“Ya’ can’t let cancer ruin your day,” says James Birrell, an eight year old who recently died from a neuroblastoma. I’ve had the privilege to share part of the journey to death with another family whose daughter also died from this kind of brain cancer. Here’s what people have said about James’ journey of joy in pain. http://www.greentrainbooks.com/index.html
“Life isn’t fair or unfair; it’s just life. Each of us has the chance to make the most of it. James Birrell, as young as he was, understood that in his bones. Each day he looked past his cancer and saw another opportunity for adventure. That was his gift to his family and friends. He inspired them. An they helped him share the gift of inspiration with the world.” Peterborough Examiner
“In a telephone interview, James says that when it comes to dealing with illness and the pain the treatments cause, you have a choice: yes or no – do you want to fight the cancer, or do you want to let it beat you. ‘I always pick yes,’ he says with a chirpy voice.” The Haliburton County Echo
“What makes the Birrell family so intriguing and inspiring is that everyone knows that each day could be the last for their life together. They take the time to treasure sharing, creating memories, seizing the beauty and laughter of a day.” The Morning Star
For all of us, life is a journey and we can expect to suffer. Once we accept that, we can look at our choices differently. Like James, and my little friend Faith, we truly can still savor moments of sweetness, request to do something fun, share a good book, play a game, worship God, and enjoy a laugh.
Because my sister was nearly killed in an accident when I was 10, I used to wrestle with a consuming anxiety almost every day that something really bad would happen and someone I loved would be taken from me. About twelve years ago, I got that middle-of-the-night call that someone I loved very much had been killed in an accident. I sometimes still relive that painful moment, and any time the phone rings in the wee hours of the morning, my stomach hits the floor. However, walking through the grieving process within myself and with my friend’s wife and mother was life-changing for me. The testimony to God’s goodness, restoration, and available love poured out to those in need has made me realize that no matter what we are suffering, God does not forget us! He cares about our pain, and He invites us to find life in Him.
I keep thinking of James of who didn’t let cancer ruin his day. He just chose to say yes to whatever was right in front of him that was good. Dwelling on the future?… not helpful. Living in the past?…. not beneficial either. Sharing love, choosing life, and living this day is all we really have. Let’s do it!
Filed under: Christianity, Religion, relationships/ psychology | 1 Comment
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It just hit me, as I was reading about your reaction when Anna was hit by a car, that I have never even asked the question of how it affected you. Even as I think to, I’m overwhelmed by my own experience. I saw it happen, though my own perception was immediately reconstructed. We were waiting in the car across from your piano teacher’s house. We got tired of waiting, and decided to go inside. I crossed the street, checked for cars, and then told Anna to cross. I remember seeing the car fly past and hearing the WHAM! sound about a tenth of a second later as the sound reflected off the house across the street and finally made it back to where I was standing. As I walked the 100 or so feet to where she lay, I remember not understanding how she got from where she had been standing to where she was now lying. To me, though, nothing else looked obviously out of place. My mind was furiously editing out the blood, the smashed plastic-frame glasses, all the things that I wasn’t willing to see.
I told her to get up, thinking that if she didn’t she might get run over by a car. The irony was lost on me. I went back to Mrs. Smith’s house and complained to mom that Anna was lying down in the street and won’t get up. She had to have been playing a game, but I knew that something wasn’t right. Mom came to the door, saw what I couldn’t see, and ran to Anna shouting, “Oh, my baby, my baby!”
My next memory was playing with a toy car at a nearby house.
Years later, my junior or senior year at Baylor, I woke up from a dream. In my sleep, I had grabbed Janet by the arm (leaving five finger-shaped bruises) and was screaming at her, “GET UP!! GET UP!! GET UP!!”. Once I came fully awake, I knew that I had relived the experience in my dream, but without the distorted perception. I still don’t have conscious access to the true memories, only the false ones.
Sometime, when you are up to it, I would like to hear it from your perspective.