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This peace became evident to me several times. One special experience­­ was when I was blessed to accompany Mom and her friend Sue to a women’s retreat in northern Indiana. After we shared a weekend of “sweet” fellowship, teaching and encouragement, we went shopping for a bit, and Mom and I found a couple of winter-appropriate, sharp hats. They would be ready to keep Mom’s head warm as chemotherapy enthusiastically attacked her hair follicles (and I prayed this was indicative of the job it was doing on the tumor).

Another special time came in October, while Dad took part in a medical mission trip to Brazil, and Mom was dealing with a post-chemo week. These were weeks when she felt totally wiped out and didn’t really desire others’ company, so she had shared her desire to not have others come and spend time with her. When I assumed I was included here, my wise husband offered to let me spend the weekend away from our home, and he suggested that I offer this plan to Mom. He was right: knowing that I wouldn’t ask anything of her, and I’d allow her to have whatever odd sleeping and eating schedule she needed, Mom welcomed the chance for me to come and stay for the weekend. What did we do? Nothing, really, and that was the beauty of it. The “nothing” consisted of watching TV, viewing a chick flick on dvd, taking naps, reading email, taking the dog for a walk… did I mention napping? One thing that Mom did was write in her journal, where she intended to find five things to be thankful for each day. And what did I notice through my time there? One word: peace. We had fun chats, but we also reveled in the lack of sound and activity. It was lovely, in ways that cannot really be quantified.

When Mom found in September that the chemo-poison in her bloodstream made her traditionally-adored morning cup of coffee taste rather vile, she had decided to make a large batch of hot cocoa mix, a recipe she had used since I was quite young. So her morning coffee time became time for a hot and creamy cocoa beverage, as she greeted the day with a mug and a smile. And she shared a tub of mix with her daughter’s family, thrilled to experience the chocolaty goodness a county away.

There are numerous anecdotes I could share about our peaks into Mom’s cancer journey, but I think it was summed up best by mom’s friend Nancy, as she shared a comment on my mother’s Caringbridge blog on September 28:

Everywhere I go people ask me about my dear friend, Betty.  When I tell them how well she is doing, that her attitude is good and her courage is strong, they simply nod their heads.  EVERY one of them tells me that they don’t know anyone as strong in their faith and courage as Betty–what a tribute to a wonderful lady.

They just nod their heads… what a tribute, and what a goal. We love you, Mom, and we’re so happy that your treatment journey is almost completed!

“So do you feel older now?” I’ve been jokingly asked by friends, and I must admit that I feel a bit older than I did a little while ago… doesn’t that mean I’m being realistic? A good thing about age is that it brings experience. This isn’t saying that “experience” equates to wisdom, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. Experiences of different kinds can help foster empathy, compassion, sound judgment, knowledge, and even a sense of humor. Life’s encounters may bring tears, joy, sometimes both… but they can’t exactly be quantified. Time also provides more chances to make really stupid decisions. (This last sentence is for those who believe I am too optimistic. I choose not to dwell but try to learn, so take it as you wish.)

As we approach a new year, I do have a few snapshots about which I am quite thankful. They may involve numbers, but numerical values don’t exactly mirror the heart of life’s happenings. Reflecting the state of flux in which my life frequently seems to be, I’ll present here a list:

A FEW IMPORTANT-ISH PARTS OF ANGIE’S 2011
(ones not mentioned in other blog posts already, of course)

