Does Anybody Remember Wonder?

While waiting to board my plane in Houston to fly home, I grabbed this photo, which sparked this entry.  Note first the two little kids farther away against the window to the right of the pole:  They were unabashedly amazed at the plane, the guy driving the luggage cart, everything out there.  Now notice the older kid close to me:  He's a bit more cool, because it's no longer cool to be wide-eyed in wonder at his ripe old age of, what, 10?  But he was still a bit excited, albeit in a subdued way.

I totally understand the eagerness to grow up & appear unphased about anything.  It's what happens between his age and, say, mine that concerns me.

In the live version of Led Zeppelin's anthem "Stairway to Heaven" there's a point when Robert Plant chimes in with a plaintive cry, "Does anyone remember laughter??"  If you know that version, picturing me in my best Robert Plant delivery, and here's my question in this blurb: "Does anyone remember wonder??"

Something happens along the way as we grow older that steadily & systematically removes wonder from our normal range of emotions.  We make life coldly rational & academic & intellectual, in the process killing off a healthy sense of wonder.  (Reminder: 1) I am a professor who teaches a fairly coldly rational subject--finance; 2) Apart from that, my own default approach to life & its happenings is rational & academic.)

This killing of wonder is to our great detriment, in my opinion. 

In the preface to The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe, which introduces us to Narnia & Aslan the Lion & the white witch & an amazing world, C.S. Lewis wrote to this the young lady he wrote the stories for initially: "I suppose by the time I finish writing this, you'll be too old to read fairy tales any more.  One day, though, you'll be old enough to read fairy tales again, and then you can read this and tell me what you think." (paraphrased)

So, the question: when do we grow old enough to read fairy tales again?  When do we laugh with fauns & listen to beavers?  When do we again become amazed that a hunk of metal can fly through the air with a bunch of people inside & come down far away at the location of the pilot's choosing?  When do we again marvel at a sunset's beauty?  Or the wonder of a night sky filled with stars?  When do we stop & ponder the wag of a dog's tail & just smile?  When are we allowed to be blown away by the absolute silence of a bike ride in the woods? When can we just stare in open-mouthed amazement at the USM Jazz Band as they perform?  When do crepe myrtles blooming get to take our breath away again?  When do we start again being absolutely astounded that s/he loves us just like we are?  Or for that matter, jaw-droppingly astounded that love exists in the first place?

Consider these words:  awesome...wonderful.  Those words, like most words in our wonder-starved existence, have become cheapened.  We apply them to pizza on a buffett, for crying out loud!

If the whole idea of "wonder" bothers your coldly rational self, I have a scary thought & a challenge for you.  The scary thought: Heaven won't be enjoyable for you!  The challenge: go read passages like Isaiah 6 & Revelation 19-21 & other Bible passages about heaven.  Heaven will be a place of eternal awesome glorious wonder & amazement!

Perhaps our loss of wonder is why we short sell the Gospel if we regard it at all.  The Gospel is not a self-help program whereby Jesus is our super-cool friend who helps get us over the bumps life throws at us, while winking at our shortcomings.  Nor is the Gospel a political agenda (If you think one has to vote a certain way in order to be a Christian, there's quite a bit of the Book you need to re-read, and quite a number of people you need to meet!  But that's another topic for another day...). 

No, the Gospel as proclaimed in Scripture is that we were created in the image of & to have a close relationship with an all-knowing, all-powerful, absolutely holy & righteous & just God, Who knows every thought we ever will have & ever action we ever will take.  Sin separates us from that close relationship.  And He is justly offended by our sin nature & our sinful actions...but amazingly He is also totally loving of us just like we are, in all the muck & mire of our humanity & sins.  His justice & righteous & holiness require atonement to be made.  Note: God would be absolutely just if there were NO WAY to re-connect with Him & experience forgiveness; the reality that there's one way is infinitely more than we deserve.  There's a good starting point for wonder...A totally just God Who is also totally loving.  (Aside: Imagine a universe in which God were not just...*shudder*)  Thus, the part that's so amazing that we will never get over it & we can only partially comprehend it by grace: "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."  That.  Is. Amazingly.  Awesome!  (in the truest sense of the word)

Essentially, then, the bad news is that we're much worse off than we think we are; start by comparing yourself to total sinless perfection...yeah, me neither.  The good news...the INCREDIBLE news!...is beyond our wildest dreams!  That incredible news is that you & I are loved right now, just like we are by the One Who hung the stars, and Who pursues us desiring to have that relationship restored with us.  So much so that, again, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

If your life has been reduced to coldly rational intellectualism, please consider this Gospel.  Here it is in one verse: "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord."  (Romans 6:23)  Amazing grace, indeed!

Perhaps our loss of wonder is why Heaven seems like a boring place to imagine...and why faith seems so child-like, if not childish...and why we feel entitled to be loved...and why we yawn as we stand for Handel's glorious "Hallelujah Chorus"...

Let me leave you with some lyrics that Bill Gaither penned a while back, that just crush me every time I listen:

Worthy the Lamb

Hear the cries of the shackled from the onset of time,
For the chains of defeat, there's no key.
See the tears of the broken, the cries of the slaves,
Is there no one worthy to set us free?

Then the crying is stilled as the chorus rings out,
The shackled released from their chains,
And thousands of voices are swelling the song,
"Worthy the Lamb that was slain!"

Worthy, worthy, worthy the Lamb that was slain (repeat)

And all the archangels, the saints of all time,
Holding their crowns in their hands,
Fall down before Him, joining the song,
"Worthy, worthy the Lamb!"

(repeat chorus)

Do yourself a favor & watch this clip of the Gaither Vocal Band doing the song (5 minutes long).  FYI, Bill's the first one who sings, and he himself would say, as a singer he's a very good songwriter.  Still, note the emotions he & the other guys have after all these times singing this; note how Marshall Hall is only barely able to get through his verse; note Guy Penrod falling his tall self to his knees.  Awesome...(Me?  Yeah, I've watched it probably 50 times, & have a perfect record of 0 for 50 in terms of getting all the way through it without an allergy attack...I hope my record stays intact, if anyone's curious.)

Don't lose the wonder!

Amazed,
bb

Update Wed 6/22/11

--Got on Longleaf Trace yesterday morning for the 1st time in 6 weeks!
OK, so it was just for a 3-mile walk; wasn't for a bike ride...YET.  That's coming, but I'm not able just now.  I did ride down the driveway & back, which proved conclusively that I'm not ready for a real ride.  Still, I'm pretty pumped about being back out there!  I'm now all the more eagerly anticipating that next ride.

