Still Here? (Taking Stock, Tom)

Is anyone still here?

I'm sure that anyone who has been reading this blog (thank you, both of you) would ask the same thing. It's been a month since I last put anything up, in Internet time, that's an eternity.

I wasn't intentionally not blogging, but any post I thought about, I mentally edited until I had myself convinced that it wasn't worth typing. Nevertheless, I remember that when I was posting regularly, I felt better. I was doing better. I have fallen off numerous wagons over the few months, and it's time to get back on them, one by one.

How Am I?
I'm...still grieving. This shouldn't come to anyone's surprise. And I know that the events of the past year will never completely heal. That's just the way we're made. And yet, I'm ready to stop hurting. I'm not trying to forget Ian; I look at pictures and video too much for that to happen. But, I'm just tired of the grief and the emotional pain.

To that end, I've been letting myself get very distracted. Everyone has their own addictions. Mine is entertainment. A month ago, in a moment of weakness, I bought an XBox 360. A more accurate term for this device would be "time sink". It didn't help matters that one of the first games I purchased was perhaps the most engaging game I have every played. Only lately have I been able to consciously not turn the blasted thing on when I have a few free moments. And it doesn't help that the thing will play Netflix movies over the 'Net.

What Am I Doing?
I'm busy in other areas. I've started Phase II of Heart of a Warrior, called Focus of a Warrior. It's a nine month program that is designed to help me narrow down why I've been put on this earth. Also, I'm back playing bass (and, hopefully, other instruments) in the music ministry at our church. There are house projects galore that are being addressed. Oh, yeah--and my job is in the busiest season of the year.

What Has Been My Input?
I've been reading, at least as much as I ever have. I finished Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller fairly quickly. I also buzzed through Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. At the moment, I'm reading unChristian by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons. All three of these books seem to be God's way of telling me that a change is coming.

The biggest part of me wants to put This Bloody Season behind me and rest. I'm tired, and I want to relax. I want to stay in my basement, enjoy my little addiction and let the world rot. It has disappointed me; I'll just wait for the next one, thank you very much. But that's not what I signed up for. And, ultimately, I know that it won't satisfy or bring me joy. Happiness, yes. But, to paraphrase C.S. Lewis, if I want happiness, I can go find it in a bottle of beer and a game. Ultimately, I do want more. Or, more accurately, I want to want more.

To that end, the next book in my queue is When I Don't Desire God by John Piper. I've read the first chapter, and immediately backed off. I recognized that this book cannot be read then put aside, at least if I want to gain anything from it. I'm going to have to read this one slowly, and mentally chew on it. I'll probably approach it like I did my penultimate life-changing book, Victory Over the Darkness by Neil Anderson. If it's going to do me any good, I will need to read each chapter two or three times, highlighting and making notes in the margin as I go. I'll need to write down questions for myself. The bottom line is that either God (not his creation, but God Himself) is not only able to satisfy, but will bring me the highest form of joy, or not. I believe the question for that one is answered by only me. Am I willing to forgo other pleasures in order to find my complete joy in Him?

I guess I'll find out. I told a friend about this book, and she requested that I blog about it as I read it. I can see that being a helpful way to process through the material. So, I guess you will find out, too.

PS -- If you clicked on some of the book links above, then I hope you'll agree; Amazon owes me something...

This Bloody Season (Tom, Graces and Mercies)

I guess I'm ready to write this post, now.

For anyone who hasn't been paying attention, Ian went to be with our Lord at Midnight on Thursday, February 19th. He left peacefully, and for that we are grateful.

I guess I'm handling things much better than I had ever imagined. Before we ever knew about the tumor, I always put an event like this into a strictly theoretical, almost academic light. If something were to happen to Ian, then I would give myself permission to completely lose it. "Losing it" took any number of self-destructive behaviors that I don't need to go into now. Suffice to say that if I were to do that, I would no longer care about my wife, my relationship with God, my friends and family, much less myself.

