WHEN A FRIEND ASKS A SIMPLE QUESTION: "How's it going?"

None of us need walk alone on our way to the Wedding.  Though the Groom awaits, the journey there is anything but smooth. 

Got a note this morning.  "How's it going?"

He's a friend.  A good one.  Never "met" him, though.  Except electronically, and that was through mutual comrades in the Ransomed Heart Net online-sphere.  Then our similar blogs Strategic Fathering.  I knew he was my kinda guy when he signed off, "JC Dude".  "So," he asked, knowing I'd recently discovered that my once-contained Prostate Cancer had begun to wander,"How's it going?"  So, my answer starts out cute, then got more more serious.  Reflect on the latter. 

No, "fun" isn't a form of denial in this case.  It's a field leveler.  When the notion of life's finality become reality there are several routes built around attitude. 

Here's the one I took.  Wonder with me if you'd take the same trail through the forest, the one to the sunny glen or through the dark, if majestic, evergreens. . .    
 

"This is fun. Sorta. I go up to the vaunted City of Hope Friday and Tuesday to get super-scanned to verify what we all know, the cancer is unhappy. It’s moving out of it’s historic home and seems to be taking its time to find a new happy place. It’s renting a couple of apartments in my lymph nodes. Probably temporarily. The docs tell me it won’t be happy until it settles in Boneville. While he’s not exactly a real estate developer, the "urological oncologist" (not sure I'd want that on my business card) knows how to discourage homeless wandering undesirables. Trouble is, he has to spray the whole neighborhood with a nasty hormone stuff. Funny things happen in the neighborhood when girly spray goes all over.

Speaking of homes, doc said I’m heading for the Ultimate Home.  Sure ‘nuf, jes like everyone. I get the advantage of knowing which train I’ll get on.  Others wonder.  Now I can get busy with other things.  But that train don’t run like no German bullet train with a precise schedule. Anyhow, that station is so far down the road these days, that I’ll probably get a short cut on some unexpected commuter. I told him that’s fine, ‘cause I want to board my train with my boots on. He agreed I’m likely to board the Stupid Surprise Flyer.  How--even when--I get there ain't nearly so important as its destination; pearly turnstyles and golden tracks.

If that’s too much poetry for you, I’m fine. The cancer THINKS it’s fine. A couple of docs have good plans to keep me fine and the cancer miserable.  it might even give up and leave the neighborhood entirely.

It pays to be a sovereigntist. I’m the object of the greatest love by the most incredible Lover full of Grace, Mercy, and passion for my soul. I’m pulling out Sacred Romance by Eldredge. Last two chapters remind us all this life is but the courtship. The wedding and the Happy Forever After home I’ll move in to with my Groom is what we’re preparing for. Odd…that sorta talk makes that wedding seem too far away. Not planning to move the date up, though. That’s His call.

BY THE WAY, MY NEW GENDADS POST SERIES IS SHORT BUT SWEET :  What two questions would you ask Jesus if he joined you on a short walk?  You also may want to answer for Him.  He already has the answers laid out for you in Scripture.