Four

Alternate Title: Unreliable.

I read somewhere that Meryl Streep said the most valuable thing her mother taught her was to be capable. Or maybe that was what she most hoped to teach her daughter. I don't really remember exactly - my memory is unreliable. I do remember thinking capable is pretty worthy as far as great gifts to give children, and daughters in particular. We talk a lot, SJ and I, about being "actors", people who believe that we can act in any given situation and make things happen. Being an actor is a version of being capable. They both mean being able, over the course of this life, to get shit done. A belief that what we (in the wider, global sense) do matters is kind of what makes the world better. The many who are "audience", who sit and watch; the many who do not know themselves to be capable and therefore count themselves out of doing when doing is needed - I think they might be why Trumps get elected.

Probably my mom and dad taught me to be capable. Certainly, in most situations, they have been actors and lived life in front my brother and sister and I in such a way that all three of us are actors too. It only goes wrong if we all 'act' at the same time in different directions...

But this week being an actor doesn't matter too much. That life lesson, while important and valuable, isn't the one saving me.

The thing my mom taught me that is making this week possible is that we're unreliable. And by we, this time I mean feelings.  Our feelings are unreliable - they aren't always telling The Truth. To be clear, they are almost always telling A Truth, just not The Truth.

This week, I'm pretty certain the world is ending. I have reprimanded a senior in the grocery store for being an asshole (she was, but I probably shouldn't have been); I only see ugly things - I spied 3 really awful looking engagement rings yesterday; all my friends are having a terrible time with important things, and the one who isn't is sure to soon; my children though lovely, seem troubled by things I can not nail down and thus can not fix; my body is a collection of minor grievances that could be killing me, but are probably just permanent low-grade irks.  I feel certain everything is terrible, everywhere. I feel low on love for all the people I'm supposed to love. I feel like I've made a series of terrible mistakes and that goodness is no longer available for me.

Somehow though, through a divine mercy, I am able to remember this other thing: my feelings are unreliable, and can not be trusted. They may be true in this moment, but they are not The Truth. The Truth is not bent by my feelings: The Truth is that goodness is always available for me and for all, and the discipline of looking for that goodness will trump feeling its absence. That's The Truth.

I'm glad I'm somewhat capable, but I'm profoundly grateful I know about The Truth.  That's my Mother's Day gratitude right there. Thanks Mom.