A Special Kind of Love

 Shallena always had a special kind of love.

It was first seen in her family.  She loved her brothers and sister with a faithful fearless love.  When a mean boy tried to put Dale in a headlock, she hit him on the head.  When corrected, she pled guilty, but added, “I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to do it anyway.”  Many families deal with sibling rivalry – not with Shallena.  Her brothers and sister were God’s blessings.  I suppose that is why she wrote on Dale’s eraser, and put chocolate chips in Angela’s mac and cheese.  Why she adored her baby brother Levi, and spent hours on end playing with him, doting on him, and even crawling in his playpen with him.  She loved them so much, and thought how sad it would have been to be an only child.  It goes without saying she loved her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and all the other branches on the family tree with the same loyal love.  For over 20 years Shallena shared with me – the luckiest of all - this special kind of family love.  She was the one who patiently listened to my frustrations, whispered in my ear, finished my sentences, and loved my life.  The one I planned with, dreamed with, fought with, apologized with, and prayed with.  I wish I had realized before how blessed I was to have a wife who loved me with no reserve and no regrets.  If you have somebody who listens to you and helps you, somebody who knows you and loves you anyway—somebody who can finish your sentences for you – you have a treasure.  Let them know how much you love them today.

Shallena had a special kind of love for children.  I was the baby of the family, and so I didn’t understand this for most of her life.  She would watch babies and small children, and she would understand and connect with them almost instantaneously.  Her big brown eyes would meet with theirs, and it was like they talked their own language – and now I believe this is the language of heaven.  She would watch their subtle actions, movements, words, and would know exactly what was going on.  She would throw back her pretty brown hair and laugh and play with them unrestrained – in all the innocence and wonder of childhood.  One of her favorite games to play with our children was to make their stuffed animals talk.  With her unique creativity and humor, those stuffed animals took on personas that amused and taught our children for years.  To her core she loved these precious little ones.  Her love of children flowed from a heart that was unencumbered by the baggage of pride and pretense.  She could be present with them in their simple innocence, and be completely happy.  It was this love of children that led her to become the founding principle of the Mentone SDA Team School in 2004.  It was an uphill climb, but she loved the children.  When the fruit of our love came to cry on our beds, she was there – listening, teaching, loving them every day.  Children, Mommy loved you with a very special kind of love.

Shallena had a special kind of love for the world.  As a child, her dad read her mission stories that thrilled her soul, and she resolved at a young age she wanted to be “one of them”.  When we met in college, it was our second conversation where we shared with each other our dream to be used by God to make the hurting world a better place.  She shared this love wherever she went.  Whether helping clean houses for older women who were a mess, lending a listening ear to a stranger who was hurting, or listening to downright creepy guys, her heart was always soft toward those in need.  She felt in herself the pain that others felt, and she suffered with them.  As a student missionary she requested to go to Belgrade – a hotspot in the ongoing Yugoslavian war at the time.  She was redirected to Albania – just next door – I was relieved to find that out!  When we lived in Malawi for three and a half years, there was a lot of pain in that community.  That resulted in a lot of suffering for her, but despite a rough and tenuous start, she found her place and lived her dream.  She was a missionary mommy for three and a half years of her life, and she could not have been more satisfied. The most meaningful and contented time of her adult life was our last year in Malawi.  I can remember sharing together the joy that God gave us – how blessed we were to share together the culmination of our childhood dreams.

Shallena had a special kind of love for beauty.  I have always thought flowers were pretty, but Shallena experienced them.  She would excitedly run and bend over and look at the intricate art of God that literally took her breath away.  She would take a deep breath and feel the perfume brighten her spirit – what a beautiful person she was.  “Oh, look, Jamie – isn’t it beautiful!!!”  The snow-capped mountains, a pretty agate or crystal, a flock of birds fanning their wings in vast formation, or the light dancing on the water literally took her breath away entranced in the wonder of divine creativity.  She didn’t just see the beauty of God in the world – she experienced and reflected it with all her beautiful self.  I can’t wait to see what she says when she sees heaven!

Shallena had a special kind of love for life.  Shallena was the sweetest person I have known – she was also one of the feistiest sweetest people I have ever known.  Some people thought she was only soft, but they soon found out they were wrong.  Her strong love of life and desire to be with her family was woven into her DNA and the fabric of her being.  For over nine years she lived with the threat that cancer brings, but she refused to live her life as if she were dying.  Giving up was never an option for her no matter the extent of personal sacrifice.  She has left us a glowing example of determination, perseverance, sacrifice, and faith.  She knew she did not control her own mortality, but she also knew she was bound and determined to do every single last thing she possibly could to have a little more time with her family.  For nine years she suffered through cancer and its treatments, but for nine years she recovered from them over and over again.  On the day she died, her sweet toes were still slowly wiggling.  Living was her choice, and God gave her the strength to do it day after day after day.  “For though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.” Proverbs 24:16. The final rising will be on that great day when the sweet voice of Jesus calls her to rise and join those who will never stumble again.  Hallelujah!

Shallena had a special kind of love for God.  From a young age she wanted to serve Him.  As she grew she came to know Him more, and then she really wanted to love Him.  She always believed in something bigger than herself – the kingdom of heaven – and this gave her purpose in life even in the darkest of times.  It was beautiful to watch her grow into a deeper and deeper love for God.  As cancer and its treatment chipped away at her physical vitality, God bound Himself closer and closer to her heart.  She experienced His love, forgiveness, and healing on a deeper level because of her struggles.  This brought her so much joy in the middle of many sorrows.  She wrote her journey in her blogs, and they bespoke faith and love despite the daily mortal uncertainty she felt.  Blogs such as “He Loves Me” and “Once Upon a Lifetime”, “Now Choose Life” (printed in your bulletin), and “Being known”.  As her sojourn in cancer-land matured, her spiritual intimacy with God deepened.  She didn’t ask God “why me”, instead she asked, “why not me”?  She did not feel entitled to a life free from pain and loss.  She didn’t feel entitled to really anything – it was part of her beauty!  She prayed that her pain would be a blessing to somebody else.  She disciplined herself to write her ten daily gratitudes, no matter how she felt.  She shared her journey of pain and faith in her writing, and invited others to come and join her in trusting God in the middle of the unknown.  She was honest with her struggles, authentic in her journey, deep in her love, and steadfast in her faith. 

