Thursday 29 December 2016

Safety

I'll preface by apologizing to any C.S. Lewis haters out there.  The last post I shared was based off a Lewis quote, and this post will be its twin.  Although, the quote is from a much different type of book...

One of the great loves of my life are the Chronicles of Narnia.  C.S. Lewis, in his children's books as well as his other works, uses allegories and metaphors in a way that penetrates deep into my brain and my heart.  Since growing up (in stature at least) the Chronicles have taken on an even greater meaning to me.  As Lewis put it in the dedication of one of his books,

"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again."

I have been wrestling a lot, due to Doug's recent cancer diagnosis, with the concept of bad things happening to good people.  I think that we can all agree that Doug falls into the category of a good (probably even great) person.  Over the last month, I've heard untold stories from people who admire, respect, and care for Doug.  

As a father-in-law, Doug is top-notch.  Wise, kind, caring, and humorous are just a few of the many adjectives that I could use to describe him.  The question entered into my brain, "How could God let this happen to such a wonderful guy?".

It is in this struggle, I found myself thinking about a particular chapter from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  This passage, and one phrase in particular has always resonated with me.  I'll set up the scene.  Mr. Beaver and Mrs. Beaver (a couple of talking beavers) are explaining to a group of English children that they are to meet Aslan (the allegorical figure representing Jesus).

"Is—is he a man?" asked Lucy.

"Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. 
"Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion."

"Ooh!" said Susan, "I'd thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."

"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver, "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."

"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

I've bolded the phrase that I mentioned above.  This phrase has helped me in my struggle.


No one ever said that being a follower of Jesus would be easy, struggle-free, or safe.  Just look at Job or the disciples and early Christians.  They would all likely tell you the opposite.  Even today, many believers are persecuted for their beliefs.  If you were to walk into an average Canadian church, 99% of the parishioners would be struggling with something.  Following Jesus is not a promise of riches, of an easy life, or of safety. 

But, this word safe is balanced by another beautiful word - good.

God is good.  And, God loves Doug.  God loves Doug more than all of us love Doug combined.  It's not even close.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s will. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
                             Matthew 10:29-31

The most comforting thing about this situation, and this diagnosis, is that Doug is in the hands of Jesus.  And that, is a good place to be.

And guess what's makes it even better;

Loretta is in the hands of Jesus...

Tara, Leanne, and Erin are in the hands of Jesus...

[Insert your name here] is in the hands of Jesus...

As Leanne so wonderfully put it several days ago, "Emmanuel - God with us!"

In my last post, I talked about joy.  The point of this post is peace.

It's been echoed a lot within the family.  We feel at peace.  We are trusting in God.  This is not an easy or safe situation, but His goodness will prevail.

I am going to close with a quote from one of the later Chronicles of Narnia.  And as a homage to C.S. Lewis, I'm going to use it as an allegory/metaphor of the deepest, most desperate prayer of my heart.

"Begone, Monster, and take your lawful prey to your own place: in the name of Aslan and Aslan's great Father, the Emperor-Over-the-Sea."

The hideous creature vanished...

                                Peter: High King over all Kings of Narnia

           - Matthew

Monday 26 December 2016

Christmas 2016

Festival of Lights at the zoo on Christmas Eve eve
Kase and Grandpa on Christmas Day
We have been blessed by many of your Advent wishes as you have shared your favorites with us.  Here are a few that have spoken powerfully to me:
  • We have prayed daily that God will hold us closely each day and night so we all loved the images of Christ’s love and care spoken by Bishop Lancelot Andrewes of Chichester and shared with us by Tim Leugs from Michigan:

I have always loved that passage from Genesis 15. 
Especially in the Advent season, it's good to have the reminder that 
God is "Within me, to strengthen me; Without me, to keep me; 
Above me, to protect me; Beneath me, to uphold me; Before me, to direct me; Behind me, to keep me from straying; Round about me, to defend me" (Lancelot Andrewes, 1555-1626). 

  • Vicki Den Ouden – an old favourite Advent song.  The last 3 lines have been especially meaningful for me this Advent season.

We'll call him Jesus, the name the angels whispered 

We'll call him Jesus, sent from heaven to be our King
We'll call him Jesus, the sweetest name in all the earth
We'll call him Jesus, he'll save us from our sins.
But when your heart is full of joy, you'll call him Wonderful 
And when you've almost lost your way, you'll call him Counselor 
And in the midst of your confusion, whisper Prince of Peace
And when you're all alone, he'll be Emmanuel. 

