God is bigger than cancer! (miracle series)

Sometimes God brings someone close to your heart just before they go through something. It was that way with my Chinese son in law’s big sister. I met her when she came for a visit a few months before I left China. A saint with a sense of humour, I instantly liked and grew fond of her, as did we all. Just a few weeks after her return to the US we got the news she had been diagnosed with bone cancer. We were all devistated.

A new Christian, she asked for prayer before going for her first course of treatment. We all prayed up a storm, it seemed so wrong, someone who had always been there for others, a single mum with a ten year old son, one of the kindest people one could ever meet. Why her?

Then wonderful news came, after a few preliminary tests the doctors couldn’t explain it. There was no sign whatsoever of bone cancer. It was just gone!

The three most beautiful women.

I met three very beautiful women over the past three months, one since passed away from cancer, one has just recovered from cancer, and one’s son recently committed suicide. No it had nothing to do with make up or “taking care of themselves”, though each was tastefully dressed etc. This was something more. Each had struggled with something beyond their capability to bare, as if life had operated and created a void inside emptying out the self, the pride, till an inner beauty had kindled that took my breath away. All three are in their 60’s and one of them had never been beautiful even in youth, but now she glows.

Maybe I don’t see as others do. I must admit I often find the commercially vaunted beauty, tacky, superficial, even slimy. My daughter (who’d secretly like me to find a “special someone”) tends to point out guys to try to “find out my type”. I frequently answer “ugh no!” I try to explain there has to be something to the eyes that shines out. What ever it is these ladies have it, an inner beauty so strong it transforms their faces like angels.

(The photo is from bing by the way (I don’t generally post friends or family on my blog)).

When Words Aren’t Enough.

flash fiction from 2014

Song Bird Songs

Drowning in words she headed toward the cafeteria.
“Kate, I heard what happened, I…” Kate waved the comment away. She couldn’t handle any more. Changing course she stormed through the fire exit.

Fingers fumbling she lit a cigarette glaring defiantly at the office windows. They meant well but…
A chill wind stirred the leaves amid the vacant cars, a comforting emptiness surrounded her. Trapped in her brain words kept pounding, trying to get out, a surging tide they engulfed her entwined together by the statement “It’s malignant.”

“It’s not fair…” she muttered to the leaves. The tiny words, finding a crack, forced outward like water breaching a dam.
“It’s not fair! I don’t want to die!” she yelled, the wind scattering words like leaves about the plot. She glimpsed anxious faces pressed at the windows. Sinking to her knees she covered her face as shameful, angry tears enveloped her.

She…

View original post 149 more words

Watch it may save a loved one’s life!

A must watch! (If you haven’t already). Don’t be put off by the slightly amateur presentation at the beginning wait till the facts kick in! I’ve found this viewpoint borne out with friends who chose chemo/radiation or natural therapy. Guess who’s still around?

Grains of Sand. (flash fiction)

Slamming on the brakes Dee pulled into the curb. Scrambling down the rocky incline she breathed hard, her starved lungs seizing ravenously on the fresh salty air. Wrestling off her stilettoes toes wriggled luxuriously in soft cool sand. Before her stood the ocean, as vast and all-encompassing as it had ever been. Eyes long encased by concrete décor feasted on space, on blue and emerald… At last here she was alone with the ocean. It hadn’t changed.

Sitting on a rock she thrilled to the cold shock of the waves around her ankles, giggling like a school girl. She cared nothing for the salt spray staining her Dior skirt – she was free! It was all behind her now, the career, the smashed relationship, even the arrogant brats she’d mothered for so long, even them for this moment. Perhaps later she’d bring them here, perhaps they’d understand … perhaps… They’d never been hers, not really, no more than Phil had been hers, she’d been merely one in a progression of stepmothers, to be used and discarded. Gazing down at the diamond studied wedding band on her finger she wrenched it off watching with grim satisfaction as it plummeted beneath the tide.

She could have sold it reason argued. No. She wanted nothing from him, nothing. It was over. She was free! Removing the scarlet headscarf she tossed her remaining curls in the brisk ocean air. They were thin now; the radiation had decimated her beauty but not her spirit. Whatever time she had left she’d spend it here beside the ocean reliving her childhood dreams. A single tear escaped. No she would not weep, not any more. She’d instead relish every moment. She’d hire a companion, there was money of her own enough for that … perhaps an old friend… they’d walk the beach together and dream and reminisce till the last grains of sand trickled from the glass…

A friend “moves on”.

