I’ve spent the last couple of days in Hot Springs. I doubt that many people imagine that the portal to heaven looks like this tiny town in the mountains of Western North Carolina, but I do. It’s nestled on the French Broad River which is my personal Jordan. Wading in it, walking beside it, and listening to it remind of me of who I am and wash away who I’m not.
For almost eighteen years, I’ve come here in search of the Silence which eventually speaks, wordlessly but eloquently, to my needs, and to be swept up in the gladness which flows in me as water, wind, and Spirit carry clamor downstream.
Yesterday, I hiked, one more time, the Lovers’ Leap Trail; it’s not a long hike, but there are places where the path is steep.
I’ve been on this trail in snowfall, thunderstorms, gentle rain, refreshing breezes, and hot sunshine. I’ve looked from the Leap across the river valley in every season; and I’ve hiked it in every emotional climate, carrying sometimes volatile and sometimes peaceful weather in my heart.
Four years ago this week, I was an autologous bone marrow transplant patient at Duke. I was beginning to feel the effects of a massive infusion of chemotherapy to treat Multiple Myeloma. Before the next week was out, I’d been to the verge of death, rather than to the edge of a modest cliff. I had descended rather than climbed. I wondered if I’d ever see these beloved mountains again, much less lace-up my hiking boots and hit the trail. I’m so grateful.
I am, and I’m not, who I was when I first came to Hot Springs all those years ago.
I moved to Western North Carolina was I was 44; I’m now 61.
I was a pastor; I’m now a professor.
I had good health; now, I have a life-limiting and life-threatening illness.
When my 44 year old self—even my 54-year old self—imagined his 61 year old self, I’m not, for the most part, what he saw.
I am, and I’m not, who I was when I lay, weak and weary, in a sickbed in Durham four years ago.
I am alive. I almost wasn’t.
I have come to terms with death, at least as much as one can come to terms with it before “actively dying” (a puzzling phrase). It’s unlived life, more than the end of life, that unsettles me. I’m less anxious about ceasing to exist than I am about failing to live fully, gratefully, and joyfully.
Here’s what I know more surely now than ever; you already know them all, so just let me remind you:
Now is the time.
Love is why.
Joy is the end.
Praise is the song.
It was early and the air was cool when I began yesterday’s hike. By hike’s end, it was hot in the sunshine. But, when I took my first steps upward, just as the sun was rising, I imagined I felt fresh hints of an approaching fall.
Seasons overlap before they finally change. So, too, with the weather of the heart.
This is among your most beautiful posts, Guy. So rich, meaningful, the voice so honest, reaching yet sober. The four-line mantra near the end is, well, now my mantra. Love you, brother.
Thank you, Terry. Your encouragement means so much to me. Love you, too.
“It’s unlived life, more than the end of life, that unsettles me.” Yes, indeed! Thank you Guy!
Thanks so much, Randy!
Thank you for the beautiful post. I needed this. I just lost my oldest son(45 yrs). Life is short, live it to the fullest in God’s will.
Linda Barnes
Linda, I had not heard about your son’s death, and I’m so sorry. I pray you’re finding the support you need. Grace and peace, Guy
Thank you, Dr. Sayles!
Thanks, James.
I had not read your thoughts and words for a long time, Guy. Glad I did today! Thank you for the four-line mantra. It is a reminder that life is worth living. Moving forward takes strength and bravery. Life is worth the struggle!
Good to hear from you, Betty. We get to keep reminding one another that life is, sometimes in spite of it all, worth living.
What depth of poetic words Guy. Thank you for sharing your journey.
Thanks so much, Larry.
Thank you, Guy. A beautiful post I needed to hear on this Friday. Your words continue to shape and inspire. So glad that in this season of our life, son Daniel will soon be with you at Mars Hill. Blessings.
Thanks so much, Scott. We’re looking forward to Daniel’s at MHU with us. All the best to you, Guy
Your sincere words send such a message of hope, peace, and strength from God in the midst of change and suffering.
My family and I are so blessed to know you. You are a dear friend.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful, honest message. It really makes me stop and think. It speaks to my heart.
Thank you, Pam. As always, I’m so grateful for your affirmation and encouragement. Grace and peace, Guy
Sue read this to me on our way to hike at Craggy. Your journey began 3 years before mine. Thanks for sharing some of my early steps with me. Your words reflect so much of who and where I am on the journey. Recent Duke visit gave very good report.
Dave, It’s good to hear from you and I’m delighted that you got a good report at Duke. All the best as your journey continues. Grace and peace, Guy
You make my heart cry and my soul sing. Thank you for penning such beautiful and lofty and deep and always such truthfilled words about our human experience.
Thank you so much, Phyllis. I’m grateful to know that my words “speak” to you.
Thank you for these words. Today we celebrated our daughter’s 37th birthday. This time last year, she was in the middle of treatment for AML. We did not know if she would be here to celebrate with us for another year. We try to remember that life is a gift, and we need to treat each day as such. Blessings to you and prayers for your continued good health.
Debbie, I’m so glad for the celebration of that once-uncertain birthday! Life is, indeed, such a gift and, in the day to day rush of things, we can sometimes forget. Blessings to all of you, too.
Thanks for your words of comfort. Your writings are always comforting. I hope you have a wonderful school year. I entered that Kindergarten classroom every year until I was 75. The beginning of a new school year brings many wonderful memories. God Bless.
Loveta
Thank you, Loveta. I know that the many students you taught through the years are grateful that you kept going back to the classroom each fall! Grace and peace, Guy
I’m grateful for these words that resonate with me and where I am on life’s journey. You write eloquently and succinctly. For your gift, I’m thankful.
Don, thank you, and I’m glad to know that what I’ve written speaks to you. Prayers for your ongoing journey.
Thank you for sharing these beautiful words. Hot Springs is indeed a special place.
Guy,
Head to Duke Sunday (Aug 12) for the stem cell transplant. Your words certainly spoke to me on the eve of this fearful journey. Thank you !
Ed, I’ll be holding you in my heart and prayers as you navigate the transplant process.
Guy I miss seeing you! Your words speak to my heart and give me peace. I have my own health issues (two strokes) since last September. I am doing the ok now. I am glad you are at MHU. I am on campus often and hope to see you soon. You certainly made a difference in my life. Take care and God bless you my friend!!!
Thank you so much, Bruce. I miss seeing you, too, and I’m sorry for your health challenges. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I look forward to our paths’ crossing at MHU! All the best to you.