Jump David Jump

So... What does it mean to you?

Sometimes when I tweet I'm just throwing whatever out there, but other times I'm tweeting something that I'm really thinking about or chewing on. Well tonight, a dear friend of mine called me out on a tweet. I said, 

"Can't get this idea out of my head. We are the descendants. What we own, we never truly earned & our reward is undeserved."

He responded,

  "That quote you posted, what does it mean to you?"

I'm so glad he called me out on it. Because I think through stuff like this quite often, but so rarely do I take the time to write it down. I thought for a few brief moments about how I would respond and then just jumped in. Because I'm a geek for spelling I checked it over once, but other than that, this is what I came out.

A Thankful Entrance into 2012

This morning I woke up with the guilt that typically plagues me when I know I have so much work to accomplish that day. But since it's the first day of 2012, I gave myself the day off and in response to that morning dose of work-guilt was an overwhelming sense of thankfulness. I was just blown away by how much I have to be thankful for. 

In fact I decided to sit down and start writing the many many things I'm thankful for and couldn't help but to quickly blog and ask you to do the same for yourself. Start 2012 off, not with a list of things you resolve to do, but a list of things you've already been blessed with as you start this new year. Plus, you and I both know lists of resolutions are full of crap anyway...

I suppose one of the key things I'm thankful for today, despite the ridiculous list of blessings I've been undeservedly shown, is to be thankful for the struggles I face. No one actually learns anything about themselves by having their act perfectly together, and especially not from pretending to have it together. You learn who you are when things fall break down and fall apart; like a muscle being torn before it can start to heal itself and become stronger.

So I don't have to run from my life when things look like they are moving from bad to worse. Those are the times I have to get to lean in and admit I can't do it by myself anymore. Those moments are the best moments; even better than having it all together.

I won't bore you with the details, but I'm thankful for my wife, family, friends, church, job, clients, etc... I went into details on my list and you should to if you'll take about 10 minutes to work on your list.

But what I'm really struck by this morning is my thankfulness for Jesus whose death on the cross, as the old hymn says, provides both my pardon and my peace. Sometimes I feel that same need to 'work' for that pardon, similar to the guilt I feel about waking up to a job with a deadline. But I'm quickly reminded that the work has already been done, the pardon has been paid and the peace has been provided.

I hope you can take today off, be thankful and accept that peace.

(Sidenote: Not to mention if the Mayans, Nostradamus and Rick Perry are all right, this is your last New Year's day, so let's be thankful and enjoy it!)

One August Day filled with Faith and Doubt

This is a long post, I know. In fact, let's not even call it a post. This is a short essay.

I suppose I've been negligent in my updates regarding my health for several different reasons. On one hand, I had to learn to protect my time and not become overwhelmed with blog posts as I had been for awhile. Life goes on, bills need to be paid, need to see my 'real-life' friends, and not spend all of my time pulling a Doogie Howser by sharing my feeling online at the end of each and every day. But nevertheless, I want to keep you updated as to what has been going on because so many of you have been, and continue to be, so faithful to pray to our Lord on my behalf. For that, I can't thank you enough. In the meantime, I want you to know that His grace has indeed been more than sufficient for me.

In August of 2010, Amy and I went back to University of Michigan to get another MRI. So much had been happening before and during that time of year. Amy and I (as well as friends, family and most likely strangers) had been so focused on praying for physical healing before this check-up. We knew that God was in the middle of doing something big. Strange events had been happening that I won't go into detail on right now. But we could feel God was by our side, going through this event with us, preparing us for the next MRI. We had been praying intensely with such childlike faith that we simply expected the doctor would come back and tell us that... 'I have no idea what happened, but the tumor is gone!". And we wouldn't even be surprised. We would say... "Well, of course it's gone, our God is a healing God, duh?"

The Dr. came back with the MRI results and told us that everything was looking just about the same. Hmm. While some minor shifting had occurred, it didn't appear to be growing or shrinking or doing anything for that matter. Just hanging out in my head. Amy and I were obviously pleased because things had not worsened, but there was definitely a feeling of (and I feel strange saying it) but... disappointment.

