I am an avid compiler of quotes and seem to acquire them from all sorts of sources. Sometimes they speak directly to me and sometimes they are a prompt for other ideas. In a random search on the internet, I came upon the one above and it put me in mind, too, of Mary Oliver’s existential question about what we intend to do with our one wild and precious life.
I am sitting in a winter sunspot in my lounge room and have been thinking and writing about what it means to live a life of purpose and meaning. I am working my way towards an answer, this life-work-in-progress, and think that perhaps the answer is in engagement and curiosity and lifelong-long learning. It is also in spreading our love and our talents and our kindness, as Tennessee Williams notes, as far and wide as we can. That may well be in our family circle or it may be to neighbour or stranger.
I am reminded by loss that my days are getting shorter. And as I recognise the truth of that statement it seems I have so much I still want to do. I also know that I no longer have the same energy as I once had so I have to parcel out my projects a little more strategically.
I am reminded of the gift of each and every life and the loss of possibility and promise when a child or young person dies. The death of someone reaching their middle-aged best life and sharing their talent is also a loss to all who benefit from their accrued wisdom and experience. Their deaths may be in warfare or accident or illness and all are heartbreaking.
Earlier today, I was reading about the deaths on a capsized boat in Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, one of the natural wonders of the world. Three months ago I was on one such boat celebrating my brother’s 60th birthday and glorying in the beauty of people and places around me. Later in the morning, I was told of the death of a former colleague, a talented artist and a lovely woman, who shared her talent generously with others.
I am more than ever reminded of the preciousness and fragility of life. I sometimes want those vagabond years of my early twenties back, those years of itinerant work and passing through and the small wildnesses of travelling when young. But I am a lot older and a little wiser and can look back with gratitude on those adventures and travel now with more planning and preparation. I do not want to waste these days but am determined to colour them in with new hues and a quirky mix of the predictable and the unexpected.
I have noted previously that we are often reminded to glorify God with our lives. Around me I see wonderful unsung work being done, the loving of stranger and neighbour, by those who spread their love, talent and kindness and make the world a little gentler. In Bendigo, my friend, Robbie, makes personalised quilts for members of the Australia Defence Force. When she sends them off she includes packets of Tim Tams and Cherry Ripes and stories of what is happening at home.
Last weekend, I read some of the thank you notes from all ranks of service men and women. Their replies are heartfelt. They are grateful that someone has bothered. They miss being home but are encouraged by this connection. Those quilts will be looked after with love. I have the one she made for my marriage, still as bright and warm as it was when she made it, with love, over thirty years ago.
Two of my dearest school friends are volunteering locally. One helps refugee women learn English as their children attend Friday night school in Richmond. The other visits Mary MacKillop each week to chat to the residents, to be a cheerful and interested audience for their reminiscences. She told me that this gives her the greatest satisfaction. She also helps prepare students for the sacraments. My sister spreads her love by looking after her grandchildren one day a week on days off from teaching. I witness so much goodness around me and then I read about an epidemic of loneliness.
It seems to me that simply joining in or helping out in whatever capacity one can is a good way of making lonely days a little brighter.
We have much to be grateful for, wherever we are in our life stage. We have this one shot at all the glorious things of life. On my desk I have my laminated copy of What you are is God’s gift to you, What you become is your gift to God. We owe him our best effort, to make each day matter, to spread the love in our own spheres, to mark our lives as unique and precious, even if no longer wild.
My morning offering is not always eloquent but it always a prayer of gratitude. I thank God for the day I have in front of me and the way it will be filled with things planned and then the delights of surprise and serendipity. I am running towards my life, as so many of us are, giving it my best shot.
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David Rush says:
Such a thoughtful article to make us stop and think about life and how we might best use our talents