The What-ifs

On Friday morning, I found myself articulating to myself that I could use a desert experience.  Jesus got 40 days off work at the beginning of his new job (read: life's mission) to be alone (and fast and deal with the devil, though I desire less of those parts of the desert.)  There is something about the mind and body saying together, "we need a break!" but then there's the rest of reality saying, "yes, but I'm right here."

Friday turned out to be a day unlike one I've ever had before.  I had gone to help a friend of a friend move from the apartment she could no longer afford into a house down the street where her brother lived.  The task, being done with a couple others, seemed simple enough.  We started moving a few things when the brother, whom I had just met, collapsed in what we thought was a seizure.  The two of us who were at the house at the time (the others, down the street), held him as best we could while it passed.  The others arrived, including his sister, and we put him to bed.  His sister deliberated calling the doctor (he was saying no), but was indecisive.  The rest of us kept moving things.

Less than an hour later, he had what appeared to be another seizure and stopped breathing.  An ambulance was called, but after an hour of CPR and other treatments, was unable to resuscitate him.  It turned out to be two back-to-back heart attacks, we learned later.

An unexpected death.  The vicar at the church where the brother and sister attend made it to the house at the same time as the ambulance.  Her reaction?  "I've lived in Hackney long enough that nothing surprises me."  The sister, shocked though she was, reacted similarly, saying several times, "I'm really not surprised."  He was an alcoholic, heavy smoker, and there was a family history of early deaths from heart problems.

It strikes me that this situation was full of "what ifs?"  And, for the sister, it will continue to be.  She can no longer move into the house where her brother was living, but she cannot afford to stay in her apartment.  Death doesn't discriminate, stopping at the door of those who desperately seek or need justice.  Nor does the other end of the cycle -- birth -- care a lick about everyone being born with equal footing and opportunity and love (and, and, and...).

I also saw my first births this year.  Another situation that is full of "what ifs."  New lives coming in the world, unaware of what's happening or how their situation may compare to others.  Mothers' bodies doing the seemingly impossible and miraculous all in one go, with so many chances for danger.

Painting by Stanley Spencer

How do we live in the midst of all this uncertainty?  There is so much unknown.  Frankly, I'm surprised more of us don't have serious anxiety issues.  Or, that more of us aren't walking around after witnessing these harrowing experiences with a mild form of PTSD.  New life and death are always expected (though may happen suddenly), sometimes joyful or celebrated, sometimes utterly heart-wrenching.

I don't know much about how this all works...We go on, dodging the drama as we are able, tripping over it occasionally, embracing it as we must when it is inevitable.

I left the situation on Friday, unsure if I will get that desert experience.  Or, if my experience might be more like an urban marsh experience....(i.e. Hackney).  How do we get away from the what ifs, the whys...?  They follow unceasingly.