Now that Nate has ten radiation treatments under his belt, we’ve gotten acquainted with the eleven a.m. crowd in the waiting room. Each of us has the same time slot five days a week. Some arrive in wheelchairs and others with canes or walkers. One elderly gentleman has a gleaming cane of clear Lucite with a thick, see-through handle. Gorgeous. Another man brings a white flannel blanket, wrapping himself in its comfort as he awaits his turn on the ice cold table. A young mom, waiting for her husband to finish treatment, brings their four year old daughter with her bag of crayons and coloring books.
Creative head gear abounds, keeping bald heads warm. We see everything from baseball caps to fancy scarves, knit hats and head wraps. The waiting room is freshly decorated in dusty green with cushy seating for 32. Making sure coffee, tea and hot chocolate are available for all of us, a receptionist keeps the pots fresh with new brew. A flat screen TV tuned to CNN talks softly, but no one is watching.
Looking around the room, I wonder about everyone’s story. All are fighting a battle they might not win. The bottom line is that they want to beat the greatest enemy of their lives: death.
Several precious friends of ours are praying for Nate’s complete healing from his metastasized pancreatic cancer. Although I have no doubt about God’s ability to do that, he probably won’t. And if he doesn’t, I trust he has excellent reasons. We’ve already experienced some of them as our family has drawn together and shared unnumbered blessings from each other and countless others.
I’ve polled all the friends I know whose mates have died of cancer. Some of those spouses never accepted their own mortality, even on their death beds. Others believed they would die, based on the probabilities. Which is better?
I believe Nate’s cancer is the beginning of the end. Before we’re done with this whole mess, I may swing around to the opposite point of view, but for today, my reasoning goes like this:
If we expect death and receive healing, what unbounded joy we will have!
If we expect healing and get death, priceless opportunities will have been lost.
When a dying person finally gives in to the excruciating reality that earthly life is ending, not one moment is squandered on anything without eternal benefit. The rest of us might bop along through our days, filing “eternity” in a special category labeled “some day.” In reality, all of us are up against eternity, but the terminally ill are the only ones thinking seriously about it.
Nate’s alert moments are fewer each day. He has excellent plans to have one-on-one time with each of his children and with me, to get some significant things said. He’s thinking, planning, jotting down words on Post-it notes. I pray he’ll have time to say and do all he’s hoping he can. His words will be cleansing for him and life-altering for us.
Before he gets to that, however, he’s trying to put other categories of his life in order. He’s given me the phone numbers to call when he’s gone. He’s put my name on his bank account. He’s drawn up a power of attorney for me. He’s straining hard to think straight while taking narcotics to deaden pain.
His priceless plans are being acted upon only because he believes he is soon going to die. If he was focusing on a miraculous healing, these important tasks would remain undone, just like our friends who died saying, “I can still beat this.” In those cases, there were no life challenges, no thank yous, no handing off of responsibilities, no goodbyes.
Recently, Nate was sitting quietly, his hands fingertips-to-fingertips on his chest when he said, “If I was healed of this cancer, I know I’d be a changed man. But at some point down the road I’d just have to go through it all over again.”
It was a telling statement and, I believe, an acknowledgment that the number of his days is soon to finish.
“You (God) saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” (Psalm 139:16)
Marg, You have filled Nate’s every day for almost 40 years with life and laughter. Your shelves are full to overflowing with picture albums of memories. Were you ever without a camera? Now you are giving him a gift of companionship and your sharing has spurred all of us to take a new look at our own spouses. Your sharing is a remarkable gift to all of us and we love you for being so open and vulnerable. YOu are truly a great friend, MJ
Having recently walked through terminal cancer with a very dear “daughter,” I understand this. While we prayed for healing up until the last moment, when death was certain, it seemed like time to talk about it as a reality and know what she wanted done while she could still tell us. I still regret that we did not face the reality of her coming death and allow her her final say-so about things. There seems to be a line to cross over. sometimes hard to see, between faith for healing and acceptance that healing is not coming.
