I have four beautiful comments today after yesterday’s post. Check those out. And I am copying and pasting Cris’s mega long and thoughtful comment here in a minute. It is so personal, bless her. But first I have to fill you in on what happened yesterday at the doc’s.

It is not long and involved but short and simple. My one renegade number came down significantly with one week of vacation. So, I am having another week off and then going in next Wednesday for another test to see where we are at. If it is below the threshold then I get to continue the trial but at a lower dosage of the agent. And if I am not below I will have another week off. I have six weeks to complete this process. Sounds all scientific and tidy. So I am remaining optimistic.

So, really the main point is that some nice comments came in on the topic of me saying that I wonder if this is the last time I will plant corn? Jokingly Henriette said, “Don’t buy green bananas” in her comment. That’s funny!

But here is what our Caminoheads South America Bureau Chief Cris wrote:

Dear Phil,

What a poignant post… I should be turning on my work computer but I decided to post a comment here. In this culture when we think that “time is clicking” only when we get a diagnosis of a life-threatening illness (not even the others!!!) or when as women we arrive to the 40ies, it is easy to forget that we are mortal human beings, all of us, at A N Y T I M E. And in this culture too, when we talk about “lost battles” or “life has been taken by…” we forget that life just happens, and we live the life we have been given, and while we do have choices, we don’t choose the life we have.

And I am going to go personal here, mostly because by now, the readers here are my neighbors and my fellow pilgrims and going personal (or sharing our hearts) is what we do with those who share our lives with us.

My mother died at 39 years old of liver cancer. I was 5 years old when that happened. And I have not a single memory of her, or my life with her, how she looked like, nothing… And for many many years, I told that “My mother died when I was 5” as if I would be saying “I bought plants for my apartment”… it was part of my story, but I was not owing it. In 2013 I went to London for the first time and visited Kensington Palace, well not the palace, but the gardens, and there is a small tower with a clock and there is this sentence written below the clock that reads: “Time flies”. I was recently divorced and for the first time thought that since a very young age I knew that time is short, that lives can be taken at a young age, even if you have young children to look after, even if you have a lot to do, a career to pursue, a mortgage to pay, a trip to do, still to meet the love of your life, etc. but I never thought that way before and that haunted me for a while. The next year I went to the Camino. I spoke with my boss and while my job was the best thing that was going on in my life back then, I said that if I wouldn’t be granted a leave, I would be quitting. I was granted an 8 weeks leave and I left.

Thinking of my mother’s story, the Camino and John O’Donohue’s book, my own life experiences, all that started to re-shape my way of seeing “life”, not even my own life but everybody’s, and it was more clear to me that we are here on a journey, that is more likely to be an on-foot one, that a speedy highway one… and while preparation is key, it doesn’t grant an insurance, even many who have trained before going to the Camino got blisters and injuries that made them stop their pilgrimage, change their plans, skip sections, etc. Some others were lucky to get to Santiago, but the ones who got there, realized that the journey continues beyond Santiago, and by then we know that our journey may be cut short because of blisters and injuries; or that our journey may include skipped sections. But, as pilgrims too, we rejoice in the fact that we left the comfort of our lives in our sofa, and set on a pilgrimage, that has nothing spectacular, it is not easy, it includes the risk of being cut short, or blisters and injuries, but I am sure at some point we will be able to tell the story of our lives and the best will probably be if we can say: “I had such a great journey.”

But the reality is that nobody knows when it will be that moment, blisters and injuries only are reminders that we have to do the best with the time we have walking. The ones who don’t have blisters and injuries, may just walk mindless and are taking the risk of their lives being taken by a car rolling over them…

Just a couple days before Jean Vanier’s death, I was listening to the conversation Krista Tippet had with him. I had listened to it before more than once, but each time, it is revealing. This last time it touched me thinking of my aunt and her disease too.. but anyway, in that conversation, he said the below:

“Death is a passage, which will be an extraordinary discovery, something that’ll be so amazing that we can’t even imagine it. It’s like my little niece who died of AIDS, and she wasn’t a believer. She said, “What it’s going to be like?” And I said, “Well, you’re going to fall asleep. And when you wake up, you’ll be in such joy, such peace. Something that you’ve never, never lived before.” And she said, “But I’m not a believer.” I said, “But you remember when you were in that apartment in Paris, and there were some Turkish immigrants that you make cakes for them. I’ve always seen you as somebody kind. And so your kindness, you’ll find — it’ll be OK. And then the rest we will discover. It’s going to be exciting. It’s going to be wonderful.”

I am not strong in my faith, but I hang into the fact that I love my neighbors and fellow pilgrims!

Genuine Love,
Cris

Thank you immensely dear Cris. It all seems as you say loves, Felipé.

Writing from the ferry boat. Have to squeeze this post in between events, hospital then airport. It is beautiful again this morning. The sun is breaking through the usual morning marine clouds. The water is very calm as we cruise. The barometric pressure is high with stable weather for us. Looks like corn planting time to me.

