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The willows in the wetlands look ghostly, wrapped in a heavy fog that has settled over Sanctuary. Recent rains removed much of the remaining snow and yesterday’s first appearance of a red-winged blackbird made spring’s arrival more official than the date on the calendar. How quickly plants long buried in snow assert themselves again! The grasses are bright green, the daffodils and iris have pushed their blades two to three inches up from the ground, and all sorts of tiny leaves are appearing. Yesterday, the geese were moving across the sky in great numbers as they took advantage of winds high above. Today, everything is still – we are all waiting for the sun’s return.

After five years, I am facing the reality of the disease awakening after a long time of it “simmering”, a term used by the oncologist. Now pain has become my most intimate companion, my appetite comes and goes, and my mind is trying to deal with the entity of this person it occupies. Since we have put into place the pieces of pain management a long time ago, the only thing that we can do is increase the dosage of medications, and even then, there is always the presence of “hurting”. I am thinking of death again, and reflecting on how much I wish to hold on to this life with all of the dear people that are mine to know and love. Of course, there is Alphie, too, and the birds and creatures of Sanctuary. It feels as if the pain has grabbed my life and begun to change the essence of it, perhaps like the tree given over to bonsai, where it will be trimmed and tied and reshaped into something entirely different than was originally intended.

Since Biblical times, believers in God have called for surcease from pain. Many of the psalms have very descriptive verses about the ills and difficulties of life, and in countless words written since then, people have taken on the subject of “Why?” All sorts of conclusions have come and gone. For some, it has fallen into the pit of punishment for sin, for others, it has been described as a tool for burning away the dross and leaving only the purified self in its place. There are many other thoughtful commentaries on the matter, but I have yet to find anything that answers the question, and it joins the great body of “why’s” that we pick up, examine, and finally put back down, unanswered. Perhaps the knowing of a thing doesn’t change it at all, so I conclude that it is the exhortation to “live by faith” that is my resting place. Ultimately, it is God alone who will take me where I must go.

As I began this, I said to Charles, “I wish I felt better today. . . it would make writing this easier”. There followed a discussion between us – was I experiencing a sag, perhaps? More than a dip, surely, and less than a slump? I think I am in a sag en route to a slump. Even though we now have splendid sunlight and many cardinals singing loudly all over Sanctuary, today was not good for me with the pain increasing and a general fog of “unwell” invading my digestive system. The lack of appetite makes meal preparation a trial. For the most part, this has been my continuing contribution to our household, and I love to cook, while Charles loves to eat. It has been a fine set-up which I hope to continue, however, since much of meal preparation is crafting foods which one personally loves to eat, when that desire is gone, those same items which sang out possibilities for dinners and suppers now just lie there looking drab and dull.

In the last weeks of winter Olympics, we enjoyed watching the beautiful people flinging their incredibly well trained bodies down mountains, across ice rinks and up, up and over astonishing heights of snow. I think it would be very difficult to see four years or more of endless training end in a tumble or a mistake brought about by a millisecond of inattention. One then must claim personal growth and other less tangible rewards than medals and glory. Now, the games are over, and there is likely a giant sag/slump flowing down from Vancouver where there most certainly must be multiple trips off the mountaintops to the plains of “life as usual”. Hopefully, we will all commence to recover, spring will come soon, and life will deliver daffodils and delight once again.

This morning there were seven red finches in a row on the topmost branch of the plum bush, all facing me and without a clue how lovely they looked in the sunlight. How bright and fine everything appeared for a change! This was the first day that remained sunny throughout in a very long time.

In a recently acquired book on care and maintenance of orchids, dear Charles read that spraying the plants with Listerine mouthwash will either kill or drive away aphids, white fly, and all other pests. He has taken to this wisdom with his usual vigor, and now, at least once a week, there arises from the greenhouse the scent of great amounts of mouthwash. Who knew how overwhelming that would be? In spite of the cold I fling open the windows and breathe deeply. If the check out people at the store take note of the frequent purchase of multiple bottles of mouthwash by the dignified looking gentleman, do they wonder why he needs so much? And if they asked, would they believe him if he said it was for his orchids?

