Archive for February 18th, 2018

Lent: Conversion

amywink February 18th, 2018

Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Ephesians 4: 31-32

Stacey and I spent the last months of our writing time thinking together about the larger issues of our lives, what meaning we could find, where our ideas converged, where they differed. She had evolved in her thinking about what might happen after death, leaning toward the ideas of reincarnation. She was not Christian in her thinking, though she knew the Bible and I would have never challenged her to a scriptural citation competition. We respected each other and our faiths were never an argument, though we did often tease each other. “We’re all God’s children,” I’d say, “even atheists.” And she would retort, “If that’s the story you want to believe.” So we each grew stronger as we leaned against each other.

We did have wonderful conversations, deep and thoughtful, because we knew our time was coming to a close and what else to say but the things that matter? Why not go as deep as we had time for? I did not seek to bring her to God, or make her accept Jesus as her personal savior, in the common parlance of conversion. I always thought more like Henry David Thoreau, who when he was asked if he had made his peace with God, answered, “I did not know that we had quarreled.” If Stacey had a quarrel with God, it was not up to me to resolve it by argument or pressure. If she did not believe, I could only simply be and by my presence, hope that I was help, as she was help to me. And that was faith enough.

One of our last conversations, though, will always stay with me. She was so tired as the cancer grew and she struggled to maintain a public self that belied the depth of her illness, a kind of shield for her growing vulnerability, but one day she was just too tired. She wrote that she had gone to the pharmacy without her wig, in only her soft chemo cap and someone had turned to her, asked about her treatment, revealed her daughter had died, and offered her presence. She asked if she could pray for Stacey (which was not really an uncommon occurrence) and Stacey said yes, taking the true kindness of the offering. And something shifted.

She wrote to me of her encounter and said, “I realize my feelings have been a kind of vanity.”

I asked her what she meant.

” I have always thought, in a way, that only I can be truly kind,” she wrote. “That others are not as kind as me. I realize now that that is vanity and I see that others can be kind, that others are kind.”

“Yes” I wrote back, “Yes, that’s right.”

And I silently offered a prayer of gratitude for that conversion.