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I know, I know. I've been all sour and negative lately. Or leastways I feel like I've been complaining a lot. So I promise I'll get back to posting Grace in Small Things soon. But today I have something to get off my chest that I just can't ignore.

I've slowly but surely been telling members of my family about my conversion to Christianity. For any newcomers, I was raised in a secular, Jewish home. Here is how I ended up becoming a Christian. I was as surprised as anyone by this turn of events, so I have a lot of sympathy for my friends and relatives who are somewhat taken aback when I break the news to them.

My friends and some of my family members have been wonderfully supportive, and for this I am grateful.

What's been bugging me lately is how some other members of my family have been handling it. I would understand if they had a lot of questions, or if they expressed doubts to me about the wisdom of my decision, or if they simply needed some time to process the information. I'm open to discussions on the matter. But some of the interactions have gone like this:

I confide in a relative that I've been going to church since last summer. They are somewhat dumbfounded. I explain as briefly as I can how I got there. They tell me that whatever makes me happy makes them happy. I feel momentarily accepted and at ease. But then they can't resist getting some dig in that reveals how little respect they actually have for my beliefs.

Relative #1: Sure, that's fine. Do what you need to do to be happy. If banging your head against a brick wall made you happy, could I stop you from doing that?

Relative #2: Oh, yes, I can see how you would be attracted to Christianity. The music, the art, and the architecture, some of it is truly beautiful. But when you come right down to it, how can some guy nailed up on a cross have spiritual meaning?* It doesn't make any sense.

(*Tone of voice indicated this was a purely rhetorical question.)

Relative #3: Well, I know you've always been a seeker, so I'm happy that you found somewhere you feel that you belong. Faith is like when you're learning to ride a bicycle. If you believe that someone is running behind you, holding on to the back of your seat, you'll feel safe. As soon as you realize that you're riding on your own, it's a lot easier to fall. So if you need to pretend that there's someone holding on to the back of your seat, if that makes you feel safer, you go right ahead.

I'm open for discussion, but those comments aren't a good place to start. They say "I've already passed judgement on Christianity. It gets a FAIL. Welcome to membership in this group. Now you FAIL too." Technically I could take the initiative to open a discussion from that point, but these comments upset me enough that I figure it's better at that point to just grin through my clenched teeth and agree politely. I can't recover that quickly from the contempt.

It's very tempting to go on the counter-attack. There are plenty of things that I could find fault with in my family's beliefs, if I wanted to go looking for weaknesses and hypocrisy. But I don't want to fight with my family.

In traditional Judaism, if someone converts to another faith, their family reacts as though the convert had died. They tear their clothes; they mourn for a full week and hold prayer services as they would if someone had passed on; and they thereafter refer to that person in the past tense. No one in the family has any contact with them ever again. So, I guess I should count myself lucky.

In any case, I'm trying to be a good Christian, and turn the other cheek. It's not easy, but that's why it's meaningful. I love my family, even when they have both feet stuck in their mouths. Give a me a few more days to lick my wounds, and then I'll be ready to forgive them.

Grace in Small Things #8

1. I'm grateful for the flood of responses to my last post, which were by turns touching, insightful, caring, thought-provoking, and funny. I love how much I can count on receiving an abundance of support and well-needed perspective. My friends, you are THE BEST!

2. After I posted yesterday, I called my more kindly boss and explained that I've been under more stress than usual lately. He was very understanding. I said that I don't like to bring my personal problems to work, but I had to admit when I was at my limits. Not only was he OK with that, but he offered to help any way he can.

3. A very effective homeopathic remedy allowed me a restful sleep last night. Another tablet this morning stilled the butterflies in my stomach. I'm carrying the bottle in my purse, just in case, but your comments are better medecine than pills.

4. I'm looking forward to going to my mom's house for dinner tonight. She still lives in the house I grew up in. Walking "home" from the subway, through a large, grassy park and along streets lined with cozy houses and tall trees takes me back in time in the best way. For 20 minutes as I walk, I re-live all the best memories from my childhood as a feeling that pervades my body from head to toe.

