Trying to remember a friend’s simple advice: ‘Live your life!’

Years ago, not long after a doctor had said Evelyn had mild cognitive impairment (but before the Alzheimer’s diagnosis), we gathered with former college friends for a weekend reunion. Soon I felt compelled to say something about what I knew they’d all seen: Evelyn was different. So at breakfast one morning, while she was still asleep in our room, I told them the news.

To this day, I remember how one of my friends responded. Jon Weatherly turned to me from the sink where he was washing his coffee cup, and said, “And so, you live your life!” 

I was a bit taken aback, frankly, but his comment blasted away any possibility of indulging self-pity in that moment. He meant what he said as encouragement, and it remains one of the most straightforward, no-nonsense pieces of advice I’ve received in the years since then.

I mentioned the conversation to him this weekend, and his response was, “Did I say that?” Oh yes, he did. I’ve never forgotten the conversation.

Worrying about tomorrow

One reason I brought this up with him is because life has taken a dark turn for his family. His young daughter-in-law Laurie, the mother of his two little grandchildren, is undergoing treatment to tame metastatic cancer. The evil has landed, for now, in her spine, and a few months ago she had surgery to remove the fast-growing tumor, just days before its growth would have rendered her an invalid. She’s enduring the ravages of cancer treatment with determination to buy as much time as possible with her family.

iStock photo

Jon remembers his anxiety at the time of that surgery. He fretted with what-ifs throughout several sleepless nights. What if we’re forced to move to their town to help with their family? What will that do to our finances? What about the new job I’ve just taken?

But then he decided, “My being prepared for all the contingencies is maybe the least important factor in how I’m empowered by God to respond to the situation that actually exists.”

He said that to me about two minutes into our conversation. You can’t talk with this guy long before he brings God into the picture, and soon he referred to the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 6. (“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”)

Living his life

And even though Jon cannot remember the spontaneous advice he gave me several years ago, he is actually following it himself today. “Live your life!”

He and his wife Tammie are planning a quiet, relaxing Christmas together with their son and his sick wife and their two children. Their couch was full of gifts she was wrapping when I called Saturday. Jon commented that he’d have plenty of time time to pick up his son and family at the airport on the 24th and return to speak at his church’s Christmas Eve service.

Facebook shows him playing his clarinet in a community orchestra, and he regularly comments on the performance of the Cincinnati Bengals (doing pretty well this year) and the Cincinnati Reds (Talk about hope for a better tomorrow!).

Reflecting on the suffering his family is enduring, he concluded, “What we’re going through amplifies the profound joy there is to be had in everyday life all the time: Simply being with the people you love. Savoring a meal. Enjoying a day. The everlasting goodness of what we experience right now.” And all of this can happen “even as we process what our faith teaches us,” Jon said. “Death is not the end.”

Remembering the advice

And so I’ve decided to keep remembering his advice, and work to live by it.

But I’ll admit it can be work.

Saturday night we attended a wonderful Christmas musical program at a church nearby. Evelyn seemed to enjoy it. She sang along with the carols. She was engaged by the multimedia and the ballet dancers in the aisles. I had been worried about whether she’d sit through it, but we shared more than a few good moments as we enjoyed the program.

Afterward we went out to dinner with friends. As we were finishing the meal, Evelyn got up from the table and headed toward an empty booth across the aisle. After I insisted more than once that she must not sit there and encouraged her to rejoin us, finally she growled at me angrily before plopping down in her chair. She maintained a sullen expression till halfway home. By then it seemed certain she had forgotten the incident. But I suspect I’ll encounter a similar scene sometime soon.

I’ll work not to worry about that, though. Even if “enjoying a day” may be more than I should ask for, I’ll settle for savoring pleasant moments.

Photo by Joshua Humpfer on Unsplash

And when a day has difficulties, I’ll “live my life,” because today is all I can handle.

Jon’s example helps me. And with him I’ll try to remember that “tomorrow will worry about itself.”