Today we went to visit the oncologist. The conversation was a very satisfying one, because he answered all sorts of questions that we had likely asked before, but needed to ask again. One concerned the nature of “blasts”. He told us they are infant cells formed in the bone marrow, but not yet designated for the job they are to perform, whether that of the white cells, or red, or other. The cancer causes these useless cells to continue to proliferate, taking up more and more space and causing the body to be unable to create the needed mature cells for it to function correctly. It appears that well over 35% of my blood is given over to blasts now and the number continues to grow.

We visited about all sorts of things, though the question at the core was really “How much longer will I live?” I think this question has been hovering over humanity from the beginning, and we know well that only God knows, but we ask anyway. Jesus says to his disciples, “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?” (Luke 12:25-26) It is always the words and wisdom of Scripture and the beauty of the hymns of the faith that carry me onward, so now I become the child again and pray:

“Now the light has gone away; Father, listen while I pray,
Asking Thee to watch and keep And to send me quiet sleep.

Jesus, Savior, wash away All that has been wrong today;
Help me ev’ry day to be Good and gentle, more like Thee.

Let my near and dear ones be Always near and dear to Thee;
Oh, bring me and all I love to Thy happy home above”.

This has been a colorful week. On Wednesday I received two bags of “packed red cells” and on Sunday, daughter Janna, the twin granddaughters and myself were caught in a “whiteout” on the highway between Seward and Lincoln. Blue is sure to come soon.

As before, the blood transfusion brought vast relief and as before, there are some signs that something else is working on “life continued” within my body. The first thing I noticed after spending the day at the hospital was getting into my car; as I got behind the wheel, I had a very strong message, “This isn’t my car!” It was very strange and disorienting, but I looked at the keys in my hand, and my second thought was an overriding, “Don’t be ridiculous” and I commenced to start the car and return home. I have not had the grand “bump” that I did in December, but I do have more energy. The pain level has increased so I am in need of more opiates in order to function. I consider what other things the blood has brought to me, and I feel that this time, perhaps the blood came from a serious and sad person. Of course, our never-ending winter with the mostly grey skies may also be an influence.

Last Thursday, Janna, Fiona and Ursula drove from Lake Bluff to spend a long weekend with us; it was a wonderful surprise. On Sunday, we loaded valentines, a bouquet of roses and valentine cookies (made and decorated by the twins and their grandmother) into the car and started out for Lincoln. We planned on church first, then a Valentine’s Day party at Heidi’s house. Charles left early in the morning and called after the first service to tell us that driving was slow but manageable when he made the trip. We started off and ran into a complete “whiteout” which is truly dreadful. We were headed east, and could see nothing at all. We needed to turn around, but that was a huge challenge since we had to find a place to cross the left lane in order to reverse our journey. We would meet cars that we couldn’t see until they were within ten feet of us. Janna saw a driveway to a farm where trees blocked the blowing snow, so she was able to cross the highway and pull into it. The car behind us did the same thing. We maneuvered the car around, and got back on the road. We had a number of miles to go, and these were just as harrowing going westward. We made it home again without incident–Janna is a veteran of many road trips and a very competent driver and she said this was one of her worst driving experiences, ever.

Later in the morning, we had our own Transfiguration Day worship with the readings and singing of psalms and hymns. Before we started, I asked Ursula if she knew about Transfiguration, and she said, “Oh yes, I learned about it in Harry Potter.” As we held our own service, we too were enveloped in white; but ours was snow blowing fiercely past the windows. We were relieved when Charles came home safely – he reported seeing many accidents en route. It was one of those unforgettable days.

Today, Janna and the girls returned home. We find the house very still though the sounds of happy laughter and music still linger in the corners of the rooms. Alphie’s sorrowful looks convey to us that he notices the absence of many more hands, hugs and walks. Ash Wednesday arrives tomorrow and Lent begins. Forty days later on the first Sunday in April, Easter is celebrated, and by then, spring will surely be here, too.