Joy in Ordinary Time
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My Mama was a second grade teacher at the Gladwyne Elementary School in the rich suburbs of Philadelphia. She loved the children, but she was shy with the parents, who were financiers, pro ball players and attorneys, members of the Junior League, cricket clubs, fox-hunting clubs. For Christmas she would get amazing presents. One year she got a bottle of Joy perfume, then $150 an ounce. I don’t know that she ever wore it. She was keeping it for a special occasion.
She kept it so long that it finally evaporated.
About other things she was more openhanded. We had grandfather’s china and silver, which she often used. “That’s what they are meant for, to be used,” she said. “No sense in saving them. You’d never see them at all that way.”
That openhandedness didn’t extend to her own person. She wore sensible clothes, comfortable shoes, white cotton underwear. She had grown up the child of missionaries, and, whether she wanted it or not, that background was deep in her. She looked respectable and kind. She was cute and cheerful and funny.
Joy perfume didn’t fit who she seemed to be. A daughter never sees all the sides of her mother, though. It makes me smile to think that she harbored a hope that there would come an occasion where it could be her, where she might walk into a room smelling rich and sophisticated, cherished and valued, where it would be just the thing for her to wear. She let my sister and me smell it whenever we wanted to. The bottle sat like an honored but intimidating guest on her dresser. Whenever we smelled it we marveled at how much it had cost.
I don’t remember it ever occurring to me to wear it.
I want to let this lesson deep into me. Celebrate the body, the trooper of a body, that carries you through life, that pleasures you and lets you dance. Celebrate your body now, before you have lost the weight, before you get your muscle definition, before you feel justified by the harsh eyes of your expectations.
Celebrate being alive, drawing breath; celebrate that you are achingly sad today and that it will pass. It is good to be able to feel feelings. Celebrate that there was a love so big and good that it hurts to lose it. That there was a time so sweet that you ache, remembering. Celebrate those things. Honor the flowering of the tomato plants, the opening of the day lilies, the lemon smell of magnolias. Honor the ache of your heart and the tears falling.
Life is mostly ordinary time. Ordinary time, shot through with light and pain and love. Lavish joy on ordinary time. Hope is a wonderful thing, but not if it makes you put off splashing yourself with Joy.
From Waking Up the Karma Fairy: Life Lessons and Other Holy Adventures, by Meg Barnhouse, published by Skinner House in 2004, and available through inSpirit, a UU Book and Gift Shop.
She travels nationwide as a speaker, singer/songwriter and humorist.Often her partner, award winning singer/songwriter Kiya Heartood accompanies her.
Her books, “Rock of Ages at the Taj Mahal,” “The Best of Radio Free Bubba,” “Waking Up the Karma Fairy,” “Return of Radio Free Bubba” and “Did I Say That Out Loud?” are compilations of stories from the radio. The newest book, "Broken Buddha," is a compilation of columns from the UU World online. Her CD, “July Blue,” is a mix of 12 original songs and 3 stories. TheCD, “Mango Thoughts in a Meatloaf Town,” contains more original songs, including “All Will Be Well.” The CD,"Heart of Compassion," is a collection of Meg reading her favorite stories from her books.Ther fifth book is a collection of stories entitled "Broken Buddha".Meg's latest release is a story for all ages and control freaks called," The Couch of the Grand Kokolorum."
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