Dear Friend,
There’s nothing you can do – at least it seems that way. I’ve got a problem you can’t fix. Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe in miracles or cures or healing. I believe in all three. I even, slowly but surely, believe in the body’s ability to heal itself. But, you can’t fix it. It’s my body that’s got to heal itself.
I’m writing to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being understanding of your not knowing what to do, not knowing how to support, and for the times you’ve felt helpless, it’s not one of our favorite feelings. It’s overwhelming and can lead us in a tailspin if we let it. It can propel us to reach out and want to fill the empty feeling, the void, the chasm, of wanting but not being able. There is a poverty in being sick and there is a poverty in suffering with another. We don’t like poverty. It’s an uncomfortable reality that all we have is a gift. All false notions of self are striped naked when disease comes to the light. For he who is sick is in need of a physician. I get it. It’s not comfortable. It’s terrifying to recognize our limitations; there are days it’s infuriating. But as we work through our frustrations we come to see an invitation in our powerlessness “let me love you,” He beckons. “Weak and strong, let me love you.” And it is there, that there is a great strength.
Even though, only I can walk my story, thanks for letting me I know I don’t walk it alone. For in that accompaniment, you have provided the greatest gift - the gift of true friendship. Thanks for being Simon of Cyrene and Veronica along this journey.
Verso l’alto,
KC
May your tears come from laughing, you find friends worth having
with every year passing they mean more than gold
Love will hold us together/ Make us a shelter to weather the storm and I’ll be my brother's keeper so the whole world will know that we’re not alone.
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