For worse...

June 2, 1984, Gilbertown, AL:
"I, Lisa, take you, Mike, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death alone shall part us."

(or words to that effect...)

Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him"...Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.
Genesis 2:18, 24-25

We focus on "having & holding" & "better" & "richer" & "in health." As we should. Weddings should make us go "awww..."

But the other thing they should do is fill us with AWE. Awe at what we're promising. Awe that the family was the very first institution God created (NOT the church, not the government, not schools, not businesses, not cities...FAMILIES). Awe that marriage reflects in so many ways what God does in relating to us. Awe at the reality behind what the words mean that are being said.

(Related aside: Lisa & I "started a family" on June 2, 1984...four years later, we had our first child, right when we wanted to do so. Realizing that is why I *never* ask a young married couple "so, when are you going to start a family?" They did so on their wedding day; the only remaining question is, how large will that family become...)

I was presiding minister at a wedding some years back. I doubt I'll have a higher honor this side of Glory. An INCREDIBLE experience!

("So, where are you heading w/ this?" Glad you asked!) I've been thinking much on some of the pre-marital teaching the presiding pastor at our wedding shared with us in 1984. GREAT stuff! I still clearly remember him looking at me, with Lisa sitting right there in his office with me, and asking "Mike, God forbid, but what if you're pulling away from church & are in a terrible accident such that she's paralyzed from the neck down. Does that change the way you feel about her & about this marriage? If so, I'd advise you to hold off on the wedding..." An awesome, holy silence followed...I realized that there was WAY more to this marriage stuff than simply acquiring a close buddy, or sex, or another income. One word has both haunted me & challenged me about my own marriage: responsibility. After all, I repeated very similar vows myself to the ones at the beginning of this entry before God, my family, her family, our friends,...

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her...
Ephesians 5:25

There's a lot of controversy in recent years over the "wives, submit" part of Ephesians 5. I fully understand why that is; however, landing that one is not the purpose of this post. But have you read on ahead to the requirements of the very same passage for the husband? My hunch is that one of the main reasons for the pushback on the "submit" part is that we husbands are not keeping *our* part of the deal; we're not very good at "loving our wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her"...Just the one verse above haunts me & challenges me on a daily basis. I'm still *very much* a work in progress on this one myself, after 26+ years of working on it...

Sometimes, marriage involves all giggles & grins for decades on end. But frankly--and with apologies to my newly- & nearly-married friends--that is the VERY RARE exception. Sure, there are those giggles & grins times, where you just can't imagine more pleasing circumstances. But alas...

Sometimes, marriage involves one spouse losing a job. And having to move. And not having as much $$ as planned. And career changes. And the simultaneous GLORIOUS blessings and OVERWHELMING challenges of kids. And it always involves (eventually) not being 25 forever.

And sometimes...God forbid that this happen to you!...marriage involves things like this:

--being utterly alone in surgical waiting rooms at places like M.D. Anderson Cancer Center waiting for the nurse to step out & call your name to come see the surgeon to see how the operation went on your spouse.

(The surgery patient--me--has BY FAR the easier part of this deal, if you're wondering. Also, it frankly matters very little whether friends & family are there in the waiting room; the spouse will still feel utterly alone.)

--Sleeping on a foldout chair in a hospital room while listening to your spouse's very shallow, labored breathing along with the beeps & hisses of all of the machines he's hooked up to.

--Being awakened every couple of hours for yet another blood sugar stick & vital sign check.

--Being awakened by the sound of him not able to catch his breath & having to call for help because he's physically not able to do so.

--8-hour drives home becoming 10- & 11-hour drives because he's basically non-functional over there in the passenger seat, and yet he has to get out & walk around to keep from clotting up after surgery.

--Not freaking out when he's bazooka-barfing because of post-surgery anesthesia related effects.

--Changing surgical wound dressings.

--Pulling out pain pumps from his chest.

--Helping him wash himself because he's not able to do so on his own.

--Helping him get to bed because the pain meds made him crash while sitting on the couch watching TV

--Waiting yet again in a Dr.'s office for the latest most-important-ever scan results & hoping...

There is absolutely NOTHING romantic about any of the above. Nothing sexy or "awww" or "how sweet!" or "fun!" about them.

And yet, that's been Lisa Madaris' lot in life these last few weeks. And multiple times 2 years ago. And again 5 years ago. And there, ladies & gents, is what separates real love from squishy, romance-novel, TV love. "The Bachelorette"? Um, negative... "The Kardishians"? Please!!

The Bible speaks of three main forms of love: eros - basically, physical, romantic love, as in "erotic"; phileo - friendly, brotherly love, as in "Philadelphia - City of Brotherly Love"...and agape.

Let the word lay there a moment. AGAPE. ("ah-gah-pay" more or less). Self-sacrificing love. Love that gives, expecting nothing in return. Love that solely seeks the best for the beloved (NOT for oneself).

I'm convinced that it is the latter--agape--that is the basis for a joyful, long-lasting marriage. Note carefully: ALL ARE NEEDED! There's certainly a place for eros love in a marriage (see "Song of Solomon" for but one example of the high priority the Bible places on erotic love...and keep in mind Who it was that invented sex in the first place...it wasn't anyone in Hollywood! *smile*) And the companionship, phileo love of a spouse that enables each other to complete sentences for the other correctly is a great treasure.

But those both fade into the distance when agape love shows up. "Wow! S/he's hot!" just fails miserably when a marriage confronts, say, stage IV metastatic melanoma. "S/he's my best friend" just will not get one through those long nights in the hospital...or at home during recovery.

On June 2, 1984, when Lisa & I made vows to each other in the church there in Gilbertown, AL, we didn't have a clue. Note: the list of topics about which I had not a clue was very long then...and is still long now...but "love"--especially agape love--was right up there toward the top of the list back then.

Now, I know a bit more about it. Because I have seen it. Lived it. Received it. From one who will be TERRIBLY embarrassed at this blog entry. She would say she's just doing what loving wives do. Duty. I disagree. I've received "duty" too, and it feels just like someone doing their duty. Duty is fine and is needed, but it is NOT agape love. Receiving self-sacrificing, agape love like I have received feels entirely different.

To wind this up, if any of you want to see agape love, don't look to me as the example. Rather, look to my bride. You'll have to watch closely, as she does her thing out of public view mostly. And as you watch, note the loving, joy-filled smile on her face. There, my friends, is what love looks like.

I, among men, am so very blessed and grateful that my Lord drew me to my wife in the early 1980s. And I am still amazed that He drew her to me, with my many & manifest issues then. And now. And I am humbled beyond measure that He has put in my home one of the great examples of agape love that I've ever seen. And I hope she's nearly finished having to do the yucky stuff...here's to years of love that doesn't require any more of all that she's had to give these last few years.

Deeply in love & receiving amazing love,
Mike

p.s. - "not good for man to be alone"...ESPECIALLY true of this man! *smile*

On the Goodness of God in the MIdst of Stage IV Cancer...

12 surgical scars. 4 surgeries (well, 8, if you consider that the first go-round in 2005 involved a tumor resection, a skin graft, & two different lymph node removals all @ the same time...).

Two cycles of high-dose immunotherapy. Approximately 14 P.E.T. scans. Multiple MRIs. Two needle biopsies (*Zero* fun!). MRAs. EKGs. EEGs. Echo stress tests. Seemingly gallons of blood drawn.

The repeated, faithful, prayers of MANY wonderful saints. I'll come back to that...

And then this: "Your P.E.T. scan is normal"..."You're doing *great*"..."Nothing shows on your P.E.T. scan"...

And this, from my surgeon, Dr. Mehran: "So, Mr. Madaris, you no longer have need of my services. Go home & resume your normal life..."

Statistically, I am an extreme outlier. Metastatic melanoma is one of the worst forms of cancer. Stage IV metastatic melanoma is, literally, the worst of the worst. One of my MDA Drs. told me I was "living outside the numbers." One of the NPs told me they refer to me as the "miracle patient."

All of which leads me back to the goodness of God.

God has been *AMAZINGLY* good to me. Lisa & I are delighted that He has chosen to use some excellent physicians, nurses, & techs here in town and out at M.D. Anderson to bring me back to "cancer-free" again. Not sure I'd go with "miraculous," but at the very least, that I'm still here is beating the odds.

