petermaize

Life IS a dress rehearsal

Archive for the tag “family”

30 Mar 2026

Where your treasure is…

A friend of mine is dying from Parkinson’s disease. He was diagnosed 15 years ago, when he was at the peak of his career. At that time he was the president of a big company, had a house overlooking the Pacific Ocean and lots of money. As his body succumbed to the disease, my friend became reflective, humble and thoughtful–considerably different than he had been during his rise to the top. He accepted his fate with minimal anger or self-pity, although he was occasionally prone to moments of despair.

Recently I reflected on what my friend would have done if he were offered this choice: he could experience the great personal and professional accomplishments of his life, but with the knowledge that his body and mind would slowly waste away before he turned 65–or he could accept a simpler, less ‘successful’ life, but one in which he would remain healthy and content until he died in his sleep at the age of 80.

I never got the chance to propose this hypothetical question to my friend. He is no longer capable of conversation and has advanced dementia. What do you think? Do we expect that athletes who win gold in the Olympics would choose the consequences of a sudden, early death instead of a life of mediocrity and anonymity? What would James Dean’s answer have been before he was killed in a terrible accident at the age of 24? Would he have chosen to die young but exist forever as an American icon instead of living a long, healthy life as a happy but insignificant citizen?

But is the only variable in this fictional equation the choice of long life or success? Many people don’t wish to be famous or succeed on the world’s terms. A percentage of those people will also die prematurely from Parkinson’s or some other fate. It is a truism that the most important thing is not how long you live but how well you live. Does the expectation (or hope) that they will live a long time allow a person to indulge their impulses and ignore their imperfections? In my friend’s case, he was often vain and insensitive when his career was ascending. In the years after he left his job to receive treatment he became reflective and gentle.

I am presently focused on achieving things: publishing a book, writing articles. Of course I try to be a good person, etc etc. Jesus said “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Treasures can come in many types and sizes. I wouldn’t have wanted my friend’s job in a big company, but I want other things. Am I ignoring what really counts because I’m acting as if I will live forever? What if my choice was to ignore the passions that motivate me and focus more on serving God and my fellow brothers and sisters? I hear you say ‘why not do both?’ Perhaps I could. It’s a question of treasure.

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06 Dec 2025

Circumstances

I still don’t know why I did it.

A day at the beach with family. Frantic calls from people on the rocks. A young girl floundering in the waves. Without hesitation I run into the sea to rescue her.

That’s not like me. I’m not the hero type. I like to think I have high ideals and a good sense of morality; that I would be willing to sacrifice for a cause. But on a hero/coward spectrum, I would place myself in the middle. Besides, I’m 67 years old, and although I’m in good shape, I am not a strong swimmer.

This all happened last month, on a beach in Hong Kong that is remote, beautiful and expansive. If you go there during the week, you’re likely to find a handful of beachgoers, lots of seashells and pleasant, warm surf. Even on weekends, it’s not overcrowded. Tourists from Mainland China like to go there, primarily to snap photos of themselves on the large outcropping of rocks that juts into the ocean. My wife, our two children and their fiancees had hiked to the beach and were playing a game of Spike Ball badly on the sand, when we heard the commotion. People shouting. My wife thought maybe they were making a video. But we could discern a single voice repeatedly, frantically crying “Help!”

Out in the waves, not too far from shore, a girl was bobbing in the surf, waving her arms and disappearing under consecutive waves, only to bob back up. Without thinking, I started running. I hadn’t planned to go swimming that day, so I was wearing cargo shorts. Made slow progress as I waded through waves at the shoreline, then began to swim slowly toward the girl. My son had followed right behind me, and I was relieved to see that this young, strong rugby player was passing me and cutting through the waves while I laboriously made incremental progress. I felt the undertow that was keeping the girl from making it to shore, and began to wonder whether I was in trouble. My son reached the girl and brought her safely to dry land while I struggled to get myself to the beach. The girl was still clinging onto him, long after they had stepped away from the water’s edge. My son looked back to make sure he didn’t have to undertake another rescue, but as I slowly waded to shore, I gave him a thumbs-up.

I won’t write further about the grateful mother, the stunned girl or the indifference of the multitude that wandered the shore. My son was impressively humble about the rescue. The incident seemed to pass with a minimum of review or excitement. We got back home and had dinner. I didn’t share my thoughts and feelings, but I was confounded by what I’d done and perplexed about why I’d done it. Over the next couple of weeks, my wife enjoyed recounting the episode to friends, focusing as much on the apathy of other beachgoers as the heroics of her son (my role, although mentioned, understandably got less attention than the successful rescue). I have not brought the subject up with anyone, and my son and I have yet to do a debriefing on what prompted us to respond as we did.

