Joy Anyway!

Perhaps too often, too deeply, I delve into my psyche. I rise out of it with a knowing, of what I do not know. Yet, one thing I know is there is something waiting for me to recognize it. It keeps me in a constant state of questioning.

My life is in flux. Understatement of the year. Many changes are coming. Not only whatever happens with the cancer, there is also my retirement. There is also the uncertainty of what I will be allowed to do with my diaconate calling since I will be beyond the canonical age limits. There is also the uncertainty of what I WANT to do with my diaconate calling. I know that I continue to feel called to Street Ministry, the JustFood truck. I hope that I can continue to do that. Who knows? God knows.

While I know that I cannot be totally idle or do nothing, I also know that I need to have nothing to do for a couple of weeks. I need to heal my psyche that is so drained by week after week of having to control my feelings at Pantry. I need my empathetic tendencies to have a little bit of time to rest.

I have barriers that I am able to throw up when needed. A few days ago, my barriers were obviously down. My body was tired, in recovery mode, really needing to sleep rather than be in the midst of people. With the chemotherapy, I spend far too many days away from the people and felt the need to be there. And I did need to be there for others. Yet my ability to pull up the barriers was not there. It hit me before I realized it.

I was overwhelmed with the pain, the suffering, the sorrow, the loss of those in the room. It was like a big wave that hit me and almost knocked me down. So much. Too much. Congregated in that small space. I felt it all.

Yet. In the midst of all that pain, I could feel the small rays of Joy that quietly, faintly, yet determinedly reaching out into the space from numerous sources. While it did not erase all that I was feeling, the fact that I could feel this even in my angst kept me upright and able to function if only in a limited way.

That joy, that determination that exists in people who have been tramped upon, who others have attempted to erase and eradicate, continues to live unbridled. It is life-giving. It is profound. Whether homeless or housed, poverty is often incapacitating. Yet, in many, especially the women, joy is there. Not just surviving but thriving. They know something others have not yet found. That joy breeds hope. Hope lives regardless. Always. And it is never bound by the limits of human imagination or ability.

Louie Crew Clay, Integrity founder and champion of LGBTQ inclusion in the Episcopal Church, saint, activist, lover of all souls, would always sign off his emails or messages with the signature, “Joy anyway!”. I finally fully understand that. Joy anyway. Regardless. No one can take away another’s joy.

I need that Joy of others. Even as I know it exists within me, I need to know it is there, to feel it, to be reminded of the Joy of others. That quiet resistance to repression, oppression, and injustice. That steadfastness that says I am here, and I will be here long after the oppressive regime of the time is only history, dead in the ground.

I am here. Regardless of the cancer, regardless of the struggles in the world or oppressive dictators, regardless of the overwhelming isms that run rampant through the hearts of those who do not know Joy, I and many others will continue to be here.

Joy Anyway! (Thank you, Louie.)

THE Cancer

For what it is worth, after two months of intense pain and a 35+ pound weight loss, I was diagnosed with cancer in February 2025 -- there is a tumor in the transverse colon that has spread to my liver. Obvious the liver is still working even as it has lesions throughout it. Regardless, it is cancer. It is life changing -- in some ways good, in other ways far less than good. 

I have wanted to write about all that is going on. I have wanted to describe all the feelings going through me, including the exhaustion that robs me of a will to do anything other than sit. I have wanted to share the insights, the way the prayers, the love, the healing that happens when we pray for one another. It is really much more difficult that simply sitting down and beginning. It’s worse than any other writer’s block I have had. It feels as if the connection between my brain and my will has been broken.

So, I thought I would just start typing.

One of the things that the medical staff always asks is 1) is there any pain and 2) have I had any thoughts of hurting myself.

Since I began chemo – 12 infusions and 6 months ago – there has been little pain. The before pain was a total disruption of my being. Not only the cancer but an ulcer caused a great deal of pain which I say was at least an 8 on the pain scale. Yet, since chemo began, there is only occasional sporadic hit-me-and -go type of pain. It is far lower on the pain scale and because it is periodic, I say no, just discomfort when asked what I am feeling.

Word doesn’t like me using “the” before the word cancer yet it isn’t just Cancer. It is THE cancer that has invaded my body. THE cancer that causes me to need chemo. THE cancer that causes the need for chemo for my body to be poisoned to be rid of THE cancer. It is THE cancer that keeps me from being able to be in community and to miss special events. It is very personal.

While I have had several thoughts when I feel so badly at times that I wonder how much longer I can continue, or I wonder how I can live with this, there are no thoughts of harming myself. None whatsoever. I am angry, frustrated, irritated, and I say Fuck a lot. I cannot do so many things I did before. I cannot work with my knives on wood. I cannot open simple bottles. I can’t touch anything cold for at least a week after chemo. I can’t even open the damn casement windows in our house to let in soft breezes and cool air. It is a damnable place to be. Did I mention the almost constant nausea? And the blood clot so now I am on Eloquis????? 

I know that this may be a lifetime treatment.

Yet.

I know the chemo has stabilized the cancer, so it is no longer growing. I know that in October, we will discuss a different treatment. I know that millions, gazillions of prayers surround me and hold me, especially on the darkest of days. I feel them. I know. I know that I am loved. I know from seeing people at the Sindelar Cancer Center that there are many people who are going through much worse.

So, here is a beginning. Maybe I will have the whatevers needed to write more later. Maybe this will unleash the flowing waters that will wash away so much dis-ease. I live in Hope.