It has definitely been a week, (ok – month…year) for reflection.
I started this blog in May of this year, after some encouragement from another Cowden’s sufferer. Once I realize how to do it, I was prompted to name the blog. I didn’t really give it much thought. I went with the first thing that popped into my head. And so, “beatingcowdens” was born.
The name seemed appropriate at the time, and I guess it still is. But because situations, and people are ever changing, I don’t think the name means the same thing to me as it did 7 months ago. Back then I had already had my double mastectomy, and I think I still was under the notion that if we got out in front of enough things we truly could “beat” Cowden’s Syndrome, the same way you “beat” a football team.
Well, I have come to realize to “beat” it would be to “defeat” it, and since I lack the power to change my genetic makeup, that simply can’t be. So now, I view it as a process. I spend each day, “beating” Cowden’s. Every time I get up. Every time I go to the doctor. Every time I fight to get better, and recover. Every time I explain to my daughter that it is all about HOPE and determination. This is all part of the process we call “beating” Cowden’s.
So really, what is in a name?
I guess it’s all about perspective – but then again, isn’t everything?
I had plenty of time to think about the whole “name” question today, as Felix, and Meghan and I took a trip to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. We accompanied the Moravian Churches on a bus trip to tour Bethlehem, and to take in the Christmas Vespers at Central Moravian Church.
After a few hours in the bus, we got to tour the town. We walked up and down Main Street, enjoying the little shops, and a nice dinner. It was a welcome switch from the normal craziness of doctors, and illnesses, and therapy. It was better than filling out paperwork related to the car accident. It was, even through the chilly mist, a nice family day.
Although I must admit, as we gathered into the church for the service I still felt a bit odd. For so many years, and until so recently, I sharply defined myself as a Lutheran. Now, I was looking up at a Moravian star, marveling at the wonders God can work, and the sometimes unusual ways our prayers can be answered.
Personal issues with the Pastor at my home church left me unsettled and in many ways devastated earlier this year. So, I turned to God and asked for guidance as I looked for a new place to bring my family to worship. It was a long process, with lots of prayers, but some time in late August, I drove up Victory Blvd. I made a left and parked. I went into Castleton Hill Moravian Church on what I thought was a whim. I later thanked God for sending me the message I had been asking for. I brought my family the following week, and we have been attending faithfully as a family ever since.
So as I sat tonight in the Moravian Christmas Vespers service, I asked myself, “What’s in a name?”
I know a good deal of Lutheran theology, and I am learning the history of the Moravian church. There are countless similarities, and a few differences – all of which I like. Knowing that no place or person is perfect, and everyone has their shortcomings, I like the welcome feeling I get at each worship service.
So as we settled into the top row of the balcony of Central Moravian Church, I stopped and prayed. I asked God for peace from the constant turmoil that seems to surround our lives. And, as I sat there with my husband and my daughter a deep peace settled on my soul. Here in this almost 300 year old building, I found peace and comfort in the fact that my family was now enjoying church with me.
What’s in a name? Lutheran, Moravian…. I don’t think God cares. He looks for a heart that is right and focused.
I couldn’t get through a day, especially not sharing this diagnosis with my daughter, without the firm belief that we are being watched over.