PHILL PHINE DINGS

SUCCESS

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 12:06:00 +0000

When I was young I had thoughts about what constituted success. I remember telling someone, as an elementary school student, I would have “Doctor” as a title. I did not know or care in what field I would be “Doctor.”

When I got to middle school I defined success in three stages. First, in college I would be an All-America basketball player. Then, I would turn pro and become a millionaire. Finally, I would be elected President of the United States.

Now as I live in my autumn years (the best and brightest color is yet to come), I reflect on where I have been. I did not become “Doctor.” However, I did earn a Master’s degree. Though I still love basketball, I did not go far with my skills. I did have a college roommate who was a three-time All- America in golf. I did not become a millionaire. Yet I often tell people I am a very rich man, though I have little money. I am thankful I lost interest in politics.

I take solace in two poems about “Success.” It is unclear who the author of the first one was. Apparently it has been erroneously attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson. A similar but longer poem was written by Bessie Anderson Stanley in 1904. The words in both poems speak encouragement and truth to me.

“What is Success”
by Ralph Waldo Emerson (?)

To laugh often and love much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the approval of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give of one’s self;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived…
This is to have succeeded.

“Success”
by Bessie Stanley

He has achieved success
who has lived well,
laughed often, and loved much;
who has enjoyed the trust of pure women,
the respect of intelligent men
and the love of little children;
who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
who has left the world better than he found it
whether by an improved poppy,
a perfect poem, or a rescued soul;
who has never lacked appreciation of Earth's beauty
or failed to express it;
who has always looked for the best in others
and given them the best he had;
whose life was an inspiration;
whose memory a benediction.

Below is a slideshow with descriptions of success.

Success Poem

EASTER 2011 AFTERNOON

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 03:42:00 +0000

This Easter afternoon my wife Cissy and I hosted our children and grandchildren. There were 17 of us present, missing only Evan, who was in Wisconsin with his girlfriend visiting her parents.

We had a delicious lunch, followed by Easter egg hunt, and then playing in the creek and eating dessert by the rope swing.

WHEN I SURVEY

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 18:35:00 +0000

On this day we remember the suffering and death of Jesus on the Cross for our sins, mine and yours. I believe with many others that the greatest hymn ever written is “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.” Isaac Watts wrote the words in 1707 and Lowell Mason the music in 1824.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Today I read an article “Mercifully Forsaken” by Mark Galli. He makes the point that “There is a reason Good Friday is called good, and why we can be thankful when God forsakes us.”

BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 20:52:00 +0000

After my parents died seven years ago within a few months of each other in North Carolina, I transplanted some of their flowers to our home in Georgia. Earlier this spring the forsythia bloomed brilliantly.

Yesterday I noticed the lily of the valley has sprouted back out of the ground. Today the first bud of the iris opened.

With the transplanted flowers it is like the beauty and life of my parents continue on as a very tangible reminder to me. "Bloom where you are planted."

JOURNEY WITH JEHOVAH-JIREH

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 11:40:00 +0000

I have spent a number of hours editing my CaringBridge entries that I am adapting for an ebook. As I continue adding posts, I hope to publish it in September, after the critical one hundred days following my bone marrow transplant. My working title is “Conquering Cancer by Grace” and the sub-title is “Journey with Jehovah-Jireh.”

Grace is a great word for me in conquering cancer. For years I have tried to plumb the meaning of this word “grace.” I have settled on some words by the Apostle Paul that I believe describe grace. Paul wrote in his letter to the church in Philippi, “It is God who is at work in you, both to will and to do His good pleasure.” I think those words get at the meaning of grace.

The subtitle, “Journey with Jehovah-Jireh,” has to do with a name of God. The name Yahweh, or Jehovah, is known as the sacred name of God in the Hebrew Scriptures. When a Bible translation has LORD in all capital letters, it signifies Jehovah.

Other descriptions of God’s activity give fuller revelation of His character. In the first book of the Bible is the account of Abraham when he was asked to sacrifice his son Isaac. At just the right moment, God provided a ram instead. Abraham called this place Jehovah-Jireh, “The-Lord-Will-Provide” (Genesis 22:14).

Cissy and I have seen God provide for our needs over and over again in the last year in our cancer ordeal. This journal is a testimony to our great God. We have learned much during this experience. We find God's provisions are always greater than our problems.

In a wonderful way God has provided a bone marrow donor for me. My brother and sister had their blood tested, but were found not qualified. Several friends submitted mouth swabs to the National Bone Marrow registry, but did not match, as well as none others in the registry.

Each of my three sons, Bill, Seth, and Evan, willingly and gladly volunteered to have their blood tested. The youngest, Evan, was chosen to be an acceptable donor for me.

Last Wednesday Evan had more blood drawn for further testing. He also donated two pints of blood that will be banked for him. On May 5 he will be put under general anesthesia. Some of his bone marrow will be withdrawn from his hip and will be transfused to me. Then Evan will receive back his two pints of blood that were banked.

Silver and gold and all the money in the world can not give me back my health. My physical life will be redeemed by Evan’s blood, as his stem cells graft into my bone marrow in the weeks following transplant. No longer will my blood type be what it is now. My body will adopt the blood type of Evan.

The power of blood to give life was declared in the Bible a few thousand years ago. “For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar to make atonement for your souls; for it is the blood by reason of the life that makes atonement" (Leviticus 17:11).

At times Judaism and Christianity have seemed like bloody faiths to me. The writer of Hebrews in the New Testament declared, "without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness." In my own situation of needing blood, it makes more sense to me now.

The Apostle Peter wrote,”knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ” (1Peter 1:18, 19). The writer of Revelation adds, Jesus Christ “loves us and released us from our sins by His blood” (Revelation 1:5).

By having my physical life redeemed with a bone marrow transplant, I understand more clearly how Christ has redeemed my spiritual life. The significance of this Easter season has a fresh meaning for me.

The passage in Genesis with father Abraham and son Isaac from which we get the phrase “Jehovah-Jireh” has new meaning has well. God has provided my own son in the flesh to give me new life. Wow! Thank you for your sacrifice, Evan!

This weekend Evan is outside of Vancouver, skiing on Whistler Mountain, site of the 2010 Winter Olympics. Pray with me that he gets home safe! I need that guy!!!

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT?

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 21:11:00 +0000

I enjoyed watching the last round of the Masters Golf Tournament last Sunday afternoon. With eight players jostling for the lead over the last nine holes, it made for an exciting finish. Charl Swartzel, the winner, told how he focused for a few weeks of special practice before the tournament.

I am reminded of the old saying, “practice makes perfect.” Some years ago I heard someone correct the fallacy of that statement. The commenter stated, “only right practice makes perfect.” If you keep practicing the same mistakes you will get the same result.

In the movie, “Stroke of Genius,” Bobby Jones’ caddy at the St. Andrews golf course watched Bobby make the same error repeatedly as he tried to get out of a sand trap. The caddy offered a definition of insanity: “doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.”

