New site active

The new site is now active at
https://www.jameslarrycox.com/

If you have trouble, please contact me by text or email. Thank you.

New blog address

For the past three weeks I have been doing a lot of research on Blogger, Squarespace, You Tube and the web in general, to make the transition of my past blog content from this site to my new site on Squarespace. However, before I pull the trigger and try to move all the content, I want you to know that the new address will be www.jameslarrycox.com.

Some of you have already been using that address, and it has redirected you to the Ton Tenga blogspot site. However, right now it only directs you to a blank screen because I have not made the new site public.

I am slow with this process because I am not tech savvy enough to have confidence when I hit those action buttons. I will go live with the SquareSpace site soon, then you will no longer be able to get to my blog with the www.tontenga.blogspot.com address.

Thank you for your patience. 

New Blog Home Soon

Very soon I will be moving my blog site to a new domain and web host. Please be patient as I navigate these changes. This has definitely been a learning experience for me!

Thank you for visiting my blog. Your encouragement is what makes this experience even more enjoyable. 

Wonderfully made

Looking back on this COVID-19 crisis, we will have lots of memories about the things that we did that were uncommon before the crisis I know some of you have taken up gardening for the first time because my kids have been unable to find the garden seeds that I usually buy. And more of you must be cooking because we are shorted several things on every online grocery order. 

All of us will remember what TV programs we binged on. Cheryl and I don’t watch a lot of TV, but we have been watching “Blue Bloods” and “Call the Midwife.” One of our kids suggested “Call the Midwife,” and we have been regularly watching it during the sheltering in place. However, as Allison’s time of giving birth to her fourth child and our sixteenth grandchild approached, we stopped watching it. Too many unusual and crazy things happen on the TV program, so we just decided not to watch it until after the birth. 

The producers of the program worked hard to make it as realistic as possible while keeping the show as decent as possible. Living in West Africa we witnessed childbirth very close up from time to time. There were no hospitals or maternity clinics near us out in the bush, so women had their babies in their villages. There was no midwife to call, so a mother-to-be depended on expertise nearby. Some pregnant mothers came to us and asked us to take them to a small clinic nearby that was manned by the equivalent of a nurse’s aide.

Once a young woman came to us moaning and said she was going to have a baby. Cheryl and I loaded her in our vehicle and headed to that little clinic about 20 minutes from our house. We did not make it. We caught her baby in my bandana—that was the only thing in the Land Cruiser that was “clean.” Baby and Mom did well and both survived our intervention. 

Amanda was born in a clinic with a midwife in Abidjan, Ivory Coast. I was right bedside her “supervising” the midwife, and I was the one to loudly announce, “C’est une fille!” “It’s a girl!” 

Cheryl and I have managed to either be present when a grandchild was born or be there within 24 hours of all but four of our grandchildren. That may not sound like a great feat, but we have had grandkids born in three other countries. 

Our sixteenth grandchild, Noa Edith Dolbeer, was born recently only 2 1/2 hours from our home, and we were not able to be there. That stinks! But it is not the fault of anyone else but me. For a few more weeks I am having to stay away from other people. Thank goodness for FaceTime! We have had regular visits, and she already responds to my voice—OK, so maybe she just had gas or the hiccups. Noa is such a perfect baby.  Of course, I know that she is not perfect, no human is perfect, but right now I long to give her a gentle squeeze and snuggles. 

But Noa is wonderfully made as a creation of God. We are grateful for all of our children and grandchildren for they are each such a special gift from God. 

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”  - Psalm 139:14

Touch

My flight from Calcutta to London was delayed 18 hours, and I had a lot of time on my hands. I had just finished reading the book that I had brought with me on this trip to India. This was during the flip phone era 18 years ago, so I did not have devices to work on or provide entertainment. There was no airport Wifi or any internet connection at all. What I needed was another book.

After finding a small book store in the departure section of the airport, I browsed the window display for books in English. My eyes fell on a book entitled “The 5 Love Languages.” I had heard some people talking about this book, but I had never read it. 

I settled down into a “comfortable” chair in the airport waiting area and read that book in one sitting. It was an amazing read! I only wished that I had read it years before this stage of my life. I was so excited about this book that I sought out the airport post office to place a telephone call to Cheryl back in the USA and tell her about this book. I asked her on the phone to order a copy of this book for each of our four children.

The biggest discovery for me in reading this book was to learn that my love language is touch. If you had given me a list of the five love languages I probably would have guessed touch, but now it was validated: God gave me the love language of touch. 

I like to shake hands, to pat people on the back, to give hugs, and to put my arm around someone or hold their hand when praying for them. Of course, in the workplace I have always had to be careful about expressing my love language. I dislike those side winder hugs from people. I give big hugs!

Cheryl and I are blessed to have 16 grandchildren—newest arrived Friday night (more on that later)—and they all give great hugs. Even our 19 year old grandson, Collin, gives us hugs every time we see him, no matter where we are or who is looking on. I single him out because we only have three grandsons and he is the oldest. I love scratching the backs of any of my grandchildren who enjoy have their backs scratched. I love touching my grandchildren.

