The Other Side

Several years ago, in fact in April 2007, I was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal cancer. (You can find several posts on this site related to this journey of illness, treatment, and recovery). I recall that there were hundreds (maybe thousands), of people praying for my recovery. I received communications, usually emails from unknown individuals with promises of prayer and support. During 2007 and much of 2008, the prospect of a long healthy life was a distant, and not certain, expectation. The difficult experience of radiation treatments and chemotherapy sapped my body of its energy and vitality. I had lost about 45 pounds from a top weight of 169. At about 5 ft. 6 inches tall I was reduced to my teenage weight.

There were not many hopeful people. During the episodes of excruciating pain while attempting to swallow, and the loss of appetite during chemotherapy, I often wondered whether I would soon leave a widow and orphans.

Today, I experience good health with an active lifestyle, biking, jogging, and occasionally hiking.

About one year following my diagnosis, and while the light at the end of the tunnel of recovery beamed in the distance, I received a call from a dear friend, a young mentee, who informed me that she was diagnosed with liver cancer. Cheryl was young, late 30's, recently married and a devoted Christian. I first met Cheryl while I was a PhD student at Indiana State University. A teenage freshman from Chicago, I picked her up every Saturday morning to attend church and she usually spent the day at our home - having lunch and bonding with our young children, whom she adored. After her graduation, she returned to Chicago but we remained in touch, always asking about our children, and once coming to Orlando to visit after I had competed school and moved south. In spite of numerous chemo treatments, natural remedies, and the ardent prayers by her church, her family and friends, within a few months Cheryl passed away. Why?

Several weeks later, I sat in church and witnessed a testimony of praise from someone who claimed that her prayers were answered as she expressed her joy of recovery from illness. A few years after I listened to the pastor's wife tell the church how God had answered the prayers of her family as He had intervened in the miraculous healing of her son and later her own healing from cancer. and I could only think of Cheryl and the many other Cheryls I know whose survival was not honored, whose prayers were not answered.

How do parents and friends feel when they listen to those who claim that God answered their prayers, but whose hopes were dashed as their pleadings were not heard? The infant tormented by cancer who finally passes away? The wife who prays for God's intervention into the life and wellbeing of her husband who is then brutally killed on the job by a mass murder?

Their cry: "I prayed and he did not answer my prayer!"

How do we understand prayer? Is it about God or is it about us?

Does God pick and choose the ones he wants to answer?

Do we need to pray? Won't God just do his thing anyway?

So many questions!

Please share your thoughts!

Time for all things

(Written in 2020 but remained in the draft folder until today - December 4, 2025. After writing this post I unretired in 2022 to accept a request by the President of the University of the Southern Caribbean, Dr Colwick Wilson to be the Interim Provost at the USC. The interim title was soon changed and I agreed to stay on as the Provost for the next 4 years.)

There is a time for everything, and for me, it is a time to retire after 45 years as a graduate student teaching undergraduate students or as a full time college teacher. I have been blessed to have mentored thousands of students students in the basic and life sciences - chemistry, biology, human anatomy, and human physiology.. Here, I share an article published by the marketing and public relations department in my honor.

My journey started as a teenage high school instructor at Harmon High School in my island home of Tobago, Trinidad and Tobago. After leaving sixth form at Bishop’s High School I taught at Harmon High School, a Seventh-day Adventist high school, for two years before entering the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, Trinidad. I completed a BSc. in Botany/Applied Botany before spending another three years teaching, first at Southern Academy, an SDA high school in San Fernando, Trinidad, before joining the faculty at Caribbean Union College (now University of the Southern Caribbean).
As a teenager, I had developed an intense love of music and participated in numerous musical events. Born with extraordinary vocal talent, I became a member of an elite choral group, Music Amateurs, and a vocal quartet, the Archer Quartet. My desire migrate to the United States was strongly influenced by my desire to further my education but forged by my desire to join the other members of the quartet who had one year earlier began their graduate degree programs at Andrews University, Berrien Springs, Michigan. After graduating from Andrews University in 1983, I was awarded a graduate fellowship to complete a PhD program in microbiology at Indiana State University. After spending almost 30 years at AdventHealth University, I retired as the Vice-President for Academic Administration and Academic Dean of Undergraduate Programs.

  
https://www.southerntidings.com/news/academic-dean-len-archer-retires/#

Trusting God

 

(PC-2025-03-12)

Scripture: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” — Proverbs 3:5–6 KJV

The Common English Bible translates it this way: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; don’t rely on your own intelligence. Know him in all your paths, and he will keep your ways straight.”

Trust is one of the most challenging yet beautiful aspects of our walk with God. We often say that we trust God. But it is usually demonstrated in the areas where we feel comfortable—but true trust goes deeper. It asks us to surrender even the parts of life we cannot control, the questions we cannot answer, and the outcomes we cannot predict.

When Proverbs tells us not to “lean on our own understanding,” it is not saying don’t use your brain, it is reminding us that our perspective is limited. We see only a moment, but God sees the whole picture. We see what is immediate and transient, but God sees what is eternal. Trust means letting God be God—allowing Him to guide, even when His direction doesn’t yet make sense. Its a mindset.

