Two weird things happened to me yesterday.
1. Monday morning...still in bed. Dreaming. Have this very intensely real dream about having a several-hour conference with the person at work who makes me miserable. In the dream, we worked through all our issues, came to a place of reconciliation, and became friends (well, ok, collegial colleagues). The point is, at the end of the dream, I didn't hate him. Not that I'm sure "hate" is the word I'd use now, but...anyway.
So I get to work. I see said individual in the hallway. We exchange polite (fake) greetings. I notice that he's wearing the same shirt he was wearing in my dream. And chills run down my spine.
The thing is, I rarely dream, but when I do, they're always vivid and they often...well, they sometimes come true. Not that my kindergarten teacher has ever rescued me from the tree that fell on top of me when the tornado passed through my backyard, and not that my dad actually shot the beautiful black horse of mine that ran away because it wanted to be free. But sometimes I see things in my dreams that I see later. It's unnerving. So I've learned to pay attention to my dreams, even when they seem stupid.
2. Monday morning...same morning. I pull out of the driveway and my next-door neighbor who just lost his wife a few months ago steps out into the street and flags me down. (We're not close, but I think he's lonely.) He starts telling me about his trip to visit his brother out of state, and how they're the only ones left in the family who are still alive, and how he was sitting in his chair the other day really missing his wife and his little dog (the one I hate) jumped up in his lap and licked his face to comfort him. And I'm sitting in my car, window rolled down, in the middle of the street, with a man standing there weeping, and all I can think was How can I comfort him and still make it to work on time?--which, I didn't, and I'm glad I gave him those few minutes of my time because he needed them more than anyone at work did.
The theme of both moments? Reconciliation of hatred with acceptance. In Case 1, the person who at times makes my professional life hell becomes a friend. Apologizes for the unspeakable things he did. We accept each other as intelligent individuals and as colleagues. In Case 2, the dog I hate is the instrument of comfort that helps my neighbor more than anyone else. I can no longer hate the dog; the dog is now a friend (though still, admittedly, annoyingly yappy).
And then I wonder.... Do I want this reconciliation, or do I really just want to remain detached, upset? The dog is easy. The other.... Difficult. Very difficult. And I don't want to let go of it. I don't want to forgive. I say I want to go on, but really, I don't. I want to stay upset. I want to keep a wall between us so I can point to it and say, "Look, here is a monument to the person who has done wrong to me. Let us look upon him with scorn and anger."
When instead, I should be saying, "Look, here is a monument to how far God has brought me. Let us be reminded that He has walked through the fires with me and will never leave me, nor forsake me." That is the monument I need to be building, not the other. But it's a slow process. Right now I'm just gathering rocks and mortar, hoping that a contractor will make a reasonable bid for the job.
2 comments:
I'm a little late catching up with my reading here, but I'll comment anyway...
I always enjoy your writing, usually to the point that I can't think of anything to add worthy of attachment to your post. But I'm particularly struck by your last paragraph. I'm reminded of the verse of the hymn, that starts "Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by Thy help I've come." (I Samuel 7:12: "Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, 'Thus far has the LORD helped us.'") I think the use of "thus far" is interesting: the Ebenezer stone isn't a point of arrival, it's a point on the way. We expect to go farther, beyond this monument, but we will remember the place where we took time to reflect on how far the Lord has helped us. The idea of a final, 'I have arrrived' monument makes me think of a headstone, which is something entirely different.
Another interesting (to me) aspect: the monument was a single stone. (Well, how big was it? What kind was it? Where did he find it? How did he raise it? Did he have help? Did he have a block and tackle (and yes, those had been invented)? And who was his contractor? Inquiring minds want to know...) At any rate, it doesn't seem to have been a massive production, which says to me, "Stop, mark the place so you'll remember it, notice how far His Grace has brought you; then move on." A bit of a stretch, perhaps, but I think not unreasonable.
Thanks for writing!
Such good questions you ask! If only I weren't writing a paper.... I did a tiny bit of research, though. The Hebrew for Ebenezer is two words: eh'ven ha'azer. They mean "stone of help" or (and I need to look this up in the parsing guide to be sure) "stone of one who helps."
I remember back to when God told Moses to build Him an altar of earth or of uncut stones because an altar of hewn stone would be profaned by their swords. It makes me think that Samuel, having been raised by a priest, would have recalled this and used a stone that was, at the very least, unhewn. Of course, I suppose it's possible that monuments weren't treated the same as altars.
As for the rest, your guess is as good as mine.
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