Blood Clots and Chemo Update

Much has happened within this past week and a half. Last week Mama thought she had a reaction to the contrast dye used for the CT-scan. Her veins were prominent and blue in her left arm and she thought there was a swollen lymph node in her armpit as well. This caused some discomfort for a few days, but after a while it subsided and, therefore, Mama thought it was improving. However, on October 24^th she decided to go in for an appointment to ensure everything was fine before chemo. While there, they discovered two large blood clots, one under her port and another in her basilic vein near her armpit. This caused some concern, especially due to its proximity to her heart. They immediately began daily Fragmin injections into her abdomen and Coumadin doses. She is improving and they have ceased the injections of Fragmin. She will continue with Coumadin as long as her port is in place.

Chemotherapy went as well as to be expected. We left for the hospital around 7:30 this morning. After completing her new daily routine at the Anticoagulation Clinic, we continued onto the Cascade Cancer Center where she eventually started the infusion. We tried to pass the time lightheartedly with board games, cards, jokes, and reading aloud to one another. We left the hospital around 1:30 and at this time Mama was experiencing some dizziness. She has been resting at the home, taking short naps, hydrating, and eating minimal amounts of applesauce and crackers. She is such a champion, and we are so proud of her.

I will further update as time passes. Her next chemo appointment is scheduled for two weeks from today, November 14^th.  Thank you all for your prayers and continued support, especially with meals and care packages. Mama feels so surrounded by love. It has truly been a blessing.

Thoughts from my journal

Summer has certainly ended for Washington and in its place the customary rains of fall have inaugurated the season. Driving to work this morning I was accompanied by the forceful beat of raindrop after raindrop upon my windshield in a relentless downpour. Each falling drop seemed to add an extra weight upon my shoulders, an increasing gravity that I couldn’t detect until walking through the door at work. This gravity dislocated a pillar within my soul, causing everything inside to shift off balance. I could feel it. The feeling that at any moment this pillar may give way causing the entire structure of composure to tumble into a crumble of emotional disaster.

God, what is going on inside me today?

Looking back on my morning, little things that usually paint my face with a smile caused my eyes to roll in annoyance. The drip of the coffee maker brewing. Copper (our dog) running into my legs in excitement for his breakfast.  Mama asking me how my morning was and the schedule for my day…Moment after moment of precious holiness and still my soul was congested, incapable of inhaling the rich scent of joy.

But why, God?

“These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full”(John 15:11 ESV).

I turn on the lights of the classroom and squint my eyes as the bright rainbow colors of the toddler room greet me. I try to remain busy, sweeping and wiping down the tables before the little ones arrive for the day. I am annoyed at how fast my mind seems to be running before daylight. And I preach the above verse to God, frozen in a moment of vulnerability with my Beloved and forgetting the obvious that He penned the promise to me.

Joy. Full Joy. More-than-human Joy. God-joy residing in me. Glorious-divine-joy whose perfection removes the essence of lack.

Okay, God, where is that joy now? Jesus paid so that I could have it always and forever and I want it NOW!

 Silence. I wait in a moment of expectation, staring at the pile of crumbs my broom’s movement accumulated. And in an ordinary second void of the spectacular, I feel the truth. It was one I was not to be received with the sight of my eyes or the listening of my ears, but with the senses of my heart.

Immediately, before I had time to object, raw tears swell in my eyes. And these tears seem to escort with them the majesty of understanding. And I hear His familiar gentle voice echo in the quarries of my being, “Your tears are safe in my hands.”  

A sweet release. A needed unlocking. And the drops from my eyes inundate my cheeks. I take a prolonged sigh, treasuring the cool of oxygen into my lungs. My tears cease, only leaving the evidence of swollen eyes and a warm damp-streaked face.

Breathing seems to be easier now, and the secret buried deep rises to the surface.

Chemo. Tomorrow.

Ah, this was the cause of my unrest. The culprit of my distress. The enemy that threatened to bring the one thing I dreaded the most…change. More change. Since returning from Mozambique this summer I have been overdosed with change. Change in community. Change in school plans. Change with a potential romance. Change in my relationship with my brother.

And through all this change I have clung tightly to the one avenue of security, my best friend, my kindred spirit, the one who completes my sentences, who has stood by my side through every type of loss—from losing my first tooth to experiencing my first death—whose arms welcomed me into this world and continue to cradle me through the unexpected, and now even this relationship is threatened by change brought on by chemo. So much change.

