Love Garden

Sweet fragrances; scented petunias, lavender, and rosemary melt into the late afternoon heat as I trudge up and down the stairs with my watering can.  My garden grows is in a tiny walled courtyard.  Three tiers of brick and wrought iron stacked one on top of the other like a layer cake.  I share the old building with four other tenants.  She is a grand dame, past her prime, full of aging charm.  No spigot. 

The house resides on an old St. Louis street and stares down the alley to the apartment where Tennessee Williams lived as a boy; where he set “The Glass Menagerie.”  Like the short story, this neighborhood is full of promise, faded and broken.  Time is seldom kind. 

Before he left for the summer my love tilled the tiny garden plot against the south wall and planted red and white flowers, tomatoes and peppers.  Two large clay pots on brick posts are filled with red and yellow flowers and morning glory spilling over the sides.  The stairs are lined with herbs; basil, rosemary, parsley, cilantro and lavender.  Hanging baskets are strung on the walls and hang from the balcony. 

I trudge up and down the stairs with my watering can each evening.  It is a labor of love.    By the time the sun sets I sit damp and sweaty on my tiny balcony and breathe thank-you into the night air. We are apart but he has filled my garden with love and flowers.

After the Storms

Jubilee for a whole year is a harder than you might think.  Jubilee for a day a weekend or even a season would be manageable.  Five months into Jubilee bad things are bound to happen and they have.  My son and daughter-in-law lost their home in the tornadoes that ripped through the South at the end of April.  Everything in it smashed to smithereens and flung against the hill on the other side of the road.   After a quick trip down to Tennessee for hugs and tears it was back to work and one grueling deadline after another.  (A pox on bureaucratic regulators!) The apartment complex I have been living in is closing for renovation and forced us into an unscheduled move.  (Still mad about that!)  Most days I have felt that I could barely push one foot in front of the other let alone Jubilee.  St. Louis weather has obliged my dank dismal mood with one of the coolest, wettest May’s on record.  The Merry Month of May it was not! 

Someone asked me last week “what’s been the hardest part of your Jubilee,” and I thought to myself, “what Jubilee? This has been the month from Hell.” 

So at this point you’re probably wondering – is the Jubilee over?  In spite of all my grousing and bitter complaining I am forced to admit that I am so thankful, so very, very grateful!  The worse my son and his wife had to suffer was a loss of earthly possessions.  The generosity of friends, family and total strangers (as well as a good insurance policy) have made them whole again except for a few lost mementos.  And in the midst of a slow, slow economic recovery the aforementioned bureaucrats have insured my continued employment.  And as it turns out my sweet husband found us a new apartment with almost twice the square footage and a beautiful three tiered garden patio.

We have survived the storms.  So why am I complaining? 

A close friend of mine lost an adult son to a drug overdose after a long and painful struggle with mental illness and addiction.  In a conversation with him recently he reminisced about the too short relationship with a beautiful but conflicted child.  He remarked, “Life is bittersweet, but the sweet is so very sweet!”  Is it?  Is the sweet still sweet after unspeakable grief, disappointment and loss?  If the answer is yes it is the miracle of grace, amazing grace!

When I take a moment to set down my petty annoyances and frustrations my heart can’t help but sing with joy.  The sweet is so very sweet!

Sabbath Jubilee

I went to church today and it was not a Jubilee.  I am fond of the people at my church. I care about their lives and I believe they care about mine.  But we did not celebrate.

The Psalmist said, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.”  My heart longs to hear the Joy of the Sabbath, the Good News of Salvation, the Gospel preached from the pulpit.  I long for a fellowship of believers to rejoice in the awesome power of the Creator and share the everyday miracles that we are witness to.  I would like to be challenged to walk in Christ’s footsteps; to treat Jews and Samaritans, rich and poor, and the leprous untouchables with dignity and grace.  He rose with healing in his wings.  Teach me how to provide compassion and healing for those broken by sorrow and regret.  He died to give us freedom, certainly we must honor that in the way we talk about and treat those that choose to believe and live differently than we do.  I did not find any of that at church today.     I did not find God.  My heart remained empty.

