Muddy Shoes

At religious services last week, in preparation for Passover, our Rabbi told a story of two Jews who were part of the departure from Egypt. As they were crossing the parted sea, all they could focus on were their muddy shoes. They kept their heads down, complaining about their shoes as they waded through the mud. Once they made it to the other side, they found their fellow travelers dancing with joy. They then queried why the others were dancing. The response was, of course, that the parting of the sea was a miracle that had saved their lives and enabled their escape from almost certain death by the hand of the Egyptians who were quickly approaching. The men then realized that while they had been focused on the mundane and insignificant problems of their muddy shoes, they had missed the bigger miracle that had just occurred.

As I listened to the story, it hit me how easy it is for me to act like those men with the muddy shoes. I get worked up about a pain here or there or a minor delay with getting treatment, not seeing the bigger picture. There is a miracle happening right here – in my body. I am alive.  But – not just alive, thriving.

Earlier this week, the world lost another incredible cancer warrior, Michelle Taylor Shutzer, who had been battling colon cancer for the past 4 years. I was devastated once again. Although I had never met Michelle, we had been posting on each others’ blogs and Facebook pages, supporting each other on our cancer journeys. Having cancer can be very lonely and to share the experience with others who are going through similar challenges makes it just a little less lonely.

When I learned about Michelle's passing, I called Pat from DC (which is where I’ve been for the past week for work) in tears. He once again brought me back from despair by saying “Eve – it’s not your story! You’re in DC right now and you just went skiing last weekend. You’re not dying!” 

And he was right.  Last week, as I was flying down the slopes at Tahoe, breathing in the breathtaking beauty around me and hearing my daughters’ laughter in my ears, I did recognize how incredibly fortunate I am.  And yesterday, I was out and about looking at the exquisite cherry blossoms which were in full bloom in our nation’s capital.

Unfortunately, too often, I get caught up in muddiness of my shoes and don’t realize what a miracle it is that I am living. In Michelle’s memory and in the spirit of Passover, I am going to renew my commitment to recognizing the miracles and beauty all around me and stop looking down at my shoes.

On Thursday, I’ll be heading back to Stanford for surgery #18 – changing out the stent in my ureter. Fortunately, this should be an easy outpatient surgery. But – if I could ask once again for all of you to send a few prayers my way – I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt having them!

Chag Sameach!