The Habit of Perennial Gladness

"Gladness is Perennial. --- Now, if we have made it clear to ourselves that there is in each of us a foundation of Gladness, not an intermittent but a perennial spring, enough and to spare for every moment of every year of the longest life, not to be checked by sorrow, pain, or poverty, but often flowing with the greater force and brightness because of these obstructions; if we are quite sure that this golden Gladness is not our own private property, but is meant to enrich the people we pass in the street, or live with in the house, or work with or play with, we shall be interested to discover why it is that people go about with a black dog on their shoulder, the cloud of gloom on their brow; why there are people heavy in movement, pale of countenance, dull and irresponsive.  You will wish to find out why it is that children may go to a delightful party, picnic, haymaking, or what not, and carry a sullen countenance through all the fun and frolic; why young people may be taken to visit here or travel there, and the most delightful scenes might be marked with a heavy black spot in the map of their memories, because they found no gladness in them; why middle-aged people sometimes go about with sad and unsmiling countenances; why the aged sometimes find their lot all crosses and no joys.  

"This question of gladness or sadness has little to do with our circumstances.  It is true that we should do well to heed the advice of Marcus Aurelius: 'Do not let your head run upon that which is none of your own, but pick out some of the best of your circumstances, and consider how eagerly you would wish for them were they not in your possession.'"

--Charlotte Mason, Ourselves (emphasis mine)

....a good reminder from my current reading.  Circumstances come and go, but gladness and gratitude may stay no matter what is happening in the circumstances of one's life.  That's not to say that we can't be sad when we suffer losses or feel down about a situation.  That's not to say that we shouldn't seek help when we are too depressed to get out of bed or function in daily life. That's not to say that we can't have a gloomy disposition on a tired or hard day.  But it is to say that "looking on the bright side" is, more than anything else, a habit that is cultivated over time.  

My neighbor has a quote on her wall: there is always something to be thankful for.  

And I think that's true. 

How Does Cancer Change You?

Recently I sipped a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold tea while a friend asked me, so, how has cancer changed you? 

This is hard to answer, because the shift has been so fundamental.  In my mind, cancer changed everything. There's the obvious: my husband's multiple scars, his changed speech, the effort of eating. Then there's the more subtle: what's in the heart.

I respect his emotional privacy so I don't advertise that on here, but I can write about how it has changed me. 

Our lives look a lot like they did before cancer. My husband goes to work. I take care of homeschooling, homemaking, and children. Our rhythms and routines have fallen back into place, for the most part.  

And yet, my heart is so different.

I told my friend I feel like I live with more intention and she said "I already felt you were one of the most intentional people I know."  Perhaps, but even more so now.  

The scales fall away and you really do see what's worth spending time on and worrying over, and what's not.  

Perfectionism 

I will never again waste my time pursuing absolute perfection around the house or with my appearance (good thing, since I'm getting older and it shows). I just do my best and am satisfied with that.  It's not worth the trouble or worry to try to keep up appearances. I am totally done with it.  (I'd already kicked it to the curb to a certain extent before, but now it's gone.)

Perfectionism is overrated and rooted in pride.  Last year humbled me to my core as I realized over and over again how human I truly am and how little I can truly do on my own.  I spent such a long time in earlier years feeling more concern over my image than I should have; a life-threatening illness put everything into sharp perspective.  I'm not saying that I'm living a slovenly, devil-may-care existence (ha, that is not me at all), but rather that I'm finally starting to do the right things for the right reasons, instead of the right things for the wrong reasons.

This is a huge heart change and has made a big difference in my life.

Suffering People 

Other people matter.  Suffering people matter.  The Holy Spirit definitely spoke to me recently and sent me to take the kids to look in on an elderly couple in our church who couldn't get out.  It was such a nice visit and I know it mattered to them.  Such a small thing to us.  Yes, we gave up a morning of homeschool.  So what?  What's the point of "homeschool" if you can't learn how to live life?

