Words to Face the Day
I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasy, No sudden rending of the veil of clay.
No angel visitant, no opening skies, But take the dimness of my soul away! -George Croly 1854
This section of a famous hymn came to me from a series of notes from my grandfather, the Reverend Jay Han Won during a very dark time in January of 2006.** One thought provoking, inspiring or sometimes silly piece of writing was meant to be read each day for a two week stretch. That was for Tuesday, what I believe to have been day 6. For some reason I have yet to decipher- under the author’s name and year he wrote in brackets “Join the crowd!” I would probably have to go back to all the other notes and the accompanying letter to find some clue for this nota bene and even then I might strike out.
My grandfather was a very wise, funny and curious man with a rich and far-reaching history that I won’t go into. He was also a clergyman so a lot of his writings to me were inclusive of references to god or contained biblical passages. They were not always met with open arms and sometimes they were met with flat out bitterness. However I decided some years ago that there are many, many worse things in the world than having someone love you so much on Earth that they hope to hang out with you when you are dead. I could have done with less force but he (and therefore I) came from a long line of missionaries so what can you expect?
After my period of shall we say “great distress,” I packed his letters and notes from this time with a bunch of stuff that I figured was better sent to the pits of the basement or at least a deep cardboard box. Shortly after he died almost two years ago I went looking for his writings in hopes of finding a little piece of him to hold. I searched through the various quotes, poems, scriptures and limericks that he had sent and the one above was the one that caught my throat. It had held such meaning for me at the time and could be applied to so many other difficult periods in my life. I tucked it carefully, being sure not to bend or crease the paper (in spite of my grandfather’s penchant for folding anything pliable into miniscule sizes) and tucked it into my date book.
It got passed into the next date book without much thought at the end of the next year because I was feeling differently. The dimness was not so dim. My ache for my grandfather was the same so still I kept the page close. Eventually the road-weary paper with the lighthouse in the corner and the ubiquitous free-gift-for-donation declaration “From the desk of the Reverend Jay Han Won” made its way to a small journal given to me by a friend meant to spur on my writing.
These last few weeks, after many weeks of feeling vastly improved, I have been sinking and starting to question my successes. Questioning my wellness is my late night game, saved for after the kids have gone to bed and my husband has fallen asleep so that I know he cannot answer my concerns. I don’t want confirmation.
The Croly selection has a home again. I am not looking for an “angel visitant,” I want rest for my mind and warmth for my heart. I want the “dimness of my soul” to be taken from me if even for a moment. (I need a moment to make a plan of action and reassure everyone who is reading this and deciding I am in deepest despair and hopelessness that I am merely dim in the soul- an odd sort of optimism but let us go with it) Like the verse from the hymn- I am only looking at the part not the whole hymn- I am not looking for a grand moment of mind-bending clarity and healing. I don’t require a massive sign from god or a fissure in the Earth that swallows my enemies. Don’t bother “rending” any clay on my behalf. I want better than now, better than this, better than sadness and questioning of wellness. I want, I want, I want is no great thing to say but it is true that I want things like anybody else. I try to face melancholy with small requests but most of all I want so desperately to feel confident in my movement, my brain and my heart. And I think I would like a hefty dose of giggling and a trip to the salon to get my makes-me-happy-fun-hair-color restored. A gal has to be honest, right?
My grandfather once told me that I should not waste my time praising him and extolling his virtues as a wise man. In that directive he was proving his wisdom and foolishness simultaneously. Too much praise is a waste and a wise person will likely know their strength regardless. But he was foolish to tell his granddaughter that she should not extol his virtues when she so obviously was seeking them in herself.
In addition to his many years as a minister, he was a navy chaplain in World War II so I suppose this is a fitting time to be writing in reference to him. He counseled and consoled the hearts of so many and he did so in a way that went beyond religion. We had our religious disagreements but in my time of need he saw an opening and found a way to fill a hole. He knew that there would be many a dark day and that each one would need to be faced with new courage and new heart. And so he carefully prepared me that selection of pages, carefully labeled, carefully selected and carefully balanced with the serious, soulful and silly. It needed no explanation or instruction. I never read ahead.
On that 6th day, that Tuesday in 2006 I read George Croly’s words as bestowed upon me by my grandfather. That day and many days since then it has truly felt that a long gone, Irish writer and preacher that I know little to nothing about- George Croly and the great and Reverend Jay Han Won were in cahoots. Working together to form the right words to soften the glare of morning sun, ease the pain of tentative steps, temper the words that overflow and pull from within the ones that don’t, and to bring a delicate, distant light to the dark of night, the dark of day and the ‘dimness of my soul.”
To George Croly- 1780-1860.
More so to my wise and witty grandfather- I know your name– 1919- 2008.
I am counting on you both to make sure those words stays with me long after the handwriting I can recognize a mile away fades, the paper falls prey to age and I hope- long after the light pours in to push away the dimness for good.
** I am using the Korean name he sometimes used as he was born in Seoul, lived there for 18 years and much family history is attached to the name and 125 year family presence in Korea. He is however American and his English name is much less intriguing. However, my modicum of anonymity and privacy of relatives prevails.
Posted by Miriam on November 11th, 2009
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