God with us, indeed!  Our family prays that you will experience God’s intimate touch in the coming year!  

- Doug

Wednesday 21 December 2016

Wrestling with God

"I was thinking last night ..."

Those are often the most dreaded words my colleagues hear from me - I would usually have some sort of new idea or task to tackle.  They would also have the sense that they would be highly involved in the completion of said task.  A number of weeks ago, this blog was introduced to my family with "I was thinking that a blog would be a good idea". 

As you may have noticed, the initial work has been done by the three daughters and a number of guest bloggers. I have yet to contribute anything other than the idea. This is where I jump in and will share some of my thoughts and things I have learned about God, family and friends over the last few weeks.

"Slay the beast" has been the prayer rallying cry from the start.  It continues to fit all too well!  The cancer is indeed a nasty beast and it will take a miracle to beat it back.  But we know where to find miracles and are confident that God is preparing one.  Our family is experiencing a deep sense of peace, for which we are most thankful.  

Despite this deep sense of peace, God and I have had a few high stakes matches, inspired by Psalm 42.  I am touched by the honest expression of tears and a groaning soul.  Satan torments "Where is your God?".  God has challenged me to be thirstier for Him and His love and I am working hard to be in training around this, with lots of support from family, friends and helpful writers.  Psalm 42 so accurately captures my personal tension in prayer  a deep prayer that God’s will be done but still a powerful prayer for a healing miracle.  I am still wrestling with this … but Loretta assures me that that is okay!  I trust her.

Longing for God
Like a deer that yearns
for running streams,
so my soul is yearning 
for you, my God

My soul is thirsting for God,
the God of my life;
when can I enter and see
 the face of God?

My tears have become my bread,
by night, by day,
as I hear it said all day long:
"Where is your God?"

These things will I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I would lead the rejoicing crowd
into the house of God,
amid cries of gladness and thanksgiving,
the throngs wild with joy.

Why are you cast down, my soul,
why groan within me?
Hope in God; I will still praise the Lord,
my savior and my God.

- Psalm 42: 1-5, A New Translation

Through all of this, our family has been busy preparing for Christmas. This includes putting up decorations, but more importantly, continuously recommitting to advent. Thanks to so many of you who wished us a blessed advent.  I do admit that this has been a real challenge for me but Loretta has a beautiful way of challenging me to reframe this message into the story of hope, into which we are living so powerfully and profoundly. We are people of hope. 

As an update concerning treatment:
  • We feel very blessed in that Dr. Easaw, our primary doctor, who will walk this journey with us, is a totally delightful man, full of life, passion and hope.  What a gift! 
  • I was fitted for a radiation shield this morning and hope to begin radiation early in January.  
My radiation shield. Thinking about using it as next year's Halloween costume. 
  • I also spent about 30 minutes with scans today and was comforted by repeating a prayer from a little book called The Way of the Pilgrim, which suggests that we pray thousands of times daily "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me." I lost track after 100.  It was affirming that my prayerful cadence matched the whirs of the machines. I also pray that this prayer moves from my lips to my heart.
  • I will be starting an oral form of chemotherapy at the same times as my radiation and have been assured multiple times that the chemo will not cause any hair loss...what a relief. 
    No more swelling!
  • We were planning on adding this as a prayer request but the prayer has been answered already! I will be part of a study at the Cross Cancer Institute where I will be undergoing four weeks of radiation instead of six. The results from the study so far show that the four week duration is at least as effective or better than the six week duration and there are no different side effects. 

As my daughters have done in previous posts, thank you so much for your support. Your notes, cards, and emails have been a daily expression of God’s love and hope.  We remain convinced that so many of the early miracles related to surgery and recovery have been answered prayers. Pray on! 
The scar is healing quite well! 
For those of you wondering if there is anything in particular that we would like you to pray for at this time, please pray for: 
  • Loretta, as she navigates the busiest time of her year – tax season – with the intensity of the treatment schedule.  Morning prayers would be a real gift!
  • Me, as I have just started a journey through Space for God: The Study and Practice of Prayer and Spirituality by Don Postema.  My hope is that it will touch my heart deeply.  
Know that your prayers are like morning dew, both life-giving and refreshing! 

Finally, I would like to share with you a piece of beautiful scripture, a great anecdote, and the words of a powerful prayer, sent by Cari Gonzalez from Langley Christian School.  

"The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing."
 - Zephaniah 3:17


----------------------------------------


From the moment God made that amazing covenant with Abraham - where He walked through twice and pledged to hold up both ends of the bargain - He loved you. 

