Since I have a new look, I thought I ought to write something! I'm completing another term teaching in Leiden. I have really enjoyed the students. They are bright, cosmopolitan and creative. As we are winding down the semester, I find I'm going to miss them!
This is the great thing about being a teacher, lecturer, prof! Sharing ideas is THE best experience. Seeing students become enthusiastic about ideas, vying to express their opinions, jostling one another for the last word is just electric. Yesterday's class was exactly that--electric. Ideas literally sizzled! These are the days when 'they' can't pay me enough to teach.
Bravo FRSH Seminaar 1200! You're a wonderful group!
LankaBlue2
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
August 2011
We've lost another friend to cancer this week. We understand he felt it was time to go. I live in the Netherlands where "where and when to die" is a legal choice. The government protects those less scrupled persons from forcing the issue for inheritance or whatever reasons by mandating the signature of two doctors who agree nothing more can be done for the person's medical condition; who support the patient's wish to die.
I throw this out there for readers. Maybe you disagree stipulating: This is eternal business and the medical community should have nothing to say in the matter. Maybe you agree: The choice should be that of the individual and his medical team who prefer to let the person 'die with dignity'. I haven't had to face this choice yet personally or with a member of my own family.
I have thought that if we didn't let our beloved family member and pet suffer, then our human family should receive at least the same consideration. But I think this is highly personal issue. I do believe that it MUST be the choice of the individual. There should be no pressure or foisting on the patient to concede to anyone's wishes.
However, this always raises questions such as 1) is the person in his/her right mind? 2) What if there is a medical treatment and cure--traditional or complimentary--that would work for the person and the answer is in next email? 3) What about religious and other considerations about death, dying and the hour?
I am a theologian (at least I studied and possess an MA in Theology), but this is one issue I leave up to God and the individual who will face his/her ultimate destiny. Not for me to judge. I am responsible for my own life decisions. Right now that seems enough.
In Peace and Clarity of Thought.
LankaBlue2
I throw this out there for readers. Maybe you disagree stipulating: This is eternal business and the medical community should have nothing to say in the matter. Maybe you agree: The choice should be that of the individual and his medical team who prefer to let the person 'die with dignity'. I haven't had to face this choice yet personally or with a member of my own family.
I have thought that if we didn't let our beloved family member and pet suffer, then our human family should receive at least the same consideration. But I think this is highly personal issue. I do believe that it MUST be the choice of the individual. There should be no pressure or foisting on the patient to concede to anyone's wishes.
However, this always raises questions such as 1) is the person in his/her right mind? 2) What if there is a medical treatment and cure--traditional or complimentary--that would work for the person and the answer is in next email? 3) What about religious and other considerations about death, dying and the hour?
I am a theologian (at least I studied and possess an MA in Theology), but this is one issue I leave up to God and the individual who will face his/her ultimate destiny. Not for me to judge. I am responsible for my own life decisions. Right now that seems enough.
In Peace and Clarity of Thought.
LankaBlue2
Thursday, May 26, 2011
When the world's up side down
The last time I posted was February when my friend Randy passed away. It does not seem all that long ago. And now, another friend has Stage 4 cancer & the future is uncertain. In the last two years, it feels like I've lost countless family & friends. Of course, that's not true. But even if it's counting the fingers on one hand, emotionally, it's too many. One of those number was my father. We remembered him in the second year of his passing in April.
What is it I want to say at this moment? It's this: I'm overwhelmed. I know people die every day, every where, throughout the world. They die of famine, they die in war, they die in the fight for freedom, change, religion. When one dies by choice, ready to count the cost, even it if the cost is death, that's one thing. The problem with those who die from illness is that we feel so helpless. It's not a cause. It's not choice.
Those I've lost to illness, fought the good fight. They never believed they would not live. And mercifully, some of those who left us, did so with the expectation that they would 'win', 'overcome', whatever the issue, whatever the ailment.
I know there comes a time when fighting is not the answer, when acceptance, and the peace that comes with the reconciliation of loss, is the course one has to take. I don't think getting to this place is an act of fatalism. On the contrary, I think it an act of courage preceded by grace. How do I know this? Because I've been there.
After they'd removed a large tumour, Staged 3B, the radiologist report indicated the cancer had come back, with a vengeance. I was preparing for the worse. I had to stop. I had to confront the end of my life. This was no easy task. I remember sitting in the dark at our dinning room table. My husband was asleep upstairs. I was completely alone. I prayed for grace. I had to accept that I might not live beyond the next few months if the radiologists report were true.
I can't say I saw a blinding light. No great emotions poured over me other than the prayer for grace. Grace to go through whatever lay ahead. Grace to accept whatever the future would bring. Grace to believe I was loved completely by Him who loves us so.
I turned off the lights & climbed the stairs to my bed. Before turning in, I turned to a book someone at my cancer clinic gave me. It was a compilation of readings from Hebrew Bible & the Christian New Testament. I opened "a" page, somewhere in the book. I read the following: I will restore your health & heal your wounds. In that moment, I felt grace. I felt peace. I rested in a promise--and have been resting ever since.
