Seeing in parts

I have a very old horse that doesn't winter over well. When I asked the vet to guestimate his age, she looked in his mouth (which is the best clue) and said, "Ancient." For the last five years at the onset of warmer, spring weather, I work at putting weight back on him and easing out his winter coat to encourage the shorter summer coat to come in. This process that takes months. And just when he's in top condition winter comes. This year was worse than ever. After some blood tests and assurance that his severe thinness was a nutritional matter and not an indication of organ failure, I reviewed his diet, again, and began on yet another aggressive new track. He's coming back nicely, but he's no show horse to be sure.

Last week, while I was grooming him after a day of being turned out in the pasture, I had a little revelation. Horses, unlike dogs and cats, are large animals. When they are being groomed, the groomer can only see one area at a time. When brushing his chest area one might think him a golden retriever by the length, color and softness of the hair. His mane and tail are lovely. His legs are handsome and tone. But there are other parts that are hard to see; bald patches where the long hair has fallen out all at once and the short coat is slow in coming in. The area around his eyes is dark and mostly hairless and his temples are deeply sunken, totally bald and scaley. Yet, his feet are good, he's very sound. When his weight is good, he's a wonderful horse to ride.

I decided to stop looking at the whole of him, instead celebrating the health and wholeness of each part of him where that was real and true. It seemed unfair to discount his strides of recovery by the parts that are not fully well yet. He is, in fact, more that the sum of his parts. Each part requires consideration - further care or a simple thanksgiving. To step back and view only the whole is sometimes too much to bear. It is too overwhelming. After all, when we began the build up three months ago, the only part to celebrate was the wellness of his feet - that he was sound and able to walk. How many more parts have now joined in this celebration of rebounding life!

This seems a better way to look at a lot of things in life. Sometimes learning to see accurately is not to strain to grasp the view of the whole, but to learn to see in parts. Those of us bent on seeking perfection know that it can never be found on a grand scale. But it just might occur in the small places; where the gaze is fixed on a frame of reference so narrow that one cannot tell a horse's coat from that of a dog. But what a soft and thick and wonderful patch of hair it is - regardless of who it belongs too!

This is especially useful in relationships. I find it difficult to look at my parent's life, or health, or happiness in terms of the whole. It threatens to tear my heart from its mooring. But when I am with them I celebrate the parts of them that are content, or healthy, or patient, or secure, or proud, or grounded, or otherwise well. There are enough dark eyes and bald patches that need care and attention; and they are not the whole story, only a part. So I chose to see in parts and celebrate that which speaks in terms of the quiet joy and wonder life, even while embedded in the least desireable circumstances and silent ponderings of 'Why?' Perhaps this is what God extends to us as grace, or perhaps just mercy.

Parenting and Perfection

There are some words that should not be in the same sentence; like Parenting and Perfection. There is an art to parenting and parenting teenagers pushes all the boundaries of imagination and creativity. Every parental decision has consequences that are often immediately apparent. Every day there are new challenges, calls to make, boundaries to set, rules to enforce or rethink - each one to be tested and stretched to the breaking point.  The trap is thinking that there is some magic perfect answer; that there is one right path, one right thing to do and say in every situation and that it should come naturally.  I read some where, very recently, though my mind is a sieve these days so I have no recall of where that might have been, that decisions are easy if your ethics are clear.  So I ask myself, "Does that mean that I don't have clear ethics because I wrestle over my apparent inability to see what the "right" response to each situation is supposed to be?"  The truth is, that being 16 in 2010 is not the same as being 16 in 1978; but I have not yet received the updated parenting handbook.  

A year ago, the parish I serve updated their by laws.  They had last been updated in 1983.  All the references to "vestrymen" were changed to reflect the fact that women now serve on vestries.  And the he, who would have been the "vicar," was replaced by he/she, the "rector." This is to say that in 1978 or even in 1983... I, as a teen, was not afforded the opportunity to even serve as an acolyte much less full membership with equal opportunity in the church.  I could, however, serve on the altar guild - somebody's got to wash the linens and polish the brass! For both good and for ill, the world is not the same place. So every day, I struggle with how to be a product of my age co-existing with those born in this new world; in particular, those I am trying to prepare for life on their own.

In 1983, women, much less girls, did not call boys, and there was some civility in youthful discourse with adults.  Cursing in public was considered offensive.  One cannot claim teen sex did not happen, that would be naive, but it was not quite so obvious.  Given such a radical departure from cultural norms, and the speed at which this has occurred, is it no wonder we old guys, who just don't get it, are second guessing every line we draw in the sand.  What's worse, I no more than draw the line then the tide comes in or the wind blows and the line has to be redrawn in a different place.  

Comparing my parenting style with others is of utterly no use either.  There is no one set of definitive rules to fit every kid in every situation; beyond the obvious: "Thou shalt not drink and drive." For instance, to one parent, letting a kid sleep away a school day whose exhausted from the daily demands of existing in the world of high school, work, and sports as a daughter, student, singer, athlete, employee and girl friend, is outrageous and completely unacceptable. (I tend to react to this place first, because the 1978 handbook, on which I was raised, did not allow for such possibilities.) Other parents, the ones who got the advanced copy of the recently updated handbook, are cool with the reality that teen bodies need more sleep than the rest of us and have the unreal ability to simply chill and trust their kid.  I'm still waiting for my advanced copy to arrive (my mail, of course), and then I'll have all the answers. I'll know exactly what the right thing to do and say; when its appropriate to be enraged and when its really no big deal in the great scheme of things.

But for today, my kid's at home sleeping because she is so exhausted from simply being 16 with all the expectations and the internal and external struggles that come with it, she's physically ill. So I'm trying to chill about it while I write my own sub-chapters, notes to self, and addendum because by the time that new handbook gets here, it will already be out of date - and I've got about four more years before I'll be sitting here again with the next kid.