Losing a Limb and Learning to Walk

Five months ago yesterday Nancy went home. Although we knew she was dying, the final breath still came as a shock. That is why the hospice nurse had to tell me three times she was gone before I could believe her.

When I lost Nancy I lost a piece of my self. After all we had become one flesh. Maybe my right leg, because it felt like I could hardly walk any more. Death separated us swiftly, like the chop of a guillotine. She was there, then gone. But in another sense the chopping continued. Each day seemed to bring another painful cut as we planned the service, stood at the graveside, said good bye to family, walked around a silent, sad and empty house. Even the last few days the axe struck again, as I got her name off the Honda title, and saw Real Simple magazine arrive with "Last Issue" overlaying its cover.

Then there are the "phantom pains". I find myself explaining something to her when times are tough, or mistaking my coworker Ginny B for her when I come around the corner at work. I guess it takes a long time to realize that a part of your self is gone.

But slowly life returns. Maybe that piece of yourself can be restored or at least replaced. You wake up to new days, you find new purpose, you meet new people, you explore new possibilities. All this while the old stories, the old friends, the old memories remind you that the journey is worth the pain that you feel. As a farm boy I was recently reminded that the barrenness of winter is always followed by spring's renewal. So, I go on, learning to walk without the departed piece of me. I don't even mind the limp, cause limping reminds me that my best buddy made it home, and if I keep hobbling toward HIM so will I.

Renewed by the Old Stories

My kids are always encouraging me in this journey. A few weeks ago Josh mentioned that he was planning to read the Bible all the way through this year. It had been a while since I took this on. The sufferings of the last couple of years had left me clinging to the Psalms, snatches of the gospels and not much else. I sensed the need to soak myself in large chunks of truth, to get the "Big Picture."

So, I decided to go for it. I began the plan I have used before. It moves you through three different sections of Scripture each day. Reading this much Scripture, I am often just skimming the surface. But I reconnect with familiar Tales of Truth. I am reminded that God moves into the lives of flawed people like the "Patriarchs of the Old Testament," that Jesus spoke to us in simple stories, that the Psalms are anthems of love and dirges of sorrow. And I recapture the wonder of this God of power, purpose and patience, The One who faithfully carries us through every stretch of our journey with Him.

Movies, Mutts and Musings

I have to warn you. There is a dangerous movie out there. Oh, you think it is going to be pleasant and cute; but watch out! It’s a trap. A friend and I ducked in to see Marley and Me Sunday afternoon. We were looking for some lighthearted entertainment. After all, I decided, each of us has experienced enough drama, let’s just do something mindless. In spite of the neurotic behavior of "The Tedster," I do have a soft spot in my heart for dogs.

It started out lighthearted and fun, as the dog romped on the beach, ate Jennifer Aniston’s necklace and tore up Owen Wilson’s sofa. We were cheerfully forgetting our troubles when Marley suddenly got sick. Then I watched a faithful companion grow too weak to walk, reach the point where treatment was no longer viable and then this dear friend died. Well, somewhere during the death scene I lost it. I returned to the memories of sudden illness, chemo, and hospice. No amount of “fake coughing” could conceal my sobs. It was a bit awkward to be sure.

But after we left the theatre I found myself saying, “My story is better.” I hadn’t experienced the loss of a canine at the end of two hours of entertainment. I was remembering a lifetime of laughs, hopes and sorrows. Today my hope is not in a trip to a pet store to purchase a new puppy, but in the resurrection. And in the confidence that the way we learned to love can yet enrich the lives of others.

Continuing the Love Story

I spent some time the last day or so thinking about the book I would love to develop from the story told here as Dan and Nancy's Journey. Is it a story about cancer? A tale of death? A diary of losing a spouse and soldiering on? An anthem to the "human spirit?" Well, NO.

It is a love story. A tale with two parts. Nancy and I did love one another. That is why she put up with me for over three decades. And she was my best friend, so there was no chance I was going to leave that room while she waited for HIM to call her home. But there is more. It is the story of HIS love for two flawed, broken and imperfect beings. Much of that love flowed to us through our family and friends as we took this deep walk through the valley of death. I like to think that the love for and through one another still splashes on to folks I meet along the road.

