Either You Believe it or You Don't

On Christmas eve last year a friend wrote a Facebook post about how wonderful 2013 was and how happy he was that his wife beat a case of blood based cancer.  I have spent a great deal of time since then thinking about something he included.  It said: 

We've also learned from friends who modeled how to handle a battle lost to cancer with faith, dignity, strength, and grace.

I don't know for sure that this part of his post was about us, but regardless, it spent a lot of time in my head.

I remember spending much of Christmas thinking I didn't want to be dignified or strong.  I wanted my kid back.  I wanted to watch him playing with his kid.  I wanted him to see Devin dumping all of the lego blocks on the floor with a thundering crash.  I wanted more of those awkward moments when my boy was talking way over my head about sports and I would try to participate in the conversation without sounding like a complete idiot.

For the record, I am so thrilled that my friend got to write his Facebook post telling how scary it was to consider the worst case scenario, and how wonderful it was to live out the best case scenario.  I was always thrilled about that, but now, in hind sight, I remember something I did when raising Shane and Mandy.

I used to travel a lot and sometimes I would see a gift that would give one of my kids a thrill.  I would buy the gift and bring it home knowing that Michelle would be uneasy with the fact that one kid was getting a gift and the other was not.  She was afraid it wasn't fair.

For my part, I would insist that my approach was right because I wanted the kids to learn to share the joy of others and I also wanted them to understand that nobody promised any of us "fair".

A year and a half ago the company I worked for put out an early retirement offering.  For decades prior to the offering I used to pontificate about my belief that there should be three phases in your life.  The first starts when you are born and is centered on serving yourself.  Phase one ends when you get married and choose to put your family out front.  Phase two is about serving your family and the ones you love.  I always said the third phase came when your children were grown and phase three was about serving those outside of your family circle.

My decision to leave my job of nearly 30 years was predicated on another thing I say quite often.  "Either you believe it or you don't".  If I really believed my theory about the three phases it was time for phase three.  If I didn't then it was just fine to stay in corporate America and continue to accumulate wealth.

I left.

So 2013 brought significant surprises, the greatest of which was two cases of cancer.  One was a winner and one was a loser and once again I'm faced with a case of "Either you believe it or you don't".

Do I really believe life isn't fair any you need to share the joy of the winners when you didn't get anything?

Oh, if it were only that simple.

Consider the "meat" of the sentence my friend wrote:

"how to handle a battle lost to cancer with faith, dignity, strength, and grace."

Again, I don't know it was about us, but if it was, some of it hit home, some of it was clearly a swing and a miss.

For example "dignity".  Maybe Michelle, but have you met me?  Dignity is not one of the things I exude.

Meanwhile, the faith part is easy. 

At one point during this wacky journey someone put their hand on my shoulder and said "It's OK to be angry with God over this".

I remember thinking that was one of the dumbest things I've ever heard.  Be angry with God?  {insert manic laughter here}

My faith has always made the concept of death little more than a curiosity (one that was too permanent to check out, but interesting none the less).  I've always said death wasn't a big deal.  It was just the last part of living.  Historically, when it was time for members of the Crawford family to die it was time to celebrate, not mourn. 

Although the timing of Shane's death was totally messed up, none of us has any doubt that what happened to him is more than worth the pain and suffering he went through the six weeks prior to his death. 

(And for those of you who like heavy thoughts in your head, my faith leaves me wondering who was the cancer winner and who was the cancer loser.  Is Shane better or worse off than our friend who beat the disease?)

Ok.  That covers faith and dignity.  Grace and strength are left.

Grace was hard.  When Shane's drama was going on I didn't pray for healing.  I simply prayed for God's will.  I also finished each prayer with a plea that if God's will was to take my little boy that he give me grace to handle it.  I knew I couldn't handle it on my own.

Finally we have strength.  Perhaps an illusion makes us look strong but if you could get on the inside you would clearly see that strength is a great facade.

You might look and think you see it, but none of us claim to be strong.  The illusion of strength is simply making a choice not to be what you really are, a jello emotional melt down right on the verge of happening.

For my part, the strength facade is rooted in a song called "Carry On" by a band named "Fun".  The song was played at Shane's funeral and I've never heard it all the way through without melting down.  Ths song, however, is about phase three.  It's about a hundred and forty kids who still need us.  It's about little Devin and the illusion of strength when it says:  

On our darkest day
When we're miles away
So we'll come, we will find our way home

If you're lost and alone
Or you're sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and
Carry on