"A Shrimp between Whales"

A Korean proverb describes their small peninsula as "a shrimp between whales," the whales being China and Japan. I've just read Richard Foster's pastoral letter to constituents of the RENOVARE movement. He warns that while we're so preoccupied with events in the Middle East, a tectonic shift of far greater significance is occurring further east. He sees Asia as the rising culture, following centuries of Western hegemony throughout the eras of colonialism, the industrial revolution, and the present age of information technology. The future, he believes, "belongs" to the Pacific Rim.

When he asks which religious expression will rise, he considers Buddhism, Islam, and Confucianism, and lands on Christianity as most hopeful after all. It, he says, is the only true "world religion," being the only faith that is truly worldwide in scope. (It is more accurate to speak of the others as "religions of the world," since they are strongly regional.) Anyway, he speaks of Korea as "the gateway to all of Asia" in terms of Christian mission strategy. He reflects on the Korean Christian revival of 100 years ago, and the explosive Christian growth in that tiny nation. He thinks Korea may soon surpass the USA in sending out Christian missionaries. I have just finished writing about the Korean revival and resulting mission movement for the SIM magazine, so this resonated with me. Foster says, "God has sovereignly chosen to use the peoples of Korea to teach the world-wide Christian family about how to develop the root system of prayer.... It's the intensity. It's the determined persistence. It's the instant power engagement. It's the longing love."

Actually, I think there's a good chance that China will outrun us all in Christian mission. Churches across that great nation share a vision to send 100,000 missionaries along the fabled "Silk Route" back to Jerusalem, the starting place of our faith. We're not in a contest. Let's pray that God will use the Christian faith of all Asians--severely tested and strengthened by suffering as it is--to awaken the rest of the world.

I appreciate so much your continuing prayers for me. I'm feeling quite well, and continuing to ask God to drop those tumor marker numbers.

Blessings,
Carol

Reality Check

"What may seem to us as 'accidents' are no such things in the universe governed by the providence of the true and living God. Prayers may be directed to this mighty and reigning King knowing that while he tenderly and compassionately hears the cries of his people, he 'sits' in the unique position of knowing perfectly what is best and possessing unthwarted power to bring to pass what he wills. The world is not spinning out of control; in fact, not one atom or despot or demon acts in any respect to hinder the fulfillment of what God has eternally ordained. To know this God, and better to be known by him, is to enter into the security and confidence of a lifetime of trust in his never-failing arms" (Dr. Bruce Ware).

I have nothing to add to the above. The truth of it quiets all my fears.

It seems strange now to be waiting a month between kemos, after all these weekly infusions. Someone wrote that she hopes that my tiredness and mild nausea indicate that the new drug is working on the cancer. I hope so too.

We're leaving Friday to go to Indiana, because our grandson James and his wife and son (our great-grandson!) are coming to see us there. They weren't able to join us in the Bahamas, so we're jumping at this opportunity to see them, as well as other members of the family who will be there.

I like this quote from G. Glien: "The older I grow, the more I listen to people who don't talk much." I think I'm getting that way. I also hope I'm thinking more and talking less myself.

Have a great day. By the way, I had to hide comments here for awhile, but they're back online, so if you have somethinig to add, please feel free to click on the word "Comments" below and speak your piece.

Love,
Carol

Purpose and Plan

I was so tired yesterday that I squeezed in two naps before noon. (I hate naps!) I guess the weekend was pretty full. By afternoon I was ready for some house cleaning and de-cluttering. In the early evening we went for a bicycle ride--my first in almost three years. (For more than a year before my cancer diagnosis, I was too breathless for biking.) To my shame, I was passed by a runner. We pedaled gently, enjoyed the greenery, and totaled just under six miles. Well, it's a start. It felt good.

This message came in a birthday card:

"When God made you, He did so with a purpose and a plan. He saw all your days before you lived one of them and placed over you the covering of His protective love.

"He has allowed nothing to come into your life that has not first been screened through that love. His hand has remained upon you to this very day. He calls you my name.

"You are His beloved child, the apple of His eye, the delight of His heart.

"Today you are in the exact place He wants you to be, and tomorrow He will be with you as He has always been--in goodness, in kindness, in faithfulness." (Roy Lessin)

That's our hope, for today and always.

Blessings,
Carol

Remembering, Gratefully

Today is Memorial Day in the United States. We are Free! Free to think our own thoughts and act on them (as long as they're legal). Free to move about as we wish. Free to be rewarded for our work. Free to worship Jesus Christ. Free to talk about him. Sixty-five years ago those freedoms were threatened by totalitarian regimes that were fighting to dominate us. Our military bought our freedom--many of them at the cost of their lives. I was eight years old when that war ended, and I remember the celebration as well as the continuing grief of the one family in our tiny town whose son didn't return. There were two men who came back from battles so gruesome that their minds never quite recovered.

For all who served with honor to preserve our freedom, and for all who serve now, I am grateful.

On a lighter note, I'm also grateful to Chuck for organizing such a wonderful celebration over the weekend. And for those who set aside time to come and rejoice with us. Several people drove all day to get here; double thanks to them! Yesterday after church we had a simple lunch in our home for four couples still here from out of town. What special friends. Thanks, also, for all the encouraging cards and email messages.

I got pretty tired, and we had to cancel an excursion we'd promised to Michigan friends for Sunday afternoon. I'm glad today is a holiday.

Love to you all,
Carol

A Feast of Friends

My artistic friend in Michigan continues to send handmade creations each week. This one came inside a card that said, "These 70 lights are a reminder of His love. He is . . . " Each flame can be pulled up (see lower left) to reveal a biblical name for Jesus. I'll list a few:

The Physician, Luke 4:23
A gift of God, John 4:10
My Helper, Hebrews 13:6
The Lamb of God, John 1:29
The Deliverer, Romans 11:26
The Mediator, 1 Timothy 2:5
The Truth, John 14:6
My Fortress, Psalm 18:2
The Advocate, 1 John 2:1
Our Intercessor, Hebrews 7:21

I believe it must have taken days to design and construct this marvel. But it has taken most of her life to learn to know Jesus in all his multi-faceted splendor. What a gift!

