Day 19: When We Know Better, We Can Do Better

One of the lost traditions of my childhood and early adulthood was time spent with my grandparents. As newlyweds, Pete and I loved visiting my grandparents in Durham, NC. These were not the same kind of visits that I remembered as a child – filled with fun times and lots of good, home cooked meals. Sadly, my grandfather developed dementia.

Pete never saw my Papa at his fast moving, quick witted, mechanically minded, athletically inclined self. Care for my grandfather wore my grandmother out. Naturally, when my grandmother knew we were coming, she was relieved to think that we could help her with some of the chores that her frail body couldn’t handle. When we arrived, she would greet us with a hug…and a list. This list was comprehensive, usually composed in order of priority – in early December, we knew that the list would include holiday decorating, gift buying and more.

As a young woman, I hated the list. I felt a shift in the relationship. I intuited that when my grandmother looked at me, she saw an elf, not her first born (and only) granddaughter. I grieved the loss of the lazy, hazy days of summer when I came to her looking for respite and care. I feared the decline of both of these vibrant, loving people. It was hard to admit to myself that I was sad. It was easier to get mad about the ding dang list.

Recently, I came across a quote from David Benner’s book Sacred Companions that helped me put some vocabulary to my experiences back then.

“In dialogue I meet you as a person, not an object. When we treat others as objects, even for benevolent reasons, we rob them of their humanity.”

Sacred Companions, David Benner, p.55

When I see my Mama in heaven, I look forward to asking her what she was really thinking way back then. I wish that I could have handled the situation differently at the time. Instead of building up resentments, I could have talked this through with my grandmother, or a sacred companion. Maybe a friend could have pointed out what I should have seen all along – it was never about the list - it was about coming to grips with loss.

As you move into the holiday season, do you have any relationships that are in an awkward transition? If so, rather than keeping your own counsel, might I suggest that you talk to someone whom you respect about what you are thinking? Best yet, if you can do so without doing harm, maybe you could risk revealing a bit more of yourself, and talking with the person you feel awkward around, to see if you can resolve an issue or two. (Certainly, any of us having this kind of conversation would get wise counsel, and make sure we are communicating carefully, so as to avoid doing our own “objectification” – but talking stuff through before a stressful time of pressured holiday interactions can avoid needless harming and future needs for amends making!)

When we know better, we can do better. If there was ever a year when we could try our best to do a tiny bit better, this is that year! People need us to try!

Day 19: When We Know Better, We Can Do Better

One of the lost traditions of my childhood and early adulthood was time spent with my grandparents. As newlyweds, Pete and I loved visiting my grandparents in Durham, NC. These were not the same kind of visits that I remembered as a child – filled with fun times and lots of good, home cooked meals. Sadly, my grandfather developed dementia.

Pete never saw my Papa at his fast moving, quick witted, mechanically minded, athletically inclined self. Care for my grandfather wore my grandmother out. Naturally, when my grandmother knew we were coming, she was relieved to think that we could help her with some of the chores that her frail body couldn’t handle. When we arrived, she would greet us with a hug…and a list. This list was comprehensive, usually composed in order of priority – in early December, we knew that the list would include holiday decorating, gift buying and more.

As a young woman, I hated the list. I felt a shift in the relationship. I intuited that when my grandmother looked at me, she saw an elf, not her first born (and only) granddaughter. I grieved the loss of the lazy, hazy days of summer when I came to her looking for respite and care. I feared the decline of both of these vibrant, loving people. It was hard to admit to myself that I was sad. It was easier to get mad about the ding dang list.

Recently, I came across a quote from David Benner’s book Sacred Companions that helped me put some vocabulary to my experiences back then.

“In dialogue I meet you as a person, not an object. When we treat others as objects, even for benevolent reasons, we rob them of their humanity.”

Sacred Companions, David Benner, p.55

When I see my Mama in heaven, I look forward to asking her what she was really thinking way back then. I wish that I could have handled the situation differently at the time. Instead of building up resentments, I could have talked this through with my grandmother, or a sacred companion. Maybe a friend could have pointed out what I should have seen all along – it was never about the list - it was about coming to grips with loss.

As you move into the holiday season, do you have any relationships that are in an awkward transition? If so, rather than keeping your own counsel, might I suggest that you talk to someone whom you respect about what you are thinking? Best yet, if you can do so without doing harm, maybe you could risk revealing a bit more of yourself, and talking with the person you feel awkward around, to see if you can resolve an issue or two. (Certainly, any of us having this kind of conversation would get wise counsel, and make sure we are communicating carefully, so as to avoid doing our own “objectification” – but talking stuff through before a stressful time of pressured holiday interactions can avoid needless harming and future needs for amends making!)

When we know better, we can do better. If there was ever a year when we could try our best to do a tiny bit better, this is that year! People need us to try!

Day 21: Finding Joy in the Moment

Traditions often serve as sticky notes for our memories. One of my favorite traditions is when my friend Jean and I have our annual “cookie day”. Each year, early in December, we bake enough cookies to feed an army.

No one applauds our efforts. In fact, I can tell you that all our children (and both husbands) do not squeal with glee over all the cookies. These guys have the nerve to express preferences. Michael loves the cranberry with white chocolate. Scott grooves on the peanut butter topped with a chocolate kiss. Meredith and Carrie enjoy our efforts at healthy cooking – swearing that the ones with no sugar added, lots of zucchini and bananas are truly the best (which proves that our girls have interesting palates). All feel free to wonder aloud at some of our choices that they do not hesitate to give a thumbs down vote.

