Someone said, “Nothing is better than listening to a lie when you already know the truth.”
It took a while for me to digest that.
But these are times of fake news, of not knowing who or what to believe. It is nearly impossible to be certain of what we know to be true.
Like never before, truth has become negotiable, a commodity to barter, trade or sell. We have become experts at bending it—sugarcoating, disguising, concealing or totally ignoring it.
If you hear the same lie often enough, you begin to doubt what you know to be true. This is the hope of all liars—that believers will waver and fall for the lie. If they can cause even a sliver of doubt to sneak in, the liars have won.
The challenge we face is to remain steadfast, to stand our ground and keep the faith.
I said this to my friend. His reaction made me sad: “What for? It is too difficult. It is not worth the effort. It won’t make a difference anyway.”
These days, it seems easier to take the low road. It is less trouble to conform. It may even bring you fame and fortune.
But we remember the words of Michelle Obama: “When they go low, we go high.”
‘Lolas’ get together
It was an interesting reunion. Here I was, a great grandmother, having lunch side by side with young lolas, some still hyperventilating from the exhilarating experience, sharing photos, stories, questions. I was amused, to put it mildly, while they gushed and compared notes.
Over dessert, there was a mild rant.
I heard someone ask, “Do you have to make an appointment to see your grandchild?”
There was an uncomfortable pause. The question, I thought, was loaded. It came from a heart that had tasted a little bite of bittersweet.
“Do you need to ask permission to say or do anything for the baby?” There were some nods.
“Does your grandchild’s mother, your daughter, roll her eyes when you suggest a remedy for the infant’s teething woes?”
One lola was agitated: “No, but she said that, in her book, my methods are passé.”
“How often have they thrown their wealth of information at you, making you feel like you know zero about parenting?” Laughter.
“My son totally defers to his wife. I think she reads from a bible for millennial parents on the internet.”
Prehistoric
I tried to remember what I was like when my children were babies. Was I rude and a know-it-all with my mother? I do recall she bought my son’s first nursing bottles and I thought they were prehistoric. But I used them. Our “latest” back then was Evenflo. The bubbles stayed inside the bottle and not in your baby’s stomach.
Some genius has now invented square bottles that can’t roll away, with the cover and nipple shaped like a woman’s breast, making it easy to wean the baby from mommy to the bottle.
Later that day, a colleague had a story to share. She asked her son if they planned on a second child. His answer floored her. “My wife has five frozen eggs in the ‘ova bank’ waiting to be fertilized by me, if and when we decide on No. 2. Of course we want a girl this time.”
That lola was aghast. I am still confused. I don’t think I want to know exactly what that means. And no, I don’t feel like asking Google.
Take off that heavy load
Stuck in traffic the other day, I saw a woman in her 50s, carrying a heavy bag. She walked aimlessly, shifting the weight of her load from one shoulder to the other, to her hip, to the top of her head. She struggled to put both her arms around the bag, and it took the shape of her body. A few times she dragged it behind her, all the while with her hand tightly gripping the handle, careful not to lose it. I thought I heard her groan a couple of times.
At one point, the bag tipped over and spilled what looked like a mess of old clothes, rags, lots of garbage, torn books, empty bottles and smelly old shoes. She quickly returned them to the bag, furtively glancing around her, making sure no one was looking.
She approached a garbage can at the corner. Oh good, I thought, she will now dump it. But she ignored the bin, still hanging on to the bag as if it were some kind of priceless treasure.
The woman stayed on my mind for the rest of the day.
Hurt and resentment
And it made me think of the countless people, myself included, who have done just that. We carry big bags of hurt and resentment, and nurture the rotten and repugnant remnants of a life full of mistakes, regret and endless recriminations.
I can still hear my pastor: “Let it go. That garbage hinders your walk, it obstructs your journey. You can’t move on if you carry that load.”
Best-selling author Daphne Rose Kingma writes, “Holding on is believing there’s only a past; letting go is knowing there’s a future.”
It was slow. But I finally dropped my bag and walked away. And I found unspeakable joy.
By the grace of God, I have learned that the stumbles and missteps of your life do not define who you are.
We all know the saying: “You made your bed, now you lie in it.” This may be true, in part. But dear hearts, we are not doomed to stay there.
Wake up. It’s time to rise and shine.