March 2012 – Because Love Wins

I never wanted to be diagnosed with cancer. But, in some ways, I did. For in doing so – in facing life and death – I was changed. Not the kind of change that a person can choose on their own. But the kind of change where one’s heart is ripped away from everything that keeps them from seeing that everything here, will be gone. That in fact, it’s already dying now.

Cancer made the trees greener, the sky bluer, the hearts I meet more breakable and fallible, and forgivable. Cancer made me give thanks. Not for one thing, or for food to eat, but to kneel and beg in Thanksgiving for each moment. Cancer taught me that I lived to teach everyone else that their anger, fear, need to be accepted, dreams of great fortune, or pride, mean nothing. Literally nothing. I live to teach by my existing, that love wins. That love matters. And that afterall, because we are all dying, it’s all that ever has, and ever will.

Realize. You will die someday. Love everyone like they are dying.

And live like you are too. Because you are. And they need you to care. Be kind. Change lives. Let the grass be green. Smile. Let go of the anger like it matters. Hold onto the only thing that does.

With every atom of you, appreciate that you breathe.

Jesus is showing you love. Just let Him open your eyes.

…because love wins.

I know we know.
Because I know we’ve all been close.
If you haven’t, thank God.
A heart in tact if only for another day.
People who stand when they know this.
They aren’t strong.
They’ve just been so weak,
that they know they have,
nothing left, but
still have to walk.
But everyone dies.
And some die at 1.
2.
12.
16.
17.
82.
And it’s always too soon.
For everyone who waits.
For everyone that lets another go.
For every mom who observes
a birthday where a celebration ought to be.
For every sister and brother
who play hide and seek
with one less best friend.
For every father who
tries to hold the tears
but can’t hold anyone
tight enough to make
the pain go away.
So we all know that
everyone dies.
And still,
it takes deeper breaths
than we have ever breathed
and bigger tears
than we have ever cried
to stand up
and take another step.
It’s not going to be okay
in a day,
just because we know it’ll all
be okay.
But it will be.
You know that.
I know that.
We don’t have a thing to say.
Just a hug,
a tissue,
and a set of eyes that
say,
“Sooner or later,
I swear, we’re gonna
make it.”