'The Glass Castle" (and Downton Abbey): Pick your Poison

I just finished reading Jeannette Walls' book 'The Glass Castle', and I can't stop thinking about it. Walls pulls her reader through a deep and dark saga that left me feeling melancholy, yet amazed, incredibly blessed, and with a new outlook on humanity. I'm not exaggerating, I promise.

source

The book made me think about lots of things. About my childhood, about my children's childhood, about how lucky I am, and about the choices people make.

When my friend Ann gave me the book to read, she said that it was depressing. Trying to figure out if it was worth my time, I asked if it were also redemptive. This has been my gauge on depressing books since freshman year of high school, when we had to read Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton. I discussed the book with my Dad, probably just complaining about how awful it was, and Dad taught me that Ethan Frome wasn't just awful, it lacked redemption.

...and then they made a movie out of it?!
photo source (+me)

What I didn't know then (thanks to my blessedly lucky and wonderfully naive childhood, and my loving parents...!), but for sure and certain know now, is that life isn't always a chair of bowl-ies.

source

But what of this "redemptive" business? Cannot there be suffering without painting it pink and calling in the clowns? Back to Ann giving me the book. To answer my question, she told me about how the author's parents *chose* to live as homeless people. Ann told me that the book showed how sometimes people make surprising choices in life.

I devoured the book in two days (which is significant, considering the amount of trouble Leo and Daniel can get into...or maybe they got into extra trouble because I was reading? Shhhhh!)

There were multiple instances in the book that started to make my skin crawl. Nearly every page recounts experiences that would land the best of us in counseling for decades, and Walls' parents in prison for child endangerment and neglect. And yet, Jeannette Walls does not have a tone of regret or complaint in her narrative. She relates the stories as just what happened to her and her family. She tells them as someone who has lived through quite a lot, has learned and grown from it, but has not let it embitter her or harm her in the long term. Now, these conclusions on my part are entirely speculative. For all I know Ms. Walls has spent decades in therapy to come to this point. However, she does not leave the reader feeling this way.

The reader of 'The Glass Castle' is left in a sort of awe at the maturity of the Walls children, and baffled at the choices of the Walls parents. And yet, with Walls' talented authorship, you aren't allowed to feel sorry for any of them. The choices that Rex and Mary Walls make are dangerous to their family, but Jeannette leaves them there, they are just choices. She describes vividly the consequences of the choices, but she doesn't seek to tie you to them, to make you sick with the unfairness or the ugliness in any of it.

So, what's the verdict? Is the book redemptive? Does it pass the Ethan Frome test? (EF Test: tie the book to a sled, push it down a hill...). Yes, I believe it does. And stay with me, because I don't think I'm trying to gloss over anything, or to see everything through rose-colored glasses (read: I'm alright with having a book fail the EF test...).

Let me digress to illustrate...since watching the first few episodes of Downton Abbey's Season 4, I have been reflecting a lot lately on suffering, especially suffering that is inflicted on us by another. Episode 2 had me antsy for days. If you know me, or have read some of my thoughts before, you know that some suffering scares me. I've decided (because it's flattering) that this is partly because I am empathetic to people, even if they are *just* TV characters. But I think the deeper issue is my need to see the redemption in any suffering. Suffering for its own sake, or inflicted at the cruel and twisted whim of an evil heart, makes my blood boil.

you're killin' me smalls...
photo source (+me)

I have learned recently through reading some posts by Anne over @ModernMrsDarcy, that the dramatic reactions I have to mere fictional stories could be that I am perhaps a "Highly Sensitive Person" (think you are too? Take the quiz here. Just like taking quizzes? Click here instead.)

I can take this information that I may be a HSP (as ModernMrs.Darcy puts it), and decide never to read or view content that sets me off. This may seem like over-kill, but I think that some moderation, in light of the emotional train wreck that my brain goes through for several days following such stuff, is not dramatic. I need to find the balance between hiding from the dark, and letting it make me cower.  Avoiding books or TV shows with such content, to leave room in my emotional bank for real-life situations is probably something I need to consider seriously.

