Groping through some ancient ideas, July 19, 2011

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened except maybe at the molecular levels of my cells.  We are continually amazed at the numbers of people and their friends and relatives praying for us. Rick expressed this well in an email to ones praying for us,” It is powerful to see how God works through his people, but it is quite humbling to be the recipient of His mercy acted out through you. “Still we are very grateful and overwhelmed, realizing God is hearing and answering your prayers even as you voice them.

            We sat for the second drip of chemotherapy on Thursday, week before last. That was July 7. Whee-doggies!  After this round, I experienced greater lethargy and malaise. Think slug.  “Quality of life is reduced” (per the American Cancer Society) as a result of dry mouth and bad taste, low appetite, and remarkable grumpiness.  This explains the lack of writing last week.  No, dear extroverted friends- a good laugh out loud girl night is not the thing.  That would be like inviting your friends over the week you have the flu or mono. Mercies attending those complaints include no nausea or vomiting, no mouth sores, no real pain (!) and the bad stuff is going away.  Another mercy is that chemo probably is working. The next two weeks will focus on 6 (six) small, full plates a day, taking Every Single supplement on time, reading, writing and doing yoga per Wii and restorative techniques with sunning to increase vitamin D levels and tan. Believe it or not, that’s a busy day.

            Now, deeper things.  Once before I wrote about crying.  That blog entry elicited many responses and led me to think more about sorrow, about Our response to tragic, horrible, frightening or unwanted things.  Meanwhile, my friend gave us a copy of Michael Card’s A Sacred Sorrow, which is very well written about the lost art of lamenting.  For a brief look at the idea, read Psalm 13. (Go on, look it up.) Rick put the word “cancer” in where psalmist had written “enemy”.  The piece shattered off the page at me as Rick read it aloud one morning.  That writer cries out to God.  How long will I be in sorrow all day? How long will You hide your face from me?  In essence, I’m suffering! He writes other hard questions that the sophisticated modern American Christian is hardly allowing herself to ask or admit thinking.

            It occurred to me that as kind and well meaning as the cheerup cards and “stay positive” encouragements are; they may be off the mark. This is not a soccer game, where you just have to keep your chin up.  Jesus wept and wept and wept until he bled. and then died.  Actually.  He saw (sees) and knew (knows) about very bad, very sad things.  Chemo, cancer and the threat of life’s end are fairly public game so the person gets hugs, cards in the mail, meals and kindnesses of every description.  However, many (most?) suffer privately and deeply without these comforts and ministrations.  (This is inequitable.)

            Anyway, Jesus suffered through these frightful, evil, horrible things without the comfort of God’s face shining upon Him.  The believers whom I admire and in whom is found a deep, steady peace are those, I think, who have followed Him and clung to Him through suffering.  They have been sorrowful and have lamented in their art, work, writing, silent tears late at night. all nights or primal screams in the shower or commute.  There is something to this!  He is marked by unmistakable joy; His followers through Valley of the shadow of death are more fearless and deeply joyful.  It’s enough to make you want to be like them.  (Sort of.)

            This is an early effort at idea sorting.  Could it be? Our don’t-worry-be-happy culture is cheating us out of the truth of living well? How is lamenting opposite depression!? What might biblical Lamentation do to depression? Why is Jesus most acquainted with sorrow and most known by His joy?  What about that famous heavenly idea of tears being dried?  Don’t you have to cry first?  To my first Cry blog, some did not want to see me sad.  These were the best mothers and kindest, gentlest men among us.  Others wrote back with knowingness. (sorry, editor: “knowledge” don’t work there.)

            So- just thinking over here in my cool back porch space with the comforts of your emails and such, a remarkably dumb cat who is learning to snuggle me two years after my bodyguard dog died, great starbucks coffee and all the water I can drink.  Underneath, this is a seriously joyful experience. Besides, my mama got that glam wig for me!  Thank you, Mother! 

            We are enjoying your blog responses.  To the extent you can make your remarks public, please do so.  There is strength and wisdom in many counselors and you see, I am groping my way through some ancient ideas.

(love!  ellen)