Difficult Seasons

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.

Buttons to Match Your Outfit

As I drove home from visiting folks at M. D. Anderson this evening, the phrase that rang in my ears was one I heard a patient say this afternoon: “Cancer sucks.”  He had every right to say it.  And part of the reason it stuck in my mind was that some of the folks that I saw today had been ravaged by their particular brand of cancer.

This is not a word normally in my spoken vocabulary.  I shocked my whole family one day when I said it.  That’s because of the ambiguous meanings associated with the word.  So I want to make clear which definition this man meant, and the one that is used in the headline of this post.

Definition:  (colloquial) Term of general disparagement, to indicate that the subject or situation is unfortunately or unreasonably objectionable, and has no redeeming qualities.

That pretty much sums it up where cancer is concerned, at least physically.  But it’s also often true emotionally.  I do often get to see healthy spirituality alive in cancer victims, and I’m thankful for that.

There are no pretty words that describe cancer.  Saying cancer is unfortunate or even unreasonably objectionable doesn’t seem to communicate cancer’s effects very well either.  To say that cancer has no redeeming qualities seems like an unreasonably objectionable understatement.

Sorry, but I think we’re stuck with a colloquial word that is found objectionable in some circles.  But at least it honestly communicates some of the physical and emotional toll cancer exacts.  So yes, cancer sucks.

And if you want to wear a button or tee shirt proclaiming it, it’s fine with me.

Garage 10

I’ve been thinking about parking garages this week.

Sunday, the family gathered at First Colony Town Center for lunch.  After lunch, I went with my 84-year old dad to his car to get some documents, and ended up having to direct traffic to help him get backed out.

It’s a busy garage, with people coming and going and in a hurry to get parked and get on with what they’re doing.  Dad actually did a good job backing out and getting going.  But I couldn’t help but notice the impatience of the folks who had to wait for him to do it.  Frankly, I was a little angry with them.  My dad’s ability to drive himself is precious to him, as it is to the rest of us, and if he needs a few seconds more to maneuver out of his parking place, that seems a small price for the rest of us to pay.

On Monday, I parked in Garage 10 at M. D. Anderson.  It’s an even larger garage, with 12 stories plus roof parking, and each level holding hundreds of cars.  I parked on 11, an indication of how busy the hospital was.  I thought about the people who park there who are patients, many not feeling good, who must navigate getting to and from their vehicles, backing out, and going through the pay stations.

Sometimes in Garage 10 there will be a car driving slower than the rest of us want to go.  Wouldn’t it be good if I’d just think about that person and show grace?  They may be overwhelmed by being in such a big place, or they may not be feeling their best and just trying to get it done.  Other times, someone will have trouble getting their car to fit in a space.  Wouldn’t it be good if I just sat patiently and gave them time?  And sometimes, wouldn’t it be good if I’d stop and let someone back out when I see their brake lights come on?  Those moments could even be used for prayer.

Like the people I was angry with Sunday, I have some of what my dad calls “ME FIRST!” in me.  I’m working on it, trying to become more of a “You First” person.  It sure doesn’t come naturally, though.  But it’s part of the living-upside-down life that God calls us to.  And I know that Dad and others will be blessed if I can change. And if you will join me in trying.