Keep Calm & Carry On

It has been a while since a post so I thought I'd throw in my two cents...

Last fall I had lunch with a friend I only see occasionally.  During that lunch I shared all that was going on with our family.  Towards the end of the conversation he said something to me that has stuck with me for months - "You are a duck.  You look calm on the surface, but I bet underwater your paddling like crazy."  I think this has stuck with me because it is true.  I've wrestled for years with my internal belief (fostered, in part, by the stoic community in which I was raised) that being a good leader means not freaking out in a crisis.  This belief causes me, in my public and professional life, to, more often than not, remain rather non-plussed by everything.  This gets me in trouble because this restrained emotion can come off as being aloof, distant, uninterested, upset, or even angry.  I've used this restrained approach, admittedly my default, throughout our families journey through Stacey's cancer and other recent challenges, but under the surface I've been paddling like crazy.

I think one of the reasons there has been no post in this space for over a month is that at some point the treatment of cancer becomes a daily reality.  It just develops into the life you are living.  Nothing much seems like news or breaks into the routine with a revelation.  Each weekly trip to chemo bleeds into the last.  Doctors talk about patients getting "chemo brain," a foggy headed feeling and some very minor short-term memory loss, but I think those close to the patient also develop a bit of a foggy brain too.  A brain that is just a bit numb to the whole thing after a while.  Everyone's attitude moves quickly from the shock of  diagnosis ("Is the really happening?"), to the resolve of early treatment ("We are going to beat this thing!"), to a very level "Keep Calm & Carry On" (that great WWII British statement of unemotional resolve and determination - those posters were meant to improve morale!) of ongoing treatment.  We are deep into the "Keep Calm & Carry On" phase.  

I have woken up many mornings in the past few months with a song in my head.  The track comes off one of my favorite albums of last year Some Nights by Fun.  The song that my brain has often brought me into a new day with is Carry On.  The chorus states:

if your lost and alone

or your sinking like a stone

carry on

may you past be the sound

of your feel upon the ground

carry on

I have never once felt alone on this journey.  However, I have felt lost, and like I'm sinking (I've described it to friends as feeling like I'm drowning).  Frankly, most days I feel like the best thing I can do is carry on.  Simply keep moving one foot in front of the other - keep my little duck legs paddling like crazy under the surface and staying calm above water as best I can.  Sadly the calm is mostly broken by yelling at the kids who are themselves just trying to make it through the mess.

Stacey has two more chemo treatments.  That portion of the journey ends on Feb. 6.  She tells me everyday how much she just wants to feel normal again.  Once chemo is done its on to radiation, and continued hormone therapy.  

Paddle, paddle.

Step, Step.

Keep Calm & Carry On.

Joel K.

How Deep Is the Pit -Part II

So I wrote Part I a couple of days ago when I was feeling pretty lousy. I admit, I'm  tired.  I have had some sort of sinus infection/bad cold and ached all over.  I have missed two weeks of work and just don't know who this person walking around in this body is anymore.  At the time I still had eight more of the total twelve treatments and that just sounded undoable.

After today, week five of Taxol treatment with seven more to go, I am humbled.  
Once again, immersed in humility, filled with gratitude.

I don't even know what to say or how to feel.

Yesterday Joel received a call from Klatt Elementry, where only one of the three kids still remain.  Seven years ago we did something kind of crazy.  We sold our home and purposely moved into Dimond Estates Trailer Court.  Why you might ask (Joel did...many times?).   I guess it was more of a calling for me. I desired for our kids live in a neighborhood where they attended school the neighborhood school (previously the kids had been in a lottery program in a neighborhood we did not live in), to live in a neighborhood our church "reached out" to, and one that was close to Parachutes.  Cohesiveness!  There have been moments when I have felt, YES, this is why we moved here.  Kids hung out at our house and we've connected with kids through Parachutes who are sometimes surprised to hear we live in the trailer court.  Living here has taught me so much.  It's amazing how just when you think you are doing the "God thing" right, things really get flopped around.  Since I started working  again full time I've really lost a lot of connection to this community cohesiveness of school, church, ministry...life.

