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Written by Jim Gerlt
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Tuesday, 08 September 2009 12:09 |
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Last week I made a kamikaze trip to mid Missouri to conduct a grave side memorial service for a cousin-in-law. Melva Maples Rapp came into our family when I was only 5. She married my cousin Hugh, who is 14 years older than me. I thought she was beautiful—and she was. All my teen years I was jealous of my cousin for his “luck” in getting such a pretty wife. Melva was not only pretty on the outside, she was also beautiful on the inside. When they had only been married a few years, my dad helped them and out of gratitude, they bought me a bicycle. It was my first—and only—bicycle. I rode the wheels off that thing. I rode it to all the neighbors selling Christmas cards and various gift items. They were the cool cousins living in the big city (Kansas City) and working at fascinating jobs with Hall Mark Cards. Several times Hugh and Melva invested in me as a teen. Later, after Judy and I married, they also invested in us. Because of ministry demands and geographical distances, we didn’t see each other very often. We always enjoyed our times together when we did connect.
A few years ago Melva was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. This still-beautiful woman of grace and charm began to show the effects of this devastating illness. Then, as if Parkinson’s wasn’t enough, she became afflicted with Alzheimer’s. The Melva with the charm, grace, wit and memory began to fade. Things got very difficult for Hugh and their two sons. My Dad would update me (my Dad is only 10 years older than Hugh—closer in age to Hugh than me) as he called Hugh often. My Dad cared for my Mother during her losing battle with brain cancer and knew first-hand what Hugh was experiencing. The last few weeks of Melva’s life lacked any kind of human-regarded quality. She lost the ability to perform basic things like swallowing. After five days of total-body shutdown, her heart stopped and her soul and spirit were released.
My humanity kicked in and wondered why God allowed such dastardly things to happen to such a godly woman. Hugh and Melva helped start and build two churches in the Kansas City area. There’s no telling how many hours they served or how many lives they impacted. Why Melva? Bad things happen but why to good people?
God showed me something in Hebrews 11:16, when the author wrote: “But as it is, they desire a better country, that is a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for He has prepared a city for them.” Set in context the author was mentioning great saints of old who longed for something better, believing in faith that the something better was actually there. They died without obtaining the something better here on earth. Did you notice the God is not ashamed to be called their God portion of the Scripture? God was fully aware of their struggles but also was fully aware of what He had prepared for them. He was not ashamed to be called their God because He knew what He had prepared for them. God was not ashamed to be called Melva’s God because He could see what she was leaving and what she was gaining. This puts things in perspective. |
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Written by Jim Gerlt
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Friday, 04 September 2009 09:07 |
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Living with cancer is entirely different than knowing someone who has cancer. During my nearly 39 years of being a church staffer, I’ve had my share of ministry to people with cancer. Can’t tell you how many people I’ve sat with on their death bed and waited with them and their families as they lived out their final moments on earth. I’ve observed how families deal with the news that cancer is in their midst. It’s all different when it’s your family whose life gets disrupted with the “C” bomb.
Judy’s/my experience with cancer is teaching us/me a lot we didn’t know and, truthfully, would be just as happy not knowing. One thing we/are I/am learning is to keep our emotions on a more even keel. Reacting to every bit of news from the doctor is much like riding the “Sceamer” at Six Flags. “So sorry, you have cancer,” and we take a major dive; “Good news, we got it all,” and up we go hundreds of feet. “We need to whittle away more flesh to get better margins,” and down we go. “We can get your MRI next week instead of next month” and another upward rush. “We think you should wait a little while before the next surgery” and we’re numb. I’ve decided I don’t like the “Screamer” and instead choose to ride the kiddy rides—much slower and more even keel.
For years I’ve counsel people to apply the Biblical prescription to dealing with emotional issues. Here’s what Paul prescribed over three different letters:
1. Take thoughts captive. 2 Cor. 10:5 (NIV) “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
2. Renew your mind. Romans 12:2 (NIV) “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
3. Tell yourself the truth. Philip. 4:8 (NIV) “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.”
We’ve had plenty of thoughts that need capturing. We’re continually renewing our minds. We’re continually telling ourselves the truth about our situation. We’re struggling—we’re winning—we’re struggling—we’re winning—we’re—well, you get the picture.
Here’s our latest news—and it is good (not going to go over the top emotionally on this one but am celebrating). The top breast cancer doctor at M.D. Anderson is taking a personal interest in our case and is working to get Judy on the schedule NEXT WEEK! next week (reminder to self—don’t go over the top emotionally). Now our calendar for next week is suddenly very fluid and subject to change. Today’s (and every day’s) truth is “God is watching over my precious wife.” Thank You, God! |
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Written by Jim Gerlt
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Thursday, 27 August 2009 14:52 |
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Dr. Richard Swenson wrote a book called Margins a few years ago that challenged my lifestyle. He believes the main reason we have so many problems is that we don’t leave any margin in our lives. For example, if you are following the car in front of you too close and they suddenly stop, you have no margin to allow for your reaction and stopping time and you have a collision. Burn the candle at both ends and you have no margin, or reserves, in your body and a germ gets inside—bam, you’re sick.
“Margin” is also a word cancer surgeons use. They look for margins when they perform surgery. The surgeon who operated on Judy this week didn’t think she had any margins when she removed the enemy tumor from Judy’s body. We have been adjusting to the possibility of more radical treatment. We were also bracing to wait until Monday to hear from the pathologists even though we were told we should have the report in a couple of days. (We’ve learned to not get our hopes up when it comes to medical reports.)
