"DECADES" SERVICE

Sunday, January 6, 2008

"Your One Wild and Precious Life"

Rev. Alicia Forde led our annual "Decades" service on this first Sunday of the new year.  We sang together, joined in meditation; and shared with one another our joys and concerns.  Then Rev. Forde told us that she had invited several members of the congregation, each from a different decade of life, to respond to the question: "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"  She prefaced their remarks with these words:

To celebrate the new year speakers from the various generations of life have been invited to speak on what they want to do with their lives.  What a good way for this church community to begin the new year, hearing from children, youth, young adults, middle aged and older ones.

As we listen to their hopes, we get in touch with our own, and we recognize the good people with whom we share the journey.

What a good thing it would be if each person had friends in each decade of life.  What better place to make friends across the generations than at church!

The new year invites us, individually and as a community, to be true to ourselves, stretch and grow and reach to be the best we are capable of being.

No matter who you are, no matter what you are, the poet Mary Oliver raises for you a question:

Who made the world?

       Who made the swan, and the black bear?

       Who made the grasshopper?

       This grasshopper, I mean—

       the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

       the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

       who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--

       who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

       Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

       Now she snaps her wings open and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

       I do know how to pay attention,

       how to fall down into the grass,

       how to kneel down in the grass,

       how to be idle and blessed,

       how to stroll through the fields,

       which is what I have been doing all day.

                    (Mary Oliver's The Summer Day)

Then the other participants spoke:

Decade 0-10: Jack V. (and his mother Angie V.)

 I'm Angie and this is Jackson.  We're going to talk together about what Jackson plans to do with his one wild and precious life.  Right now Jackson is very dependant on all of the adults around him, including me, his mom, his dad, grandparents and other adults in our community.  He's turning 4 years old at the end of this month.  Now so far I would definitely describe Jack's life as wild and precious, as well as energetic, curious, sweet and a little crazy.  He has his whole life in front of him.  So let's have a little fun and find out what Jack plans to do with his one wild and precious life.

Angie: So Jack, let's start with what you're doing with your wild and precious life right now.  What kinds of things do you do?

Jack: Play! Go to preschool!

Angie:  What do you think you'll be doing when you're daddy's age?

Jack: I don't know.

Angie: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Jack: Astronaut

Jackson is in a unique place in his life.  He has every opportunity is available to him.  As his mom, I hope that no matter what he does he is happy.  That he enjoys his journey and brings joy to those he meets along the way.  So far, I think he's doing a wonderful job!

Decade 20-30: Amy Bullock

What will I do with my life?  That seems to be a fairly easy question.  Except for that pesky thing called planning.  I'm not a fan of planning or schedule making.   Spontaneity seems to work best for me.  I'm a Pisces, if that means anything to anyone.  Basically, I'm a daydreamer, with big dreams but no real plan to follow through.  There's that "planning" word again.  It just doesn't work for me.

You see, it's not that I haven't planned things before.  When I graduated high school I had a plan.  It was to move to Decatur Georgia and try my hand at that crazy thing called the music business.  I played my guitar 3-4 hours everyday, had written a few songs and was eager to be a starving independent artist.  That plan was postponed.  Instead, my mother already had had a life plan laid out for me.  She was so convincing.  Go to college, get a degree, have a back-up.  Be responsible.  She wanted me to go to school for business and be an accountant just like my brother.  I tried that.  I did well.  I hated every moment of it.   But, I decided to continue the college path, having a back up seemed responsible.  I started studying communications and art.  I did well at that too, and I actually enjoyed it.  But the money ran out, so I got a crappy job to keep going and then I met Jenny and we got a house and bills and work took over my school time and then life took over my guitar playing time.  So the backup plan.  Well, it's non-existent.  So much for responsibility.  So much for the best laid plans…

So, what about my life from this point?  What do I expect to do with it?  Well, I'm going to continue to not make plans and just live day by day, taking in the best and worst of each and every thing, everyone.  I'm going to find peace within myself.  I'm going to open myself to new experiences, to new people.  I'm going to keep laughing.  I'm going to keep searching for truth and meaning in what I do.  I'm going to keep telling my family and friends how much they matter to me and that I love them with my whole heart and soul.  I'm going to keep listening to and making music, and maybe someday that first plan will come back around.  

