My Last Post Was Bullshit
I’ve been meaning to write this post for a long time; ever since I wrote my last post, closed my blog window, opened Realtor.ca in a new window, found a house for sale, went to look at said house, bought said house, and moved into said house…
Ya - my last blog post was, indeed, bullshit. I didn’t lie. Not exactly. I mean, I THOUGHT I liked living in a small house, where the four of us were forced to breathe the same stale air and trip over each other’s ’ huge shoes. Honestly. The smallest shoe size in my house is a Woman’s 11. I thought I was charmed by the nightly racket of my gigantesque son making late night snacks while I tried to sleep in my bedroom, which was the original dining room of the house, and therefore, by design, right beside the kitchen. Every night, I had to listen to my son make pizza pockets while talking to the cats when all I wanted to do was sleep. I thought I could shrug away the annoyance of hearing him stomp up the stairs while my daughter - a confident girl full of “enhanced emotions and strong opinions” - repeatedly whined his name (Keeeeeeeer-AWN!!) in her earsplittingly cringe-worthy pitch-of-small-dogs-and-dying-hamsters voice. Love grows best in little houses, after all. You’re a liar, Doug Stone. If you don’t get that reference, you haven’t become a Country Music fan out of a desperate need to save your sanity while living in a small house with a charismatic man who loves loud country music.
The blog sounded good to me, after I wrote it. I read it over and thought “Ya. I’m awesome! Live simply. Don’t live outside your means. Show your kids that material possessions don’t matter. Show them that love is more important than having a dining room table you can eat at…” But, I am now writing this blog while sitting at my dining room table (bought used off of Marketplace…I’m not a complete prisoner to capitalism…) in the Dining Room (note: NOT in my bedroom-previously-known-as-the-dining-room) of my new house. And ya know what? It feels GREAT! I love that I didn’t follow my own advice. I love that I didn’t - in this case - practice what I preached. I still do believe that it is best to live simply. And I definitely think that love is more important than material goods. But, I also believe in my freedom to change my mind.
Glennon Doyle, in her book “Untamed”, refers to how Jesus used a stick to demonstrate lessons in the sand. She stretches this analogy somewhat. I’m pretty sure biblical scholars would not agree with her, and would state that Jesus wrote with a stick in the sand because that’s what he had to write with - he was teaching in a desert country more than 2000 years ago, after all. However, I am not a biblical scholar, and I love the connection Doyle makes here. She says that, like Jesus, we can “write in the sand”, and then wipe it away or let the wind blow it away, and then write again the next day. Something new. Something different. We get to change our minds as we grow in our understanding of ourselves, others, and the world around us. I don’t think she is saying we can make commitments and promises, and then just erase them and pretend we never made them; that’s not growth. That’s hurtful behaviour. What I believe she is stating is that we are responsible for seeking truth and goodness, and - as we do so - we may find that we need to revise our plans, change our minds, make new decisions - write something new in the sand. And this is okay. We don’t need to feel embarrassed or guilty about saying one thing one day, and quite another a few days or months later.
My ex husband would not agree with any of this. He is loyal to his word, and a slave to his promises. No matter what. While we were married, we had a life plan which included two kids, a nice house, a work-out every Saturday morning at the Y, and Mass every Sunday. We followed that plan to the letter. It was very predictable. Very efficient. And, admittedly, very successful. He helped lead a pilgrimage to Israel every March. The third year he was planning to go - when the kids were 10 and 8 - I asked him not to go because I wanted to have a family vacation that year. But, big problem - he had already mentally committed to the pilgrimage. He had told people he was going. It was “The Plan” (caps intended). No plane tickets had been purchased, but this was not up for discussion, as far as he was concerned. It was written in stone - NOT in sand. He went to Israel that year, and I spent a third March Break alone with the kids. Now, there are very admirable things to be said about a person who keeps his/her word. And there are equally negative things to be said about a person who waffles, changes his/her mind all the time, and breaks promises and commitments. As with pretty much anything in life, there is a balance between the definite and the flexible. For me, though, after our marriage ended almost six years ago, my growth has been due, in large part, to the ongoing discovery of flexible thinking. I have found my freedom and happiness by allowing myself to write in the sand.
I was happy in my small house, for a time. Then, one day, I wasn’t. Now I am happy in my larger house. Maybe someday I won’t be; maybe someday I will move again. Maybe.
