"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked. "My Rabbi," "the blind man said, "I want to see!" Mark 10:51
When my father was diagnosed with Cancer he asked only one thing..... that I give him 24 hours. Not so that he could process the diagnosis, but so I could. At first I assumed this had more to do with my heightened emotional state after hearing the news, but later I realized that Dad just needed me to have time to process, and collect myself, so I could meet him where he was. And where he was, was okay.
Of course, no one wants to hear the word Cancer. No one wants to embark on the journey required to fight this disease. And no one wants to put the people they love on this journey with them. But that's where we were; as a family, beginning a journey. And that journey would be tough. In that first 24 hours, we cried separately, prayed separately, screamed separately, and gathered our strength for the road ahead.
Compassion is a funny thing. It has many faces. Compassion, at the very least, can relate to others in their pain or their loss. But when compassion is at its best, it not only relates, it finds a way to fight for others. That's when compassion takes on a voice.
During my Father's cancer battle I struggled to find my voice. I felt like I should be "helping", "making a difference", "doing something, anything"! But mostly what I felt was helpless. Helpless is a word most of us can relate too when it comes to the battle against Cancer.
But as God would have it, there was a purpose to my struggle. As I struggled, and asked God for clarity. God, in his perfect timing, left me lost and searching for answers. Like the blind man, I wanted to see what Dad saw so I could understand. And as I fought to see what Dad saw, God fought to show me what He wanted me to see.
I could never understand how Dad felt, because I'd never fought his battle. I'd never understand how Mom felt, because Dad was the love of her life, her partner, and her best friend. I'd never understand the pain of their battle, or the sting of their crushed dreams. I would never really "see" things from their perspective. But that is the beauty of compassion. When we don't get it, when we don't understand, we can still fight to find a voice, to do our best to make sure the next person never has to hurt like we hurt.
In my blindness, I finally saw what God wanted me to see. While I was so busy feeling helpless, voiceless, and inadequate in the battle for Dad's life, I was missing the point. Dad didn't need me to be like him or feel like him in order to help, he needed me to be me. The gifts God gave me; my sense of humor, my care and compassion, and my strength, was what my father needed from me.
In our journey along side family members or friends fighting a disease, God doesn't want us "get it". He wants us to be the person he created us to be. And that is exactly what the Coker family is doing to battle alongside their loved one, Marc Stringer.
I've known the Coker family since I was a kid in school. Or maybe I should say, since before Misty and Jay were a family of their own. We were all just kids. Kids with dreams, hopes, and a future. We didn't ask for the families we were born into, or the factors that melded us into the adults we are today. And today, we're still those same kids on the inside, just 40+ years later. Hearts full of hope, lives full of promise, and faithfully trusting that it will all work out as God has planned.
Recently their sweet family embarked on a journey. A journey similar to mine. A journey where all of them had to meet where Marc was. A journey of faith. A journey with many unknowns. And their family, like mine, is full of compassion for Marc as well as others fighting this battle. It's the kind of compassion I mentioned earlier that says, I don't want anyone else to ever have to feel the way I felt; lost, confused, hurt, and sometimes alone in my own pain.
And in true Coker fashion, they've compiled an army of hearts who "understand" their passion and feel that same "compassion for this battle". It's an army that I'm proud to belong to, and one that will accomplish far more as a "family of fighters" than any one of us could ever do alone.
In March of 2018 the Coker / Stringer families and friends are uniting for families embarking on that "blind journey of faith". The first annual "Endure the Dirt Adventure Race" fundraiser is set to fund the information packet that hopes to motivate, encourage, and educate Cancer patients and their families who are beginning this same journey. Together we'll raise our voices in harmony, in honor of Marc, but also to honor the many other families like mine, and like the Coker's, who find themselves "blind" looking for a glimmer of light on a long road.
For more information about the race please log on to https://www.personalpeprally.org/endure-the-dirt
OR
To sign up for the race, please log on to https://runsignup.com/Race/AR/Stuttgart/MudRun
#gameon #endurethedirt
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