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.

      I began writing this while sitting in the waiting room on Mayo Building 10th floor, desk E.  Mayo 10E is where Dr. Leung, my main doctor here, has his office.  I have been here often.
 
      Almost a month ago I had tests and other doctor visits, but Dr. Leung was unavailable on that visit.  I made the choice to return to Rochester to see him in person, rather than by Zoom. 
 
      I also made the choice to come alone.  Oreo, our aging dog isn’t doing well, and we hated to leave her with someone else.  Sometimes alone isn’t a bad thing.  I spent the first part of the trip yesterday with the radio off and my “heart to pray” on.  I should do that more often.
 
      The trip here was different than most times that I have come to Mayo.   I usually leave after church on Sunday and end up getting here before midnight.   Yesterday I left about nine in the morning so I got to Rochester early in the evening.
 
      Instead of heading to the hotel, which is within eyesight and walking distance to Mayo, I headed to eat at Teresa’s favorite restaurant.  As I made my way to the hotel, still in the daylight, I didn’t get that usual feeling of apprehension mixed with hope when I drive into Rochester and see the Mayo buildings.
 
      I know the results of the tests and I believe that I know that what I will hear this afternoon should be good news.  It has been an almost stress-free trip to Mayo.
 
      Well, at least until I got on the Mayo elevator and punched the 10th floor button.  I can’t explain it, but I had this anxiety flow into my heart.  It’s not a fear.  It’s not a worry. It’s not crippling.
 
      I had intended to do some things while I was waiting.  I came two hours early just in case.  The “just in case” rarely works out, but it was worth a shot.  It didn’t today.  It looks like I will be happy if they call me close to my appointment time.
 
      The anxiousness remained when I sat down.  If you have read many of these blogs, you know that I write when things are on my mind and heart.   Putting them down helps me deal with some things. 
 
      Sometimes I pray.  Sometimes I speak with others.  And sometimes I write.  Some of the blogs I have never sent; they ended up being just for my benefit.  This may be one of those.  Honestly, my heart has quietened as I have written—though not completely! 
 
      Prayer at this point isn’t for results, it is for a calmness in my heart. 
 
      I am blessed beyond measure.  Last week I met with a guy who was giving me an estimate on some things at the house.  It didn’t take long to realize that he was a believer.  I shared with him a small part of my story.  He had one response: GRACE!
 
      He was right as I have shared.  It is only by God’s grace that I have come this far.  And whatever I hear this afternoon will be because of God’s grace.     
 
      Instead of doing some things that I intend to do, I spent about 30 or 40 minutes in the Word trying to better understand grace. 
 
      Grace is a “post Cross” concept.  Grace is mentioned only 13 times in the Old Testament; only three or four that wouldn’t be about a person’s character.
 
      Grace is mentioned only 3 times in the Gospels, all of them in John’s Prologue where he speaks of Jesus being full of grace and truth.
 
      Grace comes in a variety of ways.  There is saving grace as Paul says in Ephesians 2 that “we are saved by grace.”
 
      There is sufficient grace that comes when God chooses not to remove a thorn in the flesh and says, “My grace is sufficient for you.”
 
      There is dying grace when God calls us to His eternal glory.
 
      There is undeserved blessing by God’s grace.
 
      There is grace that enables us to overcome temptation.
 
      And there is simply “living” grace that enables us to live as His followers every day.
      
      In the vast majority of references to grace, grace is something that is given.  Grace is a gift from God, a gift we don’t deserve, but is given to us out of the Father’s great love.
 
      Writing, prayer, and study of the Word is a pretty good treatment for handling anxiety.
 
      I feel better, somewhat.  As the time for the appointment comes, not fully at peace.  The rest of my life somewhat hinges on what the doctor decides.  I guess maybe I ought to be a tad nervous.
 
      I will tell you the results of the visit tomorrow after I get back to Kentucky!  I will hit the road as soon as I can.

