Small Steps, Giant Leaps

Can it really be that forty years have passed since the first moon landing and Neil Armstrong's words, "That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind"? Forty years—it doesn't seem possible. We have seen the birth of the Internet, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the cloning of a mammal, and other remarkable achievements; we have also experienced AIDS, the Tiananmen Square massacre, 9/11 and war.

It seems to me that everything is relative. I have only faint recall of some of the events I've listed above, and as for the moon landing, I do not remember it at all. I was dealing personally with some extremely difficult "small steps" of my own and didn't see Armstrong's famous one. I am not alone in this response, for the memory of a near-tragedy (a child almost drowned) has, for some in my family, pushed out awareness of the space adventure that was happening at the same time. There were others, I'm sure, who could not just dismiss their compelling circumstances in order to give attention to something else, even though it was as epic as stepping onto the moon. Mothers were birthing babies, families were burying their loved ones, accidents and crimes and weddings and baptisms were happening as usual. Life just goes on.

So then, we cannot be casually dismissive of people who don't seem to know what's been going on. And don't be embarrassed if you feel you "can't keep up." One mother told me that she was so overwhelmed with caring for her disabled child that she was hardly aware of the Viet Nam war, at the same time other women were so concerned for a military husband or son that they could think of nothing else. It all depends on who you are and where you are and what is happening at the time.

The world won't stop to watch and wonder while I take the small steps of my life, even though they seem difficult or daring to me. But there is One who notices. "What's the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don't be intimidated by all this bully talk. You're worth more than a million canaries!" (Matthew 10:29-31)

Marjorie

Scripture taken from The Message. Copyright © 2003 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

Maybe It's Time to Give It Up

I ran across an interesting book the other day and checked it out from the Children's Center at the library: It's Time to Give Up Your Pacifier. Again, the blogging part of my brain kicked into gear, as I thought about some of the things we grownups cling to and just haven't been able to give up. Like children, we may have "pacifiers" that keep us busy or "security blankets" that comfort us, which we long since should have outgrown!

* An old argument: "I know I was right, I don't care what anybody says."

* A learned prejudice: "My daddy didn't trust . . . lawyers . . . or anyone from [wherever] . . . or the government . . . [or you name it], and so I don't either."

* A childhood resentment: "My parents always favored my brother . . . my sister . . . the youngest . . . the oldest . . ."

* A disagreement from long ago: "Ever since the church business meeting in '98, she has never spoken to me."

* A sense of entitlement: "I've worked hard all my life and made my own way, and now I deserve . . ."

* An exaggerated forlornness: "No one cares. No one ever calls. Not my parents . . . or my children . . . or the pastor . . . or [whoever] . . ."

* A distrust of others' good will: "Don't count on anybody's help if you're old . . . you're female . . . a minority . . . disabled . . . unemployed . . ."

* An unfounded suspicion: "I've always wondered why she . . . I'll bet she is . . ."

* A smoldering anger: "Every time I hear about [whatever], I get soooo mad!"

* A perceived injustice: "Things never work out for me. I never get to . . ."

* An envious excuse: "Some people get all the breaks."

* And perhaps the most common of all, the helpless and hopeless, "I can't."

Some of these may seem silly—especially the ones that are not about you or me!—but they are real to the people who own them, as real as Emily's or Anthony's or Chloe's pacifier. These feelings and attitudes console us, making us feel better about ourselves as we regard other people with less grace. The book said that growing up means finding new things to make you happy.
Bye-bye, "pacifier." Maybe it's time just to give it up!

Marjorie

Like Elijah

I'm not running from a wicked queen who is out to get me, nor am I going to be hiding out in a cave. Like Elijah, though, I intend for the next ten days or so to sleep and then wake up and eat and then sleep some more and then eat some more, and in between, I will read and walk and talk and think and pray.

