Pray...

Please pray for Erica and her family. I have no idea how you should pray. I just know that my heart is heavy... and they could sure use a whole lot of prayer right now.

Happy Halloween!

Be safe!

For Immature Audiences Only...

***If you are mature... or if you don't think that talking about poo is funny, PLEASE STOP reading now. This post is not for you. Don't say that I didn't warn you.***

As many people have pointed out in recent weeks, I haven't posted in a long while. I just haven't had anything interesting to share. Or, I did, but didn't want to share with the masses. Or, I had too much to share and didn't know where to start.

So today I'm posting some silliness, just to let everyone know that I'm still here and doing quite well. Really and truly.

Joe and I were quite the immature couple. We were like two little kids, giggling about things kids find funny - like boogers and toe jam. And we also both agreed that poo jokes are funny. Told ya we were immature. With that in mind, today I will be sharing three things related to poo. :)

1. Shortly after Joe died, I adopted his phone. When I open it up, his photo smiles back at me with the message, "You Can Do It!" It always makes me smile and gives me strength. Anytime Joe was feeling discouraged, I would exclaim, "You Can Do It!" Sometimes, I'd invent a ridiculous dance for him to do too. And sometimes... he even did it!

A couple months ago, I was going through the different menus on the phone. I discovered something that I had forgotten about: Voice Memo.
While Joe was sick, he started reading voraciously. When we were out, if he came across a book that sounded interesting, he would go to Voice Memo and record the title and author so that we could see if the library had the book.

I started listening to all of the Voice Memos.

When I got to the message recorded at 9:24am on November 24 (2006) I started giggling.

Joe started it.

The memo says, "The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff."
The recording is only four seconds long, but Joe starts giggling one second in... all because Pooh (as in Winnie the Pooh) sounds like poo. I don't think Joe ever did end up reading the book. But the recording never gets old. I laugh every single time I listen to it.

2. I have this habit of saying, "sigh" out loud instead of actually sighing. The thing is, the Taiwanese word for 'poo' sounds an awful lot like the word 'sigh.' Every single time I said, "sigh"... and I mean every single time... (either because I never got smart enough to stop, or because I unconsciously wanted to let my husband have his fun) Joe would say, "Ewwwwwwwwww! You said poo!" :)

3. Joe and I were fans of the television show, Scrubs. Our all-time favorite episode was the musical episode. Our favorite song from the episode was... "Everything Comes Down to Poo." Listen to it. It's hilarious. While I could say... unfortunately, the song became a reality for us. I would rather say... fortunately, the song enabled us to laugh at the reality of things we experienced. And that's the truth.

As an added bonus for my immature audience that read through this whole post. I'm going to share our second favorite song (by just a hair) from the musical episode of Scrubs, "Guy Love."

Desert Song - Part II

Ray passed this along to me. Since it connects to my previous post (from oh so long ago) I wanted to share it here as well. I could relate to so much of what Jill said... makes the song lyrics more meaningful.

Desert Song

The main reason for my recent trip to Toronto was to visit my dear friend Sheena. Yes, the Sheena who opened her apartment to me while she was in the 'burgh and Joe was in the hospital. I've been blessed with amazing friends. She is one of them. Sheena is real.

...I was going to get preachy...but I'll save that for another day. :) (Stop laughing, Sheena!)

While in Toronto, Sheena, Ray, and I attended the Hillsong United Conference. It was this incredible time of praise and worship. Imagine hundreds and hundreds of people filling up a convention center and praising God. A lot of the people were in high school and college, which made us feel old and young all at the same time.

College is really when my faith blossomed. I'm not exactly the same girl now that I was back then. Back then, I was hyper, loud, and bounced off of the walls. (Only the people who knew me then and now can properly recognize that I've mellowed out a bit.) It didn't happen immediately, but at some point I became such a "Jesus Freak" that I'd go up to almost anyone and say, "Come to church!"
"Join the choir!"
"Praise God!"
"Wake up at the crack of dawn and pray with us!"

Yeah...I was pretty intense. In fact, that Karen would likely scare the living daylights out of the present day Karen. One thing has remained constant though...my faith. There have been days when I have felt so incredibly lost and alone that I have questioned my unwavering faith.
"My world has crumbled around me, why in the world am I still trusting in God? Am I just that dumb and naive?"

I don't really have a good answer for that. All I know is that I needed to have faith. I need to have faith. As much as it doesn't make sense - it's the only thing that does make sense. I could ramble endlessly about the cruelties of life. I could proclaim, "Woe is me." I could play the role of poor, poor widow very well. In fact, I've done all that - not proudly. But, I need to believe that there is a reason for all of this. I need to believe that there is a greater purpose in all of this.

I believe that it's my faith that has carried me through the worst days of my life. It is what enabled me to face my grief head-on. It is what transformed my pain into peace and my fear into excitement. It is what allowed me to feel blessed rather than persecuted.

