Nancy Mairs stayed at our local university all last week as “Lenten Writer in Residence.” Together with her husband George, she offered prayerful reflections that come from a life intensely lived.
The intensity of her life finds expression in a series of books, the most recent of which she entitles “A Troubled Guest: Life and Death Stories.” Of this work and its author, one reviewer says: “She never minces words or backs away from strong opinions, neither does she aim to shock.”
Yet, whether she aims to or not, Nancy Mairs does sometimes shock when she talks about her personal life. For example, in telling about the difficulties she has encountered she lists the following three: the multiple sclerosis that has largely confined her to a wheelchair, the murder of an adopted son, and the life-threatening melanoma suffered by her husband.
To these three, she then adds a fourth: the adulterous relationship that George had and now publicly acknowledges. Around the time when he thought he was dying, George was sexually involved with another woman, an event that Nancy has forgiven him.
And yet, despite all that the two of them through have been through over a long marriage, they radiate a peace of soul that impresses me deeply. They seem unconscious of having this effect on others because, when I asked them about the source of that peace, they seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Meditation helps, they answered. Then, paradoxically, they suggested it comes out of an activism directed toward others. “The community pulls us open to the world,” they say, providing a counterweight to caregiving.
Community, for them, is above all their religious community, a group of some 40 people who gather for the Eucharist each Saturday evening in the homes of members. The Mairs became Catholics years ago and much value the small community that shares their faith and their values.
Those who gather each week as “the Community of Christ of the Desert” place strong emphasis on the priesthood of the laity. Though Father Ricardo presides, they all say the central prayer of the Mass together. But “we don’t want to cause the bishop anxiety,” they add.
They live in Tucson, some 70 miles from the Mexican border. Of the struggles connected with the efforts of Mexicans to cross over to the United States side and those of the border police to stop them, the Mairs say: “It’s a war.” Since peace and justice are the main focus of their religious community, they try to provide some assistance to the people who risk their lives trying to cross the desert in search of a better life.
George serves as Nancy’s caregiver, an activity that requires great patience from them both. In the face of her long, slow decline, George says: “I’m sometimes angry at God, sometimes at Nancy.”
It’s a never-ending struggle that requires continued managing of angry emotions: “Some of my prayers are angry prayers,” George admits. “But I get back love,” he says, referring perhaps to both Nancy and God.
And Nancy adds: “We have learned over time that anger happens and you won’t come to an end as a person.” Besides which, they have found they can speak to their two cats. “You can thus communicate information to one another even when you can’t talk to the other guy.”
For Nancy especially, writing also helps. “Because I’m a writer of personal essays, I scrutinize experience the way others may not do,” she explains. George agrees on the value of this activity: “I’m sure her writing has helped us endure.”
Caregiving always threatens to become the center of things. But this couple insists: “Caregiving is not the point of our lives.” They resist allowing it to siphon off their concern for others and for the peace and justice of the larger world.
The murder of their adopted son when he was in his 20s proved devastating to Nancy and George. They did take some consolation from hearing reported a conversation their son had had with a friend sometime before his sudden death. He told his friend that his life had begun at the point when Nancy and George adopted him.
Despite what happened to this young man, this couple continues to stand firmly opposed to capital punishment. Nancy’s reasoning is straightforward: “My son is dead. Why would I want anyone else dead?”
Richard Griffin