 I would like to take a brief moment here to say thank you.  Ever since Shallena’s original cancer diagnosis over 9 years ago, but more especially in the last 6 and a half years with metastatic cancer, there has been a God-ordained community that has rallied around our family.  As challenging as the road has been, God has loved us through this community.  Thank you for the encouraging messages, the admonitions, the food, the prayers, the songs, the unexpected gifts – the love in all of its various forms. I hope that nobody in this loving community feels disappointed in God now that Shallena is at rest.  Every Christian who dies faithful dies victorious.  This is a tribute to our loving God, and the way He encouraged Shallena through all of you kind-hearted people.

The special kind of love that I was privileged to share with Shallena is but a reflection of God’s love.  Shallena was not perfect – she was just a mortal like you and I – prone to err, but so eager to make wrongs right, and share in God’s grace.  We celebrate the way she lived it, and grieve that she is no longer with us.  On January 10, 2023 Shallena entered her rest – soundly and safely resting until Jesus comes again.  But the special kind of love that fueled her life – God’s love – is still burning strong.  He is still with us, and His love has not left us.  The most beautiful pieces of Shallena’s life were but a special demonstration of God’s creative power.  Now it is our turn.  Shallena’s work and love in this life are done, even though their influence lives on.  Now we get to take up the work – the sacred work of loving our families, loving children, loving the hurting world, loving beauty, loving life, and loving God.  The greatest tribute we could give to our sweet Shallena is to grow in our love for God and each other.  On her behalf, I invite each and every one of you to share in this abundant life, for that was the deepest desire of her heart.  No, more than invite, I plead with you -- if you have not surrendered your life to God, and given yourself over to His love, why don’t you do it today?  I can’t think of a better time, and this world desperately needs to know this special kind of love.  May God bless each of us today with more of His special kind of love.

“We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19

Faith...or Demand?

***written by Shallena Crounse July 7,2020***

de·mand

/dəˈmand/

Learn to pronounce

noun

1. an insistent and peremptory request, made as if by right.

   "a series of demands for far-reaching reforms"
2. (Definitions by Oxford Languages)

I've heard it said often; perhaps you have, too. A young man falls and breaks his back. Doctors are sure he will be a paraplegic, but he heals completely. "That's my God!" he tells anyone who will listen. A woman is healed of a chronic disease. On social media she declares, "That's my God!" The stories go on and on. We all like to hear them, but I wonder about the sentiment.

It sounds like they are saying that they told God they needed healing and He did what they said. Does God take commands from humans? Is God your pet?

You turn things upside down, as if the potter were thought to be like the clay! Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, “You did not make me”? Can the pot say to the potter, “You know nothing”? Isaiah 29:16

I have stage IV cancer. For four years I've struggled, body, soul, mind, emotions. Several people have told me that they believe that I will be healed. How I rejoice in the hope that gives! However, I am not in charge. If I were, my diagnosis would be very different! I could die from cancer. It's a reality that I accept, albeit begrudgingly sometimes. I ask God to heal me, yet what if it's better for His kingdom if I'm not healed? I don't get to tell Him what to do. My own children don't get to tell me what to do, and we are all humans! Just like children, I may make my request and wait for His answer, which I must accept. 

Do I trust Him? If I trust Him, I will not make demands. I will not try to tell my Creator what He must do with my life. I will simply ask. Faith is not faith if I always get what I want. Faith is not in the object desired. Faith--patient trust--is believing in the person of our heavenly Father. Believing in His goodness and love for me, my family, my children. 

Now Choose Life

****unedited - written July 1, 2019 by Shallena****

So many of you are saying that I am strong. It is God's strength, not mine! He always, always keeps His word, for He cannot lie and still be God. His love for you and me has no boundaries. Yes, there is pain and terrible suffering on this earth--we have witnessed it. We have lived overseas and we have experienced sorrow and loss in the USA as well. There are none of us immune to it on this earth. The truth I have found is that there is only One who will never leave you or forsake you, there is only one who can heal all your hurts and carry your burdens. Only one who is steady and will never fail you. It makes absolutely no sense in my mind for us to reject our ONLY enduring source of hope and help when life is hard, when we are blind with pain. Have you read the story of Jesus? The torture, emotional and mental abuse, and suffering He endured to give life to the very people who were murdering Him, for the very people who would continue to vehemently reject Him through the ages...it's enough to make your heart break daily. I couldn't read the story for years because it hurt so badly.

Friends, Jesus is REAL. I can tell you from my own life. He has freed me from shame and regret, He has given me peace that passes understanding though I did nothing to "make it happen." Tomorrow I have neurosurgery. They are going to drill holes in my head. If they had told me that two or more months ago, I could have literally had a heart attack from fear. Tonight I will sleep, when I'm not praying, giving my heart and family in gratitude back to the One who gave them to me.
I could never accept the death of Jesus was for me. I was too bad, too sinful, too messed up. Besides I hated it. I wanted nothing to do with the murder of someone so wonderful. Before God gave me freedom, He helped me realize that my feeling was actually false pride, backwards pride. And then, praise God, He helped me realize that He died to heal my diseases! Jesus died to heal and save even me! Then He let me know that He forgives and accepts me--me, the girl who has always felt unworthy of love and anything good. I have always realized that God has given me an exceeding good life, even though I didn't deserve it. I was always afraid that it was too good to be true and that it would be taken from me. But God has healed me, and while humanly speaking it does look like all the good in my life could be taken away, I am not afraid. I believe God will heal my body, whether on this earth or after, that is His choice. It is so clear in the word of God that His will is for you and me to be healthy and alive, and I trust Him to do this for me now. It is not difficult, friends! He cannot lie so you can simply trust Him, just like the sweet, innocent, trusting eyes of our little ones look at us when they plead for help. How we long to help our children! God longs to help us even more. It is your choice and mine.