The sermon today was on the law of God.  The preacher admonished the faithful to do better while reminding us that we are indeed better than the homosexuals, abortionists and Sabbath breakers out there; a swift kick in the butt followed by a little pat on the back.  It’s a tired formula.  It made me sad and a little angry.   

God’s law is perfect.  It is the Eden we have lost, the Heaven we hope for.  That’s the beauty and the joy of it.  It is not a mighty stick to beat our friends and neighbors with.  It is not a lofty platform to look down at the world from.  Our church is not the perfect expression of the law.  We are “wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked.”  We are foolish to think we are somehow better.  “Behold I stand at the door and knock”, Jesus says in the next verse.  “I will come in to him and will sup with him, and he with me.”*  In spite of our sad and miserable state of affairs we are invited to a Sabbath banquet.   Why do we settle week after week for merely a Sabbath observance?

*Revelation 3:17 & 20

The Importance of Being Important

I had to travel out of town this week for business and met up with an old friend for lunch that I haven’t seen in a while.  It didn’t take me long to remember why I cherish his friendship.   Rob exudes joy, sheer joy, irrepressible childlike joy and a wicked sense of humor.  Rob is interested in everything and everybody.  But mostly he is interested in making sure you have a good time.  He suggested lunch at a famous restaurant overlooking the city and requested a table with a river view.  While we waited for our meal I asked him how many buildings he had clients in.  My friend is really good at what he does.  He’s captured most of the city skyline.  

After lunch he offered me a ride in his Porsche (I told you he was good at what he does) and we took a fast tour of the city as he pointed out several points of interest that he thought I might want to check out while I was in town.  We spent four hours together and it will probably be several years before we see each other again.  Rob said he cleared his schedule when he heard I would be in town, although I certainly didn’t expect him to.  Rob is generous that way. 

What does Rob do for a living?  He notifies people that they don’t have a job anymore.  I’ve had to accompany him on a few assignments and the thing about Rob that makes him so good at what he does is first of all his undivided attention but secondly and most importantly his rock solid conviction that his clients are going to be OK.  In the midst of falling apart he reminds them of who they are and treats them as successful professionals able to exert control over their own destiny.  If you lost your job would you rather have someone who sympathized with your misery or someone who treated you as if you had already succeeded in overcoming this particular bit of nastiness?  I know who I’d rather have.  So do his clients.  There are not too many Robs’ in the world.  I find that most people are like me, more focused on having a good time than giving somebody else a good time.  More concerned about setting the stage to make a good impression than setting the stage to make some else look important. 

In my personal Year of Jubilee I would like to take a page from Rob’s book and spend a little less time on being important and a little more time making others look and feel important.  It seems to be working for Rob!

Sustaining the Jubilee

So after twelve weeks of Jubilee I’m wondering is a whole year of Jubilee really possible?  Part of me feels like it’s time to pick up my Puritan mantle and return to work.  Like being on vacation and feeling it’s time to be getting back now.  I feel the pull.  The desire to pick up all the old expectations and set a few more is stronger than you might think.  I never realized how insistent the little voices in my head could be.  Work hard, eat right, exercise, make a list, don’t let the dust settle, organize stuff, create things, write things, do things, be a good girl, and ye shall be treated justly!

In the Bible it says a year of Jubilee not a season of Jubilee.  The Israelites never got around to taking one.  If they had would it have made a difference now?  Looking at the mega load of projected expectations being flung around in the Middle East I have to wonder.  Working hard without rest can build a wall of pride and hubris so high compassion, forgiveness and joy can’t possibly get in.  Why should it?  Jubilation seems to me to be the direct opposite of judgment.   Ali, ali auction; everyone in free is not part of doing the “right” thing.  Doing the right thing means getting what we deserve.  How wretched would that be? 

Releasing friends, family and perfect strangers from living up to my expectations has been an awesome experience.  Every relationship I have has improved.  Even some relationships that I had assumed were beyond repair have healed themselves.  I take that as a small miracle of grace! 

Refusing to accept the expectations of others still doesn’t feel natural.  I think we are programmed from such an early age to build our identity around the expectations placed on us that it is difficult to extract ourselves from the mix.  What do I expect of myself v. what do parents, spouse or friends expect me to be like.  It’s been an interesting journey and I’m still not there yet. 

