It has been an interesting journey the last couple of months as Bill and I have prepared classes. It has caused me to walk the full circle of life and its losses, joys and meaning. The mysteries of life become a little clearer once you walk right through the middle of them.
Recently I shared the book, Final Gifts, by Maggie Callahan and Patricia Kelley. I didn't know until a couple of days ago that my dad had left a final gift. I had already read through a box of letters Dad had saved. I found all of the letters I had written him when I was in college. I found the letters my oldest brother had written when he was away figuring out life and all of its complexities. And I found a stack of letters written by a brother when he was in the Navy during Desert Storm. I didn't read my brother's letters because they were a part of their private journey, but I hope they learned a few things about themselves after they received them.
Then a few days ago, I found another part of Dad's final gift. I found letters he had written to his parents. I especially love what he wrote to his dad, my grandfather, in 1960.
"The years fly by. I've gotten a lot of gray hairs already, but when those years are made up of a life well lived, one which follows the purpose of God, it is a joy to grow old. So you see, Dad, even though you are nearing fifty, it's still a wonderful life."
As I dug deeper into his old tin box I found even more treasures. I found a letter he had written to the president of a college in 1963. He shared his disappointment that the institution did not participate in the Day of Mourning For President John F. Kennedy. Another letter he had written was to a small town's board of education in 1964. The school had decided to cancel all school activities following the decision to integrate the school. Dad knew this would only lead to more dissension.
What strikes me, is the longevity of words. My father has been gone 16 years now. His political activism ended before that, but his words are still here. The words of the Gettysburg address are still ingrained in my mind from when I memorized them almost 45 years ago. The words of Scripture I have carried with me for 55 years.
Lately I have been very discouraged. I have looked for ways to relieve the discouragement but I have also found value in walking through it. As I read the words of history, and read the words of one man's perception of it, I am discouraged that as a people and a nation, we are still battling the same issues. We still battle prejudice, bigotry, marginalization, and a lack of grace. I doubt it will end this side of heaven, but we have to keep trying.
The fallacies of history, written in words, do not have to repeat themselves, but their wisdom can guide the way to something better. When I read the historical words of how we have treated people with disabilities, they are so close I can reach back and touch them. They were in our lifetime or at least the lifetime of our parents.
Someone once told me that gossip is like a big bag of feathers. The bag of feathers explodes and all of those feathers are spread all over town as the wind picks them up. Like gossip, we will never be able to gather all of those feathers again. Especially with the capabilities of the internet, our words can spread across the world in a matter of minutes, never to be retrieved.
Recently I shared the book, Final Gifts, by Maggie Callahan and Patricia Kelley. I didn't know until a couple of days ago that my dad had left a final gift. I had already read through a box of letters Dad had saved. I found all of the letters I had written him when I was in college. I found the letters my oldest brother had written when he was away figuring out life and all of its complexities. And I found a stack of letters written by a brother when he was in the Navy during Desert Storm. I didn't read my brother's letters because they were a part of their private journey, but I hope they learned a few things about themselves after they received them.
Then a few days ago, I found another part of Dad's final gift. I found letters he had written to his parents. I especially love what he wrote to his dad, my grandfather, in 1960.
"The years fly by. I've gotten a lot of gray hairs already, but when those years are made up of a life well lived, one which follows the purpose of God, it is a joy to grow old. So you see, Dad, even though you are nearing fifty, it's still a wonderful life."
As I dug deeper into his old tin box I found even more treasures. I found a letter he had written to the president of a college in 1963. He shared his disappointment that the institution did not participate in the Day of Mourning For President John F. Kennedy. Another letter he had written was to a small town's board of education in 1964. The school had decided to cancel all school activities following the decision to integrate the school. Dad knew this would only lead to more dissension.
What strikes me, is the longevity of words. My father has been gone 16 years now. His political activism ended before that, but his words are still here. The words of the Gettysburg address are still ingrained in my mind from when I memorized them almost 45 years ago. The words of Scripture I have carried with me for 55 years.
Lately I have been very discouraged. I have looked for ways to relieve the discouragement but I have also found value in walking through it. As I read the words of history, and read the words of one man's perception of it, I am discouraged that as a people and a nation, we are still battling the same issues. We still battle prejudice, bigotry, marginalization, and a lack of grace. I doubt it will end this side of heaven, but we have to keep trying.
The fallacies of history, written in words, do not have to repeat themselves, but their wisdom can guide the way to something better. When I read the historical words of how we have treated people with disabilities, they are so close I can reach back and touch them. They were in our lifetime or at least the lifetime of our parents.
Someone once told me that gossip is like a big bag of feathers. The bag of feathers explodes and all of those feathers are spread all over town as the wind picks them up. Like gossip, we will never be able to gather all of those feathers again. Especially with the capabilities of the internet, our words can spread across the world in a matter of minutes, never to be retrieved.
The words we say and the words we write have
the potential of lasting for hundreds of years.
the potential of lasting for hundreds of years.
May our words speak truth, love, compassion and grace.
