April 29, 2006
April’s almost gone. We’ve gotten enough rain in the last hours for water to fill the paths through the wetlands; it’s the brief Nebraska promise of lush excess that fades much too quickly as hot sun and wind return. I started the day reaching for the Oxycodone since the kidney’s response to my first movements took my breath away. “Hello, Rush Limbaugh” I thought, since he hit the news yesterday with his addiction to yes, Oxycodone. Great news, that. . . surely I won’t be pathetically pleading for more and more at some future date.(!) Later, I commented to Charles that we needed to get dog food, and he, just removing his rain gear from his morning walk with Alphie in the rain, replied, “Yes, that, and I have the big rehearsal, then I have to practice for tomorrow’s services, then I need to do some cleaning. . . ” and I began to tear up thinking about his constant struggle to keep up with all of life’s detail. I immediately felt a need to apologize for getting weepy, thus making it impossible for him to even comment, and he finally said, “Look, I haven’t come remotely close to singing the ‘Poor Me’ song. . .” then he added thoughtfully, “I’m not even sure what key that would be in.” This had us both laughing, and later we sashayed down the stairs wonderfully coordinated hip-to-hip and step-to-step as we moved onward into the rest of our day.
I was invited to a breakfast with women I have known over the years, but with whom I have not become close. They are a group who have met on Saturday mornings to share a meal and life’s experiences for many years, so I was today’s new element. As the conversation evolved, I asked them to give commentary on the subject of “suffering” and in the ensuing discourse, it became apparent to me that I was in the company of people who had dealt first hand with all aspects of this part of the human experience. In recounting past times of awful pain with dreadful illnesses, one said, “I got to the point where I wanted to die. . . I really just wanted to die.” Faith and a husband’s appeal saw her through that time, she said, and she determined to do her best and go on. I have not been there, where I wanted to die, and I sat there and looked at this woman whose brief commentary revealed so much about a journey already taken which had to have held more pain and suffering than I can imagine. She should have had a huge gathering of medals pinned across her front for courage and faith and grit. We all spoke of God and the impossibility of imagining lives lived outside of the hands of God and the faith community. I drove home considering how fine my life really is, once again thankful for the good stuff, including Charles, dear ones, friends, Oxycodone, Lovenox, and Alphie.