Daily blessings to each of you. God has your family in the palm of His hand today.
Margaret, today my mind goes to your Mom and Dad. What caring kids they raised; Mary, Margaret, Tom!
Mom – I am so proud of you for putting these difficult words out there for everyone to read. Yes, God can heal even the worst cancer, and I think it honors him when we ask for the impossible with faith in his unfailing love. But death is not the end when you love Jesus. I think about that every day. I love you so much and I’m grateful you are letting so many people follow our family through this this time in our lives.
May God get the glory from your realistic and
biblical point of view. Our healing is most apt to be like Lazarus’s (minus the 4 day thing) I had a friend who cared for her 2 year old til he died at 6 of leukemia. We spent 2 years after he died dealing w/ her “faith” that God was going to heal him. The bottom line is that when God miraculously heals someone everyone else expects the same or wonders why they didn’t get the same gift. What we really are asking for is that God end the curse and results of the fall …for us right now. You are right on. If God chooses to miraculously heal Nate then He will get the glory. But you are encouraging countless others by trusting Him as the 3 before the fiery furnace.
Your wise and corageous words of acceptance and hope are an inspiration to us. The perspective you articulate so beautifully will free you and your family to savor each precious moment with each other. Thank you for sharing with us Margaret. We stand with you, prayerfully supporting you now and in the days to come.
Nate is right. This earth-life has not been God’s “Option Eden”. From that very first moment of spermatic ovuum penetration, there has in reality always been, even on the brightest of days, a slight haze, a diminished HD, a shadow…that Ps 23:4a valley is actually earth-life long.
We cry with you and hold you all just as Jesus did his beloved friends at Lazarus’ tomb, even though he knew “this is Friday and Sunday is a comin’.”
With tear-washed love,
Fellows and Jonie
‘”Lord, not my will, but thy will.” I pray for all of you at this time. Love to all. Lorraine
Sobering, realistic, gut-wrenching, life altering, comforting, excruciating truth. Whether our mate dies as 44, 64, or 84, this truth will never change. Nate’s humble acceptance of God’s plan for him is teaching us all how to die. Please tell him that we dearly love and admire him. Margaret, our precious friend, you are going before us sharing the excruciating emotions of your soul as you say good-bye to your beloved. You have written so beautifully–what a gift you are giving us! We hold you close in heart and prayer that you will have the strength to encourage, guide and care for Nate in his remaining earthly days so that he can achieve his final wishes for you and his dear children. With love & admiration, Rebecca and Erwin
So beautifully stated…and being the realist I am….your acceptance of this is..what it is…and only God, can know both your hearts. Sometimes, truth is JOY..sometimes..it cuts to the quick…I believe you two are in a very special place, and that, in and of it’s self…is a miracle..! I continue to pray God’s will be done and give you His peace. Love and admire you both,
Patzian
As I wrote once before, I do not know either of you, Margaret, only through Marjorie DeWitt, my sister-in-law. Your words today impacted me in several necessary ways. First of all, I feel so incredibly blessed that the prognosis for my lymphoma should see me living another year to 5, if not one or two more. But even with that “luxury”, after reading your words I plan to get better about living as if I will be gone fairly soon, and then be thankful for any type of healing the Lord may give me. Keep up the tough writing. We all need to read it!
Wish I would have connected with you before Nate made his journey, but all things happen according to God’s plan, not necessarily ours. My heart and prayers are with you and your family, Margaret. What a gem! My late husband, Manuel and I had such enormous respect for Nate. The professionalism and compassion he brought to the practice of law and in touching others remains incomparable. I leave you all with this thought from Richard Bach: “What the caterpillar called the end of the world, God calls a butterfly.”
My affection in Jesus Christ, Marilyn
You are a brave woman, Mom. You are faithful to seek the Lord and He constantly fills you with His courage and wisdom. I’m so blessed to be your daughter.