This Message Has Not Been Sent
This Life is Real series has generated more readers and responses than I would have ever imagined.
Many of those responses are posted to the Oklahoman’s website, for the whole world to see. But many others come to me personally, through my website, email, or facebook account. And some come to me via snail mail, telephone or face-to-face meetings.
Some readers tell me about the loss of their spouse or child or parent. Others tell me about their stage IV cancer, their struggles with chemo or radiation, or their difficulties as a caretaker. Complete strangers tell me that they are praying for me or send me some home remedy that they claim will help my condition. Some tell me how they found the site during the wee hours of the morning and then read all postings in one sitting. Old friends write to say hi and cheer me on.
At times the responses are about something I’ve written. Someone identified with this or that blog entry for some particular reason. Or someone had a different experience relating to the subject at hand. Others just want to say thanks for speaking about things that made them feel as if they are not alone. Some, of course, disagree with a point I’ve made or position I’ve taken.
Just this week I’ve heard from a woman whose daughter died in the OKC bombing, a pastor who has been laughing through some of my crazy experiences, someone who lost a dear friend to colon cancer, a doctor offering an experimental therapy for free, a book club that has been using my memoir in a study, and a mother who asked me to seek out her daughter in the afterlife, so I could tell the daughter how much she was loved.
These responses are worth their weight in gold. They humble me. They make me cry. They help me believe that I have something worthwhile to offer this world and that the attending difficulties of this series are something I can endure or work through.
Of course, there are the other letters too. The ones that make me shake my head or wince. And occasionally the ones that make my blood boil.
During my days in church, one of the concepts frequently used was the “spiritual disciplines.” For example, there were the spiritual disciplines of prayer, meditating, serving others, giving, and demonstrating faith, to name just a few.
But I’ve discovered another spiritual discipline during the course of this series: the spiritual discipline of writing that letter you really, really want to write, indeed need to write, to that person who has said something hurtful, but then deleting the letter, no matter how good it might feel to press the send button.
This spiritual discipline comes in handy when somebody accuses me of not “being right” with God, proposes some long-shot home remedy that doctors don’t want us to know about, or takes a below-the-belt shot at me.
Most of the time I just shake it off, because I’ve gotten used to hearing from these occasional crazies. But sometimes they get to me, and I find myself stewing for much longer than I should.
When this happens, I’ve found that the best thing to do is to go ahead and write the response letter I want to write.
“Dear Mr. K, do me a favor and find some other dying man to send mean, self-aborbed, holier-than-thou letters to. I could do without your help.”
“Dear Ms. A, thank you for your armchair psycho-analysis. I wasn’t aware you had training in this area.”
“Dear Mr. J, congratulations on discovering the cure to every cancer known to man! And to think it was right there in my kitchen the whole time. The irony! You should be careful though. The doctors and hospitals probably have people watching you.”
After that, I read over the letter and spend a few pleasant moments contemplating how much fun it would be to watch the would-be recipient read the letter.
And then I press delete, feeling much, much better.
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Comments
Dear Jim,
I just found your blog today. I want to thank you for the honesty of your words and the gift of your insight to those who will take the time to seek them. your words help to put the urgent in perspective and illuminate the simple pleasures around us. I look forward to visiting you through your blog again. Peace to you.
Laura
Jim, you have such courage. You have such talent. You have such spirit. Thank you for gifting us with all of this. God bless you and keep on keeping on.
Martha
You continue to demonstrate more self control and dignity than I sometimes do. Usually I try to keep my mouth shut when friends and family have unsolicted advice about areas of my life that I have not asked for input on. Your situation is magnifed because of your work through this series. I will try your idea of the letter not sent to ease my frustration. Thanks for teaching me!
Congrats on the news from Houston, you are a gift to your family and all of us.
For an amusing airport experience, my search stopped in it’s tracks one time when the screener looked through my carry on and pulled out a prosthetic breast!
My continued prayers for you and yours, Laura G.
Jim, those responses you write sound like a good antidote to the poison that’s been sent your way. Unfortunately, there truly are toxic people in the world. And bravo for deleting them before you ship them off. True discipline.
I knew someone who didn’t delete or trash her angry responses to unwelcome correspondence. She sent them on their way through the U.S. Postal Service. Unlike you, I’m not sure she took much pleasure envisioning how the recipient reacted to the response. I much prefer your approach.
Having taken care of a loved one with a terminal illness, I know there are good days and bad days. There can even be great days. So, Jim, here’s hoping you have a great day!
I guess a mixed blessing of your situation is that you get to see the best and worst sides of people.
Hopefully the former far outweighs the latter.