Zen and the Short Pencil, Chapter Three

 

CHAPTER THREE: FAITH SEEKING UNDERSTANDING

“Zen and the Short Pencil”

 The third month of my journey with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis featured my first out-of-town trip. My seventh grandchild, Elijah James Soard, was born August 26th. When he was a month old, Liz and Eric said they were ready for a visit. So, on September 26th I loaded up my oxygen apparatus and drove the 375 miles to Clarksville, Tennessee. This would be my first excursion since leaving the hospital July 8th.

Being on supplemental oxygen 24/7 means you learn how to get around with all the extra stuff that keeps you breathing and out of the hospital. Inside the house I have what is known as an oxygen “concentrator.” This thing plugs into the wall and somehow squeezes 95% pure oxygen out of the air and delivers it via a nasal cannula attached to a 50-foot plastic tube that follows me around the house and stays with me as I sleep. That would need to be loaded into the car so that we could plug it in at Liz and Eric’s house. It weighs about 35 pounds. Beyond that, I loaded up six of the small tanks that I carry in my backpack and one that I call a “tall boy” which is about 2 1/2 feet tall and is like the ones you see on the little carts at the hospital.  The tall boy would stay in the car and provide all that I would need for the 6-7-hour trip each way, and the smaller tanks would go with me to the other boys’ ballgames, church, and the coffee house or restaurant. 

So, yes, I learned right away that from now on it will take a bit more time and effort to prepare to go on a trip, but once I got behind the wheel and pointed toward Tennessee, nothing could take my joy! I was going to see my newest grandchild.

I do LOVE to drive and have been known to make solo drives from Arkansas into Canada or out West in pursuit of bears, walleye, and wild native trout. Something about the open road and the solitude seems to put me right where God wants me in order to get my undivided attention!

I thoroughly enjoyed almost a week with the boys and family. We went to the boys’ ballgames and then I helped Kaleb build his sailboat for the Boy Scout Raingutter Regatta (he came in 2nd). I got to spend time with all four boys, with Liz and Eric, and of course, their dogs. At church there was a baby shower for Elijah, and we went to a nice restaurant after.

The last night of the trip, we went to a Chinese buffet, which was something I had not been to since the beginning of the pandemic. I was a bit leery about going there, but we were very careful and managed to keep our distance and stay safe.

At the end of our meal, we were brought the customary “fortune cookie.” Usually a bit of a joke, nobody really paid much attention to theirs.  When I opened mine, I found it had a message that I found very odd.  It said:

            “A short pencil is usually better

               than a long memory any day.”

Like most people, I usually pay no attention to these things. But for some reason, I kept thinking about this.  It’s like it was haunting me.  Why was I giving this even a second thought? Maybe it was the reference to a “short pencil.” I asked, almost out loud, “What in the %#$ does this even mean? And what, in particular, does it mean to a 67-year-old-man who just received a dreadful diagnosis?”

“Faith Seeking Understanding” is a phrase given to us by St. Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109) who probably borrowed it from St. Augustine (354-430) and basically means that people of faith like to understand what they believe. This was the thumbnail definition of theology for hundreds of years. For those of you who study the Enneagram, I am a “five,” which means I like to think things through, I like to figure things out, and I like for things to make sense. However, my deeper self is fascinated by other things that defy logic and don’t “make sense” from a rational point of view. In other words, my outer person is a “thinker” and my inner person is a mystic.

The fortune cookie confounded my rational mind, but it intrigued my mystical spirit. Its message was not a philosophical statement. It was more like a Zen koan. In other words, you won’t understand it until you stop trying to make sense of it. Then the meaning comes to you.

Now I am not an expert on Zen, and it doesn’t interfere with my Christian practice in any way.  In my view, Zen Buddhism is not a religion per se but a way of comprehending and accepting aspects of reality that don’t make any sense to the rational mind. This is the approach I have taken to interpreting the Eastern-sourced fortune cookie.

If you have read the biblical book of Job, you will remember that the dialogue is comprised of the flailing efforts of Job and his friends to understand, explain, and justify the predicament that Job found himself in. (“Why is this happening to you?” “Have you sinned?” “You MUST have sinned!” “Maybe your parents sinned.” “Maybe God is trying to ‘teach you something.’”) Unexplained suffering is the hardest suffering to bear. Even Jesus on the cross cried out, “WHY?” (Matthew 27:46). Job and his friends never got the answer or explanation that they were seeking. The only relief came when they let go of their striving and decided to “let God be God” because God was going to be God anyway.

In the third month of my journey, I was still trying to “get my head around” what had happened. I asked some of the same questions that Job’s friends had asked. The word “idiopathic” literally means “unknown cause” which was not very satisfying to me. So I studied. I did some research on the disease and on various breathing exercises. I prayed. I listened. I continued to practice mindfulness and gratitude which are two of the most therapeutic things I know of. I deeply treasured the present moments with Liz and Eric and my grandsons and saw each day as a gift. But still I wondered…what is God up to? Does God have a purpose for all this?

I know now there is a reason that I had no specific plans for what my life would look like in retirement, and that the Spirit had led me to leave that rather “open-ended.” In the past six months I have had opportunities for ministry beyond what I would have had time for in the past, and God is still using me. I have heard from friends asking for counsel, spiritual direction, and prayer, and now I have the opportunity to write without having to write a sermon every week. 

I don’t know how long or short my pencil is (I personally know two people who are still here and have lived well beyond the 3-to-5 years postulated), but I am convinced that God wants to use it to help others. What does the fortune cookie message mean? My memories are precious, and I’m thankful for them, but my pencil is what I have in this present moment and one thing that I have a modicum of control over.

“We can learn a lot from our suffering, and there is always something we can do to transform it into joy, into happiness, into love. It is only by having the courage to encounter our own suffering that we can generate the clarity and compassion we need to serve the world.”

        – Thich Nhat Hanh, Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet

        (Harper Collins)

So, my next team update reflected a little bit of my struggle and continued commitment to embrace the present moment

            Update:

It’s been a while so here’s a new update after my FOURTH pulmonary function test (the dr didn’t believe the last two). He said my latest pulmonary function test showed some “slippage” i.e. I’ve gotten a little worse. He’s putting me on a new med; It will take a few weeks to get started. There is no cure for ild/ipf; the med helps slow the progress in most patients and alleviate some of the symptoms. It can extend life, and I am hopeful for that.

 

Still praying for a miracle; but also for the continued mental, spiritual and physical strength to enjoy the gift of each day with gratitude and hope.

 

So I vacillate between deep grief and overflowing gratitude. And THIS IS OK.

It is my new normal, to fully experience both the depth of the grief and the joy of the gratitude. Both make me alive.  The colors and textures of the present moment are more intense, more vivid - and each one is treasured for what it is.

 

So will this next chapter of my life consist of a sad and bitter denouement or the learning of a new way of living?  I’m committed to making a writing contribution and I’m praying for the years to see my grandkids grow up.

 I believe the beginning of a new way of living is the way to go.