Living Till We Die

"O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
   Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
   And shivering sweet to the touch?
O why do do you walk through the fields in gloves,
   Missing so much and so much?
    --Frances Cornford

I was asked to speak at a Senior Adult dinner this week. When they asked me what I would talk on I said, “I think I’ll talk about ‘What I Want to be When I Grow Up.’” As the time grew closer I remembered something I saw on 20/20 years ago. There were several studies made of why some people live longer than others. They discovered that people were healthier when they had four distinct qualities in their lives:
                  1. A sense of belonging
                  2. An ability to deal with losses
                  3. A positive outlook
                  4. A useful belief system

And so I told the group that maybe I was sticking to my stated subject after all. For these are the qualities I would like to have in my life when I grow up.

A sense of belonging.

We’ve all been in that most uncomfortable spot where we felt like an outsider. One of my favorite poets is a man named Alden Nowlan who knew something about the need to belong. He was abandoned by his parents—they just gave him away and you can imagine what that must have done to him. But he turned his pain into poetry. He tells in one of his poems that a friend of his visited a home for people with special needs. The man was part of a band that came to play and the crowd greeted them like rock stars. His friend said that at the end of the program a woman who must have been 25—sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. He was pretty uncomfortable. And then she whispered, “Hold me. Hold me.” What do you do? He put his arms around her and she said, “Hold me tighter.” And reluctantly he did. And Nowlan ends his poem like this:

       “It’s what we all want, in the end,
        to be held, merely to be held,
        to be kissed (not necessarily with the lips,
        for every touching is a kind of kiss.)    

       Yes, it’s what we all want, in the end,
       not to be worshipped, not to be admired,
       not to be famous, not to be feared,
       not even to be loved, but simply to be held.”

It’s what we all want—to be connected—not to be left out. But I think it also means that we all have the task of making sure that those we brush shoulders with never feel like outsiders. Maybe just reaching out to others—we will find our own connections.

An ability to deal with our losses.

We all like to say hello—but few of us do not like to say goodbye. But dealing with the painful experience of saying goodbye is a basic part of life.

In September 1953 morning I was going off to college—my mother came home from work and helped me finish packing. I was riding to school with a friend. He drove up in his car and I took my bags to put them in his trunk. My mother stood on the porch—she didn’t come down to the car—she didn’t want me to see her crying. She just waved from a distance. I was her oldest and she was letting me go. She knew what I would not know for a long, long time—saying goodbye is a painful experience. And I understood when my daughter went off to college…when my son went off to school…and the house was empty. I knew the painful wrenching away when I walked my daughter down the aisle…and later when I stood beside an open grave and said goodbye to the woman who had waved from me on the porch.

All of life is learning to let go—to deal with our losses. Every church I ever had was hard to leave. When I left South Carolina after 13 years one of my good friends handed me a note on the last Sunday I was there. It was a quote from something Katherine Mansfield had written: “How hard it is to escape from places! However carefully one goes, they hold you—you leave bits and pieces of yourself fluttering on the fences, little rags and shreds of your very life.” Dealing with all our necessary—and unnecessary losses is part of life—hard though it may be.

A positive outlook.

Isn’t it always perspective--how we look out at the world? And there is a whole lot today to make us wonder if the sky really is falling. TV, newspapers—radio commentators—TV preachers—they go on and on and on. And if we keep listening all this negativism it is going to seep into our souls.

In studying World War II I have been intrigued particularly the way the people in England faced those hard days. From September 7, 1940 until May 10, 1941 the Germans bombed London for 76 consecutive days. At the end of that May 43,000 of their citizens had been killed and over a million houses had been destroyed. How does one live in such a terrible setting? Winston Churchill helped save the day when he told his people: “ Never, never, never give up.” And they didn’t. It’s attitude. I’m not talking about denying reality—but I am talking about living hopefully even when everything seems hopeless.

A useful belief system.

I can’t understand this assault from some quarters today on faith. Quasi-intellectuals are pooh-poohing all faiths. Much of what they despise about religion is right on target. Religion does have a dark side—but this is only a partial truth.

We all need something to keep us going. And the older I get so much of what I counted important through the years doesn’t seem to be quite as important after all. When Jesus was asked what were the greatest commandments he said, “Love God—love your neighbor.” It sounds easy until you begin to put it into practice. But many of us have learned that when we have reached out to help somebody else—we have seen the face of God.

Jim Wallis tells that in his inner city of Washington they feed hungry people every day. And as they line up outside, the workers have a prayer. And one morning one of the servers prayed: “Lord, when you come through the line this morning help us to see your face.”

I’m also beginning to understand the importance of gratitude. So much of my life has been frittered away by forgetting the graces of my life. Someone said that we ought to say a grace over everything we do. When we get out of bed in the morning—even though our backs may hurt—thank God. Shuffling into the kitchen and drinking that first cup of coffee—thank God. Eating that little old bowl of bran cereal or oatmeal—we say a thanks. Looking out the window at the trees, the grass, listening to the birds and even looking at the pouring rain—we thank God. My belief system is including being more aware of the wonders around me.

Another plank I’m working on in my belief system is kindness. When William James’ nephew was going off to school, he asked he famous uncle if he had any words of advice. “Just three—William James said, “Be kind…be kind…be kind.” We are living in a mean-spirited world. With all the frustrations and fears people are showing their teeth more and more. Everyone we meet is having a hard time--what better way to move through the world than to practice kindness wherever we go.

Maybe we make our lives too complicated. Perhaps we all need to simplify. Jesus said the kingdom of God was like a mustard seed, yeast that works silently in dough, a treasure hidden in a field. No wonder faith has so many enemies today. We have covered up the wonders of what God has laid out with a multitude of things that just do not matter. Let us not be like that character in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. Emily dies is childbirth but is allowed to return to earth one day and at the end of that day she said, “All that was going on and I didn’t even know.”