And that brings me to today. I have not been able to hug our grandkids for the past nine weeks. The last hugs would have been from our local kids and grandkids at church and in our home for Sunday lunch. The last time anybody but Cheryl has touched me was my last proton therapy treatment on March 20. My treatments compromised my immune system, and my radiation oncologist told me not to have contact with anyone during the healing process.

No touch with any other person other than the main squeeze in my life (Cheryl) in 8 weeks. Now I have had a lot of virtual hugs either via media or when the kids come for a driveway visit where we sit 12 feet apart and talk. 

For two weeks Shelby, our 18 year old granddaughter, lived in the lower level of our home in self-isolation so she could go to Allison’s home to take care of their children while they went to the hospital to have their fourth child. There is a small kitchen and plenty of space on the lower level, and it has a separate entrance, so Shelby would go for a walk each day and did not have to come through the upper floors. 

Shelby was self-isolating so that she would not be infected with anything before going to Allison’s, so she left a week ago without being able to give us a single hug.

Now we are blessed to have Abbey (20) and Madelyn (18) living in the lower level. After riding out the pandemic with friends in Kentucky, they are staying downstairs away from us for two weeks so that they can actually be in close contact with us. 

Today we had a FaceTime visit to meet our newest grandchild—Noa Edith Dolbeer, born Friday night in Nashville. It was a great visit, and Noa cooperated well and even looked right into the phone. We heard her cry as she became hungry, we saw her take a bottle, and saw her burp on Will’s shoulder, but we could not touch this newborn gift. I hurt. I want so badly to cuddle with Noa and establish a lifetime bond between Papa and Noa. But this bizarre time in which we live does not permit me to touch her. I can’t use my love language.

With God’s grace, I know in time I will be able to once again give hugs, but it is hard during this season. Seasons come and seasons go. Some are short and some are long. Some are good and some are not so good. I have said that hundreds of times when giving counsel to others. But right now I need to reassure myself that this will be a short season, and I will be able to express my love language once again. 

The word touch is used many times in the Bible. Here are a few instances that l like:

Then Isaac said to Jacob, "Please come near, that I may touch you, my son, to know whether you are really my son Esau or not." - Genesis 27:21

And all the crowd sought to touch him, for power came out from him and healed them all. - Luke 6:19

See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have." - Luke 24:39

P.S.

A few years after the Calcutta airport story I became friends with Gary Chapman and told him this story. He did not know that his book had even been published in India, so it must have been published without permission from his publisher. So, looks like I learned about the 5 love languages from an illegal copy of the book. That did not hurt the blessing that I received from reading it. Thank you, Gary Chapman! 

Holy Spear

From time to time someone tells me that they remember things from when they were as young as 3 years old. I have heard that the older you get the more you remember things of the ancient past and forget the most frequent things. I admit that I have arrived at that time of life, but I still only remember a couple things from the age of three. I can remember lots of happenings and friendships from age 4 and 5, but not  at age three.

When I was four years old, my friend, Theron, lived in the house behind ours, and our backyards joined. He liked to come play in our yard because we had a swing set with two swings—no, none of that fancy other stuff that you find on today’s swing sets. My mother would mix up cocoa and sugar in a small tin and cut two small twigs for us. We would chew on the twig until the end was frayed, and then we would dip them in the cocoa/sugar mix. That was our way of “dipping snuff.”

Now before you think that my mother was promoting the use of tobacco for preschoolers, remember that this was the 1950s and the use of tobacco products was not taboo. Candy was something that we got for special occasions like Christmas and Easter, so cocoa and sugar was a real treat. 

Another fond memory from my fourth year was my mother kneeling beside my bed each night and reciting a prayer with me: 

Now I lay me down to sleep.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray the Lord my soul to take. 

I talked to my mother this week about that prayer, and she told me that was the prayer that her mother had said with her when she was a little girl. 

I remember being afraid some nights after going to bed. When I called my mother she would come and sit on my bed beside me and comfort me. Sometimes she would remind me that the Holy Spirit was right beside me all night long protecting me. For the longest time, I thought she was saying “Holy Spear!” So, I was terrified even more to know that there was a spear right by my bedside.  

When I was leading missionaries as they opened up new work in Eastern Europe, Cheryl and I had the pleasure of traveling for several weeks with Henry and Marilynn Blackaby. Henry and Marilynn were such an encouragement to these new missionaries who were struggling with learning a new language and getting their families settled into new homes in strange places like Bratislava, Szeged, Ljubljana and Klaipeda. 

One of the things that Henry said when he was teaching us during that season was something like this: Through the ages God has spoken through a variety of means. In the present God primarily speaks by the Holy Spirit, through the Bible, prayer, circumstances, and the church. 

We don’t have to ask the Holy Spirt to be with us for God has promised that His Spirit is ALWAYS with us. 

Ephesians 1:13-14: “When you heard the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and when you believed in Him, you were also sealed with the promised Holy Spirit. He is the down payment of our inheritance, for the redemption of the possession, to the praise of His glory.”

Thank you, Lord, that the “Holy Spear” is always beside us. 

