Mrs Metaphor

A wise friend of mine told me a cyberstory this past week via email:

The Rabbi and the Gossip~

The Gossip is told by the Rabbi to take a feather pillow, stand in the center of town and shake it out.

He then tells the Gossip to retrieve every single feather that has scattered far and wide by the wind; an impossible task.

The lesson? Tales of gossip (true or untrue) like the feathers are gone forever once they leave you

and can never be retrieved.

I thought this was a good story so I thought I’d share it.

The land that surrounds my house is lined with trees. We sit in the center of a large circle of cedars, oaks, and dogwoods to name a few. When in bloom they obscure everything beyond the sight of their trunk. From the porch on my house I can stare into the varied shades of green which greet me, sunlight playing softly a tune that rustles with the wind. It is an alone sort of feeling. It is a private and secluded season.

When it is summer the hot air blows mindlessly over the browning grass until days of rain summon it to health again. I feel as though I could do or say anything. Perhaps it is my inner hermit which loves this separation from the outside world. The spring and the summer bring the warmth and the seclusion.

In the fall the leaves drop their cover and reveal us. We see the lights of a neighboring farm for the first time in months. The air chills and we pull on more clothing to keep us warm. I hold my sides tightly to brace for the coming cold.

When it is winter we are exposed, completely. We see cars drive out of the valley and up the road we forget exists while our trees are protecting us with their wrappings. We can see but more than that, we can be seen.

It is a hard lesson the first time we understand that what we do in the dark is revealed when the sun rises. It is a hard lesson to remember in the summer, under the sun’s warm guard and the clutter of tree burst that we are still accountable, that we are still seen, that we are still vulnerable. It is then that we remember that we are needed, we are valued, we are important, we are necessary.

We are winter people, here in the valley. We make ourselves known when we risk the cold that may yet come. We make ourselves vulnerable when we come out of hiding and present ourselves wholly before the world. While the summer spent basking in the sun is sweet the ability to stay concealed behind cover that is not ours to own is temporary. As the cycle continues, and it does continue…our cover lay crumbling beneath us, giving voice to footsteps, a warning of strangers approaching.

In the winter we let go our protection when seemingly we may need it more than ever. We let fall our leaves. We lay bare our faces and look out through the trees in the hope that we will see and we will be seen. Yes, we are indeed Winter People here in the vale…not by nature perhaps but at the very least by experience.

I blame it on my childhood. When my parents would argue I would try to think of ways to fill the gap. I was small, though, only a child and children can’t fill gaps left by grown ups, especially when the grown ups do not want that gap filled. So I contented myself to mediating amongst my siblings. This was not a welcomed practice but I kept it up to my own detriment. I do blame my childhood for this habit but looking back it’s hard to figure out what made me think I had gained proficiency in it. The reality is that I never became much of a peacemaker. I would throw up my hands in despair when my efforts were both unfruitful AND unappreciated. The problems of the people I was mediating became my own problems and their emotions, my emotions.

Now, as a parent I find I am suffering from this same disease. I find myself trying to make peace between my children. I try logic, I try kindness, I try threats and then when those don’t work I throw up my hands in despair and bellow to no one in particular “what am I doing in this nut house?”

Once, a few weeks ago I was so overwrought that I actually just laid face down on the floor til they stopped arguing. Sadly, this only stopped the flow of bickering for about a minute and then they were back at it again. But, while lying on the floor I had a revelation. Am I attempting to be the peacemaker with these children or the peacekeeper?

Peacekeepers make me think of policemen and soldiers in foreign countries…enforcing laws that someone else has made, laws and rules made by peaceMAKERS. Their purpose is clear, the authority is granted, the rules are in order. The trouble I have, I mused during my humble siesta on the hardwood floor, is that I’ve been trying to be the peaceKEEPER in a land where the peaceMAKERS have made no laws. I have not laid out the guidelines; although I suppose I thought, “don’t hit the dog with a shovel” would be a no brainer…apparently not.

You see, the people I am dealing with here in “nuthouse central” do not know the simple laws of household civility. I had some expectation that they would come hard wired with this. It was not until I threw myself to the floor in a fit of despair that I realized my job was impossible without the groundwork laid. How can I enforce laws that do not exist?

If sister hits brother because she’s annoyed my response has been, “Why on EARTH would you hit him? ” She feels remorse for a moment, gives big weepy looks my way and then wails a loud “I’m sorry!” Well, what then? Apologies all around, forgiveness ensues, everyone’s happy. Except me, because 5 minutes later someone is hitting someone else.

It’s all about the follow through. I have no follow through. I have mommy brain. I have dogs eating cellphones and children removing their own dirty diapers during the time period that “follow through” is meant to happen. I consider making a chart for the wall…I saw this online. It is called the “IF…THEN….” chart and the idea is something like this; “If you hit someone…then….blah blah blah…(punishment here).” You do the crime you do the time. I imagine this wonderful scenario in which someone commits an off limits act and I calmly walk to the wall chart. “Oh, juvenile arson…that’s 2 weeks without the CD player.” It seems perfect. Just what I need to make this family really work together and bow to my iron fist. Unfortunately I can think of 35 reasons that this will not work however, and they all have to do with the Follow Through. Damn, the Follow Through, it’s never been my strongpoint.

Maybe I will just spend more time on the floor, face down. This seems to awaken my brain at the very least and produce happy, productive thoughts amidst the chaos. Maybe this, in turn will lead to more happy, productive thoughts and I can finally begin to work on that Follow Through. Maybe.