Archive for June, 2008

Dry, Dry, Dry (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I’ve had one or two people mention that there hasn’t been a post in a week, and wondered how I was doing. I attempted a post, but I all but tossed my laptop in the garbage when I started reading it. I’ve just been feeling…dry. As a hobbit once said, “I feel like too little butter scraped across too much toast.” (Or something like that. I can’t find my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring at the moment.)

I haven’t been writing because there isn’t anything to give. Between work, Ian, Deb, home and friends, there just hasn’t been anything left. My primary challenge is to abide in Christ right now. It sounds simple: read my Bible and pray. That’s my primary objective. And yet, that feels like my biggest challenge. I keep throwing up “ifs”: if only Ian would sleep, and let me have my time before I go to work. If only I could take my lunch hour and get away from the building. If only I could get some time in the evening.

Recently, I heard the term “put your own oxygen mask on first.” Just like the emergency instructions before an airplane takes off. When there’s a drop in cabin pressure, the parents’ first impulse is to take care of small children first, then themselves. The flight attendants remind the passengers that in order to care for and protect their children, the parents must care for their own needs first. The kids are not taken care of when mom or dad have passed out.

Similarly, I’m not doing Deb or Ian any favors when I’m not taking care of myself. If anyone out there is praying for me, I feel like my needs are pretty basic:

Exercise: I had a my cholesterol checked a few years ago, as well as last September. Both tests had similar results: LDL cholesterol was low (yay!), HDL cholesterol was low (@#$%). My doctor reminded me that HDL cholesterol is raised by only one method: regular, sweat-breaking exercise. I used to work out before I got ready to leave for work, but Ian’s been waking up at 5:30 lately, and I’ve wanted to get up and be with him.

Scripture: I firmly believe that the Word of God is alive, having the power through the Holy Spirit to heal and refresh. Deb and I have both experienced this recently, when it spoke directly to us individually, addressing our currently situation. In the past year, I’ve discovered the joy of reading my Bible. Now, I need to find my refreshment in it.

Prayer: Over the Memorial Day weekend, when I had a few days off, I had some incredible prayer times. Granted, at the time, the grief was fresh and new, and that drove me to my knees. I can’t remember the last time I felt closest to God. It seems like lately, I have to share my prayer time with 10,000 of my closest friends while commuting.

Correction. Earlier this week, I was driving and decided to play three songs that have best described my situation, at least in my mind. First, it was one that I posted about earlier: I Will Lift My Eyes, by Bebo Norman. The utter desperation and dependency on Jesus still speaks to me. It starts off “Oh God, My God, Your beloved needs You now.” Framing the situation that way, that I am God’s beloved, whom He will not abandon, speaks directly to my fears.

The second song is an older one. It’s “Blessed Be the Name of the Lord (From Job” by Brent Bourgeios. I believe that the phrase “The Lord gave, The Lord has taken away / blessed be the name of The Lord” is perhaps one of the purest expressions of worship that man has ever conceived. Job understood that nothing he was given, not even his children, were his, but that everything ultimately belongs to God. When everything he had was ripped away, his first reaction was to bless the name of God. Job refused to allow his status, his riches, his prosperity, or anything of this earth define who he was, or who God is.

The third song is Sunday by Tree63. The song describes a how God’s promises are true and reliable, even (especially?) when all evidence points to defeat. I firmly believe that God loves dramatic endings.

At any rate, if you are praying those are my requests: time for exercise, scripture reading, and prayer. With regard to time in God’s word, another Lord of the Rings quote comes to mind. I thought of it this morning when our pastor was delivering a message about the importance of God’s word, and in one comparison, he displayed a sword (in reference to Hebrews 4:12). I couldn’t help but to lean over to one of my best friends and quote Gandalf from The Two Towers, when he was addressing King Theoden: “Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped a sword-hilt.”

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Only 90%? (Geeky Stuff)

I case there was any doubt, I took a quiz at the link below, and behold my score:

90% Geek

Created by OnePlusYou

My only question is, what is my other 10%?

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The Correct Perspective (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

Our church makes available a daily devotional titled “Indeed,” which God has used throughout this process to speak to both Deb and me. Early on, it explored passages in Isaiah, which reminded us of God’s love and the hope He provided. Yesterday’s message in “Indeed” was once again timely. I had hoped that I could just provide a link to it and let you read it (no such luck). So, I’ll give you my perspective anyway.

