My family and some of my oldest friends know that my first name is not really Dale, but Delmar. “Delmar” was a mistake. It was supposed to be Dalmer, after my father’s friend who was missing in World War II when I was born. He came home. The birth certificate, however, said “Delmar” and by the time the mistake was discovered an official procedure was required to make the change. That never happened. But my parents always intended to call me Dale. Only a few friends in the know ever called me Delmar, usually affectionately. And only my college football coach called me Del. He should have known better since we lived for 22 years in the same small town and his daughter was my high school classmate. He never addressed me directly as Del, so I didn’t have to decide whether I would correct him. But he said things like “Del will take this spot on the kickoff team” or “Del missed that tackle.” I assumed he wasn’t talking about me.
Lately however I have found myself more tolerant of the name Delmar. It is on all the official documents and identity cards, of course; and on my passport, credit cards, airline tickets, insurance forms etc. People look at those things and, in this age of informal friendliness, say “Right this way Delmar,” or “Checking any bags Delmar?” Or at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, “Any flu or cold symptoms Delmar?” I would not say I have embraced the name, but I am thinking about it. I have always assumed that when I arrive in heaven, God will welcome me as Dale, but if there is something official about that port of entry and God refers to me as Delmar, I am beginning to think that would be ok. I have noticed that I do not have the need to correct any of the friendly people in my current life who call me Delmar.
This past year with brain cancer has been a year of reflection, theological thinking, and spiritual growth for me. I have thought a lot about who God is and what God is doing. And about who I am, what God wants of me, and what I want of myself. In other words, it has been a year of thinking about identity; and in some ways growing in identity. I am definitely not the same person I was a year ago, though still grounded in the person I was.
There is a story in the Bible about a person wrestling with God and emerging with a new identity. I don’t think I ever was the scoundrel Jacob was, nor have I attained his heights of service to God. But I have said to myself “Surely the Lord was in this place and I did not know it,” as he did. And I have wrestled with God this year in my more intellectual, less earthy way than Jacob. You can find his wrestling story in Genesis 32. He emerges from his night of struggle with a new name, Israel; and with a limp. I am emerging from my year with brain cancer, more tolerant of a new old name; and also with a limp.
Even before my great MRI report this week (see May medical update), I have been feeling the best I have felt physically since before my diagnosis, and the best I have felt emotionally for at least that long. And spiritually I have grown. The one symptom of the tumor that remains in my daily life is a weakness in my right leg which turns into a foot dragging limp if I walk too great a distance. I wonder if I will always have this limp. If so that would probably be ok with me. It reminds me, as his limp reminded Jacob, that I am weak but God is strong. I am vulnerable but God is faithful. I am mortal, and God promises resurrection with its greater life. And whatever I accomplish in my remaining days will be by God’s grace and with God’s help.
Isaiah 30:15 says “In quietness and trust is my strength.”
Right Delmar?
Wonderful report! We are grateful with joy with you! Love the blog and heartfelt sharing that encourages us. Hugs to you both! I’ve prayed all along for “signs and wonders” and it seems that wonders are indeed on the scene 🙂
Dale…..you will always be Dilly Bar to me………Jim Gordon
So glad to hear the good news on your medical upddate.
True that, Delmar!