So…

Here's to my adventure and here’s to yours! 

Decade: 30-40: A. B.

I have been thinking a lot about this question over the past year or so.  And since I just turned thirty yesterday, it is a good time for me to reflect on what I want to achieve.

My answer to this question has changed quite a bit from just a few years ago.  At that point, academic and career accomplishments were what I strived for.  I didn't necessarily enjoy what I was doing, but I felt that the sacrifice would make me happy in the future.  I hoped that somewhere down the road I wouldn't be so stressed and I could actually pursue what I enjoyed.  Recently, I realized that that time would never come until I make it happen myself.  I realized that there is never a perfect time to make big changes in life.  It just has to be done.

After my child was born last year this, helped me to realize what was actually fulfilling in my life.  It wasn't degrees, career accomplishment, or places in the world I’ve been...all experiences I valued, but didn't truly make me happy.  Some were even sources of significant stress in my life.  Recently, I decided to work part-time in order to spend more time with my child and at home.  This may not seem like a drastic change for some, but it was huge for me and has inspired me to make other changes to become the person I want to be.

I want to continue to find happiness through a less hectic life, practice patience for people I disagree with, and participate in activities that improve my community.  Most of all I want to continue to spend more time with my family, and to live for today instead of dwell on the past or obsess about the future.

Decade 50-60: Cindy Black

 How do I want to spend the rest of my life? 

Love comes to mind first.  I want to spend the rest of my life doing God’s will.   I believe in a totally loving God and that He wants me to be loving and kind to others.   

I want to continue to be of service to others. I have done this as a nurse for 33 years, but I would like to broaden that service to every aspect of my life.  Considering other people’s needs before my own is a quality I strive to achieve. 

Relationships have become very important to me.  Fermor getting cancer in 2005 was a wake up call for me.  Our relationship is stronger than ever because when we were confronted with a life threatening illness it made us realize what is important in life.  Love is what is important . . . plain and simple. 

Living in the present and BEING present to enjoy each gift of life is how I want to spend the rest of my life. Acknowledging a beautiful sunrise . . . watching the birds and squirrels in my back yard . . connecting with my cat . . .are all ways to enjoy life moment by moment.  And for all this I am grateful.

Decade 60-70: John Lewis

Truth be told, for the last 7 days, I've been living the wild and precious life of my daughter as she takes multiple flights from California to Afghanistan.  Suzanne is starting a 4-1/2 month nursing assignment at Bagram Air Force Base.  Her life will consist of work, sleep, eat, danger, and more work.

My life?  Well, recently two words come to mind -- vulnerable and awkward.

When I took delivery of 5,000 copies of my book last summer, I was so excited.  Then it hit me:  post-publishing blues.  I felt waves of responsibility flash through my body.  I also felt a sense of urgency.  After all, I had 12,000 pounds of books in my garage.  Where are those 5,000 recipients?  I told myself to take it easy and let sales grow organically.  I need to celebrate sales and accept rejection.  However, rejection has been harder to accept that I anticipated.  I put a lot of sweat and blood in writing it.  To me a book like a piece of art is fundamentally an act of sharing.  When my gesture is not reciprocated, I feel vulnerable and inadequate.  But, am I going to give up?  Heck no.

Believe it or not, I'm been on this planet for 63 years.  I remember as a child that if I ever lived to the next century, I would be really, really old.  Well, here I am and, let me tell you, that it's an awkward age for me.  I'm too young to sell the house, get an RV, and start collecting state stickers.  I'm too old to have the wide-eyed enthusiasm of younger people.  I also know from personal experience that my physical condition can change in a heartbeat or rather missing a heartbeat.

