Addiction, Anxiety/Worry, Cancer, Faith/Spirituality

A Divine Shearing

We make countless appointments without giving a second thought about how it will fit into the divine plan for the universe. We act as if we are making them because the time slot and day of the week is convenient for us. Thank goodness that even though we make random choices without considering God whatsoever, He still sticks to the plan. Luckily, we still get to be a part of it. I was reminded of this yesterday when I showed up for my appointment to get my very long, grown out (and gray-laced) hair colored.

I settled myself in my swively little chair and spun myself around (because yes, I am like a 3 yr. old). I hadn’t noticed that there was only one other client in the salon besides me. I froze my spinning self when I saw it: the back of her head was splotchy, a smattering of long brown tendrils, intermixed with sections of bare, smooth scalp. The clippers were already sliding up one side and down the other. I didn’t speak. Or I couldn’t speak, maybe. I remembered vividly the day I lost my blond (dread) locks. I think a weed eater might have been more efficient than the clippers at that juncture. As you may know, I had a TON of hair, long and thick. It never had a chance to get thin and sparse and blotchy because a cocktail of Leukemia Chemo and being intubated and heavily drugged up in ICU did the job for me in only one week. We tried to pour an entire bottle of conditioner on it to detangle and brush it out, but it was too little too late. But enough about my sad hair loss story (thank you for obliging my trip down memory/leukemia lane)…

I waited until the job was done before I spoke up. While I was waiting I had pulled up a lovely picture of me; cue-ball bald. When she turned her chair to face the mirror, to see herself for the first time as the stereotypical cancer patient, I asked her if she would mind if I showed her something. At her nod, I showed her my photo and said, “this was me three years ago.” Then we both burst into tears and hugged a lot longer than one usually hugs a complete stranger. We spent time talking about cancer and how it came and how mine had gone and we believed hers will too.

It was a sentimental and sacred experience. A “God-thing” as I like to call it. One that I think she needed and I know I needed. Because, and this is really my point of telling you this, I absolutely cling to what I have read in recovery literature, “that, in God’s hands, the dark past is the greatest possession you have-the key to life and happiness for others. With it you can avert death and misery for them.” I write about this a lot. In fact, it’s the very reason I started writing and keep writing. If we cannot use our excruciating experiences, crappy circumstances or our struggles and successes with battling the chronic plagues of the hearth (fear, anger, resentment, jealousy, etc.), it’s all for naught. Some choose to shrivel up and wallow in self-pity and despair and bitterness. I have seen it and been tempted to go there. But what I have found, is that the alternative for the shriveling and wallowing, though it may not be easy, is to shed some light in the dark tunnel of someone else’s battle with the same.

That’s how God redeems the trauma. The illness. The divorce. The death. The addiction. The rebellion.

Some of you have come out of the dark into the light. So shine the light of hope on others who can’t yet see it. And you both will be blessed.

Some of you, maybe the majority of you, live your days like an Alaskan in December, with about 6 hours of daylight and the rest if the time in sheer blackness. You have glimmers of hope here and there, but are keenly aware that even though the sun peeks out on occasion, the darkness is daunting and certain. And yet, even when the bright side of life is fleeting for now, you at least get intermittent relief from the clouds cover. Don’t believe the lie that you have to wait until “summer” to share your strength and hope you have occasionally experienced, even during your personal cold, harsh “winter”.

God has comforted me in my turmoil. In my cancer days for sure, but also in the before and after. As you may have noted, life is tough, always. God comforts me in my affliction so that I in turn can comfort someone else. He helps me learn from my circumstances so that I can say, “you’re not the only one and there is hope” to those who are suffering.

“When you are in the dark, listen, and God will give you a very precious message for someone else when you get into the light.” -Oswald Chambers