God Don't Make Me

I've seen a lot of things in 42 years of life.

Friends and family diagnosed with cancer that I hope to see again in Heaven.

Friends diagnosed with cancer that I high-five in the park while running.

Dear friends who have lost their babies in the womb and others that were given minutes, days, precious weeks with them before they had to say goodbye.

Other friends who have watched their partners walk out the door, while they picked up the pieces.

Mothers and fathers who have lost their jobs, their quality of life, their will to live.

Hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, floods that have ravaged homes, neighborhoods, communities, memories and turned people into refugees fleeing the only life they've known.

I've seen children abused, neglected, humiliated and yet, hopeful, yearning not to repeat familial cycles as they beg for a shot at a dream.

Alcohol and drug use.  Rehab.  Accidents.  Tirades.  Promises that it won't happen again.

When you live long enough, you realize that the world is broken and that humanity is infinitely fragile.

And when you're in the thick of whatever you've been given, the first question or cry that comes to mind is, "Why?" and then, "When will it be over?"And finally, "Please, God, don't make me do this."

***

Not long ago, I was sifting through old letters and family photos, while trying to decide what I could do to catalog or memorialize them, I remembered a talk with my grandma while she was dying.  She lost her own mother when she was 16-years old and as an only child had to grow up quickly to care for her father.  Toward the end of her life after battling multiple forms of cancer, poked and prodded regularly with needles that could barely get at thin, withering veins, she said, "When times are tough, dive into the pain.  It's the only thing that will set you free and bring the joy."

The day before she died, I drove all night to get home and lay down next to her in her bed.  She couldn't talk, but I remember the Hospice nurse saying that she could hear.  I told her, "I'll live into the pain." 

It's a tricky thing.  No one wants to suffer or hurt, especially in a prolonged way.  There are times when a diagnosis is unveiled, but other times, it's smaller things on the horizon that we know we must find a way to endure (bad work situation, rough patch in a marriage, child struggling at school, an unforeseen expense) that we really don't want to.  And in many respects, feel like we're good people and we shouldn't have to.

But then, I remember what my grandmother said, "The only way out is through, even if you don't want to."  And so, it is.  The only way to experience the deepest beauty of joy is to experience the belly of sorrow.  Even so, I still cry out, "God don't make me."