Abode to 2008

2008. All in all, it's been a good year.

Gabe has learned to read and is beginning to really enjoy it. He reads books almost as much as he collects books, which reminds me of his mother. Gabe's 7th birthday party was held at the Young Chef's Academy, where he and several friends cultivated the culinary arts. And, soccer was again a major part of our fall. He seems to be well-rounded. Still, what encourages me most is witnessing the unfolding of this compassionate, funny, and resilient young boy who calls me mom.

Relationships have been a highlight this year. Attending my 20 year reunion at Occidental College provided the opportunity to rekindle longstanding friendships, and also enabled me to transform some college acquaintances into new midlife friends. I also re-entered the dating world in 2008, realizing that "it was time". The timing was nudged by a chance meeting in an airport that led to a whirlwind long-distance Verizon-supported romance. After being reminded of a part of me that I'd shut down for some years, I briefly entertained just "dating" and staying away from relationships only to realize that simply wasn't me. For the past several months, I've enjoyed cultivating a solid foundation for a relationship with a lovely man who helps me to better know myself even as I get to know him. He and I share an appreciation for meaningful conversation, a propensity for the ironic, a deep love for our respective children, and an ability to enjoy life at its simplest. I celebrate all that I am learning with him, including the opportunity and discipline to practice the present and let the future unfold on its own.

I know 2008 was filled with challenge in our world, including the economic downturn. And my life has it's share of woes to be sure. Still, this context has reminded me of the value of the simple joys in my life...meaningful work, a warm home, good friends, a wonderful son, and good health.

2008 has not only been good but has has taught me what "life is good" really means.

Christmas Tunes

My son and I have a small booklet of family devotions for Advent. One of the entries begins by saying: "Let it snow; let it snow; let it snow. Whoever wrote that song probably didn't have to shovel the walk and driveway". I laughed out loud and thought to myself....'exactly'! Similarly, Winter Wonderland wasn't written by a single person. And clearly Irving Berlin wasn't thinking about Bethlehem when he penned White Christmas!

When did a primary image of Christmas become big happy families roasting chestnuts on an open fire [I don't know about you, but I've never roasted a chestnut.)? When did Christmas become about mistletoe and kissing your beau in a "wonderland of snow"? I'm sure my functional family envy mediates my experience of Christmas culture, but I also know these images aren't the point.

Christmas is, actually, about joy; the human embodiment of the fullest revelation of God. Christmas is also about community; the commitment of Joseph to God and to Mary, surely in the midst of much public ridicule for an out of wedlock pregnancy. In addition, Christmas is about displacement and vulnerability; the God of the universe left the comforts of the eternal to take the form of a tiny baby who experienced the challenges of dependence in our temporal world. Christmas is about discomfort; Mary gave birth to the incarnated Christ in a venue built for animals.

Christmas, perhaps, embodies the promise of paradox; I wonder what might be different today if Irving Berlin or Bing Crosby had captured that notion in a catchy tune.

Paradox

In The Promise of Paradox, Parker Palmer not only explores but actually celebrates the contradictions of the Christian Life. The 2008 edition is a republication of Palmer's first book, published 30 years ago when Palmer was 40. In his preface to the 2008 edition, Palmer explores the both the blessing and the curse associated with reissuing Promise. The blessing of returning to the joy of first time authorship, a feat he previously thought himself incapable of. The curse of reading in print what he once believed, and finding points of confirmation and contradiction with his convictions three decades later.

As I've wrestled this week with paradox - hope and fear, joy and suffering, disappointment and expectation - Palmer offers some wisdom: "The promise of paradox is the promise that apparent opposites can cohere in our lives, the promise that if we replace either-or with both-and, our lives will become larger and more filled with light". I think I'll hold onto that promise and allow the apparent opposites of my experience to live in tension, as it were, and just see what happens.

"Hopes and Fears"

Some Christmas Carols are really wonderful reminders of the truth of the the gospel and its relevance for all of life, including the rough times. Indeed, may our "hopes and fears" be met in the incarnation!

O Little Town of Bethehem.

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above,
While mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars together, proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on earth!

How silently, how silently, the wondrous Gift is giv’n;
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His Heav’n.
No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.

Where children pure and happy pray to the blessèd Child,
Where misery cries out to Thee, Son of the mother mild;
Where charity stands watching and faith holds wide the door,
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks, and Christmas comes once more.

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!

