So we prayed for laughter – a change in ourselves or our circumstances that would provoke such gut level jocundity. One such change occurred: A friend of ours has seen success in business in recent years. And he has committed to pay a good portion of our bills every month while he can to afford me the opportunity to write and Jen the freedom to stay home with the boys.
This is what every artist dreams of yet most often knows only in a dream. For us, for now, that dream has become a reality. This fledgling artist has a renaissance benefactor.
Our prayer is that, with Jen home throughout the week, and me not fretting about gainful employment, we may collectively focus our efforts on the writing of a book and the raising of our boys; finding and keeping a weekly rhythm that is conducive to both.
Of course there are abiding obstacles.
My immune system is crippled. I get sick more often and stay sick for longer than I should. I am tired a lot. I sleep ten to fourteen hours a day. My neck, back, and wrists are constantly nagging for my attention. And pain shrinks existence. Pain focuses self on self. It’s hard to fight this some days. And such self-centeredness is pervasive – not limited to the physical. God have mercy.
Good news is that Crohn’s is rather quiet – more or less under control in my body. We’ve figured the source of recent irritations to have been too much magnesium in my supplements, and too much acid in my belly. Easily fixed.
A recent routine scan (once every six-months) for cancer called for further investigation. A follow-up scan revealed a busy thymus. Well, you know what they say: “thymus money.” So for now, my six-month scan cycle will be tightened to one every three months – until they can positively rule out cancerous activity.
A doctor I saw today said it may take years to feel normal again. “Yeah, I know, but it’ll be two years next May.”
“Two?” he said. “For you, try twenty.”
Twenty years to normal.
“This is a very hard word, master. Tell me, how can this be?”
“Ten times the chemo, ten times the recovery.”
So I’ll be fifty before I feel like thirty again?
A hard word indeed.
Still, laughing more than a little, we are
Still here and still His,
Jeremy
P.S. Sample my preaching via the downloadable messages posted on my homepage. If it be a word that would benefit your community, consider sending me an email to request a visit. I’d love to come share my story and testify to God’s might and grace where you are.
Jeremy Erickson 