Thank You Notes Part I

In no particular order, I now present the first in what I imagine will be a very long series of thank you notes.

Dear Bex,

I did okay for the first few months but about the six month mark it became really apparent that I was lost. My life had marched along without me when I got knocked down and I couldn't crawl fast enough to get back in step. Supposedly there was a Sam-sized hole I was supposed to fit back into but I had changed sizes and there wasn't so much a hole as there was a photograph on the wall that didn't look like me anymore. I was disoriented and confused and more than a little traumatized that SO much had changed in just two and half months. And I was thinking too much and doing too little and alone too often. And I started beating myself up for all of my mistakes and weaknesses and did nots and should haves and why didn't I and if only I hads. And you came and you looked at me and you saw me. Not my hunched and balded form and my clingy, weepy heart. Not my cancer or all the negative character traits that at that point were on full display. You saw the best parts of me and you spoke to the best parts of me and little by little the best parts of me woke up and came back and I began to build a new life. So, to you, dear friend, I say thank you for your morning visits. You broke up the terrible monotony of my day and my thoughts and most especially-

Thank you for finding me when I was lost,

Sam

Dear Jane-Bug,

Such a life saver! I've never had a better boss. You were so clear about how I should do my post-surgery morning chores of opening the blinds. You made sure I got every blind no matter how long it took me and were always so happy with my work. You never let me forget to open them and you were just like the sunshine that came through the windows. Always happy to bring me kleenex or remind me to keep my lungs healthy by breathing on the lung-puffer thing and laughing out loud. Without you I am sure I would have developed pneumonia. We shared our love of chap-stick and children's books. Thank you for brightening many an hour with your curly hair, animal sounds and pretend cooking. I love you! 

BFFs,

Sam 

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Meditation XVII and Me

Oriana-Perth Mint

No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by and made fit

for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. 

Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it,

except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven by it.

~ John Donne

This quote, taken from John Donne's, "Meditation XVII", is one of those pieces that became a part of me the first time I read it. This idea that each trial, challenge, and tribulation in my life was a wedge of gold sank into me; my heart and mind shifting to welcome it like an old friend newly discovered. Gold is so heavy, and hard, and cold, and beautiful. As I see my reflection in gold I can see my life in my trials. The vision is distorted and lacking much of color and detail but it reveals a great deal, nonetheless. And the revelation speaks of choice and consequence, strength and weakness, past and potential, lack and abundance, angels and demons, and a Savior and friends. And I know my wedge of gold promises a great deal, if only I can endure the refining. 

Three years ago, at 26, I was diagnosed with cancer. It seemed to barge into my life and make itself so at home I hardly felt there was room left over for me. I received many blessings and was told that in the coming months and years I would, 'wade in the deep,' and 'be burned as with fire.' And I did. And I was. And through a lot of painful, sleepless nights I tried to mint my wedge of gold into something I could use by counting my blessings, and plumbing the depths of my faith, and testifying in the wee morning hours to dark and empty rooms about what I knew and feared and believed and wanted and loved. Years later I have a small pile of coins that does not seem to have scratched the surface of the gold I was given. But I hope I never stop working at it for I know some of my difficulties have not been fully experienced and some of my heart-ache has been blessedly postponed. For now, after three years, I would like to bring some of my midnight gratitude and solitary testimony meetings into the sunlight.

I would like to say thank you to the people who shared the coins cast in their own crucibles. I needed your wisdom and your strength and your compassion and certainly your forgiveness. I am grateful you did not leave your afflictions to "lie...as gold in a mine" but out of hot fires forged them into strengths and gifts of infinite value which were then offered freely to me. You helped to lift me out of the depths and closer to heaven. You seemed a reflection of Christ and His love. And when I felt the farthest away from heaven is when I became the most certain that He and His merciful, enabling atonement is real and within reach. He is the reason I (or any of us) have any coins to speak of. His refining fire revealed no dross and He suffered, not to draw Himself, but each of us, closer to heaven. I hope each of my fires will reveal less of the impure and unworthy and qualify me to be "made fit for God." Something more like my friends, and my family, and my Savior.

*******