Steward

During this COVID-19 season many people have talked to me about how bored they are because they are having to stay at home. I have not been bored one day. I am not special, but Cheryl and I do have something special—a small farm. We are blessed to have this property of pastures and deep woods to enjoy. I think Cheryl really appreciates the farm more than I do—although she does not get outside the house nearly as much as I do. My getting out of the house has a double bottom line for us: it keeps me from getting stir crazy and bothering her and we are both happiest when I can get some outside therapy each day. 

As I was feeding our cows, goats, ducks and chickens yesterday I was cogitating on this: the word environmentalist has become a negative word to many of us because of some radical movements around the world. The word conservationist is still a positive word. I thought about the differences and similarities of the words. I admitted to myself that I am not a true environmentalist, but I am a conservationist. I do my best to control erosion on our steep property; I preserve hardwoods so future generations will have deep woods on the property; I keep the pond free of algae; I nurture good pasture grasses; I plant fruit-bearing trees and bushes and on and on. I concluded that I am more than a conservationist. I am a steward of our farm. I am a steward of the resources that God has entrusted to me. 

When church members hear the word “steward” many of them automatically think of giving money to the church. However, the first meaning of the word steward in the dictionary is “one who manages another’s property.” 

We don’t rent our farm from a proprietor. We don’t actually own it as there is still money owed on the property. We believe that God is the owner of our farm just as He is the owner of the universe that He created for us to live in, to enjoy and to care for. 

God has entrusted this small piece of property to our family and our job is to do our very best to take care of it. But this responsibility is not just for this land for we are to be good stewards of ALL that the Lord has entrusted to us. 

“This is how one should regard us, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful.” 1 Corinthians 4:1-2

Servant

All of us will have many stories to share in the future about the 2020 pandemic and how it affected us. I think the thing that I will remember most is that we were not able to be with our daughter and family when she had her 2020 child—even though they are less than three hours away. 

Allison and Will will soon be blessed with a fourth child—our 16th grandchild. That is wonderful news especially considering Allison’s recent bout with cancer. Cheryl and I are heartbroken because we will not be able to be there for Allison and Will to help take care of their three preschoolers while Allison and Will are in the hospital and during the first couple weeks to lend a hand with a very active household. 

This has been a topic of concern for our whole family for the past couple of months. Friends have volunteered to keep the children while Allison and WIll will be in the hospital, but in this season that is too big of a risk for their family. Their plan has been for Will and the children to drop Allison off at the hospital and come back and pick her and the baby up. That just sounds wrong! 

Apparently our 18 year-old granddaughter, Shelby, thought so too. She has volunteered to help. On Saturday she moved into the lower level of our home for two weeks of self-imposed isolation to make sure that she is uninfected, and then she will go to help Allison and Will for as long as she is needed .

She is set up on the lower level which has a separate outdoor entrance. We visit outside or on the screened porch or deck on our level. Shelby has a small kitchen downstairs, but Cheryl is preparing food regularly and leaving some at the top of the stairs for Shelby. The arrangement works, but it is so impersonal. How I miss hugs from family and friends!

Like many people, Cheryl and I have been alone in our home for several weeks, and now it is so great to hear someone else in the house—especially to hear Shelby downstairs singing praise songs and laughing at a TV program or movie. 

I am so proud of Shelby. She is graduating from high school, but she is exhibiting the maturity of someone much older. She is truly being a servant for our whole family as she has volunteered to serve Allison and family during this special time of their lives.

Thank you, Shelby, for showing our family what it means to serve one another. 

“As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace”- 1 Peter 4:10

The end

This morning a good friend from Texas sent me a text to let me know that their beloved dog had passed away. He talked about how sad it was, but he also talked about the joy his family experienced for many years with that pet. It is easy to get attached to our pets. 

Only twice have we had an inside pet. One time was before and just after having children. We decided that our house was not big enough for two boys and a pet, so the inside pet became an outside pet. The other time we had an inside dog was when we moved a teenage girl and an adolescent girl from the USA to Germany, and one of their
“deals” they worked out with their parents was that we would let them have an inside dog. I don’t remember a very long period when we did not have a dog as a pet—no matter where we lived. But a cat—I can count those times we have had an outside cat on my hand—and never have we had an inside cat.

On February 8 I wrote a blog entitled “Cats.” I talked about my lack of fondness for cats, but my great fondness for Viola, our farm cat. Today, Viola died. Yes, I was sad. I buried her in the pasture, and before I knew it I was thanking God for letting us have Viola for these past 12 years. I have buried a lot of farm animals over the years, but I don’t ever remember saying a prayer when they died.

Often I have heard some people refer to “dog heaven” or “cat heaven.” I am sure that they really don’t believe that an eternal life exists for their pet, but it is strange to think of an animal having a similar eternal state as mankind. 

It is good that God designed everything so that we would have dominion over animals, fish and fowl while basing our diet on some of them and enjoying others as pets and companions (What is your all time favorite dog movie? Mine is “My Dog Skip.”)

Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth." - Genesis 1:26

But the best news from that passage is not about the relationship between man and his creatures—even though Americans will spend over sixty billion dollars on their pets this year. The best news is that God made us in His own image to live among each other, but when we could not do that successfully he sent Jesus to redeem mankind. Praise! Our passing is not the end, but it is the beginning of our eternal life. Mine is vested in the Lord Jesus. How about yours

My voice

 In West Africa we had Moscovy ducks which are very hardy ducks that could survive the harsh arid climate. Living on the farm here in Georgia for the past 12 years, we have enjoyed having Moscovy ducks. We have two small ponds, and the ducks love the habitat. However, for ten years I had to buy new ducks each year because of predators. A hawk has consumed about 3 dozen over the years, but the biggest varmints are the raccoons, possums, and foxes. On really cold nights when the ponds freeze over, the varmints can consume a large portion of my duck population. 

The biggest feasting for the predators is when baby ducks are hatched, and one single predator can eat its way through a dozen ducklings. Sorry for all you animal lovers who don’t like to hear stories like this, but I am just stating farm facts. I got tired of losing baby ducks and then having to buy ducks to replenish my flock, so I decided to start looking for the duck nests and then trying to capture the mother duck and the ducklings and place them in a secure varmint-proof pen. 

Late last winter (2019) I had a male and four female ducks to survive the predators. I was able to raise a dozen ducklings to maturity. At the end of this winter, I had nine ducks to survive—partly because some of those I raised spent the night up near our barn and guardian dog and not on the pond. So far this year I have 31 ducklings in three separate pens.  I am having to be mom to ten of them because their mother did not cooperate to raise them as a captive in a pen. 

The ducklings are naturally afraid of people, and when I am near their pen they run away and cower in the farthest corner of their pen. I discovered yesterday that when I am near their pen, if I talk to myself, it has a calming effect on the ducks. It is almost like they know my voice. I am not sure about ducks, but my goats and cows definitely know my voice.

A few years ago we were having a board meeting at my colleague’s farm south of Atlanta. During the meeting, we took a break and walked out to the fence line behind my colleague’s home because he wanted to show his cows to our board member friends. Unfortunately, the cows were nowhere near us. It was a hot muggy July day, so he said that the cows were probably down in the swampy area keeping cool. He said we would have to wait and come back later when the temperature was cooler to see the cows. 

My cows have made their annual “conjugal visit” to this farm every year for the past 14 years, so at the time our board meeting was going on, my cows were mixed in with my colleague’s cows. I said to the group that I could call the cows up to the fence. They looked at one another and one of them said, “Oh sure” in kind of a smart aleck tone. Then the group had a good laugh at me, but I was undeterred and all of a sudden I let out a yell that startled the group. After their shock, they all had another laugh. Nothing happened, so I let out another yell, and we heard the faint moos of a cow. The sounds grew louder, and after a couple of minutes the large herd of cows led by my alpha cow, named Jolene, came running right up to the fence where we stood. 

All my board friends just stood there with their mouths open! I just said to them, ”My cows know my voice and they come when I call them.” A fellow board member from Australia said, “Indeed they do old chap.” 

Today I read John 10.  Verse 27 says, “My sheep hear my voice... and they come.” I had a phone conversation with a friend this morning about the biblical elder role. Foremost among the qualifications outlined in the Bible is that an elder is a shepherd. The role of the elder is to smell like the sheep that he leads. How does that happen? By living among those sheep and sharing life with them. One of the things that I miss most during this shelter-in-place season is being around other sheep. I miss my family, my friends, my fellow church members. I miss sharing life with them. 

Zoom is good, but it is a pitiful substitute for shaking hands, sharing hugs, and just being close to family and friends. Thank you, Lord, for this season, for it has taught us much about what we enjoy in life and how little we have thanked you and praised you for those opportunities to share life with our family and friends.  

COVID 1960

I saw an article entitled something like “What If This Had Happened in 2005.” All the news these days is about COVID-19, and I decided two weeks ago that I will limit my exposure to the news during this crisis. I turned on the TV news a couple times over the last few days, but the news media producers and writers are having to “scratch the bottom of the barrel” to maintain their Nielsen ratings. It seemed to me that some of the people they are interviewing really don’t know much about what is going on except what they are also reading on the web, so I have decided to just stick with picking and choosing what I want to digest from my internet news feeds.

That article made me start thinking—OK, I admit that I was in the shower where I generate a lot of thoughts and receive some of my inspiration for cogitating later on. I wasn’t thinking about 2005, but about what if this had happened sixty years ago. 

In 1960 my maternal grandmother did not have running water in the house, much less a telephone. She had electricity thanks to government programs subsidizing rural electric cooperatives. She had an electric “ice box”, but she had no TV. One light bulb hung from the ceiling of each of the four rooms in her primitive farmhouse. 

A Coronavirus probably would not have reached my grandmother’s homestead. But we lived in the big city—population around 20,000! We had all the modern conveniences, and we even had a television. My parents received the local newspaper and still listened to the radio for local news and gossip. I didn’t know anyone who had traveled to another country except some uncles who had served in the military. Our world was small and our lives provincial. 