People can fall into the same trap in regard to their spirituality. I call them “Avis” Christians in remembrance of that car rental company’s old slogan, “we try harder.” The Bible informs us that no matter how hard we try, we can never win God’s approval by our efforts. “`Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,' says the LORD of hosts.” (Zechariah 4:6)

For that reason I believe religion is one of the greatest foes to true spirituality. Somehow people think that if they are “religious” it will win points with God. Donald Trump’s responses in an interview this week reflect that attitude. In reply to a question concerning his views about God, the Donald replied:

“I'm a Protestant, I'm a Presbyterian. And you know I've had a good relationship with the church over the years. I think religion is a wonderful thing. I think my religion is a wonderful religion … I go to church as much as I can. Always on Christmas. Always on Easter. Always when there's a major occasion. And during the Sundays, I'm a Sunday church person. I'll go when I can.”

Am I against religion, you might ask. I draw a great distinction between religion and Christianity. Religion is the efforts of humans to reach God. Christianity is a relationship offered by God by reaching to humanity through Jesus Christ.

The video and graphics in the right column illustrate the point that I am trying to make that it is God’s reach, not the efforts of humans, that will bring us to perfection.

The 5th Quarter

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 17:51:00 +0000

"The Fifth Quarter" movie premiered last week and was released in Atlanta theaters this week. I look forward to seeing this movie today. It features the true story of a local Cobb County family. I am thankful the impact of this story had on my alma mater Wake Forest, and their great football season in 2006 that led to the ACC championship and Orange Bowl appearance. Most of all, I am thankful for the Abbate family sharing their story of tragedy and grief that is being used to bless people in such a powerful way.

Click here to go to the movie website.

HEAVEN'S RAIN

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 04:03:00 +0000

Two and a half months ago I received an email telling me about the movie, “Heaven’s Rain,” that was being released. I knew the theme was forgiveness after a horrific family tragedy. For some reason I kept putting off opening the links that would tell me more about the story. The fact that the story involved former missionaries to Brazil piqued my interest, since I myself served as a missionary in Brazil for a few years.

Finally, tonight I spent a couple of hours looking at all the video and story links on the movie website. To see a number of television interviews, speeches by Brooks Douglass, and the movie trailer, click on the media page of “Heaven’s Rain” website. It's a powerful story that honors God.

Below is the ABP news release about the story.

NEW YORK (ABP) -- A former Oklahoma state senator turned Hollywood filmmaker who plays his father in a new movie said a scene re-enacting his parents' murder 31 years ago was harder than he expected but worth it.

Even though he co-wrote the screenplay, "Heaven's Rain" Producer Brooks Douglass said it wasn't until after discussion about him playing the part had already begun that it dawned on him it would include reliving the horror of the night that altered the course of his life.

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done," Douglass said Jan. 7 in a "Today Show" interview promoting an episode that evening telling the story in more detail on "Dateline NBC."

Douglass and his sister, Leslie, were both seriously wounded in home-invasion shootings Oct. 15, 1979, that killed their parents. Richard Douglass and his wife, Marilyn, were Southern Baptist missionaries to Brazil but at the time were living in Oklahoma where he was pastor of a prominent Baptist church.

As the four family members lay bound and bleeding on the floor of their home, Douglass, then 16, watched his mother die. He told his father, "Mom's dead," and Richard Douglass never spoke. Brooks and his 12-year-old sister managed to untie each other and he drove them to get medical help.

"Most things in life that we dread are never quite as bad as we think they are going to be, and that was one thing I've done that was much worse," Douglass told NBC's Meredith Viera about making the scene. "It was much harder than I thought."

Douglass said people have approached him in the past about turning the tragedy into a movie, but they always wanted to tell it as a crime story. After leaving politics he decided to do it himself, he said, because he wanted it to be a story about family, a tribute to his parents and, ultimately, about forgiveness.

Douglass described the power of forgiveness on his own life.

As a state senator, he pulled strings to arrange a meeting with triggerman Glen Ake, at the Oklahoma prison where Ake is serving a life sentence for the murders.

"It did not go at all the way I expected it to," he said.

Douglass said lessons from his parents and his faith taught him one way to handle such a situation, but he went in planning the opposite. He remembered telling Ake, "For 15 years I've wanted nothing more than to see you dead."

By the time the hour-and-a-half conversation ended, however, "I wound up forgiving him," Douglass said, "and it changed my life."

"It wasn't until I got in that meeting that I realized how angry I had been and how much I carried all that around with me and how it was destroying my own life," he said. "Even though on the outside everything looked great, behind the scenes nothing was right."

Douglass said that is one reason he decided to make the film.

"To me a lot of the story is how those things tear your life apart, and you think that you're doing well, the world thinks you're doing well, but you know you're not," he said. "It's not until we deal with those things that we can really begin to move on."

Despite the difficulty of reliving parts of the story, Douglass said overall making the film was "a really positive experience."

"It is a movie that I think is very uplifting to people and I think will show them how good we can be," he said.

Even after all the years, Douglass said a day rarely passes that he doesn't think about his parents. "Especially now that we're working on the movie that's how it is, but I'm not sure there has ever been a day that something didn't remind me -- even if it's thinking about what my mom or my dad would have told me to do or what their advice would be."

That is particularly true at holidays. "I was 16 when it happened, and still every holiday seems hollow without them," he said.

CHARLIE SHEEN & THE SORROW OF SINKING

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 17:10:00 +0000

Charlie Sheen is sinking ... fast. Some might say that Charlie has been sinking, or already been sunk, for a long time. I expect all of us know someone who is sinking or has sunk.

Especially memorable and sorrowful are people who in the past won our respect or admiration. It may be a teacher, preacher, athlete, business person, or even a family member. It is well possible that someone who is reading this article right now is sinking, and perhaps nobody even knows it. The truth is, it could happen to any of us. "But by the grace of God, go I."

This morning I read a devotional sermon by George H. Morrison entitled, "Beginning to Sink." It is based on events in the life of the Apostle Peter. The text is from Matthew 14:30, "Beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me." I have edited and condensed the sermon and written it below.

The Pathos of a Wasted Life

Men who are sunken--women who are sunken--are the heartbreak of the home and of the city. There is such infinite pathetic waste in a wasted, miserable life. But to the seeing eye and the perceiving heart, there is another spectacle which is not less tragic--it is that of the person who is beginning to sink.

Our Best Qualities May Be Our Ruin

Our perils do not always reach us through our worst. Our perils sometimes reach us through our best: through what is charming in us, delightful, and enthusiastic. That is why every person needs to be saved not only from their sin but from themself. That is why God, in His holy love to save us, gave us not a message but a Man. For our brightest social qualities may wreck us. A touch of genius may be our ruin. For all that is implied in that word temperament, we need the keeping of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Sinking amid Familiar Surroundings

It is a very sad and pitiable thing when a person begins to sink away from home, when they go away into a distant land and forgets the God of their father and their mother. But the peril for each one of us is the peril of Peter on the lake of Galilee--that we begin to sink amid familiar waters. Beginning to sink in India is sad; beginning to sink at home is almost worse; forgetting the sanctuary and the bended knee, the purity and temperance and tenderness. And if there is anyone who is beginning to sink at home, amid those who love and pray, now is the time to cry as Peter cried, "Lord, save me, or I perish."

