Can I just say that being a grown-up sucks? I mean, when you’re a teenager and you are
counting down the days to “freedom”, you really have no idea what you’re
talking about! In some ways, I wonder if
my pursuit of motherhood isn’t at least in part motivated by a desire to live
vicariously through my child’s innocent eyes, reliving my own childhood.
My good friend told me today what I’ve suspected for a while
– that she is struggling with a pretty difficult, chronic health condition, one
whose diagnosis hasn’t been completely pin-pointed, and as such, whose
treatment or prognosis is unclear. To
make matters worse, because of where this condition is located, she has not
been able to take anything for the chronic pain she lives with, since it would
further exacerbate the problem with her liver.
After telling me all of this, how she’s been in pain all
this time, how she’s been trying to live with the added burden of dealing with
things that are made more difficult by her symptoms, how she feels isolated because she doesn't want to burden others by discussing negative things like this, she asks how I’ve been
doing.
And really, what can I tell her? On one hand, I don’t want to just say “oh,
nothing” and force her to continue reliving her struggles if she wants a break
from them. On the other hand, I don’t
want to go into a diatribe about my issues, which by now seem so miniscule by
comparison.
When we hang up, I think about how my Rachel,
my deceased best friend, would know just what to tell her, just how to be a good
friend to her. Rachel was everyone’s
best friend, whether they realized it or not.
And I will never come close to her level of friendship, which really was
a level of holiness that to me sounded like a lot of work and a thankless
job. And I’m overcome with self-centered
grief.
The other day, it was pointed out to me that I am about to
cross into a new realm of reality, at least when it comes to OB/GYN forms:
advanced maternal age. Me?! Who isn’t yet 100% convinced that she’s
completely all grown up? Me, who still
suffers from the common side-effects of childhood such as self-consciousness and
a desire to fit in? Me – the person
without a career, or important social status, or children to legitimate her as
an adult woman? Yes, apparently I’m
going from “girl” to “old” in a matter of one year. And as I pondered this the
other day, I got to thinking about how my mother was my age when she had her
third child.
She already had all three of her children by the time she
was my age; I don’t have a single one. But how can I envy my mom, who has been
tasked with the burden of caring for my father post-brain injury from his
midlife crisis motorcycle accident?
Sigh. Another
reminder of the injustice of life.
I am reminded of a Buddhist parable. A woman named Kisagotami who had just lost
her toddler son came to the Buddha to ask him to bring her child back to
life. She was desperate and distraught. In all his wisdom, the Buddha told her to get
some mustard seeds from a home where there had been no death. This gave Kisagotami great joy, for she felt
hope at the prospect of restoring her son’s life. She went from door to door, house to house,
looking for a home where no one had experienced the death of a loved one. After a day of this seemingly fruitless
pursuit, Kisagotami came to understand the Buddha’s intention: death is a part of life.
I tell this story because it has broader applications. It’s not just death that is inevitable in
life. So is disease, and disappointment,
and old age, and grief. Christians call
this carrying our cross. We each have a
cross to carry, and while it may be different from the cross of our sister or
brother or neighbor, it is not worse or better than theirs. It is exactly what we need to suffer through
in order to bring glory to God. A life
without suffering would be heaven, and we are not there yet.
This song, “Where I belong” by Building 429, captures this
sentiment nicely
When you are struggling, when you are desperate, when you
hurt, when you feel betrayed, isolated, used, worn-out, ashamed, listen to this
song. Really listen to it, and then
listen to it again. Listen until you can
sing along, and then sing along until you believe it; this (mess/drama/struggle/situation) is not where you ultimately belong.
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