If there had been a Coronavirus during 1960, and a stay-at-home order had been issued, we would not have had deliveries to our home from internet orders, but we might have had deliveries from the grocery store. Lysol and Clorox were around but not in the handy-wipe versions. Vinyl gloves were not available to the public, nor were face masks. No fast food restaurants, much less drive-throughs for food or pharmacies or banking. There was no technology that would have allowed us to contact my grandmother who lived 30 miles away. 

Are we blessed during this Coronavirus? Yes, indeed. First of all we are blessed to have good health. We are blessed to be so prepared for such a crisis. How blessed we are to have technology that allows Cheryl and me to see our families on our devices. How blessed we were to celebrate Easter today with our church family via FaceBook live. Thank you, Lord, for the grace and joy we have in You that sustains us during crises in our lives. 

It’s Easter! Rejoice and give thanks for all our blessings!

Chosen family

I grew up with my family in Mississippi—my dad and mom and two younger brothers. Bubba is five years younger than I, and Danny is 15 years younger. I left home for college at 17, and I did not turn 18 until I had finished my first semester of college. I did not get to know Danny other than as a baby—all I remember is having to change his diapers!

The five of us were a tight family who spent a lot of time together. My mom had 11 brothers and sisters. Three of her brothers lived in Texas with their families and two other brothers were divorced, so long distances and split families meant that I did not get to know some of my cousins. I don’t really know to this day how many first cousins I have.

My dad had only two younger sisters and they lived with their families in the same town where I grew up, so we spent a lot of time with them—especially on holidays. 

Of course, our church family was an important part of our lives, too. My grandad and grandmother went to the same church as we did.

My immediate family has remained close even though we lived overseas for many years, but we could always pick up right where we left off. We all have a natural family with whom we share the same lineage.

When I left home at 17, I never lived there again as I went to college or worked away from home every summer during college. Cheryl and I started making friends together in our early college years and today my best friend from college and his wife remain very close friends. We have enjoyed vacationing together over the past 30+ years. Our kids call them “uncle” and “aunt.” 

A seminary friend and I were called to the same church in Florida on  the same day. We have been friends of this couple for 48 years. They called us this week just to catch up on us.(Hasn’t it been great how we have all been checking on one another during this crisis!) 

So many missionary colleagues have been part of our larger family over the past 45 years. Our kids have many, many aunts and uncles with whom we have served on three continents. We enjoy getting together each year with some special former missionary colleagues. We meet in our home, and we all look forward to that time of just talking and eating and talking and eating. This past weekend was scheduled to be our annual get together time. Of course we could not meet, so we did the next best thing—we spent Saturday morning together with the help of that rising company called Zoom. The girls were on one call and the guys on another. It wasn’t as good as being in person, but it was a sweet time! 

Cheryl and I have come to call many of these relationships outside our natural families our chosen family. During different seasons of our lives we have had many people in our chosen family. Living in different parts of the world we have not had any of our natural family near us. So we have chosen others to be our family, and in many cases, these are people we love as much as our natural family.

Thank you, Lord, for our natural families, and for allowing us to have a chosen family. 

Do you know the song that goes like this:

I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God.

I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood.

Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod.

I’m a part of the family. The family of God

Windows

In all this Coronavirus mess I am hearing of friends and family who are so stressed. Granted, it is a time to be cautious and above all intelligent about staying healthy.

We are so accustomed to fast-paced living and operating from a full calendar, but now most people are working from home these days. That can certainly lead to even more stress and anxiety in the household. 

Cheryl and I are blessed to live on a small farm. We live on the side of a hill—they call them mountains in north Georgia—and out of every window we see the handiwork of God. During the last couple of weeks I have enjoyed more than ever looking out those windows. I marvel at the new growth on the trees, the farm animals grazing new grass, and the return of the hummingbirds. This virus has not affected all these beautiful creations one little bit. 

You might not live in a setting as we do where we can’t see our closest neighbors’ houses. Even if you live in a high rise building in the city you can still spend time alone with the Lord looking out a window at all of His creation. 

Maybe one of the messages that the Lord is sending us through this crisis is that we need to look out our windows and allow Him to speak to our hearts in quietness and solitude. 

1 Peter 5:6,7 Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.

Getting stronger

I just realized that I have not reported on my health condition in a while.  

My last “full” treatment was on March 12. As I have mentioned in a previous post the proton machine was inoperable for several days, so my treatments did not resume until March 18. I was scheduled to have 30 full treatments, and then the last three were to be smaller treatments called boosts. They were of shorter duration and gave me only two blasts of protons where I normally had three blasts. 

Since the last three were lighter treatments, I really did not have any more full blasts after March 12, so I have had over two weeks to begin the healing process.

I was thrilled when the mouth sores abated and I could enjoy eating once again. It had a been a chore to chew and to even talk at times during my treatment. During this past week the big glob in my throat has diminished, and some of my taste buds have returned, so I am enjoying tasting food once again. 

During the treatments I had to maintain the same weight as when they measured me for my mask and did the scans to set up the doses of protons. I had a surgery in November, then it was Thanksgiving. I had a surgery in December and then it was Christmas time. And all during these recovery times I was not getting any exercise, so I gained 10+ pounds. I was planning on getting it off as soon as the holidays and my recovery period was over, but then, alas, the medical team told me not to lose any weight. All this to say that I am no longer having milk shakes or ice cream every day, and I hope to lose that weight soon. 

