Ames doesn't shy away from difficulties in his account—not just past hardships and relational strains but current challenges that come with aging and impending death. He recognizes that "I meant to leave you a reasonably candid testament to my better self, and it seems to me now that what you must see here is just an old man struggling with the difficulty of understanding what it is he's struggling with." Perhaps he would summarize his struggles as this: "There are two occasions when the sacred beauty of Creation becomes dazzlingly apparent, and they occur together. One is when we feel our mortal insufficiency to the world, and the other is when we feel the world's mortal insufficiency to us."
As he wrestles with how to encourage his son, he hopes that glimmers of grace and love will be effective, even years later: "What have I to leave you but the ruins of old courage, and the lore of old gallantry and hope? Well, as I have said, it is all an ember now, and the good Lord will surely someday breathe it into flame again."
He pictures his son as an old man and delights in it, even as he sees burden and struggle: "Be diligent in your prayers, old man. I hope you will have seen more of the world than I ever got around to seeing . . . and I hope you will have read some of my books. And God bless your eyes, and your hearing also, and of course your heart. I wish I could help you carry the weight of many years. But the Lord will have that fatherly satisfaction."
He concludes: "I'll pray that you grow up a brave man in a brave country. I will pray you find a way to be useful."
"I'll pray, and then I'll sleep."
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This book is remarkable. And beautiful. Wisdom, love, and maturity shine through. But so does frailty, struggle, and weakness—physical and spiritual. It's a poignant portrait of the painful realities of this age but also the bright hope of the next, and the reason to press on. Highly recommended.
Rating: A
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