Is it okay for a pastor to feel these feelings?

By Scott Linscott

Life has thrown a number of curveballs of uncertainty at me of late. Added to that, internals and externals have overwhelmed my calendar with dates and deadlines and people needing something from me at every turn. Added together, they have me feeling like the proverbial camel dreading that one last straw that will break my back.

Has a song ever stopped you in your tracks while the lyrics hit you and made you wonder, “did they write this song about me? Is someone watching me?” That describes my morning here in Georgia, alone in this big, empty, silent house, where I have come as a literal escape from all the things pressing in on me. I’ve played it and replayed it at least 10 times, a few times with tears streaking my cheeks.

“When your weary heart is hurting or you’re feeling so alone
When you think that you’re a burden or nowhere feels like home
When everything feels like it’s changing and you don’t understand why
Trying so hard to be strong and brave but so tired you wanna cry
Don’t forget as you fall asleep to lay it all at the Father’s feet”

My mental health is not so healthy right now. I’m being triggered by new health challenges in addition to too many people depending on me and hoping that I will be able to help them with whatever challenges they face. I think I know at least part of what I am battling. It’s called “Imposter Syndrome” or “perceived fraudulence.

“Imposter syndrome is believing you are not as competent as others perceive you to be. You develop a fear of being found out, and may believe you have only got to where you are by luck. This commonly leads to feelings of self-doubt and anxiety.”

Tessa Armstrong, Voices for Life

I know its name. I know what it does. I know that it’s irrational and ignores my training, my experience, my degrees, my history, my resume, and my qualifications. And, even though much of the evangelical world does not recognize mental struggles or illness as valid, my symptoms are as real and evident to me as the scratchy throat and sinus pressure of a cold.

“You can rest, you can rest
In the one who never breaks His promises
Close your eyes, talk to Him
When you’re scared and feel the darkness rolling in
In your worry and your pain, just breathe in and out His name
Jesus, oh, Jesus
And you can rest

When you’re looking in the mirror and you’re struggling to believe
Am I really who He says I am, or will God give up on me?
When anxiety is yelling and it’s drowning out today
When it’s hard to see tomorrow and you don’t know how to pray”

Is what I am feeling biblical? Did others feel it too? Am I a faith fraud too? I read of Moses initially wearing a veil over his face to temper the radiance that came every time he met with God. But, then 2 Corinthians 3:13 talks about how he later kept wearing it so people would not see that radiance fading. Was Moses suffering from imposter syndrome, feeling like he didn’t have it anymore, even though his resume and experience were undeniable? Maybe?

Jesus consistently addresses our feelings of inadequacy as the result of our inability to grasp the total paradigm shift he brought where our value is not the result of our performance or excellence. Our value is in our very existence as the focus of the creator of the universe. I know it, I preach it, and yet here I am with my mind rejecting it and needing some reprogramming. In Matthew 6:25-34 Jesus reminds us three times that we need not be anxious (vv. 25, 31, 34) and gives us eight reasons we can rest. (Coming soon to a message I will teach.)

“You can rest, you can rest
In the one who never breaks His promises
Close your eyes, talk to Him
When you’re scared and feel the darkness rolling in
In your worry and your pain, just breathe in and out His name
Jesus, oh, Jesus
And you can rest
You can rest

Don’t forget as you fall asleep
You are safe at the Father’s feet”

We all know that hearing “don’t be anxious” or “you shouldn’t feel like that,” apart from practical steps to help us retrain our thinking and establish new patterns, is not helpful. I’m recognizing that I need to restart the process of “renewing my mind,” as it says in Romans 12:2, trusting God, and being realistic in evaluating every external influence over my life. I’ve started putting together some steps, a punch list of sorts, to move back onto the path of mental and physical health and peace:

  1. Stop working for God and start working with God again.
  2. Set an appointment to talk to someone who has the tools to help me find clarity and direction to sort all this stuff out. (Dempsey Cancer Center?)
  3. List things, responsibilities, and projects that see me as “the solution” or “the answer,” and release some, no matter how worthy.
  4. Deal with this irrational fear that my “luck” is going to run out, revealing me as a fraud and a failure. Any successes I have had are the result of God’s providential love and support, not luck. His providential care DOES NOT and WILL NOT expire!
  5. Process this irrational fear of again being a burden to my wife, family, church, and friends. (Related to upcoming surgery and my past transplant surgery. They are NOT the same.)
  6. Get free from this belief that overworking is the only way to meet expectations and gain acceptance.
  7. Process these feelings of being unworthy of attention or affection.
  8. Stop allowing criticism and conflict consume me and nullify accomplishments.
  9. Delegate or delay rather than take on more.
  10. Do something entirely different? Learn something I know absolutely nothing about? (Edit: not instead of being pastor. I mean learn a new hobby, take a course, volunteer somewhere I have no leadership responsibility, etc)

It’s year ten of me leading a church of people I love. While I resisted becoming “Pastor Man,” I fear it has happened anyway, somewhat naturally. Imposter syndrome has me questioning if I should even be in this role. Am I truly qualified? Why am I in this position? What if I let these people down? Pastors shouldn’t feel like this, right? I shouldn’t feel like this. I should be stronger than this.

Even as I typed that paragraph of negative self-talk, I see the problem. It’s even tattooed on my right leg as a reminder. John 3:30, “He must increase; I must decrease. He must become greater; I must become less.”
Yet, somehow, here I am. Me, me, me. I, I, I.

“You can rest, you can rest
In the one who never breaks His promises
Just close your eyes and talk to Him
When you’re scared and feel the darkness rolling in
In your worry and your pain, just breathe in and out His name
Jesus, Jesus
Oh, Jesus
And you can rest
You can rest”

Songwriters: Hillary Scott, David Wesley Haywood, Katy Boatman. For non-commercial use only.

If I change nothing, nothing will change. That final straw will eventually be added, breaking this camel’s back.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Jesus, Matthew 11:28-30, The Message


Scott Linscott is blessed to be one of a team leading a body of Jesus-followers in a 135-year-old church building, smack dab in the middle of one of Maine’s fastest-growing, quickly-changing, high-needs cities. FBC Westbrook is known as a body that lives an active faith meeting needs, serving, and loving its community.

