Leadership and Spirituality

Prepare to Die—Part II

Can’t help but start today’s post with the most famous quotation from Princess Bride (with heavy Spanish accent): “Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” He gives that warning several times in the classic movie, enough for the viewer to know that nobody is actually going to die any time soon. But the line cracks my funny bone. I am serious today, however, when I say, “Prepare to die.” I am going to die. You are going to die. It may not be anytime soon . . . [Just for the record, my progress […]

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Nothing, and Everything, to Lose

In my last post, I observed that the religiously allergic around us need a winsome witness to the gospel and that we must enter into the sort of discipleship practices that will help us give it. Perhaps my readers have had a chance to think about their own resistance to this calling, and in order to do that thoroughly it is wise to count the cost and face it head-on. When we do so, the cost loses its deterrent power over us and puts us into a position to see the mighty hand of God at work in and through

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Spurring One Another On

Cancer treatment varies depending on the type and stage of one’s particular disease. The protocols tend to be repetitive and cyclical. In my case, chemotherapy runs on a four-week cycle:  one week plus one day “on,” and the remainder of the four weeks “off,” recovering. By the time Week Four rolls around, I am feeling pretty good, almost normal! This is one of those weeks, and I am getting a lot of things done around the house as a result. I’ve been through two complete rounds, and Round Three of chemo begins next Monday. I can pretty much plan on

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The Tenth Day of Christmas: Two Old Saints Made Happy

Every once in awhile, especially at night, a thought crosses my mind that perhaps I am living the last year or two of my life. I try not to think about this too much, not because I am in denial about the dangers of my disease, but because it gets me in a place that is counterproductive. I’ll be writing more about this after Christmastide is over. But it does raise the concept of a “bucket list,” a term coined by a 2007 movie of that name, staring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. These two hospital roommates bust out of

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The Seventh Day of Christmas: A King Blinded by Pride

It is a Naegeli family tradition on New Year’s Eve to pass the hours between dinner and midnight by watching the 1995 A & E version of Pride and Prejudice. It never ceases to delight and vex, and we have our favorite lines to recite from memory as they pop up in the course of the five-hour-fifteen-minute presentation. If we plan it just right, the wedding bells begin to ring right on the stroke of midnight; great fun. The two main characters struggle with communication-choking predispositions:  Mr. Darcy (Colin Firth) is a sulking, prideful man who is fixated on class

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A Long Obedience in a [Tedious] Direction

The early excitement of entering into treatment for lung cancer has worn off, though the fire burns steady and bright in my spirit. This week I entered Round 2 of chemotherapy (all the while continuing with daily radiation), and there is nothing new to report. Dare I say it? I have the routine down now, and without any drama or new happenings or side effects of note (!), I have been grasping for ideas to write about! Is it true for you, too, that life’s routine puts you in a pattern of activity and behavior that isn’t very exciting? Perhaps

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“You’ve Got a Friend”

It was inevitable and necessary that I shave off my locks, to cut short the mess and discomfort of a tingly head and hairy shirt collars. When I told my friends the plan, one of them, Sandi, piped up, “I will shave my head, too. What time should I come over?” Astounded at the idea, and concerned for her welfare in winter, I tried to talk her out of it, but she was resolute. So at 8 p.m. last night, Sandi and Jim came cheerfully knocking at our door, and out came the hair clippers. By 9:30 we were both

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Making Things Happen vs. Letting Things Happen

Right on schedule, my hair started falling out this week in response to the chemotherapy onslaught. Once again, I experienced that loss of control over something as simple as grooming. It has not been upsetting—how I thank the wonderful staff at the cancer center for good preparation—in fact, I broke out in laughter as hair cascaded down my back in the shower. It was as if I were washing away my mane; what an exercise in futility! There are all sorts of directions I could go with this, but I think today I am going to reflect on a concept

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Collateral Damage

The treatment for a lung cancer like mine is aggressive and hard-hitting. In my case, it involves both chemotherapy and radiation, designed first to shrink the tumor to a size that can be excised safely and also to kill any rogue cells that might be tempted to migrate through my body to make more mischief. The medicines in my chemo infusions have a proven track record, and the treatment protocol between now and surgery is non-controversial. But the regimen is tough on the body because of a reality known as collateral damage. Collateral damage is the harm done to healthy

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Thinking Outside the Pool

As yesterday progressed, I enjoyed more strength and energy than I have experienced in a few weeks. Feeling better surprised me! A sunny, lovely day beckoned me outside. In response to Andy’s request “if I was up to it,” I watered our orange trees as insurance against an expected overnight freeze. Two weeks ago, a slow stroll out to the fig tree was enough exercise to put me down for a nap afterwards. This week, I have been able to walk all the way around our block, almost ¾ mile, and still be functional afterwards. I am coughing very little

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