Of course Mama will still be Mama. She will still possess every quirk of her personality—the way she twirls her head, squints her eyes, and rapidly blinks when she smiles, or the manner in which she purses her lips when she is in deep thought. She will still contain her profound love for beauty and life found in the smallest of daily wonders. She will still nurture the remarkable dreams nestled snugly within her heart.

But she is a woman of incredible energy and enthusiasm. She seems to be constantly satiated on optimism. Her voice characterized by authentic perkiness. Her hugs are marked by such intentionality and tight squeezes minutely shy of cutting off the circulation in one’s arms. Her laughs are so voluminous they shroud the atmosphere in life and bliss. This, this consecrated grain of Mama’s nature that so many times I overlooked because of its constancy, it is this grain that may be temporarily frozen by the frost of nausea and exhaustion through the winter of chemotherapy.  

And I feel helpless. I can no longer delay the effects of cancer as I can the coming of winter. The last of my tears, the castaway of the morning’s emotion, slowly moistens my eye.

The smallest glimpse of fresh sunlight shines through the window and twinkles in dotted patterns on the wooden floor, a portion of the pattern landing atop my broom’s dust pile. I dispose of the crumbs and stare at the light. For some reason it brings me comfort, hope, peace. To think that such clear light gleamed upon unwanted trash, the rejected remains from the ground. There is beauty in the ashes.

And perhaps this is where His subtle answer to my question is to be found. Perhaps joy is too powerful a force to be limited to smiles and laughter. Perhaps its existence is the most glorious when oozing forth from groaning cries and salty tears. Perhaps rainbow beams glitter more awe through stormy skies.  Perhaps light can better reflect off teardrops. Perhaps it is here where amazing grace is inhaled.

Because two thousand years past He penetrated the threshold from heavenly to dust, that He might be called Immanuel, God with us. With us through the laughter. With us through the sorrow. With us in the fruitfulness. With us in the barrenness. With us in the constancy. With us in the change.

And this answer resonates within. Joy is not subject to the laughter. The fruitfulness. The constancy. It is found prior, in the miracle of the “with us.” In the existence of light dwelling upon broom’s crumbs. Of heavenly resting on dust. Of beauty among the ashes. Of Immanuel with us.

Driving home hours later and the raindrops persist. My mind flashes back to the heaviness of this morning brought on by the weight of the precipitation. But now, I see a hidden splendor within these drops. Rather than park my car in its usual abode within the garage, I park just outside under the drizzle canopy. I open my door and feel the rain gently caress my exposed face. I raise my gaze to the thick clouds and allow the downpour to soak into my cotton shirt and jeans. He is here now. Immanuel. Tears from heaven mixed with the saltiness of my own. He is with us in the weeping. And a thin smile creeps its way across my lips. Joy.

 

Reflections From a Daughter

(Much of this next entry may not seem applicable to Mama’s journey of cancer. It may not be a post you would be interested in reading. But this blog has become a space for me to release the tension of pent up thoughts in my soul. It is an escape for me, another quiet place for me to meet with God. I recognize it as another gift to me from Him. Thank you for indulging me.)

Lately, my thoughts have been fixated upon the life Jesus came to give. Specifically, I have been focusing on John 10:10:

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly" (NASB).

“I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows)” (Amplified).

“I came so that they could have life—indeed, so that they could live life to the fullest”  (Common English Bible).

Life to the fullest. Each day overflowing with abundance. Hours passed in pure enjoyment and delight. That is our lot. This is the nature of the life He came to give. He didn’t suffer on the Cross, bearing all sin, sorrow, depression, poverty, captivity, depravity, and disease so that I can live a life of drudgery, passing boring days in mundane ritual in my attempt to survive until the weekend. No! He came to give life! And not just ordinary life. It is a life filled with the riches of Himself, expressed in the height of ecstatic joy, relishing in the freedom of today, savoring the beauty of each moment. This is my portion and I am determined to accept nothing less.

But what does abundant life look like in a world dictated by systems and injustices where work schedules and taxes are a must and where cancer and disease play their course? Indeed, I use to limit abundant life to the rare moments I fulfilled something on my bucket list, be it parachuting or crossing another state border. Or possibly after visiting the Seven Wonders of the World then, just maybe, my life would be abundant. No. Something in the pit of my stomach stirs causing my heart to faintly believe that it is here, it is available to me now.

