, including the intentional choice to more often get away and spend time with You and those I love.

     I am sitting in the recliner at the Cancer Center waiting for today’s infusion.  It is the only one that I will have this month.
     Though I have yet to hear personally from my hematologist at Mayo, Dr. Leung, he has already contacted the doctor and staff here in Lexington to change my chemotherapy treatments.  I am moving from two chemotherapy drugs, to only one.  That means only one trip to the hospital now each month.  One of the chemotherapy drugs I had received three times in each cycle.  It also means no more steroids except through the IV once a month.
     I wanted to wait to be 100% sure that the results of the Bone Marrow Biopsy were as I read on my patient portal before I shared the good news publicly.  If you have seen me since Friday, you could probably read the results in my face.
     The final diagnosis from the Bone Marrow Biopsy is “No monotypic plasma cells identified (MRD-negative).”  Minimal residual disease.
     That was the hope.  Dr. Leung had indicated to us when we were at Mayo last week that two MRD-negative results changes things.
     It was a surprise last fall to me when after only six months of treatment that I was MRD-negative.  I believe that it was to the staff at Mayo, too.
     I had trouble remembering the acronym MRD.  I thought about RMDs but I am not yet at a required minimum distribution! 
     The only way I could remember the acronym was to remember the T-shirt that my kids once wore—that old saying M R Ducks.  C M wings…
     I have written parts of this blog in my head over the last week.  I had no clue that it would be difficult for me to find the words to express how I feel.
     I have had a strange feeling since last Tuesday.  It is one that I have felt only a few times before.  Every one of us knows what it is like to receive bad news that was life changing.  To receive good news that is life changing isn’t often in our frame of reference.  The day that Teresa said yes, the days our girls were born, the day I met Jesus, and a few others.
     But those weren’t news that I received.  Those were times that I experienced good news.  This is different.
     In God’s timing, my devotion for our “Six Weeks to the Daybreak” Lenten prayer booklets was the devotion for this past Sunday.  The title was “He Touched Me” from the old Gaither song by that name.
     I shared in the devotion how God has touched my life in the past year.  I recalled the words of a blog that I had written just after I decided not to have the Stem Cell Transplant (SCT) in September.  In that blog I said, “Have I been healed?  I have no clue.  What I do know is that I have been healed enough that I am coming home.”
     I have asked the same question multiple times in the last week.  Not to anyone else.  Not even to God.  What I do know is this: I have been healed enough for two consecutive MRD-negatives.  God has answered the prayers of His people, especially His children.  I have expressed my gratitude to Him and now I do to you.   Thanks for praying.  I believe that your prayers have made the difference.
     I asked the doctor’s assistant how often that she has seen these results in a patient.  She just smiled and said, “You are the first one whom I have seen who chose not to have the SCT.”   Two MRD-negatives wasn’t in her radar.
     The Benadryl took affect and I had a short nap.  It wasn’t long before it was time for the treatment.
     After leaving the hospital I was hungry because I’d had no breakfast, other than some graham crackers and peanut butter that my volunteer friend, Joe, brought.  He gave me the widest smile when I told him the good news.
     I decided to stop at Gatti’s, the first time I had done that alone in quite some time.  I pulled in the parking lot and thought, “Good choice.”  Very few cars in the parking lot.
     “Few cars” doesn’t always equal few people.  I missed the school buses parked in the lower lot.  Fifth graders were everywhere.  I should have prayed for their teachers.  The fountain drinks nearest to the food had the following taped to all but two drinks, “out due to manufacturer shortage.”  The only two drinks available?  Ale-8-1.  I couldn’t help but chuckle. 
     I sat down to eat some salad and opened the computer to finish this.  It was open maybe 15 seconds before all I saw was a blank screen.
     I headed home and had no sooner let out Oreo than Dr. Leung called.  He confirmed the good news and the backing off of the chemotherapy.  I could tell that it was one phone call that he didn’t mind making.
     In our initial consultation with Dr. Leung last spring, I asked him if there would ever come a time when the regimen of chemotherapy would be reduced.  He said that it would be very unlikely even after the SCT.
     I asked him this afternoon how often he sees this kind of thing happen.  He said in about 40% of the patients who have the SCT.    Obviously that percentage is considerably lower in multiple myeloma patients who either do not qualify for a SCT or choose, as I did, not to have it.
     Dr. Leung told us last week that the data shows that two MRD-negative results indicate that a recurrence is unlikely in the next 4-5 years.  He never used the word remission when discussing where I am with this cancer.  I take recurrence to mean that at least that the Multiple Myeloma is at bay.  He did share with us that it is highly likely that there will be a time when I will be MRD-positive.  He said that it could be years before that may happen.
     What I also know is that today is the only day that any of us has.  If the MM is at bay for 4-5 years and I have only 12 treatments a year to help maintain its submission, what more could I have anticipated?  As we have done through this, I will take each day as it comes.
     I have been tempted today when people have asked me, “How are you today?” to respond with “better than I deserve.”  Most people would think that I am just responding like Dave Ramsey.
     The truth is that I am better than I deserve, far more than financially.  Who ever deserves God’s blessings?  It is by His grace and His grace alone.
     Lord, that you for the magnificent news.  Thank you for so many encouragers who have been and still are walking with us through this.  I am at Your disposal to use as You see fit. I have tried to be since Your calling on my life.
 
