IF

Life has a lot of "choose this or that" options, and sometimes we don't get it right. When we don't know which option to choose, or we doubt that we'll make the wise and prudent choice, often we seek counsel of those wiser and more experienced than ourselves. I'm so thankful for the giants in my life who provide advice, (sought or not at times!) and while in the end the choices are mine to make and outworkings of decisions mine to live with, I've more of a blessed life due to the trusted people in it.

Many years ago though I read this poem, IF, by Rudyard Kipling. I've loved it ever since and in some ways have to admit it's been a bit of a compass point with how I handle situations - I'm not a man, but I am a human and seek to be a better one.

IF.....

IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Sonnet 14

This evening whilst packing I picked up one of my first collectible books, Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It's one of those books I love, not only for the memories and typed contents, but also the exquisite craftsmanship. It's in a hand molded gold case, with the book itself being bound in Italy with a rich red fabric cover, embroidered with flowers. I picked it up tonight, looking for something comfortable and beautiful and read the poem below, a poem that I think many of us would agree with.

Sonnets from the Portuguese 14

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

I love her for her smile ... her look ... her way

Of speaking gently, ... for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—

For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may

Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

I fly out tomorrow to New Zealand and I'm dreading feeling alone. It's the one outstanding emotion I remember from my Pop's funeral, sobbing at the grave site as he was buried - clinging to a cousin who I hardly knew. As we say goodbye to my grandma, I'm sorry my children will never meet her, that she will never have the chance to meet the husband whom for years she has prayed, and that I will never get to tell her one more time how much she's loved.

Every time I think about her death I feel ill to my stomach. Nan's always been there, a constant in an inconsistent world, loving each of her children and grandchildren for who they were, for who we are - exactly what Elizabeth Barrett Browning is speaking about in this sonnet. The love we hope for in a lover is the same hope we have for our friendships and family. It's a theme that's just as relevant today as it was in the 1800's when EBB penned the sonnett, echoed in today's pop culture by Blessid Union of the Soul's song "She likes me for me".

And yet, as I reflect upon these thoughts, I'm reminded that Nan did know how much she was loved, and one day, one day we will all be together and pain and tears shall be no more, and we will all know how very much we are loved.

a lifetime ending a world away

As I write this post the life of someone very dear to me is slipping away - the only person who calls me Beth.

God be with you Nan, I hope you pull through.