Health, Wholeness, and Hope

When I wrote my post on "80% chance," it was meant to be a "where I am right now" sort of reflection. Thing is, I haven't really moved, but rather become more convicted that this is where I stand on this. Will I still talk to my surgeon about it? Of course. Will I consult a plastic surgeon? Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I want to make this decision with all the information I can get. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like such a drastic move as a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy at age 29 is unnecessary.

This is not to say that I don't trust the good doctors at Dana Farber. If their job is to make the cancer go away and do all they can to make sure it doesn't come back - then yes, cutting off my breasts is the way to go. Eliminate my risk to 0, so I never have to worry about it again. But this doesn't take into account other aspects of my health.

I took a class as a part of my STM degree (master of sacred theology) called Health and Salvation. On the first day, we were asked to reflect on the relationship between health and salvation. The essential link that I came up with between these two was HOPE. Perhaps this was because we had just come out of the Advent/Christmas season, which is all about hope. Perhaps it was because at the beginning of that particular Advent, my grandma passed away, and following her lovely funeral, everyone kept commenting, "It was so full of hope!" Whatever it was, hope became for me a key part of both health and salvation.

Throughout the rest of the class, we talked a lot about the meaning of health and wholeness, and how these terms are defined. And that image of hope stayed with me. For wholeness (and hence health) I also think about the balance of mind, soul, body, spirit, etc., as I reflected on a bit before. Whatever it includes, it does not include acting out of fear. I don't believe I need my breasts to feel whole (at least not in the long rung, though the immediate emotional response to such a step would quite possibly be a sense of lacking). My breasts do not represent my wholeness any more than they represent the entirety of my health.

Yesterday, Michael and I met with my medical oncologist. When I told her what Dana Farber had suggested, she looked quite surprised. She did not feel that was necessary. She said my prognostic score after my surgeries and such was quite low, which is good. As I understand it, this reflects my risk of recurrence, based on aggressiveness, size, margins, etc. She agreed that waiting to do anything more would be fine, as long as I am diligent about self exams, clinical exams, ultra sounds, and mammograms (even if pregnant, I can get a mammogram if they find something they need to check out). I asked, "Does it sound too risky for me to say no, I won't have Tamoxifen, radiation, or a mastectomy, and just take my chances?" She said not at all. 80% is pretty good chances, and I would be well taken care of in the meantime.

So 80% is where I remain. The decision isn't made yet, but that is where Michael and I are both leaning pretty strongly.

I'd be interested in hearing other people's thoughts on what health and wholeness mean - physically, spiritually, emotionally, whatever. We've been doing a lot of thinking and praying about this, but I am always interested in other people's input. Thanks.

Sermon: We are enough (Nov. 25, 2012)

Christ the King Sunday, B

November 25, 2012

John 18:33-37           

Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.

         So: how many of you got started on your Christmas preparations this weekend? Shopping? Decorating? Crafting? In our culture, of course, Thanksgiving weekend has come to be the official kick-off for the holiday season. Often, the church-year agrees. More often than not, I’d say, this first Sunday after Thanksgiving is the first Sunday in Advent, the first of four Sundays we spend waiting for and anticipating the birth of Christ. Because of how early Thanksgiving fell this year, however, we ended up with this extra week in November before Advent, and so this year, this first Sunday after Thanksgiving is not yet Advent, but Christ the King Sunday.

         Christ the King Sunday has an interesting history. It’s a fairly new festival for the church, born in 1925. After World War I, Europe was in a state of economic uncertainty, and people were putting their trust in anything they could find that promised to rescue them. More and more, this was not religion, but politicians and political parties. In response, Pope Pius the 11^th instigated an annual Sunday feast to celebrate and assert the “Kingship of our Savior.” This would be a day when knees would bend and homage would be paid to Christ, in order to witness to the day when every knee in heaven and on earth and under the earth would bow to Christ and confess him as Lord.

         Though it was begun by a Catholic pope, today many mainline Protestants recognize Christ the King Sunday as a day when we celebrate our unity with all Christians on earth, a day when we pray, as we did in our prayer of the day this morning, that “all the people of the earth, now divided by the power of sin, may be united by the glorious and gentle rule of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.” Not a bad thing to celebrate, especially as we anticipate our entrance into the season when we prepare our hearts to give glory to the newborn King, the babe in Bethlehem, Jesus. Really, not a bad thing to celebrate any day! The week of the election this month, several of my friends from all different political persuasions were posting on Facebook a picture that said, “No matter who is president, Jesus is King!” How true! Now that is something we can all rally around!

