When the News Isn't Good

My grandson, who always helps me smile

Cancer. That was the word I heard from the respiratory doctor two weeks before the urologist asked, “May I speak straight?” When we gave permission, he bluntly declared, “You have kidney cancer.” A few minutes later after we’d agreed on laparoscopic surgery to remove the kidney, he continued—just as bluntly—“Good. You have so much belly fat, I’d have trouble cutting through it all if you chose open surgery!” (Yes, I laughed, but I shot daggers at him with my eyes. It was okay for him to be straight about my cancer, but definitely not about my fat, belly or otherwise.)

After the news, we prayed we’d be in the 10% of people who find out that, contrary to a doctor’s preliminary diagnosis by sight, the tumor isn’t cancerous. But I was in the other 90%.

The next step was the pathology. For the next two weeks, we prayed—along with family and loved ones around the world—that the pathology report would not show a “bad” cancer. (Is there such a thing as a good cancer?) But on April 22, the doctor announced the unwelcome news: although I was now cancer free, as far as he could tell, the cancer that had been removed was a cancer with high rates of metastasis. “I wish we’d caught it sooner,” Dr. Morita said with regret in his voice. There was no joking around in this visit, no talk of belly fat, just the facts. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of his sails.

But there was good news, too. My blood levels were nearly perfect, surprising the doctor greatly. Additionally, my energy level was the best it had been in months, the incision was nearly completely healed, and I was the picture of health, Dr. Morita commented—except that a highly metastic cancer had been taken from me.

My next step is a combination PET/CT scan that will be done here in Tokyo on May 8. Bernie and I will then travel to the States carrying those films, a CD-Rom of all the test results from everything that has been done so far, and even the microscope slides from the pathology, on loan from the hospital here. I am absolutely amazed at the cooperation we’ve received in helping us seek a second opinion (in English—everything so far has been in Japanese). Assuming there is no metastasis at this time, we will return to Japan and I will begin a lifetime monitoring/maintenance program. However, if there are signs that cancer has found a new home in my body, I’ll begin drug therapy in Indiana with the goal of transferring my regimen back to Japan as soon as possible. With that treatment completed, I will enter a maintenance program here.

Obviously, where we are today in thinking and planning is not where I wanted to be when I wrote the last blog. So what do you do when the news isn’t good? This question popped into my mind as I lay in bed two nights after G-3 first became part of a new vocabulary of medical words I never knew before. How grateful I am for the answer that came instantaneously in the form of the title of the thirteenth book of international stories I complied and edited just last year: Yet, I Will Rejoice.

The Old Testament prophet Habakkuk declared, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are not grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (Habakkuk 3:17-18, emphasis added).

Contemplating Habakkuk’s words, I realize that life’s circumstances change daily. Sometimes this means that the news we receive isn’t what we’d hoped for—sometimes it is even downright bad. But bad news doesn’t change God. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8) and he has promised never to leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). Therefore, I will rejoice! Even when the news isn't good.

Telltale Signs

After surgery, visiting a lovely Japanese park with my sister--

following doctor's orders for a daily walk

The coughing started sometime last September. Not that it was any big deal. When I talked with the doctor about it as a precautionary measure in October, I could only estimate when it began. “It’s probably allergies,” he responded easily after listening to my lungs, looking in my throat and ears, and noting that Indiana was in the vice-like grip of an especially horrible season for allergy sufferers. Since Bernie and I were headed out to visit churches in Colorado and Oregon, he added, “It’ll probably clear up when you get out of Indiana.”

Only it didn’t. As we looked at returning to Japan in November, following our three-month home assignment, I visited the doctor again. Although the doctor still was not concerned about the coughing, he agreed that treating me more aggressively could eliminate the increasingly aggravating cough and at least ease my mind. He prescribed a heavy-duty cough syrup that brought on a spasm of uncontrolled coughing when I saw the price, gave me an inhaler to sample in case this was asthma related, and ordered an x-ray of my lungs. I was satisfied and happy when the x-ray was clear, and I returned to Japan confident that everything was fine, even though both the syrup and the inhaler did nothing to alleviate my coughing.

In fact, the bouts of coughing were becoming more frequent. In December, they were joined by heaviness in my chest—at times, pain—when I exerted myself to walk up a hill. Gradually, my energy began to flag as well until the January day I began crying as I spoke with my father on the telephone. “Dad, I’m just so tired,” I admitted to him. “I can’t seem to do anything without resting, and I don’t have time for these daily naps and this lack of energy. I’ve got two book deadlines on me, and I’ve just got to keep going.”