Beyond finding out more about myself, I am becoming more and more aware that ultimately, there is a lot of choice in life. I don't seek to erase this part of myself, for there are benefits to draw from being sensitive. I am an empathetic person, who can often sense a solution to a problem or the particular help a person might need. This is good. But part of my sensitivity can be balm-ed by the knowledge that much of life's pain an suffering is caused by mere people's mere choices. And this is what I have learned most concretely from The Glass Castle. People can choose to be cruel, vindictive, twisted, malicious and even evil, but I can choose how I react. I can choose to love. I can choose to be respectful in the face of callousness. I can choose healing over hurt.

How can this be?

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God; for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord" (Romans 12:19)

Vengeance is mine, and recompense, for the time when their foot shall slip; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and their doom comes swiftly. (Deuteronomy 32:35) 

When I "cast all my anxiety" (1 Peter 5:7) on God, I am free to let go and let be. I do not have to let the cares of the world weigh me down. This does not mean that I go through life as an uncaring block of ice, no. I can still empathize and care for people, but my care does not have to shake my core. My dismay does not need to detract from my duties and desires.

I can take a page from Jeannette Walls' book, (quite literally !), and find myself at peace amidst the turmoil I witness.

Fear & Loving

I am afraid.

I am afraid of a lot of things. I fear that my sons won't grow up to be happy, healthy, handsome and holy. I fear that they won't grow up at all. I fear accidental deaths. I fear drivers who text. I fear being attacked on a nursing visit. I fear being attacked in my home. I fear falling down the stairs while carrying a child. I fear being in some accident that leaves me maimed for life. I fear mental illness or delayed development in my boys. I fear rape. I fear for my loved ones. I fear miscarriages, chronic illnesses and major surgeries. I am afraid of taking a wrong step, of giving a patient the wrong or insufficient information, and leading to their increased illness or untimely death.

I am afraid.

Now, some of my fears are completely rational. Some of them are silly or unfounded. Many of them are useful for compelling my actions, leading me to take extra precaution or to double-check important things.

Secretly, though, I am afraid of the unknown, and I don't know where my trust has gone.

I used to trust so well.  I remember when Steven and I were dating, and I realized that being so close to someone could lead to major heartache. I realized that I had to trust God that I was supposed to continue, that He would hold me if I stepped out further on the branch.  I had to trust that the branch would hold, but even if it would not, I had to trust that God's hands were big enough to catch me.


I know that I need to let go of my fears; I need to find that place of trust again.  I have been thinking about fears today, after hearing a piece on the radio.  The woman being interviewed, Dawn Eden, is the author of a book for victims of sexual abuse. Now, thank the good Lord in Heaven, I was never in such a situation myself.  One particular statement she made, however, has been sounding a bell in my heart today.

She pointed out that Christ on the cross did not say to those crucifying Him, "I forgive you." Rather, He said, "Father, forgive them." (Luke 23:34)  Father forgive them.  Her point was, that Christ's example wasn't to go directly to those who were crucifying Him and open Himself up to further abuses.  He gave it to God to forgive. Indeed, St. Paul tells us, 

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God; for it is written, 'Vengence is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.'" (Romans 12:19 {cross-reference: Leviticus 19:18 & Deuteronomy 32:35})

My fears are preemptive acts of un-forgiveness, walls built up, instead of trust laid down. My creature-ly heart doesn't believe that I can forgive sins against me or my loved ones, doesn't imagine that I could cope with the worst situations I can conjure.

And I am right. I  can do none of that.

My heart remembered today a truth that I had forgotten.  I cannot change what the future holds: there is likely a lot of heartache and trial and rocky-road ahead in my life, but His love is big enough to cover it.  His mercy is great enough to forgive it.  His peace is surpassing enough to smooth it all out.

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day. (Matthew 6:34)

No good thing does the Lord withhold from those who walk uprightly. (Psalm 84:11)

Common Ground: Mackelmore's 'Same Love'

I don't have cable or satellite TV, and the radio time I do manage to get, I'm mostly listening to NPR or the local Catholic station. I could write posts on those radio stations alone. I could write posts on all the posts I haven't written...I have done that. 

