Things that might have been . . .

I find myself under a cloud of melancholy on this last day of summer break.  And it's not one of those pretty, fluffy, find-the-puppy-face clouds.

From the personality/psychological analysis point of view, I am primarily a ChlorMel:  someone who is "industrious, competitive, forceful, and capable, combining verbal aggressiveness with care for detail."  However, at times, the "mel" part, the part that is "focused on assessment of positives and negatives" wins out, and I get stuck.  And sometimes that stuck place is very ugly.  Source quoted:  http://www.nativeremedies.com/articles/choleric-melancholy-personality-types.html  


I grieve today not just because starting Monday I will have to resume the way-too-early-alarm-setting, list-making, frantic mom-taxi-driving, constant-paper-grading pace of the school year.  (As those who know me best know . . . I actually thrive in that chaos.  I don't always keep my cool, but I do survive and usually do a competent job completing the tasks set before me).  Not because I only got about half of my summer around-the-house task list completed (I let myself off the hook on those lists years ago - but I still make them . . . a girl has to dream, right?!).  And not because I will miss the afternoons of reading, listening to my kids play (and even listening to them complain about chores or fight . . .), or the evenings of late-night TV watching and board-game playing. . . although I will miss those things, and more.

Honestly, I cannot put my finger on the source of my grief exactly.  But I'm pretty sure it has something to do with unmet expectations.  Those lurking, manipulative, dishonest wishes for domestic and social and career harmony and perfection are so quick to rear their ugly head when I have too much time to think about them.  Which is one of the ironies of summer.

Things I didn't accomplish this summer loom overhead in those foreboding clouds.

• I didn't lose 20 pounds (again).  
• I didn't clean out every closet in the house (I did tackle two) or organize the garage (yeah, that one was really on the list to make my husband feel guilty). 
• I didn't read The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich (yes, I really want to).  
• I didn't get up every morning (okay, any morning) at 6 AM and have "coffee and Jesus" on my front porch. A few 9 AM rendezvous were lovely, though.
• I didn't update this blog.  Since November, actually, as you can plainly see.  I apologize in advance for the length of this post.  Thanks for reading. :)
• I didn't start working on the book I fully intend to write before I'm 50. I just can't decide what to write about...
• I didn't update my children's photo albums.  By the time I start Harley's, I am sure I will have forgotten every detail of her babyhood.  Sorry, sweet girl.
• I didn't fill the freezer with nutritious casseroles so my family can have a good hot dinner every night. I did freeze some diced chicken breast pieces and browned ground beef. Now, if I can just remember where they are buried amidst the Bagel Bites and frozen peas.
• I didn't raise an organic garden and can or freeze the produce (I did try. I have no idea what happened to those squash and tomato plants. I'm blaming it on the supermoon.)
• I didn't have long, meaningful conversations with my children about life, love, and faith.  Or very many short ones.  

 . . . and I could go on.

So, how can I tie my feeble words together and make some Pollyanna-esque narrative emerge amidst my jaded perspective, one that is supposed to be tinged - undergirded, even - by Romans 8:28 and Psalm 37:4?  One that should focus on the grace and peace that only Jesus can bring and strengthened by His love?  One that should include counting my blessings and standing on the promises?

I have no idea.

I grieve this lack of knowledge and yet at the same time I celebrate it.  To realize that I am not going to be able to come up with a plan, a list, a strategy that will miraculously make today a day of celebration or Monday's alarm less painful is somehow comforting.  The dichotomy that comes when a somewhat capable person realizes that she is no longer capable is God's gift to the list-makers and boot-strap-pullers of the world.