What would a girl do without her father—even a girl as old as I am? I’ve been married 33 years to a wonderful, loving, and caring husband, have been blessed with two children of my own, and love to “talk” with my 15-month-old grandson nearly daily via Skype. But at that moment, it was my dad who picked me up, brushed away my tears, prayed for me, and comforted me as all loving daddies do when their little girls trip and fall down. Never mind that he was half a world away in the United States.

But still the coughing didn’t stop. Finally, when the books were off to the publisher, I began a month of weekly visits to a respiratory doctor. Gradually, using x-rays, strong antibiotics, and bronchial patches, he eliminated all the usual: pneumonia, bronchitis, whopping cough (making a resurgence here), and asthma. Yet the coughing continued. In fact, it was getting worse even as my energy was dangerously low. Blood work showed anemia and a highly elevated CRP (C reactive protein, whatever that is). Something was definitely wrong, but all we could see were telltale signs. Two weeks before a sonogram of my left kidney finally brought the diagnosis, Dr. Yamamoto told me carefully, “I think we are dealing with something very difficult.” In Japan, where the word cancer can hardly be whispered for the impact it carries, I realized immediately what he was suggesting: there was a strong possibility that we were dealing with the dreaded disease.

Today, two weeks after my hospitalization, I am at home resting, less one kidney, and awaiting the pathology report in three days. Amazingly, my coughing ceased the day after the surgery (and maybe even sooner, but I don’t remember much about my recovery time in ICU); I no longer pant when walking up the slight inclines Tokyoites call hills (there’s a reason this area is referred to as the Kanto Plains); and my energy level is returning (hence the fact that I’m at the computer to begin to unravel some of the jumbled and even incoherent thoughts that crowd my head).

Although the untangling of my mind and heart is going to take a while, I’ve already exceeded my self-imposed one-page blog limit. So for today, I’ll let it go at this: I am overflowing with gratitude for telltale signs that led me to a good doctor and a good hospital and for the amazing care that I received there. But most of all, I have been buoyed on the wings of the love of friends and family—and especially the family of God—from all over the world. I am speechless with wonder for I know I have done nothing to deserve this outpouring of love. In fact, as the emotions well up in my heart, I realize I have seen the invisible God. His name is Love (1 John 4:8).

But Take Heart!

Bernie presents a diploma to a graduating Tamagawa Seigakuin student

Words of encouragement
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Some of you have read our recent electronic “Call to Prayer” for Eriko and Wangyal. Others of you have received e-mails or letters regarding some instances of spiritual warfare confronting us and Tarumi Church. In more private e-mails, some of you are aware of some health difficulties Cheryl has been facing since last fall (a nagging cough and, of late, a lack of energy). It’s not difficult to figure out that these words of encouragement have meant much to us over the past few months.

They are such powerful words and speak to every difficult situation. Therefore, Bernie recently chose “But Take Heart!” as the theme for Tamagawa Seigakuin as it begins its new school year in April. We pray that these words of encouragement will also speak to you in your own situation. Among our prayer partners, we are aware of supporting churches facing great financial difficulties; of pastoral searches that seem to yield no results; of significant health concerns; of prayers that have been voiced for years but have yet to be answered; of deep discouragement and great tiredness; and more. Please know that we are praying for you, even as you pray for us.

How to pray specifically
In addition to the prayer concerns we have shared recently, especially the “Immediate and Continuing Prayer Concerns” of November, we would ask you to pray about these:

►Resumption of small study group—Because of some all-consuming writing projects, Cheryl two years ago stopped leading a study group for Japanese Christian women. Although they continued meeting for a little while, the group eventually decided to take a break until Cheryl could rejoin them. On February 24, we will begin our study of Philip Yancey’s book, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? Please pray for this group and its nearly weekly Tuesday meeting. We are all seeking a deepening walk with the Lord.

►Tamagawa Seigakuin high school graduation—On March 16, Bernie will have the privilege of speaking before 177 graduating seniors, their parents, faculty, staff, current second year high schoolers (so they’ll know what to expect when they graduate next year), and others at the 59th graduation exercises of this Christian mission school where he serves as headmaster. Needless to say, this is a significant opportunity to share the gospel and to challenge the graduates to remember what they’ve learned during their Tama Sei careers. Please pray that the Lord will empower him with words that are truly the “Bread of Life.”