But, that's not where I find myself right now, and I'm surprised. I remember the emotional minefield that I was walking back in May, when we received our initial diagnosis. Holding my composure became all I could do. Every so often, I would trigger an emotional mine and the grief would overtake me. Eventually, I stopped fighting it and allowed myself to weep when it occurred, so that the pain wouldn't be prolonged.

In November, when we received news that the tumor was regrowing, I found myself in the same minefield, but this time I knew how to walk it better. As Ian continued to change and decline, I discovered, my grief having found its outlet, that I was better able to take care of him. In this past week, I came to the point where I could honestly ask God for His mercy, knowing what that meant. Until that point, I was clinging to my little boy, hoping for a healing but willing to keep him in his broken state, just for my own selfishness.

Now, Ian is running on legs that are stronger than any decathelete. He sees more clearly than anyone on this Earth ever has, taking in colors that I have never imagined. He is hearing music sung to the Lord of Hosts that is woven with tones more exquisite than anything conceived here. He is becoming acquainted with people who have loved him before he was born, and at least one or two that loved him in this world.

Most of all, he is in the presence of the One who made him, the One who loved him first and the One who loves him best. If scripture is to be believed...and it is...then Ian, in his new body, has met Jesus, in His redeemed body. To say that Ian is in the presence of the Lord is not a mystical concept, nor is it third-person. I have been in the presence of Paul Simon and Bono in that we were in the same room with one another, but that room was huge, and there was no interaction. Those men were not conscious of me in any way. On the other hand, Ian is in the presence of the King of Creation, who is intimately aware of Ian's presence, and was excited for this to occur. They are together in the same way as when he and I would lock arms in a hug: bodily, emotionally and spiritually. On Thursday morning, Ian fulfilled that for which he was created, and the desires of Yahweh were complete: The King of the universe was finally in perfect communion with His beloved creation.

I realize that when I mourn, I mourn for myself. As a father who has lost intimate contact with his son, I have a dim insight into how God has mourned for the relationship He desires with each of us until we are reconciled through Christ. I have not "lost" my son, and it's unfortunate that term is often used out of convenience. The only thing lost is contact, and even that is temporary. We have merely prepared and sent him ahead to the new home where we will meet again.

* * *

I've titled this post This Bloody Season, and that is what I have come to call the last nine months. "Bloody" was the most polite way I came up with to accurately describe how I feel. I haven't used the phrase here, because it denotes an anger that I didn't want broadcast to the world. This Bloody Season is now coming to a close.

But, after next weekend, This Bloody Season will start to fade, and the next one will dawn. Deb and I have wondered both individually and together what the next season will look like. We will have more freedom, but we are different people than we were before Ian was born. I'm sure that we will travel more. Hopefully, we will watch TV less (and at least watch better content.) Now that God has removed some dreams but fulfilled our biggest one, we wait for Him to give us new ones.

Update: If I were to make a bet, then I would guess that a trip to Colorado is in the future. And Bermuda...

Our Laughing Place (Ian, Tom)

It seems like every time I wake up, I have forgotten how much of Ian has become inaccessible to us. He's every bit as much there as he's always been; it's just his body that's changed. Last night, for possibly the last time, he actually smiled and giggled a little bit.

He tried smiling on Friday morning. I looked at his face, and he seemed to have an expression of exertion, as if he was using all of his strength to do something. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Nothing" he said, "I'm...trying...to...smile...at...you." Each word is strained, as his speech center struggles to activate the necessary muscles. As our conversations grow increasingly one-sided, I'm learning the treasure each word, and let him make them count. That last sentence was priceless for me.

Later that evening, we were talking about food (that is a common topic these days). We were joking with each other that each of us was going to take all of...something. I can't remember what. But what I will remember is that he actually smiled, and laughed a little. For the briefest moment, my little boy was back with me, and we were laughing together.

I can't remember the last time that happened. I'm also afraid that it will be the last time this side of eternity.

Just One More Afternoon (Tom, Ian, Graces and Mercies)

On Sunday, I had the kind of afternoon that I've had at least a hundred times before. I'm going to miss them terribly.

