What I Should've Said

Sometimes words fall out of my mouth, and before I'm even finished speaking, I wish I could take them back. Foot. In. Mouth. It happens to all of us. Probably me more than some others - if I'm being honest about it. It's a hazard of my biology.
On the opposite end of that spectrum, is the wish that we could say what we wanted to say, the moment we wanted to say it. I think we've all had one of those moments too - a time when we should've said something, but we didn't.
Maybe those words we should've said are simple, like, "I love you", or "I'm sorry", and maybe they're harder things to say, like, "I'm angry with you", or "You've hurt me" - but, I think we've all felt the sting of wishing, somehow, that the right words would have come out, when it mattered.
There are so many reasons why, when the moment comes, we don't say what we should've said.

Sometimes we're scared of what might happen...
Sometimes we don't think of the words until after the moment has passed...
Sometimes our own insecurities get in the way...

And sometimes our feelings are so huge, that words are impossibly inadequate in comparison - and so we struggle to know what to say...

I had a moment like that.
It happened when I went to see on old friend of mine.

Let me tell you about my friend.

My friend, Trevor Linderman

I met my friend when we were in high school. I was a Junior and he was a Sophomore. My friend was intelligent. He was educated. He had opinions. He liked to debate about his opinions. He liked to win those debates. At first, I didn't want to be friends with my friend. I thought he was a bit of a pain in the neck, actually.

Then I saw my friend stop dead, in the middle of one of our debates, and comfort a crying girl on the debate team bus. "Maybe that guy isn't as bad as I thought," I thought. I was still the new kid at the high school and perhaps I was being a little too defensive and emotional to be friends with my friend.

I got to know my friend a little bit better. I found out that he's an Eagle Scout. He wore his scouting uniform with pride, like my brothers. My friend was an avid outdoorsman. He liked to hike all over the mountains of Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana. He ran track and played tennis. He played the cello in the orchestra. My friend liked good music too, Pink Floyd and the Eagles. My friend liked to hang out with his parents, even though they were, well, his parents. My friend knew how to make everyone laugh. Turns out my friend was pretty awesome.



Jacob and Trevor - Scouts

My friend taught me a lot of things over the years. He taught me how to snowshoe. He taught me how to use a camping stove. He showed me all the best spots to swim, hike, and play in the outdoors. He taught me how to drive a stick shift, even though he was probably scared for his safety. He tried to teach me to swim without plugging my nose - unsuccessful. He also tried to teach me to love everyone, even if they were different - more successful.



My friend was good at including everyone. While we were at debate tournaments, he played cards with anyone who was up for a good game. He silenced anyone who teased those kids, who we were pretty sure were gay, but hadn't had the bravery to come out yet. He knew how to make people feel comfortable. He accepted people as they were. My friend introduced me to a lot of people who were every bit as fun and awesome as he is. My friend helped me make friends. He helped me feel at home in my weird teenager world.


Madison High Debate Team - 2000

My friend and I kept in touch while I was at college and he was still a Senior in High School. We laughed together about my crazy roommates and my classes that were much harder than I was used to. He told me about a girl he liked - a cute one with red-hair named Chelsi. His debate partner. The girl who cried that one time on the bus. He listened at lot too. He gave me a lot of advice and encouragement. He kept me up-to-date on what all our friends were doing. He always made me smile.


My bro. Carson, Trevor's brother, Justin, and Trevor

One day, Jake, our mutual friend, called me with some bad news. My friend was sick. He had a seizure one night while he was out with some friends. His parents were taking him in for some brain scanning. The doctors didn't know what was wrong yet. I called my friend as fast as my fingers could dial. "I have a brain tumor," he said. "I guess that's what I get for sneaking out." He downplayed things as much as he could to make me feel comfortable. "I'll be okay," he told me, sounding very 'not' okay. "Is it cancer?" I asked him. "Yeah," he said. I swear I felt the earth move.

I went to see my friend after his first surgery. I was afraid walking through the hospital doors. I didn't know what to say. A hospital seemed like a very poor fit for my friend. He belonged in the mountains. "It's about time you showed up," he said when he saw me. I laughed. I relaxed. My friend had been through some tough times, but he was on the road to recovery. Everything would be okay.

Jake, Trev, Me

My friend graduated from high school, and even though he'd just had brain surgery, we stood from his wheelchair, and walked to pick-up his diploma. I cried my eyes out in the audience. I was so proud of my friend that day. Time passed. I still went hiking with my friend now and then, and even though he had a limp and a leg brace, he still pushed through the discomfort, every time - smiling, even. My friend went to college. More time passed. I got married. He got married too - to that cute girl he'd loved for years - Chelsi, the red-head. My friend and I were busy with life. I had kids. He had kids. We drifted apart - into that quiet place where old friends exchange occasional Christmas cards, e-mails, and "Long-time-no-see" hugs over the holidays.

I kept tabs on my friend. I bit my nails through Chelsi's blog posts and facebook updates regarding his health. I smiled at the pictures of his beautiful children. I cried when I heard that his tumor came back. He fought cancer - again. He went into remission - again. I cheered for my friend from afar. I prayed for him, the way long-distance friends do when they have no other way to help.

Then, not too long ago - I read that my friend had cancer for a third time. This time the options were more limited. This time it wasn't clear what the outcome would be. At first, I wasn't worried. My friend was strong. He's been in remission before and he'll go into remission again - but the more time passed, the worse it seemed to get. My friend and his wife started traveling. They created a bucket-list. They went to a lot of doctor's appointments. They made scrapbooks and asked for prayers. They started planning for the worst. Fear crept into my heart...

Then I one day, I read this post from Chelsi -
"If you're going to see him, now's probably the time. We don't know what will happen. We don't know what symptoms might crop up..."

