Today Peter and I are cleaning out the attic and the closets as he prepares to embark on his new life as a seminary graduate; and I prepare to embark on my new life as a single person. As I sifted through the jumbled contents of one of the many boxes that he had scattered around the upstairs gameroom, I came across a slick-covered book entitled "Quadrant II Time Management." It was the notebook from a Stephen Covey seminar that I had taken, I think around 1992. As I leafed through the pages I came to one labeled "Exercise Eight: INFLUENTIAL PERSON." Apparently the instructor had us select one individual who had been influential in our lives and then, with this person in mind, fill out several paragraphs of information to help us use what we had learned that might be useful in our own living.
As you might expect, I chose Susan. Here's what I filled out:
What meaningful experiences have you shared? What have you learned?
* Intimacy - completely in all good/bad areas of our personal lives
* Childrearing
* Serious illness - a new appreciation of enduring qualities
* Death of parents
* Blessing of children's maturity
What paradigms or characteristics does this person possess that have influenced you? What do you admire?
* Extreme sensitivity to others' needs
* Proactivity in meeting them
* Ability to listen, deeply & really, to others
* Understanding beyond mere facts--intuition--right brain
* "Doing vs Being"
* Doing the details
By following this person's example, what can you do as a friend, leader or parent to make a difference in the lives of others?
* Listen to others more effectively
* Take action, rather than procrastinating
* Take into account the total emotional package of others
These lines speak for themselves, and there is almost nothing I can add since she continued to do and be all that I sensed she was in 1992 right to the end. But I probably should elaborate on the "being vs. doing" phrase. Throughout our married life we carried on a lively discussion about lifestyles. In these discussions I was the "be-er" and she was the "do-er." I would immerse myself in theological books, or scientific papers, trying to figure out what life (or the universe) was all about. Contemplation was my hallmark. She, however, needed little in the way of such a thing. She knew intuitively what was the right course of action, and grew impatient when we had to stand around and talk about it. She was two or three moves ahead, as a chessplayer might say, while I was still setting up the pieces.
Now that she is gone, there is no do-er to get this be-er to move on. The dulcimer (that I was going to learn in retirement) lies silent with no one to play it for. The photos ready to be placed in the albums lay in jumbled heaps with no one to share their joys with. Even the bike--on which I have spent countless hours in "being"--lies unridden in the garage on a winter day too cold for this rider to venture outdoors. But someday even winter ends, and spring finally comes. How that can be possible for me I cannot see without her. But I will never forget the glorious springs, summers and autumns that marked life with the most wonderful person in the world.
Posted by John Dishman at January 10, 2004 10:48 AM