Happy Birthday.

October 28, 2016
I prayed yesterday. I don't mean the type of prayer where you think a few happy thoughts while commuting to work. Or when you read someones less than fortunate status on Facebook and post "thoughts and prayers" as a quick reply. I am not talking about your garden variety grace before a meal, or the mindless regurgitation of the Lords prayer at Sunday church service. I am talking full contact, down on my knees praying. I prayed my fucking ass off - as best as I knew how, anyway. You see, I am really not that good at that sort of thing. I haven't done it that much. To be completely honest, I am not even sure that my prayer attempt was coherent enough to make it past the divine spam filter. But I gave it my best shot anyway. It is not that I have a lack of faith. It is something that I am learning more about every day. I think my mistake for many years was letting my disdain for organized religion get in the way of the nourishment and development of my personal faith.
Michelle and I joined a church for the first time a couple of years ago. It is a United Church of Christ. Going there and learning has connected quite a few dots of the puzzle for me. Still, I have remained head-strong in the belief that I control my destiny and outcome. Especially with regards to my cancer. The idea that I can game it, out wit it, and eventually defeat it. It is up to me and me alone to figure out how to win. Yea. Little by little, bit by bit, that notion is fading away.
     Let me back up a bit. As I mentioned, Michelle and I joined a church a few years ago - before I was diagnosed with cancer. I was first introduced to this church when I was invited to perform at an Easter service. I listened to the sermon, and it seemed different. It related the scriptures to modern day in a way that you could take that information and apply it on Monday morning at work. This church is also a very welcoming environment. For everyone. I like that.
   When I was to  later discover that I had cancer, Michelle and I found a lot of support and love there. As well as others there that had been through similar, and who reached out to me. That felt amazingly good and comforting. One of the repeating themes, as I understand it,  there is that God is not some bearded dude on a throne high atop the clouds, but that he is in each and everyone of us. That to love God and to love our neighbor is all but synonymous. Conversely, when we allow ourselves to be loved by our neighbor, we also allow God into our lives. That is huge. And amazingly simple. So, why is it so often obscured by the trappings of organized religion? I am reminded of something I read in a book on calculus. "Calculus Made Easy",  By Silvanus P Thompson. In his prologue, he states the following:
``Considering how many fools can calculate, it is surprising that it should be thought either a difficult or a tedious task for any other fool to learn how to master the same tricks.
Some calculus-tricks are quite easy. Some are enormously difficult. The fools who write the textbooks of advanced mathematics - and they are mostly clever fools - seldom take the trouble to show you how easy the easy calculations are. On the contrary, they seem to desire to impress you with their tremendous cleverness by going about it in the most difficult way.
Being myself a remarkably stupid fellow, I have had to unteach myself the difficulties, and now beg to present to my fellow fools the parts that are not hard. Master these thoroughly, and the rest will follow. What one fool can do, another can.'' 
It seems that often, religion gets caught up in itself in a similar fashion.