The pain didn’t make her bitter; instead it seemed to kindle a fire within, an almost tangible glow. She’d always been kind and concerned. I recall her compassion when I was once far from home in a desperate situation, she didn’t just talk she did, she was always like that.

Her life, though often touched with joy, had not been easy, she’d had to fight many battles and the last (with cancer) took away her strength. Yet as power ebbed away something more pure filled the vacuum.

I can understand why God called her home, something so beautiful belongs in Heaven, though she’ll be sorely missed here.

The Greatest Adventure! ( (Re blog from May 2014)

My heart is touched with sadness today. An old and precious friend has concluded his battle with cancer. As a fellow believer I rejoice is his present freedom from suffering, but feel a vacuum left by his passing, such men are rare.

He died as he lived with a peaceful heart surrounded by his family and mourned by friends without number the world over to whom he showed kindness, patience and a helping hand, (me included). Such a man needs no memorial stone to be remembered. I dedicate this next post to him through tears, but in joy that his free spirit is no longer confined to his bed.

  The Greatest Adventure! (A believer’s perspective)

Once all was clean and unsullied, fresh and new; mankind surveyed his domain. He walked childlike through creation, peeping through trailing vines, smelling the fragrance of the flowers and watching startled as birds took to the sky. Imagine the discoveries – of tastes, of textures, of rushing waterfalls and placid turquoise lakes, the mystery of the sunset, the glory of its rise…

Now it is jaded, much of the joy of discovery has ceased.

The world and creation are now mapped and cataloged, pictures flash on screen at the touch of a computer key, yet the heart of man still yearns for exploration, sometimes seeking it in perversity and corruption, but we have yet to begin to delve into the infinity of creation. Exploring one plain, the carnal, seeing from one viewpoint only, we’ve missed the infinite complexity of the universe. True science knows we see but the tip of the iceberg.

Death is a ticket to another dimension from which the view is very different, a startling realization of the infinite. At death one is freed from the restriction of the physical mindset so prevalent in this modern world. Casting off its former shackles, the spirit, that curious, exploring, creative element of man’s inner being, is finally free to explore infinite horizons of time and space. Free to come to God, at last casting off all confines of flesh, of time, of mortality.

No need to wait till we die, the door stands open, but to enter we must cast aside the glasses of conformity, surrender to the free wind of God’s spirit and let it awaken our senses in full, opening as a new bride to her lover, in trust, in expectancy of fulfillment. Then we’ll begin to comprehend the vastness of creation. Then we’d no longer fear death. The journey perhaps, but we would know the door, the portal to eternity.

“All men die, but only some truly live!” (Braveheart)

I’m glad my friend was one of them.

(Strange to re blog this now as I just heard another old friend has been hospitalized. This remarkable lady is also in the last stage of cancer. It brought forth an incredible sweetness in her and I know she is ready for the trip. It would be selfish of me to mourn yet I do feel sad that such precious souls cease to be among us.)

Spring Comes! (Flash fiction)

Crocuses flaunted bright petaled heads in the early breeze, in the hospital garden and daffodils graced the glass vase adorning her sterile environment. Jane loved spring, but this year she couldn’t enjoy these divine bursts of colour. Her world had faded to charcoal, dust and ashes.

Rabid cells had vandalised her garden, the radiation only added to the havoc. She was dying. They didn’t tell her that, but she knew. Only her eyes were free to walk among the flowers. Her aging body no longer obeyed her commands. Death waited brooding in the shadows. It had already laid claim to Frank, her husband of forty years and long ago it had claimed a tiny life, almost claimed hers. She’d escaped that time, escaped but with a barren womb and tortured mind. Frank had so wonted a son, he’d striven hard to hide his disappointment, but she knew, always felt guilty. He would have made such a good father, had been a good father to so many boys, but never his own.

Frank had been a teacher as had she. They’d met long ago when she’d transferred into a new school and he’d taken her under his wing. Now he was gone, it was all gone… all but the daffodils and the cards surrounding them, a kind gesture from old colleges that remembered. Where were they all now she wondered, all the little faces she’d taught, laboured over. They’d flapped those little wings and flown off to new horizons leaving her alone, alone in a hospital bed…

Pain surged through her body; the meds. were wearing off again. Not to worry the nurse would be here soon. A pleasant girl, but busy, always too busy to sit and talk, to hold her hand as Frank would have done…

The pain killers kicked in bringing with them a feeling of overwhelming drowsiness and confusion. Was there was a boy sitting by her bed? She glimpsed him before falling asleep. Who could he be? Which of her pupils would care enough to come all this way? When she awoke he was still there. He reached to take her hand saying nothing. It was so comforting to lay there touching another human being, oh the comfort of that hand. God bless that boy.

