Shaming

Shame carries a considerable amount of weight with it. I live with shame. It feels like the drip of water on stone. Eventually the stone wears down under the constant drip of water. Like all people I desire to keep my shame hidden. I take great strides in making sure others never find out about it.

This world works very hard to claim that sexual desires are good and wholesome. They even temper it with the phrase that, "it is good in the proper context." (Read: when two people love each other very much.) They (Read: The world) goes out of their way to justify these actions (because heaven forbid they are deemed "intolerant").The world even goes so far as to say that it is alright if you gratify yourself as long as you are not affecting others. This is part of my shame.

This life teaches you that in order to be attractive, lovely, beautiful, and handsome you must have a certain image. This takes the form of body type, physical activity, appearance. Any deviation from this attracts ridicule and shames the person because they do not match this ideal. This is part of my shame.

The ability to be successful is core and central to "the good life." The accumulation of wealth, proper management of finances, the ability to have are all this are signs of success. The lack of these demonstrates stupidity, foolishness, and ineptitude. This is part of my shame.

Recently I have been struggling financially. I took out loans for my graduate school education to cover a fee. I thought I took out more than I did and when I received the extra back I assumed that the fee had been removed. It was not and I find myself required to pay back both the loan and the fee. How stupid am I?

I was introduced to a families shame the other day. I am still at a loss for how to respond to it. It frustrates me. It angers me. I want to fight against it, but I am one man. They are legion (my sense of humor meaning they outnumber me).

I am ashamed of those three items above. I cannot make an excuse for them. They are bad. They do not help me grow. I am worse off with them than I am without them. Each one has their fingers so entwined in me that I fear I will never be rid of them without external assistance. I "blush" (read: Jeremiah 3:3) because the thought of someone finding out that I do not actively keep them at bay causes me distress.

I watched this family have no shame for the way they live. I see the third paragraph of the poem "The Song for A Fifth Child" knitted into a plaque and praised. I see children selfishly demand. I see parents acquiesce. All this to the inverted, upside-down glory of this house and family.

I don't hate them. In fact it is the farthest thing from hate. I love this family so much that I want to see them happy, healthy, and safe; in an environment that fosters love, growth, and godliness. I am deeply saddened. I hurt for them and they don't even realize they are in pain. I feel like I'm watching the Monty Python "Black Knight" sketch only in real life with dire consequences. Their arm has fallen off and they call me a liar. Their legs have been lopped off they call it a scratch.

I have immediately and suddenly found myself grateful for my father and the life that he provided to my sister and I. For 5 years he was a single parent, managing a large house, being both mother and father. I have no idea how he managed. He somehow taught proper habits, instilled correct hygiene, and a gave us a healthy respect for others. I don't believe I took those traits for granted, but I certainly did not appreciate them as much as I did yesterday.