Another holiday season, another chance to confront the relative(ly) un-Norman Rockwellness of my family.
And here I was, thinking this would be a pretty dandy holiday, since I don't have to visit any next-of-kin in jail.
That's probably about as high as my expectations should get. Hoping for more is just a ticket to the blues.
Earlier this week, I read something a failed stockbroker named Bill Wilson wrote 48 years ago. Bill knew a thing or two about the blues and disappointment, failure and dead dreams.
"Though I still find it difficult to accept today's pain and anxiety
with any great degree of serenity -- as those more advanced in the
spiritual life seem able to do -- I can give thanks for present pain
nevertheless.
I find the willingness to do this by contemplating the lessons
learned from past suffering -- lessons which have led to the
blessings I now enjoy."
So yes, I am sad today, basting in a bitter sauce of self-pity. Despite my prayers, unsolicited advice, and shining good example, I can't make someone I love stop destroying his life.
He, like I do, suffers from a disease of body, spirit and mind that left untreated causes the sufferer to violate all his values and destroy everything he/she loves.
This downward spiral does not take holidays off, either. If anything, holidays escalate the going downhillness.
I am watching someone else very dear to me struggle and suffer the consequences of very bad decisions. Decisions remarkably like ones I myself made, and suffered for, two decades ago.
It occurs to me the only difference between crap and fertilizer is what grows out of it.
A few holidays ago, I was estranged from my son and had no idea where he was, alive or dead. So I decided to give money I would've spent on his presents to a recovery program for teenage addicts.
Last year, instead of presents for ourselves, we asked for donations to a residence for people on very limited incomes who would otherwise be homeless. A place he lived, briefly, and that was an island of stability and goodness in a sea of chaos.
Being unable to waste money on stuff for someone who wouldn't really appreciate it, created an opportunity to start a new tradition of giving to those less fortunate.
And it reminded me that unselfish giving makes me happy.
If I don't get too hung up on who gets the gift, but focus more on the fact that I am able to give to someone who needs things I generally take for granted, then I am much happier.
No, life is not turning out the way I'd hoped. For me, that is good news, because my life turned out better than anything I could have hoped.
My failure to live the life I dreamed of gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams.
Maybe my loved ones' failures will become their greatest blessings one day.
I can only hope.
