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Thursday, February 11, 2021

Up, Up And Away

And so the metastases are in both legs, and my walk is now a shuffle...sideways, when I can, because it hurts less that way.

Not walking is not an option; we have a lot of dogs, and Barb works for a living. But, thank God (or, for the dyslexic, thank Dog), the guys seem to understand, and adapt their desire to run to my capabilities.

Nights are a rotisserie...lay on one side until the pain's beyond endurance, turn ninety degrees until I can't breathe, turn again to face the pain...you get it. Or, rather, I hope you don't get it. No-one should feel this, or see it.

The other night, particularly bad, and I felt for a moment or ten that I was falling...like the feeling you get when you're dozing off...

Except that I was falling up, and consciousness was becoming more, and not less, clear.

Is this what death is like? Have you heard, have you felt it, have you been told?

There was nothing of 'meeting Jesus in the air'; it wasn't a rapturous experience, but it wasn't a bad one either.

There was a sense of expectancy, but to be more specific than that would not be honest, so I'll leave it there.


Is death like falling upward,

piercing through the clouds above,

more like rocket than like bird,

rising on a flame of love?

Is death a leap that o'ertops

‘till one hits Heaven’s Gates,

the hang-time jump that never stops

and jumper graduates

from this earth, this mortal coil

unto transcendent plane

where’s ended fruitless strife and toil,

and all that doth remain

are the blessings we were given,

oft unseen while we were livin’?


Music from The Fifth Dimension, with Up, Up and Away (My Beautiful Balloon).


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.










36 comments:

  1. I felt something similar a very long time ago when someone almost strangled me. As I started to black out, I remember wondering if this is what it felt like to die, and being surprised by how peaceful it felt.

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    1. Oh, Grams, what a horrible thing to go through...my heart aches. I'm so glad you made it through; you mean so much to me!!!!!!!!

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  2. "...the blessings we were given, oft unseen while we were livin’" - this gave me pause. I wonder how many things we are not even aware of as blessings right now until we start to "fall up" as you put it? Thank you for sharing this Andrew despite your pain. Praying for you and Barb.

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    1. Wemi, thank you so much for this...and please forgive my not showing up at your FMF post this week. I'm hurting.

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  3. I can't begin to imagine what you are going through - the pain and the emotions. Stay strong!

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    1. Corinne, thank you...one of my favourite motivational 'slogans' is the Maori 'Ake ake kia kaha', which is usually translated as 'Forever strong'.

      Actually, the correct translation is 'for ever, and be strong', which makes a subtle...and I think vital...differentiation between strength and endurance.

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  4. Amen Andrew. Your posts really resonate with me, I always pause and reflect on your words. Continued prayers for you and Barb.
    Visiting today from FMF#9

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    1. Paula, I am so very honoured that there is a resonance for you. Thank you so much for your prayers!

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  5. Yes, and 'underneath are the ever lasting arms' xx

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    1. Fiona, yes...those Everlasting Arms! And please forgive my not making it to your FMF post this week!

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  6. Andrew, I cannot speak to what death is like as I have never experienced it. But one thing I know, "to be absent from the body is present with the Lord." I take comfort in those words, knowing ti will be as in the blink of an eye. Praying for you to have relief today, for today to be a little bit easier, and for our God to continue to be with you and Barb!

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    1. Joanne, I love that quotation...to be absent from the body is present with the Lord. It's so 'right', because as the body fails...and mine is failing badly...I feel closer to a God whom I could never imagined.

      Please forgive my failure to comment on your FMF post this week. I just didn't make it that far.

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  7. I'm so sorry, Andrew. May the Holy Spirit draw near to comfort you.

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    1. Anita, He's here...I'm surrounded, in these awful (only word for it) days by a Love I never imagined.

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  8. Life sucks at times! The fact your still writing and inspiring is amazing. You are such a man of God and I know you will meet him, up in the air or any other way. He has you. My aunt was also given a rather grim prognosis in the week with her cancer battle. Like you she is embracing and trusting Jesus and witnessing. God bless Andrew

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    1. Loretta, your aunt...and you...are in my prayers.

