Wednesday, June 2, 2010

"Hearts, Like Muffled Drums, Beating Funeral Marches to the Grave"

I have spent the last few days in contemplation of death. Not as some morbid pre-occupation, but rather because of recent events. Of course the observance of Memorial day and the images of the headstones row by row lining the graves of those who paid the ultimate price to advance the cause of liberty and in defense of this nation has drawn my thoughts in that direction. Also, it was 2 years ago that my grandmother and my uncle passed away on consecutive days. It brings to mind an old poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow entitled “A Psalm of Life.” So much of his sentiment in the verse can have direct bearing to my feeling. Consider its words now.

A Psalm of Life
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.


I recall with some sadness my relationship with my grandmother. I was by no means the model grandchild. It’s not that I did things necessarily to “shame” the family (I suppose that job was left to my cousins).  I just lived in general procrastination and dalliance of what I should have done in relation to her. As an example, some months after her death I found some Mothers Day cards in my desk that I took the time to fill out, yet never sent. I always intended to call, but always put it off. Things like that characterize the relationship that I had with my grandmother. If I have learned one thing in regard to such an attitude it would be to act now! All of the things I should have said or done have lost their place. They hang eternally on the wall of “what I should have done.” In Longfellow’s words “Act, - act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!” There is no time to change what you should have done once the chance is gone.

Longfellow also wrote “Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!” When I think of my uncle Gary, I cannot help but bear in my his  character. I’m reminded of the song “That He Didn’t Have to Be” sung by Brad Paisley. When my uncle met my aunt, she was single with two daughters and a widowed mother who all needed something. Uncle Gary was it! He filled a huge hole in the Jones family. Yet with his passing, the gaping maw once again is there only this time it’s larger. He was an excellent provider, a model husband, a good father, and a son-in-law that was more like a son. He left behind an example for me in my own life that I often do not live up to. It was after him that our second son was named.



Yet while these things, always ensconced in my mind, make their way to my consciousness.,  the preparation of a funeral sermon has also driven my ponderings. I came to Conroe in August, 2009 while Amber and I vacationed in Houston to visit friends. Little did I know that that vacation would lead me to  the work that I do with the Woodland Hills church. During that visit I made the acquaintance of a tall stately looking gentleman whose wife had relatives in Dumas (I live there at the time). The memory of this handsome couple, James and Lou Ann Webb, remained in my mind. When we moved here, it came to my attention that James suffered from heart issues. Yet in my visits with him it seemed not to worry him. Though his issues were ever pressing, he did not allow them to daunt his smile or optimism. He passed from this life on June first. He was a faithful member of the church here, and his absence from the assemblies will be sorely missed. The time I have spent looking over his godly life is indeed reflective of Longfellow’s words:

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.


To contemplate death from time to time, I am quite sure, is natural to us all. To think of the legacy, or perhaps lack thereof , that we will leave behind can be a breathtaking and even fearsome task. What will others remember of me? Will others remember me, or will I simply be a name on a headstone and in a family tree that is forgotten within a hundred years? Even further still, what will happen to me? Do I have an immortal soul? Longfellow expressed the following sentiment that serves as an fitting conclusion.

Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

2 comments:

  1. My Grandmother and Uncle passed away within 2 weeks of each other about 12 years ago.

    Good and sobering thoughts.

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  2. You know, I didn't add it to the blog, but Amber's (my wife) grandmother died about a week after all of that. Needless to say, the summer of 2008 was a tough one.

    ReplyDelete