Embracing REAL

When I turned 40 a few years ago, a switch flipped inside of me and I suddenly stopped caring so much what people thought of me.  Oh, I'm still concerned with making a good impression and I enjoy being liked as much as the next gal, don't be fooled.  But I am blessedly free from the anxieties and pressures that motivated my actions and shaped my opinions of myself for much of my youth.  God knows I wasted a helluva lot of time giving a shit what other people thought of me, doing what all women do, "comparing my insides to other people's outsides".  Maybe I was just slow on the uptake but it took me what seems like an inordinate amount of time to realize that the only approvals I needed were mine and God's.  Since He spoke the earth into motion and made me, in His image, with my mind, my emotions AND my Teutonic psyche there must be something that He made that way on purpose.

With that in the back of my mind I've been thinking about how transparent my life has become.  One of the sequelae of living a life alongside someone with cancer is that I find it hard to make small talk.  I used to be really good at it.  "Establishing rapport" is what we call it in medicine and having spent 8 years working in family practice I got quite good at it, this art of medicine.  It came to me fairly naturally by personality and for me the way in to a person's REAL stuff was always through their small talk.   During a medical visit small talk makes transition easier for people - it is small after all and let's one build up to the BIG of what's real and serious or delicate or vulnerable or you fill in the blank.  What's difficult. Or painful.  Or taboo.  Or just plain hard.  But now, small talk just seems like what it is, small.  It no longer feels appropriate when I speak about my life.  Questions have REAL answers after all.

What this looks like then is the following: I find myself at the check-out counter and the cashier asks me what my plans are for "this beautiful day", without missing a beat I'll tell her I'm taking lunch to my husband in the hospital because the food sucks there.  Or when my uber-chippy Starbucks barista asks me how my day's going, I usually pause too long before saying something REAL like, "I'm wiped out actually".  What almost always ensues is a dynamic and intimate conversation about cancer, lymphoma, chemotherapy, the tragedy that is having a young husband dealing with all the above.  And almost always, a brief testimonial to God's grace and mercy throughout it all comes about, inevitably because they bring it up.  Nope, no small talk for me, just the unvarnished truth of what's going on in my moment.  

 I was truly glad when I turned 40.  Not, mind you, because I got to start feeling achy and aware of my diminishing returns year after year but because I was finally at home with the REAL on so many levels.  Now this cancer journey has given me new opportunities to embrace the REAL in my life and I am blessed and encouraged by each encounter, whether serious, delicate, vulnerable, difficult, painful, taboo, or just plain hard.  I'd say sorry world, it sucks to be you when you cross my path on an especially tough day and ask how I'm doing, but really, I think the world is fortunate.  Not because of me and what I'm putting out there particularly, but because the world needs authenticity, more REAL and less small.  I find it refreshing and judging from the number and depth of my encounters I'd say the world is clamoring for it.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps ~ Proverbs 16:9

I've been getting a lot of kuddos lately and folks are often mentioning that my blog is great, yadda yadda and that reading it makes them feel like I am talking right to them.  I'm often encouraged to write a book.  Just this weekend I saw my elderly aunt Phyllis who said I was "quite a writer" which came as quite a surprise.  1) I had no idea she was reading my blog and 2) it is sprinkled with profanity.   Not knowing what "quite a writer" meant coming from my 90 year old Lutheran organist aunt, I held her compliment in my mind alongside other nebulous descriptors like "interesting", "unique" and "amazing".  However, when she left the party that evening she whispered in my ear to keep writing and said she liked my "strong words".  It seems that no matter their age or station, people appreciate the honesty with which I describe my situation.  From your comments I know that many of you enjoy experiencing the cancer journey vicariously from my insider's perspective.  While it may sound that I'm suggesting you enjoy rubbernecking on my experience, that's not exactly what I mean.  


I believe there is a fundamental fascination we have as human beings when there is an accident or tragedy unfolding in front of us ~ we watch because it's fascinating and we keep watching because of the important questions that are triggered inside of us that need answering.  We watch because it isn't us.  Yet as we get older and wiser we understand that it could easily have been us and might be us the next time.  As I watch the crisis in Japan I hear a myriad of questions about our own preparedness, security, personal safety and planning swirling all around.  The opportunities for anxiety mount and are many.  Yet so too are the opportunities for my strength and God's grace to show themselves.  


When I am on the outside looking in on someone else's tragedy, the questions I ask myself are "how does he/she do it every day?", or "would I be able to do what they are doing?", or "would my faith get me through?"   As you watch Team Conrad I wonder what your questions are and I hope and pray that you are not backing away from looking at them.  There is so much to learn about yourself and God.    


Now that I am on the inside those hypothetical questions of mine are getting real time answers.  "It is what it is", a fundamental Truth I accepted long before Phil got cancer.  I do whatever is in front of me every day because honestly, how else does one get through life?  By doing what isn't?  By trying to make things happen that are out of one's control?  By pushing a rock uphill and just wishing for things to be different than they are?  I strive to be fully responsible for my choices in life thank you very much, but, "In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps" Proverbs 16:9.  Having said that, I graciously lay it all at the foot of Christ to get through the day.


Dan Millman in Way of the Peaceful Warrior says " Every positive change--every jump to a higher level of energy and awareness--involves a rite of passage. Each time to ascend to a higher rung on the ladder of personal evolution, we must go through a period of discomfort, of initiation. I have never found an exception."  That has been my absolute experience so why should this rite of passage be any different.  I fully expect to come out the other side of this crucible wiser, stronger and definitely more aware.  I already am in a myriad of ways.


One thing is for sure.  I could never write just any book.  It would have to be a memoir.  To create characters and give them life and personality and create a story and plot lines and dialog... probably not going to happen.  I'll stick to what I know how to do ~ talk about what is happening in my life, my mind and my heart.  To write about the examined life I live and to encourage you in living yours similarly.  But my story isn't finished yet and I've no idea how it will turn out.  Until I do there will be no book, only these musings and  writings.  I trust that I will know when it is finished, but until then, there is nothing like knowing oneself intimately and giving of yourself, loving freely and vulnerably.  May God continue to direct my steps on that path, and you in walking on yours.




post script  
The Conrad brother's, Jamie, Phil and David will be traveling to Stone Harbor, New Jersey this weekend to spend some family time with their mother Margaret and their father, James Conrad, SR. who has entered hospice care for end-stage prostate cancer.  Please keep the entire family in your prayers as they travel and meet together to share fellowship this one last time.