• I had a birthday on December 10. This is an annual event, but because there was a significant number involved, my wonderful husband decided to hold a fun birthday open house. And why was “getting older” a pleasant happening? One word: CHOCOLATE. This was the theme, and there were several chocolate treats, not to mention loads of international chocolates sent from T.R.’s friends around the world. I think a chocolate blog post is a must in the future, as I still continue to delve into the pile of sweet treats.
• I’ve passed the five-year point with Tysabri, the MS medication that seems to be helping slow progression more than any of the other four major meds was able to. A trip to Fort Wayne Neurological Center happens each month, and though the nurses there are lovely folks, I continue to pray for something closer to a “cure.” They don’t need to deal with the likes of me each month. I have better things to do, and I’m sure they do also.
• Though my most tangible and incredibly appreciated birthday gift was the laptop on which I am typing this post (which also deserves its own post in the near future!), a few days before the chocolate celebration I received a wonderful phone call. Mom started chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer in September, and this purposeful poisoning was not being very nice to her. (This is also a future blog post, “They just nod their heads.”) The nasty cancer treatments were to continue through January, but the wonderful call was to share that Mom was finished with her chemotherapy! It was such a blessing to know that the oncologist agreed with me that the poisoning had been sufficient. So my mother would be able to attend her daughter’s fortieth birthday party, enjoying cheesecake bars, a chocolate fountain, and hugs. I was proud that unlike the August phone call, this one did not cause immediate tears. No, the tissues waited until after the call was complete.
• I have started writing “for real” – three of my pieces have been printed in paper publications, one online, and one radio script. And I had a poem accepted for printing in our annual campus literary publication. This will be in February 2012, and I’ll write more about it then. I also have scads of “ding letters,” letting me know that my writings didn’t fit their needs at the time. More will come, but I hope to grow as a writer, and growth won’t happen without more training and pruning along the way.

There were many other happenings, but I am determined to submit this today, and become less “invisible”-ish as 2012 progresses. I’m not one for resolutions, but goals are good. As God uses my life limitations to teach lessons, I’ll try to share those with a smile, sometimes a tear, and more frequency. Happy New Year!

“They found a lump. It is very small, and there don’t appear to be others.” I wasn’t shocked when Mom shared this information last week, but the news was not expected. Her mother, my grandmother, had faced breast cancer about thirty years ago. The recurrence that ultimately sent her Home happened when I was in junior high. On the day of Mom’s initial news, I will admit that tears finally came as I lay in bed that night. Memories are funny things, particularly those of a formerly adolescent girl who is now nearing forty; those memories came in flashes, causing me to contemplate similarities and differences with the current situation.

The time, I know, is a big difference. This is another decade in medical science, and “cancer” has a different meaning than it did in the early 80’s, different treatments… knowing doesn’t necessarily help a great deal, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

One similarity, though, is key. My grandmother always had a serenity about her, knowing that the Lord was her shepherd, and she would not want. As the youngest of her ten granddaughters, I couldn’t help but feel a little cheated when she passed away, missing out on this unique, strong female mentor. But I didn’t really “miss out,” as Grandma and Grandpa had given their children the inheritance of faith and love, one they share with their own children and grandchildren. As I see my own parents expressing their faith each day, I can’t help but smile when Mom lets me know, in the midst of her news, how she would be facing this. “One day at a time,” Mom said, assuring me that she was at peace. “Really, I am,” she said, and I believed her.

We are currently waiting for biopsy results, and like Mom, the family is all taking this one day at a time. As Grandma reminded the adolescent Angie, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” As He leads all of our family, I continue to pray for peace, as we all accept this… one day at a time.

——————————————–
Aug. 4 news: Biopsy results are in: cancer doesn’t appear to have spread beyond the chest, and surgery is scheduled for Wednesday, August 10. Please lift Mom and Dad in prayer, and pray that our entire family can continue to feel that peace that passes understanding. Six more days… as we face this one day at a time.

update on 8-13-11: Mom’s surgery went well, it was on Wednesday and she came home Thursday. She is healing, and in a few weeks, chemotherapy will begin. Thank you for your thoughts, prayers and support!

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve balked at the mere idea of an ereader (an electronic reader) for quite some time. The exception here is my Bible, for after seeing a friend in Bible study use hers with such finesse, I decided to simplify things there. I would be able to use a small, handheld reader (a palm pilot at the time), and the palm-sized device could hold my notes, not to mention three versions of the Bible to help when I wished to find clarification. Nice.

Other books are less bulky than my favorite Bible, but they’re all such friends that the idea of replacing those with a techie toy just grated on my sensibilities. The Bible was difficult (emotionally, not technically), though I enjoyed the smaller size and the search capabilities… but for everyday reading?? I think not. I had heard about Amazon’s Kindle, about the “epaper” display, so there wouldn’t be glare or eye strain like reading from a computer screen. Unlike my palm pilot, the battery was supposed to last weeks without a new charge. …I still didn’t know, but then I got to interact with one a bit when my husband purchased one last October. I was pleasantly surprised when I held it and read from it for a while… and I decided that I was going to step over to the dark side. After saving birthday and Christmas funds, I did indeed purchase my own Kindle ereader. When people talk to me about this technology and ask for my thoughts, I’m thrilled to answer, as several things that come to mind. Here are a few:

1. I can carry over 100 books with me wherever I go, and they weigh less than the book I checked out from the library. With my own balance and mobility issues, this is particularly helpful.