In this Christmas season may Jesus truly be your Wonderful Counsellor, your Mighty God, your Everlasting Father and your Prince of Peace.

----------------------------------------

Father in Heaven,

We thank you and praise you for who you are. Your love is perfect and never ends. 

Father, we lift up to you Doug in this moment. Lord, you know every inch of his body - inside and out - and right now we just pray, that in Jesus mighty name that you will heal Doug. That the tumour will not just shrink but will disappear. That you will restore Doug and heal
his body. 

Father - we cast his cares on to you and lay them at your altar. Your altar, a place of exchange, where we can instead take up your burden which is light.

God, bless Doug with not only healing but peace, and courage, and strength and JOY in this time. May he feel Your presence more so than he ever has. May your rest just take over his body. 

Thank you, Lord for the blessing he has been to many. 

We offer this up to you, in Jesus name,
Amen.

   - Doug "Bad Ass" Monsma






Tuesday 13 December 2016

Dougler the Outlier

Friday was a hard day. Life seemed to come crashing down with a diagnosis of cancer. The day only got worse when I started to Google exactly what was going on in my Dad's head. I was consumed by the statistics and felt like we were fighting a helpless battle. But late that evening, my husband, Derek, and I had a conversation with my parents about outliers. Over the past year, Derek has had a passion for figuring out what makes extraordinary people so different: he wants to know about their eating habits, their sleeping habits, their exercise habits. Derek told my Dad that he wants him to focus on being an outlier, to be different than the average, to fight a cancer with an extremely high rate of recurrence. My Dad has always been an outlier and there's no reason for him to stop now.

So with that, we are choosing to focus on the positives as we move forward. More specifically, we are thinking about the things that set my Dad up to be an outlier, as well as the things that can help him continue to be an outlier.


Dr. O'Kelly was very happy with how the surgery went. He said they were able to get so much of the tumour that they were left with healthy brain tissue, which is awesome. We feel so blessed that my Dad's tumour was operable and that the doctors could remove so much of it, leaving my Dad with the best chance at fighting this cancer. My Dad has also been healing unbelievably well. He has been home for almost two weeks, his swelling and bruising is a thing of the past, and he hasn't taken pain meds since he first got home. Other than the scar (which is healing beautifully), you would never know he is recovering from brain surgery. We feel very hopeful that the radiation and chemotherapy will destroy the cancer cells that are left. Many people that are diagnosed with brain cancer don't have a surgery that went as well as my Dad's, so we feel like he has a good chance at beating this tumour. He is all set up to be an outlier!


As I mentioned earlier, the cancer has a high rate of recurrence, so we have been spending a lot of time researching ways to prevent the cancer from coming back. We are planning on discussing a lot of these alternative treatments with the doctors at the Cross Cancer Institute on Thursday morning. Although we think all of the treatments will be okay, we want to be sure that there aren't any contraindications that we aren't aware of. We will post an update in the future about some of the alternative things that my Dad ends up doing. The hope is that some of these changes will allow him to continue his streak as an outlier!


Between the excellent surgical results, the speedy healing, and the alternative treatments we are considering, we are all feeling fairly positive and hopeful. And although I'm quite sure I say this in every post, your prayers for our family have been absolutely amazing. Throughout this all, we still feel like God is holding our family in the palm of His hand. We know He is with us, that He is in control. So let's all continue to "rejoice in hope; be patient in affliction; be persistent in prayer" (Romans 12:12).


- Tara

Saturday 10 December 2016

My Best Man


Doug and Ed
Doug is my best man – he has been for a long time.  Sure, he stood up for me at my wedding but, really, he was my best man before my wedding day.  Long before I even started dating my lovely wife, Harriet, Doug was my best man.  We frolicked through life with an amazing group of friends.  We learned a lot of lessons – many the hard way.  We played, laughed, worked, wept, learned, loved, grieved and matured together.  We shared the highs and low of life, and death, and we did it together.  Doug was a stalwart in this group, sharing his uncommon wisdom with grace and humour and coming up with some of the craziest ideas you could imagine!
Len, Mark, Ed, and Doug
Even though Doug and I have been separated by the Rockies for many years I’ve still connected with him regularly, particularly when I was facing a tough situation or a big decision in life.  Doug’s always been there when I needed him.
I’ll bet a lot of you reading this post know that Doug is your best man too.  Loretta, Tara, Leanne and Erin certainly do – and so do many more.  Doug has that way with people.  His humility and grace draw the best out of those he engages with.   Doug encounters people with genuine interest and authenticity.
I was Doug’s best man too.  I stood up for him at his wedding.  Loretta wanted me riding shotgun, asking me to do my best to keep him in line for that special day!
Doug, Mark, Ed, and Len
I’m standing up for Doug again today – with so many of you.  I’m standing with him on this journey he walks.  I’m standing with Doug and his family to support them in any way I can.  
I’m also standing at the gates of heaven asking, pleading, begging and, like the Bruce Cockburn song says, I’m Waiting for a Miracle.  

