I’m not even sure where to begin this post.
Sometimes, I feel like a whiny child with God. Although, I am the first one to count our blessings, my heart still feels the heaviness of the things that aren’t right.
It often feels like we go around with blinders on to what’s happening to others. It’s not that I don’t sympathize with people or even empathize, but there is so much with us, I don’t have time for anyone/thing else. This goes back to me feeling kind of like Hard Hearted Hannah.
Well, recently, I stumbled upon some truly gasp-deserving news that breaks the pieces of my heart.
Adam was one grade below me in high school. He played basketball with Danny and was always a good friend. It wasn’t like we were close and it’s not like we’ve kept in touch over these past many years, but we both remember times with Adam with a smile.
Adam is married, has a daughter and twin boys Corbin’s age.
Adam has cancer.
I was beside myself and wondered how something like this happens to someone so young. I bet a lot of you thought the same about Danny.
Short of a miracle, at this point, there isn’t anything modern medicine can do for Adam. We know who the Great Physician is and we cling to Him for Adam.
The only tragedy isn’t that Adam may pass and the heartbreak to his family and friends, but the tragedy is that sometimes it takes one for us to realize that we don’t have it so bad after all.
I am struck in the gut for Adam’s wife. I don’t even know what to write here. Everything I type about me and our journey and in some lame attempt to say that I understand has missed the mark. It sounds selfish and this isn’t about me.
Death is a funny subject. I know that sounds morbid.
What I mean, is that there are different types of death. There is the physical death of our bodies which we all will experience. There are deaths to relationships and businesses.
There is also the living dead.
For a long time, Danny felt this way. He lived as though he wished he were dead, that he had died, that instead of that 80ft skid mark, he just throttled on. Danny is definitely a “glass half empty” kind of guy.
And, sometimes, he just feels sorry for himself.
So, you know what I do? I play the Adam card.
“Adam may not be able to see his kids swim in the pool this summer, but you can. Just because you’re in that stupid chair doesn’t mean you’re not a dad or a husband. Be thankful you can be here for your son. Adam may not be able to be for his.”
I know it’s a bit of a guilt trip I put him on, but a trip to “glass half full” is worth it, right?
I hope this post doesn’t make Adam and his families’ situation sound trite. I pray for them daily and as a fellow wilderness walker, I do empathize. I am stunned and beside myself and begin to ask God the same questions for them as I do for us.
Are we there yet?
Please pray for my friend Adam. The cancer has spread to his brain and his lungs and he is at home now. Pray for his family, for his wife and his three children. God is good, all the time.
