Happy New Year!
I believe 2020 will be a great year.
Regular readers of my blog know that I’ve had ALS for twenty-three years. I’ve been on hospice for the last fifteen months, and in that time, I’ve had three close encounters with death. I don’t mean to make light of this, but I think you could say that I have one foot in the grave, and the other is on a banana peel. Knowing this, and reading that I’ve declared that 2020 is going to be a great year, you might be questioning the state of my mental health. I get it, but please hear me out.
I’ll admit that my mental health is not as good as it once was. I recently watched a movie for twenty minutes before realizing I’d seen it before. I don’t know if this is related to the ALS or just getting old. Regardless, I have total recall when it comes to the suffering that Mary and I have endured throughout this protracted trial. If the new year holds more suffering for me, bring it on! I am putting suffering on notice – you will not steal my peace, joy, and hope! If suffering results in my death this year, suffering still loses:
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18).
I’ve made plans and goals for the new year – I’m pressing on!
“Whatever things were gain to me (my health, career, my ability to breathe on my own, eat and speak, and walk…), those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ…” (Philippians 3:7-8).
I feel sorry for those who have all of their hopes invested in the things of this world. I hope and pray that my simple posts might draw them to Christ, and the Unshakable Hope that comes along with making a commitment to follow Him. That would be a great bonus for the time and effort I spend pecking out these posts on my eye-tracking computer. However, I feel called to encourage those going through difficult times. I think these are the people who can relate to my posts. I’m rededicating myself to this calling for 2020.
It’s kind of funny, but, in a sense, I feel that my body, which was perfectly healthy for the first thirty-six years of my life, has since been betraying me. I realize, of course, this isn’t the case, but I allow myself to believe this to motivate me. It’s payback time now – I’m going to punish this body by using every bit of the strength and energy left in it! The common sports metaphor for this is “leaving it all on the field.” I was on the swim team in high school, so in my case, it would be leaving it all in the pool. The Apostle Paul liked to use sports metaphors. In 1st Corinthians chapter 9, he compares the Christian life to running a race. Being very familiar with Greece, he was likely referring to the Olympics. He tells us to make our body “our slave” and “run in such a way that you may win.” Notice that in the following passage, Paul uses the phrase “press on” two times:
“Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12-14).
I hope you’ll join me in “forgetting what lies behind” “press on” to what lies ahead.
Happy New Year!
I feel sorry for adults who don’t have good childhood memories of Christmastime. For good or bad, I think we view our adult Christmases through the eyes of the little girl or boy living inside of us.
I’m thankful that I have good childhood memories of Christmas. Mary and I tried to make good Christmas memories for our daughters. Now that our girls are grown up, we try to make good Christmas memories for our three grandchildren. That little boy inside of me is excited that our three grandchildren will be with us this Christmas. With having ALS for the last twenty-three years, the adult me is thankful for being alive this Christmas.
I used to enjoy putting up the Christmas tree and other decorations with my siblings when we were kids. I especially liked setting up the nativity. We were not very careful decorating the tree; ornaments were broken, and tinsel was thrown randomly in clumps. But, even when we were little, we were always careful setting up the nativity. Before we understood the Bible’s depiction of the first Christmas, we seemed to know that the nativity set represented something special, something sacred. I think about that old nativity set when I read the following passage every Christmas:
“…(Mary) gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:7-11).
Christmas is all about hope. The day Jesus was born, hope was born.
Without grace, there is no hope. Apart from Christ, there is no grace.
“For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” (John 1:17).
Merry Christmas, family and friends!
As I wrote in my post last Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, I have been very ill. To be honest, I was praying for this long journey with ALS to end that night. I was looking forward to getting further along than I did in my near-death experience that I told you about in my last post. It’s funny to me now, but I was even giving God suggestions on how to take me out, “maybe a heart attack or an aneurysm…” My prayers might have been answered if it wasn’t for you people praying that I’d get better.
“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. “In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. “If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.” (John 14:1-3)
I know it’s hard to believe in this enlightened age, but I believe I am going to that place one day, maybe one day soon. However, your prayers are obviously more powerful than mine so I began getting much better after posting on Thanksgiving. By Sunday, I was breathing and feeling much better.
Then, an attack I never saw coming!
Mary has a very detailed routine for getting me ready for bed. This routine takes about thirty minutes if everything goes according to plan. Well, Monday night didn’t exactly go according to plan.
