Clergy from left, Deacon Amy Schmuck, Deacon Cynthia Biddlecomb, retired, The Rev. Mary Ann Hill and The Rev. Lynn Finnegan. Photo by Nate Limback/ladailypost.com
By The Rev. Mary Ann Hill
Rector
Trinity on the Hill
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
I would not be surprised if you are already familiar with this quote. Memes have been made of it. It’s been tattooed on countless arms and printed on myriad coffee mugs. It’s the last line of a poem by Mary Oliver. In this poem, entitled The Summer Day, Oliver reflects on creation and the brevity of life. But she doesn’t stop there. She asks the reader to be mindful about the gift we’ve been given and how we use it.
I know thinking about our mortality is hard. I’m at an age in which I’ve finally had to accept that there is more time behind me than ahead of me. And I’ve realized that avoiding thinking about that wasn’t doing me any favors. So instead of avoiding thinking about my mortality, I’m asking myself how I want this latter part to go.
Wilma Mankiller was the first female Principal Chief of Cherokee tribe. I never knew her, but I did get to meet her friend and former boss when I lived in Oklahoma. Ross Swimmer, a former head of the National Bureau of Indian Affairs, was Chief before her, and like me, he was an Episcopalian. Our paths crossed many times, and on one of those occasions, I asked him “Did she really used to say ‘Be the buffalo?” He explained that while it may not be literally true, but the legend says that when terrible thunderstorms come rolling across the central plains, cows take off running in the same direction as the storm. Buffalo, however, turn and run head-on into the storm. Running away from the storm actually makes things worse, because it prolongs exposure. Running head-on into it takes courage, but the time spent in the storm is much shorter. Thus, when tossed by the tempests of life, it’s always best to be the buffalo.
Facing our mortality head-on feels daunting. It goes against our biological imperative and against most of modern western culture. But avoiding it isn’t actually going to stop anything. Each of us, no matter our circumstances, and no matter our age, has been given a precious commodity that only increases in value the more it’s given away. How will we share this gift, and what kind of legacy will we leave?
I think we all have people we remember fondly, because of the ways they lived their lives. At the top of my list are the people who were generous in spirit. They shared themselves with others. They chose kindness and graciousness, even when they may have been justified to choose otherwise. None of them were perfect, but they all had lessons to teach, simply by being themselves.
What about us? How will we be remembered? What will we do with this “one wild and precious life?”
Editor’s note: ‘All Shall Be Well’ is a column written by local women clergy including The Rev. Mary Ann Hill, Rector, Trinity on the Hill Episcopal Church (momaryannhill@gmail.com); The Rev. Lynn Finnegan, Associate Rector, The Episcopal Church of the Holy Faith, Santa Fe (rev.lynn@holyfaithchurchsf.org); Deacon Amy Schmuck, Bethlehem Evangelical Lutheran Church (deaconamy@bethluth.com); and ELCA Deacon Cynthia Biddlecomb, M.Div., retired (czoebidd@gmail.com).