The
difference between being a senior and being an elder? Elders are those who have
mastered the art of “letting go”.
I
once met a greyhaired lady lying in a hospital bed who told me everything she
owned had just been lost in a fire.
“Wow!
That’s awful” I sympathized
“I’m
just Thankful” she told me.
“Oh?”
“I’m
just Thankful that no one was hurt and that even my dog got out okay”.
What
if you lost everything you own? Your home, clothes, photos, music, computer –
everything. Would you still be you?
Would
you become superbusy recreating it all? Do you have an insurance policy that
would allow you to go out and buy back your old you?
Or
would you buy a new you? Change your hair and finally go punk pink like you
always wanted? Stop dying your hair and go bold and grey declaring just how
wise, or foolish, you really are?
Or
would you jump in your car (the fire didn’t get it) and start all over somewhere
else? Create a new home in a new place in a way you’ve never tried before? How
would you keep from slipping back into the same old comfortable patterns,
preferences, habits and hopes?
Could
you find some new energy to keep you edgy enough to explore those parts of
yourself that have always been in you like slow-burning embers without ever
enough oxygen to catch fire?
“Good
teacher, what must I do to deserve eternal life? I’ve kept all the commandments
– but it’s not enough…”
“Then
there’s only one thing left to do: Sell everything you own and give it away to
the poor. Then come and follow me. Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the
simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in.”
Luke 18: 17
What
childhood fires of yours have been covered up with the ever falling leaves of
responsibility? Day after day, year after year the leaves of duty, service,
commandments fall upon our childhood dreams and freedoms.
“When
I was five I was a poet, a dancer, a painter, a prophet, a sculptor, an
adventurer and a hero. I was everything and anything I could dream of.”
Parker Palmer
Then
slowly, gradually, gently, as leaves gently accumulate on your front lawn, the
childhood fires of imagination get smothered.
You
need an education. You need a job. You need a family. You need to make good and
give back the debt you owe. And you need need
NEED so many things to make all that happen. The needs keep growing and the
needs keep falling – piling higher and higher on those childhood fires. Soon,
your life is all about those needs, all about the leaves you’re neck deep in.
But
GOD kindles those kindergarten fires. Back when you were really you. Without
titles or job descriptions to define your place in the world, you belonged here
simply because the Maker had put a spark in your mother’s womb. That divine
spark is what you carried into this world – what makes you uniquely you.
Maybe
you were a lucky one. Maybe you had teachers, parents, mentors whose fires
burned brightly. Whose lives consumed all the dross of “things” that get in the
way of inspiration and imagination. Maybe you had elders who had lost
everything already and learned that what counts is what you can’t lose. Maybe
your small fires were encouraged to burn freely – given space and oxygen and
fuel to burn.
“It’s
easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich church
to enter into the kingdom” joked Jesus.
What
if lightning struck? If Zeus sent a bolt down, if the Tower of Babel fell, if
our church burned to the ground? Would we discover a language common to all?
Would we discover that in the embers burned many small fires of imagination
that have slept beneath the leaves piled high?
If
you’ve obeyed the Commandments all your life and you are still asking “what
else?” then all that’s left is to follow Jesus into a kingdom of childhood play.
The world needs poets, dancers, bold discoverers of radical generosity and
simple pleasures.
Your
family, your church, your co-workers need someone to play with more than they
need leaves to gather. When they look into your eyes will they see the Divine
spark burning bright? When they look at your life will they see leaves piled
deep or will they see a bright bonfire burning in this dark world?
Tomorrow’s Hero today
a
lightning flash woke me while still dark.
the
rain shower’s rush called outside my window
washing
away the dream that held me undercover
trickling
through mind’s grasp
to
join with your dreams in the storm sewers
of
this city’s awakening
what
great drama held us overnight
while
caretakers watched our empty buildings sleep
cleaners
emptied yesterday’s waste into ever bigger bins
and
cops kept company with cabbies and coffee counter clerks
as
yesterday’s grind became today’s double double
you
fought deep in the dragon’s lair
while
I stole your magic coat
and
running for the stars tripped on the golden ring
encircling
the world
and
She found the door at last
in
the endless hall of searching
and
He lost again
what
was surely in the bag
and
the crowd cheered when the dragon fell
but
turned their backs
to
avoid the mirrored look within the eyes
of
Her severed trophy’s head
What
kiss in sleep is sweeter
than
the Mother’s waking call
to
emerge from beneath the blanket’s cave
and
become tomorrow’s hero before today is gone.
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