         It’s interesting that one of the readings that is assigned for today, the one from the Gospel of John, is one that we typically hear on Good Friday, when were not thinking about Jesus crowned in glory, but in a crown of thorns. It is from Jesus’ trial. It’s certainly a dramatic scene, one in which Pilate seems to be as much on trial as Jesus is, with all of Jesus’ answers that are really questions! You know, I always really felt for Pilate. The way he is mentioned in the creed, he has been immortalized as the villain: “crucified under Pontius Pilate,” we say. But when you actually read this story, it’s not so clear that Pilate wanted Jesus crucified. Just before this snippet we hear today, Pilate vacillates, going between his quarters and the patio where Jesus is waiting seven times. He is wavering! He tries to get Jesus off the hook, saying he sees nothing he has done wrong. The thing is, Pilate knows what is the right thing to do. But he also knows what is the easy thing to do, the politically expedient thing to do, and that is to give into the crowds, and have Jesus, the ruler of a kingdom that is not of this world, crucified.

         We’ve all been in that place: having to decide between the right thing and the easy thing, the right thing and the thing that will make people stop complaining, the right thing and the lazy thing. This comes up in many ways in our Christian life. One example that is a constant struggle for many of us, I think, is the tension between two lifestyles: the one of simplicity and God-centeredness, and the one of consumerism that is so prevalent in our culture. Jesus would have us sell all our possessions and give the proceeds to the poor, and leave everything and follow him, and give not just our coat but our cloak as well, not just our one cheek, but the other as well. But even for the most faithful among us, this may be the right choice, but it is not the easy one.

         Never is this more apparent then this weekend each year, the kick-off for the holiday season and all the shopping and consumption that goes with it. I do love Thanksgiving weekend, but I admit that this year more than any other, I have really noticed a disconnect. Thanksgiving is the one day that Americans have set aside to simply be thankful, to remember the many gifts that we have, to appreciate our families and the bounty we enjoy by means of a fabulous feast. My memories of Thanksgiving were always very relaxed – we went to church in the morning, and then spent the rest of the day at home with family and good friends, just enjoying life. It is, simply put, a day of enough. Then, the very next morning, it’s as if we wake up and think, “Wait, I DON’T have enough! We need more!” and off we go to buy buy buy, lots of presents for ourselves and others that people really don’t need and maybe don’t even want. Maybe the reason this hit me more this year than it has before is all the stores that started Black Friday on Thanksgiving evening. Really, folks?? You can’t give us one full day when we truly feel like we already have enough??

         And yet, how quickly we jump on board. Even Michael and I, both dedicated to staying home on Black Friday, were watching TV and saw a commercial for Best Buy and commented that that really was an extraordinary price for a TV, something we’re in the market for. I seriously considered going to Joann Fabrics to get some fabric I needed for 75% off. So tempting! How difficult it is not to give in! How we waver, like Pilate, between the right thing, and the easy thing.

         So why do we do it? Why is it so easy to give in to our culture, instead of giving in whole-heartedly to Christ and his truth? Could it be because we place some sense of our worth in our possessions? Could it be that the noise of our consumerist culture convinces us that we will be somehow less if we don’t give in? Pilate wavered, but the people demanded that Jesus be crucified. And Pilate, even with the Truth standing right in front of him, gave in to the crowd. Perhaps it was so that they wouldn’t think any less of him?

         But here’s the thing: what you have or don’t have or do or not do is not what gives you worth. You are worthy, you are enough, because God says you are. Today at Bethlehem we experienced a baptism: Molly Valentine O’Grady. We experienced how God claimed this beautiful child and loves her and deems her worthy and enough – just like God did this in our own baptism. We experienced the extraordinary love that God has for this child, and for each one of us – not for who we could have been, or for who we are trying to be, or for who we intend to be, but for exactly who and what we are.

         So the proximity of Thanksgiving to this particular feast day, Christ the King, is helpful for our remembering this. We have enough and are enough. We don’t have to do anything or buy anything to earn God’s love because God has already given us that love freely and abundantly in Jesus Christ, the King. And in realizing that, we won’t have less, we will have more: more peace, more joy, more contentment, a more profound sense of belonging and more clear idea of just how precious we are to God, the giver of all good things.

         Let us pray. Christ, the King of all that is: you have claimed us and made us enough. You have made us your beloved creatures. Help us to be content in that, so that we will overcome the demands of the world around us, and have the courage to follow in the truth that is your kingdom. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

80% chance

Here's where I am right now.

I woke up yesterday and started reading about mastectomies and reconstruction - options, recovery time, etc. (Good way to start Thanksgiving, right? Right.) It sounds absolutely horrible. So after all that, I was feeling like I don't want to do this, not one bit. The impact of reconstruction (whether implants or using tissue from elsewhere in my body) sounds terrible and scary, and the thought of looking at myself and seeing nothing sounds even worse. I Don't Want To Do This.

