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admin

About admin

In the process of starting a new grassroots movement in downtown Vancouver, Washington. In the process of fighting terminal cancer. In the process of learning to be a better neighbor, husband, father, Christ follower, and friend. As initiators of the Grassroots Conspiracy we hope to be a part of a movement of hope, imagination, and transformation in our developing downtown neighborhoods.

Blaming God for Cancer

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One of the questions I often get is “do you blame God for making you sick?” My quick and easy (for me) response is “no, not at all.” I don’t blame God for making me sick, I don’t think he made me sick, and as a matter of fact I think he’s equally sad as I am that I’m sick.

Hold on.

Before I dig deeper here let me make sure you’re fully aware that in no way am I going to make an argument defending God, defending the idea that if God has the ability to heal me and does not he is somehow culpable and guilty of killing me, etc. Some of you are raising your hands, shaking your fists, and demanding that God be put on trial (rightfully so maybe). Others of you are standing up, shaking your fists, and are making a list of bullet points to absolutely prove why God is just in killing me ’cause he’s teaching me a lesson (or disciplining me or what have you). Well let me say that I’m not going to please any of you because first off I don’t want to attempt to articulately figure all this out. Secondly I don’t believe that it’s my job to defend God. He can do that himself if he so desires. Thirdly, I don’t know if I’m able to make an adequate argument.

So.

I don’t believe that God made me sick. One of my most foundational beliefs, something that everything else builds off of is that God is good. The clearest picture I have of who God is, is in Jesus. My belief is that when I see Jesus I am seeing God. Therefore if I want to know how God feels about sickness I look at Jesus. If I want to know what God thinks about humanity I look at Jesus. If I want to know what God would do at a party I look at Jesus. If I want to know about God one of the most clear ways is to look at Jesus…’cause they’re kinda one and the same. When I look at Jesus I see a guy who grieved over the brokenness of the world, who wept over death (to the point that he occasionally reversed it), and who didn’t seem to be satisfied with sickness (and healed accordingly).

Cancer is a reminder that this world is utterly broken. Things have spiraled out of control and continue to do so. War, hatred, sickness, disease, addiction, abuse, lust, and greed (among so many other things) fight to control our world and transform it into what it was never intended to be. These things, as we experience them, remind us that things are not as they should be, things are not right! And in no way do I have space to believe that God is the culprit. Nope. Instead, my belief is that God is the source of all things good, of love, of hope, of peace, of beauty, of sex, of joy, of kindness, of generosity, of gentleness, and of fresh organic strawberries. Those things come from God because that is who God is–he is good. Cancer is not one of those things. It does not come from God. Cancer is in opposition to God–hell on earth, if you will. God hates cancer because it is in opposition to what he is all about: life.

So do I blame God for my cancer? Absolutely not.

The question, though, that we’re all obviously stuck asking is “But God, why don’t you heal me of it?” If he is able to heal me and does not isn’t he still equally culpable? Let me throw out some random thoughts here. This isn’t an attempt to defend things fully, but rather a random collection of my own musings about this question that obviously plagues me from time to time…

