Amma's Absence

A year ago at this moment, Nancy and I were sitting in this room waiting for Katharine to arrive. The chemo schedule prevented us from being in Fulton for the birth. We were relieved when the delivery ended well that night. While we had missed that big event, we had every hope that we were just experiencing a temporary absence from family involvement, not the beginning of Nancy's final decline. How wrong we were.

Today is another bittersweet event. Katharine will never remember her Amma's gentle touch, loving voice or delightful smile. That seems a grievous wrong. But I am comforted this night to know that Nancy has substituted the quiet delight she always found in being with the kids for the unsurpassed joy of being with Jesus. I also trust that Amma's love flows into Katharine through the selfless devotion to motherhood that Leah absorbed from Mom. And I expect that Katharine's life will be further enriched through the mercies of the God who gives and takes away.

Missing Mom

Sometimes I wonder who faces the hardest road dealing with Nancy's homegoing. I lost part of my self, and that will always hurt. But Leah, Josh and KJ experienced grievous loss as well. I walked this earth for 20 years without her, but these guys never took a heartbeat apart from her until August 30. My kids were not expecting to lose Mom so soon.

They also deal with me without their Mom, which means redefining the terms of the other parent/child relationship. And I know it's not easy dealing with me, without Nancy as a buffer. Moms supply the relational glue for most families. Ours was no exception.

A funny thing about this impending six month mile post, I almost seem to have turned a corner, But, or maybe because, of that, each of the three kids have encountered a rough patch. That's often the way in families; we tag team. Taking turns, being weak and being strong.

I have been prayed through lots of steps on this valley: deep mourning, health scares, the pain of writing and remembering, of reentering the world alone. Now I want you to focus on the three heroes who helped me bring Nancy Home. May HE carry them through this vale of tears.

Rejoicing with Others and Running Along

As many of you know, I live in a fairly "dano-centric" universe. Although the line, "But enough about me. What do you think about me?" was not written for me, it fits me. In other words I tend to focus on how events impact ME.

So MY normal biopsy naturally led to a sigh of relief on my own behalf. But then the weirdest thing followed. Last night I found myself giving thanks for the blessing this news is to others. I was thankful that my children aren't encountering another parent with cancer. I gave thanks that many folks who prayed were encouraged to hear this answer. I rejoiced that my closest prayer partner in this journey had experienced the power of two agreeing together in Jesus' Name.

Somehow my immense relief brought this reminder: my life is meant to be a blessing to others. And then I recalled Paul's conclusion in Philippians 1 that if he lived it was for those he served. Yep, this "all clear" brings a mandate to love and bless those nearby.

Meanwhile. I got several comments and personal messages about my desire to run through the daisies. I think I found a field. Now if I can find my running shoes........

No Cancer

Okay, I called the doctor today to ask a question about some lingering issues related to last week's procedure. I was told,"Don't worry about your issue. By the way, the results are in. They are setting on the Dr. Meller's desk. "

One excorciating hour later, Kathy called back to say, "NORMAL."

I can't overstate the emotional impact of that result. The kids and I rejoiced and wept with relief when I shared the news with each of them. (I think KJ was weeping in her text.) For the first time in months I am actually starting to believe that there may be a future on this earth. I am thankful for this season of relative calm even while I remain on a "short leash." with a follow up visit in June. Pray that we can live for the day and trust HIM for the future.

Now, I am off to look for that field of daisies!

Friday Night Fights of Faith

Friday night with Tedster and the movie Apollo 13. The house is pretty silent and it is unlikely a party is going to break out. A bit mellow and bittersweet to be sure. But not entirely "empty."

I SIT HERE: Warmed by the love I saw between KJ and Leah this week. Amazed to see how much Jonah has grown. Glad that HE sustained me through a chapel talk in which I felt the tanks run dry five minutes before I sat down. Thankful HE showed up today and gave us some new ideas for a project that had stalled at work. Blessed by a friend who talks to me every night and then prays against the terror I feel while awaiting biopsy results.

Here in 319 it has felt like winter for years now. A long winter but no Christmas in this house has dragged on far too long. Still, Daylight Savings Time is only a week or so away, the first hint of spring. Could this be a season of health and new beginnings? Or another like the false spring of 2008? Tonight I long for fresh starts and all clears. For true spring. I can only lean on the goodness of the One who promises us The Ultimate Sign of Spring: The Resurrection.

