An Update from Mark Edwards

Returning from a week in Texas a couple weeks ago last Sunday night, I mentioned having made a couple of unexpected connections during the week. Here's the first: 

Having led music at Second Baptist Church in Memphis July 17, my flight to Texas for the Baylor Alleluia Conference was out of Memphis rather than Nashville... but not until 6:50 p.m., Sunday evening. We were through with church before high noon and what does one do in near 100 degree Memphis for the next 5-6 hours when hotel check-out is 12 o'clock?

My cell phone had died, so I found a Verizon store who put a charge on my phone while I walked across the street for lunch. (Never mind that I had gone through those motions of charging the phone all night at the hotel.) I honestly can't remember what I did the first half of the afternoon other than find a place to change from my Sunday clothes and drive to the outskirts of the airport to watch a few FedEx planes take off. But apparently Sunday is not a busy cargo day, so that didn't last long. Oh well, I found the long-term parking spot, gathered up my gear, and headed to the airport. Thinking to myself, "It's already 3:30, so we'll be boarding in only three hours." WRONG! 

As is my custom, I check my luggage rather than carry it on so I use the wait time to get in a walk. Security lines almost nil and having a pre-pass, I walked right through security. Now, it's barely 4:00, so I strike out on my walk. I've seen every inch of every concourse at the Memphis terminal at least four times. About halfway through the third lap, I noticed the monitor that reports my 6:50 Southwest flight is now 7:25. Oh good, another 35 minutes to kill. 

Some two hours into the wait, and being somewhat of a wood-worker, a handsome wall display of finished slats of various kinds of wood caught my eye so I stopped to have a closer look. Having nothing better to do and plenty of time, I read the labels, compared grains, and was conducting a fairly thorough inspection when I became aware that someone had walked up beside me to do the same thing. After a bit, she said, "Hmmh, they don't have any madrone?"

"Did you say madrone? I've never heard of that."

"Yeah, we have it in Texas."

“Texas? I grew up in Texas and have never heard of madrone. Where in Texas?”

“Comfort. It’s in the Hill Country.”

“Comfort? I got married in Kerrville (19 miles away).”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. What is madrone?”

She began to describe madrone as her son, entering Baylor this fall, walked on toward our gate. 

“So do you live in Comfort?”

“No, we live in San Antonio.”

“I grew up just south of San Antonio. Have you lived there all your life?”

“No, I used to live here.”

It turns out that Karen is the daughter of the late Bob Troutman, once pastor of Prescott Memorial Baptist Church in Memphis in the 60s. He was one of only two white Baptist pastors who participated in the march of the sanitation workers during the height of the civil rights movement in Memphis that led to the death of Martin Luther King. The other white Baptist pastor was Brooks Ramsey, who was then pastor of Second Baptist Church where I had led music that morning. She and her son had been in Memphis that weekend for centennial celebration of Prescott Memorial Baptist Church which has now merged with Shady Grove Presbyterian Church. (Somewhere along the line, Prescott had called a woman – Nancy Sehested – as pastor at which time they were disfellowshipped by the Shelby Baptist Association.)

We ventured down toward our gate and arriving noticed that our 6:50, 7:25 flight was now 7:55. UGH. But, it did provide time for the three of us to eat a bite and for me to learn more about her father. Preparing for the anniversary trip that weekend, Karen had gone through a box of her father's papers, sermons, writings, et cetera, in her attic which blessed her again. I asked her if any of the history of those two pastors had been written and she didn't know. So if any history buffs out there know anything about that, I'd like to hear from you. Seems like it would make a wonderful doctoral project for someone.   

Karen said they sang the hymn below at their anniversary event that morning. It’s a civil rights hymn:

Lift every voice and sing, till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise, high as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.

What a delight to have that kind of serendipitous experience along the way.  Stay tuned for another.

