Poor Man's House

This evening I had a Counting Crows song in my head, the name of which I could not remember, and which mentally morphed into the Patty Griffin's song, "Not Alone." So I popped in her CD, Living with Ghosts. It's been some time since I've listened to this CD; it's one of those recordings that I absolutely love, but which I cannot listen to repeatedly. So I was sitting in my living room, listening to the album and writing in a notebook some things I intended to add to this blog, while my computer was chugging away on some doomed-to-crash task, when the song, "Poor Man's House" came on.

The first line that caught my ear was,

You know you've prayed enough when you don't ask any more.

I felt something resonating in my heart and my pencil stopped moving. I took a long swallow of the wine I was drinking and gave my attention to the song.

Nothing is louder to God's ears than a poor man's sorrow.

Conflicting feelings and thoughts arose at this. My thoughts turned to my own parents, my father in particular.

Daddy's been working too much for days and days he doesn't eat
he never says much but I think this time it's got him beat
It isn't that he isn't strong or kind or clever
Your dady's poor and he will be poor forever

I remember as a child of four, five, six, and so on getting up at five in the morning to see my dad off to work and waiting up until eleven or midnight, for him to come home. This was not easy for a youngster my age, and I fell asleep more than a few times. My father worked very hard.

Hey that's the poor man's house
Those kids are living in a poor man's house
They walk to school with the soles of their shoes worn out
And come home in the evening to the poor man's house

I remember my childhood: the powdered milk we drank, the shoes with patched holes and soles that were held together by Shoe Goo, the hand-me-down clothes from family, friends, and church, my father driving my mother, my sister, and I to my grandmother's for "vacation," and then returning to Delaware so he could work. My parents literally bankrupted themselvs to send my sisters and me to a private, Christian school.

Life wasn't always incredibly difficult, and I never went hungry, but I had peanut butter and jelly for lunch for years. We had a TV most of the time, and we even had cable here and there. There was never plenty, let alone abundance, but there was sufficiency. Going out to eat meant going to McDonalds, or on rare occasions, Naples Pizzaria, the only true New York style pizzaria ever to exist in Newark, Delaware. It succumbed to Pizza Hut and Dominos sometime in the mid-eighties.

What is the point of all of this? The point is that my parents haven't had it easy (they gave everyghing for their children), and there's no sign of it getting any easier. Every Sunday I visit the house I grew up in from the age of three and a half to the age of twenty-one, and I see it falling apart with broken cars in the broken driveway (which my father and I poured ourselves when I was 12), missing asbestos shingles, paint flaking off, wood rotting, roof in need of replacement. Though my father is 60 and can't work anymore, there's no retirement. My mother, also 60, is looking for work again now that her bout of clinical deprssion is abating. I don't know what they're going to do, but I feel their pain of being mostly poor their adult lives and now, when they're supposed to be relaxing, being unable to. My father cannot relax because of pain and illness (without which he would be working), and my mother cannot relax because of the need for income.

Of course my parents always wanted things to be a little bit easier. Of course there are plenty of people in the nation and in the world who are worse off than my parents. God has kept my parents safe thus far. They've always been able to get by somehow, and they have always given 25 to 30 percent of what they make or are given back to God. This irks the hell out of my dad's mother, who has given my parents money a few times. My parents look forward, primarily, to their eternal life in the presence God. New bodies! No more sin, need, or corruption!

I don't know why Patty wrote this song, but it serves as catharsis for me. (I recall my senior year high school English teacher and how she adored the concept of catharsis, which is thus imprinted within me forever.) I'm not complaining about my childhood here. I'm not even complaining about my parents' difficult life; I am, however, saying that this is something that's on my mind often. We all want good things for those we love. I'm still praying for my parents, and my question to God is not, "Why, Lord?" but, "When, Lord?" Ultiimately, their treasure is in the next life, I just wish they could catch a break in this one.

Hopefully I will write about The Station Agent in my next entry. A wonderful film.

weakness

I cannot help people. I cannot help anyone. When I try, I fail. God can help, I believe. God please help those I cannot.

peace

It seems that lately most of my posts have been rather down and distressed. I just wanted to let everyone know who is reading that I am alright.

My faith is living, growing, changing. I am attending church regularly. I am exercising regularly. I have not had a cigarette in over three weeks. I am meeting and getting to know new people both in person and virtually. I am exploring options for getting finances under control. My romantic life is still nonexistent, but where one prospect has given way to friendship, another has already been provided, and I am maintaining an active and positive mindset.