Join me in praying for good news next week. I want to run through a few fields of daisies once the spring is under way. Aslan is on the Move. So, we can expect the flowers to bloom.

Post-bioposy briefing

This will be short. The procedure went well. Josh was great about taking me. I only passed out once in the hallway after getting up. Loss of consciousness is intriguing experience. Leah and KJ have loved on me well. Jonah and Kat have been here as pleasant blessings throughout this foggy day. We hope to have results by Monday.

Meanwhile, the fog needs to clear enough for me to speak at Westminster Seminar tomorrow. Ask HIM to give me clarity and conviction to tell the "Wheat Field Story" to a new generation.!

Prop Me Up

Reading through the Bible reminds me of reconnecting with old friends. Today I revisited the battle Israel fought against the Amalekites in Exodus 17. Remember the battle went well as long as Moses kept his arms raised to the Lord. But then his strength flagged. Aaron and Hur then gathered around him to keep his arms extended until the battle was won.

"Sounds great!" I decided this morning. I needed folks to come around me and hold my arms up as I face the biopsy on Wednesday and a chapel talk at Westminster Seminary on Thursday. Fortunately, our staff team gathered around me for prayer this morning. Meanwhile, another friend has prayed with me daily as I head into this test. In such moments my fear is replaced with another's faith. Such moments remind me that we don't fight alone. We are surrounded by the legions who also wander toward the Promised Land.

Let's Skip the Next Few Scenes

Recently a friend and I were trying to work through a thorny issue. We were at a painful and frightening place. "I wish God would just hit Fast Forward," my friend exclaimed. I got spiritual and replied that I was just glad that He wouldn't hit "rewind."

Clever? Maybe. But I am really the one who always gets impatient. As I face this next series of medical tests I want HIM to hit "Fast Forward." I also want to write the ending. The next scene would clearly conclude: "No Cancer."

I can neither control the pace of the next few days nor the outcome of Wednesday's biopsy. So, I rest on the One I know to be both Good and Wise. And I ask HIM to keep me patient and keep me well. How I wish I could take possession of the remote. But He loves me too much to let that happen.

Valentine's Day Lesson

The Day I Finally Got It

There was completeness to the ride Nancy and I took together. I can pinpoint most of the important landmarks along the path. You want to know the moment I most loved Nancy?
We were waiting for the ambulance to Keystone hospice. She was fading fast, experiencing more bouts of confusion, always restless. Suddenly, I couldn’t just sit there anymore. As a guy, as a desperate husband I had to find something to do, some way to help, something to ease her suffering, something that would take away some of her pain, while making me feel a bit less futile, a bit less helpless, a bit less impotent, a bit less useless.
Where could I find a weapon to attack my futility and her frailty? She could no longer feed herself. So, I went into the kitchen, opened the freezer and took out my weapon. She had been desperately sucking on cherry flavored junior ice pops throughout the last three weeks. Returning to the living room, I sat down next to her hospital bed and pressed the Popsicle to her lips. She was too weak to say “Thank you.” Those luminous blue eyes were too dim to flash a glint of appreciation. Wordlessly she started sucking on the frozen sugar and water. The only response came through the sound of her intense effort to sooth her parched lips. She was taking in the last sliver of nourishment she ever ingested in our home. It was heartbreaking to behold.
But in that moment, I realized that I could never love her more. She would give me nothing in return. There was no payback. No thought of a smile, no unspoken agreement of intimacy in exchange for a night out. Holding that stick as she nibbled away, I finally got it. Love was about serving a person unconditionally with no thought of self interest. The “reward” was in the act of caring for this beautiful woman who had given me her love, her kindness, her body, her smile and her faith for many years.
It’s Valentine’s Day. Today we celebrate love. We exchange cards, flowers, chocolates and kisses. Most of us hope to get a “return on these investments.” Today I remember the moment when I finally I got it. Love is about what I can give away. And my reward comes in knowing I no longer require anything in return.