--Went 24 hrs w/ no pain meds yesterday!  Not even an Ibuprofen!
I did take my "regular" Ibuprofen dose ~10 p.m. as I was heading to bed, as I was a bit sore.  But that's a pretty significant milestone; 1st 24-hr pd in 5.5 weeks with no pain meds of any kind!

--Slowly getting out & about a bit & doing just a bit more.
Today's "more" was the walk.  I'm heading over to WCU in the next few days to do just a little bit of office mgmt. there and to eat w/ some of my colleagues & friends (I use those interchangeably).

--I'm beginning to get pumped about getting back "on the podium" (as my brother calls it).
Which is good, since I'm teaching a class that starts July 5.

--I'm also really digging my "new" car!
I found it on cars.com, we drove up together to check it out, & then while I was in Houston, Lisa killed it & brought it home.  *smile*  95 Toyota Camry, with only 50k miles on it.  Looks very good, & so far has very few of the glitches one expects when buying a used car.  Of course, the most significant improvement of this one over my other one--aside from looking LOTS better--is that this one has a working a/c.  Which is pretty significant in the S. MS heat.

--Surgery wound-wise, nearly daily progress. 
Less pain (see above about pain meds), and increased usefulness & mobility of my left arm/shoulder.  It's actually quite amazing how much you miss being able to use an arm; even the "off" arm (I'm utterly right-handed).  Now to re-gain strength.  Or better, to wind up with more than I had 6 weeks ago.  *laughing*

One of the great blessings of this cancer journey is being the recipient of so many intentional, sacrificial acts of kindness & friendship by so many.  Cards, emails, "praying for you"/"rejoicing with you" messages on facebook,...not to mention lawn mowings, meals, & such.  Very humbling!

I hope anew that I can soon be the hands & feet of Jesus, as so very many of you have been to us.  I'll never be the same.  For which I am most grateful.

With great love & thanksgiving,
Mike

p.s. - Got a few other entries percolating; you've been warned. ;-{)}

Drum roll, please! (MDA update, FRIDAY 6/17)

I'm back in the hotel room now, after this latest most-important-Dr.-appt of my life.

The P.E.T. Scan was clear!!!

(I'd high-five & hug every one, but really am physically unable to do that @ the moment due to post-op limitations.  Give yourself one of each from me.  *smile*)

What this means:
It means I have another 3 whole months of freedom until the next P.E.T. scan, & until the next most-important-appt-ever.  I'd live large, if I weren't so sore.  ;-{)}

(aside: I have a whole separate blog post percolating on life in 3-month increments.  You've been warned.)

Now, the scan did catch one thing, that has zero to do with any new tumor development.  I have a Gore-tex chest wall on my left side now, as of my surgery a month ago yesterday.  Well, the P.E.T. scan shows that it's separated slightly from my actual flesh chest wall & left a small space in between.  The radiologist reading the scan said this could be simply normal post-op adjustment & movement, but she cautioned to watch for infection.  Nobody is worried about this, since I show no signs of infection, and am improving physically (if slowly for my tastes).  And again, this has nothing to do with any new tumor development.

Thus, I'm sitting around pondering various punchlines related to my Gore-tex chest wall failing.  Here's Jim's first pass, which I like: "Seems your surgeon should've used duct tape or something."  And my own: "Should've paid the extra $$ for non-recycled plastic."  *laughing*

Anyway, great news today.  My step-Dad says let's have about 60 more of these clear quarterly scans.  I'd take it!

So now, I leave the hotel ~8, & fly out @ 10, arriving in Jackson ~11:10, where I'll dine with this dashingly handsome & brilliant pharmacist in his last year of pharmacy school, who'll also chauffer me home.  Handsome lad, that one.

Thanks so much for all your prayers & encouragement & acts of service, my friends.

With love & thanksgiving,
Mike
2 Corinthians 4:7, 16-18

UPDATE, Thurs, 6/16

Today was P.E.T. scan & bloodwork day.

Had bkfst ~7, which included a delightful visit w/ a 60-something couple from Kansas.  She has pancreatic cancer, which is normally a very bad one.  She has had it for...4 YEARS now!  She said her Dr. back home refers to her as "weird."  I told her I'm "living outside the numbers" acc. to mine here.  When they left to catch the shuttle, she said "you stay outside the numbers, & I'll keep being weird."  *huge grin*

Back to room to chill & write &read &facebook & such for a couple of hours.  Regrettably, those hours did *not* include coffee...water only.  All day...water only.

11:00 shuttle to MDA.  Bloodwork, which involved filling a couple dozen vials.  (OK, it was only 5.)

Obligatory MDA gear shopping trip @ giftshop, & then off to P.E.T. prep/scan.
--IV inserted, & toxic waste injected. ;-{)}  (radioactive sugar, which tumors absorb, thus lighting up the scan)
--mandatory 1-hour nap lying still on back (my favorite part of this process)
--actual scan took ~40 minutes

Walked ~3/4 mile from Mays Clinic to main building!  (Mostly, to see if I could.  Note to all concerned about 100+ degree heat here: the walk is entirely indoors on an air-conditioned skyway.)

Ate the greatest-tasting bag of convenience-store peanuts ever (you know those 50-cent bags of chips by the register?  It was one of those, but after 10 hours of water-only, it was *glorious*!), & a cup of coffee (again, water only for 10 hrs.)

Now sitting in hotel room watching U.S. Open reruns with a full belly after the best microwave dinner ever.

I was concerned about being physically able to lie still and to get in position for the scans because of my post-op physical limitations & of pain.  Absolutely NO problem!  Fell asleep quickly & stayed so for the nap part, & the scan only required minimal movement.  Thanks MUCH to all who had prayed about this!

Now to watch the......clock.....move......s  l  o  w  l  y......until tomorrow's 12:30 appt where I get the results of today's scan & bloodwork.  In other words, tomorrow will be the latest most-important-Dr.-appt-of-my-life.  I have one of those every three months, & this is the latest one.  Prayers most welcome!

With love & hope,
Mike

WED 6/14 UPDATE (7:00 p.m.)

"So, Mr. Madaris, you are once again cancer-free.  Let's stay that way this time..." 

(delivered with a big smile)

And with those words, my surgeon for all 4 of my surgeries @ MDA dismissed me again with a big smile earlier this afternoon.  *huge grin*

*VERY IMPORTANT CAVEAT!!* "Cancer-free" there means basically that the tumor I had a month ago is gone with good "margins" around it, & the pathology results from that surgery were all good.  So, now the prayer & hope is to hear those same words on Friday after tomorrow's P.E.T. scan.

