My mom and I had a conversation today about religion and faith, specifically about whether or not a person is going to Heaven. She's Catholic, so she sees things from a Catholic perspective. As a Protestant myself -- well you get the rest.

We both agree that no one can guess if another person is going to Heaven. That's a given, because no one can know the relationship anyone else shares with God, if any. That's part of why we are to reach out to others about Jesus and explain the reason behind his life and his death.

Where our views take a turn is whether or not a person can be assured of his or her own salvation. A Catholic can't ever know whether or not they'll get to Heaven, because to think that is to assume they know the mind of God. No one can know the mind of God, and to assume that is beyond arrogance.

To get answers to difficult questions about faith such as this one, I turn to Scripture. The New Testament states multiple times that when we turn to Christ and ask for forgiveness of our sins, we are saved. One of Jesus' last statements was when one of the thieves asked to be remembered when he entered the his Kingdom, and Jesus promised him he would enter paradise that very day.

That being the case, for a Christian to state without a doubt that they will see God's face in Heaven when he/she dies is not assuming to know God's mind. It's taking him at his word. Isn't that the very definition of faith?

I shudder to think that my devotion to God and laying my sins at Jesus' feet is all for naught. Where is the hope in not being assured I will enter God's Kingdom no matter where my heart is, what I say or what I do? I could be wrong, but the way my mom explained salvation (or lack thereof) makes God seem almost capricious and he is anything but. He's a God who always keeps his promises, and he promised that whoever believes in him should not parish, but have everlasting life.
 

What am I doing? Wracking my brain for an idea for Nanowrimo. Do I want to write fantasy? Another science fiction based on an existing character? An alternate reality? Try my hand at suspense or even -- gulp -- historical?

Maybe I'll simply use the writing.com story app and see what it gives me.

I know what I really need to do: Stop worrying. The more I fret over whether or not I can come up with a story, the less likely I'll come up with one.

After all, my first novel began with a single word: Redemption.

My second was based on a simple theme: the importance of duty.

Oh! I know! You can help me. Give me a word or theme, and I'll write a book based on it. Sorry, no prizes. On second thought, if I succeed I'll send you a copy of the finished book. Eiither electronic or hardcopy I haven't decided yet (after all the idea is less than a minute old). Sound like a deal?
 

Spam. We all get it, and it seems blogs are the target of choice. Spammers know that most internet traffic goes to blogs, so it's only reasonable that's where they go. Luckily many blog hosting sites have tools available to keep spam from building up, either in our email boxes or as comments.

My WordPress blog actually puts all the spam in a folder which I have to clean out every once in a while. The last time I logged in was three days ago, and I just removed 128 spam comments.

Should I take that as a compliment? Do they plant their little poops for my readers to step through, because they think their chances are good someone will go to their sites? My ego would like to think so. My more logical brain center puts things in a different perspective:

Spammers send out little bot programs to plant spam comments. They sneak around the internet 24/7 and when they find a blog without CAPTCHAs, they leave their little presents. It's nothing personal, and it certainly isn't because I'm popular. I'm just easy to reach.

So much for success *rolls eyes*.

There ain't nothing more profound to add to this entry (I know bad grammar, but it's my blog and I can do what I want. So there). I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. I just felt like writing, and this is what I came up with.

Oh! I do want to add that four interviews I did with Ashford Radio are now available for your listening pleasure (as my ego giggles and my logic center scoffs) on my website at http://www.almarquardt.com/interviews . All but the first one focus on writing. I'm doing another on Saturday at 9am CDT if you want to listen in ( http://www.ashfordradio.com ). It'll center on writing again, with some discussion on copyrights. I believe they will also give out a phone number you can call if you want to talk to me live.
 

Nada commented on my earlier “It’s Time” entry:

Faith is in your heart and soul, you don’t have to shout it out loud for it to be known. As long as I have known you it has been a struggle for you at times, but each time you come through. I remember when you wanted a baby so badly…and now you have Thomas. Seriously the good deeds you do in your life speak volumes about how your faith is evident. Don’t worry.