At work today those of us who are believers gathered together and prayed because of a slew of technical and client-related difficulties that hit us today. Our attitude was definietely improved, and the afternoon went more smoothly as a result.

This past Saturday I had the opportunity to help with a Freedom Outreach in which somewhere between 60 and 100 kids from inner-city Wilmington were brought down to VCF (The Barn) and given lunch and an afternoon of fun events and activities. I don't feel particularly called to children's ministry, but I truly enjoyed this, even though it ate up my Saturday, wore me out, and I got kicked in the nose by one kid who threw a three-and-a-half-hour temper tantrum. Even he had a little bit of fun, despite himself. These kids are hungry for attention and affection. They all have different situations, but most of them seem to live with different people throughout the week -- aunts & uncles, single parents, grandparents, siblings. Some of them are allowed to come to church every week, and I am sure that the love that they experience there and at these events sponsored by Freedom Outreeach will have a positive impact on them.

Though my emotional state varies wildly, I am doing well, and I am grateful for all of my friends, for my family, my faith, and for my church and the opportunities I have to serve through it. I'm also grateful for fun. The Interpol show is this Thursday, and this is the beer I'm drinking right now.

Snapshot

Today the family, minus one of my two sisters, dined at Bennigan's for lunch to celebrate my mom's 60th birthday, which was Thursday. Though it's not surprising, it is unsettling when familial interactions become defined by the bitchiest element of the family, which in this case is my youngest sister. We as a group don't have much to talk about. I dole out little pieces of my life to generate conversation here and there, and we actually had a conversation about children, attachment, and abuse because I mentioned one of the children in my group yesterday at the Freedom Outreach event yesterday. Here is an example of my sister at work in the car on the way to Bennigan's:

Dad: "I was filling up the car with gas yesterday, and I overheard an interesting conversation. A man was asking for directions to the Elkton Walmart. Another guy gave him these directions that were incredibly complicated. He had the guy going through developments, and turning at this road and that road. Then a woman at the neighboring pump said, 'That's too tough. It's really easy. You just go down this road for a while, and you'll come to a big intersection. Make a right there, then a left at the next big intersection. You'll go through one more big intersection, and then you'll see the Walmart.'
My sister: "Wow, dad, that's an amazing statement on what you think of women."
My dad: "I just think it's interesting the different ways that men and women give directions, and I thought this conversation was a good example."
Silence. We're pulling into the parking lot.
My dad: "Here's a parking place."
My sister mumbles something unintelligible that begins, "You should...."
My dad hesitates at the parking place and drives around to the front of the restaurant and says that we should just get out here and he'll find a parking place.
As my mom, my sister, and I approach the restaurant entrance, my sister says, "Dad thinks women are so stupid. He's the one who can't follow directions."
Me: "D, I couldn't understand what you were saying either. I don't think Dad was saying anything bad about women."
Silence.

Later, back at the house, my mom makes some coffee. My parents like good, strong coffee, and really like their new coffee maker's setting that allows the hot water to spend more time passing through the grinds to get the most out of the grinds. My sister and I get some coffee, and I take a sip.

Me: "Did you use tap water or filtered water in this coffee."
Mom: "Tap water. How can you tell?"
Me: "I can tell by the taste. Tap water doesn't get the most out of the coffe. You'll enjoy your coffee more if you make it with filtered water."
Mom: "Really? I never noticed the difference."
My sister pats my shoulder, chuckles, and says, "Wow, Mike, you're just a well-oiled criticism machine."
Me: "Thanks, D."

This is the first thing I've said in a long time that could even be construed as pointlessly critical. My sister is constantly making sweeping judgmental statements abou tmy parents (my dad in particular), their decisions, and how she told them so. She cannot see this.

These are just two examples. I don't really care what my sister thinks anymore. I've tried to talk to her about this to no avail. She cannot see how judgmental she is, and how her attitude is not helpful to anyone in the family. My parents don't really listen to her either at this point. If she becomes extremely confrontational, they will not let her get away with false statements and accusations, but generally they just ignore her constant negative assessments of everything they say and do.

I feel bad making this unhappy post about my family. My family used to be so normal. We ate together, went to church together, watched movies together, had family devotions together. But at this point, I feel like the family has fallen apart. My parents are broken. My youngest sister is bipolar and is a different person from the one I knew a few years ago. My other sister is married and lives far away. I wish that I could help them more, but there is not much I can do, except try to be an encouragement to my parents and my sister. I'm hoping that as I become closer to God I will have more of God's love to share with them.

