Grammar of Gratitude

In November 2009, I attended a weekend-long retreat at Prairiewoods Franciscan Spirituality Center in Hiawatha, IA.  The nuns there are Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration, and the retreat center is ecologically thoughtful, homey and warm, restful and deeply spiritual.

“Prairiewoods Franciscan Spirituality Center is founded on an incarnational theology rooted in the Gospel life of Jesus that sees God as present and active in this world. . . . We believe that our God is here among us and that Earth and all of creation are sacramental in nature, signifying in the presence of the Divine. Accordingly, Prairiewoods opens its doors and its 70 acres of woods and prairie for the spiritual benefit of all who come.”

I went alone, was given a beautiful, corner room in the guest dormitory building, joined about 15 other women (and one man) for a contemplative weekend.  I am surprised how often I cast my thoughts back there.  With so little effort I recall the flavors of their soups and breads, the blue darkness and glow of candlelight in dining room, the sound of our chanting voices and the screeing hawk answering us from far overhead, how graceful I felt moving in meditative rhythms on the grass that frosty morning.  I hope to go again this year sometime.

But this blog is not really about that weekend, it’s about 2011.  I am 43 and overweight and acutely aware of it.  My cholesterol is on my mind, as well as my blood sugar, noisy joints, a tetchy kidney and various other little physical reminders.  I will not be happier if I lose weight, but I will feel better, and I will do myself lasting good, so I resolve to exercise and eat better and be mindful of myself.  But this blog is not really about that either.  

Last week I received my newsletter from Prairiewoods, and the woman there who buys books for their bookstore had a great article about spiritually literate New Year’s resolutions.  With credit to Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, here are those resolutions:

1.      I will live in the present moment.  I will not obsess about the past or worry about the future.

2.      I will cultivate the art of making connections.  I will pay attention to how my life is intimately related to all life on the planet.

3.      I will be thankful for all the blessings in my life.  I will spell out my days with a grammar of gratitude.

4.      I will practice hospitality in a world where too often strangers are feared, enemies are hated, and the “other” is shunned.  I will welcome guests and alien ideas with graciousness.

5.      I will seek liberty and justice for all.  I will work for a free and fair world.

6.      I will add to the planet’s fund of goodwill by practicing little acts of kindness, brief words of encouragement and manifold expressions of courtesy.

7.      I will cultivate the skill of deep listening.  I will remember that all things in the world want to be heard, as do the many voices inside me.

8.      I will practice reverence for life by seeing the sacred in, with and under all things of the world.

9.      I will give up trying to hide, deny or escape from my imperfections.  I will listen to what my shadow side has to say to me.

10.  I will be willing to learn from the spiritual teachers all around me, however unlikely or unlike me they may be.

Evil in my Back Yard

Most bad ideas seem like good ideas at the time they’re unfolding.  I have a ton of 1977 motor home parked on my back lawn to support this statement.

Summer, two years ago, we were looking for a camper, and my friend got a lead on an RV in Hartley.  The guy wanted $3000 for it, a self-contained class C motor home.  My parents loaned us the money, and we drove up to Hartley on a Sunday, I think it was the weekend before Labor Day weekend.  At the time, we did not have a vehicle that could pull a camper, so this seemed like a good choice for us.

It was ~30 years old, had 80,000+ miles on it and some hail damage but otherwise was in pretty good shape, all things considered.  The owner, an older man, had worked on it himself, replace the battery and alternator, got it cleaned up and running.  He cautioned that we should unhook the battery if we planned to leave it sitting for long periods of time, but he and his wife had traveled all over in it, even pulled a jeep with it.  We took it for a drive.  Everything seemed OK.  We offered the guy $2100, and he took it!    

Suckers, er, proud owners of a motor home, we started the 3 ½ hour drive home.

After an hour or so on the road, with me driving lead in the car, and my husband, our daughter and our dog in the motor home, he started flashing his lights at me and gesturing I should pull over.  I did.  When he pulled in behind me I could hear the noise.  A steady, rhythmic clanging.  We looked under the hood, couldn’t see anything.  Let’s just keep going I suggested, and we drove on to the next town and pulled into a bank parking lot.  I called my dad in Minnesota, and he listened over the phone.  His assessment: the fan is hitting something.  My husband crawled under the front end but couldn’t get a good enough look.  Let’s just keep going I suggested again.  We can make it home.

We made it another half an hour before stopping.  My husband was getting really worried.  We crept on through Fort Dodge and stopped again along Hwy 169 within view of Hwy 30.  It was getting dark.  We had no tools.  I drove back to town and bought a flashlight.  We thought about abandoning it there for the night, but decided to drive it back into town where we were fortunate enough to be able to leave it parked behind the Casey’s.   We finally made it home around 10:00 pm.

My husband took Monday off, got some advice on what to look for, bought some tools, drove back to Fort Dodge and fixed the beast.  The alternator had not been properly bolted in place.  It had shifted, and the fan was indeed hitting it.  He got a jump because the battery wouldn’t hold a charge.  He left his car behind Casey’s and drove home.  We drove back up that night to get his car and drove home again separately.