I wanted to get Ian out for a while, so I decided that he and I would go to Target to find something for him to spend his allowance on, then head to a park for a walk (or, I guess, a roll.)

We packed a backpack full of stuff that we thought it would be good to have with us, just to be safe. As the contents grew, it reminded me of when Ian was much smaller, and we would have a diaper bag packed at all times.

When Ian was a toddler, deb worked 2-3 nights/week at the local mall. Often, the boy & I would go there and wander around. It gave us something to do, and it allowed mother and son to say "goodnight" to each other. He and I had our regular stops at the shopping center, almost on a schedule: We would get a stroller and say "hi" to Deb, then makes our rounds (KayBee Toys, the other toy store, Air Traffic, GameStop, then get a pretzel). He would eat his share of the pretzel and tell Deb about his evening, followed by home and bed.

Later, he and I would branch out for grander outings. Edinborough, parks in summer and Chuck E. Cheese were places I could take him for an afternoon or evening adventure. We were just a couple of guys out having fun.

Anyway, we wandered around Target for a while. The more toys Ian looked at, the more he said "I'll have to save up for that." I had to resist the impulse to buy him whatever he wanted. We both settled for a new lightsaber. (After all, he has only four of them, and only one other blue one. Besides, this one lights up! And it makes sounds!) We also grabbed a new dice game, and a set of 3-D glasses for the Superbowl commercials.

At the park, I bundled the boy up, but forgot my gloves. The air temperature wasn't bad, and being in the sun was great. It's been a long winter, with too many grey skies. But the wind picked up, and we both agreed that we had had enough fresh air. How about going for a drive? That sounded good; we just weren't ready to be home yet. I started off with no particular destination in mind. Just a chance to be side by side, still in the sun.

I took his left hand and held it. One of the issues he's been dealing with is that he doesn't feel much of anything in his left side anymore. He's got strength there, but it doesn't do him much good without the feedback that sensation would give him.

"Can you feel my hand?"

"A little."

"Is it OK if I just hold it?"

"Yeah."

And so we drove for a little while, my hand holding his. It wasn't doing much for Ian, but I'll take what I can get.

Small Mouse, Big Dreams (Tom, Pictures)

We just got back from seeing The Tale of Despereaux. It's a great kid's movie, with many timeless messages. It touches on courage, chivalry, honor and the power of forgiveness.

And, yes, Elaine--as you can see, we took Ian's little Despereaux with us. Ian thought that it was hilarious when the mouse used his enormous ears to glide, and recreated that scene all the way home.

Looking Over My Shoulder (Graces and Mercies, Tom)

One thing I've noticed as I get older, is that songs I've listened to dozens of times can suddenly reveal their meanings (or new meanings) as I accumulate more experiences. Case in point: I was listening to the album High Noon by Mark Heard. I came to the song "Look Over Your Shoulder", and its meaning became very real to me (at least, a meaning that the Lord had for me).

Here is a recording of the song as done by Randy Stonehill and Kate Miner from the tribute album Strong Hand of Love. While there is nothing wrong with the original, I've always enjoyed this one more for some reason.

Look Over Your Shoulder
by Mark Heard

Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming
Tell me what is the bogey that you're so afraid of
The eyes in the back of our heads can persuade
That just for a moment mercy has swayed
Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming

Look into your sad eyes and tell me what you see
What is left of the child who is hiding behind them
Who longs to be laughing in places of light
Who knows that the morning will follow the night
Look into your sad eyes and tell me what you see

If you must be afraid, be afraid of yourself
For being afraid of the fear you have felt
You will weather well in a climate of love

It takes more than your passion and more than your pain
For the rock of forgiveness to melt in the rain

Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming
Look into your sad eyes and tell me what you see
Look over your shoulder and tell me what's coming

This song speaks to the fear that has been lurking in the back of my head, that looks for moments to jump out and overtake me. I love the way that this song expresses comfort and hope, while at the same time giving a sense of understanding.

