What is the measure of a life well-lived?

I have lost several loved ones over the last several months, and had the privilege of officiating the funerals for my aunt and uncle, so the concepts of death and life have been weighing heavily on my mind.  All were men and women of great integrity, humility, and character, who exhibited the work ethic made famous by that “Greatest Generation”.  They all loved their families and were active in their churches.  In working to create an overarching narrative that encapsulates each person’s life, I began to wrestle with these questions:

How do you measure a life?  What is the measure of a life well-lived?

In grappling with these questions, in light of the men and women who served as heroes and role models for me, I came to this conclusion:

The measure of a man is not marked by the wealth he acquires, the possessions he accumulates, or the positions he attains.  Indeed, these are very faulty measures, measures that, in the end, leave only brokenness, ruin and regret.

No, I am convinced that the only measure by which a man or woman may be found true, the only measure that marks a life well-lived, is by how much one gives of himself, by how much he lays his life down for others.

The measure of a man is not in how many degrees one has, how rich his portfolio, how full his social calendar, how great his golf score, how impressive his business card, how extensive his library or how full his closet.

Quite simply, the measure of a man is marked by how much he loves. 

And let me, by way of the Greeks, explain what I mean and do not mean, by love.  The Greeks broke the idea of love out into four distinct words:

Storge: the love of things (baseball, Mexican food, TV shows, e.g.)

Phileo: brotherly love (love for friends, companions, etc.)

Eros: romantic or passionate love

 Agape: the love that literally shatters itself on behalf of the other, it is the love that bears all things, endures all things; suffers all things; the love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.

If a man speaks multiple languages, has earned degrees from the finest institutions, has made a tidy sum playing the market, has built a comfortable life behind gated walls, donates to the finest non-profits, preaches sermons before thousands, writes best sellers, oversees million dollar budgets, and raises his children to do the same, but does not have agape, he is but a resounding bore and an empty shell.

The measure of a man, then, comes down quite simply to how much and how well he loves.  These are the lives that are straight and sound and true.  These are the men and women who leave behind families of blessing, whose children rise up and call them blessed.  These are the men whose quiver is full of children who pass on this legacy of love to their children for countless generations.

These are the men and women I was honored to know and humbled to honor.  These men and women (and many others like them in my life) were those whose lives measured true and straight by that great yardstick: the depth of their love.

My aunt and uncle had no children but treated all their nieces and nephews like we were their children and were like second mamas and daddies to us all.  Some of went on vacations with them, had sleep overs at their house and cared for them as they aged and had health issues.  It was that love, the give and take which sometimes was not easy for proud people to receive who made all of us better people.

My brother in law Doug, gave of himself so much that his health was sometimes put on the back burner while making sure everyone around him was taken care of.  That selflessness that gives so much expecting nothing in return, these are the values of a southern heritage. 

Where do we go from here?  We pick ourselves up, take a deep breath to put the wind back in our sails and we move on.  The hurt and pain remain but the motions needed to get through the days and nights are just that, motions, sometimes repetitive until the life once had is stored in a safe place and the new and different life is created from the ashes of despair.  You feel the love in your heart for those gone on ahead but the work of making a different life is upon those left behind.

I miss my friend and Brother Doug, no more golf games or having a drink together.  I miss my aunt Doris who gave me a great appreciation for waffles and what great memory recall can do for you both in work and play.  I miss my uncle Boe, whose interest in where I was traveling or what I was doing made for many good conversations.  His love of my aunt Doris showed no bound even when he could no longer care for her as his own health was declining.

These are the measure of a life well-lived.  Each of us have those we look up to as we journey through life and these are a few of mine who laughed, loved, and hopefully helped bring out the best in each of us.  Everyone is surely missed!

Ice