So I found myself at this conference (that's how I started this whole post, remember?). It was such a wonderful experience. It felt like this perfect way to end this year of grief. For the first time in a long time, I found myself really letting go and praising - not just singing. It was so freeing.

I learned several new songs. One of them became my new theme song. Actually, it became a favorite for all three of us...

Desert Song
words & music by brooke fraser

This is my prayer in the desert
When all that's within me feels dry
This is my prayer in my hunger and need
My God is the God who provides

This is my prayer in the fire
In weakness or trial or pain
There is a faith proved of more worth than gold
So refine me Lord through the flame

I will bring praise I will bring praise
No weapon formed against me shall remain
I will rejoice I will declare
God is my victory and he is here

This is my prayer in the battle
When triumph is still on its way
I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ
So firm on his promise I'll stand

All of my life
In every season
You are still God
I have a reason to sing
I have a reason to worship

This is my prayer in the harvest
When favour and providence flow
I know I'm filled to be emptied again
The seed I've received I will sow

~~~

"Only you can take the widow's cry
And cause her heart to sing"
~ from the song 'Solution' by Hillsong United

One Year

It's been one whole year since my beloved Joe died. What a privilege to love him and be loved by him. He was sweet. He was kind. He was silly. I don't think he had an enemy in the world. He was that lovable. Today, I'm sharing a slide show that our friend Vivian created for his funeral service. It really shows what a joy Joe was.

I know that Joe is going to be waving his terrible towel and cheering up a storm up there in heaven today. GO STEELERS!!!!!!

Ann & Christine

Ann is having a second transplant today. Please keep her and her husband in your prayers...

Christine's sister's cancer has relapsed. It seems so unfair how often cancer keeps striking this beautiful family. Keep them in prayer...

Dream

Last night I had a dream about Joe. I had a dream that he made a miraculous recovery. We were so happy and ran around celebrating for days. We were so happy we forgot to update our blog. People were still sending their sympathies while we were partying. Oooops.

When I woke up from this dream, I was surprised to find that I wasn't sad. I was just happy that I kind of had a few extra days to be with Joe.

The truth is, I've been really happy this past month. Ever since I left Chicago (I guess I haven't shared about that yet...) I have felt this incredible inner peace. My future still holds many unknowns, but my fear has transitioned to excitement. It's a strange feeling for sure - which would explain the tears I mentioned in my last post. Throughout this past year I've had plenty of happy moments, but I haven't actually been happy. If I had too much time to think, I would get sad. If I kept myself busy, I still returned to an empty home and I would get sad. I would sit by myself and feel lonely. I would surround myself with people and still feel lonely. It was a challenge to be real with people, because too often it seemed I would get some pat, generic response. Other times, I would feel smothered with too much concern. Then one day, I woke up and realized that I was happy. Truly, genuinely happy. There is a bit of guilt that creeps into this kind of happiness. Am I disrespecting Joe by being happy? Am I forgetting him? Clearly, the answer is no - although processing and accepting this is still difficult. But, Albert said, "We have been through so much, I think we're entitled to happiness." I'm O.K. with that.

Sunday, September 7 will mark one year since Joe died. That magical one year mark. The day that the world expects you to turn off your grief once and for all and never turn back. Somehow it sounds logical to people, "Well, you can finally move on now." Or, "Well, you have to move on now."

I don't actually believe in grief rules set by anyone. I don't believe in time lines. I don't believe you must be sad at every milestone. I don't believe that tears and sharing stories necessarily means you are holding on too tight. I don't believe that being happy and having fun necessarily means you are running away from grief. I don't believe that you must have alone time or you must surround yourself with people. It truly is a different process for everyone, and I think respecting those differences is important.

Anyway. Right now, I am happy. Yesterday, I was reading some of the cards that Joe sent me over the years, and they made me laugh. I can't believe I had the amazing privilege of being married to him. I feel so blessed.

It's a little early, but I really want to thank everyone for supporting me through this roller coaster ride. Every day I am amazed by how faithful so many of you have been. You have been so generous with your love, time, support, and patience. In my effort to be real about my feelings and experiences, I know that I've talked a lot about DGIs and people saying stupid things. The truth is, the love I've felt has trumped all that stuff I vented about. I wouldn't be where I am spiritually, mentally, and emotionally if I didn't have the amazing support that I have. I really am blessed.

Chop chop

In May 2006, I donated my hair to Locks of Love. It was something that I had wanted to do for years. I knew several people who had already done it - some more than once. Yet, every time I tried to grow my hair out, I would get impatient and end up chopping it off before it was long enough. In 2006, one month before Joe was diagnosed, I finally did it. Joe totally proved that bald is beautiful. Women like Erica have also proven that bald is beautiful. Not all women diagnosed with cancer are prepared to embrace this side-effect though. Cancer is hard enough as it is. With that in mind, I decided after Joe died that I was going to donate my hair again. It's actually the funnest way to make a donation. You get to help someone, and you get a makeover. It's a win-win situation. This time, I decided to donate to Pantene Beautiful Lengths.