Consider a child learning to walk. They reach out for a parent’s hands, believing—even without understanding—that those hands are strong enough to hold them. And if they let go of your hand and stumble, they quickly reach out to grab yours.  In the same way, God extends His hand to us each day. He asks us not simply to believe that He exists, but to rely on Him, confident that His wisdom is greater, His timing is perfect, and His love is unfailing.

I’m sure each of you have had moments when you had to just give up on your own self belief and trust someone, something beyond what you could immediately comprehend. 

And then, you just let go and trust! Trust in God because there is no one you could trust!

Many years ago when my children, Lilly and Nick, were probably just about 6 to 9 years old, we sent them to a kids summer camp. The camp, Camp Timber Ridge located in central Indiana, was surrounded by numerous little caves barely wide enough to fit a small human. On the last weekend of the camp, my wife and a few parents from our little church in Terre Haute, Indiana, went to visit the kids on Sabbath afternoon. Nick and the other kids were winding their way through caves emerging several yards beyond. “Dad!” he said! “Come go through the cave with me!” I viewed the small entrance and said, “No, son! That space is much too small for me!” “No, Dad. I've been through it many times and you can do it!” He grabbed my hand and I followed him to the mouth of the cave with extreme anxiety but finally decided to give it a try. “Hold my hand and I’ll lead you!” he said. Reluctantly, I did. As he entered the mouth of the cave, the space narrowed with barely enough space for my narrow shoulders to pass through.  And as he winded his way, the cave became narrower and pitch black, and I became extremely fearful that I just couldn't do it or I might get stuck. “Just hold my hand, Dad! Don’t let go!”  I held his hand tightly. Light finally appeared as we thankfully emerged from the darkness.

Those words, “Just hold my hand!” 

We live in an age or time when it seems like there is failing trust of our institutions, our governments and the people who lead, and even our churches and church leaders! To some degree we must still maintain some level of trust to exist in society—trust in our leaders, our colleagues, our family, our friends if we are to survive this earthly journey. We can deeply trust only as they follow the will of God.

But we can place our ultimate trust in the God who has promised to direct our paths. 

Prayer:

“Lord, teach us to trust You with all our hearts. Help us to release our fears, our plans, and our desire for control. Give us the courage to follow wherever You lead and the peace to rest in Your promises. Direct our paths today, and help us to walk in faith, knowing that You are always faithful. Amen.

A Legacy of Service

   On Wednesday, December 4, 2019, I had the distinct privilege of attending a special event in Walla Walla, Washington. It was the 137^th Walla Walla Valley Chamber of Commerce Annual Awards Banquet, an annual event that honors the best of the Walla Walla community - Higher Education Community Service Awards, Ambassador and Merit Awards, and Hometown Hero Awards (Educator of the Year, Firefighter of the Year, Law Enforcement Officer of the Year). Each recipient was presented by a community leader and then gave an acceptance speech after receiving the award. 

   
   I was invited to the event by my brother, Dr. Austin C. Archer, who received the Walla Walla University Community Service award for his service during his 28-year tenure as a faculty member at WWU  Supported by his wife, Beverly, Austin has been a highly respected leader at the university, his local church and the Walla Walla community. In his acceptance speech, Austin used the opportunity to honor our Dad, whose example of frugality, generosity, and service laid the foundation for the academic and personal successes of his children.

    
   In this blog, I share the words of the President of Walla Walla University, Dr. John McVay, who presented Austin, and Austin’s acceptance speech.

Introduction of AUSTIN ARCHER

Chamber of Commerce Community Service Awards Banquet

December 4, 2019

   We at Walla Walla University continue to treasure the positive ecosystem for higher education in our Walla Walla Valley.  Walla Walla University would not have come to be without the generous support of citizens of the Valley, including Dr. Nelson Blalock who contributed 40 acres of land for the construction of the campus.  However, it requires more than land and buildings to shape a campus. It requires missional infrastructure as well. 

  This evening gives us opportunity to celebrate one of the large, strong beams in WWU’s mission, the core theme of generosity in service.  It is a privilege to affirm that core theme by identifying someone who personifies how WWU seeks to give back to its community.

   The recipient of this year’s Walla Walla University Community Service Award is Dr. Austin Archer.

Dr. Archer and his family arrived in the Walla Walla Valley some 28 years ago in 1991 when Austin joined the faculty of the Walla Walla University School of Education and Psychology, where he has been teaching ever since.  In addition to that primary teaching assignment, he has served on many campus governance committees and has twice been elected as Chair of the Faculty.

    Being very active in the University Church, he has represented the church and the University in church constituency meetings, served for many years as an elder, occasionally led religious education classes, and has served two stints as the congregation's head elder or lay leader.

   His educational interests led him to serve for several years on the Rogers Adventist School Board and for two years he chaired that Board.

