We Now Return You To Your Regularly Scheduled Life

Some days I feel like my emergency broadcasting system has been activated, tested, tried, and now...what?

I wish I could explain what it feels like to prepare for death, and then just go back to daily living like it was no big deal. It's certainly not a scenario I have any kind of a monopoly on...there are many others who have faced serious illness, wars, and traumatic events that brought them to the moment(s) of facing their own mortality, and then, when those moments had passed, back they went...to every day living.  

Several friends have asked when I was going to write a post surgical update- but until now, I couldn't find the wherewithal to write. I had to go through the first part of the healing process and learn the lessons. 

On The Unexpected: I've been to two funerals in the last few weeks. The first, for an acquaintance, a couple years older than me...who was a cherished husband, and father to two little girls. He was an avid coffee aficionado, and a man deeply beloved in my community as a kind and generous philanthropist. He was constantly working to remember and care for the least among us, and encouraged each of us to do the same. 

The second funeral was for the 3 year old son of one of my best friends. I sat in the hospital room in the predawn of the morning...her recently deceased son lying between us on the hospital bed. We stroked his hair, and marveled at his beautiful, peaceful little body. His mother held him, sending him home to God, amidst ample tears and kisses. The following week, still in somewhat of a daze, the Church was packed full of many loved ones, and his funeral Mass was beautiful.  

This little boy had a terrible start in life, the victim of horrific and incapacitating child abuse at the hands of his biological parents. My girlfriend and her husband adopted him from the foster care system. They wrapped him in constant support and care, everyday, in their large and bustling family. As he came to the end of his brief earthly life, that little soul was cradled and rocked in his mother's loving embrace, as he passed into eternal life. I don't know that I have ever experienced a greater intimacy than being present in that sacred space with a parent who has just lost their child. My girlfriend and I speak very candidly and uncensored about many things (read: pretty much everything).  We mused that her son's resting place, and my future den of earthly repose will join us together with yet another thread of connection. Her son was cremated and interred at the same columbarium where my remains will one day be placed. We joked (but were simultaneously quite serious) about how comforting it was to think that we would be there side by side. He in his carved burled wood urn, and I in my butterfly one. A twofer stop for a prayerful visit...nestled in a garden cloister adjacent to the Church.  

These two deaths reinforced for me, the very strange mystery of the time we are given here on Earth...and that there are many questions we will never have answers to this side of heaven...why do some get to live long lives into old age, while others die so much earlier? How can we make sense of the problems of suffering and evil? Why does {when} death comes seem so deeply unfair, with no discernible rhyme or reason as to who will be chosen for its embrace?

To mentally and emotionally wade through the agonizing pain and excruciating loss that exists in this world can seem to be both nonsensical and emotionally paralyzing. Keeping despair at bay may become a daily challenge. It might strike with morbid curiosity...to wonder what the purpose was...in the life of a small abused child who would die at such an early juncture? What benevolent God allows such suffering? What God creates an innocent child who will know so much pain? Wouldn't it have been better that he had not been born? It is tempting to pridefully rise up in personal comparison to God. To think (as many of us have done, if we are honest)...if we were to be found at the helm of steering all of Creation, we would never allow a child to suffer, as so many do the world over. We would never allow many of the evils that plague our world. We would have done it differently, we would have done a better job at "being God."  It can be easy to fall into the pride of believing ourselves to be wiser than the Creator. With angered broken hearts, we can begin to believe that we would make better choices. If we presume God to be indifferent to the cries and groaning of humanity, eyes turned away from all of us below, then we can fall into the sad state of deeming God unworthy of our worship and devotion. 

When I was younger, I worked in the field of child protection, and my girlfriend, mentioned in this story, still does. We each carry an indelible mark on our souls and psyches at having seen the darkness, and the abyss of evil that exists in the destruction of innocence.  I've had to wrestle with some of the above questions I mentioned, and I still do wrestle through the night, like Jacob and the angel, with a few of the confusing ones from time to time.

