Sheep C: You, Alone

The Sheep have been having a conversation lately. This is news, because we’ve all scattered or, at least I have scattered. Sheep M bleated a call to return, and began an e mail conversation which eventually led me to observe that we’re just—each of us—on our own.

Careful, now. I have a tendency toward the bitter because of my recent marital woes. One of the things I have realized—and railed against—is that I am on my own. And, I repeat, that is true of us each and all.

Alone except, of course, for God…but I’m still mulling that one over, and that’s another post.

The sign in the picture (if you can’t read it) says “Life’s Highway.” That’s what the sheep is on—alone. Others can watch, but they can’t travel it.

Sheep M struggled with my saying this. She has been through similar trials a little ahead of me and assured me that the initial period of separation is, indeed, fraught with loneliness, but that it passes. She added that now she is happier than ever, surrounded by loved ones. No longer lonely.

She misunderstood. Do not confuse what I am saying with “loneliness.” In fact, I am not lonely. I, too, have supportive family and friends and am thankful for them all. What I mean is this: That, in the end, only I can make the decisions for my own life and only I will live with them. Only I can feel my own pain, only I know what reaction helps or exacerbates it. No one, not even those closest to me, can step inside my skin—or even my shoes—and know my problems, their solutions.

I don’t think this is deniable. Just think about the basics: stump your toe and your friend says, “Oooooo, that hurt!” Well, she may know that it hurt her when she last did it, or she may imagine that it hurts, never having experienced a toe-stumping, but she does not know, really, how badly this time hurt you or, indeed, if it did. President Bill Clinton’s famous, “I feel your pain,” was just so much rhetoric.

I did not always feel so. I once felt like a part of a “marital team,” feeling for all the world like whatever came to us, we would face it together. Ooops!

Husband grew to feel differently, and he never shared that he did until he walked out the door. No one else in the family had a clue of the betrayal scheme; he was alone in it—well, except maybe for his girlfriend. But the point is, that you never know what’s in another person’s heart; we are stand-alone units.

I confess that I worry about myself sometimes; am I hard-hearted? I thought about the pain in Haiti and in Chile from the earthquakes, to be sure. I watched in horror, like you probably did, and I gave money to help. But, I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and confess to you that none of that horrific tragedy kept me awake at night. Did it you? Am I just a heartless wretch?

I’ve though it over and realized that I really can’t feel their pain. And I don’t think I’m meant to do so to much more degree than I do. I think of the character, “May” in Sue Monk Kidd’s novel, The Secret Life of Bees. May had the torment of being able to feel the pain of others-including strangers-to a much greater degree than do most. And, in the end, it was her undoing. We just can’t do it. The load is too great for our spindly legs.

And so, how does the flock fit into this stand-alone world? Good question, for it surely does, and we are surely meant to be flock creatures, not alone. Too many wolves outside the flock. If you look you can see the eyes of the wolves of depression and despair in the darkness outside the cote.

I’ll get back to you more on that flock thing…in the meantime, what do you think? You, alone, know—until you share. C

Ewe Party- A Gathering of Sheep

This past weekend I was in the company of a group of wonderful women. I've written about the importance of belonging before, so you won't be too surprised if I continue with the theme. There is something deep within each of us that compels us to find the place where we are safe. The 80's had a show that centered on that idea-Cheers.It sold itself on the idea that it was a place where everyone knew your name. Doesn't your heart just leap at the idea of something like that being possible? A place where you are not invisible?A place in which you are known?

Something amazing happens when women gather. We talk! At first it's surface information. Similar to sticking your toes in water to test the temperature. On finding that to our liking, we plunge in! The talk moves from information gathering to the common place we all inhabit-our doubts, our fears, our deepest heart pains. We turn to each other to find validation and acceptance. Our hearts and lives are lightened by the sharing and the laughing that gently flows over us, healing us in gentle waves as we realize we are not alone in our struggles.

We in no way solved any problems this weekend. We shared, laying our burdens aside. We invited each other to be a part of our own personal journey.