It's staycation time—a new word in our dictionary now—a combination of vacationing and staying at home. For a week I am going to be at a nearby country location with a lake and grass and trees and a lot of blue sky, if it doesn't rain as it often does on vacations! There are walking paths (one of them designated as a "prayer path), a hammock, rocking chairs on the patio, friendly cats and perfectly lovely hosts. I could pitch a tent there, but I prefer the comfort of a real bed and some air conditioning in what my family fondly calls "the garden level" accommodations (a walkout basement). There is no television, no cell phone reception (although the hosts have a landline if guests have an emergency), minimal kitchen facilities—nothing to do except the things I mentioned above. Praise be!

I am not expecting an earthquake or wind or fire like Elijah experienced, but I am hoping like him to hear the "still small voice." I'll be back blogging again around the end of July.

Marjorie

It's Never Too Late to Have a Happy Childhood

Many people have used the line that titles this article. It sells books and articles, programs of hypnotherapy and inner healing, workshops, and even a nutritional supplement. People like novelist Tom Robbins and motivational speaker Wayne Dwyer say it's so, and I believe it as well.

You may be quite aware that some infants exhibit the syndrome called "failure to thrive." They simply do not grow as they should. In many of these cases there is no apparent organic disorder; the growth failure occurs because of environmental neglect (basically, lack of food which can be caused in a number of ways) or stimulus deprivation. Stimulation may be lacking because of the caregivers' anxiety, apathy, hostility or other stresses not all of which are the adult's "fault." The baby can become depressed, apathetic, and ultimately unwilling or unable to eat.

News to me, although perhaps not to you, is the geriatric syndrome, "failure to thrive." Some elderly patients with declining health and strength, including those who do not have an acute illness or a severe chronic disease, undergo a process of functional decline, progressive apathy, and a loss of willingness to eat and drink that ends in death. Often the cause of the deterioration is not identifiable, but it should not be dismissed as a necessary part of aging. All of this to say: The medical profession recognizes that at both ends of life, it is critical to receive the care we need—not only physical nourishment, but the comfort, acceptance, and hope that others can provide. And all the years in between, we never outgrow that need.

Although our physical growth may not have been stunted by some degree of negligence, nevertheless, some of us still have inside us the little person we once were who did not have the opportunity to flourish. We grew into adolescence and then adulthood with some basic needs unmet, in most cases not because we were not loved, but because our parents or guardians did not know how to nurture a child. They probably had inside of themselves the little persons they once were who had not been nurtured. If we did not—and if we do not—receive the encouragement and acceptance we need from others, we must be certain to provide it for ourselves.

Part of growing up is learning how to take care of oneself: how to bathe and how to fry an egg, how to press clothes and drive safely, how to write a check and get up in time for work. What we sometimes never learn, because we don't realize that we need to, is how to make good decisions, how to love and forgive, how to trust and treat ourselves with respect, how to be happy. If we did not learn it earlier, that is our task as a grownup now.

Some people take this very literally, suggesting that you spend time with your "inner child" every day, breathing deeply and noticing what she wants and needs. Do some of your favorite childhood activities. (Sorry, I just can't see myself climbing trees again!) Find and frame a photo from your childhood; talk to that adorable little girl and enjoy her company. Hang out with children. Bring back naptime; curl up with a blankie and have a nap. (Now this I can see!)

If you had a less-than-happy childhood, and these are helpful, then by all means, enjoy! But the real issue, I think, is creating for our selves the same atmosphere of warmth and caring that lets infants and the elderly thrive. Having a happy childhood at a later stage of life may include—but does not necessarily require—re-creating those younger days, doing all the fun stuff you missed, making up for some earlier, real or imagined deprivation. What it might mean is a healthful diet or dental care or counseling that was out of reach when we were children. It might mean going back to school or traveling or taking up an interest that was not possible before. It might mean telling family members or friends, "I need your support in this."

If we think about it, we are probably not all that far from knowing what it means.

Marjorie

Read from my other blog, "Finding the Faith Way," the article Goodbye to a Person You Once Knew.