Posted in burnout, depression, discouragement, leadership, ministry, pastor, time management | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Honestly? It’s a bumpy time for me

Back in 1993 to 1999, I flew pretty often. There were some seasons when I was gone several weekends in a row or a few weeks in a row speaking at camps and conferences and going to meetings. I was very used to flying. I didn’t mind it until we would hit the bumps. Thankfully most flights were pretty smooth but there were a few that left me with white knuckles from grabbing the bar.

Life is full of bumps. We can fly smoothly through it for months or even years without hitting any major bumps. Eventually, for all of us, the phone rings with bad news, or a doctor shares words that none of us want to hear.

Airplane in snowstorm

I remember one flight into Denver when we were hitting bumps so strong that overhead compartment doors popped open. I swear I saw my diet Coke jump up out of my cup and then land back in with a splash. I’m not sure that actually happened but my memory says it did. After we landed in Denver, with literal applause from the passengers, I learned that we were the last flight allowed to land before they closed the airport! A giant snowstorm was pounding Denver. That was the worst turbulence I ever experienced. It left me with white knuckles from gripping the armrest so tightly.

Before the news of my needing a liver transplant, I had only experienced mild to medium turbulence in life. It was all the normal stuff: the financial challenges, unemployment, and marriage squabbles, but none of those caused white knuckles. The news of my needing a liver to survive was our first white-knuckles turbulence. That was about 12 years ago.

I’ve had a few little bumps that seemed like bigger bumps only because of all I went through but, overall, things have been pretty smooth. And, realistically, this turbulence that’s making my knuckles turn a bit white right now isn’t even as big a deal as my mind is making it.

No one likes the C word, right? When any of us hears the word “cancer” we get a little catch in our throats. That’s my turbulence – the c-word – and it has nothing at all to do with my liver. It’s totally separate. Lucky me, right?

I have prostate cancer. It’s not even big-deal, aggressive prostate cancer. It’s just “moderate risk,” monitor-or-treat cancer that went from nothing, to a little bit more than nothing in the last year. I can either treat it with chemotherapy, targeted radiation, or robotic surgery. Or, I can do nothing and have a third biopsy next year to see if it has gotten worse again. My fingers are tightening, stress is building, knuckles whitening…

I don’t want to deal with it, so, taking the advice of people I trust, I’m going to surrender to the robot in the Fall. This whole process is triggering emotions, fears, and nerves. It’s turbulence.

My faith is strong but my nerves (my docs call it “PTSD”) are making me bounce like I’m going into Denver again. It’s affecting me in ways I don’t like, ways that make me feel guilty and even ashamed. I stand up in front of people every week, as though I have everything figured out and never worry about anything. I give life lessons, talk about facing trials and tell people they can meet every challenge with God giving them strength.

I believe that. I’ve experienced that. I know it’s true and I know my God has not left me. I know he’s here with me and I KNOW I will face this and get through it but, I still will feel all the feels. I even know that, in terms of medical advances, this is no big deal at all and not even scary. I’m not going to die but the irrational side of PTSD is winding me up and making my heart race. It’s placing a 40-pound, invisible weight on my chest.

I feel stupid because of the way I am reacting. I feel like a faith failure and a disappointment to God. I’ve even been asking myself what right I have to stand up front on Sunday mornings. The enemy has been using the word “hypocrite” in my mind. Is he right?

Back when I started writing all the transplant journey stuff I promised I’d write honestly. Thankfully, I haven’t had much to write about. Life is good. Very good. Even with these challenges ahead of me, it will still be good.

Now, if only I could get my emotions, my mind, my nighttime dreams, and my blood pressure to believe it too. If only I could get my feelings to be more rational.

If you could join me in praying for peace, that would be swell.


Posted in Liver disease | Leave a comment

A Bonus Day in Boston with My Entire Crew

We had a whirlwind of a great day Saturday. All 13 of us packed into two vehicles to head for Boston for a fun family day. My seat was assigned by Calvin. I was informed, by him, that I would be sitting in the back of their Toyota SUV with him.

After I somehow managed to squeeze my 225-pound, petite, non-muscular body into my spot, climbing through a gap between Chloe and Colton in the middle row, the questions began. Rapid-fire, one-after-another, non-stop “Grampa, why” continued for 90 minutes until I was faced with the challenge of climbing out of my place in the sardine can into the expanse of a Boston parking garage.

A day of learning followed. Nana read every educational sign from phytoplankton to Weedy Sea Dragons, Colton decided it was finally time to do some real walking beyond three steps and a lunge and Ethan was wide-eyed exploring all the things he’s seen in his animal encyclopedias. Chloe marched forward, directing the troops, with no idea where she was going and I could see Emma studying the colors and shapes and movements of everything. I suspect we will see them influencing her creations this week.

Calvin made a great discovery that he was very excited to show everyone. “Look Grampa, those penguins are playing! That penguin is laying on top of the other penguin and they are both flapping really fast! Everyone, come see what I found!!!” All gathered in amazement to watch as I quietly sneaked off ahead of our crowd to avoid, “Grampa, why are they playing like that?” I figured I’d leave that one for their parents.

After lunch, we made it to the Museum of Science and saw only one wing again. It’s the same wing we always see that focuses on math and engineering and the very sciencey stuff of science. We Linscotts interact with interactive exhibits while Nana teaches and I take pictures and push buttons here and there.

If I can pull it off before July 31 when our membership expires, we’re going to go down again in the morning, skip the penguin playland, and go straight to the museum of science to explore the rest of it. Let’s leave the math and engineering stuff alone and head into the section that focuses on living things, planets and how the world works.

After feasting on Cheesecake Factory deliciousness, and laughing at Colton enjoying time with Auntie Laura and Uncle Jake, it was time for the journey back to Maine. No one was interested in switching spots with me, even for money, so I was in for another 90 minutes of Curious Cal while we listened to the Red Sox.

“Grampa what does it mean that he grew up in the Dominican?” (Radio announcer said it about Devers.)

That’s the country where he lived.

“Oh, but what does ‘he grew up’ mean?”

It means he successfully completed being born, getting older and not getting sick and dying. He grew up.

“He never got sick???”

No, he got sick like everyone gets sick but he didn’t die. So, he grew up and turned into an adult successfully.

Silence as the wheels turned in his little brain.

“Grampa, am I Dominican?”

By this point, his dad is laughing so hard in the front seat that he’s crying.

No, buddy. You were born in America. You are an American.

