Spirituality Creation arises from the chaos of our messy
lives
By RICH HEFFERN
Special to the National Catholic Reporter
Patricia Livingston leads workshops, retreats and seminars
throughout the country. In 1990, Livingston was given the U.S. Catholic Award
by U.S. Catholic magazine, for furthering the cause of women in the Catholic
church. She is author of Lessons of the Heart. Her newest book, This
Blessed Mess: Finding Hope Amidst Lifes Chaos, was just published by
Sorin Books. She lives with her husband, Howard Gordon, in Tampa, Fla.
NCR: Your book title says that life is a blessed mess.
How do you find hope in the chaos?
Livingston: We are raised thinking that our lives are
supposed to flow smoothly. When the inevitable struggles and mishaps come, we
think theres something wrong with us. I grew up thinking that my life
would unfold with a certain peace and stability and nothing much would go
wrong. Boy, was I mistaken! When I give talks, people are so relieved to hear
out loud that life is just very messy for almost all of us.
Were educated to think that the messiness is not supposed
to be there?
Yes, and sometimes you can keep that illusion going for quite a
while. But sooner or later the messes will happen. It helps especially if you
are white and live in the First World.
You can escape a lot of stuff, but still the bad things happen to
everyone. When something finally goes wrong and the mess knocks on the door,
you just want it to go away. It seems unreal. Of course, it doesnt go
away, you have to stay with it. And gradually you discover that it has a life
of its own. And its helpful for us to sit and be with that knowledge.
You find in the end, too, that things that matter wouldnt
happen if you didnt have a messy life. If the failure or catastrophe is
always what meets your eye, then thats what it is. But when you start
looking you will see that very often new life comes out of the broken places
and that the chaos was the raw material for it. That dynamic is all through
scripture, and its also all through life itself.
Every time I come onto a new example of this I get excited. I
visited my son and his wife once just after they moved to Alabama and there I
ran across a monument to the boll weevil. It seems that long ago that insect
pest had come and devastated the cotton crop in the area. Farmers were
desperate. How could they make a living without their cotton? But it was
discovered that raising peanuts instead made a good cash crop. The weevils
didnt bother them. Peanuts were, in fact, easier to raise. A whole new
way of farming came from that catastrophe. So they put up a memorial to the
pest.
That is a good little parable for what you are saying.
My sister struggles mightily with mental illness. I think about
how much we all savor life more when her medications are working. Every day is
a gift to her. And no matter what is going on in my life, I think of the
victory that every single day is for her. There is great dignity and heroism in
her struggle every day. We would have never chosen these terrible struggles,
but often, besides being terrible afflictions, they are also a light for
us.
Even science tells us now that chaos is the raw material for new
things, for creation. Theres a whole science of chaos theory that spells
out how this works. Nature is just not orderly in daily experience. She loves
order, but she gets there through messes. Chaos mixes everything up. There are
countless books out now about chaos in organizations, and look at how new ways
of living the religious life have arisen out of the chaos that came about when
the old ways are dying.
You cant just read about this; you have to experience it.
You have to find the pearl of great price on your own. The whole idea of
writing my book began for me when we had a season of death in my family. We had
one terrible emergency after another. Both of my parents died within a few
months of each other. And then, within a year of the anniversary of the death
of my dad, my sons got married, my daughter had my first grandchild and I got
engaged after being divorced for 20 years. I saw close-up how winter leads to
spring. This stuff doesnt just happen in nature. It is really true in
life. I think that I savor my joys much better now than before because we had
that long season of trouble.
That sounds suspiciously like the Beatitudes, doesnt
it?
We need each other. This is exactly what the Beatitudes are about.
What is good about being poor? Nothing! But when we are poor, when we are
hungry, kindness means so much to us. When we need food, then a little ham
tastes wonderful. My mother used to say hunger is the best sauce.
For example, a couple of weeks ago my daughter and I were in a
department store with her 3-year-old, whos at that age when he loves to
run away from you. We went up on the escalator and we lost him. We looked for
15 minutes and all we could think of was that somebody took him. We finally
found him with an older woman, who had found him wandering. She was telling him
a little story. Tears were just running down my face, when I exclaimed,
How could we ever thank you? Honey, she said,
just seeing the look on your face is all the thanks I need. Our
vulnerability that magnified that womans kindness is a treasure to
me.
What are some ways to move from chaos to creation?
One is remembering that God initiates. I dont think that we
were taught to think that way. We were taught that prayer is raising our minds
and hearts to God, as if we always do all the work. I have learned that it is
not all up to me, that God stuns me with generosity and creativity. Sometimes I
think of it as a wink or a high five. It happens all the time.
Once long ago I was visiting my husbands parents in the town
where he grew up. I got up early to go to Mass, trying not to wake the baby who
had been up five times in the night. I pulled up in front of the church in a
heavy winter fog and sat there completely lost, disoriented and bewildered, not
just from the fog but from the strains of motherhood. There were no lights on
in the church. Then out of the fog came walking a figure in a black raincoat.
He came right up to my car, opened the door and looked in. Then he said in a
rich brogue from County Kerry, Ah, little one, ya came for Mass and you
havent heard that I came and changed the time. Come back at 8:30, and
well be ready for ya.
From then on through many bouts with loss and bewilderment, God
seems to come to me and say, Ah, little one. I am reminded that God
is not a stone idol to be carried around, but an active presence. God is always
with us, finding us in the fog. Connecting with God is not always up to me.
Its the friend calling at just the right time, or the moonlight coming
through your window, or when you read a line in scripture that had never hit
you before but its just right for the predicament you happen to be in.
You know that energy did not come from you.
Another way to move from chaos to creation is in just connecting
with life. Some people are gardeners. For them, God opens a window all the
time. And for me these days it is certainly my little grandchildren. Little
George who is just 3 was staying with me the other day and he ate two bowls of
oatmeal one morning. I said, George, you are a great eater. And he
looked back at me and said, George is the man! A cheerful little
connection there. By surrounding ourselves with life, we open the door of our
chaos to the creation around us. Life pulls us out of our isolation. It
distracts us from dismal concerns. Look for the goodness. We learn to count on
and remember the goodness that comes to us every day, and that came to us in
the past. It doesnt come just to special people; it comes to
everybody.
My air conditioning needed servicing recently, and the service guy
came and noticed I was writing a book about messes. He ended up telling me his
story.
I was an orphan at 7 in the West Virginia mountains,
he said. My mother died when I was 5. My father died when I was 7. There
were nine of us. They sent the younger kids to an orphanage in Tennessee. We
thought it was the end of the world. Yet at that orphanage everyone had their
own bed. There was always enough to eat. There was a basketball court and a
baseball diamond. We had our own clothes. We were dressed better than most kids
in school who were poor in the Smoky Mountains. There was one little girl in my
homeroom class; her clothes were mostly patches. She grew up and she wrote a
song about them. You may have heard of her, Dolly Parton? Have you ever heard
her song about patches?
Ive made something of myself. My little appliance
repair business is doing fine. It was a terrible thing being an orphan but it
made me who I am.
These then are the blessings in the messes: Something takes you in
a direction that you would never have gone yourself, and it turns out for the
better. Or something occurs inside that makes us more compassionate and
tolerant. We become deeper, more capable of loving and more appreciative of
kindness. And we learn that we are not really alone. We have moments in the
presence of God, which I think are mostly mediated by the love of other people.
The times that people feel closest are the times when they go through some kind
of struggle together.
This is what I have learned, and this is what I try to share in my
book: Life is filled with struggle, and struggle is filled with love.
National Catholic Reporter, December 8,
2000
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