A Passport to Intimacy

     As I thoughtfully make my way through reading The Council of Dads, I am constantly coming across things to which I say, "Wow, that's absolutely true." or "That's exactly how I felt."  In the letter from chapter 7, Bruce Feiler writes:

Cancer, I have found, is a passport to intimacy.  It's and invitation-maybe even a mandate-to enter the most vital, frightening, and sensitive human arenas.  It's a responsibility to address those issues we rarely want to discuss, but we feel enriched when we do.  In that spirtit, I hope you find occasion to ask a difficult question of someone you love, renew a long-forgotten promise you made to yourself, or spread a little magic of your own to help keep the monsters at bay.

     This brought memories of my sweet friend G, who went with me to my first chemo treatment, then took me to dinner afterward and informed me, "Enjoy it now, because it will not taste as good coming back up!"  She was correct.  Then, G stood at my bathroom door as the first wave of nausea rolled in.  "You feel like you're puking up your toes, don't you?  I'm bringing you meds!"  You see, G was speaking from experience.  She was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer six months before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Yes, G went with me to the wig shop to help me pick out just the right wig and ended up getting another for herself. I think we tried on every wig they had and had a blast doing it!  When we pulled into the parking lot, before going in the wig shop, G said, "Can I ask you a question?"  I knodded.  She said, "Do you sit around and cry because of your diagnosis?"  "No," I responded, "do you?" "No," she said, and then paused.  She looked at me and scrunched up her eyes and asked, "Do you think we're taking this as seriously as we should?"  "The way I see it," I said, "if it doesn't affect our standing in eternity, it's not that big of a deal."  "Yeah," she said, "that's what I thought.  Glad someone's on the same page."  Even though we both knew where we would spend eternity and our relationship with Christ sustained us through our cancers, G stepped into eternity and I let God know what I thought about that. (So glad He knows I'm human and offers me grace, mercy and forgiveness when I act so human.) The thing I think I learned the best from dear G was, no matter what you go through, when you know whose you are (Christ's and Christ's alone) you live life to it's fullest...after all, He promises us abundant life. I love how The Message puts it: .."I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." -John 10:10