Several years ago a little girl in our congregation was diagnosed with cancer. The treatment was incredibly difficult and lasted for years. Two years ago on our retreat she was quiet and clung to her parents. She had cancer and I didn't - at least not that I knew of at the time.
Last week at our congregational retreat things had changed. This time, I had cancer and she didn't. Her energy was boundless. She ran when the rest of us walked; she jumped when we stood. She chatted ceaselessly about everything. On the way to a campfire she listed for me all of the words that she didn't know back when she was two.
I'm not sure why she decided to be my friend, but I felt like the luckiest person on the retreat. Nor am I sure what any of this has to do with cancer. When I'm with her I think about cancer being a part of our lives that we share, although she's not aware of that. And I think about the fact that only one of us has cancer, and I'm glad.
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