Still, today was a significant appointment.  As fond as Lisa & I are of the guy, we hope we never walk into his part of MDA again.  *smile*

As a HUGE bonus to today's fun, a childhood & HS friend took a day off & drove up to spend the morning & early afternoon with me.  Let me fill in the details of how awesome that is:  He left his house ~6:30 a.m., fixed a flat tire, & then drove 80 miles to get here to the hotel.  We had bkfst here, & then he drove me to MDA.  He hung w/ me there throughout my 2 appointments (!!).  He took me to lunch @ a wonderful Cajun/Seafood place.  He drove me to the store to pick up a couple of things I needed for the next couple of days, & then walked me back to the room, carrying my few things for me.  As he left, he said, "Now if you need anything these next couple of days, call me; I'm only an hour & a half away." 

Gotta love servant-minded friendship!! 
(I'm grateful to have many servant-minded friends, some of whom are reading this.)

I'm SOOOO thankful & SOOOOO humbled by Jerone's sacrifice today!  As best we could figure, we last saw each other in the Fall of 1977 @ a Florida-Auburn football game in Auburn (of all places!).  We picked right up where we left off & had a great visit that just blessed my soul.

(BTW, Jerone, while I managed to stay awake all afternoon despite that huge & awesome lunch, I'm still pretty much in the same chair I've been in since you left 4 hours ago...)  ;-{)}

Important note to those who see me & know me these days: both Jerone and I are rocking Hawaiian shirts, shirts, & sandals, which proves that you can take the boys off of the beach for many years, but you'll never get the beach off of the boys! *grin*

Thanks for your continued prayers, my friends!
Mike

Details of this week's MDA-related "Fun"

--Tues 6/14 => Anne Madaris drives me to Jackson; I fly to Houston @ 6:00 p.m. arriving @ 7:20.
(Something called “Business Select” class which sounds impressive! I’m trying to decide how to list it on my resume.)

--Wed 6/15 => Xray @ 10, appt w/ surgeon @ 11:00.
This is the easiest of the 3 days. Xrays will take ~ 2 minutes; appt w/ surgeon (hopefully) not much longer. Shouldn’t be much of an intense-emotion type day.
--Late lunch/hangout w/ HS/childhood buddy who I’ve probably not seen in 35 years (OK, this is not on the official MDA itinerary, but he lives nearby.) ;-{)}

--Thurs. 6/16 => P.E.T. scan + bloodwork (my “regular” followup tests & scans that I do every 3 months)
This is a physically-challenging day, but not an intense-emotion day either. (Well, except for those caused by walking into MDA any day & just seeing the many patients there…see “First Time Here” blog entry, for example) I’ll have to lie on my back still for a couple of hours not in a row; this will be *very* difficult w/ my chest/shoulder pain & shoulder mobility status these days. (Normally, I just catch a nap, including during the scan…)
The real bummer is that I can’t eat or drink anything except water for 6 hrs. prior. Scan is sched’d for 3:30 p.m. On the huge plus side, I’ll get to have breakfast, unlike most scan days.

--Fri 6/17 => appt w/ medical Dr. to get scan/blood results (this is my “main” guy there, & is the guy I see every 3 mos.)
Here’s the potentially intense-emotion day, as this is the 3-mo. appt that reveals the scan results. My Dr.’s going to be out for the next 2 weeks after this day, which means his sched this day could be…interesting. At least I get to eat 2 meals first!

--Sat 6/18 => fly back @ 10:00, arriving @ 11:10 (theoretically) James Madaris meets me @ Jackson airport & drives me to H’burg.
My passenger class this flight is, I think, “find a spot on the tail of the plane, strap in, & try to hang on” as opposed to “Business Select”. (insert cattle noises for those who have flown this class on SW Airlines) *laughing*

Getting from hotel to MDA & back will be done via free hotel shuttle; getting from airport to hotel & back will be via “Super Shuttle” which is a national company offering van rides to/from various airports that I find pretty interesting.

Thanks *so* much to all for your prayers & friendship! Both matter greatly to Lisa & me these past 3 years.

With love, faith, & hope,
Mike

p.s. – one *HUGE* bonus of this particular trip is getting 2 uninterrupted hours with each of my children. I GREATLY treasure such times…

Update, 6/10/11 - 3 Weeks After Surgery

Bottom line: MUCH slower progress than I had hoped.  But as Lisa reminded me a couple of days ago when I was having a bit of a whine-a-thon, I am *way* ahead of where I was after last year's surgery.  Which is quite true.

On the plus side, I have now driven a car for three days in a row!  It felt mighty good, & was frankly a bit invigorating, as sad as that may sound.)

There are more positives...

--I officially have no more bandages of any kind.
A week ago, we removed the last remaining bandages. Also a significant step. Everything looks good in terms of wound healing. Related aside: ever seen pictures of a shark bite? My surgery site looks like half of a shark bite. But rest easy; there will be zero pics of that part of the journey...*laughing*  Another related aside: I now have some plastic ribs.  My boss says this makes me "sustainable"...I like it!  *smile*

--I've eased off of the pain meds during the day
Well, eased off of the narcotic ones; I still eat lots of Ibuprofen, per Doctor's orders. It hurts, but not so much as to incapacitate me any more. With that said,...

--I'm good for one outing a day...but only one!
Example: Sunday, I taught my Sunday School class, did my techie duties at church, went out to eat at a place we both really like...& then had to take the big pain pill & go deeply to sleep & stay semi-asleep for the rest of the day & evening.

So, I'm out & about a bit here & there, but still not very much.

--I'm getting some great reading done!
Obviously, I have a lot of free time, even after allowing for the reality that I'm asleep for much of it...*sigh* As a read-a-holic, free time means "time to read," which is a good thing. However, since my peak mental times come at varied times & don't last very long, I'm doing a lot of what I call "ADD reading" which means reading bits & pieces here & there. To wit,...

I just finished getting taught by one of the all-time greats, Dr. Howard Hendricks who just retired from Dallas Theological Seminary after decades of incredible teaching. (We've heard him speak during our days on staff w/ Campus Crusade, and he is amazing!) He wrote a little book called Teaching to Change Lives that I've gone through slowly these last couple of weeks. Fantastic read! I'll be going back & pulling out all of the notes I made things I underlined to try to help my SS teaching and my WCU teaching.

I'm also getting some superb one-on-one life coaching by one of the best, Dr. Henry Cloud, via his book The One-Life Solution: Reclaim Your Personal Life While Achieving Greater Professional Success. Loving it!  (Aside: I try to read at least one "life management" type book every year; perhaps one year it'll sink in.  *grin*)

In addition, I'm reading Predictably Irrational by Dr. Dan Ariely, & having a blast doing so. He teaches behavioral economics, and this book is basically a collection of fascinating empirical results that challenge some of the conventional wisdom of the field. ("Hi, I'm Mike, & I'm a nerd; in fact, I'm an Econ & Finance nerd"..."Hi, Mike! *grin*)

Finally, a couple of days ago, I finished George Tenet's At the Center of the Storm: The CIA During America's Time of Crisis. He was director of the CIA under Presidents Clinton & Bush, and therefore was present for & a key part of some of the most significant foreign policy decisions in America's history. Rise of al Qaeda, 9/11/01, Iraq War beginning, Afghanistan War beginning,...

