powerless

listening to: The Struggle, Tenth Avenue North's newest album.

'Bout a month ago, my dad's sister was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Since Mom-mom passed, Aunt Debbie's been the matriarch of Dad's clan. Oh, and did I mention she lives five states away? So when we got the news, we couldn't even hop in the car and go see her. This is the woman whose laugh sounds just like Mom-mom's and shares my dad's smile. I only see her every two years or so, but somehow I still feel close to her. At family gatherings, when Aunt Debbie called in, I was the only kid who got the chance to talk with her. She's one of those people who just lights up a room, much like Dad and Mom-mom.
And now she's going through chemo, with just my uncle and two cousins to comfort her. I mean, they're her immediate family, but we're the extended portion---and seeing my father hide his fear for Aunt Debbie is such a struggle.

 

We were watching Doctor Who; me, Owen, and Mom. The phone rang, so Mom answered. She says hello to the other line, then goes quiet. With the show paused, I glance at Mom. Her face is rather pale, and her mouth is open, in a literal 'O.' It's her sister, Deborah---calling to say the doctor's have found cancer. She goes to the oncologist tomorrow, where she'll learn more. For an hour, Mom alternates between laughing and crying as she takes in what's happening to her older sister. I'm just in disbelief, and a flash of what life would be like without my crazy, hoarse-voiced aunt goes through my mind. Cursing my sick imagination, I push the thought away. Mom hangs up and starts sobbing. I hug her tight, wishing with all my heart I could do something to make her feel better.

I'm powerless to heal my two aunts of their cancer. I'm powerless to hug the sickness right out of them. I'm powerless to ensure they both believe that Jesus died for them. I'm powerless to keep my parents from crying in the middle of the night, when we kids can't hear. I'm powerless to make the potential sadness stay away. All I can do is watch my mom and dad suffer through the next few months, along with my aunts.

And that's what scares me most: my loved ones suffering.

I've got my Lord to comfort me; I can handle just about anything. But not knowing if my afflicted family and friends are turning to Him in their pain/grief breaks my heart. If I could, I'd honestly take their sadness in to my own heart and pray for strength to bear it. But yeah, that's kind of impossible.

I'm powerless. And it isn't a good feeling.