But what I'm getting at is this, perhaps I have been living under a rock, and all y'all have heard this song on the radio/iTunes 5 million times already, and it's just me standing out here outside the bubble...humming...

It's called 'Same Love' by Mackelmore & Ryan Lewis, but I like this cover/version by Paradise Fears:

Find it here.

It's catchy. It's memorable. It's even poetic. And also wildly inflammatory.

Let me be straight with you (ha.ha.), I don't support gay marriage. But this song has made me think a lot, which is probably one of its aims.  All too often in these heated, no-holds-barred debates on the BIG issues, we forget with whom we're fighting. We focus so much on the lines we have to hold and forget that the people on the other side are people too. 

This holds true for both sides (I'm an equal-opportunity chide-er!). I mean, even the song couldn't refrain (ha.ha.) from painting the opposite view as:

The right wing conservatives think it's a decision
And you can be cured with some treatment and religion
Man-made rewiring of a predisposition
Playing God...

Excuse me, but that's actually *not* what I think. (But that is probably a whole 'nother can of worms.)

I don't agree with the lifestyle this song promotes.  I don't think there should be homosexual marriage. I don't like the picture the song paints of those who feel the way I do. BUT, it does teach me something. We could all get a little further in life, in loving our neighbors, in getting our points across, when we take the time to put faces on the so-called other side. 

My weekly Radical Life email today emphasized this exactly.  Everyone we hate, each person who views the world differently than us, has his/her own inner battle:

It's probably a quiet, hidden battle that you'll never fully understand or perhaps ever know about. Their cry for help manifests itself as selfishness or closed-mindedness. As anger, defensiveness, ignorance, pride, aloofness, insecurity, rudeness, disinterest or malice.
Let all of that remind you that they are fighting a great battle. Be kind. 

"Be kind to everyone you meet, for every person is fighting a great battle." --St. Ephraim 

  --Matthew Warner, The Radical Life

The right-winged-closed-minded-bigot you hate for hating you...doesn't.  The screaming-feminist-child-murderer...isn't. There is history and hurt behind the eyes of the one whom you think you know so well. That guy with same-sex attraction was bullied for years. That woman with the "my body my choice" sign had an abortion that broke her heart. There are stories behind the slogans.

There is more to this than the cliched, "Can't we all just get along?".  We aren't ever all going to get along if we keep fighting in the same old ways. We have chasms between our worldviews at times, but it's time to recognize the face on the other side.  

He is our brother.

Stuff and Nonsense

A Serious Look at our Obsession with Distractions

Why "iwastesomuchtime.com" Takes the Cake

{joining Jen for day #4 of the blogging challenge}

I've had thoughts lately that I should write a serious blog post. As in, one that is not about dinner, kids terrorizing something (usually me), farm animals terrorizing me, or other such nonsense. But...that would be no fun, would it? I'd have to *think* about things, and about other's thoughts on things, and then write about them...and nobody wants that, do they?

People want more of this from their internets:

Teeheehee.

And less *actual* stuff like this, right?

For a lot of us, for a lot of the time, stuff like  iwastesomuchtime.com  and slowrobot.com and (::gasp::) facebook.com provide for us a good measure of distraction. [duh.] But what are we trying to be distracted from? I had a friend in grade/high school once tell me that she didn't like silence because it made her have to think about things. Important things.  

The reality is, that it’s a whole lot easier to consume the fluff than it is to pay attention, buckle down and do something, or be someone.

***

In Matthew Warner's Radical Life, he is in "messy pursuit" of the true, good, and beautiful. He's got a website, a FB page, and will send you weekly emails on "radical" living if you dare (or are naive enough to think you can handle it...like this sweet momma!).

He's already gotten me to change radically the way that I use Facebook. I narrowed down friends, and un-clicked "show in newsfeed" on almost everybody on my list. (So...if I missed your awesome witty status, I’m sorry...!) I deleted the Facebook app on my iPad. What have I gained? I have to be more deliberate about my FB use. It doesn't take FOR-ever to scroll mindlessly through my newsfeed anymore. I have to seek out friends to connect with. More time. More meaningful. Hmm...

