Principle 3: We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. All experiences in our lives can be occasions of grace. When suffering inevitably comes, we need not think that God has abandoned us. Suffering may indeed be a place where we can come to know God's will.
I'm reading a book right now about raising confident daughters. In one chapter, the author JoAnn Deak mentions the chaos theory: "Chaos theory begins with the thought that everything in the universe fits into a pattern in connection to everything else. We have difficulty seeing the big picture because we are too close, or because we are focused on the wrong thing." This idea fits seamlessly with the concept of God's universe, and our inability to understand it. We can't see the big picture. We can only use the tools God's given us: prayer, grace, etc. All experiences in our lives, whether joyful or painful, can be occasions of grace. It's just not obvious to us.
Deak uses the chaos theory analogy to explain why sometimes mothers and tween daughters actually can't see each others' points of view. I find that to be happening in my marriage. I can't see Lee's point of view, at least not without looking through the lens of my own experience and emotions (and, if I'm being honest, my selfishness).
From my point of view, Lee is often dismissive of me. He's quick to poke fun or to contradict what I've said. He gets annoyed very easily, rolling his eyes or taking a deep breath (as if to signify that I've said something crazy or stupid).
Yesterday was Father's Day, which meant brunch with my parents. Time with my parents is always a minefield. He doesn't like my dad, and becomes reserved and dismissive in his presence. The dynamic is tense, because Dad never fails to be hurt and angry. This time, Lee arrived an hour late. (He said it was because I never told him what time we were meeting for brunch, and he had to go over a song with the band after the service.) By the time he arrived, Dad was already steaming. Lee was cordial but didn't make an effort at conversation either. He didn't want to be there. The whole experience was awkward for me, as it always is.
When we got home, I asked what was wrong (code for "Why are you behaving like such a jerk?"). When I didn't get a satisfying answer I told him he had to start being nicer to my parents. The rest of the day was a kind of cold war. He took the girls to the pool without including me. I went along anyway. At the pool he played with the girls, and when he got out, he left and went to the grocery store to buy food for dinner.
That night, he made BBQ chicken, and made it extra sweet for me (brown sugar and honey). That's actually not how I like BBQ chicken, but I recognized his intention to be kind. By evening he was treating me better, as usual. He's always best at night.
And so to the third principle, and how it relates...
We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. What we SHOULD care about is described in the first principle: We are created to praise, reverence and serve God our Lord, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.
In my Next Generation Mentoring group, Martha (our mentor) would listen as each of us younger women described these minor daily atrocities of our husbands. She often agreed with us that they (the husbands) were in the wrong and needed gentle reminders. But her overall message was that as a wife, we are meant to be our husband's helper. We are encouragers, comforters, helpers.
My reaction to this, of course, is what about accountability? Lee needs me to hold him accountable for his dismissiveness! His coldness! How can he change if I don't point it out to him?
But here's the rub: When I call Lee to the carpet, he almost never reacts well. I told him the other night that I felt he might be a little bit depressed. He replied (and I could have predicted this) that he could easily say the same thing about me. Then he said that he felt like I was riding him a lot lately. This is the interminable cycle: I call him out for being cold, and he replies that I'm critical and nagging. And so it goes. As the chaos theory says, I can't see his point of view, and he can't see mine.
And so back to these principles. We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. Instead, focus on what we are created to do: praise, reverence and serve God our Lord, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.
All experiences in our lives can be occasions of grace. How is this experience an occasion of grace? Focus on what I am created to do: praise, reverence and serve God. When Lee isn't loving me well, I'm to focus on loving him more.
It's not lost on me that I've never been especially good at picking up the cues around me, the muted hopes for help. In college I shared an apartment with a girl who lost her bearings. She and I weren't good friends, just roommates, and I came and went and made small talk with her when we both happened to be there. She wasn't a sad sack; in fact, she had sorority connections and interested guys and a cool smoking habit. At one point, though, she just packed up and left in the middle of the semester. Later, I met another student (a psych major) who asked me, "Didn't you notice that she hadn't left the apartment for three days? She was having a breakdown." I hadn't noticed. She had never indicated to me that anything was wrong, and I never asked. That she was often sitting on the couch, watching TV in her PJ's, didn't pose a red flag for me. Perhaps it would have if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own classes and guys and friends, etc.
Back to Lee. I see his red flags only when his behavior affects me. When his coldness makes me uncomfortable in front of my parents, or when he rolls his eyes in anger at something I've said. It's so easy to feel the injustice of this! He shouldn't behave this way! But am I creating an overall atmosphere of love and comfort, one that would maybe possibly smooth some of his rough edges? Nope. I keep anxiety at bay by making lists and focusing on my children and my work and getting dinner on the table.
We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. Instead, focus on what we are created to do: praise, reverence and serve God our Lord, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.
I react against this, because it feels weak. Give in? But he needs to be held accountable! This is the way I think, have been thinking for years. What if I TRY to change my focus to being Lee's helper? What does that look like?
He wants me to break the kids' habit of crawling into our bed at night. He's not a good sleeper to begin with, and any hindrance can mean a night of tossing and turning. I've agreed with him several times. But when the moment comes, usually at 2 or 3 or 4 a.m., I'm too tired to get up and shepherd them back to bed. And even on nights when I do, I haven't figured out how to keep them there. I need to turn my attention to this issue. It won't be easy.
He tends to want to have more date nights. This is always tricky. The money issue, the overeating issue, the which-friends-will-he-go-out-with issue, etc. But it's not as if I'm asking myself to make some big sacrifice here. I can navigate these waters.
In the moments when his behavior strikes me as...infuriating, I will focus on praising, serving and reverencing God.
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