Garden in a Dorm Room

Nineteen days to go. I had been counting since 200 something. It was May in New York, adn spring fever, combined
with graduation jitters, had everyone buzzing.
The weather had been georgus for over a week – a warm wind blew softly through the trees, the pond lapped gently
at it’s banks, and a brand new generation of geese were just beginning to shed their down.
Inside, the chaos encompassing my apartment clashed obscenely with the serenity of the outer world. Boxes lined the
halls, and were stacked nearly to the ceiling in the bedroom.
It was spring – A time of kite flying, of spring cleaning, of lazy days spent fishing....of studying for finals and living
on the bare essentials as the contents of my apartment began to be tucked away into their crates. Yes, Life was
steamrolling straight into summer for our little campus community, and the days ahead gleamed like the sun in our
bring spring sky.
The annual children’s musical was coming together nicely, after what seemed like endless weeks of rehersal. ”Fish Tales”
was the title, and i had been cosen to create a whimsical lake-side enviornment that would be assembled on the stage.
This, though it began simply, was proving to be a larger undertaking than any of us had originally intended. Not only
did two ten foot high stage backdrops have to be painted and hung, but a usable dock, a boathouse, and a waterfront
[complete with catchable fish!] had to be constricted on the stage.
We were all exausted – going to school all day, studying for finals, and working on the set far into the night. Sleep
deprivation was setting in, our patience was gone, and EVERYONE just wanted to slow down and enjoy the spring.
Life had gotten so hectic that i hadn’t seen Her in over a wek...which was unusual, considering that we were both
neighbours and best friends. Yes, we had the rare privledge of spending two years of our lives in close geographical
proximity to each other. Those two years would abrubtly come to an end in less than a month, which made every day
all teh more important. So when a week had passed without seeing or hearing from Her, I became a bit concerned.
Hopping on the elevator, i rode downstairs to her apartment and rang the doorbell. After what seemed like an eternity,
the door opened, and i knew something was terribly wrong.
There she stood, face red and eyes puffy, shoulders sagging and spirit noticibly wracked by inner turmoil. She opened
the door and moved aside wordlessly, and as the door shut behind me, she quietly began to cry.
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Still in silence, we moved through the apartment – She trapped in whatever it was that seemed to be chewing her up
inside, and me...well, my mind was racing. She was always the strong one. I’d never seen her cry. Ever. What was so
tormenting her? Little did i know that what was about to happen would change our friendship, and more importantly,
her life, forever.
We reached her bedroom, at the very back of the apartment, and sitting on the bed, she stroked her cat. With tear-filled
eyes, she said quietly, ”if anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Nautica, right?” My heart sank into my chest,
and she sobbed.
Again, we sat in silence for several minutes, then finally, she spoke. ”They’re testing me for Lieukemia.”
Time stopped. thoughts and emotions creened around me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t spak, couldn’t move. Sitting
there with what seemed like lead weights around me, i wept with her, unable to do anything else.
Precious little was said that evening. We tried to watch our usual sunday evening programme, ”Strong Medicine”, but
our hearts just weren’t in it. She couldn’t focus, standing up, sitting down, pacing the floor....and I....i felt like i could
crawl right out of my skin.
Going home, my mind whirled...why her? why now? God, i thought, she’s endured so much already...why are you
doing this?
In the privacy of my room, i began to pray. Prayers that would continue in their intensity over the course of of the
next three days. The results would come on Wednesday, and since i had promised not to tell a soul, all i could do was
pour out my heart to a God whose love and motives i was begining to question.
Although my world seemed to have stopped, monday came, schedules resumed, and life hurtled on at what seemed
to be a breakneck speed. Full of nervous energy, i threw myself into set design, working into the wee hours, painting,
building, crying, praying, wondering what wednesday would bring, desperately wishing that both of us could go back
to the normalcy we had known such a few short weeks ago.
Tuesday night was fitful – sleep alluded me, and morning found me pacing back and forth in the theatre, as i stared
blankly at the nearly completed set. Returning home to take a quick shower, i looked up at our building and cought a
glimpse of Her in the window. When i got in, i phoned...but she didn’t answer.
Somehow, the morning hours managed to creep by, and lunchtime found me almost unexpectedly. Stomach knotted,
unable to sit or eat, I wandered the halls, finally landing outside the campus chapel.
I often found myself at these doors. In times of sadness, frustration, or pain, the soft white keys of the grand piano
beconed me, and my emotions would pour out in musical prayer. Today, as i entered my place of solitude, i spied a
form sitting alone in the semi-darkness. It was Her, sitting alone in the first pew.
Gingerly, i approached, unsure of what to do when i reached her. She hadn’t heard me approach, so she jumped when
my hand brushed her shoulder.