2. Along those lines, when I’m in a doctor’s waiting room (like when a daughter breaks a bone and we sit for more than a half hour before going back), I can open a word puzzle game that we both play together.

3. Of the 100+ books on my device we’ve only had to pay for a few. The NIV Study Bible was one, and the other is a trilogy T.R. purchased about hobbits and a ring and a place called Middle Earth. You might have heard of it before. But where did the others come from? Well, anything published before 1924 is “public domain,” meaning the texts are available free of charge; many have been released in Kindle format, so they can be downloaded and read. (I downloaded 18 books for Rachel when she did a report about Louisa May Alcott. Our library is good, but they only had a few LMA-related volumes.)

4. Besides “public domain” items, Amazon has free Kindle items from time to time. My first two books to read were by two authors I enjoy, Randy Alcorn and Janette Oke. Another I just downloaded that I’m excited to read is a work by author/poet Wendall Berry… our town library doesn’t carry any of his, so I may even purchase a few of his books in the future… but this will get me started.

5. Here’s a reason that may seem unusual, but this technology been an unforeseen blessing. You see, I have an infusion once per month for my MS medication, Tysabri. I get to spend an hour with a needle in one arm, then an hour after that in the same room, making sure that there are no reactions to the meds. What does this have to do with reading? Well, during that hour+, it’s hard to read a book, as it’s tough to hold a book AND turn pages with only one hand available, as the other arm is elevated, and moving it can give the IV problems. But with the Kindle, one can read and turn pages by pressing a button on the left or right side. So you don’t need to worry about losing your page number, turning the page, or moving an arm that is to stay still. Hooray!

6. Due to the simplicity with which I can now have a book available to read, I am finding another unforeseen benefit: I read more. I really do plan to purchase some non-free volumes from Amazon in the near future, but even so, the simplicity and accessibility factors are helping reawaken the reader inside. (I suppose you could call that “rekindling.”)

I remember thinking – and perhaps saying – that I love books, but an ebook just wouldn’t be the same. Well, it may not be the same, but I’m finding that a little electronic reader can help enhance my reading experience in ways I hadn’t foreseen. My six points leave out a few of the advantages of an ebook, but this isn’t meant to be a term paper. Just a blog post: a blog post celebrating the fact that a small piece of technology could rekindle a love I’d almost forgotten I had.

Observe MS Awareness Week

March 14-20 marks the 2011 “MS Awareness Week.” I find this interesting, as I experience fifty-two of these each year, but is nice that a bit of time is set aside to share facts with others. Over 400,000 individuals in the United States face this challenge, so this is a week to shine a light on information that may be new… or misunderstood.

As our friend “G. I. Joe” used to say at the end of each cartoon in the 80’s, “Knowing is half the battle.” Knowing what MS is — and what it isn’t — is helpful in gaining an understanding of this illness. So what is multiple sclerosis? It is an autoimmune disorder, meaning that the otherwise helpful immune system is affecting something it shouldn’t. In this case, the white blood cells are attacking several (multiple) places on the coating of the nerves. These attacks create scars (sclerosis). Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Not so fast. Consider the nerves that run through the body, not to mention the large bundle of nerve tissue that we call the brain. In fact, using MRI technology, scars viewed in the brain often lead to a diagnosis of MS.

If it is anything, MS is unpredictable. Scientists are still uncertain as to the initial cause of this disease, there is not a certain pattern that it always follows, and it can vary quite widely from one individual to another. The best area analogy I have found is the menu of Upland’s Ivanhoe’s restaurant. This eatery is largely known for its 100 varieties of shakes and sundaes, and MS can vary just as much, if not more. Some are diagnosed and may have a small vanilla shake, with no additional or noticeable symptoms after the initial onset. Others, though, experience a large shake not even on the menu, with ingredients they never liked to start with. Symptoms can include fatigue, loss of coordination, heat sensitivity, slurred speech, cognitive problems… and I’ll stop there, as this is a bit disheartening.

