Today you can be their gift: Speak up!

Have you ever felt nudged to speak up, share something, to offer help or hope, or simply to introduce yourself?

Did you act on that nudge, or did you squelch it, thinking it might make you look foolish, put you in the uncomfortable situation of being rebuffed, or worse?

Our little but loudly yipping Chihuahua of Fear can keep us from opening the door and stepping out of our comfort zone.

Ah, but once we do, we often discover the bark is far worse than the bite, and we regret not taking action sooner.

I hope I can encourage you with this story to speak up the next time you feel that nudge.

I’ve written about my nephew before and his diagnosis of an aggressive and malignant brain tumor.

He had been making regular visits to a nearby city to undergo treatment.

Since he was wrapping up his fifth week, he had his schedule down pat. By catching an earlier train, he could be at the hospital lab while there were few patients and quickly move on to his radiation appointment.

This particular day, however, nothing went right.

The lab was inexplicably busy, and the radiation department was running behind schedule, too.

As you can imagine, all of this extra waiting was extremely irritating.

Once my nephew was finished, however, he and his dad decided to have a late breakfast in the city.

They followed up with a visit to his dad’s office to say hello before heading home.

It was when they were headed home on the train—which was late, too!—when Nick’s day took an amazing turn.

I’ll let him tell you what happened:

My dad and I walked off the train like we always do and began to make our way down the steps of the platform. Meanwhile, as I was descending the staircase, I noticed a lady walking uncomfortably close to me. I didn’t think anything of it at first, until I noticed that after we all made it down the stairs she was literally beginning to jog to catch up to me. I was completely uncomfortable at this point.

Then, in the darkness and echoes of the tunnel under the train tracks, I hear “So when was your surgery?”

Confused, I replied “Pardon me?”

“When was your surgery?”

Obviously still trying to process what was going on, I had to ask my dad when it was.

“July 22nd.”

“What kind of tumor was it?” she asked.

At this point I was completely lost! Who was this lady and how did she know I had a tumor? Solely based on my scar?

I informed her that it was glioblastoma multiforme.

“I had the same thing. I’m a 17 year survivor”, she replied.

I was floored! Goosebumps immediately formed on my arms and I knew with certainty that it was not because of the cold air inside that tunnel. It was my definitely my emotions catching up with me.

I stuttered with my words – a response that I’m still unsure of what I said.

She asked me where I was being treated and I told her, which is the same place where I had my surgery. I can’t even begin to remember where she said she was treated because this entire conversation happened so quickly.

“That’s great. You look amazing. It’s all gonna be good, man. It’s gonna be great!”

I do remember being snapped back into reality long enough to say, “Thank you so much.” Really? That’s all I could muster? Looking back, there is so much more that I should have said and asked.

The entire conversation lasted no longer than thirty seconds before we were on our way to our cars, but it was a period of time that was powerful enough to completely renew and refresh my hope for getting through this. I have done absolutely nothing but think about this woman all day – the drive home, pacing the house, during my workout. Every time I think about her, I cry. But in a good way. Based upon her appearance, she looked to be in her early 40s, which means, if my math is correct, she was about my age when she went through this.

Who was this woman and why was she on the same train as me? Why was she getting off at the exact same stop as me? Coincidence? I’m having a very difficult time believing that it’s mere coincidence.

Whether it truly is a coincidence, whether she was a figment of my imagination, or whether she’s my guardian angel sent to tell me that everything really is going to be good, this woman will forever be in my thoughts and will have a lasting effect on my hope to make it through this.

My dad cleverly pointed out on the car ride home, “That is exactly why everything was running late today. So we would have to catch the later train and so you could meet her. I truly believe that without any doubt in my mind! That is something amazing!”

Wherever she may be, I hope this woman knows the impact that she had on me. I regret how quickly the entire thing happened, because I never even thought about asking for her name and email address until it was too late. I have so many questions! I’ve read and heard so many stories about survivors over the last two months, but it was a complete breath of fresh air to finally meet a survivor – it has an entirely different effect meeting someone in the flesh who has gone through and survived what I’m going through.

I have a renewed sense of hope. Meeting this woman, be it chance or faith, was the sign I was looking for that everything really is “gonna be good”.

If you’re out there, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for finding me. Thank you for chasing me down inside that tunnel. Thank you for telling me your story. Thank you for refreshing any hope of mine that may have been diminishing.

THANK YOU!

Our family is grateful, too, that this woman stepped forward to share her story.

Was she worried he might be dismissive or angry if she asked him those personal questions?

Who knows? The important thing is that she spoke up and offered hope, something that was needed that day.

We all have stories to share.

While they may not be as dramatic as this example, they are nonetheless important for others to hear.

After all, how often have we been encouraged because another mom told us a story of the good that came from a meltdown of her child, or that there is hope and joy beyond those heartbreaking teen years?

I think Squire Rushnell said it well in his book, When God Winks at You: How God Speaks Directly to You Through the Power of Coincidence:

When someone’s lost, aimless and adrift
Take the time, give ’em a lift
Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery
But today, you can be their gift.

Gandi, too, reminded us that “Whatever you do may seem insignificant, but it is important that you do it.”

Never underestimate the power of acting on those nudges.

Your words just might water the dry places in another’s heart so hope can bloom again.  (Like this? Tweet by CLICKING HERE!)

Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.  ~Albert Einstein

Have you ever responded to the nudge to speak up? If not, what keeps you from speaking? Please share-I’d love to have you join the conversation!

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Original photo ©Neil Fowler via Flickr