Too Good
by John Fischer
Well, Dwight had an up and down year, and on November 14, 2005 he lost his battle with cancer, but won his battle with Satan over any claim on his eternal soul. He is free at last. This is always so hard, but especially hard when a person has made himself as vulnerable as Dwight has during this process. His emails are now collected in a cancer journal (www.dwightozard.com) that some of you may want to look into but not without a warning: “Danger, contents are painfully real, as in 'Cancer books suck.'” But you will also find things like: “I've discovered that nurses are among the most underpaid and underappreciated people in the world. I've discovered that my best friends are exactly that. I've discovered that my family--all of it, genetic and 'in-law'--are the best. I've discovered my own capacity for ingratitude. I've discovered my wife's unending patience and that she deserves more than I can give her. And I've discovered that a lot of the stuff I've discovered, other people don't think about nearly as much as they should.” As you can see, Dwight was an excellent writer so his work is hard to dismiss. As happens for Christians who walk this road, his faith and hope held up to the end, but not by glossing over the reality of his situation or his real feelings. This is a kind of faith we rarely see, but need to know exists. If it weren't for people like Dwight, we might get the impression that faith paints everything a rosy color and wonder if there is something wrong when our own picture stays bleak and gray. Truth is, faith might not change the picture, but it will come alongside and hold you up and, most importantly, carry you to the end, because the end for those who believe is only the beginning. The following is from an entry in Dwight's journal only a few weeks ago: Either way, we want to just make the most of this thing, to use a metaphor that I'm certain is inappropriate, given my disease, to suck the marrow out the bones of life, to live deeply and without reservation, hesitation or fear. To breathe deep the air of spring and the breath of God, to savor the depths of flavors and the best of God's good earth and to "taste and see" the goodness of God, to hold the things that matter close to the heart, to treasure the hard parts of loving and frolic like a 4-year old in a mud puddle in the good, easy parts. Don't waste this thing.
A year ago almost to the day, in a devotional titled "Sad Little Shovels," I quoted a friend of mine who was battling cancer with an unforgettable explanation of what he was about to go through during one of his treatments. “One doctor referred to [it] as getting hit by the train, then the trucks on the train pull out and hit you, and then their cargo of charging horses run over you too. Only then do the guys with the sad little shovels come and get you and sweep you away.”
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