I cared for you in the desert,
in the land of burning heat.   

Hosea 13:5 

 See,  I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.   

Isaiah 43:19 

Justice will dwell in the desert
and righteousness live in the fertile field.   

Isaiah 32:16 

 Let the desert and its towns raise their voices;
let the settlements where Kedar lives rejoice.
Let the people of Sela sing for joy;
let them shout from the mountaintops.   

Isaiah 42:11 

10-12 As Pharaoh approached, the Israelites looked up and saw them— Egyptians! Coming at them!

   They were totally afraid. They cried out in terror to God.   They told Moses, “Weren’t the cemeteries large enough in Egypt so that you had to take us out here in the wilderness to die? What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt? Back in Egypt didn’t we tell you this would happen? Didn’t we tell you, ‘Leave us alone here in Egypt—we’re better off as slaves in Egypt than as corpses in the wilderness.’”

 13  Moses spoke to the people: “Don’t be afraid. Stand firm and watch God do his work of salvation for you today. Take a good look at the Egyptians today for you’re never going to see them again.

 14  God will fight the battle for you.
      And you? You keep your mouths shut!”

 Note:  Any mention in this blog of Egyptians refers to the particular enemies of Israel at the time of their escape from Egypt.  It has nothing to do with the modern day nation or peoples.

◊   ◊   ◊

  The Israelites were excited.  God had set them free.  They had escaped their “prison.”   The Bible says that they walked out without looking back.   That was confidence.  Confidence that God had set them free and would protect them.

Oooops!!  They did look back.  (^10-12As Pharaoh approached, the Israelites looked up and saw them— Egyptians! Coming at them!) 

They lost sight of God and saw —— Egyptians.    What they saw terrified them.  ( They were totally afraid. They cried out in terror to God. )        

I can call it whatever I want – but when I allow something in my life to loom larger than God, He gets blocked out of the picture and I lose my perspective.

What’s your “Egyptians?” 

Mine’s loneliness and fear of the future.  It isn’t the way I had planned it. 

How am I  possibly going to survive financially? 

How am I going to live day to day without the companionship and relationship I had become accustomed to and loved? 

My nights are when my demons come out. 

This separation is permanent.  She’s not gone on vacation. She didn’t go to a retreat for a few days. 

This is permanent and irrevocable!

I feel the fear grip my heart.  I can’t breathe.  I feel the claustrophobia closing in. 

I yell at God.  “Why did you do this?  Things were just fine the way they were!  What were you thinking?” 

“What now, God?” 

“How can I survive?” 

“Why don’t you just take me right now?” 

“I don’t want to be here any more!”

This morning I read from the Bible in Exodus 14 -

 ¹³ Moses spoke to the people: “Don’t be afraid. Stand firm and watch God do his work of salvation for you today.   Take a good look at the Egyptians today for you’re never going to see them again.

 ¹⁴ God will fight the battle for you.
      And you? You keep your mouths shut!”

The very first thing that stood out for me was “Keep your mouth shut.”     Hmmmmmm, OK, sorry.  Maybe I was a little out of line.  But I just can’t see how anyone can go on under these circumstances.

Then I read it again.

“Don’t be afraid.   Stand firm and watch God do his work of salvation for you today.”

“God will fight the battle for you.”

I am standing in the way,  aren’t I.  I am looking in the wrong direction.  All I see is ‘Egyptians’.   If I had kept my eyes where they belonged, my attention would have been on a mighty God for whom the ‘Egyyptians’ are no match at all.  I would have seen that He was standing between me and the Egyptians and that He had me in His shadow where I was protected.

I haven’t seen the outcome of the battle yet, but He has promised that He will take care of it.  It’s  a day by day thing and I have to meet Him every single day and give the battles to Him.   It’s a lot easier.

Are you seeing ‘Egyptians’?  Look  the other way!

The battle was lost but the war was won!

Michele entered her heavenly reward and was welcomed into the arms of Jesus with the music of  thousands of angels and beating wings at 11:15am yesterday, September 8, 2009.

