Dancing in the pain

This Christmas I decided to ask for a guitar. I have always wanted to learn to play but I never had a guitar that was small enough for my hands, nor have I ever really had time to learn to play. While medical school and residency are not the best times to be picking up a new instrument, I figured this spring and summer I would have more time to learn than I will in the next like 3 years at least. So Christmas Day I opened a junior Yamaha guitar. I spent my 2 weeks off of school to practice some easy common chords, and I tried playing them in simple worship songs. I've missed making music. Singing is great but, at least for me, I don't feel the music as deeply as I do when I'm making the music and singing to it. I don't have dreams of playing for a worship band again as I did once playing the drums. I don't even really want to play for my friends and family. Honestly as I thought about what to 'get' this Christmas, I wondered what I could give back to the God who gave me everything. And all I wanted to do was sit outside, make music, and sing to Him. I've gotten this guitar out several times and just played a little, but when I brought it with me to Memphis and set it in my room for the month, I wondered why in the world I had lugged it along. Yet one night this month I was very glad it was here. 

Death is a hard thing to deal with. Not only coming to terms with the physical absence of a person, but also facing the mortality of your own fleeting life. So many of the children I have met this last month unfortunately are very aware of their mortality. When I started this rotation I had this panic moment where I really asked myself why in the world I had signed up for this. Part of me thought it was because it's St Jude and how can you not sign up for an opportunity like this? Part of me thought it was so that I could see how these horrible things start so that I know what to look for in my own practice so I won't miss anything. But the more I thought about it, I think deep down I know that I need exposure to hard situations so that when I face them later I will be better equipped to handle them. I don't like cancer, and I don't like death. But inevitably, I will at some point have to have those awful conversations with unsuspecting families. I want to be able to process things now while I'm not in charge and I can take time to think through it. 

St Jude has been a wealth of knowledge in many ways. And I have learned much about handling difficult situations. Unfortunately, I also began learning how to deal with the death of a patient. We tried to get her home to die around family and friends. But things progressed more quickly than we expected. When we went to see her she didn't look good but still talked to us and even blew us kisses as we left. But I had a feeling she wasn't going to be with us long. That night as I prayed for her family I asked for mercy. Yet, as I prayed knowing they do not know Christ personally, I realized maybe God needs to allow it to be hard in order to bring them to Him. So I have been praying for God to use it all to bring them closer instead of pushing them away. If they need to hit bottom to look up, Lord help them find the bottom. 

I didn't have time to process her death for several hours. We had many other big things going on, and most of the day was a whirlwind. That night when I got home I ate, took a shower, and though I wanted to just pass out on my bed, I got out my guitar. And I realized God had given me this guitar for moments like this. Moments when my heart is overwhelmed and can't even understand everything. Yet, I could worship, and worship I did. Just me, my guitar and my all sufficient, and perfectly good God. More than my words could have helped me express my feelings, I sang about redemption, and grace, and going home. For a moment, I could leave the hard sciences and be one with the music that allowed my heart to dance. . . To dance before my God.