     I began writing this last Monday while waiting for my first appointment at Mayo Clinic.  I am finishing it while taking chemotherapy this morning at Baptist Health in Lexington.  I apologize for not sending blogs last week, but my computer decided that it didn’t want to connect.  I finally got it fixed today.  I also apologize for this blog’s length.
 
     I was a sportswriter in high school for the local newspaper, so I am writing this like I was covering a basketball game giving the most important information first and then filling in the details.  If you watched the Colorado State vs Maryland game yesterday, the story would lead with the buzzer beater that Maryland hit to win the game.
 
     The buzzer beater is that Dr. Hicks confirmed that the Bone Marrow Biopsy for the third time in a row is MRD-negative.  That means that the multiple myeloma cells are so few that they don’t register. 
 
     The results are three for three.  All three cancers are in check.  Feel free to stop here if you don’t want the details!
 
     Over the past two years I have had moments when God spoke to my heart.  He did through a great niece on Sunday as I faced what was lying ahead when we got to Mayo.
 
     Carly is a special child and very special to me.  Her mom sends us a video of Carly encouraging me and letting me know that she was praying for me. 
 
     It is pretty humbling to be prayed for by an 11-year-old.  It is also more than moving.  (I watched it again this evening.  It might be hard to sleep unless the lump in my throat goes away.)
 
     Teresa and I had an uneventful trip to Rochester a week ago Sunday, arriving about 10:30 their time. 
 
      As I drove down Broadway and could see the Mayo buildings that were silhouetted in the clear, dark sky, I sensed the same feelings that I have had almost every time I have come to Mayo Clinic—apprehension mixed with hope.
 
     2025 marks 25 years that I have been coming to Mayo.  I can’t say that it seems like yesterday since that first visit.  Lots of water under the bridge since then.
 
     What came to me Sunday night after seeing the Mayo buildings was that I am more than a blessed man.  As serious as the sarcoma was 25 years ago, I would have signed up then to live another 25 years.  The Lord willing, I might exceed that.
 
     My first appointment was to have blood drawn.  The young tech was very proficient, as well as personable.  When she finished wrapping my arm I said to her, “You can be my vampire anytime.”  She laughed as did I.  In the midst of lots of pain here, there is also lots of hope and joy.
 
     My next test was a PET Scan.  The nurse was a believer and we talked about where she went to church.  An hour and a half later I headed to the big one for the day—the bone marrow biopsy.
 
     Things went as expected and we got back to the hotel with just a sore hip. 
 
     As do some other medical facilities, Mayo posts the test results as soon as they are available, usually before I see the doctor.  I have found this to be true: I know just enough to know that I don’t know enough to be elated or worried.  But I read them anyway!
 
     I was smart enough to know my PSA was perfect.
 
     We ate at Teresa’s favorite restaurant thanks to one of you. 
 
     I was zonked after the day, so I headed to bed early.
 
     I got up early and ate some breakfast.  A teenager rolls in and stops to eat at the table next to mine.  Yes, he rolled in in his wheelchair.  He was a nice young man.  He maneuvered his chair himself.
 
     I chose to ride the shuttle this morning and saw the young man waiting for the driver to put his wheelchair on the lift on the shuttle.  I got on the shuttle and could hear the lift.  When the young man was secure I heard him say to the driver, “Thank you, sir.”
 
     When I went through security and the officer asked, “Do you have any guns, knives, or explosives?” I gave him my pat answer, “No, just these hands of steel.”  He cracked up.  I told him that I would try to keep my hands of steel in check.
 
     As I sit waiting for an ultrasound that is intended to give the doctor insight into my thyroid, I am sitting in the waiting room adjacent to another teenager, a young girl maybe 13 or 14.  Unlike most folks at Mayo, she is wearing a mask.
 
     The tendency to complain about a hurting hip goes out the window when I encounter two teenagers who are at Mayo needing treatment.  Lord, help me be grateful.  I prayed for both of them.  My health struggles started at 46, not at 16.
 
