Monday, January 25, 2010

I have been reading the book by Mitch Albom, titled Have a Little Faith. The main character in the book is an elderly Rabbi, who has summoned Mr. Albom, and asked that he be the one to write his eulogy. Over a number of years, Albom visits the Rabbi, much in the same way he visited with his college professor, Morrie, in his book, Tuesdays with Morrie. These visits help in understanding the man Albom must eventually eulogize. This story is incredibly spiritual and very emotionally driven. I think I feel it more so with "Have a Little Faith", because of what I am experiencing in my life.

Since Jeff’s illness was diagnosed over two years ago, and then his death, it has been a constant barrage of adrenaline fed events. There has been so much to handle, to care for, to nurse, to nurture, to pray for, to fix, to pick-up, to clean-up, to repair, to fear, to fight for, and to love, that my life has been in a constant sense of urgency. I rarely eat sitting down, because I feel like if I don’t clean something or pay a bill or make a list, even while eating, that something will slip out of my grasp…my control…and my world will spin off its axis again.

It all feels very surreal sometimes. Like the times when you are about to say something that you feel is important, but something or someone interrupts you, and by the time it is your turn to speak again, you have completely forgotten that amazing idea you had wanted to share--one that you were certain was life changing. It makes you crazy trying to remember what you wanted to say and you know it’s right there at the edge of your memory, but then it just slips away out of your grasp, and you feel a sense of fallibility and frustration that you let such an important thing go. A sense of something left uncompleted, left unsaid.

This is how I describe my life. And perhaps, my life has been this way long before the words cancer were uttered.

My Faith could be described as little right now. My Faith that there isn’t anything out there to be scared of, as I tell my little girls when they hear an odd noise at night. My Faith that I can handle anything that comes my way because look at what I have had to handle and survived. My Faith that I can have peace and know that God is guiding us through the storm. I tell people I am close to, that I plan on having quite the talk with God when I pass through on my way to who knows where. I need to understand why children die at the hands of beasts; why cancer is allowed to run rampant through our midst; why money is what controls who gets what is needed in this life on this earth; why innocents are injured and the guilty go free; why people can be careless and make horrendous mistakes and not be sorry; why those who makes mistakes and are deeply sorry cannot be forgiven and are judged; why people cannot put themselves into the shoes of those they judge and see for an instant a pain never imagined.

But there is the good that is plentiful. It is overshadowed quite often by the fear and bitterness we are served. The good is there. The Faith is there. God is there. Not how we demand it, or expect it, or desire it. The good is just there. And we cannot see it until we can be humble enough to receive it in the simplest gifts. I know what my “good” is. I cannot tell you and expect you to feel it too, because my interpretation of good is going to vary from yours, and rightfully so. Each and every one of us needs to seek out what is good in his or her life and focus on that good. Soak it up, digest it, and take in every second of that good. That is what is life changing. That is the spectacular idea that you wanted to share. Look for your good, your faith, your peace—it’s there in the storm or the still of night when sleep evades or when fear keeps you from taking another breath. God gives the good—He gives you the faith you need, whether it’s little or big. And He is always there and does not slip out of your grasp….

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