That's the easy side of God's goodness. But what about in June, 2008, when one of those Doctors said "you have multiple tumors in both lungs...stage IV metastatic melanoma"? Please read carefully: God was good to me then too! Equally good back then in Dr Kim's office as He was last Tuesday in Dr. Mehran's office. That is hard for us to get our earthly, finite minds around. And it is also absolutely critical for us to get into our minds and our theology! God's goodness is not determined nor judged by circumstances we might deem "favorable."

A long time ago, this guy encountered many situations at once that created massive suction for his earthly life. His wife ridiculed his faith & told him to "curse God & die." His response is for the ages, and has been so very helpful to me these past, well, 5 years since my initial diagnosis and especially these last 2 years of stage IV: "Shall we receive good from God and not evil?" and "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." and "I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth..."

Here's what my beloved Lisa said last Tuesday. (She was at work, & thus sent this as a text) "May we remember in the sunshine what God has taught us in the storm..."

Has it ever occurred to you that it may well be because of God's goodness that He causes/allows really yucky stuff to come to our lives?

Let me say that again: Has it ever occurred to you that it may well be because of God's goodness that He causes/allows really yucky stuff to come to our lives?

I would NOT have chosen cancer. Not even once, but especially not twice. And DEFINITELY not stage IV metastatic melanoma.

But Oh. My. Goodness. The lessons we have learned in this storm!! Without presuming upon God's providential ordering of history & of Mike Madaris' life, it's quite likely that I would not have learned some of the sweetest, most treasured theological truths of my Christian life apart from the blessing that came to me in the form of the storm of stage IV metastatic melanoma.

Painful? Absolutely! Even now, as I type, I'm feeling a little pain around my most recent surgery site. And the physical pain is but one aspect. A friend who is a survivor of a very nasty cancer herself recently said this: "I'm excited about going to heaven, but I don't want to leave my spouse & my children yet." Couldn't have said it better than that myself! So, yeah, these past 5 years have brought a LOT of intense pain, physical & otherwise. Especially these last two years...

Worth it? ABSOLUTELY!! Please know that answer doesn't come easily nor flippantly. Many an hour spent in prayer, in anguish of soul, in pain--physical & otherwise, in tears, in terror, in thought, & in the Bible lie behind it. I read a book a couple of years ago written by a guy whose wife died slowly & painfully of cancer; he titled the book Celebrating the Wrath of God. VERY challenging read...and concept. C.S. Lewis said it this way (paraphrased): "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world” Exactly. I know SO much more now about my Lord and my own sin and prayer and agape love and the indescribable treasure of my redemption in Christ than I know in October, 05, right before this journey started. Lisa has said the same thing. Again, see her quote above.

About the prayer thing...among the MANY totally-humbling aspects of this glorious, hellacious journey, there's the reality of the grace of God demonstrated through the prayers on my behalf of so many saints. Some of whom--many of whom, actually--I'll likely never meet this side of glory. But they...you...have faithful and passionately interceded before God on my behalf. One day...maybe...I'll not choke up instantly when someone says "I've been praying for you!" Or when someone is introduced to Lisa or me & says the same thing.

If you're looking for a nice, tidy theological tidying up of the challenge of God's sovereign providence & its relationship to the prayers mentioned here...keep looking. All I know is this: God IS sovereign and good and in control, and nothing catches Him by surprise...and He calls us to pray and intercede for others...and I was given what's mighty close to a death sentence 2 years ago...., and many interceded on my behalf...and I am now cancer-free.

To all who have bombarded the throneroom of glory & Him Who sits on that throne on our behalf, well,...there's not a good enough phrase or word in the English language. Three things to you from the depths of my soul: (1) THANK YOU!!!!! (2) Lisa & I love you! (3) Only eternity will clearly show the difference your prayers made. So PLEASE keep praying on behalf of others! Scripture says it avails much, so keep on asking!

To all who have mowed my yard or brought us a meal or taught my Sunday School class or covered my office hours & classes or loved on & encouraged my children & Lisa & written & commented here & via email & facebook...and to those whose cars we have driven out to Houston...and whose gas cards we have used...and whose homes we have invaded...you have done it unto the least of these; therefore, you have done it unto the Lord, Whose hands & feet & love we have basked in through you.

So, yes...God has been good to us. Always. I am delighted to be cancer-free! (Now if this post-op recovery would go ahead & become complete...*smile*) But were I NOT cancer-free, please know that would NOT dimish the goodness of Jehovah Shammah, the Lord Who is Present (one of my favorite names of God in Scripture).

It has been and will continue to be my prayer that God would magnify Himself through me in the midst of this situation. Join me in that prayer, won't you?

With humbly-thankful, rejoicing love,
Mike

p.s. - I'll leave you with one of my very favorite passages in all of Scripture; this has become my life passage these last couple of years. Enjoy!
For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair...So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:6-8, 16-18

Some Things the VAST Majority of the Population of the Globe Doesn’t Care About in the Slightest…

--Who is ranked #1 in the various preseason college football polls

--Whether Brett Favre will play football this year

--Who Justin Beiber is

--Whether the Jets & Darelle Revis will reach agreement on a contract for this year

--Whether Alabama can repeat as BCS National Champions

--The probability of USM beating USC in the season opener

--Jeremiah Misoli’s prospects for his season as an Ole Miss Rebel

--How Brantley will do as QB for the Tebow-less UF Gators

--Tiger Woods

--Oak Grove…Petal…Sumrall…PCS…and their respective sports teams & records

--Whether a particular church sings mostly hymns or choruses in its worship services

--Which political party maintains or establishes a majority in this Fall’s U.S. Congressional elections

--Sean Hannity…Rachel Maddow…Rush Limbaugh…Keith Olberman…or anything they have to say

--The BCS or any college football playoff proposal

--Where LeBron & Shaq now live & play

--Whether the Saints can repeat

--Who is in any sport’s Hall of Fame

--What Mike Madaris thinks or writes or teaches about anything

(I’ll add more later…in fact, I could see this becoming an open, ongoing thread of discussion)

Avery Willis

Dr. Avery Willis went to be with Jesus a couple of days ago.


I never met the man. But in terms of impacting my life in gigantic & significant ways, Avery Willis is right up there very near the top of the list.


He captured some of his missionary experiences in discipling others years ago into a process he called "Masterlife." When Lisa & I took it, it was two reddish notebooks. Now, it's four thinner notebooks.


It is via his "Masterlife" that Avery Willis changed my life in HUGE ways, including changing my work, my prayerlife, my Bible study--which later became my Bible teaching--my family life, my church membership, my missions involvement,...really & truly, the entire trajectory of all that is Mike Madaris was radically transformed nearly 20 years ago via Masterlife. I will never be the same, and I am eternally grateful.


I still remember when my buddy Dr. Johnny Mayfield collared me outside of church about a year after we joined. "Me & Sandy are starting a small group up to work through Masterlife; you & Lisa need to be in it..." There wasn't really a question asked, which will not be surprising to all who know Doc. *smile* Important note: Johnny is a veterinarian. Not a minister. I'll come back to that.


And thus, there we were just a few weeks later sitting in a small room with several other couples, wondering what this "Masterlife" was all about. For me, it was the perfect storm: SUPERB discipleship material in the hands of a remarkable, passionate, gifted shepherd, with the Lord nudging & wooing my heart that it was time to stop playing church & time to start following Christ. James was just a baby, & Anne wasn't here yet.


So, Lisa & I spent a couple of hours a week in small group for the better part of a year. And I can't say this often enough--the entire course of my life changed during that time.


My prayer life changed...


A significant spiritual high point in my whole life was the part of Masterlife where we all spent three hours in prayer alone. An amazing experience! Plus, for the first time ever, I kept a prayer journal with specific requests over which I prayed regularly. Many of which I saw God answer. Prayer became so much more than "God bless us every one" or "I hope my team wins" or "thank you for this food, and wow, is she hot!" Prayer became an intimate experience of communicating with & listening to Him Who loved me & gave Himself up for me. And He *always* answers prayer; sometimes He says "yes"...sometimes He says "no"...sometimes he says "not yet"...Whatever the answer, I trust in His amazing grace & goodness & sovereignty.


My love of & understanding of the Bible changed...


We were required to memorize two verses of Scripture a week. I doubted I could do it; I was wrong. Well, I was right that I couldn't do it, but God enabled me to get it done. I learned how to read a passage inductively, taking it seriously and letting it speak for itself (what a concept, huh?). I learned that there's so much of Scripture that is crystal clear if we will but listen. I learned how to study in depth, and still VERY much enjoy studying a passage using only the Bible & cross references. (Commentaries are fine too, but try studying it on its own some time...) I came to greatly appreciate the unity of Scripture. One big story of God's pursuit of man...


