133. Don’t Blame – Change

Here’s something I figured out with therapy about my own mother and then about my own children. It’s about mistakes you make when your own children are growing.

You make mistakes—because you are human, because it’s the first time you ever had children, because you just do make mistakes. And at the very same time, you don’t intend to make those mistakes. Most of us are busy trying to correct the mistakes we feel our parents made with us, and in the process we make other mistakes.

But never did I get up in the morning and say to myself, “I think today I will do damage to Donna.” The reality is that I did the very best job I could do at the time.

Often I think we have insights about those mistakes, and often the children (sometimes after they are grown) also have insights—you know Mom really shouldn’t have done that in that particular way.

And I believe that when the insight comes the parent can forgive themselves, just as God forgives. Sometimes it’s appropriate to say to the child, “You know I finally figured out something and I just want to say that what I did was a mistake.” Sometimes it doesn’t work that way and it never gets said out loud.

I also think that when the child has the insight, particularly if it’s in an arena where the child thinks it has had some negative effect on him or her, then they have to claim it—the child who is now grown. That person has to know “I can change.” It’s hard work but it can be done and it is wrong for that person to go through life saying, “My mother did harm to me, it had this effect on me, poor me.” That person needs to say, “My mother did harm to me, it had this effect on me, and I can change the effect. It is no longer her fault. It is now my responsibility.”

I reached a place in therapy where I not only looked at the mistakes my mother made, or my father made, but I also looked at their strengths and how they had passed them on to me. So it’s multiple dimensions—I say thank you for the gifts; and I say it’s o.k. about the mistakes because I can do the work I need to do to change.

132. I Want To Do As Long As I Can

This starts with a story from when I worked in a nursing home as a music therapist. Each morning the day started with people coming into the white activity room to have coffee, to hear the news, to do a craft. And there was one woman who had had a stroke and one side was paralyzed. She maneuvered herself around in a wheelchair and every day we would set up her craft which we would fasten to a table with a clamp, and she would work all morning doing that craft with her one available hand. At the end of the morning, she would undo the clamp and put it in her lap, followed by the rather cumbersome craft. She’d wheel herself to the activity office door and one person would take it from her and put it in the office.

One day toward the end of the time she had left for some reason and I dismantled her craft and took it to the office. She came wheeling in, went to her table, saw the craft was gone, and stormed over (on her wheels) to me. She was mad. I didn’t know why. She didn’t have speech. I just couldn’t figure it out.

A month or two later I broke my ankle and was off work for a while, but then came back on crutches. I was managing to get around quite well, and felt good about it. But I also discovered that people were knocking themselves over trying to help me, sometimes coming close to knocking me over. I interrupted them and said, “I’m doing fine. Thanks but no thanks.”

Then, oh then, the proverbial lightbulb lit up and I thought of the woman with the stroke. I went to work the next day and set up her craft and once she came in, I hurried over to say, “Good morning—I want to ask you something.” She smiled, and nodded her head for me to go ahead. I reminded her of her anger and how I couldn’t figure out what had upset her. She frowned. Then I launched into what I was discovering as I walked around on crutches. I told her how I figured out how to do things—how to open doors, how to get what I wanted from the kitchen—and I also told her how people were rushing ahead to anticipate what I was going to do and doing it for me. I said, “It frustrates me because these are things I can do for myself—and if I can, then I want to do them.”

Before I could get to my question, her smile had started. I asked the question anyway as I said, “Is that what you were upset about—that we were doing something that you can still do for yourself???” Her smile broadened, her head nodded in the affirmative, and with her good hand she took hold of my hand and shook it as she beamed!

Silently she was saying, “What I can do, I want to do myself.”

131. Get Rid of Excuses

I was re-reading a sermon I preached some years ago about the feeding of the five thousand. The scripture for that particular sermon was Matthew 14:13-21. And the verse that struck me then—and now—was where Jesus says that the crowd doesn’t have to go away. And he says “You give them something to eat.” And the disciples say, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And He says, “Bring them here to me.”

