Live. Experience. Learn. Pass it Down.
“Don’t do what I did,” Laura May, my 80-year-old-neighbor said to me when I was 18, getting ready to graduate from high school. She had called my grandmother to send me over to sit with her. She thought she was dying and didn’t want to be alone. She wanted me to sit with her. I was terrified.
In 13 years, I sat on her front porch a few times, overcoming shyness to visit. One 6-year-old morning, peering through backyard hedges, I was caught, spell-bound, watching an argument unfold between Laura May and her widowed sister – about boundaries, inside work (Ms. Schindler) and outside work(Laura May). They were refined little ladies. Laura May in her neat dress, with her stockings rolled down around her ankles mowed with an old-fashioned push mower. I tried it once in later years, totally depleted and exhausted at the effort, not able to match her stamina. That morning, I watched them bicker, totally enthralled. . . until they noticed me in the bloomed-out forsythia. They stopped immediately, calling out a friendly, southern, “Mornin’ Maryleigh.” I muttered a “Good Morning” and ran.
I grew past bee catching and porch-wall climbing as seasons turned, Ms. Schindler died and Laura May was left alone in her parent’s Victorian house with blue and white tiled fireplaces, ornate trim, and black walnut woodwork. In the winter, the bare forsythia allowed her to watch us eat in the kitchen. As a teen, in the summer, the stairwell window allowed her to sit, watching all the coming and going, teen antics with my friends, still picking violets, surprise parties, dates, proms – and me mowing our yard.
Until one day, she was dying and afraid. And she wanted me to sit with her.
In her down-stairs sitting room turned bedroom, she told me her story, a “My-life-is-not-my-own” story that needed passing down. A young man turned away because she was expected to take care of her parents. A life turned away – no children, no husband – because her parents chose a different path for her. Oh, how she regretted that. She did not want me to make that same mistake; she feared I would stay home and take care of my divorced mother and grandmother. She wanted me to live life overflowing.
Live. Experience. Learn. Pass it Down.
Nobody owns me. Nobody owned her. Nobody owns my sons. But God calls us to live life fully in a “My-life-is-not-my-own” way, where we pour out all that is within us into someone else to help them grow and grow strong, to strengthen their wings to one day fly and in flying soar, and in that soaring, see – that their life is not their own.
She missed that chance to teach someone to grow, to fly, to soar. She wanted to ensure that I did not miss it, too. In that moment, her life was not her own – she gave a part of it to me.
“Whoever brings blessing will be enriched,
and one who waters will himself be watered” (Proverbs 11:25)
Allowing others to pour their story into our lives is just as important as pouring our stories into others’ lives. Those stories are God’s stories, God’s messages, God’s encouragement. “Sit Long. Talk Much” is a sign over my porch door. It reminds me to share what God put in me.
Esther’s life was not her own. Peter’s life was not his own. Mary’s life was not her own. Ruth’s life was not her own. Sarah’s life was not her own. Peter’s life was not his own. Neither was Saul’s.
My son, the answer to a 4 year prayer, he graduates in May. Freedom is all he has talked about for at least 4 years – freedom to live his life his way, make his choices, live his dreams, determine what values to re-seed, which to prune or pull out. “It’s my life,” whispered, shouted, cried out in his thirst for freedom, for control.
I remember that feeling, thinking, “It’s my life.” I can do what I want, be what I want, live what I want, wear what I want, eat what I want. Suddenly, one day though, truth makes a lie of those words. My life is no longer my own. It never really was. . . . my life that is. I gave my life to God – and He wants me to give it away to others – to my family, my children – and His children, both little and big He puts in my path. My dreams are just a shadow of God’s plan for my life.
Just yesterday, I was at the KY State Archery Tournament. I was handed 2 bows, a back pack, a cell phone and an iPod. My life was not my own. Yet – what I was able to give, strengthened my son and gave him the opportunity to try his wings.
Another son brought home a puppy that someone was “selling for free.” My life is even less my own. I so wanted to put up a “No Trespassing” sign. My son walks the dog at 6:30 a.m., 7:15 a.m., multiple times after school and before bed. He wants to go on Spring Break to Florida. I gave him a choice – either use the money to go to the beach or use the money to get the puppy her shots and spade. His life, he is learning, is no longer his own.
Or the little boy in the grocery store who asked me, “Do you think I’m going to Hell?” My life is not my own or he wouldn’t have jumped on my cart and then walked with me, wanting to go home with me. ”You can got to heaven if you want to,” I answered.
Live. Experience. Learn. Pass it Down.
God created a “Pass it Down” mechanism within each of us, the need for our life, experience and learning to be given away. It is something as necessary to us as water is to life. Laura May felt that need for her life not to be her own, to pass parts of it down.
