Life And Death At Christmas

SAT., DEC. 26, 1992, 5:00 AM
FARM, STUDY

Christmas Day commenced in a very alive fashion for you. It was cold and snowy outside, but inside your son’s farmhouse it was warm, and a time to open presents and appreciate the productive, commercial culture of which you are a part. The gift-giving was generally excessive, by My standards… a comment I usually make in this season of the year. Yet the early part of the day was characterized by life. There was no death as your family celebrated this birth of Mine, as Jesus.

Then you opened that first present that you had placed under the tree, a slim volume from your sister and brother-in-law. It was entitled Mango Days and was about the experiences of a Punahou student with a fatal cancer. It was not likely that you would devote the rest of Christmas Day to the absorption of her story (as it would not be likely that you would be up this early hearing My comments on it). You soon perceived the further connection – this was Kit Smith’s daughter, a member of your class of 1952 with whom you have kept contact. But why hadn’t you known about this? An important communication over 11 years late.

The story is a fascinating one, with the whole range of feelings and reactions, from denial to acceptance. In some ways Patty was just an ordinary, bright American girl in that privileged class. Yet it was also quickly clear that she also was extra-ordinary, in her capacity to write what she was feeling, leaving a marvelous record of the juxtaposition of life and death in the human, earth scene.

Patty struggled to live life as fully as she could, but pain and deterioration are tough opponents. She had a comfortable relationship with Me, and, of course, she was welcomed over here, as one who had lived her rather short life in a very full way.

You could not have such an experience, for if you were to develop a similar cancer, with a similar prognosis, it would not be the same. You have had the privilege of a moderately long life, with all of the satisfactions that you should expect… and then some. Her life as a writer… and surely as a professional… was just beginning. Yours has gone on for years, and even as it continues, it is definitely on the down slope. You could not feel cheated out of the experiences of life, as she did. And yet she lived that last year with a dedication to fullness. She just couldn’t have all of the experience you have had, even in concentrated form.

Two Punahou teachers were particularly helpful to her, as were several at Stanford. Hence the story somehow mystically connects with yours. You were a Punahou teacher, and if you had stayed in that position you would have been her class dean. You were a lowly assistant professor at Stanford, with opportunities to be helpful to students like Patty, even as you have no recollection of providing such help.

Then, as you were nearing the end of the story, the phone rang, and it was Kim Smith (an interesting coincidence in names), telling you of the death of her husband, Scott, from cancer, and thanking you for your help and the help of your class in dealing with her particular portion of life and death. Smith is a common American name, but this was an unusual coming together of two who died, and two, Kit and Kim, who continue life, with this death experience a powerful force.