What strikes me is that so often I say “Well, I just have this…” or “You know I just have this bit of time here…” or “I can just do this one thing…” And I imagine Jesus continuing to say, “Bring it here to me.”

All these excuses—all the self-putting down—all the evasions. I’m not being asked to be a rocket scientist. I’m being asked to bring what I have — to do the one thing — to give the amount of time I can give. Just that. And I don’t need to knock it—just offer it.

130. Building the Bridge

A number of years ago I went to Mariondale Center to assist their resident storyteller in leading the St. Francis of Assisi celebration day. I took three sets of Tinkertoys and we divided them into four sets—not necessarily equally because everyone has different resources. We divided the 50 or 60 people into four groups and each group had two tables, separated by two to three feet.

They were instructed that they needed to build a bridge with their set of Tinkertoys from one table to the other. It had to have a little bit of lift to it. It couldn’t be just Tinkertoys stuck together and laid across the chasm. They were to put their Tinkertoys in the middle of one table and look at them (not touching them) and plan as a group for ten minutes how they would build their bridge. Then they were given ten minutes to actually build the bridge, but during that ten minutes they could not speak to each other. And it happened. The four groups created four distinctive wonderful bridges. It was not competitive—they were just each told to create a beautiful, imaginative bridge. And they did it.

In the time afterwards as we all talked about the process they shared that they had made some amazing discoveries: it paid to listen to each other; good ideas came from different people; each of them got nervous at different places in the process; they could work together; they didn’t need language; they didn’t have time to argue and disagree.

WOW.

129. My Vision Song

Sometimes I lose track of what spurred me to write a song and that’s true of this song. It can be sung to the tune of “Be Thou My Vision.” It has within it so many things that are important to me—the value of time and the ways I spend it; my search for balance; how the truth lies in between the day I was born and the day I die—the truth about how I respond to God in my efforts to make peace. The song also includes that Jewish concept of the need to repair the world—how do I do that? And the last verse is my prayer. As I read it, I remember that I wrote this song after being at a peace workshop led by Wayne Lavender. And people were talking about being overwhelmed and their constant need to start again. And so the song was written to encourage us all.

—–

Prayer for Living My Days

—–

Time marches forward from day unto day,

I spend my moments in so many ways,

Help me to balance the hours that I live,

Guide me in reaching out to love and to give.

—–

One day I was born and then one day I’ll die,

Years pass between and the truth there does lie,

How I respond to God calling me to make peace,

How I repair the world in my days and my weeks.

—–

When doubt overwhelms me, give strength to my heart,

Help me be faithful and make a new start,

God give me wisdom to transform the strife,

God give me courage to live all of my life.

—–

© Copyright 2011 by Ann Freeman Price

Tune: Be Thou My Vision

128. Each Day Begins

For a long time on Sunday morning as I drove the thirty minutes to the church, in order to warm my voice up for the choir, I would sing the round “When Jesus Wept.” It was also an excellent way to extend my breathing ability for I would sing each two lines and breathe and then try to sing each four lines on one breath.

One day I got discouraged about the words and decided to write new words to this very old round. Now I sing it more in the car than just on Sunday because it also reminds me to “live the love.”

Each day begins

And then each day ends.

And so our lives

Have endings too.

Look closely now

At time you have,

And use your moments

To live the love.

—–

© Copyright 2012 by Ann Freeman Price

(Can be sung to the tune: “When Jesus Wept”)

127. Changing the Rules

When I worked at Ramapo Manor Nursing Center in Rockland County, NY, we arranged for a nursery group of three and four-year-olds to come for an hour to the nursing home once a month. Sometimes they sang, sometimes they had story time with us. Sometimes they just came and had snacks and the children played around the eighty and ninety year olds. But one time I remember we had the idea of asking the little ones to bring a game of theirs to teach the older folks. And they came on that visit with their various games.

Now remember, they were three and four years old, so the games were fairly simple ones and most of the games were new to the nursing home residents. We set them up at tables and I ended up standing near a table where a four-year-old little girl and an 86-year-old woman sat at a table together. The four-year-old explained her game. She told the older woman all the rules and they started to play. The game went along and pretty soon it was obvious that the older woman was winning. The four year old paused and then said brightly, “I forgot to tell you a rule,” and she proceeded to institute a new rule which would swing the game her way. The 86-year-old woman smiled and listened. They started to play again and sure enough the little girl began to win. That quickly the rule changed.