 "...today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants, 20by loving the LORD your God, by obeying His voice, and by holding fast to Him; for this is your life and the length of your days... ."Deuteronomy 30:19, 20

Baby God

“Where is your God now?” a more-familiar-than-desired voice taunts inside my head. 

“You’ve prayed for healing for six years, and now your wife is dying.”

I want to deny any share in the genesis of this intrusive sentiment, but if I were honest, I own more than I would like to admit.  Over the last six years of living with metastatic breast cancer, I have prayed/pled/bargained/begged/fasted/wept to seek healing for my beautiful bride.  Every new round of chemo, all those tantalizing natural cancer cure protocols, anointing services, prayers of the faithful, vegetable juice, vitamin C, turmeric, Turkey Tail – an endless list of reasons to hope that we would find the elusive key to make the cancer disappear.  I would be remiss to negate the blessings and miracles we have experienced along the way (for they have been sundry), but the fact remains that tonight my wife labors to breathe with the aid of an oxygen concentrator – home on hospice.

Where is the God of the miraculous when the missionary wife you have prayed for can’t lift her head off her pillow? 

My mind knows He is here with us, and in my heart I believe that a miraculous healing would not be hard for Him.  No harder than it is for me to flip a pancake or open a door.   But sometimes it feels as though I am alone.  That I am not tracking with Him.  That in this murky grief, I reach for Him, but falter.

I don’t think I would have recognized Him then, either.  Unless I was specially favored to be a shepherd or a wise man, I would have missed him.  That night when the Baby God was born. 

Gods are supposed to be powerful.  Thunder and lightning bolts, legions of angels, supernatural strength, and otherworldly domination.  The gods order their dominion with uncontested might to subdue any inkling of rebellion.

How could a transcendent Deity be a baby?  No wonder things aren’t working out for me - a Baby God can’t solve the problems of the world – He couldn’t heal cancer or bring justice on earth, or squelch rebellion and sin…?

I am not a baby person.  I was the baby of the family, and so all those other kids didn’t really matter as they were more like competition than anything important.  Shallena has always been the opposite.  Babies have always been her world.  I can remember time after time when she would say to me, “look at that baby over there, isn’t that bow cute?” or “did you see what that little boy did?”  I was almost always in the middle of a thought that went something like, “…uhh…what?...no…there’s a baby?” I wish now I had shared these moments with her.

I just didn’t get it.  Even when we had our own, my attitude was more like, “Hey, why does the baby get all the attention around here…?”

She loved them.  She looked deep in their eyes, interpreted their subtleties, and connected with them from the youngest of ages.  They had a power of attraction over her that she could not resist.   Their purity, simplicity, innocence, and love captivated her.  Their winsome smiles and laughter magnetized her affections and mobilized her assets.  Once we had our own, there was nothing she would not give to take care of that little life that had joined ours.

So, there He is – the Baby God of Christmas– wrapped in swaddling clothes.  Ignored by the bustle.  Worshiped and venerated by the heavenly and a few faithful earthlings.  Why did they worship?  Why did everybody else miss it? 

I have always associated God with power.  I want a God that can order the universe, establish the right, heal cancer, and solve the earthly and galactic problems with finality.  I suppose this is a perfect set up for why I sometimes struggle to find God in my pain.  I don’t want pain, and therefore God should remove it.  I want Him to resolve my pain and give me what I want.  If He doesn’t, then I don’t recognize Him around here.

But the Baby God of Christmas has a different approach.  “God with us” didn’t erase all the problems of the sin-ridden sod.  He was hunted as an infant.  He grew up in poverty.  He was homeless.  His food came from friends and strangers.  He rode on a borrowed donkey.  He was the victim of an unjust system.  He owned one piece of clothing.  He endured false accusations and lying testimony.  He was beaten for wrongs He did not commit.  He was cruelly executed after being declared innocent.

This beautiful, humble, childlike God lived a harmless life on earth in purity, simplicity, innocence, and love.  He didn’t reverse the general order of this world, but He did introduce the new order of His kingdom.

“Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Matthew 18:1

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” Matthew 18:3-5

That’s where Jesus is!  He’s over there with those insignificant children.  Shallena was right all along.  While I was hopelessly lost in ascending the ranks of the important ones (much like the dear disciples in this story), she was intently studying the kingdom of the Baby God.  These little precious ones more closely approximate the divine than all my Zeus and Shiva lookalikes.  Instead of looking for a Deity that would solve all our problems, she was relishing the joy of the imminent Immanuel.

Now I wouldn’t want to suggest that the beautiful Baby “God with us” can’t solve our problems.  On the contrary, “God with us” is the solution to all our problems. Sometimes He works miracles in the here and now, and I have no doubt He could do that for Shallena tonight.  Sometimes He allows the pain and loss for a season.  But do not be deceived - the childlike kingdom of the God Baby we celebrate this Christmas is snowballing. This kind of pure love cannot be overcome, and though the gates of Hell rail against it – they only magnify the goodness of it!  He wasn’t just a baby born of a virgin, He is a Divine Savior.  He guaranteed His promise of eternal safety with the shedding of His own blood. The power of sin and death has been broken, the grave has no hold on those who trust Him. This kingdom of kids – the government of the gentle, designed and secured by that sweet Baby of Bethlehem will grow until it fills all heaven and earth - an unstoppable force of grace.  “God with us” marches forward despite our brokenness and loss. And very soon we will see the Christmas Baby coming in the clouds to take us home.  “Amen. Even so, come Lord Jesus.” Revelation 22:20.

The oxygen concentrator is still huffing and puffing.  Shallena is still struggling.

“Where is your God now?” 

He is with us.  And I love Him so much.

Wiggly Toes

The time has come.  I didn’t want it to come, Shallena didn’t want it to come.  Our children and families didn’t want it to come, and it seems that most of the known world standing in solidarity with us - all you kindhearted people - also didn’t want it to come.