Yesterday's party was splendid. Dear friends from the neighborhood, SIM, church, and Michigan--all came to help us celebrate God's faithfulness, not only through 70 years of life but also especially through this past 18-month journey with cancer. Each one who came gave the gift of their presence and their time. We are blessed.

I'm still feeling well. This morning I took the 4th and final dose of kemo for this month, praying that God will send it directly to the cancer cells and destroy them.

Love,
Carol

My Way, My Life, My Light

Yesterday I felt really well. Thanks for praying. It would be reasonable for the kemo effects to get worse with each new dose, but that didn't happen. I am grateful. Tomorrow's is the last dose for this month.

We're looking forward to seeing dear friends this afternoon at our celebration. (If you live in the area and weren't sure you were included in the invitation, you are! It's 1:00 - 5:00 at SIM on Choate Circle. We want to thank you all for your prayers and support during this 18-month journey with cancer.) Friends are so precious! Neighbors dropped in last evening with a card that says, "A friend knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you forget the words." I would like to be the kind of friend who knows the song in your heart.

One of our friends urgently needs prayer. Her back hurts unmercifully, despite an ongoing regimen of medical treatments. She has developed asthma that doesn't respond well to her array of medications. Now the doctor says she has sinusitis and needs surgery. She's brave and uncomplaining, but oh, she needs God's healing touch.

I found a poem written almost 400 years ago that helps me talk to God about how important He is to me. It's so dangerous to feel self-reliant that I think it would be wise to pray this prayer daily. I changed most of the "thees" but left one for the sake of rhyme.

My Way, My Life, My Light

Why do You shade Your lovely face? O why
Does that eclipsing hand so long deny
The sunshine of Your soul-enlivening eye?

Without that Light, what light remains in me?
You are my Life, My Way, my Light; in Thee
I live, I move, and by Your beams I see.

You are my Life; if You but turn away,
My life’s a thousand deaths; You are my Way;
Without You, Lord, I travel not, but stray.

My Light You are; without Your glorious sight,
My eyes are darkened with perpetual night.
My God, You are my Way, my Life, my Light.

You are my Way; I wander if You fly;
You are my Light; if hid, how blind am I!
You are my Life; if You withdraw, I die.

My eyes are blind and dark; I cannot see;
To whom, or whither, should my darkness flee,
But to the Light? And who’s that Light but Thee?

My path is lost; my wandering steps do stray;
I cannot safely go, nor safely stay;
Whom should I seek but You, my Path, my Way?

You are the pilgrim’s Path, the blind man’s Eye;
The dead man’s Life; on You my hopes rely;
If you remove, I err, I grope, I die.

Disclose Your sun-beams; close Your wings, and stay;
See, see how I am blind, and dead, and stray,
O You, Who are my Light, my Life, my Way.

By Francis Quarles (1592-1644)

Have a great weekend.

Love,
Carol

Amazing!

Surprise! The new kemo isn't free of side effects after all. I found myself swallowing hard all day due to mild nausea, and by late afternoon I was wiped out. These are no big deal; I'm just hoping to be alert for the party Saturday afternoon.

My neighbor treated me to a most amazing sight. She and her sons have been babysitting our swallowtail larvae, and after several attempts she videotaped the final stage of the formation of a chrysalis. (The striped green caterpillar attaches itself to a stick with a fine thread and then it hangs there for several days, immobile and still green. Suddenly, in a 3-minute process of unbelievable effort, its papery brown shell splits its translucent skin and writhes itself free--dropping the spent skin in a tiny crumpled ball at the bottom of the stick.) We sat together and watched the miracle and worshiped the Creator. I have a copy of the short DVD, and if one of my grandsons will coach me to load it on you-tube, I'll let you know how to access it.

Psalm 145 (New Living Translation) is giving me words for worship these days. Please enjoy a few of them with me here:

Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise!
His greatness is beyond discovery!
Let each generation tell its children
of your mighty acts.
I will meditate on your majestic, glorious splendor
and your wonderful miracles.
Your awe-inspiring deeds will be on every tongue;
I will proclaim your greatness.
Everyone will share the story of your wonderful goodness;
they will sing with joy of your righteousness.
The Lord is kind and merciful,
slow to get angry, full of unfailing love.
. . . . .
The Lord is close to all who call on him,
yes, to all who call on him sincerely. (verses 3-8, 18)

I'll close with this invitation from verses 10-12:
... your faithful followers will bless you.
They will talk together about the glory of your kingdom,
they will celebrate examples of your power.
They will tell about your mighty deeds,
and about the majesty and glory of your reign.

Those would be great topics for conversation today! (The last few lines, by the way, express the goals of our work in the SIM international communication department. It's a privilege!)

Blessings,
Carol

Say nothing, and listen

Swallowing seven tiny pills is certainly easier than spending several hours hooked up to an I-V infusion. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this Alkelan would turn out to be the drug God would use to knock down my cancer? We continue to pray. (Logic suggests that if it were recognized as effective, it would have been tried sooner.)

I wrote about remembering yesterday. Memory is essential to our lives and achievements. It’s also essential to our spirituality. From Psalms 77 and 78 come these reminders: “Remember the deeds of the Lord…remember (His) wonders of old…muse on (them)…teach them…do not forget…”

This week I’ve been blessed by several birthday cards. (Maybe from friends who “didn’t remember” the no-cards order?) They’re so beautiful, and I wish I could write a thank you note to everyone. One of them, from a Greek friend who serves on SIM’s pastor-to-missionaries staff, says this:

“Next time a sunrise steals your breath or a meadow of flowers leaves you speechless, remain that way. Say nothing and listen as heaven whispers, ‘Do you like it? I did it just for you.’ (Max Lucado). Take a good look at God’s wonders—they’ll take your breath away” (Psalm 66:5, The Message).

