Difficult Seasons

Life is Fragile

Prentice Meador died at 6:08 Tuesday morning.  What started out on Thursday night as a sore throat and fever turned to a raging infection and complete organ failure within 24 hours.  Despite valiant efforts throughout the weekend and Monday, his body and modern medicine couldn’t defeat a tiny bug.

I didn’t know Meador except by reputation.  He was an exceptional preacher and church leader, and highly respected.  My only interaction with him came a few years back when I was trying to promote an idea and wrote to a couple of dozen prominate ministers.  Meador was the one who actually wrote me back, and for that I was grateful.

Our grandson Ben caught a similar nasty bug about 18 months ago.  After 11 days in ICU, the valiant efforts of medical personnel, and several things I can only credit as God things, Ben left the hospital completely recovered, and with no after-effects.

Like you, I know that life is fragile.  Like you, I know that sometimes good people get nasty illnesses and die.  Like you, I know that sometimes good people get nasty illnesses and survive.  I don’t understand why.  I just know things work this way.

As Thanksgiving comes this year, I am thankful beyond any words I’ll ever be able to find that Ben survived his bout with the nasty bug.  His presence in our lives is a radiance I can’t imagine being without.

Yet I’m also mindful of the huge hole in so many lives this Thanksgiving that Meador’s passing leaves, because they can’t imagine their lives without his radiance.

I’m mindful that as you’re reading this, that you’re likely in the same boat as I am as Thanksgiving rolls around.  There have been some wins in your life, and there have been some losses.

May God accept my thanksgiving I can’t put words to for the wins.  And may He accept my grieving for those who have gone on before as thanksgiving also, for my grieving is my expression of how important these folks were/are in my life.

Today I saw pain.

Not the pain that powerful chemicals can dull.

But the pain that so often we hide from others.  The pain that comes from having our normal lives ruthlessly interrupted.  The pain that comes from not being able to do those important things that we often take for granted.  The pain that hurts all over, yet whose source can’t be seen on a PET scan.

For one person, it was pain from not being able to provide care for her husband and her 94-year old mother, instead having to focus everything on her one hope to add years to her life in a battle with an unrelenting disease.

For another, it was a still two-week-fresh devastating diagnosis, and the fight of his life, for his life.

And for another, it was recurrance of a nasty cancer that had been gone for 13 months, that remission itself against huge odds.

They allowed me the special privilege of seeing what they hide most of the time from most people.  They allowed me to connect with them in a special way, in a special place.  And I’m honored by their trust.

We talked about how precious hope is, how important the opportunity to fight is.  We prayed to the One who has the power to heal for healing.  And I prayed to the One who has the power to remove their non-physical pain to do so for each of them.

Thanksgiving Dinner

The Thanksgiving – Christmas holiday season is almost always really tough for those suffering loss.

These are family times, filled with family traditions, family gatherings, and family memories.  So a loss, whether it’s a death, broken relationships, a critical illness, a job loss, or something else, sticks out like a sore thumb.  It’s painful for everyone involved.

Part of the pain is the awkwardness of family gatherings.  The old normal is gone.

Often it’s hard for everyone involved to know how to handle the time together.  Do you risk bringing everyone down by talking about it?  Or do you just try to ignore that something has happened in hopes that you can get through the time together?

What do you do with the elephant in the middle of the room?

Everyone has to do what works for them and their family dynamics.  But here are a couple of ideas to get you started thinking about it:

• Some friends of ours set an extra two chairs at their Thanksgiving table, one for a dad who had recently passed, and one for a mom in the final stages of Alzheimer’s.  It’s their way of acknowledging the losses while asserting their continuing presence in spirit.
• We have made expressing some words of thanks for our parents who have gone on ahead a part of our own family Thanksgiving tradition.  It’s our way of acknowledging their continuing importance to our family.

I bet some of you have developed your own ways to deal with this time.  It would be great if you’d share them in the comments.

Writing Tool

I was reminded as I read Jon Swanson’s post about Fran how important it is to many of us to be able to write about our losses.  Jon’s post in turn reminded me of a recent post by Jeremy Barrett about the tragic death of his friend.

For many of us, writing is an important part of how we process life.  It’s how we get the stuff swirling around inside to make sense.  It’s how we express what’s in our hearts.  It often brings clarity.  It’s part of sensemaking because of the way we’re wired.

We are people who can hardly wait to be able to sit down and write about something that’s going on in our lives, something that needs words that can be seen.  With the advent of blogs, this is where we often do our writing.  That has the additional benefit of allowing others to share what we’re feeling, to see into our hearts, to see into the lives of those we’re losing or have lost.

I understood immediately where Jon was today when he twittered about figuring out why he was tired today — a good friend was dying.  I also understood when he added that he would write about it soon.

Does writing work for you?  How do you process loss?

Five Things

My buddy Virgil Fry, Executive Director of Lifeline Chaplaincy, has been collecting statements hospital patients would rather not hear over his 25 years of chaplaincy.  Here are a few of my favorites from his list:

1.  “Wow!  Look at all the flowers in here.  Looks like you’re getting ready for a funeral!”

2.  “Did you know that massive doses of vitamins could have prevented that?”

3.  “I’d have come sooner, but I didn’t know that you were this bad.”

4.  “At least you’re getting a break from the kids.”

5.  “I can’t believe I had to pay to park just to see you.”

I bet you’ve heard some other statements that should be added to the list.  Fire away in the comments.