Dear Friends,

I have been truly touched by the many expressions of love and care and hope that have been conveyed to me over the past couple of weeks by the people of the churches and agencies I have served and by other friends.  I am so grateful for all who hold me in their prayers and for all who have connected with me.  These strengthen my resolve to meet this challenge and prevail, by God’s grace.

I wish that I could reply to each one individually this week, but since there are so many, I felt that it was best for now to write this one letter. Early this week I began radiation and chemotherapy. I expect some rather harsh side effects, and do not know if I shall be able to do the things I want to do, such as correspondence for a few weeks. (Among the least challenging side effect, by the way, for me will be the loss of hair.)

My attitude is rather positive. I already experience God’s redemptive reach into this crisis of mine, as I am able to review more clearly the blessings of my life: the wonderful people whom God has given me (Delza, Jerilyn, Meliza, and Nathan, and now Sarah and the grandchildren Magic and Lukas), my family of origin, my extended family, my wonderful in-laws,  and my friends in and out of churches; the jobs I have had (imagine getting paid to deal with ultimate things and to care for people!); the very rich standard of living compared to most of the people of the world, which has enabled me to learn, to cross cultures, to engage mission, to do nice things, and lots more; and the almost 64 years, not a meager amount, which has allowed an abundance of lovely experiences. 

This is also a time of review of the shadow side of things: the downfailings , inadequacies, and sins, bringing to them healthy remorse, leaning into that Gospel of forgiveness by a loving, embracing, and enjoying God. Jesus stands with me in the imaging which I use for prayers for healing of body and soul. God is close, and still, there is that awareness of Mystery. 

They say that my cancer is extensive. Some doctors were grim. Recently the doctors who will administer the treatments seem more positive for good things to happen, the extent of which we do not know right now. I am going with these positive ones. At the same time that I really expect good things to happen to overcome or limit the disease (and hope that you will stay with me and pray with me on that), I also remember a church secretary’s saying of faith in God while facing the unknown: “No matter what happens, it’ll be OK.”

Delza sends her love. She has been such a power for good during this time, but then, you know that already, for you know her.

One evening a few years back, I discovered on the refrigerator door of a woman afflicted with cancer the following brief item cut from a magazine. It has become one of the pieces I love to read from time to time, for it represents how I want to feel and how I usually feel about all of this.

What Cancer Cannot Do:

Cancer is So Limited

It cannot cripple love;
It cannot shatter hope;
It cannot corrode faith;
It cannot destroy peace;
It cannot kill friendship;
It cannot suppress memories;
It cannot silence courage;
It cannot invade the soul;
It cannot steal eternal life;
It cannot conquer the spirit.

                                                                                   
In faith,

 

PS: If you could place this on the bulletin board, I would appreciate it. I do not presume that this would be read publicly, for it is long. This disease has effected my voice; hence, if I ever preach again, until the voice comes back, the sermons will need to be brief. (A boon to many a congregation, I am told.) Obviously, however, it has not effected the length of my writings. Sorry.