Over
Thanksgiving we had a wonderful trip. We were invited to Charleston, SC to
visit Calvin's oldest brother and family. We were also joined by Calvin's
parents, his youngest sister, and my mom and one of her boyfriends. It was one
of those trips where everything seemed to go just about as close to perfect as
possible. Smooth rides both ways with kids, a lovely balance of seeing family,
and some private couple time at our hotel. No drama, good food—at times
relaxing, at times stimulating. A pleasant change from the daily routine, and
just the right amount of time that when it was over we felt ready to return home
and get back to our own surroundings. When asked about the trip, I raved about
what a lovely vacation it was.
For spring break
this year we decided to go to my mom's and spend a couple of days there, then head
to South Carolina to visit Calvin's family. This trip, it turns out, was not
like the first. In fact, at times it felt like the complete opposite. It is
funny how sometimes it seems that God gives us these little clues when things
are going to try us and test us just a little bit more than usual. We look back—and
as they say hind sight is 20/20—and see the little clues along the way that say
take heed.
We started out
with thinking my mom would be happy to see her grandkids, a welcome visit. The
first email that discussed our potential itinerary was met with less than
enthusiasm. It seems that it might not even be possible to come visit my mom.
She currently has Victoria, a homeless woman living in "Pierson's"
room, and also had her godson who was waiting for his apartment to be finished
living upstairs. It appeared it might have been a bit too much for a family of
four and two dogs, understandably so. So then Calvin and I discussed going
perhaps just to South Carolina. After the first conversation with his brother
we found out they had plans to possibly go to DC the exact time we proposed to
come down. So we went back to the drawing board. Maybe since DC is just a
couple hours away—and aside from visiting the history museum, we still as a
family have not properly visited the city—this would be a good opportunity.
As it turned
out, the godson decided to get a hotel for a week and the brother's DC trip was
cancelled, so we ended up going back to plan A. but it seems already there were
signs that this was not one of those times where everything would just
seamlessly fall into place. For some reason upon arrival in Raleigh we all
seemed to be particularly tired and grumpy. I found myself struggling with
Victoria's presence. Her strong and not-so-subtle personality was really
working my nerves. I was battling inside my mind. "Let it go, this is all
she has. So what if I sense she really does not want us here and can't wait for
us to leave. Her problem not mine. She does realize this is not actually her
house, right? No, really Victoria, it has never occurred to us, when we have
been blue in the face telling Pierson to chew with his mouth closed for the millionth
time, certainly you are the first person to notice it...." And on and on
they went the endless commentaries, knowing I needed to find peace, and finding
myself at war.
My mom had
planned for our first day there to go to the Lebanese festival that afternoon
and then a French Alliance gathering that night. She mentioned haphazardly the
location in a sort of convoluted way. Mentioning it was where the fete de la musique had been, close to
the convention center, she may have said Fayetteville Street, but it was in
usual fashion mixed in with many other pieces of information, and it all began
to seem a bit fuzzy. Somehow Calvin assumed it was at the convention center
where the International Festival is held. To be honest, I was not that excited
about doing anything that day.
I felt tired and
stressed about the large amount of music I needed to learn and concerts I
needed to finish organizing. I thought we would get to my mom's and completely
relax, have a little less of children to take care of, and a comfortable easy
going surrounding. Now we found ourselves with a busy day, a restless presence
invading our cozy space and to amp it up just a little, Soren screamed the
entire twenty-minute ride to the convention center, where the festival.....was
not. Still screaming and trying to gain clarity as to exactly where we were
going tensions rose. I was starving, and moody. For some reason (to be
clarified shortly) Soren seemed like he had resorted back to infancy the past
few nights and days and was wanting to nurse all the time. Eventually after a few
heated exchanges we made it to the festival. We had some nice food and a decent
enough time, but by the end, after a day in the hot sun, I was spent.
We decided to
decline for the alliance event and take it easy. The next day we decided to go
to a park for a run with the baby while Mimi and Pierson fished. My mom wanted
us to go a way we were not familiar with. Once again, the directions were kind
of half-mumbled as if we already knew where it was. We had no idea. Calvin and
I are trying to figure out what and where she meant, with no help from the back
seat. Then we hear that we passed it. Oh well. I lost it, not just a little, I
mean completely lost it. I think 40 some years of feeling frustrated about poor
communication skills came raging to the surface like a volcano. I think
everyone in the car could not understand why I was so enraged. But my being
exploded, "If you want something, just be clear, no one can understand
what you want, or mean. It is beyond frustrating", and on it went.