Times like this are an oasis in the wilderness. A place of rest for the weary traveler. In gathering we share and discover that we are not alone in this. Others have trod similar paths. They offer encouragement that the current troubles are not the final destination. They are temporary and will pass. New strength and courage are found to pick yourself up and go at it again. Shored up with the knowledge that others know and care about your journey. The journey isn't over at this point, but the loving Shepherd has provided a safe place to rest and relax.  Sheep M 12/15/08

To the flock, all sheep matter

"Up, up and away in my beautiful balloon..."

I wanted to chime in on what Sheep C wrote.  Not in the way imagined. I wanted to tell a personal story and share with you a gift my children blessed me with.  For my 4oth birthday (and I won't be telling you how long ago that was!) my children arranged for me to ride in a hot air balloon. They did a wonderful job of keeping it a secret. They enlisted the help of friends and family. It was the perfect gift! Little did they know what they had gotten themselves into-

Arrangements made, we awaited the day of the ride. All of us would be going together. It was no longer just a celebration of my day, but of our lives, our family.  We would be doing this together and we were like children on the night before Christmas.  The morning of our ride, we were all up before dawn driving to the field where we were to launch.  Our first surprise awaited us. There was no majestic balloon hovering over the ground. All we saw was the man and his truck. The balloon, he told us, was waiting for us to breathe life into her. The first order of business was to help the pilot unpack the balloon. This may seem like a fairly straight forward affair. Not! There is so much that must be done just so. The basket is attached in just the right way. (Who could argue with that. Once air born, that's your safety net, so to speak.) The the balloon is laid out on the ground. Guide ropes separated from the basket attachment ropes.  At this point we began to divide the labor. Some of us were at the basket end holding it in place as the balloon inflated. Others were using the guide ropes to hold the balloon and prevent it from rising before being fully inflated.

Once all the preparation was complete, we all boarded.  Oh the lurch to my stomach, the thrill of lift off! There is not enough space or words to convey that single moment. No longer was I tied by gravity to this spot of earth. I was air born. A freedom one cannot experience in a plane. I had a panoramic view of the sun rise that morning. How perfect was the timing that let all the work be finished just as the first rays of the new day were creeping across the horizon!

There is more to this memory. So many lessons were engraved on my heart that day.  The one that had the most immediate impact, however, was the crash landing! Yep, we crash landed. One of the oversights was not having a landing crew. Apparently, you need at least one person to remain on the ground and track your flight. When you are ready to land, this person will be  waiting until one of the guide ropes in within reach (this requires expert skills on the part of the pilot as the warm air in the balloon in cooled thus sending the balloon closer to earth), grab it and in concert with the pilot, guide the balloon in for a landing. Without this person, crashing is the only way to land.

As odd as this may sound, crashing seemed the perfect way to end this ride of a life time. We were all in this together and I could just imagine the stories I would be regaling my friends with.  But like every other aspect of this ride, there were rules to follow.

The pilot explained that the heat to air ratio had to be calibrated to (blah, blah, blah...I enjoy the stories of science, it's just that the practical side of it has always sounded like a foreign language to me) Suffice it to say that we were told to hold on.  If one of us were to fall out (never thought that was a possibility!) it would endanger all of us. We were all needed to land the balloon safely.  To lose the weight of one of us, would shoot the balloon back into the air and the pilot would not have control of the flight.

Whoa! Instantly as we prepared ourselves for the crash, I thought of the parable of the sheep. (See, even then I was being primed for this blog!) The shepherd left the 99  to find the one lost sheep. Why? Because we all matter. We can't do this alone.  Suddenly a story I've known since childhood blossomed into a beautiful truth.

I matter to God in a way that until the crash prep, I couldn't take in. Just as a puzzle isn't complete until all the pieces fit together, God's world, His plan included me.  I wasn't just some biological result of my parents. I hadn't been born at a random time in the history of the world. My place, my belonging, my purpose had been established before the first word of creation was spoken.  I mattered! And so do you! This life, this moment in history requires all of us. No matter the circumstances of our individual lives, they/we are all intertwined, woven into a beautiful picture.  The loss of one, endangers all the rest.  Sheep M-12/10/08