The following is a transcript of a Raised Catholic podcast episode.
To listen to the episode, click here.
Today is episode 161: Life Well Lived
Hi friends. This week I’ve been thinking a lot about well, death and funerals and legacy, but honestly, that’s really nothing new for me. I actually don’t mind talking about death at all, to the dismay of some of my family and friends who can be somewhat troubled by that subject, but I find that the topic is quite an equalizer in our shared humanity and also, it really does focus us on the kind of life we want to live, and about how we want to be remembered when we’re gone, in a way that nothing else really does. Also, I’m a music minister who has sung at many funerals, and those experiences have clarified for me what elements I would like for my own. I have a very detailed word document simply titled ‘funeral’ that contains the details of what I’d be looking for, you know, like the readings and the songs for the mass, possible celebrants and locations, and my strong view that my wake ought not happen in a funeral home but a church, or else my family should fully expect me to haunt them, you know, that kind of thing. During my eulogy, my kids almost certainly will tell the absolutely false story about me offering to fly our much-delayed plane home from the Baltimore airport when they were teenagers, but just a heads-up here, friend. That never happened, no matter how much they tell you that it did.
Maybe it’s my dark Irish humor that allows me to be somewhat light on the topic of my own death, but as I grow older, I do find myself truly humbled and honored by the services that I’ve gotten to attend and be part of, wakes and funerals that were just an absolute testimony of a life well lived. Just last month, we waited over an hour in a line that went way down the street to attend our friend, Eddie’s beautiful wake in a city church that required a traffic detail to manage all of the people who wanted to pay their respects. I was honored to sit with my sisters and my Dad at the funeral of his oldest friend, Tommy, as he went to and through the very Gate of Heaven. My own mother’s wake was a testimony to the many chapters of not only her life, but ours too, as I watched so many familiar faces stream in to help hold us up during our time of grief. There is just something about the human family that is so evident at a time like this, when you remember the weight and meaning of one life, and how we really do belong to each other.
A few days ago, our friend Jim went home to heaven. Now, it is not overstating it to say that Jim was a giant in our community. Along with his wife, Terry, Jim started My Brother’s Keeper, a local charity that provides the hope of Jesus Christ in the form of food, furniture, and Christmas gifts to thousands of families in our area. As My Brother’s Keeper has grown exponentially over the years, Jim’s reach has also grown, but the real beauty in Jim’s ministry was how very present he was to whoever was in front of him, whether in his street ministry serving the homeless, on a delivery with My Brother’s Keeper, alongside retreatants and team members at our beloved retreat house, or truly wherever he was. Jim’s last name translates as ‘fruit orchard’ and honestly, that’s kind of what his life was. Deeply planted in the ground of faith, Jim said a radical ‘yes’ to Jesus to serve and care for God’s people, and the fruit of that ‘yes’, as we can so very clearly see today, is a life very well lived.
Of course, none of us knows the day or the hour when we will come to the end of our lives. As we said in episode 47 of this podcast, Memento Mori, remembering that ‘you too will die’ is maybe the most humbling of all the spiritual practices. After all, time is promised to no one, but we do have agency over the ways in which we shape our lives today with an eye toward the legacy that we will one day leave behind. As we move through a line at a wake and notice the pictures of the one who has passed in all of their many chapters – their childhood, their wedding photos, with their children and grandchildren and friends, doing the things that they loved, and the work of their vocation, we can reflect on our own lives, on the puzzle pieces that we are putting in place today that will be remembered then. And as a result of that reflection, we can remove the pieces that need to be discarded, move the ones that need adjustment, and bring more light and prominence to what we know are the most important parts of our lives, the things that we say are our priority.
Jim’s ‘yes’ to care for God’s people in our corner of the world was the clear throughline of many decades of his life. It’s as plain as day, evidenced by thousands of interactions and interventions on his part that have made the lives of God’s people better, including mine. And as I ponder all of this, it makes me wonder, what have I said ‘yes’ to, and is that ‘yes’ apparent in the way that I am living? What is the clear throughline of my life? Will I one day be remembered for having a life well lived?
