Thirty seven years ago, on January 26, 1973, my dad passed away unexpectedly, and his funeral was on the 31st of January. So quite naturally, he's been on my mind some during this past week. Obviously, his sudden death changed my life, and I'm not gonna lie, it was not really for the better. But in each and every experience I go through in life, I try to take something positive from the episode, so at least it's not a dead loss (no pun intended, though you can laugh if you want to.)
Although it can be difficult sometimes to find the positives in a bad situation, it can be done if you are sincere in your efforts, and this week something has occurred to me which seems worth commenting on, if only for the purpose of communal therapy. (Cheaper than the real thing, and often just as effective!)
A pertinent digression here. [I've tried to be better about not haring off on tangents lately, really I have, but this one applies, I promise.] Recently, someone I know heard that I write a blog, and said, somewhat derisively, "Oh, so you write your diary online." I was somewhat non-plussed by that assessment, never having thought of it in quite that way. It is always interesting to hear another point of view when you think something is clear cut and self-evident.
His implication, [okay, it was based on more than just the blog, I'll admit,] was that I am just another crazy person in cyber-space, and since that is an analysis I leave to others to judge, I didn't have much of a response. But in my mind, it's not really a diary, not a day to day one, anyway, so that unexpected characterization made me think about whether or not this weekly exposition is simply the narcissist in me revealing itself, or if there is a greater purpose.
My hope is that ultimately I can give comfort or at least a laugh through our common experience, and by revealing pieces of myself, we can find each other. That desire goes to the heart of my blog today - by reaching out with my experience, I hope that others will be positively affected from knowing they are not alone, even if I don't know them, and they don't know me.
[So now I have my answer for my friend if it ever comes up again, and more importantly, I have reaffirmed the answer for myself, too. It's good to look inward periodically to make sure you understand yourself, even if no one else does, I think.]
Anyway, getting back on topic, I don't honestly recall a lot about my dad's funeral, because I was lost in a haze of incomprehension at how quickly life had changed, and it had been a bit difficult to absorb in such a short time frame. But I do recall one thing from the sermon our pastor gave which has stuck with me all these years, and really informed my adult behavior in a permanent way. It was, in a sense, my dad's true legacy to me, one thing that I can point to and acknowledge as his ongoing contribution to who I became as an adult.
But first, a background note. [As differentiated from a tangent, this is critical information to know in making sense of the story. Definitely not just another side track.] As Minnesota Lutherans, we don't talk ourselves up very easily, and we extend that to the members of our immediate families, as well. We can be inwardly as proud as anyone, but we don't talk about it in public, because that is just, well, Not Quite Nice. So even though I know my dad frequently did things for others and touched a lot of lives, I didn't really hear about it much, because he would never have talked about himself that way.
I can easily envision my mother, then, in planning my dad's funeral service, asking the pastor not to make the sermon a big eulogy for my dad. She would be uncomfortable with that kind of thing, like we were bragging or something. Rather, knowing her, she would use the service as an opportunity to present the Christ centered life my dad led to those present, his final gift of himself to us, in a way.
[Yes, Mom, I will be sure your service is handled in a similar way when that time comes. We will not spend a lot of time talking about what a fabulous person you have been your entire life, or how much you meant to us.... Ya right. I am cut from a different cloth, and it will be all about you, for once, and there is nothing you can do about it!]
As I said, I don't recall most of that sermon. (I don't recall a word of the message from my wedding, either, so obviously, I am not to be relied on for recall after stressful major life events!) But I do remember part of the message was about how you may do some small thing and influence other people without ever knowing it, and my dad exemplified this in a positive way.
Somewhere in the back of my head, that idea hit home for me. It prompted a lifelong awareness that we don't live in isolation, and what we do in life is important, not only to us, but to those around us, even if we don't know it. From that moment was born my mantra - if I would be embarrassed to have my mother or my children know what I'm doing, I probably shouldn't be doing it.
The flip side of that, however, is an awareness that sometimes you are influencing people for good without knowing it, as well. You may never hear about it - very few people have the time or awareness to come back later and tell you how you made a difference for them without even trying. But rest assured, those people are out there, and those incidents matter deeply.
One of the stories I do know about came to us much later, years after he passed away, from a young woman who had met my dad by chance when she was having trouble in her life. The details don't matter, but many years later, she had the opportunity to tell my mom that it was because of my dad's influence that she became a Christian and reclaimed her God given life. Hearing that made us feel so good about him, knowing that he was so lovingly remembered by someone we weren't even aware of, and that he had been such a positive influence in the life of someone he barely touched.
