We’ve had a wonderful Christmas season—with more time than usual at home together thanks to the winter weather.

We’re doing the last organizing and analyzing of the year and it will very soon be time to file it away. As difficult as it has been, 2009 was an improvement over 2008 because I got to spend more of 2009 at home. I was at my primary care doctor’s office last week and on checking me over she said, “I don’t think I know what some of these scars are.” So, I preceded to describe them, a map, really, of the last couple years: from little pot-holes of IV and vaccination scars to larger knife-roads for everything from mole removals to liver resection, to a big interstate scar used 3 times for intestinal surgeries.  Invisible marks of toxins are on my nervous system (my left foot still largely numb and my left hand still sensitive to metal and cold). The depths of pain, sickness and helplessness seared my mind. I don’t want to go back to the dark times, but sometimes they come to me uninvited. I’m not sure if there’s something more I should learn from them or not. If so, I pray I can learn it through mental exercise rather than having to physically go through it again.

 But it was all worth it, of course, to survive to this point. Very well worth it and I am grateful to God that I am alive and here with my family: to hear Shayley play O Beautiful Star of Bethlehem on the piano; to see Charlie conquer the first semester of Anatomy and Physiology, Jordan her first semester of medical school, Jaxon his first “semester” of pre-school and Asa his first semester of life; to enjoy great food and fellowship at my brother’s home; to worship and study with our church family; to play setback around our dining room table with my mom, Shayley and Charlie as the snow fell; to see the joy on all faces as the kids unwrapped presents at my Mom’s on Christmas Eve. These and the regular evenings spent at home eating, playing and working together are the rich moments of this present world.

Yet my mind flickers at times to trials—my own and others. A strange place to be reading this season, but I have found myself reading the little book of Lamentations lately. Set while the Hebrew people are taken away into Babylonian exile, it is one of those dark moments of human existence—human sacrifice, cannibalism, slaughter of children—wide-spread, off-the-chart devastation and suffering. It feels selfish to even compare personal trials to the words this brought,  and yet I find myself doing that. Beginning in Lamentations 3:19 it reads:

                I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,

                                The taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.

                I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—

                                The feeling of hitting the bottom.

                But there’s one other thing I remember,

                                And remembering, I keep a grip on hope.

                God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,

                                His merciful love couldn’t have dried up.

                They’re created new every morning.

                                How great your faithfulness!

                I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).

 Yes, as prepare to wake up in a new year, I’m glad that God’s mercy is new every morning! I’m glad for a merry, mountain-top experience of late! And yet, this passage reminds me of those in this world who know no hope—those suppressed under merciless regimes, those whose children are starving, those whose loved ones have been taken from them, those children who have no parents, or those who have been abused.

 The writer of Lamentations  goes on to say:

                God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,

                                To the woman who diligently seeks.

                It’s a good thing to quietly hope,

                                Quietly hope for help from God.

                It’s a good thing when you’re young

                                To stick it out through the hard times.

                When life is heavy and hard to take,

                                Go off by yourself. Enter the silence.

                Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions:

                                Wait for hope to appear.

                Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face.

                                The ‘worst’ is never the worst.

                Why? Because the Master won’t ever

                                Walk out and fail to return.

                If he works severely, he also works tenderly.

                                His stockpiles of loyal love are immense.

                He takes no pleasure in making life hard,

                                In throwing roadblocks in the way.

                Stomping down hard

                                On luckless prisoners,

                Refusing justice to victims

                                In the court of the High God,

                Tampering with evidence—

                                The Master does not approve of such things.

 Suffering is universal, but hope also is possible for all. Having experience hope against odds, I pray that I can be part of spreading that Hope.

 As usual Shayley got a Christmas gift this year that she didn’t request. Often she does not especially appreciate these surprises, at least not at first. This year it was a globe. Not a fancy globe  electronic globe that spouts out numbers and facts, just a simple rotating ball marked off with lines and colors that are land and water and words that are nations and cities of people. In this era, more amazing than how many places we have heard of were how many we have not.  I got her the globe because it’s so much easier to understand places that way than on a paper map. And grasping locations encourages us to appreciate the people who live there.  (As at the doctor’s office, lines have stories.)