The first time I ever shared my story on purpose was as part of Masterlife. The first time I ever shared the Gospel on purpose was as part of Masterlife. The first time I ever understood that I--a college professor in a business school of all things!--have a ministry via my job was as part of Masterlife. It was such a marvelous relevation that the elevation of the "sacred" at the expense of the "secular" (whatever those words mean) is not really part of what the Bible teaches us about our lives. My understanding of the sovereign providence of God was launched as part of Masterlife. I'm not a believer who's not quite spiritual enough to be a pastor & thus have to settle for being a professor...Rather, I am called by God to magnify His name via all of my life, including life on the college campus as a professor. (A favorite Bible stat: there's more in the words of Jesus in Scripture about practical money management & attitudes than there is about heaven & hell put together!) Remember the veterinarian? Yeah...He knows that he, too, has a ministry as part of his work; I can't tell you how many people have been encouraged, prayed for, challenged, blessed, and actually led to Christ because their dog or cat got sick. I do not have permission to be a slacker at work as long as I'm good w/ my church stuff; indeed, quite the opposite--I'm supposed to be excellent at work because I am a Christian. That's part & parcel of what it means to magnify the Lord in all of my life. (And way too often, I goof up at that particular part & parcel...)


All of those things are but part of the fruit of Dr. Avery Willis in the life of Mike Madaris. And I am but one of MANY who have been hugely impacted by Masterlife.


And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.
Luke 9:23 - the first verse we memorized in Masterlife.


By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.
John 15:8 - another we memorized.


Thank you, Dr. Willis, for living out the reality of those two verses. I can only imagine how your fruit looks from the perspective of eternity. I trust Lisa & I have been faithful stewards of the grace you taught us from a distance. Enter into the joy of our Lord! See you later. Thanks again!


In the Grip of His grace,
Mike

Where y'at? (Short Update)

Here's where I am @ the moment on this recovery journey.

--all tubes & pain pumps & such are gone
--most bandages are gone (still some strips over the actual surgery incision)
--pain gets better, albeit slowly. Yesterday, I tried to ease off on the pain meds; went OK until the afternoon, @ which point I realized it wasn't time to ease off on the pain meds yet.
--appetite mostly back to normal; still eating a bit less, probably because I'm actually doing quite a bit less...
--ability to do stuff improves by the day (note: I'm *definitely* taking this one slowly!)
--breathing exercises getting better fairly quickly. (I have 2 breathing toys I have to play with, and I'm improving with both)
--all oxygen tanks & pumps will be picked up today; I haven't used them since Saturday night!
--I actually slept in a fairly normal position last night for the first time! Part of the night back in my actual bed (for the 1st time) & part on my couch, as my sleep pattern was a bit off
--speaking of sleep pattern, I'm awake more during the day & sleep longer at night. Pretty much back to normal there

Things that aren't quite right yet;
--my thermostat's adjusting ability - if I step outside for 10 seconds, I'll come back in sweating profusely, and will do so for a *long* time after. If memory serves, this will be the case for another day or two
--strength - still not able to lift much nor pull much
--driving - post-op orders show next week; hope so! (but see the next one...)
--use of pain meds - I'd like to be off of them, but that time is not here yet, & won't be for a while. Hopefully, I can get off the narcotic ones shortly & be left w/ Ibuprofen.

I am very excited about being chauffered down to my class Thursday night on our coast campus! (MBA class in which I pretty much just listen to student group presentations; not much standing nor actual lecturing required)

To my GREAT regret, I've had to cancel my trip to Poland in August. I was scheduled to speak at a professor conference. Sadly, the pain & meds & much slower than anticipated recovery have ruled out my going this time. I'm VERY unhappy about this, but really don't have any other choice.

All in all, recovery's going fairly well, given that it's only been 8 days since my chest was cracked open & part of some ribs were removed!

Thanks SO much for your continued prayers & friendship!

In His Glorious Grip,
Mike

Things I'm Imagining @ the Moment...

...being able to compose an entire email without having to stop & take a short nap to rest in the middle of doing so

...being able to mow my lawn.
(James dreams of me being able to do this as well, since he's the man @ the moment...*smile*) Seriously, I'm not a huge digging-around-the-yard kind of guy--as my neighbors will attest!--but I dearly love the deeply-satisfying feeling of "taking dominion" that mowing the lawn provides..

...being able to drive again.
Maybe next week!

...being able to stand in front of a group & teach again.
(my students & my friends in my SS class may insert their own punch line here)

...being able to take the hills again
(fast-walking a hilly neighborhood nearby)

...being able to get on a cross-trainer & go for half an hour

...being able to ride a bicycle
Of course, this requires *owning* bicycle, which I don't. Soon, maybe..

...sleeping in a relaxed prone position

...doing so in my bed instead of sideways on the couch

...doing so without oxygen attached

...having no bandages or medical devices attached to me all day long
(The last device may come off today! Then the bandages later...)

...not having to carefully track multiple pain meds to keep from OD'ing

...standing under a long hot shower

...not having to use my incentive spirometer & my duck-call looking thing to do breathing exercises.

...washing my hair

...not having to keep this cute Teddy bear & an old wooden cane nearby in case of a sudden cough or a need to, well, get up

And mostly, just being pain free, with clean P.E.T. scans for years & decades to come!

Thanks for your prayers! Seeing progress, albeit at a *much* slower pace than I'd like...
Mike

A Quick Update (no, really!)

In contrast to my long Sunday night Starbucks-fueled post, this is a quick update of where we are in this process.

--A small melanoma tumor (approx 1.4 cm) was removed from the inside of one of my ribs Monday morning.
--This also required cutting off part of that rib. (An innocuous sounding sentence that carries MUCH wallop behind it!
--We were in an actual room by 6:30 p.m. Monday night, which is a record for us after surgery. Last time, it was 11 p.m. or so.
--Surprisingly, the chest tube came out Tuesday morning early.
--Felt rather good Tuesday morning, such that there was talk of releasing us Tuesday afternoon. Then the pain arrived as the anesthesia fully wore off...(see "cutting off part of that rib"...it only hurt pretty bad every time I breathed in or out, sat, lay down, stood up, or walked. Other than that, it wasn't so bad.
--The nurse agreed w/ us that we should stay the night, and I am *glad* we did! Wed. a.m. about 1:00 was ROUGH! Breathing was VERY shallow & VERY painful.
--But the HUGE good news is this got better once meds were adjusted. Two doses later, & I was like a new man. Able to both inhale and exhale, which are fairly important bodily functions...
--We rolled out Wed. afternoon around 2:00. Lisa had to drive all the way with me being basically in a pain-meds-induced DEEP sleep pretty much the whole way home. Got home around 11:30 (had to stop for me to walk more than usual...plus, there's another post-anesthesia bodily function that we pretty much don't want to do that was required a time or two...*sigh*)
--Steady improvement since! Yesterday afternoon, I spiked a bit of a fever, but some mileposts were passed & it went away to stay, Lord willing.

Right now: (Friday, 7/23, 9:00 a.m.)
Still have full bandages over the chest tube hole & the actual incision. Also, I still have an antibiotic pump attached that feeds to the incision. Hence, the actual pump is worn around my waist like a belt. B.B. King said it best: "The thrill is gone..." *smile*

We're confident of two things: (1) I'm decisively on the mend, and (2) this post-surgery mending process will be longer and much more painful than the previous two were. I'm GREATLY reducing expectations about what I'll be accomplishing in these next 3-4 weeks...*sigh*

Still & all, it is quite amazing that I have this good of a medical prognosis, given that just 2 years ago, I was a stage IV metastatic melanoma patient! I attribute this to the grace of our sovereign Lord working through some amazingly gifted doctors & nurses in response to the prayers of a lot of folks. The whole cancer journey is very humbling, but to me the most humbling part is knowing that so many are praying for Lisa & me specifically. This includes people that I've never met. I'm not a good enough writer to capture the emotions that brings out, so let me just say THANKS!

BTW, Lisa, James & Anne are all three being amazing at bringing me stuff & helping me get around & such. E.g., I can't even lift the tea jug out of the fridge, nor lift this laptop on to my lap!

Thanks so much for your prayers & friendship. They mean SO much to us.

