Winging My Way in Life's Dusk-Light

I am prompted this morning by my quiet wonderings our of yesterday's event as big expensive medical machines scanned silently for a battle report; my Provenge-trained guys in white hats against the fierce black-hatted prostate cancer thugs.  Mostly it's long-forgotten, esoteric writings that give hints of glory found at life's end.  I thought it was time for an update.  Thus, this morning's journal entry.  Long, but deep.  Don't start reading if you don't have five more minutes to grab some dusk-light.

Thoughts along the trail are more like a slide show than a You Tube video of the journey; more a head and heart report than a travelogue.  Oh, but what a journey it has been--AND IS!  There is room in my heart but no words my lips can shape to express the inexplicable glory of Grace and the presence of Jesus deep down and throughout my being.

Seems my life's light is taking on the faint glow of dusk. My reflections may be prompted by the old fashioned stinky day, now yesterday's history; too busy by half, too unfulfilling by whole.  Or, could it be the passion for Cari, Taylor, Colton, Brooke, Gracen, Charis (oh, yes, now there is The Gift that keeps on giving), and Kira.  And Matt?  Distinct because sons-in-law as best friends reflects the unique role we play in each other's lives.  Or, it may be that all of this is framed by the extraordinary love of an extraordinary woman and which makes the reading of today's Scripture so powerful with joy that I find myself--again, inexplicably--grateful, even excited, that the Journey's end is just over there around the corner shimmering in the somehow glorious glow of dusk.

Whatever the source--or, The Source--this glow from the deeps of my soul and the tear forming just above each corner of my smile encompasses a very small world.  I have no fame of worth that is not granted by these few.  And, it is enough.  And it brings cherished light to David's rejoicing in Psalm 9, spoken out of the terror of life gone wrong, "I'm thanking God from a full heart with whistling, laughing, singing, and jumping for joy."  Then my pal Apostle Paul said of a life of worship portrayed vividly in Philippians 4(v4-9) that a "sense of God's wholeness will settle you down."  To which I said, "AAAaaaaah, yes, this God I worship and walk with is worthy of more praise than I can give Him."  And I can ride around that corner on  the trail lighted only dimly at dusk but somehow bright and alluring as if I were finding Home.

Journaling Wild and Gray

Don't make too much of the "Gray" thing.  Life is bright, exciting, full--too full.  "Gray" gives mystical tone to the Wild Goose, the description of the Holy Spirit by my Celtic forefathers.  And mystical and myserious and magical and mighty are the wings I follow.  Seldom predictable are the glens and glades, the mountains and the valleys, the glistening lakes and the swamplands, He will take me to.  Wonderfully odd that He is the portion both indwelling and guiding me of the immutable God with Whom there is "no shadow of turning."  And Who awaits my presence.

The "Wild" part sure fits, though. For some--not all--"wild" and "wonderful" are twins.  I'm pensive today.  You can smile when pensive, you know. I smiled scanning my journal and pondering what a wonderful and wild life He had assigned me.  Yes, "assigned."  It's a Grace thing.

So, I wrote this morning.  Really, I WROTE.  By hand.  In my journal. That holds lots over keyboarding.  Keep in mind the frame of reference; cancer, Deep Rivers Family Ranch, the Book (Generational Fathering), and a joyful marriage that fills in the pastels of a wild and wonderful life.

One journal section reads,(After reading, again, Proverbs 19:21, "We humans keep brainstorming options and plans, but God's purpose prevails.").  "I make my plans as if the end were in sight.  Well, it is.  And I do.  It's just that the fog of God's mystery shrouds the milemarkers ahead.  I guess I'll catch a glimpse of my Father's cairns here and there. Wassat I hear? I believe it's the honk of my Friend luring me on ward into the Grand Mystery."

How am I...REALLY?

My blogging sabbatical now over, I find myself a wee bit guilty about not keeping my Wild Gray Goose pals up to date. 

I affirm "Wild."  This has been a wild, wild and wonderful time, these last few months for this cowboy and his bride.  Halted writing Generational Fathering and spent our time, energy, a some of our limited (very) wealth with our extraordinary family, Matt and Cari (daughter) Pettit and their new venture, Deep Rivers Family Ranch.