Besides knowing what MS is, it is equally important that we realize what it isn’t. MS is not a death sentence: though chronic, it is not fatal. MS is also not the sign that somebody has lost his or her ability to be productive. Every individual, like those beloved gourmet shakes, is different. The last two homes where we lived had us next door to an individual with MS, something I certainly didn’t realize at first. You see, MS is not obvious. Two thirds of those diagnosed with multiple sclerosis are female, but this means that many are also male. MS is also not age-specific. A few are diagnosed as young as six, some in their 50’s or 60’s, but the majority in their 20’s or 30’s. Many are from Western European ancestry, but this also varies. And it is estimated that about a fourth of those with MS end in a wheelchair, but three fourths do not.

So why should we be aware? More and more medical breakthroughs are on the horizon. There are currently six medications on the market to help slow MS progression, and a cure is closer each day. In the meantime, patience and understanding are key in helping support our friends and neighbors with MS. Now you know, and though simply knowing may not be half the battle, it is certainly a step in the right direction.

Angie Knight lives in Upland and is affiliated with the Marion Area Multiple Sclerosis Support Group.

WAIT… I just did it! Did what? IT is a nasty habit I didn’t realized I had developed. If I may, I will gladly defer the blame to William Shatner, or, to be more exact, to Gene Roddenberry. The latter was an American screenwriter and futurist, best known as the original developer of “Star Trek.” As the wife of a Trekker (or Trekkie, depending on one’s definition), the opening lines of the show, first narrated by William Shatner, are quite familiar. The mission of the Enterprise is clearly stated: “To boldly go where no man has gone before.” I wouldn’t expect this mission to be described, “Boldly, to go where no man has gone before” or even “To go boldly where no man has gone before.” No, the mission was clearly “to boldly go where no man has gone before.” (The newer renditions, including the newest movie, state “no one” rather that “no man,” but the rest or the phrase remains unchanged.)

I am relatively certain that William Shakespeare’s written words are more widely recognized than Gene Roddenberry’s. In one of the most oft-quoted passages of Shakespeare, Hamlet utters the questioning phrase, “To be or not to be, that is the question.” It is hard to imagine Hamlet saying, “To be or to not be.” – huh? That simply does not work.

So what is wrong here? I will give Gene Roddenberry credit in that he was a professional, and a writer is allowed to break semantic rules, as long as he knows what they are and why he’s breaking them. (At least this is what my eighth grade English teacher told us. I have held to it, particularly when I knowingly sprinkle sentence fragments into my writings. Fun. ) But there is one thing for which I do not excuse Mr. Roddenberry: he made split infinitives sound correct, even artistic. An infinitive is a form of the verb which, in English, starts with “to” then is followed by the root verb. In Spanish, an infinitive is all one word; for instance “cantar” is “to sing.” I wouldn’t be able to split the infinitive there, as it is all one word. In English, though, it is possible “to boldly go” or “to not be,” if a writer so desires.

Why does this matter? In last semester’s writing class, this was the most common technical error I was to (aimlessly) make. I started catching myself, but I would still find “split infinitive” written in red or green ink in a margin. Poor professor! Other errors were smaller and less obvious, but I didn’t seem to find these on my own.

I will be starting another writing class this semester. This will be taught by a different professor, and I hope to not inundate him with split infinitives… or maybe I hope not to inundate him. We’ll see which way it goes.

Unlike MS, there are some illnesses that have a standard road map, one from which the patient rarely veers.  The speed of travel may vary, but the path is seemingly set in stone.  One of these ailments is ALS, also known as “Lou Gehrig’s Disease.”  ALS is a degenerative disease in which neurons in the brain and spinal cord break down, causing degeneration of muscles and systems throughout the body.  The rate and order in which this occurs may vary, but a cure or treatment does not yet exist.  There is a possibility of a few on the horizon, but this is not yet a reality.

