Songs Unsung

May we fully live to our last breath.

Jane and John

John Southwood and I built our connection as co-leaders for a mission trip to Penasco, NM, just outside of Taos, way back in 1973. A van and two motorcycles carried our group of six across the California and Nevada deserts to that mountain village, to help with a recreation program. We both loved running and basketball, and dealing with one EGR member forged us in fire (Extra Grace Required). I suspect struggling through the last did more than the first two. He moved to Indiana and then Tennessee, while I had a short sojourn in Taos. But we stayed in touch, and the emergence of Facebook refreshed our closeness. Then a son of his and Jane moved to SoCal, and we often met him and Jane on visits.

I appreciated John’s integrity, his depth, his grace, and his intellect. That led to us going to a writers conference near Santa Cruz, so John could pick up the writing trade, make connections, and learn how to develop his book concept on Job’s integrity. We kicked his ideas back and forth, and some editors were intrigued with his proposal.

But after our return, while still with his son in SoCal, he had a seizure, resulting in a brain cancer diagnosis. He rang the bell after the treatments, but passed about a year later. I struggled with the loss of a friend, and the loss of what could have been a very effective tool at helping people deal with difficulties. This poem emerged from efforts to grapple with that loss.

Perhaps our best life ends

            with songs unsung

            with books unwritten

            with paintings uncompleted

            with new friends unmade

            with languages unlearned

            with journeys unbegun

            with books unread

            with skills undeveloped

            with money unspent

for how empty the life

            with nothing left to finish

but it

Purpose. John’s life had that—to serve God. To write a book that would help people deal with severe adversity, as he had. But cancer took him too soon. I grapple with that. In a world where we blame God for the evil that Satan brings to the world, John had an antidote. To add to the sadness, his wife and daughter could have completed that, but they couldn’t unlock his notes. A needed book unwritten. Lives untouched. Hence, the poem.

May we live as if we had time. May we have projects. May we have purpose beyond merely accumulating days. May we yearn to touch others in their pain and loss, rather than living mainly for our benefit. May we, when we see God for the first time, hear, “You did well child. You worked to serve me until your last breath.”

Kick Starting the Application

Regardless of your position in life, do you live for a purpose that honors your Creator? Do you have a clear purpose that can last till your last breath? If so, does it honor God? What changes might you may right now?