Shared at graveside service for Lincoln James McFarland on December 5, 2015.

There are times in our lives when we simply want something more, we want something better.  We want better answers, better meaning, better purpose. This thought kept occurring to me during the events of this past week.  And with that,  I thought about a word used in scripture. The word is “surpassing”. Some translations use the word, “transcending”.  I love both because they convey what I feel (perhaps what we all feel at times).  I desire to surpass and transcend this life.  We find that word in Philippians 4:7 when we read, “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your mind and heart in Christ Jesus.”

Reading that I thought about peace in my own life. I don’t always have it. I find myself in turmoil and anxious about things more often than I am at peace.  There have been moments of unlikely peace in the midst of tragedy and sorrow. Perhaps that kind of peace is what “surpasses all understanding” is referring to. In the most difficult moments of my life, peace has come over me that was beyond reason or explanation.  And yet, peace (generally speaking) is elusive in our lives. We have it in occassional, small doses like drops of rain suddenly and unexpectedly landing on us and then, just as quickly, find it evaporate away. Defining the peace of God in this way I must conclude that God may not be pleased that I experience far too little of His peace.  Perhaps it is my fault.  But, may I suggest another possibility?

In thinking about the peace of God, I came to another revelation – I may have thought of that verse in the wrong way. Too often I misintrepret scripture by trying to make it about me.  The peace of God, as stated in scripture, may be referring to just that – God’s peace – not mine.  And then it all made sense.  God has peace and that is what guards my heart.  Because of Jesus, God looks at us, His children, and He has peace.  When the heavenly hosts declared at Jesus birth “Peace on earth” – that could not have meant peace between mankind. If that were so, it has failed miserably. Mankind has been at war with one another since Cain and Abel and Jesus birth did not, in an instant, vanquish mans violence against man. Rather, it is God’s peace between Himself and mankind, made possible by the person and work of Jesus, that is remarkable. God no longer sees us as enemies.  And because of that we can sing, “Glory to God in the highest”.  So what is the point of all this?

Today we can also sing, “Glory to God in the highest” because of the peace God has with us.  And here is why: God looked at the brief life of Lincoln James McFarland, He looked at his small, not even completely formed body, He looked and He, God Himself, the creator God, the author and finisher of our faith, was (and is) at peace.  Knowing that God is at peace with calling Lincoln into His arms far sooner than we would wish, is what will guard our hearts and minds until we see Lincoln again. Perhaps we will think of Lincoln and see his life as being unrealized and incomplete. But mark this well: God looks at Lincoln James McFarland and says, “He is Perfect!”.

And so I read as an encouragement to all of us, but to Justin and Lori specifically, “May the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Amen!

“Puya Raimondii” is the botanical name of a flowering plant that has the look of a cactus.  Also called “Queen of the Andes”, it can create over 30,000 flowers when in full bloom.  What makes the plant so unusual is that it only blooms once every one hundred years.  Many flower enthusiasts would say seeing the blooms of this rare plant would be the pinnacle of their flower  experiences. Obviously, very few can make that claim.

This past week my son and daughter-in-law experienced their own version of the flowering “Queen of the Andes” when Lincoln James McFarland was born into this world and for a brief moment in time the blooms of his fragile beauty left those in his presence speechless. God had chosen to allow this child of His creation to be the rarest and briefest of blooms on earth.  We marveled at his perfect form, his gentle movements and mourned when the bloom of his life, like the softly falling petal of a rose, fell into the arms of his heavenly Father.

I don’t know why God would create a flower whose blooms most will never see and I don’t know why a precious life, born into a loving and Godly home, would be sent away so soon.  Justin and Lori only caught a glimpse of Lincoln’s beauty.  They expressed their love in a single moment in time that passed through their lives much like a soft wind moves a limb on a tree. There was much more love and life ready to share.  As it turned out, Lincoln James McFarland was not ready for this world but, his heavenly Father was ready for him. 

Somewhere a flower with a million blooms is waiting to be seen, touched and held for eternity.

We love you, Lincoln!
Your grandparents, Lisa and Steve

Lisa works with really nice people. Over the past year and a half, living most of that time here in Ohio, her and I have made southeast Ohio our home and these people our family.  We have been blessed.

