Difficult Seasons

I received this the other day from my friend Allen Thyssen.  Normally I wouldn’t just cut and paste, but this article is so good I want you to get to read it, and it’s not possible for me to just link to it.  I’ve done a little editing to make sure the folks involved can’t be identified.

The following posting was made by the daughter of a cancer patient who is currently in ICU.  It is a touching testimony to the value of a ‘ministry of presence.’  Please pass it on as you see fit. (Allen)

Update…well we are about the same.  We are just waiting to see if the liver will decide to get to work.  As we sit here with broken hearts we see just how merciful God is.  Even with all of this going on we received a good word from an unsuspecting source.  We were going through a difficult time and I guess this individual could hear me crying.  He comes up and says “I know I am a total stranger but I just wanted you to know I am here for you”.  Then his first question was “does your father know the Lord?”  We then began talking and he said “if we spent as much time praying for lost people as we did to keep the saved here with us…what a different world it would be”.  This fact has been evidenced by dad and his life.  If you remember, just a few days ago dad was witnessing to his nurse.

We then learned his grand-daughter has been fighting cancer,  and in the last 7 years she has had 11 surgeries.

While his grand-daughter is in ICU facing additional surgeries he took the time to reach out and comfort me.   I want to take the time to thank this man.  I don’t even know his name but God sent him to comfort me at just the right time.

It was just strange.  Today’s visits at the hospital had a theme — the support of family and friends is precious.

As I went from patient to patient, the theme just jumped out.

It started with a patient getting ready for a stem cell transplant talking about how important his support network of friends and family are.  When we got ready to pray, he asked me to pray specifically for them, because they were going to be doubly important to him in the coming weeks.

I visited with a woman struggling with cancer whose daughter and son-in-law had come in from out of town to be with her.  The woman was struggling with news of her condition, as was her daughter.  But they were together.

In another room, I visited with with a couple who had only been in the country a few months.  He was dying, and they had no family or friends in the country to provide support, only a fellow employee.  I was thankful for this man providing support to this couple during an incredibly difficult time.

Then as I was getting a glass of tea in the cafeteria, I ran into a couple I had visited with many times in the past.  He helped her with her food as we sat and visited.  And we talked about how important having each other is.

What I observed today is no surprise to anyone who has been through a tough time.  Family and friends play a valuable, supportive role.  And when they’re not available, or don’t exisit, things are just more difficult.

With this background, maybe there are a couple of points to think about:

1.  If you are currently estranged from family and/or friends, now is the time to heal those relationships.  There will come a time when they need you or you need them.

2.  Don’t wait to let your family and friends know what’s going on when you enter a difficult season.  Let them into your situation, and help them understand how they can provide the support you need.

3.  Don’t be afraid to reach out to provide support to those who may be without family and friends.

So, who’s going to be there for you?  And who are you going to be there for?  Two very important questions to consider as we experience life together.

Tweet from Mary DeMuth

Sometimes you see a phrase, and it sticks in your mind.  And replays again and again.

“I feel full and empty all at once.”

Earlier Mary DeMuth had written on Twitter a post that explains this one.  She had finished her latest book, but at about the same time, her stepdad’s wife died.  Full, and empty.

Because I’d read the first tweet,  I understood the second.  And it started me thinking about times I’ve felt the plurality of emotions.

The ones I thought of were a little different.   So happy that my Granny Hughes was no longer trapped in her body devastated by Lou Gehrig’s disease, so sad because this once vibrant woman was gone.  So happy that my mom was in a new body, not one which had quit functioning because of liver cancer, but sad that she wasn’t here to talk to, to share life with.  And I’ve got more examples.

It’s fascinating that our hearts can hold such polar emotions together at the same time.

What can you add to the conversation that Mary started in my mind?  I bet you have some examples from your own life, times when you’ve felt full and empty all at once.

And you’ll also want to check out Mary DeMuth’s website as well!

“I can’t believe God brought me through all of this (describing past crises) to let this cancer end my life.” cancer patient

“I can’t believe God would…” or something like it is a phrase that all of us use from time to time as we try to make sense of what’s happening in our lives.  Our reasoning is based on what we know, what we feel, and what we want.

The phrase that fires in my mind when I hear someone else utter that phrase is, “But I can believe God would, because I’ve seen it in the lives of other faithful people.”

I don’t say it out loud, of course.  I’m not there to batter hope, or to argue theology, as if I was qualified.  But there’s this conflict in our minds because our experience, our logic, our understanding informs us that while sometimes God saves us from tragedy, sometimes He doesn’t.  None of us can explain why, just as none of us can explain God.

I spent some serious time yesterday in conversations with people who were being forced to confront the fact that their disease might prematurely end their lives.  They might not get to see their children grow up, or their grandchildren grow up.  They might not get to grow old with their spouses.  Their (our) dream for this life might not be realized.

These were people with deep faith, a faith we share.  A couple of them used a variation of the opening phrase of this post, giving voice to their struggle to understand what was happening and God’s place in it, voicing hope against long odds that God has another plan for them.

We are all mortal.  But we don’t like it.  All those we love are also mortal, as I’ll be reminded again today when Dad and I go to visit Mom’s grave.  But we don’t like that either.

This life, with all it’s struggles, is precious.  The lives of those we love are precious.  Getting to see kids grow up, to see grand kids grow up, to grow old with our spouse is precious.

Yet because of our mortality, we don’t always get to experience these joys.  Disease, an accident, or the willful act of another can change all of that in an instant, or in a year.

I do express my desires to God for safety, for protection, for long life — for me, for those I love, even often for strangers.  I believe that He absolutely can provide that, and I get to see times when I’m convinced that He has done that against all odds.  But it doesn’t happen all the time, in every situation.

So, like the patients I visited yesterday, I struggle with the thought, “I can’t believe God would…”  It’s not a lack of faith, but more an admission of my lack of understanding His ways.

I’m okay with that struggle because I know, whether He chooses to change the events of this life or not, that He’s made a piece of us immortal, a piece of us that will live forever without the effects of the disease, the accident, or the results of a willful act of another.  And for that I’m so very grateful.

The husband of one of the patients I visited today remarked that all you have to do is walk around the hospital pod to find folks that are dealing with more difficult things than you are.

I hear that statement often. In part, it’s a way to deal with what’s happening to them. When what you’re going through is difficult, it somehow helps to recognize that others are struggling with stuff that is just as difficult or even more so.

There’s another side to this reality, though. When you spend time at a major cancer treatment center, you see a lot of good people dealing with really difficult life situations. What I witness in my weekly visits never fails to be a sobering reminder that life as we like to think of it can be rudely interrupted at any moment in time. I’m also impressed each week that there are huge numbers of people dealing with these interruptions. And I know from experience that for many of these people, these interruptions will not end well.

It’s this weekly dose of reality that reminds me that this world we live in is deeply flawed. Disease flourishes, damages, kills. I’m sure that a regular experience in the criminal justice system provides similar reminders of the flawed nature of this world. And you can probably think of other situations that equally provide this same reminder.

Life on this earth, as precious as it is, is not perfect. Which is why I’m so thankful that our God has given us something perfect to look forward to.