It is dark outside, in the cozy way it is dark early these days. I am standing at the stove, stirring three pounds of ground turkey in a sizzling pot for chili. Petra is sitting on the living room couch, earbuds engaged, watching/ reading/ surfing something or other on her laptop.
As I stir the turkey, mixing in the chopped onions and peppers, I am crying. Quietly. If Petra were to catch me crying I would be mortified.
I am crying because Petra has told me, in no uncertain terms, that she will not do something with me. What it is, is not important. It was a mother-daughter bonding thing, in days of yore. It is something we enjoyed together quite a lot, once upon a time. I have just spent about 10 minutes cajoling, mock-threatening, whining to get her to agree to do it with me. But she is resolved. Petra the 17 year old will not do what Petra the 16 year old would, or the 15 year old. She is done, with that particular mother-daughter bonding activity. She is not interested.
I am crushed. Crushed beyond all reason, quite frankly. As I stir and cry I frantically ask myself what on earth it is that is so devastating to me about this. And the answer is so simple. She is growing up, which means, by definition, that she is growing away. It is all so developmentally appropriate. It is what is supposed to happen to young adults. They differentiate, they individuate. They become who they are, in some measure, by clarifying who they are not. Who Petra is not, today, is someone who wants to do that thing with her mom any more. She doesn't want to do it any more. She did, but now she doesn't.
And that is a loss for me, such a loss it has me crying over the chili. Such a loss, such a blow, it has me contemplating revenge, such as.... being cold. Refusing to watch "Glee" with her. Making her walk to school.
I blow my nose, and pull myself together. I will do this thing I enjoy by myself, or with a friend. Maybe with Beloved. I will recognize that Petra has the right not to do something she won't find enjoyable now (even though she did before). I will rejoice and be glad that I have this amazing daughter, this beautiful and accomplished young woman with a mind of her own who does not feel enslaved or trapped by her mother's feelings. I will be grateful for the adult being born in the child. I will buck up, for heaven's sake. As I throw the beans into the pot Petra comes into the kitchen, and she lays her head on the back of my neck.
Mom, will you still love me even though I don't want to do that?
I spin around and give her a fierce hug. Of course, I will. I give her a big smack on the top of her head. Of course I will love you, forever and always no matter what. I'm sorry I gave you even a moment's doubt about that. And we both laugh. Good, she says. Frankly, I was a little worried. And we laugh again.
Birth is hard.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Advent 1 Wednesday: Advent In My Ear
This is what I'm listening to. I love its harshness. I rejected a version by another group I really like because it was too sweet. This is not a sweet song. The "O" antiphons, on which this is based, arise from fierce longing.
Fierce longing.
Fierce longing.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Advent 1 Tuesday: World Aids Day
Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.
Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky.
~ Psalm 85:9-11
I grew up across the street from a body shop. It was owned by two guys, Jim and Terry. Jim was a family man, married to a local girl, father of two. Terry was single.
Terry was also my brother's best friend, despite the differences in their ages... 12 years. My brother and Terry shared a love for fishing, ice hockey, and jazz. Terry taught my brother a lot about car engines. Terry came over to our house for dinner, a lot, so much so that my parents took to calling him "number two son."
When my brother was away at college, something happened. Fairly typically, I was left out of the loop, but Terry and my parents spent long hours sitting together at the kitchen table, drinking glasses of beer, talking in low voices. The following weekend my brother came home. It was only after he went back to school that my mother let me know what was going on: Terry was gay. My parents had found out, and they thought Terry "owed it to my brother" to tell him. So, he had, and now, everything was more or less back to normal. New normal. Sort of like Beloved and me having Thanksgiving dinner with my dad.
When I was in college Terry settled down with a partner. Not long after that we learned that he was sick; he had full-blown AIDS. He lived three more years. His partner nursed him tenderly to the end. Then, after Terry died, his parents kicked the partner out of the house (it was in Terry's name and he didn't have a will). (My parents, not liberal by a long shot, were shocked by that.) Terry missed the AIDS "cocktails" by just a year or two. If the onset of his disease had just been a bit slower... but it was not.
Praying tonight, in Terry's memory, for a time when righteousness and peace will kiss; when steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; and when salvation will be at hand for all those who mourn.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Advent 1 Monday: Shards of Glass and Hiding Under the Porch
Adam lay ybounden...
Such grand plans. Plans so grand I hadn't mentioned them here because, then I might be held accountable for them. And if there's anything I don't need right now it's more accountability.
My plans: to have an Advent journal here. Perhaps to reflect upon the daily lectionary readings, which I have followed only sporadically since Lent. (Remember Lent?) This morning I was to begin.
... bounden in a bond...
Except, this morning had me running around in Beloved's car because mine was vandalized last evening as it sat outside a church, while I was inside listening to a gorgeous choral concert in which Petra was singing (I was supposed to be singing too, but I have a sinus infection and laryngitis). I had to go to the body shop, and I had to be on the phone with my insurance agent and my claim representative because, while I was listening to this last night, someone decided to fill the backseat of my car with shards of glass.
...four thousand winter, thought he not too long....
I was curiously unmoved by the violation. After the week... a busy week, with lots of driving and lots of emotion... Beloved and I went to my dad's house for Thanksgiving dinner.... Beloved. And I. And my Dad. Just ponder that for a moment.