What a sight that must have been.  What a delight to see her new home.  Even better, to have a new body free from pain and suffering.  And hair . . . . .  long , soft golden hair . . . . .  or maybe dreadlocks, she kinda liked that too.

She is beyond happy.  I’m happy for her.  Miss her though.  BIG!!

Please pray for me, too.  For courage, strength, and patience and also the time and energy to get my own work  done on the side.

Thank you.

She is doing well.  Still in bed full time.  Still on oxygen.  But only on 5 liters instead of 15 liters.  She is alert and in good spirits.  

Oh, also!  A nurse comes by three times a week and a Patient Care Technician comes at least twice a week to bathe her, change the linen and do whatever is needed to make sure she is comfortable.

More later.  Just wanted you to know.

Praise Jesus!!

-  6 AM  -

 I awakened at 6am on the nose.  I sleep on a small sofa bed in Michele’s room at Peppi”s Place, a hospice unit of TMC in Tucson, AZ.  Michele has been on maximum oxygen with a full face mask for two weeks.  She also has no more options left for healing from cancer.  Well, no medical options, anyway.  Except  . . . . . . . .  one long shot.  A pill – a drug – a medication - that may or may not work and it takes several days to find out.  But, if it does, . . . . . . .  watch out.

Well, I woke up and, like a father of a newborn, stared at Michele lying in her bed to see if she was breathing.  I could see that she was breathing and it was somewhat  regular.  Not heaving like I was accustomed to seeing.  It was more . . .  rhythmic.  I got up, slowly – that’s a sofa bed you know – and went over to her bed.  I leaned down and looked at her face.  It was remarkable how beautiful and peaceful she looked.  There was something unusual.  I suddenly realized that she was not wearing her mask.  It had somehow slipped off her face in the night – who knows when.  As I watched her, I saw that her face had color – pink.  It wasn’t blue.  She was not struggling to breathe.  So I watched for a while.

As I watched, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at me.  Her usual smile creased her face.  I hadn’t seen this face without a full face mask for almost two weeks.  She looked at me for a moment and then said  “Good morning.”  “Good morning, sweetie,” I said.  That’s what I call her.  Sweetie. That’s why I said it.  I waited for a few seconds to see what her reaction would be to no face mask, but apparently she hadn’t realized yet that it was missing.

“Notice anything?” I asked.   She looked around and said, “No.”    Cute, huh?     I said, “Your mask is off.  You aren’t wearing your mask.  It came off  in the night.”  She looked around a little more and I pointed to the mask partially buried under her sheet and blanket.  I could see realization  overcoming the sleepiness of waking up.  “How does that make you feel?” I asked.  She thought a second and then said, “A little panicky,” as she grabbed the mask and put it back on.

-  7AM  -

She left the mask on for awhile and after about 15 minutes she said that she would  like to sit  in the recliner chair for awhile and have her breakfast there.  Obviously, she was none the worse for  lack of a mask.  We called the nurse and she helped get Michele into the recliner.  I got our breakfast and sat beside her.  As we were eating and watching a morning show on TV, I noticed that she was periodically taking off her mask.  In a little bit it would  go back on her face.   Soon, the mask was staying off for longer and longer periods of time.  Sitting up takes a lot of energy.  Now add eating, occasional conversation, and breathing plain air.  She was doing good.  Eventually it took a bit of a toll on her and she needed to get back to bed.  With a little help from the nurse and techs we got her in bed and relaxed.  Now,  the mask was staying off far longer than it was on.  She looked good and she felt good.

-  11AM  -

At 11 AM, the doctor  came in for his morning rounds.  He noted the mask  laying on the bed, but didn’t mention it. (I wouldn’t want to play poker with this guy.  He’s got a good poker face.)  After a brief examination, Michele and I  related the events  of the morning.  He asked what Michele wanted to do.  Rather than continue with the on and off treatment with a full mask and 15 liters of oxygen, Michele decided to ask for a  nose cannula which required that her oxygen level be dropped by about 65% to 4 or 5 liters of oxygen.  A big, big step considering that just a few days before she couldn’t be weaned off the oxygen for more than a few seconds. 