   Music is another of his interests and gifts. The fall he arrived in Walla Walla he was invited to join the choir of the Congregational Church as a section leader where he sang for several years and subsequently was invited to join the Walla Walla Mastersingers (under Robert Bode [bo-dee] and has sung the bass solos in Handel’s Messiah, Mozart’s Requiem, Bach’s Passion According to Saint Matthew, and other major works.

   Some 15 years ago, Austin joined a group of volunteers who had begun re-entry work at the Washington State Penitentiary.  They engaged with inmates who were within 6 months of release, orienting them to the world outside of prison, helping them identify housing, planning for further education, helping them with FAFSA applications, and in other ways prepare for their release.

These interventions have been shown to have a significant effect on reducing recidivism.  A group of them formed a non-profit organization to continue and expand the work known now as the STAR (Successful Transition and Re-entry) Project.  Austin joined the board as a founding member, eventually serving as President of the Board.

   After a hiatus of a few years, he rejoined the board in 2017, where he continues to serve.

Not long after the purchase of a former nursing home building by a group of Adventists in College Place, Austin was invited to join a steering committee to plan its transformation into a service center for the community.  He chaired the committee that drafted the initial constitution for what would eventually become SonBridge Community Center and has served on the Board of SonBridge since its founding in 2005.

   Two years ago (late 2017) he was appointed by the Walla Walla County Commission to become a Trustee of the Walla Walla County Rural Library District.  This year he was elected by the Trustees to serve as Chair.  Also this year, the citizens of College Place voted to be annexed to the Library District, which currently maintains libraries in Prescott, Burbank, Touchet, Vista Hermosa, and Plaza Way in Walla Walla.  

   We are pleased to recognize Austin’s vigorous and multi-faceted investment in this community by awarding him the 2019 Walla Walla University Community Service Award.

Please join me in congratulating Dr. Austin Archer.

Dr. Austin Archer and Dr. John McVay

With Austin and wife Beverly

Austin and Len Archer

Austin's Acceptance Speech

   One does not do these things for reward. Still it does feel good to have one’s work recognized. After all, we humans are hard-wired to welcome recognition. So, I want to thank those who nominated me for this award, and the University administration for selecting me. I would also like to thank my colleagues, family members and friends at our table, including my wife Beverly, and my brother, Dr. Len Archer, here from Florida, having amended a business itinerary so that he could be here for this event. Thanks also to the Chamber for making possible this beautiful evening.

   I have tried, however feebly, to follow the principle enunciated by Jesus in Matthew 25:40 CEB “when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.”

   But in recent days as I contemplated this award, I could not help but think of a man named Henry, who modeled for me the spirit of service. With no more than an elementary school education, he was committed to the welfare of his 11 siblings of which he was the oldest son, and nine children (myself included), whose well-being, especially whose education, was his passion. Beyond his family, he embodied service to his community; among other things, advocating for, and pioneering the development of credit unions and cooperative enterprises, first in his village, and in the small Caribbean island where he lived, mostly without compensation. He served on school boards, government commissions, and church committees. An enthusiastic fundraiser, he raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for humanitarian projects.  An incurable optimist, his favorite saying was “things are getting better“, and he did what he could to see that things always got better.

   Henry Archer left us this year, aged 101, just as the sun went down on Good Friday. So, I am thinking of my father tonight, and dedicate this award to his memory.

*******************************************

There are few times when I have felt more proud to be Austin's brother and I was especially honored to be invited to share this occasion. Congratulations, my brother!

Reflections on the Life of Henry Rival Archer, HBM

The English language has many words to describe this man who was so gifted, so giving, and so kind; but not enough. Dad, Henry Rival Archer, HBM was born on March 3, 1918 and died on April 19, 2019. He was 101 years old. I have always felt a special bond to my Father because we had birthdays close together. He, March 3, his birthdate said his mother, (or March 5, assigned to him at registration).  Me, March 1. So, every year when I celebrated my birthday, my heart turned to his. But there are other important characteristics than a mere birthdate cannot fairly express so, I have chosen four words to describe my Dad.


Dad (1918-2019)

Industry – He was the hardest-working man I knew. No job was too hard. Although never receiving a formal high school education, he mastered skills of accounting and business management under the guidance of his mentor, Mr. RJD Nias. He came home every afternoon after working as a grocery store manager, put on his work clothes and headed out to the garden – a place he loved, and diligently did his gardening until late into the darkness. He continued this habit until past his 100^th birthday when his strength finally failed him. Well into his 90’s he won a gardening competition organized by the Tobago House of Assembly and copped the first place monetary prize. He rose to become the general manager of a chain of supermarkets owned by the community - the Tobago Cooperative Society, Ltd. In 1970, due to his public service, he was honored by the government of Trinidad and Tobago and awarded the Humming Bird Medal, Silver, for Cooperative Development.

