Have Courage and Be Kind
Affirmation: I live a Christ centered life of love, hope, peace, gratitude and compassion.
Louise Penny, the author of the crime novels about Three Pines, Canada and Inspector Gamache came to Meredith College in September of this year, 2015 to promote her newest book, The Nature of the Beast. It’s her twelfth book in this series. The auditorium was full. I guessed there to be about 300 people there. I became a fan a few years back when one of the women in my book group, Anne Brill, recommended Mrs. Penny’s work. My husband, Sandy and I like to listen to a good book if we have an extended drive and I purchased The Beautiful Mystery for us several years ago. We were immediately hooked. We can’t wait for our next long trip to delve into the newest novel and to be reunited with the inspector and the rest of our new “friends.”
Louise didn’t really speak about her books because she said she might give away some of the story line which she felt would interfere with her reader’s enjoyment. Instead she spoke about her
journey to becoming a successful writer. It wasn’t an unusual story. It took her a long time and required quite a bit of stamina and also a few serendipitous events. One event revolved around a fundraiser in a foreign country where she met her publisher, the only person with whom she had an encounter during the whole night. Her whole story was interesting but the message with which I came away was about “kindness.”
She said she modeled the inspector after her husband. If you’ve read any of her work you will know the inspector is a wonderful man. He is a family man, he cares deeply about his coworkers and he rises above the call of duty to a place of kindness and compassion. What a gift to have someone in your life like that, and especially the person with whom you’ve chosen to spend your life. I know it’s a gift because I too have a husband like that. When she spoke about the qualities these men exemplify she focused on kindness. It was a short sentence but it emphasized to
me the power of words. “It is easier to be mean than it is to be kind.” Well, I thought, isn’t that the truth!
Don’t you love it when the same message repeats itself in your life? Why, I wonder am I hearing this concept on a regular basis. What is God or simply the Universe trying to tell me? What more am I to learn? Over the last two weeks the phrase, “have courage and be kind” has appeared two more times. I bet you didn’t know that those were Cinderella’s mother’s last words to Ella. Disney’s latest adaptation of the famous fairytale added that phrase. In this edition, Cinderella wasn’t simply saved by the handsome prince, they chose to empower her with qualities that enabled her to change her life and still be compassionate. Thank heavens!
It seems to me it’s so much easier for people to be spiteful, to be right, to be “all about me and not about you.” We all recognize when we are being treating kindly. Are we called to be kind to everyone? It seems we are. We are even called to be kind to our enemies. What does that look like? Does it take more energy to be kind than mean or indifferent? Maybe it just takes a
different kind of energy. I believe it certainly takes a more conscientious effort to rise to the higher good than to sink to the lowest common denominator.
Kindness is a close relative of compassion. Many of the messages I’ve received lately in several of my readings have revolved around my responsibility to show compassion for the marginalized and suffering of the world. Compassion is kindness put into action. I believe as I age that responsibility becomes even greater. This is a time in my life when I have the luxury of having more time and how I use that time is very important. I want to leave this world a better place than I found it. I must confess there are many days when I look around and can’t even imagine what steps I can take
to help the world. It helps for me to recognize that I support several projects that reach out beyond my normal sphere of influence to the benefit of those who need exceptional help. I really can’t help the whole world but I can do some things that makes a difference or can I?
Do you know the story about the boy who is throwing starfish into the ocean? A man comes along and asks him what he’s doing and he explains he’s saving lives. The man laughs and tells him he’s wasting his time; he can’t possible save all the starfish. It’s not making a difference. The boy picks up another starfish and throws it into the ocean and says, “Well, I made a difference to that one.” My sister, Gloria Hafner, was a specialized reading teacher in NY. She took one or two students at a time and helped them learn to read at or above age level. She always told anyone who would listen about her work and that she had, “made a difference to that one.”
At the time of this entry Pope Francis is about to come to the United States. There has been a lot of publicity revolving around his visit. His approach to the world is causing quite a stir. He seems to me to be filled with love and compassion. He wants us all to fill ourselves with these intentions and then to put them into action. He doesn’t want to hear excuses and he doesn’t want or be our judge or jury. He is encouraging everyone to hear the message of Jesus and to go forward to make the world a better place. I personally find his message and his example to be refreshing, inspirational and challenging.
One of my efforts revolves around my belief in the power of prayer. I pray the Rosary daily for those “who most need God’s mercy.” I am trusting that my prayers seep out into the universe and relieve someone’s pain and suffering. It seems to me there is so much anguish. Perhaps the world is always like it is now and we simply see it more clearly because of the media but what is taking place especially at this time with the refugees from Syria and Africa is beyond tragic.