Fay is one of our favorites. The energy she brings to her job at Southeast Medical is infectious and stories of her exploits have entertained Lisa and I for hours.  Sometimes her energy forces a wrong word or phrase from her mouth and leaves everyone confused and amused.  She told Lisa the other day a story about how she almost moved to “Pepsi-Cola, Florida”.  I asked if “Pepsi-Cola” was anywhere near “Coca-Cola Beach”.  We adore Fay.

Of all the stories Fay has shared with us, none have been funnier than the time her and husband, Jim, buried their dead cat.  One day, while driving near their home in Zanesville, Fay noticed a dead cat on the road. She immediately recognized it as one of hers (she claims to take care of at least a half dozen). Using an empty copy paper box she had in her car, she managed to sweep the stiff feline from the road and carry it back to her house for proper burial.

Now, copy paper boxes are rather large when trying to bury them as cat caskets and she described in detail that beads of sweat soon began forming on her husband’s forehead as he dug this rather large and deep final resting place.  Finally, Jim had a large enough grave dug for both cat and box and the poor cat was laid to rest.

Sometime later that evening, Fay heard Jim calling her name and stating that the dead cat had just walked into their yard.  Either the thing had managed to claw through the box and three feet of dirt or they had buried the wrong cat.

They had buried the wrong cat.

I thought about Jim and his beads of sweat. Here he was trying to console poor Fay by digging this enormous hole in the ground for a dead cat that was not even theirs.

The truth is – I have done the same thing. No – I have never buried the wrong cat, but, I have focused my energy and attention on things that really don’t matter. How many times have beads of sweat popped up on my forehead as I toil and worry and fuss about things that, in the end, worked themselves out on their own. The cat they believed had died that fiery death on the highway, was probably watching them from the shade of a bush as they dug its grave.  In the end, all the cats I worry about in my life are alive and well after all.  And no amount of sweat and blisters will change that.

I do want to leave you with this advice. Before you go burying that dead cat, make sure it is the right one.

“Hey Dad?  Want to have a catch?”
Ray Consella to his father in “Field of Dreams”

Lisa and I drove to Zanesville, Ohio this past Saturday. I have said before that Zanesville is to Cambridge as Mt. Pilot was to Mayberry – a little bigger, a few more places to waste time and spend money but, more importantly, a place to go that makes us feel we actually went somewhere.  If some of our nosey camp neighbors ask what we did yesterday, we can say we went to Zanesville. For some reason that tends to satisfy their desire to know our boredom was different than theirs. 

Anyway, we have at least two options in driving to Zanesville. We can take interstate 70 west and be there in about twenty minutes. Or, we can drive what they call “The National Road” or highway “40”. The two lane drive down 40 takes closer to thirty minutes but does provide a little more scenery.  We almost always take the two lane. 

Driving into Zanesville from that direction, we pass through a very impoverished area of town that has row after row of dilapidated houses and apartments.  Much of what we see in Zanesville is pride worthy with soaring ancient church sanctuaries mixed with new commercial and residential developments. Like every city in America, Zanesville must deal with impoverished areas and, unfortunately, this poor part of town is the first thing we encounter upon entering the city. Often we see children playing in the trashed yards of these places and feel sad for anyone living in that neighborhood.  To imagine living in such conditions makes me feel extremely fortunate for Lisa, myself and our family. We may not have the biggest or most expensive home, but, we should fall to our knees in thanks every time we walk through the door.  May I never forget how fortunate we have been in our lives.

On our drive into Zanesville this past Saturday something surprising took place.  The same run-down houses, trashed front yards and junked cars still littered that same neighborhood. But, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimmer of hope – something that made me smile.  A father and son playing catch with a football.  Perhaps I am jumping to wrong conclusions, but, my hunch is that little boy could not care less what his house looked like or how poor his living conditions may seem. In his little world, one that included a father taking time to throw a football with him, he might as well be the Prince of Siam. 

I remember throwing a football with my son when he was little.  We would go out into the street in front of our house and spiral passes back and forth until my arm was too sore to continue. Our daughter, Heather, would occasionally stop doing her gymnastic routine in our front yard long enough to join us. She loved watching football and could throw a ball with above average velocity.  But catching was another matter. She would bat her eyes and slap the ball from her face and after taking one too many in the chops, would soon return to her back flips.  Throwing the football was really a father-son thing at our house.