I want a cigarette

No tobacco for me, though.

Tonight I feel small legs around my neck, tiny feet inside my chest, hands inside my head. I see motion out of the corner of my eyes. Earlier I watched my mother cry while eating dinner. It is her 60th birthday today, but I had little joy to give her; what I had, I did. My parents are out of money, and neither of them has a job. My mother may be well enough to start looking again; she's trying. My father's trying to get on social security for his disabilities, and has enlisted the assistance of a prominent social security law firm. I cannot help them. If I knew why this is happening to them, it wouldn't help them either.

I feel as if a cushion of air that has been flying me above obsidian stones has vanished. I feel as if I've lost something I never had. I feel like an idiot. I cycle through feeling nothing and feeling crushed, feeling only for myself, then feeling everything but myself, and then nothing at all.

This post is almost entirely pointless, nothing more than steam from a pressure gauge, but I'm posting it because I must be reminded how ridiculous my feelings can be, and how I cannot rely on them.

I feel like a large dog has me in its jaws and is shaking me, pausing, shaking me harder, pausing again, and so on. I do not know what is going to break or how, but I am beginning to feel at my limits. I am contending with upheaval in areas of work, money, family, romance, and the spiritual. I do not know what God wants me to learn through all of this. Obviously, to rely on him. Hopefully there's something not so obvious in there as well.

Just one thing that's been troubling me: I have been feeling pressured to reconsider my views on scripture, yet again. Lately I've been wondering if I've thrown the baby out with the bathwater, and a conversation I had last night has me chewing the cud again on this topic. It would be so much easier if I could just believe again that the Bible is the word of God. But I cannot force myself to re-believe, and arguments may penetrate my mind, but they cannot take the place of a genuine belief. So this is in God's hands. I mentioned before that God has whittled me down spiritually to only the most basic faith. Perhaps the revisiting of this issue is a part of the rebuilding process. I hope so. I'm tired of being viewed as a substandard Christian because of this.

Today I do not want to go to church because there are many things I need to do. But I can't concentrate on these things in order to get them done. I can't sit still for more than a few minutes. So I will go.

Communication Part 1: Thoughts, Feelings, and Beliefs

I love communication. Exchanging ideas with other people is extremely rewarding, but communication is limited. Language, our primary means of communication, is a convention, and no two people have an identical set of convention paramaters within their minds. Translating thoughts, feelings, and beliefs into words is no mean feat, and I think it's fair to say that everyone runs into hitches and snags here and there. We add vocal inflections, noises, and body language to verbal communication in order to enhance the meaning and impact of our words, but this adds an additional layer of complexity that can both help and hinder. This is an enormous topic, and I have no idea how many books, lectures, discussions, and knock-down, drag-out brawls have been dedicated to it. With this in mind, I'm not going to try to tackle the entire beast, but rather to hit some strategic points in hopes of taming it just a little. In this rather unprocessed essay, I will use myself as an example a lot. You might get the impression that I am deeply disturbed, but I'm using myself for simplicity's sake, not as an actual example. I'm also going to talk a lot about hurt because I see hurt as one of the primary dangers of communication problems.

The ideas that we communicate can be broken down into three categories: Thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. By thoughts I mean ideas that are based on rationality, syllogisms, experiences, cause and effect, etc. By feelings, I mean intuitions, emotions, and other senses that extend beyond the five physical senses. By beliefs, I mean things that we hold to be true, regardless of physical, empirical, or logical evidence. I consider many communication problems to be a result of confusing these categories.

Sometimes feelings are confused with beliefs. This is easy to do because both feelings and beliefs have qualities that extend beyond the intellect and the senses. Sometimes it's difficult to distinguish between the two. So what is the harm in confusing the two? Let's consider the qualities of feelings in contrast to the qualities of beliefs. To some extent, everything that we know and experience is founded upon beliefs. We believe that our senses are communicating in actuality what is happening around us. We believe that we exist. We believe that things that happen have causes. We believe that God does or does not exist. Beliefs are strong and they do not change readily because they govern our thoughts and actions. When beliefs change, there is often a paradigm change as well that leads to a change in behavior. For this reason, we guard our beliefs carefully as a natural part of self-preservation.

