as quoted in Bread for the Journey by

Elizabeth Canham

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

We are quite naturally impatient in everything

to reach the end without delay.

We should like to skip the intermediate stages.

We are impatient of being on the way to something

unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of progress

that it is made by passing through

some stages of instability –

and that may take a very long time.

Only God could say what this new spirit

gradually forming within you will be.

Give Our Lord the benefit of believing

that his hand is leading you,

and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself

in suspense and incomplete.”

At the close of a long, difficult day, a soldier, on combat in the Pacific theatre, fell wearily into his cot. “I can’t, I won’t move, even if God commanded me.” In seconds there was a loud explosion and cries from another building, hit by fire, killing some soldiers, injuring others.  In a trice, the soldier was out of bed, heading out to help his comrades.

Patience is the courage to walk the length of a leaf.

Patience is a complete second in the sun

Patience is a bird waiting.

Patience is the forming and reforming of the skies.

Patience is the measure of one full breath.

The pieces of wood are separating from each other. To solve the problem I bought braces. I notice that the braces are not rigidly straight, but are able to go around a corner. That capacity helps them hold things together.

Today I shall be mowing lawn, rebuilding a woodpile and cultivating the little garden here in Oakwood, Ohio. A beautiful sky is outdoors with me.

A Jewish blessing is ours and I pass it to you:  May you be happy. May you live in peace.

“Mary’s” decision, shared with me on Sunday (see the Monday blog), not to define herself just in terms of her recent horrendous losses has sent me on a heart and mind trajectory this week. When things don’t go the way I prefer, what decisions do I make in regards to that less-than-desirable circumstance? Whether I blame, whether I pout, whether I fight back, whether I try to pretend bad things away, whether I escape — all of these responses, whether I am conscious of them or not, are my own decisions. I do well to own those decisions.

Today I want to approach this topic from a slightly different angle. (I hope you know I’m not preaching to you. I’m opening the door to my own reflections.)

There may be times when my decisions regarding the bad things that happen are less than optimal because I don’t take the time or don’t have the facts or lack the know-how to make reasonable options toward which my prospective decisions could move.  I move to impulsive action (that is, impulsive decision-making) before I do an adequate job of making options. I give myself only three or four options when, in fact, there are more available, thus my decisions are option-challenged.

Let’s play with an idea.  ”The neighbor’s barking dog keeps me awake nights.”

I can readily list quick, impulsive, self-serving reactions (that yes, are decisions).
… hate the neighbors
… hate this dog and all dogs
… hate the day I must face
… take it out on the other drivers, on co-workers, on clients, on spouse

It is quite another thing to build options for what I might decide to do. That task may take some time and in fact, not fully cover the situation. But it’s well worth my effort.
… close the window, use ear plugs, play soft music, build a fence, install back-yard lights  (private defensive actions)
… sell the house, move away  (improbable, unrealistic)
… make friends with the neighbor, make friends with the dog, reveal my problem of sleep, ask to discuss it together  (no e-mails, no phone calls, no text messages please)
… take one or two neighbors with me to talk with the neighbor about the night noise
… consult city codes, talk with ordinance officials

The list of options is by no means complete. Yet the act of building the list and beginning to try one or more of the options discourages my raw feelings and impetuous tyrades to all the other neighbors about the dog.

To build options concerning the neighbor’s barking dog makes for a rather easy blog. The bad things that happen to us (“shit happens”) are typically far more complex and potentially damaging. Yet the skill of unearthing options for those occasions seems worth a try.

What am I trying to say?  We of this human race exhibit a debilitating tendency to blame something external for the feelings we have or the failures we suffer or the path we seem fated to walk, when in fact, our feelings and opinions and actions represent a decision on our part, whether we are conscious of having made a decision or not.

In other words, we don’t own up to our own habit of blaming an outside circumstance, event, person or decision for our present condition. Consequently we err time and again in not consciously making the decision that would release us from our bondage.

Perhaps I can parse out the thought with illustrations.

– My father forced me to give back to the family all of my earnings up to my 21st birthday and thus I’ve always been behind financially.

– When she mocked me in front of the other students, she sent a dagger into my heart that will be there all of my life.

– They always send me to the lowest dirtiest maintenance jobs, so of course there’s no chance to take pride in my work.

– His betrayal of our marriage vows was the final straw:  I shall never love again.

– My sister’s sense of superiority makes me ashamed to own her.

– When he cut me off to make an illegal left turn, of course I gave him the finger.

– The weather being what it is, no use in practicing for the mini marathon.

– Being short in a tall man’s world is both figuratively and literally belittling.

– I can’t lose weight, being married to a great cook.

Perhaps our creating hypothetical cases as listed above can sensitize us, to help us acknowledge that the knot deep in our gut is put there by ourselves, to stimulate our own deliberate and conscious decision-making when “the barking dog next door keeps me awake at night” and to find no advantage in blaming someone else for what I had earlier thought was dealt to me.

The “that” in her sentence was the implied content of my question to her. (I prefer not to use her real name.) “Mary, given what you’ve been through and continue to go through, how are you?”

For your own understanding of the situation, I shall mention only several of the recent events of Mary’s life.  Her husband died, her son died, her other adult son has special needs, a son in law is ill, a sister is ill, and she retired early from an excellent job to give necessary care.  I could name more critical events and situations.

“That’s not how I define myself, Dan.”

She decided to sell the house and to build one just right for a single person. “I live in all of it.”  But instead of staying home she went on a mission trip and then became an active voluteer in an organization concerned with families in crisis. She invests deeply in church life which has the verticle faith dimension and the horizontal community dimension.

Because she does not define herself as a person with huge losses, she has no need to pity herself.

Our conversation was a reason to go to church yesterday. I shall be thinking this week about my choices (yes, it is a choice) for defining myself. I invite you to do the same.