The Blog of Pastor Mike Wilkins
In The Long Run
"The long run" referred to in the title of this blog is, in the first place, the many years Mike Wilkins served as West London's solo pastor, and then its Senior Pastor, since he and his wife Deb moved to London (and this church) in 1984.
In these past few years (beginning November 2011,) Mike's various health challenges, particularly a serious and ongoing case of cancer, has added another layer to the "long run" metaphor, and lots to blog about. Mike is currently on an extended Sick Leave, but generally worships with the church family on Sunday mornings.
With the publication of a book he wrote in 2016 entitled "Glory in the Face" (now available electronically and in paperback from Amazon.ca, and other online venders), Mike has just launched a new website, which will serve as a sort of scrapbook for readers of the book, with relevant background photos, for example, of That Last Final Solo Canoe Trip in May, 2011, as well as additional information about the book, and--coming soon--a new set of blog posts, mostly about the peace of God and the joy of the Lord and the face of Christ and the strength to face anything. You'll find the new website now at www.gloryintheface.com.
Archives
Recent Posts
-
I have now made it 2/3's of the way through this 12-week chemotherapy regimen that I call Thing #3. It's going very well, it seems, as did Thing #1 and Thing #2. That is, the many possible side-effects I have been warned about have for the most part failed to materialize, and I continue to feel and (weirdly look) quite healthy. When asked, I say that, by the kindness of the Lord, everything seems to be going very well. The key word is "seems."
-
I am now nicely approaching the First Day of Winter, and the Centre Ice Line of my twelve-week-long skate in the Oncology Arena. Happily, and with thanks to the Lord, I am able to report that I seem to be escaping the majority of side-effects. In related news, my general commitment to focus on the liquid part of every half-filled glass of water deters me from focussing on my list of actual cancer-related losses, but in fact I do find a certain value in sometimes taking a look at the non-sunny side of things.
-
This Christmas Day will be the 40th that Deb and I have experienced together. A big round biblical number. As we've been working our way through our preparations for this particular edition of the Big Day, the unspoken (but not always unspoken!) awareness we share is that this Christmas Day actually might be our last.
-
"Winter in the soul is by no means a comfortable season, and if it be upon thee just now it will be very painful to thee: but there is this comfort, namely, that the Lord makes it … He is the great Winter King …"
-
The name of this blog of mine ("In the Long Run") springs from the truth that, for better or for worse, I have been West London's pastor for years and years and years. One of the great advantages of such "a long run" is that I hardly ever have to say, "Hm. We've never experienced THIS before." As it happens, I did say those very words this past Sunday when for the first time in my 29 years here, the Worship Services were called because of snow.
-
I am once more loaded up with tendencies to compare my personal medical adventures to the Second World War. I apologize to my friends and acquaintances with Mennonite backgrounds, but here I go again.
-
This week, this Friday morning in fact, I begin Thing #3: the first of six biweekly, four-hour (or so) sessions in the "Chemo Suite", where I will receive intravenously the first of six large loads of deadly chemicals. Deadly as in "cancer-killing." Deadly as in "destructive of more than cancer cells."
-
We met with the surgeon this week. He was quite encouraged and so quite encouraging. On the basis of the good results of my Summer Radiation and my September Surgery, he calls me "an excellent candidate" for a Liver Resection. On a related note, this very skilful surgeon, who Deb and I admire and appreciate very much, raised my odds of survival to 30%, explaining that, of course, it all depends upon me being "very very lucky."
-
Some good news this week. Yesterday we learned that the Pathology People have concluded that my gut-wrenching surgery (now four weeks ago) did manage to remove all the cancer from my nether parts. Meanwhile, the next set of chemotherapy treatments (declaring war on the cancer in my liver) begins in four weeks. So here, at the half-way point between my Previous Big Thing and my Next Big Thing, I am mulling over something that the Apostle Paul said about himself.
-
I've been home from the hospital for ten days, my gut-wrenching surgery now almost three weeks old. And how am I feeling? I'm happy to report that I am actually very happy. Really. I am really very happy, which surprises some people, I think, considering my circumstances, I mean my ongoing nasty case of terminal cancer.
