The Calm Before the Storm

I woke up to a disturbing email yesterday morning. My mom’s not one to write long emails, but this one was definitely longer than usual. And why? Her close friend from work had gotten a call in the middle of the day from her mom saying that her brother was found dead in a motel room with beer cans everywhere. Apparently he was an alcoholic for years, and although everyone “knew” that death was a reality, no one really expected that this day would actually come.

Then, just 2 hours later, a close friend of mine told me how her friend was just diagnosed with ovarian cancer the day prior, and has been given a year to live. She’s 24 years old.

As I ran through these stories in my mind, I was instantly sent back in time to January of 2000. It was my senior year at Bucknell, and my roommates and I were playing Hearts while pounding beers. That was when I received the call. The call that everyone gets at least once in their life. The call that changes the world as you know it. This was just my first.

I couldn’t understand what my mom was saying. It was like she was speaking a different language…and it wasn’t Japanese. The boisterous laughing from my roommates suddenly faded out of focus. All I could hear was my mom…but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I did know it wasn’t good though. I could hear that the moment I picked up the phone.

It took me a few minutes to decipher that my sister had just been diagnosed with Leukemia. She was only 16 yrs old. A baby. “No! Tell me your kidding…Tell me your kidding!”, I kept saying that over and over again.

I don’t remember much after that point. I know that when I came out of the room that I had retreated to, everybody was looking at me with hushed wonder. They knew something was up, but they didn’t dare say a word.

I didn’t sleep much that night, despite the number of hours that I spent in bed. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t be consoled. I was going to lose my sister…my one and only sister. I believe it hit me harder than anyone in my family. I think I was the only one who realized that we may never see her again. Everyone else was so optimistic and in denial. I couldn’t understand what part of 25% of dying they didn’t understand. That meant that if I had four sisters, I would definitely lose one of them. That’s a fact. And losing one is always a 100% loss.

My mom ended her email to me with a thought that has entered each of our minds at least one time or another.

…We all know that our lives here on earth are so short and never know when God decides to end it, but how many of us really think about it often enough to try our best to live one day at a time?

This is a broken world, full of disappointments, heartache, injustice, and pain. These things are a given. They can not be avoided. On top of that, our life is short. Even 100 yrs is a blink of an eye…and how many of us get to experience that? This verse came to mind.

…you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”

James 4:14

Most of us choose to go on through life dazed and confused by the beatings we take. We drown ourselves with “drugs” of distraction like work, money, addictions, or even relationships; but we rarely make our lives count for something eternal.

I’m thankful that my sister was diagnosed with cancer at age 16. That woke me up and made me realize how precious she was to me. She’s been my best friend ever since. And I believe she was blessed to be awakened at a young age as well. She’s out there saving lives as a doctor now (as of 1 month ago), and sharing God’s love to every person that she meets in life.

What has that phone call done for you?