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Print Dear Gabby, I’ve read a lot of your columns in ninetyandnine.com, and you seem to be a very wise woman. You’re always talking about living almost a century. Well, I’ve only lived sixteen years and I’m not nearly as wise as you, but I’d like to be some day! So my question is—What’s the most important life lesson you’ve learned in all your years of living? I’m not talking about living for God. I’m talking about the biggest lesson you’ve learned besides living for God. Why am I asking you this question? Well, I think that one way for me to learn wisdom is to learn from people I consider wise. And I consider you wise. So, that’s why I’m asking. Thanks for your time, Miss Still Young in Yonkers Dear Miss Yonkers, My dear Harry died on a chilly, wet day in November of 1977. We’d been married for 52 ½ years, and he’d been my anchor throughout all the storms life had brought me. The very first time he was a support to me was when I was brokenhearted over my break-up with the absolutely unsuitable (for me) Frederick VonDenkkerguski. It didn’t take me long afterward to promptly fall out of love with Frederick and in love with Harry. And the day I married him was one of the best days of my life. Harry held me as I cried over our infertility, the death of my sister, and a few years later the loss of our parents. He grounded me when my tendency was to fly off in a thousand directions at one time. I felt safe in Harry’s arms even when our country was at war in the forties and when our president, his brother, and Dr. King were assassinated in the sixties. He comforted me when four young men from our church died in Vietnam. He taught me to drive (at the age of 48!) and which direction to turn a screw (lefty-loosey, righty-tighty). He was my example in how to serve God and how to give to God and help my community. He was a magnificent man—and handsome too, with the manliest shoulders you’ve ever seen! He was always there for me. And then he died. He’d been sick for a couple of weeks so it wasn’t a surprise, but suddenly the man I’d been leaning on for over a half-century was gone. Who was going to hold me? Who was going to take care of me and reassure me and be a strong shoulder for me to cry on? Oh, people were kind and I had more casseroles in my refrigerator than I knew what to do with, but I just felt lost—like a half a person. Then, on a cold morning two weeks after that dark November day, Harry’s nephew Joseph called me and asked if he could stop by. He arrived carrying an envelope. Joseph told me that Harry had come to him several years before and had asked him for a favor. “He gave me this letter, Aunt Gabby,” Harry said, handing it to me, “and asked me to give it to you upon the event of his death. I’m sorry I didn’t get it to you immediately, but last night as I was falling asleep, I suddenly remembered, so first thing this morning I went to the bank to get it out of my lock box.” So what did the letter say? I had learned so much from Harry throughout the years of our marriage, but what he taught me in that letter-from-beyond death is what has been my most important life lesson. The letter was very short—Harry never had as many words to say as I always did—and to the point: “My Dearest Gabrigail, If you’re reading this letter, I’ve obviously gone on to my eternal reward, leaving you alone. I’m sorry about that, because I would never leave you if I had a choice. Please remember this one thing: It’s not what happens to you, but it’s how you respond to what happens to you that matters the most. I love you more than you’ll ever know and when the last day comes, we’ll be together again. Love, Harry" At my recent 100th birthday party, in the midst of all the cake and cameras, I suddenly remembered Harry’s letter and his reminder. And, no matter what has happened to me in these years since his death, I’ve tried to live by his advice. Many sad and confusing things have happened since then. I’ve gotten older and more feeble (although I hate to have to say that!). I now live in a retirement community and need help with most of my day-to-day activities. Our country has been attacked and is now again at war. Other places in the world, including England just recently, are struggling with terrorism. People I love have struggled with sickness. We’ve all had financial problems during different times in life. Life, all by itself, is hard. When I look at the sorrow in life, I realize I could just sit back and feel discouraged and depressed. Instead, I choose to respond to the sorrows in life by reaching out to others and to God. If it’d been my choice, I would have given birth to many children, been married to Harry for 80 or 90 years, and no one I loved would have ever died. We don’t get to choose our sorrows, though. The part we get to choose is how we respond to our sorrows. And that’s my greatest life lesson. Respond right—no matter what. If you start practicing that at your young age (instead of waiting until the last part of your life like I did), you’ll be much wiser than I’ve ever tried to be. Sincerely Sincere, Gabby
ninetyandnine.com © 2005, ninetyandnine.com ---------- Gabrigail VanBurden has been offering advice for longer than most of you have been alive. Email your practical Apostolic life questions to Gabby@ninetyandnine.com and be prepared for some straight answers! |
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