"Well, it's great! We're actually getting to travel quite a bit. You'd be surprised at how daily trips to the cancer center in downtown Houston rack up the miles. We eat out a lot, too. The hospital has nice cafeterias, and I occasionally sample the liver and onions at Luby's. And the people we meet in the waiting rooms are always friendly and helpful."

Retirement hasn't exactly matched our expectations.

Four years ago, circumstances fell like dominos with too many simultaneously changes. Retirement after 32 years with one employer. Selling our home of 20-plus years. Our son's move away from home. My dad's declining health and relocation across the street.

In a note to Charleen Dillard of Van Buren a couple of weeks ago, Mary described our current situation:

"We were in Houston for five weeks and have now been back for two. The friends who lived in our home while we were gone left it immaculate. That was the last time! We're trying to put it back in that shape before they come back Monday when we leave for Houston again.

"I've been consumed with making an embellished scrapbook for Brandi, our future daughter-in-law. I've been buying hats to cover my bald head. That's like buying dresses, trying to match up outfits. I've been hunting graduation gifts. I've gone to a shower—that's where I read the scrapbook. I've been working for Senator Gilbert Baker a few hours a day. Oh, and I've been looking for wedding gifts as several of Barrett's friends are marrying.

"So...while I've been gallivanting, James has been fighting the paperwork for the cancer center, tending to the dressing on my chemo port and flushing it daily, etc. He also treats the infected wound over Sosipater's right eye three times daily and tries to finagle medicine down him.

"We've been helping Brandi and Barrett with their guest list. This is not fun. And I go every other day for blood work which usually involves a lot of waiting. "

Even though we're now home for six weeks before another trip to Houston, other issues cry for attention. The approaching wedding. Getting into a routine with our new doctor here. Putting the house back in order—one more time. Dealing with the backlash of "chemo brain" we were warned about.

Then just yesterday Mary expressed the oddest thought to me. "Four years ago I was able to exercise every day. You were finally retired, and we were in a new house. Life seemed impossibly hard; if only I had trusted God more than I do now. Those were 'the good old days,' and I almost wish we could go back."

We even muse about those long weeks in Houston as "the good old days."

But today has its own pleasures. Spending time with friends who have graciously reached out to encourage us. Communicating with others engaged in their own private battles. Pondering the good that God has stored up for us in the future.

Time facilitates a gradual, mysterious wonder in transforming today's difficulty into tomorrow's fond remembrance. "This is the day that the Lord has made," admonishes the Bible. "Rejoice and be glad in it."