Love, all love is marvelous. But only HIS divine love sustains you through the challenges of growing up together, the boredom that seeps in from time to time, and the devastation of a raging disease. How to keep that love alive? I just came across Oswald Chambers' comments on on the passage in Jude where it says "keep yourselves in the love of god".

Chambers said"Begin to trace the finger of God and the love of God in the great calamities of earth, and in the calamities that have befallen you. In sweat of brain and spirit, work, agonize at times, to keep yourself in the love of God. It is our wisdom, our happiness, our security to keep ourselves in the love of God. How do I keep myself in any sphere but by using every means to abide in it? If I wish to keep in the spiritual sphere of the love of God I must use the great organ of the spiritual realm, faith. "God loves me" - say it over and over and over, heedless of your feelings that come and go. Do not live at a distance from God, live near Him, delighting yourselves in Him. Remove all barriers of selfishness and fear, and plunge into the fathomless love of God. "Keep yourselves in the love of God," not "keep on loving God." None can do that. When once you have understood the truth about your own heart's sinfulness, think not again of it, but look at the great, vast, unlimited magnificence of the love of God. Oh may we be driven, driven further and further out into the ocean fullness of the love of God only taking care that nothing entices us out again."

In HIM

There is an old expression that could be applied to my current situation. Since Nancy went Home less than a year ago, I could be said to be, "in mourning." An outmoded phrase perhaps, yet it is quite descriptive.


When Nancy first left us, I kept waiting unconsciously for her to come downstairs each morning. I was "in denial."

When I went to Ocean City last fall, I sat and wrote for hours, the words that filled my red notebook were written with ink, co mingled with tears. Clearly I was "in pain."

I am feeling less sorrowful these days. It could be said that I am "in recovery."

It would be easy to define myself by such phrases. After all, grief is a tumultuous process. But it would be dangerous. All these terms merely describe my fragile emotional state. They are transient conditions, as changeable as the weather on a blustery March day in Dublin.

But one of the applicants to our summer internship program reminded me that there is a more stable state in which to dwell. Ephesians 1 reminds us that HE choose us in HIM before the foundations of the world. The passage explains that as a follower, I am in HIM. In Christ, what a safe place to be, what a secure identity, what a solid foundation as I walk this steep and twisting path on the way out of the valley of grief.

Another Day at the Office

One of the more humbling and awesome things about working for an international Christian ministry is that I get paid to pray during my work week. Each day we have designated prayer time to intercede on behalf of our missionaries and friends around the world. Then, once or twice a year, we close operations down and invest a whole day of staff time in worship, prayer and sharing. Yesterday was one of those days. Don't misunderstand. It's not 8 straight hours of spontaneous spiritual ecstasy. It takes a fair amount of planning to lay out a schedule, and gather requests from around the world. Sometimes we probably just talk when we should pray. By about 2.30, I found myself getting drowsy.

But there are glimpses of the Father's Heart and Mind that make the day sing. Times when you find yourself weeping for a co-worker halfway around the world. Times when the requests about fundraising goals and office software issues provide a platform for crying out for the Kingdom to come. And for a few brief moments you remember that prayer is not just part of the work, it is the work. And I hear myself wondering, "They actually pay me to do this stuff?"

Murphy's Law

This road contains some unexpected potholes. Take the one I hit early this week. I had enjoyed a great weekend with family and friends. Things were looking more focused at work. Life seemed to be opening up again.



Then it happened. I was filled with an inexplicable panic. I found myself wondering what was about to go wrong. You see, each time over the last few years that life calmed down, another storm hit. I found myself expecting another brick to fall out of the sky and hit me on the head. Though I haven't read about this phenomenon, I suspect that this kind of panic abounds among spousal survivors. We struggle to believe another disaster is not around the corner.

