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IMG_0871Fear is the big problem for most of us. It’s the reason we don’t reach out, it’s the reason we live life carefully and it’s the reason we have a lack of compassion in this world.
I have a theory and I have no scientific data to back it up. Watch, if you aren’t too scared.

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I don’t get that nervous about many things. After running for office, and walking into a room full of people waiting to chew on you, get’s you prepared for great difficulty.  But yesterday, I was so nervous being at OHSU in search of treatment for my cancer. As Kathy and I waited in this little room, my stomach was in a knot, my head hurt and I just wanted to jump out the window and pretend this wasn’t happening. Even when I’m nervous I can usually talk myself through it. When a doctor comes in the room I can chat and be nice and usually that washes away the fear. But yesterday, I couldn’t get past it. Cancer has this way of darkening what little light you find at the end of a tunnel. I wasn’t feeling like “Oh why me?” I haven’t gone there and hope not to. I think that is a typical, normal response and I just don’t want to open that door. But as I was sitting there I had to ask God, “How did we get here?” As the doctor and his assistant started talking with Kathy and me, the darkness began to subside. This doctor was not afraid of my questions. This doctor had real answers and had obviously studied my file. This doctor was not out to sell his services and admitted the other options I was looking at have value. As the meeting went on, Kathy and I started to smile. We had stumbled onto a new cutting edge therapy that sounds hopeful and hope is what we’ve been lacking. Don’t get me wrong I still have hope in God that has not subsided. I’m talking about hope that says; “Okay, I think we can do that.” There are no good options when you are fighting cancer. I know some of you think the natural approach is a good option. Some will look at this diet or that but it doesn’t really sound that great when you actually have cancer in your body eating at you. Lots of treatments sound Okay when it’s not you, when it’s someone else’s body and when you don’t personally have to live with what can mean a less than marginal quality of life. So, we are “this” close to saying “this is it.” That’s a hard step to make. In some ways you almost don’t want to tell anyone what you’re going to do because everyone is an expert and has an opinion. We will continue to pray, research and work to make up our minds but I feel like we’re on the right path, finally.

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Sitting on the hill, high above the City of Portland, Mount Hood and Mount St Helens covered in a blanket of white snow. The sky is hazy but the air is warm and I’m sitting in a waiting room, waiting. How did I get here? Across from me is a man, talking “in his loud voice” on the phone. A little to the left of me is a guy hooked up to Chemotherapy. My wife is reading a magazine and I’m just doing what I do when I get nervous and want to run, I write. How did I get here? People walking into the waiting room from the doctor’s office don’t look happy. Maybe it’s the reflection of my attitude projected onto them. Maybe I’m imagining it. How did I get here? I’m about to make a decision about whether to radiate my body or cut it up. I’m doing my homework and trying to find the right options but after awhile you realize there is no right answer, it’s all going to do damage to my body. How did I get here? Every time we visit another doctor the feeling is the same. What will this doctor tell me that will make me feel like this really is a disease, it’s dangerous and I need to kill it. How did I get here? A guy in a blue suit just called another guy to the backroom. I’m guessing he’s going to get radiated. Another man walked up who lost his voice box and then there is a guy trying to breath and having difficulty. In the midst of all of this I see my reflection off the window and find the image blurry as if its’ not really me. Next to me, Kathy and to my left, with His hand resting on my shoulder is God. I’m not sure how I got here but I know it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be, right now. Does it feel right? No. But I stopped basing my life on feelings a long time ago.

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IMG_0814I used to think God was sitting in Heaven watching my every move waiting for me to screw up. Now I see Him as a Father who greets me each morning with His tender hand on my shoulder as He asks me if I’m ready for my day. I used to think being a Follower of Christ meant putting on the right image, saving people and trying to be good. Now all three definitions actually make me sick to my stomach. I used to practice religion and thought it was actually the goal. Now, that whole idea makes me laugh and cry at the same time. God wants a relationship with us not a religion. I’m pretty sure that’s the whole reason Jesus came to earth but most of us fail to live that way. I used to think Serving God meant going to a building on Sunday, putting money in a plate (as if God needs my money) and modifying my behavior. Now I know that serving God is about serving others, taking risk and transforming my life not my behavior. I used to be afraid of God. I feared He would catch me doing something wrong and I would be disqualified from his presence. Now I understand Christ took care of all that and God is actually on my side, all the time, especially when I don’t measure up to those around me. I used to think. Now I simply live or should I say live simply.

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IMG_0858I wish I could remember, when the world feels like it’s going to swallow me that it won’t. I wish I could remember, when everything feels dark that the light is just around the corner. I wish I could remember that God’s in charge and that my true power is in submitting my will to Him not to systems, others or a religion. I wish I could remember that people say stupid things and that I am one of those people. I wish I could remember when the sun goes down on me that in 12 hours it will again rise. IMG_0850I wish I could remember that crying actually will help and that I don’t need to hold back the tears. As I sit here watching the sun reflect off the ocean, the waves crashing, and a new day beginning I remember that I can only see a fraction of what’s really going on around me. God, please don’t let me forget.

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