Another example: In our house in an effort to encourage four children to try new foods we instituted a rule of “three bites with a smile.” I don’t know why we put in the part about the smile. But that rule went along for years until one day when Nelson had cooked and had fixed asparagus. As the bowl of asparagus was passed around the table, it finally came to me, and since I did not especially like asparagus, I quietly passed it on to the child sitting on my right. He took it and then looked at me and handed the bowl back, saying, “Three bites with a smile, Mom.” I grimaced, took a small portion and dutifully ate it. Shortly thereafter the rule was dropped. And that quickly the rule changed.

What I’ve learned from this is that sometimes you can smile and let the rules change. Sometimes you can protest when the rules change. And sometimes you can be the changer.

126. How’s That Working for You?

I’m going to disguise this story. It was told to me probably a year ago and I have thought of it often. The grown son who lived on his own went to lunch with his mother and as they ate he told her that there was something that she was doing in her life that was really upsetting him. She listened carefully and let him talk. When he came to a stop and seemed to have vented, she said, “You know, I hear that you’re upset but I’m a grown person and this is a decision I’ve made after thought and I’m not changing my mind.” He went directly back into his tirade and said, “It makes me angry—it makes me really mad that you’re doing this—I’m not letting go of it because I’m so upset—so enraged!”

She sat quietly and then said, “And how’s that working for you?”

125. We Share Spaces

In 1981 I wrote a piece that was published by the Ecumenical Women’s Center in Chicago. It was titled “We Share Spaces.” The concept is that it’s important to be very aware of the space I am in, because it is possible that as I abhor where another person or group is, in my struggle to oppose that position, I myself move over there and adopt the same hateful tactics, and in that moment I share that space.

One of the examples I often give is: 1) I disapprove mightily of the Ku Klux Klan; 2) I struggle against them; 3) if I’m not careful about the ways in which I oppose them, I may find that I adopt some of their tactics, and 4) I become the Klan.

Another example I have sometimes talked about is that in the 60’s when I lived in Nashville, a friend of mine was going to march at Selma. He asked me if I wanted to go and I said I didn’t. I gave excuses of I had small children, I needed to stay at home, but the truth was that I was scared and at that time in my life could not do it. That was the space I was in. Later in 1968 after the death of both Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy, I did go to the March on Washington. I was still fearful but I went because I chose to go with my fear rather than make the decision again to not go. I had moved to a different space.

AND in years since then, it has helped me recognize that I can’t demand that everyone be in the same space where I stand. We all have times of moving and change and my friend who asked me to go to Selma, didn’t land all over me for not going. Likewise I need to not insist that everyone be where I am I can stand where I need to stand. I can invite others to join me. Period.

124. Elton Trueblood

Some years ago I read a story about the Quaker theologian Elton Trueblood. I believe at the time he was president of Earlham College. There was a young man who was considering attending Earlham and he was being interviewed by Trueblood. The young man was nervous and hoping that the interview was going well.

Then rather suddenly, Trueblood said, “Excuse me,” and he pulled a pad of paper over and started to write. He wrote for a few minutes, and the young man wasn’t sure what was happening. He didn’t know if Trueblood was writing something down about him or if he should be concerned.

And then Elton Trueblood put down his pen and looked at the young man and said, “Sorry—but a thought went through my head and I needed to capture it. I’ve found that if I stop whatever I’m doing and write it down, then I can come back and be wholeheartedly with you. Otherwise, while I’m talking to you, there’s a part of my brain that is trying to remember that thought, and I can’t focus on hearing you.”

I’ve always remembered that and actually put it into practice. Better to say “Excuse me,” and write the thought down, than to not be able to concentrate on the task at hand, plus the very real possibility that I lose the thought anyway.

I carry a notebook with me—small if need be—but something with which to capture the tumbling thoughts.