In a 2007 interview, Garrison Keillor said that “gloom and self-absorption are for teenagers. Once you pass a certain point—and I passed it a long time ago—you’re supposed to be cheerful.” Asked if he was a cheerful person, he replied, “Yes, I am, but I have to work at it. I come from dark people, people who were always expecting disaster.”
If you had asked me 6 months ago, if I was a person subject to vagaries, which I define also as being at the mercy of the whims of my emotions and thoughts, as well as life circumstances, I would've replied, "Sometimes".
Watch over me, God, for it is in you I have taken refuge.
In the past I said: "You are my Creator,
but you do not look out for my good."
I realize now that my answer would have been "All the time" if I had been aware of it.
Their sadness multiplies, all who rush after futility,
those who chase after empty gods...
When things are good, even mostly good, or even so-so, it can be oh so easy to allow our circumstances to define us and not be aware that we're doing it, because our lives are relatively stable. Even when I was in the dumps after each "no-thank-you" from an interview, I figured it was within reason that I hit the skids. After all, who wouldn't? It's normal, right?
Of course. Normal is a wide, broad spectrum. Lots of room for all of us there. To me, normal can be hard to nail down. Like jello. To me, normal is just another word for human. And there are as many ways to be human as there are, well, human beings. We're all just trying to figure it out: being alive on this planet tumbling through the universe with no apparent purpose or meaning. So what do we do? We make meaning, we make purpose.
And so we have a choice. Now I've known this for a long time. But there times when you know something and others when you KNOW it, down to your bones, smack upside your forehead. I am now in a totally new place: new people, new work, new digs. I guess I shouldn't be surprised--I moved to NEWARK, after all. (Hey, it was there and one of you was thinking it—don't tell me otherwise.)
God is the measure of my portion and my cup.
You uphold my destiny.
In this very new situation I realized that I have to remain vigilant about my attitude and emotions, that I cannot allow my circumstances to define my reality for me. It would be very easy to slip into sadness and despair: my husband and daughters are still in Connecticut, everything is unfamiliar, sometimes I get lost, and I am too much alone at times. This is why we pray "Lead us not into temptation". It doesn't have to be big--it's really rather sneaky. But then I remind myself (okay, it was really God) that I asked for this, exactly this, and now I am living it. I knew the costs going in. I told myself I could handle it, that I would enjoy this little 'mommy sabbatical': cooking for one, hell, not even cooking most days, taking care of only me, remembering what it was like when I was single.
Blessings have fallen upon me in pleasant meadows,
wonders and beauty have been my inheritance.
I will praise God, who has given me good counsel.
And then I remembered: though I didn't mind being alone at times, I really didn't like being single. I wanted to be married and have children; it was a calling I wanted to fulfill. So now I'm seeing the flipside of the last 16 years, when I couldn't fully participate in my calling to ministry; now I'm missing my call to be a life partner and mother in the flesh.
Even when my fears torment me at night,
I will keep the Eternal always before my eyes.
For when you are at my right arm,
I do not stumble.
I miss hugging and kissing my daughters, and that other holy touch shared between two people who love each other. And so I'm learning to feel those feelings, allow them to fill me like the vessel I am but then to let them pass and feel something else. Like hope and joy and peace and contentment and wonder. Now I'm making room for curiosity, possibilities, and the wonderful hospitality of the folks of Delaware.
My heart leaps up,
the place of my innermost glory rejoices.
Even my flesh rests secure.
For you won't abandon my life to the underworld;
the Holy One will not relinquish the kindhearted
to witness destruction.
Other people wiser than me have said that we spend the first half of our lives figuring out how we want to live; we spend the second half actually living. And though it may seem like we're spinning our wheels, that we could've started sooner like that person over there, it really is important to think it through, to feel all the feelings, make mistakes, forgive ourselves (and a few other people), and move on. Because it's OUR one precious life and no one else's. And so far, I don't regret a thing. Not even spinning my wheels. They got me here, right here.
Make known to me the pathway of life
until I overflow with joy at your presence,
the lasting contentment that comes from your right hand.**
**Verses from Psalm 16, The Complete Psalms: The Book of Prayer Songs in a New Translation, by Pamela Greenberg, New York: Bloomsbury, 2010.