Nonetheless, the time has come and Shallena will be discharged home on hospice tomorrow - Thanksgiving Day 2022.

Hospice was always perceived as a bad word to Shallena.  All of the strength of her  independence and fire of her love would wilt into soft broken sadness when she heard the word.  She knew she did not control her ultimate destiny, but she was bound and determined to do every single last thing she could - no matter the personal sacrifice - if it meant that she would have a little more time with her children.  I suppose a lot of that has to do with being a young mom with young children.  It also has a lot to do with being Shallena.  

I have had many people tell me that Shallena is the strongest person they know.  I have to agree.  She never ran a marathon, or even a 5K to my knowledge.  We used to joke about how if we were bumper sticker people we would put a “0.0” on the back of our car.  In fact, she has had to fight to maintain the ability to walk over the last few years - but therein lies her strength.  

Shallena has never stopped recovering.  Whether from multitudinous chemo infusions that number somewhere in the hundreds, three brain surgeries, three breast surgeries, or the three different episodes of radiation, she has never stopped.  She has never given up.  Her fierce love - a deeply spiritual heritage from her God, her family, and her faith - always pushed her forward.  There could be no conversation about giving up as it could not be considered.  

Over the last few months as basic mobility has become a challenge, part of Shallena’s rehab has been doing leg exercises.  These exercises start with wiggling your toes, bending you ankles, lifting your knees…etc.  I would often walk in the room to see her wiggling her toes as she sat in the chair…exercising…recovering again.  She would look up at me with a twinkle in her eyes and a sweet smile on her face that said, “See, I’m getting better, again!”

I love the Therapists that have worked with Shallena - PT, OT, Speech Therapy.  They are her kind of people - “it’s time to get you back on your feet!”  “It’s time to get you going up stairs”, “I’m going to help you get better”.  They have seen her in the hospital, charted her progress twice in Rehab, and come to our house always helping Shallena to get better.  Most of their daily exercises start with wiggling the toes.

The last few days have been sobering.  Shallena has vacillated between sleepy to conscious to nearly unresponsive. We as her family have been talking about last treatment options and hospice, but she has not been able to participate in this discussion.  A couple days ago, as we came out of one of those meetings, I came back to see her…

“Hi Shallena, how are you?” 

No response, eyes closed.

“Are you feeling any pain, sweetie?”

No response, eyes closed.

“Let me see if your feet are warm”

I pulled back the blanket, and there were those cheerful wiggly toes just going back and forth!  

Even as I write this, and she appears to be sleeping peacefully, her toes are there wiggling away under the blanket - inviting me to come help her get better again.

Such is the strength of the indomitable spirit of Shallena.  Her body may fail her, but she will not give up.  I halfway expect her to wake up at home on hospice, whack me upside the head and say, “how dare you give up?!”

I have never loved Shallena more.  This is a time filled with emotion for all of our family.  Modern medicine has given us what it had to offer, and that - with the grace of God and Shallena’s perseverance - has given us six and a half years.  Now we take her home to where we submit her care to the Almighty.   We are His, Shallena is His, and He is good.  Therefore we do not need to fear, but we are very sad.  One thing is sure - as long as she has life and strength, she is not going to stop wiggling those sweet toes!

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength”. Isaiah 40:31

Trouble

I suppose you could call me a late bloomer, but I am just realizing, now that I have reached mid-life crisis zone, that I have spent most of my life trying to avoid trouble.

If fact, I don’t think it’s just me – I think most of us spend considerable time and money to avoid trouble.  Sometimes it would seem that with all of our modern conveniences that we live behind an impenetrable fortress where trouble cannot find us.  But it does.  Despite advances in science and technology, the testimony of scripture has not changed – “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” Romans 8:22.  And as Jesus said – “…In this world you will have trouble...” John 16:33

So, then I have to ask the question – why do I spend so much time trying to avoid it?  And why am I so unprepared for it when it comes?

As I think about this, I have come to one answer – my Christianity is tainted.  Now, I would not blame this deficit on any deficiency of the Bible, or even my church, but rather the contamination of my own faith with popular materialism.  Materialism says there is no god, and no afterlife, and so the meaning in life is in living a secure, long, pleasure-filled, easy, trouble-free life.  As a worldly Christian, I reject atheism and embrace the concept of heaven, but I also love the idea of a long, secure, pleasure-filled, easy, trouble-free life.    

Now, you could say that is all well and fine, and as it should be…but is it?  Who am I really following?  Did Jesus do any of that?  His life was not long, He had no home, He did not seek His own pleasure – it wasn’t easy, and He had all kinds of trouble.  So why am I consumed with trying to avoid it?

Rather than trying to sidestep trouble, Jesus embraced it as a medium to glorify God.  In John 12:27, in referring to His ignominious death He says, “Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No. It was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father glorify your name!”

In September 2021, my wife Shallena – my best friend and love of my life – had a stroke.  She has been diagnosed with Stage IV Breast Cancer for over five years, and this brain bleed - resulting from enlarging brain tumors - was the most recent complication.  As I have struggled with the consequences of this stroke for her, for our family, and for her role in our family,  I feel the words of Jesus – “Now my soul is troubled.” But the difference is that unlike Jesus, I want to just give this trouble back.  “Lord, just take it away”,  “Please heal Shallena”, or in the faithful, daily prayer of my firstborn for the last five years, “…please help Mommy to get well.”  Like Paul, I have found myself pleading (far more than three times), for the Lord to take this thorn from us (2 Corinthians 12:8).  I still hope that happens.  I still pray for it, and I still say thank you to all those others who with love and faith bring our family before the Lord in prayer.  But so far, that has not happened.

When will my Christianity allow me to say, “No. Father glorify your name”?  Our cancer journey has been marked by our struggle to be free from cancer.  Shallena has had surgeries, radiation, five lines of chemotherapy, multiple biopsies and procedures.  We have prayed, we have fasted, we have had  anointing services,  we have eaten only vegetables, drank vegetable juice, paid thousands of dollars to naturapaths and lifestyle clinics, eaten cottage cheese and flax seed oil for weeks on end, and a whole lot more...  And while Shallena has done well – and looked well – unfortunately, the cancer has not gone away.  Furthermore, we have watched as many other travelling companions with cancer – dear faithful Christian friends - have been laid to rest in Jesus.  We lose a part of us with each one that dies.  When should our struggle to be cancer free acquiesce into a desire to glorify God? 

