How Will You Be Remembered?

Three friends were discussing death and one of them asked, "What would you like people to say about you at your funeral?"

The first of the friends said, "I would like them to say, 'He was a great humanitarian, who cared about his community.'"

The second answered, "I hope they say, 'She was a great wife and mother, who was an example for her family."'

The third friend responded, "I would like them to say, 'Look! He's moving!'"

Other than "Look! He's moving!" -- what would you hope others might say about you at your funeral?

A friend once told me of a caring and much-loved school nurse who died. She was well known by the faculty and students, as she had been there 35 years. When the principal announced her death to the children, many of them began to cry.

To help ease their grief, the school counselor had a group of children draw a picture of what the nurse meant to them. One child filled in her paper with red. "This is her heart," she explained. "It's too big for the paper."

At her funeral her friends and family clapped and celebrated her life. She left behind a great legacy of love.

How will you be remembered? What legacy will you leave behind?

Toward the end of his life, author and theologian Elton Trueblood made this observation: "At the age of 93, I am well aware that I do not have many years to live. Consequently, I try very hard to live my remaining years in such a manner that I really make a difference in as many lives as possible. How do I want to be remembered? Not primarily as a Christian scholar, but rather as a loving person. This can be the goal of every individual. If I can be remembered as a truly loving person, I shall be satisfied."

After you are gone, people may forget most of what you have said and done. But they will remember that you loved them.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Jetske

Choose Your Memories Wisely

Do you know that memory can be a powerful tool for spiritual and emotional rejuvenation? Memories are both helpful and hurtful, and you and I decide what to do with them. Let me explain.

I once attended a conference at a retreat center in the Rocky Mountains. We were given a long break one afternoon to relax and renew our spirits. I decided to go for a walk by myself.

A little way down a secluded, dirt road, I spotted horses in a corral. I carefully approached, so as not to frighten them. When I neared, I breathed in horse smells. With the scent of the horses and the corral came something I didn't expect – a flood of memories.

I took another breath and vividly recalled visiting my grandparents' guest ranch every summer as a child. When I was a teenager, I worked on the ranch. Some of my happiest childhood memories involved horses.

I inhaled deeply. I recalled hot afternoons of pulling saddles and blankets off perspiring horses then brushing down their backs. The pungent smell of horse sweat filled my mind and let loose a flood of memories I hadn't recalled for many years. I thought about the soft touch of a horse's nose sniffing my hand for a sugar cube, and the warmth of a furry neck as I put my arms around it and hugged it close. Even manure smells brought back good memories – thoughts of hours spent in corrals saddling, bridling and working with horses.

For two hours I let myself think and remember and feel. The memories worked some kind of magic inside me, healing and rejuvenating. I recalled day-long horseback rides, valley vistas of tall grass and pristine mountain creeks running beside horse trails carved in red earth. I fondly remembered those mornings I rose before dawn, saddled up a horse and scoured forest land searching for wandering horses, let out to roam and graze at night, to round up and bring in to the ranch before breakfast.

Until I smelled the horses, I had almost forgotten. And it occurred to me that these memories are important. They give me energy and new life. I should never lose them and I'd do well to visit them from time to time.

Memories are both helpful and hurtful and we decide which to keep alive.

Some people look back and feel guilty. Again and again they remember their failings and mistakes. They scrutinize these painful memories in detail. Like a child with a bag of marbles who holds them up to a strong light, one by one, examining their chips and flaws before carefully placing them back. When they take time to remember, they choose memories that are flawed; memories that evoke guilt and regret and steal peace of mind.

People similarly revisit memories of past loss, or personal rejection or any number of other hurts inflicted upon them over the years. They bitterly remember each incident and relive old feelings of loss and grief before locking the memory back into a secure place where it can be easily retrieved. The memories they choose to call up leave them sad and forlorn and rob the present of its power.

I don't suggest that you ignore pain. Feel it, understand it and do whatever is necessary to heal from it. Guilt, mistakes and pain are part of living. But why cultivate a habit of regret or bitterness? Those memories you choose to visit day after day will either flood your mind with strength-giving energy or drain it of power to live.

Choose wisely which memories to call up. Pick memories that will rejuvenate your spirit with new life. Revisit them often. You earned them, and they are a treasure nobody can steal.

-- Steve Goodier

My Favorite Computer Key

Image courtesy of Alvimann

Do you know what my favorite key is on my computer? It's the DELETE key. All kinds of problems go away when I press DELETE. I use it all the time. Junk e-mail? DELETE. Misspellings? DELETE. Unwieldy sentences and confusing paragraphs? DELETE. DELETE. I sometimes wish my life had a DELETE key. One click on the key and I wipe out a mistake. Maybe another click and I could start the day all over again.