But it's more than that. We've been saying, "15-20% chance of recurrence." You know what that means? It means I have an 80-85% chance that nothing will come back! That sounds pretty good to me! The way we've been talking about this, it's like it's a sure thing that it will come back in one breast or the other or both, and even that if it does, it will be something life threatening. Not so! There's a 20% chance tops that it will, and of that, a fair chance it will be something non-threatening like the DCIS I already got, that can be removed in one minor, outpatient surgery.

I understand why some people choose to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. Some women WANT to do this. I do not. Not one part of me does. I understand why someone wouldn't want the risk of "the C-word" hanging over their head, and will take all measures to eliminate that risk. But you know what? Been there, done that. I have had the risk of breast cancer hanging over my head for the past 13 years, not to mention the risk of lymphoma recurring, and guess what? It hasn't affected my quality of life in the least. I'm used to it.

Furthermore, say I do cut out (literally) my risk for getting breast cancer again. I'm still going to get in my car and run all those risks. I'm still going to walk my clumsy self up and down stairs every day and run all those risks. I'm still going to be around secondhand smoke, and walk on busy streets, and (God willing) give birth, and live in a city with a lot of violence, and run all the same risks as everyone does to develop a cancer for no apparent reason, just like I did with Hodgkin's. Cutting off my breasts won't take away my risk of dying or getting sick or being injured. It won't restore my peace of mind, because as I said, I haven't had that in 13 years anyway.

So I am really wanting to focus on my 80-85% chance of never seeing breast cancer again, and doing all I can without a surgical knife to be in that 80-85% - take the right vitamins, get exercise, eat right, foster an overall healthy lifestyle, do my self-breast exams, and get regular check ups. When I think about health as wholeness, my boobs are not what come to mind. I think about feeling good, and quality of life, and feeling comfortable in myself, and emotional health, and being surrounded by people I love, and living my life without fear. All of that sounds a LOT better than preemptively cutting off my boobs.

Sermon: Thanksgiving 2012

Thanksgiving Day B

November 21, 2012

Matt 6:25-33

1 Tim 2:1-7, Joel 2:21-27

  

         As some of you know, I spent a year of my life living in a village in Slovakia as a missionary. I struggled that year to learn the language, a language with complex grammar and too many consonants, and I quickly learned to cling to those few words and phrases I knew very well. One that I learned early on was “neboj sa!” Don’t worry! It’s not one I would immediately think to be very common, but it does pop up more than I realized: when someone is upset, when someone apologizes, when I want to simply say, “It’s no big deal,” neboj sa, don’t worry is what comes out of my mouth.

         It’s a common phrase to say in English too, of course. It must be because worry is so very prevalent in our world, so the simple suggestion to NOT worry seems appropriate in many situations. It’s so easy to worry, to take 3 or 4 steps down the road and try to anticipate the unknown. As soon as we feel we don’t have as much control in a situation as we would like to, worry is often the first place we go. Oh, we all know how much good it does – that is, no good at all. Even Jesus’ words in our Gospel lesson from Matthew remind us that worrying doesn’t do much good. Jesus wisely asks us, “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” Well no, of course not! And studies show that in fact the opposite is true, that worry causes stress that decreases one’s lifespan! And yet, neither the wisdom of modern science nor the wisdom of Jesus himself can pull us out of our desperate tendency to worry.

         I would love to just tell you, “Don’t worry! Trust, and God will take care of it!” and believe everything would be fine. Truth is, that probably won’t stop very many of us from worrying! So instead, let’s try to understand some ways to overcome our inevitable worry when we feel it creeping into our hearts and minds, so that it doesn’t keep such a grip on us.

         So how can we overcome worry? The key statement Jesus makes in our Gospel lesson this evening is at the very end: “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” It’s sort of an, “If you build it, they will come,” mentality, but in this case, it is, “Strive for the kingdom of God, and the rest will follow.” Well in order to strive for something, we need to know what we’re striving for. So the first question we have to ask ourselves, then, is: what is the kingdom of God?

         Our other texts for today give us some insight into this. One thing about the kingdom of God: it is a time and place where God’s abundance is clear to all, and where we all trust enough to rely on that abundance. Our passage from Joel speaks of a time of true abundance, where God has made every tree to bear fruit, and rain to come down. “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,” he says, “and praise the name of the LORD your God, who has dealt wondrously with you. And my people shall never again be put to shame.”