Was I disappointed in God?

The Health of... my car.

(Side-note: I should let you know in advance this post is a complete failure. After intending to write about my health, I became enamored with an afternoon of dealing with the health of my 2000 VW Jetta. If you'd like to do something meaningful with the next 5 minutes of your life, please don't read this.)

There IS a Next Step

There IS a next step.

I must admit I've been running from it. In the past year and a half, my mind has been a pendulum on issues of faith, purpose, relationships, meaning, work, etc... I've considered (and accepted) thoughts I never would have predicted and eliminated thoughts I never thought possible. This is the type of reconstruction I assume comes from massive life-changing events, or possibly during those moment of clarity half way through life when you analyze everything and every person around you and begin evaluating their meaning. Then four months pass and you realize you have to start over and try again.

I was silently scared of this grey zone, this bermuda triangle of thinking, where no matter what answer you come up with you still felt lost for a directional heading. It's not that I've reconsidered all that I knew (or maybe I did that too) but a year and a half later you eventually settle on your core centers and beliefs. Now it's time to reconsider the smaller items, the patterns, the habits, the rituals that, over time, add up to make individual lives. I've spent months reconsidering these items I would have preferred to look past in an attempt to 'make things normal again'. But things will never go back to 'normal' again. At least that is what I'm hoping for.

It's been painfully valuable, but I'm starting to become appreciative of this time where no stone can go unturned. I don't know what it would take in your life to go through this, but it's worth it. Seems like I've been through a deconstruction. I feel like a city recovering from a bombing raid. For a while you mourn, become angry, gather your thoughts, consider the damages, throw things away, make amends, but eventually... you realize that it's time to rebuild.

And now, I am coming to this place of action. The type of action where I've run so many ideas around the block a few times to see if they have any legs, and eventually you decide to start making small steps forward. However, these steps are in new directions and you're unfamiliar with what happens next. No, things can't go back how they used you be. You tried that. You can't pretend that certain life lessons learned in the bright light of reality can be unlearned if enough time passes. It's not time to go over again what happened in the past, not to re-analyze my current situation and/or possibilities, but to take steps forward and when necessary, make slight changes to this new vector.

Children. Not Intended for Commercial Use.

As far as I can tell, I have taught my baby sister 3 things:

1. How to tackle (go low and wrap the legs)

2. How to play catch (and spit)

3. Ben Folds Five (a band which I believe was the beginning of her taste of good music)

It's safe to say that (besides item 3) I pretty much wanted to teach my sister how to become a brother. But since gender reallocation wasn't working out, I began to see Heather's natural talents develop. She truly is a unique blend of her 3 older siblings. From Leslie she received a strange quality I know absolutely nothing about... she became fiscal. I barely even know what that word means. From Angie she became a giver and a lover of all, which leads to a lot of crying. She is always looking for someone to help. In fact I have to laugh when she recounts the time she and her husband took a homeless guy to a chili cook off to make sure he was fed, but instead he ended up getting drunk and wandering off. So much for helping the homeless... Or when she came to me to brainstorm a clever way to deliver gifts to the strippers at the local strip-club to show them that they were loved. (Ha! I love it!)

And I don't know what she got from me, but it probably wasn't anything positive.

Dear Cancer (with explicit lyrics)

(Side-note: This was my personal letter I wrote to cancer after one-year. I wasn't going to share it, but after reconsidering, here it is.)

---

Dear Cancer,

About one year ago, June 7, 2009, we were introduced. I admit it was a bit of a shock because I was unaware you had actually known me for around 10 years or so, silently growing without my knowledge. Nevertheless, to become fully aware of you now and see the black and white x-ray evidence of your presence in my brain was the beginning of a new chapter (if not an entirely new book).

Honestly, it makes sense to me why you grew quietly and slowly in my brain. You didn't go after my lungs or my liver. And I'm really not surprised that of anywhere to appear in my body, you chose to focus on the one area of my body that I hold the most dear, the heart of my identity - my ability to communicate, to speak, to write, to think. It's strangely peculiar you've positioned yourself in a such a fashion that both of my speech centers are affected with the strongest malignancy lying in the nerves that connect the two, a strategic position to keep my thoughts from coming out of my mouth.

