Reflecting

On Jan. 1 (2008), the New York Times had a column called "The New Year's Cocktail: Regret with a Dash of Bitters" by Benedict Carey about reflecting on our past experiences and the process of maturing as adults, which I found very thought-provoking. Emotionally healthy folks tend to look at what was gained in past situations when they might have chosen differently were they to have that choice again at the present. I guess it's a reminder to see god/the good in situations instead of spending energy in blame or regret, and to look at the bigger picture.

For example, had I gotten a job other than the one I have currently, I probably would not have had the energy to make a marriage--and this is a relationship I cherish more than any other. I'm inexpressibly grateful every day for A.

And I get thanked in my job fairly often, e.g., today I received this: "What a thoughtful email and helpful service you are offering! I am not sure if my students will be able to use Library helps as it's a skills class, but I was really impressed with the potential of the resources you suggest. Have a great semester. Thanks for all you do, [X]." Whereas I can imagine fielding many more complaints with fewer rewards if I were in any of the other positions I had applied for in the past 3 years.

I had a fairly quiet and quite restful holiday: I got to read a lot while eating fudge and cookies and watching the bird life at the feeders, walk in the woods, and cross-country ski.

OK, enough PollyAnna--those of you who know me know I'd rather complain than breathe some days! So I'll get back to it now--anyone passing by who'd like to stop in for some "blue air"?
; )

Quiet period

Sorry for the long period of quiet...I haven't felt like I had anything pithy or even interesting to write. Trying to tie up loose ends at work--exploring databases for my liaison areas and ordering new library materials, trying to resolve format issues for our library faculty annual report with the development & retention committee, dialoguing about how to conduct the personnel reviews coming up next semester, choosing the recipient of the Pew Excellence Award for Library Faculty. A new and exciting project involves working with the LGBT Resource Center to create its library--they're lucky to have a grad assistant who has library acquisitions experience.

What I've been reading lately: a Celtic fantasy called Darkhenge by Catherine Fisher--what I would call fantastical realism, where myth and contemporary world intersect and where the conscious and subconscious cross; and "inspirational" novels about the Amish by Beverly Lewis. I've been wondering why the novels about Plain folks appeal so much to me. I like modern conveniences, my Quaker community and beliefs, wearing pants rather than skirts, individuality, my lesbian marriage. Maybe it is the appeal of the "other" who can seem so different and yet can still have the same types of emotional quandaries I do.

I'm looking forward to my days off between Dec. 21 and Jan 1 and yet I already know it won't seem long enough. My wealth of friends and family means traveling on both weekends. In between, I hope to read more novels (!), walk in the woods, and bake. Oh, and help A with her portfolio, as she needs/requests, but to stay out of it until asked.

Cold Tuesday

Dratty cold virus has me back in bed at home (OK, sitting up in bed right now) with a very sore throat. I knew as soon as we left the driveway that I should have stayed home in bed, but I spent the morning profitably finding Arabic booksellers. I've settled on 3: Multicultural Books will buy titles we specify in several languages, provide a transliteration card and an OCLC number; Schoenhof's will do the 1st two items; and Al Kitab (Middle Eastern materials only; can't tell what they will provide, but their website is in English and they list their materials offered, with transliterations, for the U.S. buyer).

OK, now how about sheet music vendors who will provide cataloging as well?

Back to sleep now, really. : (

Autumn gratitudes

This week we were at the Michigan Library Association Annual Conference, and the programs were better than I had anticipated (based on experiences of past years). I came away with a few ideas and a better understanding that being a librarian is more about connection and relationship than providing resources. A & I had dinner with friends Ann & Mike and all of us enjoyed it so much that we're looking forward to getting together again. Turns out that they were the mysterious "anonymous" donors to Big Pink! We also dined with several other librarians and Jessamyn West, who gave a very fun and lively talk on Thursday.

Driving home, I felt filled with fall colors, faded past brilliant but still with yellows gathering the light, browns of maroon and chestnut and umber and beech. I came home and saw that we have a row of flame-red bushes that I had forgotten about. Thanks to a friend, we also came home to clean windows around the house. Before we left town, after lunch at an excellent little cafe called Crumpets, A & I stopped at Elderly Instruments and I played a $4300 viola--warm, mellow, resonant. I've heard violas like that but had never played one. I don't play often enough to warrant making such an investment now, but if I were rich, I might consider it.