Sinking after Loyal Discipleship

And the sad thing is that in every community there are men and women who begin to sink, not in their raw and inexperienced youth, but after years of discipleship and service. Sometimes it is the deceitfulness of riches which causes it. Sometimes it is growing absorption in business. Sometimes it is the constant subtle influence of one who is unspiritual in the home. Sometimes it is weariness in well doing and the dropping of the life to lower levels from secret clingings that no one knows but God. No one would say such lives were sunken lives. I am not speaking of moral wrecks and tragedies. I am speaking of people who are still of good repute, still kind at home, still diligent in business. And yet one feels they have begun to sink; they are not the person we remember in the morning; there is a different accent in their speech and a different atmosphere around their character. People need to be awakened out of their security, as Peter was wakened on the sea of Galilee, to recall their past discipleship and to compare it with what they are now, and then to cry, as Simon Peter cried, "Lord, save me, or I perish."

Sinking While Obeying Christ

And so do I learn that on permitted paths--on ways that are sanctioned by the voice of heaven--it is possible now, as on the lake of Galilee, for men and women to begin to sink. There are ways that are forbidden to every child of man. God writes His flaming "No Thoroughfare" upon them. And just for the reason that this is a righteous universe, the person who sets foot on them begins to sink immediately. But the strange thing is that even when God says "Come," and opens up the way that we may walk in it, even there it is always possible to sink. That is true of the blessedness of home. It is true of all social and Christian service. And a person may preach the everlasting Gospel, yet run the risk of being cast away. And therefore amid all our privileges and all the gifts which God has blessed us with, "Lord, save us, or we perish."

Sinking When Begin to Fear

In the perilous calling of the spiritual life, to lose heart is to lose everything. And that is why the Lord is always saying to us, "My child, give me your heart," for only in His keeping is it safe. It is a simple message--looking unto Jesus, and yet it is the message of salvation. To trust in Him and to keep the eye on Him is the one secret of all Christian victory. And when we have failed to do so in the stress of life, as all of us, like Simon Peter, fail, then there is nothing left but to cry with Peter, "Lord, save me, or I perish."

Sinking Unobserved

There are some people just like Simon Peter. They have not sunk yet, they are not degraded; they are just beginning to sink. Yet no one at home knows anything about it; no one suspects it or has ever dreamed of it; no one would believe it for a moment. When a person has sunk, then there is no disguising. The story is written that the person who runs may read. There is nothing hidden but it shall be revealed, whether of things in heaven or things in hell. But when a person is just beginning to sink it may be utterly different from that; it may be a secret between themself and God. Their nearest and dearest may not dream of it; their mother and father may be in total ignorance. And the person may come to church and engage in Christian service and take their place at the communion table. And we say of them, How well they are getting on--what a fine young person they are turning out to be. And all the time, unheard and unobserved, the person is crying, "Lord, save me, or I perish." It ought to make us very tenderhearted. It ought to make us always very prayerful. There are things happening among us which we never suspect, of which we never dream.

Christ Is Never Far Away

My friend, just beginning to sink, will you remember that Christ is at your side? All human help may seem very far away; remember that He is not very far away. He is near you now; near you where you sit. You need Him sorely and He is there for you. Cry out now, "Lord, save me, or I perish," and He will do it to the uttermost for you.

To read the original unedited sermon of George Morrison, click here.

CAN ANYBODY RELATE TO THESE CARTOONS?

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 17:38:00 +0000

SEVEN SPECIFIC PRAYERS

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 16:24:00 +0000

This week the International Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention elected Tom Elliff to be the president to lead their organization. The IMB has over 5,000 missionaries working around the world. I was in the same missionary orientation group with Tom in 1981.

Tom Elliff asked people to pray for him and his wife Jeannie in seven specific ways. I think his request is one we all could adopt for our lives.

1) we will have a constant awareness that we are ambassadors for Christ;

2) we will live before God with pure hearts;

3) we will experience the fullness of the Holy Spirit;

4) we will display the gifts and graces of the Spirit;

5) never would we unwittingly place in the hands of the adversary something that he might use to mock our Savior;

6) God will protect our family physically, morally and spiritually;

7) God will keep us faithful to the vision.

What is the vision for your life?

UP & DOWN

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Sat, 12 Mar 2011 15:26:00 +0000

I’ve had some “ups and downs” in the last week. After two days of chemotherapy last Thursday and Friday, I spent three days mostly in bed feeling pretty weak. I had forgotten how puny and miserable I can feel with the effects of chemo.

The plus side of the down time is that it forces and motivates me to spend time to reflect and meditate on my life. I find that I regularly need to practice circumcision of soul, that is, cutting away or removing things in my life that are unnecessary and a distraction to accomplishing my purposes and objectives.

Some lines from a song called “When the Time Comes,” written by David Kavich and sung by Sandi Patty, come to my mind at such times.
Share When The Time Comes by Sandi Patty
                      Cleanse me Lord
                      Of all my silly, sad charades
                      How I want to be all and only Yours
                      Take away the clutter in my life everyday
                      And make me like a child at play

I recall driving down dusty dirt roads in Brazil many times almost thirty years ago listening to that song on my cassette player. A few years ago I decided it is the song I want sung at the beginning of my memorial service. I hope that service is many years in the future!

By Tuesday I was feeling much stronger and ready to venture out in the world again. Cissy and I drove to Amelia Island where we are enjoying the bright sunshine and brisk breezes on the coast. I delight in feeling good enough to take some good walks on the beach.

My son Evan flew down from Atlanta to spend Thursday with us. As we were driving from the airport in Jacksonville, the case manager for my stem cell transplant called. The plan is for me to have some tests done the first week in April, and then the next week tests for Evan, since he will be my donor. The goal is to have the transplant the end of April or the first of May.

The “down” time from chemo last week is only a snapshot of how I will feel for many weeks after the transplant. I will take each day one at a time. For now, the sun is shining and I am good! It's time to go out on the beach.

WONDER & BLOOM OF THE WORLD

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 16:40:00 +0000

In my profile I state that one of my interests is the wonder of nature. I also add that I am a follower of Christ. Today I read a devotional by George Morrison that deals with Jesus and the message of nature. It is copied below for your reading and reflection.

