It’s 11:xx PM on Saturday evening, and in 9-some hours I’m running another marrow drive at my home church. The hope this time is to speak to some of the college kids who are back for the holiday.
I’ve been in this position before. Music playing quietly from my speakers, reclining in my chair and looking at the ceiling, trying to determine exactly what the appropriate message is for the audience I’ll be speaking to. Not that I have a huge amount of time to speak — I’m guessing 5 minutes — but I’ve come to learn that 5 minutes isn’t a short amount of time, either. It’s enough time for one emotion. But what emotion should it be?
Eventually the words will come, I’ll play with them a bit and I’ll go to sleep semi-ready for tomorrow. I’ll look over the words a couple times tomorrow morning and then service will come and I’ll do my thing.
I wonder where those words come from. It’s not as if I have some overarching speaking strategy when it comes to specific demographics. But I do know what I say tomorrow to the college kids won’t be the same as what I said to the adults a couple months ago. I have a feeling, from somewhere, for some reason, that the message for the adults is not the one that the college kids need to hear. They need to hear something different.
I’m not sure why I feel that way, but the feeling is very real.
Cancer fucking sucks. About two years ago I lost my mom to this teewchrd, horrible disease, and while I can’t begin to understand the thoughts that are undoubtedly racing through your head, I do know the utter confusion and sadness and fear that comes with hearing that someone you love has cancer. I just want you to know that I think you’re incredibly brave and incredibly strong. You will beat this. You will beat this and you will be that much stronger and wiser because of it.