As the daylight fades, I'm grateful for my wonderful wife, our nest-home, many friends, health, a decent job, and the amazing natural world. Beauty everywhere, if one has eyes to see.

Grieving

My friend and colleague Pat died 2 mornings ago. I had sat with her a week ago, knowing that her body wouldn't last long and that she was already essentially gone. I sat with my hand on her arm and tried to let her know through that touch that I was there, that I loved her, that I was letting go. I hoped she would go gently, despite Dylan Thomas--she had lived for 15 years with cancers of various types, not raging against the dying of the light but focusing on the here and now. Pat didn't want pity or false sympathy, but she did want to be asked how she was--and for the asker to truly want to know. A few folks made assumptions or gave her insensitive pamphlets about hospice, etc., when she was brimming with verve. Pat really lived by telling it like it was, telling jokes to make the stupidity of others funny and to lighten up our lives, and by constantly reminding her friends that we were bright, amazing people and that we couldn't let others get us down, no matter what. And it seemed to me that she made peace within herself about most of the general human craziness during the past year. She used to tell me to write a book about all of the things people did to her, but she stopped blaming them, about the same time that she stopped saying that her tombstone should say things like, "I was a good girl, I was I was" and "It wasn't all my fault!"

Oh Pat, I hope you're laughing, wherever you are!

Voice of God

Looking back a year ago:

I had to laugh to myself when I heard people singing (or saying) that they "wanted to hear the voice of the Lord," because for me it meant accepting that my life would be turned upside down time and again. It demanded complete self-honesty, courage, and strength. When I haven’t been totally honest with myself and have done things the way I wanted to, I made mistakes that hurt others badly. Sometimes I was so used to feeling upside-down that I didn’t realize how uncomfortable and dreadful it could be for others. Feeling upside-down also made me sensitive to wrongness, when people around me turned their environment upside down to suit themselves, instead of being willing to suffer change themselves in order to help the community grow. But sometimes my presence or example seemed to act as a catalyst for people to begin to make changes in their own lives, or sometimes a wounded person could begin to heal him/herself because of the gentleness which flowed through me.

I reexamined my call to ministry, tried to discern whether or not formal education in seminary would be helpful, and assessed what my spiritual gifts are and considered how to best use them in compliance with God’s will. My job situation had been disquieting for half a year (at that point), and I tried to analyze my strengths and weaknesses objectively, living with my feelings, which said one thing, and the doors closing, which said another. I came to think that the first half-year of 2006 in particular was an exercise in obedience and humility. Plunged into despair and shame, into the dark night, wondering if there would ever be clarity or hope, yet linked with an underlying and deep-rooted willingness to be changed, to take emotional (and some physical) risks—all of this left me believing that I had come out on another side of my spiritual life, extraordinarily transformed (not the goal of submission to the will of God, yet a welcome side-effect!) and more quietly, that I have become more “attuned to authentic movements of the Spirit leading us into greater fullness of life” (Loring 15). This experience seemed to “reflect an experience of God which is more verb than noun, more relationship than knowledge….” And I seemed to have groped my “way in search of reality, past easy definitions and conceptions of” myself, becoming “graciously freed from the distortions imposed by ‘the world’” (ibid.).

Loring, Patricia. Spiritual Discernment: The Context and Goal of Clearness Committees. Pendle Hill Pamphlet 305. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1992.

Well, I am always surprised by my lack of humility when I look back! Yet, when I take stock, that dark night did seem to help me empty myself, and there was then room for a new person to enter my life, for that relationship to turn my self-concept upside-down in a marvelous way. And I do seem to have made my way into a new conception of myself as a librarian, on the other side of grief and loss.

Human pace, Human face

Live at a human pace, face intimacy. One of our friends is failing at a faster pace than before so we went to see her in the hospital. The TV show, "desperados" as we call it, aka Desperate Housewives, did make a good point this week--it is in those dreadful hospital visits that our human face is most revealed, at its most human pace. Holding a hand, saying, "I love you," is one of the most intimate things we can do for a friend. Keeping a visit short, to accomodate the patient's flagging energy as well as others who want to visit, is to live at a human pace.

Intimacy sometimes begets human pace--and more intimacy. After the hospital visit, I went home exhausted, and slept the following day away as a virus worked its way through my body--and I did my best to accept the loving care of my wifely.


So, the face of God, in the pace of God?