I’ve been thinking a lot lately about getting what we deserve. I think somehow when we are kids, we just accept realities without a lot of existentialism. If mom made meatloaf for dinner, you don’t ask why, you just eat up and call it a day. Many times life is just survival and trying to get through each day. Pain remains a tremendous opportunity to expand our empathy. With an auto-immune disored, being able to connect and disconnect from your own body remains a powerful tool, if not a confusing one.
Growing older, I began to identify consequences that the natural world seemed to invite. Every poor choice had an equal and opposite reaction. So if you just THOUGHT hard enough, FELT deeply enough, TRIED with every ounce of your being, you could nearly circumvent every obstacle. While I don’t think I would have articulated that out loud, it remains one of the big misconceptions that inundates my life.
But something didn’t add up. The most intelligent, self-aware person I knew committed suicide. Some homeless people I met seemed kind and blessed. Individuals may struggle for mental peace and never “achieve” that goal. In my own loving, romantic relationships I’ve overthought EVERY step and still ended up heartbroken. You can do everything “right” and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life. Surely, every pained individual wasn’t deserving of that. Does pain automatically equal punishment?
I still wrestle every day with my own auto-immune disorder. Some days the consequences are obvious because of diet, stress, sleep, exercise, and/or hydration. I have SOME control. But other days the consequences seem arbitrary and undeserved. Follow every rule, and still wind up broken. Cut to my hysterectomy journey, in which I’m disgusted with myself, my body and what it’s “chosen” to do. I feel ugly, unlovable, and diseased. I set out with great enthusiasm and flailing. What do we do in circumstances we can’t control? We micromanage, over-think, over-act and generally stumble all over ourselves, while looking FABULOUS! It’s all my fault. It always has been. Always will be. Every person I loved who ever left, did so because I somehow drove them away. Every physical pain I’ve ever endured is from a Universe who is punishing me for my nature. I don’t deserve to be in a loving relationship because I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve to have children in my life because I am too selfish. With every “misstep” or every self-perceived negative circumstance, it was a confirmation of what I already knew; I don’t deserve good things because I’m not good enough. There are some moments when everything about me seems misaligned, and as though I were constructed for a great purpose, but am somehow ill equipped to achieve it.
In a sparkling display of entitlement I’m left wondering why “so and so” hasn’t uploaded a registry gift. I’ve paid hundreds of dollars for your wedding, baby shower, and birthday gifts, and you can’t buy me a five dollar gift card? I also am not a big fan of the “Call me whenever you need me! I am ready to do anything you require!” followed by no action whatsoever. I need you to get me a five dollar gift card and listen to me complain in my blog. That’s it. You can’t do the surgery for me. Get me a Starbucks card and go about your business!
But here comes the wonderful thing about grace; it is coupled with mercy. When I don’t get what I deserve, but receive what I haven’t earned. Here comes a random acquaintance I knew 20 years ago with a $50 gift card. Here comes a student who got to choose an item their parents are paying for. Here comes some inquisitive questions from little voices, and beautiful artwork that I’ll save forever. It’s somehow all tied together. Here comes gift after gift from an anonymous sender, and I pretend it’s from every person who ever hurt me. This is their redemption, and I forgive them once again. It’s an illness I don’t deserve, and gifts I haven’t earned. It’s a Universe that exists in the molecules of Love. It’s a really good life with some bad days attached. It’s imperfect parents who love their imperfect daughter. It’s a body working hard to produce the wrong results. It’s a heart that deserves to be loved, and a lifetime devoted to children. Who would of thunk?
It’s grace.