Consider the lilies of the field--Mat 6:28

Jesus Keenly Alive to the Message of Nature

During the glorious days of June, when the world is so full of light and joy, it is an unspeakable satisfaction to remember that our Lord was keenly alive to the message of nature. It is part of the undying charm of the Gospel story that while it sounds all the deeps of the human spirit, it never forgets that we are living in a world where the grass is green and where the birds are singing. There are poets whose gift is that of interpreting nature. There are others whose genius works at its noblest in interpreting the strange story of mankind. But the sublimest masters are endowed with both these gifts--they interpret nature and they interpret man. Now Jesus Christ was far more than a poet; He was inspired as no poet ever was. Yet the twofold gift of interpreting nature and man, the gift that is the glory of our masterpieces, shines out most cloudlessly upon the Gospel page. It is there we read of the Samaritan woman. It is there we read of the denial of Peter. But the mustard-seed and the birds and the lilies are there too.

Love of Nature Was a Hebrew Tradition

Now no doubt this love of nature which was so strong in Jesus sprang partly from the circumstances of His birth. He was a Hebrew with a Hebrew lineage, after the flesh, and nature was eloquent with voices to the Hebrew. You can often tell what a people gives its heart to by the richness and copiousness of its vocabulary. Where a nation's interests have been long and deeply engaged, there it soon wins for itself a wealth of terms. Well, in the Hebrew language there are some ten words for rain, and to the understanding heart that is significant. Into that heritage, then, Jesus of Nazareth entered. He was the child of a race that had lived with open eyes. And if the glory of the world lights up the Gospel story--if there are sermons in stones, and books in running brooks, there, we owe it in some measure to God's ordering, when He cradles Emmanuel in a Hebrew home.

From Fear of Nature to Love of It

But between the Hebrew outlook on nature in the Old Testament, and the outlook of Jesus as we find it in the Gospels, there is one marked difference that we cannot note too closely. There is one contrast which no one can fail to remark, who reads the prophets and the Psalms and then turns to the Gospels. In the Psalms the world is magnificent and terrible. It is a mighty pageant of grand and mysterious forces. We see the sun there rejoicing like a strong man to run his race; we hear the rush of the storm as it shatters the cedars of Lebanon. The sea is angry, its waves mount up to heaven. There is the roll of thunder; there is the flash of lightning. You feel that clouds and darkness are never far away. It is a vast and glorious world--hardly a kindly one. Now turn to the Gospels, and do you note the change? Consider the lilies of the field, the fowls of the air. Behold the sower goes forth to sow in the spring morning. The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard-seed. It is not that vast and magnificent things are disregarded, and the beauty of the small things recognized. That is not what gives us the sense of contrast between the nature of the psalmist and of Jesus. It is rather that the world is a much kindlier place; there is less menace in its terrific powers. It is still as full of mystery as ever; but it is the mystery of love now, not of fear.

Now can we explain that deep and striking change? It is quite clear that nature will not explain it. Had Jesus lived under a sunnier sky or amid fairer pastures than the old Hebrew psalmists, we might think that the change was due to change of scene. But the same stars looked down on Jesus of Nazareth as touched into music the craving heart of David; and the same wild storms leapt out of the blue heaven as have given the fire and rush to Hebrew melody. And the hills and the streams and the gleaming of the sea far off, these were the same. It is clear, then, that there is no explanation there.

Nature Was Not Kinder to Jesus

Nor is there any--I speak with loving reverence of One to whom I owe so much--nor is there any explanation in the change of persons. I mean that had the lot of Jesus been a kindly lot, I could have fathomed His kindly view of nature. Has not Tennyson sung very wisely and very well--

Gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould?

And had the life of Jesus been a life of ease and tenderness, I think I could explain His view of nature. But did He not come unto His own and they received Him not? Was He not despised and rejected of men? Were there no drops of sweat like blood in lone Gethsemane? Was there no cup to drink, no cross to bear and die on?' I do not think that bitter sorrows like these make a man ready to consider the lilies. In my own tragedies the world grows tragic. I understand the storm when I am storm-tossed. But to Jesus, misunderstood, cross-burdened, Man of Sorrows, nature was genial, kindly, homelike, to the end.

Man's Attitude toward Nature Changes as a Result of Inward Change--God Not a Mere Creator but a Father

Here is the explanation of that contrast. It is not change of scene, nor change of circumstance. It is the changed thought of God that is the secret. To prophet and psalmist, no less than to Jesus, the world was alive and quivering with God. But to prophet and psalmist God was Jehovah; to Jesus of Nazareth God was Father. Twelve times over in this sixth chapter of Matthew Christ speaks of the Creator as "your Father." I have read of the child of a distinguished English judge who was rebuked for prattling beside the judge's knee. And the child answered: "Why should I not? He may be your judge, but he's my father." So when the thought of the Creator, infinite in majesty, was deepened and softened and glorified in Fatherhood, the mystery of fear was swept out of the world, and the gentle mystery of love came in. It was a Father who had reared the mountains. There was a Father's hand upon the storm. At the back of the thunder, no less than in the lilies, there was a Father's heart, a Father's love. It was that glorious truth filling the heart of Jesus that made all nature what it was for Him. Perfect love had cast out fear.

In the city of Florence there is an old building now used as a museum. Six hundred years ago it was a palace, and on the altar wall of its chapel, sometime about 1390, Giotto painted a portrait of the poet Dante. This portrait, the only one painted during the poet's lifetime, is of inestimable value. But the building fell upon evil days; it was turned into a jail for common criminals; its walls were coated with whitewash. And for centuries under this covering the face of Dante was hidden, until its existence was well-nigh forgotten. But in 1840 three gentlemen, one of them an Englishman, set to work and discovered the lost likeness. And now the old prison wall is full of glory because the lineaments of the great poet shine out there. Ah, yes, if a common wall is quite transfigured when the likeness of Dante is discovered on it, no wonder that a common flower is glorified when it reveals--as it did to Christ--the Father. It is a great thing to be alive to beauty; but men were alive to beauty before Jesus lived. It is a great thing to feel the mystery of nature; but men had felt all that in paganism. What Jesus did was to take the truth of Fatherhood, and touch every bird and every lily with it, till beauty deepened into brotherhood, and we and the world were mystically kin. "When I consider the heavens," said the psalmist, "what is man, that thou art mindful of him?" But Jesus, just to reassure us of God's mindfulness, says, "Consider the lilies of the field."

Jesus Used Nature in the Interest of Morals

Such, then, was the secret of nature for our Lord. And now I have a word to say upon one other point. I want you to observe how constantly and simply our Lord used nature in the interests of morals. Our outlook on nature is very largely emotional. We make it a mirror to reflect our moods. If we are happy, then all the world is happy. But if we are sad, then even "the banks and braes O' bonny doon 'mind me O' departed joys, departed--never to return." Now all that is very natural, I doubt not; and it is a witness to the grandeur of our human story that we make every stream and every sunset echo it. But in the life of Jesus there is little of that; it is the moral helpfulness of nature that He seizes. Burns wondered how the flowers could bloom when he was so weary. That is the emotional outlook on the world. Tennyson said: "Flower in the crannied wall, could I but understand thee, I should know what God and man is." That is the intellectual outlook on the world. But Jesus said: "Why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field," and that is neither emotional nor intellectual; it is moral. I do not mean that Jesus was blind to the other aspects; but I do mean that He centered His thought on that. For the soul and the life and the individual character--these things were so transcendently important to Christ Jesus, that everything else must be impressed into their service. In the glorious days of June we are apt to grow a little dull to what is highest. Just to be alive is such a sweet thing at such a time, that the hope and the resolve of sterner moods take to themselves wings and fly away. Do not forget the earnestness of Christ. Do not forget that out in the summer fields this was His aim--to fashion noble, trustful, reverent disciples. We must have room for the lilies of the field no less than for Gethsemane; we must remember the birds not less than the bread and wine, if the whole ministry of Christ is to be operative in winning us to some likeness of Himself.

