“You two sure are lucky.” he said with conviction.
I laughed out loud. It was an automatic reaction.
Suzie and I were sitting in Same Day, the outpatient area of Summit Hospital, waiting for another test. So far the tally was three breast cancers and a brain tumor. They were doing a full body scan to find out if cancer had spread. They found three more types of cancer.
We didn’t feel lucky.
In fact, I had been feeling a little sorry for myself. After all that had happened, I guess I felt entitled.
Richard Gay knew all this. As education director for children at our church, Suzie had informed him early that she wouldn’t be able to teach four year olds anymore. He’d visited us in the hospital and sat in the waiting room with me through several agonizing surgeries. So, his comment had shocked me. How could anyone think we were lucky?
“How’s that?” was all the response I could manage.
“I just left someone that would trade places with you in a second. They probably won’t make it through the night. The family has been called in. They’re just waiting. You could be in a lot worse situation.”
The thought had never crossed my mind. This place was full of dying people though you’d never know it. But pastors always do.
We still didn’t feel lucky. You can’t really feel good about someone else’s loss. But we felt something else. Not relief but perspective.
There were people in worse shape than us. Much worse. And to feel sorry for ourselves seemed somehow an insult to them. I could mentally see their accusing faces. How could we take what we had for granted?
It was a head spinning moment.
We had been focusing so much on what we’d lost, we couldn’t see what we had. Much less be thankful for it.
For us it got a lot worse before it got better. But as my worst nightmares were exceeded, I never forgot that lesson. I knew how easy it would be to miss the blessings we’d had just to get this far. Just to breathe.
The first Thanksgiving wasn’t about bountiful blessings. It was gratitude for survival. For the ability to face another day. For the possibility of tomorrow, no matter how bad things looked at the moment.
Later on, I was helping Suzie wash the dishes – a rare occurrence, trust me. I was overcome for a moment with the pure domestic bliss of this basic task. I never realized the joy to be found just by standing beside her.
Because now I knew that it didn’t have to happen. I felt like Scrooge after he woke from his horrible dreams. Everything was different. I saw joy everywhere.
Now, every Thanksgiving, my fervent prayer is that I never forget.
Photo by the Paessels via Flickr