How to Unfreeze a Garage Door (House Projects, Tom)

If you read CaringBridge this morning, you will note that when I tried to leave home this morning, I was surprised to find our garage door was frozen shut. Yesterday, instead of snowing in the morning and early afternoon, it rained. Mix that with the snow that came later and the sub-zero temperatures we're "enjoying" today, and you have the described predicament.

After I came to grips with the state of affairs, I turned to the geek's best friend, Google. I was dismayed to find that if you Google "Garage Door Frozen Shut," 75% of the advice is about car doors being frozen shut, 95% of the advice being about how to prevent it (not much help now, thankyouverymuch), and only a couple of items about how to solve the problem in the immediate sense.

So, in the interest of helping the community, here is what I did.

1. Push button again, in the hope that the door opener didn't understand your original intent.
2. Blink.
3. Pull the handle, trying to raise the door manually. Grunt loudly when the door, to your surprise, doesn't move. Making a whimpering sound is optional, but recommended.
4. Push up on the door, using all of your manly strength. Try to ignore the fact that you are being defeated by a thin layer of ice.
5. Kick the door, secretly hoping that you aren't going to dent it.
6. Run a hair dryer along the inside bottom edge, knowing full well that you are attempting to warm the entire garage floor.
7. Repeat the process on the outside bottom edge, knowing full well that you are now attempting to heat the garage floor and the state of Minnesota.
8. Put ice melting salt on the outside bottom edge of the garage door, praying that some chemist was smarter than you currently feel.
9. Go inside, eat three pancakes.
10. Use Google to search for ways to un-freeze door. (see definition: "Insult to Injury").
11. Pour windshield wiper fluid on outside bottom edge of door, add more ice-melting salt.
12. Play Yahtzee with son.
13. Use a putty knife to separate door gasket from concrete.
14. Success!

Staying in the Now (Tom, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

It's been awhile since I've posted about what's going on inside of me. I've promised myself to be open here, as a therapy. I haven't been really moved to post more than pictures and video, until now.

Deb and I took an evening to sequester ourselves. It felt good to be cloistered, even for a few hours. We took along a DVD set of Chip Ingram sermons titled "God As He Longs You to See Him." There wasn't a guide on the box listing which disc had which sermon, so we had to start hunting through them to find the one we were interested in watching. We longed to hear about God's faithfulness, but for some reason, we stopped on God's wisdom.

Chip quoted A. W. Tozer, and the line resonated with both of us. I was about to fumble through it from memory, but I remembered that Google is my friend. The quote is:

Wisdom, among other things, is the the ability to devise perfect ends and to achieve those ends by the most perfect means....All God's acts are done in perfect wisdom, first for His own glory, and then for the highest good of the greatest number for the longest time. And all His acts are as pure as they are wise, and as good as they are wise and pure. Not only could His acts not be better done: a better way to do them could not be imagined.

This is one that I'm still working through in my head. If this is true, then Ian's illness was for God's glory. I can accept that, based on what I've seen. I've watched the church display Christ's love over and over through this season. But, this also means that Ian's tumor was allowed because it has resulted in the highest good of the greatest number of people for the longest time. That I can accept, for the moment, because I've heard about and talked with people who have been drawn closer to God through our actions, which has been our desire all along.

I think where I'm having trouble is in a future that doesn't exist yet. Actually, that's where I've been having trouble for months, since about mid-May. The enemy keeps showing me glimpses and scenes in my mind of a future that doesn't exist. Right now, I can ask myself, "Is Ian's condition worth God's glory? Do you believe that God is still wise?", and I can honestly answer "Yes." But from what I know about the progression of this disease based on previous cases, I don't know how long I will be able to answer in the affirmative. I'm afraid that, at some point, I will be questioned by the enemy "Is what your son is experiencing worth God's glory? Can you still say that God is wise?" and at best, I won't have an answer.

