Responsibility - Not as Previously Advertised Everywhere

Responsibility – Not as Previously Advertised Everywhere

Some days I feel that my dream to grow up to be a “responsible” adult was too big for me.  The details of responsibility are not the same from where I sit now, 40 years away from teenage reverie. 

I had it in mind that I would have a car, and drive it as I wish.  I did NOT have it in mind that I would be concerned with things like making appointments for oil changes when I could be “sleeping in” on Saturday mornings; looking at the recall list for airbags on line; having to garage my vehicle for months on end and start it up weekly to keep the proverbial juices flowing until the airbag can be replaced; or actually washing the car more than twice a year.  Yes, even when it snows.

I had it mind that I would have a house in the country.  I would “work the land” and plant flowers and vegetables and it would be a neat place to be.  I learned the hard way that things go wrong that no one warns you about:  the 4 inch drain outside the basement walkway got plugged one spring.  Result:  flooding.  Figuring out how it was happening required consulting a handful of people who gave reasons that were not tied to the problem.  Their speculations cost me about $2,000 in unnecessary pseudo-remedy.  But I had my own bad guesses too.  The very first person who weighed in told me, “it couldn’t be that.”  And he was the first one who was wrong.  That fix would have cost me only $300.

I have a spectacular backyard, just like in my dream.  And in July – just when I want to sit out there – two things happen.  #1) the winds across the pastures blow over – as in “capsize” - my super, duper screened in gazebo.  I re-set it about four times that first summer.  I then gave up.  #2) The mysterious fly-hatch that occurs on the days when I can actually take the time to sit out there.  These little baby barn flies swarm like a Biblical plague on my backyard for a couple of weeks and render that whole area useless and off-limits.  Damn them.

I dreamed of having a meaningful job.  Over the many years and many occupations, I have wondered if that particular day’s job was or not, and to whom.  I presumed upon financial stability.  Like it would just happen if I worked my butt off and did my part… I was wrong.  I also passed-up two proposals that did not involve marrying into stable incomes.  I still joke about “marrying into money.”  And for someone who marries ME that, too, would be a joke for him!  Not a very funny one.

My passion for theology has never waned.  I dreamed of a Church that would love me and my zeal and humor, and want me to teach at University.  Then I found out that you actually had to get a doctorate (ka-ching, ka-ching) to pull that off.  Not to mention, in my field, I would have to learn about five more languages – including, but not limited to: French, German, Aramaic, Hebrew and one other.  I took two semesters of Biblical Greek which was great fun.  I can read it out loud to you, even if it is written in the Greek alphabet’s letters.  I even know some of what I read.  But, Hebrew.  Yikes.  I didn’t know a pencil could make that many variations on one letter!  And if you throw the wrong little mark above something, it probably ends up being a swear word.  I think I will stick to occasionally utilizing my Spanish, and perhaps learning some online Polish.  At least I know Polish swear words.  How handy.

My midlife dream-modification-therapy has not been much more successful than my teenage musings.  But at least I am not so crest-fallen when the air zips out of the balloons of my hopes.  I just get mad instead. 

Last Spring, I had actually reached out to the Foster Care system to go through classes.  I thought that would be great for me and for some child in crisis.  After all, I am unbelievably fun and still enjoy the tilt-o-whirl.  I brought my A-game to my first four classes…. Even though Eeyore was teaching them.  Even though we were told ad nauseaum that this was a “Mutual selection process” and that we could be “de-selected” – even then it sounded so Nazi-like.  At that final class that I attended we were shown an anti-Christian piece of bigoted propaganda that was created to assault certain moral belief systems.  The commercial was for an amoral State of acceptance – even under your own roof, where I propose you should be able to think as you wish.  It was a short but very clear montage of unfair, hateful caricatures.  I cannot repeat to you my exact thoughts about The System at that point.  Oh, it’s not that I don’t remember; it’s that it wouldn’t be proper.  But it had something to do with offspring of female dogs.  And as a dog breeder, I use those kinds of words sparingly, even in my head. 

I guess all along, I wanted to be a responsible, contributing member of society… and found out over the 40 year lab of that theory…. It aint easy.   Oh, William Shakespeare, I thank you for telling us, “To thine ownself be true”!  - This, a Glorious Truth in the midst of rejection and struggle.  I know my Center and I know Whose I am – and that makes all the difference!

To my fellow pilgrims – you do not walk alone.

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