“Who are you?” she whispered, surprised that it took so much strength to mouth the words. He held a finger to his lips, silencing her efforts.

“Don’t talk. It’s OK. I’m here for you. I won’t go away.” And he didn’t. As early morning turned to shades of purple and green, as her exhausted body found refuge in troubled dreams, he was always there, holding her hand, stroking her hair in his silent vigil.

Just before dawn when shadows spring back before the rising sun she summoned the strength to ask one more time.

“Who … are … you?”

He smiled, “you don’t know my name, but dad sent me.” Then she knew. Taking his hand she rose from her bed and stepped into springtime.

Not the End Till it’s Over

Everything seemed at an end. Alice watched as the drip flowing into her arm counted the seconds. Little use they were to her. Life was ending ebbing away as the drops flowed. She could count in hours or in days it made little difference.
Her daughter’s worried face appeared around the door, a brave smile in residence. Grasping Alice’s free hand she pulled the chair close to the bed.
“I came as fast as I could mum…” The words tumbled on the air loosing their meaning. Alice smiled keeping her composure till the last.
“I know you did honey…” Her eyes were heavy, so very heavy; she began to drift back to the days when she held her in her arms a tiny pink bundle of new life. Now the hourglass had turned, their roles reversed. Another figure stepped from the shadows. Her smile deepened – John.
“Mum?” the voice anxious.
“I was dreaming of your father …so long ago now… I’m so tired…” Alice felt tears drop on her fingers. There was only Annie left now all the rest were gone and soon she, herself, would be gone too; poor Annie. She was too tired to think about it now. John was calling. How pleasant to just drift away in dreams… she was too tired to fight.

*

She awoke to the morning sun forming glittering patterns on the bed. Annie was asleep slouched in the chair. She felt light; the heavy drowsy feeling had left her. Maybe the drip had worked after all?
A young doctor entered surprised to see her awake and sitting up. Annie stirred and murmured something. Checking her pulse and breathing the doctor smiled.
“I don’t quite understand it but something amazing has happened.
“You mean I’m gonna make it?”
“Indeed you are!” His eyes glowed in pleasure.
It was not till later she recalled the dream. John talked with her. He wanted her to come now but she had begged for time, enough time to make sure Annie was OK. That time had been given her, she would not waste a second of it.

(This was inspired by a true story. A mother of three young children dying of cancer begged God for another 10 years to raise her kids. The cancer went into remission. Ten years later it returned, her widowed husband told me the story. I understood how he and his teenaged kids had such a peace about her death.)

When Words Aren’t Enough.

Drowning in words she headed toward the cafeteria.
“Kate, I heard what happened, I…” Kate waved the comment away. She couldn’t handle any more. Changing course she stormed through the fire exit.

Fingers fumbling she lit a cigarette glaring defiantly at the office windows. They meant well but…
A chill wind stirred the leaves amid the vacant cars, a comforting emptiness surrounded her. Trapped in her brain words kept pounding, trying to get out, a surging tide they engulfed her entwined together by the statement “It’s malignant.”

“It’s not fair…” she muttered to the leaves. The tiny words, finding a crack, forced outward like water breaching a dam.
“It’s not fair! I don’t want to die!” she yelled, the wind scattering words like leaves about the plot. She glimpsed anxious faces pressed at the windows. Sinking to her knees she covered her face as shameful, angry tears enveloped her.

She felt someone beside her, a warm arm slid across her shoulders. She looked up into the boss’ eyes.
“It’s not fair…” she muttered pleadingly.
Eyes looked back in compassion as he drew her into his arms slowly raising her to her feet.
“No it’s not.” He responded. He held her silently as she stained his shirt with tears. Somehow it helped that fatherly contact, the understanding smile.
“It’s cold out here and neither of us are dressed for it, let’s go in my office where it’s warm and you can tell me about it.”
“No, it’s OK now. I just needed to let it out… no one understood what I needed…You must think me an ass.”
“No, we all need a shoulder to cry on from time to time – me too.” He gave that schoolboy grin so odd in a man of his years gently leading her inside.