I’m trying to placate the voices in my head by telling them that I will pick them up again at the end of the year.  And then I add very quietly so they won’t hear, “if I want to!”

Trolls

I got trolled last week.  Trolling is internet slang.  A Troll baits an online target to provoke an emotional outburst; the stronger the better.  Trolls keep score and record their “kills” for other Trolls to admire.   The more pain, shock or outrage the victim expresses the more points the Troll scores.  Trolls lurk around chat boards and social networking sites attempting to lure targets into conversations. In the past articles on internet trolling have discussed the phenomenon as a rather nasty bit of fun, sort of Puck at his worst, but recent suicides as the result of internet trolling have darkened the public’s opinion considerably.  It doesn’t seem quite so funny.

 The first time I was trolled was in Second Life, a virtual 3-D world created to host cyber space events such as job fairs and philosophy forums.  While navigating the entry island with my ‘generic female’ avatar trying not to bang into the walls or fall off a cliff (it’s harder than you might think)  a hunky male avatar suddenly jumped out from behind a building and bounced up and down on my avatar while the text bubble over his head scrolled, “Rape! Rape! Rape!”  I immediately shut the program down and stared at the blank screen for several seconds in shock.  I felt incredibly violated and yet nobody had touched me.  I was sitting safely in my own living room. 

Trolling is an internet term but the behavior has been around long before the internet made it so easy and so anonymous.  You’ve probably been trolled at work, at school or even church.  You suddenly find yourself under intense personal attack, the emotionally charged rhetoric far exceeding any actual offense you may or may not have committed.  Confusion and shock probably caught you off guard and kept you rooted to the spot allowing the Troll to complete their full dirty work.  I’m always left with feelings of shame and helplessness after a Troll attack fantasizing about all the things I didn’t think of saying until latter.  

Recently I overheard a particular nasty bit of trolling at a restaurant.  Two women were “witnessing” to a third woman trapped in a booth with them.  They took turns slamming her under the guise of spiritual concern.  It was really ugly.  The poor sinner woman wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise between the two church trolls delivering a tag team beat down.   I left before the finale so I don’t know how it ended.  I hope she finally recovered her self-respect and told them where they could stick their pious concerns but from the glazed look on her face it didn’t look to me like it was heading in that direction. 

In C.S. Lewis’ book, THE GREAT DIVORCE, the residents of hell are allowed to take a bus trip to heaven and stay on if they want to.  They never do.  After trying unsuccessfully to harass the residents of heaven with guilt trips, tirades and narcissistic demands which nobody responds to they decide to go back to hell.  The heavenly creatures offer the visitors kind attention for a moment or two but the fiends are not interested in provoking kindness.  They are only interested in generating guilt, shame, or self-loathing and since that doesn’t exist in heaven they go back to hell where it rains a never ending font of remorse. 

During my Year of Jubilee I realize that I can’t stop the Troll attacks.   I can offer them a few moments of kindness and then move on.

Jubilee Love

What do you mean you have no expectations of your partner?  Does that mean you guys are swingers now?

Not everyone is bold enough to ask me that question out loud but I can tell when they’re heading down that path.  I guess it’s a fair question.  The answer is a big fat NO!  Biblically the Year of Jubilee is about ceasing labor not breaking the law.  In that spirit I think a Year of Jubilee in a marriage is about celebrating not laboring.  But don’t you have to work at a relationship?  I don’t know, do you?  I’ve always heard that you do.

I have to say a marriage without expectations has turned out to be a very sweet affair.   It eliminates so much unnecessary interpersonal tension.  I don’t worry if my partner is pulling his fair share of the load because he’s getting a year off.  I'm taking one off too. Removing unspoken obligations feels great.   Nobody has to do anything – really!  It might sound chaotic but it’s not.  It sort of goes like this – If you’re hungry get something to eat, if you’re running out of clean clothes throw a load in the laundry, if the mess bothers you straighten it, if you need some quiet time say so, if the oil in the car needs to be changed – well maybe you can negotiate a deal on that one.   But asking a partner for a favor is a lot different than expecting them to perform simply because they’re unlucky enough to be in a relationship you.   No fussing, pouting, whining, nagging or emotional blackmail for a whole year!  How does that sound now?

