An Examined Life

I was at a coffee shop the other day, not quite minding my own business. A man and a woman sat down at the table beside me. Both were in their late 40’s, dressed well, but casual. By their conversation it was obvious this was their first meeting.

There were lots of inquiries about work, family, and their respective lives. What would cause two strangers to find themselves in this situation? Internet dating perhaps?

I couldn’t help myself from being fascinated by their dance. So much was unsaid in their conversation as they tried to figure out, in the 20 minutes they were together, whether or not there was any reason to meet again.

I wondered what their criteria were. Appearance? Humour? Common interest? Romantic feeling? I wondered what they were seeking – Soul mate? Sex? Companion? Maybe just the validation that they could still be attractive and desired by someone else.

It appeared, by the way their meeting ended, that little had come from it, and that they were well practiced enough not to take more time than necessary. Each was one more ‘no’ closer to ‘yes’.

So much time spent seeking. But, even once in relationship there is still the wondering, asking, and divining about ourselves, the relationship, and the future. With circumstances constantly changing – if by no other means than chronology –relationships are also forced to change at the same time.

Those folks meeting over coffee were hard at work. It takes significant intention, risk and effort to find love and create a bond.  However, is it really any different once the love has been discovered and the relationship built?

I have to admit, I am having a hard time with the news of the disaster in Haiti. Even without the earthquake the average Haitian’s existence has been tenuous for years. However, I rarely gave it a thought. I mean, there’s lots of places in the world like that.

Now my inbox fills with CNN Breaking News reports of the hundreds of thousands presumed dead and my Facebook newsfeed has my friends pledging prayer and thoughts and offering suggestions where to give money. Haiti is top of mind. For now.

Since the quake I have been thinking about where to lay blame. God is my first choice – given the source of the disaster. But then there’s the construction of the buildings – rebar is not just a first world luxury. Or what part did oppression play in making the population more vulnerable? In the end though, blame is such a useless exercise.

I watched a Disaster Relief expert, Rahul Singh last night on the news. “the dead are dead, we can’t change that. Our efforts are focused on the survivors”. A pragmatic, logical answer. On the one hand he seemed almost callous, as if he was insensitive to the magnitude of the problem – but on the other – he’s focused on doing what he can that will provide the most benefit – tend to the living.

Those of us sitting these thousands of miles away can do the same thing. We need to triage our appetite for news and reports of the disaster to those that will quickly move us to some kind of action that can provide the most benefit. Find organizations that are already on the ground, that already understand the culture and issues within the country, and equip them with the resources so they can make sure the news stories in coming days are not of rising death tolls, but of rebuilt hospitals, clean water, and a return to some semblance of civility.

So, on the morning of January 1, I, and three of my friends, jumped into the ocean off the beach close to my house.  It was 47 seconds in and out, yet that event has become the guiding metaphor for me this coming year.

My natural inclination is to avoid what is difficult. I don’t face my fears, instead I prefer ducking out the back and hoping they didn’t see me. I do risk, but it’s incredibly well calculated. I always make sure that the net is up before I step onto the high wire – and even then its less than 50/50 I’ll give it a go.

I rarely take on anything if I feel there is a chance I may fail. I was the only one in my own company that didn’t take the Aptitude Test we asked of all our employees – what if I scored low?

I find all that is changing for me. I have much more interest now in taking that Road less Traveled. I want to do what is hard – knowing that there is reward even in the attempt.

Frigid waters aside, I am not talking about scary experiences like bungee jumping or parachuting out of airplanes – I am talking about creating a life where I redefine failure to be my refusal to try in the first place.

So when am I going to risk? Each time I hold back, each time I give a second thought, each time I sense I am going to cut and run, each time I seek the easy route. It’s life un-plagued by what if’s.

It’s not fearless, quite the contrary, I think it’ll mean I am scared shitless at times – but that ‘s still no reason not to dive in.

This coming year is the Year of Living Dangerously. I don’t think I have ever really done it before. My resolution is to live the year (and if it works out, beyond that) being real.

Now, I’ve read the articles on New Year’s resolutions, and the fact that most people set their sights too high, and thus doom themselves to failure. With my choice I may become one such casualty. But, I remain undaunted.

