Pleasant Words are a Honeycomb

“Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the body.” Proverbs: 16:24

I don't know why it is so hard for the appointment people to pronounce my doctor's name. They say "Doctor ASS-fauw." It's actually a much more refined pronunciation, as in "Oss-faa." I'm not sure, but I think he's Ethiopian. He did his residency is New York City and Long Island. And I will admit to a blatant stereotype. I like him because I think he's from the continent of Africa. He is meticulous in his looks and in the way he speaks. He gives me time. . .doesn't just rush me with a bunch of information in the language of garbely goop. He seems to look and talk right into the center of my core.

"You'll be OK," he said. "I will walk with you through this."

That's what he said. I wished we had found a doctor like that early in Bob's liver expedition. And I found one right away!

So today at work, the lady from Northern Minnesota who requested a speaker from Lutheran World Relief for this October said the theme of their Women of the ELCA conference gathering is "Mind, Body, and Soul" using Proverbs 16:24 as a theme, "Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the body." And even before I saw my wonderful Dr. Asfaw today I decided that I would cling to this verse. The Bible's way of endorsing the power of positive thinking. I think that is the conference that I should speak at. Studies show that the simple act of smiling improves your health.

Even still, the very, very first thing you think is "Please God, whatever happens, please let the kids be OK." That's what you think when your doctor so exquisitely tells you that you have a slow moving cancer in your throat. The second thing you think is how exactly should your surgery be scheduled so that you can tag team with your husband's routine open heart surgery. For the kids' sake. The third thing you think is, wow, this is not advanced and aggressive, as far as you know anyway. And you say a prayer for people you know who are in that.

Dr. Asfaw says that the statistics are totally on my side. Statistics, along with honeycomb thinking and my new found spirituality compliments of Bob's diva liver, and hips-don't-lie-Shakira which I am listening to right now, will get me through this. It's like I don't want to make a huge deal out of this, but also don't want to lone ranger it. That's another lesson I took away from Bob's liver. We need people. We need eachother.

Truly, what I want, is for Bob to get a pastoral call in a really cool church. For us to move into a big house where we can have lots of guests. I want an awesome housewarming party with a mac-n-cheese bake-off and a ventriloquist and a magic show. I want to visit coffee farmers in Nicaragua and remember Oscar Romero in El Salvador. I want to visit chocolate farmers in Ghana and get a really colorful, very fancy dress in full West African dress with lots of jewelry. I want to take my kids to Guatemala to speak Spanish and snorkel. I want a European family vacation. I want to create LWR Hospitality and Learning Centers all over the world. I want to go to Jerusalem, Iran, Iraq, and Romania and see really, really old stuff. Stuff older than the millenium. I want to take an aqua blue cruise and not do a dog-gone thing except for sleep, eat, drink, and read. I want to live in a place where we can build a chicken coop in the back yard that looks like a Swiss Chalet. I want to visit the Rev. Deb in the Black Hills. And still, there are still so many people that I want to thank for getting us through the diva liver melodrama. There's just so much to do.

The fourth thing you think is, when your doctor says this to you, is who should you call. And what do you say. And drat, I'm just so bad with phone conversations, so I hope you will pretty please accept my apologies for reading about this on a cold, hard web page instead of hearing directly from me. Imagine that this blog is a very personal conversation with me. Because I really, really need you. And so does Bob.

Honestly, though, I'll tell you that I feel OK about this. Six months ago, maybe not. Today, yes, I'm OK. Kind of spiritual about it. I am still basking from the Bob Speirs Family Benefit and how people rallied around us in such a big way before, during, and after Bob's diva liver deliverance. Still believe that the power of love is bigger than everything else.

Gotta go, Amanda's trying to sleep and she says the keyboard noise is annoying.

With love, T