Thursday, January 27, 2011

Dear God what am I feeling? The story of Zondra continues....

The night before breast cancer surgery plays games with assumption when you’ve never been part of a circle of love.

Zondra’s mother races around the church to make sure there’s enough chairs available for guests offering their warmth and compassion. She speaks in quick overtones about how she wishes her daughter of 31 would talk more about resting rather than running back to work or getting back involved with the church, “She needs to understand the doctor wants six weeks of rest. I don’t understand how we’re going to get her to slow down.”

School teachers begin to arrive one by one followed by principals and other community involved leaders; there are hugs, questions filled with fear and yet no one has let go of hope and faith.

Maybe because we know Zondra wouldn’t want it that way. An extremely positive outlook not only on the present but how such a stumble through life can be turned into a tool to help educate people she’ll never meet.

One such person, the friend of a friend who through chance or fate crossed paths with Zondra; she’s a breast cancer survivor. She talks of the surgery openly, no fear, no embarrassment, a constant, “Praise God and thank you God,” comes from nearly every paragraph. She begins to laugh when she speaks of the medicines that have helped her calling shopping in thrift stores the greatest pill there is.

The closer we move toward 7:30 the room becomes flooded with guests not expected; Zondra’s eyes become wide as love slips into the corners of a soul that has only questioned during times when chemo nearly had her too weak to lift that unforgettable smile.

Her minister speaks out, “You can’t stop Zondra! Sickness couldn’t keep her away. She would lie down on the sofa outside this room and ask me to keep the door open so the message could find her heart.”

Her mother locates the courage to stand before the collection of open palms and hearts, "I found out about Zondra's cancer through a note she left on the back of a Walmart reciept." Which made each of us wonder about our own stories and what if's? Where would the strength come from to be able to inform those I love if changes came with a face called there's a chance?

Back at work, a charter school set in the center of downtown fellow teachers have lined up at the board on the wall selecting times available to pick up Zondra’s children, to make sure dinner has been prepared and to do whatever else is required to make sure her life carries with it no worries and in Zondra’s case no reason to break the doctors six week resting rule.

I’ll never forget watching Zondra’s mother during a time of open prayer; she shook uncontrollably, fists clinched, face buried in the shoulder of the one God chose to lead the ministry. Whispering words I’ll never know, she found peace allowing the birth of new beginnings to blossom rather than giving permission to anger to paint pictures in places they weren't welcome.

I didn’t sleep last night knowing Zondra didn’t either. Six in the morning would arrive too quickly and the world of medicine was prepared to help lift the shadow off Zondra’s cloudy day.

10:52 am is where I stand at the present moment and no word has arrived. Life isn’t a DSL connection to the internet nor can the art of healing be sent through a UPS overnight package.

Hope and faith…

No comments:

Post a Comment