gratitude

sometimes i get into these funny places where i feel like there are really important things to say - i am drawn back to my blog - but i'm not quite sure what that/those thing(s) is/are. other times, there are things that have just been said so many times that it feels somewhat inane to reiterate them. i'm drifting toward the latter as i realize how often in the last two days i have communicated the same basic message: my job is challenging. there are things i really don't like. there are things that i do like. in the end i'm thankful for the lessons i'm learning.

the funny thing is, no matter how many times i've said it, i don't really feel that thankful. when i woke up at six this morning and had to drive into tyler to pick up supplies for the week, drag a huge cart overloaded with things like bagels and toilet paper up the hill in the sam's parking lot, and when i came back, hot and sweaty, only to encounter the monday/first of the month administrative work piling up on my desk - i wasn't feeling that inner hum of harmony and peace that wells up from a deep place of gratitude. i was hungry, hot, frustrated, and flusterpated (which is kind of like flustered + frustrated + exasperated - imagine a hen that has just moments before been booted across chicken yard). very far from grateful.

as much as i idealize a life of contentment and wish it upon myself, i wonder if that's really in my cards, or - an even bigger question - if it really should be.

my flusterpatedness (now we're really stretching the word) is somehow good and right when raised by stories and newsitems on the violation of women's right in the war zones of the eastern congo, or palestinian children being kicked out of their homes in jerusalem, or the older woman in our church in assisted living with few to no visitors. there are many un-right things in this world crying out to be righted. the blazing temperatures in the pacific northwest are the silent screams of a planet stretched beyond its resources. the border tensions and huge volume of illegal immigration speak to a shattered economy, the fallout of poor trade policies advantaging large corporations at the cost of human decency.

st. ignatius of loyola teaches, in his spiritual exercises, that the sin of the world is all connected - and kind of original butterfly effect. we, as humans, are all tied together, even through our failings. my selfishness and pride contribute to the greater sin of the world by acting as stumbling blocks for those around me. when i exhibit prejudice and biases i contribute to those larger prejudices that lead to situations of gender disempowerment or ethnic disenfranchisement. when all i can see is my own needs and desires, i take part in the greater self-centeredness that forgets the elderly, poor, and marginalized.

contentment is a valid goal, but only if it leads me into a deeper awareness of the others around me. too often contentment can fall into complacency. i don't think god calls us to live apathetically - jesus' example points to something quite different. still, as i journey through indignation and righteous anger at the ills of the world, i must continue to battle against the impatience, lack of faith, pride, and selfishness that warp my ability to see others around me and to order myself rightly among them.

because, ultimately, when i put it all into perspective, gratitude comes.