So why the biology lesson?  A dear man, a mentor and friend went home to be with the Lord last Thursday after a five-year journey with ALS.  Wally Roth was a professor of my husband during his student days, but he was also a man of God whose love, wit, intellect and heart reached so many.  Wally’s wonderful wife Marlene was not only T.R.’s favorite elementary school teacher, but she was a friend of mine and co-leader in our ladies’ community Bible study for many years.  I recall when she stepped away from that commitment in order to offer care for her husband.  The “caregiver” role is often undervalued, I think, as I know from very personal experience that it can be difficult to accept limitations.  (This is such an understatement… and I can only imagine the way in which the magnitude of struggle would multiply for a gentleman who was a respected leader and head of household, with so many abilities and responsibilities, not to mention that he was a recently retired college professor.)

Several months ago, I recall a conversation I had with Jay Kesler, filling the role of “teaching pastor” at our church.  “Your ears may have been burning a little while ago,” Dr. Kesler told me.  As I asked why this would be, Jay told me it was during an exchange with Wally Roth.  My response: “Wally and Marlene are in our prayers each day… what an amazing picture they are of perseverance and faith.”   “That’s funny – he said the same thing about you.”  Jay went on to say that people with ‘stuff’ in their lives often draw more attention to others than themselves.  I don’t know about this… but I know this was certainly the case with Wally.

Mission and prayer were an important part of Wally’s life, and the legacy he is leaving behind is one that I’m sure will inspire many.  His work with OM, with mission work at the Taylor Computer Science department, then with our church’s Mission Board were physical ways in which his commitment was visible.  As he did his very best to come to church each Sunday that he could, we all witnessed Wally’s commitment and tenacity.  On top of all of this, we all saw something just as profound, and that is the love and commitment of his dear Marlene.  She reached out as a Mentor Mom to the MOPS ladies, spent time with grandchildren, taught Bible study and cared for Wally in ways that I can only begin to comprehend.

I know that Wally and Marlene both looked to II Corinthians 12 for inspiration, as Paul shared, “… for when I am weak, then I am strong.”  During the past year or so, Wally wore a neck brace to keep his head upright, but I truly think that his faith and tenacity were even more evident at that time: strength was evident through the weaknesses we perceived.  I know that his Homegoing is a thing to celebrate, but my prayers are also with his family that is left behind here.  Knowing that Wally’s ministry and legacy remain, may the family find peace knowing that our hearts, purposes, direction and faith have been undeniably touched by this lovable professor, mentor and brother.

The “sugar” (and medicine) read as follows: Our three editors reviewed [your article] collectively and have decided to set it free for other possible ministry opportunities.

We do appreciate your interest Angela, and look forwarded to considering your work in the future.

You know, “setting the article free” does sound a bit nicer than, “Nope. I don’t think so.”

T.R. and I had to chuckle as we were picturing Free Willy, swimming among the ocean waves, but I am going to look further.

I just had to share a bit there… I don’t plan to make a large “rejection slips” folder, but I don’t intend to delete this either. It’s nice to know that I’m “free” to do whichever I wish. And a Julie Andrews-inspired soundtrack doesn’t hurt.

[3:00 addendum: I just received my first writing-related check!  I have a radio script for a devotion that will be airing in February on "Fresh Perspectives" on WBCL.  It's called "The Real Thing" and is about Queen Anne's Lace and Wild Hemlock.  ...I think God knew that one story was just set free and decided to help me smile. ]

If you are familiar with Esther’s story, you know that Mordecai was spot on.  Queen Esther not only helped save the Jewish people from destruction, but she helped uncover a plot to kill her uncle.  (See the book of Esther for details.)

Stories of ancient queens, kings and death plots may not seem to apply to life today, but I experienced a “Mordeai Moment” yesterday.  Once a month, I travel to Fort Wayne for my monthly Tysabri infusion, and yesterday was the September infusion day.  (In fact, it has now officially been four years since I started the medication!)  In the infusion center, there are two comfy recliners in which individuals reside while receiving their medication (mine takes a total of two hours – some are longer, some a bit shorter).  There is a TV/DVD player in the room, and I sometimes tote a dvd in my bag in case my arm position has to be such that holding a book is difficult.  On many days, I am the only person receiving medication at that time, but this was not the case yesterday.  The patient in the other chair (I’ll call her Shari) was having a steroid infusion due to MS.  I let her know that this is an infusion I’ve experienced before (at least four or five times, but not recently), so I literally knew how that felt.  Shari wasn’t extremely chatty, so I pulled out my dvd to see if she and her sister (who had come with her) were at all interested.  We actually didn’t watch much, but this was an excellent conversation starter.

