The Power of Prayer

Yesterday we got the best news that we could have from the hematologist-oncologist. "Your bone marrow is absolutely normal. No sign of lymphoma." We heaved a huge sigh of relief and I teetered on the edge of my chair.

It's been nearly three months of tests. Results. Tests. More results. And yet more tests. And feeling pretty darned good all the while. I was a puzzle, a dog (!), a zebra. And yesterday, I was a trail----the doc said, "We've looked under every rock. Nothing's there." I couldn't help but think of the Gorham Trail which Al and I hiked Sunday after church. It is a rocky but lovely path with fantastic views all the way.


I'll vote for that metaphor. I'm a trail, a beautiful trail in Acadia National Park. Along the trails there are cairns, rock formations that direct you along the way. The cairns during this 'wild hike' in the medical world were the prayers of many. They were always there, and sometimes there were many, many prayers coming quickly. Those prayers continue to be reliable and sustain us through even the rockiest path.

On the trail, there is also an occasional 'turn-off' that ends up being nothing but a dead end. This brief interruption can even appear to be a lightly-worn footpath. It can fool you for a minute until you spy the next bright blue blaze straight ahead. The 'turn-offs' and 'dead ends' for me were when I let doubts enter my thinking. The occasional "Oh, I know someone who had lymphoma...and he died," would stun me in my tracks but only momentarily. I'd take in a huge cleansing breath and forge ahead, always following those bright blue blazes.



As you hike, it's a requirement that you stop and take in the majestic views --- the blue ocean peeking through the tall pines. And after you climb a bit farther, maybe even with the help of iron rungs drilled into the rock slabs, the whole sky opens up and you can see oceans, islands, and white triangles gliding effortlessly through the water. Those views, the positive results of my medical tests, are always breath-taking and beautiful.



So, now we continue to monitor. The sarcoidosis seems so easy after all of this scary stuff. When we hike, we always carry a trail map, no matter how many times we've done the same hike. Monitoring my health is kind of like that --- the pulmonologist and our GP will continue to hike with us. We'll be sure to look for those cairns, to avoid those 'dead-ends', and always, always, stop to breathe in the glorious views along the way.

Balance and Trust

We are thoroughly enjoying our visit with Mike, Laurelyn, Graham, and Dean! They arrived late last evening. Overnight we had the most powerful thunderstorm ever --- the thunder rumbled for at least a solid hour and the lightning was pretty much non-stop. A few loud cracks hit nearby the house and I was quite sure we'd have a tree down come morning, but we lucked out.


After sleeping in quite late (such a luxury!), we had breakfast and then Graham and I took a jaunt into SW Harbor to do some errands. We stopped at the farmers' market and picked out some dee-licious strawberries and two small wooden lobster boats, one for G and one for Dean. We also strolled to the SWH Library (a real treasure) and G checked out about 10 books, many about dinosaurs.


We had a light lunch when we returned home (must leave room for lobster dinner...must leave room for lobster dinner) and after a bit, Al, Mike and G headed to the lighthouse for some photos and rock-climbing.

While they were gone, Dean and I had fun playing the piano and playing with Al's giant yellow exercise ball. Dean invented a new game where he took my hands and pulled himself up onto the ball. I'd help him move into a seated position where he'd balance himself while I'd bounce him on the ball. Then, with an amazing sense of trust, he'd throw himself back against the ball, knowing that I'd hang onto his feet. With a little coaching from Grandma, "Put your hands down, Dean! Hands down!" he'd reach over his head until all ten fingertips touched the carpet. Then I'd gently ease him down to the floor. He couldn't scramble back onto the top of the ball quickly enough for another go-round.

Toddlers can have an amazing sense of trust. And this toddler also seems to know something about balance. Trust and balance. Balance and trust. A winning combination. We can probably all learn something from the little prince.