Lady, Sing a Song to Your Dying Daughter…

And help the rest of us put things into proper perspective.

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How small we are. And how great.

Too often we live as though we are looking through a constant spyglass — things far away (and mostly irrelevant to our lives) seem huge and urgent, while our ordinary everydays can seem so small and dull. Here, a brave mom writes a song to her dying 18-year old daughter; it lands on Youtube and helps us to turn the spyglass around and discover that the big stuff is not out there.

In truth, what is out there — the headlines, the gossip, the “earth-shattering issues” that seem so imperative to us and that we (particularly we amid the internet throng) obsess over unto near-idolatry — will soon pass us by, like distant ships on the horizon, having never actually mattered to our lives at all. Something else will sail across our vision tomorrow, and once more we’ll think it’s something huge, deserving great dollops of our attention, our worry, our admiration, our passionate enthrallment…until it too slips silently away, having meant, in the end, almost nothing.

The big stuff is right here; it’s the kid standing next to my desk waiting for some attention; it’s the depressed neighbor wanting five minutes of me on the porch; it’s the spouse exhausted from a hard day, who needs to hear a good word before something else takes my attention, and day is gone, and I edge closer to my own ending, for “our life is over like a sigh/Our span is seventy years/or eighty for those who are strong. . .”

We can all do better choosing the content with which we fill our days. I know I can.

Related:
“Sadness is part of the equation”.

About Elizabeth Scalia
  • LordJiggy

    Lovely, and an excellent article.

  • http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/ Manny

    OK, now I’m choked up for the day. Do we know what’s wrong with the daughter? May God bless her and give the family strength.

  • QM Barque

    I practice law from home so I can watch our four children. The baby is our first girl, 5 months old. We prayed the divine office together this morning. After her morning bottle, I put her in her “exersaucer” to “play” and I sat down next to her to watch the video. About midway through, I looked up to find that she stopped playing with all the things on her containment device and was just watching me. All at once, this lovely woman’s heroic motherhood smacked me across the face.


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