How Can I Help?

Another friend stricken with cancer. I've honestly lost count. The first response for so many of us is, "What can I do to help?"

Which might just be the exact wrong thing to say. When you're sick, do you really want to be making TO DO lists?

Here's a list of other suggestions of things that might be better to say (and do). What do you think? What do you do to help friends with serious illnesses?

1. Instead of asking what you can do, look for what is needed. Garbage overflowing in the bathroom? Take it out. Dust rhinos frolicking in the corners? Clean them up.

2. Fix a meal. I try to take something that is freezable so even if they don't need food tonight, there's something in the freezer for when they're having a bad night.

3. Offer to take the kids for a while.

4. Water the plants, mow the lawn, bring a live plant. Life breeds hope.

5. Be sensitive about family time. Stay for a short visit rather than lingering.

6. Don't focus only on the illness. Feel free to talk about good news.

7. Think of something you can offer that no one else can. When I was on bedrest during my first pregnancy, a friend who was a massage therapist came once a week to give me a massage. What a blessing!

8. Be sure to include the person in the bed in the conversation. It always feels so awkward when a crowd is gathered around the hospital bed, laughing and talking, and ignoring the person who should be the center of attention.

9. Saying you're praying for someone is fine. Actually doing it is much better.

10. You can never go wrong with a heartfelt, hand-written note or card.

Drat.

I hate cancer. HATE it. It strikes so indescriminately: old and young, rich and poor, healthy and feeble, evil and righteous. When people question how God can allow suffering, they're talking about cancer, among other things.

I know God can redeem any situation. I know he can build character in bad circumstances, reach the unreached through the suffering of the rescued, put a silver lining in any cloud.

But why are there always clouds?

I know he loves us, cares for us, died for us. In my head, in my heart, I know and believe.

But I still question. Why?

Job had questions. God had answers, but not the ones Job wanted. Whenever someone gets diagnosed, I go to Job. I don't find comfort in the questions, but in the answers which basically say, "Who are you to ask these things? Did you make the world? The sky? The sea? Then put your hand over your mouth and stop talking. Better to not say anything and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

I know, it's not comforting in a traditional sense, but to hear God tell us we can't possibly understand what we're asking much less what his reasons are makes me feel better for some reason.

I covet your prayers for Larry and for Joanne this week. Larry's at the end of his fight. Joanne's at the beginning of her 3rd round. Both are right with God and a whole lot stronger than I am. I want to take the pain away, but they both face it bravely.

Another Fight Lost

My husband's uncle died last night at the way too young age of 54 after a short, intense battle with cancer. He was a voice of sanity in a loud, crazy family, a steady man who loved his girls and loved his football. Say a prayer for his family tonight, would you?

Cancer Stinks

Cancer claimed the life of my husband's aunt this month. It's ravaging the body of his uncle right now. And it has returned to the body of a dear family friend.

A sign of the fall?

A sign of the times?

A reminder of the fragility of life?

Maybe. I don't know. But I know cancer stinks. An unseen enemy fighting the body from within.

It seems the invisible foe is the hardest to fight. It's true with cancer, but it's true with other things too - dissention, discontent, discord - When the body is attacked and weakened by its own members, it cannot thrive.

The first big lawsuit over rights for Christian music included the song "They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love." Ironic, huh? Like cancer in the body of Christ, bent on destroying itself from within. Only in this case, we already know the cure.

Benign

"Your last blog entry was benign."

I lay in bed at one o'clock this morning thinking about the word. It wasn't meant as an insult, but not as a compliment either. It was just a statement to say that my last few entries have been flatter than usual. That's by design. I've been in the middle of several forums of miscommunication lately and I've been too tired to fight in the blogging arena.

Do you think the Apostle Paul ever shrunk back from saying what he thought? He was a pretty feisty communicator, yet he still begged for prayers for boldness. Even Jesus, who never backed down from a fight, who never missed an opportunity to teach, sought alone time throughout his years of ministry.

I dance a little dance on the high wire of Blog Land. I write what I think, then go back and reflect. I respond to comments or I bite my tongue. I say something heavy, then counter with something light.

Benign.

Gentle. Self-limiting. Not dangerous.

Not exactly the word a writer likes to hear.

But I have two friends this month who would have loved to hear the word come from a doctor's mouth. Instead they heard the other word.

Malignant.

Two women I've known for years and years. Two friends who face the same fight over the coming months-- the race against breast cancer. Surgery, chemo-therapy, radiation, hair loss. And despite their fear or their weariness, they won't back down. Because these women have courage. They have courage and they have husbands and family who will stand beside them every step of the way.

All I can say right now is, let's pray to the God who hears our prayers. Let's pray for Pam and Jane.