On facing mortality

On July 9th, 2012 I received a diagnosis of prostate cancer and was told of my options in a fast moving, mostly one-way discussion with the urologist that I have been seeing for several years. I'm grateful for his diligence and care. It would appear my cancer has been detected early, but we will know more after surgery to remove my prostate gland on Aug 20th.. My faithful wife of more than 40 years was with me to hear the diagnosis, and I know this has impacted her with emotions that I can't really appreciate. And my own mental and emotional struggle over these last few weeks is something she can't full appreciate either. Nevertheless, we will support each other and walk through this time with God's help. I have felt very private about the matter and did not tell many outside my immediate family at first. Gradually I am adjusting to the idea of disclosing the diagnosis. It's not as though I somehow feel it could be kept a secret. Maybe it's silly. Perhaps it's selfish. And right now I am not finding words for this feeling. Anyway, the options presented were: 1) active surveilance which would involve blood tests every 3 months and a biopsy every 6 month, a year or whenever the PSA count indicated. I did not feel I could live with the knowledge of cancer growing and not knowing when it might find its way elsewhere in my body. My elderly father is latter stages with this same disease which was not detected early enough to treat, and I don't want that same result for myself. 2) radiation therapy involves implanting three gold seeds in my prostate. These would act like a vectoring system to guide the radiation treatments which would occur daily for 5 days per week and 4 to 6 weeks. After that PSA tests would continue to monitor levels to determine whether the cancer and prostate were successfully killed. If not, it could then result in surgery which would be more complicated due to the radiation. I did not like this option at all. 3) robotic surgery to remove the prostate seemed to be the least of evils for me. A specialist in this procedure will operate utilizing the Davinci robotic system to remove the prostate gland and some surrounding tissue for pathology analysis. With this method the results are more definitely known, and we should know if the cancer is contained within the gland. With either the surgery option or the radiation option there exists the possibility of impotence or incontinence. Love words, aren't they? This is the part I suppose that I'm struggling with. And the incontinence issue troubles me more than the other. In our discussions with my urologist and with the surgeon we talked about percentages or chances that either of these complications would occur and the chances for cure, etc. But the numbers don't mean much if I'm one of the guys that has the complication. And after surgery I will have incontinence for a period of time. How quickly that improves and to what extent will remain to be seen. Ok, enough of that. What are my feelings? Let's see.. Anger? I don't think so. Not really aware of it. Fear? Yeah, somewhat. Who wants to wear incontinence products? Sadness? May have some of this as well. Our lives are about to change forever. Confusion? I'm pretty definite about my decision on the options. Although my older brother would probably have me trust God for miraculous healing. And my aging parents, bless their hearts, would probably take the head-in-the-sand approach. Not that I discount God's ability to do so, but I just don't sense that He is going to do that. Frustration? Irritability? My wife could attest to these I think. I think now I just want to get the surgery behind me know that the cancer is removed successfully. Or should there be cancer outside the gland then we will deal with it and go from there. On the positive side of the ledger, there are much, much worse diagnoses one could receive. We need not list them. And let's be honest, we all have a terminal disease; it's called mortality. And I'm thankful for the advancements made in treating this disease in recent years. So this is a time for me to do some self examination and think about how I should live from here on. I need to get to work on that. I pray the Lord Jesus Christ would be my guide, my counsel, friend and companion. Lord Jesus, I do need you.

A Christmas Eve Prayer

Lord, as I consider this time of year how the days are short, the nights are long, the cold air, I think what a time for Christmas! We need your miracle this time of year.

And I think how you came to us. Why, surely the Father could have sent you to a wealthy family with a fine home with servants and nice furnishings. Or at least maybe to a family with influence and position. But you came to experience the sting of poverty, need.

Or could you have come in a different age, like this one in which we have heated and air conditioned homes, refrigerators stocked with a variety of food. But you came to experience hardship.

