Differences. We readily notice differences. 

And we make judgments about the differences that we notice, assigning value to our preferences.

Consequently, the people of the world are divided into strangers, friends, aliens, and enemies. 

What I understand about scripture is this division is not God's intention.

The epistle lesson for today, the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Ephesians 2:11-22 addresses this separation: "With his body, he broke down the barrier of hatred that divided us. He canceled the detailed rules of the Law so that he could create one new person out of the two groups, making peace....So now you are no longer strangers and aliens. Rather, you are fellow citizens with God's people, and you belong to God's household."

God's household is larger than most of us imagine.

"Have a good weekend, " the tech said as she helped me from the radiation table. "I'll see you Monday."

As I thought back on the morning events, I laughed at the interplay of greetings and words. The patient before me, as we passed in the hallway, said, "It's all good!" Not to me necessarily, but maybe as a testament to his treatments. I thought at the time, wait! Have you been checking my website? The parking valet told me to have a great weekend. Possibly, because I over-tipped him. And it is free. 

It will be a great weekend. No treatments on Saturday or Sunday. It's a real weekend!

And Judy brought home sweet cherries from the grocery. I fell in love with sweet cherries 50 years ago when we drove around Lake Michigan and discovered sweet cherries at roadside stands. Three treatments complete. It will be a good weekend.

Friday will be my third session of radiation for treating my Large B Cell Lymphoma. There will be fifteen treatments total, with the final one scheduled for August 2. Two weeks ago, the technicians took several x-rays and a scan of my stomach, and made 5 different crosses on my upper body and two straight lines, one over my sternum and the other under my navel. The waterproof stickers protected the intersections but we were encouraged to redraw the lines that washed away with a sharpie. Wednesday's treatment took a long time with x-rays and physician consultations. The techs added red crosses with waterproof stickers over the intersections. But Thursday's treatment was finished in less than 15 minutes. I have not experienced any digestive issues yet with the radiation to my stomach, but I am being careful about what I eat. I do have a powerful need for a nap after the treatment, a substantial nap.

I am continually reminded how serious this cancer is, and how blessed I am that it was discovered early. Even the targets are temporary and will quickly fade. August will be here soon.

The early morning rain woke me up. The rain gauge contains .2 inch. Not much, but enough to soak the grass seed in the front lawn near Judy's newly modified flower garden. Ginger, the ginger cat, has transformed since the disappearance last summer of her sibling, and craves constant attention as soon as we are awake. This past week has been an emotional challenge. Good news from tests did not prevent blue days. Don't know why. Cancer literature notes that emotional downturns are typical. The physical challenges of cancer treatment are sufficient without the addition of blue days. Healing is a slow process. Slower than I prefer.

Radiation treatments begin tomorrow. Judy has re-marked the registration guide marks on my body several times. Physical reminders of the process for the next three weeks. My strength has not returned. I am impatient. But I am closer to the end of cancer treatment than to the beginning. Just a few more weeks.

It rained yesterday. The forecast was for a few tenths of an inch. But between 1:30pm and 4:30pm, it rained a lot. 1.4 inches of rain.

And for some reason, as I watched the rain in my backyard, an old gospel hymn came to mind "Showers of Blessing." I looked through my collection of old hymnbooks and songbooks to find it. As I gazed at the page and sang to myself, I realized the words were deeply planted in my memory and spirit.

"There shall be showers of blessing:" This is the promise of love; There shall be seasons refreshing, Sent from the Saviour above.

And the chorus goes, Showers of blessing, Showers of blessing we need: Mercy drops round us are falling, But for the showers we plead.

And off I went on another internet excursion to see if there was a story behind the song. I didn't find that story but what was curious was who wrote the lyrics. Wikipedia noted that the lyricist was Daniel Webster. "The" Daniel Webster? No. Wikipedia is wrong! That's a whole other issue. Daniel Webster Whittle wrote hymns under several pseudonyms, which leaves me wondering why he would do that.  Again, I am wandering in the weeds.

My first reflection, though, was about showers of blessings, and how we long for the abundance of being soaked. With hope and joy and grace and peace and healing. 

Purple hints of the future. 

I continue to ponder. meditate, ruminate (now there's an old word) on the days beyond the end of treatment. Four weeks from today should be my last radiation treatment and then about two weeks later I'll see Dr. Thompson again as a follow up to all of these months of treatment for lymphoma. That office visit will be far different from the one last March. That first visit was more than scary with so much I didn't know or understand.

Now I'm closer to the conclusion than to the beginning. The cancer appears to be healed, cured.

This dahlia bud is just beginning to unfold and will soon be full of purple like the one behind it. Even though it's just beginning, one can see the hint of purple. I'm seeing the hint of something far different after cancer. I'm going to continue to ponder and meditate and ruminate until I see it.

It's been four weeks since the last chemotherapy treatment and it's another 9 days until radiation treatments begin. Today, I certainly feel caught in time between chemo and radiation. I don't know if that contributed to my blue day or not. I felt emotionally and physically exhausted. Judy and I walked down to Concord Road and back, so I got to climb the ridge twice. I cannot keep up with her. I have to climb slowly, and catch my breath. I do feel like my energy is slowly returning, just not as quickly as I would like. I'm ready but me body is not.

Last Friday I had my radiation simulation, and now I have a black cross marked on my chest and a line below my navel and one on my sternum and a cross under each arm. An x-ray will be taken as I begin each session so that the doctor and technicians can confirm that I am in the same exact position for each treatment. The treatments begin July 14, so I won't finish in July, and the final treatments will be in August.

The cancer treatments began four months ago and I still have another month of treatments. A new phase will begin soon, but for now I'm in between.

The magnolia trees are blooming again. Actually, the trees have continued to bloom since open blossoms first appeared more than a month ago. However, it does seem like there are bloom cycles when there are an abundance of blooms and this one is evidently the peak of one of those bloom cycles. I have shared my visual fascination with magnolia blooms previously. My eye is caught by the image after the bloom has faded and the petals will soon fall to the ground.

This blossom is far past its blooming peak and assumed a unique configuration. If you use your imagination, or just squint, possibly you can see the figure of a person. I notice that by squinting you are throwing away information that your eye can see when its fully open. Isn't it the same when you are ready to fall asleep? It's interesting to me that by discarding information, truth, we can see something that isn't there and make false conclusions. They may be entertaining fantasies, but it's not real.