Whenever I would walk into my grandmother's house, I felt welcome and valued. She would stop whatever she was doing and make me the focus of her attention. Then, she did those little things that made me cared for. She was retired when I was born, and had the extra time that most people don't have. She had gray hair, and the best hugs.
I've found myself a bit worn down lately. I had been doing a better job of taking care of myself, but that has gotten pushed aside with sick kids and responsibilities. I left the house last night under the pretense that I needed to deposit a check and sell some used books. I found myself dreading going home because I needed my own respite from being the one taking care of everyone else. It then hit me: I know a gray haired lady who is always glad to see me.
So, I left the book store and made a surprise visit to the woman my children refer to as their great-great-great grandma. I don't see her very much since we changed churches, and I realized how much I missed her. So I got to sit in her rocking chair and swap stories for a little while. Her perspective on things was greatly appreciated. Her kindness was even more appreciated.
So, the lesson for me is that there is always someone around to fill a role. Sometimes, you have to look a little ways. Sometimes, it will find you. Either way, we are all here to be a part of each other's lives. I hope I don't wait so long to go visit my gray haired friend next time.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Fully Human
A long time ago, I was sitting in church listening to the readings. I had an Epiphany of sorts. It is something I have based much of my 'religious' thoughts on. Jesus is considered to be fully human, fully divine. His teachings are geared, however, towards teaching us how to be fully human. He tells us to love one another. This, of course, is a divine calling. However, it teaches us how to get along.
I heard a Priest joke one time about his role. He said that because he stands at the altar, children sometimes ask him if he is God. His response is "I don't correct them."
I think the flip side of this is also very true. We want others to be god. We want doctors to be completely right, all of the time. We want clergy to provide Divine guidance. I heard a story of a rector who started showing his displeasure at how the vestry was treating him. He tried to say, "Wait a minute, that isn't fair." In response, the Senior Warden replied "We don't want to know that you bleed." We set up others in some sort of twisted humanity. One that entitles people to say and do whatever they want.
I think that many people love this role of being seen as God or a god. People want to be bullet proof and perfect. Doctors are notorious for this. Unfortunately, getting stuck into this sort of distorted role, you loose the ability to be human
Being human means that you make mistakes, you grow and most importantly: you suffer. Christ shares his suffering with us as he wept in the Garden. He knows what it is like to suffer physically, to watch his mother suffer. He shares with us His anguish on the cross. I think this is what he really came to teach us.
Walking around performing miracles, teaching, telling parables are all the easy part. Standing up before a crowd and being admired and worshipped is rewarding. Strutting around your job, church or a hospital is forgetting your own fallible nature. Letting others see your pain is excruciating. Inviting others to know you in a vulnerable way can be dangerous. Confessing your mistakes is difficult. Although there is great suffering in being human, there is much joy. It frees you from the confines of playing perfect and lets you join others in being human. It gives you others to suffer with you, and to celebrate with you.
I've found myself in groups where humanity is not allowed. I've watched people turn their back on me because of a mistake. Worse than that, I've watch them shun me because they didn't want to admit their own mistakes. This has happened more than I care to think about. It has left me doing my best to be seen as perfect, not wanting to be questioned. I don't want to be placed in the position of having to prove myself, again.
Yet, I've realized that this is not fair to my children (or even to myself). They are getting to see that I am human. I make mistakes. Period. I always try to fix them, but I'll probably make more mistakes. At least at home, I have a real community that accepts me in all my humanity. Everyone should be so blessed.
I heard a Priest joke one time about his role. He said that because he stands at the altar, children sometimes ask him if he is God. His response is "I don't correct them."
I think the flip side of this is also very true. We want others to be god. We want doctors to be completely right, all of the time. We want clergy to provide Divine guidance. I heard a story of a rector who started showing his displeasure at how the vestry was treating him. He tried to say, "Wait a minute, that isn't fair." In response, the Senior Warden replied "We don't want to know that you bleed." We set up others in some sort of twisted humanity. One that entitles people to say and do whatever they want.
I think that many people love this role of being seen as God or a god. People want to be bullet proof and perfect. Doctors are notorious for this. Unfortunately, getting stuck into this sort of distorted role, you loose the ability to be human
Being human means that you make mistakes, you grow and most importantly: you suffer. Christ shares his suffering with us as he wept in the Garden. He knows what it is like to suffer physically, to watch his mother suffer. He shares with us His anguish on the cross. I think this is what he really came to teach us.
Walking around performing miracles, teaching, telling parables are all the easy part. Standing up before a crowd and being admired and worshipped is rewarding. Strutting around your job, church or a hospital is forgetting your own fallible nature. Letting others see your pain is excruciating. Inviting others to know you in a vulnerable way can be dangerous. Confessing your mistakes is difficult. Although there is great suffering in being human, there is much joy. It frees you from the confines of playing perfect and lets you join others in being human. It gives you others to suffer with you, and to celebrate with you.
I've found myself in groups where humanity is not allowed. I've watched people turn their back on me because of a mistake. Worse than that, I've watch them shun me because they didn't want to admit their own mistakes. This has happened more than I care to think about. It has left me doing my best to be seen as perfect, not wanting to be questioned. I don't want to be placed in the position of having to prove myself, again.
Yet, I've realized that this is not fair to my children (or even to myself). They are getting to see that I am human. I make mistakes. Period. I always try to fix them, but I'll probably make more mistakes. At least at home, I have a real community that accepts me in all my humanity. Everyone should be so blessed.
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