In all of my experiences as a father, I cannot think of a more personal time spent with Justin.  It was those moments that I could encourage his abilities in an immediate and gratifying way.  Was it important that he could throw a football?  Not really. He never played in college or professionally and throwing a football has zero to do with his life now as a husband and soon to be father.  But, my telling him in those moments he did something good and expressing how pleased I was with him, meant more to him later in his life.  I know this to be true because once, a long time ago, my father threw a football with me and told me how good I was.  That feeling of accomplishment never went away and I never felt as connected to my dad as in those moments.  It is why I cried like a baby at the end of “Field of Dreams”.  Now you know.

I wish the leaders of Zanesville could do something about that poor neighborhood.  Maybe plans are in the works to build new, affordable housing.  That would be great.  But, I know what would be even greater – seeing father’s in that place throwing footballs with their sons.

Now that would change everything.

Over a year ago, Lisa and I started planning for a family trip to Disney World. The last time we vacationed there was in November 2013 for our son and daughter-in-laws wedding. Over the past two years much has taken place in our lives including Lisa’s diagnosis and eventual defeat of breast cancer. So, needless to say, we have been looking forward to this trip for some time.

Lisa and I left Cambridge, Ohio this past Friday afternoon and headed south toward Columbia, South Carolina – the halfway point of the 940 mile trek. Our family left around the same time from Kentucky. I have concluded that we never travel unless rain of biblical proportion is not encountered somewhere along the way.  In this case, it hit as we entered the mountains of West Virginia. I’m talking deluge rain – blinding rain – the kind of rain that makes you wish you were back in Cambridge, Ohio. I am certain the vistas through the mountains were breath taking. We have no idea. The truth is, my only memory of that part of the trip was gripping the steering wheel and praying I did not lose sight of the tailights in front of me. Nerves shot.  Lisa has a way of being as cool as a cucumber in a bag of ice during these events. She could sleep through a tornado. Trust me, we off-set each other. God, get us to Disney and a hot tub.

We finally arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina, but could not find a room available. The recent flooding in that area had brought relief workers to inhabit every hotel room for miles. Our luck could not get any worse. So we drove on.

Along with our battle with the rain, exhaustion and the thought of sleeping in our car was our car itself. It seemed to be losing power and my fear was a major break down on a major highway during this major rain storm. This trip was starting to feel like a major pain in the.. , nevermind – on with the story.

We had no choice but to drive further south and pray for a hotel vacancy somewhere – anywhere. Funny how your hotel room standards start dropping the later in the evening it becomes. In the previous two hours we went from a four star to a room at the YMCA.

In Columbia we found a Residence Inn and stopped to beg, pray, sell a kidney – whatever – for a room. Thank God! – they had one. I don’t even remember the clerk telling me the cost. All I heard was, “Yes, we have a vacancy”.

Saturday morning rose with a forecast of more rain, something South Carolina did not need. We headed out hopeful to be at Disney by early afternoon and looking forward to seeing our family for the first time in a month. And then the rain came.  I’m not even sure “rain” is the right term for what we went through. This was “open heaven’s hydrant and turn it full blast onto that black, 2002 Trailblazer carrying those two idiots from Kentucky by way of Ohio”.  It was during that deluge that our vehicle decided to quit running.  Well, son of a .. , nevermind.

We finally realized our vehicle was losing power due to a clog – somewhere and mercifully must have blown a chunk of something out of the tailpipe and probably across the window of the driver behind us. For it was after that it ran great. Sorry about that fella! But, we are out of here.

You know? Sunshine looks much better after a rainstorm. By the Florida line our spirits were soaring as we neared our destination and with Lisa driving the final two hundred miles (another story for another day) I finally felt my sphincter relax. What a trip.

It was quite a reunion for us when our family arrived at Saratoga Springs Resort. Seeing our grandson, Conner Jack, was worth all the stress of the previous two days.  We are now all together here at Disney World and…,

there is no rain in sight.