5. I'm looking forward to hugging my furry little brothers. (Newcomers: I'm referring to my mother's cats.) Unfortunately the one with the bad dandruff and shedding problems is the one who's more eager to snuggle, but hey, that's what adhesive rollers are for.

Be Careful What You Pray For

Everything was going really well. The problem with things going too well is that it's possible to get a wee bit smug. I was congratulating myself a little too often. The awareness of this as a problem kept sneaking into my consciousness. So, I prayed: God, keep me humble.

Boy oh boy, did He ever deliver on that one.

Ken has been changing lately, for the better. After a long struggle with issues too personal to share here, he has begun to manifest much of the potential I've always seen in him. I loved him the way he was, to be sure, but the New And Improved Ken is even better.

He has shed much of the extra weight he was carrying. His confidence has grown exponentially. He has more energy than I've seen in him in many years. He's calling everyone in his address book to plan social outings. He's thinking about signing up for advanced classes at the comedy improv theatre. Etc. Etc. Etc.

I'm happy for him. I'm happy for us. This is what I always wanted, right?

But deep down inside, in the dark corners of my psyche, some bad buttons are being pushed. Emotions I haven't dealt with in a long time are raising their ugly heads. Versions of me from the past, ones that I thought were completely uninstalled, are booting up and running their programs. I'm trying my best to handle it all, but I can't. I'm falling down, here.

I'm jealous. Jealous of his energy when I've struggled with so much illness these past many months. Jealous that he has broken through to a new level of being while I'm still plain old me.

I'm threatened. I used to be the centre of his world because he rarely took the initiative to make social plans. Now there are all these other people on his schedule and I'm not getting the same amount of attention as I used to. Yes, it's childish and selfish of me to resent that. But I do.

(For the record, I'm hardly being neglected. Ken is going out of his way to reassure me verbally, by setting time aside just for us, by bringing me flowers, by caring for me when I'm sick... Trust me, it's not him. My insecurities are the problem.)

I'm time-travelling. In my previous marriage, my first husband was the socially dominant one. Most of "our" friends were his friends. He was in charge of our schedule. I was meek, quiet, and resentful. Sure, I had fun at the events he planned, but I also sulked because I wasn't allowed to be an equal partner in the decision-making process. Ken isn't like my ex, and yet there's enough similarity in his social initiatives to throw me back into my old feelings. I'm fighting it, but it's a struggle that's not easily resolved.

In all of this I feel completely off-balance. The only thing that centres me for a short period of time is prayer. It doesn't help that I've been sick for the past week, yet again.

This morning I finally made it back to work. The phone rang before I had even caught my breath from walking up the stairs. In my flustered, frazzled state, I had a conversation with an important special guest of my workplace. I didn't handle it as gracefully as I could have. I let slip that there had been some major miscommunications between myself and my bosses, when I probably could have covered it up. The VIP was not impressed.

In the seven years I've worked here, I've never been in trouble with my bosses like I was today. One of them sent a scathing e-mail about my behaviour to the other. The second one called and told me off, not cruelly, but firmly. In the end we all agreed to take some of the blame for the miscommunications, but I had to own that I wasn't on top of my game this morning. I really could have done better on that phone call.

So basically I'm kind of feeling like a basket case this week. I'm trying to take it day by day and do my best, but I'm not operating with a balanced mind, and I don't trust myself to handle the situations that keep coming up. I'm reacting emotionally instead of responding responsibly.

But, I asked to be humbled. If there's any better reminder that I'm human, fallible, and flawed, I don't want it! I have plenty to work with here.

Grace in Small Things #7

1)  The sweet feeling of health returning.  The irritating tickly throat, sneezing, and general awfulness are ebbing away.  Balance, wholeness, and peace remain.

2)  Naps.  Gentle, nurturing naps.

3)  My soft, comfy, red couch.  It's been my second bed for the past three days as I recuperate.  

4)  The tacky green-and-pink spare duvet I bought at a now-extinct discount store in 1997.  It's been through the wash enough times to wear away any roughness at the seams, and is basically my grown-up security blanket.

