2018 Gratitude

The year 2018 has been a curious, if informative, year in many ways. It has been a year of change and a year of gradual transition. It has been a year of loss and gaining understanding and insight. For the last several years, I, like many others on social media, have posted some form of “30 days of thankfulness” during November. It has always been a cathartic look at the month and year. Also, it helps reinforce something I learned from two years of therapy: coming from a place of gratitude makes it physically impossible to be anxious. That’s really a thing. And if a person truly practices gratitude, the rest somehow sorts itself out. I’ve seen it in myself, and I’ve seen it in others.

This year, though, I wasn’t feeling it. My mother’s death in October colored how I entered the Thanksgiving season. But I also know the turmoil I feel in our country and world skews my perspective. Questions about how I practice my faith and worship are in there. Unnecessary skirmishes on social media bring fundamental differences of opinion and belief into the light. I’m not talking about the “they wouldn’t say that to my face” issue that is so prevalent these days, but rather a basic understanding (or revelation in many cases) I have discovered in friends and family. This note is not a political post, but President Trump’s election has heightened those issues. This year, I have won the opportunity to play some wonderful characters on stage. I passed over for other characters I wanted to play. I can take a break and develop opportunities to sing with my friend, Vicky, and recently, by myself in Irmo. I have seen the end of a semi-regular gig come to fruition with a thankful but bittersweet conclusion.

Stumped

As I started in November, I began to write my “Day 1 of Thankfulness” post. I sat at my computer, staring at the screen, trying to think of something I was grateful for but had not previously expressed. After 30 minutes, I backspaced until that text was gone and clicked away to some other internet rabbit hole. It’s not that I don’t appreciate all the beautiful things I have in my life, so much as I didn’t care about sharing them with the world. The empath part of me was just over it. Then, I read my husband Jeffery’s excellent daily posts about gratitude. It reminded me why I am so thankful for him in my life. No one can make me as happy as he can. No one can make me as proud. No one can hurt me or piss me off as thoroughly as he can. It’s the nature of loving and being in love. And, if you’ve read the playbill for my concert, you’ll note the last sentence is always, “Mutual love and support have seen the two of us through 35 years of life together, and yet every single day, I am amazed at something he says or does.” This continues to be the case. And while we have had our struggles, financial and otherwise, our karmic existence is something for which I remain thankful. These poor words can’t begin to show justice to the depth of my feelings.

The Boys

Our pups, Gilbert and Sullivan, are considered “older” dogs at ten. Gilbert’s health was in serious jeopardy a couple of years ago as a result of a condition known as IAHA. He went through a complicated, almost-year-long treatment of steroids – enough that would make a human cringe, let alone a 14-pound dog. Today, his hearing and eyesight are declining; he slows down in the extreme summer and coldest winter. And yet he is still my snuggle buddy on the couch, often taking it upon himself to jump on the couch, then on me, going to sleep on my chest while I’m watching television. His brother, Sullivan, the runt of the litter, continues to scamper around and greet me at our back gate almost every day. He literally sits at the gait and waits to hear my truck pull into the driveway. Every day, I stop, put whatever I’m carrying on the garden wall, and visit with him (and Gilbert if he’s waiting there). I hear about their day, pick them up, and tell them about my day. It’s our thing. These little guys are so much a piece of my heart, and it’s tough to think about when they cross the rainbow bridge. Yet my gratitude for their presence in my life is something I live and breathe every single day.

Mom

My mother, like most mothers, was absurdly proud of me. She was able to attend the concert I did in Galveston this summer. She didn’t care if I lost a lyric phrase among the 25 songs I sang. She didn’t care if that scooped note didn’t quite reach its intended height or if her middle-aged son told stories of his life for all to hear. She beamed up at me from her wheelchair in the audience. The struggle for her to make the 15-mile trip from the mainland to Galveston Island was difficult. By this time, she was almost entirely bedridden. I genuinely believe that Vicky and I going to the nursing home and singing one of the songs from the concert is what enticed (challenged?) her to make it. Regardless of the motivation, I know, without a doubt, God made it possible for her to attend. She gathered enough strength to make it to the theatre and powered through the show and the aftermath. Afterward, I wheeled her out to the car, lifted her into the seat with much flopping around, and got her situated. My heart was full, and yet my heart was broken. But it’s true that no matter how good (or bad) a kid does in performance, moms always see a rock star. And gratitude for her presence there and my phone conversations with her later, before her death, is boundless.