Only lots of gospel conversation with myself and the prayers of friends have controlled this bushfire of panic. By the way, the panic was triggered by the reminder that my follow up doctor's appointment is set for one month from today: February 20 Pray for the panic to subside, love to abound and faith to direct my steps.

Listening to the Living

I most often experience the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living through people. Just this past week:

• I listened to Leah describe her chance encounter with the Norte Dame basketball team in a hotel elevator and I enjoyed the passion she carries through life.
• I watched KJ sing "Happy Birthday" to a child in Elcy's Cafe and I smiled at how great she is with kids.
• I watched a documentary on racial injustice and wept with pride over the work Josh is doing in North Philadelphia.
• I talked to a couple preparing to serve as missionaries and felt their joy that a childhood dream is about to be fulfilled.
• I shared a burger with an old friend who reminded me how much God loves to create and I gave thanks for years of his loyal concern.
• I sat speechless (how rare is that?) in the face of a new friend's candor and vulnerability remembering that trust is one of the greatest gifts we can offer one another.
• I talked strategy with a number of WHM colleagues and renewed my desire to pursue the Grand Cause with these folks for as long as I have strength.

The goodness of the Lord was given to me through the thoughts, words and laughter of those being made new in HIM. My life so often overflows with this bounty because HE stands outside the tomb, and shouts "come out." And lots of newly risen friends answer back, "Here I come."

Mapquest

Tonight I was thinking about what it means to dream again. What does it mean to stand at this strange intersection of my life and ask the questions I have asked dozens of times as a mobilizer.

• What would you try to do if you didn't fear failure?
• What evokes your passion?
• Where do you "feel God's pleasure" in the course of a day?
• What do others say you do well?

What prompts these questions just now? Is it a desire to escape the pain of the valley of grief? Perhaps. But more likely it's the growing realization that I will never move out of this valley without some clear idea what lies beyond.

"I am confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living"

--Psalm 27:13--

Sickness, Sadness, and Resurrection Hope

It's funny how each time I experience something for the first time without Nancy it provokes a new set of memories and a different session of grieving. Yesterday I awoke with a serious case of stomach flu. I was on my back all day. This was my first "bug" since she went home.

And so memories came, of the good care she extended to me through my appendectomy in Ireland, gall bladder surgery in Philly, and numerous bouts of the flu or sinusitis. And then I remember her intense physical battle in this same house only a few months back.

Those are not easy moments. The pain of our parting once more rushes over me. But I can find gratitude in knowing a faithful care giver's love, and joy in believing that her physical discomfort has ceased. Neither flu virus, nor cancer cells will triumph, for HE is risen!

Grace to Resume the Journey

I have been on Sabbatical as an elder since March. That hiatus intensified as Nancy's summer journey intensified. I even stepped back from my favorite duty which is helping serve communion. I felt I needed to receive the elements, not help distribute them.

But today, when my friend Marc called the elders forward for his first communion as an ordained pastor, I just had to come up. After all, we had walked some important steps together, and I didn't want to miss being at his side. But there was more. I was ready to "tell the church" that the sorrow is beginning to fade. I want to become more than a gloomy shadow.

There were some dicey moments. I thought about the eternal issues in the work of Christ. I thought of how Nancy's casket had rested only a few feet away from where I sat after distributing the elements I remembered the day a couple of years ago when I served communion with Al on my left, and Roger on my right, and heard the words, "remission of sins" with new force. Both Al and Roger were suffering from cancer by then. And a few months later Al experienced the ultimate remission when Jesus took him home. It was all I could do to hold back the tears.

Roger still continues his earthly journey. Last night was rough for him, so Marc and I brought communion to Roger and Karen's house this afternoon. As I shared how Marc's sermon had reminded me that it takes a certain desperation to come to Christ I was moved to thank God for the gentle ways that He had driven each of us to Jesus. Roger and Karen completely understood.

And once more, I reflect on this miracle. This past year's journey has left me seeing the kindness of God when I was confronted with my greatest fears. A year ago, I could not have imagined that I could sit there with my very sick friend, reflecting on my wife's death, and my widowhood and speak of the gentle kindness of God---and mean it. How can this be? Somehow HE gives us grace for the journey.

