Keep On Walking

I came back to our rental apartment in Durham, having spent the day sitting beside Michael who was a day past brain surgery to remove a recurrent tumor from the front of his head.

As I kicked off my shoes and sank down on the chintzy cloth-covered couch I heard a deep groan and a wail. Where did that come from? Except for me the apartment was empty. It must have come from a place in me I didn't know existed.

Man. This is a hard road to navigate. I had kissed Michael good-night and told him, “I love you”. He had looked at me with blank eyes. “Do you love me?” I had asked him. A monotone voice replied, “Yes, I love you.” I guess it was just too much that day. I sat crying. Loudly. Hoping no one in the other apartments was listening. Knowing Someone was.  

Most days I breathe deep. Sometimes those deep breaths turn into rock-heavy sighs that land with a thud in the bottom of my gut. My eyes brim over moistening my cheeks.  

My cheeks are probably marked with a permanent salt stain.

I have recently been listening to the music of david m. bailey David grew up, like me, the child of Presbyterian missionaries. I followed news of him as he fought brain cancer for nearly 14 years. He documented his journey (not exclusively about brain cancer) through music, but I didn't want to listen to it because it might make me cry. Now I listen. And cry. Of course, it's not all sad songs. A few weeks ago I nodded my head as I listened, and listened again, to Keep on Walking. And I said to myself, "yes. I need to keep on walking." So I have moved forward with the work that I have heard God ask me to do.

I'm starting slowly and locally. A group of five friends asked me to walk them through a program of trauma healing. We have started meeting weekly and will walk through the American Bible Society's book Healing the Wounds of Trauma: How the Church Can Help. For me it is a sort of practice - how to work with people who clearly understand English and need no translation! And of getting back onto that path.

If I am going to do this work fully, I am going to need your help. If you want to help, you can commit to praying for me, you can check on me to see how it's going and if I keep on listening to God's voice through it all, and you can drop a couple dollars here. I hope to raise enough to make this my full-time vocation for the next few years until I can retire. My hope is to work with Ethiopians and South Sudanese who have moved to the US in recent years, but that will involve more travel than I am free to do right now. That time will come, though, so if you are amongst those people or know some of them, let's talk. Who knows what God will do?!

three weeks post-surgery

This has been a hard couple of months. Michael's recovery from surgery has taken more time than it did after the first one. He has not been able to put together enough sentences to make a paragraph. Seizure activity in his brain has thrown him to the ground several times. We now have chairs strategically placed between where he hangs out and places in the house he wants to go to within our house. He has a cane, a walker, and a wheelchair and uses whichever one he needs at the moment. I am on constant alert, listening to every noise in the house when I'm not sitting beside him. We hold each other tighter than usual and tell each other I love you more often.

But what a blessing to have Amira, our daughter, with us! She has moved in and has started making this house look and feel like a home! Her presence makes it possible for me to run to the store or to the dentist. She's a joy to talk to. She even likes our dog Gabi! She's looking for paying work - and finding it pretty quickly. She's an Amira-of-all-trades and pretty good at everything she does. She'll stay till she goes somewhere else sometime. That's the plan for now.

 

Today I woke up discouraged. My prayer has been that God will allow Michael more days (weeks? months?) of productive work telling God's message that he is so good at doing. But the thinking process has prevented that. Until today. This morning after listening to our usual devotional podcast, he asked me what I thought. I was surprised, because he hasn't asked that for a very long time. I told him my thoughts and then cautiously asked him about his thoughts. What a joy to hear him tell me clearly and coherently what he has been thinking for these many weeks since the tumor returned in late July. He admitted that he was very discouraged, that he felt abandoned by God. And we talked about that for a little and then prayed together. His voice was stronger than I've heard it for a month. And his prayer was beautiful!

when we're all too busy to play

Thank you for walking together with both Michael and me. Thank you for lifting each of us up before the Throne of Grace, because sometimes its hard for us to do it ourselves. And I thank God for staying beside us, for giving us strength, and for what appears to be another miracle in the making. I thank God for all of you.

Three Things

 

Thing Number 1:  A Request from an Unlikely Source

About a month ago I received a very encouraging email from a colleague and friend in Gambella, Rev. Gnigwo Omod, the president of the East Gambella Bethel Synod (EGBS) which is made up mostly of Anywaa people. The West Gambella Bethel Synod (WGBS), whose offices are on the other side of town, is headed up by Rev. James Gatdet Tang and is made up mostly by Nuer people. 

If you've followed our work very closely, you know that the Anywaa and Nuer are frequently in conflict for reasons that are sometimes clear and sometimes not. This conflict has been going on for generations. Anywaa and Nuer rarely stick up for each other for any reason. There is a lot of jealousy and finger pointing in both directions. 

Gnigwo wrote regarding two issues. The first was a notification that the Nuer community had been attacked during a spiritual conference (much like a tent revival meeting) organized by the women of that area. He asked for prayers for the Nuer community.  A neighboring people group, who are notorious for such attacks on both Anywaa and Nuer, raided the area during the meeting, killing several people (mostly women) and injuring many others. In addition, he requested prayer for peace and reconciliation in the area and for the strength and courage for the church leaders in doing their part. 

Revs. James Gatdet Tang & Gnigwo Omod

Secondly, Gnigwo made a request on behalf of the WGBS for funds for the purchase of a Toyota Land Cruiser. This has been a need for many years. The one that synod has is more than 20 years old and is hardly worth repairing any more, because the repairs cost more than you would pay for a new car in the US. The Outreach Foundation has agreed to collect donations and send the funding on when it reaches the amount needed. I hesitate to tell you how much is needed, you will be horrified and maybe scared away from donating.  ... minimum $60,000 for a used one; it would be better if they could buy a new one - more than twice that amount! Would you consider honoring Rev. Gnigwo's selfless request by making any small or large donation to help carry on the work of the WGBS. 

