If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride

I have a kind of running wish list going. For varying reasons. I think I have this perfected image of myself and the way I would like my life to be. I keep it up on the highest shelf in my brain, and bring it down occasionally to dust it off and tweak it a bit.  All this happens in one flash of mental imagery; not quite so methodical as I made out.


So. Before you think I may need to call someone--

--here is my  current list.

1.

A.The ideal.

A well balanced Catholic life. Full of closeness to God. Discipline in devotional prayer and frequent mass and adoration. Accurate levels of conscience-induced discomfort and well thought out
examination of conscience. Regular confession. Living my Catholic life in an attractive, joyful way, so as to preach the gospel without words. Uncomplaining, unflinching service.










B. The reality.

 Desperate prayers and muttered cries for help. Three Hail Marys in place of a whole Rosary. Plodding through my days looking frazzled and distracted. Grumbly, (at least on the inside), Oh-bother service.
On-the-go prayers. Reading of the Divine office, but skipping ahead to see how long it will be. Vague feeling of guilt. Watching TV in the evenings, or reading a book instead of doing an examination of conscience. Remembering sins after confession.


2.

A. The ideal.

A smoothly run household with planned, healthy, meals, regularly cleaned, and no unidentifiable smells.  No piles. Projects, once begun, completed quickly. No dust. No debt, and shaved down expenses.

B. The reality.

Everything gets done, but not before it absolutely has to. Or should have been, past tense. Meals range from all-homemade, yummy and mostly healthy, to store made, frozen, sandwiches, or pizza. The cycles go pretty much weekly.

A few times a week, I get out of bed to go look for some smell that floats up to my nose like Pepe Le Pew's scent trail. Usually, it's the litter box. But not always. Once is was a gas leak.

We are world class pile-makers. (No, don't go there, you know what I mean. Ew!) When the kids wash dishes, I often refer to the stack in the drainer as the leaning tower of Pisa. Or Dish-Jenga. And paper. I try to have receptacles for different items-- school papers, mail, etc. No dice. Now, we just have overflowing baskets with piles next to them. I follow people around, going, "do you need this?"
Our house accumulates dust in approximately four minutes. So, by the time I finish one room, the last one is dusty. Yes, I only spend four minutes dusting. What's the point?

As for expenses, too many overlapping services that are long on promise and short on delivery.

3.

A. My Dream Home/surroundings.

An older, rustic-y home with large, open rooms. A professional kitchen with an island that doubles as an eating area. Enough bedrooms to double as guest rooms and office/music/whatever rooms. Enough bookcases. Being able to rent this home, so we will never have to replace a roof or a heating system, but still have freedom to paint and interiorly-design at will. And have whatever pets we want.

 Attached to a working farm, or at least have a large enough parcel of land around the house to have a little green, people-less space. Space for gardening. Air that doesn't make you think there may be a toxic spill at the refinery. A little rectangle of space, all our own, that we can come home from a long day, or with a car load of groceries, and just pull into! If I remember correctly, some call it a PARKING SPACE. And if I wanted to get all elaborate in my wishing, then maybe even a GARAGE. whew! I wished so hard for that one I may have pulled something.

B. My actual house/surroundings.

An older, pretty spacious for a row home, row home. Mid-block. Nice size kitchen. One workable counter top area, that also happens to be in a corner, with the most-used dish cabinet above, and the coffee maker/toaster station there because of the outlet. This arrangement calls for ballet-like precision whenever there is more than one person cooking, getting dishes, or making coffee or toast. As a family, we are more along the lines of roller-derby than ballet. I have been talking about adding a small island, but so far, no.

 We have a piano in our bedroom. Digital, but still.

Try as I might, stacks of books appear with no other feasible alternative. The dining room functions as a catch-all area, only getting really cleared out for parties or holiday dinners. Or the time Ben set his drums up in there to play music with friends on his birthday.Hardwood floors. Imagine the sound level. Neighbors, thankfully, did not call the police.  His regular band plays in the basement.

                                                                          

 We have one neurotic cat.
   

                          

Outside. We live on a bus route. A veritable parade of humanity passes two feet from our door all day and night. In back, there is about a six by twelve slab of cement with a one by twelve raised bed at one end. I do all I can with that area in spring and summer.

Hang laundry, plant whatever I can, try to sit out and read and sun. I say try, because the area is walled off on three sides, the fourth side is a chain link fence and our neighbors. Well. Just can't sit six feet from people in my bathing suit and feel comfortable. That's just me.

And, yes, there actually is a refinery not far away.
And those little rectangles for putting your car full of groceries or bags of bowling balls? Nada. Nope. Fugget it. At least not within shouting distance of the front door.





So, you get the gist. You may think I am complaining here. Not so! I love our house, with all it's idiosyncrasies. And if you want to extrapolate from there, you could include it's inhabitants, ahem. I love that we are close to all the culture, especially our connection to the Academy of Music and the Kimmel Center. And, if we need medicine in the middle of the night, or cookies, they are readily available at a 24-hour store somewhere close. There are lots of conveniences, lots of really good people among the throngs and many, many churches. A rich history, and certainly lots of good food to be found. Some good schools. Good medical care.

I accept what God has given at this time. I accept the season of life. There are some parts that are harder than others, more to do with family living too far away, or family members in a time of suffering. We make our life as it is, as enjoyable as possible. But there is a certain pleasure to be had by dreaming of the scenarios I mentioned, that some part of me longs for. Especially being in the quiet of nature and having a little piece of land to putter around on.

