Archives for May 2016

ROUND ONE

May 21, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com 1 Comment

Friday meant a trip to the oncologist for blood work and to talk about the next round of chemotherapy.

One of my doctors came in and quickly read over the blood work numbers and said something like, “not bad”. I laughed and said she was going to have to explain these numbers to me and explain what “not bad” meant. Nancy and I got the first of what will be many tutorials on the blood work related to my chemotherapy. The numbers were “exactly where they were supposed to be”.

A few minutes later my oncologist came in and he seemed pleased with everything. I have stopped using the high powered pain meds and now use simply Tylenol to treat any pain. We decided that the last chemotherapy treatment had gone well and that we should keep to that schedule…so I get my second treatment this coming Monday.

The rest of the day was spent resting and sleeping. I picked up a book to read…made it four pages and fell asleep. Nancy came home from the store and I helped her carry in a few bags of groceries. After the groceries I was wiped out, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open as she shared about her journey to the store. For some reason today has been one of those low energy days.

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CHEMOTHERAPY

May 18, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com 1 Comment

When I look back on my life there are many people I am thankful to have had the opportunity to journey with, even if it was for the shortest of times.

There is another group of people…those I never had the opportunity to meet, talk with, share some of life’s journey with and somehow that missed opportunity leaves me feeling like I am missing something. These are the people we hear about from friends and family. We are first introduced to them with words like, “I wish you had met…you would have loved them.” They continue on to share some story, character trait or ideal that made the individual so special and important in their lives.

Any time a pastor enters into a new congregation we get introduced to a lot of people in this second group. Friends and family share of those who were important in shaping who they have become. There are moments when you sit and listen as people talk of someone who is no longer present and say, “I wish I could talk with them for just fifteen minutes.”

Claude Rifus Foster is one of those people I learned about when I joined First Baptist in Kennett Square. A scholar, a teacher, a committed follower of Jesus there was something special about him. Listening to his grandson talk about him made me wish for the opportunity to get to know Claude. As his daughter shares of his passions and his writings it made me realize there would have been a lot to learn walking alongside someone like Claude.

2016-05-09 12.59.56 I got a phone call the other day. It was Claude’s daughter. “Pastor, are you going to be in your office today? I have something I want to give you.” I assured her I would be there most of the day. Less than half an hour later she showed up with a piece of paper in her hand. She sat in my office and said, “I am not sure about this. I do not want to upset you, but I have this sense I am supposed to share this with you. My dad was a poet. When he had cancer he wrote a poem about chemotherapy and I want to share it with you.” Very carefully, cautiously…almost as if not to hurt me she handed me the poem. It was beautiful! It captured ideas, thoughts, struggles that ran through my mind as I sat in that treatment chair watching this fluid of death and life flow into my body last Monday. For the longest time I simply reclined in my chair listening to my music watching the slow drip as the chemicals mixed and were pumped into my body. My mind was almost numb. I could find no words. Claude could and he shared them beautifully.

I thanked his daughter for sharing them with me and asked permission to share them with on my blog.

CHEMOTHERAPY

Containers of liquid chemicals strung from

the slender, steel standards’s highest extremity,

release ever so dilatorily, drop, by drop, by drop,

down the long, thin, translucent channel,

their recruits against the mortal enemy.

The fluid slides leisurely down the flexible tube

which the nurse’s expert hands, perfected by

innumerable repetitions, have inserted into the vein,

where conduit and hand meet.

Time lingers as the silent drop, drop, drop of the liquid,

like the relentless, though languid march of allied battalions,

sovereignly measures its own beat.

Passing into the blood stream, the chemicals cannot distinguish

between a healthy and a cancerous cell.

the body, a reluctant host to the alien invaders,

must accept them as guests if it hopes to get well.

The reaction to the therapy is a dichotomy

in which the remedy is both friend and foe.

The amiable hope of healing is proffered,

but not without passage into the valley of woe.

© Claude Rifus Foster

THE DEATH OF “SUPER PASTOR”

May 18, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com 2 Comments

When I was growing up there was one thing you could count on every year….like clock work…100% guaranteed. The Sunday night that The Sound of Music or the Wizard of Oz came on television mom was in charge! No sports, no Sunday night church (most of you will not grasp how big a deal that was)…nothing was going to get in the way of this family event. There were snacks, protests of “how many times do we have to watch this.” There may even have been a little sarcastic, less than flattering singing at different times…yes, I know how to solve a problem like Maria. Mom did not approve of the singing…which of course made it all the more fun. Looking back those were sacred, special times. If I see either one of those shows will be on television these days I call mom, just to make sure she knows…so Dad does not miss another opportunity to catch any new plot twists.