So why am I  so humbled?  The phone all was from the school nurse.  She requested Joel stop by...just because.  We knew something was up and figured a gift was being given.  A gift is an understatement.  It was gift, after gift, after gift.  So many gift cards...imagine the end isle of the grocery store where they sell gift cards from anywhwere and everywhere.  This is what we received.  Unreal!  I guess the reason I'm so humbled is not necessarily the gifts per-say but how many people must have given and the words expressed in the card.  When you work "in ministry" you are on a mission,  right?  It's about what YOU are going to do FOR God...and oh yeah...for his people.  For a while I've been thinking a lot that church has become so humanistic.  The reason we serve is so we get a benefit, so we can feel we are a part of HIS PLAN.  Jesus died on the cross to save ME from my sins.  We serve Him because we love him and it makes ME feel good.  He loves ME.  

And He does, and yes it brings comfort and Joy to know God sent a tiny baby into this world and died on the cross because He loves me.  

I just think God is so much more than that.  It so much bigger than ME.  He is all about redeeming His world and making it all right again and while working out His plan extending an awful lot of grace.  It has nothing to do with what "my hands" have done. We who believe in this great God are just lucky enough to get to participate in it.  Jesus told us to "take up his cross and follow him" and we are to take the path that is less traveled.  A cross is heavy, a path less traveled is scary but grace is extended along the way.  Our family was able to experience this grace today receiving an amazing gift from amazing people who gave so graciously.  A gift that can help me out of the pit or help me find my way back out of the tunnel. Or maybe this is all so I can boast about a Great God and extend a word of encouragement to one of the 11,000 people who have at some point in time read this blog.  If you are also in a pit or dark tunnel, God's grace is sufficient and if you so chose to follow Him by taking upon the cross and following the path less traveled that is what it is about.  You get to participate in God redeeming his world and that is all you need.

I may be in a pit right now and it's kind of dark and dirty but there is hope, there is love, there is humility, there is pain, there is joy and it is amazing.

This is not the only thing.  Dear friends of ours, Mike and Linda Setterberg flew from Fairbanks to serve us.  This too is so humbling.  To sacrifice their time with their family to serve us at this time of year...who does that????  How can you even thank someone enough?  

This little note just cannot say enough how grateful I am.

The Lord Bless YOU and keep YOU, may His Face shine upon all of you and give you HIS peace!

How Deep Is the Pit? Part I

Well...

I have managed to stay at the edge of the pit for a while.  A couple of times I think I lost my footing but now I think I finally fell in.  At first I thought I have hit the bottom.  In the shower today I wondered, "O man, what if this is not the bottom yet?  How deep is it?"  I have also thought of the analogy of a tunnel.  I started this journey in July and until now I have kept the opening of the tunnel in sight.

I lost it.

I cannot see the opening anymore.

Do not worry.  I do not feel hopeless.  I know I just need to climb my way back out or meander a little more through the tunnel to find where I entered.

The light is still there,
I just don't see it right now.

But again, this is my quandry.  How deep is the pit? How much further does this tunnel go?  I am the type of person who is always curious and I always want to make it to the end.  It's like hiking Exit Glacier.  I don't think I have ever made it to the Harding Ice Field and this really bothers me.  I have made it to the shelter at the top but is this on the Harding Ice Field, where does the trail to Exit Glacier stop and the Harding Ice Field begin?

It scares me a little to think about how deep it might be, how far the tunnel goes and this is the one time I don't think I want to know.  Where I am now is good.  Everyday I would like to get a little further out of the pit or at least recognize my path in the tunnel to know I am on the right track.

