The eyes of the aging man filled with tears as he reflected on the conflict and confusion of the church community he led and deeply loved. Even as he had given his heart and soul to this place, it was now changing. As its leader, even in his frail physical state, he wanted the hurt to be healed and the ease of the community to be what it was 50 to 60 years ago.
The institution is now filled by a generation of men and women he doesn’t understand, whose methods of connecting and communicating he can’t figure out. Yet, he is called to lead. But how? For what? What can he give? What is his final legacy? He longed to make a difference. How can he give them what he loved?
As I sat with him, I recognized my own longing for the past, those good old days. Yet, I also know that these old ways are dying. The core institutions of our country, be it church, education, government, or even symphony and art guilds are dramatically changing in form, style and sustained relevance.
Together we wondered and imagined, How it might be possible to lead now? What worke
d before? What if we created a new compelling vision to get more people involved? Where is the commitment? What if…? He longed to give from the life he had known.
Then I recognized that we are bargaining with a death that is staring us in the face. It is time to let go. I recognized his struggle as similar to one I had seen in my own husband, Mark, as he died of cancer at age 51. For several weeks, Mark lived in the despair of having to let go of life as he knew it, his family, of a being a leader with a vision to make a difference. He had pushed to hold on, to fight for his past and own ideals.
Yet, he determined to finally let go. He gave us all of what he had left – love. He oozed with love with eyes of compassion, a gentle touch and a spirit fully present in the now of his life. He didn’t try to change us, impose his life dreams on us for us to complete, or make demands on us to fulfill his longings. He just loved us and blessed us into a life to move forward in our own way, not his.
This was the legacy Mark left for my children and me. This grace filled act of love led my family forward into life. It wasn’t a great plan, a compelling vision or some even any words of wisdom about a past life. It was love. It grounded our future.
Perhaps this is the ultimate legacy – we who are aging – can give our children and those we lead. Maybe this is what our pain and grief will teach us. It will teach us to love, to love fully with no strings attached. Maybe, just maybe the legacy and the gift our institutions need from us in our leadership is to step back, let go and then love with all the might we can muster.