          I still have a lot to learn. That, I know. But I can say that I have felt more love over that past year or so - both from near and far away - from close friends as well as strangers that I now count among my closest friends, than I could have ever imagined. If that isn't the pure definition of a blessing, I don't know what is.
   A month or so ago, our daughter left for graduate school in London. It was a very emotional moment for us, to say the least. I posted about it on the on line cancer support group that I belong to. It was an "unload" moment for me. I received a lot of support from the members of that group. I could write a book about how much that group has done to change my outlook on humanity, but I will save that for another time. The next morning, I received a private message from Mark, a friend and brother in this journey that we call cancer. He wanted to know how I was doing. Mark, who is enduring the full brunt of prostate cancer (Stage 4 with metastasis to the bones) is a very active member of the group, and a very active blogger of his journey. I find his writings quite intriguing. On several occasions, I have found myself not understanding or not agreeing with his essays, only to re-read them several times and eventually grasping his real intent. I have occasionally wondered if I was the last one to "get it", or the first one to dig into it. In one of his recent posts, he stated that real hope is in love, and not treatments or drugs. And further, God is love. Well, after thinking about it, that is basic math. The transitive property of equality states that if A=B, and B=C, then A=C. So, if hope=love and love=God, then hope=God. Is it really that simple?
        Mark and I have exchanged ideas on many occasions, and I think of him often. The fact that he picked up on my state of mind and reached out really touched me. On top of that, he told me that he felt that he should send me a cross pendant. Most of his blogs have a picture of one of these pendants, which are formed out of steel nails. It is a thing of beauty.  It honestly took me a few hours to compose a reply. I didn't know what to say. I just did not have the words to express my gratitude for such a gift. When it came in the mail, I stared it and held it for some time. Iron nails, encased in copper wire, and a silver cancer ribbon with the word "Hope". It is a solid feeling piece. It felt good to hold- which is all I did with it for the first week or so. I held it, and looked at it. Eventually, I hung it around my neck. As the cross hit my nearly bare smooth chest (lupron has stolen most of my body hair), the cold of the iron nails sent a chill down my spine. Followed by a warmth in my core - as if I was wrapped in a wool blanket. It felt good. Surprisingly good. From a guy whose jewelry stash consists of a wedding band, wrist watch, a tie tac or two, and a pair of inherited cuff links that I have never used. But this more than jewelry. There is something else going on. It feels good.
             So, back to my prayer. This has been a tough week to be a cancer survivor. Not for me personally, mind you. I actually have started feeling much better. The fog of my last lupron shot is starting to lift. I did A 5k run and a 35 mile bike ride last weekend. I woke op on Wednesday and felt awesome. I even posted about it that night on the group. I felt better than I have in a couple of months. my post garnered a lot of reaction within the group. many understood the elation of a "good day". Unfortunately, it often seems that my good days come at the expense of others in this fight that are having much worse days.  I got up bright and early on Thursday. It was my birthday. I made it to 52!! What a year. I have been though a lot, but I am still here, and feel great. I started my coffee, and looked on line. I was curious if my previous night's post had spurred any other remarks from others in the group experiencing such fortunes- which it had. Then I saw another post. A post that made sick to my stomach. Chris, another member of the group, had gotten his test results back. It wasn't good. Chris is another stage four survivor who is currently going through chemotherapy. Despite Chemo, hormones, and radiation, his numbers have started increasing again. This guy is doing everything right - attitude, treatments, diet, exercise, the whole nine yards. Still, it is not enough to keep things turned around. How can it be? It just makes no sense. Yet, he still has faith. And hope.If anybody, anywhere, has a chance in gaming this thing, it is him.  I thought about Chris all the way into work. Him and the others that are fighting equally hard battles. Bob, Mark, Trevor, Henry, Dan, Peter. The list goes on and on. And all of the guys who are in similar situations as mine. Coping reasonably well, but anxious what news the next test will bring.  And the seemingly continuous flow of the newly diagnosed. All scared as hell. Then I thought about my own journey. Sometimes, it seems like I got an easy path. While it is true that I have had my bad days, I am doing rather well, and managing the side effects for the most part. If I was in control, I would gladly take on a little more, if it would allow for things to ease up on others. But there in lies the real rub. I am not really in control at all. Yes, I get to make decisions, and I have choices on a day to day basis, and I still have due diligence to work as hard as I can, but there is no gaming of the system. As I digest the news about Chris, and the news of countless others, I am becoming more and more aware of just how big this thing is. I prayed for comfort and grace of all of my brothers that are hurting and scared. For understanding and compassion. For hope. I have without a doubt been emotionally overwhelmed over the past few days, to say the least. Perhaps it has been building for a long time now. Probably. I don't know. I think that I am beginning to understand that God is really in control of this. It is up to me to do my best, but he has the final say. All I have to do is have faith - the steadfast type that is so prevalent of those that I have mentioned here -  and share the love and hope that is the essence of God. That is a pretty cool thing to realize on your birthday. Happy birthday to me.
Addendum:
   Dan Cole, another member of the group posted this prayer. I want to include it here - because of it 's shear beauty. And because I want to be able to return to it in the future.
   

A Survivor's Prayer
Dear God,
Yep, it's me again, sitting in my usual spot, waiting to go in to see the doc. Sorry that I only talk to you when I am in this type of situation, but here I am, waiting for results again.
Actually, God, we have a little more time today. The receptionist told me the doc is running late, so we have a couple more minutes to cover a few more subjects.
First off, and I know we've covered this before, but why me? I know you probably get asked that question a lot, and by people that have it a lot worse than I do, but it seems weird that I got this. I eat right, I exercise, I don't smoke, I go to church, and I try to be a nice guy.
I know, I know, I haven't been perfect. I've made some huge mistakes. I've failed many times as a person, as a husband, and as a father. Some might call it karma that I'm here.
I consider myself a religious person. I went to church every Sunday when I was a kid, morning and night, with Sunday school and Wednesday night catechism thrown in for good measure. I never saw anything in the Bible about karma. I can run the Bible category on Jeopardy, but I don't remember seeing anything in there about why some people get sick and why some people don't.
And if karma is a thing, why didn't Hitler get cancer? Or Stalin? Or Rosie O'Donnell? Just kidding.
Look, God, we both know why I'm praying to you right now.
I'm scared.
I'm not really scared of dying. Well, maybe a little. But what I'm really scared of is missing out on life.
I want to be there when my kids get married. I want to be there when my grandkids are born. I want to be there for their first dance recital or their first little league game.
I want to go to Europe with my wife.
I want to climb a 14er in Colorado.
I want more sunsets, I want more sunrises, I want more rainy days and snowstorms. I want more cold, clear, starry nights.
In short, I want more life.
I just heard the nurse call my name, so I have to wrap this up. So, God, please let the numbers be good. Let the tests be negative. Please, please,please God.
Let me live.
Amen