Traveling the Wide-Open Driveway

For as long as I can remember, I have had a burning desire to take a trip in an RV. Or at least sleep in one. I think it stems from the fond childhood memories I have of road trips with my mom and dad and three siblings. We took car trips to Colorado, Canada, Niagara Falls, and Florida to name a few, in our un-air-conditioned Oldsmobile. My younger sister on my mom’s lap in the front seat and my older brother and sister and I in the back seat with my feet propped up on a cooler full of Hawaiian Punch, Fritos, Twinkies, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. With no cell phones or tablets to distract us, we sang songs, played games, and talked to each other. Or just looked out the open windows with the hot wind blowing in our hair and wondered what the swimming pool was going to look like at the motel we were headed for. It was so simple and so fun. Unfortunately, I was unable to find anyone else in my family who shared this camper craze. So, I have lived a very unfulfilled RV life. Until last Saturday. As my 70th birthday was creeping up, the kids asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate. It dawned on me that this was my golden opportunity to fulfill my dream. I asked if we could find an RV and park it in the driveway for a night and pretend we were camping at the Grand Canyon. And that’s just what happened. (See the pics.) For 24 hours I traveled the wide-open driveway, rather than the highway. I introduced my grandkids to a house on wheels. (They thought it was amazing!) And I finally slept in an RV. Well kind of. Let’s just say the reality of sleeping in an RV didn’t quite match up with my fantasy. I ended up in my own bed but with a big smile on my face and an imaginary twinkie on my nightstand. Joan ...

The Equalizer

Hello again from Cancerland. My husband now has three of the eight prescribed chemo treatments under his belt. The only hiccup so far has been when treatment was postponed last week. His bloodwork came back abnormal indicating that his liver wasn’t so crazy about all of this. It’s an added level of frustration when you get psyched up for treatment day only to be sent home. It’s all in our best interest though. It’s affirmation that we are being taken good care of and sometimes that good care includes waiting. In fact, if I had to come up with a tagline for Cancerland brochures, it would be “Hurry up and Wait!” There is a lot of waiting and a lot of waiting rooms. Those waiting rooms aren’t just a place to work on puzzles and snack on assorted vending machine goodies. There is a lot to learn there. The biggest lesson I have learned so far from my time in the waiting room is that cancer is the great equalizer. Cancer doesn’t care who you are, where you live, what kind of clothes you wear, what color your skin is, or how old you are. In those waiting rooms everyone is on an equal playing field. We have found common ground with each other. We are complete strangers randomly put together for a short period of time, yet there is an unspoken bond. The same bond that we are reminded of in Romans 12:5, “So in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” This sense of solidarity is a hallmark of a truly Spirit-led life. On the spiritual journey there comes a time when the Spirit convicts us that it is not us and them anymore. There are no strangers. There are no lines of demarcation that separate us from each other. From this awareness comes a new found sense of responsibility and compassion. We really are our brother’s (sister’s) keeper. Too bad it seems to take some kind of trial or disaster to get that point across. It’s in those moments of vulnerability that the Spirit can reach us and soften our hearts to the fact that we are all part of one body, and when one part of that body is broken or sick, we all become caretakers in one way or another. We can’t and shouldn’t ignore that truth. Next time you’re waiting somewhere, whether...

Plans

This week we met with the medical oncologist who will be our Cancerland tour guide. He spelled out, in great detail, our itinerary for the coming months. We start with some educational sessions to equip us with all we need to know about side effects of chemotherapy, what to be on the lookout for, and how to alleviate some of the discomfort. Then we move on to the port. No, not a bustling harbor on a scenic coastline. A chemo port. A long-term access point for chemotherapy, blood draws, and IV fluids. And then finally, the treatments. Four cycles of two weeks on, one week off of the chemo/immunotherapy. It’s a full itinerary that will keep us busy for most of the summer. Sounds like a plan. It’s comforting to have a plan but at the same time, it’s not the kind of planning I’m used to. I’ve always been a planner. I think ahead and try to anticipate needs and address them. I don’t like surprises. I like to have things under control. In Cancerland, I get the feeling there are surprises around every corner and that has me a bit unsettled. I’m not sure what to anticipate, so no amount of pre-planning will cover all the bases. There is a plan, but it’s a bit precarious compared to the plans I usually make. I woke very early this morning as is my routine these days, so I went on the Hallow app I have on my phone in hopes of finding some prayer or meditation that would put me back to sleep. I noticed, for the first time, on the menu of options, a group of prayer sessions called PLANS. I clicked on it and went to a meditation that incorporated a beautiful prayer at the end, using various promises and truths from God’s word. God’s promise in Jeremiah really hit home. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:11-13 We have the plan now from our Cancerland tour guide, which is comforting, but we also have the promise of an even better plan from God that brings the ultimate comfort....

