Today was easy to name--it was Cardinal Sunday! As we were driving by the three fountains near our house to go to church, Jonathan spied a pair of cardinals in the bouganvillae bush!
I didn't know cardinals existed in Arizona!
They exist in the northeastern states, but Arizona? In bouganvilla bushes??
Earlier this morning, Jonathan and I took our usual morning walk that the clinic encourages. Yesterday I wasn't able to do the walk because of just having port surgery, but today, sore or not, I went anyway. It's easy to feel how walking gets one's lymph system draining and jiggling, when one's freshly installed port is bumping on your chest at every step!
This morning we chose to drive a mile down Avenue of the Fountains and just walk up and down that lovely avenue.
When Jonathan was taking a picture of just me at this fountain, a young lady walking her dog suddenly stopped and offered to take a picture of both of us!
She was such a sweet young lady, and after she asked where we were from, I explained that we were from South Dakota, down here for cancer treatment at a local clinic.
"Keep going!" she encouraged. "You'll get through it!"
She said she herself works with cancer patients all the time; she is part of some kind of medical service.
But to me, the thoughtful young lady walking her dog was a sort of angel--just one more person telling me that I would get through this, that I was going to make it.
Speaking of angels, I wanted to share about a sweet time we patients with our caregivers had this last week with the counselor. It was a combined session called "Building a Community of Support."
But what happened was different than I expected. The counselor handed out papers and colored pencils and crayons, asking each person to draw a chasm of sorts. Then on one side we were to draw a picture of where we see ourselves now, and on the other side of the chasm we were to draw where we would like to be physically, spiritually, emotionally or whatever, and then draw how we are going to get there.
Well, I am not a very good artist, but I did draw a rocky-sided chasm and a stick figure of me, and then I wondered how I was going to get from one side to the other.
True to form, I couldn't make up my mind, so I drew two ways to go.
I drew an airplane (such as it was) to show how I really wanted to go! I wanted to be done with treatment in 2 to 4 weeks and go home and be healed!
But then I drew a more realistic picture-a stick figure lady starting to go down the near side of the chasm, and climb back up the other side.
As each of us took a turn explaining our picture, and just sharing what we wanted to share, I explained how I'd written all sorts of words to explain my feelings on this side of where I am right now.
Along with the words I drew tears, and the word No. Because all the way down the chasm, I was like, "No! I don't want to go down there! No, I don't want to do this! No, I don't want port surgery! No, I don't want chemo, not even the low dose kind. No, I don't like what is happening to me! No, why didn't natural things work like worked for my dad and my friend?"
But I read my words quickly,
"To clinic.
IVs
Dentist
Treatments
Movement
Counseling
(Tears)
Diet
Yucky water, fatty food
Lymph
Meditation
Anger, Disappointment, Helpless
Forgiveness, Letting Go, Accepting (Tears)"
Down at the bottom, where the river was, I wrote the things I had been most afraid of.
"Out of control (tear)
Port surgery (tears)
IPT (tear)
Herceptin (tear)
Pain
Hardware in my body
Drugs, Side effects."
By the time I finished this list, I was in tears, and across from me, the newest lady in the clinic and her daughter were in tears, too. What I had just written resonated with them.
"I didn't know you could use words," the lady said, "I wanted to, but I thought we were only supposed to draw!"
"I didn't know you could use words," the lady said, "I wanted to, but I thought we were only supposed to draw!"
I explained that the counselor had said we could do whatever we wanted with the picture, and so, with me being a word lady, that is what I did.
Then back up the other side, I had written, "Healing in increments,
Acceptance,
Hikes
Patience
Climbing
Treatments
Hard work
Joy."
and up at the top I drew a flower, "Where I want to be, Back Home, Healed from cancer."
And then, as my voice shook, I explained that all along the way I'd drawn hearts, because all along the way, there are people to love, and all along the way, I want to keep loving God, even though He has allowed this in my life.
The counselor had some affirming words to say, as she did with everyone, and then it was Jonathan's turn.
And I don't know how to adequately describe it, but I will at least try.
First of all, Jonathan was embarrassed about what he thought were poor drawing skills. Personally I think his chasm and stick figures and clouds and rapids at the bottom were amazing, but he was feeling really "less than."
Nevertheless, he bravely shared how this blue stick figure on this side is him where he is now. And over there is where he wants to be.
"And I can't draw," he said (even though he can draw plans for whole houses), "so I can't draw angels.
But I drew this yellow halo," he said, as his voice began to shake, "to represent angels that are carrying us to where we want to be."
And that just did it.
There was this sudden, melting silence, with a lump in the throat of nearly everyone present.
Including the throat of the little lady at his side, who hadn't even dreamed of angels carrying her and her husband across to the other side,
to where we want to be.
Who would have thought of angels in the desert, carrying you across the chasm of cancer treatment?
Leave it to Jonathan.
The counselor, who had affirming and acknowledging words for everyone else, managed to fairly whisper a few words of affirmation and then was just speechless.
Like the angel who told Philip to go down to the desert where he would meet the Ethiopian eunuch and share Christ.
Like the doctor who told us we needed to waste no time getting down here to Arizona.
Like the doctors and nurses and staff at Oasis of Healing.
Like the Christian couple who met us on our first day there and have walked beside us these two weeks.
Like the folk at Hope Family Chapel who gave me a lovely fuzzy blanket for when I'm cold at the clinic.
Like Pastor Ambrose at Lakota Chapel who asked if I'd like to be anointed the Sunday before we left South Dakota, and who had then just prayed a simple prayer, "Heal what has been damaged, and make her whole."
Like our daughter Crystal who has been staying with Danny and Hannah in SD, and who went to Pierre and had our cracked van windshield replaced.
Like Danny who has worked so hard on our house and landscaping while we've been gone.
Like the pastor's wife at Paradise Valley Bible Holiness Church here near Pheonix who reached out immediately to me and made friends.
Like other church people who are taking us total strangers on their heart to pray for us.
Like President Lavery from SIM who is flying down Wednesday to just walk with us for a day or so here, bringing our Danny and Hannah for a brief visit.
Like Rose, who is flying down Thursday to take a turn staying with me so Jonathan can drive back up to South Dakota to take care of some things in South Dakota.
Like the young lady who met us this morning by the fountain.
The young lady with her dog who just said, "Keep going! You're going to make it!"
It's Cardinal Sunday in Arizona, and there are angels in this desert.
Just so you know that your words are reaching hearts, thank you from the depths of mine for your lovely words. Life is hard; I'm told it is supposed to be because it is a test of our faithfulness. I'm so thankful for angels who bring light and healing into mine. You are among them. One of our precious sons took his life in April and we are slowly climbing out of the chasm. Your sweet words of faith are a balm of healing to my shattered heart. Please know that you are in my prayers daily.
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