One Journey, Two People: Part 3

My two most recent posts set the stage for a conversation with my husband about his baby boomer angst. Read One Journey, Two People: Part 2 and Part 1 before you judge David’s navel gazing (his words, not mine).

Simply put, he described himself as content a few years back, even to a place where he could “leave this life for the next tomorrow without regret.”  Although far from ready to quit and head for the golf course in his twilight years, a life suddenly interrupted would not be one of ‘I-wish-I-had’s’.  He felt satisfied about his contribution and life’s purpose.  He felt at peace.  An even better description would be shalom; a Hebrew word normally translated as peace but meant to be more – a state where everything is where is should be; a whole and complete existence.  We have all had those fleeting moments when our since of joy or contentment was so complete that we could ‘die this very moment happy.’  To my way of thinking that captures the essence of shalom.

My cancer diagnosis wasn’t the catalyst for Dave’s discontent.  Although often a tremendous strain, providing physical and emotional support to someone you love provides tremendous meaning and purpose.  But he has found himself often flummoxed and pained by not being able to reassure a wife whose fear and angst could be impenetrable at times.  His feeling of inadequacy in being my comforter brought out some deeper stuff.

We both knew that something else was going on.  I agreed to do some research on middle life angst but my findings were not very satisfying to him or me. Previous post explains.

Through this process David has done his own work.  He listed the components of the problem in typical bullet point format.  He felt this angst might be brought on by the following:

  • Loss of influence, insider status or being needed. (This is in part due to his age. Younger people are taking the reins of responsibility and leadership as they should.  Another factor is that at this point in our lives we do not stay in one geographical location long enough to built the connections that can make a difference.)
  • The grand adventure might be over. (Throughout his life David has worked hard to place himself in situations where he could generate stories to tell the grandchrisk-takingildren.  And he does have some great stories that he would love to tell you about.  These opportunities are now mostly in the past.)
  • But still busy. To use a David phrase, “I’m in a rat race in the wrong race.”

David realizes these feelings are not as negative as they might indicate on paper. To his mind, most of the time his world is one of satisfaction and opportunity. He is doing a reasonably good job navigating the transition from the back side of a career peak with its mantle of influence and insider status to one that involves more of a support role. But every so often, and these days more often than he wants, he feels those bullet points as forceful shots across the bow.

Of course, he sees this trap and realizes he must reintegrate himself emotionally into the grand purposes of God.  I say emotionally because he has always put mind and feet to loving God and people.

At this point I have to resist the desire to write something original.  Ego says, “Dazzle David and my readers with my unique insights.”  Common sense says, many wise ones have tread this road before.  If I really want to be helpful then capture their insight.  To quote CS Lewis from Mere Christianity, “Even in literature and art no man who bothers about originality will ever be original whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring two pence how often it has been told before) you will nine times out of ten become original without ever having noticed it.”

So, with that caveat be prepared to hear from a few wise folks who have articulated insights with clarity and spiritual maturity that make sense to David and me.

The Problem:

Tim Keller from his book, “Counterfeit Gods,”

“How can we break our heart’s fixation on doing “some great thing” in order to heal ourselves of our sense of inadequacy in order to give our lives meaning? Only when we see what Jesus, our great suffering servant, has done for us will we finally understand why God’s salvation does not require us to do “some great thing.” We don’t have to do it because Jesus has. Jesus did it all for us and he loves us – that is how we know our existence is justified. When we believe in what he accomplished for us with our minds, and when we are moved by what he did for us in our hearts, it begins to kill off the addiction, the need for success at all costs.

The gospel does not work directly on the emotions or the will. The gospel asks, what is operating in the place of Jesus Christ as your real, functional salvation and Savior? What are you looking to in order to justify yourself? Whatever it is, it is a counterfeit god and to make a change in your life you must identify it and reject it as such.” Tim Keller, page 174 of counterfeit gods.”

The Process

In the book “The Sensation of Being Somebody”, the late Dr. Maurice Wagner, gives a formula for a rock solid self-concept. “God plus me equals a sense of being a somebody.”  He explains that dependence on status, performance and appearance – attributes that many times come out of insecure attachments or over attachments in our childhood – are our default for feeling significant but they end up “biting us in the butt” (Dona’s words).  They are fleeting and unreliable in taking us through life’s challenges and natural aging processes of loss and deficits. They are also dependent on others to justify ourselves as significant. Others, are people like ourselves-imperfect who will eventually die, disappoint or both.

Dr. Wagner gives an explanation for the Trinity that is psychologically unique. From God, the Father we get our sense of belonging as we submit to the Creator of us all; from Jesus Christ we get our sense of acceptance as we embrace the forgiveness he offers and from the Holy Spirit we receive our sense of competence as he leads, teaches, counsels and redirects.  Belonging, Acceptance and Competence are the building blocks of a healthy self-concept and we get them all in relationship with the triune God who is perfect, permanent and predisposed to carry us through all of life’s stages, disappointments and losses into a forever life of ultimate significance and wonder.

