Sometimes I lack courage

A brief warning: Today’s journal post is a bit whiny. If you aren’t in the mood for another whiny article, you might do well to skip today’s post. I’m sure I’ll move on to another topic soon.

I have long admired courage. I’m not talking about bravado or machismo or brashness. I often don’t admire those qualities and they often are far from courage. Bluster is not courage in the face of adversity. I have, however, been witness to genuine displays of courage over the course of my lifetime. I was able to witness a decade in the life of a woman as rheumatoid arthritis slowly consumed and nearly immobilized her hands and wrists and progressed to other joints until she required a wheelchair for mobility and became dependent upon caregivers for normal living. She lived every day with pain as a constant companion. And she maintained incredible cheerfulness and genuine concern about other people. If she wavered in her faith, I never saw it and we talked about faith a great deal. She demonstrated incredible courage every day and has been a model for me when I have faced minor illnesses.

As pastor I have sat with people as they traveled through the trials of the end of their lives and faced their deaths with courage and dignity. They taught me not to fear my own death and to speak openly of mortality. They also taught me the power of resurrection and made me a better preacher and pastor.

I have been blessed with the presence of a friend as Parkinson’s disease took from him the ability to pursue his usual passion for outdoor recreation. A naturally talented paddler, the loss of balance came on gradually, but over time took away his ability to safely control his kayak and then made everyday tasks like walking and talking nearly impossible. Tremors that simply shook one hand early in the disease’s progress became immobilizing for his entire body. He never lost his passion for his students or the process of teaching even when the disease prevented him from working. He showed true courage in the face of disease and a zest for life in the face of death.

When I was in my twenties I witnessed my father’s reaction to a devastating diagnosis of a very aggressive cancer. He immediately went to work reading and studying and sought to understand every conversation with every new doctor about every new procedure. He held on to his sense of humor and concern for others even when the rapidly progressing disease robbed him of his retirement dreams. He showed me the path of courage that puts service to others above personal ambition.

When I received my own cancer diagnosis, which is not one of a fatal disease, but rather a treatable cancer that one can live with for decades without serious disability, I pledged to avoid the use of battle language and to see this particular journey as an opportunity to grow my faith, learn about the science and art of medicine and become more compassionate for those whose cancer experiences are more severe and more debilitating than mine. I have walked through cancer with two friends whose lives were cut short by pancreatic cancer and I have seen their courage. I understood that my cancer is entirely different and demands far less courage.

Still, yesterday, it seemed as if my courage was failing. Another meeting with another brilliant doctor whose title ends in “ologist” concluded with a variety of options but no clear path of treatment. There is a general sense that more time, more tests, and more appointments will be required before a treatment plan emerges and when the plan does emerge it might be less treatment and more waiting, observing, and tests. The doctor yesterday spoke of regular biopsies and MRIs. But I don’t want either to be “regular.” I don’t want to put my travel plans on hold because the distance between appointments is short and uncertainty about the next season becomes a lifestyle. After my appointment yesterday I went for a bike ride and contemplated scheduling a surgery. I was ready to ask a doctor to simply cut it out. I know that such a decision has side effects that will not only be a part of my life but also impact my family. I know that there is no need to rush to treatment, and there are plenty of reasons to delay. But I’m tired of appointments and procedures and there are times when I just want to make a decision and get it over with. It would not be the path of courage. A passion to get it over with is not courage. Decisions made in the midst of emotional waves are rarely wise. On the other hand I allowed myself to be swept by emotion and embrace “why wait?” when it came to getting married despite the advice of parents and others to wait. It turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life. I don’’t want to discount emotion, but I don’t want to rush to irrational decisions, either. I need courage to balance emotion, solid scientific evidence, and multiple modalities of treatment with critical thinking.

I seriously wonder if I have the courage for the next phases of my life.

I remember reading the Diary of Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel’s Night and wondering if I had the courage to live in a country in the grip of fascism where power was abused to victimize innocents and destroy lives. I imagined that I would have the courage to stand up for the right even at the cost of risk to my own safety. And now I read daily of the incoming administration’s intentions to rob fellow citizens, including the majority who supported the president elect, of educational benefits, health care, and environmental protections while deporting the laborers who keep the price of groceries down and embracing tariffs that will certainly drive up the cost of basic essentials including clothing and housing. I see the aggrandizement of the most wealthy among us and the victimization of the most marginalized. I know that decisions are coming that will increase the number of homeless people in my community.

I seriously wonder if I have the courage to stand with those targeted as enemy by a regime that has an endless lust for enemies without and enemies within. Sometimes I wonder if I am too old for the struggles that lie ahead.

So I will once again read of Jeremiah’s argument that he lacked the resources to be a prophet and Isaiah’s call for long term resilience in the face of empire. I will read of Jesus’ compassionate sacrifice and Paul’s promise that faith, hope, and love remain. And I will get up another morning with renewed courage. After all, the courage that really matters is not a personal possession, but a gift from God who has not abandoned our people and who will not abandon me.

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