Too Afraid for Joy

On Saturday, I was thrown a lovely, lovely baby shower by the ladies in my family and extended church family. It was beautiful. I was surrounded all day by those who love me and are so very excited for Husband and I, and the collective wisdom and generosity of women who have been sisters, daughters, aunts, mothers, grandmothers, and even great-grandmothers were palpable to me as we talked and laughed.

Feeling very full but tired, I came home late on Saturday with a carload of things to make our lives with the baby easier, which all went into the nursery. Sunday I worked all day, and when Monday afternoon came, I started trying to make a master thank-you list and setting up the nursery. I managed to make the list, but I couldn't bring myself to open anything that we had been given. Cognitively, I know the clothes and blankets need to be washed, the closet organized, the furniture set-up, the curtains hung. And cognitively, I know that everything is going to be fine, in just a few weeks we'll be bringing home a baby girl, who will need all of these things, and we will need them to be ready, not scattered around the nursery in their boxes. Far better to start the process now and keep working at it over a few weeks than to do it after the baby arrives.

But I realized after having to go in there on Monday, that I've been avoiding the nursery since we designated that room the nursery. I haven't set anything up, I haven't been able to cut the tags off of the cute little outfits that have been accumulating from friends, I haven't been able to commit to a paint color. And on Monday, I realized why.

I'm afraid. Actually, I'm really afraid.

I'm afraid about what happens if I set it all up, and our hearts are broken. I'm afraid of trying to return things that we don't need, knowing that everything can be lost in an instant, or over the cruel progression of weeks or months in the NICU. I'm just plain old scared, even though as I write this I'm getting kicked by a healthy daughter, who at thirty-three weeks is not just fine, but feisty. And this fear that's been ruling this pregnancy, at least since we moved and it got real, has been blocking me from getting excited about becoming a mother and meeting her. Even more than that, this fear has sucked the joy out being where we are now. Everyone around me seems to feel joy for us; but while I wait in fear for the other shoe to drop, I can't feel that joy myself.

Brene Brown writes in The Gifts of Imperfection that the opposite of joy isn't sadness, but fear. Being afraid of losing what we have closes down the ability to be grateful, right now, for what we do have. And the practice of gratitude, Brown points out, is a prerequisite for joy. The presence of fear drives away gratitude, and as such, fear drives away joy.

What I realized, standing in that nursery full of baby socks in packs and cloth diapers still in the plastic, was that unless I do something now, I'm always going to be too afraid for joy. A healthy delivery means I'll be afraid of measles and SIDS. Reaching a year will mean I'll be afraid of her choking on something that fits inside a paper towel roll, and when she's beyond that, I'll still be afraid of leukemia, car accidents, drowning, school shootings, sports-related concussions, and rare side effects of communicable diseases. There will always be something more to fear.

So, tomorrow, I'm taking a tiny baby step and cutting the tags off of everything, seven weeks early. I'll wash what needs to be washed, assemble the mobile and the bouncer seat, rearrange the furniture, and work on being grateful that we are where we are today.

RiverSmart Homes

Just a brief PSA for those who live in the District: Husband and I just got on the waiting list for the RiverSmart Homes program offered by the city. In a nutshell, the program offsets costs for installing rain barrels, trees, bayscaping, pervious pavers, and rain gardens, up to $1200. It took us five minutes to apply online, and the waiting list is only two to four months right now (the website cautioned up to six.)

We're looking into rain barrels and a rain garden for practical reasons -- namely, our backyard turns into a swamp whenever it rains -- but we're also participating because doing the best we can to preserve our rivers and environment is ultimately an ethical obligation, and one that I act upon as a part of my personal faith. Everything I've been given, everything, even my very breath and the water I drink, is a gift from God. To respond to these gifts with carelessness is to not live in gratitude for them. And living in gratitude is a cousin to living in grace, as they are two sides of the same coin. Both come from Latin's gratus, which means pleasing, or thankful.

And not to be flip, but seriously, the Anacostia River needs all the help it can get. Every little bit matters.

Just say "Thank You"

One time, in my life before being a clergy person, I was working at Large International Non-Profit, training to be a fundraiser. A corporation had called, wanting to know if someone could help set up online giving to our organization. Because no one thought anything much would come from it, I was assigned as their relationship manager, and worked with them to get the paperwork straightened out.

Well, disaster strikes as it always will again, and in response, this corporation calls their contact -- me -- and informs me they will be donating (literally) a million dollars. I remember getting the phone call, being absolutely shocked, covering the phone, and mouthing to my coworkers "They want to give us a million dollars! What do I do?"

To which my lovely co-workers replied, "SAY THANK YOU!"

Oh! Say thank you.

Sometimes, the only response is "Thank you."

I've been feeling like that a lot lately. My life has been very full with different life events, family weddings, church work, friends, family visiting from Seattle, and big life changes for Husband and myself, and yet in all of the chaos, it's been really, really good. Not always easy, but good. And the only thing to say in response has been "Thank you."