Camaraderie and Comfort
Terrors are to come. The earth
is poisoned with narrow lives.
I think of you. What you willlive through, or perish by, eats
at my heart. What have I done? I
need better answers than there areTo the pain of coming to see
what was done in blindness,
loving what I cannot save.
Wendell Berry wrote these lines, from “To My Children, Fearing for Them,” in 1968. In some strange way, I find them encouraging, bleak though they are.
As a child, I thought the world was golden. I remember the feeling of promise one morning as I sat on my tricycle on the front sidewalk, watching the mists rise off Southside Mountain and fingering the new quarter in my blue corduroy jacket. My childhood is sprinkled with moments like that — moments of keen awareness of the goodness of things.
But how did my parents feel? Was the world golden to them? Or has there always been this experience of fear for our children — of waking suddenly to the realization that the world we are preparing them for is changing too fast to comprehend? It’s not something I wrap around me like a shroud at all times, but I do feel it occasionally in stabs — the stab of “loving what I cannot save.”
Yet Berry continues,
Nor
your eyes turning toward me,
can I wish your lives unmade
though the pain of them is on me.
Something about a poem. It captures and holds the moment in words. It reminds us that this ground has been trodden before. Somehow it’s more manageable then.
The challenge is to go on loving, to go on acknowledging the moments of gold despite the awareness that, as another poet put it, “nothing gold can stay.”
6 Comments
Ruth
Yes.
Sahamamama
I’m nearly 46 and my childhood world was (mostly) golden, too. I love your vignette of the blue corduroy jacket and your quarter. We must be twins. :) I had a corduroy jacket, and I’m old enough to remember a nickle being a “big deal.” And playing with marbles in my grandparents’ sun parlor. And listening to Lawrence Welk. And watcing Jacques Costeau in black and white. I remember the first time I saw that program on a color TV — you mean a coral reef has COLOR? LOL.
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Honestly, I don’t think my parents had the same sense that “world is a mess” or “everything’s falling apart” that our generation of parents seems to have. My parents are still living — 80 and 76 — and they say that, no, the world is NOT the same for us as it was for them as parents of young children. Yes, there were crises and wars and economic concerns, but the overall consensus of the times (70s & 80s) was not (for them) the same doom and gloom that many people (including them) seem to feel today. I think this dread is global, not local, and I would mention that it is prophesied in the Bible that men will dread the times and be overwhelmed by them. But “everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved, for on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem there will be deliverance.” (Joel 2)
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We are dealing with unprecedented change, upheaval, kingdom collision, and potential for earthly loss. Jesus even said that the end times would be hard on mothers (Mark 13:17). We most closely know the vulnerability of our precious children, but as adults we also feel keenly our lack of control. Such powerful forces are at work in the world today, what can one mother do?
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When our children were born, we received them as gifts from God. We dedicated ourselves to raise them according to God’s will and ways. We try to keep in mind that they came from heaven, and are on their way back there. Our citizenship is in heaven, not here. Each day brings challenges, but each day we are closer to home.
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Another thought: Your oldest daughter is a 6th grader, right? So she’s about 11 or 12? I am not looking forward to that time of beginning to “let go,” because I’m sure there must be many pangs that go through a mother’s heart, especially with daughters (?). We love what we cannot save. Ten years ago, you could put her on your lap, wrap your arms around her, and KEEP HER THERE. :) Not so easy now, is it? (hug). Ten years from now, where will your precious child be? Unknown. (hug). I suppose that we, as our parents did, will have to trust the process — we do the best we can, and they grow, and then we are “done.” (Although mine would argue with that, LOL).
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I’ve summarized my story on another post — short version, I married and became a mother “late in life.” If I had known ten years ago what my life would be like today, I would have laughed more and cried less. I say we should rejoice in the day we are in. This is the day the LORD has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it!
Janet
Wow, speaking of “camaraderie and comfort” — ! Thanks, Ruth and Sahamamama.
Joel 2 — I’m not sure I’ve ever read it, or at least read it attentively. That’s really something… lots to think about and study on.
Amy @ Hope Is the Word
Beautiful, Janet. Thanks for sharing the poem. I feel that way every day. It hurts, but what can we do but keep loving?
Mitch
My children are older now, but I never stop worry-praying. It’s catch and release with the same fish over and over again. Sweet words. Thanks!
Barbara H.
What poignant words. Even as I wonder what this world holds for my children, I can’t imagine not having them.
I’m often encouraged by the mothers of Moses, Joseph, and Daniel, Moses in particular as the climate was so direly opposed to bringing a child into that world. Yet what would our heritage have been without him. Somehow trusting God’s grace for our children is harder that for ourselves, but I trust they will find Him sufficient.