A feeling of helplessness came over me in the doctor’s office. I had regained control of my life after the false accusation and here I was asking somebody else to tell me about my life, my body. Remembering that moment now, I think of God and his plan for me. I think of others, too, who sit in a state of absolute anxiety as they wait to hear from doctors what their fate will be. I now realize that when I asked my doctor for the test results, I had to let go of everything. Again. God was teaching me just how little control we really have and how important it is to trust in him. I needed God at that moment, as I had needed him before.
One of the things I have noticed about illness is that it draws you inside yourself. When we are ill, we tend to focus on our own pain and suffering. We may feel sorry for ourselves or become depressed. But by focusing on Jesus’s message–that through suffering we empty ourselves and are filled with God’s grace and love–we can begin to think of other people and their needs; we become eager to walk with them in their trials. My decision to discuss my cancer openly and honestly has sent a message that when we are ill, we need not close in on ourselves, or remove ourselves from others. Instead, it is during these times when we need people the most.
I have tried to live my life openly and honestly with a deep commitment to the Lord, the Church, and the human community. The past three years (since the accusation against me) have challenged me like never before to hold firm to my beliefs and trust in the Lord. But my main point has been to put my faith into action, to live out the principles that guide my life. Above all else, I want people to know that I walk with them as their brother, their friend.
One memory in particular I want to share happened when I was four or five. It was summertime and our family was visiting friends. My father had recently undergone cancer-related surgery on his left shoulder, and he was wearing a bandage under a white short-sleeved shirt. I was sitting on a metal railing on the porch of our friends’ home, when suddenly I fell backwards, hit the ground, and started crying. My father immediately jumped the rail and picked me up. As he held me in his arms, I could see blood soaking through his shirt. He paid no attention to himself; all he wanted was to be sure I was all right. My father’s ability to transcend his own illness and share in the joy of his family and friends now inspires me as I try to do the same. Today I think of him and know that he is alive in me in more ways than I had ever imagined.
I learned many years ago that the only way I could give quality time to prayer was by getting up early in the morning. (I must add parenthetically that I didn’t have a great desire to get up so early–I usually tried to stay in bed as late as I could.) In the early hours of the morning, before the phones and doorbells started to ring, before the mail arrived, seemed to me to be the best for spending quality time with the Lord. So I promised God and myself that I would give the first hour of each day to prayer. This doesn’t mean that I’ve learned how to pray perfectly. It doesn’t mean that I have not experienced the struggles that other people have faced. Quite the contrary. But early on, I made another decision. I said, Lord, I know that I spend a certain amount of that morning hour of prayer daydreaming, problem-solving, and I’m not sure that I can cut that out. I’ll try, but the im- portant thing is, I’m not going to give that time to anybody else. So even though it may not connect me as much with you as it should, nobody else is going to get that time.
It is the first day of November, and fall is giving way to winter. Soon the trees will lose the vibrant colors of their leaves and snow will cover the ground. The earth will shut down, and people will race to and from their destinations bundled up for warmth. Chicago winters are harsh. It is a time of dying. But we know that spring will soon come with all its new life and wonder. It is quite clear that I will not be alive then. But I will soon experience new life in a different way. Although I do not know what to expect in the afterlife, I do know that just as God has called me to serve him to the best of my ability throughout my life on earth, he is now calling me home.
