Next Blog

For some the "Next Blog" link in the toolbar at the top of each blogger site is meaningless and thus neglected, but for others like me it has led to evenings engrossed in the lives and stories of complete strangers. How many of you, like me, cannot resist that link? When I began my own blog I was still pretty ignorant to the blogosphere, but now have uncovered a subculture of online purging where people will pour out their emotions, joys, tragedies, and even their secrets. It is a phenomenon I am fascinated by and am sure if there are not books about this online therapy already on the shelves, then there soon will be.

When looking for domain names for this blog I tried out a few to see if they were already taken. One idea was "A Year in the Life". This site is already preoccupied by a Jenifer who posted only once back in 2003. Ironically she wrote, "Jenifer made a blog. If she built it, will they come?" She did and they didn't. (What a waste of a great domain name for a failed blog.) Another idea for a title I had was "The Lazarus Project" identifying with Jesus' friend Lazarus whom Jesus raises from the dead. This is one of my favorite Bible passages where after Lazarus exits the tomb, Jesus orders that Lazarus' grave clothes be removed. I love the picture of him stripping off the burial linens representing death and putting on new clothes as he enters back into life. A powerful picture for me as I strive to shake off all those burdens that keep me walking around half alive. This domain was also taken already as well. This person posted only twice back in 2005. What happened to her? She talks about coming back to life and experiencing a reawakening. Where is she now? Still feeling renewed, alive...or stuck back into those dark places of death?

These two blogs were my first small glimpses into the stories floating around the online universe. I'm not sure if the next blog link sends you to blogs with similar subject manner as your own by picking up key words from your posts. I'm assuming this is the case sometimes seeing as how when I was writing frequently about Hannah's cancer, the link sent me to multiple sites of families struggling with cancer as well. One night the link sent me to a site where the last post was from a wife expressing her gratitude to everyone who made it to her husband's visitation. My voyeuristic urges plunged me into the story of a school teacher, coach, and husband suffering from and subsequently dying from cancer. It was also a story of a husband and wife loving one another quietly, simply, and patiently in the anticipation of death and separation from each another. I read backwards chronologically, like reading the last page of a novel before beginning the actual story. We live our own stories without the benefit of already knowing how they end. We must sit back and watch them unfold in front of us. Enduring the unknown and mystery of what the future holds can be excruciating. I cannot understand how this couple must have felt living through their story as it occurred. I began with his death, their journey began with mere symptoms of a great disease. The voice I began with was hers, the wife's. As I continued my reading, I read posts written by him, the husband, back when he was strong enough to write, to type, to think. She had taken over for him when the sickness began to overtake him. But his voice was there in the beginning, reporting of treatments, blood counts, procedures. I had already read the posts where they had come to accept their course, his end. But there were posts written earlier that were still full of questions, confusion, the possibility of healing...and hope. I watched his demise in reverse. While in reality he became sicker, as I read backwards, his faculties returned along with his strength and resolve.

The blog was created as an information station for family and friends to track his illness as well as offer support. From what I gathered by reading the numerous comments left on each post, this man and his wife were well loved, not only by family, but by friends and students and former students. He impacted the lives of the kids he worked with both in the classroom as well as on the court as their coach. And now in his time of greatest need, they were there. "You can do it coach!" "We love you coach!" "You were my favorite teacher Mr. Z."

It was (is, I have to remember this was a real person, a true story. As far removed as you can become by invading someone's life online, one must remember that it still happened. He existed. He had a family, a wife, kids, friends. He was real and his story is real.)...it is a heart wrenching story, but I walked away from the site feeling privileged to have encountered a beautiful life. What I read was a collection of posts, some only a sentence or two with others filling my entire screen at once, but what I saw was a life well lived. I did not know him, or her, but I know about them. I know that he loved others and was loved in return. I know that she loved him and loved him passionately especially during hospice while waiting patiently, never rushing him, at the end. I know that he died with dignity and peace. I know that his absence is marked with sadness and loss.

I always feel guilty reading things I know weren't intended for my eyes. But maybe I shouldn't in some cases. I didn't intrude or disrespect this couple, this family, this community, but rather embraced their story with humility gleaning from them all that I could. Judging from Mr. Z's impact on those in his life, I think he would be proud but humbled to know that his life well lived impacted yet another person...stranger or not.

So beware of the next blog button. Not only may you find yourself in the middle of a powerful story being told by a fellow sojourner, but someone else may walk into your story. I'd love your thoughts on this post.