The Melkite Priests, Deacons and the Bishop began to sing the funeral chant. The words were not unlike my own Roman Catholic prayers. The casket, draped with roses had been preceded to the altar by a bagpipe and the immediate family. It was a unique fusion of customs since John was a Roman Catholic, Scottish immigrant who had adopted his wife’s Melkite Greek Catholic tradition.
Now, the casket was resting quietly in the middle of the altar area surrounded by clergy. A large photographic portrait of my friend, John, rested on an easel facing the mourners. Dressed in full formal attire, he was smiling his typical radiant smile.
As the wave of chants swept over me, I found myself pondering the many years I had known John. We had been introduced by a mutual friend and client 21 years earlier. Having just moved back to California from Ohio we needed a tax accountant. Our friend recommended John, and even though his office was 28 miles away, he became our “tax man.”
Twice a year (once before the end of the calendar year to assure we had paid sufficient taxes and once during tax season), we made our pilgrimage to John’s office. Strangely, it never seemed like business. Each and every visit felt like a social visit.
For a moment the chanted prayers brought my wandering mind back to the funeral.
What was this strange gift John had for making something as dull, and potentially threatening, as tax preparation, an enjoyable event; one to which we actually looked forward? It was more than just his positive attitude and love of life.
As I rolled this question over in my mind, the answer seemed obvious but not necessarily logical. Our good friend had a remarkable ability to live in the present moment and remain focused on the people he was engaging. I, on the other hand, was the king of the “yes, buts…” and “what ifs?”
John never rushed; he was always patient, kind and available. Once I jokingly told him I was “shocked to discover he had other clients” because he gave everyone such special, personal attention.
The jingling sound of the bells on the thurible, as the coffin was being incensed by one of the Deacon,s brought my attention back to the funeral. The final prayers were sung as the coffin was led up the aisle and the preliminary hum of the bagpipe commenced. In that moment, I was reminded of an old Eskimo proverb: “Yesterday is ashes. Tomorrow is green wood. Only today does the fire burn brightly.”
The gift of time on this earth may be the greatest gift God gives us. Without the time to use them, our other gifts don’t matter match. But, rather than spending our valuable gift of time in the here and now, many of us wander off. We find ourselves worrying about the “shoulds” in life – should have done this, should be doing that or should do it tomorrow – and it sometimes makes us miserable.
In this respect, misery is a destination, rather than a condition. Most of us have to travel (mentally) to find misery in our lives. We visit our pasts, which are laden with regrets, guilt, old hurts, and unresolved issues. Our futures are a mysterious fog of uncertainty. What will tomorrow bring? The unknown future becomes a vessel which is filled with dread and angst.
We are certainly entitled to our happy memories. Happiness, however, most often resides in the here and now. Unfortunately though, most of us operate in a realm of marginal attentiveness, cycling back and forth through past, present and future.
God made us stewards of our time and we have a responsibility to use that time well. Time is wasted when we spend it regretting our past or doubting our future rather than living in the joy of the present.
John’s gift was his passion for the intense happiness of the present. Like John, we are called to live here…now…and forever.
Dear God: Focus me on the present moment. Cleanse my heart of any worthless, evil or distracting thoughts.
“If you aren't in the moment, you are either looking forward to uncertainty, or back to pain and regret.” ~Jim Carrey, Canadian-American actor and comedian (b1962)
©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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