The doctor’s poker face dropped and I saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face.  I think he was feeling our excitement.  Something seemed to be happening.  I didn’t want to even think that, certainly not  voice it,  just in case it didn’t pan out.    What if I make a big deal about this and then it fails and she goes back to the old face mask?  Then I began to think, Where is my faith now?  When it seems like my prayers are being answered, why do I  clam up and not share it?  Waiting for the other shoe to drop, maybe?  That’s a lousy example of faith, isn’t  it?

I decided to voice my agreement with Michele and go for the big leap.  So did the doctor.  Michele was fitted with the nose cannula, the oxygen was turned down to about 5 liters and she sat there with it all day, beaming proudly like she was wearing a new set of earrings.  I took another leap and sent an e-mail, with a photo, to all our family and many of our friends telling them what had happened – that something had happened!  I put it on Facebook!!    Wow!!    Scary!!      No, not scary.  It was more . . . .  thrilling!      You should have seen me in the room.  P  acing around, bouncing up and down, big smile on my face.  Something happened!

-  2PM  -

We hooked her up to the oxygen meter a couple of times just to make sure we weren’t taking it too far.  The doctor would like to see her level at 92% but lower levels are okay if she can tolerate it.  The first time she checked  in at 90%.  Good!  That’s really close.   We didn’t check  it  again until late afternoon and at that time it was reading a little low, bouncing between 86 and 89%.  But, she was comfortable.  No distress.  And her breathing was not as labored.

-  6PM  -

She continued into the evening and even entertained some guests for a couple of hours.  At the last vitals check about 10 PM, , the nurse asked if Michele wanted to keep the cannula on for the night or go for the security of the full mask.  She really wanted to stick with the cannula.  That full mask can be claustrophobic and she had been wearing it way too long.  However, she didn’t want to risk have her levels go down during the night. So she decided to check her level (SATS) one more time.  It was 92%.  How encouraging was that?

-  2AM  -

It’s about 2 AM now as I write this and she is peacefully sleeping, her face turned toward me.  She is beautiful, her face is pink and peaceful.  Thank you, Lord.  I can’t wait  for  tomorrow – whatever it brings.  We’re in Your hands and we can’t go wrong.

Something’s happening!    

For the past two weeks Michele has been getting progressively weaker and experiencing more pain.  She is now on a leave of absence from work and either sits in a chair in the living room or sleeps in her bed.  She needs help to make  any movement – up, down, room to room, etc.  She’s going through a lot of the pain medication.  The doctor’s feel it is a reaction to the chemo she is getting.  Her breathing is becoming more labored and shallow.   I see a bluish tinge to her skin, especially her legs.

On this day, I had to leave for business for a couple hours and she was in the living room sitting in her chair watching TV.  She assured me she was okay and would call if she needed anything.  (She would probably say that if her hair was on fire, but since she doesn’t have any right now, I didn’t think of that).

I returned in the middle of the afternoon and found she was in a lot of distress.  She needed to go lie down on her bed.  She complained of pain in her chest, extreme shortness of breath, pain in her legs and absolute weakness.  I helped her to the bed, but her color and her pain alarmed me.  She had blood clots in her legs about two weeks ago and I was concerned some clots may go to her lungs.  I decided that this is beyond the two of us and I called for the paramedics.  They determined that her oxygen level was at 70% – critical – and that there was apparently some question about an abnormality with her heart.  She was transported Code 3 to St. Joseph Hospital, the nearest hospital, instead of  UMC where we would rather have her.  Time was just too critical.  Once she got there, it was eventually determined that there was not an embolism or a heart issue, but a CT scan showed massive “something” in both her lungs.  She was placed on the maximum amount of oxygen with a full face mask.  If she needed more oxygen than this, she would have been placed on a ventilator.  Fortunately, this arrangement supplied her with the oxygen she needed for now.   Many tests later, she was admitted.