I've been trying for two hours to get on the internet. Sorry this is late for you early risers.

Blessings,
Carol

Treatment Decision

Dr. Boyd feels it's time to move on to a new treatment, since apparently the drug I've been taking by I-V these past few months is no longer effective. I'm now going to be taking an oral chemo drug, beginning Thursday morning. It's an old drug. God, of course, can heal with old or new drugs--or totally apart from drugs. I consider every day of feeling well to be a gift of healing.

On my way to the drugstore, I listened to a program about cancer on "Talk of the Nation" on public radio. A nurse said, in effect, "Cancer patients for the most part have only themselves to blame, since it's well known that 85% of cancer is caused by avoidable behavior." As you can understand, that was not encouraging! I checked the list of risk factors for ovarian cancer again, and the only one that applies to me is my age--which I really don't want to avoid!

So we'll move on to the new treatment and to the future with hope and gratitude for every breath and every wonderful day.

CA 125 report

The new number is 116.45. (A month ago it was 89.15.) Needless to say, we're disappointed--but not dismayed. God is so completely in charge, and is fully reliable. He is also Love.

We'll be grateful for your prayers as we consult with the oncologist this afternoon.

Thanks so much.
Carol

Remembering

It was good to be away, and it's good to be back. Yesterday's blood draw went smoothly, and we should have the result in a few hours. I'll post the report here as soon as I get it. Thanks to all who keep praying for the CA 125 numbers to drop. I appreciate you so much.

Even though my parents moved to Cat Island after all of us children were grown, returning there was a retrospective journey for all of us. We remember them, and we honor them for their faithful obedience to God. Sure, like us they had flaws and made mistakes, but they were driven by desire to spread the knowledge of God and to relieve human suffering--and they did a lot! It is good to remember.

God's Word often exhorts us to remember. The Hebrew words translated memory or remember all relate to the root verb zakar. It always means more than simply holding a fact about the past in mind. It also includes reflecting on it, and acting in a way that's appropriate to the memory. In other words, biblical remembering is to think, to reflect, and to act. You know, most of us keep too busy for reflection. That's too bad.

I received an amazing phone call last evening. A friend from college wanted to thank me for helping her become a follower of Jesus. I said, "I don't think I was the one," and she interrupted to insist, "Yes, it was you." I do remember wanting to help her, studying the Bible with her a few times, and doing some fun things together as students. But after graduation and marriage she moved away, I got busy with motherhood and everything else, and we became "Christmas card friends." Yet here she is, a believer, and marking the beginning of her Christian life to the very little I was able to do. (I've always felt that I let her and many other people down.) It makes me see that when God has a plan for someone's life, He will accomplish it, and it takes very little outside input sometimes. I want to encourage you, my Christian friends, to keep on "letting your light shine," trusting God to touch other people's lives through you.

Yesterday on my lunch hour I uploaded a few photos from our week on the island. (My connection at work is far better than at home.) If you're interested, you may scroll on down.

Love,
Carol

Cat Island Photo Album

I'm putting up a few photos just in case some of you are interested.

Slager family at the gateway to the hermitage:

Here's one end of our breakfast table:

No explanation needed:

Just to complete our collection of "three-girls-walking-on-beach" photos over the years:

With Lisa; house in background:

McGrath family at the hermitage:

View of hermitage from the trail below:

Snorkelers and kayaker. I took this from the deck, and inadvertently included the edge of the railing.

Snorkeler views:

That's all, folks.

Wind of God

Here's a sunset view of the house we lived in on Cat Island. The huge deck, facing the ocean on 3 sides, was its most delightful feature. We spent hours at the rail, watching sea life in the coral heads below, and watching family members snorkeling and kayaking all around the area.

A week ago today we experienced an amazing demonstration of power. The wind blew in, and the grandchildren enjoyed it on the deck of our island home. Gavin, on the right, jumped up and the wind was strong enough to move him!

It was never dangerous, and it added a new dimension to our understanding of life near the sea. It reminded me of one stanza of a hymn that I like a lot. (Wind is one of the many biblical metaphors for God.)

O Wind of God, come bend us, break us
till humbly we confess our need;
Then, in Your tenderness remake us,
Revive, restore -- for this we plead.

Yesterday included long hours of travel for some members of the family, but I'm thankful to say that just after midnight the last family made it home. God is wonderfully faithful.

My sister and her husband in Nassau provided gracious hospitality and airport transportation for us both at the beginning and end of our 9-day adventure. How can we ever thank them?

Good news: our local friend with lung cancer (I've called him my cancer buddy) learned yesterday that he's in remission. Thank God! Thanks to all who prayed for him.

Blessings,
Carol

Back in Nassau

This morning, a day before my 70th birthday, I snorkeled for the first time. It's a wonderful view of colorful fish from under the water, at their level. I needed a lot of help from daughter Sue, but nevertheless it felt like an achievement.

Now we're back in Nassau, and will return to our various homes on Monday. I'll have time for a proper blog Monday morning. I'm a little tired this evening. But feeling great.

It's been a fabulous week. I can't wait to share a couple of photos.

Blessings,
Carol

Monday's posting

Sorry, blogger doesn't seem to be working as I had hoped. If you are looking for Monday's posting, just scroll down to Friday and look for Famous Son of Cat Island. Perhaps all of this week's postings will be found there, one day at a time.

safe arrival

We had a safe flight and landed at Cat Island, which is beautiful beyond our expectations. Chuck and Keith are both better.

Full House

On five different flights, from north, south, east, and west of the U.S., we converged on Nassau yesterday. My dear sister and her husband met all the flights and hosted us in their home and a nearby hotel. Today we'll complete our journey over to Cat Island. Already the building of good memories has begun.

