As it works out one of the books we need to read for my winter semester is Tuesdays with Morrie. I read it over the course of a few days during the Christmas break. It was both a quick read and a slow read. Quick because there really wasn't a lot of ink on the pages - it was just vignettes of visits between the author and his dying professor. Slow because the book forces you to stop and reflect on your own life and how it intersects with the writing. And in a way that is the whole thrust of the book - simplicity and reflection. Don't get caught up in the trappings of celebrations and struggles, of life and death. Keep it simple and take time to reflect.
It was really moving because the book reminds of the time spent with two important people in my own life as they transitioned from life to death. In many ways these two individuals were among the most influential people in my life. One was my grandmother who lived into her 90s and moved into my parents house and the other was my Father-in-Law who died of cancer at the age of 55. With both of these people I was able to encounter the blessed-yet-painful journey towards death that Mitch Albom makes with Morrie Schwartz.
My love of books and learning are a direct reflection on my grandmother's investment in my life. She read to us when we were young - but she insisted that our choices were quality literature not some fluff that passes for children's stories. We plowed through some of the classics as kids. When we got older we would spend time reading - not always out loud but often we would just read in the same room together. Some of my favourite memories were of going to stay with her in the summer or when I needed a break from the life I was caught up in. I never felt judgement and there was always an empty seat a few good books to dig into. Whenever I read of about Mitch knowing he was loved by the way Morrie lit up when he entered the room I though of Nem (my grandmother). Long after her eyesight was gone she would still recognize me coming to visit. I would ask how she knew it was me and she would say that she could make out a blurry form entering her room and she knew it was either me (I am 6'3" and have been 225lbs + since grade 9) or they were moving the refrigerator into her room. She had a way of letting you know she loved you without being sappy. Her sense of humour was always present - she loved to laugh and make people laugh. Sometimes her jokes put you in your place and sometimes they lifted you out of the place you were stuck in, but they always made you laugh.
I owe my love of the church and leading congregation to my father-in-law, Dr Jim Wells. When I was first exploring Christianity and still wondering what I was getting myself into he always had time to talk and if I ever entered a conversation without questions he would challenge my thinking with questions of his own. He taught me that people didn't have to check their brains at the door if they wanted to enter the church. As I read the book I was reminded of the physical toll death takes on people - the cancer ate away his body as it progressed from organ to organ. I remember trying to help him with whatever I could. As he came closer to death the list grew longer and more personal but I was honoured that he invited me to share in his struggle. Yetmost important lesson was the way people can maintain their calling to the end if they really know why they have been put in this world at this time. If Morrie's tombstone could read "A teacher to the last" then Jim's tombstone could read "A preacher to the last." My father-in-law literally preached right up to the end. He was given 6 months to live by the doctor and people often asked him why he didn't just step away from his preaching and church duties and do the things he always wanted to do before he died. His answer was always the the same - he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. His bucket list was simple - preach the gospel, invest in the people God entrusted to him and grow the Kingdom of God.
My love of books and learning are a direct reflection on my grandmother's investment in my life. She read to us when we were young - but she insisted that our choices were quality literature not some fluff that passes for children's stories. We plowed through some of the classics as kids. When we got older we would spend time reading - not always out loud but often we would just read in the same room together. Some of my favourite memories were of going to stay with her in the summer or when I needed a break from the life I was caught up in. I never felt judgement and there was always an empty seat a few good books to dig into. Whenever I read of about Mitch knowing he was loved by the way Morrie lit up when he entered the room I though of Nem (my grandmother). Long after her eyesight was gone she would still recognize me coming to visit. I would ask how she knew it was me and she would say that she could make out a blurry form entering her room and she knew it was either me (I am 6'3" and have been 225lbs + since grade 9) or they were moving the refrigerator into her room. She had a way of letting you know she loved you without being sappy. Her sense of humour was always present - she loved to laugh and make people laugh. Sometimes her jokes put you in your place and sometimes they lifted you out of the place you were stuck in, but they always made you laugh.
I owe my love of the church and leading congregation to my father-in-law, Dr Jim Wells. When I was first exploring Christianity and still wondering what I was getting myself into he always had time to talk and if I ever entered a conversation without questions he would challenge my thinking with questions of his own. He taught me that people didn't have to check their brains at the door if they wanted to enter the church. As I read the book I was reminded of the physical toll death takes on people - the cancer ate away his body as it progressed from organ to organ. I remember trying to help him with whatever I could. As he came closer to death the list grew longer and more personal but I was honoured that he invited me to share in his struggle. Yetmost important lesson was the way people can maintain their calling to the end if they really know why they have been put in this world at this time. If Morrie's tombstone could read "A teacher to the last" then Jim's tombstone could read "A preacher to the last." My father-in-law literally preached right up to the end. He was given 6 months to live by the doctor and people often asked him why he didn't just step away from his preaching and church duties and do the things he always wanted to do before he died. His answer was always the the same - he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. His bucket list was simple - preach the gospel, invest in the people God entrusted to him and grow the Kingdom of God.
It was a great book. Go out and read it. Reflect on it.
Migwec,
Ehkosit!