So, how do we absorb the above in a tangible way that makes for the closeness with God that we are longing for?  We (David and me) need help to move from intellectual assent and understanding to a heartfelt sense of what truly validates us and makes us feel known and loved by God. Tim Keller tells us what the problem is and what needs to be believed and understood. The late Dr. Wagner tells us the anatomy of true self-worth and significance as found in the trinity.  But, there is another leg to this three legged stool which still needs to be addressed. Part 4 of “One Journey, Two People” is coming next as David and I need to further digest a book by Dr. Curt Thompson called, Anatomy of the Soul.

One Journey – Two People: Part 2

An eleven-hour car drive from Buffalo to Hampton Roads, Virginia prompted the question I had been meaning to ask my husband. (Read previous post for context.)

“Hey David, here is what I have noticed in the last several years… You were once contentwalking about your life and now, not so much … Am I off or on track and do you care to talk about it?”

“You may be right, up to a point, Dona.  I’m still mostly content and believe I have lived a ‘completed’ life and could go to the Creator without regrets.  But recently some insecurities have surfaced.  In fact, it is part of the reason I have asked you to blog about late middle age baby boomer insecurity. I was hoping that you could do a little research and then enlighten me to what may be going on.”

Therapeutic communication:

Before I did any research I wanted to hear more of what David thought might be going on. So, I continued with a communication phrase that I have instructed many couples to practice.

“Is there more about this that you can tell me about…..” (There is always more that aids in clarification).

“Is there more” and continuing to ask, “Is there more?” until you finally hear,

“No, I think I have said all that I was feeling or thinking about the matter.”

This type of persistence in dialogue is one of the kindest and most courageous self-disciplines you can practice when having meaningful communication with someone. Kindest, because there is always more that someone has to say, and you, the listener, are giving them the time, mental space, and patience  to reflect and be heard.  It aids in the speaker’s own self-clarification and provides insight as room and time is given for them to think out loud and even to rethink and revise what they originally thought in order to get closer to their core belief.

courage
COURAGE

It is also a courageous self-discipline because you are placing yourself in a position of vulnerability – hearing more than your “thin skin-ness” is typically able to handle without getting hurt and making it about you. My experience with this grownup communication tool is that if a person can trust the process without reacting to the content with the typical self-justifying filters and insecurities then something happens that leads to emotional connection and intimacy that would have typically been buried in a sea of defending, accusation and misunderstanding.

Back to David’s narrative:

“Maybe your cancer diagnosis and treatment leaves me feeling my life is not complete because I wouldn’t want to die and leave you in a lurch.  Of course I have no control of that.  That is in God’s hands.  Could be that as I get older I’m just feeling more irrelevant and further away from making things happen in a way that a younger generation can and does?  Maybe it’s more akin to the loss of an “insider status.”

(To be honest this is not exactly how David described his unease on that 11-hour car ride.  When I showed him this post he edited his quote; he rewrote the quote; he left it, came back and revised it again as he struggled to concisely define his feelings.)

More therapeutic stuff:

Putting pen to paper brings the mental clarity that so often alludes us when we just talk.

I have found in my mental health practice that this process of writing down thoughts and feelings is therapeutic. Putting pen to paper brings the mental clarity that so often alludes us when we just talk.  When we write our thoughts down we are placing boundaries built writing hardby our language’s syntax and grammar.  Writing down our thoughts forces our brain to reign in free-floating anxious thoughts. It happened that way with David; giving him more to time to get to the heart of what was bothering him and it gave me the needed content to know what to research.

By this point my digressions have likely made you forget what David wanted me to research (i.e. Baby-boomer insecurity).  As it turned out, my initial research would bring me to articles that were more about our baby boomer power than about the obvious – we are old and we are feeling it in our bones, our gut, and our culture and in our soul, and we are quite self-absorbed about it.  The articles I read leaned to reassurances.  They encouraged us to resist self-doubt and summoned statistics that made us sound pretty darn relevant as consumers, social media connectors, political and health care industry influencers. Oh hum… who cares about all that and apparently not David after further communication.  The John Mayer song, “Get Off this Train,” pointedly gets to the heart of the matter.  We are getting old and no pep talk or consumer statistics are fooling us.  So, where is my navel-gazing husband (his words) to go from here?

Sorry, dear readers, as it turns out I have more to say in this blog before I fulfill my original “One Journey-Two People” series.  My next post “One Journey – Two People: Part III” I’ll try to get to the heart of the matter that was teased out of David’s angst.

One Journey, Two lives: part 1

No regrets 

“At this point in my life the thought of dying does not bother me that much.  I feel that I have lived a fairly faithful life (to Christ), a full life; accomplished a few meaningful things that have made a difference and been blessed beyond anything I deserved or earned.  I don’t want to die, but I think I would depart without regrets.”

This sentiment was not expressed by me, the recent cancer survivor, but by my husband about 4 years ago.  But recently some of his reflections seem to modify that original statement.

The lyrics of a song in one of David’s iTunes playlists by John Mayer, “Stop This Train,” has made me wonder whether he has had a change of heart.

Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can’t take the speed it’s moving in
I know I can’t but honestly won’t someone stop this train

So scared of getting older
I’m only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find a way to say that life has just begun
Had a talk with my old man
Said help me understand
He said turn 68, you’ll renegotiate
Don’t stop this train
Don’t for a minute change the place you’re in
Don’t think I couldn’t ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we’ll never stop this train

Long journeys

Today, an eleven hour car drive from Buffalo to Hampton Roads, Virginia prompted the question I had been meaning to ask.

