Melancholy Musings

Today is my church's 80th anniversary. There is a huge commemoration service going on right now at the church, complete with the last four pastors making speeches, pipe organ "wows," brass quartet and mass choir. Everything has a celebratory flair to it. I know, because I watched it on the internet this morning, sitting up in bed in my pajamas.
Sam went over to the church today because he is a producer for the televised broadcast of the events. I fell back asleep after he left.

It seems that my body is telling me to stay still and do nothing for awhile. Indeed, I don't want to go anywhere, see anyone, do anything. There has been too much hoopla of late: Grampa living with us for three months; Stepdaughter #1 moving in with us; difficulties with Mother; a reminder that my family is more distant than I considered them to be. Now I just want to sit on my bed and look out the window at the snowy mountains. During the week I've been very busy putting up curtains, shelves and hooks in the garage, rearranging boxes of everyone's stuff in storage, raking leaves and putting them in the garden where they can turn to mulch. Given how much rain we've been getting, it won't take long for them to decompose. There is just so much to be done around the house, which has been really enjoyable. But I haven't even started putting together two of the three syllabi for my classes that start on January 5th, nor have I revised two articles that are due at the end of the month; nor signed Mother up for Medicare Plan D.

Yesterday, the Christmas tree came down and all the ornaments went into boxes and back out to the garage. It was the first time I've felt too old to do this kind of thing. I gloried in the "Bah-Humbug!" feeling that came along with it all and I made a silent vow not to bother with any of it next year. The ornaments and colors seemed to add sadness to some internal nagging I've had for several weeks now. I suppose it's because I miss my father, am tired of a demanding mother, am heartsick that none of my siblings called over the holidays, and now have an irritated stepchild in the Marshall Islands who doesn't think Sam and I have done enough for her from afar, especially over the holidays.

Last night I climbed into bed at 5:30 p.m. to read and surf the net until 9:30 or so. Sam joined me and read for awhile before he drifted off. It was as I was idly doing a search for college friends that I read that the sister of a very dear friend had died. Her husband wrote a heartbreaking tribute to her through the form of a CD (he is a musician). It moved me to tears and only added to my sense of internal discomfort. (I was so disturbed that I even dreamed about her last night). My friend appears to still be teaching at a Christian high school, leading out in her community and church in very significant and meaningful ways. I was very proud of her and delighted to see a picture of her. We had such fun times in college and I wish I could see her again. I think I'll call her on Monday.

Then I wondered if I could find anyone else from college. Yes--I found three of the intelligencia of our college--one of whom wondered aloud why I, "an intelligent girl," he called me, was studying nursing instead of something "more intellectually stimulating." I could have beaned him and asked him if he'd like to have a dumb nurse or an intelligent nurse to take care of him, should he ever be hospitalized. He was mute with a superior air in response to my question. As I looked at the pictures of how these guys look now, I was surprised at how they have changed. But more than that, it was apparent that for all the outward intellectualism of this group of guys, the most vocal one does not appear to be doing a great deal with himself.

This reminded me of the work of Terman in the 1950s. He studied young men whose IQ was 140 and higher to see what had become of them. The prevailing idea at the time was that the higher the IQ, the more successful the individual would be. He was surprised to see that this was not at all the case. It seemed to tie in to Daniel Goleman's idea that success has more to do with emotional intelligence (EQ) that intellectual intelligence. I believe it, thinking back on the college acquaintance who, as my British friend would say, "Fancies his lemon drops!" I wondered though, after looking intently at his face, if he has found joy in life, and if life has become what he had hoped it would be. Life takes all of us in such different directions. Some of us are early bloomers and some people--like me--are very late bloomers. But there's no way to know this when you're a college student. There is no way to know that for us late bloomers, life will have much more than we ever dreamed it could hold for us, and that the ignominy of being the class nerd or oddball, will no longer hang over our heads. And some who were the cool ones, fizzle out or live their very mundane lives, or marry someone with a terminal illness lurking inside of their body. For many of us, grace has worked its miracle in our lives so that some of the hardness and exactitude that marked our younger lives is softened. We have found that we are not that much different from the next Joe, only our circumstances have prevented us from being in their shoes. There is just no way to know what has happened in my friend's lives. As I looked at my classmates, I wished so much that there was a way to see them and to ask them about where life has taken them and what they have learned along the way.

And so life moves on. I've not felt this low in many years. It has been a very hard season and I'm exhausted for many reasons. So it is a good day to stay in my nightclothes and watch the two hawks slowly circling over the nearby golf course. Some sleep, some talking with Sam, a nice lunch, a good walk in the bracing air and sunshine, a lazy afternoon--these will be the antidote I need. I miss my friends here and abroad; I miss my father; I miss my easier, sunny college days; and I miss having what felt like an intact family.

As I was writing this, my cell phone rang. It was Stepdaughter #1 who excitedly told me that she just found out that she passed her nursing boards. Congratulations! What a wonderful step for her. But even nicer, how wonderful that she would call me to tell me. Me, the stepmother. Maybe there are good things on the horizon in that arena.

So life goes on with its ebb and flow of ups and downs. I am grateful for what I have and delighted for how life is moving forward. I will join the forward flow tomorrow and see where it takes me.