Dinner, Dreams, Ice-Cream, and Group Hugs
Sometimes my shoulders hurt. When I woke up this morning, my left shoulder was hurting. I’m pretty sure that I have an auto-immune disease — rheumatoid arthritis. I say “pretty sure” because I don’t have an official diagnosis yet. My numbers are borderline. I need to see the rheumatologist again. I’ve been putting it off. Today my shoulders were hurting. It isn’t so bad that it keeps me from doing what I need to do. It is just bothersome.
I’m bringing this up because today I realized that when my shoulders hurt, I think of Ms. Gene. Ms. Gene was the matriarch of the tiny church I pastor. She died at the age of 92 this year. When I first went to the rheumatologist, I told her before I was going. She had rheumatoid arthritis. And, while I would have assumed that her hands were what hurt the most, she told me that day that it was her shoulders that caused her the most trouble. Now when my shoulders hurt a bit, I think about her. I’ve really missed her today.
I’m a philosophizer. That means I chase thoughts down rabbit holes. Dictionary.com defines philosophize as
“to speculate or theorize, usually in a superficial or imprecise manner.”
Missing Ms. Gene today, remembering her painful shoulders while noticing my bothersome one led me to philosophize about the ways in which our pain connects us with each other. I don’t know if this is a unique thing. I somehow doubt it. But, knowing that Ms. Gene knew what a bothersome shoulder was like connects me in some way to her. She is greatly missed, but somehow I feel her with me. Somehow, it is within the pain that I do.
Nothing Sacred was an ABC Network television show in the nineties. It was about a young priest in an old parish. I was in seminary at the time and gritty portrayals of real human clergy were few and far between. My friends and I got together every week to watch it. It was “appointment TV” for us. (The young priest, Father Ray, was played by Kevin Anderson. Sister Mo was played by the amazing Ann Dowd who is Aunt Lydia on The Handmaid’s Tale. Everyone thinks she came out of nowhere. She has been working it a long time!)
One of my favorite episodes was one in which Ray is doubting his faith. He has practically lost it entirely. It happens to be Easter. So, when he doesn’t show up to preach the Easter sermon, the older priest, Father Leo played by Brad Sullivan, decides to step in. What you need to know about Father Leo is that he lost his faith a long time ago. He still served the community, but it had been years since he preached because he couldn’t stand up and say that he believed what he was preaching. Everyone gets real nervous when Leo says that he will lead Easter Mass.
As he takes the pulpit, he points to the stained glass portrayal of Thomas and the Resurrected Jesus. Thomas is touching the wounds. Father Leo says that it was those wounds that made him doubt God. How could a loving parent bring back a child from the dead but leave five gaping wounds in him? The elder priest goes on to say that it is also those very wounds that have proven to him that God exists because like Thomas, we are invited to enter God through the wounds of Christ. Leo expands it to say that we are invited into one another’s life through our own wounds and the wounds of others. Our pain connects us.
It is kind of like the ancient Japanese art, Kintsugi. Gold is used to repair cracks formed in pottery so that the cracks are not only still visible, but now take on additional value and prominence. The cracks are what make a piece so beautiful.
I miss Ms. Gene today. And, mysteriously I am connected to her through my painful shoulder. We shared that pain, though hers was much more painful, and she was willing to let me into her life by sharing that pain. Pain isn’t the only thing that connects us, though.
I will have the opportunity to celebrate a friend’s birthday this weekend. When I think about the joy we have shared, it makes me laugh out loud. I have pictures of us laughing that, I swear, you can hear the laughing if you concentrate. The photographs captured moments of pure joy. Our joy connects us.
Tonight I stood in my kitchen in a group hug with hubby and the two kids. The kid I’ve been so angry with left the building for the day and MY CHILD returned. We all had dinner together and laughed and told stupid stories — including my sharing a dream I had about catching a shark while fishing. I often share my dreams. I have some very vivid ones. They often roll their eyes whenever I do. They rolled their eyes tonight, but then each one of them shared a recent dream they had had too. Then, we cleaned up from dinner and went for ice cream!
The oldest suggested that the youngest drive us to Baskin-Robbins. The youngest has a learner’s permit and has only driven once with all four of us in the car. Last time it happened, the oldest complained the whole time. Tonight, he not only suggested it, but complimented the driving. When we got home and before everyone went their separate ways to their separate spaces in the house, we stood in the kitchen and hugged. They did it for me. When they were younger, we had group hugs a lot. It doesn’t happen much anymore. The oldest was tired and wanted to go to his room, but didn’t want to hurt my feelings (see? Today is a good day!) so he asked, “Are we finished for the night or . . .?” I said, “Well, let’s all hug before we end our time together.” I didn’t think they would do it. They did.
Not only did the four of us have a group hug, but it lasted longer than I would have thought it would. It wasn’t long by any stretch of the imagination, but it was long enough for hubby and I to take a couple of deep breaths and really take in the moment before youngest said, “Okay, that’s enough.” Our joy connects us. He was right. It was enough.
Pain and joy work through us like connective tissue holding us together. My kids and hubby wrapped their arms around my bothersome shoulders tonight. It was joyous. I still miss Ms. Gene. And, what tomorrow will be like is anybody’s guess. It is enough.
