Yes, folks, it's time for my annual Thanksgiving blog post. Try to contain your excitement, because this isn't going to be my usual Christian cheerleader message.
Don't get me wrong...in watching the sunrise this morning, and in contemplating what to say in this post, I remain convicted in my faith. I believe there is a benevolent Creator of the universe that I call the one true God who loves every hair on my head, who created the oceans and my breakfast. I believe the mystery of salvation through Jesus - I don't pretend to understand it, but empirical evidence and my own spiritual experience supports it enough for me.
I love him, and he loves me. I know that to be true. I know that a converted Jew from Tarsus who once hated Christians said that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, that I'm to be patient in affliction and that all things work for the good of those who love him.
I know that Jesus' brother James said that I'm to consider it pure joy when I suffer trials because the testing of my faith produces perseverance, and that I'm to let perseverance finish its work in me so that I can be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
Well, I'm not joyful or patient these days. I'm sorry to be a buzz kill, but I'm just not. And I can't muster up the energy to fake it - believe me, I've tried.
Here we are on the morning of Thanksgiving Eve, and all I can think about is being angry. I know, I know, I have so much to be grateful for, and I'm an ungrateful wretch for dismissing the hundreds of daily blessings and focusing primarily on the handful of trials. If I was really a "good Christian", I would quit my bellyaching and stop feeling so angry and pitiful.
In re-reading recent Babble and Caring Bridge posts, I see myself wrestling with this notion of "good" vs. "bad" behavior. Everything is so black and white! If I'll just be thankful, and do my daily study and meditation, then I will get rewarded for being a good Christian. But if I give God the finger, do my own thing and ignore what He's got to say, then I'm an idiot who deserves every second of the pain I'm feeling. And it's been my experience that even when I am faithful in study and prayer, the shit hits the fan anyway.
How much, Lord, and how long? When I look around, it seems like I've gotten more pain than my fair share in the last 50 years. Yeah, yeah, I know the part about not judging my insides by other people's outsides, and everybody's got their own drama to survive, and of course I know that there are millions of people in the world who don't have what I have - materially, spiritually or otherwise.
And yet I am watching my husband s-l-o-w-l-y deteriorate right before my eyes, every minute of every day. A heart attack, a couple of toe amputations, now kidney failure and it appears that blindness is not far down the road - all from diabetes. Giant scary bruises where he's punctured six times a week for dialysis. Teenage children in emotional pain that they don't understand and I can't relieve. A church that is struggling desperately to recover from a tragic schism, and a job that I am terrified of losing. A cluttered house that I don't feel like cleaning because I'm tired and depressed, a bad chest cold as I write this, an unwelcome return of thirty pounds and a half-constructed Christmas tree that I don't feel like finishing because the memories tied to each ornament hurt my heart.
I know I should be thankful, and most of the time, I am - for my husband and children, the church, the job, the house, my body, the food and the Christmas tree ornaments. For a half-century's worth of a good and deeply-lived life.
I know I should be thankful. I know that. The part that makes me angry is that most of it isn't the way I scripted it, and while I'm intellectually aware that I am not actually the author of my life, I am still mad about it.
This should be the part where I see the error of my thinking today and promise myself to "do better" about gratitude because that's what a strong, healthy believer would do. Sorry. Not happening, at least not today. If there's one thing I've learned about myself, it's that I will actively and intentionally choose misery and self-pity until I'm bored with it.
The whole damn country is going to stuff itself silly tomorrow in "thankfulness" for bountiful blessings. I am going to stuff myself silly because that's what I do when I hurt - gratitude has nothing to do with it.
Waffling about actually hitting "submit" on this one, because it's full of vomit instead of joyful sunshine... but it's real and honest about where I am this Thanksgiving. Sue me.
3 comments:
This isn't vomit. This is raw, beautifully expressed pain. Thank you for sharing it with us. I am no expert on this but I believe Shakespeare once said, "Manure Occurreth". It's okay to be angry with the manure. It's even okay to eat pie. Preferably not around the manure. Hang in there.
Lisa said it perfectly. Life is not always Pollyanna-like. As a matter of fact, most days are not. I know from experience that it is v-e-r-y hard to watch someone deteriorate each day. It's okay to scream, it's okay to cry, it's okay to have days where you cry out, "Why me, God!" I am always desperately concerned for folks that cannot cry out to God because they do not know Him. You are in good hands. Hey, call a cleaning service once a month.....visit a family/grief counselor regularly.......and know that people care, truly care.
Prayers my baby. I think about you EVERY day.
I would give everything I have to fix this.
I LOVE YOU.
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