No, those aren't the times I find marriage the hardest--for me the hardest times are when I can't articulate what I'm feeling, and possibly that's because I'm semi scared that what I'm feeling is semi crazy--and sometimes it is; the times my heart and soul hurt and I can't explain it; I can't find the words. The times I feel hurt and don't totally understand why, so how can I explain it? Words are my refuge and when I can't find them, when no matter how hard I try to explain I can't, then I feel disconnected and isolated and alone, and then I'm terrified. And sometimes my mind goes to a dark place where I imagine the worst case scenario...
And so I put on my burberry pajamas....
Christmas 2006 we lived in England. One afternoon I rang Chris at work to tell him about the Christmas pajama debacle (it's a great story I may tell you one day--let's just leave it that there is an amazing customer service rep at Old Navy who took pity on my 8 and 9 year old boys--I had ordered snowmen pajamas--after much debate with Chris (you know the easy part of marriage) and several weeks later, this man emailed me a prepaid return address label for the already shipped precious pajamas and waived the fee for expedited shipping so my boys could have skull and crossbones with Santa hats instead--I still contend they would have been adorable in the former....). Anyway, I rang Chris to tell him I had it sorted and Christmas was saved (I can be dramatic) because the tradition of Christmas Eve pajamas would continue for the O'Doyles.
What I now know is that after we hung up Chris realized the Christmas Eve pajamas he had ordered for me had yet to arrive. He checked the order and found they had not shipped and Christmas was two weeks away. He called the company and while they said they were shipping that day and would probably get there in time, they didn't offer free expedited shipping (perhaps they were not as concerned about my mental health and the damage pajamas can do in the same way the Old Navy rep was for my boys.) As opposed to how I would have reacted, he didn't panic; he trusted the postal service...
Fast forward to Dec. 23--the pajamas were not there. At this point Chris was VERY worried about my mental health. He made up some excuse and out he went to the shops. (Keep in mind we lived in a small village--this was not a hop, skip and jump away) I had no idea where he was going or why--I really hope I wasn't ugly...hope does spring eternal--and I've blocked out that part---denial and selective memory are not always bad.....
The next morning after decorating the tree we all opened our pajamas--the boys were thrilled, can't remember what the girls got (depositing money into their therapy accounts now), Chris liked his, and I opened a beautifully wrapped box (Burberry offers free wrapping--at their prices they should) and found my pajamas.
Ever the pragmatist, my mother said, "Oh my! Those must have cost a fortune. Why did you buy those? Surely you could have found some cheaper." At this point my non defensive, patient, non judgmental husband replied, "Christmas Eve pajamas are a tradition in our family. I searched and searched and these were the only ones I could find I liked. Yes, they were expensive, but it doesn't matter. I wanted her to have them."
It's been almost 10 years, and I still own and wear those pajamas. They are tattered and torn; they are incredibly soft; I have to focus when putting them on because the collar is tearing out and I have been known to put my head through the wrong space, and when I wear them I remember. When I feel scared and so incredibly lonely, when I feel like my words can't reach Chris and his can't reach me, when my mind goes to scary dark places those pajamas remind me...they remind me of Chris's love for me; they remind me that he does understand me even when I can't articulate, and they remind me that even if what he understands is I can become semi-neurotic and overly emotional (definitely dramatic) that his love doesn't stop; it isn't contingent. When I wear those pajamas I am engulfed in well worn, tattered soft fabric that has sustained the test of time--and I am reminded that like those pajamas, marriages can become tattered and torn, but that doesn't mean they fall apart...I wore those pajamas last night.
As I think about those pajamas, how I received them, how long they've lasted and what they've come to mean to me, I think about incarnational living, the importance of ritual, and the Eucharist.
Incarnational living means to live in our bodies as the body of Christ. For me it means to stop separating the sacred and the secular and recognize that everything is holy. It means to live so that we find the holy using all of our senses, all of our bodies, all of ourselves. It means to live as Christ lived....loving and forgiving.
Christmas Eve pajamas are a ritual in our family--rituals give us connection and meaning. Rituals and our senses remind us of those things we forget in our messy messed up minds that sometimes go to dark and scary places. Rituals give us comfort and security. I've written about it before explaining (read defending) why I start my children's cars on cold mornings. (Read Here)
When I wear those pajamas, I don't just remember the sacrifice Chris made for me--going out the day before Christmas Eve (probably enduring my wrath that he went out the day before Christmas Eve instead of staying home and doing my bidding), spending an exorbitant amount of money that we didn't have to express his love, his loyalty and his commitment to our rituals (reminds me of John 12:3-5). No I don't just remember; I am re-membered just like what happens in the Eucharist.
To remember is about memory and knowledge; to re-member is about bodies and relationships. Remembering is about the memory of the good times and the bad--the events. Re-membering is about mending relationships--keeping the body living, connected and whole. When we come to the Eucharist we both remember how Jesus lived and how he died; we remember the resurrection and ascension and what it means for us today AND we re-member. We bring ourselves, our souls and bodies--we bring our brokenness and we enter into the Paschal mystery--we become part of the story--we are re-membered into the body of Christ. It is not just the elements--the bread and wine--that are the body of Christ. It is all of us gathered--gathered to be fortified and mended so that we move into the world strengthened to live as the Body of Christ.
In the Eucharist bread and wine--the ordinary become extraordinary; they become holy. They help us to remember and to re-member; and so can Burberry pajamas.
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