     I met with Dr. Brito, my endocrinologist.  He is one of my favorites.  He has a persona that enables you to trust him.  There was no indication that the thyroid cancer had returned.  From the blood work, it appears that the left side is overcompensating, which I guess is better than undercompensating.  He was concerned enough that he wants to see me in six months rather than a year.
 
     Dr. Brito did give me a compliment that I can’t remember hearing before.  He said, “You look really good—for your age.”  I think it was a compliment….
 
     We headed home.  The ride back was as uneventful as the ride up.  We hit two days of good weather in between significant storms.
 
     I am finishing this, as said at the start, while I am taking chemotherapy.  I usually come on Tuesdays, but I came today so I could see Dr. Hicks, who is in Frankfort on Tuesdays.
 
     My nurse today we will call nurse L.  It’s my first time having her because she goes with Dr. Hicks to Frankfort on Tuesdays.  I have had several nurses in these two plus years.  I would take nurse L every time.
 
     First stick on the IV.  She knows exactly what is to be done with myeloma patients.  She is extremely competent.  She has a winsome personality.   I feel as comfortable as possible in the Cancer Center.
 
     After Dr. Hicks gave me the details, I couldn’t help but ask him how often he sees patients with three straight MRD-negatives.  He smiled.  He looked at me and said, “You are a blessed man.  I have seen consecutive MRD-negatives.  I have seen patients with multiple cancers.  You are rare.”
 
     And so as I contemplate what I thought to be the case, with IV fluids dripping into my veins, I must admit that the guilt that I have felt is poignant this morning.
 
     People often ask, “Why me, Lord?” when they get bad news.  I am asking, as I have often in this, “Why me, Lord?” after getting the best news that I could receive.
 
     All I can say is that I am still trying to understand God’s grace.  That is the only answer to the question.  It has nothing to do with deserving; it has everything to do with God’s mercy.
 
     Someday when I stand on the other side, hopefully I will understand.  But for now, I see in a mirror dimly.
 
     What I do know is that I am a very blessed man.  Right behind is that I am a very grateful man.
 
     As I have tried to do for the past 25 years I intend to live each day to the fullest.  Each day is a gift from God.  Lord, help me to use each day wisely.
 
     And so I will hug my wife, my kids and grandkids, others in our family, and others I love when given the opportunity.  I will cherish the privilege to be a pastor.  I will work at our business.
 
     And maybe, just maybe, I might find a day or two to see if I am smarter than a fish at Beaver.

     It’s amazing how the Lord can take something small and turn it into much more.
     Jesus did that with a young lad’s lunch to feed a multitude.
     My last blog was about a one-toothed woman at Burger King.  I stopped by there four more times, hoping to give her more than the $1.00 that started this thing, but to no avail.
     On the fifth time success.  Well, kind of.  When I got there about lunchtime, there she was. 
     But there was a problem.  There were two workers about the same age, the same body size, and the same hair color.  I wasn’t sure which lady she was.
     I mean, it wasn’t like I could ask both of them, “Would you ladies smile for me?”
     I have come to believe that the Lord had more plans to use a dollar and a one-toothed lady to do more than I thought at the time.  And more than I imagined when I wrote the last blog, sharing what I intend to do over the next few weeks.
     I had lunch today with my sister, Jan, who was in Cynthiana because she couldn’t get home to Hindman due to the weather.
     Jan shared with me a story that moved my heart.
     There’s a family that Jan knew who had a family member who had an illness that required them to travel a long distance for treatment.  This family couldn’t afford to stay in the city where the treatment was, though it would have been far better for the patient.  So, this family traveled back and forth.
     Jan shared with me about another person who heard their story and had read the last blog.  This person was moved to give enough money for this family to stay at least a couple of days.
     Jan then shared about another family that was considering matching the gift. 
     Before lunch was over it looked like one dollar to a one-toothed lady had turned into possibly several hundred-fold, enabling this family to stay about a week if they need to do so. 
     I should never doubt the power of our Lord.  Nor should I doubt doing what the Holy Spirit nudges me to do.
     I am looking forward to seeing what the Lord still has up His sleeve to use a one-dollar bill and a one-toothed lady.  I will let you know as I know.
 
