Thursday, November 28, 2019

In Praise of Boring Consistency


Today’s menu for the family Thanksgiving feast is largely the same as it is each year. Granted, as an ambitious amateur chef, the temptation is to make everything a little more special, add one little surprise dish, or at least find some clever new twist on the tradition of giving thanks around the table. (I’m sure there’s an app for that.) But the point of gathering for Thanksgiving dinner is not to focus attention on the table setting, the turkey recipe (Yes, some people use a recipe.), or the topics of conversation—so long as we avoid the known and obvious points of controversy.

This year, I am seeking to present the usual in as usual a manner as possible. I want to gratify the desire for a familiar family ritual that allows those in attendance to enjoy some excess, to appreciate our abundance, and to remember the security of routine amidst lives often overwhelmed by seemingly random chance.

For the inspiration to attempt this boring consistency, I am indebted to one of the more delightfully demented patients I see regularly. Over the months, she has become more and more aware that she knows me from somewhere. This is especially remarkable because some days she barely knows herself. Sometimes she remembers bits of her history, specific places and vague events, or images that almost give her a grasp on some story…yet not. Still, more and more, whether scheduled to see her, or greeting her on my way to or from other patients in the same facility in which she is a resident, she knows that she knows me.

She doesn’t remember my name—not even from moment to moment in the same visit. She sometimes wonders where she knows me from, because she is sure she’s never been here before (“here” being a facility that has been her home for years). And she does, at times, ask why I am bothering her when all she wants to do is get back to her nap, whether she’d been sleeping or not when I arrived.

But the other day she knew it was me, whoever she thought I was, from across the common area in the facility. She recognized me as someone she knew, even with my back turned, as I was speaking to care staff. Granted, there’s not much I can do with my hair (what little remains). I used to experiment with the length of my beard. And varying my fashion sense to fit popular trends was actually a thing, once upon (too long) a time.

Yet whenever I see patients, I dress the same: button-down collared shirt, sweater vest, and a sport coat. I keep my beard trimmed in the same length and shape. And I try to greet the patient identically at each visit. The familiarity helps, even with patients who have full command of their mental faculties, but especially with those whose shifting perceptions can be disorienting on their best days.

Why is this so important? For the same reasons as I am seeking a boring consistency with Thanksgiving dinner today.

I want the focus to be on the people, the relationships, and the secure sameness we celebrate while living lives that sometimes shift and spiral in directions we cannot anticipate. Whether those lives seem a little random, or get increasingly chaotic, or deteriorate into the dauntingly disappointing, disorienting, and dysfunctional depths to which we all sometimes sink…my prayer for each of us today is that we find some sense of sameness, that we recognize the reality of regular routines, and that we celebrate the security we feel from the familiar, even if only in a fleeting detail or two.

Thankful for the consistent love of God, despite my frequently faltering faithfulness, I pray that my boring consistency helps make me more effective as…

Your servant for Jesus’ sake (II Corinthians 4:5),
Wm. Darius (Bill) Myers

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