2 Corinthians 9:15

Today we heard that our donor is a 32-year old man from Europe. We may never know more than this, depending on what country he is from, but we already know that when asked to donate bone marrow instead of stem cells, he agreed without reservation.

This wonderfully caring man will be giving us an amazing and very humbling gift in December and we are truly thankful. He is part of our family now.

Just after we received this information, Norm's daily Bible promise popped up on his email and once again we were blessed. Our God is a personal God and He restores my faith constantly. I love it when things like this happen.

2 Corinthians 9:15 - Give thanks to God for His indescribable gift.

It was a blessed and glorious day.

 

(From our walk along the river today between appointments. Just beautiful.)

Conflicting thoughts

The last month has been a strange one. 
Feelings of devastation and pure joy.
Tears of grief and tears of happiness and tears of sadness once again. 
Family that falls apart and family that comes together.

As the American Thanksgiving holiday approaches we have started on the round of pre-transplant appointments with a scheduled admission date of December 4th. It is a little scary and it has been an emotional roller coaster getting to this point. 

We have a new donor - a mismatch but an incredibly caring and generous unknown "family member" who has offered to give Norm a chance to beat this leukemia and we are SO grateful to him or her. And yet there is conflict when I think of the "real family" member match who, at the last moment, refused to give this gift of life. We've flip-flopped back and forth, trying to forgive, trying to understand and finally, trying to let go. We will hold onto the hope that our "new family member" offers.

Two weeks ago we had visitors. They came from England, Canada, Bermuda and Boston. Some stayed 10 days, some stayed just 2 days. Our children, our daughter-in-law, our parents, our nephew and our new 1 month old granddaughter all crowded into our apartment at various times during the week. It was WONDERFUL to have both of our children and our grandchild in the same place - it's been a long time since we were all together and it was very, very special for Norm to be with his family in this way.
And when they all left again we cried - but are thankful that there is technology that lets us speak to everyone - and see them - as often as we all can.

This last week has been a media bombardment of sadness and conflict - conflict in countries and conflict about how to show solidarity and compassion for those countries. Sometimes there's just too much going on and you have to pull back from it. Or find other images to fill your head.

Peaceful images. Babies and beaches and autumn leaves and summer reflections. Reminders that God is always present; that He has everything under control.

As much as we might like to, we can't change the whole world. We can't make cancer go away or acts of violence cease. We can't save every child or rescue every animal. On our own we can't remove sin from this world. 

But we can do our small part, in our place, in our way, every day. We can live in the present and make it the best that we can. We can practise kindness. We can be thankful for every blessing, no matter how small and we can look for ways to share God's love. 

And we can give thanks with a grateful heart for all that He has done.

Hurricane baby

Last week we got the go-ahead to come home for two weeks. After a particularly challenging month of things going wrong, of struggling to figure out why Norm was losing the use of his arms, of worrying about a relapse, of seeing all our transplant dates cancelled because of a delay... we flew home.

Norm still needs help dressing and washing but things are slowly improving.

 I'm trying to be calm about the fact that he may need to repeat a cycle of the drug that has caused this side effect; I'm trying not to stress out about the transplant delay; I'm trying to remain thankful and count my blessings.

It has been very difficult at times but this week I gained a new perspective.

On October 4th the island got hit with a hurricane. 

During the storm, I emailed my son to let him know that he might not be able to reach us with baby news - our first grandchild was on the way! - if we lost power or internet access. Our internet went down shortly after that.

It came on again late that night. 

Just in time for the video chat call from England at midnight introducing us to Elizabeth Joy, 6 pounds 9 ounces.

Elizabeth Joy. We don't know her yet. We haven't held her. We've only seen her on a tiny screen and seen photos of her. 

My cousin sent this comment to me when he heard the news.

"God works in mysterious ways. Brings a hurricane with all its destructive force and then restores your internet so you can see the wonderful gift He's given your family! "

And he's right. 

Elizabeth Joy is an affirmation. 

A reminder that God is in charge and that in the middle of the storms of life - both literal and figurative - wonderful things happen!

Optimism

I saw a post from a friend on Facebook today and went to the link out of curiosity - here it is below:

An optimistic brain


I think this is pretty interesting and it explains a lot about my husband!!
He must have an enormous orbitofrontal cortex in his brain!

"Adults who have large OFCs tend to be more optimistic and less anxious."
That's my Norm, for sure.

This week has been a trial as he has increasingly lost mobility in his left arm and has begun to lose mobility in his right arm - to the point where yesterday there was a plaintive cry from the kitchen,
"I can't get a bowl out of the cupboard."

