A 25th Reunion (and prayer for B.C.)

Last night was a most special night, a night that I’ll call a time machine kind of night as I went two and a half decades back. The fact that I went to a reunion at all would shock many of those who know me best these days. I don’t think I’ve ever really been the reunion type of girl, whatever that means, but I think I might just be now. I’m so very glad I was there. There’s one principal reason that I feel like I went last night and that reason is to give people a sense of hope when things in this life down here seem anything but hopeful. Though not everyone there knew the story of my sick season, many did know and the fact that I had had cancer and published a book about it last year seemed to quickly spread. And now that all of my classmates and I are approaching our mid-forties, the chances that we’re going to go through some really big something (assuming we haven’t already) are greater than ever. And it’s so very important for all of us to know that there can be life, “real” and most lovely life, on the other side of whatever that big something might turn out to be.

I actually found out last night that one of our classmates, a most precious, spirited classmate, is going through such a thing right now. As I sat and ate my dinner, he came over to me to say good-bye; and as we talked, I heard one of the words that I so hate to hear these days–“chemo.” I dropped my fork and looked at him and said, “Chemo? You have chemo? May I ask what for?” His response made me unable to return to the appetizing bowl of pasta the kitchen had made especially for the only vegetarian in the group. “I have cancer of the kidneys and pancreas,” he said. And I then had to fight the urge to weep for my dear friend. I get so sick of some words, like “chemo” and “cancer.” And in my head other words– words like “Not him, God. No, please not him!”–were being screamed in my head as we sat together.

You see, this particular classmate has already lived a life full of health battles that have no doubt resulted in many other kinds of battles. And this classmate is and always has been so very special to many of us, if not all of us, who went through school with him. Back in the day, he was charismatic, off the scale social, ever the politician, strong-willed/determined (and yes, opinionated), so very smart/clever, funny and entertaining (as in a comic actor), and always thinking of others. I’m confident he’s still all of these things. The expression “great guy” just fits him. And this great guy has, yet again, a major health crisis to push through down here in this life. And I think he needs his classmates to rally around him.

As I sat down to write a blog post about our big event last night, so many things came to mind. A few of them are all the hard work that the women who planned last night put into it. If any of these women happen to read this post, please know that you did an amazing job–thank you! Another thing that came to mind was the sweet, sweet spirit among the people who attended; none of the differences that any of us had with each other way back in the day seemed to be in the air at all last night. It was just so great to be together again and see what we’re now like all grown up (though not really because “growing up” is still a work in progress for all of us I think). Something else that stood out to me was a sense of being truly “carefree,” if only for a few hours on this one memorable night. At this point, we’ve all lived long enough to know how very hard life is and how very much we need to carve out some “carefree” moments that will help us get through all of the other moments that are anything but carefree–like the moment I heard that my beloved classmate now has cancer.

There was another memorable moment last night, the moment when the class officers remembered aloud the few classmates that have already moved on from life down here–there are three of them. As we thought fondly of them, I almost had to leave the room as I fought to not lose my composure. There was a reminding voice in my head saying, “That was almost you, Angie.” And it was. And I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that it wasn’t, and that I’m still here. And I am so burdened for our classmate whom I am asking anybody who reads this blog to pray for right away. I think I know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t mind if I shared his name but I’m still not comfortable doing so. Instead, I am going to share his initials, knowing that anyone who was part of our high school class will probably be able to figure out who he is, assuming you don’t know about his health status already because he is a very open guy. So, this post if for you B.C. before it’s for anyone else down here. You’re dearly loved and you’re being prayed over relentlessly. And please know that all of our lives back in high school were better because you were there–and the world today is better because you are here. So, keep fighting hard and stick around–you’re really wanted and needed. And to the whole class of ’89–thank you for being together last night, and thank you too for lifting B.C. up in prayer to our great God who does always hear us.