“Hey David, here is what I have noticed in the last several years… You were once content and now, not so much … Am I off or on track and do you care to talk about it?”

Long car rides or walks are the business for relationship talks and/or philosophical musings. They are better in some ways than the prescribed, “sit across the table from one walkinganother and talk.” There is something about movement of two bodies in close proximity to each other that feels safe, purposeful and engaging. Looking ahead together as opposed to looking at each other allows spoken thoughts to be free of the distraction of disconcerting facial expressions.

”Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know but your eyes did a weird thing when I said…”

Expectations are high when sitting across the table (excluding sit down meal times) to have ‘the talk.’  A contrived setting has been established for a limited time to reach a resolution, solve a problem, or discuss a serious topic.  The pressure is on and so is the stress that there could be a misstep. Long distance journeys are not limited on time and have just the right amount of boredom, leaving room for the spontaneous and reflective.

We can all probably think of some piece of literature or a movie where people on a journey together make observations of life, people, and relationships. The topics range from the sublime to the ridiculous to the evil.  A pastor once quoted someone as saying, “all good stories begin and end with a journey.”  I would add that if that journey is accompanied with other individuals the possibilities of new insights and revelations are heightened, deepened and possibly breathing lessonshealing. Many books (here are a few from my recent reading list) verify such insight:  “Peace Like a River” by Leif Enger (a family’s journey of discovery) and Pulitzer prize winning, “Breathing Lessons” by Anne Tyler (a married couple’s long car journey revealing the meaning of a long marriage with its ups and downs).  But lest I sound naïve, people on journeys together can also prompt the ridiculous, mischief and evil, i.e.…  “Dumb and Dumber”, “Thelma and Louise”, “Bonnie and Clyde” and “Natural Born Killers” to name a few.

Easter-Road-To-Emmaus1Jesus on the road to Emmaus appearing to two disciples (Luke 24:13-35) is an example of the sublime. The gospel reports that on that journey the post resurrected-Christ walked and talked incognito to the two unnamed disciples, giving time to answering questions and explaining deep scriptural truths that revealed His true nature and life’s purpose.  “Didn’t our hearts burn within us as He talked,” exclaimed the two after Christ disappeared from their midst.  That journey changed them forever.

Back to David and Dona’s 11-hour care drive journey:

“You are insightful, Dona, up to a point.  It is not about fear of dying but contentment.  I have more discontent than 4 years ago.  Not a big deal but something is going on.  In fact, it is part of the reason I have asked you to blog about late middle age baby boomer insecurity. I was hoping that you could do a little research and then enlighten me to what may be going on.”

So, I am taking his challenge and will do the research for next week’s blog.  For now, I will stop writing and make sure I am not wasting a journey’s relationship discovery possibilities.

read this-its inspiring

In my last post I promised an article by Todd Billings which inspired the telling of my mild story in comparison.  The following is the article with the link.

Inhttp://www.christianitytoday.com/behemoth/2014/issue-10/deadly-healing-medicine.html?utm_source=gallireport&utm_medium=Newsletter&utm_term=13341127&utm_content=319474811&utm_campaign=2013

Incurable cancer.

I could hardly believe it when I heard the diagnosis. My wife and I had just celebrated our tenth anniversary, and our lives were spinning in joyful commotion with one- and three- year-olds at home. Initial testing brought back some worrying results. I had researched the possibilities, and I didn’t sound like a likely prospect for this cancer. The average diagnosis age is about 70; I had just turned 39. But here it was: an active cancer that had already been eroding the bones in my skull, arm, and hip.

With the Psalmist I cried out, “Heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? Turn, Lord, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love” (Ps. 6:2b–4).

What was this “healing” for my bones and soul? The cancer has no cure, but it can be fought with special treatment. This treatment to extend my lifespan was not going to come through a gentle pill. Ready or not, I was in the midst of a battle. I needed strong medicine for healing to come. Within a week I was on a chemotherapy and steroid treatment as part of a five-month preparation for this strong medicine: a stem cell transplant.

I soon discovered this was not a regular transplant—replacing a sick organ with a healthy organ, or infusing health-filled medicines into my body. Quite the opposite. Receiving this “medicine” involved taking a lethal poison. First I had stem cells gathered from my blood. Next I received an intense form of chemotherapy derived from mustard gas, a World War I chemical weapon. These toxins attacked both healthy and cancerous cells in my bone marrow; they would definitely have killed me if there were not a way to revive me. My white blood count dropped close to zero, leaving me with virtually no resistance to infection. You can’t live like that. And yet, the only way to heal was to infuse this poison into my blood.

In the third step, the healthy stem cells taken earlier were infused back into my body. At first, they just float around, but the doctors hope that after a number of days, “engrafting” will take place: the healthy stem cells start helping the body produce an immune system again. Because this procedure so compromises the immune system, I would remain hospitalized for a month at a cancer lodge designed for avoiding infection, followed by several more months of quarantine.

The doctors referred to the final bottoming out of white cells as “the valley.”

