Physical Eyes vs Spiritual Eyes

Good afternoon.  I am Marme, the grandmother, and Blythe has asked me to write an update for the blog, so I will be writing from the prism of a grandmother’s heart and a grandmother’s perspective – sharing what a grandmother’s physical and spiritual eyes see. 

First, the physical. Cancer and chemotherapy are brutal. There’s no way around it.  It feels as if we are on a terrible roller coaster, a wild run, scary beyond words, with many twists and turns. And at this point there is no exit. We just have to ride out the storm till we pull into the station at the end of the run. 

Stro has just finished his third round of chemo, for which we are eternally grateful. Only one more to go. What a brave young man. He goes home today and will descend into the nadir, the most dangerous time of the cycle, when chemo complications and set-backs arise.  It’s a hard time for his parents, who seek to monitor and guard him constantly, rushing to the ER with the slightest sign of infection or complication. From a grandmother’s perspective, it’s beyond painful.

Following the 10 days or so of this, he then moves into three or four really good days, the apex, and our hearts soar with hope. He still sleeps a lot and has trouble breathing but he is up more, receives visitors, and his appetite returns. He seems more himself, as witnessed by the attached photograph.

His most recent set back involves some lung damage from compression of the tumor on the lung. He had a sleep apnea test, low oxygen levels, and is now on a Cpap machine which he doesn’t like very much. As I said, it’s a roller coaster ride that causes sleepless nights and nightmares for days. Thank goodness there are five of us to divide the responsibilities and the monitoring.

Personally, I don’t see how families navigate this emotional maze without large family and community support, for it can surely be an overwhelming maelstrom. 

While all this hospitalization is going on, life still happens. There are jobs to be worked, bills to be paid, and children to be tended to. I don’t see how Blythe, Darin, Taira, and Hodge are doing it.

Darin and Taira are working full time, while spending evenings at the hospital, and running back and forth tending to medical issues. Blythe spends every day, all day, at the hospital tending to Stro’s needs while dealing with family leave bureaucracy issues that seem insurmountable. And Hodge is a typical 16-year-old, growing up faster than most of his peers.

This is what my physical eyes see. My grandmother eyes can hardly bear to see all this suffering. To watch my son suffer, watching his son suffer tears a hole into the very center of me. To watch them all suffer – I sometimes think it is too great a burden for a heart to bear.  

But what I see with my spiritual eyes is a different story. 

I see a young man with a strength, wisdom and courage beyond his years, who is surrounded by friends and dreams and plans for what he will do when this is all over.  His strength and attitude defy description.

I see parents who are standing strong, united, with a strength, optimism, and hope that also defies description. 

I see a Mama bear who fights with every fiber of her being for her baby cub.

I see a Papa bear who enters the darkness to bring protection and stability to a family in crisis. 

I see a Step Mama bear who tends the den and opens her heart as she turns her home into a place of healing.

I see a Brother bear who wrestles and plays, loves on and tends his wounded brother.

And a special word needs to be said about this amazing brother. The name Hodge means rod or strong spear, marked by qualities of loyalty, dependability, and leadership. Wow- my spiritual eyes see all this plus a kid whose river runs deep, who doesn’t talk much about his feelings, but who is home tending his brother with Canes chicken and a game of Spades rather than going on spring break like most of his friends. I see the pain and love in this child’s eyes, and I wonder what is going on in his mind as he encourages his brother while dealing out the cards, competing to win. A kid who turns 17 tomorrow – March 16 - older and wiser but missing some of his growing up years and experiences.

And I see Grandparent bears who are on their knees 24/7, interceding before the throne of grace, thanking God for the community of prayer groups that are praying, people and churches we do not even know – from Lake City, Colorado, to the Franciscan monks in Illinois, from Arkansas and Oklahoma to Carmelite nuns in Granbury, from Connecticut and NYC to Dallas, San Antonio, Amarillo and more. 

My spiritual eyes also see a community that has gone above and beyond in their love, support and encouragement. The outreach is beyond description, and the food, besides being delicious, more than helpful. The thousand other ways you pour out love upon each and every one of us is astounding, and we are humbled beyond words. There is no way we could do this without this amazing support.

And last but not least, I see a God who shines light in the darkness, in the hard moments, at the exact time and moment it is needed. It might come in the form of a sweet note or scripture text that speaks to the heart. Maybe a quick link to an uplifting or encouraging song; a sweet card or note or flowers left on the doorstep. Maybe it comes in the form of 60 young frat brothers surprising a pledge with a special backyard initiation. Or maybe in a divine encounter with an amazing woman at Lawrence’s who has experienced the same complications, the same chemo, two years ago, and is living a joyous and faith filled life today. Or maybe, just maybe, God sends an unexpected love gift at the altar rail during communion, from a faithful priest through a special blessing just for you. 

You never know what blessing is going to occur in the midst of such an ordeal. But I’m believing that as we near the end of these days, as we begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel, that all of these tears and prayers will not be for naught. 

It is interesting that in the church calendar, today is Laetar Sunday which means rejoice - the Sunday of joy. It occurs halfway through the Lenten season and serves as a reminder that, in the midst of the 40 days in the wilderness, that the joy of Easter is drawing near. 

I find it no coincidence, but a divine grace, that today our family is halfway into our 40 days in the wilderness. What a sweet consolation in the natural to remind us that although midway in the journey there is hope in the morrow. That what this grandmother’s physical eyes see is not what God sees. That in the midst of this darkness, God’s light will shine. Things that we cannot even dream or imagine will be displayed. God will indeed prevail. I am believing it will happen - that following these many nights of weeping, joy will, indeed, cometh in the morning. 

I am counting on it!