- Ed Noot

Friday 9 December 2016

Leaving a Hallway...

"So... this has been less than a stellar morning." - my Dad.

This morning we left a hallway and entered into the room we were all hoping we could avoid. 

The pathology report indicated that the tumour that was removed last week was malignant.  Although the neurosurgeon is very happy with how the surgery went, we have a long road ahead of us.  

My Dad has an appointment on Thursday, December 15th at the Cross Cancer Institute, where an oncologist will tell us more about the tumour and the road to come.  My Dad will start radiation as soon as he has recovered enough from the surgery, followed by an oral form of chemotherapy. 

My Dad reminded us that "If you're going to believe in miracles, you can't choose which ones and when."

     - Erin

Thursday 8 December 2016

Appointment for Results

We found out this afternoon that my Dad, my Mom, and us girls will be going to meet with the neurosurgeon for the pathology results tomorrow morning at 8:45am. You have been journeying with us thus far on this page. We ask you to pray with audacious hope and for a restful, peaceful sleep tonight.


I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I will remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,
for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

Lamentations 3:19-24
A sun dog right after my parents found out about the appointment.

Wednesday 7 December 2016

Waiting...

The last few weeks around the Monsma household have been an education in waiting.  First we were waiting for tests in the hospital.  Then, we waited for Doug's (my father-in-law) surgery.  Next up was the waiting through the surgery.  Then.... for the doctor to come speak with us about how the surgery went.  Now, we wait for the results of Doug's pathology report and the answers that it will bring.  Waiting, for lack of a better word, is shitty (because there is no better word).  There are 24 whole hours each day to think about what you are waiting for and wishing that you could will the news to come that very instant.  The waiting can bring amazing moments of family, friendship, and prayer.  But, as is human nature, waiting can also open the mind up to fears, worries, and despair. (Really Satan?!?  Give it a rest!)

Last weekend I was reading through one of my all-time favourite books and, in the preface of all places, I found a snippet that sure applied to what we've been going through.  The book is Mere Christianity, written by the incomparable C.S. Lewis. Good 'ole Clive Staples is comparing waiting to standing in a hallway.  The various rooms opening onto this hallway are representative of different life circumstances.  He writes;

"... I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise."

My first thought when reading this was that, as much as I hate the waiting, it's very comforting to hear, and hopefully know, that God has a purpose in it all.  God has a purpose in everything.  Including the results of Doug's pathology report.  As much as there is a certain doorway from our current hallway that we all hope the pathology report will open, we have to know that whichever door God does open it is for the best.  God's plan is perfect.  It is not always clear to the diminished eyes of humanity, but it is perfect.

Now this brings me to the whole point of my ramblings... Joy.

Just to clarify, by "joy" I do not mean happiness.  I am also not referring to Doug's sister-in-law (although she is delightful!).  What I mean is joy as an attitude of the heart.

In these times of uncertainty and waiting, I have been incredibly impressed by the joy I have witnessed these last weeks in the Monsma house.  This doesn't mean that everyone is always happy and laughing.  There has been laughter, but there have also been tears.  In all of this waiting there has been an amazing attitude shown by each person in the family. And this makes me incredibly proud of you all.

For me, joy stems from trusting three truths (among other things);

  1. That in all things God works for the good of those who love him. (Romans 8:28)
  2. Bad things can never last.
  3. The best is yet to come.

I actually have these three points written down on sticky notes that are placed strategically in my world.  Trusting that God is in control brings me incredible peace and joy.  Most of the time I suck at giving up control to trust in God (hence the sticky note reminders), but when I do, I feel blessed. 

So, this is my true hope and prayer - that in the coming days, God takes Doug's health situation, and the waiting that has come along with it, and does something AMAZING.

So, if you're reading this, please take this minute right now to pray.  Let's be prayer warriors!  There is nothing that cannot be accomplished through faith and prayer!