For many years I’ve had a bad case of TMJ. Because of this, I have worn a mouthguard on my top teeth to keep me from clinching when I sleep. The dentists have told me I have the worst case of TMJ they’ve seen. I would crack and crush my mouth guards. They finally made me one out of new stronger material, and they used extra material to make it twice as thick as a standard mouthguard.
Back to my story: Monday night, Mary put my mouthguard in, but it slipped off and began wandering around my mouth and quickly disappeared down my throat! Mary went into panic mode and started sticking fingers in my mouth. I didn’t do it on purpose, but I bit down on Mary’s fingers, and, of course, she screamed like a woman giving birth to a ten-pound baby.
She then put on a big leather glove and tried again, but I clamped down on fingers again. I suppose it’s a reflex reaction. The leather gloves didn’t help, she screamed loudly again. The mouth guard was so far back in my throat that Mary couldn’t even see it. She finally called 911, and eight minutes later, an ambulance pulled in the driveway, followed by a fire truck parked in the street. Before I knew it, six men were surrounding my bed, and two began fishing around in my mouth. I only bit one of them.
They couldn’t see the mouthguard either and began asking Mary if she was sure that it was in there. They were talking about intubating me and transporting me to the hospital. I gave Mary “the look,” and she told the guys that I have a Do Not Resuscitate order. I did not want to be intubated or be transported to the hospital.
We were at an impasse, they couldn’t fish the mouthguard from my throat, and I refused to go to the hospital. As I was lying there with the mouth guard mostly blocking my ability to breathe, I found the whole situation kind of funny. I’ve had ALS for twenty-three years, and I’ve been through numerous painful falls, several cases of horrible pneumonia and flu, and so much else. Now, my mouth guard is going to take me out? I know it’s dark humor, but it is funny in an ironic kind of way.
Obviously, I’m still alive. One of EMTs put my head back up, and when he did, the mouth guard dislodged and popped foreword. I looked at one of the guys, and it’s as if he was able to read my mind. He asked for a tool and slowly opened my mouth and retrieved the blood-covered mouthguard from the back of my mouth. Needless to say, I didn’t wear my mouth guard last night and will never wear it again.
I’m hoping to be able to sleep like Mary’s eighty-seven-year-old mom, who lives with us. She slept through Mary’s blood-curdling screams and, even though her bedroom is at the front of the house, she never heard the sirens or the commotion.
Thank you so much for your prayers!
“Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh.” (Luke 6:21).
Most people don’t think of breathing as a luxury, after all, even the poorest among us can breathe. They wouldn’t be among us otherwise.
Luxury: a condition of abundance or great ease and comfort.
After almost twenty-three years with ALS, which greatly affects my ability to breathe, I believe the above definition of luxury perfectly fits being able to breathe in ease and comfort. But maybe only those who’ve had breathing problems view breathing as a luxury. I hope this simple post will give readers a new appreciation for the ability to just breathe. I think this is important because, if we learn not to take breathing for granted, we’ll begin to view material luxuries for what they really are – just stuff!
Regardless of location, status, race, religion, politics, or anything else that divides people, taking a breath is the first thing we do when entering this world and the last thing we’ll do when exiting this world.
Breathing is a great equalizer.
The ability to breathe was also the first gift that God gave to mankind:
“And the LORD God formed a man’s body from the dust of the ground and breathed into it the breath of life. And the man became a living person.” (Genesis 2:7).
Even though I don’t have the ability to use or the money to spend on the latest gadgets, I am fascinated by technology. I am literally surrounded by incredible machines that add to my quality of life. My wheelchair reclines and is very comfortable. It even has headlights and taillights for cruising around at night. This wheelchair cost as much as a new car. It was donated to the Muscular Dystrophy Association (MDA) after the original owner died from ALS. I am borrowing it from them.
In front of me, attached to the wheelchair with a bar, is my eye-tracking computer. This special computer enables me to communicate, type this post, and do so much more.
To the right of my wheelchair is a little pump mounted on an I.V. pole. This pump is connected to my feeding tube, and for twelve hours a day, its slowly pumping a lab concocted formula into my stomach.
Finally, to my left, is a ventilator that breathes for me through a little breathing mask that’s plugged into my nose.
Now that I think about it, I might be more machine than human.
