And Now From the "Nothing Else Matters" Department

Let me tell you about a friend of mine.

She is part of our Church School team. She and I share the job of teaching the preschoolers. She has two sons; both of them are wonderful, clever, polite little boys. One of them is eight and a half years old; the other one just turned five. I know the five-year-old a little better because he is in our preschool class. He has these huge brown eyes that observe everything. He is quiet most of the time, but when he does speak, it is with a wisdom that contradicts his tender years.

My friend is younger than I am, and she has a promising academic career. She is a sessional lecturer in the English department at our university, and all indications show that she is well-liked by her students. She is keenly intelligent, and is adept at conveying the truth to people in a matter-of-fact manner without offending or antagonizing.

She has been a strong advocate for our Church School. It was almost exclusively her hard work and lobbying that persuaded the church council to hire a paid coordinator for our little outfit last summer, thereby saving us from an inevitable demise.

My friend hasn't had much of an opportunity to benefit from the support we've received from our coordinator. You see, right around the time they hired our new leader, my friend was diagnosed with bowel cancer.

She and her family have fought hard this year. Her husband is like a towering oak, supporting her with his strength and protecting her as well as he can from the harsh elements. I don't see the little boys very often now, but my heart aches for them. No child should have to go down that road.

My friend's parents also attend our church, and yesterday they shared some news with us - even more heart-breaking than the last. Last week, she was admitted to the hospital with what was thought to be a case of pneumonia. Upon further investigation, though, it was found that the villainous cancer had spread to her lungs.

All I can think about are those two little boys. I simply cannot imagine the pain pulsing through that family. And I so wish I could do something - anything - to help. At times like these I feel truly helpless.

I've always made it through rough times by persuading myself that everything happens for a reason. There is a plan somewhere, and we're just not quite meant to comprehend it. This one has me really stumped, though.

Maybe situations like this are meant to teach the rest of us to appreciate life a bit more, to treasure each day, and not to sweat the small stuff. That things like that just don't matter.

That nothing else matters, except the people we love.

There's got to be an easier way to help us learn such a lesson.