My energy level is improving each day, and I am enjoying taking on some chores on the farm that have been neglected for the past five months. 

Since my immune system has been compromised Cheryl and I have refrained from seeing any people—including family members, much to my disappointment.

The next step is to have a follow up visit with my surgeon, but I am not in a hurry to see him while all this virus mess is still brewing. My radiation oncologist’s office will be scheduling another PET scan in June.

I am grateful to you who are reading this blog and so many others around the world for your prayer support and encouragement over the past five months. Thank you! 

Hearing and listening

When Emma, one of our twelve granddaughters, was in kindergarten she was the only child in her class who could tie their shoes. Her teacher was very impressed, and she asked Emma, “Who taught you how to tie your shoes?” Emma quickly responded, “I just taught myself.” There was nothing unusual about that conversation, but later Emma said to her teacher, “I taught myself to talk!”

Over the years I have whispered “papa” in the ears of our grandchildren beginning in their infancy, and many of them have whispered “papa” as one of their first words.

Tonight, we were on FaceTime visiting with Allison and Will’s children. Pete is 17 months old, and it seems he understands everything—OK, most everything—but he is not talking yet. I was drilling Pete whispering “papa” over and over but to no avail. Cheryl even tried getting him to say “papa”—I think just so I would stop trying to bug the boy every time we get on a video visit.

Most parents are eager to hear their child start talking. However, many parents are not too concerned about what their children hear in their home.

A few years ago, Cheryl told me numerous times that I could not hear well. I disagreed with her—imagine that—but in the end I decided to do something about my hearing. I was just completing my annual physical and I asked the nurse if they had the capacity to give me a hearing test in their office. She said that they did and showed me to a very small room where they did hearing tests.

When I finished the hearing test, I was anxious to know the results, so I asked her how I did. She replied, “Mr. Cox, you have perfect hearing.” I said, “Can you repeat that?” Well, I didn’t really ask her that, but it is funny anyway. I did tell her that I could not wait to get home to tell my wife.

Upon arriving home, I told Cheryl, “Guess what I had done at the doctor’s office today? I had a hearing test, and the nurse told me I had perfect hearing!”

In an instant, Cheryl replied, “Then something is wrong with your listening!” She got me…

It is true that we don’t listen to everything that we hear. Hearing is one of the five senses, and we hear many things that we don’t understand. Listening is a communication technique that lets us understand, interpret and put meaning to what we hear.

I don’t know how many times when our kids were growing up that I would ask them, “Did you hear what I said?” If I was as smart as I am now, I should have asked them, “Did you listen to what I said?”

Kids of all ages are hearing everything and listening to most of what we say.

Lord may all our words be kind so that when others are listening, our words will be pleasing to You and edifying for those around us.  

Encourage

What a time we live in! Who would have dreamed two months ago that a submicroscopic infectious agent that can only replicate inside a living cell of an organism would turn the world upside down? 

Some of you are hunkered down with family members, but Cheryl and I are unable to have anyone in our home at this time because my immune system has been compromised. 

Yesterday Jeremy and Darby drove up to run some errands for us. They bought feed for the animals and a few grocery items. It was so hard not to hug them or get close to them. We did virtual hugs, but that did not help the heartache of not being able to touch them. 

I have not been a fan of social media, but now we are using it more to stay in touch. Cheryl has been on FaceBook for years, but she is one of those who just reads and never responds (so don’t expect to hear from her!). I am a stalker—I look over her shoulder to look at pics of our grandchildren. Most grandkids aren’t into blogs. They want something shorter and more instant gratification. So, recently I set up an Instagram account—again to keep up with grandkids and what is going on in their lives. (LarryCox354) We have a family group set up on the ap called Marco Polo, so we love sending video messages back and forth. You can create silly messages using weird voices. OK. Some of you are thinking that radiation fried Larry’s brain! Remember that we have 15 grandkids so I don’t mind acting like one of the preschoolers. 

FaceTime has been a wonderful tool for many years for our family as we have been so separated by oceans. It would have been so great to have had such technology when we lived in West Africa where our only communication was snail mail, and this was truly the pace of a snail as it took 3 weeks for an air letter (described in a previous blog) to get to us. To help you understand how little technology was available at that time, when we left Burkina Faso in May 1987 I had only seen one personal computer at a USAID office, and our mission office in Ouagadougou had just bought its first fax machine. 

But we have all these wonderful devices and software available now and I believe that God would be pleased with us if we were to use all this technology to encourage one another. This morning I called a few church members just to encourage them. I think it made them feel better and it surely made me feel good. Cheryl called some widows in our church earlier this week. Those were important connections with the family of God. 

While you are encouraging family members and church family, don’t forget to pray for those who are still working to provide electricity, gas and water for us and for those who who are providing other services such waste disposal, transportation of goods, stores which are providing us with food and supplies, and on and on. 

Don’t forget the first responders. Our son-in-law, Jeff, is a firefighter and his twin brother, John, is a police officer here in Rome, Georgia. Jeff is also an EMT so he is the first contact at most emergencies and cannot keep from getting in the face of victims. Pray for these women and men who are keeping us safe. When you have the opportunity, encourage them, buy their meals if they are in the drive-through, take some homemade cookies by the police station or fire hall. 

