Ti(red) of sick treatment

As my friend, Diana, has endured chemotherapy, I have been fortunate enough to spend lots of time with her. She would go for her week-long monthly treatments at HUP and I would bring her back home. We made a few scheduled stops before we arrived at her house: lunch, drop off the new prescriptions, and food shopping.

We had this funny little routine. I would drop her off in front of the grocery store and then park the car. I knew she would always go to the right first, so I usually caught up with her in the dairy section. Then the fun began.

If you have ever been a bald, pale, slow-moving cancer patient with tubes hanging out of your chest then you can totally relate to how strangers treat you. We could get away with ANYTHING in that store. One time, we were standing in front of the milk. The store was very crowded that day, so lots of people were waiting to get their carts in close enough to grab a gallon. I ended up seeing two or three people that I knew while standing there, and hugging and lingering and chatting resulted. Normally, other shoppers would express their impatience, whether verbally or facially, but since I was with Diana everyone pretended to wait pleasantly as I talked on and on.

If Diana walked down a crowded aisle, everyone smiled and gave her the right of way, always giving her a wide berth to maneuver. On occasion, Diana would be drunk driving with her cart, bump into someone, but then THEY would apologize to HER. We just marveled at the change in human behavior and took full advantage of the royal treatment – often asking for TWO pieces of American cheese at the deli counter.

I saw this article last week about another Dianne. Dianne Odell lived in an iron lung for almost 60 years until a power failure ended her life. Although very sad, one particular line in the story grabbed my attention. Because she was confined to a 7 ft. tube, one of the health care workers said, “Everyone she encountered came to her because they cared about her…so she grew up in her 61 years thinking every person is good.”

Why do we straighten up when we encounter people who are obviously suffering? I wonder why we fail to see each others’ less obvious diseases. Maybe we should all just shave our heads and start some sort of bumper sticker/T-shirt/Bono campaign that proclaims, “I’m just as ti(red) of this as you are. Wanna be nice to each other?”

Or we could fill a crop duster or two with chemo.

For some crazy reason, this quote made me laugh:

"Just remember, if the world didn't suck, we would all fall off."
-Unknown

Grab the bras and GO!

Did you happen to read the headline last week about the “uncontacted tribe” that was discovered in the Amazon? The tribe was one of the few remaining people groups in the world that lived completely isolated from the rest of us, and from looking at the photos, it seems pretty clear that the sight of the aircraft that spotted them was pretty unnerving for them.

After I read it, I sat for a second and considered what “uncontacted” meant. Some of these considerations were pretty cool. Think of it – they have no idea about the Holocaust or the bomb that fell on Hiroshima. They don’t have hand guns (from the looks of their native garb, it’d be awfully tough to conceal one anyway). None of them appear to be wearing constrictive undergarments to appear thinner or to defy gravity. I did not see one gas pump with a ridiculous per gallon price on it and I did not notice one organized church (I could be wrong, because that last hut may have an L.E.D. sign flashing service times, but it’s hard to tell).

Oh, I know it’s only a matter of time until someone is called to be a missionary to these remote folks (it probably happened during an altar call at some point in yesterday’s services somewhere). We’ll race in with our English Bibles and straightened teeth, and then we’ll tell them about Jesus and how He wants them to wear pants. We’ll call their gods “pagan” and their lifestyle “barbaric” and, eventually, the missionaries will appear on CBN to tell their story of taking the gospel into this savage region. It’ll probably become a movie produced by the same people who did “Facing the Giants” (you know, the movie that showed the world how God controls the outcome of high school football games and that everything in your life works out PERFECTLY if you are a Christian).

I’ll admit that I have this snarky little fantasy that goes like this: World makes contact with uncontacted tribe. We are amazed to discover that they love and worship one Creator God and His Incarnate Form - which they have given a really cool name that makes us giggle, something like “Ladee Mucka PoopyPoo.” They love this God with all their hearts, souls, minds and strength and they worship Him in spirit and in truth. They are kind and hospitable people, sharing the things they have with each other and keeping no record of wrongs. They don’t care about skin color or gender or intelligence, you can belong to their tribe regardless. Their language doesn’t even have words for “genocide” or “military” or “sanctuary redecorating committee.” How fascinating would it be, if these uncontacted people live so in tune with God, that they consider others better than themselves and love their enemies to the point of dying for them? What if they understand holiness to be about having God on the inside?

