Anamchara

Scars

My wife has been battling brain cancer for almost 9 years. In the last 9 months alone, she had her second surgery, followed by a two-month combination of radiation and chemotherapy, and, following a month off, 6 more months of chemotherapy. Her doctor recently told her to be thinking about continuing the chemotherapy for longer, maybe a year. All of this to keep the cancer from spreading into the speech area of her brain, and to hopefully buy some time until a new therapy is developed. If a cure was found tomorrow, though, much damage has already been done.

I'm in this battle too, but not from a physical perspective. We both experience emotions like fear and anxiety, but I'm sure they are different for each of us.

Over the past 9 years, she has accumulated a number of scars, physically and emotionally. Scars on her head from two brain surgeries. A scar looking area on the top of her head from the radiation, where her hair refuses to grow back. Scars on her veins, from blood tests and chemotherapy. Scars on her brain, causing memory loss and chemical imbalances.

Maybe the worst scars are from friends and family who, because she looks pretty good on the surface, don't understand how sick she is. Some hope for a miracle; some try to fix her; and some fade away because they can't handle their own feelings of helplessness. Some people have their own problems, and some are just plain callus.

The problem with scars is they are often times not visible to anyone but the one who bears them. People may know you have them, but after awhile they forget you still have them. Loneliness and isolation are companions of those with scars.

And, we wonder, has God forgotten our scars, or is He indifferent to them?

I went to our early church service this morning by myself, as my wife was too tired. I know I need to be around people, and I like the early service because there are few people there, and it is quiet - there is no music at the early service. As I sat in that quiet church, with the sun shining through the stained glass, I began to look at those few people who had made their way to church in the early morning.

I saw a woman about my age, who I know has been battling an illness for years. She looked tired, as did her faithful husband. Another woman lost her husband years ago. Another woman lost her husband to cancer several months ago. I saw another woman who has been faithfully attending church since I was a boy. I remember her having a beautiful little daughter, but I never saw her husband with her.

Directly in front of me sat a couple with their daughter. The daughter had been in car wreck with her sister about 12 years ago, on their way to school. The sister was killed. This one lived, but she has significant brain damage. Her parents have patiently taken care of her all of these years.

I was humbled looking at all of these people. I wondered how they kept going. I wondered what kept drawing them to church. I wondered the same things about them that I wonder about me and my wife.

The Gospel reading was from the 24th chapter of Luke, where the risen Jesus is standing in the midst of his disciples. "Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have." And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet.

There it is. Those of us with scars are coming to the One with scars. We can identify with that One. We feel comforted by Him, and we feel understood.

"Then he opened their eyes to understand the scriptures....."

posted by Anamchara @ 2:18 PM