Relativity & Connectedness

Challenges bring opportunities to learn and grow. I've learned a lot about myself, about life and others in the past year. I hoped to reflect on those three linked aspects of my experience for a couple of paragraphs.

I expected to be able to make a list of what I learned about myself, but couldn't very readily. I can say that from a very small circle/me sense, I am now willing to sacrifice much of what I once valued to live longer. All else about me these days ultimately relates to that.

What I learned is that, "life" for me boils down to the space between me and others. Via the abrupt revaluation of what's important that a serious illness offers, I developed my very own theory of relativity. It's actually beyond a theory, having been proven repeatedly. The fact is that it is all relative for me. I am part of an intricate and beautiful web. The same principle applies to my priorities in life – they exist in relation to those I love most.

In the spirit of connectedness, one huge discovery I made is that if you put things out there, they will come. Most of us have been taught to (and thus so often) keep our struggles to ourselves. I know that that's how I was raised, and it's what I did. We keep our failures under wraps, our misfortunes secret and tragedies hushed. Unfortunately, that leaves us very alone exactly when we most need the support of others. What worked best for me was exactly the opposite of what I'd been led to believe. It turns out that one person's painful experiences can become the shared concern of a much larger caring circle. The concern of others, in turn, taught me about strengths that I never knew I had. All those that responded to me in their compassion helped me to develop further and made me stronger.

Then there is a whole other level of spiritual support available to us. Given that we are all God's children, he is there in our pain. First, he accompanies us through the challenges – never leaving our side, whether we welcome him or not. To recognize that opportunity for grace and strength is an amazing blessing. Also, we find him in the struggles of others – if we are willing to look and others are willing to let us see him. This is why it is so important to put it out there. It is an invitation to each other and so, to God, to travel our most difficult roads with us.

The greatest lesson of all has been what I learned about you, those around me. My friends and family have shared their faith and fears with me. I am more intimately familiar with people's triumphs and trials. I know my friends better and have more one-time acquaintances I can now call friends. As a lovely complement, I also have more friends with whom I can share. Some of you have experienced both ends of that firsthand. [This entry was prompted, in fact, by a recent conversation with someone I am sharing more with now than I have in 25 years.]

I've found that the compartments I had set up when beginning to write this were false. The me/life/others construct represents an old, flawed approach. They are all intertwined and keeping them separate is both laborious and fruitless. My ultimate learned lesson about me, others and the space in between is that I am loved by God and his children in so many ways. We all are – in all of our tragic and hopeful brokenness.

The Epiphany 2010

As the "The Epiphany" officially passes on the Church calendar, I reflect on the personal epiphany I had over the holiday break. I had more than one, actually. I was off from a couple of days before Christmas until the Monday after New Years – which amounted to, my own (slightly shifted) 12 days of Christmas. Although I received terrific gifts from my true love through out the period – as I do on every other day that we are together – I also received the grace of God's wisdom.

As many folks do when turning the page on a new calendar year, I wanted to take stock of various aspects of my life during my downtime. For instance, I reviewed our family's finances for the year to figure out just where all that money went and how we might get by with less if we had or chose to. Amongst the many things that I hoped to get done over the break were some spiritual to-dos too. While related to the monetary aspects of life (as much is), these had more to do with how I spend my time. Not that I think that I waste or fritter much of it away, but being so precious, I am very conscious of where I direct it. I prayed over what I could do with my professional time (work life, time for pay, etc.) and where I might want to direct more of my volunteer (free) time. I (re)considered my opportunities on both of those fronts and evaluated my options. We all have alternatives- although we often don't allow ourselves to entertain the full suite of choices that are available to us. I like to periodically revisit the why not of this or that previously made decision. Our situations change in life over time. I know mine has. I am seeing that an illness rapidly ages not only one's body but one' soul. (A recent study that found that older people, if healthy, tend to be much happier than younger folks makes perfect sense to me.) I've grown up (and old) a lot in the past 14 months.

So, like the three wise men of scripture, I went on a journey. I never left the tri-state area but tried to consider the world of options. And, like the magi, my endpoint was very important to me. Still, I was trying to appreciate the seeking as much as the finding. Because ultimately, this is not exactly a new journey for me – though it feels like it sometimes. Every morning is another step on the journey we are all on, the so called life journey. The difference for me is that I am open to different sets of directions these days. Or maybe, more accurately, it's that I am more aware of needing directions; much of what I thought I knew is less certain now.

Given the global business climate and that my employer just merged with another company, I considered what my life after Merck might look like. It would probably mean less money and that translates into less of many other things. The trick is in anticipating whether such a change could offer a net increase in time (the more valuable currency) spent doing the things I most enjoy and/or with those I love. Many of us search for the sweet spot between the tug of work demands, monetary compensation, job satisfaction and the societal benefits of our work. I struggle with whether I currently have those balanced optimally. Getting sick has only made me question the equilibrium of those values more. I find myself talking to friends about variations of this topic constantly in a search for other perspectives. I pray to God to give me the faith, courage and imagination to best use the gifts He gave me.

