Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Three men

Three men, each with his own cross to bear, each on a different path, one for the world to see and one that God sees, but never a path that would cross with the other two men:

ONE is a musician. A soldier. An educated man. Has served more than two tours of duty in the last 5 years. Is a proud family man and is regarded as such. He is dying. His body is dying. He will likely not make it through the next series of treatment. No matter how ill, you see, this man is living through his death. His wife will stand proudly by him. He will be missed and his family and children will suffer his loss.

TWO is a musician. A trade worker directly affected with the recent economic downturn. He works diligently and respectfully to provide for his family. He nickels and dimes it through the day. He doesn't complain but voices that life is getting to be too much. He is suffering, his family was suffering, and then almost like being caught in the palm of God, he was willingly and supportingly reassured that death would be close if he didn't seek help now. NOW was his time, and he took it. He lived.

THREE is a soldier through and through, a genuine patriot. His body is not dying, but it is badly injured. His mind is worse. He no longer fears death, he beckons it, pleads for it. Two failed but almost complete attempts renders him a failure. He couldn't live well enough, and couldn't get dying right either. His young family that has held him high for so long, questions what good any of it would do anymore. Are they wasting their time? Can they stand to see him put on a brave face, just to get people off his back, but really to just allow enough distance for him to try and end it all again. Will they walk away?

More than anything else I want the cures. I want to heal these men and take away their pain, their fear. I want to banish these ailments and promise that they'll never return again. I want to hold their hands, and feel their pulse and ask them what was the one thing each life was worth living for. I want to hear each of them say that life IS worth living. I want to hear it, know it, feel it and believe it. I want to define it and bottle it.

I long to be the ever-trusting, overflowing cup of peace and redemption, but I'm not. I'm just not. I can't be the one who keeps checking for the pulse.