Surprised by Joy
I was just surprised by joy. In the Walmart checkout line of all places.
I heard someone call my name and when I turned around to look, I saw my good friend. The friend I haven’t seen for almost 9 months. Nine very long months. She was with her husband but keeping her distance from everyone else, secluded in a sea of strangers.
We hadn’t had a falling out or just lost touch. She’d been diagnosed with cancer 9 months ago and her numerous major surgeries and 6 rounds of chemo pretty much had this usually vibrant social butterfly living the life of a hermit, cocooned away from the rest of the world because of her continual dangerously low white blood cell count.
Her condition had gotten so bad this past Winter, her husband shared with me he wasn’t sure if he was going to be planting flowers in their yard this Spring or at her grave site.
She was a wee thing before all this happened, a willow wispy frail soul and she continually battled to gain weight to help shore her up for the next round of whatever came next. She filled me in each time we spoke about how much weight she gained and what her daily regimen was to keep the weight on.
We laughed. We cried. We sang songs and repeated scripture verses. I prayed she wouldn’t lose her hair. She did anyways. So, this usually very fashion-conscious lady bought wigs and hats and vibrant silk scarves. I guess some things never change regardless of how much life does.
I prayed for her continually and called her every other day for almost 9 months. Sometimes she was too sick or tired or both to talk, dozing off as I tried to lift her spirits — to help her feel less alone. I learned her schedule and diet and meds as if they were my own. She talked. I listened, often to the same thing over and over. But I didn’t mind. She was still here. And that was more important than anything else could be.
I learned more about my friend than I ever thought possible. She shared heartaches and sorrows and fears I’d known nothing about. We entered the inner sanctum of her soul and comfortably sat there sometimes without saying a word, leaving for a while only to return again.
She told me I was the only one besides her husband of 60+ years she could complain to about her pain and other not so pleasant side effects she was going through or feeling. To have that place in her life has been an unexpected honor I will always hold tightly to even after she’s gone, that is, if she goes before I do.
I heard someone say recently that we all carry around our own buckets filled with sorrows and difficult life experiences. When we are really present, connect and listen to someone we are allowing them to put down their bucket while we carry it for them a while.
I am glad — no honored — to have carried my friend’s bucket, to have lightened her load if only for just a little while. For these past almost 9 months. I will always be her bucket holder as she would be mine.
Today I was surprised by joy, and it caused me to cry — no weep — as I held tightly to my friend not wanting to let her go. Almost 9 months of sorrow, pain and worry came rolling down my cheeks and somehow turned to unbridled joy.
The kind of deep-down soul joy only God can give.
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6: 2
Jackie Deems 2022