The pain of
wanting to understand, wanting to help, and feeling trapped in a cobweb of confusion
and mixed half-messages and thoughts, never fully formed or expressed. Getting
one aspect of the puzzle, while the voice trails off to another vague thought
and then you can't hear at all. "Just a little clarity please, help us get
directly from point a to point b." She says: "Well, I don't
like to give orders". I say: "It's not about orders, you obviously do
want us to go a certain way, to understand something, yet it is near impossible
to figure out with the way it is expressed." It is the pain of wanting to
understand, to help, to do, to give, and feeling trapped, not being able, not
being helped. Willingness met with shut-down. Reaching out met with not being
understood. Why is it so difficult? I am frustrated at the frustration, it
should not be this complicated. Alas it is, and I reject this difficulty and
herein lies the core of the pain.
My voice teacher
once was talking to me about some problem, maybe tension in the jaw or tongue,
or some other pesky inhibitor of beauty and freedom in sound. She said, "We
can take twenty years analyzing to decide it's all your mother's fault, or we
can just say relax the jaw. " So
funny, yet so true.
Just as we
finished up our first lap around the park, the baby began to vomit all over
himself. That little voice inside felt just a little skeptical that he was
being so relaxed in his little stroller, not complaining at all to get out as
we leisurely made our way around. Ahh, yes, now it all makes sense. His stomach
flu with fevers and severe diarrhea lasted a few days, then Calvin's started,
and then Pierson's.
We called the
brother as we were halfway through our vacation now, and planning to head to
SC. We wanted to say, we are still willing to come, but things are not so hot,
and we seem to have a highly contagious stomach flu on our hands. The response was
“please come if you are able, we were so looking forward to the visit.” So, we
did.
We arrived at
our "stay to hotel" whenever we are in Charleston. We love it because
they have a wonderful breakfast buffet where you can sit leisurely and have anything
you could imagine. We got to the hotel that evening and noticed the breakfast
area all boarded up, plywood covered. The hotel was in total make-over mode. No
breakfast buffet, but there would be one little truck out back after you walk
through the war zone, I mean construction zone, where you have the choice of an
egg sandwich, bacon and sausage and eggs, or a yogurt parfait. The portions are
minuscule and the quality lame. Calvin logs on to his computer to start work
the next AM just as the drilling starts next door. For once Soren slept past 6,
but Pierson wakes up screaming with stomach pains at 6:30. "Shhhh, you
will wake up the baby". "It hurts AHHHHH!" "SHHHH, waaaaa,
never mind baby is up.”
I need to get
out, maybe I will go to the pool, it's a beautiful, sunny day. I set up my
towel and books on the table next to me just as the construction truck pulls up
to the dumpster beside the pool—Beep,
Beep, Beep. Crashing boards, and fake marble bathroom fall to the bottom
of the giant metal dumpster. I am done. Again, more done, though I thought it
not possible. I go to a nearby trail, I put my iPod on and begin to run. The
sun is shining on me, warming my being. The nature is beautiful, the air is
fresh. I feel good, calm, happy for the first time in a few days. Then it hits
me again. "Learning to not dislike the suffering". I have been
fighting the suffering, I have been a warrior in battle, and I am losing. God
is speaking to me. The beauty of his creation and endorphins are illuminating
the truth. I feel rejuvenated, ok, with it all. I head back to the hotel. I
look down as I enter the construction zone, my iPod is dead. I laugh, of
course. It is dead, of course. “The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away;
blessed be the name of the LORD.” (Job 1:21)
Sometimes when
examining the deep questions of life, spirit, existence we come to a point of clarity,
the ever-famous ah ha moment in psychotherapy.
We think we have got it. In a way, we have, our mind has opened a new portal,
and a beam of light can shine through and illuminate that nook of darkness. But
then there is a second aspect to those moments, or so I have found. Where God
speaks to us and says, "OK, now you get it, time to be it." Time not
only to understand in that nook but exercise that understanding through the fullness
of your being.
You have
analyzed and understood how to swim, you even swam a few laps in the pool, time
to move to the ocean. I am now more fully and consciously embracing the idea of
not disliking the suffering. This Easter our family photo was not one of bonnets
and ties, spring colors and flowers, but rather four tuckered out tired people
in my mom's cozy and welcoming bed. It's funny how now I think back on that
picture with a certain fondness. It represents so much more than just how ill
we all had felt. It represents spirit in action.
It represents
cherishing even more all the in between moments on that trip. Those moments
that despite all the hardships, there was still beauty, kindness, sharing and
communion. Somehow, those moments feel just a little bit sweeter than usual.
Upon return to
Raleigh we found out Victoria has caught the stomach bug too. I feel compassion,
it feels good to feel compassion. That compassion that felt so hidden and lost
just a few days prior. The good and the truth seem to be amplified now, the
hardships have done their good work. He is risen indeed!