- Mark

An Update from Mark Edwards

I took a short day trip today northward to Bowling Green, KY, to have lunch with our long-time friend, Gomer. Gomer and his family were members of FBC Nashville from 1959 until several years ago when they thought it wise to live nearer to their oldest daughter, Connie. Younger daughter Nancy was in her first year at Belmont University when we came to Nashville in 1977, so we've known them nearly forty years. Honey and I went to visit Gomer almost two years ago at his still-developing retirement community, and he lives in the same comfortable, attractive villa. He and I have at least two things in common - we both lost our wives too soon, and we both miss them every day. This Sunday would have been Honey's and my 46th wedding anniversary, and today, Gomer reminded me that he and Marie were married just shy of 70 years. 

Gomer is amazing. He'll soon be 94, he lives alone, drives a perky Honda Fit, and meets Connie at FBC Bowling Green every Sunday. He walks slower than in days gone by and only occasionally uses a cane - not today. He keeps his mind sharp by working two crossword puzzles every day and reads one or two books on his Kindle every week... and it's working because he is still one sharp dude, I'm tellin' ya. He pulls out his iPhone and swipes, punches, and pecks the thing like a teenager. 

Gomer was always a good churchman in Nashville and certainly stays up-to-date with goings on at his current steeple. He told me about the new Pastor, and we talked about the interim Minister of Music and the search for the permanent person. 

 As we drove out of his community en route to lunch, he pointed out some of the new construction in his village, specifically the clubhouse. 

"Are they including a racquetball court, Gomer?"

"No, and I'm glad they're not because I would be tempted, and I don't need that."

I think I remember that Gomer was a noonday regular at the Y only a couple blocks from "the Board" (now Lifeway) where he worked almost a whole career. He was a reputed racquetball player. 

I drove, and he navigated us several miles to downtown and narrated various points of interest while looking ahead and directing me into correct lanes of traffic in plenty of time to make necessary turns en route to the restaurant. I was impressed. We enjoyed a wonderful lunch at Steamers, an almost new seafood spot. We talked mostly about his coming to and working at "the Board," but only because I kept asking.

Back in his living room, I noticed a digital keyboard in his second bedroom, and before I left, he wanted me to play it a bit.

"Gomer, I had NO idea you play the piano."

"Yeah, I got this thing some time back. We had another one, but I wanted one with weighted keys."

I sat down and played, "God Leads Us Along," which was already on the music rack. He sat in the computer desk chair and sang along. 

"That was Marie's favorite, and it was sung at her service."

Many times, Honey and I remarked to one another and celebrated together the host of good, good people we were blessed to know, love, and learn from during the forty years of ministry in three loving, supportive, and nurturing churches. Gomer and Marie Lesch were in that crowd, and he's still blazing the trail for some of us. 

Thanks, Gomer... and thank you, God. 

In shady, green pastures so rich and so sweet, 
God leads His dear children along;
where the water's cool flow bathes the weary one's feet, 
God leads His dear children along.

Sometimes on the mount where the sun shines so bright,
God leads His dear children along; 
sometimes in the valley, in darkest of night, 
God leads His dear children along.

Though sorrows befall us and evils oppose, 
God leads His dear children along; 
through grace we can conquer, defeat all our foes, 
God leads His dear children along. 

Okay, sing the refrain with me --

Some through the waters, some through the flood, 
some through fire, but all through the blood;
some through the great sorrow, but God gives a song
in the night season and all the day long.

God Leads Us Along - Words: G.A. Young

An Update from Mark Edwards

Mid-afternoon today I returned from a fast almost nine days away -- a combination of work and play. The work part was leading three sessions at Baylor's annual Alleluia Church Music Conference -- two related to the Notes from Susie book and one pinch-hit conducting a reading session of some Celebrating Grace music. That event is always fun because I'm always able to re-connect with friends from afar, and this year there was a good crop of them. 

The play part was seeing some family and visiting with a few friends along the way as far south as San Antonio. I had a couple of interesting expected "coincidences" that I'll tell you about in the next few days. 

The bookend Sundays on either side of the Baylor event, I led music at Second Baptist Church in Memphis where son Nathan paved a clear path for me to step in and enjoy the fruits of his bi-vocational labor as minister of music through the end of June. He even scripted the worship services through July so I led the hymns and anthems he chose. He chose well, and the choir sang well. 'Twas gratifying indeed to hear many in that congregation speak how much they appreciated Nathan's ministry and how much they now miss him, Corri, and kids. Attaboy, Nate!