Honesty – He was honest to a fault. As a child he taught me how to do the church treasurer's duties - posting the tithes and offerings for each giver and making sure the postings matched the monies received; and I would observe him as he did the accounts for the Carnbee Cooperative supermarket, of which he was the manager. He would spend hours, sometimes days, going over the accounts to ensure the credit and debit sides of the ledger, the expenses and liabilities vs the income, to ensure that when the books were audited every penny was accounted for.  On occasion after posting the church funds, the postings did not balance with the money received. As hours passed by, unable to find the error he would take 10 cents or 25 cents, or whatever was needed, out of his pocket and added it to the account to make sure it was balanced. He taught me honesty.

Frugality – Not stinginess; not miserly; he was a giver who found a way to donate thousands of dollars to help scores of young people attending primary, secondary school or college. Many young people – relatives and strangers – spent months, sometimes years in our home because he, along with my Mom, wanted to provide them with an opportunity in life. He used his money wisely and pooled his resources to be used in the best way possible. Nothing was wasted.

• He collected scrap metal and wood he used in building and repairing.
• He would save his daily government stipend from his weekly trips on government business because he considered it additional income he could live without.
• For years, he accumulated property, paying month by month until paid off and gave everyone of his 9 children and two of his grandsons a plot of land.

Spirituality - He believed in God and what God could do for him. His parting words to us would always be, “Boy (Girl), stay close to the Lord!”  He believed in prayer, praying unceasingly for us his children and grandchildren. And of course, is there a person in Tobago who would not have heard the message he received in a dream. “Henry go tell everyone, ‘Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it Holy!’” He missed no opportunity: maybe at a funeral or a wedding or on the inter-island ferry heading to Port of Spain, Trinidad. And before you brush off his dreams, vision, or intuition, let me share a personal story. After leaving the island shores to continue my education in the United States, my wife and I vowed that we were going to make it on our own, that Daddy had given enough. One day, with only about 50 cents in our possession and wondering where we were going to get the next meal and the baby diapers for our baby, we received a call. “Boy, I was thinking of you all, and I sent you something.” But the next day an envelope arrived in the mail with a generous gift to see us through until I could receive some money as a student worker at Andrews University. This was the age of snail mail. Long before I was in need, he mailed a check.

Mom (1922-2017)

And he believed in family. Though several of his children and grandchildren migrated to the United States, he did not miss the graduations or weddings of his children or grandchildren, until too feeble to travel.



And his optimism. He never thought he could fail at anything he did! He was a mighty man, a giant of a man – all 5ft. 5in. of him. How well we remember him singing one of his favorite ditties, “Things are getting better!” And hearing him repeat his favorite Bible verse from Isaiah 54:17: “No weapon that is formed against thee (me) shall prosper...” There was something about Dad that made you confident about life and that if you suffered any unfortunate situations or difficult times occurred, he was there to give you a hand; and at times we all needed it and received it.

For me, this world will be a very different place. Approaching his centennial year last year March, 2018, we all teased him with cricketing analogies: “Hold your crease, Dad!” “Keep your eyes on the ball!” “Don’t get run out!” “Get the century!” Well, he made it. But permit me to extend the analogy, but from a spiritual perspective. He batted well, made the century and is now retired to start his innings again when the Lord comes to take him home. He died on Good Friday, April 19, 2019 as the Sabbath began. Just like he had always done, he took a Sabbath rest to rise on a “Sunday” morning! That was his "Blessed Hope!" Take a break, Daddy! You batted well!

Fighting For Better

I have not posted on this site in quite a while. However, today I was inspired to share the weekly blog that Daryl Tol, President of Florida Hospital (soon to be AdventHealth) writes to all employees. This post, following, is an inspiring look at the journey towards perfection and I share it in its entirety. His story follows:

(Team Update - Week of September 9)

 I was sharing the stage recently with three physician leaders. We were talking about the opportunities we have to do an even better job for customers if we all work together. The audience was made up of a large number of primary care physicians and the engagement was excellent. Except in one of the back corners of the room. In that dark corner, one of the participants was leaning back, arms defensively crossed across his chest, waiting. As soon as it was time for questions and answers, his arm shot into the air. Actually, it may have already been in the air like the early press of the buzzer on Jeopardy.

When acknowledged, it became clear this moment was the entire reason our friend in the back corner had come. He grasped the mic, stood up, pulled the proverbial pin in the grenade and tossed his question into the middle of the room. “Florida Hospital has problems and its leaders are imperfect and as long as this is the case, how dare you ask us for our help making it better?” Actually, that’s a summary of a much longer question. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that line of reasoning and it always gives me pause. Florida Hospital has broken bits so we can’t fix it?

Imagine a patient walking into one of our offices with a broken arm. We look at her and tell her that until she gets that messed up arm in perfect working order, we can’t do anything for her! She’d probably have a few choice words for us because she can’t fix that arm by herself. She needs help. She’s willing, which is why she came in in the first place. But our expertise is the only hope she has. Sending her away unaided would be professional malpractice. No one would stand for this scenario related to a patient, but when it comes to working together as healthcare providers, the water gets muddier.