“Grampa, are the Red Sox still up to bat? What does “to the warning track’ mean? Did he strike out? Is the other team ahead? What are “extra innings?” Is that cheating to have a guy on second before anybody is even batting? I think it’s cheating. How many more minutes till we are home? My back hurts. Is Chloe sleeping? Was that a strike or a ball? …

We pulled up to our house and I somehow managed to wrangle myself out of the back once more without pulling even a single muscle.

“Bye Grampa! See you tomorrow!”

I am doing a good deal of reflecting, just 12 days from the tenth anniversary of my liver transplant. I remember celebrating each year completed but five years of survival was a milestone. Now, 10 years, is another. Only 52% of people transplanted before age 65 survive to see this milestone. That’s a little better than a coin flip.

Since that summer of 2012, I have not had a single overnight stay in a hospital. Other than the normalcy of life with a suppressed immune system and having tons of colds, flu, and ear, nose, and throat infections, I have cruised to this milestone with just one minor rejection scare.

Ten years ago today I was laying on a couch begging God to give me an end. I was working on a letter to my wife and each of my kids, urging them to go on with life. I remember being so afraid they would be angry at God.

God did not give me an end. His plan was to give me a beginning. And after Saturday with my crew and holding hands with my oldest grandchild in the backseat of a Toyota Highlander, watching grandchild number 5 beaming with pride as we celebrated his first real walking success, and walking behind my youngest son holding hands with his two adoring nephews, I have to admit that my eyes keep filling with thankful tears.

Today is bonus day number 3638. I have only 12 days left to come up with my 10-year tattoo. Maybe Robin has suggestions? (She HATES tats!)

Posted in Liver disease | 3 Comments

We are 1 month from 10 years

It was May 7, 2012 when I received my second shot at life.  I am coming up on ten years of bonus days. Ten years of my Pompom pal at my side.

As I approach my ten year mark I am finding myself a bit more introspective than normal. Like George Bailey, I’ve wondered what things would have looked like without me.

While I was wrestling with my 5 grandkids, ages 1-6, yesterday, that “what if” thought crossed my mind. I shook it off and enjoyed my spot at the bottom of the pile.

Before what I call “my transplant journey,” Myers Briggs personality profiles labeled me an “ENTJ.” I came through on the other side as an ENFP. It’s a big change.

“ENTJs are planners. Making decisions and having a schedule or course of action planned out gives them a sense of predictability and control. They are highly rational, good at spotting problems, and excel at taking charge.”

“ENFPs have excellent people skills. In addition to having an abundance of enthusiasm, they also genuinely care about others. ENFPs are good at understanding what other people are feeling. “

Before my transplant, the plan was my focus. I liked biggest, best and coolest and spent a lot of time and effort achieving those goals. A lot of kids came out on the other side of my systems, truly impacted and with a strong faith. But, marginalized kids remained mostly invisible.

After my transplant, my focus is much more on the marginalized, the broken and those our society calls “the least.” Snags and bumps and hiccups in my programs don’t bother me much, even though I still aim for a certain level of quality. What kills me is when efforts fall flat and people just disappear. I desperately want connection and belonging for everyone but don’t have the capacity to give it to everyone myself.

“Develop enough courage so that you can stand up for yourself and then stand up for somebody else.”

Maya Angelou

I believe God uses all personality types to accomplish his purposes. I just find the personality transformation of my trauma interesting. Do we have to experience true brokenness to understand, value and identify with the broken?

“Develop enough courage so that you can stand up for yourself and then stand up for somebody else.”

– Maya Angelou

Posted in Liver disease | Leave a comment

An escape to the mountains

by Scott Linscott

I’ve been in the White Mountains this week. God provided a surprise opportunity for me to escape.. It’s been a productive week. I’ve had times to rest and times when my adrenaline was pumping (trail rides.) I’ve outlined my Sunday messages through Feb 13. I’ve updated the church website to upload Monday. And I have done a lot of thinking and praying. I’ve also been a bit introspective.

Am I ready to return to hit the ground running? Probably not, but that’s okay. With current events being what they are, It’s probably not a “running” time as much as it is a “standing firm” time. (Ephesians 6)

This morning I used this picture as my prompt. I made this image at the Fryeburg Fair tool museum. Making photographs is different than taking pictures. I was most interested in the cleated shoe in the middle of the display of heavy things. I pictured a logger doing what loggers do, standing firm, solid stance, and good footing.

Roman soldiers wore cleated sandals and some wore cleated boots when Paul wrote his letter to the Jesus followers in Ephesus. Paul told his friends to get dressed in allegorical God armor, not so they could march, or take, or forcefully advance but so they could stand firm and not be moved off their footing on “the good news (gospel) of peace.” He used the word “stand” three times. In this day and age of everyone advancing their opinions and agendas and forcing their ways on everyone else, standing firm is an important distinction.

But, be careful here. This does not give us a license to stubbornly dig in our heels for our own opinions and biases. It means we dig in our heels for the gospel that Jesus taught and lived. We stand firm on that gospel; the die-to-self, I-am-second, servant-focused, redeeming good news that brings incomprehensible peace.

I like to advance. I like to build and create. I have never been much of a maintenance-type personality. I think that’s why this pandemic pause has taken a big toll on me. Almost everything I want to try, start, or put in place is tempered by the “not yet” reality of today. Don’t get me wrong, the pandemic pause has made us do church differently and that has been my spark. Our efforts have turned almost entirely to serving the marginalized and meeting needs. There are very good things that have come out of this mess. We, I, have learned much.

I am not returning to real life with “wings as eagles” and lots of energy to “run and not be weary.” (Isaiah 41) That’s okay. I think we are still in a “wait on the Lord” period. I think we’re still in a “stand firm,” challenging season where we need to lace up our cleats, dig into the Truth we know and face whatever is ahead with faith and confidence.

Posted in Liver disease | Tagged | 2 Comments

COVID 99.7% survivable but half the story

While we do know that COVID survivability is high and hospitalization is low for the population as a whole, the oft-quoted 99.7% survivability statistic only tells part of the story. The actual data shows increasing mortality rates by age. It also increases by category of vulnerability and varying levels of immunosuppression.  As a solid organ recipient, I am particularly aware of the studies, though limited, in our population indicating a mortality rate at least comparable to the 65+ age group and as high as 20%.

Yes, the young and healthy population is the least likely to need hospital care. (Although new strains appear to be impacting this data, it is, for now, generally true.)

My oldest son, a Urologist with a Ph.D. in drug research and development,  is also a big advocate for vaccination, especially in healthcare and all areas where people serve the most-vulnerable.

