Some Things Will Remain True
Elizabeth Barrett Browning was a bit of a rebel and a person with a disability. She was an English poet of the Romantic movement, and as a child, she developed a lung ailment as well as suffered from a spinal injury. Later, when she meets Browning, her family disapproves of him, but she marries him anyway. Then, they left the country and moved to Italy. She suffered throughout her adult life from some unnamed health issues and later died in 1861 at the age of 55. Her exact health issues are unclear, but they may well have included tuberculosis. In those days, opiates were given freely for pain management! Drug addiction from pain medication was common. Hmm?
She wrote many poems about love and service, starting her writings when she was still a child. It amazes me when I read advice from someone who lived so long ago. That tells us that some of humanity’s most essential expectations are fixed and that we must remain focused regardless of the era.
When I look at what we do here at KenCrest, I think that we are on a path of service. That service to our neighbors started 119 years ago, helping people with tuberculosis. It continues in that neighborhood, which struggles with violence and addiction, and in many other neighborhoods, too.
We are organized and committed to serving. However, what we have done and how we have served have changed over the years. As I look to guide the development of our next strategic plan, I know that we will need to change again.
In the late 1960s, my grandmother gave me a book, The Best Loved Poems of the American People. It was first printed in 1936 and compiled by a New York Times editor. In this blog series, I will share some of those poems with you. I will reflect on how they can help us see our path forward and celebrate the goodness of what you do at KenCrest today.
Here is one of Elizabeths’ poems. As they said in elementary school, read this one with feeling!
Reward of Service
The sweetest lives are those to duty wed,
Whose deeds both great and small
Are close-knit strands of an unbroken thread,
Where love ennobles all.
The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells,
The Book of Life the slurring record tells.
Thy love shall chant its own beatitudes,
After its own like working. A child’s kiss
Set on thy singing lips shall make thee glad;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong;
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.