Then there is that time away from work. Without question, my free time focus is on my babies, family and friends. Beyond that, I have been considering several different volunteer opportunities that center around ministering to the sick. Over the holiday break, I tried to delve into why I was looking at situations that might be (as my friend Linda called them) a little "raw" for me. I realized that getting sick threw me onto a completely unanticipated but distinct path. I believe that I am a cancer survivor (rather than victim) because it is not yet my time. God has some plan for me – as He does for all of us. The trajectory of my journey has forever changed and my tumor was a wake-up call. My challenge is to find out what that calling is and to act upon it. And yet, as time passes, I fear losing that understanding and urgency. Familiarity breeds complacency and soon that lightening in a bottle could dissipate. Working with other folks that are similarly challenged will keep me close to that edge and keep the gift of my cancer alive.

It turns out that my star is an abnormal growth on my pancreas. It was my sign that took me out of my comfortable space and onto a journey – ultimately, to find God in the people around me. Not coincidentally, the more that I opened myself up to others, the more that I found that God was walking the path with me. A way that seemed overgrown suddenly felt well-trod and expansive. This much I know. With God as my GPS, we are working out the directions as I keep stepping.

Is it in Giving that We Receive?

This Advent season was wonderful for me. It was minimally stressful and I managed to make time to wait expectantly for Jesus' birth. I broadened my creative horizons with a couple of exceptional Christmas choral concerts (besides the usual seasonal music at Sunday services) and also considered some Advent poetry. Familial get-togethers and nurtured relationships were all overwhelmingly positive and fulfilling. It is a time of year like no other for getting together with loved ones. But, I struggled with the commercial aspect of Christmas much more this year than ever before. I am not sure why. (In fact, I even had trouble expressing myself evenly for this blog entry.)
I am sure it says something about me, but I have never been very good with gifts – neither giving nor receiving. I am getting better though. I've learned to accept help and love much more readily in the past year. But this season, the consumerism associated with Christmas nearly overwhelmed the many magnificent aspects of the season for me.
I can accept that so much of people's attention and discussion focuses on sales, stores and presents. Ultimately, what threatens to get lost in the shopping is the very reason for the holiday, God's gift to us.
I do recognize that gifts bring joy to many. Still, it seems ironic that ubiquitous consumerism commemorates the humble birth of a poor man who spoke out consistently against economic injustice. The monetary costs of giving challenge those with little, and seem to encourage the haves to Lexus levels of lavishness. The material waste undermines our responsible stewardship of the Earth God gave us. Related to that is the question of how much is enough. Our culture rarely bothers to ask that question; more is always better. Finally, more things imply more clutter (a personal peeve of a former Manhattan studio dweller) which undermines my mental and spiritual clarity. I am not advocating asceticism, but there may be something to a simpler life. Or maybe I am expecting meaning where there isn't any.
We struggle to get the "perfect gift" for our spouses, mothers, sibling and/or friends - a thoughtful something that might say "I love you". I must admit that (much to the chagrin of my family) I struggle with expressing myself that way. Love is, after all, addressing the needs of another. It might be that a trip to Brookstone might be just the ticket. Often, though, our loved ones have told us exactly what they want from us. A gift that can't go on a credit card, is the more difficult to give. Given the choice between stuff and love, genuine love asks much more of us. And yet it is also the much more natural and life-affirming way.

So, we come back to the greatest gift that is the pretext for all of the presents at Christmastime. The Midnight Mass sermon at the Catholic Church in town asked whether - beyond the fact that God is with us, are we ready to be with him? I have experienced the wonderful gift of God's presence in my life as I have faced my most difficult trials. Traveling with him is the greater challenge. That is where the love lies. What more perfect gift to everyone in our lives than to follow his way and walk with him?

I wish everyone a happy and healthy 2010!

