Awareness

It’s almost the end of childhood cancer awareness month. Some folks will be relieved—no more depressing statistics about kids with cancer. But for some this month was just the start of a long journey, one they never wanted to be on. 

Tonight I talked to a mom for nearly an hour. Never met her before. She’s a lot like many of you—married, homeschooling her two teenage boys and her little girl, trying to finish up her degree so she can get a better job. Husband works but they’re struggling with inflation and taxes and everyday life. Then a little over two weeks ago her 12 year old son had a bad cold that turned out to be cancer. A tumor near his heart. Tests, hospitals, clinics, more tests. Learning a foreign language to be able to comprehend the incomprehensible: PICC line, lumbar puncture, ports, T-cells, CBC, blasts, chemo phase, intrathecal, bone marrow, neutrophils, AGC. knowing you need to ask people for help but not knowing how.

 The nightmare of insurance (Medicaid) and bills and using up what little PTO dad had so he could be with his son. And who watches the other kids on chemo days? What about mom’s degree? Laundry? Grocery money that went to pay medical bills? The other two kids? How does mom not feel guilty or not blame herself? What about the marriage? How do they deal with this? It’s not a hallmark movie. It’s real life. Friends say “let me know what I can do” but you can only handle so many tuna casseroles and lasagna dinners in aluminum foil trays. You need someone to step in and be you. To listen, to talk, to go out to coffee with. 

People ask “how do you do this?”  There’s no answer to that. You just do it. Because you must. When  parents are  dealt the childhood cancer card, they feel their life spinning out of control. Because it is. The only thing they can do is pretend to be in control of the disaster.  Calm. Clear headed. Decisive. When inside every nerve is screaming and you just want to punch someone. 

Childhood. 

Cancer. 

Awareness. 

Think about those three words. 

Childhood ends when a child is diagnosed with cancer. That child is forever changed. I know. I saw my daughter go from being 12 to 40 in a matter of hours.  A child doesn’t understand death or life threatening illness—children are immortal, living in a Peter Pan world. Until that child sees cancer through our eyes, our tears. 

Cancer is such an ugly nonspecific word that evokes dread and fear, a catchall term for any disease, growth or condition that takes longer than 2 minutes to explain. Just hearing that word after the word “childhood” is an oxymoron and makes me want to vomit.  

Awareness. Only the families and the healthcare teams have awareness of childhood cancer and the devastation it causes.  Because if the majority of the world was as aware of childhood cancer as we are, there would be such an outcry for research and funding the pharmaceutical companies would be falling over themselves to develop new treatments. Aware? You bet I’m aware; so is my daughter. And the countless families affected every single day. 

And there is a family in Missouri who has more awareness than they bargained for—a childhood stolen by cancer during childhood cancer awareness month. 

Cultivating a Servant's Heart

This week I have been struggling with the reality of learning to have a servant's heart, of being a servant. I keep trying to skip the homework lesson, but the Lord does not want to let me slide on it.  Silly me, here I figured just because I volunteer 40 hours a week at a local non-profit store, I could get a free pass.  And wait, what about those Meals on Wheels I deliver one day a week? That should count as extra credit!  And, as if that isn't enough, here we are, in the final stages of organizing a fundraiser for childhood cancer research--quite a successful fundraiser, if I must say so myself! While I am taking care of my mentally handicapped elderly brother.  And trying to muddle through a messy legal battle. What more could I be doing? Heck, I am awesome!  

Gulp...That was a big chunk of humble pie I just choked on.

Serving with a servant's heart doesn't meant serving for the purpose of being noticed, or for the purpose of self-love, or praises of others.  A servant's heart serves others by seeking to meet the real needs of another.  Without seeking praise. Or recognition. Or appreciation. Or even a thank you. The humility of it all smacked me in the forehead yesterday morning, when I stayed in bed an extra ten minutes.  My husband had made my brother a quick breakfast of cereal and juice, but had to leave for an appointment before he could make coffee. He rushed off, I threw on a robe, and came out in the living room, said good morning to my brother, and started to head to the kitchen for a drink of water. Before I went five steps, my brother bluntly asked if I was ever going to make him some coffee. I stopped.  I bit my tongue. And that is when it hit me. What if that had been my four-year old granddaughter asking me, "Nana, when are you going to get me some juice?"

Being a servant, having a servant's heart, is looking at everyone, every person you serve, as if he is Christ.  Even when the person you serve is grouchy, or isn't a cute, sweet little baby.  Or won't ever stop needing you. Or will ever return the favor, or ever appreciate you. Yes, even if the person is that customer who has Aspergers' and is rude to you every single time she comes in the store, the one who glares at you or calls you names.  

Because having a servant's heart is NOT about being a servant just to someone else...it is about being in submission to God first, THEN being in submission to one another. Submitting to their real needs, willingly, and therefore subjugating my own needs, with zero desire for praise or payback. Every relationship I have, I must have a servant's heart. Sister, friend, daughter, mother, volunteer, wife, child of God.  A servant's heart.