Did you have to come to a carpenter's home? How about an accountant or a physician -- maybe you could have been "white collar" instead of blue. But you came to experience blisters on your hands learning to use a hammer. The same hands would feel the hammer in a different way...

Did you have to come as a Jew? Why not a Roman? After all they were in charge and had all the influence, power. But no, you came to experience the sting of human disdain -- racism by any other name.

Holy Father, was there another way to save the world, an easier way perhaps? I don't know, but you chose to experience everything human that I might experience everything heavenly. Thank you sounds so cheap, Lord. Thank you.

But for those lonely, depressed, needy at this time dear Savior, I pray your shining light of hope, forgiveness, redemption. Oh Lord that our "sad divisions" might be healed. That our seed of bitterness be removed. That your generosity would overwhelm my selfishness. That peace would come to the angry, light would shine for the depressed, a friend for the lonely, reconciliation for the estranged. A place for all not only at your manger but also at your cross.

Thoughts on the demise of bin Laden

We had been watching something else on TV and switched to a news channel to catch the 10PM news. Seeing the caption that told me Usama bin Laden had been killed in a raid was too much to realize for a few seconds.

After just a few minutes it became clear this was more than rumor and that the figure head of Al Qaeda and perpetrator of the attacks of September 11 was indeed dead. It did not take long for noisy crowds to gather in front of the White House and in New York, chanting, dancing and celebrating this event.

While this news is undoubtedly positive for the US and indeed for the free world, my feelings were not toward fist pumps, high fives or war whoops. I almost immediately turned to my wife and said, "that man just stepped into eternity to meet the Judge", and she had the same sentiment.

Others have a different feeling and they are certainly allowed not only that feeling but the right to express it. I would just like to express mine.

Maybe if this happened sooner after 911 I would feel differently, but as it is, it has given me pause and I'm troubled by our cavalier attitude about human life, and how quickly we can condemn individuals based on our own personal judgement.

Admittedly, it's easy to look at the massive loss of life on 911 and the other attacks before and since and condemn this man to death. But what about me? What about you? Are you without sin so that you can cast the first stone? I think we have a tendency to compare ourselves to 'heinous criminals' and somehow feel much better ourselves.

The Bible teaches a very different standard. If we break one of His laws we are guilty and thereby condemned to death. That's a standard too great for us, so He provided a way for us to be saved from this condemnation.

Don't get me wrong; I'm glad the man has been removed. I just don't feel like celebrating. And I am so grateful that God is a completely righteous judge and the he never changes. I can put my trust in Him. While radical Islam has sent its sons to die for their cause, our God sent HIS son to die so that I would not have to. That is something I can celebrate.

My Mother

I had recently been asking my Mother to write down some stories from her younger days, and she typed this one out for my birthday. Let me share it here for my family. It represents a different era -- World War II was looming large. I'll need to re-type what she wrote, so here it is...

"All you requested is a story.

Since your birthday is near, here's one.

On a summer day in about 1944, when I was 16, my mother was not at home, leaving me, the oldest of 5 kids, sort of in charge. Gladys only two years younger & Alven next in age didn't always want big sister bossing.

But this was different. James had driven his strip down Ford in our drive. It was his pride and joy - he and a friend, Robert Pass, had done a super paint job on it. Zebra stripes no less!

Oh, I forgot to say James was my boyfriend and I thought he hung the moon! My knight in shining armour. Anyway this car was truly a strip down. No body. It had front and back seat both with wooden bench seats. Now mind you about this same time I was working over in North Dallas at a Wyatts Cafeteria & he wanted to come pick me up after work but I told him not to in that strip down Ford! I didn't want to ride in it or be seen in it. My girl friend Margie Flemming worked with me and we would ride the bus and transfer to the streetcar and another bus.