It is hard to imagine a time like this when you consider that half of the world’s population doesn’t have proper access to clean water, or that every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger. It’s hard to imagine when you see how many people in our communities are served by our food cupboards. Certainly, these are things to worry about! But trusting in this promise of abundance from God is the first step – at the very least, it offers hope in times of despair. At best, it draws us closer to God in trust, and encourages us to work toward that goal. It gives us direction, an ideal to work toward, and the hope and strength to achieve that ideal that is the kingdom of God.

         In this time around Thanksgiving Day, we think a lot about abundance. Especially around stewardship season, we often talk about the difference between an attitude of abundance and an attitude of scarcity. An attitude of scarcity tells us that whatever we have, it’s never quite enough. An attitude of abundance relishes in the many gifts we have been given, and opens our hearts to sharing those gifts. That year I spent in Slovakia, I lived out of one and a half suitcases for the whole year. I would sometimes wear just one or two outfits the whole week – which felt just fine because that’s what everyone else did. Now back in the States, I have a lot more than one suitcase worth of clothes, and yet I never seem to have just the article of clothing that I need. How can that be, when I have many times more options than I did that year in Slovakia? That’s the difference, see, between an attitude of scarcity and an attitude of abundance. In an attitude of abundance, I was glad to have a coat to keep me warm, and pants that fit and roughly matched my shirt. When I have much, I need much more to keep myself satisfied.

         Timothy also offers us important instruction on how to strive for the kingdom of God in our second lesson. He writes, “I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” Prayer is a powerful thing. It can be a very transformative thing in many ways. I am struck in Timothy’s words by his specification to pray for kings and those in high positions. How many of you pray regularly for our president? Regardless of who the president is or what party he represents, we tend to hear a lot more slander than we do praise of our president, or any political leader for that matter. It is easy to make political leaders the enemy, if they fall at all short of perfection, or if they’re not doing things exactly like we want them to be done. But Timothy says we should pray for everyone, even our political leaders, even – and maybe, especially – if we don’t agree with them. I don’t mean pray that they would change. I mean pray for them, for the their health, their well-being, that they would be guided by God’s will. This, he writes, is “so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” This is another aspect of the kingdom of God for which Jesus urges us to strive: to lead a peaceable life. And when you pray for your enemies, for people that cause you frustration or even anger, it may or may not change them, but it certainly changes you. It is hard to hate someone for whom you pray regularly. And doing away with hate and living peaceably – that is certainly a part of the kingdom of God.

On this Eve of Thanksgiving, what if we took this to another level: what if we not only prayed for, but gave thanks for our enemies? What if we gave thanks for the things that cause us worry or distress? In the book The Hiding Place, Corrie and her sister Betsy find themselves in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. Living in tight, flea-infested barracks, it is hard to be thankful for anything, but one day, they begin listing all the things they DO have to be thankful for. They are thankful to be together, assigned to the same barracks. They are thankful that they still have their Bible, and are able to bring those words of hope to so many of their fellow prisoners. They are thankful for the daily worship services they are able to lead in their flea-filled barracks. Now on a roll, Betsy gives thanks for the fleas, too! Corrie is doubtful that this is truly something to be thankful for… until they realize that the reason they are able to hold their worship services and read their Bible at all is that none of the guards want to step foot in that overcrowded, flea-infested place. Because of the fleas, they are afforded some small amount of privacy they would not otherwise have had. Had they not prayed in thanksgiving for those annoying little fleas, their hearts would not have been opened to the possibility that God was blessing them so richly.

         This is how prayer, and especially prayers of thanksgiving, work, and how God works through prayers. When we are thankful, when we foster an attitude of abundance instead of scarcity, when we see the work God already does in our lives, we allow our hearts to be opened to that work. When we dwell on worry, or on hate, or on all that we do not have, our hearts are closed, and we cannot see God’s abundance. Thanksgiving Day is a wonderful reminder for us to give thanks – not just for the obvious gifts and abundance God has poured on us, but also for those things that are difficult to understand, that cause us to worry.

         Worry is inevitable. But it need not keep its grip on us. “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” Jesus tells us, “and all [that you need] will be given to you as well.” This Thanksgiving – and every day, for that matter – I hope you will find a way to give thanks not only for the abundance God has provided, but also for the worries, the distress, the fleas that you find in your life.