I got my hair cut in Toronto. There was no reason for it. I was just up there with friends and it seemed like a fun thing to do. Plus, for my own personal reasons, I wanted to do the chop close to the "one year mark." My friend Cynthia decided to donate too. She had beautiful waist length hair, and donated a foot. Her new 'do is totally hot, don't you think?

I feel like I'm always giving speeches and telling people what to do. But seriously, I know so many people who have happily donated their hair. If you've been blessed with beautiful, long tresses, think about it. It's fun!

Tears

Speaking about shedding tears... Today, I suddenly decided that I needed a big cry. It has been months since I've had a big cry. I cried, and cried, and cried. I cried the kind of cry that hurts so much while it lasts, but then makes you feel like you just unloaded a huge weight. Then I realized that I had no idea whether I was crying about losing Joe...or if I was crying because I'm losing the part of myself that feels lost without Joe. He will always and forever be in my heart. I will never stop loving him. But that feeling of being so lost is fading. It's empowering for sure - yet also so scary, because it's a feeling that I've identified with for so long...

Chapter I

I keep starting and re-starting this post. My mind is crowded with so many thoughts that want to get out, and I haven't been able to figure out where to start. So I'm just going to wing it. :)

I registered for the four day Hospice & Palliative Care Music Therapy Institute at Berklee College of Music. I flew there directly from my trip to Seattle. I felt a little funny, because I was really excited about what I would be learning and excited about stepping back into the world of music therapy. Are you supposed to get excited about Hospice & Palliative Care? I wasn't sure.

Lurking beneath all of that excitement that caused me to randomly jump up and down and "yeep!" (don't worry, I don't know where the yeeping comes from either) was a bit of fear. Two years earlier, my husband was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Nine months earlier he died. In the real world that keeps on going, that's a long time. In the grieving world, that's not a long time at all. Would I end up crying for four straight days? Would I even be able to hear what was being taught? Would I have to run out of the room? Was I completely insane?

The experience ended up being incredible. I was wary at first. It wasn't long before the hospice jokes started. I am able to joke about non-funny stuff with some of my fellow widdas and widders. It's what we do to keep sane (although not for everyone.) But generally, if someone outside of the club (that nobody wants to join) cracks a death joke, they are given the title of DGI. A DGI is a person who "doesn't get it." It's true, I can have a dark sense of humor. The jokes were funny. And by golly, it felt good to be able to laugh at something that isn't supposed to be funny. It felt fine to laugh too, because I was in a room full of people who chose to work with dying people every day.

There were some extremely intense moments during those four days. During one exercise, we worked with a partner. Each person had to choose three people or things that they could not ever imagine losing. Each was written on a notecard. Then a card would be chosen at random, and we would share how it would feel if what was on the card was taken away from us. I could barely bring myself to write anything on my cards. After all, the person I cherished most in the world had already been taken away from me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else dear to me. So I turned off half of my brain.

We also did role plays. We did individual and group role plays with the opportunity to pose as the patient, a family member, or therapist. Scenarios were chosen from a basket. Indiviual sessions were practiced first. My partner volunteered to be the therapist first. He read the slip of paper he had chosen. I was a patient about to be extubated. "Have you ever been part of an extubation?" he asks me. "Well. Yes. But not as a music therapist. It was my husband..." Awkward. But we got through it. It was much more comfortable being on the therapist side.

During the group role plays, we had gone through several scenarios. One last one was chosen. I volunteered to be a family member. The scenario was a lesbian couple in their 70s. They had only been together for a couple years when one was diagnosed with a terminal illness. The healthy partner was worried about being alone. That's who I played. I didn't even think twice about volunteering. Then suddenly, I'm in the midst of this role play telling the therapist how scared I am about losing my partner, and how scared I am about being alone. That's when I realized that this was all striking really close to home. Once again, I turned off half my brain.

But something beautiful happened during these role plays and through each of the lectures. I sat there and thought, "Wow. I wish Joe and I would have had this gift of music therapy while he was sick." Sure we sang together. Sure I toted my darling ukulele to the hospital. But it's different when you're in the middle of the situation as well. My other thought was, "Wow. I really want to be able to bless other families with this gift of music therapy." In hospice and palliative care music therapy, you aren't watching people die. You're helping people to live. Recently, I mentioned that, "I've been learning and discovering that there can be as much beauty and power in death as there is in birth." This concept was continually reinforced during my time at Berklee.

The other part of the program that I found extremely valuable and encouraging was when the speakers would talk about their own losses and grief journeys. It was good to hear how they worked through it. It was also helpful to hear the boundaries and limits they set for themselves in order to remain in the field of hospice and palliative care and not go crazy.