Lord give me a servant's heart.

Brotherly Love

Don't you just love it when you read something really simple, and you are like, "yeah, that's right!  That is so simple! Everyone should be doing it that way!  If the whole world did that, like I do it...ahem....um....cough, cough, what? Me? Oh, I am supposed to do this too?  I thought it applied to everyone else, not me.  I thought I had this Christian stuff down already. What? Brotherly love? But I'm a woman, so wouldn't it be 'sisterly' love? LOL. ha ha....just kidding. You're not laughing, pastor.  Sigh. Okay. Let me read it again. I'll pay attention this time."

That is how I felt tonight at evening service. We had choir practice, and then we started right into our little short evening service, and did prayer requests and such, sang a couple of hymns of worship, and then Andy read two little verses out of Hebrews--two verses! I mean, what could be so consequential about two verses, 19 words really.

     Let brotherly love continue.  Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers,  for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. (Hebrews 13:1-2)

Okay, first of all, I've got to be honest (it is sort of a requirement to be honest, especially when you have a Bible open under your feet). I sometimes do not even let brotherly love start, let alone let it continue. At least not for everyone. Sometimes I just show that brotherly love towards people I like, or people I agree with, or people who believe the same way I do. It's easier like that. But I am fairly certain that is NOT what Paul (or Christ or the Holy Spirit or even my pastor) meant.   

Second, that hospitality toward strangers? Does He mean inviting people I don't know to my house? So they will know where I live? And see what I have? What if the strangers think I am just trying to impress them? What if they come back and rob me? What if I embarrass them? What if I embarrass myself? What if I cook something they are allergic to? What if they're vegans? Or diabetics? How do I invite these people? On Facebook? Phone? On the street? Text? Is there a dress code? See? These are the crazy things, aka excuses, that go through my mind. My mind is a complex, frightening thing...

So, homework this week is brotherly love towards all, and show hospitality to someone I don't know. Reflect the love of Christ

I am going to bed. I need a good night's sleep.

Thanksgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Turkey with all the trimmings. Family dinners and togetherness. Football games. Shopping expeditions.  Afternoon naps.  Homemade centerpieces and decorations. Getting out the Christmas lights and decorations.  Preparing for days to cook a meal for 6 hours that is inhaled in minutes. I always loved that part. Seriously. A home filled with wonderful smells and sounds and sights. 

Except for mine. I am sad. And a bit resentful of all those Facebook posts of yummy pies and turkey and stuffing. Tired of reading recipes for sweet potato casseroles and the debate over which stuffing is better. I actually gave away our thawed Butterball turkey this morning to someone who can put it to good use.  Because I do not feel like cooking a five course meal tomorrow. None of our kids will be with us, or grandkids. No parents or siblings, not even the Kazees. Just me and Alex and the dogs, and I will be spending most of my time at Transylvania Regional Hospital. With my mom, who had surgery over a week ago. And she is still here because she isn't well enough to go home. So I sleep on the little bench in the room, and get her ice chips and help her get up and ask nurses questions and try to eat the hospital food on an extra patient tray. 

So as I sit here feeling sorry for myself and glum, and more than a little bit jealous of those big turkeys with homemade dressing and cranberries, a verse in 1 Thessalonians came to mind: "In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 

And I look at my mom in her hospital bed, with tubes just about everywhere. As she reads the paper and eats another ice chip. As the IV alarm beeps again and the nurse comes in and fixes it, and as mom puts down the paper and smiles at me. As my husband is at home taking care of all four dogs by himself. As one daughter is tucking in her three precious girls halfway around the world. As another daughter is awaiting the birth of her firstborn child. As my sister and her daughters drive to visit my dad and stepmom and brother. And another sister is welcoming her grown children at her new home in Florida. As friends call me to ask how we are doing, and send their prayers up on our behalf. And I contemplate how I am saved by grace, through no doings of my own.

And I am thankful. 

Struggle

Selfishness...is my constant struggle. Look st all the words we  have in the English language with a prefix of "self". Self image.  Self aware.  Self esteem.  Self assurance.  Self pity.  Self confidence.  Self fulfillment.  Self actualization.  Myself.  Self absorbed. Self destruct. Self centered.  Self preservation. Self improvement. Self image.  Self indulgent.  Self respect.  Self reliant. Self sacrifice.  Self made. Self help. Self imposed. Self righteous.  Self fulfilling.  Self evident. Self denial. Self deprecating. Self control. Self expression. Self conscious   Self determination. 

All of these words presume I am in charge...that we are able to take charge of our destiny.  We determine our fate.  When in reality it is our creator who is in charge of all we do. If I am to grow in Christ and become more like Him, I must surrender this false assumption of being in control.  Less of me = more of Him.  

Easy to say but not so easy to follow. It is however so liberating to know that I can depend on my creator for all my needs, to answer all my prayers, and to suppress my overinflated sense of self.