Thoughts and Prayers
Thoughts and Prayers
Dear Friends,
Once again if you prefer an audio version, you can find it below.
I cringe when thoughts and prayers are so glibly thrown at suffering, like a Get Out of Jail free card that absolves us of any real responsibility for or connection to those who suffer.
Yet I am grateful for the thoughts and prayers sent my way in the past year. Wholeheartedly sent and gratefully received, they have held me and carried me through some dark days, a point of connection in a time of isolation.
There are days when I quietly meditate and let myself be cradled in a nest woven of the prayers and space held by a community of people. Often someone tells me that their friend or neighbor or parent or friend’s parent or faith leader is praying for me. Sometimes it is an apologetic admission ––I hope that’s okay. Instead of resisting, I say thank you, I appreciate it. Prayers have come as metta, as rosaries, as traditional prayers, as vibes, as healing thoughts, as energy and to all of them I say yes please and thank you. Threads in my nest come from the hearts of my beloveds, from community old and new, and from people I’ll never know. Who’s to say which ones make the difference on any given day?
As my diagnosis was being refined through a succession of tests, I was sent for a breast MRI. With difficulty, I climbed up on the tray and lay face down on an apparatus designed so that my breasts hung, and my face was a couple of inches above the tray. I was given headphones for the noise and a panic button to press if necessary. If I pressed the button, they assured me that they would pull me out immediately.
Left alone in the room, the machine slid me back into the narrow tube and the cacophony began. The noise was unbelievably loud, industrial, and dissonant. I was overcome with nausea. Concerned that I would vomit in the fancy machine and in my tiny airspace, I began to finger the panic button. If I press it, I have to start over. Sooner or later, I have to do this. But oh God I can’t throw up in here. This monologue circulated while I held the button. Minutes passed. Push it. No, you’ve got this. Push it. No.
And then the nausea just stopped. There was only the noise left, and I found my way through by counting patterns into it. I knew without a doubt that the thoughts and prayers of the community had intervened and made a way out of no way for me.
Being held in the hearts and minds of so many people humbles me, often bringing tears. I am learning how people will show up for you, if you let them. Not everyone shows up of course, but so many do.
So often I have eschewed offers of help, believing that I should do it myself. This time I simply couldn’t do it myself, so I learned to say yes to those offers. It started with my wife, allowing her to help with my bodily needs when I was so weak. Together we learned to say yes to grocery runs, to rides, to meals sent or dropped off, to the offer of friends to weed our garden and help rebuild our back stairs. I have a friend who sent me a short note every day, and another who explored vegan baking solely to send me regular care packages. I have had people offer reiki and massage and I have said yes. Short visits and cards, care packages, emails and texts and calls have reminded me that I am not alone, that I am loved.
Sometimes people discount their thoughts and prayers sent my way. “I know it’s not much.”
Oh, I tell you my friend – it is everything.
Lots of love,
Maija
P.S. I meant to share a song last week that relates to healing, and I forgot. So here it is, The River by Coco Love Alcorn. For this week, I’ll share You’re Not Alone by two of my favorites, Allison Russell and Brandi Carlile.
