And Here Is a Lanyard

Sarah Mackin

The other night, several Fellows and a staff member held an impromptu poetry reading around the dining room table at Windrush House. As the rest of us listened in delight, one Fellow read aloud his favorite poem by Billy Collins. In this poem, titled “Lanyard,” the poet slowly builds tension by contrasting a son’s gift of a seemingly useless lanyard with his mother’s gift of care and most fundamentally, life itself. The poem climaxes with the following stanzas:

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Why do we relish this conclusion so? Besides Collins’ delicious style, I believe the poem resonates with readers because at some point we too have approached our parents and others who had given so much, with gifts of little significance, believing that our paltry offerings can somehow repay them.

Even though we’re old enough to know better, we still play this game (at least I do). One way that we’re celebrating Christmas among the Fellows is by making ornaments that represent one another. We’ve had a great deal of fun discovering new, excessively creative decorations on our tree several times a week as each is finished and displayed. But not everyone has enjoyed our assignment. For me, this project was stressful because it was difficult to come up with an idea that seemed “good enough.” These feelings faded when I discovered the ornament that represented me on the tree. We are each experiencing the simple joy of receiving a heartfelt gift, which someone has hand-crafted or chosen with us in mind.

One of the most difficult aspects of living in the community, for me, is remembering that the most important thing I can bring to any of our activities is my full attention. Even better is to come having spent some moments of quiet prayer and meditation over scripture. Does this sound egotistical? When one of us is distracted, either by a relationship outside the community or work we are trying to complete, such as a graduate school application (both of which are good things), we participate less. Our comments in class are fewer or less insightful; we do not give our full attention to the weekly scheduling meeting and miss important details or the opportunity to help another; we neglect to prepare effectively for the meal we are responsible to cook for the household.

Conversely, one of the greatest joys of our life together is caring for one another. And we do it humbly; not by saying, “Well, I know someone else could do this better, so I’ll just leave you to wait for them,” but by offering what we can give at the time to our sister or brother in need. A primary example of this is the way that we are learning to care for two of our Fellows who have significant knee injuries. Another Fellow will often offer to take over one of their Lodge work shifts for them, or to do the heavier work in order to allow them to rest. This is a joy for us, but sometimes difficult for them to accept. They feel that they are not giving enough to the community.

Christians know a secret about gift giving that our lives are whispering to all those around us. It’s not your money or your time God is after, although these things are significant and worthy sacrifices and indeed, absolutely necessary. We can learn from Romans 12. Here Paul talks about love and giving ourselves as gifts and about Christians as a body with many members, each of whom plays a vital role. He encapsulates his thesis in verses 1 and 2, “Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

What I am learning during this busy time of Advent is that loving God and loving my neighbors means putting down my shopping lists and fancy wrapping and offering myself as a gift. It’s not that the formal stuff isn’t worth something. It’s just that it doesn’t mean anything if I don’t put myself into the giving.

Funny thing is, from Collins’ mother’s perspective, they were even. What we often miss is that in his grace, God’s not even keeping score.  

Sarah Mackin, a 2007 Academy Fellow, has never constructed a lanyard. She does enjoy knitting, especially cell phone cozies and sweatervests. When she's not working on handmade gifts, she's busy investigating the history of higher education in the United States and applying to graduate school.

2 Responses • Fellows, Tue 12 Dec 2006