When my friend, Don, a legendary school principal and quality education advocate, died in 2008, I sent what I guess must have been an email to his wife, Evie, saying that when Don met Jesus, he certainly heard the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And I find as I get older, I really want to hear those words myself one day. I want all the snapshots and puzzle pieces to come together to make a path that is in some way helpful for others to follow. I want it to be clear that my ‘yes’ meant something.
When my friend Julie, a beautiful dance teacher and studio owner, died ten years ago at the age of 39, the celebrant at the funeral said that we could go on from that day and live up to her example because Julie did hard things and we could, too. It’s just the truest thing that we impact each other as a human family, but the weight of our example is something many of us don’t consider until the end, when we remember that we will be remembered, for better or for worse.
Let’s take a quiet moment here to think about the people that we have known who have gone home to Heaven, the ones whose lives we admire the most. Now, beloved as each of these people were, our job is not to emulate them, but to be most authentically ourselves. That’s the kind of life that will bear the most beautiful fruit, the fruit that we were uniquely made for. And, friend, that is not only enough, but it is the goal. As St. Francis de Sales said, “Be who you are and be that well.”
When we were on retreat with our late friend Fr. Joe Callahan and we prayed at the end of the day for God’s intercession in the day to come, Fr. Joe used to pray simply, “You steer and we’ll row.” It was a beautiful and humble submission to the will of God. More and more, our retreat house friends are making their way to and through the heavenly gate, and their lives are testimony to what can happen when you say ‘yes’ to God, when you row while letting God steer. I have no doubt that they are cheering us on as we row, and they are praying for us to be steered well by a God who holds us in His kind hands. As one generation passes, another rises, and that’s as it should be, I guess. Still, it is a bit overwhelming to say goodbye-for-now to so many of these giants who showed us the way. I can hear Jim say to me and to all of those who love him, “Well, looks like you’re up, Sweetheart,” and I do want to live out whatever time I have well. I want to make them proud. I want to fully grow into the person that God made me to be, in love. Like Jim and Tommy and Jack and Lori and Eddie and Fr. Joe and Don and Julie and Jay, I want to be conscious and intentional about living a life well lived, one that will be remembered, one that will have made a difference in the moments and interactions and small choices that will and are adding up over time in our one precious life. And I’m wondering, friend, how about you?
Thanks so much for being with me today, friend. If you need me, you can find me on Instagram @kerrycampbellwrites, at Substack at kerrycampbellwrites.substack.com, or on my website at kerrycampbell.org. Thanks so much for rating, reviewing, subscribing and most importantly, sharing this podcast with a friend. That makes a real difference in growing our community, so thanks. If you would like to support this podcast financially, there are a couple of ways for you to do that in the show notes, along with some resources related to today’s episode, so do check all of that out, but before we go, let’s pray together.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen.
Oh God we thank you for the gift of the example of friends who have gone before, especially our friend Jim, and for your kind Providence in how you weave all of our lives together. Help us to remember that we will one day be remembered, and help us to choose to love your people well with the life we are given, one day at a time.
In the name of Jesus and wrapped in the mantle of our Mother Mary we pray, amen.
Well, thank you so much for being with me today, friends. God bless you and yours, and I’ll see you next time.
Show Notes
This week we remember our friends who have gone before us, the ones whose lives we really admired. When we consider their ‘yes’ that is the throughline of a life well lived, we can be more intentional about what we say ‘yes’ to, and the ways in which we want to live now to be remembered then.
If you’d like to connect with me, find me on Instagram, at my website, or on Substack. If you’d like to help support this podcast financially, there’s a way to do just that on my page at buymeacoffee.com! Thanks for sharing, subscribing, rating, and reviewing, as this helps our community to grow.
Thanks as always to my friend, Peter Vaughan-Vail, for providing the beautiful harp music you hear in this and every episode.
Here are some resources I hope will help you to engage with this week’s topic in a deeper way for yourself:
1. Memento Mori – Raised Catholic ep. 47 – transcript with link to episode
2. My Brother’s Keeper – the organization our friend Jim started along with his wife Terry. Donate or get involved!
3. Song: All I Ask of You, by Gregory Norbet and Monks of Weston Priory
4. Song: Take, Lord, Receive by St. Louis Jesuits