Thursday, December 10, 2020

Did You Earn Some?

 

Gold Stars

“Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to give myself a gold star for being ordinary, and maybe one of these days I’ll give myself a gold star for being extraordinary—for persisting. And maybe one day I won’t need to have a star at all.”

Sue Bender (Plain and Simple: A Woman’s Journey to the Amish, Harper Collins, 1989)

          Did you earn gold stars when you were a kid? I seem to remember a teacher or two who used that approach to crowd control; if you got a certain number in a week, you got a prize of some sort. Nobody at home had time to give stars. Mother was never that organized—just so overwhelmed with the chores our household required that it never occurred to her to give anything beyond please and thank you. She cooked three meals a day, washed the dishes from at least two of them, did all our laundry, hung it on lines to dry and then ironed it. She took care of Missy, who was completely dependent, and on top of that, she made most of our clothes, canned or froze all the produce from the garden, and did the housework. I don’t believe she ever received a gold star for any of it.

          Speaking of stars, there will be a conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter on December 21st that will create, for the first time in 800 years, a very bright Solstice star. It is almost as if the cosmos is trying its best to cheer us up. Maybe we finally got the message that Christmas is not about spending money to give lavish gifts, but about light and life and joy. It took a pandemic to teach us that, but we finally got it! And we are getting a gold star for figuring it out!

          I like what Sue Bender wrote about giving gold stars for being ordinary. Her time among the Amish taught her that work is its own reward, and that if you get your ego tied up in whatever you are doing, you probably should not do it. I studied Amish quilts for a while, and even made a few. They are simple and beautiful, and if the quilt-maker gets competitive and ego-driven while making one, she (or he) turns one block upside down to add imperfection. Now that’s something I might earn a gold star for—extraordinary imperfection!

          My ninety-seven-year-old friend, Ethel, is in the hospital with Covid-19. As her daughter-in-law says, “she’s a tough old bird,” and may survive it. If anyone on earth should get a gold star, it’s Ethel. She served her country in WWII, married, and when her husband died young, she raised a family single handed while working as a Physical Therapist. Once retired, she traveled with the Audubon Society, made beautiful white oak baskets and decorative gourds, regularly sold at Art Festivals and galleries. Until a few years ago, she was backpacking in the wilderness areas of the deep South to count birds. She has lived a long, full life and will likely still teach a few lessons to the Doctors and Nurses taking care of her. She should get that gold star for being an extraordinary woman.

          Notice that Sue Bender said she would give herself that gold star. I wonder whether you have ever given yourself one. I have learned to thank myself for a good meal or making something I like. I say, “Good job, Jane!” and respond, “Thank you very much!” What would you give yourself a star for? Would it have to be “the best!” or could it be something ordinary that required persistence? Don’t wait for the world to reward you. Go ahead and give yourself a little pat on the back. And be sure to watch for that Solstice star—your reward for surviving this terrible year.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane

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