I've made as much peace with the lack of satisfactory answers (and with God) as possible, by acknowledging and truly believing a few things: A. free will must exist in order for authentic love to exist. Each human had to be given free will. It is the misuse of this free will (that we each possess) which creates many of the problems, evils, sins, and suffering in the world. The flip side of this, is that we can each (like my girlfriend and her husband) use our free will for all that is good, virtuous, healing, and holy. 

B. I am NOT, in fact, in any way or by any means, smarter, wiser, or a better planner of how the universe should unfold than God is. There was a point at which I had to decide that if I believed my faith was really truth, I had to surrender to mystery. To be able to say (and to mean) to God, "I can't understand your plan God, I don't know why 'xyz' is happening. It makes absolutely no sense to me, I don't know why you allow this, but "Thy will be done." Choosing to accept that I just have to live without a complete/acceptable answer to my burning questions this side of heaven, has been oddly peaceful.  

C. I can only seek to assure you of the one part I am absolutely sure of...the lesson of this little boy's life (and each one of our lives) is about love. I fully trust my senses as they have taken in the experiences of watching many loving parents look upon their children with joy, delight, and deep unconditional love. It is not merely an evolutionary accidental that such a capacity exists within us. My nephew and nieces come to mind...and I think of how I love them with a depth of love I never knew existed in myself until they were born. The capacity for that intensely magnificent pure emotion, duty, dedication, determination, and care...to will their good above my own is God given. If it is God given within our souls, it must first exist within God, God must have those delights and joys for each one of us. If that is the case, then I can never be correct in believing God to be indifferent, disinterested, or deeply cruel in His allowance of suffering. It is overly simplistic to lay out these thoughts late at night, in a mish mash way that cannot stand up to exacting rigors of theological and philosophical scrutiny. There is no truth I need to reinvent within my faith; and my theological, intellectual, and spiritual answers come in understanding the person of Jesus Christ. I have 2,000 years of ancestors who asked many of the same questions, and there are catechetical responses and explanations to all that has been posed.

But I mean something different by what I write here...acceptance? It took years to form and solidify the tools I have: to believe in, by my own discernment, firmly for myself...that my lingering questions about the allowance of the horrors I have seen in real life, and through the news around the globe, will (in many respects) remain unanswered mystery. I will not master the understanding or the scope of God's design, in this Earthly life. But, I will (and do) trust God's love as truth, and want to remain within it.

  

   

I imagine and believe it all does make sense...the macro design. At present, all we can see is the underside of a large quilt-the scraggly edges, wayward matted, tangled threads, knots, and the mashed together pieces that don't line up. We have an eternal promise that one day all the tears and pain will be washed away. For the virtues of hope and faith do not exist in Heaven. They are unnecessary because they will have been fulfilled. Of the three theological virtues, only charity will remain. After our deaths, when that divine promise is fulfilled, we may finally be able to turn the quilt over to gaze upon it, in its entirety, of swirling colors, shapes, patterns, and beauty. Then, at long last, we will finally understand that which we were incapable of comprehending (while only viewing the under side of the quilt, from our Earthly lives below). The mystery will finally be solved, and in peace, we will fully admire and appreciate the grand design of God's plan. Which, was love all along. 

Walking In Beauty

I don't know how to start this post. It has been percolating for weeks and there is so much to choose from about my gratitude to family and friends...I haven't been able to figure out where to begin.

Perhaps, I'll start with a story about Kaladi Brothers (a local coffee watering hole for you non Alaskans) and Tiny Koop. 

You know those people in the grocery store you run into and say, "hey, let's go get coffee sometime," and you totally mean it in the moment, but you never actually do go out for that coffee...because it would mean having to get to know that person, and making time to leave your den of solitude, and finding time in an already busy life, and it might feel a little awkward. But then upon later reflection you're sort of wistful about the whole thing and wish you had just done it?