As cynical and sarcastic - and downright mean, sometimes - as I can be, I still am thankful for this truth, even though I do not embrace it on a daily basis.  I let my expectations for myself and others permeate my thoughts way too often.  For example, here are some thoughts that flit through my mind - and, unfortunately, sometimes out of my mouth - in reaction to friends, family members,  casual acquaintances, or fellow Walmart shoppers:

• Toward parents that are less strict than we are:  "You are going to let your kids do WHAT?"  
• Toward parents who are more strict than we are: "You are NOT going to let your kids do that?"  
• To fellow moms who know how to say "No" better than I do:  "You can't find time to help.  Really?"  "If I can find time for this, anyone can."
• To fellow teachers:  "You are going to show a movie in class?  A whole movie?"  "You don't want to try that new cooperative learning strategy?  Why not?  It's SO wonderful."  "You don't spend 2 hours a night grading/planning engaging lessons?  Slacker..."
• Toward my children:  "Get up.  Just get up.  I'm tired, too, but I get up when the alarm goes off." "Please stop making your little sister say 'purple Barbie in a Ferrari' and laughing because she can't say her 'r's' . . . " 
• Toward my husband:  "Please stop hitting the snooze button."  After getting up an hour and 6-7 snooze-alarms later:  "You are ridiculous.  Set the alarm for the time you want to get up . . . and just get up."

. . .  and I could go on.

But if I go on in that, I am miserable.  Our church is in the middle of studying Romans, and I've been blessed to hear thoughtful exegesis of this amazing book for the last several months.  I am no Bible scholar, but I do appreciate a good rhetorical analysis . . . and boy, have we gotten that! - and more.  I am sure that my own study and reflection is only scratching the surface of all God has for me to learn about Him through Paul's words to the Romans, but right now, I am clinging to the hope that those whose only hope is in Christ MUST not go on in this manner.  We are compelled toward obedience, no matter what our personality, circumstances, or relationships are made of.  We go kicking and screaming and sobbing sometimes, but we are compelled nonetheless.

I do not get that.  I want 1 + 1 to always equal 2.  I want my thriftiness and obedience in giving to equal prosperity and a debt-free life.  I want my faithfulness to study and hear God's Word to equal an undivided mind and heart.  I want my commitment to my marriage to equal eternal romantic bliss (or at least a fun date night every month). I want my unflagging loyalty to Christ and his church to equal blessings and intimate friendships and back-slapping holy fellowship that affirms ME.

But instead I get moments like this.  Moments where tears are streaming down my face because of not only the lost moments . . . but also the beautiful, unexplainable, unexpectedly FOUND ones. Not only because of the items NOT crossed off the list, but because I have the freedom and blessing to even HAVE a list (yes, I know that one is a bit martyr-like, but I really do mean it!).  Tears not only of frustration but of wonder that God loves me enough not to leave me in my sin.  He loves ME.  Overweight, task-oriented, self-righteous, pity-party loving ME.  How truly amazing is that?!

I cannot look back at the summer of 2013 for too long.  Yes, I will remember both the good and the bad - as we remember all the phases of our life.  But I cannot GO back and cannot live in condemnation.  God will redeem the moments that the "locusts have eaten" for His glory and my sanctification.  He promised he would complete the good work He started in me, a work that included a moment in time in June 1980 when I trusted Jesus' work on the cross to save me from my sin.  He didn't promise this based on my ability to complete a summer to-do list or a read-the-Bible-in-a-year plan, or even - blessedly - on my ability to "hold my tongue" or maintain a "gentle and quiet spirit."  Yes, all these things (in some form or fashion) should be a part of my sanctifying walk of obedience, but His love for me is not dependent up on them.  I obey because I've been saved, not in order TO be saved.

I must surrender all.  "Worldly pleasures all foresaking."  The line of that great hymn pierced my spirit last month when singing it in worship.  "Worldly pleasures" do not just refer to diamonds and purses and houses and vacations.  Worldly pleasures are also the idealistic pieces of the world we create in relation to our spouses, our children, our friendships, our entertainment or hobbies, our career satisfaction.  Yep, even those can become our counterfeit savior.  Ha - counterfeit!  We had our first experience with someone giving us counterfeit money this summer.  How frustrating that was.  But how easy it was to believe the lie.  Yet the piece of paper was meaningless, no matter how much we didn't want to believe it was.  

So today, I still feel the weight of this cloud.  I'm sad to move away from the mostly carefree days of summer.  Just like our southern summer thunderstorms, though, the power and drama is short-lived and will be replaced by a clarity in the air, the sunshine poking through the layers of black and purple and gray, the promise of cooler temperatures to come.  I choose to believe this.  And I think I see Elvis in one of those clouds...