…Until You Know It
Would you like to know the future? I mean, if a genie
granted you the wish to see your timeline on this earth, would you take it?
We live on hope. Hope is an even more important fuel than
food.
You never know. Anything can happen. You could win the
lottery. Or sell a book to a great publisher. The book could become a bestseller. The book could change the world, the way Uncle Tom’s Cabin did. The world could become a much better place.
Or you could win the lottery. I know, I said that already, but I felt like
repeating it just in case a genie was listening. You never know.
You can toil and try and do, and never publish again.
Or publish something that will unleash venom in some unstable person. Unstable
person would purposely run you over with their car, and you could lose a limb,
or more. A loved one could be in an accident, or get sick, or— I don't want to
go there.
Helping a friend with metastatic cancer has brought this
point home for me. A friend who never smoked and took good care of himself is wracked
with lung cancer. You never know.
I know cancer survivors who told me that, while they
wouldn’t wish it on anyone, they now appreciate every moment. If only they had known what they now know they would have been in this state before, and without the
cancer, thank you very much.
The one thing certain is that everyone will die. To
quote the guy who helped me change a tire on the freeway long ago, “Ain’t none of us getting’ out of this here
thing alive.” But then he added, “While
we’re here we got to help each other.”
People of faith have even more, because hope goes
beyond the boundaries of this world. But the mystery about what is next, in
this world or the next, is the one thing certain.
11 comments:
There are a lot of things that I accept I'm just not supposed to know. At least not now. I tend to live with the understanding that things happen for a reason, even if I can't see what that reason is.
Taking the question mark out of tomorrow would be like nixing the salt in my soup. Bland. The lottery would be nice though. Sorry about your friend. Cancer has little rhyme or reason just a big old fat 'why'.
Lovely post, Mirka. In the Litany of the Holy Spirit, we pray to be given only the necessary knowledge. That always strikes me as a good thing. Be at peace, my friend.
This is beautiful, Mirka. I am so sorry for the pain that you and your friend are experiencing because of the cancer. I would not want to know the future, because I think that whatever it holds, it will only be understood through actually experiencing it. I know that things happen for a reason, but often I don't know those reasons until much later (if ever). That is part of life, and hope is essential to living. I really like your tire-changing friend's quote--I will have to remember that one.
I've always thought I'd like to be able to see ahead into the future, possibly in hopes that I could make changes to encourage the good things to happen sooner, and prevent the bad things from happening at all, I suppose. My very random heart attack at 47 certainly made me begin living each day as if it might be my last (but I still get grouchy:)
Added with sadness that our friend died this morning. We were privileged to be of help for the last month of his life. His memory is blessed.
Hugs, sweet Mirka. I'm very sorry about your friend. No, I wouldn't want to know what lies ahead. I trust God's wisdom in choosing just how much we can handle.
I am glad you were able to be with him Mirka.
Sending you lots of love.
Sorry to hear of your friend's death, Mirka, but I'm glad you were able to help him in his last days. Praying for you.
I am so sorry for your loss, Mirka. Loving others through their last days is one of life's deepest blessings, but is also extremely painful. Prayers for peace are coming your way.
I wouldn't want to know the future AT ALL. I get enough insight through dreams and meditation and my own sense of how things will go for myself and my loved ones to suit me just fine. So sorry about your friend. I lost my sister to cancer last year and she too was one of the healthiest people I know. It happened mercifully fast to reduce her pain and suffering but it is still hard to say goodbye and some days I can hardly believe she's gone.
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