Not a Vacuum

My wife, Jennifer showed me a funny video. Perhaps you’ve seen it already. At the time of this writing nearly 1.7 million views have already happened, and I am sure it’s one of those youtube sensations that will keep circling the net for a long time to come. It’s called Man Cold.

I can just hear all you ladies out there saying isn’t that just how it is. In defense of us men I’d like to say that colds truly are worse for men than women. After all, not only do we have a cold, but we also feel rotten. See what I mean. (Poor little bunny!)

Besides the man-poking fun of this video, it does demonstrate one thing very accurately- The problem with getting sick, really sick is that it doesn't happen in a vacuum. It happens to all those around you.

The day I found out that I had cancer I wanted to get home and tell Jennifer. I needed a partner in this tough news. I needed someone to help me walk through it. And she was there for me. She took the news and womaned up. Strength. Lord knows I was lacking it. I gained it back through her.

The next step was to tell my children. Both of them are basically adults, so it would be wrong to try to sugar coat it. But, it felt so wrong to do this to their world. I was involved in youth ministry for around twenty years. During that time I worked with so many students whose lives were turned upside down by the loss or the severe sickness of a parent. I knew how painful it was for those young lives to live through those situations. My role as a parent is to provide and protect, and this felt like it would be the opposite. “I was at the doctor today and it turns out I have cancer.” That was a hard thing to do.

But then again, they are made of tougher stuff than me. They took it well. They were ready to see me through it. We prayed together and started the process of moving on to the next thing together.

If there was some sort of cosmic pain ticket out there that and every family needed to take one, then put me at the front of the line for my home. I don’t want anyone else in my home to take that ticket. I have friends that were not given that privilege. I have watched good parents have a child be born with a hole in his heart. I have seen parents whose son dies of cancer. Whose daughter is born with Down’s Syndrome. If the condition were a ticket, I know in every case that the mother or father would gladly take that ticket away from their child and take it to themselves.

Isn’t that what Jesus did for us? Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. Yes, he took one ticket for all of us. (Thank You, Jesus.) But we are not so fortunate to have that ability. We each take the tickets we are handed and they are non-transferable. So I am glad it’s me and not one of them.

Having said that, I come back to the idea that this whole thing is not in the vacuum of just me. The prognosis was not just that I had cancer, it was that me and my loved ones would have to deal with cancer. My family has rallied around me and given me the support that I needed to go through this. (Thank you, Jennifer, Matthew, and Megan [ and Riley {he’s our dog} and Mosby {he’s our bunny}])

But the circle of help has not ended there. There is our extended family, friends, and church. We have been so rallied around that it is absolutely amazing. From meal deliveries and ice cream runs and movie lending and mortgage deliveries and cards and gifts and words of encouragement and prayers and support and stories of hope and visits and so much more.

As a result I feel so not alone. I feel like this is all doable because I have so such a great family, and such wonder friends, and such an amazing church to walk through all this together. Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. (Ecclesiasties 4:12)

With all my heart, thank you for your love and support and prayers.