I read a book recently about a group of men in a drug and alcohol rehab centre. In one scene they were sitting around the table talking about how they wound up there. They exchanged stories of prostitutes, drugs, crime, and significant personal loss. What moved me was their open honesty even in the midst of their shame, and the acceptance and understanding of the others at the table. They were being real.

I sat on boxing day with a good old friend and his new husband. Pete was completely open about his ‘gayness’ (his word) and seemed visibly pleased to finally be able to be who he really is. I’d known Pete back when we worked at a summer camp, he was well closeted then, and I am sure felt he was living a lie. It was so great to seem him happy in his relationship, but more so happy within himself.

A friend once said “lying is still lying, even if its to yourself”. I have often hidden from others who I am for fear of rejection, scorn, or loss of status.

So, here we go. I can’t change the past, and I have no idea about the future, but I can make a choice for now, for today, to be real, with myself first, and also those around me.

It’s the day before the day before. The time has past, and is come. Uncertainty and anticipation, anxiety and hope, fear and comfort, all rest together like the lion and the lamb.

Christmas is a reminder of all we have, and all we are missing. It reveals both our abundance, and our scarcity. It’s winter, we are now dependent on our earlier harvest.

The solstice has passed, we are on the other side now. Much like how it feels when we recover or resolve, the change to light is slow coming, almost imperceptible, but inevitable if we give it time.

That is what this Christmas is for me this year, a patient waiting for hope. The Advent story is a beginning, a foreshadow. We mine the story for signs, but it’s not really yet, it is to come.

I am so grateful for the warmth and joy of the season that is a harbinger welcomed in and entertained. Christmas is the rumour, the idea of what can be.

May we all know this anticipation, this beginning, this inevitability of hope.

Happy Christmas

For God’s sake, Matthew, get the door!

All right, all right, stop the racket, I’m coming

Look, I’m sorry but we’re full, nothing. Not sure you’ll find anything at this late hour.

How far along are you?

You shouldn’t be traveling. Sir, you should be taking better care of your young wife.

I wish there was something I can do, but I can’t.

Matthew, who is it? No more exceptions now, we’ve got them sleeping on the floor in here!

It’s a young couple, she looks ready to burst with a child.

My God look at them.

How ‘bout for tonight we just give you somewhere to get out of the weather.

Round back we have a small shed.

It’s for the animals but we sometimes have our boy sleep there.

I’ll have my wife bring some blankets back. You need water?

Sara, i’m not sure how I feel about this.

She may have that baby at any moment.

They seem weary, but not sad.

Walking to the shed behind the Inn, they only think of sleep.

This is not how Joseph ever envisioned their first days together.

Matthew waited for his wife.

How’re they doing?

They’ll get by. It’ll be fine.

Matthew and Sara climbed the stairs to their room, their old bones slowing them down.

I loved those days, when anything seemed possible, Sara said as her head lay on the pillow.

Those young kids will figure it out. Goodnight Matthew.  Goodnight Sara. Dream well.

We got our first Christmas Card in the mail last week. Well, not exactly a ‘Christmas’ card, rather a ‘Seasonal’ card. “Season’s Greetings” it said, and a bunch of signatures of names of people I didn’t even know hurriedly scrawled across the inside. It was from our bank, or insurance company or plumber or something.

I know that the generic greeting at this time of year is to avoid any offence from those that play for another team, but I am thinking it’s not such a bad idea.

I love the seasons, all four of them. My favorite time though is right about now, at the change from one to another. Those first mornings when snow appears on the mountains. The way the passage of time seems to slow to accommodate being inside more, out of the weather. Winter jackets, scarves and toques all become regulars on the coat hooks.

In theory, yah, I’d love to live in a place free of windshield ice scrapers, road salt, and winter tires. In California our friends mark the change in season by deciding not to barbeque for a few months. It’s still as warm as most of our summer days, but that is the winter tradition down there. They have to do something, since most everything else just stays pretty much the same.

I love change. Three months is a good amount of time. Just when you think you’re done –it moves on to the next.