The planting project is in high gear with the prep all done and with Jim coming today. Hopefully we will start putting the seeds in tomorrow morning. So, exciting!

There always is that thought rattling around in my brain that this could be the last corn crop for me. Can’t be helped really with the state of things, the uncertainty of things. Of course this is true for all of us young or old that every darn thing is the last but we never ever dwell on that naturally.

Coming into the dock, another successful crossing. It is really a miracle that we continually take for granted. No problem, we are good at that. But today I am thinking that my corn could be my last, but who’s dwelling.

Time to disembark, see you at the hospital. Ah, the traffic was bad but here I am. All parked and seated and waiting. Hello to this person and that person, been here way too long, know everyone.

Today the main thing here is to work out if I am continuing the clinical trial that was interrupted last time due to a substandard number. Yea, so I trust the doc to navigate through the protocols on this and get me the best deal. The best deal is what I hope for, right?

So, back to the topic of the feeling that this is the last time I do something. Maybe this is my last hospital visit. Maybe this and maybe that. I guess the takeaway is to not take things for granted, right?

I am going to sign off for now. The doc is going to call me in momentarily. Th best to you this day. One thing at a time loves, Felipé.

Way too many nice days in a row here, getting sooo spoiled. This is the time of year when we just forget about the last six months of weather and celebrate why we are so glad to live here. Yea, absolutely. It is just so easy to fall into. Going out to work on the corn this morning because it may be too warm to be out there this afternoon. Such a hardship.

Walk day today and tapas. This afternoon Henriette is coming. Trying to get Catherine and Dana to come for a few minutes. They, the dears, are sitting vigil for a friend that is dying.
That is important work for sure.

Wiley cut his hand yesterday at work bad enough that we ran him into Tacoma for stitches. It was toward the end of day and everything was closed out here. Haven’t heard if he is taking a sick day today or if he is doing light duty. Always something in the construction biz.

I am off to Seattle and cancer treatment again tomorrow. My week vacation will be over. And I have to see what comes next. If they are having me continue the clinical trial or not. So, thar is a little bit up in the air.

And then while I am in town I will pick up old friends Jim and Gloria at SeaTac airport coming in from Buffalo. So, that will be fun. They will be with us till Sunday.

OK, that is all the news for today. I am outside and working on the corn 🌽. Alperfect it is really. Alperfect loves, Felipé.

I am planning on planting the corn 🌽 on Thursday. Jim will be here from Buffalo to help. So, God willing, Thursday it is. The weather is supposed to be fantastic and I am close on having the soil ready, just have to level it and layout the rows and set up the irrigation. It will be good to have that helping hand for the actual planting.

So, this morning I set the corn seed to soaking in warm water. I’m saying, “Wake up you little guys, it’s time!” Have the three varieties in the three coffee cans with the water, as you can see in the pic today. The early is Sugar Buns which has a smallish ear which matures quickly so it there when you are craving. The middle is Bodacious which takes longer and is cornier tasting with a bigger ear. It is a favorite. Then the late is Golden Jubilee which has the biggest ear and takes the longest. It won’t happen in a cold summer here at this latitude but it should this year. All of that just means that we will have fresh corn for a month or maybe five weeks at best. It is called succession planting when you have different varieties that come in waves and don’t interfere with each other.

So, John Conway, Pilgrim Farmer John, will be here from Iowa later this month to put his blessing on all this. And the real point of this is to help feed the pilgrims who will be here in August. Yum!

Walking in a few moments here. What a beautiful morning too. See you tomorrow. Corny loves, Felipé.

The weather has really been cooperating lately. Catherine said this morning at tailgating that it was going to be 85 on Friday. Really? The corn is going shoot out of the ground.

Mass was very moving today. To start Father David always finds an excuse to bless the whole congregation with holy water by walking through the whole space sprinkling us with droplets on our heads. I think that is one of his favorite things to do. But his homily was good too with talk of Christ buoying us up. Over the years we have used that word a lot, “buoying”.

But I hadn’t thought about buoying within my relationship with Christ although it has certainly to be there. To ask for help I have to surrender to the other. That is why I think off of the Camino we don’t usually do it or at least do it so easily.
But there we were in distress on numerous occasions. There would be some Camino angel who would appear to help and you/I would say sure, help me. But it is a thing that we balk at with Christ a lot of times. Oh, I got this. Or oh, I’m fine when we are not. But most of the time I think it is pride, oh I got this, thanks. So the help is maybe always available but our surrender is not.

Well, time to travel on. Jim and Gloria coming on Wednesday and staying to Sunday as house guests. Have some clean up to do, sort of streamline the situation and make room. It is good to have a deadline to get this worthwhile work done when we don’t seem to be able to always pull it off without.

Beautiful springtime blessings to you. Thanks. Sunny loves, Felipé.