Karin's husband Keith arrived with a serious case of the flu, and this morning Chuck isn't feeling well. We're praying that God will heal both of them soon, and protect the rest of us.

On the plane yesterday, I read more of Sidney Poitier's autobiography. He moved to Florida in the 1940s, and suffered the indignities of the "Jim Crow" society. Even after he moved to New York, and then to California, racism was a constant presence. Of course, he got angry. But he writes that he always came to the point where forgiveness was his best option. Just now I'm in process of reading a couple of other books on the same theme. Interesting! True, too.

Have a blessed Sunday.

Carol

Let Them Praise the Lord

I found a couple more swallowtail larvae to add to the “nursery” my neighbor boys are tending. I hope we can see more butterflies around here this summer. And we have four tiny blue eggs in the bluebird house. They should be ready to hatch soon after we return from our trip. It’s fun to be surrounded by all this life!

Our Nassau friend with lung cancer will finish his treatments in Texas next Friday, and they plan to return to Nassau on Saturday; we hope to get together during the few hours our paths cross on that island before we return to Charlotte. And we keep praying for miraculously shrinking tumors.

I’m thinking about these beautiful words from Psalm 107: “’Lord, help!’ they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He spoke, and they were healed—snatched from the door of death. Let them praise the Lord for his great love, and for all his wonderful deeds to them. Let them offer sacrifices of thanksgiving and sing joyfully about his glorious acts.” Yesterday morning a colleague reminded us at our prayer chapel of the old song, “Count your blessings.” She asked us to name some current blessings, and I said, sincerely, that every day of life is a blessing. It truly is “one of His wonderful deeds” to us. I am thankful and joyful.

We’ll leave for the airport in a couple of hours. I’ll most likely have a chance to post a message from Nassau before we fly from there to Cat Island on Sunday afternoon. After that, the messages that pop up here will be those that I already pre-loaded, thanks to Blogger technology. I think you’ll like the stories. If any health issues arise, someone will post the information here.

The amazing hummingbird photo below was posted last evening, because it seems like the internet moves more easily in the evening than in the morning. I hope you enjoy it.

Blessings,
Carol

Hummingbirds

No, this isn't my hand, nor is it in our yard. A friend sent this to us. It's just so spectacular I wanted to share it with you. We do have hummers like these in our yard, and we're thrilled to watch them at our feeders. When they fly nearby, their wings create a deep rumble.

Cat Island's Most Famous Tourist Site

In the 1930s, a restless priest, wavering between the Anglican and Catholic priesthood, moved to Cat Island and built a one-man hermitage on Mt. Alvernia, the highest point between Florida and West Africa. (It’s only 153 feet in elevation, if I remember correctly.) From down below, it looks like a large institution—so flawless are the proportions. Over the years we walked up to see it several times, past the stations of the cross, into the tiny chapel, pausing at the narrow stone bed, admiring the prayer tower, and stooping to peer into his burial cave. The entire hilltop is a lovely, serene place. I’m sure when we get back home we’ll have a new photo to show of this amazing bit of architecture.

 

Maybe my title overstates the case. I think the ocean and beaches are fabulous too. And the blue holes, mysterious inland waterholes that used to be called “mermaid holes.” Lots of folklore on this island. Some scholars believe it’s the actual site of Columbus’ first landfall. It was, tragically, farmed for fine cotton by wealthy landowners and African slaves for at least a century. As my mom was leaving, it was becoming a hot spot for illegal drug transport.

 

Meanwhile, thanks for sticking with us through this week, and for your love and prayers. I hope to be back online tomorrow.

 

Last journal entry

More from Cat Island

“After I returned from visiting Grandpa (his body well but his mind already in heaven), Alice and I worked together for two years; she was ‘one in a million.’ Then a young man came to visit her in the summer of 1978; oh my,  a number of interesting stories could be told of that summer. They were married, and moved to the mission house and served on the island for several years.”

 

(Note: That’s the end of the journal. My father died in May 1977, and my mother continued her school ministry on the island, with a number of different helpers, until her severe arthritis forced her to leave in 1985. She lived in Nassau a short while, then moved to a mission school on the Mexico-Texas border where she taught until 1995, visiting her kids up north every summer. Finally she “retired” in Wisconsin, where she died in 2003, two+ months before her 90^th birthday.)

 

A Series of Partners

More from my mother’s Cat Island journal:

 

“During my summer visit up north in 1975, Carol took me to see Jeanette, a retired missionary from China. She offered to go to Cat Island with me for a month in the fall. I had thought I wouldn’t be able to return, but with this offer I felt the Lord’s blessing. People loved her sweet ways and her talking about China. Before she left, I got a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Thorne, offering to come for the next month. I took Jeanette to the airport at Arthur’s Town, and after the plane left I discovered my car wouldn’t start. There I was—alone on the furthest spot on the island with a stalled car. No one seemed willing to help; everyone was leaving the airport. One young man started the car with a screw driver, and I didn’t turn off the motor until I got home! What a desolate, lonely feeling that rainy evening! And then a car drove into the yard. It was the Thornes, who had come several days early. The Lord knew His lonely child needed somebody. They must have liked it there, because they stayed two months. Before they left, a young family wrote that they would come for the spring semester. And then it was summer 1976, and again I traveled north to see my family.

 

“I visited some childhood friends, and found in their home a young woman, Alice, who had quit her job believing God was leading her to do something new. It’s a long story, but in the end, she went back to Cat Island with me in the fall. I can’t imagine her feelings to be suddenly plunged into such a primitive life. She adapted well.

 

“Usually we spent two weeks cleaning the house and getting settled before arranging classes with the teachers. But this time we visited the schools right away. Good thing, because after only two weeks I got word that Grandpa was very sick. To my surprise, Alice offered to stay alone and continue the classes. She had learned how to do it in those few days.”

 

More stories tomorrow.