During my transplant process, I was kept under close watch by doctors and nurses as my white blood cell count plummeted. The heavy toxins were infused into my body from dark bags labeled “hazardous drug” and “high risk med.” As my white counts fell, I experienced bouts of sharp pain, nausea, heavy fatigue, and discouragement. The doctors referred to the final bottoming out of white cells as “the valley.” During this time, I was walking through “the valley of the shadow of death” (Ps. 23:4, ESV). The doctors brought me down the path of death, for the path of death was the only way to healing.

Thankfully, engraftment eventually started to occur; slowly the healthy blood cells joined my body in recreating my immune system.

No Engraftment = No Life

Engraftment is a horticultural practice: uniting a branch to a plant in such a way that the branch is incorporated into the plant, becoming a part of the plant itself. In my case, before the stem cell transplant, I had to sign a consent form indicating my understanding that if engraftment did not occur, I could die. Because of the death-dealing powers of the chemo, the consent form probably could have used a simpler formula: no engraftment means no life.

Engraftment evokes biblical imagery, of course. In Romans 11:13–24, Paul uses rich horticultural imagery from the Old Testament to speak about how Gentile believers have been graciously grafted into the people of God. In the Gospel of John, Christ himself speaks about how he is the vine and his disciples are the branches, who can bear fruit only by abiding in him (15:1–8). For “apart from me you can do nothing” (15:5, ESV). No engraftment means no life.

As I lived through my ordeal, my eyes were opened anew to what it means for sinners like us to receive deep healing from God. We don’t just need a vitamin; we don’t just need a bandage to cover a flesh wound. We need strong medicine—we need death and new life united to Christ in order to be healed. Far too often, I have acted as if the gospel were a self-improvement plan to strengthen a muscle, to heal a small wound, to enhance my success. But the gospel is about losing our lives for the sake of Jesus Christ, tasting death to the old self in order to experience true life and healing. “Count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 6:11). Our hope is not in ourselves, but in our engraftment—our union with Christ. “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Rom. 6:4).

There is no way to healing apart from death. This is a reality for all of us. God’s gospel medicine is not a light massage or an energizing pill. We cannot have only resurrection, skipping over our union with Christ in his death, our death to the old self. We desperately need healing. And the Great Physician provides this in mysterious ways.

As Martin Luther notes, even our “spiritual trials, sorrow, grief, and anguish of heart” are “the medicines with which God purges away sin.” This purging actually restores true human health. This medicine may feel like poison, and it does involve a kind of death, but it is actually coming to life in Christ. For when we cry out for “healing” we are crying out to a crucified and risen Lord who brings us life by uniting us to both his death and his life. That is strong medicine, indeed.

J. Todd Billings is Gordon H. Girod Research Professor of Reformed Theology at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan. This article has been adapted from his forthcoming book, Rejoicing in Lament (Brazos Press, February 2015), with permission.

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Also in this Issue

Images and Infusions pointing to spiritual truths

An Image of hope in crisis:

My story:  Half way through chemotherapy I found myself in an acute medical state that would require a rapid response team in the hospital to revive me and three days in the hospital to stabilize me.  Monitoring and intravenous products were needed: antibiotics, hydrating fluids and 3 units of whole blood.

My husband’s story:  “When I brought you into the hospital because of a shocking 104 degree temperature, you were conscious, lucid and chatty.  But while the intake nurse took your vitals you suddenly became unresponsive.  The rapid response team was paged over the hospital PA and within a minute a seeming chaos of a dozen or more people gathered around you.  It was like one of those ER movie scenes where the door closes in the face of the panicked family member who is left in the lobby alone and fearing the worst.  Within those lonely powerless moments, I had a God given image: Christ was in the corner of the room with His arm stretched out over you and all those attending to you.  It was reassuring.”

“Lo, I am always with you even to the ends of the age.”  Matthew 28:20b

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  Hebrews 13:5b

“Even if it were possible a mother could forget her nursing child, I will never forget you.”    Isaiah 49:15b

An image of restoration:

Back to my story:  Later in the hospital room as I looked up at the IV pole with a unit bag of blood hooked in its place I thought of all the people who gave their blood for future needy unknown recipients. I was grateful.  Much later, I realized that the blessing of my medical emergency was those 3 units of whole blood.  I had not realized how bad I felt during the past two months of chemo.  That whole blood was a ‘miracle’ of rejuvenation.  I could now face the remaining two months of infusions.  And predictable to someone who thinks “Christian-ly”, my thoughts went to the One who gave His blood that we might have life. The New Testament makes it clear that like a blood donor, Christ’s blood was willingly given for life. In some transcendent and mysterious way that death and giving of blood was meant to secure forgiveness, life and hope.   Christ’s ‘blood shed for me’ was always a reality but it was not quite the obscure reality it once was for the ‘new fortified’ (3 units worth) Dona.

David needed an image for comfort in crisis; I got an image for restoration.  They both were God-given, but our knowledge of the promises of God in scripture provided the brush strokes for these pictures.

It’s not always a crisis that proves the reality of God’s love and presence.  But often an intense emotional experience can give us biblical insight into a reality that is bigger than ourselves.  Cosmic truths reach deep into our personal stories and transform them.

What about you?   Could you go back and revisit a crisis or ‘intense period’ in your life?  What biblical metaphor, image or teaching does the crisis highlight that makes the God of the universe relevant to your finite human dilemma?  And, if appropriate, could you share it in the comment section of this post?

