Only One Life
A song for then and now and then again
The Fall of 2017
Maybe it was unrelenting chronic illness, the death of my mother, the death of a friend that triggered it. Whatever the genesis—in some bittersweet place between pain and artistic promise, the song “Only One Life” emerged. I made a quick piano-and-vocal demo, knowing I wasn’t singing at my best, yet also knowing it wasn’t going to get any better given my illness. Andi and I made a film for the family that Christmas—fifty minutes of a lifetime of memories. The film ends with this song and some final words from my dying mother’s voice, one taken captive by Lewy Body dementia, a conundrum of disease you wouldn’t wish on an enemy.
There is only one life.
That sentence doesn’t deny hope beyond death. But it does refuse to let future hope excuse present absence. What matters now—or eternally—must happen here, in a body, in time, under both glory and shame, within the ordinary freedoms and constraints of this life.
One thing I believe above all else: love cannot be deferred. It is the foundation of all that cannot be left behind.
And despite daily evidence to the contrary, truth cannot be deferred either. It cannot, by definition or by application, be rehearsed, edited, and distorted endlessly without lasting harm to humanity—let me just say it—without killing us.
Humility asks that we consider whether we’ve got it wrong, misunderstood, or seen what was not actually there. Then wisdom says thank you, humility, for that essential introduction. Because it is also just as possible that what you see and hear is real and trustworthy—happening now, in this one life, where everything matters.
Links to Song: APPLE SPOTIFY AMAZON YOUTUBE
There is only one life.
Again, not a sentence of despair. A call to loving, imaginative (and often courageous) presence. A refusal to disappear from the stage before the curtain closes—though it will close, and what we all leave behind is a life story.
“Only One Life” is my broken heart and my renewed commitment to inhabit the time that remains with big eyes and big ears—like the hokey pokey, to put my whole self in—again. I hope it will inspire you to do the same.
If you have trust, belief, or curiosity in a Creator God who is with you and not against you, then have a talk with God. Pray for clarity, humility, and love—for what to do with your resources and convictions (even your anger)—precisely because whatever follows death, it appears, at present, that this one life matters greatly and will not be repeated.
“Only One Life” is dedicated to my mother, Alice Margaret Ashworth, who passed away at age eighty-one in Franklin, Tennessee, on September 4, 2017. She was born to Marvin and Lois Williamson in Durant, Oklahoma, the termination point for the Choctaw Trail of Tears. Alice’s family moved west to California when she was three years old. She graduated from Yuba City Union High School in 1953 and earned her Associate of Arts degree from Yuba College in 1955. She married musician Calvin “Bill” Ashworth on June 30, 1955. Other than seven months in Wyoming at the beginning of their marriage, Alice lived in Yuba City, California, for seventy-four years, before moving to the Nashville area in 2013 to be close to her adult children and families. She was a lover of God, people, and words. Alice was also involved in the Christian Women’s Club, Soroptimist International, Bible studies, Pink Lady hospital volunteering, and many other creative and volunteer activities. She enjoyed her family, reading, crossword puzzles, gardening, needlepoint, and writing poetry.
So good. Always love your voice.
Yes, you put your whole self in! I forgot about the Hokey Pokey. Thank you.