Wishing Karma Was a Thing

Nobody asked me.

When the world was getting set up, nobody asked me how it should work. Maybe it would have been a good idea.

I don’t know all the history and meaning of what “karma” actually is. What I wish was a thing was if you put good out into the world, it will return to you. Similarly, if you’re a toad of a person, you’re probably going to get clunked by a foul ball at a baseball game.

There are some theological implications. If there’s an almost immediate, traceable consequence to every action, free will doesn’t really exist. Even when someone does a kind action, it would actually be selfish. I get that karma doesn’t really work.

Plus there’s the complicated issue of rating every action. You choose a shirt at the store– but it was made in a sweatshop. You have no way of knowing how it was made, though. You just know that the shirt says “Have a nice day,” so you buy it thinking that wearing it would earn lots of karma points.

So obviously not quite a simple world-running plan to implement.

But isn’t there something really satisfying about the thought of waving to someone with a flat tire who was just passing dangerously and cutting other people off in traffic?

I tried to think about an example going the other way. Like if you bake cookies for the firefighters, and then when you get home your toilets are magically clean. That seems silly. All my “good in the world” examples seem dumb. Let someone merge in traffic and get to work a few minutes early. Smile at a stranger in a store and find a checkout line with no wait.

Maybe I’m not so worried about the good coming back around as I am preventing the bad.

My dad has cancer.

There are a lot of vocabulary words that go along with it. Words we are now passionately googling and youtubing and memorizing. The worst of the words, though, we already knew.

Aggressive.

See, in my world, people who volunteer at the KC fish fry and install storm doors for little old ladies and carry the Eucharist to the shut-ins of the parish– maybe they don’t win the lottery, but at least they don’t get cancer.

The selfish people who lie and cheat — those guys get cancer. Because it offers an opportunity to reform and reconsider life choices. If the world starts doling out food poisoning and flat tires, then you know you need to do some thinking. If you get cancer– whoa, Nelly. You’ve got some big changes to make.

But what if you already understand what’s really important in life? What if you already get up early so you can make everyone breakfast? What if you got a car specifically so other people could borrow it? What if you make wooden dowel iguanas so your grandkids’ mittens dry better?

Then you don’t get cancer, and especially not the aggressive kind.

Don’t get me wrong. No one is perfect. In my karma-fied world we’d all find ourselves stubbing our toes or stepping on LEGOs occasionally. I’d lose my patience with my kids and then the dishwasher would break. While washing all the dishes by hand, I could think about how to be more patient.

My dad has the disconcerting habit of rushing people with a spoonful of mystery. “Here, try this!” he commands. And there’s usually nowhere to run. The only option is to open up while you wonder whether it’s a new variation of his chicken salad or some weird concoction of olives and frosting.

(For the record, it’s never been olives and frosting, but in that moment when your eyes are closed and you’re waiting for the spoon to hit, you just never know.)

He also really enjoys re-watching movies that probably weren’t that great the first time.

But see? Those are habits where maybe you sit down and tear a hole in your pants. Or the sole of your shoe detaches a little so you have to walk around all day with it flap, flap, flapping. Minor inconveniences in the karma world. You don’t end up with cancer.

But nobody asked me.

Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. Because if I was in charge everyone who bought anything at Starbucks would sprain an ankle as they left. (There are kids eating mud in Haiti so at least they can feel full! You don’t need a $5 cup of coffee, Karen. You need to sponsor a Haitian kid.)

Yeah– maybe it’s a good thing that nobody asked me.

So we’re left navigating this world where bad things *do* happen to good people. Where we open our mouths and take the mystery spoon life offers and hope for the best. Where we trust that even if we don’t see how this fits into God’s plan, that it actually does.

My dad single-handedly took down a silo. He is strong. He is stubborn. It’s too bad you can’t take cancer out with a sledgehammer, or we’d be past this in a few days. It’s going to be a challenge for him to be sick and weak. It’s going to be a challenge for us to watch.

“Well– at least Grandpa doesn’t have that much hair to lose!” one of my kids proclaimed. That’s true. He’ll start chemo next week.

Mateo’s middle name is my dad’s. But that’s not all that noteworthy. Out of six grandsons, four are named after him in some way.

I’m so glad I suggested this picture during our extended family session. I love how they match– except for Mateo’s spit-up stain. I love how they are looking at each other. I love how it shows that maybe there is a little bit of big-picture karma in the world.

If you choose life, if you choose to love even when it’s hard, there are ripples that span generations. If you make sacrifices and prioritize your family, you get to face all the silos and cancers of life with a whole team, a whole fan club of people who hold you in their hearts.

I guess there is beauty in a world where there isn’t any personal karma. Where if you knock down a little domino of kindness in the world, it doesn’t come back to you, but it does travel out and spread in unforeseeable ways.

If you could say a prayer for my dad and my mom, I would appreciate it. And if you’d say a prayer for the reform of all the meanies and jerks without cancer, that would be good, too. <3


December 2019 Update: It’s been seven months since the diagnosis. In that time my dad has tried two kinds of chemo, neither of which was effective, except against his hair. As my parents wait for insurance approval and try to make a Plan C with a new treatment, please continue to keep them in your prayers. Every day without treatment is an opportunity for increased tumor growth, so waiting is hard.