16 Years Later…
Life is hard!
Yesterday we received news that a good friend and colleague has ovarian cancer. The word cancer still strikes a fresh wound in me, but ovarian cancer is like a full-on kick in the gut. I’m so sad for my friends and what they are just starting to walk through. I hope there has been progress in treating ovarian cancer. I pray God will do a miracle in the midst of it all for my friends — and for another friend’s daughter-in-law who was also just diagnosed with this cancer. Two of my guy friends had prostate cancer this year and are thankfully doing well.
Today I “just happened” to be taking a prayer day and am grateful for good weather to sit in the park near our apartment in Madrid’s city center. I took some time to sit in the sorrow and grief. The grief is still fresh 16 years after Deela went to be with Jesus and 19 years after I first heard the words ovarian cancer from the doctor’s mouth. It stirs in me pain, regret, gratitude, helplessness, and amazement — amazement as I think of Deela’s strength, closeness to God, sweet spirit throughout the nine chemo treatments, and amazement at God’s presence and gifts in the midst of perhaps the yuckiest time of my life.
I have so much gratitude that I can’t write it all here, but God met me so much in my pain, failure, and fog. Often, he used his body — Crossroads The Hague and our Christian Associates family to comfort and encourage us. Gratitude for his presence and peace in the yuck, even when I couldn’t notice it or feel it. Pain as I recall Deela’s suffering under treatments and the last days she drew breath. Pain as I think of my kids not knowing Deela as they grew up and that she can’t know them as adults. We didn’t leave things unsaid, and Deela and I finished well, yet I still have regret, wishing I’d have said more, been more present for her and the kids, and not let the pressure crush me at times. Could I have helped the kids more in that season and after? I know God’s grace is sufficient, and I gladly receive it! I recall the helplessness I felt as Deela suffered, even as I feel the helplessness today as friends struggle with cancer. I’m not helpless, I can lift them to the Father who cares much more than I do!
• I’m reminded that God hates this, too, and that things are not the way He created them to be.
• I’m reminded to keep doing in the dark what he has shown me in the light. Otherwise, it’s so easy to get lost in disorientation and pain.
• I’m reminded that God can handle my hurt, rants, pain, lashing out, and sorrow - there are over 40 psalms of lament. I’ve learned to write out my laments in the last few years.
• I’m reminded to draw heavily on a faith-filled loving community even though I’m the one used to giving out and serving. It’s ok to receive.
• I’m reminded to fight for gratitude. I can’t imagine ever giving thanks for cancer; it’s horrible. Yet, even in this darkest valley of cancer and loss, I had many reasons to give thanks. I needed a variety of friends’ help to see it and needed God to point me to it. But there’s always a place for giving thanks, which changed my posture and attitude so quickly.
• I’m reminded that Jesus’ presence and peace give courage (John 16:33). This passage reminds me that there is no shortage of trouble in this world but that, like the disciples about to lose Jesus and suffer greatly, I could take courage in His peace and abiding presence.
• I remember the words, “take care of yourself, not just Deela and the kids.” This might be the hardest aspect of this all because I just want to escape or numb myself, but that doesn’t really help. I’m still finding ways to care for myself as I give to others.
• I’m reminded to find close campions to sit around a fire with who will laugh and cry with me.
• I’m reminded to love those close to me well, not leave things unsaid, and avoid busyness, hurry, and numbing out so that I can stay present.
Cancer stinks! For those who suffer from it and for those who love them and journey with them. I hope to be a person who lifts others up to the Father faithfully and who sits with them in silence, tears, laughter, or encouragement. I hope that my story of hardship and loss can help others on their journeys.
Yes, life is hard, but God is good!
That was my first sermon title some six months after Deela’s death. I clung to that 16 years ago and still do today.