It’ sounds like a party to me!  

Dancing with Gremlins, Hob Goblins & Kill Joys

“I’d like to build the world a home and furnish it with love, grow apple trees and honey bees
and snow white turtle doves…” 

I’ve declared a personal year of Jubilee but the world and I have not joined hands in a dance through the meadows yet.  Not everyone is handing me daisies.  I’ve come to the realization that I am going to have to learn how to dance with a few gremlins, hob goblins and kill joys or this is going to be a very short year. 

I’m starting to get the hang of this monster mash.  It’s not exactly like a waltz.  It’s more like the hokey pokey – you put your right foot in, you take your right foot out. 

It’s a little herky jerky but releasing ‘frenemies’ from my expectations has allowed me to synch up to their rhythms a lot easier.  That means, of course, that we are no longer following my carefully planned and may I add superior choreography, but hey we are bobbing along just the same!  Not accepting their expectations allows me to sit out a dance from time to time as well.  It’s not perfect but it’s working a lot better than I expected. 

This week a friend shared their frustration with a difficult co-worker.  I mentioned the obvious; they probably aren’t going to change.  My friend launched with zeal into all the reasons why this person should change, and how wrong it was for them not to change, and I realized I could be looking in a mirror.  I’ve probably said all those same things a hundred times.  And I’m pretty sure I’ve been right but it’s irrelevant.  Nobody changes because I think they should.  I’m just not that magical but on the other hand, I’m getting better at the two-step!   

A Month of Jubilee!

So what does a year of Jubilee look like?  Here’s what I’ve experienced in the first month. 

Week 1 Breaking free of external expectations for a year – FEELS SOOOOO GOOD! I didn’t realize how much baggage I’d accumulated from preacher’s kid to principal’s wife. Those roles proscribed even the most personal choices I made.  Example: Painted my nails bright red.

Week 2 Releasing others from my expectations – IS SO REWARDDING!  I had grown so many silly expectations of my immediate family.  Old roles, old habits, ingrained societal expectations – really, whose job is it to take out the trash anyways?  Example: Spent Christmas playing games not cooking.

Week 3 Keeping up the no expectations rule – IS SO HARD!  Releasing myself from the expectations of others was euphoric.  Giving my immediate family permission to do and be as they saw fit was deeply rewarding.  Returning to the bosom of my original family was not so euphoric.  I guess home is where the nest of mutual expectations are born.  Example: Reverted to birth order role and became boss of the world. (Yah, not too pretty; exactly why one should Jubilee occasionally.)

Week 4 Not making a list of New Year’s Resolutions feels wrong!  Even though it’s painfully obvious that my New Year’s resolutions have not made me wiser, kinder or thinner it seems wrong to simply resolve to enjoy life this year.  Example:  Ordered a slice of pumpkin cheesecake without a side of regret. 

This is what my first month looks like:

Ally, ally auction, everyone in free!

Where two or three are gathered together ye may expect malicious gossip.  I know – It’s a rather cynical rephrasing of Jesus, “Where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them,” – Matt 18:20.  And it’s not only church; it’s how things roll at the office, at the gym, in Starbucks, on FaceBook and I bet every family reunion since Jacob and Esau reunited their two humongous families in Canaan.  Olympia Dukakis’ famous line in Steel Magnolias, “If you don’t have anything good to say, come sit by me,” sums it up for me.

But in church it’s particularly off putting, don’t you think?  Whatever happened to “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” –Matt 11:28.  Because if anyone is heavy laden you can bet they’ve got some real stinkers in the closet.  Any faithful churchgoer can tell you that a fresh sinner will stoke the rumor mill through a month of potlucks!  I’m not saying I’m not one of the worst offenders here.  Gossip is just delicious – it is!  But it’s only fun if it’s about ‘them’ not about ‘us’.   This is where the waters get a little murky.  As they say on Project Runway, “One minute you’re in, the next minute you’re out.” 