I am a believer that God wants to fulfill at least some of our earthly desires, as long as they fit with His will for us. The whole asking for bread and not getting a stone thing. I don't believe in the gospel of prosperity, but I do believe in the gospel of God being a father who loves us. I thank Him so much every day for all He has given me, in spite of my poor attempts to serve Him. I mean that in the sense that my humanity is only capable of so much spiritual perfection, according to his grace. He loves our "poor" offerings, just as we love the noodle necklaces offered by our own children. Made with love, to the very best of their abilities. 




 I don't really consider this a problem. Just an extension of my inner person. Okay, so if my inner person is a tiny bit neurotic, God loves neurotics, too. If I learned anything at all from my Jesus Retreat experience, it's that it is okay to be on a journey, okay not to have 'arrived,' as long as I am going in the right direction.

Peace, everybody

+JMJ+

Kelly

I must be getting older

Goodness, I have been wanting to get to this post for weeks!

Oh, and Happy New Year! Already, I'm behind!

I'll tell you, the whole thing started with me thinking abut death. Don't go away yet! It's not all that bad.

Some months ago, we were attending a church that had some carving of saints waaay up high, embedded in the front wall. I would find myself trying to identify them. One was holding something that I finally recognized as a skull! I looked it up later only to find it was St. Francis.

The reason he is depicted with the skull is because he wanted to remember his mortality. Why, you may ask, would he want to do that?




Well, for the same reason a person who has survived some life threatening thing; in short, to live this life on earth with the fervor of knowing how impermanent it is. With more appreciation. With the proper perspective.

I have a dear cousin who in turn has some dear offspring, one who is far more intelligent than people have a right to be (that is to say, sometimes I struggle to keep up in understanding his writings), but he has this post on his blog, in which he talks about just this subject. Maybe from a slightly different angle, but I truly appreciate his take.  He wasn't talking about death, but about how to latch on to what God is doing every day in our own lives.


http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Post-sunset_horizon_from_aircraft.JPG

One contributing factor to my thought process is that I have crossed the great and magic line in life some people like to refer to as one's fifties. It really isn't much different that being in your forties, except I am moving slightly slower. Not too bad. But it does kind of bring that far horizon creeping into view. And that gets one to thinking differently. Not feeling like there is all the time in the world for putting off the really important stuff. And making the not-so-important-stuff, well, not so important. 



 I guess I'm kind of slow, because it takes me a little while sometimes, for lessons to really sink in and percolate and finally reach my conscious mind and heart. That part happens all of a sudden though! I can't tell you how many epiphanies I have had that I had NO IDEA were about to happen. Some are wonderful, powerful spiritual insights. Others are quite jarring, awful, and grim. There have been times when I have woken from a fog of sorts, and realized something that was quite life-changing. These moments are such clear memories. All are gifts. Do you know the old saying, "Don't pray for patience?" Well, I might also add, don't pray for wisdom or knowledge unless you really want to see. Sometimes truth can be a hard thing to come to terms with. (I think that made the "old saying" list as well). But a simple person like myself really needs to be shown, or I may never figure anything out! So show me He does. He also gives grace to bear the weight of it, but sometimes it is still heavy. Oh, I know, all this theoretical talk. Maybe I will tell a few of the stories later. My point, though, is that we are not long here on this earth. Our lives can seem so complicated, but every once in a while, something happens and we feel God reaching through to touch us, and suddenly, there is a clarity that wasn't there before.

This picture is the cast we saw last night.

I saw Les Miserables for the fourth time last night. Not the movie, (yet), but the live musical. This story is so powerful, and every time I see it, I am given another beautiful gift.

The first time I saw it, was about 1996. I was in a marriage that was growing increasingly abusive, and little did I know, would come to and end in 1998. But we were given two tickets and so we saw it at the Walnut Street Theater. I had never known the story and was so taken with the theme of God's mercy. The main character, Jean Valjean overcomes incredible suffering and injustice, receives the gift of mercy and lives his life embracing  his redemption. I was suffering in my marriage, the kids were suffering, and I couldn't see any way to make it better. The atmosphere in the house was getting so tense that we were all walking on eggshells, afraid of what might next set him off. I won't go into all the details. But while I was at the show, tears ran from beginning to end.  I identified with some of the characters and situations, yes, but also just being in the proximity of all the beauty and powerful,  gorgeous voices, transported me to places I had not been in many years. It was like a window into real life while trapped in a dark cell.

 Aferterward, I willed the music to stay in my head, but it was the first and only time I'd heard it, so it quickly faded. Over the years I would watch for the public television fund drives,  often they would show the Les Miserables concerts. I also read the book. Difficult and long, but so worth the effort and again, the connection to that experience. And to hope.

Hope in the midst of chaos and suffering. In the midst of events that seemed to make no sense. Hope that God would see and deliver.

Those of you that know us and even a small part of our story know that He has been good and faithful to help us. How He has taken even the darkest parts of our history and brought good, Not everything, not yet. But every time I see this show, it reminds me to hope and that when life seems convoluted, and I can't see a way forward, God is still at work.

Did I know all this before? Yes, but to have it portrayed with strength, beauty and incredible passion, is another holy moment for me, as my cousin spoke of so well.

And now I am able to remember the songs, am blessed to have access and listen whenever I want. But it's seeing it live that always brings the first experience back. It is good to remember, sometimes, how it was to be broken and in dire need of God to reach in my life and deliver. And to pray for that deliverance to be completed in all my family.