So, yeah...my reading is varied these days...*huge grin*

--I've walked a few times, though not as frequently nor as far as I wish.
Working on it & making a bit of progress. I'm steeling myself for the possibility of a short bike ride soon; can't wait for that, whenever it happens!

Some Milestones yet to come:
--That first bike ride
--A complete day of staying awake!
(Of course, I've probably reached the point where I could transition from "pain-med-induced naptime" to "old-age-induced naptime"...*laughing)
--A full day of work @ the office
--Followup Scans to come this coming week (see separate entry coming with details.)  Prayers most welcome, and SO greatly appreciated!

With love & hope & faith,
Mike

Memorial Day

From the Revolutionary War through the present:

1,343, 812 killed while in military service.

1,529,230 wounded while in military service.

38,159 MIA while in military service. (starting w/ World War I)

If you are able,
save for them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they can
no longer go...take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind.Major Michael Davis O'Donnell
1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam
On March 24th, 1970, Michael O'Donnell along with crew mates Berman Ganoe, John C. Hosken, Rudy M. Becerra, John Boronski, Gary A. Harned and Jerry L. Pool went Missing In Action.

One day, they will hammer their sords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, and they shall remember war no more. Until then, join me in celebrating the lives & sacrificies of those who never came home. And be thankful for those who did, like, say, the former U.S. Navy pilot I'm hanging out with this afternoon.

Memorial Day? Baloney.

Every day is Memorial Day.

bb

Progress. Progress?

Here's the latest (Fri, 5/27, 8:00 a.m.)

Noticeable improvement. Still a considerable amount of pain, but visible improvement. And still a long way to go.

I still take 2 different pain meds, staggering them so that I'm taking something every 2 hours. (1's a narcotic; the other is a heavy dose of anti-inflammatory drugs). I *hate* taking lots of pain meds, because I hate the sleep/stupor they put me in. And yet I still have to do so because of pain. *sigh*

One big sign of progress is that I find myself looking @ the clock & getting bummed out as the time for the narcotic one approaches. Earlier in the week, I looked @ the clock in eager anticipation of temporary relief from pain the next dose would bring. Now I look with a heavy sigh, knowing that I still have to take it, and also knowing that it'll put me in that stupor for a while.

I'm still sleeping on the couch out of 2-way fear (hers and mine!) than Lisa or I will roll over in the night & hit my incision. Which would be a whole lot of bad...and would be pretty easy to do.

*Eagerly* anticipating the following, perhaps some day in the not-too-distant future:

--sleeping in my own bed

--NOT having to deal w/ the narcotic stupor

--sitting in a tub & soaking for a while (Progress: I *can* shower now, but no soaking in a bath tub)

--riding my bike

--driving my car

--an entire day of productivity, rather than the occasional minutes of productivity right now

--mowing my lawn (no, really! In the mean time though, I'm *so* thankful to a friend who has told us he'd mow it for as long as we needed)

Speaking of pain-med stupor, um...night night! *sigh*

Thanks for your continued prayers!
With love & hope,
Mike

"First Time Here..."

I saw it again a couple of months ago when I was last out here.

I totally felt the guy's pain & could relate to what I saw on his face.

I still remember, although from a different perspective.

This time, I was heading out of M.D. Anderson's main clinic to catch the motel shuttle after my "good news" visit, and there he was.

A guy who stepped inside the door for his first-ever visit there.

Like all of us on our first visit, he was absolutely overwhelmed, by which I mean his already worn-to-a-nub circuits were totally overloaded when he stepped inside the door.

There's no describing the depth of feeling and emotion he felt that day.

I know, because I can't describe my own feelings & emotions from that day for me 2.5 years ago. I've tried in this space and many other times in never-published drafts.

Based on my interpretation of what I saw, he was not the patient. She was waiting outside on the bench until he made sure they were in the right place. Conserving her strength for whatever this terrible detour into the deep woods & weeds of their life's journey held.

It was all right there on his face.

"There must be some mistake...cancer--especially the kind that gets one sent to MDA--happens to OTHER families. Not ours..."

"Look at the size of this place! We'll NEVER find the right place"

"I'm the guy; I'm supposed to know how things work. Here, I got NOTHING..."

"Is she gonna die? What happens between now & then? Can that be delayed?"

"My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me??"

Those five thoughts can create a mighty anguished look on the face. I 'spect mine looked that way too in May, 2008. Lisa's too, since she was actually in this guy's shoes as the spouse of the patient. (Aside: it's been said before, but bears repeating: it's WAY easier to be the patient than the spouse of the patient.)

He stopped in front of one of the police guys who happened to be near the door, & just said the one phrase: "First time here..."

He was too stunned to cry or even to talk much at that point. He just looked like a 5-year-old boy who's gotten away from his folks at a huge outdoor event & has no clue what to do nor where to go.

The policeman gently showed him to the concierge station just behind them, where his "process" questions were expertly answered. Which helps a LOT!

But still, the huge, gaping questions remained. Some of which will likely not be answered this side of eternity.

And once again, I wanted to hug a perfect stranger & say "There's hope! 2.5 years ago, I walked in here overwhelmed just like you. Stage IV of a very nasty breed of cancer. And yet, here I am, with no signs of cancer any more."

I didn't do that, nor say that. He was too busy getting directions & learning how the valet parking worked & where the escalators are & where the elevators are & what time the cafeteria closes & where the hospital part is & where the bathrooms are & how to retrieve a daily schedule & how often they'll need her patient ID number & that the coffee shop is right over there & where the regular cafeteria is & which elevator to take to get to the specialists in her type of cancer...

Which, frankly, are more pressing @ the moment than the deep questions cancer calls forth.

So, I prayed for him as he walked by & stepped out & called my brother to celebrate with me on the phone.

Just another day in the life of the tens of thousands of MDA cancer patients & families.

One day, cancer will be no more. Sickness & death will have been utterly & decisive defeated. Perhaps even a cancer vaccine will be developed before that day. Who knows?

But until then, please join me in thanking God for the men & women who work @ MDA, giving their days & energies to eradicating this illness I hate so much. Men & women who enfold every first time patient into the MDA world lovingly & tenderly & with great grace.