 

Bends in the Trail

More from Cat Island

“In the summer of 1971, the Beverlys suddenly announced that they were moving back to the States. We were shocked, and wondered whether we should even try to live on the island without them. We were surprised that we were able to manage alone. Without them, Grandpa and I had more responsibility in the church, along with our weekday school classes. Grandpa gradually deteriorated mentally, and often did not know who I was. But even the last Sunday that we were there in 1974, he taught the adult Bible class and the people enjoyed his teaching. The spiritual part of a person seems to continue even after other faculties are gone.

 

“By summer 1974 I knew we could continue no longer. Our son was medical director of a nursing home, and secured a room there for Grandpa. By then he didn’t know me at all, and when good friends retired and offered to go to Cat Island with me for the coming school year, we decided to do that. We had many good times together. I remember one Sunday we had 19 children and young people in our little house. One group played Chinese checkers in the middle of the floor. Some girls brought a package of pudding mix and wanted to learn how to prepare it. We had to step around little kids to cook. Others were reading and some playing games—a busy, noisy, happy crowd.”

 

More stories tomorrow.

 

A Full Schedule

More from my mom’s Cat Island journal:

“The promise of a Bible class at Orange Creek gave us courage to stop next at Arthurs Town, where we also received permission to teach the Bible in the school. Each school had more than 100 students. We sang happy songs, taught a Bible story using flannelgraph, which they had never seen so were intrigued. We taught a Bible verse with each lesson, and reviewed them for weeks. The children were eager to recite them and receive a gold star on their chart. Some of the teachers stayed in the room to enjoy the Bible class. Eventually we were holding Bible classes in all 10 schools on the island each week, reaching 800 children. Sometimes we held Bible camps in the summer as well.

 

“During Christmas week 1970-1971, we held Girls’ Camp at our house. Mrs. Beverly and two daughters helped; we taught typing, sewing, Bible, and Girl Talk. The girl who helped me in the kitchen became the chief baker in her large family. One girl stayed late each day to finish sewing her dress, then left on the mail boat for Nassau to get married.

 

“After camp was over, another girl, Amelia, came back to talk about her relationship with the Lord. She cried and said it was so hard; she was engaged to a road worker, and knew she’d have to break the relationship if she gave her life to Christ. She did, and I’m sure she’s glad she did. She taught school in our settlement, became a good helper in the Lord’s work, and later married a man who had been in our classes in another settlement for many years. They built a fine home along the ocean, nicer than most people have. She is still teaching school, incorporating Bible teaching. They have several children. As soon as her maternity leave is over, she carries the little one to school, where he sleeps on a blanket on the floor. If he cries, one of the students holds him and the mother goes on teaching.”

 

More stories tomorrow.

 

My Parents Move to Cat Island

Here, in my mother’s words, is the story of our family’s connection with Cat Island. I’ve shortened it for this purpose, and will delay-post one part per day until our expected return to internet access.

 

Cat Island Years, by Florence Eckstrom

“We met Roy and Ruth Beverly at Bibletown in Boca Raton, Florida, before they moved to Cat Island in 1960. At that time, we were in business in Boca, and were ministering to farm migrant workers on weekends. We met several men from Cat Island, and they encouraged us to come there to teach Bible classes like those we were holding in the migrant camps.  So I took teams over for summer Bible School three years, and then Grandpa and I decided to move there. He had never been there, so he went like Abraham—not knowing what to expect. What faith! We sold our business in 1967, and moved to Cat Island.

 

“Grandpa ordered building materials from Nassau. While he was building our house I taught the Beverly children. We lived in a little native house. Our car had not arrived, so Grandpa had a long, tiresome walk after working hard each day. When he had the walls framed up, the Beverlys drove over to hold the walls in place while he nailed them together. Then Dan came out for a few days and helped get the roof on. Finally our cute little house was finished, our furniture arrived, and we were ready to serve. What did the Lord have in mind for us? We decided to drive to the north end of the island, to get the lay of the land. We noticed each settlement had a school. Next to each school was a teacher’s cottage. Our first stop was at Orange Creek, where school had dismissed for the day. We met the teachers, Mr. and Mrs. O. W. Brown.  They offered the use of one room for a Bible class. In time Mrs. Brown became a dear friend, thinking of me as a mother she’d never had.”

 

Note from Carol: I should describe the “cute little house” she refers to. It was tiny; the main floor held a living room, kitchen, and small bedroom. The loft upstairs was only about 4 feet tall in the center, and held four cots and space for storage under the eaves. In the next few days you’ll discover how that small house held so much blessing for so many people.

 

Famous Son of Cat Island

Sidney Poitier, the well known actor, hails from Cat Island. His description of his childhood gives an accurate glimpse of life there. My parents moved there at least 20 years after Sidney had left, but little had changed. Here are a few paragraphs from his book, The Measure of a Man, pages 2-3.

 

“I’m on the porch of our little house on Cat Island in the Bahamas. It’s the end of the day and evening is coming on, turning the sky and the sea to the west of us a bright burnt orange, and the sky and sea to the east of us a cool blue that deepens to purples and then to black. In the gathering darkness, in the coolness of our porch, my mother and father sit and fan the smoke from green palm leaves they’re burning to shoo away the mosquitoes and the sand flies. And as she did so often when I was small, my sister Teddy would take me in her arms to rock me to sleep. While she’s rocking me in her arms, she too is fanning the smoke that comes from the big pot of green leaves being burned, and she fans the smoke around me as I try to go to sleep in her arms.

 

“That’s the way the evenings always were on Cat Island. In the simplicity of that setting I always knew how I was going to get through the day and how Mom and Dad were going to get through the day and how, at the end of it, we were all going to sit on this porch, fanning the smoke of the burning green leaves.

