Cancer, Death and the Daunting Question, Why?

Judy Moss died this morning at 8:00 am. I wrote my thoughts down last week after visiting her in ICU but didn’t get them in my blog before she died. My words are inadequate but I pray you will get a glimpse of this generous, gracious woman who loved well. As I reflect upon her life and her death she remains a wounded healer.

My friend Judy is dying of cancer. I met Judy after her children, Mike Moss (B9) and Liz Moss (B23) went through Barnabas. Immediately, I found her to be kind and accepting. Theologically, she is probably more conservative than I am but she has accepted me with enduring grace and unconditional love. Though we never spent much time together, when I was diagnosed with cancer last year, I received a card from her with a check in it to help with my medical bills. When I began treatments she sent a wooden cross to me to hold during chemo. When her daughter Liz came by to check on me during my illness she told me that her Mom wanted to know how I was feeling and how my family, particularly Ricardo, was holding up through my illness. Judy was doing all this while fighting her own battle as cancer was spreading throughout her body.

Watching her journey over the last few years and seeing the torment she is now enduring ignites anger in me which asks, “So what are you doing now Lord?????” Clearly in my humanity I cannot understand how God interacts with such evil tragedies like death by cancer. Seeing her in ICU today it's hard to believe she is still alive with so little left of her physical body. Yet her spirit is clearly alive and her countenance is the same as it was before she got sick: kind, humble, thoughtful and full of faith. Many would say that the Spirit of God is always evident in her presence.

Too often Christians comfort themselves or others with beliefs such as, “God has a purpose which will be revealed later” or “this must be God’s will.” I don’t buy it. Surely the creator of the universe and the lover of our souls doesn’t sit on a throne as a parent unmoved by His children’s pain. Surely our God of grace doesn’t roam the earth deciding what illness or tragedy should be assigned to certain families. I’m not willing to get into a theological argument about what God planned or even foreknew. No one can answer the overwhelming question of “why?” If they try, they haven’t suffered.

So what is true in all of this? What is God doing? He is present. And that presence fills the room with peace. His presence lifts my heart out of the questions and calms me. God’s presence is tangible as He waits for Judy to be ready. When that time comes, the absence of her Spirit in the room will be deafening. Our memories will return to life before cancer and we will be comforted by the life she lived. Her family will grieve deeply because of her physical absence but will be grateful her suffering is over.

For now, those of us who stand by them can offer our presence and that will be enough.
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Dancing With Fear

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted because I’m actually living after surviving chemotherapy. I’ve heard many say they never felt the symptoms of cancer; it’s the treatment that almost killed them. I agree, however, the chemo has given me life, at least for now. The “at least for now” sounds rather cynical, but I’m afraid of calling myself a cancer survivor. I’ve read stories of women who survived breast cancer only to see it resurface with a vengeance.

I just read Elizabeth Edwards book Resilience, thinking I would gain strength from her hope in the midst of several traumatic events, cancer being one of them. Instead, her words felt almost prophetic. Here is a quote from her book…

“The cancer was back. Well, I suppose the doctors would say it had never really gone. I thought the chemo chased it away... But it only chased away the big pieces; the smallest of pieces had stayed, hidden from the scans, too small for imaging: they had stayed and then grown. And now, here it was again, now grown, now in its new home. No longer in my breast, it had spread to my bones, maybe my lungs and maybe my liver. And it wasn’t leaving. Not ever. In that moment when I found out for certain that I would have cancer in me every single day until one day it finally took my life, all the reasons to live and the reasons to die, the way to live if I could, all danced before me, twirling, enticing until I chose a partner from among them. Live. Die. Fight. Curl up. Look for a hug. Give a hug. Cry. Cry. Cry.” Elizabeth Edwards

Though cancer is the obvious comparison, I’ve been thinking about how all of life entices us to choose a "partner from among them.” With Edwards cancer reoccurrence, “live, die, fight, curl up, look for a hug, give a hug, cry, cry, cry” are reasonable dance partners. As believers in Jesus or having faith in God, we have additional partners to choose from (faith, hope, trust, etc…) but we still have to choose who we will dance with and what message we will dance to.

Sometimes I feel a little psychotic because I seem to change partners more often than not. One day, I am dancing with “hope and faith." Then, without notice or because of some small trigger from my past, I will spend the day or days dancing with “fear and doubt”. Today, fear of hidden cancer, sadness from the recent death of a friend and merely trying to stay the course are enticing me to dance with fear.

Thankfully, my job requires me to stay engaged. Being a part of authentic community and believing my life has purpose sent fear back to the wall. It’s amazing how those two things can pull me out of the fetal position. Within five hours, I have changed dance partners again.

If you find yourself being enticed by fear, sometimes you have to walk through it. Ironically, dancing with fear and doubt usually lead to faith and hope. Other times, being with people (get out of the house) and having enough faith to simply do the next right thing will bring renewed hope.

Who are you dancing with today? There’s not a “right” answer to this question. My encouragement is to put words to the feelings rather than falling in a hole wondering why it’s difficult to get through the day. The dance of fear is always waiting to “cut in.” If the lesson is in the fear, walk on. If not, call someone, go out and live what you are passionate about and as always… do the next right thing.

FYI… as God would have it; I met with someone today who has worked in oncology for years. Her advice, “studies show that people who have a positive attitude, have some form of spiritual life and laugh often have a lower reoccurrence rate than those who don’t.” Go figure.
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Time To Kick Some Chemo

Thanks for all the birthday wishes and for your prayers for my treatment today. Because the last one almost killed me I have been a little anxious about this morning. However, I woke up with a heart full of God’s love for me and the belief that He still has plans for me.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

So, forgive me if I offend you, but I am going out this morning to kick some chemo ass. It may take me down a little, but it is getting me well.

As someone who is on the journey of continually walking through my own brokenness (not always by my choice), I still feel God’s calling to walk alongside others who have found life to be challenging. I still believe in the “God of Second Chances” and I still believe that it is in our pain that we find new life.

So, if you are struggling like me, do not lose hope. Don’t resist your brokenness. Go with it and find the man or woman that is underneath the pain. I believe you will find the truth underneath all of your self protective strategies and when you are stripped of all the masks that you hide behind, you will find the truth that makes you free.

In the Barnabas Journey we have an exercise where we claim some of the gifts or the truth about who we are because of the grace of God. I am starting today with this gift of truth about who I am in “My Fathers Eyes.”

By The Grace of God,
I Am A Special, Worthy and Complete Woman,
Who Needs God’s Help

Connie

Please forgive me for not personally answering emails right now. I read every one of your words of encouragement and they provide great comfort. However, I am low on energy and am finding it hard to stay caught up. So, here is one big thank you coming your way.

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