     I am sorry for the book.  I had a lot on my mind and heart.  A couple of things. 
 
1.) The nursing staff at Baptist wasn’t any better than the staff at Mayo in inserting an IV.  I think it has more to do with how many times I have been stuck than the proficiency of the staff.   Then again, when they finally called in the “expert,” she found a vein on the first stick with very little pain.  Maybe that ought to be her main responsibility!
 
2.) I realized today just how well trained I am as a husband when I lowered the lid in the male/female bathroom.

     The news this evening is “so far, so good.”  Tomorrow afternoon we have the most important appointment, the one with Dr. Leung, the hematologist who oversees my care.
     I feel like I am back writing as a sports editor like I did when I was in high school.  In a sports story the final score is usually written in the opening paragraph and then the details in the body of the article.
     I have given you the final score of today, now some details.
     Honestly, it was one of my harder days in terms of treatments.
     The day started with a PET Scan.  The scan itself isn’t difficult.  Getting ready for it was.
     My practical theory of male nurses vs female nurses bore out today.  Twice.  Getting the IV inserted was the most difficult that I have had during these last 15 months.  Three sticks before he found a vein.  Each one, including the one that finally worked, was more than the Biblical “seek and you will find.”  It was more like the Biblical “searching for the lost sheep.”
     I had to fast since last evening for both tests today.  I figure that may have had something to do with it.  I came as close to passing out as I have in a long, long time by the time the IV was in place. 
     After the PET scan I headed to the waiting room for blood work.  It was a long walk from one end of Clinic buildings to the other using the subway.
     Teresa knew by the paleness of my face that things hadn’t gone as hoped.
There must be close to 100 chairs in the waiting room and most of them were taken.  I was finally called to door #2.  It had the “Let’s Make a Deal” feeling, though there were no prizes behind any of the three doors.
     The female tech/nurse took more time than I anticipated.  She finally found the vein she wanted and her first stick was successful.   I do realize that the needle to draw blood is a smaller needle. 
     We headed to the Bone Marrow Biopsy.  I do appreciate how the staff at Mayo tries to schedule appointments as close as possible, rather than over 3-4 days.
     As I was waiting to be called back, I asked to go to the bathroom.  When I walked into the hallway there was a ruckus going on.  There must have been 15-20 people in the hallway, all dressed in scrubs.
     When I got closer I realized there was a cart of candy and the staff was permitted to take what they wanted. 
     I learned later that this was done during Covid to lift the morale of the staff.  It was taken away after Covid and there was so much complaining that it was brought back.  The candy is free of charge.
     As one who has spent his life in the candy business, it did my heart good!
     I was taken back for the biopsy with the IV still in my arm from this morning.  No more sticks other than the biopsy while under sedation.
     Well, not quite.  The IV was no longer working and another one was needed.  I like threes.  Seeing Reed Sheppard hit seven of eight of threes in the second half on Saturday was a good thing.  Three has many Biblical references and most of them are good.
     Being stuck three times to insert a second IV was not so good.  On this day it was male nurses six sticks.  Female nurse one stick.  I intend to thank the nurses at Baptist Health when I go back next week for the next cycle of chemotherapy.
     The final appointment was to meet with Dr. Brito, the endocrinologist.  I really like this doctor.  I mentioned that in a blog last fall when I first met him.
     Because he was the first doctor with whom we had met after the PET Scan and the blood work, he was the one to give us the good news, at least on two of the cancers.
     The PET Scan showed no signs of a new cancer. 
     The blood work indicated that the left side of my thyroid is working so well that it is producing enough that I will not need any medication at least for now.
     Dr. Brito confirmed that it was likely a good thing that the thyroid cancer was removed when it was because of the location of the cancer to the nerve that runs to my vocal chords.  Waiting six months as originally intended might have brought a different result. He even mentioned that he thought my voice was stronger than it was before the surgery. 
     Dr. Brito said, “The results thus far could not be better.”
     I will not be scheduled to see him until next spring.
     Overconfidence has never been a feeling that I have had when it comes to dealing with cancer for the past 23 years.   I surely don’t feel that way this evening and I won’t feel overconfident after seeing Dr. Leung tomorrow, regardless of the results of meeting with him. 
     He can look at the blood work and make an educated guess; the definitive results of the biopsy will take 3-5 days.
     What I do feel is optimistic.  So far, so good.   Other than some pain, what more could I have asked for in this day?
     Well, maybe one more thing.  Supper at Teresa’s favorite restaurant!  And we even got in during the early bird special.
     Thanks for your prayers.

