The Second Day of Christmas

The Second day of Christmas.

I once had an on-line discussion with an atheist arguing the relative merits of atheism vs. (for me) Catholic Christianity. At  the beginning of the session, I had decided to be open-minded. So open-minded, in fact, that I told my atheist friend that if could present a compelling argument for atheism, I would become an atheist.

Sometimes I dreaded his notes. What if he was right? What if my intellect was forced to recognize that atheism presented a stronger case for itself than Christianity? As it turned out, I needn’t have worried, As a result of my interactions with him, I am a stronger Christian and Catholic.

One of the things I most appreciate about Christianity is gratitude. Gratitude is a wonderful gift. It enables me to see each day as a present to be unwrapped, and each new opportunity as an offering from a loving God. It also enables me to see that the “bad” things that come into my life are often ways that God shows me something I need to learn.

Thanksgiving is tough if there is no one to thank. I thank God for life itself. I recognize that many bad things could have happened in my life and didn’t. I also recognize that many of the things that seemed bad at the time were beautiful gifts in ugly wrapping paper.

God has a plan, but it is certainly not my plan. My plan had Marsha and me comfortably retired and hanging out on our boat, inviting our friends to adventures, and in general living the dream life. God has seen fit to show me that my dream life may not be what He has in mind. This has caused some disquiet and downright anxiety, but lately I’ve been finding some peace.

I went through this with a number of things – our initial financial struggles with jobs, kids and debts; our marriage as it turned to harsh partnership and avoidance; the need to explore my inner self as a requirement to present Marriage Encounter weekends; the wrenching realization that I believed if Marsha really knew me, that she would reject me; the fear of being out of control that I wrestled with; the move to Seattle, trying to become part of a new community; yanking ourselves out of that community when it just seemed to be going well; parenthood every which way, rejection by a boss, financial setbacks, a layoff, another move.

What I have learned is simply that if I am willing to detach myself (“let go and let God”), He will take me where I am and show me somewhere else that I can serve and learn. My life has been so much more of an adventure in part because I was willing to let God steer and me to provide pedal power.

 Yesterday was Christmas day, and we went to the Irish house (Lauren’s parents). There was a gift exchange, but Marsha and I did not participate, we are saving that for when Adam gets home, whenever that is. All the same, I felt a profound sense of peace. I was spending a lot of time with Madeleine, the almost-one granddaughter. She was investigating new sights, sounds, tastes, and touches. I had nothing more important to do at that moment than to follow her as she crawled around, keeping her from dangerous investigations.

To have nothing more important to do than simply “be” with another person, even if that person can’t talk, is an extraordinary thing.  When our kids were growing up, even when I was with them my mind was often somewhere else, stressing about something. Simply being is a wonderful thing.

I’m grateful for the gift of grandchildren, and for the opportunity to be with them with no agenda, no rush, no need to do anything but to be there. This is a blessing, and if being so blessed means I give up my “dream life”, then so be it. God always seems to have a better plan than I do. One of these days I’m going to learn to really trust Him.

a different life

Life is different now.  There has never been a time in our marriage, ever, when one or the other of us has not had a job. This is a new adventure for us, and I am watching myself to see how I handle it.

In a sense, I have a job, since I am working on Adam and Lauren’s house. All the same, there is no boss to report to, no personnel to manage, and none of the mental tautness that seemed often to accompany each day – the sense of trying to outrun the avalanche.

Marsha and I talk to each other about what would seem to be next. There must be a next, since we cannot afford to live indefinitely without income. Marsha is pretty sure she is through with executive management. I can’t say I blame her.  She applied to be a barista at Starbucks.

Both of us have worked since we were young teens, at one job or another. Both of us rose eventually to jobs that were executive-type roles. We are grateful for the opportunities that came our way, and the things we were able to be involved in, but overall we are not enamored of what we have seen.

There seems to be something wrong. I have been continually flummoxed by the behavior of many of the people I’ve seen in executive positions, and Marsha shares my bewilderment.

As I think about it, I realize that I have a couple of expectations regarding executive managers that are probably completely unrealistic. One is that they behave as mature adults. The other is that they approach their work with a stewardship mentality, recognizing that the owners of the company (shareholders, perhaps) and the employees have a right to prudence &professionalism from an executive manager.

We keep seeing people put themselves on pedestals, with an apparent desire for power, prestige, position and pay that transcends what seems to us should be a more dignified humility that comes with the recognition of responsibility for people’s livelihoods.

I got to thinking about this attitude, and its origins. There is no question that the concept of stewardship is bound up with our Catholic heritage. The notion that our responsibility for what we do goes beyond ourselves  to all of human society is not uniquely Catholic or even Christian, but it certainly is a mainstay of Catholic teaching.

The desire for power over other people, it seems to me, is a sign of existential emptiness. As we were crafting our marriage seminar, we came to the startling conclusion that there are really only two ways to go: you can have a power and control relationship or you can have a love and affection one. I’ve met people with functional marriages that have a strong power and control component, but I’ve never seen a happy one. As a supervisor, I tried to treat power as a last resort. To me it almost always meant that I’d failed to win over a heart or mind, and while I was willing to use power, I never liked it.  There are people who really like having power over others. My belief is that those people should not operate in what should be leadership roles, as they are very inclined to substitute power for real leadership.

Prestige to me seems like a second-hand way of validating one’s worth. Here again it appears to me that someone who needs prestige is dealing with an existential emptiness. Prestige is fickle, like people, and is an illusory way to establish one’s sense of worth.

It seems odd in a way that my happiness quotient is as high or higher as I paint a cabinet for my son’s house to hide circuit breakers than it was managing a flight school or running a company. I liked those high-pressure jobs, and they certainly paid more money, but a simple task in service to another brings a quieter, more peaceful joy.

I wonder what will be next. Our pastor has our marriage seminar outline for his perusal. I look forward to seeing his comments.

Overall, I feel pretty content and happy. That could change anytime, but I am grateful for it right now.