Profound thought with much truth. It also made me think about what faith is. How is faith defined?

Turning to my Bible’s concordance, I found passages such as “. . .faith even as small as a mustard seed . . .”, “. . . Daughter, your faith has made you . . .”, and “. . . hold up the shield of faith . . .”

Faith is an act, that much is certain. Without acting with that faith, miracles cannot happen. We cannot hear God’s voice, and without it we soon despair that God is even there, let alone hears us.

Okay. How does one gain faith? What actions are required to gain a mustard seed’s worth of faith?

Included in my concordance is a “See also”. One of them was the word trust.

Ah. Now things are getting a little clearer.

Let’s bring things a little down to earth, and look at some things we put our trust into. We trust that the sun will rise in the morning. Nah. Too abstract. For most of us, we trust our spouse that he/she will not stray, and will comfort or protect us when we need.

How is that trust gained?

Through building a relationship.

Trust and faith in God comes through building a relationship with him similar to that as with our spouse. There is a saying I’ve heard multiple times: “If God seems far away, guess who moved.”

When I struggle with my faith, it’s usually because I allowed my relationship with God stagnate. I become complacent in my life, and no longer talk to him and give him even an hour’s worth of my time. It’s not about going to church (although it helps) or reading the Bible (although it helps). Those are outward consequences of my desire to actively seek God’s company.

The more I give him my undivided attention, the more my faith grows from barely the size of a hydrogen atom to the size of a mustard seed. I can’t expect my relationship with my husband to remain strong if I don’t talk to him about the things that matter, and the things that don’t, or even share moments of silence where holding hands is more than enough. Nor can I expect my relationship with God to grow if I don’t spend time nurturing it.

Thankfully God is everlasting and unchanging. I always know where to find him — since he didn’t move — and I know he will always welcome me back home. All I need to remember is to always treasure that about him, and not take it for granted.
 

I know I promised to talk about faith in my next entry, but right now I have no motivation to do much of anything but sit in front of the air conditioner.

However, I did want to point you to the second interview with Ashford Radio I did on Saturday. You can find it at http://www.ashfordradio.com. Click on the second microphone (Studio B) and scroll down to the On Demand Episodes.

This time I talked about my books, why I wrote them and writing in general. I tell you, those 30 minutes really flew by. I did stumble a bit at the beginning, but I again think I did well.

I'll be doing three others, each on Saturday morning at 9am Central. I will continue to point you to the archives when they're out if you miss the live feed.

Later and Happy Sunday. Stay cool.
 

First of, to listen to the show I did on Saturday, go to http://www.ashfordradio.com . From there click on the first microphone that says “Radio Studio A”. From there scroll down until you see my name. Click on that and the show will start playing.

Overall, I think it went well. I didn’t stutter too much. At least I don’t think I did. Just over halfway through, they accidentally cut me off and had to call me back. It was a good experience, and I wasn’t as nervous as I anticipated. Many a prayer was whispered as I waited for the show to start, let me tell ya.

Turns out I needn’t have worried about whether or not I would be more open about my faith during the interview. The subject never came up as the interviewer focused on my job and what Land Surveying entails. My biggest concern was that I described what land surveying is without talking over people’s heads. As with any technical occupation, there is a tendency to techno-speak. I tried to stay away from it, but I’m not willing to listen to the interview and find out. I never did like the sound of my voice (although I’ve never heard anyone else complain about it). I prefer blissful ignorance and believe I did okay. Why listen to the show and discover I sucked? Yeah, when it comes to this, I prefer delusion.

Since I received such good feedback so far, I’m doing another four half-hour interviews over the next four Saturdays staring at 9am Central time. These will focus more on my writing and photography. A perfect venue to talk about my faith since it’s such an integral part of my writing. As with the first one, it will be archived. I’ll provide a link should you miss it.

But it’s hot, I have a cold (when I just got over one two weeks ago), and I’m tired.

