Just Come

🎶 Come, they told me, pa rum pum pum pum 🎶

I’m not sure what’s in it for me.  I keep asking myself what my expectations are.  I keep searching my own intentions.  There’s a time investment.  There’s a financial cost.  But there is ZERO obligation.  And yet I keep coming.  The vortex of need is overwhelming—beyond what I could possibly make a dent in.  I’m not naĂŻve enough to think I’m taking on the role of superhero or white savior.  In fact, I feel pretty small and ill-equipped. 

And yet, every time I come, my heart is full.  Not because I solve big problems.  Sometimes when I show up, I can’t even solve the smallest of problems.  

🎶 O Come all Ye Faithful, Joyful and Triumphant 🎶

The interactions with this sweet neighbor and her family resettled in my community have changed something in me.  The gift is mine.

There are other faithful people who come.  If I didn’t show up and attempt to meet any of their needs, they would figure it out a different way.  They are survivors.  They survived and thrived and moved forward long before I knew this beautiful family.

🎶 Joy to the World, the Lord is Come 🎶

Last week I took the 14 year old daughter of my sweet neighbor to the doctor for a well-visit.  She rallied for her own appointment. I taught her how to fill out medical forms.  I showed her where her mom would need to sign so she could legally manage her own healthcare.  It’s not that her mom wouldn’t love to come, caring for her precious daughter.  It’s just that as a single mom of 10 kids, working fulltime at the meatpacking plant while studying English at night, there’s just not enough time in her days to navigate a well visit for child #5.  

$23.19.  That’s the price for two over-the-counter medications and a prescription of Vitamin D not covered by Medicaid.  I plotted ahead on our way to the pharmacy.  I was ready to be a joyful giver.  $23.19—paid, gladly.  We sat together on a bench at the back of Walgreens, and I taught my young friend the difference between prescription drugs and over the counter ones. 

🎶 O Come Let Us Adore Him 🎶

Dropping my friend off at her house, after quizzing her repeatedly on how to take her new meds, my heart was full—again.  She thanked me for spending my own money.  Her gratitude was an unexpected bonus.  As we said goodbye, I told her that many have helped me in my life, even with medication.  Maybe someday she’ll have the opportunity to help someone else pay for their medication.  Freely I have received abundantly from kindnesses I could never repay.  And in that moment, I was grateful for an opportunity to freely give. 

I came home from that event scrambling to answer a call from my Specialty Pharmacy about a recent delivery of my leukemia medication—the super expensive immunotherapy drug that I take every day, for ever.  The operator politely informed me, “You have an outstanding balance of $5668.64, would you like to go ahead and pay that now…?”  

What!? NO!!  I can’t pay that now, or ever, really.

I hung up the phone with a deep sigh and flopped on the couch.  

Sunlight and quiet beckoned me to be still.

I came for just a moment—empty-handed and wholehearted—into the presence of Divinity.  And something shifted in my soul.

I came reviewing the vulnerable places I had just been with my 14-year-old friend.  I came with the satisfaction of having paid her pharmacy bill in full—all 23 dollars and 19 cents of it.  I came offering up my own fear and outstanding pharmacy bill.

I came not knowing.

🎶 O Come O Come Emmanuel 🎶

Christmas is about coming. O come Emmanuel.  God be with us!  Joy is that the promised Messiah is come.

That’s Jesus.

O Come, Desire Of The Nations, Bind
In One The Hearts Of All Mankind;
Bid Every Strife And Quarrel Cease
And Fill The World With Heaven’s Peace
.

Jesus came to restore peace on earth, but he showed up first as a newborn—the epitome of defenseless, vulnerable, and needy.

His first invitation was to come and allow others to care and adore Him.

I have come so many times, vulnerable and weak.

So when a 14 year old vulnerably entrusts me to come into her need for medical care, I feel summoned to privilege.  The gift of presence—her presence with me.  The joy of seeing someone’s humble self and meeting them in that place.  Sharing a holy space.

The invitation of Christmas is to just come.

Come needy.

Come heavy.

Come weak.

Come ready.

Come all you faithful.

Come with hands full, ready to give.

Come with hands empty, ready to receive.

Come along with Him.

Come back.

Come over and just be.

Come in need of $23 or $6000.

Come with your whole self.

Even if you have nothing to bring that’s fit to give a King, just come.

CHRONIC HOPE #2: Learning to be healthy and have cancer

“Wow!  You look great. Did you lose weight?”

In my late 20s and newly married, I enjoyed the positive feedback on an otherwise bleak situation. I joked to myself, Yeah, it’s this great new plan… the CANCER DIET.  But in real life, I awkwardly responded, “Thanks,” with no explanation of the dark secret to my weight loss success.

Then there were the people who knew I had recently been diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia (CML). They said things differently.

“Awww, you look really good,” which was accompanied by a sympathetic head tilt and a hint of relief. They were glad I wasn’t bald, pale, and gaunt like the poster child for the Leukemia Society.

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I felt overwhelmed by these new life circumstances out of my control.  I needed to manage something.  This was stirring in me a passion for healthy living.

But, what is healthy?

Before my diagnosis, healthy meant the opposite sick.  After my diagnosis, healthy meant giving my body its best chance to thrive in the given circumstances.

Healthy meant being a wise manager of things I COULD control.

Healthy also meant not over-worrying about the things I couldn’t control.

I couldn’t control leukemia. And I didn’t know how to manage the overwhelming feelings of fear, loss, and dying dreams.

If chronic leukemia was my new normal, I needed effective survival skills.  I needed to nurture hope and figure out healthy ways to interact with chronically present negative emotions.

With cancer come toxicities.  

Toxicities that wear on the body accompany even the best cancer treatments.  Also in the shadows of effective cancer treatments looms the real threat of financial toxicity.

Healthy meant identifying and eliminating unnecessary toxicities while learning to live with the necessary ones.

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I couldn’t control the toxicities of my treatments, but I could help my body be strong enough to handle them as best it could.  I rested more.  I ate less sugar.  I tried to stay active even when I felt fatigued or depressed.

I learned to sort my worries.

Author Amber Rae, in her book, Choose Wonder Over Worry: Move Beyond Fear and Doubt to Unlock your Full Potential, says that not all worry is bad.  We need to get rid of toxic worries so we can more clearly address healthy worries.

Devastating life challenges can be toxic on a marriage.  Or, they can make a marriage stronger.  The guilt of being a burden to my new husband was toxic.  But I couldn’t eliminate it on my own.

My husband chose to share my burden and join in my sorrow.  He waded through bills, unsolicited advice, and on hold with the doctor’s office.  He always referred to our diagnosis.  He took seriously his role of tenderly caring for his wife.

Together we learned to weed out toxic worry and trust God with each specific life challenge out of our control.

Rae describes healthy worry as a complement to wonder,  “If worry is the fear of what could go wrong, wonder is the curiosity of the unknown.”

I was far from nurturing curiosity.  But I could take baby steps towards healthy.  I felt empowered by healthy eating habits and an exercise routine.

For my husband and I, healthy meant being in the best spiritual, physical, and state of mind we could be to thrive through the toxicities we couldn’t control.  Healthy meant taking on our new life challenges… together.fullsizeoutput_2ec1This article was published as the second in a series of articles for the Yemeni American News, June, 2019:

Georgia Coats is a Language & Culture Learning Coach, freelance writer, educator, wife, and mother of three who is passionate about healthy mind-body-spirit living.  Chronic Hope is Georgia’s collection of stories, lessons, and life adventures of living alongside chronic leukemia, cancer of the white blood cells, for two decades.  She often shares what’s on her mind at: www.onmymindbygeorgia.wordpress.com