If I said "we're passing the baton" would you get the analogy?  It's a real-life picture of what the Lord God and Trusted Heavenly Father is doing in all our lives.  Picture us still huffing and puffing having finished the hard runs around the track, but we're watching Matt and Cari pick up the pace to rescue struggling families by interventional whole-family therapy on the ranch using equine assisted therapy with their five horses.  Sound exciting, doesn't it?

Ok, now for the real and very personal issue in our lives.  Yes, I am gearing my writing effort back up to see marketable drafts of  Generational Fathering ready by summer.  This is framed by the advance of my Prostater Cancer.  Stage Four Metasticised.  BUT you need to know three things.

1) I am receiving hopeful new and recently FDA approved Provenge.  Treats and "trains" my own blood to attack the pc cells. 
2) I am under no limitations, pain, or even awareness of the cancer.  I do have some interesting side effects of the female hormones as part of the treatment.  Of the 37 possible side effects, I get only hot flashes.  Carolyn and I laugh often as we try to syncopate hot flashes.  As a tentive marker down the trail, I am counting on five years. 
3) I am in full trust in my Lord's choice of events for my life.  "Finishing well" has new, more urgent meaning.  While more relaxed and less "commanding"  (Carolyn credits the hormones) in my lifestyle, I have this exciting sense of being in the closing stages of the great chess game of life where every move counts.  In my case, I am confident of the victory that has been won on my behalf  by the Lord Jesus with whom I will spend eternity.  Lots of freinds and family to meet there, including the ones who'll say "Thanks for introducing me to salvation and to eternal life."

Does this tell you the story?

GRAY GOOSE GETS WINGS OF HOPE

Well, okay, I agree:  Time to update the winged saga of the Gray Goose, sometimes feeling like an old Coot*. 

Friends follow their greeting these days with "How are you?"  They didn't use to ask, not so intently and sincerely at least.  "Fine," I say, wishing I could explain that.  Maybe I should hand out a small printed paper.  Prostate Cancer is a strange bird.  A Crow, a Raven, maybe.  What's its purpose?  He designed the bird and the disease which at first glance has no constructive purpose.
Wrong.

I see life much more clearly now.  At first, the renewed PC got my attention.  Fourth stage with spots on a rib and a glowing lymph node got way more than my attention.  Not tears (well, Carolyn a little as she processed what the Urologist was explaining in his very best bedside maner learned from experience, not Oncology 101).  It got me thinking and--stand by for this one--planning and smiling.

"So this is 'it,'" I mused.  Cool.  Now I know.  My days really ARE numbered.  BUT, the doc nor the Lord, two of my three best care givers, will tell me exactly what number.  DANG. 

Then he said in tone so upbeat he had me leaning into the end of his comment, "Great.  You are a prime candidate for Provenge," and he hand drew a chart showing the cancer's progress (lowered PSA but climbing).  It's a new, expensive but radical and highly acclaimed innoculation.  They take my blood, rev it up somehow then a couple of days later return it to me for these gung-ho white corpuscles to attack the black bad guys.   Not like chemo (that's still a later option), but I do sit for a couple or three hours for a slow transfusion.  Cool again.  I will be catching up on my high stack of books in prep for my own. 

I'm ready to journal this more faithfully for those of you who care (or are simply interested).    

 This old Gray Goose* ain't falling out of the sky any time soon. In fact, I believe I've got new wings.

*("Coot" is commonly known as a Mud Hen.  Odd, mostly unattractive, version of the wondrous Duck.  I know, cause I'm seeing a flock of them right now out my window looking at them pooping all over the fairway AND the green.  Black without color except a silly little white beak.  They fly, but barely, looking really stupid.  Who designed these guys anyway?  Oh, sorry, Lord.  They mingle with the Ducks standing out for their colorlessness. THEN the Canadian Geese fly over.  They almost never land on the pond. Too, well..."common" and plain a setting.  But they signal their mystery and majesty in their honk and their exquisite formation.  I DO NOT WANT TO BE REMEMBERED AS AN "OLD COOT."  Lord, only you can give me wings of the Wild Goose and the haunting, alluring voice of wonderful promise as if the future were a life to be cherished.  And so it is...and shall be.)