It's funny. I didn't shed a tear during my four days at Berklee. I welled up a little when I found myself singing, "Who Am I" during an unexpected song swap one night. I welled up a little when telling the the main speaker about Joe. But I didn't cry. What I was learning was so absolutely captivating. I have so much respect for people who choose to work in Hospice and Palliative Care. They are really amazing people.

Music therapy is so much more than a lady with a guitar entertaining old folks in a nursing home. It was so wonderful to be reminded of that.

John Challis

Freedom teenager John Challis dies of cancer

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

By Mike White, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

As John Challis battled terminal cancer this spring, he had some goals.

He wanted to graduate from Freedom High School in Beaver County. Check. That happened in June.

He wanted to take one last cruise with his family. Check. That happened in mid-June.

He wanted to start a foundation to raise money for other teenagers with cancer. Check. That got off the ground in July.

But what John wanted most was to touch people through his actions and words. Check. That happened countless times.

John Challis, a teenager who became nationally known the past few months, died of liver and lung cancer Tuesday afternoon at his family's home in Freedom Township. He was only 18, but he passed away with a sense of accomplishment.

In late June, John did an interview from his home. Weak from the cancer that had spread throughout his body, John struggled to keep his eyes open. But his message was strong.

"Everybody is scared. It's not normal to not be scared," John said of his plight. "But I'm not scared as much now. I have letters and other things from people, telling me how I've helped so many people in numerous ways. That makes me feel good."

John had been battling cancer for more than two years, but his hit in a Freedom baseball game this spring led to a story about John in the Post-Gazette, which led to national attention.

People were inspired by John's story and his words. His family has two boxes of letters and cards from well-wishers and people who wrote to let him know they were inspired by his story. His family also has two binders filled with hundreds of e-mails from people who said John had impacted their lives.

One of the e-mails came from a man who said he gave John's Post-Gazette story to a friend -- and it helped turn him away from suicide.

"I just want to say thanks to the people for keeping me going," John said. "All them little cards and stuff I got, keeps me going day by day. To know I'm going downhill a little bit, it doesn't bother me because I've helped so many people. Since I've helped so many people, this is easier to handle."

"Courage + believe = life" became John's trademark. He wrote it inside his baseball hat and some of his Freedom teammates did the same. A baseball glove company sent John a black glove with "Courage + believe = life" embossed in the leather along with John's name.

"Life ain't about how many breaths you take. It's what you do with those breaths," was another one of John's memorable quotes.

One of John's most remarkable moments came in April. He had always loved sports, but because of the cancer, he couldn't participate as a junior or senior at Freedom, except for a few plays in the final football game of Freedom's 2007 season.

John became friends with Freedom baseball coach Steve Wetzel and Mr. Wetzel asked John to be part of the team. He hadn't played baseball in a few years, but John wanted a chance to hit one last time, and Mr. Wetzel granted the wish, pinch-hitting John in a game against Aliquippa.

It couldn't have been scripted any better. John lined a run-scoring single to right field -- on the first pitch. Although he had trouble running, John made it to first base, yelling "I did it. I did it."

That hit helped John's story take off. Over the next few months, John watched a Penguins playoff game with Mario Lemieux, was featured on ESPN television, addressed the Pirates before a game and spent an afternoon with Alex Rodriguez at the New York Yankee's penthouse in Manhattan. He was interviewed on national radio stations and on some stations in other cities. ESPN did a story on him for its SportsCenter show.

A teenager from a small Western Pennsylvania town, dying of cancer, had become a national celebrity.

"We would get things [in the mail] almost every day from people all over the country," said Scott Challis, John's father.

When John attended a Yankees game a few weeks ago, he had a press conference, surrounded by more than 20 reporters and photographers.

"People would sometimes call, too, just wanting to talk to him," his father said. "Some wanted to come meet him. It was amazing. I guess he touched so many people. We were in the airport at Newark [N.J.] and people were coming up to him because they recognized him."

The Pirates brought John to a game in June, gave him a uniform and let him address the team in the clubhouse. He told the players to not worry so much about their statistics and have fun. Mr. Wetzel listened as John told the Pirates to cherish the game -- and life.

Wetzel said, "He said to them, 'You never know what life might bring you. You might have a few sniffles and think it's not a big thing. Then you go to the doctor the next day and they tell you that you have a 10-pound tumor in your stomach.'

"Some of the Pirates got emotional."

Adam LaRoche took particular interest in John and stayed in touch with him after his visit. Recently, LaRoche called John an hour before a Pirates game, just to see how he was doing.

John also spent some time with the Tampa Bay Rays when the team was in town to play the Pirates.

"Their manager, Joe Maddon, called and said he saw the story on John on ESPN and he was just in his hotel room in tears," Mr. Wetzel said. "He said he just wanted to meet John."

But John's favorite moment in the past few months was the trip to New York for a Yankees game.

"Just because it was with my dad," John said. "It was a good time because we both got to experience it, and it felt like something not just for me, but something he enjoyed as well."

