“The first generation out of slavery invented jazz music. It is a music birthed out of freedom. And that is the closest thing I know to Christian spirituality. A music birthed out of freedom. Everybody sings their song the way they feel it, everybody closes their eyes and lifts up their hands.� -Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz
This post on transience brought to mind an image of Peter grinning, with one arm around Einstein and the other around his teddy bear’s neck. Why, you may ask? Because I spent time impressing that moment into my memory. My first thought was indeed to grab a camera. But that would have meant getting up, and Peter and Einstein would have both followed me. Even if there were some slight chance of retrieving the camera and coming back to find them in the same position then Peter would have plastered on a fake smile and it wouldn’t have been the picture I wanted. So I watched. But as I watched, I tried to capture this transient moment in my mind. I probably followed my usual habit of trying to put words to it. What words could capture this moment? What words would make a stranger see what I saw while watching Peter with his favorite bear and his favorite dog? Why are so many little things I enjoy so hard to share? Where’s the difference between a writer who can’t stop writing and a rebel who will not lose this moment even after it ends?
I don’t like thank-you notes. Or is it more like I despise thank-you notes? Whichever I generally avoid receiving them and I do not give them. I can see a time when thank-you notes meant something, but now they seem to be based upon the assumption that nothing in life is free. If you give me something it is not enough that I say ‘thank-you’ right then, but I have to give you something in return even if it’s only a note saying thank-you when I already said thank-you. There comes a point when now this is just piece of paper to salve my conscience. And I don’t like those sorts of obligations. There is a woman who gives us thank-you notes and we experiment with different ways to get them back to her unopened. Seth has actually thrown one at her and hit her with it. We’ll drop it into her bag or give it to her husband or whatever we have to because we did something for her that was free. She doesn’t have to give us anything in return. I don’t know if the message has sunk in yet, but we’re working on it. Now, something else to take into consideration when it comes to thank-you notes is when are you expected to give large quantities of thank-you notes? That’s right- wedding and baby showers. When do you have the least time to be thinking about thank-you notes? Correct- right after you get married and right after a baby’s been born. Why is it that our culture puts so much obligation on someone right when they need to be thinking about something else like figuring out this marriage thing or learning how to be a parent. This is not the time to be writing and addressing thank-you notes. I received a thank-you note just yesterday. It was from Theresa thanking me for my help in throwing her party and for the gift I gave her. She gave it to me and said, “I heard you might be kind of belligerent about this” so I decided not to be. I took the note and read it and it was lovely. What was even lovelier was that I knew there was no hint of pure obligation behind this note. She wanted to express in writing her appreciation and that’s fine with me. When I get married and start having children I am going to have to give thank-you notes. I don’t like the idea and I wish there was some way I could start preparing for it now, but other than buying stamps I don’t see how I could. I am going to give out thank-you notes because I would love to scrap this tradition, but the people who still hold to it really hold to it. I would like to change the world, but I’d rather not needlessly offend people on the way. Too bad, really. That’s a whole heap of work I could have avoided.
You must understand we do not actually admit to saying any of these things. Perhaps we were misheard. Certainly we were taken out of context. But you have to admit it’s much funnier that way.
“Well, if you’re not there than I’m not going to talk to you anymore.”
“You try not to get into situations where your clothes come off.”
“But the world is not perfect, and sometimes you have to reach for the plastic pants.”
Everyone has a mental jigsaw puzzle of how the world works. Some people leave most of the pieces in the box and pull them out at random when they want them. Other people work very hard to see how all the pieces fit together. Sometimes one person will get rid of his puzzle and start a new one. This happens (or should happen) when a he becomes a Christian. He might realize that some of the pieces he had fit in the new puzzle. That’s not because his old puzzle is the same, but because those pieces never really fit in his old puzzle. Or he might save a part of the old puzzle for a long time before he realizes that it doesn’t fit anymore. Christians share certain key pieces to the puzzle but the rest of the puzzle can look very different from person to person. Some people grow up with a college shaped space in their puzzle. Nothing else could possibly fit there. My puzzle has a place where college could go, but it would be a poor fit. There are many puzzle pieces that go in that place, with many choices available. I tug on the sleeves of my neighbors to show them. “Look,” I say, “look at this beautiful picture you can make without college.” They look at their puzzles and shake their heads. They say, “No, if I take out college all I see is a nasty hole.” I look at my puzzle. There’s no hole when you leave out college, because there’s something else to put there. I try to show them but they shake their heads again. “No,” they say, “Look at my puzzle. See, college is the only thing that fits here.” And I stare at my puzzle in silent frustration.