If I'm not prepared to give a definite "yes," then I need to be able to state that I know what is best for everyone who has ever lived, based on what actually happened and what possibly could have happened. Obviously, there is no way for me to know that. So, what am I left with? I could answer "no," and commit an act of ultimate pride and hubris, by saying that I am wiser than God. Or, I can firmly answer "yes," and suppress the part of me that is screaming inside.

At this point, the best I can do is look at where we are. Not where we will be, but where we are at this moment, and say, "I believe so." Then, I look at where we are in the moment to follow, and give the same answer. I find that I do trust that God will give me the grace to answer that question each moment, for that moment. But He doesn't have to give me the grace to answer that question about the future, because I'm not there yet. And that is Ok.

An Ian and Dad Saturday (Ian, Tom, Pictures, Graces and Mercies)

Today, Ian and I had pretty much an Ian and Dad day. I had the opportunity to all but spoil him (although, after our Make-a-Wish trip, that bar got significantly higher.)

Ian had his first dose of steroids last night, and the side effects are already kicking in. He was wide awake at 6:00 this morning. Thanks to a dose of melatonin, I had actually gotten some sleep last night, so I got up with him. While he watched a DVD, I checked email and kept refreshing CaringBridge, looking for new guestbook posts.

Later this morning, we hit Mall of America (after a 10:00 a.m. lunch at Subway). We got Deb's birthday present, then I gave him a choice of either playing mini-golf at MoA, or riding rides. Me being the soft touch that I am, "or" became "and", so we wound up riding a couple of rides anyway.

Ian's favorite ride at Mall of America is the Pepsi Ripsaw...

...his other favorite ride is Paul Bunyon's Log Ride.

A couple of shots from Moose Mountain Golf at Mall of America.

Ian doing what Ian does best: creating with LEGOs.

After a rest at home, Ian and I went to a HOPE Kids event, a video games night. It was hosted by a local home media shop, and it featured all the current systems and some really fun games. Ian paused from playing Wii long enough to try his hand at Dance Dance Revolution and Rock Band.






If you haven't read the latest CaringBridge post yet, and in case you are interested, Ian is being baptized tomorrow (11/16) at 1:30, at Berean Baptist Church. Afterwards, there will be a short reception in room 113 at the church.

If you are able to come, we would love to have you there to celebrate with us. This is something that Ian wanted and asked for without being prompted, and we're ecstatic that this could be arranged before we start any possible further treatments. I want to send a big "Thank You" to those friends who stretched to make this possible; you dear friends have no idea how much this means to us.

Thank You For Being a Friend (Graces and Mercies, Tom)

A friend loves at all times,
and a brother is born for adversity
- Proverbs 17:17

We're getting a big blessing this weekend. One of my best friends and his lovely wife are visiting from Columbia, Missouri. Paul and I met (if my dim memory serves me) in preschool, and we have been friends ever since. Through grade school, junior high and high school, we saw each other daily, and at least once or twice a week through college. I moved to Minneapolis in 1993; Paul and I have made occasional attempts to catch up with one another since then, but this is a rare opportunity to really see what the past 15 years have done to each other.

That, and play some of the video games that we used to play in college, like Blades of Steel and Super Dodge-Ball...

More Thoughts On the New Normal (Tom)

I almost gave this the label (Ian), but that's not true; this is about me.

I was listening to a local Christian radio station on the way to work Thursday morning.  The DJ read a post from a blog by a young girl who has cerebral palsy, as well as other issues.  She talked about how much it hurts when other people stare at her.  My first thought was:

How awful!  I would never do that.

My second thought:

Thank you, Lord, that my child doesn't have to deal with people staring at him.

My third thought:

Oh yeah...Ian will have to deal with that.

I had just remembered that, when we go to DisneyWorld (18 days and counting), we're going to draw attention.  For every ride, we're going to go straight to the front of the line. That sounds really cool, but I'm sure it's going to draw attention.  We'll also have some kind of stickers that announce we're a "Make-a-Wish" family.  More than likely, some people will stare at us.