Let us pray. God of all grace and abundance, we give you thanks this day for our many blessings, and we give thanks for the many things in this life that challenge us. Guide us to see your love in all things, and help us to live fully in your abundance and strive to live peaceably in your kingdom.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.Thanksgiving Day B

November 21, 2012

Matt 6:25-33

1 Tim 2:1-7, Joel 2:21-27

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         As some of you know, I spent a year of my life living in a village in Slovakia as a missionary. I struggled that year to learn the language, a language with complex grammar and too many consonants, and I quickly learned to cling to those few words and phrases I knew very well. One that I learned early on was “neboj sa!” Don’t worry! It’s not one I would immediately think to be very common, but it does pop up more than I realized: when someone is upset, when someone apologizes, when I want to simply say, “It’s no big deal,” neboj sa, don’t worry is what comes out of my mouth.

         It’s a common phrase to say in English too, of course. It must be because worry is so very prevalent in our world, so the simple suggestion to NOT worry seems appropriate in many situations. It’s so easy to worry, to take 3 or 4 steps down the road and try to anticipate the unknown. As soon as we feel we don’t have as much control in a situation as we would like to, worry is often the first place we go. Oh, we all know how much good it does – that is, no good at all. Even Jesus’ words in our Gospel lesson from Matthew remind us that worrying doesn’t do much good. Jesus wisely asks us, “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” Well no, of course not! And studies show that in fact the opposite is true, that worry causes stress that decreases one’s lifespan! And yet, neither the wisdom of modern science nor the wisdom of Jesus himself can pull us out of our desperate tendency to worry.

         I would love to just tell you, “Don’t worry! Trust, and God will take care of it!” and believe everything would be fine. Truth is, that probably won’t stop very many of us from worrying! So instead, let’s try to understand some ways to overcome our inevitable worry when we feel it creeping into our hearts and minds, so that it doesn’t keep such a grip on us.

         So how can we overcome worry? The key statement Jesus makes in our Gospel lesson this evening is at the very end: “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” It’s sort of an, “If you build it, they will come,” mentality, but in this case, it is, “Strive for the kingdom of God, and the rest will follow.” Well in order to strive for something, we need to know what we’re striving for. So the first question we have to ask ourselves, then, is: what is the kingdom of God?

         Our other texts for today give us some insight into this. One thing about the kingdom of God: it is a time and place where God’s abundance is clear to all, and where we all trust enough to rely on that abundance. Our passage from Joel speaks of a time of true abundance, where God has made every tree to bear fruit, and rain to come down. “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,” he says, “and praise the name of the LORD your God, who has dealt wondrously with you. And my people shall never again be put to shame.”

It is hard to imagine a time like this when you consider that half of the world’s population doesn’t have proper access to clean water, or that every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger. It’s hard to imagine when you see how many people in our communities are served by our food cupboards. Certainly, these are things to worry about! But trusting in this promise of abundance from God is the first step – at the very least, it offers hope in times of despair. At best, it draws us closer to God in trust, and encourages us to work toward that goal. It gives us direction, an ideal to work toward, and the hope and strength to achieve that ideal that is the kingdom of God.

         In this time around Thanksgiving Day, we think a lot about abundance. Especially around stewardship season, we often talk about the difference between an attitude of abundance and an attitude of scarcity. An attitude of scarcity tells us that whatever we have, it’s never quite enough. An attitude of abundance relishes in the many gifts we have been given, and opens our hearts to sharing those gifts. That year I spent in Slovakia, I lived out of one and a half suitcases for the whole year. I would sometimes wear just one or two outfits the whole week – which felt just fine because that’s what everyone else did. Now back in the States, I have a lot more than one suitcase worth of clothes, and yet I never seem to have just the article of clothing that I need. How can that be, when I have many times more options than I did that year in Slovakia? That’s the difference, see, between an attitude of scarcity and an attitude of abundance. In an attitude of abundance, I was glad to have a coat to keep me warm, and pants that fit and roughly matched my shirt. When I have much, I need much more to keep myself satisfied.

         Timothy also offers us important instruction on how to strive for the kingdom of God in our second lesson. He writes, “I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” Prayer is a powerful thing. It can be a very transformative thing in many ways. I am struck in Timothy’s words by his specification to pray for kings and those in high positions. How many of you pray regularly for our president? Regardless of who the president is or what party he represents, we tend to hear a lot more slander than we do praise of our president, or any political leader for that matter. It is easy to make political leaders the enemy, if they fall at all short of perfection, or if they’re not doing things exactly like we want them to be done. But Timothy says we should pray for everyone, even our political leaders, even – and maybe, especially – if we don’t agree with them. I don’t mean pray that they would change. I mean pray for them, for the their health, their well-being, that they would be guided by God’s will. This, he writes, is “so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” This is another aspect of the kingdom of God for which Jesus urges us to strive: to lead a peaceable life. And when you pray for your enemies, for people that cause you frustration or even anger, it may or may not change them, but it certainly changes you. It is hard to hate someone for whom you pray regularly. And doing away with hate and living peaceably – that is certainly a part of the kingdom of God.