I know some will say, “God has not caused these troubles, and He is not glorified by them.”  I have to agree that God has not caused this.  He is the Author of life, how could He cause something as deranged as cancer?  But I would disagree that He cannot be glorified in them.  Going back to the example of Jesus – He was the only perfect human to walk the earth, but the persecution, injustice, and evil execution that he suffered – all at the hands of base man and demons – was the ultimate glorification of God. 

So, where am I going with all of this – one thought: maybe all of our troubles are a call to seek the glory of God?  In my materialistic self-centeredness, I want to get rid of these troubles.  Maybe this isn’t about us?  Maybe these troubles that are promised in this world should not be seen as resented enemies and foes, but a medium?  Maybe they are an opportunity that combined with simple daily trust in God’s goodness – can be a blessing to the world, and glorify Him?  Maybe they are the canvas upon which God is able to write, “My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:10. 

Well, thank you for being my therapy session again, as I work through this grief.  I’m not sure that all of these thoughts are right or make sense, but I know this paradigm gives each day meaning for us in our situation.  Rather than an omnipresent feeling of “losing”, it gives me one simple question for each day – “How can this day (and these troubles) glorify God?”

True Beauty

 “That wasn’t a Bible study you led…it was an Ellen White Study.”  Intrigued by the blunt honesty of a cute stranger, I said what anybody in their right mind would have said.  “Why don’t you tell me more about that?”

“You said we were going to study the Bible, and we just read quotes from Ellen White.”  Her brow furrowed veiling her earnest brown eyes.

She was new on campus and those sweet Southern brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, and burned with fire.  What kept her on my mind was that she was more concerned about finding truth, than what I thought about her.   She was cute for sure, but lots of girls were cute.  Actually most girls seemed consumed with it, and little else.  I was looking for something different, and I couldn’t get her off my mind! 

That first conversation burgeoned into many more, and it wasn’t long before we found ourselves talking just about everywhere – walking on the track, sitting in a tree, by the river, in empty music rooms.  She was just so easy to talk to!!  We shared a love of the outdoors, camping, God, traditional family values, and service.  I can still feel the nostalgia of those balmy Berrien walks.

I was quite taken with this Southern Belle.  She had this beautiful rich brown hair with auburn highlights.  It dazzled so bright in the sun that you could look at nothing else.  At least I couldn’t.  It was thick and wavy, and she hid behind it like a buried treasure.  She smiled easily with a guarded sparkle in her pretty eyes, daring only the bravest man to try and get close.  It just so happened, that there was a long line of them.  I felt pity for them, even though I wasn’t much better off….yet.

Then the perfect opportunity presented itself – she didn’t have a car, but wanted to surprise her mom for her birthday.  Yee-Haw!!  Listen all you young men who are trying to convince a young lady that she wants to spend her life with you – if you have a chance to drive 10 hours one way to surprise her mother for her birthday, DO IT!!!! 

Whew!!  After that I was in…well…at least with her mom.  It only took three more years to get in with her.

Then the day came that I had been longing for – February 3, 2002.  We assembled, she looked so beautiful all pure and white – it only took an hour, and that beautiful treasure called Shallena Russell became my wife.

I was so excited, I thought I was done!  That is because I was stupid.  Now that’s a word my parents taught me not to use, but I don’t know what other word I could put there.  Not intentionally stupid of course (which only happens to a few special people), but unintentionally stupid (which happens to just about all young men when they are first married – bless you if you don’t know what I am talking about).  I cringe as I consider the arrogance of my youth.  I knew nothing about love.  Now, 19 years later, I may have learned 1/8 of an inch about the love mile, but then I thought I knew the whole thing.  She stuck with me, believed in me, honestly confronted me, and always supported me. 

We moved through the stages of life – Medical School, Residency, babies, a post at a mission hospital in Malawi, and what looked like the dreams of life coming true.  Then came the rude awakening – an unexpected diagnosis of breast cancer. 

Fortunately, the treatment seemed pretty simple and straightforward, and on the surgeon’s good word, we believed a surgery that removed her breasts would solve the problem once and for all.

Unfortunately, it did not.  A recurrence caught us off guard one week after our third baby was born, and within a few days we received the diagnosis – stage IV cancer.

Well, that was almost five years ago now.  I can’t explain to you what four and a half years of metastatic cancer treatment involves.  For the majority of the time she has been on chemotherapy.  Her hair has fallen out three times, her nails have been eroded, her skin has suffered, and she has perennial bruises on her body.  A port-o-cath sits on her upper left chest, and on bad days you can see the sleepless nights, nausea, diarrhea, pain, and fatigue written all around those beautiful brown eyes.

She doesn’t think she is beautiful anymore.  Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Shallena is more beautiful today than she has ever been.  Cancer and its treatment – tempered by the grace of God - have only made her beauty shine brighter.  The beauty of dedication to her family to the point of self-sacrifice.  The beauty of living generously.  The beauty of looking death square in the face and choosing faith.  The beauty of guarding hope in the middle of despair.  The beauty of gratitude when it could be so easy to complain.  The beauty of loving Jesus more and more each day.  The beauty of forgiveness freely given. 

We still love talking together, and we continue to share our love of the outdoors, camping, God, traditional family values, and service.  We treasure each day, and on this, her 44^th birthday, I am so grateful to God for sharing with me this True Beauty.  I love you, Shallena.  You are so beautiful.

Being Known

I almost didn't go. Jamie looked at me and said, "You don't have to go. It's okay. You've got the perfect excuse." Post-chemo day 8, my toughest. "No, I need to go," I replied. "At this point it wouldn't be good to cancel." This would be fun, anyway. We're all friends, after all. We loaded into the van, drove an hour to the meeting place. The kids ran to join their friends and the adults talked.

