Seeing Lloyd

Lloyd always sat by his wife in the same pew.  Because of his unwieldy oxygen tank they always sat on the pew in the front of the last group of pews off to the side and mostly by themselves.  Lloyd had graduated from Oregon State and taught high school and college mathematics.  Lloyd looked like he must have been ninety years old, only he wasn't.  Lloyd was 68.  Although Lloyd had won a bout with cancer it was a Pyrrhic victory. The chemo therapy had ravaged his lungs and left him frail and weak.  But Lloyd never blamed God.  I know, because I asked him once.  He answered with all sincerity as if the thought of it had never entered his mind.  I was taken aback and slightly ashamed.

The only reason I know all this about Lloyd is because I of my MS.  A few years ago I, like most of the people on Sunday morning, wouldn't have sat down by Lloyd and started a conversation.  Maybe I just didn't see him.  Maybe his condition made me uncomfortable.  Perhaps it reminded me of my own mortality.  But 9 months ago as I walked around the church with my new cane, I saw him differently for the first time.  A fellow sufferer.  Both of us battered and scarred.  So, I took the empty seat beside him and introduced myself.

For the next six months, whenever I could, I took the seat beside Lloyd and asked how he was and what he had done that week.  Our relationship was casual and so was our conversation. He had little breath or energy, but he always had a smile. As the date for my procedure approached, I shared with him my hopes for healing.

On July 12th, God freed me from my MS through a simple outpatient procedure in Albany, NY.  Some of my MS symptoms disappeared immediately.  Others seem to be receding slowly like flood waters.  For the first time in many years, I am starting to feel like a man instead of a cripple. I am overwhelmed with gratitude to God for release from what I had thought was a life-long sentence. I would never get a chance to share my results with Lloyd.

I didn't find out Lloyd had died until Sunday, August 1st, when my wife noticed Lloyd's wife leaving church alone. We caught up with her and learned of his final week on this earth. He had died July 9th. Pneumonia had crept in to his weakened lungs and took him. It had been announced in church on July 11th as we were on a plane to NY.  We hugged her and offered our condolences and our help in packing up her house and moving to a condominium.  As we walked away I couldn't help but think that the God Lloyd had loved so unwaveringly had used him along with my MS to teach me one more lesson before he took them both out of my life.  I'm looking forward to seeing one of them again someday.