Bonfire of the Vanities: A Dream

I was dropped into my grandmother’s house. It was the eve of Christmas day and my grandmother’s sister, the matriarch of the West Coast, was visiting for the holiday so everything was more extravagant than usual, than I remember. My grandmother’s sister sat in the where my grandmother usually sat, while my grandmother herself occupied the place where my grandfather had once been long enthroned. ‘That’s odd,’ I thought, ‘Gammie would never giver up her royal position.’ But, everyone seemed so full of mirth that I didn’t think much of it. Then I saw him. A boy, about my age, with a blue shirt and thick curly hair. I at once knew he was my cousin, but had never seen him before in my life. He greeted me as if we had grown up together, going on family vacations, visiting for special occasions, doing all the normal things cousins do. ‘Do I trust him?’ I wondered. He seemed so nice, so congenial. I took my normal seat to the immediate left of where my grandmother usually sat but soon realized that I needed a drink. My grandmother’s sister flashed me a winning smile and said, “In the kitchen, dear.” I had seen deep red wine scattered across the table, but I can’t stand the stuff so I search for white. All I could see was a pitcher of red and turned around, acquiescing to my fate, to get a glass. When I returned to the drinks, there was a pitcher of white wine sitting next to the red. I was very surely confused for the first time since my arrival, who had put it there? Nevertheless, I thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have to drink the blood red wine and carefully poured myself a glass. All at once, my Aunt Joan was at my side, and, before I knew what she was doing, she had put some herbs and spices in my drink that looked more appropriate for a Bloody Mary. “It’s all the rage now,” she assured me of the curious condiments. It looked disgusting, but I took my seat to finish my lamb, the traditional Kirchner delicacy. Suddenly, we were sitting on the floor in the sitting room all gathered around to watch home movies and open a few presents. The cranberry carpet was so familiar yet so… distant. They started playing a video of me, the foreign cousin and a new player in the mix, a baby cousin, one year old, on the beach. Again, he was wearing another, lighter blue shirt. Out of the blue came a giant, cartoon crow with big yellow eyes. I could now feel myself in the video, in the scene. I was trying to discern if the crow was friend or foe since my little cousin was just the size to become carrion for this frightful animal. The crow walked slowly past her, my alien cousin closer to her than I. I could tell from the way he sauntered that the crow had the cruelest intentions of consuming my little cousin so I yelled at my older cousin to protect her, he wasn’t moving fast enough, it was like a dream where you’re moving as fast as you can but it feels like running through gelatin. Again, all at once, I was out of the video scene, hung in suspense. I returned from my reverie to the entire family destroying every CD, vinyl, and tape recorder in the house for fear that the cartoon crow was hiding in the mega pixels and had it in mind to obtain my cousin for food at any price. The affair had the urgency of preparation for war. I thought of all the family videos lost, all the music that would never be heard again, and I joined in. I was vigorously shattering an old CD when I looked up at my odd cousin and said, with a winning smile, “This is fun.”

Contentment: Reflections On Lent

I was lying in bed staring at the sparkly lights across the room when I realized: I don’t feel sad or anxious or bad at all. I’m not manic or even necessarily happy but content.

I looked up the word “content” on my dictionary app (my fav app) and its history is long and distinguished but one of its early meanings gave me the language to express what I’m feeling right now: “Sense evolved through “contained,” “restrained,” to “satisfied,” as the contented person’s desires are bound by what she already has.”

This Lent, I gave up extraneous noise and devotionals that I discerned I was using to satisfy my anxious psyche. It took real discipline to sit in silence with the Lord day after day. Now, at the culmination and release from Lenten commitments, I find myself craving silence with the Lord. I’m okay just being alone, he and I, again.

But this contentment didn’t come without trial. It was a fight to be present to the Lord, and, in opening myself up to Reality, opening myself up to my pain. Two verses keep running through my head as I type this. James 1:2,3 in the Weymouth NT translation: “Reckon it nothing but joy…whenever you find yourselves hedged in by the various trials. Be assured that the testing of your faith leads to the power of endurance.” I feel stronger now. Less like Much Afraid in the Hannah Hurnard’s classic Hinds’ Feet On High Places. I can feel that more power of endurance has been forged in me during this sojourn through Lent. It didn’t come easy, without nightmares or anxiety attacks or depression, but the Lord saw me through these 40 days and galvanized my weak little spirit with strength like a lion. Because in my weakness he is STRONG.

Thank you, Lord, for reigning me in and making me truly content on this the day of my Lord’s Resurrection. The journey is far from over and I am far from being “perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” but the Victory is won!