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.

     I am writing this on Thanksgiving Day, but not about Thanksgiving.  Maybe I should.  I do have lots for which I am thankful.  I am more than a blessed man.
     I took the advice of my oncologist and scheduled a colonoscopy.  He advised that after dealing with three cancers in the past two years, maybe it was time to do the normal “medical things” for a person my age.
     My last colonoscopy was in 2011.  It was past time.
     Two things happened in preparation for the scope.  One of them had happened maybe only once or twice before.  The second had never happened in the last two years during any of the numerous medical procedures that I have had.
     First, I had tears well up in my eyes during the preparation phase.
     It’s not as you think.  As unpleasant as the preparation is, drinking the magnesium citrate didn’t bring tears.  It brought what it was intended to do.  If someone could make that stuff taste better they could be a millionaire.
     Being up most of the night didn’t bring tears either.
      Having the IV inserted didn’t bring tears.  This one was one of the easiest that I have had, and I have had lots of them.  There have been a couple that brought enough pain that I would like to have cried.
     What made tears well up in my eyes was the nurse, actually a nurse practitioner, who handled the preparation.
     We will call her Milly.  I have met very few people like her in the medical field.  Tears didn’t come because she was gruff, mean, or uncaring. 
     Milly is a thirty-something, beautiful young woman in every sense of the word.  She is a believer.  She is married and has a three-year-old son.  She is highly intelligent and very skilled.
     Part of her responsibility was to look over my health records to see if I was at risk in having the colonoscopy.  Because the “colonoscopy center” is out of the Baptist Health network, she had no access to what had happened in the last two years.
     It took a while to recap the diagnosis and treatments for the three cancers.  She was more than knowledgeable, even on multiple myeloma.  I shared with her the plan was to have the stem cell transplant and then not having to have the transplant because of the great results from chemotherapy and prayer.
     She had been typing in the information on the laptop, but I could tell that she was more than simply recording data.
     I asked her if I had time to share a short story.  She backed away from the laptop.
     I shared with her that on Mayo Clinic’s “spreadsheet” there wasn’t a column for the effect of prayer.  God’s power and grace have brought His healing because of the prayers of God’s people, especially children.
     I shared with her that just a few days before we were to leave for the transplant that three of my granddaughters, ages two, four, and just turned seven came out wearing t-shirts that said, “PawPaw’s prayer warriors.”
     As I have shared in these blogs, I shared with her that I have never asked God to heal me.   I have, however, asked God not to destroy their faith.
     It was more than Milly could take and more than she had bargained for in screening a patient for a procedure.   Seeing the tears well up in her eyes was more than I could take.
     Neither of us could say anything.  We didn’t need to.  The tears spoke louder than any words ever could.   Tears often do that.
     And then the second thing happened that has not happened in the last two years during all the treatments, doctors’ appointments, and procedures.
     Without saying a word, Milly spontaneously reached over and gave me a hug. 
     There isn’t a great deal of joy in the colonoscopy surgery center, except, of course, when patients get good results.  I did and I am on the 10-year plan.
     But the greater joy was experiencing a light in the middle of what can be a dark place.  I will long remember Milly.
     Milly moved on to the next patient and it wasn’t long before I was taken into the room for the scope with a totally different staff.  I couldn’t get the redness out of my eyes quickly enough.  I wonder if they wondered what happened in the preparation that would have made tears well up in my eyes.
     I have a feeling that maybe Milly’s next patient may have thought the same.
     I thought about Milly lots of times the rest of the day on Monday, and several times since as is obvious by my writing about her.
     I have prayed for her and her family.
   On Sunday I preached on what seemed to be an unusual passage for Thanksgiving Sunday.  I preached from Deuteronomy 8, part of the sermon that Moses preached to the Israelites as they were standing on the edge of the Jordan River getting ready to enter the Promised Land.  If you haven’t heard the sermon, I would encourage you to take the time.  It’s a sermon in part that lays down God’s principles for handling wealth.
     There is a line in verse 7 that says “For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land.”
     That is God’s heart for His children—to bring us into a good land, a land of blessing.
     I prayed that prayer for Milly, that God will bring her into a “good land,” a land of blessing in her life, her marriage, with her son, and even her ministry at the colonoscopy center.
     We never know when or where God may show up.  Who would ever have thought it might be while waiting for a procedure that none of us enjoys.
      May God use you today, maybe even in an unlikely place.  We are called to be the salt and the light.  I experienced both through the loving heart of one of His own this week.

Saturday, November 2, 2024  Sent
       I wrote this earlier in the week, but didn’t have peace about sending it until this morning.
 
