Blessed White Space
When we used to go to Disney with the kids, we would stay at the Polynesian Hotel. One of snack bars there, Captain Jack’s, had an offer that anyone who could eat their fifteen scoop, extra topping Sundae would not have to pay for it. Now of course I was living with a sane person who required I be a good example to the children in tow, but a part of me wanted to give it a try. What could be better than two scoops? Fifteen! Anyway I am sure that half way through I would have caved and been out $32.98
The point is that too much of anything is not good. We need some sort of balance in life. Now I want to stress that this is not a woe is me story in any way. I would not have missed teaching the plant classes or planting with the kids at Port Dick for a second. And I loved the time we spent at the zoo for special events and tours. Likewise our own gardens bring me an immense sense of peace. Sister Bridget’s class and the Book club have been wonderful. The time spent reading and meeting with the Franciscan group has been cherished. The social engagements that have filled our evenings were blessed events, and the Port Dick Park, the Angel of Hope, the tree planting around the village were inspirational. The time spent preparing for guitar lessons has been joyful.
And I can not thank God enough for the Zoey time! What a precious, wonderful gift to be any part of her life.
I have to confess that thrown into the mix was the decision to take advantage of a good deal, $300 worth of oak, so I would have it on hand for the summer project of rebuilding the hall staircase, only to discover that if I left it in the cellar until I had time to use it, it would turn into $1.50 in value because it would be warped beyond use. Therefore, In between other activities, I needed to do a major building project. I really enjoyed it, but it was stupid to get in that position to begin with. Now the blessed white space news!
Every Saturday morning I plan the following week. (Too many years in a classroom to let go of the habit!) This morning, I did a double take when I saw white space. Is it possible? We have all the gardens planted and mulched, well almost. Book Club is taking the summer off. We are back to a sensible, interesting, joyful stretch with lots of time to enjoy the gardens, enjoy Zoey, go to Hudson and Amsterdam and Oneonta to visit people we have not seen enough of in the last few months. We can get out to the cottage and celebrate the Fourth without needing to be anyplace else. And best of all, I can finish the hallway and start on the outside repairs, all in a slow, relaxed pace. I can get back to stretching and Pilates and exercise. I will have time for the bike riding and finally some horse time. I may get the books that have been piling up read and best of all, I may write down some of the stuff that has been flowing through my head for two months. Balance, balance, balance.
And maybe someone is offering a fifteen scoop sundae contest????

At some point in your life, you begin to know the endings. Early on, you only know the beginnings. Lives are built with certainty and absolutes. We search for defining images and reflections. We encourage and support each other in our delusions. Everything is so clear, so black or white.
“I am a teacher, a Catholic, an Irishman. I love chocolate, dogs and pizza. I don’t like succotash, cats or people that make me uncomfortable.”“ I believe --- and so on for ever.” And we are so certain we are right.
Then one day you wind up with a cat and you learn they are just as loveable as dogs. Then you meet someone who makes you terribly uncomfortable, but also makes you think and grow and you come to value them immensely.
One day being Catholic seems less important than being Christian. You learn the real history of Ireland and you see that they are just as screwed up as the rest of humanity. You retire and you are no longer a teacher, yet it is important to be something, so you recreate yourself into what you always wanted to be. If you are especially blessed, it is what you were always supposed to be.
In the arrogance of youth, you are certain you will never do “That” (Whatever that is) only to find that under the right stress you will indeed do “that”.
Immaturity allows you to hate, to reject, to throw away people who do not meet your standards. And then you see that the only one hurt was yourself. That far from “protecting” yourself, you cheated yourself out of the joy of diversity, of shared companionship.
Finally you start to attend funerals. And now you know the endings. All the contention and hurtfulness and revenge and pettiness seem just sad. What real harm would have come from forgiveness, from appreciating someone’s unique qualities? What great joy and good might have come from those acts?
And so I start each morning with a prayer asking for the Holy Spirit to work within my heart this day to remove any hate, any hurt any anger and to work to make me accepting and forgiving. It is a long, long struggle, but I am making some progress. Tomorrow I may try succotash again.