The following is a selection from the regular advice column published in the The Mockingbird magazine. Questions for Gracie for the upcoming “Mystery” Issue of the magazine are currently being accepted. If you want advice for yourself (or a “friend”), send questions, with a pseudonym, to magazine@mbird.com. All emails will be kept confidential.
Dear Gracie,
In my house we grew up with a “rub some dirt on it” mentality toward injuries and illness. My mother loved to say, “If you’re going to die, die quietly.” While I appreciate the grit this parenting style gave me, it also made me a bit gruff and rough around the edges. There was little tenderness or grace in these moments; emotion wasn’t often shown in my house. As a new parent, how can I help my child develop moxie but also feel deeply loved and cared for when they get a boo-boo?
Signed,
Gritty
Dear Gritty,
All parenting is a reaction to the way we ourselves were parented. All of it. It sounds like the grit you received was hard earned. And I am not sure you really needed that “lesson.”
The world destroys us all. We suffer catastrophe, death, and the brutality of the human condition on a cycle that only ends when we go home to Jesus. And that death is rarely quiet, despite your mother’s suggestions.
I would say this: You are going to die. And your kid is going to die. Leave the grit for the grind of the world to take care of. Home should be the one place where we can always receive a warm hug and an unnecessary band-aid. Parents should be the people who offer a listening ear and consolation. Grace and tenderness are never wasted.
Signed,
Gracie
Dear Gracie,
Sometimes I feel so off kilter: dizzy, brain fog, achy, and exhausted. Like lots of people, I go to Google with my symptoms. This has sent me down rabbit holes that turn into abysses, all before having a doctor’s diagnosis. This happens, in part, because of the internet, but also because so many of my friends’ real conditions have gone undetected by doctors, and because I live in a very small town where it’s hard to see specialists. But I don’t like how much anxiety the unknown stirs up in me. Help?
Signed,
Internet Doctor
Dear Internet Doctor,
A few weeks before I turned forty, for no reason at all, my tailbone started to ache. I have now experienced that same pain for two months and, while I have not seen a doctor, I am convinced I have spinal cancer.
Recently one of my dear friends had cancer, twice. This friend told me that there is a new blood test that can detect if you have any cancer in your system at all. And I learned that some people just walk around with this .03% of cancer in their system until eventually it either grows into something real or their body destroys it. I took some relief in this news.
It turns out we are all walking around with a little (or a lot of) sickness in our bodies, and we have no control over that affliction until it actually afflicts us.
Your anxiously looking up symptoms on the internet is not going to keep you healthy. But pregaming worry is the human condition. So I really cannot advise you on that.
But I can tell you this: If you just called a friend to talk about what really ails all of us—sadness about how life has worked out, powerlessness to control ourselves or those around us, fear about death—then that might bring you more comfort. Because that blood test is 100% sickness for everyone.
Signed,
Gracie
Dear Gracie,
I’m in my third year of medical school, the beginning of my clinicals. I’ve just started to see patients. It has been incredibly rewarding to have face-to face interactions with folks who are seeking treatment. It’s exactly why I decided to be a doctor. But the pace, the paperwork, the billing, and the risk is unrelenting. In many ways it feels like it cancels out the satisfaction of patient care. I don’t want to give up on medicine, but I have to find some middle ground. What can I do? Don’t pastors confront these same issues with balancing parishioner care and church politics?
Signed,
Med Student
Dear Med Student,
I cannot imagine having a heart that cares enough to attend medical school and also one that has to endure the American medical system on a daily basis. In my time as a hospital chaplain, I remember seeing the poorest patients come in at the point of death. They were too worried about costs to take on any real care. And it was such a painful and grotesque thing to witness just as the chaplain. I cannot imagine the well-educated powerlessness you must feel as a medical professional.
But be encouraged, Jesus is at your side. I would recommend to you a painting that used to seem very silly to me. I think “Chief of the Medical Staff” by Nathan Greene is worth looking at. It portrays Jesus standing alongside the medical staff at an operating table. His hand is placed on the shoulder of the surgeon who is operating on a patient. While I used to dismiss such literal interpretations of Christ, suffering has lessened my prideful cynicism. The message in the painting is clear: The doctor is not Jesus, but Jesus is ever present with the doctor.
Clergy are especially guilty of over-associating with Jesus. We are not Him. And this is not meant to make you (or me!) feel less-than. It is meant to make us feel relieved. Remember that in the most difficult moments of this brave work you do, Jesus is there with his hand on your shoulder, your heart in the care of His.
Signed,
Gracie
Sarah,
This is—no joke—SO HELPFUL to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you… By the way, a few months ago I had convinced myself that my brain was leaking out of my nose (long story, but you can imagine the WebMD-induced rabbit I went down).
I love this column!
This is such a balm. <3