Because ALS also weakens the muscles needed to breathe, I’ve been relying on a breathing machine when I sleep for the last twenty years. Increasingly over the last few years, I’ve also had to use this ventilator during the daytime. When fighting for every breath, it’s such a relief when Mary puts the breathing mask on me. I am finally able to relax. That’s a luxury.
A few weeks ago, I was watching a television show called “American Pickers.” This is a show about two men who travel America in a van looking for old items to buy and resell for a profit. In the episode I was watching, these two men were in Florida trying to buy old luxury cars from a wealthy man who lived in a mansion near the ocean.
This elderly man owned several once-beautiful and very expensive cars, but because he lived near the ocean, these cars were just rusting away in the salty air. When I was a boy, while playing with my Matchbox Cars, I dreamed about one day owning some of the very cars that this man was letting sit in his garage and rust away. That little boy in me and the adult me were in total agreement; they both had the same thought – WHAT A WASTE!
The “Pickers” made offers to buy some of the cars, but the man refused to let go of his rusting luxuries.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)
In the years following my diagnoses with ALS, I’ve learned to place a higher value on my many blessings. Apart from the rare visits from that little boy inside of me, my definitions of treasures and luxuries are not the same as they once were.
Breathing is a great luxury.
No matter how bad things look to you, there is hope for a better tomorrow if you’re breathing today.
Thanks for dropping by my blog.
Have you ever had an itch that you couldn’t reach to scratch?
This is yet another frustrating aspect of having ALS; being paralyzed by this cruel disease, I cannot scratch my own itches. Over the twenty-two years of my having ALS, I’ve become pretty good at blocking out everyday itching from skin irritations.
The most irritating itches are those caused by insects!
When the weather is nice, I enjoy kicking back in my wheelchair on the patio and listening to audiobooks. This would be much more relaxing if the insects would leave me alone. They seem to know that I am powerless to swat them and take full advantage of this. Several times, mosquitoes have landed right on my forearm and have taken all of the blood they could handle. Their buzzing sounds a lot like laughter as they fly away, leaving me with an itchy bite I can’t scratch.
But worse than the bold mosquitoes are I demonic house flies. On more than a few occasions, these disgusting flies have conducted coordinated attacks on me. They’d fly into my nostrils and ears and land on my lips. It’s as if Beelzebub, the ancient pagan “lord of flies,” sent them to torment me. I’m only half joking. Sometimes I really do wonder what goes on “behind the scenes.”
Two weeks ago, I had a horrible itch on my left side that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t overcome the urge to have it scratched. It was a burning itch as if I had been scalded by hot liquid. Mary lifted my shirt to investigate and discovered that I had bright red welts on the side of my waist. It looked like I really had been scalded by hot liquid. These red itchy welts quickly spread to my back.
It turned out to be shingles. The hospice doctor got me started right away on antibiotics and a cream for the welts. It was thankfully a minor case, there was not much pain, just ten days of itching.
Another kind of itching:
Just before he was beheaded under the Roman Emperor Nero, the last recorded words of the Apostle Paul were a warning about itching. Spending years chained in dungeons, with fleas, lice, and likely irritable skin conditions, I’m sure that Paul knew a lot about itching of the body. But he wouldn’t waste his last words on earth recommending essential oils for skin conditions (I get those recommendations from my daughter, Leah).
Paul issued a warning about the worst of all itches – spiritual itches:
“…the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith…” “The time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.” (2 Timothy 4:6-7 & 3-4).
At the age of twenty-three, I made a commitment to follow Christ. I wasn’t attending church at this time. In truth, I was still cynical about the whole“organized religion” thing. I don’t recommend this, but for the first three or four months, I didn’t attend church. However, I read the Bible every day. Some days I’d read the Bible for several hours. Before the first time I attended church, I made a commitment to God that if any preacher contradicted what I had been reading in the Bible, I’d stick with what the Bible taught and never attend that church again.
It’s been thirty-six years since I made that commitment and Mary and I have been members of two churches. Thankfully, we’ve never had any serious disagreements with what’s been preached by the pastors. The same can’t be said about some of the messages I’ve heard on television, the radio, and YouTube.
I know that there have been false teachers for all of the two thousand years of Christianity, but it’s never been as bad as it is now.“The time” that Paul warned us about just before being executed is here; we’re living in times of great deception.
Please read the Bible and walk away from anyone who contradicts it. It’s a matter of life and death –eternal life and death!
“You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you.”― C.S. Lewis
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