***

In this week's installment of radical living, we are encouraged to avoid the minimum requirements on life:

As I get older, I find myself becoming more and more of a minimalist. I want less stuff. I want less distractions. I want less good things in my life in order to make more room for the best things in life.  I'm becoming a big fan of that kind of minimalism.  But minimalism can also be bad. Like when it causes us to only put in the minimal amount of effort toward the most important things in our lives.  What's the least I can do and still be a good friend, husband or father? What's the least I can work and still be thought a good worker? What's the least I can give and still be considered a generous person?

True that, double true that. What's the least amount I can do, and still have time for me? Still have money for my own indulgences; still have energy for my projects?

It gets harder, folks:

It's even more insidious when we inevitably apply this attitude to our faith. What are the minimal requirements to still be considered a good Christian? What's the least I can do and still get to heaven?This minimalist approach will steal the sweetness from your life and ultimately make it boring, mediocre and unfulfilling.

And, here's the kicker: 

Rather, we should instead be asking what's the most I can do for my spouse? What's the most I can give to others? What's the most I can do for my friends and my children? That's where the bar should be set.

There are days (a lot of days) when my recent text to my sister holds true: "ennui doesn't even begin to describe it". It takes a lot to step out of ourselves, to get over our inner whiny, selfish self and do the most. It is So. Dang. Hard. But that's what we are called to do. We aren't called to be lukewarm. We aren't called to be pretty good at life. We're called to give it all, do the most, exceed the limits.

When I got this week's "Radical" email, I emailed my dear friend Marie right away. (She's the one who got me into this mess, after all!)  I complained that it was hard. Her response: "Yep. We're called to simply be the best. Sounds so easy, yet is so hard." 

Why it is that we’d rather spend our precious minutes scrolling through stuff like this:

Breakfast with Ron Swanson.

than making more time for those we love, (or at least sweeping up after them!) and the pursuits that will make us holier, I am not sure. (It's a whole lot easier, for one thing...) But what I am certain of is that when we do give up on the fluff, there is more room for the true, the good, and the beautiful. However messy it comes.

7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 1)

7 Quick Takes Friday

("7 Quick Takes Friday" was started and is hosted

by blogger Jennifer Fulwiler at Conversion Diary)

So, if you stopped by for a visit today, here's what you'd get from me.  Thoughts on several things, all connecting in my brain...swirling around and--here ya go. 

-1-

BABIES - the world needs more of them.

Read: "America's Baby Bust" by Jonathan V. Last in The Wall Street Journal

Nope, not kidding. The whole over-population-crowding out the globe thing just isn’t the case. In fact, we’re shrinking, and have been since the early 1970s (ring a bell, anyone?), with only a slight blip of growth called the Baby Boom.  With contracting populations come economic problems, go figure. 

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death." 

--from Rudyard Kipling’s ‘The Gods of the Copybook Headings

-2-

Tolerance – see the other post--I got too long-winded for comment here...

-3-

Could you ever resist this smile?

I am reminded again this week how blessed I am to have a team-mate in this parenting adventure. Steve has been away to Texas for work—and “single-mom” is just...hard!

-4-

I almost forgot to say something controversial about guns. I’ll let Ted do it for me. There’s also "The Gun is Civilization" by Maj. L. Caudill, USMC (Ret), which you can find here.

-5-

Lent is coming! (--look busy!)

Look here for suggestions on the prayer, fasting, almsgiving J

-6-

And here my late-night blogging was interrupted by Leo’s late-night hollering and my discovery of his spiking a fever L. Having sick kiddos is not fun, and can often be scary for Mommas; I think this is largely in part because they can’t really tell you what is wrong.  And on this note, did you know that February 11^th is World Day of the Sick? and that the sick and their care-givers can get a plenary indulgence? Yup. That’s right. Oh, you didn’t realize indulgencies were still a thing? Yes indeedy.

-7-

I’ll leave you with a pep talk for your day.

“You got air coming through your nose!”

