This Is a Season for Living

This is a season for living

Sometimes life throws us curve balls. My mom landed one a couple of weeks ago. She was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Our family has rallied around her. We have tried to make sense of what to do. There have been sleepless nights and concern for her comfort, endless prayers on her behalf for God to intervene with some seriously good news.

While her doctors decide the best course of action, we cling to the hope offered by cancer survivors who have graciously extended the kind of encouragement that only a cancer veteran can. We have suddenly become inexplicably tuned into both the fragility of human life and the amazing strength born of adversity. In the wake of her frightening diagnosis, my mother has shown a determination to fight and a will to live that has bolstered the rest of us. And it is this courage that has convinced me that whatever lies ahead, she will face it with a renewed appreciation for the simple joys in life.

It is funny, in a bittersweet way, how times like this make us reconsider the direction of our lives. Isn’t it strange how the seemingly insurmountable frustrations of yesterday pale to insignificance when today emerges as an endangered gift of time? I spend my days and nights thinking differently about those things I yearned as essential to my happiness. How odd it is to look at them in terms of what my mother now faces. They are so completely inconsequential and frivolous, microscopic now on a horizon full of monstrous unknowns.

So, while we all handle unhappy news with our own methods of defense, I want to remind my mom and anyone who will listen that life is not measured in minutes or hours or days or years. Life is measured most accurately in how we use the time.

Since my mom learned she has cancer, I have seen my dad exhibit amazing fortitude and boundless love. The limitations of his Parkinson’s have somehow given way to a freedom of hope and the call to duty. She has noticed, with deepest gratitude. Together, they make a formidable pair, a couple of seasoned adventurers forging ahead on uncharted waters. I am stunned by the grace and commitment of their bond. One morning, as my mom and I headed to the clinic for tests, my dad waved to us from the front porch like a madman. She blew him a kiss. And I discovered a new sense of resolve, forever reminded of how love conquers all.

My parents, who prefer matters of a sensitive nature to remain private, may chafe at this public proclamation of their current struggles. But, it wouldn’t be the first time they wished their daughter would shove a sock in her mouth. It is from them that I learned early and well that the power of prayer and the perseverance of the human spirit can accomplish great and wonderful things. I am asking anyone who reads this and feels the same to add my mom to their list of those in need of God’s healing wisdom.

To those who have suffered the brunt of cancer, I want you to understand how fervently I hope and pray for your peace and recovery and that researchers find the answers they need to unlock this disease’s dark mystery. I will continue to find solace and hope in the hands of physicians who amaze us with their abilities and talents and in the sincerity of kindness and invaluable skills of those who work in medicine. From the mouths of pastors and the deeply spiritual come words that supply their own healing salve.

Meanwhile, I will remind my mom that there is a season for all things, that the verses from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 tell us that while there are times we break down, weep and mourn, there also are these: a time to love, a time to laugh, a time to dance and a time to heal. This is a season of difficulty, worry and pain, I know, but it is also a season of living with better days to come.