 

“On that tiny spit of land they call Cat Island, life was indeed very simple, and decidedly pre-industrial. Our cultural “authenticity” extended to having neither plumbing nor electricity, and we didn’t have much in the way of schooling or jobs, either. In a word, we were poor, but poverty there was very different from poverty in a modern place characterized by concrete. It’s not romanticizing the past to state that poverty on Cat Island didn’t preclude gorgeous beaches and a climate like heaven, cocoa plum trees and sea grapes and cassavas growing in the forest, and bananas growing wild.”

 

The Poitier family moved to Nassau when he was about 10, and he left for Florida at about 15. I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the book.

 

Tomorrow I’ll begin quoting from my mother’s journal about their time on the island. I’m actually pre-posting these messages on May 11, so please don’t be alarmed if something goes wrong. They should pop up one each day until we get back to internet access.

Asking for Help

My journey through the chronological Bible has brought me to a collection of David's psalms. They're more than 3,000 years old, but more relevant than anything being written today! Here is part of Psalm 25 (New Living Translation):

Show me the path where I should walk, O Lord;
Point out the right road for me to follow.
Lead me by your truth and teach me,
for you are the God who saves me.
All day long I put my hope in you.

Remember, O Lord, your unfailing love and compassion,
which you have shown from long ages past.
Forgive the rebellious sins of my youth;
Look instead through the eyes of your unfailing love,
for you are merciful, O Lord.

The Lord is good and does what is right;
He shows the proper path to those who go astray.
He leads the humble in what is right,
teaching them his way.
The Lord leads with unfailing love and faithfulness
all those who keep his covenant and obey his decrees.
. . .
Friendship with the Lord is reserved for those who fear him.
With them he shares the secrets of his covenant.

We're in a flurry of organizing and packing now. Tomorrow morning we fly to the Bahamas. I found five little swallowtail larvae on my parsley bush, and my neighbor friends have agreed to tend them. These are the same boys who exclaim, "Look, Mom, there's a UPS (Urgent Prayer Support) truck--we need to pray for Miss Carol." I appreciate them so much!

Another neighbor's daughter is graduating Saturday with her B.S. degree--the first in both her extended family and their church to do so. We stopped in with our gift and to give our regrets at missing the party. What celebration there! We have huge respect for this wonderful family.

I feel well again this morning, and need to think well too, in order to leave everything in order at work for the week I'll be away.

Blessings,
Carol

Life on Hold

A couple of days ago our lone swallowtail (butterfly) larva nibbled her last bite of parsley and then attached herself to the woody twig I'd placed in her glass home. This morning she is a true chrysalis, brown and papery. About the time we return from Cat Island, she'll be bursting her graveclothes and emerging in splendor. I'll let her go in the garden, and I hope she'll deposit some eggs on our waiting parsley plants before soaring off to seek adventure. When the eggs hatch into rice-sized larva, I hope I find them before the birds do, so we can begin the process again. Life ... apparent death ... life ... .

On a far more serious note, someone in SIM received a clandestine phone call from a Christian in an unnamed country saying that persecution and killings are increasing there. On Sunday an entire congregation was arrested and jailed in appalling conditions. They call their nation "the old country" rather than naming it, because any global attention to their situation brings on even more severe suffering. Literally, all we can do is pray! And we do. We have dear personal friends, both in Michigan and Carolina, who came from that country, and that brings the tragedy even closer to our hearts.

Thanks to God's goodness and your prayers, I felt full of life yesterday, and today is beginning well too. There's lots to do before we fly out Saturday morning. I'll most likely be able to post a blog on Sunday before we leave Nassau, but almost certainly not from Monday through Sunday, May 14-20. So here's the deal: I'll pre-load a delayed posting for each day before we leave here for those of you who like to maintain the habit of checking daily. (Oh! thank you SO much!) And I promise you that if my health deteriorates during that week, we'll get a message to someone in the States who can put fresh news on the site. Okay?

This morning I'm meeting with the magazine photo editor to ensure that things are coming together well. I found a digital image that appears perfect for the cover, but it wasn't saved at high enough resolution. The dear missionary photographer, who is dealing with his own serious physical struggles just now, has offered to go through his boxes of slides (thousands of them!) to find the original. He's our Hero of the Week! I pray he'll find it, and even more I pray for his healing.

Blessings,

Carol

Legacy

My friend sent me a beautiful CD titled “Woven & Spun,” composed and sung by Nichole Nordeman. She especially wanted me to hear and remember the song “Legacy.” It’s a prayer I could honestly pray every day, and I’ll write it here:

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough?
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

Oh yes! That’s what I want.

A later track, “I am,” provides the album’s title. I want to share part of that one too:

When life had begun, I was woven and spun
You let the angels dance round the throne
And who can say when but they’ll dance again
When I am free and finally headed home
I will be weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer
Comforter, Healer, my Redeemer
Lord and King, Beginning and the End.

Both songs were copyright in 2002 by Ariose Music, written by Nichole Nordeman.

And finally I add here a quote by Rainer Maria Rilke that’s printed on the album jacket (I don’t think they call them “jackets” any more, but my brain can’t find a better word):

“She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth – it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall and clears it for a different celebration where the one guest is You.”

I’m sure I’ll spend the rest of my life, however long it is, “weaving the ill-matched threads of my life, gratefully, into a single cloth.” Let us celebrate!

Kemo went very well yesterday; we had fun chatting with nearby patients, and we’re praying that the CA 125 will drop again. (The next test is May 22, right after we return from the Bahamas.) This evening I want to start packing for the trip. We're restricted to 40 pounds on the island flight, and we need to bring along some food because of the limitations of the local store. But, as I joke, how much do a toothbrush and a bikini weigh? (Ha! As if I'd be caught in a bikini!) Daughter Karin is preparing flat-out for her final at law school Friday morning. Only after that can she begin packing. Grandson Justin is writing four finals this week. We're praying for both of them.

Love,
Carol

A Sister Is Hurting

I need to be brief. We have a house guest and I want to have breakfast ready before she needs to leave. (By the way, Blogger forgot to adjust for daylight time; that's why it looks like I'm up earlier than I really am.)

