October 10, 9pm: I continue to really struggle with whatever sickness I am dealing with. With that being the case I am not feeling like getting lots done is a reasonable expectation. I am just rather happy to make a little progress on what is in front of me. I found myself in quite an interesting space late this afternoon as I tuned into a new podcast and got washing dishes that had piled up over the days. The podcast was hosted by Kate Bowler, a pastor, cancer survivor and very thoughtful human being. She was interviewing N.T. Wright, a person of some fame in theological circles. As I worked away, there were some really nice realities going on. The house was really peaceful and the sun was coming in. The fall scenery outside my windows makes me feel good, because I really like fall. The fact that I have been sick for most of three days, laying low and feeling quite off led me to a tender spot within myself. The fact that I was making progress on a job that I often let get ahead of me, my kitchen, and supper was well underway, well that created a certain peace. Into this setting I heard Kate ask her guest a question. Was it the tone in her voice, the content of the question, the space I was in or a a bit of all three, I don’t know, but the question hit me to the core. I rewound the pod and listened to the question three times. She said to Mr. Wright, “What was your first clue that this was the kind of person you were going to end up being?” Even as I re-read that question now I am stunned by it. It must be the content of it, because I don’t have her tone in my ears right now. As I chopped salad ingredients and thought about this in my own life I realized there are really two questions in the one. 1. What kind of person have I ended up being? and 2. What was my first clue that I was heading this way? I have always been analytical, curious about myself and what makes the world go round, so her question really landed well with me. Perhaps it landed well because although I am now firmly in middle age I feel like my life continues to put things in front of me that test what kind of a person I am being. Am I a rancher? A minister? A writer? A singer? A counselor? Which part of this will grow and which part will shrink? What do I want? I think there is a thread that weaves through everything and that is maybe truly the answer to what kind of person I have ended up being. I don’t succeed at this consistently, and when I fail its pretty clear, but I do want to come to ranching, ministering, writing, singing and talking with people with the message, “I want to see you,” not in a nosy way, but I want to be a listener, I want to offer space for what you need to say, I want to embody the gifts that God gives me, hope, joy, peace and love. I mess up alot. But somewhere along the way this has become the goal for “the kind of person I have ended up being.”
What was the first clue that I was headed this way? Who knows right? What have I forgotten? (Lots and lots to be honest!) Perhaps the memories that really stick with us are very telling though. As I was chopping the broccoli I got thinking about my job back when I was 17, until I was 22. I was a nurses aide at The Saskatoon Convalescent Home. It was a super meaningful experience for me, it created the setting for the most embarassing moment of my life which is a fun story to share and it also tested me in ways that were really helpful. I think it also offered me my first clues, and one very specific one. I have a memory of a day when I found myself with a little extra time and I was checking in on my residents. I got to sit and talk with one. For some reason she started to talk about her life before old age. It had been hard. There had been abuse. She was working through something. I mostly listened. I was probably 19 at the time, but I remember walking out of that room, stunned that she had confided in me, and grasping that my future needed to include more of that. That might have been the first clue.
As I worked more with the salad and back to the dishpan I was dying to stop everything and write, but I had men coming in that would be hungry. I could not. The writing now has been a way of teasing out what got mixed up with the broccoli salad as I chopped away. I share it because I think the question that started it all, “What was your first clue that this was the kind of person you were going to end up being?” is such an invitational question. Do any of the readers want to have those same words in front of them for a bit? How would you answer that question?
I want to add that I notice that my answer to the question holds no reference to my primary roles in life as a wife and mother, the stuff that goes on in my own four walls. I seem to have interpreted Kate’s question as relating to life in the world, I am too tired to analyze why I went that direction with it. Doesn’t matter really anyways.
Wednesday, 7:30am: I am including this picture because it was a fun moment from the day. I had alot of socks to match up yesterday as Morg, Russ and I were all getting low and that was a priority for the laundry. Its a good quiet job and I find it very, very satisifying to make order out of chaos. Russ is very particular about his socks. He likes them to be colorful and lightweight so that his feet don’t get overheated. He gets attached to certain ones. He is also not pleased with my system of managing odd socks. So as our lunch hour wound down yesterday he wondered very seriously if I could get serious about the odd sock situation. (Your’e learning something about Russ here aren’t you?). I was up for the challenge. It was with some glee that I sent him a picture of the odd socks and the stats arising from the reunions that happened. But this picture was the most significant. A while ago I had tried to throw out these blue socks with red dots and trim when it was clear they were threadbare. Russ was appalled. They were special to him. In the last month they got separated from each other. Russ was sad about this. So when my odd sock efforts meant this reunion and return to Russell’s sock drawer, this picture was sent to Russ. It was greeted with celebration. When Russell came in the door for supper, Morg had arrived a bit earlier, and from the porch Russ called out, “Morgan, did you hear the greatest news of the day?” Morgan had not. I didn’t know what Russ was talking about. I said, “you mean that Shutterfly sent me an extra plate?” No, that wasn’t it. “Your mother got my favorite socks back together!”
There are three things that are holy about this post. First is the obvious. Holey socks. Next is Russell’s incredible quality of being the last guy to give up on anyone or anything. When he does give up you know something significant is broken. That reminds me of the Bible stories of the lost sheep, the Prodigal son and the widows coin. People and socks are not disposable in Russell’s world. This is holy. Last, its a holy journey to keep working at figuring out our calling. That maybe seems a minister-y way of saying that. Another way of wording it……it’s a holy journey to keep figuring out how we are especially equipped to live to make a difference to the world. In the midst of that, tracing the movements of the Spirit and the clues we are given, can be a source of awe. Awe often feels very holy.
So, if you like, here is Kate’s question one more time. “What was your first clue that this was the kind of person you were going to end up being?”
Happy Wednesday!
As Far As The Eye Can See 