Sitting in church this morning and again rolling along I-440 this afternoon, it occurred to me how blessed and thankful I am nearing age 69, to first be able to continue to "play" in the church music game and even greater, to have the opportunity to do so -- yet more of God's goodness and provision for me. I love music of the church and next Sunday I get to do some more of it with the best singing congregation and choir I know -- FBC Nashville. That's always a treat and I look forward to it. 

It's good to be home now for a while. Gallivanting around as in recent days takes its toll on an old dude. 

Here's a hymn we sang at Second this morning: 

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
in cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter there's a spring that waits to be, 
unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see. 

There's a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
there's a dawn in every darkness bringing hope to you and me. 

From the past will come the future; what it holds a mystery, unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.  

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
in our doubt there is believing: in our life, eternity. 

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory, 
unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

Hymn of Promise – words by Natalie Sleeth 
© 1986 Hope Publishing Company

Living Into Songs of Faith by Mark Edwards

It has been nearly nine years since I’ve had a weekly music-leading responsibility, but I still think about it quite a bit – not the weekly responsibility but the “stuff” of that role. Ministers of music (a term that dates me) are first of all minister to their congregation, but primarily utilize and specialize in things musical to express that ministry. The main tools of a church music leader are the hymns and songs they offer, teach, or sometimes impose on their choirs and the congregation gathered in worship.

I’ve about decided that the music leader can experience any piece of music and deliver it to his/her congregation on three levels. The first level is simply knowing the piece musically and mechanically. At this level the leader can say the all the words, sing the tune, and lead the song appropriately – basic but also “surface.”

Below that plane is a second level – understanding the piece. Here the leader will explore the breadth and depth of a song’s message, its theology, and its value in worship. She might ask questions such as “How does this piece edify the body of Christ?” or “Is music and text well-matched; does the music convey the text well or does it compete with it?” or “Is it singable and worth singing?” Seminary hymnology classes and helping build two hymnals in my ministry were rich, extended sessions in this second level.

The third and deepest level is for the leader to live into the song. For me, this is the great lesson learned and discovery made while Honey was sick and since her death sixteen months ago. Perhaps it took a dark night of the soul to awaken this level in me. But I’m thankful to be continuing to learn it because I experience songs of the faith – primarily the hymns – at a much deeper and more personal level than ever before. Hymns ancient and modern, and especially the Celebrating Grace Hymnal are like discovering a new book of Psalms.

I still lead music out and around these days – this summer most Sundays in three different spots. I won’t say I’m better at it than before, but now “living into it” likely makes me different at it. I try to engage the worshiping congregation at the “living” level.

Consider camping in a hymnal for a spell and work at living into what you find there. Here’s one you might begin with. It’s a hymn and a Psalm – the 84th . Read it aloud several times and claim a line or two for the day.

How lovely, God, how lovely is Your abiding place;
my soul is longing, fainting, to feast upon Your grace.
The sparrow finds a shelter, a place to build her nest;
and so Your temple calls us within its walls to rest.

In Your blest courts to worship, O God, a single day
is better than a thousand if I from You should stray.
I’d rather keep the entrance and claim You as my Lord,
than revel in the riches the ways of sin afford.

A sun and shield forever are You, O God most high;
You shower us with blessings; no good will You deny.
The saints, Your grace receiving, from strength to strength shall go,
and from their lives shall rivers of blessing overflow.