A Christmas bonus

While at round two of  Taxol today I spoke with Dr. Smiley, my oncologist, basically venting that the insurance is not covering certain things.  Certain things like $3,000 for my Power-Port (for those of you who may not know what a port is...it is a plastic, self healing rubber type mechanism they place IN YOUR BODY which provides easy access to a major artery for intravenously administering the medications and easy access for drawing blood, etc.  This mechanism will be in my body for a little more than one year, then they will remove it.   I think we should have a port removal celebration!  Dr. Smiley was saying today that if the bla,bla,bla radiologist (can't remember the technical name of the person) would have placed the port the insurance would most likely have covered the whole thing.  Because I went through a surgeon who charges more than normal insurance will not cover it.  WHAT THE....???

Why are we not told....so and so can place a port for $1200, I charge $3000...who would you like to place your port?  Umm, let's see here, I think I will go with the $1200 rate that insurance will cover 100%, thank you very much.

So, as I was explaining to Joel the situation and both getting frustrated about it, I was also thinking there is just nothing we can do about that now so accept it, deal with it, and pay it.

Another thought going through my head was, "God, if there could just be a really big check in the mail when we get home that would be really marvelous.  I trust you God to provide in whatever way you want to but a really big check would make life a little easier."  Sort of  feeling bad I was asking God because as usual I just ask Him for these really outrageous things only when I desparately need them...ya hear me?

Well, I know you are all thinking we drove home, checked the mail and there was a big, whomping big ole' check to cover all our medical bills.  Not quite....but just as good.  In the mail was another bill from Alaska Breast Care and Surgery.  The bill was for $77.55.  Alaska Breast Care gave an "Adjustment-Discount-Multiple Procedure Discount" in the amount of $2,500.  We had already made a payment for $500 and now we only owe $77.55.

I think this was an answer to my whining, begging, please God prayer....don't you?

And not to mention when I got home and checked Facebook there was another Christmas present waiting for me.  Geneiveve, an amazing ballet dancer, is performing in a tribute to cancer survivors on the 21st of December and chose me as the person to dance for.  People from church contributed money so that me and the girls can go to the performance on the 21st. Is that beautiful or what?  I guess the 5th Annual Solstice party will have to be on the 22nd.   Or...maybe next year!!  I'll let you all know soon =)

Honestly, I had been feeling a little down the past week or so.

and now...

I am nothing but humbled.

Grace and peace to all of you.  And again, in the words of my Dad, "God is good, keep on praying."

Stacey

FAMILY

There is no better way to get through a round of chemo than with a dad who is fighting his own battle, a tenderhearted mother, and two sisters who are your greatest friends.  My family was able to fly up and spend a few nights in a hotel, spend two nights at Victory Bible Camp last weekend, and enjoy lunch at Chair 5 in Girdwood.  It was a restful weekend nestled in God's majestic creation and my family doing all the cooking and cleaning while they were here.  I am blessed to have such a great family.

Dad was  trooper just heading out in the cold let alone a short hike up a hill.
He gladly accepted a ride on the kick sled back across the lake.

Teepee Ridge

Inspiration Point

Beluga Point along Turnagain Arm

Half way there

Today marks the halfway point through chemotherapy.  I must say I'm somewhat dreading it (other than I get to watch a movie with Joel while I'm getting the infusion!)  Just when I start to feel a little more like myself they zap you again. As I mentioned before taking medicine is not my thing.  I don't think I have ever once in my life finished a round of antibiotics.  Once I start feeling good I know I'm through the woods and don't feel the need to finish the drugs.  That's a little how I feel about this cancer.  I'm through the woods....good to go.  I just don't think Joel will let me quit this time!  I cannot fathom Taxol once a week for twelve weeks, uggg!  Not to mention once chemo is over 33 rounds of radiation.  And after 33 rounds of radiation Herceptin for A YEAR.  Sometimes I wonder how I will get through it.  OK, I've ranted enough.  I know I will get through it.

