You know I gave up mini epiphanies, right? Yeah… somehow, I can’t quite quit ‘em. The other day, however, was a profound one. I’m still not sure what it’s lasting impact will be but somehow this one feels life altering.
First, it starts with being thankful. We finished my husband’s ceiling repair last Sunday and put his office back together for hopefully the last time. That sole act ushered in our two-year sabbatical from renovations. For an extended period of time, we are recovering financially and emotionally from the toll of constantly renovating. Instead, we now have the luxury of a little bit of time. Weekends are not slated for project work and evenings are not penciled in for Home Depot runs. Learning to be human again will take some time, but we are up for it.
And then…?
Well, that’s where the mini epiphany comes in. It starts with a Thanksgiving dinner, but not the one that happens tomorrow. Instead, I remembered one from about 40-50 years ago. At the time, we had elderly neighbors – a brother and sister – who lived kitty-corner to us along shared backyards. Back then there was a small drainage ditch that split our yards, causing the brother – who went to Mass every single day – to have to walk around the block to go to church, which was on our street. My dad built a small bridge over the drainage ditch to allow him to cut through the back yards and shorten his walk. My dad would also go out and shovel his path when the snow got deep. And then there was my mom. Every year as she made Thanksgiving Dinner, she would pause before we sat down and package up a full thanksgiving meal for “Bess and Leanord” – the elderly siblings. Then, she would send us over to deliver the meal. We’d knock on the back door and one of them would open the door. We could see inside enough to see that the kitchen table was set for dinner. One of them would hand us a small tin full of homemade candy. Eventually, the tin would get returned and the ritual would continue year after year.
Those acts of giving by my parents had multi-fold impacts. First, it helped out an elderly pair who were able to live independently because of the community they resided in. It wasn’t just my parents helping out. Others did, too. That’s what we did. We may not have had a ton growing up in that small town, but people gave freely of their time, talent and treasure. Additionally, though, my parents were also being deliberate here: they wanted to teach their children the joy of giving.
This year, through a series of events, I got the opportunity to give twice. First to two abandoned kittens who were malnourished, dehydrated and incredibly sick with both a viral and bacterial infection. It’s not an exaggeration to say they were days – if not mere hours – away from death. It wasn’t an easy capture, but I managed to get both kittens and through a couple of intense weeks, two vet trips and a ton of anti-parasite, anti-viral, and antibiotics, we stabilized them. Love and yummy food, warm beds and a safe environment got them healthy. But the biggest (and saddest) joy was when they got adopted into a loving home and got to go together. We’ve seen videos and pictures from their new life and it is nothing short of amazing.
The second opportunity came with a family we know is struggling. Last year, they didn’t have a functioning oven, though the stovetop worked. Their Thanksgiving dinner was supplied by a local restaurant, which gave away free meals. This year, with a new oven installed last Christmas, it was an opportunity to give them back their own Thanksgiving traditions. My husband and I decided to provide all of the fixings for the meal – from turkey to mashed potatoes to cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. Most were cook and serve items to make it easier for a busy household but it allows their grandmother to serve dinner from her own kitchen. Honestly? I don’t tell this story for praise. I tell this story as both a way to honor my parents and their lessons as well to describe the epiphany that it generated.
And here it is: I’ve been searching for simple peace for eight plus years. At first, it was one overly busy job followed by another followed by renovations. It always seemed like there was an obstacle in my way to finding simple peace. “If I could just get clear of the hurdles, I could finally relax,” I would tell myself.
But maybe that wasn’t it at all? Maybe, I needed to recapture a little of what my parents knew: be a part of a community. Give, without expecting anything in return. Make connections on a human level. Get rid of the spreadsheets, the “to-do” lists, the constant vigilance about retirement savings and the series of rote commitments that don’t bring joy and find the smallest voice inside you that still belongs to someplace, somewhere and someone.
Walking that Thanksgiving dinner across the backyards felt like a chore sometimes to little kids who were excited for their own Thanksgiving. The tin of hard candy wasn’t as good as a chocolate bar back then, but what I wouldn’t give for a piece of that candy now. And the idea of service and doing good for others was barely sinking in. I wonder if my parents ever despaired that I just wouldn’t ever “get it.” I’m sure it caused them a little worry, honestly.
Okay, mom and dad, I get it now. Giving of myself isn’t adding new burdens to an already overburdened schedule. Life isn’t about clearing the decks so that my busy mind can rest, although that is still important as well. Instead, giving becomes part of a life that gets messy and calm and brings joys and pain. Giving is a key element to a life well lived. I understand that now. It also feels like as a society, we have lost our compassion and our sense of community. In our busy lives of double incomes, huge mortgages, unrealistic lifestyle expectations set by social media influences and the ever-present fear of falling behind, we forgot that none of that matters. The size of your house, the custom-milled hardwood floors, the vacation abroad… those are rare luxuries our parents truly never pursued. But what they had? Those deeply soul-satisfying moments of making someone’s day by giving so little of yourself. They tried to show us how important that was but as many things go, we can only learn it on our own.
My mom loved the song, “Angels among us.” She would often tell me that it was each person’s job to be the angel among us for someone else when we could. My dad would talk about service as a person’s responsibility for being accepted into a community. I watched as my parents and the parents of my friends built outdoor firepits at each other’s homes, as neighbors pitched in with a home improvement project as we pitched in with theirs. Our next-door neighbor used to take all of the neighborhood kids sledding at the state park so our mothers could wrap Christmas gifts in peace. My parents volunteered countless hours for Uncle Sam’s Kids, our little school marching band, and my mom and the other moms sewed all of our uniforms.
In my pursuit of simple peace, I pursued only time that was unfettered, unobligated and undisturbed. Yes, that is peaceful. But in taking the opportunity to give recently, I found a peace that I never realized was missing. I AM part of this community and I AM responsible for being an angel among us when I can, knowing full well I may never need someone to be an angel for me but also recognizing that the kittens’ adoptive parents became just that when I recognized we really couldn’t be their forever home.
It is truly going to take some time for me to rebuild the community that I once had and to give up that idea of undisturbed free time in exchange for giving a little of myself. But I saw the light. And for that reason alone, I am forever thankful this Thanksgiving.
On an extremely personal note, I also feel more connected to my parents and their legacy than I have in a very long time. How incredible is that?
The Yuppie Homesteader 