So many small things mattered to us during my husband's cancer treatments.  You have no idea how the tiniest things really do matter.  My heart is so much bigger now for other people who suffer.  In so many ways I wish I could turn back the clock and do more for some people who are now gone, whose suffering perhaps I could have eased a little bit if I'd realized what a difference it could have made.  I can never get that back.  I can never do that and I genuinely regret it.  All I can do now is learn from my experiences and allow the Holy Spirit to boss me instead of always trying to boss myself.

Selfishness 

I'm so much less selfish now.  I can't believe how selfish I have been, especially when I was a little younger.  When Finn was little I was still a selfish, juvenile person.  I don't think other people saw me that way but I know what was in my heart and how I put myself first over and over again. Cancer cured me of this because it helped me see how worthless and shallow the pursuit of my own agenda really is.  I was a productive person at the expense, often, of other people whom I loved and that is simply no longer acceptable to me. That's not to say I don't still struggle with selfishness: I DO.  But it's easier for me now to squash those tendencies and re-align myself with what matters most. 

Surrender 

I'm the oldest child of my family and used to be a type-A, over-achieving, control freak.  In my 20s I learned not to try to control my husband, but I still tried to exercise a lot of control over a lot of things.  That slowly eroded as I got older and wiser, but cancer was, without a doubt, *the* thing that made me surrender control.  To be honest, it takes heaps of effort and energy to try to control and manage so much, and I'd simply rather put my time and energy elsewhere.  I had to let go of so many things last year.  I had to let other people care for my children a lot, for instance, because I had to care for my husband.  It was so hard for me to do this.  All I could do was to ask God to step in and take care of it all, and He did.  The idea that we have control over our lives is a pretty little illusion that we often indulge in to keep ourselves feeling secure, but true security is only found in trusting God with everything in our lives--the process, the outcome, all of it. 

And finally....focus.....

What really matters in life?  It's such a cliche to say that cancer teaches us what matters most.  And yet.....it does.  What matters is loving others the way God loves us, caring for others with grace and empathy and compassion (particularly our own family members, but also strangers), and realizing that God is both sovereign *and* good.  When all that is internalized, so much of the chaff of daily life is blown away and allows us to focus on the wheat: the real, nutritious, living parts of life that feed our souls and nourish the souls of others.  

All this isn't to say that I'm a humble, compassionate, unselfish, surrendered, focused soul who can now blissfully float through her many daily responsibilities with nary a furrowed brow.  Oh, how I WISH that were true! But I'm human and imperfect.  However, it is true that I am more humble, more compassionate, more unselfish,  more surrendered, and more focused than I was a year or two ago.  

Not everyone is impacted by illness in the same way.  I remember years ago talking to a colleague who had lost his mother at a young age, just as I did.  He said losing her made him really ambitious: he wanted to achieve and DO and conquer. For me, losing my mother made me want to do less, because I saw how fragile and precious the days really are, and how important it is to invest in relationships and not goals.  So just because this is how cancer has changed *me*, it's not how cancer changes everyone.  We're all unique and God has different lessons for each of us to learn through our trials. 

 It's just a matter of keeping our hearts and eyes open to see where He is leading us. 

For the Hungry Soul

A True Lent

by Robert Herrick

Is this a fast, to keep

The larder lean,

And clean

From fat of veals and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish 

Of flesh, yet still

To fill 

The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour,

Or Ragg'd to go,

Or show

A downcast look and sour?

No: 'tis a fast to dole

Thy sheaf of wheat 

And meat

Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife,

From old debate 

And hate;

To circumcise thy life. 

To show a heart grief-rent; 

To starve thy sin;

Not bin: 

And that's to keep thy Lent. 

Lent began last week and the daffodils are blooming.  My husband continues to be cancer-free.  I lost my darling grandfather three weeks ago.  My cousin just had her third baby last week.  Life in all of its joys and sorrows continues, and in the midst of it, Lent and the promise of resurrection and eternity.