I think my next entry (should I have more mental energy) will be about the definition of faith, and why it can be such a struggle at times.

Later!
 

When I started writing my first book, I couldn't wait for it to be published. I wanted to see my name in print right now! That was ten years ago. Sure my name has seen print with three short stories, as many articles and a self-published novella, but my novel is still in limbo. I'm not concerned about it. In these last ten years, God has taught me patience.

But it is patience I've finally gained, or is it complacency? A bit of both?

I haven't written much of anything since my last entry in March. Four months! Hard to believe. Where did the time go? Admittedly I wasted a lot of it catching up on favorite tv shows and movies (Netflix and Hulu can be quite addicting).

Over the last few weeks, my fingers have been itching to write. But write what? Sure I submitted two articles to AUGIWorld, but each one took less than four hours to write.

Two of my books need serious edits, and I'm about a fifth the way through the first. Not something to brag about, because I've been working on that since January. I'd also like to rewrite "Traitors," or at least the first three chapters. I went through the comments for the Genesis Contest last year, and realized the first part needed work.

My first draft started with an assassin right before she entered the house to kill her victim. I had since changed it beginning with the assassination itself while in the mind of the victim.

Based on the comments, I decided the story would be better the way I had it originally. Funny, that. My instincts were right to begin with. It's a good thing I keep all my major drafts, both on computer and hard copy.

I also need to come out of the shadows a bit. I've been in hiding, mostly because I've let my faith stagnate some. Okay, a lot. I haven't gone to church since January, and I've barely picked up my Bible since then. My only communion with God in any capacity is when I say bedtime prayers with my son.

A few weeks ago, I received a phone call from Ashford Radio. They wanted to do a half-hour radio interview of me. I was ambivalent at first, but finally agreed. Partly it was due to cost. They wanted $2000. Not happening. After saying no about three times, they took away features such as a plaque and travel vouchers, and lowered the price to $500.

I figured if I want to come out of my shell,and start promoting myself more, a half-hour interview live-streamed on the Internet would be the boost I need. Even if I do have to pay for it.

They called me this afternoon for a pre-interview, and one of the questions they asked was, "Who was your biggest influence on your life?"

On the tip of my tongue was, "Jesus," but I instead said, "Mostly my parents."

That's when I realized just how far I let my relationship with Jesus falter. Didn't he say, "those who acknowledge me to others, I will acknowledge in heaven, and those who deny me, I will deny in heaven?" (Paraphrased because I'm too lazy to get off my bum and look it up). If I were to split hairs, I could say I didn't deny him outright, but I sure didn't acknowledge him either.

Luckily I have another opportunity during the actual interview to say what I wanted -- and needed -- to say. Hopefully I won't chicken out then.

I also focused more on my actual job as a land surveyor and less on my writing during the pre-interview. Mostly because writing has taken a back seat to other priorities. But, we'll see what happens during the actual interview. I may just have to sit down with God for an hour or two beforehand and discuss with him what I should say. He's never let me down, even when I've let him down so many times. God's kinda great that way.

You can listen to the interview on http://www.ashfordradio.com, on Saturday, 7/23/2011 at 12pm EST. You can also read the press release:

http://www.prlog.org/11594676-ashford-radio-is-pleased-to-announce-andra-marquar...
 

In my last entry, I described how well my dad was doing, and for about two weeks, he was.

But then he went in to see the doctor and they discovered the cancer had picked up speed. The chemo was no longer making any difference. They gave him another chemo option, but warned him that even though it might give him a few more weeks, it would also make him very sick.

He decided to forego it, and – to use a bad cliche – let nature take it's course.

We had planned on going down for Easter, but the hospice nurse called Dave this afternoon to tell him we might want to visit him sooner. Not because he's that close to death so much, but because he's beginning to get confused. Tom will be more aware that we're there and be better able to interact with us now versus later.

But I am not ready.

I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I'm not ready to watch my dad fade away.

I'm not ready to prepare for and go to his funeral.

I'm not ready to go through his stuff and parcel it out according to his will.