And please join me in praying for those who have to walk in & get a patient bracelet, and for their loved ones. Once, for example, I saw a young father & his very young daughter leaving as they talked about Mommy up there in the hospital room..."We'll come back tomorrow, Honey; Mommy needs her rest right now"...That'll break down the bogus "I-never-cry-because-I'm-a-man-&-I'm-strong" thinking in a quick hurry! And it will also do wonders for your prayer life & your gratitude quotient...

God, teach me to number my days, that I may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12) Help me be thankful & grace-filled every day that you grant me, for I am already living "outside the numbers" to quote my Dr. Use me, Lord, glorify Your holy Name in me & through me. As the old hymn says, Make me a blessing to someone today. And God, grant grace & endurance to the Drs. & Nurses & Techs & Food Service Workers & Janitors & Security Guards & Welcome-Desk volunteers as they together seek to address this insidious, horrible illness known as cancer. And please, God, grant that same enabling grace & endurance to those whose universe has been rocked by a phone call or a Dr. appt. during which the bad news was received.

Use such things as cancer to make us LONG for that oh-so-glorious day when You Yourself will wipe away every tear from our eyes as sickness and death will be no more. May we be found faithful to magnify Your Name and the glories of the Gospel between now & then.

In the Glorious Grip of His Grace,
BB

Update, 5/23, 9:00 p.m. => Home

After squeezing an 8-hour drive into 10 hours (because of having to stop & walk), we are home!!

I, of course, had the magic pain pills; therefore the trip did not seem that long at all. (Deep & frequent naps can distort time like that...) Lisa's trip probably seemed a tad bit longer methinks. She had to rely on the ipod, which today featured the teaching of Russell Moore & J.D. Grear, plus the music of Astral Project, among others. (She made it OK)

The post-op recovery continues to go surprisingly well. I've definitely had some significant pain, and will have more before it's over. However, both of us agree that this has been by far the best post-surgery recovery of the four. Even though I'm down more of the rib he took out last year...

So now I basically sit around & try to not move. (Aside: you know how uncomfortable it is to get pinched? Now picture that on the *inside* of the chest wall, with two of your ribs doing the pinching when you move...Hello pain meds!)

Lisa's off tomorrow, which is a great blessing for her. The agenda for the day is to re-patriate some cars & fetch the dogs. Then they & I will lie around & be utterly useless for a few days (I'm really hoping Lisa notices the difference! *huge grin*) while waiting on the incredible blend of God's grace, the wonder that is the human body, and better living through biochemstry to combine such that I'll be able to resume functioning as my usual semi-productive self.

Here are some things I'm *eagerly* looking forward to in the next couple of weeks:
--an actual shower
--washing my hair
--an actual sit-in-the-tub-&-soak bath
--walking farther than the end of my neighbor's yard
--riding my bike (that's a while down the road...see "pinching" analogy above...)
--driving a car (Anne & Lisa will come to eagerly anticipate this one too...)

I go back out to Camp Happyland in about a month for followup stuff. (Watch this space for details as they become known).

THANK YOU *so* much for your prayers & friendship. I deeply cherish the prayers & acts of service & encouraging words we've received through this journey.

With a full, loving, hopeful heart,
Mike
2 Cor:4:16-18

Sunday mornin' coming down...

(Update, Sun., 5/22, 8:30 a.m.)

--Relatively good night sleep for me last night (within context of a hospital, that is...which is an important clarification!)

--Considerable pain this a.m. I think it's just because I'm about due another batch of pain meds, but it hurts! Related, My left shoulder hurts during these "end-of-pain-med-dose" times. As it turns out, one's shoulder has to be contorted pretty seriously during surgery to get to where my tumor was; bummer!

--Dr. Mehran's resident, Dr. Marks, came by ~7:oo & said Dr. M would be by ~ 9:00 t0 check me again. Then, pull out the IVs & chest drains & color us gone!!

(Important note: based on prior experiences, the leaving process is a VERY slow one. So we will not be out in time to head back to the Burg today. We're planning to spend tonight in a hotel here & then head out tomorrow a.m. for the long drive home)

Even w/ this a.m.'s pain, this has been--by FAR--the easiest recovery yet, including the 2 VATS surgeries in Summer 08, which were much less intense surgeries than this one physically. Praying for that to continue in this next phase.

I'm very eager to have no more IV ports attached; that way, I'll stop catching them on clothes & bedsheets & tables & anything else around every dadburn time I move. *smile*

I'm also very eager to have these 2 chest drains removed. While walking around with two round vials of post-op chest surgery drainage fluids is pretty attractive & all,...the thrill is gone. *grin* (No pics, so rest easy) Once that's done, I'll be able to wear an actual shirt!

Which leads to this: Those who know me well will smile @ this mental image...Lisa had me a Hawaiian shirt custom-made for this occasion with full zippers down both sides! (so we can do wound care stuff) I can't wait to rock it on the ride out of here! Regs do require me to ride out of here on a wheelchair, sadly.

BTW, in the 30 min since I started writing this, the anti-inflammatory has kicked in for the shoulder. *Much* better already!

Hopefully, my next update will be from a hotel here in town.

Thanks SO much for your prayers & friendship & good thoughts! We are most blessed. One of the great things about this journey--really!--is that we see the very best people have to offer, & are reminded of the incomparable value of having friends & being a friend. Thank you for teaching us this anew, & for being the hands & feet of God for us!

With love & hope,
Mike
2 Cor 4:16-18

p.s. - VERY eager to put on the Hawaiian shirt! ;-{)}

Update, Saturday, 5/21, noon

There's progress. Remember my comment about post-op recovery being a progressive unplugging of tubes & catheters & such? I'm down to one working attachment, & it's being removed in the next few minutes! (Still have 4 separate IV's attached, but they're not wired to anything @ the moment; oh and the fingertip oxygen monitor, but I disconnect that one to go on our walks)

A couple of hrs ago, they turned off & disconnected my epidural pain med pump. @ that point, I switched to oral pain meds. (The epi is still there, but it's not hooked up to anything any more). Assuming that switch continues to go well, we're discharged tomorrow!!!! Will spend tomorrow night here & then head east Mon. a.m.

Thus far, the switch is going well, and this is still the best post-op recovery period I've had. *Much* less pain than last Summer's recovery; much less pain med required, etc. As an added bonus, each of the 3 meals I've had are still on board! (as opposed to the previous three surgeries...*clears throat nervously* *smile*) Plz join me in praying that continues the rest of today + when we get home.

Aside: my surgeon is dept. head of thoracic surgery...da boss. And yet, here he was @ 10:00 on a Saturday morning, checking on me.