Well as I said this was different. At James suggestion he drove us all on a long drive out the Naval Base. Grand Prairie, I think. We never once considered it dangerous! It was great fun. Since Billie and Hulen were the youngest they sat in the back between Gladys and myself. Alven sat in the front seat with James. Of course he consdered James his special friend and looked up to him as an older boy.

Through the years I often think of it as a fun thing even though not wise!

Such was our growing up. I don't remember what my mother said when she came home..."

Cousins

Cousins are just the best playmates when you're a kid!

Tonia, Sandra and Michael (not born yet in this 'snapshot') are cousins on my Dad's side. Their parents were my Uncle Leon and Aunt Earlene and they lived in Dallas as we did when we all were little. Most of my memories playing with them was on Harlandale Street in Dallas where Granny and Grandad Hogan lived.

That place had a certain mystery to me. It was an old house, and I remember being a little afraid of the closets -- that's kind of funny now! What fun we had playing in the expansive back yard, just playing the simplest of kid games: chase, Simon says, or something we made up. Did you ever play Doodlebug? The ground under the carport cover was unpaved and soft sandy dirt just right for doodlebugs. You would see those distinct round shapes in the dirt that only a doodlebug can make. Take a small stick, stir it around in the circle and say, "doodlebug, doodlebug, come out, come out! Your house is on fire!". And then you watch the little creature begin thumping the dirt out of his tiny house once again. What? You never played that? At five years of age it's great entertainment!

I loved Tonia and Sandra a lot, maybe because I had no sisters. Or maybe just because we were cousins. Tonia Ann was a year older and had an early motherly instinct that included me. When I started to school in the first grade at Roger Q Mills Elementary School she was a grade ahead of me and would accompany me on the walk home in the afternoons. (Yes, we were allowed to walk alone to and from school at that young age!) Tonia's duties, she felt, also included giving me an occasional kiss, something I was not used to! I reported this daily activity to my Mother, who talked to Aunt Earlene who told Tony to please stop kissing Gary -- he doesn't like it! When I see her to this day we laugh.

Carol and JR were cousins on my Mother's side. Aunt Gladys and Uncle John lived on a dry-land farm in Littlefield, which is out in the table mesa of the Texas Panhandle. It's so flat out there you could stand on the roof of your car and see the next county. Of course, in those days the steel in the cars was heavy enough you could actually do that -- if you were a kid.

I'm standing on the bumper here of my dad's '49 Pontiac, JR's in the middle, just a year younger than me and Carol just a year older. I loved my time with these cousins, especially if we were visiting them in West Texas. We lived in Dallas, and there all sorts of attractions on the farm: tractors, tools, and wide open space. Make all the noise you want! Throw rocks! No problem!

David is actually my half uncle, born late in life to my maternal grandmother who we called Ma and her husband who was Pa. David was about JR's age, just younger than me so we were raised like cousins. They lived in nearby Lubbock, so the four of us often spent time together. David is on the left in the photo, with JR underneath and Revis on the right. Revis was the only child of my Uncle Alvin (one of my mothers brothers).

Certain alliances form quite naturally when you put four of five kids together, and Carol and I were buds and JR and David would inevitably team up as our opponents. One time we decided we needed a swimming pool. Now if you know anything about that part of Texas you understand there is no dirt -- just sand and lots of it. So we grab shovels out of the shed, pick a nice spot nearby and start digging. After we had dug a hole big enough to bury a Volkswagen we began to wonder whether it would hold water. Ha! So much for planning!

Anyway, we ended up with a pile of really nice dirt clods, because as you dig deeper you get into wetter soil. Someone decided a dirt clod fight would be fun, so it did not take long to choose sides: Carol and me versus JR and David. We built some sort of shelter about throwing distance from each other, gathered a pile of ammunition and started chunking. Red dirt clods were flying! It was the mother of all backyard wars. Carol had a pretty good arm, being a farm girl with experience at chopping cotton and such. Before long one of us nailed David right in the head and he went in the house crying and ruined the whole thing. The mom's came out and put an end to the contest. It was about then they noticed a gaping hole located more or less in the driveway. Apparently we should have chosen a better site. Plying our shovels to fill in that monster hole we dug was not near as much fun as digging it!

