The Serenity Prayer in Action

Serenity Prayer

I will likely be posting a little less than normal, even for me. To cut to the chase, I am currently in the middle of battling Acute Myeloid Leukemia, which is essentially bone marrow cancer.

So far the plan of treatment I am in seems to be working well, and I should know soon what the next steps are. I’ve been in the leukemia center at Northside Hospital in Atlanta for the last 2 weeks. I’ve completed the first round of chemotherapy, and I am tolerating it well.

What I really want to convey today, is the reality of God’s power and His love, as evidenced by events over the last 4 months or so.  I discovered I had this disease thanks to two bad sinus infections, and a family doctor who refused to take those on face value. There is obviously more to it than that, but that sums it up. I will try to explain it all at a future date.

I could have gotten angry, or done nothing, or panicked. Rather than do any of that, I chose to live this wonderful prayer.

God has granted me:

Serenity to accept the things I cannot change. I have leukemia; I don’t know how I got it, but I have it.

Courage to change the things I can. The medical team has a plan to beat it. I am in, doing what they tell me when they tell me, plus some.

Wisdom to know the difference. I can’t really explain this part. But it’s there. God is there. And His love and the love of my family and friends sustain me.


To avoid duplicate effort I am posting a lot on my Facebook page. Please join me there. For now, I welcome your prayers.




Turns Out Borepatch Does Not Bounce High

Kudos to Miguel at Gun Free Zone for the title, I could not think of a better one.

Our friend and fellow blogger Borepatch was on a motorcycle trip to Florida and met up with bad roadway, and broke some bones.

You can read an update on his condition here.

I wish  him all the best, and I have corresponded with him and told him so. My prayers are with him.


I write this here, not to chastise anyone, but to share . . .

I am reminded of the weekend before I turned 16. My father, a consulting forensic engineer, took me to a junk yard and showed me some vehicles. Two had been driven and crashed by drunk drivers. One of them had a broken windshield and blood on the hood.

On the hood.

The driver had been the sole occupant, and had not survived.

He also showed me two motorcycles. One was still wrapped up in the front end of a pickup truck. The other was just mangled, and the rider had merely laid it down on a clear road, because of a gust of wind.

Neither rider had survived.

The trip worked. The lessons were clear: drinking and driving will get you killed, and motorcycles against anything, lose. I have never driven after drinking, and I have never ridden a motorcycle.

Shooter’s Prayer

I saw today that David over at Musings Over a Pint has taken the last sentence to my post whining about my weekend, added as an afterthought, wherein I speculate that life may be just one big shooting stage problem solving exercise, and turned it into a prayer:

When I breathe my last, and open my eyes in Glory, may the first thing I hear be “Unload and show clear.” Amen.

Very nice. Thank you, David. I’ve already printed this on nice parchment and framed it and hung it in my den, and over my workbench at home. And thanks to Mrs. Hands for her stockpiling of picture frames against the coming zombie photo-apocalypse.

On his same post, he links to a story about St. Gabriel Possenti, who some are promoting to be named the Patron Saint of Handgunners. Take a moment to read his story. I don’t think things like this “just happen.”