Another aside: he said I should be able to ride Short Ribs the bike this week!! (While I'm generally very optimistic, I'm not sure about that one...maybe the following week...*smile*)

FYI, this tumor was a new metastisis, even though it was in the same area as the last one.

TOTALLY UNRELATED PRAYER REQUEST:
My nephew Jamie (Jim's older son) is marrying his sweetie Liz tonight in Nashville (they've been dating since high school; 7 years!). Obviously, we won't be there for the wedding; Jim says we'll "be there for the marriage, if not the wedding," which sentiment I just LOVE. Plz pray for Jamie & Liz as they start their life together. They are great folks; among the many 20-somethings that give me hope for the future. Thanks so much! (and MAN, do I wish I could be there! *sigh*)

Thank you SO VERY MUCH for your prayers & thoughts & love for us! Words fail @ this point, but know that you've been prayed for from room 717 of the thoracic surgery recovery ward of MDA today.

In His Grip,
Mike

Post-Op Report, Friday 5/20/11

Live, from a room @ M. D. Anderson, it's mmbeachbum with an update at 4:30 p.m. on May 20...

*Huge* difference between this surgery's recovery & last year's recovery so far. This one's going *much* better. Far less pain...much easier to breathe...much easier to walk (I actually walked last night, just a few hrs after surgery!)...much less pain meds required...which means I'm much more coherent (insert your own punchline here *grin*)...already off of post-op oxygen (last year we travelled home w/ oxygen & needed it a few days after arriving in the Burg.)

The big explanation for this: the grace of El Elyon, sovereign God of the universe! (and one of my favorite names of God in Scripture)

The detailed explanation: different approach to pain mgmt this time. I had a epidural pump inserted into my spine very similar to what some ladies have during childbirth. (I was assured beforehand that I'm past child-bearing years, so we felt safe. *chuckle*) This device pumps meds continuously that block nerves; plus, I have an extra pump I can hit as needed to give an extra shot. (I needed it last night & early this morning; haven't needed it since) Use of this particular pain mgmt approach means I need far fewer narcotic type drugs. That's the most likely medical explanation.

Whatever the reason, I'll take it! *smile*

Of course, the bummer is, the pump gets removed when I leave, at which point the pain of getting cut on will likely elevate significantly. But let's not talk about that just now...*another smile*

As an added bonus, post-op pain meds usually have a single-episode of a very impressive effect that I'll not elaborate on much. Let's just say that I'm very pleased that my first real meal at lunch today is...well, still on board. ;-{)}

PRAYER REQUESTS FROM HERE FORWARD:
--continuation of the good post-op recovery
--safe travels back home whenever we get released
(estimate is 3-5 days after surgery; we're ready when it happens & aren't worried about when that is)
--quick & complete recovery once I get back home.
Basically, I'm eager to get back on Short Ribs the bike!
(Due to thoughtful graciousness by my boss & a colleague, I don't have to teach again until July, which frees up a bunch of time to recover fully...hopefully)

--And the Biggie: PLEASE PRAY THAT THIS MELANOMA NEVER COMES BACK AGAIN!
We've had *great* experiences with some amazing Drs. & Nurses & Techs & other patients out here...But I much prefer clean scans that do not require surgery or immunotherapy or chemo or anything like that.

Lisa & I are so humbled & so thankful to be prayed for & served by so many. We'd not have chosen this journey, but we are SO very blessed to have seen the Body of Christ function on our behalf. As nasty as cancer is, I shudder to ponder having to undergo the journey of the last three years without the prayers & love of our friends, some of whom we haven't even met yet.

With love & hope,
Mike
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Go Time!

Thursday a.m. (5/19) @ 8:00, we report to MDA for metastatic melanoma surgery #4 since Summer 08. I'll be under the excellent surgical care of Dr. Mehran, who did the other three also.

To my chagrin, this one--like last year's--will require removing part of another rib. Which means (lots) more than a few days of feeling yucky when we get back home. (Last year, I had to re-fill the pain med prescription they sent home with me...yeah...*sigh*)

[Ever known a 50-something-year-old mixed martial arts fighter who's missing parts of multiple ribs? Me neither. So since that career path is out, I s'pose I'll keep on professoring. ;-{)} ]

What's it like the night before metastatic melanoma surgery? What goes through one's mind?

I can't answer for everyone; just me. Bottom line: Very Heavy-Duty stuff! I'm pondering things like pain, my own mortality (as Dr. Mehran says, we should not take surgery lightly!), heaven (how awesome it will be whenever that day comes for me), friends (great ones I have & not-so-great one that I've been at times), being a husband & father (basically, coming to grips that I've not been nearly what I should be as a husband & as a father...and earnestly desiring more chances to love & lead Lisa, James, & Anne...and trusting that God's grace will magnify my efforts far beyond my own abilities), unfinished business, life & ministry impact (or lack thereof at times), the you-gotta-be-kidding-me amazing grace of God that overcomes all of my own sins & shortcomings...

Fairly overpowering stuff, apart from the grace of God, I gotta tell you! (Nearly overpowering *with* the grace of God!) I'm struck that such things should go through our minds at times *other than* the night before surgery...Hmmm...

Gloriously, God gives a greater grace in the form of mental blocking mechanisms & distractions. (Related, I'm VERY thankful for Stu Weber's book Infinite Impact on this trip...I've long loved Stu's writing, & this one's exactly what I needed so far on this trip.) Plus, my Business students will be pleased to hear that our hotel's free newspaper is the Wall St. Journal. Oddly, there seem to be extra copies left @ the end of each day. Strange... ;-{)}

Also, as much of a bummer as another surgery recovery is, a quick glance around MDA--even just around our hotel!--reminds me that as far as cancer journeys go, I am *most* blessed & fortunate! On a fairly regular basis, I'm undone by seeing fellow patients & their families. I rarely cry when I see them...until they pass by, or until a bathroom avails itself, whichever.

**PLEASE PRAY FOR LISA TOMORROW!**

My part's easy; hers is...not easy. I'd *much* rather be the patient than the loved one of the patient!

So our hope is that by this time tomorrow I'm in the warehouse as I call it (recovery room) getting ready to head to our regular hospital room. Our further hope is that by this time next week, we've been back home in H'burg for a couple of days already with me on the mend.

While you're at it, would you please pray that the melanoma doesn't come back in me ever again? I'd *love* for that to be the case, but that, of course is not up to me nor to Dr. Mehran, nor any other Dr. here.

Thanks so much for holding us up & encouraging us through "this light, momentary affliction."