     On a second note.  My Beaver squirrels’ prediction of a bad winter has been fully verified.  We are enduring the worst winter in Kentucky in several years.  We are facing more snow and dangerously cold weather this week.
     How remarkable is God’s creation.
      If only those squirrels could predict the stock market!

     Over the last two years I have written some blogs that no one but me ever read.  Most of the time if there was something in the blogs that I thought might be construed differently than my intent, I usually either deleted it or didn’t post it.
     This one goes against that grain.  If you take it differently than my intent, it’ll just have to be that way.
     One of the principles that I live by is “don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”  That is one of the things that Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount.  I try to live that way personally and we try to do that as a church, with no one except the leaders who count the offering knowing what anyone gives, including me.
     But I got the nudge to share this with you.  I think I know why.
     I was on the way to Cynthiana on Wednesday after having lunch.  A large glass of water at lunch meant that a stop in Georgetown was necessary.
     I stopped at a fast-food restaurant.  I’ve always believed that it was unfair to use someone’s facilities without buying something, so I thought that I would top off lunch with a cup of ice cream.  I am sure that stuns most of you.
     The lady behind the counter rang up my ice cream.  It came to $1.06.  I reached in my pocket and felt no change, so I handed the lady two $1.00 bills.
     That’s when things out of the ordinary began.  This 50ish lady looks up at me (she was shorter than I am).  I can see only one lower tooth, the only tooth that I think she has.  
     She pushes one of the two $1.00 bills back towards me, reaches into her pocket, and she says to me, “I have some change.  I’ll pay the six cents.”
     I have shared several times in these blogs that I am not a very good receiver, but this was one that there was no way that I was going to be on the receiving end.
     I slid the dollar bill back to her and said, “Why don’t you just keep the dollar?”
     The look on her face was a look that I wish that I could express to you in words. 
     I smiled at her, took my cup of ice cream, and headed to Cynthiana.
     As is obvious by me writing a blog sometime later, the encounter with the one-toothed lady wasn’t over, at least in my heart.  As I neared Cynthiana I wished that I had done something differently, far more than one dollar that was on the counter.
     As I headed back home a few hours later, I stopped by to see if the lady was still at work.  I stopped again the next day at lunch, hoping the lady would be working.  Since then I have stopped a third time.
     As you could guess, I intended to give her something that was more than before.  
     Obviously, my concern about writing this blog is that I wouldn’t want to imply, nor anyone to think, that I was such a good person.
     Here is the “why” that I think I got the nudge to write this.  
     I have had a heart for the working poor for most of my adult life.  My dad came from a very poor family.   
     Lots of days I encounter, as do many of you, folks on their journey who have a more difficult financial journey than I do.  I am not the guy who gives to the homeless person standing with a sign on the street corner.   The nudge from the Lord would almost have to be audible.
     But what if I listened more to the Spirit to help someone working at Burger King like this lady?  It might bless my day, as well as their day.
     Though I started this on Friday, I finished it over the weekend, pondering some way to respond going forward. 
      I have decided to set aside an amount that I am going to use to bless some folks who are working in a service-related job, most likely a server in a restaurant or a clerk and bless them with something out of the ordinary, beyond a normal tip.
     Over the next few weeks I intend to do that 10 times, as the Holy Spirit nudges me.
     I invite you to consider doing the same thing.
     If you choose to do so and something special happens, I’d love to hear about it.
     The one-toothed little lady might just have a lasting effect.   Hopefully we can, too.

