"The counterweight to grief is community." - Nashville Mayor Megan Berry
The words above were spoken by Nashville's mayor regarding the horrific massacre in Las Vegas this weekend. They had also been spoken by her husband just weeks earlier at the funeral of their son, as Nashville citizens shared in their loss. How grief attacks, along with fear, is by isolating a person from comfort. By internalizing the pain, rather than have a safe place for their grief to be shared and ministered to, we sorrow alone. With so many things going on in our world, that is just too heavy a burden to bear.
This statement strikes me personally this week. I've just returned from another weekend at Camp Bluebird, a camp for adult cancer survivors. We share sorrow and tears, joy and laughter (much, much laughter), we hug, sing, dance, and generally cavort. The weight of cancer is lifted by the community created. We all share equally each other's burdens. Not because we should, not because we have to. Simply because we love. And our own burdens are lifted in the process. I believe there is no power greater than the power of love, and that the power of love in community of others is unstoppable.
This doesn't eliminate the cancer. It doesn't stop the passing of dear friends, or the sadness of their loss. It does stop the grief and sometimes hopelessness from taking control. It allows us to remain stronger than that which assails us. The freedom to be more than the disease that has bonded us. That joyful release is unlike any other, and it happens because of our community. Camp Bluebird.
I pray for everyone to experience that community of love. I pray that God's church returns to that community of love, rather than the judgmental nature that seems to prevail. I pray for all my beautiful Bluebirds. Prayers and Bluebird Hugs to you all!
Showing posts with label Camp Bluebird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Camp Bluebird. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Friday, July 21, 2017
Fly, Bluebird, Fly
"Spirits high, Bluebird. To the sky, Bluebird. Free, you and me. Lord, I want to be winging free." - Gary Mills
Sometimes, it's tough to be a Bluebird. By that, I'm talking about Camp Bluebird, the adult cancer survivor camp that is held twice a year. These are some great friends, and we share, in its many forms, the unique bond of cancer survivor. For two weekends a year, we ARE the norm, not the ones set aside by the label "cancer". For two weekends a year, we laugh, cry, pray; sometimes all at once. These are friends that go beyond "acquaintance". These are friends that I love to be with, and am proud to be a part of, even if my membership dues of cancer were rather steep. (To me, anyway.)
Today, we have lost a member of our group. I won't give the name, out of respect for the family. She was a sweet, funny, beautiful lady, with a heart so full of love it burst out of her, overflowing. The cancer came back for her, unexpectedly, and took her away. It was quick, and left us with a sudden vacuum where she had filled our lives. But part of being in this group is celebrating when a person is cancer free, and celebrating when they pass on as well.
I know so many who have had cancer, that want to act as if it was never there, and avoid anything that brings it up. I have a co-worker here, who also had colorectal cancer, and she looks away anytime I'm around. The fear of it coming back is for many, I believe, so great that avoidance is the only answer. But cancer will not be avoided, or ignored.
I recently read a devotional talking about cancer in trees. Sometimes, you may see, on a tree trunk, a large ballooned out part, looking like the tree just bulged out at that spot. That, according to botanists, is cancer. It hits a tiny spot, then spreads out in every direction. It looks ugly and deformed. But woodworkers actually love those cancerous spots. Their wood is multi-colored, and swirls, and can be crafted into magnificent works of art.
Don't get me wrong. I don't like cancer. I don't like that it takes lives. I don't like the toll it takes on families, finances, emotions, strength. But God can make good out of anything, if we give it to him. Without cancer, I would have never found such wonderful friends as those from Camp Bluebird. Without cancer, I would have never found my voice as a writer and blogger. Without cancer, I would have never found my voice as a pastor. I would never have had the guts to even try.
In the things we face in our daily lives, sometimes the cancer is all we can see, whether it be disease or stress or hardship or loss. Step back, and know that God is seeing from a different viewpoint. Let His vision guide what you comprehend. That is why He speaks of "peace that PASSES understanding". (Emphasis mine.) Rest in Him, and fly.
Sometimes, it's tough to be a Bluebird. By that, I'm talking about Camp Bluebird, the adult cancer survivor camp that is held twice a year. These are some great friends, and we share, in its many forms, the unique bond of cancer survivor. For two weekends a year, we ARE the norm, not the ones set aside by the label "cancer". For two weekends a year, we laugh, cry, pray; sometimes all at once. These are friends that go beyond "acquaintance". These are friends that I love to be with, and am proud to be a part of, even if my membership dues of cancer were rather steep. (To me, anyway.)
Today, we have lost a member of our group. I won't give the name, out of respect for the family. She was a sweet, funny, beautiful lady, with a heart so full of love it burst out of her, overflowing. The cancer came back for her, unexpectedly, and took her away. It was quick, and left us with a sudden vacuum where she had filled our lives. But part of being in this group is celebrating when a person is cancer free, and celebrating when they pass on as well.
I know so many who have had cancer, that want to act as if it was never there, and avoid anything that brings it up. I have a co-worker here, who also had colorectal cancer, and she looks away anytime I'm around. The fear of it coming back is for many, I believe, so great that avoidance is the only answer. But cancer will not be avoided, or ignored.
I recently read a devotional talking about cancer in trees. Sometimes, you may see, on a tree trunk, a large ballooned out part, looking like the tree just bulged out at that spot. That, according to botanists, is cancer. It hits a tiny spot, then spreads out in every direction. It looks ugly and deformed. But woodworkers actually love those cancerous spots. Their wood is multi-colored, and swirls, and can be crafted into magnificent works of art.
Don't get me wrong. I don't like cancer. I don't like that it takes lives. I don't like the toll it takes on families, finances, emotions, strength. But God can make good out of anything, if we give it to him. Without cancer, I would have never found such wonderful friends as those from Camp Bluebird. Without cancer, I would have never found my voice as a writer and blogger. Without cancer, I would have never found my voice as a pastor. I would never have had the guts to even try.
In the things we face in our daily lives, sometimes the cancer is all we can see, whether it be disease or stress or hardship or loss. Step back, and know that God is seeing from a different viewpoint. Let His vision guide what you comprehend. That is why He speaks of "peace that PASSES understanding". (Emphasis mine.) Rest in Him, and fly.
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