I am sorry that the medical field is faced with potential vaccine mandates but, having a less robust response and decreased protection from my own immunizations, I hope my caregivers will take every available precaution for my protection.

In the state of Maine, healthcare workers must currently prove immunization against:

1. Rubeola (measles);
2. Mumps;
3. Rubella (German measles);
4. Varicella (chicken pox);
5. Hepatitis B; and
6. Influenza

(There are formal processes where certain healthcare workers can file for exemption or reassignment to a less-at-risk work environment)

I’m confident that if vaccines were available against VRE and MRSA, which are mostly spread in hospital environments, they would certainly be added to the list.

Again, I am so sorry a global pandemic is putting us all in these positions and dividing us. I am sorry our freedoms are being impacted as we do all we can to try to save lives and stop future mutations.

There are so many inconsistencies. Part of our society resists every attempt to limit abortion services with, “my body, my choice.” Now, many who normally dispute that rationale are using the very same argument against vaccine mandates. The slogan should be “my body, my choice depending on my personal beliefs, my circumstances, and how it impacts me.” But, that doesn’t fit on a protest sign very well.

Do we now agree that it is “my body and my choice” throughout? I don’t support that rationale in any case where human lives are at stake.

The same group that refuses vaccines with, “God will protect me,” appears to be the same demographic that fights all gun legislation saying guns are needed “to protect myself, my family and property.” Will God protect us from disease but not from break-ins? It is confusing. It seems to me that we should trust God while using wisdom to boost our personal safety using the tools available.

Most arguments are inconsistent and subjective and influenced by our personal preferences at their base.

I hate that excellent healthcare workers are leaving or realigning because of vaccine mandates. I hate that excellent teachers are being forced to make career choices. I hate that all of us in people professions are faced with difficult decisions.

I also hate seeing hospital hallways filled with gurneys because no beds are available. I hate seeing parking garage spaces transformed into overflow treatment areas and cold storage trailers rented for overflow morgue storage.

I believe that God, in his Providential care for humankind, allowed development and discovery of the most effective vaccines in history for this time. I believe that he allows discovery and advances in medicine and will glorify himself through them even though humankind has, sadly, used some of those gifts of discovery against his character and desire.

Having lived through the horrendous ordeal of a liver transplant, my selfish desire is that all who are involved in my care take every precaution against transmitting a highly-transmissable virus that kills as many as 1/5 of solid organ recipients. (

I offer all this only as an explanation for my opinions and not to denegrate those who choose to forego vaccine mandates and face realigning careers and lifestyles.

This situation is awful for all.

Posted in Liver disease | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Misinformation in the transplant community?

Did you know that my undergraduate degree is in Journalism and I actually served a stint as the editor of The Daily Maine Campus back when it came out on stone tablets? I had aspirations of being a political columnist or foreign correspondent. Eek. I’m so glad I didn’t head that way!

On my way to that degree, I spent some time studying marketing, thinking that was where I was heading, and then some time pursuing photojournalism until finally settling on the news/editorial track. I think that’s why I’m so critical of what we call “news” today and the clear bias, left or right.

I still like the process of doing a little fact-checking and checking sources. It’s a nerdy thing. Plus, since I can play around with Photoshop a bit, I even check photos whenever I think, “what? No way.”

That pic of the 30-foot boa constrictor? Nope, not real. Cat the size of a calf? Nope. People at the ocean swimming with masks? Nope, Photoshopped. There’s lots of cool photoshop magic available.

Baby Grows Beard Just Like Grampa!

That explains why I’m a little bit obsessive compulsive about this information stuff. I’m an old guy from a time when Walter Cronkite was our hero, libel cases were real, and there were consequences for bad reporting. You couldn’t just take your audience to another network. I’m old enough to remember seeing my grade drop if my personal bias was evident in my reporting or I failed to represent both sides of an issue.

I check misinformation reports on a daily basis. Today’s big viral stories that don’t stand up to scrutiny:

1) ALL PCR COVID tests were recalled for false results!

Nope, not even close. But, yes, doing what the FDA does for our protection, it reviewed the results of the Curative SARS-Cov-2 Test and found too many false results being generated. The biggest concern was FALSE NEGATIVES leaving patients untreated and the virus spreading. The manufacturer of that test quickly issued a recall. Thankfully, the FDA regularly issues reports of everything from pet foods to cheese to medications to medical devices. Now, for fun, what things do we consume or use that have no FDA testing or oversight?

2)”Vitamin B1 repels mosquitoes.”

This would be awesome if it were true. I live in Maine where mosquitoes are big enough to carry babies away. (exaggeration) Unfortunately, B1 does nothing to discourage mosquitoes. The only thing this claim appears to do is boost supplement sales. How do we know this? Remember your neighbor’s kid who spent 8 years in college to get that bug Ph.D.? They spend all day with creepy-crawlies now to see what impacts their behavior. They find no evidence that B1 does anything at all. I would not want to spend all day, day-in and day-out, with bugs.

3) Depressed Mother Tiger Adopts Piglets

2004, not in California, but at the Sriracha Tiger Zoo in Chonburi, Thailand

Aww. Have you seen this one? How sweet that a depressed mommy tiger who lost her litter, adopted a bunch of baby piglets and nursed them as her own! Except, that wasn’t what happened. Momma Tiger wasn’t depressed. The viral pictures being shared thousands of times are actually from a 2004 study at the Sriracha Tiger Zoo in Chonburi, Thailand where they wanted to see if animal mommas would feed other animal babies. A sow fed the disguised baby tigers. Why did they do this? I don’t know. Ask your neighbor’s kid who went to school forever to get that Ethology Ph.D. (animal behavior).

Giant hippos invade Maine.

4) LOCAL WARNING! Infestation of giant hippos in Gorham, Maine.

This one hasn’t gone viral yet but I have a firsthand, eyewitness report of two GIANT hippos living in a small pond off Harrison Lane. They are there with American Bullfrogs. My source, Ethan Da Beethan, told me they appear to be friendly hippos but, knowing that hippos are dangerous and aggressive from reports out of Africa, I figured I should warn you. One more thing? Ethan has no formal education and no degrees of any kind but he does watch Storybots, loves dinosaurs and is an expert on Paw Patrol so I think he’s believable. Plus, no one has proven that hippos aren’t invading Gorham so … share this information with everyone you know.