Cancerland

God has wasted no time in letting me know I am not alone as I accompany my husband on a trip to Cancerland. Through the many supportive and kind texts and emails I have received, God has brought me such comfort and assurance in a most unsure time. One of those texts was from a friend who has been on a similar cancer journey with her husband for years. They call this place they are in “Cancerland.” That makes sense to me. With the initial diagnosis, the results of the pathology report, and the reality of what treatment is going entail, it feels like you have entered a foreign land. A place you have never been before. A place where everything is so different than what you have been used to.  And you get a strong feeling you won’t be leaving anytime soon. But I’m finding that, like Disneyland, Cancerland has its magical moments too. I’ve felt them already. And I know who is behind them. Shortly after we found out Ron had cancer, I got to spend some time in the backyard with our granddaughter, Alice, on a road trip in her Cozy-Coupe. We stopped along the way to admire some colorful ceramic mushrooms. My daughter snapped the above photo. That streak of faded light above us gave me a moment of pause and comfort. I don’t think we were alone. A magical moment. Last Monday afternoon, we were scheduled to meet with the surgeon to receive the pathology report on the biopsies. That morning I went to fill the bird feeder and was stopped in my tracks when I saw a spotted fawn sleeping in the hostas next to the screened-in porch. It stayed there all day, right next to my rocking chair. I spent hours just sitting there watching it. We often made eye contact. It brought me such a feeling of calm. The fawn was gone when we returned from the appointment and hasn’t been back since. (See below) A magical moment. I want to stay open to these moments when belief takes over reasoning, when trust makes way for belief, and when love allows trust. I’m going to let God’s love come to life through the magical moments, and let the experiences of that love fuel my trust that Cancerland might just be ...

Unwelcome Visitor

I have ants in my pants. Literally. Our attic-turned-closet, my closet, was invaded by unwelcomed visitors last week. I went to hang up my clothes at the end of the day and when I turned on the light, there were two giant clusters of large, black carpenter ants hanging from the spray foam insulation on the ceiling. I ran to get my husband and when we returned five minutes later, the ants were gone except for one much smaller cluster. They disappeared back into their hide-away somewhere in the recesses of the attic. Except for a few stragglers, you wouldn’t even know what potential destruction was jeopardizing the life of our house. The next few days were spent trying to figure out where they came from, how big is the colony, how long have they been there, have they spread to other parts of the house, and most importantly, formulating a treatment plan to get rid of them for good. The ants aren’t the only unwelcomed visitor that showed up without warning last week. My husband was diagnosed with cancer. The ant infiltration became, for me, a poignant visual of the unexpected arrival of something that potentially could cause great harm. Something that has been lurking undetected, then just shows up and demands your full attention. You can’t ignore it or wish it away. You have to face it and with the help of experts, devise a plan to get rid of it. Until it’s gone, you can’t really rest, which makes it mentally and physically exhausting. So, we begin the journey to healing and health. I didn’t know if I wanted to blog about this. It’s still very new, and it’s very personal, but I’ve always used my life’s experiences as the focus of my blogs and this should be no different. There is much power in sharing our stories, good and bad. True healing can happen when we share our stories. Healing for me and maybe for some of you. I’ll keep you posted as this journey to exterminate the unwelcomed visitor progresses. Oh, and I’ll let you know how the ant situation ends up. I don’t know much about how to get rid of them. But one thing I do know, it’s no picnic. (Haha) Joan...

