March 8, 2023

       I started today’s blog while sitting in the waiting room after the radiation treatment and prior to an appointment with the radiation oncologist.  There’s maybe 25 or so people in the room.  Some are headed to their treatment through the door to the left and others to see a doctor.  You guessed it, through the door to the right.
       My heart has grown heavy as I have sat here for about 40 minutes waiting for my appointment time.  I have watched as folks have been called back for their treatments.  A guy in his 50s, a young girl maybe 30.   A teenager is in a wheelchair is sitting pretty close to me.  He’s wearing a ballcap indoors.  I know what that means.  It’s actually one of those reclining wheelchairs.  I didn’t see him raise his head while he sat close to me.
       What would you think sitting in a radiation waiting room does?  Two main things.  It let’s you know that at least on the surface, there are others who are far worse off than you are.  Maybe by the end of next week I will look as forlorn as many people did today.  With two treatments down and three to go, I am not anticipating that.
       Sitting here does something else.  It revs up my prayer life.  Not for me, but for many of those people who got up and headed to the left door.  I knew every one of them had cancer.  I prayed for many of them as their names were called and they headed off for treatment.
       I preached Sunday on the Heart of God.  I got just a small glimpse of His heart as my heart was broken for these folks dealing with cancer.  I felt that God’s heart must be breaking, too.  The Fall brought sin, disease, and death into this world.  That’s not what God had in mind.  Tore nailed it in her devotion in our Lenten Prayer Booklets this week when she said there’s coming a day when there will be no more tears, or mourning, or pain.
       In a sense what the future holds for us will be a renewal of what life was like in the Paradise of Eden.  Jesus did say to the penitent thief on a cross next to Him, “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.” 
       Treatment wise I am two down with three to go.  The treatments themselves are more than tolerable if you can remain still for half an hour.  It’s the side effects that are much harder.
       I am still waiting to hear from the hematologist.  I will be more than surprised if we get the bone scan and results before I leave next Thursday.  It is still a matter of prayer.
       No one rang the bell today.
       When I went through radiation on my leg, there were two white boards hanging on the wall in the hallway near the R desk.  Yes, Radiation Desk. People who had gone through radiation and returned for a follow up might write their first names, often their age, and how long it had been since they were diagnosed with cancer.
       You couldn’t help but be moved by what people had written.  You’d read things like: John, 50, 3 years, 2 months.  Shirley, 34, 6 years, 4 months.   Some people would get specific, letting you know that every day was a gift.  Harry, 26, 4 years, 3 months, 2 weeks, 3 days.
       Then you’d see the heartbreaker.  Susie, 9, 6 months, 4 days, 7 hours.
       I stood at that board a number of times reading the names.  They were names that brought hope.  Hope in part because of the treatment and hope that only comes out of our relationship with Jesus.
       Those two boards are no longer in the hallway.  It was one of the first questions I asked.  I thought maybe Chuck, 68, 22 years, 6 months might bring some hope to someone.
       Maybe that hope will just have to come through a blog or some other plan of God.
       Thanks for your prayers and encouragement.