Now, step back with me from this scenario and think of the choice we’ve all made. The choice is to enter a profession in which all of us, every day, fight for better. We didn’t make the choice to win every battle. We certainly didn’t make the choice to win the war. We made the choice to fight. All of our patients will eventually pass away. We can’t provide eternal life or wipe away suffering and tears. We tell people they should exercise, lose weight, or stop smoking. Many don’t take our advice. We deal with the battered and the broken and the imperfect. That includes us. Throw paperwork, technology and regulation into the mix and it all becomes a significant weight on our psyche.

A weight on the psyche has to be dealt with and there are many ways people deal with the weight. One way is to become professional critics. There is an oddity in our human nature that if we can look at the other and point out his or her faults we can avoid our own sense of struggle, imperfection and loss. We can actually feel better because at least we aren’t as bad as…you. But, self-delusion doesn’t have a long-term healing effect and eventually becomes its own kind of weight. There is no nobility in being the sideline critic. Frustration and burnout are the inevitable result.

There is a healthier way to deal with the weight: First, accept the reality that you are fighting for inches, pushing a heavy ball forward. Second, realize that you are not up to the fight alone and that any weight is lifted more easily by a team. God made us to fight battles together, not apart. He made us smarter together. He made us stronger together. He made us more resilient together. He made life more fun when it’s lived together. Even though we live in an isolating time, it is still true that we are better together. That will always be true.

Every step toward our potential will take work. Some of the steps will take years of work. Some may not be completed in our lifetime. Imperfection is built in. Frustration will be part of the journey. There will be sweat on the floor. But there is nobility in this work. There is meaning in this work. It takes courage and commitment and trust and an undying willingness to lean on each other. The reward is progress and resilience and relationship.

Thank you for joining me in my imperfection to fight for better. I’m proud to stand beside you.

Daryl Tol

A Time to Look Back

In a few hours, 2017 comes to an end and a new year, 2018, will be ushered in with fanfare. Already, several countries around the world have showcased extravagant New Year celebrations. Millions of people across the world from Austria to Australia, China to Chile will celebrate with fireworks and parties, the exuberance of a new beginning.  It’s good to put the past behind and look forward to the possibilities and expectations of a new year.  However, before we move on, I would like to take a last review of what 2017 was for me.

Looking back one can find moments of joys and sorrows, moments of exhilaration and times of foreboding, moments of ecstasy followed by times of grief. That’s typical for any year, but 2017 was particularly noteworthy for those emotional swings. Here are a few of those encounters which are etched in my memory.

 In April, I celebrated the ten year anniversary of my diagnosis with nasopharyngeal cancer. But within a few days, I was informed by dermatologist that a suspicious nodule removed from my inner left leg had tested positive for angiosarcoma. After requesting a second opinion, it was confirmed that the initial diagnosis was correct and I now faced a protocol that would include surgery to remove a larger swath of tissue from the offending area followed by six weeks (30 sessions) of radiation therapy. The first attempt of surgery was suspended after anesthesia was administered because the doctors encounter difficulty performing an intubation as a result of the traumatized and scarred oropharyngeal pathway from treatment 10:years prior.

After a second successful attempt at surgery, and before the radiation began, I received the sad news that my 95 year old mother was hospitalized. She had suffered a fall, which by itself appeared innocuous. However, accompanied by suspected pneumonia, she quickly declined and passed away on September 29. I postponed the start of my radiology treatment to travel to Tobago, where along with my siblings and scores of relatives and friends, we were privileged to pay tribute to our dear mother as she was laid to rest on October 8.

I completed my radiation therapy on November 29. It was also the day on which my wife, Nichole had surgery for a seriously torn rotator cuff and biceps muscle. We were both incapacitated for several weeks - she, painfully enduring the post-op pain, and I, hobbling with the raw deteriorating skin as a result of six weeks of radiation. 

As we both improved, we received news that my now widowed, 99 year old Dad had experienced several falls. As his muscles wear weak and his sight fails, he finds it more difficult to keep his balance. But old habits and manly ways along with the tendency to suppress his desire to be active lends to the habit of perhaps taking too many risks that a 99 year old should avoid. The mild bruises and short hospital stays nonetheless, he carries on towards the landmark of one hundred years.

As Christmas approached, we received news that our older brother was admitted to the Scarborough General Hospital in our island home, Tobago. He had experienced several hospitalizations over the last few months and this time appeared ominous. The new year will begin with him clinging to life after being medivaced to the larger and better equipped  San Fernando General Hospital on the larger sister island of Trinidad as he tenuously clings to life.

What a year! Despite the foreboding of Junior’s health, hope springs eternal and every day, every year, bears promises of love and laughter amid the pain, sorrow and hurts that are a natural part of living on this earth. I am grateful for a loving, caring wife, two devoted children, three wonderful grandchildren and blessings too numerous to count.  I look forward to the Centennial celebration of our dad, Henry - his 100th birthday. What a celebration that would be!  “For everything there is an appointed time, and an appropriate time for every activity on earth:”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1‬ ‭NET‬‬

http://bible.com/107/ecc.3.1.net

Love and blessings, always!

