On Thy Wondrous Works I Will Meditate Psalm 145

I am having one of those overwhelming moments of gratitude. This morning, since there was snow on the ground (just an inch), I decided to forego the ol' morning walk, and head down to the basement where a hardly used, but fancy, elliptical exercise machine keeps watch like a guard at Buckingham Palace (i.e. motionless) in a hardly used exercise room. BC (before cancer) I could get on that machine for 20 minutes at a good brisk pace without much difficulty. I tried it once a few weeks post treatment last November, and after 5 minutes in very slow motion, I was wiped out and ill for the rest of the day. So...after a year of walking, I decided to get back on. And...to my delight, I did 20 minutes, got my heart beat up, worked up a sweat, AND FELT GREAT. Not only that, but I think I am at a weight I wouldn't mind staying at for the next few decades, God willing. Twenty pounds lighter than my BC weight, but perhaps, a perfect weight for my height. Room to put on 5 or so pounds at Holidays, and room to not worry about calories. I am quite pleased, and feel so dang healthy again. It's that feeling of timelessness...that youthful vitality that makes chronological age seem so irrelevent...yes I know I am not 25, but I feel 25 after working out, which, come to think of it, was something I rarely did when I was really 25. So now I'm thinking I want to get that up to 30-40 minutes on the elliptical by spring, and dust off the weight bench and pump a little iron as well. I have fully accepted that I am not going to play 2nd base for the NY Mets; in fact, I don't even think I'll try out for the Cubs... you know, even a reasonably successful Minor League career does not appear to be in the cards. Further, it is highly unlikely that I will learn to play guitar and be the opening act for the Bob Dylan tour. But, having seen Bob Dylan a few years ago...I'm not sure I want to open for him at this point...he's not the Dylan I used to love. So...I guess I'll just keep doing what I'm doing...and practicing gratitude for the good strong days as they come.

Yes I am feeling strong and healthy, yet, there has been given to me a lifetime constant reminder, in the form of a continuously dry throat, a voice that wears down as the day goes on, and some altered taste buds, and the haunting echo still ringing in my ear of the ENT's voice as he pronounced "Stage four cancer"...these shall serve me well...to keep me humble, and appreciative of how far the Lord has brought me in a year...and how every day left is a gift that I have been mercifully given.


Tomorrow, I formally go through a ceremony to begin my year as a Benedictine Oblate Novitiate. And one other thing I must mention. Please pray for my mother-in-law, Barb, who is hospitalized with cancer that has spread to her bone marrow and has had something like a stroke this week, and is unable to speak...and please pray for my wife Kathy, who has attended to enough sick and, yes, dying family members this past year to last a lifetime. In the midst of my gratitude, there is also the real presence of painful sorrow and grief to attend to.

Here's a segment from a great poem by Mary Oliver (they're all great!).

On Thy Wondrous Works I Will Meditate (Psalm 145)
Mary Oliver

Every morning I want to kneel down on the golden
cloth of the sand and say
some kind of musical thanks for
the world that is happening again—another day—
from the shawl of wind coming out of the
west to the firm green

flesh of the melon lately sliced open and
eaten, its chill and ample body
flavored with mercy. I want
to be worthy of—what? Glory? Yes, unimaginable glory.
O Lord of melons, of mercy, though I am
not ready, nor worthy, I am climbing toward you.