It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
And when your role in the story isn’t what you expected
You might be familiar with this story in the Gospels of Mark and Luke: Jesus is teaching, and people crowd into a house to hear him. More and more people gather until there is no room inside the house or even outside the perimeter. Four friends arrive, bringing a paralyzed man to Jesus—but the density of the crowd means they can’t get near him. Undeterred, the friends climb to the roof and created an opening so that they can lower down their paralyzed friend right in front of Jesus.
That is not the climax of the story—that comes later when the teachers of the law accuse Jesus of blasphemy for forgiving sins, and Jesus responds with what the kids today might call a flex:
“I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the paralyzed man, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” Immediately he stood up in front of them, took what he had been lying on and went home praising God. Everyone was amazed and gave praise to God. They were filled with awe and said, “We have seen remarkable things today.”
I’ve heard this story preached and taught more times than can I count, including a sermon by Joanne Browne Jennings that I still remember a decade later. (Side note: If you ever have the chance to hear her preach, take it!) Often listeners are asked to consider whether they would be a member of the crowd blocking the way to Jesus, a teacher of the law resisting Jesus, or a friend making a way for the loved one to get to Jesus.
I don’t ever recall considering that I might be a different character in the story: the paralyzed friend.
Maybe that’s because you can’t exert much exhortational urgency on this character—you can’t tell him to do anything, because he can’t do anything other than lie there. Or maybe it’s because we don’t often think of ourselves as the character without agency in the story. We think of ourselves as a character who can do or do not, who can will or will not. As readers of this story, we can as easily ignore this character as did the crowd and the teachers of the law.
But his friends don’t ignore him. And Jesus doesn’t ignore him.
I’ve been thinking about this story over the past few weeks. This has been a time when my thoughts are often along the lines of “It has been almost a year since I ______________.” For instance, it has been almost a year since I walked to the beach at the end of my street. It has been almost a year since I was in a grocery store. It has been almost a year since I could take more than a few steps without consciously thinking about how you are supposed to pick up one foot after another.
And I feel like I can identify with that paralyzed man who was just lying there while his friends fought for him, to the point of tearing off the roof. My friends: you are amazing. My church here kept us fed for six months when I wasn’t able to even walk to the kitchen, much less fix food. My church in Durham prays for me at least weekly, even though I haven’t been able to see them in person in over two years. Friends provided rides to appointments and listening ears for me to vent. They supplied dairy-free baked treats and a selection of crystals. They sent notes and cards and bought yellow shoes. They were supportive at work and cheered for me at the gym. They helped me to get a couch so I could sit comfortably next to Dave again. They sent music and book and TV recommendations as well as adorable and hilarious photos of their pets. This is by no means a fully itemized list—I could go on and on recounting the ways I’ve been supported and loved.
Recently The Atlantic published a conversation between Margaret Atwood and Jennifer Senior in response to a piece by Senior on friendship. The article explores the dynamics of friendship over time, and this exchange between Atwood and Senior jumped out at me:
Senior: One of the most popular replies on Twitter to my piece—in addition to yours!—was a woman who said that after she was diagnosed with metastatic cancer, her closest friend just … vanished. And how very hurtful that was. To which many cancer survivors or people living with cancer said, more or less, “This is much more common than you think.”
Atwood: I think it’s more common in a younger generation. People are afraid of it.Senior: Ah. That makes sense. I don’t know how old this person was.
Atwood: I’m going to tell you a slightly long but interesting story: This young German artist turns up one day, and he has a project that he wants me to do. He’s going around the world, talking to writers and taking them into cemeteries of their choice and photographing them. And then he wants to interview them for a radio show about death.
Senior: Wow.
Atwood: So we get the photograph done; we have the interview. And then he tells me that the people who agree to do this are quite young people and people over the age of 55. But in between, they didn’t want to do it. And why is that? Because in the middle of your life, that’s when you’re likely to have young children and also be in the middle of your career. You don’t want to think about death.
Senior: Right.
Atwood: So that middle generation—somebody’s got cancer and it’s We don’t want to deal with this. But later on, somebody’s got cancer: This has happened to you before. You know. You’ve seen your parents die. You’ve seen people in your generation die. You’re not afraid of it in the same way. And you order the flowers and send the notes.
To my dear friends who have stuck by someone diagnosed with metastatic cancer in this middle generation—thank you for dealing with this. Thank you for sticking around. Thank you for ordering the flowers, sending the notes. Thank you for drawing closer instead of vanishing. Thank you, friends, for every bit of roof that you’ve helped to tear off.
To return to the story in the Gospels, Jesus heals the paralyzed man as a demonstration of his power to forgive sins. The response from the man and the people gathered is to praise God for the amazing work. So while I am filled with gratitude for friends who have carried me, I don’t want to miss the opportunity to overflow with praise to God for the ability to get out of my chair and walk. I continue to pray for more healing—I wouldn’t mind the “walking and jumping and praising God” described in Acts 3:8, especially if that was accompanied with a “no evidence of disease” cancer update! But there’s praise to give now, and if you see me walking about, feel free to be amazed and praise God with me.
Treatment Update
It’s been an eventful few weeks—just not in the way we expected. I had hoped to share an update sooner, but I’ve spent so much time on the phone and in appointments that it’s taken me longer than usual to get this update ready. Thanks to all of you who have asked me update questions; here are the answers to date.
Q: How is your white count? Were you able to get your treatment?
A: Neutrophils rebounded! I was able to get my targeted therapy treatment, along with my bone-strengthening infusion. Hurrah!
Q: Did you get your scan results yet?
A: Yes and no—I have my scan … but I don’t have my results. How can this be? Wonderful Dr Eeyore had already requested copies of my medical records to be sent to me, and my radiology disk arrived. It has my latest scan on it—but I have no idea how to interpret such a thing. And no one has contacted me from Ninewells about my results yet.
Q: Do you have a new oncologist now?
A: Nope. I will spare you, dear reader, from the full version of this saga to which some of my friends have been subjected. The short version is that I’ve been told I will have a clinic appointment in March, and I will be seen by someone, and I probably won’t get scan results before then. If you think it’s not great to make a metastatic cancer patient wait over six weeks to get her scan results, well, I will not argue with you. If you think this does not reflect continuity of care or confidence that a responsibility for care has been established, I will not argue with you. If you think there’s more to this story, both at Ninewells and for me, I will not argue with you.
Q: Are you walking around like normal now?
A: Not quite. Most days I’m able to walk for short distances fairly well. I still have flare-ups of wobbliness and balance issues, and I have days when even walking a short distance requires me to focus intently on how the process works to put one foot in front of the other. My physiotherapist, David, continues to push me toward making more progress, and at my last rehab appointment the owner, Stuart, declared that I was a “superstar”—and then said a bunch of other stuff that I couldn’t understand because my ears cannot process his Scottish accent very well but I’m sure it was probably mostly positive?!
Bonus Joy Nugget
The Worldwide Yellow Shoes Club* has a new member in Germany—my friend Irene, who I met in Tuebingen and who has a gift for befriending international residents who can barely speak a decent sentence of German and for staying in touch with those international friends for years after they move away.
*Not an official club. Membership open to all. Yellow shoes appreciated by not required. Members agree to be identified as wonderful people that I love and value.
Heather we always enjoy reading your updates and thank you for sharing your heart. We are praying about a new doctor and for continued improvement each day. Many, many in church are praying and ask about you all the time. We love you and Gods blessing on you all. 💕 Mom M.
So thankful you were able to get your targeted therapy; continuing to pray for you to make progress with therapy and for a speedier process in getting a new oncologist and those scan results! ❤️ 🙏🏻