When Rituals Find Meaning

I grew up in a Seventh-day Adventist Christian home. We Adventists are peculiar in a way unlike many other Christian denominations. Like the Jews, we honor the seventh day of the week, Saturday, as a Sabbath - a day on which we set aside the routines of weekly activity, and rest - essential services exempted. Rest, meaning casual, relaxed, respite, different., change of the routine. There are a wide variety of Sabbath activities among Adventists. For some, it's going to church with the family, enjoying family meals in a less hectic environment - in a relaxed atmosphere. For many others, it may include a quiet day at home reading; being with the family, or enjoying a jog or bike ride alone or with friends; a hike in the forest or a gentle stroll through the park. For some others, it's an opportunity to visit those confined by illness, incarceration, or the limitations of aging, visiting hospitals, prisons, nursing homes.

But there some practices that have become rituals. One of those rituals is the way we greet each other. As the sun sets in the western horizon on Friday evenings, the greeting that transcends all and in every language imaginable is: Happy Sabbath! Shabbat Shalom (Jewish), Feliz Sábado (Spanish or Portuguese), Bon Sabbat (French), Salanapa Sabadi Kadepa Gogodala (New Guinea), Sabato njema (Swahili), Gelukkig Sabbat (Dutch) and hundreds more. "Good morning" or "Good day" is often reserved for the rest of the week or selectively used for those presumed to be not Adventists. It has become cultural lingo. It is a greeting that acknowledges the feeling of end-of-the-week exhaustion and gives one a sense of relaxation; of calm exhalation of the previous week's load of responsibility and an opportunity to project hope for the week ahead. Rest, respite, reinvigoration, relaxation, revitalization!

In Jewish tradition, whenever another celebration or holiday fell on the weekly Sabbath, it was regarded as a "high" day - an opportunity for a double celebration. As eventful as this week has been, the news just got better, and Sabbath, sweeter. In a way, a high day! My oncologist texted me early Friday morning because, as he said, he wanted me to wake up to good news. The text was as follows:
"Mr Archer, sorry to text you so early, but I wanted you to wake up with good news: no cancer on the lymph node nor the scar."
That was the Pathology report.

So, with the deepest, sincerest meaning possible, "Happy Sabbath!" It's a high day!

Love and blessings,
Len

I Shall Return

Yesterday, Wednesday August 23, 2017 was a good day. With the help of expert otolaryngologist, Dr. Scott Magnuson, who managed my airway to facilitate intubation, surgical oncologist Dr. Sebastian De La Fuente successfully conducted the planned excision of tissue around the area that had previously tested positive for Angiosarcoma. In addition, he removed some inguinal lymph nodes for biopsy.  I am indebted to these dedicated surgeons and the wonderful team of caregivers at Florida Hospital Celebration for their professionalism, compassion, and caring, including the two nuclear medicine graduates from Adventist University of Health Sciences who did my NMR/CT scan the previous evening. I could not be more proud when receiving care from these ADU graduates, who along with the entire team demonstrate the mission of Florida Hospital - extending the healing ministry of Christ.
Although the surgeons had previously planned on a one-night hospital for observation to ensure my medical stability, I was discharged at the end of the day with the opportunity to rest at home in the comfort of my own bed. The intubation went so smoothly that I have had no oropharyngeal discomfort; only slight soreness at the surgery site but no post-op pain. Due to my limited mobility, I am expected to rest up up for a few days as healing progresses and I plan to return to work when my pain threshold and mobility allows. The results of the lymph node biopsy will determine whether further surgery will be required and whether chemotherapy will be needed. However, after healing of the site, in about six weeks, my radiation treatments will begin.
But permit me to share another war story.  Between 1939 and 1945, Allied Forces on the Western Front, primarily from Britain, France, and the United States accompanied by many other European, Australian, African, and Asian forces, fought valiantly against the Germans. Seizing on the preoccupation of the United States in the European theatre, Japanese forces unleashed an unprovoked attack on the United States at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. General Douglas MacArthur named the leader of United States Military Forces in the Far East during that time. After numerous losses, MacArthur and his family were forced to retreat to Australia. He then gave a speech in which he famously promised the residents of the Philippines and the islands of the South Pacific, "I shall return." After more than two years of fighting in the Pacific, he fulfilled that promise. Return, he did! For his defense of the Philippines, MacArthur was awarded the Medal of Honor. He officially accepted Japan's surrender on September 2, 1945, aboard the USS Missouri anchored in Tokyo Bay, and oversaw the occupation of Japan from 1945 to 1951.
Millions of men around the world joined the Allied forces, including thousands from the colonies of the expansive British Empire around the world, many of whom volunteered to fight against the forces of Germany and Japan. American and British generals were hailed as heroes among the colonies as the allied forces fought valiantly to defeat the forces of racism and fascism. My parents named me Len McArthur Archer - my middle name (spelling nonetheless) a tribute to the great American general who was venerated by many colonials of the British empire after the war. I grew up knowing that the name evoked emotions of resolve, grit, and promise. 
There are many things worth fighting for, or at least making a valiant effort to achieve. In spite of the challenges I have experienced in recent years, rest assured that the grit and determination of the  iconic MacArthur is mine. I look forward to a full recovery and back to work and play, and the love of family and friends.

