A Lady At All Times

As a girl raised in the South, I was taught there are certain things a lady does not do.  My grandmother told me ladies do not to say “sweat.”  Ladies “perspire.”  They don’t say “shut-up.” That’s rude. Ladies don’t say “stink” or “nasty.” I never knew exactly why. Maybe, as my grandmother said, it would be “ordinary.”  It goes without saying Southern ladies do not cuss, especially in public and never in front of her parents.  That would be tacky. 

I was calm when my parents and sister arrived to grieve with me when my daughter Tara died. They seemed relieved to find me composed and standing upright. Perhaps they expected to discover me in a fetal position. We whispered soft words of consolation to each other, but within minutes, I lost my grip on self-control when a call came that stirred old bitterness and shattered my thin veneer of serenity. Tara's 30-year-absent biological father planned to come to her funeral. Maybe it was the excuse I needed to let go, or maybe there wasn't room within me for even one more drop of anger, but that's when the pressure of unreleased pain and uncried tears for Tara breached any effort to contain them, and I flung a great big, old-fashioned, full-fledged hissy fit. It was not a pretty sight. 

I wailed. I cussed. I hurled expletives unbecoming a lady. I made inappropriate inquiries about the present location of the shotgun, and offered suggestions for its  use. I spat profanities with incomprehensible, perplexing ferocity until exhaustion took over and rage was spent.  I didn't recognize then that my misplaced outbursts were the groans of my heart under a self-imposed burden of guilt for having failed to protect my child. Maybe every mother whose child dies believes she could have--should have done something to prevent it. 

My rant ended as abruptly as it began. I’m surprised those poor wide-eyed, white-faced observers didn’t get whiplash when it ceased. My mother, father, and sister stared, speechless.  Taking a deep breath, I gathered myself, sat down, crossed my legs properly at the ankles, and stated sweetly in a manner befitting a Southern lady, “Well now, I think that’s over.” 

You never know the depth of someone’s loyalty until they come to your rescue on the day when you are your very worst.  In a generous attempt to normalize my behavior and ease my embarrassment, my sister Carolyn stepped into the awkward silence  and sacrificed her own public image on my behalf. With an unparalleled show of solidarity, and ignoring the presence of others who had gathered, she revealed a secret known to few.  

"Daddy," she calmly announced, “You probably don’t know this, but all three of your daughters can cuss like that.”

Now that’s loyalty. 

Reflections:  

James 3:2   For we all stumble in many ways.

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.” ~Anthony Brandt

“Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.”~Mark Twain

“He can swear and still be a gentleman if he does it in a nice and benevolent and affectionate way”~Mark Twain

--Have I experienced unconditional love? What did it feel like?

--Is there someone who needs my compassion and understanding?

 --Do I need to give myself the compassion and understanding I would give others?

--Are there burdens I carry that want to be put down?

Practice: 

Sometimes we carry intense emotions because we are not ready to forget. Write about the burdens of your heart and mind. Don’t edit. Don’t worry about spelling or your choice of words.  Write until you have nothing left to say.  Put what you wrote in a safe, private place. Capturing our concerns and emotions in this way frees the mind from ruminating on thoughts that burden us. When we write about them, we can symbolically put them aside. They are there should we feel the need to retrieve them. In the meantime, the mind is relieved of the daily burden of having to remember. 

When the time is right (you will know), dispose of what you wrote in a holy, sacred and symbolic way.  Example: You may wish to bury the pages with prayers of thanksgiving for healing and renewal.  Or you may wish to shred or burn the pages, mix the remains with potting soil and prayers, and use to nurture growth and new life.