Episode 2.7: nothing to do with class

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

said the fox in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s “The Little Prince” (of which I have no fewer than four copies – in English, French, German, and Swiss German – on my bookshelf). And also, the priest in his sermon on Sunday. Which has got me thinking about “seeing with the heart.”

Many times I start writing these posts and the first thing that comes out on the page (well, screen) is all my insecurities, as I have specifically experienced them in the past week. Usually that somehow transitions into some other discussion, and I end up deleting the extended self-examination, because I’m pretty sure no one wants to read it? But fair warning: today I’m just giving in. Here's a glimpse into my own personal swamp of indecision.

It’s been a tough week. I’ve felt very lonely and desperate – and for no big dramatic reason, just the ongoing life stuff feeling overwhelming, combined perhaps with the disconnected feeling of having given up zombie-scrolling on Facebook in all of my spare time. A sampling of the questions that plague me: Why can’t I just settle down and get used to being a housewife? Or if I hate being a housewife so much, why don’t I get a real job? Why isn’t my German better? If German is such a problem, why don’t I give up and just speak English? Or is it not German itself, but actually my total inability to make small talk in any language at all? And is this some sort of fundamental handicap, in which case, should I give up and stop trying to "challenge myself" all the time? Or is it something that can be overcome, in which case, why am I not working harder to get better? Do I need to be braver? Or are my expectations too high? Do I need to be stricter with myself, or more generous? I feel stuck in David Foster Wallace’s “The Depressed Person” – totally focused on myself, painfully aware that I’m totally focused on myself, apparently unable to do anything different.

My life seems like such a disaster. I'm a mediocre mom. I have no career. I've been given every advantage in life, and have given precious little back to the world in return. But...there’s an alternative narrative, one that I hesitate to tell anyone because I am not sure whether I myself believe it, but here it is.

I’m home with my kids because I feel like that’s what I should be doing. I don’t subscribe to the theory that being a stay-at-home mom automatically comes with great benefits for the kids: having an angry and depressed mom-at-home is absolutely not automatically better than having a happy and fulfilled mom-who-works. But I do think that on balance, in our specific case, they are better off with me around.

Not getting a job helped me integrate. I thought that if I got a job, it would have to be in English, and if I ended up working in English I’d never learn German. Is this true? Who knows? It made more sense when "learning German" was a project that was going to take a year, not twenty... And I totally failed to take into account the fact that one cannot learn German if one is mostly home with one’s kids speaking English. But integration – being more than just an “expat” here – was always my goal. If I had a "real job" I'd have colleagues to talk to, but maybe wouldn't see much of my neighbors, or go to choir, or be taking the theology class. So I think that, in my own imperfect way, I've made progress there.

I believe that being present in a small life is more important than earning money and living a big life. Especially for someone in the extremely privileged position of not needing to earn money. This is a tough one. The pragmatic approach says I could do more good for the world by working at a well-paying job and giving all the money I earn to charity. And boy would I love to cook less and travel more. But I’ve come to believe that the world is the sum of our individual choices, and I want my individual choice to come out clearly on the side of service and low environmental impact.

I’m writing this blog because I think I have something to contribute. I don’t know what, honestly. I never thought of myself as a writer because I couldn't imagine that I had anything to say. But something tells me that writing is the thing I need to do this year. 

I wish I could say with any confidence that I prayed, and my prayers were answered, and this thing that seems like a disaster is really a period of transition, turning around to set off in a new direction. But I don't know. There's no clear voice speaking to me, it’s just these tugs on my heart – the ones that tell me to try harder in some areas, and let things slide in others. Do they lead down a path to wisdom and clearer heart-vision? Or am I digging myself ever deeper into a hole? I guess that’s where faith comes in, and I guess I must have some, because here I am?? But if you're the praying type...please pray for me.