Here is a story.  Because this happened twenty-five years ago or longer, I may have forgotten some of the details.  Forgive me.  Details here really don’t matter.  So here goes.  I was a volunteer with our church youth group back in the early nineties (and many years before that) and was driving a van of our youth to Six Flags amusement park in St. Louis.  I can’t remember if more than one van took that trip, but, I do remember the one I was driving had a flat tire in, of all places, East St. Louis.  For those of you who may not know, East St. Louis has many wonderful people living there and I’m sure many would have come to our aid.  However, my skin pigmentation left me feeling a little uneasy in a neighborhood where the majority of residents were African-American and we were even advised by a really nice African-American young lady that we should go back to our van and stay there.  The problem was we could not loosen the lug nuts on our flat tire.  I tried.  Another youth leader, Mark Bolser, tried.  Nothing.  I thought I was a fairly strong man. Mark, who was and is even bigger than I am, thought he was stronger.  We got nowhere.  After a while we just started praying for someone to help us out.  We had pulled off of the interstate and made sure the kids were safe and then we waited.  This was a time when cell phones were about the size of a horses leg and none of us could afford to carry them anyway.  All we could do was pray and wait thinking a patrol officer would finally see our emergency.  Then something very strange happened.   An older gentleman in a station wagon pulled in behind our stranded van and told us he had seen us from a distance and decided to turn around and offer assistance.  We explained that we could not loosen the lug nuts and would need a tow.  We almost laughed when he took our lug wrench and began trying to loosen the seemingly welded tire.  We stopped laughing when he succeeded.  How in the name of Firestone had he managed this?  All of us were thankful and Mark and I were a little humbled that a man twice our age and half our size had out manned us when it came to lug nut removal.  He was the lug nut champion in our books and before long we had our tire changed and were back on the road.

Over the years this story has come up from time to time and I can’t help but think that our rescuer was something supernatural.  In fact, we tried to find his name in the phone book the next day to send him a card of thanks.  He was not listed.  We decided the man was an angel.  (Cue “Twilight Zone” music).

We needed people that night.  We need people all the time.  Lisa and I have had many, many experiences in our marriage where we simply needed people’s help.  When we are home, that need is met readily.  Between our family, our friends and our church, there are always people to come to our aid in an emergency.  That is a comforting thought.  While we are on the road traveling however, the need is even greater and fear of not finding the help we need amplified.  There are too many examples of people – complete strangers – coming to our assistance while on the road.  We will never forget the two young men just outside Tucumcari, New Mexico who stopped to offer help when our previous fifth wheel trailer had a blow out in the middle of the night as we made our way home from Kingman, Arizona.  Lisa and I were scared to death and had no phone signal.  They pulled in behind our camper and managed to call for help on our behalf.  We still do not know why they had phone service and we did not.  Maybe they were angels as well. (Again, cue up “Twilight Zone” music).

We have now been here in Cambridge for two weeks and already have had the need for people.  Our trip up here from Owensboro went smooth until we were just outside Zanesville, Ohio – about twenty-five miles from our destination.  I noticed our temperature gauge spike to over-heating levels and we managed to pull into a gas station and call for help.  While waiting for the tow truck, a man overheard my conversation on the phone and offered to take a look at our truck.  We needed coolant and a lot of it and he assisted us in getting back on the road and finally into the Spring Valley Campground here in Cambridge.

We just need people.  Thanks to more good people, our truck is now at a garage in Lowell, Ohio awaiting repair.  People, whom we barely knew, heard of our truck problems and connected us to a nice mechanic fifty miles from our campground. We needed good people to connect us to good people.  While waiting for Lisa’s dad, Vernon, to bring our other vehicle here to Cambridge, we needed the help of more good people to haul our sorry asses around town to get groceries and get Lisa to work.  There are good people everywhere we have been in our lives and many, many times – we have needed their goodness.

The saying, “No man is an island” is certainly true.  Our lives impact other lives and their lives impact ours.  We live in a culture that advocates self-reliance and a “do it yourself” mentality.  Sorry – but that is another Madison Avenue lie that is not only a falsehood, but attempts to tear down one of the sustaining fabrics of our society.  That is, neighbors and community, brotherhood, sisterhood, friends and kindness toward one another.

Lisa and I have learned to wave the white flag and admit that we need others in our lives.  We have friends that have gone out of their way to serve us and help us and minister to us and simply be kind to us.  Steve and Michelle Luck are friends who, like us, are often on the road traveling from place to place.  We know we can rely on them if we need something.  They know – they can rely on us.  We have friends at home and friends on the road that we rely on – people that we need.

There is a Christian concept known as “resting in the Lord.”  It is one that is not often discussed in Christian education and one that I only discovered very late in my life.  But, it changed mine and my family’s understanding of God and His grace.  Basically, it is the wonderful thought that we can rest, that is: completely depend upon God’s finished work in Christ on our behalf.  When Jesus spoke the words, “It is finished”, on the cross, He was saying the work is done – there is nothing more to do or say.  All of us, as His children, are now commanded to rest in His finished work.  We can’t add to it nor can we take away from it.  IT IS FINISHED!