Home and Hearth

I don’t take it lightly that I have a roof over my head, albeit on a house with very few truly level floors. But she’s a grand old dame; we are fortunate to be her custodians. I am grateful that even when we’ve had lean times, we’ve had food to eat and to share. The last year or so has also been a lesson in receiving. We have always been very good at giving. It is a source of joy to share. This is not a statement about how benevolent Jeffery or I are but about how bad we are at accepting help. We tend not to ask for it. We tend to feel awkward in accepting it. It may be pride, or it may be embarrassment. Or something in between. Regardless, it’s something we needed. It’s a life lesson everyone I know should experience and something I am grateful for. After a rather odd job situation that ended this spring, I found my current position at St. Martin’s through a friend, for which I am incredibly grateful. I work with one of the most motivated, benevolent groups of people who take God’s work seriously, who enjoy life, who are not condescending, and who don’t have sticks up their collective butts. I have a job that is 1 part social and 1 part administrative, with a sprinkling of rebellion and a dash of compassion. I am blessed to be part of this staff, and my boss is one freaking cool dude, albeit one who wears a collar a few times a week. The fact that his truck is generally more unkempt than mine gives me hope!

Family

My family and I have a sort of indelible bond. No matter what, we end up coming together. It’s ultimately always family first, bullshit second. And there’s been a whole lot of bullshit in the last several months, nay couple of years (yes, that was political). But ultimately, love wins. We don’t always agree; we won’t always agree. But we love each other. Everyone keeps that and posting memes about it, but I’ve lived it and seen it firsthand. My being 1700 miles away from the rest of my family has given me a curious view of things; being away from Texas (which is a state of mind that I carry with me always!) and living in The South (the hole of the buckle of the Bible belt of The South), in a quasi-urban setting causes me to question several social issues which get discussed regularly throughout the interwebs and news. When you live downtown, you see things differently than those who live in small country towns or master-planned suburbs. You just do. So when a social media uproar (my post, my wall, with friends’ ugly cross-comments) caused family members to unfriend me, my world stopped, and the lion came out.

Cooler Heads Prevail

I’m told I’m diplomatic. I’m a peacekeeper. Blah, blah, blah. There I was in the middle, trying to make everyone see reason, defending opinions and people when I thought it necessary, staying silent when I had nothing to contribute, and frankly agreeing with no one. And I got unfriended. As you know, in social media, that means “you don’t exist.” So there were hurt feelings everywhere – mine and those of people I love. It’s done, and we’ve sorted through it, but that’s the bullshit of which I speak. Much energy and emotion gets spent in unhealthy ways that could be spent so much more productively. I see it every single day. People have this insatiable need to be correct. I think “right” is relative to one’s perspective. Regardless, it’s a highly cautionary tale of how social media should not be used. Share pictures of my nieces and nephews and your kids’ 4th grade pageant. Share whatever makes you happy. But if you get off on dissension, please do me a favor and stay off my wall.

My Husband

As I type this, I realize today is Jeffery’s birthday. Undoubtedly, when I post this note, his wall will be filling up with well wishes… If you’re not friends on Facebook with him, you should be. He can get up in arms about things, but I’ve learned during the last 3-1/2 decades that he generally thinks things through before he speaks. This has caught me off guard many times and has lost me a fair share of arguments. Last month, he expressed 30 times so beautifully what I couldn’t. Troll his wall; it’s worth the effort and the read. I have also to acknowledge that I am at an age where people of my generation are dying. Because I don’t generally think about being 55 (I act more like I’m 25 until my body shows me differently), I’m often caught off guard when I learn of a friend’s passing. Then reality sets in; I stop; I acknowledge. During the mid-to-late-80s, I suffered the death of friends because of AIDS. Now, it’s just the circle of life turning. While not entirely unexpected, losing my mom has left a hole in my heart. I’m having problems patching. She was the last of her siblings alive, and all three of that generation were lost in the space of several months. So, one has to take stock, stop, acknowledge. Life is moving forward, and part of life is death. The other part of life and death is birth.

New Additions

I’m going to be a great uncle again. My nephew, Ryan, for whom my love is immense, and his wife, Brooke, are soon moving to Augusta, GA. They are expecting a baby, so the bonus is two-fold: they’ll be within easy driving distance and adding number 19 to the greats. Mom and Daddy created a tribe! So, I’m entering December and Advent with hope. I’m working on a holiday musical revue with friends at Town Theatre. I will continue to try to book singing gigs this winter and early spring. I will enjoy watching Jeffery reenter the world of live theatre and use his skill and talent that, frankly, humble me and mine. I will contemplate more and argue less (except for with Jeffery). I will remember the impromptu words of my sister, Cathy: “When in doubt, love.”

Peace to you and yours. Clayton