... and all was for an apple, an apple that he took
as clerkes finden, written in their book ....
... and then, having laryngitis, and struggling not just to write but to deliver the sermon... promising myself an afternoon of rest, of Advent-sabbath while I enjoyed the concert (Lessons and Carols for Advent and Christmas).... I reacted to the site of the green shards all through the back seat of my car with something approaching indifference. Petra was much more shocked than I was. She was on the phone with Beloved... we were arranging a dinner rendezvous, and Beloved got to hear us react to the glass in real time. She suggested Petra hang up and dial 911.
...Ne had the apple taken been, the apple taken been...
Anyway, that's my excuse. Or rather, those are my excuses. I couldn't blog the lectionary readings because my car got broken into. Or, because I had laryngitis. Or because I coughed for an hour before the alarm went off this morning. Or because I helped Beloved at work today.
... ne had never Our Ladye a been heaven e-queen....
Tonight Petra and I had our first home cooked dinner in weeks. Weeks, I tell you. It wasn't much... chicken and some brown rice and vegetables. She asked if we could watch "Up." She had just received it from her brother, a late birthday present. We watched it and I fell in love-- head-over-heels in love-- with Doug the Dog. At one point he says to the crotchety old man Carl (who looks disconcertingly like my Dad.... seriously.... the spitting image...):
"I've been hiding under your porch because I love you."
Which may be the story of this year's Advent. I suspect God can deal with my evasions and meanderings. I suspect God can deal with my inattention and faltering steps, my best-laid-plans and delusions of grandeur. God is tenacious. God is hiding-under-the-porch-because-I-love-you tenacious. Waiting patiently for my attention.
Blessed be the time that apple taken was!
Therefore we moun singen, Deo gracias!
Such grand plans. Plans so grand I hadn't mentioned them here because, then I might be held accountable for them. And if there's anything I don't need right now it's more accountability.
My plans: to have an Advent journal here. Perhaps to reflect upon the daily lectionary readings, which I have followed only sporadically since Lent. (Remember Lent?) This morning I was to begin.
... bounden in a bond...
Except, this morning had me running around in Beloved's car because mine was vandalized last evening as it sat outside a church, while I was inside listening to a gorgeous choral concert in which Petra was singing (I was supposed to be singing too, but I have a sinus infection and laryngitis). I had to go to the body shop, and I had to be on the phone with my insurance agent and my claim representative because, while I was listening to this last night, someone decided to fill the backseat of my car with shards of glass.
...four thousand winter, thought he not too long....
I was curiously unmoved by the violation. After the week... a busy week, with lots of driving and lots of emotion... Beloved and I went to my dad's house for Thanksgiving dinner.... Beloved. And I. And my Dad. Just ponder that for a moment.
... and all was for an apple, an apple that he took
as clerkes finden, written in their book ....
... and then, having laryngitis, and struggling not just to write but to deliver the sermon... promising myself an afternoon of rest, of Advent-sabbath while I enjoyed the concert (Lessons and Carols for Advent and Christmas).... I reacted to the site of the green shards all through the back seat of my car with something approaching indifference. Petra was much more shocked than I was. She was on the phone with Beloved... we were arranging a dinner rendezvous, and Beloved got to hear us react to the glass in real time. She suggested Petra hang up and dial 911.
...Ne had the apple taken been, the apple taken been...
Anyway, that's my excuse. Or rather, those are my excuses. I couldn't blog the lectionary readings because my car got broken into. Or, because I had laryngitis. Or because I coughed for an hour before the alarm went off this morning. Or because I helped Beloved at work today.
... ne had never Our Ladye a been heaven e-queen....
Tonight Petra and I had our first home cooked dinner in weeks. Weeks, I tell you. It wasn't much... chicken and some brown rice and vegetables. She asked if we could watch "Up." She had just received it from her brother, a late birthday present. We watched it and I fell in love-- head-over-heels in love-- with Doug the Dog. At one point he says to the crotchety old man Carl (who looks disconcertingly like my Dad.... seriously.... the spitting image...):
"I've been hiding under your porch because I love you."
Which may be the story of this year's Advent. I suspect God can deal with my evasions and meanderings. I suspect God can deal with my inattention and faltering steps, my best-laid-plans and delusions of grandeur. God is tenacious. God is hiding-under-the-porch-because-I-love-you tenacious. Waiting patiently for my attention.
Blessed be the time that apple taken was!
Therefore we moun singen, Deo gracias!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Advent 1: A Hard and Haunting Season
It has begun.
The season of expectation.
The thing is, we think we know what we're waiting for.
I believe we are almost always wrong.
God's grace is more astounding, beautiful, hard and haunting than we expect.
262728“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
~ Luke 21:25-28
Three years ago this song became forever associated, in my mind, with the early apocalpytic texts for Advent. I made it the basis for a sermon preached at our local, wonderful Metropolitan Community Church.
A blessed season to you all, my friends.
The season of expectation.
The thing is, we think we know what we're waiting for.
I believe we are almost always wrong.
God's grace is more astounding, beautiful, hard and haunting than we expect.
262728“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
~ Luke 21:25-28
Three years ago this song became forever associated, in my mind, with the early apocalpytic texts for Advent. I made it the basis for a sermon preached at our local, wonderful Metropolitan Community Church.
A blessed season to you all, my friends.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