So be it.

They will see a little boy who is getting the reward from a really rotten summer.   They will see parents to are getting the gift of being able to see their only child have the time of his life.  They will see a grandmother who will be enjoying time with her family that is precious and special.  They will a family who are rejoicing in the midst of circumstances for which nobody would ask.

Let 'em watch.

On the other hand... (Graces and Mercies, Tom)

I asked Deb to look at that last post, and she thought it was a little big fatalistic...OK, maybe a lot fatalistic. She pointed out that, not only are do we still have a live little boy, he's actually doing very well. There are no tumor symptoms, we're working on the existing conditions successfully, and he's doing very well in school.

So, it's obvious that something is causing me to paint everything black from time to time. It's sometimes difficult to see spiritual warfare for what it is when the enemy is actively engaging me, but that's 90% of the battle, IMHO. So, in order to more effectively combat this, I've started reading the followup to Victory Over the Darkness. It's The Bondage Breaker (once again, by Neil Anderson). I've just started it, but from what I've read so far, it seems like one of the best materials I've seen that deals with personal spiritual warfare. The premise is simple: Satan's weapon is the lie. Our counter-weapon is God's truth.

Stay tuned for more postings as I get more into this book.

Report from Advance III (Tom, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I got back from the Advance III last night, and my mind is still working through this past weekend, trying to pick out what I need to take away from it. To be blunt, it just wasn't as life-changing as the Advance II was in 2006. Then again, if events like that happened often, then they wouldn't be as life-changing.

It's not that it wasn't a good weekend...it just didn't match up to what I have been expecting for two years. It's not anyone's fault, per se. It's just...well, read on.

Things were OK on Friday night, in spite of a storm that rolled through. We listened to the testimony of Johnny Turnipseed, and had fun playing ping-pong.

On Saturday morning, they showed a movie titled "Most." It's a Czech movie with subtitles; you can see the trailer here:



It's about a man with a little boy...about Ian's age...who has to make a concious decision to either save his son, or a train filled with passengers. It's well-made, and I recommend that you see it if you get the chance. However, I couldn't watch it. Ultimately, I walked out once it became evident what was going to happen. The relationship between the father and son was too much like what I have with Ian. Seeing this man take such joy in spending time with his beloved son, then knowing that he would have to let to boy go, hit too close to home for me.

I stormed out of the chapel. There were a few men lingering around who were very perceptive, and picked up on the fact that something was wrong (probably punching the door on my way out was a clue.) The men with whom I talked understood completely, and were gracious about giving me the "permission" I needed to let my emotions out. As one of them put it, "You got to be strong when you get home to your family. You don't got to be strong here."

Unfortunately, it felt like I went around all day and evening on Saturday with an emotional toxic waste dump oozing out of my chest, and I couldn't find any place to put it.

Still, there were some very positive things that happened. It was still nice to get away to a beautiful area of Minnesota. I got to spend some quality time with a couple of men from my Heart of a Warrior group. Most of all, I got the opportunity to spend some time with a young man who reminds me very much of myself, and whom I am respecting more every time I see him. I was thrilled when I found out that he's planning on going through the Heart of a Warrior curriculum, and I look forward to hearing about that journey.

I was pretty lazy about taking pictures, and for some reason getting them posted is taking more effort than usual. Here's the ones that I got up tonight:

This is Frank Bower, former mafia enforcer, now a pastor. He's also a UFC fighter (14 wins, 2 losses). Looking at that picture, I feel absolutely ridiculous holding my puny fist up to this guy.

This is Dr. Greg Bourgond, the founder of Heart of a Warrior Minstries. He's one man whom I seize any chance I get to be around. His very presence is an encouragement.

Here are a couple of shots of the camp. Like I said, I was lazy;
these just don't do the place justice.

Additionally, I got to know some great men there. PJ, Chad, Damon, Brenden, and others. It was a blessing just to be in the company of men who love Jesus, and have a sincere desire to serve Him in their day-to-day lives.

