This spring marked two years since my sister-in-law’s death from early onset Alzheimer’s. I will not sugar coat it: her slow decline was grueling, heartrending. Her death at age 50 was devastating.
As I was praying for SIL, and her family who loved and cared for her, I remembered a conversation she and I had over 20 years ago. We were both in our late twenties. It was one of those talks about life and love and everything in between that you have over ice cream cones on a beautiful summer day. (SIL always said she had a separate stomach for ice cream.)
As SIL and I ate and talked, our ice cream got meltier and our conversation deepened. We broached a tough subject: early onset Alzheimer’s seemed to run in her family. She had questions, thoughts, concerns. Sentences trailed off until we simply sat quietly together, looking out at the lake. At some point, I told her about a quote I’d read from Hugh Prather. It goes:
‘We are walking in a ticker-tape parade. That’s all that’s going on. Some pieces of confetti read “great calves,” some “chronic sinus,” some “no noticeable hair loss,” some “multiple sclerosis,” and some “third-finger amputation.” Don’t judge your neighbor by what pieces of paper fall on his or her shoulders. Don’t think you are cursed or blessed by what pieces fall on yours.’
SIL nodded pensively, crunched the last of her cone. “Ticker tape. I really like that.”
I did, too. Still do.
It’s damn tough, though. It’s hard to be completely honest about how much of life is out of our control. For example: who in the family might get early onset Alzheimer’s.
Most of life, and certainly most tragedy, is frighteningly random. (A few years ago I wrote a whole book about the randomness of tragedy in an attempt to wrap my head around it.)
Blech, no thank you, I’ll pass on lack of control. Pass me the mashed potatoes instead, please.
It’s way easier and a whole lot more comforting to fool myself, create distance from disaster. Find someone or something to hang blame on.
And if I’m lucky? If fortune favors me? Boy howdy can I come up with a million good reasons why. You can bet I’m gonna credit the choices I’ve made. And you can further wager I’m not the only one who does this. A helluva lot of us would like to believe our good fortune is because of something we did — and, to put a finer point on it: what we did that others could have done but chose not to.
So. Does accepting randomnicity (sure, that’s a word) instead of fooling myself mean I’m a nihilist?
Um. Have we met?
I deeply believe in goodness and mercy and God. I only want good in this word. Well… except when I’m hungry, tired, or feeling petty. But shhh, that’s not what we’re talking about here.
I love beautiful coincidences and little miracles. I have a deep deep faith that just so happens to jibe with Christ. But —
I don’t think Jesus is Santa Claus. I don’t think Jesus keeps a list of who’s naughty or nice, who’s in or out, who’s saved or damned, who deserves good toys or who gets coal in their stocking. Who gets sick and who doesn’t.
And in spiritual-but-not-religious terms if that’s your lingo: I don’t think chronic or terminal illness is due to improper “wellness” routines, or bad karma from this life or a past one, or a lack of positive thinking, or the wrong kinds of vibes.
Sure, we can practice gratitude, we can pray. By all means. Pray all you want! Meditate, make thankfulness lists, ask for whatever you need from God … or the Universe, the Divine Always, Mother Earth, the Great Cosmic Echidna, whatever Greater Power you believe in.
God knows (literally, God knows) that I pray A LOT. I ask for guidance allllll the dang time.
But I surely don’t think God is sitting up there like a divine DJ, grooving out in a heavenly DJ booth, getting ready to play whatever it is I request.
What I think, what I’ve come to believe, is that sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes tragedy strikes. And maybe we don’t need to feel blessed or cursed by what we get.
The part where faith fits in? Maybe, just maybe, it can help us cultivate the humility, grace, and courage to love our neighbors fiercely, whatever might fall on their shoulders, or ours.
Faith can give us company on our journey and help us be good company to others.
It gives me that — however imperfectly I embody it. And it gives me the hopeful resilience to try again, and again, even when my little heart is grieving and broken and missing those ice creams with my SIL.
Thanks for being such good company, friends.
Xoxo
J. J.
P.S. I posted a version of this April 7, 2023 on Facebook. Posts that have appeared elsewhere will always be free. New content will be for paid subscribers.
P.P.S. The Hugh Prather ticker tape quote is from the March 2000 issue of The Sun.
P.P.P.S. The photo of two cones is by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto on Pexels.
Shit happens. God is not there or not watching. But if prayer makes you feel better ...
The Great Cosmic Echidna, my spiritual guide, agrees that “you make your own luck” is mainly a vanity. If you ask her nicely though, and promise to leave out an ant offering, she will play requests from the Aussie pub-rock scene of the 70’s. Only that. She moves in mysterious ways!