On Being Yourself

Who are the saints in your life? Lincoln? King? Mother Teresa?

It is probably not a surprise to learn that saints are not perfect. Like you and me, saints are troubled by doubt, tempted by desire, attracted to power and popularity.

So what makes them shine so brightly in our lives?

Marcia Dane was a saint in my life. She was born into a wealthy New England family. In her infancy, Marcia was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. Back in those days, doctors did not know as much as they do now about this disorder. Her impairment was referred to as “spasticity,” an attempt to describe the effects of Cerebral Palsy, the muscles of the body move involuntarily, the mouth and jaws twitch, arms flail about.

Marcia’s family provided the best doctors, some offered risky, experimental operations on her feet and ankles. Others provided physical and speech therapy and psychological counseling so that she might live a “normal” life. She would cry about this and beg not to have to work at it. But her therapists were firm. Like a good coach they caught her up short. “Listen to yourself, and make a decision. You either want to improve or you don’t. Make a decision. Right now. Or go home.”

More than anything, Marcia wanted to fit in. She worked harder.

Going to public school was painful for Marcia. No one wanted to be friends with a “Spaz.” Eventually, she was sent to an all-girls boarding school because her parents felt that the people there would be nicer.

Marcia was a fine scholar, but boarding school and college at Mount Holyoke had a troubling effect on her. She learned to control her spasms, but she still walked with a limp, and her mouth still had twitches. She was preoccupied with being popular. She went out of her way to be liked by the sorority girls—organizing parties and arranging dates for the popular girls. She had two handsome brothers, and they had friends, but none were keen on dating Marcia.

In college, Marcia was often lonely in her heart. Listening to the other girls talk, she would pick up on the whispers: “Who would want to dance with her?” “No boy would ever want to kiss her.”

In those days, when the women’s colleges like Smith and Holyoke held dances, men were invited from colleges like Williams and Amherst. Dance cards were distributed to the women, and men would fill them in. Mary would dance the first dance with John Doe, Dance 2 with Adam Jones, Dance 3 with Bill Smith, and so on. Girls shared their dates with their friends. “You can have my Bill for dance #2.” “OK, you can have my Jimmy for #4.” and so on.

Marcia was a wallflower. She sat on the sidelines because no one wanted their date to have to dance with Marcia.

Hurt but ever prideful, Marcia persevered in her quest for acceptance and popularity.

Until mid-term of her senior year.

That was when a big senior social was held. Determined not to be a wallflower for this dance, Marcia asked one of her brothers, a junior at Bowdoin, to come be her date. It was all arranged, but when he arrived he was not alone. He explained that it would not be fitting for her to have to settle for her brother as dance partner, so he brought a friend. When Marcia’s friends saw her date, they nearly fainted. He was a drop-dead handsome, athletic, self-assured gentleman, and he looked like he would be a great dancer. Of course Marcia was all too willing to share his name on all of the other girls’ dance cards, and the girls were all too happy to accept and exchange their dance partners with Marcia.

But something different happened that night, something that changed the course of Marcia’s life.

Marcia was not that bad a dancer. She had learned to manage the impairment well enough to be able to enjoy movement and music. But she had not intended to dance, but eager to introduce her date to her new friends.

How surprised she was when he declined. In a firm but gentle manner, he said, “I came to be with you, to dance with you. Make a decision. You either want to dance with me or you don’t. Make a decision. Right now. Or go sit on the sideline.”

Marcia was puzzled at first. And then he explained: “When your brother described you to me, I had no idea you would be so graceful and charming. Thank you for inviting me. It is my wish to dance every dance with you, and only with you”

The other girls were astounded. They could not understand, especially the glamorous ones, why the most handsome man they had ever seen would want to spend his entire evening dancing with Marcia.

Something began to change in Marcia’s priorities and commitments after that experience. She continued to seek friendships among her peers, but stopped trying so hard to be accepted and liked.

She graduated from Mount Holyoke in 1925, went on to Columbia to earn a masters degree, left her family in Boston and headed to Brooklyn, NY to do social work. Later she returned to Cambridge and took a second masters degree in education. Every step was a battle; not only was she a woman, but a “spastic” woman.

Marcia died in 1997 at the age of 92. She never married and never had children. Her life was devoted to rescuing those who had lost their way, men and women with dreams and goals, but without support or means to achieve them.

I was privileged to know Marcia for over 40 years, and I was sitting with her when she drifted into a coma and died peacefully. One of the people she rescued was my mother, and after my mother, …,

… well, that is another story.

The point of this story is that saints are folks like you and me, but maybe more determined. Who is the saint in Marcia’s story? Her mother and father? Her doctors and therapists? Her brother? Her unnamed, handsome man? Marcia?

Saints often start out self-centered and arrogant. Over time they throw off their pettiness and become steadfast in their convictions. They resist equivocation, they do not read the polls first and then make choices according to what is popular.

Most of all, saints choose to live boldly in the world, with all of its mess and shame and suffering. They live with dignity and treat others the same way.

I see saints as those who choose to follow someone like Jesus, not to the next world, but back into this one. They are coaches, teachers, and doctors, cooks, mechanics and fisherfolk—people whose voices beckon the best in us.

Saints see through barriers and follow the truth.

Never let someone tell you a male can’t coach a women’s team, or a white teacher can’t teach black history, or Christians can’t make peace with Muslims and Jews. It simply isn’t true. The New Testament message is not about making a difference but making a connection.

There is a Gospel story in which Jesus calls Lazarus back from death and into the world, and I wonder why. The best answer I can come up with is this. We are all God’s children, and thus we belong to God. But belonging to God is not about being in heaven, admiring angels. It is about being in the world, right here and right now, doing good and calling on others to do the same. Saints encourage others to have faith, and to make decisions, right now.

And when someone like Jesus shows up to dance with them, they dance.