One of my favorite scenes in the Wizard of Oz is when the curtain is pulled back on “Oz the Great and Terrible” and he is left cowering, shouting into a microphone, “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”

I am going to share some things today that may be a little like pulling that curtain back on the Great Oz. Sometimes when we peek behind the curtain we learn things…I believe it is always good to know truth. Jesus thought so to. In John 8 he was speaking to some of his followers and said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” So here goes… [Read more…]

AWARE OF OUR BLESSINGS

May 14, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com Leave a Comment

Nancy, Rayann and I moved into our new home last December.

front yard We quickly took care of some of the inside projects and then turned toward settling in and having a season of rest and peace.

All winter long I have been walking around our yard, envisioning what could be and thinking about what it would be like to get out into the yard and start putting things in order. I had a list (yeah I know…no big surprise) and spent time on Craigslist searching out free supplies to complete everything. As the weather started to turn toward spring I would jump outside and begin to take care of one piece and plan other projects.

Two weeks ago all those plan and projects were placed on hold. What used to be important was now suddenly not as high a priority as it used to be.

Today was a beautiful day. I spent some time on our porch smelling the smells of spring, the fresh earth ready for planting. Looking at what were to be the projects of this summer across the front of the house. It was both exciting and demoralizing at the same time. I loved being outside, listening to the birds, feeling the warm sun and cool breeze on my face and enjoying the home God has blessed us with for this first spring season.

At the same time the experience was demoralizing. On a Cancer / chemotherapy free day I would have been out working in the yard. Today it was a victory to sit with Owen on the porch. When I first got out there all I could do was think about what I was not doing. I was focused on the stairs I had planned to replace, the deck which was going to get power washed and then painted, the sidewalk which was going to get pulled up and then poured again. My eyes were drawn to the stone steps which needed to be pulled up, re-leveled and set again. I saw the overgrown flowerbeds and everything that I was planning to pull out so we could start fresh.

At some point my attitude / vision changed. I was able to put all of the projects aside and thank God for this peaceful place to sit and be still. I was able to laugh at Owen, my daughters dog, as he explored the porch in search of God knows what. The music of the birds which live in the woods which surround our home began to help me be still and settle. No, things were not perfect…yet they were very, very good.

A few minutes later Joseph and Rayann went outside and began to work on one part of the yard which I had a hard time looking at. They cleaned up sticks, raked leaves and stacked wood for the winter. What was a mess turned into a beautiful piece of our lawn. All the Time God is Good…God is Good All the Time.

The truth is my projects, and they are just that…my projects do not matter. If it takes the next ten years to accomplish them…so be it. I am 47 years old. So far my life experience has taught me the seasons follow one after the other and I am confident they will continue to do so. With all the prayers being offered on my behalf I have faith there will be another Spring and Summer where I will be able to transform our yard into the vision I have for it.

I went back onto the porch later in the afternoon. As I sat enjoying the place God had provided for me and my family I was struck by this reality: Over my life I have had the privilege to travel all over the world. I have been in Honduras, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and England. One thing those of us who have lived in the US all our lives often lose sight of is how blessed we are. We think of what we want, of how things could be better if we had just a little more or if things were just a little different. The truth is our experience of life is very different than most of the world.

My challenge, our challenge is to learn to live with an awareness of how blessed we are even when it feels like our life is anything but blessed. Less than one week after my diagnosis I was receiving my first chemotherapy treatment! My second will either be next Friday or Monday. For all the talk of a broken healthcare system (there are definitely improvements to be made) I am being given the best treatment and the greatest hope for the future. In a very large part of the world my condition would never have been diagnosed and I would have slowly gotten worse with no hope for improvement. I am glad I live here…I am blessed.

We need to be asking God for the vision to see the ways in which we are blessed.

Sometimes it is hard to see, we need the Spirit’s help to see the world clearly.

PSALM 40

May 14, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com 1 Comment

So what does a pastor type listen to music wise as they sit in the hospital hours upon hours waiting a diagnosis? To ask it another way? What do they listen to as they sit hour upon hour as chemo drugs are pumped into their body praying that God will use the doctors and nurses as instruments of healing?

If you had a chance to look at my I-Pod you would soon realize my musical tastes fall all over the map. As a child of the 80’s I love some of the greatest music ever made…the stuff people are still “sampling” today as they work to create something “fresh”. You will also find some Benedictine Monks chanting and other quiet prayer music that helps me get quiet and still in the midst of chaos. You will also find a mixture of some of the best praise and worship music I have come across over the years…everything from the traditional hymns to native American Indian drums lifting up praise to God.

So what does this pastor type listen to over the past few weeks? Well, I have been drawn back to one of my old favorites and have spent hours listening to the music of U2. I went through all their music on my i-tunes and came up with a playlist with every song that points to God. There are many, one of my favorites is “40” (which our worship team has learned and can play very well these days!). I had “40” playing on a loop for an entire night in the hospital. There was something peaceful about it.