Over the last week, the gravity of our situation has started to become overwhelming. Even though Ian has shown improvement, the enemy keeps bringing back some of the doctor’s words from the prognosis as an attack. I want to be realistic about Ian’s chances, and by human standards those chances aren’t good. The other temptation is to focus solely on asking God to heal him. There is nothing wrong with interceding on Ian’s behalf; I do that every day in full confidence, as do an enormous number of others (thank you for your prayers, everyone). However, as long as I focus on those two possible outcomes, my perspective remains almost strictly temporal and one-dimensional.

The “Indeed” devotional is currently looking at the first chapter in Job. Anytime I look at Job, one of two thoughts cross my mind:

1.) “I fully believe what this says, but my situation is nearly that bad.”
2.) “Dear Lord, please don’t let my situation get that bad.”

Anyway, looking at the first chapter of Job, any tragic situation gets a new framework. God has protected Job and allowed him to prosper. Job recognizes that all of his blessings are from God, and is appropriately thankful. Satan (literally, “the accuser”) uses this relationship to make the charge that Job is worshiping God only because he is blessed and protected. Satan states that if Job was not protected, he would not be faithful. God then allows the test to proceed.

God entrusts His reputation to Job, and when Job is faithful, God is glorified. That frames my situation much differently. God is entrusting His reputation with me, since my words and actions are now getting much greater scrutiny than before we learned of Ian’s condition. God has Ian’s best interest in mind, and will take care of my son. My charge is to continue to glorify God no matter what happens.

In discussing this with someone dear to me, the question was raised, “Wouldn’t it glorify God most to heal Ian?” In my limited mind, it would be hard to disagree with that statement. God, heal Ian now, heal him completely, and do it in a way that nobody else can explain. However, when I start praying and expecting that to happen, I exhibit tremendous hubris by thinking that I can tell the Maker of the universe, the Ruler of Creation, what to do. I have the audacity to recommend to my Lord, here is how you should be honored. I would not think to suggest to my manager at work how he should perform his job. What right do I have informing The Almighty of how His work is to be done?

Instead, I need to let God be God. I usually have a hard enough time being Tom; I’m not looking for that kind of promotion. I ask that His will be to restore Ian, but I ask further that His will be done. And until His final decision is known, I will focus on the task that He has given to me: to lift up the name of Jesus in everything I say and do. That task was given to me before we knew that Ian had a tumor, and it has not changed.

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My Other Fathers Day Gifts / Hope (Tom, Ian, Geeky Stuff, Graces and Mercies)

I haven’t been writing as much as I was a couple of weeks ago. The initial shock as passed, and now we’re working on the routine (or, as I have told Deb, “the new normal.”) I am still working full time, so I haven’t had (or, more accurately, taken) the time for introspection and mentally chewing through what “the new normal” is. So, instead of my usually articulate and insightful posting (sprinkled with wry humor), today you get the blog equivalent of “shepherd’s pie.”

The present that Ian bought for me was something that he and I enjoy together: The Looney Tunes Golden Collection, Vol. 4. Never let it be said that I didn’t take the time to give my son a classical education.

From Deb, I got Wii Fit. For a little over a year, I had been using a fitness video game called Yourself!Fitness. Wii Fit has advantages, such as a balance/scale unit that gives more feedback, and a male instructor. However, I’m still evaluating it. One disadvantage to Wii Fit is that it makes me think much more about my exercise routine than the program I have been using. It was nice to be able to turn my brain off and just follow the on-screen instructor, from warm-up, through the routine, then finally through cool-down. Wii Fit will most likely be more of a fun complement, but not necessarily a replacement. Also, as soon as Ian is more confident with his balance, hopefully he will want to try it out.

Finally, I came across this article in the Wired RSS feed. At this point, I can’t waste my time and energy running down every treatment option that is available. We have the best care possible through the University of Minnesota, and I believe that we couldn’t be in better hands. However, something like this is an answer to my (daily) prayer of “grace and mercy for today, hope for tomorrow.”

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My Father’s Day Gift (Ian, Tom)

(I’m posting this on on both the CaringBridge and HendersonHome sites, for anyone keeping score. It’s Father’s Day, and I can do what I want.)

This Father’s Day is perhaps one of the most difficult ones I’ve had since my father passed away nineteen years ago. On one hand, I feel a stab knowing that my little boy is struggling as he is. However, I focus on the fact that I have Ian with me right now, and I take the opportunity to make sure he knows that I love him, and that I’m proud of him. I started the day telling him that he is the reason I’m happy to be a father, and how proud I am of him.

