Sunday, June 28, 2009

The Journey


That's what this is, you know. This Journey we are all on. This life.
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We all have a path. Some may think that it is preordained. That God has it all planned out for us. Some may think it is chance...and our free will to react to opportunity.
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Some may think that it is a nice mix of the above.
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But it is a journey. Much like a very long walk. Taking us through mountains and valleys, forests and plains, good weather and bad.
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Our family has been on a particularly difficult part of our journey lately. I, like most of us, have been asking, "What is this all about?" "What am I supposed to take from this experience?"
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"How do I get through this?"
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Yesterday I had two experiences that led me closer to the answer to those questions.
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I sat in the living room with a wonderful lady who just recently lost her husband of almost 60 years. Neighbors at the fire station. Folks we came to know after a medical emergency several years ago.
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An ugly brain tumor took her husband very quickly a bout a week ago. So quick surgeons didn't have time to try to remove it. He played golf one Tuesday and died less than a week later.
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You might remember Team June's experience with an ugly brain tumor. The one that took June from us almost exactly one year ago.
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I believe I was able to give our friend some peace as she asked about the surgery. The surgery that probably would not have saved her husband. And very likely would have taken his spirit from her long before it took his physical body.
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And in the middle of the night I stood talking with a loved one of an overdose patient. A conversation about a situation that was so heartbreakingly familiar.
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I said the things to him that I remember hearing. Words spoken by....I don't even remember who. And words my cousin sent to my mother.
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Words that are so very hard to hear. But so necessary to hear.
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This man's pain was so real. So fresh. So...familiar.
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James waited for me as I comforted him. Said those hard words. I could hear the radio faintly as he stood quietly behind me....sensing that this conversation was as much for me as it was for this man.
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As we walked away I said quietly, "Right now...these are the hardest calls for me."
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"Yes", James said. "But think of the comfort you just were to him."
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This....this must be what this journey is for me.

3 comments:

MUD said...

In Vietnam there was a saying BTSOM (Beetsome) Beats the Shit Out of Me! That was the answer when things happened that no one could answer why. Just do your best and keep on moving forward.
MUD

Cindy said...

In the work that I do and love, I have often found myself with others in situations that mirror or are eerily similar to experiences I have had, much as you describe. What I have learned and know to be true is that when you reach out to comfort another, you, in turn, find some healing for yourself. When you ask the questions you are asking, "What am I supposed to take from this experience?" and "How do I get through this?" and are ready for the answers, the opportunities to explore and find the answers present themselves - every time. I believe it is spiritual growth.

Kathy said...

I'm so glad you were able to talk to the widow about the surgery her husband didn't have and offer perspective that can bring her peace.

As heartbreaking as it must be for her to lose him...it's has to be easier than watching your loved one go through the surgery and treatment (trauma) and inevitable decline.

You do incredibly important work!