”Are you okay?” A rediculous question...but all i could muster in that moment. There was no answer. I slipped into
the pew beside her, arm around her shoulders, silently praying for the wisdom to know what to say.
”Can i pray with you?” Silence. Then, simply Her name. Finally, a whisper...”I have to do this myself. Just pray for
me while i’m at the doctors this afternoon...but right now, i need to be alone.”
Wordlessly, i hugged her, and quietly walked away. She would be at the doctors at three thirty...two hours to go. I
couldn’t just wander for two hours...i’d go crazy. For the second time, the feeling of wanting to crawl out of my own
skin threatened. Again, i headed for the theatre. Ther was still work to be done before opening night.
Keeping an eye on the clock, i busied myself with cutting and magnatizing dozens of styrofoam fish. After nearly a
dozen, my alarm beeped. It was quarter past three. It was time.
Stopping in the washroom to clean my hands, i glanced in the mirror. God, I looked so tired. As i reached the chapel, i
was releived to find it quiet and empty. I knelt at the alter and began to pray, attempting to form my jumbled thoughts
and emotions into something understandable.
What was wrong with me? My body ached, my thoughts groped around my mind as though lost in a fog. ”Lord, be
with her...” I prayed, and with that, i fell asleep, right there at the alter.
I woke with a start, pain shooting down my legs. How long had i been there? Nearly half an hour. Clearly, this was
not the place for me to focus. Gingerly stretching my limbs, i decided to go home, wash up, brew some coffee, and
pray there.
Off i went, muttering silent prayer statements the entire way. Upon reaching my apartment, I washed my hands, put
coffee on to brew, and sank down in one of the straight backed kitchen chairs. Here, i thought....smelling coffee and
not too comfortable....the perfect place to do some serious praying. Again, i settled in and began to pray...and again,
sleep overtook me.
This was not good. I roused myself and began to pace feircely. Why was this so difficult? What was wrong? why
couldn’t i keep the one promise i had made to my best friend?
Wandering into my bedroom, i noticed my bed – large, inviting, it beconed to me, and like the call of the ancient
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sirens, i was drawn in. I collapsed on the mattress, and there i slept.
The hot evening sun blazed through my window, shining in my eyes and rousing me from my slumber. I stretched,
and as my eyes glimpsed the clock, i bolted upright. 5:30 PM!!!! Throwing off the quilt, i ran, paniked, out the door
and into the parking lot. The van was still missing, the empty space looming like a black hole in an asphalt universe.
Again, overtaken by nervous energy, i took refuge in the theatre. 12 hours til opening night, and still so much to be
done. I drug the two backdrops over to davidson, unrolled them in the large empy multipurpose room, and began to
create a bright blue sky with my rollers and brushes.
I was almost finished when Colonel Lowman appeared in the window and beckoned me to come outdoors. As i stepped
outside to greet her, i saw her tear-filled eyes, and i knew.
”she tested positive, didn’t she?”
A nod. Then nothing. My mind went blank, and i sank to the pavement, unable to move or think.
One year ago today, my best friend was diagnosed with Lieukemia, and her world stopped. Later that evening,
Colonel Lowman told me, and i thought my world would stop too, but that didn’t happen. Over the next several
weeks, i lived in a dim foggy minded state of existance, almost mechanical in my daily activities, but life continued.
The set was finished, finals ended, and I even graduated. Slowly, my friend began to accept this new stage of her life,
and then even began to battle back against the disease. Graduation weekend ended, and i moved away...ending our
two years of being an elevator ride away.
Often though, especially in the early days, i had to wonder....what if i had stayed awake? Would things have turned
out differently?
One day, as i was watching the telly, and advert showing the garden of Gathsemene flashed across the screen. There,
in the center, were the disciples, fast asleep, while Christ wept and agonized over his impending death. I wondered to
myself...as they stood at the foot of the cross and looked up at the bloody, beaten, battered Christ, did they wonder
if things might have been different if they had just stayed awake and prayed. Would events have unfolded differently
had they kept their promises to THEIR friend and teacher?
No. In reality, the events surrounding the crucifixion remain the same, and just as God ordained the salvation of
humankind, he also ordains our futures. He could have chosen to spare my friend the diagnosis of cancer, but He
didn’t. It is in moments like these when faith on our part is required. We may not see the clarity of His plan through
the fog of our own trials, but that doesn’t mean we don’t know it’s there.
One year later, Tracy is Lieukemia free, and has grown and thrived in ways she never dreamed possible. And I? I
finally amd able to put pen to paper once again, free of guilt, with a new appreciation of our friendship, and a unique
perspective of Gathsemene....the Garden in a Dorm Room.