Well, isn't this just too ironic for words?

For the past few years, I've been having a series of what for a better term, I'll call digestive problems. Mostly difficulties in swallowing and a variety of intestinal pains and malfunctions. I have had most of these symptoms before (albeit in ones and twos), and they had been attributed to stress, so I was just as happy to make the same attribution and try to press on. My productivity levels declined, as did my concentration, but I had dealt with depression before, and there were some similarities, so.....

A couple of months ago, Lydia was not doing too well, so I put the work on Mom's house to the side and came home for a while. Lydia improved, and is well into remission. Her ability to diagnose symptoms also improved, and I was no longer able to lay off my various symptoms on stress. So, a series of tests ensued, and I was sitting in my doctor's office looking at pictures of two different kinds of cancers. With luck, successful treatment, and the Grace of  what Powers there be, we should be able to get them far enough down to be operable.

We do get the occasional comment (meant well) such as:
      Aren't you too taking this togetherness thing too far?
      Look, competition is all well and good, but...........

But it is more than a little ironic. Maybe Spider Robinson is right: if somebody who practices gluttony is a glutton, then G-d spends a lot of time being an iron. Just to make things more fun, we've been sharing one of these "cough until your stomach knots up" viral thingie since two days after Christmas. Thought we were getting better, made plans to see the grandchildren this past weekend, and had to cancel for fear of carrying this to any of them.

Courage and Lonliness

For years, I have assumed the bravest classifications of people were atheists and agnostics.

I have not the slightest difficulty in understanding how one can develop a set of ethics and morals, and how one can live by them, without any level of belief in a Higher Being. I know a number of people who have managed this. Where my agreement rises to the level of deep and abiding admiration is their ability to cope with stress and tragedy in a world where they assume they are, to one extent or another, alone.

In my own, admittedly complex, set of religious/ethical/behavioral assumptions and beliefs, there is this reasonably simple underlying assumption:

There is a higher power or force of some sort, whose faith in humanity is so great that we are given free will, yet whose compassion is so great that we are given  the courage to live with the occasionally tragic results our use of that freedom and a measure of solace (and, sometimes, assistance) when our courage fails.

It may not work for everyone, but a faith/belief structure is possibly the only thoroughly personal thing one has. It works for me. I will be happy to stipulate that you believe whatever you tell me you believe, as long as you are willing to accept the my beliefs are (a) probably different in one or more respects, (b) just as valid for me as yours are for you.

An atheist goes through life without that level of backup. This is an exceedingly brave thing. You don't need a G-d image in the back of your head to develop a set of ethical or moral standards, but there is a level of surety I find useful, and, at some infantile level, comforting. In the past few years, I have fallen back on what one of my friends calls "The Big Daddy in the Sky" force more, possibly, than I should have, but I don't think that's a particularly weak coping mechanism. It works for me.

I have spent the better part of four years caring for my mother, a Stage IV cancer patient. Earlier this year, she died. During that same four years, my wife's chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia progressed faster than we thought it was going to, despite multiple chemotherapy treatments with a variety of meds. She is doing well on the latest medications. The joy of this is somewhat leavened by the doctor's lack of specificity to the usual "what happens if this doesn't work?" question. There is also the problem that, like many chemotherapy mixes, it is essential she avoid excess stress. Unfortunately, we have a couple of relatives who delight in doing everything they can to raise her stress levels. The countervailing force that seems to protect Lydia just when the stress approaches critical is her unfailing faith in a benevolent G-d. Her spiritual journey, from a rural Christian Church in N.E. Washington through Unity Church of Christ in various locations, has always been illuminated by an acceptance of the beliefs of others (or, at a minimum, a sincere attempt to understand those beliefs).

My faith is not in Lydia's league, but I would not want to face life without what measure I do possess.