I was sitting in church just before Thanksgiving and the preacher started preaching about ‘them’ in a way that made it perfectly plain that ‘them’ were obviously not a part of ‘us’.  Not that unusual for church I guess except this time it was my ‘us’ he was talking about.  Blood rushed to my head.  Part of me wanted to jump up and rebuke the ‘sinner’ in the pulpit and the other part of me wanted to march out the door and never come back.  The part of me that merely sunk down in the pew and seethed won out. 

At some point it occurred to me that I’ve been just as guilty of the same pathetic, self-righteous bigotry, probably even from the pulpit.  That little epiphany rocked my world.  I started thinking that I really needed to lay down my heavy burden of expectations about ‘them’ for a while, or at least try.  I needed to declare a personal year of Jubilee; ally, ally auction, everyone in free!   How about that for awhile?

Created to Party

I think of Jesus as a party kind of guy.  Not the party line type of guy; the kind of guy who fit right in with a good time.  I’m not sure most Christians see Jesus as the partying type but if you read the gospels without your pious glasses on you see Jesus at a lot of parties.  In fact the religious leaders of the day complained about it.   “Hey look,” they said, “You think this guy is some sort of holy prophet?  Well I have it on good authority that he parties with corrupt financiers and prostitutes.  Yeah!  And he doesn’t even wash his hands!”  I’m paraphrasing of course but I think it’s a good paraphrase. 

I’m not suggesting that Jesus was a debauched hedonist; I’m just saying he was a fun guy.  And whether you were getting married or just throwing a bash for fifty of your closest friends Jesus made the guest list.  Now why would that be?  I have a few theories:

1.       Jesus was fun to have around.  That’s the obvious answer.  You don’t invite the pious snob to your party. 

2.       Jesus partied openly.  You know the Priests and Pharisees partied too.  They just did it secretly.  That’s when it gets creepy.  Jesus didn’t care who saw him at a party.  He wasn’t pious snob or a religious hypocrite. 

3.       And finally, we were created in the first place because it pleased him.  We were created not as servants or robots but as creatures imbued with an entire array of senses for our pleasure.  We touch, we see, we feel, we sing, we laugh.  We were built to party!

If we were a little more up front and a little less uptight about that fact I think we would be a lot less inclined to self-medicate.  Life really is a party!  It’s OK if we enjoy it.

Sabbatical from Worry

This week I worked myself into a forth of worry over a project at work.  I could feel the old adrenalin rush - this is important – I’m important.  I damn well better worry about getting this right! What a load of pseudo-pious delusionary garbage!

A personal year of Jubilee is sort of like a Sabbatical from worry.  And how is that working for you – you are probably asking.  Well obviously not perfect.  “Come unto me all you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest,” Jesus said.  Not exactly, “Don’t worry, be happy,” but pretty close I think.  I worry about way too many things --- about my job, about my kids, what my mother thinks, if I eat that cupcake I’ll never be thin, I really should study my Bible more, clean the house, do more art, get that craft project for my sister finished  --- I really should relax more.  I worry about that too.  I’m a huge worry wart.  It’s pretty obvious why I needed this year. 

Is it possible to just stop worrying?  To be honest it feels rather pious to worry – sort of spiritual. Worrying means I’m not partaking of that deadly sin of pride, right?  I’m not being complacent if I’m worrying.  I’m not having any fun either.   I catch myself a hundred times a day falling off the wagon – Yikes!  I really should be worrying about that.  But I’m just plain tired of worrying.  It’s exhausting.  I am giving myself permission not to worry for just one year. 

 I love my job.  It’s not perfect.  Sometimes I don’t manage my time well.   I’m not going to worry about it this year.  God was very clear he’d provide so I’m going to trust that.  I’m not going to worry about my kids.  They’re not kids anymore and they really don’t need the burden of my worry anyways.   I’m not dieting this year either.  I’ve spent my whole adult life worrying more about that more than actually doing it any ways.  So for a year I’m enjoying every bite I eat!

I love my job, my kids, my husband and when I quit worrying about all of them collectively it feels pretty good.  So far the earth hasn’t come to a screeching halt.