I'm not ready to watch his loved ones grieve.

I'm not prepared to grieve myself.

I'm not ready to explain to my son why he'll never again see his grandfather.

I'm not ready to accept my dad will not watch my son grow up.

But ready or not, all these things must happen. I cannot avoid it, or run away screaming – as much as I want to right now.

God, give me the strength to do all those things, because I can't do it on my own.
 

In my previous entry partyof5 said, " . . . I can also tell you there are a lot of positives that come out of such a thing" with regards to my dad.

At first glance it can be hard to find anything positive to note about a loved one dying of cancer. Heck, it takes more than two. Sometimes one must have a microscope to find even a dust-sized one.

But first, a little more back story:

Four years ago, my mom decided she couldn't spend one more moment in Colorado -- for many reasons which I will not get into here. She neither consulted Tom, nor gave him any warning that she had purchased property and a house up near Dave and I. The reason she gave at the time was to be closer to Dave and I when we finally had the baby we were working toward.

Tom came up with her, but decided he couldn't live here. Being forced did not help any. He tried spending a few months here, a few months in Colorado for about a year, but it didn't work.

They divorced about two years ago now.

Seeing how happy and content my mom is (something I've never seen in my lifetime), I figured it was something God wanted.

Yet, I wondered about Tom. About this time depression hit him hard. He'd come up to visit us and his grandson, and spent much of our conversations in tears. It was strange and a little frightening to see him break down like that.

I prayed to God multiple times, "I know you meant for my mom to be here, but what about taking care of Tom? You aren't going to leave him behind, are you?"

God often assured me that he wouldn't.

How he would accomplish it hit us all broadside.

He allowed the cancer.

I won't say God caused it, but he allowed it. Why? Why bring such suffering to a man who many would say didn't deserve it (myself included)?

Because God knows what it takes to force us to our knees and turn to him.

My dad has been successfully self-reliant for as long as I've known him. Some would say he's even lived a charmed life. Never once has he needed (from his perspective) to lean on anyone.

Cancer takes all of that away. It's something that too often can't be fixed, least of all the person who has it. Tom is now forced to lean on his doctors and his family. He sees that his days are few, and for the first time asked, "What happens afterward?"

He started to ask spiritual questions: Is there a God? Does he love me? Can he love me?

God has graciously shown me a few parts of his plan for Tom. The cancer is but one of them.

To help Tom's spiritual growth, God used a cheap computer Dave and I bought Tom. Through it, Tom signed up at Match.com and found a lovely woman named Nancy. She's a nurse who counsels families on "end-of-life" issues (coincidence? Me thinketh not), but best of all, she's a Christian who longs to see Tom turn to Christ.

She's one blessing to show how God will always give us someone or something to turn to in difficult times. He knows we can't go it alone.

As the cancer progresses, so does Tom's spiritual journey. He goes to church as often as he can, prays with others, studies a paraphrased Bible, and devours every devotional Nancy gives him.

God has answered my prayer that he won't leave Tom behind. He's using the cancer to both accomplish that, and to show the rest of us what he can do. So even if in the end Tom's body succumbs to the disease, he's saved my dad's soul.

But there's more!

When we went to visit him at the end of February, we arrived at our hotel early afternoon. As I was picking up more stuff from the car, I spotted my sister and her husband walking toward me. What I didn't expect to see was an older man following them.

It took me a moment to realize it was Tom walking on his own with no cane and no oxygen. The thrill that came over me is indescribable.

Two weeks ago, they gave him a PET scan to see if the chemo is working. The scan showed no growth of the tumors, and even some shrinkage. His lungs are clear of any clots, and he can now drive on his own, walk his dogs, and even go without oxygen for an hour or two.

His biggest day-to-day hurtle is eating. An unfortunate side effect of pancreatic cancer is food tastes terrible. Tom describes it as "licking a dirty carpet." Most foods smell and even look good to him, but after one bite the taste makes him want to puke. In essence, with pancreatic cancer a person starves to death. Since he's been diagnosed, he's lost about 35 pounds. That's nearly 10 pounds a month.