John faced his death with courage, dignity, a never-quit attitude and an awareness that was hard to fathom.

John's mother, Gina, tells the story of how a nurse started coming to the family home in June. Gina Challis said, "The first time she was here, John said, 'I know why you're here. You're here to make me comfortable in my last weeks. But it could be more than a few weeks, right?'"

Mr. Wetzel became extremely close with John over the past few years and had asked John to be in his September wedding.

"I really can't explain how his story took off, but the kid was just unbelievable," Mr. Wetzel said. "His attitude and messages I think changed how some people looked at their lives. He changed how I went about life.

"I feel like a piece of my heart is gone now. The thing I'll miss most is his smile. He had a smile that could light up a room."

When asked a few weeks ago how he would like to be remembered, John said, "I could see people having some beers and hopefully remembering how I always tried my best, no matter what I was doing. That's my message just for people to always do their best, no matter what they're doing or how stupid it might seem. And no matter what, there will always be a reward, no matter how small it is."

The web site for John's foundation is www.courageforlifefoundation.org. Donations can be made through the web site.

Besides his mother and father, John is survived by a younger sister, Lexie.

Information on funeral arrangements was not yet available.

Preface

Several months ago, I received a brochure in the mail. It was for a four day summer institute at Berklee College of Music in Boston. The topic of the institute was Hospice and Palliative Care Music Therapy. I promptly threw the brochure in a corner to collect dust. Didn't these people know what I had been through? How dare they send me such a thing.

A couple weeks after that, Kenny, a father at church who has been such a source of support through this whole journey sent me an email. Some hospice was looking for music therapists and he thought I may be interested. I stared at the screen for a minute and then said, "Uhm, no. I don't think so." (Sorry Kenny.)

Meanwhile, I was attending my six week support group, "Growing Through Grief." I was also conversing with other widows and widowers through this amazing thing called the internet. One huge lesson that I was learning was how good it made me feel to help others. It felt good to not be selfish all the time and to remember that others are hurting too. (But it's still important to be selfish sometimes.) I would get so excited when I would share how I got through various milestones and make someone smile. And I would get so excited when someone would tell me that something I said or did inspired them through one of their milestones.

Then one week I found myself spending endless nights wide awake trying to figure out what I wanted to do. Most of my life I have found myself making decisions that I thought would make others happy - while still trying to hold on to who I was. This year, I made the decision that I was going to take this opportunity I was given to re-discover myself and truly follow my heart. Shortly after Joe died, a door opened for me to return to music therapy. I was excited, but then realized I couldn't do it. I had too much work to do on me to be able to do any kind of therapy with others. So I started to dabble with other interests, running as far away from the field of therapy as I could.

I remember an early conversation I had with a friend about finding some type of support group. My response at the time was that I could see myself leading a support group more than I could see myself attending one...and yet, I knew that in my state at the time I wouldn't be an effective leader.

Back to my endless nights of no sleep... I was working on myself. I was re-discovering myself. I was attending a support group. And I was finding myself completely drawn to hospice and palliative care as well as grief and loss therapy. I actually started looking for grief counseling programs. Then it dawned on me. I'm a music therapist. I can do all of this using music therapy. Not only that, but I miss music therapy.

Coinciding with this revelation of mine was an email reminder to register for the Hospice and Palliative Care Music Therapy Institute. Eventually, I learned about the Centers of Music Therapy in End of Life Care and the trainings they offer, including another one in Grief and Loss Music Therapy.

To be continued...

On a lighter note...

I think that Joe knew I really needed to feel his presence today. As I was driving to meet with some friends this evening, Aerosmith's 'I don't want to miss a thing' came on the radio. After the song was over, I switched stations, and the song came on again...from the beginning. I used to sing this song to Joe all the time. Then he would sing it to me. It was kind of a joke between us, because on a good day, Joe was one of those people who would fall asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow. He couldn't stay awake "just to hear me breathing" if he tried. :)

On the way home, I was listening to Delilah. She is this sappy squishy radio personality who plays sappy squishy songs for people with sappy squishy stories. Sometimes the stories are really moving. Sometimes they aren't. :) It was kind of a guilty pleasure for Joe and I to listen to Delilah in the car when we were headed somewhere in the evenings. We would either say, "awwwww, that's so sweet." Or we would laugh because of the over-the-top sappy squishy-ness. Sometimes we would laugh because the caller would share something really personal and then say, "I would like you to choose a song." Then Delilah would proceed to play a song that seemed weird or inappropriate.

So...I'm listening to Delilah, and I thought, "If I were to call and dedicate a song to Joe, I would ask Delilah to play, 'I can only imagine' by Mercy Me." It is a song that we often sang together. It was one of the songs used in our wedding videos. It was sung at Joe's funeral. Wouldn't you know, with no introduction or story, the very next song that played on the radio was 'I can only Imagine.'



