Thursday, February 22, 2018

Books for Living, Part Two: Thursday's Reflection

If you read my most recent post "Books for Living, Part One," you know lately I have been attracted to memoirs about living and dying with cancer. Reading them, I have realized the audience is not narrowly limited to those who have cancer or whose loved ones have cancer, but to all of us who one day will die. 

That would be me. 

That would be you. 

The lessons these books offer is how to live now. How to live more generous, intentional, open-hearted lives. 

I promised in Part I I would share some examples from what I've been reading and in some cases my responses and reflections. Here goes:

From Everything Happens For A Reason and Other Lies I've Loved by Kate Bowler. What a different book this would be if the title were just "Everything Happens for a Reason." When someone who is trying to be kind repeats this pat phrase to the author's husband, he responds, "I'd love to hear it." Just exactly what is the reason. A friend of the author's who is in the midst of her own tough reality says, "Why is everyone trying to teach me a lesson?" 

Have you ever found yourself saying the "everything happens for a reason" line? I probably have or at the least tried to figure out "why" something has happened or is present in my life or the world around me. 

This simple statement, it seems to me, takes me off the hook, for it isn't that different from "that's the way it is." If that's the way it is, period, then I have no responsibility to discover my own resiliency and strengths and yes, weaknesses, too. Why bother then seeking to deepen my relationship with God or to unearth the possible wisdom and growth in the pain and loss? 

I don't think cancer or any other unwanted plight is given to us, finger wagging, "Now, maybe you will learn x, y, or z." Instead, I think because we are challenged in all kinds of ways, certainly not just physically, we can use our predicaments to live more deeply, more wisely, more humanely, more authentically. Nobody says that is easy, however, as these memoirs all depict. 

Now mind you, I definitely don't have this all figured out and perhaps that is why I turn to the real life struggles of others. I need their real life expertise. 

Here's what Bowler says, 

                The only thing worse than saying this is 
                pretending that you know the reason. I've
                had hundreds of people tell me the reason for
                my cancer. Because of my sin. Because of my
                unfaithfulness. Because God is fair. Because 
                God is unfair. Because of my aversion to Brussels
                sprouts. I mean, no one is short of reasons...When
                someone is drowning, the only thing worse than
                failing to throw them a life preserver is handing 
                them a reason.  p. 170

What should you say, according to Bowler?
                *  I'ld love to bring you a meal this week. Can I
                email you about it. 
                *  You are a beautiful person.
                *  I'm so grateful to hear about how you're doing and
                just know that I'm on your team.
                *  Can I give you a hug?
                *  Oh, my friend, that sounds so hard.

And perhaps the best thing to do is to "Show up and shut up." The gift of listening. 

I guess there needs to be a "Books for Living, Part III," and I suspect I will do that at some point, but this seems like enough for now. 

An Invitation
What have you learned about yourself by walking with someone else's pain? I would love to know. 




3 comments:

  1. Very timely subject, Nancy as I recently posted a wonderful article about this very subject on my FB page:

    http://www.timjlawrence.com/blog/2015/10/19/everything-doesnt-happen-for-a-reason

    I like the quotes you posted from Kate Bowler. My 21-year old son passed away unexpectedly in 2009. I can only speak for myself, but there is nothing worse than platitudes in a case like this. No, it did not happen for a reason. I am not a better person; I have not had a spiritual epiphany; I have not learned anything. Am I changed? Of course I am. One cannot lose a child and not have their life do a 180. Neither me nor my husband nor my youngest son will ever be the same.

    After I posted the Tim Lawrence article on my FB page, a friend of mine who is battling breast cancer right now, wrote me a private message. She loved the article and has had the same experience where people have said very inappropriate things to her such as, "Think of all the money you're saving on shampoo!" NOT funny when you're going through cancer treatments and have lost all your hair.

    Anyway, I love some of the suggestions that Kate Bowler listed above. They are all helpful and non-judgmental. Thank you for posting.

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  2. Thank you, Melanie. I am so very sorry for your loss. Such an inadequate word --"loss." I try to imagine what losing a child must feel like, but it is unknowable without personally living in the depth of that loss. I honor you as you find your life now, and I look forward to reading the link you posted. Thanks for sharing.

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  3. You truly lived through the whole unwanted time and I have always been impressed with how you lived within, through and beyond. Much love.

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