Daily Grace, Presence

Book Drunk

December 30, 2023

My trusty iPod with the click wheel. It was a tech gift I received that changed my life decades ago. I still use it for background music occasionally in my massage practice.

I think I am book drunk.

I signed up for a four month trial of Audible, an audiobook service, for a discounted price and used my first credit this week to get the audio version of Dr. Abraham Verghese’s “The Covenant of Water.” I had checked this book out from the library a week ago after finally making it to the top of a long waiting list. When I realized the book was more than 700 pages long and that I couldn’t  renew it because of the waiting list, I had to figure out another way to enjoy it, because there was no way I would make it through a 700 page book in just a few weeks. And I wanted to read it! This book was Oprah’s 101st Book Club pick. She said it was one of the most “gripping, exquisite novels she had ever read.”

Audible to the rescue.

I think that my Audible app on my phone is the kind of technology that might change my life. The last time I benefitted so much from a tech upgrade was nearly two decades ago when my father-in-law gave me an iPod for Christmas. It was one of the first models with a click wheel. Suddenly, I could download songs and carry them with me. I could make my own music playlist for massage appointments. I could listen to podcasts while I exercised. I told him that it was a gift that changed my life for the better.

I think Audible might do that, too. I am in the car a lot, since I work in a town about thirty miles from my home. In the past, I’ve spent hours listening to podcasts. Podcasts are great! But they start to wear on me, especially as the New Year approaches. So many tips and tricks for making my life better! A constant stream of self-help can tire the soul sometimes.

Listening to a fiction book is a completely different experience. There is nothing in fiction that scolds me to reflect on my year or encourages me “to stop living a default life…and start taking small steps to create real change” (as one of the promos for a podcast I’m subscribed to said recently).

And yet?

“Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives.” (a quote from “The Covenant of Water.”)

Yes. The story, if it’s well-written, takes me over. If I’m listening in the car, when I arrive at my destination, I have to sit for a minute or two, with the engine and book turned off, just to get my bearings again. I have to shake off the world of the book and come back to the parking lot, to the job that I have to do or to the groceries I have to buy. I remember when I was an intern years ago in Washington, D.C that I had a friend who used to read a book on her walk to work. I think it was an actual book book, not something on audio, since this was late in the previous century. She told me that she was careful, that whenever she got to a stoplight, she paused, put the book down, and gave herself time to make sure she was aware of what was going on with traffic. She’d wait for the walk signal, cross the street and then go back to her book again.

I think of myself as a reader. I tell people I’m a reader. But the truth is? I don’t read as much as I’d like. I see how audiobooks could change that. I’ve enjoyed a few books on my library audiobook app, Hoopla. Audible gives me immediate access to more books, though, and to newer books that book clubs are reading without waiting.

The “Covenant of Water” is a 31-hour audio book. If I just listened to it in the car, it would take me a month of daily commuting trips to get to the end. But here is something I am just realizing: I can listen to it when I’m also doing household tasks. I can listen while I’m folding laundry, doing dishes, getting the dog’s food ready, getting ready for bed. In the past, when performing so many of these daily tasks, I would daydream. And sometimes, often actually, my daydreaming was tinged with worry. Or fretting. Or perseverating on things that had happened that day, or that might happen tomorrow. Things I regretted. Things I felt sad about. I just started listening to the “Covenant of Water” this week, and somehow I’m already thirteen hours into it. It has captivated me and is breaking my heart a little. Oprah said that in the end, I will be touched by the “shimmering resilience of the human spirit.”

So for now? I’m listening. I’m listening to my book whenever I can. And when I’m listening? I’m not worrying, so that’s a win right there. The book is also teaching me: about India’s history, the caste system, the British role there. It’s making me want to cook the lentils that are in my pantry with the spices that the book’s characters use. This beautiful book is taking me on a journey into a different world.  I can’t get it out of my head. It’s making me book drunk. And as I head into the New Year, book drunk seems like the best kind of drunk to be.

Daily Grace, Presence

Childbirth Is Messy: a Christmas Reflection

December 23, 2023

…and change is hard.

(but without them, we wouldn’t have Christmas)

Childbirth is messy. I am remembering the three days I was in labor with my daughter (who, in case anybody is wondering, pretty much weighed more at birth than she did for years after. Ten pounds, she was!) She was my first baby; I had no idea what to expect. I wore my favorite fuzzy slippers to the hospital, since they were comfortable and made me happy. I never wore them again after that birth experience. I don’t know why nobody told me ahead of time that giving birth (and especially the aftermath) would pretty much ruin them.

It’s funny how our culture has cleaned up and sanitized the Christmas birth story. It’s “Silent Night, Holy Night,” not “Wailing Baby, Excruciating Labor Pains” night. My first labor and delivery experience was wrenching and long, and I had nurses to help me and drugs that eased the pain. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for Mary, to go through that basically alone, in a barn. It must have been so painful.

So this is just to say that birth is not easy, and that’s a part of the Christmas story I haven’t thought much about. I don’t think many of us have. Our culture has done its best to turn Christmas into “the most wonderful time of the year,” a season where we look for joy and peace (and feel like there is something wrong with us if we aren’t feeling so great). But also there is shopping (and baking. And decorating) that must be done, which doesn’t always go along with the “joy and peace” theme very well. But without the shopping, what would happen to our capitalistic nation? Things would fall apart.

This is strange. We long to experience the peace of Christmas but feel pressure to spend and get so many other holiday things done, too.

If we go back to the original point of Christmas, the birth of Jesus, surely it was not peaceful or sweet in the way we usually think of those words. Yes, there was joy when he finally arrived (and shepherds, too. The shepherds are one of my favorite parts of the story). Hopefully there is always joy with a new baby’s birth. But for his mother and Joseph, there must also have been fear and uncertainty. And, of course, for Mary? There was tremendous pain.

This Christmas season has been a strange one for me. Thinking about what Mary went through in the labor and delivery process (in a barn) has given me a strange sense of peace. Maybe it’s OK that I’ve been a little out of sorts, because the process of birthing something new can be painful.  Sometimes, perhaps, the new arrives effortlessly. I guess? But for Mary (and me), the new right now isn’t arriving wrapped up in a jolly song, with a fa la la la la Hallmark Christmas movie ending. Sometimes, it shows up with blood and rips you apart.

Then? With time?

There is healing.

Then? With time? I can embrace and love whatever it was that was born through the pain.

Soon, I hope.

Soon.

Merry Christmas, my friends. Grateful for you at Christmas and always.