That was 10 years ago. I am so grateful for all the doctors protocols that saved my life. I am so grateful for all the prayers, the thoughts, the words of love; the fighting my husband did to get me the best care; the depth of compassion I felt from those who could say nothing to me without crying & those who smiled & hugged me. Grateful to the pragmatist who simply said, "Beth, we all die sometime".
It doesn't always turn out this way. The last two years have shown me this. But there is always hope, grace and love. And these three never die.
In Peace. LankaBlue2
What is it I want to say at this moment? It's this: I'm overwhelmed. I know people die every day, every where, throughout the world. They die of famine, they die in war, they die in the fight for freedom, change, religion. When one dies by choice, ready to count the cost, even it if the cost is death, that's one thing. The problem with those who die from illness is that we feel so helpless. It's not a cause. It's not choice.
Those I've lost to illness, fought the good fight. They never believed they would not live. And mercifully, some of those who left us, did so with the expectation that they would 'win', 'overcome', whatever the issue, whatever the ailment.
I know there comes a time when fighting is not the answer, when acceptance, and the peace that comes with the reconciliation of loss, is the course one has to take. I don't think getting to this place is an act of fatalism. On the contrary, I think it an act of courage preceded by grace. How do I know this? Because I've been there.
After they'd removed a large tumour, Staged 3B, the radiologist report indicated the cancer had come back, with a vengeance. I was preparing for the worse. I had to stop. I had to confront the end of my life. This was no easy task. I remember sitting in the dark at our dinning room table. My husband was asleep upstairs. I was completely alone. I prayed for grace. I had to accept that I might not live beyond the next few months if the radiologists report were true.
I can't say I saw a blinding light. No great emotions poured over me other than the prayer for grace. Grace to go through whatever lay ahead. Grace to accept whatever the future would bring. Grace to believe I was loved completely by Him who loves us so.
I turned off the lights & climbed the stairs to my bed. Before turning in, I turned to a book someone at my cancer clinic gave me. It was a compilation of readings from Hebrew Bible & the Christian New Testament. I opened "a" page, somewhere in the book. I read the following: I will restore your health & heal your wounds. In that moment, I felt grace. I felt peace. I rested in a promise--and have been resting ever since.
That was 10 years ago. I am so grateful for all the doctors protocols that saved my life. I am so grateful for all the prayers, the thoughts, the words of love; the fighting my husband did to get me the best care; the depth of compassion I felt from those who could say nothing to me without crying & those who smiled & hugged me. Grateful to the pragmatist who simply said, "Beth, we all die sometime".
It doesn't always turn out this way. The last two years have shown me this. But there is always hope, grace and love. And these three never die.
In Peace. LankaBlue2
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Randy
Our friend Randy died this week. Tomorrow we celebrate his life. When friends near our age pass on, it's a hard reminder: We're all just a breath away from death.
Randy lived a life that was wonderful & painful in these latter years. I don't know the details. I just know of what he died--and that ain't easy! But as I know Randy, he bore his pain with grace.
He & his wife were so gracious to us as economic migrants, transplanted yet again; this time to our fifth culture. Our first evening together was punctuated by talk of Dutch life, cross cultural marriage and the best place to buy groceries, interspersed with steaming hot cups of Douwer Egbert's coffee, Old Amsterdam cheese and homemade sandwiches. Heady wonderful talk. Practical down-to-earth talk. And, of course, 'lekker eten'!
Randy, his wife & family left the country to another where I had once lived for a while as squib. He returned to the land of our mutual abode, perhaps to die, or at least, to complete the cycle of his life. Tomorrow we celebrate a life well lived by a wonderful human being; a gem of a man.
We remember you fondly, Randy. We celebrate you & your life's impact on others. Yours was a gentle spirit that lightened the dark.
In the Peace which passes all Understanding.
LankaBlue2.
Randy lived a life that was wonderful & painful in these latter years. I don't know the details. I just know of what he died--and that ain't easy! But as I know Randy, he bore his pain with grace.
He & his wife were so gracious to us as economic migrants, transplanted yet again; this time to our fifth culture. Our first evening together was punctuated by talk of Dutch life, cross cultural marriage and the best place to buy groceries, interspersed with steaming hot cups of Douwer Egbert's coffee, Old Amsterdam cheese and homemade sandwiches. Heady wonderful talk. Practical down-to-earth talk. And, of course, 'lekker eten'!
Randy, his wife & family left the country to another where I had once lived for a while as squib. He returned to the land of our mutual abode, perhaps to die, or at least, to complete the cycle of his life. Tomorrow we celebrate a life well lived by a wonderful human being; a gem of a man.
We remember you fondly, Randy. We celebrate you & your life's impact on others. Yours was a gentle spirit that lightened the dark.
In the Peace which passes all Understanding.
LankaBlue2.
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