Wednesday, August 19

After two days we decided to transfer her to UMC, where she had been receiving all her chemotherapy and radiation treatments since the discovery of the cancer six months earlier and where all her records and her oncologists were located.  Because of the need for constant oxygen, no diagnostic treatments could be performed to determine what was in her lungs.  There was a risk of uncontrollable bleeding due to her Coumadin medication.  If there were any complications during the diagnostic treatments, she would have to be placed on a ventilator.  Since the lungs were obviously damaged, it would not be likely that they would regenerate and therefore she would remain on ventilation forever.   The doctors had to treat her “in the blind.”  They knew of several things it could be, including a new and aggressive outbreak of cancer, a bacterial infection, a viral infection, fluid buildup, chemotherapy or radiation damage, etc.,  so they decided to treat her for everything and see if she improved.  Over the next seven days, Michele was given huge doses of strong antibiotics, steroids, and other drugs.  Some drugs were to offset the drugs she was receiving.  Nasty!  During this time, they also intended to slowly wean her off oxygen and Coumadin so that she could have a scope placed into her lungs for diagnosis.  Unfortunately, she could not tolerate any reduced oxygen and continued to receive the maximum amount and no internal diagnosis was performed.

Sunday, August 23

On Sunday, we were told by the team of doctors that if there was no response to the medication, it would indicate that there was no viral or bacterial infection and that this was most likely a renewed attack of cancer resistant to all the chemotherapy she had received.  There was no more chemotherapy available that would be effective against this cancer.  If her lungs did not improve on their own, Michele would remain on the maximum dosage of oxygen therapy and when her breathing regressed, she would have to be placed on a ventilator.  There was most likely no return from that situation. 

As bad as that news was, and it was a bit staggering, we were prepared for  it.  God gave us a tremendous peace and we knew that He was in control and that He had a reason for what was happening.  I marvel at Michele’s faith and her lack of fear in facing this obstacle in her life.  She was and is ready to meet her Savior and does not question his wisdom or tactics.  Michele had already determined that ventilation was not a choice of a lifestyle for her and together we had completed the appropriate paperwork to indicate her choices about end of life.  We were having some very frank discussions about what we were facing and were very aware that we were not far from the end for her.  Her doctor wanted to give the medications a few more days to complete their effectiveness before any more decisions were made.

Wednesday, August 26

Michele’s oncologist met with us and advised that the medications had run their full course and there had been no  visible change in her symptoms. She still needed full oxygen – taking the oxygen away for even the briefest moments caused her breathing to become much more labored and she would become weaker and weaker.  Eating and talking were difficult at best.  There was really not much change since her arrival.  The oncologist said that this was a typical outbreak of the cancer that had been under control till now and that it was growing and only a matter of time before her body gave up and could fight no more. 

 She estimated that Michele had one to two weeks left.

The oncologist desired to place Michele in hospice so  that she would be cared for and kept comfortable during her last days.  The one that she suggested is Peppi’s  Place, part of Tucson Medical  Center.  She wanted Michele to go there immediately.  She then told us about one more treatment that might have an impact on her disease.  There is a fairly new drug that is used after all other chemotherapy has failed.  It attacks a specific molecular structure in cancer and destroys it.  Michele’s cancer would have to have that particular molecular structure or it would be of no benefit.  There would be no way of knowing if it would  be effective until it was tried.  It’s either Pass or Fail.  The good thing is that when it IS effective, results are seen within a few days or a week.  The bad thing is, we have to find it and get insurance approval because it needs to start now.

Michele was really tired of the fight and although she was not willing to give up, she was not excited about trying another treatment that only briefly prolonged the inevitable.  “Oh,  no,” said her oncologist team.  “This drug is amazing.  When it works,  it is  LIFE CHANGING.”  They even repeated that phrase, “Life Changing.”  It combats and destroys that cancer and gives many more years of life to the patient.