"We can be sure our prayers are answered precisely in the way we would want them to be answered if we knew everything God knows."  - Timothy Keller

       - Matthew

Monday 5 December 2016

Post-Surgery Reflections on a Couple of Common Sayings

My Dad had brain surgery exactly one week ago. As Tara predicted in her post titled "Home", following my Dad's discharge from the hospital, things around here have been quite similar to how they were in the week before the surgery - a lot of sitting around, the same prescriptions every few hours (although in decreased doses), and me making lunch everyday (yippee!). At this time, we continue to wait for the pathology results.  

Since my Dad's surgery, I've been reflecting a lot on the application of a couple common sayings. 


The first is that you can't judge a book by its cover. 


Concerning this saying, I can't stop thinking about the fact that, during my Dad's surgery, Dr. O'Kelly and others actually saw my Dad's brain. However, as the saying goes, my Dad's brain cannot be judged by its cover. 


I'm quite sure that, as far as brains go, my Dad's brain looked rather unremarkable. However, looking past its outward appearance, my Dad's brain is anything but. Rather, his brain is tremendously creative, insightful, wise, funny, humble and kind. 


While I may not have actually seen my Dad's brain, I've spent my life reading its story and as we've said before in this blog, it is such a good one. 


The second saying that I've been thinking a lot about is that, in contrast to the first, a picture is worth a thousand words. 


Concerning this saying, as a result of my Dad's surgery, my Dad now has an incision across the top of his head, starting at his right ear and ending approximately two and a half inches away from his left ear. At present, the incision is covered by 23 staples (no one guessed correctly!). As the saying goes, this incision is worth a thousand words. 


When I see my Dad's incision, I see so much more than the fact that he underwent brain surgery. I see that he is brave, courageous and trusting. 


More symbolically, I see so much more than staples covering the incision. I see my Mom, Tara, Derek, Kase, Ben, Erin, Matthew, my Grandma Rita, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, and our friends supporting and reinforcing my Dad during this time, each one made stronger by the others surrounding it. 


You can't judge a book (or in this case, a brain) by its cover, but a picture (or in this case, an incision) is worth a thousand words.   


          - Leanne

Saturday 3 December 2016

This Epic Story

For the past 10 days, my new morning routine has been to start the coffee maker and to read the Monsma blog for updates and comments.  I suspect that I am not the only one who has this new routine.  Like Doug has done countless times in my life, just when I get comfortable with a routine, he disrupts it by asking me to consider something different.  Classic Doug – just when I am comfortable, he changes my way of being.  So, this morning, instead of reading the blog, I am writing for it.  

Some of you have been able to share the same air with Doug, Loretta and the girls during this next page of Doug’s journey.  For many, including myself, who are separated from the family by things like distance, mountains, international borders or oceans, this blog has been our invitation into the Monsma story and Doug’s next page.

And, parallel to the work Doug has been doing through his work with hundreds of Christian school teachers globally (therefore, thousands of students), this blog has been an invitation from the Monsma family for all of us to reflect on the stories that we are part of, that we are living.  That is what good stories do; they reframe things for us and empower us to reclaim every day moments that may have lost their significance.

For our family, a routine car ride home from dance class became an opportunity for my 9 year old to share with her friend about her dad’s friend, Doug, who is “really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really nice” and….. had brain surgery.  Listening to 9 years old speculate about the details of brain surgery actually makes for a good car ride – ending the car ride in prayer for Doug with my daughter makes for a great car ride.  After starting the day by reading the blog, my morning dog walk, something to get done before work, has become my morning ‘Doug walk,’ something to be intentional about.  A simple bracelet that has been without purpose in my girl’s toy bin has become my prayer beads for the Monsma family – Pink for Doug, yellow for Loretta, purple for Tara, blue for Leanne, and orange for Erin – I don’t leave home without them.  Added bonus: listening to my 7 year old daughter explain to her teammates at soccer practice why their coach is wearing this bracelet.



That’s what good stories do – they change ordinary moments.  By sharing their journey with us, the Monsma family hasn't given us a blog, they have given us an invitation to live a better story and change our ordinary moments. 

I think that is why the blog is so important to many of us – it shares the story of a family who knows they are part of a bigger story, who are living a better story. 

One of my very first encounters with Doug was him sharing a passage from Donald Miller’s book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years:

“And once you live a good story, you get a taste for that kind of meaning in life, and you can’t go back to being normal; you can’t go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time.  The more practiced stories I lived, the more I wanted an epic to climb inside of and see through to its end.”


My friend Doug has always been a good story to me; his life continues to be an invitation.  I am very grateful that the Monsma clan has invited us to climb into this epic story, Doug’s next pages, with them.  

     - Darryl deBoer