A crack in the happiness shield

A couple of days ago we were watching reruns of Better Off Ted, and when one of the characters complained to his boss, the boss responded by making slicing motions in the air, and noises, as if wielding a light saber. "Cheiou, Cheiou, Cheiou, Cheiou!" she said. "That's the sound of me deflecting your whiny bitching with my happiness shield."

I mention this because  I created this image yesterday evening and I don't even like it. I find it hopelessly saccharine, and can only assume that it's the unfortunate result of some part of me which is essentially throwing up a happiness shield -- because another part of me is DEFINITELY whining. And I'm not quite sure what to do about it.

It's all tangled up with that question I thought I'd answered -- and thought I would have answered -- years ago: what are you going to be when you grow up? Some piece of me definitely thinks I should have done more with my life, and while most of the time I can appreciate what I have managed to achieve, occasionally there are cracks in the happiness shield and disappointment creeps in.

When that happens, I'm never sure which voice I should be listening to -- after all, the "you're never good enough" voice (which of course has its origins in my childhood) has driven a lot of accomplishment over the years. But wouldn't you think the time would come when that voice could finally back off and say, "enough, already; good work -- now relax and enjoy what's left." There is this irritating sense that I haven't honored the gifts I was given, have squandered my time, have been lazy (that's the mom voice) and a maven, drifting from fun task to fun task without committing to anything (that's the dad voice.)

By now you're probably throwing up a happiness shield of your own to deflect all this whining; I certainly wouldn't blame you. But just so you know -- and maybe it's good to know -- the life of faith isn't all moonbeams and rainbows. There are times when it's a pretty heavy slog.

So I particularly appreciated these words that Anne Lamott posted on her Facebook page last week:

All that ever works is Love and generosity and savoring the eternal present, but you'd never know it from watching me go through the motions these days. I pray all the time, but without a deep sense of union or connection. It's like taking a survey by phone. I do it, but I mostly just want to be done. Still, you know what? I think it's okay. Some patches of time are going to be rich in communion with God, Goodness, Good Orderly Direction, even the Gift of Desperation. Other times? Not so much. As always, though, it is the right time to be exquisitely, crazily friendly to myself...

So what to do? Where do we even start?

I'm going to keep doing my sort-of-faking-it prayers; my phoning it in prayers. We take the action, and the insight will follow. The insight will be how crazy and isolated I feel when my electrical cord is not plugged into the vast supply of gorgeous, hilarious, heartbreakingly profound and sweet divine supply. This lackluster phase will pass. Then, the joyously plugged in phase will, too. Sigh.

Yup. Sigh.  That about says it.  But then I think of that lovely passage from Romans 8:26: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words."

Well, that's the hope, anyway...