The Gifts of the Magi

RantWoman is embarrassed to realize she still has some holiday email she has not interacted with, let alone interacted appropriately with. RantWoman realizes a small number of recipients will not fully have reason to be miffed until tomorrow, which is Orthodox Christmas. That is not an excuse, but for the moment RantWoman is going to focus on Gifts of the Magi in her Compost thread.


RantWoman sent Dear Friend a really, really good temper tantrum by email a couple days ago in response to his Reindeer droppings missive. RantWoman thinks she REALLY needs to call Dear Friend about some of the contents. RantWoman also has many other things in queue and is a little afraid of conversations with Dear Friend making a giant sucking sound about all of RantWoman's emotional energy. This is a BIG problem because of the next round of messages about Business Meeting coming up.



RantWoman is VERY clear not to withdraw her nomination. RantWoman is VERY clear she is sorry about some big communications screwups. RantWoman really cannot season Dear Friend's interventions in her life by herself any longer. RantWoman is not sure what is ripe for Business Meeting and RantWoman has various other quibbles and grumbles. RantWoman is also seasoning a message to our Clerk that is almost as argumentative as Dear Friend at his best. RantWoman is surprised by this last inclination and not at all sure she is or wants to be called to that role, but she is having trembling to the effect that she may have to do until someone better suited is available. What a peculiar problem.



But back to the gifts of the day. RantWoman exchanged email with Absent Friend who is not around our Meeting much right now but who is very good friends with Dear Friend. RantWoman learned that Absent Friend has almost exactly the same list of serious aggravations with Dear Friend as RantWoman except for a couple each topical to one person's life but not the other. RantWoman would again repeat that the planet really probably does not need more aggravations under any circumstances. However, the mere fact of having a long list of aggravations in common is SO liberating.



RantWoman has been completely freed of any and all obligations to take anything personally. RantWoman is still weighing how to interact with some of Dear Friend's perceptions of her. To the degree that others--including occasionally RantWoman herself, for better or worse--also detect traits, to the degree that a couple colossal RantWoman screwups certainly fall far short of the standards RantWoman would like to set for herself, RantWoman has to take a number of grumbles seriously. In RantWoman's peculiar estimation, one point of a proper faith tradition though is that one can ship any and all contrition, repentance, regret off in the direction of the Divine like an overdue Christmas package. RantWoman is not saying one must do that, let alone must do so precipitously without fully letting such emotions wash oneself clean at least for the moment. RantWoman is simply grateful to have the option.



RantWoman supposes she is being glib and grossly oversimplifying, but then comes the next gift. RantWoman has been reading the word "surrender" in more than one Quaker blog of late. RantWoman has this nudging that the word is somehow for her, but it keeps setting off all kinds of theology as women present alarms and flashing lights and blaring buzzers and red alert error codes. Today while seasoning the messages from Absent Friend, RantWoman thinks it will have to be enough to surrender any and all expectations that people--starting with RantWoman herself--can necessarily control themselves or interact rationally or at times even converse sensibly.



Again, RantWoman may WISH such of herself or especially of others. RantWoman may even be forced to admit that her list of things that push all her buttons way past pathetic is, compared to others' long and much more horrid lists, a bare blip. This bare blip, alas, is more than enough for RantWoman. More to the point, RantWoman gets immediately to surrender commitment to any expectation wishes as above will materialize. RantWoman then gets to live on Planet Earth with God present among us in all our peculiarities and peccadillos. RantWoman half always expects to be struck dead for paraphrasing a certain former Secretary of Defense: you go to life with the God you've got, not the God you might want, and that goes double for that of God wrapped up in all kinds of strange and difficult human packages.



As a side note, RantWoman is also stuck about the word "healing" in Ashley W's Welcome Prayer and the comments accompanying it. RantWoman thinks "healing" may be too presumptious a word, but in keeping with her Compost theme, growth is to be noted. RantWoman is really not there yet about thank you for such opportunities for growth, but then there would always be continuing revelation, evolution at glacial pace....

The final gift in connection with Absent Friend's words: she noted that she is pretty doubtful about Dear Friend holding it together a lot of the time but that she often has this powerful sense of him being Held. RantWoman realizes the first person she better get that point about is herself, followed immediately by Dear Friend.