One of the conversations I’ve had recently revolved around energy and our ability to influence it. The scientist I spoke with didn’t believe there was such a thing and that the only reason there was any sort of change was due to a placebo effect. I didn’t feel qualified to argue with him but I left feeling very sad. He didn’t believe in mystery. He only believed in “mastery.” He only seemed to believe in what he could see and touch and prove. I am sure he is not alone but I need “mystery.” I need to believe that there is more to this life than what I perceive.
I don’t believe there will ever be any definite proof that our thoughts and prayers change the world but I truly believe they do. I actually embrace the mystery and imagine one day when I am no longer physically part of this world, being shown how the time and effort I made to send help to others through prayer manifested itself. It’ll be my judgment day. I’ll see where I failed to rise to the level of a higher plane and where I truly made a difference because I cared and was willing to take the time and make an effort to pray.
Maybe that’s why lately the words, “courage” and “kind” are appearing together. It may be harder to be kind than mean and kindness is a very important quality to practice but it takes courage to be compassionate. It takes the ability to “suffer with” another and that is very hard. It’s so much easier to turn off the TV or to turn away from the homeless and hungry. Pope Francis and now even
Disney are calling all of us to step outside of our comfort zone and find a way to help those in need. Perhaps it will be with prayer. Perhaps it will be only to reach out to one person, someone for whom we can claim, “it made a difference to that one.”
One young woman was there representing the Women’s Sustainable Agriculture Association. The following Saturday was to be the local garden and farm tour. You would receive a map and for $15 you could spend the day driving from farm to farm. She was with AmeriCorps. She explained it was like the Peace-core. Her two year assignment was almost up and when I asked her about her experience she exclaimed that it was, “wonderful!” Wonderful! Wow, I immediately wanted to be in my early twenties and a volunteer or perhaps I could at least share the concept with my grandchildren and encourage them towards “wonderful.”
Then we headed to the Daniel Boone Gardens. They were sponsoring “Fairy Day.” There were dozens of little girls skipping around in tutus, flowery headbands and gossamer wings. Once again I wished I were younger and had a pair of those shiny sparkle wings. Part of the event included a group from Appalachian State University. They were there representing the AgeLabs of the Psychology Department. The young woman, Lisa Emery, we stopped to chat with was a professor in that department and they were looking for older adults to volunteer for some of their research projects. Would we be interested? Well, I wasn’t young enough to join AmeriCorps and I felt too old to wear fairy wings and tutus but I didn’t feel old enough to qualify for an “older adult” research study.
Sister Joan Chittister in The Gift of Years, Growing Older Gracefully says one of the challenges of aging is that there’s no defined purpose to life after the age of 70. Before that most people, not in a third world country, are getting an education, then raising a family and developing a career and finally crafting a retirement plan and then “wham” if you’re one of the lucky ones you’re on your own to figure out what life without a societal definition looks like. I find her writing to be uplifting and filled with hope. Her chapter on Immediacy reminded me, once again, of the power I have to choose moment to moment, day to day, on what I want to focus. She writes, “What we too often fail to realize is that living fully depends a great deal more on our frame of mind, our fundamental spirituality, than it does on our physical condition.”
The question that I find myself asking is, how do I want to live out the years I have left? What words do I want to choose to craft a joyful, meaningful later life? I have some of the most inspirational older men and women in my life. I want to emulate them. I have one dear friend, Joanne, who at this time is almost retired and has prepared for it by taking up gardening at the NC Museum of Art, helping different chefs demonstrate their cooking techniques at a local kitchen shop, refurbishing furniture for people with limited incomes who are trying to set up a home and she also became a qualified “barbecue” judge. Another of my dear friends, Jean, is a phenomenal artist who founded and supports The Cary Artist’s (coop) Gallery. Two of my heroines are Sisters Mary Margaret and Judy, who are co-directors of A Place for Women to Gather in Raleigh, NC. At the Duke Cancer Patient Support Program there are dozens of retirees who show up once a week and sometimes more often to be patient navigators and supporters. The list is endless. People who created meaningful, fulfilling lives after their years of defined work.