  • At some point every single person is going to not be healed. What I mean is that even if I get healed now, at some point I won’t be…’cause at some point I’m going to be deader than dead. Whether it’s now or later it’s gonna happen. Healing is the ultimate bandaid, it’s only temporary.
  • I have absolutely no idea why one person gets healed and another doesn’t. I want to know why my friends eight year old daughter didn’t get healed from the same cancer that I have. Of all people little Hadley deserved to be healed–more than me and more than you. She was innocent and beautiful in every single way; she deserved healing. But she didn’t get it. And I don’t know why. If Hadley wasn’t healed why should I think that I deserve to be healed? Most likely…it has nothing to do with deserving it…right?
  • I feel complete freedom to be pissed at God, to tell him what I think. I’m pretty sure God can handle my anger. Just because I don’t blame doesn’t mean that I’m not mad that I haven’t been healed yet. There are certain things where anger is a completely appropriate response…and I think cancer can be one of them. And in no way whatsoever do I think that God gets mad if I express anger. Actually, as a matter of fact, I tend to think that God is pleased (maybe not the best word choice) when I am angry about things that he’s also probably angry about!
  • I try to realize and remember that I don’t know jack. I mean, seriously, what kind of perspective do I have in the big scheme of things? I think about my kids at Disneyland. They kept wanting to buy those big giant suckers that look really cool. But the thing is, they taste like crap and my kids hate them. Every time they buy one of them they regret it and wish they had bought something else. I know better than them. I do. I’ve got more perspective, I’ve got a better memory, I have more information…I just know better. I’m the dad. Ok, maybe that’s not the best illustration, but the idea that God knows better is important to me because if he truly is good (as my foundational assumption tells me he is) then I can trust that he’s not trying to screw me or those I love over. All of his activity is first and foremost motivated by love. always. (more than I can say for myself as a father or any other dads I know).
  • In his time on earth Jesus didn’t heal everybody. We read some of the spectacular stories of him healing somebody while ignoring the fact that he stepped over one cripple to get to another who then walked away on his own two feet. At times it had to do with the request made by the individual–but the reality is that there were many in Jerusalem and the surrounding area who remained sick, who stayed dead, and who Jesus did not heal. I don’t know why. But it’s true. And don’t tell me that it’s just a matter of faith. Don’t tell me that the only reason some were not healed was because they lacked faith–try reading the rest of the Bible and tell me that Stephen, James, and every single other apostle and leader and follower of Jesus lacked faith ’cause guess what? They all died! Some of them even brutally and tragically!
No, God never made a promise to heal me. I hope he does and I’m going to bug the hell out of him asking him to do so. But he didn’t make that promise. He promised me that I’ll always be loved. He promised me a new body that doesn’t suck. He promised me a restored world that isn’t broken. He promised me that I’m created in his perfect image. And he promised me that he’s faithful and will keep his promises. And he chose to let himself die to prove it.
Why do I not blame God? I guess it’s because over the years I’ve come to trust him. If you’re new to faith or the idea of faith I wouldn’t expect you to trust him like that necessarily. Trust is earned right? But I hope that my story, as your seeing it lived out, is inviting you to give him a chance. Let Jesus grow on you a bit and see if he doesn’t earn your trust eventually. It’s a scary thing to open yourself up like that, but it just might be worth it.

In the Hero’s Journey Nothing Is Wasted

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I don’t understand how school teachers do it. Granted, most teachers are not being taxed by cancer in their bodies, but wow did speaking yesterday wear me out! Five to six hours of constant dialog with high schoolers about death wears a guy out! Oh, I should back up and say that yesterday I was given the opportunity by my wonderful friend (and newly famous poet) Jenney to speak to all six periods of her high school english class. They had been spending a great amount of time studying a literary device called The Hero’s Journey which, if I understand it correctly, is a commonly found pattern or way of crafting a story. It is marked by the invitation to adventure or to take part in a story, by trials along the way, it says that you receive help from friends along the way but that they cannot solve the dilema, and leads to eventual freedom where you can then help others…at least I think I’m somehow capturing it.*

So Jenney invited me to share some of my story because of how it so directly connectes to The Hero’s Journey concept. The kids were forced to read some of my blogs (I’ve got to drive traffic somehow right?), they crafted an amazing set of questions, and then invited me to dialog with them.

As a recovering homeschool nerd speaking in a high school is a pretty foreign context. Can I say naught words? Can I wear a hat? Can I talk about my catheter? Can I mention Jesus? How honest can I be? Do I need to be ready to do a song and dance to entertain the teens? So many questions–and yet, in the end, we all just talked. We talked about death. I talked a lot about my children and my wife a lot. We all cried quite a bit. The students wanted to know how my life changed, they wanted to know how I’d live differently if I survive, they wanted to know if I’m afraid to die, they wanted to know what gave me hope, they wanted to know about reincarnation, they had so many good questions. I was very impacted by their ability to be present and emotionally available for such a deep conversation.

