Waiting for an Absolution

"And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea........

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,.......
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

--Excerpts from The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

"It is life in slow motion, it's the heart in reverse, it's a hope-and-a-half: too much and too little at once. It's a train that suddenly stops with no station around, and we can hear the cricket, and, leaning out the carriage door, we vainly contemplate a wind we feel that stirs the blooming meadows, the meadows made imaginary by this stop."

--The Wait by Rainer Maria Rilke

Dear friends,

It is with one good eye and a heavy heart that I sit to write this long-overdue blog entry. I have good reason for my tardiness. For the past two weeks I have had a severe eye infection that I still do not know how to pronounce properly. I feel as though I am living in a world apart from everyone else right now. A world of plastered smiles, half-remembered conversations, daily visits to a cornea specialist, four different drops to be administered every one hour/now every two hours as well as at night, an impenetrable haze, and a pain that feels like every nerve in my eye is on fire. I have been plagued by incessant doubts, worries, and the voice of my doctor who said there was a good chance that there might be some vision loss...it repeated so often in my mind at first that it was almost like a broken record.

At the eye institute that I have been going to, I see all of these people who are also waiting for relief and an end to their pain. Many have been suffering much longer than two weeks. My heart cries out for the glaucoma patients that I have to walk by everyday. I cannot fathom the immensity of such an illness as cancer. I am brought back with the realization that I am very much alive and well. It is these people who are truly waiting.

How easy it is to be enveloped by our own pain and sufferings. Some of us do not know how to come back from that world. I had time to sit in that place, waiting for an absolution that is slow to come. It has reinforced my patience and given new meaning yet again to what it means to be vulnerable. What also brings me back is hope. I cannot claim what has not happened yet, and each new day brings more improvement.

Thank you Dan for helping me get the prescriptions that I needed to get better again.
Thank you Ben and Kristen for helping me with my eye drops that first night when they had to be put in every hour.
Thank you Bob and the Summers for taking me to my appointments everyday.
Thank you Laura, Anne, and Ben for simply being there for me. I apologize if I have been less than kind to you. You have my gratitude.
Thank you to everyone who has prayed for me. It has meant so much to me.

A friend of mine has a family member who has terminal cancer. I am reminded of my father who has had AML Leukemia (currently in remission), and my mother's brother who died of lung cancer in less than five months. People come and go from our lives, and in these moments of revelation, we see how fleeting life truly is. Yet still we squander it. I have not been able to do much else recently but sit for hours and think. I come back again and again to the idea that so much of our lives are spent waiting. We wait for the end, the beginning, or the perfect opportunity to say and do all of the things we dream of saying and doing. We foolishly believe that behind every door is another chance to do right. When we finally believe that we have the time, we rush to the door only to find a hollow space of "what ifs" and "if onlys."

To write well, we should write about what we know. This is what I know. Life/time do not patiently wait for us. There is never any more beginning or ending than right now, nor a more perfect opportunity than the present to take that first step towards something or someone. Please do not wait to tell the people in your life that you love them. It is difficult to express emotions that seem to be wholly unsayable, but try. We cannot know what tomorrow holds.
................................................................................................
On a considerably lighter note, Laura, Anne, Ben, and I went with a couple from the church to get a Christmas tree on Saturday! My eye felt well enough that I could go with them. A blessing in itself. It was like the arctic outside though, and I almost got frostbitten toes. The tree farm provided us with plenty of hot chocolate, a wagon ride, and a picture with our new tree. Then we went back to the family's house to eat chili and german cookies. Other people from the church arrived, and we had a great time just being with each other.

Later that evening, we were provided with plenty of borrowed winter trappings to brave the winter weather, and we went into the town looking like eskimos to watch the horse-drawn sleigh/carriage/wagon parade. Thousands of people were converging on the town as well. There were about 145 different carriages, all decked out with lights, bells, bows, etc. It was a sight to see. We'll have pictures for you soon.

Sorry for the lengthy blog, but it has been so long since I wrote to you and I had much on my mind.
I do hope you are all doing well.

A friend always,

Katie