Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds. (James 1:2)
Monday, February 26, 2024
Fight Song
These thoughts have been weighing on my heart for a long time, but I've wrestled
with the decision to write them down. Lately they've become more persistent, so
I wanted to try and express them. These are not all my own thoughts; some are
words my sister told me during her cancer journey. She mentioned them several
times, and wrote me a message about them six months before we lost her. She told
me that she'd been thinking about discussing the topic on her CaringBridge blog
soon. Since she didn't end up getting this done, I've felt some responsibility
to do it for her. My sister struggled with the idea of cancer patients being
encouraged to stay strong or being applauded for their strength. In her words,
she said, "It is all the 'fight like a girl' or 'cancer fought with the wrong
person'...I thought I would say that sometimes cancer is stronger no matter what we do." Cancer journeys are
referred to as a fight or a battle, but too often this disease is an invincible
foe, no matter what weapons are desperately hurled. She understood that not all
cancer patients would share her opinion, especially those with a different
prognosis. I think many are bolstered by the feelings of control these words can
bring during a time when everything feels beyond their control. The hard part
comes when no amount of strength can change the outcome of a diagnosis. You can
be super strong in dealing with the indignities of surgeries and treatments or
show unimaginable strength of spirit in the face of heartbreak, but simply being
strong enough cannot cure the incurable. My sister did show undeniable strength
and grace during those four years, even while enduring cruel side effects and
disappointment after disappointment as each treatment eventually stopped
working. But I'm sad at the thought of her ever feeling pressure to be
unfailingly strong and resilient. I am trying to hold on to all the
lessons I learned from my wise big sister, and just wanted to share this one in
case it might help someone else.
Friday, February 9, 2024
Virgil and Ida
We used to travel the rural Nebraska roads to visit both sets of grandparents. Dad took much delight in flying over the small hills, which caused our stomachs to drop to our knees. Grandpa and Grandma Busch lived in the tiny town of Davenport in a beautiful white house. Each time we arrived, I would exchange warm greetings, then begin plotting how to nonchalantly ask permission to venture upstairs. The second floor was a separate furnished apartment that at one time had been rented out to schoolteachers. It was a quaint magical place that I wished to permanently inhabit. There was a bed that could be pulled out of the wall, and the most lovely vanity dresser I'd ever seen. I would gaze at the pretty stove in the little kitchen, then sit for a spell and pretend this was my own apartment. After I'd explored every inch again, I would stroll back downstairs. I never failed to make it down by 4pm since that happened to be the time Grandma served cookies and coffee. We loved the cookie jar that was shaped like a puppy in a basket. It never disappointed, and was always full of chocolate-covered grahams or oatmeal cookies. Afternoons were spent locking together pieces of round jigsaw puzzles or building with red bricks and Lincoln Logs. We fought for turns trying to stack rings inside a handheld game filled with water. Other times, we used a fancy multicolored pencil in a Heckle and Jeckle coloring book that never seemed to run out of pages. We loved spending holidays here, and received magnificent gifts along with the practical pairs of socks. Grandma would use a paring knife to open packages filled with chocolates, puzzles and cloth calendars. Last winter, I visited someone's house that had a distinct smell from their furnace. The scent transported me back to those carefree days in Davenport. We used to stand on a large register vent in the living room to warm our toes. When my sister and I moved into a duplex together before my last two years of college, we were looking for furnishings. Imagine my joy when Grandma said we could use furniture from the upstairs apartment! Laura loved the dresser she chose, while I knew exactly which piece I would request. In every home I've lived since, the vanity dresser has greeted me each morning when I wake.
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