In His Grip,
Mike

On what do you rest this trust of yours?

(Isaiah 36:4b)

(You better freshen up your coffee & get comfy...*smile*)

That was one of the verses preached this morning @ The Fellowship @ Cinco Ranch in Katy. (For info about the church we'd belong to if we lived anywhere near the area, click here: http://thefellowship.org/)

Our friend Donna invited us to join her there at her church. An awesome time on multiple levels, and most demonstrative of God's gracious providence as we get ready for round 3 of surgery tomorrow morning.

So, we drove over to meet Donna for church. VERY inviting facilities & spirit there! We walked into the Life Center (where they worship), and the band fires up "Let It Rise". Gently for the first chorus, and then *rocking*...I *loved* it! Like good worship leaders do, they transported me to the throne of glory right away.

Let the glory of the Lord, rise among us
Let the glory of the Lord, rise among us
Let the praises of the King rise among us
Let it rise

Let the songs of the Lord, rise among us
Let the songs of the Lord, rise among us
Let the joy of the King, rise among us
Let it rise

Oh - oh - oh, let it rise

And let me tell...the glory & the praises & the songs & the joy of the King rose among us this morning! Well, I don't suppose I can speak for all, but they rose among me...*smile*

The senior pastor wasn't there this morning. He's out of town. WAY out of town. In Indonesia, being a blessing to missionaries who are required to work deeply undercover in an area with hundreds of thousands of Muslims, and virtually no Christians.

So, for the first time in my 50+ years of church attendance, I heard a message by a guy wearing an Indy 500 pit crew shirt. You see, this guy missed church on the week of the 500. He & some other guys from the church were @ the Indy 500. Doing evangelism & ministry among the pit crews and race fans. They distributed several thousand pieces of literature about Christianity & did some very cool ministry things.

Anyway, the Fellowship is working through Isaiah this year. The whole book. For the whole year (series title: "Ancient Future...A Year in the Book of Isaiah"). Today, he spoke on "Who You Gonna Trust" from Isaiah 36. His message points were on "Sowing the Seeds of Doubt" introduced by "as surely as I'm preaching to you about faith in a crisis of belief, there's another who will also preach a different message to you in the crisis. Here's what he'll say..."

"God doesn't really care what you do"
"You are weak" (exposition: yes we are...that's why we need a strong Jesus! We're weak, Jesus isn't!)
"God is against you" (cross reference: Romans 8:38-39)
"Godly counsel is not all that it's cracked up to be"
"Ignore God's direction! Trust what feels right! Follow your heart!" (great quote: I'm convinced that every serial killer is following his heart...")
"God can't or God won't" (one of Satan's most preached messages)

Summary point: "God will take care of all of my needs in the best possible way, keeping in mind that He's preparing me for eternity"

Another summary point: "I give my children everything they need...which is very different from giving them everything they *want*...Sometimes I withhold what they want, and other times I make them have things they don't want. If I, an imperfect earthly father do that because I love them & am preparing them for life, how much more our perfect, omniscient, omnipotent heavenly Father?" (Matthew 7:9-11)

A perfect message for me today, as I look at surgery & recovery one more time. His last summary point came from a guy they heard @ the Indy 500 chapel service. The guy was describing being @ the Super Bowl a couple of years ago when the Colts were there. "It struck me...everybody in this stadium knows that Tony Dungy stands for Christ. I wonder how many people know this of me?"

We sang this song too:

The precious blood of Jesus Christ redeems; Forgiven I’m alive, restored set free.
Your majesty resides inside of me. Forever I believe; forever I believe.
Arrested by your truth and righteousness,
your grace has overwhelmed my brokenness
convicted by your spirit, led by your word
your love will never fail
your love will never fail
‘Cause I know you gave the world your only Son for us to
know your name, to live within the savior's love
And He took my place, knowing he’d be crucified and you loved.. you loved, a people undeserving!

I wasn't all that uptight about tomorrow's surgery, but I am *much* less so after this morning's worship service & message @ the Fellowship. This is FAR different from saying I know how it will turn out, mind you! John Piper said it well in a message we listened to on the way out here: "1. God does remarkable, amazing things on behalf of those who love Him...2. But He doesn't always..."

(Hebrews 11: 33-39; Piper's text for that message) "...who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received back their dead by resurrection.

(that's the cool part of this passage...now keep reading, and remember there is NO break between the part above and the part below.)

Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated—of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.

Note that those in the latter part of this passage are mentioned as "commended through their faith". And yet, they did NOT get the earthly answers they hoped for to their prayers. So, again, I haven't a clue as to how & how long this cancer course will run for me.

But I'm QUITE confident that Jehovah Shammah, the Lord Who is Present (one of my very favorite names of God in Scripture!) will show Himself to be just that tomorrow in the operating room, and more, in the waiting room as my bride sits yet again waiting for her name to be called to meet with my surgeon.

And I am--and she is!--quite "sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39)

That is my answer to Sennacherib's emmisary Rabshakeh's question for Judah in Isaiah 36 (see title of this entry above). The quantity of my faith? That only matters a little. The object of my faith? That matters GREATLY. Ultimately. Eternally. And He is present now and will be present tomorrow, and the day after, and next year, and a thousand years from now.

I'll wind you up w/ some lyrics I heard on the way to this Starbucks in which I sit:

"I Will Rise" - Chris Tomlin
There's a peace I've come to know, though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul; I can say "It is well"

Jesus has overcome, and the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won; He is risen from the dead

[Chorus:]
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise...I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near, when this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear and my faith shall be my eyes

Jesus has overcome, and the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won; He is risen from the dead

(repeat chorus)]

And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"

(repeat chorus)

THANK YOU so much for your prayers, my friends. We are so VERY humbled that so many are remembering us in prayer before the throne of our Lord. (I'm just glad none of the others sitting near me rt now know who the odd buy wiping tears is...*sheepish grin*) If you can keep praying just a bit more, we hope to soon be able to join you all as intercessory prayERS & not just as intercessory prayEES.

With a full, grateful heart that is trusting in a real God Who loves me & has redeemed me despite myself,
Mike

p.s. - Please remember Lisa in the waiting room. Mine is by FAR the easier of our roles tomorrow. I basically show up & get knocked out. She, on the other hand, has to wait for the door to open & to hear "Mrs. Madaris?"

p.p.s. - We also have TOTAL confidence in Dr. Mehran my surgeon, and in his team there @ MDA. I cannot imagine a better guy to entrust with my my rib cage!

Some Challenges for This Fall

Once more into the breach...(MDA & surgery sched for this week & next)

The scars have *almost* become invisible. Therefore, the only logical thing is to create another one...*sigh*

Back to MDA for yet another surgery--the last one, Lord willing! If you've been following my updates, you know there's this one spot of uncertain biology. (meaning, they don't know what it is) It's been there all along, since my 1st surgery in July 08, and is still there. Very small (1.3 cm) and very slow growing, if it's growing at all. But it does light up the P.E.T. scan, so...my medical guy there said he was not gonna be patient much longer, and the surgeon agreed when I saw him the next day.

Thus, this schedule:

Thurs. 7/15 - travel to Houston (in a *nice* ride, thanks to a generous friend!)
Friday 7/16 - pre-op mtg w/ anesthesia folks & w/ surgeon (no actual medical procedures today)
Sat./Sun.7/17 & 18 - eat lots of Tex-Mex & poke around Houston doing...well, whatever comes up on the calendar (in other words, chill massively this weekend!)
**Monday, 7/19** - surgery @ 0-dark-30 (my Surgeon likes to operate 1st thing, like @ 6:00 a.m....)

Probably a couple of days in hospital, & then home. We're predicting/hoping Wednesday. Dr. Mehran said a day or so; I'm thinking "or so" meaning out Wed.

He said I'd be good to go w/in a week in terms of activities. (Note to students in MBA 689: Lord willing, I *will* be in class Thursday, 7/22, although I'll have to be chauffer-driving down by one of the Madarians. Not supposed to drive for a week...which raises the question of who's gonna haul me down to The Depot for my fix of coffee & a muffin there? *laughing*)

A couple of notes:

--Pray for Lisa! She'll have to drive all the way back fr Houston w/ no help from me. My job will be, in the great words of my friend Jason to his spouse once upon a time, to "sit there & look pretty." (unfortunately, whereas Jason's spouse and mine can do this, I'm...much less equipped, let's say. *grin*)

--Quoting the surgeon, "whatever this spot is, it will be gone!" *loud raucous applause & whistles & vuvuzela noises...and that's just Lisa & me!*

--The spot's on my chest wall. More precisely, it's on my rib, which means he'll cut out a piece of rib. (Supply your own punchline here) Sounds painful to me, but what do I know? *sigh* On the *huge* plus side, it's not down in my lung like the other spots were; thus, it should be an easier procedure (acc. to Dr. Mehran) Basically, I'm hoping no chest tube this time, as having several feet of plastic tubing pulled thru one's chest wall on checkout isn't as much fun as it sounds...