Some of my passions are learning, yoga, the fiddle and writing. I love to travel too. I love a car trip. I actually took up the fiddle because of my deceased Uncle Frank. I never heard him play but I knew he played with the Long Island Senior Symphony until his late 90s. He and my dearly departed Aunt Alice had a very rich older life revolving around their music and their church. I recognized that I might need something I could do while sitting. Little did I realize the physical toll violin playing or fiddling can take on the body. (I’m often asked, “What’s the difference between a violin and a fiddle?” The answer came from a seven year old one day. “A violin has strings and a fiddle has strangs.”) It has been a joy learning how to fiddle. As an adult learner I still struggle but I love love love playing. If my arm and shoulder don’t cooperate, I plan to take up the Irish drum. (If you’d like to see my group in action view, The Elderberry Jam Band: https://youtu.be/Bp7hu358LH8.)
It seems like such a simple, essential rule, “Take a deep breath.” How many times have you heard that statement, especially when someone is becoming agitated? “Take a deep breath!” It would seem like the most natural thing in the world to remember to breathe, but we forget. How many times do we find ourselves holding our breath? One of the women in my fiddle group forgets to breathe every time she’s learning a new song. I know whenever I’m faced with a sudden shock, I hold my breath. It’s my first reaction. There’s also the fight or flight reaction to distress which means our breath becomes faster and more shallow. That’s why some people actually faint in those situations.
Yoga, practiced properly always includes a focus on the breath. Sometimes the teacher will instruct you when to inhale and when to exhale, other times they may simply tell you to “watch” your breath and to decide for yourself. “Watching,” the breath, however, is always an important part of the practice. I begin all my classes and my personal practice by calling attention to the breath. “Watch the rise and fall, the in and out, the up and the down.” Just by creating that simple awareness, the body and mind unite and calm. Taking it one step further, you can let your exhale be longer than your inhale. That has been shown to engage the parasympathetic nervous system: The part of the involuntary nervous system that serves to slow the heart rate, increase intestinal and glandular activity, and relax the sphincter muscles. Karin Johnson, yoga teacher extraordinaire at Rex Wellness in Cary took our inhale and exhale to another level at one of our recent classes. “What qualities can you take in on your inhale? What can you release on your exhale?” Ah, the gift of time deliberately spent moving and breathing.
My intention for the year has been to “let go of struggle.” I never dreamt, however, that would include letting my belly relax but that’s what I’m being guided to do. In his book, Unattended Sorrow,
One day a young mother shared with a group of us that her 15 year old teenage daughter and husband had had their first terrible blow out. She was worried they would never have a trusting, loving relationship. The other mothers present assured her it was all normal growing pains and if it had taken this long for them to have this type of interaction, they were probably going to be just fine, probably even better than fine.
Today when I see a young family together I want to run up to them and tell them it’s a “short long journey.” I want to embrace them and shake them and make sure they know it and tell them to savor every moment of it. Motherhood is work. It’s painful and it’s challenging. It’s demanding and it’s tiring. It’s frustrating and it’s confusing. As a young mother I was never around extended family. Our first move was when my oldest was 6 weeks old. Our second move five years later was when my middle child was 18 months old and then ten years after that, we moved when Ellen was just three. I never had a support system. Every time we moved, I was completely on my own. I didn’t have a clue how very hard it was but looking back I can see how hard it was. Each time we moved, I had to create a new support system. It was easier sometimes than others. It was exciting to go to a new place but it was also lonely. Our last move brought us here to North Carolina over 25 years go. We began again. Now, I live close to most of my family.
My years of motherhood are not over. Once a mother, always a mother but this stage of being the mother of adult children is for me a rich blessing. While the children were growing, I was too busy with the cares of life and daily activities to savor all the precious moments they offered me but now, I can relish each moment. I can relax in their company. When I was doing my Master of Social Work I decided I would ask each of them, all adults at that time, how I did as a mother. Truly, this has been my life’s work. I wondered how they felt I did. When I look back I remember each of their births. I remember all the times they were sick and needed care. I remember all those miles in the car to different sporting events or classes. I remembered making dinner almost every night. I remember reading stories and grabbing hugs and kisses as often as possible. I remember helping with homework and visiting schools. I remember helping find colleges and going to ceremonies. I remember a home that I always hoped felt safe and secure. I welcomed their friends and eventually their spouses. I encouraged them to follow their dreams and listened when life went a different way. I hadn’t had any training and other than my wonderful husband, I hadn’t had any family around to guide me but it appeared I’d done alright. What did they think? I was curious and I was brave.
Yes, it’s been a “long short journey.” If I could do it again what would I change? If I were as wise at 20, 30 or 40 as I am now, what would I do differently? I’d not clean the house so often. Occasionally I’d have cereal for dinner instead of taking time to cook each evening. I’d read even more stories, hold hands even more often. I’d sit and just listen whenever they wanted to tell me something. I’d know this moment will soon be gone and I’d treasure it for the gift it was.