Psalm 130
A song of ascents. 1Out of the
depths I cry to you, Lord; 2Lord, hear
my voice. Let
your ears be attentive
to
my cry for mercy.
3If
you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord,
who could stand?
4But with
you there is forgiveness, so
that we can, with reverence, serve you.
5I wait for
the Lord, my whole being waits, and
in his word I put my hope.
6I wait for
the Lord more
than watchmen wait for the morning,
more
than watchmen wait for the morning.
7Israel,
put your hope in the Lord, for
with the Lord's unfailing love
and
with him is full redemption.
8He himself
will redeem Israel from
all their sins.
##################
It is ironic that a
recorded book should be the final nudge.
JA Jance is one of our favorite mystery writers and Ginny and I listened
to the first in a series she wrote around a "new" character. In the story the protagonist uses a blog as a
way of journaling her life and finding expression for her thoughts during a
particularly chaotic part of her life.
For the last few
months I have been considering my "silence" over the last two to
three years. In the early years of my
diagnosis of cancer (multiple myeloma, a form of blood cancer that is incurable
but controllable to a certain extent) I was quite chatty. I felt that I needed to share my journey in
dealing with this dread disease and for the first three years things were
relatively good. It was easier to talk
about the treatment process when it looked like we were holding the line
against this greedy monster. Then
reality struck; shortly after I made a wonderful visit to my sister Hilary
MacInnis' house on Vancouver Island, BC.
Ironically near the end of that visit my hemoglobin had begun to fall and I
experienced an incident that I thought was some kind of heart attack. It turned out to be shortness of breath and
a-fibrillation brought on by a steep drop in my hemoglobin. I was short of breath and fatigued more than
usual. After returning to the States I
began a series of transfusions every time my hemoglobin dropped below 8 (yours
should run around 13-14. ) To date I have had nearly 10 transfusions.
Simply put, the
cancer returned with a vengeance and the effort to keep me drug free
ended. What then began were various
attempts to put the genie back in the bottle including a stretch of using
Thalidomide which ended last fall.
During the past 12 months I have had 8 transfusions and am deeply grateful for all the people who
have donated this precious gift of life.
The last treatment twist was to move me up to one of the newest drugs in
the battle to stabilize my immune system: kyprolis/carphilsomib given in conjunction with Revlimid and
dexamethazone.
I was initially very
hopeful because the new combination had proved to be the silver bullet that
drove a number of refractive patients
like me into near remission. It has not
been the case for me and this past week's transfusion was the final stake in
the heart of that solution as far as I am concerned. I at this point have no idea what is next and my doctor is in fact considering
handing me off to one of his younger colleagues who has been working with some of the more advanced treatment
combinations. The underlying problem, however, is that I am non-secretory, i.e.
the "normal" markers for the disease do not show up in my blood. So I'm on the playground with my own ball and
no one wants to play.
And the point is???
You may have noticed
the phrase "initially very hopeful" and that is the crux of the
matter. Hope is harder to get hold of as
the time goes by. It is much easier to reflect
on God's purposes when the game is going in your direction; it takes something
else to hang on and declare with David, "…yet will I praise Him.."
when you find yourself rubbing elbows with road kill. What kind of edification is there is
discouragement?
And that is how we
come to this point. I have been feeling
the urging of the Lord to pick up the story again and to tell it like it is,
warts and all. I have felt a growing distance
from Jesus and a rich vein of resentment that is easily tapped. Of course, the sane, saved part of me knows
that this is crazy, childish and all too human.
While I find myself a committed opponent of the theology of "cheap
grace", I also find myself desperately clinging to the fact that I am
"saved, sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost" regardless of my
feelings of alienation from that same unqualified source of love and
acceptance.
Ex profundis clamavi ad te dominem. Domine, exaudi orationem
meam. Ps 130:1-2
Hope I got the Latin
correct Fr. North! "Out of the
depths I cry unto thee O Lord. Lord,
hear my prayer." My thoughts may
not be particularly enthusiastic or edifying, but they will the honest
ramblings of one who finds himself deeper in the Valley of the Shadow of Death
than before and looking urgently for signs of the Good Shepherd.
This is my journey;
this is my story.
Foster