To the Very End Nature Appealed to Jesus

It is notable, too, that as Jesus' life advanced, and as the shadows upon His path grew darker, we find no trace that Jesus outgrew nature, or passed beyond the power of its reaching. I think most of us have had hours when nature seemed to desert us. She became dumb and had no healing for us. It may have been the hour of a great sorrow, or a great crisis in our life's career. And I think that most of us have had moods and feelings which we thought that nature was powerless to interpret. She could not enter into our weary problems. So as our life goes on we drift away from nature, and nature silently drifts away from us. But what I want you to note is that though that happens with us, there is no trace that it ever happened with Jesus. Here on the hillside He is speaking of providence, and He says, "Consider the lilies of the field." Then follows the preaching of the kingdom throughout Galilee, and "the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard-seed." Then the shadow of Calvary falls, and the awful death that is coming--can nature interpret and illuminate that darkness? "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone." And where did Christ agonize? Was it in the upper room? He went into a place where there was a garden. And in the exultant joy of resurrection morning, did He hasten away into the city? He waited till Mary supposed He was the gardener. Right on, then, through the wealth of all His teaching, right on through His suffering and death and rising, the voices of the natural world appealed to Jesus. Nature may seem to fail us before the end, but it never deserted Jesus Christ.

In Perfect Touch with His Father's World

And the reason is not very far to seek. "I come...to do thy will, O God" (Heb 10:7). It was the childlike heart, absolutely true, never swerving by a hairbreadth from the line of duty; it was His perfect obedience to a Father's will that kept Jesus in perfect touch with His Father's world. Do you remember how Wadsworth, speaking of the man who does his duty, says:

Flowers laugh before thee in their beds
And fragrance in thy footing treads?

He means that nature ceases to be musical when we are anywhere else than on the path of duty. Here, then, is the secret of a happy summer, in which all the world and you shall be in comradeship. It is to be patient, brave, unselfish, kind, and loyal. It is to accept the cross. It is to be true. To see the beautiful, you must be dutiful. It is a most strange world. "Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God"--even in the lilies of the field.

GOOD MOVIES

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 07:02:00 +0000

I am hooked on Netflix. Last summer one son gave me a three month gift subscription while I was undergoing chemotherapy. Then when I got home from the hospital another son gave me a Playstation. Now I stream Netflix movies through the Playstation on my big screen TV.

It is so easy and quick to watch great movies with this modern technology. Generally I watch a few movies each week, if not one every night. Below are trailers for my favorite three from the last week.

The Kite Runner

Charlotte Gray

Secretariat

BE NICE!

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 04:24:00 +0000

Ludlow Porch passed away last week. Ludlow was a well-known radio host in the South. One of the ways he delighted his audiences was by concocting wild stories that were so ridiculously funny, but seemed "almost" believable.

He was a master story teller and humorist who harkened back to good old country living. He was the author of humor books such as "Who Cares about Apathy" and “We’re All in This Alone.” Ludlow’s stepbrother, Lewis Grizzard, could also spin a funny yarn.

Ludlow always ended his show with his famous line: “Whatever else you do today, you find somebody to be nice to!” I had the opportunity to be around Ludlow when I was a chaplain at Big Canoe Chapel, and he and his wife were members. Ludlow was always friendly and genial. Though the story below is no prank or silly fiction, I think Ludlow would like the “be nice” theme.

There was an unusual high school football game played in Grapevine, Texas. The game was between Grapevine Faith Academy and the Gainesville State School. Faith is a Christian school and Gainesville State School is located within a maximum security correction facility.

Gainesville State School has 14 players. They play every game on the road. Their record was 0-8. They've only scored twice. Their 14 players are teenagers who have been convicted of crimes ranging from drugs to assault to robbery. Most had families who had disowned them. They wore outdated, used shoulder pads and helmets. Faith Academy was 7-2. They had 70 players, 11 coaches, and the latest equipment.

Chris Hogan, the head coach at Faith Academy, knew the Gainesville team would have no fans and it would be no contest, so he thought, "What if half of our fans and half of our cheerleaders, for one night only, cheered for the other team?"

He sent out an email to the faithful asking them to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send," Hogan wrote. "You're just as valuable as any other person on the planet."

Some folks were confused and thought he was nuts. One player said, "Coach, why are we doing this?" Hogan said, "Imagine you don't have a home life, no one to love you, no one pulling for you. Imagine that everyone pretty much had given up on you. Now, imagine what it would feel like and mean to you for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you."

The idea took root. On the night of the game, imagine the surprise of those 14 players when they took the field and there was a banner the cheerleaders had made for them to crash through. The visitors' stands were full. The cheerleaders were leading cheers for them. The fans were calling them by their names.

Isaiah, the quarterback-middle linebacker said, "I never in my life thought I would hear parents cheering to tackle and hit their kid. Most of the time, when we come out, people are afraid of us. You can see it in their eyes, but these people are yelling for us. They knew our names."

Faith won the game, and after the game the teams gathered at the 50-yard line to pray. That's when Isaiah, the teenage convict-quarterback surprised everybody and asked if he could pray. He prayed, "Lord, I don't know what just happened so I don't know how or who to say thank you to, but I never knew there were so many people in the world who cared about us."

On the way back to the bus, under guard, each one of the players was handed a burger, fries, a coke, candy, a Bible, and an encouraging letter from the players from Faith Academy.

What an incredible act of Christian witness and kindness and goodness that was. Proverbs 11:17 says, "Your own soul is nourished when you are kind." Proverbs 3:27 says, "Do not withhold good when it is in your power to act."

CALF PATH

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 21:40:00 +0000

I have gone down a lot of roads in my life journey. Long ago as a senior in college I found the narrow road with a small gate that Jesus says leads to life.

Along the way there have been byways, highways, expressways, and more than a few detours. I have stood at many intersections and pondered which road to take. Sometimes I have felt like the traveler in Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken.”

On the road I like the lyrics George Strait sings in “The Road Less Traveled.” The song talks about going against the grain … having no fears … daring to dream … marching to the beat of a different drummer …that it might all come together …living life to one day leave a mark.

Currently, I am on the “road to recovery” as I await a stem cell transplant to get a cure from lymphoma. As Willie Nelson sings it, I can’t wait to get "On the Road Again.”