Next week’s post will be someone else’s article, an excerpt from J.Todd Billings’ forthcoming book, Rejoicing in Lament (Brazos Press, copied with permission).  His cancer story will challenge us with the truth of God’s “engrafting.”  It is a seriously moving and insightful story.

 

Humor Makes the Serious more Serious

A pastor once told David that humor within a sermon makes the serious more serious. In other words it creates the emotional highs and lows that helps us remember the point of the sermon as well as create receptiveness that inspires change or endurance in doing well.

I have wondered as others have  whether Jesus had a sense of humor and said funny things. (Googling ‘Did Jesus have a sense of humor?’ yielded 10.6 million hits.)  As it turns out, many scholars think so.  Jesus’ use of hyperbole to make a point, the colorful descriptions in his parables, and the fact that he liked hanging out with “sketchy” people at dinner parties probably spoke to a winsome and intelligent humor as well as an appreciation for the delightful in some folks, especially the little ones.  And, we all know that Jesus would have laughed at the crazy viral YouTube, titled, “Charlie bit me.”  YouTube link here if you are one of the only three English speaking people in the world who have not seen this.  (Dave’s note:  Actually there is an Indian and Arabic remix.)

As an aside, my time over the last decade with Palestinian Bible Society staff in the West Bank and Gaza has taught me to expect a lot of laughing, hilarity, antics and teasing (without the booze) when they get together socially; in spite of being a group that has endured much hardship and tragedy.

My personal favorite “funny” from Jesus

log-in-eyeAbout two thirds through Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount he uses a ridiculous image to drive home his point about hyper criticalness.  David was reading Matthew 5-7 out loud to me the other day.  I laughed out-loud when David read Jesus’ famous ” get the log out of your own eye before trying to get the speck out of your brother’s eye” within the Sermon  (Matthew 7:1-5).  Scholars of Biblical studies and culture think I responded like Jesus’ Galilean listeners and it would have been by design.  Think about it for a minute. Jesus just told people to stop hating, lusting, divorcing, swearing and revenging. He tells his audience that they not only have to love their neighbor but also their enemy and do it with their actions. And He tells them that they should give to the needy but not  let anyone know about it, quit acting so religious, quit storing up wealth on earth, quit worrying and replace worrying with trust – all things we need to hear but when you pile them up all together they can seem a little overwhelming. Just when people were probably finding themselves emotionally and mentally flooded (a psych term) Jesus injected humor.  I like to think that Jesus thought something to the effect of, “hmm, let me break this up with a witty image that will last centuries and prepare these folks to hear even more challenges before I finish off ‘The Sermon’ that will inaugurate a new understanding of God’s ethical standard of living within the Kingdom of God. I know they will laugh but it will  only enhance the point that I have little patience with hypocritical judgmental-ism..

Jesus was no stand-up comic  but he used humor to drive home some tough sobering points that had barbs.

Some interesting facts about laughing from the Mayo Clinic.

In the short term:

Laughter doesn’t just lighten your load mentally, it actually induces physical changes in your body:

  • Stimulates many organs.Laughter enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain.
  • Activates and relieves your stress response.A rollicking laugh fires up and then cools down your stress response and increases your heart rate and blood pressure. The result? A good, relaxed feeling.
  • Soothes tension.Laughter can also stimulate circulation and aid muscle relaxation, both of which help reduce some of the physical symptoms of stress.

In the long term
Laughter isn’t just a quick pick-me-up, though. It’s also good for you over the long haul. Laughter may:

  • Improve your immune system.Negative thoughts manifest into chemical reactions that can affect your body by bringing more stress into your system and decreasing your immunity. In contrast, positive thoughts actually release neuropeptides that help fight stress and potentially more-serious illnesses.
  • Relieve pain.Laughter may ease pain by causing the body to produce its own natural painkillers. Laughter may also break the pain-spasm cycle common to some muscle disorders.
  • Increase personal satisfaction.Laughter can also make it easier to cope with difficult situations. It also helps you connect with other people.
  • Improve your mood.Many people experience depression, sometimes due to chronic illnesses. Laughter can help lessen your depression and anxiety and make you feel happier.

Spiritual application:

Laugh a lot.  Look for things to laugh about.  Be appropriate and sweet about it so watch out for superior sarcasm and passive aggressive teasing. Laughing with others increases our affection and emotional connection with them.  Above all, take yourself less seriously while taking God, very seriously – then you will be emotionally and spiritually ready to read the Sermon on the Mount. It’s no light read but then again we can handle it if we” first get the log out of our own eye.”

 

Radical touching

So it turns out according to a colossal amount of research that touching someone is good for health and mood; not just for the “touch-ee” but also for the “touch-er”.  Now, that is hardly earth shattering news. Being touched (APPROPRIATELY) whether in the form of a hug, gentle pat on the arm, holding a hand, back rub is shown to release neurotransmitters that positively affect the immune system, mood, self-esteem, blood pressure, and stress level.  It seems that there is nothing that even the slightest touch on the arm can’t bring about that is not positive.  Of course, there are caveats.  “Know your audience.”  Not all cultures will respond positively to an uninvited touch on the arm.  Nor, do all women necessarily want random men touching them on the arm or anywhere else. But the research is in:  touch activates skin receptors that send signals to the brain to release “feel-good” neurotransmitters and hormones that aid in boosting immune systems.  And, it does not take a scientist to know that touch, given in the right spirit and received in that same spirit, builds a healthy, uplifting psychological connection.

