After her recent death, images, memories and teachings of my mother have been popping up, merging with reflections on the shifting nature of parenting and grand-parenting as we age; taking me to wondering what it means to “be there” for our children, grandchildren, etc. I have found myself thinking about Mother’s 80th birthday, and as my family may recall, a banner saying “Happy Birthday, Helen.” It was clear to me from my interactions with her that she intended to have this occasion make notice of “Helen the person” – the person within the various roles (mother, grandmother, etc.) she carried out. At the time, I knew enough to honor the Helen notion, but after conversation with my sisters and some added reflection, I am seeing more clearly what she might have been trying to teach us. There is a person, within, at the very source of the roles that we take on… a person, an essence, a gift to be manifested, to be made real and present in this world. Thinking of this in the context of aging, grand parenting and parenting, and recalling my experience of our mother, the following thoughts show up.
Along the way, there really is a shift in the way those roles are carried out, some of which is due to the reality of aging – physical aging – some of which reflects a real shift in the nature of work and presence called for. The whole image we have of “being there” begins to shift; we can begin to see a transition from being “presently active” to having an “active presence.” This notion of active presence entered as I imaged our mother (and our grandmother) as they sat quietly in and among the family – be the gathering large or small. From our mother we learned that this active presence emerged out of quietness, stillness, and upon occasion, periods of being alone… a process of reading, reflecting, contemplating, praying… a process bolstered by reflective, thoughtful conversation and dialogue.
What begins to show up is that there is a particular way of proceeding – a way of working – to bring about this active presence… an active presence that enables us to move into the realm of wisdom… to work toward becoming in many ways a wise elder… a critical role, not only within immediate family, but for society as well… a role that has become less and less common today, and perhaps that is what was behind Mother’s expression of concern as she commented that so many of her peers seemed to be afraid of quiet time (of the nature mentioned above). To her they seemed to have an incessant need to be constantly doing.
This notion of wisdom – this shift in the nature of work called for – is again enriched by our experience of our mother’s process. Through that we can come to see wisdom – critical to our humanness and to our becoming fully and truly human – is not a thing, not something we have or for that matter something we can gain, but rather it is that which enters into a particular nature of process… the nature of process our mother had developed such wonderful capacity for. It is what so many of us experienced as we sat with her and shared some feelings, concerns, new insights, something we did not understand, something troubling, etc. What we noticed and experienced was that somewhere in the process something entered, not always identifiable as a particular thing, but something nevertheless… something such that when we left, we were on a wiser path, a more spirited, uplifted path.
Reflecting further, it is clear that even when wise counsel was given, part of the magic – the gift – was that it had clearly emerged in the process… there was no predetermined, dogmatic answer. While we knew without doubt that love would be in the process and a receptive heart would be listening, what emerged was relevant to and considerate of the reality of the situation. And somewhere along the way – either through expression or experience – the sense that things will work out, it will all work out, came into the process. The confidence that our mother had that things will work out, seems to me at least, to be anchored in her substantial faith – as well as her understanding of the truth that through love, through God, all things are possible. This confidence, I am sure, was further bolstered by her knowing conviction that as long as she was in the process, love would be present.
As I reflect on what has been written, I am seeing new meaning – a deeper sense of an expression I have held for quite a while: in regards to our life, as it progresses towards its ultimate end, the truth of the matter is our last day can be our best day. I see now that as our life progresses, as our physical capacity diminishes, as we become less and less attached to worldly things, to worldly roles, and as we work to become a more true expression of our essence, our gift, we can in reality have our last days be our best days. From these reflections emerges the notion that there is no greater gift we could give our mother than to become what we are intended to be.
