Don't Ask "Why?"...Ask "Why Not?"

Life can be a battlefield. We have a choice in how we handle adversity. We can either wallow in self-pity and negativity, or take the route of perseverance with hopefulness and joy seeing the good in spite of the hardships. This is a story of loss, but it is one with a happy ending. It is up to each of us who endure troubles to choose the route of healing and wrapping your minds around what is right, rather than what is wrong. It's up to you.

This is the story of the most remarkable woman I have ever known: my mother. It is one filled with steadfast faith in God's goodness, a positive attitude and an innate ability to accept the reality of adversity and find good in spite of it. I am constantly going to her well of strength to draw buckets at a time to sustain me.

The story begins shortly after the birth of my older brother, Charlie. My parents learned that he had a heart condition from which he would inevitably die. Ironically, my father was doing his residency in pediatrics at Duke at the time. It must have been heart-rending to be working to help save other babies, but be unable to save his son. Charlie died when he was three at a gas station on the way to a routine checkup.The situation became even more painful for my parents when I, as a two year old, walked around the house looking for him, calling his name with an extra cookie in my hand. In my confused way, I was innocently asking even then, "Why?"

My mother, who struggled to find comfort, began to ask herself, "Would I have preferred that this have happened to someone else?"

Amswer? No. And so she accepted it.

Shortly after Charlie's death, my sister, Fran was born. Life continued on happily for many years. I draw on those memories of a wonderful childhood with my little sister and brother, Robert. How could we have known that life was getting ready to throw us a twist?My father was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's at the age of fifty-six.

My mother loyally dedicated the next nine years to him and his needs, until his death. He went from diagnosing tumors to emptying the dishwasher and taking out the trash as the biggest challenges of the day. It was hard for our family to watch this once generous and intelligent man disintegrate into a shell of a person. He enjoyed going for long rides in the car the most. My mother took him every day on long, long drives to the mountains and the country to keep him content. Whenever he saw a license tag from another state, he said in a childlike way, "Boy, they sure are far from home." I think about that statement often in comparison to how the disease left me feeling. The disease not only stole his mind, it stole my sense of safety that only a daddy can provide. It has left me feeling "a long way from home" and its security. Through his illness I would ask, "Why?"

My mother asked, "Why not?" And she accepted it.

Life took another unexpected turn soon when Robert was diagnosed with a rare and incapacitating form of arthritis called Reiter's Syndrome. Every moment of the day was painful for him. My mother took care of his daily needs loyally until his death. My brother had this same inherent strength and ability to look for the good in spite of the bad. He has said to me many times when my eyes could barely absorb another moment of watching his discomfort, "You know, there's so much worse than this out there."

I asked, "Why?" My mother and brother ask, "Why not?" And they accepted it. Life dealt another blow when my sister, Fran, died unexpectedly after a rare two week illness leaving behind a devoted husband and three little children. At the funeral, I kept overhearing people say to my mother, "You've just had so many difficulties in your life." Every time, my mother responded, "Well, I don't see it that way. I've had a lot of good, too." Incredible.

My brother died five years later. At this point, my mind could barely stand the persistent tragedies and the enormity of the pain. So with an aching heart, I said to my mother, "I can't believe you've lost three children and a husband!"

With the same faithful attitude of acceptance she had mustered up following Charlie's death some forty-three years earlier, she replied, "Why not us? Would you rather that it have happened to someone else?" That was the lightbulb moment for me when it all clicked and life in its entirety made complete sense to me.

Thanks, Mama...And so I accepted it.