I am reading the new novel by Shauna Singh Baldwin, The Selector of Souls. Like other books of hers that I have read, it is set in India. It used to be that when I read of India, it was a place solely in my imagination, almost magical and fantastical. Now, having visited India, the sights and sounds and smells described are so real to me. The daily struggles of Damini and Anu, the main characters, are so much more poignant having met others whose lives are similarly filled with challenges and yet, lived with grace.
As I travel with Damini and Anu from Delhi to the foothills of the Himalayas, I am struck over and over again by the extent to which their lives are lived in the valleys of life, struggling with the effects of illness, poverty, abuse and powerlessness. They rarely exercise any control over their circumstances. Yet they struggle onward, with a sense of purpose and remarkably, with optimism.
This spirit, this hopefulness is something I saw in those I met in India. Over and over I witnessed the strength that comes from hope. I was introduced to people whose lives were the definition of resilience and I was left humbled by these encounters.
I have been thinking lately about the words of David in the classic 23rd Psalm:
23 The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
3 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
The words of verse 4 have been rolling around my brain: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me….” This is a passage I think of when trying to work my way through grieving the loss of a loved one. It is a passage that has brought me comfort in times of great sorrow.
This morning, it occurred to me that the passage doesn’t say, “…though I sometimes walk through the valley” and that, maybe walking through the valley of the shadow of death is actually part of our ordinary, everyday existence. Maybe we are always walking in that valley. It certainly seems to be the way it is for people in the slums and countryside of India.
We in Western society have managed, with great success, to excise death and the effects of illness from most of our lives, or at least, to live under the illusion that we have done so. When death comes near, we are often shocked, as though it is not an ordinary part of human existence. The struggles associated with disease and injury to our bodies bring us literally and figuratively, to our knees. We cry out for mercy. We ask, Why me? We plead for relief.
We often live our lives in fear of death though it is necessary a part of living, failing to fully place our hope in the God who walks with us through the darkest valleys and find our comfort in His presence.
How then shall we live? In the article Living With Dying (February 2, 2013 Winnipeg Free Press), the author notes that a friend of his lives in a Northern community where death comes frequently. He says of his friend:
I think death’s constant presence has made him the most ‘in the moment’ person I know. Whenever I need advice on a tough problem, he is among the first I call.
It seems that at best, death is a present reminder of the power of your life and the life of those you love. I observe that those who have confronted death with frequency, approach their lives with purpose and a constant sense of possibility.
That sounds like a good place to start.
Looking for a Fine Balance 