Invitational

My stepdaughter asked me to go to a Barrage performance in a town fifty miles away. “We can go out to eat, and have girly night,” she said.

Sweet….but fifty miles away, for a show that didn’t start until 7:30 at night? Just what was Barrage? Would my snoring disturb the rest of the audience?

I thought about it. My daughter recently separated from her husband, and we haven’t made time to talk. She might need support, or at the least I could satisfy some motherly curiosity. I make farther trips for other people all the time…going with this neighbor to the doctor, picking that friend up at the airport. If she had said, “I want to go, and I can’t go alone,” my answer would have been yes. Girlfriend is my best role. What she said was, “Do you want to go?”

No. Yes? I decided to ask for a miracle...remembering with miracles everybody wins.

I thought of the disciple of the Swami Sri Yukteswar Giri who barely missed the train for a festival she wanted desperately to attend. At the station she cried out to the Swami, miles away at the festival, to help her with her dilemma. The train stopped, then rolled backwards to fetch her. When she arrived at the Swami’s compound, she thanked him for his help. He suggested in the future arriving at the station a few minutes earlier might be less dramatic.

Most people don’t require a miracle in order to decide whether to accept an evening out, but my spiritual study says there is no order of difficulty with miracles, so I figure there is no order of magnitude, either. I had conflicting interests. The sum of the parts really is less than the whole when you don't want all the parts, which meant to me since I didn't want it all, I didn't know what I did want. Why not make miracles the grounding principle for living my best life?

“I really want to see this troupe,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. She had appealed to The Girlfriend, and The Girlfriend doesn’t rely on miracles. She is putty for any person who has a need she can fix. “Let’s do it.” But it didn’t feel okay.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not real committed to this?” she said. “E-mail me when you’re sure.”

For two days I waited for word from the Higher Intelligence. The day of the performance I broke. I e-mailed her: “And where do you stand on Barrage? I've been so ambivalent on that one, I turned it over to the universe, but kept expecting the skies to part and the best answer for all to be broadcast.”

She wrote me back. She was tired and was heading out of town for the week-end. No hundred mile trip for her tonight, maybe we could eat out, maybe the Mexican place?

Yes, on eating out. No, on Mexican. I had my perfect answer, and I didn’t need a miracle for deciding where not to eat. The Mexican place was the only restaurant where my husband does eat, and was definitely off the girly night list.

My husband had been checking with me on our plans. He hates for me to be on the road after dark, so I figured he would be happy with the dinner in town. “Am I invited?” he asked. He rarely initiates a social occasion out. How could I say no? “Yes,” I said. But my heart wanted girly night. This was not my perfect answer. “Where are you eating?” he said. “Mexican,” I said. “Where else would we eat if you’re invited?” This was definitely an imperfect answer, but I am The Girlfriend. Pleasing everyone else has been my stock-in-trade. I know most people outgrow this trait. We all have our issues.

I thought about it. I have been working at telling the truth. I always thought I told the truth, mostly; maybe I hedged numbers when I related an incident, said somebody did something five times when they really did it four, but otherwise, I pretty much stuck to the facts. Only I have discovered The Girlfriend will tell the truth when she tells, but often she doesn’t tell. My practice kicked in. “About supper,” I said. “I don’t want Mexican. The cheese is always bad on Thursday.” That’s true. It is. We didn’t eat out on my birthday because we only eat Mexican out and my birthday was on a Thursday and the cheese….never mind. "We're going to the Crystal, if you want to come." I told the truth, but not the whole hog truth. I didn’t say I wanted girly night, but I needed to leave something for God to do.

Which isn’t quite true. I knew his answer when I asked. He’s a great husband and an excellent friend. I didn’t need to throw his gender in his face. I figured if he surprised me and said yes, that was the answer from God.

He said no. He is more used to making up his own mind than I am. “But ask her how Pistachio is doing.” He is curious, too, but he has his source for getting information. Guess who Pistachio is and who is the source.

At last I had my miracle. Girly night in town, no Mexican. My husband didn’t have to worry about us being on the road. We would eat Mexican tomorrow night, when the cheese was fresh. This felt right. Everybody wins.

But the real miracle is this: I am learning to speak my truth. With truth, no matter what the outcome, everybody wins. Maybe next time, I’ll tell it all. If I don’t know it all, I’ll know Who to ask. Camellia