On this Eve of Thanksgiving, what if we took this to another level: what if we not only prayed for, but gave thanks for our enemies? What if we gave thanks for the things that cause us worry or distress? In the book The Hiding Place, Corrie and her sister Betsy find themselves in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. Living in tight, flea-infested barracks, it is hard to be thankful for anything, but one day, they begin listing all the things they DO have to be thankful for. They are thankful to be together, assigned to the same barracks. They are thankful that they still have their Bible, and are able to bring those words of hope to so many of their fellow prisoners. They are thankful for the daily worship services they are able to lead in their flea-filled barracks. Now on a roll, Betsy gives thanks for the fleas, too! Corrie is doubtful that this is truly something to be thankful for… until they realize that the reason they are able to hold their worship services and read their Bible at all is that none of the guards want to step foot in that overcrowded, flea-infested place. Because of the fleas, they are afforded some small amount of privacy they would not otherwise have had. Had they not prayed in thanksgiving for those annoying little fleas, their hearts would not have been opened to the possibility that God was blessing them so richly.

         This is how prayer, and especially prayers of thanksgiving, work, and how God works through prayers. When we are thankful, when we foster an attitude of abundance instead of scarcity, when we see the work God already does in our lives, we allow our hearts to be opened to that work. When we dwell on worry, or on hate, or on all that we do not have, our hearts are closed, and we cannot see God’s abundance. Thanksgiving Day is a wonderful reminder for us to give thanks – not just for the obvious gifts and abundance God has poured on us, but also for those things that are difficult to understand, that cause us to worry.

         Worry is inevitable. But it need not keep its grip on us. “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” Jesus tells us, “and all [that you need] will be given to you as well.” This Thanksgiving – and every day, for that matter – I hope you will find a way to give thanks not only for the abundance God has provided, but also for the worries, the distress, the fleas that you find in your life.

Let us pray. God of all grace and abundance, we give you thanks this day for our many blessings, and we give thanks for the many things in this life that challenge us. Guide us to see your love in all things, and help us to live fully in your abundance and strive to live peaceably in your kingdom.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Not so fast, there...

And here I thought I wouldn't find anything else to write about.

I do love roller coasters, especially with lots of twists and turns, but the roller coaster of my health is just not fun anymore.

Yesterday my doctor in Boston called me. Even though they still hadn't received the slides from my first surgery or my radiation records, they talked about me at the tumor board, so he was calling to tell me what they had said. Present in this discussion was one doctor who specializes in Hodgkin's survivors who have developed breast cancer, and one who specializes in young women with cancer. (You can see why I opted for Boston! It's like they KNOW me!) Taking what data they have on cases like mine, and my particular age and life goals, they had a conversation about my next steps.

Turns out my risk for breast cancer reappearing in the next 5 years is considerably higher than we were led to believe. Because both sides were equally exposed to radiation, I'm like a ticking breast cancer time bomb; whatever it was that turned some breast tissue into carcinoma on the left side is still working on the right, and could potentially rear its ugly head at any moment. The risk of something appearing in the next 5 years in the affected breast is about 15%, and about 18-20% in the opposite breast. For average DCIS patients, risk starts small and increases, but for patients like me, the risk of recurrence in the short term is much greater.

Now, if they could be sure it would recur as DCIS, that would be simple because it is very treatable. Just snip snip, sew sew, and it's out. But they can't be sure of that; it could come back as something invasive. Or it could not come back at all. There's just no way to tell.

So what do they recommend? At the end of the day, they are urging me to seriously consider a bilateral mastectomy, either all right now, or one right now and one after I breast-feed. (By now, I've let my dream of breast-feeding go. Would be great if I could, but if I'm going to do this all eventually, let's just get 'er done all at once. As my dad pointed out, he wasn't breast-fed, and he turned out pretty well.) One doctor, the one specializing in young woman, said a bilateral mastectomy in the near future might even be better for facilitating my goals (child-bearing) because I could just take away the risk entirely and be able to be there for my children without either having to do this surgery while they are young, or turning up with invasive breast cancer and having to deal with that with a couple of rug rats under toe.

They have a group of 18 women like me - Hodgkin's survivors with breast cancer. Of those 18, 14 opted for the bilateral mastectomy. Of the four who didn't, two of them developed breast cancer again in three years. Now granted, that is a small sample. But pretty sobering.