We decided to go for it.  We understood the decision for hospice.  Medically speaking, there was little hope and time was short.  It was important to get to a place where she could  be comfortable and cared for in a quiet and dignified environment.  The latest medication could work, but it was a long shot.

We met with a representative from Peppi’s Place and Michele was approved for admission – a room was available. 

-  2 PM  -

At 2 PM Michele was moved to an ambulance and transported to the hospice.  Meanwhile, the doctor had written a prescription for the drug and a search began.  This is not a drug that you run into the local Walgreen’s and purchase.  It is rarely used by the general public and extremely expensive.  About $5000 per bottle.  One bottle has 30 tablets for a one month supply.

The oncologist’s office started working on the insurance company.  They also contacted a pharmacy that is used to obtain the drug.  The pharmacy has an employee that works full time on getting drugs through the insurance company red tape.    I decided to contact the HR department at Michele’s work because I knew from past experience that they have some kind of rapport with the insurance company. 

First we found out that this drug is generally ordered by mail.  Secondly, it is a Level 1 drug requiring over-rides and pre-authorizations and all those other fancy terms that insurance companies use that actually mean, “we may not give you this drug even though your doctor has determined that you need it, and if  we do you will have to wait a week or so  while  we go round and round about it.”

-   3 PM  -

Within an hour I was told that the prescription was ready and that the insurance company was intending to waive all over-rides.  YES!  Now we were just looking for a place that had it in stock.  I found out that Michele’s boss had volunteered to drive all the way to Phoenix if necessary in order to get it.  I prayed that it  wouldn’t come to that.  I prayed that we would find it soon and find it close by.

-  4PM  -

Michele is getting settled in her room.  What a beautiful place!  A large private room with its own patio that opens out to a private courtyard with a fountain and bird feeders.  The staff is so caring – it’s quiet and peaceful here.  The reality of its reason for existence comes and goes.  Hard to absorb that, you know.  People come here to die – quietly and peacefully – without pain and suffering.  What a great place to prepare for  passing on – what a great service provided to the patient and to the caregivers.

There are several family members and friends in the room.  She is comfortable.  She is being pampered.  That’s good! 

-  5 PM  -

Well, actually at 5:20 pm I get a call.  I don’t recognize the number.  A lady asks for me and tells me that this is The Apothecary Shop.  She has been working on getting the drug all afternoon.  The store is  closing now, but . . . . . she is  holding a bottle of the meds.  She is also holding the store open, hoping that I can get there soon.  I ask where it is located.  It’s 5 minutes away from the hospice.  I got there in 5 minutes.  A few lights are on.   A man is mopping the floors with a strong, pleasant smelling disinfectant.   There is a smiling lady behind the counter.  “You must be Dan.   Here is the medication.  Insurance paid for it. There is only a deductible to pay.”  It was the first time I ever enjoyed paying a deductible.  $75 for a $5000 bottle of  pills.  God is so good.  And He used so many people – people we didn’t even know – who stepped up to the plate and fought diligently to get the medication tonight so that it could  be started immediately.  They understood the urgency and reached out for  someone else.  Thank you so much!!

-  7 PM  -

The first dosage of Tarceva was administered to Michele.  We pray that it works and strikes a deadly blow to the cancer. 

We need to ‘flunk out’ of hospice!!

1.      (initial capital letter) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.

 2.       an appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.

 3.     a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

 4.       a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.

In a way, I think this blog has become my Ninevah.  

Jonah ran from God and from Ninevah because he just flat out didn’t want to do what God said.   He did not  like Ninevah or the powerful, viscious, depraved people that lived there.  I think he felt that if he ran far enough away and hid, God  would have to destroy it like He had said He would.  Jonah knew in his heart that if he went and preached to Ninevah like he was told to do, God would  change His mind and spare it.  Jonah wanted to see it burn to a crisp.  He had already damned it in his own heart.

