After my mother died in 1976, Arnold lived alone for 15 years in the old house on the 100 acre farm in rural Minnesota where he worked the land and lived for almost 60 years. That was the house where I was born in 1938, and also where my grandmother, Ellen, came into the world in 1880.
My dad was a shy farmer of Norwegian decent and Lutheran faith and cultural heritage. He never wanted to move into town where, as he said, "people would be breathing down your neck", even though our town had a population of only about 1,500 people. Too crowded, he thought. Nevertheless, he searched out conversation and company in the coffee shop in town or across the fence lines and every day visited with his brother, Leonard, down on the "home place", just a mile away.
But, no doubt, those were years of many lonely days and nights for dad. All four of his kids had moved away - and Judy and I were the farthest away - some of that time living in Latin America or 800 miles away in Arkansas. He never complained, but on occasion we talked about what it was like to be lonely. So it was that in 1991 we decided to move back to Minnesota from Ecuador in order to live with dad on the farm and accompany him during the last years of his life.
Those "last years" turned out to be only six months. Unknown to him and us by the time we joined him on the farm he already had a cancer growing in his lungs. It was an honor to accompany him on his final journey, and though he knew he was dying, we never talked about that directly - that would be sort of counter-cultural for us, I suppose. But there were other ways to express and show support and comfort.
I often spent time during those days strumming my guitar and singing some songs of faith, some old and a few new ones I was just learning. One day he came to me and asked me to "sing that song you sang in church back then, when you were a teenager". He knew only one line, and I recognized it but told him I couldn't sing it because I didn't remember the words nor did I have the music. I felt a bit guilty about that. But I remember it was a song based on one of the Psalms - I think Psalm 27.
I was learning another song at that time, one also based on the words of Psalm 27, and later I sang that for him - at least he was in bed in the next room, and I hoped he was listening and it would give him some comfort.
The song, by Tim Manion, is one of my favorites and I have sung it several times at worship services in different churches - always remembering that early time when these words meant something to dad in his final days - and to me. Once, after singing this song at a Lutheran church worship service, a woman who was in the congregation wrote me a letter saying she had heard it and wanted the song sung at her funeral. Would I send it to her, please. I did, and I was glad to hear that these words had such meaning for her, maybe she was in the final days of her life, also.
This Alone
One thing I ask; This alone I seek,
To Dwell in the house of the Lord all my days.
For one day within your temple, Heals every day alone
O Lord, bring me to your dwelling.
Verses:
Hear Oh Lord, the sound of my calling
Hear, Oh Lord, and show me your way,
The Lord is my light and hope of salvation
The Lord is my refuge, Whom should I fear?
Wait on the Lord, and hope in His mercy
Wait on the Lord, and live in His love.
Here is a link to a beautiful rendition of the song... If you click on this it should show a website or on the icon at the top of the page.
This Alone:- By St Louise Jesuits & Tim Manion