This coffee date story begins with dear Tiny Koop. Tiny Koop was a chaplain when I worked at the Police Department. She was a bubbly blonde and had a smile that lit up a room as she joyfully darted in and out of offices, pausing to check in with all of us to see how we were faring. My memory is of smiling at her a few times or waving a quick hello, but we never really chatted too much or exchanged more than pleasantries. A couple years later, we became facebook friends. Say what you like about social media, one of the fantastic things about it is that you can get to know people in new ways...their quotes and quips, stories, photos of their families, their "likes."  (I don't know if that's a thing or not to look at the list of things your friends like? Or if that delves into creeperland? I enjoy seeing what my friends like...and sometimes I'll add one of their liked items to my own list...for example "Princess Bride." OF COURSE I like that too. That band? LIKE!).  After you read a friend's wall posts several times a week for a couple years, you get a sense and appreciation of their character and who they are in this sliver of an online snapshot. It's perfectly realistic that some feel a lot closer to others through this medium. Especially, when people are honest and real in what they say, and don't just give you their life highlight reel. A level of vulnerability can certainly lead to increased feelings of intimacy and knowledge of other people.

Tiny Koop has been through breast cancer twice, several surgeries, grueling treatment regimes, then more surgeries. When I found out about my brain cancer diagnosis, she was one of the first people to ask me if I wanted to meet up for coffee.  I told her I wasn't ready yet, but that I would try to call her down the road in a few weeks. I thought this was going to go the way of..."we'll have a cuppa someday..." but the first day I woke up unable to keep my balance or walk normally anymore, I texted Tiny Koop for that coffee date. 

For a moment, tangent jump with me to the subject of 'being proposed to.' You know how there are certain situations that we react to, in the same manner every time?  Well, every time I see (on television, in a magazine, in a book, in real life) someone being proposed to in a very public way (especially at a sporting event)...I cringe with the kind of discomfort that permeates every cell of my body.  If you know me well, you know that I think public proposals sound like a ghoulish nightmare, and you probably also know I would be mortified beyond belief to have something like that ever happen to me...especially a proposal (it should be intimate, just the two of you, no audience...I digress). For those of you who may be thinking, "Hey! I was proposed to in public and loved it...mea culpa!"  Save that for the raging extroverts and entertainers of the world I say.  My main point is to emphatically emphasize that having any attention drawn to me in a public place (IRL) is not my idea of a good time ever, never, never, ever. Of course, there was no way for Tiny Koop to know any of this about me when we met up...after all, we were going to be starting at the 'get to know you stage' of the relationship...sort of. 

When Tiny Koop started the kind of personal journey that changes a person indefinitely, I followed along online via facebook. I often wanted to know how she was every week, what to pray for her and for her family, how she was feeling each step of the way.  I remember actually tearing up and crying a bit while looking at a facebook photo of her the first time she made it up a hike, on a mountain she loved, after surgery. Or watching her change through the stages of chemotherapy...blonde, bald, grey, frail, weak, tired, loved, fighting, pained, faithful, strong. When she allowed me and others to watch and learn, and metaphorically sit at her feet to observe how she was maneuvering through great suffering...I did. It was at a distance...frequent post "likes" and the occasional private message to let her know I was thinking about her and praying for her...but it was also so much more...because I was allowed to witness from the periphery what she was experiencing. And she was candid and real. It changed me. The vulnerability she offered in her human experience led to a feeling of connection and intimacy with her and dare I say...love. I began to love her. 

Don't we all wonder how we would move through something like that if it happened to us? Or, if we have previously been a support person to someone we love through such an ordeal, doesn't it touch on those memories of our own experience(s) to watch another move through it? This kind of suffering brings up those core existential questions for so many of us...

Who will love me through such an illness? Who will be there for me? Who will accept me when I am needy and must one sidedly take and take...when I cannot be in a position to equally give in the relationship? Who will it be safe to be weak in front of? Who can see me in my frailty? Who will accept me when I am not funny? When I don't feel strong? When I cry? When I am angry? When I am in pain all the time? When I need help with simple things like carrying items or feeding my pets? Drinking and feeding myself? Going to the bathroom? Changing my clothing? Making my bed? Who will help care for my children? Who will be a support to my spouse? Who will accept us when so many of the things we think makes us "us" get stripped away?