However, there is a “touching” that stuns with its radical compassion and fierceness.  And if we are honest we don’t quite know what to do with it.

The story

In early November of 2013, Vinicio Riva and others traveled by bus to Vatican City, where they attended a morning public audience held by Pope Francis. Vinicio Riva who was in a wheel chair pushed by his aunt was just hoping to see the Pope. Vinicia suffers from a rare skin disorder that has left him severely disfigured with tumors all over his face and body. Neurofibromatosis is not contagious.

The following was reported By CNN World.

“I didn’t think we would be so close to the Pope, but the Swiss Guard kept ushering us forward until we were in a corner in the front row,” recalled his aunt.  “When he came close to us, I thought he would give me his hand. Instead he went straight to Vinicio and embraced him tightly. I thought he wouldn’t give him back to me he held him so tightly.”

(There are pictures of this encounter at the end of this post.)

Vinicio, accustomed to stares of shock and fear, was initially confused by the pontiff’s lack of hesitation. “He didn’t have any fear of my illness,” he said. “He embraced me without speaking … I quivered. I felt a great warmth.”

The entire encounter lasted little over a minute, and soon Vinicio and his aunt were back on the bus; Vinicio in a state of combined shock and joy.

“He was almost not himself,” Lotto said. “He was shaking.’’

“I felt I was returning home ten years younger, as if a load had been lifted,” Vinicio said.

The Huffington Post reported Vinicio as saying, “I’m not contagious, but he [the Pope] didn’t know that.  But he did it, period.  He caressed my whole face and while he was doing it, I felt only love.”

No words were exchanged, just the healing comfort of touch. “I tried to speak to say something but I was unable to,” said Riva in a translation provided by Time. “The emotion was too strong. It lasted a little longer than a minute but it felt as if it were eternity.”

Gospel story

Pope Francis no doubt gets his cue from the gospels.  Another story reported in Matthew, Mark and Luke tells the story of Jesus healing a man “filled with leprosy.”  Jesus broke with centuries-old cleanliness laws by touching, no, “grabbing” a man who fell on his knees before Jesus saying, “If you are willing you can make me clean.”  Jesus, filled with compassion, grabs the man and says, “I am willing”.  The desperate man is cured from one of society’s most dreaded diseases – a disease leading to disfigurement and death but only after a life of misery, pain, isolation, shame and loneliness.

Many through the centuries have also taken their cue from Jesus to radically touch and bless the severely disfigured from dreaded skin diseases and disorders.  St. Francis Assisi, Dr. Paul and Mary Brandt, Mother Theresa and so many others that will never make the radical touch-ers hall of fame on this side of heaven.

I was curious what leprosy might have looked like in first century Palestine.  Surprisingly, Google images revealed something that did not look so different from Riva’s disorder.  Now, here is where it gets a little odd.  When I viewed several images of religious paintings of the encounter of Jesus with the leper they showed something quite different from what would have been the reality.  Jesus is portrayed as “ other worldly” taking his finger and pointing it towards the man as if he was dispelling fairy dust and the man with leprosy looks a little ashen or at most smudgy, something that hot soapy water could fix.  Why was the disease’s disfigurement played down and why is Jesus portrayed as someone who is beyond getting down and dirty with the lowly?  I don’t know but here are two theories.  One, the artist does not want us distracted by the terribleness of the diseased man so that we can keep our gaze on the beautiful ephemeral Jesus, or, two, a painting to be displayed in a church or in the palace of a wealthy benefactor needed to be lovely and stunning to look at showing the magnificence of Christ .  While I understand the reasons it is a disservice to the heart of Christ and to those suffering.

about me

So, would I do what Pope Francis did?  I need to honestly confront my limits and fears and ask sincerely what it means when Christ says, “When you do it to the least of these you are doing it to me.”  Wait a minute, I know what it means.  Compassion has no limits. It comes at a cost.  It certainly did for Christ, our Savior and Healer. I like to think of myself as a touch-er, hugg-er and kisser type of person.  I also like to think of myself as a follower of Christ, too. But, the call to be a radical touch-er?   Me? God help me. I mean it, Holy Spirit help me!

POPE FRANCIS' GENERAL AUDIENCEPOPE FRANCIS' GENERAL AUDIENCE

 

 

The scales were tipped and I was feeling guilty

Party

I just got home from a party given by friends, Kyeonghi and Bernard, of the Buffalo church we attend.

Thirty-five people showed up, many wearing hilarious wigs in honor of my (still) hairless days. It was a blast. Most are young and full of “we are hard-wired for fun!”

Later

I sat in the dark of my apartment explaining to David that I was having some internal dissonance.  (Poor guy – he has to endure therapist phrases and he probably just wants to say, “Can we simply call it confused feelings?”)

“Maybe it wasn’t all so bad after all (my cancer treatment).  I’m kind of feeling that I may have made a big deal about nothing so terrible.”

David’s response was straightforward, “Yes, it was a big deal; trust me.”

