CHAPTER 27
AFTERTHOUGHTS
Perhaps the most
confusing part of having been a Protestant minister and wife through the years
of 1943 to 1985 has been to be hired mind, soul, heart and strength. Many ministers have resisted the impulse of
congregations to hire the whole person.
They have set rigid hours, or rigid days off. Some ministers' wives have cracked under the
strain of trying to be all things to all people. Some indulge in self‑pity that seems
disproportionate to me. We have
certainly never been overworked by any outside force, and I think the average
congregation is extremely understanding and considerate.
But there is a sense
in which one is thought to set oneself up as different or apart. The notion that one can be all things to all
people is of course absurd. To be a
"servant of Christ" does not
mean that one wants to be a slave to either a church or Pope or
congregation. Of course that is
undesirable as well as being impossible.
Yet there is a sense in which "the fun" may go out of things
if they're not spontaneous, and if a church is always expecting you to fill a
certain role, it's easy to either become pompous or hypocritical. Bob used to say occasionally that it would be
nice to get out of the ministry so that one could be a real Christian. When all your "Christian deeds"
promote your own professional welfare, you become vaguely corrupted.
When I first
discovered the Japanese word, "Muga", I was entranced. Muga means doing a thing without thinking,
"I am doing it." I like to
think a swimming fish has muga ‑‑ it is not thinking, "I am a
fish swimming elegantly in my place in my school of fishes..." He is just SWIMMING, I'd like to think as God
intended him to. Whereas there have been
times in my life when I have taken communion feeling very conscious of my
behavior or even of my clothes, at
other times I have been in a state of muga ‑‑ I wish it had always
been so.) Actually I think the Japanese
word has a slightly more specialized meaning:
a true state of muga would be the opera star who belts out an aria after
so much study that he or she no longer thinks of technique or appearance, but
just makes a beautiful sound with no apparent effort. It seems to me that more of life should be
like that. Wouldn't sainthood be that
kind of shining life?
Dick Stein once said,
"The Methodist Church was designed to give every minister a guilty
conscience." How does one live with
a job that is never done? This is the
problem of all creative work and all idealistic people who hope for social
improvement. Ministers AND their wives
have to cope with this. The goal is not
to be a saint but to be a good human being.
Buttrick was helpful in never running away from the fact that we are
human creatures.
The longer I live the
more I have admired the people who just hang in there and try to do their best
without taking themselves too seriously.
There are plenty of dynamic star players who burn out all too quickly.
Bob and I have managed
to ENJOY the years far more than the average couple in our position. I would give Bob credit for having a lot more
humility than the average minister ‑‑ if anything he has tended to
undervalue himself. He and I have complementary
skills in some ways. He has had the
discipline and literary, creative talent to produce well‑constructed,
solid and inspiring sermons for all these years. He has been willing to do his share of the
"dirty work", fixing the mimeograph, investigating the smell and
extracting the dead rat (he used to list his occupation as "pastor and
assistant janitor" ‑ meaning that he did the work that was too
demeaning for the church custodian). He
has been unfailingly good humored, accepted the suggestions of others and has
had a gift for getting a congregation to work together in harmony.
I think I have more of
an ability to become intimate with people.
I like making calls better than he does.
I have often been the instigator in seeing where human relations could
mesh or not mesh. We're both good idea
people but in different ways. We have
both been peacemakers.
Now it is 1990:
We have two more
grandchildren: Robin Cherese born
October 6, 1986 to David and Priscilla; and Meagan Amanda born April 26, 1987
to Bill and Kathy. Each one adds a new
dimension to our lives. Robin opened new
vistas for all of us when we realized that she had Down Syndrome. Thanks to her loving and insightful parents
it has been a growing experience for all of us to cherish this very special
little girl. And like so many
experiences in my life it has strengthened and deepened my faith.
Since we retired two
years ago, we have made two big trips back East renewing very dear
relationships with long‑lost cousins and friends ‑ Ethel Havens
Shaw, John Lambias, Mary Burrowes Snyder, etc.
The centerpiece of each visit was a pilgrimage to see Charles and Keiko
and family during the two years he is visiting professor at St. Lawrence
University in
My 50th College
Reunion at Oberlin was a greater satisfaction than I could have hoped. We had all "mellowed" with age and
I felt the experience did me good. So
many of the things I had hoped for in life had come true ‑‑ far
beyond my wildest expectations. It was a
satisfaction like reading a good book.
Another satisfaction
was the publication of "Object Talks from A to Z" by Standard
Publishing Company. The royalties have
been nice and the whole experience has been fun. I was interested that they used most all of
my illustrations but gave me no credit but turned them over to their own artist
who made them look more "Sundayschoolish" but more professional of
course.
Bob's pursuit of his
McCabe ancestry and putting together that story has been a major joy and made
us feel extra close to all his family.
Now that we are
"completely retired" and living in a comfortable "manor" or
apartment with a beautiful view here in Rossmoor, we are very conscious of how
good our life is. And how short! We just returned from a thrilling trip to
In recent years we
thought a lot about whether we'd ever find a place to live in retirement. But that was only in fairly recent
years. We were too busy living in our
early and middle married life to worry about the future. In fact I sometimes wonder at some of the
young people (I mean 30‑40 year old) who are so much more retirement
conscious than we ever dreamed of being, even while they have far greater
financial security in technical terms than we ever had.
So much of it is all
in your head. We never thought we were
POOR in the depression. We knew we
didn't have an extra dime, but we didn't think poor. To me anyone who lives in Rossmoor is
rich. Our whole country is rich. It haunts me that I haven't made much if any
headway with the huge needs we pray about ‑‑ the very real poverty
and hunger. And then it doesn't haunt
me. And I am insulated and comfy. So it is always unfinished. I don't want to end on a gloomy or pious
note. I've had a nice life. If I died tomorrow, I couldn't ask for
anything more, but then I said that 30 or 40 years ago...
Adela Johnston, my
dear neighbor, said one day, "Tell me ONE good thing about growing
old." Maybe that's what I can spend
some time thinking about...