This blog is the diary of a deadly disease. 

I use it to:

A. report on the battle against the disease that is crippling my wife. 

B. reflect on each victory – no matter how small

C. be a beacon of Hope to others that have no hope.

D. all of the above

Most of the time the answer is D,  but lately I think I have been dwelling on A.   I guess I need to get back to basics here.

It just seems that I am staring at death all around me.  I know this sounds morbid but it is a reality for me  and I need to get a right perspective.  The reality is that cancer is a killer and the end result is usually death.  Medical treatment and divine intervention can change that, I know, and I really think that  God will intervene, but there still is that reality floating around out there.

My mother-in-law has complete renal failure.  She goes to dialysis three times a week and that is what is keeping her alive.  She is close to getting a kidney donation which could bring her life back to somewhat normal, but still the reality is out there.

My sister-in-law has a congenital issue that causes her spine  to grow shut, pinching off the nerves and the vital spinal fluid there.  She has had several surgeries, the latest lasting twelve straight hours and even then it did not  completely solve the issue.  She is facing more surgery.  The reality is out there.

Both my parents are elderly and in frail health.  The reality is out there.

And me?  I drive a car in Tucson.

So what is the perspective I need to grasp?  Well, it’s  about the passage from life to death.   I know, I know.  I know where I am going when I die and I know where each of them is going, but still, it’s a tough reality.  So what is it like?  One minute you’re here and the next minute you’re gone.  Gone where?  And how?  Did you ever think about it?  What is  the process like?  For the person who just left.

This morning, Sunday, Michele and I were able to go  to church for the first time in about three weeks.   Her health just wouldn’t let her make it until today.  She was still very weak but anxious to get to church and be part of the worship.

As usual, we were running a little late and I still had to let the dog out to do  his business before we left.  As I let him go out to the back yard, I had this sudden strong urge to write down a scenario that came into my mind.  There was no doubt that I was directed to write it down right now.   I grabbed a legal pad and started scribbling.  Fortunately, the dog took his sweet time doing his business and I was able to finish writing three pages of these thoughts that had flown into my head. 

What was it?  It was about death and what happens on the other side.  I had never thought of it this way before and what I had written was as new to me as it will be to anyone else who reads it.    But, it helped me.  I guess that’s what it was for.  I’d like to share it. 

So, here goes.

The Death of a Saint

by Dan Leeder

                   6:17:42pm

I’m sitting on my porch in the peaceful twilight of the desert watching the sun set over the distant mountains.  I was thinking back over my life and recalling how gracious God has  been to me.  Through downs and ups, outs and ins, sorrows and delight He has always been there. 

I know I made some mistakes but I did a lot of right things, too.  My kids all love Jesus and have taught their kids the same.  How much better does it get?

Now, my heart is frail, my breathing is labored, my aches have pains and my body won’t do what I want it to do.   My doctor said that there isn’t much holding me together, I could go in the blink of an eye.   But, shoot, he said that 20 years ago and again every year since.

                 6:18:04pm

As I sit here,  I feel a strange peace come over my body.   I hear, faintly, my name called in a whisper.    What? . . .  Who? 

My breath hesitates and I feel the jolt of pain in my heart. 

What is this?  What’s happening? 

My eyesight tunnels down to darkness.  I hear voices . . . .  the faint wail of a siren.  There are hands on my body . . . gentle, urgent hands.

                  6:18:07pm 

This is strange!  I feel myself  moving away from my body. 

Not up or  down  . . .  not any direction, really –  just  . . . .   away. 

I see everyone gathered around the figure slumped on the floor.  No one is moving  . . . .  time has stopped. 

At least for them.  I am still moving away and they all drift out of my view.

Now I feel myself rising,  higher and higher, faster and faster. 

There is no more pain, I feel my strength growing. 

There is no  anxiety,  just a deep peace. 

I feel younger, vital, energetic, warm  . . . . .  glowing.

