Thursday, March 28, 2013
7:22 AM | Posted by
Unknown
Last week, while Elaine was having surgery to remove her cancer, I had time to think for a few hours. It occurred to me how quietly the world went on its usual business around me while my wife was having a life-changing operation in the rooms above me. No one noticed, no one was there to offer comfort or help me pass the time by occupying my thoughts elsewhere. I was there, alone in the hospital with nothing but time on my hands to wait until I heard word from the doctor.
I find it interesting that when we have milestones we usually have celebrations, gatherings to commemorate the accomplishment of another year lived, that promotion, the new baby, marriage, anniversary, retirement, etc. But when we have moments of suffering, for whatever reason, people feel uncomfortable, so they stay away. If we are lucky we have one or two people who love us enough to be there to offer support and comfort during the time of hardship. But even then, the real pain is a personal experience, one that cannot be truly shared by another.
How does one share in a broken heart? How does one share the loss of future opportunities or privileges with another person. This is a very personal kind of pain. If I want to get married, but no one will marry me, if I want to have children, but am denied that opportunity, if I am losing my loved one to death, drugs or bad company, how does that get shared? Others can be in the room with me. Others can offer their sympathies or weep with me, but it is still my pain, my loss, my moment of suffering.
I am so grateful that we have, in those private moments of our own Gethsemane, one who truly knows us and knows more deeply that we do the pain we are feeling. He and he alone can fill our souls with the peace and love that settles our fears and brings back peace to our hearts that the pain will not last, that our suffering will be but for a moment, and that joy will be ours in the morning. It is the faith in him that helps us look past what we are experiencing and look with hope to another day when all wrongs will be righted and there will be no more suffering ever again.
This is my peace in the privacy of my pain.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
I have been comparing notes and quietly making observations for years. My initial suspicions seem to be playing out. Have you ever noticed how long about age 45-50 each time you go to the stylist/barber you seem to come home with more gray in your hair than when you left home to go to get your hair cut?
Each time I come home from my barber I hear the same comment from Elaine; "Wow, where did all that gray come from?" I don't know what class they teach in the Barber and Beauty schools these days, but they have to be secretly teaching the students how to put gray hair into the customers' heads. Elaine just came home from the hair cutting place this last weekend and the same thing happened to her. She had this nice, "new" shock of gray in the front of her hair that hadn't been there the day before.
I used to think it was age that would make me look old, or perhaps too much sun, or too many years around my own children, but now I know the truth, it's my barber.
Each time I come home from my barber I hear the same comment from Elaine; "Wow, where did all that gray come from?" I don't know what class they teach in the Barber and Beauty schools these days, but they have to be secretly teaching the students how to put gray hair into the customers' heads. Elaine just came home from the hair cutting place this last weekend and the same thing happened to her. She had this nice, "new" shock of gray in the front of her hair that hadn't been there the day before.
I used to think it was age that would make me look old, or perhaps too much sun, or too many years around my own children, but now I know the truth, it's my barber.
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