During the course of conversation, something changed, and I missed it. As we drove home I thought, "Wait, what just happened?" I felt confused and hurt. I thought a budding friendship had great potential but now I wasn't so sure. Texting the next morning to discuss the problem didn't help. I wrote in my prayer journal, but not about that, and went outside to join my family in the morning sun.

I did not realize what happened next until the day was over.

A friend I haven't heard from in a long time called and talked.

The farrier came over soon after. Abruptly he looked at me. "You know most all of us believe in a higher power?" I nodded. "Well", he said, "I think you're going be okay. I don't know why, I just feel it. You're going to be okay."

Then more long time friends called. While on the phone with them a friend stopped by for a chat.

More friends called. More friends stopped by. Finally, at the end of the day friends drove up to our house. "Five meals, one for each day of the next week." Out came gourmet food, filling my refrigerator. They even stopped by the grocery store to pick up produce for us! I was so surprised I'm sure I sounded unintelligent as I tried to thank them.

"I have not had a day like that since we were in Malawi--so many visitors and callers in one day!" I thought as I entered our house for the evening.

Exhausted, I put the children to bed. As I crawled under my covers, I sat up.

"Wait! What just happened?!"

Wonder filled me as I realized that God noticed that I hurt from my friend. He saw it, and knowing that I don't always catch things quickly, He sent so many friends in one day that I had to recognize that it was Him. He was that close to me. He sees and He cares! I was kind of blown over at the thought. Of course, I know this in my brain, but Sunday, I experienced it in real time!

There are so many prayers that I ask God to answer. He answered a prayer I didn't even know how to pray, just to let me know that He is aware of me. I am not forgotten. He sees and knows. Has He answered all of my requests? Not to my knowledge. But once I realize how close He is, it suddenly doesn't matter anymore. Once I really know that He is paying attention to my life, to me, I can trust Him more. I'm no longer alone. I'm not fighting a one-woman battle.

1 You have searched me, Lord,
    and You know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
    You perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
    You are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
    You, Lord, know it completely. Psalm 139:1-4

That is intimate knowing! God knows you, He is very close to you, and He knows the deep desires of your heart. You are not alone! Turn to Him. He longs to comfort you today.

Will she treat him gently?

I zip up my little boy's pajamas. His trusting hazel eyes look into my brown ones. His innocent lips speak my favorite name, "Mommy." As I caress his beautiful face between my two hands, all the tenderness of this little man-boy, this precious treasure, overwhelms me and tears I can't control begin to flow. My mind flashes ahead to the woman he will one day give his heart to, unite his life with, and I wonder, "Will she treat him gently?"

Will she see beneath the strong exterior that men wear to the loving little boy inside, who just wants to be loved? When the world demands he be strong despite what comes, will she treat him gently?

When he comes home from work grouchy, having had a tough day, will she count to ten, take a deep breath, kiss his cheek and tell him that she's glad that he's home? Will she allow him to have a bad day? Will she treat him gently?

When he leaves his clothes all over the floor, or right next to the laundry hamper, will she gripe at him or will she consider that he doesn't mean to be inconsiderate? His mind was already focusing on his work day. Will she treat him gently?

Will she stop to consider all he does for her and his children, to provide, to maintain the vehicles and house, to give them as much as he can of what they ask for? Will she realize that he gives himself for his family? When he falls asleep from exhaustion while she's talking to him, will she turn off the light and let him sleep, knowing they can talk in the morning? Will she treat him gently?

Will she ever look at him and realize that one day he was a precious little boy, and all he wanted was his mommy's love and his daddy's approval? Will she be able to imagine that one day he was laying on his mommy's bed while his mommy cupped her hands around his tiny, vulnerable and pure face, and prayed with all her heart that he would choose someone who would treat him gently?

Right then my husband walks out of the closet after getting dressed for the work day, handsome and strong. His tender blue-eyed gaze warms me to my very soul, and makes me feel contented and happy. I thought, do I treat him gently? 

When he's grouchy, do I forgive him or react in kind? Do I allow him to have a bad day? Do I treat him gently? 

When he wants to work all day outside on the day I've been hoping he'd help me accomplish some tasks inside the house, do I appreciate what he does, realizing that he is doing his best to maintain our home even if we have different ideas about what to do first? Do I treat him gently?

When he wants to talk and talk about work, do I listen with all my heart or do I tell him what to do? Do I treat him gently?

When we disagree about how to approach a situation with the children, do I become angry or realize that he has a valid point as their father? Do I treat him gently?

When he's telling me again that we need to curtail our spending and stick to the budget, do I bristle up thinking that he's mad at me or controlling me? Or do I realize that he works diligently to provide for us and our future, and I can show that I appreciate and respect that by doing to my best to eliminate unnecessary spending? Do I treat him gently?

Do I look at those loving blue eyes and imagine that he was once a little boy laying on his mommy's bed while she zipped his pjs, looking up into her blue eyes with complete trust and love? And that maybe, just maybe, she prayed that whomever he chose to marry would treat him gently?

Weeping in broken-hearted remorse, I pray, "Oh God, please give me the grace to treat my husband and sons and daughter gently, so they may learn to treat others gently, too."

Honestly Speaking

A friend sent me some homemade split pea soup (one of my favorites) with this written on the package: "Disappointments are His appointments! Change the D for an H!" 

November 25 will mark three and half years since I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. Until August, I have remained positive in general, hoping all things, believing all things are possible.

Since then I have struggled. Chemo always makes me feel depressed, so I expected that. This particular chemo seems to magnify that feeling. Worse than chemo are the head symptoms. They overwhelm me sometimes, and they have been increasing. We want so many things.

1. To make it through Thanksgiving and Christmas without the symptoms increasing dramatically, so that we don't need to begin a new treatment during this time. From this position, that is looking unlikely unless God intervenes.

2. I want to be a "present" mother and wife, not distracted by my symptoms. This is a continuous daily struggle.

3. And as you know, with every ounce of me, I want to be the mother to my children until they are grown, and longer, if God gives it to us.

