04/24/2023
April 24, 2023
MEDITATION FOR TODAY
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28
In February, when Pennsylvania Senator John Fetterman was experiencing depression after having had a stroke last year, my mind and memory went back to a scene at our family kitchen table, in the late 1970s. My Dad sat at that table and seemed to be in his own world. He answered questions with a nod or shake of the head. He spoke in half-sentences or with very few words. This wasn’t the Dad I knew, wasn’t the husband my Mom knew. Even during the months preceding that kitchen table malaise, when he had gotten the shattering diagnosis of Stage IV throat cancer, he’d been the positive, upbeat, ‘we-can-do-this!’ person he’d always been. When he learned that he would need laryngectomy surgery – would lose his voice box and his voice – his strength and optimism never wavered. On the day that we received that frightening diagnosis, I trembled in the back seat of the car while Mom sobbed in the front seat, as Dad drove us home from the doctor’s office. When he parked the car and turned off the ignition, he reached over to pat Mom’s shoulder and he said, grinning, “Think of it this way, kiddo. In 38 years of marriage, you haven’t listened to much I’ve had to say, so I don’t see what difference losing my voice is going to make.” That did it. That was vintage Dad! Mom and I dissolved into laughter, and we were back to being our usual, positive selves. Dad sailed through his surgery at Mt. Sinai Hospital in New York, and he began his speech therapy, in Bethlehem, with enthusiasm. But now, about a month after he’d come home, he was quiet and withdrawn. We talked to his speech therapist. “Good!” she said, shocking us. “He has been so brave, so strong, so positive through this whole thing, that this letdown had to happen. It would be scary if it didn’t happen.” She explained that, courageous or not, Dad had been through a life-altering experience, one that traumatized his body and soul, his very sense of identity and being. “No one smiles their way through trauma,” she said, “and if they do, they’re just delaying the inevitable internal reckoning with what has happened to them.” It took a month or so, but soon Dad was himself again, learning to make guttural sounds that could turn into words. He even counseled other laryngectomy patients, something that gave him great satisfaction. Most of all, he was back to laughing, making jokes, encouraging others, and being the positive, ‘glass-half-full’ person he’d always been. Tough times are part of life. It’s okay to cry, to hurt, to fall down, and to need help. We must allow ourselves to be human, to feel pain, and to bend under the weight of trauma. And we must allow others to be human, frail, and frightened as well. “Lord, be with those who have been deeply wounded or traumatized in any way, and help us to be with them as well, with compassion and caring.”
Blessed Trinity Lutheran Church, in Bethlehem, PA, welcomes young people, families, and individuals of all ages for worship and fellowship. You are always welcome at Blessed Trinity!
© Carol Dean Henn