Perhaps my illness has been an unrequested gift, or at least can be used as such, to help me perceive and understand pain and suffering and despair, so that I can better appreciate the people who live there? My hope for 2009 is that I can be less focused on my own stories and more on others’, so I can better serve God and my fellow man and woman.

 We will generally plan to move away from our “update” emails and instead ask that you check the 3martins.com blog if you wish. If you want to be notified by email when something new is posted there, you can click on “Email Subscription” on the top right of that web-page.

 Again, thank you all so much for your thoughts and continuing prayers.

With love,

Lydeana

Dear Friends,

I’ve been doing better the last few days and have actually worked pretty much a full week so far. I appreciate those of you who have written and sent notes of encouragement.

Wanted to let you know that Shayley will be a featured guest at the free, First Fridays event at the Jacksonville Center for the Arts in Floyd this Friday. It goes from 5 to 8 p.m., I understand. Books will be available and Shayley will be signing, so please drop by and see us. There will be snacks and lots of cool stuff to see. (If you don’t know, the Jacksonville Center is a renovated two-story barn just outside the town of Floyd, on Route 8 South—email us or see www.jacksonvillecenter.org for directions.)

My next vaccine at Duke is Tuesday, November 10. Since the doctor said the reactions will likely get worse each time, we’re just going prepared to stay in Durham for a few days in case we need to get back to the hospital there. Just two more vaccines to go!

I made the mistake a couple nights ago of looking at the latest prognosis on Stage IV Colorectal cancer patients. The average survival time past the metastatic surgery is 13 months. I can’t quite relate what it feels like to read numbers like that. No matter how much your head knows that averages encompass wide ranges and that it’s not an upper limit, it sets your heart and mind sideways, and you get a queasy feeling in your gut. Here in a couple weeks, I’ll be at the 12-month mark. I’ve realized that for a year-and-a-half now I’ve been adjusting to the idea that life may span only another year. The funny thing, my mind never allows that time to reduce. It’s as if I’m in a perpetual mode of living one more year. Not a bad way to live, as long as it’s always one more year.

I don’t dread Tuesday all that much (yet), but already I feel the tension rising in anticipation of December 1st when I have my next CT scan at Duke. I think I used this analogy back in early July, but it’s like waiting to see what your sentence is—except you hope for life. When questionable pains or discomforts arise, the anxiety only builds. In these times, the highs are higher, as you try to thrill in the time spent with family and friends, and the lows are lower as anxiety swallows patience. I know that I become more fun in some ways, but also more difficult to live with and be around. So pray for Charlie and Shayley!

I continue to pray that God grant me 9 more years to raise Shayley and to encourage Charlie as he transitions to a new career. I thank you for your patience in listening to these things, and for your countless prayers on this journey.

With love, Lydeana

 I just quickly wanted to let you know that I didn’t really learn anything today. Dr. Fintel said it’s likely that the swollen lymph node are just a reaction to the vaccine. “Likely” it good in horse races, but in other matters sometimes you want “definite”’s. Since my next appointment at Duke is just a week from tomorrow, I guess I’ll just wait for that. Unfortunately there are no scans on the horizon that would answer the question until mid-November unless something changes. I’m thinking that a needle-biopsy might be the only way to know for certain, but that’s just my guess.

 Shayley started re-reading the Babysitter Club series over the weekend while we were sitting at the festival. On the way home yesterday she read me a sentence from one called the The Phantom Caller. I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like, “We often fear nothing as much as something.”    –How true, how very true. But it’s so hard to know the difference.

 I’m made it around quite well today, though, and was exceedingly glad to visit the chemo room only for blood work and not treatment.

