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"I'm feeling fine, one day at a time"

Saturday June 21, 2003 02:11 PM

It’s 6am as I write and the house is still quiet and dark. Outside, the rain is tumbling down and the sky is a dreary grey. It’s one of those misty-moisty mornings when the bed you’ve left behind was comfortable and warm and it’s dark outside and the house is still asleep.

In the background, the coffee machine rumbles away, faithfully trying to keep to its morning schedule. Hearing that someone is up, our dog lazily flicks open an eye and stirs in his kennel. Life in the Wark home is beginning to come to life. Soon, my kids will emerge from their bedrooms, shuffle down the hallway into our bed and pull the covers over their heads. One final reprieve from getting up and beginning the day.

A fairly typical morning for us. Probably not dissimilar to many homes. Yet hearing my family wake and sleepily greet the new day remains, for me, one of life’s simple pleasures. A new day has been born. A gift to embrace; a day to enjoy the laughter of my children and the warmth of my wife’s smile.

The day is now young and fresh. Anything and everything is possible.

“A jurnata è ‘nu muorzo” - the day is a morsel - one bite and it’s gone. Better make the most of it!

I have been thinking much lately about prayer and its unseen yet very real power. Whether or not one begins the journey with religious convictions, I think almost all cancer patients would agree that battling cancer is as much a spiritual task as it is a physical one. When forced to stare your own mortality in the face, one becomes acutely aware that life is more than just the physical dimension.

Since being diagnosed with terminal cancer earlier this year, hundreds of people around the world - some known to us but many who are not - have written and said they are praying for our family. We are now approaching the six-month mark and I feel in better health than I did in January. While there are undoubtedly a variety of reasons for this, I cannot deny that these prayers have had a very direct and real impact on my life, my health and the physical, mental and spiritual wellness of my family.

A while back, a good friend gave me a short book on fighting cancer, written by Richard Bloch (co-founder of H&R Block Inc.), who has wrestled with the disease himself. Within the book, Bloch highlights an interesting piece of research conducted by the University of California-San Francisco that illustrates the power of prayer.

While the study specifically deals with patients recovering from open heart surgery, I think the findings are relevant to anyone facing a life-threatening illness.

The patients participating in the research were randomly sorted by a computer into a trial group and a control group. Nobody but the computer knew who was in which group. The doctors, the nurses and even the patients had no idea.

The list of the trial group names was then given to the students of a monastery, who were asked to pray for these patients several times each day. The students and those on the list never met, nor did the patients have any idea that they were being prayed for.

Some years later, the results of the study were published. Surprise, surprise...those prayed for were found to have experienced a much faster and easier recovery with fewer side effects than those in the control group. As Bloch points out in his book, “Think of what the results might have been if the psychological aspects could have been added and they knew they were being prayed for.”

I don’t pretend to fully understand how prayer works, yet I am convinced it is the single greatest thing keeping me going and our family strong at this time. We so appreciate the many people who faithfully remember us in prayer. We have nothing to offer in return, other than our heartfelt thanks.

And now...on with the day. “A jurnata è ‘nu muorzo!”

With much love,

Andrew

 

 

A Quiet Splendour

Monday June 9 2003 11:45 PM

For the past two weeks, Andrew and I have had the pleasure of visiting Italy and France. It has long been a dream of ours to run our hands across the columns of Rome’s ancient Forum; to skip a stone in Lake Como; and to see the palette of flowers from which Impressionist artist Claude Monet took his inspiration.

With this in mind, Andrew’s oncologist said to us, “Well then, if you want to go, you should go now.” And so, rather spontaneously, we left the kids in my Mum’s good hands, packed our bags and headed for Rome.

Our small hotel was located a stone’s throw from the Roman Forum. As we breakfasted in the rooftop garden, we would look out and see the ancient columns in one direction and the memorial to Vittorio Emmanuel II in the other.

Our days were filled with wonder as we explored the narrow, cobblestone lanes which would lead us to the Pantheon, the Piazza Navona and the Spanish Steps. We stood in awe at Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Andrew tossed a coin into the Trevi Fountain (meaning you’ll return to Rome) and we stuck our hands into the Mouth of Truth. Dutifully, we tried to have a daily dose of that amazing Italian gelato to fortify us.

