He was asleep. Fast asleep on that cushion. The boat was filling up with water and apparently if one is to believe Peter's reaction (and he was a fisherman-so I am assuming he had been in a storm or two), it was sinking. The wind was blowing (and I am imaging quite cold). I am thinking Hurricane Hazel. My image is of that scene in Perfect Storm when George Clooney drives the boat directly into the wave. Of course, he drowns, but he showed no fear.
The Daily Office Gospel reading this morning tells that story again today and it made me think. Which I guess would be the point, andI think the point was this, perspective. And it is a funny thing about re-reading those stories over and over and over. I suspect that is why the desert fathers and mothers recommended we read it again and again. I suspect that is why Jesus walked into that desert for 40 days with only the WORD and a PRAYER to defend him and sustain him. I suspect that is why St. Francis, St. Benedict, St. Ignatius, St. Augustine, Joan of Arc, Julian of Norwich, St. Teresa of Avila, Hus, Luther, Calvin, Wesley, Whitfield, every person who was enslaved in America, Jimmy Carter, Dr. King, Mother Teresa, your mother and your grandmother said over and over: Read it. There will come a day when the words written in red will speak truth to you, the dried ink on that page, the well worn pages will change you into who your ARE MEANT TO BE. Read it, everyday if possible. But at least read it. We think we know the stories by heart and we do BUT
the WRITTEN WORD has not always changed us into who we are meant to be. Only re-reading, re-experiencing, only time, only God can do that. And we do have to get in the boat to ride out the storm. We do have to be willing to risk drowning to discover we aren't really going to drown at all.
He was asleep. He had a smile on his face. He looked calm. It was Christmas Day.
I was thinking about my beef tenderloin and would my husband remember to get it out a precisely 4 pm to let it rest and come to room temperature and would he precisely at 430 pm remember to put it in a 500 degree oven with my very special meat thermometer. My girlfriend with the great shoes, she can also cook. I mean really cook. She told me about the wonderful thermometer. I had my family coming to dinner tonight and they were expecting PERFECT BEEF TENDERLOIN and PERFECT GRITS and JOY TO THE WORLD. A lot of pressure for a simple, very neurotic, mess of woman, who at times charades as a nurse. I was just passing time at work that morning. I had literally taken the shirt of my sister in law (who in case you are wondering is a SAINT), off her back the night before. It was all glittery. I felt like I was in an episode of Glee. It said of all things: PEACE.
So, here I am wearing peace about to be told what peace really is...
I walk in his room. Touch him gently. It was 545 am. I wanted to be the first to wish him Merry Christmas. He woke up. He smiled. I told him I was so very sad that he was having to spend the holidays on the cancer unit with a newly diagnosed leukemia and having to take gallons of chemotherapy. You see chemotherapy for leukemia is a whole another level. Chemotherapy for other cancer is bad, very bad. But this, this is very, very, very bad or so I thought. He says:
"Honey, don't be sad. I have been in far worse places and far worse situations than this on Christmas Day or any other day for that matter." I said, "WORSE than chemotherapy for leukemia?" He said, "YEP." So I had to ask, "WHERE?" He said, "Well, for about 4 years I played practical war games in Southeast Vietnam in a jungle. And that, that is a disaster. Leukemia on Christmas is an inconvenience. I learned to tell the difference between disaster and an inconvenience." He went on to say, "I stood by the grave of my 22 year old son. Really couldn't understand how I could survive the Viet Cong and the fall of Da Nang and he is killed in the line of duty by a suicide bomber." He went on to say, "Those are disasters. I think I can take A LITTLE CHEMO." He went on to say, "At some point in life, you have to realize what a disaster really is and prepare accordingly. You have to stop saying, why me and saying why not? You have to realize that you really can get through anything and even if it kills you it is not the worst thing."
So by now, beef tenderloin really didn't matter. I really didn't care if it burned. Grits didn't matter. I suddenly did not feel as burdened by holiday preparations as I thought I was. And my tears were falling all over him. So in a very choked voice I had to ask, "How did you keep from going crazy?" He said,
"I read. I read and I read and I read. And I came to realize the WORDS were true and the worst thing is not being grateful."
He knew the secret. He knew. He knew how to survive the storm. He knew no matter what he wasn't going to drown.
I thanked him. I gave him a hug. He hugged back. I told him...well I don't know what I said. I walked out of his room and sat down. Hard. Took pause. HARD. Reminded myself what really mattered was ALL OF THIS IS, ALL OF IT, THE GOOD, THE BAD is a GIFT. I would do well to say THANKS and to remember. Drowning isn't the worst thing. Death isn't the worst thing. Cancer isn't the worst thing. NOT SAYING THANKS, that is the worst thing and that simple act of trust, to say thank you in the storm...that...that one word is really all the disaster preparedness you need. Really. It is how you sleep through the storm. It is how you throw water out of the boat. It is how you face enemies. It is how you say goodbye to loved ones. It is how you swim when you don't know how. It is how you LIVE in spite of death lurking around the corner. Because you know...you know...it is all worth it. Every single minute of it.
Grateful for being reminded how to survive disasters...May all of you dear, dear friends who must walk through hurricanes taking a nap in the corner of the boat....
Kathleen
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