Maybe I am going through something like the aftermath of child bearing. The relief of new life causes a kind of amnesia of the pain you thought you would never get over.

But then again, I wasn’t satisfied with that analogy. Something else was going on. I stared at the basket of cards from friends from Juneau and other places.  I looked at the books and gifts sent and reminded myself of the countless phone calls from family and friends and the many emails even from David’s clients and colleagues who had never met me but wanted to encourage me.  People read my blog and were unbelievably kind in their responses. Friends traveled to visit me or house me.

The kindnesses that I received from my health providers and just random folks I would meet in the hospital – all of these memories were flooding me with that “internal dissonance” thing. The level of kindness far exceeded the level of suffering.

Because I was feeling unworthy of this amount of kindness crazy thoughts were entering my head in an effort to make sense of it. “I must have communicated to everyone that it was worse than it was. Did I tell them I was dying?  Did I let on like I was bedridden and hospitalized most of the time?  Did I say that my head was in a bucket 24-7 during chemo?  Did I intimate that surgery had complications or that radiation could only be endured with drugs, prescription and recreational?  In short, did I exaggerate this whole thing in spite of the fact that my doctors were telling me I had a high risk disease and treatment would be intense?”

I thought of the support of my sweet daughters, their husbands and my grand boys and my courageous 88-year old mother who looks after my 91-year old father.  It was beginning to feel like too much.

Too much support.

Too much love.

Too much guilt from all that love and support.

Too much God – is that even possible?

The scale was tipped in favor of love – far outweighing the trials of cancer treatment.  I was overwhelmed with undeserved love.

Of course it was undeserved.  Christianity 101 tells me that.  None of us get what we deserve.  God help us if we do. It just can’t be about deserving. I don’t even want it to be.  It gets back to that fair thing I talked about in my last post.  After all, do I deserve all this support and some other person in a hostile dangerous place who is being horribly persecuted for their religious belief or ethnic heritage deserves being alone, feeling forgotten and wondering why God is silent.  Does she or he deserve that treatment while I am showered with love and support from friends and family?  Of course, not.

What to do with all this

There is something else going on.  What are we ultimately meant to be thankful for? Please don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for the support of friends, family, and health care providers who, in part, sustained me through this ordeal. But I know that right now at this moment countless people of Christian faith and other minorities in faraway places and prisons are suffering, even dying, alone and unnoticed.  What sustains them?  It can’t be, “God loves me this I know for I have so many friends and family telling me so!” Equating God’s grace and blessings to family and friends and medical support just do not cut it for the multitudes deprived of basic human rights.  I once read John Stott, the late theologian and vicar of All Soul’s Church in London, say something to the effect that he could not worship a God who had not suffered pain, abandonment humiliation and forsakenness. Thank God we have that God in Jesus Christ. His suffering appropriated something profound, cosmic and eternal for which anyone of us can be blessed, whomever and wherever we are. Now, I am venturing into territory that I cannot speak authoritatively.  But someone can and has.  His name is Ziya Merkal.  I read an article of his in Christianity Today back in 2008.  I printed off a copy, put in a manila folder and over the years have reread it many times.  Here are the links to two articles by Ziya Merkal , “Bearing the Silence of God” ( the one I carry around) and “Standing with the Desolate” (recently read this on line). Please read them.

After listening to my angst in the darkness of our apartment after the lovely party thrown in honor of my end-of-treatment.  My husband said, “Dona, just be thankful.”  Good words spoken by the champion of support, love and perspective during one of the toughest 9 months of my life.  But David was quick to point out that the apostle Paul said it better in I Thessalonians 5:18,

“For this is the will of God, that you be thankful.”

“Darling, it’s better to look good than to feel good”

Sitting in the radiation therapy waiting room, a woman waiting for treatment complained about things people have said to her since her diagnosis. “You don’t look like you are in cancer treatment, you look so good.”  She went on to explain that she did not feel like she was doing well.  She was filled with  anxiety because of a return of breast cancer and two tumors recently found on her lung.  She went on to say, “I have always tried to look my best…..but that certainly doesn’t change what is going on inside of me.”  My heart went out to her.

In an old Saturday night live skit Billy Crystal made the following comment famous, “Darling, it is always better to look good than to feel good.”  So silly and shallow, but funny.  Yet, since 1989 the American Cancer Society has sponsored a free program called, Look Good, Feel Better.  Any cancer patient can sign up for a consult with a cosmetician and receive a free bag of cosmetics suited to skin type.

I am struggling a bit here. Read my post called “The New 60?” to understand why. But actually, I appreciate what the American Cancer Society is doing with this kind of program.  You only need to read a couple of testimonies from women who participated in Look Good, Feel Better to get teary-eyed and grateful for such a thoughtful program. As one woman explained, “I was pale, hairless with dark patches on my face and feeing terribly self-conscious. During the beauty consultation I felt uplifted and normal and more confident to meet the public.”  I found the program a boost to my self-esteem as well.  And I could do it without feeling so vain. After all, I am being treated for cancer. I get a free pass for a lot of things.

If this was my last word on the topic I would have given a nice advert and thumbs up to a good program and left it at that.  But I did a little research on the scientific studies associated with looking good and feeling good and found a study that left me disturbed and prompted theological reflection.  If you are curious about that study read the article, “Are You Too Good Looking to Get Sick?” at:  http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2675563/high-blood-pressure-asthma-research-says-looks-affect-risk-illness.html

If you are curious about my theological reflections read next weeks post.