Will I ever be willing to love like this again? The cry of my heart is, "Yep. I would like nothing better than the chance to hold another popsicle, no matter what its "flavor' or "shape "'. After all, there was never a moment that brought me closer to the love of God. I don't want my experience of this kind of love to remain mere memory.

So, join with me in this celebration.
Experience for yourself this sweet liberation.

Make sure that you read the cards, sample the chocolates, smell the roses, and taste the kisses. Then lean back and give it all away.

Thanks, Rocky, for giving me 34 years to figure this out.

Pleading but not Demanding

Just tonight a dear friend reminded me that we must hold all desires loosely. Even the desires we hold together. Even the dreams we pursue together. Whenever my expectation of a smooth life and "happiness" becomes an idol, my heart bleeds fear.

Another friend passed on this quote from a booklet of Advent meditations by Henri Nowen --
"Learn the discipline of being surprised not by suffering but by joy. As we grow old, there is suffering ahead of us, immense suffering, a suffering that will continue to tempt us to think that we have chosen the wrong road. But don't be surprised by pain. Be surprised by joy, be surprised by the little flower that shows its beauty in the midst of a barren desert, and be surprised by the immense healing power that keeps bursting forth like springs of fresh water from the depths of our pain.
"With a heart trusting that we will get what we need, and a spirit always surprised by joy, we will walk through this valley of darkness performing and witnessing miracles."

Can I Rest Along the Way?

As I go through yet another uncertain stretch in this journey, I am drawn again to struggle with my longing for clear definition. My Father has granted me few instances of clear sailing the last few years. He continues to say, "Walk with me. I know the way forward. You just lean back and let me drive." Trying to apply that lesson lead me to ponder this quote from "The Finishers Project." Continue to pray that I get the "all clear" on cancer this month. But join me in resting in HIS care as we continue the ride, and help me remember:

"Most of us tend to be time-oriented and linear in our thinking. We easily see things laid out on a timetable, moving from left to right. The left end is where we are currently and the right is where we want to be...our goal...the target. We also like to see the line as free from obstacles as possible. A clean, straight line means we will have an easier, faster time getting to our desired goal. Bumps, curves and barriers along the line are things to be removed and avoided in order to hit the target. The most important part is the goal at the end. This is what we desire and anything getting in the way is not desirable. This is common sense and easy to understand. We all accept it. We all endorse it. It's the way we were taught to look at our future and achieve our goals. There is another way. It tends to see the journey as just as important as the end. What might be seen as obstacles can be seen as benefits. They are actually helping to fulfill the goal, but because we are focused on our particular target, we do not see the connection between overcoming the obstacle and the goal it is trying to achieve. Sometimes we refer to this perspective as a "kingdom perspective." It is seeing God's goals for what he wants us to "be", not what we want to "do." God is always about the journey. Yes, the journey is going somewhere, but the getting there is what he uses..."

Building a Case for Health

This latest health scare has led me to do some pleading with the Father.


I am trying to avoid resigning myself to some sort of tragic outcome. I have been encouraged to steer clear of believing that "Murphy's Law" applies here.


So, today I started building this list of reasons I want to get the "all clear" and move on with life.

They include:

1. I don't want my kids to face the serious illness of another parent.


2. My grand kids could use an Ampa.


3. I have failed to "reproduce myself" in my current WHM position and I want to train a "recruiting Timothy."


4. I learned a lot on Dan and Nancy's journey that I want to impart to others.


5. I want to write The Book. (Maybe that is 4b....but it's my list)


6. I just want a break on this journey. A time to go to the Phillies games, sit on the sofa and eat popcorn while watching dumb movies and generally enjoy simple stuff.


7. I would love to help plant another church by walking alongside a gifted young leader.


8. New possibilities have been planted that I would love to harvest.

Okay, so it's not a top ten list. Pick two reasons of your own if you know me well enough. But it is part of the brief I am presenting to my Advocate before the Father. He has pleaded my case before, substituting His goodness for my guilt. I trust HIM to represent me well as this thing unfolds.

Another Biopsy Coming

This morning my doctor told me that my PSA score had not fallen enough to avoid another biopsy. "I am 90% sure that you are okay. But with this score, I have to do this. Sorry."

On the one hand, this means that we are going to proceed on an aggressive diagnostic path. On the other hand, I can't put the word "routine" in front of the word "biopsy" these days.