At last, the marathon of birthdays is over and there are no more surprises to keep. We gave Seth his book. We gave Theresa her presents and successfully surprised her with a party on Saturday. We gave James his birthday presents this morning. I am free to write blog posts on whatever I’m doing without having to hold back details. I no longer have to consider how to make Theresa believe that Gabrielle and I really wanted to take nine children to the park by ourselves. (This ploy failed. I had to wait until after James and Theresa were out of the house on a date before I scrambled around getting shoes on children and shooing them out the door.) I don’t have to tense up when the children open their mouths lest some hidden bit of information be revealed. I don’t have to sneak around at the thrift store trying to buy spoons without Theresa noticing. I can divulge my amusement that James’ present to Theresa and the children’s present to James were hidden next to each other on my shelf. (Great minds…) It’s safe to write; I have no more secrets to keep. Now if I could just think of something to write about…
No, no, not two saris. It’s warm enough just wearing one; can you imagine wearing twelve yards of cloth all at once? What I mean is I’m going to try again. Yesterday I tried wrapped clothing (the term sari is really too specific) and kept thinking up ways to make it better. It was staying okay, but it was just drooping a little and surely I could fix that without too much trouble…and I’d end up re-wrapping the whole thing until I got fed up with it. But today I wear my six yards of cloth as something that looks a bit like pantaloons–Theresa says it looks like the longyi worn in Burma–and I will not adjust it except in case of emergency. I like the idea of wrapped clothing and I will enjoy wearing it. I refuse to contemplate otherwise. Did I mention that it’s very comfortable?
I have been thinking about childlikeness and wonder lately and I was having the hardest time putting anything into words. Providentially, someone else did it for me. But I’ve still been thinking about simplicity. I have been finding more and more that the scope of things that I get excited about has been shrinking. Or maybe it’s been growing. One of the arguments I hear most often against a woman pursuing the career of homemaker is that it wouldn’t be fulfilling. I look at this argument and I look at my life and I wonder what could be more fulfilling for a woman? But then I look at what about this calling that I find fulfilling and I have to step back and see that it is simple. I find the most fulfillment in the simple things. Noah managed to stab his banana with his fork and everyone at the table praised him. When he got it in his mouth all conversation stopped and there was some applause. I almost felt like crying. This was a huge accomplishment for him. He has been trying to use his fork for weeks now and he finally did it. I was thrilled. But most people look at that and say that it was a little thing. I argue back that life is made up of little things. Think about a fond memory. It is probably something quiet, something small. Sitting and reading a book on a stormy day. Talking with someone you love. Taking a walk with your child and listening to the chatter about the flowers. In the grand scheme of things these are small moments. But they are the ones I hold onto and that I would point to as happy memories. Our culture has programed us to look down on simple things. We are told that we can be anything we want to be, though they push us to be something big and mock if we want to be something simple. The lie is that bigger is better. We stomach this lie without thought and we live lives that are wonderless. We look for fulfillment in the big things, but a life that is only full of bigs things is exhuasting. I have been to big events before and they can be fun. But it was too big for me to remember the whole thing. The bits that I remember most are simple. And if life is only full of big things than it takes bigger and bigger things to keep you satisfied. If life is full of simple things than it is easier and easier to take joy in the simple wonders of God. God made the oceans and they are glorious, but he also made the creek I grew up near. I’ve been to the Atlantic four times and it was a lot of fun, but this creek runs through all of my childhood memories. If I was given the choice to either sail on the ocean or follow this creek out to the lake I might pick the creek. The ocean is too big to hold, but the creek is mine. It is my simple thing. We need to enjoy simpicity. I have seen people who have never learned to take joy in the small things and sometimes it takes an incredible amount to get them excited about anything. I know people who take joy in small things and they are magical to talk to. I was talking to a woman about folding laundry. She said that she has started to really enjoy folding laundry and I was excited about this because I enjoy it too and I felt really weird about that. She started talking about folding laundry and it was no longer a menial task that one stoops to do. It was beautiful. I am learning to find joy in simplicity. A child will come up and hug me and I have to stop and remind myself to enjoy this moment. I hug the child back and whisper in his ear “I love you.” He, well, she usually, gives me a great big smile and runs off to do something else. Noah says ‘thank you’ or Isaac builds a monster. Samuel climbs a pole all the way to the top and I don’t have a heart attack. These are moment to be gloried in. These are the moments I will remember. And if you don’t take joy in these moments you will never find fulfillment in your life if you work outside the home or in. Life is in the simple things.
Last winter I decided to give up on coats. I kept my denim jacket and a heavy winter coat, but I didn’t wear them much. Instead I wore a cross between a cloak, a cape, and a shawl. I later discovered that it was called a stole, but it was too late. We’d already termed it ‘a drapey thing’ and the name stuck. If I wear a coat on occasion this does not change that I am the sort of person who wears drapey things. I have now discovered the ultimate drapey article of clothing: the sari. With a mere six yards of cloth I can fashion a dress, a pair of pants, or (the result of an experiment this morning) a pair of pants under a skirt. I’m also pretty sure I can drape it as a blouse, though I haven’t tried yet. I think I’m going to like saris…
Oof, it has been quite a week. In fact, it has been quite a couple of weeks. Yes, I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that just tells you what kind of week it’s been. I am usually a paragon of making senseness. But not so today because I have had quite a couple of weeks.
First, we threw a birthday party for Seth that was a whole heap of work. The theme was a surprise and involved two large cardboard walls, costumes and oodles and oodles of food. At this party I spilled two kinds of fruit juices on myself and some chicken juice.
Then we helped James throw a surprise birthday party for Theresa which was also a lot of fun and a lot of work. At this party I am pleased to report I spilled nothing on myself even though we had barbeque ribs.
And then there is just normal life to get through in which I tend spill food on myself. And we are starting to get ready for the baptismal feast that we are throwing after the baby’s born where I am hoping I won’t spill anything on myself.
I am exhausted. And it’s only 10:05 in the morning. This day does not look good.
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