Five (and “Grace”)

As strange as it may sound, I’ve been five years old three times in my life…..chronologically, spiritually, and medically.  And yesterday was my fifth “medical birthday.”  On April 28, 2011, I had a bone marrow/stem cell transplant as part of my treatment plan for the blood cancer multiple myeloma.  And somehow, all at the very same time, it seems like it happened just yesterday and like it never really happened at all.  As I’ve shared with many people before, I was told by several of the medical professionals caring for me five years ago that I was going to be born again–and I felt like I surely was.

Over the years I’ve learned that, in Scripture, numbers are more than a little significant; and this is especially true for the number five.  Five means “grace.”  And, as most probably already know, grace can be defined as divine favor, as a gift, that is most undeserved.  And I simply cannot think of any word that better sums up how I feel in my spirit right now five long/short years out from cancer–though the word “gratitude” would be a close second for sure.  Yes, I am most grateful to God and to others (friends, family, even random strangers) for the tremendous helpings of grace I was given during a most challenging season of life–grace that did not disappear even after the cancer/effects of treatment did.

Several of my dear friends, unable to arrive at a place of remission from cancer, are the very ones who taught me the most about grace and gratitude.  Though they’ve since moved on from this realm to another, they were genuinely thrilled and grateful I was able to stay–that is friendship, that is love and that is grace.  A close friend (my husband) spent part of last night trying to talk me into being more joyful now.  “This is amazing!” he said.  And he’s right, five years is amazing.  I must admit that joy does appear to not come very naturally to me.  Unlike some I know (and envy), joy is probably not my calling card.  I don’t believe, though, God has given up on me in the joy arena–joy is simply one of the fruits of my spirit needing a lot more cultivating/fertilizing, perhaps with a few good doses of reckless abandon.

One friend (and former student), whose calling card is definitely joy, did grace me with her presence yesterday as well as with the presence of her precious little toddler.  She drove from the other side of the county just to treat me to my favorite drink, a Chai tea, on my transplant birthday.  Five years ago, she spent the summer with me and my little girl; and she walked me (yes, like a family pet) each day as I built my strength up post-transplant.  And our walks got longer and longer.  She wasn’t married and she wasn’t a mother yet.  A lot can change in five years.  One thing that hasn’t changed though is her sense of pure joy.  She, unlike me, moves forward without much reserve at all and with so much more than my ever-cautious/limited optimism.  I was her education professor once upon a time but I think she’s taught me perhaps much more, as has her delightful little boy who is unfiltered joy and reckless abandon itself.

Moving forward from year five, my desire is to show those around me much more grace, much more gratitude and, yes, much more joy too.  And I’ll start doing so right now as I tackle mounds of laundry (and clutter), much unfinished schoolwork,  floors coated with dog hair, the caretaking of that shedding dog after a major surgery she had last week, several unfinished writing projects and all of those other daily life things that I often have a very hard time feeling grateful and joyful doing.  I’m realizing that this messy life down here does require much grace, not only toward others but toward ourselves as well.

Now that I am five, I plan to implement what I will call a “Brother Lawrence” mentality, a reference to a man from the 1600’s who spent much of his life in the kitchen of a French monastery and who seemed to see God just as much in washing a dirty plate as he did in hours of meditation.  If God is indeed present everywhere, and I believe he is, then mundane chores are sacred, even when we feel like they are no fun at all.  And since I recently discovered that Brother Lawrence’s religious name was actually “Lawrence of the Resurrection,”  I simply cannot think of a better person to learn from today than one given such a title–a title which does fit most perfectly with the fifth celebration of my second rebirth.

Speaking of celebratory days, I feel as if that whole joy thing is being kicked into high gear.  Just as I shut my computer earlier (after writing the above paragraphs), I received a text/photo from my nurse niece in Virginia.  Her sister, who was our flower girl when we married over two decades ago, gave birth to her first child yesterday, April 28th; thus, this new baby and I now share birthdays.  Five years ago, my nurse niece was by my bedside in the transplant unit when that deed was done; and this week, on the very anniversary of that fateful day, she was by her sister’s bedside as a new life was ushered into this mixed-bag realm that is being wholly redeemed bit by bit every single day.  Yes, only God can pull this kind of stuff off!  Nothing down here can diminish his Goodness, Goodness brought to life for us in his Christ–so much joy, so much gratitude, so much Grace (which is, by the way, this lovely new baby’s middle name).