So what's a girl (who is planning her wedding and would sort of like to fill out a dress, not to mention a swimming suit on her honeymoon) to do? I feel awful. I had decided not to even start processing this possibility until well down the line. All the weight I felt had been lifted from my shoulders now feels like it has been dropped back on from several feet up. It might as well be July again. It would almost be easier if they'd just said to me, "It's invasive. They've got to come off." Great, tell me what to do. But to have this, "Well, your risk is higher than most, about a 20% chance you could get something else that may or may not be life threatening..." What do I do with that?? I mean, 20% risk - driving my car on any given day is as life-threatening as that!

Really all that's keeping me from hacking these trouble-makers off at this point is my vanity. I'm kind of fond of them, to be honest, despite the mischief they've caused. Also, it feels like over-treatment, a bit. Pretty drastic move for 20% risk. Reconstruction is of course an option, but the recovery is so long, and the possibility of taking tissue from elsewhere in my body to fill up the new boobs is tricky when I don't really have a lot to spare. (Doggone my healthy physique.)

And where does planning a wedding fit into all of this? If I had this done, say, in the spring, am I really gonna be ready for a wedding in July? Plus, I have learned that two VIPs won't be able to be at the wedding on July 20, like deal-breaker important. God, are you trying to tell me that July is not the time? Earlier, then, so I could have a live-in husband to take care of me as I recover? Or later, so I have time to heal and be healthy and ready to start a new life with someone? July was going to work so beautiful for so many reasons... Dang it!

My next appointment with my medical oncologist is on Monday, so I'll talk with her about all this. My next appointment with my surgeon is January 9. Maybe I should move that sooner and ask her what she thinks? Maybe I should keep it in January, and just enjoy Advent and Christmas, my favorite time of year? I don't know. :(

Just when I thought my life was back on track. Cancer is such a jerk.

(By the way, as I was processing all this yesterday, Klaus decided it was a good time to poop and pee on the floor again. Bad dog. That's not the pet therapy I had in mind. At least his cute doggie antics had made me giggle uncontrollably a mere couple hours before.)

Sermon: My Lord, What a Morning! (Nov. 18, 2012)

Pentecost 25B

Mark 13:1-8

         My Lord, what a morning. My Lord, what a morning. Oh, my Lord, what a morning, when the stars begin to fall.

         Indeed, my Lord! What a morning! What a morning, when a “frankenstorm” devastates a city that never sleeps and its surrounding areas, leaving tens of thousands without power or water, and then another storm comes right on its tail. What a morning, when violence breaks out at the slightest provocation, leaving innocent people dead. What a morning, when we legally elect a president, and the next week is full of slander from both sides, threats of seceding from the union, and warnings that the man we elected is paving the way for the antichrist. What a morning when increasing numbers of people in the US list their religious affiliation as “none,” and the church can’t figure out how to turn that around. What a morning, when every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger related causes. My Lord. What a morning!

         It’s hard not to think about these things when we hear these apocalyptic texts, these end times predictions that describe the hardship that is to come. Daniel seems to offer comfort, even as he terrifies. “This coming time is gonna be terrible,” he says. “But don’t worry. In the midst of it, God’s people will be delivered.” Uh, okay, Daniel, if you say so. Jesus is even worse, warning us of wars, famines, earthquakes, and strong buildings tumbling, adding that this is “but the beginning of the birth pangs,” with no promise, at least in this discourse, of anything good that might follow that. Excuse me, Jesus, was this supposed to offer us some hope?

         But sometimes, that’s how we feel, isn’t it? Sometimes it is actual famines, wars, and earthquakes that bring us distress, often without a glimpse of the hope that might follow. There are certainly enough of those in this world to go around – you can hear about them on the news every day. In our more day-to-day lives, these are more metaphoric. It is famines of the soul, when we find ourselves hungry for something missing in our lives – for companionship, for purpose, for meaning, for direction. It is our internal wars, when we are battling addiction, wrestling with difficult relationships, or discerning tough life decisions. It is earth-shaking developments, when we receive life-changing news, whether good or bad: a job lost, an illness diagnosed, a positive pregnancy test, a job promotion that causes you to pick up and move your family to a new city. It is Temples crumbling, our safety nets and sanctuaries no longer providing the comfort they once did: a divorce, a recognition of something in yourself that needs to change, a friend pointing out an unhealthy habit. To any of these, we might wake up and think, “My Lord, what a morning!”

         I implied a moment ago that Jesus’ words today in our Gospel don’t leave us with much hope. What if I told you that, to first century hearers, they did bring hope? Jesus tells them that the Temple will fall, “not one stone left upon another.” Devastating news at the time, I’m sure, but when the Temple did, in fact, fall, 40 years later, they were able to see that Jesus had anticipated that, that even this was in God’s hands. Shortly after Jesus’ death and resurrection, many did come and claim to be him, but his followers could say, “Yes, we knew about this. God knew about this. We will not be led astray.” And that knowledge that we remain in God’s hands, and in God’s awareness, did bring hope to those first century Christians.