With much love & great hope,
Mike
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

(p.s. - ever seen an xray of a guy missing part of a rib? It's fascinating...would be more so if it weren't an xray of me! *smile*)

p.p.s. for all who insist on lying in the sun and/or on the tanning bed: I have some scars to show you, with more to come tomorrow...and my melanoma showed up over 30 years after I moved away from the beach. And my family does not have a history of melanoma; well, not until me. Effect, meet cause...

Why, God, Why??

(Some birthday musings I've been pondering lately, coming to you live from Houston & a hotel near M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. Caution: this one's pretty alarmingly transparent; I question God repeatedly in it. You've been warned.)

WHY, GOD, WHY??
...why was I born an American, where there were no police busting up my church's worship services yesterday?

...why was I born into a family that loved me & nurtured me & disciplined me & taught me & encouraged me & provided for me? Why did you allow me to have James E. Madaris & Sarah B. Madaris Hicks as my amazing parents?

...why was I allowed to be John & Martha Benton's grandson and Charlie & Mattie Madaris' grandson?

...why did you give me such an excellent brother who has become such a great friend?

...why did you give me such an oustanding bunch of relatives who love me & encourage me & teach me & challenge me & pray for me & guide me & love me anyway?

...why, oh why, did such a wonderful, beautiful lady fall in love with me & marry me nearly 27 years ago?

...why did you grant me two such amazing children, who are so very different and yet so very much fun to hang out with?

...why did you let me sit under the fantastic preaching of Dr. Tony Merida for four years?

...why did you give me friends from all over the planet?

...why did you redeem me by your grace, despite my many & manifest shortcomings & failures & sins & despite my rebellion against your love, both actively & passively?

...why did you allow me to grow up around the beautiful beaches of NW FL & on the Choctawhatchee Bay?

...why did you give me so many friends growing up, so many of whom are still friends today decades after I moved away from there?

...why did you put me around so many excellent friends in Gainesville, FL despite my own hammerheadedness back then?

...why did you let me attend the University of Alabama, thereby fulfilling a childhood dream?

...why did you put me under the discipling ministry of this veterinarian from Smith County, MS named Johnny Mayfield?

...why did you let me sit under the incredible Bible teaching of this pediatrician from the MS Gulf Coast named Ronnie Kent, who still teaches me & encourages me & prays for me despite my having not been in his class for nearly 20 years?

...why have you given me so many amazing friends from Temple Baptist Church where I've been a member for 21 years? And so many others from the Hattiesburg area where we've lived that same 21 years?

...why do you let me teach some *superb* folks in an adult Bible study class every Sunday morning?

...why did you let a chowderhead like me earn a Ph.D. in Financial Economics and then have some fantastic jobs, including most of all the one I have now at William Carey University, where I'm surrounded by incredible colleagues & awesome students, many of whom become friends?

...why did you let me come under the incredible medical care of Drs. Brett Robbins, Steve Conerly, Greg Owens, Nagen Bellare, & Rick Pecunia in Hattiesburg? And under the incredible medical care of Drs. Homsi & Mehran out here at M.D. Anderson?

...why am I still around three years after stage IV metastatic melanoma reared its ugly head?

...why is my prognosis for this upcoming surgery 3 days from now rather positive?

...why have you allowed me to live 52 years, despite my own foolishness in so many ways through those years?

...why do you magnify yourself through such a vastly inferior dude as myself?

...why, O why, God? Why do you love me so? Why are you so good to a wretch like me?

The M.D. Anderson Schedule for Next Week (in briefer form)

Here, FYI/FYP, is the sched of the upcoming festivities related to my next surgery:

Sunday 5/15 - Lisa & I drive to Houston after teaching my Sunday School class.

Monday 5/16 - Pre-op scan/test/stick day

Tuesday 5/17 - Dr. appts: 1 w/ surgeon, 1 w/ anesthesia

Wed 5/18 - Off; nothing on the schedule

Thurs 5/19 - Surgery Day!!
Dr. Mehran likes to operate early; my guess is that we'll be @ the hospital ~6:00, w/ surgery to follow shortly after.

**Please pray for Lisa this day.** Hers is--by FAR--the hard part; sitting & waiting & wondering.

Fri & Sat 5/20 & 5/21 - Recovery in Hospital
(Best guess: in the hospital for a couple of days; Lisa can stay with me in the room on a tiny pull-out bed.)

Sun 5/22 - Lounge around in hotel
(again, this is a guess; whenever I get discharged, we'll stay in Houston another day or so to make sure all my systems are turning back on properly)

Mon 5/23 - LONG travel day
(once again, a guess; this assumes I'm out of the hospital Sunday morning) It's long because Lisa has to do all the driving + we have to stop every hour or so to make me walk for clot-avoidance.

We're optimistic here, as are the Drs. Still, it's surgery & anesthesia &, oh yeah...cancer.

Your prayers are, as always, MOST welcome & SO very much appreciated!

With Hope,
Mike
2 Cor 4:16-18

MDA in May (Schedule)

("MDA in May" doesn't sound nearly as cool as "Memphis in May" or "Jazz Fest" or anything like that...and well it shouldn't!)

Here, FYI/FYP, is the sched of the upcoming festivities related to my next surgery:

Sunday 5/15 - Lisa & I drive to Houston.

Monday 5/16 - Celebrate my birthday in the following manner:
blood specimen collection
Chest Xray
CT Scan of Chest
complete pulmonary function test (which is the worst of these!)

I know you're jealous, but we can't *all* have such wild BDay celebrations as I. Sorry.

(Aside: I'm already looking forward to eating vast quantities of either the Med. Buffett or of Tex Mex. Post-scan gluttony. )

Tuesday 5/17 - 2 key appts: 1 with my surgeon to discuss the results of Monday's tests, and 1 with anesthesia to discuss the preparation & application of the voodoo that they do. It's the appt. w/ the surgeon that will yield the official "go" or "launch delayed" decision btw.

Wed 5/18 -(*best E. Starr delivery*) "Absolutely nuthin...huh" (Zero scheduled items this day; Lisa & I are considering rolling over to TX's version of Gulf beaches, which are not far from Houston.)

Thurs 5/19 - Go Time...Surgery Day!

Dr. Mehran likes to operate early; my guess is that we'll be @ the hospital ~6:00, w/ surgery to follow shortly after.

**Please pray for Lisa this day.** My part's easy: show up, receive anesthesia, & wake up some time later. Lisa's the one who has to watch the clock in the waiting room m o v e S O s l o w l y while waiting on Dr. Mehran to come speak with her. Thanks

I'll probably be in the hospital for a couple of days; Lisa can stay with me in the room on a tiny pull-out bed. Not the most restful sleep time for her, as I seem to get poked & prodded about every 30-60 min. while there. I *love* having her around at all times, but esp. during surgery recovery.