Feelings, however, change because emotions change, situations change, and intuitions change. One minute I might feel like everyone loves me. The next I might feel like the lowest of the low, despicable. If I regard my feelings as beliefs, then I will end up making false assertions or false accusations toward people. If I am feeling unloved, it becomes easy to interpret someone's actions through my own feelings and come to the conclusion that someone's actions were intended to hurt me. When I regard my feelings as simply feelings, and I later feel differently, however, I may realize that the other person meant me no ill will. If, however, I take those feelings and elevate them to the status of a belief, then later, when my feelings have calmed, my belief in that other person's ill will will not dissipate. I am building a belief system of persecution. The result is an inability to address the real issue, leading to perplexing arguments that cannot easily be resolved, and deepened hurt within both me and the other person, which strengthens this errant belief system.

When beliefs are regarded as feelings, often the result is a seemingly fickle attitude, confusing changes of mind, and guilt. For example, if I believe that some behavior is ethically wrong, yet I discount this belief as a feeling, and I am involved in some type of relationship with someone who engages in this behavior, then the result will likely be an outward expression of not minding that other person's actions, while inside I will find myself experiencing extreme disapproval, anger, guilt, and possibly hurt as a result. The discussions and arguments that result from this will be tainted by my beliefs regarding this person's behavior, but because I think that I should be okay with the other person's behavior, I cannot say what I really believe. Once again, the issue at hand will be mistaken, and the arguments will become perplexing and unresolvable.

Other times, feelings and thoughts are confused. This type of situation seems more straightforward to me. Thoughts are rational and have reasons behind them. Feelings are as valuable as thoughts, but when feelings are treated as thoughts, miscommunication ensues. Though the result is similar to the result of confusing feelings and beliefs, I find the confusing of thoughts and feelings to be more insidious because this type of error can result in a skewed memory. If, once again, I feel hurt by someone, it becomes easy to misremember their actions and words in light of the way that I felt at the time. So when the actions and words in question come up again, I am contending with an entirely different impression of the situation than the other person. What ensues are discussions of who said exactly what and did exactly what when, with two different versions of the story in conflict. Similarly, if I feel righteous in my position, then the discussion can become skewed in my memory by this feeling. This is extremely difficult to deal with because, once again, as time goes on, the issue at hand is not addressed in my communication with the other person. The only solution I am aware of is to maintain consciousness of my own feelings and to keep those separate from deep emotions I may be feeling at the time. Awareness of the other person's feelings is also essential. When someone seems irrational or otherwise behaves in a perplexing way, it is often because of underlying feelings that may or may not be related to the situation at hand.

When I feel hurt, I desire vindication. Admitting that I am mistaken when I feel hurt is doubly wounding. I think that this is fairly universal, and it is important to recognize that when someone is hurt, I don't necessarily want to win an argument or come out on top in a discussion. Rather, the more important thing is to address the feelings and situation around the hurt. As an analytical person, it is difficult to let go of the intellectual side of a discussion in order to explore the feelings and beliefs behind someone else's assertions, but it is often necessary. I want to drive straight to the heart of a matter and determine whether or not I am being reasonable, or if I will discover problems in the other person's stance. Truth is always my ultimate goal, but love, understanding, and kindness should not be sacrificed for the sake of truth. Feelings exist for reasons and must be addressed and contended with, both for myself and others, so I must often drive a crooked road to the heart of the discussion. Sometimes the destination changes. Sometimes the journey can be significantly shortened by getting at the feelings and beliefs that are in play.

More to come...

coming clean

Yesterday morning walking along the green waters of the Susquehanna with the sun on my back, the mud and snow beneath my feet, and the blue sky deep and cool overhead, I felt my scattered thoughts and emotions converge for a small space in time. As I leaned against a leaning tree and took in the loveliness of the scenery, for a moment, the low sun hit the water at just the right time and angle, dazzling my eyes and making me smile unconsciously. The simple beauty of the moment struck me as romantic.

Though romance has many meanings, I think of it as a certain rightness, a consummation of feelings and ideas that cannot be forced, a harmony of separate entities that speaks to an underlying connection of truth. As the water danced with the sun's light, it occurred to me that that was nothing special in and of itself. It needed context. What made it romantic was the larger picture -- the trees, the sky, the rough and the calm portions of the river, the sky, the time of day, and the solitude. Without a meaningful context, romance becomes a veneer, just a nice decoration. Furthermore, what created the romantic situation was not the addition of something nice to a dull place, but rather a convergence of the aspects of the place that worked together harmoniously because of the way that they had grown. Similarly, in a romantic relationship, it is the harmony of the disparate parts that provides fertile soil for romance to grow naturally. Romance is not added to a relationship like a spice, but rather it grows from and through the relationship because of what was sewn into the relationship.