--I *HATE* the effects of anesthesia on me! W/o doing into *too* much detail, one of the effects is that it only matters a very little what I order for bkfst the next day (let's just say, & leave it there)...Plus, my conversational skills will be *seriously* limited on the way back from Houston. Informed sources (Lisa) suggest that I'll go from lively, cogent conversation to deep sleep and back in a matter of seconds. I am about as un-pumped about the anesthesia as about the surgery itself.

The *strong* hope/prayer is that this leads to years of boring, un-lit, "nothing-to-see-here" P.E.T. scans after this surgery! Again, quoting the surgeon: "You have a very good biology of your disease" which means this could well be my last cancer-related surgical event for a while at least (well, other than the regular scans & sticks...). Which would be AWESOME!!

If you are a praying type, we welcome and GREATLY APPRECIATE your prayers!

My Bible reading took me to Isaiah 12 this morning:

You will say in that day:
“I will give thanks to you, O Lord,
for though you were angry with me,
your anger turned away,
that you might comfort me.

2 “Behold, God is my salvation;
I will trust, and will not be afraid;
for the Lord God is my strength and my song,
and he has become my salvation.”

3 With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. 4 And you will say in that day:

“Give thanks to the Lord,
call upon his name,
make known his deeds among the peoples,
proclaim that his name is exalted.

5 “Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously;
let this be made known in all the earth.
6 Shout, and sing for joy, O inhabitant of Zion,
for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.”

Yeah...those verses work pretty well at capturing my soul this week...

Thanks SO much for your thoughts & prayers, my friends! I'll keep you posted as best I'm able.

Drawing deeply from the well of His salvation & hoping His greatness in our midst shines forth in me,
Mike

2 years.

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.
Psalm 116:15

Although the death of beloved saints is often most-decidedly NOT precious in our sight...

I'm not a poet. But I definitely agree w/ John Piper who said (paraphrase) "there are some emotions so deep in the soul that they can only be captured with poetry." As best I can recall, what is re-posted below is one of two poems I've ever written. (The other one was a couple of years back when another friend died; in an ironic coincidence, my two friends are buried right near each other, just a few steps apart). If you've been reading this blog for over year, you've seen this before. Started it two years ago from a room at M.D. Anderson's ICU (where I was "enjoying" my first cycle of immunotherapy) when I heard that the time of Jason Weathers' departure was at hand; finished it the next day--July 12--when I heard his faith had become sight.

Jason's wife Stephanie had her Dad read this at Jason's funeral. I will likely never receive a higher honor this side of glory. (We did make it back for his funeral, btw) As I looked at Jason's lifeless body @ the funeral, I was struck with a couple of thoughts. First, the needed reminder that in the words of a friend, we're all living in rented apartment space that's steadily wearing out such that one day, we will be leaving our temporary living quarters. Second, "death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory? Thanks be to God, Who gives us the victory" and "He is not here, but he is risen..." It is that second one that I have seen on display in the amazing faith of Jason's beloved Stephanie these last couple of years. She has been such a wonderful encourager to Lisa & me in our own cancer journey. And to so very many others as well. Just yesterday, we were laughing about how some of Jason's musical tastes overlap with my own, but most assuredly NOT with Stephanie's...

Two years after his homegoing, I agree all the more with these sentiments captured when I heard of Jason's passing. And I still miss him hard! Next to me right now is the collection of CDs Jason had in his car. In another great honor, Steph has allowed me to roam through the collection. I've spent yesterday and early this morning smiling, chuckling, and remembering my buddy through the widely-varied music he loved. And treasuring many a conversation that started out "Mike, have you ever listened to ______? I think you'd like them...Stephanie does NOT like them at all..." *grin* And yet, as I've been looking through his music, there are multiple CDs that I picture him reaching for when Steph rode with him somewhere. I 'spect they were in his collection for that very purpose. Yesterday at church as I was in the booth being the powerpoint guy, I was reminded once again that I starting doing that as a way to hang out w/ Jason; thus, I think of him every Sunday morning when I take my seat behind the computer.

Don't read this for the literary value of the poem, for you'll surely be disappointed. Rather, read for the depth of the emotions I'm trying to capture. This comes close, but doesn't fully capture what I felt this time two years ago. And last year at this time...and this year at this time...

As was the case two years ago, I do not focus on how he died. I choose to focus instead on how he lived.

Please pray today for Jason's beloved Stephanie and for his treasured children Anna Lea, Jon Brent, and Ally.

Giants
Mike Madaris, 7/12/08, on the coronation of my buddy Jason Weathers

Giants still walk the land occasionally.
I know this, because I knew one.
Physically strong and imposing
But that’s not the topic here,
For, he was not fearsome
Unless you lined up opposite him
On a football field
Or tried to throw him into a pool against his will.
Those aside, He got along with everybody.
Literally, everybody, as far as I knew.
Calm of demeanor, yet loved to laugh.
Quiet in personality, yet loved hard rock.
Intelligent, but not desiring to flaunt that.
Private, yet the son of a very public man
And later, married into another very public family.
In the midst of all, he was a giant.

The courtship. She was the only one.
They met when her Dad took a job at the giant’s church.
And his Dad’s. And his Granddad’s.
The realizing came quickly to most.
These two were a match.
They realized it too.
The courtship lasted until they finished college.
And he remained a giant.
Always loving, yet always honoring.
Serving. Cherishing. As it was intended to be.
Both of them Role models. Giants.
Who else marries a giant, but another giant after all?

10 years of marriage. A move to FL.
3 children deeply treasured.
One looks like her mother, yet like Dad in temperament.
One looks like his Dad, yet tempered like his mother.
And one too young to answer these questions
Though she surely looks like her Dad.
Each nurtured. Treasured. Celebrated.
Giants are like that about their offspring.

A servant’s heart.
Toward his lady. Toward his children.
Toward his friends. Toward his Lord.
Church service involved the out of the way
The behind the scenes
The un-glamorous
The invisible.
Sometimes giants stay in the background.
Perhaps that is why so few of us believe in them any more.

The servant heart spilled over into career choice.
Especially poignant to me this week
As I have been greatly served and blessed by multiple nurses
As a patient, the best in that field are wired as servants.
Others-centered. Paycheck almost incidental.
Towering over the rest of us.
Giants.

The dreadful disease with the nasty prognosis
The treatment nearly as nasty
Uncertainty. Doubt. Fear.
In this case, for others more than self
Beloved wife and treasured children.
Parents. Parents-in-law. Brother. Brother-in-law.
Not wanting to burden others with the battle he fought so well.
The larger men among us worry about us like that.

7 months of desperate fighting.
Interspersed with time spent with family and with lesser mortals.
Like me. At Starbucks. Still dreaming of an earthly future that would never be.
Then the end; rather, the beginning.
What, after all, is a last, horrendous week against 30+ years of a towering-above life?
Faith became sight.
Death & disease forever vanquished.
Ultimate Healing. No more illness, no more treatment, no more pain.
“Well Done, good and faithful servant.” The stuff of dreams.
Thankfully, not of legends.
Hopes and dreams realized.
Sin not only defeated, but now utterly removed.
As has been sung, "I can only imagine." He need not imagine any more.
This makes me smile through tears.
Victory won. Decisively. Forever.
It is well…it is well with his soul.
In that land, there are only giants. Now one more.
And this land seems all the more empty.

Rock on, Jason. See you there in the land of the eternal hello, where leukemia & melanoma are seen only through the eyes of grace-filled providence...and only then understood fully. You are still loved much and missed hard by many of us, Bro. Looking forward to that next cup of coffee & to you showing me around!
Mike

Voices on the Wind

Class of 77

(I wrote the initial version of this in 2007 rt before our 30th class reunion. This weekend, there will be a gathering back home of several dozen of us. So, I dusted off the 07 version & updated it ever so slightly. Enjoy! Or something...*smile*...Mike)

The Class of 77. (30 years later…)
Mike Madaris

We graduated during a time of some national confusion. Watergate was still working itself out. The Viet Nam war had ended, but the scars were only beginning to heal. The presidency was in a state of disgrace; President Ford’s presidency in escrow had just ended, and Jimmy Carter’s optimistic-but-deeply-flawed presidency was beginning.

