Most nights between about 8-9 pm I spend an hour walking laps around 3rd floor of the Roach Building. It’s essential to get exercise to help my body recover. On some days I’m slower than others, like Saturday night, but doing something is better than nothing. I started walking in the mornings when I first got here, but I kept getting ran over by the laundry carts. It’s much safer to walk at night. Last night, I was able to unhook Fred the IV Pole from my arm and walk outside. What a blessing.
This has quickly become one of my favorite times of the day. It’s a great opportunity to be “alone” with my thoughts and get out of my room. I usually start off with listening to a podcast on my iPhone. My favorites right now are sermons by Andy Stanley from North Point Ministries in Atlanta.
After the podcast is over, I’ll usually transition to some good music on Spotify. This is when it really gets fun. I’ve been listening to Britt Nicole lately, and one of my favorite songs is “All This Time.”
“Ever since that day, it’s been clear to me that no matter what comes, You will never leave…”
I see all the nurses and staff as I make the minute-and-a-half lap around the floor. They’re used to seeing me now and always offer words of encouragement. A smile from them puts a little more swagger in my step.
“All this time, from the first tear cried, ‘Till today’s sunrise and every single moment between, You were there…”
I see other patients and family members, too. The other day I struck up a conversation with another cancer patient who knew my wife’s family. Small world. We offered each other encouragement and burned some laps together.
Another smile, a little more swagger.
I cry at least two times per walk, minimum. That’s not easy to admit. They’re almost always tears of thanksgiving, though. Despite this disease, I am reminded of how blessed I am as I pass other patients who are sicker than me, as I think about my girls, and as I dream about my wife and getting home.
“You’ve been walking with me all this time…”
I’m also in training. My “comeback run”, Lord willing, is the Warrior Dash in August. I can’t expect to put up a decent showing if I don’t maintain some semblance of a training regimen. Maybe that’s a little selfish, but I need a goal to work towards. My doctor tells me that’s a little too ambitious, and maybe a race in the fall is more appropriate. We’ll see…
“Ever since the first tear cried. It was You, You and I, You’ve been walking with me all this time.”
I usually walk by myself, but I am never alone. Jesus has walked in my steps and knows exactly what I’m going through. He became a man and felt worse emotional and physical pain than I could ever fathom. He did it for me even though I deserved nothing.
Surviving cancer is a worthy goal, but it’s not enough. How I walk the walk matters. Every lap, whether it’s a literal walk around the floor or another round of chemotherapy, must have the purpose of glorifying God. The same is true for all of us. Whether today is just another day at work or the most important day of your life, how you walk the lap matters. Live on purpose.
Question for you: How can you live on purpose today?
Jeff, I grew up with Christi’s family in Cincinnati. Your blog blesses me more than I can express. Thank you for your faith! Praying for you and your family!
Sir,
I haven’t known what to say since first learning of the challenges you’re up against. Even before daring to check-in on your blog, I knew that your wisdom, fortitude, and faith in Christ would punch me in the gut – reminding me of my weakness and frailty. I’m spared the wrath of cancer though eaten up with my own selfishness, anger, and frustration with God. He has never been anything but merciful to me, yet I refuse to let him back in my life for fear of what he will do. His justice has a way of turning my life completely upside down.
Rather than facing the truth of his word, I have spent these last few years trying to find any other reason to live… to have purpose. It is a fruitless pursuit that has left tragedy and regret in its wake. As I watched my own father die of cancer this time last year I thought, “How is it that God can fearfully and wonderfully make us… then let us wilt away without dignity… without purpose?” I still don’t know the answer. Anger and a ruthless quick temper have taken the place of any contentedness I may have ever known.
Though I know God’s word to be true, and His love to be unending, I simply don’t see a way past my hardened heart. Transparency and tenderness have been supplanted by pride and fear. Perhaps it is wrong of me to write these thoughts in the midst of your own trial. I share only because I get the sense that you will read this and take encouragement in knowing that my own tears are reminding me that He has something better… even if the road is riddled with trials.
Know that your strength and wisdom are an example of how love and openness can shine in the darkness. Swagger on…
First, thanks for being so honest. I’ve been thinking all week about how to respond to your comment. The thing that I keep coming back to is that we cannot change our own hearts, only Jesus can. We have to be willing, but he is the one who will change us. If you ever want to talk about it, call or come by. I have plenty of time. 🙂
Jeff I am praying for you and your family. May God put his loving, healing hands on you.