Advent Waiting

The weeks leading up to Christmas are a time of expectant waiting. It is intended to be a time of spiritual preparation for the arrival of the baby Jesus. As we all know, the season between Thanksgiving and Christmas often ends up being a stressful time of shopping and social obligations. Chronological time seemingly speeds up daily with ever more to do before the 25th.
But I've come to consider a different kind of time at a Christian Ed class I attended at our excellent church. It is (in Greek) "kairos" which differs from the more usual word for time which is chronos. "In the New Testament kairos means 'the appointed time in the purpose of God', the time when God acts." Visually, I imagine it as a more circular time that (re)turns back in on itself rather than the more straight line time that we are used to. The Advent season including Christmas is a terrific example of kairos – a special time that God set aside filled with wonderful memories. Each year we long to recreate the warmth of childhood with hand-me-down decorations and traditions. For many, it is a safe place that we long to return to every December.
Besides the fond holiday memories, I've had a very different kind of kairos replay in the past couple of weeks. I have been remembering the bittersweet sequence from seeming perfect health to a cancer diagnosis and then ultimately a lifesaving surgery a year ago. Unfortunately, this year's experience is about much more than commemorating my happy anniversary. I am vicariously reliving the surreal progression from a distance as two dear cousins grapple with their own cancers. It is certainly a case of kairos – "of God’s purposes intersecting and overruling this finite world of chronological time."
At a Blue Christmas service this past Sunday night, I was struck again by the difficulty of kairos time. It is, for me, the most difficult challenge that God places before us – to submit gracefully to his timing for us. For instance, I wrestle with the unpleasant kairos possibility of a recurrence of my own cancer. It's a situation where I want time to be straight-arrow linear away from the days when cancer was growing inside of me. Just as God gives us life and health and abilities and wealth – God also gives us disease. Inexplicably (to us), he gives us tragedy. And the very best we can do in response- maybe the only and most impossible thing – is to submit gracefully to his timing and purposes.
The appointed time of Jesus' birth is a convergence of the sacred and the secular, of celebration and consumerism, of kairos and chronos. And each of those both invites and challenges us. May God be with you this season as you wait for the Christmas cookies to come out of the oven, for critical test results, or the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Take a moment to remember what the meaning of Christmas is and submit gracefully to his timing.

November Anniversaries

This past month (or so) included many milestones, anniversaries and news. The instances were good and bad - sometimes wrapped in the same package.

Cancer has been all around, beyond just pancreatic and even more so than usual.
October ended with heartbreaking news for me (again). Tony was a new friend I had been introduced to by a former co-worker. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year before I was. He had the Whipple surgery, chemo and radiation just as I did. Tony was my pace runner of sorts – a survivor whose story I could look to with hope and pride. We compared notes on our lives and lifestyles before our diagnoses and since. He was doing well but was undergoing some more chemo because of some suspicious spots on his lungs. After months of corresponding by email, we had finally met in September. A few weeks later, he had sent out a happy message to announce that the spots had disappeared and he was done with his treatment. Only a few days after I sent him an email of congratulations, I learned that he had passed away after an adverse reaction to a flu shot. It is a devastating tragedy that defies all reason. It is only as I write this that I can finally recognize that I have been angry with my God ever since.

On the eve of November, Halloween was the anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. This year, in stark contrast to last, it was a day to celebrate. After all, I wasn't sure that I was going to make it this far. But, on the flipside of that celebration, is the memory of the most crushingly sad and terrifying days of my life.
The day after Halloween was a glorious day of running the NYC Marathon. I had to do it - to prove that I could and to pick up where I left off last year. And the day after that was my birthday. A day that I feared I would never see. It has been an unforgettable year that can never blend into the 42 others for me.

The memories of my November 2008 are being replayed too vividly as I watch a dear cousin struggle with the painful process of the signs of cancer being confirmed this November. Of a similar age and place in life, I hate that he and his family have to share in this experience. And yet, there is also tremendous love and cause for optimism for him.

As it happens, November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness month. The intent is to raise awareness of the fact that pancreatic cancer is the fourth leading cause of cancer death in the United States—and has the highest mortality rate of all the major cancers. This year, 42,470 Americans will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and 35,240 will die from the disease. The number of new cases and deaths caused by this deadly disease are increasing not decreasing. Again, though very sad, there is still much hope and work to be done.

Like many emotional wounds that never completely heal but serve as lifelong reminders, I am trying to make good use of my awareness. I am willing to offer support to anyone that could use it, but wish more than anything that there was never the need to. Unfortunately, I spoke to two women this month being profoundly affected by pancreatic cancer. The father of one was just diagnosed and the second is a patient seeking out a surgeon herself. It helps us all to know that we are not alone in our struggles and pain. Along those lines, I would like to publicize a group called Imerman Angels. It provides one-on-one cancer support: connecting cancer fighters, survivors and caregivers. Imerman Angels partners a person fighting cancer with someone who has beaten the same type of cancer. Please let others that you think might benefit from such a connection know about them (http://www.imermanangels.org/).

The new month also marks the anniversary of a new beginning for me – Dec. 1st is a year since I had the surgery to remove the evil cancer from my body. It feels as if a huge reservoir of love has been zip-filed into that void. Thank you all for that.

Everything Happens For a Reason

I began writing this entry at a bar on a Friday night, while dinner guests were arriving at my home. I was in the midst of waiting one hour for the next train after my usual 5:12 pulled out one minute early. People say that everything happens for a reason.