The majority of my time "on the road" has been serving God through the body of Christ, the church. My greatest satisfaction and fulfillment has come through leading small groups. I led action groups for college and high school students in the early 1970’s with Campus Crusade for Christ, discipleship groups in local church youth ministry in the late 70’s, DISCIPLE Bible Study in the 90’s, and various adult Bible studies in more recent years.

I think the remainder of my years on the pathway will be spent to help organize and lead small groups that seek for people to honor and please God, to experience the presence of the in-dwelling Christ, and to be empowered by the Holy Spirit to serve. Another way I have tried to describe my mission is to:

                          Know the love of God,
                          Grow in the grace of Christ,
                          Show the power of the Holy Spirit.

I plan to spend the coming days, weeks, and months during my stem cell transplant process and recovery to seek God’s direction about how I can be involved in small group ministry with authentic biblical community. I am studying all types of formats and venues such as house churches, cell groups, churches with groups, etc. I hope to be ready to “launch out” this Fall. I will stay active in my current church fellowship unless I am clearly led by God to do otherwise.

One of the greatest roadblocks along this road is “tradition.” It has been said that the seven last words of the church will be, “We never did it that way before.” The storyteller in “Fiddler on the Roof” reminds me, though, that there are positives with tradition. He decries that tradition gives balance, identity, and clarity of expectations. He sums it up, “without traditions our life would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof.”

Poet Sam Walter Foss wrote over one hundred years ago the tendency of people to follow the path that everyone else has taken for centuries. It could be called the “herd mentality” to stay on the rutted road of the old and familiar.

The Calf Path(click the arrow at bottom of each slide to continue)

I have come to the point in my pilgrimage that I do not want simply to follow in the hoof prints. The coming months of exploration will be exciting, even if it involves also the process of going through a bone marrow (stem cell) transplant.

HITCHHIKING TO A BLIZZARD

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 07:14:00 +0000

This week a great snow storm is covering the lives of 100 million Americans. Forecasters predicted it would rival the Great Chicago Blizzard of January 26, 1967. I remember well the blizzard of ’67. My friend, Jim Sheffer, and I hitchhiked over 700 miles to arrive in Chicago the afternoon before the blizzard dumped 23 inches of snow in 24 hours.

Jim and I were students at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC. In those days we did not have exams for the fall semester until the end of January. Jim came up with the bright idea for us to travel over semester break to his parent’s home in Hinsdale, a suburb of Chicago.

I protested that Chicago would be too cold in the winter. Jim assured me that it really was not so cold in Chicago, and that the weather would be fine. Weather was a big issue since our checkbooks dictated that our mode of travel would be hitchhiking.

I was accustomed to hitchhiking. In the 1960’s it was common to see college students standing along the road with their thumbs stuck out, and at their feet a suitcase affixed with a college decal. It was the way I travelled often the 75 miles to get home.

On Tuesday afternoon, January 24, I waited until almost 5 p.m. for Jim to finish his last exam. Upon his arrival we put on our travel clothes. Jim had “borrowed” from the athletic department some sweat suits with “Property of Wake Forest Athletic Department” stamped in big letters across the chest. We wanted to get across the point to motorists that we were needy college students. Underneath we put on several layers of clothes to keep us warm.

A friend gave us a ride to Highway 52 North just outside town. It was about 5:30 p.m. We held up our sign with bold letters that said “CHICAGO.” Traffic zoomed past us. It seemed like forever without anyone paying us any attention. Darkness was falling and the temperature felt a little cooler.

We kidded each other about how crazy we were to think anyone would stop in the dark to pick up a couple of skinny dudes that were almost 6’5” tall (which of us was tallest was an issue that Jim and I never resolved).

Then grace appeared! A driver of a tractor trailer stopped his rig and invited us to climb aboard. Jim jumped in the passenger seat, and I climbed over in the back where there was a mattress for the driver’s overnights and naps. We rode with him all through the West Virginia turnpike. He told us about his experiences on the road, and we related stories about college life. I remember getting so hungry that I ate an apple, core and all.

I don’t really remember all the details of our other rides. I do remember that we arrived on the outskirts of Cincinnati early in the morning. We did a lot of walking, seeming as if we walked across the whole city. We stopped in a bar that was open at that early hour and had a good breakfast. Later in the day I faintly recall going through Lafayette, Indiana, the home of Purdue University.

We arrived in Hinsdale, Illinois late on Wednesday afternoon. Our trek took us about 23 hours. It was sunny and moderately warm. Later I learned it had been 65 degrees the previous day.

Jim’s parents and sister Joanie welcomed us gladly. We watched the local news on TV that evening. The weatherman forecast four inches of snow for the next day. Sure enough, when we awoke late the next morning it was snowing. It snowed all day and into Friday morning until the snow measured 23 inches deep.

I was furious! Jim had tricked me. I was mad that I was so foolish and gullible to believe that it would not be bad weather in Chicago. Jim declared that even this much snow was unusual. I did not believe him until newscasters confirmed this was the largest single snowfall in the city's history.

Thousands were stranded in offices, in schools, and in buses. About 50,000 abandoned cars and 800 city buses littered the streets and expressways.The Blizzard of '67 proved the wisdom behind the Chicago saying "If you don't like the weather, just wait a minute."

A few days later after the streets were somewhat cleared, I finally got to ride in a car to see downtown Chicago. There was not much else to do since activity was still greatly limited by the huge snowfall.

Jim and I had not really given much thought before our trip how we would return to college. We knew for sure due to the weather we would not be hitchhiking! It was now Monday and we were due back to register for the next semester. We needed to get back quick. Thankfully, the airport opened for flights on Monday. Soon we were able to get a flight reservation after we scraped together enough funds.

I have never been back to the Windy City since the Blizzard of ’67. I guess Marvin Gaye's "Hitchhike" song that opened with the line "I'm going to Chicago" and ended with snow falling was prophetic! :-)

AMBASSADOR

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 22:09:00 +0000

In some ways, my life has been "on hold" for the last year due to the disease of lymphoma. After rounds of chemotherapy and stays in four hospitals, I am looking forward to having a bone marrow (stem cell) transplant. Yet even after a donor is found, it will be about six weeks before a transplant. Then there will be at least a 100 days of close followup. Nevertheless, I feel like I have a new lease on life now. I want to be about my Father's business.

I had some new business cards printed this week. I could have printed a card that said, "No job. No title. No office. No income. No responsibility." But that card would not be true to my calling and responsibility.

I am an ambassador. I am appointed to represent a higher power. I do not speak on my own initiative. I do not pronounce or promote my own personal program. I speak as I am authorized, according to the wishes of my sovereign. As far as possible, I do only what my sovereign would do were he himself present.

I represent Christ and the kingdom of God. I am vested with authority and power, but not to use it according to my desires. My mission is to make known and to explain the terms on which God is willing to be reconciled to people. I do not have liberty to negotiate any new terms, nor to change those which God has proposed.

