My part in His story

Let me suggest another way of phrasing it: “Oh, just settling.”

Why settle? Why just “get by”? Why not go for it, everyday, even if others around you are comfortable with settling. Even if you “going for it” makes them uncomfortable. It’s a choice we all make, each day.

…How are you?

“If what you heard from the beginning lives deeply in you, you will live deeply in both Son and Father. This is exactly what Christ promised: eternal life, real life.” (emphasis added)

Do I live deeply, really deeply? Sure I spend time in prayer with God every morning- reading, seeking him. I am sure of Christ. He paved the way to connect me with God and led his life in a way that shows me how to live mine.

… but have I really been living it deeply? I know there are deep moments, but eternal life isn’t just a moment. If I’m asking, then probably not as deeply as I would like to think.

Good friends.  Hard to come by.  Good friends.  There for you – trustworthy.  Good friends…

I had just been cleared to be around large groups of people again by the doctor, so medically, I was able to be there. Spiritually and mentally I wasn’t too sure about it.

I was at ease playing guitar, but singing, by myself? When we traveled I would lead by myself, singing and playing, from time to time, but not on a regular basis. I was honored to be asked, but was I comfortable doing this by myself – with no band?

 
The answer was a resounding no… but surprisingly, I didn’t give that as my response. I told my friend yes.

Now, I was seeing a little more clearly. The lungs that had been covered with tumors – that God had cleansed and restored – were available to sing for His glory. The lungs I was hesitant to use before because I was scared, had been saved – for a purpose – and I wasn’t about to give up hope now.

The peace God had covered me with was not just for me to make it. The strength He had given me had not just been to get me through the process. The reason He restored my body was for me to live – really live. Here. Now.

The realization was amazing, I saw a part of His plan for my life and the next step.

 
Over the next few months as my hair began to regrow, I started working with the youth group in my friend’s church. After a while a few students expressed interest in playing or singing with me. God was using me to give others an opportunity to grow their gifts. It was a great time and the beginning of a new part of my life.

In addition to that, a friendship that had been lost for some time was renewed. Through another friend, I connected with a new group of friends that really surrounded me and helped me to heal.

Looking back, there was one important relationship I wish had been restored. Someone I loved very dearly. I wish I could have seen it then.

Nonetheless, God was gracious to me, and continues to be to this day. I give Him my thanks, my praise for His amazing love and for new life. He restored my spirit long before sickness tried to consume my body – and when it did, He didn’t stop with my spirit, He healed my body too.

 
The doctors to this day say that it had to be God. I was a goner – dead man walking… but God…

< Part 6

 
The really amazing thing, the thing that really makes this a God-story, is that I never stayed a night in the hospital through this entire process. Others with the same type of cancer who were diagnosed at lower stages were laid-up in the hospital. The doctors said the chemo would make me very sick and extremely weak, after all, it was poison they were using to kill the cancer. Yes, I lost my hair, but the prognosis the doctors gave, never came true.

 
My body didn’t get weak or sick. I started eating like a horse and following a healthier diet that an Amish man had given me. We had heard that he had Godly wisdom about sickness and disease so we wrote him about my condition asking for his help. He replied a short time later with a list of what-to and what-not-to eat specific to this type of disease.

Some days, after getting out of 7 or 8 hours of chemo, I even had time to do some freelance work. I couldn’t be around large groups of people, because of my low white blood cell count, but through it all I was able to move around, get out and drive on my own. Just weeks before the doctors had shaken their heads and said I was almost dead.

 
Even though I wasn’t laid up in a hospital bed in a room by myself, this was one of the loneliest times in my life.

All of my friends and family were there in the beginning, surrounding me with their support. My mom would have been there the entire time, supporting me all the way, but every time I turned around she was just starring at me, which weirded me out a little (love you mom ). A few of my friends even came with me to sit through part of a session of chemo when I started. One friend ran a marathon on my behalf and collected pledges to donate to a cancer research organization. I was honored, grateful and encouraged.

As the weeks and months went on, the crowds dwindled, and got back to the busyness of life.

 
So there I was, in Fall again, the time when my story seemed to be shaken up. I would like to say that I had great revelations of my purposes in life, that everything came into focus. Yes, God had given me unbelievable peace and I knew I was in his hand, but the big realizations didn’t come until afterward.

Maybe the time by myself was what I needed, to think and pray – to be ready for what lay ahead. A chance to slow down and rest.

While I feel now that I should have seen it then, I didn’t. In the midst of it, before the clouds cleared, and the new dawn came into view, I felt very, very alone…

< Part 5 | Part 7 >

“In simple humility, let our gardener, God, landscape you with the Word, making a salvation-garden of your life.”

I’ve read a different translation of this passage before, but this said it in a way that really connected with me.

C.S. Lewis, in his fictional book The Great Divorce, describes a picture of the afterlife. One individual who has arrived in heaven is able to look back on their entire life and instead of seeing the bad times as such, sees everything that was redeemed. They don’t deny them but see those times in the same light as the good, because they were all part of a life that has climaxed to where they now stand.