Times of crisis brings out the best in most people. Encourage one another! 

For I long to see you, that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to strengthen you, that is, that we may be mutually encouraged by each other's faith, both yours and mine. - Romans 1:11-12 

Ringing the bell

What is your favorite season? Mine is autumn. Seasons are predictable in that we know about when they will begin and when they will end. We know what changes the new season will bring. Right now I am thinking pollen! Spring is beautiful, but the pollen drives my sinuses crazy. 

Life is all about seasons. Some seasons are long and some are short. Some we can’t wait to finish and some we want to last forever. Some are memorable, and some we have forgotten. 

I have just completed a season today. It’s the season of getting fried by proton beams. I must say that I am very pleased with this experience compared to the expected side effects of the regular external beam photon treatments. Regardless of what type of radiation treatment one has, they all are meant to do one thing—kill cells in your body. The proton beams have been laser-focused in a tight area to kill potential carcinogenic cells near my sub-mandibular salivary gland. 

Granted I have had some side effects—loss of taste buds, mouth sores, difficulty swallowing and a big glob stuck in the back of my throat all the time—but these are all part of this season. They too will end with the passing of this season.

I completed my 33 treatments today. At the Emory Proton Center when a patient completes their treatment, they have a small ceremony concluded by the patient ringing the brass bell prominently hung on the wall in the lobby (see photo on Instagram: LarryCox354). Ringing the bell symbolizes the completion of treatment, but it also symbolizes hope for the patient that their life will return to their normal and that they will be cancer free. 

As some of you readers have experienced in your own life, one is not pronounced cancer free right away. It varies with each type of cancer and with each person. When I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2011, I was treated with proton therapy in Jacksonville, Florida in April and May of 2012, and I had the opportunity to ring the bell at the University of Florida Proton Therapy Institute. However, it was only in 2018 that I was able to get my radiation oncologist to nod his head when I asked him, “So, can I say that I am cancer-free now?” 

Don’t you wish that we could all have a brass bell that we could ring when we are ready for a season to end. But we are not in control of life’s seasons. The Bible says, “He made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting.”  - Psalm 104:19

We often read and quote this familiar passage of scripture: 

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” - Ecclesiastes 3:1

But the real message is on down in verse 12:

“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live”- Ecclesiastes 3:12

God intends for us to live life at its fullness in every season—even in this Covid-19 season! Stop complaining about what we can’t do and start living life at its fullness every second of every day. Jesus died that we may have life—and have it more abundantly. Do good! Be kind! Give praise!

WAWA

Have you ever worked on a project that would mobilize people for a specific task? It takes an enormous amount of resources—time, financial, physical and emotional—to prepare people for a special program, event, or project. Then, just when you are ready to launch you receive word that the program, project or event has been scratched! 

Very frustrating! Many times over the years I have used the expression “All dressed up with no where to go.” There’s not much else you can do. Circumstances beyond your control scratch the whole mission and all you can do is wallow in self pity. 

While living in West Africa we would often stand in line at a government office for over an hour to get an official stamp on a document that we needed to either get a package out of customs, to get a permit for something, or to make a special purchase of something that was in limited supply. After waiting for a lengthy time, the person behind the window or desk would announce that he or she was closing for the day. Mind you there were no hours posted nor were there any other places to go to get what you needed. 

On other occasions you would be lined up at the post office to buy stamps. When your turn finally came after a 20 minutes wait they would say you are in the wrong line or sometimes they would say, ”We are out of stamps today.” 

One time when Cheryl was shopping she found some canned chips. She bought several packages on our once a month shopping trip to Ouagadougou. The next month when we returned there were none on the shelves, so she asked someone in the store. They said that they sold so fast that they could not keep them on the shelf so they decided not to order any more!!

Every time something like this would happen, all the westerners in West Africa would just say to themselves (or sometimes they might want to yell), “WAWA!” WAWA stands for West Africa wins again! There was absolutely nothing that you could do about the circumstances, and you needed some comic relief, so you would just have to be satisfied with saying WAWA. 

This morning we awakened early, had breakfast and dressed to drive into Atlanta for my 31st treatment. I have not had a treatment since last Thursday as the cyclotron has not been operable. Yesterday they called me very early to let me know that I would not be having a treatment, but this morning they did not call. After trying to get someone on the phone for an hour, we got all dressed up and ready to go. I decided to try a different office at Emory and finally received word that the machine is still not working. Cheryl was on one side of the kitchen bar and I was on the other looking at each other and we both said, “All dressed up and no where to go!” That was a WAWA moment. 

Hopefully the malfunction technicians will have the monster machine working soon so I can have my final three treatments. 

Circumstances

Thursday night I was in my hotel room in Atlanta. All my treatments this past week have been at 9:15am. Until this week the treatments have all been in the afternoon. I received a phone call from Emory Proton Center telling me that the big cyclotron machine was inoperable, so there would be no treatments on Friday. So there I was sitting in Atlanta all day Thursday waiting for my Friday morning treatment only to find out that I had wasted all that time.