How Lovely, God, How Lovely – words by Arlo D. Duba, 1984 © 1986 Hope Publishing Company

- Mark

"What Others Say": Paul Clark, Jr. on Notes from Susie

Any good music minister knows that singing forms our faith. Mark Edwards has spent his life helping others engage in that practice, but as his wife, Susie (Honey) and Mark journeyed through their most challenging days they allowed others a window into their own faith journey to find scripture, song, and loving relationship on full display as they faced the predictable highs and lows of a battle with cancer. I was privileged to be one of those peering through the window via Facebook updates and the "Notes from Susie" reflections in this tome. I have treasured friendship with Mark for a long time and worked in the same building with Susie for fifteen years. When I first heard the news of the onset of Susie's illness, I found it hard to find the words to express to my friend the depth of my care. Words of hymns, however, came to mind and heart often and I would send a phrase off in a text message to Mark. Of little surprise, most every time I texted him, Mark would fire another hymn phrase right back. When we talked on the phone, Mark would remind me that Susie and he had determined to "choose joy" through this journey, and choose joy they did. You will see it reflected in these pages, and sense the warmth of Christian fellowship exemplary of what "church" is supposed to be. You will get a glimpse of the love and devotion that defines the Edwards family. Perhaps, like me, you will find renewed resolve to express in word and deed your own love for others, especially your spouse. I hope you will also find the song of deliverance, of courage, of strength, implanted in the heart of Jesus followers. 

- Paul Clark, Jr., Director of Church Music
Tennessee Baptist Convention

Exclusive Excerpt: Mark Edwards

Whether you were a part of the original Facebook group or Susie and Mark's cancer journey is all new to you, Notes from Susie: Choosing Gratitude in Life’s Low Places offers something helpful to each reader. Combining additional material with the compiled and enriched Facebook posts written during Susie's illness, the book illuminates the Edwards' joys and struggles, all the while buoyed by recent and timeless hymns that assured them of God's presence.

As the final part of this blog series, we will highlight an exclusive excerpt from the Epilogue section of the book created by Mark Edwards to complete the story, add background, and lend future perspective to the reader: 

It has been a few months since Honey died, and I continue to work through the grief process that, looking back, actually began soon after we received her diagnosis. Still, though, I catch myself trying to solve the unsolvable and unravel that which we will only "understand better by and by."

The last two years of her life were but a small slice of her otherwise beautiful and almost storybook sixty-three years, as well as our nearly forty-five years together. We were determined that this brief stretch would not define or detract us. We enjoyed recalling, reciting, and celebrating anew how God's goodness and mercy had, indeed, followed us all the days of both of our lives. We were both raised in good Christian homes; both navigated safely through high school; we found each other earlier on; we served three wonderful churches; Weslee and Nathan -- our children -- were/are wonderful; we have had good jobs, a stable home, enough money, good, good friends through the years, caring neighbors. The list is endless. Life has had its ups and its downs, its joys and sorrows, its curves and straightaways. But until March 2013 we had been pretty much spared serious challenges and difficulties that other couples and families face. By the grace of God, we were able to focus on and live in the light of all the joy and brightness that had characterized the vast majority of our days. 

I am not ready to say that two years of painful cancer and ultimately Honey's death were God's plan, but I firmly believe that God is working good things in the lives of those of us left in the wake of her death. The opportunity to compile/write this book seems to be early evidence of God's "work for the good" for me. Reliving and scripting some of the story is emotional and even somewhat painful, but the greater portion is joyful and gratifying. We know not what lies ahead, so we are trying to trust the One who clearly does; frankly, there's some excitement in living expectantly even through the shadows.  

My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn that hails the new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul – how can I keep from singing?”

- Robert Lowry, 1869

- Mark Edwards

Exclusive Excerpt: Nathan Edwards

Whether you were a part of the original Facebook group or Susie and Mark's cancer journey is all new to you, Notes from Susie: Choosing Gratitude in Life’s Low Places offers something helpful to each reader. Combining additional material with the compiled and enriched Facebook posts written during Susie's illness, the book illuminates the Edwards' joys and struggles, all the while buoyed by recent and timeless hymns that assured them of God's presence.

As part of our next blog series, we will highlight excerpts from the sections of the book created to complete the story, add background, and lend future perspective to the reader. This week, explore an exclusive excerpt from Nathan Edwards as he discusses how the special moments between grandmother and grandson became fond memories for years to come: 

A very wise person helped me to understand that there isn’t necessarily a right way to handle this type of situation. We simply handle this in the best way we know how. I believed her (mostly) and applied that same philosophy to how we helped Daniel [son] prepare for Honey’s passing. As he is one who needs facts and details, we answered all of his questions directly and truthfully. We prayed specifically for Mom – for less pain, for informative and definitive tests, for positive test results; and for strength and comfort when results were not what we had hoped. We assured him that Honey would be healed in heaven with God. We told him than we would be sad because she wasn’t here with us, but we should be glad that we knew her, and thankful that she would no longer have to live in pain.