Today is NATIONAL COAST GUARD DAY. I’m thinking the Coast Guard must be slacking. How else would hippos infiltrate our state? They obviously swam here! Plus they missed the Chinese Army moving into Maine last year. (That was a funny one. Click for the bizarre story.) Come on, Coast Guard, we need you to step it up!

There you have it. Now you have some explanation for what makes me so intrigued by this crazy time we are in where we can say anything we want and present any information we want, regardless of evidence or accuracy. Qualifications no longer matter, educational achievement is unimportant and expertise is dead.

The information age has led us to this bizarre reality where the burden of proof has shifted from “prove this true” to “prove this untrue” where, if we cannot prove something untrue, it must be true. (For example: the majority of dinosaurs were rescued from the ice age by aliens from another galaxy who are now on their way back to return them because Earth is warming. Can you prove me wrong???)

Why does any of this matter in the transplant community?

Misinformation that causes us to lose trust in our transplant centers is a matter of life or death. I’m serious. I had a friend offer me some miracle, antioxidant elixir discounted to $90 a month. He counseled me to stop taking all the “dangerous chemicals poisoning” my body, including my anti-rejection prescription, and replace them with just an ounce of his elixir every day.

That’s nuts! There are studies underway to see if, under medical supervision, we can wean off our antirejection meds someday but that’s not now and certainly not without observation. Still, my friend was so confident in his product and his hate for Big Pharma that he truly believed my drugs were killing me at worst or, at least, keeping me a slave to the “lie of modern medicine.”

In the midst of this global pandemic that has killed millions, false information, snippets taken out of context and blatant lies are actively undermining the confidence we have in the very doctors and medical processes that saved our lives through transplant. Some in our transplant communities are refusing vaccination against COVID and buying into the anti-vaxx propoganda. That risk is bad enough for healthy individuals but for those of us with suppressed immune systems it is a HUGE risk that could cost us our lives. What’s worse is that some in our transplant communities are now actively joining the fight against vaccines even within our fragile circles.

Unfortunately, this entire pandemic was, and continues to be, politicized. The top medical minds in our country, many of them known personally to we who were fortunate enough to have them intervene on our behalf, are united in urging vaccination for all, especially solid organ transplant recipients.

If you believe in them enough to have them cut into you, cut out an organ and sew in a donated one, why would you refuse to believe them now when it comes to vaccines?

Posted in End Stage Liver Disease, Lahey Clinic, NASH, organ donation, Organ transplant | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Do you trust your doctor? Your transplant center?

I trust my transplant team with my life. If it recommends something, I do it. If it says to avoid something, boom, it’s dead to me. Why wouldn’t I? These people, with their multiple years of education and training, plus their demonstrated expertise, saved my life.

It was just 32 years ago when the first successful living donor liver transplant like mine happened. I was 26 and had two kids. It was not long ago.

When this COVID mess hit, I went into hiding with my family and then, when Lahey Beth Israel called in January and said I should come get a vaccine, we jumped in the car and drove 105 miles with no hesitation. Three weeks later, we did it again. I got my shots right after all the medical people and I WAS PSYCHED! Why? I trust my transplant team.

If you are a transplant recipient and have been ignoring the guidance of your transplant center on vaccines, may I ask what other parts of its guidance you are choosing to ignore? Are you taking your anti-rejection drugs? Why? Staying clear of booze? Why? Because you trust your team.

I encourage you to get vaccinated as soon as possible. Why put your gift, your life at risk?If you are thinking your transplant team told you not to get the vaccine, call again to be sure. Some are remembering conversations of caution back when vaccines were still in the testing stages. That has all changed.

Your docs spent YEARS of their lives studying how the human body works. Some of them have both MD and PhD degrees, long residencies and focused fellowships of training. Their qualifications are undeniable. Please don’t discount their counsel for your 8-10 hours of reading one anecdotal account after another that people now call “research.”

It’s unfortunate that vaccines and treatment have been politicized in America. The Big Pharma, money-hungry, arguments fail to mention how quickly alternate, unregulated, homeopathic treatments are approach the level of a 100 billion dollar industry. This is the USA. Most everything comes down to money. But, all that is really unimportant for us in the long run. We need to trust our transplant centers. They want us to succeed. They want us to be well. In fact, their rankings depend on our success!

Please get the vaccine. If you are unsure, ask your transplant center what their recommendation is. If you are not newly transplanted and you think they are not endorsing vaccinations, double-check. When a doctor says, “it’s your choice,” ask for their opinion. It is your choice. When a doc says that, it does not mean they are against you getting the vaccine.

I received both doses of the Moderna vaccine with my second being on February 19. I had no side effects that I could pinpoint. Fatigue? Maybe, but I often have tiredness and achy joints. I sailed through with no problems at all. I expect I will need a booster since we immunocompromised had a “less robust response” to the vaccine, as expected.

When my transplant center says it is time, I’ll be making that 105 mile drive again to get my shot and a piece of Cheesecake Factory cheesecake as a chaser.

Posted in Liver disease | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Why masks actually work

By Scott Linscott

I’ve been spending a good deal of time doing some vaccine advocacy work and trying to answer misinformation with facts, hoping to maybe make an impact here and there.

Being a solid organ transplant survivor, I have been pretty restricted for the past year. This COVID thing is a very big threat to people like me. So, I’ve been trying to make the most of my time by trying to educate.

Recently, I’ve heard and read the same misinformation about face masks numerous times. It claims that the number of COVID deaths in the United States is proof that masks do not work.

If my roof leaks does it means all shingles are useless and I should remove them all? Masks do work and have worked. Without masks, distancing and attention to hygiene we would have been looking at deaths in the millions by now. Only 60% of Americans report consistent masks use.

Isn’t the COVID virus small enough to pass through masks? Yes! Except the virus cannot travel on it’s own. It needs a vehicle to travel. That vehicle is our respiratory droplets.

Non-aerosal respiratory droplets, according to measurable and readily provable standards, range between 5-10 micrometers (µm) . The COVID virus molecules, which require a vehicle for transmission, have a diameter ranging range between 50 nm to 140 nm.

Because there are 1000 nm in 1 micrometer, a respiratory droplet is MUCH larger. Those droplets are what masks are able to trap.

Think of it as a tractor trailer truck that is 14-feet tall trying to go under a 12-foot train trestle. Yes, all the boxes in the truck could easily fit under the bridge on their own but they need a vehicle to move. The masks are like the bridge, the droplets are the truck and the boxes it contains are the virus.