The Game of Hope

Hope as the "expectation of something desired"(Oxford Dictionary of Etymology); sometimes expectations go unmet. Random House Webster's augments this definition by noting that hope is "to look forward to with a reasonable confidence", reminding me that perhaps there are times of unreasonable looking forward to. The greater our expectations and desires...the greater sadness when our hopes go unmet. And, while there is perhaps room for "hope against hope" theologically, sometimes the psychological reality of lowering our expectations is a better survival option. Creating space for hope then feels like a game of limbo. We keep lowering expectations in order to avoid disappointment until we have few hopes and lose our balance altogether.

This has been a week in which hope has taken a bit of a beating. My dad returned the hospital this week, and while he is doing much better today, it was a nerve-wracking week from 3000 miles away. With each bout of illness, I come to terms again with the reality that my hopes for a warm father-daughter relationship have gone and will most likely go unfulfilled. Hoping for a different relationship with him does not rise to the level of "reasonable confidence", and yet hope dies hard. I had a reasonable confidence that my son's dad would follow through on his child care commitments, and he fell through yet again this week. And I have challenged myself to not so lower my expectations that he is able to meet them. Yet, it's not easy. And finally, I got through the week with the backdrop of expectation for bringing my "friend, friend" to a special event. This definitely rose to the "reasonable confidence" barometer given that he committed a few weeks ago and hasn't fallen through on any commitment in the six months I've known him. Unfortunately, he forgot and double-booked himself which we realized only yesterday. The disappointment here clearly exasperated by the dashed expectations which have largely characterized my week. He is still working to "fix" the situation, and while I am hopeful, I also recognize that I could be disappointed.

In the middle of all this, I've had some friends who have listened and done their best to help. One gives voice to my sadness when I seem unable to do so myself. Another reminds me to speak truth and yet another encourages me to grieve. If truth prevails, that is a form of hope. And finally another friend, who, when I posed the possibility of him doing me a big favor to help me with my dad dilemma responded, "I will work out whatever needs to be worked out!". Some people simply rise above our expectations....turning the game of limbo into one of hurdles..how high can you go!

There are hopes that are reasonable and some that, perhaps are unreasonable, and hope in people is always dicey. The big hope I need to not sacrifice to the limbo of lowered expectations is that all disappointments are not the same. Some who mess up can't be trusted to or are incapable of fixing things. Still, there are some people who when they mess up do, indeed, do all they can to "put things to right", as N.T. Wright coins in. And there are still others who put things to right even when they had nothing to do with what went wrong. And, I need to be careful not to let even a few major disappointments cause me to let other exemplars of hope fulfilled, such as these friendships, fall down like a series of dominoes.

Intersections

I've been pondering the connections between joy and suffering quite a bit as of late. I have always considered them to be two distinct experiences that aptly describe entirely different moments in time. I am beginning to rethink that demarcation.

My son's dad recently had a daughter with his girlfriend. As any 7 year old would be, Gabe was thrilled to be a big brother. Given my inability to have biological children, the reality that my former husband now has a biological daughter is rough. Because "mom-ness" trumps all else, I keep my sadness to myself and celebrate with and for Gabe his new identity as a big brother. I'm not saying it's easy, but easy has never been an apt descriptor of motherhood.

After a bit of wallowing in being on the suffering side of this equation, I realized my divorce is, essentially, a reversal of the above. While I desperately wanted to stay married to Gabe's dad four years ago, it is now true that the divorce essentially liberated me from great pain; it has become my joy to be whole again. On the other hand, this is a great loss for Gabe. This is merely one exemplar among many that, perhaps, easy is also not an adjective often appropriate to childhood.

And I could go on....my joy as an adoptive mother is intricately tied to the suffering of an entire country. If Guatemala had not had such tumult, I would not have had the opportunity to become a mom to my wonderful Guatemalan-born son.

We aren't promised a life without suffering, and yet I still want to make meaning of how joy and suffering are often two sides of the same coin. Dog gone if I didn't wish joy was always pure. The suffering of Jesus on the cross is also the resurrecting Jesus....it was the very sacrifice of Christ that enables my new life. Perhaps the human condition reflects the interconnection of joy and sorrow in a manner that can bring us closer not only to the Christ who saves but also to the one who suffered. And knowing that Jesus suffered so, oddly, brings me comfort and a sense that I am not alone. It is the Jesus who is able to "suffer with', the etymological root of compassion, who walks alongside me, and all of us, in our suffering.