Perhaps the best part of how we helped our kids prepare for Honey’s death was that we didn’t have to do it by ourselves. In many ways, Honey herself prepared both Daniel and Ella [daughter]. While she was sick, she did everything she could to have the strength to honor the sacred Target run with them. She continued to tell them that she loved them dearly… just because they live and breathe, and she continued to tell them how much joy they brought her.

Even before she was sick, though, she was helping him prepare to remember her after she was gone. There were times in his younger years when Daniel would spend extended periods of time with Honey and Papa. They would stay in Birmingham while Corri [wife] and I took trips, or we would send him to Nashville to visit. Each time, Mom would have special things for them to do.  She would research museums, farms, parks, and everything in between to be sure that there was plenty for them to do. She took pictures, and she made scrapbooks of their adventures together. I underestimated the value of these treasures. While Honey was still alive, we would wake up to find Daniel flipping through the pages of those books. That has not changed now that she’s gone. We still find him reading those stories and seeing the pictures of those special times. It is a way that Mom helped prepare our son to remember her after she was gone.

There are many things from Honey’s life that we could try to instill in our kids. But, one trait is clearly a “must”: Honey lived a life of absolute gratitude. She was thankful in all things, for all things, and especially, for all people. When our kids begin complaining about something they didn’t get or doing something they’d rather not, Corri and I try to remind them about Honey. We tell them that the best way we can remember Honey, and to thank God for getting to know her, is to show gratitude in all things, for all things, and for all people. We have to remind them of that from time to time. We all need reminding of that ourselves from time to time.

Exclusive Excerpt: Weslee Edwards Hill

Whether you were a part of the original Facebook group or Susie and Mark's cancer journey is all new to you, Notes from Susie: Choosing Gratitude in Life’s Low Places offers something helpful to each reader. Combining additional material with the compiled and enriched Facebook posts written during Susie's illness, the book illuminates the Edwards' joys and struggles, all the while buoyed by recent and timeless hymns that assured them of God's presence.

As part of our next blog series, we will highlight excerpts from the sections of the book created to complete the story, add background, and lend future perspective to the reader. This week, explore an exclusive excerpt from Weslee Edwards Hill as she recounts how she and her young family processed the realization that cancer would inevitably claim the life of their beloved mother and grandmother:

As a counselor, there have been many times I have sat across from a client and walked with them down their personal road of grief offering advice, hope, encouragement, and hopefully comfort along that often difficult road. Taking classes, reading books, and having a piece of paper on your wall that says you have learned enough to help others doesn’t always mean you are adequately prepared to help your own loved ones as they travel down the same road of grief.

There are books to be read, there are classes that can be taken, there are degrees to be granted, but when it comes to helping your own little ones navigate this road, you do the best you can do, and hope and pray that God takes what you’ve attempted to do and that He makes it something helpful, beautiful, and part of His plan in their lives.

Chris and I have three precious boys, and I knew from the beginning that each one would approach Honey’s illness and death differently. The challenge was knowing what each needed and when they needed it. As a whole, we were up front with them when we knew specifics to tell them. It was a hard balance to find between too much and not enough information for children under age ten. We prayed for Mom at mealtimes, and any time the boys had questions we answered them to the best of our abilities. I probably shielded them from most of the day-to-day stuff to keep them from being overwhelmed with it all.