Wednesday, October 30, 2024  Peace Revisited
       The last couple of days have been two of the tougher ones in quite some time.  It had nothing to do with the illnesses I have battled.  It had nothing to do with a new decade in the sights.  Why, it didn’t even have a thing to do with Teresa!
       I had had two circumstances, one at church and one at work that have been weighing on my mind and heart.  I could relate with the Apostle Paul when he wrote, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”  Hum, I think we just sang that last Sunday.
       I’m not at liberty to share the details of either situation, but they both were heavy on me. 
       I have a not-so-crazy belief that stress was a major determinant for me to end up with cancer over 20 years ago and then again almost two years ago.
       Not the normal stresses of life, but what I call “stress of the heart.”  Something that cuts to the core of who you are.  It’s that pit in your stomach that doesn’t go away.
       It’s not depression.  Depression is a rarity for me, if ever.
       It’s more like despair over a circumstance that I can’t change.
       The biggest symptom is the churning in my heart.
      Honestly, the last two years I have worked really hard at trying not to be emotionally involved or emotionally at risk when situations have arisen.  I am sure at times some folks have thought that I have been aloof or uncaring when I haven’t reached out to them because of this concern about the destructive possibilities I’ve felt at times.
       I went to bed knowing that sleep would be a hope more than a reality.  The one time I did fall off to sleep for a few minutes, Oreo decided the old dog needed to go out.  Her, not me.
       I finally rolled out of bed and decided that what I was feeling was no way to live and the worst thing for me, in lots of ways, including my health.
       And I did something that I have never done in my five decades of preaching.  I decided to look at a sermon that I had preached before. 
       Oh, I have looked at past sermons.  There was a time that I had 25 years of preaching at Daybreak in two filing cabinets.  One Saturday the Lord said, “Throw them all in the dumpster.”   Like the grapevine, fruit comes on the new growth.  And I did, without one regret.
       But this time looking at a sermon that I had previously preached was totally different.  I went back and looked at a sermon that I preached for my own benefit.  I had never done that before.
       Last year I preached a series of sermons on peace.  The first one was on peace WITH God.  The second was on the peace OF God.   It was the latter sermon I wanted to see.   I still had it on my computer.
       As I read through that sermon, God did an amazing work in my heart—not because of the sermon, but because of the principles from God’s Word that were in the sermon.
       And by the time that I had read through the sermon, the gift of peace that passes our understanding had flooded my heart.  Gone was the turmoil.  Gone was that pit that I had struggled with for two days.  They had been replaced by the sweet peace of Jesus.
       Being a pastor can be a very tough calling.  I think that Daybreak is more difficult than most because of our unashamed stance for life.   It is the enemy’s greatest area of warfare as we can see in our country.  His attack on our church is more than obvious, just by looking at the heartaches that have come to several people in our church who have been involved at Assurance.
       By the time that I met with someone who was in a far greater crucible than I perceived myself to be, God had brought me to a place where my concern was on their need.  It is where I always want to be as a pastor, though I fall far short of that.
       One of the things that we all know, but at times fail to realize in the moment, is that if our focus is on us and our problems, then it is doubtful that we will ever be able to help someone else.
       The second thing that we know is that the only way that we can come alongside of others is to know the comfort that Jesus brings alongside of us in our times of struggle. 
       It happened to me this morning.  It can happen to you.
     The sermon resonated so much with me this morning that I considered including it at the end of this blog.  I thought that maybe a better plan would be to ask Megan to post it on the church’s website and leave it there for a while.  You never know when you might get one of those pits in your stomach, and it will be there for you to read.
       Daybreak-lex.com
       After finishing the blog, I am wondering if I will get a bill from Mike Courtney for counseling!

I predict that this will be a colder than normal winter. I haven’t heard that from the weather folks on TV. I haven’t checked the Farmers Almanac. I base my prediction on one thing:
The Beaver squirrels. For the last two months they have been going crazy.
We have at least six hickory trees in our yard. In the previous four years that we have lived here I have fretted each fall because of the number of hickory nuts and shells that have fallen from those trees. The grass hardly grows under one of the trees because of the nuts. I have scooped up wheelbarrow loads of them.
But not this year. I have seen only two hickory nuts this fall on the ground.
In the past two months we have seen the residue of the cracked-opened shells of the nuts so thick on the driveway that it looked like it was a different color.
So, I am predicting a cold winter. I guess that we will see.
One evening recently I drove home after dark. The full moon was stunning.
A couple of days ago Teresa and I took a short boat ride on Beaver Lake. The water was like a piece of glass and a few of the trees were beginning to turn.
God’s creation is an amazing thing.
It never ceases to amaze me that the people who are considered to be the smartest are actually foolish.
Paul writes in Romans 1:20 For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.
How can anyone be so foolish to think that all this just happened or evolved from an amoeba?
As I was glancing at the full moon, while trying to keep my eyes on the road, I couldn’t help but think of what heaven must be like. If this world has amazing splendor, I can’t imagine what splendor awaits us in heaven.
Until then, I will enjoy a moonlit night, the beauty of fall, and wait to see if the squirrels actually do know what is coming.