Lights flash by – lights of many colors and intensities.  It’s like I’m passing through the universe at an incredible speed.

Look, I  recognize that planet.  All that I had learned in grade school so many years ago comes back and races through my mind with amazing clarity.

That’s Mars.    That’s Pluto – and . . . . yes, it  is a  planet!   

There’s Alpha Centauri, Betelgeuse, Andromeda.  I see the Milky Way from a different perspective – far, far outside it.

Things are new . . . .  but  yet . . . . . I feel  like I  know all about this.  They seem familiar.   New solar systems.   More planets.   Inhabited planets?

I see a glow – an intense glow in the distance.   Brighter than anything I have ever seen – but it doesn’t  hurt me or blind me  . . . . .  I’m attracted to it.   I’m heading straight towards it.

I’m closer to the light.  The brightness fills my vision – it fills my mind, my body – it warms my soul and yet, a breeze fans coolly over my face.

I see a huge city.  There are trees, mountains, rivers and countless angels are singing.   It’s more beautiful than anything I have ever seen or heard.

They’re clapping and,  . .  wait  . . . .  it’s not just angels, it’s  . . . . . .

it’s  people.    People, like me.    People I recognize . . ..  from my past  . . . . . from the history of Earth  . . . .  why, I realize that I know everyone.  Everyone!

They are all singing, clapping,  yelling, chanting, smiling,  waving . . . .  at me.  They are looking at me!     It’s the Welcome Committee!

I’m speeding to the center of the light.  Suddenly, it fills my awareness  . . .  it’s all around me  . . . .  everything else recedes.

There  . . .  near the middle  . . . .  no, it’s the center, the Source. 

It’s  the Light itself.

There stands Jesus with His arms outstretched  . . . .  towards me!!

Now I feel the increased warmth of the Light.    I am more comfortable than I have ever been.

Suddenly I  realize I am in the arms of Jesus and He is  holding me close.

Nothing else matters.

I’m home!

  ___________

               6:18:07pm

              “I’m sorry.  He’s gone.  We did everything we could.”

Thank you, Lord.  We asked for it — we got it.

Michele developed a severe pain in her right shoulder on Saturday and it has not  let up.  The pain medication reduces the intensity a bit, but only a bit.  She is not able to use that arm very much at all and that kind of cramps her style.  As usual, she doesn’t complain about  it, but I can see it in her eyes, and it’s obvious that she is favoring that arm. 

Today she woke up very nauseated (and along with that the accompanying result of nausea).  She was scheduled for a CAT scan at 7:30 this morning, but couldn’t even drag herself out of bed.  However, she was able to go back to sleep and when she awakened a few hours later, she felt much better.  No nausea,  but the pain remains in her arm.  Her CAT scan is rescheduled for tomorrow, Wednesday,  at 7:30am. 

My concern is that she has her third chemotherapy coming up on Friday.  This is the time when she should be at her best because the chemo is going to pull her down — way down.   Well, it will pull her down physically.  Of course,  I am praying that she will regain the energy that she had before this week and that she will feel relief from the pain in her shoulder so that she can better weather the “storm” of the chemo drugs.  Whatever happens, I know that she will not only face the “storm” head-on as usual, but will rise above it. 

 Isaiah 40:31

But those who hope in the LORD
       will renew their strength.
       They will soar on wings like eagles;
       they will run and not grow weary,
       they will walk and not be faint.

Speaking of Eagles

Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks?   It will fly high and wait for the winds to come.  When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm.  

Isn’t that remarkable?   While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above.   It does not escape the storm.   It uses the storm to lift it higher.   It rises on the winds that bring the storm. What an extraordinary way to deal with adversity!

Here is something to think about. When the eagle flies above the storm, he is in a sense overcoming it.  But he does so in a most interesting way. He uses the strength of the storm to rise above it.  Then he can rest his wings and soar. 

When the storms of life come we, too, can rise above them.   The storms do not have to overcome us any more than they overcome the eagle.  We can allow God’s power to lift us above them.