A couple of days ago my memory took me back to a place kept tucked away in the powerful images of childhood: I found myself sitting on the front porch of my childhood home, holding the hand of my Grandpa Triefenbach as he rocked gently back and forth upon the glider with big tears in his eyes. He had just received word that his best friend, Bill Deupke, had died and, as most stoic Germans do, he had gone to a place where he thought there was no-one else present to see his tears . . . and that is where I found him. The young boy I was I didn't know you shouldn't intrude on such moments, so I just went up the steps and asked, "What's wrong, Grandpa?" His lower lip trembled, the tears flowed even harder and not a word was spoken. Not receiving the answer I wanted, but sensing Grandpa's distress, I climbed up on the glider and sat beside him, holding his right hand in both of mine, allowing the world to go on by and for time to find its place of healing. Comfort would not come to Grandpa for quite a while and, being the kid I was, I stayed only until I sensed he wanted me to leave more than he wanted me to stay. Grandpa's grief and pain ran deep that day and, though I didn't understand it then, now I know that 'look' by name. Thinking back on those moments, I wish I could have been a better grandson, the one with just the right words, with just the right comfort, the one who could make it all better, yet those were not the gifts which were mine to give as a child. Mine was to sit there with him when all his world was darkness and loss. Mine was to be the accidental observer of death's long tentacles and, there, offer the innocent love only an adoring grandson can give.
Grandpa didn't live long after Bill's passing and today, looking back, I have a better sense of why: There is only so much a heart can endure.
The gift of Jesus, both in His life and teaching, extends to us the truth of our connectedness to all of God's creation, to all of our sisters and brothers around the world. We cannot ever journey alone in this life for we were never created to be alone. "No man is an island" is more than the title of a poem or a song, it is the steady reminder of our intimate weaving into the fabric of God's design. Each of us needs the other to fully live into the potential God has intended from the beginning. An afghan without all the yarn, without all the loops, is just pieces of fabric dumped in the corner, unusable by anyone. So, too with each of us.
Yet, among all those we know there are those who know us best, those with whom our lives are most tightly attached, those with whom we share the most joyous and the deepest of difficult times. These are the ones we call 'best friends', for they are among those we count on one hand. They are more than 'acquaintance', more than 'friend', and sometimes even more than 'sibling'. Sisters and brothers may share blood, but best friends share the DNA of life's journey, imbued with all the love, laughter and tears that may include. Even geography cannot separate us from the love of God . . . our best of all Friends, and as it is in heaven, may it be so on earth.
In the heat and intensity of Grandpa Triefenbach's tears I see my own life, my own relationships, my own friends. From his grief I am learning to count the blessings of those with whom I still share each day. From his broken heart I am taught, not to distance myself from others, nor to insulate my life from such pain, but to embrace the kind of caring which offers my heart to others in the same way, for therein is the greatest of gifts: To be loved as we love, to risk being mortally wounded for the grace to be received in the sweetness of caring so deeply.
Only those who have cried such tears, who have felt the pain of a broken heart, will ever be blessed to know exactly why God sent Jesus to roll away the stone of the tomb. The best of all Friends desires us to mourn no more. "What a Friend We Have In Jesus" . . . Thank you, God, for such friendship - and 'Thank you, Grandpa' for holding my hand and giving me such a gift that day, not so long ago. May it be so for us all.
Showing posts with label Best Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Best Friends. Show all posts
Friday, July 6, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
You Are Not a Doctor's Diagnosis
In honor of a dear friend of mine:
A doctor's diagnosis has never defined you. Never has, never will.
When you were born, the doctor may have said to your sainted Mother, 'My condolences . . .' or 'It's a boy, but not sure how he'll turn out . . .' or even, 'Try taking this one home to show the neighbors . .', but no doctor's comments, no doctor's observations, and certainly no doctor's diagnosis ...has ever defined you. You have been defined by the God of your faith from the first.
You have also been defined by the choices you have made and by the man you have chosen to become. You have been defined by the love of the wonderful woman with which you have chosen to spend your life. You have been defined by the heart of love you shared with your daughter all her days. You have been defined by the sharpness of your wit, the keenness of your wisdom, the audacity of your will for life, your passion for the earth and all that dwells therein, and by your strength of character which has served as your moral, ethical and religious compass all your days. But, you have never been defined by a doctor's diagnosis. Never have, never will.
The most any doctor can do is articulate what your body is or is not doing. A doctor cannot diagnose your life. You, in the hands of God, are the only one who determines the veracity of your life, the power of your living, the authenticity of your existence, the reality of your being. A doctor's diagnosis can only speak to the parameters within which your body can express the fullness of your soul and, even then, a doctor's diagnosis cannot possibly perceive the internalized reservoir of pure grit and determination your heart seeks to express in the person you are still becoming.
You are not the sum of an X-ray, a cat-scan, an MRI, a pet-scan, or any other imaging technology through which you journey. You are not the sum of what a surgery can remove or chemotherapy and radiation can treat, neither are you are the assessment of a doctor's consult or a oncologist's best seasoned reasonings.
