Happy Holidays!……or not….

Thanksgiving dinner was at my house; present being my brother and parents, and our two grown children. Other than the ham being too done and the rolls rising too much I thought things went pretty well. Dad and brother didn’t get in an argument, brother appeared less depressed than is usual on a holiday, hubby was helpful, and I managed not to do anything to inadvertantly upset the kids. Thank you God.

By late afternoon eveyone but one child had left and I could relax. Not only had things gone rather well, but I had managed to get through the day without getting upset myself. Holidays are never easy it seems, and honestly, that makes me angry. Holidays and family time together are supposed to be fun, right? So why is it, I have often wondered, that I would just as soon skip the entire holiday season? It is not fun. It is not happy. Holidays are days to be endured.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not anti-holiday. I love Thanksgiving in principal and I really enjoy this time of year at school, spending more time than is necessary educating my students about the Pilgrims and the reasons they came to the New World in the first place. I’m finding ways to enjoy Christmas within the parameters of the church; the anticipation of Advent, the music, and the beauty of the Christmas Eve service. The rest of Christmas however, the shopping, gifts, music, cards, baking, and etcetera, do nothing but make me feel inadequate and stressed. When it’s over I’m left with a dull ache in my heart that doesn’t begin to dissipate until mid-January.

In an effort to make some sense of the way I feel, I go back to the holidays of my childhood. Holidays were never a huge big deal like in many families. Mom did try to make things special though. Perhaps she tried too hard, because I don’t ever remember her has being anything but very stressed on such occasions. Dad, who worked 3rd shift, was around more during the days on holidays but that was a mixed blessing. He was hard to please, and my mother, and eventually my bother, bore the brunt of his harsh words. We all walked on eggshells. When I picture holidays at home I picture a little girl trying not to cry, or hiding in her room crying in private. It’s taken me most of my adult life to admit it, but while I have a few happy memories overall holidays were not happy times in the home I grew up in.

So the little girl grew up determined that things would be different and better in her own young family. She tried hard, probably too hard because she was always stressed and things never turned out like she hoped. Her husband was a gentle man, but not easy to please, so she kept trying harder. Her children, hopefully, have some good memories of their childhood holidays but have also been left with a deep sense of unrest and grief that holidays in their house were not quite the joyous events for which everyone seemed to hope. The grown up little girl still tries not to cry.

Pilgrim Heroes and Other Thanksgiving Thoughts

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite times of the year at school. I have some really good books about Thanksgiving and the Pilgrims that are illustrated with photos taken at Plimoth Plantation. (I really want to go there!!) The interpretive guides at Plimoth do not at all look like the image of a Pilgrim that has been promoted for at least the past 50 years; black hats with buckles, black and white clothing, buckled shoes. I think it’s safe to assume that the historians at Plimoth know what they’re doing, so I try to bust the myth of the Pilgrims manner of dress. I read that some Puritans dressed the way we envision the Pilgrims, but the people at Plimoth did not. Even so, when we made paper pilgrim hats today one of the boys insisted upon drawing a buckle on his hat.

A couple of weeks ago we read about the Mayflower voyage, then colored a drawing of the famous ship pasted to a background of sea and sky of the kids own creation. I remember a girls several years ago who had drawn a stormy sky with lightening and something else I could not identify hovering close to the ship. When asked, the girl explained that the “something else” was an angel and it was there because people were dying. Ah yes, I’m certain you are right dear girl; surely there were angels on the Mayflower! (Click for photos and information on the Mayflower II voyage in 1957.)

Today we can only imagine, and probably not well at that, the tremendous hardship the Pilgrims suffered on their voyage and during that first winter in the New World. Not all those on the Mayflower travelled for religious reasons; there were some who made the voyage for more or less economic reasons. Whatever the reason a folks found themselves on that ship though, I think they must have had a good amount of faith to have survived. By the end of the first winter about half of the men, women, and children who had made the voyage had died of sickness, starvation, and cold. As I tell my students, “try to imagine 100 people in a space not much bigger than our classroom; no electricity, no toilets, and most everyone is sick to their stomachs or throwing up! What would it smell like?” Sorry, but that alone would do me in. I am obviously not of Pilgrim stock.

I admire and have the greatest respect for those brave souls who sailed on the Mayflower. I think of those mothers who brought their children into the dangerous unknown, and of those mothers who left their children behind hoping to send for them later. As we celebrate now in 2007 at our overstuffed tables in our overly comfortable homes, let us remember the heroes of that first Thanksgiving in 1621.