This why masks are effective. They stop the vehicle that carries the virus.

I will get my second vaccine on Friday at my transplant center and regain so much of my freedom. I can’t wait! But, some surveys show that as many as 30% of Americans are either frightened or unwilling to be vaccinated. That’s due to an endless stream of bad science, no science and misinformation (lies).

Maybe I will tackle some of that in another post. For now, mask up and help get the spread under control while we get millions vaccinated.

Posted in Liver disease | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

FOC, I need you

Such a powerful image. Photograph by ?

By Scott Linscott
I can’t imagine. I have no idea. Though I try my hardest to listen and seek to understand, and though I read the right books and listen to the recommended speakers, my own experience colors my conclusions and my feelings.

Please be patient with me, friends of color. Gently confront me to let me know when my speech and actions cross painful lines. Teach me. Tell me. Be a safe space where I can ask any question. Help pull open my eyes to the things I do not see. I need your grace if I am ever to understand. Please don’t give up on me. I know you do not owe me this patience.

I am for you. When human beings devalue, subjugate and oppress other human beings, I feel deeply. My hope is that those feelings trigger action toward change. I will continue to push with you because I actually, honestly believe that all people are created equal by God, even though many misrepresent that same God and warp His words for their own advancement and position.

When I took these photos at National Center for Civil and Human Rights in Atlanta, I was stirred. I sat at a counter set up to look like a diner from 1960 and tried to play the role of a peaceful civil rights protestor. The very idea that people were once kept from sitting at a lunch counter because of the color of their skin had me disgusted before I even took my place on on one of the stools to begin the simulation. I placed the headphones over my ears, put my hands on the counter, closed my eyes and tried to endure the increasingly horrific verbal abuse endured by the people who lived it. The entire time, I kept reminding myself, “this isn’t real…this is only a museum.” It was when something within said, “Scott, this was real … this is still real” that I broke. I took off the headphones, opened my tear-filled eyes and one of the attendants handed me a tissue and told me, “take all the time you need.”

Only a handful of historical displays, settings and simulations have raised such emotion in me. One was when I sat in the spot where archeologists and historians tell us Roman prisoners were beaten in Jerusalem before crucifixion. Another was at the 9/11 museum in New York City where my emotions shut down and disconnected at the halfway point. I was overwhelmed at the Vietnam War Memorial Wall and the amount of pain it communicated. And then, I added the National Center for Civil and Human Rights to my list in February 2020.

The Atlanta Center helped me better understand the history my brothers and sisters of color here in the United States and made me more aware of the global struggle for human rights that demands our attention and our action. If you visit Atlanta, go.

Today we mark the birthday of Martin Luther King Jr. We will talk about all that he accomplished through his call for change through non-violence. We will change our profile pics and cover photos and we will tweet pithy quotes.

But, more than that, I’m hoping for greater understanding and lasting change where all humans are valued and treated equal.

I will listen. I will write. I will vote. I will support. I will be part of that lasting change.

Posted in Liver disease | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

“Family friendly” Black Cap mountain hike. I was pretty sure I was going to need an airlift rescue.

What a year 2020 has been. While we have all had to cut back on our outings and travels, we Linscotts have enjoyed more of the outdoors. We even climbed a New Hampshire mountain! But, “Home for the Holidays” is a fitting theme for the few cards we will mail and this digital “card” on the Internet.

We’re not an outdoorsy family. We are not campers, or hunters and you won’t find us fishing in a backwoods pond. For the most part, our idea of roughing it is staying in a hotel without a smart TV. But I must admit, it has been nice picnicking near rivers and finding trail networks. We’ve spent more time enjoying the small circle of our awesome neighborhood and even hosted movies on our front lawn.

Apple picking

    Robin and I are very thankful that Shara, Jake, Emma and Ethan moved into our basement apartment after selling their house in January. A planned short stay while they built their new house has turned into a much longer stay because of the pandemic grinding everything to a halt. They might feel stuck here but we are so blessed to have them with us. While my transplant recipient status has severely limited my options, Emma and Ethan have kept me sane and smiling. The Grooms have land but are on hold for a bit while everything comes together and builders get caught up.
   Having the Little Ave Linscotts a half mile away has also been a lifeline during the times we’ve not been locked down. Our adventuring group is usually 9 unless Doctor Daddy has been able to join us. In his third year of residency, Josh’s schedule is difficult. We look forward to years 4 and 5 when he gets to have a better schedule. (Yes, Urologists have 5 years of residency instead of the normal 3 and then have a 2-year fellowship after that.) Kristen and Josh are expecting another baby boy in February. We’re so excited!

    Jake and Laura are doing well through all of the pandemic changes and their jobs are stable, thankfully. We see them from time-to-time, mostly when we can gather outside.

    We were so blessed that our church family was able to gather outside, in our city’s beautiful park setting, enjoying beautiful weather every Sunday July-October. It has been so encouraging to see how God has enabled us to shift gears quickly to meet the growing needs in our community. Our faith family inspires and blesses us so much. We’re about to enter year 8 at FBC Westbrook.

My health has been good with a new challenge here and there. Thankfully, my transplanted liver is healthy and strong. This additional 20 pounds of COVID weight is not good and needs to go. But, every day is a bonus day!

    We are all praying that 2021 will be a better year for all of us but, one thing we know for sure, God will give us the strength to face whatever is ahead! You know that, right?

    Much Love! Scott and Robin Linscott

Jake, Shara, Emma and Ethan
Jake and Laura
Josh, Calvin, Chloe and Kristen

Posted in Liver disease | 2 Comments

I remember when I didn’t have enough breath to speak …

By Scott Linscott

It was December 2011 when my diseased liver was threatening my life. Ascites fluid filled every cavity and made me look like I was 10 months pregnant. Doctors stuck needles into my lung cavity and my abdomen to drain off liters of fluid. My lungs did not have enough room to expand and speaking in full sentences was difficult.

I remember begging God to save my life and heal me so that I could keep preaching and teaching. I remember telling him that my condition made absolutely no sense to me. All I could do was write a blog that sometimes barely made sense because of the fluid in my brain causing hepatic encephalopathy.

Since 1888 in Westbrook, Maine

“Yes, Lord, I’m ready to come home, but why? There’s still so much I want to do here. There are people who have no idea who you are. There are hungry children. I’m not ready to pack it in and head home yet. Please let me stay. Please let me speak for you again.”