►Spring staff retreat—Our missionary staff in Japan will gather in the mountains March 24-26 for our annual retreat. We’ll do a little business, but mostly our time together is for renewal. Pray that we will indeed be refreshed as we enjoy this time, despite the fact that we have no special leader this year.

►Missionary staffing needs—For whatever reason(s), it seems that recruiting for missionaries is an increasingly difficult task. We are so grateful to Riverchase Community Church in Birmingham, Alabama, for releasing their children’s pastor, Christy Snowden Van Dam, and her family to come to Tokyo for ten weeks from January into March in order to help fill a special assignment missionary (SAM) position with several pre-schools and one of our congregations. (Christy and Terence formerly were SAMs in this very position, so it has been a kind of homecoming for them to return, along with their three sons: Willem, Tai, and Xavier.) But the family returns to Alabama on March 22, after which we have no one to fill this long-standing SAM position. Needless to say, there is great concern and discouragement on this side of the Pacific Ocean. Please pray with us that the Lord will provide the right individual at the right time (which, from our perspective, is NOW) to serve this two-year term in Tokyo.

Answers to prayer
Thank you for praying for Cheryl in her writing assignments. Currently, Into All the World: A Century of Church of God Missions is in the final production stages before going to press. This 500-page volume that combines a revised reprinting of Lester Crose’s Passport for a Reformation with three chapters, many appendices, and other materials gathered and/or written by Cheryl and her father, Donald Johnson, will be off the press by North American Convention in June. Additionally, we’re happy to report that Cheryl did make her deadline for River of Delights, the 2009 international testimonies book—the 14th in this series of books that she has written. God is so good!

On Accidents, Baseball, and Curses

Exhuberant Hanshin Tigers fans in action

Sometimes there are little mistakes; sometimes there are fatal ones. Bernie nearly made a fatal one years ago when we were living in Saga. Our bathroom was in the back part of a building we didn’t live in. To access it, we had to cross a covered breezeway and enter what had once been the back door of a house—an old, wooden, drafty Japanese house. Needless to say, it could be a shockingly cold adventure to take a bath or use the toilet in the wintertime. (By the way, to add insult to injury, our toilet was the pit variety. Winter was frigid, but the smells of summertime were even worse.)

One morning, when Bernie went to shower and shave, he discovered that water had frozen inside the instant hot water heater above the sink. So he turned on the gas burner for a few seconds and then turned it off again before repeating the procedure several times. His hope was that the freeze would gradually thaw, clearing the pipe and allowing hot water to emerge. It was perhaps a nice idea, but it didn’t work. Without warning, an explosion shook our small apartment across the breezeway. Momentarily, a visibly stunned Bernie stumbled into our entryway. The build-up of steam had blown the pipe off the bottom of the heater. A fatal accident was averted when the flying projectile narrowly missed striking Bernie’s head. Nevertheless, the force of the explosion blew Bernie out of the bathroom, leaving him deafened for several minutes. Even today, when I think about it, I shudder at how easily I could have been widowed that day.

Actually, Bernie made another one other near-fatal mistake during our Saga days. While fatalities are a common outcome of explosions, we were totally unprepared to discover that something as simple as wearing the wrong baseball cap might be fatal.

It was perhaps our first visit to the Kansai district of central Japan from the southern island of Kyushu, where Saga is located. My hat-of-all-kinds-loving husband was wearing a Tokyo Giants black cap decorated with distinctive orange-colored lettering and logo. He’d purchased it shortly after we arrived in Japan, perhaps hoping for some point of connection with a culture that had been, up to then, entirely foreign to him. But he loved hats and he loved baseball. This was a good combination for making relationships in a new country where, we were to learn, baseball may be more popular than sumo, the traditional national sport of Japan. But he didn’t know that you take your life into your hands when you wear a Tokyo Giants cap in Hanshin Tigers country: the Kansai.

“You should take off that cap,” a woman helping host our visit in the area said to him bluntly, almost skipping over the mandatory and generally protracted greetings for which Japanese are famous.

