Weekly Message from T. J.

High Hopes

“Whoops there goes another rubber tree plant.” What?

The request that came was not one I was all that used to. Working in New York in publishing at the time, and playing some piano at night in clubs, I’d learned a lot of songs. But “High Hopes” was one I’d never played. The song made famous by Frank Sinatra was one whose refrain I knew: “He’s got high hopes. He’s got high hopes…”. It’s a lovely refrain. But I’d never listened much to the other parts of the song about an ant trying to overcome a rubber tree plant. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but I do as I am told.

My great aunt Edyth was celebrating, and this was one of the songs she wanted at the celebration. It was her diamond jubilee, which is a time when women religious, or “nuns” as many refer to them, recall fifty years of service to their order or their vocation. Sr. Edyth was going to throw a big party and I was going to be part of the entertainment, playing “High Hopes” and “You’ve Got a Friend,” one I knew pretty well. I did my best. It went fine. And Sr. Edyth was always grateful.

Well, that was about twenty years ago. Sr. Edyth went right on being a nun for a few more decades. She helped the local school get out their yearbook in Brooklyn every year. She served as principal of one of the foremost Catholic girls schools on Long Island. She was a force of nature, truly. Until it was time to retire and, “look after the old nuns.” She was somewhere around 90 herself, so we all thought this was pretty funny, her looking after the nuns older than she was.

Just this year she had a bout with cancer. All of her reports were about how kind and wonderful the staff at the hospital were. When we asked how things went, she’d marvel at the care the nurses and doctors gave her and the amazing technology they were using to treat her. It sounded like all was going well. And it was. And then on Monday morning, she had a fall and died.

Over the last few years we would speak often. I was the only other family member close to her that was a religious professional. There are some things only other people devoted to a vocation of faith understand about one another. And having someone as loving, wise, and funny as Sr. Edyth in my family, with whom I could share in a way that was just different than how I share with others was a gift beyond measure.

But friends, love does not end. I hope you know that. It doesn’t. My prayers and tears over the last few days prove that. In the gentle and direct way she had in life, I feel myself speaking with her much the same now. Yes, love goes on. And I know the high hopes she always had for me are realized in the way she taught me to love others. And I can almost hear her reminding me, “You’ve got a friend.” And in this I will always be blessed.

I miss you, Aunt Edyth. I hope I will always do my best to make you proud.

May it ever be so.
Rev. T. J.
minister@unitariansofhi.org