GUESS WHAT? The report came back this morning and THEY GOT IT ALL!!!!!!!!!! We’re now looking at radiation and possibly oral chemotherapy, but no more surgery. The treatment will not be so radical after all. THEY GOT IT ALL! We have margin! Oh happy day, o happy day, when the pathologist called and took our fears away—o happy, happy day. |
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Written by Jim Gerlt
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Wednesday, 26 August 2009 13:33 |
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Isn’t it amazing how one word, one single word, can change things? Or maybe that word doesn’t change anything, just reveals reality. The word that changed our world is the word “cancer.” It stalks every family and caught up with ours last week. Friday we were told the results of Judy’s biopsy and that word entered our domain. We felt like we’d had the wind knocked out of us. We spent Friday evening recovering from the shock wave that had washed over us. Family and friends were notified and we became the conveyor of bad news and messengers of hope. (It’s an interesting role: being both the victim of cancer’s attack and the motivator of hope.)
Sunday night it dawned on me that in some ways things had not really changed. Judy was the same person as she had been the previous Sunday. The difference was in the one word. The previous week she had that invader in her body—we just didn’t know it. The previous week we were looking forward to our 39th wedding anniversary and thinking how we would celebrate. We were strolling down memory lane and reliving the week leading up to the big day. Then came that word. Only one word. It didn’t change anything, just revealed what was growing in Judy—but it changed everything. We’d been talking about growing old together (OK, some of you think we’re already old, so we were talking of growing older together). Surely this can’t be happening to us, but it was/is.
I remember during the Iran/Contra hearings the congressional investigators kept asking, “What did you know and when did you know it?” Not only can knowledge lead to responsibility, the timing of that knowledge can have impact. Friday we got the knowledge conveyed by that one word and the timing stunk.
Today is the day after Judy’s cancer surgery. Today two words have captured our thinking: “clear” and “inconclusive.” The surgeon came from the operating room to deliver her news. The first word, “clear,” referred to the lymph nodes. This is fantastic news! The cancer has not spread. The other word, “inconclusive,” is the stinking word for today. My question of, “Did you get it all—is she now cancer free?” was answered with “inconclusive.” The tumor was much larger than we expected—had tentacles that were growing out. The surgeon doesn’t know if she got it all. Now we wait again to hear from a team of pathologists to answer our remaining question. We hope for the best but are bracing for the worst. We do know we can handle whatever news comes because of the word “clear.” With the cancer contained, we can live—did you catch that—we can livewith the post operative procedures.
So many of our friends were so compassionate Sunday. So many spoke words of comfort, of compassion, of hope, and of understanding. So many words! So many comforting words. So many words of blessing. Yes, there is power in words. God spoke the world into being—that’s powerful. You spoke hope into our hearts. That’s also powerful. Never underestimate the power of your spoken word to help or to hurt and chose your words carefully. |
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Written by Jim Gerlt
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Monday, 24 August 2009 14:23 |
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Our English language is one of the most difficult languages to learn. Oh, if we’re born here we learn it as we grow and it seems normal. But for a person born in a country that speaks another language, English is challenging. Case in point, our homonyms. The Encarta Dictionary defines homonyms as “a word that is spelled or pronounced in the same way as one or more other words but has a different meaning.” Wait and weight are examples. Wait refers to time and weight reflects the pull of gravity. We measure time with a clock and weight with a scale. Friday I discovered they are synonyms.
In the normal course of events, Judy had her annual mammogram and doctor’s visit. The mammogram was normal but the doctor found a lump in her breast. Nearly certain that the lump was just fatty tissue, but not wanting to take a chance, he referred her to a surgeon who scheduled a sonogram. We had the sonogram last Tuesday. Fully expecting the sonogram to confirm our hopes of a fatty tissue, we were surprised when the attending physician declared it to not be a cyst and got ready to perform a biopsy. He pulled out a needle the length of a small yacht. As he worked I was convinced he was going to give us added value for our money and remove her appendix as well. It looked like a deep probe to get the tissue. Judy was incredible during the procedure, returned to work and stayed until 8:00 P.M. WITHOUT A PAIN PILL! We were told we’d have the biopsy results by Thursday.
So the wait began. I’ve often said waiting is the toughest thing we do. When the report hadn’t arrived by mid-afternoon of Thursday, Judy called without results. Friday morning came and went—without news. The wait was getting uncomfortable. Judy confessed she was preparing herself for bad news since the report was so late in coming. She knew the referring surgeon who ordered the sonogram would be the one making the call if the news was bad and since it was getting late, the office staff probably was waiting on the surgeon to finish rounds and make the obligatory phone calls. Judy, as usual, was right.
The call came around 2:30 Friday afternoon and that’s when I discovered “wait” and “weight” are synonyms. While the waiting was uncomfortable, the news was painful. “Cancer.” Suddenly the wait was over but we felt a heavy weight. Usually, when the wait is over, you feel better. I can’t say that is true for us. I also realize that the cancer might be in her body, but we have cancer.
Tomorrow (August 25) Judy will have the lumpectomy and lymph node biopsy. Again we’ll encounter the time of wait while the tissue is evaluated. Again we’ll realize the weight of waiting. And through it all, we’ll experience the hand of God—as we already have—and not have to carry the weight of wait by ourselves. |
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