Still, to see his quality of life go up, his attitude improving, and his spiritual health growing even more, I can only express joy and gratitude to the God who's orchestrating it all.
 

In fact, I despise sympathy. Oh, I can give it well enough, but accepting it from others makes my skin crawl.

I discovered this only a few weeks ago, and it took me a while to figure out why.

But first, a little back-story to give it proper context.

The day after Christmas we receive a phone call from my dad. He was in the hospital because of spots on his lungs that turned out to be pulmonary embolisms: blood clots. They put him on blood thinners which they hoped would take care of them, but after a few more tests, they found a malignant tumor on his pancreas. Inoperable. He was given a year to live at most.

His biggest concern was not being able to continue to watch over his daughters and see his grandson grow up. My anger – and grief -- over the entire situation dealt with losing the one person I believed would live until his 90s, easy, and also my son growing up not knowing his grandfather.

I'm still a bit angry about that, but it is what it is. All any of us can do is live today, because none of us is guaranteed tomorrow.

Tom – my dad – expressed during that conversation that he would not ever again see his grandson. I told him we would go see him as often as we could. Since then we've gone to see him twice.

The first trip was rough, because he spent three of those five days in the hospital. He also lost quite a bit of weight and seemed to have aged ten years. To see such a vibrant man fade so quickly was almost unreal.

When he came home, he could barely walk on his own, was on oxygen full-time, and could barely stay awake.

Two days after we returned home, they discovered his liver wasn't functioning. They returned him to the hospital for surgery to remove what they thought was a tumor or nodule blocking blood flow into the liver.

It wasn't blocked. Turns out his liver wasn't functioning because it's riddled with tumors. They closed him up and as they were bringing him out of the anaesthesia, he suddenly couldn't breath. They put him under again, and removed a blood clot from his lungs. For safety, they put him in a coma for 24 hours.

Was he pissed when they brought him out and he had lost an entire day! Understandable. Here his days are already numbered, and the doctors took away one.

If they hadn't, or the clot was thrown when he was at home or driving down the street, he would have died.

When we returned from that trip, I called my mom to let her know what was going on. She asked me how I was doing with all this.

I responded with, "I'm fine." Which I was, honestly. I deal with big stuff like this in an odd way. I close off my emotions and deal with what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Besides, he's not dead yet. It makes me appear cold at times, and I can't help but wonder if I am that cold.

Truth is, it's a defense mechanism. I don't like to appear weak or overly-emotional to other people. Intellectually, I know it's not weakness to cry, especially over a loved one who's suffering from a terminal illness. But it's now an automatic reaction I've cultivated since my teenage years.

Hence my anger at my mom when she asked how I was doing. It's also not about me. I'm not the one who's dying. Save the sympathy for him. I'll deal with grief when we bury him – or in this case, spread his ashes.

Until then, I want him to live as best as he can with the time he has left.

We returned from a second trip last weekend, and I was shocked to see him arrive at our motel with my sister and her husband. He not only walked without a cane or walker, but he didn't need oxygen.

He's taking chemotherapy which will give him maybe an extra month, but from what the doctor's saying, it'll be quality time gained.

Seeing him like that showed me it's indeed working.

One of the biggest problems we're facing at the moment is convincing him he has to eat. One of the symptoms of his cancer is food tastes terrible. He describes it as licking the carpet.

The other symptom is depression. Talk about a two-fer. His attitude is key in increasing the quality of his days. But with the depression, he can't see all the positive strides he's made, and count his many blessings, however small they may be.

Which is why we'll be going back sometime in March. Seeing his children and his only grandchild I know is a huge boon to his attitude.

I will likely write about this more here. There are times I need to vent. This blog is perfect because there are no family members who know of it. But don't worry, it won't be all dark and dismal thoughts.

So no sympathy here, unless it's to pray for my dad. Save the sympathy until the day he dies.

I want to concentrate on living.