My cousin’s wife contracted pancreatic cancer in her 30’s. They had 3 beautiful young daughters, and the fight was gallant, but in the end she lost the battle. Seeing her at home in a hospital gown, IV’s wheeling around, trying to go about her day, was a hard thing for everyone to experience. She never gave up, and my cousin, Andy, was so full of faith and grace and hope all during the year she was undergoing treatment. He is a great inspiration to me and many others, as his faith is so solid.
Connecting, passing in the night
Andy drives semi on a route system at night and has for years, and through the years, when I’ve been traveling late at night, I would call him and we’d talk about everything from the weather to the traffic, or family catch-up, or even what our hopes and goals and fears were. Having gone through cancer treatments myself, I talk about the process more openly than some people might, so we have become very closely connected over the years. One night we were talking, both of us hands-free, of course, and after a few minutes I asked where he was tonight, and he said he was off his normal route (from Madison to either Chicago or Milwaukee) and had been asked to cover another driver’s route from Madison to LaCrosse and back. “No kidding!”, I said. “I’m on my way to Mankato and I’m on I-90 between Madison and LaCrosse right now!” “Get out of here! What mile marker are you at?”, he asked. I gave him the mile marker, and as it turned out, we passed each other going opposite directions less than a minute later, blinking lights to each other. Great coincidence. 🙂 His dad, my uncle, pulled me aside at a family function once and said, “Hey, you know how you call Andy once in a while?” I didn’t know that anyone else knew about our chats, but I answered “Yes?” “Keep doing that, OK?”, he said. And here I thought I was the one getting the benefit of our talks as I always felt better after our calls. My uncle passed away the next year.
The funeral…
Andy asked me to sing a very special song at his wife’s funeral when it came time. It was a song that they had especially enjoyed listening to together, one that meant a great deal to both of them. There Will Be A Day tells the story that one day, the tears will stop, the day when we see Jesus face to face. It would be the toughest song I ever sang, both from knowing the family and the situation, and the amazing story the song tells. It also is a song that has a wonderful presence of emotion built right into it, the mechanics and delivery can be powerful. I practiced it relentlessly, and I was determined to deliver it in my professional best way possible, detaching myself as best I could, to bring the power and a moment of grace to Andy and his girls that day. As the introduction to the song built up, I could feel at first a sweat coming over me, a great lump building in my throat, just feeling the emotion of their loss overwhelming me. At precisely the right moment, I had a feeling of peace on my neck and shoulders, a gentle touch relaxing me, a breath of air even, like a small fan had just turned on somewhere, but of course there was none. I delivered what is quite probably the best song delivery I have ever done, voice full, every emotion full and then drained from me by the end.
I told my wife about the experience afterward, and she calmly shared that she could see the emotion building in me, overcoming me, and that she had prayed right then that the Holy Spirit would comfort me, calm me, bring me peace and let me do the song for Andy and his girls.
Someone was watching over and helping me that day, and I am grateful.