 

Roswell Park Cancer Institute: Playground for grandchild and me

Happy-volunteer-fist-pump-kid1Today like every day except weekends I had radiation treatment at Buffalo’s Roswell Park Cancer Institute (RPCI). Desmond, our 15-month old grandson, came along for the ride. David watched him in the lobby of this huge sensory-filled place while I got my 20 minute treatment from my new best friends, my radiation therapists. After the 20-minute treatment David, Desi and I just hung out for an hour. I know it sounds weird to be hanging out in a cancer hospital with a child. What is wrong with a playground? But this bright expansive atrium with its Dunkin Donuts café, live music, gift shop, therapy dogs (one says hello in Spanish) and most importantly, a squadron of volunteers made Desi’s time special. Special for him and special for me since the end of February when I was diagnosed. I have yet to come back home immediately after a radiation treatment. I like visiting, snacking and socializing at RPIC. Those of you who know me are going to chalk this up to my sociability. Fair enough, I am social with or without steroids but that is not the whole story. There is an upbeat spirit about this place that goes way beyond my personality. And it is not just me who feels this way. Just ask anyone who has ever received treatment here. The army of volunteers and caring staff make the difference.

Those that can do, doI have been conducting my own informal poll; asking volunteers how long they have been volunteers, what they get out of it, and what motivates them to volunteer. As you might expect many are cancer survivors that have received treatment at Roswell and found the experience tolerable because of the way they were lovingly treated. Some have been caretakers of loved ones who received good care and warm receptions. And amazingly some are still currently in treatment for cancer. Their motivation is not too surprising, “I simply want to give back in some tangible way.” Other responses include enjoying the volunteers (lots of laughing among these folks) and the caring professional staff that appreciate them. Ryan, a paragon of upbeat-ness and coordinator of volunteers, describes going to a conference about volunteerism in the Western New York health care system. He learned that the average retention period for volunteers at health care institutions was less than a year; for RPCI it was 4.8 years. Hands down they outscored the others.

Shirley, a volunteer of 8 years coming from Canada, (no small sacrifice…Canada is just across the river but still a ½ hour to one hour border crossing each way) told a story of being part of a team that gave tours to CEOs from cancer hospitals all over the world. At the end of the Roswell tour, the CEO’s agreed, according to Shirley, that to two things that distinguished RPCI from other top cancer hospitals was the art work displayed and the Roswell volunteers.

But why is that? I am sure other hospitals have volunteers that are wanting to give back for the care they received. So, I went to another source to discover what the reason might be for the warm aura in this place and the long retention of its volunteers – over 500 strong, age range 14 to 98. Again, it feels a little weird to be talking about a cancer hospital like it is some kind of spa. But then again maybe it’s the element of unlikely expectations that provokes such appreciation. If I went to a spa I would expect to be pampered and warmly received. I don’t think I would ever have expected that going to a cancer institute would be anything but tedious and terrifying.

rockwellI asked the director of volunteer services, “Why do you think this place attracts happy volunteers?” I explained that I was a patient and was numbered with many who felt cared for. I told her my story. “I could not face leaving the hospital after hearing the news of the pathology report after my surgery. I had to stay, sit, pray and walk around as I soaked in the ambiance – a nurturing kind of ambiance that I had no words for but knew I needed for a while before I was ready to leave and face life “on the outside”.

But my story doesn’t even come close to the heart rendering story I heard from the director’s assistant. A 20-year old boy was diagnosed with cancer and in 6 weeks he died. The family of the young man was so grateful for the care and attention that everyone showed (staff and volunteers) that over a hundred flower bouquets were bought and hand delivered to each person who interacted with their son and family in that short period of time. Their son liked flowers and the family could think of no better way to show their appreciation. There were other touching stories but the director also wanted to sing the praises of the administration who was consistently supportive of volunteers, making them feel needed and welcomed. “I feel a need to thank them (admin) almost every day.”

So here is what I have learned about volunteer competency, happiness and retention through personal experience and internet research. And by the way I have seen this happen at the Palestinian Bible Society with their volunteers and with Love INC – a charitable service for people in need in Juneau, Alaska.

  • Volunteers have a need to feel like they are part of a mission bigger than themselves.
  • Volunteers have a need to feel like they are giving back blessings because they know they have been recipients of blessing.
  • Volunteers need to get along with each other and enjoy each other.
  • Volunteers need to feel appreciated and needed by those in authority.
  • Volunteers need to be part of a well-organized system that knows what to do with them.

But there is something else going on amongst these volunteers that is special but intangible. It cannot be reduced to bullet points. Throughout this “Dona study” of RPCI staff and volunteers, I have repeatedly sounded like a three year old who wants to understand something that is eludes my ability. “But why do you think this is so,” has been a common refrain as my therapist-mind wants to reduce ‘whys’ to their most indivisible core. I have concluded that I am not going to get my ultimate answer. Once again I must go to my default since this entire cancer treatment journey began: what is clear in the mind of God is a mystery to me. And not having my answer will not stop me from enjoying His benefits.