In the interest of time, I'll share with you some short answers to difficult questions.  For the next three years, at least, I'm planning to:

1. continue helping people buy and sell real estate,

2. continue selling my book,

3. continue writing,

4. continue managing our investment and retirement portfolios,  (In an odd way, investing in stocks is one way for me to be a part of the world.  I like to buy pieces of companies that I believe are doing good things, but I also must confess that I buy companies that capitalize on our addiction to earth's resources.)

5. and, lastly, continue fishing in whispering creeks and camping in silent woods.

As some of you know, Marcia and I drove to Las Vegas in November.  On the way back, we went via the Navajo Indian Reservation.  On one of those long legs, I remember lapsing into existential angst.  Does anything make any difference in the end?  Hasn't it all been done before?  Who cares?  Now what?  After considerable conversation, I assured Marcia that even if I don't know exactly what I'm going to do, don't worry, I'll make it up.  Thanks for listening.

Decade 70-80: Barbara Fleming

Almost two years ago I woke up one morning in a hospital bed, encumbered by various medical devices and surrounded by anxious family members. I had, I learned, come through the valley of the shadow after the shock to my system of a burst appendix, and for several more days I remained in intensive care. Alive thanks to modern medicine, a highly skilled surgeon, and the power of love, I spent  many days in the hospital, unable to concentrate enough to read, lacking the energy to make conversation, and finding television less than diverting. I had hours and hours to think.

Having come slap up against my own mortality, I discovered again how truly precious, how wild and wonderful life is, and I came to some decisions about how I wanted to spend what was left of mine. At 70, I knew my time was short, and I knew that regrets and recriminations had no place in it.

I found that I no longer was willing to involve myself in activities because someone else wanted me to; I would, rather, choose with care how I used my talents and skills.  No more “shoulding” on myself.  I have enough of my New England mother in me that it’s all too easy for me to be task-oriented and duty driven. When I recovered, I promised myself, I would spend time with people I care about whenever I could, go to the mountains more often, read, play bridge, enjoy music and my cat, write, sing in the choir, and find a reason, every day, to laugh.  For sheer indulgence: thank goodness for chocolate. For character-building: I would work on being kinder, more generous, less critical and judgmental.  I would try to do good deeds if I could but not punish myself if I failed. For personal growth: I thought about the mistakes I’d made throughout my life, the hurt I’d caused, my poor choices over the years, and I resolved to repair relationships where possible, bite back hurtful words, make decisions more thoughtfully. I would, I decided, say the words that can so often stick in the throat – the words of love, of gratitude, of praise. 

I’ve learned, in the time since this life-changing event, how easy it is to let the dailiness of living, the urgency of necessity, overpower my profound thoughts while ill. No one can live intensely every moment – but, I ask myself, have I told my husband how much he has enriched my life, how steadying it is to know I am loved, regardless of whether I am deserving or not? Do my children know how very proud I am of them, how much I love them? Does my family know how grateful I am to have them? Do my friends know how deeply I treasure them? Does this congregation know how integral the church is to my life? Have I made a difference, helped anyone, done anything beneficial to be remembered for? Have my actions, my choices, reflected the religious principles I espouse? Have I grown as a person? I don’t know what is in others’ hearts. What I do know is that I try; I forgive myself and hope others forgive me when I fall short, which is often, and I will keep trying to live those promises I made to myself.

Dreams die; some longings will never be fulfilled. No matter -- at almost 72, I feel grateful for each day that I wake up and can function; I plan for a future but try to live in the moment. I more often speak the words of love and gratitude and praise. Despite the unavoidable stresses of life – whoever called these the golden years must have lived in a mansion, with no money worries, servants to attend to every need and no problems or conflicts  – I am happier now than I was before this traumatic event happened to me. I look forward to each day with the knowledge that it is a gift, to be lived as richly as circumstances allow. These years might not be golden, but as long as they remain interesting and rich with friendship, love and satisfaction, as long as I can answer to myself, what’s left of my life will be the best I can make it to be.

                  As the service closed, members of the congregation joined hands and sang:

                                                 "May we have safe passage."