Since they have no useable vehicle, Rev. James must beg a ride from another organization in order to make a pastoral visit to the community grieving the loss of so many people. Click here to give online and to find mail-in directions. Make a note on your check that your donation is for "WGBS Vehicle" or at the bottom of the online site check "other" and write that in.

And please do remember the Gambella region in your prayers. Violence continues to disturb the peace in Gambella town as well as the surrounding area. There seems to be no solution. We know that Jesus is central to any possible solution.

Thing Number 2: Rachel's High Adventure

I learned from my dad that life is always an adventure, but when going to new places and doing new things (like getting ice cream at a place you've never been before!) it's a High Adventure! I am in the process of starting a High Adventure.

Gabi & me off on another Jeep adventure!

For six months, I tried working at a local hospital - just to have something to do, to see if I can still do "American nursing", and to have some spending money. That zapped my joy and took up more time in the week than I had to give. So I sat down and talked to God who pointed out to me that I have gifts and training that fit a special need in the US. 

You are well aware, I'm sure, that there are many African immigrants who have come to the US to escape all the problems of their home countries and villages. What is very evident, though, is that those problems don't just drop off at the check-in counter for their flights out. Immigrating to the US is a lot harder than it might seem and when a person arrives carrying the baggage of years of turmoil and poverty, life in the US can be unbearable. 

As a Master Equipper in Trauma Healing, I am trained to bring people together to do part of the work towards healing those pains. I am now in the process of becoming a Bridges Leader to do just that as a vocation. Bridges is an organization that will help me to work through my own non-profit, which I haven't named yet! It will mean some travel to places like Nebraska and Minnesota, where there are many Nuer and Anywaa immigrants. It will probably also mean zoom meetings. 

In addition, there are people closer to where I live who have been affected by similar trauma. The opioid crisis hit the region of southwest Virginia where we now live very hard. Where coal was once a major industry, jobs are scarce now. I hope to connect with people here trying to put the next foot forward towards living a productive and peaceful life again. 

Obviously, I haven't worked out the details, yet, but this is the High Adventure I'm preparing for. Of course, I will need funding. I'll get back to that next time! And a lot of what I do will depend on how "Thing Number 3" progresses.

Thing Number 3: A Couple of Tumors

Having been completely symptom free and having always had "perfect" MRIs for

With hair again!

the past two years, we were surprised by the two small white blobs that showed up where they don't belong in Michael's brain this week. He is still symptom-free. We give thanks for that! And we give thanks for the progress in the medical and scientific understanding of our bodies that were so wonderfully and fearfully made. 

Over the next several weeks he will undergo a biopsy, treatment with chemotherapy, and surgery to remove what doesn't belong in his brain. The Duke Hospital doctors are hopeful because the tumors are still small and not "reaching out" (yet). 

Once again sadness overwhelms without knowing what, exactly, we are sad about. Our plans are all tentative. And yes, they are for all of us, but - no, it's not quite the same. We both rely on God's strength and love. Your friendship and care helps a lot.

Thanks for sharing our story.

Hope for many more First Days

So how does one (or two) live with the threat of a major unwanted life-change hanging inside one's head for a year and a half? It's been 19 months since that first day of the rest of our lives. I haven't been very good at writing about it. It's different for each of us. It's different for our children.

One day last Spring on a cool morning I looked out the kitchen window and saw Michael sitting in our back porch quiet place, one of the several prayer blankets we've been given around his shoulders. He was staring up at the big oak tree between our house and the church next door. It's leaves were fresh and green except for the large bare branch that needed to be cut out. He later told me he and the tree were having a conversation. (Didn't surprise me. On our first date he stopped to talk to a lamp post on a Cairo street. And trees in Dembi Dollo answered him back ... he said.) They had something in common - something dead inside each of them that needed to be cut out. And he talked to God about it, too. It was from that moment that Michael felt the assurance of God's peace about whatever happened. All fear vanished from his mind and heart. He felt the warmth of the blanket around his shoulders as if God had put it there and embraced him. 

I am not nearly so spiritual or romantic as Michael. Way too pragmatic, probably. I have always dealt with each of life's turns navigating each pothole as necessary and looking for the straight-aways before accelerating. With each chemo treatment and each MRI, I paid attention to see what the side-effects and the report was going to be before getting anxious. And each month the MRI reports were good and the chemo was manageable by not planning too much and sleeping a lot for a week or so. I grew up knowing that my life was in God's hands and I just expect it to stay there no matter what happens. Fear has never been a very active part of my emotional make up.

Sadness, though, is something else. The thought of a life-change that involves significant loss makes both of us sad. Never, however, at the same time. We feel it in different ways, at different times, and, of course, about the prospect of different losses. Over the months we have both had days where we just sit and cry even though there's nothing to cry about ... yet. And we wonder about the future.

Last week Michael took his last trial vaccination at the Duke Brain Cancer Center in Durham, NC. And two weeks before that he took the last of his chemo treatments. On March 1st he'll have his "end of treatment" MRI. And we will wait to see how long the treatment will hold. The Physician's Assistant who examined him last week, encouraged us by letting us know that there are those who have survived a couple decades. And we know one person who lived 14 years. 

As we drove back up the mountains from Durham, Michael committed to hanging on to that Hope. With no monthly interruption that will knock him out of commission for several days, we can anticipate and plan to do interesting and fun things on days off. We're even working on planning a vacation! That will have to be done between MRIs, which we anticipate to be scheduled every 6 or 8 weeks; but that's plannable. 

We Hope that each day we have together will be memorable and will be the beginning of many good things. 

It is a great pleasure to have you on this journey with us. Thanks for the prayers and love that you have shown us in so many ways.