But here’s the secret to our success….we do not feel responsible for garnering the undying appreciation and unfettered approval of our families. We have a decades’ long tradition of cookie day…because it brings us joy! Every year brings a different kind of cookie day experience. A few years ago – a particularly difficult year of great loss – we cooked and cried. One year, we collectively celebrated a new baby in the clan and some marvelous spiritual breakthroughs. We felt festive, mostly. This year? We have not calendared it yet. We may be zooming our way through cookie day. Disappointing? Sure. But it will be one more memory Jean and I create and stuff in our memory chest of our shared life.

I suspect that many of us will adjust or even need to forego some of our long held traditions this year - if we are wise and do not want to create a super spreader event! Some of us will plow ahead and do exactly what we have always done and many who make this choice will be fine. But no matter where we end up in our decision making process, I pray that we will find joy. Joy in the moment. Acceptance of what is today, and hope for tomorrow.

We survive our crying Christmases by remembering the ones where we laughed with delight. Our joyous festivities are gratitude-filled when we remember the years when we brought our sorrow to the family gathering. This is how life works. Don’t give up on tradition - even if you have to find a work around!!

Day 21: Finding Joy in the Moment

Traditions often serve as sticky notes for our memories. One of my favorite traditions is when my friend Jean and I have our annual “cookie day”. Each year, early in December, we bake enough cookies to feed an army.

No one applauds our efforts. In fact, I can tell you that all our children (and both husbands) do not squeal with glee over all the cookies. These guys have the nerve to express preferences. Michael loves the cranberry with white chocolate. Scott grooves on the peanut butter topped with a chocolate kiss. Meredith and Carrie enjoy our efforts at healthy cooking – swearing that the ones with no sugar added, lots of zucchini and bananas are truly the best (which proves that our girls have interesting palates). All feel free to wonder aloud at some of our choices that they do not hesitate to give a thumbs down vote.

But here’s the secret to our success….we do not feel responsible for garnering the undying appreciation and unfettered approval of our families. We have a decades’ long tradition of cookie day…because it brings us joy! Every year brings a different kind of cookie day experience. A few years ago – a particularly difficult year of great loss – we cooked and cried. One year, we collectively celebrated a new baby in the clan and some marvelous spiritual breakthroughs. We felt festive, mostly. This year? We have not calendared it yet. We may be zooming our way through cookie day. Disappointing? Sure. But it will be one more memory Jean and I create and stuff in our memory chest of our shared life.

I suspect that many of us will adjust or even need to forego some of our long held traditions this year - if we are wise and do not want to create a super spreader event! Some of us will plow ahead and do exactly what we have always done and many who make this choice will be fine. But no matter where we end up in our decision making process, I pray that we will find joy. Joy in the moment. Acceptance of what is today, and hope for tomorrow.

We survive our crying Christmases by remembering the ones where we laughed with delight. Our joyous festivities are gratitude-filled when we remember the years when we brought our sorrow to the family gathering. This is how life works. Don’t give up on tradition - even if you have to find a work around!!

Day 23: The Realities of God's Love

We continue on our 40 day sprint toward the celebration of the birth of Christ. Holding to long standing traditions, this time offers us the challenge of self-reflection. It’s a way to prepare for the party. One way that helps us do so is to practice various spiritual disciplines intended to increase our self-awareness. In particular, we maintain mindfulness about God’s steady disposition and inclination of love toward us. Otherwise, we will struggle to make some progress in the journey of transformation. Adam and Eve forgot this about God and ended up hiding behind fig leaves. This is not a good look. We must be prepared to wrestle with the reality of God’s love. Our own ambivalence about ourselves can sometimes cause us to project these harsh self-judgments onto God. This does NOT promote transformational work. Unlike Santa, God doesn’t just love us only when we’re nice. He loves us when we’re naughty too. Jesus loves the whole of us.

We wrestle long and hard in our community with what it means to live a holy life. Once in a while, someone will start thinking that holiness means that we should all strive to be SuperHuman – capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound – for the sake of Christ, of course. When that happens, fingers start wagging.

One Sunday when we were still gathering in person, someone fell asleep in church. This offended his accountability team, and they got up in his face, demanding that he make restitution for falling asleep in church. His behavior, according to his cohorts, made the whole team look bad. I won’t go into all the details, but let’s just say that the good news is, all this piety did not lead to any punches being thrown…a near miss.

No one asked me to weigh in on the subject, but if they had, this is what I would have said. “You know what? He was here. He wasn’t on the streets. He wasn’t in a crack house. He was sitting in church, with a group of people who have nodded off in odd places countless times. That’s what happens when people are homeless and go days without food (and use a lot of crack). He was here, in the community. He showed up. That’s a good day.”

I’m much more impressed that he showed up than concerned about whether he stayed awake. I don’t consider falling asleep in church offensive. I tend to think it is a natural response for a guy who has been fed a good meal, is sitting in a heat-filled room surrounded by folks that he is pretty confident aren’t going to beat him up or steal from him. We are privileged and yes, responsible to love the whole self of others, not just the ones who can stay awake through the sermon!