Working on my Ruthie book late last night, I ran across an online essay Andy Crouch wrote in February 2010, the same month Ruthie was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was facing the possibility of the same diagnosis, and wrote about his thoughts in the face of it. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. Savor the whole thing. Here’s a taste:
[M]y life has been blessed beyond my greatest hopes. What if the scan, and all the tests and procedures that would surely follow, showed the worst possible result? I could not believe I would be angry. “Why me?” many people ask upon a diagnosis of serious illness. It’s an understandable question, but I honestly believe I would ask along with many others, “Why not me?” I will surely die. People die every day, with far less blessing and hope than I have known. They die young—much younger than me. They die alone. They die without reason. Why should I not die with them? I do not want to die, but I am not angry that I will die—what truly perplexes and angers me are many other deaths, not my own. All I can say for my life is, “Thank you.” I will never be able to say it enough, and I hope I will say it upon the edge of death.