The End of the Beginning

As the World War II battle for North Africa drew to an end, Winston Churchill announced, "This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end, but it is perhaps the end of the beginning." He was right. There were still years of fighting yet to be done. Many terrible battles were later fought in Italy, France and Germany, but at least the Nazis were on the run.

That describes the place I find myself on this valley road. I am nowhere near the end of this trek, but I can perhaps see the intense early mourning is subsiding. There is one indicator that this might be so: I find myself thinking more about the present task at hand, and future possibilities, and less about past sorrows.

This new openness that there might be something to come...even this side of glory might just mean "The End of the Beginning."

Amazed by His Kindness

I am sometimes awed by how much kindness I have felt the past year. So often a hand is reached out to me when I am in agony and despair. Often that hand has been at the end of a limb of a person who themselves has suffered great pain. The fellowship of his suffering spoken of in Philippians 3:10 includes those who experience disappointment, disease and the a loved one's death. And that kind of fellowship with a fellow sufferer is deep and gentle and loving. My friend who recently pointed me to Psalm 27 knows a sorrow that no one should bear. But that suffering brought a calming spirit to me this week. As an added gift, that passage also reassured another who travels this valley of tears.

How odd it was this morning to realize that God had "given me" that verse the day before Nancy died as we waited with torn hearts for her to stop suffering, for her to go Home, for us to lose her gentle presence in our lives. What a symmetrical path His Word takes in our lives.

So tonight, I am amazed by the severe grace of mourning the sadness even as I experience the blessings he still will offer. That is what it has meant to fight and to wait this day.

Should I Fight or Should I Wait? YES!!

2008 was a year of painful waiting. I was so moved by all the waiting surrounding Nancy's illness and death that my September 12 posting was a poetic attempt to process that part of the journey. Even as I tried to return to work and normal life, I was waiting for the first holdidays without Nancy and for the calendar to turn over to a new year.

I am determined that 2009 will end some of the waiting. I particularly want to reverse the habit of lingering, nervously waiting for things to play out. I just can't sit around the house listlessly waiting for time to pass.

So, that is why the announcement of a new year felt like a call to battle for me. After all, my son Josh often reminds folks that "the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing and forceful men lay hold of it" (Luke 11:12b) It will take some force to move back into the flow, make hard decisions and to forge new partnerships and patterns of living.

But then a dear friend wisely reminded me the battle of 2009 will include some waiting, the kind of waiting described in Psalm 27:14 where His Word encourages us to "wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart, and wait for the Lord." So, this battle to write a new chapter can only be fought with his strength and courage, according to his time table.

Isn't this always a tension in the life of HIS followers? We are engaged in cosmic battle according to Ephesians 6. But we wait on the Lord to renew our strength according to Isaiah 40. Only His Spirit can help us balance that as we follow HIM. So, ask HIM to make me both a strong warrior and a patient waiter as I move through this year.

Celebrating a Fellow Pilgrim

We first moved to Ireland in 1983. Back in those pre-Internet days, it was hard to get news from the USA. A high school student named Marc stepped into the breach, sending us box scores from home from time to time.

Later we followed Marc as he moved into student ministry for several years. Then after we had returned home he and as his wife Susan moved to Philadelphia so that Marc could attend Westminster Seminary. During those years we would up in the same small group together. I remember that Marc reached out to Nancy several times during the time when she found being in any group situation very difficult. Marc helped make Nancy feel safe.

But, for some reason after graduation Marc went through several wilderness years where he could not seem to find a position in vocational ministry. Eventually, Marc and I served on important committee which helped clarify the leadership direction of New Life Church. We were thrilled when Marc was later added to the staff of the church after that.

In his capacity as shepherding pastor at New Life, Marc sat with the kids and me as we waited through Nancy's December 26 surgery. Then on August 30 he was in the room with us when Nancy drew her last breath.

