It has been a long time since I posted anything. At first I used the excuse of life getting hectic: a trip to Cleveland, a young man moving into my spare room, a trip to Europe, Covid – twice, a new very energetic puppy who refuses to be house trained, a dental emergency and recovery, a much later-in-the-day church schedule, and more. I used these excuses until I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. The reality is, however, that back in January I lost my confidence in writing. Someone responded to something I hadn’t actually written, but they claimed I had, and accused me of pretty horrible things. I wrote a few more posts, but I was self-conscious with every one of them as I became worried about how they would be received by those who disliked me. I allowed fear to govern my actions, I’m afraid, and it’s not something I’m overly proud of. But now, on August 21, I have taken steps to manage my fear and move ahead with faith and trust.
How people respond to stimuli is an interesting topic. A week ago I was sitting on the couch in my living room when a loud boom rattled my windows and led one dog to bark and the other to hide. It shook me up and I was immediately online trying to figure out what happened. Turns out it was a meteor overhead! Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, Elizabeth sleeping upstairs and Robert down in the basement did not hear a single solitary thing. They were completely clueless about the event. It reminded me of the Whittier Narrows earthquake in 1987. Ben (whom I didn’t know yet) lived less than ten miles from the epicenter – which had quite a bit of damage – but didn’t feel it. I, on the other hand, was in a moving car outside Barstow, California more than 100 miles away and still managed to feel it.
Do I think that my being aware of earthquakes far away or meteors overhead makes me a superior person? Of course not! I have no more control over my awareness than others do over theirs.
But what if people are all aware of a situation? Shouldn’t we expect reactions/responses to be somewhat similar? In the large and devastating Northridge quake of 1994 both Ben and I were aware of the shaking 50 miles away. He lay in bed and watched as I frantically ran to the door to stand in the doorframe as I’d heard we were supposed to. He laughed as the door swung wildly, hitting me more often than not. When I asked later why he hadn’t gotten to a safer spot he responded that earthquakes didn’t bother him (besides, he added, he would have hated watching me be slammed by that swinging door). I, on the other hand, was adhering to the many rules we had been taught in school about earthquake safety. Two people: same room, same experience, different reactions.
Sometimes I think it is easy to sit back and judge people for not responding as we would in a given situation. I follow a Facebook page for widows and widowers and I read a lot of heartbreaking stories. My heart aches for the struggles so many people endure. I was talking to somebody one day, however, who had left the Facebook group because “too many people are whiners and refuse to move forward.” I’ve thought a lot about that. Because we are all individuals with individual baggage and needs and personalities there is not a formula for mourning. Grief is grief no matter how it is shown or expressed, and all grief is legitimate. After Ben’s death I had people complaining that I wasn’t grieving enough and others complaining that I was a drama queen grieving for attention. It would have been silly for me to try to appease the opposing sides!
I’ve listened to many people over the years talk about how to deal with depression. Just buck up and deal with it has often been the most popular approach. Unfortunately that’s not usually the best. Some people need to talk it through and will struggle for years. Some people need medication. Some people will just cycle through highs and lows. Depression or feeling down is legit and not erased by a magic wand. During World War I the British military was relentless and ruthless in its recruitment. Conscientious objectors were often sentenced to cruel treatment in prisons. A Society of White Feathers was organized where young women would walk through the streets looking for men seemingly of military age who weren’t in uniform and give them a white feather as a symbol of cowardice. Individual reasons for not serving were not considered before branding someone a “yellow belly.” Once on the battlefield, these men and boys – many of whom had not willingly signed up for the war – were stuck in horrifying trenches for weeks, months, and years. If a man froze or panicked when called to leave the trench and “go over the top” into the hell of “No Man’s Land” where guns were blazing their killing message across the divide then the order was to shoot that man as a deserter. There was no room for individual reactions. And when those men came home they were expected to not talk about their experiences and to maintain their “stiff upper lip” of British stoicism.
There have been many studies done on the societal impact of such actions. Suffice it to say that many lessons were learned from that European bloodbath.
In church today we heard from two people who have struggled with mental health issues their entire lives. They spoke of being bullied and of gossip they’d faced. They acknowledged that many of their reactions in life come from the internal challenges they face but don’t have much control over. I admired their honesty and frankness. I wonder why we turn away from those who are different.
When I was a young adult I got extremely snarky to a woman who didn’t speak English. I told her daughter that her mom was in America and should definitely speak America’s language. Fast forward many years. I tried so hard to learn French for our trip to France a year ago and to learn German for our trip this year. Unfortunately I have no aptitude for languages. I tried. I tried so stinkin’ hard! The people of France and in Germany and Austria had reason to suspect that I was too lazy to learn their language. How grateful I am, however, that people didn’t lecture me for not trying.
People are wonderful and they are unique. God created us this way. If we were meant to be the same we would have been made automatons. But we aren’t automatons; we are glorious children of a God who loves us no matter how we react to our struggles.
I will always tease Elizabeth about sleeping through a meteor, but she can tease me about being aware of every little sound or movement and never fully disengaging. We are different. Isn’t that wonderful?
I guess my rambling point in all of these stories is that we find joy in life when we don’t expect people to respond to situations and life the same way we do. Maybe I reacted to insecurity in a way others wouldn’t, but that’s okay. Maybe some people drown their stress in chocolate while other shop while others just take a bubble bath and read a good book. Some people hold onto their loved one’s belongings for decades while others do their sorting immediately. Some people cry in public and some people don’t. There are no proscribed rules for dealing with life’s challenges, except for the restrictions we put on as a society. Yes, some ways of coping are affirmatively harmful, but judging someone for engaging in those behaviors isn’t helpful in addressing the root cause.
Look to God and Live... Joyfully! 