My husband and I recently watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," a movie based loosely on the story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Moments from that movie have been lurking around my brain ever since. The premise of the story is that because of a clock set to run backward, a child was born who was destined to live his life in reverse. His body started old and became young, while his mind and personality developed normally. He was perpetually out of sync with the rest of humanity. While young he couldn't play with the other kids because of the advanced age of his body. He grew up with a girl who became his greatest love. But, they had only a short time together as he grew younger and she grew older. It was a very painful story of love and age and youth.
This fictional story has echoes of reality about it. It strikes me that many people live lives that are out of step with those around them. I am thinking about those who are mentally ill or who have been born with a severe disability. I also think particularly about a friend of mine, Sarah, who has brain cancer.
Sarah is a few years older than I. She is warm hearted and good natured. She likes to organize events and to be surrounded by family and friends. She has a loving family, parents who love her, a brother and sister who are both married with kids of their own. But, for her, the last two decades have been spent battling cancer. Most of my time with Sarah has been spent while visiting her in various hospitals or skilled nursing centers. I have never heard her whine, but I have heard her wistful.
The greatest desire of her life was to have a family of her own: a husband and children. It is with joy and regret that she sees her nieces and nephews. This part of life has been denied her. Her cancer is back with a vengeance and it is unlikely that she will live much longer. And this fills me with inexplicable sadness. I saw her in the ICU a day or so ago. She hasn't been able to talk for a couple of weeks. I don't know what she is thinking, but I see her eyes follow me across the room. Just looking. Seems like the very essence of who she is wants to be free from the prison of her body. A body that has betrayed her.
I don't want her to die. I want her to have that life that she wished to have. I want her to see the sunshine and walk under the blue sky and feel the wind touch her cheek. I want her to hold hands with the love of her life and kiss her babies to sleep. It is hard to die when life here is unfinished.
The other day I presided at a funeral for a woman who was in her 90s. She had chosen the passage from scripture that speaks of Jesus at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. Martha says to him, in essence, if you had been around my brother would not have died. Where were you Jesus? Jesus reminds Mary of the resurrection and life that is found in God. And he weeps.
Jesus knew more than anyone the pain of death and grief. He saw the way disease and infirmity separated people from living "normal" lives. I wonder if he felt the weight of all the sorrow of this life. I wonder if he sensed the bitterness of the tears of those who would mourn the loss of loved ones in the years to come. I wonder if he knew how many tears would fall on his own behalf. He, too, led a life out of sync with those around him. He led a life pulled by the presence of God. Yet, he laughed and made friends and taught and healed and changed the world.
I hope Sarah knows that she too has changed the world. She has brought laughter and joy to her family and friends. She has brought healing and taught patience to those around her. It was not the life she would have chosen for herself, but it is her own. And, I am the better for knowing her.