Long Way to Go

My God, thank you for sending your Son, even though I don't understand it,

My God, thank you for loving me, even though I don't deserve it,

My God, thank you for your Grace, even though I don't accept it.

That was the prayer I uttered in my head while I lay shivering last week under the throes of the flu. It was a beseeching prayer, and an honest laying out of how I feel most of the time. Which, of late, has included a lot of bitterness and anger at a lot of different things, myself included.

I have finished "A Severe Mercy," and it was beautiful. The letters by C.S. Lewis became a secondary motivation as I was drawn further and further into Vanauken's account and his thoughts.

Once Davy was diagnosed with a terminal illness that no-one could identify (not even at the time the book was written), they both tried to make the best of what time they had left. One of the things that warmed me most was how much time and effort Davy spent with other patients, talking to them and just brightening their day. Even the nurses, it seems, were encouraged by her cheerfulness. Everyone at the hospital became so fond of her that the doctors refused payment for her treatment, even as Vanauken was making arrangements for a loan. She had done too much for them already, they had said. It made me think of how wonderful it would be to meet a woman like that, but it also made me realize how much time I spend wasted on worry and despair. Why is it so hard to be thankful for the life given to me, and why is it so easy to sink into dark thoughts about money and work?

As befits this story, and as Vanauken had prayed for, Davy did not pass in pain or in a coma. She slipped away fully awake with Vanauken by her side, holding her hand and bidding her farewell. She told him, "Look!" before she was gone, though Vanauken hadn't felt like he should ask her what she saw, as it would ruin the last mysterious moment.

He fully embraced his grief. He went through all the writings and photos that he had of their time together, diving into the love and longing they brought him. He also came to some realizations that echoed with some of my thoughts.

During their life together, they had sought moments of "timelessness." To them, they were experiences filled with such beauty, joy, and freedom that when they looked back on them, they couldn't fully discern how much time had passed during them. They did not like the hurried quality of everyday life, and always had dreams of pursuing their own place, where timelessness was more welcome.

I, too, have dreamt of such a life, where time doesn't matter as much. I have also felt the sting of time's flow, in that things are always passing away. The events I enjoy will end, and even the ones still to come will become memory. All is fallen into dust; nothing lasts. For some things, this can be a relief, but it still fills me with a certain despair and helplessness.

But why? Vanauken wondered why Davy and he should have sought so desperately for timelessness, and I wonder why the slipping away of life disturbs me so. Why, when we are creatures embedded in time, do we feel so uncomfortable with it? Is it, perhaps, not our true environment? Is it something we were not meant for? Are we, in the end, made for eternity?

In time, Vanauken lost the feeling of Davy's presence with him and found peace with what C.S. Lewis called the severe mercy of Davy's death. Had she not died, they both reasoned, Vanauken's jealousy of God's place in her life would have ruined them both. Now the jealousy was gone, and Vanauken found peace. I don't know if he is still alive, but I know that he never remarried, instead living his life with the knowledge that Davy would wait for him. As Lewis had said to them in parting one evening in Oxford, "Christians NEVER say goodbye!"

So, that's that. This was one of those rare books that I feel better and broader in spirit for having read it. I have not been reading very diligently of late, and I feel that must change. There are many other things I feel, in varying degrees at various times. One thing I feel too seldom is gratefulness. I have much to be thankful for, and much that keeps my life from truly dark times. I should smile more. I should laugh more. I shouldn't be so hard on myself. My life is worth more than guilt for all the things I haven't done or have failed at. It is also worth more than to be filled with bitterness and resentment.

Or so I tell myself, hoping one day to believe it.

If I have learned anything from the story of the Vanaukens, it's that life is unpredictable. And that God is wild, but good.

P.S. - Whoever reads this blog, keep Jeromie's dad in your thoughts. His heart acted up recently, and he could use prayers or considerations.


Twilight out.