The gifts we don't want

So a while ago, I saw a cartoon circulating my facebook feed:

I think, like most people, I chuckled a bit and kept scrolling. But the other day, as we celebrated both a baptism, an anniversary of ordination, and the feast of Epiphany at a single service, I sang the quintessential song for the season: We Three Kings.  I know, try to contain your shock.

I'm pretty sure I've sung this song every single Epiphany for my entire life. #CradleEpiscopalianProblems

Somehow, though, when I sang it this time, fully realizing that most of the congregation probably doesn't understand much or any of what I was singing due to the antiquated vernacular of the English, it caused me to focus even more on the lyrics than just sounding them off by rote.   And the song, mentioning each gift and its intended use in turn, leads up to final verses discussing the pain, suffering, death, and resurrection of what is currently just a little baby.  And those of us who know the story well are taught from a young age that the gifts given to the baby are not practical for a young child, like the above cartoon pokes fun at.  They are gifts for a King, and a king that is to be martyred, at that.  So what the heck did Mary and Joseph do with that stuff after those guys left?  I'm pretty sure you don't let a toddler, even a divine one, play in the myrrh.

So let's talk a bit more about gifts that nobody really wants.  No, not really ugly but well meant Christmas sweaters (and thanks, Grandmas, for never doing that to me).  I'm not aiming to talk about presents, but instead: gifts.

I got the first gift I really didn't want a few years ago, although it was around long before it was announced: my diagnoses with BiPolar II.  This lovely gift comes complete with rare and intermittent manic hours/days/at most a week, and lengthy, lovely, strenuous, potentially deadly bouts with long term depression.  And as a free gift with purchase: anxiety! So when I contemplated, discovered, and eventually committed to YASC, I knew that I would be taking a bigger risk than most to choose to be isolated, away from my current doctors, and thousands of miles from my support systems.  If things possibly go as bad as they can, I would be literally putting my life on the line for this.

And I signed on.

Because there was a gift in this.  The past years of treatment and therapy have greatly helped me to become more in touch with what I define to be my true self, my true emotions, and those occasions when it is critical that a portion of my brain realizes that a chemical imbalance is causing false perceptions, feelings, and intuitions.  Being able to process these things, I think, helps make me a stronger person for myself, and a more empathetic person for others.  And it was far from the last gift on this journey.

Then came the visa process for Brazil, and with it, the waiting.  But the good news was that the waiting, as a gift, brought two outcomes.  First, I had more time to prepare, because I had a lot of extra emergency details to account for, and also gave me time to focus even more on my physical health before traveling.  Second, as a prior post worked hard to emphasize, I got a first hand feel of the extremely privileged version of trying to be an immigrant.

This exposure to immigrant life has continued so far though this experience, due to many known and unknown plans for me.  For example, I knew that I'd need to learn Portuguese, and I knew it would be hard.  I did not know what it felt like to feel constantly afraid of being unable to ask for help when out without someone I knew to help me.  I did not fully realize the feeling of trying to navigate a world where I could feel alone even when surrounded by wonderful people whom I am certain care.  I never really considered how certain hobbies and affinities would become supremely time consuming due to availability of resources within a new cultural paradigm.  I've been asked a few times to cook for different events, which is good because I love to cook.  However, a dish that I make by the truckload with ease every holiday at home, that usually takes me 2 hours from shopping to finished dish to accomplish, took closer to 10 hours.  Because the ingredients available are different.  Because I couldn't read the labels even on the things that were the same, so I had to google translate almost everything.  Because (surprise surprise) the US has so many food items that can be bought partially or completely pre-made, and I'm guessing that Brazil is more the norm in that being a ridiculous rarity.  Because all the extra steps needed just to get to what is normally my starting place eat up time and energy.  Because this is what it's like to be a stranger in a new land.

So who could have guessed, years ago, that getting help to manage the symptoms of my BiPolar disorder would also help me to be able to partially detach and see my emotions from a different perspective?  Like Mary and the myrrh this was a gift that would not be evidently usable for a long time after given.  And now, with this gift of struggling to adapt and maybe eventually thrive as an immigrant, I must wait for the purpose of this gift to become evident to me.

Please don't get me wrong, the times are not terrible, and I am able to sing and laugh and celebrate with people who are becoming quite dear to me already.  And to prove it, here's some of the pictures from the holidays, which is a big reason I'm betting many of you came here today anyways.  But before we jump into that, if you've read this far, I'd be very interested to hear about your gifts.  So feel free to share in the comments below (on the web version), or as a comment on facebook, or more privately via the contact box on the web or via email.  Especially when it comes to mental health and personal struggles, I cannot be silent, because I never knew until it might have been too late who around me also shared that gift.  The more we talk, the more we help each other realize that sometimes people receive the same gift we did.  And each day, I choose to survive and use it for good.

During a Possada (Advent home group) with the Cathedral Community

During the Christmas Eve service, some got a bit restless during
the sermon, so they visited Dean Magda

Waiting patiently...ish

After the Christmas service was, of course, FOOD

So in this case: Brazil 1: USA 0

The national drink of Brazil, made by the
Bishop, uses lime, sugar, and cane liquor

Dessert (one of 5) to start Christmas day

I tried to learn more Portuguese by watching movies I already know in a language I don't.  I'd like to think of this as "Star Wars Episode IV: A New Challenge"

From the final happy hour of the year
with the Bishop and members of the
Cathedral community

New Years Day (technically)!

Here, they do dinner after the new year.
So you dig in to all this at around 12:15 am
desserts are after that.

The newly baptized (on Jan 3) Laura (left) and Estela (right)

Cousins, best friends, and now they share a re-birthday

She was unhappy that her grandpa was putting her through all this
wet and oily stuff. Been there myself, kid. I feel ya!