Of course it would have been in your best interests to continue to grow quietly for 6 or 7 more years from now when they told me that you've grown too far and there's 'nothing left to do'. But you, cancer/evil/sickness/illness, you have made a grievous mistake.

You showed your cards too quickly.

One Year

I've probably written about 4-5 blogs in my head over the past few days regarding this one-year mark. Each of them have varied in topics, length and intensity levels. But to be honest, I'm really not sure which one belongs here. All I know is that I should probably post something even though I'm a few weeks late.

So, I just wanted to say Thank You. (Can't go wrong with that, right?)

Thank you to my wife, my family and my friends. Thank you to so many of you out there (most of you I don't even know) that have been praying for me. Thank you to the medical staffs that have helped me. Thank you to my Mayo families - the Wilson, Cass, Fagan and Finch families. Thank you to the churches, universities and support groups who have invited me to share my story. You have each participated in my healing. Thank you to Dot&Cross whose grace has been pretty amazing over the past year. Thank you Micah-the-magician and Dr. Fan.

Things are going rather well regarding my health. I am in round 5 of my alternative treatment schedule. Each round goes for 25 days of heavy enzyme supplements with a 5 day off-cycle. Still detoxifying each day (enemas and sauna) and trying to stay close to my diet, but I'll admit, it's super-tough. In previous cases this type of treatment has lasted from 12-18 months, so we'll see how much time my body needs to make the turn.

I plan on having another MRI later this summer. The last MRI check-up was in November and there was no growth in the tumor which was a great success. We are once again praying for shrinkage this next time around. Considering I started my enzyme treatment in February, we'll see if those have been working to tear apart the tumor.

If you are up for it, I would ask that you would continue praying. I think that year 1 has been about understanding what-the-crap just happened to me. I think Year 2 is going to be a 'fall-out' year or a year of results. Meaning, many of the things I've been learning, the concepts I've wrestled with, the physical battles I've faced and the impact they are having on me will all start to fall into place and take form. That sounds scary in some ways, but it's good. It's the next chapter. I don't really know what year 2 looks like right now. I think it's going to be pretty different from Year 1.

Operation 55-Zebra - Year 2

Away we go...

Ugan-dizzled!

I've been receiving facebook threats from people about how I haven't been blogging lately! I'm sorry! I have so much to catch you up on!  I'm working on it!

Things to Come:

• Update on treatments - Round 3!
• Video of me slamming a goal past a diving Ugandan goalie
• Blessed Earth's Earth Day Simulcast! 20+ countries! 400+ Churches! Get on it!
• Understanding how Iconoclasts think and the change it made on how I view the Bible

But in the meantime - this ought to keep you busy! Enjoy some medical research given to me by my doctors about how much time I have left to live.  Download Lancet wait vs. early radiation

Uganda

Hey everyone, sorry for the late announcement but a last second trip is currently underway! World Vision and Dot&Cross are partnering together on a new project! I will be in Uganda through the end of this month scouting out project details on behalf of Dot&Cross. I'm typing this on the runway as I head to Amsterdam which will be my half-way point to Entebbe. We'll spend part of out time there and the rest in Kampala.

As always, I'll be able to share more details about the project later on, but in the meantime I ask for your prayers. On my list of 100 things I pray don't happen to me, Malaria comes in at #52 and Yellow Fever is at #84. I'll still be undergoing my alternative treatments which will be a struggle but I'm so glad that I'm able to participate on this amazing trip.

But to be honest, I'm praying that God will meet me in Uganda and He'll disassemble any elitism, entitlement and pride that I know exist in me. I look forward to being transformed. If you get a moment, please join with me in these prayers. I have a feeling this trip is going to become a pivotal part in 'Operation 55-Zebra'.

I'll take photos and videos to share with you when I get back.

Much love to you all!