Let Go

Life is funny. Last week, as I mentioned in my blog, I got to accompany our granddaughter, June, to the Betty Brinn Museum with her classmates. This week, I got to accompany my husband to the emergency room. Three times. More tests are needed in the coming weeks, but he is doing fine. I wish I could say the same. When unexpected things like this happen, it really sends my sense of being in control, out of control. It’s a powerful reminder of how precarious life is and how ridiculous it is to think we have control. That control impulse is developed early in life. It doesn’t take long before we falsely believe that everything depends on us. Our sense of safety and security depends on how well we can plan for and manage the unpredictability of life. This coping mechanism takes root to ensure that nothing will hurt us, but it also ensures us a straight path away from the peace that God intends for us. A peace that only comes if we can resign ourselves to the reality that life will more often than not, play out contrary to our expectations, hopes, and desires. In the words of renowned French Catholic priest and author, Fr. Jacques Philippe, “The surest way to lose one’s peace is to try and assure one’s own life.” In his writings, he emphasizes that true peace is a gift from God that cannot be taken away by external disruptions, as long as we maintain trust in God. Easier said than done. For all of us control freaks, this might sound impossible. If the thought of giving up all control has your palms sweating, I have a suggestion that should assuage you. It sounds contradictory, but I think the first step to letting go of control is realizing there are some things we CAN control. We have control over our choices and our attitude. We can work at adopting an attitude of acceptance of life’s unpredictability, and choose to loosen our grip and begin to trust and surrender even just a little. Look for situations this week, where you can let go. Trust that you are not alone and that each small step of release will bring a bucket load of freedom and peace. Joan...

Touchstone

This past week I had the privilege of chaperoning our granddaughter June’s K4 class on a field trip to the Betty Brinn Children’s museum. Bouncing around on that bus brought back memories of field trips with my own kids to the pumpkin farm and the annual end-of-the -year field trip to Kiddieland, an amusement park in Chicago, when I was in grade school. There’s nothing like that quasi-queasy, spine-jolting feeling you get on a ride in a yellow school bus. Why is it that we can engineer a spacecraft to take astronauts to the far side of the moon and invent driverless cars, but no one seems to be able to come up with what it takes to give adults a comfortable ride on a school bus? As I was focusing on the horizon to keep my breakfast down and numbing myself to the five- minute repetitive chant of “BREW-ERS, BREW-ERS, BREW-ERS” as we were passing Am-Fam field, I felt a little hand touch mine. June, who was sitting in the seat in front of me with her two best buddies, reached around for my hand. In the midst of this chaotic, out of the ordinary, exciting adventure, she felt the need for something familiar. She needed something to feel grounded and secure. A touchstone. What does it mean to be a touchstone for someone? According to Google: Being someone’s touchstone means acting as their primary standard of value, stability, or truth, often serving as a grounding influence that defines their reality or quality of life. As a trusted reference point you represent reliability and a secure connection to their values or memories, helping them gauge authenticity and remain focused amidst chaos. As a touchstone for someone, you are a benchmark against which others measure or evaluate their decisions. You help them feel secure and grounded in a fast-paced or chaotic world. You provide a true perspective, helping them distinguish what is real and worthwhile. You embody a significant, positive memory or a core value (like love, honesty or resilience) that they hold dear. Your presence reveals the “true color” or best potential in a person’s life. For most people, their first touchstone is their mother. When life gets hard, confusing, or scary, mom is there. But moms sometimes disappoint and moms aren’t there forever. We need to cultivate a forever touchstone. So, on this day when we celebrate mothers of all kinds, let’s say a prayer of...

