Fall... The Beauty of Letting Go

Praying for Release

Autumn, urge me to drop every leaf I don't need -
every task of habit I repeat past its season,
every sorrow I rehearse,
each unfulfilled hope I recall,
every person or possession to which I cling -
until my branches are bare,
until I hold fast to nothing.

Blow me about in your wild iron sky,
crush all that's puffed up,
fluff all that in me needs to go to seed,
send my shadows to sleep.

Tutor me through straining night winds
in the passion of moan and pant,
the gift of letting go at the moment of most abundance-
in the way of falling apples, figs, maple leaves, pecans.

Open my eyes to your languid light,
let me stare in your face
until I see no difference between soar and fall,
until I recognize eternity in single breaths,
faint whispers of cool air through lungs.

Show me the way of dying in glorious boldness -
Yellow, gold orange, rust, red burgundy, brown.

Exultation, a Poem Cycle in
Celebration of the Seasons
by Monza Naff
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Cancer, Death and the Daunting Question, Why?

Judy Moss died this morning at 8:00 am. I wrote my thoughts down last week after visiting her in ICU but didn’t get them in my blog before she died. My words are inadequate but I pray you will get a glimpse of this generous, gracious woman who loved well. As I reflect upon her life and her death she remains a wounded healer.

My friend Judy is dying of cancer. I met Judy after her children, Mike Moss (B9) and Liz Moss (B23) went through Barnabas. Immediately, I found her to be kind and accepting. Theologically, she is probably more conservative than I am but she has accepted me with enduring grace and unconditional love. Though we never spent much time together, when I was diagnosed with cancer last year, I received a card from her with a check in it to help with my medical bills. When I began treatments she sent a wooden cross to me to hold during chemo. When her daughter Liz came by to check on me during my illness she told me that her Mom wanted to know how I was feeling and how my family, particularly Ricardo, was holding up through my illness. Judy was doing all this while fighting her own battle as cancer was spreading throughout her body.

Watching her journey over the last few years and seeing the torment she is now enduring ignites anger in me which asks, “So what are you doing now Lord?????” Clearly in my humanity I cannot understand how God interacts with such evil tragedies like death by cancer. Seeing her in ICU today it's hard to believe she is still alive with so little left of her physical body. Yet her spirit is clearly alive and her countenance is the same as it was before she got sick: kind, humble, thoughtful and full of faith. Many would say that the Spirit of God is always evident in her presence.

Too often Christians comfort themselves or others with beliefs such as, “God has a purpose which will be revealed later” or “this must be God’s will.” I don’t buy it. Surely the creator of the universe and the lover of our souls doesn’t sit on a throne as a parent unmoved by His children’s pain. Surely our God of grace doesn’t roam the earth deciding what illness or tragedy should be assigned to certain families. I’m not willing to get into a theological argument about what God planned or even foreknew. No one can answer the overwhelming question of “why?” If they try, they haven’t suffered.

So what is true in all of this? What is God doing? He is present. And that presence fills the room with peace. His presence lifts my heart out of the questions and calms me. God’s presence is tangible as He waits for Judy to be ready. When that time comes, the absence of her Spirit in the room will be deafening. Our memories will return to life before cancer and we will be comforted by the life she lived. Her family will grieve deeply because of her physical absence but will be grateful her suffering is over.

For now, those of us who stand by them can offer our presence and that will be enough.
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Dancing With Fear

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted because I’m actually living after surviving chemotherapy. I’ve heard many say they never felt the symptoms of cancer; it’s the treatment that almost killed them. I agree, however, the chemo has given me life, at least for now. The “at least for now” sounds rather cynical, but I’m afraid of calling myself a cancer survivor. I’ve read stories of women who survived breast cancer only to see it resurface with a vengeance.

I just read Elizabeth Edwards book Resilience, thinking I would gain strength from her hope in the midst of several traumatic events, cancer being one of them. Instead, her words felt almost prophetic. Here is a quote from her book…

“The cancer was back. Well, I suppose the doctors would say it had never really gone. I thought the chemo chased it away... But it only chased away the big pieces; the smallest of pieces had stayed, hidden from the scans, too small for imaging: they had stayed and then grown. And now, here it was again, now grown, now in its new home. No longer in my breast, it had spread to my bones, maybe my lungs and maybe my liver. And it wasn’t leaving. Not ever. In that moment when I found out for certain that I would have cancer in me every single day until one day it finally took my life, all the reasons to live and the reasons to die, the way to live if I could, all danced before me, twirling, enticing until I chose a partner from among them. Live. Die. Fight. Curl up. Look for a hug. Give a hug. Cry. Cry. Cry.” Elizabeth Edwards

Though cancer is the obvious comparison, I’ve been thinking about how all of life entices us to choose a "partner from among them.” With Edwards cancer reoccurrence, “live, die, fight, curl up, look for a hug, give a hug, cry, cry, cry” are reasonable dance partners. As believers in Jesus or having faith in God, we have additional partners to choose from (faith, hope, trust, etc…) but we still have to choose who we will dance with and what message we will dance to.

Sometimes I feel a little psychotic because I seem to change partners more often than not. One day, I am dancing with “hope and faith." Then, without notice or because of some small trigger from my past, I will spend the day or days dancing with “fear and doubt”. Today, fear of hidden cancer, sadness from the recent death of a friend and merely trying to stay the course are enticing me to dance with fear.

Thankfully, my job requires me to stay engaged. Being a part of authentic community and believing my life has purpose sent fear back to the wall. It’s amazing how those two things can pull me out of the fetal position. Within five hours, I have changed dance partners again.

