Epitaph
I haven't really blogged about my faith. To me, faith is intensely personal, a journey you must make on your own, and I can't tell you what's right for you. Nor am I arrogant enough to try. But this... this is not so much about spirituality as it is about footprints.
I'm a Christian. I believe with all my heart that Jesus Christ is my personal lord and savior. However, I don't believe that God is the great puppet master in the sky, pulling strings and making things happen. If that were so, what would free will mean? I really believe God mostly lets us be, to do good or ill, and affect others. He lets us draw lessons from the tragic things that happen, or from the unspeakably beautiful things that human beings do each day.
I bring this up because of the death of Perry DeAngelis. The question I've heard is, "how can God take the good ones so early?" I don't think God took him. I think he simply died. But the thing that has so moved me about Perry's life as well as his passing is that Perry has a lasting legacy. As I searched the internet to learn what he's been up to the past few years, it was amazing, reading his words, almost hearing the cadence of his humor, getting a feel for him. It was almost like a miracle to read the scores and scores of posts from people Perry touched, and how devastated they felt at his loss. In bygone eras, we didn't have that luxury, to measure impact, to share grief in such a way. It might not be very comforting to Perry's family right now as they grapple with the void he's left behind, but perhaps, in years to come, it will bring a smile to their faces.
Perry left a legacy, and it's a legacy worth having. Perry's legacy reminded me that even as I type right now, I am creating my own. This collection of little essays that comprise my blog will, hopefully, be around long after I die, part of the way the internet has revolutionized human knowledge. Maybe my children and grandchildren will laugh at some of my crazy escapades through my 20's, or see the recounting of some event that shaped my thinking later in life. What I write is a window to who I am as a person. These are the footprints through my life that hopefully other people can trace back.
It's easy to think that what we write here in the blogosphere doesn't reverberate. It does. It reflects on us. So I don't think Perry's death happened for a reason, but I think there are lessons to be wrung from his passing. Perry will be with us all, as we write his name, recall the funny things he said, learn from his skepticism, and appreciate all he had to teach us. It's not unique to Perry. We all can do that, and leave something worth remembering. This is part of the reason I don't vent my spleen here -- I don't want any of you, when I'm gone, to remember that I was a vengeful, rage-filled person. If I died tomorrow, I hope you'd remember me as a lady who has had a wacky life, who laughed at her own misfortunes, and who, through it all, believed in the goodness of humanity. Perry wrote his own epitaph. He still speaks for himself. Just remember that as you are also speaking for yourself.
I'm a Christian. I believe with all my heart that Jesus Christ is my personal lord and savior. However, I don't believe that God is the great puppet master in the sky, pulling strings and making things happen. If that were so, what would free will mean? I really believe God mostly lets us be, to do good or ill, and affect others. He lets us draw lessons from the tragic things that happen, or from the unspeakably beautiful things that human beings do each day.
I bring this up because of the death of Perry DeAngelis. The question I've heard is, "how can God take the good ones so early?" I don't think God took him. I think he simply died. But the thing that has so moved me about Perry's life as well as his passing is that Perry has a lasting legacy. As I searched the internet to learn what he's been up to the past few years, it was amazing, reading his words, almost hearing the cadence of his humor, getting a feel for him. It was almost like a miracle to read the scores and scores of posts from people Perry touched, and how devastated they felt at his loss. In bygone eras, we didn't have that luxury, to measure impact, to share grief in such a way. It might not be very comforting to Perry's family right now as they grapple with the void he's left behind, but perhaps, in years to come, it will bring a smile to their faces.
Perry left a legacy, and it's a legacy worth having. Perry's legacy reminded me that even as I type right now, I am creating my own. This collection of little essays that comprise my blog will, hopefully, be around long after I die, part of the way the internet has revolutionized human knowledge. Maybe my children and grandchildren will laugh at some of my crazy escapades through my 20's, or see the recounting of some event that shaped my thinking later in life. What I write is a window to who I am as a person. These are the footprints through my life that hopefully other people can trace back.
It's easy to think that what we write here in the blogosphere doesn't reverberate. It does. It reflects on us. So I don't think Perry's death happened for a reason, but I think there are lessons to be wrung from his passing. Perry will be with us all, as we write his name, recall the funny things he said, learn from his skepticism, and appreciate all he had to teach us. It's not unique to Perry. We all can do that, and leave something worth remembering. This is part of the reason I don't vent my spleen here -- I don't want any of you, when I'm gone, to remember that I was a vengeful, rage-filled person. If I died tomorrow, I hope you'd remember me as a lady who has had a wacky life, who laughed at her own misfortunes, and who, through it all, believed in the goodness of humanity. Perry wrote his own epitaph. He still speaks for himself. Just remember that as you are also speaking for yourself.