Comfort in Words

There is great comfort in words, whether it be the kind words of a friend, the lyrics of a song that stay within you and resonate, or the words of an excellent story. I am a person who loves words. I would rather have a word to carry with me into the dark night, than pretty much anything else. Words are like food, and I hunger for them, and search them out like choice morsels. So often, words form a chain, from the lips of a friend, to a song we heard, to the written page... all the same necessary message.

A few years ago I decided to read Tolkien's Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I had started it several times, always stalling in the first hundred pages or so. This time I would persevere, and read the entire story. I remember reading passages, and feeling the story crawl under my skin. It describes a time, early in Frodo's journey, when he begins to realize what he has undertaken, and the horrible danger of it. It goes:

They stood for awhile silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge. In that lonely place Frodo for the first time fully realized his homelessness and danger. He wished bitterly that his fortune had left him in the quiet and beloved Shire. He stared down at the hateful Road, leading back westward--to his home. Suddenly he was aware that two black specks were moving slowly along it, going westward; and looking again he saw that three others were creeping eastward to meet them.

Those black specks were of course the black riders, out to seek his life and to end his mission. There was of course, no safe road home. The words of this passage resonated in me, at a time when I realized that I had chosen a road that was fraught with danger and difficulty. One day, like Frodo, I had found myself looking back on the road I had recently traveled, and I realized that I found the sight of that road hateful to me. I hated the road for bringing me so far from all I held dear, and familiar, and comfortable. As I gazed backward from my imaginary high ground, I saw that the road home was fraught with danger, and that going backward was no longer a safe option. I knew that my only option was to press forward, though it seemed unlikely that this option would prove safe either. In that instant, I truly did hate the road for carrying me anywhere at all, and for making me so weary and worn. Perhaps I am a bit hobbit-like at heart.

Recently I came upon a song, in a rather roundabout way. A friend posted a link to a video, that touched my heart, but also made me search for this album. I actually purchased it, something I have not done in years. When it arrived in the mail, I put it into my CD player, and lay down on the floor, and listened to the songs. I still found that I loved the original song I had first heard, and liked all of the others. But one song spoke to me at a fundamental level. It is a song called "The Long Defeat", and if I could send you to a link of it, I would. I can only find it in its entirety in one place, and it's set as background music to a home made TV show trailer, and the video really detracts from the song.

OK. I promise I'm going somewhere on this rabbit trail. I was reading the info about the song, and I saw that its title had come from a quote by Paul Farmer. In his biography written by Tracy Kidder, he is quoted as saying:

I have fought the long defeat and brought other people on to fight the long defeat, and I am not going to stop because we keep losing. Now I actually think sometimes we may win. I don't dislike victory.... You know, people from our background-- like you, like most PIH-ers (Partners In Health-ers), like me--we're used to being on a victory team, and actually what we're trying to do in PIH is to make common cause with the losers. Those are two very different things. We want to be on the winning team, but at the risk of turning our backs on the losers, no, it's not worth it. So you fight the long defeat.

It's an amazing quote really, and made me go do a little internet research about Paul Farmer. It also made me want to read the book, which I am going to try and order from the library next time I go there. But I wondered where he had come up with this vaguely familiar concept of the long defeat. There seemed to be a bit of disagreement, but I came to the conclusion that it was likely he was quoting from one of his favorite books, The Lord of the Rings. It seems that Galadriel says to the weary Frodo, "Through the ages of the world we have fought the long defeat."

For days, and weeks, the phrase "the long defeat" has echoed in my ears. What in the world is the "long defeat"? And why in the world would anyone in their right mind want to fight it? I am all for choosing the winning side and planning and working toward victory. I see almost everything as a win or a loss, and I am not accustomed to losing. I have been known to carefully weigh odds, and choose not to participate, based on the assumption that I could not win, and was therefore wasting my time.

For the last few years, I have been fighting the uphill battle, desperate to wring wins out of the excruciating effort. As time rolls on, and I am able to see the writing on the wall, I must acknowledge that I am likely fighting the "long defeat" in many areas of my life. Here are the lyrics that grab me, and wring something out of my soul:

I have joined the long defeat that falling set in motion.
All my strength and energy are raindrops in the ocean.

So conditioned for the win, to share in victors' stories,
but in the place of ambition's din, I've heard of other glories.

I pray for an idea, and a way I cannot see.
It's too heavy to carry, and impossible to leave.

I can't just fight when I think I'll win, that's the end of all belief;
and nothing has provoked it more than a possible defeat.

I pray for an idea, and a way I cannot see.
It's too heavy to carry, and impossible to leave.

We walk awhile, we sit and rest, we lay it on the altar.
I won't pretend to know what's next, but what I have I've offered.

I pray for a vision, and a way I cannot see.
It's too heavy to carry, and impossible to leave.
I pray for inspiration, and a way I cannot see.
It's too heavy to carry, and impossible to leave.

(The Long Defeat by Sara Groves)

Up to this point in my life I never really had to pray for an idea, vision, inspiration. I have always been full of ideas. Up until now, I had never found myself in the middle of the road, facing the dilemma that my burden was too heavy to carry, but too precious to abandon. I am not acquainted with "the way I cannot see". I was always too smart to choose the losing side.