         Do something with me for a second. I’m going to read once again these two apocalyptic texts, the one from Daniel and the one from Mark. As you listen, listen for the words or phrases that speak especially to your heart right now. Hold on to those words or phrases.

At that time Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. ²Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. ³Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever. …..

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, "Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!" ²Then Jesus asked him, "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down."

³When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished? ⁵Then Jesus began to say to them, "Beware that no one leads you astray. ⁶Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and they will lead many astray. ⁷When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. ⁸For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs. …

         What are some of those words and phrases that stuck with you? …

         My Lord, what a morning. Not too long ago, as many of you know, I had a major, “Lord, what a morning” experience. Actually, several in a row! Newly engaged and a year into a promising ministry, I got slapped with a cancer diagnosis. Yes, the statistics showed that for someone with my medical history, this was a possibility, and while that helped a little, it didn’t make the pain go away. It’s hard to see from that place what on earth God might have in mind. For my personal life, it was wars and famines and tumbling buildings, it was a potential end to dreams, it was a turning over of life plans.

One evening that was particularly hard, I was talking to my parents. I was lamenting that God seemed to have gifted me in so many ways, but now was putting this big road block in my way. “I have so much to offer!” I said. “Why should this happen right now?” In his pastor-dad way, my dad suggested, “So that you’ll have so much to offer.”

My diagnosis was “but the beginning of the birth pangs.” A beginning can seem like, can even be an end. But an end can also be a beginning. As the birth pangs begin, it isn’t always easy to remember that as a result of that pain, a new child will come into the world. Out of birth pangs comes a child. Out of a cancer diagnosis comes new perspective. Out of death on a cross comes a resurrection. That is our God. Ours is a God whose light shines so brightly that the darkness cannot overcome it. Ours is a God who wipes away tears. Ours is a God who delivers. …

The sermon isn’t complete. When have you thought, “My Lord, what a morning,” and seen God work in that? What word of hope do these texts speak to you?

[Some sort of closing/prayer that uses what people say, if anything. Something like:]

Lord God, we live through many nights in our lives, and awake to many surprising mornings. Grant us the courage and the hearts to see the undying hope that comes in your Son Jesus Christ, that we will have strength to see that in each end, there is also a beginning. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Calm after the storm

After four months of thinking constantly about the next procedure, the next surgery, the next nerve-wracking news I might receive... I admit I'm not really sure what to do with myself now. Well, I mean I guess it's good that Thanksgiving, Advent, and Christmas are around the corner, because that is certainly something to do with myself. In fact, I've been in overdrive at work these past two weeks, finally making up for lost time, visiting a bunch of folks, planning a bunch of services.... I need to remember that just because I'm not sick anymore doesn't mean I should make myself sick by working myself into the ground. Though I also find I'm even more keenly aware of the importance of self-care, so I think I'm okay.

But really, when you're in the midst emotionally intensity, everything is heightened. You don't need to find interest in the everyday things because there's this big external thing that sucks all your attention and energy. Then suddenly it's all done and you're left with... normal. (Just occurred to me, this must be akin to what empty-nesters feel when their last chick flies the coop. Push push push, then suddenly, nothing.) So what do you do with normal?

Well for one thing, you don't suddenly see it as drabber and less interesting than it is. That is the danger, isn't it? There was a time in my life (college-ish) when if something dramatic wasn't going on, then I quickly lost interest. (Perhaps that was a symptom of having had an eventful high school career, which included playing year-round soccer, choir, band, orchestra, honors classes, youth group... not to mention beating cancer, playing with the New York Philharmonic, and being featured on several major news media.) I'd like to think I'm past that need-drama stage now, able to appreciate the joy in little things, the wonder of everydayness, the delight and excitement of each new experience. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But I certainly see great value in simplicity and just enough of the mundane to keep me grounded.

Let me be less vague and more honest. At the end of all this, I admit, I'm not feeling as ecstatic as I am feeling a little let down. Am I happy? Of course! But this a sort of calm following the storm: safer, but less exciting, and less interesting. No, I don't expect this mysteriously boring calm to last - I've got a wedding to plan, after all! I guess I'm just expressing to anyone who wants to "listen" out in cyber space that my next challenge will be to get back to that place of appreciating the mundane, relishing in calmness, and finding joy and delight in everyday stuff. That, and finding things to write about in this blog. :-P