It’s 12:04 AM now. The start of a new day. My brother Dante’s family has just left, along with my brother Steve, after a great dinner that Richelle put together. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep and waking up with her, and Xena our puppy. Drinking coffee together. Opening gifts. Going to church. Then spending the day with her family.
I used to hate Christmas. To me it was a holiday that could only be enjoyed by those who had ‘normal’ lives – people with functioning families – which mine was not. My memories of Christmas past are filled with Salvation Army Santas visiting us, with credit cards driving my mom to bankruptcy, of a sense of what we did not have – of greed.
So if Christmas is about being joyful with no reason to it – then from the perspective I came from – it was bullshit. Like the line in “I Will Buy You A New Life” says: I hate those people who love to tell you, Money is the root of all that kills, They have never been poor, They have never had the joy of a welfare christmas
So here I am now – with a paying job – with a family as normal as one can get – and I am thankful. I don’t feel I deserve to be this blessed. I struggle with that sometimes. But most important – it’s only from *this* perspective that I can see that if a sad soul like myself can make it to a place like this – then anyone can. That God has a place for all of us. Something I most certainly didn’t believe as a kid.
via Slacktivist came a reminder of “My Advent Adventure”, by Anne Lamott. A good read, it influenced this post, a reminder of what Christmas is about:
All of a sudden, the man in front of me soils himself. I guess his sphincter just relaxes. Shit runs down onto his shoes, but he keeps walking. He doesn’t seem to notice.
“However, I do. I clapped a hand over my mouth and nose, and my eyes bugged out but I couldn’t get out of line because of the crush behind me. And so, holding my breath, I walk into the windowless, airless room.
“Now, this meeting has a greeter, which is a person who stands at the door saying hello. And this one is a biker with a shaved head, a huge gut and a Volga boatman mustache. He gets one whiff of the man with shit on his shoes and throws up all over everything.
“You’ve seen the Edvard Munch painting of the guy on the bridge screaming, right? That’s me. That’s what I look like. But Terry enters theroom right behind me. And there’s total pandemonium, no one knows what to do.The man who had soiled himself stumbles forward and plops down in a chair. A fan blows the terrible smells of shit and vomit around the windowless room,and people start smoking just to fill in the spaces in the air. Finally Terry reaches out to the greeter, who had thrown up. He puts his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Wow,” he says. “Looks like you got caught by surprise.” And they both laugh. Right? Terry asks a couple of guys to go with him down the hall to the men’s room, and help this guy get cleaned up. There are towels there, and kitty litter, to absorb various effluvia, because this is a meeting where people show up routinely in pretty bad shape. So while they’re helping the greeter get cleaned up, other people start cleaning up the meeting room. Then Terry approaches the other man.
“My friend,” he says gently, “it looks like you have trouble here.”
The man just nods.
“We’re going to give you a hand,” says Terry.
“So three men from the recovery house next door help him to his feet, walk him to the halfway house and put him in the shower. They wash hisclothes and shoes and give him their things to wear while he waits. They give him coffee and dinner, and they give him respect. I talked to these other men later, and even though they had very little sobriety, they did not cast this other guy off for not being well enough to be there. Some how this broken guy was treated like one of them, because they could see that he was one of them. No one was pretending he wasn’t covered with shit, but there wasa real sense of kinship. And that is what we mean when we talk about grace.
“Back at the meeting at the Episcopal Cathedral, I was just totally amazed by what I had seen. And I had a little shred of hope. I couldn’t have put it into words, but until that meeting, I had thought that I would recover with men and women like myself; which is to say, over educated, fun to be with and housebroken. And that this would happen quickly and efficiently. But I was wrong. So I’ll tell you what the promise of Advent is: It is that God has set up a tent among us and will help us work together on our stuff. And this will only happen over time.
“For you, Crabby Miss, and for me; together, over time.”
Merry Christmas. May there be peace on earth and good will towards all.
Karl,
I’ve read up on survivor guilt. I have a little of it and I think you have a lot. We aren’t where we are because we did something or the people who aren’t here because they didn’t. It is a little luck and a lot of grace. That can make it easier to accept sometimes. Other times it can make it harder. Sleep peacefully.
Karl – Man, where did that weekend go!
The first post after is tough!
I think I forgot how to type! LOL
Hope you had a good xmas. Peace bro!
– Neo
It’s possible I have survivor guilt. I’ve thought about it before…nevertheless – I don’t want to forget where I came from.
I *do* think we have a role to play in where we are in life – but it’s not the entire story – by far – and if that’s the gist of what you got of my post – well it just goes to show how bad a writer I am. One of the reason’s I don’t do it very often.
Fact is very bad things happen to very good people every day. At the same time we can’t deny the choices we make or the people who have effected us along my way. It’s all part of the story.
Karl,
My comments reflected your posting probably less than they reflected my own lense on life. What ran through my head when I read it was grief over my former stepbrother who took his own life the year we were both 29. I always think why was it him and not me? Because I was lucky. I think about “my” homeless guy who died a little over a year ago, also a suicide and I grieve for him and think of how our lives were similar and how they were different. My husband and I sometimes play a game we call “are we smart or are we lucky” where we talk about the choices we have made and the things we’ve never had to deal with and what would happen if we had. It makes me realize how fortunate we have been. I can’t know what you intended when you wrote but those are the thoughts your posting invoked in me.
I don’t know what to say about what you must have went thru. Dealing with the death of a loved one is one thing – but it’s especially terrible when it happens like this. Neo, in this thread, has faced similar with the death of his brother. A very close friend of mine lost his father to suicide. And if you can believe it, I was surrounded by it as a child. But never personally touched. I don’t share my childhood online – so take that as it may. Maybe someday over a drink at a meetup.
