we are angels in each other's lives

I often wonder about all the ways we make a difference in the lives of others, even though we may not know we have done so.  God may use us in many ways without our knowledge.

There have been some times, though, when I have sensed that I was a tool.  Yesterday was one of those days.  I have been following the blog of a woman whose husband is dealing with a urinary tract cancer.  Her husband is a now-retired former colleague, one with whom I did not work closely, but he always struck me as a good and wise human being, and I was sad to hear he had cancer.  I've never even met his wife.

As I have followed her blog, I have been struck by her honesty and engaging writing style as she has tried to make sense of this journey they are now on.

After many times of feeling a desire to write her an encouraging email, yesterday I felt a strong call to do so.  She had written about her mother telling her to "get over" the cancer and that cancer was no excuse for feeling depressed and wanting sympathy.
Here's part of the email I wrote:

You have a right to feel however you feel, and don’t let anyone make you question that.  You do what you need to do in order to get through each day, each night, and each week.  It would be a shock if you didn’t experience some depression or post-traumatic stress.  In fact, I have a friend who was diagnosed with early-stage endometrial cancer a year and a half ago.  The cancer was treated completely by a hysterectomy, and she has no gynecological cancer risk remaining.  And still, she has been in treatment for PTSD for over a year and just now is starting to feel whole again.

Cancer doesn’t just eat away at the body, piece by piece.  It also eats away at the minds and souls and lives of everyone close to it.  It consumes your life and takes it over.  For those not living with it and sleeping with it and laying it all open for the doctors to figure out, life goes on as usual and cancer is just a blip.  Those people can’t understand why you act like life is so different now; they don’t understand that your life truly is different.  The time between appointments and treatments is, to them, what “normal” is.  For you, it isn’t even an oasis.  Although you may have more time to take care of some daily tasks, your mind is still on what came before and what comes next.  Everything else is just going through the motions.  To others, a doctor’s appointment is just an appointment.  To you, a doctor’s appointment is fraught with fear, anxiety, caretaking, preparation, and the unknown.  Each appointment is a distillation of all of life’s biggest challenges.  Add days and months of appointments to each other, and it’s a miracle that you’re still here, still thinking and feeling, still managing to get to those appointments.  And there are daily miracles in the midst of all of this, when you manage to shower, accomplish laundry, and see to the feeding and care of your own body—not to mention that of your husband’s.

Right now, your own daily survival is a monumental accomplishment.  You have no obligation to put on a happy face for the benefit of anyone else.  Right now should be about you and your husband.  And if you find the energy to speak up and talk back, well, you are not at your best right now, and no one should expect you to be.  And anyone who can't handle that is welcome to go make hotel arrangements or take over the cooking and cleaning for you.

No matter the outcome of anyone’s cancer diagnosis, there is a period of time when you must simultaneously prepare for the worst while hoping for the best.  How can one mind, one heart, contain those two contradictory tasks without being bruised?

I sent it, along with a request that she not even reply because she has enough on her to-do list and I just wanted her to know she was in my prayers.  I had a strong feeling that it was the right thing for me to do, sending the email, and when I clicked on Send I figured that was that.  I felt a sense of peace at having sent the email, and that was how I knew it was a God-thing.  Or so I thought.

Two hours later, I received an email--from her husband.  It said this:

I'm filled with gratitude; words fail.  Thank you for being a quite literal angel for my beloved [wife] during a particularly rough patch for her.  Your wise, humane, and loving words constitute an inexpressible comfort.

I was (actually, I still am) touched.  There have been many times when I have followed through with something I have felt called to do.  Most of the time, I am filled with a sense of peace and rightness.  Every so often, though, I am given a reminder of what my purpose is in this life and that in small ways, every now and then, I am fulfilling that purpose.  Despite all the roughness of the past year for myself, this man has now served as an angel in return, to let me know that I still have something to offer, that I can still make a difference.