Take a Good Look

The unexamined life is not worth living. That famous dictum is attributed to Socrates and according to Wikipedia, it means that “life lacking self-reflection, critical inquiry, and examination of one’s own beliefs and actions is not truly human or worth living, as it lacks purpose, wisdom and virtue and this is significant because it emphasizes the belief that continuous learning, introspection, and questioning of one’s own assumptions are necessary to achieve fulfillment and truth.” I’d like to take liberties with these words of Socrates, and add that the same can be said for a spiritual life. An unexamined spiritual life isn’t necessarily “not worth living” but it’s certainly, not what God has in mind. It’s in the examining of our everyday moments that we discover the very real presence of God. In his book, Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton says, “The spiritual life is first of all a life. It is not merely something to be known and studied, it is to be lived.” To really live a spiritual life, we need to become aware of and open to, the grace-filled moments in our daily lives when God’s presence is undeniable. The spiritual practice of examining our day with a focus on discovering God’s presence was the subject at this week’s “Keeping Spirituality Alive” series at Firstfruits.  In the words of Fr. Dennis Hamm, SJ, we were taught how to “rummage for God.”  He says, "Rummaging for God is an expression that suggests going through a drawer full of stuff, feeling around, looking for something that you’re sure must be in there somewhere." I think that’s the doorway to keeping our spiritualty alive. Believing and acknowledging that God IS in our daily lives, somewhere, and letting that knowledge motivate us to regularly examine just where. The picture above was the presence of God in my yesterday. A simple moment of delight with two of my grandbabies. I see it that way now, because my eyes are open and I believe. There was a day when that moment wasn’t God, it was simply babysitting. “The ‘eye,’ which opens to His presence, is in the very center of our humility, in the very heart of our freedom, in the very depths of our spiritual nature.”       Thomas Merton Joan Click here to read more about the "Keeping Spirituality Alive" series at Firstfruits. Click here to go to the Registration Page to sign up for "Keeping Spirituality Alive" or other Firstfruits events....

Overflowing Boundaries

Last Wednesday morning, for just a few hours, the otherwise serene and subdued Firstfruits space was transformed into a dance floor, a theater stage, and a playground. It became a place where we could overflow our boundaries. And boy did it feel good! They say we are made in God’s image and likeness. We often think of that image and likeness with a seriousness. I believe that image and likeness also has a childlike component to it. Born in all of us is a naivete and curiosity towards life. A simplicity and an openness. There is a wellspring of joy that bubbles in us. These childlike attributes are essentials for living the abundant life God wants for us. The naivete and curiosity keep us learning and risking. The simplicity and openness enable us to see the good in people, places, and things. And the wellspring of joy is pure gift from God that when expressed, becomes contagious. It has a healing ripple effect. Unfortunately, as we grow older, we put boundaries around this part of God’s image and likeness. It’s still there, but it’s boxed up and replaced by the more responsible and adultlike attributes.  Naivete becomes a sign of weakness.  Curiosity loses out to intellect. Worrying has replaced wondering.  A simple life is seen as a lazy, unproductive life. We’ve traded openness for judgment, which makes it harder and harder to see the good. And that wellspring of joy stays buried deep, destined for no one. I’m convinced that the antidote to all the sadness and angst we are feeling these days in response to the craziness in the world is to let out the light, the levity, and the love that we keep bound up. The way to do that is to overflow our boundaries once in a while. Do something that puts you back in contact with the God-child in you. If you are at a loss as to what that might be, here’s a suggestion from our time together last week. Just simply smile and raise your arms above your head for a minute. You’ll be amazed at how good it feels. Joan...

The Cross

I mentioned last week that I was helping our son and daughter-in-law move into their new house. This family of five was living in a one-bathroom house with three girls, so needless to say, it was time to make a change. The real estate market being as it is, it took a lot of time and patience to find something that checked the boxes and didn’t leave them bankrupt. They say good things come to those who wait. This house hunt proved that saying to be true. Patience and a big dose of divine intervention brought them to their new house. The house they found was home to a group of nuns for the last 35 years. Needless to say, it was well maintained and spotlessly clean. One of the movers said it was the cleanest bathrooms he had ever seen. Did you notice I said bathrooms? They now have three! There were lots of interesting and fun things about the house. What made us smile the most was when we saw the shadow of a cross on the wall in one of the bedrooms. (See pic above.) As we begin Holy Week, our minds instinctively go to the cross. It’s interesting to me how the image of a cross affects us. You can’t look at a cross and have no reaction. For some, it represents hope and brings feelings of love and gratitude. Others, it might cause feelings of shame and sadness. To some, it represents division among people and brings with it feelings of anger and confusion. Whatever the reaction, the cross makes us dive deep into where we are in our relationship with God. That’s a good place to be this week. Take some time to reflect on what the cross means to you. Joan...