I hate that phrase. It strikes me as vague and detached; so amorphous as to be meaningless. The insight of the statement rivals that of observing that "the sun rose again this morning". I recognize that folks mean well when they say it, especially in the absence of anything better. When life seems out to get you and you are getting less than you deserve – it may help to blunt the non-sense of it all. But it sounds passive to me - implying that we should not get angry about or respond to any turn of events, because there is some beyond-us good reason for it.

But that's just it…the important thing is the reason. When it comes to explaining God's will (cosmic forces, fate, or whatever you choose to call it) we can't end up anywhere but short. Our little minds and our limited vantage points can't possibly know the reason why personal tragedies (to pick extreme occurrences) happen. So, the overused cliché attempts to explain away our lack of understanding with ambiguity. Though we may lack the vision to perceive why it's happened, it is solely up to us as to what we make of each day on which the sun has risen. Our free choice can fill the vacuum; we create the reason…or not.
Given that "everything happens for a reason", then there must be a reason that I am still here. My spiritually gifted friend Eric suggested that it was not my time (to go) yet, because God still has a plan for me. That thought made me simultaneously swell with self-importance and cower slightly at the awesome responsibility of it all. Maybe the reason is "merely" Ana and Noah. Though there are too many instances of parents ragically ripped from their families - or (worse) kids taken away from their parents.

My challenge is to identify that reason. I haven't been able to completely discern that yet. I am feeling my way towards it – like looking for that light switch in the dark. Any help, whether human or divine, would be much appreciated. I (only half-) joke about God sending a huge neon arrow to point the way for me.
All I feel I can do sometimes is to put myself in the best position to find out. That, in turn, requires that I get out of my comfort zone. The familiar can anesthetize us to the wondrous potential in life and in people. There is no denying that, like the rising sun, the reasons are right in front of us every day.

Life Changers

There are many things that can change your life. Often they are events or experiences. Sometimes it is people whose paths we cross. Occasionally it will be an object or thing. The intersection may be brief but leave a lasting impression. Or the impact could be deep and yet the effect relatively fleeting.
People will talk about books that changed their lives. Maybe a classic like On The Road that shaped a teenager's aspirations or a memoir that opened up a new world. It could be that BMW that you've always imagined yourself zipping around in; or that charming Victorian in the lovely neighborhood next door to where you grew up.
It might be the grandmother that relayed tales of courage and sacrifice during the war and never shows anything less than boundless respect for everyone she meets. Or the college professor that brought you a world of ideas that you'd never considered before but apply every day.
It could be the end of a loving relationship, the tragic loss of a child or quadruple bypass surgery. This weekend brings together two of the events in my life that have changed me forever.
Saturday the 31st was the first anniversary of my initial cancer diagnosis. It was mid-afternoon last Halloween after my first endoscopy when my serious Syrian GI specialist told me that based on her experience and what she had seen, that I likely had pancreatic cancer. It would be a few days before a biopsy confirmed her dire prognosis. To say that I was stunned is, of course, an understatement. Suddenly empty might describe it better. The saying goes that some things feel like "it was a lifetime ago". The start of this cancer journey for me, almost literally, is. Halloween 2008 is like that day between BC and AD in my personal life.
On Sunday, I ran my sixth NYC Marathon. I was on the verge of running it last year til I started turning orange and evil cancer stood firmly between me and the starting line. Thanks be to God, I was able to drag myself through the 26 miles this year in a respectable 4 hrs and 25 minutes. My slowest time yet – but then again I ain't getting any younger either.
I credit my first marathon experience and every one since with many lessons that prepared me for this cancer marathon. I entered my first one in 1997 just so that I could one day tell my grandkids that their grandpa once ran through his great hometown. I got much, much more than mere intergenerational bragging rights out of that run. Most importantly, I discovered that there is nothing that I cannot do if I put my all into it. Also, I learned to appreciate that not all suffering is automatically a bad thing to be avoided at any cost. Finally, I developed a sensitivity to the goings-on in my body that I still relish and has served me well throughout this illness.
As it turned out, several of my life changers have built upon each other. I've read the book, had the teachers and many friends, listened to grandmothers and watched loving relationships end. Each seems, in hindsight, to be a deliberate preparation for this ultimate life changer. I imagine and hope that it won't be my last.
Today was yet another significant day – my 43rd birthday. Now that I've run the race, I am just holding out til the grandkids arrive so that I can tell 'em the story.


PS – The thing about life changers is that they are not automatic. They can be brushed under the heavy carpet of our life's history. It may be easier not to alter our comfortable trajectory. But potential life changers ignored are like opportunities for growth left on the table - and that is nothing short of a terrible shame.