I have thought of that story this week, as I was thinking about my dad and the legacy he left me, as his daughter. That legacy includes many of the same things that all good fathers leave their children, of course, and I don't mean to give those qualities short shrift. He was a wonderful person in the ways that count most, and we were richly blessed by the time we had. The full church at his funeral was a tribute to the number of lives he touched, and it gives me great pleasure to know that he is remembered well by so many people.
But as my parent, and as a person, I think the greatest gift my father left me was his positive example of a shared life well lived, not because he thought someone was keeping score, but because that is who he was. It is an example I try to emulate every day, with an awareness that no matter how long or short a time we have on this rotating rock, we can make a difference for someone else, and that is the most important thing we will ever do.
Not every chance meeting has to be life changing, of course. Most, in fact, are fleeting incidents that make little difference other than in the moment, here and gone without another thought. Sometimes, it's as simple as making someone smile in the midst of a hard day, or giving a helping hand when someone needs it. But I think it is important to be aware that there are times when we do something life changing for someone else and we don't even know it, and that it matters, to them and to us, how we live our everyday lives not only in our time, but for all time.
I have no patience for these silly celebrities who issue statements that they are not role models, and shouldn't be taken as such. Usually, these foolish statements are presented as the self-indulgent excuse for something stupid they have done for which they have been rightfully called out, but for which they do not want to be held accountable.
Apparently, it is obvious to everyone but them that there is a price to be paid when people are shelling out a lot of money for them to do what they do, and they are receiving all sorts of ego-feeding attention and special treatment because of it. Their cost is that people have the right to an expectation of a certain standard of behavior, which is moderated by the type of fame you have, and to comment upon it when you fall short. Different benchmarks are going to be applied to Tiger Woods or Miley Cyrus or John Edwards than are applied to Alex Rodriguez or Charlie Sheen or Bill Clinton, because the audience expectations are different in each situation.
But for better or for worse, they are all role models to a very wide audience, and they need to realize that with the money and the privilege comes scrutiny. If they don't like the negative judgements, then behave. It really isn't that complicated.
Just like celebrities, we are all role models to those whose lives we touch, whether we want to be or not. The decision is not ours whether we will be the role model, that judgement falls to those who are watching us. We can only control what type of model we want to be, and how we influence others by our choices. That is the bottom line, and it's a solid one, not dotted or wavy.
I have heard, on occasion, where something small and unintentional that I have done has made an impact on someone else, and it is always surprising to know that someone as insignificant as I am, in a planet full of people, can make a difference. I don't mean that in the way of false humility, of course I have my place, and it is important to those who are close to me. But in the general scheme of the world, I'm a teensy little cog, and I never really imagine anyone is paying attention to me.
And yet, my actions affect other people all the time, whether I am helpful or hurtful, happy or sad, pleasant or angry. It is impossible to know whether the smile you flash at the unhappy clerk might not just change their outlook for the rest of the day, but it has happened. You will never know what accident you may have averted by simply allowing another car in, or not taking offense when you could have. You are modeling adult behavior for your children and their friends all the time, and you never know what lessons they will learn from watching you.
My dad was not perfect, and he made his mistakes, some of which were bigger than he would have liked, I'm sure. But when he left us, he also left an example that was worth emulating, and which has served me well over the years. I would encourage you to think hard about how you want to influence people, because you are doing it every day, whether you know it or not, regardless of your intention.
I have been blessed in my life by too many people to enumerate here, from teachers and bosses to friends and relatives, and to begin would be to leave someone out, which would cheapen the entire effort. Besides, my list is not yours, and it is your own life list that I want you to think about. Consider those people who have, in some way, moved you or reached you or touched your life, and think about how many times those actions were insignificant on the surface, but meant everything to you in the moment.
My dad's memory is a living one, because he lives on through his example in me and in my brother, and beyond us, in our children. Although we still miss him all these years later, I think he would be pleased to know that those he touched have touched someone else, and the circle didn't close with him, but has been expanding ever since.
Every time I write a blog post, I am aware that people I do not know will read it, and I sometimes wonder how my words will affect someone who doesn't see my intentions clearly from my body language or my tone of voice, or just from the basic knowledge of who I am and how I generally live my life. It is always my hope, whatever the topic, to move people in a positive direction, and to uplift those who are hurting through the realization that they are not alone in their experience, even if they disagree with my conclusions.
I wish everyone had the perspicacity to know just how valuable they are in someone's world, even if they are a little cog like me. You are making a difference to someone, you can count on it, because the life we lead touches that of too many others not to. However you make your mark, be sure it's the one you want it to be, because time is a capsule that follows you into the future, and forever is a long time to be remembered for the wrong reasons.
Thanks, Dad, for being the kind of person who filled a church with your goodness. I hope that when my time comes, I will leave your legacy untarnished.