 Thank you for your thoughts and prayers,

Lydeana

Dear Friends,

 We’ve had a splendid weekend! I got to sit at Shayley’s table at the Arts and Crafts festival a few hours yesterday and today. It was great to be able to sit still and yet see a parade of people and find new thoughts to think. I wanted to get up and hug many people, but had to refrain because I was short on energy and also tried to be mindful that we’ve entered flu season. Shayley made a few photos of the goings on around us yesterday and we posted them to 3martins.com last night (plus she wrote a little the day before about her latest project).

 October is one of those months when I wish I could be 5 different places at once, with festivals hither and yon, not to mention just the sheer joy of absorbing the autumn leaf colors and rustlings. Just in the few hours between town and back today it seemed that several maples matured from little patches of orange to large reds. My camera will not do justice to the red berries and burgundy leaves of the dogwoods in our yard.

 I have felt stronger today than yesterday, though I still had to lay down and rest in the afternoon. I see Dr. Fintel tomorrow. I continue to be concerned about the sore lymph nodes. I emailed Dr. Morse at Duke on Friday and he said he would see me this week if Dr. Fintel thought he should. I’m scheduled to go to Duke for the next vaccine on Tuesday, October 13, so I expect he’ll say just wait till then. I’m not scheduled for the next CT until mid-November.

 Charlie’s getting some color back in his cheeks after some pale days. A friend is taking me to Salem tomorrow to give Charlie some extra time for his work. Please continue to pray for him.

 Congratulations to our pastor, David, and his wife Ginger on the birth of their first child, Caligan, last night. I understand all are well. It’s a joyous reminder of the beauty and wonder of life and gives us all happy thoughts. On Tuesday, it will have been 3 weeks since the live-virus vaccine, so I’ll be able to hold babies again! I can’t wait!

 And speaking of young people, Tuesday from Noon to 1 p.m. will be a time of special prayer for Younglife in Floyd County. It’s a great new outreach for our young people.

 Again, speaking of young people, the grandfather of one of Shayley’s good friends put together a video of Shayley and Jacq talking about Lyrical Miracle: Creativity in Creation. Only Jacq could talk Shayley into singing a couple of the songs! They put it on YouTube. The link is below. WARNING: the  girls had been working with eye-shadow and it’s a little scary!

 Smiling tonight. Thankful for friends and family and for your continuing prayers.

 Love,

Lydeana

We’ve been having a pretty good week. Last evening Shayley, Mom and I got the last of the summer stuff in from the garden. I thought I put pictures as a new post on the blog last night, but realized tonight that I accidentally put it as a new page. Anyway, it’s located here . . .

 http://3martins.com/food-and-critters-around-our-house/

 Charlie’s having a difficult day. He’s been working so hard amidst his appraisal business, his three part-time jobs, his anatomy and physiology class, and chauffeuring me to the doctor. A mix-up happened today and he missed a big A&P exam. He emailed and left a voice mail message for the professor about 5 hours ago that he had thought the exam was tomorrow but hasn’t heard a word. We’re just praying that she’ll allow him to take it tomorrow, even if she deducts a letter grade or something. We fear this may jeopardize the whole class for him this semester, which would delay the nursing program another year. Please pray that this will get resolved in a good way, soon. Tonight he’s so miserable, not knowing.

 Not knowing seems to be a theme for us this week. I still have the sore knots that seem to be lymph nodes. My regular check-up with Dr. Fintel is Monday so I’ll see if he thinks I should go back to Duke early. My next scheduled appointment at Duke is October 13. I don’t know if there’s a way they could tell for sure if it’s just a reaction to the shot; perhaps an elevated white count would suggest that, but I’m not sure. Dr. Fintel’s office always does blood work, so hopefully I’ll know the white count soon.

 I continue to get exhausted easily. I’m kind of regretting reserving a table at the Arts and Crafts festival in Floyd this weekend. I know I can’t do it all day and I regret pulling  Charlie away from his other stuff for the afternoon. Oh well, live and learn.

 It seems there’s so much loss and hurt and pain in our community tonight. I’m praying for those who have lost loved ones, jobs, or the sense of security that good health provides.

With love,

Lydeana