You are a gift of God, not a diagnosis. Twenty-five years ago, when first our family was blessed to meet your family, when first you and I met as Pastor and parishioner, we quickly became good friends, best friends, precisely because you are who you are, not because of what anyone else said you were, nor because of what any doctor might have diagnosed you to become. We have shared the mountain-top highs and the lowest of valley experiences in the mutual respect, the earthy understandings, and the wonder of faith that has been our blessing to savor together. We have argued politics, debated parenting techniques, cried over disappointments, laughed about 'not being able to fix stupid' (in others, of course!), and always, always looked forward to the next time we could be together walking trails, sharing a drink, telling another story, enjoying the quiet of a new day, or simply watching the beauty of the night sky in awe. You are to me the best friend a man could possibly be purely because no-one on earth is like you.
In your trueness to self, you have chosen to be true to others, but you have never allowed yourself to be defined by them, as much as your incredible wife might like to have tried . . . and now is not a time to start, my friend.
In what has been diagnosed, God is with you in whom you are still becoming. In the things which will need to be done, your family will lend to you their strength, love and support to continue being who you have been all along. In the midst of the questions and challenges before you, your friends and faith family will gather you in the prayer, peace and embrace that only those who know you best can bring to you as you continue to live your days fully and well. Now is not the time to stop 'being'. Now is the time to live more fully the person you have been becoming all along. For, truth be told, that is all God has ever wanted for you, for any of us . . . to be authentic to our 'self' as only each of us can be, regardless of what others may say.
Some may diagnose your life, some may curse it, others may praise it, yet, if you are true to the life you are given to live, no one can ever take it from you . . . for, as you have taught me all along, life is God's from the beginning and so it shall be forever. That is the good news of the Gospel.
I love you, my friend, for all that you are and are becoming - and always will.
A doctor's diagnosis has never defined you. Never has, never will.
When you were born, the doctor may have said to your sainted Mother, 'My condolences . . .' or 'It's a boy, but not sure how he'll turn out . . .' or even, 'Try taking this one home to show the neighbors . .', but no doctor's comments, no doctor's observations, and certainly no doctor's diagnosis ...has ever defined you. You have been defined by the God of your faith from the first.
You have also been defined by the choices you have made and by the man you have chosen to become. You have been defined by the love of the wonderful woman with which you have chosen to spend your life. You have been defined by the heart of love you shared with your daughter all her days. You have been defined by the sharpness of your wit, the keenness of your wisdom, the audacity of your will for life, your passion for the earth and all that dwells therein, and by your strength of character which has served as your moral, ethical and religious compass all your days. But, you have never been defined by a doctor's diagnosis. Never have, never will.
The most any doctor can do is articulate what your body is or is not doing. A doctor cannot diagnose your life. You, in the hands of God, are the only one who determines the veracity of your life, the power of your living, the authenticity of your existence, the reality of your being. A doctor's diagnosis can only speak to the parameters within which your body can express the fullness of your soul and, even then, a doctor's diagnosis cannot possibly perceive the internalized reservoir of pure grit and determination your heart seeks to express in the person you are still becoming.
You are not the sum of an X-ray, a cat-scan, an MRI, a pet-scan, or any other imaging technology through which you journey. You are not the sum of what a surgery can remove or chemotherapy and radiation can treat, neither are you are the assessment of a doctor's consult or a oncologist's best seasoned reasonings.
You are a gift of God, not a diagnosis. Twenty-five years ago, when first our family was blessed to meet your family, when first you and I met as Pastor and parishioner, we quickly became good friends, best friends, precisely because you are who you are, not because of what anyone else said you were, nor because of what any doctor might have diagnosed you to become. We have shared the mountain-top highs and the lowest of valley experiences in the mutual respect, the earthy understandings, and the wonder of faith that has been our blessing to savor together. We have argued politics, debated parenting techniques, cried over disappointments, laughed about 'not being able to fix stupid' (in others, of course!), and always, always looked forward to the next time we could be together walking trails, sharing a drink, telling another story, enjoying the quiet of a new day, or simply watching the beauty of the night sky in awe. You are to me the best friend a man could possibly be purely because no-one on earth is like you.
In your trueness to self, you have chosen to be true to others, but you have never allowed yourself to be defined by them, as much as your incredible wife might like to have tried . . . and now is not a time to start, my friend.
In what has been diagnosed, God is with you in whom you are still becoming. In the things which will need to be done, your family will lend to you their strength, love and support to continue being who you have been all along. In the midst of the questions and challenges before you, your friends and faith family will gather you in the prayer, peace and embrace that only those who know you best can bring to you as you continue to live your days fully and well. Now is not the time to stop 'being'. Now is the time to live more fully the person you have been becoming all along. For, truth be told, that is all God has ever wanted for you, for any of us . . . to be authentic to our 'self' as only each of us can be, regardless of what others may say.
Some may diagnose your life, some may curse it, others may praise it, yet, if you are true to the life you are given to live, no one can ever take it from you . . . for, as you have taught me all along, life is God's from the beginning and so it shall be forever. That is the good news of the Gospel.
I love you, my friend, for all that you are and are becoming - and always will.
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