Faith, Humor and Optimism

I want to write something about the last week - but I'm having a hard time getting started. I guess the best place to start is with the moral of the story: My parents have taught all their kids how to face a world that is unpredictable and ever changing with real faith, a reasonable amount of humor and pragmatic optimism.

My dad's mantra "we are blessed" is always present in their lives no matter what they are facing - and my mom's mantra "have more fun" is also at the forefront of each day. These guiding principles have shaped my own marriage as well as how I view the world around me. No matter what we've been through, I always remember that I am incredibly fortunate and that I need to live in and enjoy the moment. It's not even something I need to work at - my parents have so impressed this upon me that it is a natural reaction.

I was driving on Saturday afternoon, running a few typical weekend errands, picking up pictures for TBPP, heading to the library and I wanted to get the car cleaned. I called my parents to let them know that I was planning to stop over later. My dad answered the phone and said he had something he wanted to talk to me about.

He'd been to the doctor to talk about some concerns he had about his short term memory - it had been a helpful visit and then he'd spent that morning with Chris, who is his power of attorney, and Nick who is not his doctor but who has been very involved in his healthcare. They had a good visit and then the three of them had a nice chat with my mom about what dad's concerns really mean. He sounded wonderful on the phone, his voice calm and maybe even a little relieved. He told me this was nothing to worry about - but he wanted to make sure everyone knew about it.

He said he knew that this wasn't a surprise to me, but he asked me how I felt. And honestly, the thing I felt the most was blessed and proud. All I could think of was that this was my dad at his very best - self aware, honest, and loving. His concern was more about my mom and his kids and less about himself. Classic dad.

The truth is that last week was no different from this week - nothing has changed except my dad feels better about being honest with his concerns how ever modest they are. In this simple act of going to the doctor and calling all his kids he showed us something else: we shouldn't be afraid. We should look at our lives with open eyes and clear hearts - and if we can do that - everything will be ok. Labels, diagnosis, prognosis don't matter near as much as how we approach a situation. And how we approach a situation says more about us than anything else.

My mom's comments about the whole situation were as telling as my dad's. When I talked with her on the phone, she also asked how I felt, and I told her the same thing I told my dad, that I was proud of them. She's got plans for my dad which include more exercise and drinking more water - but in the end she said he's really doing great. And if something changes they'll deal with that - but for now they're just going to take care of themselves and have a lot of fun. The truth is that winter is a hard time of year for my dad - he misses the gardening, golfing and the warm weather. Mom is optimistic that he'll feel better after they get some time in the sun - they're heading for a month long vacation in Florida (all my sisters and I are joining them for one weekend - yippee).

Saturday night James, I and the kids went to mass. We sat behind Paula and her parents who have had a sort of rough winter - but who are as wonderful and feisty as ever. I was feeling sort of tender. Paula and I have been crazy busy the last few months and haven't spent as much time together (I bet her son Jeff wishes he could say the same - poor kid is always at my house scanning pictures). The offertory song began to play and I started to cry. The only other time I've heard this song was a few years ago at another tender time.

It was The Servant Song:

Brother, let me be your servant
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant, too

We are pilgrims on a journey
We are brothers on the road
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load

I will hold the Christlight for you
In the night-time of your fear
I will hold my hand out to you
Speak the peace you long to hear

I will weep when you are weeping
When you laugh I'll laugh with you
I will share your joy and sorrow
Till we've seen this journey through

When we sing to God in heaven
We shall find such harmony
Born of all we've known together
Of Christ's love and agony

Brother, let me be your servant
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant, too

And I wasn't crying just because I was sad, but because it was so crystal clear to me how God works in our lives. We are given to each other as gifts to be enjoyed, treasured and shared - whether it is our parents, our spouses, our children, our siblings or our very good friends. My parents spent a lot of time last week (and over the last few months) helping a friend and neighbor who was dying of cancer. Mom brought food and my dad brought up communion. But what they brought more than anything was support and comfort. My parents have shown me that serving each other isn't the duty - it's the reward.

Now in the days that have followed, I got to spend time with my folks up at the cabin. Dad drove us up and helped me lug our stuff through the snow to the cabin (it was incredibly deep). I took Seamus out of school for a day and we all read lots of books, skied, and snowshoed. It was a lovely three days - kids were great and my parents were fabulous. We hot tubbed one night and my mom made a lovely meal. We laughed a lot - we made quite a few memory jokes. My parents are still actively parenting, supporting, serving me, I rely on them so much and I am entirely grateful for it.