Muddling Thoughts

I've been pondering the realities and perceptions of life lately.  I'm struck by the ironic.  I'm puzzled by the idealism that turns to the just-get-through-it.  I can say that in one sense I'm disappointed by people.  And life.  In another sense, I'm truly inspired. 

Take my life, for instance.  When I was in college, I was going to make a difference - a real difference in the world.  I would be the best teacher.  I would sacrifice myself to bring knowledge and wisdom and knowledge of salvation to students around the world.  Here I am,  muddling through my days teaching two young ones how to pick their clothes off of the floor and how to remember their manners.  And yet....I can truly say that I'm happy.  Oh, I'm crazy tired and even frustrated often.  But somehow doing something great is taking the form of doing something infintesimal - like a homeopathic remedy whose power is in its infinitely small dose.  Its like humanity is shown for what it is - raw, seemingly insignificant.  And then, it isn't.  It is touched by God.  When?  How did that happen?  How can what I do matter when everything I've tried to do I've botched with my human - ness?

 Take Thomas Kinkaid.  I was deeply saddened to learn of his tragic passing.  I've always liked his work.  His art wasn't my most favorite because it seemed to be from a world I couldn't identify with.  But I wanted to.  I loved his "Painter of Light"  phenomenon.  It lit something warm and idealistic in me.  I had an ideal view of him after I read years ago that his wife's name was Nanette and that he liked to hide an "N" somewhere in his paintings in honor of her.  I was inspired when I learned that his family of four daughters had a tradition of sitting around their living room in the evenings, each absorbed in their own book.  I tucked that lovely picture in my heart and saved it for what I wanted my own family's evenings to look like - some day.

Then I learned of the most tragic part.  He'd slipped back into alcoholism and was reportedly drinking all night with his girlfriend.  Really?  My ideal was shattered.  What happened to the warm, cosy family circle?  And, really, I don't want to know.  So he was human.  He still touched my life.  I'm sad for him and for his family.  But, it doesn't change what he did to make the world a better place.

Then, take Peter.  I read in the Scriptures this morning about the night Jesus was confronted with His betrayer.  Here he is, standing there, the epitome of God-turned-vulnerable.  By choice.  The mob comes to Him and it seems he is standing there, peaceful, desperately wanting the God-love, the beauty and grace and LOVE principle of his kingdom to shine through.  And suddenly, out of nowhere - SHWAK!!! One of HIS followers, one who has spent the last three years learning how to represent this kingdom of LOVE draws his sword, glinting sickening in the moonlight and whacks off an ear!  Nice!  Just what Jesus wanted - a perfect MISrepresenting of his kingdom.

How can good be so limited by our human condition?  Why, despite our greatest ideals do we let down what we want so badly?  And yet.  Somehow there is hope.  There is good that divinity brings out.  Out of the middle of our broken plans.  Our addictions.  Our tempers.  Not because of these things.  In spite of them.

So, I look at my children.  I look at the grand plans I've failed in.  How does one raise a boy who is so beautifully gifted and so very human at the same time? How do you teach a girl who is fabulous and human?  I suppose, the same way I get through my life, my faulty thinking.  Trying.  Failing.  Trying again.  Brilliant success.  Oops.  Maybe not.  But, its o.k., because we are o.k.  Even in the imperfect.  Thank heaven for grace! - Nanette