Perhaps it is not a destination to be reached but a reality to be enjoyed, an invitation to stop anticipating for the future and begin drinking in the adventure of the moment. Perhaps it is not an abstract thing but a very tangible Person who is the "resurrection and the life" and who chooses to indwell the hearts of men to offer them such rich existence all of their days. Thousands of precious moments, each a gift, an extended reminder of grace, yet many times masked by the stress of tomorrow, the busyness of today, or the criticism of yesterday. Simple. Brief. Easily overlooked, yet when seen properly these moments contain the fullness of heaven, the breath of joy, the scent of Calvary. He died so that I might live. And oh, I long to live. I want to be fully alive each passing minute, drinking in the fragrance of the air into my lungs, whether I am doing something impressive in the world’s eyes or living another habitual day hidden away in our suburban neighborhood. Life is life and it is in essence abundant and present in each temporal moment because of what He paid. It is here now because He is Immanuel, God with us.

And maybe this is the key that unlocks the answer to my question, “What is abundant life?” It is not to be found in the grandiosity of the superb but the commonness of the everyday, the regularity of each minute. It is hidden in the ordinariness of each hour because that is life! Life does not constitute the moments I will live, but rather the moments I have already lived. And I begin to ponder and get lost in the flashes of the many ordinary occurrences that I seem to pass by as common yet contain the palpitation of abundant life because He is there. The dimples of a smile, bubbles, and balloons. Milk mustaches and belly button tickles. Gargling morning cups of coffee and mouths wide open catching snowflakes. Jumping in mud puddles and slurping spaghetti. Fingerprints in play dough and lipstick stains on windows.

Fleeting moments. Hundreds upon hundreds each day. Yet each full of grace, another ephemeral reminder that He died that I might have LIFE. A transient encouragement to laugh, to see the joy in the now, the residue of His blood that shadows the moment with beauty.

And my mind drifts off to think of the precious moments of abundant life Mama and I have shared this past week. Spending rainy Sunday afternoons at Starbucks playing speed scrabble. Fixing Mama’s hair in a fancy updo one last time before chemotherapy. Passing hours laughing at quotes, reading children’s books, and smelling candles in our favorite doodad store. And yesterday embarking on a road trip, the hours flying by as we laughed at random town names, enjoyed the sunshine on a forecasted rainy day, finished each other sentences, completed our makeup parked at a gas station, and  talked about how God sounds like Tigger rather than Eeyore. We met up in Portland with our dear friends, another mother-daughter duo, enjoying the time talking and laughing, olive oil tasting, driving under double rainbows, and contemplating the many choices of toppings at frozen yogurt.

And I am in awe. Are these not moments of abundant life experienced in the midst of the difficult circumstances of cancer? In light of chemotherapy around the corner, it is comforting to know that the regularity of these normal happenstances will continue to come and go carrying with them the essence of abundant life. We don’t have to wait to experience life to the full until Mama has completed her treatment. No, we get to LIVE LIFE, abundant life, through it all, drinking in the sweet wine of the Cross each day, soaking in the moment of His presence here with us now. Mama is a woman who will choose nothing less than her portion offered her at the Cross—an inheritance of blissful joy, constant laughter, endless smiles, wild freedom…abundant life.

She has chosen not to accept this as a lot of warfare from the Enemy, but rather happily sing praise. Every pore in her skin is accustomed to absorbing the rich treasure each moment excretes. She is the walking illustration of 1 Peter 1:8, “even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.”

I invite you to join me in following Mama’s example. Enjoy the ransom of the Cross today. Whatever that looks like (such as driving bear-footed, eating olives around each finger, watching feathers loosely float through the wind, etc.) drink in another day of His perfect grace, His presence in you transforming the normal into holy. He died that we might live. Let’s LIVE ABUNDANTLY.

Post-Surgery Results and Scheduled Chemo Treatment

It has been about two and a half weeks since our last post. Since then there has been quite a summation of follow up appointments and results. Much of it is very medical, so I will let Mama explain it all in her words (since she understands it better than I do!).

I’m all healed up from surgery and feel great! Pathology reports came back with the best outcome – Praise the Lord! No cancer was found in the lymph nodes. They got the entire tumor with good margins all around.