MYSTERIOUS AND WONDROUS

Pretty much sums it up, Mysterious and Wondrous.  That date just below, April 14, should read today, July 18.  I liked reading what I sensed in the journey back then.  The mystery is in the Sovereign Father's gracious care over me compounding the mystery of  Prostate Cancer.  Don't feel a thing.  It's the monster lurking in the shadows. But as death has no sting, Grace tames the monster. While it is still ugly and barely restrained by medication, the taming is in my sheer lack of fear. The Gray Goose comforts me; His call is slightly  muted and doesn't drive me wild as before, but there is no more assuring a chorus, than His call...I swear I hear tones of the Heavenly Host echoing in the background.

PASSING...NOT AWAY BUT ON

Following the call of the Wild Goose frames the way early Celtics saw God's leading, His Holy Spirit. That quiet, haunting, clear call comes from within for those indwelt by that Spirit.  Rebirth through Jesus,  our Savior, assures the Goose has nested, though He never rests.

Then there is life's long journey to consider...actually our lives are a very short trail when looking back from its latter parts.  It's value beyond survival is all about following the call of the Wild Goose.  The unexpected--like our son's sudden, untimely death at 31--or the inevitable--like aging often accelerated by cancer like my slowly progressing variety--is an expected part of the short story we call our life.

When seen in this context, life's design and purpose takes eternal dimensions.  We all think about it now and then.  Life's end, I mean.  Ironically, the earlier the better.  Here is where I put in my pitch.  If I may extend the metaphor,  I want to repeat the Wild Goose's call.

Life's end is not about "passing away," a strange euphonism, to be sure. LIFE IS ABOUT PASSING ON. Ok, "passing on" to a better, an eternal life.  Sure.  But what about passing on the values, the spirit, the milestones of a Walk With God to those heirs of your journey can impact what seems sure a much darker, more chaotic world than we have known.  It's called LEGACY.  And a godly legacy is not accidental, it's intentional.

That's why I invite visitors here to www.gendads.com, my blog.  The blog is all about passing IT on.  This site is about what's going on in me.  Inside the cancer (prostate) journey and in my heart, a heart made so much richer by my following the Wild Goose call to invest my life in my grandchildren.

WILD AND GRAY STILL

This is sort of a homecoming.  I've been away.  Not "from" but "to."  To the family, to the core of my heart, to my family and the legacy I want to leave.  The cancer only plays a small part.  Prostate cancer is slow stuff.  The treatment is sort of funky, but tolerable.


NOT RIDING OFF INTO THE SUNSET ANY TIME SOON.

What centers my attention is the book.  The book is what I am doing to capture the essence of parenting that has vanished from our culture. Generational Fathering tells the story my life fleshes out with my young family and grandchildren. For all the poetic allure of "wild" and "gray," the Goose does come home to the nest, bringing his strength, his stories, his insights. That is not to say these months have been ordinary.  Look back at the journey in late summer with my grandson and soninlaw as part of the Year of Passage on www.gendads.com. Challenge, pain, investment, recovery...and the future.

Why this post, why now?  Because this is more about me, my personal journey with my Lord. I've been telling about the incidental, though important, side of my life that deals with my wonderful family and my commitment to so my share to produce good and godly lighthouses for the dark future ahead.

So, ok, how IS it going? Physically? Well. The docs are thrilled at virtually all my numbers. Even my PSA is way down.  Emotionally? Good, considering I'm on feminine hormones. I need a few more hugs and get a little more moody than in the past. My wife is the jewel in my life, and now we share hot flashes. Spiritually?  Loving my walk with Jesus.  Constantly fresh, rich, and able to see others drawn to Him.

So, "wild?"  Still.  "Gray?" A bit more. And I'm following and filled with the Holy Spirit who the ancients called God's Wild Goose.