I do not promote my own welfare, nor do I seek honor or dignity. I go to transact the business which the Son of God would engage in were he again personally on the earth. My office is one of great responsibility as ambassador of the King of kings.

Charles Wesley expressed it well poetically:

"God, the offended God most high,
Ambassadors to rebels sends;
His messengers his place supply,
And Jesus begs us to be friends.
Us, in the stead of Christ, they pray,
Us, in the stead of Christ, entreat,
To cast our arms, our sins, away,
And find forgiveness at his feet.
Our God, in Christ, thine embassy
And proffer'd mercy we embrace;
And, gladly reconciled to thee,
Thy condescending mercy praise.
Poor debtors, by our Lord's request
A full acquittance we receive;
And criminals, with pardon blest,
We, at our Judge's instance, live."

SNOW DAY

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 22:22:00 +0000

The weather forecast came true! This morning we awoke to a winter wonderland. After watching the birds gather at the feeder I took a stroll around our property and took some photos. Snow is so peaceful and relaxing!

Phill & Evan's Most Excellent Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 09:14:00 +0000

I have blogged on this site very little in the last six months. Instead I have posted on my CaringBridge website. The blog below was originally posted on that site a few days ago on December 30, 2010.

At the moment I am sitting in a recliner at the Kennestone Cancer Center receiving chemotherapy. This is the last of four weekly infusions of Rituxin. I like a one drug out-patient infusion much better than week-long hospital stays with a spectrum of drugs! I have been in the hospital for seven weeks in the last seven months.

Most recently, I was admitted to two hospitals in Italy and New York for almost eight days over the last two weeks. Let me try to update what happened. This entry will be more like a blog than just a medical report. If you want to be spared the following read, the short story is that I am alive and fairly well.

I wanted to take Cissy to Paris as part of her birthday celebration this month, but she did not feel strong enough to make an international trip. Instead we had a great trip to the Florida beach. Yet I still had the itch to make a big trip. If I have a bone marrow transplant I will not be able to travel for a long time. So, two weeks ago, on Thursday, December 16, my son Evan and I left for a planned four day trip to Switzerland.

I use the word "planned" loosely. Two days before the trip we were still trying to decide between going to Buenos Aires, Barcelona, or Switzerland. Flight schedules dictated that flying into Zurich was the best option to optimize our time.

Evan arranged for us to fly in business class. The reclining seats, sumptuous food, and "extras" made the flights very enjoyable. An occasion arose for me to tell a flight attendant a little of my story. She instantly responded that she would be praying for me. Before we de-planed she reminded me again that she would be praying for me. Her teary eyes and choked emotion told me she was very serious about her promise.

Evan and I took the train out of Zurich and stopped in Lucerne to walk around the city for a couple of hours, before resuming our journey to the winter wonderland of Wengen. We stayed in a lovely hotel in Wengen, the Jungfraublick, with staff that showed us great hospitality.

Ahmed works as a receptionist in the hotel. He grew up in Egypt, graduated from university, and has worked in Wengen for the last six years. When I told him my story, he told me I need to keep a good attitude and think positively. I agreed with him completely, and added that even more important to me than a positive attitude, is to receive the amazing grace of God. Again at check-out he encouraged me to stay positive.

On Friday and Saturday nights there was an ice show in a small outdoor rink with bleachers. The stars of the show were two great Swiss Olympic skaters (he an Olympic silver medalist and world champion; she a national champion for many years). The lights and music filled the packed arena with excitement and beauty. An almost full moon reflected off the snow of the towering mountains that surround the town. I thought to myself if this is the last Christmas season I experience on this earth, I will have a happy memory to cherish even in heaven.

On Saturday we awoke to an incredible view out our balcony window. We looked out over the village and up the valley that stretched toward the towering mountains of Eiger, Jungfrau and Monch. The clearing sky told us it would be a great day to ride to the "Top of Europe," the highest train station on the continent.

Jungfrau Mountain at 11,782 feet greeted us with minus 13 degrees and snow swirling in the 40 mph winds. Evan and I braved the elements to go out on the observation point for a few minutes. It was the coldest I have ever felt in my life.

Sunday afternoon we boarded the train for Milan, Italy, with plans to get on a plane to return home on Monday. We got off the train for several hours at stops in Swiss towns to see the local scenery. We arrived in Milan after dark and checked into a hotel near the airport.

During the night I got a fever and chills, followed in the morning by diarrhea and vomiting. One time I got out of the bed to go to the bathroom and evidently passed out and hit the floor with a thud. With great difficulty Evan dragged me to the bathroom. He checked with Cissy back home who called my doctor. Upon his recommendation Evan called an ambulance. I was taken to a hospital in Novara just outside Milan.

During the five hour wait in the ER my simple, repeated prayer was a soft plea for help. An exam by a doctor was followed by X-rays, blood culture, and ultrasound. The diagnosis was a kidney infection and an abscess at the site where I had a biopsy for lymphoma seven months ago. The culprit was a mean bacteria, staphylococcus aureus, better known as MRSA.

I received excellent care and attention from a team of doctors and nurses for five days. At times I was frustrated trying to communicate with those who did not speak English. The elderly man in the bed beside me had a loving family who cared for him. I wanted to tell the son and wife how much I admired their care, not only for the gentleman, but also how they helped me with small tasks.

Finally, I was discharged on Saturday morning, Christmas Day. Evan made thorough arrangements for our departure. Helpful staff at the hotel and Evan’s Droid Ssmartphone with internet access were invaluable. A taxi picked us up at the hospital door. The driver sped us (at times the speedometer hit 100 mph) in his fleet Mercedes.

There is a daily direct flight from Milan to Atlanta every day but Saturday. Since the flights were full in days past and for the future, we decided we had better take advantage of seats available on the flight to JFK Airport in New York on Saturday.

Upon arrival at JFK not only was no seat open to Atlanta, but we could find no seat available anywhere in the Southeast. As evening approached on Saturday, it looked like Evan and I would have to spend the night in the airport terminal.

However, the doctor in Italy had given me an antibiotic that was supposed to be administered by injection by midnight. Our inquiries found no one in the airport able to give the shot. When I inspected the abscessed area I decided I needed to see a doctor. The only option was to be transported to a hospital by ambulance.

I arrived at Jamaica Hospital Medical Center late Saturday night for another five hour ER wait to see a doctor. Once again I had X-rays, EKG, and blood culture. A surgeon drained the abscessed area. About 15 hours later so I was admitted to a private room where I received antibiotics via IV. On Sunday 16 inches of snow paralyzed the city and closed the airport. Evan spent Monday night at LaGuardia Airport and arranged two seats on a flight departing at 11:37 a.m. on Tuesday. If I missed the flight, it might be the weekend before I got another chance to get home.

I anxiously waited for a doctor to discharge me on Tuesday morning. Shortly before 10 a.m. I was finally released. Phone calls to three taxi services got no answer. I walked out to the street in front of the hospital and tried to hail a taxi, but all were carrying fares.

