Glimmers of Grace

This morning I began writing a blog entry about chaos and the futility of trying to tame it. I didn't finish it before Jess and I packed up Andrew and headed to the hospital for his first scheduled clinic visit and the MBIG test. The MBIG is a scan in which an isotope is injected into the blood stream which apparently can make cancer light up like a Christmas tree. It is the final diagnostic tool and at this point probably more of a base line marker for future tests than anything else. Long story short we spent the better part of the day in Charlottesville and, when I returned to my writing, I found that I couldn't finish the entry I began, I was just not in that place any more.

Over the last few days I have struggled with my powerlessness to help my son who hasn't really been able to keep much down, my inability to spend adequate time with my other kids who are still feeling the lack of attention of the past two weeks, my lack of answers for my wife who is seeking them, and what seems like the impossibility of keeping any sort of mental focus while I'm at the office. The more I tried the worse things got. It was as if I heard the words of Princess Leia in my ear, "The more you tighten your grip Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers,"... except my name's not Tarkin and I'm talking about day to day life issues not conquering the galaxy, but you get the picture.

Those who know me well know that one of the consistent ways in which God presses upon me is in showing me my finitude. You know, that little attribute of ours that says that we are only creatures, that we are limited. Yeah... I hate that one. This week has done nothing but bring that into living color. Add to my own struggles the string of miscommunications and lack of communication from our doctors in regards to medications to combat Andrew's nausea that clearly haven't worked and you get one stressed out dad. Last night I felt as though I was trying my best to rope a whirlwind and it just kept spinning out of control.

Tonight I feel different. On the one hand that is circumstantial; the docs gave us some clearer plan with Andrew's nausea and it has worked. On the other hand some of it is relational. Andrew's MIBG test was a two hour procedure in which he was sedated. For cancer parents that means you have a babysitter and we took advantage. My wife and I sat and ate lunch together and talked some about business and some about nothing at all. Then, seeing that we still had plenty of time and the warmest day in weeks, we decided to take a walk around UVA. It was a wonderful gift. The chaos was still going on but, in the midst of it, was the place of repose. It was like sitting in the eye of a hurricane and having a picnic. For some reason that I cannot quite explain I left that time more comfortable with my finitude, more at home in my creatureliness.

I suppose if I were to be pressed for an answer I would say that, on an experiential level, the Gospel was preached to me today. What is the Gospel if not the message that, because of the work of Jesus, the shalom of God can break into the chaos of our fallenness and that it comes not as a wage to be earned but a gift to be received? You see my sense of chaos wasn't all based on our situation. More than the situation, my panic at the whirlwind came because I knew that I could rope it, that I should be able to rope it, but I couldn't. I wanted to be more than I was, a creature dependent on Another. Today my wife and I received the gift of rest and we weren't drawn out of the situation, a kind of gnostic escapism, but instead the rest came to us in the midst of the wreckage around us. That, in a very real sense, is the Gospel. Jesus comes into the wreckage of our lives, wreckage often created by our own resistance at being dependent, and gives the gift of rest to the weary, pardon to the guilty, strength to the weak. This gift though is not just some experience, a kind of existential warm fuzzy. This gift is his very life and death and resurrection. Because of this gift, its ok to be finite. If the Gospel is true then I don't have to wrap my arms around every whirlwind because the chaos won't win. Right now I believe that... right now.

When Andrew came home he ate two pancakes, some cucumbers, and a cupcake and a half (sorry the food pyramid goes out the window when you are trying to get your kid to get as many calories as possible without hurling). After dinner we all sat around the living room reading and playing... Andrew even won at Candyland. In the midst of all the chaos of this week some shalom broke in. I can't speak for tomorrow but tonight I was willing to receive that as the gift it was, the gift of the glimmer of grace.