I never wanted a giant church with grand productions. I had no desire to have my name on the front sign or printed on letterhead, cards, or books. I didn’t want to be the speaker at the next big conference. I begged God for just the chance to do life with a group of people who wanted to follow him and dared to trust. A garage with folding chairs? A living room with people squished together on the couch? A restaurant space?

“What if we got five families to sell our houses and all buy houses in that new development so we could meet all those new families? What if we hung out on the lawn?”

Robin listened to plenty of my crazy dreams and would say, “okay, if that’s where you feel God is leading us, we’ll go.”

God answered our prayers. My son gave me 60% of his liver on May 7, 2012, and, after a difficult year of recovery, I found myself speaking to just a few dozen people in a traditional, old, New England style church building in July of 2013. It was a church facing some very large challenges and facing its own mortality. I shared my story of God’s faithfulness.

Robin went to the church we were attending that morning since she had responsibilities serving there. When we met back at home, I shook my head and told her, “I don’t think that church is going to make it.” I remember feeling sad.

Today, seven years later, you can find me most Sunday mornings, teaching from the front with no shortage of air in my lungs. God has brought families back into the rows and assembled people who are unafraid of impossible challenges. He has allowed us to be part of a Philippians 1 type of church family where I can say, as Paul said, “I thank God for your partnership in the gospel.”

It is a church family where Grace compels us to live out the mission Jesus left to his followers. It is a congregation of less than 100 on most Sunday mornings that the Lord has used to renovate and restore a Noah’s Ark school in third-world poverty in Guatemala. It is a small congregation that furnishes the homes of our new neighbors who are starting over in recovery, are recent arrivals to the United States, or are victims of domestic violence rebuilding their broken worlds. It is a church that hands out 3000+ free, home-cooked meals each year and gave tight hugs to all who needed them before COVID distanced us and turned us into drive-up meals only. It is a church that will have distributed 92,000+ pounds of USDA food boxes by mid-December to families facing food insecurity.

Me? I just shake my head at how massively God answered my desperate 2011 prayers and allowed me to be part of what he is doing in Westbrook. I am thankful for what he has built here. It looks so much like Jesus: simple, consistent, quiet, humble. It’s nothing fancy like more modern buildings. Here since 1888, it is somewhat like a rough stable welcoming the Good News that was announced first to some of the lowliest members of society. Our little family of Jesus followers will probably never attract those looking for polished performance, comfort or perfection, nor will it hold much appeal to those who prefer to gather for a weekly pep-talk without calls for action or selfless living. But, that’s okay.

Nine years after my desperate prayers, I am thanking God for plopping us down in the middle of this former mill town. Yes, this COVID mess has us facing big challenges as a church, but we are doing our best to learn how to do things online while and even increasing the ways we try to meet the growing needs around us. The financial spreadsheets look discouraging but we’re sure God has a plan for that. We will remain faithful to our call for as long as He allows.

If you have the means and God prompts you to be part of his supply for his plans here in Westbrook, Maine, please consider partnering with us at or text “GIVE” to 207-600-2777. (Mail: FBC Westbrook, 733 Main St., Westbrook, ME 04092.) If you are one who looks forward to Giving Tuesday to make annual gifts, we could definitely use your help.

If you have needs, like so many in this pandemic, let me know. We can at least pray with you and for you. If you are local, we’ll be distributing another thousand food boxes from our parking lot the next two Thursdays of that could help. We have some furniture and a few coats and hats left. We have some emergency kits for people you know who are without shelter and have collected some winter sleeping bags. Just let us know? You don’t have to go through this alone.

God is good. He has given me a life beyond the life I prayed for and has supplied all my needs. I know He will do the same for you if you, like those shepherds on the hill, go to look for him. In fact, if you’re local, I invite you to come seek him with us.

Posted in Liver disease | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Too much to ask?

I need me some Mickey Mouse.

By Scott Linscott

Here’s what I need, America. I need an empty, clean airport and an empty plane to take me to another empty airport where I can pick up my clean rental car with no human interaction. Then, I need Walt Disney World to open Magic Kingdom just for me. Is that too much to ask?

Robin, my wife? The reality is that she might soon be too much of a risk for me to bring if the virus numbers in Maine keep climbing. She’s a teacher. She doesn’t know it but I’m looking for a good deal on a cot for the garage and a winter sleeping bag for her.

What about all the Disney employees, you ask? Of course, they must all quarantine right there in their stations for 14 days before my arrival. Again, too much to ask?

How’s it going for you? I haven’t been in a Walmart, or any big store, since March 12. That’s 244 days. I went inside one little hardware store for a quick errand once. Do stores have anything new? What would I impulse buy? I’d probably buy one of those 10 gallon jugs of cheese balls.

We ate outside on the deck of a golf course restaurant once this summer, back when Maine was one of the safest places in the world. I ate a rubin sandwich. Oh man, was it good! Yesterday I read that Maine now has the highest transfer rate in the country at 1.43. That means every person who gets Corona gives it to and average of another one-and-a-half other people. It’s called “community spread.” I am not sure where they find .43 of a person, but I am not a scientist.

We had a big election. It was fascinating to watch. I flipped between 4 news stations to compare coverage styles because, having my undergrad degree in Journalism, I am a bit of a nerd in that area. I prefer the BBC because, in my opinion, the major American outlets have become mere arms of ideologies. Back when I got my BA it was very, very bad to be openly biased, but now, it’s just the norm.

I had an appointment with my liver transplant doc on Monday. We decided it was best to do it by telephone. It lasted about 7 minutes because all my blood numbers are perfect and, other than all my whiny complaints, I feel great. We set my next appointment for October 2021. Thank Corona that I didn’t put in 200+ miles of driving for that!

We transplant recipients have been through all these cautions before. Our houses have had hand sanitizer on the kitchen islands since back when Corona was just a type of beer.

Anyway, I’m going a little bit crazy. Other than being naughty on Thursdays, when our church hands out food boxes, I pretty much only mingle with the same 10 people who know all my jokes.

I figure that Mickey Mouse is someone wearing a huge mask so he’s safe. Heck, the same goes for Pluto and Goofy and Minnie and the Tweedle brothers too. I can go hang out with them, right?

Where do I start? Should I call Mickey directly? Should I call JetBlue? I have a lot of details to coordinate.