Lisa and I have learned that we can also rest in our friends and the good people God has placed in our lives.  He must have known we were going to need people in all the places He has sent us in our travels.  From Pennsylvania to California and everywhere in between – God has placed good people in our lives to give us the help He knew we would need.  He knows that the McFarland’s are idiots about many things so He places people along the way to do what we can’t do.  We rest knowing there are people we can rely on – not only our family, but complete strangers will be placed into our path and get us where we need to go.

I consider myself a man of faith.  But, I am pragmatic in my faith.  Talk of supernatural things tends to cause my eyes to roll.  And yet, all the experiences Lisa and I have had in our travels where people just showed up to provide us help – has me thinking.

You know?  Maybe that man in East St. Louis was an angel.

Love, Steve and Lisa!

This is our 200th blog at trippinwithsteveandlisa.com. It began at the Altland House in Abbottstown, Pennsylvania back in June of 2012. Tonight I write from our home in Owensboro, Ky. I have shared our lives with readers from all over our country and some from other parts of the world. Lisa and I have been humbled and blessed by the response and we only hope that our adventures and misadventures have brought a smile to your face.

Recently our blog has taken an unexpected, serious tone as we  allowed readers into Lisa’s fight
against breast cancer. Perhaps something said in telling that story will be a help to someone fighting that battle themselves. Lisa fought hard and people prayed hard and we kicked its ass back into the the hell it comes from. Now we are ready to rejoice hard as she returns to work this week in Cambridge, Ohio. Lisa loves to work. Cardiac Sonography is her calling and she is good at what she does. Thankfully – God has made a way for her and I to follow her job once again. In the morning we will hitch up and head north. God is good!

It seems appropriate that our 200th blog would be at this time and place as we close this chapter – one of the most difficult four months of our lives. We would be remiss to not say ‘thank you’ to those who have supported us during this challenge. This is going to sound completely inadequate and almost trite as we try to say what our hearts feel. But, here goes.

First, we thank our children and their families. Justin and Heather are remarkable in the way they live their lives, take care of their families and display love for Lisa and I. Lori and James are just what we prayed for so many years when thinking about a wife for Justin and a husband for Heather.  They love the Lord and each other – nuff said. We know it has not always been easy on them – our being gone for months at a time. But, they are doing life in a way that makes us proud of them. We miss laughing with them and the joy of Jesus seems to just show up every time we get together. Our family is and has always been a laughing family. We may not have much – but, we have fun.

Thanks to Lisa’s mom and dad (Bobbie and Vernon) they give and give in a way that is an example to us all. I, personally, will miss working with Vernon everyday on our various projects and eating lunch with the two of them nearly every day.  We are grateful for our extended family including Lisa’s brother, Paul, his wife, Donna, and their two remarkable boys, Drew and Luke. And thanks to her brother, John Michael, his wife Tina, and their adorable girls, Lexie and Lauryn. They treated us to a much needed get away in Alabama and offered help anytime we needed it. We can’t wait to see all of them at Disney World in a few weeks. Let’s rock that place!

And as for family – a big thanks to the light in all our lives, Conner Jack. That little curly headed kid is the brightest star in our sky and every time he bounced up our steps into our house and greeted us with his, “Hey! Mimi and Mac!!” – cancer left the room.

Thanks to our friends, our church, and everyone who prayed that we would get past this trial and back on the road. Too many to thank and words are inadequate anyway to express our appreciation. The body of Christ is an amazingly powerful force in our world. When people from our church came and prayed with us, sat with us, fed us and loved on us – we were on holy ground.  A part of the body was sick and the other parts came to heal.

200. Wow! Where will the road lead? What adventures await? What stories will be told? The next blog is just around the corner. Thanks for reading!

We love all of you!
Steve and Lisa.

Perspective. So many times in my life I have forgotten what was important. Maybe you have as well. You know what I’m talking about. Getting bent out of shape over that driver that cut us off in traffic and staying mad for the next two hours – those type of things. We forget what is really important and start thinking stupid. We crown the little things, the unimportant things, the things that don’t matter, as rulers in our personal kingdoms and only a cold slap in the face of our meager existences can jolt us back to that thing we call perspective. Perspective: knowing what is really important and what is not.

