To which I say, Amen, no matter how we may define “God.” In
fact, maybe that laughing deity is just our own humbled selves as we age. We
look back on a life filled with unintended, often unwanted, disruptions, our
laugh more sardonic than good-humored.
These inevitable transitions usually include the sound of
doors closing, sometimes slamming. And while the doors that open often bring
good news, others do not. Instead, we come face-to-face with job loss;
financial distress; divorce; the death of loved ones; physical and emotional
challenges.
When this happens, even over the course of a long-lived life,
these losses and challenges often overwhelm us; we have a hard time seeing over
and through them, unable to imagine a better tomorrow. We hear that time heals
all wounds, but in the midst of a particular wounding, we’re not so sure.
Like most of my fellow agers, I’ve had my share of unwanted
disruptions, but, in truth, I was not prepared for them to continue
accumulating. I’d hoped that my Lessons
Learned column would remain in the past tense. Alas, now I know that we are never
done, that we are constantly learning lessons.
I write about one in particular in an essay recently published
in Notre Dame magazine. I’d like to
think it’s finally stuck. (And please note: I'd titled the essay “Living the
Prayer of St. Francis, ” which reflects what I sorely needed reminding of.)
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