 This past Monday (Oct. 15^th) was another long day at the hospital. We (Pete and I) started with a post-op appointment with the surgeon. Then we had a chemo consult with the oncology nurse. For those of you who want to know, I start Chemotherapy on Oct. 31^st. My first 4 rounds will be every 2 weeks (totaling 8 weeks-) of Adriamycin and Cytoxan. (Those are the big guns!) I then will have a 3 week break before I start the next round. If all goes as scheduled, I will have a break over Christmas/New Year’s – another “Praise the Lord”! When Chemo starts again in January, I will have once a week treatments for 12 weeks (3 more months) and be given Taxal. This drug is much easier to tolerate, although it does cause fatigue. Then there is another short break before radiation begins. Right now, radiation is scheduled every day for 7 weeks. As you can see it is a long 7 months to go.

The Lord brought encouragement to my heart Wednesday night when I ran into a breast cancer survivor at church. She’s been cancer-free for 2 years. She was sharing how the fog sets in and treatment can feel like it will never end. She now looks back at it all, and it wasn’t so bad. Jesus was near walking her through it, and it’s now a testimony of His grace and Presence with her…

 After the Chemo consult, I had a CT-scan. Those results are back and there is nothing suspicious in the liver or lungs. God keeps giving me reasons to rejoice! J After my CT-scan, we headed to cardiology and I had an echo-cardiogram done on my heart. For those of you who do not know what that is, it is an in-depth ultrasound of the heart. The “echo-techs”(that is what they are called!) were the most adorable young gals (like 24 years old) and they were having so much fun with their new imaging screen they took 75 minutes of playing around watching every chamber and valve of the heart from a number of different angles. They can even track rate and direction of blood flow. As the patient, you get to lie there and just watch your heart do its work. It’s fascinating! Those heart-results are not in yet, but this was just a base-line test to track my heart now and make sure it does not get damaged with the Chemo drugs.

 Pete was the faithful guy that he always is and was by my side for the whole day – what a trooper! I love him so much and am so thankful he’s there smiling at me and making jokes “on the fly” to make me laugh.

Pete flew the next day to Asia to do his training work over there. He returns on Oct. 30^th, so he will be with me for my 1^st Chemo treatment. My Mom flies back out to visit on Friday, Oct. 26^th so she will be here as well. I am so blessed to be surrounded by my dear family and friends as I proceed down this road. They brighten my path along the way.

The last few mornings, while spending time with God in His word, I’ve been pondering Romans 4 and 5. Particularly the following verses:

 Rom. 4:17b, 20 –
“…the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were. He (referring to Abraham) did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what He had promised.”

 Rom. 5:2-5 –
“…we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we rejoice in our sufferings, because WE KNOW that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” (NIV)

 God’s Word brings so much life, encouragement and counsel when facing tough trials. He always strengthens and builds our hope and faith to believe Him and trust Him. He knows what He’s doing! God waited until Abraham was too old and powerless in himself to produce an heir. Not only that, his wife Sarah was 90 years old and “her womb was dead”. (5:19) God wanted it known that He is never powerless! He is a wonder-working, miracle-making, healing-handling God. He loves to show up and do what no man can do. It gives Him great pleasure and glory!!

 He’s up to something in my life as I face cancer. He is my Strength, my Joy and my Song.

 “He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry here, none other has ever known…” (“The Garden” Hymn)

Surgery and Recovery

Hello all! I am so sorry I am just getting this post out! I know many of you have been asking how the surgery went and how Mama is recovering. I will let her tell you in her own words (marked by the italics):

Surgery – done!  Check that off the list!

We headed to the hospital around 8:45am.  At 9:45 in the Breast Center unit, they injected radioactive solution into the Breast tissue.  The solution works its way through and the Doctors watch for how the solution drains into the Lymph system.  This is how they determine the Sentinel node for the region of the Breast where the tumor would naturally drain. This step can literally take hours since every person’s lymph system responds differently  (based on circulation of blood, etc.).

Next, a small wire gets inserted into the tumor from under the armpit.  Once they confirm it is at the exact spot, there is a way to open up a hook at the end of the wire and have it catch on tumor tissue.  Amazing!  This wire serves as a guide for the surgeon to follow.