One week sticks out most vividly in my mind as we were all processing what the inevitable outcome was going to be for Mom. I had come back from a weekend trip to Nashville, and our family was sitting down to Sunday night dinner. It was a gut-check moment for me as I told the boys that Mom wasn’t going to be getting better. I tried to balance each of the kids’ needs as I carefully chose the words I said. I watched Jonathan clam up and try to change the subject.  I watched Andrew’s eyes fill up with tears and then try to comfort me. I watched Thomas as he looked around the table. We left the table that night, but the conversation stayed with everyone. It wasn’t until Wednesday night after church as I was tucking the boys into bed that it came up again. Andrew crawled up on the top bunk, laid his head down on his pillow, and told me that he asked for prayer for Honey since she was going to die from her illness.

I said, “Yes sweetheart, she is.”

At that moment, Jonathan, who was in the bed behind me, said, “WHAT?!?!?!? Honey is going to die from cancer????” I turned around to see the fire and tears in his sweet, big, blue eyes. I said, “Yes, sweetheart, she isn’t going to get better and she is going to die from cancer.” His face got red, the tears started flowing, and out came everything he had been storing up. He hit his bed over and over with balled-up fists and screamed, “I. HATE. CANCER!!!!!!” When he got all the rage out and collapsed in a ball of tears, we all just cried and hugged and held each other tight because there was nothing else that could be said or done. He had said it for all of us. 

- Weslee Edwards Hill, 
daughter of Mark and Susie Edwards

"What Others Say": Dr. Penley on Notes From Susie

Attentive physicians learn much by caring for their patients. Susie Edwards taught me much about living with grace. She faced an illness that could have made her angry or bitter, for it robbed her of time with those that she loved. Nonetheless, she possessed an air of quiet dignity and peace that allowed those around her to see that she would not allow cancer to dominate her spirit. Even in the toughest of times, she wore a gentle smile that put others at ease. She taught me that we have the ability to live fully, even when confronting the most difficult of life's circumstances. I am grateful to have known her and miss her very much. 

In the book, Mark's brother Randy writes about the last time that we were all together in my office. We had said just about all the words that needed to be said, and sat quietly for several moments. As I recall, I held her hand -- I had a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat. Randy remarked that he felt the presence of Jesus in that small exam room. I know that God's peace was abundantly present, and it helped us all at that very difficult moment.

Charles Penley, M.D.,
Tennessee Oncology

I Cannot but Rejoice: Response from Reader Lyn Robbins

Lyn Robbins

For today’s post, we would like to share with you a message from Lyn Robbins. This was sent to co-author Mark Edwards following the Susie Edwards Memorial Concert at First Baptist Church, Nashville:

Mark,

It is 11:30 Sunday night, May 22, the night after the memorial concert. I have just finished the book.

I sat up late reading last night, but I had to give up a little after midnight, 100 pages or so in. As you know, Friday and particularly Saturday were long days, and I was exhausted.

I picked up again on the flight home. I expect the tattooed gentleman sitting next to me drinking his scotch on the rocks wondered why I was getting weepy reading a paperback, but he did not ask. The plane landed just as Susie was choosing to forgo further treatment and you were calling in hospice. We got our bags, drove home, and spent some time with Annessa. Then, I came upstairs, turned on the video of the concert, and finished reading.

If you have watched the video yet, you know it starts with some "dead air." The music does not start until a few minutes into the video. This timing created what I would call coincidences -- if I believed in coincidences. For instance, as I got to the page on which you recorded Susie's actual death, speaking of how she "turned and looked straight into the Light," I was listening to "Be Thou My Vision." As I read the section on "Celebrating Alone," telling of your immediate reactions in the weeks and months after her death, I was listening to "Sometimes a Light Surprises." As I got to Weslee's incredible chapter, I was listening to "I'll Sing the Christian Song: 'I'm Going to Live Forever.'"

The video is still playing as I type this email to you now.

Having read most of the words in Notes from Susie the first time as they were posted on Facebook, I went into reading the book with an expectation of being reminded, and I suppose I was, but that is far and away not the primary experience... or even in the Top 6, of what the book meant to me. This was not about reminders. Reading the book was an almost entirely new, and profound, event.

Sorry, I need to stop typing for a moment so I can listen to and watch "Expression of Gratitude."

(Wow.)

(Catching my breath...)

OK, I am back. But now, I have to listen to Ragan read John 14. Perhaps trying to type while this video is playing is a bad idea...

