Do Good Anyway

It is a week of juxtapositions; a week of resolutions, a week of adjustments; and a week of working to find a way to settle into life the way it is now.  Our week "started" on Saturday, odd as that might seem -- the day that we held a memorial for Master's father, Walter.  Walt died, five months ago, on January 26 at the age of 91.  Saturday's gathering was poignant but also joyful -- we did shed a few tears, but we did a great deal more laughing as we shared memories and told stories.  Master spoke movingly about the man that was His father, his integrity, his wit, his care and love for his wife and son, his career, and his service to his country.  We'd talked, in the days leading up to Saturday, about how Master perceived what it was that His father would want, and He'd told me that in His dad's view, it would be important for us not to "go all to pieces."  Walter, it seemed felt that "going all to pieces" was absolutely unseemly and inappropriate.  And so it was.  The only glitch, and it was a significant glitch, was that no one ever told any of us that we needed to contact the funeral home and have them deliver the vault for the urn to the cemetary.  We arrived, after the memorial, at the cemetary to find the grave open, but no vault to contain the box of Walter's ashes.  We had some conversation about what to do, and finally spent a few minutes at the graveside, sharing a prayer and a bit of scripture, and then turning the box over to the "grave digger" who promised to keep them safe until we could make the rest of the arrangements. 

That happened this afternoon, and Master and I went back up to the cemetary to meet, Ace, the grave digger and finally "get Dad planted" as Master persists in characterizing it.  It is an absolutely lovely day here, and the cool breezes and bright sun shone for us there in the small, simple cemetary.  It was a bit emotional, but also good to have some closure to this passage. 

What struck me, though, was the presence of Ace.  He is a big, round-bellied, bearded fellow with denim overalls and a baseball cap.  He told us he's been doing this work for 22 years, and he is as personable and friendly and kind and conscientious as can be.  His presence and his approach to his "work" turned out to be a gift to us in these days, and meeting him has given me some insight into some of the unsettledness and frustration I've been feeling as we've moved through these early days of Master's sudden transition from His working life. 

I keep banging into my absolute conviction that there is some huge lack of fairness in this ending.  For thirty-five years, Master has worked and battled for people with disabilities and their families, choosing to forego some much more lucrative career path in order to do that work.  He's seen enormous changes in the way people with disabilities are treated; seen the implementation of much more efficacious service and support systems; and the gradual and steady dissolution of a system that would take children born with disabilities away from their homes and communities and essentially imprison them in huge and horrible state run institutions.  In big ways and small ways, He's been instrumental in changing the way that those with disabilities live their lives in our communities.  Lives have been improved, and more than that, lives have been saved BECAUSE Master has done this work for so long.  It is the truth and it is, in my view terribly unfair, that all of that work and all of those years should go unrecognized and unacknowledged because an adversarial board of directors would lay the current difficult economics entirely at the feet of Master.  It isn't fair and it isn't right. 

I think that the lesson to be learned from Ace the gravedigger is just this -- whatever the work, doing the right thing, doing your chosen work with integrity and heart changes people's lives.  Ace does his thing with a shovel and a heart as big as he is.  Master has touched hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives, over all these years, and it may not be possible to ever see the full extent of the impact He's had.  Perhaps no one will ever be able to fully acknowledge the gift He's been to so many, but that does not diminish the fact of the good work He's done.  I know.  T knows.  Plenty of people know.  It will perhaps never be quite the same, but it changes not a single thing about His character and His goodness.

Mother Teresa, famously, wrote:


If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.


What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.


Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

swan