God put gifts within us to give, graciously, freely, wantingly. Not hoarding, not guarding, not begrudgingly.
My life is not my own.
How blessed I have been by people who lived that way! I so want to pass it on to my friends, my family and God’s family . . . .and I so want my sons to pass it on – this beautiful, inside-out concept that My life is not My own.
“Give and it will come back to you, pressed down, shaken together, running over” (Luke 6:38)
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Well wow. Just when I think, “She can’t top this one” you do. This was an amazing post. I love love love the story of your neighbor and how true her words are. My gosh, what power in those words. Then you tie God into it and give purpose to our lives we are living. Man, this was good!
p.s. come over and check out the Challenge rules then JOIN us – you know you want to!!!
This is a super post. I can see that little girl in fear of the argument and I can feel the joy of sharing part of your life with a little boy that will turn into a man. Awesome Maryleigh!
No words are good enough for me to say anything in response to this post.
Just… thank you.
To say more would steal the moment from me. I want to let your words sink in.
Love
Lidj
Love this post-such wise words!
I hope you also entered this, your six word story over at She Reads.
A beautiful pass down story!!!
This was beautiful. I am so glad I read it today.
So beautiful, and full of gracious wisdom… thank you for this.
Our lives are not our own. In Christ, we die daily to self. There is much wisdom in your words, ” I gave my life to God – and He wants me to give it away to others.” May we always remember to be a channel of God’s blessing to others. Thank you!
This is just beautiful. I feel as thought I am reading about my mom’s life. She is one of those wonderful woman who cares about everyone; her life is not her own and she is always there.
Oh thank you so much for sharing. How this resonated with me! My life is not my own either, and there are days when I am grateful for the chance to be God’s and days when I am chomping at the bit like your son ready to control his own life. What a wonderful story about your neighbor and such a wise perspective. This blessed me to read. Thank you – Smiles -
What an incredible moment God used in your life. Thanks for sharing. Oh to life a life overflowing and to think! To live it overflowing not for me but for Him. If I could only remember it is not my own indeed, but heaven help me if I don’t need his help to remember.
I love this! That is why when I host events or even just coffee times with friends I often ask one to share their testimony or even where they are in their lives. Too often we share sturggles or just fun but we need to pass down our stories and what God has taught us.
I don’t know what’s ahead in the next five days, let alone the next five minutes, but I used to think I had the next five years planned out.
I need to relearn this: this life is not my own.
Glad you linked up to TheHighCalling and GDWJ communities for our “Word Portrait” project.
That scene with you in the backyard hedges listening to the argument, and them seeing you there, calling out your name? So well told. I was there, with you, hiding…watching…listening.
Good stuff. I’m so glad you joined the Community Writing Project!
Such wisdom, Maryleigh. I’m glad Laura May called you, and I’m glad you went to her. I love this: “Allowing others to pour their story into our lives is just as important as pouring our stories into others’ lives. Those stories are God’s stories, God’s messages, God’s encouragement.” So true. Thank you, Maryleigh, for sharing and teaching and just being who you are, with your big ol’ Jesus heart.
Thank you for sharing at Tell Me a True Story. I enjoyed it start to finish. It is amazing that we do learn that Freedom is not always ours, but we can share love and our experiences with others. What ever our choices in life; more school, a job, joining the military, marriage, or what ever, we give up certain freedoms, inorder to serve others. The only true freedom is in serving Jesus.
Such a lovely post and sentiment. Although there is much negative on the i-net, there is much beautiful and I love how different people use their blogs to “pass it down”. As a young girl, I would sit in the corner of the room, usually the kitchen, and listen to the stories. Grandparent’s, aunts, uncles, neighbors, friends would repeat stories they had heard…stories of our heritage, how GrandDaddy was blown out of his outer wear when the dynamite went off too soon, how Uncle James lost his life in that same explosion. How his wife…for the sake of me, memory has flown!…raised 13 children by taking in other people’s wash and Never, Never, Never was a whiff of unseemliness spoken of her! Visual stories of watching my parent’s read their Bible Every Single Day, another Aunt in church standing and singing, a cappella, her favorite hymn.
Tell your son it could be worse…he could have been adopted by his neighbor’s two dogs and the spaying and vet bills would have been doubled. But that’s another story for another time…-smile-.
Wow! This post was sooooo great! What a sweet lady who cared enough to go out on a limb and tell you her story and not to make the same mistake. My life is not my own! In this day and age, culture in this world tries to tell you differently… those mixed messages can really confuse people, but thankfully we have a wonderful God who when we listen he will guide us correctly.