Grace and Love – a post by Ryan Stewart

How to Fight the Unknown with Courage, Love, Optimism, and (the secret weapon) Grace

[NOTE from Mac - Ryan is a dear friend who, after I asked if anyone else would like to write a post, wanted to share his thoughts on mine and April's story.  It would be awesome to live up to these words!  It's much easier to see the beauty of others than it is to see the beauty of your Self, so I just have to take my friend's word for it that these thoughts accurately describe mine and April's last two years together.  I hope you enjoy this as much as I am honored by it.  Love to all - Mac

P.S.  Ryan is a special person in his own right - a man who returned to school to become a doctor ten years after completing college.   If you'd like to read more by or about Ryan, you can do so at http://www.ryanstewart.com/blog/]

They thought it was appendicitis.  Then they didn’t know.  Then it was breast cancer.  Now…

On one of the first few days of June, 2007, my friend and coworker Mac got a phone call notifying him that his wife, April, was in the hospital because she was experiencing acute left abdominal pain.  He didn’t take it so well.

Mac and I had just gotten to know each other a few months prior when a coworker had introduced us as fellow computer nerds.  Meeting for lunch quickly became a regular occurence.  Mac often ordered a Reuben and I enjoyed the BLT while we talked politics, philosophy, & online business.  I learned about his childhood in Kingston, his dad the NASA engineer, and his brothers and sister.  We talked about books we’d read that we thought the other would like and his mom’s book recommendations would always work their way into the conversation.  I’ve never met her, but I’m pretty sure they share a book list.  He talked about his wife – a girl he’d met while they were camp counselors, and his eyes lit up.  The earliest mentions of her were something like,

“I told April about xyz business I want to start online.  She smiled, nodded, and said ‘That sounds great, Mac,’ but I know she’s not really interested.  She just knows it’s important to me, so she does her best to play along.”

It was uncanny how much we had in common.

My wife often joked that we were leading parallel lives – one of us *in* South Knoxville and the other south *of* Knoxville.  Mac’s friendship is one of the things that I cherish most about the three years I spent in that job.  He was a source of constant calm at a time when decisions I was trying to make created turbulence.  He showed me just how possible it is to love what I’m doing today while be being excited about what tomorrow will bring.  If we could “re-gift” treasures of friendships the way we re-gift Christmas fruitcakes, this is the gift I would pass on – not because I don’t need it anymore (it can’t possibly be taken away from me now) – but because the peace that comes in the wake of this gift is unlike any I’ve ever known.

Honestly, I don’t remember if I’d actually met April before that day in early June.  It turns out she was one of those folks who, after meeting once, you felt like you’d known forever – an old soul you might say.

I do remember that Mac fell to pieces.  I remember thinking that he was overreacting; that it probably was appendicitis and that he should just go to the hospital, give her a kiss, let them operate and then she’d be better.  I also remember asking myself, “How would you react to that news?”  Unfortunately, that’s a question I’ve had to repeatedly ask myself when thinking about April & Mac for the past two years.  It’s a question I’ll try to answer for the rest of my life, but I never want to know what the actual answer is.

It turned out that the pain wasn’t appendicitis.  It came and went before the doctors could determine its cause.  April went home and Mac stayed at work.  Everything was perfectly normal once again.  Every week or so over lunch or coffee I’d ask if April had experienced any further pain, and the answer was always “no.”  Then, a couple of months later, Mac called my office to tell me that April had found a lump and the doctors said it was breast cancer.

You should know that I’m not new to this breast cancer thing.  My mother was diagnosed in 2004, my grandmother in 2005, and an aunt has been battling it since 2006.  Everyone seems to fight this disease a different way.  It turns out that the style of the figther has little impact on the outcome of the fight.  Many fights aren’t necessarily about the fighters, however.  They are about the audience.  And I believe that to be the case with Mac & April’s fight.  Theirs was nothing short of a tactical training guide and demonstration on “How to Fight the Unknown with Courage, Love, Optimism, and (the secret weapon) Grace.”  Certainly their actions helped them enjoy the last two years, and I believe Mac will continue to use those same tactics in the months and years to come.  He’s a gifted fighter – skilled in the use of caring and gratitude.  Lucky for us, he and April decided to make Grace a not-so-secret weapon.  And what a show it was.  And is.

During the receiving of friends, I gave Mac a hug said, “I don’t know how you do it.  You must always carry a bit of extra grace around in your pocket because you always seem to pull it off.”  I was referring to the way he stood up and addressed a room full of tearful faces – all of which were trying to be strong by giving him warm and compassionate smiles.  He had clearly considered what he wanted to say though I know he never even considered rehearsing.  The delivery was on the money.  It was the perfect mix of humor, pain, and hope.  It was a lesson he had learned from April – a treasure he wanted to re-gift.  I wouldn’t do the gift justice by trying to quote it, so I’ll give you my version

Go out of your way to Love everyone you know.  Not flimsy greeting card love, but Love – the kind of love that comes when two souls combine so that joy in one brings joy to the other.  Intimate, romantic, Love.

If the song wasn’t so blasted popular, I’d start a campaign to change “Amazing Grace” to “Amazing Mac & April.” Even though it doesn’t roll off the tongue like a good tune should, it would be impossible for anyone who came in contact with April and Mac in the last two years to deny that they were the smiling, laughing, loving, compassionate, humble face of grace.  In fact, the song could simply be “Mac & April” because the adjective “Amazing” is just redundant.