The test is set for Wednesday, February 18. Results should follow in a week or so.

I have been having some serious arguments with the Lord over this. After all, we have been through so much, learned so much and even begun to dream again about what a new chapter could look like. Now this.

Of course, this triggers a voice that reminds me that I want to write this book about seeing that God can sustain you when the thing you fear the most takes place. Then, a test score remains high and my worry meter goes off the chart. Okay, so I haven't perfectly learned those things. I am still learning the same lesson yet again: The only way to get through life is to trust HIM, not for the circumstances, but for the grace to take the next step. Lord, teach me yet again.

One more thing: This morning a friend challenged me not to try to be "strong" right now. Good advice. Let me admit it : Tonight I am weak, afraid, and uncomfortable. I need your prayers to keep me resting on HIM alone. Can you come along for the ride?

And while I was away.

I had a chance to unplug for a couple of days while attending a retreat for the elders of New Life Church. It was wonderful to step back, do some writing and reflect on new possibilities in a beautiful country setting. Not many specific plans emerged from that time, just many new hopes and dreams some reclaimed promises from HIS word like:

For with you is the fountain of life;

in your light we see light

Psalm 36:9

...and some fears

You see my doctor's appointment is tomorrow. (It was rescheduled by the doctor.) I will learn where I stand on a health issue that I have been dealing with since fall. Pray for me to rest on the Rock as I battle the uncertainty of life in this new chapter.

Intersecting Anniversaries

Anniversaries intersect often as you make this journey.

1. Earlier this week we remembered the sudden departure of Jessica a vibrate young WHM missionary who lost her life in a car accident while attending pre-field training in Colorado.
2. Two years ago tomorrow my friend and fellow elder Al went home after battling cancer.
3. A year ago tomorrow Nancy began chemo in the futile attempt to keep that Unwelcome Visitor at bay.

Remembering these dear ones stirs memories of loss and sadness, but also the strong and strange bonds forged by suffering.

1. Jess's mom Cindy remains one of my primary encouragers as I travel this path. Her comments and emails are drenched with compassionate understanding.
2. Al's daughter Becky has worked with me at WHM throughout Nancy's sharp descent and homegoing. She is someone who gets it; she totally understands what the journey is like. And she has remained a good buddy who frequently shares laughter, memories, shuffleboard, prayer and tears.

I hate the losses the three of us have borne, I rage against the pain we share, I long for the final victory over death itself.

And I rejoice in our companionship in sorrow and hope, knowing that the pain of this week will soon be erased by the Day of HIS Return!

Slinging the Seed, Seeing the Spouts

Seed sowing is interesting. You really don't know what's going to happen because it is up to God. You sling it out there and you see what grows.

This afternoon I picked up the phone to find Sarah telling me, "I felt moved to call you. Somehow either my husband or I signed up for your prayer letter. It has encouraged us. We keep thinking about missions and decided we should give you a call to see if WHM would be a good fit for us."

It seems that when I spoke to a class at Lancaster Bible College six years ago her husband Michael signed up for my prayer letter. Nothing special seemed to happen that day. It was a long drive to cover an early class populated by young folks just beginning to dream the dream. Six years later the phone rang.

I don't know what will happen with these guys. They may never be led to join us or someday they may lead a team to Pakistan. But today I was encouraged. Tonight I am reminded that sowing the seeds of Kingdom vision is always a worthwhile task.

Leaning and Learning

I used to be afraid to be around suffering folks. Scared that I wouldn't know what to do or say. That it it took some special knowledge, special grace, special wisdom to walk that close to pain. Well, it is good it is good to know what what to say, what to do, what to try, what not do, say or try. You can learn a little of that stuff with experience. But to move toward suffering takes nothing more than leaning that way.

Just this weekend, I was with two people I hold very dear. Each of them has given me more than I could ever say. Each of them face a unique hurt. But I have been near their kind of deep pain before. And I found HIS presence, HIS comfort, HIS courage, and HIS compassion each step along the way. So, tonight I promise that I will stay with both of these friends simply to remind them that our Suffering Savior walks with us, and by his stripes they will be healed. Leaning toward their sorrow, I will find comfort for my own.