Gathering
There is an old Christian hymn written by Robert Lowry in 1864 and which is included in many Christian hymnals. The song, “Shall we gather at the river?” goes on to suggest: “Where bright angel feet have trod, with the crystal tide forever flowing by the throne of God?”
It is not surprising that humans have often posited the idea of angels and eternal life; of eternally gathering with loved ones. Social scientists tell us that humans have always been social animals and do better when they gather to work and play together. Especially as we age we have to face the fact that our time of gathering is very limited. Today I am gathering with my brother. his wife, two of our sisters and my brother’s step daughter. One person who would normally be gathering with us is my brother-in-law, Carl, who died nearly a year ago. Of course, there are many other living and deceased family members who are gathering with us. We bring our history with us to the gathering just as we bring all our ancestors from the beginning of time which we are now told was in Africa.
My one sister informs me that she was recently at the cemetery where the remains of many family members are buried including her husband, our parents and paternal grandparents. She and another sister have graciously assumed the responsibility for checking on the cemetery and often being the ones to mow, week eat and clean off grave stones. Prior to that I was Grandma Fannie Pickett would command a gathering at the cemetery on Memorial day.
My siblings and I are at that stage of life where it may often seem as if the main gathering place is now the funeral home. In fact, that has been true for some of us for some time. I was a relatively young man when I was invited to gather with others facing the grim reaper of AIDS which ended the life journey of many. Each time we gathered there was fewer living people in that crowd. AIDS brought not only grief but the constant reminder of many of those same religious leaders who sang, “Shall we gather at the river?” that AIDS was the judgment of God for those who loved someone of the same sex. For many years it was assumed that it was a gay disease even though statistics and science told us differently.
Now I am nearly twice the age when I first faced at least weekly gatherings at funeral home. In recent years, in addition to the “normal” deaths of peers we often gather because of the death of sons, daughters, spouses, lovers, and siblings. The opioid addiction continues to be very non-discriminate in its selection of victims. At this stage of life there are also the “normal” deaths of aging although “normal” does not describe the feeling that no matter what the calendar says death has arrived much too quickly. We may at times be thankful that death has released a loved one from chronic pain, but even then we are not ready to gather, once again at the funeral home. We remember fonder gatherings in kitchens laughing, teasing, cooking and co-parenting whatever children were present.
The gifts of aging are many, but the primary gift may be that it is time to let go of petty worries, resentments, concerns about money (assuming the luxury of having enough to eat and house oneself), things and what others might think or say. We are also of the age where we have heard the dire predictions of the end of life as we know it by various politicians. Some of us add concerns which Native Americans have reminded us for years; our need to remember the sacred relationships with mother earth and all the animals, trees and the soil in which our ancestors live and “breathe”.
Gather at the river could be a metaphor for the sacredness of all the connections we have with the sun, moon, rocks, water, insects, animals, other other humans. No matter where we are or what we are doing or where we are gathering “the bright angels have trod”.
Written June 28, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
Coachpickett.org
There is an old Christian hymn written by Robert Lowry in 1864 and which is included in many Christian hymnals. The song, “Shall we gather at the river?” goes on to suggest: “Where bright angel feet have trod, with the crystal tide forever flowing by the throne of God?”
It is not surprising that humans have often posited the idea of angels and eternal life; of eternally gathering with loved ones. Social scientists tell us that humans have always been social animals and do better when they gather to work and play together. Especially as we age we have to face the fact that our time of gathering is very limited. Today I am gathering with my brother. his wife, two of our sisters and my brother’s step daughter. One person who would normally be gathering with us is my brother-in-law, Carl, who died nearly a year ago. Of course, there are many other living and deceased family members who are gathering with us. We bring our history with us to the gathering just as we bring all our ancestors from the beginning of time which we are now told was in Africa.
My one sister informs me that she was recently at the cemetery where the remains of many family members are buried including her husband, our parents and paternal grandparents. She and another sister have graciously assumed the responsibility for checking on the cemetery and often being the ones to mow, week eat and clean off grave stones. Prior to that I was Grandma Fannie Pickett would command a gathering at the cemetery on Memorial day.
My siblings and I are at that stage of life where it may often seem as if the main gathering place is now the funeral home. In fact, that has been true for some of us for some time. I was a relatively young man when I was invited to gather with others facing the grim reaper of AIDS which ended the life journey of many. Each time we gathered there was fewer living people in that crowd. AIDS brought not only grief but the constant reminder of many of those same religious leaders who sang, “Shall we gather at the river?” that AIDS was the judgment of God for those who loved someone of the same sex. For many years it was assumed that it was a gay disease even though statistics and science told us differently.
Now I am nearly twice the age when I first faced at least weekly gatherings at funeral home. In recent years, in addition to the “normal” deaths of peers we often gather because of the death of sons, daughters, spouses, lovers, and siblings. The opioid addiction continues to be very non-discriminate in its selection of victims. At this stage of life there are also the “normal” deaths of aging although “normal” does not describe the feeling that no matter what the calendar says death has arrived much too quickly. We may at times be thankful that death has released a loved one from chronic pain, but even then we are not ready to gather, once again at the funeral home. We remember fonder gatherings in kitchens laughing, teasing, cooking and co-parenting whatever children were present.
The gifts of aging are many, but the primary gift may be that it is time to let go of petty worries, resentments, concerns about money (assuming the luxury of having enough to eat and house oneself), things and what others might think or say. We are also of the age where we have heard the dire predictions of the end of life as we know it by various politicians. Some of us add concerns which Native Americans have reminded us for years; our need to remember the sacred relationships with mother earth and all the animals, trees and the soil in which our ancestors live and “breathe”.
Gather at the river could be a metaphor for the sacredness of all the connections we have with the sun, moon, rocks, water, insects, animals, other other humans. No matter where we are or what we are doing or where we are gathering “the bright angels have trod”.
Written June 28, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
Coachpickett.org
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