And being one who blunders in grand fashion, I have empathy for others who wish they could go back and start over. Like the couple that phoned a neighbor to extend birthday greetings. As the phone was answered they belted out the song "Happy Birthday."  But when they finished their off-key rendition, they were informed that they had dialed the wrong number. After listening to their embarrassed apologies, the recipient said, "Don't let it bother you. You folks need all the practice you can get."

According to Tara Kelly Walworth (Reader's Digest), she and her new husband had an afternoon they may have wanted to take back. They arrived exhausted at their honeymoon destination in Daytona Beach, Florida (USA) and decided to refresh themselves in the motel pool. She figured she'd lost a few pounds leading up to the wedding when she discovered her skimpy, new bikini fit too loosely. Every time she dived into the pool she seemed to lose either the top or bottom. But since they had the pool to themselves, they just laughed and retrieved the pieces.

They later dressed for dinner and decided to eat in the motel restaurant. Waiting for a table in the lounge, they noticed a huge, empty, glistening fish tank above the bar. "Why is such a beautiful fish tank empty?" her husband asked the bartender.

The man grinned broadly and said, "That's not a fish tank. It's the swimming pool."

I think it was New York City Mayor Fiorello Laguardia who once said, “I rarely make a mistake. But when I do, it's a beaut!”
   
Have you ever wanted to take back an embarrassing moment? Or more importantly, how often have you regretted a hasty decision that ended with disastrous consequences?  Or an unfair and angry outburst that caused unnecessary hurt? Some of my worst mistakes were not the embarrassing moments (later on they make the best stories), but pain I caused other people and poor decisions that did damage I could never repair. 

The problem is, some mistakes really can't be corrected. Some hurts just can't be undone. As they say, it's like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube. Sometimes the best we can do is to make amends. And no DELETE key can erase the past so we can do it over – do it better.

The past is what it is – past. And that, too, is good to remember. It is past. Over. Finished. There is no taking it back, yet no purpose is served in reliving and rehashing old memories. It is gone. My best self says to me, “Let it be a teacher.” So I try to learn from its harsh lessons as well as its joys. Then (and this is important), my best self adds, “Now just leave it. Leave it where it belongs – in the past.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson put it this way: “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day.”

Yes, tomorrow is a new day. Full of hope and promise and new beginnings. And that is something I might forget if life had a DELETE key.

-- Steve Goodier

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Dreams Are Renewable

Are you too old to get married? Several years ago, Jim Gorringe, 99, and Dinah Leach, 84, wedded at the St. James Rest Home in Christchurch, New Zealand. Both had been previously married and great, great grandchildren attended the ceremony.

Just before the wedding, the groom quipped, "We won't be having children."

I wonder if this is the same older couple who stopped by a pharmacy a couple months before their wedding. They told the pharmacist they wanted to get married. "Do you sell heart medication?" they asked. He said that of course they do.

"Then how about medicine for circulation?"

The druggist replied, "All kinds."

"Do you have drugs for rheumatism, arthritis, memory problems and scoliosis?"

The pharmacist assured them that they had a wide array of medicines for all of those problems and more.

"And you sell wheelchairs, walkers and canes?"

"Absolutely," said the druggist. "Whatever you need."

They looked at each other and smiled. "Great!" the bride-to-be said. "We’d like to register here for our wedding gifts."

You have to admire their enthusiasm. They may have old memories – that is a gift of age. But they also have young hopes.

Author and television personality Hugh Downs reported some good news for seniors. He said that when older adults are properly motivated, their intelligence does not wane. In fact, the ability to organize thinking may actually increase as folks age. Many people in their 50's, 60's and even 70's can go through college with greater efficiency than at 18.

Adults over 70 years of age have contributed richly and in varied ways.

• Emmanuel Kant wrote his finest philosophical works at age 74.
• Verdi at 80 produced "Falstaff" and at 85, "Ave Maria."
• Goethe was 80 when he completed "Faust."
• Tennyson was 80 when he wrote "Crossing the Bar."
• Michelangelo completed what may have been his greatest work at age 87.
• At age 90, Justice Holmes was still writing brilliant American Supreme Court opinions.

And then there's George Dawson. George learned to read at age 98. (He was forced to quit school when he was a small child in order to help support his family.) "I got tired of writing my name with an 'X,'" he said. Four years later, at age 102, he co-authored his autobiography, Life Is So Good, published by Random House.

