SAVE THE DAY
A couple of weeks ago, shortly after the death of great writer and nature lover Wendell Berry, The Atlantic published a sweet piece by Joe Fassler, entitled “Why Wendell Berry Didn’t Worry About the Future.”
The article’s writer explores a seeming paradox in the poet-philosopher’s life and work. In an interview about ten years ago, Berry pointed to this Bible verse, from Matthew, as one of his guiding principles: “Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” Fassler wonders how to reconcile this sentiment with Berry’s lifelong environmental activism, his commitment to conserving the land that future generations will inherit. “Take no thought for the morrow” sounds almost irresponsible in this context. It could be a slogan for short-term profiteers, for fracking and mountaintop removal.
Berry’s response lives in a collection of essays he published in 2015, Our Only World. In it, he doubles-down on the Bible verse and Jesus’s next line, “Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof.” Today has its own cares; attend to these. We care for the future by living as fully as we can in the present.
Berry writes: “Maybe we could give up saving the world and start to live savingly in it.”
I can’t get this word, “SAVINGLY,” out of my head.
Auto-correct doesn’t like it. The dictionary says its a real word, but it’s one that I don’t think I’ve ever encountered before. I was going to use it as my title, but then decided that it sounded too weird and was maybe off-putting. It jars me, somehow: savingly.
Adverbs in general are a little tricky. Adverbs are words that modify verbs — describing how something is done. He walked slowly. She sang loudly. Most writing coaches will tell you to avoid them if possible, or to use them sparingly if you must, because they can tend to make every action sound melodramatic, a bit overblown or overdone. He opened the door aggressively, furiously entered the room, thoughtlessly tossed the papers on his desk, and desperately howled before slumping despondently into his chair. That’s too many adverbs. There are better ways to communicate the same thing.
[Mark Twain had a special loathing for “very” as an always-redundant word, either as an adverb or adjective. He wrote, “Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very;’ your editor will delete it and your writing will be just as it should be.”]I probably overdo them, but I kind of dig adverbs. Maybe not so much in florid writing; I do get that point. But I like them in the sense that it seems to me that how we do something is at least as important, maybe even more important, sometimes, than what we do. Adverbs are how we do it.
We can do things powerfully or limply, gracefully or clumsily, generously or begrudgingly. This makes all the difference, right? I mean, doing a good thing miserably is more miserable than good. And if we attempted something honestly and hopefully, it’s easy to appreciate even if the result was a total screw-up. We can have difficult conversations kindly, challenge unworkable situations peacefully, and stand up for what’s right lovingly. Adverbs matter.
They speak to a practice of mindfulness, bringing intention and quality to everything we do. Bringing who we are, who we choose to be, to what we do. As we choose to be the presence of beauty, we commit to doing things beautifully. As the presence of plenty, we do things abundantly. Love lovingly. Strengthen strongly.
“Savingly,” though… it feels awkward. I’m gnawing on why.
What does the word even mean? Savingly could suggest frugality — storing and keeping — preserving rather than spending or squandering. But it could also imply something more outwardly heroic — a champion who rescues or protects — being a savior. The two meanings aren’t necessarily exclusive of each other, but they do have quite different senses about them. The former seems cautious, the latter full-out.
So to live savingly could mean to take care, or to hold nothing back. To conserve or to relish. Or both.
In every sense of the word, to save seems at first glance to be about the future, about the outcome — saving for a rainy day or saving creatures from extinction. But to live savingly is always about being present to who we are and how we’re being right now. And recognizing that it matters. We matter.
Maybe that’s the point. We can do whatever we do in whatever ways we’re inclined to do it, but our approach in this moment is always all we’ve ever got.
I don’t think I’ve untangled this all the way, yet. So I’m going to keep it on simmer for a few more days and we’ll see what comes out on Sunday. I can’t wait to be with you. September 20, 10:00am, at q-Staff Theater, with the divine Patty Stephens. XO, Drew
©2026 Drew Groves
