I’m humbled by a lot of this. I sat down a few days ago to gather my thoughts in one place and almost as quickly, this whole blog thing came out. The humility is in knowing that I’m not enduring anything that many people I care deeply for have not also endured. From those (you know who you are), I have gained strength in so many ways. If anything I share resonates with you, please know that they are your words as much as they are mine. And, words are windows into the heart. Truly.

This promises to be a long one. No problem if you cut it short, feel drowsy or hit the delete button.

It was a long month ago that I had this thought. It wasn’t a new thought, actually, and I get them from time to time. Most of you know that I’ve been on quite a training regimen. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt completely healthy. Yes, I’m restricted in my activities due to the upper spinal thing but I was able to find outlets that I really enjoyed and found deeply fulfilling. And, of course, besides living as healthy a life as I could, I had this nice little goal of joining several friends and climbing one of our nation’s highest mountains in Colorado this August.

It was only about four years ago that we were wondering if I could ever travel to Idyllwild again (where Mary and Greg live), because of lung issues. And then that really kind and good doctor asked me to trust him and that we could bring my lungs to robust health in a year.  Oh, really!  As a lifelong asthmatic who has learned to cope with never really getting a full breath (or, at least not consistently), that was a tall order. But, I took him up on it and he was right! The last time I thanked him for changing my life, he said that meant more to him than I could know.

Of course, it was about twenty years ago when that very nasty disease struck me down and I faced partial blindness and probably worse, given the hole eaten from the frontal sinus into the brain cavity.

So, here was the thought last month as I reflected on the remarkable resiliency of my body and its ability to be healthy and perform as it was intended:

This is grace. This is a tremendous gift and I rejoice in it.  But, went the thought, I will not always have this. I’m 62 and not getting younger. Eventually it will erode.  Or, more bluntly and given my experience, I could lose it tomorrow. I remember saying to God, “God, I REALLY appreciate this gift and would REALLY like to have it continue. BUT, if it doesn’t, I want to thank you for this moment and I rejoice in it.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have included that last sentence. 🙂

The point is this: We are all on borrowed time.  (Perhaps I should name this blog, “Borrowed Time.”) Now, that may be a controversial thing to say. The world (a term I use to mean conventional wisdom, prevailing cultural opinion and all of that) says “I deserve.”  I deserve things that make me feel good, make me happy or successful. I worked hard so I deserve the fruits of my labor.  (That is a tricky one.) Or, I deserve God’s beneficence because I pray hard or, again, I work hard to do good things.

I look at it differently. I can never work hard enough to deserve the things that are important. No amount of work or trying will help me to love more deeply, care more fully, act more graciously. And what is more important than those things?

These are gifts and I treat them as “borrowed” because they do not come from me. As such, so is life and its many grand qualities. Part of the process right now is knowing that I’m the same person with the same joys and challenges as I was a month ago.  And, thankfully, I had a sense then that this could happen.  And, just as importantly … and this is a BIG deal: If not me, then someone I’m very close to. And, if not someone I’m very close to, then someone with whom I come into contact that very day.  And, how am I being present to all of that? Not, without help.

If you’re still with me, I’m finally getting to what was on my heart early this morning and on the drive back from my regular Monday morning men’s meeting.

I’ll get there in a roundabout way.

After returning home, I was on the telephone with two dear friends. One, my oldest friend from earliest childhood. The other, much more recently, a woman in our couple’s small group (there are seven couples active and we meet on Wednesday evenings to share life in all of its dimensions). Both had reached out in previous hours, sharing love and concern and wanting to get together. Both expressed pain, although in somewhat different terms. They opened their hearts and I was deeply touched. Because I’m a sap, the eyes got teary, but again, for joy that I have relationships with people like you who are reading this, who care and love.

The woman (I’m about as novice a blogger as you can get and don’t know the protocol about sharing some names and conversations), bless your heart! even asked how she could take the pain onto her. But, that’s what we do, isn’t it? We seek to take the pain from those we love.

This will continue being roundabout a little longer as I detour into an experience from about nine or ten years ago:

A close friend and professional mentor, someone who had helped make me the educational leader I became, had experienced the greatest grief. He lost his daughter to the terrible disease of anorexia. (I have another dear friend and member of our Monday morning group who is in that raw place of grappling with the same disease for his precious daughter.) We were at the church memorial service when my friend, who I knew extremely well and whom I cared for and about deeply, went to the podium to speak. He was never a man to just be stoical. He felt deeply and admitted weakness, although he was very bright, successful and good at what he did. Anyway, I instantly saw that he was unable to speak because of his agony and this prayer just leapt instantly into my head: “God, please let me take his pain and free him to honor his daughter.”