It’s My Party & I’ll Dance if I Want to

Two weeks into a personal Year of Jubilee I’m surprised to discover – no let me rephrase that – I’m shocked to discover, how much my body wants to move.  Who knew shedding expectations could be so energizing?!  I’m not the exercising kind of girl.  Gym memberships and tread mills have not figured prominently in my past.  I admit I’ve had the occasional fling with an elliptical trainer but nothing you might call a long term relationship.

New Year’s resolutions just don’t seem to fit the spirit of a Jubilee so I didn’t make any this week.  I’ve spent a number of decades faithfully making and breaking resolutions and the attending guilt and self loathing are what I’d like not to experience this year.  Yet here I am hiking any chance I get, climbing the stairs instead of taking the elevator (I know, I can’t believe it either!) and dancing like a maniac all over my little apartment.  It just feels sooooo good!  Happiness and joy are leaking out and my feet want to move.

I never learned to dance when I was a teenager.  And I am not naturally coordinated.  My so called attempt at dance is not the stuff of dreams.  It’s spastic and silly and probably a little terrifying judging from the expressions on my husband and daughters faces as I’ve careened about with my I-pod shuffle shoved in my ears.  It just feels sooooo good!   What can I say?

A young friend of mine invited me to join a burlesque exercise group this week.  She told me that the instructors are really, really sweet; the members are all ages and shapes and there are no expectations.  I didn’t say yes but I haven’t said no yet either.  I’m thinking…it’s my party.  I’m gonna’ dance if I want to!

How does one Jubilee, exactly?

I have been telling my friends and family that I am preparing to embark on a personal Year of Jubilee.  My friend’s faces light up with a surprised smile and then they frown and say, “How are you going to do that?”  The idea is so compelling but the how is a little difficult to define.  Does it mean that 2011 will be a non-stop party?  I can only hope!  Does it mean that I will quit my job?  No, it’s just getting fun!  Does it mean that I will quit paying my bills?  I don’t think so!

And no one owes me a penny so it’s not like I can cancel any debts.  But over the course of the last fifty years or so I have developed a lot of serious expectations involving some pretty heavy duty obligations even if they are not the monetary sort.  And the whole idea of a personal Year of Jubilee was a resentful realization that I feel like I am expected to do a lot of things; not only to meet the expectation of my friends and family but to meet the expectations of various groups and organizations.  Is it possible to emancipate one’s self entirely from expectations for a whole year? I don’t owe anyone – no one owes me? 

I never realized before how much of my life is consumed with just petty expectations.  My husband for instance – he’s the one who takes the dog out.  If I quit having that expectation it means I might have to be the one that hops up at the crack of dawn!  (Luckily the dog doesn’t know I’m in the middle of a Jubilee and still petitions the other side of the bed when he wakes up.) 

For my Year of Jubilee I have resolved to release my friends and family from my expectations and to release myself from the expectations of others.  At the end of week one I have to say it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster ride.  I was able to spend a long weekend with my grown daughters – no expectations – simply interacting.  No one worried about schedules, chores or if someone was going to get offended if they chose to opt out of a ‘sacred ritual.’  No expectations’ regarding likes or dislikes, life style choices, future plans or friends.  It was a beautiful weekend filled with love and affection and the only way I can describe it is – sheer joy.  I have never experienced my daughters in such a free and playful way before and it was exhilarating.  Is this what heaven will be like?  I sure hope so!

On the other hand I’ve realized how really, really hard it is to live without expectations in the larger, less intimate context.  Embarking on a Jubilee right smack in middle of the holidays might not have been the best choice.  My extended family and I have had years and decades to build towering edifices of unspoken expectations.   It’s so easy to slip back into old familiar roles picking up old baggage and I have to say my Jubilee suffered some serious setbacks.  As a friend of mine once said, “it took all the ‘fun’ out of dysfunctional!” And all families are dysfunctional aren’t they?  I think I can do better, I sure hope so.  As hard as it is to release those I have a close personal history with from my expectations I’ve realized it’s really impossible to Jubilee while continuing to clutch them tightly.

At the end of week one my grown daughters have embraced our new relationship.   They have suggested that I make my Jubilee a life change.   I’m feeling a little humbled.  My husband tells me with a smile that he gives my Jubilee until August – maybe!