Musically, we were torn between the radical protest music of the 60s, the softer music of the 70s, the continuation of the hard rock movement, and the arrival of disco. Those of us into jazz were confused by what Miles Davis had become and were electrified by Al DiMeola and Chick Corea.

Socially, drinking and other things happened, but they were still ever-so-somewhat taboo. We had graduated from fairly strict dress code enforcement during junior high to fairly loose standards in high school. Our yearbook photos provide evidence of this…

During our school days, we had witnessed a man landing safely on the moon and returning--an early 60s president’s challenge fulfilled. We saw the escalation…the massive escalation…of the Viet Nam war. Dads and brothers shipped out and fought. Some didn’t come back. We also saw the end of the war and the suspension of the draft. We saw integration, though it was not much of an issue in NW Florida. We saw political murder multiple times. We saw the launch of the political careers of a lawyer named Hillary Rodham and a Viet Nam veteran named John Kerry, though none of us knew then the roles they would play years later. We saw Viet Nam fall, and helped in various ways with the massive influx of refugees. Some of us even played patriotic tunes out at the relocation camp at Eglin AFB.

Ours was a huge class. There were well over 600 of us. We were musicians, artists, athletes, surfers, scholars, and regular folks. We were hippies, preppies, burnouts, and fishheads. We loved Mrs. “Mama Jo” Yeager and Mrs. Almond, we respected Mr. Jones, we laughed with (or was it “at”?) Mr. Kelleher, and we disliked a few too. We guys grew our hair long, thinking that made us cool. The girls wore dresses short & tight, thinking the same thing.

We went to football games, basketball games, baseball games, and the occasional track meet. We hated Vikings—the cross-town rival, not the ancient warriors. We went skiing, we went to the beach, we went to Victor’s and the Hog’s Breath, though we lied to our parents about those last two. Of course, we went to prom and to post-game dances. We fell into love and back out of love. Largely, we had no clue what love was. But we sure thought we did.

And then we graduated. Some went to college at Florida, some at Florida State. Some went out of state to various places. Some of us got scholarships; others of us didn’t.

Some took jobs and began their work life earlier. Some went into the military. We got married, we had children, we gained weight, we lost hair. Some moved away after college or due to work. Others stayed. Many of us who moved away wish we had stayed put. Or could come back.

Regardless of the bends in these past 30+ years’ roads, we remain somehow connected by time spent at a place called Choctawhatchee High School. For good or bad—mostly good in my case—we remain influenced and impacted by teachers, administrators, friends, and others we encountered there.

When I left high school, I arrogantly said I’d never come back. That lasted until the following Fall, when I ventured home & went to the stadium for a football game. The oh-so-familiar drum cadence began, and the buzz of anticipation raced through the crowd. I still love that anticipation and excitement, even after my own son’s playing days on another football field have come to an end. Just a few years ago, I once again marched with my brother and his son in an alumni Style Marchers band. And loved it. I still love to watch live jazz; partly just for the music, and partly because it reminds me of my days of trying—unsuccessfully—to master to art while in the Modern Jazz Ensemble at CHS.

We remember those who are now absent...teachers, parents, and classmates. They are missed, and their value and impact is somehow magnified as life progresses. At least part of who we are is traceable to them.

So, now we gather again. 33 years...not one of the "official" years for a reunion, but we have always done things that might not have been officially sanctioned...*grin* 33 years ago, we thought that people our age were desperately old and hopelessly out of touch. (Indeed, I am now older than my Dad ever became, which is a mind-boggling reality to grasp.) Now, we realize that having been out of HS for 33 years does not equal “old.” Well, not real old...

Oh, sure, the waistline has expanded, and the hairline is now receding in multiple directions, and “40 time” is now related to how many traffic lights my car must stop for rather than how fast we run. And, yeah, there are pills to take that help with “old people” things like cholesterol and blood pressure. And the days of baking in the sun on purpose throughout the day are a distant memory, buried somewhere on the other side of sun-related cancer surgeries & treatments in my case. And our music is now played on “classic” stations, or, worse, in elevators and dentist offices. Wierdly, though, it also shows up on our children’s IPODs too. Which is at once comforting and unsettling.

But somewhere in the midst of this life I lead is a smallish, uncertain guy with horrible-looking long hair who never imagined being this, um, “vintage.” Who still remembers the difference between 8-to-5 and 6-to-5 marching…who still remembers the formula for “Cosine of a Sum” thanks to Mrs. Almond’s “songs” in class…and who still remembers some of the words to the CHS alma mater…who still remembers giving speeches in Mrs. Yeager’s class, and being amazed to discover that he actually enjoys being in front of a group!…who still remembers the opening tenor sax part to Glenn Miller's "In the Mood"...and who still lets his freak flag fly in between mortgage payments, college tuition, Dr. visits, career moves, and that sort of thing.

Emerson, Lake, & Palmer said it best back in our day all those years ago: “Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends!”

It’s class mini-reunion time! I can’t wait. See y'all Saturday night!

Battles

"I often dream of nights I'd sit, and watch the rising sun..."

Maybe it's just me, but I doubt it.

There are songs that are utterly autobiographical. Sometimes this is true in the case of the songwriter, like, say, former slave trader John Newton's incredible hymn "Amazing Grace."

And then sometimes a song written by somebody else is autobiographical for a listener. Maybe because it connects during a particular season of life. For example, I first discovered the great song "Be Unto Your Name" that we sing at church in the summer of 2008 while I was eyeball deep in my cancer surgeries & IL-2 treatments. Thus, two years later, I've almost reached the point where I can sing the second verse without falling apart ("we are the broken, you are the healer..."). Almost, I say. *smile*

"And I spoke to you of life, and of the battles I had won..."

Recently, I was cleaning off a hard drive on our ancient, nearly-obsolete, seldom-used laptop. This particular hard drive contained data dumps from other totally-obsolete computers from a few years back. Earlier today, I was sorting through files found there and happened upon one of my all-time favorite songs in the form of an mp3 file. I had forgotten that I had recorded this years back. What a treasure!

"A warm wind blowing memories makes me long for home..."

This particular song is just over 30 years old now. Late 70s. Gainesville, FL. If you know my story, you might recall that this was not a particularly, um, successful season of life for me. Flunking out of college...Still VERY angry at God & at life because of my Dad's death just a few years earlier...Most uncertain about the ultimate things (like many 19-year-olds of course, but I took it to a whole new level)...No real life vision or direction...

"But a cold wind blows much harder, and makes me wanna roam; let me go from this lonely land before my dreams all vanish like water in the sand. Let me run from this lonely place before my dreams are shattered by love I can't erase..."

And yet, there in the midst of the darkest season of my life in so many ways, I made some great friends. A number of whom are still great friends today, all these long years later. Some of the guys were facing their own struggles, but by the common grace of God we endured. And eventually triumphed in various directions. I'm actually getting together w/ a couple of these guys over the 4th in FWB, and am very much looking forward to it.

"I search to find the meaning of the path that I am on, and I hope that my direction will not make me walk alone..."

A bunch of us used to go watch & listen to this smokin' hard rock band called "Axe." Five guys kicking out some great jams. We saw them many times. So many times that this afternoon I was picturing their exact stage setup; where they keyboards were, how Edgar's mike was always high up so that he had to raise his head & look up in order to sing; Bobby's tough-guy look & sneer as he sang & played guitar...

"I stumble for the answers to the questions that remain..."

Axe went on to some modest success. Recorded a few albums. Opened for some big-name bands in the early 80s. They recorded a superb very hard-rock version of the old Motown tune "Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch" that was just amazing live. One of the crowd favorites was "Rock & Roll Party in the Streets" which will be my motivational music tomorrow morning as I prepare to take the hill in my exercise program.

"Around the world, I've touched the sun; now I'm back again..."

But the words you've been reading are from their incredible anthem "Battles." If I had a dollar for every time I fired this up back in the late 70s & early 80s, I'd be a wealthy man. As cheesy & corny as it sounds to admit, this song & its lyrics pulled me through a bunch of dark times and gave me hope that there would be a future for me that was brighter. For that, I will always be thankful to the guys in Axe.