And the truth is, I am incredibly proud of him. He is perhaps one of the most kind and giving individuals I have known, far beyond his years. Case in point: Ian was given a generous gift card to Target recently. He and Deb went there so that he could have some fun, picking out swimming toys. He wanted to buy Deb’s groceries with it (she refused), but he was determined to buy my Father’s Day gift, with his own gift money. This is not an isolated circumstance; it’s how he is. We’re in the middle of a multi-day Monopoly game. He currently owns 2/3 of the board, and has ten times the money that I do. (Mental note: get a financial advisor ASAP.) He wants to give me some of his money, just so that I can continue to play with him.

My son is grateful, too. Often, Ian will say “thank you” for things that most people take for granted. He has made it a point to thank restaurant employees for cooking his food. Ian will thank us for little things (Hot Wheels cars, a cookie, taking him out to eat) as well as larger things. He understands that he is not entitled to these things, and that they are gifts.

In many ways, I hope to be like him someday. He is my son, and he teaches me about how life should be lived. I can think of no greater Father’s Day gift.

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Stewarding Sorrow (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

One of the joys I’ve had in the past few weeks is exchanging correspondence with relatives with whom I haven’t talked in years, sometimes decades. One particular relationship that Debra and I treasure is with my great-uncle Robert Mann. He claims that we have met at family reunions. I’m sure that he’s right, but, more than likely, I was too busy playing with my father’s fire extinguisher* to remember.

Uncle Robert sent us a letter with a picture of a bear he saw at Yellowstone Park, in reference to the post about Ian’s close call with a bear in our yard. A treasure to us was the following quote. It was from a booklet that a friend of his wrote.

Sorrow is really a stewardship. And sorrow is apt to be selfish if we are not careful. Rightly borne, sorrow in your life may mean strength and courage for someone else. I think there can be no doubt that some trials are permitted to come to us for no other reason than that through them we may be able to give sympathy and help to others.

If we suffer rightly, we make a contribution to the alleviation of human grief, and to the triumph of good over evil, love over hate, and of light over darkness.

That first line resonated with me: Sorrow is a stewardship. God is entrusting me with this time, with this experience. I can waste it feeling sorry for myself or for Ian. I could go off on a two-week bender. I could grow angry and bitter. I could sink into depression, and lash out at anyone who would try to reach me. I could go into denial, pretending that nothing has changed.

All of those might be perfectly acceptable human responses. But, if I allowed myself to venture down any of those paths, I would miss out on what my Lord is trying to accomplish through this. If I truly believe that God is sovereign over every atom, every subatomic particle in the universe, then this was not a random occurrence. That thought is one that at the same time is both impossible to swallow and of great comfort: God allowed my son to develop an inoperable brain tumor for a reason. I may never know that reason, at least not completely, this side of eternity, but there is a reason. On one hand, the thought that the God of the universe, who loved me to the point of death on a cross, allowed my little boy to develop a horrible illness, for which there is no cure, is difficult to swallow. From a purely human viewpoint, nobody would blame me if I shook my fist in defiance at Him because of this. There is no answer to the question of “why?” that will answer my limited, fleshly intellect.

Yet, I constantly pray that I would see my life not from a human viewpoint, but from a perspective of eternity. From that point of view, the idea that this happened for a reason is a great comfort. This was not a random occurrence, but this is carefully orchestrated, and it’s very possible that something glorious is going to come of it. Earlier in the decade, when the IT industry was going through its “correction” and I was between jobs, I grew fond of a saying: “God is never late. He just loves dramatic endings.” Case in point: during one jobless period, Deb and I determined that if I did not get a job and get my first paycheck by the end of May, we would need to start the process of selling our house. However, God provided me a job, and I got my first paycheck…on May 31st. My Lord provided in His timing, and by relying on Him, we have been able to give Him the glory.

There is a plan for this, and I don’t have the luxury of knowing what the end is. I like to think that my son will be healed completely of this tumor. Whether it’s done supernaturally, or through the experimental treatment he’s on, I care not. But even if Ian is not healed, I am still responsible for what is happening now with my life, and how I approach this season. Even now, God is investing in me. He’s pouring out his compassion and kindness through family and friends. He supports me on a daily basis, emotionally, spiritually and materially. Through this time, my Lord is developing and nurturing something that He will use for His glory later. It’s not up to me to know what that something is. My responsibility now is to be in the moment, seeking His gentle mercy and perfect will.

