January 30th, 2010
A Very Post Post-Script
I just finished importing all the Jelly Belly Journal entries from our original church website to this new site, and felt I should give an update for those who had the fortitude to read through all the previous entries, and particularly for those who read the last one over a year ago and just might be wondering how things have gone since.
I was instructed by the good Dr. Holtzman to have a CT scan every three months during the first year after my surgery to monitor my progress and watch for any gelatinous recurrences. Therefore, because of my utter loathing of such procedures, I got my first scan in August of 2009. Fifteen months after the surgery. And boy did I save a ton of money!
Very thankfully, the scan was clear with no sign of any return of the dreaded PMP. Yes, I know it was careless and irresponsible to wait fifteen months to get the scan when the doctor told me to do it every three months. But boy did I save a ton of money!
Anyway, in a few months, it will be two years since the surgery. Seems like it was only yesterday, or the day before at most. Memories of the week spent in Pittsburgh still to this day, cause me to pause and pray that I never have to go back for any reason whatsoever. Not for a check-up. Not for a baseball game. Nothing.
While the Lord was abundantly kind in delivering me (at least thus far) from that miserable disease and the even more wretched procedure to fix it, the remembrance of the experience is still produces long sighs, moments of silent contemplation, and vows to do things differently if I ever need to return for a repeat performance. Somehow we're going to figure out a way to get a tube into my stomach without running it up my nose and down my throat. There's got to be a way.
The perpetual possibility of another bout of Jelly Belly on the back burner of my mind tends to flavor my thinking constantly. On the one hand, I am pert near thrilled to death to feel as good as I do. I now have nearly zero residual adverse effects from the surgery. That was a long time coming, but it finally arrived and I am grateful to the Lord for it. It feels good to feel good.
On the other hand, I am somewhat fearful of getting too comfortable with feeling good. I don't want to say I'm completely healed because I don't actually know that. But even if I am completely delivered from PMP, what else lurks about that is debilitating or deadly? Just because I don't have PMP any longer doesn't mean I won't get Alzheimer's or any of those other diseases whose names I can't remember. I'm nearly 54 years old. What kinds of medical dangers lie in wait during the next ten, fifteen, or twenty years, assuming I'll be around that long? I haven't got a clue. Lazarus died twice, you know.
So what should I do? How does one cope with the ignorance of one's own physical condition? Of one's own medical future? How do I live day after day, knowing that any day I could be heading back west to Steel Town for yet another not-even-leisurely stroll through the surgical unit at UPMC? I confess, the possibility of that makes me a tad nervous even now. Or is it a probability?
The Lord knows.
And that should be enough. Knowing that God has plans to finish what He started in me when He called me to Himself way back in high school, that knowledge should be, and is a constant comfort. It isn't enough to banish every inclination to be fearful, or at least it hasn't done so for me. But it does impart a real sense of peace. A good God is at work, and I can trust Him to shepherd his weak and fearful sheep all the way home to the fold.
I have come to the conclusion that Psalm 23 has been declared by someone to be the official, standard scripture passage for funerals. It never fails. It is ALWAYS read during funeral services. So it takes some effort to hear it and understand it in any context other than death. Obviously, it is because of the phrase about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. That puts a spin on the entire Psalm, especially when I'm in a crowd gathered around a casket. It's tough to hear it in any flavor other than moroseness.
But when I muster what little mental horsepower I have to consider it as it is, apart from the standard superimposed funereal context, the 23rd Psalm is beautiful indeed! I'm a sheep. Dependent, defenseless, not particularly bright. Jesus is my shepherd. Praise God, I belong in His fold! My Shepherd IS particularly bright, and in more ways than one. He has taken the task upon Himself to be my good Shepherd. Consequently, as His sheep, I will never lack anything I truly need. He will see to it that I am fed and led and protected and loved. He is even the Shepherd of my soul. "He restores my soul." He restores it. The word basically means, "to bring back".
The Lord Jesus has brought me back, both physically and spiritually, from a very rocky valley that had seriously shadowy overtones. He ministered to me, both in body and in soul, and restored me. He has caused me to return from a journey I really didn't want to take. But in taking that journey, I have experienced what it means to have my very soul restored. I have hope. I am grateful to God for His care for me. I love Him and thank Him for shepherding me through such an awful experience. Now, I'm enjoying some green pastureland and the still, quiet waters He has led me to for a time.
But I'm confident it won't be this way for too long. Living in this world has its dangers, toils, and snares for us sheep. What a comfort to know our Shepherd goes before us, leading us in the way we should go, determined to guide us into ultimately becoming like Him.
So that's it. Life is back to fairly normal. No doctor's visits or CT scans or anything else of a medical nature is scheduled and I hope to keep it that way for as long as possible. But the Good Shepherd no doubt has more challenges ahead. Sharon and I are becoming more and more involved with Deaf ministry through To Every Tribe Ministries in Mexico. I am on the board of directors and in my second year as vice president at the local pregnancy resource clinic, A Woman's Concern. I'm also involved in our local SBC Keystone Baptist Association as a Church Strengthening Leader for several churches in our area. And Grace Fellowship, as you know, continues to meet and work to reach our little community of Pine Grove Mills with the Gospel.
I do not know what the Lord Jesus has in store for me in detail. But I do know I can trust Him in it, whatever those details may be or what they may involve. I am delighted to be one of His sheep! Thank you, Lord, for your constant kindness to me. I look forward to dwelling in Your house forever.
Grace and peace,
Keith
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From Grace Gems
My Shepherd!
(J. R. Miller "Bethlehem to Olivet" 1905)
"The LORD is my shepherd; I have everything I need!" Psalm 23:1
The shepherd is a favorite Scriptural picture of the divine love and care. In the Old Testament, the twenty-third Psalm gathers the whole wonderful truth in exquisite lines, which are dear to young and old wherever the Bible is known. Then in the New Testament, when our Lord would give His friends the sweetest revealings of His heart toward them, and tell them what they are to Him, and what He would be to them—He says, "I am the Good Shepherd."
The Hebrew shepherd lives with his sheep. If they are out in the storm—he is with them. If they are exposed to danger—so is he. Just so, Christ lives with His people. He enters into closest relations with them.
The shepherd knows his sheep. He has a name for each one and calls them all by their names. Just so, Christ knows each one of His friends, has intimate personal knowledge of each one. He knows the best in us—and also the worst—our faults, our sins, our wanderings. Yet, knowing us as we are—He loves us still and never wearies of us!
The shepherd is most gentle with his sheep. He does not drive them—but goes before them and leads them. When they need rest on the way—he makes them lie down, and chooses for their resting-place, not the dusty road—but green pastures. He is especially kind to the lambs, gathers them in his arms and carries them in his bosom. All this is an exquisite picture of the gentleness of our Good Shepherd in His care of His sheep. He is thoughtful toward the weak. He loves the lambs and makes room for them on His bosom. Whatever the need is, there is something in the heart of Christ which meets its craving and supplies its lack!
The shepherd defends his flock in all danger. Often he had to risk his own safety, even his life, in protecting his sheep. Just so, the Good Shepherd gives His life—for His sheep!
Christ's sheep are absolutely safe in His keeping. "I give unto them eternal life," He said; "and they will never perish—ever! No one will snatch them out of My hand!" Then at last, He will bring His own all safely home, "and they shall become one flock—with one Shepherd!"
