Strength From Beyond

For more than a year our church family has been praying for the 8-year-old niece of our own, Steve King. Beth had been diagnosed with cancer, and through various treatments we lent what support we could to Steve and Tammy, and we held a beautiful girl in the light of God, praying with Beth in our thoughts. We had all celebrated a notice of remission. Then came bad news. And after a few difficult weeks for those who love her, even worse news: the hand and forearm where the cancer had returned would have to be removed. That surgery is coming next Tuesday -- and Beth and her family will again be in our hearts, on our minds.

I asked permission of Beth's mother, Lisa, to share a reflection that she wrote, which Tammy had passed on to many of us. I was touched by the incredible strength of a mother and a young child, by a "strength from beyond" which came to me in these words (from beyond), which lifts us all, in moments of great need.

Thank you, Beth, for teaching us all, from your great strength. And thanks be to God for that strength that comes, from a place we cannot name, to touch the deepest moments of our pain. Our prayers go with Beth for next Tuesday...

***

Last Friday, my family gathered in a doctor's office at Aflac Cancer Center, where my three children were told that Beth's cancer was indeed back. They were then told that Beth's hand would need to be removed in order to remove the cancer. Of course, I knew ahead of time, what was going to be discussed. My children did not. I sat beside my daughter and braced for the tears, the anger, the terror. I watched as her cheeks began to flush, I held her hand as she reached for me. I stood and put my arm around her waist even as she wrapped her arm around my neck and drew my cheek to hers. I was scared to look her in the eye - I was scared what I would find.

When I met her eyes, what I found there was God.

I have always been a very logical, passive and unemotional Christian. I have come to my Faith through a lifetime of increasing awareness - baby steps leading me down my path. I have always wanted to experience an uncontainable encounter with the Holy Spirit - one that would send me crying or dancing to the alter - one that would forever banish any tiny crumb of doubt that creeps into the heart of most Christians at some time or another.

Last Friday, that all changed. I was near vomitting as I waited for the breakdown of my children that I knew was coming. This is what happened instead....

Garett walked to me and took my hands. He asked me if I was going to cry, I told him no, and he looked at me and said that we were going to be OK. He sat back down and began to ask questions of the doctors. Becky came and stood silently by her twin sister, as if to pass her strength onto Beth and to take some of her pain onto herself. And, as for Beth, the "star" of this show, when she finally looked at me, there was this peace and calmness to her that was not her own. She held me as much as I was holding her. She listened and accepted what was being told to her. She asked questions about what she would be able to do with her replacement hand, she asked if she would need chemo, she asked if she could still have a hamster. She asked if she could still have a hamster. A hamster.

Garrett told me that Luke Skywalker had a replacement hand and that he was the best Jedi Knight ever. Beth told the doctor's that she had a talent show to perform in and needed to be out of the hospital for that. Becky just said that her sister was cool and always would be. Two doctors a nurse practitioner and a child life specialtist were poised in that room for damage control and counseling. Two doctors, a nurse practitioner, a child life specialist and two parents were taught a lesson by two eight year olds, a nine year old and the presence of the Holy Spirit.

I have said before, that first Beth heals us, then we set about healing her. How profound that small statement was. Beth has made only one request since last Friday. She has asked that we remove the cast on her arm a day before the surgery. She wants to "spend some time with her arm before she loses it". So for those who think she does not understand what is going to happen, she understands better than any of us. She will lose nothing that God or any of her family cherish about her. She will lose a diseased part of her body - her soul and her spirit shine brighter than ever.

By the way, this weekend we spent time with my childhood best friend and her daughter, we saw the Justin Beiber movie (Beth made plans to marry him) and we looked at hamster cages. Beth's cast will be removed next Monday. Beth's forearm will be removed on Tuesday. Any of my lingering spiritual doubts were removed last Friday. What is precious in Beth, what is precious in ALL OF US, can never be removed.

I pray that the Grace that God has given to Beth spread like wildfire to all of us. That His peace be with us and that His strength be in my little girl as she begins her walk down the path that God has chosen for her.

***

May it be so!

G-7b5, C7b9, F-7, Bb7, Ebmaj7

It’s easily in my top ten things to do. Things that make my blood flow. That speak to me of the goodness of life. Of the sacred wonder of creation. Of the mystery we call Incarnation (God-with-us). I’d be afraid to try to prioritize, but it would rank somewhere in there with a crystal-glass lake at dusk and the thrill of feeling your toes just above that surface, skimming at almost 40 mph… somewhere in there with a snowy, fresh-powder day, chasing two boys in and out of snow-covered pines… somewhere in there with the smell of fresh-shaven wood chips, a finished product emerging under sandpaper and a coat of polyurethane… somewhere in there with the taste of home cooked food, a gathering around a table, the natural conversation that flows among friends, and the Spirit which that setting evokes. I wouldn’t want to prioritize, but it’s in there.

The first time I played in a jazz band, I was a would-be trumpet player. A band friend had initiated me with several invitations to community concerts. Benny Goodman, the Count, Woody Herman… I couldn’t believe it. Silky strains… syncopation with unimaginably tight tolerances… screaming horns… and chords I’d never heard before. I’d later learn to call them by their names: A7, C6, Ebmaj7, G-7b5, C7#9… but when I first heard them, they were just cool. Opening a new world of music. A new world.

Harry Boughknight was an old-school band director. We marched block-band style and played everything in 4/4. I learned Sousa in marching band. But Mr. B also loved the Big Band. In the next few years, that high school jazz band would play concerts at school, dances in town, and country club bookings, every performance further engraining in me the love of bee-bop and swing and Latin and jazz waltz. I progressed through high school, and Furman’s jazz program notched it up a couple levels – you see, those guys could really play! I loved every minute of it. But life moves on, and unless you’re very diligent, keeping up your lip is nearly impossible. So the bands fell by the wayside, and a couple years after moving to Charlotte, even the all-jazz public radio station went under, diminishing my jazz exposure to a shameful dearth .

Then came Jazz Vespers…

It’s easily in my top ten things to do. Things that make my blood flow. That speak to me of the goodness of life. Of the sacred wonder of creation. Of the mystery we call Incarnation (God-with-us). Our Jazz Vespers have given me a chance to re-discover the world of jazz. This time at the piano. And it’s a thrill – because I’m not a real player, but I’m getting to back up some guys that are! In that first jazz band, 1979, John G. Franklin played first-chair trombone, and then bass. He could play then. He can play now, and he knows the world of musicians in Charlotte, and has brought some really fine players to share their chops with us.

We’re up again, Friday. 6:00 pm. The combo is practicing this week, and we’ll do some sacred jazz for you (if you don’t mind swinging a few Baptist hymns) and some standards (just to prove that “secular” music is sacred, too). We’ll meet in the Chapel. There will be no sermon, per se. We’ll serve fair-trade coffee (which you can drink while you listen). And we’ll enjoy scripture and poetry and silence, and will seek to encounter the mystery we call God, as we gather as a community of faith, around the Godly strains of Jazz. Bring a friend and join us. I think it might make your top-ten, too.

G-7b5, C7b9, F-7, Bb7, Ebmaj7 (Translation: a benediction from Errol Garner’s “Misty”)…