Is there anywhere I can go to escape this mess? I’d like to go to Guatemala November 28 when our oldest AMG girl is getting married. Nope. Flights to Dubai are cheap and luxury hotels are $40 a night but Robin vetoed that one too.

Disney is my most realistic option. I’m thinking I could be in for a long winter.

Posted in Liver disease | 2 Comments

Some things confuse me.

By Scott Linscott

No one calls me “Nana.”

I’ve been given a stuffy to take care of this morning. I am not supposed to put him down. Meanwhile, loud Lego construction work is happening on the floor nearby. I don’t know why I am responsible for Puppy. I wonder if this is a paying gig.

No one calls me, “Nana.” My coffee mug is a lie. It’s a big mug so I am okay with this lie. Generally, I dislike lies unless they are my own lies. We all are fond of and very protective of our own lies. It’s confusing.

Shouldn’t “menopause”be called “womenopause?” Men don’t go through it. I mean, we don’t go through it unless we are married to a little furnace that switches on and off without warning.

Cats’ purring confuses me. Did phone makers discover the secret to cat purring when they invented vibrate mode?

I find it ironic that gas stations sell cigarettes when they are so firmly against smoking and have signs everywhere.

I’m confused by cargo on ships and shipments on train cars and trucks. Shouldn’t shipments be on ships and truckgo be on trucks and cargo come by train cars?

I’m confused by some work stoppages. For example, if sign makers go on strike, who makes their picket signs?

7-up? What happened to the first six? Why seven? Did 3-up taste gross?

If police arrest a mine, do they tell them they have the right to remain silent? Is it necessary?

Bagpipes confuse me. How does one know when her bagpipes are out of tune? What led to their invention? Did someone unintentionally squeeze a bag of cats and think it sounded awesome?

Self-help groups confuse me.

I wonder how much deeper oceans would be if sponges went extinct?

“He has egg on his face,” is a confusing expression as is “he has to eat his words” and “getting a serving of humble pie.” I’m hearing those pretty frequently this weekend. I can’t see any trace of egg and there are no pictures of words being eaten. I want to know what humble pie looks like because I am usually a big fan of pie and have a difficult time believing any pie is bad. I’ve never met a pie I didn’t like.

Nonetheless, there are quite a few political people getting tough lessons in empathy this weekend and eggs, pie and word-eating are making their way into newsprint and social media.

I try my best to be sad when people are sad and glad when people are glad but I have to admit that I kind of like it when mean people hit tough times. I want bullies to take a beating. When someone passes me doing 95 mph, I kind of hope there’s a trooper ahead. I want them to get what I think they deserve.

Judgement and justice are confusing. I want both for others but want grace and mercy for myself. I’m hypocritical.

The current political climate in America, the outrage, and the conflict has me finding a lot of ugliness in my mirror. I want to reflect the personality and character of my Jesus and am doing my darndest to have self-control, but ugliness is bubbling just below the surface.

The emotions are confusing but my instructions, my code for how I choose to live are clear …

put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.  And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts

Colossians 3:14-15

I’m getting spiritually and mentally dressed this morning, struggling to get my giant, ego-swelled, selfish head through this head-hole in my Jesus sweater of love as I attempt to “put on love” and let peace rule in my heart.

Put on love. It looks good on both of us.


Posted in Liver disease | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

I wonder stuff …

By Scott Linscott

                           September 21 frost.

I wonder how many individual wood pellets come in a ton? If you haven’t seen wood pellets, they look like rabbit food pellets but they are made of sawdust and mill scraps. We burn them in a wood-stove thing to stay warm in the cold season. In Maine, the cold season is about 8 months per year.

I wonder why the word “cold” means “brr” and “cough cough achoo.” I have both types of cold this morning and pellets are burning.

I wonder what all the New England Patriots haters are thinking now that they’ve seen the new look without Brady. And, I wonder what this year’s division champion t-shirts will look like.

I wonder if cereal is actually breakfast soup.

If animals could talk, I wonder which ones would be the most rude? I definitely think that cats would be the rudest. I’d tell you what I think cats are saying but I try to avoid using profanity for the most part.

Sometimes I wonder what my daughter’s Golden Retriever is thinking. I suspect she has a five word vocabulary: “food, in, out, play, people.” The first four are obvious but the last one might be her favorite. Bailey wants to meet every human she sees and drags us to them. When she sees a people she responds with the strength of a Fryeburg Fair oxen team.

It’s okay 9 out of every 10 times but when we meet weird people who don’t like dogs it gets downright awkward.

I wonder what Pompom is saying when she runs at other dogs barking her 11-pound head off. I know she is either yelling, “hi, friend” or “hey, what’s your name? Can I sniff your ears? Want to chase me? I like chase games. Is this your human? These are my humans. Want to come see my house?”

Unfortunately, her tone is more like, “I am coming to kill you. I am a mighty warrior. You should fear 11-pound me!” She needs a gentle but firm punt.

If I had a big dog and a little dog came running at him, I would let nature take its course. She really needs a big dog to give her a lesson in respect. She has forgotten old man Manny. He was an old chocolate lab who put her whole head in his mouth and sat her down.

I wonder why it has been 10-20 degrees below normal here in Maine? I wonder where I file my complaint?

I wonder why voters respond to all the “she’s the devil” advertising that both sides play continually. I think all it does is convince us all that both candidates are the devil.

I  wonder why some people are all nervous about the government getting access to pictures of our faces when we use online facial recognition. Have none of these people heard of state IDs, drivers’ licenses and passports?

I wonder when our pellet delivery is going to happen today. All I know is that they are coming today. Morning? Afternoon? I have no idea. All I received was the message that they are coming today. If only we had some type of device where we could put in an address and get an estimated time of arrival. If only that device was then able to, say, send some sort of instant message to say, “your delivery will arrive at approximately…” Imagine what a world it would be if we had such technology.  If I jump into the shower they will arrive at that moment, for sure.

We had a great weekend and got lots of stuff done in preparation for winter. Robin made ice cream with neighborhood kids and sent it home with them so I wouldn’t eat it. Phew! Church in the Park was awesome yesterday. And, believe it or not, I actually gave one of the neighborhood kids a tennis lesson Saturday morning. I think it’s been 20 years since I last hit a tennis ball!

I hope you have a great Monday and are able to resist being dragged into the culture of rage that is our current reality. Look for the good and focus on that.


Posted in Liver disease | 1 Comment