I do ask this question very often – you’re right – it is reflected in my post.
This is the aniversary of the tsunami:
http://thestormtrack.com/archives/2005/12/the_boxing_day.html
I don’t think choice or luck is adequate an explanation. I don’t know what is.
In a way – I’ve rationalized my not knowing. But it doesn’t help all that much.
I must have re-wrote that previous comment ten times.
Perhaps we are both being too philosophical. Given the choice of being here grieving and being in the box, I’ll take grief. Sorry if that sounds flippant. But I do see so many people who died too early or those whose choices have altered or shortened their lives beyond repair and I wonder why I’m sitting in my nice (small, but nice) house, with a spouse of many years, and kids who are healthy, with a little money in the bank. It’s too much pressure to think it’s my own doing, because that means a mistake could undo it. And thinking it is a fluke is too unsettling, so I chose to think it is grace and try to be thankful as much and as often as possible. I apologize if my comments disturbed you. Your posting spoke to me so I commented.
“Given the choice of being here grieving and being in the box, I’ll take grief. Sorry if that sounds flippant.”
Nah – I agree with you!
“It’s too much pressure to think it’s my own doing, because that means a mistake could undo it. And thinking it is a fluke is too unsettling, so I chose to think it is grace and try to be thankful as much and as often as possible.”
Here is where we disagree. I feel you make important choices everyday that yes – partially determine if you are going to lose – or cherish – it all.
I have this thing I used to say:
“We play the hand we are delt – and God’s the dealer. But it’s up to us to play our hand.”
Sometimes you are delt a hand that is terrible, sometimes not. But you play it. Even if it amounts to nothing more than a facial expression or thought at the time.
I try to never venture a guess as to why God makes the decisions He does. I feel bad for people that get caught up in thinking along those lines.
You see – I *must* believe this – and am thankful the belief took hold while I was young – otherwise – well – I would have let my circumstances determine my fate – and I know you would not be speaking to me right now.
He might still decide to take me tomorrow – or tonight – someday he definately will – so yes – I am very, very thankful for the hands He’s been dealing me of late. As I said in my post – I consider myself blessed.
“I apologize if my comments disturbed you. Your posting spoke to me so I commented.”
You definately didn’t disturb me 🙂 I *like* conversations like this – I can have them for hours into the heart of the morning – and I like connecting like this when it happens. It’s rare.
Karl,
You’re more of an optimist than I am. 😉 I agree that we meet decision points many times a day but it’s impossible to make the “right” choice each time. Sometimes we get a chance for a “redo” but sometimes not. “My” homeless guy was mine because it was one of the few times I felt a divine imperative. I was assigned to take care of him and the day I felt this, the not-so-subtle suggestion that I buy that particular guy a cup of coffee, I got caught up in getting settled in my office and when I went back out to find him he was gone. He didn’t reappear for two days and those were very long days for me. I had felt a divine imperative and I botched it. When the guy showed up again I nearly fell all over him, buying him breakfast and coffee. Over the next year I looked after him as much as he would let me, until he died. I got a chance for a redo on that decision but on others I haven’t, and there have been consequences of some of those bad decisions.
It’s a tricky business. And there are a thousand chances every day to make mistakes, big or small. I just try not to think about it. Believing in grace lets me off the hook for some of the bad decisions, or gives me the occasional chance for a redo.
Maybe if more folks took a chance like you did – the world would be a better place.
As for bad decisions – I understand entirely. As “We are the champions” says… “and bad mistakes, I’ve made few”.. and as far as I’m concerned… that’s putting it ummmm…. lightly 🙂
Death is never understood. Maybe people believe differently about suicide. Yes, my brother killed himself. That was his choice not God’s. That’s the thing about life, those choices are ours and nobody else’s.
Sometimes people get to this low point in their life where nothing can stop them. They make their cry for help, and when they aren’t heard they make that final plunge into the next phase.
It isn’t to be explained. No amount of tears or prayers can bring them back. Then they are left to live in our memories and hearts. Julie, people tend to think in the terms of “What if’s.” What if I was home that day? What if I called?
I don’t think we’ll ever truly understand why they die. Men fail, or sometimes they just lose the will to go on.
Is it guilt? Or regret? Or people being selfish? We want them with us forever, and maybe we feel cheated that those moments are taken from us.
When my brother died, I cried, and I did the list of common questions. As I reflect back on those tears and moments now, I don’t feel there is anything in this world that myself nor anyone else could have done to stop what happened.
Neo,
What bothered me about my former step brother’s death, and what I learned from it, was significant. I hadn’t seen him in 10 years, since our parents had divorced, and hadn’t seen much of him during the decade they were married. I had always thought of him as one of the smartest, coolest, savviest people I had ever met. And one of these days I intended to look him up and renew whatever friendship we had established during our relatively brief relationship-by-parental-marriage. But, you know, there was lots of time so no rush. After he died I found out that for years we have lived less than 2 hours apart. I didn’t think there was really anything that I could have done to change things, but I mourned the time that could have been spent in his company. No time with him was time wasted. Now I try to say what should be said at the time, however hokey it sounds and however poorly I say it. Because, you know, sometimes there isn’t lots of time.
So, you know, Karl, thanks for all your work on Philly Future. It must take up a lot of your time and money and energy. It really provides the aggregate material that holds the regional blogging community together. And thanks, Neo, for your thoughts and understanding.
Julie – I know it’s tough, but remember the good moment. Not a problem. Anytime! *hug*
Karl – Take a look at JBI if you get a chance I put something up there you might like.
Nice work. Ya know that was the first song I learned to play.