      Yes, it sucks at times, but given the choice, I would choose this road again. I have felt a love I have never known before.

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  9. and, no thoughts of giving in? giving up? A....?

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    1. Susan, no thoughts of giving up, or giving in. Not now, not ever.

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  10. I've heard that death can be described both ways... as a falling into, or moving up into, It will be your own. Visiting from FMF25

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    1. Annette, that makes sense...falling into, or falling up.

      Please pardon me, that I did not get to your post in the last couple of weeks.

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  11. I used to be a poet
    but as I grew up I lost the joy
    As most symbolic literature
    does now substantially annoy.
    And yet, today, your symbols
    and your faithful poetic rhyme
    was really quite enjoyable.
    I'd even say sublime.

    Amie, FMF #34

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    1. Amie, this poem you left is lovely, and I am so grateful. You've lifted my heart today.

      For what it's worth, I never think myself a poet...I started writing sonnets as a gimmick as comments on blog posts, to stand out. Pride rules, eh?

      And yet...there are those who think this is the culmination of a life's work.

      Weird.

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  12. What food for thought you pen down Andrew. I have never died so I have no words to describe it but I am trusting it will not be painful and looking forward to the next adventure with the Lord.

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    1. Wise Hearted...I think that yes, death is an adventure. I hope it is not painful, but like so many things (childbirth is one, though being a dude I hesitate to mention it) the pain is worth the reward.

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  13. Thank you for sharing with us, Andrew. I cannot relate to all you write, but having been diagnosed with cancer last January, I empathize. I've done the chemo, radiation, surgery, meds, and the rotisserie sleeping method.

    Keep writing, keep praying, keep sharing. May God give you comfort, strength, and peace; whether physical, spiritual, or both.

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    1. Heather, I am so sorry for your diagnosis. Please you know that you are in our prayers, and we thank you so much for your kind words.

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  14. Some good news on this end. I got an article published in the paper today. Made me happy. As far as your side-shuffle, sorry it's gotten worse for you. The "almost leaving," makes me think of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," when the Hawiian gentleman sang it. Have you heard that rendition? It makes me smile inside. Andrew, this long goodbye will end someday, when it's time to step into the next adventure. And that's not so bad. But for now, I wish it were easier and less painful. The Lord be with you.

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    1. My dear Norma, hooray for that article! You have surely more than earned that success.

      I do know the Hawaiian version of 'Over The Rainbow'; it gives me comfort.

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  15. Sending love an support, Andrew and Barb. And in case you ever wonder, I have not forgotten the poem you wrote re: my Layla post. I plan to share it -- it will live on. <3

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    1. Paula, thank you...and I am so glad that the Layla post will go on, in your hands. Writing it took so much of my heart!

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  16. This line touched me: Is death like falling upward... What a beautiful way to describe going home. I'm so sorry you are enduring such pain. I pray that you will find sweet relief.

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    1. Ashley, thank you for your kind words and wishes. Falling upward is scary, and it means falling up through the pain...but there's hope on teh other side.

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  17. Praying for you Andrew. I’ve missed your comments and came here to see that you have indeed taken a turn. This idea of falling up is worth pondering. I love the way you see things and share your view with us.
    Thank you! Praying for Barb as well

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    1. Debi, thank you so much for being here, and I'm sorry to have fallen away...it was not my choice. Things are just so bad.

      I'm so grateful for your love, and your prayers.

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  18. Andrew, first, I'm so sorry the pain has become so severe. You and Barb continue to be in my prayers. This poem was beautiful, friend. I had never thought of death as falling upward. I like that image. And also, I read another person's words recently about how much I write about that, in this present place, I misunderstand, but that I suspect God will make all things clear when I'm face-to-face with Him one day. A little like how, right now, I don't see certain things as blessings, but one day, when I can see things fully, I will see as blessings. Sending gentle hugs, my friend.

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    1. Jeanne, first and foremost, thank you for the hugs. They're needed.

      God will indeed make all clear, my friend, and your pen is in His hands.

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