Thank you Joe.

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing
I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While you're far away dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
Cause I''d miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming
Wondering if its me you're seeing
Then I kiss your eyes
And thank God were together
I just want to stay with you in this moment forever
Forever and ever

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
Cause Id miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

I don't want to miss one smile
I don't want to miss one kiss
I just want to be with you
Right here with you, just like this
I just want to hold you close
Feel your heart so close to mine
And just stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
Cause Id miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
I don't want to miss a thing

I Can Only Imagine
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

[Chorus:]
Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

[Chorus]

I can only imagine [x2]

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship you

I can only imagine

"Temporary inconvenience for permanent improvement"

The sermon in church today was tough to swallow. We've been going through a series on God's road signs. Today the topic was the detour sign - the sign that symbolizes a temporary inconvenience for a permanent improvement. The question was, "Detour or Providence?"

de·tour Pronunciation: \ˈdē-ˌtu̇r also di-ˈtu̇r\

: a deviation from a direct course or the usual procedure; especially : a roundabout way temporarily replacing part of a route

prov·i·dence Pronunciation: \ˈprä-və-dən(t)s, -ˌden(t)s\

:often capitalized : divine guidance or care

capitalized : God conceived as the power sustaining and guiding human destiny

And so we learned about the detours of life and how God uses them to change us, shape us, and ultimately bring glory to His name. We heard about Joseph - the one who was on top of the world. He was so loved and so spoiled his father gave him this beautiful coat. But Joseph's brothers became jealous and sold him. Joseph finds himself in Egypt, far from his family and the familiarity of the life he knew. But God is there, and things are good. Then, BAM. Another detour. But God is still there, and things get even better.

We heard about Lisa Beamer, the widow of Tod Beamer who was aboard United Flight 93 on 9/11. Her life was good. She had her husband, two sons, and another child on the way. Then one day her life is suddenly changed forever. But God is there and helps her face this tragedy with grace.

So what did I do? I sat there and cried. I cried because I miss my Joe. I cried for Rupert, Brandon, Emily, and their families. I cried for Jai Pausch and her family. I cried for Lisa Beamer and all of the families affected by 9/11. I cried for all of my dear "widdas" and "widders." I cried because I don't like those big orange detour signs. They keep appearing and I just want them to go away. Temporary inconvenience? How about life-numbing awfulness?

Then I felt my heart crying out to God to help me understand and continue to press on with grace. "The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." (Romans 8:26)

The truth is, I've been learning and discovering that there can be as much beauty and power in death as there is in birth. It has been an interesting revelation that is leading me in an unexpected direction. And so, even though I will still find myself suddenly crying and cursing those orange detour signs...I do believe in Providence. I do believe that God has put me on a path leading towards permanent improvement. In fact, I was reminded of my very own words over a year ago, "if there is anything that people from the 'Burgh can handle, it is detours and potholes." Bring it on!

"Slowly I began to understand that the plans God has for us don’t just include “good” things, but the whole array of human events … I remember my mom saying that many people look for miracles — things that in their human minds “fix” a difficult situation. Many miracles, however, are not a change to the normal course of human events; they’re found in God’s ability and desire to sustain and nurture people through even the worst situations. Somewhere along the way, I stopped demanding that God fix the problems in my life and started to be thankful for his presence as I endured them."
— Lisa Beamer (Let's Roll!: Ordinary People, Extraordinary Courage)

Psalm 16

I love the Lord, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.

The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave came upon me;

I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
"O Lord, save me!"

The Lord is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
The Lord protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, he saved me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the Lord has been good to you.

For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul
from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the Lord
in the land of the living.
I believed; therefore, I said,
"I am greatly afflicted."
And in my dismay I said,
"All men are liars."

How can I repay the Lord
for all his goodness to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of
the Lord.
I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all his people.

Precious in the sight of the
Lord
is the death of his saints.
O Lord, truly I am your
servant;
I am your servant,
the son of your
maidservant;
you have freed me from my chains.

I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
and call on the name of the Lord.
I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all his people,
in the courts of the house of the Lord -
in your midst, O Jerusalem.

Praise the Lord.

Esther

Dear Esther went home to be with the Lord on Saturday, July 26 at 4am. Please keep her husband Rupert and their families in your thoughts and prayers.

"Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed - in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: 'Death has been swallowed up in victory.'" ~1 Corinthians 15:51-54