Tonight, I was asked to participate in Marc's formal ordination as a pastor. It was an honor to read the opening scripture and offer a prayer. Through bittersweet tears I joined in the singing "Blessed Be Your Name" which had also been sang at Nancy's funeral. Later, on I was one of the elders who offered the "right hand of fellowship" to him after the laying on of hands marking his ordination. In that moment I told him both his mom (who went home in 2003) and Nancy were both proud of him.

Tonight I celebrate the long, faithful partnership of Marc and Susan Davis as we walk together behind the King!

The Dance Card Down Here

I began the year with the image of Nancy celebrating before her Savior while I am determined to continue dancing down here. So, what might that look like in 2009?

A familiar passage came to mind as the year began. In Joel 2.25 God promises, "I will make up to you for the years the swarming locust has eaten." In one sense we helped Nancy reap the sweet harvest of her homegoing, but there have several years in which many dreams were swallowed up. I am trusting that God will grant a season of fruitbearing in some other fields.

At World Harvest. I will continuing to mobilize the next generation, traveling a bit again, and doing some long-delayed fund raisng.

Here on Easton Road. I continue working on the routine of doing life without Nancy's helpful presence. It is also time to deal with some neglected projects around the house. During the year I will be praying about whether I want to continue living in the place so full of Nancy's influence, rent it out, sell it or...whatever.

With the writing project. I do want to see if a book is rattling around somewhere inside this computer. I need the proper time spot and a safe place to work on the revisions.

At New Life Church. I actually began a scheduled sabbatical as an elder last March and I am pondering what role I am am meant to play in the life of the congregation as the year rolls along.


Reconfiguring my social and relational life. Most who know the story, know that my relational world has shrunk over the last few years. While my years on the farm have left me with appreciation for solitude, I am also fairly addicted to bursts of intense human interaction. Seriously, I know that I will never escape the valley of grief by myself. So, what does that mean? In 2009 I must resolutely move toward people, and trust HIM for the emotional energy that requires.

Finally, there is my close buddy and current housemate KJ. She laid down her life to care for her mom last year. But I don't believe she is being called to "take care of Dad" here in Glenside for the next five years. Ask HIM to show her what HE has for her in this new year.

The Dance Goes On!

The Mummers Parade. It's a Philadelphia thing. If you are not from here, if you're not born here, you just don't get it. What's the deal with a bunch of adults donning garish costumes and "strutting" their way around town? Yeah, it's weird, but it does constitute a legitimate way to celebrate the landmark event of a new year. Nevertheless, dancing in public takes a kind of outlandish courage.

Nancy became a legend in World Harvest during our 2006 Greece Conference. After the program each evening we would gather in a recreation spot. The area included a little dance area complete with DJ and pathetic rotating disco ball. The first night I was sitting at a table chewing the fat with some of the other guys. Suddenly this radiant woman appeared before me and demanded, "Come on, let's dance!" My request that she give me a moment to finish my beverage was quickly swept aside as she downed the contents of the glass. Quickly. A second later, we glided out on the dance floor and spent every evening that week cutting up in front of the entire mission.

Everybody enjoyed watching Nancy living it up in Greece, but nobody else could appreciate what unfolded as much as I did. For many years she was unwilling to get on a dance floor. Certain kinds of public attention terrified her. So, we more or less avoided those situations. That week in Greece she was telling "our missionary order" that Christ had transformed her into a carefree girl who was ready to dance with her groom. And her performance gladdened the hearts of all who watched! She was a vision of joy, this middle aged grandma with the flaming red hair and impish grin.

So, how does that freedom and joy play out now that she is celebrating a new year with Jesus?
During those hard days she lingered at Keystone House I drove back and forth listening again and again to the song, "Imagine." The chorus asks:

Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you, Jesus? Or in awe of you be still?
Will I stand in your presence, or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing “Hallelujah!”? Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine.
I can only imagine.

Those words sustained me as I assured myself that she "would have the answers real soon." She does, but if she had a choice, I think she choose to dance with her Bridegroom.

Rock on, Lady! I will dance here for now.