I have been home 48 hours from surgery, and I am far from finding my own words to hold this experience. I’m crying a lot – I’m still so sad to be here, and also, holding grief for so many people living with cancer. And I’m trying to listen.

This morning I listened to Kate Bowler on On Being — she’s a theologian who survived Stage 4 cancer. (Thank you to the multiple people who sent me this episode.) She writes blessings for hard times. My shock has yet to subside, but still, this spoke to me today. Or it’s more like, I recognize it as something that will speak to me. I think I’m still in between the before and the after.

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From Kate Bowler —

Blessing for the life you didn’t choose

Blessed are you when the shock subsides,
when vaguely, you see a line appear that divides before and after.

You didn’t draw it, and can barely even make it out.
But as surely as minutes add up to hours and days,
here you are,
forced into a story you never would have written.

Blessed are you in the tender place of wonder and dread,
Wondering how to be whole when dreams have disappeared and part of you with them,
where mastery, control, determination, bootstrapping, and grit,
are consigned to the realm of before (where most of the world lives),
in the fever dream that promises infinite choices, unlimited progress, best life now.

Blessed are we in the after, loudly shouting: is there anybody here?
We hear the echo, the shuffle of feet, the murmur of others
asking the same question, together in the knowledge
that we are far beyond what we know.

Show us a glimmer of possibility in this new constraint,
that small truths will be given back to us.
We are held.
We are safe.
We are loved.
We are loved.
We are loved.

And best of all: We are not alone.