Chuck and I are members of a network of Christian senior adults who open their homes for overnight stays. We have stayed with others only three or four times, but we've had the privilege of hosting many delightful people from all over the U.S. Last night's guest really grabbed my heart. She's on her way to her daughter's home in order to care for five (!) young children while her daughter does an intensive college course. Eighteen months ago, a toddler in the family slipped out the back door, fell in the swimming pool, and drowned. Less than a year later, another baby joined the family. But the tragedy overwhelmed the already fragile marriage, and this woman's daughter and son-in-law are now separated and heading for divorce. Our guest is a very lovely person, but she's hurting. She's heading for a very difficult job, too, although she's excited about being with her grandchildren. Would you join me in offering up a prayer for her?

The surgeon was very encouraging yesterday; everything looks good, he said. He also concurs that the oncologist is making the right decisions regarding chemotherapy. God has used that, he reminded us, to keep me alive. (He's sure I'd have died by last August without treatment.) I'm not only alive, but feeling well. I am so blessed!

Love, and thanks,
Carol

Not Laughing

Yesterday we heard a comedian. He's talented, but he told a joke that made his wife look like an idiot. Chuck and I didn't laugh. Then he went on to paint all women with the same brush. We're still not laughing. And there was more; he reminded me of all the bullies I've ever known. We all need to laugh, and I really appreciate humor, but not at the expense of people who don't have the microphone and can't defend themselves. I do remember that my word for this year is "kindness," and I need to be kind to this guy and forgive him for his obvious lack of respect. But, hey, let's be kind to people, even when we're trying to be funny, okay? There--I said it, and now I'll smile again. A friend in Sunday school gave me a CD of a humorist I like; I'll listen to it and laugh as I drive today.

We took our Michigan friends along to Watershed church for the morning service. (This is the church Jeremy introduced us to.) The pastors there are so eager to reach the urban population with the love of God. Part of that, obviously, is to intentionally include people of all ethnicities. They featured a panel of people of color who worship at Watershed, and they revealed some alarming realities about life for them here. One man said that when he makes purchases, white salepersons never place change in his hand; they drop it in, or even drop it on the counter. Such a small thing, but such a big message. Another--a successful consultant--went to give a "high five" to a colleague in celebration of a shared success, and she said, "Hey, did you wash your hands?" And here, in my ignorance, I've been thinking and saying that race relations are sweeter here in Charlotte than up north, because they worked harder at it back in the 60s. Well, I've been sobered.

Chuck installed a new frog sculpture on our bedroom table. He's very cute, and is holding up a lantern. It reminds me to seek the true light for my path, as well as to Fully Rely On God.

This afternoon I'll have my regular check-up with my surgeon. He says he'll probably be able to tell if tumors start to grow again. I pray there aren't any. Then tomorrow I'll get kemo. Whether or not the taxol becomes effective again, we know God is able to drive down the cancer, and that's what we ask for.

Our Nassau friend with lung cancer has been coughing up blood. The oncologist says it's the result of the radiation. He has completed his chemo regimen, and has two weeks of radiation to go. We pray it will shrink the tumors and not cause further damage.

Blessings,
Carol

Thanks for Thorns

Tiredness seems to happen more often lately. I don't like it. Physical weakness, though, isn't the worst. After all these years, I still struggle with self-discipline of both mind and body. And then there's spiritual weakness; I'd like to have more power from God to make a true difference in the world for his glory. These thoughts about weakness sent me back to the April 8 reading in the devotional book Streams in the Desert. I had marked it then, feeling weak that day too, I guess. So I'll pass it along:

"'That is why, for Christ's sake, I deligiht in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong' (2 Corinthians 12:10). The literal translation of this verse adds a startling emphasis ...'Therefore I take pleasure in being without strength ... for when I am without strength, I am dynamite.'

The secret of knowing God's complete sufficiency is in coming to the end of everything in ourselves and our circumstances. Once we reach this point, we will stop seeking sympathy for our difficult situation or ill treatment, because we will recognize these things as the necessary conditions for blessings. We will then turn from our circumstances to God, realizing they are the evidence of Him working in our lives." (This part by A.B. Simpson)

"George Matheson, the well-known blind preacher of Scotland, once said, 'My dear God, I have never thanked you for my thorns. I have thanked you a thousand times for my roses but not once for my thorns. I have always looked forward to the place where I will be rewarded for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as a present glory itself.

'Teach me, O Lord, to glory in my cross. Teach me the value of my thorns. Show me how I have climbed to you through the path of pain. Show me it is through my tears I have seen my rainbows.'"

I'm not in pain, and I'm not shedding tears; only feeling weak. (Oh! I do hate that word!) So, like Matheson, I want to thank God for it, climb to him through the path of weakness, and see rainbows and dynamite through it!

The garden is smiling after yesterday's rain. Happily, things dried up just long enough for the pre-wedding picnic in Greensboro for our second cousin. We'll be delighted to welcome her dear fiance to the family next Saturday, and we're sorry that our long-planned family trip keeps us from going to the Michigan wedding. They're both gentle, creative, loving, and committed to God.

Have a great Sunday.
Carol

Taking Time to Notice

Lisa, Karin, and Sue on the "flotsam" beach at Cat Island in 1978. To get from my parents' house to the 5-mile white sand beach, we needed to wade across a narrow inlet seen below. When the tide was high, we carried our stuff over our heads.

Photo from our last trip, in 1984. After we return on May 22, I'll try to put up a couple of new photos from this visit. But I won't bore you endlessly. This is it for now.

