Wrestling with G-d

My Hebrew name is Naftala.  I know - kind of unusual, right?  From what I have been able to learn, the translation of my Hebrew name is "my struggle," or "I wrestle."  This name is pretty apropos these days.

I have been friends with someone since we were seven years old.  Literally.  We went all though school together, went to college together, were in the same sorority.  Our families are best friends.  I cannot remember a time that she was not a part of my life.

We graduated from college and began our adult lives.  I went straight to law school as I had always planned.  She is a far more artistic soul, so she did graduate work to burnish her portfolio, and attempted to begin a career on the creative side of the advertising world.  In a good economy, this is a tough field.  When you graduate into a recession, as we did, it is nearly impossible.  Still, she stuck to her guns, and landed jobs with some small agencies.  It was a tough ride for her, and she definitely had some long periods of unemployment.  Me?  I passed the bar and started at the firm where I had been a summer associate.  Good, solid work.  For the first time in my life, I had a few dollars to my name.

Young and living in the big city, she played the dating game.  She loved the funky, artsy boys.  Me?  I married my college boyfriend, the solid and dependable engineer.

In our mid-twenties, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis.  It took a while, but after a few hospitalizations and lots of yucky meds, I got it under control.  Soon thereafter, we learned that she had Hodgkin's disease.  Her treatment was, in a word, horrific - culminating in a stem cell transplant.  She came through with flying colors, squared her shoulders, and got on with life.

A year or two later, she took a terrific job opportunity in Los Angeles.  While I was sad to see her go, I knew that she could never pass up this chance to start anew.  LA suited her well.  She rented an apartment in Brentwood, made a ton of new friends, and enjoyed a full and active life.  The career she had chosen was still not an easy one - and she did suffer job losses.   Still, she managed to land a good position and stay there until the economy tanked.

And then....

After she was laid off, as so many people were in 2009, she became ill.  At first she thought it was food poisoning.  It went on for days and days.  Finally, her cousins insisted she go the the emergency room.

She had five tumors in her brain.

The doctors eventually diagnosed her with extensive small cell lung cancer - it had metastasized to her brain.  As she was not a smoker, I was flabbergasted.  We all felt so helpless.  With her being so far away, I couldn't even make her dinner or do her laundry.  I turned to Judaism, and struck a bargain with G-d.  I would become more observant if he would only spare her from this certain end.  I took on the observance of mikvah, praying furiously each time I dunked that G-d would grant her a reprieve.  I was not so naive to think that she would ever be cured - small cell lung cancer is notoriously deadly.  Still, I hoped that by taking on more observance, the blessings would rain down on her.  Like I said, I felt helpless.

Over the next two years, she underwent chemo, whole brain radiation twice, and several gamma knife procedures in her brain.  While her immediate family is still in the Midwest, she bitterly fought any suggestion that she move home and allow her parents to care for her.  She wanted to stay in California, and simply refused to entertain the idea of going back to her hometown.

About a month ago, it became apparent that she was suffering cognitive effects from her disease and/or treatment.  Her family in California gently suggested to her that it was time to go home.  And so she did.  We made plans to go for dinner - and I was shocked by her appearance.  She weighed about 88 pounds.  Her left eye drooped, and she slurred her words.  She could not go up or down steps without assistance.  Her short term memory had absolutely disappeared.

I have really not cried.  I have been mad.  Mad at G-d.  How can he do this to her?  She never had what the rest of us have had - no permanent loving relationship, no children, no career.  What did she do to deserve this?  I have struggled, really wrestled with G-d.  As the High Holidays drew near this year, and as I have watched her slow decline into mental and physical impairment, I really wondered if I could go to shul for Rosh Hashanah.  I was having a major crisis of faith.

But I went.  After all, I am a mommy, and I did not want my children to get even a whiff of my struggle.  I took it as an opportunity to have a little Talk with G-d.  I settled in as the rabbi began his sermon - about 9/11 and how terrible things can bring us to do good in the world.   At the end, he started talking about bargaining with G-d for things we want when faced with terrible things. He said G-d doesn't want terrible things to happen to people, and that G-d feels our pain when people are sick and hurt. And sometimes, G-d 's answers to our prayers are not what we expect - sometimes he gives us the strength to face these bad things. It was like my rabbi was talking directly to me.  And I FREAKING LOST IT RIGHT THERE IN SHUL.  I cried my brains out.

So - G-d didn't wait for me to talk to him.  He talked to me, first.   He told me that he is not doing this to her,  but that he will help get us through this, and he will take care of her soul.  I wish he would explain to me exactly why my dear friend is suffering in this way.  Some would tell you that she has worked out all of her bad karma, and that her soul is getting ready to be reborn into a beautiful and healthy new life.  Some would tell you that her soul is working to attain perfection, and it is getting ready to join G-d in Olam Habah.  G-d did give me strength and a renewed faith when he came to me today, on the birthday of the world.  I am grateful for that. 


If you are reading this, please daven for Chasi bat Sharon.  Say a Mi Sheberach or tehillim.  Hug your family close, and pray that her family has the strength to face the coming days.