Andrew’s favourite meal in Rome was at a small Sardinian trattoria. He had wild boar in red wine sauce. I was taken by the Trattoria der Pallaro, a family-run restaurant near the Campo de Fiore. There is no menu and, basically, you eat what you are given. But oh, what we were given! From the antipasto to dessert, the glorious food just kept on coming.

One day, we walked through the Circus Maximus, built at the feet of Imperial Palace on Palatine Hill. During the days of the caesars, this was where the great chariot races were held (think of Ben Hur). All that remains now is an empty field where people walk their dogs and young boys play soccer. Your imagination has to fill in the rest.

Leaving Rome, we traveled north by train to Florence. With the compliments of the Orient Express Hotels, we stayed at the Villa San Michele, an exclusive hotel nestled in the hills above Florence. There is a quiet splendour to this former 15th Century monastery. Our suite was set apart from the hotel and we were enthralled by waking up to the view of the rising sun gilding the domed cathedral in the city below us.

More than the sculpted gardens and the opulent surrounds, we found the generosity of the hotel staff and management to be heart warming. Late one afternoon, we walked up the hill to the nearby village of Fiosole. As we entered the square, someone stopped us and greeted us by name. It was Paulo, one of the concierges from the hotel. This was his day off, yet he took the time to take us to his friend Franco’s restaurant and introduce us.

We won’t forget the experience of dining in the garden under the shadow of the ancient church tower with the melodious clamour of its bells pealing forth every half hour. Now, as I recall these memories, I am filled with wonder at how Andrew and I had such a time as this to be together in the midst of his cancerous journey.

Another highlight of the trip was our time in Bellagio, a jewel of a town set on the shores of Lake Como, just below the Swiss border. There, we met up with Mary and Curtis Gautschi and their three children. Our friendship with Mary goes back to our days of Christian service in the Belizean rainforests. The last time I saw Mary and Curtis was at their wedding in Toronto in 1991. Over pasta pesto and a ferry ride on Lake Como, we recounted the goodness of God to each of our families over the many years since we had last been together.

The last leg of our tour took us to Paris and, like all good tourists, we visited the Eiffel Tower, the Notre Dame Cathedral, climbed to the top of the Arch de Triomphe, and took the boat tour up the Seine. Most memorable was the visit to Giverny to see Claude Monet’s gardens and then later to visit the D’Orsay museum to see the original artworks by Monet, Gauguin, Degas and Renoir.

As we travelled and explored the splendour of the kings of old, we couldn’t help but note the fleeting nature of each of their reigns. Alas, from the caesars of Rome, encamped at Palatine Hill...to Louis XVI in his palace of grandeur in Versailles...those who once believed themselves indomitable...are now but dust.

Walking through the paths of the ancients, we could only imagine that what we were seeing was but a shadow of what once was. We looked on the remnants of Roman columns and walked around stone walls, realizing that where we stood was the place where the caesars were once crowned with their laurels.

To some degree, we could see that even the quiet splendour of the most exquisite villa where we stayed outside of Florence will pale in comparison to how real and remarkable heaven will be.

Now we are home and joyously reunited with the kids. The day after we came back, Andrew’s sister Kim, her husband Neil, and their five children arrived from Australia. They are here with us for about two weeks and, as I write, Kim and Andrew are enjoying a late night cup of coffee and speaking of absurdities as only siblings can.

Just before we left, we received an e-mail from Jennifer, a woman we haven’t yet met but who has read the website. She wrote: "I was recently given a very real image of prayer - I saw all the prayers of the people being woven into a cradle that was rocked by the hand of God."

We certainly have felt the truth of that image. Andrew, hidden in the cradle of prayer, experienced amazing health and energy while we were in Europe, as day-after-day we explored and took on new adventures. He has been outside everyday since we came home, pottering around in the garden and enjoying getting his hands dirty.

We thank God for each person who has prayed and sent us such good wishes. We especially thank my Mum, for without her generous offer to stay with the kids we would never have been able to make the journey to Italy and France. And our special thanks to our dear friends, Jeff and Gretchen Ryan. Their generosity made this dream trip come true.

The European Tour - Photo Album

 

 
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