I plead with God: 

"There are so many motherless children. Why should there be more?" 

"Who will praise you from the grave?"

"Lord save me, I perish!"

"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

"Father in heaven, it hurts terribly to have my beautiful husband and children deal with chronic worry because of me." 

"I know You are able to heal me. You gave everything to heal me. I don't deserve what so many others haven't received, and I can do nothing but ask. Please heal me. My only hope is You." 

"Dear God, please show me what to do next. I need guidance. I'm not wise enough to know for myself, and no one on earth can "cure" this disease. Please lead us."

"Father in heaven, Creator of heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in therm, why has it been so long? Three and a half years is not long to you, but it is to us. Lord, I'm so weary. Please give me strength. Please heal my brain. Enable me to remember my children."

"Father God in heaven, how will Jamie be both daddy and mommy to our two boys and one daughter while he also has to work?"

"God, I think I am the best option to be my children's mommy--You gave them to me! But You know more than I do. Please hold my children and Jamie close to Your heart."

"Lord, You know that so many people believe that You will heal me. So many are praying. May this be a testimony of Your power, whatever is best."

"God, please give me Your Holy Spirit, that if I must leave my children, I leave them with an example of faith, hope, and love. And if you give me more time on this earth, I can teach them to trust You more, with wisdom that You give me."

"Dear God, I surrender again, for the thousandth time, my need to be in control. I cannot control this. I'm so discouraged that anything will. I still know and believe that You can heal me if You are willing."

Then I think of how He has given me three and a half years, and Jamie and I are so grateful. Oncologists are moving towards treating this as a chronic disease, which is encouraging. I remember all you who pray for us, help us, and wish us so much good will and healing. I read of how Jesus lived just like you and me, and how He endured three and a half years of challenges and hardships--then He died. He died for your healing and for mine. "By His stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5.) It cost Him everything to heal you and me, and He wants us to accept the gift of life from His hands. His will is abundantly clear. When He was on this earth, He healed entire villages until no one was left ill. Not one person! Why this doesn't happen as much now I cannot say. 

We are told that the prayer of faith will save the sick. Thank you so very much for praying for our family, for me, for my husband who gives me so much love, and our treasured children. Right now they are sitting with me at the fireplace, writing and drawing their own stories. Such precious time! I pray this moment remains in their minds and in mine, forever.

"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned , they will be forgiven." James 5:15. What hope! What promise!

The March of the Kingdom

This is a post that I wrote on 7/26/19 - over a month ago when things weren't looking so good.  I didn't post it then because I didn't want to discourage anybody with our situation.  However, now that Shallena is responding to her treatment,  I thought it may be encouraging to share.  Happy Sabbath everybody!

Original post: 

"Call me..."

It is one of those unnerving moments when you can't find the door fast enough.

"What is it sweetie?" 

"They said it has spread to my brain, that there is pressure and bleeding, and that I have to go to the ER now."

The news that came about a month ago was not entirely unexpected, but it was characteristically more dramatic than we had hoped.  Shallena had been feeling concerning symptoms for several weeks, and when they didn't  resolve we knew something was wrong.  First blurry vision, then a bad headache, and more recently she had been losing the ability to walk.  

There have been some uplifts in our three year cancer journey, but from a disease progression standpoint it has mostly been down.  Different chemotherapy treatments have staved off the tumors  for a few months, but when they stop working, the cancer seems to come back more ravenous than before, and with each worsening cycle comes the threat of disability and death.  We have tried countless "alternative" treatments as well with similar unsatisfactory results.  It is easy to think this is a losing battle when we look at what cancer is doing right now. 

But thankfully there is another reality.  I almost said something that sounded voluntary like another "perspective" or "paradigm", but this is so overpowering that it is not really even a choice to acknowledge it.  It is what I call the "march of the kingdom".  

While with blurry eyes I have watched my wife's physical health deteriorate over the last couple months, there has been a countercurrent.   I think it started about three months ago when one groggy night (which we have had a lot of recently), she said to me, "Jesus is my Savior".  Shallena has dedicated her life to Jesus from a young age, and together we have no higher joy and calling than to follow Him, but this was a new and deeper experience.  The Savior had come closer and touched her heart in a more personal sense than before, and it gave us both a heaven sent dose of much needed joy and peace. 

Then a few weeks later Shallena described how during a walk one day, God lifted off her shoulders pain and regrets that she had carried for decades.  She had pled for them to be taken before, but now they were.  Healing, forgiveness, and heaven-sent freedom!  

More recently while reading inspiration, God has spoken straight to her heart from John 14, the Psalms, and the blessings in Deuteronomy.  Actually, the faithfulness of God as documented in the Bible has become her lifeblood, and she is visibly animated by the account of His goodness.  Even though at times with severe headaches and blurry vision it has been hard to read, she consistently endures the struggle, because it feeds her soul.  

I think from the beginning of our unexpected cancer story, we have tried to find the blessings and silver linings.  But now, it's like Shallena isn't trying anymore.  She doesn't have to.  God has been moving on her spirit in such a gentle but persuasive way that her gratitude is reflexive and contagious.  

Even while she has endured brain surgery, piles of drugs, and the somewhat depressing options for further treatment, the love of God has overpowered her.  (See "He loves me" post from 7/11).

This makes me think of what Paul says in 1 Cor 4:16: "That is why we never give up.  Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day." (NLT).  

And so, even while it could be easy to be discouraged with our situation (and at times we are), it is also difficult for me to not be taken with the patient protracted tsunami of grace that God is washing over our family during this time.  His kingdom is marching on, and we can't do anything other than join in the celebration with grateful tears.  Please don't understand me to say that we have given up hope that Shallena can be healed.  Not at all!  Paradoxically, our hope has never been more settled.  But the healing of the spirit - so evident over the last few months - is the signature of the Great Physician fast at work, steadily doing those miracles for which we have been praying.  I also expect she will be putting those bright pink running shoes back on soon!

