Life and Light, and That Other Stuff, Too

Ya know, just when you think you have a handle on the situation, just when you're sure the light is really shining, just when you think you've figured out a little tiny microscopic part of the universe that you live in...
You find out you know nothing.
NOTHING, I tell you!
At least that's true for me.
As I said in my last blog, the nest is well and truly empty. Child number four took her wings, packed them up in her Honda and unpacked them in her dorm room at FSU.
I cried some. I mourned some. I grieved some.
Then she and I went to see good friends in St. Augustine for the weekend and I realized that she's mighty happy with her new life and that she'll always want to do things with me and she still loves home too. So if I'm worried about her, I'm seriously crazy and it is really and truly time for me to enjoy the fruits of my labor and understand that my life can go on, can get bigger and that good times are to be had. Hell, GREAT times are to be had.
The husband and I are enjoying the new freedom of home. So far this has meant nothing very wild. Mostly that if he needs to go see why the dog is barking in the middle of the night, he doesn't have to put his pants on.
But still, you know what I mean.
And he's been gone today and will be gone until tomorrow and so I've had the house all to myself. I fought the urge to scrub toilets or do something crazy like that and instead, sat myself down and wrote some pages on a could-be novel that I'm enjoying a lot. Sure, I did the laundry and I went to the store and I went to yoga, but I didn't even sweep! There's a poor little dead green frog on the porch as we speak and I haven't removed it yet. This takes more will power from me than you can possibly imagine.
And I'm thinking, "Yeah, I can do this. I can use my time to do what I've been wanting to do my entire life. I can sit down and write and not feel overly guilty. I am allowed to enjoy this sweet life I have the privilege to call my own."
It was bliss.
Then the phone rang.
Now I'm not the kind of person who can ignore a ringing phone and I haven't figured out how to turn these modern phones' ringers off. I will let it go if it's some 800 number but when it rang today the caller ID was someone I didn't recognize and it was a local call so I answered it.
The woman on the other end was looking for someone with my name. Turns out it was me she was, in fact, looking for. She's a woman whom we rented an apartment to years and years ago and she wasn't sure I'd remember her, but I did indeed.
When she showed up on my doorstep in answer to the apartment for rent ad we'd put in the paper, she was a shy woman, obviously gay, and I could tell right away that she wasn't exactly proud of that. Her entire demeanor seemed to be set in apology mode but when she saw the bumper sticker on my car which said, "I'm straight but not narrow" she visibly relaxed some. She felt it important to tell me that she was indeed gay because she didn't think it fair for me to rent someone an apartment (it was in our basement) without knowing.
I laughed and told her that was fine with me. Gay, straight- it didn't matter if I liked her and thought she'd be a good tenant and I liked her and I knew she'd be a good tenant. And she was.
She lived downstairs from our family for a while. I can't remember exactly how long but I was sorry when she moved on. She'd come from some very small town to Tallahassee, the "big city", to make a new life as a gay woman and she did. She outgrew the little apartment downstairs when she met someone she wanted to partner up with and moved on and we lost touch but I've thought about her many, many times over the years.
So when she called, I was surprised, but glad to hear from her, although I could tell immediately from her voice that something was very wrong.
And it was.
"I've been diagnosed with terminal cancer," she said, just as quickly and just as honestly as she'd told me she was a lesbian all those years ago.
My heart sank and I wished I could reach out and grab her and hug her up through the phone because I didn't know what in the world to say.
She said she'd been thinking of me a lot and something told her to call me. I was glad she did, but I didn't know what I might have to offer her other than to tell her I have always thought highly of her and wish that this horrible bad thing hadn't happened to her. She asked me if I knew of any churches that might have a support group so that she could talk with someone about this whole thing. Cancer, death, I guess.
She mentioned that her family has been asking her if she's talked to a preacher. She mentioned getting "saved" a few times.
Saved.
Huh.
I told her that in my opinion she was saved and it made my heart so sad when she said she knew she'd been a sinner.
"Jesus," I wanted to tell her. "Sin's just a damn word that religions have cooked up to keep people in control." I sort of did say that, but perhaps in more diplomatic terms.
"I know your heart," I told her. "It's as good as any heart on earth." And I meant it.
"Well," she said. "Maybe."
I promised to see what I could find out about any sort of spiritual support that might be more open to alternative life-styles. I know there must be some out there. I've already e-mailed one friend who might know something.
And I so wish I could help her to feel more at peace but how in the world can I do that? Her world is crumbling. Her life may be ending. What can I do?
I can call and check on her. I can do a little research. She has so many questions about what's going to happen when she dies. I told her we all do and that no one truly knows, no matter what they say.
When we hung up, I knew I hadn't made her feel better. But maybe calling me was one of the things on her list that she could cross off. Just to call me and tell me what was going on, to hear that I'd be sending her love, that I do love her- maybe that was important in some little way.
And here I am, at the tail end of this day that started out with me so full of light and joy at the prospect of a new life in front of me, a good life already behind me.
And I guess what I have to say is that now I feel darker, of course. Death is going to find us all and it truly sucks when it's someone relatively young and who is, no matter how a church may define sin, a good, good person.
Every time we rub up against death, it darkens us because it reminds us that it's going to happen to us and to the people we love, too. Eventually it will.
So I'm trying to just send her positive thoughts. I'm trying to remember that she's someone I used to know, and that my life hasn't changed one bit since I found out that she's not well.
But is has, hasn't it?
I know in my heart that when we die the light that we are made of does not go anywhere. It's here forever, just as it was here before we made our arrival on the planet. I don't understand how this works, but I'm pretty sure that it's mainly about light and it's about love and that those two just somehow have to be at least microscopically stronger than evil or darkness.
Even if I could explain that theory to the woman who called me today, I doubt it would make her feel any better. But I'm trying at this moment to make myself feel better.
I'm going to go light her a candle.
That may be all I can do at this moment, and it's probably not going to make much of a difference in her life, but it'll remind me of something I seem to need, which is that we need to dance in the light and in the love as long as we can so that when darkness surrounds us, we have something to call up to fight the darkness with.
At least that's my theory and what I hope is true.
So if anybody out there knows of any resources for this woman who might be able to give her some comfort, to let her ask the spiritual questions without judging her on being what God (and I use that term loosely) made her, please let me know.
Or at least just try to find that place in your heart that is as pure as the place in hers and send her a good thought. Send her a little light.
Then dance some, maybe. Do a little dance and celebrate your own light.
That'll make me happy and it sure can't hurt my friend.