September 06, 2004
Gifts of the Journey
I am sure that everyone who faces a terminal illness has experienced the clarity of communication which comes when there is little else to say. This blog contains many memories and reflections which are gifts of those I know and love. In one sense it is a little embarrassing to read such positive and complementary things about oneself—all the while knowing that there are other and less positive stories to be told if all were to be revealed.
On the other hand, facing two rather advanced cancers has given me the opportunity to be open and candid with my family about my hope and concerns, and especially about my love for them. We normally end each phone conversation with "I love you" which is true, if somewhat cliched.
That simple phrase has taken on new meaning in the past few weeks and has become even more precious. In addition to such expressions of relationship my son Martin wrote a poem during the waiting in the hospital. I share it not so much because it reflects positively upon me, but because it is a precious gift from a beloved child. And, it's good!
For Pop, Postop
A little boy says "my dad is my hero"
the terms are
feats of strength
whoops of violence
he says:
dad can lick your dad
can lift a thousand pounds..
a car!
save a building burning.
He thinks muscles,
recites comic bookery.
At 35 I say:
My dad is my hero.
his illustrations inked with
pun powered pen
His speech balloons
exclaim that a hero can be
a gentle man
show kind
care
a man can transform
into a hero
without pummeling a soul
he can fight the good fight
and face the darkest fears
with good nerve
In civilian clothes, or stole-
draped uniform (white--
the color of good)
he practices what he preaches
his manner
teaches
Knowing his faith, he faces
egos, not
devils
My dad is my hero.
I brag about him on my courtyard
during my recesses and
way-after school activities
unlike a child, my claims
aren't blown-up,
zonked or kazzowed, blasted or
gazoozled
They are gospel truth
Starting with "My dad is..."
they differ from childhood counterparts
in their endings
Listing them would be novel
I'm trying to be graphic
My dad is my hero.
He didn't close me into
cells, even for the
sake of plot or
page turning
He gave me frustrating
freedom, and while
I wasn't looking, made
sure that no
buildings crumpled
over me.
faced with a villainous kidney,
he fronted mortality with the
same grace he fronts
morality
His kryptonited body
strongly
straightening itself
over hibernating
days
He's my hero
As a child I asked:
"Dad, have you ever cried?"
He answered:
"I cried the day you were
born because I was so happy."
At 35 I say:
I hope I can be just like him when I grow up.
Martin McClellan
Posted by Donel at September 6, 2004 03:43 PM
Dear Donel and Marilyn,
Yokwe from the Marshall Islands. I am just at the turning point between the two weeks. While the work here is important and challenging, I'm looking forward to being back in the US.
Thanks for including such a complete picture of the diagnosis. It helps to know and not wonder as we all try to be supportive! And, what a poet your son is. Thank you for sharing his feelings and talent.
I hadn't realized that the Marshalls have many UCC churches so upon my return I will have a place to worship. The poverty here is overwhelming. I'm working with the Ministry o Education to develop a system and infrastructure to certify teachers beyond the high school degree that most hold at this point.
Take care,
Sharon
I'm with Martin! You have taught all of us a great deal about hard laughter and facing the tough stuff with openness, clarity, and grace. Much love to you from Singapore!
Kudos to Martin.
He has clearly inherited his Dad's way with words - and the album cover is inspired. I can't wait to hear the music! The "gut-bucket" pun is SOOO McClellan.
Don and Marilyn: Placerville is not far from all the latest in medical tech - including UCDavis Medical Center. It ain't Alaska, but . . .
I'll begin teaching a class on FaithStories this Sunday. Just so you know: I'm organizing the first session around Don's role in my life (the right words at the right time); Don's poem "Epitaph" (some simple words to sum up my life / my faith); and Martin's poem (what simple lines might someone who knew us well write of us).
Thanks for the inspiration - and I don't just mean the poems.
Bob
Martin's gift for words and poetry sums up what is also felt from Goshen Road. Much love to you, Donel, and gratitude for the way you show me the way.
Good morning. I hope you're continuing to feel better and better as the days go on. The poem is wonderful. Thanks for sharing. Barb
Greetings to Donel and family... Donel, please know that you have been lifted up in prayer at many, many faith communities in Bellingham. We are now rejoicing at your ongoing, wonderful progress and are looking forward to the always intriguing, interfaith interactions that your presence brings. May God continue to support and spar with you on the adventure ahead. Your Disciple cousin, Gary.
Wow, Martin. How beautiful your poem is. And thank you, Don, for sharing it with all of us.
It's always good to hear good news. Keep it coming. By the way, Alaska will be there for a while and you will enjoy it even more when you are able to go.
You are always in our thoughts and prayers.
Anita & Chuck
Dear Donel and Marilyn,
Yokwe from the Marshall Islands. I am just at the turning point between the two weeks. While the work here is important and challenging, I'm looking forward to being back in the US.
Thanks for including such a complete picture of the diagnosis. It helps to know and not wonder as we all try to be supportive! And, what a poet your son is. Thank you for sharing his feelings and talent.
I hadn't realized that the Marshalls have many UCC churches so upon my return I will have a place to worship. The poverty here is overwhelming. I'm working with the Ministry o Education to develop a system and infrastructure to certify teachers beyond the high school degree that most hold at this point.
Take care,
Sharon
Posted by: Sharon at September 6, 2004 08:27 PM