In desperation I stepped in the street and stopped a passing motorist and asked him to take me to the airport. We quickly negotiated a price. He was from India but had lived in the U.S. for twelve years. His speech had a terrible stutter. When we got to the airport we encountered a big traffic jam. Since we were near the terminal, I got out of the car and walked to meet up with Evan. At 11:15 we got someone to roll me in a wheelchair through security and arrived at the gate at 11:25.

Sitting on the plane I wondered what would go wrong next. Thankfully, the rest of the trip was smooth sailing. Haley and Seth picked me up at the airport. I arrived home on Tuesday about 4 p.m. (after a brief fueling stop in Atlanta at a gas station and the grease station across the street ...The Varsity for chili slaw dog, onion rings, and frosty orange).

On Wednesday Cissy took me to my local oncologist. Afterwards Cissy's remark is that there appears to be no permanent damage except maybe for Evan. After all the stress and responsibility for me he is exhausted.

Our four day trip turned into over twelve days of adventure. Now I am ready to celebrate Christmas for the next week, even if New Years comes along to interrupt!

Click on photos and videos from our trip. The train ride video at the end about our style of travel being flexible was prophetic about my emergency hospital visit the next day in Italy, and then the next unplanned hospital stop in New York. Later I realized I was in two hospitals on two continents, both on Christmas Day!

THANKSGIVING

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 03:39:00 +0000

Wednesday I flew to Houston early in the morning and returned late that afternoon from my doctor’s appointment at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. Son Evan made the plane reservations through his employer Delta Airlines. People were amazed I could make both flights on stand-by on the day of heavy holiday travel.

Son Seth and wife Haley, who had been near Nacogdoches at her parent’s ranch, picked me up at the Houston airport, accompanied me to the doctor’s appointment, and returned me to the airport.

Yesterday we celebrated a joyful Thanksgiving Day. My sister Lydia traveled from SC to be our “guest chef” for the day. She prepared an absolutely awesome meal for the 13 members of our family present.

Wow! A wonderful plan came together by God’s grace and the goodness of His children. Psalm 100 is so true!
“Shout joyfully to the LORD, all the earth. Serve the LORD with gladness; Come before Him with joyful singing. Know that the LORD Himself is God; It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves; We are His people and the sheep of His pasture. Enter His gates with thanksgiving And His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him, bless His name. For the LORD is good; His lovingkindness is everlasting And His faithfulness to all generations.”

My appointment with Dr. Romaguera in Houston produced a plan in coordination with Dr. Hermann, my local oncologist. It is based on the fact that I still have much lymphoma in my bone marrow after five rounds of chemotherapy. Since “Plan A” has not been successful, we will proceed with “Plan B.” For the next four weeks I will receive a weekly infusion of one drug (Rituxin).

Meanwhile, I will start the process of a stem cell transplant. My two siblings and I will have blood tests to see if one or both of them are a suitable stem cell donor. There is a 25% chance that either of them could be a match. If one of them is not the donor, then a search will be made on a national donor registry.

My hope is that a transplant could occur in January. I will need to decide whether to go to M.D. Anderson in Houston or Emory in Atlanta for the transplant. I do not relish spending a month in the hospital, much of it in isolation. Nor do I look forward to three months of follow-up with regular trips to the hospital. BUT if it necessary for life, so be it.

I realize as a consequence of having mantle cell lymphoma, I am 100 times more likely than other people to develop some other type of cancer. I have been much encouraged this week to hear the stories of others who have been through stem cell transplant and now live cancer-free.

"Now we who are strong ought to bear the weaknesses of those without strength and not just please ourselves. Each of us is to please his neighbor for his good, to his edification. For even Christ did not please Himself; but as it is written, "THE REPROACHES OF THOSE WHO REPROACHED YOU FELL ON ME." For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope." (Romans 15:1-5)

COMING HOME!

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 03:17:00 +0000

Cissy and I are preparing to come home this Friday night after 2 1/2 months of treatment in Houston at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. You cannot imagine how excited we are! My journal tells the story of the several months:
www.caringbridge.org/visit/phillellington

The current plan is that I will do a round of chemo treatment back home. After some recovery days we will head to the beach ,,,,

I WILL SURVIVE!

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Thu, 27 May 2010 06:17:00 +0000

Today I had a lymph node biopsy; also a port implanted in my chest for chemotherapy. On the way home from the hospital we stopped at Krispy Kreme. The hot light was on and I inhaled bunches of glazed doughnuts with tons of sugar. I am pumped!

LYMPHOMA

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Thu, 06 May 2010 18:43:00 +0000

I have not been feeling well for the last month. A result has been lack of energy to do things like write in my blog. Yesterday I received a diagnosis of lymphoma. Probably I will not be blogging much in the near future, but I have created a website to chronicle my return to health. Click on journal to read my story.

THE MASTERS

noreply@blogger.com (Phill Ellington) — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 16:28:00 +0000

Last week I watched all the live coverage on TV of the Masters Golf Tournament. I enjoyed watching all the players, from the 16 year old Italian to the 60 year old Tom Watson.

Yes, it was interesting to observe Tiger Woods return to golf. It was disappointing to hear his expletives after poor shots. To hear him as a Buddhist shout “Jesus Christ” when he was mad was puzzling to me.

My favorite golfer was Phil Mickelson. I saw his incredible round on Saturday with 2 eagles on 2 successive holes, and almost another one on the next hole, plus the amazing and daring shots on Sunday. Definitely, I was pulling for him to win.

No doubt many people were cheering for him because of the battles of his wife and mother with breast cancer over the last year. His cap with the pink ribbon for breast-cancer awareness certainly endeared him to women.

I noted with great interest that his wife and mother have been treated at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. Since I have made over a dozen trips to M.D. Anderson with my wife for her treatment of a malignant brain tumor, I could relate to the thoughts and feelings to go with that struggle.

The week prior to the Masters at the Shell Open in Houston, Mickelson pulled oncologist Dr. Tom Buchholz out of the crowd and used him as a caddy for a few holes. He birdied three consecutive holes.

“He’s been a huge part of helping us get through, and our surgeon, Dr. Kelly Hunt — this lady was incredible,” Mickelson said. “These two have helped us in the toughest time of our life.”

With his grin, great ability, and positive personality, how could anyone not root for Phil Mickelson? Though his wife Amy is weak from her chemo treatments, she made her only appearance at the Masters as Phil walked off the 18th green after winning the title. What an emotional sight as they embraced!

"It was a very special and emotional moment for us because we've been through a lot this last year," said Phil. He continued, "I was so excited to see her, I wasn't sure if she was going to make it out. To see her and the kids and be able to share that moment with them is something that we'll look back on years from now and cherish."

After he donned his green champion’s jacket, I plopped on a cap I bought at the Masters some years ago, and took a good jeep ride. I will cherish the moment also.