JR, David and Revis are all gone much too soon, as is Michael who died just a couple of years ago after a cancer battle. Wish I had another day with each of them. And I need to stay in touch with my girl cousins!

Some Childhood Antics

One of my best childhood friendships, and longest lasting, would have to be Robert Earl. His family and mine went to the same church, Oak Cliff Assembly of God in Dallas. We didn’t live in the same neighborhood so we never attended the same schools. I was probably nine or ten years old when we became acquainted and starting going to each other’s house on a Sunday afternoon and then for sleep-overs.
Robert seemed a little quiet and introverted, but he had an interesting sense of adventure which resulted in our getting into trouble occasionally. Now, one of the things I found unjust at that age was that getting into trouble for Robert usually resulted in a ‘talking to’, while my trouble was frequently more severe and physical. It just did not seem right, you know.

One of our antics went something like this. I was at Robert’s house one nice summer day when he recalled that back in the winter time we had one of those snowy days that occur once in a blue moon in north Texas. We had made some fantastic snow balls and saved a few in his Mom’s deep freeze. We decided to take them out and have some fun chunking them at passing cars, not realizing, of course, that over the course of a few months in the freezer they had become harder than rock. Well, we nailed an unsuspecting motorist who screeched to a halt in front of Robert’s house, jumped out the car threatened us with I can’t remember what, at which point we went in the house and proclaimed what a sourpuss the man was.

Curious thing how Robert’s Mom seldom seemed to be aware of the things that went on. I don’t know what she was doing most of the time. She was there but not present. What a sweet lady she was. Her name was Effie and most of her family was from the Sherman/Denison area of north Texas. That’s where Robert lives now with his aging father, William. William was tall, soft spoken and a gentle man, and I often wished my dad were more like him, especially when Robert got one of those ‘talking to’s’ and I got something else!

At that young age we were unaware that we were extreme nerds. We often dressed alike, wore the same kind of glasses. I remember, with a certain amount of discomfort now, going to the roller rink near my house dressed exactly alike and happily roller skating with my friend Robert. Oh well, maybe people just thought we were twins.

Funny thing about Robert; he was a perfectionist at an early age about certain things. For instance, he had no surprises on Christmas morning because he went shopping with his mom and picked out his gifts to make sure he got exactly what he wanted. It had to be the right brand, the right color and so forth. Otherwise it just would not do. I observed this eccentricity right up to adulthood and am pretty sure it’s the reason Robert never married. We’ve maintained loose contact over the years but I still consider him a good friend and an important part of my growing up years.

Wayne Mershawn was another friend I met at church at about the same age. We also maintained friendship to adulthood but have lost contact in more recent years. He and his now wife, Becky, and Vicki and I used to double-date on occasion. Actually Becky and I dated before she and Wayne became interested in one another. Well, when I say date it was probably sitting together at a church youth function and maybe holding hands.

One of my fond memories was watching “The Wizard of Oz” for the first time at Wayne’s house. My folks were generally opposed to movies and I certainly had never been to a theatre, and I don’t believe I had ever watched a full length feature. I think Wayne’s mom made popcorn and hot chocolate and we enjoyed watching that classic movie on their TV (black and white, of course).

I thought Wayne’s parents were very odd. His mom was rather heavy set, a little masculine but awfully good to her children. And she made sure I had a good time at their house. I remember her telling Wayne to be considerate of ‘his company’ (that was me). She worked full time outside the home which was not all that common in those days. His dad was nice enough but a little effeminate, something I noticed even at a young age. So Wayne’s mom wore the pants in the family to use his own words. Anyway, Wayne turned out to be a very fine man, married Becky and had two or three kids.