Romance, relationship, marriage, and purpose have been on my mind a lot lately. It's as if I've experienced a revelation that has brought me to understand that God has brought me through long periods of being alone to show me that I am not meant to be alone.

There are a lot of negative associations packaged with the notion of needing someone. If I'm a Christian, I'm only supposed to need God. But I don't think God was talking shit when he said that it is not good for the man to be alone. This was before sin entered the picture. I definitely have learned the hard way that I am no good alone. I believe that the unification of a man and a woman is truly a catalyst for bringing the two closer to God. It is not impossible to draw near to God as a single person, but it is much more difficult. (Yes, there are people who are exceptions, but these are not the rule, and I am not one of them.)

Though some might say that I shouldn't need anyone other than myself (or God), I have come to realize how good it would be to be married to a woman who will support me when I need to persevere, who will rebuke me when I lose sight of truth, who will challenge me when I am uncertain, and who will generally complement me in areas of strength and weakness. I feel within me the potential for qualities that cannot be realized while I am alone. The issue of need is an issue of goals -- I don't need anyone else to live; heck, I could muddle my way through life without knowing God, just as millions of others have, but if it is my goal to grow close to God and to reach my potential within the kingdom of God, then I believe that I need someone with me to achieve that goal.

Everyone I know who has gotten married and started a family has been changed through it. It is true that I could go through life as a loner, living for myself with only regard for how my actions affect myself, but I know in my heart of hearts that I will never be fulfilled through this life. It is frightening to me to consider being united for life with another person because I do so value time to myself, but I believe that if I find the woman who fits the description above, I will be able to experience a paradigm shift in the idea of "me-time" and also to have what time I do still need to myself. I also know that having a family changes a person's priorities and desires. I want to grow and change. This is only an example of one area that I know will be affected.

As a loner, I've never had a desire to be married, per se. But, having been involved in a number of serious relationships, I've found that when I am with someone I love, the desire to be married is intrinsic. My mistake has been that I have not been with the right person in these relationships. I will never get married simply for the sake of getting married; I do not believe that this will bear the fruit that I hope for. She must be the right person.

Why am I making my thoughts on this subject public? Because I feel that it is the responsible thing to do. These thoughts have been rattling around within me in an unstructured fashion for some time, but I have never made these thoughts public, and it becomes easy to just sort of think about things, say, "Hmmm," and leave it at that.

Pride in self-sufficiency be damned. I need a good woman.

Edit: This is not a personals ad. I am not on the prowl, scoping out every single Christian woman with childbearing hips. I don't really see my modus operandi changing, but rather my goals in life and my attitudes toward marriage and manhood.

caught up

when i was a kid, i would ride my bike to the shopping center not far from home for no pressing reason. this shopping center was L-shaped, and in the crook of the L, tiny tornados would pick up the dust, supermarket circulars, receipts, gumwrappers, and empty cigarette packs, and whirl them around fantastically. i tried to jump into the little swirls to feel the wind spinning around me, but never really got it. what i did get as i watched, however, was an impression of the helplessness of the little shreds of detritus whose existence was governed by the wind. i wondered where they came from, how they got to this shopping center, and where they would go after this. i imagined them being stepped on, driven over, thrown into trash cans, and worn away to dust. i wondered what it was like to have no control over what happened to me, and i was glad that i didn't have to live my life in such a helpless fashion. of course, i knew that the trash that spun in the tiny tornado didn't know that it had no control. (i had an odd affection for inanimate objects as a child -- i would rescue items from the trash that my parents threw away.)

what i didn't know was that my own life was much like the tiny tornado. i didn't know how little control i had over my life, because of the enormity of the world and the forces that move upon it, my own smallness, and because of the activeness of God in life. yes, i had and have some decision-making power, and when i look back on my life i can see how the decisions i've made have, in part, brought me to where i am today. but every now and then, i catch a glimpse of the tornado again from the inside, and feel myself being spun, apparently out of control, now dipping close to the concrete, now spiraling toward the sun. this is where faith realizes that the pieces of me are all in God's hands, that he will not dash me against the ground meaninglessly, nor will he allow me to randomly collide with other children in this melee -- he holds them as well.

so why the whirlwind? why the seeming randomness? maybe it builds faith. probably, like a tornado, it isn't truly random. it's just too complex for my childish mind to decipher. God, i'm going to close my eyes now. i'm going to fix my thoughts, my hopes, and my fears upon you. help me not to worry, but to hear only your voice. help me to sleep.