I SHALL RETURN!

Love and Blessings,
Len

Fit For a Fight

I love athletics and have participated in various sporting events all my life.  As a highschooler, I was on the track and field, cricket, football (soccer), and table tennis teams.  I have never considered myself greatly skilled at any of them and I performed best as a cross country and middle distance athlete.  I never began seriously training for track and field until I was about 17 years old. In fact, for most sports I just played casually and showed up, but I loved to run. In football (soccer), I didn't juggle the ball with my feet or head as well as some could and my small, skinny stature made me less likely to maintain possession of the ball when tackled by bigger, stronger opponents, but good enough to represent my high school and play for my local amateur team in the island league. In cricket, I had the eye-hand coordination that was necessary to be average but since I did not spend a lot of time practicing, I never gained what it took to excel to a regional or national youth team.
So what was my secret? If you were as good as me, I'd win! If you were just slightly better than me, you'd lose! Why? Because I could run all day and would never give up. I was a pest on the pitch (or field, if you like the American terminology).  If winning required a final sprint, I would be dying before I gave up. So, you would need to be better than me, because you would likely not have the will to keep going as long as I would.  I had, what my classmates at school called "guts" to outlast you.  I'd die only after you did.
After moving to Orlando in 1993, I started running more frequently, completing eight Disney marathons and a half marathon. I didn't run or train extensively so my times were hohum but I never quit. In 2004, I started roadbiking with my son who had recently returned home from college. It was an opportunity for us to be active together. My riding buddies know that they can count on one thing - whether its a 20 miler of a 100 miler, I would only quit if forced to due to serious injury or illness.
I guess that it is just my DNA, because that philosophy extended to my academic career.  I encountered numerous set-backs while working on my dissertation research - lost data, failed equipment, accidental destruction of research materials. Although often deflated by the experiences, the only thing that I never considered was quitting.  That may not always be the wisest choice, but for me it always seems the only choice.
As in 2007 when I was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal cancer, I now face the daunting future of another cancer diagnosis - angiosarcoma.
During World War II, British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill gave numerous speeches to rally the British people in the face of an advancing German army. One of his most famous included phrases that have been modified and used hundreds of times: "We shall never surrender...we shall never, never, never give up!"
On my recent trip to Trinidad and Tobago, I contracted a viral infection and developed symptoms of constant sneezing, a slight fever, and a cough that indicated a mild chest infection. More concerning, I also began to experience night sweats. I was scared. Scared that my night sweats were a sign of cancer metastasis and a bleak outlook.  By the time I returned to the US after an eight hour flight delay and lack of sleep, I was exhausted, scared, and depressed. For the first time, I felt like giving up - a feeling I had not experienced during my episode of cancer 10 years ago. After a long night's sleep that extended through the next, I felt stronger emotionally and physically. I now feel energized and ready for the fight. There are things in in life worth fighting for. I won't ever give up on my family. I won't ever give up on my marriage, and despite the many questions I sometimes have about religion, I will never give up on God.
Thanks to the hundreds of you who have expressed, in various ways, your love and support - thinking of me, praying for me, encouraging me, sending notes (please no memes) and even those silent, unspoken fears of what this may mean; and I can't omit my biking brothers who prayed for me on my last ride before my rescheduled surgery at 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, August 23. This I know! I plan to face this challenge the only way I know. To smile, and maybe cry and to display guts and courage. My goal is to return to good health; to return to join my friends riding for a long bike ride; to continue to bask in the love of my wife, children, and precious grandchildren. I will fight this setback the only way I know - I will never, never, ever give up!
Love and blessings!
Len