5)  LL Cool Joe of Joey's Pad gave me this terrifying award:

  "The Scary Clown Award is given to blogs with display a great sense of humor... and attitude."

Thanks Joey!  As a matter of fact, this clown looks a lot like I've felt for the past few days.  Red nose, mouth open for some major coughing, one runny eye that indicates the  side with the swollen sinus cavity...  I don't have a red-and-white stocking cap, but if I did, I'd be wearing it to keep my noggin warm.

Grace in Small Things #6

The context: my 2nd day home sick with a cold.  Ken works from home so he's around to witness all the sneezing.

1)  Ken called in sick for me so that I wouldn't have to deal with talking to co-workers first thing in the morning when I was all bleary and phlegm-clogged.

2)  Then he brought me a bagel with marmalade and almond butter and a glass of cranberry juice for breakfast - in bed. 

3)  Later, he came out to the living room check on me and found me wilted on the couch in front of the TV.  Without a word, he brought a blanket and tucked it all around me and up under my chin.

4)  "Are you hungry for lunch?  How about Mexican?  I'll just go to the store, and when I come back I'll cook you a nice, hot lunch."

5)  He also brought home a big jug of orange juice.

Grace in Small Things #5

I have a sense that Grace in Small Things is supposed to be all about the small, transcendent beauties of everyday life.  The first flowers of spring, the kiss of raindrops on one's upturned face, and the simple coziness of home.  But sometimes nothing beats the thrill of rampant consumerism.

On Saturday I set a record for pairs of shoes bought in one day.  I'm not sure what happened, except that Ken and I both had spring fever of the brain and we went a little crazy.

I set out to get a simple pair of white shoes for our wedding.  Mission accomplished:

Then I tried on some sneakers, because my old pairs are all busted up and due to be replaced.  These ones were very comfy:

The coolest part is that the white-on-black isn't a print, but a brocade, woven right into the fabric.  It's very classy.

Then I found these cute-as-a-button high tops:

Not only do I love the pinstriping around the soles, but there's also the bizarre detail of assymetrical lacing.  I couldn't say no to them.

Finally we dropped into the John Fluevog store.  We never fail to take a peek inside when we're strolling on Queen St., but we've never bought anything because the shoes are all quite pricey.

They were having a sale.  

I couldn't decide between the tone-on-tone vanilla/tobacco/mahogany slingbacks and the cherry-red t-straps.  Ken said "I'll get them both for you."  I didn't argue.

So that was all great fun.

Five pairs of shoes - that's my Grace in Small Things for today.  Next time I'll be sure to come back to heartfelt sentiments about my loved ones, moments of quirky humour, and the softness of kittens' fur.  Today, I'm going to revel in my shoes.

Grace in Small Things #4

1) This is my 300th post. Woah! That's a lot of posts. This blog has been an amazing experience, and much grace has flowed my way through online friendships. Thanks guys- you're the best! You're the reason I keep it going.

2) One of my coworkers brought a hardboiled egg in her lunch. She took it out and displayed it, calmly balanced, pointy end up, on her tape dispenser all morning. There was something about seeing that brown egg meditating amongst the files that made me very happy.

I had a nightmare last night, that Larry from Three's Company tickled me mercilessly until I was absolutely furious. So furious that I woke up angry at 3:30 am. Then I realized that I hadn't thought of Larry in about 20 years, and marveled at the bizarre nature of the human brain. When I shared my dream with my co-workers, I received two stories in return:

3) Dr. D. dreamed that there was a new trend amongst young nightclubbers: after the bars closed everyone would rush to the nearest library to read books. The libraries had to hire night shift employees to accomodate the new clientele.

4) One of the receptionists told me that when she was in high school she had a job as a cashier at a busy McDonald's restaurant. At home, she shared a room with her sister: two twin beds on either side of a window. Her sister had to wake her up at night because she would sleep-work; she'd get up out of bed, go stand at the window, and ask "May I take your order please?"

5) The roses Ken gave me are at the peak of their beauty today. They have unfurled their petals with graceful languor, each bloom more perfect than the last. Tomorrow the petals may start to brown and wilt, but there's still time left today to love them.