Purse Party

A good time was had by all...I hope. The "banana flambam" was eaten up, and we only had to pluck one small child out of the litter box. So far fourteen out of twenty purses are gone, and I still have several ladies that want one, plus I haven't bought mine. We have additional custom jewelry orders, and chocolate orders for Easter. I am hoping to wrap up the party by the end of the week, and send the first check. Then we will fill the additional jewelry and chocolate orders and send another check after Easter. Really, as long as we have customers, we'll make more.

Queen B, your bags are on the way! I won't have to beat people off of your Chelsea bag anymore!

Tomorrow's the Big Day

Last night I was pondering how nice and quiet things were. One of my children was at work, two were grounded, and two were angry at me. One was angry because I caught them lying, and the other was angry because I had found out about them being excessively, unbelievably rude to an elder. I'm not really sure what I did to deserve their wrath, since I didn't do more than discuss it with either one, but that's just how those things go. The good news was, they were both punishing me by hiding out in their rooms. Yeah! Hubby and I got the living room, and most of the evening, all to ourselves. It was nice to just hang out and talk about nothing important.

Today was nice too. We had tons to do to get ready for our big girlie party tomorrow. We are selling purses, and jewelry, and homemade chocolates, all to benefit Haitian relief work. Since the boys have several Celtic dance gigs coming up (for obvious reasons), we have dance in the morning. This meant I was really scrambling to get the house company clean, prep food, prep for the party, make chocolates, and encourage the girls to finish up their jewelry creations. What a breath of fresh air, to hear them giggling over their work, and making offers to help me in any way. One child said, "Mom, I'm just trying to stay out of your way, but let me know if I can hep you." Am I dreaming?

How is it that we can swing back and forth between such harmony and kindness, and such backbiting and squabbling? If only I could figure out a way to make the pendulum stick over on the kindness side. If I do, I'll make a million dollars teaching it. In the meantime, wish us luck. Purses, bling, and chocolate...what more could a girl want?

A Blog I Read Sometimes

I only read occasionally. I find the subject matter difficult. I applaud their work with malnourished children in Haiti, but the accounts of what they deal with daily are grueling. Now I read this, and find it grueling as well. How can injustice like this happen, especially at the hands of those who are sent to help? There are many things I do not understand.

Here We Go!

We are moving along with our plans to make some cash for Haiti.

• Phase one, giant cookies. We make this pizza sized, colossal cookie as a gift now and then. It's very popular with just about everyone. We're taking orders for Valentine's week, and making them with Valentine M&M's. I'm going out tomorrow to scout material costs so I can price them.
• Phase two, purse parties. My dear eldest daughter and I are hosting home parties to sell purses made by Haitian seamstresses, to help them be self supporting and to help fund the relief effort.
• Phase three, bring on the bling. My three youngest daughters will use their jewelry making skills and creativity to make (truly) gorgeous jewelry. They plan to sell this and send all the profits to the Haitian relief effort.

This effort involves all of the children in baking, creating, selling, and maybe even a few unglamorous jobs like dish washing and house cleaning. Our plan is to be done by the end of February and see how it goes. Then, who knows. Maybe phase four?

Nothing Matters...Everything Matters

This past week began with a friend from Bloggyland, running the Disney marathon to raise money for a mission in Haiti. It is a ministry to pregnant women (among many other things), and they were trying to raise the funds for an emergency vehicle that would reliably transport women to the center when they were in labor, as well as other emergencies. Many women, with no reliable transportation of any kind, end up delivering at home, or on the street as they try to make their way on foot to the center. Often the babies are delivered in the dark, as there is no reliable electrical power either. That was Haiti on a good day. In the eleventh hour, our family decided that we wanted in. We wanted to donate a little of the excess we enjoy, and so we hit that Paypal button, and watched our in-the-computer friends with even more interest. I had been checking the blogs to see how the event went. It went well. The huge sum of money was raised. There is to be an emergency vehicle, praise God. Next came a blog about unwinding in Disneyworld with the family, and I could smile, and remember doing the same. Then came a blog to pray for Haiti, and everything changed.

How hard to be in the "happiest place on earth", and be filled with fear and grief for loved ones in Haiti. I cannot imagine. I have no ties to Haiti, not really. I have friends who have adopted Haitian children. I read blogs about several missions to Haiti. I have friends and family members who traveled to Haiti on short term mission trips. I have sent a few dollars throughout the years, to help here and there. But even I cannot pull myself away from the news reports. I scan the mission blogs for ways to help. I consider ways to pull some money together. It seems like so little in the face of it all. It almost seems as though it doesn't matter.

I am acutely aware of how comfortable I and my family am. I have better medical care for my pets than the people of Haiti have for their children. I have so much food, that I have to clean my fridge of leftovers...well not much, but some. Everything in my life screams, "You have more than you need." I am tempted to feel guilty, but guilt just makes me want to shut it off and feel hopeless. It must matter that I am here, living this blessed life. I need to take stock of the many good things we enjoy, and not forget them. I know I can pull together some money, and money is probably all I can do to help. I could write a check and mail it off. But I am smart, and able bodied, and I have time (no really I do). Is there a way to multiply that money so that it keeps growing? Is there a way to draw my coddled American family into the labor? Six more able bodies, and mostly able minds? I'm not sure yet, but I'm thinking about it.