I am in Saaremaa, but that is not what I am going to write about today. Or perhaps I shall later today, but not now. The initial subject is my parents.
I have probably written about this previously. I am certain the stabs of insecurity and doubt which riddle me out of the blue time and time again each day are residual growing pains. The Christian life brings a boy up to feel guilty if he feels good. I’m struck by how American this actually is. And how the perception thereof is anything but American. Those pestilent people, for the most part, feel they are part of a country which grants them the greatest freedoms on earth. Yet, they are (again, for the most part) hobbled by the puritan upbringing which echoes in their minds throughout their lives. You are guilty until resolved of your sins. Touched by Jesus, to be sure. I’d probably not be who I am now had I not experienced it, but I regret more and more as this sagging body ages that I have wasted and still waste so many moments dealing with the guilt of being satisfied with life.
Christian and I chatted briefly yesterday about a phenomenon which haunts him. It is similar on an abstract level. He hoards things. He moves from place to place, wanting to be light and free, but simultaneously burdens himself with possessions. He claims it is a hangover from having a mother who pressed into his head from a very young age relentlessly that there are children starving (or who don’t have what we have, etc) in China. We both agree that we are disgusted at the brainwashing parents do to their children. I hope he recalls this and does better with his own, if he ever gets around to popping any out of his inflamed uterine cavity, that is. I’m pretty sure I’ll not pop any out, myself.
