This is a thinking aloud post, well one of those that is especially so.

Many years ago I had a college tutor who was in her late fifties and nearing retirement.  She dreamed of returning to Africa, a continent where she had worked in her youth and where her heart still lay, if truth be told.  About a year before this plan could find expression, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  It seemed to me, and to those who knew her, unfair - this was to be her time after decades in the service of others and now it was to be denied. Never once did she complain or express a sense that this was unjust; she simply continued to be herself gracious, generous and much-loved.

A few years back one of my Dibley flock was diagnosed with a very aggressive cancer and showed similar quiet acceptance of her lot, never blaming life or God for came what her way.  Other people told me it was unfair and I concurred; even speaking of the sense of injustice at her funeral, but she never wavered (at least that I saw) in her response.

Now I find myself accepting without questioning that this has happened in my life.  Not in a naive way, not pretending this is some test of my faith or resolve (a naff God that would be), not denying my fear of the unknown or my desire and hope for good recovery.  But, like others before me, I can't name this as unfair.  And that's not so clever really, because I am surrounded by loving people who do name it as unjust, not for themselves and not for the church but for me.  Which makes life tricky, because pastorally they need to space to name it as they experience it, and I mustn't make them feel inadequate or guilty in their truth, a truth which in other circumstances I would share.

Maybe it is a matter of finding a way of holding together acceptance and injustice so that each is named, heard and affirmed without trivialising or demeaning either.  I'm not sure how to do that, but I'm willing to learn.