The Inside Scoop

Tag: books

  • Committed. Devoted. All in. That’s who she is.

    Our wedding day, August 13, 1977, at Redeemer Covenant Church in Orangevale, California.

    I, take you, Vicki/Rick, to be my wedded wife/husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.

    We recited those vows 49 years ago today, on a sweltering, late-summer California evening in a small church a few miles east of Sacramento. The “sickness and health” portion of those vows seemed so foreign at the time. We were young, vibrant and carefree.

    Decades later, those words hit home. In February, I was diagnosed with kidney cancer. While the surgery in May was a success – no cancer was found in nearby organs or in the margins – complications ensued. I had an infection, followed by several weeks of procedures designed to speed up the healing process in my leaking, surgically-repaired right kidney. It was hard. It was often painful. It was tiresome.

    Vicki wearing “protective gear” during my second hospitalization for an infection at University of Washington Medical Center. The day before my release, the infectious disease team at UW got involved in my care, saying I had tested positive for “MRSA.” That meant anyone who entered my room, including nurses, had to don protective clothing. My surgeon would later confide that this was an overreaction.

    But the girl I married never wavered. If you know anything about Vicki, once she commits to something, she’s “all in,” whether that’s to a task, her daughters, her grandchildren, or her husband. That meant long days at the UW Hospital when I was admitted there. That meant multiple trips with me to the hospital for tests and follow-up procedures. That meant changing bandages at two different drain sites on a daily basis. That meant missing out on social events because she’d rather be at my side. Thankfully, I’ve come out the other side of this ordeal.

    Of course, I was not surprised that Vicki would respond this way. I’ve known her devotion, her unwavering commitment and her tenacity for a very long time. It’s who she is.

    I met Vicki in 1975. We were students at North Park College in Chicago. I was in charge of a school Valentine’s Day dance. I needed a date. Vicki and I had worked in the school cafeteria together, so we knew each other. I asked her to the dance. She said “yes.” We had a good time.

    A couple weeks later was “Turnabout” on campus. “Turnabout,” at least back in the ’70s, was when normal social roles were flipped, and girls asked the guys out. Vicki took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant in downtown Chicago. We started dating.

    I have to admit I was a little surprised by these developments. Vicki was absolutely gorgeous. She could have dated anyone she wanted on campus. I believe I had “outkicked my coverage.” (For those of you who have never heard that term, google it). As it turned out, the affection was mutual. It was obvious early on that there was immediately “chemistry” between us, i.e. a physical attraction.

    Vicki and I met at North Park College in Chicago.

    I was a sophomore. She was a freshman.The problem was, I wouldn’t be returning to North Park for my junior year. I had already made up my mind I was transferring to Western Washington University. To be honest, when she returned to California and I to Washington at the end of the ’74-’75 school year, I thought that was the end of the relationship. Boy was I wrong. She kept it alive, inviting me to Sacramento that summer to meet her family.

    During that year of separation – she in Chicago, me in Mount Vernon – I learned a lot about Vicki. She was also beautiful on the inside. She was loyal. She was committed. Our relationship during that year actually grew deeper. During the few occasions we got together, we learned we shared the same values.

    We both wanted to become people molded in the likeness of Jesus. We both wanted to use our gifts, not for ourselves, but to serve others and the “Body of Christ,” i.e. the Church, and bring glory to His name. We shared a Puritan work ethic that had been instilled in us by our parents, a cultural and spiritual belief that hard work, frugality and discipline are core moral duties. As husband and wife, we wanted to be a “team,” where we shared daily responsibilities and made major life and financial decisions together with mutual respect. We would learn later that we were different in many ways, but that each of us had strengths and weaknesses that complimented each other. I married a sinner. She married a bigger one. Each of us were “works in progress.” We gave each other grace.

    We’re much older now, though Vicki still has her blonde hair!

    Extra grace was required these past six months. But the girl I fell in love with so many years ago never blinked. Always committed. Always a steadfast partner through all of life’s changes.

    Here’s to Year 50, my love. It’s going to be a good one.

  • Hope in the midst of fear

    The Covenant Church put together this book of devotional writings from Dick Lucco after the former Covenant pastor died from prostate cancer in 2022.

    I’ve had a lot of time on my hands while recovering from kidney cancer surgery. Vicki and I have watched a lot of World Cup soccer – too many, to be quite honest, because I’m not really a big soccer fan – and a wide assortment of Netflix movies. It’s also been an opportunity to catch up on some reading.

    My favorite book has been “The Cardinal Sings for Me.” It’s a collection of devotionals by Dick Lucco, a longtime pastor and conference superintendent in the Covenant Church. The devotionals were written from March 2020 through May 2021 for the congregation he was serving, Northwest Covenant in Mount Prospect, Illinois, during the height of the COVID-19 global pandemic.

    While some of the devotionals were written to help his congregation deal with the confinements of the pandemic, many of his writings were deeply personal. Dick was simultaneously dealing with the ups and downs of his own battle with prostate cancer, which he eventually succumbed to. He passed away on May 17, 2022, just one day shy of his 71st birthday.

    His writings are humorous and sad, touching and deeply spiritual. He often makes light of his cancer treatment. But he’s also brutally honest about his “bad days,” writing in one devotional, “there are days – and this is one of them for me – when I can’t seem to get out of a ditch of discouragement and despair.” But it’s in those dark moments, however, that Dick says God changes his attitude to a spirit of gratitude.

    That’s where the title of the book comes in. Dick was fascinated with the cardinal. The striking, vivid red of the male cardinal, though never mentioned in the Bible, is widely seen as a symbol of hope and God’s presence. In his book, Dick quotes Emily Dickinson: “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.” Dick writes in his book there “were and are times when I desperately need hope to perch in my soul.”

    I suspect that during the lockdown of the pandemic Dick spent many days staring out the window at this beautiful bird that is plentiful in the midwest. While other birds fly south for the winter – and you could say when our health and other life challenges head south – the devoted cardinal remains rooted in the dark, gray days of the midwest winter. It’s also probably no coincidence that in the Catholic Church a cardinal is a high-ranking bishop or priest.

    Dick carried a miniature cardinal in his pocket and collected cardinal trinkets. It should also be noted the native of St. Louis was a big fan of the major-league baseball Cardinals. He was known to proudly wear a Cardinals baseball cap while living many years in the Chicago area, a staunch Cubs town.

    I resonate with Dick’s writings. Although I am currently cleared of cancer, I too have had many fear-filled nights when my arduous and painful road to recovery from Kidney cancer surgery has seemed hopeless. It is in those moments, however, when I cry out to God, that He gives me just enough hope and peace to fall back asleep.

    Perhaps I’ll one day write a book about my experience with kidney cancer. Anyone who knows me well is aware I’m a loyal, longtime fan of University of Washington athletics. In the Bible, the color purple represents royal, majesty and divine authority. The Siberian Husky is a magnificent animal.

    Not to make light of Dick’s writings, but perhaps mine will be called “The Husky Barks for Me.”