Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, March 6, 1994 TAG: 9403030068
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Cody Lowe
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
"What a world, what a world," she cries, agonizing over the twist of fate\ that brought her accidental destruction at the hands of a child.
We never know what is in store for us, no matter how much in control we seem\ to be.
Sometimes we could utter that line as a plaintive wail, crying out against\ the injustices we must bear.
Other times we could shout it as a celebration of life, affirming the goodness of creation.
It's a handy phrase. One I've repeated often, and that comes to mind now in\ one of those milestone months all of us pass through some time in our lives.
I've just passed the age that I've outlived my father.
When he died 22 years ago last month - at age 41 - I knew he was young.\ Though I was 19 and still blinded by the illusion of immortality, I understood\ that 41 was way too young to die.
Dad had never seemed old. He and my mother were the kind of parents who\ welcomed my friends into their home to play pool, turn the stereo up, sit and\ talk.
By 1972, I had been in college a couple of years, but some of my high-school\ buddies who had made my parents' basement their second home still came by just\ to see Mom and Dad.
It was a little over a year between the time his cancer was first diagnosed and his death. So we had some time to prepare, but not enough to squeeze in a\ full lifetime of advice and companionship and comfort and love.
What a world, what a world.
This also is the month that my wife and I will note that our first daughter\ would have been 18 years old had she not died of a rare inherited genetic\ defect when she was 14 months old.
This would have been the year she could have voted, graduated from high\ school, gone off to college. This is the year we should have felt the pain of\ separation as she left us for a life of her own that we couldn't fully be part\ of.
What a world, what a world.
But this is a month, also, for happier reflection.
Next week, Doris and I will celebrate 20 years of marriage.
Nearly every couple who stays together that long, I suppose, recognizes it\ as a bittersweet anniversary.
Some days, it seems it can't possibly have been two decades since that happy Saturday afternoon. Other days, it seems that was a lifetime of struggle\ ago.
Perhaps the one lesson we've learned above others is that marriages don't\ last this long without working hard at it. We fail sometimes, we get tired, we\ disappoint.
Often the work yields joy, though. And the stability and love and support\ of family is a powerful payoff when life outside presses too hard.
What a world, what a world.
My older daughter passes her own milestone this month, too.
She'll be 16 in two weeks. She's already embracing the independence that is\ the mark of adulthood. She is an indescribable source of pride. Mature,\ responsible, loving, caring, thoughtful, bright.
My mother used to tell me that she liked me better the older I got. It was\ a sentiment - like many others we hear from our parents - that I couldn't\ appreciate until I experienced it with my own children.
It is so true, though. The older Carrie gets, the more kindred spirits we\ become. The more we can share. The better we understand each other.
That's true as well of our 10-year-old daughter, LeeEllen, who's already\ shown signs of maturity beyond her years.
What a world, what a wonderful world.
So I'm declaring the beginning of spring a bit early this year.
I'll celebrate the unpredictability of life. Just as we may be surprised yet by a blizzard on the tail end of winter, none of us can know what the season has in store.
My dad often said he wanted to live to be 100. I don't think it was because he had a fear of death, since he was confident of an afterlife with his Savior.
His hope for a long life was rooted, rather, in the consummate joy he found in the everyday life around him. That was concentrated in his family and focused in his wife. But there was joy also in his work, in his house and land, in the future.
I grieve sometimes still that he - and a little girl named Tracy - aren't here to celebrate with us.
I have learned, though, to savor every drop of joy in the life God gives us - because we never know when this one is going to end.
What a wonderful world!
by CNB