Two of their adult children and a daughter-in-law were there; one of their sons was a year or two behind my son at a Catholic high school where they played football together. There were also three large dogs present, including Charlie, which made for an exciting evening at times. Fortunately their cat was safely hidden away. (The last time we visited, Charlie was intent on finding her and ridding the house of an evil feline intruder. Unable to do that, he did the next best thing and raided her litter box. Yuck!)
It was, to use a very tired phrase, a dark and stormy night. The drive across town through rain was challenging and the drive home on the freeway no less so. But the warm friendship and stimulating conversation was so gratifying and well worth any nervous or confusing moments on the road. (“Where IS that road I need to turn on? Is this the right way? Why won’t that guy behind me back off? I can’t see a thing through this mist and rain!” and other whiny exclamations better left unshared here.)
As Janet prepared salad and ravioli, we all stood around their kitchen island (I admit to a bad case of kitchen envy!), sipping wine and munching on some appetizers I brought. Mike and Janet own a restaurant and are both excellent cooks so it is always a little intimidating to cook for them.
After dinner the younger adults left and Mike, Janet and I sat and talked while Charlie made the rounds getting pets and love. Janet remarked how impressed she was with my journey, but especially my selling or giving away nearly everything before the journey began. She said I was her hero, which of course embarrassed me tremendously, and I had to make a smart-ass response that was self-denigrating. I would have been better served and kinder to just thank her, instead of questioning her judgment in her choice of heroes. But I added that it was extremely freeing to be rid of all that “stuff,” though there were things I have come to regret parting with and sometimes go in search of, only to realize I no longer have them. Still, I have managed to get along well without most of it, though I have replaced a few things now that I have a house and room for things. I admitted that while I always wished I had a nice set of china, of crystal and other nice things, that will undoubtedly never happen. And dang, I’ll have a full and happy life anyway!
Later in the course of our conversation Mike mentioned the need for detachment. This morning, in ruminating over our conversation I realize getting rid of stuff is one small step towards detachment. Though difficult, it is much easier than giving up expectations, than holding on to desired outcomes, our need to be right, our need to feel important and valued. Often these define us more than our things, more than where we live, or what we drive, which I think are just a symptom of deeper desires to feel that we matter, that we are of consequence.
This fall I have struggled with the feelings of being rejected by people who matter to me, of being not chosen after offering myself for service. I beat myself up for having nothing of value, at least in their eyes, and it’s a dark and dismal place to go – even worse than that dark and stormy drive last night.
As I was walking Charlie the other day it occurred to me that perhaps this is because I have other work to do. Maybe God is telling me: Missy, there’s something else I want you to do and this committee you wanted to be on, this relationship you wanted, this job you were thinking of, they would be impediments to doing our work. They might make you feel useful and wanted and loved, but you don’t need others to make you feel that way. You ARE wanted and needed and loved, and incredibly useful just being you.
So that’s where the detachment gets tricky. Letting go of my desired outcomes, my needs for emotional fulfillment, my needs to feel important and valued. Basically, it’s letting go of what my ego tells me is necessary to be happy. I need to continue to pray that beautiful prayer of St. Ignatius: “Give me only Your love and Your grace; that is enough for me.”
Only God knows what lies in my future, but whatever it is I need to be open to it, ready to love it and be there, fully present to my own life. I just hope whatever is out there includes my many good and wise friends.
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