Past Due for a Post (Tom, Graces and Mercies)

Wow...has it been that long since I've written anything?

I keep thinking that I need to write something here, and I get an occasional flash of inspiration, but it's usually gone when something shiny appears. I do tend to get distracted fairly quickly.

If anyone is wondering, here's what's been going on lately:

Ian is doing great, for the most part. He started first grade, and except for the things that most first graders wrestle against (except perhaps for an unbelievable fear of fruit), he's doing great. Seriously--the kid can't stand to be around fruit. Anyway, his physical education teacher is watching him very closely, and has given us good reports. We still see some weakness on one side, but it's nothing like what he used to exhibit. That, and he seems to be having some trouble swallowing his own saliva from time to time. That scares the literal pee out of me, since it could be a big symptom. He has no problems drinking from a cup-he used to gag and choke occasionally, when the tumor was in full force-but not anymore, which is comforting. From what I remember, and IANAPNO(1), this is a symptom of radiation scatter, not of the tumor.  For some reason, I can handle that better.

I finished reading Disappointment With God by Phillip Yancy.  I want to say that I enjoyed the book, and I did, but it seems like that shouldn't be the kind of book one would enjoy.  It deals with three questions:

• Is God unfair?
• Is God silent?
• Is God hidden?

By the way, the answers can be surprising.

The subject matter in the book was something that I had to read and meditate on, better now than later.  At the moment, Ian's doing well, and there is definite hope.  But, at some point, the bottom is going to drop out again.  Either with Ian, with the hospital bills, or some other piece of life is going to come crashing into our home.  I want to have my worldview set in stone, so that my heart is guarded when the enemy comes against us.

This book helped in that regard.  In the first half, Yancy cruises through the whole of scripture, except for the book of Job, to obtain God's point of view for those questions.  In the second half, he focuses on the book of Job.  I've put off reading Job through this season of life.  Job has almost struck me as almost removed from real life.  It's been difficult for me to relate to the sheer amount of suffering that Job endured, and the monologues seem almost...Shakespearean.  Yet, after reading Yancey's book, and with a little bit more maturity, Job is coming more alive to me.  One part that stood out was in chapter 9, when Job discusses wanting to confront God about his suffering:

He is not a man like me that I may answer Him,
that we might confront each other in court.
If only there were someone to arbitrate between us,
to lay his hand upon us both,
someone to remove God's rod from me,
so that his terror would frighten me no more.
Then I would speak up without fear of Him,
but as it now stands with me, I cannot.

Job seems to clearly understand where he stands with God (i.e, he can't stand against God).  Job is aware of his own sin and wickedness, and longs for an intermediary.  I discussed this in an earlier post, about how aware I was one Sunday about Christ's final atonement, and how that allowed me to approach God at any time.  When I'm finally in Heaven, I look forward to talking with the saints from the Old Testament, to get an idea of how incredible a thing it is to be able to approach God the Father freely, without fear.  (Although, since we will actually see God at that time, I'll probably have my own idea).

Lastly, I want to publicly thank all of the men from my small group who showed up for my surprise birthday party.  For years, when I would see a surprise party in a movie or TV show, I've always wanted one.  Thanks for taking the time to wish me well and celebrate.

Ok, I'm done rambling.  I promise a bit more coherency in the next post.

(1) I Am Not A Pediatric Neuro-Oncologist

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."

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.

Facial Hair (Pictures)

I've had a couple of people express some curiosity about what I look like now that I've neglected the razor for a month and a half. Well, not neglected, per se; we're mere acquaintances now. I have no clue why I decided to grow a small beard. The only reason I've been satisfied with is that I can do it, and that's enough.

Here's the current growth:

It was longer, but I mistakenly trimmed it with the clippers at the lowest setting. I'll post more pictures once I can get a better one. The other attempts at documenting my adventure in extended stubble had me looking like I was three sheets to the wind.


Also, contrary to what this photo shows, there is hair all around my mouth. It's just blonde...greyish blonde...yeah, that's it.