Cowboy Carl

One of my favorite authors is Anne Lamott. Her wit, wisdom, and love for God make her stories so funny, impactful, and inspiring. In her latest book, Somehow; Thoughts on Love, she focuses on the power of love and the many varied and precious ways we experience love in our lives. Chapter seven is all about the love that is to be found in community and the danger to be found in isolation. As she puts it, “Nobody in isolation becomes who they were designed to be.” She goes on to describe the benefits and the necessity of community: In community, lines of difference blur. We get hydrated, and we get our senses of humor back, the great miracle; we get set back on our feet when we fall or get knocked down, and we’re filled up by helping other people get back on their feet. A friendly community holds up a more accurate mirror, revealing that there are others in the frame. No matter how hard I try, I cannot sing harmony by myself. Anne Lamott is a self-proclaimed introvert but she knows first-hand the importance of putting yourself out there. That process of putting yourself out there begins with asking God to find you that community that offers you the “sacrament of welcome,” as she puts it. We can come up with all kinds of excuses not to put ourselves out there. Lamott brings these excuses to light: Becoming part of a community can be scary initially, even if you have been feeling lonely and untethered. We worry we will get lost or used or taken advantage of or mocked, or we’ll disappear, or we’ll get equalized, so that a lifetime of high achievement, of being a very special person in the world, will have been for naught. The hard part is coming a second time. Maybe you’re not convinced these people are worthy of you or think that they would never accept you. But almost always people will say, “We’re glad to see you. Please come back.” And you’ll think, well, they’re just nuts. But they will say, “We’re glad to see you.” You think that, sadly, you don’t have time for this because you are a busy and important person. She also describes, with such wit and warmth, the life-giving perk of membership in a loving community: But the love of that group is that they see me, the false parts of myself that I’m propping...

Off My Rocker?

I’m beginning to think there might be something wrong with me. I have started using my grandkid’s cute stuffed animal you see in the picture above as a sleep aid. It’s so soft and pliable and makes a great neck support. Not to mention it’s just really cute. Why I think I might be a little off, is that in my mind, this furry guy gets more real each day. Yesterday, when I woke up and he was on the floor, I had a twinge of sadness thinking that I must have inadvertently hurled him overboard. He just looks and “acts” so real. The other day, when I threw him on the bed, he landed like he is in the picture. Now tell me that doesn’t look like a real person. I told you; I need help. There are a few other strange things that have happened to me lately. I am finding it harder and harder to kill bugs, I make excuses for the gophers who are digging up our sidewalk pavers, and I let a spider take up residence in an outdoor decorative lantern until it had filled the whole thing with an elaborate web. I blame this newfound, deep sense of connection to nature on experiences I have had in nature in the last few years and more recently on the reading I have been doing on humanity’s innate connection to God, to each other, and to nature. That new awareness has taken root in me and I can’t shake it. Not that I want to shake it. I find comfort and happiness knowing that God is love and that love resides in each one of us. That love was put there to share with each other and with all of creation. What a wonderful world it would be if that love showed up more often and everywhere. I hope you will take the time to read about our October mini-retreat at Firstfruits. The two offerings for our first mini-retreat focus on this topic of our connectedness and the power within us to use that connectedness to make some real changes for good. Be sure to check it out. Just to clarify a few things. I do kill mosquitos and bees when the situation warrants it. I guess my love hasn’t extended to them yet. And I know this connection to nature doesn’t really explain my tendency to assign human characteristics to stuffed animals....

Come Home

It’s interesting to watch my eight grandchildren navigate these first few weeks of a new school year, especially the younger ones.  There have been reports ranging from tears shed to smiles and joyful anticipation. I remember vividly those first weeks of school from my own childhood. Back in those days, we had the option of going home for lunch which I did quite often since we lived close and I could walk home. I can still recall the comforting feeling of going home in the middle of my school day, being in those familiar surroundings with my mom and my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was just what I needed to go back out into the real world. It was my refueling station. My place to fill up again with the assurance that I was loved and that I belonged. We all need that comfort and sense of belonging that coming home provides. For me, my home with my biological family was my refueling station, but I know that isn’t always the case. But “home” can be found in other places. Home is found wherever God provides it. Could Firstfruits be where God is providing you with a “home”? A refueling station?   Last week I wrote about new beginnings. Firtfruits is experiencing some new beginnings of its own. Once a month, starting in October, we will be offering mini-retreats. Watch for details in future emails. As part of your new beginnings, I hope you will seriously and prayerfully consider where you could fit Firstfruits into your life. Take some time away. Come home for lunch. Joan...

Something New

I know it’s September when on my morning walk, I have to pause to let the parade of grade schoolers in their clean sneakers and crisp back packs pass by on their bicycles. I love this time of year. It brings back such vivid memories of my childhood. Nothing says nostalgia like a brand- new pink pearl eraser and pack of newly-sharpened number two pencils. Back-to-school didn’t mean back-to-what was. It signaled a new beginning. New teacher, new classroom, new subjects and maybe even some new friends. That feeling of newness has stayed with me. It’s deep in my bones. This time of year, I get a real sense that I should start over or start anew at something. Much more so than the more traditional time of starting over on New Year’s Day. In September I feel the beginning of a new season. A clean slate where possibility and desire could become reality. It surprises me a bit, that I have that same stirring this September considering that new beginnings in Cancerland are often a ways off as each new day seems to be mired in what is. But I do sense an excitement, like on that first day of school. Even when life is heavy and the rut is deep, there is a God-planted desire in each of us to live an abundant life. And God wants nothing more than to provide that abundant life. It’s waiting for us Where could you use a new beginning? Where is God awakening your spirit to something new? Where does God want to give you a more abundant life? Joan For a New Beginning In out of the way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge. For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown. It watched you play with the seduction of safety And the gray promises that sameness whispered, Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent, Wondered would you always live like this? Then the delight, when your courage kindled, And out you stepped onto new ground, Your eyes young again with energy and dream, A path of plenitude opening before you. Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening; Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning That is at one with our life’s desire. Awaken your spirit to adventure; Hold nothing...

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...