THE ONLY THING THAT COUNTS

THIS PAST WEEK while my dear husband and I were attending a business conference in Athens, Greece, the husband of a friend of mine began telling me how glad he was to see me so well. By then, jet lag had worn off, so I took his comment without regard to this illness I've dragged around with me for so long.

BUT, HE DID MEAN THIS ILLNESS. His sister had died ten days before of cancer while he and my friend were on a cruise. Her death had not been expected so soon, and I could see, despite his calm tone, he was deeply shaken. He hadn’t realized that when his sister had called him upon hearing that he would be gone for three weeks that she was initiating what she knew—even if he didn’t—would be their final conversation. “She wanted to settle all our old disputes and differences,” he said. “We’d never gotten along.” He paused. “She told me she loved me.”

IT WAS THE WORST OF MOMENTS for meaningful conversation. A band began playing music that Greeks seem to appreciate the most, and, not three feet from me, a woman well past the age when she should be clad in a black gossamer dress began to sway and warble out a middle eastern song. She seemed to know that few in the crowd understood her, and she compensated with volume. I shouted my condolences to my friend’s husband.

HE RAISED A HAND. “I’m not sad. She’s in a better place.”

I NODDED MY CONCURRENCE, and he continued. “After all, we’re only energy, you know. We’ve been here before, and we’ll be back again.” He buttered a roll with too much care. “Of course, we may not recognize each other,” he winked, “but it’ll be us.”

THE TEMPO OF THE MUSIC PICKED UP. The woman was joined by four dancers and a man who crooned meaningfully into a microphone he seemed in danger of swallowing. It was impossible for me to offer further comment.

HAD I HAD THE CHANCE, I would have told him that we are far, far more than energy. We are children of God, made in His image, destined for bodily—not just spiritual—resurrection. Christ was the first, but we will follow. Surely seeing his sister as the beloved individual God had created would be better than thinking of her as so many electrical impulses.

THE MOMENT PASSED, and our paths didn’t cross again before my husband and I caught our return plane.

NOW, AS I REFLECT ON THE MAN and his private grief, I wish I had been wise enough to say what Paul said in his letter to the Galatians (5:6): The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.

BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH THIS MAN did not understand the Message as I do, he was expressing his own faith through love for his sister, and she, by defusing whatever differences that they had had throughout her life, had done the same for him.

AND MAYBE THAT WILL BECOME A STEPPING STONE for him to build on in the future.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!

LODGING A COMPLAINT

SINCE MID-DECEMBER I’ve been on a roller coaster ride. Strapped in with the disease I try to ignore, there have been times when I’ve had to remind myself that despair is one of the most deadly of temptations . . . and other times when I’ve boldly reminded God of His promises—although I’ll admit to looking for nearby thunderclouds before I began.

I’VE HAD TWO SURGERIES; two incorrect biopsies; one misread sonogram; an alarming PET scan that later proved to be only that—alarming (not a fair depiction); the last of my “injectible” veins blown; and two scary moments when I was afraid I’d be removed from the clinical trial that I’d had to convince the researchers to accept me for! And did I mention experiencing so much tumor pain I’m medicated more than my thought processes like?

THE ANXIETY AND MINOR MISERIES of three scans and multiple major blood draws during this same time frame would have made me sick if I hadn’t already been.

USING THE PSALMS AND JOB as my guideline, I understand that my relationship with God is to be based on honesty. So, I can honestly say I haven’t been happy with how things have been going lately.

I’M NOT UNGRATEFUL; I am fully aware that things could be much worse. But, in the interest of being forthright—and I’m not certain anyone but God would remain on friendly terms with me if I were to be up front with all my feelings all the time—I’m lodging a complaint. I believe our relationship can withstand it. He can’t be deceived. He knows how I feel even before I complain.

THAT’S THE POINT, isn’t it? Other religions have at their center gods who demand appeasement. That’s not our God. He seeks relationship with us. And that includes our blunt, in-His-face, this-is-how-I-see-it opinions.

HIS IS THE MOST INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP I can ever have. He wants to be a part of my life at all times—whether they are the nice or the not-so-nice ones. And that takes honesty on my part.

AFTER ALL, I can’t fool God about how I feel. I can only fool myself.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!

Who me? Worry?

ANOTHER TUMOR—this one in new territory—is reminding me how powerless I am against melanoma. Every step I choose in the direction of health seems, on days like these, not to matter. I am like the front grille of a Hummer trying to convince a train to jump the tracks. If I’m alone on this project, the outcome is obvious.

THERE’S PLENTY to be disheartened over, plenty to worry about . . . That is, if it were in my job description to worry. It’s not, of course. Matthew 6:34 makes that very clear. “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (NRSV)

IN OTHER WORDS, my job is to deal with only this day. I am to attack the problems that present themselves NOW and trust that my cares—all of them—are important to our loving God. He will bring my problems (Are you listening, tumors?) to a worthy conclusion. I must let God, who is unconstrained by time, deal with the past and the future. I can’t. My troubles are for His doorstep. After all, what can I possibly do about them?

I WIN WHEN I STOP indulging in my worrying ways. Shucking them gives me a greater appetite for the challenges of TODAY. I’m ready. Even if it means I go to bat with one more tumor. Bring on the NOW.

AM I SOMETIMES DISAPPOINTED in God? Of course! Many, many times He doesn’t do what I want done—or do it when I think it should be done.

BUT THAT BRINGS UP ANOTHER QUESTION. Is God ever disappointed in me? Oh, I don’t even want to think about this. When I stop and count those times I have disappointed Him, this tendency of mine to worry, which shows a decided lack of trust, is merely one in a list too long to count. Without question, God is much, much better to me than I am to Him.

AND NO TUMORS—new or old—can ever rob me of that.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!