The last two weeks have brought sadness to the cystic fibrosis community. I have read of three people with CF who have died during this time, and just this morning read of another young woman who has chosen to have no more treatments. What gifts these people of given to their families.
When the tragic bus accident happened in Georgia and members of the
Bluffton University baseball team lost their lives, I remember reading the reaction of one of the dads of one of the players. He was asked if he was angry losing his son who had died in the accident. His response? I had a wonderful gift for twenty years. How can I be angry?
The following post by
Steve Goodier really summarizes it all.
A story about an old Bendix washing machine helped one man get
through the valley of loss. *
His parents acquired the washer when John Claypool was a small boy.
It happened during World War II. His family owned no washing machine
and, since gasoline was rationed, they could ill afford trips to the
laundry several miles away. Keeping clothes clean became a problem
for young John's household.
A family friend was drafted into the service, and his wife prepared
to go with him. John's family offered to store their furniture while
they were away. To the family's surprise, the friends suggested they
use their Bendix while they were gone. "It would be better for it to
be running," they said, "than sitting up rusting." So this is how
they acquired the washer.
Young John helped with the washing, and across the years he
developed an affection for the old, green Bendix. But eventually the
war ended. Their friends returned. In the meantime he had forgotten
how the machine came to be in their basement in the first place.
When the friends came to take it away, John grew terribly upset --
and let his feelings be known.
His wise mother sat him down and said, "Wait a minute, Son. You must
remember, that machine never belonged to us in the first place. That
we ever got to use it at all was a gift. So, instead of being mad at
it being taken away, let's use this occasion to be grateful that we
had it at all."
The lesson proved invaluable. Years later, John watched his
eight-year-old daughter die a slow and painful death of leukemia.
Though he struggled for months with her death, John could not
really begin healing from the loss until he remembered the old
Bendix.
"I am here to testify," he said, "that this is the only way down the
mountain of loss...when I remember that Laura Lou was a gift, pure
and simple, something I neither earned nor deserved nor had a right
to. And when I remember that the appropriate response to a gift,
even when it is taken away, is gratitude, then I am better able to
try and thank God that I was ever given her in the first place."
His daughter was given to him to love and nurture. She never
belonged to him, but he had the awesome privilege of sharing her
life for a while. When he realized that simple fact, everything
changed. He could now begin healing from the tragedy of her loss by
focusing instead on the wonder of her life. He started to see Laura
Lou as a marvelous gift that he was fortunate enough to enjoy for a
time. He felt grateful. He found strength and healing. He finally
knew he could get through the valley of loss.
We all experience loss -- loss of people, loss of jobs, loss of
relationships, loss of independence, loss of esteem, loss of things.
What if you view that which is lost as a gift you were given for a
time? Perhaps that simple choice of trying to reframe your loss will
change sad memories into thankful ones. And perhaps it will get you
unstuck and back on the road to healing and wholeness.
-- Steve Goodier
* Story from TRACKS OF A FELLOW STRUGGLER, by John Claypool
(Insight Press Inc., 1995).