If you find yourself being enticed by fear, sometimes you have to walk through it. Ironically, dancing with fear and doubt usually lead to faith and hope. Other times, being with people (get out of the house) and having enough faith to simply do the next right thing will bring renewed hope.

Who are you dancing with today? There’s not a “right” answer to this question. My encouragement is to put words to the feelings rather than falling in a hole wondering why it’s difficult to get through the day. The dance of fear is always waiting to “cut in.” If the lesson is in the fear, walk on. If not, call someone, go out and live what you are passionate about and as always… do the next right thing.

FYI… as God would have it; I met with someone today who has worked in oncology for years. Her advice, “studies show that people who have a positive attitude, have some form of spiritual life and laugh often have a lower reoccurrence rate than those who don’t.” Go figure.
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"MIMI, WHAT'S THIS?"

With total innocence my precious grandson uttered these words while sitting in my lap playing with the skin around my neck. As he was flipping the loose skin from side to side, I calmly told him, “Honey, that’s Mimi’s neck.” Response, “What’s wong wif you neck Mimi?” I abruptly ended the conversation with, “Mimi is old Adam!!!”

Several years ago I laughed as I read Nora Ephron’s book, I Feel Bad About My Neck. I’m not laughing anymore. I have a chicken neck and am fearful the next step is the rooster neck. The thing about the neck is, you can’t cover it up. I can’t see me sporting a fashionable silk scarf around my neck. May it never be!

I have concluded that there is nothing I can do about my fallen neck so I will simply avoid looking in the mirror. The frightening thing is that others can see it clearly while I try to live in denial. I wonder what other areas of my life I may be avoiding while they are visible to others. The last few years have taught me a lot about embracing parts of my life that I didn't want to see. I had three choices: denial, change or acceptance. This prayer has become a helpful guide when I am willing to embrace my humanity and reach for peace.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

I’m still not happy about my neck!

• What areas of your life do you avoid? Is it time to face the truth? Are you willing to make necessary changes or is it something that requires acceptance?


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If You Are Uncomfortable With the Word Breast, You Might Not Want To Read This Blog

For 53 years breasts were a non issue for me. They didn’t seem particularly important and I had very little use for them. On April 21, 2009 these six words changed my life: “Ms. Freeman you have Breast Cancer.” Since then my life has been controlled by the right breast, also known as the mutinous, insubordinate, defiant appendage. It has been poked, prodded, cut, filled with a balloon and then burned and fried. And as if that wasn’t enough this one breast led to the rest of my body being poisoned with every white blood cell murdered only to be resurrected in three weeks and murdered again, over and over and over. The final blow was becoming a sick bald woman in bed for six months at the mercy of my wonderful caretakers.

Announcement, drum role, listen up… Today, one year later, the prodigal breast has come home! This morning I went for my one year anniversary mammogram and the film was clear of any signs of cancer. My surgeon put up the two films to compare last years to todays. The ugly white blob that was splattered on last years X-Ray was gone.

Like the winter season, the cancer had to die before new life could be born. Spring is here and new life is present. I have no idea how God brings forth life from death, heals the sick parts of us (He has been working on my mind for thirty years) and replaces fear and pain with joy. As I was speechless a year ago when I exited the doctor’s office, I am speechless again.

Thanks to all of you for traveling this journey with me. I will go for mammograms every three months for several years and realize that reoccurrence may come. But for today this prodigal has come home and I am about to kill the fatted calf!

I encourage you to consider what parts of you have been lost this past year. Did something in your life have to die before you could experience new life? Have the illusions that were created by your ego and misguided belief that we are actually in control fallen to the ground so that God could show you something beautiful that is built on the truth of His love and grace?

Don’t miss the spring. Maybe new life is pushing through the earth to create a beautiful garden full of God’s glory. My springtime is symbolized by these tiny white hairs pushing through the surface of my bald head. I am learning to appreciate all different kinds of flowers that come in spring. What a difference a year makes.


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HE IS RISEN

I Know My Redeemer Lives
by Nicole C. Mullen & performed by one of my hero's, Sharifa

Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning
Who told the ocean you an only come this far?
Who showed the moon where to hide 'til evening
Whose words alone can catch a falling star?

Well I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
All of creation testify
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives

The very same God that spins things in orbit
He runs to the weary, the worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken
They conquered death to bring me victory

Now I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
Let this life within me cry
I know my Redeemer lives

He lives to take away my shame
And He lives forever I'll proclaim
That the payment for my sin
Was the precious life He gave
But now He's alive
And there's an empty grave.

And I know my Redeemer, He lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives


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Remembering Holy Week

Saturday

Earlier in the week, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

Where was Jesus from Friday night through Sunday morning? Many people claim they know but who could say. The only thing that matters is that redemption was put into place.

One thing that is so “God-like” is that something divine and holy was going on because of death. Part of the incredible mystery of God is what happens when something falls to the ground and dies. We see it in our seasons when the seeds fall to the ground in autumn and dies in the winter’s cold. It takes the winter, it takes death before spring is allowed to rise up with all of its beauty. A transformation occurs that no one can explain. Life is born out of death. Suffering gives birth to Joy. Jesus died so we could live.

For me, all growth and new life has come from something in my life that had to die. It is not a one time event. Relationships die and give birth to new ones. The world that I create to in order to try and control my life falls apart and forces me to trust God. I have learned in the winter of my life, in the days between life and resurrection, God does a work that only He can do. I don’t invite it and often cry out, God if there is another way…

• What deep pain and suffering in your life has given birth to something beautiful?

• What are you trying to keep alive so that you can maintain the illusion you are in control?

• What has had to die inside of you for new life to be born?

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