Spiritual Ba-Ba
I woke to the rustle of little 2 month old toenails scratching in fits and starts at my back. She was hungry so I tried not to wake her mother and went downstairs just before sunrise to prepare the formula in the bottle. As I peered out the window into the backyard, the trees were all still and there seemed to be a Twilight Zone stillness to the air. My 9 year old son was flat on his back, head hanging off the side of his bed and my 2 year old had both her arms pulled up alongside and under and just looked like an absolute angel.
As I scooped the Nestle Good Start powder into the bottle I couldn’t help but recall that Talking Heads song: “This is not my beautiful house!” And me: An established teacher/husband/dad at 38? Where did the skinny 18 year old go who thought he was gonna be a famous songwriter? When I say skinny, trust me I mean it. I’m 5′8″ now and 165 pounds. At graduation in 1987 I was the same height and 122! My child bride wife (9 years younger), who didn’t meet me until I was 32, laughs at that and says: “I can’t imagine where to take the weight off you! That’s scary.” Good thing the food started sticking to my ribs about age 25. But I digress . . . I guess God had other plans for the songwriting and I had to let that dream go.
[quote]Next, I thought about how much I do indeed have. This is such a positive action. I highly recommend it multiple times daily.[/quote] I looked around at all the baby and kid stuff in our TV room. I realized that it all came about through my schooling, the loans, the headaches, the papers, the work dramas. I thought about atheists, again. I thought about how sad their state is. (Just my point of view, no offense to anyone please) Then I remembered the verse about judging others.
Well, I brought that spiritual ba-ba upstairs as the sun was starting to splinter its light over the mountain. The beauty of it caught me as I stopped shaking the bottle. I was overcome with emotion. I thought: “Wow. I’m human. I’m alive. This is so great!” It was overwhelming.
I got a letter in the mail yesterday from my school district showing my contract pay for next year. Though it’s only a third of what my dad and brother make in real estate, it’s approaching 3 times the amount I made when I started teaching back in 1997.
The tortoise and the . . .?
My wife was so pleased when she read it because she does the budget. Usually we have to use hand-me-down big ticket items like sofas and TV’s because we use our monthly income in the first two weeks on food, bills, and life. We try to keep credit spending down. My wife said as she did some figures with the new monthly amount:
“Honey, we are gonna be doing really well this year.”
WOO HOO! I was so relieved. Like I said my Dad and brother do very well in new home real estate. I have close friends that have become ridiculously wealthy through their songwriting and music. I’ve hung in there, I’ve become great at teaching. But I’m no Dave Matthews like I once dreamed. I used to pursue rock music as my life. It worked for my friend Gwen Stefani. Not for me? Not so much anyway. I have a MySpace, does that count for anything? The following are a couple of lines from a song I wrote back in 200 when I started to see my life had a different calling:
“I don’t need a million dollars and don’t want fame. I just want a place in the world and a chance to stay in the game.”
I’m still a songwriter, I’m still a writer. I am firmly convinced that God is not impressed with fame. In my life I have seen it play out again and again that He wants me to be faithful in the little things: like lesson plans, parent conferences, being kind, and making bottles before dawn. I went up and fed the baby as I fell back asleep. Then about an hour later I woke up and couldn’t sleep. I had to write about the spiritual baba. I was overcome by the inescapable realization that we have just 80 years with luck or even less. Maybe if I write things down, I can cheat fate. Maybe I can make something eternal in a world where it all (including me) swirls off one day as dust in the wind. Maybe? I’ll close with a line from John Lennon’s artistry in anticipated response to any detractors:
“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”
Popularity: 4%
I’d say you already have made “something eternal” - the 2-month-old you described today.
On a less serious level, you reminded me of the children of this household. My wife and I have been blessed with four to raise. The experience has been tender, maddening, worrying: but never boring.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks Norski. I feared I might have gotten a little too transparent in that one and cleared the room, so I appreciated your comment ;)
You had a human moment, the good kind. I sing your ending line all the time. Glad to have company.
Thanks Marcia!
If only those sweet and tender moments could come every day. Especially when you are looking at the kids in the classroom. Norski is right that you have made “something eternal” with your own children. As a teacher, you make something eternal every day. You are leaving a legacy right there. Lovely post, Damien.
Now that is a thought to hang on to on those difficult mornings driving to work :) So true.