We had some wait time at this point and I was instructed to walk the halls to help move the solution along in my system. All of us were completely covered in liquid peace!  A handicapped patient was playing worship music on a grand piano out in the hallway.  As I walked back and forth, it seemed as if the Lord was tangibly singing over me as I got serenaded by the pianist.  My spirit was so full with the goodness of the Lord.  Half the nurses and imaging techs who were prepping me for surgery were Breast Cancer survivors themselves.  Such tenderness and camaraderie surrounded me the whole time – praise Jesus! 

After a while, we headed to nuclear medicine for more imaging and to watch which nodes light up with radioactive dye.  Those nodes get removed in surgery, so they can be biopsied.  Based on the pathology report of the tumor and nodes, my medical oncologist will determine the most specific chemo treatment for me and the type of Cancer that I have.  We will have that report back next Tuesday, (10/09). 

Highlights from the morning include having Pastor Steve and Cheryl and Pastor Larry meet us in the waiting area for hugs and prayers.  And all the texts, voicemails, facebook posts (on Pete’s facebook) and emails that kept coming through from friends all over the country letting me know they were lifting me up in prayer.  The Body of Christ is such an uplifting gift.  I’m so grateful to each of you and the way you have blessed me and are willing to take this journey with me.

After the node tests were complete we headed up to Surgical Services.  We then had about a 4 hour wait.  I rested while the family headed to a Café for a delicious lunch.  Around 4:15 pm they began surgery.  I honestly do not remember a thing!  When I awoke, I was in recovery and it was around 6pm.  My family was still in the waiting area and My surgeon (Dr. Marion Johnson) came out to visit with them and stated the surgery could not have gone any better!  She felt like she got really good margins, removed the isolated nodes and was able to insert the port for chemo. 

I have very little pain at this time and I have complete peace. I’ve been resting and worshipping since surgery and trying to be very specific in my thankfulness to the Lord.  He took care of so many little details it’s hard to remember them all.

Oh Mama! I just love her! She was an absolute champ on the day of surgery. She couldn’t eat or drink anything before the surgery, yet her spirits were high. Daddy and I laughed at our pathetic state because we were SO hungry only after 4 hours of waiting with Mama. She had more energy than we did!

Through this journey, I have been contemplating what exactly is expected and required of us in response to God. As a daughter who deeply loves my mama, I want to be responsible to do what needs to be done in regards to Mama’s healing. Yet, I am at a loss before that sweet Cross of My Beloved. If Jesus accomplished everything upon the Cross, what else is left for me to do? Must I pray long hours throughout each day to show my Daddy God that I really am earnest in my belief that He can heal Mama? Must I strenuously fast to demonstrate that I am hungry for our Healer to receive the glory? (I should mention that we believe in prayer and other disciplines of the church but not as means of assisting God or achieving our sanctification. We don’t believe they are methods of appeasing God, but rather means of enjoying Him.) What is it that God wants from us? “Jesus told them, ‘This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one He has sent” (John 6:29 NLT). It is a response of faith, crazy trust in an invisible God.

And yet, lately I have been thinking that it is impossible for me to make myself believe God. I cannot generate my faith through my own willpower, because even that would become a “work” that takes away from the finished work of the Cross. Therefore, even our faith comes by grace from God.

Sometimes I think the Gospel is too good to be true—Jesus died so that there would not be an ounce of separation between humanity and the Holy Trinity, that we might be perfectly unified for eternity with a Good God. Yet perhaps that is why it is called the Good News. And perhaps that is where faith is imparted: “So faith comes from hearing, that is, hearing the Good News about Christ” (Rom. 10:17 NLT). Wow! Our faith comes from the continual exploration of how good the Good News truly is! We can leave our striving and “good works” at the Cross because Christ accomplished it all! This truth is what allows Mama to rest through the journey in sweet celebration and joy as she drinks deeply of this Good News! Halleluiah!

“We know very well that we are not set right with God by rule-keeping but only through personal faith in Jesus Christ” (Gal. 2:16 MSG).

Giving Thanks Before the Surgery

Dear friends and family,

Tonight I asked Mama how she was feeling about tomorrow’s surgery (scheduled between 1 and 3 tomorrow afternoon). Instead of tell me in spoken words, she decided to journal her thoughts in writing. The following italics are her precious thoughts:

Here are my thoughts as I go into surgery tomorrow morning…

***I’m so glad God let Mom and Ken and I have our big international trip this past March. (Mama, Uncle Ken, and Grandma Lou had the opportunity to travel to Turkey, Rome, and Israel last March for three weeks. It was a dream come true for them!) Next March I will be in chemo/radiation and would not have been able to travel to the other side of the world. Thank you, Jesus!

