Three years ago, Carmen lived her last day in this life and her first in the life to come. She was an extraordinary woman whose influence, mostly by the example of her consistent interest, care, and love, has been vast in scope and duration. For nearly 38 years we lived life together fully: raised kids, planted gardens, rode bikes, hiked mountains, read books, were frustrated and angry (mostly her with me), enjoyed the arts, watched lots of kid sports, sang in church, cooked, ate, cleaned up. In other words, we saw and did all of life together. Across the years, I saw in her a consistent godly character and desire to live life well, mindful of, and grateful for her redemption.
One of the difficulties of a long illness (for those who are the caregivers) is that it is often easier to vividly recall the days of sickness and decline than to remember the times that came before. But I am finding that the more I can recall the days before the cancer journey, the more I can celebrate the person who Carmen was for most of her days.
After she passed away, I had the privilege of reading some of her journals from over the years. While these were her private thoughts when she was living, I share some of what she wrote in this public forum to honor her memory and to celebrate her legacy and example. Soon after we had discovered the first tumor, but before we really knew what we were dealing with, she wrote, "So--I pray that I won't die soon and that I won't be seriously ill or affected with long term physical limitations. These things seem small to ask in light of the greatness of Your purpose in your kingdom; but I know You love me." She was a pragmatist, and not a Pollyanna at all, yet she was able to hold, at the same time, an awareness of the reality of her physical condition and a gratitude and worship of God and His purposes (mysterious as they may be). A year into chemo she also wrote, "Oh Lord, hear my cry, turn toward me and hear my prayer. My heart aches! I love my little girls and it's hard to think that I might not see them grow up. Lord--I guess I've been expecting that I will die sometime soon. That's so sad and hard. Please give me strength and comfort. I need you right now." She felt the feelings deeply, yet her faith did not waver. A week later she wrote, "Lord--there is endless life ahead for me! What an incredible gift. And I do look forward to that--trying to imagine what it might be like."
Around this same time, our pastor in Houston was preaching on the Beatitudes where Jesus taught, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Pastor Jim encouraged people to write down that for which they mourn and to allow God to bring comfort to those losses. Carmen wrote: "Lost--since my diagnosis: time that is carefree; trips to MN and time with the Grandgirls; ability to play and give to them; trip to Mountain Lakes; hair; eyebrows and lashes; the physical strength I had; times biking with Ken; Christmas at the normal time; mental acuity; the freedom to look ahead and plan fun and retirement and even mundane things." Then she went on to write, "Father--I may list more later--but every time I write something down, it seems You remind me of how much better other things are now or how the loss is more than compensated by some good things!!" She followed this by writing, "Next I must list what I have gained--not only the list of what's lost! I've gained--from having cancer: closer walk with God; incredible support from friends and family; deep bond with my girls--they're fighting with me and show love and maturity and we share the sadness too--all of it together; understanding peace and receiving comfort from God; a grasp of today--the present--living in it and resetting priorities; prayer--communicating with my Father and more, more, more."
Our cancer journey followed an up and down path. Several rounds of different types of chemo interspersed with "chemo holidays" to let Carmen's body recover a bit of strength and to see if the tumor growth and spread had been slowed. Even as the journey turned to the long-expected decline, she retained a focus on what was needed for her heart's health and wrote, "I am going to work on being thankful and on who You are instead of looking at myself and my limits -- Yes I have more limitations -- but You are limitless and what is ahead for me is so beyond all these limits!"
About one year before she died we made the decision to discontinue treatment and return to Minnesota to be closer to family for the duration. In those months she remained engaged with family and friends and even started a small group at our church specifically for cancer patients and their caregivers. Her focus and awareness of her need for God and her anticipation of life everlasting in His presence continued to grow. Even in the midst of so much that she/we had lost, she was able to write, "[Lord] You are faithful to Your covenant and don't go back on your promises. If you did--we would all be dust. But instead you care for us and bind up our wounds and tenderly hold us. Lord, I need you to do that these days. I feel the disease and not just the effect of the treatments. I want to LIVE the rest of my life and not just try not to die. Most certainly I need and want to keep very close to You. Jesus, Father, Holy Spirit, draw me close and speak to me. Direct my steps and my words. Help me not to be anxious or to squander my time and energy or even my words. Please Holy, Mighty Lord--use this time for Your glory and for those I live much."
Toward the very end she was unable to write much, but the very last journal entry I have been able to find sums up Carmen's life and legacy:
"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power."
Soli Deo gloria