Just one of those days with a lot of moving parts. I’m hanging out here on the couch drinking a cup of coffee trying to stay awake to finish this blog post to you. The sun is going down and there’s is a bit of alpenglow, that rosy light.

Off to Mass in the morning. I think that this is the third Sunday of Easter. The lilies still adorn the front of church. Hope Father is a little rested up after all the holiday duties.

I am going to have to go. Miss you all, Felipé.

m

A PRAYER FOR THE SICK AND INFIRMED

As our earthy clothing becomes torn and tattered
in the rough and tumble
so it goes with our bodies.
Why is this Lord we ask?

Some of us, we suffer.
Why us we ask?
Is this fair we ask?
Please Lord open our eyes and our ears.

Some die before others.
And whose turn is next?
Who sets this clock?
Please Lord open us to understanding,

Why are some of us chosen for this journey
of the “The Sick and Infirmed.”
What is our purpose now?
We wrestle to make sense of our suffering, of the uncertainty.
Give us a hint Lord.

We know that you are the Wellspring of Mercy.
This mercy is what ultimately will bring us to peace.
In the shelter of this peace we are hoping
some of the answers will appear.

May the tangles in our minds be loosened, our knots untied.
May the knowing of your bigger picture bridge over
our times of personal smallness.

We are grateful.
We are hopeful.
Give us strength.
Lead us through.

All in the name of our Savior. Amen.

Phil Volker 5/2/19 National Day of Prayer

I have to admit that I am a little disappointed in the results of the scan from Tuesday. The results were no real change. You could see slight growth depending on how you measure it but never-the-less no turn around. We decided to give it another six weeks as sometimes these drugs need sufficient time to build up to the right level. But in the meantime I feel beat up.

There was also a glitch in the numbers for my kidney function and I am getting a week off while they double check. So, my nerves are somewhat jangled at the moment. I was hoping for some significant dismantling of those tumors equal with the work I have been putting into it the last sixteen months.

Ah, so it goes. Yesterday I saw some of my favorite nurses. I miss those guys since I don’t go in as often with this latest drug that I take orally. Anyway they are very supportive. And one of their own is on the Camino right now, ten days into it and blogging. And another is also a pastor at a local church and wants me to come and show the documentary to his congregation. That’s all good.

Off to the prayer service at noon and will be offering my prayer for the sick and infirmed. I worked hard on the crafting of it and will be glad to read it here soon.

Off I go. Lots of moving parts here today, have to get started. “sick and infirmed” loves, Felipé.

Another beautiful day in the making. And yesterday was so pretty with a nice walk and tapas outside. Ahh, this is what we all have been waiting for all those winter months.

So, back to the big city in a few minutes. The big day to see what is in the surprise box of my scan report. Always anxiety producing and important to get over with.

CAMINOHEADS CONVENTION GET TOGETHER NEWS

OK, this is August 23-26th here at Raven Ranch. RSVP at caminoheads@outlook.com . Also, if you could leave phone number and email address we can have all that in one place.

So let’s talk accommodations and transportation. There are lots of BandB’s and Airbandb’s. You have to Google around at Vashon Island, WA for info. It is not too early to book something for yourself. We need a certain amount of rental cars to make this work so if you can afford one please get one.
Local folks will have their own transportation and may be able to get some folks from place to place. I am sure that being the pilgrims that we are this will work out.

Camping and portapotties will be here at the ranch. We have plenty of room for that. And the weather is the best that time of year. We will have an outdoor kitchen set up for campers to use.

If you have questions post a note to me in the blog comments. Reminder, comments don’t show up immediately after you submit them but they will go through.

Well that is all I have for today. Have to pack it up.
Where are my sunglasses loves, Felipé.

Well, this is usually the time cloaked in anxiety and worry, this scan time. The whole process is when I have the worse time but am feeling strangely peaceful at the moment. I am trying to be as optimistic as possible to hear news of this new treatment that I have been receiving. It has been six weeks now and the doc and research nurses are keeping close tabs on my every move. And this scan is the first look at my insides. Ah, my insides, the place that has been steering my life for eight years now.

I will share the news with you after I learn about it tomorrow at my doctor’s appointment. But really enough of that for now. There. are other things, other important things, going on. Such as I look out the window and the swallows are swooping once again. There are bunches of them right now, so happy to be back at the ranch after there long trip south. See that’s important!

And I don’t hear chainsaws everytime I open the door to the outside. Neighbors have all their winter cleanup wrapped up. Or, the leaves are out on most of the species of trees changing the look of the place. The walnuts are still bare but they are some of the last to leaf out. And the corn patch is looking mighty fine after six times through with the tiller. Just needs a few more degrees of warmth.

And I need to finish up my prayer for the “sick and infirmed” for National Day of Prayer. I have a good theme, a good beginning and I am working on the body of it. If I can come up with a great wrap up ending I will have it in the bag.

OK, have to go shower up and get pretty for my nurses. Enjoy your day where you are. Swoopingloves, Felipé.