Looking Up

Aunt Myrtle was my Granddaddy’s baby sister and she was from Brantley (population 920). She married Uncle Ennis and they lived in a little place called Red Level. On a map, it is the smallest dot they make. The only people I ever knew who lived there were Aunt Myrtle, Uncle Ennis, and my cousins Rosalyn and Gaylen. The current population is around 550. Red Level’s claim to fame is being the birthplace and home of Dr. Luther Terry, the surgeon general who put the cancer warnings on cigarette packages. He also helped in the effort to ban cigarette ads on television and radio. He isn’t related to us, as far as we know, but being a native son of Red Level is close enough to claim kinship in some instances, and we are proud of what he accomplished. So, he belongs to us.

When we would visit Aunt Myrtle, I was in heaven. There were lots of things I loved about those visits. The house had a big kitchen with a huge table, so everyone could eat at the same time and the children could eat at the same table as the adults. We didn’t get banished to the children’s table or to another room entirely. We got to hear everything that they talked about and I loved it. There was also a piano that Aunt Myrtle would let me play, even though I didn’t know how. She would sit with me and play all kinds of hymns and we would sing and sing. Every now and then I would reach out and plunk in a random note of my own and she didn’t even mind – we just kept on singing. Uncle Ennis was actually the most enthusiastic musician of the bunch, and he would also play for as long as I wanted to sing. And then there was a barn – with hay and cats with lots of kittens. I never got bored as long as I had that barn to play in and some kittens to cuddle.

The best thing of all, though, was the junk room. There was a room in Aunt Myrtle’s house where they just put stuff. It was full of all kinds of wonderful things and I loved to explore in the junk room. Whenever Aunt Myrtle said to put something up, it went into the junk room. So, one day we were getting ready to eat at that great big table, but there was some stuff sitting on it. Aunt Myrtle turned to Uncle Ennis and said, “Ennis, take this and put it up.” He picked up the armload of whatever it was and headed down the hall. I knew exactly where he was going. In just a minute, he was back. And he was carrying the same armload of stuff. Aunt Myrtle said, “Ennis, I asked you to put that up.” And Uncle Ennis said, “Well, I can’t, Myrtle. Up is full!”

That’s about how I am feeling sitting here at the Cancer Center. I think to myself, “I can put up with this cancer treatment stuff as long as I have to.” And then it hits me – Up is just about full. Maybe the problem is that I am far enough along into the treatment process that I can’t remember how it felt to feel good and I don’t want it to always be like this. And then, right out of the blue, just when I need it most, God steps in. This time in the form of my sweet nurse Tara who says, “You are doing great! You haven’t hit the wall yet!” Oh, yes I have. I am banging my head there right now. And then Tara says, “You are stronger than you think. Look what you have already been through – cancer, surgery, starting chemotherapy, your hair falling out, your son surviving the Tuscaloosa tornado and then moving to Ohio – you can do this!” No, I can’t. But God can.

Up is not full. God just cleared out some more space. He will do it for you, too. Whatever your journey, He will make the room for you to get through it. He will move some junk, open some space and hold you close so that you are loved and protected and safe. Just ask Him. He wants to do it. Whenever you think you can’t, He can. I know.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me.   Psalm 138:7