Accomplished

This past Monday, I met my best friend’s brother-in-law in her mother’s hospital room as she was actively dying. He came to say his goodbyes and deliver a message on behalf of his wife. Why she didn’t come to see her mother is beyond me. I digress.

Once he said goodbye, he sat down in a chair near the door and spoke to my friend for a bit. Then she and I switched chairs so she could resume her rightful spot at her mother’s left hand.

I didn’t know much about him. He was a recently-retired-Electrical Engineer. He had two kids, two grandkids, and another on the way. He built his new house a couple years ago, and now they lived an hour away from my best friend and her parents. He’s had a successful life by the world’s standards.

He was nervously chatting. He was also trying to lighten the mood in the room. That doesn’t make sense to me, but he tried his best at distraction. I digress.

When I sat down, he told me the polite “it’s nice to finally meet you” comment you say to people you have heard of a while ago but hadn’t met. Anyway–in the midst of talking about everything under the sun, he learned some things about me. My best friend told him of my writing, and we discussed the other things I have been doing since adulthood began many years ago: my education, screenwriting and the successes I’ve had with it so far, and doing standup comedy the last sixteen years. It wasn’t the typical, run-of-the-mill “American dream” that people are convinced they want when they allow the world to speak for them. It was my life. Nothing like his. And maybe even nothing like I thought at one point. I never gave it much thought for the most part. I was mostly trying to survive. And I kept myself busy while doing so.

And then he said something I was not at all expecting. He said to me “you must be proud to be so accomplished.” I turned to look at him. I’m not sure what my face said, but in my head, I didn’t agree. I could not relate to that idea. He reiterated. “You should feel accomplished.” I paused–trying to gather my thoughts and articulate them in a way that might give him a window into my mind. I shrugged my shoulders.

I hadn’t gotten to where I wanted to go. None of the things I was doing had amounted to anything in my mind. They haven’t gotten me anywhere or changed my life in any significant way. They hadn’t given me the freedom I’ve been longing for. These thoughts swirled. I said very little.

I turned to him again, nodding my head. “I’ve been busy. I’ve done a lot of things. Most of my friends have gotten married and had families and even have grandkids at this point. I never wanted any of that. I just do things. This is just how I have kept busy the last thirty years.” I felt defensive in a way–and not because I needed to be. I was just trying to convey that being or feeling accomplished looks different for everyone. And I didn’t see it for myself. I looked over at my best friend. My thoughts were of her, as I watched her hold her mother’s hand for what could be the last time.

The truth is–my best friend was the most accomplished person in the room. And not because she had degrees or a high-paying job or even a family of her own. She doesn’t have any of these things. She knew how to love. And she loved to the fullest. She lived to care for her parents. They were her world. She worked a full-time job while caring for her parents who were knocking on 90. One with dementia and the other with Alzheimer’s, she put their needs ahead of hers for years. I greatly admired her for this. She taught me what love was. She taught me what it does. And she taught me how to do it properly. And as I stood by, sometimes helping, it slowly softened my heart. It opened my eyes wider than they already were. It affected me in a way I can’t ever articulate. It made me want to be more like her.

“And these three remain: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13.

The greatest two commandments revolve around love. Love is an action. It’s service. It’s the very things Mother Theresa devoted her existence to. And now she’s in Heaven with God. And my best friend’s mother is with her. And one day, she will be with them, too. And I can only hope that when I get to the end of my life, I can say I was accomplished, too, because I loved.

May the Good Lord open our eyes, shows us what it truly means to be accomplished, and put the desire in our hearts to chase it. May God help us all to learn how to love. Amen.