Missing the mark
My new motto: Be kind to everyone (even my mom)
This is The Meadow. Michele's biweekly-ish essay for those seeking to be more fully awake and alive in the world.
I am a sinner. Using that language is cringe-y, given how that phrase has been used historically as a kind of Christian platitude. But it does explain something fundamental about who I am. I miss the mark. Often.
Today, I argued with my mom about her choosing not to get the vaccine. She’s almost 80, and a lung cancer survivor, making her in the “very vulnerable” category. I adore her, and I don’t want to lose her. She’s been heavily influenced by some American Catholics who are questioning the ethics of using medicine that originates from fetal cell lines 50 years ago. And by politicians who seem be making everything political, even basic science. Oh, and her doctor supposedly told her it was “okay” if she didn’t get it. So I got angry.
It’s taken me a long time to learn that anger is not a sin. It’s an emotion. A powerful, energizing emotion, often triggered when we perceive some injustice or harm. Feeling anger is ok, I’ve learned. What’s not ok is to project anger AT people (or animals or even plants—pillows and other inanimate objects are perfectly acceptable though).
Well, friends, I did it anyway—projected my anger AT my mom. And I didn’t even feel badly about it at first. She needed to hear the truth, I thought. But later, speaking to a friend, I shared what I had said. She stopped me, noting that it was not ok to do what I had done. I tried to justify myself, and she empathized with me but still held firm. It’s not ok to put others down, no matter what the issue. There—there in that moment, by the grace of God--I *felt* it. That twinge of conscience. That sense of uh oh. I messed up.
For those of you following this newsletter, you’ll know that I’ve been practicing “Memento Mori” this Lent. Actively remembering my death each day. It’s not fun. This is not a fun Lent at all. But it feels right, like digging up deep roots in the earth to make way for new plantings.
Well, a while after my conversation with my friend, a thought came to me: What if I died today? What if my mom does? Would I want our last conversation to be so ugly?
No. No, I would not want that at all.
Because I’ve subjected myself to this chipping away at my ego for a long time (still so much further to go!), I didn’t immediately descend into shame or self-hatred at the realization of how I had “missed the mark” and hurt my mom. Instead, I felt a sense of grief and deep sorrow. I needed to make amends.
So I wrote a painful apology, acknowledging what I had done and apologizing for it. No excuses, just letting myself been seen in the ugliness I had done and repenting. She responded so graciously (my mom really is a living saint), and she immediately said if I had time, she’d come over for tea. Instead of avoiding the one who hurt her, she’s embracing me.
I don’t really know why I’m sharing all this, except to say that we all miss the mark, and that’s ok. It’s our human nature. The bad part is not the bad thing we do, it’s the hiding from it. The hiding makes it all worse. The worst part of the Garden of Eden story is not eating the apple. It’s how Adam and Eve didn’t take responsibility. And hid from the truth.
Those twinges of conscience, THAT is what I need to remember to pay attention to, to let them speak their truth to me. And then make amends for whatever new sh*t I’ve done. To be ok admitting I’m a sinner. We all are. We all miss the mark. But we have recourse to deep healing when we let in the light of truth and own up to our failings. Stumbling our way to heaven: that place where love wins. All the time.
Big hugs, my friends,
-Michele
Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
I look forward to your thoughts and comments. It feels wonderful to connect with others who share a similar commitment to waking up and living life more fully alive. I want to learn from your experiences, and I hope what I write is of some help or comfort too.
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