The Pressure of Survival

Tonight I have decided to start what will probably be several entries on how my faith has impacted my life, specifically my treatment and my life as a survivor. Faith....like peace of mind, can be so elusive. To be honest, I have to admit that in my life, and especially in the last several months, I have had many, many doubting Thomas moments. Moments where I just am not sure what God has in mind or why what has happened to me is or isn't in the plan. At the same time, as I look back over the past months, there have been some crystal clear messages given to me that have renewed and supplied my faith.

I guess some would not even think of these small acts as "signs" or "messages," but I believe that people of faith have to be listening for messages all the time. One message was given to me at our family Christmas get together in Iowa. We have started filling out those surveys that you get on e-mail among our family, and it has really been an opportunity to learn about each other. So one of my sister-in-laws created a survey for all of us to complete with questions all related to Christmas. One of the questions was: what is the best gift you have ever received? We went all around the room for all of us to answer. When it came to my brother, Jamie, he answered, "Him." And we all knew he meant Jesus. My first reaction: shame. My second: thankfulness. I had not even thought in that direction, but my brother had brought me back there. I needed that shaking. 

The second message came when one of my other brother and his wife were visiting. We were all sitting around the room talking about the movie The Passion. Amy was saying that when she saw the movie, she thought they overdid the beating. "No one could withstand that kind of beating," she had said. My parents reminded her, "No one but Jesus." Through him all things are possible. My brother followed the comment with, "And he did that for you. He did that for you! That's how it works." I could not believe my ears. My brother has not been particularly religious over the years, and I have never heard him say anything related to faith. The conversation went on as if nothing happened, but again, I felt the message was at the very least partly for me.

So where do I get stuck? I get stuck when I think of all who have died in their fight. The many, many children and adults whose stories I have followed and supported who did not win the fight. I get that there is more than we understand going on here. I understand that I cannot understand the plan. Yet I still feel a certain amount of pressure in having survived. I feel as if my actions are not only for my benefit but also for the benefit of those who died. Since I have been given the amazing gift of life, I feel I cannot waste it. I have to use every single minute to be the best I can be. Let me tell you something -- this gets tiring, really tiring. It is obviously impossible. None of us are perfect, least of all me. And yet there has been an urgency to my life that was driven by my belief in the precious gift God had given me by giving me my life.

I also have to admit that part of my suicidal thoughts included the thought of anger directed toward God. I thought to myself, "This life you gave me, God, it's not so damn hot...." 

There are many things about the Catholic church that I do not agree with. Part of their beliefs include the idea that suicide is a sin and that those who commit suicide have a chance of losing their spot in heaven. I personally believe in a more forgiving God. Yet I still believe that life is a precious gift. Our bodies are to be cherished and taken care of. 

I think that's enough heavy stuff for the night. Tomorrow I will share with you a poem that was yet another message given to me at the asylum, of all places. 

Sleep tight....don't let the bedbugs bite!