We plan on staying in Houston another day or two after discharge to make sure all of my systems are turning back on properly. Then the long drive home. I say "long" because Lisa will have to drive the whole way. And I'll be drifting suddenly & randomly from full-engaged thinking & talking to stone-cold deep sleep, with virtually no transition & no warning (all depending on what the pain drugs happen to do). Plus, we'll have to stop every hour so I can get out & walk for 10 minutes or so to reduce the risk of bloodclots in my legs. It'll be a long day for Lisa!

We're optimistic here, as are the Drs. Still, it's surgery & anesthesia & oh yeah...cancer. Your prayers are, as always, MOST welcome & SO very much appreciated!

With Hope,
Mike
2 Cor 4:16-18

p.s. - I don't teach until the 2nd half of the summer b/c my thoughtful boss & a gracious colleague made it possible for me. Thus, I'm planning on a bunch of sitting around & reading & watching the pine trees grow & taking care of some left over whittling & such for the first few days after we get home.

Because He...

Because He emptied Himself of all but love, you can be filled.
Because His body was broken, your life can be whole.
Because His blood was shed, your sin can be forgiven.
Because He submitted to injustice, you can forgive.
Because He finished His Father’s work, your life has worth.
Because He was forsaken, you will never be alone.
Because He was buried, you can be raised.
Because He lives, you don’t have to be afraid.
Because He reached down to you, you don’t have to work your way up to Him.
Because His promises are always true, you can have hope!

Anne Graham Lotz

What Good Friday Means: A Parable

A young girl grows up on a cherry orchard just above Traverse City, Michigan. Her parents, a bit old-fashioned, tend to overreact to her nose ring, the music she listens to, and the length of her skirts. They ground her a few times, and she seethes inside. “I hate you!” she screams at her father when he knocks on the door of her room after an argument, and that night she acts on a plan she has mentally rehearsed scores of times. She runs away.

She has visited Detroit only once before, on a bus trip with her church youth group to watch the Tigers play. Because newspapers in Traverse City report in lurid detail the gangs, the drugs, and the violence in downtown Detroit, she concludes that is probably the last place her parents will look for her. California, maybe, or Florida, but not Detroit.

Her second day there she meets a man who drives the biggest car she’s ever seen. He offers her a ride, buys her lunch, arranges a place for her to stay. He gives her some pills that make her feel better than she’s ever felt before. She was right all along, she decides: her parents were keeping her from all the fun.

The good life continues for a month, two months, a year. The man with the big car—she calls him “Boss”—teaches her a few things that men like. Since she’s underage, men pay a premium for her. She lives in a penthouse, and orders room service whenever she wants. Occasionally she thinks about the folks back home, but their lives now seem so boring and provincial that she can hardly believe she grew up there.

She has a brief scare when she sees her picture printed on the back of a milk carton with the headline “Have you seen this child?” But by now she has blond hair, and with all the makeup and body-piercing jewelry she wears, nobody would mistake her for a child. Besides, most of her friends are runaways, and nobody squeals in Detroit.

After a year, the first sallow signs of illness appear, and it amazes her how fast the boss turns mean. “These days, we can’t mess around,” he growls, and before she knows it she’s out on the street without a penny to her name. She still turns a couple of tricks a night, but they don’t pay much, and all the money goes to support her habit. When winter blows in she finds herself sleeping on metal grates outside the big department stores. “Sleeping” is the wrong word—a teenage girl at night in downtown Detroit can never relax her guard. Dark bands circle her eyes. Her cough worsens.

One night as she lies awake listening for footsteps, all of a sudden everything about her life looks different. She no longer feels like a woman of the world. She feels like a little girl, lost in a cold and frightening city. She begins to whimper. Her pockets are empty and she’s hungry. She needs a fix. She pulls her legs tight underneath her and shivers under the newspapers she’s piled atop her coat. Something jolts a synapse of memory and a single image fills her mind: of May in Traverse City, when a million cherry trees bloom at once, with her golden retriever dashing through the rows and rows of blossomy trees in chase of a tennis ball.

God, ,why did I leave, she says to herself, and pain stabs at her heart. My dog back home eats better than I do now. She’s sobbing, and she knows in a flash that more than anything else in the world she wants to go home.

Three straight phone calls, three straight connections with the answering machine. She hangs up without leaving a message the first two times, but the third time she says, “Dad, Mom, it’s me. I was wondering about maybe coming home. I’m catching a bus up your way, and it’ll get there about midnight tomorrow. If you’re not there, well, I guess I’ll just stay on the bus until it hits Canada.”

It takes about seven hours for a bus to make all the stops between Detroit and Traverse City, and during that time she realizes the flaws in her plan. What if her parents are out of town and miss the message? Shouldn’t she have waited another day or so until she could talk to them? And even if they are home, they probably wrote her off as dead long ago. She should have given them some time to overcome the shock.

Her thoughts bounce back and forth between those worries and the speech she is preparing for her father. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I know I was wrong. It’s not your fault; it’s all mine. Dad, can you forgive?” She says the words over and over, her throat tightening even as she rehearses them. She hasn’t apologized to anyone in years.

The bus has been driving with lights on since Bay City. Tiny snowflakes hit the pavement rubbed worn by thousands of tires, and the asphalt steams. She’s forgotten how dark it gets at night out here. A deer darts across the road and the bus swerves. Every so often, a billboard. A sign posting the mileage to Traverse City. Oh God.

When the bus finally rolls into the station, its air brakes hissing in protest, the driver announces in a crackly voice over the microphone, “Fifteen minutes, folks. That’s all we have here.” Fifteen minutes to decide her life. She checks herself in a compact mirror, smoothes her hair, and licks the lipstick off her teeth. She looks at the tobacco stains on her fingertips, and wonders if her parents will notice. If they’re there.

She walks into the terminal, not knowing what to expect. Not one of the thousand scenes that have played out in her mind prepares her for what she sees. There, in the concrete-walls-and-plastic-chairs bus terminal in Traverse City, Michigan, stands a group of forty brothers and sisters and great-aunts and uncles and cousins and a grandmother and great-grandmother to boot. They’re all wearing goofy party hats and blowing noise-makers, and taped across the entire wall of the terminal is a computer-generated banner that reads “Welcome Home!”

Out of the crowd of well-wishers breaks her dad. She stares out through the tears quivering in her eyes like hot mercury and begins the memorized, “Dad, I’m sorry. I know…”

He interrupts her. “Hush, child. We’ve got no time for that. No time for apologies. You’ll be late for the party. A banquet’s waiting for you at home.”

Philip Yancey, in What’s So Amazing About Grace? (story based on Luke 15:11-32)

See also Ephesians 2:1-10:
"You were...But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love,..."