My father was a brilliant man. I always think of him at this time of year. His birthday is December 4. He was a brilliant man, a quiet man, and a very dissatisfied man. He hardly ever complained, but when he did complain, it was about something he didn't have. He needed a boat. Or a bigger house. He needed more money. A fancier tv. A vacation. A book (sometimes, he forgot and bought two copies of the same one...I confess, I have done this.) or a faster computer or a different town to live in or a motorcycle...and the list goes on. He was always convinced that once he had that thing, then everything would be better, and he would be happy.
Today my oldest son came to me in tears. Logan had spent the morning whooping and keening, and the decibel levels were at times ear piercing. My oldest was overwhelmed. He can't stand noise.
"What do you want?" I asked him. "What would be the magic cure for you?"
"I want someone to find a cure for autism. I want the noise to stop."
I would be a terrible mother if I told him not to worry, that someone would find a cure and that eventually the noise would stop. He was asking for normalcy. I could not give it to him.
"The noise is not going to stop. And no one is going to find a cure for autism right now, " I said. "It's not going to go away. So what do you plan to do about it?"
"I guess I can't do anything."
I touched his head. "What are you going to do about it in here? How you deal with this is everything. Attitude is everything."
Later we went to the store. I bought just a few essentials. On the way there I happened to glance at the Wal Mart parking lot. It was packed. I went somewhere else. I thought of all the people in there, rushing around, frantically looking for this thing or that thing because if they didn't find that particular thing, then little Susie or Bobby or whoever was going to be disappointed and upset. And I thought that was sad.
I could do a whole article on the commercialization of a holiday that is supposed to be dedicated to the birth of a King. I could go on about the selfishness and materialistic tendencies of the human race in general. Instead I thought about holes. Everyone has holes in their lives. And I think, like my dad, we get fooled into thinking that having a thing will fill that hole for good. If we can just have this car, or buy our kid that swingset, or own a certain pair of boots (guilty!), then we'll be happy. The problem is once you fill that hole another one opens up, ready to swallow the next thing you feed it. At some point, you have to decide that enough is enough, that the things you do have are more than adequate to cover the needs in your life, and that whatever you're feeling...sadness, or anger, depression, bitterness, greed...those things can't be remedied by a thing. Those things take a special kind of self awareness and spiritual first aid. Those things take recognition...of whatever is causing that feeling, and then a change of attitude.
I told my son today that happiness is a choice. So is despair and anger. Some situations and challenges are so difficult to deal with, they cause such emotional upheaval that it takes time to put things back into the proper perspective. But I would be wasting my time and affecting my children in a negative way if I complained about circumstances beyond my control and went through the day wishing for something I didn't have. As Daryl Dixon on "The Walking Dead" says, "People in hell want slurpees." We all want things, and it's okay to want things..it's even okay to be disappointed when we don't get those things....but it's also okay to be happy in spite of the things that are missing from our lives.