It was strange to find myself, near the end of every period, talking about the kingdom of God. Ok, so I didn’t actually say “kingdom of God”, but it’s what we talked about. At some point in every class we talked about hell, about how we all know hell in our lives or in the lives of those around us. Whether it is through divorce, sickness, addiction, or broken relationships we’re all experiencing the reality that this world is not right. I invited them to call it what it is, to recognize that cancer sucks but that there is hope for every single story (the Hero’s Journey). There is hope that every single story can be redeemed, that beauty can come from ashes, that what God does is he turns shit into something beautiful. I told them that even a story of death can be one of love and beauty if we’re willing to enter into it fully and allow it to become so. This doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck, it doesn’t mean that it’s not incredibly hard–but it does mean that nothing has to be wasted. This is all Kingdom of Heaven stuff. Essentially we, as a class, talked and dreamed about God’s ultimate reality coming to earth and eventually being fully realized post death. Kingdom.**

As I sit here knowing that literally 10’s of thousands of people are praying for God to heal my broken body I cannot help but cling to that kingdom idea: nothing is wasted. If prayer works how I think it works then I will most definitely be healed. But I’m not convinced that prayer works how I think it works (shoot, even using the word ‘works’ with regard to prayer clearly shows that my natural tendency is to use it as a tool rather than to see it as a dialog. I want to wield prayer like a magic wand more than anything else!). I’m not convinced that my theology on prayer is correct. I am convinced, however, that God is good. Everything builds off that. And speaking yesterday with those amazing students reminded me yet again that

  1. This world is broken (some of those students have tragic stories!)
  2. Things don’t always get reconciled in this world how we’d like (though we fight bravely to make it so!)
  3. That God desires to enter into every story and make it a Hero’s Journey where absolutely nothing is wasted
  4. Our hope ultimately is in a new body and restored world where everything is finally as it should be–as the Hero originally intended.

*If someone has some insight here and wants to post with more clarity I’d greatly appreciate it!

** I’m not going to lie, if you’ve heard me speak in different settings or if you’ve read my blog much…this is my spiel. I say this same thing in different formats over and over again…and yet I still feel like I’m needing to hear it myself. So my apologies if you’re wondering “haven’t I already heard Ryan say this?” ’cause the answer is a resounding YES!

Three Months and Counting

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Three to six months. Medically speaking this is what the doctor’s giving me to live. The three month mark is what she gives me if my new treatment doesn’t work. Actually, let me clarify a bit: three to six months are not actually my life expectancy exactly, it’s more that within three to six months we can assume that my tumor will grow in extensive ways leading to major paralysis and eventual death. When we asked her if this new treatment could reverse things and kill the cancer she plainly said “No it won’t get rid of the cancer, but it can stop future growth”…not quite what we hoped to hear! We were hoping that this new treatment would wipe out this cancer once for all!

Our doctor is amazing, she’s honest with us, gives us as much info as we’re can handle, and she’s a kind person. By the end of our appointment yesterday she had cried with us (something she does not do with patients!) and she gave us a wad of cash to pay for a motorized wheelchair for our next Disneyland trip. She also spoke boldly of the two miracles that she’s seen happen in her office and how she’s eager to see a third. I’d love to make her happy. Miracles do happen…just not as often as we want…but they happen.

Three months. Ninety days. That means that every nine days could be a tenth of my life.

1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…

It leaves me speechless.

I’ll write a better blog tomorrow. I’ve got some ideas ruminating that I’d like to share. My kids have some precious words that need to be shared. But for now I’m genuinely struck speechless by the idea that every week and a half I’m (medically speaking!) a tenth closer to being done…or worse yet, my wife is a tenth of the way closer to being alone. Shit.

How To Help

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(As things change I will continue to update this blog post. So below there have been added a number of new bullet points capturing a few alternative options to be involved.)

I’ve just added a new tab to the top of the blog that reads “How to Help“. So many people have asked this question or have been asked it by others that in a random moment of clarity I thought “Hmm, maybe I should post a written response…” Revolutionary right?