So, I am ok with the Bank’s sentiment – maybe Jill, Carl, Phyllis, and Mi Yeung feel the same way I do. The morning of that first real frost, stepping outside and the nose hairs stick together on a breath in. That’s the moment you know, it’s happened, the dial has clicked one over. Season’s Greetings everyone.

She’s really more a daughter than a cousin. Yet here we are in the same predictament – pregnant by surprise. She too young, and me too old.

Of course I want children, or more to the point – wanted children. Both my husband Zacharias and I are over it though, and had moved on with different plans, or so we thought.

Mary arrived when I was already six months along. She shared her news excitedly, practically singing as she talked in very spiritual terms about what had happened to her. Frankly I would have tossed the explanation out of hand, had it not been for the fact there here I, barren for all these years, was now with child myself. Anything seemed possible.

What about Joseph?, I asked.

…

Mary told me when I was out in the workshop. I stood in silence. She said an angel visited her, and that’s how it happened. She said she’s never slept with anyone, ever. How am I possibly supposed to believe that. I am not sure what makes me more angry – the fact that she had sex with another guy, or that she tried to lie with some stupid story about God being responsible for the situation.

I have everyone telling me to just walk away, find someone else, someone willing to be faithful. But here’s the deal. Yes, I am furious, and hurt more than I thought possible, but I also still love her, and that love really seems stronger than the hurt.

She left soon after for her cousin’s. Just as well I said. I need time.

…

I’m glad to have Mary around. Once past the shock of it all we are now just two expectant mums waiting. Our kids will be six months apart. My sense is they are boys. Imagine the pals they’ll be.

Ok, I gotta get something off my chest here. The Magi - aka: three kings aka:wise men. Who the heck are these guys? Kings? Really? What about those gifts – come on, give me a break! Here baby Jesus, have a little Myrhh – what the…?

It took these guys a year to find the blessed babe in the manger – clearly they got lost trying to follow a star that has a habit of moving about in the old night sky (and how did they navigate by day anyway?).

Oh, and don’t get me started on their conversation with Herod. “hey Herod, listen we had this premonition that the King of the Jews has been born, you have any idea where he might be?” You don’t think that might have triggered the jealousy of the Roman? Slaughter of the Innocents…hello?! These guys really seemed a couple camels short of a herd.

There’s lots of talk among people that talk about such things that maybe the kings never really existed. Through the years of the story being passed down those wise guys were added to give more weight to the importance of Jesus - I guess listeners in the beginning were going ‘yah, but God as a baby, come on, really?” and so, at some point someone went “no wait, so like these really important Kings showed up see, and they brought super expensive gifts, see – THAT’s how important Jesus was!”

I get that. We so want others to believe what we believe we add stuff to make it so. But here’s the thing. The truth doesn’t need us to make it true. It just is. It doesn’t need more words, it doesn’t need to be fancier, louder, quieter, or more beautiful.

Somehow this Advent we’ll have to work through all the stuff people want to hang on the truth to make it seem more so. There’s definitely truth there, it just may not be that obvious.

I think Santa is the best thing that has happened to Christmas. We may be a divided people about our religions and beliefs, but when it comes to St. Nick we are in total agreement. It is imperative that, collectively, we dupe every kid under the age of six.

It really is astounding that even with the majority of us knowing better, the secret remains intact. Even children faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, still find some way to justify his existence.

And why not?

There is really no downside to believing. If you do you get toys, you get a distraction in the mall while shopping for boring stuff with mum, and you get some pretty cool stories and imagery. There is even no shame once you’ve figured it out – it’s not like you were an idiot for thinking he existed, you have now simply grown up.

Santa Claus embodies all that is good. I am not sure why when we are six we stop believing, but it may be that that is when we figure out it’s damn hard to be kind and generous even some of the time so there’s little likelihood someone could be that all the time.

But, maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to give up on the Jolly Red Elf. What if we kept believing there was such a thing as universal generousity? What if there was some reward for being good? How cool would it be to have a person for us adults to visit, in the mall, with whom we could talk to about our hopes and dreams, and then get our picture taken?

Really, give me one good reason why that is not a great idea? Because it isn’t true? Ha, I dare you to ask any five year old, I am sure they will beg to differ.