*True story. It was fun. Definitely worth the spanking.

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Hope Hurts (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

(This post was started on Thursday, June 5, 2008…)

True, genuine hope for the future has been a little hard to come by for me lately. I can see hope for the near term–Ian has been improving, and we should see much more of our boy by Father’s Day. But hope for the long term…a year from now, two years from now…I don’t have much. I’ve been trying to figure out why.

The best I can figure out is that if I dare to have hope, then I open myself up to disappointment. And since we’re talking about the life of my only son, the disappointment hurts deeply. As much as I want to imagine Ian growing up and becoming a man, it’s difficult for me to have the courage let my mind wander there now. It’s safer to…not.

(…then finished on Saturday, June 7, 2008)

Two things happened that broke the thought pattern I wrote about above, and brought honest hope:

1.) Later, on Thursday evening, Deb told me that Ian’s oncology team was going to meet with another little boy who also had a DIPG. He was treated with the same experimental therapy that Ian is undergoing, only during the stage one trials. He was coming in for a routine MRI, just to verify that his tumor had not returned since his treatment ended three years ago.

2.) The biggest difference came just before I went to sleep on Thursday night. I’m in the process of reading Victory Over the Darkness by Neil T. Anderson. In chapter 8, Neil discusses the battle for my mind, and describes some of the enemy’s strategies to affect my thought life.

One aspect he brought up is that the enemy speaks directly to our minds, in subtle and devious ways. Instead of saying “There is no hope,” he says “I don’t believe there is hope.” See the difference? He substitutes his thoughts for ours, making us think that his suggestions are our own thoughts, just by changing the sentence from the third person to the first person.

The enemy’s weapons are lies and deceit. By leading my thoughts along the lines of hopelessness and depression, I was living in defeat. Through the teaching of Mr. Anderson, I’m learning the deeper meaning of 2 Corinthians 10:5 (We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.)

That concept, of taking every thought captive, always seemed insurmountable to me. Once I learned that not everything that goes on in my head is my thought, but that the enemy will place suggestions there for his purposes, it became a matter of learning to hold my thoughts up in light of scripture, and from there either rejecting them as a temptation, or acting upon them. The more quickly I reject thoughts that go against God’s word, the better off I am. And the only way that I can quickly discern what’s going on in my head is by consistently spending time in scripture: reading, studying and meditating on God’s word. Only then am I truly equipped to fight the accuser on the true field of battle: my heart and my mind.

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Something’s Wrong Here… (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I’m ripping this off from C.S. Lewis. I think it’s from Mere Christianity…bonus points to anyone who can confirm or deny it.

What’s going on with Ian is a tragedy, no doubt. And there are tragedies going on all over the world, at any given time. Children have horrible things happen to them. Loved ones leave (either by death, or just go somewhere else). Things hurt deeply, and it takes a long time to recover, if we ever do. We spend years working through terrible events, trying to process them and come to terms.

Why? Why do these things bother us?

It’s not like awful occurrences are a novelty. All civilizations record tragedies, and all of them treat such things as negatives. If anyone can provide proof of a civilization that celebrates personal tragedy, please send it my way. But, why? Why do we react with tears when we miss a long-lost relative or friend? Why do we mourn a death? For what reason do we look at suffering and recoil? It’s all around us, all but unavoidable, and yet we try to avoid it at all costs.

I propose this answer: We weren’t made for it. We were not made to suffer. We were not made to experience a loss of relationship, either through disagreement or death. We were not designed to live in pain, hunger or sickness. We were not created for sorrow. You show me someone (an individual, not a celebration) who revels in suffering, and I will show you someone who is mentally ill.

So, here’s the dilemma. We live in a world of pain and suffering, and yet we were not made for such things. What are the conclusions?

1. We live in a screwed up world. Corrupted. Distorted. I won’t go through the story in Genesis, but mankind, in his pride and arrogance, wanted to be like God and tainted this world for all history.

2. We were made to live in perfection. We were created for perfect relationships. We were designed to not hurt, to never experience pain.

I plan on reading Heaven by Randy Alcorn soon. I don’t want to be a believer that is simply waiting for the Kingdom to come, but at the same time I fully believe that Christians need to have a clear vision of where we are going to spend eternity. We need to not be merely saved from damnation, but to be delivered into paradise. It’s a life that we can sample now in short, incomplete bursts.

Before we went to Maui, we must have read about it for a week. Why am I not reading more about where I’m spending not just the rest of my life, but all of eternity?

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