Many people have asked how they can help our family and/or support Grassroots Conspiracy financially. Let me do my best to give you a few options:

  • To help fund our trip to Disneyland (that just happened, is going to happen again, and is still being paid for) you can make a tax deductible donation via paypal. Send money to troywagner@mac.com and mark it as a gift for Ryan Woods.
  • To setup monthly tax deductible donations that supports our work in leading Grassroots Conspiracy you can go here: http://su.pr/1VwRyQ
  • To send money or checks that support our work in leading Grassroots Conspiracy you can mail a check written to “Renovatus” and earmarked for Ryan Woods or Grassroots Conspiracy to PO Box 873575 Vancouver, WA 98687
  • To donate monies that go directly toward our medical expenses you can deposit money through any Columbia Credit Union bank via account number: 444289
  • Another way to donate monies that go directly to our medical expenses is to send money via paypal to jonesandindia@gmail.com
Here are a few alternative ways to support our family:
  • Help us tell our story. Forward people to my blog, invite them to follow the posts concerning cancer, and invite people to sign up for our Downtown Dispatch.
  • While my future health is unknown a group still intends to move forward with (what will become) our annual Summer fundraiser. Last year on July 17th hundreds of people showed up at Pop Culture to support our family via live music, raffles, and donations. It was overwhelmingly beautiful. The idea is that this fundraiser will happen each year with or without me, with all proceeds going toward an appropriate destination. Please anticipate this event with us!
  • As other events and fundraisers develop I will add them to this page. At this point a local restaurant is hosting one on April 29th. To find out more visit the facebook info page: http://su.pr/4KxeYP
  • We are still trying to figure out what helpful meals and housework will look like in our current context. As this develops we will provide contact info here.
I know I have just provided too many options and most likely convoluted things a bit! The reality however is that it all ends up in the same place regardless of what method you use. Especially if things are nearing the end as the doctors say that they are, the lines between medical expenses, special trips with the family, and part-time salary wages from the church are becoming more and more blurry.
Please feel free to contact me with questions if you need clarity or further information. Email is preferred: ryan@gr-c.org

How to Create Dying Memories

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So you’re dying and you want to make every moment count, you want to create amazing memories over your potential last few months, you want to cross things off yours or your families bucket-ish list, you want every single moment to be special and memorable. So you go to Disneyland…or at least we did are.

First off let me say that we’re having an amazing time. But secondly, and this is where I’d like to dwell, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Disney isn’t the problem–it’s as backwards to what we believe in as ever and as amazing and fun an experience as ever. The problem is that no matter how much fun you want to have, no matter how many amazing things there are to do, no matter how many people (surprisingly and in painfully gracious ways) give generously to allow you to do whatever your heart desires…you’re still dying of cancer. And we all know it. I know it. My wife knows it. And my children know it. We are not necessarily talking about it, but it’s there like a dark cloud. In fact, there have been a few moments when my wife and I realize that we seriously only found out and told my kids that I’m dying just a couple of days ago! It literally JUST happened. What this translates into is that my son Jones’ anxieties are at record levels (if you know him and the fact that he has an anxiety disorder you understand what this means), Jess and I are emotional messes, and India can’t function unless she’s sitting on my lap (on my wheelchair). The intensity is painfully thick…painfully.

So what do you do? How do you live in the tension between reality and ideals? Here’s what our meager attempt to allow this trip to be what it needs to be while at the same time trying to make it an epic experience in and of itself is turning out to look like:

  • No pressure. None. If we don’t hit up every ride, if we don’t hit up the best rides, if we miss out on something “important” we’re trying to remember that it. does. not. matter. Not one bit. The point is to be together. Translation: headed into day three we’ve done all of one ride in California Adventure, we haven’t seen any shows, and haven’t hit up three of the ‘big’ mountains yet. It kills Jess and I (who happen to be professionals when it comes to sucking the marrow out of DL)
  • Pretend that money doesn’t matter. We’re not excessive here (I’m not sure we’re physically able to practice this one considering it goes against every bone in our bodies!), but part of the freedom we’re trying to give ourselves and our kids is that they/we can order what we want for dinner. That might be normal for you, but rarely in my whole life have I ordered whatever I want. You share, you buy the smaller version, etc. Stuff doesn’t bring happiness and doesn’t healthily fill a void, but it is fun sometimes! So we’re letting the kids buy a few extra souvenirs, an extra churro here or there, we’re letting them buy those expensive balloons that we know will still be deflated by the morning regardless of cool factor and cost, etc. Translation: we’ve spent more than expected and I’ve eaten well. But lets not lie here, no matter how much you’re willing to spend…a grumpy emotional kid with texture sensitivities and high anxiety will not like anything you buy for dinner! One direction that we’ve chosen to take is to spend a bit more money on memory-type souvenirs such as artwork and photography…and I don’t regret any of this one bit.
  • Pay attention. Probably more than anything it’s this one that matters. The kids need attention, they want it, they deserve it, and as witnessed through their occasional outbursts they demand it. When it comes down to it they could care less about the rides or the food; what they want is our presence, they want to know that even though dad might be leaving he is still here right now. Translation: cell phones haven’t been out much. My legs are raw and have scratches all over them from kids sitting on my lap. Jess and I are fighting being grumpy because while the kids need attention we want distraction more than anything else! 
  • Be Gentle. This is where the rubber meets the road. Stress, intensity, Disney, death, sleepiness, and anxiety amongst other things leads to a context where we’re each needing more gentleness and grace from each other more than ever and yet are feeling less equipped to dole it out than ever before. If this trip is going to work (and it is) it’s got to be on the back of a gentle and kind spirit toward each other. Translation: I’m failing here painfully! Or at the very least I’ll have segments at different points of each day where I come to the awareness that I’ve failed miserably. Jess and I are working together, however, on gently reminding each other of our own intensity and lack of gracefulness in our responses to others (namely the two little ones we brought with us).
  • Be flexible…but remember to eat. Flexibility has been a huge importance…but what we learned today was that it can’t come at the expense of taking care of ours and the kids’ actual needs. There have been times that we’ve all been having such a good time that we forgot to eat a meal…which is fine unless your emotional rope is already a twisted, knotted, and tangled mess. Flexibility has allowed us to make it this far; flexibility coupled with proper self care will get us home in one piece. Translation: I think I already made this one.
Don’t be fooled, though, this trip has been magical thus far. No joke. Staying at the Grand California Hotel has been one of the most amazing travel experiences of my life. No joke. My kids love it and would often prefer to hang out on the hotel’s premises instead of going to the theme parks. When we showed up on the first day and greeted my children by name at the door only to quickly give India a signed photograph from a handful of Disney princesses she not only beamed and giggled like a school girl but then turned to Jess and said in the most whispered and sacred voice that can’t be captured via blogging “…mommy…” it was if it was all she could say. Beautiful. Watching Jones go through Grizzly River Rapids with his incredible schemes for never getting wet (that at this point have worked 100% of the time) is so funny and so ‘Jones’. Jess and I keep looking at each other and wondering how we were able to go on this type of trip. We feel incredibly lucky blessed.
I guess what I’m trying to capture here is that I think the collection of ‘last moments’ that we’ll be experiencing over the next 3-6 months (though I’m eager to be completely off in these projections! I’m looking forward to being made a fool when 35 years down the line I’ve got to pay all of you back who are/have helped to make this trip happen) will not be defined based on context, money spent, food eaten, or any other externals. Don’t get me wrong, they are incredibly important. They are, they are very important, hence the reason we’ve got a growing list of places that we would like to go to over the next few moments. But that simply provides a memorable context, they DO NOT define it. It’s the raw knees from kids sitting on them, it’s in the moments of grace and gentleness, it’s in the conversations that happen, the games that are played together, the laughing and crying that happens together, and the “ordinary moments” that will in the end create the extraordinary moments that we are all craving.
Translation: I’m making all this up and I can only say that I think this is what I think. This is my first attempt at all this (my first attempt at having 3-6 months to live). I’m hoping that this is just a trial run and that I’ll get another shot at this later (I’m shooting for having 3-6 months to live in 30 plus years). But until all that’s made clear I’ll just keep trying and keep typing along the way.
Thanks for reading.