Prof whose 'last lecture' became a sensation dies

By RAMIT PLUSHNICK-MASTI, Associated Press Writer

PITTSBURGH - Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon University computer scientist whose "last lecture" about facing terminal cancer became an Internet sensation and a best-selling book, died Friday. He was 47.

Pausch died at his home in Chesapeake, Va., said Jeffrey Zaslow, a Wall Street Journal writer who co-wrote Pausch's book. Pausch and his family had moved there last fall to be closer to his wife's relatives.

Pausch was diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer in September 2006. His popular last lecture at Carnegie Mellon in September 2007 garnered international attention and was viewed by millions on the Internet.

In it, Pausch celebrated living the life he had always dreamed of instead of concentrating on impending death.

"The lecture was for my kids, but if others are finding value in it, that is wonderful," Pausch wrote on his Web site. "But rest assured; I'm hardly unique."

The book "The Last Lecture" leaped to the top of the nonfiction best-seller lists after its publication in April and remains there this week. The book deal was reported to be worth more than $6 million.

Pausch said he dictated the book to Zaslow by cell phone, and Zaslow recalled Friday that he was "strong and funny" during their collaboration.

"It was the most fun 53 days of my life because it was like a performance," Zaslow told The Associated Press. "It was like getting 53 extra lectures." He recalled that Pausch became emotional when they worked on the last chapter, though, because that to him was the "end of the lecture, the book, his life."

At Carnegie Mellon, Pausch was a professor of computer science, human-computer interaction and design, and was recognized as a pioneer of virtual reality research. On campus, he became known for his flamboyance and showmanship as a teacher and mentor.

The speech last fall was part of a series Carnegie Mellon called "The Last Lecture," where professors were asked to think about what matters to them most and give a hypothetical final talk. The name of the lecture series was changed to "Journeys" before Pausch spoke, something he joked about in his lecture.

"I thought, damn, I finally nailed the venue and they renamed it," he said.

He told the packed auditorium he fulfilled almost all his childhood dreams — being in zero gravity, writing an article in the World Book Encyclopedia and working with the Walt Disney Co.

The one that eluded him? Playing in the National Football League.

"If I don't seem as depressed or morose as I should be, sorry to disappoint you," Pausch said.

He then joked about his quirky hobby of winning stuffed animals at amusement parks — another of his childhood dreams — and how his mother introduced him to people to keep him humble: "This is my son. He's a doctor, but not the kind that helps people."

Pausch said he was embarrassed and flattered by the popularity of his message. Millions viewed the complete or abridged version of the lecture, titled "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams," online.

"I don't know how to not have fun," he said in the lecture. "I'm dying and I'm having fun. And I'm going to keep having fun every day I have left. Because there's no other way to play it."

Pausch lobbied Congress for more federal funding for pancreatic cancer research and appeared on "Oprah" and other TV shows. In what he called "a truly magical experience," he was even invited to appear as an extra in the upcoming "Star Trek" movie.

He had one line of dialogue, got to keep his costume and donated his $217.06 paycheck to charity.

Pausch blogged regularly about his medical treatment. On Feb. 15, exactly six months after he was told he had three to six months of healthy living left, Pausch posted a photo of himself to show he was "still alive & healthy."

In May, Pausch spoke at Carnegie Mellon's commencement ceremonies, telling graduates that what mattered was he could look back and say, "pretty much any time I got a chance to do something cool, I tried to grab for it, and that's where my solace comes from."

"We don't beat the reaper by living longer, we beat the reaper by living well and living fully," he said.

Born in 1960, Pausch received his bachelor's degree in computer science from Brown University and his Ph.D. from Carnegie Mellon.

He co-founded Carnegie Mellon's Entertainment Technology Center, a master's program for bringing artists and engineers together. The university named a footbridge in his honor. He also created an animation-based teaching program for high school and college students to have fun while learning computer programming.

In February, the Academy of Interactive Arts & Sciences in California announced the creation of the Dr. Randy Pausch Scholarship Fund for university students who pursue careers in game design, development and production.

He is survived by his wife, Jai, and their three children, Dylan, Logan and Chloe; his mother, Virginia Pausch of Columbia, Md.; and a sister, Tamara Mason of Lynchburg, Va.

In a statement Friday, his wife thanked those who sent messages of support and said her husband was proud that his lecture and book "inspired parents to revisit their priorities, particularly their relationships with their children."

___

Associated Press writer Ramesh Santanam contributed to this report.

___

On the Net:

Pausch's lecture: http://www.cmu.edu/randyslecture/

Cancer Sucks

You know how cancer sucks?
It totally does.

But there is something to be said about people who are able to blossom in the face of adversity. Or rather, how God enables people to blossom in the face of adversity. When I read about the journey of others dealing with cancer, my heart truly aches for them. Then...I'm struck by their beauty. Inspired by their walk. To me, it has brought new meaning to the bible verse, "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." (Matthew 26:41)