They probably wouldn’t want to embrace our evolved culture even if you offered them the whole outside world. When interviewed, they’d say, “No thanks. We think you’re a little too barbaric for us.”

I would just smile and wait for Neiman Marcus to begin selling designer loin cloths.

And the Weekend Word winner is...

What an intense battle this week! THREE, count 'em, THREE whole entries and an apology from my friend for missing a breakfast date. It's all going according to plan.

The winner is:

militia207 "As the television show The Tudors starts winding down we see Queen Anne Bolin losing her head over her failing marriage while King Henry becomes completely uxorious to eventual wife number 03 Lady Jane Seymour."

Even though I hated "Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman," (who knew she married Henry VIII? was that before Dancing With the Stars?) I am a shameless fan of "The Tudors." So, militia207 is this week's winner and champion.

Weekend Word 4

In spite of my own participation last week, I am sticking with the Weekend Word Contest. A little sentimental, I guess.

Click on the word below, save the whales, throw off your Depends, and use it in a sentence. Post your witty and engaging original words into the Comments section below. Winner will be chosen by a panel of imparital judges (me) and his/her/its name will be posted on Sunday night at 10 p.m. est. Good luck.

uxorious

Have a great weekend.

Rearview May 2008

At the end of each month I will take a quick look back, update you on any outstanding situations, and most likely apologize for the crazy stuff I wrote.

May 2008:

I purchased a Christian fish magnet for the back of my car. Instead of legs, mine is sprouting horns. If you like C.S. Lewis, try something by N.T. Wright.

J.J. has had to go to Grandpa’s house multiple times to retrieve more frogs. Just when we think we’ve got them all, my parents discover another. J.J. thinks he put about 30 tadpoles in the pond last summer, so my parents may find themselves in the middle of an Egyptian plague before it’s all over. Speaking of plagues, the junta in Myanmar is being fickle about allowing relief workers into the country even as the threat of starvation for thousands of orphaned children increases.

My friend Diana has a full head of hair and a bone marrow biopsy on June 2 to confirm her remission. We will celebrate with a Fiesta Salad after the appointment. Noah is vertical once again. We had to resort to a brief hospitalization and another antibiotic, but he is back to teasing his sister, rolling his eyes, and being generally wonderful. Interestingly, he is still fretting about science grades in his sleep. I am bracing myself for the coming report card.

No, I never tried to milk a gerbil. Good question, though.

At the rate I’m going, a career in telemarketing is looking more and more probable. The publishing industry moves at a glacial pace which works both for me and against me. In the meantime, all donations of toilet paper, canned goods and gasoline being accepted.

Yes, you will often see references to Shakespeare on my blog. I’ve had a shameless crush on him for years. Please don’t tell Steve.

I'm still trying to write love on arms, legs, minds, hearts and the occasional building (when I remember to put a can of spray paint in the trunk). Luckily, my mother has decided to go ahead and keep me, in spite of my potty mouth. She did threaten me with a bar of soap, however. Remind me to tell you the vacuum cleaner story on a day that her computer is on the fritz. Oh, it’s a good one.

My dear friend Rick is still waiting for the world to change. In the meantime, he cares for his son and remains my very favorite sissy.

The recurring theme of my outraged astonishment and finger pointing at the idiocy of real live people, including football coaches and Memorial Day picnickers, has got to stop. From now on, instead of getting distressed, I will simply yell out, “Bite my weltanschauung!” and be done with it.

Going to church this week, but taking my baseball mitt with me, just in case I’m surprised by a foul ball hit into the pews.

I’ve been a blogger for one month. If you’ve been a loyal reader (or a disloyal one) I say, “THANK YOU!” Your honest and dishonest feedback is always welcome. Please keep sending invitations to my blog to your friends. And, no, I will not be offended if you feel the need to include some sort of disclaimer.

Love God. Love each other. Go Phillies.

Agree or Disagree?

“Our job is not to figure out the how. The how will show up out of a commitment and belief in the what.”
–Jack Canfield

Evangelism 101

Did you read the story about the church that is offering free $500 gas cards if you visit their services? Apparently, if you fill out a card at the beginning, and you can sit through the rest, one lucky name will be drawn out of the offering plate at the end of the hour and a winner will be declared. The article does not mention if participation in the altar call is a condition, too.

I’d be interested in hearing how it all turns out. If it doesn’t work, never fear, the church can always hire these guys. Watch the DREAM ushers below.



thanks Brad and Eric for the posts.

What I've written so far today

istock