Now, Then, and After Then

In the midst of a world that continues to feel like it has been rocked to its core--personally, nationally, politically--it feels like I have a limited capacity to think about things. And very few answers. A few weeks ago I read Kate Bowler's "Everything Happens for a Reason:  And Other Lies I've Loved" and she nailed it for me:

"I am stuck in present tense. With a scan around each corner I have lost the ability to make extended plans; to reach into the future and speak its language. I have lost the rhythm of anticipating the seasons."

Living life in 8-week increments has allowed us several cycles of chemo holiday, but the clock starts ticking again the minute we walk out of MD Anderson. I am thankful for every 8-week holiday--as I should be--but it does not mute the incessant ticking of the clock. The odd part of all of this is that every person on earth is living in the shadow of the ticking clock. But it has taken cancer to take the clock off of mute and raise it to awareness every day.

And while I feel mostly stuck in "present tense" as Bowler describes, I battle with a strong desire to look ahead to try to at least be able to imagine some semblance of a hopeful, longer-term future. Right now I feel like I can work within a framework of three seasons of life to consider: Now, Then, and After Then.

Now is when Carmen is feeling pretty good with few limitations--no chemo (at least until the beginning of August); no surgery; no hospital; no travel restrictions or dramatic physical decline.

Then is when Carmen goes back into chemo; physical decline; and eventually her life is shortened and ended by the cancer.

After Then is when Carmen fully experiences total peace, comfort, satisfaction, and fulfillment in the presence of God. And it is when I will support my kids, grieve for myself, and work to find some hopeful future, meaning, purpose, and engagement until my earth-clock stops ticking.

In the Now, we are seeking to keep things as normal as possible. But with a heightened appreciation for what we have together and can experience. In the Then, I will strive to support and comfort to the greatest extent possible. In the After Then, I will support the kids, grieve, and find a new cadence of life that respects our 34+ years together, but does not live only in photographs and memories.

Honestly, I have no real idea of what that looks like. All I know is that I feel like I really want to be able to imagine a meaningful, hopeful, and pleasant future. Although it will be broken, I will still want my heart to be able to smile.