Tough Stuff

Have you ever learned something and immediately wished that you could turn back the clock just two minutes? Back to when you didn't know? Back to when life was uncomplicated and mostly good? It is true that ignorance is bliss. And yet, too often, the secret is out before we realize that our lives are going to be irreversibly changed forever. My dear friend learned just such a truth this week. She was going along with her merry little life; chasing kids, selling a house, building a new house, spreading joy and sunshine like she always does. I think she was probably like me; fretting over little things like what gifts to give for Christmas and how to find time to clean her house before the holidays and what she was going to make for dinner. Suddenly the "secret" surfaced and now she is worrying instead about her darling little girl and chest ports and IVs and spinal taps and chemotherapy and hospital recliners that never let you sleep. Instead of baking for Thanksgiving, she is struggling to put on a happy face for her little daughter as she brushes her long gorgeous hair and tries to find a way to tell her that all this beautiful hair will soon be found in big clumps on her pillow each morning until there is no more. Now she is curled up and crying in a hospital room by herself in the dark, wee hours of the morning only when she is sure her daughter will not see her fear. She is far from friends and family, worrying about her other children farmed out among relatives, worrying about what the next months and years will hold. And I wish that there was some way to take it all back, because, trust me, the road back to before seems so very much shorter than the long, long road through. And my heart breaks for her.

Then I think about the "secret" that I just discovered and wish that I, too, could go back. Back to yesterday when life was great as I knew it. And yet, the secret was still there. Not a menace that could hurt me physically, but an ugly monster just the same. I was blissfully oblivious but that doesn't mean that the damage wasn't done. It just means that the stench was not yet apparent, like the dead mouse under my freezer in the basement. Just because I couldn't smell it, doesn't mean it wasn't there, preparing to knock me down with its odor the next time I opened the door. And I have to wonder which I hate more, secrets or surprises. Then I realize that there is no reverse button on this roller coaster called life and that the only way past is right through the murky middle. So, my friend, I will gather my courage and brace myself for the journey, praying for angels for me and for you. Angels to carry us through.