"Real & Costly Love"

TOLERANCE:

     What I mean in general is the cry of “Foul!” from the world around us that says Christians are not living by our own standards, or are being intolerant, bigoted, unfair, unjust etc. etc. The fact of the matter is that we are intolerant, and should be.  Consider the words of the late Archbishop Fulton Sheen:

Christian love bears evil, but it does not tolerate it.  It does penance for the sins of others, but it is not broadminded about sin.  The cry for tolerance never induces it to quench its hatred of the evil philosophies that have entered into contest with the Truth.  It forgives the sinner, and it hates the sin; it is unmerciful to the error in his mind.  The sinner it will always take back into the bosom of the Mystical Body; but his lie will never be taken into the treasury of His Wisdom.  Real love involves real hatred: whoever has lost the power of moral indignation and the urge to drive the buyers and sellers from the temples has also lost a living, fervent love of Truth.  Charity, then, is not a mild philosophy of "live and let live"; it is not a species of sloppy sentiment.  Charity is the infusion of the Spirit of God, which makes us love the beautiful and hate the morally ugly. 

 Tolerance is an attitude of reasoned patience toward evil … a forbearance that restrains us from showing anger or inflicting punishment. Tolerance applies only to persons … never to truth. Tolerance applies to the erring, intolerance to the error … Architects are as intolerant about sand as foundations for skyscrapers as doctors are intolerant about germs in the laboratory.  Tolerance does not apply to truth or principles. About these things we must be intolerant, and for this kind of intolerance, so much needed to rouse us from sentimental gush, I make a plea. Intolerance of this kind is the foundation of all stability.

I feel largely inadequate to speak very eloquently here, especially as I know that others have spoken plainly what I myself think (--if only I had the time/words to say it like that!), but two things have come up in this vein this week:

a.       The Boy Scouts of America debating a decision on whether to allow openly homosexual members and leaders.

b.       A post I saw (which was not intended to be taken the way I took it) that said that “Love is Acceptance regardless of Flaws or anything else”

And herein lies the problem. We have a difference of definitions here. For the Christian, to love someone must mean to love their very person, their innate created and unique self-hood, their infinitely precious mind, heart and soul—but not their faults.  Plainly put, love does not, and must not tolerate sin.  

     Now, I realize that there is WAY MORE to the story than I am delving into here--you can thank my two beautiful, getting into everything all day long boyos for that--way more including broken hearts and burned bridges and torn up families. I do not mean to steamroll any of this. There is also a great deal of harm done to others in the name of Good and Love that needs to be repaired. The brokenness surrounding this issue tears at my heart.  But please--do not ask me to tolerate it. Ask me to love you, and I will, though that is indeed the harder task for us both.

"Our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner - no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment."  --C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory

     

NFP Awareness Week...

Betcha didn't know there was a week for NFP. Then again, there's a week for everything. Anyways, I'm impressed with the folks over at www.1flesh.org and www.iuseNFP.com, check them out. They are witty and fun and have lots of science and cool graphics going for them.

All Souls Day

It was a particularly trying All Souls Day for me.  I work night shift (10-6) at a nursing home 3 nights/week.  I worked last night into this morning, and at the very end of the shift, there was an emergency, and one of my residents ended up dying in the hospital after leaving the facility.  It was a whirlwind of rushing around, trying to remember all of the right protocols, trying to assess the situation, trying to act like I was in charge, and it was all over within the hour. 

Reflecting upon the situation on my drive home, I realized that today was All Souls Day.  The first time that I have a death of a resident on my shift, and its the day on which we pray for and remember the dead. 

There is a lot to be desired in the healthcare industry.  It is so surreal to me that the emergency situation was over, and I had been notified of my resident's death within an hour.  It took two plus more hours after that to document properly what had occurred.  "If it isn't documented, it didn't happen." The legal constraints which bind us are often helpful and necessary, but all too often they are cumbersome and frustrating.  It felt stark and robotic to spend that time with paperwork. 

However, I am hopeful that my presence as a nurse is developing and pruning my soul as well as being a balm to those I care for.  I was able to pray for my resident during the emergency, and afterwards to lift up her soul as well. 

I hope that my work may be a prayer, that my life may be a light.