#danine

Writing poetry.  A manly endeavor.  Something American culture tries to force as a sissy activity that really shows a love of culture - something ultimately manly.  So, why do so many of us steer away from it?  When I was in high school I liked to write.  But writing, like drawing, painting, and singing, makes us open - open to criticism and attack.  We fear being attacked for our content, skill, and ability to follow norms.  Well, tonight, I'm putting that vulnerability up as my Ebenezer. The vulnerability that I fear or express in tonight's post is not as much vested in my writing style as it is in my content. 

Tonight, I called a meeting.  I wanted as many of my siblings as possible to get together.  My brother Bill is in South Africa and obviously couldn't meet.  I wanted us to all be in the loop as we discussed treatment options for my dad.  I wanted him to know he HAD options. 

As soon as I heard about my Dad's Mesothelioma diagnosis, I wanted to know what my role should be.  As the youngest of five, I've typically leaned on my siblings for support, information, and counsel.  But, living so far away, I couldn't do much.  I wanted to see everyone - to make sure THEY were okay.   My time in NJ has brought a deluge of emotions.  Every day is a different thought, heck every minute is a different emotion.  But, I wanted to be active.  So, I have been researching, emailing, calling, digging up as much information and support as I can. 

Tonight we discussed five basic options for my Dad.  We wanted him to feel no pressure towards any one, but know that in the face of whatever his PET Scan (it will be this coming Tuesday) should reveal, we have a potential game plan - 5 in fact.  With trembling lip, my Dad reminded us of something that was said in a prayer this morning at church.  We serve the Great Physician.  Are our prayers often just lip-service, or do we really expect God to give us what we want as a loving father does his children?

Dad called us to remember "A lot of these options and questions may be pointless.  What I'm praying for God to do is heal.  People are praying.  I'm praying.  And I'd like to see the doctors baffled at the fact that nothing is there.  It's all gone.  There's nothing there.  NOTHING."  We redirected him to the practicality of having a backup plan.  But, in the midst of our discussion I was smacked.  "I believe, but help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24).

I've begun hanging up all the cards of prayer and encouragement.  We have 2 walls now - one I call the "Wall of Cheer" or the "WOC" and the other the "Juvenile Wall of Cheer" - or the "JuWOC."  My Dad calls it "God's Wall," and says "With this many people praying for me, I have faith that God can do it."  I want this post and this night to be my Ebenezer.  I want to look back at this and think how foolish I was in my disbelief.

TUMBLR sa SCHOOL.. Kahet.. BAWAL ATA ??