Courage

I've been thinking about the concept of courage a lot in recent days. Last week, another medical-related experience required me to dig deep into my well-spring of courage, gather it up and inhale its breath into me. I embarked upon a test that could either yield helpful knowledge or push me into another potentially dangerous situation. In the end, all went pretty smoothly, but the echo of travelling down those long halls within-- the ones with a thousand doors I don't enter, remains with me.  Life consistently brings new opportunities not to test the existence of one's strength, but to remind of its constant presence.

In recent months, there have been times with the distance between my life and my health seemed so infinite that I wondered if it were even possible to traverse it. But, often our most worthy travels begin without the knowledge of how or if we will reach our destination and with only the willingness to take one step forward at a time-- just one step and then, the next and the next. For the first time in a long time, I have allowed-- and needed-- other people to help me. Only being cast into utter vulnerability would allow me to receive what I now realize are huge gifts.

When I was three years old, my preschool teacher sent a note home to my parents stating that they didn't know what to do with me (if only they had known they were merely at the start of a very long line of people who would feel that way...). Apparently, instead of doing whatever I was supposed to be doing, I would go around teaching and mothering the other children. It seemed like a better use of my time than doing something stupid like taking a nap.  Even when I was sick as a teenager, I devoted my time to helping other people, to running support groups for people with chronic illnesses, to teaching people what I had learned about how to heal. With the exception of the help of my mother, whose ability to give selflessly is infinitely greater than anyone I have ever known,  I haven't always allowed others to help me as much as I have needed.

But when I got very sick very unexpectedly at the end of last summer, I suddenly needed more help than before. And, my friends stepped up to the plate without missing a beat. Some who lived close to me did things like go to the grocery store for me when I was unable or have helped me with my home in other ways, like getting my mail when I haven't been there. Those who lived far offered to help me find information about my condition, to find doctors, to connect me with others who have experienced similiar ailments. Many people offered their good thoughts and prayers. Some have been my ever-present cheerleaders. Others consistently have reminded that out of sight isn't always out of mind, a huge gift to me that has allowed me to feel connected to a home and group of friends I haven't seen in person in over six too long months.

During a particularly dark time at the end of January before I had been given a concrete diagnosis that made sense, a friend sent me one word, literally: courage. On a single piece of paper was written the word-- beautifully. It had been passed on to her and then, was passed on to me. I look forward to the day when I can pass it along to whomever I cross paths with who will need it more than I do at the time, but for now I keep it close at hand and remember that true courage is not only knowing how to be strong and to endure, sometimes, it is allowing others to be strong for you.