Yesterday's paper carried the story of an unusual research study. Someone hired Joshua Bell, one of today's best violinists, to stand and play some of earth's sublimest music in the subway tunnel. As much as I love great music, I'm afraid I'd have been like hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers--they rushed right past the musician and on to catch their train for their very-important-next-task. How much we lose when we're always in a hurry! So now I'm trying to find the poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but can't. I'm sure I'll quote it wrong, and I hope one of you will correct me, in which case I'll come back and fix this posting:

Earth's crowned with heaven,

And every common bush is afire with God,

But only those who turn aside take off their shoes.

The rest sit around

And eat blackberries.

(or was it pluck blackberries?)

Turning aside and taking off shoes, of course, comes from the amazing experience Moses had when he saw God in the bush that burned but was not consumed.

There are things to do and places to go today. I wouldn't want it otherwise. But I also claim unscheduled moments to turn aside, "take off my shoes," and see whatever "glory" is hiding just behind the transparent mask of the ordinary.

The numbness in my feet is receding a bit, I slept better last night, and I am so thankful for life and wellbeing today.

Love,

Carol

Memory and Anticipation

This motley crew is enjoying a sandwich lunch after a morning of scavenging for beach treasures on Cat Island, Bahamas. My parents had moved there, taking early retirement in order to teach Bible classes in the public schools up and down the island. All told, we enjoyed five memorable vacations there.

Here's a display of the treasures we took back to Michigan from our first visit:

Now we're preparing to go to Cat Island on May 13. We hope the grandchildren will collect as many wonderful memories as we have. Well, how can they, actually? My parents are no longer there, and they were key to all the connections we were able to make with local people. And we don't expect to experience any of the primitive conditions of the past. So it can't be the same, and maybe won't be as much fun. But we're excited about the prospects.

We had such a delightful surprise yesterday. A Michigan friend came to town for a conference, bringing her husband whom we'd never met. We had dinner together last evening, and didn't nearly get caught up, so we've also planned to get together for church and lunch on Sunday. People are precious, aren't they!

Which reminds me: every person I'll see today and every person you'll see today is precious and the personal object of God's passionate love. He may give us the privilege of extending his love to them--to be "Jesus with skin" for them at whatever point of need they're facing. I hope I don't let myself become so task-obsessed that I miss those opportunities.

Blessings,

Carol

The Radical Middle

The other day I found a useful phrase, "the radical middle," in a book, The Desert Is Alive. So many people get all worked up about their dogmatic point of view on things spiritual or political. Spiritually, it seems that a lot of blood has been spilled (figuratively if not literally) over chronologies having to do with cosmic beginnings and endings, with lots of good and godly people on both ends of the spectrum and no real possibility in this life of settling the matter. So here and now I am planting my feet firmly in the “radical middle.” Someday God will settle the disagreements. I can wait.

And yesterday I came across this wise advice from Jim Elliot, one of the five missionaries who were martyred in Ecuador in 1957: “Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.” That’s my goal for today.

Blessings of spring: On Saturday I put out the hummingbird feeders, and on Tuesday I caught my first glimpse of one of those tiny wonders in our yard. The bluebirds have completed their nest in our bluebird house. And I'm nurturing a solitary swallowtail larvae on parsley leaves. I usually find several at a time; I suppose the birds gobbled the others before I noticed them.

Yesterday was a really good day. I felt well, and made some progress on photos for the magazine. There’s work yet to be done, but progress feels great.

Although I now keep my toes in ice water during the infusion of taxol, it seems the neuropathy in my feet is increasing a bit. There's still no pain, thank the Lord; but I'll appreciate prayer that the numbness doesn't get worse.

Our friend with kidney failure learned Tuesday that she still needs a donor.

Grandson Jeremy posted a new blog asking prayer for the people of Tera, the town he lived in for six months. He didn’t give details, said only that the town appears to be under a hellish attack. I wonder if you would join us in praying that God will show himself strong on behalf of the people there, for his glory. Thank you.

Love,
Carol

Chemo #31 is behind us

Chemo yesterday went well, and Carol is still sleeping this morning. I know many check the blog early, so I will fill in for her this morning so that hopefully she can get a little extra rest.

This morning I was reading David’s Psalm 69 in The Message, when he was going through a most difficult time. He said :

“God, God, save me!
I’m in over my head,
Quicksand under me, swamp water over me;
I’m going down for the third time.”

And he continues to describe his situation in most graphic terms. But then he adds his concern for others, which I find to be a great reminder to me:

“Don’t let those who look to you in hope
be discouraged by what happens to me,
Dear Lord! God of the armies!
Don’t let those out looking for you
Come to a dead end by following me—
Please, dear God of Israel!”

Isn’t that our desire too? How many people do we rub shoulders with each day that we can either encourage or discourage in their walk or search for the Lord?

Again, I am reminded that it is about HIM not about me/us regardless what challenges we face. Might David’s prayer be ours today.

Our love to you all,

Chuck…and Carol too

The Fine Art of Hurling

Last night I fell asleep at once, but was back awake within an hour and, I had to admit, feeling anxious. I'd spent much of yesterday trying to find photos for the magazine I've been writing/editing and, as always, finding it difficult and frustrating and stressful. So I lay there fretting, my shoulders tensed into hard knots, my jaws clenched, even my fingers feeling hard and stiff. But photos weren't enough. I thought also, painfully, of a family member in a difficult work situation--all options carrying huge risk. Then, of course, there's cancer and the future to be anxious about. This new realism I'm holding myself to results in embarrassing confession!

So it was a relief to remember Peter's (God's) words: "Hurl your anxieties on him, because he cares about you." First, I named them and owned them, then I lifted them up (heavy, I found them) and hurled them to God, where they made a soft landing in his limitlessly strong hands. And my soul filled with four amazing words: He cares about you. It became a litany. He's caring about you this moment. And this next moment. He still cares about you. And so I fell asleep. Guess what! He still cares about you. And me.

I found this on the blog of a friend in New Zealand yesterday: "There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our human existence." Okay, it's true. I can't do this by myself. Thus I continue to practice the fine art of hurling my anxieties on God. Because he cares!

Blessings,
Carol