Catching Up
Cold. Rainy. Frozen toes. Munching Skittles. For reasons unknown, "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" is on infinite loop in my brain. There is a pile of Christmas presents that should have been wrapped tonight. I sat down after dinner to plan out my evening, and two hours later, I woke up.
The Christmas season is officially upon us. During the first week of December, we had six events in four days. The next week, last week, began with an "unofficial review" which I knew would come eventually. I have been walking a tightrope since at least June. I and at least one board member have known that the Ringmaster and the head clown have been looking for reasons to shoot me down. The rope is beginning to fray. I'm easing my way to the platform at the end, hoping to get off the rope before it breaks.
In one of my more cynical moments in the last week, I realized that this year has been 2006 all over again. Job ending? Check. Lost best friend? Check. Lost home? Check. Grad school drama? Check. The main difference is I haven't been paralyzed, and I don't think this is entirely because I am stronger than I was. I am stronger, but the stability is not all my own. I know this because I did go back into depression. I know this because as soon as that was clear, the community around me helped me pull myself out. I finally have what I knew I needed all those years.
That reminds me of a conversation I had a couple weeks ago. I heard about a friend who had a hellish summer. There was a debilitating health problem, and her community provided no practical support. Knowing that community, there were undoubtedly promises of solidarity, quite probably prayer from a few, but it never did go beyond that. It's heartbreaking. I know they mean well. I know they want to do what's right, but they often don't know how or even what that means. Still, for all the good intentions, they've now effectively disenfranchised another person who has long been a pillar of that community. She isn't the first, and she won't be the last.
Go, keep warm and well fed.
Lord have mercy on us all.
The Christmas season is officially upon us. During the first week of December, we had six events in four days. The next week, last week, began with an "unofficial review" which I knew would come eventually. I have been walking a tightrope since at least June. I and at least one board member have known that the Ringmaster and the head clown have been looking for reasons to shoot me down. The rope is beginning to fray. I'm easing my way to the platform at the end, hoping to get off the rope before it breaks.
In one of my more cynical moments in the last week, I realized that this year has been 2006 all over again. Job ending? Check. Lost best friend? Check. Lost home? Check. Grad school drama? Check. The main difference is I haven't been paralyzed, and I don't think this is entirely because I am stronger than I was. I am stronger, but the stability is not all my own. I know this because I did go back into depression. I know this because as soon as that was clear, the community around me helped me pull myself out. I finally have what I knew I needed all those years.
That reminds me of a conversation I had a couple weeks ago. I heard about a friend who had a hellish summer. There was a debilitating health problem, and her community provided no practical support. Knowing that community, there were undoubtedly promises of solidarity, quite probably prayer from a few, but it never did go beyond that. It's heartbreaking. I know they mean well. I know they want to do what's right, but they often don't know how or even what that means. Still, for all the good intentions, they've now effectively disenfranchised another person who has long been a pillar of that community. She isn't the first, and she won't be the last.
Go, keep warm and well fed.
Lord have mercy on us all.
posted by Sam Gamgee at
10:42 PM
1 Comments:
Amen my friend... Amen.
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