Discernment Dissertation in Progress

I'm musing about and wanting to begin to process an entirely new topic in my blog writing, but before I get started I thought I'd add a cancer update.  Many of you have already read this on my Caring Bridge site, so you can skip it.

I do feel as if I am working on a Ph.D. in discernment.  And while I am good with this decision, more reading late last night reminded me that the complexities are endless and that I am embarking upon (or have been embarked upon, with no say in the matter!) a journey that will affect the rest of my life in myriad ways I can barely grasp at the moment.

I do think that someone should award me a Ph.D. in Discernment when the initial treatment phase is concluded, maybe a year from now. 

And now, from the CB site:

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Deuteronomy 30:19 or, Everything is Connected

I've reached a decision and, as many women promised me would be the case, I feel as if an enormous burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I expect to have surgery in mid-November; if you want the gory details, give me a call or send an email or FB message.

Personally, I think the discernment process is more interesting than the medical details. (Fortunately, the doctors and nurses have the opposite approach.)  Herewith, then, more graduate level discernment:

Yesterday I had the opportunity to to teach a class in a Course on Death and Dying for nursing and gerontology students at Cleveland State.  The invitation had come from a spiritual direction colleague, who is also an instructor in the CSU School of Nursing.

As I was putting the final touches on the class the night before, I received, completely out of the blue, a lengthy and moving email from someone who, with his family, has been almost as deeply affected by our Josh's death as we have.  I haven't heard from him in the three years since the funeral, and I was touched, pained, and comforted, all at once, by what he wrote.

The next day, I spent the afternoon trying to convey to those mostly very young nursing students what a privilege and honor theirs will be, to care for the families of dying and dead children ~ what extraordinary roles they will have to play as educators, advocates, comforters, mediators, and listeners.  I don't know how well I pulled it off, but I gave it my best shot.

This morning, close but still a bit uncertain, I taught my class at John Carroll, trying to give my regular students a basic timeline of Jewish, Christian, and  Muslim history so that they will have some context for the Scripture we're about to study.

And then, since I was there already, I walked across the street and sat in the Gesu Church sanctuary for awhile.  In Protestant mode (not!), I looked at the crucifix, and at the stained glass windows depicting the lives of Ignatius and Francis Xavier, and at the statues of Mary and Joseph.  I thought about the letter I'd received night before last, and about the class I'd taught yesterday.

I thought about all the lives represented by letter, class, and art, and I thought about life itself emerging from what appears to be complete brokenness.

And then I knew, with absolute clarity, exactly what to do.

I've communicated my preferred dates, and the doctors' schedulers are at work.

And so: This has been a long and involved process and I have had incredible friendship, support and counsel ~ medical, practical, and spiritual.  I am comfortable with my decision and confident in my medical team.  The time for advice is now officially concluded, and the time for support and encouragement is here.

Thank you! ~ and stick around for . . . whatever happens next.

:)