***Sunday our church body surrounded me second service to pray for me. What a powerful time. When I closed my eyes people were still making their way to the front of the sanctuary to join in the prayer. When I opened my eyes, I literally was surrounded by hundreds of people encompassing me on all sides praying and showing their support. It absolutely overwhelmed my heart. My only response was “WOW!” God is so good to let us journey trials joined to one another as His body. I can’t imagine walking this path alone.

***On Sunday at church I had 5 breast cancer survivors come to me just to share their story, their victory and their support for me. Their radiance and love for Jesus blessed me to tears! I felt so honored that God would choose me to join their ranks. I want to come out of this with so much joy and hope it is unexplainable. I want to shine Jesus the way those beautiful women shone Jesus to me! One survivor gave me a beautiful “survivor” bracelet. It’s a sterling silver pendant bracelet with hope-filled phrases on charms and the breast cancer ribbon charm displayed. She let me know that many, many survivors have worn this bracelet before me and now it’s my turn to wear it. When I’m diagnosed as “cancer free” I get to pass this beautiful keepsake onto a precious woman who is beginning her own journey battling breast cancer. What an honor to wear it and know it represents the suffering, hope, tears and joy of so many women who have gone before me…

***On last thought, when I woke up this morning I thought about the journey ahead of me. I thanked the Lord that He didn’t reveal this tumor to me until after we were mostly settled into our home and lives here in the Northwest. I think if I would have discovered this lump back in June during the move I would have completely broke. He knew it was there. But it did not become “revealed” until we were connected and surround by an entire church body loving us and holding us up. Thank you, Father for your lovingkindness and tenderness in overseeing every detail of our lives! Not only that, but He has orchestrated an amazing team (surgeon, oncologists, doctors, etc.) to oversee my care and treatment. God will be glorified…

Isn’t she amazing?! My jaw continues to drop encountering Mama’s constant thanksgiving. I was also pondering the Lord’s perfection in this journey thus far and I have a few more points to add.

***Grandma Lou planned to visit long before any news of the tumor was revealed. She was here for the biopsy, the verdict of breast cancer, and she decided to delay her return flight until next Tuesday so that she can be with us tomorrow during the surgery and a few days after for the recovery. God knew that Mama would want her mother/close companion for the start of this journey and that Grandma Lou would want to comfort her baby girl as well.

***I was planning on attending University of Washington this fall. However, due to a delay in the processing of my transfer credits I decided to wait to enroll until the winter quarter. A week later we were informed of Mama’s diagnosis. God knew that I would need to be more available for Mama and the home during this time without the added responsibility and time commitment of classes.

***Aaron and his girlfriend planned to come visit this past weekend also long before any news of cancer. Mama is the core of our home and family. Therefore, having the entire family together for a few days helped to refresh and enliven her spirit even more! Going into this week of surgery she said, “Ah! My cup is so full!” God planned far in advance for Mama to celebrate before a physically exhausting week. It is another reminder that the Gospel allows us to dance through the rain!

I have to echo Mama’s appreciation for all of you! The perfect union with Christ that was granted us at His death upon the cross has allowed our family to no longer “evaluate others from a human point of view” (2 Cor. 5:16). “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal. 2:20). When we believe in Christ’s reconciliation to us,  He indwells our very being to live in and through us! Mama sees the beautiful face of Jesus clearly when she beholds the radiance of your smiles in the lobby of the church. She melts in His arms when your arms extend to her in a warm embrace. She feasts upon His goodness through the meals you bring her. She delights in His gifts when you offer her a thoughtful present. She soaks in heaven’s promises through the encouraging words you speak. Why? Because He is in you! Jesus is manifest to her through you—a member of His Body! It is beautiful for me to see every expression of love towards Mama so different yet entirely pure—a gift portraying elegance, a hug encompassing tenderness, a joke manifesting laughter, a card radiating creativity… each expression a unique portrayal of His very heart! We are captivated by the very entity that captivates the heart of God—His beautiful Bride, the Body of Christ, a great congregation that is not complete without YOU! So thank you for all your thoughtfulness towards Mama and our family! The indwelling presence of Jesus expressed through you  has expanded our admiration for our Beloved Christ! You are greatly honored and appreciated by our family!