If our son and grandson would have been here for Easter I most likely would have been writing about the Easter bunny, about an exciting Easter egg hunt and what not. But they weren't. So instead I am going to draw some parallels to Good Friday and having cancer or any other major crisis in one's life for that matter.
Good Friday is the day on which Christ dies a horrible death on the Cross, for our benefit, our salvation. What I draw from this, other than the obvious religious connotation, is that I am still here because other previous patients are not. In a way I owe them my life precisely because they died and some lessons were gained from their death: from good to better and better practices, more sophisticated treatments, equipment, etc. I owe them, big time! I realize that full well!
Christ had an entourage of disciples around him even at the time of his death. They felt helpless, possibly even hopeless and defeated and were literally scared to death. They thought that the same fate would fall upon them. I have mostly my husband as my entourage. He feels helpless and suffers along with me. Often times the support crew also needs help in dealing with the crisis, a fact that sometimes gets overlooked. As a mother I can't imagine the agony Mother Mary must have gone through.
But in addition, the whole point of Jesus' crucifixion was that He would rise from the death and give us hope! His Death and His Resurrection: the two are inseparable. One does not make sense without the other.
And so I have a story about a Resurrection if you will, to which I believe to have been a reluctant witness. It is a deeply personal story. It is as personal as it is going to get...
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