I was angry. Why couldn’t they call sooner? This is a $150million machine so how can it have malfunctions that shut them down for a whole day? Now I would have to add a treatment on the end of my treatment schedule. I have finished 30 treatments, so this means I will have to go for a treatment on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday next week. 

We all wrestle with circumstances beyond our control almost every day. Right now we are all hunkering down because of the Coronapocalypse. We have been angry because our favorite store does not have any toilet paper left (go figure—why are people hoarding TP??—this is a viral infection of the respiratory system!!), the Clorox wipes shelf is empty and all the Lysol spray disappeared days ago. What are we going to do? 

I went into Costco on Wednesday to buy one item—yes, it was a crazy idea, but I was on a mission to make kids happy. We sent an Atlanta United pullover to our son-in-law for part of his birthday gift, but it did not fit. Well, you know how it is at Costco and Sam’s. If you don’t buy it today, it may not be there tomorrow, so I was instructed to go to Costco and buy a larger size. The parking lot was a mess. I had to park in the area the furtherest away from the front of the store—you know that area where no one ever parks. As I was trekking towards the store, a man with a buggy full of goods  said to me, “You don’t want to do this.” I was not sure what he meant. When I walked into the store, I found out. It was packed!  The checkout line stretched all the way to the back of Costco—no kidding! 

I wasn’t about to wait in one of those lines with dozens of carts lined up just to make one purchase. As I was walking out I started feeling guilty because I know how much this particular person LOVES Atlanta United soccer team and how disappointed he would be if I did not get him a shirt that would fit him. So I did a u-turn and zigzagged through the maze of loaded carts and picked out the right size and then looked way back in the store at the end of the line. I shook my head and decided that I would try to get checked out at the Customer Service desk. 

I maneuvered through the carts and stood in line at the service desk for a few minutes deciding how I could persuade the clerk to check me out. As my turn approached, I examined the shirt and was surprised that I had picked up the wrong size. Yes, I did. So it was back through the maze to retrieve the right size and get back in line at the service desk. When my turn came I was informed that they were not allowed to check out anyone at the Customer Service desk. I was angry again at the circumstances that placed me in this predicament—panic buying by people so scared that their only reaction is to buy things like a hoarder. All these people were causing me anguish and I was not happy. As I walked away in despair, the clerk said to me, “Why don’t you try the pharmacy? They may let you check out back there.” Well it was nice of her to suggest that, and her nicety shocked me out of my feeling sorry for myself. I realized that I could not control my circumstances, but I could control how I react to them. As I walked to the other side of the store through the buggies once again, I was more polite with people and asked them to excuse me instead of just plowing through them. Most of them responded with kind remarks and a smile. I was definitely in a better mood because I was spreading cheer and people were reciprocating with their own versions of cheer. 

After getting back into my car in the back forty of the parking lot, I remembered a quote from Martha Washington: “I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition.”

And, yes, the clerk at the pharmacy told me that they did not usually check out anyone who did not have a prescription, but since I was so kind, she would be happy to check me out. 

One more quote and this one from Coach Lou Holtz: “Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.”

Waiting

Our family has kidded Amanda over the years about two words that she frequently used. All the family would be ready to go somewhere, and we were waiting on Amanda. One of us would yell and tell Amanda to come on and we were waiting on her. Her response was always: “I’m coming!” Those two words could mean many things such as I will be there in 10 seconds or I will be there in 10 minutes. But it was always the same response from Amanda.

I thought of this today as I was having my treatment. Each of the proton therapy gantries must wait their turn for the proton beam. Each of my treatments consist of bursts of proton beams from three different angles. So the therapists must get the machine lined up for the next burst and then wait on our turn for the protons. Usually the timing is such that we don’t have to wait longer than a few minutes between the three angles. 

But today was not the usual day. The first angle took FOREVER (meaning maybe 10 minutes, but you have to remember that I have that bite block stuffed in my mouth and that mask binding my head to the table)! Then, the second angle took equally as long and finally the last angle took even longer. 

I did a lot of thinking about waiting while on the treatment table today. We spend a lot of our lives waiting. Want to get a person riled? Talk to them about sitting in the “waiting room” of a doctor’s office! We wait in line at the post office—there always seems to be a line! We wait to pay for our groceries, at Target, at Walmart. I was at a sub sandwich shop today to buy a take out sandwich for a friend. I waited 20 minutes for the sandwich! There were four people behind the counter; there were four people who had placed orders , so what took so long? I had my treatment this morning and I am at a hotel 10 miles from Emory. It took me 45 minutes to get there. Yes, I was waiting—to get on the interstate, then the traffic comes to a grinding halt and I have to stop and wait.  Ever add up how many minutes of your life you spend in a typical day waiting for traffic lights to change? 

A I was lying on the table today the Lord reminded me that there is one kind of waiting that we don’t do enough—waiting on the Lord. We want the Lord to speak to us, and we want Him to do it right now. 

“But they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.“ - Isaiah 40:31

Thank you, Lord, for reminding me that in quietness and waiting is when you are most likely to speak to my heart.