The program I had was a comedy routine by Chonda Pearce – I hadn’t watched this for a bit, and it always makes me laugh.  But Shari’s sister has seen Chonda Pearce in person, at a “Women of Faith” conference.  And this got the conversation started… if other people are hooked up to an IV, I generally don’t pry and ask lots of questions, as this is a bit of a personal thing, but as we chatted, I found out that Shari was just diagnosed with MS on Friday.  This was Monday.  Her sister had traveled up from Florida to help Shari make sense of this all, to look for answers… and both lovely ladies were searching.  Once I heard this, the DVD went off, and I became a resource and friend. 

What exactly is MS?  What causes it?  Is there a cure?  Will these symptoms I’m experiencing go away?  How did it start for you?  What other symptoms might crop up?  …you mean that when I’ve been experiencing depression, for which I’m now on a number if medications, that could actually have been triggered by MS?  Where can I go for reliable information?  Will I have to go on disability?  You mean it’s THIRTEEN years since you were diagnosed?  Can I keep working?  And what if time due to medical things is an issue with work?  Which doctor do you see?  Do you live nearby?

Strangely enough, as facilitator of our area MS support group, I was able to give Sherri’s sister answers to write down – phone numbers, websites, definitions, examples, stories, and encouragement.  There are five medications for relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis, and I am one of those unusual folks who has been on all five at one time or another.  I found the doctor Shari is going to see on Wednesday is Dr. Stevens, the same neurologist I’ve been coming to for thirteen years.  (She smiled when telling her sister of her appointment with the doctor last Friday – when Sheri apologized for not having shaved her legs, he smiled and let her know that he hadn’t shaved his either.)  The thing that most impressed both ladies, though, was when I shared that even though it wasn’t something we openly discussed, I knew this was a doctor who shared our same faith.  Once Shari’s infusion was finished, her sister asked if the three of us could pray together before they left.  So we held hands and prayed for God’s will, answers, direction and peace. 

Bending my elbow had made the little infusion machine beep – I apologized to the nurse after Sheri left, but I explained that if you need to flex your arm in order to hold hands and pray, I was willing to wait the extra few minutes of infusion time, as this isn’t something that happens every day.  Then the nurse – another lovely woman with whom I’ve had similar exchanges before, played the Mordecai role.  “Now we know why YOU are the one who was scheduled to be HERE today.”  (“Who knows that you have come into the world for such a time as this?”)

The song that really had me contemplating was “Heaven is Waiting,” one that I enjoyed playing repeatedly after we purchased the Canticle of the Plains CD at Rich’s Indiana concert in August 1997.  This was the first venue at which the CD was available for purchase… little did I know that this, the final concert of Rich’s tour, would be the only time he’d have the CD available after a performance.  Thirteen years ago today, Rich died in an automobile accident, and a little piece of my life was never quite the same.

One thing I noticed about Rich, from the first time I met him and heard his music in 1984, is that he didn’t just go through life haphazardly, but he LIVED and FELT so deeply… and as I aged and heard Rich’s music grow, I could see little windows into his soul (only the windows from which he chose to lift the blinds).  Rich felt so much, he thought so much, he struggled so much that I have to wonder – did God perhaps choose to call Rich “Home” so that his heart could be at peace?

Rich may not have realized that one of his Canticle songs would be autobiographical.  “Heaven Is Waiting” was written by Rich, his friend Beaker, and Mitch McVicker (who also sang the role of “Frank”).  Here is the last section of the song, the one that requires a tissue on my part, each time I hear it:

So don’t ask for no lengthy explanation
when there ain’t no reason quite wild enough
no words could be as tender
it’s greater than the fears that we imagine
more than the warmth that we remember
it’s always just beyond the pass – and I must go…

‘Cause heaven is waiting
just past the horizon
just over the mesas
across the great divide
and faith is blazing
this trail that I ride on
up this mountain I’m prayin’
I have the strength to climb
Oh, heaven is waiting.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us the gift of Rich and his life and his music.  Please continue to teach me through Your word and the words and music of Your children here on this earth – and for those of us left behind who continue to struggle with parts of life, please continue to give us glimpses into Your truth.  For as Rich and “Frank” reminded us, heaven is waiting.