Dreams are renewable. They need not expire like an over-due library book. No matter our age, we can breathe new life into old dreams. In fact, we have to renew our dreams, or else they will wither away altogether.

I don’t want to spend my life so busy looking back that I lose interest in what lies ahead. As I age, I will have old memories. But I also want a few young hopes.

After all, dreams are renewable.

-- Steve Goodier


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To Remember Is to Understand

Does this sound familiar?

James was cleaning out the attic one day when he came across a ticket from a shoe repair shop. The date stamped on the ticket showed it was over eleven years old. He felt sure the shoes would not still be there, but decided to stop by and check anyway.

He handed the ticket to the man behind the counter, who scowled at the date. "Just a minute," said the clerk. "I'll have to look for these." He disappeared into a back room.

After a few minutes, the clerk called out, "What do you know – here they are!"

"That's terrific!" said James, hardly believing his good fortune.

The man came back to the counter, empty-handed. "They'll be ready Thursday," he said.

I hope James is the patient sort.

We should all be masters of patience; after all, we've had plenty of practice. But mustering patience with unreasonable people (including ourselves) may seem more than we can manage some days.

I heard about an elderly patient in an American hospital who was recovering from a medical procedure. He decided to take a look at his recovery-room record attached to the bed frame. He leafed through the pages, then stopped at one particular notation and furled his brow in consternation.

"I know I was in a bit of a muddle, but I didn't realize I was that bad," he said apologetically to his nurse. "I hope I didn't offend anyone."

She glanced to the spot where he pointed. “Don’t worry,” she said. “SOB doesn’t mean what you think. It stands for ‘short of breath.’”

But I suspect that in some cases it does have a double meaning. Especially if the patient is in pain, fearful or just plain out of sorts. (And that probably goes for some of the hospital staff, too.)

Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher once said, “I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end.” But we don’t always get our own way. And patience can be taxed beyond reason.

Where does understanding come from when it feels as if there is nothing left?

I've learned that it can come from the simple act of remembering. To remember is to understand. It is not about gritting one’s teeth and forcing oneself to be more patient. It is actually easier than that.

Do you remember what it was like to be a child? No parent should ever forget. And to remember is to understand.

Do you remember what it was like to be a student? Every teacher should try to remember, and especially if they feel frustrated.

Do you remember what it is like to be a patient? Doctors and nurses show more empathy after they have also spent time in a hospital bed.

Do you remember what it was like to be lonely? To be first? To be last? To fail? To succeed? To be afraid? To remember is to understand.

And to understand is to be patient.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/steve: they can't all be zinge

Things of Value

You've heard the question asked, "If your home were on fire, what you try to save?" Most people answer that they would rescue people and pets and as many photographs and memories as possible.

The question we faced was similar. We were forced to consider, "If we have to evacuate our home, what should we take with us?" Or, put another way, which of our possessions could we live without?

Our area was just a few miles from largest wildfire in Colorado's history. We were on "evacuation alert." If we got the call to evacuate, we would have to grab whatever we could save and leave immediately.

We packed suitcases with a few clothes and toiletries and set them by the door. Though these things were not valuable, time was. We moved the computers ... I made a living with my computer. We cleared out books we sold from our home office. Those books represented our livelihood. We packed financial records - who wants to hassle with the government for years over missing documents?

Now, what else? We snatched family pictures from the walls and packed scrapbooks in boxes - all sentimental objects that could not be replaced.

Then we took a hard look at all that remained. There was a lamp that belonged to my great grandmother. It was a connection to my family.

And there was the piano my wife Bev learned to play when she was a little girl. Not of great value in itself, but another family connection.

We would be leaving a hutch that belonged to her grandmother and handmade quilts and gifts from dear friends and family. All represented connections to people and memories we value, but if we were to be evacuated immediately, we would have no way to move these items.

I've never been much attached to things, but the thought of leaving behind something passed down through our families or handmade for us by dear friends saddened me deeply. It's about what they represented -- family and love. Each had a story to tell, and some of them spoke in the voices of our parents and grandparents and a few friends as close to us as family.

The fire never reached our home. We were lucky. And though I felt grateful that all was spared, I realized also just how fortunate I had been in another way. I saw just how rich my life had been. Not in things I owned, but in love I've known.

Someone wisely said, "There are people so poor that the only thing they have is money." And now I knew. I was indeed rich. I was rich in friends and family. Rich in memories. Rich in everything that really matters.

I wonder if there is any other kind of wealth worth seeking.

-- Steve Goodier

Image by flickr.com/Cinzia A. Rizzo