Meant to Be

Christmas break started today Wait a minute, let s make that winter break. Its the latest controversy around here. Do we call the activities during this time of year “Christmas” or “winter”? For some reason it's got everybody worked up. And unfortunately winter seems to be winning.

Same thing happened with our orchestra concert last week. I mean, Fve always called it the Christmas Concert since we play mostly Christmas music. But this year it was officially changed to the Winter Concert in order for the school to be more politically correct and avoid any civil lawsuits. Yeah, right. They even had to reprint the posters, and at no small expense either. The only consolation was that we still played some real Christmas tunes including “Silent Night.” Although I hear that may all change by next year.

Well, okay, I suppose it's not the end of civilization as we know it, and it's not like I want to offend some minority religious group, but the truth is, it does irk me a little. I mean, here I am actually celebrating the real reason for the season this year—since I'm a real Christian now—and it seems that everyone else is trying to strip the word “Christmas” off of everything.

I suppose Hallmark will start marketing winter cards to send to all your friends. “Merry Winter, hope you and yours stay warm and dry this season.” The ironic thing is that last Christmas, back when I truly believed I was a bom-again Buddhist, this kind of absurdity would've made me extremely happy. Now, it just makes me sad.

Okay, that's not the only reason I'm sad. I'm mostly sad about Mom's diagnosis of ovarian cancer. It's like I can feel this gloomy cloud hanging over our entire house now. Although if anyone had been watching my mom these past few days, I'm sure no one would guess that anything is wrong. She's like Mrs. Santa—baking cookies and nut breads, decorating the house, and wrapping packages as if…well, as if it's her last Christmas.

Even writing those words right now puts a huge lump in my throat, and I can't believe it's true. I keep telling myself maybe it's not. Maybe there's been a mistake, a misdiagnosis. Or maybe it's just going to go away.

For the past couple of weeks, I've gone online regularly trying to read up on the latest treatments for the kind of cancer my mom has, and while most of the
news is rather dismal, I have discovered a few encouraging stories. And I do believe its possible that my mom could survive this thing. At least I try to believe it. Sometimes I get pretty depressed.

“Everyone in my church is praying for your mom,” Natalie assured me at school yesterday when she noticed I was feeling down. “And a lot of people have sent word out to their online prayer chains, which could mean that literally thousands of people are praying for her right now.” Her blue eyes got bigger. “Do you have any idea what that means, Kim?”

I didn't say anything. I guess I was just feeling too bummed to respond intelligently.

“It means that God could do a real miracle!”

“I know,” I finally said. “Its just hard sometimes…to believe, you know?”

“But I thought you said your mom is feeling better now, and that she even believes she's going to be healed.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess she does. I mean, her spirits are up, and she's acting perfectly normal.

“So you need to do the same thing. For her sake, you need to at least act like you believe she'll be healed, Kim. And maybe it's one of those faith things. Our pastor was talking about that last week. Like when Abraham stepped out into the desert and when Moses stepped into the Red Sea—it was all about faith. But they had to take that first step, and then God stepped in and did the miracle. You know what I mean?”

And suddenly I sort of did understand what she meant. “Yeah,” I finally said. “Maybe that's what my mom's doing now—taking that step of faith.”

“And you need to do it too. We all have to believe this for her, Kim. We have to expect a miracle. Who knows, maybe it will happen at Christmas. Can you imagine how cool that would be?”

And so for a while at school, I really did feel somewhat encouraged, and I really did believe that God could and would do a miracle for my mom. I was being really positive when I got home too. And I told Mom that I believed she was going to be healed. She just smiled and nodded like she believed it too. And everything was pretty cool.

Then this morning, I went online again. I visited some new medical websites, which turned out to have some less-than-happy facts, and now I'm feeling all discouraged again. The stupid thing is, I only went online to pick out some letters for my Just Ask Jamie column. Instead I ended up spending the whole morning getting thoroughly depressed. So much for my big step of faith, huh?

Anyway, I finally quit searching the web for miracles and went to my e-mail box, reading the most recent letters that had been forwarded to me from the newspaper. I'm supposed to be looking for something that specifically pertains to Christmas, since Dad suggested I focus next week's column on Christmas, and I finally found a couple that will work.

Okay, I hope that wasn't too harsh. I know my dad is expecting “uplifting” responses, but honestly, that letter just got to me. I mean, how could this person (not sure if it's a guy or girl) even consider ditching a hurting parent to go off to enjoy the lifestyles of the
rich and famous? It just seems all wrong.

What I really wanted to ask was, how would you feel if you knew your mother was dying? What if this was your last Christmas to be with her? Of course, I can't write that. And I'm probably imposing my own situation onto this poor person who's just writing to ask for advice, when I should be asking myself these questions.

How would I feel if I knew this was Moms last Christmas with us? And can I even face the answer? The truth is, this is tearing me apart.

“Want to do some Christmas shopping with me?” my mom asks as I pour myself a cup of coffee and try to make my eyes open wide enough to see clearly. I've barely crawled out of bed, and I'm really not ready for any conversation yet. Still, this is Mom. I can't just ignore her.

“When?” I ask.

“This morning. Maybe we could leave early enough to avoid some of the last-minute shopping rush. Then we could have a nice lunch together, just the two of us.”

Okay, I already told Matthew that I'd go ice skating with him at noon today. He's never been, and I promised that I'd teach him. But instead of telling Mom about my plans, I agree to go shopping with her. Then when I'm in my room, I call and leave a message on Matthew's cell phone.

“Sorry, I won't be able to go skating with you today,” I say not wanting to go into the full explanation. “Uh, something came up. Do you think we could do it tomorrow instead? Let me know.”

I believe it's the right thing to spend time with my mom, but I also feel a little bummed about canceling on Matthew like that. He was so excited about learning how to skate—it was cute the way he was worried about falling down and making a fool of himself. I can't believe he's never even gone before, and I'd really looked forward to this. I just hope he doesn't think I'm blowing him off. Especially considering that I've been a little chilly to him lately. But that's only because I've been so distracted by this thing with my mom. He should be able to understand that. Shouldn't he?

“I thought you were all done with Christmas shopping,” I say as I back my Jeep out of the driveway. It's really surprising how comfortable my mom has gotten about my driving lately, but then I guess in light of everything else…well, she's probably not that worried about fender benders anymore.