Grief is Better than Laughter?

 A chiming doorbell on my cell phone signaled I’d received a text message.  “How’s your day?”

I’m so grateful for friends checking in with me.  Otherwise my human interaction is limited these days to nurses, strangers in a hospital cafeteria and a frequently sleepy mom…we’re blaming it on Compazine for her nausea. 

My reply text, “4 hrs sleep. Got thrown up on. Cried to see mom so sick. Ate junk 4 lunch for comfort. And just got beat at cards cos mom was bored. Good day.”  I no longer ask or desire for my days to flow flawlessly.  I’m choosing to embrace reality and to thank God for every moment, even if I’m saying, “Thank you, God” through tears.

I used to puzzle over Ecclesiastes 7:3, “Grief is better than laughter…” Today I’m rethinking that.  I’ve grieved much these past few months, mostly related to mom’s multiple myeloma and all she has suffered in this process for hope of healing.  There have been days when I have forced a laugh, feigned a smile trying to put up a good front.  But the tears…those have all been real.  Laughter can be faked but grieving cannot.  Grieving is honest.  In that respect, Scripture holds true. Grief IS better than laughter.

“Do not ask why the old days were better than these, for that is a foolish question.”  Ecc. 7:10

We’re often tempted to look back over the “old days” and tell ourselves those were better days.  Past pain diminishes. Foggy recall occludes accurate details.  Selective memory clings to positive while it ferrets out, then dismisses negative…well, at least in those who favor optimism.  Whether a fact, tainted sentiment or complete denial, ascribing “good” to the past can easily be accomplished if we so choose.  But today, when my heart is aching over mom’s suffering, when I smell like vomit, I’m coming down from a self-inflicted sugar high,  I’m sleep deprived and I can’t seem to stop my eyes from leaking, “Thank you God” has a much different feel to it.  I’m steeped in the misery of this day and still I’m choosing to say THIS is a good day.  Why?  Because I was blessed to spend time with someone I love.  Because any “bad day” side-by-side with a loved one is better than the most beautiful day without love. And because God sees my day, sees how it pales in comparison to what mom is dealing with and He graces me with divine perspective…compared to what His Son went through at Calvary, this is a very good day.

“Consider God’s handiwork: who can straighten what he has made crooked? When things go well, be glad.  When things go ill, consider this: God has set the one alongside the other in such a way that no one can find out what is to happen next…man is greatly troubled by ignorance of the future.  Who can tell him what it will bring? It is not in man’s power to restrain the wind and no one has power over the day of death.  In war, no one can lay aside his arms, no wealth can save its possessors.”  Ecc 7:13-14; 8:6-8

Control is an illusion.  I can’t predict what will happen and I am powerless to control outcomes.  The only thing I can fully control is how my heart will respond to the here and now.  By God’s mercy, as long as I have breath in my body, I get to decide one day at a time to say “Thank You, God” even when grief overshadows laughter.

The Lifter of My Head

My dear friend David Templeton has never met a stranger.  On a Colorado hike with him several years ago I noticed he always greets others, even total strangers by looking them in the eye and saying hello.  David is intentional about acknowledging everyone and he shines with enthusiasm as he does so.  I decided that day on our trail in the Rocky Mountains I would do likewise and I committed to being an encourager every chance I get.   I believe noticing people honors them.  Maybe their day is even brightened when they receive a warm smile and a cheerful Hello.

Somewhere along this cancer journey with mom I lost my will to look people in the eye.  I became aware of it yesterday afternoon walking down a hospital corridor, my head hanging.  My eyes have frequently filled with tears these past few days especially.   I can’t stand pity but in my tearful state, pity often stares back at me in the expressions of nurses, other caregivers, even strangers in ICU & the hospital cafeteria.  I feared if I saw concern in the eyes of others I would “lose it”, cry all over them.   A couple of times I almost did.  So I put my head down and everywhere I walked I stared at my feet. 

Last night I received an email from another precious friend, this one clear across the world.  She was up in the middle of her night praying for mom and me and she wrote, “may you both be used as an encouragement and witness of God’s greatness, peace and mercy for all the doctors, nurses, families, patients you encounter.  He is GOOD.  He loves you both.” 

There was a strong message in her words, “be an encouragement…”

Living in the midst of anguish does not extinguish the Light of Christ in us.   There is much darkness and despair in an ICU.  If God sees fit to put Momma here, it is for His Glory.  Who am I to hang my head and perpetuate the despair?  My friend is right, God is GOOD.  All the time.  That is not a simple saying.  It is Truth.   

At the end of her shift this evening, Momma’s nurse who has been an ICU RN for 12 years came in to our room to say “good night”.  She leaned into my sweet mother and spoke sincerely, “It has been an honor and privilege to care for you.”  Despite all her suffering, my mother had been a strong witness of God’s greatness, peace and mercy for this nurse. 

I pray that I can do as much as I trust the One Who is the Lifter of my head.

 “But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.”  Psalm 3:3 ESV

Somebody’s Praying

I’m sitting in ICU watching my mom sleep soundly for the first time in days.  With her WBC still at 0.0, we are in a critical time with this cancer battle.  The last 48 hours have tested my faith like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, especially last night as mom’s decline worsened hourly.  I wish I could tell you that I was strong through it all but I wasn’t…watching a loved one close to the brink of eternity shakes me to the core especially when that loved one has been for me the person I’ve leaned on more than anyone else throughout my entire life. 

Glancing up at a monitor, I read beautiful numbers 100/54 and 98, up from last night when they were 67/33 and 52.  Who knew readings for blood pressure and heart rate could make time seem to stand still?  In what I consider the most painful night I’ve ever endured, helpless to change abhorrent side effects of chemo treatments for multiple myeloma wreaking havoc on my dear mother, I cried out to God and reached out to friends through quick texts, pleading for prayer.  At all kinds of unholy hours, you relinquished sleep to intercede for us and replies poured in…

 “the Lord your God is with YOU, Di…He is with your mother as well…He is mighty to save”

“His love is unshakable, though the mountains be moved to the sea, His love cannot fail…”

“PRAYING!!!”

“Even as much as I love you, God loves you infinitely more. Trust Him.”

“Nothing is out of His control. Use the wisdom and discernment He gives you minute by minute and trust Him for the rest.”

“Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.”

“You have the mind of Christ. His power is made perfect in weakness. Clothe yourself in Him now and stay there.  There are angels ministering to you and your mom.”

“Do not fear for I am with you. Do not anxiously look about for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you by My Righteous Right Hand.”

If “faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God”, then surely God was speaking through His precious saints last night & today to strengthen my faith.   His Word and your prayers {and someone willing to take my frantic call at 3:40 a.m.} carried me through 40 hours with only 90 minutes of sleep.  We feel your love, support & prayers.  We are profoundly grateful.