Thank you to all those walking this road with us.  Thank you for standing with us, kneeling with us, weeping with us, breaking with us, and loving us.  I could write a whole other blog about the way God's grace has reached out and soothed our wounds through the kindness of family, friends, and strangers who have become some of our dearest traveling companions.  Lastly, thank you tonight for celebrating the march of the Kingdom of Heaven with us.  We pray that His kingdom is marching forward in you too.

"God's kingdom isn't something you can see...God's kingdom is here with you." Luke 17:20,21 CEV.

Reason

I’ve thought it, haven’t you? When you hear about someone with a terrible diagnosis, it’s natural to think, “Oh how sad! Unless they have a miracle, they’re dying.”

If the sick person is a friend or acquaintance, you may say something to them like, “I’m praying God’s will be done.” Or you talk to someone else about that person and say, “If it’s God’s will for them to get well….” If the person who is sick is a good friend, sometimes entirely by accident you might use an if-then statement, “If you get well, then… .” When the person is a family member, you may lay on the “if”, such as, “IF you get well, then… .”

Sometimes you think it’s your duty to make sure the person realizes they have a mortal illness.

But guess what? Most likely that person knows. They’ve had time to think about it even if they haven’t had much time. The positivity and hope you see in the person is not denial, it’s a hope born of strength beyond, and is a result of crawling through a very dark, claustrophobic tunnel and coming through the other side. Does that mean the diagnosis has changed? Not necessarily. The person has changed. 

Let’s get personal. Many people have told me that I’m strong. The strength any of you may attribute to me is not from within me naturally. I’ve spent my times in lamentation and desperation, in intense agony for my children and my husband. God gives me strength, knowing that people are praying for me gives me strength, and each of you who help carry our load and let me rest—that gives me strength.

The fact is that when I die, I no longer struggle, but my family will hurt living life without me. I’ve mourned a potential future for my family without their wife and mommy. I’ve mourned the carefree innocence my children have lost. Jamie and I have had to face the reality of our mortality at an age when most people are still focused on competing for success.  I have surrendered my life and my family to God. He does not change, His strength is given to me in my weakness, and I have confidence that He will take care of my family even if I don’t get to anymore. He IS love. Knowing that gives me strength to face the future. Even more, it helps me to not worry about the future, but to live today. Today I am alive! Today I’m so very grateful to be with my family! Today is a gift from God, and truly, that’s all you have, too.

So you see, I have to live. I can’t let my family go through that hurt. That’s not denial, that’s reason.

Romans 5:3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

He Loves Me

“Sweetheart, I need to tell you something.” 

Jamie’s voice was gentle as he knelt on the floor beside where I was lying on the bed.

“I saw the MRI report that was done after your surgery. The next largest tumor is 2.5 cm, and it’s in your cerebellum. It's inoperable...”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“...I wish they told us that in the hospital.”

Two hot tears dropped onto my pillow.

Silence.

Sobbingly I said, “I didn’t know life would be like this.”

He tenderly rubbed my cheek.

“It’s so hard, Jamie. I’m glad I didn’t know in advance, though.”

He put his head down on the bed. There we bowed before God, too weak to think thoughts or pray.

Then something hurtled into my heart. Deeply I felt it penetrate.

God loves me.

A conviction I’ve never known before.

He loves me.

The tears fall freely now.

This road could get more difficult. We need your prayers and faith to carry us even now, as the symptoms daily increase. We need the wisdom God promises to know what to do next. We need peace and freedom from fear as we endure this fiery trial. But God loves me. And Jamie. And my precious children Jedidiah, Abigail, and Caleb. And you. He is with you and me always, to the very end. “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Because He can’t. He can’t take us hurting. He can’t let us go through it alone.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me... .”Ps 23:4

Naked

Tough. Strong. Brave. Courageous. I’ve got this. I can handle it, after all, I have a very good life. I have absolutely no reason to feel sorry for myself.

And then…

Intimacy.

I stand undressed before my husband. He hugs me as insubordinate tears flood my eyes. Does he realize that I don’t want this, yet I desperately need this? Subconsciously I avoid intimacy with him. It’s too painful, it releases bulging emotions that I try to keep zippered shut. Emotions so strong I can’t speak, the sobbing is so hard, so deep.

Fear. I feel fear. Fear of what I want with all my heart. Fear despite our desperate precautions, because pregnancy could mean death for me, or our baby, or both.

I look down at my swollen body, twenty-five pounds heavier now than before chemo and steroids began pulsing through my veins. My face is shaped like the moon. Curves are where straights should be. Scars litter my abdomen. Sweet round breasts with soft nipples are replaced with long jagged indentations. I feel so unfeminine, so unattractive, so undesirable. Ashamed.

Choking, I attempt to explain to Jamie, but he stops me.

“Sweetheart, I want you. These scars are our scars; monuments of what we’ve been through together. I love you, and…

Baby, you still light my fire!”

He loves me. He has seen my vulnerability, sensed my insecurity, and covered my shame with his acceptance and love. He lives his vows with integrity, to love me in sickness and in health. We both grow stronger because of his love.

Maybe you don’t have cancer, but most of us don’t get through life without hurt. We put on our game faces, convinced that we have ourselves and our lives under control, trying to deny the naked truth that we are weak, limited, vulnerable. Things happen that we cannot control. Maybe you lose a house or a loved one to a wildfire or earthquake. Maybe your spouse or significant other walks away and never looks back. Maybe indescribable evil hurts you, or worse—your child. Maybe you’ve made choices that hurt yourself or others, and you feel ashamed. Maybe you’ve decided that God doesn’t exist, and just when you’re desperate you cry out to Him, and then you feel ashamed again. He doesn’t worry about that. He has made a commitment to love you in sickness and in health, and He has already died to show you that He will keep His word to you at all costs. It is His joy to cover your shame with His love! God loves you more than you can comprehend, and He wants you.

"'Later I passed by, and when I looked at you and saw that you were old enough for love, I spread the corner of my garment over you and covered your naked body. I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign LORD, and you became mine.” Ezekiel 16:8