So, if being reminded was not the primary impact of the book, what was?

First, I heard Susie's voice so clearly. As I told Gena on the drive home from the airport, I do not know that I ever thought of Susie's speaking voice as being particularly unique, but it is distinct to me now. I read all the time, and I suppose I conjure up voices in my imagination for characters in books, but never before has it happened to me like this... where I read the words of someone and hear her particular voice enunciating every syllable as though she were sitting next to me, carrying on a conversation. I don't really know what to make of that yet, except to say that if your intention was to make the book personal -- you certainly succeeded. I did not hear her voice that same way when I was reading the posts on Facebook; this was different in kind... so perhaps there is something to the idea that Susie was somehow with me, sitting next to me, writing me a note and reading it out loud to make sure it was just right before she sealed the envelope, as I read.  My theology does not entirely know what to do with that, but I know what I experienced.

Second, I am overwhelmed by her lists of things for which she was grateful as she was walking through the shadow... even at times expressing thankfulness for her health.

Third, I found myself rooting for her as I read. Of course, I knew the ending. I knew that she was not going to make it.  But as I turned pages, especially early on, I found myself hoping against hope that the next infusion would be the magic elixir that would kill the dreaded disease and mean decades more of life for her. Illogical? Yes, since I just sang in her memorial concert. And yet, the struggle was on, and as in any good book, I was fighting right along with the hero. 

Fourth, I found myself asking hard questions, questions with painful answers. Since I knew the ending, and the timing of the ending, as the days wore on and became more and more painful, I started yelling (in my head - I did not want to disturb my seatmate's scotch) at Susie not to have that next infusion, not to put herself through another dose of poison that I knew was not going to work. I found myself asking, "Was it worth it?" And before that awful question was even fully formed, the answers came flooding in. Whether the medicine gave her another week or another month is not for me to know, but what I do know is the implausible, incredible, oh-so-real impact Susie's (and your) experiences had and are having on hundreds, yea thousands, of people every single day. What God did with your choices, your hurts, your hopes, your dealing with the ups and downs of a losing battle, and of course your faith goes beyond the depths of comprehension, passing all understanding. Weslee's fish-and-loaves explanation in her chapter of the book is the best way to say it, of course. You and Susie made every choice based on the best advice from your doctors, taking each other's wishes into account, and grounded in faith in God; and the outcome was what the outcome was. In the meantime - in the middle of the journey - you both evidenced what most only sniff around the edges, if they have any real sense of it at all. I do not for a minute suggest that this two-year free-fall was "worth it" or was "God's plan;" but I know beyond all doubt that God did and is doing a marvelous thing with Susie's last two years.  And just as God needed Antonio to build a Stradivarius violin, he needed Mark and Susie to pen these words.  During the daily readings of the postings, I had no perspective to understand this; at that point, it was simply praying and hoping and waiting for what would happen next. Now, in reading the book when I know the ending... and simultaneously regretting every pain and miserable moment she had and you shared... I cannot but rejoice.  

Fifth, I am humbled by your faith. I have known you a long time. I sang under your baton for years. We did shows together. We played softball together. You ministered to my wife in many personal and powerful ways. You and I were charter members of the Tuesday morning Bible study group you still attend. I have always known you as a man of faith... but this dark night of the soul gave you a whole new way to follow, a demonstration of faith beyond the comfort of the podium and the notes-and-rests for which you were trained.  And I suspect you would admit -- and agree with me -- that these struggles grew your faith. You discovered a new song in the night, a new hymn-tune to which to set words you had known for years. You demonstrated vulnerability and questioning without once betraying a failing of faith, and for that you are a role model to me and to all who read this book. Like Jacob, you had to wrestle with God, and you emerge walking with a pronounced limp; but you leave as Israel, the chosen of God.

And after all that... yes, I was reminded of the privilege I had -- as countless others had -- to share a little part of the journey with you both. 

Thank you for the book. Thank you for sharing. I thank my God in all my remembrance of Susie, and of you.

Lyn Robbins, attorney
Robbins Travis, PLLC, 
Southlake, TX