It was nearly a year before we licensed it, and that cost over $300.  We had it into the shop to get the battery replaced and have it checked over.  They also repaired the fuel line.  That cost ~$100.  We took it camping once, a year ago over Labor Day weekend.  We drove to a campground less than 10 miles from home.  Actually, my husband drove the motor home and followed me as I drove our new truck, one that can tow.  The speedometer doesn’t work, and the odometer is disconnected.  We had to buy some new electrical cords to plug in, but we had good weekend camping.  It was fun, but it was difficult.  We knew that this motor home business was not going to be good for us.  We parked it in the driveway, and this past spring we started looking for a small camper that we could pull with our truck.  In April we purchased a beautiful little 19-foot travel trailer, and we used it several time over the summer, including a week-long vacation camping in Minnesota and Illinois.  We love it.

We hate the motor home.  It has become an evil presence in our back yard.  We had to move it off the driveway and park it in the grass close to the alley by our garden.  It sat all summer.  It killed all the grass.  We have signs in it,  For Sale $2500 OBO.  We’ve had interest.  I fret over it sitting there all winter, and so we decided to at least drive it up onto wood slabs for the winter.  Chalk up one more fiasco, one more point to the motor home. 

It took more than a half an hour to get it started so that it would stay running while he put it in gear.  He backed up onto the boards and immediately slid off.  Over and over and over.  We jockeyed positions, tried again, spun the wheels, burned rubber and never made it on those boards again.  We were shouting at each other.  The air was filled with the smell of fuel and exhaust and hot wood and hot rubber.  The neighbors were certainly wondering what the hell was going on.  We gave up in the interest of saving our marriage.

What seemed like a good idea has really not turned out that way, and we still owe my parents $500.  Hopefully when spring comes we can turn our luck around a little.  We plan to license it again and get it fixed up so that it runs better with a working odometer.  I am optimistic that we can sell it.  We just have to keep going.

What Happens Next

I am the oldest of three.  My sister and I are 16 months apart in age.  My brother and I are 6 years apart.   

My brother and sister have never had an especially friendly relationship.  When she was in high school, they had a fight just before school pictures, and she clawed his face.  He had scabs in his photo that year.  

For a long time, my sister competed with me and belittled or ignored my accomplishments.  I learned to live with and not be too sad about it.  When my husband and I announced our engagement, my sister and her now-husband decided that they were getting married too, a month before us.  Our happy news that we were expecting a baby was met by silence and stares.  If I’d said that I’d decided to sell a piece of my brain, she would have been more interested.  It turned out that my daughter, my brother’s daughter and my sister’s son were all born in the same year. 

A lot of years have gone by since those days, with their usual ups and downs.  I’ve had really good times with my sister and brother both.  It hasn’t all been a struggle.

But until recently, my brother and sister had not spoken meaningfully in four years.  No holidays together, no birthday celebrations, no summer gatherings.   It was hard to cope with at first.  Beside their own anger and issues with each other, I had to deal with my sister being mad with me because I wasn’t categorically on her side against my brother.  

Over Halloween this year they had a conversation though and apparently have been talking since then.  We’ll all be spending time together on Christmas Eve at my sister’s house this year.  She and her husband have two children.  Our parents will be there.  My husband and our daughter and I will be there.  My brother, his three children (by two different mothers), his girlfriend and two of her children will be there.   

Suddenly I can’t breathe.  My shoulders are in knot, and my jaw’s clenched just thinking about the potential for disaster, making a poorly timed sarcastic comment, not acting interested enough about her trip to Fiji .  I’m fretting over what to bring that correctly fits the parameters she’s issued for food, and I’m worrying about slippers because we’re not allowed to wear our shoes on her wood floors.

And then there’s a tiny space where I manage to inhale, deeply, and when I exhale the space opens up further.  In the gap I see my fears and anxieties for what they are.  Shadows.  There’s no reason to seize up, control, grasp or push away.  I breathe in all the fear and stress that so many people are feeling this time of year.  I breathe out calm. 

I'm not afraid of what happens next.  I get to spend an evening with my dear siblings, come what may.

Her Loving Disapproval . . . or Mixed Emotions Are the Strongest

I’m feeling a little guilty after my last diatribe where my friend J. commented that she found it sad.  I have to wonder if she means pathetic or just disheartening.  Either way, I feel bad that I so often give her reason to feel sorry for me and make comments like “Hmmmmm,” which I know is how she politely expresses her disapproval of my beliefs.

For clarification, I was jaded, sarcastic and humbug-ish the last time I wrote.  I have the right to feel that way sometimes.  I am neither atheist nor anti-Christian.  Jesus is one of my favorite teachers, a figure I admire very much and also feel extremely sorry for.  

We were decorating our Christmas tree this week and found the little cut glass “Jesus people” and also a wood-carved nativity scene.  I am glad to put them out in my display along with an Scandinavian-styled Santa, a porcelain sleigh with a festive floral arrangement, numerous holiday-themed candle holders and a caroler my daughter made from a toilet paper roll, complete with cotton ball hair and toothpick arms holding up a wee little song book.  Yes, we put a star on top of our tree. 

I know it’s just made up that December 25^th is Jesus’ birthday.  It was a pagan holiday long before Christians took it over, but hey, that’s true of a lot of stuff.  It’s silly for me to be in a funk about it.  I’m glad Jesus was born, and I’m going to have a better attitude about the “reason for the season.”  But let’s be honest, Christmas is a secular holiday too.  I’m pretty damn sure that atheists, agnostics and people who just don’t have any religious feelings in particular put up trees and hang up their stockings, sing carols and exchange gifts with friends and family.  

Don’t be too hard on me, J.  I love you too.