"Good intentions are at least, the seed of good actions;
and every one ought to sow them, and leave it to the soil and
the seasons whether He or any other gather the fruit."
William Templeton, Sr.
I had every intention today to start baking for a tea party I am hostessing at church next Sat. Instead I seem to be in a small state of panic and feel on the verge of a rather lengthy boohoo.
I am really not sure what's going on. I'm going to ramble a little and see if something becomes clear. If you have any insight, feel free to leave me a comment.
So a few weeks ago I had this great idea to have a tea party at church on the day before a big celebration for St. Mary. Since that Mary is the one I picked to honor through an annual baby shower held just after Christmas, one and two equaled, in my mind, 15 or "let's have a party." Sometimes I get these ideas, speak them out loud, attribute them to the Holy Spirit or voices sometimes considered mental illness. And truly, it is not the ideas that are bad. In fact, at the risk of tooting my own horn, I'm a damn good idea person.
The problem comes when I try to execute the idea. I've found over the years that this is all right if I'm planning some small gig at my home. It's when I jump in over my head, say at church, that I soon feel like I'm drowning in my own creativity.
Make a plan, my father used to tell me. I did. Problem is the plan is in my head. I can see how I want things, what to make, how things should look, etc. The trouble starts when I need to ask people to help. Because, even with a picture in my head, I don't know how things are going to turn out until I'm done. It doesn't help that I'm an Indian, not a chief. It doesn't help that I have control issues. It doesn't help that I can't stand conflict. And it doesn't help that delegating my ideas would be like Michelangelo telling someone who really, really wanted to help that he could have the itty bitty corner over in the next room. Not because he doesn't trust that painter, or appreciate the help, but because until the ceiling is complete he doesn't know how it's going to look, so how can he tell the person what he wants where?
Last week someone who is going to help decorate tables asked me what time. Time? I have to have a schedule? Then this morning, our priest, who has delicately stepped out of the female fray decided he wants to know what's going on. I get that, he's the priest, captain of his religious ship, he doesn't want any screw ups. So I get an email this morning with questions, ideas, directions (gentle nudges, but directions just the same) and I started freaking out. My stomach knotted up and the tears pooled just under the surface of my bottom lid so a dog barking, a stuck grocery cart or two many choices of honey could start them running down my cheeks.
I can't blame these feelings on grieving. I can't blame them on my father, though, in reality it could be his fault I feel this way because if he hadn't gone and died, then I'd be taking care of him, not offering to step out of my private box or worrying about details and money.
It might sound, that I am a glory seeker and don't want to share the party planning because I want everyone to say, "oh what a nice party, Merry gave." While that would be nice, all I really want is to set stuff out (without worrying if other people are doing it right, as if my way is the only right way), then leave and hope that good feedback will trickle back to me, that the ladies will have a nice time. I really don't like to attend my own parties. Parties in general make my stomach churn. I don't think I'm anti-social, but I appear that way don't I?
So now I've poured it all out there and my stomach is still upset. I don't feel any clearer on why I'm anxious. I don't know what kind of pep talk to give myself. I've thought it might be an inner child issue. I've promised Little ME I'll keep her safe and listen when she's unhappy. I'll stick by that except I don't know why she's unhappy. It could be a financial issue, money topics always make my stomach churn. I've spent more than my fare share trying to make my ideas a reality. That's what I do. I could have just written a check to the Guild of the Christ child and never mentioned a tea party to anyone. Is there a right or a wrong there? Probably not.
I know this is stupid. But I think I'm going to grab a box of Kleenex, hop into bed and turn on HGTV. Maybe after a nap I'll feel like experimenting with chocolate mousse filled cream puffs.
Today I'm grateful for a my creative brain. For everything there is a season. Some are idea people, others are detail oriented. I'm grateful for my mother's silver tea service that I'm going to dig out of the locked box in the closet and polish to a heavenly glow. And I'm grateful for this blog and faithful readers who come back even when I whine. You will come back won't you?
Wishing for you this day a warm cup of tea and a scone. Unless of course you live in the part of the US where the heat wave is making even the thought of hot tea atrocious. In that case, I wish for you a tall glass of iced tea with a sprig of mint and a shortbread cookie.