While volunteering for a local hospice group I once sat with a comatose lady who was near death. Her family was coming in from far away and my coordinator wanted someone from hospice to be there. In later life the lady had written a small book, had many copies printed and gave them away without reservation. Making small talk, her children recommended the read and offered me a copy. It was a rambling collection from her journey with Jesus and scriptures with backstory into her experience. I took it with a simple thank you. Small talk was just that. Most of the hour they spent there I gave them privacy from nearby. They left and with another 20 minutes to clear the building I put the book back on her bedside table and called my hospice coordinator; “Everything went well and I am done here.”
With an ever so short scan of her book I noted that her writing skills were limited but whoever edited the piece knew what they were doing. To her credit, her message was unmistakably clear. The idea that her story was important enough to her that she wanted it to endure even after she was gone, I thought it remarkable. It was her gift to all others and if nobody ever picked it up it wouldn’t be for her lack of effort. Writing a book requires a huge effort. I thought, “I could do that.” My religious odyssey ran parallel to her Belief for a couple of decades but all along the way I was looking for an off ramp. With all due respect and no hard feelings I default to Karl Marx and his view on religion; “The opiate of the masses.” Like a prescribed drug, if you need it you should have it. Like mud on my shoes, religion would have its moment and then be left outside on the porch to dry up fall away. My shoes would go on to serve me well without the mud.
I try to imagine what my autobiography would look like and it’s one of the few times my imagination has failed me. My memory is pretty good and all those years, all those places, so many people; I wouldn’t know how to begin. I have started several large writing projects only to stumble with the outline before I ever got to the story. I probably need an editor to keep track of the big picture. I do alright with vignettes and short stories but anything that needs an outline leaves me at a loss. But failure is not the end-all worst that can happen so I may give it another try. I have always believed that falling down and getting back up are perfect partners. There is something to be learned every time and that repeating cycle is the story of my life.
With an ever so short scan of her book I noted that her writing skills were limited but whoever edited the piece knew what they were doing. To her credit, her message was unmistakably clear. The idea that her story was important enough to her that she wanted it to endure even after she was gone, I thought it remarkable. It was her gift to all others and if nobody ever picked it up it wouldn’t be for her lack of effort. Writing a book requires a huge effort. I thought, “I could do that.” My religious odyssey ran parallel to her Belief for a couple of decades but all along the way I was looking for an off ramp. With all due respect and no hard feelings I default to Karl Marx and his view on religion; “The opiate of the masses.” Like a prescribed drug, if you need it you should have it. Like mud on my shoes, religion would have its moment and then be left outside on the porch to dry up fall away. My shoes would go on to serve me well without the mud.
I try to imagine what my autobiography would look like and it’s one of the few times my imagination has failed me. My memory is pretty good and all those years, all those places, so many people; I wouldn’t know how to begin. I have started several large writing projects only to stumble with the outline before I ever got to the story. I probably need an editor to keep track of the big picture. I do alright with vignettes and short stories but anything that needs an outline leaves me at a loss. But failure is not the end-all worst that can happen so I may give it another try. I have always believed that falling down and getting back up are perfect partners. There is something to be learned every time and that repeating cycle is the story of my life.
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