Post Number Thirty-Six

(Note: Terry's surgery was canceled and rescheduled for October 11.  We took the opportunity to move her parents to a new place in Petoskey.  Here is the story.)

AN ADVENTURE IN MOVING

In 1984 Terry and I packed up the kids (Carl, age 5 and Mary, age 1) and hauled them off to Illinois.  Terry drove our car with Mary in the infant car seat and J.S. Bark the family beagle curled up within the tiny space not packed with boxes and luggage.  I drove a U-HAUL truck packed to the gills.  Carl rode with me in the truck.  We pulled a U-HAUL trailer behind. We called it our adventure in moving.  We were off to start a new life in a new place with a new job.  None of that worked out the way we had hoped.  By 1989 we were back in Michigan and life proceeded in what has turned out to be an unexpected but blessed direction.

That whole moving scene came back to me this past week.  On Friday we packed up Terry's parents and moved them to an assisted living place in Petoskey.  Terry drove our car with her parents as passengers and our present dog, Copper, curled up in her crate surrounded by bags and boxes of their possessions.  I drove a U-HAUL truck packed full.  Carl rode with me along with his dog, Moose, a Belgium Shepherd, sitting in the jump seat in the cab of the truck.  

I was struck by the similarities and the differences of the two moves.  In 1984 we were a young married couple with little kids heading off to a new future with high hopes and more than a little anxiety.  Now we are in our sixties.  We have been married for 37 years.  Our kids are married adults and our care giving is directed toward Terry's parents who are no longer capable of caring for themselves. This move was was not to a new future but rather to a tolerable present.  This move was less about hope and more about coping.  This time the goal was to get her parents resettled quickly so that we could get back for Terry's surgery on Monday.

Two moves with comical and superficial similarities.  Two moments of transition and two different stages in life.  The real continuity resides not in the U-HAUL rental or in the packed vehicles or in the dogs.  The real continuity resides in our commitment to one another through all of the transitions, hopes and disappointments in life.  That is the real Adenture In Moving. 

Post Number Thirty-Five

Through The Fog

Recently, during my morning walk along the St. Clair River,  I witnessed a spectacular moment as the rising sun cut through the morning fog behind the Blue Water Bridge.  I failed to capture the full impact of the sight as the progress of the sun exceeded my capacity to get the shot on my phone camera.  Never the less, I was witness to the power of the sun to cut through the thickest fog and and transform the day from one of gloom to one of promise.

How I wish I possessed a similar capacity.  Today we wait to travel to Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit.  Tomorrow Terry will undergo surgery to remove 1/3 of her liver and eliminate the metastasized recurrence of her previous tumor.  I am living in a fog of dread.  Most likely all will go well and we will be beyond this and into recovery by tomorrow night.  But for the moment I know only the fear that something new will be discovered and our hoped for extended lives without cancer might not occur. 

I wait for the sun of good news to cut through this fog of gloom and announce a new and glorious day.

Dave Gladstone

Post Number Thirty-Four

We Fall Down We Get Up

That did not last very long.  Last week it was discovered that Terry's cancer has come back as a spot on her liver.  Yesterday she underwent a needle biopsy to determine if it is malignant.  It most certainly is.  Dr. Cox tried to be be reassuring with us.  He still used "cure" language.  He is recommending that we see a liver surgeon at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit.  We cannot get there fast enough.

At the moment Terry feels great.  She loves her new job at Lake Louise.  She is many pounds lighter than she was when her cancer was first discovered more than a year ago.  She is stronger than she has been in years because of the walking discipline we have taken on.  If this is operable, as we pray that it will be, she is likely to have an easier time of it than before.  Never the less, we are stunned that the disease should show up so soon.  It was not there in June.  It is there today.  My words that "there are no guarantees" were not intended to be tested so quickly.

The day that we received this news I asked Terry what was going through her mind.  She answered that she was thinking of the song recorded by Bob Carlisle - We Fall Down We Get Up.  I made that the focus of my sermon last Sunday.  A recording of the sermon is posted on my podcast page.  This was fighting language from Terry and it made my heart sing.  It demonstrated that she is ready to do battle with this disease in a way that she could not muster the first time through.  What lifts us up is the grace of God transmitted through our church, our friends and our family.  I love the last line of the chorus to the song, "A saint is just a sinner who falls down and gets up."

So here we go again.  The battle resumes.  We have had time to regroup and regain strength.  There is still reason for optimism.  I'll keep you posted.

Dave Gladstone

Sermon: We Fall Down We Get Up

Post Number Thirty-Three

Terry's New Job

Vacation is over for me.  I came home on July 24 to resume my duties at First UMC of Port Huron.  Terry remained at the cottage on Lake Louise and began her new job as program developer at the Lake Louise Christian Community Camp and Retreat Center.  

I could mope around about how this was just a plot on her part to live at the cottage and extend her vacation.  I am quite sure she does not mind that unexpected benefit to her new situation. However, this new position is also the most recent and surest indication of her return to health and vigor.  Terry has a new job.

A year ago last month her diagnosis plunged us into a year of sickness; a year in which nothing could escape the grip of cancer and the treatments and surgery the disease brought upon us.  It was like an unwelcome and vile visitor intruding into our space and demanding all of our attention.  That visitor no longer lives in our house.  There are no guarantees that it will never return, but it was gone yesterday and it is not here today, and I do not expect it tomorrow.  For that entire year Terry's job was to be sick and endure the effects of the treatment.

Now Terry has a new job.  It is a job that encourages creativity and requires that she envision a bright future. It is a job where the focus is upon creating a space where others can encounter the holy and be nurtured in their faith. Praise God.

Post Number Thirty-Two

 SILENCE ALWAYS RECLAIMS ITS SPACE

Lessons brought back from vacation:  There are a couple of new boats on our beloved Lake Louise.  They are fast and powerful boats designed to pull water skiers, and designed to draw as much attention to the event as possible.  I do not begrudge the owners of these boats the thrill of speed and power.  I can still remember a time in my own life when speed and power seemed like the only worthy summer aspirations.  Just because I am now determined to embrace my geezerdom and puts around the lake on a humble pontoon boat I do not expect everyone else to follow my lead.

These boats are equipped with powerful audio speakers mounted on an arched rack and pointed back at the skier in tow.  I never thought about it before, but I can image how difficult it is to hear your favorite rock band over the roar of a muffler-less engine and the slam of skies against the water at thirty-five miles per hour.  I thought about this as I walked more than a half mile south of the lake and I could feel the bass beat from the speakers as I walked along Thumb Lake Road.  I thought about it again a week later as I tried to conduct an evening vesper service at the camp just as one of these boats roared by during a moment of silent prayer.  It is remarkable how spiritually charged junior high boys get at the sight of one of these boats.

If your goal is to declare your dominance over nature and announce to the entire community that you are now out on the lake and everyone should take notice, you cannot do better than one of these boats. They are designed to make an audacious display of presence.  One cannot be ignored when you are riding in or skiing behind one of these boats.  For the time it takes to run through a tank of gas one can imagine that the lake belongs to you and your particular idea of fun.  Those in kayaks and canoes might just as well pack it in. 

I have noticed something.  This audacity cannot be sustained.  The gas always runs out.  The light always fades.  The wake always subsides. The boat always goes back on the hoist.  What fools we are to think that creation takes note of our presence.  We are but a noisy flash.  When we are finished or just plain exhausted silence always reclaims its space.

Dave Gladstone