Plus, Bobby's guitar solo at the end of "Battles" is just awesome...*smile*

Thanks for the shows & the songs & the memories, guys. And thanks for hope.

Rock on,
bb

p.s. - here's the song in its original version. The video is just one image, so don't focus on watching. Instead, just picture this kid with long hair and very few clues jamming out to this through some evenings...sometimes jamming with a tear or two in his eye. And enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8FUN3dE3uw&feature=related

(p.p.s. - There actually is a band touring now as "Axe." But based on video footage, they're not even close to the quality of the original lineup. Just so you know...)

Mollie

(Seems I was just writing a very similar post not that long ago...*sigh*)

Rough day yesterday @ Casa beachbum. (As of the initial writing of this) I'm just in & cleaned up from gravedigging duties in the back yard. Our next-door neighbor's pit bull killed Mollie, our small cat, this morning around 8:30. (Aside: I honestly think the dog was "playing" with Mollie...but it went horribly awry...)

So, once again--and for the final time--we are mourning the loss of an awesome cat.

Mollie was about 16 or so. All black, still w/ a bit of a sassy personality. She was very small; still looked & acted like a little kitten. She was mostly an inside cat, but ventured out now & then. Once too often, as it turns out...

Mollie came to us suddenly. 16 years ago, Lisa & I were teaching college Sunday School @ our church. Thus the phone call one night from a young lady in our group. "Hey, do y'all know anybody who wants a kitten? A guy gave me one, and my roommate is deathly allergic to them" She became cat #2 around here. (Cat #1 was Maggie, who died last year in a much more humane manner...)

I'm a dog guy. But I sure did love my two cats! I'm persuaded God made two great cats in all of creation. Both of them lived here and mightily blessed our lives, even while bossing us around like cats do. *smile* And I apologize to all of you cat people for being forced to tolerate lesser cats than our two awesome ones...*another smile*

Mollie loved to rest on top of someone, especially Lisa. She had this loud & awesome purr that made us refer to her as "crackling cat."

She also *loved* a box to climb into. Just recently, Lisa brought a long & skinny box home. Mollie *loved* it!

She also *dearly* loved this soft white rug we have. She would come knead it for a while & then go to sleep, crackling the whole time.

She became something of a co-belligerent with Maggie in the quest to keep Sam the dog under control. And eventually, after he was slapped upside the head (by Mollie!) several thousand times, Sam developed a sort of detante with Mollie. In fact, an oddly-treasured memory is one that happened several times over the last 16 years. Mollie--being a cat--came & went on her own terms, and thus would occasionally stay outside at night (her choice, of course). In the wee hours of some of those nights, we'd hear a ruckus of squealing & squalling, at which point Sam would go tearing out the door to protect his cat from bigger Tom cats or from whatever the pest was. Presently, Mollie would come strolling back in, followed a minute or two later by Sam. (Sam also did this with Maggie...Sam's a sweet dog!)

My morning routine has been to start the coffee while listening to Mollie telling me most insistently that the coffee could wait while I fed her. I missed getting fussed at this morning, and will miss it from now on. Another part of the morning routine was to give Sam & Beau (James' dog) a taste of catfood after feeding Mollie. They were a tad bit confused this morning; I'm more than a tad bit sad about that routine change...

Both of my children loved Mollie. James played with Mollie & got her to do things none of the rest of us could (or would!). Anne & Mollie were sleeping buddies. Anne said yesterday, "I can't even remember when Mollie wasn't around..."

(Yep...she laid on his head quite patiently, such that I have several shots of this from this past Christmas)

As I said, a tough day.

After considerable prayer, I knocked on the door at the dog's house yesterday. Introduced myself to the guy (he's new here), and told him about Mollie & his pit bull. He was very upset & apologetic, and said he'd get rid of the dog. It actually was a blessed conversation with a pretty good guy whose dog did a terrible thing. My pulse was probably 190, but I didn't feel anger (by the grace of God!), and he responded gracefully. In fact, within about a half-hour, the dog was in the back seat of the guy's truck, moving to a new home out in the country. This is a *much* better solution than my first instinct this morning, which involved a shotgun...God graciously calmed me down, and then providentially had me teaching on guarding the heart in Hebrews 3 & 4, followed by my pastor preaching an *awesome* message on persevering under trial from James 1. All within a couple of hours of the awful incident.

I'm a dog guy. And I try hard to be a good neighbor, and will continue to be so with the folks next door. But I was not, am not, and will not ever be a pit bull fan. (Pit Bull fans, don't even bother! Enjoy your animals, as is your right. And keep them the heck away from me and mine. Lisa & I have mental images now that will haunt us for some time, all because of a pit bull that had a rather sweet & pleasant disposition. That's all I have to say about that)

So, there are four people living here who are grieving a much-loved cat. She probably didn't have many more years left, but this is most assuredly NOT the end we had in mind.

We're fine, and will be more so. But we still miss our cat very badly...

I'm a dog guy...who is VERY sad about his cat's passing...

RIP, Mollie!

bb

Approximate Sched for Mike for 5/17 @ MDA

7:30 - venture out into the *incredible* Houston rush-hour traffic
7:35 - vow to never gripe about Hardy St. traffic ever again; repeat this vow every 3.5 minutes until parked @ M.D. Anderson Cancer Center
8:30 - bloodwork (my personal record is 11 vials in one sitting...)
9:30 - P.E.T. Scan Prep
(basically, inserting an IV into my arm, pushing some nuclear waste through the IV, and making me take a 1-hour nap...really, they do make me nap! I'm OK with it though)
11:00 - P.E.T. scan (about 30 min in a tube where I'm velcroed on to the table...and yes, they really do velcro me on there...I usually add another nap, figuring (a) I have to be still, and (b) it's always quite cool in the P.E.T. scan room...)
12:00 - drink a gallon of long-overdue coffee & eat bad cafeteria food (OK, this is not on my official M.D. Anderson schedule for the day...but since I can't eat or drink anything until after the P.E.T. scan, it's on my *personal* schedule...*huge grin*)
1:00 - go whine @ brain MRI people in hopes that they'll move mine from 5:00 to, well, now. Repeat until they reschedule my MRI, or until 4:30, whichever comes first.
4:30 - Prep for Brain MRI
5:00 - Brain MRI (stick your head into a metal bucket & have someone periodically bang on it with a hammer...that's pretty close to what this is like. Luckily, I have mad napping skills, so...)
6:00 - venture back into the Houston rush-hour traffic
6:05 - vow to never again gripe about traffic on Helveston, near WCU
6:10 - be oh-so-thankful that my morning & evening "rush-hour" commute is about 25 minutes long
Sometime after that: commit serious gluttony @ a great Tex-Mex place with Lisa, aided by two HS classmates + the son of one of them (again, not on my official MDA schedule...)

Seriously, it'll be a full, busy day. Your prayers for accurate and clear test results are most appreciated, if you're a praying type.

Thanks much!
Mike

The Looming Sword

I used to wonder what it was like for folks who had to face regular visits to cancer doctors and, well, M.D. Anderson, and such places.

I don't wonder any more. It feels a lot like the life Damocles lived when he swapped places with Dionysius in the ancient legend. The legendary/mythical "sword of Damocles" always hung over his head, suspended by a thin thread, symbolizing the ever-present threat Dionysius felt.

Now, the "sword of Damocles" analogy fails, because (a) I've not swapped lives with anyone, and (b) I'm *definitely* not in a position of power.

Those caveats aside, having a sword of destruction hanging over one's head suspended by a narrow thread is pretty much how it feels to be a melanoma survivor. (Related aside: that's also why you, insert your name here, should wear sunscreen!)

Oh, I don't live in fear, for my God is on His throne, and He was not surprised in Nov. 2005 when my cancer first appeared, nor was he surprised in May 2008 when it showed up again in both lungs.

And He will not be surprised by whatever next week's followup scans @ M.D. Anderson show.

Thus, most of the time, God graciously doesn't let me linger on cancer & on the likelihood of melanoma returning.

But as the return journey looms, the sword looms also.

We head back out to Houston Sunday afternoon.

