I’m not a superstitious guy whatsoever. I’ve never had a lucky pair of socks, I’ve never had a lucky number, I’ve never avoided a black cat. I see the world to practically to be much in to superstitions and I’m probably too laid back to spend much time thinking about them anyway!
But if you looked in my pocket these days, if you glanced around my bedroom, or rifled through my closet you might think otherwise…and maybe for good reason.
Every day I put two things in my pocket:
- A coin that my sister-in-law purchased for me at the Grotto from the patron saint of cancer patients, Saint Perigrine. The coin says that cancer “Cannot defeat the soul, cannot shatter hope, cannot depress faith, cannot destroy homes, cannot limit humanity, cannot kill friendships, cannot silence courage, cannot ruin the soul, cannot reduce the spirit, CAN be overcome…” I’m not Catholic nor do I pray to saints but I do value what it represents. It represents hope, it represents God’s power to heal, and it was a gift from someone I love. As I walk around with my hand in my pocket I usually flip that coin round and round between my fingers and am reminded that cancer CAN be overcome. I love what that coin represents. I need to be reminded of that.
- A shard of kyanite stone. To be perfectly honest I grew up believing that crystals were evil, that they somehow represented a satanic power or something. A word like “energy” would have never been used with regard to healing (nor did we speak of ‘holistic healing’ of any kind). Today I find myself fascinated by the mystery of how God has fashioned our bodies into being, how much depth there is beyond the tangibly physical and how much reality there is to our ‘energy’ as individuals and as a community. Anyway, a friend suggested that I carry around this stone, that it aids in bringing energy balance and healing. Honestly I don’t know if that’s true or not. It would make sense to me that like food provides healing for the body, or like how animals often provide comfort for the emotions, other parts of God’s creation would also bring with them additional properties of value. Regardless I carry around this stone in my pocket not because I think it’ll do a magic trick in my pocket but because it reminds me that God CAN bring about healing and he HAS created a world that was intended to function a certain way that nurtures health and vitality. Granted I am a constant reminder of how broken God’s intended reality has become…but as I rub that stone in my pocket I am reminded not of my brokenness but of God’s ability to bring about healing. I like that. I need that. I want that.
If you looked around my room or closet you’d stumble across a few things too:
- Draped across the chair in our room is a prayer shawl made for my wife by my aunts and my grandma. Hand knit by a group of loving women, anointed with symbolic frankincense oil, and given to us with a special prayer it represents not only the love of my family but the hope found in prayer.
- On Jess’ side of the bed lays an extra blanket (I get too hot for it to be on my side!) that was quilted by dozens of hands from my sister’s church up in Federal Way, Washington. Hand stitched and prayed over by that community, the quilt was finished only once they added dozens of cream colored loops which represents all those fighting central nervous system cancer along with me. This blanket reminds me of those who are praying with and for me from both far and near–strangers and loved ones.
- A box sits in the top of my closet and is filled cards, notes, drawings, and gifts from all of you. Most of them are from when I was in the hospital, though not all. I’ve kept virtually every note sent to me during the last eight months and I hold onto them as precious commodities. It’s clear what that box represents–you. Your love, your care, your concern.
- (I forgot this all-too-important bullet point in my first draft!) An old case for glasses sits next to my bed stuffed full of origami cranes. One night when my children were being babysat they worked with their babysitter in an effort to fold 1000 cranes for me. I think they maxed out a little closer to ten. But after making the cranes both India and Jones quietly whispered a prayer onto each crane before putting it in the case. During my radiation treatments I always carried a different colored crane with me to the clinic. I love those little cranes, I love what they represent, I love that my children covered them in prayer, I love that my children never told me what their prayers were, I love that my children are praying for me.
This week I’m going to get my ears pierced and start slowly gauging them. I don’t know if I’ll look particularly well with my ears done and I’ve always thought it might come off a little goofy on me. But I feel like it’s something I need to do. It’s symbolic. Like everything else above it represents something beyond its tangible reality. Everything in my life is about fighting cancer, about maintaining energy, about restoring normalcy (or something that we dare to consider normal) and everything in my life is temporary. We can’t plan far out ahead, we can’t commit to much in life because we don’t know what the next day, week, or month will bring. So by gauging my ears I am telling myself that I can do something that has no other purpose that to be fun in and of itself. I am telling myself that I can do something that requires longevity (gauging your ears is a long process). I am telling myself that my life is more than just fighting cancer. It’s symbolic.
Coins, stones, cards, blankets, jewelry…they’re all inherently worthless…but they represent a reality. A reality that I want to more fully live into. A reality that I want to continuously be aware of. A reality that doesn’t often seem very…well…real. That I can get better. That I will get better. That people do care. That prayer does make a difference. That there is more than the last eight months.
What a crock! Have any of you paid attention to the lyrics to “Away in a Manger”? Really? Jesus didn’t cry as a baby? Have you ever bucked hay before? Try sleeping in it! You ever see a baby that never cries? That song is just one example of how we have romanticized and thus taken away some of the power of Jesus’ birth story.
To be human is to be wounded–it is to have scars. Scars are just mile-markers in a story and to be human is to have an active part in the telling of yours and others’ stories.