     I knew when Teresa called that one of God’s children was at the church looking for some help.
     When we were in Ashland as a youth pastor, the Social Services Agency was across the street.  It was a very short walk to the church.  When I was in my office and the church secretary called and said, “One of God’s children is here” I knew to come down immediately.
     Susan, not her real name, though I really don’t know if the name she gave me was her name, was about 55.  She carried her belongings in a pack, along with a portable camping chair.  I’d never seen one of God’s children carrying around a chair.  She was sitting in it when some folks arrived for church on Wednesday evening last week.
     I spoke with her for a while.  It was a cold night and she wanted a room at a motel.  I asked her where she normally stayed and she said near Richmond Road.  I asked her why she was on Reynolds Road and she said because there aren’t any churches on Richmond Road.
     The last few weeks on Wednesday evenings the Bible Study videos had been on God’s grace that reaches out to the lost, or the marginalized, or the ones who are hurting, regardless of how they became lost.  What was a person to do when a lost person shows up at the church?  God has a way of testing us at times.
     I agreed to take her to a motel near Nicholasville Road.  Sharon rode along in the back seat of Teresa’s car, between two of the grandkids’ car seats.
     When we got to the motel the clerk asked for her ID.  Susan didn’t have one.  Someone had stolen it.  Hum, I have heard that one more times than you can count on one hand from someone close to us who is about Susan’s age and station in life.
     She then says to me, “The Sportsman Motel on Winchester Road will take you if you don’t have an ID.”  Somehow I wasn’t surprised that she knew that. 
     I asked, “So, I assume that you are expecting me to take you to the Sportsman Motel?” 
     With Sharon still in the backseat, we headed to the Sportsman. 
     About the time that we get to the Woodhill Center, Susan asks me, “Could you stop at the Speedway and get me two big bags of Doritos?  They are only about $8.00.”
     I said, “You know we brought you a take-out supper from church.”
     Her response was, “I don’t eat very much meat.”
     We get to the Sportsman and go in to check her in.  The clerk spoke about as much English as I did whatever might have been his native language. 
     During our discussion, Susan asks the clerk, “Is room 110 available?”  Could it be that she had been in that room before?  I didn’t even have to wonder about that.
     We finally got her checked in.  As I was leaving, I encouraged her to get her life in order, much implying her walk with the Lord.  Her response was as you might expect.
     I headed back to church with Sharon still in the backseat.  You might guess why and what we sprayed on the front seat when we arrived at the church.
     We consistently deal with a family member who is much like Susan.  Always the victim in their mind.  
     One major expectation with Susan and with him: Entitlement.  Susan felt like she was entitled for us to get her a room at a motel.  She felt entitled that we would take her across town.  She felt entitled that we ought to buy her two big bags of snacks. 
     Two things came out of this encounter.  One is obviously how we try to deal with and/or help one of God’s children who is in need, often because of their own bad choices.  If I had the answer to that, I’d be rich from the sale of the book explaining how.  It is a very difficult thing to deal with folks who are unappreciative, though Jesus said to give a cup of water in His Name.  That I tried to do.
     The second thing is my/our attitude toward God’s grace and mercy to us.  Surely there is never a time when I feel entitled to God’s grace, love, mercy, forgiveness, healing or any of His blessings. 
Though those blessings come from His hand, I am never entitled or worthy of them, regardless of how close I may be to Him or how obedient I have tried to walk with Him.
     Lord, help me see others as You see them today.  By the power of the Holy Spirit, please check my heart if there is any time that I feel deserving of Your blessings in my life.  Help me to be grateful for Your blessings, Your grace, Your love, and a multitude of other things in my life.  Help me to deal with others as You deal with me.