Happy New Year!
I've never made any resolutions for the new year. I've always thought it a little weird to use an arbitrary date on a calendar to make changes in my life. That and I've probably never spent enough time reflecting and thinking about changes I may need to make. But this year I'm going to give it a go. Without further ado, I resolve to:
- Be more friendly, loving, and gracious. I've learned this past year that you never know what someone might be going through. Any interaction with anyone could be a chance to brighten their day, to share God's love, to brighten what could be a dark time for them. Christina and I have been blessed many times this past year by simple gestures of kindness, even from complete strangers. I hope to pass that on this year.
- Enjoy every moment for what it's worth. You truly never know what the future holds, and how much more time you have left. I want to enjoy every moment like it's the last one I have, and I want to be more present and invested in the time I have and the people I'm with.
- Gain weight. I hear it's normal in American culture to have a resolution regarding weight. So, I'm going to try to gain weight and get in shape. I'm planning on eating and exercising a lot. Obviously this resolution is conditional upon my health; if I have to go back into treatment for cancer then I don't see myself gaining weight, but I will still try.
- Finish at least one book, hopefully two. I have a few projects going on (see the "book announcements" section on this blog), but my main project is a follow-up series to the Tamyth Trilogy. The quickest way to describe it is to say it's sort of what 'The Lord of the Rings' is to 'The Hobbit'. I'm about halfway done with the first book, and hope to finish it and pursue a traditional course of publishing for it. Anyone know any literary agents? :)
- Love God and my neighbor better. These are the two essential teachings of my religion, and two mandates at which I fail daily. This is not so much a resolution for the year but one I need to make every day, and reflect upon regularly.
There are probably other resolutions I need to make (such as see 'The Force Awakens' at least three more times) but this short list will have to suffice for now.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Sunday, December 20, 2015
December 20th, 2015
Tomorrow I'll be in New York City for an ultrasound of my stomach. The last set of scans came back somewhat inconclusive, and it seems I have a buildup of fluid in my abdomen. We'll know more tomorrow, but the plan is to drain it, a simple procedure compared to everything else I've had done. The scans also highlighted two spots of interest, both at the bottom of my lungs, likely inflammation from radiation, but we won't know with much certainty until I have more scans in a month. For now, we continue to live scan-to-scan, waiting and hoping for conclusively cancer-free results.
It seems fitting that we spend this Advent season waiting for good news, news that will usher in a brighter future. Advent is, after all, about waiting for the arrival of the Messiah, the deliverer who will establish God's kingdom here on Earth. Waiting for a God who enters into the messiness and uncertainty of this world, and looking for a tomorrow made better by God’s presence in it, seem especially fitting activities as I wait for definitively clear scans, whether or not I ever get them.
It seems fitting that we spend this Advent season waiting for good news, news that will usher in a brighter future. Advent is, after all, about waiting for the arrival of the Messiah, the deliverer who will establish God's kingdom here on Earth. Waiting for a God who enters into the messiness and uncertainty of this world, and looking for a tomorrow made better by God’s presence in it, seem especially fitting activities as I wait for definitively clear scans, whether or not I ever get them.
Monday, December 14, 2015
December 14th, 2015
When we got the diagnosis over a year ago now, I took the news much
better than a lot of other people. Better than anyone, honestly. While, as I have talked about before, some of this is due to my generally carefree nature, I attribute a good part of this that to the fact that I,
not someone I love, would have to go through it all. It would be far worse to have to watch someone else I care about enduring round after round of chemo, surgery followed by surgery, followed by still more surgeries, and truly nasty radiation treatment. On the other side of the coin, several people have expressed to me that they wish it was them, not me, going through it all. It is, I think, a natural reaction when we see people we care about suffering. We want to take it from them, to carry their burden and give them some respite from their trials. I would never let someone I care about take my cancer from me, even if that were possible.
In so many ways, I am grateful that it is me, not other people I know and love, going through this. For one, my body seems to handle craziness well, and to look at me now you would likely never guess what I've gone through this past year. My hair and beard are back, and I look rather fit and healthy, on the whole. I know that not everyone is so robust or able to handle such stress--mental and physical--without it taking a more serious toll on their bodies and their baseline level of health. I may be down about 50 pounds from where I was before this whole ordeal began, but it just makes me look like a runner, rather than a...whatever I looked like before. Couch potato, maybe? I haven't had any serious or trying long-term effects from my treatment this past year. That just isn't true for a lot of people going through this type of treatment, for various reasons. One of those reasons must be that, for whatever reason, I heal quickly. For that, I am immensely grateful.
But my thankfulness that it is me and not my wife, or brother, or sisters, or any number of other people going through this extends well beyond the practicality of how my body has handled it all and come out as unscathed as possible. The mental anguish that others must have handled this past year is not something I would care to deal with. I really doubt I would have remained half so calm and happy as I've been this past year were it my wife, not me, going through all the miserable treatments. That's why when people have expressed to me that they wish they could have this instead of me, I think 'well, that's really sweet, but I'd never let you.' Cancer treatment is not something I'd ever let someone I care about deal with, if I had the ability to go through it on their behalf.
Perhaps that’s how God feels. Perhaps for God it was so unbearable to see people muddling through their own mistakes that God came down to go through it all for us, giving us a way to be free from our wrongdoings and the suffering they can bring. Much like the people who have expressed that they wished they could take my cancer from me and go through the treatments themselves, God looked at humanity and could not help but become incarnate as a person, to go through the human experience of life, to endure the consequences of sin on our behalf. While it's impossible, of course, for any of us to actually take someone else's disease and go through their misery for them, it's comforting to have a God who can do much the same thing, and in fact already did.
In so many ways, I am grateful that it is me, not other people I know and love, going through this. For one, my body seems to handle craziness well, and to look at me now you would likely never guess what I've gone through this past year. My hair and beard are back, and I look rather fit and healthy, on the whole. I know that not everyone is so robust or able to handle such stress--mental and physical--without it taking a more serious toll on their bodies and their baseline level of health. I may be down about 50 pounds from where I was before this whole ordeal began, but it just makes me look like a runner, rather than a...whatever I looked like before. Couch potato, maybe? I haven't had any serious or trying long-term effects from my treatment this past year. That just isn't true for a lot of people going through this type of treatment, for various reasons. One of those reasons must be that, for whatever reason, I heal quickly. For that, I am immensely grateful.
But my thankfulness that it is me and not my wife, or brother, or sisters, or any number of other people going through this extends well beyond the practicality of how my body has handled it all and come out as unscathed as possible. The mental anguish that others must have handled this past year is not something I would care to deal with. I really doubt I would have remained half so calm and happy as I've been this past year were it my wife, not me, going through all the miserable treatments. That's why when people have expressed to me that they wish they could have this instead of me, I think 'well, that's really sweet, but I'd never let you.' Cancer treatment is not something I'd ever let someone I care about deal with, if I had the ability to go through it on their behalf.
Perhaps that’s how God feels. Perhaps for God it was so unbearable to see people muddling through their own mistakes that God came down to go through it all for us, giving us a way to be free from our wrongdoings and the suffering they can bring. Much like the people who have expressed that they wished they could take my cancer from me and go through the treatments themselves, God looked at humanity and could not help but become incarnate as a person, to go through the human experience of life, to endure the consequences of sin on our behalf. While it's impossible, of course, for any of us to actually take someone else's disease and go through their misery for them, it's comforting to have a God who can do much the same thing, and in fact already did.
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