The Only People Without Interruptions Are Dead

* As updates on Hilary become less frequent, I’ll include them after the reflection. There’s one today.

I used to struggle with interruptions, a lot.

If I’m honest, I still do.

Years ago, I went through a phase where I radically pared down my life. If you’re familiar with the work of Cal Newport at all, like Digital Minimalism or Deep Work, I was fully in on an approach that attempted to ruthlessly eliminate anything I deemed a distraction—imagine the obsessive neighbor who cuts his lawn every day or washes that one car in the rain—almost comically over the top, but sort of inspiring?

In some ways, I’m grateful for such a season. I learned a lot about building boundaries in our home around technology. A certain craftsmanship and attention to detail is at the heart of my own values. Heck, I make my boys do habit charts every summer, with focused, creative work as one of the habits they track.

Nonetheless, I missed something.

Or more so, I mischaracterized some interruptions.

Surely, to live a completely distracted life with no boundaries would starve the world of great works of art or literature; scientific progress would surely take a step back. As someone attempting to write these words for the tenth time as my youngest plays with Legos on the floor of my office, I can attest to this.

Yet how many great works and life-giving opportunities have been inspired not because of a lack of interruptions, but due to their very existence?

As I reflect, I realize how short-sighted I once was—and still can be. Henri Nouwen’s words in Turn My Mourning into Dancing hit me the hardest:

I remember an old priest who one day said to me, “I have always been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted and then I realized that the interruptions were my work.”

I remember this from when I was a pastor. You’d finally sit down, no one in your office, with unfettered time to focus on what I perceived as my “real” work of study, when someone would suddenly show up at the church (and I’d subsequently say expletives to myself as I walked down the stairs—in the most Jesus-y way possible, of course).

For the longest time, such intrusions were what I raged against. But as I’ve already noted, I’ve begun to see that most of life is one interruption or another.

For example, to become a parent is to have your life suddenly disrupted by a being that will demand everything from you. But there is also no greater joy than when a kiddo cuddles up for a much-needed nap—an interruption that makes one’s heart sing.

Marriage is similar. The first night I met Hilary, my life was radically interrupted by a love that I had not known. (So much so, we got married four months later.) And even in the current pains of long appointments and deferred dreams, I’d do it all again.

Reality isn’t lived on some sterile, white-walled floor cut off from the outside world. It’s lived in the midst of the messiness of kids’ busy sports schedules, out-of-nowhere medical prognoses, and the many competing demands of work and life. To be interrupted is to be human—the only people without interruptions are dead.

If you really think about it, the incarnation of Jesus was an interruption. Into history. Into time and space. The divine making a dwelling in humanity.

Could anything be both messier and more mesmerizing?

“…but it has been the interruption to my everyday life that have most revealed to me the divine mystery of which I am part.”

- Henri Nouwen, Beyond the Mirror

Every interruption is preparing us for one final interruption: death. I know this sounds like a stretch, but our smaller reactions to the things that seem to rob us of our time are akin to how one processes the end of life.

Whether it be unfettered anger, throwing your fists up in fury like Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty—or an inner frustration that boils over when your child wakes you up to ask if they can play Switch at 5 AM (which is always a no)—there is a quiet rage when inconvenience rears its ugly head that parallels reactions to the grave.

Death differs a little, though, because this interruption doesn’t seem to end. It’s as Rose, a town elder in the HBO show True Detective, colorfully shares with a young deputy while burying his father:

I guess you’re thinking…the worst part is done. Mm, it’s not.

What comes after…forever…that’s the worst f*ckin’ part.

It is often thought that a funeral is the end, but as anyone who has lost someone knows, it is merely the beginning of a long series of switchbacks. Surely, the emotional whiplash, the sudden rising of emotions, can soften with time—but there are those moments that remind you of forever.

Nonetheless, the lens of faith puts forever in perspective. This momentary loss is seen not as an intrusion, but an interruption—not the cessation of existence, but a brief and passing pause that leads to the truest life ever known.

So, to be faithful in both life and death is to make oneself available to both the small, seemingly inconsequential interruptions and the prolonged interruptions. A human life is not only “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” as the Book of Common Prayer reads, but interruption to interruption.

As it is with Hilary’s cancer, God has been slowly teaching us that while this is far from ideal, it is an opportunity to deepen our love for one another and our boys, to embrace the gift of life, and to peer further into the mystery of God.

Could anything be more consequential?

Reflection — What is one way you’ve been interrupted recently that has become a surprising source of connection, inspiration, or grace? Leave a comment or respond. I’d love to hear!

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Like a ship casting off for a long voyage, we’ve officially begun radiation. Admittedly, our first day was a long one as we had appointments for most of the day. Nonetheless, Hilary handled it well—and is in good spirits.

The boys also had a fun week. It was our annual “Dad Camp,” which always takes place the week before football season begins. I keep a running log of the random assortment of things they’ve said they want to do over the summer, and we more or less go and do them.

My favorite was their request to go to Arby’s. They kept repeating the phrase, “We have the meats,” from the commercials, so I caved. What can I say? I grew up on five roast beef sandwiches for five dollars. If you know, you know.

Lastly, Ephraim officially began his first season of tackle football! It was fun to see him smiling and competing. He said his favorite part was the end-of-practice conditioning competitions—especially the bear crawls—which I used to love too.

If you’ve missed any of our updates, you can catch up here: how we got here, surgery, her return home, her healing journey, her cancer prognosis, her treatment process and the specifics of radiation.

Our world has been turned upside down rather quickly, so thank you for your patience and grace as we’ve been learning what this season demands.

For those who have asked how they can bring us a meal: A close friend created a Meal Train for our family. You can find it here.

For those who have asked how they can follow along: If you’d like to receive updates, you can subscribe below.

For those who have asked how they can support us financially: If you’d like to support our family financially, you can do so via Venmo: @hilary-horn

Our whole family saw Spider-Man: Brand New Day.

We had a blast.

After rewatching most of the movies, this is for sure the most Peter Parker-centric of the Tom Holland films. The first three largely played as connective tissue for the larger Marvel machine. So it was fun to see this movie entrench itself more in the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man side of things.

Now, this is also where my main critique lies.

* Spoiler Warning *

The introduction of Jean Grey (from the X-Men—played wonderfully by Sadie Sink from Stranger Things) creates a larger subplot that takes some of the focus off Tom Holland’s neighborhood Spider-Man. Some of the best parts of Spider-Man are the quirky, localized villains (almost always scientists with “great man” syndrome). It was for sure a setup for something bigger, which echoes some of the recent issues with Marvel after Endgame.

Did I love seeing her introduced?

Absolutely.

But I’d still love to see a more self-contained story.

What a BRO-mance!

A friend pointed this out after seeing Spider-Man—and we had just seen The Odyssey together at our monthly movie night.

It all makes sense now.

Jon Bernthal + Tom Holland in The Odyssey AND Spider-Man in the same summer.

The bromance continues 😂