“You see those tomatoes over there? They were rotting. Now look at them, ripe, healthy and red! The squash over there, it was withered and almost dead. Today, I can’t say I’ve ever seen it as vibrant and nourished!!”

A salvation-garden? of my life? Count me in.

His glory. Come down. Sent to us.

I remember God mentioning something about His glory. Coming down… yes there was something about that too. Didn’t… Jesus fulfill that? God’s glory coming down to us?

So why ask God to do it again? Didn’t he do everything He said He would? He sent His best representation to us, Jesus, His son. Should he need to do it again?

Now his Spirit, yeah, I’m always in need of his Spirit.

After a call to my oncologist and another look at my chart they decided the stress of the past few weeks had culminated in a nervous break down. He placed a paper bag over my mouth and asked me to breathe and relax. My neck was still spasming and I wasn’t able to hold still. So they gave me a muscle relaxer and after that took effect, sent me home with instructions to not get excited and remain calm. I was exhausted and had no problem with that – as soon as we got home I crashed into bed.

 
Thursday, I was sitting at the kitchen table after a full day of chemo when my neck started to tense up again. I wasn’t excited – but figured I would go up stairs and sleep it off. I was upstairs for no more than 5 minutes when things started to get worse. My shoulders, neck and face started to tense up. The muscles began to spasm and this time my lower jaw joined in. As I tried to lean against the wall to get down the stairs, I started calling out for help, as best I could. A dear friend who had just driven up outside rushed me to the ER.

By the time I arrived, the muscles from my shoulders up were in convulsions. They rushed me in to see a doctor and made a call to my oncologist who came right down. While we waited for the doctor to arrive the only relief I had was to jump up and down. The brief sense of weightlessness on the way down, seemed to relax the muscles a bit. After a few minutes of jumping up and down in place I started getting dizzy. The pain was so severe if just stood still – I couldn’t stop jumping – at least it eased the convulsions a little. So a friend of mine stood in front of me with his arm held out so that I could hold on to him while I jumped.

 
When my doctor arrived with his head nurse and they figured out that I was having a severe allergic reaction to the anti-nausea medicine I was taking. Tuesday had been just a precursor since the drug hadn’t built up in my system yet. Thursday was the full blown deal.

At one time or another we’ve all read the directions and warnings for a medicine we were taking. They start off with “may cause dizziness, headaches, upset stomach…” then mention the effects that “just a few in some studies” experienced. Well, I was one of those few.

The muscles in my upper body had convulsed so severely, that there were visible signs left after they gave me a good-sized dose of muscle relaxer. I remember the look of distress on their faces as they inspected me after the drugs kicked in. My mouth had riped itself to shreds. My tongue had stretched itself farther out of my mouth that it should have and the inner walls of my cheeks were white, caused by the muscles in my mouth pulling in different directions. My friend’s arms that braced me while I jumped up and down had puncture marks from my nails where I had held on.

I was exhausted – my body felt a great sense of relief when the medicine kicked in, and my equilibrium was thankful too.

Both drained from the experience, we headed home…

< Part 4 | Part 6 >

The weekend was a blur. Saturday my parents drove back home so my step-dad could get to work on Monday. My Mom and sister returned Sunday to be with me for the first week of chemo.

 
Monday morning we arrived and started the pre-op process again. This time they would only use a local anesthetic so I’d be awake the entire time.

They started out by cutting a small incision and inserting a camera into my chest so they could see where to attach the port inside. There was a sheet hanging down just below my neck, to prevent me from viewing the carving taking place on my chest. After they got the camera in, they turned a monitor that was hanging from the ceiling so that I could see. I was looking inside my chest.

They made another incision and inserted the port access just beneath the skin. I watched them connect the tubes inside me from the port access to my heart. Then they pulled the camera out and sewed me up.

As soon as they were done I was whisked away for the start of the first round of chemo.

 
Normally, if anything with cancer can be normal, the course of treatment would consist of three rounds using three drugs. Each round would last 3 weeks and then a week of rest before starting the next round.

The oncologist scheduled me for 6 rounds – double the normal. On top of that, he decided to give me double the dosage. One of the nurses commented to my parents that they had never pushed that much through someone’s heart before.

 
Each day that week I came in for 6 to 8 hours of chemo. The only adverse effect I had was a little nausea which they gave me medication for – that seemed to help. My mom and sister left that weekend to go home so the following week I would go to chemo alone.

The next week was more of the same. Each day I went in and sat while they pumped the drugs into me. I was 21 at the time so they didn’t put me in with other kids who had cancer. Instead, they put me in the same area where everyone in their 50′s and up went. There was a room lined with chairs and machines to monitor dosages. At one end was a TV in the corner that everyone sat and watched as their got their treatments.

The nurses were awesome – they set me up in my own room. Some days I would sleep, some days I would read and some days I would stare into space and think or just daze.

 
Tuesday of the second week my neck began to twitch and it became very difficult to breathe. So the friend I was staying with rushed me to the emergency room…

< Part 3 | Part 5 >