Cancer gives you perspective. I wrote in a previous post how in May of this year I experienced hand-wringing worry about our diesel truck being repaired in time to pull our RV to Arizona. I could not eat or sleep. That truck was the most important thing on the planet to me. That is, until the doctor said the word “cancer” to Lisa and I while explaining the results of her biopsy. Suddenly, perspective returned to my thinking. I immediately could not have cared less if that truck ever started again. The scripture tells the story of the prodigal son squandering his inheritance and, in his own way, losing perspective. He partied so long and hard that, eventually, he found himself eating with the pigs. Something stirred in his soul and he was suddenly aware of his condition. My hunch is he probably felt not only hungry, but, stupid as well. He had lost perspective, but, suddenly, found himself. As his father declared to his brothers upon his return: “My son was lost but now is found.”

My father in law and I have spent a great deal of time together over these four months we have been home with Lisa’s cancer surgery and treatment. We have worked together remodeling our bathroom and taking care of other jobs around his house and ours. On an almost daily basis we have made runs to the local building supply store. God forbid that we make a list of things we need before we leave for Lowes. We would rather hop back in the truck and buy the screws one at a time. During one of our many trips we encountered a man who had completely lost his perspective. If I was not so pissed off with how he acted – I may have felt sorry for him.  Here is what happened:

I need to first explain that driving our Ford F-250 around town is not easy. The trucks poor turning radius requires us to park where we can use three or four spaces – usually far enough away that a shuttle bus would seem appropriate. We do a lot of walking to avoid tight spaces.  One day I parked a little too close to a small, new car and that is when this story got interesting. My father in law (Vernon) must have tapped the vehicle with his door as it opened and made a very, very small dent and scratch in its side. No big deal except the owner was in the car when it happened. By the time I had walked around to that side of the truck, the owner was already squatting down beside his car examining the carnage. Vernon immediately apologized and even offered to pay for damages. The man rubbed the microscopic dent and expressed his frustration since it was a new car. Again, Vernon apologized and had even taken his wallet out to pay for the, so called, damages by the time I realized what had happened. I could tell Vernon was bothered by his mistake. The man finally stormed back into his car and angrily drove away. The Hubble Telescope can spot black holes nine million light years away – but never would have spotted the dent that man was so upset over.  He, ladies and gentlemen, had lost perspective.

Throughout the rest of that day I thought about that man. I also thought about things I wish I had said to him. Maybe I should have said, ” Sir! Go to hell and take that dented up piece of crap car with you.”  Or maybe: “Hang on a minute, Sir! Let me get my microscope out of my trunk so I can see the damages.” Maybe I should have defended Vernon by telling him: “He is not paying anything for that dent. And I’m not paying for these dents.” (I then proceed to open my truck door and repeatedly bash the side of his car).

But after I thought more about it I really think the best thing to have done was just what Vernon did – apologize and offer to pay for his mistake. There was something very Jesus-like in Vernon that day. He was teaching me a lesson in humility and compassion. While I wanted to take a sledge hammer to the man’s hood – Vernon had taken out his wallet.

I don’t know the man’s name or remember what he looked like. I don’t even remember much about his car. But maybe he is reading this and if so I do have something to say to him. Here goes:

“Sir, my wife just went through breast cancer. Over these past four months we endured moments in which we did not know what our futures would be or if we would have a future. There is now the very real possibility that her cancer could return. Each night I pray for her as she sleeps next to me and I ask God to keep cancer out of her life forever. I want her to see Conner Jack grow up. I want her to see our other grandchildren be born and grow. I want to travel with her to other places and see her help men and woman with heart conditions figure out what is wrong and continue to be part of God’s healing plan for their lives – no matter if they live in Hanover, Pennsylvania, Kingman, Arizona or Owensboro, Kentucky. I don’t want her to hurt anymore or be sick anymore. Cancer is a heartless disease that takes no prisoners. It attacks the rich and the poor. It took my mom and I am begging God to never allow it to take anyone else in my family. And now – I want you to look Lisa in the eyes and tell her about that dent in your car door.”

Perspective.

Love, Steve and Lisa.

In two weeks, Lisa and I will hitch up the RV and head north to what has become our second home – Cambridge, Ohio. With her radiation treatments now complete – we are trying to pick up where we left off four months ago. Instead of heading west to Kingman, Arizona (where she was contracted to work prior to her breast cancer diagnosis) we are returning to Cambridge and Southeastern Medical for (at least) a thirteen week assignment.

