A Story Worth Telling?

Folks have said this...write your story.

Publish your poems.

Leave the words that have defined your life.

And I don't know how.

Cancer is a process, not an event...and so is faith.

I began with attitude...you-can't-kill-me!

But it can, and it will.

Then there was acceptance...well-OK-God's-will-and-all-that.

And this brings us to today...I'll-go-as-hard-as-I-can-for-as-long-as-I-can.

This isn't The Last Lecture, or Tuesdays With Morrie. I have no wisdom to impart, and I can't tell you how to achieve your dreams (aside from saving stray dogs, I don't even know what mine were...but maybe the stray dog thing is enough for one lifetime).

I'm just a bloke who found God in life's roughest neighbourhood, and I'm OK with dying horribly because I'm not alone. There doesn't seem much more to say.

I mean, things are physically terrible. Can't walk a few steps without running out of breath, the tumours in the throat (mentioned last week...yeah, there's another one just came up) really hurt, and mealtime's kind of like a heavy weightroom session. Painful.

Let's not talk about sleep, and especially not about dunny breaks. Please.

And I'm happy. I believe in God, and that there's purpose here, and not knowing the Why is OK.

What, my friends, might you want to hear? PLEASE tell me in the comments. I'm at sea here.

Normally I do not re-use sonnets; bad form and all that, but this one, written for Steve Laube's post about the books he's looking for, does seem to fit.

I wonder if this story

is one folks want to hear;

it's testament to glory

amidst the thorns of fear.

It's not about a cuddle-God,

but One who's stern and straight,

and even though my life was flawed

and cancer is my fate,

in my heart He doth abide,

and walks beneath the blue-sky dome

always, always at my side

to speak of my eternal home,

and forsking all His dignity,

in the night He weeps for me.

Music from John Tesh (at Red Rocks) with Trading My Sorrows (please click here if the video doesn't come up on your device).

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Tell Me What You Feel

 "Uh, Barb? Could you feel along my windpipe?" PLEASE, say you don't feel anything.

"Sure." Eyes squinted, concentration.

"Well..?" PLEASE!

"I feel a big lump. Does it hurt?"

"Yeah" Oh, crap.

"Oh, crap."

Who says great minds don't think alike?

When you held the tumour in your hands,

pray tell, what did you feel?

Did this help you understand

that death is close, and real,

or did you ken this fact already,

knowing what had gone before?

Will this help you hold and steady

the jumper standing ‘fore the door,

the man who does not want to go,

but knows that fate just will not wait?

The man who wav’ring, wants to know

what lies beyond that gate?

Can you tell, and channel grace

to the soul who fears what he must face?

Music from Guster, with Do You Love Me (click here if your device doesn't bring up the video).

This song has a history for us...every Christmas, Albuquerque puts on the River of Lights, a twinkle-light display at the botanical gardens (nope, didn't happen in 2020). The last one I was well enough to attend, I head this song over the speakers. Caught some lyrics, looked it up, and absolutely loved it.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Tribute To A Fine Wife

Barb says it's the screams that wake her up. For some reason, around midnight, the ordeal is set worse. Perhaps my body relaxes, and a tumour is freed to do its evil will, blocking breath and squeezing out life (poetic description, eh?).

I say that screaming in pain is un-manly. I am more giving vocal outlet to a stern displeasure.

"Yeah. Whatever."

And she sits up with me, until the tide washes out once again.

And thus, for this and for so much more, she deserves a tribute.

I need a nickname for my wife,

one to truly fit her,

so at risk to limb and life

I’m going to call her ‘Critter’.

She wanders where the wild things be,

not shy, not in the least;

saints and demons turn and flee

because she is a beast.

The ground, it shakes beneath her feet,

the very mountains give applause;

when she’s at God’s judgement seat,

her presence will give pause.

He’ll pass a hand across His brow;

“I guess you’re taking over now?”

I was going to use Chris deBrugh's Lady in Red as the musical theme, but went with Manic, instead, fom the movie Flashdance (click here if your device doesn't show it). Barb looks a lot like Jennifer Beals, and there's a Pit Bull in the video that looks like our Roscoe.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Fragility of Time

 I knew things would get fragile. I just didn't want to admit it, but those days are here.

Sleep is rare, and breathing is hard, with an uncommaned 'follow-up' to every cough that tastes just rancid.

And the coughs center from a tumour that is poking through the ribcage. That may not be a good sign.

Sometimes I have one of the dogs out or a walk, look back to the house...every direction seems uphill...and wonder how I can ever get back.

I wish there were someone here, some beast of a dude around whose shoulder I could put my arm, and accept some help. (Yes, Barb's a beast...one of her nicknames is Critter, but in a good way, and if she's reading this, I'm probably dead.)

And these days are so precious, so full of colour and life and meaning and value.

I don't want to go home to Jesus, not just yet. I want to stay for as long a I can, and live, now that I've truly learned how.

This bright and fragile run of days

cannot last; I ken that now,

but this is not news that dismays,

for in the gloaming I’ve learned how

to cherish what I love the best,

pay meet obeisance to the friends

who’ve walked beside me through this test,

and hold my heart, that at the end

I can still gaze Heavenward,

salute a God I cannot see,

but beyond death’s river-ford

I know He stands and waits for me,

one hand set to dry last tear,

and in the other, ice-cold beer.

Music from the Electric Light Orchestra, with Livin' Thing, performed live at Wembley Stadium on June 24, 2017 (which happens to be Barbara's birthday, and the anniversary of our second marriage. (Click here if the video doesn't come up.)

In watching the video, please do pay attention to the shots of the audience, how the song's appeal really covers all ages. It's enchanting.

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.