Speaking of movies, I just thought of another time I got in trouble in my teen years – yes, with Robert Earl. I think I was 16 and had a driver’s license but was on a short leash with my parents. We concocted some lie to get access to the car one evening and went downtown to a move theatre to watch a double feature; James Bond in ”007” and “Goldfinger”. I honestly cannot remember a single thing about either movie. In fact I was so upset about lying and fearing for my very soul that I think I insisted we leave early. The next day my mother found the theatre stub in one of my pockets, and gave it to my dad. The next few days were intense to say the least. I still remember the hot flush to my cheeks when confronted and the guilt I felt for deceiving my parents.

Gerald and I got into trouble a few times as well. One of our hide-outs was up the street to the railroad track, then north on the tracks for maybe a mile to this wooded area with a pond. There was also this cliff where a main thoroughfare, Davis Boulevard I think, went under the railroad track. I can still see the white chalk rock of that area and there were rocks in abundance. What possessed the two of us I am not sure, but we decided to roll this nice sized boulder over the edge and watch it splatter on the pavement below. (Children, do not try this at home!) We really did not intend to hit a passing car, honest. The unfortunate driver's timing was perfect, and it hit square in the right side doors and made a heck of dent. I remember the "thunk" sound and then the screeching tires bringing the vehicle to a stop. Gerald and I took one look at each other and without saying a word took off running like bank robbers toward the pond where we hung out until we felt it might be safe to emerge. Walking home that afternoon we were definitely looking over our guilty shoulders.

Perhaps I should have chosen my friends a little more carefully! These guys were a bad influence!

Life has Chapters

I've always viewed life has having chapters -- not quite distinct but somewhat overlapping.

Vicki and I have enjoyed so much this chapter with young grandchildren, four of them, and their wonderful parents. I'm continually impressed with my children, their character, intelligence and their faith. It's so inspiring to see them as mature adults and doing a wonderful job with their families. I love my son-in-law and my daughter-in-law terribly. We are indeed blessed!

Anyone who knows me knows I'm wild about my grandkids. I always knew I would enjoy being a grandfather, but it's one of those aspects of life one must experience to fully understand. One of my grandson's birthday is today. Jackson is six years old! A wonderful day.

At the same time today I'm sitting in Dad's hospital room awaiting a heart procedure. I will always remember the strong little carpenter father of my childhood. His hands were work hardened and his forearms were large and sort of made look like Popeye. And he was just about that strong. In those days if he fell from a rafter he might grab hold with one hand on the way down to break his fall. He could hoist a 12 inch 16 footer and walk off with it like nothing, humming along as he frequently did. He hummed certain tunes, but only certain phrases of them. A lot of times a great hymn of the church or maybe Glen Campbell's "Wichita Lineman". You would hear the same phrase of the tune over and over again. When he would swing a hammer the tune would be interrupted with a grunt and then the tune would continue. I only worked with him a few times. One of my brother's, Duane, worked with him for many years and no doubt could add his observations, but all of us witnessed his work ethic, his diligence and his integrity. Great gifts.

It's hard to see him older and the body failing. But his mind is good and his faith in his Lord unflinching, and that is a great comfort to us all, his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and extended family.

So my dear wife and I are in that chapter of life where we can enjoy our offspring, and at the same time cherish the days the Lord ordains remaining for our aging parents and do our best to watch after them, do what we can to help them through the waning years. I'm not wanting to brutal, just honest. Tomorrow is not guaranteed for any of us, and from this perspective the cycle of life is somewhat evident.

We just celebrated the Christmas holidays and were able to spend time with Vicki's dad and stepmom. Vicki's dad is also in his eighties and has similarly a failing body but a good mind. Thank the Lord for good minds. I think of my friends suffering with parents in latter stages of Alzheimers and am greatful. Lord help us to keep our perspective and to keep our eyes on you, no matter what this chapter holds. I pray health, peace and mercy for our parents and our extended families.