Driving to work at 7:30 last Thursday morning, I noticed a fading half-moon suspended in the sky. As daylight reappears, it would be easy to forget that this celestial body hangs in space, interacting continually with our planet. Just five nights earlier a full moon reflected light onto the landscape seen through our bedroom window. Since then, this nocturnal companion is on a journey of waning, diminishing itself, until it is a mere sliver that is still visible to those of us who look on from nearly 240,000 miles away.
There is so much that we take for granted in our daily life. When we are in the fullness of our lives, we forget that we have these bodies that support our movement, trigger our feelings, and direct our thinking patterns each moment of every day. We could easily forget the fact that our heart is pumping and our nerves are continuously messaging our muscles. In response to these neurological impulses, our legs follow the prompting of our thoughts and move us from one space to another. We seldom pause to reflect on the miracle of our well-functioning body. It is only when those daily capabilities begin to wane that we remember that they are indeed gifts from One who knit us together in our mothers’ wombs. One medical diagnosis, one car accident, one shattered relationship shakes our confidence and we panic over our “diminishing”.
John Yungblut published an essay in 1990 entitled On Hallowing our Diminishments. That title has always challenged me. I find it very difficult to regard as holy the very afflictions that make my daily life a struggle. Aging is one process that slowly robs us of the many capabilities we take for granted until they wane in strength. My five siblings and I have joked about how our conversations are beginning to shift toward surgeries and physical frustrations with changing bodies. While we do not welcome these physical challenges, we do find ourselves laughing when we discuss what crazy things our bodies are doing to us now. The tenor of our conversation is certainly not one of reverence toward those losses!
I was visiting with a darling older couple in my congregation years ago. Both in their 90s, they had been married more than 60 years. They were so comfortably suited to each other, their two lives truly becoming one over the course of the decades. The man was talking slowly during one of my pastoral visits. At one point, his speech seemed to get stuck and his jaw quavered as he tried to make sound come out of his mouth. Nothing did. His wife, who was happily confused in her dementia, reacted to his struggle and asked, “Bill, what are you doing?” She had a smile on her face and was genuinely intrigued about his inability to get his words out. Without looking up, his face also broke into a bemused smile and he slowly shook his head. Finally, with halting words, he stammered, “I….don’t…..know!”
And with that they both melted into 90-year-old laughter.
They laughed in the face of their losses. Rather than viewing this stammering as an assault to his dignity, they viewed it as a joke his tired body was playing on him. I went home that day and told my husband this couple was my role model for traveling the years together as an aging couple.
Hallowing our diminishments. It’s not easy, especially in a culture that glorifies youth and idolizes fitness. On Leap Day, 24 hours of grace, the moon hung suspended in the morning sky, waning toward a sliver of its reflective potential. As the sun’s rays dispelled the darkness, it would be easy to forget that our moon still hangs, invisible, over the busyness of our daily activities.
I wonder what diminishments you are experiencing. Are you accompanying loved ones who are coping with a waning of their capabilities. Perhaps you are a caregiver to someone whose life is slipping away, one wound, one confused moment, one TIA at a time. In a rare moment of clarity, they break through the confusion and they say your name. They remember their past. They speak of their mother as if she were there. Tears well up in your eyes in this gifted moment. In their decline, they invite us to trust that there is a world beyond this one that beckons. Beyond the gravitational pull of our earthly home, our bodies are liberated and renewed. This is a promise so great we are encouraged to truly hallow our diminishments and utter a heartfelt song of praise. Rather than view each loss as an assault on our dignity, we can embrace the full spectrum of our experiences and laugh with another at these unsolicited changes.
My husband and I have often quoted that short exchange between a wonderful couple who have long since been reunited beyond this world of diminishment. Their ability to laugh at physical changes they could not understand is still a teaching moment for us nearly 40 years into our own marriage:
Bill, what are you doing?
I…..don’t…..know!
I can hear their blessed laughter still.
Preaching Life 