I have watched (via Youtube) U2 lead a stadium with tens of thousands of people in worship as the crowd joins in singing the words of Psalm 40. There is something sacred about the sound of the crowd joining with the band and then continuing after the band has left the stage. There is something universal in the cry of Psalm 40. There is something equally universal in question How Long? How long do I have to sing this song…to wait patiently before you will hear my cry and lift me up out of the pit and set my feet on solid rock?

I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry
He brought me up out of the pit
Out of the mire and clay

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song

How long to sing this song
How long to sing this song
How long, how long, how long
How long, to sing this song

He set my feet upon a rock
And made my footsteps firm
Many will see
Many will see and fear

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song

How long to sing this song
How long to sing this song
How long, how long, how long
How long, to sing this song

A few days ago I walked into Best Buy. I was there to buy headphones. As I walked up and down the aisles I was struck by two realities. As people walked past me they were totally unaware of what was going on in my world. They had no clue how upside down it was and what Nancy and I were dealing with. The second thought that hit me was how often I have walked blindly through this world past people who are struggling with issues much greater than mine. There are people all over this world, in each of our communities crying out “How long, how long, how long, how long to sing this song”. They desperately want and need to experience the grace and mercy of God at work in their lives.

Pray for the eyes of Jesus…to see people as he would.

Pray for the hears of Jesus…to hear people as he would.

Pray for the heart of Jesus…so we can move towards them in love…helping people experience peace.

If you are interested…listen to the crowd…there is greater participation than in many of our churches when we gather for worship…

“THE OLD GRAY MARE”

May 13, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com 1 Comment

It is funny what you think about. The things you remember and are brought to your mind as you go through seasons of trial and difficulty.

I only had the privilege of knowing my mothers parents. Dot and Joe Entrikin were terrific, God honoring people who lived life in a constant search of a deepening relationship with God. In my house I have my grandfathers chair and his Bible. Wh
en you went to visit them he would always be up before you were…no matter how early you got up. He would be in that chair, Bible open, reading and getting ready for a new day. Now, if truth be told the older he got you might catch him getting a “morning nap” with the Bible open on his lap. Either way it was a life lesson he taught without even speaking one word.

My grandfather had a heart attack one of the times he was visiting our family in NY. He ended up in the hospital in Albany. We all went up to visit him and we were allowed to go visit him one at a time. When it was my turn I went back and there was my grandfather talking to the nurse at his bedside. He was asking her about her relationship with God, asking if she had faith in God. The woman kept telling him to relax and lay still. She would try to put an oxygen mask on him and he would pull it off to keep talking to her. Finally I got involved and told her, “Look, he is clear on what is going to happen should he die here tonight…he is more concerned about you. If you want him to relax you need to answer his questions.” She did and then he relaxed and allowed her to do her job. Pop pulled through that night and lived for quite a time more. Watching him that night I learned what it meant to care more for others than yourself.

My grandmother was a special woman. She was the light of Joe’s world and everything he did was to ensure she was happy and provided for. Dot had sayings, a bunch of sayings. I always found them interesting and they made me laugh. One that she picked up somewhere along the line was, “The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be”. She would make a mistake, forget something which she became prone to do later in life and in a moment of clarity she realized something was not right and would simply laugh and say, “Well Daniel, the old gray mare, she just ain’t what she used to be.” She would laugh again and we would move on with life. It became her way of making light of what was a difficult transition in her life. She was not going to let a declining ability to function and think clearly rob her of the joy of life.

These past few days I have found myself speaking the words of Dot time and time again. Wednesday and Thursday brought on the first effects of chemotherapy treatments. I would sleep, eat, feel ill, sleep, get ready to do something and then realize I needed to rest some more. Yeah, the old gray mare, she just ain’t what she used to be. It made me smile thinking of my grandmother. Thinking of her laugh and the way she approached the struggles of life in her later years.

When my grandmother moved into a nursing home towards the end of her life we would go visit her on a regular basis. The first thing she would do when we showed up was show us a little sheet of paper next to her bed. On that piece of paper she kept a record off all the times she used the bathroom and exactly what she accomplished when she was in there. These “reports” mortified my mother…my brothers and I found them amusing for all the drama they created. At every doctors appointment and every conversation I have with nurses these days they always ask how I doing in the bathroom department. Every time they ask I think of my grandmothers paper by the side of her bed and it brings a smile to my face.

I am thankful for their legacy and for how even now in the midst of this journey God is using them to speak words of strength and comfort and even joy.

THE POWER OF LANGUAGE

May 10, 2016 By dnicewonger@gmail.com Leave a Comment

My NBA career began and died on a small patch of concrete behind my father’s barn in New Baltimore, NY.