So - even though it had been a decade, even though I had long-since been a B-list friend, even though it felt a little awkward - with some encouragement from his sweet wife - I went to see my friend.

Trevor.

I was a bit rusty at first, and a little nervous, but, as was usual for my friend, he made me feel comfortable right away. His house was full of people. His people. His close friends and family. The people that matter the most to him. There was a feeling in his house too. A strange mix of joy, friendship, chaos, peace, reverence, hope, and love. I wish there was a word for it, but even now, weeks later, I can't think of one. We talked. We caught up. We laughed about old times and old friends. It was a simple blessing, to sit there with him, and talk about life.

Me and Trevor

What I saw - People, family, kids, Chelsi - coming in and out. Always hugging him before they left and kissing him when they arrived. Cooking dinner. Hugging children. Asking him what he needs. Offering to help.
What I said - "Man, this house is like revolving door. How are you managing this?"
What I should've said - "You are so loved."

What I saw - Trevor's friend Josh, one of the most goofy, carefree, kids I can remember from high school, helping Trevor into his wheel chair and pushing him around, without an ounce of awkwardness - like he'd done it countless times before. Checking on him. Reminding Chelsi to give her children medicine on schedule - because he's been there so much, he has more than one medication schedule memorized. Josh's wife, Sam - helping Trevor's children, helping Chelsi, socializing with his visitors, joking with Trevor like a brother.
What I said - "I'm glad you guys have stayed friends over the years."
What I should've said - "You make me want to be a better friend, and I hope one day, more than anything, that my children will find a friend like you."

What I saw - Chelsi, running errands, taking care of sick kids, hugging visitors hello and goodbye, worrying about dinner, massaging Trevor's feet, asking him if he's too cold, or too tired, or too sore, adjusting his socks, going to and from appointments and pharmacies, figuring out how to pay for everything, offering everyone drinks, and food, and a place to sleep, organizing rides for Trevor, and musicians for Trevor, and visits from neighbors and friends, and doing so many other things, I eventually lost count.
She hugged me when I left. She followed me out the door to make sure I was okay. - Imagine. She was concerned about me. That's what kind of woman she is. Struggling in ways I can't possibly fathom, but still taking the time to care for other.
What I said - "I'm so sorry. I hate that this is happening to you guys."
What I should've said - "You're an angel on earth. When I think of courageous women, I think of you. I'm so glad my friend found a companion like you to share his life with. You inspire me to want to be a better person."

What I saw - My friend, Trevor. The same, intelligent, educated, opinionated, funny, kind-hearted, courageous, clever, man he's always been - trapped in a body that isn't working too well anymore. He's tired from endless rounds of radiation, but still resilient enough to push himself in physical therapy. He's proud of his kids. He lights up when his wife and family are around. He's hopeful. He laughs through his discomfort. He makes jokes about himself. His memory is remarkable, considering. He's open, vulnerable, and honest. He's unafraid. He's caring and concerned about others. He's surrounded by love- more love than I've ever felt in one home.
We both cried when I left. I struggled to find words through my tears. I couldn't seem to find words big enough to express what I was feeling.
What I said - "You know, I'm going to cry the whole way home. I'm sorry your struggling. I'm so sorry. I've missed you, Trev. You have wonderful family. One of the reasons I married my husband is because he reminded me of you. I love you. I pray for you every day. You've made my life better, happier. You've been a wonderful friend to me. I know it must be so hard. Keep fighting."
What I should've said -
...
...
...

I still don't know.
Turns out, there aren't words for those kinds of feelings - those huge, intense, encompassing, feelings. Maybe it's some immense combination of gratitude, concern, sorrow, joy, nostalgia, fear, faith, respect, and love - but if there are words. I don't know them.

So... I cried instead. I'm still crying. Weeks and weeks later.

Before I left, Chelsi, an incredible poet in her own right, quoted something to me. Something about tears being a noble form of expression. I looked it up when I got home because I never wanted to forget it...

“Tears are the noble language of eyes, and when true love of words is destitute. The eye by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.” - Robert Herrick

How true. My tongue is mute. I can't really find the right words because there aren't any. How do you contain the memory of seeing that beautiful and terrible struggle into a few words? How do you find things to say that are encouraging and uplifting in the face of so much trial? How do you tell someone what they've meant to you, and how they've influenced your life for the better? How do you express that level of respect and love?

Here's a few people who've done a bit better than me - 

“True friends influence those with whom they associate to “rise a little higher [and] be a little better.” - Elaine S. Dalton

"I cannot even imagine where I would be today were it not for that handful of friends who have given me a heart full of joy. Let's face it, friends make life a lot more fun." - Charles R. Swindoll

"A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably." - William Penn

I don't know what I should've said - but it's probably something like that.

So for now, while I search for better words -
I'll pray for my friend. I'll pray for his family. I'll have hope for better days. I'll find peace in the knowledge that the gospel of Jesus Christ brings. I'll have faith that Lord has a plan for my friend, and for all of us.

And I'll ask you, my friends, for your help.

Below are links to Trevor's story -
Youtube Video - #Linderlove
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1WF4jN6P30

The Linderman Family Blog
http://lindermanlife.blogspot.com/

Medical Fundraising page -
 http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/join-the-linderman-s-fight-/303310

***If you can, join him in his fight. Help this family feel the comforting arms of friends - and friends of friends - who care. I can't think of a more deserving family. One thing everyone can do, is share. Share the youtube link. Share the Youcaring page. Share Chelsi's blog. Share this post. Many hands make light work...

***Seriously, I don't need a Christmas present, or a birthday present, or a cookie, or a high-five from you. I want you to give all that love to this wonderful family instead. :) So...if I've ever owed you a favor...guess what? I'm calling it in, folks.

Much Love,
Mandy