Bernie thought she was joking and returned a joke in kind. The only thing was that this woman was serious—dead serious, as in Bernie was going to be dead if he didn’t take her advice seriously! We were brand new to Japan and knew little of the language other than some words of greeting. Perhaps she forgave him for not understanding her order and, consequently, for not obeying. But for whatever reason, Bernie managed to keep both his cap and his life. Nevertheless, when we moved to the Kansai six years later, he stored the Tokyo Giants cap. In the meantime, he’d learned of the rabid nature of Hanshin Tigers fans and that this woman, as unusual as she was, really couldn’t be counted as being among the most lunatic of Hanshin supporters in the area—and there are many.

Still, were she alive today, I believe that Maetani-san would be among a passionate group of loyalists in Osaka that is determined to wipe out the “Curse of Colonel Sanders.” According to the newspaper, two sections of a life-sized plastic statue of the founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken were salvaged from the bottom of the Dotonbori River earlier this week. Twenty-four years ago, overly exuberant Hanshin fans kidnapped the statue from a local Kentucky Fried Chicken establishment and threw it into the river as they celebrated the Tigers’ Central League pennant victory in 1985. Much to their delight, their beloved team went on to capture the Japan Series that year (equivalent to winning America’s World Series). Apparently Colonel Sanders was not amused, however. The fact that the Tigers have failed to win the Japan Series since then has given rise to “the curse” theory. Now that the Colonel is back in his rightful place, Hanshin Tigers fans—eternally hopeful anyway—believe that this year may be/will be/must be their year.

I’m not really a baseball fan, but as Japan’s baseball season opens shortly, I’m going to keep one eye on the Tigers and one eye on Bernie. Though he doesn’t have a history of making near-fatal mistakes, I’m not eager for him to start any new habits in 2009.

More for March

A well kept family grave plot in a Buddhist temple near our home

More for March? More of what? I can hear your brains working and see your furrowed brows. Be perplexed no longer. As in February we shared some Fun Facts for the month, we have More for March in today’s blog.

First in the month, on March 3, is Hina Matsuri (in English, Doll’s Festival). Also known as Girls’ Day, this celebration honors daughters. Elaborate, kimono-clad ornamental dolls representing the Emperor and Empress and their court are displayed in tiers with prayers for girls’ health and happiness. Often grandparents purchase these extremely expensive doll sets upon the birth of a granddaughter or at least in time for her first birthday. (As an aside, unlike Boys’ Day in May, Girls’ Day is not a national holiday.)

White Day on March 14 is the male counterpart to Valentine’s Day. On White Day, men are supposed to return to women white chocolates and other white candies in appreciation for the Valentine’s chocolates they were given a month earlier. Some cynics say this was concocted in the 1970s by scheming candy makers looking for ways to increase sales. Could be. After all, we hear that with automobile sales plummeting in the United States, car dealers are offering all kinds of amazing incentives to potential customers—almost anything for a sale.

March 20 will be remembered in a much more serious way than White Day is observed—if it is observed. (It hasn’t quite taken root like Valentine’s Day.) This year marks the fourteenth anniversary of the sarin nerve gas attack on five Tokyo subway trains during the morning rush hour of March 20, 1995. Twelve people were killed and thousands were injured (some of whom are still in comas or remain completely debilitated). Shoko Asahara, leader of the Aum Shinrikyo cult, is on death row and awaiting the sentence to be carried out for these crimes that shocked the nation to its core—and, I might add, resulted in a profound suspicion about religion of all kinds in the hearts and minds of not a few Japanese.

Spring Equinox Day also falls on March 20. The most important obligation for this national holiday is that people clean up their family graves, even if this means traveling considerable distance. Generally, these graves are small plots with black or gray granite stone markers into which all names of the persons whose ashes are interred are carved. Sometimes as many as ten names appear on a single marker. When the markers are washed, grass clipped, and fresh cut flowers arranged in vases at the gravesite, a black-robed Buddhist priest arrives to recite okyou, sutras to the dead, while incense is burned. It is said that the length and elaborateness of the chanting depends upon the amount of money a family is willing to pay for the priest’s services. While there are many devout Buddhists who also keep their ancestors’ memories alive at their home butsudan (family altar), this obligatory visit to the family grave on March 20 fulfills one-third of the year’s minimum requirements for Japanese Buddhists. Wilted flowers will be left in vases until a windy day carries them away, until the biggest annual Buddhist festival called Obon in August, or perhaps until Fall Equinox Day in September.

From my perspective, however, March 20 signals that the cherry blossom-viewing season is just around the corner. And with that, spring is indeed on its way to Japan.