Here's the schedule of all of the "fun":

Monday - bloodwork & P.E.T. scan & brain MRI
(stick your head & chest inside a small metal bucket & have someone bang on the bucket repeatedly with a hammer; that's pretty close to what a brain MRI is like...*grin*)
Tuesday - appt with Dr. Homsi (my main medical Dr. there)
Wed. - appt. with Dr. Mehran (my surgeon)


I'd call it 50-50 that I have another surgery this time. There's the one spot near my ribs on the wall of my chest near one of the previous surgery entry points. Not a new spot; been there all along. Last time we were out there, the P.E.T. scan showed that the spot had grown just a bit (although it's still very small). Hence the surgical consult this time.

I don't really mind surgery, but I *hate* the recovery time. Plus, anesthesia messes me up for the next couple of days after. Plus, it'd be groovy if we were rolling back home Wed. evening having been told "nothing to see here..."

So, the sword becomes visible again as I'm reminded of my medical history...which reminds me how gloriously dependent & *not* in charge I really am. And which drives me to prayer. And to ask for the prayers of others. And to be mindful that a day is coming for me (and a place) in which there will be no more cancer, no more need for surgery, no more recovery needed...I can't wait, though I do not seek to get there any time soon!

If you're a praying type, your prayers are *most* welcome, needed, and appreciated.

In His Grip,
Mike

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us...And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience...
Romans 8:18, 23-25

I love college graduations...especially this one...

In May, 1983, I walked across a stage at the University of Alabama and received a degree & a handshake from the president of the University. In my case, it took 6 years and 3 different schools to get there, but that’s another story for another day.

A few years later, I received a M.A. degree. Then, in 1990, I received a Ph.D., which could well have been viewed as that year’s sign of the imminent return of our Lord.

Since then, I have attended numerous college graduations, and I actually love the ceremony. As a professor I get to don the robes & the hat and be part of the platform party w/ my colleagues. I dig the significance of the ceremony, the motivation of the speakers’ remarks (well, most of them…), and the general pomp & circumstance of it all.

But the coolest part to me is afterward, when I get to shake hands w/ my students who have just walked across the stage & received a degree. I *LOVE* this part of the day! “Mom, this is Dr. Madaris” etc. Utterly awesome, in the real sense of the word “awesome.”

And yet, in all of my goober-ish enjoyment of graduation, and all of the excitement of the new graduates, there’s a decided bittersweet feel. I really love my job, in large part because I really love college students. (well, most of them…) I like to think that over the course of battling with duration, net present value, market efficiency, supply & demand, futures contracts, gap, CAMEL ratings, and other goodies one covers in various econ & finance classes, at least some of those students become friends. Which means that graduation = saying goodbye to friends who are (mostly) moving away. I do NOT enjoy that part of graduation day. Even with the excitement of the day and of students/friends moving into career type jobs, I’m not very good at saying “goodbye.” I totally agree with C.S. Lewis, who said (paraphrased) “the reason saying goodbye is so hard is because we were never meant to do so.” One of my favorite descriptions of heaven is this: the land of the eternal hello. I can’t wait.

Well, all of that was background so that I could say this…Lisa, Anne & I won’t be at Temple Baptist Church this Sunday morning, and I won’t be eating my usual dose of catfish Friday @ WCU. We’ll be heading north to Oxford, MS, along with my Mom & her husband Leo. We’re attending a baseball game Friday night featuring the two teams that are tied for first in the SEC Western division, but that’s just the lagniappe. The real purpose of our trip happens Saturday on campus at the University of Mississippi.

James Madaris, my son, in whom I am VERY well-pleased, graduates from the School of Pharmacy with a Bachelor of Pharmaceutical Sciences degree.

At the risk of pride, there is no chance that I could ever get admitted to the Ole Miss School of Pharmacy, let alone get an actual degree from there. (I know a number of things, zero of which have to do with the natural sciences…)

I remember telling James during Christmas Break of his freshman year that this weekend would arrive with amazing speed. And so it has. What I under-estimated, was the speed at which it would arrive FOR ME.

Seems just a few weeks ago that James was dressing as our then-pediatrician Dr. Kent (who is one of my life mentors…), and playing teeball, and feeding the ducks with his Mother, and going to the zoo, and moving over to this new school setting called “PCS,” and learning how to strap on football pads, and helping me set up the tent for family camping trips…and going to prom, and laughing with me as we listened to the local rock radio station’s commercial while in MY car: “Not your father’s radio station…unless you have a really cool Dad…” And becoming a rather good all-district tackle, and graduating from high school, and getting accepted to the University of Mississippi School of Pharmacy’s Early-Entry program (which rejected something like 80% of those who applied that year), and moving into the dorm and commencing life as a UM student…

In case you’re wondering, Ole Miss has been an ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE experience for James. Regardless of your football team leanings, hear me say this—me, a lifelong Bama fan and three-time Bama grad: I find it very difficult to even imagine a better college experience than James has had at Ole Miss.

Pharmacy School has challenged the stew out of him, and he is a better man because of facing and overcoming those challenges…he has grown spiritually there…he has made some (I predict) lifelong friends who are the kind of friends parents want their kids to have…he has totally dug games from the student section at Vaught-Hemingway stadium (along with the last two Cotton Bowls), and in the ancient basketball arena, and @ the baseball stadium…he has lived on campus, near campus, and a ways away from campus…he—like his parents—has come to *really* love Oxford…all while becoming a man and being well on his way to an excellent career of serving others, which career path was decided on during high school.

I had a whole thing here about the visceral hatred many in our state have toward Ole Miss, but deleted it. Instead, let me just say this: James is NOT wealthy, he’s NOT particularly a partier, he’s NOT in a fraternity, and neither of his parents went to Ole Miss…and he dearly loves the university and the Rebel sports teams. Plus, his degree will come from one of the top pharmacy programs IN THE COUNTRY.

Why didn’t he go to Bama? Two reasons, out-of-state tuition (a surmountable challenge), but mostly because of the insurmountable fact that Bama doesn’t have a pharmacy program at all, let alone a top 10-20 program!

I couldn’t be happier with his school and career choice!

Note: James & I cheer for each other’s football teams to win almost all of their games every year…*another smile*

For those unfamiliar with pharmacy programs, James still has two more years to go. Next year, he’ll move to Jackson for the dreaded P-5 year of clinical at the Medical School. The following year will be a bunch of 5-week rotations. And then we’ll re-convene for another Ole Miss graduation, at which (Lord willing) he’ll receive a Doctorate of Pharmacy (Pharm.D.). And then off to practice his craft & begin his career.

As both of my regular readers will know, (*smile*) I dearly love my son and am very proud of his achievements and of who he has become. Hence, I’ll tell you when I decided he was going to make it to this point. 2nd semester, freshman year. A phone call, just to chat (which, just as an aside, is one of the GREAT blessings of my life…that my son sometimes calls for no particular reason). Here’s the paraphrase of part of the conversation: “Dad, don’t be offended, but I wish I could major in business…those guys have it so easy! They go to class, study about 10 minutes & then play the rest of the time. And frequently, they don’t even go to class!” I asked if he wanted to change majors. “No, I don’t; I really want to be a pharmacist!” I suggested that skipping class is not a good plan, even for business majors (remember, I’m a business school professor), but especially for early-entry pre-pharmacy students. His response: “Oh, don’t worry, Dad…I can’t afford to miss class, so I don’t!”

That’s when I knew he’d get to this Saturday.

That confidence has been confirmed through many chats & report cards & honors & such, but I’ll spare you.

So, this Saturday, I’ll don my suit—purchased this week for this very occasion—and head to Oxford with great pride and thanksgiving that God has granted me the amazing privilege of being James Madaris’ Dad, and watch him shake hands with school administrators & receive a degree that just boggles my mind to ponder.

And Friday and Sunday, we’ll watch the Rebels take on the Arkansas Razorbacks in what has shaped up to be a baseball clash of two powerhouse teams. Me? You bet! I’ll be wearing my Ole Miss hat & shirt, and hooting & hollering right there alongside this MAN who looks a bit like me…albeit a bigger, stronger, smarter, better-looking version of me. A *MAN* who, for Friday’s game, will be an Ole Miss undergraduate student, and for Sunday’s game, will be an Ole Miss ALUMNUS.

I have so many more thoughts about this event, but I'll just close with this, in loving honor of my son, and without any hint of apology.

HOTTY TODDY!

Love you buddy!
Dad

p.s. – I doubt I’ll shed any tears this weekend. Except maybe on Friday. And of course, Saturday at graduation. Oh, and Sunday when we roll out of Oxford… *smile*