When I was a young child my dad formed and poured a large pad behind the barn and mounted a rim at the exact right height on the side of the barn. The entire neighborhood would c NBALegendLogoLarge ome to play. We would divide up and then play for hours. The older I got that pad became the place I practiced, practiced and practiced…only to discern I lacked a certain quality found in most great ballers…skill.

While lacking that one key quality most junior high and high school coaches found their way my direction. It may have had something to do with the fact that I was 6’ 3” by the time I was in the 7^th grade. Each new coach thought they had found the “key to success” until our first practice and soon realized it would be a victory if they could help me improve my skills even just a little.

Well, fast forward a few years. I accept the call to be the pastor of FBC. Those who are athletic in the congregation look upon their 6’ 5” tall pastor and wonder how they can leverage all that obvious “skill” to help build our athletic program. “Hey pastor…we are going to join a new church basketball league…do you want to play?” I was excited and looking forward to the exercise and the opportunity to spend time with some of the guys from church. What took place at those games was a brutal reminder of why I did not play my senior year of high school. I could barely run up and down the court more than five or six minutes. I was out of breath, wheezing and glad when the coach let me sit on the side and cheer. It did instill within me a burning desire to get in much better shape. I joined a gym and the plan was to be ready for next season. I might be old…but I am not that old!

Last Wednesday as Nancy and I were working through the reality of my cancer diagnosis I looked at her and said, “Well, you want the good news?” “Sure” she said with one of those tones which said, not really but you are going to tell me anyway. “Well, the reason I could not play basketball was not that I am old and out of shape…it was that I have Cancer!” “All I have to do is beat this Cancer and I will be back into my previous B-ball form.” I think it is time to revive that NBA dream which died behind my father’s barn so many years ago. Watch out NBA here I come!

Nancy smiled. We both shared a moment of brevity in the midst of much turmoil and chaos and then continued on our journey to getting answers and developing a plan for treatment. Part of coming up with a plan and having a sense of peace about where we are headed had a lot to do with language. Language is important. Sometimes we don’t communicate well with those we talk to because we, or they, assume to understand the meaning behind our words when in fact we are talking past or beyond each other.

That happened with my oncologist. I like him, like him very much. From our very first meeting, the one where he shared my diagnosis, it was clear Nancy and I were his priority. He took time to listen and answer our questions…not just the ones he “assumed we would have.” During those conversations he used words like “prolong” and “quality of life”. He said, “My goal is to prolong your life, and increase your quality of life.” In the dark of night as I sat in the hospital bed those words came back to me. They are not the words I wanted to hear. In my mind those words were the ones spoken as decisions were being made about calling in hospice care. I am NOT ready for hospice care and if that was where he was headed I needed to find someone else to help treat me.

As we sat in his office last Friday I said we needed to talk about language…I needed to understand why he used words such as “prolong” and “increase quality of life”. I explained what those words brought to my mind and what in my experience they meant. He was sympathetic. He assured me we were talking past each other. As a medical doctor he was not able to honestly say there was a “cure” for my Cancer…so his goal was all about “prolonging life and increasing quality of life.” It would not be fair, or honest for him to speak any other way to Nancy and myself…this “new normal” will be with me the rest of my life. As I listened to him explain his language and why he spoke the way he did I went from being anxious and nervous to feeling supported and empowered. I need a doctor who takes language seriously. One who speaks truth and who is not afraid of using language that can be difficult to hear. I left his office excited about those words which just a few days ago made me nervous. One of his closing statements on language was this. “Today I cannot use the word ‘cure’ for your style of Cancer. Now, every day we are making great strides forward. My job is to prolong your life until the day when I can honestly use the word ‘cure’ and we can treat you that way.” Now that I can get behind!

That simple interaction has had me thinking about the importance of language and how we each bring our own experiences and backgrounds to interpret words spoken to us. How many times have I assumed to understand what someone was speaking when in truth I could not possibly fully grasp their words because we walk such different journeys? Imagine how we could improve the quality of our communication if we took the time to stop, ask questions and truly listen to what each other was saying. It is more difficult than jumping to conclusions, requires us to be honest with ourselves and others…but the opportunities for transformation and growth are amazing. Here is to learning to listen to those whom God has brought into our lives.

Today (Tuesday) was the first day after Chemotherapy. I was tired. I am continuing to to get treatments via a pump until 2:30 pm tomorrow. I rested in the morning, made it into the office later in day and did some small paperwork to help take my mind off of things. I had the chance to talk with many friends and it is always good to be around church when the AA community is making their way in and out of the building…we have built such good relationships.

Tomorrow is quiet day of rest and study at home. Later in the evening we have a special service of worship and prayer that I will attend if I am feeling rested and strong.

I am slowly beginning to work towards a defining my “new normal”.

Thanks for all your prayers.