God responded without hesitation and I was hit physically with the fullness of my friend’s pain. It literally threw me back into the pew and I had trouble breathing. I reached for Diane’s hand. It was awful. I experienced a brutal and dark agony and it didn’t go away quickly. However, as hard as it was to be in that state, I saw, joyfully, that my friend was composed and proceeded to deliver a beautiful eulogy.  It was one of the most profound spiritual experiences of my life and confirmation of how God connects us in ways that are both inexplicably beautiful but also extremely challenging.

Ok, the roundabout is coming back.

I started today with the desire to comfort all those who are anxious or fearful or worried about what Diane and I are facing. While being realistic, we are filled with hope and you should be, too! We do not awake in fear but in gratitude for another day to share. There is so much to see and do! We hope for a healthy resolution in the near future and are so grateful for your prayers and many offers of support. In the meantime, while the pace of my life has slowed considerably and the focus has shifted somewhat, the underlying values and principles that guide my heart, mind and spirit … therefore, behavior … have not changed.

My prayer is, “Lord, thank you for my dear friends and family who love me and surround me with their kindness … who pray for me and over me … and who are a main reason why my life flourishes. Life would indeed be hollow and absent of so much meaning without their (your) presence. Thank you, Lord, for the times such as now, when I may stumble a bit and their (your) hands are there to embrace me. They are your hands in human form just as you became human and showed us how to live. But, Lord, I also ask that you help me to care for all of them. Help me to take any discomfort they may have and release it. Help us all to see beauty even in turbulent times.”

Two last things to share if you haven’t fallen asleep yet.

Last night, Diane and I were blessed to be the guest of Ken and Marjorie Blanchard, along with about fifteen others at a fabulous dinner. We each had a chance to reflect and share. Without going into a lot of details, one of the prompts was to share one word that would help guide us in the coming year. Ever the contrarian, when it came my time, I said I had two. They are surrender and awe.

Surrender and Awe.  To me, two sides of the same coin, joined in love, grace and the ever-present Holy. Each leads to the other. One is a conscious act of will. The other is a gift that arrives unbidden at times. It is a borrowed piece of the Other and a glimpse into eternity.

My friend, Gary, likes to use the example of the medieval German soldiers who the king desires to baptize by full immersion as a display of surrender. The soldiers were fine with this, with the exception of their sword arm and sword, which they held aloft, unwilling to fully submit that last and important feature that made them strong and distinct. What do we hold back and why?

Awe arrives frequently as a surprise. Sometimes in grand and breath-taking fashion and sometimes in more subtle ways. I think awe is the twin of wonder and I’m so grateful God has gifted me with a sense of both. How wonderful that Susan (dear Susan, our sister of the Friday mornings) and her husband, Andy, and daughter, Drew arrived with dinner as we got back from the hospital. That Mary drove down from Idyllwild to the hospital. How awesome is it to be so closely in touch, sharing one’s soul with people nearby and far away? We have dinner tonight with dear friends and, again, this Wednesday. You two sets of couples have also known suffering and trials that have shaken you to your core. Two other couples brought dinner over a week ago and they (you) are no strangers to past and present suffering. Lunch last week with a special friend of over forty years who reached out immediately and has been with me in some of life’s greatest trials. Monday morning men laying hands and anointing with oil. Prayer groups around the country who do not know me, being brought into fellowship through dear ones who act out of love and hope. How could this not be awesome??

I was asked about my levels of anxiety or fear and how to meet each day, not knowing. Well, it’s not hard when the moments are filled with the beauty of full hearts, laughter and endless kindness.

Finally, my friend, Fred, sent me a dear note last night. Full of wisdom and love. He included a link to a song I’d never heard but had had a profound impact on him. I played it long before sunup, then for the guys in the morning group and, finally, for Diane when I got home.

In the gentlest but most powerful way, the singer, with his acoustic guitar, speaks of difficult trials and how we are often on our knees (sometimes, literally!), but can exclaim “Hallelujah!”  Thank you, Fred.

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118:24

I truly rejoice and am glad. Thank you for listening.