When an individual or a loved one is faced with something so harsh and so difficult like cancer, it becomes so easy to fall into the temptation of shutting out the world, giving up, and drowning yourself in self-pity. Your body is literally weak - either from the tolls of illness or the tolls of care-giving. The incredible thing is that God is right there providing the strength needed to handle the harsh new reality with beauty and grace. It's beautiful how faith can be bolstered in times of adversity - a time when it would be all too easy to dismiss God and decide that He doesn't care anymore. Even in times when I've witnessed people taking a break from God because life just seems too hard (I've taken those breaks too...), I still see God working. I still see a will to fight that is too powerful to be human. At least that's my view. We are weak, but He is strong.

Once again, I'm going to share with you some pretty inspiring people so that you can join me in storming the heavens with prayer. (And sending off good vibes, virtual hugs, and warm thoughts.)

Esther & Rupert - I met Rupert close to a dozen years ago. We were in the same fellowship at church. We lost touch after he graduated and didn't re-connect again until this week. It's difficult to re-connect with a person under such sad circumstances. At the same time, I feel so privileged to be able to witness a little part of the love shared between Esther, Rupert, & the Lord. They are a truly beautiful and awe-inspiring couple.

Erica - Erica has been recovering from her bone marrow transplant she had at the end of April. I love reading Erica's blog because she has such a gift of expression. She writes with this raw honesty that is so poetic, and even in her darkest days you can feel her undeniable spunk.

Ann & Chris - After doing so well for so long, Ann has relapsed and is on the road to a second transplant. Ann and Chris were just starting to makes all kinds of wonderful changes and plans - and then their lives were turned upside down again.

And now for some local heroes...

These guys have been all over the news and youtube because they have such a passion to live despite being told that they may not have much time.

Randy Pausch

Adam Frey

John Challis -

Seattle with my brother

My "baby" brother is nine and a half years younger than me. (Okay, more like nine and a quarter.) He just suddenly appeared one day, long after I had gotten used to all the perks of being an only child. I immediately learned that there are wonderful perks to having a little brother too. The day my brother was born, my dad picked me up from school. I didn't have to ride the bus! Not only that, but I was allowed to skip my violin lesson to go meet the newest member of the family. Those are the kinds of things that make brothers cool to nine year olds.

Since there was such a gap between the two of us, I became kind of a second mother to my little brother. I was always so proud of Victor. When he was a baby, I wore a necklace with his photo in it. When he got a little older, I'd show up at school wearing his yarn/paperclip/rubber band jewelry creations. In college I'd show off his drawings, letters, and photos. We were as close as siblings nine and a quarter years apart could be.

The thing is, conversations between a 20 year old and a 10 year old are pretty limited. Victor could tell me all the things that concern a fourth grader, and ask me for help on his homework. I could not really share about all that I was experiencing and ask him for advice on life and boys. So when we spent time together, we would talk about teachers we had in common, books we had both read, or make music together.

Fast forward a decade or so. My baby brother is now an adult. *gasp* I don't know how or when it happened, but at some point he grew up. Before I knew it, we started having normal sibling conversations. It has been such a blessing to me. I entered such a scary phase in life, and sometimes I really needed to talk to someone who knew about the yucky background stuff that doesn't get talked about. Poor Victor became that someone.

No worries. I'm still Big Boss Sister Karen. He's still Little Bratty Boogerboy Victor. I still tell him what to do. He still does everything he can to annoy me. But somehow, our siblingness has reached a new level, and that's cool.

So, after Victor graduated from college, the two of us flew off to Seattle to celebrate. Well, we claimed it was to celebrate. Really, it was to annoy our beloved Cousin Lilly (Lillian). We never took a trip together without our parents. It was so much fun, even if we wanted to strangle each other by the end of the week.

We did all kinds of wonderful touristy things you're supposed to do in Seattle. We were nervous in the beginning. When we left the 'burgh, temperatures were in the 90s. It was so hot and humid. Then we arrived in Seattle. As soon as I got off the plane, I sneezed five times in a row and kept saying, "oh I hate Seattle." When we got outside, it was rainy, windy, and temperatures were closer to the 40s. I got a lovely email from Joe's best friend Mike welcoming me to Seattle and informing me that it was the coldest first week of June since the late 1800s. Boy did Victor and I feel special to be experiencing such a monumental event...

The week ended up getting warmer, and we ended up falling in love with Seattle. Lilly was the perfect host. In between all of our tourist activities, Victor and I had the privilege of meeting up with several Pittsburgh "kids" who moved to Seattle. We also met some of our relatives for the first time, including our 8th great-aunt. They were really special times.


You can see some of our photos here.

I think I've reached my gush-about-brother quota for this decade. :)

Happy Birthday, Joe!

 

Today would have been Joe's 34th birthday. I wonder what birthdays are like up in heaven? The singing must be better. The cake must be better too. I bet they still have trick candles though. :)

~~~
Just to give you a glimpse at how wonderful my church is, I am sharing a little birthday video the PCC English congregation created for Joe last year. (Oh, and since I'm sharing this, I guess I should say, "What was I thinking? There is no way that the singing could be better up in heaven...") :)