These past four months have been remarkable. In an almost unexplanable way they have been the most challenging and yet enjoyable time of our lives. Cancer creates tension and uncertainty that is emotionally exhausting and there were plenty of hand wringing moments and way too many sleepless nights. But, amazingly, Lisa has recovered from her surgery and radiation treatments unexplainably well. In fact – her doctors have been stunned at how well she has handled both, calling her the “perfect cancer patient”.  The prayers of our family, friends, and a group of cloistered nuns in Alabama, have been the vehicle God has used to do His amazing work. Why do people get cancer? I have no idea. Why do some never respond to treatment? I have no idea. Why did God choose to bless Lisa with such a smooth recovery? I have no idea. But this I do know – He is God and according to scripture “He will do according to His good will and pleasure”.  All we can do is pray and then praise and acknowledge Him for the outcome. So here goes: “Hey everybody! Take a look at what God did in Lisa’s life.  Mark it well – He did a great thing.”

Our extended stay has allowed us to get some things done here at home and, more importantly, reconnect with our family.  I do need to admit that part of me is looking forward to getting away from here. Give Lisa about twelve seconds and she will have, at least, three more ideas and projects for me to complete. I never knew how many things were needing to be painted, wired, hung, hammered, dry walled, patched, caulked, sealed, sanded, and stained. But, apparently, Lisa did.

So now we are wrapping up our final two weeks here at home and squeezing in as much time with our family (especially Conner Jack) and friends. There will be follow up doctor visits and the need for more prayers as we await the day doctors give Lisa the ‘all clear’ and we can close this chapter of our lives for good.  And, I am certain, Lisa will find reason to use the last drop of paint and squeeze out a little more caulk before all is said and done.

Now and then it will probably be wise for us to revisit these past four months.  We will look back and remember the days people cried with us, worried with us, fed us, sat in the hospital with us, celebrated with us and sometime during their day or night said a prayer for us. 

And if you were one of those people, thank you!

Now, where were we?

Love, Steve and Lisa.

My parents did very little traveling. Once we went for a weekend to Nashville and I vaguely remember on one other occasion driving to Frankfort for a mini-vacation. The world outside Daviess County seemed like an unreachable destination. I did not see an ocean until I was in my twenties after I had moved away from home. The only place my parents ever drove to (on a regular basis) was Union County, Kentucky to visit my mom’s family and, specifically, Sturgis, where my grandparents lived. Once every couple of months we would skip Sunday School and church and travel the sixty miles to their home on Adams Street, directly across from the First Baptist Church, where my grandad served as deacon for over sixty years. I can still recall Sunday evenings sitting on their front porch swing and hearing my grandad’s voice soaring above all others during a rousing rendition of “Bringing in the Sheaves”. While many of my friends spent spring break in exotic places like Panama City Beach, mine was always in Sturgis.

Driving to Sturgis was something of an adventure in itself. I remember having to take a ferry across the Green River at one point and I came to memorize every little town we passed through along the way. When my dad would announce that we had arrived in Morganfield, I knew our journey was near an end. Morganfield was to Sturgis the same way I always imagined Mount Pilot was to Mayberry. Morganfield was just a twenty minute drive from Sturgis and if we were in Morganfield, I always knew, our journey was almost over.

So – I thought of all that while looking at a calendar the other day and realizing  Lisa’s journey with breast cancer surgery and radiation was nearly over. In just a couple of weeks she will complete her radiation and soon we will head back to Cambridge, Ohio where she returns to work for another thirteen week assignment.  The opportunity to return to Cambridge seemed too good to pass up as it will allow us to easily return home for follow up doctor appointments. Arizona is still on our minds and we are hoping to get back there this winter, God willing. But, for now, it is back to those crazy Buckeye fans and friends we have grown to love.

When I was little, that sixty mile trip to Sturgis, Kentucky seemed like two lifetimes of driving. Little boys and tight spaces are not a good mix. I thought we would never arrive and throughout the passing miles, my brother and I would ask our parents the most important question, “Are we there yet?” Their response was always the same: “Almost there!”

When Lisa was first diagnosed with cancer, the journey we would embark upon together seemed almost impassable and never ending. We did not know (really) where we were going or how we would get there. But, now we see the end and are excited that this unexpected journey is nearly done.

We are in Morganfield with Sturgis just a few more miles ahead. And, if I listen real close, my grandfather is singing above everyone else.

Love, Steve and Lisa.