Wow, that tangent turned into several of them, but let's circle back around to the coffee shop. When Tiny Koop came into Kaladi's, I was nursing a terrible headache. She was too, and it was oddly funny and bonding as we tried sitting at various tables to get just the right one where the light wouldn't hurt our eyes. Then she said something that was simply so her..."sorry I'm late, Anastasia, I had a wild bunny situation in the back yard." How can I say something is "so her" when this is the first time we have sat across from each other face to face? Because I spent years learning and listening to who she is... in a different medium. I had a good and much needed laugh at her animated recollection, and we launched into an excellent and real conversation about where we each were. 

She surprised me at one point when I was talking about how I was feeling. I said, "It could be worse, I could be in a country with no medical care, or no pain medication."  She gave me sort of an exasperated look and quipped, "I'm really surprised you're going there. Suffering is suffering. Pain is pain. It is okay to hurt without trying to minimize it."  It was like a quick verbal slap across the cheek...not in a mean way, but in a "wake up and pay attention kind of way."  I realized I had been saying that for other people...well mostly.  I do want to have a sense of gratitude and I am fully aware that I am exceedingly blessed in medical care etc.  But also, and I think this is the little nugget of wisdom in this post...I had been saying that for other people... to try to make it not seem so bad or uncomfortable for them. To not be a Debbie Downer or a complainer. To make it easier for them so that they would still want to be around me. So they would still stay with me through it. But Tiny Koop blew me out of the water. Because the basic message she was freeing me with was, "No honey, go ahead and hurt. It's okay to say it hurts. It's okay to say to others that you are in pain. People will still stay. Be authentic. You don't have to compare your pain and say someone else's is greater, so yours doesn't count."  It has been strange to me in analyzing my own psyche, that I needed permission for that. But for whatever reason I did...and now I have stopped trying to minimize the bad days, while being very mindfully appreciative of the good days. 

So, she and I have this authentically open and honest talk and deep sharing, and then she says, "now I can give you your present."  

A feeling of DREAD takes over, and the cells in my body do a 180 degree turn and start to tingle with disdain.  I can sense what is coming next and I want to get up and bolt out of the coffee shop as quickly as possible. As her broad smile gets bigger and her loving eyes look down at me, she stretches out her arms, while I try to force back the daggers from my own eyes that want to shoot out at her. 

Here it comes. 

I brace myself. 

And, there, in the crowded coffee shop, Tiny Koop stands up and begins to serenade me A capella at the top of her lungs with, "The Glory of Love," by Bette Midler. I mean... Beaches! In a coffee shop! In front of total strangers! Was she trying to kill me?! 

"This is a song I've been singing for a long time.

It's like an old friend.

But, you know, I think it,

it's only recently that I discovered what it's really about."

You've got to give a little, take a little,

and let your poor heart break a little.

That's the story of, that's the glory of love.

You've got to laugh a little, cry a little,

until the clouds roll by a little.

That's the story of, that's the glory of love.

As long as there's the two of us,

we've got the world and all it's charms.

And when the world is through with us,

we've got each other's arms.

There's not a good describing word or phrase in English for feeling several strongly conflicting emotions simultaneously. I was mortified, irritated, exceedingly grateful and humbled, bowled over by her boldness and kindness, effected by the lyrics, rising emotions, and the congested uncried tears about our struggles. It was like an emotional kaleidoscope that kept swirling into different patterns. 

I stood up on my shaky legs with my throbbing head and I wrapped myself into her waiting embrace and hugged her. Settling into embarrassment and thankfulness while many eyes watched us. And, I held on tight. Then, I became aware that I no longer saw anyone else. I didn't pay attention to them. In that moment it was just the arms of my friend and my cancer surviving sister. 

Right then and there, she sang truth into my ear, which was nestled tightly against her shoulder, 

we've got each other's arms... 

Love, ~Anastasia