"Thanks for letting Dan come out to play"
When I was 17 years-old, I was given a special little book titled Friendship is a Gentle Thing. I will interject some quotes from this book while sharing about a gentle friend in my life.
"Friends can come in many shapes and sizes."
I met Dan when I was about 11. He lived next door with his beautiful wife and four rambunctious little boys. I would sometimes catch a glimpse of Dan arriving at home after he had worked all day. And, on many evenings, I would show up on their doorstep to ask if Dan could come out to play. He often shared the gift of his time by coming over to play basketball with me at the goal attached to a tree in my backyard. Even then, I admired this timeless man's quiet strength, gentle spirit, and the ever present sparkle in his eyes. Dan always accepted me for exactly who I was, even during those awkward, preteen years. While he was not tall in stature, Dan was a giant in my eyes.
"Even when you live in different places, if you're friends, you're always neighbors."
Eventually, these dear friends moved to another area of town, and I lost my afternoon basketball buddy. But, it was always the same when we got back together, even after I was away for years serving in the military.
"Doing things together is the stuff friendships are made from. Sharing the memories is the glue."
After retiring from the Air Force in 1995, I returned to my home area and became the pianist at the church where Nancy - the one who graciously forgave me for taking her husband's attention when she had been with four busy little boys all day - and Dan were active members. For more than 15 years, we had many more opportunities to spend time together and to enjoy conversations at the piano bench and over meals.
In March of 2010, Dan was diagnosed with cancer just 18 days before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. While my journey was far less extensive than Dan's own, I found myself relating to him yet again, and drawing strength from his courageous example. From the very beginning of that new journey, Dan insisted that God had a plan. He consistently demonstrated an unwavering strength and courage beyond all human capability. As Dan faced surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy, he continued to trust God, and to stand on a firm foundation.
We lost Dan in April of 2011. On the day before the funeral, I had a flower delivered to Nancy. The vase was a basketball. And, the note simply said, "Thanks for letting Dan come out to play."
In my mind, I like to imagine that I will one day live next door to Dan in Heaven. We will be young and healthy again. And, if there just happens to be a basketball goal attached to a tree in the backyard of my Heavenly home, I know that I will show up on Dan's doorstep, asking him to come out to play. Somehow, I know that he will honor that request, as he will not want to disappoint an old friend.
"A warm and quiet feeling rich in unspoken admiration, friendship is a gentle things - and life is good when you can say, 'I have a friend.'"
This column is in memory of Dan Alexander - basketball buddy, Christian neighbor, courageous hero and gentle friend.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
March 2013 Column
I am so grateful for the opportunity to write a monthly column for a local newspaper. Since some might not have a chance to see the Gaston Gazette, I will include the columns in this blog site. And, that will be a good way to keep them compiled in one place. I write the column, and the newspaper chooses the headline. So, here is the March 2013 column:
"Facing cancer, treatment one day at a time"
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010, I began a journey down a road that I had not previously traveled. While I was very aware that thousands of women and men had been down this road, it was still my personal journey. Many chose to travel with me, whether by their presence, prayers, written or spoken words of encouragement, food, a loving touch or a hug. I understood that others would not choose to join me on the journey, as the new diagnosis served as an uncomfortable reminder that they were also vulnerable to this disease.
During those days when I seemed to be in a mental and emotional fog, I got up in the mornings and took one step at a time. I could relate to a quote by Mark Twain: "Courage is not the lack of fear. It is acting in spite of it." So I pressed on while trusting that God had a plan. Jeremiah 29:11 became very real to me: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Just a couple of weeks after the surgery, I drove to Charlotte twice each day for the high dose radiation treatments. I will never believe it was coincidental that a new song was constantly playing on the radio in my car. I learned that the song was "Before the Morning" by Josh Wilson. The lyrics seemed to take a flying leap from the radio into the depths of my turbulent soul. As a musician, I was drawn to "Would you dare, would you dare to believe that you still have a reason to sing? 'Cause the pain that you've been feeling can't compare to the joy that's coming."
Another line of the same song reminded me that the pain I was feeling was just the hurt before the healing. I found that my greatest struggle was not due to physical pain. Rather, it was from emotional pain that stemmed from the shock of the cancer diagnosis, as well as a deep personal disappointment and loss that occurred within weeks of the diagnosis. But, even when our human bodies and other human beings disappoint us, God remains faithful. He keeps his promise that He will never leave us or forsake us. And, I could not ask for a better son, parents, sisters, extended family, and friends.
As I joyfully celebrate my three year cancer survivor anniversary, I am grateful for my journey and for the gift of life. Cancer did not define who I was, but was rather an event that has become forever woven into my life tapestry. I am certain that God has left me here for a purpose. And, with so much living, learning, laughing and loving to do, I don't want to waste a minute.
"Facing cancer, treatment one day at a time"
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010, I began a journey down a road that I had not previously traveled. While I was very aware that thousands of women and men had been down this road, it was still my personal journey. Many chose to travel with me, whether by their presence, prayers, written or spoken words of encouragement, food, a loving touch or a hug. I understood that others would not choose to join me on the journey, as the new diagnosis served as an uncomfortable reminder that they were also vulnerable to this disease.
During those days when I seemed to be in a mental and emotional fog, I got up in the mornings and took one step at a time. I could relate to a quote by Mark Twain: "Courage is not the lack of fear. It is acting in spite of it." So I pressed on while trusting that God had a plan. Jeremiah 29:11 became very real to me: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Just a couple of weeks after the surgery, I drove to Charlotte twice each day for the high dose radiation treatments. I will never believe it was coincidental that a new song was constantly playing on the radio in my car. I learned that the song was "Before the Morning" by Josh Wilson. The lyrics seemed to take a flying leap from the radio into the depths of my turbulent soul. As a musician, I was drawn to "Would you dare, would you dare to believe that you still have a reason to sing? 'Cause the pain that you've been feeling can't compare to the joy that's coming."
Another line of the same song reminded me that the pain I was feeling was just the hurt before the healing. I found that my greatest struggle was not due to physical pain. Rather, it was from emotional pain that stemmed from the shock of the cancer diagnosis, as well as a deep personal disappointment and loss that occurred within weeks of the diagnosis. But, even when our human bodies and other human beings disappoint us, God remains faithful. He keeps his promise that He will never leave us or forsake us. And, I could not ask for a better son, parents, sisters, extended family, and friends.
As I joyfully celebrate my three year cancer survivor anniversary, I am grateful for my journey and for the gift of life. Cancer did not define who I was, but was rather an event that has become forever woven into my life tapestry. I am certain that God has left me here for a purpose. And, with so much living, learning, laughing and loving to do, I don't want to waste a minute.
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