Darkness Lurking

Sunday….my favorite day of the week. Church this morning was chilly as the furnace is not working properly, but it surely warmed my soul to worship with my brothers and sisters in Christ at St. Peter’s.  Sometimes I think I could go to church every day and not tire of it. 

Later I went to the library to drink coffee and read, and it was there that I realized that the darkness was lurking about. I got none of the things I needed to do today done. I huddled in my bed and read and tried not to think.

I’ve dealt with depression for as long as I can remember and I believe the darkness would have destroyed my life entirely were it not for God’s grace and mercy. True depression is a place of darkness so dark that no light can penetrate the black shroud around you.  It can’t be chased away by an act of will, or doing the “right” things, or even, perhaps more often than not, by prayer alone.  It still hurts to think about what I was like during the worst times, and it’s been close to 15 years since then.  When I sense a dark fog on the perimiters of my consciousness, it takes all the faith I’ve got to convince myself that I will not visit that hellish place again.

So why, I ask the Only One Who Knows, is the darkness lurking? It could be the upcoming holidays, for various reasons. It could be hormones. It could be that for some reason right now I need to remember the Darkness so that I can appreciate the Light. I don’t have an answer to my question as yet. I don’t want to think about it, but it’s probably important that I do. I must be on the offensive when dealing with Darkness; if I wait to defend myself it will be too late. So I will think and pray, and pray and think, and ponder just what is going on and what I am to do about it, and hope it’s nothing more than a cloud passing in front of the sun.

Longing for Jesus

I just want to sit at your feet, lean my head on your knee, and be.

Jesus, sometimes lately I wonder if I know you at all. You are so much more than I know, so much more than I have experienced, so much more than I have the capacity to understand. Advent is near; that time of year when we await your coming. That time of year when we remember the God babe that came to earth. I shall pray that you come again to my heart, and break through the crust that seems to have formed about it. You came, you’ll come again, but right now I just need you to come to me. Or maybe what I need is that I’ll be able to feel that you are here.

Jesus, I do not deserve such, but let me sit at your feet, lean my head on your knee, and be. AMEN

Thoughts on Balance

When I begin to teach my first graders about weight, we use a balance. You can put an object, say an eraser, on one side and see how many pennies it weighs by making the two sides balance. Or you can see if you can find another object that will balance with the eraser. Sounds easy, right? It’s harder than you’d think to get the two sides balanced, and we often settle for ‘close enough’. Then there are the kids that like to drop things into the cups on each side of the balance and watch the thing swing back and forth. A light touch definately works best when trying to get both sides balanced.

Just some thoughts I’ve had as I try to find a place of balance in my life. Harder than you think, swinging back and forth, light touch is best…….

Camping in the Land of Should

This time a year ago I was lying in a hospital bed with a very serious case of pneumonia. I’ve written that story before, and have an intense desire NOT to revisit it, which explains why I’ve not been writing of late.

I’m now on my second antibiotic for bronchitis, and have even resorted to using the nebulizer I had used during my illness last year. I admit to having had a real battle with fear in the past week. The pain and vulnerability of that time of serious illness has been right there staring me in the face. I couldn’t seem to stuff it back in the drawer I’d packed it away in along with that nebulizer. I thought I was healthy. I was stronger and healthier this summer than I’d been in years, so why am I not able to fight this off? Why am I going down that all too familiar road of some sort of respiratory dysfunction? What is wrong with me?

When I settled down enough to listen, I got some answers. It seems that I’ve wandered back into ‘the land of SHOULD’ and camped out there for too long.  During the long recovery from that serious illness I put myself first. Not in a selfish way, but rather in a necessary way. When I was tired, I left things undone. I learned to do the necessary first, knowing I may never get to the nice. I ate better than I probably have ever. I was very conscious of the things that caused stress in my life and as often as possible either eliminated those things or just plain decided not to get upset. I took time for my spirit in ways ranging from prayer and meditation to keeping fresh flowers around and reading books that I enjoyed. I said no to things I didn’t want to do, and said no to some things I did want to do but knew would not be in my best interest at the time. I didn’t care what anyone thought I should do. I haven’t been doing some of things at all anymore, and some others not much since school started.  Hummm, maybe this all has something to do with why I was not able to resist those germs flying around my workspace from coughing children; maybe it has something to do with why I’m having such a hard time getting over this bronchitis. Maybe I need to do something about the situation. Yes. More on that later.