The Unsuspecting

I am facing another health challenge. On May 20, 2017, I visited a dermatologist to remove a nodule I believed to be remnants of a bike sore - the result of continual friction between skin tissue and fabric. After all, we road-bikers occasionally get these small annoyances after riding for long hours. The excised tissue was sent to the Florida Hospital Pathology lab for analysis.  Several weeks later, the dermatologist called to inform me of the results of the pathology test. "I am concerned about a Pathology report I have received about the nodule I removed a few weeks ago. The Pathology report indicates a positive test for angiosarcoma. I would recommend that you see an oncologist. Do you know one?" It seemed like a lot of information to absorb; but it had been only about 20 seconds since he had greeted me with "Mr. Archer, how are you?"  "Please fax me the report immediately and also send it to my oncologist," l responded, while providing him with my oncologist's contact information. "By the way, please also send a copy to my Primary Care Physician." On receipt of a copy of the report, I scanned it and emailed it to my wife and children.
I have been blessed with a wonderful family. My wife is the ultimate homemaker and caregiver. My son, a hospital executive, is thoughtful and analytical. My daughter, a lawyer, has an eye for the detail that many of us might miss along the way. Later that evening, as we met to discuss the next steps, we decided that we should have a second opinion, another Pathology review of the tissue.  Several days later, the second opinion, performed by Moffit Cancer, confirmed the first. It was described as epithelioid angiosarcoma, a cancer of the lining of the blood and lymph vessels.(http://sarcomahelp.org/angiosarcoma.html). Unsuspecting! (By the way, this is totally unrelated to my experience with nasopharyngeal cancer in 2007.) 
Whether there was metastasis or not, was at this time concerning as the cancer cells were too close to the margins of the incision. Suspicion loomed and a reexcision was recommended. My oncologist ordered a PET scan which appeared normal. Good news! A team was assembled to review my medical status and make the appropriate recommendations. The surgical oncologist and a radiation oncologist collaborated and came up with a treatment plan. Surgery (a wider excision) followed by radiation. 
An initial attempt of surgery was terminated due to complications during anesthesia. My trachea became extremely scarred, narrow, and warped during my radiation treatment in 2007. As a result, intubation during anesthesia is risky. In 2012, a failure to complete intubation during anesthesia resulted in a tracheotomy. My surgeon therefore decided to abort anesthesia and suspend surgery before the critical decision to perform a tracheotomy. 
After a life of relatively good health, with a fairly active lifestyle, this was an unexpected diagnosis and is a reminder of the tenuous nature of life on this planet. Although I had a normal PET scan, the risks are obvious, but the prognosis can be described as guarded to good. At this time, I am prepped for radiation and after a short time away visiting my parents in Tobago, I will make a decision regarding another attempt at surgery, or proceed with radiation only. My previous experience with cancer, notwithstanding, I am hopeful and I look forward to a rapid recuperation and full recovery. 

Love and blessings!

Len

Inclusion or Seclusion; Insiders and Outsiders; Bridges or Barriers

I have not posted on this site for a while. Every week, Daryl Tol, President of Florida Hospital shares a story with the Florida Hospital family and this one was posted on Sunday, May 22, 2016.  It is my pleasure to share this one with you. Thanks Daryl.

Speaking of unheralded, we probably forget sometimes that we have a University that is part of our family. If you’re a graduate, then you don’t, of course. But if you didn’t attend Adventist University of Health Sciences you could be forgiven for momentary lapses in remembering. Anyway, the leadership there spent some time this week planning and discussing and doing other smart and academically impressive things together. They even let me gather with them for about an hour, momentarily lowering the IQ requirement.

During their meeting they talked about the contrast between something called bounded sets compared to something called centered sets. I told you it was smart and academical. The explanation went something like this…

There are two different ways of keeping groups of things together. One is to gather them together and fence them in. That would be a bounded set. If you’re inside the fence you’re an insider. If you’re outside the fence…yep, you got it. The other way would be to create some kind of attractive element that draws things toward it. That would be a centered set. In that case, you’re not inside or outside. You’re just closer or farther from the attractive element in the center.

An example. In the American west as settlers started meandering across the landscape, they continually struggled with their animals wandering off. That’s why in 4^th or 5^th grade we learned about this amazing thing called barbed wire that transformed the west. Simply by pounding posts into the ground and stringing barbed wire across thousands of acres, ranchers and farmers staked their claims and bundled up what they owned into neat packages. They created huge bounded sets to identify what was in and what was out. And then gave them catchy names like “The Squirming S” or “The Rocking Z”.

Other parts of the world used a different approach. Australia is apparently a great example because it happened at around the same time. There, in Australia, they didn’t fence in the landscape. Instead, they dug water holes and wells. Knowing livestock in that dry territory would hang out close to water, they created a centered set. A place that would draw in their livestock, keeping them in reasonable proximity. The next rancher over would do the same thing and everyone would keep their cattle (maybe even a few kangaroos) close enough for comfort.

This kind of thinking defines our world. Consider countries. Some places get pretty extreme and build huge walls that try to keep their population inside. Think of places like the old Soviet Union or North Korea. It seems as if the higher the wall, the more people want to get out, but they still try. America is certainly imperfect, but it has built a philosophy around possibility that draws people here from all over the world. Rather than trying to leave, people come. It works so well, some people talk about building walls to keep people out. But that’s another topic entirely.

Consider the spiritual application. Some of us have been raised to believe that our religion is like a fence. You’re either inside (yay) or outside (boo). It can feel pretty good being inside of any group. And it can feel pretty bad being outside. It plays into our human nature as the insiders build a sense of superiority and the outsiders build a sense of resentment. Not really healthy in either direction.

God had a different plan. He didn’t build a fence. He built a well. He called it living water and said if we drank from it we wouldn’t ever be thirsty again. Many of us see the cross there. We know that God put it there and that any time we choose to turn toward it, it is there for us, no matter how far away we are. That it will save us whether we’re 10,000 miles away or 3 feet away. There’s no fence to climb over and there’s no inside or outside. We’re just His and He loves us. He loves us enough to let us wander off into the desert if we want to, but He always makes it so easy to come back. It’s a miracle, I think.

Once I realize the power of this, it changes the way I see other people. The way I’m called to care for everyone I come in contact with. Because we’re not on different ranches or part of various warring tribes. We’re on the same journey and can be a huge help to each other along the way.

Daryl