I hear the phrase, "Can you help me?" more and more these days as he struggles to get dressed, washed, lift things... but through it all there's a smile on his face and even an eyebrow waggle at times! :)

Optimism leads to hopefulness. I'm glad his brain is wired the way it is!

And I'm glad there's a God who was able to create us in such a way that we have this amazing brain feature.

Feeling optimistic today - with God's help I'd like to grow my own OFC!!

Another Time

I have to admit that this past week has been rather depressing and decidedly weepy. Too many changes in too short a time and a situation that I have no control over whatsoever - plus an unanticipated delay - was very stressful.

But yesterday felt better. First it was the Sabbath, which is always a rest day. Secondly, I played praise music all day - the uplifting, sing along even if you can't hold a tune type of music. 

Norm and I went to church, then to the hospital for the pump change (where I realized I had forgotten his shirt so no change of clothes yesterday - poor guy!) and then home for naps (Norm) and FaceTime chat (me).

And more music.

And then in our evening reading I found this:

But the change can be made. Their happiness, both for this life and for the life to come, depends upon their fixing their minds upon cheerful things. Let them look away from the dark picture, which is imaginary, to the benefits which God has strewn in their pathway, and beyond these to the unseen and eternal. – – MH 247.3

Ellen G. White wrote those words a long time ago but they are pretty pertinent to me today.

I have a habit of running ahead, planning for things that haven't happened, trying to solve problems that may never happen, so busy worrying about the future that the present vanishes without appreciation.

Norm must have paid attention yesterday because he emailed this passage to me so it was waiting for me first thing in the morning :) AND there was music playing when I woke up!

My favorite song from yesterday is posted below. I have fixed my mind on another time - and will keep it there.

The little things in life..

We had Sabbath lunch down by the river today. 

There were lots of sailboats and kayaks and paddle boards; 

a gondola floated by; 

the cutest spaniel jumped in and out of the river chasing a ball; 

there were bikers and runners and walkers and a "hammock-er".

And there were geese.

Canada geese. Lots of them. Walking, honking, flapping, swimming and bobbing.

And making me laugh.

It was a good day.

Morning Thoughts

I woke up this morning and lay in bed for a while remembering how this whole journey started over a year and a half ago.
I remember seeing the small bruises and suggesting that we get them checked at emergency "just in  case" since they had popped up so strangely and were still popping up.
I remember hearing the doctor in the emergency room come back with blood tests that showed a 25,000 WBC and tell us he was admitting Norm.
I remember being told they were going to do a bone marrow biopsy to check for leukemia. 
I distinctly remember telling a co-teacher that there was no way it could be that!!
I remember the call from the hospital asking me to come over.
I remember walking in on a room full of doctors and social workers.
I remember the long involved explanation that ended in the words acute lymphoblastic leukemia. "We've called the air ambulance. We need you to go pack and bring your passports back in an hour."
I remember following the doctor out of the room and saying, "What if he doesn't want chemo?" and the doctor looking at me in shock and then saying, "He'll be dead in three weeks."
I remember going down the stairs of the hospital toward the car and my phone ringing on the stairwell.
I remember hearing my sister's voice and then getting that gut-wrenching blow to the stomach that I'd read about in books so many times and never really understood. I remember sinking onto the steps and gasping and I remember hearing her say, "Do NOT get in the car. I'll be right there."
I remember our prayer warriors from church marching in that night at about 11 p.m., long past visiting hours, and surrounding Norm in prayer.
I remember seeing my daughter's face as the ambulance took us away.

I don't know why I thought of all this again this morning. I woke with the pictures and feelings spinning through me again and had to struggle to get it all under control.

We will go home for two weeks at the end of this cycle; Norm is in remission for a second time and we have a perfectly matched sibling donor; our doctor has said to enjoy this month and the two weeks we will have at home.
Today I found a list of appointments for consults with radiation specialists and transplant specialists and suddenly it all hit me again - I have no idea what's coming our way!!

And so I prayed and I cried a little again and I thought of all the good things that have happened in my life - and the joyful times that continue to happen even as we go through all this. 
And I thought of all the people in this world going through their own trials - many of whom are far worse off than I am - and I remembered the first four lines of a poem:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

William Blake wrote these lines in Auguries of Innocence. We had to learn the whole poem years ago in school and these are the only lines I remember.

I think this is what people mean when they say "live one day at a time".
We only have the present moment - and it's both infinite and eternal.
And God promises an infinite, eternal new world and heaven someday. 

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away."