White Noise

All of my children sleep with a sound machine. The trend began with Madi's sensory issues and continued for the simple reason that they drown out whatever is going on outside of the room. Drowning out... that is a good way to describe the last few months. I feel like I have been soothed to sleep by the sweet sound of forgetfulness. As the season has changed however, the trees showing the sure signs of the march of time in shades of red and yellow, it seems as if this sound is growing quieter and quieter. Let me explain.

For several months now our family has been really normal. The occasional trip to UVA for what seems like routine appointments do little to cloud the fact that our day to day lives are pretty standard; dropping the girls off at school, boys running, jumping, climbing, meals, snacks, average. Lately, small intrusions into this wonderful world of average have become more frequent. There was the visit from the two young women, volunteers from Make-A-Wish giving us our itinerary and gifts for an upcoming trip to Disney. There is the paper chain counting down days till we leave on said trip. Then of course there is today, Andrew's birthday.

Andrew's birthday will forever be joined to our cancer story because it was his birthday a year ago that we were noticing this cough that wouldn't go away. It was a year ago that we began the march toward the crucible that was December and January. It is hard for the forgetfulness to keep lulling me when such unwanted reminders of reality begin pushing in. Today really begins for us a season of remembrance that, frankly, I would rather not do.

The promotional materials for the resort we will stay at next week, Give Kids the World, note that they strive to help kids forget about the doctors and hospitals, their reality, and have a wonderful time. I wonder if, for us, it will do the exact opposite. As strange as it sounds this trip shatters the illusion that things are normal, that we are normal. Normal families don't get all expense paid trips to theme parks. Normal families don't have badges on their chest that allow them to bypass lines. Normal families aren't told to bring an extra bag for all the stuff that will be given to them. These graces are given to those that have suffered or are suffering. They are gifts meant to both acknowledge that pain and ease it if possible. This trip, from the moment we are picked up to head to the airport to the moment we are dropped off again is a constant silencing of that forgetful sound that has drowned out our reality for the last few months.

The desire for forgetfulness is strong. There is something so powerful in us that reacts to painful circumstances by wanting them to simply go away. We make incredible commitments, internal vows, to avoid thinking about that pain, to not speak about it, and to cover it over as best we can with platitudes. In Christian circles we spiritualize this and sometimes even make it into a virtue. We ask what the possible value can be of dredging up the past and generally demand that everyone else be as committed to our fantasy that none of that ever happened as we are. The problem is it did happen and refusing to look at that has consequences.

The first consequence is that we act differently today because of those painful events. Every time my son has a cough, no matter how irrational I know it to be, I cannot but wonder if his tumor has returned. I have a very difficult time moving in compassion towards others who are struggling with children with a serious illness because it reminds me of my own pain; my love for them is handicapped by my refusal to remember. There are others but I won't belabor the point. What we experienced in the past has an immediate impact on how we act today. If we refuse to enter into those events we will keep doing what we're doing without much reflection and hurt others without much awareness.

The second consequence is that we cannot acknowledge the ways in which God was active in our suffering and pain. This is why God seems to constantly ask his people to practice the discipline of remembrance. So often the Israelites were called to remember their slavery, remember their leaving of Egypt, remember their wandering in the wilderness, remember all that God had done. My guess is many of them would have rather not remembered being homeless in the desert or the terror of not knowing day in and day out whether they would be taken care of but if they didn't remember that they also wouldn't remember how God had walked with them through it. They wouldn't have remembered how God was using that pain and struggle to draw them ever closer to himself and prepare them for life in the land of promise. When we commit to living with the sound of forgetfulness drowning out our reality we also refuse to acknowledge God's work and action through that.

I guess I say all this to remind me that it is good that this season is beginning. That doesn't mean will be comfortable for me, it won't be. I will have to remember that my son still has tumor in his chest. I will have to remember the terror and powerlessness of hearing the diagnosis. I will have to remember and sit in the fear of losing my son, the fear of pain and the unknown. I will be forced to also grapple with the grace of God who heard my prayers. When that sound machine turns off in the coming months I will have to come face to face with what is really going on in my heart but it won't destroy me because the same God who walked with me through the pain last year will be near to me as I walk through the ramifications of it today.