And this is how I will get through this round...My mom, dad, and two sisters are coming to AK!  We are all very excited for their visit.  Please pray for my chemo buddy (dad) that he will fair the plane ride well and not get too exhausted through his travels.  They leave MI today, Tues. Oct 30 arriving around midnight. There is not much of an agenda planned so hopefully it will be restful for everyone.  If any pilots here in Anchorage would like to take him out I'm sure he would love it!  (Dr. Moll.....are you reading my blog? ;)

Again, as always....thanks to everyone who has done anything to help me get through this.

Theology, Comedy, and Reality

Theology:

I took a class a couple of years back titled The Scandal Of the Cross that had two parts.  The first part of the class was focused on different theologies of the atonement (what happens at the cross and how they impact the practice of ministry) and the second part was about the Biblical practice of Lament.  During the class I was drawn to the atonement theology part (because I am a nerd) of it and had very little interest in the lament portion of the program (because I am Dutch).  Strange how things change.  In recent months I don't think I have thought about atonement theology once, but I am recalling a great deal about lament.  When you boil it all down lament is truth telling - naming feelings and saying it like it is.

One of the ways you can break down the Psalms is into the categories of orientation, disorientation and reorientation.  Laments often take the form of disorientation.  However, the Psalms are not the only place we see laments in scripture. They are also found in Jeremiah (weeping prophet), Lamentations, Job, other prophets, and even in Paul's writings.

I believe that modern day monk Richard Rohr is right when he states "all religion is pain management" and "if you are not transforming your pain you are transmitting it."

In other words we NEED to lament.

One really interesting thing I remember is that in the Book of Lamentations God never speaks.  God is silent.  We expect God to speak in the Bible – it's His book - but as His people cry out in pain He is wordless.  In our world we all expect, in fact we feel entitled, to express our voice, but God stays silent in lament.  God gives space for our pain, disorientation, grief, etc.  In a space where we get defensive and aggressive, God does not.  God honors our pain in His silence.  If God relinquishes His voice and gives space to ours in the middle of His story – then Lament must be important.

So we must name names. We must call a thing what it is.  Lament uses the often abrasive language of frustration and crying out as well as silence, grunts, and the weird utterances of being that show up in the space of not knowing what to say.  No matter how we express our lament we all know, like the psalmist, that God can take it.  God can handle the truth.

Comedy:

This week Stacey and I discovered a great example of lament on the radio.  It was a lament delivered by comedian Tig Notaro.  We heard her on NPR talking about this stand-up she did days after being diagnosed with breast cancer and a number of other tragedies in her life. After hearing the interview (and the one with Louis CK who talks about her performance) I downloaded the entire stand-up act (available for $5 at https://buy.louisck.net - worth every cent).  Her 30 minute set is one of the most real things I have ever heard.  It is in fact/effect a sermon on lament.  Tig handles many aspects of cancer in a funny, but honest way that causes the crowd to beg her not to switch to lighter material - which speaks to our cultures need for truth telling, the very thing at the heart of lament. Tig tells the truth.

The radio interviews can be heard at:
http://www.npr.org/2012/10/08/162514763/standup-comic-tig-notaro

http://www.npr.org/2012/10/08/162514765/louis-c-k

Reality:

I don’t like to share my emotions...in fact I'm beginning to wonder how in touch I am with anything I feel.  I'm a  Dutch stoic, who is reserved and reluctant to share anything too deep.  It has become clear to me in the past couple weeks that I'm having a hard time keeping the car that is me, between the lines on the road that is my life.  While this blog is about Stacey's journey through cancer, let me assure you the things I am lamenting are far beyond that single topic.  It seems that seemingly every area of my life right now is uncertain and challenging.  I have been lamenting a good deal of the time.  I feel angry, lost, tired, overwhelmed, helpless, sad, and blessed often in the span of 30 seconds.  That is the reality

Joel K