When my wife tells the story, often the listeners point out the danger involved in attempting to rescue a drowning swimmer. They mention that the conditions that put the swimmer in danger would also confront the rescuer, along with the danger of the panicked swimmer dragging the rescuer down with them–that sort of thing. There seems to be a practical assessment of the situation that indicates that it is dangerous–or even foolhardy–to try to rescue a drowning swimmer. Leave it to the professionals, or accept that nothing could be done.

I get it. And there was a moment there where I thought I might be in trouble as the “elderly” would-be rescuer realised he also was in danger of drowning. Perhaps it was unwise to rush into the water without understanding the conditions involved and recognising my limited ability to rescue someone. I have never attempted anything like this before and although I would like to think I’m someone who would put his life on the line to aid a person in danger, until last month I had never done so.

Why did I? I began running without analysing the situation or thinking about what I was doing. As I reflect on this incident, I have no answers. I am astonished that this late in my life I can still surprise myself. I am left with the feeling that something profound happened. I don’t share this incident to bolster my image: after all, not only did I not rescue the girl, I didn’t come close and who knows if I would have been able to if I had reached her. But I have drawn a few conclusions. One is based on a tragic story that a friend mentioned after my wife finished sharing about the incident at the beach. The friend recounted a time many years ago when a man rescued a drowning mother and daughter after heavy waves had swept them out to sea on the south side of Hong Kong Island. He was able to get them safely to shore, but then drowned himself, unable to climb out of the pounding surf before he became exhausted from the effort. His wife and children looked on in horror as he died. I remember the incident–it happened shortly after we arrived in Hong Kong 35 years ago. But while our friends agreed that sometimes “there’s nothing you can do” and tacitly implied that the man should not have attempted to rescue the pair, I disagreed. I can’t say that I would run into the waves again if I saw a drowning girl–I didn’t know that I would do it when it happened last month. But sometimes these circumstances demand a response that doesn’t involve calculation. This is a deep mystery to me, because I didn’t think I was someone who would reflexively spring into action to (attempt) to save someone in danger.

I don’t know if I would do it again. But I’m glad I did it.

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18 Apr 2024

A Life’s Worth

A LIFE’S WORTH

My mother is 93 years old. She is cheerful, content and comfortable. Dementia has robbed her of the ability to remember what she had for lunch, the names of my children or what I do for a living. We have conversations where she might ask the same question several times. She won’t remember the answer and I’ll hear the question again during our next call. Eventually, soon, she won’t remember me.

Her caregivers adore my mother. They take the time to chat with her because she is gentle, amiable and has a pretty good sense of humor. Taking care of her is not challenging for them, although Mother is weak and requires assistance to meet her basic needs.

For the past several years my job has involved providing care for children with severe disabilities. Few of them will ever be able to live independently; many have both intellectual and physical disabilities. One of the children, Feiguo, spends his day in bed, his body severely constrained by cerebral palsy. Feiguo has the brightest, most contagious smile I have ever seen. His caregivers adore him. They linger by his bedside, stroking his head and chatting, even though Feiguo is not capable of verbalizing words anymore. Taking care of him is not challenging for them, although he can barely move and requires assistance to meet his basic needs.

In a world where people are judged by their abilities and accomplishments, what is the value of those who possess few abilities and don’t accomplish anything? Those who are fading from life and those who never really had a chance? It is costly to provide services to these people: an investment with no quantifiable return. In China, where Feiguo lives, citizens are exhorted to contribute to the greater good and the race for prosperity motivates millions. In the United States, where my mother lives, youth is celebrated, along with success. Both societies recognize and accept the fact that people like Feiguo and my mother must be cared for. Often this is seen as more of an obligation than an opportunity.

The word ‘care’ has two entwined meanings. One refers to an action and implies that the recipient requires someone to look after them and meet their needs. The other is an emotion. It is a response, not a judgement. When we measure people by their productivity or their ability to function in society, people with severe disabilities can be viewed the way banks view non-performing loans: not as an asset, but a net loss.   

Are the elderly people sequestered in an “assisted living home” contributing anything? Do severely disabled children have value? If the metric you use to answer these questions is based on their ability to love and be loved, then I claim they have at least as much value as selfish strivers in either society who don’t value the act of caring. The worth of a young man confined to a bed, yet smiling serenely at those who see him each day, is not based on what he can do. His value was established when he was born. My mother’s worth is not based on what she was able to accomplish in the first 90 years of her life. Like all of us, her worth comes from the fact that, as a human being, she is capable of loving and being loved, and her dignity as a person is not reduced because she can’t remember where I live.

She is contributing. Feiguo’s life is valuable. A life’s worth is already innate in each person. Their ability to love—to care—is the ultimate expression of that pre-installed value. But the value is not diminished by physical or mental obstacles. Just ask the people who care.  

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