     For the first time in a couple of months, last evening I got the nudge.  I have committed to not writing except when I sense the nudge of the Spirit.  I finally sensed that again.
     Yesterday I met a new soulmate.  Not in the way we usually think of it, of course.  Maybe the better term would be a new shipmate because we are on the same ship. 
     I was at the warehouse yesterday afternoon when a manufacturer’s rep came for a scheduled meeting with me.  We had some products that had been damaged and he was to process the return. 
     We spent maybe 10-15 minutes on the return and another hour or more on what mattered.
     I will call him DK.  He’s 20 years to my younger.  He has a family and two teens.  He looks good, but he has been through a lot. 
     I wasn’t sure that he was the one I had heard about, so I asked him, “How are things going for you?”  “Good, he said.  “How about you?”
     Then I asked him, “How is your health?”  That was intended to open the door. 
     “I’m doing as well as could be expected,” was his reply.  Then he admitted what I thought was the case.  “I have multiple myeloma.”
     DK was diagnosed six years ago after having some extreme pain.  He had a stem cell transplant and has been on a chemotherapy pill daily for three weeks out of four since then.
     If he was in the Cancer Center getting treatment, I couldn’t say that I was the healthiest looking person there.   20 years might have something to do with that.
     We shared our individual stories on treatments, fatigue, hope, and reality.  He so wants to see his kids grow up.  I wasn’t far from his age when I first had cancer over 20 years ago.  I understood just how he felt.
     Like other cancers, multiple myeloma affects people differently.  Honestly, he and I are fortunate ones.
     I hadn’t thought about it until after we had met, but DK is the first multiple myeloma patient that I have known personally.   I had seen some other patients at Mayo Clinic, and I have heard of others who have myeloma, but he’s the first person I actually know who has the same disease.
     Our sharing was open and free with each other.  He has been treated locally.  It was obvious that I knew more about the disease.  Mayo gets credit for that. 
     I worked hard not to imply anything that might be construed as critical of any care that he had received.  It is apparent that he is doing well.
     Being the ponderer that I am, I have mulled over in my mind my time with DK a lot in the last 24 hours.  Here are some takeaways for me.
     It’s a very hard thing when you are able to see some possibilities, both positive and negative, and can’t cross those bridges.  I must leave his care to those who have been successful thus far, while at the same time hoping to get him some more insight.
     As we were sharing together this thought came to me.  Maybe it was the nudge of the Spirit.  If he would like to at some point, I invited him to go with me to Mayo.  I will be stunned if someday that doesn’t happen.  
     A second takeaway was how quickly we became friends.  I didn’t ask if he was a believer, but that wasn’t the critical issue at this point.  I have a heart for DK and his family.   He jumped on my prayer list rather quickly.
     The third takeaway is why I am writing after such a long pause.  I sent him an email, thanking him for coming and how much I enjoyed the privilege to get to know him.  Let me share with you part of the email that he sent back:
     “I wanted to respond and tell you that I also enjoyed our time and it was really helpful just talking about the process with someone who was going through the same thing.  You can talk to a lot of people, but it’s different when the other person can really relate.”
     DK is correct, isn’t he?  It is different when you share with someone whom you know who knows. 
     As shipmates, we have both found that sometimes the water is pretty rough.  Sometimes it is like you are in a storm and the sun can’t be seen.  Sometimes the sun shines, the winds die down, and the water is calm.  But with multiple myeloma you’re never off the ship.
     As I read his email, I couldn’t help but think of the value of the church.  Paul says that we are to come alongside of others to comfort them with the same comfort that God has given to us. 
     There is so much as believers with which we can relate.  We are all sinners, saved by grace.   None of us is worthy.  All of us have struggles.
     And then sometimes by the grace that God gave us in one of life’s struggles, we are able to come alongside of someone who is in the same struggle and take them by the hand.
      And it helps.  It really helps when we know that they know what we are going through.
     Thanks, DK, for bringing meaning and purpose to yesterday.  And maybe a touch of hope for both of us.