Note: my mother's diagnosis came months before I had the courage to start this blog. Much has happened in four months, and I want to share what I have learned. I feel the need to start at the beginning. So, even though today's date is April, my posts initially will reflect my thoughts from the beginning, December 2006, until I get caught up. Thanks for being patient with me.
Christmas, 2006: A Note to My Pastor
Dear R,
I often sit in church and believe that your sermons speak to me personally, and I wonder how you knew. Sometimes I almost feel like I am the only one sitting there, your words are so personal and they are speaking directly to me and surely no one else.
A few weeks ago you spoke about people crying in church and I smiled, recalling the countless times this has happened to me, particularly before during and after my divorce. Church was the one place I felt completely safe and cared for and the tears flowed endlessly. In a way, it was very cleansing!
When you spoke this time, I did not cry. I simply smiled and understood your message that we cry in church because we are home. I also smiled because at that moment everything in my life was going well and I had no reason to cry. So instead, as I also often do while sitting in our church, I thanked God that I am welcome here, that me and my family have this faith community in our lives. I am grateful and awed by the experience of just belonging.
Then came the holiday weekend and the news that my mother has cancer and surgery and treatments will begin in the next few weeks. I spent much of the weekend driving from one useless holiday errand to the next, trying to process the news of my mother having cancer. In the newness of this, the questions are endless and the grief feels boundless. I don't know of course whether this cancer will take my mother from me, but I know that I am simply not ready to live in this world without my mother.
As soon as that thought enters I think of all the people I know who have lost their mothers, some as children and others as adults. I imagine that they must feel an emptiness that cannot be fixed. I feel for each and every one of them, and yet, I don't want to join their club ...
So I came to all of the services you offered this holiday weekend and yes, I cried this time. First there was the pageant, which was lovely but not enough to ease my pain, I needed more. Then the family service came and the beauty of the candles and the living nativity offered me some peace, a little chip at the grief that was beginning to consume my every thought.
Then Christmas Day I arrived very late to service and of course no one glared at me or made me feel unwelcome. I took my seat and closed my eyes and thanked God again that I had this place to keep returning to, to be safe in my thoughts and to know that God is with me. And at that moment a message came to me as clear as if it were whispered in my ear and the message was: this Christmas, your mother is here ... It may seem that the message meant that she would not be here next year, and I can't explain why I did not hear that, all that I understood was that I was supposed to enjoy this day.
And I was, finally, able to smile through my tears, because I knew that this message was all that I needed at that moment in time. That message changed a holiday that I was afraid to share - I had spent the weekend being afraid of Monday, afraid to visit my family and to talk out loud about my mother's cancer - afraid to see my sister's and brothers' faces, afraid of what's next in our lives as a family. But after church on Monday, I was no longer afraid. I was simply happy to have this day and this family and this church. My heart was grateful for what was right in front me.
So, I guess the real reason I am writing this letter is to say thank you to you for having not one, but three services this weekend. I needed them all! And I appreciate that this was a huge commitment of your family time and an awesome undertaking. I know that all churches did not elect this route this year and many had just the Christmas Eve services.
Thank you, R., for all of your work this weekend, and always. I am sure you will never know completely how you and this church community nourish and support its members, and I just wanted to say thank you.
And yes, our family had a wonderful holiday and I am hopeful that yours did as well.
Gratefully yours,
S.
Christmas, 2006: A Note to My Pastor
Dear R,
I often sit in church and believe that your sermons speak to me personally, and I wonder how you knew. Sometimes I almost feel like I am the only one sitting there, your words are so personal and they are speaking directly to me and surely no one else.
A few weeks ago you spoke about people crying in church and I smiled, recalling the countless times this has happened to me, particularly before during and after my divorce. Church was the one place I felt completely safe and cared for and the tears flowed endlessly. In a way, it was very cleansing!
When you spoke this time, I did not cry. I simply smiled and understood your message that we cry in church because we are home. I also smiled because at that moment everything in my life was going well and I had no reason to cry. So instead, as I also often do while sitting in our church, I thanked God that I am welcome here, that me and my family have this faith community in our lives. I am grateful and awed by the experience of just belonging.
Then came the holiday weekend and the news that my mother has cancer and surgery and treatments will begin in the next few weeks. I spent much of the weekend driving from one useless holiday errand to the next, trying to process the news of my mother having cancer. In the newness of this, the questions are endless and the grief feels boundless. I don't know of course whether this cancer will take my mother from me, but I know that I am simply not ready to live in this world without my mother.
As soon as that thought enters I think of all the people I know who have lost their mothers, some as children and others as adults. I imagine that they must feel an emptiness that cannot be fixed. I feel for each and every one of them, and yet, I don't want to join their club ...
So I came to all of the services you offered this holiday weekend and yes, I cried this time. First there was the pageant, which was lovely but not enough to ease my pain, I needed more. Then the family service came and the beauty of the candles and the living nativity offered me some peace, a little chip at the grief that was beginning to consume my every thought.
Then Christmas Day I arrived very late to service and of course no one glared at me or made me feel unwelcome. I took my seat and closed my eyes and thanked God again that I had this place to keep returning to, to be safe in my thoughts and to know that God is with me. And at that moment a message came to me as clear as if it were whispered in my ear and the message was: this Christmas, your mother is here ... It may seem that the message meant that she would not be here next year, and I can't explain why I did not hear that, all that I understood was that I was supposed to enjoy this day.
And I was, finally, able to smile through my tears, because I knew that this message was all that I needed at that moment in time. That message changed a holiday that I was afraid to share - I had spent the weekend being afraid of Monday, afraid to visit my family and to talk out loud about my mother's cancer - afraid to see my sister's and brothers' faces, afraid of what's next in our lives as a family. But after church on Monday, I was no longer afraid. I was simply happy to have this day and this family and this church. My heart was grateful for what was right in front me.
So, I guess the real reason I am writing this letter is to say thank you to you for having not one, but three services this weekend. I needed them all! And I appreciate that this was a huge commitment of your family time and an awesome undertaking. I know that all churches did not elect this route this year and many had just the Christmas Eve services.
Thank you, R., for all of your work this weekend, and always. I am sure you will never know completely how you and this church community nourish and support its members, and I just wanted to say thank you.
And yes, our family had a wonderful holiday and I am hopeful that yours did as well.
Gratefully yours,
S.
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