On Living Well

Last week as I drove home from Lily's doctor's appointment, I heard a song on the radio - I'd heard it before, but I actually listened this time.  Over the course of 3 verses, it told the story of a young man and his love.  The first verse told about their courtship where he would walk her home, down an old road, holding her hand all the way.  The second verse told about him walking into the hospital room where his wife held their son and her smile reminding him of how their love began when he would walk her home, holding his hand.  The final verse described nurses in a rest home who were unsure if they should tell him that this was likely his wife's last night.  Then the nurses go to check on the wife and find her husband already there with her, "walking her home, holding her hand..."

I bawled.  I sobbed.

Here's a link to the song.  See if you can make it through without a tear:  He Was Walking Her Home

It got me thinking about living well.  What was so touching to me about the song, is that the gentleman in the song lived well.  By the end, the nurses didn't have to tell him it was his wife's last night - he was so in tune with her, because of years of daily practice, that he knew.  He just knew she needed him.  He got what was important in life.  He lived well.

This weekend I felt like I was constantly surrounded by people who are living well, but I realized that that means something a little different for each person.  Chase and I started out the weekend with some friends who recently adopted a baby girl.  She is precious.  And her mom has a life-long illness that will take her life sooner than any of us would like.  We had a lovely time, but after I left I thought about how mom and dad and baby are living well.  Baby has been adopted into a home and family who cherish every second with her.  Mom and dad are soaking in each moment, taking care of the dirty diapers and other baby daily necessities with the eternal constantly in mind.

When we left there, I went to visit my cousin who had her baby 2 weeks ago.  But I visited them in the lobby outside of the NICU.  Her baby was born 6 weeks early.  Living well for my cousin and her husband meant sleeping poorly on a pull out couch or a recliner in their baby's room for 2 weeks.  It meant my cousin not having been to her own home for over 3 weeks.  It meant throwing out the birth plan, the expectations, and the rule book to do what was best for their baby.  It will mean ultra-caution as they protect this little one who is now (thankfully) safely at home.  They have worked hard for this baby, and they are living well.

From these glimpses into living well at the front end of life, I then stopped to visit my grandparents on my way back home.  In the last 2 years they sold the cabin on a lake that they bought when my mom was still living at home.  They sold the house that they'd lived in for 57 years - the only house they'd ever lived in as a married couple.  They got rid of all the extra things, down to the bare bones, so that they would fit into the much smaller, more manageable house they moved into.  They moved to a different town - it's nearby, but it's still not the town they spend their lives in.  They are living well.

I think that perhaps it's much harder to live well in the end than in the beginning.  With my friends and my cousin, they know what they need to do to care for their babies.  They do the daily things that are required although not always easy - the diapers, the shots, the doctor's visits, the worrying about how much food the baby's getting, the second-guessing of parenting styles... They do the outward things that express the inward, indescribable love they have for their children.  And it's a joy.  But my grandparents have done the same things - the outward things that show their inward love for their children:  downsizing now so that the kids don't have to go through all the stuff later;  making sure the right kids and grandkids get the things that mean something to them; accepting the new and ever-increasing limitations of a body that simply can't do what it used to; voluntarily moving to a place that they can care for themselves.  Living well.

In all stages of life, we get the opportunity to live well.  For Chase and I, now, living well means caring for our family.  It's small now, but imagine what it might be like in 57 years...

Someday I hope Chase and I go at the same time - that would be a mercy to us.  But if not, I want to be in tune enough with him that neither of us has to tell the other that we're headed home - we'll just know.  I want to live well now and always - forever in light of eternity.